LITMIR.BIZ

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      ‘I could call an ambulance.’ Judy Greene was behind the reception desk.

      ‘No need.’

      Jack Greene got to his feet. Slowly. He did look peaky, Sophie realised. Maybe she’d just got used to how tired he always looked these days and hadn’t noticed that his colour wasn’t so great, either. So pale it was almost grey. He was pushing himself too hard. Working himself into an early grave?

      ‘But I want an ambulance,’ Toby sobbed. ‘With a siren.’

      It was Sophie’s turn to crouch and be on eye level with the seven-year-old. ‘Toby…you’re a big boy now. You know that it’s important that an ambulance is only called for really serious emergencies, don’t you?’

      ‘But…but I’ve broke my arm. Again…’

      ‘I know.’ Sophie’s tone was full of sympathy. She flicked a swift glance up at her father, who gave a single nod.

      ‘Baselines are all good. Simple FOOSH.’

      A fall on an outstretched hand. The sort that often happened when you fell off your skateboard or out of a tree, as young Toby already knew. He had broken his left wrist last year. This time it was his right. But, if his baselines were good, that meant there was no danger of losing hand function from a compromised blood supply or nerve damage. In any case, Sophie knew she could make him a lot more comfortable with a good splint and some paracetamol, and it would actually be quicker for his mother to take him to the nearest emergency department. Even if there was an ambulance available instantly, it was at least twenty minutes away. Thirty, if there was any traffic or the threatening storm broke.

      ‘I’m going to give you a lovely splint that will help your arm stay very still and not hurt so much.’

      ‘And I’m going to drive you to the hospital,’ his mum added firmly. ‘Otherwise, how are we going to get home? Daddy can’t just turn his boat around to come and get us, you know. And a taxi would cost the earth. About as much as that new game you want for your computer, I reckon, and which one of those would you rather have?’

      Reluctantly, Toby followed Sophie, who sent an apologetic glance to people still waiting. Emergencies played havoc with queues but everybody knew that. Old Mr Dobson was getting to his feet.

      ‘I can come back tomorrow if I need to,’ he said. ‘It’s probably nothing a bit of cod liver oil can’t fix.’

      Maureen and Jim were heading for the door, too, but Maureen paused to touch Jack Greene’s hand.

      ‘I just wanted to say that your Sophie’s a credit to you,’ she said. ‘We’re so lucky to have the next generation of wonderful doctors here in North Cove.’

      ‘Thanks, Maureen.’ But Jack didn’t smile as he gazed around the room. ‘Who’s next, then?’

      There was a painful-looking nappy rash on a baby, an adult with a rash and a terrible headache that was probably the early signs of a dose of shingles. Another patient had chest pain and had to jump the queue, but it was easily resolved with a spray of medication. The twelve-lead ECG Sophie took was reassuringly normal as well.

      ‘It’s not a heart attack, Colin. You need to use your spray as soon as it happens next time, not wait for me to give it to you. You know it comes on when you start moving furniture around, don’t you?’

      ‘I don’t like using stuff unless I really need to. And I was right next door.’

      ‘Get those young lads of yours to do the heavy lifting from now on. And, if you start getting pain more often, or when you’re just sitting around, let me know. I’m also going to book you in for some more tests at the next cardiology clinic at the hospital.’

      The door opened before Colin could touch the handle.

      ‘Sophie? Could you come, please? Now?’

      Sophie’s heart sank. Her mother was a very experienced and calm nurse. She had never seen a look of fear in her eyes like this.

      She raced into the adjoining room after her mother. Was her dad having a crisis with one of his patients? A cardiac arrest, maybe?

      But Jack was alone in the room.

      Slumped over his desk.

      ‘Dad?’ Sophie was by his side in an instant, her hand on his wrist. ‘Can you hear me? What’s happened?’

      She could feel a pulse, thank goodness. A bit faint, maybe, but it was steady.

      And her father responded with a groan as he pushed himself upright. ‘I’m fine,’ he growled. ‘Just a bit of a dizzy spell. Stop making a fuss.’

      ‘Did you eat lunch?’ Judy demanded.

      ‘Don’t move,’ Sophie ordered. ‘I’m going to take your blood pressure.’ She unbuttoned his cuff, pushed the shirt sleeve up and wrapped the cuff around his upper arm. ‘Any other symptoms? Are you feeling nauseated? Any chest pain?’

      ‘No. And no.’ Jack sighed. ‘And no, I didn’t have time for lunch. My house calls turned out to be a bit more complicated than usual.’

      ‘Your blood pressure’s a bit low,’ Sophie said, releasing the valve. ‘One ten over sixty. I’m not surprised you felt faint. Now, where’s your blood glucose kit?’

      His blood glucose level was on the low side as well.

      ‘At least I haven’t got diabetes.’ Jack pushed his chair back. ‘Now, will you two let me get on with my work?’ He got to his feet but then closed his eyes and raised his hand to rub at his forehead.

      ‘Headache?’ Sophie was watching him intently. ‘Still dizzy?’

      ‘I just need a cup of tea. And a paracetamol. Go away, Soph. You’ve got patients waiting.’

      ‘We’re almost done. Mum, take him home, will you? Give him something to eat and make him rest. I’ll have a good look at him as soon as I get back.’

      It was only a short walk through the car parking space at the back of the clinic to the gate in the fence that led to the house Sophie had grown up in. Hopefully nobody would notice because otherwise the whole village would be alarmed that there was something seriously wrong with their beloved GP. It was probably nothing more than the fact that he’d forgotten to eat, on top of being a bit run down, but the way that her father had agreed to the plan with minimal grouching was enough to make Sophie even more worried.

      Something had to be done about reducing his work load. Soon.

      Her last patient of the day had deliberately been given the final appointment because she’d known she couldn’t put a time limit on this one.

      Shirley needed to talk as much as she needed any review on whether her medication was helping.

      ‘I’m still not sleeping properly. And I still burst into tears all over the place. It’s embarrassing. It happened in the supermarket the other day, when I saw the cans of baked beans.’ Shirley fished in her handbag for her handkerchief. ‘It’s was Bob’s favourite tea…baked beans on toast…with a poached egg on top…’

      Sophie was sitting alongside her patient this time. It meant that she could give the hand she was holding a squeeze.

      ‘I know. It’s hard. So hard…’

      Shirley sniffed and nodded. ‘I know you know, dear. That’s why it’s so good to talk to you. You had such a tough time after your Matthew passed away. We were all so worried about you, what with you losing the baby and all…’

      Even after five years, the pain was still there, wasn’t it? Not crippling now, though. More like a simple sadness, but one that could still squeeze her heart hard enough to be painful sometimes. At least she’d become an expert in pushing it into a place that she rarely chose to visit.

      ‘I’m

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