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'That isn't fair, Mike! I. . . I'm not used to free love! All this jumping into bed with whoever asks you. It isn't my way. I'm sorry if I seem prudish,' she went on, but Mike's mouth came down on hers as he drew her roughly towards him, and she had no breath left to argue.

With a groan he pushed her away, and she 'staggered for a second, eyes wide with astonishment.

'Listen Anna, this is no good! All this.' Mike waved his large hands about to encompass the setting, the winter's day, the very fact that they had to meet secretly.

'I know. I
do
understand, Mike' she emphasised, 'but with Mother as she is . . .'

'I'll bet if I were a doctor or some fancy surgeon she'd be nice enough to me!' he said sulkily, and Anna lowered her eyes.

He could be right. Dr Alexandre or Dr Tester might be welcome. So long as they did not evince a strong interest in Anna. Mother wouldn't want to lose her only daughter, not even in marriage to a doctor.

'Perhaps if she thought we were serious, Mike, she would come to accept you,' Anna said slowly. 'She wants me to be happy.'

'Does she?' he asked bitterly, his wide mouth sullen and ugly in the unkind light. 'I don't think your mother cares for anyone but herself!' He paused to light a cigarette and took a long drag on it before he went on, 'I'm leaving soon, Anna. Got a chance of promotion.'

'Oh?' Anna's big eyes grew rounder and she felt that tears were not far away. 'I'm . . . I'm glad—for you, I mean,' she whispered, all her love showing in her expression.

Mike licked his lips, not meeting her gaze. 'I have to prove myself first, though.' Anna nodded, lost in her own thoughts. Mike was going away. Mike, the man she loved. If only she could go too! Oh, why didn't he ask her? Did he want her to wait for him, or . . . ? Or was this an excuse to finish a relationship from which he was getting so little?

Anna's lips dared not frame any of the questions her heart was asking. She was so afraid of the answers.

Mike cleared his throat and, with eyes suspiciously bright, Anna raised her face, prepared to hear the worst. 'I have to prove myself by going to their Northern Ireland factory. Just to show I'm made of strong stuff!' he joked, and Anna gasped.

'Mike! You can't! You . . . ' her voice trailed off.

'I know, Anna. I know,' Mike's arms went around her again, and wearily she rested her head on his shoulder. 'Don't worry about me. I'll be OK. And when I get back I'll have a better job, better prospects. Might even become Deputy Area Manager,' he whispered. 'Area Manager's wife, Anna. You'd like that, wouldn't you?' he coaxed, and relief shot through her. He wasn't trying to ditch her!

'Mike, I don't care about promotion. I would marry you tomorrow if . . .if you asked me,' she hurried on, blushing at her own cheek.

He sighed. 'Look, Anna. I haven't anything to offer you. When I return things will be better. I could get a bigger flat for one thing.'

She shook her head, smiling a little as she planned for their future. 'Silly, a Deputy Area Man-ager ought to have a house. Three bedrooms and a nice big sitting-room,' she added, thinking of the children she and Mike would have. 'Of course I would have to qualify first. You won't mind, will you?' she asked, afraid that he wouldn't let her continue her training.

'No, I don't mind, pet,' he said quickly. 'Two incomes are better than one.'

'Just for a while. When the babies come I'll stay at home. No dumping them in the crèche and going back to work part-time!' Anna said firmly, and Mike flinched.

'Let's not get too domesticated!' He laughed, but it had a hollow ring to it and Anna judged that Mike didn't care for babies.

Few men did, she supposed, until they fathered their own. It wasn't necessarily a fault, though if he was really dead-set against children she would have to sacrifice her maternal longings. It was little enough for the man she loved.

Sadly, she ran her finger gently across his lips. 'When do you leave?'

He started. 'Oh, not for a few weeks. Though the call could come at any time,' he added quickly. 'Anna—do you love me?'

'You know I do! At least, I thought you did!' How could he
not
know?

'If you love me, then let me spend my last few weeks with you, love,' he whispered against her hair.

She began to protest, knowing how impossible his suggestion was. 'No, Anna, let me finish. I've got this flat to myself. I move in on Saturday. You could help me move in, share Saturday with me. It . . .it would make me so happy, Anna.' His usually arrogant voice was humble for once, and Anna hesitated.

