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'And is it—serious?'

Katy blushed and Isobel laughed shrilly. 'David! Don't embarrass the girl. One look was enough to see that the man obviously adores her! And any girl would be mad to let a man like him slip through her fingers!' She perched girlishly on the arm of David's chair and slipped her arm possessively round his neck. 'Believe me, I know a good man when I see one, don't I, darling?'

Katy groaned inwardly. She
was
going to need that excuse, there was no doubt about it—and probably sooner than she had thought!

Katy
had never been more glad to be back at work than she was on that Monday morning two weeks later. Two days had been more than enough of being at home. Isobel was hardly ever out of the house and her father was obviously besotted. She felt totally in the way. On Sunday afternoon when the telephone had rung and Katy had answered it to find a caller ringing the wrong number she had seized her opportunity.

'Sean darling!' she shouted into the bewildered caller's ear with a flash of inspiration. 'Well—I don't know. I did promise to stay on here another couple of days but if you really want me to go with you. All right then, darling—see you later. I'm sure Dad will understand. Bye.' She had carried on her one-sided conversation loud enough for her father and Isobel in the other room to hear and when she rejoined them they were looking at each other knowingly.

'Don't tell me—there's some party or other on and your boyfriend wants you to go with him,' her father said.

'Oh Dad, I hope you don't mind—' She couldn't help noticing Isobel's look of relief. 'Sean says he misses me and—well, you know how it is.'

He had insisted on driving her to the bus station and of course Isobel had come too, kissing her fondly as she got on to the bus and making her promise to 'bring that young man home soon so that we can get a good look at him'.

As she waved them goodbye she swallowed the lump in her throat, wishing that all the lies she had told could have been true. The rest of her two weeks' holiday stretched before her like a yawning cavern—boring and empty. When she arrived back at the flat Tracy and Sonia told her that they had given the landlord notice. Secretly she thought they might have consulted her first, but there wasn't much point. She couldn't have afforded to stay on alone anyway.

By the time she went back to work she was almost desperate. Where was she to go—and what was she to do? Everyone was so full of their own plans that they didn't seem to have time to listen to her problems. She had lain awake night after night, thinking about them and now, as far as she could see, there was only one course left open to her. Much as she hated the idea she would have to pocket her pride and ask Sean MacInnon if his offer was still open. The idea of approaching him terrified her—but the idea that the job might have been filled terrified her even more!

When she reported for duty that morning she found that many of the girls she was working with were from the new intake but that the newly-appointed Staff Nurse was from her own year.
Karen Grainger had never been a friend of hers and now she found herself treated in the same way as the new student nurses. Katy hated it. Thank goodness it was only for another two weeks, she told herself. When it was time for the doctor's round she looked anxiously for Sean and when she caught sight of his dark head in the ward doorway her heart skipped a beat.

'Nurse Lang, have you got the notes for the new admission?' Karen Grainger snapped. 'Mr MacInnon is here to see him.'

Katy glared at Karen and fetched the notes, hurrying over to the bedside of a small boy who had been brought in the night before. She handed them to Sean, noting with dismay his curt nod to her. She might have been a student nurse to him too. He examined the child carefully, reading the GP's notes, then he straightened and looked at her.

'Peter came in last night with a severe asthma attack,' he told her. 'I want him monitored with a peak-flow meter. You're familiar with the procedure, aren't you?'

'Yes.' She followed him down the ward.

Suddenly he turned to her. 'How would you diagnose asthma in that child?' he asked her.

Surprised she glanced round at the little boy in the bed. 'Well—there is a rounding of the shoulders and the chest is slightly distended,' she said.

He nodded. 'And if you were to listen to his chest what would you expect to hear?'

'Wheezing.'

'Because—?'

'Because the airways are irritated.'

'Right. Give me the three most likely causes.'

'Allergy, infection and emotion,' she said without hesitation.

'And can you tell me the one important difference between asthma and other chest diseases.'

She considered, wrinkling her brow in concentration. 'In asthma the shortness of breath becomes progressively worse after exercise, whilst in other diseases of the chest it improves immediately with rest.'

