Obviously he’d never really known her. Because the Holly Jones he remembered had planned to be a GP—so she could get to know her patients properly and look after them from cradle to grave. He’d felt the same. They’d even talked about having their own practice, a husband-and-wife team.
Even though he’d chosen his speciality years after their break-up, he hadn’t been able to face a GP rotation. Instead, he’d chosen emergency medicine, where he could do the best for his patients but he could stay uninvolved. He could walk away.
‘Right, now you’ve finished your coffee, I’ll show you round the rest of the department,’ Anna said.
‘Thanks.’ He smiled at Anna. So what if Holly was back in his life? She was probably married—to someone her family thought suitable for her—and used her maiden name for professional purposes. And even if she wasn’t married, David was older and much, much wiser. He wasn’t going to let her get close ever again.
As for her smile making his heart turn over, that was just a reflex action. He hadn’t thought of Holly for ages.
Ha. Who was he trying to kid? At the weekend, when he’d moved into his tiny flat round the corner from the hospital, he’d unpacked a few boxes and come across an old photograph of the two of them together. A photograph he should have thrown out years and years ago. He’d looked at her sweet, shy smile and wondered what she was doing now. Had she become a doctor? Was she married to another GP, with four children and a houseful of cats and dogs and hamsters, living the life they’d always planned, only without him?
Now he knew at least one of the answers. She was a doctor. An emergency specialist. They were going to have to work together and put the past behind them. Somehow.
‘It’s my stomach, doctor,’ Lucy said, doubling over as another spasm hit her. ‘It hurts so much.’
‘Lie back, try to relax and I’ll take a look,’ Holly said gently. ‘Breathe for me. In, out, in, out.’
Gradually Lucy calmed and lay back against the bed.
Holly bared Lucy’s abdomen and palpated it gently. ‘Tell me when it hurts,’ she said.
Lucy flinched wherever Holly touched her. ‘It hurts all over.’
An acute abdomen could mean one of about a dozen things. Holly had to narrow things down. Fast. ‘Have you had any other symptoms?’
Lucy grimaced. ‘I thought it was just a bug—the usual thing, a temperature and a headache and feeling a bit sweaty and tired. I’ve had that horrible summer cough and that makes everyone a bit breathless, doesn’t it?’
‘Maybe,’ Holly said.
‘It’s so hot in here,’ Lucy said, then shook her head. ‘Sorry. I’m trying not to whine.’
‘You’re not feeling well,’ said Holly. ‘And we all think we need air-conditioning, too.’
‘I was going to see my GP. I was starting to think maybe it was the menopause, even though I’m not quite forty.’
‘Because of the sweats?’
‘And my periods are next to nothing,’ Lucy said. She smiled wryly. ‘And I’ve been getting PMT. I mean, really bad PMT. Oliver’ll tell you, I’ve been a monster.’ Her hand tightened round his. ‘But then I got this pain in my stomach.’
‘I thought it might be her appendix so I brought her here,’ said Oliver, Lucy’s husband.
‘Have you been sick at all?’ Holly asked.
Lucy nodded. ‘And I’ve had a bit of a tummy upset. It might have been something I ate.’
‘She’s been eating like a horse lately,’ Oliver said.
‘I don’t think it’s appendicitis,’ Holly said. She checked Lucy’s temperature and pulse. Lucy’s pulse was definitely up—more than Holly had expected from the fever. ‘Have you had any other pains lately?’
‘She won’t admit it, but she’s had chest pains,’ Oliver said.
‘I am not having a heart attack. Will you stop nagging me, Oliver?’ Lucy said crossly. ‘Besides, I’m managing my weight so my heart’ll be fine. I’m on that new diet and it’s actually working.’ Despite the fact that, according to Oliver, Lucy had been eating a lot more than usual.
‘Have you lost much weight?’ Holly asked.
‘A stone and a half. It’s falling off,’ Lucy said. ‘First time ever.’
‘Probably because you never stop. She’s always on the go,’ Oliver added wryly. ‘She’s just been promoted to head teacher.’
‘So I need to put the hours in,’ Lucy said defensively.
‘I need to do some blood tests to rule out some possibilities,’ Holly said. ‘I’ll be back in a second.’ She smiled and left the cubicle.
‘Miche—just the woman I wanted,’ she said, spotting the staff nurse. ‘Can you give me a hand running some tests, please?’
‘Sure. What do you need?’
‘My patient’s in cubicle eight. Her name’s Lucy. I need some bloods done, first. Us and Es, ionised calcium, full blood count and differential. Ask the lab to check T4, T3 and TSH as well.’ Checking the tri-iodothyronine, thryoxine and thyroid stimulating hormone levels in the bloodstream would help Holly find out if it was a problem with Lucy’s endocrine system, and if so the results would help her give the right dosage of medication to get Lucy’s levels back to normal.
‘What’s this? A patient with thyroid problems?’ a male voice asked beside her.
Damn. She could do with some kind of early warning system so she could avoid David—so she could avoid situations like this when he might catch her off guard. ‘I’m not sure. That’s why I’m asking for T4, T3 and TSH levels,’ she said shortly, and turned her attention back to Michelle. ‘Thanks, Miche. I’d also like to do some BMGs.’ BMGs, or bedside strip measurement of glucose, would check Lucy’s blood-sugar levels. ‘And a mid-stream urine specimen—Oh, and she’s got a bit of a chest infection, so ask the lab to run blood cultures, so we can see what’s causing it.’
‘What are her symptoms?’ David asked.
‘Acute abdomen, losing weight despite eating a lot, chest pains, a fast heartbeat, sweating, volatile emotions and tiredness.’
‘What about her blink rate?’ If Lucy was blinking less than normal, it was another pointer towards a thyroid problem. ‘Any swelling in the tissues around her eyes?’
Holly looked at him and had to fight to get her thoughts back in control. Hell, this was just how she’d imagined him as a doctor. Completely focused on his patients. Caring.
If only he’d been like that about her. ‘I’m doing bloods to check if it’s thyroid,’ Holly said.
‘I nearly specialised in endocrinology before I settled on emergency medicine. I could have word with her, if you like.’
No. I don’t want to work with you and I don’t want you interfering with my patients.
On the other hand, she’d taken the Hippocratic oath. She had a choice of letting David help or trying to get hold of Fabian, the endocrine specialist, who almost never answered his bleep and needed at least three follow-up nags. Her patient came first. Even if it meant that Holly was in the awkward position of owing David Neave a favour. ‘Thanks. I’ll introduce you.’
To her relief, he simply followed her back to cubicle eight. ‘Lucy, Oliver, this is David Neave, our new senior registrar. I’ve been talking to him about what the problem might be, and he’s your man for any questions.’
He