But Helen noticed that he didn’t seem at all resentful to be seeing patients at a weekend. The GPs she’d worked with in London had all grumbled on the rare occasions they’d been on call on a Sunday, but Oliver seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.
‘Hello there, Lauren.’ He greeted the young mother with his usual smile. ‘Just popped in to see how little Pippa is.’
‘Oh, Dr Hunter, I wasn’t expecting you to call.’ Visibly flustered, Lauren tried to smooth her hair. ‘The house isn’t very tidy.’
‘I haven’t come to make an offer on your house, Lauren,’ Oliver said gently, ‘and if you think your house is in a mess, you should come and look at mine. And I don’t have a sick baby to use as an excuse.’
Lauren relaxed and gave him a wide smile. ‘Well, it would be great if you could look at her. We were up all night with her again. She’s a lot better, of course, but she’s still not right.’
‘You poor thing—you must be totally knackered. This is Helen, by the way.’ Oliver waved a hand to indicate Helen as they walked into the house. ‘She’s acting as my practice nurse while Maggie has a well-earned break.’
‘Oh, have you finally persuaded her that you can survive without her for five minutes?’ Lauren led them into a tiny sitting room. ‘Pippa’s in here. I put her in her bouncy chair for a change of scene. She was crying so much I didn’t know what to do with her.’
‘Did the hospital give you a letter for me?’
Lauren nodded and lifted a brown envelope from the top of the television. ‘They did all sorts of tests but in the end they just said it must be a virus.’
Oliver smiled sympathetically. ‘Irritating isn’t it? We train for all these years just to say it’s a virus that we can’t identify. But those tests will have excluded some worrying infections, Lauren, so in a way that’s good news.’ He put his bag down and strolled over to the baby who was kicking her legs in her chair.
‘I left her in just a vest and nappy because of her temperature,’ Lauren said anxiously. ‘I’m so terrified she might have another one of those fits. It was awful. I keep worrying about it in case it means she’s an epileptic.’
‘It doesn’t mean that, Lauren,’ Oliver said firmly. ‘Very young children can’t control their temperatures the way you and I can, and that’s why they fit. Only a minute percentage go on to develop epilepsy in later life, and although there are no guarantees I’m sure Pippa isn’t going to be one of those.’
Lauren bit her lip and shifted a pile of laundry from the sofa. ‘But she might be.’
‘Well, let’s put it like this.’ Oliver tilted his head to one side, his expression thoughtful. ‘If you buy a lottery ticket tomorrow and I tell you that you have a one in a hundred chance of winning, are you going to go out on a mad spending spree before you hear the numbers?’
Lauren laughed. ‘No, of course not. If the odds were one in a hundred then I know for sure that it wouldn’t be me.’
‘Well, those are the odds,’ Oliver said firmly, ‘so let’s treat it like the lottery, shall we? It’s so unlikely to happen that there is no point in planning for it. Now, can I take a look at her?’
Considerably reassured, Lauren bent down and undid the straps that held the baby in the seat while Oliver scanned the letter from the hospital.
‘It looks as though they were pretty thorough. Now, then.’ He tucked the letter into the pocket of his jeans and dropped to his haunches in front of the baby. ‘Hello, sweetheart, you’re looking a lot better than you did when Uncle Oliver last saw you.’
Smiling and pulling faces at the baby, he slid large hands around her tiny body and gently lifted her up.
Helen watched, transfixed, intrigued by how comfortable Oliver was with the baby.
‘She’s so gorgeous, Lauren,’ he murmured, holding the baby against his shoulder, running a hand over the downy head, feeling her fontanelle. ‘She doesn’t feel so hot now. When did she last have Calpol?’
‘Not since last night,’ Lauren said. ‘Her temperature seems to go up in the evenings.’
Oliver nodded. ‘That often happens. I’m just going to lay her on the sofa so that I can examine her.’
Helen watched while he worked, noticing how skilled and gentle he was with the baby.
‘Stop smiling at me, madam,’ he murmured as he undid her nappy. ‘It’s no good. You are so gorgeous I’m going to have to take you home with me.’
‘Well, you’re welcome to her at night,’ Lauren said dryly. ‘I’d give anything for an undisturbed night.’
‘What about your mum?’ Oliver finished his examination and redid the nappy deftly. ‘Can’t she have her for a night? I know you’re still breast-feeding but you could always express. Do you good to have a night off.’
‘I just can’t get her to take a bottle.’ Lauren gave a helpless shrug. ‘I know she’s using me as a comforter but it’s easier to let her do that than have a screaming battle.’
Oliver pulled a face. ‘It’s a tough one. Who’s your health visitor?’
‘Jenny Stevens.’