Doctor Knows Best (17 page)

“Thank you again for a lovely dinner,” she said, slamming the door shut.

Giles just nodded briefly in acknowledgement and then, putting the car in gear, roared off into the darkness without a backward glance.

Chapter Ten

After that evening with Giles, Fiona and Joanna, it seemed to Megan that he was avoiding her. Rubbish, it's your imagination she told herself—he has no reason to avoid you. Whatever the reason, however, their paths hardly crossed at all in the following week. He only came into the casualty area when a senior opinion was needed, and even Casualty itself was strangely quiet.

“Boring, isn't it?” said Thelma to Megan one day. “Usually I'm rushed off my feet and curse people who come in here with trivial complaints, but at the moment I'd welcome a case of sunburn!”

Megan laughed. “Welcome it? I should think we'd all be amazed by it! Particularly as it's the end of January and we haven't seen the sun for at least eight days!” She sighed. “Everything has been hidden by this depressing grey cloud and it just suits my mood.”

“Mine too,” said Thelma gloomily.

“What about your philosophy of always looking on the bright side?” asked Megan. “What has happened to that?”

“Gone down the plughole,” said Thelma, “along with the washing-up water.”

“You must get yourself a dishwasher then,” said Jamie Green as he breezed in, white coat flying behind him.

“Where have you been?” asked Megan. “I haven't seen you since the Christmas show. I kept meaning to ask where you were but I forgot.”

“Just shows how unimportant I am,” said Jamie. “And there was I, thinking that Casualty couldn't manage without me.”

“It was very difficult, dear,” said Thelma brightening. Jamie had always been one of her favourites. “How did the study leave go?” she asked. “And more importantly, how did the exam go?”

“Well, the written wasn't too bad, but I've still got the horror of the vivas to survive. Still,” he added, “if all else fails I can always be an ambulance driver, or better still a train driver. That always was my original ambition!”

Megan laughed. “You won't fail, I'm sure,” she said. For all his joking and seemingly flippant attitude, Jamie Green was an extremely serious and dedicated young doctor, and she was sure he would make it to the top.

“Better go and see the big white boss I suppose,” said Jamie. “He gave me strict instructions to report back to him after the exam, and he wants a copy of the paper.” He fished a crumpled piece of paper with printed questions on it out of his pocket.

“That's a bit mucky,” said Megan. “If you photocopy it, at least you can give Mr. Elliott a flat copy and not one that looks as if it has been used to wrap fish and chips.”

“Probably was,” said Jamie. “I don't remember much of last night. After the exam I went out on the town with some old mates of mine from medical school.” He laughed. “Do you know, one of them is still up in London—he can't remember where he left his car!”

“I don't believe you,” cried Megan and Thelma simultaneously.

“It's true,” insisted Jamie. “He had to ring his department at Northampton and tell them he was sick. He daren't say he was too drunk to remember where he had put the car.”

“I should think not,” said Megan severely. “That wouldn't go down at all well with his superiors. Here, give me that,” she took the scruffy exam paper from Jamie. “I'll pop along to the photocopier and copy it for you before you go in to see Mr. Elliott.” With the exam paper in her hand she hurried off down the corridor towards the admin block where the photocopier was located. As she passed Giles Elliott's office the door opened and he strode out. A collision was inevitable for Megan was going down the corridor fast and Giles had his head down reading some notes. As she cannoned into him Megan knocked the file from his hand, the folder split open and the patient's notes, records and letters spilled out everywhere on to the corridor floor.

Giles swore softly under his breath.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” muttered Megan in confusion, bending down to pick up the papers at the very moment Giles also bent down for the same reason. Their faces came to within an inch of each other and Megan could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek and dared not look up. If she looked into those blue eyes of his she would be lost, she knew it.

“Let's toss for it.” His deep voice sounded amused. “If we both try and pick them up we shall bang heads and end up being treated for concussion.”

Megan stood up, still not looking at him. “I'd better pick them up as it was really my fault,” she said, looking down at the floor.

“Nonsense, it was just as much my fault,” he answered. “I wasn't looking where I was going,” he laughed gently.

