Rivals In Practice. Alison Roberts

She glanced over her shoulder at Andrew. ‘Ruby came in as well. She’s making sandwiches for everybody. Are you hungry?’

      ‘No. Have you finished with my leg?’

      ‘I just need to put a dressing on it.’ Jennifer abandoned her search for the thermometer. She picked up a sterile pad and a crêpe bandage instead. The knock at the door of the consulting room halted her return to Andrew’s side.

      ‘Hi, Tom. Come in. I’m nearly finished here.’

      Tom nodded at Andrew. ‘I just dropped by to let Mr Stephenson here know that his camper van’s been delivered to your place.’

      ‘Thanks, Tom. How are things looking out there?’

      ‘We’re over the worst. The weather’s starting to clear and there’s been no more accidents reported. The kids are all fine, by the way. Saskia wanted to know when you’ll get home.’

      ‘Not for a while yet, I’m afraid.’

      Tom nodded again. ‘I’ll let her know. Is there anything you need here?’

      ‘We’re fine,’ Jennifer told the police officer. ‘Thanks to Andrew here, we’ve managed to cope with a fairly large crisis.’

      ‘So I heard.’ The glance Andrew received was one of respect. ‘John Bellamy’s here. Margaret’s taken him in to sit with Liam. He’d like a word.’

      ‘Of course. Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.’ Jennifer turned quickly back to Andrew as Tom left the room. She peeled the backing off the clear, sticky dressing. Now it was Andrew’s turn to stare at Jennifer.

      ‘Kids?’ he queried softly. ‘How many have you got?’

      Jennifer was beginning to wind the crêpe bandage around his leg. ‘Let’s see.’ She smiled. ‘There’s Angus. He’s three. The twins, Jess and Sophie, are six and Michael’s the oldest at eight.’ She glanced up with a quick grin. ‘I suppose I’d better count Vanessa as well. She’s still a baby at six months old.’ Jennifer reached for a roll of tape.

      Andrew was stunned. Five children? And the oldest was eight years old? His weary brain didn’t want to do the calculations. His chest felt tight. No wonder he’d never stood a chance. Jennifer must have been pregnant for the first time before she’d even married Hamish. Well before she’d left medical school. No wonder she’d given up her ambitions to be a surgeon herself. It was amazing she found time even to be a country GP.

      ‘There.’ Jennifer smoothed the tape holding the bandage in place and stripped off the gloves she was wearing. ‘Why don’t you have a rest while I go and check on Liam? Ruby’s getting your clothes dry so you’ll be able to get out of those scrubs soon. I’ll get her to bring you a cup of tea.’

      Andrew wasn’t listening. So many questions were forming themselves in his fuzzy brain. Like why wasn’t Jennifer wearing a wedding ring? And where was Hamish? Surely the man voted most likely to succeed in their year hadn’t lowered his sights to a career in a small, rural hospital? But if he wasn’t around, how come Jennifer was still producing babies? And how could she possibly still look as young and attractive as ever when she was the mother of five? The tightness in his chest changed to a tickle and then a major irritation.

      ‘That’s a nasty cough.’ Jennifer frowned. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling all right?’

      ‘I’m fine.’ Andrew forced himself to a sitting position. ‘I had a viral illness a couple of weeks ago. Left me with a touch of bronchitis.’

      Jennifer was still frowning. She fiddled with the end of her stethoscope. ‘Maybe I should give you a proper check-up.’

      ‘Forget it. You’ve got real patients to see to. Like Liam.’

      ‘Wendy’s quite capable of monitoring things. She’ll come and get us if we’re needed.’

      The second knock on the door made them both expect an instant summons to Liam, who still lay in the treatment room, but it was Suzanne who appeared in the doorway.

      ‘We need you, Jen. Liz has been in second stage labour for over an hour. The baby hasn’t turned and I’m not happy. Liz is exhausted and the foetal heart rate is dropping slightly during contractions.’

      Wendy’s face appeared beside Suzanne’s. ‘Liam’s ECG is showing a few irregularities,’ she informed Jennifer. ‘Can you come?’

      Andrew watched as Jennifer straightened her back. He could see the determination to cope in her face as it settled into a look of grim focus. She must be as tired as he was. She’d worked a full day before being called out to that accident site and she’d coped brilliantly with the unusual stress of major surgery being conducted in her treatment room. It must be years since she’d worked as an anaesthetist and it hadn’t been easy, dealing with a patient in Liam’s critical condition. She had two patients needing urgent attention now and he suspected that others were waiting. That middle-aged couple from the accident for starters. He swung his legs over the edge of the couch. His loose scrub-suit trousers unfolded to cover the bandage on his leg.

      ‘You see to the baby,’ he told Jennifer. ‘I’ll look after Liam.’

      Gratitude for Andrew’s unexpected offer of assistance stayed with Jennifer until she stepped into the maternity suite. Then everything else was forgotten. Elizabeth looked awful. Her face was puffy and her eyes swollen and red. A considerable number of tears had clearly been shed since Jennifer had last seen her patient. She picked up the damp cloth lying on the bedside locker and sponged her patient’s face gently as she absorbed her impression of the young woman’s condition and watched the trace of the foetal monitor.

      ‘You’ve been coping so well, Liz. You’re not having an easy time of it, are you?’