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The question was perfectly normal
and
natural between them, but Adam felt that his secret had been laid bare.

'Just the same,' he said briefly.

'Does the sister do any nursing?'

Adam tensed. 'No. She refuses on her sister's account.' He betrayed his feelings as he added almost harshly, 'Such a waste.'

Hugh Wellings metaphorically raised his eyebrows. There had been passion in the words. He came to the conclusion that Adam was not his usual predictable self. But it was obvious that he was roused by the mention of the two sisters, and the fact intrigued him. He left a few minutes later, finding that Adam's parting words of goodwill about the forthcoming holiday had a hollow ring.

'I'll look after your Ascot patient,' Adam promised. His voice was composed. These days he was thankful to be on professional ground and had the uncanny feeling that Hugh had not been unaware of his emotional reaction to Emma's work. He found himself railing more strongly than ever against the fact that, but for Irene, Emma and he would be working together. He told himself that it was not self-deception that made him so sure. A sigh escaped him as he sat at his desk. Miracles might happen. Now there was a truce, Emma might even view the case from a broader base and realise that it would be in Irene's interest to be thrown back a little more on her own resources. That being so, wasn't it within the realms of possibility that Emma might contact him and agree to taking a job for him? Even the idea raised his spirits. Why sink into gloom? They were two free people and he decided that he would find some way to fight for her and not meekly settle for a situation that was, in truth, stalemate.

Emma's nerves were tense as she prepared to go to Ascot. Irene hovered as she packed her case, sighing deeply and looking forlorn. Marion, coming in on the Sunday morning as Emma was leaving in the afternoon, behaved normally and avoided any suggestion of drama.

'You'll have time off,' Irene said when the final moment of parting came.

'Let me get there first,' Emma suggested, forcing a laugh.

'And you'll telephone?' It was an anxious, breathless sound.

Emma prayed that Irene would not cry.

'Yes, but don't expect to hear at any given time.' She added, and felt a little desperate, 'I shall be working, not on
holiday.'

It struck Marion that to work would represent a holiday to Emma, and be just the break she badly needed, for she was looking pale and far from her old vivacious self.

Even as Emma spoke she felt slight guilt at her eagerness to get away and prayed that there would not be any last-minute drama, but Irene clung to her, crying, 'I wish you wouldn't go. Why do you have to ?'

She stopped, warned by the firmness of Emma's expression and realising that nothing could possibly change at the eleventh hour. 'I can send for Dr Bryant if I don't feel well,' she hastened disjointedly.

Marion said immediately, 'You're going to be fine— help Emma this time, instead of her always helping you.' The words came out spontaneously and with significance.

Emma's heartbeat quickened with anxiety, but she
managed to plant a quick kiss on Irene's cheek, nod to Marion and go out of the front door almost at a run. Once there, she told herself, she was safe. But almost immediately, Irene was standing in the large window which gave a view of the road. She held a handkerchief to her face.

Emma got into her car and waved as she drove away. It was, she thought, like deserting a child. Uncertainty stabbed, but she fought against the weakness and increased her speed. The thought of Adam cut across the scene. His reactions, she thought with a quickening of her pulse, would be interesting. A hollow emptiness settled in her stomach. She was unlikely to see him again and the weeks ahead seemed suddenly interminable for that reason.

She found Fairways without any trouble. It was a gabled house standing back from a tree-lined clearing and with a walled garden of two acres. The scene was peaceful, and as Emma turned into the short drive she was conscious of a certain welcoming atmosphere.

Mrs Baines, the housekeeper, a friendly figure with a round, faintly flushed face, said, 'You'll be Nurse Sinclair.' The voice had a pleasant Scottish intonation rather than an accent. It was a statement of friendly acceptance suggesting future harmony.

Emma smiled. 'Yes.' She indicated the car, noticing a double garage nearby. Flowerbeds and masses of roses clustered around the front of the house and Emma felt a little thrill of pleasure, appreciating its beauty. She put the car away and went into the oak-panelled hall, from which the staircase swept in a half-circle to a visible landing above.

A voice called out from a nearby room, the door of which was open. It was a weak voice, but there was a note of eagerness in the words, ,'Come in, Nurse Sinclair.'

