She blinked. Will? Being kind to her? She must look awful. Or perhaps Will was turning into a better doctor. Perhaps she should take his advice and go home and get some sleep.
There wasn’t too much comfort at home either. Both Sue and Jane seemed to be having difficulty with their lovers so there was no one she could turn to for advice. Not that there was any advice that could do any good. She just had to accept the situation and wait for the pain to pass.
From a drawer she took her old, heavy-rimmed glasses and slipped them on again. She hadn’t worn them for so long. Then she took them off and put them back in the drawer. That time had gone. Christopher had taught her something.
Time dragged on. Christmas was approaching and she volunteered for all the unpopular duties. Let those with a family – or a lover – have a good time. She’d been to see her parents, and they’d taken charge of their own lives again. The sale of the business was proceeding, and at Megan’s suggestion they were going on a Christmas cruise.
‘What will you do, Megan?’ her father asked. ‘We feel guilty about leaving you.’
‘I’ll have a great time. There’s always plenty going on at the hospital. It’ll be non-stop parties.’ She was happy to see that they were happy.
It had been a fortnight since she’d told Christopher to leave her alone. Then at eight o’clock one night he phoned her. ‘Come to St Leonard’s Hospital,’ he told her. ‘Charles has just asked for you. He’s come out of his coma but he’s very weak.’ His voice softened. ‘I’m sorry about this, Megan. You know how it is when this happens. He won’t last the night.’
She’d read up on Charles’s condition so she did know. It wasn’t unknown for a patient to make an apparently miraculous recovery – and then quickly die. ‘I’m on my way,’ she said. She was touched by Christopher’s concern.
Christopher was sitting outside the ward. He said nothing but pointed for her to enter, which she did. There were the banks of apparatus, there was Jack Bentley looking through his notes, and there was Charles. Jack nodded for her to go and sit next to Charles.
She looked at the wasted face on the pillow. He was a man in his sixties but he’d always had an alert face. During the past few weeks she’d seen him in a coma and he hadn’t been the man she’d known. She remembered his impish sense of humour, his readiness to help anyone, his contempt for rules that didn’t benefit patients. Now some of that life had returned. She took his hand, leaned over, and said, ‘Hello, Charles, it’s Megan.’
Slowly his eyes opened, but his voice was so soft that she had to bend low over him to hear. She felt the tiniest of squeezes. ‘I wanted to say … goodbye, Megan. Not long now. I gather I’ve been a bit of trouble to you … Sorry … Be a good doctor in time.’
His eyes closed and the grip on her hand relaxed. His breathing became so faint that it was almost undetectable, then it seemed to rally and he took several deep breaths. Cheyne-Stokes breathing. Not long now. And a minute or so later the breathing stopped entirely.
Jack came over and gave her a brief hug. ‘I’ll send for a nurse,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing more you can do.’
She walked outside to find Christopher. He could tell by her face what had happened. ‘He was a good doctor,’ he said. ‘I looked up some of his earlier work, and it was brilliant. There are many men and women alive today because of his skill. He just couldn’t be bothered with money.’
From a briefcase between his legs he took a sheaf of papers. ‘Before Charles died he made a statement, accepting responsibility for your signatures on those documents. It was a properly certified deathbed oath, duly witnessed, and will stand up in any court. He also signed a cheque, made out to the hospital, to cover any monies that he might owe. And he made a will. Megan, you’re in the clear.’
She had difficulty coming to grips with this. ‘How did he know about the trouble with the signatures?’ she asked. ‘It was kept from him when he first had the stroke.’
‘I told him,’ Christopher said bluntly. ‘It was the last chance of getting you out of trouble.’
‘You badgered a dying man! How could you? Shouldn’t a doctor let a dying man pass in peace?’
‘A man needs to put things right before he dies in peace. I badgered a dying man, and I hope someone would do the same to me in similar circumstances. There were things he had to put right and, Megan, he was grateful!’
‘Just so long as you don’t expect me to be.’
