Melting the Argentine Doctor's Heart / Small Town Marriage Miracle (33 page)

‘It looks to me as though you have immersion foot, Mr Dawson. It’s a type of injury caused when feet are allowed to remain wet and cold for a prolonged period. You may have heard of trench foot which so many soldiers in the First World War suffered from? It’s the same thing.’

‘I’ve not been standing in any trenches,’ Harold retorted scathingly.

‘I’m sure you haven’t. But if you’ve been outdoors and got your feet wet and not bothered to change your shoes and socks, that could have caused it.’ Daniel tactfully didn’t add that from the state of the man’s socks there was no
could
about it. It was doubtful if Harold Dawson had put on clean socks or anything else for a very long time!

He took a prescription pad out of his case and wrote out a script for painkillers. ‘I imagine your foot’s very painful so these will help. You’ll also need to bathe your foot in tepid water to cool it and reduce the swelling. Make sure you put on clean, dry socks and that your shoes or boots are dry too.’ Daniel handed the man the prescription. ‘If you notice any sores appearing, contact the surgery. Skin ulcers can develop and that’s something we want to avoid.’

‘So that’s it, is it?’ Harold Dawson slammed the prescription down on the table. ‘Take some pills and put on dry socks. I could’ve worked that out for myself! ‘

Daniel smiled calmly, resisting the urge to tell
the man that if he’d done that in the beginning there wouldn’t have been a problem. ‘That’s right. It’s just a question of taking care of yourself.’

‘I don’t need any advice from you,’ the old man responded belligerently. He shuffled towards the door, making it clear that he expected Daniel to leave.

Daniel picked up his case, knowing how pointless it was to suggest that he arranged for the community nurse to call and check how Harold’s foot was healing. If the poor woman received the kind of reception he’d received, she would probably refuse to call a second time, and he wouldn’t blame her either. He made a note to speak to Ruth about the old man when he got back to the surgery and headed out to the hall, pausing when there was a loud banging on the front door.

‘What the dickens.!’ Harold Dawson pushed past him and strode along the hall. Wrenching open the door, he glowered at the young man standing outside. ‘You can take yourself off my property right now.’

‘Believe me, I’d like nothing better than not to see hide nor hair of you or this place for the rest of my life,’ the other man retorted.

Daniel frowned when he realised that the caller was Alistair Grant. It seemed a coincidence that he should turn up here when he needed to speak to him. However, he was less concerned about resolving Alistair’s health issues at that moment than he was about defusing the situation.

He hurried to the door, hoping to avert a full-scale row.

‘Hello, Alistair,’ he said quietly, drawing both men’s attention to him. ‘I’m surprised to see you here.’

‘I’m not here out of choice, believe me, Dr Kennedy,’ Alistair replied angrily. He glared at the old man. ‘If you don’t stop dumping stuff on the road to the construction site then I warn you, Dawson, that the company I work for will take legal action. Carry on with your little games and you’ll find yourself in prison. Is that clear?’

‘Aye, it’s clear enough. But if you think a young pup like you can come to my home and threaten me, think again.’

Daniel’s heart sank when he saw Harold Dawson reach behind the front door and pick up a shotgun that had been standing there. He aimed it at Alistair Grant’s chest. ‘You need to learn some manners, lad, and I’m just the one to teach them to you.’

‘Come on, now, let’s all calm down,’ Daniel said soothingly. He stepped forward then stopped when Dawson swung round and pointed the gun at him.

‘I’ve told you once that I don’t need any advice from you.’ The old man scowled at him. ‘You’re no better than he is. Coming in here, thinking you can tell folk what to do. Well, I’ve had enough, do you hear me? It’s ‘bout time someone stood up to the likes of you. Inside, both of you.’

Dawson waved the shotgun towards the kitchen. Daniel hesitated but one glance at the old man’s face warned him that it would be foolish to refuse to do what he asked. He headed back along the hall, wondering what was going to happen next. Maybe Dawson only wanted to scare them but he didn’t think so—it looked far more serious than that.

He put his case on the table as Alistair followed him
into the room, seeing the sheen of perspiration on the younger man’s face. It was obvious that he was scared stiff and Daniel didn’t blame him. Harold Dawson was on the brink of losing control and there was no knowing what would happen then.

