Caroline Anderson - Saving Dr Gregory

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. Polly laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

Matt continued, ‘I’d like to see your husband, as well, if you can talk him into coming to see me.’

‘He won’t come. He doesn’t care.’

Matt smiled at her, tenderly and with great sympathy. ‘Are you sure? Please ask him. If he really didn’t care about you, why is he still with you after seven years?’

Matt patted her hand and stood up. ‘Polly, have you done a smear?’

She shook her head. ‘Perhaps Mrs Robinson would like to come back later in the week and we’ll finish off the tests and things? I think you’ve probably had enough for now, haven’t you?’

She nodded. ‘I think I’d like to go home and have a bath and an early night. My husband’s away until tomorrow, so there’s no need for me to stay up. I’ve got a lot to think about.’

She took Polly’s hand. ‘Thank you for being so kind to me.’

‘Oh, Mrs Robinson,’ Polly said with a slight smile, ‘you’re welcome. I’m always here—come and have a chat if you need to. Don’t bottle things up—if you need an answer, come and ask one of us. That’s what we’re for.’

Polly showed her to the door, and turned to find Matt watching her from the doorway of her surgery.

‘Well done,’ he said quietly, and Polly burst into tears.

‘Oh, Matt,’ she whispered, ‘why are we so horrible to each other?’

He handed her a tissue and stood patiently beside her while she blew her nose and pulled herself together, then he waited while she found her bag and put on her coat, and locked the surgery behind them.

‘Supper,’ he said, and with a wink, he hobbled over to his car and climbed in. ‘Can you remember the way?’

Polly nodded. ‘I’ll see you back there.’

As she followed his Volvo estate out of the car park, she thought it was typical that he would have a car like that—big, solid, reliable, safe—just like him. Husband material, she thought again, with a heavy sigh. She wondered what his wife was like.

‘She’d better damn well deserve him,’ Polly thought with a protective urge, and then laughed, a little weakly. She realised that her laugh was just a short step from tears.

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