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'She's so young.'

'Yes.' He scrawled something in his notebook then snapped it shut. 'It happens. Are we finished, Anita?'

'Finally. You're going to get another one of those nasty letters from my supervisor about my overtime,' the nurse said cheerfully. 'Not that I'm objecting, mind. Th& money comes in handy.' She waved her hand to indicate that they should leave. 'I'll get these notes sent up to your office. See you next week, Neil.'

'Have a good weekend,' he replied. 'Merrin—'

'I'm staying,' she said immediately, interpreting his doubtful look. 'Ward round now?'

'We'll start on Orange,' he confirmed heavily.

'Prof, does it go away?' she asked him, hurrying with him towards the main part of the hospital. 'This awful shock when you diagnose someone like Mrs Corby just now? Does that stop?'

'No.'

'But you get used to it?' she persisted, wondering. He'd been matter-of-fact about the possibility of a tumour, practical where she'd been horrified. She felt that it was important that she understood.

'Never,' he said. Up to the second flight of stairs now, he glanced briefly back at her. 'You get used to confronting it, but not used to the feeling itself.'

'But you seem quite calm.'

'Because my job is to deal with the problem, not brood about it. Have you seen Toby's post-op haemoglobin from this morning?'

'Ten point nine,' she said breathlessly, taking the final dozen stairs two at a time. 'Which is great for him.'

Celia was still on the ward. 'Doing extra hours to make up for my time off for the funeral,' she explained, when the surgeon remarked on it. 'Ready to go round?'

There were no outstanding problems. Simon D'Souza was sitting in the day room, watching television and looking gloomy, but he brightened when the professor told him that he could go home the following day.

'I haven't forgotten my smokes,' he said abruptly to Celia. 'I'm going mad here without them. You won't get me out of here without giving them back.'

The eloquent way the nurse rolled her eyes suggested that it wasn't the first time the issue had been mentioned but she merely said quietly, 'Of course.'

Toby Wiseman was asleep. 'He's been comfortable all afternoon,' Celia told them quietly. 'No problems.'

Mrs Franklin, the woman who'd been admitted with acute gallstone pain on Tuesday night, had had her gall bladder removed the day before and was recovering well. 'I've been up to the day room,' she told them brightly, 'and I've had my first cup of tea. The registrar said that I might be able to go home after the weekend.'

'All going well,' the professor confirmed. 'If you have no problems with fluids tonight you can try a light breakfast in the morning.'

After they'd finished on the adult wards they went to the children's unit, taking the basement linking corridor since it was dark and cold outside and had started to snow lightly again.

After seeing the children, he told her that she should finish. 'There's only one person in ICU and I'll see him myself,' he said. 'It's late. Thanks for your help but go home now.'

'And you?' Unable to help herself, Merrin frowned up at him, worried by the shadows around his eyes and mouth. 'You're tired. Are you going home?'

He frowned back at her. 'Mother-henning again?'

'It's not just work—you've had the funeral as well,' she persisted. 'It's obviously taken a lot out of you. Shouldn't you have an early night?'

'Thank you, Merrin,' he said coolly, turning away and leaving her feeling bereft. 'See you Monday.'

'Bye.' She lifted a forlorn hand but he was already gone.

She'd had plans for the evening but now found she had no enthusiasm for them. Friends from St Martin's had invited her to the cinema but it seemed like too much effort now to hurry to get to their meeting place in Leicester Square in time to catch them. She knew that other doctors who were living in at the hospital would be at one of the local pubs but the thought of socialising didn't seem particularly appealing so instead she trudged back to her room.

Electing take-away pizza the more appealing alternative to the canteen or cooking supper for herself, she changed into warmer clothes and a heavy jacket and pulled on thick gloves and a scarf and hat and ventured out into the cold again. Her breath came out in little pale puffs ahead of her as she walked slowly along the sleet-coated pavement that wound around the hospital and out onto the main road.

An expensive-looking car stopped for her when she ven
tured gingerly out onto the zebra crossing and she waved a grateful hand at it, crossing as quickly as she could manage considering that the white lines were like slippery slides. But when she went to walk on, the car drew up beside her and she heard an electric window opening.

