CHAPTER ONEThree months ago
‘WOW. YOU CAN really be wrong about some people, huh?’ Dr Zachary Fletcher said after the interviewee had left the room. He stood, stretched out his back muscles and let out a sigh. ‘Tea?’ he asked Lucy, the practice manager.
It had been a long, exhausting day, interviewing potential candidates not only for the new GP spot they were opening up, but also to replace their advanced nurse practitioner, who had left after moving closer to family.
Both he and Lucy had agreed on the new GP—Dr Stacey Emery, whom they had interviewed via video call, was the perfect candidate for their team. But they were struggling with finding the right nurse practitioner.
Their surgery was a small practice at the heart of the Greenbeck community, and Zach had worked hard to choose staff who fitted in with the type of practice he was trying to create. Warm, approachable, team players... He’d seen some great nurse practitioners today. But were any of them the right fit for Greenbeck?
The last one had had a great CV, that was for sure, but her personality wasn’t what he was looking for. In the interview she’d come across as a little abrupt, a little sharp, and had responded to their questions in a prickly manner—almost as if she’d thought they were being nosy. But a job interview demanded that the employer ask questions. It wasn’t just about qualifications. It was about finding the right person.
‘It’s a shame we can’t make it Irish tea. But plain old boring tea will have to recharge us so we can get through this last one.’ Lucy picked up the application form with a heavy sigh. ‘Hannah Gladstone. Happy to relocate if offered the job.’
Zach switched on the kettle. ‘Where does she live now?’
Lucy perused Hannah’s letter of application. ‘Epsom.’
‘Okay. Well, let’s hope she’s amazing—because we’ve run out of applicants.’
He made the tea, and offered Lucy biscuits from the tin, before he sat down and sipped at his own drink and scanned the application. It all looked good, but so had the last one, so...
‘Ready?’ he asked.
Lucy smiled. ‘As I’ll ever be.’
‘Okay. Let’s go.’
It was a nice waiting room. Modern. Brightly decorated. In one corner there was a large bookcase filled with children’s books that had a sign above it informing parents that children could borrow books and take them home.
Like a kids’ library, Hannah thought, smiling.
There were the usual noticeboards, filled with posters informing patients of both sexes of the value of checking themselves for lumps and/or anything different from usual. And a sign stating that breastfeeding was welcome in the waiting area or, if the mother preferred, a private room could be supplied, which was nice. Behind the reception desk were photographs of the surgery during its rebuild—doctors and nurses, office staff and receptionists. Everyone was smiling.
Would her face end up on the wall? Hannah wondered. She doubted it. Clearly she was the last interview of the day. The interviewers would be tired, or just ready to get home. They would have heard all the clever answers to their questions already.
What are your strengths?
What are your weaknesses?
Why should we hire you and not one of the other candidates for the job?
The reception team were less busy now than they had been when she’d first arrived. Appointments were being wrapped up. There was only Hannah and a young mother still waiting. The mum was on her phone while her infant lay back in her buggy, mouthing a rusk. The young woman looked up and over at Hannah.
She smiled politely, her stomach churning with nerves. She wasn’t good at job interviews. Not any more. They’d never used to bother her, but since the accident and everything that had happened
with Edward, her ex-fiancé, her self-confidence had taken a bit of a dive. To sit in front of people assessing her, judging her, reminded her too much of the past. Put under pressure, she stuttered, or said the wrong thing as she waited for the other person to realise that she wasn’t worth their trouble. Or worse...they pitied her.
But I need this job! I need to get away from where I am.
There was a caught thread puckering her dark trousers, midway down her right thigh. She’d never noticed it before. Frowning, she tried to smooth it out, but her nail caught on it and pulled it more instead. It looked awful, suddenly. Exposing a small hole the size of a pea that revealed her thigh. She looked as if she couldn’t afford a decent pair of trousers, and she hated to think that the interviewers’ eyes would be drawn there.
‘Shannon Glossop?’
The young mum got up and wheeled her baby down the corridor towards a woman in uniform. A nurse? An HCA? She couldn’t tell.
Now Hannah was alone in the waiting room, feeling sweat forming in her armpits and running down her back. Her mouth was dry. Was there a water fountain? She looked about her and saw one in the far corner. She put her bag down and went over to pour herself a drink of cold water.