Mrs Baines crossed the hall with Emma and stood aside.

'I'm Grace Hayes,' said a figure from the depths of a well-upholstered sofa with ample cushions.

Emma took the hand extended and felt a wave of relief. There was something appealing about this sixtyish woman, with her general pallor and lemon-tinged skin. The eyes were china-blue. There was an air of lassitude and breathlessness about her, typical of the disease.

Emma, with one swift glance around her, had an impression of bright pinky-mauve chintzes and antique mahogany furniture, with silver shining from a cabinet. Deep armchairs were set against large terrace windows overlooking smooth lawns and borders of old-fashioned flowers massed against surrounding trees, with a giant cedar holding pride of place.

'I'm happy to be here,' Emma said informally, rightly judging the atmosphere.

'I need someone,' came the half-apologetic confession. 'The agency is very good. When my dear helper goes on holiday, or my husband is away, as now, they come to the rescue.' She made a little appealing gesture. 'As you know, with this wretched thing, I'm weak and my limbs lose power, so that I have difficulty walking.' She gave a little laugh. 'In fact I really need a
keeper!'

Emma was familiar with pernicious anaemia, the classical variety being due to a lack of the substance called Intrinsic Factor. Gastrointestinal symptoms, weight loss and possibly an enlarged spleen. Sometimes, Emma reminded herself, there were mental disturbances such as memory failure and confused states. She could appreciate that her patient needed general care and could imagine her being a rewarding case. And suddenly the thought of Adam became so vivid as to be visual. She could telephone him and tell him where she was: it would seem to be a valid reason for such contact and she found herself wishing she had done so before. A truce, after all, embraced privileges. Ridiculous to get depressed because he had not got in touch with her. He was not free to visit, with Irene always at home.

Emma appreciated Grace Hayes' attempt at humour and the atmosphere she tried to create that held a light-hearted note. 'I love your outfit,' she went on swiftly, taking in Emma's cornflower-blue button-through dress with its wide white belt, 'It emphasises your perfect figure.' She stroked one almost-transparent hand over the other as she talked, twisting a beautiful engagement ring. 'I'm so thin it's positively revolting.' She paused and looked thoughtful, and then went on as though it were important to put Emma immediately in the picture, 'But despite everything, I'm a very lucky woman. My husband, Robert, is wonderful. My complaint has not changed us and he still brings me the first red rose from the garden.' She paused self-consciously. 'But you've hardly got here and I'm already on my hobby-horse.' She added with a smile, 'You'd like to go to your room and settle in.' She indicated a door in the opposite wall. 'Through there you'll find a little flat my husband had added, so that we have a double bedroom, bathroom and nurse's room with bath
en suite.'
She added regretfully, 'I can't go upstairs.' She rushed on, 'Robert has a bedroom up there if it is necessary for me to be alone. You won't find it a dreary place to work in, Nurse. I don't like gloom.'

Emma found her room, which was spacious and overlooked the drive. A thrill went over her as she contemplated the weeks ahead. She was sure Grace Hayes would be a very pleasant, obviously communicative patient and she could imagine wheeling her out into the garden, the case being easy and rewarding. She hurried on by telling herself that Irene would settle down now that she had gone, and a little of the nervous tension lessened.

When Tuesday arrived, having been told that the doctor was expected, Emma kept Grace Hayes in bed.

'There was something Dr Wellings said about this Tuesday,' Grace Hayes said, puckering her brows, 'but I can't remember. . .my memory is so uncertain,' she said regretfully. 'But I know Tuesday is right. . . That's the car in the drive now,' she hastened. 'Go out and meet him.'

Emma smoothed the fine linen sheet which Grace Hayes liked, as well as her peach silk duvet.

'I've heard of Dr Wellings, of course, but never met him,' Emma said, and went out, shutting the door. And as she reached the sitting-room, Mrs Baines was just showing Adam in. Seeing Emma, Mrs Baines tactfully withdrew.

Adam stood there staring at Emma in utter disbelief.

'
You!
' he exclaimed. 'What are you doing here?'

