by Kate Hardy
At least things were a bit easier now. They were all adjusting to the ‘new normal’. She worked her way through the triage list until it was time to start her vaccination clinic. Even though the vaccination meant she had to make little ones cry, it also meant she got a chance for baby cuddles. Gemma would never admit to being broody, but if she was honest with herself her biological clock always sat up and took notice when she had this kind of clinic.
It had been twelve years since she’d lost her little sister—since she’d lost her entire family, because her parents had closed off, too, unable to deal with their loss. Gemma had been so desperate to feel loved and to stop the pain of missing Sarah that she’d chosen completely the wrong way to do it; she’d gone off the rails and slept with way too many boys. Once her best friend’s mum had sat her down and talked some sense into her, Gemma had ended up going the other way: so determined not to be needy that she wouldn’t let her boyfriends close, and the relationships had fizzled out within weeks. She’d never managed to find anyone she’d really clicked with.
So the chances of her attending this particular clinic rather than running it were looking more and more remote. It was a good six months since she’d last had a casual date, let alone anything more meaningful. The nearest she’d get to having a real family of her own was being godmother to Scarlett, her best friend’s daughter. She was grateful for that, but at the same time she wondered why she still hadn’t been able to fix her own family. Why she still couldn’t get through to her parents.
She shook herself. Ridiculous. Why was she thinking about this now?
Perhaps, she thought, because Oliver Langley was precisely the sort of man she’d gone for, back in her difficult days. Tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed and gorgeous. And his coolness towards her had unsettled her; she was used to people reacting to her warmth and friendliness in kind.
Well, tough. It was his problem, not hers, and she didn’t have time to worry about it now. She had a job to do. She went into the corridor and called her first patient for her clinic.
CHAPTER TWO
‘I’VE BEEN DREADING this appointment. I really hate needles,’ Fenella Nichols confessed as she sat down by Gemma’s desk, settling the baby on her lap.
Gemma could’ve guessed that, because the year-old baby was fussing, having picked up on her mum’s stress. ‘A lot of people do,’ she said with a smile. ‘But you’re doing absolutely the right thing, bringing Laura here to protect her. Meningitis is nasty stuff, and so are mumps and measles and rubella. And you’ve dressed her perfectly, so I’ve got easy access to her thigh and her arm and it won’t cause her a lot of worry.’ She stroked the baby’s cheek. ‘Hello, gorgeous. Do I get a smile?’
To her relief, the baby gurgled.
‘You’ve got her red book?’ Gemma checked.
‘Yes.’ Fenella produced it and put it on the desk.
‘Great. How’s everything going?’ This was the point where Gemma knew that if there were any real worries, Fenella would unburden herself and Gemma could start to fix things.
‘My husband thinks she’s a bit behind. I mean, I know she’s a bit on the small side, but I thought she takes after me.’
Fenella was slender and just about five feet tall, a good six inches shorter than Gemma. ‘You’re probably right. I’ll measure her and look at her centile chart,’ Gemma promised. ‘And I can hear for myself that she’s starting to get chatty.’
‘Dada, dog and duck are her favourite words,’ Fenella said with a smile. ‘And she’s pulling herself up on the furniture.’
‘It won’t be long until she’s walking, then. You’ll be seeing the health visitor about her milestones,’ Gemma said, ‘but from what you’re saying there’s nothing to worry about.’ Gemma waved at the baby, who waved back. Then she took a picture book from the tray on her desk, opened it and held it in front of the baby. ‘Can you see the duck, Laura?’
The baby cooed and pointed at the picture of a duck.
‘Can you help Laura find the lamb in the book, Fenella?’
With both mum and baby distracted, it was easy for Gemma to prepare Laura’s thigh for the vaccination and administer it. Laura cried for a moment, but was soon distracted by her mum turning the page to another picture. ‘Dog!’ she said, pointing.
