LITMIR.BIZ

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come into my bed again, and that always makes me feel tired in the morning. You’d think he had eight legs the way he wriggles about. Anyway, you have enough things on your mind.’

      She began to gather up the breakfast dishes from the table. ‘The first day in your new job, you don’t want be thinking about us. You have your own problems to concentrate on. Anyway, you’ve done so much for us, as it is, just being here and helping out, and I know it hasn’t been easy for you, with everything being so cramped here. We’ll manage. I’m just glad that you were able to move up here to be near to us. It’s been a great comfort to me, just knowing that you are close by.’

      Megan squeezed her hand. ‘I’m glad about that—that’s why I’m here after all. And as to it being cramped here, we knew it wasn’t going to be easy with me moving in. It was never going to be for more than a few weeks, and it won’t be long before I find a place of my own.’

      Jenny’s face clouded, perhaps because she had mentioned moving out. Jenny had needed her, still needed her, and Megan wanted to do what she could to help. That was the main reason why she had left the Midlands and come to Wales—apart from wanting to get back to her roots.

      ‘I know things have been difficult for you lately, with Tom taking off suddenly, but I’m sure he’ll come back. He probably just needs time to himself to think things through. And in the meantime, I shall be here for you. Even when I move out, I’ll still be close by and I’ll be able to help you get through this. I’m here for a six-month placing at the hospital, and after that finishes, I’ll look for something local. Things will get better, you know.’

      ‘Maybe.’ Jenny tried a weak smile and then made an effort to pull herself together, starting to pile crockery into the sink.

      Megan blinked at the clatter and glanced at her watch. ‘Heavens, I must get a move on. I have no idea what this new boss is going to be like, but he won’t think very much of me if I arrive half an hour after everyone else.’

      ‘Good luck, Megan,’ Jenny said. ‘I hope everything goes well for you.’

      ‘Thanks.’ With a sudden quiver of uncertainty, she asked, ‘Do I look all right? Will I do?’

      Jenny gave her a swift, appraising look. ‘You look wonderful. I like your hair done up like that. I just wish I had your figure and your sense of style. Whatever you wear looks good on you, and I’ve always thought that colour suited you. It’s a lovely soft peach, and the skirt fits you like a glove.’

      Megan absently brushed a hand over her skirt. She hoped the length was about right. It just skimmed her knees, and she worried a little in case it showed off too much of her long legs. Still, she did feel good in this colour, it was gentle and cheerful, and the skirt, she thought, teamed well with the soft cashmere sweater.

      She pulled in a quick breath. ‘I’d better go.’

      She bent down to kiss Ben and received a jammy hug from Josh, and then she waved a quick goodbye to Jenny. ‘I’ll see you later. Give me a ring if you change your mind about lunch.’

      ‘I shan’t. I’ll take the children to the park. Off you go, and stop worrying about me. I’ll be just fine.’

      Megan doubted that, but she went out and started up her car. It was a ten-minute or so drive to the hospital in the centre of town, provided that there were no traffic problems.

      She tried to relax and drink in the scenery of rolling green hills and distant mountains along the way. Jenny lived in a pretty little fishing village fairly close to a small harbour, a peaceful and picturesque landscape that added to her feeling that it had been a good move, coming to work in this place.

      Megan arrived at the hospital a few minutes later and parked the car in the nearest available spot in the car park. Looking up at the sprawling red-brick building, she pulled in a deep breath to calm herself in preparation for the day ahead, then walked in through the main entrance.

      She had been here just once before, on the day of her interview, and now, as then, she was overwhelmed by the alarming wealth of passageways and the confusing maze of clinical buildings and wards and operating theatres and administrative offices. She floundered for a while, taking a couple of wrong turnings, before she finally found her way to the annexe where she was to be working for the next few months.

      The unit was housed on the third floor of the building, an impressively clean and bright part of the hospital where patients were welcomed into a room furnished cheerfully with attractively upholstered seating, and low tables filled with magazines and decorated with the occasional potted plant. There was a television in the corner of the room and one or two patients were watching an episode of a talk show as they waited to see a doctor. At the far side of the room there was a fish tank, carefully set out with coloured gravel, a diving bell and an assortment of rocks and green underwater ferns.

      She looked around her, wondering where to go next. A corridor led away from the waiting room, and there were half a dozen doors, which presumably opened up into surgeries along the way.

      ‘Are you new around here?’ A young man—DR WILL SANDERSON, REGISTRAR, she gathered from the label on his white coat—was looking at her quizzically. ‘I guess you’re not a patient, or you would have gone to Reception.’ He glanced over at the desk where nurses and clerks were talking amiably.

      ‘No, you’re quite right,’ she said. ‘I’m looking for Dr Sam Benedict’s room. I’m supposed to be at a meeting, but I got lost.’

      ‘Ah.’ Dr Sanderson smiled knowingly. ‘You must be one of the new members of his team. You’ll find him along the corridor, just straight ahead. You can’t miss it—his name’s on the door.’

      ‘Thank you.’ Megan gave him a grateful smile and sped along the corridor.

      Pausing to get herself together, she knocked briefly on the door and heard a murmured voice telling her to come in.

      Pushing open the door, she looked into the room. Four people were in there—three men and a woman—seated around a table. They all turned to look at her as she walked in, the woman, an attractive blonde, assessing her with cool green eyes.

      It was one of the men who held Megan’s attention, though. Even seated, as he was, she guessed that he would be tall. He was at least a head higher than the others, with broad shoulders outlined by the expensive cut of his grey suit. His jet-black hair was cut short to frame a face that was strong-boned, and his features were well defined, his nose straight, the jaw firm and his mouth pleasingly moulded.

      His glance flicked over her, taking in her appearance from head to toe.

      She couldn’t tell whether he approved or not. He said in a deep, gravelly voice, ‘You must be Dr Llewellyn.’

      Megan nodded, all too conscious of several pairs of eyes watching her. ‘That’s right. I’m so sorry that I’m late, but I got a little lost.’

      The slant of his mouth didn’t soften by a fraction. ‘I’m relieved that you managed to join us in the end.’

      He waved a hand to one side of the table. ‘Take a seat. We’ve already made a start, so I’ll update you when the meeting finishes.’

      She attempted a weak smile, but said nothing, fearful of disturbing the proceedings any further. She edged her way into the vacant chair.

      Dr Benedict continued as if there had been no disruption. ‘You will each have your own quota of patients,’ he told them, ‘and you will report back to me at some point during each day. If there are any queries that you want to raise at that time, just let me know and we’ll discuss any problems that you have.’

      ‘How will the patients be allocated?’ the blonde woman doctor enquired in a lilting voice. ‘Are we allowed to choose which ones will be on our list?’

      ‘To some extent,’ Dr Benedict agreed. ‘For the moment, though, I think it might work out for the best if you start with patients that I have chosen for you. After a week or so you’ll have some

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