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She had thought quite often recently about what would happen if he stopped work; there was no use trying to pretend or to avoid acknowledging that if Richard did retire it would change her life as well as his own.
In the early days of their marriage she had always put Richard and his needs, the needs of his career first—girls and young women had done that in those days—and then her daughter had been born and her needs too had seemed more important than her own.
But things… life had changed. She wasn’t that same young woman any more. She was enjoying the excitement of discovering how far she could push herself, how much she could achieve, how her mind, her brain was enjoying the feeling of being stretched and used in much the same way as her muscles did after a good exercise class… She was thriving on the challenges she was being offered far too much to give it all up and to stay at home now and help nurse Richard’s bruised ego… to comfort him in his self-inflicted self-pity… No, she couldn’t…
Quickly she turned her head away, not wanting Richard to see her expression. How often had she counselled other women that it was healthy and good for them to be selfish sometimes, to put themselves and their own needs first; that their respect for themselves engendered respect in others?
Giving such advice was one thing… acting on it was another… ‘Richard, have you thought of having a word with… with someone about how you feel about retiring…?’ she suggested quietly.
She saw immediately that she had said the wrong thing. ‘For God’s sake Liz, you might have been brainwashed into believing that counselling is an instant cure for everything… Try telling that to someone who’s suffering from a perforated ulcer or a malignant cancer,’ he told her sourly.
Elizabeth paused, tempted to point out the ineffectiveness of the evasive and defensive tactics he was adopting, but putting him in the wrong and trying to make him acknowledge what he was doing was hardly likely to help.
‘I’m beginning to wish I’d never brought the subject up in the first place,’ he continued testily. ‘Just because I don’t feel that I’m ready to retire, and that I’m being forced into it, it doesn’t automatically make me a candidate for the shrink’s couch.’
Guiltily Richard avoided meeting Elizabeth’s eyes. He knew that he was over-reacting, but even the very mention of the word ‘retirement’ had become like touching a raw nerve, his body so sensitive to the anticipated pain that it reacted almost before that nerve was touched.
And besides, what could counselling tell him that he didn’t already know himself? That his fear of retirement represented a very male fear of no longer commanding respect, being needed, having a defined role to play, being in control of life? And what the hell good would that do him?
* * *
‘And this, Minister, is Mr Humphries, our senior surgeon.’
‘Mr Humphries.’ The Minister extended her hand towards Richard with a warm smile. ‘I’ve been hearing and reading some very good things about you. It’s a very welcome change to see us getting some good publicity for once, and to know that our senior people are so open to exploring new avenues of healing, especially when they’re connected with such an important issue as women’s health,’ she told Richard approvingly.
At the Minister’s side, Richard could see David frowning as he tried to edge her away from him.
‘I understand that you were the initial instigator of the plan to open an Accident Unit locally, and that you’ve been one of the prime campaigners to raise funds towards it, and arouse local interest.’
‘The new motorway links opened locally have meant that we’re seeing far more road accident cases than we used to,’ Richard replied. ‘It’s a proven fact that the victims of these accidents stand a far better chance of surviving if their injuries are dealt with immediately by experienced staff… staff who are trained to recognise the nature of their injuries and how to deal with them. And of course we’re not just talking about when they actually reach hospital,’ Richard told her, warming to his theme. ‘Medical teams in the ambulances——’
‘Thank you, Richard,’ David cut in testily, glaring at him. ‘But I’m sure the Minister doesn’t need a lecture from you on…’
‘On the contrary,’ the Minister stopped David smoothly. ‘I consider it part of my remit, and certainly my responsibility, to be as well-informed as I can.’
Richard could see that David was growing increasingly impatient.
‘Er—I don’t wish to rush you, Minister,’ he started saying, ‘but if I could just introduce you to our newly appointed psychiatrist, Mr…’
‘Blake!’ the Minister exclaimed warmly as she turned round. Ignoring his outstretched hand, she clasped Blake Hamilton warmly by the forearms.
‘Minister,’ Richard heard Blake responding formally.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she demanded, ignoring his attempt at formality. ‘I thought you’d gone back to Johns Hopkins…’
‘I did,’ Blake confirmed. ‘But… I had to come back for personal reasons.’
‘And you’re working here?’ she asked him, her eyebrows lifting a little.
‘like Richard, I believe that the future lies in treating the patients as a whole, not as a variety of different needs.’
‘So… you and… Mr Humphries would be working together in the new unit,’ she commented thoughtfully. She frowned as she looked at David. ‘I didn’t read any mention of this in your last report, Mr Howarth?’
‘Er… we hadn’t quite finalised our plans then,’ David told her.
His colour was unusually high, Richard noticed, both with temper and mortification, but he made no attempt to challenge what Blake had said.
‘Of course initially it will mean some extra expense,’ Blake was adding quietly. ‘And we all appreciate the difficult situation the Health Service is in, with so many calls upon its finances, but from my work at Johns Hopkins I know that early counselling not only aids the patients’ speed of recovery but also ultimately is cost-effective, in that the counselling itself is far more effective in the early days after the trauma.’
