Praise for
Alison Roberts:

‘The Legendary Playboy Surgeon is written with superb understanding of human emotions. Author Alison Roberts touches the heart with this poignant tale of fresh starts, past wounds and second chances.’ —Contemporary Romance Reviews

‘Readers will be moved by this incredibly sweet story about a family that is created in the most unexpected way.’

—RT Book Reviews on The Honourable Maverick

About the Author

ALISON ROBERTS lives in Christchurch, New Zealand, and has written over sixty Mills & Boon® Medical™ Romances. As a qualified paramedic she has personal experience of the drama and emotion to be found in the world of medical professionals, and loves to weave stories with this rich background—especially when they can have a happy ending. When Alison is not writing you’ll find her indulging her passion for dancing or spending time with her friends (including Molly the dog) and her daughter Becky, who has grown up to become a brilliant artist. She also loves to travel, hates housework, and considers it a triumph when the flowers outnumber the weeds in her garden.

Recent titles by Alison Roberts:

ALWAYS THE HERO (Earthquake!) NYC ANGELS: AN EXPLOSIVE REUNION (NYC Angels) ST PIRAN’S: THE WEDDING! (St Piran’s Hospital) MAYBE THIS CHRISTMAS …? THE LEGENDARY PLAYBOY SURGEON (Heartbreakers of St Patrick’s Hospital) FALLING FOR HER IMPOSSIBLE BOSS (Heartbreakers of St Patrick’s Hospital) SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: ZOE’S BABY (Sydney Harbour Hospital) ST PIRAN’S: THE BROODING HEART SURGEON (St Piran’s Hospital)

Twice as Good
Alison Roberts

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

IT HAD to be the Monday morning from hell.

The aggressive burst of steam that escaped as the autoclave hatch opened clutched viciously at Janet Muir’s fingers. She dropped the stainless steel tongs she was holding and swore softly but vehemently.

‘You should open the door a bit more slowly.’

Janet’s gaze flew to the speaker. ‘Thank you, Dr Spencer.’ Her tone was unappreciative. She snatched the tongs from the floor. ‘If I had ten seconds to spare I would have done exactly that.’

‘Sorry, Jan.’ Oliver Spencer’s smile was contrite. ‘Is your hand OK?’

‘Only third-degree burns. I’ll live.’ Janet pulled the tray clear of the autoclave and deposited it onto the waiting towel.

‘Has that lab result on Jessica Andrews come through yet? She still hasn’t shown much improvement and I think we’ll need to change antibiotics.’

‘Try the fax machine,’ Janet suggested. ‘I haven’t had time to look yet. I had no idea how chaotic things would be with both Josh and Toni away on their honeymoon. Has Dr Singh arrived yet?’

‘No.’ Oliver Spencer looked worried. ‘I’m just going to try ringing her again. Did she usually turn up on time when she was doing that week’s locum for me?’

‘Always. In fact, Toni told me she asked for a key so she could turn up early.’

Oliver glanced at his watch. ‘I wouldn’t call 10 a.m. early. I’ll give her a call while I’m in the office.’ Oliver turned away, then paused. ‘On second thoughts, I’ll do it in my room. Who is making that racket?’

‘Sophie’s next patient.’ Janet sighed. The wailing of a fractious baby was a sound that would get on anyone’s nerves in ten seconds flat. The staff of St David’s Medical Centre had been subjected to ten minutes’ worth so far. ‘Maybe Dr Singh will arrive any minute and rescue us.’

There was no sign of any assistance when Janet hurried back into the main office a few minutes later. The young receptionist, Sandy Smith, was looking harassed.

‘I can’t find the file for Joshua Young anywhere and he’s Sophie’s next patient.’

‘Try Josh’s office,’ Janet advised. ‘There are often a few files lurking in a corner. Has Oliver had any luck tracking down our locum yet?’

‘No.’ Sandy bit her lip and looked even more harassed. ‘I’m supposed to ring the agency. I got distracted, hunting for that baby’s file. He won’t stop crying and the phone never stops ringing. See?’ Sandy pointed to the offending device as the telephone rang to illustrate her point.

‘I’ll get it.’ Janet grinned. ‘You go and see if you can find the file. Don’t worry too much if you can’t. I’m sure Sophie will cope.’

Janet dealt quickly with the phone call. She was about to summon her next patient when Oliver beckoned from the office doorway.

‘I’ve got May Little in my room. Could you do a repeat ECG on her, please?’

‘You’re kidding!’ Janet’s dismay was evident. ‘I’ve got an eighteen-month check and immunisation waiting, and Mrs Endicott is here early for her iron shot and blood test. Miss Little’s ECG last Friday took me half an hour!’

The patient’s name was ironically inappropriate. May Little was morbidly obese and the undergarments she used to try and give her bulk some semblance of shape made Janet think of attempts on Fort Knox. She was also a rather odd lady and Janet sighed at the prospect of another encounter so soon.

‘Is she undressed?’ she asked Oliver pointedly.

Oliver was backing out of the office rapidly. ‘Not quite. I’ll send her down to you.’

‘Can’t you do it?’ Janet pleaded, but Oliver was now conveniently out of hearing range. Janet stepped out of the office and stood beneath the archway that separated the waiting room from the hallway. ‘Sorry, Mrs Endicott. I’ll be a few minutes yet.’

‘I’ve got an appointment with my hairdresser at eleven. I can’t wait all day, dear.’

Janet smiled apologetically. Sandy appeared in the hallway, waving a manila case file triumphantly, and Janet’s smile brightened. ‘Good for you,’ she congratulated her.

The front door opened as the telephone rang yet again. Janet hesitated but went back into the office to help Sandy cope for a minute. The new arrival was a woman who was balancing a child on one hip.

‘I’m Ruth Prendergast,’ she told Janet. ‘I haven’t got an appointment and we don’t even live in Christchurch. We’re just down here visiting my mother but Katy has been to see Dr Cooper once before and she’s really not very well this morning.’

‘What’s the problem?’ Janet smiled at the girl who did look rather pale.

‘I think she’s running a temperature and she won’t eat or drink anything. She’s unusually quiet as well. I know it’s probably nothing but Katy has had a heart murmur since birth and I do tend to worry about her.’

‘Did Dr Cooper know of her medical history?’

‘Oh, yes. He was marvellous. He even rang her doctor in Auckland to check up on things.’

‘How long ago would it have been since you saw Dr Cooper?’

‘I think it was about this time last year.’

Sandy had finished her call. Janet pointed at a row of files separated from the main system. ‘See if you can find a file for Katy Prendergast amongst the casuals there.’ Janet turned back to Katy’s mother. ‘We’ll get someone to look at Katy as soon as we can, but I’m afraid you might have a bit of a wait. As you can see, we’re rather busy. Dr Cooper is away on his honeymoon and our locum hasn’t shown up yet.’ Janet heard Sandy groan behind her.

‘Oh, no! I still haven’t rung the agency.’

Ruth Prendergast was smiling. ‘I don’t mind waiting. I feel a lot better just being somewhere close to medical assistance.’

