Runaway Sister (10 page)

“There is,” she said, “I know it. Now go on, you've got to tell me all about it.”

Samantha sighed. She would have to tell Jennie something to satisfy her, but it was not possible to tell her the bitter truth. “There might have been something,” she said slowly, “in different circumstances. But there isn't, and if you're my true friend you won't speak about this to anyone else.” She lowered her eyes to her plate, toying with the remaining food. “To tell you the truth, Jennie, I can't take any more from any man at the moment.” She managed a wan grin. “You could say I'm right off men!”

“Oh, Samantha!” Jennie was immediately concerned for her friend. “Of course I won't mention it to a soul. You poor thing, you've had a rotten time lately. Perhaps it's better that you should go abroad, where you'll fall in love with some millionaire who'll shower you with diamonds.”

Samantha had to burst out laughing. “Jennie,” she exploded, “you have the most vivid imagination! I don't think I'm ever likely to meet any millionaires. The only people I meet are pregnant females!”

Jennie nodded. “Yes, that's true. In our line of work meetings with the opposite sex are usually confined to anxious husbands.”

She wasn't sure whether she had managed to persuade Jennie that there was nothing between her and Adam Shaw, but Jennie seemed to forget about him and carried on chattering, imparting other tidbits of hospital gossip.

By some miracle Samantha managed to avoid a meeting with Adam Shaw for the rest of the week. She was very busy, as they had a new batch of student midwives just starting, and he was doing extra gyne operating sessions as one of the other consultants was away on holiday. It couldn't have been more convenient from Samantha's point of view. At least that's got one week over with, she thought at the end of the week, with some satisfaction.

The only thing that was worrying her more than a little, although she denied it vigorously when Jennie enquired about it, was the fact that she still hadn't managed to fix herself up with another job. She had decided that if the worst came to the worst, she would go to London and stay with a friend and do agency work—not something she relished but at least it would keep the wolf from the door.

She was very pleased, therefore, when the following Monday Miss MacKenzie suggested that she and Samantha should have lunch together, as she had something to tell her.

They met and took their lunch to a secluded table in the canteen. Miss MacKenzie looked at Samantha for a moment, with a curious expression in her eyes.

Samantha could stand the suspense no longer. “Well?” she asked. “Have you got any good news for me?”

“It depends,” replied Miss MacKenzie slowly, “on whether or not you like the proposition I'm about to put to you.”

Samantha looked at her, wanting to say, “For goodness' sake, spit it out, woman,” but she contained her impatience and waited quietly.

“There's an Englishwoman I know,” said Miss MacKenzie, “who's married to a Greek—well, a Corfiot, to be exact. They're very rich and live in a beautiful villa on the island of Corfu. She's expecting her first child and they're both determined that it will be born on Corfu, and that she'll have the baby at home in their villa, by natural childbirth.”

Samantha looked puzzled. “But how does that affect me?” she asked. “Surely they don't want a private midwife to be flown out from England?”

“That's exactly what they do want,” said Miss MacKenzie. “The baby is due at the end of October, and they want someone to be with her from the end of May, which is now, until the baby arrives in October. I understand the antenatal care there is very sketchy, to say the least, and they want a competent midwife, and also someone young enough to be her companion during the last months of pregnancy.”

Samantha frowned slightly. “But it sounds like a holiday more than a job,” she protested. “It's hardly nursing, is it?”

“Well, I did say you might not like the proposition,” said Miss MacKenzie. “Of course, what you must remember is that you would be undertaking an enormous responsibility. If anything goes wrong with the birth the nearest maternity hospital is Athens, and that's nearly three-quarters of an hour away by plane. So although you wouldn't exactly be rushed off your feet, it would be up to you and you alone to monitor the pregnancy closely, call for help if you thought it was needed, and if all goes well, to deliver the baby alone—knowing that when you get to a certain point you won't be able to get help, even if you need it.”

“Yes,” said Samantha slowly, “I see what you mean.”

