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'Yet you seemed so sure that you were the one who'd done the damage.'

'I was—at the time. A case of putting two and two together and making thirteen. But, then, maths never was my strong point.'

'Is anything wrong, Yona?' Ted asked keenly.

'Not a thing, boss. Why?'

'You seem kind of uptight, that's all.'

'I can't think why,' she maintained.

Ted jumped to the wrong conclusion. 'Don't you let that telly man upset you, my girl,' he advised. 'You can do better than him.'

'If I thought I couldn't, I'd book into the convent right now,' she promised, raising a smile and easing the tension.

It was a very busy afternoon, now that Yona was seeing her own new patients as well as a fair share of the follow-ups. 'I think I'll take the gold,' said the first new one.

For a mad moment Yona thought she was referring to a medal, before she suggested, 'Supposing we start at the beginning, Mrs Trubshaw. I'm Dr MacFarlane, Professor Burnley's chief assistant. Please sit down and tell me all about it.'

'I've got bad arthritis and I want gold injections. None of those steroids for me, thank you. They only make you fat.'

Whatever she'd got, by observation alone she wasn't too seriously affected so Yona said soothingly, 'With a bit of luck, you'll not need either. We've got lots of other remedies up our sleeves which aren't nearly as drastic. Now, tell me your problems—from the beginning.'

Mrs Trubshaw took Yona at her word. 'Well, now, it all began one evening about four months ago. I'd just put on the kettle for my hot bottle—I don't hold with electric blankets, haven't had one in the house since my dad nearly set himself on fire with one. And then, all of a sudden...'

Yona had never heard anything like it. 'Just like A Book at Bedtime,' she told Ted and Charlie afterwards. 'Anyway, I'll know for sure when I get the lab reports, but I'm nearly sure she has a self-limiting non-specific arthritis of infective origin.' She paused. 'But I'm afraid the next two I saw will have to go on the waiting list. They're both on steroids already and both are going out of control.'

'Steroids are a double-edged sword,' sighed Ted. 'Well, that sounds like an ambulance arriving now, so on with the show, folks.'

Much to Sister Evans's annoyance, Yona had to admit her first follow-up patient. 'But that means I won't have a male bed for an emergency, Doctor!'

'This man is an emergency, Sister. He has chronic lumbar spondylolisthesis and now has marked weakness in both legs, with sensory changes as well.'

'Has the professor sanctioned this?' the sister queried.

'Of course,' answered Yona firmly, knowing that Ted certainly would, but she took the precaution of telling him before Sister could get at him.

'She'll be questioning my findings next,' he said crossly. 'I hope she doesn't give you a bad time while I'm in Lausanne.'

'Don't worry, Ted—you'll only be away two days. I reckon I can survive that.'

Next came another back—a case of severe and intractable pain. 'My doctor suggested I go to an osteopath,' said the man, 'but they cost money and my mate says there's a girl in Physio here who's magic. So how about it, Doc?.'

'Your mate is quite right, by all accounts,' said Yona, hiding a smile. 'Right! Let's see if you're a suitable case for manipulation, shall we?'

After that, it was pairs all the afternoon. The two backs were followed by two pairs of osteoarthritic knees—both with an occupational overlay. First an office cleaner and then a carpet layer. Yona referred all four to Physiotherapy and hoped the department wasn't overlooked already.

Yona was hardly in the flat that night before somebody came hammering on her door. Immediately she thought of Mike, but when she opened up it was to find Gil on the landing.

He was furious. 'I'm not used to being stood up,' he growled without any preamble.

'Yes—about that,' she said. 'I'm very sorry, but something came up. Anyway, we couldn't have gone, could we? Not in all that rain.'

His expression was telling her what he thought of that for an excuse. 'There are such things as contingency plans—which wouldn't have been necessary. The weather was fine in the Lakes.'

'You went anyway, then.'

'Of course—with a girl from casting. She's not as good as you to look at, but she's a lot more straightforward and obliging.' No prizes for guessing what he meant by that.

'Everybody happy, then,' called Yona as he stormed off. She was damned if he was getting the last word.

