Island Doctor to Royal Bride?, page 7
Mariam was getting more anxious by the minute. ‘What’s wrong with my baby?’
Arissa gave Philippe a quick nod of her head. It didn’t matter that this was her clinic. She’d never had a child with meningitis before and it was clear that Philippe had got this.
He bent to speak to Mariam. ‘We have to act quickly, Mariam. I think Rosni might have meningococcal meningitis. I can see from her chart she’s had her first vaccination but not the rest.’
‘She’s been sick. There hasn’t been time...’
Philippe put his hand on Mariam’s shoulder. ‘This isn’t your fault. We don’t normally see meningitis in babies as young as Rosni. She’s just unlucky.’
‘You’re sure that’s what it is?’ Mariam’s voice was trembling.
He gave a sorry nod. ‘I’ve heard this scream only once before.’
Arissa stepped up alongside him. ‘It’s important we give Rosni antibiotics as soon as possible. We have them here—for emergency circumstances like these.’
‘Shouldn’t she go to hospital?’
Arissa nodded. ‘Yes, absolutely. But if we call an ambulance now it will still be over an hour before you reach the hospital. We’ll start the antibiotics now before we call the ambulance.’
Philippe picked Rosni up and put her on the baby scale for a second, taking a quick note of her weight. It only took a few moments to work out how much of the medicines to give the baby and Philippe found a tiny vein quickly to slide in an IV portal. ‘Just as well you’ve got these,’ he said quietly as Arissa bent beside him to assist.
She gave a brief nod. ‘Let’s just say we’ve learned over the years to plan for every contingency.’ Her shirt was sticking to her back and she gave an uncomfortable shudder. ‘But I’m glad I’ve never had to do this before.’
His hand closed over hers for a few seconds as she passed over the syringe with the antibiotics. His eyes turned to the clock to begin the administration. ‘Hopefully this is a one-off,’ he said. ‘You call the ambulance, then I guess we’ll spend the rest of the day contact tracing.’
She sucked in a breath. She hadn’t even thought of that. Of course.
She couldn’t help but admire how smoothly he’d handled all this. It was likely she would have gone outside to see whose baby had been crying like that—but would she have recognised the signs of meningitis as quickly as Philippe had?
As an ER doc it was likely he’d had cases before. Any case she’d dealt with in paediatrics had already been diagnosed, or been under investigation, by the time they’d got to her. She’d had to perform lumbar punctures to guarantee a diagnosis on small children before, but most of the initial diagnostics had already been recognised.
Arissa made the call for the ambulance, then phoned the referral through to the hospital so they would be ready to expect the patient. She then grabbed a chart to make some notes and went back to Mariam. ‘I know you also have a son, Mariam. Are there any other children in the house?’
She shook her head. ‘Just my son, Vasan. He’s three.’
Arissa took a quick note. ‘I’ll arrange for some oral antibiotics for your son. Anyone else in the household? Or has Rosni been at nursery?’ She tried to be as methodical as possible, taking all the notes she should to ensure that anyone potentially exposed to meningitis would be identified and protected.
Philippe continued the slow and steady administration of the antibiotic, monitoring the baby for any reaction. Rosni was still agitated—the medications taking time to take effect. The ambulance arrived around fifteen minutes later, the paramedic more than capable of dealing with their charge.
By the time the ambulance left Arissa was exhausted. She slumped against the door jamb and took a deep breath.
Philippe sat down at one of the tables and put his head in his hands. She realised instantly he was upset, much more than his calm demeanour had implied. She walked over and, after hesitating for a second, sat down at right angles to him, close enough to touch him.
She reached up her hand, holding it just next to his hand before changing her mind and edging her seat closer. She took both his hands in hers and lowered them to the table. His head was still bowed. So, she took a deep breath and lowered her head so her forehead was against his.
His voice was low, throaty. ‘Once you hear the cry you never forget it.’
His breath was warm next to her skin. She could see the faintest tremble in his hands. She licked her lips slowly then asked the question. ‘When did you hear the cry before?’
He shivered. His eyes still closed. ‘A few years ago in another ER. I’d just come on shift. The woman had been in the waiting room for a few hours.’
Arissa’s stomach sank. From his reaction she could almost guess what might have happened. ‘How did that baby do?’
He clenched her fingers tightly. ‘He made it—but barely. His vaccinations were up to date, but his mum had put him to bed and given him some acetaminophen when he’d developed a fever. She’d brought him in to the ER in the middle of the night when he hadn’t settled.’
‘And she was still waiting when you came on duty?’
He nodded and winced. ‘There had been a road traffic accident, and a house fire. No one had a chance to properly assess the baby.’
She squeezed his hands. ‘But you did.’
He shook his head slightly. ‘It was almost too late. The baby fitted within a few minutes. It was a few days before we knew if the baby would live or die.’ He licked his lips. ‘The baby recovered, but there were some long-term effects. He lost his hearing. If I’d got to him quicker...’ His voice trailed off.
He stopped talking, his eyes closing again. It was the first time she’d ever seen him shaken. How much had it taken for him to hold things together while Mariam and her baby had been here?
