Chapter Eight

L ydia closed the office door and leaned back against it, horrified at what she’d just done. Not only had she falsely assumed that Cordelia was Magda’s partner, but she’d also outed herself in the process.

Not that she had a problem with people knowing she was gay, but generally she kept that information for those she was close to, rather than random doctor’s receptionists that hated her. And it was becoming very clear that Cordelia really had little time for her.

She groaned and went to her desk. It had not been her best morning. Barking at a roomful of patients, irritating her receptionist. To be fair, she’d had no idea that Natalie Greene’s son was in the waiting room.

But even if she’d known, she probably would have done the same. Nat needed a break, she needed a friendly ear, and as often happened in small practices, she had no real medical problems, she just needed someone to listen.

Lydia sighed and picked up the phone. She needed to call Magda and make sure that she knew that right now, there was nothing to be worried about. At least not until she’d been to the hospital. Lydia thought about the ultrasound she’d done. She was no expert and she couldn’t be sure, but there was something just not right about it. It needed a more practiced eye than hers, and she wasn’t willing to commit to any diagnosis .

The best she could do was hurry Magda through the system and get her seen as soon as possible. That and stay calm and confident so that Magda also stayed calm.

She looked the number up on the system and got down to it. Then she had referral letters to write and charting to do and enough other things that actually eating lunch looked like it really wasn’t going to happen.

AFTER A FLOOD of patients in the afternoon surgery, Lydia was ready to eat a horse and really not in the best of moods. She let her final patient go with a reminder to come back for a blood pressure test and looked at the clock. Surgery should have ended an hour ago.

Stretching as she got up, she went into the waiting room to make sure there weren’t any patients left.

“How does this process work?” she said to Cordelia, who was looking about as grumpy as Lydia felt.

“What process?” Cordelia asked, clearing her desk by sweeping everything into her handbag.

“Well, obviously you have patients with appointments. What about walk-ins?”

“We have plenty of those, as you’ve seen this afternoon.”

“Yes, but how are they seen? In which order do we see them?”

Cordelia shrugged. “I ask them what the problem is and then decide where to slip them into the schedule.”

Lydia eyed her. “You use your extensive medical knowledge to decide who goes first?”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “No. But I’m not an idiot. I’ve been doing this job for over a decade. If it’s a simple repeat prescription then I slide them in for a couple of minutes between regular appointments. If it’s something serious sounding, like a baby with a fever, I get them straight in. If it’s something minor then I make them wait.”

“Right,” said Lydia, shaking her head.

“Listen: blood, puke or poo makes it through, that was Doc Morris’s rule.”

“You should be using a numbered waiting system,” Lydia said. “Obviously, emergencies have to go straight through or be sent to casualty, but the rest of them, they should be waiting their turn in a fair fashion. People who have the foresight to make appointments should be able to keep that appointment time.”

“That’s not the way the world works,” Cordelia snapped. “I don’t know how long you’ve been doing this, but actually, not many people plan on getting ill. Which makes it a bit difficult to make an appointment, what, with the majority of our patients not being psychic and all.”

“I’m just trying to help,” Lydia said. She really was. The practice was fine as it was, but it could be better. It was clear that whoever this Doctor Morris was, he was an older physician and a few of the newer techniques had passed him by.

“And it’s none of your business,” said Cordelia. “You’re a locum, a temp, you’ve got no business coming in here and trying to change things. It’s not particularly helpful.”

“It would make your life easier,” said Lydia. Not saying that Cordelia was so hopelessly organized that she could probably use all the help she could get.

“I don’t need you to make my life easier,” Cordelia said. “In fact, the one thing that would make my life easier would be if everyone just left me alone.”

There was a beat of silence as Lydia wondered how to respond to this. Cordelia was a snappy person, easily irritated, primed to go on the defensive. And Lydia wondered what had made her that way. Not that it was any of her business, as Cordelia had pointed out.

The ringing of the phone meant that she didn’t have to find a response.

Cordelia snatched the receiver up. “We’re closed,” she began, but quickly shut up, her face turning paler as she listened.

Lydia might be relatively new to this, but the look on Cordelia’s face was one she’d learned to recognize very quickly. Without thinking about it, she dashed back to her office and picked up her medical bag. By the time she came back, Cordelia was hanging up the phone.

“Give me your key,” Cordelia said.

