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"I'll see if I can fit some of them in while you're away."

"Oh, no, Jim, I wasn't hinting at that at all." She was instantly contrite. "You've got more than enough of your own to do without taking on any of mine as well."

"I might conceivably manage a few more." Jim's smile was indulgent. "Meantime, you'd better hurry if you don't want to keep the boss waiting."

*

At five minutes to two she was in the car park. Now that she had got used to the idea, the ploy began to feel like an adventure. She put a hand to her hair against the fresh wind. She tried to tell herself that it was the prospect of those wealthy patients which had occasioned the wearing of her new blue suit - the one which exactly matched the colour of her eyes - but it didn't work.

Sir Charles came out on to the front steps of the staff block. He lingered for a few moments giving last-minute instructions to Jim, then turned and walked lamely towards her. Even she couldn't fool herself that the thrill of anticipation had anything to do with being driven for the first time in a new BMW coupe.

After introducing her to his patients he left her at work in the sideroom of Greylands. When he returned at six o'clock she had the blood estimates ready for him.

"You seem to have scored quite a hit with my patients." He was in lighthearted mood when they got back into his car. "I wonder if you would mind waiting for a few more minutes, Miss Leigh. I have to call at my consulting rooms before returning you to Fenham." He drove out into the Sauchiehall Street traffic. "It shouldn't take long."

"I could easily catch a bus," she said tentatively.

"I wouldn't dream of it. Come to think of it, you'll miss a meal as it is. When did you last eat?"

Lesley hesitated. Now that she considered, it had been rather a long time. Fitting in a couple of tests, looking out the
suit and changing, there hadn't been much time at lunchtime for mundane things like eating.

"Your face gives you away." He tut-tutted. "I'll wager you haven't had a bite since breakfast."

"Does it show?" She smiled wryly.

"Simple matter of deduction." He swung round into Woodside Terrace. "You didn't put in an appearance at lunchtime."

"I didn't think anyone would notice."

"You underrate your powers for attracting attention." He was teasing her again. "I can't have my staff neglecting themselves like this. You'd better have dinner with me before getting back."

He was so matter-of-fact about it that Lesley instinctively refused. "There's no need, really there isn't. Mrs. Frazer will leave something in the oven for me."

"Do you automatically reject every invitation like that?" She could sense rather than see the uplifted eyebrow. "I suppose you get plenty of practice - it's become almost a conditioned reflex by now."

"Sir?"

He drew into the kerb. "That's the second time today you've turned down one of mine." He was smiling.

"Sorry," she grinned.

"I'm the one who should apologise. It was badly phrased." He stopped his engine and turned to her. "Miss Leigh, will you have dinner with me?"

She smiled back and this time said, "Thank you. I'd love to."

It was later when they'd dined and had reached the coffee stage in the little room downstairs at the Rogano that he almost spoiled it. She had just started to say how much she'd enjoyed the evening when he interrupted her.

"Let's say I'm trying to make amends for Sunday."

"Sunday?" She was crestfallen.

"I was rather tough with you."

"No, you weren't." There was no conviction in her voice.

He laughed. "You see? You agree with me, and you're quite right. I was too severe. You did very well with Miss Twill. I should have said so."

There was a moment's silence. Lesley couldn't have spoken if she'd wanted to. His anger had been difficult to take: retraction and apology were almost too much.

"You must make allowances for me too, Miss Leigh." He went on stirring his coffee. "One gets into the habit of dealing with bright young men. It's virtually impossible to shake their implacable faith in themselves. I have to preserve a balance between encouraging them and ensuring that they don't rush their fences before they are ready to take them.""

"You make it sound like training horses."

"I suppose in a way I do." He smiled crookedly. "There is a certain resemblance to high-spirited stallions resenting the discipline of the bit." He gave her a curious look. "Somehow I don't think that would be your greatest temptation. Unfortunately, I have rather less experience with bright young women." He looked up. "But I think I'm beginning to learn a little about one of them" - He paused.

"Yes?" This might be embarrassing, but she had to know.