She'd been all steamed up to give Mike the dressing-down of his life. Now she had to wait. She couldn't settle, though, and prowled about the flat, rehearsing the phrases that would make him see how disgracefully he'd behaved. She had made a mistake that anybody might have made in that situation—and he had taken advantage of it to get her doing his bidding like a slave.

He'd been less than frank about his long-time girlfriend, too. Does he want us both dangling after him? she wondered. Well, you've picked the wrong one here, buster! With me, it's one to one or nothing.

But when he eventually rang her bell and she opened the door to see him standing there, so big and solid and desirable, she forgot all the cutting things she'd planned to say. 'Was there something?' she asked. It was the best she could do, and she only got that out with a lot of effort.

'Of course there is!' he answered roughly, shouldering his way in.

Yona shut the
door
and leaned against it. She needed some support.

But Mike stomped on to the living room and she had to follow. He had parked himself with his back to the side table where she'd placed his flowers and he said accusingly, 'You've been avoiding me today!'

So it was all her fault, was it? The injustice of it provided some of the stiffening Yona needed. 'I've been very busy today. I've also found out what a fool you've been making of me.' Not bad as far as it went, but hardly the telling-off she'd planned. What's come over me? she wondered.

'You're referring to this.' He slapped his plastered leg.

'What else?'

'I should have put you straight right away—and you must be wondering why I didn't.'

'I know why you didn't! It pleased you to—to humble me and make me dance attendance on you like some eastern slave girl!'

'Not at all. The fact is, I was so fascinated by the transformation from competent, hard-headed modern career-woman to—to an anxious, sweet, caring, warm and gentle girl that I wanted to keep you that way as long as possible.'

'Well, at least you're honest about it,' she allowed. 'But how very disappointed you must have been when I blew my top about your precious friend David.'

'I blame myself for that. I provoked you.'

It was difficult to go on being mad at a man who came up with such reasonable answers. 'Yes, you did—and I'm not going to deny that. All the same, you should have told me sooner how you injured your foot—yesterday morning, for instance.'

'Would we have had the wonderful day we did if I had?' She had to admit he was right there. 'And I was trying to tell you last night when Fran came hammering on your door.'

'Yes, about your old friend Fran! You've not been quite honest about her, have you?'

'Now why do you think that?'

'Let me put it this way. I've got a few dear old friends of my own—but I wouldn't spoil a date for any one of them because my father had broken his leg.'

'Put it like that, and her behaviour does seem extreme— only that's not how it is. Fran's father is as much my friend as she is. More so, really—I'm under a great obligation to him.'

'I see,' Yona said coolly.

'I doubt it,' he said, sensing her disbelief. 'Dr Melling was my father's best friend and after Dad died he helped me through medical school by every possible means, including a loan. As for Fran...well, she was just always around. And, believe me, that is all!'

Perhaps it was—as far as he was concerned—but it was plain to anybody with eyes in her head that Fran adored him. 'If you say so,' she said, willing to leave it there for now.

'I do—and now we've settled that, how about something to eat? Or have you had supper?'

'No, somehow I've not got round to it...'

'Good. There's a very nice little bistro just across the road so long as you don't mind being seen out with a cripple.'

'What's wrong with the original cover story? If anybody asks, you're my victim and I'm doing penance,' she suggested, turning away to fetch a jacket and missing his look of disappointment.

The bistro was barely half-full. 'It's always the same on Mondays,' Mike told her. 'But at weekends it's necessary to book.'

'Yes, I'd gathered that you're a regular here,' remarked Yona. The patron had greeted Mike by name, before showing them to a corner table well away from the doors and draughts.

'Me—and half the occupants of Park View,' he went on. 'Pierre says he's thinking of renaming the place the Park View Diner. What do you fancy?'

'To eat or as a name for the place?'

'Sharp as a needle,' he said with gratifying admiration.

'A woman in our line of business needs a ready tongue,' she retorted, but she was sorry that they seemed to be off
on the same old track before the evening was half an hour old.

'We're not at work now,' he reminded her.

