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Oliver looked surprised. Then he looked serious. 'Do you know, Sophie Bennett, that's another very good idea you've had? Tell you what. Let's make a deal. Let's swap invitations.' He leaned closer. Sophie could feel the warmth of his breath on her face as he spoke. 'You invite me to your wedding. And I'll invite
you
to
mine.'

Wedding
invitations were the last thing Sophie Bennett wanted to think about.

Plans for her own wedding had always formed a delightful part of the fantasy of her future that Sophie had conjured around her relationship with Greg. A traditional ceremony, a beautiful dress—a wonderful occasion to mark the beginning of a lifelong partnership. She suspected that, along with the thriving general practice which had been intended to become the focus of their professional lives, there lurked a quaint cottage with a pram parked near the white picket fence. The death of her own plans were too fresh to have adequately scarred over. The thought of receiving an invitation to Oliver Spencer's wedding was much, much worse. Had he been serious?

It was impossible to ignore. Every time she saw him, Sophie had errant mental images of silver bells, doves and chubby cupids of the type printed on formal wedding invitations. Not that Oliver said anything more about the subject, but he exuded happiness. A blatant good humour on a par with Josh's typical, unhungover demeanour. A confidence about a positive outcome that filled Sophie with an unmistakable resentment. And, yes, she had to admit it— jealousy.

And he seemed to take every possible opportunity to rub it in. He was over-enthusiastic about minor things. Like when Sophie had told him that Ruby Murdock had joined a weight reduction clinic.

'Great!' He'd beamed. 'Fantastic!'

And Sophie had been instantly reminded of his satisfied appraisal of his weekend away with Christine Prescott.

'How's her asthma?' Oliver had queried with interest.

'Fine.' At any other time Sophie would have been delighted to have shared the progress. But her tone had been uncharacteristically offhand. 'She's using her preventative therapy consistently. She hasn't even needed her Ventolin for more than a week.'

Was Oliver setting out deliberately to try and make Sophie aware of how much she wanted him? Like always sitting as close as possible to her when they were in the staffroom together, or brushing her hand or arm if they happened to reach for stationery or patient files at the same time in the main office. Or leaning over her shoulder to discuss a patient's results. Sophie could prepare herself for the deliberate contact when Oliver gave her a tutorial or was demonstrating a new procedure or technique. It was the unexpected instances that were hard to handle. And there seemed to be far too many of them. Was he simply so happy in his own new relationship that he was unaware of the subtle change in his behaviour towards her? It was hardly sexual harassment, so why did Sophie
feel
so harassed?

Sophie tried to hang onto her new insight about how satisfying her career in general practice was going to be. She tried very hard not to let personal responses to her supervisor get in the way, but it was more difficult than she had expected. If took several days of effort before Sophie saw a glimmer of hope that her campaign had some hope of success.

Mrs Wentworth, a woman in her late sixties, had presented with a nasty rash on her face. Sophie had explored the possibilities of allergies and contact dermatitis from plants such as primulas or chrysanthemums, but it was the thick, flesh-coloured pair of stockings Mrs Wentworth wore that inspired a new tack. She was quite proud of her diagnosis when she got Oliver to check the prescription she had written.

'That should do the trick.' He nodded at her selection of steroidal cream. 'And a referral for prompt treatment of her varicose veins might help. What made you think of it?'

'We had a lecture at medical school on dermatology that stressed how important it was to look further than the presenting area of skin. I remember being impressed that someone's face could have a secondary reaction to gravitational dermatitis on someone's ankle.'

'Is the ankle badly affected?'

'Quite extensive scaling and inflammation over her left foot and ankle. Almost ulcerated in places. It'll take a while to get it sorted and she might need referral to a dermatologist, but hopefully this cream will help her face more quickly. I'll see her again next week.' Sophie smiled. 'It was an interesting case. I'm glad I got it right.'

'Dermatology can be very rewarding,' Oliver agreed. 'It's supposed to be the perfect specialty. Your patients never die, never get better and never get you up in the middle of the night.' His expression was deadpan but Sophie caught the gleam of lurking humour and the invitation to respond.

