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"Very devious, I must say." Sandy threw himself into his customary armchair. "On the off-chance, however, that it still hasn't penetrated, Big Brother Sandy will spell it out for you. If there's only one job, and they want referees, His Nibs can only back one of you."

"Perhaps neither of us will get it." She veered away from the awkward thought. "After all, it is being advertised throughout the country. There's no saying what the final field will look like."

Sandy hooted. "I need hardly point out, what I'm sure you've already spotted, that in no way affects your immediate dilemma."

"Which is?"

"She's at it again." Sandy groaned. "Normally, I wouldn't have said you were obtuse. One of you has to secure him as referee. Even to do that, you have to compete with Jim. Somebody's going to be left on the shelf."

"It could be a straw in the wind at that," drawled Pete. "If you both ask him, he has to show his hand. He can scarcely conceal which one he's going to support." He regarded her with obvious amusement. "On reflection, old boy," he addres
sed himself to Sandy, "I don't think I'll take you up on those odds."

"I've just been reconsidering them myself." Sandy clasped his hands behind his head and spread himself expansively in the big chair. "I'd been forgetting the other way in which James might reduce the odds."

"I can see we're on the same wavelength." Pete acknowledged it with a salute.

"It wouldn't be the first guy to marry out the opposition."

Lesley laughed. "And I thought you were really a pair of romantics at heart!"

Hugh Campbell followed her out into the corridor. "It's their idea of a joke. They don't mean anything by the ribbing."

"I know, Hugh." She smiled. "That's not what's bothering me. It never crossed my mind there might be only one job."

"It won't make any difference, will it, to your plans?"

"I don't know." She was surprised at herself. "Somehow it doesn't seem right to stand against a friend. I suppose that sounds silly."

"No. It's almost what I'd expect coming from you." He had stopped at the entrance to his own side-corridor. "It's part of the strange mixture which goes to make up Lesley Leigh."

"Dear me! You make it sound terribly complicated." Suddenly she saw how it must look to someone else.

"No," he said slowly, picking his words, "I can see that with your temperament, it would pose a real problem. I think it must have something to do with being a girl; or perhaps it's because you've never really needed to compete for anything before. From all accounts you've always managed to sweep the boards." He hesitated. "Stop me if I'm butting in where I'm not wanted, but there isn't a fellow in there" - he nodded back towards the sitting-room - "who wouldn't shake hands with his best friend, wish him luck, and take it for granted that each would be doing his darnedest to get the promotion over the other one's head."

"Things are never that straightforward for me."

"Perhaps you prefer them complex." He kicked an imaginary stone with his foot. "I'm sorry. As I see it, it's very simple: not easy - but simple. You either go all out for what you want in this world, or you bow out before the struggle becomes apparent. That way you never know whether or not you could have pulled it off." He leaned back on the doorpost and looked at her. "Mind you, if I were Jim, I don't think I'd take too kindly to you dodging out now. In spite of what the boys say, no man wants to think that he could only get a job by some woman opting out for him."

"You see," she pounced on him, "when it comes to the bit you're just as irrational as women."

He grinned back at her. "Not in quite the same way, perhaps, but yes, I admit it, equally erratic. The male ego dies hard - like the female's instinctive reversal to the subservient role."

She raised a quizzical eyebrow and he laughed outright. "I thought that would have produced more of a spark from you. Nevertheless," he added seriously, "if you want my opinion, it's not men who hold women back, nowadays, but something inside of themselves."

(Where had she heard that idea expressed before?)

"Who knows?" he went on. "Jim may be having the same argument with himself. If you're right about equality, neither sex should have the prerogative in self-sacrifice."

"Oh, but it wouldn't be right for him to back down." The words were out before she could stop them.

"Why not? Unless you
are
thinking of marrying him as the boys suggest."

"No, it isn't that." She said it too quickly.

"You wouldn't be confusing two separate things, by any chance?" He looked at her shrewdly.

