Runaway Sister (2 page)

“You know,” said Jennie slowly as she looked at Samantha, “I shall never understand why Steve threw you over for that spotty female he's going to marry now.”

Samantha couldn't help laughing in spite of herself. “Looks aren't everything,” she replied, “and if he's really in love with her he won't even notice the spots.”

“Huh!” snorted Jennie disparagingly. “The trouble with Steve is he didn't know a good woman when he had one.”

“Don't worry about it, Jennie,” said Samantha gently. “I'll get over it, especially with friends like you around. It just wasn't meant to be, that's all.”

“What are you doing tonight?” asked Jennie, abruptly changing the subject.

Samantha flopped down into the chair opposite her friend; suddenly her brave words had fallen into a vacuum. What was she going to do tonight? She certainly didn't feel like going back to her flat. Steve was collecting his hi-fi, and she didn't particularly want to watch him pack up his belongings that had accumulated there over the years.

“I don't know,” she replied slowly, “I hadn't given it any thought until now.”

“Well, I'll tell you what you're going to do,” said Jennie decisively. “There's a party tonight down on Roger's barge. Tommy Smart is leaving, as you know, and there's been an impromptu party organized for him. So you're coming to that with John and me.”

“Thanks for the thought,” said Samantha with a noticeable lackluster enthusiasm, “but I don't think I'll take you up on it. I'm not exactly in the party mood.”

“Well, what are you going to do, then?” demanded Jennie.

“I don't know,” admitted Samantha miserably, all her previous philosophical thoughts slipping slowly down the drain along with the last gurgling remnants of the shower water.

“There you are then,” said Jennie. “I'm not taking no for an answer, you're coming with us, so it's no use arguing,” she added as Samantha opened her mouth to protest.

“OK, I'll come,” agreed Samantha. “I might as well face everyone in one fell swoop, then they can gossip about Steve jilting me for a couple of days and then forget all about it.” It would not be easy for her, she knew, in spite of her brave thoughts and resolutions earlier.

Jennie stood up triumphantly; she had accomplished what she had set out to do. “Right,” she said, “when you're dry come over to my flat in the nurses' home, we'll go straight from there. Although we'll have a quick coffee and a sandwich before we go,” she added as she went through the door.

Samantha stood up to go across to a cubicle to change when suddenly the door opened again and Jennie's head popped round. “By the way, there's going to be lashings of food tonight—Georgie's organizing it, and she's fantastic where food is concerned.” She withdrew her head, grinning widely, and was gone.

Samantha couldn't help laughing aloud; that was why Jennie was inclined to overweight, she loved her food and made no secret of the fact. She toweled herself dry and changed into her off-duty clothes, well-cut grey slacks and a blue and grey chunky-knit sweater. The blue in the sweater picked up the brilliant blue of her eyes, flattering her delicate coloring. She hadn't been planning to go to a party, it was true, but luckily the clothes she had worn in that morning to work were perfectly suitable, especially for an informal party on a barge, when the night air on the canal was inclined to get chilly. Although she knew from past experience that if Roger's previous parties were anything to go by, the interior of the barge would be crammed to overflowing. It always amazed her that the old barge managed to remain afloat.

When she had dried her hair she tied it back loosely in a ponytail, giving her the look of a demure seventeen-year-old, rather than the twenty-seven-year-old experienced Sister midwife she was in reality.

In no time at all she and Jennie were squashed into John's car, speeding away from the hospital to the old canal on the outskirts of the town. It was rather a squash because John's car was a TR7 and only a two-seater.

“Good job you're not as well endowed as Jennie here,” remarked John, giving Jennie's knee an affectionate pat, “otherwise we should have never fitted in.”

“I shouldn't be here at all,” said Samantha; she was beginning to feel wretched again. “You know what they say, two's company, three's a crowd.”

“What a load of rubbish you do talk,” replied John. “You know perfectly well I shouldn't have taken you if I hadn't wanted to, so stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

Samantha craned her head to look past Jennie at him in surprise. “You're the second person to tell me that today,” she said. “Only you've been more polite about it.”

