stable” and sell it to raise some funds.’
As Viv followed the others out to Wonk’s stable she told herself that her olfactory nerves needed some adjusting. They had been sending false information back to her brain. Heath Merlo wasn’t the man of her dreams, he was a rude, snidey, belligerent
pig
.
Chapter 15
The man was large and sweaty and his body odour seemed to reach out and envelop Gaynor as he rapped his finger on the reception desk. ‘Oy. When am I going to see the doctor? I should have been seen half an hour ago.’
But Gaynor had dealt with far worse than him in the years she’d worked there and there hadn’t been a situation she couldn’t handle yet. ‘I’m afraid there has been an emergency, Mr Potts. Dr Lyle had to go out and so Dr Gilhooley is seeing his patients. Unless you’d rather reschedule for another day when you can come and see Dr Lyle?’
Mr Potts slammed his large meaty hand flat down on the counter. ‘I don’t care about excuses. I expect to be seen on time.’
Gaynor locked her fierce, brown eyes onto his bulging, bloodshot ones and leaned her head forward so she had less chance of being overheard.
‘I suggest you sit down and shut up, Mr Potts, before I have you thrown out of this waiting room and this practice. You are disturbing people in here with genuine ailments who have been waiting far longer and more patiently than you, so I think you should count yourself lucky, Mr Potts, don’t you?’
Mr Potts didn’t register that Gaynor was implying his case wasn’t genuine. Which it wasn’t. There was nothing wrong with his back but Gaynor knew she had stepped over the line in saying what she had. And so did the junior receptionist Janet, who raised her eyebrows and made a mental note to keep out of Gaynor’s way today.
Mr Potts shuffled back to his seat, grumbling under his breath. No sooner had Gaynor bent down to get an eraser out of a bottom drawer when a female voice took Mr Potts’ place at the reception desk demanding attention.
‘Shop.’
Gaynor straightened her back ready to do battle once again but this was a whole different ball game. There, standing squarely in front of her, wearing a too-small denim jacket which hadn’t a snowflake’s chance in hell of closing over her giant bra-less bosom, was a grinning Danira Bellfield.
What the hell does Mick see in her?
was Gaynor’s initial thought. Danira’s brass-blonde hair was scraped back into a tight ponytail, pulling her eyes into slits. Her cheeks were already becoming jowly and that red colour on her youthfully plump lips looked ridiculously garish.
‘I’ve come to make an appointment,’ Danira said.
Gaynor’s second thought was that she wanted to drag Danira over the counter by that ponytail and pummel her face until it was the same colour as her lipstick.
‘I’m afraid I can’t make you an appointment as you don’t belong to this practice,’ she replied, outwardly clinging on to her composure, although inwardly she was screaming.
‘But h’I am here to register,’ said Danira with a fixed smile and a tone meant to parody Gaynor’s rounded tones, a product of elocution lessons she had taken in her twenties when Mick had become middle management and she wanted to hold her own at any of his work functions. ‘My lover and I have a house in the h’area now. It’s most important that I get hold of the morning after pill. I think you might be able to guess what we’ve been up to.’
Janet, who had been keeping her eye on Gaynor since she had sent Mr Potts back to his seat, lunged forwards as soon as she saw Gaynor’s arm shoot out. She stopped it before it made contact with Danira’s face.
‘I’ll deal with this patient, Gaynor. Why don’t you go and take your break,’ she said, sweetly and forcefully. She saw the tears in Gaynor’s eyes as she gently pushed her into the sanctuary of the small staff room. Gaynor slumped down onto a chair, her hands covering her face, taking refuge
As Viv followed the others out to Wonk’s stable she told herself that her olfactory nerves needed some adjusting. They had been sending false information back to her brain. Heath Merlo wasn’t the man of her dreams, he was a rude, snidey, belligerent
pig
.
Chapter 15
The man was large and sweaty and his body odour seemed to reach out and envelop Gaynor as he rapped his finger on the reception desk. ‘Oy. When am I going to see the doctor? I should have been seen half an hour ago.’
But Gaynor had dealt with far worse than him in the years she’d worked there and there hadn’t been a situation she couldn’t handle yet. ‘I’m afraid there has been an emergency, Mr Potts. Dr Lyle had to go out and so Dr Gilhooley is seeing his patients. Unless you’d rather reschedule for another day when you can come and see Dr Lyle?’
Mr Potts slammed his large meaty hand flat down on the counter. ‘I don’t care about excuses. I expect to be seen on time.’
Gaynor locked her fierce, brown eyes onto his bulging, bloodshot ones and leaned her head forward so she had less chance of being overheard.
‘I suggest you sit down and shut up, Mr Potts, before I have you thrown out of this waiting room and this practice. You are disturbing people in here with genuine ailments who have been waiting far longer and more patiently than you, so I think you should count yourself lucky, Mr Potts, don’t you?’
Mr Potts didn’t register that Gaynor was implying his case wasn’t genuine. Which it wasn’t. There was nothing wrong with his back but Gaynor knew she had stepped over the line in saying what she had. And so did the junior receptionist Janet, who raised her eyebrows and made a mental note to keep out of Gaynor’s way today.
Mr Potts shuffled back to his seat, grumbling under his breath. No sooner had Gaynor bent down to get an eraser out of a bottom drawer when a female voice took Mr Potts’ place at the reception desk demanding attention.
‘Shop.’
Gaynor straightened her back ready to do battle once again but this was a whole different ball game. There, standing squarely in front of her, wearing a too-small denim jacket which hadn’t a snowflake’s chance in hell of closing over her giant bra-less bosom, was a grinning Danira Bellfield.
What the hell does Mick see in her?
was Gaynor’s initial thought. Danira’s brass-blonde hair was scraped back into a tight ponytail, pulling her eyes into slits. Her cheeks were already becoming jowly and that red colour on her youthfully plump lips looked ridiculously garish.
‘I’ve come to make an appointment,’ Danira said.
Gaynor’s second thought was that she wanted to drag Danira over the counter by that ponytail and pummel her face until it was the same colour as her lipstick.
‘I’m afraid I can’t make you an appointment as you don’t belong to this practice,’ she replied, outwardly clinging on to her composure, although inwardly she was screaming.
‘But h’I am here to register,’ said Danira with a fixed smile and a tone meant to parody Gaynor’s rounded tones, a product of elocution lessons she had taken in her twenties when Mick had become middle management and she wanted to hold her own at any of his work functions. ‘My lover and I have a house in the h’area now. It’s most important that I get hold of the morning after pill. I think you might be able to guess what we’ve been up to.’
Janet, who had been keeping her eye on Gaynor since she had sent Mr Potts back to his seat, lunged forwards as soon as she saw Gaynor’s arm shoot out. She stopped it before it made contact with Danira’s face.
‘I’ll deal with this patient, Gaynor. Why don’t you go and take your break,’ she said, sweetly and forcefully. She saw the tears in Gaynor’s eyes as she gently pushed her into the sanctuary of the small staff room. Gaynor slumped down onto a chair, her hands covering her face, taking refuge
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