Prince Charming of Harley Street / The Heart Doctor and the Baby

by Anne Fraser / Lynne Marshall

  ‘Sophia, everything that you tell me is always in complete confidence,’ Jonathan said firmly. He placed an arm under her elbow and without appearing to add any pressure, eased her to her feet. Despite the look of resolve on the older woman’s face, Rose could tell the movement caused her some discomfort. Probably arthritis. Or something like it.

  ‘Do you mind awfully keeping Mr Chips while I’m in with the doctor? He gets so restless if I don’t pay him my full attention,’ Lady Hilton asked Rose.

  It wasn’t really a question. Dog-sitting hadn’t been in the job description. But, hey, it wasn’t as if she was overrun with work, and he seemed to have gone to sleep in her arms.

  Rose smiled. ‘Don’t worry. He’ll be fine with me. If he wakes up and starts looking for you, I’ll bring him in.’

  While Rose waited for the next patient to arrive, she looked around for something to do. She liked to keep busy. Not that she could do much with a dog asleep in her arms. Spotting her discarded cardigan hanging on the back of the chair, she used one hand to form it into a little bed on the floor under her desk. She placed the sleeping dog on top. He looked at her with one eye, then gave a contented sigh and settled back down to sleep. Okay, what next? Perhaps she should ask Jonathan whether he would mind if she brought in some textbooks and did some revision in between patients? She couldn’t see why he’d object. Unless she had more to occupy her, she’d go mad with boredom.

  Her glance fell on the pile of magazines Lady Hilton had picked up in the short time she’d been in the waiting room. They were a mix of high-fashion glossies and society-gossip magazines, the type Rose never ever looked through—or at least never bought. She had to admit taking a sneaky look once or twice when she was at the hairdressers, but that wasn’t the same as buying them. Other people’s lives didn’t really interest her, not unless they were doing something remarkable, like climbing Everest or walking unaccompanied to the South Pole. Now, those were people with intriguing lives, not folk who were famous, well, because they were married to a footballer or had a rich father.

  Casually she flicked through the first magazine she picked up, curious despite herself. She came to a few pages near the middle, which had photographs of celebrities out on the town. Suddenly she stopped. Staring out at her, his arm around the waist of a woman with long wavy red hair, a figure to die for and a dress that would have cost Rose a year’s salary, was Jonathan. He was dressed in a dinner jacket and a white shirt and appeared relaxed and at ease. Rose peered closer. Although he was smiling, there was something in his eyes that suggested he wasn’t best pleased to be photographed. The caption underneath read ‘The Honourable Jonathan Cavendish and his girlfriend, actress Jessamine Goldsmith, at the premiere of her film One Night In Heaven.’

  Rose was having a hard time getting her head around it. He was an honourable, the son of a lord, his girlfriend was a movie star. And he was her boss. A GP. She felt her lips curl in disapproval. That wasn’t the kind of doctor she approved of. People should go into medicine to help others, not to finance some gad-about lifestyle. However, it was nothing to do with her. She was here to do a job and as long as her new boss didn’t actually go around killing his patients with his incompetence, who was she to judge?

  The door swished open and she dropped the magazine as if it were a hot potato.

  A woman with short curly hair and a look of panic rushed into the room. She ran past Rose without saying anything, heading straight for the staff bathroom. Once again, Rose was bemused. It was beginning to feel as if she had walked in to a madhouse. Who on earth was that? She hadn’t rung the doorbell so she must have a key. And she knew exactly where the staff bathroom was. Could this be the missing Nurse Vicki?

  A few minutes later, the woman reappeared. Although she still looked pale, some colour had returned to her cheeks.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said collapsing into a chair. ‘You must be the temp covering for Tiggy. She phoned me on Saturday to let me know she was going to be away and there would be a temp filling in.’ She took a shuddering breath. ‘You must think me incredibly rude, rushing in like that without so much as a good morning.’

  Rose crossed to the woman’s side. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Not really.’ She grimaced before holding out a hand to Rose. ‘I’m Victoria, my friends call me Vicki. I’ve just been terribly sick. Thank God I made it here in time. It would have been too embarrassing throwing up in public.’