“Oh, really?” said Jennie, curiosity in her voice. “Who was the other sensible person?”

“Mr. High-and-Mighty Adam Shaw,” replied Samantha curtly, “and I told him to mind his own business!”

Jennie laughed, “I can imagine that went down like a lead balloon!”

Samantha didn't reply. Her mind was retracing the heated exchange of words she had had with Adam Shaw; the more she thought about it, the more she thought what a colossal nerve he had. It was no business of his whatsoever, in fact when she came to think of it again, his very first remark about her rearing a family of her own had been a cheek! She wondered if he took such an inquisitive interest in everybody else's affairs, although from his later remark about showing her what all-conquering passion was about, she couldn't help suspecting that he was probably a male chauvinist pig who thought any woman's problems could be put right by going to bed with a man!

Samantha snorted to herself in disgust. Although she had been engaged to Steve for four years he had been the only man in her life. She had never been unfaithful to him, it wasn't in her nature, and she wasn't going to start being promiscuous now, just because she was alone. Although she knew this was a problem she would have to face, as Adam Shaw had so rightly said, nothing was private in a hospital. It was such a close, enclosed community that everyone knew everything about everyone else, particularly if they lived on the hospital site, and Samantha knew she would be fair game now for quite a few junior doctors who would think they could take over where Steve had left off. Well, she would have to scotch that idea well and truly as soon as possible. She had positively no intention of becoming romantically involved with anyone else for some time. Once bitten, twice shy, she meditated a trifle sourly.

Perhaps Adam Shaw had been right about one thing, perhaps she had taken the easy way out with Steve. Now she would wait for that all-conquering passion, as he put it, to attract her to a man, but Samantha knew that for her it had to come hand in hand with a genuine love. The last thing she wanted was sex just for the sake of it.

“Penny for your thoughts!” Jennie's voice broke into her reverie.

Samantha smiled wryly in the darkness of the car. “Oh, I was thinking I shall have to be wary of the hospital gigolos, now that I'm on my own.”

Jennie snorted. “Send them away with a flea in their ears, then they won't come back—that's what I always do.”

“You weren't very successful with me,” came John's laughing remark.

“You're not a gigolo, and never have been,” said Jennie severely, “otherwise you most certainly would have been sent off with a flea in your ear!”

Samantha laughed. John and Jennie always bickered in a good-natured way. They were an ideally suited couple and she wondered why they had not married, as they had been going out with one another for over a year, but she had never liked to ask her friend such a personal question. She knew that if and when they made up their minds to marry, she would be one of the first to know.

They arrived suddenly beside the canal and John parked the car underneath the overhanging trees. It was early spring, but the trees were already in quite heavy leaf, making the lane beside the canal dark and shadowy.

“I wouldn't fancy coming up here on my own,” remarked Jennie as they clambered out of the car. “Bit spooky around here, with all the lights from the boats on the canal—it looks like something out of a film set. I can just imagine a murder being done here.”

“An overactive imagination, that's what you've got,” replied John matter-of-factly as he locked the car doors. “Come on, you two. How you can say it's spooky,” he said turning to Jennie, “with all that racket from Roger's boat, I just can't imagine.”

Samantha agreed. “Pop music blaring out at goodness knows how many decibels isn't exactly spooky,” she remarked.

Roger's boat was a blaze of lights and as Samantha had remarked, the music was turned up to an earsplitting level, but even so the sound of people laughing and talking and the clink of glasses could be heard. Samantha hoped the music wasn't going to be that loud all the time; in her present frame of mind she knew it wouldn't take much to give her a splitting headache.

She lost her nerve and felt like turning and running away. It had been a ghastly mistake to come. Everyone would be jolly and laughing, and she didn't feel in the least like being jolly and laughing, and it was going to be one hell of an effort to pretend she did. But it was too late; she was there, no way could she escape now. It was with a heavy heart that she crossed the wooden gangplank across the murky, still water of the canal and climbed down the few wooden steps into the barge.

