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Ian nodded. ‘And then you joined an inner city practice in London. That must have had its stresses.’
Holly’s heart started to race and her smile froze. She’d been careful at the interview not to discuss her reasons for leaving her last job in too much detail, and so she could only murmur an agreement whilst hiding her shaking hands in her napkin.
‘Holly’s a brilliant practice nurse,’ Mark interjected smoothly, his sharp gaze fixed on her pale face. ‘She’s already seen several patients for us today.’
‘Yes, Caroline rang and told me.’ Ian frowned briefly and then smiled. ‘It was very kind of you to step into the breach, Holly.’
‘My pleasure.’
‘Well, I know you’re going to fit in well,’ Ian said cheerfully. ‘And I can see just how happy and natural the two of you are together. You’re obviously a perfect match. So welcome to Cornwall and Harbour Medical Centre.’
Holly relaxed and smiled in response, and her eyes met Mark’s. He was looking at her with a warmth and affection that made her heart turn over, even though she knew he was just acting.
What would it be like to have a man look like that at you and mean it? Especially a man like Mark?
Flustered, she glanced back at Ian, thinking again what a nice man he was. Slightly overweight, in his late fifties, Holly guessed, he was cheerful and solid and she was sure he’d be an excellent senior partner. She could see now why Mark was so attached to this place. It was wonderful. And she could see why he was so desperate to sort out the problem of Caroline. But was this ever going to work? Could she be convincing?
CHAPTER THREE
TO HOLLY’S relief, Caroline had the first part of the week off, which gave her a chance to settle in and get to know the other members of the team without worrying about her relationship with the other woman. She was relieved to find that things were run along similar lines to her old practice, which meant that, professionally at least, she felt confident.
On a personal basis she felt anything but confident. In front of his colleagues Mark treated her with total professionalism combined with a hint of warmth which suggested a more intimate relationship, and at home he was the same Mark she’d always known. In fact, she couldn’t fault him—so why did being around him make her so nervous?
Despite her qualms the week flew by, and after lunch on Thursday Holly prepared for her first immunisation clinic.
‘We generally have a very good turnout on both a Thursday and a Friday.’ Debra Flint, the health visitor, was busy checking the list. ‘Oh, good, little baby Watts is due for his first lot of jabs today. I’m worried about Mum, to be honest, so I’ll be pleased if she turns up. She seems very depressed.’
‘Is it her first baby?’ Holly checked through the fridge for the various vaccines.
‘Yes, and she’s been very low, but she had an awful delivery so that’s hardly surprising.’ Debra frowned. ‘I must talk to Mark about it because he was the one that referred her back to the hospital.’
Holly began to sort out some ‘certificates of bravery’ which were always helpful for the older children. ‘What happened?’
‘Well, she had a forceps delivery which went wrong and her bowel was perforated. Very nasty.’ Debra fiddled with her pen thoughtfully. ‘I have to say that the hospital was pretty hopeless. Mark was the one who diagnosed the problem in the end. You wouldn’t believe what he said to the hospital! Let’s just say he didn’t mince his words and they sorted the problem out pretty sharpish.’
Holly gave a short laugh. ‘I can imagine.’
‘Well, of course you can, how silly of me.’ Debra gave her an apologetic smile. ‘You’re engaged to him, for goodness’ sake. You know better than anyone that he doesn’t tolerate sloppiness. He’s one of the brightest, most thorough doctors I’ve ever worked with. You’re a lucky girl.’
Holly blushed slightly. ‘Oh—Yes, I know.’
Oh, help! She hoped Debra didn’t want a sisterly chat about her relationship with Mark.
‘Anyway, Anna Watts has been pretty down ever since the birth.’
Holly frowned. ‘Isn’t there a questionnaire you use to diagnose postnatal depression—the Edinburgh scale or something?’
‘The Edinburgh postnatal depression scale, that’s right.’ Debra tucked her pen back in the pocket of her blouse. ‘She refused to do it last time I saw her and she hasn’t been to clinic since. I can’t seem to get near her to develop a relationship, although fortunately Mark saw a lot of her when she delivered eight weeks ago. She does seem to trust him, which is good. But all the same I’m relieved to see her name on the list today. It’ll give me a chance to have a chat with her.’
Tina, one of the receptionists, popped her head round the door. ‘The waiting room is like a nursery and the children are driving us mad. Are you ready to start?’
Debra grinned. ‘Let battle commence!’
For the next two hours Holly was kept busy, reassuring anxious mothers, soothing screaming babies and giving various immunisations according to the age of the child.
One mother in particular, Sylvia Bates, was very anxious about her thirteen-month-old daughter having the measles, mumps and rubella injection.
‘I’ve read such awful things about MMR,’ she confessed. ‘If I have her done and she’s damaged in some way I’ll never forgive myself. I don’t know what to do.’
