Doctor Knows Best (13 page)

“Apart from her temper, she's all in one piece,” he said. Megan rewarded him with a glower that would have quenched the spirit of any lesser man, but Giles only laughed. “You've got a blob of snow on the top of your head,” he said infuriatingly as they started walking again.

It seemed to Megan that as much as she was determined to have as little to do with Giles as possible, he on the other hand seemed equally determined to be as friendly as possible. Was it because Joanna had twisted his arm and he had to stay? Whatever the reason, Megan felt it wasn't good enough for him to blow hot and cold whenever he felt like it. She knew where she stood, and she was determined she was going to stand well back. You are dangerous, Giles Elliott, she said under her breath. A girl could get badly burned by you. You already have, taunted the little nagging voice from the deep recess of her mind, but Megan firmly quashed any such notion. She was an independent woman, she had never been twisted around any man's finger yet, and she was in no mood to be manipulated now!

In spite of everything Megan could not help but enjoy their moonlight walk in the snow which finished up with a snowball fight, started by Joanna of course, outside the house. When they were all too exhausted to throw another snowball they eventually went indoors, tired but glowing with good health, for a traditional Christmas tea of salmon and turkey sandwiches, sausage rolls, mince pies and Christmas cake. This put Megan in the awkward situation of having to sit with Giles by the fire while the others were busy in the kitchen. Determinedly she buried her nose in a book and made no attempt at conversation, but she found it impossible to concentrate The printed words on the pages danced up and down before her eyes and Giles' face floated with maddening regularity across the pages, making her only too aware that he was sitting opposite her. He was watching her, she knew—she didn't have to look to know that, for an almost invisible thread linked them, making her aware of his every move.

It was Giles who eventually broke the uncomfortable silence. “I really
was
thinking of you,” he said, “when I suggested we leave tomorrow. I feel that perhaps I've hurt your feelings.”

“I can assure you that you haven't,” said Megan stiffly. Pride forbade her to admit that he had done any such thing. “I can't think whatever gave you such a silly idea.”

“I was thinking of that kiss on the beach,” he said quietly.

“Really?” said Megan in a nonchalant voice she could hardly believe was her own. “I would advise you not to give it another moment's thought. Since you made your position clear to me,
I
certainly haven't.” She snapped her book shut with an air of finality that signalled the conversation was at an end. “Excuse me,” she said, walking past him as he sat in her father's old armchair by the fireside, “I'm just going upstairs to freshen up before tea.”

She didn't pause or look in Giles' direction but just kept going in what she hoped was a graceful and dignified exit, although her legs felt stiff and stilted and anything but graceful. As she mounted the stairs her heart felt as cold as the snow outside. I'm like the snow maiden in the fairy story she thought sadly—my heart has been turned to ice.

After that, Giles never mentioned the kiss or leaving early again. It seemed that he had taken a leaf out of her book, for he was a bright and cheerful companion with a ready joke for everyone—everyone, that was, except Megan. She wondered whether their armed truce, because that was what it felt like, was as evident to everyone else as it was to her, but to her relief nobody seemed to notice anything strange in their behaviour.

When at last Christmas Day had drawn to a close and she was alone in her bed, Megan turned her face into her pillow and wept. Everything seemed so hopeless. Why, oh why did she have to fall in love with a man who couldn't return her love?

Chapter Eight

The thaw started on Boxing Day and Megan felt that it matched her mood perfectly. Everything was depressingly damp and dripping, the sky grey and overcast and bringing with it from the south-west a penetrating drizzle that soon turned the sparkling white of the countryside into a squelching mass of mud and slush.

“No drifts to worry about, Dad,” remarked Joanna, for whom the sun was still shining as she was with Richard.

“No,” replied Giles, “we should make good time back tomorrow if we leave early.”

Can't wait to get rid of me, thought Megan, tempted to voice her thoughts, but determinedly biting back the malicious little devil inside her egging her on.

It wasn't until the next day when they were just about to leave that Richard dropped his bombshell. At least, it was a bombshell as far as Megan was concerned.

He was kissing Joanna goodbye and shaking hands with Giles as they were about to pile into the car.

“Goodbye,” he said, “but not for long. I'm looking forward to meeting Fiona when I see you in London for the New Year. Joanna has told me quite a bit about her glamorous aunt.”

At the mention of Fiona, Megan thought Giles looked slightly uncomfortable—or was it her imagination? “It's a pity Megan can't come too,” said Joanna, “and you too, Mrs. Jones. Thank you again for having us for Christmas, it has been lovely.”

Mrs. Jones laughed. “London is not the place for me,” she said. “I prefer Devon. And thank you for coming, it's been a pleasure. I hope I see you again in the not too distant future.”

Megan ignored Joanna's remark about it being nice if she could go to London as well. Half of her would have liked to have gone, just to see what Giles' sister-in-law Fiona was like, but the other half wanted nothing to do with his other life—or his present life, come to that, she reminded herself.

Giles also chose to ignore Joanna's remark and just contented himself with thanking Megan's mother for her hospitality, kissing her warmly and shaking hands with Richard.