'Merrin?'

She stiffened, then bent and peered inside, blinking at him. 'You are going home early,' she said, pulling off her hat and tugging her scarf away from her mouth. 'I'm glad. Have a nice evening.'

'It's freezing. Do you need a ride somewhere?'

'I'm just going to get pizza.' She waved vaguely ahead of them at the slowly blinking red neon sign seventy yards or so ahead of them. 'I'm fine. It's not so cold when you start walking.'

But she saw his mouth compress and he leaned across and opened the passenger door. 'Get in.' When she still hesitated he looked irritated. 'Get in, I'll drive you.'

Her heart thudding, she obeyed his command, pulling the door until it shut with a luxurious-sounding thud. 'This is nice,' she remarked, looking around the vehicle's interior. 'What is it?'

'Four wheels and a box.' The careless lift of his shoulder suggested he thought the make irrelevant. He signalled and drew up behind a cab outside the pizza shop. 'I thought this place wasn't supposed to be very good?'

'I don't know.' She reached for the doorhandle, frowning in at the shop. For a Friday night, it was certainly quiet. There were no customers and the lone worker was perched on a stool behind the counter, reading a comic. 'I've never eaten here.'

'Is someone waiting for you?' At her puzzled look he added, 'Are you buying for yourself or are you taking it back to share with someone?'

'Just for me,' she said wanly.

'Then I'll take you somewhere else.' Signalling again,
he pulled out into the traffic. 'There's a better place further along. Put your belt on.'

'This is very kind of you.' Settling into her seat properly, Merrin tugged off her gloves then pulled the seat belt across her chest, appreciating the refined way the clasp slid into the clip at her right hip. 'So you're a pizza expert?'

'Hardly.' His sideways look was unreadable. 'But I did spend four years as a registrar on a one-in-three call at the National. You know what the canteen's like. I know every fast-food place within bleeping distance.'

'Where else have you worked?'

'Three years attached to St Mark's and another three at the Cleveland Clinic in the US. The rest of the time I've been at the National.'

'Including medical school?'

'Writing my CV?'

'No.' She looked away quickly. 'No. Sorry. I'm just interested. When I get annoying, please, always just tell me to shut up.'

'This is the place.' The lights had turned green again and the pizza outlet he meant was just the other side of the intersection. He pulled off the road into a small car park beside the building and stopped the engine. 'I'll wait for you. It's too far to walk back to the hospital from here.'

Briefly she considered protesting, but his expression suggested she wouldn't get anywhere and, besides, given the cold it was too far from the hospital and she wanted to spend more time with him. 'Thank you,' she said instead.

When she returned with two boxes she met his speculative look bravely. 'I bought you their supreme,' she explained. 'And a chicken tikka with cheese for me. I don't expect you to eat with me, but you do have to eat.'

He sighed. 'Merrin...'

'Indulge me. This mother hen thing might pass if you let me get it out of my system. Besides, you've driven me all this way. This is my way of thanking you.'

'I'll pay for it,' he said wearily.

'You're offending me.' She lifted the boxes to her nose and sniffed appreciatively, aware that he still watched her but not wanting to give him a chance to argue any more. 'Hurry up. Take me back. I'm starving.'

For a few seconds he did nothing, but then, finally, he started the engine again. 'We'll go somewhere closer,' he said heavily, turning left onto the street instead of right as she'd been expecting. 'Is that all right?'

'Of course.' She met his sideways look with a calm she was far from feeling. Anywhere he took her, anything he did, would always be fine with her, she acknowledged silently. Perhaps it was time that she told him that?

Neil's
home was a generously sized fiat on the third and top floor in the middle of a row of what looked to Merrin like six identical buildings, a short distance from Lord's cricket ground. While it looked obviously expensive and was luxuriously furnished and immaculate, Merrin nevertheless looked around doubtfully.

'It's a bit gloomy,' she declared. She shed her coat and draped it over an antique-looking bureau close to the door. Central heating meant the rooms were warm, but however welcome the heat it couldn't make up for the fussy dullness of the decor or the old-fashioned stuffiness of the furniture. 'Don't you miss having a garden?'