Janet nodded and smiled. ‘Make yourselves comfortable. There are plenty of books and toys.’ She could see Miss Little standing outside the office door. She was clutching a solid-looking handbag. A tight hat was jammed on her head and her thick woollen coat was firmly buttoned. Not quite undressed, indeed!

Janet ushered her patient into the treatment room and closed the door behind them. ‘We’ll need to get you undressed, Miss Little, so I can take the ECG.’ Janet briskly pulled the curtain to screen the bed from the door.

‘Did you know that you have a cat in your waiting room?’

‘Yes. That’s Outboard. St David’s sort of acquired him quite recently. Did you not see him when you came in on Friday? He loves talking to people in the waiting room.’

‘I don’t like cats.’ Miss Little had made no move to start undressing. ‘They carry germs.’

‘We don’t let him come in here,’ Janet said reassuringly. ‘This is the only place we keep sterile equipment.’ She reached out an encouraging hand to relieve her patient of the handbag. ‘Have you been getting some more chest pain?’

Miss Little backed away, a protective arm now enclosing the handbag. ‘Germs travel. They can go a very long way.’

‘Not this far.’ Janet decided to take a firm approach. ‘Just take off everything down to your petticoat for me, Miss Little. Like you did on Friday.’ Janet collected syringes, a vacutainer and tourniquet as she spoke. She opened a small cupboard to extract an ampoule of injectable iron solution. ‘I’ll be back in a minute or two, when you’re all ready.’ Janet moved briskly. She could do Mrs Endicott’s test and treatment in the side room. At least that would be one empty seat in the waiting area.

Mrs Endicott was delighted at the unexpectedly prompt attention.

‘It’s not that I like to make a nuisance of myself,’ she explained to Janet. ‘I don’t even want to go to the hairdresser today. It’s far too nice a day to sit around for hours having a perm.’

‘It is a lovely day,’ Janet agreed. She tied the tourniquet around Mrs Endicott’s upper arm. ‘Just squeeze your hand for me a few times.’

‘A perfect drying day,’ Mrs Endicott continued contentedly. ‘Monday’s always been my washing day.’

‘Every day’s my washing day.’ Janet deftly inserted the needle and clicked the vacutube into the plastic holder. ‘But not today, unfortunately. I turned the washing machine on this morning and the next thing I knew I had a flood on the laundry floor.’

‘Oh, dear! You’ve got two little boys, too, haven’t you?’

‘Yes. Twins. Adam and Rory.’ Janet removed the full test tube and then pressed a cotton ball to Mrs Endicott’s elbow as she withdrew the needle. ‘They’re six. Nearly seven.’

‘You must have a lot of washing to do, then.’

‘Heaps.’ Janet agreed ruefully. She thought of the pile of muddy jeans, track pants and sweatshirts she had walked out on this morning, and sighed deeply. ‘In fact, it’s quite unbelievable how many items of clothing two small boys can go through over a weekend. If I don’t get the machine fixed tonight, they may well have to go to school tomorrow in their pyjamas.’ Janet picked up a syringe. ‘Let’s get this injection over with and that’ll be you. I’ll ring you when we get the results of this sample and let you know when we need to check your levels again. Hopefully, we’re getting your anaemia under control now.’

Miss Little eyed the blood sample Janet carried back into the treatment room for labelling.

‘I hope you’re not intending to take any blood from me.’

‘Dr Spencer hasn’t ordered any blood tests, Miss Little. I think he wants to see the trace of your heart first.’ Janet looked disbelievingly at May Little’s foundation garment. Was it an antique or did they still manufacture genuine corsets? ‘Can we undo this lacing bit on the front?’ Janet struggled to keep her face straight. ‘I need to stick an electrode on just about here.’ She touched what felt like some steel reinforcement.

‘You just never know, do you?’

‘What about, Miss Little?’

‘What they do with the blood. What they really test it for.’

‘Oh, I don’t think they do anything they’re not asked to.’ Janet clipped the electrodes into place on the sticky patches. ‘They haven’t got the time and it’s all too expensive these days.’

May Little looked unconvinced. ‘They already know too much,’ she informed Janet knowingly. ‘They’re not going to get any of my blood.’

‘Mmm.’ Janet ripped off the rhythm strip. If Miss Little needed a blood test Janet was going to make sure it was Oliver who did the deed. ‘Stay here for a moment, Miss Little. I’ll just get Dr Spencer to have a look at this.’

Oliver was pacing around his consulting room. ‘Would you believe it?’ he demanded of Janet incredulously. ‘The locum agency just rang to ask if we’d had the message from Dr Singh. Apparently her mother took ill and she flew back to India yesterday. They wait until 11 a.m. and then ring to ask if we want someone else.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said of course we want someone else. We wanted someone else at 9 a.m. Before the waiting room started overflowing.’

Janet winced at the choice of vocabulary. She would have to find time to ring a washing-machine repair firm or she would be in trouble tomorrow morning. Oliver was still speaking distractedly.

‘Poor Sophie’s not feeling at all well herself. She threw up three times before we even got to work.’

‘She’s got the written exam for her GP registration tomorrow, hasn’t she? Is it nerves, do you think?’

‘No.’ Oliver couldn’t suppress a grin as he reached for the ECG trace Janet was holding outstretched. ‘We’re pregnant.’

Janet gasped in surprise. ‘I didn’t even think of that!’

‘Neither did we.’ Oliver was still grinning. ‘Toni did. She thought that was why Sophie was so tired and hungry all the time, but she didn’t miss a period. Twice. They were a lot lighter, she said, but they were still on time. You could have bowled us both over when we got the results of the blood test. I talked a mate into doing a scan over the weekend and it turns out she’s about ten weeks along.’

Janet was nodding vigorously. ‘The same thing happened to me. Exactly. Only I didn’t find out until I was twelve weeks pregnant. Gave the father enough time to swan off and get someone else pregnant.’

‘You’re joking!’ Oliver’s face was a picture of disgust. ‘I never knew. What a bastard!’

‘You said it.’ Janet tried to lighten the atmosphere with a grin. ‘No wonder I was put off men for life, was it? No chance now, even if the twins are desperate for a father.’

‘Did he know about the twins?’

‘No.’ Janet looked thoughtful. ‘I was going to tell him but there didn’t seem much point when I found out about the other woman.’ Janet laughed without a trace of amusement. ‘She was my best friend, would you believe?’

Oliver didn’t look amused either. ‘We’re not all like that, Jan. You’ll find the right person one of these days.’

‘That’s the problem, Oliver,’ Janet said sadly. She kept her gaze on the ECG strip which Oliver appeared to have forgotten he was holding. ‘I thought I had found the right person. I was so sure of it. Now I’ll never be able to trust my own judgment again.’ She managed another smile. ‘Anyway, I’m so pleased about you and Sophie. That’s great news.’

‘Thanks. We’re delighted. At least, I’m delighted and I’m sure Sophie will be, too, when she stops throwing up all the time.’ Oliver finally spread the trace out beside the one already on his desk. ‘That’s good.’ He nodded seconds later. ‘No change at all. Tell her to come back in as soon as she’s dressed.’

