by Chloe Carpenter
Dr Simon Dale glanced at his watch again and frowned. The new temp should have arrived half an hour ago. "Where the hell is she?" he muttered.
As if on cue, the door flew open and a dishevelled elfin-faced diminutive figure barged in, tufts of blonde hair sticking out in all directions like a birds nest, hurriedly applied eye make-up smudged ... and surely that couldn't be a washing care label on the outside of her sweater? It was. The silly woman was wearing it inside out. Simon folded his arms and appraised the late arrival coolly.
"Miss Peters I presume?"
"Um. Yes. That's me. Lucy. Lucy Peters. I-"
"You're late."
"Ah. Yes. I didn't mean to be late on my first day, but my alarm clock didn't go off, or if it did, I didn't hear it. I was up during the night, you see, and I hardly got any sleep at all. The burglar alarm on the house across the street kept going off. They've gone away for two weeks on some Caribbean cruise and-"
Simon threw up his hands and interrupted her tirade. "Spare me your excuses, please. This is not a good start. I have clinic in ten minutes and there won't be sufficient time now to show you how to go on."
"Sorry, sorry. Let me get my notebook." She rummaged through her shoulder bag. "Notebook, notebook ... it's in here somewhere." She pulled out a crumpled wad of tissues, a half eaten bar of chocolate, car keys and a packet of sweets. Her face brightened at this discovery. "Oh, I forgot I had these. I just love jelly teddy bears. The red ones are my favourite. "Would you like one?" She held out the packet.
"No I would not." He glared and pointed to the printer. "Take a couple of sheets of paper from there. I assume you have a pen?"
"Pen. Yes. Pen. Where are you, pen? It's hiding..." She began to scrabble frantically again in her bag.
Simon rolled his eyes. My God. They've sent me a lunatic. "Tell you what - here, take my pen." He handed it over and placed it in her small hand. "Now go and sit down. We don't have much time."
"Right." She scampered over to the desk and sat in the big leather chair, her feet dangling several inches from the floor. Her big liquid brown eyes gazed up at him reverently. He was something, this doctor. Mid forties, silver grey hair with dark roots, dark brows above intelligent hazel eyes, a generously proportioned mouth and firm jaw. Oh my God, she thought. He's sex on legs. She tried very hard not to stare at the rest of him. She needed to concentrate. Get a grip, Lucy. Focus, she told herself.
Simon put one hand to his head. He suddenly felt an almighty headache coming on. "Miss Peter's, that's my desk. You sit there ... if you can manage that," he added disparagingly, gesturing to a smaller desk on which sat a computer monitor, printer and telephone.
"Ooops, silly me." She gave him an apologetic look and went to sit where she was supposed to. She sat back in the chair and crossed her legs. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans and low heeled pumps with pink laces, and ... Simon stared.
"You're wearing odd socks," he said flatly. "One red, one orange."
Lucy stared at her feet and looked crestfallen. "Oh. Damn. These aren't even my work clothes. Guess I got dressed in a real hurry this morning. Sorry."
Simon looked at her in exasperation. Why oh why had he given Angela five weeks leave to go and see her daughter in Australia? How was he going to manage for the next five weeks with this ditzy blonde woman running the office? Woman? She looked like a kid. He picked up her CV from the agency, which gave her age as 24. For one wonderful moment, he thought the agency had sent her by mistake. And if that was the case, he would sent her right back!
"You're twenty-four?"
"I am. I know - I don't look my age, everybody says so. But it's true. I am twenty-four."
His brief hope was crushed. "Ok," he said resignedly. "Well, we have five minutes. Let me tell you the very basic things I need you to do, and I'll just have to catch up with you after clinic to fill you in on the other details."
"Sure." She gave him a bright smile.
Simon powered up the computer and briefly explained how to book patients in for new appointments, and how to change existing appointments. It was a sheer stroke of luck that six weeks previously Lucy had a temporary admin job at the same hospital, so she was already familiar with the computer system and data input and retrieval.
"It's all very straightforward, you just have to remember to hit Save each time you amend a record. If the phone rings, answer it and take a message. There's a coffee machine in the corridor. You can take an hour lunch break at 1pm, and if you leave the office, be sure to switch the answer phone on. There's a pamphlet in the desk drawer which will inform you about health and safety procedures and emergency evacuation in case of fire. Read and digest it. That's all. I have to go. Oh - and I suggest you turn your sweater the right way round as you have it on inside out." Without waiting for a response he stalked out of the office, leaving her staring dejectedly after him, a faint flush of embarrassment colouring her cheeks.