As ever, work was calming. Christopher was away on a course in Manchester, and it was good that Megan didn’t have to see him so regularly. The pain would have been too much. Then she heard that he was also working with Maddy Brent on a feature about paying for the Health Service. Well, why not? He was no longer any concern of hers. But it didn’t make her happy.
Malcolm Mallory called her in and told her that she’d been completely vindicated. Charles’s dying statement had put everything right. Not only had Charles repaid the money that technically he’d kept, he’d also left the hospital a very substantial sum in his will.
‘He had no relations, you know,’ the CEO said. ‘The auditors are completely satisfied, and Mr Moreton will put out a press release. However, I suspect it won’t attract half the publicity that the story of a possible crime did.’
‘So the man accused of theft has now left a large donation to the hospital,’ Megan said. ‘Don’t you think it’s a pity that he couldn’t have been taken on trust before, when he was ill?’
The CEO winced. ‘You’re entitled to that but, Dr Taylor, as you progress you’ll find that money concerns become as important as medical ones. Sorry, but that’s a fact. I can only say that we’ll introduce new rules to try and ensure that this doesn’t happen again.’
She was surprised but also very pleased to receive a phone call from Albert Furby, the auditor who’d interviewed her. ‘I’m delighted things have worked out well for you,’ he said. ‘You know, I always thought you were innocent. I can guess what you think about men like me – but we do have our uses. We’ve saved hospitals quite a lot of money, and so helped patients.’
‘I thought you were very fair to me, Mr Furby,’ she told him, ‘and I appreciated your concern.’
The next thing really surprised her – a letter from Charles’s solicitor. Charles had left her five thousand pounds. At first she thought she’d give it to the hospital, then she decided to give it to her parents. They could have another cruise.
Everyone seemed to be trying to make her happy. But she was still miserable.
Chapter Ten
‘Mind if I join you?
Megan looked up, and there was Maddy Brent, dressed in the most beautiful dark leather trouser suit with a vivid green silk shirt. Quite frankly, she did mind, but she couldn’t say so. She was aware of the scruffy state of her own white coat, her disreputable hair, the respectable but hardly alluring blouse and trousers.
‘All right,’ she said gracelessly, and pulled her tray off the table to set it down by her chair. Maddy sat and put down two coffees and a sandwich.
‘Who’s the other coffee for?’ Megan asked suspiciously.
‘You, if you want it. Or need it.’
‘Thank you, but I’m due back on the ward soon.’
They were in the canteen. It was mid-afternoon and she hadn’t been able to get away before now. Mat. Two had been rushed because there had been a case of puerperal pyrexia – a temperature of over 38 degrees – probably as a result of a genital infection. Megan had sent swabs for culture. She had coped, but it had taken time.
‘I wanted to see you,’ Maddy said, apparently unmoved by her cool reception. ‘I think you know that I’m going to do a feature on medical training, and I think you’d be an ideal subject. We could pay a little bit and I’m sure you’d be doing some good.’
‘I’m very busy.’ Megan said shortly. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Pity, Christopher thought you’d be good at it. Anyway, you don’t have to make your mind up yet.’<
br />
Megan tore at her own sandwich, and was amazed when she heard Maddy laugh and say, ‘I shouldn’t tease you. Look, I’m going to get married. D’you like my ring?’
This was too much! But she had to keep calm. Megan looked at the extended hand and saw a vast diamond cluster ring. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said flatly. ‘I hope you’ll both be very happy.’
‘I’m sure we will be. It’ll be the second time for both of us, but Thomas and I think we can make a go of it.’
‘Thomas? What …? Who …?’
‘I’m marrying Thomas Dell – he’s my producer. I’ve known him quite a while, and with any luck we’ll be very happy together.’
‘But what about Christopher?’ It just burst from her.
‘I’ve been married to him once. I don’t want to get married to him again. I still love him dearly and have done since I was seven. But he needs a different sort of woman to me.’
Megan was utterly bewildered. What was Maddy saying?