‘You’ve probably got time for a coffee,’ Janet told him dryly. ‘Or you could have a quick look at a wee girl in the waiting room. She’s a casual, in town visiting her grandmother, but she’s been here before to see Josh. She’s running a fever and is anorexic. She’s also got a cardiac history of some kind.’

‘OK. Put her in the side room and I’ll be there in a minute. I hope we don’t get too many casuals today.’

‘What did the agency say in the end?’

‘They’ll send someone else. When or if they can find someone. There’s a heavy demand for locums at present. Apparently we’re in the middle of conference season.’

Luckily, Miss Little had decided to dress herself again without waiting for clearance. Janet despatched her towards Oliver’s room. There was an unusual silence in the waiting area as she headed back to the front office. All conversation had stopped. Sandy was staring over the counter, looking slightly pale. Janet’s nose provided the first clue to the new development to the day. Young Katy Prendergast had vomited, dousing both the carpet and the contents of the toy basket. Eighteen-month-old Toby Dawson was openly fascinated. Katy’s mother was appalled.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry! Can I find something to clean up with?’

‘I’ll do that,’ Janet told her. ‘Don’t worry. These things happen.’ She nudged Sandy. ‘Take Katy and her mum down to the side room. Get one of the cardboard containers out of my dressings cupboard in case Katy feels sick again.’

Joshua Young’s mother emerged from Sophie Bennett’s room. Joshua was still howling and his mother looked weary. Her expression changed and her nose wrinkled with distaste as she moved towards the counter. Sophie followed her patient out. Her eyes widened in dismay as she neared the waiting room, then she clapped her hand over her mouth and nose and ran for the toilet, slamming the door hurriedly shut behind her.

Janet donned gloves and quickly gathered a bucket of hot water and disinfectant, tucking a supply of floor cloths under her arm. Toby’s mother was trying to keep the active toddler away from the toy basket.

‘Take him into the treatment room, Margaret,’ Janet suggested. ‘I won’t be long. Sorry to have kept you waiting.’

‘No problem.’ Toby’s mother smiled. ‘You look like you’re having a bad morning.’

Janet nodded wearily. There were still three people left in the waiting room after Margaret and Toby left. One was waiting to see Sophie who had still not emerged from the toilet. May Little was in Oliver’s room and Katy was next in line for his attention. The elderly Mr Beaumont and his wife would have to wait a while longer for their appointment to see Dr Spencer.

Sandy Smith looked ready to cry. ‘I wish Toni was here,’ she told Janet mournfully. ‘I don’t think I’m ready to cope with this job on my own. I’m only a receptionist, not a practice manager.’

‘You’re not on your own,’ Janet told her. ‘I’m here. And this is as bad as it gets around here. Honestly! If you can cope with this, you can cope with anything.’

Sandy sniffed dubiously and Janet patted her arm. ‘Open the windows in here for a while. As soon as I’ve finished with wee Toby I’ll come back and look after the desk and you can have half an hour for lunch. Take a walk by the river and get some sunshine and fresh air.’

Sandy brightened. ‘I could go down to the shops. Outboard’s getting low on cat food and kitty litter.’

Janet eyed the still firmly closed door of the toilet. ‘Get some water crackers as well. They’re supposed to be good for morning sickness.’

Not that there was much of the morning left. Toby and his mother had been waiting for over an hour for their appointment.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Janet apologised again. ‘It’s been chaos this morning. I don’t think we had any idea how disruptive it was going to be, having both Josh and Toni away at the same time. And our locum didn’t show up.’

‘I’m not bothered,’ Margaret assured her. ‘It’s not often I get the chance to sit and read magazines. Where did Josh and Toni go for their honeymoon?’

‘They’re cruising the Caribbean,’ Janet said with mock bitterness. ‘If they send a postcard of some tropical paradise with ‘‘wish you were here’’ scribbled on the back, it will definitely be the last straw.’

Both women laughed, and Toby beamed at the sound. Janet held out her hand.

‘Come and stand by the giraffe, sweetheart. Let’s see how tall you’ve got.’

She recorded the measurement on Toby’s file. ‘He’s shot up,’ she told Margaret. ‘That’s a huge increase since his fifteen-month check.’

‘Goodness knows where he’s getting the energy to grow from. I can’t get him to eat a thing.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Janet said with a grin. ‘The fight I had this morning, trying to get my boys to eat breakfast!’

‘You mean they haven’t grown out of it yet?’

‘It gets worse when they start watching TV,’ Janet warned. ‘All the ads for the new high-sugar, high-fat, junk cereal they keep coming up with. It’s a constant battle.’

‘So what do you give the twins for breakfast?’

‘Porridge,’ Janet said defensively. ‘It was good enough for me when I was growing up and I wasn’t even allowed brown sugar and milk on it.’ She lifted Toby onto the scales.

‘Toby likes porridge.’ Margaret sighed. ‘It’s the meat and vegetables I can’t get into him.’

‘You’re obviously doing quite well enough.’ Janet steadied the toddler before checking the reading. ‘He’s right up the charts for both weight and height.’ She lifted Toby onto the bed and tickled a smile out of her small patient. ‘Do you like porridge, then, Toby?’

Toby nodded happily.

‘I wish my boys did. They say it’s got too many toenails in it.’

Toby looked nonplussed. So did Margaret. ‘Toe-nails?’

‘They’re just the oat husks,’ Janet explained. ‘I make the real stuff that you have to soak overnight. It’s healthier, not to mention a lot cheaper.’ She unbuttoned the fastening on the shoulder of Toby’s bright blue jersey. ‘We’ll take this off, shall we, darling? Dr Sophie is going to come and listen to your chest in a minute and look in your ears and down your throat. Do you think she’ll be able to see the porridge you had for breakfast?’

Toby nodded gleefully. He stuck his arms up helpfully as Janet pulled the sleeves of his jersey clear. She excused herself to fetch Sophie but was waylaid by Sandy, who spoke in a whisper.

‘That funny little man that looks like a garden gnome just came in.’

‘Mr Collins?’

Sandy nodded. ‘He hasn’t got an appointment but he says the doctors will want to see him urgently. What shall I say?’

Janet sighed. Mr Collins was a regular patient. Too regular. ‘What are his symptoms today?’

‘He says he’s got a crushing central chest pain radiating to his jaw and left arm. He’s sweating and nauseated and he’s having palpy something or other.’

‘Palpitations.’ Janet chuckled. ‘You’ll have to borrow Mr Collins’s textbook some time. He doesn’t need it any more. I think he’s learned off every symptom by heart.’ Janet pondered the situation briefly. ‘Tell him to have a seat. Maybe I can keep him happy by taking his blood pressure and doing an ECG. He hasn’t picked a very good day to come looking for a bit of attention, has he?’

Sophie hadn’t quite finished with her patient. She still looked wan as she came into the treatment room ten minutes later.

‘I like powwidge,’ Toby informed Sophie. ‘Wiv toenails.’

