Hot Single Docs: Blinded By The Boss. Amy Andrews

      ‘I didn’t ask. You can find out for yourself. Mercy will tell you.’ Charlotte took a sip of her coffee. ‘She really likes you. Says that you’re kind.’

      ‘Does she?’ The idea seemed to surprise him.

      ‘So what’s wrong with being kind?’ She grinned up at him.

      ‘Nothing. I try to be kind. I’m not as good with people as you are, though.’

      ‘I think you underestimate yourself. Didn’t you see her face when you walked into her room this morning?’

      Either Edward didn’t have an answer to that, or he wasn’t sharing. ‘So what made you cotton on to the name thing?’

      ‘The mother of one of my patients told me, years ago. Apparently it’s quite important which day you were born on in some parts of Africa. I just gave her the information about when Isaac was born to see if she’d pick up on it.’

      Edward nodded. ‘I’ll have to find out a bit more about that...’

      ‘Poor old Archie. He’s not going to have his name changed, is he?’

      ‘I don’t think so. It would probably confuse him. Cats are all instinct and not much brain.’ He took another sip of coffee. ‘So I’ve put a call in to the Head of Neurology. Is there anything else I should know? I’m wondering whether there’s any connection between the seizures that Mercy’s been having and the burst eardrum?’

      ‘I don’t think so. We mainly just talked, but Mercy said that after her parents died she lived with an uncle. I think that was when she was beaten, because she said that her aunt made her deaf.’

      Edward shook his head, staring at his coffee. ‘Someone would have had to hit her pretty hard.’

      ‘Yes. But she was having the seizures before then. So hopefully the two things are unconnected and the seizures aren’t a result of brain damage.’

      She looked up at Edward and he blinked quickly. Took a swig of his coffee, and then wiped his eye.

      ‘Something in your eye?’

      ‘No. Yes, probably.’ Whatever it was it seemed to be a source of embarrassment.

      ‘Want me to take a look?’

      ‘I think I’ll manage.’ He took another mouthful of coffee. ‘These kids... We have to do something...’

      Charlotte laid her hand on his arm. Tried not to think about the way the hard muscle flexed at her touch and to convince herself that this was simple reassurance. ‘You are doing something. You’ve given her back the use of her arm. She knows that, and she says that she’s going to exercise every day.’

      ‘It’s not enough.’

      ‘It’s what we can do.’

      If the other nurses at the clinic could see them now. Edward, impassioned and almost weeping over a patient. Charlotte, resorting to reason and logic. It was so unexpected as to be almost bizarre.

      ‘I know.’ He drained his cup and dropped it into hers, scrunching the two together to make a ball, which he lobbed into the nearest recycling bin. ‘I want you there when Mercy has the EEG, to reassure her that no bad spirits are out to get her. I’ll clear it with Leo.’

      ‘Thanks. And thanks for listening.’

      ‘You were right. You’ve done a really good job here today.’

      His praise meant a lot. More than a lot. Everyone at the clinic knew that Edward’s praise had to be earned. Charlotte felt her cheeks flush with pleasure. ‘Thanks. I’d like to just pop in and say goodbye to her before we go. Tell her that I’ll be back soon.’

      He grinned. ‘Do that. Then I’d better be getting you back to the clinic, or Lizzie will have my hide for kidnapping you.’

CHAPTER NINE

      IT WAS CLEAR when Leo Hunter telephoned to check whether Edward had anything he’d like to raise at this afternoon’s review meeting that he was not expecting him to attend. Leo knew him well enough to understand that Edward’s pledge to support the new charity arm of the Hunter Clinic was on the level of research, operating procedures and maintaining clinical excellence. It didn’t involve attending meetings which didn’t deal with those goals.

      The usual procedure was that Leo informed him that a meeting was taking place, more as a gesture of courtesy than anything else, and Edward tendered his apologies and read the minutes when they were circulated. That had always worked perfectly.

      ‘You mean you’re considering some research?’ Leo’s voice sounded perplexed.

      ‘No, not really. Well, maybe if something presents itself. I’m just interested in how we can help these kids outside of simply giving them the medical treatment they need.’

      There was a pause and Edward shook the handset of his phone, wondering if the line had suddenly gone dead, before realising that Leo was just taking his time in getting his head around the proposition. Edward’s forte had always been in the operating theatre, making clinical decisions and implementing them. That was his skillset. He usually left community issues to someone else.

      ‘I’ll see you later, then.’ Leo still sounded a bit suspicious. ‘We’ve had to move the time from four o’clock to six, in order to fit in with the operating schedules.’

      Edward’s heart sank. Six o’clock. He’d been to his share of these meetings, and they were renowned for going on until late into the night. Usually he’d be the last to object, but tonight... Actually, he wasn’t doing anything tonight. But he’d been rather looking forward to doing nothing with Charlotte and Isaac.

      All the same, he’d just asked for this and it seemed grudging to turn it down now. ‘I’m free at six. I’ll see you then.’

      * * *

      Edward got home at ten o’ clock. Isaac was already in bed, and he hadn’t expected to have a meal waiting for him, but within moments of him depositing the armful of papers that he’d brought home onto the hall table Charlotte was calling him into the kitchen

      ‘Is that enough?’ She surveyed the full plate, with three different kinds of salad and a large slice of home-made quiche.

      ‘Are you mad? You obviously don’t have any idea what I usually manage to feed myself when I get home late.’

      His diet was relatively balanced, and usually healthy, but when Edward was busy cooking didn’t figure much in the equation.

      She dismissed his customary eating habits with a small sniff and walked over to the fridge. ‘Would you like some juice? Or there’s some of that sparkling fruit cordial left over.’

      ‘I’ll have a glass of wine, if you’ll join me.’ Edward put his knife and fork down and got to his feet.

      ‘Stay there. I’ll get it.’ She walked to the wine cooler and opened the glass door, her hand hovering over the rows of bottles.

      ‘That one...’ Edward indicated a light, fruity white, and nodded when she pulled it out, holding it up so he could see the label.

      He was beginning to see what his father saw in marriage. Not the meal on the table, or the fact that the lights were on in the house, but just that there was someone there. Someone to share the little things with—eating and drinking. Someone to talk to. Somehow the fact that Isaac was asleep upstairs and Charlotte was relaxing here downstairs gave Edward an immense feeling of well-being.

      ‘I’ve got some treacle tart for afters.’ She took a dish out of the fridge and put it into the oven to warm, then carried the bottle over to the table.

      ‘Mmm. I love treacle tart. I haven’t had it in years. And this quiche is really good, thank you.’