And then he wondered why he had said something as archaic as ‘young’! Not something he normally did. So, was his subconscious, he asked himself critically, simply using a word designed to create some kind of distance between them? And, if so, was that really necessary at this stage?
Nancy had raised her eyebrows at his terminology and as their eyes met—his rueful, hers questioning—she suddenly burst out laughing, the spontaneous sound surprising both of them. To his astonishment, he found himself joining in.
‘Young Dr Greenwood is fine, thank you very much,’ she told him gravely. ‘She adores your fish tank, and she’s just itching to get into that playpen!’
‘Did I sound very patronising?’ he asked her seriously.
‘No.’ Nancy shook her glossy head thoughtfully. ‘Not at all. You sounded—um—’
‘Paternal?’
No, certainly not paternal! ‘More avuncular,’ she prevaricated, looking up gratefully as the door of the surgery opened and in walked one of the receptionists with a tray of coffee.
Callum immediately took the tray from the receptionist and cleared a space for it on his desk, before introducing them. ‘Margaret, this is Nancy Greenwood, my new GP registrar.’
‘Hello, Dr Greenwood,’ said Margaret, giving Nancy a wide and friendly smile. ‘I hope you’ll be very happy during your time with us.’
‘And why wouldn’t she be?’ queried Callum teasingly. ‘We’ve a very happy practice.’
Margaret pulled an expressive he-must-be-joking sort of face, exclusively for Nancy’s benefit, and left them to it.
Callum poured their coffee. ‘How do you take it?’ he asked, glancing up.’
‘As it comes, please,’ answered Nancy.
He handed her a steaming cup of black and unsugared coffee. ‘No wonder you’re so tiny,’ he commented, as he added both cream and sugar to his own and offered her a biscuit.
And he didn’t look at all bad on cream and sugar, Nancy found herself thinking, accepting a chocolate digestive as her stomach reminded her that she had rushed out of the house without eating any breakfast. Not an ounce of surplus fat anywhere, by the look of him. ‘I’m strong for my size,’ she defended.
‘I’m sure you are.’ Callum drank his coffee, then put down his empty cup and leaned back in his chair to look at her, trying to view her simply as a colleague—and a married colleague, to boot—instead of as a very attractive young woman. And it wasn’t easy, he discovered, but he was at a loss to understand why. Not easy at all. ‘So, where do we begin, Nancy Greenwood?’ he asked gruffly.
‘At the beginning?’ she joked, wondering just what had made his green eyes grow so serious.
He nodded. ‘OK. The beginning it is. We’d better begin with the district itself. How much to you know about Purbrook and the surrounding area?’
‘Very little,’ responded Nancy truthfully. ‘We only moved into the area a month ago.’
We. The possessive word produced an inexplicably sour taste in Callum’s mouth but he hoped that his reaction didn’t show on his face. ‘Yes, of course. You’re married, aren’t you?’
For some absurd reason the question caught her off guard. ‘Yes, I am,’ she answered in a low voice.
‘And where do you live?
‘In Tenterdon,’ she answered, mentioning the picturesque market town which was approximately seven miles away.
He saw her look of bemusement and correctly interpreted it. ‘Don’t worry, Nancy,’ he remarked drily, ‘I’m not planning to turn up on your doorstep at odd times for surprise tutorials!’
‘I’m very pleased to hear it!’ Nancy blanched as she tried to imagine her husband’s reaction if he did!
‘Are you registered with a doctor in Tenterdon, or were you planning to sign on with this practice?’
And risk Callum Hughes ministering to her if she should happen to fall ill? No fear! Nancy shook her head vigorously and stared steadily at the man in front of her. ‘I wasn’t going to, no. I’m perfectly happy where I am.’
Glad to divert his attention from the rather absorbing tawny-brown colour of her eyes, Callum slid open one of the desk drawers, took out a shiny clutch of leaflets and handed them to her.
‘Then you won’t have seen our practice brochure,’ he explained, smiling as he pointed to the stick-like drawing on the front cover of a man covered in lurid red spots. ‘We had a competition amongst all our younger patients for the cover design. The winner had all the delight of seeing her work in print—’
‘Oh, but it’s brilliant!’ she enthused as she took the leaflet from him and stared down to admire the youthful artistry. ‘Absolutely brilliant!’
His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘It is rather good, isn’t it?’
‘And can I keep this?’
‘Of course you can. I sincerely hope you’ll refer to it frequently!’ Callum found himself smiling again as he watched her tuck the papers into a slim leather briefcase.
‘Oh, day and night,’ she promised, and clipped the case shut. ‘It will never leave my side!’
Callum’s eyes twinkled. In his opinion, a sense of humour applied to the working day wasn’t just preferable but necessary. ‘Most of the information given in the brochure about the practice is self-explanatory,’ he told her. ‘We are a semi-rural practice with a list size of just over five thousand patients. You really should become familiar with the geography and social class ecology of the practice area as soon as possible.’
‘Right.’ Nancy made a mental note to do that this very weekend.
‘It’s sensible to have a map of the practice with you at all times,’ he continued, ‘and to begin to become familiar with traffic flow dining weekdays, and in particular at rush hours—although our rush hours are pretty small stuff compared to what inner-city doctors have to contend with.’
‘I bought a map at the weekend,’ said Nancy eagerly.
He smiled at her obvious enthusiasm. ‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘As for the other members of the practice, I have two partners whom you’ll meet later on. One is male and one female and I’ll stagger the introductions as it’s your first day, otherwise you won’t remember anybody! We have a full complement of staff here, with a practice nurse, a district nurse, health visitor, midwife and community psychiatric nurse.’
Nancy nodded. ‘As well as all the usual ancillary staff of receptionists, typists, a bookkeeper and filing clerk, I suppose?’
Callum smiled. ‘For “ancillary” substitute “indispensable”! We would simply be unable to function without efficient receptionists who were firmly on our side. And we’re very much a team here,’ he added quickly.
Now was that an admonishment? Nancy wondered fleetingly. Had word reached him that within seconds of walking into the building she had clumsily been trying to explain an open-ended sentence to one of the receptionists and getting a rather stony-faced response?
But his face was resolutely non-judgemental, and Nancy inwardly reprimanded herself. She was getting paranoid, that was all. Too much criticism at home was making her normally strong sense of self-worth begin to crumble.
‘And a team is what I want to be part of,’ she told him firmly.
Her declaration seemed almost defiant, observed Callum thoughtfully. ‘Good,’ he said briskly. ‘I’ve drawn up a timetable for you, but this is flexible and will change as you grow in confidence.’ He pushed the neat chart across the desk at her, and Nancy