‘We’re going to need longer appointment times for everyone though, surely?’ pointed out one of the salaried GPs, Megan. ‘If we’ve got no notes and we’re going to be prescribing from the BNF?’
I saw one of our newest receptionists, Jen, mouth ‘what’s that?’ anxiously to one of the other women sharing the front desk with her – Tina – who hadn’t been with us that long herself.
‘It’s the reference book we use for getting the correct dosage or side effects of drugs, that sort of thing. If you don’t have patient records to hand you have to manually look up whatever you’re going to prescribe them,’ I said. ‘That’s all. You don’t need to worry about it.’ They looked relieved and smiled at me gratefully.
‘You’ll just have to do your best to stick to the ten-minute slots, I think, in answer to your question, Megan – and we’ll explain at the front desk when everything starts inevitably running late.’ Cleo was already looking strained. ‘I’ll be around if anyone gets really arsey.’
‘I suppose we’ve got no idea when we’ll be back up?’ asked David, hands on his head. ‘It’s probably another accidental NHS internal send-to-all test email and a million users hitting reply all again, isn’t it?’ He sighed crossly.
‘Well, it could be a massive user error again, yes, or a hack or just a glitch.’ Cleo gestured widely. ‘Who knows? But for now, we need to open the phone lines, and it’s ten minutes until morning surgery, so good luck everyone. I’ll keep you posted.’
The computers stayed resolutely dead, however, and I had an increasingly hellish morning, as already grumpy patients became more and more fed up as we began to run later and later. It got to eleven o’clock and, having got rid of a particularly vile mother who had given me an earful about her daughter with tonsillitis being kept waiting for ‘a disgusting length of time’, I rang through for my next patient.
‘OK, this one is a Shahid Khan.’ Poor Jen sounded really harassed. ‘Fresher at the university, not registered yet. I told him you’d got a slot if he wanted to wait, which he has, and he doesn’t want to say why he needs to be seen. I’ve given him a GMS3/99,’ she spelled it out carefully, tripping up with unfamiliarity, ‘temporary services form to fill out and give you, because obviously I can’t enter him on the system.’
‘OK thanks,’ I sighed. ‘Send him through.’
‘Bev’s going to shout him for me now – I’m desperate for a wee. Sorry!’
I drew a dividing line on my pad under the tonsillitis child’s notes and reached across my desk for a tissue to blow my nose. I needed a glass of water too; I felt mildly dehydrated, having not had enough time to drink anywhere near enough all morning.
On cue, there was the next knock of the door.
‘Come in,’ I said, trying to sound cheery.
I heard the door open, turned round with a ready smile, clutching my tissue, and froze.
Standing in front of me was Jonathan Day.
He was slightly stooped, as if conscious of his height. He raised his eyebrows expectantly as he slowly lifted his head, ruffling a hand through his hair while his face split into an embarrassed smile. For the first time, I got the distinct impression he knew exactly how heartbreakingly attractive he was and was imagining what he was looking like to me; almost posed as if in front of a camera on a modelling shoot. He was in uniform again, but he’d removed his tie and undone his top button, so he looked like any other young professional. Too smart for a fresher, that’s for sure.
‘What are you doing here?’ I could hear the fear in my voice.
He turned and looked briefly over his shoulder, before coming right into the room and closing the door behind him. ‘You know why. To see you.’ His voice was urgent, excited.
My stomach had already shrunk into a small, hard, rubber-like ball. ‘Jonathan, you shouldn’t have come. If anyone sees you…’ My mind had gone three steps ahead to how it might appear that he’d been in my room with me like this, alone.
He flushed slightly with surprise, and then pleasure, at the sound of me saying his name for the first time. ‘I’m not stupid, no one knows who I am. Don’t worry. There’s no trail. I’m Shahid Khan, remember?’ He thrust a blue and white piece of paper at me, his temporary services form. ‘I look like just another patient. Here is the safest place for us.’
Us? An alarm bell began to ring quietly in the back of my mind.
‘But that’s exactly the problem, Jonathan,’ I said urgently. ‘You ARE a patient here. I could get into very serious trouble for seeing you like this in view of… the relationship we’ve had.’
He shook his head. ‘But I haven’t seen you, have I? I already said, no one knows I’ve been here. I gave a false address and everything.’ He pointed at the form; then, when I still didn’t take it, leant over and slid it across my desk. ‘Relax. I had to do something, anyway, because you can’t exactly come to school and you definitely can’t pull that crazy shit again and come to my house like you did last night, Alex.’ He laughed, his voice confident and well spoken, but all I noticed was that he knew my name.
‘Don’t get me wrong, it was amazing to see you,’ he smiled at me suddenly, ‘but they all started asking loads of questions after you drove off. Especially my girlfriend. Even my dad knew something was up the way we looked at each other. I couldn’t believe you took such a big risk.’
What? ‘Wait, Jonathan—’ I held up a defensive hand. ‘I had absolutely no idea you lived there. Your mother requested a home visit for medical attention.’
‘It’s OK, you don’t have to be embarrassed. I was pleased.’ He looked around him and pulled up a chair, so uncomfortably close to mine that his knee was almost touching the outer part of my thigh. I could smell the same aftershave that had been all over my dress the morning afterwards, to the point I’d actually thrown it away in the en-suite bin instead of packing it to take home.
I twisted back in under my desk more tightly so that the plastic arm of my seat blocked our legs from any further direct contact.
‘Mum told me how you got one of your friends to put you forward for a job they’ve got going,’ he continued. ‘That was clever. I’ve been thinking about you too.’ His smile faded. ‘I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind, and I’m really pleased you’ve changed yours. I thought you might, but…’ He shrugged, shyly.
Changed my mind about what? I could feel my panic starting to build. ‘Jonathan, I want to make it absolutely clear that my friend recommended me to your parents without my knowledge. I didn’t come to see you yesterday. I’m your doctor at the practice you’re registered at. There are very strict rules about that sort of thing.’
He looked at me suggestively, then drawled: ‘Yeah, right. Like that bothered you on Saturday night in the club?’
‘But I didn’t know then. We were just two strangers.’
‘What?’ He laughed. ‘No, we weren’t!’
A much louder bell began to sound in my head. ‘You knew who I was when you approached me?’
‘Of course!’ He threw his hands up incredulously. ‘Are we having two separate conversations here?’
I caught my breath. ‘Jonathan, have I seen you before? Here, I mean, as a patient?’
He looked at me, his mouth slightly open. ‘Seriously? You don’t remember?’ He frowned, completely confused, and put his hands up to his hair again, to reveal a very expensive, chunky watch on his wrist. His eyes were wide, but then his features suddenly relaxed again. ‘Shit, Alex, don’t do that to me! I believed you for a minute there.’ He let his arms fall back down heavily – then gave an odd, slight shake of his head as if he were jolting back into reality. ‘Can you stop messing around now?’ he asked. ‘We need to talk.’
‘Jonathan, when we met at the club, did you think I knew who you were? Because I didn’t. You do understand that, don’t you? I didn’t know who you were.’