“Cat? You there?” Andy’s face hovered at the window next to the door. It was still hours from the bar being open, and there wasn’t any need for him to be secretive. I padded over and opened the door. Andy, filling the door-frame, looked around furtively, and I suppressed a giggle. He really wasn’t built for covert operations, being at least six-four. He wasn’t exactly clumsy, but he moved with an earnestness that reminded me of a cartoon character trying to sneak up on someone. “Be vewwwy, vewwy quiet…”

“Come in, Andy. It’s okay, there’s no-one here. Honestly, it’s fine.”

Andy sidled in. I’d never seen a man that big sidle, but it was unquestionably the only word to describe what he was doing. I put my head on one side and looked at him.

“Andy, you do realize that’s about the most suspicious possible way for a human being to walk, don’t you?”

He looked at me sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess it’s a bit much. It’s just that…I had to make up a story to Bea about what I was doing this morning, and I couldn’t let her see me come down here. I told her I was out picking up rugby gear for training; if I’d told her I was coming down to see you, she would have started quizzing me.” He shook his head. “And once she starts, she’ll get the truth out of you one way or another.”

I looked at him. “Yeah. Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. Okay,” I commanded, “up on the table there, Mr. Macfarlane. I don’t exactly have a reclining bed like I ought to, so the table is going to have to do.”

Andy sat on the edge of the table gingerly. “Is it going to take my weight? I mean, I’m not the thinnest guy in town.”

“No, you’re not, but it’ll be fine. It’s had people on it before.” I refrained from mentioning that the same table had supported Farrah’s weight while dancing on it one evening, an episode which still gave me nightmares, mostly since I didn’t have anything with which to set broken ankles. “Come on, up. Lie flat.”

Stretching out, Andy looked up at me worriedly as I bent over him, pushing my sleeves up. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to push on a few areas and get you to tell me if you can feel me pushing, and to describe what you’re feeling, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. First, I’d like you to pull up the leg of your shorts, and unbutton your shirt. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure.” He struggled a bit to do it prone, but soon he was bare-chested, laying back on the table. I worked my way around his neck and chest area, examining him.

Next, I moved to his thigh. “Can you feel this?” I pressed firmly with my fingers in specific places at the bottom of his quadricep.

“Mmm. Not really.”

“Okay, how about this?” I stopped pressing, but didn’t tell him.

“Still nothing.” Andy’s voice took on a worried tone. “Is that bad?”

“It’s fine, Andy,” I soothed. “It’s just part of the examination. Nothing to worry about.” As I worked my way up his thigh, I kept talking to him, distracting him, asking about rugby and how the garage was going. Andy responded cheerfully enough, but there was an undercurrent of tension in his voice that I could hear every time he spoke.

“Ow!” He jumped.

“What was that?” I hadn’t been touching him at the time.

Andy indicated his thigh. “Just…somewhere there, I got a sort of shooting pain. Hell, that was quite painful. That’s never happened before, not like that.”

I looked at him. “Has anything similar happened?”

“Yeah, I guess. Just not that bad. What does it mean?”

“I’m not sure yet. Let’s wait and see.” I fetched a fork from the bar. “Okay, now I’m going to press into your thigh with something pointed, and I want you to tell me if you can feel that.”

As I completed the examination, I stepped back from the table. “Okay, Andy, we’re all done. You can sit up now.”

The big man swung his legs to the side of the table and slid off it. “So, what’s the situation, Doc?”

I winced a little at the reminder I was—technically—practicing medicine without a license. “Well…you’re exhibiting some symptoms which indicate the potential for a neurological issue. It’s not anything you should be worried about immediately, but as we discussed, I would now like you to go and make an appointment with a qualified physician and get referred for a more in-depth set of tests.”

The blood drained from Andy’s face. “Hell. Do you really think it’s something to do with my brain?” For a moment, he looked like a frightened kid. “I mean…was it a head knock or something?”

I put my hand on his arm. “Andy, we really can’t tell, and there’s no reason to get worried yet, okay? Just go to the doctor, and get yourself checked out. We’ll just take it one day at a time.” From his expression, I could tell that this was the last thing he’d wanted to hear, but, having examined him, I couldn’t do anything except give him the best advice possible.

