The Doctor's Love-Child

by Barbara Hart

  It was a month since the sports medicine conference and the paper that Andrew had presented had gone well. Many of the delegates had congratulated him on the work and Andrew, in turn, had introduced them to Helen as the joint author. She’d met so many of the top people in sports medicine and Orthopaedics at the conference that she’d almost been overwhelmed.

  In the weeks following the conference she hadn’t seen a lot of Andrew. He’d been away from New York on some days and extremely busy the rest of the time. When he’d suggested the game of tennis she’d been a little ambivalent about accepting. She was finding it very hard to come to terms with their relationship…if she could call it that. Sometimes it felt more like a non-relationship. Her feelings for him were growing stronger by the minute, but she was very unsure of how he felt about her. On the rare occasions they were alone together he appeared to find her attractive. She could tell by the way he touched her, the way he looked at her, the way he kissed her…but maybe that was just Andrew, maybe that was his way with every woman.

  After the game, which he just managed to win, they showered at the tennis club. When they’d changed into jeans and sweatshirts, Andrew made a suggestion.

  ‘We could leave our tennis gear here while we have a bite to eat. Shall we do that?’

  She hesitated. Was she letting herself in for a little more heartache by accepting? When she’d agreed to play tennis she’d told herself that it was purely for the exercise. She had no intention of letting him raise her hopes only for them to be dashed.

  ‘Are you working tonight?’ he asked when she didn’t answer immediately.

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not working.’ All her resolve melted. ‘Yes, let’s get a bite to eat.’

  ‘I know a great little Mexican place round the corner,’ he said, putting an arm round her and walking her out of the door. ‘Do you like fajitas?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. She could have added, I’d eat cardboard if it’s with you.

  Sitting opposite Andrew in the restaurant, Helen flicked a glance across at him as he studied the menu. Just what was it with this man? She’d known him for several weeks now and had discovered that he was kind, generous, good fun. But just what was his background, what made him tick? More importantly, why did she get the feeling he was holding back on her? She had to find out more about Andrew Henderson to dispel the image that had formed in her mind that he was man of mystery with secrets in his life. She went for the most obvious explanation of his attitude towards her.

  ‘Are you married or anything?’ she asked when they were at the coffee stage.

  He shook his head, grinning mischievously. ‘Not even “anything”. How about you?’

  ‘No.’

  They sat in silence for a minute or two before Helen could summon up enough courage to question him further.

  ‘Where in England do you come from?’

  ‘Norfolk,’ he replied.

  ‘I love Norfolk,’ Helen enthused. ‘My father used to take me sailing on the Broads when I was young. Do you still have family connections there?’

  He didn’t answer straight away, drinking his coffee slowly before replying. ‘I own a house in the small village where I grew up. It’s empty at the moment and I’m considering selling it.’

  Helen could sense that the light atmosphere between them had darkened.

  He continued. ‘Both my parents are dead. My mother most recently, about eighteen months ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Helen. ‘When did your father die?’

  ‘Many, many years ago,’ said Andrew looking into the distance as if remembering another lifetime.

  ‘You once told me that he was a doctor—or at least when I said that my late father had been a GP you seemed to imply a similar scenario.’

  He dipped his head in acknowledgement but said nothing.

  ‘I was only twelve when my father died,’ Helen said. ‘My mother married again. I get on really well with my stepfather.’ She wondered why she was vol unteering all this unasked-for information about herself when her sole intention in instigating the conversation was to find out more about Andrew. She asked him, ‘How old were you when your father died?’

  He paused before answering, as if he was calculating…as though this was something he hadn’t thought of in years. ‘About eighteen or nineteen. Something like that. The whole thing had gone on for so long that it’s hard to remember when he actually died. He’d been like a dead man for quite some time before his actual death.’

  ‘A long illness?’

  ‘No. Just a long and very messy confrontation.’

  Helen raised her eyebrows. ‘Did somebody hit him?’

