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'I enjoyed the change,' she said.

The sun, now low in the sky, made patterns on his
shirt through the coloured panels of the upper door, reflecting on Anna's face. She could hear him breathing, or was it herself, or was it the atmosphere sighing between them? Would he kiss her again...? He didn't... He opened the door, and everything changed to sunlight and glare and formality once more. 'Goodnight, Anna.'

'Night.' She passed him, nearly stepping on his toes; forced herself to walk sedately over to her car; forced herself to get inside and switch the engine on.

As she drove off she could see him in her mirror, moving and going in. She felt regret and relief, with pain intermixed, and a terrible dragging ache. She mustn't put herself in the position of being alone with him again. It's not that I don't trust him, she thought, so much as I don't trust myself. I could fall in love with him very easily, but in no way will I get serious with a man who shies away from personal commitment—who simply wants an affair of short duration with the kind of woman who won't care when they part. Almost unbidden, the striking figure of Julia Trafford sprang into her mind. Women like her were the sort he needed to offset the rigours of work.

The
agency nurse who presented herself to Anna on Wednesday morning was small, blonde and blue-eyed, with a face like a Barbie doll. Ornamental but useless was Anna's first thought, but by lunchtime she'd revised this opinion for Shirley Dobson was a hard worker, deft and professional. She'd nursed gynae patients before, so needed little or no supervision, and she got on with everyone.

Anna knew that Simon was; unlikely to put in an appearance, for he had a full theatre list, including— from Maternity—two Caesarean sections as Bill was on leave. Meg did an early round before joining him in Theatre, but she gave the OK for Mrs Cole to be allowed out of bed, much to the latter's relief.

'At
last,'
she said, sitting painfully but happily on her commode, 'and after this I'll walk as far as the desk and back.' This she did, supported by May Fenn—who told Anna afterwards that she wasn't quite so chipper on the return journey; all she had wanted was bed.

Jill Pearson, the perinotomy, was discharged during afternoon visiting, and a new patient with incontinence after childbirth was admitted at four o'clock. Anna was just welcoming her into the ward when Shirley came to tell her that Mr Easter would like a word with her in the office. .. 'He's waiting there now and, Sister—' her blue eyes bulged '—isn't he just
terrif.'

'Terrif.' Anna's heart gave a jump then, leaving Mrs Greer in Shirley's care, she made her way swiftly to the office.

He had his back to her when she went in. He was looking out of the window, which didn't afford much of a view as a thick sea mist was spoiling both the temperature and the outlook, whilst the fog horn on the harbour wall hooted incessantly. Hearing her step, he turned, then came, towards her and closed the door.

'Anna, I have to ask this,' he said, without greeting her, 'but did you, when attending to Mrs Paterson last night, happen to notice if she was wearing a sapphire ring?'

The question was so unexpected that she stared at him for a second or two, trying to gather her thoughts. She couldn't even remember, during those seconds, who Mrs Paterson was, then memory swung in and she shook her head. 'No, I don't think so,' she said.

'She rang me last night,' he went on, 'after you'd left; said that her ring was missing, and had I or my nurse seen it when we were clearing up?'

'She was loaded with rings—I didn't notice one in particular,' Anna said, bringing to mind Mrs Paterson's thick, stubby hands. 'And I certainly didn't find one lying around, or I'd have mentioned it at the time.'

'Of course,' he said heavily, staring down at the carpet, 'and, needless to say, I looked everywhere—in the bin where you put the sheets, in the autoclave, all over the floor, down the stairs and out in the drive. She made a fine fuss when I rang her and carefully suggested that she might have been mistaken—might not have had it on. In fact, she was rude to the point of being downright offensive...'

'Suggesting, perhaps, that your "new girl'' might have slipped it in her pocket?' Anna queried with a flash of insight, because, of course, that was exactly and precisely what Mrs Paterson had said—the embarrassed look on Simon's face was telling her that.

And before he could speak—or perhaps because he didn't speak at once—instead of just standing there and looking ill at ease she weighed in with, 'And as you don't know me all that well, perhaps you're wondering that yourself; wondering if I'm to be trusted out of an NHS ward! Well, if that's the...'