Sophie gave Janet a despairing glance and rushed out of the room. Janet had to laugh. ‘I don’t believe this. Let me see if Oliver can come and see Toby. Sophie might be held up for a while. She’s in a rather delicate state.’

It was another fifteen minutes before Margaret was able to take Toby home for his lunch. Sandy took the opportunity to escape for her break and Janet tidied up the treatment room, before moving back to the main office to man the telephones. It was only then that she remembered Mr Collins. He was sitting quietly in the corner of the waiting room. Too quietly.

‘Oliver!’ Janet shouted. ‘Sophie! Come quickly!’

Janet Muir’s strength was out of proportion to her slim build. She had no real difficulty transferring Mr Collins to the floor. She had tilted his head back to open his airway and was feeling his neck for the carotid pulse as both doctors rushed in.

‘No pulse, no respirations,’ she reported. Pinching the elderly man’s nose, Janet covered his mouth with her own and inflated his lungs with two deep, full breaths.

Oliver positioned his hands on Mr Collins’s chest to begin cardiac compressions. ‘Grab the life pack,’ he directed Sophie. ‘And a bag mask unit.’

Sophie was back within seconds. She stuck the electrodes in place and Oliver stopped compressions while they looked at the screen.

‘Ventricular fibrillation,’ Oliver muttered. Sophie had the large sticky pads ready as Oliver cut through Mr Collins’s clothing. He positioned the paddles. ‘Everybody clear,’ he instructed.

Janet lifted the mask away from skin contact. Sandy walked in just as Mr Collins’ body jerked in response to the electrical shock.

‘Oh, my God!’ she said in horror.

‘Grab the oxygen cylinder from my room, Sandy,’ Janet called. ‘And then call an ambulance. Mr Collins has had a cardiac arrest.’

Sandy dropped the tins of cat food and the large bag of kitty litter by the front door. She ran to collect the oxygen cylinder.

‘Good girl,’ Janet said calmly. ‘Now call the ambulance.’

Sandy backed away, staring as Oliver raised the paddles again. ‘Charging to 360 joules,’ he stated. ‘Sophie, get an IV line in as soon as you can and draw up one milligram of adrenaline. Janet, find some lignocaine and some more adrenaline.’

Janet opened the drug cupboard in the treatment room hurriedly to locate the requested drugs. She could hear the wail of the ambulance siren in the distance. She could also hear the loud knocking on the front door. Hoping that Sandy would have the initiative not to allow an early afternoon patient to stumble in on the emergency, Janet grabbed some extra IV supplies and headed back.

‘I’m sorry,’ she heard Sandy calling loudly, ‘but we can’t see any patients just yet. We’re in the middle of an—’

Janet saw the door being pushed open firmly. ‘I’m not a patient,’ she heard the visitor assert. ‘I’m the locum. My God, what’s going on in here?’

‘Cardiac arrest,’ Oliver stated tersely. ‘Come and take over the compressions, would you?’

The newcomer moved swiftly. Janet found herself staring at his back as he crouched over Mr Collins. His hands were positioned unerringly, his compressions smoothly confident. ‘How much adrenaline has he had?’

‘Three doses of one milligram so far.’

‘What about a bolus dose of lignocaine?’

Janet handed the ampoule to Oliver and stepped back. Sophie was ventilating Mr Collins, using the bag mask unit, now attached to high-flow oxygen. Janet stood behind the newcomer, listening to his verbal exchanges with Oliver, thankful she wasn’t needed any closer just now. She was aware of her skin prickling all over. Every word uttered by this man sent a new shiver down her spine.

‘How long has CPR been in progress?’

Oliver glanced at the clock. ‘Ten minutes.’ He injected the dose of lignocaine.

‘Was the collapse witnessed?’

‘Not exactly.’ Sophie was squeezing the bag on the mask automatically. ‘Mr Collins was sitting in the waiting room for a while by himself. He was pulseless but not cyanosed when he was found.’ Sophie glanced up at Janet who bit her lip.

She knew how it would sound. Patients dropping dead in a doctor’s waiting room unnoticed wasn’t exactly a great recommendation for a medical centre. It would seem even worse when it was known that Mr Collins had come in describing the classic symptoms of a heart attack. How could she explain that this patient had turned up repeatedly over the years with the classic symptoms of every ailment known to man. That he’d had baseline cardiological investigations only weeks ago which hadn’t revealed any pathology. That their experienced practice manager, who would have instinctively picked up a genuine emergency, was at present on the other side of the world. The bare facts of the emergency would present a picture of a medical centre that wasn’t up to scratch. Janet didn’t want this locum to have that as his first impression of St David’s.

‘Let’s give this another shot.’ Oliver pushed a button on the life pack. ‘Charging to 360 joules again. If this doesn’t do anything, we’ll intubate.’

The ambulance crew arrived as the interference on the monitor screen settled. The spikes of an effective heart rhythm drifted slowly into view. They all watched for several seconds. Janet moved further back as the number of personnel and supplies of equipment increased. Sandy was standing under the archway, sobbing. Janet put her arm around the young girl.

‘I can’t do this job,’ Sandy groaned. ‘If Mr Collins dies it will be all my fault.’

‘Nonsense,’ Janet said firmly. ‘I’m the one who should have checked on him, and I don’t think he’s going to die. His heart’s started again now. As soon as they’re happy it’s going to keep going, the ambulance will get him into the emergency department and the experts will be able to take over.’

Mr Collins was being lifted onto a stretcher. Janet gave Sandy’s arm a comforting squeeze. She smiled gently at the tearstained face in front of her. At thirty, Janet was only twelve years older than Sandy Smith, but right now she felt old enough to be her grandmother. ‘You go and have a cup of tea and talk to Outboard for a wee while. I’ll help them clear up in here.’

Janet opened the front door to allow the stretcher to be carried out. She reached down and picked up the bag of kitty litter which was still lying where Sandy had dropped it. Oliver was standing up now. He had his hand extended towards the newcomer.

‘Not the ideal way to welcome even a temporary colleague,’ he said dryly, ‘but we’re delighted to see you. I’m Oliver Spencer and that’s my wife, Sophie, who’s about to disappear off to hospital with Mr Collins.’

Sophie was walking beside the stretcher. She looked back and gave an apologetic wave, before heading out the door.

‘I’ve arrived at a bad time. Might it be better if I came back later?’

‘No.’ Oliver shook his head firmly. ‘This morning was total chaos and Mr Collins has just finished it off in style. We’re in dire need of assistance.’ He paused. ‘You didn’t tell us your name.’

No! Janet wanted to shout. Don’t say it. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She had never even remotely prepared herself for this possibility. She stood, frozen to the spot, blindly clutching the bag of kitty litter, using it as a shield against the confirmation she knew she couldn’t avoid.

‘I’m sorry,’ the locum apologised. ‘I thought the agency would have been in touch. I’m Dr James McFadden. Jamie,’ he added as an afterthought.

