Her Consultant Boss Read online

  ‘That’s right. I do.’ He came to half sit, half lean on the table by her side, and his proximity alarmed her momentarily. She felt dwarfed by him. He was tall, just as she’d expected. His legs were long, and as he stretched them out beside her she could see the fabric of his trousers stretching against taut thighs. She blinked and tried to clear the sudden heat haze that fogged her mind. Get a grip, Megan, she told herself. He already thinks you’re an idiot, without you giving him any more cause for complaint.

  ‘We haven’t had a chance to meet before today,’ he was saying, ‘because, unfortunately, I wasn’t able to interview you myself.’

  She noted that he put a faint emphasis on the word ‘unfortunately’. He was obviously regretting that omission already.

  ‘I had to go to an emergency meeting that afternoon,’ he went on, ‘and I had to ask a colleague to take my place. As I recall, you weren’t able to make the journey a second time.’ He studied her. ‘All of which means, of course, that I know very little about you except what is in your references and my colleague’s report.’

  ‘What is it that you want to know?’ Megan asked.

  His eyes lanced into her, but revealed nothing of what he was thinking. They were as dark and unfathomable as the North Sea. ‘You were doing a house officer job in the Midlands—what was it that made you want come up here? And why did you choose psychiatry? As far as I can gather, you haven’t had any experience in that field up to now.’

  ‘My last house officer stint was in paediatrics, which I love,’ she explained, ‘but I wanted to widen my experience. I wanted to know more about psychiatry, and I thought there might also be the possibility of my working with children, here in Wales.’

  ‘We do have a paediatric unit, that’s true, and I’m sure you’ll find yourself working with children some of the time. I must say, though, that I’m not altogether sure that you will be suited to this kind of work. I’ve seen nothing in your background that suggests that you have any interest in it. You’ve studied accident and emergency, obstetrics, general medicine, but nothing so far that points to a leaning towards psychiatry. Is it possible that you are thinking of changing course at some point and training as a GP?’

  ‘Up to now,’ Megan said huskily, brushing an invisible speck from her skirt, ‘I have concentrated on becoming a hospital doctor. I don’t know whether I would change my mind and want to work in general practice.’

  His glance followed the movement of her hand and slid down to dwell on the shapely curve of her legs. He looked away and then stood up abruptly. ‘You might find it better to think ahead and come to a decision about which branch of medicine you want to specialise in. It won’t do your career any good if you flit about.’

  She cleared her throat. ‘You’re right, of course, but at the moment I see nothing wrong in widening my areas of expertise. That way, when I finally decide what I want to do, I’ll know that I’ve made the right choice in the end.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ He looked at her thoughtfully, and then walked over to the coffee-machine that stood on a shelf in a corner of the room and started to fill a mug. He glanced across at her. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee? The others had some earlier.’

  ‘Thank you, yes, I would.’ She realised suddenly that she was parched. Nervous anxiety was drying her throat and perhaps it showed in her voice. Maybe that was why he had made the offer.

  ‘Do you have family here in Wales?’ he asked.

  She nodded. ‘As a matter of fact, I do. I have a sister who lives not far from here. I’ve been staying with her for a week or so while I look for a place of my own.’

  ‘What about the rest of your family? Do your parents live around here?’

  ‘My mother lives in central Wales, so I should be able to see her on a fairly regular basis.’

  She was too far away to be able to help Jenny as much as she would have liked, and Megan knew that her mother was relying on her to do what she could for her younger daughter while she was going through trying times.

  He handed her a cup of coffee. ‘Help yourself to cream and sugar.’ He stirred his own coffee carefully, with deliberation. ‘You say that you’re looking for a place of your own—haven’t your arrangements with your sister worked out?’