"In spite of your brilliant record - I get the feeling sometimes that it's never quite registered with you. You have big ambitions and you work steadily towards them. You face up to setbacks, yet," he spoke slowly as though choosing his words with care, "paradoxically, you've got a strange core of uncertainty. Am I being unkind?"

She shook her head. Curiously, she didn't resent his analysis at all.

"Take Sunday, for example. A mild rocket like that would have slid off Graham completely. He'd have recognised what was intended. Oh, he would have been a bit more cautious as a result. He'd have taken good care not to make the same mistake again - but he wouldn't have lost any sleep over it. I'm willing to bet that wasn't true for you. Why?" The look he gave her was almost clinical.

"I don't quite know." She toyed with the knife at her plate. "Jim's got a theory that it's something to do with being an only child." She smiled ruefully at him. "He says I'm not well equipped for the hurly-burly of personal relationships."

"He's an authority on the subject of Lesley Leigh, is he?" She couldn't be sure if he was teasing her again.

"I suppose in a. way he is." She found herself telling him all about Jim, the death of her parents, about her aunt at Fairlie, and the struggle she had had to get her chance to do medicine. Half an hour ago it would have seemed incredible, but now that she had started it seemed perfectly natural to be pouring it all out to him - even about the medical auxiliaries and the coolness since the incident with the bathroom door.

When she had finished there was a curious expression in his eyes, one she had never seen before. It made her feel suddenly shy. "I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't be boring you with silly details like this."

"On the contrary," he went on studying her closely, "it's rather refreshing. When you get to my age there are so many things people don't want to bore you with. A chief's kept in the dark a great deal of the time."

She sensed an unspoken query in the last remark, but although she had talked freely about some of her difficulties it would not have crossed her mind to mention the greatest of all.

There was something about the penetrating grey eyes which disturbed her now. The moment lengthened. She was sure that in the silence he would hear her heart beat.

Then, out of the blue, and seemingly unrelated to anything they had been discussing, he leaned forward and said gravely, "Don't let anyone ever rob you of your enthusiasm, Miss Leigh." He put a hand over hers for a second. "That's one of the worst things that one person can do to another."

She swallowed. "You must think me awfully green," she said to cover her confusion.

"Not that." There was a wistful note in his voice. "Very young and very vulnerable - but not green." He rose. "Shall we go now?"

It took about thirty minutes to reach Fenham. In retrospect she was to try to reconstruct every detail of the evening, but although the conversation stayed etched in her memory, the journey back was only a warm blur.

Even at the time she knew it was a mirage, but a bit of her wished it could have gone on for ever.

"Giving you dinner was the least he could do. After all, you'd already turned down the money." Unwittingly Jim pricked the bubble of the daydream.

"Blackleg labour, that's what it is. Whoever heard of anyone refusing to take loot?" Sandy appealed to the sitting-room at large. "I've said it before and I'll say it again - women don't know how to stick to the rules."

"Personally, I've always thought they played to a set of their own." As usual Pete was ensconced in the deepest armchair.

"Anyway, he even took me to the Rogano last week." Jim dealt the death blow to the crumbling illusion. "I'll bet I can tell you what you had to eat - dressed crab, because 'it's a speciality of the house'."

"Actually, it was lobster Thermidor."

The boys whistled.

For some reason the interchange damped down further discussion. "I won't get my bloods done at this rate," she turned on her heel. "I'd better get over - see if any of them are still awake."

"No need to bother." Jim prolonged it for maximum effect. "All coped with and entered up."

"You've done them? Oh, Jim, you shouldn't. It was too much to expect. You had more than enough of your own to contend with."

"Any time, Duchess, any time. What are a few blood counts between friends?" He acknowledged her thanks with a wave of the hand.

"Bless you!" It was the best exit line she could muster in the circumstances.

"Checkmate," Peter said softly as she went out of the room.

"Real sneaky, that bit," Sandy conceded admiringly. "Full marks, old boy, for besting the opposition." He chalked up an imaginary score.

Jim grinned without saying anything.

