Jake’s smile widened. It sounded like she’d already looked into getting one. ‘There’s no stopping you, is there, Joyce? Hold your horses,’ he added as she raised herself from her chair. ‘I just want to check for any scalp tenderness and have a quick feel of your temporal arteries before you go.’
‘Now there’s an offer a girl can’t refuse.’ Arching her eyebrows in amusement, Joyce settled back down.
Examining her gently but efficiently, Jake assured her everything seemed fine, and then offered her a hand to assist her up. ‘Such a gent.’ She batted her eyelashes theatrically. ‘I would say I can manage, but it’s not often I get to hold a good-looking young man’s … Oh dear.’ She stopped, her gaze going to the door, beyond which there seemed to be a commotion in reception. ‘Sounds as if there’s a bit of a rumpus outside.’
‘It certainly does.’ He braced himself as he walked her to the door. If he wasn’t mistaken, the raised voice he could hear belonged to Dean Miller, Zoe’s husband, and he sounded upset.
They’d almost reached the door when it was banged open from the other side, narrowly missing them. ‘I need to speak to you,’ Dean said, his gaze gliding between Jake and Joyce. From the palpable fury in his eyes, it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere until he had.
Jake’s heart sank. He knew what it was Dean wanted to talk about. ‘Okay.’ He spoke evenly. ‘Can you just give me a minute to—’
‘Now.’ Dean wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
Jake’s gaze drifted past him to where Nicky bobbed into view, her face pale and clearly worried. ‘Emily’s calling the police,’ she said – for Dean’s benefit, he guessed.
‘No,’ he said quickly, noting the flash of thunder in the man’s eyes. He was close to exploding. That would do no one any good. ‘Tell her there’s no need.’
‘They wouldn’t let me see you,’ Dean said, as Nicky disappeared back to the desk. ‘Kept telling me I had to make an appointment. I told them I don’t need a fucking appointment. I need information. And I need it—’
‘Whoa.’ Jake held up a hand. ‘Calm down, Dean. Take a seat.’ He indicated a chair. ‘Let me make sure Mrs Simpson is safely on her way, then we’ll have a word.’
Dean didn’t move. Swiping a hand agitatedly over the back of his neck, he glared hard at Jake. ‘You need to tell me,’ he demanded. ‘Was it a miscarriage?’
‘Dean, wait.’ Jake’s heart dropped. ‘This isn’t a conversation you want to have here. Just give me a minute and—’
‘It’s a simple enough question,DoctorMerriden.’ Dean’s voice was full of contempt. ‘Was it a fucking miscarriage or did she have an abortion?’
Christ.Concerned for Joyce’s safety, Jake was relieved to see Emily skidding through from reception. ‘Sorry,’ she said, her cheeks flushed with a combination of frustration and embarrassment. ‘He insisted on seeing you. I told him you were back-to-back with appointments, but …’
Jake nodded, understanding. Seeing the mood Dean was in, he guessed she couldn’t have stopped him. He supposed the whole surgery had overheard what was going on, but that wasn’t his major concern right now. What was worrying him was that if Zoe hadn’t been honest with Dean – and judging by the state he was in, she hadn’t been – then how did he know? ‘I’ll come out to reception shortly,’ he said, scanning Emily’s eyes warily. The information had come from here, as had the information in the letter sent to Michael. It had to have done. The question was, who would leak it, and in God’s name, why? Lives were being destroyed here. He couldn’t believe that anyone would do that.
Making sure Joyce was well out of the fray, heading back to reception with Emily, he closed the door and turned to face Dean. The man’s eyes were shot through with a mixture of bewilderment and anger. He wasn’t going to leave until he had answers. And Jake simply couldn’t give him any.
‘Well?’ he demanded.
‘Sit down, Dean, please.’ Jake nodded again towards the chair.
Folding his arms across his chest, Dean didn’t budge.
Jake wondered where the hell to start. ‘I understand your frustration, Dean. I—’
‘Right,’ Dean sneered. ‘I doubt that, Jake. I doubt that very much. Are you going to tell me what I need to know, or not?’
Jake sighed inwardly. ‘I can’t, Dean,’ he said apologetically. ‘I can see you’re upset, and I sympathise, but I can’t disclose private patient information.’
‘Well someone can, obviously,’ Dean retaliated, his look now bordering on murderous. ‘Do you realise some bastard sent a bereavement card?’
Jake furrowed his brow in confusion. Had Zoe confided in a friend or her family? he wondered. If so, how had Dean learned what he obviously had, unless they’d mentioned—
‘“So sorry you had to have an abortion”, it said.’ Dean cut his thoughts short. ‘So are you going to stand there and tell me she didn’t?’
Jesus.Jake drew in a tight breath. ‘I’m not telling you anything, Dean. I can’t. It’s just not within my power to—’
‘I don’t give a flying fuck about your bureaucratic claptrap,’ Dean spat. ‘I have a right to know. We’re talking about mychild. You can’t keep the information from me.’
‘I have no choice but to, Dean. You need to speak to Zoe. I’m sorry, I can’t tell you what you want to know.’
Tipping his head to one side, Dean eyed him narrowly. ‘You just did, though, didn’t you?’