  ‘Should you be at work?’ Rose said. ‘Couldn’t you have taken the day off?’

  ‘I would have. If I hadn’t known Tiggy was off. Or if I’d known I was going to feel this bad. I felt okay until I got off the tube, then I just started to feel worse and worse.’

  ‘Dr Cavendish is in with a patient. Should I call him?’ Vicki did look awful. There was no way she should stay at work. Rose watched in alarm as the colour drained from the nurse’s cheeks again.

  ‘Oh, no, sorry.’ Vicki clamped a hand across her mouth and bolted for the bathroom.

  While she waited for Vicki to re-emerge, Rose switched the kettle on again and finding some peppermint tea set about making a pot. She hoped the drink would help settle Vicki’s stomach. There was no way she could be allowed to return home until she stopped feeling ill.

  ‘You must wonder what kind of place you’ve walked into.’ Vicki’s voice came from behind her. ‘The nurse more ill than the patients. And I see Lady Hilton has brought Mr Chips in again. I do hope he won’t relieve himself in the plant pot again. Oh, is that tea? Could I have some?’

  ‘I think you should try a couple of sips. Why don’t you sit down? You look as if you could collapse at any minute.’

  Vicki sat on one of the chairs at the kitchen table. ‘Jonathan is not going to be happy about this,’ she confided. ‘The last time I was off the full eight months. He had to find someone to replace me, and she didn’t turn out to be great.’

  Realisation was beginning to dawn on Rose.

  ‘You’re pregnant?’

  Vicki nodded. ‘Oh, I’d better not do that again,’ she moaned. ‘Any movement just makes it worse.’

  ‘And you had hyperemesis with the last pregnancy.’

  ‘Hey, you’re pretty switched on. Have you had it? Is that how you know?’ She was too polite to say so, but Rose guessed she was wondering how a medical secretary would know about the condition an unfortunate few women suffered in pregnancy.

  ‘I’m a trained nurse. Poor you. How badly did you have it last time?’

  ‘Bad enough to put me in hospital, I’m afraid. And to keep me off work for most of my pregnancy.’ She took a tentative sip of her tea. ‘I’m dreading having to tell Jonathan.’

  ‘He doesn’t know you’re pregnant?’

  ‘I wasn’t going to tell him just yet. I’m only eight weeks. And I hoped that I would be better this time around.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll understand.’

  ‘He’s a real softy. Of course he’ll understand. I just hate letting him down. The patients like to see me. They’re used to me. Most of the older ones hate change. My obstetrician tells me it might get better by around twelve weeks, but I’m not holding my breath.’

  The sound of a door opening alerted Rose to the fact that Jonathan’s consultation with Lady Hilton had ended.

  ‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ she reassured Vicki. ‘Just you stay there until I get back.’

  She scooped up Mr Chips from his nest in her cardigan and carried him over to Lady Hilton. The movement roused the dog from his nap and he reached up, attempting to lick Rose’s face. She just managed to avert the doggy kiss by passing Mr Chips over to his owner.

  ‘Has my baby been a good boy, then?’ Lady Hilton cuddled her dog as if it had been days rather than minutes since they’d been together. But as she buried her face in her pet’s fur, Rose noticed tears in the corner of her eyes.

  ‘I’ll come to the house to see you and Giles later this week,’ Jonathan said. ‘In the meantime, we’ll
try this new prescription. See if that makes a difference.’ He patted her arm. ‘The next few weeks are going to be rough,’ he said. ‘Call me any time. I mean it.’

  He looked around. ‘Rose, have you seen Vicki? She’s usually in by now.’

  ‘In the kitchen, having a cup of tea. I’m afraid she’s not feeling very well.’

  A look of concern swept across Jonathan’s face. ‘I’ll go and check up on her. I’ll see you soon, Sophia. Take care.’ He kissed the woman on the cheek again and Rose showed her out.

  Rose retreated behind her desk, giving Vicki the chance to tell Jonathan her news. She ran through the condition in her mind. Although hyperemesis was hugely debilitating, it was rarely life threatening. However, being constantly sick would prevent Vicki from working and might well require another stay in hospital.

