A Private Consultation (Medical Romance Series)

A Private Consultation

By Shirley Heaton

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © Shirley Heaton 2013

The right of Shirley Heaton to be identified as author of this work asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All rights reserved

No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with the written permission of the author.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims damages

ISBN

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organisations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Also by Shirley Heaton

Chance Encounter

A Lesson in Love

Love Will Find a Way

A Prescription for Love

A Break with the Past

Oceans Apart

Relative Strangers

Prologue

Summer 2000

It was early morning and the sun was shining down from an azure sky casting its glow on the golden beach at Bellamy Bay. Except for a lone figure in the distance throwing a stick into the sea for a dog to retrieve, it was deserted. Brooke surveyed the wide stretch of sand and decided now was the best time to swim before the crowds arrived. She kicked off her sandals before slipping off her shorts and t-shirt, revealing a sylph-like figure clad in a flimsy bikini. The sand trickled soft and warm through her toes as she ran down to the sea and the fresh, salty aroma invaded her nostrils. She licked her lips and could almost taste the brine. The tide was coming in and, although she was a strong swimmer, she didn’t intend venturing far out. Diving straight into the waves, cool and refreshing, she swam vigorously until her skin tingled with a warm sensation. She flipped onto her back and began to float. It was so relaxing.

Idly glancing sideways she spotted the little motor boat moored some distance away to her right. Although it was ahead of her when she entered the waves, it was now well behind her and, at first, she thought no more about it. After all she had swum some way out. But surely not so far out. It was then a strange sensation came over her. Feeling a slight pull as though she was being propelled along by some unknown force, she was moving faster than she realised. Gradually she was floating away from the shore. It was time to swim back but, try as she might, a heavy drag was working against her. She was getting nowhere. Panic struck and her stomach churned when it dawned on her. She was caught up in a rip tide!

If she didn’t start to think clearly and do something about it, the rip could take her way out to sea. She knew the rules. Stay calm and don’t try to fight it, she told herself. And relax!

Instead of struggling against it, she stopped swimming and began to tread water, letting the rip pull her a little way out whilst she focused her mind. The words of her surfing instructor way back in the past when she was a mere ten-year-old came to mind. ‘Never turn against a rip and try to swim back to shore. It doesn’t work like that.’ Those had been empty words at the time. She’d been more interested in getting on with the surfing than listening to those words of warning. And surely it would never happen to her. But now realisation dawned. She wouldn’t get anywhere trying to fight the rip. The greatest risk would be exhaustion. She could even drown. Provided she remained calm, it wasn’t going to pull her under. And she must keep her breathing steady. Panicky short breaths would only debilitate. The sooner she escaped the vicious current the sooner she would be safe.

Gently continuing to tread water she pushed her legs sideways away from the rip before trying to swim parallel with the shoreline. But she must take it slowly, and, although the current was still taking her out, she kept an even pace as she edged along. Eventually the current lost some of its force. She was gradually leaving it behind. Taking a diagonal path she swam towards the shore, searching for a spot where the waves were breaking. Only then would she be completely out of the rip and out of danger.

A voice in the distance broke into her thoughts. ‘Stay calm there!’

Startled, she looked up and saw the powerful strokes of a lifeguard as he headed towards her. She’d been concentrating on staying alive and hadn’t seen him coming!

He reached out for her shoulders and said gently, ‘Relax. You’re safe with me now.’

She didn’t struggle. She let him bring her to the shore. And as they reached the safety of the beach she pulled herself out of the surf and looked up. The lifeguard was standing facing her and, as they measured one another in silence, a blast of humiliation rose up and swamped her. She closed her eyes and turned her head away. Why did this have to happen? She felt such an idiot. It was usually only kids that lifeguards had to rescue, more often than not those who couldn’t swim or who’d done something foolish.

He straightened up and when he eventually spoke to her, his tone was disapproving, his lips tight with annoyance. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing going out alone at this time of the morning when the beach is deserted?’ He shook his head and looked askance. ‘There isn’t another person around.’

She felt like a child being reprimanded by the teacher for misbehaving in class. She looked up at him, her clear brown eyes half hidden beneath a thick fringe of long, dark lashes. As she took in the cut of him, she could feel a blush colouring her cheeks. He was intensely attractive, muscular and tanned, in fact absolutely gorgeous. She drew in air. ‘Sorry about that,’ she managed to garble, struggling to keep her breath even. ‘I am quite a strong swimmer actually. I thought I’d be OK. I hadn’t accounted for a rip tide. That’s never happened before.’

He seemed to relax and when he grinned back at her she noticed that the blue-green colour of his eyes was the most unusual she’d ever seen. They were the colour of the sea and they sparkled. And his smile was so appealing she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

He studied her face. ‘There’s always a first,’ he offered. ‘But…’ He paused. ‘Sorry I don’t know your name.’