A secretary came out of the typists' office further down the corridor. “Oh, Mr. Elliott,” she said, “what a mess you've got those notes in!” She bent down and proceeded to pick up the papers and put them in order.

There was no reason to stay chatting any longer and Megan felt suddenly shy. It was his eyes; she felt sure he could read every chaotic thought that was tumbling through her head.

“I'd better be about my business,” she muttered and started to walk down the corridor, acutely aware that he was standing watching her. She could feel his gaze on her back almost like a physical pressure. Thank goodness I wear tights and not seamed stockings like Thelma, she thought feverishly. At least I know I haven't got crooked seams!

As she turned the corner into the admin block she breathed a huge sigh of relief. She hadn't seen him for days, then all it had needed was a brief encounter for her to feel like a lovesick sixteen-year-old again. She slapped the exam paper angrily against her side. You are stupid, Megan Jones, she told herself. It's just no good, you have got to stop caring about him. Although even as she was giving herself such good sensible advice she knew it was futile. She might just as well have been King Canute trying to hold back the waves.

She didn't see Giles again that day. Although she knew he was in his office because she could hear his voice every time she walked past, he didn't emerge again. As she went off duty that night Megan thought of the next two days ahead. Two whole days off, plus the weekend. Normally she looked forward to the times when she had a nice long stretch of off-duty. It didn't happen too often as she usually worked a normal week, Monday to Friday, but every now and then, because time off had accrued, she was able to have extra leave.

This particular time, however, she viewed the forthcoming four days with anything but enthusiasm. She knew she had to fill in the hours with activity, otherwise her mind would be filled with thoughts of Giles Elliott. That wretched man, she thought angrily, but she was angry with herself, not him.

After she had changed out of her uniform and had a coffee, she suddenly made up her mind on the spur of the moment to drive back down to Devon to see her mother. Better ring her, I suppose, she thought as she flung a few things into a suitcase, knowing Mrs. Jones would appreciate some advance notice.

Her mother was delighted, if a little surprised, at the unexpected prospect of having her daughter home for four days. “It will be lovely to have you to myself, dear,” she said. “We can have a good long chat, like we used to in the old days.” She paused a moment. “There's nothing wrong, is there, dear?”

“No, of course not,” answered Megan brightly. “I don't come often enough. I'm just making the most of an unexpected opportunity. Is it all right if I drive down tonight?” she added.

“Tonight!” Her mother was surprised. “Well, all right, dear, if that's what you want to do. I'll have supper waiting for you and we'll have it in the kitchen together in front of the old wood stove. I lit it today for a change; I must have had a premonition that you were coming!”

Megan's face brightened at the thought of sitting in the big old kitchen in front of the stove. She had always done that as a child, only then everything had seemed so cosy and secure. No disturbing thoughts of a tall dark man to trouble her serenity in those far-off days.

The journey down was quicker than Megan had expected. The roads were almost completely traffic free and it seemed no time at all before she was sitting with her mother and sipping home-made broth in front of the warm stove.

Megan wriggled her toes comfortably towards the heat. “This is lovely,” she said. “Sitting here like this makes me think I must be mad existing in that wretched little room at the hospital. I must do something about moving out.”

“Where will you move to?” asked her mother practically.

“Oh, I don't know. Perhaps I'll try to get a small mortgage on something when this house is paid for—that's not long now.”

Her mother snorted. “The prices they ask these days for houses is ridiculous. All you would be able to afford would be a little tiny box on an estate, and somehow I don't think you'd like that.”

“At least I'd have a little more room,” protested Megan.

“A little, but not much,” said her mother decisively, and Megan knew she was right. She would never be able to afford anything spacious. “Anyway,” Mrs. Jones continued, “Why buy something yourself? You will probably get married one day and you can pool some of your money with your husband and buy a better house.”

Megan sighed and pushed her empty plate away on the scrubbed wood of the kitchen table. Then she stretched slowly and luxuriously in the warmth from the stove. “Mum,” she said sleepily, “if I wait until I get married, I'll still be living in that hospital room when I'm ninety.”

