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The words seem to hang between them, as if she was willing him to add something else. But he gave a quick nod. ‘Sure.’
Kristie broke into a jog back down the beach. He couldn’t help but stare at her silhouette. Mac bounded up and sat at his feet, looking up at him quizzically.
If there was mental telepathy between a human and a dog, Mac was currently calling him an idiot.
He kicked the sand at his feet. ‘I know, I know,’ he said as he shook his head and stuck his hands in his pockets.
He pushed his thoughts from his head. She was from LA. She worked on a TV show. He was crazy to think she might actually be interested in some guy from Arran. His ex had been quick to tell him that Arran was a dull, boring rock in the middle of nowhere. What could it possibly have to interest some woman who was probably two minutes from Hollywood? He stared out as the sun drew even closer to the horizon, sending warming streaks across the sky. He sighed. ‘Let’s go, Mac,’ he said as he turned and headed back to the cottage.
* * *
Kristie dressed carefully. For the first time since she’d come to the island she wore a dress. It was still summer here—even though it was much cooler than LA. Her hair didn’t usually give her much trouble, so she just ran a brush through it as usual. Her makeup took her no more than five minutes. She’d even applied it once in a dark cupboard with no light.
Gerry gave her a smile as she emerged from her room in their rental. ‘Special occasion?’
She shook her head, and pretended she didn’t notice the rush of heat to her cheeks. What on earth was she doing? Maybe she’d just imagined that moment on the beach. Maybe it had been nothing at all. She’d only wanted to warn him about the hype. Or had she?
Truth was, she never really watched herself on TV much. It seemed too egotistical. But watching the episode between her and Rhuaridh had brought all those emotions back to the surface. She couldn’t ever remember a guy getting under her skin the way Rhuaridh Gillespie had. And on the way over on the ferry this time she’d been nervous. Something else that was unusual for her.
Maybe it was the apparent popularity of the show. She’d already had a few interview requests. Last night when she’d logged onto her social media account she’d seen over four hundred comments about the show. What would happen when the third show went out?
Gerry was leaning against the wall. He looked paler than normal. ‘Okay?’ she asked.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Just a bit of indigestion. It’s my age.’
She gave a nod and headed to the stairs. They were filming at the surgery today, covering one of the paediatric clinics and immunisation clinics.
Screaming babies. Just her kind of thing. Not.
Gerry fumbled in his pocket and some lollipops landed on the floor. Kristie bent and picked them up. ‘Since when did you like candy?’
He tapped the side of his nose. ‘It’s my secret weapon. It’s in case we have unco-operative kids at the clinic today.’
She shook her head and held up one of the bright red lollipops. ‘It’s a pure sugar rush. No way will they let you hand these out. Think of the tooth decay.’
He winked. ‘I’m wiser than you think. They’re sugar-free.’ He started walking down the stairs in front of her. ‘Don’t let it be said that an old guy doesn’t have any new tricks.’
‘What about the additives?’ She stared at the colour again.
He shrugged in front of her. ‘Can’t think of everything.’
She shook her head and stuck some in the pocket of her dress. She could always eat them herself.
The clinic was chaos. It was a mixture of development checks, immunisations and childhood reviews.
Most of the mothers were delighted at the prospect of their child being filmed, so permissions were easy.
Rhuaridh was wearing a pale pink shirt today and dark trousers. She hated the fact he always looked so handsome. He moved through the waiting room easily, picking up babies and toddlers and carrying them through to the examination room, all while chatting to their mothers. He seemed at ease here. It was as if he’d finally decided to accept they’d be around and was doing what they’d asked him to do right from the beginning—ignore them.
But it made Kristie’s insides twist in a way she didn’t like.
Some of babies squealed. She didn’t blame them, getting three jabs at once was tough. She didn’t have much experience around kids or babies, so watching Ellen, the health visitor, do the development checks was more interesting than she’d thought.
She watched the babies follow things with their eyes, weight bear on their legs, and lift their heads up in line with their bodies. The older ones could grab things, sit up and balance on their own, and babble away quite happily.
