The Real Christmas Message

‘I know.’

But Dr Cunningham didn’t answer his bleep, and Lara began to grow restless. She eventually got through to the Rawlins family on the phone, to be told that he’d only just left. And they lived on the periphery of the practice area. Miles away.

Nick saw her glance at her watch for the fortieth time. ‘What do you want to do?’ he asked.

‘What can I do?’ she asked desperately. ‘She isn’t on the phone, and I certainly can’t call an ambulance on a hunch. I guess I’ll just have to wait until your father gets back.’

Nick stared at her. ‘Get your coat,’ he said decisively.

‘What’s going on?’ demanded Annabel petulantly.

‘Lara and I are going to see the patient,’ he explained.

‘But you’re not. . . I mean, you can’t. . .’ stumbled Lara.

‘I’m not her doctor, it’s true,’ he agreed. ‘Although I’ve done locums for Dad in the past. I’ll just come along for the ride. We’ll go in and see how she is. If it’s a false alarm, fine. But if you need a doctor—for whatever reason—then I’m there.’

His calm assurances warmed her and she smiled. ‘Thanks,’ she said, and then turned to the grumpy-looking Annabel.

‘I’ve switched the phone back over to the answering service. Could you explain to Dr Cunningham where we’ve gone?’ she asked. ‘Tell him I’ll ring if we need him.’

‘OK,’ muttered Annabel sulkily.