He nodded, apparently satisfied. 'Well done, Nurse Lang. I would like you to take special care of Peter whilst he's here,' he said. 'He's rather a timid little boy and it's important that he feels at ease while he's undergoing tests. It's clear that he's taken to you. I'll have a word with Sister.' He was turning to leave the ward and she caught at his sleeve. It was now or never.

'Please—can I talk to you?' she asked, her heart beating fast.

He looked down at her. 'Of course you can.'

She' glanced round. 'Not here—I—could I see you later?' Her cheeks were scarlet.

'In the canteen at lunch time—twelve-thirty,' he said abruptly.

When he had gone Karen Grainger came up to her. 'You really mustn't try to engage the doctors in conversation. Nurse,' she said loftily. 'Don't you realise that their time is precious?'

Katy looked at her, her temper flaring. 'Mind your own business!' she snapped. 'And get lost!'

Karen peered at her indignantly from behind her spectacles. 'Really, Nurse Lang! I shall have to report you to Sister if you speak to me like that again.'

'Be my guest!' Katy invited. 'But you'd better hurry up or you'll lose your chance. I'm leaving the week after next!' As she turned triumphantly away she caught sight of Peter's face and winked wickedly at him.

As soon as she had finished her chores she went back to his bedside. He was an engaging little chap with bright ginger hair and freckles. While she worked his eyes had followed her round the ward and now that she had time to give him her attention he was obviously delighted. She picked up the colouring book he was looking at.

'This is nice. Don't you want to colour some of the pictures?' she asked him.

He shook his head. 'I haven't got any crayons.'

'Oh dear, that won't do. I'll see if I can find some for you if you like. Or, better still, you could go into the playroom and find them for yourself. You might even find another little boy to play with in there.'

His smile vanished and he hung his head. 'I can't,' he mumbled. 'Playing makes me cough and I can't breathe—like last night.'

She patted his shoulder. 'Never mind. We'll find out why that is and see if we can make you better, shall we? In the meantime I shall have to try and find the time to come and play with you myself shan't I?'

The grin returned and she noticed that his two front teeth were missing leaving an endearing gap.

'I like you,' he confided. 'What's your name?'

'I'm Nurse Lang, but you can call me Katy if you like—as long as you don't let Sister or Staff hear you, right? It'll be our secret, eh?'

He nodded conspiratorially. 'You're the only person I know who's got hair the same colour as mine,' he told her. 'Do they call you "Carrots" too?'

She shook her head, frowning fiercely. 'They wouldn't dare! Actually, Peter, when you're grown up people seem to like it better. They stop calling you all those rude things.' At the back of her mind she was remembering Sean calling her 'Marigold'— well, it was an improvement on 'Carrots'.

She was late for her lunch break. It was nothing unusual on the children's ward, they were notoriously difficult with their meals. When she finally did arrive at the canteen she quite expected Sean to have gone, and at first she thought he had as she stood on tiptoe to scan the sea of heads. Then she saw him on the far side of the room. He was drinking a cup of coffee and he had even tipped up the chair opposite—saving it for her? She hurried across to him.

'Sorry I'm late.'

He glanced up at her. 'Your cap is crooked.'

She pulled it off and succeeded in loosening most of her hair at the same time. He looked amused.

'Aren't you eating?'

She lifted her shoulders, frantically trying to tuck her hair back into its chignon. 'I was afraid you might have given up and gone. I wanted to talk to you,' she said through a mouthful of pins. 'It doesn't matter about lunch.'

'Don't be so stupid!' he admonished. 'How can you expect to care for your patients if you neglect yourself? It's one of the first basics of nursing.' He glared at her. 'What happens if you don't eat?'

She bit her lip. 'The blood sugar level is lowered,' she answered meekly.

'And what effect does that have?'

'It—it slows up the reactions.' Her temper was rising again. Why was he behaving like a Dickensian schoolmaster this morning? And why was she letting him get away with it? 'Well—that's the answer you were looking for isn't it?' she demanded. 'You seem to have forgotten that I'm giving up nursing. You can forget the lectures now, you know!' Her eyes flashed at him dangerously but his own dark ones glared back relentlessly.

