But Stephanie was a normally, healthy eight-year-old who’d only been ill for twelve hours. This was not a complicated anaesthetic. There was time to watch Fergus operate, to see the skill in his fingers, to think that he couldn’t be expected to stay here.

With a skill like this, he should be a city surgeon.

So what was she about, wanting him to stay here?

She didn’t want him to stay here.

She didn’t want to stay here herself. But she would. Madison needed her. The dogs needed her.

She needed to be needed.

‘Oscar’s heard you’ve taken his dogs.’ Mary, the nurse assisting Fergus, handed Fergus his threaded needle. The cleaning was finished and Fergus was starting to close. The nurse went back to swabbing to keep the site clear of blood but she was relaxed enough now to talk to Ginny. Mary was an older nurse than Miriam, another farmer’s wife. Her farm was just north of Oscar’s. ‘He’s telling everyone it’s theft and he’s talking about having you arrested,’ she said.

‘He’s angry about everything,’ Fergus muttered, concentrating on stitching. ‘The man’s perpetually twisted. You want me to kick him out of the nursing home and tell him to go and look after his dogs himself?’

‘He’d die,’ Ginny said, but there was a certain amount of reluctance in her voice. Fergus glanced up at her.

‘And you wouldn’t be sorry?’

‘I’m always sorry when patients pass on,’ she said, and made her voice prim. ‘But those dogs have been starved and beaten. It’s a wonder the whole six of them aren’t savage.’

‘He’s not happy in the nursing home,’ Mary said, threading the next needle.

‘Tell me where he would be happy.’

‘He’s never had a family,’ Mary said. ‘What he needed was a wife and six kids. Instead, he’s just sat in that farmhouse and thought about the injustices of the world. Until he’s come to this.’

That caused a bit of an extended silence where Mary appeared to think about what she’d said.

‘I mean, there’s nothing wrong with not being married,’ she said at last, a trifle self-consciously. ‘I dare say you two will turn out to be very nice people.’

Fergus grinned. ‘Not me. I’m into injustices. Like Ginny being arrested for taking on the care of three starved dogs. That could get me bitter and twisted in no time.’

‘Then you’ll be carted off to a nursing home, kicking and screaming,’ Ginny retorted. ‘Any minute now. Get yourself some encumbrances.’

‘There’s three of Oscar’s dogs left,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe I should take them on.’

‘The ranger put them down this morning,’ Mary said, and all their smiles faded.

‘With Oscar’s permission?’ Fergus asked.

‘Oscar said put them all down,’ Mary told them. ‘Including the ones Ginny has. He’s decided to come into the nursing home and he doesn’t want anyone benefiting from his animals. He’s almost psychotic about being ripped off, so technically Ginny’s guilty of dog-napping.’

‘He’s not happy that she’s saved their lives?’ Fergus demanded, incredulous, and Mary shook her head.

‘I’ll give the man enemas,’ Fergus muttered. ‘Three a day for as long as we both shall live.’

‘You’re only here for another ten weeks,’ Mary reminded him, and he glowered some more.

‘Time enough. That’s seventy by three-two hundred and ten enemas. He’ll crack and sign a promise not to sue before I’m done with him.’

‘He won’t sue,’ Ginny said. ‘The man’s all bluster. I’m not frightened of him.’

‘You used to be,’ Mary retorted. ‘He and your mother…that’s an old story that Oscar will never let drop. There was a story went round the town when you were about eight-that Oscar berated your mother and you stood up for her. And he belted you. My uncle was the town policeman at the time and I remember him being livid that your mother wouldn’t press charges.’

‘He hit you?’ Fergus demanded. He was concentrating on the job at hand, but it was merely dressing now and there was room for rage.

‘He hit lots of things in his time,’ Mary said equitably. ‘But look at him now. Alone in a nursing home with his very own doctor threatening to give him enemas.’

‘Which I’ll thank you not to give him,’ Ginny said equitably. ‘That’s all in the past now.’

‘You’ve moved on.’

‘As of last night I have-Doctor,’ she said meekly, and both Mary and Fergus stared at her.

‘You want me to reverse my anaesthetic?’ she asked, and they were back into medical mode again. Which was just as well.

‘Yes, please,’ Fergus said, but Mary stared at both of them and Ginny thought, no, she hadn’t moved on.

But Ginny wasn’t answering questions. She couldn’t.


Mary and a young orderly took the recovering Stephanie out of Theatre. Fergus left to let the parents know how things had gone. Ginnie rid herself of her theatre gear fast, hoping to escape, but when she emerged Fergus was seated in the waiting room with a couple who were obviously Stephanie’s parents.