‘That’s brilliant,’ Gemma said. ‘You might see a red area come up around the injection site later this morning, Fenella, but that’ll go in a couple of days. And sometimes after the meningitis vaccine babies get a bit of a temperature, but I’m going to give Laura some liquid paracetamol now to help stop that happening. Make sure you give her plenty to drink, and if she feels a bit hot take off a layer or two. You can give her more paracetamol if you need to in four hours, and if you’re worried give us a call.’
‘All right. Thank you, Gemma.’
Gemma weighed and measured the baby, recording the figures as well as the vaccination details in the red book. ‘Laura’s following the same trend line she’s been on since birth, a shade under the middle, so I’m very happy. Is there anything you’re concerned about, or anything you’d like to chat over?’
‘No.’ Fenella smiled. ‘But I think I’m going to make my husband bring her for the next injections.’
Gemma laughed. ‘That sounds like a good plan.’
Her next patient was a little older, so she distracted him from the ‘sharp scratch’ by getting him to sing ‘Old Macdonald Had a Zoo’ with her.
‘Zoo?’ his mum asked, laughing.
‘Absolutely,’ Gemma said with a grin. ‘It makes a change from a farm with cows and sheep. With a zoo, we can have elephants, tigers, lions, crocodiles...’
‘Crocodiles!’ the little boy said, his eyes going round with excitement.
‘A snap-snap here,’ Gemma sang.
In all the excitement of the song, the little boy forgot to be upset about the needle.
This was one of the bits of the job Gemma loved: the interaction with her younger patients. If she hadn’t decided to go into general practice, she would definitely have worked in paediatrics.
She dispensed a sticker announcing ‘I was THIS brave’ at the end of the appointment, did the necessary cleaning in the treatment room, and called in her next patient. As it was the school holidays, she also had a couple of teenagers at the clinic who’d missed their meningitis vaccine and needed to catch up.
‘So you’re off to uni in a couple of months?’ she asked the first one.
‘If I get my grades.’ Millie bit her lip. ‘I’m dreading results day.’
‘You have my sympathy. I still remember mine.’ The second time round had given Gemma the grades she’d needed, but the first time had been a disaster. Her year of going off the rails had meant she’d failed her exams spectacularly and she’d had to repeat the second year of her A levels and resit her exams. ‘Just remember that there’s always a plan B,’ Gemma said. ‘Even if you don’t get your first choice, you’re still going to have a good time because you’ll be doing the subject you love.’
‘I guess.’ Millie grimaced. ‘Mum’s worrying.’
‘That’s what mums do,’ Gemma said. ‘But this is one worry you can tick off her list.’ She smiled. ‘My mum was the same.’ Well. Almost. After Sarah’s death, her mum had seemed to close off. But her best friend Claire’s mum Yvonne had worried about her. And Yvonne had been the one to sit down with Gemma and finally make her get her act together after she’d failed her exams. ‘She got me to make a list of what I was worrying about. Then we talked about it and made a plan together. My mum—’ well, Claire’s mum ‘—worried about me eating properly, so I got her to teach me how to make some meals that were quick, easy and cheap.’
‘That’s a really good idea. Thank you,’ Millie said.
‘Good luck, and I hope you have a wonderful time at uni,’ Gemma said when Millie left.
Her clinic fi
nished on time; she sorted out her paperwork, checked on the practice app that Oliver’s last appointment had finished, then went to knock on his door.
‘Time for lunch,’ she said, giving him her warmest smile in the hope that it might thaw him out a bit.
He looked up from his desk. ‘Really, there’s no need.’
He was going to be stubborn about it? Well, maybe he needed to learn that he wasn’t the only one who could be stubborn. He might only be here temporarily, but for those three months he was going to be part of the team. Being snooty and refusing to mix with everyone wasn’t an option. ‘There’s every need,’ she said. ‘You’re new to the village and it’s your first day at the practice. We’re a team and we look after each other. I thought we could have lunch by the cliffs—the local bakery does the best sandwiches ever. And, as it’s your first day, it’s my shout.’
