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CHAPTER ONE
‘PLEASE, Mrs Lambert,’ Lucy coaxed gently, ‘just try it for me?’
‘But I’ve hardly any breath now, dear,’ the old lady wheezed. ‘How can I possibly puff into that? It’ll kill me!’
Lucy held the peak-flow meter and smiled. ‘Just breathe in and then blow out sharply, like this…’ She gave a quick demonstration and changed the mouthpiece. ‘Now you have a go.’
‘But why?’ Mrs Lambert took the device from Lucy and looked at it doubtfully. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘This little machine helps us to measure how well your lungs are.’ Lucy explained patiently, nothing in her manner betraying the fact that this was the fourth time she’d given the same explanation to the old woman.
‘Oh.’ Mrs Lambert looked surprised. ‘Well, why didn’t you say so before?’
Lucy smothered a smile and pulled the top off her pen ready to record the results. ‘Blow when you’re ready, Mrs Lambert.’
Behind her the door opened and she turned to see Richard Whittaker, the senior partner, hovering in the doorway. Grey-haired and kindly, he looked at Mrs Lambert and gave a discreet thumbs-up sign. Lucy smiled and read the result of the peak-flow meter.
‘Well done, Mrs Lambert,’ she said warmly. ‘Twice more now. I need the best of three.’
‘Three? I’ll be in my grave, girl!’ Mrs Lambert looked horrified and turned to Richard with a small smile. ‘She’s a slave-driver, this new nurse of yours.’
‘I know.’ Richard Whittaker folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door, his expression sympathetic. ‘We all suffer, I’m afraid. She bullies us unmercifully. I should just give in, if I were you. That’s what we doctors do.’
Mrs Lambert gave a dramatic sigh and then blew sharply into the meter.
Lucy recorded the results and handed them to Richard with a pleased smile. ‘They’re not bad. Especially considering all the talking you’ve done since you came in here…’ she gave the old lady a teasing wink and Mrs Lambert laughed.
‘You’re a cheeky girl!’
Richard studied the results and then glanced up. ‘She’s right, you know. These results are good, Annie. We’ve been monitoring them regularly now, which helps us make a decision about your treatment. I don’t think we need alter anything at the moment but make sure you keep using the puffers.’
Annie Lambert’s mouth tightened. ‘I really don’t see why I need to. I feel fine.’
‘You have asthma, Mrs Lambert. You feel fine because you’ve been taking your puffers,’ Lucy explained, and the old lady sighed.
‘It’s a load of nonsense. How can I have asthma? I’m seventy years old, for goodness’ sake. Children get asthma, not adults!’
‘Adults get it too, Annie.’ Richard gave her a worried look. ‘We’ve explained it before, but we’ll explain it again if—’
‘No, no—’ Annie Lambert interrupted him with an impatient gesture. ‘You keep going on about puffers and blowing and all sorts of nonsense. I don’t want to listen to it any more. It’s boring.’
Lucy smiled. ‘It is pretty boring, isn’t it? And the good thing about remembering to take your puffers is that they keep you well so that you can then forget about the fact that you have asthma.’
‘I take the one regularly,’ Annie said primly, picking up her handbag and slipping it onto her arm. ‘And then the other one when I’m in a spot of trouble, but I must admit I feel pretty breathless sometimes.’
‘That’s as much your heart condition as your asthma,’ Richard explained gently, handing the chart back to Lucy. ‘We’ve increased the dose of your tablets now, so hopefully that should do the trick.’
‘I hope so,’ Annie said, her smile slightly tired, ‘or there’s no way I’ll be running the marathon next year.’
‘You’ll be the first over the finishing line,’ Lucy teased gently, her eyes twinkling as she helped the old lady into the waiting room. ‘Bye, Mrs Lambert. I’ll see you next month unless you need me before that.’
She walked back to the treatment room, surprised to find Richard still there.
‘She’s doing well, isn’t she?’ She pulled the mouthpiece out of the peak-flow meter and tossed it in the bin, carefully placing the device back on her asthma tray ready for the next time it would be needed.
Richard adjusted his metal-rimmed glasses and nodded. ‘Amazingly so. You’re a miracle-worker. I could never persuade her to blow into “that infernal machine”, as she calls it. Your asthma clinic works a treat.’
Lucy smiled briefly, embarrassed by the praise. ‘It’s only because I have more time than you.’
Richard snorted. ‘No, it’s not! Sometimes I think you’re the busiest person in the place. You’ve got the touch, that’s all,’ he said softly, his eyes suddenly searching as he looked at her. ‘But I didn’t really want to talk about Annie Lambert. I wanted to talk about you. You’ve been with us for a month now. I want to know how you are.’
Lucy gave him a grateful smile. ‘I’m fine,’ she said quietly, touched that he cared enough to ask.
‘Fine?’ Richard gave a curious smile and walked across the room to stare out of the window. ‘Do you know, I’ve decided over the years that I hate that word?’ he observed. ‘It doesn’t say anything about how a person is really feeling.’
Lucy stared at him, wondering what else to say.
She certainly couldn’t tell him the truth. That deep inside she hurt so badly she could barely breathe. That she was lonely and sad and that sometimes her fear of the future was so intense it threatened to choke her.
She’d felt that way for a whole year, ever since—
With a sigh, she pushed the memories away. She’d long since made it a rule not to think about her problems at work, but if the senior partner was asking how she was then maybe she wasn’t doing such a great job at hiding her feelings.
