The Doctor's Christmas Gift

by Jennifer Taylor

  ‘Got it. Hang on a sec while I check the files,’ he instructed. ‘The patient’s name doesn’t seem to ring any bells, I have to confess.’

  There was a soft thud as he put the receiver down. Catherine clamped the cellphone against her ear as she waited for him to come back. She wasn’t normally a nervous person but there was something decidedly unsettling about standing in the middle of the deserted street. It was a huge relief when Matt came back on the line a few seconds later.

  ‘I’ve got the file right here in front of me and the information you have is correct. We have Mrs Grimes listed as living at number forty-two Ansell Heights.’

  ‘Then I’m not sure what’s happened,’ Catherine admitted, hoping Matt couldn’t tell how nervous she felt. ‘I must have knocked at least a dozen times, but I couldn’t get an answer.’

  ‘That’s strange. According to our records, Mrs Grimes has lived there for some time. She must be in her seventies now and the last time we saw her at the surgery was just over three years ago. She’s one of Glenda’s patients, which explains why I don’t remember her.’

  There was a touch of impatience in his voice but Catherine knew she wasn’t responsible for it. He was annoyed with himself for not being able to recall the patient in question.

  ‘You can’t remember every patient who’s registered with the practice,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Hmm, s’pose not.’ He gave a rueful laugh. ‘How did you know what I was thinking?’

  How indeed? It was a good question and one she had no intention of answering. ‘A lucky guess,’ she replied shortly, refusing to dwell on how easily she had latched onto his thoughts. ‘Anyway, thanks for checking the address for me. I’ll give it one last shot then call it a day. Maybe Mrs Grimes felt better and went out, forgetting that she’d asked for a home visit.’

  ‘It’s possible but I think I’ll have a word with Social Services to see if they’ve had any dealings with her recently. I’d hate to think she might be too ill to answer the door.’

  ‘Good point,’ Catherine agreed. ‘I’ll check back with you if I can’t get a reply this time and we’ll take it from there.’

  ‘Do that. I’m here if you need me, Cathy. Just give me a call.’

  ‘I will.’

  Catherine sighed as she slipped the phone into her pocket, wondering if she should ask Matt not to keep calling her Cathy. She didn’t want to cause a fuss but it might be better to make her feelings clear. Of course, the other alternative was to ignore it…

  Oh, yeah! a small voice jeered. So she could ignore him calling her Cathy, could she?

  Her mouth pursed because she really wasn’t used to behaving in this ambivalent fashion. Normally, she wouldn’t have hesitated about making her feelings plain so it was galling to find herself debating the issue. What was it about Matt that made even the simplest decision so difficult?

  She had no more idea what the answer was to that question than she had to so many others that seemed to have arisen of late so she put it out of her mind as she went back inside the building and made her way to the fourth floor. She rapped on the door and almost leapt out of her skin when a querulous voice answered from inside.

  ‘Who’s there? What do you want?’

  ‘It’s Dr Lewis, Mrs Grimes. From Brookdale Surgery.’

  ‘Lewis? I don’t know any doctor by the name of Lewis. You get away from here. Go on. Leave me alone!’

  Catherine frowned when she heard the panic in the old lady’s voice. The poor soul sounded really terrified and she couldn’t understand why she should be so afraid.

  ‘I’m new at the surgery, which is why you won’t have heard of me. I only started working there on Monday, in fact. I’m replacing Dr Williams while she’s away on leave.’

  She carried on in the same reassuring vein when the old lady didn’t reply. ‘There’s really nothing to be frightened about, Mrs Grimes. I just want to check that you’re all right so won’t you, please, open the door?’

  Catherine held her breath, hoping that her reassurances would have the desired effect. She heaved a sigh of relief when she heard bolts being drawn before a wrinkled face peered round the door.

  ‘Are you sure you’re from the surgery? You ain’t one of that other lot, are you?’

  ‘No.’ Catherine shook her head although she had no idea what the old lady had meant. ‘I’m one of the doctors from Brookdale Surgery. Here’s my identity card.’