She was off on Saturday, as he well knew. His suggestion was that they spend the whole day making love. He didn't need her help with moving—he had no furniture of his own. He wanted
her,
loved her, and was what he was asking so much? She'd said she would marry him tomorrow, so why was she hesitating? What was she saving herself for? Some handsome consultant? Or a senior registrar with a steady gaze that burned right through to her soul?

With a frightened gasp, she broke away from Mike. She didn't want to make the decision. And, try as she might, she could not shake off the image of penetrating blue-grey eyes staring accusingly at her, waiting for that decision.

'Anna
?' Mike's voice was rough with emotion, and she put out a hand to ward him off, even though he hadn't moved.

The decision was made. If she loved him she had no choice. If she turned him away now he would find solace in the arms of some pretty Irish girl. He might not even wait that long, she thought wryly. She had to prove how much she loved him and in Mike's opinion there was only one way to do that.

Her voice was steady as she gave him her answer. 'Yes, I'll help you move in on Saturday. You were wanting to show me your new flat, weren't you?'

'Anna! You really mean that?' Mike seemed unable to believe his ears and Anna smiled sadly. He hadn't expected her to capitulate, then.

After a long, lingering kiss they made plans to meet on Saturday morning then Mike strolled away, whistling.

She watched his powerful figure until he was lost in the darkness, then she shivered, the cold and damp easing their way through to her very bones. The die was cast and after Saturday there would be no going back.

But what, she wondered, was she going to tell Mother?

Friday passed slowly for Anna. She spent the morning in a daze. She changed her mother's library books then, greatly daring, popped into a quaint fifteenth-century cafe for elevenses, even though coffee and biscuits awaited her return home.

I'm tired of coffee and biscuits! she thought, rebelliously. The biscuits at home were always the same, wheatmeal without even a trace of chocolate. She settled herself in the window-seat so that she could watch the passers-by as they made their way to the big market. She ordered hot chocolate and fresh scones which, when they came, were running with butter and honey.

With a sigh of contentment, she made inroads on a scone, idly watching the main street. It was Middleborough's only street of any length, and ran from the market, past the small council estate and the bus depot, finishing up at the school. The shops in the town were spread out, which helped to give the area character, she thought. True, there were a couple of supermarkets, but no big shopping precinct.

Anna finished her scone and was debating whether or not to eat the second one when she saw a familiar figure pass by. Dr Rick Alexandre—and he wasn't alone.

She pressed her face closer to the window, anxious to see who the woman was before the couple passed from sight, but she was too late. She was left with the impression that his companion was tall and blonde, but she didn't think she knew her. She didn't know any tall blondes except Staff Nurse Powell and it was unlikely that she appealed to Dr Alexandre. He would go for the more elegant, sophisticated type, Anna judged.

Smiling sadly, she finished her drink and hurried away, her appetite gone.

After lunch Anna sat deep in thought, her romantic novel unopened on her lap. Tonight there was a party in the Nurses' Home. They had great parties there or so she'd heard. Not that parties appealed much but neither did sitting at home reading to her mother, or running errands for Mrs Jenkins and Nurse Dixon.

Idly, she glanced at the cover of her novel. It was a light Regency romance, set in the days when men were men and women did not need to masquerade as men, claiming equal opportunities, insisting on paying a half share on an evening out. Strange, she peered more closely at the herd on the cover, he resembled Dr Alexandre, though she could not see what colour his eyes were. The profile was the same. The strong nose, firm jaw, dark hair ...

Mike. She ought to be thinking about Mike.
He
was the man she loved. She couldn't have Dr Alexandre, nor indeed did she want him. He was too changeable, blowing hot and cold without rhyme or reason. No, Mike was a good man. One day he would be a good husband, she supposed.

Thoughts of marriage reminded her of tomorrow. Saturday. The day she would find out what being a woman was all about. Anna's hands felt clammy and she wiped them on the tartan rug covering her knees. It was cold on the verandah but it was the only place she could be alone with her thoughts. What would Mike's love-making be like, she wondered. Just the thought of it frightened her. Twenty-one and she'd never been to bed with a man! How the younger students would laugh. On her first ward there had been a pupil nurse who continually boasted about her sexual experiences. Anna recalled how this girl had jeered at another student when the student admitted that she'd never had intercourse.