'I've never thought about it.' Going ahead of her with the pizzas, he'd turned on lights and opened the door into another room which looked like an old-fashioned servery.

'I would have thought you'd prefer something a bit more modern,' she remarked, following him, and curiously stroking the heavily embossed wallpaper that adorned the kitchen wall. 'You're hardly in your dotage. Wouldn't you prefer a bit more light and air? More glass would make a difference. Some plants. You could rip up this ghastly carpet and polish up the floorboards,'

'I don't spend a lot of time here,' he said absently. 'Do you want wine or something soft?'

'It's very clean. Red wine, please. Something light.'

'An agency looks after the cleaning. Someone comes. Three or four times a week, I think. Chianti?'

'Lovely.' She pursed her lips, and looked up. 'The ceilings are awful,' she declared, eyeing the ostentatious plasterwork and ornate light fittings disparagingly. 'Ever thought about pulling it all down?'

'My wife had that work specially commissioned,' he said quietly.

'Oh.' Merrin felt herself shrinking down to about two inches tall. 'Sorry,' she said huskily. 'Foot-in-mouth disease strikes again. Throw me out if you want.'

'No, it's all right.' He looked up and she saw that he was frowning a little, as if he'd never seen it before properly himself. 'If I'd ever given it any thought I'd probably have agreed with you.'

'It's very...warm,' she said hesitantly. 'The central heating's obviously efficient. And...those glasses are nice.'

'Too late,' he said evenly, turning back to where he'd started to pour her wine. 'Don't even try.'

Instead of pouring himself wine as well, he took a cola from the huge and, from what she could see, virtually empty fridge behind him. 'Cheers.'

Merrin met his toast questioningly. 'You don't drink?'

'Not when I'm going to drive.'

'I can take a cab.'

'No.'

'I don't mind.'

'I do.'

'Well, then, I could stay.'

Their gazes collided. She didn't even attempt to hide what she meant and on his face she saw first puzzlement, followed by shock and then, quickly, rejection. 'No.'

'Why not?'

'Just no.'

'Is it because I work for you?'

'Do you often proposition your bosses?'

'No.' Her chest was thudding. 'But I did once have a crush on one of my tutors, a dour man who gave the most beautiful series of lectures on the anatomy of embryology.

He showed lovely slides and he had wonderful hair and the quietest, gentlest voice I've ever heard.'

'And?'

'And nothing. Unrequited passion. I doubt he knew I existed. It only lasted a few weeks. I discovered I must be extraordinarily shallow because as soon as someone told me his hair was a toupee my great love evaporated.' She looked at his hair. 'But yours is natural.'

'Yes.' He didn't look amused. 'Merrin Ryan, what am I supposed to do with you?'

'You could take me to bed,' she suggested, but the rapid darkening of his expression put paid to that idea. 'No. No, perhaps not. Not your type, hmm?'

'You're a very attractive girl.'

'It's all right. I get the message.' She stared past him towards his huge and utterly horrible monster of a fridge. 'Too young. Too plain. Too stupid.'

'Too young, too beautiful, far too intelligent,' he countered. 'And back to too young again.'

'I'm almost twenty-five.'

'I'm almost forty.'

'Liar.' She'd looked up his date of birth in a book containing brief biographies of hospital staff which she'd found in the hospital library. 'You're barely thirty-eight.'

'The
almost
was relative,' he countered. 'And it doesn't change anything. The pizza must be getting cold. Shall we eat?'

'If that's all I'm being offered.' Avoiding his hard gaze, she took a long swallow of her wine. 'Out of the box or must we have plates and cutlery?'

'Out of the box is fine.' He opened a door leading out of the other side of the kitchen and took both boxes through into another room where he opened them on a huge, dark, cloth-covered table. 'Don't you have a boyfriend?'

'Boy friends, yes. If you're asking if I have a lover, then no.' She took a piece of the chicken pizza indifferently and cradled it in her hand. 'Not at present. You?'

He took a mouthful of supreme pizza, chewing it slowly, his eyes on hers. 'No.'

'Why not?'

'Does there have to be a particular reason?'

'Is it because you're still grieving for your wife?'

'Stop, Merrin.' His eyes narrowed. 'That's enough.'