She smiled at the joke and then her smile broadened as she returned to her patient. Was it relief that she could enjoy Oliver's humour without a stab of pain at the thought of his wit being directed at eliciting Christine Prescott's giggles? That had to be some sort of progress.

Then Sophie had to ask Oliver to help her with a patient the next evening. Peter Phelps rushed in at 5.15 p.m.

'I can't stand it any longer,' he groaned to Toni. 'There's something in my eye and it's driving me crazy.'

Janet and Josh had gone at 5 p.m. Oliver was with his last patient so Sophie offered to help. Twenty minutes later she tapped on Oliver's door.

'He's got this lump of bark chip stuck to his cornea,' Sophie explained. 'It's quite obvious and the history doesn't raise any suspicion of a penetrating injury. He had a truckload of bark chip delivered for his garden and it was very windy. There's no sign of any subconjunctival haemorrhage.'

'Maybe he should go to A and E and have it checked. We don't have a slit lamp.'

'He's very keen to have it fixed now.' Sophie smiled wryly. 'It's his wedding anniversary and his wife's expecting to be taken out to dinner. I gather he forgot last year.'

'Oh.' Oliver grinned. 'On trial, then, is he?'

'I've instilled topical anaesthesia and tried to sweep it out with a cotton bud.' Sophie shook her head. 'The damn .thing moves quite easily but it's stuck like glue.'

Oliver nodded. 'Foreign bodies can be astonishingly adherent to the surface of the corneal epithelium.' He jumped to his feet. 'Come on, I'll show you a trick.'

Oliver selected a fine 20-gauge needle, having examined Peter's eye. He made two bends in the needle, one at the bevelled tip and another halfway along its length.

'This means you can hold the needle parallel to the cornea,' he explained to Sophie. 'Much safer. You need to sweep the needle under the edge of the foreign body, using the side of the needle, not the tip.'

Sophie's hand shook very slightly as she positioned her hand. Oliver's hand closed gently over hers. 'Rest your little finger under the eye and steady the others on top. Hold the needle like a pen and keep the eyelid open with your other thumb. Don't blink, Peter.'

'I won't,' their patient promised. 'Do you think you can get it out now?'

Sophie found her hand quite steady with Oliver's support. She scooped the piece of bark chip onto the flattened end of the needle with a sideways motion and lifted it clear. Oliver clicked on his ophthalmoscope to check Peter's eye for any further debris.

'Clear as a bell,' he pronounced. 'We'll give you a quick vision check, some antibiotic drops to use for twenty-four hours, and put a pad on until tomorrow. You'll look like a pirate when you go out to dinner, I'm afraid.'

'As long as I get there,' Peter said gratefully. 'Thanks a lot.'

Oliver stayed until Sophie finished. 'Use a double pad,' he instructed her. 'Keep your eyes closed for the moment, Peter.' Oliver's hands remained in contact with Sophie's as she held the pads in place while he demonstrated an effective taping pattern.

Sophie was delighted to find that the physical contact this consultation had involved hadn't given her any kind of generalised physical reaction. She had been acutely aware of the touch of Oliver's skin on her own but the effect had been purely local. That was
definitely
progress. She even found herself thinking of someone other than Oliver Spencer as soon as he left the room. The patch on Peter's eye reminded her of Toni's campaign to get rid of her spectacles. The practice manager had been excited to receive an appointment to get her second eye done in a month or so and Sophie shared her pleasure at the prospect.

It didn't help that Oliver reported the next weekend as also being 'great' but Sophie held onto her own campaign. With the passing of another few days, Sophie found she had even discovered a way to stop those intense looks from Oliver Spencer's smoky grey eyes doing those peculiar things to her body. It was quite easy. All she had to do was look away in time. If the contact was curtailed after no more than two seconds or so, she was protected.

Sophie had it taped. She could cope. She had a sneaking suspicion that her tactic was annoying Oliver, however. His stare was becoming increasingly intense when she did catch his eye. Almost as though he was demanding the contact. It simply hardened Sophie's resolve. She was gaining a new emotional strength with every passing day. She wasn't going to let any preoccupation with what might have been distract her from her new focus.

