Prince Charming of Harley Street / The Heart Doctor and the Baby (3 page)

‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out. You get to bed and I’ll see you whenever you come back to work.’

Vicki grimaced. ‘God knows when that’ll be. Jonathan made me promise not to come back until I’ve stopped being sick. If it follows the same pattern as last time, it could be months.’

‘I’ll speak to him about finding someone to cover for
you as soon as I get back to the office.’ Rose made her voice stern. ‘Now, inside and off you go to bed.’

By the time Rose, with an enormous sigh of relief, returned to the surgery, it seemed as if Lord Bletchley had been and gone. Jonathan was back at her desk with his feet up, flicking through the magazine Rose had skimmed through earlier. He was scowling.

‘Bloody paparazzi,’ he muttered. ‘Can never get their facts right.’ He flung the magazine aside and got to his feet. ‘How is Vicki?’

‘She was going to go straight to bed. Her husband’s on night duty, so he’ll keep an eye on her.’

Jonathan pulled his hand through his thick dark hair. ‘I can’t see her being back for at least a month. If then. Would you mind getting onto the nursing agencies? You’ll find the number of the one we use regularly in the diary. Ask if there’s anyone who could cover on a day-to-day basis for the next four weeks at a minimum.’

An idea was beginning to form in Rose’s head, but she liked to think things through before she spoke. Jonathan looked at his watch. ‘I’ll be in my room if you need me. I’ve a couple of phone calls to make.’

Could she? Should she? Rose rolled the idea around in her head. It would be the perfect solution. She was a trained nurse and there really wasn’t that much to keep her busy at the desk. Mrs Smythe Jones had told her that she hoped to be back in a week or two. Rose could combine both roles for a short time. She’d much prefer to be kept busy. And if they needed someone to man the desk while she was in with a patient, she thought she had a solution to that too.

The ringing of the door interrupted her musings. She pressed the door release and watched bemused as a teenage
boy with a resentful expression was almost dragged inside by an irate-looking woman.

‘Come on, Richard,’ the woman was saying. ‘We might as well see the doctor now we’re here.’

The boy looked at Rose through long hair that almost covered his face and Rose bit down the stab of sympathy that swept over her. He had the worst case of acne she had seen outside a textbook. His face was covered with angry raised bumps and he looked utterly miserable. Underneath the bad skin, Rose could see that he could be a good-looking boy, if it weren’t for the surly expression and terrible acne. It brought back memories of her own teenage years, when she had felt as self-conscious with her height as this boy clearly did with his skin.

She smiled at the boy, knowing how embarrassed he would be feeling.

‘You must be Richard Pearson,’ she said. ‘If you want to take a seat with your mother, I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.’

All Rose got in reply was a grunt. Nevertheless he sat down, dipping his head so his hair covered his face.

His mother looked at him with a mixture of frustration and love. ‘I apologise for my son’s rudeness,’ she said. ‘He didn’t want to come.’ She turned her back to her son, leaned across the desk and continued, her voice lowered to a whisper, ‘I’m at my wits’ end. He’s refusing to go to school now. He just sits in his room, playing on his computer. I’ve tried other doctors. Dr Cavendish is my last hope. I heard from a friend that he helped her daughter.’ She glanced behind her again. Richard was engrossed with his mobile; either playing a game or texting.

‘I’m sure Dr Cavendish will do everything he can. I’ll
just let him know you’re here.’ Rose certainly hoped he could help. Nothing so far had given her any confidence in his medical ability. Oh, he was certainly charming. The way he had been with Lady Hilton had made that evident, but no amount of charm was going to help this poor unhappy boy. At the very least surely he would refer him to a dermatologist?

She buzzed through. ‘I have Richard Pearson to see you,’ she said.

‘I’ll be right out.’ He really did have a lovely voice. Deep with just a hint of a Scottish accent.

As before, he was out of his room almost before she had a chance to put the phone down. He went over to the boy and held out his hand. ‘I’m Dr Cavendish. But you can call me Jonathan, if you like. Why don’t you come into my room and we can have a chat?’

Richard reluctantly got to his feet, and scowled at his mother.

Something in his expression must have caught Jonathan’s attention. ‘Why don’t you stay here, Mrs Pearson?’ he said, his voice as smooth as silk. ‘And have a cup of tea while I talk to your son on his own for a bit. Then if you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them.’