A cacophony of sound hit them like a physical force as they stepped into the interior of the barge. Roger saw them enter and waved cheerily at them as he came over.

“What will you have to drink?” he shouted above the deafening noise from the hi-fi.

“God, this is too noisy, Roger,” complained John, never one to mince his words.

“Is it?” Roger looked surprised, his ears had obviously grown accustomed to it. “Well, go and have a word with Duncan over there, he's in charge of the sound tonight.”

“I certainly will,” said John, marching off purposefully in Duncan's direction.

“Now, girls, what will you have?” continued Roger. “There's red or white plonk, a rather dubious punch with a hefty kick to it made by me, and the usual assortment of martinis and vermouths, etc.”

Both Jennie and Samantha opted for white wine; they had been to Roger's parties before and when he said the punch had a hefty kick it was usually an understatement. It meant having a hangover for about a week afterwards.

John returned to them, a glass of lager in his hand. He had succeeded in persuading Duncan to turn the music down a little, but not much.

“You'd never think he intends to make ENT his specialty,” grumbled John. “You would think he'd know what damage that noise must be doing to everyone's eardrums.”

“He's very young,” replied Samantha, excusing Duncan, who was an extremely likeable if a trifle overenthusiastic young man. “Young people always seem to like their music loud.”

“What do you mean, young?” queried John indignantly. “We're not geriatric yet, I might remind you. Although if Duncan has his way we shall all be needing hearing aids before we reach the age of thirty.”

“Oh, John, you do exaggerate!” laughed Jennie.

“What's that you're saying, m'dear?” quavered John in an old man's voice, cupping his hand around his ear.

“You heard,” replied Jennie, giving him an affectionate thump in the stomach.

The barge was becoming more and more crowded by the minute as droves of people from the hospital began to arrive. Suddenly Samantha was aware of two of John's friends whom she only knew slightly bearing down on them.

“Congratulations, you two,” they boomed. “Best news we've heard this year! When is the happy day actually going to be?”

Samantha looked at Jennie, puzzled. What were they talking about? Jennie shuffled uneasily and looked at her feet, and John for once was strangely silent.

“What are they congratulating you two about?” asked Samantha, although in her heart she was pretty sure she already knew.

“Oh, Samantha.” Jennie was near to tears. “I wanted to be able to tell you first. But when I came round to your flat last night to tell you, Steve had just told you that everything was off between you two, and somehow it just didn't seem the right time to break the news to you.”

“Oh, Jennie, John, I'm so glad for you!” Samantha flung her arms round them both and hugged them. “Of course, I can see you felt awkward last night, but you shouldn't today. That was yesterday, today is another day. Here's to you both.” She raised her glass in salute to them.

John mopped his brow. “Thank goodness you know at last! Jennie was afraid it would upset you, coming right on top of your own bad luck.”

Samantha forced a laugh; it sounded hard and brittle in her ears, but it appeared to fool everyone around her. “It's not bad luck, it had to come sooner or later. I wish Steve every happiness, and as for me—off with the old, on with the new, as they say.”

Jennie looked a little suspiciously at her as they all sipped their wine. This wasn't the Samantha she knew.

“But who will the new be?” came a deep voice from behind Samantha that she recognized in an instant. Startled, she spun round to meet the mocking gaze of Adam Shaw's slate-grey eyes. She hadn't expected him to be here, it was mostly junior hospital doctors, not consultants.

“I didn't think you'd be here,” she blurted out without thinking.

“Why not? I was invited. I've known Tommy Smart for about ten years, so I think I'm entitled to come to his send-off.”

“Oh yes…why, of course,” stammered Samantha, at a loss for words. His eyes seemed to bore right through her, she had an uncanny feeling that he could read every thought in her head, and it gave her an extremely uncomfortable feeling.

“Do you know Jennie and John?” She rattled the words out quickly, desperate for something to say, something that would take Adam Shaw's eyes away from her.