When he opened his mouth, she guessed he was about to refuse, and added swiftly, ‘No protests allowed.’ He looked wary, and she sighed. ‘Look, it’s just a sandwich and some coffee. A welcome-to-the-practice sort of thing. You’re not under any obligation to me whatsoever if you accept.’
He looked awkward, then. ‘Thank you,’ he muttered.
She’d get a proper smile out of him if it killed her. ‘I’m glad that’s settled. It’s a five-minute walk from here to the bakery, and five minutes from there to the cliffs.’
He followed her out of the door. Still silent, she noticed. OK. She’d start the conversation. Something easy. Food was always a safe subject. ‘For the purposes of transparency, the bakery happens to be owned by my best friend, but I stand by what I said. Claire makes amazingly good sourdough and her brownies have to be tasted to be believed.’
‘Right.’
Oh, for pity’s sake. Could he not meet her halfway and at least make an effort at small talk? She tried again. ‘Are you not a cake person?’
He wrinkled his nose. ‘Not really.’
So he wouldn’t be buying cake from her on her regular Friday morning bake sale. ‘Looks as if we’re opposites, then,’ she said lightly, ‘because I think cake makes the world go round.’
Was she being paranoid, or was he looking at her as if she had two heads? If she hadn’t promised Caroline she’d look after him, she would’ve walked away and left him to his own grouchy company.
At the bakery, once they’d chosen their sandwiches and he’d ordered an espresso, she added a lemon and raspberry cake to their order along with one of Claire’s savoury muffins.
Oliver carried the brown paper bag with their lunch, but he didn’t make conversation on the steep path up to the cliffs.
Was he shy, perhaps? He might find it easier to be professional with his patients than with his coworkers, but somehow she was going to have to persuade him to thaw a little. They really didn’t need any tension at work.
Finally they made it to the clifftop. Gemma took the picnic blanket from her backpack and spread it on the grass with a flourish. ‘Have a seat,’ she said with a smile.
‘Do you always carry a picnic blanket?’ he asked, looking surprised.
She nodded. ‘If it’s not raining, I usually come up here for lunch. The view’s amazing.’
‘It is,’ he agreed, looking out at the sand and the sea.
‘It’s the best place I know to clear your head and set you up for the rest of the day.’
He sat down next to her, opened the paper bag, checked the labels written on the contents and handed her a coffee and a sandwich. ‘Thank you for lunch.’
‘You’re welcome. How was your first morning?’
‘Fine.’
He was still being cool. So much for hoping that lunch might win him round.
‘Win me round?’ The coolness was verging on arctic, now.
She grimaced. ‘I said that aloud, didn’t I? I’m sorry.’ She took a deep breath. ‘We don’t seem to be getting on very well. I was trying to be nice and look out for a new colleague. If I’ve come across as in your face or patronising, I apologise.’
He was still looking at her as if she had two heads. She sighed inwardly. What would it take to get a decent working relationship going with her new colleague?
Then again, she hadn’t managed to fix her relationship with her parents. She was the common factor in both situations, so maybe she was the problem. Maybe she should just give up—on both counts. ‘Now I know you’re not a cake person, I won’t try to sell you a Friday Fundraiser cake.’
‘What’s a Friday Fundraiser cake?’
‘Before Covid, I used to have a cake stall in the waiting room on Friday mornings to raise money for the local cardiac unit. I’d sell cake and cookies to patients, staff, anyone who happened to be around.’ She sighed. ‘Caroline’s given me the go-ahead to do it again now, but it’s on a much smaller scale because we don’t have as many face-to-face appointments as we used to.’ She shrugged.
‘But it’s better than nothing. All the little bits add up. I do a big fundraiser every three or four months; my skydive in the spring had to be postponed because of bad weather, so I’m doing it next month. There’s no obligation to sponsor me, but if you’d like to then I’d be very grateful, even if it’s only a pound.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘I’ve been fundraising for about ten years, so I think everyone else in the practice has got donation fatigue, by now—if I’m honest, probably everyone in the village.’
* * *
Donation fatigue?
Ollie thought about it, and then the penny dropped.
