‘Why not let me try and arrange a date for you?’

Jack’s hand went out to touch a wet strand of hair that had fallen over her brow, then he traced a line under her chin and down her neck with his finger, a faint smile on his lips. Frankie tensed at his touch.

‘You’re so kind, Frankie,’ he sighed. ‘But, no, I… I think I know the kind of person I need—so don’t bother your friend.’

He bent towards her and brushed her forehead in a light kiss, then stepped back and smiled at her with those cobalt blue eyes. The atmosphere suddenly became intimate, quiet and still, as if something momentous was going to happen. Before she knew what she was doing, Frankie put her arm round his neck and drew his face down to hers, her lips pressing softly against his cheek… She wanted to show how much she appreciated his compassion—that was all, wasn’t it?

‘We must look out for each other,’ she whispered.

Judy Campbell is from Cheshire. As a teenager she spent a great year at high school in Oregon, USA, as an exchange student. She has worked in a variety of jobs, including teaching young children, being a secretary and running a small family business. Her husband comes from a medical family, and one of their three grown-up children is a GP. Any spare time—when she’s not writing romantic fiction—is spent playing golf, especially in the Highlands of Scotland.

Recent titles by the same author:

THE PREGNANT GP

THE REGISTRAR’S SECRET

THE DOCTOR’S SECRET BABY

The Doctor's Longed-For Bride

Judy Campbell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

PROLOGUE

IT WAS HOT in the park—people lay basking on the grass under the shade of the trees and children splashed in the paddling pool, their happy squeals carrying over to Francesca holding Abby by the hand.

‘Can I go in there?’ asked the little girl imploringly, tugging Francesca towards the pool. ‘Please!’

Francesca laughed. ‘You can if Daddy says so—but you’re due at a party soon and he may not want you to get wet.’

‘He doesn’t mind me getting wet—really!’ the child assured her, then she started bouncing excitedly up and down. ‘Look—he’s coming now. Let’s ask him, shall we?’

A tall man with thick russet-coloured hair and rimless glasses that gave him a rather studious look ran up to them. ‘Sorry to keep you, Francesca—the clinic was running late as usual and I couldn’t get away. Thanks a ton for minding Abby.’

‘No trouble, Jack. I love looking after her, as you know.’ Francesca grinned at him. ‘And I’m not surprised you’re late—I’ve never known a Saturday clinic end early.’

Abby pushed in between them and wound her arms round her father’s legs. ‘Please, Daddy, let me paddle in the little pool. I won’t get very wet you know…’

Both adults laughed and the man lifted Abby up in his arms and kissed her cheek. ‘Difficult not to get very wet in water,’ he teased. ‘Go on, then—just for a minute, sweetheart. Better take off that dress, though. You’ll soon dry out in this heat before we go to Sam’s party.’

Francesca helped Abby take off her dress and the little girl scampered joyfully towards the pool, her russet curly hair springing up and down.

‘She’s such a dear little girl,’ said Francesca, her eyes following Abby. ‘So bright and bubbly. You must be very proud of her Jack.’

Jack sighed. ‘Of course I am. I just wish Sue was here to see her, that’s all. It seems so hard that she’ll never watch Abby growing up.’

Francesca looked at him sympathetically. He and his late wife had made such a great couple, devoted to each other and absolutely besotted with their little daughter when she had been born. When Sue had died he had been devastated, and Francesca felt he had never recovered from her loss.

She and Jack started to stroll towards the paddling pool after Abby, and Francesca squeezed his arm.

‘You must be lost without Sue,’ she said gently. ‘But you’ve done so well on your own with Abby.’

‘Thanks in large part to you.’ Jack smiled at her. ‘I’ve really appreciated you helping out when I’ve been stuck, you know—like you did today, picking her up from the childminder and looking after her when you’d already done a long stint in A and E.’

‘If I can’t help look after my fiancé’s niece from time to time, it’s a poor lookout. It works both ways anyway. You’re Damian’s brother-in-law and it’s been good to be able to unload some of my worries on you while he’s in South America.’

‘No regrets about me introducing you to someone who’s away more than he’s here?’ asked Jack.

‘Don’t be silly. Love doesn’t dilute with distance, you know! I’ll always be grateful to you.’ She sighed. ‘I wish I could go out and see him, but he’s adamant that I shouldn’t because of the unrest in the area at the moment.’

A vivid picture of her first meeting with Damian sprang into Frankie’s mind—a lovely summer’s evening by the river in the garden of a country pub. Jack had persuaded her to come and have a drink after a gruelling day’s work and meet his brother-in-law who had been back in England for a short time. A charismatic man with thick fair hair had been holding forth in the middle of a group of people in a witty and exuberant way about life on the island off South America where he’d worked. He’d had the confident and easy manner of someone who had not been embarrassed to be the centre of attention—very different from Jack’s diffident and modest demeanour.

Frankie could recall the exact moment when Damian had turned round and seen her by Jack’s side. Damian’s eyes had held hers for a full minute, it seemed, then his gaze had shifted slowly up and down her body in a frank look of admiration and lust. If any other man had behaved like that, Frankie thought wryly, she’d have told them where to get off, but something about him had made her melt like snow in the desert. Damian had abandoned the group he’d been with, including a wistful-looking blonde girl, and had spent the rest of the evening with Frankie. And after that she’d fallen for him.

‘Any news from him?’ asked Jack.

Frankie turned a glowing face to Jack, her dark brown eyes sparkling. ‘I was going to tell you—I had an e-mail this morning, saying he’s coming back next week—isn’t that great? It’s been six months since I’ve seen him.’

Jack looked startled, almost shocked. ‘He’ll be here as soon as that?’ He stared ahead for a moment, watching his daughter splashing energetically in the pool, then he said slowly, ‘So I suppose you’ll be fixing a date for the wedding, then?’

He watched her eager and excited expression, and she laughed. ‘Oh, I expect so, as soon as possible. And, of course, you’ll be best man, won’t you? I know Damian would want you to be.’

A look of slight embarrassment crossed his face. ‘He may have other plans. I don’t want to assume that he wants me…’

‘Nonsense!’ declared Francesca. ‘He was Susan’s brother and I know that he would want to include you in the ceremony. If Susan had been alive she would have been my bridesmaid—now it would be wonderful if Abby could do that for me instead. I’d love that and I’m sure she would, too. She’d look adorable in a special dress…’

Jack’s expression cleared and he smiled down at her, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘If you’re sure you want a four-year-old hanging onto your train. It could be dangerous!’ He shot a look at his watch, then called out to his daughter, ‘Come on, Abby—time to go to Sam’s party now. Let’s put your dress back on!’

Abby ran obediently out of the pool, giggling as some other children splashed her with water. ‘I’m coming!’ she yelled. ‘I’m going to get you all wet in a minute!’

Jack caught his daughter in his arms and hugged her. ‘You wouldn’t do that to Daddy, would you?’

‘Yes, I would,’ she shouted. She looked up at Francesca impishly. ‘Are you going to take me to the party, too?’ she asked.

Francesca was about to say that she’d be happy to stroll along with them when Jack interjected quickly. ‘Francesca’s given up a lot of her day already, Abby. She’s got a life of her own, you know, things she’s got to do without us! And when she’s married to Damian, we won’t see her as much as we do now.’

