Doctor Knows Best (7 page)

Megan's heart beat with a loud uneven thud as she sat, mesmerised by the sensual movements of his fingers. Then slowly, so slowly, he pulled her towards him. Their lips met and fused in a moment of indescribable sweetness, his mouth clinging to hers for a magical moment before he drew his head back.

It seemed to Megan an eternity that he held her like that, his eyes looking searchingly into hers through the dim light of the car. Then his lips brushed the tip of her nose in farewell.

“Goodnight, Sister Jones,” he said. “Be good,” and with a deft flick of his wrist he opened the car door for her and Megan climbed out without a word.

Numbly she half raised her hand in a salute as he pulled away, but he didn't look back. Watching the red rearlights of the large car as it sped away into the darkness, Megan felt deflated and confused.

He had been so gentle, so tender… The expression on his face had led her almost to believe that he cared, but then suddenly it was as if it had been wiped off by some invisible hand. The expression that replaced it had been careful and guarded. Suddenly he had become the consultant again as he had formally said, “Goodnight, Sister Jones.”

Later that night, as she tossed and turned sleeplessly in bed, Megan realised that she had told him almost everything about herself, but that she still knew very little about him.

“Why don't you just tell me you are married and have done with it?” she said out loud, thumping the pillow viciously. “Why don't you just admit you want a brief flirtation with the little Sister in the casualty department, just to stop yourself from becoming too bored! And what if that is exactly what he does want?” she whispered to herself. “What are you going to do, my girl?”

She didn't really have to tell herself—she knew the answer. She was not the flirtatious type. She was…what was it he had said? Too choosy, yes, that was it. She smiled miserably to herself in the darkness of her room. A leopard can't change his spots, she thought, and neither can I.

Chapter Four

The weekend came and went in a flurry of last-minute activity concerning the revue, so many things needed to be done before the curtain went up. Megan found herself roped in for more and more jobs, finding an article for the props team, photocopying extra music for the orchestra, even down to hastily stitching costumes on the opening night.

“Thanks, Sis, you're a brick,” said Richard, dashing past as she sat huddled in a corner sewing and blowing her a kiss.

Megan glowered at him. “A brick, am I! Well, let me tell you that at the moment that is exactly what I feel like throwing at you. The amount of work you volunteered for me to do!”

Richard pulled a cheeky grimace and Megan smiled back. It was impossible to be cross with him for long, he had one of those sunny dispositions that charmed everyone. She guessed in the years to come he would have every patient eating out of his hand, and probably every nurse too!

Anyway, she didn't really mind all the extra work. She hadn't had a moment when she had been off duty to spare, so Giles Elliott had remained banished to the back of her mind, which suited her just fine. There was no time to dwell on the woman he called “darling” on the telephone, the one he couldn't wait to see at the weekend. Even during the day there hadn't been much time to think of him. The first really hard frosts of the year had arrived accompanied by a sprinkling of snow, and as usual Casualty had been inundated with minor fractures. At one point there had been seven patients with Colles' fractures waiting in Casualty. Thanks to a speedy anaesthetist using the bier block technique and the efficiency of Giles Elliott, they had all been dealt with and sent home by the afternoon.

Megan was always amazed that the bad weather invariably produced such an influx of accidents. If it was frosty she felt people ought to be expecting it to be slippery and to be extra careful but they never seemed to take any precautions. It was just the same in autumn when the first leaves fell. The number of motor cyclists who skidded on the leaves and had to be brought into hospital had to be seen to be believed! However, this time she almost welcomed the influx of patients—it gave her a breathing space, a time when she didn't have to think or worry about her emotions where Giles Elliott was concerned. The only things she had time to think about were the patients she was attending to, or the Christmas revue when she was off duty.

The revue, wittily called
Doctorpussy
,
opened and proved to be a great success. On the first night when she had to do her scantily clad routine Megan felt terribly embarrassed, but with the audience falling about in the aisles with laughter she soon lost her inhibitions and began to enjoy herself too. All too soon it came to Saturday, the last night of the revue.

The Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny, bitterly cold with a fresh layer of snow, and it was with reluctance that Megan hauled herself from her warm bed. It was the last chance she had of going into town before Christmas, and there was some last-minute shopping she just had to do. It's now or never she thought, wrapping her dressing-gown tightly around her and dashing into the bathroom opposite, getting across the draughty corridor as quickly as possible.