Promptly, Lydia handed it over. “What is it?”

“Someone’s collapsed,” said Cordelia. “You’re going to go out of the main door and turn left. Take the first right and go straight, you’re looking for the village shop, you should see a crowd there. I’ll lock up here and join you. Go.”

Lydia didn’t say anything, she was already leaving.

Left, first right, the sun was shining and warm on her shoulders, and then she saw them, a small cluster of people around the pavement, and she hurried as fast as she could.

“Make room, doctor,” she barked as she got close enough.

The crowd split to reveal a large woman sitting on the pavement, her back against the wall of the shop. Lydia already had her suspicions just from first glance, but she needed to know more.

Looking around she recognized blue hair.

“You, Mila, call the ambulance.”

“Already done, they reckon eight minutes,” Mila said.

“Then clear the onlookers away please, give her some privacy here,” said Lydia, already squatting down.

The woman was pale, for sure, but she was also lopsided in a disconcerting way. Lydia put one finger under her chin and tilted it. “Smile,” she ordered.

In response she got a lopsided smile and a trail of drool. She checked the woman’s pupils, took one wrist and began taking a pulse and ran through protocols in her head. She was calm, clear, her breathing even, and, thought Lydia, her own state was much the same. Lydia took a deep breath, then picked up the woman’s other hand.

“I want you to push against my hands,” she said. “Like you were trying to push me away.”

The woman gurgled and pushed unevenly against Lydia’s hands.

“Beautiful, lovely,” Lydia said, remembering to smile. “Not long now, the ambulance is on its way. I’m the new doctor, by the way. Well, the locum doctor. My name’s Lydia. What’s yours?”

There was a gurgling in response and the woman’s eyes widened in panic.

“Sylv.” Cordelia’s voice came from over Lydia’s shoulder. “Her name’s Sylv.”

“Alright, Sylv, we’re doing just fine here, you’re in safe hands,” Lydia said, keeping up the flow of words, wanting to keep the woman as calm as she could.

Lydia noticed that her hands were steady as she reached for her medical bag, something that didn’t surprise her now that it was actually happening, but still, she was terrified inside. This was the first time she’d handled something like this alone.

“Is she going to be alright?” someone shouted.

“She’s fine,” Lydia said firmly. “Absolutely fine.” She pulled out a box, popped a tablet out of its pack, and used a thumb to open Sylv’s mouth. “Just going to pop this under your tongue. It’ll taste nasty, but just keep it there, let it do its job.”

“That’s it?” hissed Cordelia.

Lydia glared at her and Cordelia flushed and closed her mouth just as the first wailing of the sirens came.

She hadn’t quite realized how on edge she was until the ambulance sirens made her take a breath. Finally, someone to share the responsibility with.

“You’re just going to pop to the hospital,” she said kindly.

“I’ll go with her,” Mila said, bending down and taking Sylv’s hand. “Cord, call Max and tell him where I’ve gone, eh?”

“Absolutely,” said Cordelia.

And then the ambulance was pulling up and the paramedics were getting out and Lydia was standing up and shaking a big warm hand.

“Suspected ischemic stroke,” she said quickly. “Pupils fine, face and arm test showing signs of inequality, I’ve popped a junior aspirin under her tongue, but she’s a classic. You’ll need to get her to the nearest stroke center ASAP.”

“It’s seven minutes on blue lights,” the paramedic said. “Well within the safe window. We’ve got this, doc.”

Lydia’s heart lightened. Care within an hour had the best outcomes. There was no doubt that this was serious, but Sylv was going to be in good hands, she had the best chance she could have.

The paramedics got her onto a stretcher and Mila barked orders telling people to close the shop and look after things, and then, with a revving of engines and a whoop of sirens, the ambulance was gone and the crowd was dispersing.

Lydia finally took a full breath.

“Is she going to be alright?” Cordelia asked, voice low.

“She’s got the best chance she can have,” said Lydia. “But from what I saw, I give a tentative yes. The symptoms weren’t too advanced and she’s off to the right place. I’ve seen people recover from worse.”

“Thank god,” said Cordelia.

Lydia smiled a little. So Cordelia did have a heart.

“Although, that does leave you with a problem,” Cordelia added.

“What’s that then?” asked Lydia, fastening her bag and picking it up.

“Well, that was your new landlord,” said Cordelia, staring after the ambulance.