"No. But a girl can't altogether preclude the possibility of marriage," she said slowly. "If I did get married I'd feel awfully mean about having stood in Jim's way."

"Then you
do
think you stand the better chance?"

"Till this week," she said cautiously, "I should probably have said 'yes'. Now," she shrugged, "I'm not so sure. My stock's pretty low at the moment with the Chief."

"Care to explain further, or is it classified information?"

She hesitated. "Probably not, Hugh. It's internal politics - in the unit, I mean."

He nodded slowly. "I can guess. I suppose there wouldn't be any point in telling your Chief about the present problem and asking for his advice about it?"

"That did occur to me, but, as Pete says, it's tantamount to asking him to say whom he'd finally choose."

"I suppose it is a bit obvious."

"I could always apply but approach outside referees. I was thinking of Professor Summerskill - he gave me my distinction oral in surgery; and Jo Pearce - I did my intensive medicine with him in final year."

He whistled. "A formidable array of heavyweights! Still, it's no answer. You know as well as I do that it's what the home man says which counts."

"There's always McLaughlan - not that a sub-chief carries so much weight."

"No. As I see it," he said firmly, "either you're going after this job or you're not. If you are, you must pull out all the stops. No half measures. There's no sense in playing to lose."

"You're absolutely right, Hugh. I know it." She still sounded doubtful. "Anyway, thanks for helping me face up to the facts." She grinned to ease the tension.

"Instant analysis." He grinned back at her. "Glad to have been of service, even if only as a super sort of sounding board. And the best of luck - whatever you finally decide to do." He paused, then added slowly, "I can't help thinking the boys are right - Jim's been an awful ass letting it come to this."

She was just wondering whether or not to let this pass when Dayborough's face appeared on the other side of the glass door. "Full of homespun wisdom as usual, Campbell?" He bowed extravagantly as Hugh stood back to open it for him. "If Miss Leigh spent as much time working as she does huddled in corners, scheming, the country's productivity graph might take an upward swing."

Campbell blushed and Lesley said good-bye and beat a hasty retreat to her room.

There was a posy of anemones and a note on her dressing- table. Jim had indicated the time of writing as three p.m.

"Really, Duchess! I don't know whether to be mad or sorry. I had thought you'd know by this time that I meant it about the car, but I've just discovered it's still in the car park. Unfortunately, I can't even get away to fetch you at four. Harry's had to leave me with Outpatients. Hope you don't catch your death of cold in this rain." Attached with scotch tape was a small cellophane packet full of mustard powder. A postscript said, "One mustard bath. Trust you'll know what to do without further professional advice."

"Don't
go for a moment, Doctor. I would like a word with you."

"Yes, Sir Charles?" Lesley turned and came back into the staff room.

"I rather thought I might have been hearing from you before this." He had his elbows on the arms of the chair and was watching her over his clasped hands.

"Sir?"

"About the senior house post. I take it you saw the advertisement?"

"Yes, sir, I saw it."

"You still want to specialise? I trust three months with us haven't caused you to change your plans?"

She stood perfectly still in the middle of the room. "I thought recent events might have prejudiced the issue."

He went on gazing at her. She swallowed hard. "The affair of the blood count," she managed to say at last.

"You underrate me, Miss Leigh." His voice was quiet. One hand was removing the wallet from his inside pocket. He withdrew some papers. Amongst them Lesley could see two or three pink slips. He selected one of these and smoothed it out with his fingers. "It scarcely needed Sherlock Holmes to decipher this document." He handed it over. "Fortunately, the carbon paper is cheap. If you look you will see it's come through on the back."

On top it said clearly "red and white cell counts". She turned it over. She didn't need a mirror to make out the faint impression of her own handwriting. "Blood glucose" were the words in reverse carbon on the back.

"Your practical joker was not so clever. Besides, there was this." He held out one of yesterday's prothrombin time slips. "I owe you an apology, Doctor. I should have known your reliability was not in doubt, without Sister Bishop having to underline it for me." He refolded the papers and put them back in his wallet.