Abby’s underlip jutted out crossly. ‘I want her to come,’ she muttered. ‘Everyone else has mummies with them as well as daddies. They’d think she was my mummy…’

A shadow crossed Jack’s strong face. ‘You’ll have to make do with me, sweetheart,’ he said gently.

‘I really don’t mind coming with you, Jack,’ said Francesca, her heart going out in sympathy to the little girl.

Jack’s eyes flicked momentarily across to Francesca, meeting hers for a fleeting moment, an unreadable expression crossing his face. Then he shook his head. ‘No, no,’ he said briskly. ‘No need for that. I’ll see you at St Mary’s on Monday. Thanks again for your help today. Come on, Abby, love, I’ll carry you across the park.’

He strode off with the child in his arms, and Francesca watched them go with a funny feeling of regret—she loved being with them and, she had to confess, being a mother-figure to little Abby. She’d half hoped that she and Jack could have gone and had a cup of tea while Abby was at the party—it would have been good to have had a chat, discuss the branch of the family business Damian was hoping to set up when he returned home, and also talk about Abby and her new school. She was surprised that Jack hadn’t suggested it—they often spent Saturday afternoon together.

She turned and walked slowly back to the little terraced house she rented at the edge of the common, somehow feeling rather flat and deflated. Then she shook herself mentally. Jack was right—she had a life of her own, and Damian would be back soon. She wouldn’t have to rely on Jack to help her when anything in the house needed doing, and equally she wouldn’t be able to act as his escort when he needed someone to go to the theatre with or to a supper party with close friends. She’d got used to a certain way of life when Damian had gone to South America—and now, after six months, things would have to change!

Francesca paused at the doorstep and looked back across the park, where Jack’s diminishing figure could just be seen disappearing amongst the trees. She’d got to know him well these last few months and they’d become really good friends—he was so trustworthy and such fun. She wondered whether it was too soon after Sue’s death to find a girlfriend for him. Nevertheless, she would keep a lookout for a suitable girl and perhaps they could go out as a foursome. Feeling cheered by that thought, she went into the house.

CHAPTER ONE

‘YOU JUST WOULDN’T believe what it was like last night—just completely scary. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry!’

Corey Davidson flopped down on the pub bench, and Francesca Lovatt looked up from the letter she was absorbed in reading. ‘What, Corey?’ she said absently, then her face cleared. ‘Oh, yes…the speed-dating evening. I thought it was supposed to be fun?’

Corey groaned, her round face a picture of dejection. ‘I’m just no good at thinking of questions to ask people I’ve nothing in common with. You know I hate all sports and every man there seemed to be heavily into football, golf or tennis…’

‘Perhaps you ought to join a tennis club, then,’ suggested Frankie, putting the letter back in her pocket with a sigh and feeling slightly sick from the shock of its contents.

Corey scowled. ‘No fear. And it was deeply humiliating, too—I didn’t get anyone wanting my phone number!’

‘Did you want any of their phone numbers?’ enquired Frankie, unable to help smiling at her friend’s comically woebegone face, despite the news she’d just received.

‘No,’ admitted Corey. She looked enviously at Frankie. ‘You’re so lucky to have Damian—did you fix a date for the wedding when he was over?’

Frankie swallowed hard. ‘Not yet…You know he had to go back to South America unexpectedly when the manager of the factory died, so he was only here for a few days.’ She bit her lip and looked sadly at her friend, then added slowly, ‘Actually, I’ve just had a letter. He…he doesn’t know when he can come home—and he doesn’t want me to go out there because of the unrest in that area at the moment. And…well, there is something more…’

Her voice trailed off and Corey put her hand sympathetically on Frankie’s arm. ‘I’m so sorry, Frankie. Here am I, rabbiting on about my ghastly evening and you’ve got worries of your own. You must be fed up.’

Frankie pushed the letter towards Corey. ‘Read the last part,’ she said. ‘It was quite a shock I can tell you.’

‘Not before I get us both a drink,’ declared her friend, jumping up from the bench. ‘I have a feeling it’s bad news and after the day we’ve had in A and E we need a pick-me-up—preferably alcoholic!’

She pushed her way through the crowded bar and Frankie leant back on her seat and closed her eyes for a second, propping her tired legs up on the table crossbar to relieve the pressure on her feet. It had been a long day in Casualty and she wasn’t at all sure that coming to the crowded smoky atmosphere of the Drover’s Arms had been the best idea, especially after reading Damian’s letter. Perhaps the full import of it hadn’t hit her yet because she felt rather numb, detached almost from what Damian had said.

Corey returned with two white wine spritzers and looked at Frankie’s pale face and the dark rings under her eyes. ‘You look knackered Frankie—have a swig of this,’ she declared, handing over the drink.

‘I do feel shattered,’ admitted Frankie. ‘But you must be as well—we were run off our feet after dealing with that multiple RTA this afternoon. We’re so short-staffed at the moment, especially now Larry Higson’s left.’

‘Yeah, it’s a shame about Larry taking off. It can’t be much fun for you, being the only registrar on the unit sometimes. Anyway, help is at hand—someone’s coming in his place tomorrow. I met him at lunchtime.’

Frankie raised her brows. ‘I’m glad to hear that, but how come I’m the last to find out? Do we know who it is—anyone local?’

Corey shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. Jack someone or other—wants to get a consultancy in A and E. Must be mad!’

‘Jack?’ A momentary flicker of interest. ‘Do you know his surname?’

‘No idea, but he’s a bit of all right.’ Corey giggled. ‘Perhaps he’s a better bet than speed-dating. Think you know him?’

‘I shouldn’t think so. I did work with someone called Jack at my last job, but he disappeared quite suddenly and there must be hundreds of registrars with that name.’

Jack Herrick, Damian’s brother-in-law… Frankie sighed. She still hadn’t got over the extraordinary shock when Jack had left without warning, not even staying to see Damian who had been due to come home the following week. It had been a complete mystery as to why Jack should have gone without saying a word to her, just a cursory note left pinned on her locker at work and a brief mention of hoping to see her again, probably at her wedding to Damian. Later she’d heard on the grapevine that he’d become engaged, which had surprised her as she had not known he had even wanted to go out with anyone after losing Sue.

There was no doubt that Jack’s abrupt departure without explanation had hurt. He’d been a comforting link with Damian. She’d thought their mutual support system had helped them both—he’d been like a rock when Damian had had to go abroad and sort out the old family business, a shoulder to cry on, in fact. In turn, he’d talked to her about his little girl, and the difficulties involved in being a widower with a child. They’d worked together at the large casualty department at St Mary’s hospital, thirty miles from the infirmary, and Frankie was sure she’d developed a close and relaxed friendship with him. After all, she was going to be a part of his family in that she was marrying his brother-in-law. It had been a slap in the face when he’d just disappeared without even the courtesy of a goodbye.

She gave a mental shrug of dismissal as Corey’s voice broke into her thoughts. All that was history—she was at another hospital now and only concerned with the present and what Damian had written to her.

‘Now, let me see this letter—looks as if it’s upset you,’ said Corey.

Frankie held it out. ‘You’ll see why when you read it, but I’d rather the whole department didn’t know yet.’

Corey looked scornfully at her friend. ‘As if,’ she protested. ‘You know me better than that.’

Her eyes widened as she scanned the sheet of paper, then she put down the letter and whistled softly, shaking her head and looking in disbelief at Frankie. ‘Oh, God, Frankie, I don’t believe this—he must be mad! He can’t mean all that about not wanting to be engaged any more,’ she added vehemently. ‘He loved you, wanted to marry you. There must be some reason for him to break it off so suddenly.’