She was mesmerised. Any lucid thoughts suddenly seemed to scatter and fly away. But she hesitated only a moment and then she pulled herself together. ‘Brooke, Brooke Challoner.’

He held out his hand. ‘Pierce Donoghue.’

She took it and gazed. It was firm, like the rest of his body. She shuddered but hoped he hadn’t noticed.

‘I realised you more or less knew what you were doing. You’d probably have managed to get back to shore without my help, but I couldn’t chance it.’ He let go of her hand, slipped an arm around her shoulder and whispered in her ear. ‘Don’t try it again, Brooke. I do need some respite before I start in the morning.’ He laughed. ‘You were already in there when I came on duty. You didn’t even give me time to open up.’

He left her standing there and her heart began to flutter. She’d never felt like this before. She watched him walk away, and when he turned around to look back he must have seen her staring. He winked.

Oh dear, she thought. What must he think? But at seventeen she felt herself falling desperately in love for the first time in her life.

Each day she took herself off to the beach and each day she managed to bump into him, later discovering he’d taken a year out to travel.

‘I went off to Australia. I stayed there for nine months and trained to be a lifeguard.’ He turned away and levelled his eyes at the water’s edge as though to check out someone in the surf. Brooke took a furtive glance in his direction. If that was his background it wasn’t surprising he had such an even tan and a superb body. He turned back to her and took her hand in his. ‘Do you have a job?’

It wasn’t easy concentrating when he was smoothing his thumb over the back of her hand. She shook her head. ‘Not yet. I’m at uni next year.’

‘I’m starting September.’ He frowned. ‘I haven’t decided for definite about the course. But it’ll be science-based.’

‘My best subjects too,’ she told him. But it seemed Pierce hadn’t heard her reply. He turned and charged through the sand, hitting the water at speed. Another victim to be rescued.

Next day she looked through her bedroom window at the vivid blue sky and sighed contentedly. Her head was filled with the vision of Pierce, his thick, dark hair curling around his ears, his face with those prominent cheekbones, those flat planes and that strong jaw. She lay back in bed and closed her eyes. A warm feeling descended as she snuggled back to snatch a few more minutes with those delicious thoughts before she showered.

Her short stay at Bellamy seemed to fly. Like a lost puppy she followed Pierce incessantly, fluttering her eyelashes, her brown eyes wide with naivety as she proffered a sensual invitation. He was all of nineteen and she was besotted. He too seemed more than a little interested. He’d kissed her once. And again and again until she thought she’d die with ecstasy.

They watched the sun casting its final glimmer on the cool, clear water before it faded away into the west. And before they parted he’d written Pierce loves Brooke in the sand. ‘I promise I’ll text you,’ were his final words as he kissed her goodbye.

Chapter 1 – Ten years later

‘Another day over and I’m bushed!’ Brooke left the operating theatre and headed for the changing room. Her day may have been tiring but the friendly smile lighting up her brown eyes reflected her zest for life. Pushing open the swing door, she moved over to one of the benches, stripped off her theatre gown and tossed it into the laundry bin.

Jayne, the regular theatre sister caught her up and shook her head. ‘Tell me about it!’

Brooke turned. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask, are you free Friday, Jayne? I’m having a get-together at mine, a sort of house warming party.’

‘That’ll be great. I’ve nothing planned.’ Jayne kicked off her shoes and hung her towel on a hook.

‘Around seven if that’s OK,’ Brooke added, stretching out, turning on the shower and letting it run.

‘I finish mid-afternoon Friday,’ Jayne replied and pondered. ‘Why don’t I come along and help?’ she added.

‘Thanks for the offer, Jayne. Friday’s my day off. I think I can manage.’

‘Let me know if you’re stuck.’ Jayne smiled and continued. ‘I’m really looking forward to a chance to unwind. And I need it!’ she stressed, raising her eyes to the ceiling and sighing. ‘I wouldn’t relish another day like today.’

‘Me neither. It was touch and go with that last op.’

‘I’ll say. Dear little Elsie’s been with us for some time,’ Jayne offered. ‘Three or four weeks, I’d say.’ She paused. ‘You really worked your magic on her, Brooke. I thought we were losing her. But she rallied – thanks to you. You had her stabilised in a flash.’ She patted Brooke’s hand. ‘Frances was really impressed. I’m glad we found you.’

Brooke laughed and her eyes lit up to a lovely glow. ‘You’re joking.’ She shook her head. ‘I wasn’t head-hunted you know. I found the Grosvenor Clinic ad in the Lancet.’ She nodded thoughtfully before hunching her shoulders and adding casually, ‘And after all it’s my job to keep the patients alive.’

‘Point taken, but it didn’t faze you. That drama queen, Ben Gardner, would have taken a bow and several encores after that.’