She was just about to take a sip when a deep, slightly accented voice said, ‘Miss Gladstone?’ and she jumped, spilling the water down her white silk top.
Hannah looked down at herself in dismay.
Damp top. Hole in trousers. Perfect.
‘Are you all right?’
She turned, cheeks flushing wildly, knowing she must look a mess, to see a man standing before her.
Tall. Dark-hair, slightly tousled. Cheeky blue eyes and a great smile. He was looking at her strangely.
Probably he’s hoping that I’m not his interviewee!
Hannah brushed her top down, trying to wipe off the excess water. ‘Y-yes. I’m f-fine. I’m sorry I spilt all that...maybe if there’s a mop I could...? Sorry. Hannah Gladstone.’
She held out her hand for him to shake, realised the cup was still in it and hurriedly swapped it over, spilling more, forcing a smile, and hoping he couldn’t feel her trembling as he shook her hand.
He was simply the most remarkable-looking man she’d ever seen in her life. Was he for real? The temptation to pinch him and check that he wasn’t wearing some sort of mask was overwhelming.
‘Don’t worry about that. We’ll get it sorted. Put up a sign...’
He smiled at her, which she almost didn’t notice, so lost was she in listening to his soft Scottish burr. Which part of Scotland was he from? Glasgow? Edinburgh? She suddenly wished she knew everything there was to know about Scotland, just so she could talk to him about it and listen to him speak. There was something so mesmerising about the lilt and flow of his speech she almost forgot what she was there for.
Job interview. Come on, now. Snap to it!
‘Oh, r-right. Thank you
u. If you’re sure?’
He nodded and smiled again. His smile revealed a row of lovely white teeth and his eyes gleamed with amusement.
It was something she was familiar with, having received a fair amount of amused looks over the last year or so. She’d become a figure of ridicule back home. At least that was how it felt, and although she knew she shouldn’t care so much about what others thought of her she couldn’t help it. She was too sensitive.
‘We’re just in here.’
He stood back and indicated that she should go into the room ahead of him. Inside, a woman sat behind a desk with a pile of papers, upon which sat Hannah’s application. Next to that was a mug of tea and a plate of fruit shortcake biscuits.
The woman stood. ‘Miss Gladstone?’ She smiled.
‘Hannah. Yes.’ She shook the woman’s hand.
‘Please take a seat. My name is Lucy Dent and I’m the practice manager here in Greenbeck, and this is Dr Zachary Fletcher, the senior partner.’
Zachary... Zach... It suited him, she thought, turning and smiling even harder as he closed the door behind her, slipped past, and indicated that she should sit before he settled into his chair opposite her.
‘I hope you found us all right?’ asked Dr Fletcher.
‘Eventually! I followed your instructions, but still somehow got lost.’ She laughed, assuming they’d laugh with her, but then realised she was on a job interview and needed to seem competent. ‘I mean, I know how to follow directions, of course... I’m just not very... I struggle with...’ She laughed nervously. ‘I’m just not that good with maps.’ She blushed madly and leaned in. ‘Good thing I’m not a pirate! Not that pirates are...’
She bit her lip. Knew she was babbling. She glanced at Zach and saw that he was staring at her with a confused smile. She sucked in a breath. Gathered herself.
Stop panicking.
‘I got here just fine—thank you.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
He glanced at Lucy and they shared a look.
Hannah felt her heart drop like a stone.
I’m ruining it!
‘So, why don’t you tell us about yourself, Miss Gladstone?’ suggested the practice manager.
She nodded. She could do that, right?
‘Erm...well... I’m Hannah, and I’ve been working as an advanced nurse practitioner for about ten years now. I’ve been at the same GP practice all that time—it was my first job—and now I’m looking for a change.’
‘And that’s full-time?’ asked Dr Fletcher, looking down at her application form.
‘Yes. Full-time. Well, mostly... I...er...had an accident and was off work for a while, and when I came back I had a phased return, but then I went back to full-time.’
He nodded. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. How long ago was that?’
‘Two years ago.’
‘You’re fit and well now?’
‘Absolutely! One hundred percent. Tip-top.’
Why the hell did I say tip-top? When have I ever, in my entire life, said tip-top?
Lucy smiled at her. ‘What would you consider to be your strengths?’
‘Oh, gosh... Well, not job interviews, that’s for sure!’
