The Secret Within: A totally gripping psychological thriller with a jaw-dropping twist

by Lucy Dawson

  It was torture being in such close proximity, glancing across from time to time to see her frowning in concentration at her screen when we were in the office together. Even worse, were the evenings when she’d appear on the doorstep of my house, having come to collect Cass from ours because the children had started hanging out together. It took every ounce of my self-control to simply smile at her, shout for her daughter and not blurt something like, ‘I’m so sorry that I screwed everything up. Can you give me a second chance to prove that I’m not the man you think I am, but someone who loves you?’ Instead, we would stand there in silence, waiting.

  October became November. I dreamt about her regularly. I hadn’t had sex with Storm since just before the rugby weekend – although that wasn’t unusual for us. I told Stef that Storm was becoming suspicious, so we needed to take a break. As the weeks passed, increasingly frustrated, I drifted back to watching some of my old patient films late at night on my own, just as a physical release. My legs were crisscrossed with cuts, admittedly, but I didn’t sleep with anyone. I was waiting for her.

  November turned into December and I was almost at breaking point. Unusually for the milder South West, the temperature plummeted and there was the feel of snow in the air. Confused, everyone became festive slightly too early – yet I was only aware of the year madly slipping away with no apparent progress, no nearer to Julia realising that she loved me too. My desperation ramped up sharply, despite Hamish’s continued assurances that all would be well.

  ‘The point is, something’s got to give,’ I said to him, nursing a drink in the nook of a quiet little backwater pub we regularly slipped away to when we needed a moment of decompression after particularly draining operations. I stared at the rows of different whisky bottles lined up on the shelves above the landlord, their reflections gleaming on his shiny head and the polished mahogany bar. ‘I’m starting to go crazy. I’ve put the time in; she can’t argue we’ve only just met anymore, can she?’

  ‘No, she can’t. I’m hungry.’ Hamish rubbed his stomach. ‘I want another of those cakes that Michelle brought in. They were very good. Did you know she made them herself? Talented girl.’

  ‘I didn’t have one. They looked like a diabetic coma waiting to happen.’ I bit the quick of my nail. ‘I just need something to break the impasse with Julia.’

  ‘You missed out. They were delicious.’ Hamish downed his drink and stood up. ‘Right, well this was fun, but I’d better get off.’

  ‘Hang on! I’ve just had an idea!’ I put a hand out.

  He sat back down again with a sigh.

  ‘That big two-consultant op you’re doing with Julia on Tuesday…’

  Hamish folded his arms warily. ‘What about it?’

  ‘Suppose I did it with her instead? Can you call in sick?’

  Hamish closed his eyes. ‘You did not just ask me to do that. And you didn’t just come up with it on the spot either.’

  ‘Ham, please!’ I begged. ‘I’m the only other person with the right skill-set to step in for you. It’ll give me the opportunity to show her I’m not a total twat, and she’ll be forced to be in my company for a good six hours. Please?’

  Hamish opened his eyes again. ‘You were supposed to get bored of this and move on. She’s not going to change her mind, Nate. I think you have to let this one go. Give up the fight.’

  ‘I can’t.’ I picked up my drink and drained it. ‘If I could, I would. Please, Hamish. I really need you to do this for me.’

  He looked at me, then shook his head and glanced away. ‘Fine – but this is only going to happen once. Don’t ask me again.’

  ‘Thank you!’ The relief was enormous. ‘I only need this one chance. Can you take the Wednesday off too? If it’s two days, it’ll make it look more authentic?’

  He let his head drop. ‘Nate! I’ve got a full clinic on Wednesday! People who actually need help.’

  ‘Julia could cover that for you; I already checked. No one is going to miss out or suffer. They’ll do better actually, they’ll get her not you!’ I joked, but he didn’t smile.

  ‘You’ve got it all planned out, haven’t you? I thought you’d decided to play things with a straight bat?’ He stood up.