Of course it was Jamie. Janet had known that the instant she’d heard the accent and tone of the once so familiar voice. The emergency had simply postponed the impact of the knowledge. Jamie McFadden. Past colleague. Past lover. The father of her twin sons. What had she told Sandy Smith so confidently? That this morning was as bad as it ever got around here?

Janet Muir had been terribly wrong.

Things had just become immeasurably worse.

CHAPTER TWO

ANY second now, Janet Muir warned herself.

The eye contact between them had all the dreadful inevitability of a slow-motion car crash. You saw the collision coming, knew the impact would be disastrous, but there wasn’t a damned thing you could do to avoid it.

Would Jamie McFadden recognise her? Would he acknowledge the recognition? Would the memory be as overwhelmingly gut-wrenching as that which she was experiencing? Janet could feel the hard plastic handle of the bag she was clutching biting into her collar-bone. She welcomed the physical discomfort. It was something real she could focus on in this developing nightmare.

‘You’re Scottish,’ Oliver observed, with an amused tilt to his mouth.

‘Aye.’ Jamie McFadden acknowledged the obvious with a brief nod. His wavy hair had darkened over the years, Janet noted. It was almost brown now. There were enough blond streaks left to make it catch the sunlight that streamed through the bay window of the waiting room. It was a glorious day outside. This really could not be happening to her.

‘What part are you from?’ Oliver queried.

‘Glasgow,’ Jamie responded. He stepped aside to allow an ambulance officer, burdened with equipment, access to the front door.

‘Really?’ Oliver sounded intrigued. ‘Just like Janet!’

‘Sorry?’ James McFadden’s total lack of comprehension was evident.

‘Janet Muir, our practice nurse.’ Oliver’s hand was coming up, ready to point her out. Jamie was turning even as Oliver finished his sentence. ‘Janet’s from Glasgow, too. Maybe you know each other.’

Janet didn’t even attempt a smile. She knew it would have been a physical impossibility. She didn’t try to speak either. She needed to concentrate on simply drawing breath. The shock in those brown eyes was startling. Janet almost felt sorry for him. She’d had several minutes since she’d recognised his voice. Several long minutes in which to try and prepare herself for this moment. Jamie had been thrown in at the deep end.

Janet’s question about whether he would recognise her had been answered. Her question about the effect of the recognition was also answered. For a split second, James McFadden looked as though he’d been violently assaulted. Stabbed. Or shot. Things didn’t come any more gut-wrenching than that—no matter how quickly the reaction could be shuttered.

But what of the third question? How was he going to react? Would he acknowledge her? Janet waited. Jamie was the one who had stepped—uninvited and unwanted—into her world. It was his call. If he wanted to pretend they’d never met then that was fine by her. In fact, it would be infinitely preferable to … to the warmth in Jamie McFadden’s tone.

‘Janet! I don’t believe it! After all these years!’ Jamie’s hand was stretching towards her. Janet hugged the prickly bag of kitty litter more tightly.

‘Jamie.’ She tried to smile but her lips simply wouldn’t co-operate. Jamie’s hand faltered and then dropped to his side.

‘It was a long time ago,’ he said casually. ‘Maybe you don’t remember the last time we met.’

Janet stared at him. Of course she remembered. How could she possibly forget? Jamie hadn’t been smiling then and his tone had been anything but warm. ‘Thank God you’re not pregnant,’ he’d said coldly. ‘It could never have worked.’

The awkward pause went unnoticed by Oliver as Sophie dashed back inside. ‘Could you grab Mr Collins’s file, please, Janet? We’ll need the test results.’

‘Of course.’ Janet was glad of the task. She deposited her burden on the counter and swiftly located the file. Running outside, she handed it to Sophie. The back door of the ambulance slammed shut and it drove away. Janet sighed with relief. Several bystanders and a couple of afternoon clinic patients were standing outside the medical centre, staring at the ambulance and speculating in hushed conversations about the reason for its presence. The sooner they got back into some semblance of normal routine, the better.

By the time Sandy Smith returned from the staffroom, all evidence of the emergency had gone. Three patients sat, looking subdued, in a tidy waiting room. Janet had arranged the files for the scheduled afternoon appointments, switched the phone back from the answering machine and was returning the calls.

‘Everything’s under control,’ she assured Sandy. ‘Oliver should be ready for his first patient. I’ll be in my room for a while. I’ve got to start making appointments for this week’s recalls and chase up some results. Just call me if you need any help. I don’t have any patients booked until 3 p.m. and they’re just dry ice treatment for warts and some ear syringing.’ She looked more closely at Sandy’s face. ‘Are you OK?’

Sandy nodded. ‘I feel better now.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I really thought he was going to die, you know? I’ve never seen a dead person.’ Sandy looked over the counter fearfully, as though she expected another patient to succumb. She relaxed visibly as one old lady smiled at her. ‘Who’s Oliver talking to in the staffroom?’

‘Our new locum,’ Janet answered tersely. She patted the bag of kitty litter still lying on the counter, now with the tins of cat food positioned beside it. ‘Would you like to go and put these away? They’re kind of in the way here.’

‘Sure,’ Sandy agreed as the phone started ringing. ‘In a minute.’ She picked up the receiver. ‘Good afternoon, St David’s Medical Centre. Sandy speaking.’

Janet sighed. She picked up the bag and tins herself. Why should she be intimidated into trying to hide? This was her territory. If anyone should feel uncomfortably unwelcome, it should be James McFadden. She wasn’t the one who’d thrown their relationship away. She wasn’t the one who’d had a fling with her best friend, got her pregnant and then set up house together hundreds of miles away in London. It wasn’t her that …

The laughter coming from the staffroom suggested that Jamie was feeling anything but unwelcome.

‘So you’ve been with St Davids for about four years, then, Oliver?’ Jamie was asking.

‘That’s right. Janet and I started at about the same time.’ Oliver smiled at Janet who nodded her confirmation of the history. She looked away quickly but Jamie hadn’t taken his gaze off Oliver.

‘And Josh has been here for ten?’

‘And Toni,’ Oliver told him. ‘She started out as the receptionist when the practice was very small. She got promoted to practice manager at the same time Janet and I came here.’

‘Ah.’ The syllable was laced with fresh comprehension. ‘You and Janet were together, then.’

Oliver laughed. ‘Not in that sense, mate.’

Janet plonked the tins of cat food onto the bench. She could feel her cheeks reddening again. What was so funny about that inference? And why should Jamie McFadden sound as though he had only expected her to go somewhere with a man in tow? He was the one who hadn’t been satisfied with a single partner.

‘Oliver is married to Sophie,’ she informed Jamie crisply. ‘Our GP registrar.’

‘But only recently, I understand.’ Jamie’s level gaze informed Janet that she’d had plenty of time to go in and out of a relationship with Oliver Spencer before a preferable model had shown up. The gaze was transferred almost instantly but the message had been clearly relayed. Janet winced at the reminder of how easily they’d always been able to communicate. A glance here—a touch there. It had been all that had been necessary to convey a wealth of information. Almost telepathy. Disturbing. Janet’s hand knocked the tin of cat food she had just put down. It rolled into the sink with a loud clatter.