“Are you sure? I mean, okay, you’re the doctor.” Andy turned and slapped both hands down on the bar, his shoulders shaking. “Hell. Bea’s going to freak out about this. When she finds out…” He tailed off.

“Andy,” I said softly, “the last thing I want to do is worry you. There’s a good chance this is just an incidental bout of some kind of nerve damage; that kind of thing happens all the time, and it just goes away of its own accord. But if there’s even a chance it could be something more serious, then early detection and treatment is absolutely critical, okay?”

“Treatment? What kind of treatment?” Andy was looking away from me, staring at the bar.

I sighed. “I can’t tell you, until we find out what’s going on. Look, you need to get this sorted out for Bea, not just for yourself. You know how much she cares about you. How would she feel if you didn’t take care of yourself?”

“Yeah.” Andy let out a long breath he’d evidently been holding. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Hell,” I laughed, “remember when she came to get you from here at the bar when you’d been celebrating after that game? That was some scary stuff.”

Andy grinned. “Yeah, that was pretty embarrassing. I thought I’d finished being dragged out of places by my big sister when I was about ten, but clearly not.”

“I thought she was going to grab you by the ear, honestly.” I laughed along with him, trying to get his mind off the worry about what was going on with his body.

“Well, she can’t hardly reach my ear these days. But back when we were little and about the same size, yeah, I did get a fair bit of direct physical intervention.” He turned around and leaned back against the bar. “Okay. I’ll ring up tomorrow and make an appointment.”

“Do it this afternoon.” I wasn’t giving up. “Do it for your sister. Get it sorted out.”

Andy rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, you’re right.” He looked sideways at me. “Man, you’re as tough as my sister when you want to be.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, Andy Macfarlane. It’s a shame she doesn’t like me a bit more.”

“Like you?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “Bea likes you fine. She doesn’t compliment anyone very often, but she’s talked more than once about what a great job you’ve done to fix up this place and keep it going.”

“That’s kind of her.” I was pleased, although deep down I wondered if Andy was exaggerating slightly. “Although I have to say, she wasn’t the most friendly person I’ve ever encountered the other day, when I came to ask about the oven. If that’s how she talks to people she likes, I’d hate to see her with people she doesn’t like.”

Andy readjusted his shorts, and scratched his bare chest. “Yeah, I know. My sister sounds tough, but you have to understand.” He looked around the empty room. “We…didn’t have the easiest time growing up, see? We were foster kids, and we got put in a bunch of homes. Some of them were good. Some of them,” his face darkened, “weren’t so good.”

“Oh, Andy.” I put a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I knew you’d had a bit of a time of it growing up, but I didn’t realize—”

He waved away my concerns. “No, no, honestly. Don’t feel sorry for us. Everything’s worked out fine, right? We’re good. It’s just,” he looked directly at me, “Bea had to take care of me when this was all happening. I was only about five, and she was about twelve. She won’t tell me about it, but from what I remember, she had to see and deal with some things that twelve-year-olds basically shouldn’t have to handle.” He gestured with one hand. “So, every time she perceives anything as a threat, to me, or to us, she sort of goes into that same mode. I genuinely think she can’t help it.”

I nodded slowly. “I see. I’m not a threat, Andy.”

“Of course, Cat. Of course, you aren’t. Hell,” he held out both hands, “I’d be screwed right now if it wasn’t for you. Thanks, man. I really appreciate what you’ve done. And Bea will too. One day.”

“No problem, Andy. I’m just glad I could help.” His smile was so broad and genuine that without thinking, I hugged him spontaneously.

There was a noise of the door creaking open behind them, and footsteps in the doorway. Andy stiffened, and I felt a chill of dread. If that’s Beatrice, I am in serious trouble, given that I have my arms around her brother, and he’s got his shirt off. She spun around.

“Whoops,” Ryan said, looking directly at us. “Didn’t mean to intrude.” He disappeared up the stairs just a little bit too quickly to be nonchalant.