‘That’s why you told Maddie I was fresh meat?’
She looked horrified. ‘Oh, no! I mean—yes, I did say that, but the way you just said it makes it sound terrible. I’m so sorry. And I’m not...’ She shook her head, her eyes widening as a thought clearly struck her. ‘Oh, no. Did you think I was some kind of man-eater planning to hit on you?’
It had rather crossed his mind.
And he was pretty sure it showed on his face, because she said quickly, ‘That’s not who I am.’ She bit her lip. ‘I barely know you. You could be married with children, or at least involved with someone. Of course I wasn’t sizing you up as a potential partner. No wonder you’ve been so reserved with me, thinking I was about to pounce on you. I’m really sorry.’ She grimaced. ‘What a horrible way to welcome you to the practice.’
Ollie looked at her. The dismay on her face seemed genuine.
‘Look, forget what I just said about asking you to sponsor me,’ she said. ‘I know they say there’s no such thing as a free lunch, but this really is one. I just wanted to do what Caroline asked of me and welcome you to the practice. To show you where the best place is to grab a sandwich, even if I am a tiny bit biased, and somewhere nice to sit and eat or even just walk for a bit if you need to clear your head, because when you’re new to the area it’s always good to have someone showing you these things.’
Even though Ollie didn’t quite trust his own judgement any more—not after he’d got it so wrong with Tabby, thinking that she’d loved him as much as he’d loved her—the look in Gemma’s eyes seemed genuine. And she seemed to be trying very hard to hold out an olive branch. Maybe he should do the same.
‘I think we got off on completely the wrong foot,’ he said. ‘Let’s start again. I’m Oliver Langley and I’m the locum for Aadya Devi, for the next three months.’ He held out his hand.
‘Gemma Baxter, nurse practitioner,’ she said, taking his hand and shaking it. ‘Welcome to Ashermouth Bay Surgery, Dr Langley.’
Shaking her hand was a mistake, Ollie realised quickly. His fingers tingled at her touch and adrenalin pumped through him, making his heart start to pound. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this aware of anyone, even Tabby, and he couldn’t quite let himself meet Gemma’s eyes. ‘Thank you,’ he muttered, dropping her hand again.
‘Caroline said you were from
London. What made you decide to come to Northumberland?’
To escape the fallout of his bad decisions. To hide and lick his wounds. To be a living donor for his twin’s kidney transplant. Not that he planned to explain any of that. Even though he knew it wasn’t the real reason why, he said, ‘My parents moved up here ten years ago. Dad developed angina, and Mum wanted him to retire early and take things a bit easier. So they spend their days pottering around in the garden and going out for lunch.’
‘Sounds nice,’ she said. ‘And they must be so pleased that you’ll be closer to them now than you were in London.’
And his twin, but Ollie wasn’t quite ready to share that yet. ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Are you from round here?’
‘Yes. I grew up in Ashermouth Bay. I did my training in Liverpool, but I knew I wanted to work back here,’ she said. ‘Luckily, when I qualified, one of the nurses at the practice was thinking about retiring, so I had the chance to work here and do my nurse practitioner training part-time.’
‘So your family lives here?’
A shadow seemed to pass across her face, or maybe he was imagining it, but then she said, ‘Not far from here.’
‘And you always wanted to work in general practice rather than at the hospital?’
She nodded. ‘I like the idea of really knowing my patients, watching them grow up and looking after their whole families. Being part of a community—in a hospital, you might look after someone for a few days or a few weeks, but it isn’t the same.’ She looked at him. ‘Did you always plan to be a GP?’
‘I nearly went into obstetrics,’ he said. ‘I trained in London. I enjoyed all my rotations, and delivering babies was amazing. But then my dad was diagnosed with angina, and it made me have a rethink.’
‘You weren’t tempted to specialise in cardiology?’
He shook his head. ‘Partly because it was a little bit too close to the bone. But I realised I wanted to be the kind of doctor who’d be able to pick up a problem before his patient really started to suffer from it. Which meant being a GP.’