Her favourite was a little boy just short of two years old. He came into the room with the biggest frown on his face. When Ellen tried to persuade him to build some bricks, say a few words or draw with a crayon he had the same response to everything. ‘No.’ His mother looked tired and sat with another baby on her lap, apologising profusely for her son’s lack of co-operation.
Ellen took some measurements and laughed and turned to Kristie. ‘As you can see, he has a younger sister. I’ve been in the house a dozen times and know he can do all these things—if he wants to.’
Kristie stopped smiling at the little guy and turned her attention to the mum. She had dark circles under her eyes and looked as if she might burst into tears. Kristie’s first reaction was to open her mouth and move into counselling mode but before she could, Ellen gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head towards Kristie and Gerry, and they backed out of the room.
Kristie stood against the wall for a few minutes and just breathed. She had no idea what was going on with that woman, but her own thoughts immediately raced back to her sister. The last few volunteer shifts on the helpline had been quiet. She’d almost willed the phone to ring, then had felt guilty for thinking that. In the end, she’d used the time in an unexpected way.
She’d started writing. She wasn’t sure what it was at first, but it had started to take shape into a piece of fiction—a novel, based on her experience with her sister and how suicide affected everyone. Her sister’s death had impacted on every part of her life. She’d watched the life drain from her mother and father and their health deteriorate quickly, with them eventually dying within a few months of each other.
Burying three family members in a short period of time had messed with her head so much she found it hard to form new relationships. Hard to find hope to invest in a future that might get snatched away from her. Of course, thoughts like those were irrational. She knew that. But she also knew that the last few men she’d met she’d kept at arm’s length. Whether she’d wanted to or not.
She sighed as the door opened again and Ellen crossed the hall to Rhuaridh’s room with a slip of paper in her hand.
Kristie’s mouth dried as the health visitor took charge of the children, then let the mother go and see Rhuaridh on her own.
She couldn’t help herself but follow Ellen to where she was bouncing the baby on her knee and entertaining the toddler, who’d now decided to draw pictures.
‘Is she okay?’
Ellen looked up. ‘It’s likely she has postnatal depression. We screen all new mums twice in the first year. I’ve visited Jackie at home a lot. She’s had two very colicky babies. Lack of sleep is tough.’
Kristie rubbed her hands up and down her arms, instantly cold. That piece of paper. That assessment that they do on all new mums—why hadn’t there been something like that for her sister? Would it have worked? Would it have picked anything up?
Maybe she was putting hope in something that didn’t exist. But just the thought—that there was a simple screening tool that would have picked up something...
‘Do you use it for other people?’
Ellen loo
ked up. She’d started building a pile of bricks on the floor with the toddler. ‘The postnatal depression scale? No, it’s designed specifically for women who’ve just had a baby. We’ve used it for years, though, and I think it’s very effective. Even if it just starts a conversation between me and the mum.’
‘But you took her through to see Rhuaridh?’
Ellen looked over Kristie’s shoulder. ‘This is very personal. I have to ask that you don’t film anything about this case.’
Kristie nodded. ‘Of course not.’
‘In that case, the final question in the tool—it’s about self-harm. It asks if the mum has ever felt that way. If she answers anything other than no, I always need to have a conversation with the GP.’
Kristie felt her voice shake. ‘So, what do you do for mums who feel like that?’
Ellen gave her a thoughtful look. ‘It all depends on the mum. Some I visit more, every day if I have to. Some I get some other support—like a few hours at nursery for one, or both of their kids. Some Rhuaridh will see. He might decide to start them on some medication, or to refer them to the community mental health nurse, or even to a consultant. Whatever will help the mum most.’
Kristie leaned back against the wall, taking in everything that was being said. The mum was in with Rhuaridh for a while. By the time she came out, she was wiping her eyes but seemed a bit better. It was as if a little spark had appeared in her eyes again. Maybe she finally felt as if someone was listening.
Kristie waited until the clinic was finished then found Rhuaridh while he was writing up some notes.
‘That mum? What did you do for her?’
He looked a little surprised by her question but gestured for her to close the door. ‘Sit down,’ he said.
