Tempting Dr. Templeton

by Judy Campbell

  Rosie looked dazedly up at him. It was as if by thinking about him, the man had actually materialised!

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she managed to gasp.

  His eyes gleamed with amusement at her. ‘Following you! Now, tell me what your thoughts are regarding a nice relaxing evening out!’

  Any thoughts Rosie had at that particular moment were jumbled ones of Andy holding her very closely on a dark shore a few nights ago. She didn’t want to be reminded of that…

  She flicked a look round at the other people in the lift. Although Andy was keeping his voice fairly low, she could see interested faces towards her.

  ‘That would be very nice some time,’ she replied primly.

  He grinned down at her. ‘Come on, now,’ he urged.‘What kind of relationship are we going to have if we don’t get to know each other properly?’

  ‘We…we haven’t got a relationship,’ she muttered. ‘I told you—work before socialising!’

  ‘Ah, yes—what was it you said? “You can’t mix sex and business!” Was that it?’

  Rosie was acutely aware of every eye in the lift swivelling their way.

  ‘I meant it,’ she snapped.

  ‘Then what about a strictly platonic dinner tonight?’ he pressed on, unabashed.

  ‘I can’t—no babysitter!’ She wasn’t going to use Lily as a convenient backstop whenever she needed to go out.

  ‘Get one for tomorrow night, then!’

  The lift jolted to a halt and people began to file out, flicking fascinated glances at the two of them as they left. Rosie gave a sigh of relief and made to step towards the doors. Andy’s arm came in front of her and pressed the third-floor button. The doors closed and the lift started to move.

  ‘Do you mind?’ she protested. ‘I’ve got to pick Amy up soon…’

  ‘It’s difficult to get you by yourself,’ he explained gruffly as they sailed upwards, alone in the lift. ‘Surgery meetings don’t seem the right place to arrange dates, but I do feel that as we seemed to get off on rather a rocky footing the other day, we ought to put things right. I said some things I regretted very much, which I know hurt you—can’t we make a fresh start by having dinner together?’

  Rosie swallowed. Part of her longed to find out more about Andy in a quiet setting, but part of her was intensely apprehensive about starting anything again with this man!

  ‘I really don’t know,’ she said stiffly. ‘Now, would you mind taking this lift to the ground floor and letting me out? I’m wasting time.’

  ‘Wait a minute, Rosie.’ His finger pressed the ‘stop’ button and the lift halted suddenly between floors, making Rosie stumble against him. His hand went round her waist to steady her, and that familiar panicky feeling of desire and need flooded through her at his electric touch.

  ‘Start this lift immediately. You’re…you’re harassing me!’ she said bitingly, trying to ignore the delicious sense of danger that fluttered through her body.

  ‘Calm down! I only want to extract a promise from you before you rush off.’

  ‘Get this lift moving, or I’ll press the alarm bell!’

  His head bent towards hers, those magnetic blue eyes holding her gaze, his mobile lips just a breath away from hers, and her heart clattered against her ribs at his proximity. ‘Then say you’ll come to dinner with me on Friday—you’ll be able to get a babysitter by then surely.’

  He was frighteningly persuasive, his deep voice sounding ultra-reasonable. ‘We have to build bridges, Rosie, if we’re to work together. We can’t be as close as we were the other night and forget all about it—even if you do want us just to “be friends”, as you put it.’

  Perhaps he was right. After all, having a meal didn’t mean a repeat of the night of the conference and they were colleagues, all of them contributing to the running of the practice. It didn’t make sense to be too distant.She bit her lip, frightened yet excited by what Andy might do next if she refused to go out with him.

  Reluctantly she nodded her head. ‘You’re nothing but a bully but, yes, all right, I will go out for a quick meal. And now take this darn thing down to the ground floor!’

  As soon as the doors opened she marched out, feeling a mixture of annoyance and amusement. The cheek of it! Then she gave a gurgle of laughter. How could he choose a crowded lift to make a date with her? She took a deep breath of fresh air as she left the store and waited to cross the road. She wasn’t being honest with herself, she thought wryly. Of course she wanted to go out with the man—every fibre of her longed to be close to him again, and to find out more about him.

  ‘A friendly supper, nothing more,’ she muttered to herself.