‘And your senior partner, Josh, is now on honeymoon with your practice manager, Toni.’ There had been no discernible break in Jamie’s observations. Janet picked up the tin. Only telepathy could happen that instantly.

Oliver was laughing again. ‘It must be something in the air around here. You’d better watch out, Jamie.’

Both men were looking at Janet who promptly dropped the tin of jellymeat onto her foot and swore effectively. Thoroughly flustered, she muttered a lame excuse and rushed out of the staffroom. Not before she’d heard Jamie chuckle.

‘Not me, Oliver. I’m totally immune, thank God.’

She could hear the two doctors following her down the hallway. ‘This is Josh’s room, Jamie. It’ll be the one you’ll be using for consultations. Have a look around. I’d better see my first patient but I’ll catch up with you again in a few minutes.’

Janet closed the door of the treatment room behind her. She leaned against it, drawing in a deep breath.

Smoothing the skirt of her uniform against her legs, she noticed that her hands were trembling. She took another deep breath and let it out very slowly. Totally immune, was he? What had happened to the great romance between him and Sharlene? Or was he immune because he was happily married? Janet shuddered. Did she really want to find out?

No. Janet sat down at her small desk and reached for the computer printout. She unhooked the wall phone and placed it beside the list of patient names and phone numbers. Mrs Coombs was first. Her blood test had revealed severe anaemia. Oliver wanted her to come in for a series of iron injections and Janet needed to make the first appointment. She picked up the receiver and then replaced it as she heard a knock on her door. Sandy probably required some assistance.

‘Come in,’ Janet called cheerfully. Poor Sandy had already coped with quite enough today. Janet had no intention of letting her know how disturbed she now felt herself.

The door opened and then closed again. But it wasn’t Sandy now standing close to her desk. It was Jamie McFadden.

‘I get the distinct impression you’re not very pleased to see me,’ Jamie stated without preamble. ‘Maybe it would be better if I didn’t stay.’

‘You have to,’ Janet informed him grimly. ‘We’ve already been let down by one locum. This is a very busy practice. Oliver can’t possibly cope by himself and God knows when the agency would be able to come up with another locum.’

‘He’s not by himself. He has his wife working with him.’

‘Sophie’s a GP registrar. She’s due to fly to Wellington tomorrow to sit her written exams. She’ll be away for two days. She’s also pregnant and suffering from severe morning sickness.’

Jamie’s eyebrows lifted sardonically. ‘You’re right. This is a very busy practice.’

Janet ignored the innuendo. ‘Of course, it’s entirely up to you. It is somewhat of a challenge, I agree.’ Her glance accused him of making a habit of running away from difficult situations. The glance was a test, given unconsciously. Did the telepathy still work both ways?

James McFadden’s mouth tightened. Bingo! Janet felt suddenly calmer, as though a measure of control had landed back in her court.

‘I wouldn’t call it a challenge, exactly,’ Jamie said thoughtfully. His gaze held Janet’s firmly. ‘Maybe we could see it as more of an opportunity. What happened between us would have to be considered ancient history by now. Maybe it’s time to forgive and forget.’ Jamie’s smile was conciliatory.

‘Even ancient history can leave a lasting impact on some people,’ Janet said coolly. She could feel her heart pounding. Another opportunity with Jamie McFadden was the last thing she needed. The last thing she could possibly want. ‘It’s only for six weeks,’ she said tightly. ‘I’m sure we can cope.’

‘But do you want to?’

‘Yes, I do.’ Janet fixed Jamie with a determined stare. ‘I have an immense loyalty to this place and to these people. This is my life now, Jamie, and it’s all I have. I’m not going to let some incident from my past create or add to the difficulties we’re already experiencing.’ Janet wished she could stand up to emphasise her determination, but even at her height of five feet seven she would still have to look a long way up to maintain eye contact with James McFadden. ‘St David’s is in desperate need of a locum GP. They’re very difficult to come by at present and we’ve already lost one. I imagine the agency would tell us we’re very lucky to get you.’

The second knock on the door was more urgent than Jamie’s had been. Sandy looked agitated as she poked her head into the room without waiting for a response.

‘Mrs Neville has just jammed her finger in her car door.’ Sandy sounded alarmingly close to tears again. ‘There’s blood all over the place!’

Janet was on her feet instantly. She grabbed a dressings pack from the cupboard above her head without pausing. She brushed past Jamie McFadden. Mrs Neville was standing beside the reception counter. Her eyes were shut tightly and she was moaning loudly. Her uninjured hand gripped the wrist of the other. A mangled fingertip was bleeding freely onto the counter. Janet covered it with a large gauze pad and put her arm around the groaning woman supportively.

‘Come with me, Mrs Neville. Let’s get you sitting down and see what the damage really is.’

Somehow she wasn’t surprised to find Jamie still in the treatment room. He had donned surgical gloves, poured some Betadine into a kidney bowl and opened another pack of dressings.

‘Mrs Neville, is it?’ he queried. His smile was professional. Reassuring. ‘I’m Dr McFadden. Sit down here and show me what you’ve done to that poor finger.’ His glance at Janet a minute later was equally professional. ‘Draw up some lignocaine, will you, please, Janet? I think we’ll put a nerve block in while we sort this out.’ He turned back to his patient. ‘It’s pretty painful, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, yes, Doctor,’ Mrs Neville gasped. ‘I can’t bear to look. Have I … have I cut my finger off?’

‘Och, nothing like that,’ Jamie assured her. ‘You’ve squashed the top a bit, that’s all. We might need to remove the nail and put a stitch or two in the back. Nothing we can’t cope with.’ He looked across at Janet as she held an ampoule upside down, sucking the contents out with a needle and syringe. ‘Is it, Janet?’

‘No, Dr McFadden.’ Janet’s tone was calm as she handed him the dose of local anaesthetic. She held out the empty ampoule as well so he could confirm the medication. ‘Nothing we can’t cope with.’

Mrs Neville looked reassured, happily oblivious to the deeper meaning of the exchange. By the time her finger was cleaned up, stitched and dressed, the middle aged patient was clearly smitten with St David’s latest staff member.

‘We’re becoming a regular United Nations here,’ she told him proudly. ‘The last locum was an Indian lady and now we have you. I do love your accent.’

‘You should be used to a bit of a burr.’ Jamie sounded surprised. ‘I understand Janet’s been here for years.’

‘Oh, but that’s different. And your accent is so much stronger!’

Janet dropped the needles and the scalpel Jamie had used to tidy the edges of the wound into the sharps disposal container. Mrs Neville had been enamoured of Oliver ever since she’d started coming to St David’s. Now her allegiance was clearly being transferred without difficulty. She threw a sidelong glance at the object of Mrs Neville’s admiration in time to catch the cheeky, small-boy grin.

Janet closed her eyes for a split second against a wave of despair. That grin! She saw it a dozen times a day on the faces of her sons. She had always loved it and the two little ratbags knew it was the second best way to get around their mother. The best way, of course, were the cuddles and declarations of love. Worked a treat almost every time—especially if accompanied by that cheeky grin. Did she love the facial expression because she loved her sons so much? Or was it because it had subconsciously linked them to the first great love of her life?

