stood up a little unsteadily; the glass of unaccustomed alcohol on a virtually empty stomach had affected her more than it should have done.
She cleared her throat, and the icy turquoise eyes glanced at her questioningly.
‘I’m sorry there’s been this mix-up,’ she babbled. ‘I’ll come and collect my things tomorrow, when they find me somewhere else.’
He gave her the faintest of smiles and she could have kicked herself—she hadn’t meant it to sound as if she was apologising for being here. She paused in the doorway, the beer seeming to have given her an uncontrollable urge to talk.
‘I don’t expect you are very hungry.’ She smiled, remembering the dishes she had washed up on her arrival. ‘It looked a delicious bolognese sauce!’
What had she said to offend him? He looked absolutely furious. He stood up suddenly and stared at her as witheringly as if she had been some small mollusc on the floor in front of him.
‘How like a woman,’ he muttered in disgust. ‘Even when there’s nothing to say, she’ll always come out with some meaningless babble. What is it they say about empty vessels?’
She stared at him, speechless for a moment. She had never in her life been spoken to in such a rude, dismissive manner by a virtual stranger. What God-given right did this man have to behave in such an unpleasant way?
She regarded him coldly, suddenly completely sober again.
‘You seem to have a problem with communication, Dr Forrester. How surprising for someone who has worked so much in the media! You are rude and boorish. And a bully,’ she added, thinking of how he had snapped so unnecessarily on the telephone. ‘Personally, I’d get something done about it if I were you—it can’t make you a very good doctor, now can it?’
She didn’t bother to wait around for his reply, but she saw that her barb had definitely reached its target, for his face was as black as thunder.
The short walk back to her room seemed to last forever. It felt as though she was walking the plank. She didn’t know what she was expecting him to do—rush after her and blast her out—but, in fact, he did nothing.
Once inside, she waited until she heard him go back to his room before she hurried in to use the bathroom. She bathed and brushed her teeth and wrapped her dressing-gown around her tightly before going back to her room, remembering his words and feeling stupidly afraid that perhaps she might come face to face with his naked body.
She read her book for a while longer, and decided to turn in for an early night before starting her new job—she wanted to be refreshed and rested to face all the hard work which lay ahead of her.
And then she did something she’d never done in all the time she’d lived away from home.
Turning the key in the door, she locked herself in.
LOUISA awoke with that curious feeling of disorientation which accompanied the first night spent in a strange bed. Even before she opened her eyes she seemed to sense the unfamiliar surroundings, and she came to slowly, seeing the pale light of the winter morning come creeping through the ghastly hospital curtains of orange and brown.
She sat up and clicked off the alarm clock she had not needed—she was so used to waking before seven that it had now become second nature to her. Her fears of the night before now served only to niggle her with an embarrassed shame. No doubt the women doctors who had fought for this particular equality would be appalled if they’d known that she had barricaded herself in her bedroom like some medieval virgin—but then, they had probably never met Adam Forrester!
Nevertheless, she sat still in bed for the moment, clad in one of the baggy T-shirts she always wore, listening out for any signs of life or, more specifically, any indication that the man himself might be roaming around the flat in his threatened lack of attire.
But she heard nothing, and so swung her legs out of the bed, pulled on her dressing-gown and headed for the bathroom with a youthful exuberance which was hard to dispel.
The irritating events of the afternoon and evening before slid into their correct place in the rational light of a new day—the bickering between herself and that mixed-up man were of little consequence to her today. She scrubbed her face with vigour, heart beating faster than usual, longing to start her new job.
She dressed with care. Unfair though it might seem, the clothes that a woman doctor wore were important. In many hospitals jeans or indeed any kind of trousers were out. It was a rule which was unstated, but a rule none the less which most of the women adhered to. Anything too frivolous, too obviously feminine, was frowned upon as well, so frills or very short skirts would not find favour with the hierarchy. The idea, she had decided long ago, was to sublimate their sexuality in as attractive a way as possible!
She donned a knee-length black skirt, teamed with a dark green shirt of shot silk which she had picked up in the sales. Matching dark green woollen tights and slim black patent shoes gave her a neat, co-ordinated appearance and she tied her dark chestnut waves into a pony-tail at the nape of her neck with a broad black velvet ribbon.
That done, she pulled on her white coat and checked the pockets for the equipment she would need each day on the wards. Stethoscope, patella hammer, ophthalmoscope and auroscope. She carried a book which listed all the commonly used drugs, their side-effects and contra-indications, and a thick black pocket notebook which she would shortly begin filling in with the names and diagnoses of all her new patients.
She was to report to Dale Ward at eight-thirty, where she would meet the rest of the team for a ‘breakfast’ meeting. Her new consultant was Dr Stanley Fenton-Taylor and she couldn’t wait to meet him. She had been interested in cardiology since her pre-clinical days as a student, reading the erudite yet intriguing books on this specialist subject with fervour. When she had learned that she had gained a job on his firm, she had been disbelieving, then overjoyed, and it had made up for her decision to leave Barts. It had been a prize which had come at the end of the worst period of her life—and if it hadn’t completely compensated for the events which had occurred, then it had certainly made her view her future with an entirely different attitude.
The flat was deserted, and she made herself some coffee which she drank down quickly and afterwards washed and dried the cup up. All was neat and tidy, so he must have washed up after their omelette last night. Well, she wouldn’t have to tolerate such a touchy flatmate for much longer. And, by the end of her first day’s work she would be able to come and pick up her belongings and move to somewhere more congenial.
It was a bleak, dull October morning with a fine grey drizzle in the air, and by the time she had walked over to the main building to Dale Ward a few wispy curls had escaped from the stark lines of her pony-tail, giving her face a sweetly feminine appearance.
She found the ward easily enough, and tapped on the door of Sister’s office. She wanted to follow all the protocol of hospital life correctly; she knew from experience how first impressions counted and if she wanted to be liked by the ward staff, then she must make sure she was suitably polite and likeable.
‘Sister’ turned out to be surprisingly young—possibly even younger than Louisa herself, a tall girl with luminous green eyes smiling at her from behind dark-rimmed glasses. She stood up as Louisa entered the room and held out her hand.
