THE CONSULTANT’S RECOVERY
By
GILL SANDERSON
After Dr Jonathan Knight is blinded in a freak accident, rehabilitation worker Tania Richardson tries all she can to help him accustom to life without sight. As he starts to open himself up she learns more about the enigmatic doctor, and she finds herself becoming drawn to him. However, Tania has a few secrets of her own, ones she cannot tell Jonathan.
When an experimental operation is offered to him that could possibly restore his sight, she realises time is running out as she decides whether or not to admit the dark secrets she has kept hidden for some years – and whether they’ll ruin their relationship before it even starts.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Prologue
DR. JONATHAN KNIGHT had come back onto his ward a day early, and he wasn't a happy man when he arrived. He looked thoughtfully at the blue-overalled electrician in front of him. ‘We were assured all this work would be finished in three days,’ he said gently, ‘I gather you've been here for five.’
The man scrambled to his feet and tried unsuccessfully to hide the mug of tea he was clutching. 'I came across a few problems,’ he offered. ‘You can't always tell what you'll find when –’
Jonathan rode over his story. ‘I'm sure you can cope,’ he said. ‘Your firm said that you were an excellent workman. Now, I take it you will be finished by … shall we say the end of the day?’
His voice was soft, in no way threatening. But suddenly the electrician decided that, yes, it would be a good idea to finish by the end of the day. ‘I'll work through my dinner break,’ he mumbled.
Jonathan smiled. ‘No need for that. As I said, I'm sure you'll cope.’
He stood there watching as the workman gathered his tools and moved quickly out of the little anteroom where he had been so comfortable. Then Jonathan shrugged. If all his problems were so easy to solve as this! He walked down the corridor to the nurses' station.
He could hear the mutter of voices, the clatter of nurses' feet, a clang from the sluice. He could smell the all-pervasive hospital smell, not unpleasant but strangely comforting. For the past five days he had been at a conference held at a country house in Cambridgeshire. He had enjoyed the course – he had enjoyed meeting colleagues and had learned quite a lot. But now he was home and it was good to be back.
‘Jonathan … er, Dr. Knight … I didn't know you were back!’
Jonathan smiled down at Staff Nurse Amy Parkin, a small rounded lady aged about fifty.
‘Jonathan will be fine, as usual,’ he said. ‘I came back a little early and I dropped in to see Eleanor if she's around. Everything been all right, Amy?’
Amy sniffed. ‘Everything apart from the electrician.’ She glanced as the man trotted down the corridor towards them, carrying a stepladder over his shoulder. ‘He seems to have two speeds – dead slow and stop.’
‘I've had a word with him and we'll review the situation this evening. And who's this?’ Behind Amy was a nervous-looking girl in the dark uniform of a probationer nurse.
‘This is Jenny Lee,’ said Amy. ‘She'll be with us for a few weeks.’ Jonathan took Jenny's hand and shook it gently.
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Jenny. I hope you enjoy your stay with us. Any problems, any questions, ask Staff here, or me or any of the others. You learn by asking questions.’
‘Yes, Doctor, thank you, Doctor,’ Jenny managed.
She was obviously having difficulty coping with this courtesy. But Jonathan always made a point of knowing his nurses, of being aware of their characters, their careers, their hopes.
‘I gather you were in Orthopaedics before. You'll find that Infectious Diseases is different, but you'll learn.’
‘Jonathan! Why didn't you tell me you were here? We weren't expecting you till tomorrow.’
Jonathan turned to meet a smiling man with wild red hair and a crumpled shirt and tie. Only his stethoscope and white coat showed that he was a doctor. It was Joe Simms, his junior registrar and a very good friend.
‘Joe! I guess I just couldn't keep away.’ Jonathan grinned at his friend, then he frowned slightly. ‘In fact, I came in to have a quick word with Eleanor. You haven't seen her, have you?’
‘She's got a meeting with one of the Chief Executive's money men, but when she hears you're here she'll be up like a shot. Shall I phone down to say you're asking for her?’
