“Thanks Dr Styles,” said Lyndon gruffly, shaking Harry’s hand through the car window.
“You’re welcome, just take it easy on the way to the hospital, alright mate?” Harry bent down so that he could see through to the passenger seat at the other man who was now wearing a leg brace. “Best of luck, Jack. Hopefully it’s a clean break. Pop into the surgery next week so we can discuss the results, okay?”
“Will do,” Jack grimaced, clearly in pain, “thanks doc.”
Harry tapped the top of the car and stepped away as it slowly pulled off. The suspension creaked as it bumped lightly over the harbour cobblestones and Harry winced for poor Jack’s leg. He then turned to the other three fishermen who were tidying up on deck. “Is that you in for the day now?”
“Yeah,” Bob sighed as he stacked the crates and pots, “we can’t really go out without at least four of us onboard – it’s pretty rough out there at the moment. We’ll haul up at the Wheatsheaf for the night and hopefully head back out tomorrow with Lyndon.”
Harry looked out beyond the harbour to the angry grey sea and swallowed hard. The waves were white-capping like ferocious tentacles, desperate to smother something and drag it down into the depths. No, it didn’t look friendly out there at all. He was very glad he wasn’t in the fishing trade. He’d stick to his nicely warm and dry surgery thank you very much.
As though the sky agreed with his thoughts it started to spit with rain. Great. This really was the wettest April on record. The first dry morning of the month and he had washing hanging out in the garden – it would be soaked now. Damn it. Harry tugged the collar of his coat up and shivered. “Okay, well, enjoy your night off gentlemen.” He said genially, “I might see you later at the bar.”
He then gathered up his kit from the harbour-side and hurried back to his Range Rover before it started to really lash it down. At this rate he was seriously going to have to consider buying some waterproofs.
Stowing his ‘brace box’ in the boot and his drug bag on the backseat, Harry quickly hopped into the front just seconds before the heavens opened. It bounced off the windscreen and ran down the bonnet in great rivulets. He figured it was going to be one of those nights again – where everything was messy, complicated and feverish.
Putting the key in the ignition, he let the car roar to life and switched on the de-mister to stop the windows from fogging up. The time, according to the digital display, read 15:47. Right, back to the surgery it was then; he had orders to fax and samples to log before he could even think about calling it a day. His appointments might have finished but that didn’t mean it was home time. Not that he really minded – he could have a cup of tea while he worked and there would be no stress about getting to the kettle before any one else could steal the last of the teabags or milk, unlike in Manchester.
He took the journey slower than normal as the rain bounced even heavier off the windshield making it hard to see, even with the wipers working like the clappers. It was as he was passing the turning for the primary school that he spotted a lone figure on the pavement battling their way through pouring rain. They were at least wearing waterproofs but still looked utterly drenched. Harry’s heart went out to them and he slowed to offer the figure a lift. He beeped the horn to get their attention and pressed the button to wind the passenger window down.
The figure turned in surprise and Harry was taken aback to see familiar blue eyes squinting back at him from under the hood.
“H-hi!” Harry stammered as Louis tilted his head in question, “Can I give you a lift? It’s terrible weather.” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the pounding rain.
