Return of Dr Maguire (Mills & Boon Medical) (3 page)

Christa jumped with surprise and looked round at him, relieved to see that he was now more modestly attired in jeans and a T-shirt under a corduroy jerkin. ‘Yes, please, with a splash of water.’

She watched him as he poured out the drink, his movements neat, unfussy. He handed her a tumbler and she twirled the amber liquid around in her glass, watching the light catch it, and then looked at him warily.

‘So. When are you going to decide on whether or not to follow your mother’s wishes?’

‘I’ve almost decided, although I do have some matters to discuss with the solicitor,’ he admitted. ‘If those matters can be resolved and I can find a way to pay for the repairs to the house, then I’m tempted to come back.’

‘That’s a big decision—to give up your life in Australia,’ commented Christa. ‘Did you like it there?’

‘Certainly I did...’ A slight change in expression flickered across his face. ‘But I’ve been there a good while and perhaps it’s time to come back to my roots.’ He looked across the rolling fields to the side of the house and the sea beyond, lacy with white breakers, and smiled. ‘Who wouldn’t want to live in the beautiful surroundings of Errin Bridge?’

‘And are you married—would your wife mind you moving away from Australia?’

Lachlan laughed. ‘No—I’ve no ties, I’m entirely free... And you? Are you someone’s wife or mother?’

Christa took a gulp of the whisky and it trailed fire down her throat. ‘Oh, no,’ she said airily. ‘I’m not into commitment—far too much to do with my life first.’

‘How very wise,’ he murmured.

Christa changed the subject abruptly—she certainly didn’t want to dwell on the past, especially her relationship with Colin Maitland. She drew out her list of bullet points from her bag and looked at Lachlan challengingly.

‘Now, can we get down to business? I have to say bluntly I’m not happy that you can just leap into the practice here as senior partner—I can’t believe that Isobel wouldn’t understand how I’d feel about it all.’

Lachlan put his hands up. ‘Hey! Not so fast! You have a habit of jumping to conclusions, don’t you? I’m certainly not proposing to leap into anything, but if I’m to have full responsibility for the buildings, I need to have at least an equal say.’

‘Fair enough...but, to be blunt, I’d like to know what experience you have. I know nothing about you.’

‘Of course!’ The austere face broke into a grin. ‘I’ve been with the Flying Doctor service in Australia for a few years, and I’m quite brilliant at small ops...a dab hand at dealing with every imaginable situation, from snake bites and childbirth to extracting teeth and acute dehydration...’

Christa couldn’t resist smiling at him, her cheeks dimpling. He certainly had all the Maguire charm of persuasion, and underneath that sometimes dour expression he seemed to have a sense of humour. But there were still questions as to why he’d leave his life in Australia so easily.

‘You have an interesting job there—why give it all up, even if your mother has left you Ardenleigh?’ she asked curiously.

He swirled the whisky round in his glass, the smile fading from his face. ‘Time to move on, I guess. I’d been thinking of leaving for some time—it was a great life, but it wasn’t Errin Bridge. I think I always hoped to come back here some day.’

But not while your mother was alive, thought Christa, puzzled as to why that should be. She tapped her fingers on the table thoughtfully. ‘We’d have to get on with each other...’

A raised eyebrow. ‘You’re bound to be able to get on with an easygoing guy like me!’

She looked at Lachlan sardonically. ‘You think? Suppose we don’t, and incredibly I find you’re impossible to work with? I’m certainly not going to be the one leaving the practice.’

‘Let’s give it six months—if the incredible happens and you find you can’t work with me, then I shall go!’ He took another swig of his drink. ‘I’ll give you the e-mail address of my boss near Sydney—I can guarantee he’ll give me a good reference.’

Christa nodded coolly. She wasn’t about to go overboard and welcome him with open arms yet. ‘I imagine it will be very different from the Australian Outback. You ought to know something about the practice here...’’

‘People still have the same illnesses, I suppose. What about local hospitals?’

‘St Luke’s, about eight miles away, is the nearest, but we have a small cottage hospital in the town, mostly for post-operative use when patients living in outlying districts have no one to look after them. And we have a minor injuries unit at the surgery.’

‘Sounds good. Anything else?’

‘You’d have to be good at walking up mountains. We’re the back-up team if things go wrong up there—and you’d be amazed how often that happens in the summer with the tourists.’