  Friday was a mad day, starting with a hysterical mother convinced that her child had meningitis, interspersed with people asking for sick notes who weren’t sick and genuinely ill people who needed specialist help. Rosie took a long sip of scalding coffee in the office and leant her head for a second against the glass partition. The day was going far too fast, roaring inexorably towards her date with Andy!

  Why on earth had she agreed to this idiotic meal with him? It wasn’t necessary—she didn’t want or need to know anything more about the man, she said firmly to herself. She would make it a very short encounter and stick to very safe subjects—like the weather and work!

  ‘Looking forward to tonight, Rosie. I’ve chosen quite a good place, I think!’ Andy strode through Reception with a sheaf of papers in his hand, a picture of vitality. ‘I’ll pick you up about seven-thirty—wrap up well in waterproof clothing!’

  Rosie jumped slightly. ‘Waterproof what?’

  But Andy had swept out, tossing a bundle of papers in Maria’s out-tray, leaving an impression of energy and…excitement? Rosie looked after him, anxiety and anticipation churning round in her stomach.

  ‘I should never have agreed to it!’ she repeated to herself.

  Maria came into the office, looking apologetic. ‘I know you’ve had a long list, but would you see Arabelle Carter? She’s just come in and seems really agitated. Won’t give me a clue as to what’s wrong—just begs to be seen as soon as possible.’

  Rosie sighed and looked pointedly at her watch. ‘Oh, Lord—I’m brain-dead, Maria, but perhaps I’ve enough energy to see someone who’s going to throw a wobbly!’

  Maria went out of the room to tell the patient, and Rosie went into her room and brought up the woman’s notes on the screen. Talk about excited and nervy—that was just how she felt! Perhaps, she thought wryly, she and Mrs Carter could exchange symptoms.

  She peered forward and looked at Arabelle Carter’s history. She was a woman of thirty-six who rarely used the practice—the last time had been about two years ago after some spotting between her periods caused by a small polyp which she’d had removed.

  Rosie pressed the button on her desk that lit up the electronic sign in the surgery for the next patient, and in a few seconds the woman walked in.

  Arabelle Carter was thin and tall, with mousy hair drawn back in a ponytail and large glasses—she had a rather studious, earnest look. She was elegantly and expensively dressed in a beautifully cut tan trouser suit, with gold chains round her neck and one wrist, but there was an air of vulnerability about her.

  She sat bolt upright on the chair in front of Rosie’s desk, clasping her hands tightly together. Her cheeks looked flushed and her eyes were wide and excited.

  ‘Thank you so much for seeing me, Dr Loveday,’ she started. ‘I…I wouldn’t have bothered you, but I’m so confused—I just don’t know what to think! I should have made an appointment, but my husband’s taking me away unexpectedly tomorrow, and I just couldn’t wait until we got back—I’d go mad!’

  ‘Well, perhaps you can tell me what’s confusing you,’ said Rosie.

  ‘I think…I hope…I’m pregnant,’ Arabelle began haltingly. ‘You see, I’ve been married six years and I’ve wanted a baby for so long—but nothing happened. I was getting desperate.’

  ‘But you n
ever sought medical help?’

  Arabelle looked down at her hands, twisting them nervously in her lap. ‘Justin—that’s my husband—he doesn’t really want any more children. He has two teenagers by his first marriage and he says he’s done his bit!’ The girl gave a faint laugh. ‘He’s quite a lot older than me, and can’t bear the thought of nappies and teenage years again, I suppose!’

  ‘But now you think you’re pregnant—have you done a test?’

  Arabelle was silent for a second. ‘I daren’t,’ she whispered. ‘Justin thinks I’m on the Pill, but I came off it two years ago. If I am pregnant he’ll know I’ve deceived him, and if I’m not I’ll be devastated!’ There was a pause and then she added rather fiercely, ‘But I know I am!’

  ‘Have your periods stopped?’

  ‘Since I stopped taking the Pill they’ve always been very scanty. It’s just that I’m absolutely huge! I can feel the baby there—really big and round. Nothing fits and I have to keep dashing to the loo!’