“Of course,” went on Miss MacKenzie quickly, “the young woman is very fit and healthy, otherwise they wouldn't entertain the idea of her having the baby on Corfu alone, they could afford the very best in private hospitals. She's just had a thorough checkup here and everything is absolutely fine.”

Samantha thought for a few moments. Five months on the Greek island of Corfu, with just one pregnant woman to look after. She ought to be able to manage that—besides, she had always wanted to visit the island and had never got around to taking a holiday there. This way, she could kill two birds with one stone; she could get away from Adam Shaw, and visit a place she had always wanted to see.

“Yes,” she said positively, “I'll take the position if they'll have me.”

Miss MacKenzie looked slightly startled at Samantha's prompt decision. “Are you sure you don't want a day or two to think about it?” she asked. “It will be quite a different sort of life for you, not at all like hospital, you know.”

“No, my mind is made up,” replied Samantha. “If they'll have me, I will be delighted to go.”

“Without even asking how much you'll get paid?” asked Miss MacKenzie, raising her eyebrows.

Samantha laughed. “I presume I'll have my keep,” she said, “so I'm not unduly worried about the pay. I don't mind taking a drop in salary.”

“Well, it won't be exactly that,” replied Miss MacKenzie, and when she told Samantha the salary she gasped in surprise.

“But it's much more than I earn now,” she said, “and I won't be doing so much work.”

“That's what they're willing to pay for someone of high caliber, and I've had no hesitation in recommending you,” said Miss MacKenzie. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go and set the necessary wheels in motion.” She rose and started to collect her lunch tray.

Suddenly Samantha realized that everything had been decided so quickly, she didn't even know her new employer's name. “What's her name?” she asked, reaching out and touching Miss MacKenzie on the arm, “and how did you get to know about her?”

It seemed to her that Miss MacKenzie regarded her very strangely for a moment or two before she eventually replied. Then she said, “Her name is Valerie Aftias, and her husband's name is Dennis.”

She started to walk towards the conveyor belt where the used trays were deposited at the exit to the canteen, but Samantha grabbed her own tray and caught up with her. “Yes, but you still haven't told me how you got to know about this particular job.”

Miss MacKenzie hesitated again, then said quickly, “Through my various contacts in the obstetric world, of course.” Her tone of voice was strangely final, and Samantha didn't dare to ask her anything more.

Late that afternoon, as she was catching up with some paperwork in her office, Samantha pondered over Miss MacKenzie's strange reticence over the source of her information.
I wonder if there's a catch,
she thought, idly chewing the end of her pencil, but then she put the thought from her mind. No, she knew she could trust Miss MacKenzie, she wouldn't suggest a job to her that was unsuitable.

When she told Jennie later in the week where she was going and what she was going to do, she was positively green with envy.

“Five months on Corfu—you lucky, lucky devil!” she said, sighing heavily. “While I'll be stuck here all the summer and it will probably rain all the time.”

“But you're getting married in the autumn,” pointed out Samantha.

“Yes,” agreed Jennie, “but I've never been to Corfu.”

“You could always go there for your honeymoon,” suggested Samantha.

“John's already booked somewhere, as a surprise,” said Jennie. Then she cheered up. “I'm not really supposed to know, but I think we're going on the Orient Express to Venice.” Her eyes sparkled at the thought of it.

“And you're envying me working in Corfu,” said Samantha. “Honestly, Jennie, how could you!”

“I know I'm very lucky really,” agreed Jennie. “It's just that what you're going to do sounds so different from the usual hospital routine.”

“Well, just keep your fingers crossed,” said Samantha, “and hope that Valerie Aftias and I get on well together. If we don't I can see that life could be rather difficult.”

“Oh, you will,” Jennie replied. “You're so easy to get on with, Samantha.”

Two whole weeks had passed and she had still managed to avoid Adam Shaw. Several times she had almost bumped into him, but she had always managed to occupy herself in such a way that it was not possible for him to speak to her alone. For his part he hadn't sought her out, even though he had said two weeks previously that he had wanted to speak to her alone.