All the way back in the car Megan couldn't help thinking about the fact that Giles must have known all the time that Fiona was coming to London for the New Year, but he had never mentioned the fact. But then, she argued to herself reasonably, trying to be fair, why should he? He has no reason to tell you anything about his personal life; a kiss doesn't give you any rights, and anyway he said himself he shouldn't have kissed you like that. He's susceptible to attractive women, remember that. Megan sighed and leaned back in the seat. The only grain of comfort she could get out of the whole affair was that at least he thought of her as an attractive woman!

She thought of their journey down before Christmas. The physical closeness of his lean masculine body still did the same ridiculous things to her. She almost wished Joanna wasn't there with them, and then perhaps he would stop the car and draw her into his arms. She knew that if he did hold out his arms to her she would probably fall into them willingly, in spite of all the firm resolutions she had made about not getting involved! However, common sense told her that even if they were alone it was very unlikely that he would have made any move towards her. He regretted that impulsive kiss on the beach, he had admitted it to her. Turning slightly she studied his profile as he concentrated on driving through the heavy, lashing rain. His rugged masculinity was enough to turn any woman's head she decided, and unfortunately for her she was no exception.

When they finally drew up outside the nurses' home at the County General Megan didn't know whether she was glad or sorry. Just being near him gave her a sort of happiness, yet at the same time tore at her heartstrings in a manner that left her feeling confused and bewildered.

He helped her out with her luggage and loaded it into the lift for her. “You go and say goodbye to Joanna,” he said gruffly. “I'll take your things up to your room. Give me your key.”

Meekly Megan handed the key of her room to him as he commanded and turned back to the car to speak to Joanna. “Happy New Year, Joanna,” she said, poking her head through the open car window. “I hope I see you sometime in the future.”

Joanna impulsively flung her arms around Megan's neck, nearly throttling her. “Oh, I'd like to see you too, soon, soon, soon,” she said with the exuberance of youth. “You're good for Dad, you know, I've never seen him so happy, not for simply ages. Although he was a bit off on Boxing Day. I don't know why.”

Megan stared at her. She thought they had covered up very well and that no one had noticed things were strained between them on Boxing Day. “I thought he seemed the same all the time,” she said, not knowing how to answer.

“You don't know my father very well yet,” said Joanna. “I do, he likes you. I wish you'd get married.”

Megan laughed shortly. “I don't think your father would like to hear you say that,” she said, “and as for marrying me, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Joanna, but there is nothing further from his mind, or mine.”

Joanna drew back and looked at Megan suspiciously. “Don't you like him?” she asked.

Megan took the opportunity to withdraw her head from the window as soon as Joanna had let go of her stranglehold on her. “Of course I like your father,” she said, “but marriage is quite another thing.”

“Wouldn't you want a step-daughter like me? Is that it?” Joanna's big blue eyes filled with sudden tears.

“It has nothing to do with you,” Megan said firmly. Then she smiled and, reaching through the window, squeezed Joanna's hand. “And if I were to have a step-daughter, I'd choose one exactly like you. Now off you go to London! Have a lovely time with Aunt Fiona when she comes over, and leave your father to sort out his own romantic life.”

Joanna leaned back in her seat with a long, mournful face. “I shan't have a lovely time with my aunt,” she said. Then her face brightened. “But at least Richard will be there, so that will make things better.”

She waved to Megan, who made her way into the tower block by now feeling more confused than ever. Whatever was going on, it was quite evident that Joanna was definitely not looking forward to the visit of her aunt, and yet she had seemed happy enough to talk to her on the telephone on Christmas Day. She wondered whether Joanna objected to Giles and Fiona being together. Perhaps she was jealous. Megan shrugged the thoughts from her mind. Whatever it was she was unlikely to know, so why waste time thinking about it?

She made her way up in the lift. There was no sign of Giles so she supposed he had dumped her bags in her room and was descending in the other lift. However, when she arrived he was still there, standing in the middle of her floor surrounded by her luggage, his presence dominating the tiny hospital room. Megan halted, startled to find him still there. Somehow his presence, unnerving for her at the best of times, was even more so in the confined space of her home.

Her pulse started racing erratically as she stood with her hand nervously on the door handle. “Thank you for bringing up my bags,” she said, hoping the falter in her voice didn't notice. “I'll wish you a happy New Year now, as I shall be working on that festive occasion.” She tried to make a joke of it, but somehow her voice lacked brightness and it didn't sound in the least bit like a joke.

He didn't answer for a moment, just stood there silently in the middle of the room, looking at her with those all-seeing blue eyes of his. Suddenly Megan remembered Joanna's blue eyes, so similar to his but filled with tears a few moments before. “Joanna is looking forward to Richard joining you for the New Year,” she said. “I hope you all have a wonderful time.”

Giles suddenly looked grim and his face hardened. “I doubt it,” he said. “Joanna doesn't want to go to America.”

“What do you mean, go to America?” asked Megan. “I thought she lived with you? Why does she have to go to America?”

