‘Do that. Oh, by the way…’ He stopped her as she was about to leave, not quite meeting her eyes, ‘Join me for lunch, will you? There’s some practice business we need to discuss.’
Practice business? Ally gave a mental shrug and let the door swing closed behind her. Time enough for that later. What was happening to little Kelly Watson?
She found Lucy in the treatment room, preparing for the asthma clinic.
‘I hear we’ve got problems with Kelly.’
Lucy nodded, her pretty face serious. ‘Too right. I spoke to the registrar and he wants to increase her inhaled steroids, but I don’t think that’s the best approach, do you?’
Ally propped herself against the wall and frowned thoughtfully. ‘When did we last check her inhaler technique?’
‘Last time she had an attack.’ Lucy flipped through her records. ‘And we checked her peak flow. In fact, we went through her entire management plan. I was totally satisfied that both she and Mum understood what she had to do.’
‘Well, something’s badly wrong,’ Ally murmured, ferreting around in her mind for a solution. ‘Any ideas?’
Lucy understood the problems of the asthma patients better than anyone. ‘Well, if I had to hazard a guess I’d say it was something to do with her mother.’
‘Her mother?’ Ally’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Surely she wants her to be well?’
Lucy frowned and tapped her pen on the desk. ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But she doesn’t seem very keen on increasing Kelly’s drugs.’
‘Well, that’s understandable, I suppose. No one likes taking drugs.’
‘No.’ Lucy stared at her thoughtfully and then shrugged. ‘Well, anyway, I’ll get them in and then let you know how I get on.’
‘Brilliant.’ Ally straightened and smiled. ‘Thanks, Lucy. See you later.’
Her surgery was busy, a constant stream of coughs, colds and ear infections, and halfway through she snatched a moment to phone the hospital about Pete. Hearing that his condition was now stable, she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d have a thing or two to say to him when he was discharged! In the meantime, she made a mental note to visit him and take him something to cheer him up.
Her next patient was a young woman, thirty years of age, whom Ally remembered from her recent pregnancy.
‘Hello, Jenny, how are the twins?’
Jenny Monroe smiled and rolled her eyes. ‘Hard work and getting harder. They can’t crawl yet but they’ve discovered that they can roll everywhere so I can’t leave them alone for a minute.’
‘I remember it well.’ Ally sat back in her chair and laughed, her mind scooting back to when Charlie had been that age. ‘Nightmare!’ Only it hadn’t been a nightmare. Not really. In many ways it had been wonderful, except for all the other traumas…
‘My mother’s got them for me for a few hours…’ Jenny fidgeted slightly. ‘I’ve got this thing on my leg and I’ve read so much lately about skin cancer it’s been worrying me.’
‘Let me have a look.’
Ally waited while Jenny pulled down her leggings, and then bent to examine the mole on her patient’s leg. Alarm bells rang instantly in her mind. It had a jagged, uneven edge and was a mixture of black and brown, both signs highly suggestive of malignant melanoma.
‘Are you a sunbather, Jenny?’ She rummaged in her drawer for a ruler and measured the mole carefully.
Jenny looked sheepish. ‘Well, not regularly, Dr McGuire, but I love the sun and I love to be tanned. It makes you feel better, doesn’t it?’
It depended on your skin type, Ally thought wryly. When you were very fair, as she was, it was better to stay out of the sun altogether and settle for looking pale and interesting.
Ally frowned. ‘Remind me where you work.’
‘I’m a bank clerk.’
‘And you holiday abroad?’
‘Oh, yes!’ Jenny smiled. ‘Mike and I live for our two weeks of sunshine!’
An indoor job all year round and two weeks a year sunbathing—the very worst combination.
Jenny watched her curiously. ‘Why are you measuring it?’
Ally hesitated and made a note on her pad. ‘You were quite right to come and see me, Jenny, because suspicious moles do need to be checked out.’
‘And this is suspicious?’
‘It certainly needs to come off.’
Jenny swallowed. ‘Do you think it’s cancer?’
Ally hesitated. ‘It’s impossible to say, without removing it and examining the cells under a microscope.’
‘But you think it might be, don’t you?’ Jenny probed, her eyes wide and anxious.
‘It’s possible,’ Ally admitted, ‘but we need to arrange for a specialist to remove the mole and have a proper look at it.’
‘And if it is?’ Jenny swallowed. ‘What then?’
Ally reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Jenny, it may be nothing. Why don’t we wait for the results before we discuss the options?’
Jenny took a deep breath. ‘OK. How long will I have to wait for an appointment? I won’t sleep a wink until I know…’
‘They’re very quick,’ Ally assured her, reaching for her hospital phone directory. ‘I’ll phone Mr Gordon, the plastic surgeon, today and he should see you this week.’
‘Plastic surgeon? I thought it would be a dermatologist.’
‘When it comes to removing moles it can be either. Mr Gordon is very good.’
Jenny gave her a shaky smile. ‘Well, at least I won’t have to wait long. Will I have to stay in hospital?’
Ally shook her head. ‘No. They’ll remove it under local anaesthetic as a day case and then ask you to go back for the results.’
Jenny nodded and stood up. ‘Oh, well! Nothing to do but wait, then. Thanks, Dr McGuire.’
Ally watched her go and felt suddenly depressed. She was sure the mole would turn out to be malignant, and Jenny was a young woman with two small children…
Forcing those thoughts away, she phoned Mr Gordon’s secretary and arranged for an urgent referral. Then she glanced at her watch, gasping as she saw the time. She was late for Will’s meeting.
She flicked off her computer and hurried to the staffroom, stroking her wayward blonde curls back out of her eyes. Her hair hated being tied up for work and rebelled by gradually escaping from the tidy plait she started the day with. Maybe she should have replaited it before the meeting—but, then, it was only Will and the other partners and she was already late.
‘Sorry, Will! I had two extras and—’ She broke off and froze, her eyes fixed on the man lounging in one of the easy chairs. It was Sean Nicholson, freshly shaved and wearing stylish trousers and a jacket, a look of amused satisfaction pulling at the corners of his mouth as he watched her stunned reaction.
Will was looking as pleased as Punch with himself, although he didn’t quite meet her eyes. ‘There you are, Ally! I wanted to introduce you to our new locum.’
For a moment her heart flipped and words failed her.
With a slight smile Sean intervened, his voice that same deep, lazy drawl she remembered so well. ‘We’ve met. Hello again, Ally.’
Had