Lesley's relief was profound. She knew it showed in her face. Firecrackers were exploding inside her brain. She almost forgot the subject of his initial enquiry. All that mattered for the moment was that he knew she was cleared.

"Is this why you haven't been to see me about the appointment?"

Joy drained away from her. "It's been rather awkward." Her voice sounded hollow. "There's only one post."

"And-?"

"Jim has his heart set on staying here too." She hadn't been sure till she said it that this was in fact what her subconscious had decided to do.

"That makes a difference?" He looked puzzled.

"We'd both have to ask you to act as referee."

"And I couldn't very well give you both my support. Is that it?"

She nodded. "You'd have to opt for one of us - if there is only one job."

He did not reply to the query in the last remark. Instead he said quietly, "Couldn't I be expected to be the best judge of that?"

"You told me once what you thought of women doctors." She took refuge in quoting his own words from the past.

"I seem to remember on that occasion it didn't stop you pursuing what you'd set your heart on."

She was silent. She had to choose her next words with care. "It would be very much simpler if you -" she stopped and started again. "It doesn't seem right to run against a friend."

There was another moment's silence while he continued gazing at her. "Not even if he's decided to 'run against' you?"

"He's already approached you? I didn't know." She was surprised. Jim hadn't even broached the subject with her.

"That was why I wanted to know where you stood. I said I would give him my answer this week."

The stillness in the room was almost palpable now.

"You have nothing more to say to me?" he asked at last.

Still she didn't reply.

He rose and lifted the lid of the coffee pot, peered inside and started refilling his cup. "If there had been two posts would you have applied?" His face was turned away from her. She couldn't see its expression.

"That would have made it easier." Her voice was muffled.

"It means that much to you, Miss Leigh?" He seemed to have lost count of the spoonfuls of sugar. "I must say I'm a little disappointed. I had thought you were going to be quite professional about this." He made a ritual out of stirring his cup. "Surely Graham himself would be the first to encourage you. I shouldn't have thought he'd want to stand in your way."

"We haven't discussed it."

"I see. May I ask why not?" He frowned slightly, taking a sip of the coffee.

"You, too, know the obligations of friendship." She put a hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry, Sir Charles. That was quite inexcusable."

He turned and looked at her over the rim of his cup. "There's no need to apologise, Doctor. I shouldn't have pressed you on what is, after all, a very personal matter. I can see it makes it difficult for you as a woman. You might have got the promotion over his head. I fear it may be a problem you will have to face again in the future - unless, of course, you mean to opt out of your career altogether, or settle for less than you're capable of reaching." He hesitated. "I should be sorry to see that happen." He leaned forward and replaced the almost untouched cup of coffee on the tray.

It was too late to say that she'd been half hoping that somehow he'd take the decision out of her hands.

"Forgive me for saying this." He fiddled with the crockery. "But surely young Graham has faced this often enough in the past. I don't seem to remember that he figured much in the prize list."

Indirectly he seemed to be giving her the clues she'd been seeking. Unbelievable as it seemed, it did look as though he'd meant to support her.

"That's somehow different from promotion," she said lamely. "There are rowing blues and golfing cups - to which men attach importance." She shrugged. "It's easy to see then why they don't surpass at everything."

"I see," he said again. "I think you've made your position quite clear. I'm sorry. I'd looked forward to a closer association but now that we've had this chat I think I understand a number of things which had been puzzling me."

"Then there is only one job?" As usual she'd been hoping against hope for a miracle.

"In the meantime, at any rate." Although the words left room for doubt there was something very final in the tone of his reply. "No, don't come out. Finish your coffee." He seemed to have forgotten that she'd finished hers a long time ago. "I can see myself out. In any case I have business with the Medical Superintendent." He looked suddenly tired. As he rose he put a hand to his leg as though it were hurting him. The limp seemed a little more pronounced than usual.