Giles sighed and suddenly Megan noticed the worry lines etched into his handsome face. Somehow they made him seem vulnerable, less arrogant and sure of himself. “There was a signed agreement which was that I should have Joanna until she reached the age of sixteen, which is in a few weeks' time, and then she is to go to the States to finish off her schooling until she is eighteen. Then she is free to choose wherever she wants to live. The trouble is, she doesn't want to go to America. She never did—and now she has met your brother,” he sighed again, “she wants to go even less.”

Spontaneously Megan put her hand on his arm. “I'm sorry if Richard has caused you extra worry,” she said. “They are young, they think they are in love, but it will soon wear off and Joanna will probably have a good time in America.” Even as she said it the words sounded false. She had seen for herself that Richard and Joanna had formed a deep attachment that wasn't going to be easily broken.

“You can't just switch off love,” said Giles brusquely. “I'm only hoping that Fiona will be understanding.”

“Well,” said Megan, vainly searching for the right thing to say, “she must have been in love herself, so she will know what it feels like for Joanna.”

“I doubt it,” returned Giles grimly. Then he looked down at Megan's hand, which was still resting on his arm. Gently he removed it and raised her fingers to his warm lips. “Happy New Year,” he said. “I'll be thinking of you working here.”

He made no attempt to kiss her on the mouth, just closed the door quietly behind him and left. Megan stood still for a moment behind the closed door, then leaned against it and gently rubbed her hand against her cheek. For a split second when he had said, “You can't switch off love,” she had thought he had been about to say something more, because the colour of his eyes had darkened as he had looked at her and she had felt sure he had wanted to kiss her. But he had not. His thoughts were preoccupied with his daughter and his sister-in-law, Fiona. Poor Joanna, thought Megan suddenly, her future had been decided for her years ago and now she was due to be shuttled off to the other side of the world with no say in the matter—although Megan guessed she would put up a pretty spirited fight to get what she wanted. She wondered whether Giles would support his daughter's wishes or whether he would feel bound by the promises he made so many years ago. No doubt Richard would tell her when she saw him next…

No use wasting time worrying about it now she thought practically. There was plenty to do before she went on duty the next morning.

In fact, once she was back in Casualty it seemed as if she had never been away and apart from the now rather tired-looking decorations that were still hanging up, it could easily have been that Christmas had never happened at all.

“Have a nice Christmas, dear?” asked Thelma.

“Yes thanks,” said Megan, wondering what Thelma would say if she knew Giles Elliott had spent it with her. “Did you?”

“Not too bad, dear,” said Thelma comfortably. “I was off on Christmas Day, then on duty for Boxing Day. Not that I minded, it meant my old man had to do the cooking and washing-up on Boxing Day, which makes a change. He doesn't do a thing unless he can't help it.”

Megan nodded sympathetically. She had seen Thelma's husband, a large man who looked a bit of a bully, and she knew from hospital gossip that he was. Apparently he believed that a woman's place was behind the sink, but he was not averse to spending Thelma's hard-earned wages, just so long as she did all the housework as well as working at the hospital. Megan often wondered why women put up with such a miserable life—but then, unless they had a marvellous job with a fantastic salary it was difficult for them to escape. At least, that was what everyone said, but Megan felt sure that she would have escaped by hook or by crook—and of course, she told herself, she would never have married such an unreasonable man in the first place. She would fall in love with a man who adored her! Some hope, her inner voice piped up.

Time for gossip or reflection was, however, short-lived, for the first admission of that morning was a child with severe upper airway obstruction. The child was three years old and had swallowed a peanut, so his parents said. As soon as she saw him Megan pressed the cardiac arrest button without waiting for the admitting senior house officer's opinion. The little boy was cyanosed and there was obviously a tracheal occlusion.

She was glad to see that Johnny Cox was the anaesthetist on the emergency team that day. He was so experienced that very few airway problems presented insurmountable difficulties for him.

“We need a tracheostomy to be performed here,” said Johnny under his breath, “but I don't think we can afford to wait that long.”

“Crycothyrotomy?” asked Megan quickly.

“Yes,” said Johnny tersely, “we need to buy some time and it's the only way to do it.”

Quickly the small boy was wheeled through into the small operating theatre at the side of Casualty. Megan sent Thelma to try to reassure the parents and she stayed with Johnny and the senior house officer while Johnny performed the dangerous and delicate procedure. There wasn't much time, for the child had become severely cyanosed and it was only a matter of moments before he would arrest. Megan watched the ECG monitor anxiously as they started.

With the patient supine on the table Johnny asked Megan to hold the child's head extended so that he could identify the cricothyroid membrane by palpation. This he did quickly, and then swiftly slid two large bore cannulae percutaneously through the cricothyroid membrane into the trachea.

“Oxygen,” he said briefly.

The senior house officer quickly passed the suitable oxygen mask to deliver a high concentration of inspired oxygen over the cannulae.

Johnny stood up, beads of perspiration gathering on his brow. “God, that was a close shave,” he said. “Let's get this kid up to ENT theatre now—fix it up with Theatre Sister, will you?” he nodded at Megan. “No arguments, tell her I'm on my way up with a desperately sick kid and we need the emergency theatre open and staffed and an ENT surgeon standing ready.”