She took a deep breath. ‘I’m really sorry to hear about that baby, to hear about how busy the ER was. I’m sorry for him, and the fact that he lost his hearing.’ She sucked in another breath. ‘But, Philippe, I’m not sorry you heard the cry. I’m not sorry that today you recognised the cry instantly and acted appropriately. If I’d been on my own, it might have taken me a bit longer to reach the diagnosis, and we both know that time is of the essence.’ She pulled one of her hands free of his and reached up and touched his cheek. ‘You did good today, Philippe. You’ve probably saved Rosni’s life—and the rest of the family that’s been exposed.’
He opened his eyes, his lashes only an inch from hers. His dark eyes were so deep, so full of emotion that she blinked back tears. ‘You did good today, Philippe. Don’t forget that. We all have cases we can’t ever forget.’
It was odd. She’d never expected to get so up close and personal with this man who was still a bit of a mystery to her. But this just felt so right. He was her colleague. He was helping her. He had likely just saved a baby’s life and that had obviously brought back some hidden memories.
She gave him the smallest smile. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘You made a difference today. That’s all we can ever ask.’
And they sat there, foreheads touching, until the first patient arrived for the vaccination clinic.
CHAPTER SIX
HE WAS UNSETTLED. If he tried to be rational about things he would put it down to the baby conjuring a wave of memories and emotions and the frustration he’d felt first time around.
But it wasn’t the baby. He’d checked on Rosni, and after a few days in hospital she’d made a good recovery thanks to the early administration of antibiotics. None of the other family members or kids at nursery had developed symptoms. So, he should be happy. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t think straight.
Maybe it was the pressure of the job awaiting him back home. Maybe it was the million and one ideas that were clamouring for space in his head about how he could reform health services in Corinez. He had to start somewhere. His head was swimming. So many things needed to change back home.
But the truth was he knew exactly what was unsettling him. The days were marching on in Temur Sapora and his relationship with Arissa was growing every day. They worked well together, almost anticipating each other’s requests, and at the end of each day, they sat down together, debriefed, then generally spent the evening in each other’s company.
Sometimes it was dinner in a local restaurant, other times they grabbed a takeaway. Sometimes it was just a walk around the streets or down to the beach. But the more time he spent with the quietly gorgeous, unassuming doctor, the more time he wanted to spend with her. And she still didn’t know who he was.
The thing that had initially just been a vague and unimportant secret was beginning to feel like the elephant in the room. Why hadn’t he just told her straight away who he was? Now, it felt as if he were deliberately lying to her.
No one had recognised him in Temur Sapora and, for that, he was eternally grateful. But every day he was cautious, quickly checking the Internet for any mentions. It was almost like being off the grid and that had entirely been his intention when he’d come here. But now his intention seemed a little...deceitful.
Part of him was grateful for the chance just to be ‘Philippe’. No Prince. No Royal Highness. No one treating him differently at work. No actress waiting on the sidelines. My Night with the Charming Prince had been the headline after the interview.
But how would Arissa feel about headlines like that?
As he finished scrubbing his hands in the sink, she appeared at the edge of the door. ‘Almost done?’
He nodded. They’d finished work for the day and made plans for dinner. For the first time he was going to see the inside of her home as Arissa had offered to teach him to cook some traditional Malaysian dishes.
Her curls were loose and bouncing on her shoulders, she was wearing flat shoes and a red shirt dress that complemented her skin tone and dark eyes.
He gave a quick nod. ‘Let me change my shirt. I brought another with me.’ She raised her eyebrows and smiled as he strode towards the staff room. His cream short-sleeved shirt and jeans were sitting in the corner along with his antiperspirant and aftershave. Two minutes later he was ready and stood next to her as she locked up the clinic.
‘It was a good day today,’ she murmured.
‘It was,’ he agreed. The research study results were remarkable. He’d seen a patient today whose leg ulcer had almost completely healed in a few short weeks—a leg ulcer that he’d had for more than four years. The ointment really was working wonders.
Arissa’s hand brushed against his as they walked down the main street. ‘I’ve still not heard from the professor of my new hospital,’ she said absent-mindedly.
‘Isn’t it less than a week until you go?’
She nodded. ‘I fly out on Sunday. I’ve filled in endless amounts of paperwork for the recruitment agency and the hospital HR people. It doesn’t usually take this long to sort out. I’ve had a deposit down on my accommodation for the last four months.’
They crossed into the nearby grocery store. Arissa had already pre-ordered supplies so Philippe just paid for them and carried the brown bag. ‘Maybe it’s just an administration thing. Some places aren’t as organised as others. Have you tried to call them?’
She gave a shrug. ‘Only about a dozen times. No one seems to answer their phones. I sent another email today though. If I don’t get a reply I’ll try again tomorrow.’
They turned down a street that ran parallel to the beach. It was lined with small bungalows painted in a variety of colours. Arissa stopped outside a pale yellow one and pulled the keys from her pocket.
‘This is a fantastic location,’ enthused Philippe. ‘You’re only a few steps from the beach.’