It was almost 1:30 by the time Simon finished his clinic. Having worked through without a break, he was dying for a cup of coffee and a bite to eat. He made his way to the staff canteen. Several female heads turned as he walked in, for Dr Simon Dale was one good looking guy. He selected a ham and cheese Panini, a bowl of salad and a coffee, and set his tray down on the nearest vacant table. Except it wasn't vacant. A small figure sat at one end. Her face brightened when she saw him.
"Hi Si.. I mean, Dr Dale. It's me, Lucy."
"Oh. So it is." Oh no!
"Did you have a good morning?" She pushed her tray along the table and clambered over three chairs so she could sit next to him.
"The usual," he said noncommittally and took a bite of his Panini. He was about to ask her how she had got on in the office, but a glance at her plate threw him off track. "What on earth is that?!"
"It's an all day breakfast. I came out without eating and I'm starving," she said, picking up her fork.
"I can see that, but what have you done to it?"
"It's a smiley face, you big old silly!"
Big old silly? He glared at her for spouting such effrontery. She carried on chattering, oblivious to his reaction.
"I rearranged things. See - his eyes are two fried eggs, his nose is a tomato, and he has a big fat curly sausage for a mouth! How cool is that?" She paused, looking to him for some sign of approbation. There was none forthcoming. "He did have two large ears made from bacon rashers," she added, "but I ate them before you got here."
Maybe it was the idiotic smiley face, or maybe it was Lucy's guileless expression, or maybe it was the incongruity of the situation - whatever it was, it made Simon laugh. It welled up inside him and he found himself chuckling, his shoulders shaking with mirth. He shook his head, smiling, and then before he fully realised what he was doing, he had harpooned some of the small curly lettuce leaves from his salad bowl and positioned them on Lucy's plate.
"Now he has some hair. Green hair with a dash of mayo, but what the hell."
"Oh!" Lucy clapped her hands. "That's wonderful. I love it. What shall we call him?"
"Eh? It's just a face on a plate. We don't call it anything," said Simon in low tones. Lucy's excitement and hand clapping was attracting attention and several bemused looks were being cast in his direction.
"He needs a name before I eat him." Lucy was adamant. "Let me think ... hmm, I think I'll call him George. My neighbour has a cat called George. He's very fat - just like his owner." She giggled and stabbed the tomato nose with her fork. "I buy him a tin of pilchards every Friday as a treat - George, that is, not his owner - and we play games chasing a ball of wool."
"Are you sure you're twenty-four?"
"Course I am. I just don't act my age all the time. It's fun being a kid. Don't you agree?"
"I'm too old to remember," he said and took another bite of his lunch. Though his tone was bland, his eyes twinkled as he regarded her appraisingly as he ate. She was a pretty little thing. Waif-like, small and dainty but with curves in all the right places, just the way he liked his women. Not that he ever dated any of the admin or medical staff. The hospital grapevine would have a field day if they knew about his private life and his very specific kinky interests. No, he had earned a reputation for being a private person and he fully intended to keep things that way.
His previous irritation with Lucy gave way to a kind of bemused fascination as he listened to her continual chatter. He couldn't have got a word in even if he wanted to. Lucy prattled non stop about the most mundane and idiotic things. Words poured forth from that sweet little mouth, and she butterflied from one topic to another without a pause.
Eventually he said, "If you don't sop talking, I'm going to..."
"Uh oh. Going to what ...?"
I'm going to take your panties off and gag you with them, is what he wanted to say. But instead, he said, "I'm going to get very frustrated because we need to talk about work matters."
"Oh, right. Sorry. I do go on a bit, don't I?" She smiled sweetly and looked at him with an earnest expression.
"You do," he agreed. "So tell me, how did you get on in the office? Any problems?"
"I loved it! There were no problems at all. I made about a dozen new appointments and I've taken loads of messages. And I did all the filing too," she said proudly.
"Filing? What filing? I didn't ask you to do any filing."
"That big pile of patient notes on your desk. I put them all away in the drawers in alphabetical order of surname." She beamed at him.
"You did WHAT?!" he thundered.
Lucy blinked. This what not what she had expected. "I filed them. It took me ages." She pouted. "I thought you'd be pleased."
"Pleased? Pleased?! They were on my desk for a reason. I need to review them all this afternoon, so you get your arse back in the office and unfile them!"
"Oh! Oh, but I ... I... can't."
"You can and you will."
"But there were so many of them," Lucy wailed. "Far too many to remember, and if I can't remember all the names, how can I get them all out again?"
"Give me strength," muttered Simon. He glanced at his watch. "I have another consultant joining me in an hour and we need those files." Grim-faced, he pushed aside his plate, rose from his seat and strode out of the cafeteria.
Lucy jumped up and ran after him. "Sorry. I'm really sorry..."
"Oh you will be," said Simon. His palm itched. If ever anyone deserved a damn good spanking, it was Lucy Peters.
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