Anna coloured. She felt feverish and apprehensive. She pressed her clammy hands to her burning cheeks. How would she cope? Would Mike make allowances for her inexperience? Questions went around and around her brain, making her dizzy. Well, tomorrow she would find the answers to those questions. And the prospect terrified her.

'Anna!' Mrs Jenkins' soft Welsh voice came from somewhere Within the house and Anna was glad to get away from her nightmare thoughts.

'Ah, you're here then!' Mrs Jenkins sounded delighted and Anna smiled. She liked the housekeeper and only wished Nurse Dixon was more like her. Then her smile faded as her troubled eyes met Dr Alexandre's.

Her fever vanished and she felt cold all over. 'Is ... is something the matter, Doctor?' she asked, rising.

The registrar's eyes rested on her thoughtfully, and she had the urge to back away. 'No, there's nothing wrong, Anna. I came to fix up about tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow? That's Saturday,' she said foolishly.

'So it is, so it is,' he murmured, smiling his thanks at Mrs Jenkins, who bustle d away.

Now they were alone, Anna didn't know what to say to him. She'd heard men preferred girls who listened, so she remained silent. If he wanted to make conversation, that was up to him. Saturday was the day she was going to belong to Mike Forster and Dr Alexandre had no part in it.

But what, a voice whispered, if it was Rick Alexandre and not Mike Forster? Wouldn't tomorrow be a day of rejoicing? Would you feel the same fear, the apprehension?

'No!' she said aloud, answering the voice, then bit her lower lip when she realised what she'd said. It was true. Those blue-grey eyes were beautiful. They
were.
It wasn't just her imagination. He had long dark lashes and those big eyes with their steady gaze. And the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed was really fetching.

Her lips moved but no sound came as realisation dawned. She was infatuated with this man! That was the reason he was never far from her thoughts. It was
his
face,
his
eyes, that hovered before her when she ought to have been concentrating on something else.

'Do you usually make faces at guests or am I especially privileged?' Dr Alexandre asked, his eyes watchful now.

With an effort Anna pulled herself together, the enormity of her discovery causing her to speak sharply, 'I was
not
making faces, Dr Alexandre! And as I'm off duty tomorrow, I don't see that we have anything to discuss.'

'I see,' he said agreeably, settling himself in the wicker armchair Anna had just vacated. 'Bit nippy out here, isn't it? No central heating?' He gazed up at her, eyes innocent.

He must never know how she felt! But how could she hide it? He mustn't see her face, it was like an open book. Swiftly, she crossed to the verandah windows and looked out at the long garden with its denuded trees. 'What is happening on Saturday?' she asked, her voice muffled.

'Ah, yes. Saturday. It's my day off as well as yours,' he said, and Anna waited, wondering if he had some task he wanted her to perform for the hospital.

'Is it carol-singing?' she asked hopefully. She enjoyed singing but it seemed a bit early.

'Christmas isn't quite ready to descend upon us, Anna. I thought we might go for a drive,' he went on equably. She swung round to face him.

'Go for a drive?' she echoed. 'With you?'

'Mm. A nice idea, don't you think?'

Anna shook her head. 'Why do you want to take me for a drive? Isn't your blonde friend available? she asked tartly, and he looked astonished.

'Which blonde friend? Let me see now.' He began ticking off names on his fingers, still with that infuriatingly smug expression on his face. 'There is Angela—no, she's more of a reddish-brown. Then Olivia—no, she isn't blonde any more. Or what about Betty? I don't think so—haven't seen her lately. I've got it! Must be Simone—she was blonde last time I saw her.'

'Dr Alexandre,' Anna said patiently, 'I do not want a rundown of all your girl-friends. I'm sorry Simone and Betty and . . . and Oliver can't make it but I'm not substituting for them.'

'Olivia, dear, not Oliver. You'll get me a bad name!' he drawled, and Anna exploded.