  I was bewildered. ‘I am? I’m not doing anything wrong?’

  ‘No. You never are, Nate.’ He picked his keys up from the table, turned away from me and, to my surprise, left without saying goodbye.

  Nineteen

  Julia

  I was pretty stressed but determined to keep it to myself and not panic the team. A surgical procedure lasting six hours and counting is a long time for anyone, and I’d hit a slight snag with the massive procedure we’d undertaken: removing both of the patient’s breasts and constructing new ones from flaps of fat taken from her abdomen.

  ‘It’ll be OK, won’t it?’ Kerry had said to me beforehand. ‘I’m just worried about how I’m going to look, which is just me feeling sorry for myself, I know, but I can’t help it.’

  ‘You’re not feeling sorry for yourself at all. Having your breasts removed is a major decision, but they’re going to look great,’ I’d reassured her.

  ‘And hey – I get a free tummy tuck!’ She’d tried to smile. She knew that I wasn’t able to offer her a guarantee that it would work. We’d been through the pros and cons at length and decided using her own fat was a better option for her than implants; it would feel more like her because it was her.

  Nathan – Hamish had been taken ill at the last moment – had worked painstakingly to assist me with sweep after sweep of his blade, to take out every single bit of breast tissue he possibly could, to prevent the cancer from returning. I’d been far from thrilled to discover he would be stepping in, but for this type of complex procedure, a two-consultant team gave the best patient outcome, and Kerry was all that mattered. After Mrs Dowden, I’d watched him carefully, but I couldn’t fault his work, even if I was uncomfortable on a personal level to be operating with him.

  Once Nathan had finished, we’d weighed the removed breasts to see how much fat we were going to need from Kerry’s stomach. As soon as we’d cut the two right-sized flaps from her abdomen to put into the cavities Nathan had created, it was a race to get the blood vessels connected to the ones in Kerry’s armpits, to reinstate a blood supply. We couldn’t insert them under the skin otherwise, and I was having a slight issue with my plumbing. Some blood vessels are better than others – although still only three millimetres wide – and these weren’t quite as good as they could be, more fragile than I’d have liked.

  ‘Nearly done.’ I was still working on my tiny sutures. Nathan had already joined the left artery and vein: the flap was on, it was my right side that wasn’t playing ball. I needed to work fast but with control; one simple mistake… ‘Bit messy, but we’re getting there.’

  Finally, to my huge relief I got the right side connected and the blood was flowing well. All that was left was to insert the flaps under the skin and shape them to form the breasts. We trimmed the excess tissue carefully to get the contours and symmetry right for Kerry, so that she would feel really confident afterwards. Once we’d finished I was very happy with all we’d achieved.

  As we scrubbed out, Nathan turned to me. ‘That was an excellent result, Julia. She’ll have no idea what she’s been through and hopefully, with only the areola reconstruction remaining, it won’t be much longer before she’ll be able to get on with the rest of her life.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘And for stepping in, too.’

  He’d surprised me. I’d expected him to use it as an opportunity to show me how shit hot he was, given it was our first big procedure together, especially when things had started to get a bit sticky for me. I couldn’t have been more wrong. He’d been calm and patient, not attempted to take over or say anything patronising, just been a reassuring presence.

  ‘You’re very welcome. Want to come and grab a coffee?’

  ‘I can’t, I’m afraid. I was supposed to meet someo
ne ten minutes ago.’ I hesitated. ‘But another time. Thanks again.’

  I legged it off to meet Eleni’s possible replacement – a female surgeon considering moving to the area with her young daughter from London. She’d emailed me to ask if I might have an informal meeting with her, and I’d readily agreed.

  ‘Given twelve per cent of all consultant surgeons across all specialties are female, if you join the plastics team here, you’ll singlehandedly put us ahead of that shocking statistic, because there’ll be two of us!’ I smiled at her on the other side of the same coffee shop table I’d sat at for my interview with Tan and Hamish, almost six months ago.