  ‘They’ve worked perfectly well,’ she answered coolly. Was he determined to look for faults? ‘It’s just that she only has a small house and things are rather crowded, since she has two children, my nephews, living there as well, and I don’t want to be under her feet for any longer than necessary. That’s why I’m looking for a place of my own, one that is fairly close by. It would have to be near to the hospital as well, of course.’

  ‘Of course—if only to ensure that you get here on time,’ he murmured.

  Megan felt a flush of pink colour rise in her cheeks. ‘Well, yes, that too, it goes without saying. I’ve made enquiries at various agencies, but so far they haven’t come up with anything that fits the bill.’

  He was thoughtful for a moment, and then said, ‘It depends what you’re looking for, of course, but I do know of a place that might suit you. It’s about half a mile from here, a one-bedroomed flat, in a house that has been split into four self-contained units. Some work was being done on it, but I think it might be available soon if you want to go and have a look at it.’

  She nodded. ‘I would, yes.’ She was surprised that he was taking an interest, but, then, he had pointed out an ulterior motive, hadn’t he? It wasn’t far from the hospital and that would ensure her being on time. ‘Who do I have to see about keys?’

  ‘Go down to the hospital’s accommodation office, and Mrs Carter will sort things out for you. She’s the one who sees to arrangements of that sort.’

  ‘Thank you. I will.’

  He looked at her sharply. ‘Don’t thank me. I simply want to be sure that you have no excuse not to do your job properly. I already have misgivings about accepting my colleague’s judgement where you’re concerned. It was only that your qualifications and your references seemed to justify his faith in you. Make sure that you don’t let him down.’

  Sparks flared in her blue eyes. ‘I won’t.’ The insinuation that she might do less than her best annoyed her. ‘I always work to the best of my ability.’

  ‘Let’s hope so. I shall be watching you, Dr Llewellyn.’

  She had no doubts about that, and she winced inwardly once more at the prospect. He’d made it plain enough that he would be a thorn in her side for the next six months!

  CHAPTER TWO

  MEGAN was determined not put a foot wrong the next day. She didn’t want to give Sam Benedict any more opportunity to find fault with her, and so she spent the morning working on routine tasks assigned to her, following up queries on patients’ notes and organising treatment schedules. That way she managed to keep a low profile and stay out of his way.

  She couldn’t avoid him for ever, though. In the afternoon, when they assembled in his office after lunch, he homed in on her and said, ‘What’s happening with those files you were working on? How far have you got with them?’

  Her heart sank. Was he expecting her to have finished them by now? She would have liked a little more time, but his grey gaze flickered over her, giving her no room to manoeuvre.

  ‘I’ve managed to get a good two-thirds of the way through,’ she answered cautiously, trying to inject a positive note into her voice. ‘It shouldn’t take me too long to finish the rest.’

  He grimaced. ‘You’d better leave them for now. I want you and Dr Jones and Dr Morgan to work with me this afternoon.’

  She had failed again. He turned to Julie Neville, the beautiful blonde, who was doing her best to ensure that she was standing by his side. ‘Dr Neville,’ he said with a smile, ‘you will be working with Dr Sanderson. Some of his patients might be of special interest to you, given your background of experience with women and postnatal depression.’

  Julie tried not to show her disappointment. ‘If you think that’s best,’ she
murmured doubtfully.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Very well.’ Since there was very little she could object to in the arrangement, she withdrew gracefully enough from the group. ‘I’ll come and find you at the end of the day and let you know how it went.’

  ‘That’s a good idea.’

  Julie retreated to go off in search of Will Sanderson, and Sam Benedict turned to the rest of them.

  ‘We’re going to spend the next couple of hours in the children’s unit,’ he said. ‘I’m hoping that you’ll find it a useful experience.’ He looked at them to see if anyone might venture to disagree. Since no one did, he waved a hand towards the door. ‘Well, then, if you would like to follow me…’

  He led the way along the corridor and through double doors which opened up into a bright, cheerful area where big yellow footprints trailed across the floor towards a children’s playroom. Megan looked up and saw that there were big, fluffy, painted white clouds dangling from the blue ceiling.

