Mrs Gregg hesitated and then glanced at Harry, clearly torn. ‘I don’t suppose Conner will know any more than that doctor on the mainland.’

‘Let’s give it a try—see what he says? I’ll see if he’s free,’ Flora said cheerfully, trying not to reveal that the chances of Conner having a patient with him was extremely remote.

Hoping that she wasn’t making a mistake, she went across the corridor and tapped on his door. ‘Conner?’ She walked in and found him absorbed in a website on the internet. She peered closer. ‘Wetsuits?’

‘I’m planning to do some sailing. It looks as though I’m going to have plenty of time on my hands.’ He swivelled his head and looked at her. ‘Are you here to relieve my boredom?’

She flushed. ‘I have a patient that needs to be seen by a doctor.’

‘And?’

‘You’re a doctor.’

‘Am I?’ He lounged back in his chair, his ice-blue gaze disturbingly direct. ‘So why am I sitting in an empty consulting room?’

‘Because this is Glenmore and it takes folks a while to get used to change. The last time they saw you, you were stirring up trouble all over the island. I don’t suppose anyone imagined you’d become a doctor. So will you see Harry Gregg?’

Conner’s eyes narrowed. ‘Diane’s son?’

‘Yes. He’s eight years old and a really nice little boy. Very lively usually, but not today. Diane is frightened.’

‘She always did have a tendency to overreact. I remember she slapped my face once.’

‘You probably deserved it.’

He smiled. ‘I probably did. So what do you think, Flora? Paranoid mother?’

Flora shook her head. ‘I think it’s something that needs looking at. The child is poorly, there’s no doubt about that. And he has a really weird rash. I’ve never seen anything like it before.’

Conner rose to his feet. ‘Is she going to slap my face again or run away screaming in horror if I walk into the room?’

‘I’ve no idea.’ Flora gave a weary smile. ‘Let’s try it, shall we? Harry needs to see a doctor and I’d rather it was sooner than later.’

Diane looked up as they walked into the room. ‘Dr MacNeil.’

‘Diane.’ Conner’s greeting was cursory, his eyes focused on the boy, who was now sitting on his mother’s lap, his head on her chest. ‘Hey, sport.’ He hunkered down so that he was on the same level. ‘What’s going on with you?’

Harry opened his eyes but didn’t move his head. ‘Feel bad.’

‘His temperature is thirty-nine degrees.’ Flora gently lifted Harry’s arm so that Conner could see. ‘He’s had this rash for three days.’

‘Feel horrible,’ the boy muttered, and Conner nodded.