Free Out on a Limb by Lynne Barrett-Lee Page A

this, only my first full week at the practice, there is a note of celebration in the air. Candice, who has only the two volume settings (one and eleven), falls upon me with delight as I enter.
    ‘Ah, Abbie!’ she cries, even before I’m fully inside, ‘Have I got exciting news for you!’
    As I’m a little light on the exciting news front right now, and feeling a touch over-burdened with the other kind, I am indeed excited to hear this. Even though I’ve no idea what the news could be. Candice seems to find almost everything exciting, so it could be just that someone’s found the teaspoon (am I the only female person left on the planet who takes sugar in their tea?), but that will do fine. I slip my jacket from my shoulders and go to hang it on the coat stand by the door. Yep, I’m really going to like working here. Because everyone’s always so happy . Perhaps I will absorb it by osmosis. ‘Great,’ I say, smiling. ‘What is it?’
    She removes her pen from between her teeth and beams. ‘You have your very first new patient,’ she tells me.
    ‘Great!’ I say again. Because it is.
    It’s a bit of a novelty to be working somewhere where a new patient is a cause for celebration. Up to now I’ve always been working in a system where volumes of new patients were not so much a cause for celebration as a cause for people shaking their heads and tutting and scowling and moaning on about shortages of staff and New Bloody Labour. But having one’s own patients in this situation is important – one’s own specific referrals are of course something to be pleased about. So I am. They made me up some natty business cards before I started work, which I have been brandishing at almost every available opportunity. They say Abigail McFadden MCSP on them, beneath the little leaping stick man that is A and P’s logo. I’m really rather proud of them. I’ve never had my own business cards before. But it’s still early days, and up to now (and for much of the immediate future I suspect), I have mainly been seeing such patients who have called for appointments, but have not specifically requested that they see anyone else. Or June’s. Who I’ve replaced. And they’re sometimes disappointed. But they get me whether they like it or not.
    I hope they do like, once they get to know me. ‘Specifically asked for me?’ I ask her, chuffed.
    ‘Yup.’ She’s still beaming. ‘Coming in Thursday week.’
    ‘That’s great,’ I say again.
    ‘Go on,’ she goes on. ‘Say “and” then.’
    ‘And what?’
    ‘Don’t you even want to know who it is?’
    ‘I assumed you were about to tell me.’
    She claps her hands together at this. ‘You are so, so lucky. Oh, I’m so excited. Come on. Have a guess.’
    ‘I can’t.’ A lot of cards. A lot of guesses.
    ‘Have a try.’
    ‘No, really, I can’t.’
    ‘Tall, blond and handsome?’
    ‘Well, that’s an encouraging start, certainly.’ Though none springs to mind. But Charlie – of course. He’s been putting the word out for me too, bless him. So now I’m thinking rugby player. Athlete. Footballer, maybe. Sports person, obviously. Hmm. Tall, blond and handsome… or perhaps an unusually well developed afghan hound? ‘Go on, then,’ I say. ‘ Who ?’
    ‘Ta ra!’ she trills. ‘Wait for it! It’s the BBC weatherman! You know . Gabriel Ash!’
    ‘Gabriel Ash ? Coming to see me ?’
    ‘Yes, to see you! Do you know him?’ she asks eagerly.
    How utterly perplexing. How very odd . I must be frowning, I realise, because she then says ‘What’s the matter? Aren’t you pleased?’
    I’m mainly quite shocked. ‘Well, I…are you sure ? I mean, he actually asked for me ?’
    She nods happily. ‘Your reputation has obviously preceded you. I mean, he obviously knows who you are, doesn’t he? Do you know him?’
    ‘Er, well, no. Not really. I mean, I’ve met him, but –’
    ‘Met him? Wow-ee. What’s he like?’
    Hmm. I think. First impression; persona ble