at the present time—two nurses and a senior registrar—so they had been relying on agency staff to fill in the gaps. As he skimmed his finger down the chart, he felt his stomach sink. Angie had pencilled in Agency’ in the nursing column for the following three weeks and he could only hope that it wouldn’t be Rose who was working for them. After all the hassle she’d caused him that day, he could do without having to spend the next three weeks working with her.
‘Checking what cover we’ve got?’
Owen glanced round when Angie came into the office. ‘Yes. I see you’ve hired agency staff for the next three weeks.’
‘I had to.’ Angie sighed as she glanced at the roster. ‘Now that Maggie’s gone on maternity leave we’re really struggling for cover. I know it’s costly to use agency staff, but I haven’t any choice. And at least the agency came up trumps this time. Rose is great, isn’t she? It’s wonderful to have someone who actually knows what she’s doing for a change.’
‘I wasn’t all that impressed with her,’ he said curtly, hanging the chart back on its hook. ‘Not only did I catch her in the staffroom drinking coffee, but she was also using the payphone in the foyer to organise her social life.’
‘Actually, I insisted she took a break.’ Angie shrugged when he looked at her in surprise. ‘I know what you’re thinking—I’m usually the one banging on about the amount of work agency staff do, but Rose isn’t like that. She’s a really hard worker.’
‘And the phone call?’ Owen said cynically, not convinced.
‘She could have been making the call for one of the patients. The girl who’d broken her finger asked me to thank Rose for getting in touch with her boyfriend,’ Angie explained. ‘I heard Rose say something about using the payphone when I was using the one in Reception, so that probably explains what she was doing.’
‘I see.’ Owen’s mouth compressed. Maybe it was unfair of him to have assumed the worst, but Rose only had herself to blame. If she hadn’t wheedled herself a place in his department, he wouldn’t be a bag of nerves from wondering what she was up to.
The thought of what Ms Tremayne might be plotting was more than he could cope with at the end of such a stressful day so Owen said his goodbyes and left. It was a thirty-minute drive to his home in Richmond on a good day, but the traffic was horrendous that night. It was almost seven by the time he let himself into the house, to be greeted by the thunderous delights of rock music pounding through the ceiling.
He sighed as he hung his coat in the cloakroom and made his way upstairs. The last thing he wanted was another confrontation with Daniel about the amount of time he wasted when he should be studying. He didn’t want to play the heavy-handed father all the time, but what else could he do? He couldn’t take the easy route and allow his son to ruin his whole future.
Owen rapped on the bedroom door and went in. Daniel was lying on his bed, playing air guitar. There was a pile of books on his desk but there was no sign that the boy had attempted to do any work. Walking over to the socket, Owen pulled out the plug, sighing in relief when the music immediately stopped.
‘Dad!’ Daniel leapt to his feet, looking pained as he hurried to the stereo to check if one of his precious vinyls had been damaged.
‘I thought we agreed that you’d cut down the amount of time you spend listening to music,’ Owen said quietly, deciding it would be less stressful if he adopted a reasonable approach. He really didn’t feel like getting into another argument. He’d had his fill after that last confrontation with Rose Tremayne.
The memory of what had happened still had the power to anger him but he battened down his emotions. ‘Have you done that geography essay yet? It has to be handed in by the end of this week.’
‘I was going to do it after dinner,’ Daniel explained mutinously, taking the record off the deck and carefully stowing it away in its cardboard sleeve.
‘Dinner will be a good half-hour yet, so why not make a start on it?’ he suggested mildly. There was no point ordering Daniel to get it done—experience had shown that the boy would make a mess of it on purpose if he did so. Daniel reacted badly to people ordering him about—just like his mother did.
The thought sent a rush of emotions scudding through him. Owen spun round on his heel, not wanting Daniel to see how upset he was. The fact that he had automatically linked Rose to his son made him feel all sorts of things, from guilt to a mind-numbing fear. He couldn’t afford to start noticing similarities in their behaviour—it was too dangerous. Rose was a stranger, and just because she had a problem with authority it didn’t mean that Daniel had inherited it from her.
‘I’ll give you a shout when dinner is ready,’ he said, going to the door.
Daniel muttered something in reply, but for once Owen wasn’t listening to what his son was saying. He was too busy trying to fight his own inner demons. He went downstairs and made them a meal. And the whole time he was grilling and chopping his mind was spinning in ever-decreasing circles.
He needed to find a solution to the problem of Rose Tremayne but it wasn’t going to be easy. If…He paused at that point and took a deep breath to steady himself then carried on. If Rose was as stubborn as Daniel, she wasn’t going to go away. She wasn’t going to stay quietly in the background either. Once she received Daniel’s letter then she would respond to it, and no amount of threats or coercion by him would change her mind.
His main aim had been to keep her out of Daniel’s life, but if it wasn’t possible to do that he would have to try a different tactic. Wasn’t there a saying about knowing one’s enemy? It might work very well in this instance. At the moment Daniel seemed to believe that his birth mother was some wonderful almost mythical being who was imbued with goodness and grace, but once he met her, he could change his mind.
The reality couldn’t possibly live up to his overly high expectations, and that was what Owen needed to concentrate on. Instead of keeping Rose away from his son, maybe he should let them meet and allow Daniel to form a true opinion of the woman who had given him away?
Just for a moment the thought flashed through his mind that perhaps his son wouldn’t be disappointed, but he refused to consider it. Rose might be many things but she wasn’t a saint!
Rose went straight home after she’d finished her shift. As she let herself into the building she could feel her heart racing. Ever since Owen had told her that Daniel had written to her, she had been waiting for his letter to arrive. She knew it could take some time to reach her, because it would have to be forwarded by the adoption agency. There was a system in place whereby a parent or an adopted child could leave a note in their files to say that they would welcome contact from the other party, which was how Owen had been able to get in touch with her. His letter had been forwarded by the agency, although she wouldn’t have been quite so keen to follow it up if she’d had an inkling of the outcome. Why did he consider her such a threat?
There was no answer to that question, or none that she could come up with, at least. Closing the front door, she went straight to the mailboxes at the back of the foyer. Every flat in the block had its own mailbox on the ground floor, to save the postman having to trek upstairs. She unlocked her box and sorted through the usual collection of junk mail and bills until she came to a familiar white envelope bearing the address of the adoption agency on its back flap. Daniel’s letter had arrived.
Rose made her way to the lift and stood there in a fever of impatience as it carried her up to the sixth floor. She let herself into her flat and ripped open the envelope, not
