The Doctor, His Daughter And Me
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‘I’ll introduce you to the mob, and then you can eat …’ his grin broadened ‘… and mingle.’
Rob reeled off a long list of names Ryan would never remember to associate with the endless stream of nodding, smiling faces. Then, his gaze automatically following his colleague’s, he turned, and it was as if the waters parted. People moved out of the way as Tara wheeled herself into the room with a barely suppressed scowl on her face and rosy colour in her cheeks.
‘And last but not least …’ Rob said, resting his hand lightly on Tara’s shoulder. ‘Dr Tara Fielding.’ He glanced at Ryan. ‘This is Ryan Dennison, our new visiting orthopaedic surgeon.’
Thank God Tara had reverted to her maiden name, averting a possible problem he hadn’t thought of until now.
At that moment Rob’s attention was taken by the timely arrival of Karin Hooper, the new paediatrician. Rob began the introduction ritual all over again, and Ryan was grateful the spotlight had moved away from him and Tara, who was still right next to him, waiting for her turn in the short queue for the food. She reluctantly shook his offered hand as he leaned over to talk to her.
‘I’m glad to finally meet you, Dr Fielding. I’ve heard so much about you.’ It was an attempt at humour to lighten Tara’s mood but he wasn’t sure if it had worked.
She answered him with a cool smile as she released his hand from a momentary grip of steel.
‘Ouch,’ he couldn’t help exclaiming.
‘Sorry.’ She was grinning now but still looked tense … guarded. ‘Sometimes I forget my own strength.’ She picked up two plates and handed one to Ryan, who promptly discarded the fleeting thought of offering to serve her food. He had much to learn.
‘How has your day been so far? Not too snowed under with Keysdale’s unique brand of orthopaedic problems?’ It was inconsequential small talk.
He laughed politely. ‘You mean crush fractures from being stepped on by livestock and strain injuries from overdosing on fencing?’
‘You’ve got the idea.’
While he was talking Ryan watched in wonder as Tara effortlessly multi-tasked, deftly moving her chair into impossibly small spaces while at the same time loading her plate with enough to feed a professional athlete.
She paused a moment and looked at his empty plate.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’ she asked.
‘Oh … er … yes.’ He stuttered his reply, not prepared to admit he’d been too busy watching her. After shouldering his way through the tightly packed occupants of the small lunch room, he began to select food from the abundance before him. By the time he’d filled his plate Tara had moved to the other side of the room and was deep in conversation with a woman he remembered, from her name tag, was a physiotherapist.
Balancing his plate in one hand, he headed in Tara’s direction but was stopped midway by a tap on his shoulder. He turned.
‘Sorry to desert you,’ Rob Whelan said amiably. ‘I wanted to have a word with you about the possibility of you doing some extra consulting—maybe on the Saturday mornings you’re not operating?’
If Ryan’s appointment book was anything to go by, the services of an orthopaedic surgeon in the town were desperately needed, but he was over-committed as it was.
‘I’m sorry, I’m on call at St Joseph’s one weekend in four, and …’ He hesitated, deciding whether Rob, a relative stranger, needed to know about the custody arrangements he had for access to his daughter. As it was, he only saw her one weekend a month, and that time was precious.
If things had been different … He sighed.
‘And?’ Rob raised his eyebrows, as if he sensed Ryan’s discomfort but his curiosity overrode tact. Maybe it was the country way—that everyone had a God-given right to know everyone else’s business. But it wasn’t Ryan’s way.
‘I have regular family commitments on most of my free weekends.’ His use of the word free was somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but the vague comment was all he was prepared to give at the moment. ‘And I think you’ll find things will settle down in a month or two, once I work through the backlog of referrals and start seeing follow-ups.’
Rob rubbed his chin and pressed his mouth into a thin line.
‘I thought as much.’ The older doctor’s grin reappeared. ‘But, you know, if your situation changes the offer stands.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
At that moment Ryan noticed Tara heading off, and he wanted to talk to her. He felt oddly jilted. But he didn’t have any claim on what she did.
‘If you’ll excuse me, I just want to …’ His voice trailed off as one of the other GPs in the practice cornered Rob Whelan and let Ryan off the hook. Ryan dumped his barely touched food onto the table to follow Tara, but she’d vanished in the space of a few seconds. He went in pursuit and found her room off the corridor leading to Reception.
He knocked quietly but there was no response.
Maybe she hadn’t gone back to her room.
He knocked again, a little louder.
‘Tara?’ He opened the door but her spacious office was empty. He glanced around and noted the modifications that had been made because of Tara’s disability. Shelves and cupboards were no higher than shoulder-height. There were two patients’ chairs but a notable absence of a seat for the doctor. The examination couch was also low, and the pedal that raised or lowered the bed had been modified to accommodate hand controls similar to those used for hospital beds. In fact just about everything in the room was reachable from a wheelchair.