  His voice took on a bitter tone. ‘Might just as well have done. That would have been a cleaner way of killing him. Instead of which, a female patient falsely accused him of sexual impropriety. He denied it, of course, and at a court hearing he was vindicated. But by then he was a broken man. He had a nervous breakdown with the strain and never practised medicine again. He was old before his time and just faded away. The death certificate said it was heart failure but as far as I’m concerned it was murder.’

  ‘How terrible,’ she whispered, reaching across the table and touching his hand. ‘That’s a tragic way to end a life. What happened to the woman who made the allegation?’

  ‘I have no idea. I just remember her face when my father was pronounced not guilty. She laughed and shrugged her shoulders. No doubt she moved to an other town and tried the same trick on some other innocent GP.’

  ‘I wonder what her motive was in doing that to your father? What could she possibly hope to have gained?’

  ‘Money. She was trying to blackmail him. Pay up or I’ll say we’re having an affair.’

  He turned her hand round, enfolding it in his. ‘It’s not a time of my life I care to remember, so let’s talk about something more cheerful. There’s another sports medicine conference on the horizon. In June, in Seattle.’

  ‘Seattle. That’s nice. Actually,’ she admitted, ‘I’m not even sure where that is. Is it near Los Angeles or over there somewhere?’

  He smiled a slow smile as he could see her struggling mentally with the geography of the United States.

  ‘Yes, Helen, it’s “over there somewhere”. On the west coast but much more north than LA. Close to the Canadian border.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ she mused. ‘That’s a long way to go for a day’s conference.’

  ‘It takes place over a weekend,’ he explained. ‘I was wondering if you would come and present “our” paper with me?’

  Helen stared at him. ‘Oh, wow!’ She thought for a moment. ‘Do you think I could? I mean, what about the professor? Do you suppose he’d mind me taking time off from my work at the Institute? It was only one day for the New York conference, but Seattle…’

  Andrew laughed. ‘You make it sound as if it’s on another planet! It’s a conference. You wouldn’t miss much time at the Institute.’

  As they stepped out of the restaurant a little later, Andrew’s mobile phone rang.

  ‘Sorry about this,’ he apologised to Helen as he answered the call.

  They continued walking along the street as Andrew had a short conversation with his caller. He switched off the phone and replaced it in the pocket of his jeans.

  ‘That was good news,’ he said, taking hold of her hand as they made their way towards the building that housed the tennis club. ‘You remember Delroy’s mother?’

  ‘The poor woman who needs a hip replacement?’

  ‘That was the hospital. They’re fitting her in as an emergency and she’ll be first on my list tomorrow morning.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news!’ exclaimed Helen. ‘How did you manage that?’

  ‘Better not to ask,’ he said, putting a finger to his lips.

  ‘I bet you pulled a few strings, didn’t you?’

  ‘The woman is in genuine medical need of the operation. That’s all anybody needs to know.’

  Th
ey strolled along in the warm summer air, holding hands. She felt calm and happy…he had that effect on her.

  ‘When your six months’ research is up, are you planning on staying?’ he asked out of the blue.

  The question made her stomach bunch into a tight knot. He wanted to know about her plans for the future. Could that mean he was interested in whether or not she stayed in America? It was something she had been considering quite seriously and had discussed the possibilities with Jane on several occasions.

  ‘I think I might,’ she told him cautiously. ‘In the short term, anyway. There are a lot of American-based jobs in sports medicine advertised in the medical journals. Many more than in the UK. It could be a good career move to work here for a year or so.’

  Andrew squeezed her hand but made no comment.

  ‘What do you think?’ she probed. ‘Do you think I should stay?’

  ‘It’s entirely up to you,’ he said, ‘but, like you, I believe it would be good for your career. Of course, with a medical background like yours you have a very promising future wherever you choose to work.’

  She was stung by his reply. Stung and disappointed. She’d been hoping that his motive in asking her whether she was staying in the US had been to establish whether or not she could be around for him on a personal level but all he’d done had been to focus on her medical career. Well, she mustn’t read too much into it—at least he’d asked her to go along with him to the Seattle conference. A weekend away with him might be just the thing to kick-start a romance.