‘I’d like to come in with my son,’ Mrs Pearson said stubbornly.

Richard looked at his feet and shuffled them uncomfortably.

‘Richard? What would you like? I see from your notes that you’re seventeen so I’m happy to see you on your own. However, if you’d prefer your mother to come in with you, that’s perfectly all right too.’

‘On my own,’ Richard mumbled with an apologetic
look at his mother. ‘I’ll be okay, Mum. As the doctor says, I’m almost eighteen.’

Mrs Pearson seemed unconvinced. Rose touched her gently on the elbow.

‘Why don’t I get us both a cup of tea?’

Mrs Pearson watched Jonathan lead her son away, but then let Rose guide her over to one of the armchairs and sit her down.

‘I don’t really want any tea,’ she said. ‘I just want to get my son helped. This time last year he was popular and outgoing, and he seemed so happy. But ever since the problem with his skin, he’s become so withdrawn and miserable. I keep telling him that it’ll get better in time, but he says he doesn’t care. It’s now that matters.’ She drew a shaky breath. ‘I’m so scared he’ll do something silly.’

Rose sat down next to the distraught mother. ‘There are medicines that can help. It’s often just a case of finding the right one. As soon as he knows we can improve his skin, he’ll be happier. It’s too cruel that he’s been hit with this just at a time when his hormones are already all over the place.’

‘I hope you’re right.’ The woman sniffed and then looked at Rose, puzzled. ‘I guess you pick up all sorts of information working in a doctor’s practice.’

‘I guess you do.’ Rose smiled. There was no point in telling her that she had spent the last four years studying nursing, and dermatology had been one of the last modules before she’d qualified. And as for understanding teenage angst, it hadn’t been that long since she’d been through it herself. She remembered only too well how awful it felt to be the odd one out. Somehow at that age you could never accept that others had the same feelings of inadequacy and that they were just better at hiding it. Not that she could
imagine Dr Jonathan Cavendish going through anything like it. She doubted that he’d had a moment’s uncertainty about his looks in his life.

She chatted with Richard’s mother until almost half an hour had passed. Eventually, Richard emerged with Jonathan. To her relief the teenager seemed much happier. He almost managed a smile for his mother.

‘So take the tablets for a week and come back and see me. If things haven’t improved substantially, we’ll think of what to do next. One way or another, we’ll get on top of this.’

Richard’s mother looked uncomfortable for a moment. Rose guessed instantly that she might be worrying about the cost of the consultation and medication.

‘Oh, and by the way, the follow-up consultations are included in the price of this appointment. I’ve also given Richard a letter to take to his GP, who’ll be happy to give him the prescription on the NHS. I hope that’s okay.’

There was no disguising Mrs Pearson’s relief. Rose warmed to Jonathan. He had done that so gracefully she doubted Mrs Pearson or her son suspected for a moment that he was lying about the cost of the consultations. It was all there in the brochure she had read that morning. Thankfully, Mrs Smythe Jones had said on her detailed list that she’d catch up with the billing on her return. So many of their patients had different arrangements for payment that it would be far too complicated for a temp to work out who was to be billed what and when.

As soon as mother and son had left, Rose turned to Jonathan.

‘What did you prescribe?’

He looked at her baffled. ‘Amoxicillin. Why do you want to know?’

Rose felt her cheeks grow warm. She hadn’t decided whether to tell him she was a nurse, but now it seemed as if she had no choice.

‘I’m a trained nurse,’ she admitted finally. ‘A practice nurse, and I not too long ago completed a course on dermatology, so I kind of wondered what you thought you could do for him. I know topical retinoids can help when antibiotics don’t.’

His frown deepened. ‘A nurse? Why are you working as a…?’ He stopped in mid-sentence.

Rose had to smile at his obvious discomfort. ‘I’m on leave from my job for a few weeks for personal reasons. I was a medical secretary until five years ago, so I’m also qualified to do this job. When I was working as a medical secretary, I realised as I typed up the notes for the doctors that what I was reading really fascinated me and I wanted to know more.’

Oops. What was she doing? There was something in the way he was looking at her with those steady curious green eyes that was making her babble. And she was usually so reticent when it came to talking about herself.