  ‘There’s an observation lounge through here, where we can look in on a play session,’ he remarked. ‘I think you’ll find it interesting.’

  He stood to one side, waiting as they all filed into the room, and then he pointed out a large glass view panel. ‘The glass window is a special one,’ he commented. ‘You can see into the room, but no one in there can see you.’

  Megan looked through the panel into the playroom beyond. A little boy was walking around, looking at all the toys and games that had been set out on tables and shelves. He was grimacing, moving jerkily and kicking out at the tables as he passed them by. A woman, presumably a therapist, was pointing out various activities to him, though he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to what she was saying.

  ‘I want you to watch what is happening in there and tell me if you come to any conclusions,’ Dr Benedict said, handing out copies of the child’s case notes. ‘Matthew is six years old, and his mother is becoming quite concerned about his behaviour. He takes little notice of what she tells him, and she is increasingly worried about his habit of pulling faces and making odd gestures. There are problems at school, too. According to his teachers, he isn’t making progress in quite the way that they might have expected, and they feel that he can sometimes be disruptive and inattentive, and answer questions with inappropriate or nonsensical remarks.’

  He showed them where they could stand and watch the proceedings. Megan stood to one side of the view panel, ignoring the case notes for a moment while she watched the little boy work his way around the room.

  At this moment he appeared more confident and was rushing around from one table to another, but then he stopped and sat down, seeming to be momentarily unsure of himself. The therapist spoke to him but he didn’t appear to be taking much notice of what she was saying. After a minute or two, though, he suddenly stood up and swerved away from her and swooped on a table where soft toys had been set out. He picked them up one by one and danced them round the table.

  It wasn’t long before he lost interest in that exercise, too, and turned to see what else there was for him to do.

  At the side of the room, a jigsaw caught his attention. He began to chuckle and gathered the pieces up in his hands, dropping them like a shower of confetti on to the table so that some of them fell to the floor. Then he sat down and simply stared at them until the therapist came to stand beside him.

  She spoke to him but once again he ignored her and after a moment or two he began to pick at his clothes in an odd fashion, before continuing to study the pieces on the table.

  Megan briefly turned her head towards Sam Benedict and asked quietly, ‘Has he been here before? Is the room familiar to him?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, this is his first visit.’

  They watched him for a few minutes more, and then Sam looked at David Jones and James Morgan and asked, ‘What do you think? Any suggestions as to what might be his problem?’

  ‘I think it’s probably a case of attention deficit disorder,’ Dr Jones said confidently. ‘He totally ignored what the therapist was saying to him at one point.’ He was a young man with a shock of fair hair that tumbled over his forehead and caused him to push it back from time to time.

  ‘And possibly hyperactivity as well,’ Dr Morgan added, rubbing a hand thoughtfully over his jaw. ‘He seems excitable at times, with all that rushing about, and then at others he appears to dismiss what the therapist is saying to him and does what he pleases instead.’

  He was a year or two older than Dr Jones and Megan had found that she got along well with him. He had a wry sense of humour that she appreciated.

  ‘And what treatment would you recommend?’

  ‘Given that the school has noted his lack of attention and excitability, I would suggest that he attends a child guidance clinic. We should probably ask for social worker involvement, too,’ James responded. ‘There may be a problem at home that needs to be looked into. According to the case notes, there’s a younger brother, so there may be some sibling rivalry.’

  David added, ‘It might be a good idea to bring in an educational psychologist to liaise with the school.’

  ‘Hmm… Is there anything else?’

  ‘Well, they do say that some cases respond to treatment with Ritalin, though I don’t know what the long-term situation would be if we went down that road,’ James murmured. ‘I imagine that we would assess him every six months or so to check on his progress.’