He raised an impressed eyebrow. ‘You’re a Jill of all trades, then. I remember going out to help before I went to medical school. I enjoyed it, so you can count me in.’

‘You sound as if you’ve made up your mind!’

‘I suppose I have,’ he said cautiously. ‘A germ of an idea came to me when I was resting upstairs about how I might raise some money to restore Ardenleigh House—and that makes me feel quite excited about the future here.’

‘So that’s a yes, is it?’

He nodded and smiled. ‘Probably. As I said, there are just one or two things I need to clarify, but I think they can be resolved.’

‘Then we’ll need to hammer out some sort of an agreement for the partnership...’ A moment’s misgiving as Christa flicked a glance at his self-assertive face—she could imagine he’d want his own way on quite a few matters, and she certainly wouldn’t give in easily! ‘When can you start? How much notice do you have to give?’

‘I’m due a few weeks’ holiday—I’ll use that in lieu of notice.’

‘What about your stuff—won’t you have to go back and pack?’

He shrugged. ‘I travel light so I’ve brought all I need. I’ve a friend who’ll arrange to have things shipped out if I need them.’

Christa bit her lip. Was she being foolish, leaping into work with someone she knew nothing about? Then she gave a mental shrug. The man was here and available and she was desperate for help, and in any case how could she stop him? She’d just have to hope he was efficient.

‘I’ll see you, then, in a week, with the proviso of a six months’ probationary period to see if it works, and that we’ll be equal partners. I’ll put it in writing.’ She looked at her watch and stood up. ‘I’ve got to fly and see my mother. I usually pop in on a Sunday evening.’

‘Your mother still lives in the area?’

‘Oh, yes. She has a little flat near me and she loves it there. She’s made a good life for herself since my father died.’

Christa got up and Lachlan went with her to the door. It was getting dark now and the courtyard light made deep shadows against the walls. Drops of rain had started to fall, and there was a soft, sweet smell of damp earth on the cool air. Autumn was on its way, and soon the soft purple heather and greens of the glens would be replaced by sparkling frost and snow on the hills.

He’d missed those definitive seasons, and although he’d had a ball in Australia, there had been times when a certain tune, the waft of scent of the sea, or a Scottish voice passing him on the street, would stir a longing in him to be back in Errin Bridge. He should have come back before, he thought sadly, and not allowed his stubborn nature to dictate his life.

Titan, standing beside Christa, suddenly stiffened, the hackles on his neck rising. Then he gave a low growl before breaking into a cacophony of barking.

‘What is it, old boy? Calm down...’

Titan took no notice and suddenly darted across the yard, still barking at full pitch.

‘There’s someone there,’ said Lachlan in a low voice, putting a restraining hand on Christa’s arm. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if this turns out to be one of your pesky thieves.’

CHAPTER TWO

T
HEY
STOOD
FOR
a moment on the doorstep, looking towards the barns, the outside light from the surgery casting a beam across the courtyard and the ladder that Lachlan had been using. It was raining heavily now and the sound of it drummed on the roof and made huge puddles across the yard.

Then above that sound there was a muffled crash as if something heavy had fallen. A scream came from one of the outbuildings, and a hooded youth ran out into the beam of light, the raindrops silver as they landed on his frightened face. He looked wildly around and then darted back into the building. Titan barked excitedly and rushed after him.

Christa drew in a sharp breath. ‘I know that boy—it’s Carl Burton. He’s a patient! What’s he doing in the barn?’

‘I’m not waiting to find out,’ growled Lachlan. ‘Is there a torch anywhere?’

He ran quickly across the yard and Christa flew to the surgery, scrabbling round in a drawer to find a torch, and instinct telling her to grab the emergency medical bag she kept locked in a cupboard by her desk. She was back in the barn inside two minutes.

The light in the outbuilding was dim, but in the torch’s beam they saw a boy lying on the floor, ominously still, his legs splayed at an awkward angle. His face was so pale that the large gash over his forehead looked as if it had been painted on. A piece of wood had fallen from the roof and was wedged above him at an angle. Carl Burton crouched by the victim’s side and he looked up at Christa and Lachlan with a mixture of fear and bravado on his face.

‘Bloody hell,’ muttered Lachlan, darting forward and pushing Carl out of the way. ‘Let me see what the damage is.’

Carl backed away from the victim. ‘Is he dead?’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘Has he been killed?’