  Jonathan appeared with his arm around Vicki’s shoulder. ‘I’m going to take Vicki home,’ he said. ‘Do you think you could hold the fort until I come back? I’ll be about an hour.’

  ‘Your next patient is due in about ten minutes,’ Rose reminded him. ‘Lord Bletchley?’

  ‘I can manage, Jonathan,’ Vicki said weakly. ‘I’ll take a taxi. You stay and see your patient. You know what Lord Wretchley—I mean, Lord Bletchley’s like. He’ll go through the roof if he’s kept waiting.’

  ‘He’ll just have to,’ Jonathan replied, looking determined. ‘I don’t want you to go in a taxi. Not when you might throw up again. You know what some of these drivers are like. They might well kick you out.’

  ‘Couldn’t I take your car and drive Vicki home?’ Rose offered. ‘My insurance allows me to drive any car. That way you could see Lord Bletchley on time. It does mean there wouldn’t be anyone to cover reception, but seeing as it’s only the one patient we’re expecting, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. You can man the desk, whereas I’m not too sure he’d like to be seen by me.’

  Jonathan smiled and Rose’s heart gave a little blip. No man should have a smile like that, she thought. It just wasn’t fair on women.

  ‘Despite what anyone may have told you, I’m perfectly capable of answering the door.’ He dug in his pocket. ‘If you’re sure you don’t mind? My car’s parked outside. Vicki knows which one it is.’ He tossed a set of keys to Rose. ‘It has satellite navigation so you should be able to find your way to Vicki’s house and back okay.’

  Ignoring Vicki’s protests that really she could manage by herself, Rose retrieved a sick bowl from the treatment room and ushered her out the door.

  ‘Okay, which one is his?’

  Vicki pointed at a low-slung sports car. Rose felt the colour drain from her face. Although she knew relatively little about cars, she knew enough to know that the car must have cost at least as much as her parents’ house. For a second, she was tempted to go back inside and tell Jonathan she had changed her mind. But one look at Vicki told her that she needed to be at home and in bed as soon as possible. If she put a scratch on the car, Little Lord Fauntleroy would just have to live with it.

  Thankfully, Vicki knew how to work the sat nav and soon Rose was threading her way through the London traffic.

  ‘You don’t have to hold the steering-wheel as if it’s a wild animal about to attack you,’ Vicki said with a smile.

  She was right. A child on a three-wheeler would move faster. Rose forced herself to relax her grip. Now if only she could unclench her teeth, perhaps she could talk as well as drive.

  But it seemed as if Vicki was no more capable of chatting than she was. The nurse leaned back against her seat and closed her eyes. Rose followed the instructions of the disembodied voice from the computer and by some miracle managed to find her way to Vicki’s house without any disasters. Now all she had to do was make it back in one piece.

  ‘Is there anyone at home to look after you?’ she asked Vicki as they drew up in front of a small Victorian terrace.

  ‘My husband,’ Vicki replied. ‘He’s a police officer. He’s on night duty so he’ll be sleeping like the dead, but I’m sure he won’t mind me waking him if I need anything. Our daughter is in nursery school.’

  ‘I’ll just see you safely in,’ Rose said, and before Vicki could protest, she was out of the car and around the other side, helping her out.

  Vicki smiled at her. ‘Are you always this capable?’ she said.

  Rose smiled back. ‘I can’t help it. I was always the Guide who finished her badges long before anyone else did. The one who got the campfire going even when it was raining. It’s social occasions that get to me. Doing is better than talking, if you know what I mean? Although I’m getting better at that. Needs must. In my other life I’m a nurse.’

  Vicki frowned. ‘Why are you covering for Tiggy as the receptionist? Oops, I mean personal assistant. That’s how Tiggy prefers to be referred to. She’s a sweetheart, but she thinks it’s important everyone knows their place. Titles are important to her. And not just work ones either.’

  ‘The job I was offered was as receptionist. I used to work as a medical secretary before I did my nurse training. I was happy to do either since I just wanted something short term.’

  Vicki pulled a bunch of keys from her bag and opened her front door. ‘I can manage from here,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry that you’ve had all this dumped on you on your first day. I hope we haven’t scared you off. Johnny will need help. Would you be a sweetheart and phone the nursing agency and find out about a replacement for me?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out. You get to bed and I’ll see you whenever you come back to work.’