  She passed the plastic wallet containing her ID through the opening and after a moment the old lady opened the door properly.

  ‘I suppose you’d better come in.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Catherine followed the old lady into a cluttered sitting room. Every surface was piled high with old newspapers and magazines and she paused while she tried to find somewhere to put her case. She finally spotted a gap on the end of the dining table and went towards it.

  ‘Mind you don’t knock anything over!’ Mrs Grimes warned her. ‘My Alfred was most particular about keeping his papers in order, said that he could lay his hand on whatever he wanted, he did.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Grimes. I’ll be careful,’ Catherine assured her, thinking that Alfred must have been a genius if he could perform that feat. If there was any kind of filing system to the papers then it certainly wasn’t apparent!

  She put her bag down then went and perched on the edge of the settee. ‘Now, would you like to tell me what’s wrong, Mrs Grimes?’

  ‘This.’ The old lady lifted her skirt to reveal a large area of reddened flesh on her bony thigh.

  Catherine frowned in concern. ‘That looks very nasty. How did it happen?’

  ‘It was my Timmy, you see. He jumped onto my knee when I was having my breakfast and I spilled my cup of tea. Hurt quite a lot it did, which is why I called you.’

  ‘I’m sure it must have done,’ Catherine agreed, getting up to fetch a pair of gloves from her case. She knelt down beside the old lady and gently examined the scald, which extended from the top of Mrs Grimes’s left thigh almost to her knee. The skin had blistered and some of the blisters had broken and were oozing serum. Catherine frowned when she saw that bits of wool from the old lady’s skirt had stuck to the open wounds. She would need to clean up the whole area before she could dress it.

  ‘So who’s Timmy, then? Is he your dog?’ she asked hoping to distract the old lady’s attention. Although the scald wasn’t severe enough to warrant hospitalisation, it was bound to be painful.

  ‘He’s a cat, a big old thing who’s past his sell-by date. A bit like me, in fact!’ Mrs Grimes gave a cackling laugh and Catherine chuckled.

  ‘Well, he’s a naughty cat if this is an example of the trouble he causes.’

  ‘That’s as maybe, but I wouldn’t give him up for anything.’ Mrs Grimes’s tone was belligerent all of a sudden. ‘He’s all I’ve got now that my Albert is dead. I know to some folks he’s only a cat but to me he’s family. We didn’t have children, me and Albert—we weren’t blessed that way—but we always had a cat and Timmy is the best one of them all. They won’t make me move from here until they find me some place where I can take my Timmy, and I’ve told them that!’

  ‘They?’ Catherine repeated. ‘Do you mean the council?’

  ‘Council. Social Services. They’re all the same to me. It don’t really matter what they call themselves. They come in here, telling me what I can and can’t do, saying that they’re very sorry, Mrs Grimes, but you can’t take your cat with you but at least you’ll have a nice new flat to live in so don’t worry.’ The old lady sucked in an indignant breath. ‘Told them straight, I did—if I can’t take Timmy then I’m going nowhere. I don’t care if I’m the last one left in the whole building because I’m not moving without him!’

  Catherine sighed as she put down the tweezers she’d been using. It explained why the old lady was still living in the block of flats when most of the other tenants had left. Mrs Grimes had refused to be parted from her beloved pet.

&n
bsp; She got up and went to her case for some Tulle Gras dressings. The dressings were impregnated with antibiotic and would minimise the risk of infection, which was one of the biggest problems associated with this kind of injury. She carefully dressed the old lady’s leg, thinking how wrong it was that someone as vulnerable as this should be treated in such a cavalier fashion.

  ‘Surely the council could find you a place to live where you could take Timmy? There must be a lot of people like you, who have pets they don’t want to be parted from.’

  Mrs Grimes shrugged. ‘That’s what I keep telling them but they take no notice. They seem to think they can push me around because I’m too old to fight them…’ She broke off when a huge ginger-coloured tom-cat appeared. ‘Here he is now. Come on Timmy, darlin’. Come to your mum.’