  As they walked up the steps of the tennis club they were confronted by three people, two men and a woman, in their tennis clothes. Andrew recognised one of the men, a New York lawyer with whom he’d played the occasional game.

  ‘Andrew!’ said the lawyer, ‘thank heavens you’re here. The doorman said you’d be coming back to collect your things—’

  ‘Tim!’ interrupted the other man. ‘Tell him about Mary, for heavens’ sake!’

  ‘I’m getting there,’ said Tim, who was obviously doing things in his own time. ‘It’s Mary, my wife. She did something to her wrist while we were having a game. She didn’t fall over or anything—she just hit the ball very gently, as far as I could see, and then she screamed out in agony…’

  ‘Where is she now?’ Andrew asked.

  ‘In the locker room,’ said the woman who was with them.

  Helen and Andrew followed the three tennis-club members into the locker room where a woman, pale-faced with pain, was sitting stiffly upright in a cane chair holding her right arm against her chest. The other woman went over to her and said soothingly, ‘There’s a doctor here, Mary. Tim knows him.’

  ‘There are two doctors here, actually,’ said Andrew, going over to the patient. ‘My colleague, Dr Blackburn, is also a medic.’

  He bent down next to the woman who appeared to be in great pain. ‘Tell me what happened,’ he said gently.

  ‘That’s just it,’ she said, still clutching her right arm. ‘I have no idea what happened. We were playing tennis, just a slow knock-up because I haven’t played for some time. I hit the ball over the net and at that same moment I heard this sickening crack…or maybe I just felt it go crack, I’m not sure. But I think I’ve broken my wrist. Sounds impossible, I know, from such a little thing.’

  ‘Are you in a lot of pain?’ Andrew asked, checking that she wasn’t bleeding from the injury.

  ‘It’s not too bad now,’ she replied, ‘not as painful as when it happened. But I wouldn’t mind having a painkiller…Tim was going to get me some ibuprofen from the drugstore down the street.’

  ‘It’s better if you take nothing orally for now,’ said Andrew, ‘in case you need a general anaesthetic to reset the bone.’

  As he was talking he was making a tentative examination of Mary’s arm and wrist, moving the injured area as little as possible but noting that her hand was fixed at an unnatural angle and that the area around the suspected fracture was swollen and red. He turned to Helen, who was standing beside him. ‘Colles’ fracture. Do you agree?’

  ‘It certainly seems the most likely diagnosis,’ she confirmed, ‘from the way the wrist has been pushed back over the broken bone.’

  Helen spoke to Mary. ‘Are you sure you didn’t also fall over and put your hand out to save yourself? That’s the most usual way of doing something like this to your wrist.’

  ‘I didn’t fall,’ said Mary. ‘That’s what’s so puzzling. I wouldn’t have been too surprised if I’d been an old lady with osteoporosis, but I’m only in my thirties! Ouch!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s agony when I move it!’

  ‘What we need to do, Mary,’ said Andrew, ‘is to immobilise the whole arm until we get you to hospital. That will reduce the pain and prevent further injury. Now, what can we use for a splint?’ he said, casting his eyes hopefully around the locker room.

  Helen searched the room and found some thick pieces of cardboard stacked in one corner. ‘Here’s some discarded packaging from a pair of tennis shoes,’ she said. ‘It’s nice and clean.’

  ‘That’ll do fine,’ said Andrew, who was at that moment raiding the first-aid cabinet. He pulled out packages of cotton wool, gauze dressing and rolled bandages. Working together, he and Helen placed the cardboard splint, padded with the cotton wool and gauze bandages, under the injured lower arm. They held the improvised splint in place with more gauze bandages, checking Mary’s pulse and temperature to ensure that the splint hadn’t been applied too tightly.

  They made a sling from a large square of blue fabric that Tim mysteriously produced.

  ‘That looks familiar,’ said his tennis companion.

  ‘It’s from one of the tables in the club dining room,’ replied Tim matter-of-factly.