Frankie shrugged, and although she tried to keep her voice light, there was a bitter edge to her words. ‘I thought he loved me, too. When he came over he gave me the impression that he couldn’t bear to leave me…’ She gave a shaky laugh. ‘I must have missed something, mustn’t I?’

Corey looked at her friend, full of sympathy. ‘Why didn’t he tell you when he was over here? Too bloody cowardly by half. He left it until he’d gone back—the rat!’

‘Perhaps he was just trying to do the right thing by me,’ said Francesca flatly. ‘He won’t be back for at least a year and maybe he doesn’t want to tie me down for all that time…’

‘Tie himself down more like,’ said Corey cynically. ‘What do you really think, Frankie?’

Frankie stared down at the letter on the table in front of her then looked up at Corey. ‘I think you’re right,’ she admitted. ‘It’s him that wants to be free, although he doesn’t mention that there’s anyone else. Anyway, what’s the point of being engaged to someone if they don’t love you any more? I would like to know the truth, though—why he’s suddenly dumped me…’

She felt tears pressing against her eyes and took a long drink to quell the telltale sobs that threatened to choke her. Corey was right—why hadn’t he had the guts to tell her when they had been together? She felt a hollow empty feeling of rejection coupled with a gathering anger that he’d never hinted that his feelings for her might have changed. It was all so sudden, out of the blue.

‘What will you do?’ asked Corey, putting her arm round Frankie and hugging her comfortingly.

Frankie pulled a snapshot out of her pocket and scanned it bleakly. ‘I can’t kill the man,’ she said in an attempt at humour, ‘but I’m going to have to put him out of my mind somehow…’

Corey looked over her shoulder at the picture. ‘Yeah—he’s drop-dead gorgeous all right, but he must be a moron to let someone like you go.’ She scanned Frankie’s heart-shaped face, framed by thick chestnut hair, and grinned at her. ‘It’s my bet that within the year another twenty men will be after you!’

Frankie tightened her lips and tore the photo into little pieces. ‘I doubt it, Corey, and I can tell you that at this moment in time the last thing I’ll be searching for is a man…what’s the point? You give your heart to someone—and for what? You’re rejected with no reason given, no warning. It’s as if you might never even have existed, the past years wiped out, forgotten about…’

Corey took Frankie’s hands and squeezed them. ‘Darling Frankie, don’t let him get you down…you’re worth so much more than he is!’

She smiled at Frankie who even managed a watery smile in return. ‘Don’t worry,’ Frankie said staunchly. ‘I hope I’m made of sterner stuff than that…’

But it was going to be tough, she reflected as she watched the other people in the pub—so many of them with partners, laughing and happy. It was hard to imagine that any of them were feeling quite as desolate as she was at that moment.

A sudden bellow of noise in the room and a certain commotion around the bar made both girls spin round. The landlord, a big burly man, was pushing his way purposefully through the jostling crowd, a warning finger held up.

His angry voice floated over towards them. ‘You can stop that here and now—I won’t have brawling in my pub! Put that bottle down!’

There was a sound of shouting and scuffling. Corey groaned. ‘Oh, no, we have enough of this at work. What the hell’s going on?’

‘Who suggested we should go and have a quiet drink after work?’ murmured Frankie sardonically. ‘Perhaps next time we’ll go to the café on the high street for a nice cup of tea…’

A chair was thrown against the bar, and a scream came from a woman in the little knot of onlookers. Then there was a general intake of breath as someone fell to the floor and two or three men began to wrestle with a tall youth in a black leather jacket and shaven head. Gradually he was manhandled to the wall and pinned against it with his arms behind his back. The figure on the floor lay still.

‘I only tapped him one,’ shouted the youth. ‘It was just a tickle—no reason for him to go down. He was threatening me with a bottle… He’s dead drunk, out for the count.’

Frankie’s eyes met Corey’s in humorous exasperation. ‘Here we go—sounds rather familiar doesn’t it?’ she murmured. ‘Better go and look, I suppose.’

They pushed their way through the small crowd of gawping customers, and Frankie said quietly to the landlord, who was bending down by the fallen man with two other people. ‘I’m a doctor and my friend’s a nurse—perhaps we’d better see how this man is if you’d just let us through…’

The landlord looked at her with relief and stepped back. ‘Thank God—I’d be grateful. This is the last thing I need. No decent punters want to come to a place where brawls are happening. The police and ambulance are on their way—but Lord knows how long they’ll be.’ He glanced down at the supine figure before him. ‘This guy looks as if he’s had a skinful—completely blotto. What do you think?’

The young man had started groaning, his eyes fluttering in a grey-tinged face and his limbs moving restlessly from side to side.

‘He’s still with us at any rate,’ said Frankie, and squatted down beside him, holding his wrist to take his pulse, touching his forehead with her hand. She looked up at the curious onlookers. ‘Anyone know this man’s name?’

‘Gary Hemp,’ shouted someone.

‘Right, Gary,’ said Frankie, bending low over the man. ‘Can you hear me?’

Gary muttered something unintelligible, and Frankie pulled down his lower eyelid to look at his pupils. ‘No reaction,’ she murmured. ‘He’s sweating and his heart rate’s up.’ She looked up at Corey, frowning. ‘But something doesn’t add up here. Did you see where he was hit?’ she asked the landlord, who was now standing over her with folded arms and pursed lips.

‘It didn’t look a full-blooded punch,’ he admitted, ‘more a swipe that glanced against his chin, but he went down like a felled tree.’

‘It’s possible he’s got concussion from hitting his head on the floor,’ pondered Frankie, ‘But it’s a carpeted area here. I wouldn’t have thought…’ She bent forward and smelt the man’s breath, then looked up at Corey with a slightly triumphant smile. ‘I think I’ve got it, Corey. Not sure if I’m right, though. What do you think?’

Corey knelt next to Gary and put her face close to his. ‘He smells of alcohol, that’s for sure…but there is something else on his breath, too, which reminds me of nail polish. It’s acetone, isn’t it?’

Frankie nodded. ‘My guess is he’s diabetic, and he’s got alcohol-induced hypoglycaemia. It probably didn’t help when he was involved in a fight. At least we know what we’re trying to cope with when the ambulancemen get here.’

A man from the watching crowd called out, ‘That’s right, Doc—he’s diabetic. Has to inject himself every day.’

‘Ah, yes, look at that, Corey—a pinprick on his thumb.’

Frankie turned the man’s hand towards Corey, who put a cushion from one of the chairs under Gary’s head and covered him with a rug the barman handed to her.

‘Is he in danger?’ asked the landlord looking anxiously at the figure on the floor.

‘If he’s not treated, he could be,’ admitted Frankie.

‘In what way? What can it do to him?’ asked the landlord. ‘I thought he’d just had a skinful.’

‘A diabetic who takes alcohol can suffer an unnatural surge of insulin, and that can absorb too much of the glucose in his blood. That affects the nervous system, which in turn could lead to brain damage,’ she explained.

‘Bloody hell,’ said the landlord. He gazed nervously at the youth and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. ‘Will he be all right, then?’

The sound of a siren whining down to silence came from outside and two policemen and a paramedic appeared at the door. The two girls exchanged relieved looks and Corey murmured, ‘The cavalry’s arrived, thank God. Once we’ve got some glucose into him he’ll improve.’