  Catherine laughed when the cat stalked across the room and sat down beside the old lady’s chair. ‘He seems to understand what you say to him, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Course he does! Understands every word, don’t you, sweetheart? That’s why he’s such good company. Why, if I didn’t have my Timmy to look after then there’d be no reason to get up of a morning. He’s what keeps me going.’

  And yet some faceless officials were trying to force the poor soul into giving up the animal. Catherine felt a sudden spurt of anger at such high-handed officialdom. As she cleared up, she found herself wondering if there was anything she could do to help the old lady. Normally, she wouldn’t have dreamt of getting involved with a patient’s housing problems, but Mrs Grimes’s plight had touched her. Maybe a phone call to the local housing office would garner some positive results?

  She made a note to contact them the following day although she decided not to mention it to Mrs Grimes in case she raised her hopes unnecessarily. She locked her case and picked it up.

  ‘Your leg should feel a bit better now, Mrs Grimes, but you’re going to need the dressings changed so I’ll ask Ann Talbot, our practice nurse, to call round to see you.’

  ‘I’d rather you came, Doctor. I know who you are now so what’s the point in me having to get used to someone else?’ Mrs Grimes glanced at the cat. ‘And Timmy knows you now as well.’

  Catherine laughed. ‘In that case, it does seem silly to involve Ann, doesn’t it? Very well, Mrs Grimes, I’ll call round again tomorrow afternoon to check how you are.’

  ‘I’ll be here, Doctor,’ Mrs Grimes assured her. ‘I don’t get out much nowadays. Most of the time the lift isn’t working and it’s a bit of a struggle up and down all those stairs.’

  The old lady started to get up but Catherine shook her head. ‘No, you stay there. I can let myself out. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs Grimes. And you, too, Timmy.’

  Catherine left the flat and made her way down to the street. It was pitch black outside and she groaned when she realised just how late she was going to be for surgery. The evening rush hour would have started by now and that would add even more time to her journey…

  ‘Everything OK?’

  She whirled round and felt her heart thump when she spotted Matthew leaning against his car. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Waiting for you, of course.’ He glanced at his watch as he straightened and walked towards her. ‘You had another thirty seconds before I came to find you.’

  ‘You were coming to find me?’ she repeated blankly. ‘But why?’

  ‘Because I was worried about you.’ He smiled at her, his eyes gently mocking her. ‘Naturally.’

  Naturally? Was it really a foregone conclusion that he should worry about her? Catherine knew that she should stop right there and not allow herself to go any further. The fact that Matt had been concerned enough to come all this way to find her was more than enough to contend with, without adding anything else to the equation.

  How long had it been since anyone had cared about her this much? she thought wonderingly, then quickly blanked out the thought because it made her feel far too vulnerable to think about it.

  ‘I appreciate your concern,’ she said stiffly, trying to hide how mixed up she felt. She didn’t want Matt to feel responsible for her but she’d be a liar if she tried to claim that it didn’t feel good to know that he cared. ‘However, you needn’t have worried because I was fine.’

  ‘That’s good to hear but I couldn’t stop myself worrying, Cathy.’

  He touched her lightly on the arm and even through the thickness of her winter jacket she could feel the comforting heat of his hand. It was a relief when he released her as he turned to look along the street because she knew just how tempting it would be to let his hand remain on her arm. When Matt touched her like that she felt safe, and it was such an unexpected feeling that it scared her. It was an effort to concentrate because the thought of ever relying on anyone other than herself was more than she could bear.

  ‘After you rang off I suddenly remembered reading that this whole area was scheduled for demolition. I was afraid that someone had sent you on a wild-goose chase—used Mrs Grimes’s name and address to get you here under false pretences. I decided that it wasn’t worth taking any risks and that I would check that you were all right.’

  ‘And as you can see, I’m fine.’ Catherine summoned a smile, determined not to let him see how rattled she was. She had decided a long time ago that she would never put herself in the same position her mother had been in. She would never, ever allow anyone to let her down!

