Her Consultant Boss

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?’

Matthew pursed his lips for a moment, and then relaxed. ‘All right,’ he agreed. ‘I’ll see what my mummy says.’

Sam nodded. ‘Good, I’m glad to hear it. I’ll look forward to seeing you again.’

He and Megan left a minute or so later, going back to the observation lounge. Megan looked around and was surprised to see that David and James were no longer there.

Following her glance, Sam murmured, ‘I’ve sent them off to deal with some case notes. I thought perhaps you and I might talk for a while longer.’

‘If that’s what you want.’ She hoped he wasn’t going to persuade her that the boy needed to go down the route of assessment at a child guidance clinic, or that he needed to be on medication such as James had suggested. ‘I should tell you now,’ she said cautiously, ‘I don’t like the idea of using Ritalin with young children.’

‘Nor do I, and it isn’t common medical practice here to use such drugs.’ He waved her towards the double doors, holding one open to allow her to walk through. ‘Are you saying that you agree with James’s and David’s diagnosis now?’

Megan shook her head. ‘No, I’m not. In fact, after seeing Matthew, I believe that we should do some tests before we go any further.’

‘What sort of tests did you have in mind?’

‘Blood tests and an EEG.’ The electroencephalogram was a painless procedure, and it would give her a measurement of the tiny electrical signals produced inside the brain.

‘Is this your experience as a paediatrician coming to the fore,’ he remarked drily, ‘or are you reluctant to believe that a seemingly disruptive and inattentive child could have psychiatric problems?’

She flashed him a cool blue glance. ‘Perhaps it’s just that I prefer to make a decision based on all the facts. I can’t see that it would do any harm to take a simple blood test, and at least it would serve the purpose of eliminating other possibilities.’

Sam’s eyes darkened. ‘I can see that you’re a woman who’s prepared to stick to her guns.’ He made an expansive gesture with his hands. ‘OK, go ahead. Do your tests, and report back to me with the results—just make sure that you get on to the lab to hurry things along. I don’t want to keep Matthew and his parents waiting for any longer than I have to.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Oh—right, yes, I’ll do that.’ His answer had caught her by surprise. She had been expecting an argument.

He shot her a quick, penetrating glance. ‘Well—what are you waiting for? Hadn’t you better go and get on with it? Matthew isn’t going to be hanging around all day, you know.’

Flummoxed, she said, ‘No—no, of course he won’t. I’ll go and see to it right away.’

‘Do that.’

She watched him as he strode along the corridor towards the double doors. He was a powerful figure of a man, long-legged, lean and muscular, his whole body exuding energy.

Did he still think she was wasting everybody’s time? He was a complete mystery to her, she decided. She had absolutely no idea what went on in the man’s mind.

Even so, she couldn’t help feeling a growing tinge of respect for him. At least he wasn’t standing in her way—he was giving her the opportunity to do what she thought was right, even if he thought she was on the wrong track. He had shown that he was prepared to listen to her, and he wasn’t going to stand in her way as long as she was clear in her reasoning.

She hurried away to make preparations for the tests…best not to delay, or give Sam any reason to change his mind.

It was a couple of hours later when she finished work for the day, and she decided to call in at the accommodation office on her way out to ask for the keys to the flat Sam had mentioned. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look at it.

She hurried back to Jenny’s house once that had been done. ‘Do you want to come with me and have a look at the flat, Jenny?’ she asked. ‘It might be a good idea to let the children take a look. That way, Ben will get used to it right from the first. You know how he always has a problem with anything new and any change to his usual routine—we might as well show him from the start, so that he doesn’t have a problem when you visit me.’

‘Is this the one your boss mentioned?’ Jenny asked.

‘That’s right. As far as I know, it’s not on the market at the moment because some work is being done on it. The brickwork is being pointed up, I think, and the outside lighting is being updated, as far as I can gather, along with some general redecoration.’

‘That sounds like quite an overhaul,’ Jenny murmured. ‘It doesn’t sound as though it will be very comfortable, living there. There’s no rush, you know. You don’t have to move out right away.’

‘I know. But I am in the way here—my stuff takes up so much room, and it’s not fair on the children to be crowded out like this, having to share a bedroom. Besides, I’m sure Tom will be back before too long, and you won’t want me around then.’

Jenny shook her head sadly. ‘I don’t think he’s going to come back, but if you’ve made up your mind to move out I’ll do what I can to help. It sounds as though this place might be what you need.’

‘Well, at least it’s not too far away, and it’s fairly close to the hospital, so things should work out reasonably well if it’s suitable.’

‘I’d like to see it.’ Jenny turned to the children and explained, ‘We’re going to have a look at a new flat where Auntie Megan might be going to live. You can have a few minutes more to play, and then I want you to get ready to go and see it.’

‘It might look a bit of a mess,’ Megan told the children. Mrs Carter had warned her that work was still going on. ‘The workmen are trying to fix up the outside of the building.’

‘Me take my tools and fix it,’ Josh stated, his eyes widening with excitement, his little chin jutting with determination.