Arissa nodded. ‘Yeah. I love it. This was my parents’ house and my grandparents’ before that. Most of the houses in this row are generational properties.’
He looked around the bungalow as he stepped inside. From the outside there were two large windows at the front. One was in the main room, which was small but contained a comfortable sofa that gave a great view of the beach, and the back of the room opened out into the kitchen with a small dining table.
Arissa waved over to the left. ‘My bedroom and the bathroom are over that side. There’s another room that’s literally just a broom cupboard. That used to be my bedroom, but I use it as a study now.’
‘You never wanted to move?’
She waved a hand towards the view. ‘Who wouldn’t want to live on the beach? My mum and dad could have moved to a bigger house a number of times over the years, but the beach and the view kept them here.’
Philippe walked over to a framed photo on the wall. It showed a much younger Arissa, between an older man and woman who were both beaming down at her with their arms around her shoulders.
He asked the inevitable question. ‘Where are they now?’
She moved towards him, holding out her hands for the brown paper bag. ‘Let’s just say I was a late—but much-wanted—baby. My mother died of breast cancer a few years ago, and my father had an accident when he was out on one of the fishing boats a few months later.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
She gave the briefest nod of her head; one hand reached up and traced over the figures in the photo for a second. ‘I was lucky to have them as long as I did. They were proud of me. Saw me through medical school, and they were the proudest parents in the room at my graduation.’ He could see the love on her face, the admiration for two people that at one point had been her whole world.
He watched her for a few moments as he realised how big this was for her. She’d invited him back to her house, to see a part of her that most people wouldn’t know. It made the fact he’d been less than straightforward with her rest heavily on his shoulders.
She took the bag and carried it over to the small kitchen. Philippe moved beside her. ‘So, you’ve never wanted to sell up, even though you don’t stay here permanently?’ He was curious. She only got to spend around six weeks a year here, and he could imagine that over the years this small bungalow had become prime property.
She shook her head. ‘Absolutely not. I sometimes rent the place out to some of the visiting doctors—but only if I know them. Otherwise, I just look forward to getting back here five or six weeks a year.’
He turned and took another glance at the view. A burst of yellow sand, followed by endless turquoise ocean. It really was a prime view. The beach was sheltered, in a little inlet, with no other property overlooking it. ‘I can imagine you’ve had offers for a place like this.’
She nodded as she emptied the chicken, noodles, herbs and spices out onto the counter. ‘From the developers? Constantly. Particularly since we own not just the bungalows, but the beach too. But the rest of the people in the street feel the same as I do. Staying here is like a family tradition to me. I get to call this piece of paradise mine.’ She put one hand up to her chest. ‘I might not be here all year round, but it’s here whenever I need it.’ She met his gaze with her dark brown eyes. ‘You can’t sell a part of yourself.’
There it was. The connection. It practically zinged in the air between them. Arissa could probably make a fortune if she sold up and moved. But her heart was here. He could see that. She was grounded here. Even though her family were gone. She loved her island—just as he loved his country.
Nowadays so many people were indifferent about where they stayed—flitting about from place to place, prioritising money over so much else. It was refreshing to meet someone who had as much commitment to their home as he did.
‘Family traditions are very important where I come from too,’ he said softly. He should tell her. He should tell her now about who he really was. But he didn’t want to spoil this moment or time between them.
This was the closest he’d felt to someone in, well, for ever. She didn’t know him as a prince. She didn’t want anything from him, and he liked holding onto that thought. That feeling.
She blinked and licked her lips, before lowering her eyes as she rearranged the ingredients. ‘You’re the first man I’ve invited back here in years,’ she said slowly.
The air around them seemed heavy. Every breath a little more laboured than the one before. There was a slight tremble in her hands. She was nervous. He was making her nervous.
But somehow he knew it wasn’t a bad nervous. Because he felt exactly the same.
‘I’m honoured to be here,’ he said simply as one of his hands moved over hers. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’ The touch of her warm skin against his sent a little buzz up his skin. He liked it. He liked it a lot.
The aroma of freesias drifted towards him. Perfume. She’d put on perfume when he’d changed. His heartbeat quickened.
He wanted to move closer. To slip his hands around her waist and turn her towards him. But it seemed too forward. Too presumptuous.
Arissa’s hand moved from under his and she stepped to one side, giving him a smile over her shoulder. Was she deliberately putting a little distance between them?
He wasn’t sure. But what he was sure about was that he didn’t want to put a foot wrong. He didn’t want to step anywhere she didn’t want him. She pulled out a wok and sat it on the hotplate. ‘Okay, before we start, no allergies?’
He shook his head; he was happy to take her lead. He’d agreed to make her dinner. That was exactly what he would do. ‘No allergies, why?’
She grinned. ‘Because I like peanuts with my chicken.’
He wrinkled his nose. ‘Peanuts?’
She nodded and pointed towards the chopping board and knives. ‘Peanuts. Okay, grab your tools and let’s get started. I’m famished.’
He looked at the array of ingredients in front of him. He wasn’t quite sure where to start, but the chicken seemed like a safe bet so he started chopping that.