  ‘I’d like to do a pregnancy test, Mrs Carter, and then give you a quick examination. I shall do a test on your urine and we should have the result pretty soon after I’ve felt your tummy. I don’t tend to do internal pelvic examinations at an early stage of pregnancy.’

  Rosie palpated the woman’s stomach. The bump in Arabelle Carter’s uterus was easy to feel, but it didn’t feel quite like a growing foetus—it was a hard, unmalleable mass. When she’d finished she was almost sure that the reason for her patient’s enlarged uterus wasn’t pregnancy.

  ‘Have you felt sick at all?’ she asked Arabelle. The woman shook her head.

  ‘No—nothing like that. I’ve always had a good appetite. Perhaps I’m a bit tired.’

  ‘While you get dressed again, I’ll just see what result the pregnancy test kit gives.’

  Rosie dipped the indicator stick in the test tube containing the urine and test solution, then held the stick up. As she’d suspected, there was no change in colour on the indicator strips. She turned to the young woman now sitting in the chair by her desk.

  ‘Mrs Carter…’ she said gently.

  ‘Oh, please, call me Arabelle,’ said the woman eagerly. ‘It seems less formal somehow.’

  ‘Arabelle, then.’ Rosie sighed inwardly. It was hard giving bad news to patients but there was no getting away from it. ‘From my examination of you and the results of the test kit, it doesn’t look as if you are pregnant.’

  Arabelle stared at her in shocked astonishment. ‘But…but, Dr Loveday, I must be! Even I can feel the bump! Sometimes those kits aren’t accurate—you can’t rely on them!’

  Rosie looked at her sympathetically. ‘That’s true—they say a negative result is about eighty per cent accurate—but I’m going on more physical evidence than that, and from feeling your tummy and the unyielding feel of the mass there I’d say that you’re probably suffering from fibroids.’

  ‘What do you mean? What are they?’

  ‘Well, they consist of bundles of muscles which form a benign tumour—that is, not cancerous. But they can get pretty big and distort the uterus. Sometimes they cause heavy periods—unusually not in your case evidently—but they may press on your bladder and they can cause back pain. They can also prevent pregnancy or cause miscarriages.’

  ‘So what can be done?’ Arabelle looked scared, her eyes large and frightened behind her studious-looking glasses.

  ‘To confirm my diagnosis I’ll send you for an ultrasound scan—and if I’m correct a gynaecologist will assess whether you should have an operation to remove them.’

  There was a short silence, then Arabelle gave a choking cry and looked at Rosie with tear-filled eyes. ‘I…I won’t have to have to have a hysterectomy, will I? I couldn’t bear that! There’d be no hope then!’ She bit her lip and passed a hand over her forehead. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘It’s hard to come to terms with this.’

  Rosie got up and patted her comfortingly on the shoulder. ‘I know it’s a shock to come in thinking you might be pregnant and then be told it’s something completely different, but if you do have to have an operation, it’s usually very successful—and it’s a last resort to have a hysterectomy. There are other techniques nowadays. Sometimes the fibroid can be shelled out from its capsule without damage to the uterus.’

  ‘Would it mean I could get pregnant then?’

  ‘You might have a better chance,’ said Rosie cautiously.

  Arabelle shook her head. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she whispered. ‘I was so sure…All the women my age seem to have children and I was beginning to feel left out.’ She smiled palely. ‘I feel as if I’m running out of time, and the longer I leave it, the less Justin will be able to accept it when I do get pregnant!’

  Rosie leant back against the desk and looked thoughtfully at Arabelle. ‘Don’t you think it would be wise to talk to your husband?’ she suggested. ‘Does he know how you feel—how much you’d like a child?’

  Arabelle shrugged rather hopelessly. ‘I have tried, but he’s very evasive on the subject. He’s quite a powerful character and very volatile—and he did tell me before we got married that he didn’t want to be a father again. I didn’t realise I’d start getting so broody, and I suppose I’m frightened of causing a row.’ She gave a shaky little laugh. ‘I’m afraid I do anything for a peaceful life! Not that it is all that peaceful,’ she sighed, and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  ‘Is there anything else you want to tell me?’ probed Rosie delicately, looking sharply at the bleak-looking girl before her. ‘Are things, er…all right between you and your husband otherwise?’