Once in town she trudged through the snow, in and out of the brightly lit stores. There seemed to be a million people there, and all with the same idea. The shops glittered and sparkled with Christmas decorations, the crowds shoved and jostled good-humouredly and the tune of “Jingle Bells” blared from every shop doorway.

Megan was heartily glad when she had made her last purchase and decided to treat herself to a well-earned coffee. She was making her way across a narrow side street towards a small coffee-shop when she noticed the young girl in front of her. The girl wasn't looking where she was going; she was walking along, her bright fair head bent, listening to music from the earphones clipped to her personal stereo.

Megan heard the motor cycle coming but the girl didn't, and nor did she see Megan waving her hand frantically. In panic Megan started to run, but the snow hadn't been cleared in the side street and it slowed her down. The motor cyclist braked, and then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Megan reached the girl and tried to pull her out of the path of the motor cyclist, but he followed them in an uncontrollable skid, dirty snow splaying out either side of his wheels as he desperately tried to stop.

Afterwards Megan couldn't remember exactly what had happened next, except that she found that both she and the motor cyclist were kneeling in the snow by the side of the girl. She had fallen and was lying with her parcels scattered around her and with one leg twisted beneath her.

“Are you all right?” Megan asked the motor cyclist quickly.

“Yes, I'm OK—the snow cushioned my fall. But what about her?” His face looked grim. “What shall we do?”

“Just help me,” said Megan firmly. “I'm a nurse. Everything will be all right, don't worry.” She looked at the girl who stared back at her, her bright blue eyes filled with pain and fear. “Don't be frightened,” said Megan gently, “Everything will be fine.”

“I'm OK,” said the girl, struggling to sit up, but as she did so she gave a little scream and fell back.

“I'm afraid you are not quite all right,” answered Megan. “I'm pretty certain you've broken your leg.” She turned quickly; by now a small crowd had gathered. “Can somebody please send for an ambulance right away?” she asked. Then she turned her attention back to the injured girl, reassuring her and making her as comfortable as possible in the circumstances.

The ambulance arrived on the scene and soon the patient was lying on the stretcher in the ambulance as it sped away towards the County General. Megan had to endure the police questioning as she was the principal witness, and had no alternative but to tell them that it had been entirely the fault of the nameless young woman.

“Thanks, miss, for your statement,” said one of the policemen finally. “We know where to find you if we need you again.”

By the time she actually got her very belated cup of coffee Megan felt she really needed it. She sat in the small Italian coffee-shop enjoying her
cappuccino
,
its frothy top sprinkled with grated chocolate, and idly wondered who the young woman was. She wondered too how many other cases had gone into Casualty to keep the staff busy, all because of a little extra snow—although in the case of the girl and the motor cyclist, the snow had actually prevented a much worse accident. Silly girl, thought Megan. Someone should have stopped her wearing earphones while she was walking along in the street, or at the very least she should have looked where she was going.

Reluctantly Megan set off through the cold wet snow again to make her way back to the hospital. Just time for a short rest and a bath, then the final night of the revue and the party that followed it.

That night there was much merriment backstage before the revue, but for some reason it made her feel depressed. She hadn't seen Giles Elliott to actually speak to for absolutely ages. She hadn't even seen him at the revue, which was surprising as most of the consultants came.

Megan was ready and waiting in the wings for the opening number when Jamie Green squeezed into his place beside her. He was doing the lights and worked them from a small control board jammed in at the side of the makeshift stage.

“Fancy that about Giles Elliott's daughter,” he said, fiddling about with his controls.

“About who?” asked an astounded Megan, hardly able to believe her ears. She had suspected that he was probably married, but even so, Jamie's words came as a terrible shock. A cold splinter of ice went through her heart.

“Yes,” whispered Jamie, quite unaware of the havoc he was wreaking on Megan. “She came into Casualty today, knocked down by a motor cyclist apparently. Got off very lightly though—a small fracture of the lower end of the fibula. About fifteen years old and quite an attractive creature too,” he added.

“Fair hair?” asked Megan, everything suddenly clicking into place. She had known those bright blue eyes reminded her of someone, and the facial characteristics too, now she thought about it.

“Yes,” replied Jamie, looking up in surprise. “How did you know?”

Megan didn't stop to enlighten him as she marched on with the rest of the cast for the opening number. The first sight that met her eyes as she galloped on stage was Giles Elliott sitting in the front row and by his side sat the young girl from the morning's incident, her leg conspicuous in its fresh white plaster.”

How she got through the opening number Megan just didn't know. Luckily for her she knew the routine backwards, which was just as well, she reflected later, because she felt so unnerved by the sight of him sitting in the front row that her brain refused to function.

