A Proposal to Remember

‘And what was that?’

He stared into the candle, watching the breeze toy with the flame. ‘Space to make my own discoveries. Freedom to make my own mistakes.’ He shrugged and reached for his glass. ‘I didn’t want to just move into something that my father had built. That was his dream and I suppose I needed to follow my own dream. I needed something different.’

‘Bright lights and adulation.’

He looked at her thoughtfully over the rim of his glass. ‘You really don’t think what I do rates very highly, do you?’

‘You truly want to know what I think?’

‘Just this once, yes, I’ll risk it.’ He put the glass down and sat back in his chair, eyes narrowed. ‘Tell me what you think, Riggs.’

She took a deep breath. ‘I think you’re an extremely talented doctor who’s wasting those talents. You could be making a real difference to people’s lives. Saving lives. You did it this morning. Don’t you miss that, Sam? That feeling of having really helped someone?’

His gaze didn’t shift from hers. ‘You don’t think I help people?’

She shrugged, wishing that he’d look at his plate or his food. There was something about those killer blue eyes that she found more than a little disconcerting. ‘I can see the job is glamorous.’

He leaned forward. ‘In the last six months we’ve had dozens of letters from people whose lives have been changed by things they’ve seen on the programme. My programme. Sometimes it’s life-saving stuff, Riggs. First-aid tips that come in useful. People remember them if they’ve seen them on television. And they use them. Sometimes it’s something far less dramatic but no less important. We tackle subjects that some people find too embarrassing to discuss with their own doctors. And sometimes that gives them the courage to see their own doctors and sort out a problem that’s limiting their lives. We make a difference.’

Anna stared at him. ‘You’re pretty passionate about it.’

‘Very. I think it’s a very useful method of patient education. These days patients want to be informed. They need to be informed.’

‘That’s all very well…’ Anna picked at a piece of bread ‘…but from where I’m sitting there’s nothing more irritating than a patient coming into the surgery clutching a magazine announcing the arrival of another wonder drug.’

‘I’m not saying that all media reporting of health stories is good,’ Sam said. ‘I’m just saying that you shouldn’t dismiss it. Watch my programme. Tell me that what we’re doing in the surgery wouldn’t make good summer viewing. There’s a lot people could learn from us.’

‘Well, I agree that the wasp message is a useful one,’ Anna conceded, and Sam nodded.

‘And what we need to do now is a piece talking about first aid for anaphylactic shock, how to recognise and deal with it. Remind people with known allergies to carry adrenaline.’

‘I still think that the cameras will put patients off coming.’

‘It won’t put them off,’ Sam predicted. ‘It will attract them like magnets. Trust me on that one. You’d be amazed at the number of people who are only too delighted to air their health problems on national TV.’

He sat across from her, talking easily, making her laugh with outrageous stories, and when she finally looked at her watch she was astonished to find it was past midnight.

‘Look at the time! I’ve got a pile of reading to do before I go to bed.’

He yawned and finished his coffee. ‘Forget the reading for once. Have a night off.’

‘I like to stay up to date and stuck down here in Cornwall in a two-man practice, I never get to conferences.’

He looked at her. ‘Reading. Conferences. What about parties? Nights on the town? Don’t you ever have doubts about devoting your life to medicine?’

She frowned and tilted her head to one side, her silken dark hair sliding over her shoulder and brushing the table. ‘I’m not devoting my life. I’m twenty eight, not a hundred. This is just my focus for now. Not for ever.’

‘Precisely. You’re twenty-eight. You should have a sex life.’

She straightened her shoulders. ‘My sex life is none of your business, McKenna, but just in case you haven’t scrutinised the electoral role lately, I ought to warn you that there’s a shortage of single, eligible men in this village. And I don’t sleep with my patients.’

‘Then spread your net wider.’

Her frown deepened. ‘I’m quite happy as I am, for now. My plan is to carry on until I feel I’ve really grasped the job. Then maybe it’ll be time for more personal stuff.’

‘Anna the planner.’ He lifted his glass and drained it, his eyes glittering slightly in the flickering candlelight. ‘And what if fate intervenes? What if Mr Right arrives before you’ve scheduled him in to your life plan?’

She grinned airily. ‘I’ll probably be too busy reading my journals to notice him.’ She waved a hand at Ken who was hovering at a nearby table, chatting to the diners. ‘We’re off, Ken. You’d better charge us for this feast while we’re still sober enough to pay.’