  Arabelle sniffed. ‘Oh, yes—I adore him. It’s his teenage children that can be a little difficult.’

  For ‘little difficult’ read ‘bloody impossible’, thought Rosie astutely. ‘They live with you, then?’

  The girl nodded and said sadly, ‘Most of the time they’re with us. I have tried hard to understand them, but they resent me very much. Justin doesn’t realise how difficult they can be with me—in front of him they’re fine!’

  Rosie looked at her sympathetically. ‘Looks like you’ll have to have a real heart-to-heart with your husband. You’ll tell him if you have to have an operation, I take it?’

  ‘Yes…yes, I’d have to do that, I suppose.’

  Arabelle got up from the chair, smoothing her jacket down and looking distracted. ‘Justin’s awfully busy—his work demands all his time so I try not to worry him with details.’

  ‘This is hardly a detail,’ commented Rosie gently. ‘I’m sure he’d want to know. I’ll write a letter to the consultant and you’ll get details of an appointment sent to you. I’d like to see you again when he gives his verdict. And, Arabelle, try not to worry. It may all turn out for the best—and perhaps on your holiday you can talk to your husband about your worries.’

  Rosie frowned to herself as she input Arabelle Carter’s notes into the computer. The Carters’ marriage seemed an odd relationship—it was almost as if Arabelle was frightened of her powerful husband, and that he was less than sensitive. Reading between the lines, it seemed that Arabelle Carter was being dominated on all sides—not least by two teenage stepchildren! She hoped the woman would get the support from her husband she needed over the next few weeks.

  She flicked a look at her watch and groaned. Nearly six o’clock! The hour and a half before Andy picked her up would have to go like oiled clockwork! Feed Amy, put her to bed, then a bath for herself and a search for something reasonable to wear. Rosie’s stomach did a somersault. She couldn’t deny she was excited—and apprehensive. ‘Just like a teenager on her first date,’ she muttered scornfully to herself as she drove away from the surgery.

  Amy was playing on the sitting-room floor surrounded by her noisiest toys—little trains that whistled and rang bells, boxes that made the sounds of animals when you pressed the right picture and a plastic telephone that emitted a shrill ringing tone. Lily was in the garden, watching her small ch
arge through the open window and drawing heavily on a cigarette.

  ‘Hello, darling!’ she called. ‘Sorry, I just had to have a smoke after the day I’ve had. That’s why I’m out here—so Amy won’t notice!’ She stubbed her cigarette out and flicked it into the flower-bed. Rosie smiled. It was difficult for Lily to change the habit of a lifetime, but at least she didn’t do it near Amy.

  ‘Why—has your day been so awful?’ she asked, gathering Amy up in her arms and kissing her soft cheek.

  Lily came in through the French windows and sighed. ‘The autumn collection has come in, but naturally with this boiling weather people are still looking for lightweight stuff. I’ve got a sale going on at one end of the shop and new things fighting for space at the other end. And, of course, I’m trying to get the fashion show under way. And wouldn’t you know it—two of the models I use are heavily pregnant, and the pianist I use for elegant background music is going on some tour!’

  ‘Very inconsiderate of them!’ Rosie laughed, taking Amy into the kitchen and putting her in her high chair. Lily’s fashion show was a major event every year, raising a huge amount for charity and demanding an immense amount of preparation. ‘You look tired, Lily. You have got something in for supper this evening—something nutritious?’

  Lily probably owed her reed-slim frame to a complete disinterest in food. ‘Yes, yes, darling,’ she said impatiently. ‘Don’t fuss! I think a quick gin and tonic might help at the moment!’

  She poured herself a generous glass and watched Rosie butter thin soldiers of bread for Amy and mash the contents of a boiled egg into a little dish. ‘What time are you off gallivanting with this young man?’ she enquired.

  ‘About seven-thirty—hardly gallivanting! It’s only a quick meal. He’s a locum and I’m going to answer any questions he might have about the practice. We’ve all been so busy that the evening seemed a good time to do it.’

  Rosie did her best to sound casual, as if the whole thing was rather a bore and not of much consequence, but she couldn’t help a self-conscious blush colour her cheeks.

  ‘And what are you going to wear?’ asked Lily with interest.