The paramedic strode over to the injured man and then looked at Frankie and Corey in surprise. ‘I thought I’d said goodbye to you two about an hour ago—after we brought in those RTA victims. Don’t you have a home to go to?’ He knelt down beside Frankie. ‘What’s happened to this gentleman?’

‘I’m pretty sure it’s alcohol-induced hypolglycaemia,’ said Frankie. ‘I suggest you give him fifty grams of glucose intravenously, and then you can take him back to hospital and get him in balance again. His name’s Gary Hemp.’

‘I’ll do a quick blood test with a Haemastix strip,’ said the paramedic, opening his medical bag. He withdrew a little blood from the patient’s arm and put a blob on the strip. ‘Yup—his blood sugar’s way down,’ he remarked. ‘Better get some glucagen into him.’

He took out a prepacked needle and phial of glucose, which he swiftly injected into the man. ‘Involved in a fight, was he? He’s got a cut lip…’

‘It wasn’t my fault,’ shouted the other youth, now held by one of the policemen. ‘I told you, he suddenly went beserk—tried to kill me with a broken bottle, he did! I wasn’t doing anything to him at all, just talking about football,’ he added in an aggrieved voice.

‘He could very well have got aggressive just before he went down,’ murmured Frankie to the other policeman. ‘People who are out of balance with their insulin can sometimes become very hostile—change their character completely.’

Gradually the young man’s eyes flickered open and he looked in a bewildered way at the faces above him.

‘You’re all right, Gary—just had some imbalance with your insulin,’ said the paramedic. ‘Forget to take it today, did you? Don’t worry, son, we’re just going to take you to hospital to check you out.’

The youth moaned faintly. ‘What’s happened?’ he croaked as he was being stretchered out of the pub. The other youth’s details were taken down by the policeman. Gradually the onlookers drifted back to the bar, and the paramedic turned to Frankie and Corey as he picked up his medical bag.

‘I know you’re off duty,’ he said pleadingly, ‘but you couldn’t come back with us, could you? Just heard that there’s been a general call for more staff—a wall’s collapsed in the high street and there’s several people trapped. Some of the A and E staff have gone out to the scene.’

Corey groaned. ‘I was going to have a lovely bath, watch telly all evening and eat really unhealthy food…’

She looked enquiringly at Frankie, who shrugged and nodded. ‘Go on, then, tell them we’ll be there in a minute.’ After all, she thought bleakly, she wasn’t going to be doing anything else when she went home—not even making plans for a wedding any more.

* * *

Denniston Vale Infirmary was a sprawling Victorian Hospital with modern additional wings tacked onto it in random fashion, their pockmarked walls contrasting oddly with the magnificent stonework of the original building. It stood on a hill at the edge of Denniston town, an imposing clock tower rising from the centre of the building and impressive stone steps leading up to the front entrance, although the ambulances went round the back where the casualty department was situated.

As Frankie’s car swung round the corner to the staff car park, they could see three ambulances lined up, with patients being lifted out on trolleys then being pushed through to the unit. Two police cars were parked to the side of the ambulances, their blue lights still flashing, and a harassed-looking plump nurse with a clipboard was watching the proceedings.

‘Looks a biggy,’ groaned Corey. ‘My feet are killing me already at the thought of it.’

‘Come on,’ said Frankie. ‘You won’t notice your feet once you get going.’

‘Don’t you believe it,’ retorted Corey. ‘And look who’s on duty—fusspot Sister Kenney. That’s going to make my day.’

She jumped out of the car and they began to trot towards the entrance.

‘What did I tell you?’ she murmured, as the nurse stepped towards them and wrote something on the clipboard. ‘Evening, Sister Kenney.’

The woman nodded to her, a brief smile replacing her worried frown for a minute. ‘Thank you for coming in—I’m really grateful.’ She waved vaguely towards the bustle of ambulances and stretchers. ‘As you can see, we’re very much stretched at the moment. We’ve got Mr Burton from Orthopaedics helping to deal with the injuries from the collapsed wall and I’ve managed to persuade the senior nursing officer to loan us some nurses from Medical.’

‘That must have taken some doing,’ murmured Frankie.

Sister Kenney allowed herself a small triumphant grin. ‘It’s about time they helped us out. Now, please, would you look at a woman with chest pains in the end cubicle? She’s a Mrs Jepson, just come in while all this brouhaha was going on, and all three theatres and the emergency room are in use. She needs her vital signs monitored—I’ll leave you to do that, Dr Lovatt.’

It took just a few minutes to scramble into their hospital greens and make their way to the large central area surrounded by cubicles. A large woman lying propped up on a bed in the end cubicle looked at Frankie and Corey with frightened eyes. She had the familiar expression of many patients who found themselves in a totally alien situation with people they didn’t know, surrounded by sights and sounds they probably associated more with television dramas than their own life. She was clutching the hand of a small man sitting by her side.

‘Am I having a heart attack?’ she asked tremulously. ‘I’ve got these awful pains, and my husband thinks it could be a myocardial….’ She looked helplessly at the small man.

‘Myocardial infarction,’ he said rather smugly.

The woman’s voice had started to rise on the edge of panic, her mouth trembling, and Frankie put a reassuring hand on her arm, trying to calm her patient and reduce her stress levels. As usual, she found herself using well-worn platitudes, which nevertheless were soothing in their familiarity, comforting phrases that the woman would have known all her life.

‘It’s Mrs Jepson, isn’t it?’ she said kindly. ‘Now, please, don’t worry—I want you to try and relax. We’re going to run a series of tests that will help to tell us what’s causing these pains. It could be a variety of things and we mustn’t jump to conclusions. But you’re in the right place to find these things out.’

The small man nodded sagely. ‘That’s what I told her, Doctor. I said it could also be indigestion—she had chips and sausages just an hour ago, and an apple pie, didn’t you, love?’

‘So you are Mr Jepson?’ asked Corey, attaching a monitor to the woman’s arm that ran a trace of the patient’s blood oxygen sats and blood pressure on a screen.

‘I am indeed,’ said the man. ‘We were going to the cinema—just paid for the tickets as a matter of fact when she was took bad.’

‘This came on quite suddenly, then?’ asked Frankie, watching the screen monitor.

The woman shifted restlessly. ‘Well, I’ve not been feeling quite myself for a few days—had this horrible pain near my heart.’ She indicated an area in the centre of her chest. ‘But it’s got worse and worse this evening.’

Mr Jepson looked at her indignantly. ‘You never said, Norma. I didn’t know you’d been feeling off…’

‘Didn’t want to worry you,’ his wife said, rather sullenly.

‘Well, your blood pressure’s OK,’ said Frankie. ‘Have you had an operation lately, or an injury that’s kept you in bed?’

Mrs Jepson shook her head, and her husband leaned forward eagerly. ‘You thinking of a blood clot on the lungs, Doctor? Could it be that?’

His wife gave a start of horror and Frankie’s eyes met Corey’s in a brief exasperated glance. Mr Jepson seemed intent on alarming his wife as much as possible, and making a nervous patient even more apprehensive. If he wanted to send his wife’s blood pressure sky high, he was going the best way about it, thought Frankie, hiding her irritation by smiling winningly at him.

‘We’ll be some time examining your wife, so why don’t you go and have a coffee from the machine in the waiting room while you can? When you come back, we may have more news to tell you.’

