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Bell let her into the haematology wing. She felt her way in the semi-darkness to the big fridge in the corner. On the second shelf down she found what she was looking for. Jim had them labelled with Farmer's name and blood group. She took the two bottles and closed the door.

Bell locked up after her. "I didn't know you were on duty, Doctor."

"I'm not. Just giving Dr. Graham a hand out with his emergency."

"Oh, aye. I had to call him about half an hour ago. Sister Staines was in a right state about something. She's a great one for losing the head. Doesn't like being left holding the baby. Sorry, Doctor." He saw the warning gleam in Lesley's eye.

"That's all right, Mr. Bell. By the way, I'll probably be back. Got an idea we're going to need more of these. I'll let you know if I have to get into the lab again."

"That's right, Doctor. Just give me a ring. I'll be on the switchboard."

He watched the slim figure disappearing into the shadows of the medical block. "Bright kid", he thought. "Have to watch herself, though." He found himself remembering the cryptic half-threats he'd overheard that Sunday night in the corridor of Ward Two.

He turned back to his cubicle and lit the gas ring. Some fellows had it made. Fancy young Graham having the brass neck to get her up to help him at this hour of the night, as if she didn't have enough work of her own to do - more than enough if his daughter Carol was to be believed. He shook his head. Nice enough fellow, Graham, but not in her league. He took down the old caddy from the top shelf and scooped four liberal spoonfuls of tea into the pot.

*

John Farmer had indeed lost over a pint of blood. By the time Lesley reached Ward Three it was more like two pints. Together, Jim and she set up the blood drip. Because the ulcer was still actively bleeding this transfusion would need careful control. Delivered too fast and the chance of fresh haemorrhage
increased: too slowly, and the cardiac output might not be maintained.

Their patient was restless. He needed sedation. Lesley drew Jim aside. "This is worse than we thought. I think we're going to need a senior, don't you?"

"And more blood. Could you hold the fort while I go over and cross-match some more? On the way I'll get Bell to give Harry a shout."

While he was gone Lesley had her work cut out. Twice Farmer managed to jerk out the drip. On the third occasion she was forced to do a cut-down on a leg vein. Jim was back almost before she'd had time to notice he'd been gone.

"Harry isn't in his room. Bell says the door of his suite is locked. What do we do now, I wonder?"

She sighed. "Don't tell me he's done it again! Last time, at least, he wasn't officially on call. Surely he'd never risk it with his name on the roster?"

"I suppose I'd better go over and make sure for myself. Just in case Bell hasn't managed to rouse him, too."

Lesley returned to the bedside. The drip had temporarily blocked. It took several minutes to get the flow re-established. By the time she'd coped Jim had reappeared.

"I can't get a cheep out of him. If he's in he's certainly lying doggo."

"I don't like the look of Farmer at all." Lesley beckoned the night nurse to take over for a moment. "I think in the circumstances, Jim, we ought to call the Chief." They walked slowly back to the duty room.

"I suppose you're right." He lifted the receiver. "I could see Harry far enough. God knows what excuse I'm going to make for him this time." He spoke to the switchboard and gave the Chief's number. "Oh, and Bell, after you put me through, could you have another shot at trying to find Dr. Dayborough? There's just a chance he may be somewhere else in the hospital."

The number replied and Jim waved Lesley to return to the patient, while he started talking to Sir Charles.

He was still in the duty room when Harry Dayborough strolled into the ward.

"What's all the fuss about?" He swaggered up to the bedside. "Oh, it's you again," he addressed himself to the patient.

John Farmer was having another attack. Lesley was supporting his head with one hand. In the other she held the sickness bowl. Some of the fresh blood had stained her coat and her shoes.

Harry Dayborough looked her up and down. "You're in a right guddle, aren't you? We'll soon not be able to turn in this place for you."

The patient retched. "I'm sorry, Doctor, I can't help it." He was sick again.

For a moment Dayborough let up on his raillery. "How much blood has he had?"

"Two pints."

"Better ease up the rate of flow. He's losing it almost as fast as you're putting it in."

Lesley adjusted the clip. It was a fiddling business.

When he had pronounced himself satisfied with it, Dayborough signalled the nurse to take over. "Where's young Graham?" he asked on the way back up the ward. "I thought he was the one bringing down the house."

