Jill checked her watch with a sigh. Evening surgery had started and she was late. She'd just finished assessing Alun who was comfortably settled into Milner Ward for the night. She hurried down the corridor towards reception, ignoring the curious looks of those she passed. She looked a mess, but she had no time to sort herself out. Her clothes were dirty and stained with moss, her legs were grazed and her hair was askew, strands flying every which way and the whole lot threatening to escape from its ponytail.
She entered the small staff area behind reception, handing her Alun's file to Lizzie, and receiving a stack of notes in return. She almost groaned when she took in the height of the stack, and she did groan when she glanced at the crowed waiting room, full of miserable looking patients and at least five screaming toddlers. She glanced at the file on the pile; three year old Jessica Norris, no doubt one of the screaming youngsters who was going to considerably lengthen her afternoon surgery and put pay to her hearing for the rest of the day.
She took a step into the corridor, when Gordon appeared before her, pushing her gently backwards, out of view of the patients. He took hold of her hand, stroking it gently with his thumb as she looked at her, his expression holding the same concern as before. "Are you okay Jill?"
She smiled softly, touched by his concern, and placed her free hand on his cheek as if to emphasise her point. "I'm fine. Don't worry. I really must get on, I'm behind as it is." She gestured to the reception behind him.
"Of course." He replied but made no move to release her hand. He continued. "I saw your first two patients."
"Thank you Gordon." Her smile widened. She leant forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek. She made to enter reception, but a thought made her pause. Her voice lowered and became serious. "After surgery I'll phone the police, inform them about the newspaper."
He nodded. "Good idea. And then maybe we can speak to Matron and Mr Middleditch."
She too nodded, returning his solemn gaze, before an increase in the volume of the crying children reached her, forcing her to return to work.
Jill exited her consulting room, feeling considerably smarter than half an hour previously. Afternoon surgery was done, she'd phoned Ashfordly police, and then had time to tidy herself up. Her moss-stained clothes had been discarded for the spare suit she kept in her cupboard. Her hair was once again fixed firmly into the ponytail, complete with beehive and ribbon. And her grazed legs were clean, with tights hiding the cuts and bruises.
"Jill?" He attracted her attention, stepping towards her, taking her wrist and leading her to the side of the corridor. "What did they say?"
She inclined her head towards him, her voice low, glancing around to be sure no one was near. "They said they'd contact the newspaper, make enquiries as to who placed the notice, though they're not too hopeful."
He nodded and sighed, sliding his hand from her wrist to clasp her slender fingers. "Do they have any leads from our neighbours?"
"No, no one saw anything apparently." She sighed then laughed. "Typical, the one time we want people to be nosey, they aren't." Gordon stayed silent, merely toying with her wedding ring on her finger, obviously not finding her attempt to make light of the situation humorous. She continued, "They want me to speak to them. I said I might get chance at lunch tomorrow."
"I'll come with you."
"You don't have to."
"I want to." His eyes held such sincerity and concern, and she looked down shyly.
"Thank you." When she looked back at him, her lips were curved into a small smile. "I'd like that."