The man looked hesitant. ‘Surely it’s better that I stay and keep Norma calm?’

‘It’ll be best to sit with your wife when we’ve finished our assessment. These cubicles are small and it gets a little crowded in here, as you can see…’

The man stumped off unwillingly, only turning back at the door to comment to his wife, ‘If it’s a heart attack, you’ll be in here for days, you know.’

Norma looked mournfully at Frankie. ‘We were going on holiday next week—looks like we’ll have to cancel it if I’m going to be here for ages.’

‘You may be feeling much better soon,’ said Corey brightly. ‘Wait until we’ve had the results of your blood tests…’

‘And we’ll run a cardiac trace to check your heart,’ added Frankie.

The phone rang at the main nurses’ station and Corey left to answer it. Frankie leant forward to listen to the woman’s chest through her stethoscope. When she put the stethoscope on the area of skin below her breasts, Mrs Jepson flinched.

‘Don’t touch me there—it’s absolute agony, that!’ she gasped.

Frankie looked more closely at the area she’d just touched and frowned. ‘Did you know you’ve got a rash here…quite a distinctive rash?’

‘There wasn’t anything there yesterday.’

Frankie pulled the overhead light so that it focussed on the red weal across the woman’s chest. ‘You know, Mrs Jepson,’ she said slowly, ‘I think that this could be a clue to the mystery of your pain.’

Mrs Jepson gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘It’s my heart, isn’t it?’ she said in a quiet voice, as if bracing herself for very bad news. ‘Have you heard something odd through that instrument?’

‘Your heart and chest sounded fine—it’s what I can see that’s quite illuminating. You’ve got a band of blistery little spots across your chest, which have probably just come out. Does it feel itchy?’

‘A little. It’s painful when you touch that area, and there’s a horrible pain deep into the chest….’

The door opened behind Frankie and a deep voice said, ‘Was someone wanting a heart trace in here?’

Frankie glanced towards the tall figure who’d entered the cubicle, then her mouth dropped as she did a double-take at the tall man with rimless glasses and russet hair who stood in front of her. Was she imagining things or was it really the familiar figure of Jack Herrick?

‘My God…Jack!’ she exclaimed. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

Jack stared back at Frankie, also stunned. ‘I might ask you the same thing,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know you were working at the infirmary…’

‘I have been for six months…You must be the new registrar that Corey told me about.’

Mrs Jepson looked from one doctor to the other, interest making her forget her discomfort for the moment.

‘You two old friends, then?’ she asked.

Jack smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Jepson. As you can see, we’re both a bit surprised to see each other. And yes, we go back quite a long way. Now, first things first—I believe you’ve been having chest pains…’

‘I’d like you to take a look at this rash, Dr Herrick,’ said Frankie, her mind still buzzing with the surprise of seeing him. ‘I’d be interested to know what you think.’

He inspected the reddened area closely for a moment, then looked across at Frankie. ‘Not much doubt about it—a good example of Herpes zoster, I would say.’

‘What’s that?’ asked Mrs Jepson.

‘I suppose you had chickenpox when you were a child?’

She looked puzzled. ‘Yes. All my brothers and sisters had it at the same time—Mum nearly went mad!’

‘Then your past has come back to haunt you, I think. The virus has been reactivated, and all the signs point to it being shingles…’

‘Shingles?’ repeated Mrs Jepson, gazing at both doctors in astonishment.

‘That’s right,’ said Frankie. ‘The pain in your body is caused by the shingles. In fact, the virus is affecting the nerve endings—that’s why it’s so sore. The rash often doesn’t appear for a few days.’

The woman lay back on the pillows. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘Is that all it is?’

Frankie smiled. ‘It’s not very nice, I’m afraid, but it’s better than having a heart attack! Mind you, I still think we need to run these tests on you. We don’t want to assume that just because you’ve got shingles there aren’t any other problems.’

‘That’s one thing my Bert never thought of!’ Mrs Jepson looked rather triumphantly at Frankie and Jack, clearly pleased to have put one over on her husband. ‘I wonder what’s brought on shingles, then? I’ve not been near anyone with chickenpox…’

‘It doesn’t work that way. Often it’s because you’ve been under stress for some reason and perhaps your immune system’s been compromised—or possibly because you’ve been on steroid treatment.’

‘That makes sense,’ said Mrs Jepson gloomily. ‘I’ve had that much trouble with our son—he’s been in trouble with the police, taking drugs, joy-riding cars and I don’t know what else. I’ve been out of my mind with worry.’

Jack nodded sympathetically. ‘That sort of thing could trigger an attack. We could try you on an antiviral drug which might reduce the severity of the active stage and minimise nerve damage.’

Frankie broke open a sterile needle pack and nodded, adding, ‘In the meantime, we’ll make sure that this is the only problem you have. Dr Herrick will run a trace on your heart when I’ve taken some blood for tests.’

She wound a cuff round the patient’s arm to make it easier to find a vein. Jack watched as she completed the task and she felt his gaze on her. She wondered if he felt any embarrassment at all, bumping into her like this. Was he going to explain why he’d just vanished into thin air and had he any idea how much he’d hurt her? Not, she conceded wryly, as much as his precious brother-in-law had hurt her—but it had been damned rude to vanish without explanation. Recently men seemed to have treated her pretty badly, she reflected grimly.

Her patient’s plaintive voice brought Frankie guiltily back to the matter in hand. ‘I hope I don’t faint, Doctor—I have a horror of needles. Have you nearly finished yet? I can’t bear to look at what you’re doing.’

Frankie drew some blood into the needle and smiled reassuringly at Mrs Jepson. ‘There we go! All done now. We’ll soon get the tests back.’

Mrs Jepson lay back on the pillows and looked up at them both. ‘Thank goodness that’s over! And fancy me having shingles! I can’t wait to tell Bert.’

Frankie moved over to the shelf to pick up the phials for the blood. She brushed past Jack and flicked him a caustic glance. ‘I was led to believe you’d moved miles away from here when you left,’ she said in a low voice.

Was there slight embarrassment in his eyes when they met hers? ‘That’s true. I went down to London, but things didn’t work out quite how I hoped. However, it looks like we’ll be working together again—it’ll seem like old times,’ he commented smilingly.

Not quite like old times, thought Frankie. She’d thought that Jack and she had had a free and easy relationship before—now she couldn’t help feeling resentful at working again with a colleague who had brushed off their friendship so casually. Now another dynamic had entered the picture: she was no longer engaged to Damian. She and Jack did not have that connection any more, and perhaps it was better that way—she did not want to be reminded of Damian, who had finished with her as casually as he would a boring book, with no explanation. That part of her life was over and, as far as she was concerned working with Jack Herrick again was going to be just another job.

CHAPTER TWO

THE NEXT HOUR was manic, the pressure on Casualty building up with the usual emergency cases as well as those involved in the collapsed wall. It was ten o’clock before the situation eased and Frankie and Corey met in the staffroom.

‘That’s three fractures, an overdose, a scalding and a drunk who nearly suffocated on his own vomit, topped off with Sister Kenney telling me to help that dozy porter, Tim, move six oxygen cylinders from the passage. I’ve had enough!’ Corey flopped dramatically back on the sofa. ‘Next time we’re asked to do overtime, they can get someone else!’

Frankie smiled. ‘Go on—you know you love it really. Now, get that coffee down you.’