"He's phoning Sir Charles. We thought you were out."

Dayborough raised an eyebrow. "Bringing in the big guns, are we? And what about you? Where do you fit in? As if I didn't know." He laughed. "Taken to holding his hand at night, too, now?"

Lesley blushed. "It was just the way it happened." This man always managed to make her feel uncomfortable.

"Oh, spare me the explanations, Miss Leigh." He raised a hand. "No one could say that I'm not broad-minded. Ah, talk of the devil, here he comes now."

Jim looked a little taken aback. "I didn't hear you come in, Harry."

(So it was Jim and Harry now, she thought.)

"I'd better try to stop the Chief before he leaves home." Jim turned back. But when he was reconnected with the number, Sir Charles had already set out for the hospital. "Sorry about that," he said apologetically.

"Not to worry, old chap. We can always say I was in the other unit. Do him good to get called out of bed for a change." He sat down in the easy chair and swung one leg over the other. "What about some tea while we're waiting?" He clapped his hands at Lesley. "Now that you're here you might as well make yourself useful. Chop-chop."

Lesley held his gaze. "Nurse already has her hands full. I'll go and relieve her if you like," she said. •

"By jove, Graham, you've got things down to a fine art, I must say." He gave Jim an exaggerated wink. "Getting them to fetch and carry for you in the middle of the night. What next?"

Jim laughed and Dayborough continued. "Made enough noise, the pair of you, getting out - it's a wonder you didn't rouse the whole neighbourhood."

Lesley paused in the act of turning the door handle. Where had he been if he'd heard them go out? No one in his wing could possibly have heard anything.

He intercepted her glance. "No need to jump to any wild conclusions. Some of us indulge in quite innocent pastimes." He managed to imply that there were others who didn't. "Poker for four in an auxiliary's room. What could be more innocuous than that? Amazing how sound carries in these jerry-built shacks." Once again his tone suggested more than his actual words. "However, if I were you, old boy," he turned to Jim, "I'd get her out of here before His Lordship arrives. No sense in underlining the obvious."

Jim followed her out of the room. As the door shut behind them she heard Dayborough's laugh.

"Maybe he's right, Lesley. You should be gone before the Chief gets here."

"Don't worry about him, Jim. I'm used to his ribbing. I don't mind lending a hand. If you want to wait here for Sir Charles, I'll get the other pint of blood."

"No," he said urgently. "Use your loaf, Lesley. Can't you see how it looks?"

"How it looks?" She was astonished. "To Harry Dayborough? You must be joking. That man would twist anything."

"Dash it all," he was annoyed, "I don't want the Chief to think I can't cope on my own."

"I'm sorry, Jim. I never thought of it like that. I mistakenly imagined I was helping you out."

"So you were. It's not that I'm not grateful -"

"That's all right, Jim. No need to make a production out of it." She was hurt. "I'll go. I won't be here when the Chief comes." It had been a different story half an hour ago, she thought. He'd been glad enough then of the second pair of hands.

She walked quickly from the unit into the main corridor. Too late. The Chief was already coming in at the main door. On the spur of the moment she sidestepped into the surgical wing.

"Is that you, Miss Leigh?" He halted at the intersection in which she was hiding. "I thought it was Graham who was on duty."

"It is. I was just giving him a hand with the blood drip."

He looked round the corridor in which they were standing. "In the Surgical Unit?" His tone was quizzical.

"Actually, I was on the way back to my room."

"I see. Taking a long way round for a short cut?"

Lesley grinned. She was embarrassed and she knew it showed in her face. "I was trying to avoid bumping into you," she said.

"I see," he said again. "Am I such an ogre?"

"There was the little matter of the two nights without sleep." She said the first thing that came into her head.

He smiled back. "So there was, to be sure. And how are the pills coming on?" Before she had time to anticipate his action, he had placed his hand under her chin and was tilting her face towards the corridor light. "No sign of jaundice yet, I'm glad to see."

"Sometimes I think the cure's worse than the disease." She said it to cover her confusion.

"Don't say that," he said quickly.

"No, it was a stupid remark." His face was so disconcertingly near. "Mrs. Hopkins has been very sick."