Maddy went on, ‘Look Megan, I’ve only just put it together. You saw me kiss Christopher in the rain. Thomas had just asked me to marry him. I phoned and told Christopher. He still loves me in an odd fashion so he was pleased for me. That was the only reason for the kiss. Honestly. I took him out to meet Thomas and we had a drink together.’
Megan’s head was whirling. ‘But I saw… I thought …’
Maddy’s voice was sympathetic. ‘You thought that we were still in love, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘And I never asked him. How could I judge him so easily?’
‘I’ve been working with him on something to do with medical funding over the past two weeks,’ Maddy said, ‘and he’s been a real pig to be with. Now I can guess why. You told him you wanted nothing to do with him.’
There was a long, appalled pause. Maddy pushed over the spare coffee. ‘You look as if you need this,’ she said.
Megan drank, but whether it was tea, coffee, or soup she couldn’t tell. ‘What am I going to do?’ she asked, addressing the question as much to herself as to Maddy.
Maddy answered, ‘You’re going to have to tell him. One thing is certain – he won’t ever approach you. He’s too proud. Or, to be exact, pig-headed. But I’m sure he loves you.’
‘I don’t think I can approach him. I wouldn’t know how.’
‘Well, find out! He’s worth fighting for, isn’t he? Look, it’s not my usual brief, but if you want I’ll talk to him first. Tell him what happened and why.’
It was certainly a tempting offer, but she had to refuse it. ‘Thanks, Maddy, but no. It’s something I’ve got to do for myself. If I can’t do that then I don’t deserve him.’
‘That’s the Megan I know. Look, like I said, I still have a very soft spot for Christopher. And there’s no one I’d rather see him with than you. So get in there and fight. Now …’ Maddy rummaged in her bag and produced a tiny notebook and a gold pencil. ‘I’ve done my agony-aunt bit. I still want you to come and talk about medical training. Can you come over – say, in a month – and spend an afternoon with me? We’ll send a car for you.’
‘All right,’ Megan said feebly. She took out a list of her future duties from her own handbag and pushed if over. ‘Pick an afternoon that I’m free.’
Maddy did so. ‘Right, now I’m off,’ she said briskly. ‘Good luck with Christopher, Megan. Remember, he loves you.’ And she was gone.
Megan sat alone in the deserted canteen. The full horror of what she’d done was still growing on her. Christopher might forgive her – but would he ever forget what she’d said?
She knew that the person she’d been only a few weeks ago wouldn’t have been able to approach Christopher to say she was sorry and explain what had happened. Could she do it? Could she fight to get him back? What if he’d decided that his affair with her was unimportant, that he was well rid of her? Could she stand a deserved rejection?
He was coming back from Manchester tomorrow. She could – Her bleeper went. She was needed back on the ward.
Megan had a sleepless night, worrying what to do. How was she to approach him – be humble, be proud, be honest? Should she write him a note first, or perhaps telephone him? If she was rejected, laughed at even, could she carry on working with him? She would have to see. When finally her eyes closed she’d worked out some kind of plan.
The next morning she was off duty, so she did some shopping before going into hospital to work an afternoon and evening shift. She was also due to be on call that night so she’d sleep on the ward.
She dumped her bags in the doctors’ room, then she went to talk to Will for handover. Nothing on the wards seemed too exciting, but that could always change. And there was always the never-ending routine work to be done.
She knew Christopher had come back from Manchester and that he was somewhere in the building, on call. This fact lay at the back of her mind, a constant irritation. Was she going to call him? What excuse could she give? Then, at seven, a new patient was admitted.
Carole White was a primigravida, twenty-eight weeks pregnant, and haemorrhaging. So far it was only mild, but very properly Carole had come to hospital. Her husband came with her and both were distressed. They seemed a happy couple, really looking forward to their first baby, but Megan could detect that there was something not quite right between them. She first reassured them, then sent the husband off to drink coffee so she could write down all of Carole’s details. Carole and conduct an initial examination. Then she found out what was wrong.