  ‘And what is your opinion, Dr Llewellyn?’ Sam Benedict turned to Megan, his grey eyes narrowing sharply on her. ‘You’re keeping very quiet. Are you in agreement with what has been said so far? What do you think should be done?’

  Megan swallowed carefully. ‘I wouldn’t like to say, at this stage,’ she returned evenly. Dr Benedict lifted a dark brow, and she added cautiously, ‘I would prefer to talk to the child myself before I made any decision, especially one that would involve a barrage of specialists invading his life.’

  His mouth made a wry shape. ‘If that’s what you want, by all means go in and spend some time with the child. While you’re occupied with him, the rest of us will sit here and talk for a while.’

  He probably thought that she was wasting everybody’s time, but she went ahead anyway, leaving them to it. She had never believed in practising medicine at a distance. To her mind, you needed to talk to a patient to be able to really understand what was going wrong.

  Matthew studied her suspiciously as soon as she entered the room, glaring at her from under dark lashes. He had dark hair, cut short and spiky, and to her he looked like a very young and vulnerable little boy who was unsure of the adults around him.

  She gave him a smile. ‘Hello, Matthew,’ she said gently. ‘Don’t mind me. I’ve never been here before, and I thought I would come and have a look around. There are lots of things in here to play with, aren’t there? I don’t know which I would choose for myself. What sort of toys do you like best of all?’

  ‘Trains,’ he said. Then, clearly warming to the subject, he went on, ‘You put them on the track and they whizz round and round and up and down over the bridge, and then they crash off the lines and everything falls over.’ He paused for a moment, then added grumpily, ‘They haven’t got one here.’

  Megan looked around. ‘No, you’re right. I can’t see one. That’s a shame, isn’t it? Do you have a train set at home?’

  He didn’t answer, appearing to lose interest in the conversation. He stared straight ahead at the pieces of the jigsaw. Megan tried again. ‘What do you like playing with when you’re at home?’

  There was still that blank stare, then after a moment or two he picked up a couple of pieces of the jigsaw and slotted them into place. He selected another piece and studied it carefully. ‘This one’s part of the slide—see? It’s red, and the children like playing on it,’ he said seriously.

  The picture on the jigsaw box showed a children’s playground, and she guessed that he was imagining the scene.

  ‘They look
happy, don’t they?’ She glanced at his face, and asked, ‘Do you like doing jigsaws?’

  He shrugged his shoulders, and at that moment she became aware of Sam Benedict standing by her side. She had been absorbed in her conversation with Matthew, and didn’t know how long Sam had been standing there.

  She looked up at him. ‘Sorry—have I been too long?’

  ‘Not at all. You should take as long as you think you need.’ He pulled up a seat and sat down next to Matthew. ‘Have you been all right, here, Matthew? Is everybody looking after you properly?’

  ‘They haven’t got a train set,’ the little boy complained. ‘I’m not coming here again.’

  ‘Haven’t they? I’ll have a word with Miss Maxwell about that,’ Sam said, his face taking on a serious expression. ‘What about everything else here? Is there anything else you would like to do—what do you like doing most of all?’

  ‘I like going to the playground with Mummy and my little brother.’ Matthew’s brown eyes widened. ‘We go up and down the slide and we go on the roundabout. I like that.’

  Sam grinned. ‘Yes, it’s fun, isn’t it? I remember doing that when I was your age.’ He winced. ‘It seems a long while ago now.’

  Thinking about Sam Benedict whooshing down a slide in his impeccable grey suit, Megan tried to hide a smile and failed miserably. Looking up, she caught his lancing grey gaze fixed on her and she quickly tried to turn the smile into a cough, without much success.

  He looked down at the slim gold watch on his wrist and said, ‘Matthew, I’m sorry, but Dr Llewellyn and I have to go now. I’ll come and talk to you again if you decide to come in and see us another day. I would really like to see you again, you know, and if you like I’ll have a word about getting that train set for you to play with next time you come in. What do you think? Would you like to give it a try?’