Samantha wouldn't admit to herself that she was disappointed that he hadn't made any effort to see her.
After all, why should he?
she asked herself. She had well and truly finished anything there might have been between them by slapping him on the face and telling him never to touch her again. She couldn't blame him for keeping his distance.

So it was with some surprise that she looked up early one morning when she was walking through the hospital towards the labor ward and saw him standing in the corridor, evidently waiting for her.

“Do you have a few moments?” he asked. His voice was expressionless—not unfriendly, but definitely not friendly either.

“Yes, a few moments,” Samantha replied, her voice echoing the tone of his.

“I'll come into your office, then,” he said.

Samantha made no reply, but when they walked into her office, she opened the door for him and motioned him to the seat by her desk which he took, then leaving the door wide open she sat down herself.

Adam raised his dark eyebrows in a sardonic quirk, “Who don't you trust?” he asked. “Yourself or me?”

“It's not a question of trust,” answered Samantha as steadily as she could, and trying to ignore the pounding of her heart. “It's just that it seems a pointless exercise closing the door, when you're only staying a few moments…” she paused, then added, “…as you said yourself.”

She rustled some papers together unnecessarily on her desk, taking the opportunity to lower her lashes and avoid his penetrating gaze. Even though he was several feet away from her, his presence was physically disturbing. She was annoyed with herself for not being able to control her wayward heart, which was pounding uncontrollably against her ribs.

He got up and slowly walked towards the door. Samantha stood up, thinking that he was going to leave the office but he didn't. Quietly and deliberately, he closed the door and leaned against it facing her, the look in his eyes challenging her to object.

Nervously Samantha sat down again. Damn the man, she couldn't think straight when he was around! “What was it you wanted to see me about?” she asked, hoping he hadn't noticed the falter in her voice.

“Miss MacKenzie tells me you're so upset over your broken engagement that you're leaving and taking a job abroad,” he said, coming straight to the point.

“I'm leaving and taking a job abroad, certainly,” agreed Samantha.

“And is it because you wish to escape from painful memories of your fiancé?” he insisted.

She began to feel angry and looked up, only to be confronted by a relentless gaze that seemed to bore right into her very soul.

“It's none of your business why I'm leaving,” she snapped. “Suffice it to say I am. Now, if you'll excuse me…” She pulled a tray full of notes towards her as if she were about to start work.

She was aware of rather than saw Adam move across the room towards her. The next thing she knew he was leaning across the desk, his face very close to hers. The smell of his aftershave and the fresh clean smell of his skin brought back memories of that night, not so long ago, when she was in his arms, reveling in that heady masculine odor.

It was with a great effort of self-control that she steeled herself to look at him. “Will you please go?” she said in a low voice. “I have work to do.”

“I should like to know where you're going,” he persisted. “Just to set my mind at rest that you're going somewhere suitable.”

Samantha's self-control broke. “It's none of your damn business!” she yelled, slamming her fist down hard on the table. “I don't need your approval for what I do or where I go. Get out of my office!”

It was Adam's turn to get angry. “Don't shout at me!” he grated harshly. “You're far too temperamental for your own good!”

That was the final straw as far as Samantha was concerned. How dared he tell her what was good for her and what wasn't good for her!

“I shall shout as much and as often as I like,” she said, not lowering her voice one iota, “and if you don't get out of my office I'll…”

“You'll what?” enquired Adam, an amused note creeping into his voice.

“I'll…I'll…” Samantha sat down. “Oh, get out, please,” she said at last, lowering her voice in defeat.

He leaned forward farther across the desk and grasping her chin between forefinger and thumb tipped her face so that she was forced to meet his gaze.

“Don't think you've seen the last of me, Sister Roberts,” he said ominously. Then he kissed her briefly but firmly full on the mouth as if to emphasize his remark.