She handed Corey a mug. Corey took a sip and sighed. ‘Even this instant sludge tastes good at the moment. By the way, have you bumped into knockout Jack Herrick yet, our new registrar? I could hardly concentrate on what I was doing…’

‘It turns out that he was the man I used to work with at St Mary’s,’ said Frankie. ‘It was a surprise, seeing him again.’ She looked ruefully at Corey. ‘He also happens to be Damian’s brother-in-law.’

‘Ouch! How bizarre is that!’ said Corey in surprise. ‘So does he know what that rat has done to you?’

‘I haven’t got round to it yet. I suppose I’ll have to tell him later. It was through Jack that I met Damian originally.’

‘Well, I hope Jack will be suitably horrified.’ Corey looked speculatively at Frankie. ‘I guess you’ll know a bit about this gorgeous Jack, won’t you? I suppose he’s married with about four kids.’

‘He’s a widower with one little girl. His wife, Damian’s sister, was killed in a car accident two years ago, but—’

‘I knew there’d be a “but,”’ said Corey with a grimace.

‘I did hear he was engaged and I don’t know why he’s come back to this area.’

‘Just my luck. Ah, well, my own lovely warm bed beckons.’ Corey hauled herself out of the sofa. ‘See you Monday, Frankie. Sleep well.’

She went out as Sister Kenney bustled in, her blue uniform straining over her plump bosom and the usual harassed expression on her face. ‘Is there any coffee in that pot? I must have something before I start filing my admissions register in the office. I hope we’re on top of things now.’

Frankie looked at her sympathetically. People tended to make fun of Sister Kenney and her fussy manner, but she was a well-organised woman who tried to do her best for the staff and the patients. Frankie handed her a mug.

‘Do you need me any more?’ she asked.

‘No. You get off now—and thanks for coming in. Even with our new registrar, we couldn’t have coped without you. Have you met him, by the way? He’s called Jack Herrick and I must say I’m favourably impressed so far.’

‘I used to work with him at my last job. And yes, he’ll be good to have on the team.’

Sister raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? That’s excellent news. You’ll know each other’s methods, then.’

As if on cue, the door was pushed open and Jack walked in. Sister Kenney gave him a wide smile.

‘I believe you know each other already…I didn’t realise that you and Frankie used to be colleagues.’ She shot a look at her watch. ‘I’m sure she can fill you in on any queries you have—but I’ll have to get on now and tell the nurses we borrowed from Medical that they can finish now.’

She marched out and left Frankie and Jack alone. Jack lifted the coffee-pot.

‘Want a cup?’ he asked.

‘No, thanks, I’m going home now and I don’t want any caffeine to keep me awake.’

He looked at her levelly, then said slowly, ‘It’s good to see you Frankie—a lovely surprise.’

Frankie nodded without smiling. She wasn’t going to go overboard at seeing him again just yet. Jack was another man who hadn’t behaved all that well towards her, albeit in a much milder way than Damian had.

‘Yes, I thought I’d never see you again when you vanished into thin air,’ she said pointedly. ‘You left before I could ask you anything. I…I wondered what had happened to make you leave so abruptly.’

He grimaced. ‘I’m sorry about that, Frankie. I should have spoken to you before I left and I know I owe you an explanation.’

‘You don’t have to tell me why you went,’ said Frankie frostily. ‘It was just a little impersonal, leaving a note pinned to my locker to tell me you were leaving. I…I thought we were good friends. I think I deserved more than that.’ She paused and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. ‘On the other hand, was it something I did? Perhaps I upset you in some way.’

He winced slightly, then he said vehemently, ‘Of course it wasn’t your fault. For heaven’s sake, you were my…well, my best friend. I feel ashamed that I hurt you, but…’ He paused for a moment, as if thinking of how to phrase his next sentence. ‘Well, the thing is, something happened—something that made me realise I had to leave immediately. Believe me, the last thing I wanted to do in the world was offend you, of all people—someone who’s going to be related to me as well.’

Frankie bit her lip, that cold feeling of rejection sweeping over her again. She could see a short-term future of repeating the same information over and over again to those who’d known she’d been engaged to Damian, but there was no point in beating about the bush. The truth had to come out some time, so why not now?

‘Actually, there’s something you might as well know…’

He looked at her enquiringly, one eyebrow raised.

‘Damian and I aren’t engaged any more, Jack.’ She said it baldly, almost defiantly, not willing to show how devastated she felt.

An astounded expression crossed his face, and he put his mug of coffee down on the worktop so forcefully that the liquid slopped over the rim. ‘What? You…you’ve broken up? When did this happen? I thought you were going to organise the wedding with him when he came over just before I left for London.’

Frankie’s voice hardened. ‘As a matter of fact, I received the letter earlier today, if you must know. He doesn’t want to get married now. And don’t ask me why—I’ve no idea.’

‘It’s unbelievable,’ Jack said slowly. ‘You and he…well, you seemed like the perfect couple, so well matched. I thought you two would go on for ever…’

‘So did I, Jack, so did I.’ Frankie couldn’t help the sadness reflected in her expression, but after a short silence she said brusquely, ‘But it’s over now—no possibility of getting back together. He’s let me down. I could never trust him again, whatever the reason is that he wanted to be free of me.’

It was odd how numb she felt, as if the full shock of her broken engagement had yet to hit her properly. She looked at Jack challengingly. ‘Would you have said he was untrustworthy? You’ve known him for many years.’

Jack shook his head in bewilderment. ‘He’s incredibly fearless—got me out of several sticky situations. In fact, he saved my life once when we were white-water rafting—at great risk to his own life. From that point of view I guess I found him very reliable. But this… I can’t understand it. He told me he was mad about you.’

Jack stared at her, his eyes holding hers, something unreadable in their bright blue depths behind the studious-looking glasses. Frankie looked at his tall figure leaning against the cupboard, his arms crossed over his chest and the hospital greens he was wearing open at the neck. Quite suddenly she realised for the first time just how damned attractive Jack was. It was utterly ridiculous, especially in the circumstances of having just been dumped by someone she’d thought was the love of her life. Of course, she’d always considered Jack a good-looking man, but quiet and unassuming. Damian was the type of man who held the floor, enjoyed being the life and soul of the party—Jack always seemed to be an amused onlooker. Her assessment of Jack had been sisterly, regarding him as an easygoing and sympathetic companion.

Now she realised that Jack’s diffident manner seemed to emphasise his appeal, and she suddenly understood that many girls would find him extremely sexy. She remembered Corey had found him drop-dead gorgeous…

With an effort she turned away sharply, giving the worktop another good polish to allow herself time to recover. How shallow could you get? She’d just been dumped by his brother-in-law, hadn’t she? She wasn’t supposed to have weak-at-the-knee feelings for other men!

‘Let’s change the subject,’ she said lightly. ‘I heard somewhere that you’d got engaged recently. When’s the happy day?’

He smiled ruefully. ‘I’m afraid that bit the dust as well. My fault—I got engaged for the wrong reasons far too quickly and it was never going to work out.’

She turned to him, genuine sympathy on her face. ‘Oh, dear, you felt it was too soon after Sue’s death?’

He looked down at the floor for a moment, his fists clenching together at his sides. ‘That could be the reason,’ he murmured.

‘Better to find out now than later,’ comforted Frankie.

Jack nodded, watching her as she folded the dishcloth and hung it over the taps. ‘Absolutely. Getting entangled in the wrong relationship is madness—it can ruin your life. One should be totally sure you’ve got the right person.’

