A Medical Liaison. Sharon Kendrick

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СКАЧАТЬ href="#ulink_30aea3ff-db14-5dde-8395-479b4e71d260">CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

      ‘HELL’S bells!’

      Louisa jammed the brakes on just in time to see the scrawny black and white cat narrowly miss the front bumper. Now she knew why cats had nine lives! She watched as it tore off towards the main building before she restarted the engine.

      She eased the car into the nearest space, next to the notice which said ‘Hospital—Staff Only’, and reached up underneath the rather battered glove compartment to open the boot. The boot catch was released with a distinctive squeak and she smiled affectionately. She just seemed to go on forever, this little car. Left out on bitter frosty nights, she always started first time. Scrimped and saved for by Louisa as a student, time and again she had proved well worth the money she had cost.

      Louisa sat there for a moment or two in silence, just collecting her thoughts as she stared at the impressive structure of St Dunstan’s Hospital. It was an odd mishmash of buildings, many with monstrous time-blackened turrets. The main ward block was modern, though, its gleaming chrome and large plate-glass windows standing curiously at ease among its older counterparts.

      As she watched in the gathering dusk, lights began to be flicked on, and she saw nurses scurrying from bed to bed with cups of late afternoon tea, a white-coated figure taking a stethoscope from his pocket, and a porter slowly pushing a trolley up the ward.

      She sat very still, relishing her last few moments of anonymity—soon some of these people would be known to her—their foibles and their loyalties. She would be working alongside them, learning how this particular hospital did things. A new life, in a new hospital—far away from the tatters of her old one.

      She was about to open her door when she noticed a movement in her rear mirror and she looked up and frowned, for a particularly expensive-looking car was flicking its headlights on and off, almost blinding her with its over-impressive array of illuminations.

      She got out of her car slowly and turned towards the other vehicle, raising a rather resigned eyebrow. She couldn’t help it—she knew it was blind prejudice, but she despised such ostentatious displays of wealth.

      The driver was getting out—an impossibly tall man who she was surprised could fit into such a cramped little machine. And, on further examination, he didn’t look in the least like the usual sports car owner. His cords were unpressed and his thick sweater had clearly seen better days. He looked as though he would be more at home behind the wheel of a Land Rover, she thought, noticing that he was now staring at her impatiently.

      Returning his stare, she felt the jarring jolt of recognition—for she knew that craggy face, with its high cheekbones and narrow eyes. Yet she was positive that she had never met the man before in her life. Her memory was faultless—she would never have forgotten meeting someone like him, if not because of his looks then for his glowering expression alone!

      She shook her head a little—the long drive had affected her and now she was imagining things! The tall man in front of her was a complete stranger—of that she was certain.

      ‘That’s my space you’re parking in,’ he began, a frown creasing his forehead above dark brows.

      She sighed. Men were always so predictably proprietorial about parking. If they left their wretched cars in the same spot for two days running it mysteriously became ‘theirs’, and the more expensive the car, the more arrogant the owner. She gazed up at him sweetly.

      ‘Then I must either be blind or unobservant,’ she answered calmly. ‘Because I’m afraid I didn’t notice a sign next to it marked “Reserved”.’

      Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrows, the composure of her reply making him look at her properly, as if for the first time.

      She could see him taking in the pencil-slim grey skirt which just skimmed her knees, with its matching, rather severe jacket. The sombre colour of the suit provided a fitting backdrop for the living colour of her thick dark hair with its chestnut highlights which swirled in glorious waves around her shoulders. She couldn’t miss the brief flash of appreciation in his eyes, or the imperceptible change in his manner.

      ‘It isn’t actually reserved for me,’ he said grudgingly. ‘It’s just that I’ve kind of earmarked it for myself. You must be new here, or you probably would have noticed me using it before?’

      The implication being that anyone who knew him wouldn’t dare park in his spot, she thought with amusement. Well, he had picked the wrong person to challenge in her. If the last few years had taught her anything, it was that never again would she allow herself to be intimidated.

      ‘Yes, I’m new here,’ she agreed politely, pulling open the boot and removing her only suitcase.

      He appeared to be waiting for something.

      ‘Well? Aren’t you going to move it?’ he demanded.

      She opened her eyes very wide. ‘Don’t be so absurd! There are dozens of other places you can park in, and anyway—I can’t guarantee that my car will start again. It’s a very old car!’

      That was supposed to be a joke, she thought, as she met his unsmiling eyes. She wondered whose bed he’d got out the wrong side of that morning!

      He gave her a final glare before turning away, but at least she might as well get some directions out of him.

      ‘Excuse me,’ she called after him. ‘I’m looking for——’

      ‘The tall building directly to your left,’ he interrupted rudely.

      ‘Pardon?’

      ‘The Nurses’ Home.’ He pointed as he walked away. ‘It’s over there.’

      She almost laughed aloud as she locked the door, popping the key into a slim black leather clutchbag. She had long stopped being offended when people mistook her for a nurse, even if they did think that she was an unqualified one! It was a common enough mistake in an institution where seventy-five per cent of the females were indeed nurses. And perhaps it had something to do with her smallness, or the kittenish appeal of her looks, which made it hard for people to believe that she was not a nineteen-year-old nurse, but in fact a qualified doctor of almost twenty-five!

      She guessed that he was a doctor, too. He had the same kind of careless arrogance which she had encountered often enough among the male members of the profession. She had been reluctant to disclose that she was a member of the same profession, and see the speculative look change to one of wariness as he acknowledged an equal, rather than a subordinate.

      As she watched him disappear into the distance she decided to seek directions from someone else—someone with less of an axe to grind!

      She soon found a porter who insisted on carrying her suitcase to the Doctors’ Residence for her.

      Inside the building she took the lift to the fifth floor and peered at the numbers СКАЧАТЬ