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Rhuaridh sat back in his chair. He was stunned. He’d kind of thought the TV show would only be shown in other countries—not this one. He hadn’t expected people he met to have seen it. And he wasn’t happy they’d shown the events at John Henderson’s house.
The old woman sat back and folded her hands in her lap. ‘Mind you, you brought a tear to my eye when you took Mac home with you. How is he, anyway? You didn’t answer.’
It was almost like he was being told off. It seemed that parts of his life were now open to public view and scrutiny. Part of him wanted to see the episode—to check it didn’t betray John Henderson’s memory. But part of him dreaded to see himself on screen. It seemed like he might not have done himself any favours. His insides cringed. ‘Mac’s good,’ he said on autopilot as his brain continued to whirl. ‘He’s settled in well.’
The old woman gave another tut and looked at him as though he didn’t really know what he was doing. ‘Well, are you going to write me a prescription or not? Erythromycin, please. It always works best.’
Rhuaridh picked up his prescription pad and pen. This was going to be a long, long day.
* * *
The boat was packed to the brim. There was literally not a single seat to be had, and it was lucky someone at the production company had pre-booked their car space and their rental. ‘What is it?’ said Gerry. ‘Has the whole of mainland Scotland decided to visit the island at once?’
‘Feels like it,’ muttered Kristie as she was jostled by a crowd of holidaymakers. At least the sun was high in the sky and she’d remembered to take her sea sickness tablets.
She leaned on the rail as the ferry started to dock. ‘The reception’s been good hasn’t it?’
Gerry nodded. ‘I’ve not seen this much excitement in a while. And once they’ve seen the second episode? I think people will go crazy.’
Kristie blew out a long breath. The next episode was due to air in a few weeks. It was ironic really. The first episode had been all about death, and now the second was all about life. They’d improvised. Once they’d left the island, instead of heading straight back to Glasgow airport, they’d driven to the local maternity unit where they’d got Magda’s permission to capture a scene with a beautiful healthy baby girl and two relieved, smiling parents. Even Kristie couldn’t hide the tears at that point. But it had captured the story perfectly, and would give the viewers the happy ending they would all crave.
‘What about me?’ she asked Gerry. ‘And what about him, what if he sees me saying I hate him?’ Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. The producer had insisted on keeping all those elements in, saying the dynamics between her and Rhuaridh Gillespie were TV gold.
Gerry waved his hand as the gangplank was lowered and people started filing off the boat. ‘I doubt he’s seen it. And if he has? Too bad.’
They made their way down to the car. The car storage area was hot and claustrophobic. Gerry shrugged off his jacket and tugged at his shirt. ‘You okay?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Just get me out into the fresh air.’
The plans were a little different this time. They’d agreed to focus more on Rhuaridh’s role at the hospital rather than his role at the GP surgery. It seemed harsh, but if they hadn’t had the drama with the delivery for the last episode things might have been a little dry.
But for the first day they were going to do some background filming around the hospital. Kristie wasn’t sure how that would work out. Or how interesting it would be. At least this time she felt a little prepared and didn’t dread it quite so much.
But she shouldn’t have worried. The seventeen patients in the cottage hospital were delighted to see her and participate in the filming. She met an army war veteran who had dozens of naughty stories that had her wiping tears from her eyes. She met a young girl who was in the midst of cancer treatment who’d come down with an infection and was bribing the hospital kitchen staff to make her chocolate pancakes. She interviewed the hospital porter, who was eighty and refused to retire. She met a biker who’d come off his bike and fractured his femur. But he’d timed it just as a visiting orthopaedic consultant was doing his monthly clinic on Arran, so had had his surgery performed in the equipped theatre a few hours later.