Frankie picked up her bag and her mouth twisted sadly. ‘You don’t have to tell me that, Jack. Perhaps Damian’s done me a favour after all.’ She flicked her hair back from her forehead. ‘Now, tell me about Abby. I suppose she’s at a local school? I have missed her, you know.’

He smiled and pulled out a photograph from his trouser pocket. ‘This is her in her new school uniform—she’s very proud of it.’

Frankie gazed at the photograph he passed her, and said wistfully, ‘She’s grown since I saw her last—inevitable, I suppose. But she looks so sweet and still very young—and very like Sue!’

Jack nodded. ‘Yes, I’m relieved to say she’s taken after her mother in looks. In fact Abby’s the reason I’ve come to Denniston. My parents live here and they want to help me as much as possible with Abby, which will be great. It’s not much fun, coping on your own.’

‘Lovely for them, too, I imagine, to watch their little granddaughter grow up. I’d love to see her again.’

He took off his glass and polished them, then said rather diffidently, ‘Perhaps this is a bit of a cheek, but if you’re interested and have the time, Abby’s got a sports day at school next weekend—I don’t suppose you’d come if you’re not at work? She’d really love you to be there, I know.’

Frankie felt a little leap of pleasure—seeing Abby again would be lovely. Then she hesitated slightly, reluctant to restart a friendship that had seemed to founder so abruptly previously.

She replied lightly, ‘If I’m free, I’d love to come. I’ll let you know nearer the time.’

If he noticed her reserved tone, he didn’t show it. ‘Sure,’ he said easily. ‘I’ll remind you about it.’

Frankie opened the door and looked back at him. ‘I’ll see you next week, then. Now I’m off to have a good sleep—so much has happened today I feel absolutely pole-axed!’

‘I bet you do, Frankie. And I’m so sorry that this has happened.’

‘Don’t be. I’m not going to let it ruin my future—but I would like to know just why the hell Damian suddenly felt he couldn’t love me any more!’

Her eyes bright with unshed tears, Frankie walked quickly out of the room.

* * *

Jack watched Frankie disappear and shook his head in disbelief at what she’d told him. How could Damian have finished with a girl like her—talented, fun, a knockout to look at, but most of all a kindly and generous person? The man was a fool—a restless soul who ran through money, lived life to the full and easily became bored. But even so, he’d thought that when Damian had met Frankie, his friend had found a soulmate.

Jack finished the dregs of his coffee and slumped moodily down in a chair, staring unseeingly at a poster on the wall in front of him that exhorted him to wash his hands. He remembered how thrilled his darling wife Sue had been when her brother had become engaged to Frankie. The two girls had become great friends and extremely close, seeing each other frequently—and, of course, that had helped to forge the friendship he and Frankie had had after Sue’s death.

His thoughts drifted to his friendship with Frankie now and he sighed ruefully. He’d obviously hurt Frankie very much by leaving the last job so abruptly, and it was going to take time to heal the wounds of bruised friendship. Who could blame Frankie for feeling offended when he’d gone without a word of explanation?

Jack picked up a pencil from the worktop and rolled it absently between his fingers. He’d thought he’d acted for the best when he’d left St Mary’s, that he’d had no choice, but he’d handled things clumsily and had ended up jeopardising that friendship. However, after all he’d done to distance himself from her, it seemed that fate had thrown them together again, and he was back to square one—except that now Frankie was a free agent. Would that make life easier between them? He sighed and flung the pencil back on the worktop as he strode out of the room.

* * *

It was Friday afternoon and Jack was scrubbing up in the little anteroom off the small clean theatre in A and E. His patient lay with eyes closed in a face so battered it was hard to tell what sex it was. The cheeks and eyes were swollen, as were the lips, bloodied and twice normal size. Her head had been raised so that there would be the least tension possible on her face.

‘Thanks for helping me out, Frankie,’ said Jack.

‘No worries. We’re reasonably quiet now,’ Frankie replied.

She started to scrub up beside him, lathering the soap well up to her elbows, massaging it between her fingers, trying to ignore the fact that she and Jack were so close together. Uneasily she had to admit that she had begun to think of Jack in a different way since that brief episode in the staff kitchen. Up until now Damian had been the only man who’d attracted her, but now she realised, that far from being a man she’d thought of more as a brother than anything else, Jack was extremely sexy in a quiet and restrained way. She gazed at her troubled face in the mirror above the basin. Her instinct was to keep out of Jack’s way as much as she could, but in a busy A and E department that was impossible.

She pulled a paper towel out of the slot and started to dry her hands briskly. She couldn’t understand the sudden attraction she felt for Jack—was it a case of off with the old and on with the new? She threw the paper towel in the bin and told herself that it was a reaction to Damian breaking off the engagement. The last thing she wanted now was to start looking for another man in her life.

‘Mr Caulfield, the plastic surgeon, is tied up with a complicated operation and we need to close up these wounds on Mrs Casson’s face and arm as soon as possible before a risk of infection sets in,’ Jack continued, looking at her over his mask.

Frankie nodded, hoping those piercing blue eyes couldn’t see her thoughts inside her head. ‘Poor woman. We don’t want to have to open them up later and risk scarring. What on earth happened to her?’

‘Some charming youths relieved her of her purse while she was shopping,’ he replied grimly. ‘I only wish I could use my scalpel on them in a place they won’t forget.’

They made their way over to the patient. Mrs Casson’s eyes were opened now, fearful and apprehensive. ‘What are you going to do?’ she whispered.

‘We’re going to take care of you, Mrs Casson,’ said Jack in his calm, firm voice. ‘You’re in safe hands. We’ll do a bit of stitching and clean up these wounds. It’ll take some time for the swelling to go down, but in a few days you’ll be back to normal.’ He grinned down at her and patted her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, we’re brilliant at embroidery.’

The woman attempted a stiff little smile at Jack’s reassuring manner and joke, visibly relaxing, and Jack was able to assess to a small degree the range of movement Mrs Casson had in her face.

Corey had been checking the instruments in the tray. She swung the overhead light so that the beam was fixed on the patient’s face and said, ‘Mrs Casson’s had an injection of Valium, just to keep her relaxed, and an anti-tetanus jab.’

‘Good—then we’ll make a start.’

The woman turned slightly towards Jack and said thickly, ‘Will this hurt?’

Jack smiled at her kindly. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Casson. I know it probably feels pretty awful at the moment, but we’re going to give you some local anaesthetic and we’ll stitch these deep cuts on your face—you won’t feel anything—then you’ll go for a scan to make sure you’ve no internal head injuries.’

Mrs Casson muttered something that sounded like, ‘They were horrible!’

‘I couldn’t agree more. Did you manage to get a description of the yobs that did this to you?’

‘They were all wearing hoods,’ Mrs Casson mumbled. ‘They reeked of drink.’ A tear rolled out of her swollen eye and coursed down her cheek. ‘I had all the money from the old folk for their shopping…I didn’t expect anyone to do this in a supermarket….’

Her voice trailed away, and Frankie’s and Jack’s eyes met over their masks in sympathy. ‘If it’s any comfort, I believe that the police are holding three youths,’ said Jack. ‘But first things first—we’re going to do our best to make you look as beautiful as you did before.’

‘If you can make me look better than I did before, that would be good,’ she whispered.