Could she cope? How many more links might become obvious over the next six weeks? How many more reminders could she take about how she had once felt about this man? It was hard enough, listening to his voice. Mrs Neville was right. His accent was much stronger than her own. And could she keep the boys a secret? Janet shuddered at even the thought of that problem and turned back into Jamie’s conversation. He was explaining the difference to their patient as he finished easing the finger stall over the dressing.

‘I was born and raised in Glasgow,’ he told Mrs Neville. ‘Janet lived in Edinburgh for her formative years. That’s a much more civilised place.’ Jamie’s tone suggested that civilisation was not necessarily an attribute. ‘Besides, Janet’s been away from her homeland for years. I only arrived last week.’

‘Do you think you’ll stay here?’ Mrs Neville asked coyly. ‘Permanently, that is?’

Jamie laughed, a rich sound that caused Janet’s stomach to fold itself into an even tighter knot. ‘I’m only planning on a working holiday, Mrs Neville. I doubt that permanence is something I’ll even consider.’

Huh! Janet flashed him a meaningful glance. No. Permanence wasn’t something that would be high on Jamie McFadden’s agenda. Love them and leave them. Jobs, countries … women. Jamie had caught the glance. His dark brown eyes narrowed slightly as he acknowledged the disparaging line of Janet’s thoughts. She saw a spark of anger then. Whatever challenge he had also interpreted from her glance was going to be risen to.

‘You had an appointment with Dr Bennett, didn’t you, Mrs Neville?’ Jamie’s attention returned swiftly to his patient. ‘I’m afraid she’s tied up at the hospital for a while. Perhaps it’s something I could help you with?’

Mrs Neville blushed furiously. ‘Oh, no! It was nothing urgent, Dr McFadden. I’ll make another appointment for later in the week.’

Janet pressed her lips together firmly as she emptied the bowl of soiled dressings and swabs into the rubbish container. Mrs Neville had been having increasing trouble with a severe case of haemorrhoids. It had been Janet who’d suggested she see their female GP when she’d heard that the over-the-counter preparations weren’t providing any relief.

‘Come and see me at the same time, then,’ Jamie invited. ‘I’d like to check on that finger.’

Mrs Neville’s gratitude at not being pressed into an explanation was patent. ‘I’ll do that, Dr McFadden. And thank you. Thank you so much! My finger doesn’t hurt at all now.’

‘My pleasure.’ Jamie smiled. ‘You’ll find it gets a wee bit sore when the anaesthetic wears off, though. I’m sure Janet can give you some tablets.’

‘Of course,’ Janet murmured. She smiled at Mrs Neville but the woman’s gaze was still firmly glued to Jamie. Oliver Spencer appeared in the doorway. He didn’t appear to notice Janet either.

‘At work already, Jamie? Fantastic!’ He lowered his voice as Janet selected some painkillers from a nearby cupboard. ‘Could I get you to see another patient? She’s a fifty-four-year-old woman with a case of postherpetic neuralgia. She’s in a lot of pain. She had a dose of shingles three months ago and …’ Oliver’s voice faded as Jamie followed him out.

Janet handed Mrs Neville the packet of tablets. ‘You can take two up to every four hours,’ she instructed. ‘But don’t take any more than that and make sure you keep your finger completely dry. I’ll make an appointment for you to see Sophie on Thursday or Friday.’

‘And Dr McFadden,’ Mrs Neville reminded her firmly. She smiled rather dreamily at Janet. ‘Isn’t he wonderful? You’re so lucky to have found him!’

‘Mmm.’ Janet’s smile was automatic. She could hear an echo of Sharlene’s voice—a bitter memory that hadn’t surfaced for years. ‘Oh, you’re so lucky, Jan,’ her best friend—and room-mate—had sighed. ‘Where did you find him?’

Janet steered Mrs Neville towards the reception counter. ‘Sandy will fix you up,’ she said distractedly. ‘Call me if you have any problems.’

The afternoon settled into a blissful period of calm. Janet found she had time to make her recall appointments as Sandy took phone calls, welcomed new arrivals and sorted out the accounts of those leaving. After the miserable chaos of the morning, Janet couldn’t believe how smoothly the clinic was running. They even had time for a quick afternoon teabreak when Sophie arrived back from the hospital.

‘How is Mr Collins?’ Janet queried, handing Sophie a mug of coffee.

‘Amazingly happy.’ Sophie shook her head wonderingly. ‘I left him sitting up in the coronary care unit, surrounded by monitors and shouting at a poor house surgeon.’

‘What had the house surgeon done?’ Oliver grinned.

‘Nothing. Mr Collins lost his hearing aid somewhere between here and A and E.’

‘At least he can shout,’ Janet observed. ‘I had my doubts there for a while.’

Sophie chuckled. ‘Mr Collins has had an ‘‘out of body’’ experience. I heard all about it at least three times.’

‘What—tunnels and bright lights?’

‘More like kind of musical,’ Sophie said thoughtfully. ‘A full orchestra, he said.’

‘Playing hymns?’

‘No.’ Sophie chuckled again. ‘He said it sounded like the Crusaders’ theme song. What is it? ‘‘Conquest of Paradise’’?’

Janet nodded. ‘Vangelis, 1492. The boys have got it on tape and it gets hammered in our house whenever there’s a big rugby game coming up.’

‘Anyway.’ Sophie sat down with a sigh. ‘Mr Collins is alive to tell the tale, thank goodness. I’m exhausted.’ She looked up as Jamie McFadden entered the staffroom. ‘Hi, Jamie!’ Sophie’s face brightened. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to say hello properly. Come and sit down and have a coffee.’

‘Thanks.’ Jamie sat down beside Sophie. ‘I’ll pass on the coffee, though. I only drink tea.’

‘Just like Janet!’ Sophie exclaimed. ‘Must be a Scottish thing.’

‘That’s not all that Jamie and Janet have in common,’ Oliver informed his wife. ‘They knew each other in Glasgow.’

Sophie’s eyebrows shot up.

‘We just worked together in the same hospital.’ Janet placed a cup of tea in front of Jamie. ‘It was a long time ago.’

‘What an amazing coincidence,’ Sophie breathed.

Janet frowned. It was indeed. A little too amazing. Had Jamie McFadden found out she was here somehow? Through her sister, perhaps? Liz had been planning a return to the UK at some stage. What else might he know about? Janet swallowed nervously. ‘You don’t take sugar, do you, Jamie?’ she queried politely.

‘I do, actually.’ Jamie’s smile was equally polite. ‘But I’ll get it. You sit down.’ Jamie got to his feet with an easy grace and headed towards the kitchen bench. ‘How did your patient get on, Sophie?’ he asked over his shoulder.

‘He’s doing well. They were discussing the possibility of some angioplasty when I left. Mr Collins was very enthusiastic.’

‘Was he?’ Jamie’s eyebrows rose expressively. ‘Invasive interventional therapy isn’t usually an attractive option.’