Brooke acknowledged the compliment. ‘I know what you’re saying, but I wouldn’t know about Ben. I haven’t been introduced to the guy yet.’ She laughed. ‘You don’t win Oscars for drama in our profession. And in any case it’s not my style. So what’s the point? And let’s face it; the accolade should go to Frances. She’s a brilliant surgeon.’ She tugged at the theatre cap and, shaking loose her long, honey-blonde hair, she flicked it back and stepped into the shower.

Luxuriating in its soothing effect on her body, she closed her eyes and let the water spill over her. Prominent in her mind was her recent move to Appleby. Six months ago she’d split amicably with her ex, Ross, and decided it was time for a change of environment. She’d been at Rockfort General since qualifying five years earlier. Her move to Appleby and her appointment two months ago as anaesthetist at The Grosvenor Clinic fitted the bill and freed her of that humdrum existence. It was the fresh start she needed.

Giving herself a mental shake, she stepped out of the shower, knowing she must put on a spurt and tackle her priorities before leaving the clinic. She dried off, and dressed. Jayne was about to leave.

‘How’s the move going, Brooke? Will you be organised by Friday?’

‘Sure! It took me long enough to find the house, another week or two to sort things won’t harm.’ She towel-dried her hair and switched on the dryer. ‘Obviously the place will be clean and tidy but nothing more by then,’ she continued, raising her voice above the noise of the dryer. ‘What’s the point when you lively lot are more than likely to spill wine all over the place?’ She smiled.

‘You’ve soon got the measure of us.’ Jayne grinned back. ‘But, good luck with it! And don’t forget to sing out if you need any help on Friday,’ she added.

Brooke tied up her hair in a sleek ponytail before heading towards the Elizabeth Blackwell Unit. Once she’d checked up on Elsie, she was looking forward to leaving for home and chilling out after five hours in theatre. Sister was at the nurses’ station when she arrived.

‘Hello Pam. How’s Elsie Morris?’ Brooke asked her.

Sister smiled and slipped her arm around Brooke. ‘She’s fine, Brooke. But you’re looking a little tired, my dear. You need to rest. Have you someone to help you with the move?’

‘The furniture’s already at the house, but the rest of my things…’ She held out her hands and lifted her shoulders. ‘Don’t ask me what belongs where. I haven’t decided yet.’

‘It’ll keep. You have all the time in the world to settle in.’ Sister patted her gently on the shoulder. ‘Now, back to Mrs Morris. I hear you performed a miracle in theatre.’

It seemed word had got out, but she didn’t want to accept the compliment. It belonged to the surgeon. ‘It’s Frances who should be given the credit. She’s so skilful.’

Sister smiled knowingly and set off down the corridor at a brisk pace. ‘Elsie’s coming round fine. No worries.’ She tapped on the door of a side room and walked in. Brooke followed. ‘Doctor Challoner to see you, Mrs Morris.’

The patient was flat on her back, her face pinched with pain. Brooke leant over the cot. ‘How are you feeling Elsie?’

‘Still groggy, doctor, and the pain’s coming back.’

Brooke turned to Sister. ‘Has Frances done her rounds yet?’

‘According to the bush telegraph she’s on her way.’

Brooke took the patient’s hand. ‘Miss Connor will be here soon,’ she told her and, smiling, she added, ‘She’ll let you know how things went, although everything seemed fine to me.’ She turned to Sister and held out her hand. ‘The chart, Sister?’

‘Her temperature, pulse and BP are all fine. No problems in that direction, doctor,’ she confirmed, passing over the chart.

Brooke glanced at it. ‘That’s good.’ She turned to the patient. ‘I’ll prescribe stronger pain killers for you, Elsie. That should help until the pain subsides. And don’t worry. We’ll soon have you up and about again.’ On her way out Brooke called at the nurses’ station, quickly dashing off a prescription before leaving and heading back to Appleby. It was to be the first night in her new home.

The drive through the leafy lanes was pleasant. She wound the window down and the smell of freshly mowed grass drifted through into the car. The pleasant chorus of collared doves cooing and busy little sparrows chirping hit the air waves. Brooke smiled to herself. This was the life she loved. When she reached the village square, she noticed it was market day and she pulled into a side street and parked before wandering over the cobbles to look around. The fresh fruit and vegetables, polished and gleaming in the sunlight, caught her eye. Nearby the other stalls displayed a whole host of wares from cream cakes to cotton reels. Lively music drifted from a corner of the square where a youth band was playing well known marches. People were sitting at tables outside the Royal Oak drinking and laughing, tapping their toes to the music. Brooke was engulfed by a feeling of warmth. She was going to enjoy living here. She loved the atmosphere the village portrayed.

Eventually she left the square and when she arrived outside her cottage