'Neither we are,' she agreed, 'but, work or play, what you see is what you get.' That was her way of telling him she wasn't going to pretend to be anything she wasn't just in order to please him and fit in with his idea of the perfect woman.

'You're utterly honest, aren't you?' he asked. 'I like that.'

They chose the same food—potato and leek soup, with a Normandy peasant dish of lamb and vegetables to follow. 'Leave out the herbs and the butter and the garlic and you've got scouse,' said Mike.

Yona had never heard of scouse, but she supposed that it must be very bland without those additions.

'It is, but generations of Liverpudlians grew up on it. Hence their nickname—Scousers.'

'How come a Salcestrian knows that?'

'My father came from Liverpool and went to school and university there. Then he came to Salchester and met my mother.'

Why does that bitter note creep into his voice whenever he mentions his mother? wondered Yona.

'He was a schoolmaster at an inner city comprehensive,' Mike ended on a note of defiance.

'Then he must have been a good and remarkable man,' she said.

'He was, but how would you know?' he asked keenly.

'Because it's so difficult to teach in such schools.'

'It is, but—'

'How would I know? Because my brother tried it until his health cracked under the strain. He's a Church of Scotland minister now.'

'Why didn't he do medicine?' asked Mike.

'Because he didn't want to,' she answered simply.

'Your father must have been very disappointed.'

'I rather think he was, but, then, he'd always said he'd never pressure either of us into jobs we didn't want or weren't suited to.'

'Then your father is a remarkable man too, Yona.'

'Naturally, I think so.' This exchange of backgrounds was all very well, but Yona hadn't been satisfied by his explanation about Fran. How could she bring the conversation round to her again without seeming too obvious?

'Thanks, but I don't think I could manage a pudding,' she said when the waiter removed their plates and hovered expectantly. 'But don't let that stop you, Mike.'

'It won't,' he said. 'I'm going for cheese, though—and coffee, of course.'

'What would we doctors do without our regular shots of caffeine?' she asked, still wondering how to bring the conversation back to her rival—as she thought of Fran.

'Go to sleep when we ought to be awake,' returned Mike. 'Are you sure you don't want anything else?'

'I wouldn't mind trying a morsel of your Camembert. It looks just right.'

'Anything to oblige the girl I'm trying to impress,' he said, before putting some on a fragment of biscuit for her. Just as he was reaching across to pop it into her mouth, a young couple stopped by their table, looking curious.

'So here you are, Mike,' said the woman, but her eyes were on Yona.

Mike looked up. 'Hello, you two,' he said easily. 'I don't think you've met Yona MacFarlane, have you? Yona—my friends and next-door neighbours, Angie and Simon Bertram.'

'You'll be the doctor Fran was telling us about,' said Angie flatly as she and her husband sat at their table without being invited.

Yona decided it would be interesting to hear how Mike dealt with that.

'That's right. Yona is the new registrar on Rheumatology at the Royal.' That was how.

'Isn't that the job that was promised to David Lewis?' Angie asked, her cool glance still on Yona. Yona felt she could easily dislike this woman, but again she left it to Mike to explain.

'I don't think there were any promises made, but he certainly hoped to get it,' he said.

'And now they've got to move all that way down to South Wales and poor Sybil so unwell!'

By then Yona had had enough of Angie's tactlessness and she decided it was time to have her say. 'What a pity I didn't know all this before I came,' she said. 'Then
I
could have applied for the Cardiff job instead—and everybody would have been happy. After all, it made no difference to me where I went—as long as I got promotion.'

'Quite,' agreed Angie, while Simon buried his red face in the menu and Mike looked distinctly put out.

'You know Gil Salvesen, don't you?' Angie's next barb.

'We live on the same landing,' returned Yona, determined not to show her irritation. 'One generally does know one's neighbours, don't you find? Whether one wishes to or not.'

Simon gave Yona a glance of respect for that and Mike smothered a smile. 'We're way ahead of you two,' he said, 'so I'm sure you'll excuse us if we leave you to it. Incidentally, the lamb is particularly good tonight.'

He got to his feet, helped Yona into her jacket and they all said goodnight. Yona could feel at least one pair of hostile eyes boring into her back as they crossed the room.