The tutorial Oliver gave Sophie on reading ECGs the following week marked the second stage of a downturn which had been prompted by Oliver's satisfaction on the most recent 'fantastic' weekend. Dr Spencer had appeared in Sophie's office, carrying a large plastic bag.

'Look what I dug up!' he told her happily. He reached into the bag and produced a handful of paper strips. 'I collected bits of every ECGI did as a houseman on my cardiology run. I've got hundreds of them.' He upended the bag on her desk, then picked one out at random. 'What's this?'

Sophie peered at the trace. 'Atrial flutter,' she said confidently. 'That's easy.'

'What's the rate?'

Sophie picked up her small ECG ruler and laid it against the trace. 'Atrial rate is 300,' she said. 'Ventricular rate is 150.'

'OK.' Oliver leaned over Sophie's shoulder. 'Show me the P waves.'

'There aren't any,' Sophie smiled. 'You've got F waves—flutter waves—instead.'

'Hmm.' Oliver sifted through the pile. 'I'd better find something more challenging.' He dragged a chair close to Sophie's and then sat down, continuing his search until he had two strips to spread out in front of Sophie.

'Tell me which is left and which is right bundle branch block and what causes the differences in the traces.'

Sophie concentrated hard. Oliver was an excellent teacher. The feedback on correct responses was enthusiastic, and any prompting or correction needed was given without any hint of criticism. Sophie found she was thoroughly enjoying the session. So was Oliver.

'You know, this is a very timely refresher for me,' he told her. 'Josh and I are just talking about buying an ECG machine for St David's.'

'Are you?' Sophie was startled. It wasn't a common item for a practice this size to own due to its expense and relative lack of everyday necessity.

'Our case load is going up all the time. Especially elderly patients. They don't appreciate having to go elsewhere every time they need an ECG and Toni doesn't appreciate having to chase up all the results.'

'I suppose not.' Sophie looked worried. 'You're not thinking of turning St David's into one of these new A and E clinics, with everything under one roof and patients being seen by a different doctor every time they turn up, are you?'

Oliver smiled. 'St David's is a family practice. Always has been and always will be. Some people like the new clinics. They don't have to wait around and they don't care whether the doctor they see knows them personally. They want to purchase their health care with minimum time and fuss. Supermarket medicine.' Oliver shook his head a little sadly but then smiled again. 'St David's will always be the corner dairy.'

'I'm glad to hear that.' Sophie sighed with relief.

'Why?' Oliver's glance was curious. And rather intense.

Sophie felt instantly on edge. How could he do that with just a look? Make her body wake up and shout an awareness of his proximity that was almost overpowering.

'It's because you feel the same way I do,' Oliver stated softly, not releasing their eye contact. 'Not many people do.' He smiled gently. 'Maybe you'd like to consider staying on after you get your registration. Josh and I have decided it's time to offer a third partnership at St David's.'

Sophie ran her tongue across her suddenly dry lips. Oliver's gaze flicked down and then returned. Sophie saw his eyes darken as his pupils dilated. So much for her campaign! The undercurrent was as strong as it had ever been, even though Oliver had set his immediate goals elsewhere. Did she want to have to try coping with that on a long-term basis?

'No way!' Sophie didn't realise she had spoken the instinctive reaction aloud until she saw the surprised disappointment on Oliver's face. It was too late to modify her response to something more appropriate to turning down an attractive professional appointment. And it was far too late for her to be sitting in a room alone with Oliver Spencer.

'I think I've had enough on ECGs,' Sophie announced a little breathlessly. She started collecting the paper strips.

'Are you sure?' Oliver made no move to help her. 'We haven't done much on second- and third-degree AV block.'

'I'm sure,' Sophie said firmly. 'Enough is enough.'

The downturn gathered pace and was capped off by a visit to St David's by Christine Prescott at the end of the week. Sophie was deliberately late for morning tea, unwilling to witness Oliver's presumed delight at Christine's arrival. The drug rep was the centre of attention from the rest of the staff by the time she did force herself to enter the staffroom.

'It's a really good new lipid-lowering product.' Christine's luxurious curls bounced around her face becomingly. 'Only once a day. The majority of patients are controlled by the lowest 10 mg dose.