‘I'd like that, but it's not important really. I just want – excuse me a minute, Joe.’
He had been vaguely aware of someone else in the corridor, hesitating then trying to slide past the little chatting group without attracting any attention.
Jonathan looked at the man‑ a youth really – and remembered him.
He was thin, pale-faced. He had studs in one eyebrow, his lip, and his nose. And he didn't look happy at being spotted. ‘Just … just going to see my mate,’ he muttered. Then, from somewhere he gained strength. ‘It's visiting time, and it's a free country. You can't stop me.’
Jonathan stared at the lad. ‘I spoke to you a week ago. I told you that you weren't welcome on my ward.’
‘Yes, well, Dane phoned me and said he wasn't feeling so good. I thought I'd come in and –’
‘You've brought him something? A little present for Dane from his mates outside? You'd heard that I'd be away till tomorrow?’
‘No! I haven't brought in nothing! Honestly, mister, I …’ It was obvious to everyone there that he was lying.
Jonathan strode across the corridor, stood close to the youth so that he was effectively pinned against the wall. ‘Which pocket is it in?’
‘Here, you can't threaten me. I'll go if you want but …’
Jonathan leaned against the corridor wall, one arm on each side of the youth's head. ‘Tell me which pocket or we stand here till Security come for you. And they'll send for the police, I promise. Which pocket?’ The last two words were very quiet – and yet the threat was obvious.
‘Inside pocket.’ The muffled words were barely audible.
Jonathan thrust his hand in the inside pocket and took out a small paper packet. He tore it open, sniffed the contents. ‘Because of stuff like this,’ he said, now speaking very slowly and clearly, ‘your friend will probably die. This drug might make him happier for a few minutes, but it would do no good for his long-term prospects. Now get out. If you come back, and especially if I catch you passing on this stuff, I'll have you arrested for dealing. Understand?’
The youth looked at him sullenly. Jonathan whispered, ‘I said, do you understand?’
‘Yes, mister.’
‘Have you got a card, Joe?’ Jonathan kept one hand on the youth's shoulder as he turned to speak to his junior registrar. Joe took a card from his briefcase and handed it to Jonathan, who gave it to the youth.
‘Keep this. It's the address of a charity that tries to help addicts like you. If you ask, they'll try to help you. It's entirely up to you. I don't want to see you here on my ward as a patient, but if you carry on as you're doing, then I suspect I will. Do you really want to finish like Dane? Now, off you go!’ The youth looked wide-eyed at the group, then scuttled off down the corridor.
Jonathan re-joined the group. ‘Good to have you back practising medicine in a discreet and gentle way,’ said Joe. ‘You know, that lad had rights – of a sort – which you interfered with.’
‘No drug dealer has rights on my ward,’ Jonathan said. ‘Let's hope he rea
lises that now.’
He took the packet he was holding into the sluice room and they heard him flush it away. Then he washed his hands.
When he re-joined the group, he said conversationally to Jenny, ‘This is an infectious diseases ward, Jenny. Unfortunately, various diseases – or illnesses – are the result of drug abuse; hepatitis, HIV and so on. Perhaps we shouldn't have these patients on this ward – combating drug addiction is a specialised branch of medicine itself. But we do get ill drug addicts. Many of them persist in trying to take drugs, in spite of what we can prescribe them – methadone usually. And I won't have it.’
‘Perhaps you’d like a cup of coffee now?’ Staff Nurse Parkin said. ‘Now that everyone knows that you're back.’
To her evident surprise Jenny was invited to walk round the ward with Amy, Joe and Jonathan. ‘Not a proper ward round,’ Jonathan explained. ‘I'd just like to remind myself of things.’
Eventually they went into a side ward holding just one person. As ever, when he saw someone on his ward suffering because of self-inflicted damage, Jonathan felt great pity. Why did people do things like this to themselves?
‘This is Dane Bland,’ Jonathan said gently to Jenny. ‘It looks like he's not feeling too well today.’