"No doubt about it," Peter admitted. "One dinner at the Rogano could scarcely hold the balance with a dozen blood counts she'd been figuring on doing herself."

"Especially as he sent the specimens to the lab." Sandy threw him a sly look.

"How did you know that?" Jim was jerked out of his complacency.

"Never fear, Brother Jim. Your secret is safe with us." Sandy put a hand over his heart. "But tell me - how are you hoping to get away with the venepuncture marks?"

"Easy." Jim sauntered over to the record player. "I set up sedimentation rates at the same time."

"Well, well, well. You crafty old devil!" The two men exchanged glances. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"I don't see why not. You've been confusing me with the Duchess - in more ways than one." He forestalled the obvious comments. "However, it would be esteemed a favour if you kept this to yourselves. I'm afraid Her Grace would not see things our way." He pulled a face. "I don't think I could bear the pained expressions."

"Alas, no," agreed Sandy. "Our blue-eyed one has much to learn."

They shook their heads dolefully, then burst out laughing.

None of them saw the slight movement of the winter curtains already drawn across the glass doors, nor observed Harry Dayborough change his mind and walk thoughtfully back across the courtyard to the wards.

Angela
Bishop stood in the duty room and gazed thoughtfully through the spyhole which gave a view of the side room.

Someone was driving Lesley Leigh too hard. There were dark smudges under her eyes which hadn't been noticeable two months ago. The fair complexion had that almost transparent look which strain often produced in red-haired individuals.

She turned to Harry Dayborough, who was lounging in her one easy-chair. "You heard me, Harry. I said, 'Why are you driving that girl so hard?' "

He gave his harsh laugh. "Since when have you been so concerned about housemen?"

"Don't come it with me, Harry. Something's going on, and I mean to get to the bottom of it."

He mocked her with his sardonic grin. "So?"

"You've got some kind of hold over her. That much I can guess."

"And?"

"You'll not get away with it indefinitely. I'm not the only one around here who's noticing things. Sister O.P.'s spotted it - even the Night Super. God knows she's scatty enough. It's the talk of the Sisters' Home, for all I know, maybe the Nurses' as well. Sooner or later it'll get back to the Chief. Oh, I've no intention of telling him." She came back to the desk and sat down. "You know that only too well. But I wouldn't give odds on some of the others. You haven't exactly endeared yourself to all of them. There's more than one person would love to see your head roll."

"Go on, darling. It suits you. I like to see you when you're roused."

She refused to be deflected. "What I don't understand is why she puts up with it. It's not as though the girl hasn't got spirit." She kept her eyes on his face. "What kind of stranglehold have you managed to put on her?"

He laughed. "Old Bloodhound Bishop! What you'd give to find out!"

"It's not as if she's given you any real cause. As far as I can see she's doing half of your work - or as much as even you dare risk on a resident. I know you, Harry. You're a foul- tempered so-and-so. When you go around with that smug self-satisfied expression, it means somebody somewhere is footing some bill."

"You notice a deal too much."

The telephone on her desk began ringing. She answered it and put her hand over the mouthpiece. "It's the haematology lab - for you." She held on to the instrument. "I'm warning you, Harry. I'm not standing by this time and watching you crucify her. She's a nice kid. Sir Charles thinks the world of her. Just a moment -" she spoke again into the mouthpiece. "I wonder if that's the only reason for your spite." She considered him thoughtfully. "No, that would be too simple and it wouldn't explain her accepting it so meekly. There has to be some other unexplained factor in this."

He uncrossed his legs and reached across for the receiver. "Some of these days this will get you into trouble." He tapped the tip of her nose with his pencil.

She surrendered the telephone, rose swiftly and left the room.

Harry Dayborough waited until the door closed behind her.

"Hello. Is that you? Now, listen. You know that business we were discussing. Well, this is what I want you to do."

At the other end of the line Kate Ritchie chuckled. This was a ploy right up her own street.

"You've been avoiding me lately." Jim caught up with Lesley as she was starting out across the courtyard.