“No you won't,” said her mother, ever practical. “You'll have to retire at sixty!”

Megan laughed and reached over and patted her affectionately on the knee. “I'll be living in some retired nurses' home then,” she said, “in an equally depressing little room.”

“Oh, Megan,” said her mother crossly, “you
are
silly! Of
course
you'll get married.”

“Nobody has asked me yet,” pointed out Megan, “and you do need a man in the picture somewhere; it's essential, you know.”

“There is one in the picture already,” said her mother. “Only you don't seem to be doing much to encourage him.”

“What do you mean?” asked Megan, looking at her, her large, expressive brown eyes startled.

“I mean Giles Elliott of course,” said Mrs. Jones. “It's quite obvious he is more than a little interested in you, but you don't seem to help—you blow hot and cold where he is concerned.”

“
I
certainly don't blow hot and cold,” said Megan quickly, “
he
…” She stopped. She had been about to blurt out the fact that he was the one who seemed to blow hot and cold, but then that would be admitting that she was still in love with him. “His sister-in-law, Fiona, seems to be very much in the picture,” she said calmly. “I'm afraid you have got the wrong idea where he is concerned.”

“I don't think so,” said her mother stubbornly, “I always go by my intuition.”

“Mum,” said Megan wearily, “we have discussed him before, remember? And we ended up arguing, so don't let's do it again.”

Het mother looked obstinate and for a moment Megan thought she was going to pursue the subject, but then she smiled and squeezed Megan's hand. “You're right,” she said. “Come on, it's late, time for bed for both of us. Of course,” she added casually, “there is one lesson to be learned from Giles Elliott.”

Megan frowned; what was she getting at? “What?” she asked.

“It's a great mistake to marry young. I hope Richard thinks of that and gets over his crush on Joanna.”

Megan laughed. “I shouldn't worry about Richard, he's got his head screwed on the right way—and anyway, how do you know Giles married young?”

“He told me,” said her mother airily. “Of course, they were both students at the time and I gather she was pregnant.”

Megan stared at her. “You mean his wife?” she said.

“Of course I mean his wife,” said her mother. “Who else is Joanna's mother?”

“Oh!” Megan choked back the feeling of resentment that rose within her. Why should she resent the fact that they had found pleasure in each other before marriage? It was none of her business, but somehow it hurt her more than she dare admit to herself. “I'm off to bed then,” she said, forcing a bright smile to her lips. “Goodnight, Mum.” She made her way up the polished oak stairs to her room before her mother could shatter her with any more revelations.

She lay in bed, miserable tears trickling down her cheeks and soaking the fine linen of the pillowcase. Stop it, you fool, she whispered to herself. You are behaving totally irrationally. It doesn't matter what happened in his life before, it's now that matters. That was the trouble though. Fiona was there to remind him, and he was so attractive surely,
surely
Giles must be drawn to her, and not only because they had a common bond in the care of Joanna. Even though they obviously did argue, Megan felt that Fiona had a hold over Giles, a power, something she couldn't quite understand, and certainly something she would never have.

She fished out a clean handkerchief from underneath her pillow. Rather the opposite, she thought ruefully, blowing her nose vigorously. He is the one who has the hold; he holds you in the palm of his hand like a malleable piece of clay. Oh Giles, I do love you and I wish I didn't, she murmured as at last she fell into a troubled and disturbed sleep.

Next day Megan and her mother decided to drive into Exeter and do some shopping, although Mrs. Jones did ask her daughter if she wanted to go. “You look quite peaky, dear,” she said, looking at her with concern. “Are you all right?”

“Perhaps I've got a cold coming,” said Megan. Her eyes did look a bit pink she knew, and a cold was a good excuse. “The fresh air will do me good.”

They had a lovely morning and ended up staying for lunch at a little restaurant in an ancient building alongside the cathedral. Megan was thankful that her mother didn't mention Giles Elliott again, and she was careful to keep the conversation well away from anything to do with the hospital. Mrs. Jones, for her part, seemed more than content to chatter on, making sure that Megan caught up with all the local gossip.