Jenny smiled. ‘I don’t think we can stop him,’ she murmured. ‘He takes his toolbox everywhere with him.’

Ben resisted at first, but Jenny drew in a deep breath and explained again what they were going to do. Over the years she had learned that it didn’t do to hurry him or spring anything new on him.

Half an hour later, they set out. It didn’t take them long to get there, and from the first Megan was impressed with what she saw. The flat was in a neat block of houses built of mellowed red brick, and it was clear from the outside appearance that the property had been well maintained.

Megan looked at the children. ‘Shall we go in and have a look?’

‘Me go.’ Josh was keen to get inside, but Ben hung back.

He dug his heels in, and when Jenny tried to gently coax him into going with them he began to shriek in protest.

‘You can’t stay out here,’ Jenny told him firmly, and when he continued to hang back she led him forward, telling him all about what they were going to see.

Megan marvelled at her patience and began to unlock the front door. Ben immediately tried to reach up to lock it again.

‘He’s got a thing about locks,’ Jenny said in a rueful, harassed tone. ‘And handbags, and briefcases—come to think of it, he has a problem with anything that needs to be opened and closed.’

‘Perhaps it’s just locks and clasps,’ Megan suggested as they walked into the living room.

It was a large room, furnished simply with a softly upholstered lounge suite that blended easily with warm-coloured curtains and carpet. There was a glass-fronted display unit along one wall and a neat writing desk along another. That would be useful, Megan thought, when she had to concentrate on her studies in the evenings.

Warm afternoon sunlight filtered in through a wide window, and she went to look out. The view was magnificent.

She said happily, ‘Come and look at this, Jenny—I can see the park from here. Isn’t that lovely? We’ll be able to take the children to play there.’

Jenny came over to the window and looked out. ‘You’re right, that’s fantastic. What a glorious view.’

Josh had already rushed forward and was tugging at his mother’s skirt, anxious to see for himself. Jenny picked him up and showed him the view of the parkland with the river meandering gently in its midst.

Megan turned to look at Ben. ‘Would you like to come and look?’ she asked him.

Ben hung back, and she added, ‘I bet you could draw a lovely picture of this. You like drawing, don’t you? I brought some pencils with me. You could do a picture of the ducks sitting on the water.’

Her words didn’t have much effect on him, and Jenny said quietly, ‘You know, sometimes I wonder if he can hear properly. If he can’t, perhaps that’s why he gets so frustrated and acts up. I don’t know what to do. It’s as though I can’t reach him at all, and it makes me so unhappy. I can’t think why he’s the way he is.’

‘It’s possible that he’s a little bit deaf, I suppose,’ Megan said. ‘I can make arrangements for him to be tested if that’s what you want.’ She wasn’t altogether sure that that was Ben’s problem, though. There were times when he seemed to hear the faintest of sounds. ‘Do you think part of his problem could be that he’s missing his father?’

Jenny was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Perhaps. It certainly doesn’t help, but I don’t think it’s just that. His behaviour seems so odd at times, and there were problems long before Tom went away. It’s just that it’s so much more difficult for me to cope since he left us.’

Her shoulders slumped a little. She looked tired and depressed, Megan thought, and it was hardly surprising. Looking after two young children was a lot for anyone to cope with singlehanded.

‘Tom does keep in touch, though, doesn’t he?’ she asked. ‘Didn’t you say that he talks to the children on the phone and comes to see them every week?’

Jenny nodded. ‘Yes, he does. It’s not the same as having him around, though. The children miss him.’

‘I’m sure they do.’ Megan made up her mind there and then that she would try to have a word with Tom fairly soon. He and Jenny had always seemed like a happy couple to her, and she would never have imagined that he would want to leave his family. It seemed so out of character for him to behave that way.

They looked around the rest of the flat, and Megan was pleased to see that there was a little balcony running around the back of the building, looking out onto the park. At the moment it was cluttered with ladders and various bits of equipment left behind by the workmen, and that surprised her a bit. She would have expected them to clear up at the end of the day.

Still, when they were finished, she guessed that she would be able to sit out here on a warm afternoon and relax. She smiled, seeing that Josh was already in his element, taking out his plastic toy hammer and bashing everything in sight.

‘What do you think?’ Jenny asked, raising her voice above the din he was making. ‘It looks good to me. Do you think you’ll take it?’

Megan nodded. ‘I do like it. I think I could settle in here fairly quickly.’

Once she had made up her mind, everything was set in motion fairly quickly, and by the weekend she had moved in. She had told Mrs Carter that she didn’t mind if the workmen were around for a short time.

She soon got to know the people who shared the building with her. Her immediate neighbour was a woman in her early thirties, a single parent who had two young boys. The children came to see her as she was carrying boxes into the flat, offering to help her.

‘OK, thanks,’ she accepted with a smile. ‘I could do with a helping hand.’ Jamie, the youngest, was eight years old and wanted to know everything about her. His older brother, Jack, was ten.

‘Did you have a removal van come and bring all your furniture?’ Jack asked.

‘No. Most of the furniture was already here.’