The woman had been crying, Ginny saw, and it was obviously taking time to reassure her and to be able to speak coherently to the pair of them.

‘The appendix has burst,’ he was saying. ‘It’s out now and it’s fine, but it was a bit messy. I’m really sorry I didn’t diagnose it this morning. It’s meant that we need to keep Stephanie in hospital for a little longer than we otherwise would. She’ll have to stay on intravenous antibiotics to make sure the infection from the appendix doesn’t cause any more problems.’

‘But she will be OK?’ the woman asked tremulously, and Fergus met her look square on. He hesitated, but the woman was shaking. He put a hand on her shoulder and gripped, hard.

It was often like this with people who’d never had medical trauma in their lives before, Ginny thought. These two had been shocked to the core by the realisation that their little girl was vulnerable in the worst possible way.

To lose a child…

Fergus had lost a child. What that must mean…

‘She’ll be OK,’ he was saying.

Ginny should go through the room, past them to the exit. At the very least she should make her presence felt. Instead, she stood in the doorway and watched.

‘If you’d operated earlier, it wouldn’t have burst,’ the farmer said, probing, and Fergus nodded.

‘That’s right. It was my mistake and I’m sorry for it.’

How often did you hear a doctor say that? Ginny thought incredulously. Surgeons had a reputation for being mini-gods in their domain.

Not this one.

‘But we all thought it was gastro.’ The woman was crying still, but she’d calmed down now and she took Fergus’s hand and lifted it. ‘The local school…one kid after another has gone down with this bug and we thought it was the same. We practically told you it was the same. And Clive here even thought you were overreacting when you brought her in this morning. Bloody doctors trying to fill hospital beds, he said, and I agreed. So…’ She gulped. ‘So I’m saying there’s no blame on you from us for not diagnosing it earlier. Is there, Clive?’ And she turned to her husband and waited.

Hmm.

It could go either way here, Ginny thought. Clive Horace had the look of a man who could be belligerent.

But it seemed that Fergus’s blatant apology had done the trick.

‘We won’t be blaming you, Doc,’ he said. ‘If you hadn’t been here and she stopped vomiting, we probably wouldn’t have even taken her to the doctor until late today ’cos it’d mean a three-hour drive. By which time I reckon she’d be worse.’

‘She would have been.’

‘Just lucky you were here, then,’ he said, and he looked up and saw Ginny watching. ‘And you, too, miss,’ he told her. ‘The nurse said you’d given the anaesthetic. And you a Viental and all.’

‘I-’

‘Your family’s had such rotten luck,’ the farmer said. ‘And here we are, terrified about one of our kidlets with appendicitis. I don’t know what we’re making a fuss about.’

‘If it was my kid, I’d be making a fuss,’ Ginny said.

‘They say you have a kid,’ the farmer said. ‘Richard’s kid. They say you’re taking her on.’

‘I… Yes.’

‘You’re a brave lass.’ He rose and took his wife’s hand, drawing her up after him. ‘Thanks to you both,’ he said heavily. ‘Can we see her now?’


She wanted to go home. She felt drained and a little sick. She turned and headed out to the car park and when she heard Fergus, call she was tempted not to stop.

‘Ginny.’

She did stop but she didn’t turn to face him. She just stood motionless, staring ahead at her car.

He caught her and touched her shoulder. She flinched. She’d made her decision-but she didn’t have to like it.

He withdrew his hands. ‘Ginny?’

‘Yes?’

‘I was wondering if you’d come out with me tonight.’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘No,’ he said gravely. ‘It’s a dumb idea. But it’s the only idea I have. Hell, Ginny, what sort of a childhood did you have?’

‘Are you saying you want to take me out tonight because you feel sorry for me?’ she managed, and she heard him suck in his breath in exasperation.

‘Of course not.’

‘Then what?’

‘I just think you’re the bravest woman,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you. Ginny, I really need to get to know you better.’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea either.’

‘Why not?’

She whirled to face him. ‘Because I’m falling in love with you,’ she whispered.

‘I think that’s a really good idea,’ he said, and he smiled.

‘No, it’s not.’

‘Ginny, we need to see where this can take us.’

‘That’s nuts. Like there’s five roads branching out ahead and we know three end in brick walls, so let’s just put our foot on the accelerator and go where the steering-wheel takes us.’

‘I just want to take you to dinner.’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘You know why not.’