'While you're looking after my patients you're still a nurse as far as I am concerned and you
will
have something to eat—and as many lectures as I think you need—Nurse Lang.' He got to his feet. 'I can recommend the egg, sausage and chips—and I don't want to hear that it's fattening! Tea or coffee?'

She sniffed. 'Coffee.'

She watched as he went across to the counter. What was the matter with everyone today? If only he could have been in the mood he had shown her when he gave her a lift home. What she had to ask him would be doubly difficult now.

As she tucked into the sausage, egg and chips she realised for the first time how hungry she was. He watched her in silence for a while, then asked:

'Well, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?'

She swallowed, then looked at him, one eyebrow raised perversely. 'Don't you know that it's very bad for the digestion to talk and eat at the same time?'

He began to get up. 'I've more to do with my time than sit here listening to your impertinence!'

Panic rose in her throat, almost choking her. 'Oh, please—I didn't mean to be rude. Don't go!' Several people looked round in amusement at her crimson-faced confusion and Sean looked more annoyed than ever. She took a deep breath. 'Look—I do have something to say—something important—and—and difficult.'

He sat down again, his face as dark as thunder. 'Well for heaven's sake say it before you have half the hospital gossiping about us!'

She laid down her knife and fork. 'That job you told me about—in Yorkshire. Have you filled it yet?'

He looked at her for a long moment. 'Are you trying to tell me that you've changed your mind?' he asked.

She shrugged. 'I might have.'

He stood up. 'Well, I'll give you until this evening to make up your mind about it,' he told her tersely. 'I'll be at your flat this evening at eight. If you've managed to decide what you want to do we'll talk about it then.' And without another word or a backward glance he was gone.

Katy knew she would have the flat to herself when she got home that evening. Tracy had gone up North for an interview and Sonia had a date with a new boyfriend. She showered and changed though Sean hadn't said he was taking her out. Maybe he would only stay long enough to tell her the details about the job. After some consideration she put on her new stretch jeans and a fluffy cream sweater, tying up her unruly hair in a ponytail.

He was prompt, ringing the doorbell dead on eight o'clock. She had found half a bottle of sherry at the back of the kitchen cupboard, left over from the party, and had put it out on the sideboard with two glasses so that she could offer him a drink. He accepted.

'Thanks, I will. It's been quite a day one way and another. Tell me, how have you got along with Peter?'

She smiled as she poured two glasses of sherry and handed one to him. 'Fine. He's a super little boy. It's a pity he's so hung up about playing with the other children though.'

He nodded. 'I've been looking through the notes his GP sent through, I also rang him this afternoon for a chat. It seems Peter's parents are divorced and he and his mother live with the grandmother so that she can care for Peter while his mother goes to work. His asthma is almost certainly allergic. He didn't have it until he went to live with his grandmother and she is a cat person—she breeds Siamese, it seems the house is full of them. But she is convinced that his trouble is emotional—caused by the divorce. She coddles him, thinks of him as "delicate"—instils into him that he will be ill if he runs and plays with the other kids.' He spread his hands. 'You've seen the result.'

She shook her head. 'What can be done about it?'

'Ideally he and his mother should move to a place of their own, away from the cats and the grandmother's influence. But it isn't as easy as that. Peter's mother needs the money she earns, she couldn't afford to pay someone to look after Peter during the day.'

'Now that he's started school couldn't she find a job that would fit in with his hours?'

He pulled a face. 'You know how hard jobs are to find. That's something for the hospital social worker to sort out. Our job is to convince her—the mother, that is—that Peter's trouble is being caused essentially by the cats.' It isn't always easy to accept a fact that is going to make life difficult for us, is it?'

She digested this last remark, knowing all too well how true it was.

Sean leaned forward. 'Katy—don't tell me that you're not cut out to be a nurse. It just isn't true and you know it, don't you? You're not going to let one setback ruin a good career, are you?'