  Mary, even though she was still in some pain, gasped at his audacity. ‘You mean you tore up one of those damask tablecloths to make a sling for me? What will the club secretary say?’

  Tim was unrepentant. ‘The massive subs I pay to this club entitle me to rip up the occasional tablecloth from time to time. It’s not the Turin shroud, for Pete’s sake!’

  That made Mary laugh for the first time since the accident.

  ‘You’re obviously feeling a little better,’ said Andrew. ‘Is the pain subsiding?’

  ‘Much better,’ she replied. ‘Just taking the weight off it seems to have helped enormously…and keeping it immobilised like this.’

  ‘Good,’ said Andrew. ‘We’ll get you to hospital now. Can Tim drive you there or should we call a taxi?’

  ‘I’ll drive,’ said her husband. ‘My car’s parked in the basement.’

  ‘Here’s the address for City Hospital,’ said Andrew, scribbling it down on a piece of scrap paper. ‘I’ll phone my colleague in Orthopaedics and tell him to expect you.’ He turned to Helen. ‘Is Jane on duty today?’ Helen confirmed that she was. ‘Excellent. We’ll also put a call through to Dr Jane Howorth in the ER.’

  ‘What will they do, do you think?’ Mary asked.

  ‘Before attempting to reset it, they’ll obviously need X-rays to get a clear picture of the type of fracture and the degree of displacement, then the setting will most likely be done under an anaesthetic. At some point they may want to do a bone scan to check whether the fracture is pathological due to osteoporosis.’

  ‘You gotta be kidding!’ exclaimed Mary. ‘I’m thirty-eight, not eighty-three! I’m way too young for all that fragile bones stuff.’ She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. ‘Aren’t I?’

  ‘I would have thought so,’ confirmed Andrew. ‘But it’s a possibility. It’s quite rare and unusual, but younger people, some very young, can also suffer from osteoporosis. In all likelihood you won’t have it—the bone scan is just to rule that out.’

  When Tim and Mary were safely on their way to the hospital and Andrew and Helen had picked up their sports bags ready to make their way home, Andrew touched her lightly on the arm.

  ‘So, are you coming with me? I’d like to know so I can mak
e plans.’

  ‘Where to?’ Helen asked, genuinely puzzled.

  ‘Seattle—to the conference. Are you game for it?’ He slipped his arm round her and nuzzled his face against hers, whispering in her ear, ‘You won’t regret it, I promise you.’ Her heart began to race out of control before he added, ‘It will look terrific on your CV.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘HI, MUM, it’s me. I’m phoning from Seattle.’

  ‘Helen! How lovely to hear from you.’ Her mother’s voice was husky.

  ‘Are you all right, Mum? You sound a little groggy.’

  ‘So would you if you’d been phoned in the middle of the night!’

  Helen gave a short gasp. ‘I’d forgotten about the extra time difference. I was working it out on a New York time scale. Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise, love. I wouldn’t miss one of your phone calls for all the world.’ Her voice now sounded more awake and normal. ‘So tell me about Seattle. Is the conference going well?’

  ‘Fantastic,’ enthused Helen. ‘Both Seattle and the conference. I’m looking out of my hotel window across the Puget Sound and to the islands in the bay…it’s just so beautiful. You’d love it. I’ll treat you to a trip over here one day. One day when I’m working and earning decent money in sports medicine. And that shouldn’t be too far off. I’ve made some marvellous contacts here at the conference. I’ve even had a couple of job offers, which I’m seriously considering.’

  There was a pause. A silence from the other end of the line.

  ‘Are you still there, Mum?’

  ‘Yes, love. That’s really great news. About the job offers.’

  Helen sensed a tension, an anxiety in her mother’s voice.

  ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asked. ‘You don’t mind me working in America for a little while? I know I haven’t mentioned it before, but I wasn’t sure whether I’d actually be able to get work over here, even though Andrew assured me that I would.’

  ‘Andrew?’

  ‘I told you about Andrew, didn’t I? The orthopaedic surgeon who asked me to assist at one of his knee operations, the person I’m presenting the paper with at the conference.’