She got no further for, with one swift movement, he was gripping her arms, fingers biting hard as steel, and half shaking her.

'For God's sake, Anna, I'd trust you with
my life!'
His mouth grazed her face, and for a fraction of a second she felt his lips on her cheek before he released her and went swiftly from the room.

The silence, when he'd gone, was absolute, and within it Anna stood rubbing her arms, and glorying...yes, glorying, in his words. He would trust her with his life... trust her with his life! It was the ultimate in compliments, and he'd meant it, he'd meant it; he'd left no room for doubt.

Oh, thank you, Mrs Paterson, for being such a cow and trying to blacken my name for if you hadn't he'd never have said what he did—and as for your ring I expect you'll find it somewhere, and even if you don't I simply don't care, except inasmuch as its loss worries Simon, of course.

Next day, Thursday, just before lunch, Miss Benson— having recovered from her gastric disorder—rang Anna on the ward. 'I was told Mr Easter was in Theatre, Sister, and I wondered if, at the first opportunity, you could give him a message from me.' Her voice floated clearly into Anna's ear.

'Of course.' Anna reached for a pad.

'It's not a medical matter; it's about Mrs Paterson's ring. I expect Mr Easter mentioned it to you.'

'That it was lost... Yes, he did.'

'Well, it's found; she found it herself in her soiled linen basket. Apparently, when she got home from her appointment she showered and changed and must have got the ring caught up in something... Anyway,, it's found.' Miss Benson sounded slightly scathing and Anna didn't blame her.

'I'm glad for Si-- for Mr Easter's sake,' she said, and went on to enquire how Miss Benson was feeling, and was told that she was 'weak but willing and well able to cope'.

Anna laughed, beginning to warm to her—especially when she took the trouble to thank Anna for doing her job the evening before. 'I know everything was a bit of a mess, but I had to leave in a hurry.'

'I enjoyed the change from ward work.'

'You and I ought to meet; perhaps have coffee in the town some time when we're both of us free.'

'I'd like that,' Anna agreed, and knew that she spoke the truth. When Miss Benson suggested the following Saturday week she said yes straight away. They'd have much in common...well, Simon in common, and quite aside from that, it would be good to meet and exchange views with someone completely new.

During the afternoon Anna went down to Theatres with a twenty-one-year-old patient, due for laparotomy. In all probability she would see Simon, she thought, and she could give him Miss Benson's message. Not even to herself would she admit that this was an excuse to run into him. He had been concerned about the missing ring, and she could set his mind at rest.

The theatre suite looked very much the same as all theatre suites. The staff were milling around in various grades and shades of apparel, the nurses in mob-caps, and wearing clogs—the most cool and comfortable footwear
when standing for long hours. Anna, walking alongside the trolley, put on overshoes when she passed into the 'clean' area of the anaesthetic room.

'Hello, Mrs Burnham.' John Fell, the anaesthetist, smiled down at the patient. 'Just a little prick in the back of your hand, then the next thing you'll know is waking up in the recovery room and pretty soon after that you'll be back in your own bed in the ward.'

'Good,' she said faintly, too far gone from the pre-med to care very much either way.

Standing behind the anaesthetic nurse and feeling a little 'spare', Anna was hailed by Meg who appeared from the theatre side of the room. 'It's not often we see you down here, Sister.' She smiled behind her mask.

'True.' Anna was about to explain just as, through in the theatre itself, she spotted Simon in a pale blue operating suit—a replica of Meg's—standing with his back to one of the nurses, who was tying the tapes of his mask.

With his fawn hair obscured by his cap, he looked a different person or was it, perhaps, that he seemed different in this closed environment? Behind him, Anna could see the theatre team standing in position, waiting for the patient to be wheeled through. I shouldn't have come, she thought with a flash of panic just as Simon came to the door.

'Nothing wrong, I hope?' When he raised his eyebrows they touched the rim of his cap. There was an aura of impatience about him, and she could hear her voice faltering as she delivered her message which sounded so puerile, even comic, that it was a wonder no one laughed.

'Just as I thought.' Simon's eyes were on John Fell, who was intubating the patient. 'Ready when you are, John,' he said in muffled tones, walking back into the
theatre, followed by Meg and two ODOs, one of whom gave Anna a thumbs-up sign.