'Nursing Mrs Hayes,' Emma said, waiting for his approval.

But Adam turned on her, passion, desire and anger exploding within him as he said on the attack, 'I ask you to take a case for me and you refuse; and after all you've said about not working because of Irene, you come
here
.' His gaze held hers, his eyes dark and accusing. 'Your opinion of me must be very poor.' He added stormily, 'But at least now I know where I stand!'

In that
moment the truce ended and Emma felt ill. On reflection, his reaction was valid and she had overlooked that angle. Colour mounted in her cheeks and his anger stimulated her defence. 'You would have booked up that case.'

He gave her a cynical look. 'I have more than one case. . .you don't need to make excuses. It is all too obvious.' His attitude was dismissive, his voice hard, his gaze unnerving. She knew wretchedly that she had never loved him so passionately, or desired him more. He stood there, challenging, attractive, as the last frail thread of their relationship was smashed.

In turn, Adam fought against the hunger within him. Of what use was deluding himself that she would ever reciprocate his feelings? A perfect opportunity had been offered for them to work together and she had made Irene the excuse to forgo it, only to take this case a short while afterwards. As he had already stated, he now knew where he stood. This was the finish.

They stood there uncertainly for a second before he said brusquely, 'If you would take me to my patient?'

Emma didn't deceive herself. This was dismissal, and she was left bleak and miserable as she led the way to the bedroom.

Grace Hayes took an instant liking to Adam, who greeted her with a friendly concern, inspiring confidence.

'Dr Templar!' She echoed the name as though she ought to know it and went on, 'Of
course!
That was what it was about Tuesday!' She looked apologetic.

'Dr Wellings said he would be away and that a friend of his would call . . . I get confused and my memory is so bad. . .it makes one feel so foolish.'

Adam gave her a reassuring smile of encouragement. 'I'm sure you do splendidly.'

Emma was aware of Adam's gentleness as he took his patient's temperature, pulse and blood-pressure, finally giving her an injection of vitamin B12. He had the knack of saying just the right thing, his manner perfect.

Nevertheless he found it a form of sweet torture to have Emma beside him, ready to minister to his needs, working with him. This was how it should be. The thought stabbed again: how little interest she must have in him, to prefer an agency case to one of his, and what a fool he was to think he could ever win her love.

'Nurse is wonderful,' Grace Hayes said spontaneously. 'I'm very lucky, despite everything.' Subconsciously she took in the details of the pink and white bedroom which had a friendly elegance for which she was responsible and, in that moment, she valued the setting in which she was fortunate enough to live, as well as the people around her. She looked from face to face. 'May I ask if you often work together?'

Adam's gaze went to Emma's as passion mounted between them, leaving them vulnerable and conscious only of each other, but his voice was precise as he replied, 'No. This meeting is fortuitous.'

Grace Hayes thought that a pity. They made an attractive couple who had already admitted knowing each other, but it struck her that there was tension behind their professional calm.

Thoughts flashed through Emma's mind that she would be able to speak to Adam as he left, but, to her dismay, when he had stayed just the right length of time, he positioned himself near the door and said with swift dismissal, 'I'll see myself out.' And having already said goodbye and reassured his patient that he would be available at any time, he was gone.

Grace Hayes smiled knowingly. 'I can imagine him setting hearts fluttering,' she said significantly.

Emma tried to keep her voice impersonal as she commented, 'He's a very popular doctor.' And in that moment it seemed that he had taken her world with him.

Just then the telephone rang, the instrument on a bedside table.

Grace Hayes answered it, then, 'Nurse Sinclair. . . yes, of course. Who's speaking?'

Emma listened, tensed, as she took the receiver and Grace Hayes murmured, 'Your sister.'

Irene was on the verge of tears. She'd expected Emma to telephone that morning and she wasn't feeling well.

Emma was firm. She would be having a half-day on Thursday. She also reminded Irene that she had told her not to ring.

Irene, crying now, begged Emma to come home to see her that evening, even if only for a little while.

'That,' Emma said, 'is impossible.
Please,
Irene.' She felt desperate. The week had gone smoothly and she had telephoned Irene every evening.