‘Have we hurt the baby, Doctor?’ Carole asked in an anguished voice. ‘We were careful, and the midwife said it should be all right. But if we’ve hurt the baby … and Ken was so careful.’
‘You were making love?’ Megan asked gently, and Carole nodded with a fresh flood of tears.
‘I don’t think you need to worry,’ Megan reassured her. ‘It’s usually quite all right at this stage of pregnancy and I don’t think you’ve done any harm.’
‘Ken feels dreadful! He wants this baby and he thinks it’s his fault!’
‘Well, I’ll have a word with him later and try to persuade him not to feel guilty.’
Megan was almost sure that Carole was suffering from type one placenta praevia. She remembered Renata Solveig. As with Renata, a normal delivery should ultimately be possible. Probably, all that Carole needed was bed rest. But she had to be sure so she’d ring the consultant on call. Christopher.
His voice sounded tired when he answered but, as ever, he quickly became alert when she outlined her problem. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re right, and there’s no need to worry, but I’ll come down and have a look. It’ll only take five minutes.’ There was a pause and then he went on, ‘I’ve not seen you for a fortnight, Megan. Parents all right? And how have you been?’
‘My parents are fine – thank you for asking. And I’ve had … well, if I can, I’ll tell you later.’
He came down, confirmed her diagnosis of Carole and suggested that a night’s sleep might be as good as anything. Then he took time to have a word with Ken, and reassured him that he hadn’t in any way acted wrongly.
‘I doubt whether there’ll be any more trouble with her,’ he said to Megan as they stood outside the ward, ‘but don’t hesitate to beep me if you’re not sure.’
Megan kept her head bowed and wouldn’t look at him. ‘I’m sleeping on the ward tonight,’ she said. ‘I’m on call, too. I’ll be in the night room. I’ve brought some supper. Would you like to come down and share it with me – say at about a quarter past eleven?’
He didn’t answer at first, then he said, ‘We could have one glass of wine each. I’ll bring half a bottle down.’ His voice was carefully neutral.
‘I’ll look forward to that,’ she said, and walked back into the ward.
It was only a small room, with a bed and a small table and chair. She brought another chair from the doctors’ room and on the table she arranged the tiny feast she’d bought that morning in a delicate
ssen. There were three types of roll, which she’d warmed before buttering them. There was smoked salmon, thin ham, pastrami, a little pot of caviar. She’d also bought three cartons of salad, and chocolate biscuits to finish with. It looked good.
Then she went to shower and put on a blue silk dressing-gown she’d bought that morning. It clung to her and flattered her.
Christopher knocked gently on the door and came in, carrying two glasses and a half-bottle of wine. He was wearing a white shirt and dark trousers, but no tie. Megan was sitting on the bed, her arms gripped around her legs, huddled into the corner.
He looked at what was laid out in amazement. ‘I’ve never had supper like this before,’ he said.
‘It’s an apology. Well, part of it. Sit down, there’s something I’ve got to tell you.’
She could tell he was at a loss. She’d thought that perhaps Maddy might have mentioned something to him, but now she was sure that hadn’t happened. Well, good, this was something she had to do on her own. He took the chair opposite her.
Licking her suddenly dry lips, she said, ‘A fortnight ago I saw you kiss Maddy in the car park. I knew you’d been married and I knew you were still quite fond of her. And when I saw you kiss her, I thought … I thought you were still in love with her.’
A silence fell, then at last he said, ‘So you told me you didn’t want to see me again.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry. At least I should have asked you, but I judged you. I condemned you without trial.’
‘And that was the only reason you decided we had to part?’
‘Well, it seemed so obvious!’ she wailed. ‘You had her photograph in your room, you seemed such good friends. And you’re a consultant and I’m only an SHO. It wouldn’t be surprising if you wanted someone, well, a bit like Maddy.’
‘We are good friends, but that’s all. Megan, do you know what you’ve made me suffer?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry! But it’s just as much as I’ve suffered, too. And now it turns out to have been in vain. Christopher, I’m so sorry. Will you forgive me?’
Lifting Suspicion Page 16