A picture of Emma suddenly appeared in his mind’s eye and he felt a shaft of regret so sharp run through him that he winced. He couldn’t bear to think that he might die without telling Emma that he loved her.

‘I
DON’T
suppose you’ve seen Daniel, have you, Emma?’

Emma paused when Ruth called to her on her way into the surgery that afternoon. It was five minutes to four and she was keen to get to her room before her first patient arrived. ‘Not since lunchtime, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, right.’ Ruth sighed.

Emma frowned. ‘Why? Is there a problem?’

‘No, not really. It’s just that he usually pops in with his notes after he’s finished the house calls, but he’s not been in yet this afternoon.’

‘Maybe he’s running late,’ Emma suggested.

‘Probably, although there weren’t that many calls to do today.’ Ruth shrugged when the phone rang. ‘Maybe he got held up. You know how some people love to talk—he probably couldn’t get away.’

‘I expect that’s it,’ Emma agreed as she carried on along the corridor, although she was surprised that Daniel would have allowed himself to be late. He was a stickler for punctuality and was usually at his desk well before his first appointment was due.

She booted up her computer then glanced through the list that Ruth had left on her desk. It wasn’t too long
for a change so, hopefully, she could finish on time for once. She buzzed through for her first patient, smiling when Judith Fisher walked into the room.

‘Hello, Judith. How are you?’

‘I’m all right, Dr Roberts.’ The young woman sat down in front of the desk. ‘I had an appointment at the hospital on Wednesday. The consultant did a laparoscopy and confirmed that I have endometriosis, like you suspected.’

‘At least we know what we’re dealing with now,’ Emma said quietly.

‘I suppose so,’ Judith agreed wistfully.

Emma guessed that it had been a blow for Judith to have her suspicions confirmed and tried to focus on the positive aspects of the diagnosis. ‘What did the consultant suggest by way of treatment?’

‘He’s put me back on the Pill to prevent me menstruating. It will help to control the pain and, hopefully, stop the cysts from getting any bigger. He also said that he might surgically remove some of the larger cysts at a later date.’

‘And you’re worried about how that will affect your chances of having a baby?’

‘Yes.’ Tears rose in Judith’s eyes. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever have a baby now, will I?’

‘I haven’t received a copy of your consultant’s report yet, Judith, so there is no way that I can tell you that everything is going to be all right. However, what I can say is that between sixty and seventy per cent of women who suffer from endometriosis are able to have children.’

‘That sounds much better than how the consultant put it.’ Judith managed a watery smile. ‘He said that thirty to forty per cent of women with endometriosis are infertile.’

‘I suppose it’s the glass half full or half empty scenario,’ Emma said with a chuckle. ‘It depends which way you choose to look at the figures.’

‘Well, I prefer your way.’ Judith sounded more optimistic all of a sudden. ‘I have almost a seventy per cent chance of becoming a mum and that’s pretty good odds, I’d say.’

‘So would I.’ Emma smiled at her. ‘I know it must be hard but try to remain positive. Once you’ve completed the treatment, who knows what might happen? And the plus factor is that pregnancy is known to suppress the symptoms of endometriosis.’

‘A case of fingers crossed.’ Judith laughed as she stood up.

‘Exactly.’

Emma was still smiling as she buzzed through her next patient. It was always good to know that you had helped someone be more positive about their life. That was one of the reasons why she loved surgery, of course, although she hadn’t realised that she would derive the same pleasure from general practice work. No wonder Daniel enjoyed his job so much.

The thought startled her. Ever since Daniel had announced that he planned to go into private practice, she’d had a jaundiced view of his motives for becoming a GP. Now she could see that she may have misjudged him.

It didn’t necessarily mean that it was purely financial gain that drove him.

It was uncomfortable to find her view of Daniel knocked off kilter. Emma found it difficult to push the idea aside as she dealt with her next patient, an elderly man who suffered from chronic bronchitis. She renewed his prescription for an inhaler and gently suggested that he might benefit from oxygen therapy. Once she had explained that oxygen cylinders could be delivered to his home, he happily agreed. She made a note to ask Ruth to contact the nearest supplier and saw him out. She was just about to sit down again when Ruth, herself, hurried into the room.