  ‘That’s great!’ She’d given me a tired smile in return and set her tea down carefully.

  ‘Julia, I read about what happened to you at the Royal Grace, what you went through. Can I lay my cards on the table? I know this is informal, but is it OK to be really informal? Off the record?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘How alpha is the rest of department here? I just want to be able to do my job. If their priorities are all knife before wife, I can’t do it. I’m not fighting that macho shouty crap again, day in day out – or taking another post where I get constantly bitch-slapped by a bunch of bonkers old men for wanting to occasionally pick my daughter up from school. If that makes my priorities “all wrong”, they can find something more manly to shove up their vacancy.’

  I smiled. ‘I hear you. It’s not full silverback. There are some genuinely nice younger surgeons here, but on the whole there’s a way to go yet.’

  ‘And from a letchy point of view?’ she continued. ‘In my current place on my second day, one of my colleagues told me he wanted to make it absolutely clear that if I felt him touch my arse, it was because he meant to. Where does this place fit on that scale? Is there any sex harassment stuff I need to know about? Anyone suspended, about to be or ought to be?’

  I hesitated, thinking of Nathan trying to kiss me, but that had been two months ago. Earlier, he’d been completely professional and polite. We’d moved on, got past it. ‘There are a few on their second wife who they “met at work”, but then I’m on my second husband, so…’ I shrugged and smiled ruefully.

  Holly flushed. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.’

  ‘It’s OK, you haven’t. My first marriage ending had nothing to do with my job. As far as attitudes in general here go, have I stood alongside a handsome junior doctor and had the patients direct their questions to him rather than me? Yes, I have. If we keep working to change that, will it? I think so. I hope you come here.’ I meant that. I sensed a potential friend.

  She looked relieved. ‘Thanks. Roll on the day when we don’t have to have these conversations, hey?’

  I was still thinking about Holly the following morning as I made my way to cover Hamish’s clinic because he was off sick for a second day. How were we supposed to attract more women to a career in surgery, when women as qualified and able as Holly were still having such an appalling time at the coal face? All she wanted to do was her job. It wasn’t exactly much to ask.

  My first patient was an anxious twenty-five-year-old woman sitting in a hospital gown on the edge of her chair, waiting for me, when I knocked and entered the consulting room. She told me she’d had a bit of a problem with some private surgery, performed locally. A breast augmentation five months previously for cosmetic reasons had ‘gone wrong’.

  ‘I was pleased at first, although they were bigger than I thought they were going to be.’ She spoke fast and was obviously nervous. ‘The surgeon said there would be swelling that could take a while to go down. I waited but it didn’t. They started getting tighter and hard and really painful. Now they feel like two balls stuck to my chest, and they hurt all the time.

  ‘I didn’t want to go back to him, so I went to see my doctor and she referred me to see you. I wish I’d never had it done in the first place.’ Her voice trembled as she clutched the front of her gown together. None of the patients were ever sure if they were supposed to do them up with the opening at the front or the back.

  I looked at her notes. Nathan had performed her surgery. I frowned. ‘OK, do you mind if I examine you now?’ I gestured to the hospital examination couch.

  She stood up and glanced at the un-curtained window, apprehensively.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I assured her, pointing to the sign attached to the window. ‘This is glass that we can see out of, but people outside can’t see in through, unless the lights are on, and they’re not. Only Kay and I can see you.’ I nodded at the nurse alongside me and turned away to wash my hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said conversationally, ‘my hands are a little cold. I’ll try and warm them up as much as I can. OK, can you just open the front of your gown? Thank you.’

  I wasn’t surprised the poor girl was in pain. Her breasts were grossly deformed. Her description of two balls stuck to her front was very accurate. What on earth had Nathan been thinking? Even without the obvious encapsulation, the implants were much too big for her tiny frame.

  ‘These were definitely the size of implants you asked for?’ I double-checked.

  ‘I’m not sure?’ she said. ‘I think so? We looked at a few options but he told me it was best to let him pick the implant profile?’