They looked at the emaciated figure lying in the bed. He tried to lift his head from the pillow, but it took too much effort. He was a young man – a boy even – perhaps aged nineteen, but the wasted face, and protruding jawbone and cheek bones made him look much older.
‘I'll be all right soon, Dr. Knight,’ Dane managed to mutter. ‘Just a bit off today.’
‘You're making some progress, but not as much as I'd like. Dane, you can't carry on taking drugs. I talked to your mate this morning, took his stash off him. He won't be in to see you again.’
‘Tony! But he said you –’
‘Apparently you asked to use the portable phone,’ Jonathan said. ‘You're supposed to use it to keep in touch with your family, not to order drugs.’
Dane was too exhausted to argue. ‘Whatever you say,’ he said. Jonathan looked at him a few moments longer and then they all silently left the room.
‘How d'you feel about patients who harm themselves, Jenny?’ he asked when they were some distance down the corridor.
She thought a moment. ‘I've just been in Orthopaedics,’ she said. ‘We got a lot of young lads who had crashed motorbikes. They break arms, legs, any bone you can mention. And then they find that just sitting, waiting for the bone to heal, is terrible. They're lads, they have to be up and moving. So they move and they often slow down the healing.’
‘And what can you do about it?’
‘Not a lot. Explain, wait and watch. But it gets very irritating when they put their progress back a month by sheer stupidity.’
‘You've got the right idea, Jenny.’ Jonathan thought that the young probationer would fit in on his ward.
As they walked back to the nurses' station Jonathan saw the flash of long blonde hair and a brightly coloured dress turning into the doctors' room. ‘You got through to Eleanor, then?’ he asked Joe.
‘She said she'd be right up. Said that you should have let her know that you were back.’
Jonathan saw that Joe was being deliberately noncommittal. ‘There's work to do on the ward,’ Joe went on. ‘I'll leave you two alone in the doctors' room for the next half hour. She can bring you up to date with what's been going on.’
Is it that obvious? Jonathan thought bleakly to himself. He wasn't looking forward to this conversation.
Amy also announced that she had plenty to do, that she would just send in Jenny with a pot of coffee. ‘Thanks,’ said Jonathan.
He pushed open the door to the doctors' room. It was a small room, windowless, with a notice board full of disregarded pieces of paper, a narrow bed in one corner where overnight staff might catch a couple of hours' sleep, desks, a set of easy chairs and coffee tables. Jonathan had had some happy moments in this room – and some not so happy. ‘Hello, Eleanor,’ he said flatly.
He stood passively as she ran to him, enveloped him in a hug and tried to kiss his lips. This he avoided by putting his arms round her, leaning over her shoulder.
Dr. Eleanor Page, Jonathan's specialist registrar, was a beauty. Everyone said so. Eleanor knew this, and accepted people's homage as her right. Perhaps because of this, Jonathan thought, she didn't like it when she didn't get her own way.
She was tall, with long blonde hair and a figure that was full without being too opulent. Her make-up was expert and immaculate – as always. She dressed with care. Even if it was an emergency there were no suddenly thrown-on garments for Eleanor.
‘Why didn't you tell me you were coming back early? I could have met you, we could have … there's all sorts of things we could have done.’
‘All sorts of things,’ he repeated. He tried gently to ease her away but Eleanor wasn't going to be moved.
‘I'm not letting go till you've kissed me properly.’ She pouted. ‘Show me that you're pleased to see me.’
‘Yes, you will let go. That new nurse is bringing us some coffee. And you know I'm always pleased to see my SR.’
Eleanor released him. She had a keen sense of propriety and felt that nurses and other ancillary staff shouldn't know about the intimate affairs of doctors.
‘Aren't you pleased to see me, Eleanor, not just the woman you work with?’ she asked. Again Jonathan sighed. He felt he didn't deserve this. He'd tried to be fair. ‘Sit down, Eleanor. There are things we have to talk about, things we have to settle.’
‘Of course there are. After that last board meeting, when you drove me home, I knew that –’
There was a timid tap on the door and in came Jenny, carrying a tray with coffee and biscuits.