‘I’m sorry to barge in, Emma, but Daniel still hasn’t appeared. I’m getting really worried now, because it just isn’t like him not to turn up,’ the receptionist told her anxiously.

‘No, it certainly isn’t,’ Emma agreed. ‘Have you tried his phone?’

‘Yes, but it goes straight to voice mail.’ Ruth bit her lip. ‘You don’t think he’s had an accident, do you? Some of the roads round here are a bit tricky if you don’t know them that well.’

‘I’m sure we’d have heard if he had,’ Emma assured her, although her heart had started to race at the thought of Daniel lying injured somewhere. She took a deep breath before panic could set in. ‘Do you have a list of the calls he was supposed to do this afternoon?’ When Ruth nodded, she hurried on. ‘Then I suggest you telephone everyone on the list and check what time he visited
them. That way we’ll have a better idea of where he might be.’

‘Good idea!’ Ruth exclaimed. She hurried to the door then paused. ‘What about his patients, though? There’s a real backlog forming.’

‘I’ll have to see them,’ Emma told her. ‘I’ll see one of mine then one of Daniel’s—that will be fairer than making his patients wait till I finish my list.’

Emma picked up the phone as soon as Ruth left and dialled Daniel’s phone but the call went straight to voice mail again. She hung up, feeling her stomach churning with nerves. What could have happened to stop him even answering his phone? She had no idea but it was extremely worrying. Maybe they didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things but she couldn’t bear to think that he may have been hurt or worse even.

Her heart suddenly seemed to shrivel up inside her. The thought of never seeing Daniel again was more than she could bear.

Daniel heard his phone ring and guessed that it must be Ruth calling to see where he was. He glanced at his watch, realising with a start that it was almost four-thirty. How much longer was Dawson going to keep them here? he wondered, glancing at the old man, who was standing guard by the kitchen door. He had no idea but something needed to be done to resolve this situation soon.

‘Look, Mr Dawson, I know you’re upset but this is crazy. Keeping us here won’t achieve anything,’ he said in his most reasonable tone. ‘All you’ll do is find
yourself in a whole load of trouble and I’m sure that isn’t what any of us wants.’

‘I don’t care how much trouble I’m in. It’ll be worth it to put a stop to what’s going on.’ Harold Dawson raised the shotgun and pointed it at Alistair Grant. ‘If him and his cronies think they can come here and tear up the countryside then they can think again!’

Daniel saw the colour drain from Alistair’s face and quickly interceded. ‘If that’s the way you feel, you need to talk to someone, see if you can get the decision to build this wind farm reversed.’

‘Talk! I’ve talked till I’m blue in the face and no one’s listened to me.’ Harold’s face flushed with anger. ‘No, it’s actions that will get their attention, nothing else.’

Daniel opened his mouth to try again to make him see sense when the telephone rang. Harold Dawson lifted the receiver off its rest. Daniel could tell from what the old man was saying that it was the surgery phoning and guessed that Ruth must be checking up on his whereabouts. He was tempted to shout out that he was there but Dawson must have realised he might do that and swung the gun towards him.

‘No, the doctor left a while ago. No, I don’t know what time it was. I’ve better things to do than keep a check on folk’s comings and goings.’

He went to slam the receiver back on its rest at the same moment that Daniel’s mobile phone rang again. He let it go to voice mail once more, knowing it would be foolish to try and answer it. Dawson’s mood was far too volatile to risk upsetting him any further. He glanced at Alistair and saw the fear in the younger man’s eyes.

‘What are we going to do?’ Alistair mouthed desperately.

Daniel shook his head. Reasoning with the old man obviously wasn’t going to work and using physical force was out of the question when Dawson had that gun. All he could hope was that Emma would call the police when he failed to turn up. So long as she didn’t try tracking him down herself, of course.

The air seemed to lock in his lungs at the thought of her following him to the farm and placing herself in danger. He knew if that happened he would have to do something, no matter how risky it was.

He took a deep breath and his mind was suddenly crystal clear. He would give up his life to protect Emma because he loved her.

It was seven o’clock before the last patient left. Emma hurried through to Reception, not needing to ask if there was any news when she saw the worry on Ruth’s face. ‘Still nothing,’ she said helplessly.

‘No. I just don’t know what to do next, Emma.’