style="font-size:15px;"> She tried to smile. If it weren’t for him she wouldn’t have had any trouble eating!
‘Thanks—fruit cake would be nice.’
‘Coffee?’
‘Tea—please. Thanks, Alex.’
She watched him walk away, and then turned back to find Owen regarding her seriously.
‘Did you know him—er—very well?’
She grinned ruefully. ‘Better than I should have done, and really not at all.’
‘I don’t understand——’
‘Neither did I.’
He shook his head slowly, then raised it again and looked searchingly at her, realisation dawning. ‘Was it him?’
‘Yes.’ She gave a sad little smile. ‘Don’t worry, Owen, I’ll be OK. Just—don’t say anything, please?’
‘Joanna!’
‘Don’t be offended. I just can’t afford to take the risk that he’ll find out.’
The older man covered her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. ‘He’ll find out nothing from me, my dear. About the job——’
Her smile slipped.
‘I want you to know I recommended you for it. I know we haven’t always agreed, but I think you’ll make a damn fine consultant one day. I’m just sorry that it couldn’t be now.’
Thank you, Owen. I’m glad you told me—you’ve taught me such a lot in the last four years.’
He grinned reluctantly. ‘I’ve learnt a lot from you, as well. You’ve been very interesting to work with——’
That’s not what you said about the aromatherapy!’
They laughed, a new warmth between them, and Jo felt a sharp twist of sorrow that her old mentor was moving on to pastures new.
‘I’ll miss you, you know. It’ll be strange without you.’
‘Carter’ll soon make his mark. I expect you’ll see some changes in the next few weeks.’
Jo was sure they would—and most of them in her blood-pressure!
‘Her cervix is very elongated so I’m going to do a Manchester repair,’ Jo explained to the theatre staff later that afternoon.
The patient was lying on the table with her feet suspended in stirrups, and as she settled herself on the stool ready to begin Jo was very conscious of Alex’s presence just behind her shoulder. In theatre boots she lost the advantage of her high heels, and he seemed to tower over her. In fact, of course, he was only about four inches taller than her at most, but, as she herself was five feet ten, she wasn’t used to many people being taller.
She had taken a hated disadvantage and turned it into a frank asset as she had matured and forged her career, but, as she swivelled round on the stool and tipped back her head to meet Alex’s eyes far above her, she was suddenly all the more aware of how big he was. He made her feel small and dainty and—dear God, now was not the time to think of how he made her feel!
It was a tricky repair and required all her concentration, and gradually she forgot about Alex’s presence behind her and focused on her patient.
At one point the heat of the theatre was almost overwhelming, and she could feel the moisture pooling in droplets on her brow and in the cleft between her breasts.
Before she could speak Alex’s hand appeared and swabbed her brow.
‘Better?’ he murmured, and she nodded.
‘Thank you. Right, I just want to attach these ligaments here and I can close her up. Can I have some sutures, please?’
As they left the operating theatre a short while later, he said quietly for her ears only, ‘Well done. That was a tricky one—you did it very neatly. I don’t think I could have done it better myself.’
She was warmed and yet irritated by his words of praise, and he was quick to pick up on it.
‘Have I patronised you?’
She gave a reluctant laugh. ‘Only a tiny bit.’
He smiled slightly. ‘About tonight——’
‘I can’t—even if I wanted to, I’ve promised to babysit for Anne Gabriel.’
‘I could bring a take-away and join you.’
‘I——’
For the life of her she couldn’t think of a single reason why he couldn’t, but all her senses were screaming ‘No!’. All except her treacherous heart.
‘You’ll have the children to chaperon you,’ he said reasonably.
‘Child. Beth. She’s six and a half.’
He waited patiently, while all the theatre staff milled around them, and she chewed her lip and doubted the intelligence she was born with.
‘I’m vegetarian,’ she warned him.
He shrugged. ‘I can live with that.’
Her heart thumped at the thought of living with this disturbing man.
‘OK. Meet me there at eight.’ She scribbled the address on a pad and ripped off the sheet. ‘Here. It’s easy to find—Reception will direct you; they’re hospital houses.’
‘Chinese or Indian?’
‘Either. I must go.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll see you later.’
As she went through to Recovery to check on her patients, she thought she must finally have lost her marbles.
Beth met her at the door, a bright-eyed, lively little girl with coltish limbs and a delicate face surrounded by thick dark brown tresses.
‘Hi, Auntie Jo!’
‘Hi, sweetheart. Is Mummy ready yet?’
‘Nearly. Come and see what I did at my babysitter’s today!’
Jo allowed herself to be dragged into the dingy little sitting-room at the back of the house and sat on the old sofa while Beth proudly showed her a mutilated piece of paper with coloured splodges on it. Stuck to the splodges were lumps of raw pasta.
‘It’s a pasta picture,’ Beth told her unnecessarily.
‘I can see that,’ Jo said. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘It’s meant to be ducks in the park. Mummy said it looked like a fight in an Italian restaurant. Sometimes she’s