I should have had more sense than to have come, Anna fumed, flinging off her overshoes in the 'dirty' corridor and going back to the ward. What had she expected, or anticipated—a meaningful look above his mask, grateful thanks for sparing the time to deliver the message herself? I should have left it until he came up to the ward, and if he didn't appear I should have left it to Miss Benson to spread the good tidings when he got home tonight. I made a right pig's ear of the situation, and a bloody fool of myself!

She was off duty next afternoon, Friday, and was shopping in the High Street when she ran slap bang into Alex in the books section of Smith's. Bearing in mind their 'new rule' for meeting, she was surprised when he asked her over to Greystones to tea. 'It's Tom's birthday; he's having a few friends in. You wouldn't, I suppose, like to reinforce the adult contingent—namely, Imogen, Pa and myself?'

'Would I be welcomed...by Tom, I mean? It's his party, after all.'

'Course...he likes you.' Cupping her elbow, as though he felt she might make off, Alex took her over to pay for his book and then they went downstairs in the lift.

On the ground floor she bought Tom a jigsaw. 'I can't crash into his birthday rave and not take him a present. Besides, I like buying for kids,' she said in the face of Alex's protests that a gift wasn't necessary.

'He's invited four boys from his class at school. Oh, and one girl, I think—the female half of an inseparable pair of twins. After tea Pa is taking them all to see
The Lion King.'

'Your father does well.'

'He's got loads of patience—far more than I,' Alex admitted, as the big car—the Range Rover again— covered the short distance out to West Beldon—and to Greystones, the Marriners' house. Anna had been there once before, when Charles Marinner had asked Prue and her over for drinks one Sunday in July. It was an L-shaped house—its walls partly flint and partly rendered, its roof slate and its windows sash—a perfect family house, Anna thought, preparing to get out as Alex drew up in the drive.

Charles Marriner, sunbrowned and white-haired, his twill trousers hanging slackly on his tall, rangy frame, heaved himself out of a garden chair and came to shake hands with her. 'Good to see you... Glad Alex brought you. .. How's your grandmother? Imo and the kids are all down at the paddock.' He waved an arm towards the end of the long garden, which opened onto a field where Tom could be seen riding Greensleeves over a series of jumps.

His audience of small boys and one little girl were standing outside the paling fence, whilst Imogen Rayland called out instructions in her clear, carrying voice... 'Lean forward... Shift your weight over her neck... Keep your hands light... Encourage her to stretch her back. That's better. . .much better. . .oh, well
done!'
Everyone clapped as Greensleeves cleared the jump with consummate ease, tucking her heels up behind.

Tom was showing off, which was natural enough, Anna thought, watching him go round the ring again, but as his father called he dismounted at once and, leading Greensleeves, came to the rail. 'Do you like her?' he asked Anna, who was patting the little mare's neck.

She assured him that she did, 'although I don't know very much about horses, Tom.'

'Imo knows everything about them... There's
nothing
she doesn't know!'

'She's like a mother to Tom,' one of the children— the precocious little girl, who was probably quoting
her
mother—told Anna as they went in to tea.

It was laid in the kitchen. A blue checked cloth covered the long pine table, which was all but groaning with the kind of food that children like to eat. There were sausage rolls, and soft white baps filled with ham and cheese; there was ice-cream and jelly, and trifle, and cake, and buns in paper cases. There was a good deal of hearty eating and excited conversation, mostly about the film they were going to see.

Anna, talking mainly to Charles Marriner, was astonished at how Alex was responding to the children— making them squeal with laughter, passing them food, mopping up spillages—becoming, in effect, a family man. Catching her eye at one point, he smiled at her down the length of the table and, although her heart didn't exactly miss a beat, she nevertheless found herself looking at him in rather a different light.

Charles's Volvo estate easily accommodated six children in its rear seats, and they were off and away by half-past five, ready for the performance which started at six. Imogen went down to the paddock to stable Greensleeves, whilst Alex took Anna home. He was going on, after that, to meet a client at Severndean. 'It's a longstanding appointment,' he said, 'and I can't very well put him off.'