  Vicki grimaced. ‘God knows when that’ll be. Jonathan made me promise not to come back until I’ve stopped being sick. If it follows the same pattern as last time, it could be months.’

  ‘I’ll speak to him about finding someone to cover for you as soon as I get back to the office.’ Rose made her voice stern. ‘Now, inside and off you go to bed.’

  By the time Rose, with an enormous sigh of relief, returned to the surgery, it seemed as if Lord Bletchley had been and gone. Jonathan was back at her desk with his feet up, flicking through the magazine Rose had skimmed through earlier. He was scowling.

  ‘Bloody paparazzi,’ he muttered. ‘Can never get their facts right.’ He flung the magazine aside and got to his feet. ‘How is Vicki?’

  ‘She was going to go straight to bed. Her husband’s on night duty, so he’ll keep an eye on her.’

  Jonathan pulled his hand through his thick dark hair. ‘I can’t see her being back for at least a month. If then. Would you mind getting onto the nursing agencies? You’ll find the number of the one we use regularly in the diary. Ask if there’s anyone who could cover on a day-to-day basis for the next four weeks at a minimum.’

  An idea was beginning to form in Rose’s head, but she liked to think things through before she spoke. Jonathan looked at his watch. ‘I’ll be in my room if you need me. I’ve a couple of phone calls to make.’

  Could she? Should she? Rose rolled the idea around in her head. It would be the perfect solution. She was a trained nurse and there really wasn’t that much to keep her busy at the desk. Mrs Smythe Jones had told her that she hoped to be back in a week or two. Rose could combine both roles for a short time. She’d much prefer to be kept busy. And if they needed someone to man the desk while she was in with a patient, she thought she had a solution to that too.

  The ringing of the door interrupted her musings. She pressed the door release and watched bemused as a teenage boy with a resentful expression was almost dragged inside by an irate-looking woman.

  ‘Come on, Richard,’ the woman was saying. ‘We might as well see the doctor now we’re here.’

  The boy looked at Rose through long hair that almost covered his face and Rose bit down the stab of sympathy that swept over her. He had the worst case of acne she had seen outside a textbook. His face was covered with angry raised bumps and he looked utterly miserable. Underneath the bad skin, Rose could see that he could be a good-looki
ng boy, if it weren’t for the surly expression and terrible acne. It brought back memories of her own teenage years, when she had felt as self-conscious with her height as this boy clearly did with his skin.

  She smiled at the boy, knowing how embarrassed he would be feeling.

  ‘You must be Richard Pearson,’ she said. ‘If you want to take a seat with your mother, I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.’

  All Rose got in reply was a grunt. Nevertheless he sat down, dipping his head so his hair covered his face.

  His mother looked at him with a mixture of frustration and love. ‘I apologise for my son’s rudeness,’ she said. ‘He didn’t want to come.’ She turned her back to her son, leaned across the desk and continued, her voice lowered to a whisper, ‘I’m at my wits’ end. He’s refusing to go to school now. He just sits in his room, playing on his computer. I’ve tried other doctors. Dr Cavendish is my last hope. I heard from a friend that he helped her daughter.’ She glanced behind her again. Richard was engrossed with his mobile; either playing a game or texting.

  ‘I’m sure Dr Cavendish will do everything he can. I’ll just let him know you’re here.’ Rose certainly hoped he could help. Nothing so far had given her any confidence in his medical ability. Oh, he was certainly charming. The way he had been with Lady Hilton had made that evident, but no amount of charm was going to help this poor unhappy boy. At the very least surely he would refer him to a dermatologist?

  She buzzed through. ‘I have Richard Pearson to see you,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll be right out.’ He really did have a lovely voice. Deep with just a hint of a Scottish accent.

  As before, he was out of his room almost before she had a chance to put the phone down. He went over to the boy and held out his hand. ‘I’m Dr Cavendish. But you can call me Jonathan, if you like. Why don’t you come into my room and we can have a chat?’

  Richard reluctantly got to his feet, and scowled at his mother.