Page 19 of Viking Ink

Doc had a steady stream of patients and each one was happy to see me and greeted me as if they’d known me for years. I was starting to believe what Simon had said about the people of the town liking me. Even grumpy Mr Carol, with his bunion that he’d named Fred, was pleasant.

I made Doc and I a cuppa when there was a lull in patients and included a couple of chocolate biscuits I found in the small kitchenette cupboard. That earned me a grin from Doc. “You, my lad, are going to fit in just fine.”

“I have to ask. Why is Mr Carol’s bunion called Fred?”

Doc smirked over his cup. “Fred is short for Fredrica. That’s his ex-wife’s name. She was a shrewish woman who made his life hell, and I suppose he feels it’s a fitting name for his bunion.”

I clapped a hand over my mouth to cover the startled laugh. While we drank our teas and ate, Doc filled me in on different patients, and jobs he’d want doing about the surgery.

Tess had called earlier in the morning and would be off work until the baby was born. She’d filled me in on all of Doc’s idiosyncrasies, and from her mum’s glowing recommendation seemed happy for me to fill in. I just didn’t know how Doc Cullen would feel about it.

He answered the question for me. “Rhys, how do you feel about filling in until Tess comes back? And probably after, as she will want time with the baby.”

“Really?” I was a little flummoxed. I had barely done anything.

Doc gave a wry snort. “Rhys, you managed to get through the morning without setting the clinic on fire or scaring away the patients, and most importantly you haven’t pissed me off. You’re a smart lad and Simon likes you. That tells me all I need to know. So do you want the job?”

“Yes, Sir, yes I do.” I was excited and proud, and I couldn’t wait to tell Simon.

“Well, that’s good. I really don’t want to go to the bother of finding someone when I have a perfectly good replacement for Tess right here.” Doc got up, collecting the cups. “You made them, I’ll wash up. Mr Paulson should be in soon.”

I stretched out and winced. The pain pills had started to wear off. Doc’s eagle eye must have caught my wince; two pills and a glass of water were set in front of me.

“I’ll send you home with some more. Also, it might be worth stopping at the pharmacy for some Epsom salts. A soak will help the ache. No headaches or dizziness?”

“No, Sir.” I still felt like I’d been run over by a lorry, but at least my head didn’t ache, and working helped me take my mind off my aches and pains.

“Good. But if you do, tell Simon or myself.” Doc looked at me, his grey eyes serious.

“I promise I will.”

“Okay.” Doc sighed. “If I got my hands on those bastards....”

It was my turn to sigh. “Simon says they were from out of town, come to watch the game. They’ll be long gone by now.”

Doc nodded, rubbing a hand across his jaw. “And you don’t want the police involved?”

“No, sir, please, it’s the last thing I want. I—I have my reasons, and I hope you can respect that.” I sat up straighter.

“Rhys, I would not betray your confidence or force you to do something you’re so strongly against. You have your reasons, and that’s good enough for me.” Doc tapped the desk, looking thoughtful. “Normally, I pay Tess her wages into her bank account.”

“I don’t have one, or any ID,” I said. Dad had controlled all those things. He’d never let me have my own bank account or ID.

“Hmm. Maybe get Simon to help you organize one. I can pay your pay into Simon’s if you are okay with that.” Doc tapped the desk again.

“I can do that?” I felt like a bit of an idiot. I’d never been allowed to do anything like it, and I worried I would risk my dad finding out where I was.

“Yes, you can. You’re over eighteen. You don’t need to have a guardian or parent do it for you,” Doc answered, smiling.

“Oh!” I let out a relieved breath. This meant I could really start to get my life together— my own life, with my own friends and a job, without having to worry that my dad would disapprove, or refuse to allow me to do anything.

I sat back in my chair, a little shocked. Possibilities were opening up before me, and—I had to be honest—it was a bit frightening.

“Talk to Simon about it. I am sure he’ll be more than happy to help.” Doc shook his head, smiling. “That man is a born caretaker. He likes nothing better than to help people.”

I had to smile. Doc’s assessment was spot on. Even with my limited interactions with Simon, I could see he cared deeply about people. He’d helped a stranger, someone he barely knew, and offered me a place to live. Who did that kind of thing?

Simon, my big gentle ginger bear, that’s who.

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