She laughed, self-deprecatingly, thinking they’d join in—only they didn’t. They looked at her with amusement, but didn’t laugh.
This is not going well.
‘I’m a good nurse practitioner. I am. It may not seem like it. I don’t think I’m giving you the best impression. But that’s my weakness, you see? I babble when I’m nervous, or I go silent completely—which, looking at you now, I’m guessing you wish was the case today. But... I make a mean cup of tea and I’m kind and considerate. I love talking to my patients and building a trusting relationship with them and...’
Suddenly her brain went astoundingly blank and her mouth gaped open as she fought desperately for something positive to say that would make them change their minds.
‘I’m...er...’
She closed her mouth, looking down. She saw the hole in her trousers and thought about how badly this was going. Felt herself deflate. Felt all the fight go out of her.
‘I’m a good person...’ It was all she could manage.
The rest of the interview didn’t go any better.
With her fight gone, and her sense of optimism about getting this job disappearing faster than a bullet from a gun, Hannah felt she waffled her way through all their questions. Never saying anything persuasive and certainly not saying anything that would make these two think they ought to employ her.
‘Do you have any questions you’d like to ask us?’ said Lucy at the end.
And even though she’d practised many of them in the car, such as, Would I get the opportunity to run training courses regularly to maintain she figured she’d failed at this interview anyway, so what did it matter?
‘When do I start?’ she said, and laughed, joking.
Her smile died on her face when she saw the two of them look at each other once again, before looking back at her quizzically.
‘Look, I would like to thank you for seeing me. I appreciate your time. But I could have done much better.’
She stood and shook their hands. Then she took one last final look at Dr Zachary Fletcher, just so she could imprint his face on her memory and go home and tell her best friend Melody all about him. Not that she’d be likely to forget his face...it was just so attractive. But it would have been nice to think she could look at it for as long as she wanted if she got this post.
‘You’re welcome. We’ll be in touch,’ he said, and that Scottish burr soothed her jangling nerves.
She headed back out into Reception, thanked the reception staff, and then put her bag on a waiting room chair so she could search for her car keys. Once she’d found them she headed outside, and walked straight into the young mother she’d seen earlier, colliding with her.
‘My baby! She’s choking
!’
What?
Hannah dropped her bag and rushed over to the mother’s car—and, yes, the young mum was right. Her baby was strapped into her car seat and appeared to be choking on something.
She turned and said urgently, ‘Go into the surgery—get more help!’
She wrestled with the safety lock, unfastening it and pulling the baby free. The obstruction couldn’t be seen, and she didn’t dare risk putting her finger in to hook the obstruction in case she forced it down further. She supported the infant on the length of her arm, face down, and began to deliver some blows to her back, between the baby’s shoulder blades.
The baby still coughed and spluttered, and just when Hannah thought the child was in danger of passing out, the obstruction flew out of the baby’s mouth and landed on the car park concrete. Half a grape.
The young mum came running out of the surgery, followed by Dr Fletcher and Lucy and another male—a doctor, by the looks of it, armed with a go bag. Their faces relaxed when they heard the baby burst into tears after such a shocking and scary experience.
‘She’s okay now. She’s okay,’ Hannah said, handing the upset baby back to her mum. ‘But maybe you ought to get one of the doctors to give her the once-over, just to be sure.’
The young mum nodded and walked over to the other medic, another handsome young man, with a fashionable short trimmed beard.
They headed back into the surgery and Dr Fletcher watched them go, then turned back to appraise her and smiled. ‘Well done. You just saved that baby’s life.’
‘Oh, anyone would have done the same.’
‘A lot of people would have panicked, seeing a baby choking like that. You showed some skills, and best of all you remained calm and did what needed to be done.’ He seemed to think about something, then grinned. ‘How quickly can you give notice?’
‘I’m sorry?’ She stared at him, not sure she was understanding. He had to be joking, right?
‘Would you like the job?’
When he smiled, his whole face lit up...eyes sparkling.
‘This one? Here?’ She pointed at the surgery, trying to make sure she understood correctly.
‘That would be the one I am referring to, yes.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘One hundred percent.’
She laughed. This was crazy! Really? Was he just offering her the job out of sympathy?
‘But I did awfully in the interview!’
‘You were nervous.’ He shrugged.
‘I was terrible!’
‘No.’ He shook his head, and as he turned to go he laughed and said, ‘You were tip-top.'
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