St Matthew's Passion - By Sam Archer Page 0,5

If he couldn’t ignore it, neither did it have to mean anything significant. She was his senior trainee, entrusted to his mentorship, and his personal feelings for her were academic. There was no way he could ever take things further with her, even if he was so inclined, because of the nature of their professional relationship. Boundaries had to be observed.

And of course there was the… other reason he could never get together with her. The more important one.

Fin closed his eyes against the pain for ten long seconds. Then he took a deep breath, putting his thoughts to one side, and dropped into the swivel chair at his desk to attack his paperwork.

Chapter Two

‘Mrs Reynolds?’

The tiny, stout lady struggled to her feet, her husband helping her. Melissa smiled and held the door open for the couple to shuffle through. Mrs Reynolds glanced curiously at her as they went in.

Melissa offered chairs for the two of them before seating herself at her desk. The elderly woman’s clinical records were on the computer screen before her but Melissa didn’t need to give them much more than an occasional glance. She’d studied the notes of all today’s outpatient clinic attenders the night before and familiarised herself with the histories and the treatment plans. They were all people whom Fin or his staff had treated for traumatic injury at some point, and most would attend for follow-up only until they were deemed either fully recovered or at least stable.

Mrs Reynolds had been in a car accident as a passenger two months earlier, and had sustained a deep laceration to her neck. The ambulance crew had kept her alive until she reached St Matthew’s, where Fin had operated in time to repair the carotid artery on the right-hand side. She’d had other injuries, including a broken leg which accounted for her limited mobility, but the neck wound was the one that would have proved fatal. Post-operatively she’d healed well, and all things being equal, Melissa was anticipating discharging Mrs Reynolds today.

After an initial exchange of pleasantries, Melissa was running through a standard checklist of questions – had there been any new swelling in the area, was there any lingering dizziness or lightheadedness – when she noticed Mrs Reynolds casting glances at her husband.

‘Is something wrong?’ Melissa asked.

‘It’s just…’ The older woman looked at her husband again, who shrugged slightly. Mrs Reynolds faced Melissa.

‘It’s nothing personal, dear. I’m sure you’re a lovely doctor, and a very good one. But… I really was hoping to see Mr Finmore-Gage.’

‘I know.’ Melissa smiled. It was a familiar request. Patients always wanted to see the most senior doctor, and who could blame them? Melissa herself would probably be the same if she needed medical help. ‘But I’m afraid he’s busy with his own clinic right now.’

The silence stretched out. Mr Reynolds coughed awkwardly, looking at his feet.

Mrs Reynolds said, ‘He is here, though. And he said to me that if he’s here when I come up, he’ll see me personally.’

Melissa kept her smile. ‘I’m really sorry, Mrs Reynolds. But I’m perfectly qualified to see you.’

Immediately she regretted saying it, thinking it must have come across as insufferably pompous. Mrs Reynolds tottered to her feet again, her husband jumping to help her.

‘I’m sorry, doctor,’ she said primly. ‘But I’d rather wait outside until Mr Finmore-Gage is free.’

Melissa rose, nonplussed. Mrs Reynolds’s husband gave her an apologetic grimace over his shoulder.

Melissa followed them out into the waiting room. At that moment Fin emerged several doors down, escorting a patient out. His face broke into a broad smile.

‘Mrs Reynolds! Good to see you.’ He frowned, peering down at the side of her neck. ‘It’s looking great.’

‘Mr Finmore-Gage, is there any chance I could see you, if you have a moment?’

Fin glanced across at Melissa, who stood helplessly outside the door of her examination room. He gave her a wink and said, ‘Yes, of course.’ Putting out an arm, he supported Mrs Reynolds into his room.

Melissa went back into her own room, closed the door, and slumped at her desk, glaring at the computer screen. Her face burned.

What was Fin doing? He must have realised what happened, that Mrs Reynolds had been seeing her, Melissa, and been unhappy about it. The very least he might have done was to express his full confidence in his registrar and urge Mrs Reynolds to consult her, even if he did have the time to see her himself.

She stared glumly at the display on the monitor. Had