Oliver laughed. ‘Our Mr Collins isn’t a usual patient. He has a keen interest in medicine—especially when he can apply it to himself.’

‘Just wait until Josh and Toni hear about this.’ Sophie grinned. ‘We’ll have to take every complaint seriously from now on.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll never feel the same when I hear ‘‘Conquest of Paradise’’.’

Jamie looked confused.

‘It’s a rather stirring piece of music which our local rugby team has adopted as a theme song,’ Sophie explained. ‘Everybody in Christchurch—the whole of Canterbury, in fact—recognises it. Mr Collins reckons he heard it during his near-death experience.’

‘Is he keen on rugby, then?’ Jamie smiled.

‘Most people are when Crusader fever hits town. Everybody dresses in red and black and everybody gets sick of hearing ‘‘Conquest of Paradise’’. There could be a big game coming up next month if they get through to the finals. You’ll see what I mean then.’

‘Let’s hope Josh and Toni are back in time,’ Oliver put in. ‘Josh would hate to miss a big match.’

Jamie was adding a second spoonful of sugar to his tea. ‘They’re having a long honeymoon.’

‘They both needed a good break.’ Oliver’s glance included both Sophie and Janet, who nodded their agreement. Janet was pleased to notice Jamie’s expression, advertising his understanding of a bond of knowledge between the St Davids staff members that excluded the newcomer. She belonged here, her expression told him. He didn’t.

Sophie was peering into her mug with distaste. ‘I’ve gone right off coffee,’ she announced. ‘I think I’ll switch to tea.’

‘You should go home and put your feet up,’ Oliver advised. ‘You’ve had an awful day and it’s an early flight tomorrow.’ He looked worried. ‘This exam couldn’t be at a worse time for you. Maybe you should ask for a postponement.’

‘No way!’ Sophie decared. ‘All that swotting for nothing? I’ll be fine, Oliver—as long as there’s a toilet nearby. I wouldn’t mind heading home now, though. Do you think you can cope without me?’

‘Jamie’s doing a fantastic job already,’ Oliver informed his wife. Jamie shrugged modestly.

‘You’ve got a great set-up here,’ he complimented Oliver. ‘Your record-keeping is superb and you and Janet have been very helpful with my queries regarding prescriptions and so on.’

Oliver and Sophie exchanged glances. Then Oliver got to his feet. ‘I haven’t given you a proper tour of the place yet. Let’s do it while we’ve got a quiet spell. You’d better see where we keep the life pack and the oxygen and so on.’

Jamie nodded. ‘After your Mr Collins, I think that would be a very good idea.’

‘That sort of thing doesn’t happen very often.’ Oliver smiled. ‘Don’t expect too much excitement at St David’s.’

‘Och, I don’t.’ Jamie’s gaze landed on Janet. ‘But life has a way of throwing a few surprises at you.’

Sophie hadn’t failed to notice the direction of Jamie’s comment. ‘It has, indeed,’ she agreed happily. ‘Good luck for the next couple of days, Jamie. I’ll look forward to seeing you again when I’m back from Wellington.’

Sophie barely contained herself until the men left the room. She nudged Janet meaningfully. ‘Not bad. You must be looking forward to a chance to catch up.’ She wiggled her eyebrows. ‘Or reminisce, maybe?’

Janet rolled her eyes. ‘Give me a break.’ She ignored Sophie’s hopeful expression. ‘Oliver’s right, Sophie. You’d better go home and have a rest.’ She picked up the empty mugs the men had left on the table. ‘And I’d better get on. I’ve got some warts waiting to be done.’ Turning back to collect Sophie’s abandoned mug of coffee, Janet chewed her lip for a moment. ‘Sophie?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Could you ask Oliver …? I mean, could you and Oliver …?’ Janet paused uncomfortably.

‘Could we what, Janet?’ Sophie frowned in concern. ‘Are you worried about something?’

‘It’s just …’ Janet busied herself with the mugs. ‘I’d rather that Jamie McFadden didn’t find out about the twins.’ That was the understatement of the century! Janet glanced over her shoulder to see whether Sophie had read anything more into her attempt at a casual request.

She had. But not what Janet had feared. Sophie’s smile was understanding. The gleam in her eyes was knowing. ‘My lips are sealed,’ she promised. ‘And I’ll make sure Oliver’s are as well.’ She smiled broadly at Janet. ‘They have been known to complicate things in that direction, haven’t they?’

‘Mmm.’ Janet was wondering desperately whether correcting Sophie’s erroneous assumption would complicate matters even more.

‘What was it they called your last boyfriend? A dork?’ Sophie giggled. ‘Dennis the dork. No wonder he took off! Don’t worry.’ Sophie tapped the side of her nose. ‘As far as Dr Jamie McFadden will know, you’re single and unencumbered. It’ll be entirely up to you when you tell him.’

‘Thanks.’ Janet smiled tightly. She had no intention whatsoever of telling James McFadden about her children. It would be a disaster if he found out the truth and it was a disaster that Janet Muir was determined wouldn’t occur.

CHAPTER THREE

‘WHAT’S for tea, Mum?’

‘Bread and water,’ Janet told Adam sternly. She opened the back door of her small car and closed her eyes to the large clod that dropped from Adam’s shoe to be trodden into the carpet by Rory as he bounced into the back seat beside his brother.

Rory’s grin reassured Adam that he didn’t need to believe Janet’s threat of culinary punishment. Adam still looked worried.

‘Put your seat belts on,’ Janet ordered as she slid behind the steering-wheel. ‘Mrs Carpenter told me you were late again today.’

There was a short silence from the back seat. Mrs Carpenter lived only three doors away from their school. As the ideal position for an after-school care-giver, Enid Carpenter’s address had been a large deciding factor when Janet had chosen the older woman to care for the twins between 3 and 5 p.m. on weekdays. Along with the lower than average cost of five dollars an hour and Mrs Carpenter’s availability to care for the boys in the holidays and at home on the odd occasion when they’d been too sick to go to school.

It was an arrangement which had apparently worked well over the last eighteen months but recently Janet had detected less willingness on Enid Carpenter’s part. Janet sighed, slowing down for the roundabout near the shopping centre. The twins were becoming more of a handful for everybody, including herself, and she worried constantly about the level of supervision they actually received after school. Enid provided afternoon tea and was supposed to encourage homework. She was more likely to give the boys free run of her garden or unlimited television when the weather was wet. Janet wasn’t about to rush into criticising the caregiver, however. If Mrs Carpenter threw in the towel the boys would have to go to the same kind of day care facility she had used when they were toddlers and that would cost far more than she could afford. The early years had depleted her life savings to an alarmingly low level.

‘It shouldn’t take you more than five minutes to get to Mrs Carpenter’s house after school,’ Janet reminded the boys sharply. ‘She said it was nearly 4 o’clock when you arrived. She’d been about to go looking for you.’ And that was another worry. Janet would have been out looking for the twins within minutes of their non-arrival. Did Enid Carpenter really care about her sons?

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