While she was changing for her second sketch Megan mentally reprimanded herself. You knew he would probably come to the revue, she told herself. Be honest, you've been hoping he would come. Yes, but not with his daughter, her inner voice wailed in despair. Oh, be sensible, Megan told herself fiercely. You suspected he was married! You've wondered about it—well now you needn't wonder any more; now you know! He
is
married, and he has brought his daughter along to prove it…

There wasn't much more time to think before she was due on, this time in her scanty bikini to do the sketch with whichever consultant the boys at the front of house dragged up from the audience. She'd seen the Dean of the medical school also sitting in the front row and guessed it would be him; the students usually involved the Dean on the last night. So it was with surprised horror that she saw it was not the Dean, but Giles Elliott who was being dragged up on to the stage.

Her expression must have shown on her face although Megan thought she was doing a good job of disguising her feelings, for when he got near her Giles whispered, “
I'm
the one supposed to look horrified and reluctant, not you!”

“I…I thought it would be the Dean,” Megan whispered back.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” came the crisp aside.

The sketch commenced and Giles Elliott joined in with an enthusiasm that surprised and disconcerted Megan. All the week she had let her hair down and had enjoyed teasing the consultants, but not when the consultant was Giles Elliott. She felt shy and embarrassed, her cheeks were burning and she was sure her face must be the colour of a beetroot. Gritting her teeth she did the best she could and breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief when the sketch was over and she made her escape off stage.

Richard was waiting in the wings. “You were a bit off tonight, Sis,” he remarked. “I thought you would have given it all you've got on the last night.”

“I did the best I could—I'm not out to win an Oscar!” snapped Megan as she scurried past.

Richard raised his eyebrows in surprise at his sister's unusual display of bad temper. Megan, for her part, was sorry she had snapped at him, but her nerves were distinctly frayed at the edges to say the least. All the time the same words were constantly running through her mind, repeating over and over again with a monotonous insistence. He's married, he's married… Try as she might, she couldn't banish those words from her mind.

When the evening finally finished and the curtain went down on the revue for the last time, Megan would have given anything to have gone back to her flat and to have drowned her sorrows alone. But it was not to be; she was duty-bound to go to the after show party, but she determined not to stay too long.

With her face scrubbed of stage make-up and wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater, she was standing rather miserably in a corner with a glass of wine in her hand when Johnny Cox spied her.

He came zooming over in his usual enthusiastic way. “Say girl, what are you doing in this corner all by yourself? Where have you been all my life?”

“You know where I've been, Johnny,” erupted Megan irritably. She really didn't feel like coping with Johnny's extrovert behaviour at that point in time. Johnny, however, totally ignored the fact that her greeting was less than enthusiastic and propelled her vigorously across the room towards a group of people.

“Say, everyone, I have here one of the most ravishing nurses who appeared in the show tonight,” he announced to all and sundry. “Miss Megan Jones, tara!” He blew an imaginary trumpet fanfares with his hands and shoved Megan forward into the middle of the group.

Suddenly Megan was aware of the pristine white of new plaster again as she realised that sitting down in the midst of the group was Giles Elliott's daughter, and by her side was the man himself.

“Ah, Miss Jones,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling, “perhaps you would care to autograph my daughter's plaster?” He put his arm casually around his daughter's shoulders. “Joanna, can I introduce Megan Jones, Sister in Casualty.”

Joanna looked up and the same vivid blue eyes quizzed Megan. Then she smiled. “Daddy, we have already met. This is the girl I told you about, the one who looked after me when I had the accident.”

Giles looked at Megan. “Is this true?” he asked.

“Yes, it is,” replied Megan. “But of course, I didn't know then she was your daughter,” she added quickly.

“No,” he rapped. “If you
had
,
perhaps you wouldn't have told the police it was Joanna's fault.”

“I most certainly would have done,” replied Megan, her brown eyes flashing indignantly. “The fact that she is your daughter doesn't alter the fact that the motor cyclist was not to blame.”

“I really fail to understand how he hit her,” he said. “Surely he must have seen her? Are you certain you saw everything?”

Megan bristled. “Are you doubting my word?” she exclaimed angrily, forgetting where she was.

Joanna reached up and touched her father's arm. “Megan is quite right,” she said. Then she heaved a big sigh. “I might as well tell you, because you'll find out anyway sooner or later. I was wearing those earphones you hate so much and listening to pop music.”