Jonathan was glad of the interruption. He smiled at Jenny and thanked her, then took the tray and sat down with it. There was nothing Eleanor could do but sit down too. She watched, irritated, as Jonathan poured the coffee from the pot.
Now they were sitting in the easy chairs, facing each other across the coffee table, each with a cup in hand.
‘After I drove you home from the board meeting,’ he went on, ‘you knew what?’
‘I knew that things were the same between us as they'd been before. The way you kissed me, Jonathan. That wasn't the kiss of someone who didn't care.’
‘I kissed you because you're a very attractive woman, we'd had a pleasant evening and you obviously wanted to be kissed. If anything, you kissed me!’
‘Not a very gentlemanly thing to say,’ said Eleanor, ‘but I'll forgive you. Now, you got my letter saying I'd booked a weekend up in Kendal?’
Jonathan reached in his inside pocket and drew out a pink envelope. He passed it over. ‘I got your letter. Eleanor, this is the time for straight speaking. Five years ago we were lovers. It was good while it lasted, but it ended and I like to think we stayed friends, though we didn't see much of each other. Then I got the consultancy here. And a year ago you applied to be my specialist reg. I didn't think it a good idea, but you persuaded me it would be wrong of me to stand in the way of your career. So you got the job.’
‘I'm a good registrar,’ Eleanor said sullenly. ‘You've said I am.’
‘You're an excellent registrar. But our love affair is done, it's over. I will not go with you to Kendal. We're friends and nothing more.’
‘Jonathan!’ She crashed down her cup and stood, her blue eyes wide with incredulity. ‘You can't mean that! I remember the way you kissed me! That wasn't the kiss of a friend.’
‘It was. Eleanor, all there is between us now is friendship.’
Her eyes filled with tears but he didn't relent. He remembered from their past how easily Eleanor had been able to cry.
‘Can't we just wait a while?’ she whispered. ‘There's no need to decide anything now. Let's see how we feel in, say, another three or four –’
‘No, Eleanor! Whatever we had is dead! Now, I've had enough of this
conversation. I've got work to do and so have you.’
From long and bitter experience he knew this was the only way to deal with Eleanor when she was in this mood. She could cling like a limpet.
He stood and opened the door for her as she swept out. Then he followed her down the corridor. It had been bad – but it could have been worse.
They came to the swing door entrance to the ward together. Jonathan pulled open the door again, indicating that she should go first. Outside on the landing was the electrician, balanced on the top of his stepladder and holding a heavy electric drill.
The electrician glanced downwards as they came out. He lost his balance, the stepladder started to wobble. Then it crashed downwards – straight towards Eleanor.
Jonathan didn't have time to think. He leapt forward, his shoulder hitting the small of Eleanor's back, throwing her forward into an undignified heap.
And then there was blackness.
He was told afterwards what happened then. There was a shout and the crash of the stepladder bouncing off the floor. A moment's silence, and then the workman's anxious voice: ‘Hey, mate, are you all right?’ And then he went on, with increasing panic, ‘Doctor! Doctor!’
When Eleanor managed to roll over, to try to work out what had happened, Jonathan was lying face downwards, perfectly still, the stepladder across his back. A nervous electrician looked down at him. And the heavy drill lay across the back of Jonathan's head. Blood seeped steadily from under it.
A second later Joe and Amy rushed through the door. Joe threw the drill aside, then tried to stem the sudden rush of blood with a cloth. ‘I'll fetch a sterile pack,’ Amy said, ‘and I'll send for a trolley.’
When she returned, Joe was taking Jonathan's pulse and at the same time trying to work out exactly where the drill had landed.
‘We're going to need a hard collar as well, Staff,’ he muttered. ‘I think it missed his neck but it could have damaged the brain stem. I want a neurologist to see him as quickly as possible.’
‘There's Charles Forsythe on the ground floor. I know he does a round this morning. Shall I bleep him?’
The Consultant's Recovery Page 1
