Prince Charming of Harley Street. Anne Fraser
Tiggy was off. Or if I’d known I was going to feel this bad. I felt okay until I got off the tube, then I just started to feel worse and worse.’
‘Dr Cavendish is in with a patient. Should I call him?’ Vicki did look awful. There was no way she should stay at work. Rose watched in alarm as the colour drained from the nurse’s cheeks again.
‘Oh, no, sorry.’ Vicki clamped a hand across her mouth and bolted for the bathroom.
While she waited for Vicki to re-emerge, Rose switched the kettle on again and finding some peppermint tea set about making a pot. She hoped the drink would help settle Vicki’s stomach. There was no way she could be allowed to return home until she stopped feeling ill.
‘You must wonder what kind of place you’ve walked into.’ Vicki’s voice came from behind her. ‘The nurse more ill than the patients. And I see Lady Hilton has brought Mr Chips in again. I do hope he won’t relieve himself in the plant pot again. Oh, is that tea? Could I have some?’
‘I think you should try a couple of sips. Why don’t you sit down? You look as if you could collapse at any minute.’
Vicki sat on one of the chairs at the kitchen table. ‘Jonathan is not going to be happy about this,’ she confided. ‘The last time I was off the full eight months. He had to find someone to replace me, and she didn’t turn out to be great.’
Realisation was beginning to dawn on Rose.
‘You’re pregnant?’
Vicki nodded. ‘Oh, I’d better not do that again,’ she moaned. ‘Any movement just makes it worse.’
‘And you had hyperemesis with the last pregnancy.’
‘Hey, you’re pretty switched on. Have you had it? Is that how you know?’ She was too polite to say so, but Rose guessed she was wondering how a medical secretary would know about the condition an unfortunate few women suffered in pregnancy.
‘I’m a trained nurse. Poor you. How badly did you have it last time?’
‘Bad enough to put me in hospital, I’m afraid. And to keep me off work for most of my pregnancy.’ She took a tentative sip of her tea. ‘I’m dreading having to tell Jonathan.’
‘He doesn’t know you’re pregnant?’
‘I wasn’t going to tell him just yet. I’m only eight weeks. And I hoped that I would be better this time around.’
‘I’m sure he’ll understand.’
‘He’s a real softy. Of course he’ll understand. I just hate letting him down. The patients like to see me. They’re used to me. Most of the older ones hate change. My obstetrician tells me it might get better by around twelve weeks, but I’m not holding my breath.’
The sound of a door opening alerted Rose to the fact that Jonathan’s consultation with Lady Hilton had ended.
‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ she reassured Vicki. ‘Just you stay there until I get back.’
She scooped up Mr Chips from his nest in her cardigan and carried him over to Lady Hilton. The movement roused the dog from his nap and he reached up, attempting to lick Rose’s face. She just managed to avert the doggy kiss by passing Mr Chips over to his owner.
‘Has my baby been a good boy, then?’ Lady Hilton cuddled her dog as if it had been days rather than minutes since they’d been together. But as she buried her face in her pet’s fur, Rose noticed tears in the corner of her eyes.
‘I’ll come to the house to see you and Giles later this week,’ Jonathan said. ‘In the meantime, we’ll try this new prescription. See if that makes a difference.’ He patted her arm. ‘The next few weeks are going to be rough,’ he said. ‘Call me any time. I mean it.’
He looked around. ‘Rose, have you seen Vicki? She’s usually in by now.’
‘In the kitchen, having a cup of tea. I’m afraid she’s not feeling very well.’
A look of concern swept across Jonathan’s face. ‘I’ll go and check up on her. I’ll see you soon, Sophia. Take care.’ He kissed the woman on the cheek again and Rose showed her out.
Rose retreated behind her desk, giving Vicki the chance to tell Jonathan her news. She ran through the condition in her mind. Although hyperemesis was hugely debilitating, it was rarely life threatening. However, being constantly sick would prevent Vicki from working and might well require another stay in hospital.
Jonathan appeared with his arm around Vicki’s shoulder. ‘I’m going to take Vicki home,’ he said. ‘Do you think you could hold the fort until I come back? I’ll be about an hour.’
‘Your next patient is due in about ten minutes,’ Rose reminded him. ‘Lord Bletchley?’
‘I can manage, Jonathan,’ Vicki said weakly. ‘I’ll take a taxi. You stay and see your patient. You know what Lord Wretchley—I mean, Lord Bletchley’s like. He’ll go through the roof if he’s kept waiting.’
‘He’ll just have to,’ Jonathan replied, looking determined. ‘I don’t want you to go in a taxi. Not when you might throw up again. You know what some of these drivers are like. They might well kick you out.’
‘Couldn’t I take your car and drive Vicki home?’ Rose offered. ‘My insurance allows me to drive any car. That way you could see Lord Bletchley on time. It does mean there wouldn’t be anyone to cover reception, but seeing as it’s only the one patient we’re expecting, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. You can man the desk, whereas I’m not too sure he’d like to be seen by me.’
Jonathan smiled and Rose’s heart gave a little blip. No man should have a smile like that, she thought. It just wasn’t fair on women.
‘Despite what anyone may have told you, I’m perfectly capable of answering the door.’ He dug in his pocket. ‘If you’re sure you don’t mind? My car’s parked outside. Vicki knows which one it is.’ He tossed a set of keys to Rose. ‘It has satellite navigation so you should be able to find your way to Vicki’s house and back okay.’
Ignoring Vicki’s protests that really she could manage by herself, Rose retrieved a sick bowl from the treatment room and ushered her out the door.
‘Okay, which one is his?’
Vicki pointed at a low-slung sports car. Rose felt the colour drain from her face. Although she knew relatively little about cars, she knew enough to know that the car must have cost at least as much as her parents’ house. For a second, she was tempted to go back inside and tell Jonathan she had changed her mind. But one look at Vicki told her that she needed to be at home and in bed as soon as possible. If she put a scratch on the car, Little Lord Fauntleroy would just have to live with it.
Thankfully, Vicki knew how to work the sat nav and soon Rose was threading her way through the London traffic.
‘You don’t have to hold the steering-wheel as if it’s a wild animal about to attack you,’ Vicki said with a smile.
She was right. A child on a three-wheeler would move faster. Rose forced herself to relax her grip. Now if only she could unclench her teeth, perhaps she could talk as well as drive.
But it seemed as if Vicki was no more capable of chatting than she was. The nurse leaned back against her seat and closed her eyes. Rose followed the instructions of the disembodied voice from the computer and by some miracle managed to find her way to Vicki’s house without any disasters. Now all she had to do was make it back in one piece.
‘Is there anyone at home to look after you?’ she asked Vicki as they drew up in front of a small Victorian terrace.
‘My husband,’ Vicki replied. ‘He’s a police officer. He’s on night duty so he’ll be sleeping like the dead, but I’m sure he won’t mind me waking him if I need anything. Our daughter is in nursery school.’