Corey held Mrs Casson’s hand as the doctors began to work on the woman’s face. It was a kindly gesture that always made the patient feel less isolated: it was important for her to feel the comforting contact with one of the nursing staff.

Frankie swabbed the wounds with a saline solution and Jack carefully inserted a fine-bore needle in the woman’s lower cheek to numb the area to be repaired then both doctors bent over the cuts they were going to suture. Jack concentrated on the long gash in Mrs Casson’s cheek, while Frankie worked on a deep cut in the woman’s arm. The Valium was doing its job—the patient lay calmly, sad eyes watching them, her muscles relaxed, making it easier to work on the wounds. They used fine-filament gut which Corey passed them in threaded needles.

The gash in the arm only took a few minutes to close, but the cheek wound took longer. It was a delicate job to close the muscle and ensure that there was no pulling which could cause facial distortion. Jack worked quickly, but it was still a lengthy and finicky business. His face frowned in concentration as he matched the opposite sides of the wound to each other, careful to stitch it without stretching the skin.

Frankie and Corey watched silently, both admiring the deftness Jack showed in such a precise exercise. It was weird, working with Jack once more, reflected Frankie, looking at the way his hair was cut rather raggedly on the nape of his neck. She’d never thought she’d see him again after his abrupt disappearance, but now they seemed to have slotted back into much the same routine they’d had before except for one thing—now she was aware of him as a man with an intriguing aura of sexual attraction. It frightened her, and because she was frightened she couldn’t stop thinking about it, playing with the idea of being attracted to him, as one touched a spot on one’s face to see if it had disappeared.

‘That’s that. All done, Mrs Casson,’ he said, standing up and stretching to unstiffen his back. ‘You’ll just go to the recovery room until they come to take you for a scan. In a few days that swelling should go down, and hopefully you’ll begin to feel a lot better.’

‘Thank you,’ whispered Mrs Casson.

‘She may feel physically better in a few days,’ remarked Frankie as Mrs Casson was taken away by Tim Mackenzie, one of the porters, to the recovery room. ‘But it’ll be a long time before she recovers mentally from a horrible experience like that.’

Jack flung his latex gloves into a bin. ‘I’d like the idiots who did it to see what they’ve done to her,’ he said grimly. He flicked a look at his watch. ‘I could do with a cup of strong tea,’ he remarked. ‘How about you?’

‘Sounds a good idea. I’ll be there in a minute when I’ve written up Mrs Casson’s notes.’

Frankie scribbled in the drugs dosages they’d given Mrs Casson and the procedures she’d undergone, slipping the paper into the patient’s folder and putting it in the tray to be filed away later. It was quiet in the unit at the moment. She could hear Sister Kenney in the office instructing Cindy Wallace, the junior nurse, on how to administer injections, and at the end of the corridor a cleaner was polishing the floor. Suddenly Frankie wasn’t sure about being in the kitchen alone with Jack—then she felt a surge of annoyance with herself. Surely it hadn’t come to this, that a few days after meeting the man again she was so frightened of her feelings towards him that she couldn’t have a cup of tea with him? Purposefully, she turned towards the kitchen and went in.

He looked up, smiling. ‘Ah, I wondered what had kept you. A cup of tea there for you—strong enough to stand the spoon in. I reckon we deserve it after dealing with poor Mrs Casson.’

Frankie sank into a chair. ‘Makes you wonder what some of these people are on, that they’d do that to a woman trying to do her bit for others.’ She took a sip of the tea and wrinkled her nose. ‘Ouch. You’re right, this is strong. Any more milk in that jug?’

He grinned and passed her the jug, and for a second their hands brushed against each other. With a jolt Frankie knew that she wasn’t imagining that zinging attraction she felt when she was near Jack. Her hands shook slightly as she put the cup to her lips again. He smiled at her, his intense eyes holding hers.

‘You did say that you might come to Abby’s sports day tomorrow. I hope you can manage it. She really really is looking forward to seeing you. My parents will be there as well—they’d love to meet you.’

‘Oh, I don’t know, Jack,’ Frankie replied, flustered. ‘I don’t want to butt in on a family occasion. Some other time perhaps….’

His face fell. ‘Abby will be disappointed—and so would I. I’d really like to try and make amends for my rudeness when I left so abruptly before. Besides, aren’t you practically family anyway?’

‘That’s not going to happen, Jack,’ Frankie said firmly. ‘As I told you before, I’m not going to be your sister-in-law I’m afraid.’

‘I’m sorry—that was tactless of me. Still, I’m sure Abby thinks of you as an auntie.’

His expression was wistful and Frankie sighed. Perhaps she was being silly, not taking the proffered olive branch. In any case, she’d love to see Abby again, and if his parents were there, it would sort of dilute the gathering. She smiled and nodded her head.

‘If you’re sure—then I look forward it.’

‘That’s wonderful. I’ll pick you up at about two o’clock.’

‘No need. I’ll meet you at the school field—I know where it is.’

The wall phone jangled and Frankie got up to answer it, her eyes following Jack as he left the room. She attributed the little leap of excitement she felt at the thought of the next day to seeing Abby again and nothing to do with the fact that Jack would be there.

CHAPTER THREE

FROM THE CAR park Frankie looked across the school playing fields to the knot of people waiting to see their children take part in the sports day. She hadn’t felt like coming that afternoon—the post had brought several brochures about wedding venues that she’d sent off for several weeks ago and now, of course, they wouldn’t be needed. That peculiar lost feeling of rejection kept coming over her in waves.

She stumped crossly over the field, glancing up at a threatening-looking sky with dark clouds massing up over the town. Her heart melted, however, when she saw Abby, standing in a line with several other children, all looking slightly overawed by the occasion of sports day. Abby was a little taller but otherwise she hadn’t changed much, her curly hair framing a sweet little face. It was lovely to see Abby again and, after all, she hadn’t planned anything else for the afternoon.

Frankie glanced across at Jack, his tall figure making him easy to recognize. It would be good to feel, well, almost part of a family, cheering Abby on and showing an interest in her. Bringing up a little girl by himself must be hard—no one to share in the pleasure and delight of his child when she achieved little milestones, or to worry with him when she was ill. Abby wasn’t surprised that Jack had moved to be nearer his parents.

Frankie watched Abby’s anxious little face as she scanned the onlookers, making sure that her father was there. Somehow she looked very vulnerable, slightly lost. She wondered if the child would remember her after so many months without seeing her, but suddenly Abby spotted Frankie walking at them and a big smile lit her face. She waved her hand towards Frankie and turned to the child next to her, pointing over to the watching adults. Her clear little voice wafted over to Frankie above the murmur of noise around her.

‘That’s Frankie!’

‘Who’s Frankie?’ the little friend asked.

Frankie saw Abby flick a glance towards her again and then explained earnestly, ‘She’s a person that used to help look after me—she’s like a mummy.’

The other child nodded. ‘I see. She’s instead of a Mummy, is she?’

Frankie forgot her morning’s frustration in her pleasure that Abby should remember her so well after so many months, although she couldn’t help being slightly embarrassed that Abby should think of her as a mother-figure! She glanced at Jack to see if he had heard, but he was talking to his parents and seemed unaware of his daughter’s comments. He looked up as Frankie approached, and his face lit up, changing his reserved look and making him look younger and less austere.

‘Glad you managed to come, Frankie. Abby will be delighted. Can I introduce you to my mother and father—Brian and Sheila Herrick?’

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