Lachlan put his fingers on the boy’s neck to feel his carotid artery. He raised his eyes to Christa’s questioning look and nodded. ‘He’s still with us...better get some help, PDQ.’

‘It wasn’t my fault,’ Carl blurted out. ‘Greg saw that ladder. I told him not to climb on the roof, but he did. He was being stupid, standing on one foot and waving his arms about. Then he...he...dropped, like a stone...’ He stopped, putting his hands over his face.

‘That’s why he’s got to be treated as quickly as possible.’ Lachlan’s voice was brusque. ‘It’s lucky we were here.’

Christa pulled her mobile out of her pocket and flicked it open, punching out numbers. She walked over to the doorway as she spoke, glancing back at Lachlan bent over the victim’s body. Christa felt an almighty surge of thankfulness that she wasn’t alone in having to cope with things.

‘Ambulance and the police services, please—Dr Lennox here from the Ardenleigh Practice in Errin Bridge. I need the air ambulance for a serious leg, head and possible spinal injury to a youth who’s fallen from a roof just by the practice. My colleague and I will try and stabilise him, but he needs hospitalisation without delay. If you could inform St Luke’s to have an orthopaedic surgeon and anaesthetist on standby, please.’

‘We’ll have to do our best until they get here,’ observed Lachlan. He pulled back the upper lids of the boy’s eyes. ‘Pupils dilated,’ he murmured to himself, then examined the victim’s body, checking his head and other visible injuries. ‘He’s not bleeding too much from this head wound...’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ Carl looked up at Lachlan hopefully.

‘I’m afraid it’s not the same as just banging your head on a cupboard. Hitting your head at speed can give rise to arterial bleeding, and he’s had a tremendous crack to his forehead, besides his possible back and neck injuries and a broken leg.’

Christa bit her lip. Had the boy’s spine survived the impact of falling from the roof? Could they keep him alive until the paramedics arrived with their specialist equipment? She looked closely at the young boy’s face, where a bruise was developing around the gash on his forehead.

She drew in her breath. ‘Oh, God, I know this guy too...he’s Gregory Marsh, aged about sixteen.’ Her eyes met Lachlan’s. ‘Are you thinking acute subdural haematoma?’

He nodded and bent low over the boy, saying clearly, ‘Do you know where you are, Gregory?’

After a few seconds the boy whispered, ‘I’m in the barn, aren’t I?’

‘That’s right, Gregory, well done. Now, where does it hurt? Can you tell us?’

The boy’s eyes fluttered open, his breath rasping, his face contorted with pain. ‘My leg...bloody hell, it’s my leg,’ he muttered.

‘You can feel your leg, then?’ A measure of relief in Christa’s voice.

‘Of course I can feel my effing leg...’ he croaked. ‘It’s agony...’

‘Let’s look at this leg,’ said Lachlan briskly. ‘Can you cut his jeans?’

Christa used a pair of scissors from the bag to cut the leg of the jeans very gently from the distorted leg. They both looked down at the limb, which was gashed and swollen. Protruding through the gash was a white piece of bone.

Christa grimaced. ‘A compound fracture, not very nice...’

‘Poor blighter—it needs splinting.’

‘That’s OK. We’ve got some we use for the mountain rescue work. I’ll get them.’

‘Give me your bag of tricks and I’ll put some sterile dressings on these open wounds, and give him a ten-mil shot of morphine for the pain.’ Lachlan looked down reassuringly at Gregory and laid a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. It was a gesture not lost on Christa. Physical touch was an incredibly important and soothing thing, and reassurance could reduce the severity of shock—it was as important a medical tool as any conventional treatment.

‘Don’t worry, Gregory, you’re in good hands and we’ll soon have you in hospital.’

Christa went to get the collapsible splints and returned swiftly, snapping the splint joints into place and laying them out. The two doctors worked as gently as possible to immobilise the leg by strapping the limb to the splint, but Lachlan kept flicking a wary look at the beam above them, jammed across most of Gregory’s body. Christa heard him suck in his breath.

‘Bloody hell—can you hear that beam creaking?’ he muttered. ‘The whole damn thing could fall on top of us. It has to be moved.’

‘I don’t know how...’ began Christa.

He turned to Carl, watching them mutely, his face as white as a ghost’s. ‘I tell you what, Carl—you can help me try and push it out of the way.’