‘Are you OK, or are you lost?’ a voice enquired.
Oh, no. She knew that look. What’s she doing in a car like that if she can’t drive it? Every time she’d driven Seb’s car, she’d had the same reaction—men either scoffed or made sure they overtook her.
On the other hand…maybe this might be the lucky break she needed. She smiled sweetly and put on her best fluffy-and-feminine voice. ‘I know it’s terribly feeble of me, but it’s not actually my car. And I’ve always been so hopeless at parking.’ She fiddled with her hair. ‘And that space is so tiny!’
He looked at her in seeming disbelief, then at the space. ‘It is a bit tight,’ he allowed.
She batted her eyelashes at him. ‘I know it’s a terrible imposition, but would you be kind enough to…?’ Hopefully the chance to get behind the wheel of a vintage MG Roadster would be enough to make him say yes.
It was. ‘Sure.’
Gratefully, she grabbed her handbag and hopped out of the car. And watched him park the damned thing in one fluid movement. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy. Why couldn’t she do it? But she never had been able to park cars. Not since the day she’d passed her driving test, borrowed her mother’s car and scraped it in the car park. Her father had gone bananas. Ever since then Miranda would rather have abseiled blindfolded down the Angel of the North, the huge sculpture just outside Newcastle, than park a car.
‘Thank you,’ she said as he handed her the car keys. ‘I really do appreciate it.’
‘No problem. Are you here to visit someone?’
You could say that, Miranda thought. She smiled at him. ‘Mmm.’
‘The hospital entrance is over there—if you ask at Reception, they’ll direct you to the ward you need,’ he told her kindly, pointing to the large domed building across the other side of the car park. ‘And you’ll need a ticket—they’re pretty hot on fines.’
Now she felt horrible. He wasn’t a chauvinist pig at all. He was a nice bloke who’d helped her out of a mess. A nice bloke with a gorgeous smile and…
Stop right there, she told herself crossly. She’d probably never see him again. The way her day was going, she wouldn’t be in the North East again for a very long time, let alone Calderford. And she wasn’t in the market for a man in any case. Since Rupert, she didn’t do serious relationships. ‘Thanks for the warning,’ she said lightly.
She didn’t really have time to get a ticket. But then again, she wasn’t going to get the job so it didn’t really matter if she was late for her interview. She was lucky she’d even got this far. Because no way would Ralph Turner, clinical director and head of paediatrics, let his only child get a consultant’s post in the cardiology department. Not in his hospital.
With a rueful smile, she headed for the ticket machine.
‘I REALLY don’t know why we all have to sit here, waiting for her,’ Jack said, his mouth compressed into a tight line. ‘I’ve got a ward round to do. And I want to check on Imogen Parker.’
‘It’s Miss Turner’s first day and she’s called a meeting of all the coronary care unit staff,’ Leila Ward, the senior sister, reminded him. ‘Obviously she wants to introduce herself and meet the team.’
‘Yeah. If she turns up on time.’
Leila patted his hand. ‘Don’t be such a grouch. I know you’re disappointed you didn’t get the job, but give her a chance.’
‘Right.’ Jack rolled his eyes. ‘But remember who we’re talking about. Her dad’s the clinical director of Calderford General.’
‘She might be nice. She might be extremely competent. She might be better than you,’ Leila pointed out. ‘Which might be why she got the consultant’s job.’
‘“Might” being the operative word.’ Jack sighed at the look on his colleague’s face. ‘OK, OK, I’ll give her a chance. But if she’s late or incompetent, or it turns out to be a case of a job for the boss’s daughter, don’t expect me to keep my mouth shut.’
‘It might help if you start with it closed,’ Leila whispered as the new consultant walked in and Jack’s jaw dropped.
It was her. The girl with the sports car. The girl who couldn’t park.
Ms Fluffy.
Except…she didn’t look in the slightest bit fluffy this time. She was wearing a business suit, albeit with a short skirt; that glorious dark hair was pulled back severely at the nape of her neck; and she was wearing oval glasses with narrow metal frames. If she was wearing any makeup at all, it was so understated that it was barely there. She looked serious and studious—and competent.
Or maybe she was Ms Fluffy’s sister. No way could someone change their image just like that! When she glanced quickly round the room, she didn’t give the slightest indication that she recognised anyone—and surely she would have remembered him as the person who’d got her out of a fix in the car park the other week?
His mouth compressed further. Or maybe she was just so used to people doing what she wanted that she hadn’t given him a second’s further thought. Not that it should bother him. He wasn’t interested in Miranda Turner anyway.
Of all the people, in all the hospital, Miranda thought, her knight in shining armour would have to work on her ward! Which meant that she was going to have to play this very, very carefully.
No. She was just going to be honest. She’d leave the games to her father.
She took a deep breath, psyching herself up for the speech she knew she had to make. ‘Good morning, everyone. Thanks for making it—and I promise not to keep you long. I just wanted to introduce myself properly. I’m Miranda Turner, and I’m delighted to be joining you here at Calderford General.’ She smiled. This was the nasty bit. ‘You’ve probably guessed by now that Ralph Turner is my father. Believe me, being interviewed by someone who knows all the most embarrassing things about you is a nightmare! Luckily, he couldn’t vote on my appointment because of the family connection.’ Hopefully that would squash any rumours that she’d only got the job because of who she was, not what she could do.
She smiled again. ‘I’ve already met one of you, though I didn’t know it at the time.’ She gestured to her champion. ‘He rescued me in the car park when I realised I’d left my shoehorn at home and couldn’t get the car into the smallest space in the world.’
To her relief, one or two of them actually laughed.
‘I can assure you, I’m a much better doctor than I am a driver. I’m really looking forward to working with you—and I’d like to invite everyone on the ward for a drink on Friday night in the Calderford Arms at seven, so I can start getting to know you better. In the meantime, I’ve restocked the biscuit and coffee supplies in the kitchen.’ She glanced round again. No overt hostility—except from her rescuer. His face was expressionless but his eyes definitely weren’t friendly.
‘Some