  ‘I hadn’t realised the whole street was due to come down,’ she said, drawing strength from the thought. ‘It makes it even more imperative that something should be done to help Mrs Grimes. It’s a disgrace that a woman her age should be left in a place like this.’

  ‘I agree. Why hasn’t the council rehoused her? Did she say?’

  ‘Apparently, she refused to move because they wouldn’t let her take her cat.’

  ‘Typical heavy-handed bureaucracy!’ Matthew snorted in disgust. ‘So what are we going to do about it?’

  We? Since when had this become his concern? Catherine wondered. He seemed to have taken it for granted that they would work together and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. To move from I to us mightn’t be a very big step in terms of conjugating the verb, but it was a gigantic leap by her terms.

  ‘I thought I would contact the housing office tomorrow,’ she explained, delicately emphasising the personal pronoun.

  ‘Fine, then I shall get onto Social Services and see what they have to say.’

  Matthew gently mocked her but she knew there was no point trying to stop him. He’d made up his mind that he intended to stand shoulder to shoulder with her in this battle and nothing would stop him seeing it through.

  ‘Fine.’ Catherine turned away before he could see her expression. Maybe it was because she had grown used to facing the world alone that made her feel so emotional at the thought of Matt supporting her. She no longer felt completely on her own and it was a strange feeling, one she really didn’t know how to deal with. It was a relief to get back into her car and close the door because it made her feel in control once more.

  Matt tapped on the window and she reluctantly wound it down a couple of inches. ‘Do you want to follow me back to the surgery? I know a short cut, although we’re still going to be extremely late.’ He pulled a face. ‘I don’t know if I can cope with Margaret telling me off twice in one day. D’you think she’ll make me write out one hundred times, “I must not keep my patients waiting”?’

  Catherine laughed because she couldn’t help it. His expression was just so comical. ‘Only one hundred times? I think you’re being a bit optimistic. More like two hundred times, I’d say!’

  ‘Don’t!’ He groaned as he flexed his fingers. ‘Oh, I can feel a severe case of writer’s cramp setting in already! Still, the consolation is that you’ll be in the doghouse with me. We can write out our lines together.’

  He gave her a last, cheeky grin then got into his car. Catherine started the engine then waited for Matt to set off. He stuck his arm out of t
he window and waved then led the way up the street, monitoring his speed so that she had no difficulty keeping up as he wove through a complicated network of back streets.

  Catherine grimaced as she followed him along the route. She would never have found this by herself! They came to a junction with the main road and she had to stop although Matt managed to cross over. She saw him pull in to wait for her and felt a wave of warmth encompass her. It felt so good to be looked after like this—too good, in fact.

  The feeling of warmth abruptly faded as it struck her how easy it would be to rely on him. Matt was that kind of a person—reliable, trustworthy, dependable. He was also a lot of other things as well, like handsome and fun, kind and caring, and that made him even more dangerous. The Matthew Fieldings of this world weren’t for her. There could be no half-measures with a man like Matt, no compromises. If he loved a woman it would be with his whole heart and without reservation. That he would expect the same from the woman concerned went without question but Catherine had no intention of giving any man that much power over her.

  Her heart was suddenly heavy as she crossed the junction and followed Matt’s car as he set off again. She might be content to let Matt lead her back to the surgery but she must never let him lead her astray.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ALTHOUGH Matthew’s short cut had helped, they were still fifteen minutes late by the time they arrived back at the surgery. Matt went straight inside while Catherine was parking her car, obviously wanting to reassure the reception staff that they hadn’t been deserted.

  Catherine shrugged off her jacket as she hurriedly followed him into the surgery. The waiting room was packed and she smiled apologetically at the two receptionists as she passed their desk.

  ‘I am so sorry I’m late! I got held up, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Think nothing of it, Dr Lewis. We’re used to it, aren’t we, Sharon?’ Margaret cast a world-weary look at the younger receptionist, who grinned.

  ‘But it really isn’t like me,’ Catherine insisted, not wanting them to get the wrong idea. ‘I’m always so punctual normally.’