"Yes. It can be a most unpleasant disorder." He released her at last. "Thank you for helping Graham out."

"Goodnight, sir."

"Good morning, Miss Leigh."

For the briefest of moments before quickening his step he allowed himself the luxury of watching her go. The trim red head bobbed its way along the corridor. She walked with a rare combination of grace and dignity. He scarcely knew what it was about her which appealed so much. She didn't pressurise him as so many women did. He found himself thinking that with her came in the peace.

He turned towards the ward, aware again as always in such moments of the awkwardness of this infernal limp.

Jim Graham had spotted him and was hurrying to meet him.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir, I'm afraid I've got you here on a wild goose chase. Dr. Dayborough managed to make it after all. He was in the other unit when the porter called. I thought you'd be sure to want Farmer seen. He's lost rather a lot of blood."

"That's all right, Graham." He touched the younger man's shoulder. "Now that I'm here I might as well see him. Let me have a look first at the pulse and blood pressure charts."

He nodded briefly to Dayborough who had come out of the duty room. Together the three men went into the darkened ward.

A few minutes later Sister Staines was hurrying into the unit. Bush telegraph had alerted her that the great man himself was on the premises tonight. As Night Superintendent she rarely had the honour of a visit from him. "Nurse, you'll see that Sir Charles has a cup of tea before he goes?"

"Thank you, Sister, but there's really no need." He finished his examination and spoke reassuringly to the patient.

"It's no trouble, Sir Charles. It's a very cold night out. The forecast is for snow before morning," she fussed.

Like many women, he thought, she talked too much when she was nervous. "I thought I saw the first flakes on my windscreen," he agreed politely, as they made their way out of the ward.

"I said as much to Bell when I was calling Dr. Graham. There's a nasty north wind sweeping across that courtyard."

"Yes, it always seems to lengthen the winter when we have snow before Christmas." His mind was still preoccupied with Farmer's chart.

"Graham, at least, doesn't seem to feel the cold." It was Harry Dayborough with his heavy jocularity. He twitched open Graham's coat to reveal the pyjama top underneath. "These youngsters go about half naked, wouldn't you say, Sister?"

She clicked her teeth. "I wouldn't know, Dr. Dayborough, I'm sure. Dr. Graham certainly doesn't seem clad for this weather." She didn't seem to spot that he was pulling her leg. "You'll have a cup anyway, Doctor?" She appealed to Graham.

"You're not leaving me out, are you, Sister?" It was Harry again.

"Certainly not, Dr. Dayborough. We'd all be the better of a cup." She bustled off to arrange it.

Sir Charles smiled to himself. She had the usual Night Sister's addiction to the beverage.

"You seem to have coped with Farmer satisfactorily." He turned to Graham.

"Thank you, sir. He's steadied a little in the last quarter of an hour."

"I think he'll need watching for the next few days. Keep him on a half-hourly pulse, meantime, and be sure that Sister contacts you immediately if it shows signs of rising again. How are you off for blood?"

"I've got another three pints cross-matched."

"Good. I think you've covered everything else." He checked the drugs noted on the patient's chart. "I won't wait any longer. I'd like to get home before the storm starts."

"Don't be such a stuffed shirt, Charles. It's a long way off yet. Why don't you sit down for once and give us your crack?" Really, sometimes Harry went too far in front of a houseman. Still, there was something about the atmosphere in the unit at night which tended to relax the formalities between staff. "Perhaps I will. I suppose I could do with a cup." He drew off his coat. Graham took it and pulled out a chair for him.

"I was wondering, sir, if you'd given any more thought to the matter of my application," he said tentatively.

He looked at the youngster for a moment before replying. One thing he'd say for Graham - he wasn't slow about pushing himself forward. "I think I'd like to reserve my position for a little longer, Graham. Of course, if you'd prefer to muster other referees, it wouldn't prejudice your chances. You'd be well within your rights." He sat down in the proffered seat.

"I'd much rather wait for you, sir. Nothing puts you in such a strong position as your own chief."

There was a certain cockiness about the reply which irked him tonight. "Have you considered how this might affect Dr. Leigh?" He couldn't refrain from asking the question which had been in his mind all week.