He did look genuinely interested, although Rose had the strong suspicion that was just part of his practised charm. In which case, why on earth was she telling him? But she could hardly stop now. ‘Anyway, my boss encouraged me to study for my A levels in my spare time and then apply to university, and they accepted me.’ Try as she would, she couldn’t quite prevent the note of pride creeping into her voice. She was the first person in her family who had gone to university and her parents had almost burst with pride.

‘So why are you here?’ He sounded puzzled. ‘Why didn’t you take a nursing job? God knows, this city is desperate
for trained nurses.’ His eyes were casually moving up and down her body, as if he were a cat and she the cream. She should have been annoyed, but she knew it couldn’t be because he found her attractive. Not this man. Suddenly she regretted wearing her old interview suit and primly buttoned-up blouse. Nevertheless, there was something deliciously unexpected about the way it made her feel. For a second she almost forgot the question.

‘Rose?’ he prompted.

Now see what she had started. This was where she should tell him about her home situation and despite his interested gaze she wasn’t sure he would really want to know.

‘Go on,’ he encouraged. ‘I’d really like to know,’ he said as if reading her mind. He leaned against the filing cabinets and folded his arms, his eyes never straying from her face.

‘Let’s just say family circumstances and leave it at that?’ She kept her voice light, but returned his stare directly. It really was none of his business. He was her boss but that didn’t give him the right to give her the third degree. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly the third degree, but it was more than she wanted to tell him.

He was still studying her intently and she could see the same thought processes going through his head as had gone through hers earlier. She was a nurse. He needed a nurse, and quickly.

‘Did you have any luck with the agency? About a replacement for Vicki?’ he asked.

‘I haven’t called yet,’ she admitted. ‘I was thinking…’ She took a deep breath. What if he hated her suggestion? For all she knew, practices like this wanted their nurses to have the right kind of accent. The right kind of image.
Although there was nothing wrong with the way she spoke, her voice didn’t have the plummy ring to it that Vicki’s voice did.

‘That since you’re a nurse, you could fill in for her? Exactly what I was thinking. But what about the office? I’m not sure you could do both jobs.’

Rose hid a smile. She could easily manage both jobs if it were a simple case of workload, but he was right. There did need to be someone at the desk if she was in with a patient.

‘I know just the person for the office,’ she said. ‘She’s young, but keen. She’s at a bit of a loose end while she’s looking for a permanent job. I know she’ll be glad to work any hours needed, but she also won’t mind if you need to let her go at any time.’

‘Cool. Can I leave you to sort it out? Tiggy always manages that side of things. I’m afraid I’m useless at anything except the medical side.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Lunchtime! Where do you fancy eating?’

Rose gaped at him. There was no way she wanted to go to lunch with him. Not today, possibly never. She was having way too odd a reaction to him, and she wanted some time to examine what was happening. It had always worked in the past. Thinking about something logically made it easier to deal with. Besides, she had brought her own snack. She really couldn’t afford to eat out.

‘I brought a packed lunch,’ she said primly. ‘I’m quite happy to have it at my desk.’

His lips twitched, but he didn’t try to persuade her. He was probably relieved she had said no. No doubt it was his impeccable manners that had prompted his offer in the first place and no doubt he would have been mortified had she said yes. Somehow she guessed that the hired help
going out with the boss wasn’t the way things were done in this part of London.

Jonathan ran down the stairs of his London consulting rooms and into the frosty spring air. He couldn’t help smiling when he thought of the temp. She was a lot better looking than Mrs Smythe Jones, that was for sure. Although he had a soft spot for the elderly receptionist, who had been there since he’d been in short trousers, he was looking forward to the next few weeks. Rose Taylor intrigued him. The baggy cardigan she was wearing couldn’t quite disguise a figure that would make most of his female acquaintances weep into their champagne. Luckily he was a connoisseur of women though; anyone else would have failed to see that she was a stunner under that shapeless cardigan and old-fashioned glasses. And he’d liked the way she had dealt with his patients. Solicitous but not overbearing. He couldn’t help but notice the way they responded to her. Even Lady Hilton, who usually was as narky as the dog she insisted carrying everywhere, had been like putty in her hands. She was the most intriguing woman he had met since—well, for a long time. The unusual mix of prickly personality, which reminded him of a teacher he’d had at school, and hidden sex appeal. How could a woman be sexy and sexless at the same time? He whistled as he made his way to the restaurant. It was going to be interesting having Rose Taylor around.