  ‘OK.’ I decided not to comment on that any further. ‘Is it all right to put my hands on you now?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I’m just going to check your neck too, as well as the right and left breast.’ I began to palpate the tissue, and as was often the case when a patient was embarrassed, she started to talk.

  ‘It’s really funny, that glass,’ she said desperately. ‘I can see people getting in and out of cars and they can’t see me! Ow!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said quickly. ‘They can’t see you, I promise. Can you put your hand behind your head there for a moment? I’m just going to push my finger briefly in your armpit too.’

  ‘How come you don’t have to have cameras in here, though?’ she said, nodding at the ceiling and the corner of the room.

  ‘Cameras? Can we swap arms now? Thank you.’

  ‘Yeah.’ She looked at me innocently. ‘At the private clinic, he had cameras in the corner of the room.’

  My hands momentarily slowed. ‘In the waiting room?’

  ‘Yes, and in the room where he examined me.’

  I glanced up at Kay who widened her eyes.

  I finished my examination in silence and stood back. ‘If you’d like to close the gown again, thank you. He had cameras in the room where you were undressing, and he examined you like I just did?’

  ‘Yes.’ She started to look worried. ‘That’s OK, isn’t it?’

  ‘I think it’s unusual.’ I picked my words very, very carefully. ‘You can sit up now. Did you ask what they were for?’

  ‘Yeah. He said for legal reasons, he had to have a record of what we’d said in the consultation but that no images would be shared – like before and after photos – without my consent.’ She spoke more confidently now.

  ‘OK.’ I tried to keep my tone even. ‘Had he mentioned these cameras before you spotted them?’

  She considered that. ‘No – he didn’t, actually.’

  Whoa… I smiled at her. ‘So tell me why you didn’t want to go back to him when these problems started occurring? I’m not saying we won’t help you, by the way – we will. I’m just interested to know why you didn’t want him to deal with this?’

  She looked anxious again. ‘When I phoned him to say there was a problem, he wasn’t very friendly about me going back in. He made me feel like I was making a fuss over nothing, and he got a bit nasty to be honest. It really upset me, and the more upset I got, the more I felt like I didn’t want him operating on me again. I told a friend and she said I could just go to any doctor. It didn’t have to be him.’

  I smiled. ‘OK. Thank you. So here’s what we’re going to do to help you…’

  Once she’d left, I sat and s
tared out of the window. Nathan had cameras in his consulting rooms.

  I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone and did a quick search on his company name. He’d changed his website since I last looked and the home page was a picture of him smiling dashingly into the camera, dressed in a traditional white coat alongside a button entitled Ask Dr Sloan! I had a quick scroll around. It explained Nathan specialised in cosmetic breast surgery, including ‘uplifts, augmentations and reductions’, but offered a full range of aesthetic services. There were a lot of images of smiling women captioned ‘Dr Sloan’s patient’. They were all what I would call big-breasted and that would have set my alarm bells ringing right there. It was clear what his personal preference was, and how he liked to make women look. I could see nothing at all, however, which referred to any part of any consultation being filmed.

  Kay came back into the room uncertainly.

  ‘Could I ask you not to discuss what she just said with anyone?’

  ‘Yes!’ Kay looked hugely relieved. ‘I agree. I really don’t want to upset Mr Sloan, and she’s probably made a mistake anyway.’

  She’d misunderstood me. I’d been about to say I’d take it from here. ‘I expect you’re right. Hey, listen, can you give me two seconds before the next patient? I’ve got a quick phone call to make?’

  Kay nodded happily and left the room, closing the door behind her. I picked up my mobile again and selected the ‘contact us’ option. ‘Oh hello!’ I said brightly when the call was answered. ‘Is that Mr Sloan’s secretary? Great – could you buzz him for me and ask if he can do coffee after all? My name is Julia Blythe. I could come to him for about five thirty today? Thank you so much.’