He started to walk slowly out of the hall, heedless of the crowds milling around him, and allowed himself to step back in time as the emotions he’d felt then came back with vivid intensity. He had realised that he had to finish their romance and by a twist of circumstance it had happened at the end of the hospital annual ball. Sally had looked absolutely stunning in a sheath silk dress of ice blue, showing off her curvaceous figure beautifully, and there had been a particular bitter-sweet intensity about their happiness for him, knowing that by the end of the evening he would leave her for ever. Like the rewinding of a film, he could still visualise so clearly her bewildered face as he’d told her that he needed to get away to fulfil his medical ambitions.
At first she’d laughed. ‘You, Jack McLennan? Concentrate on your career? You’ve got to be joking!’ She’d looked up at him impishly. ‘You’re too fond of your sport and…other things,’ she’d said coquettishly, putting her arms around him. ‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily!’
He hadn’t reacted, just looked back at her rather grimly, trying to keep his emotions under control, and her eyes had widened in disbelief as eventually she’d realised that he’d meant what he’d said. Tears had slowly rolled down her cheeks, and it had been unbearable for him to witness her distress. He’d been deliberately brutal because Sally had needed to be under no illusion that things could ever be rekindled between them—he hadn’t been able to tell her what had lain behind his decision.
Oh, yes, his career had flourished in Australia. He’d worked hard, plunged himself into his job heart and soul, trying to put Sally and the nightmare scenario of what had happened in his family out of his mind, and the terror that he might end up like his father—a drunken brute who’d terrorised those around him.
He flicked a glance at his watch and sighed as he went to pick up his key at Reception. He’d have to go to the dinner tonight—there were several old friends at the conference he’d promised to catch up with, but he’d check out of the hotel first thing the next day, and out of Sally Lawson’s life once more. He had no rights over her—she was some other lucky beggar’s girlfriend, and looking at her expression when they’d been standing face to face a few minutes before had told him very plainly that the only emotion she felt towards him was dislike.
‘So, Sally, tell me about this Jack McLennan you used to work with.’ In the steamy atmosphere of the little café, Jean looked at Sally enquiringly. ‘I got the impression you were less than enthusiastic when I suggested he apply for the job. Didn’t you get on, or was he no good?’
Sally shrugged. ‘Oh, he was a good doctor, no doubt about that—very committed.’ She chose her words carefully, unwilling to reveal by any inflection in her voice that he’d meant anything to her at all. ‘He was very ambitious, actually—I’m sure he had a terrific job.’
‘But what about working with him again?’ persisted Jean. ‘Any objections?’
Sally stirred her coffee slowly and stared at the swirling liquid. ‘We…well, I suppose you could say we had a difference of opinion just before he left.’
‘A pity,’ observed Jean, ‘But perhaps you could learn to overlook your differences now. After all, it’s a few years ago since you worked together. I must say he looked rather pleasant.’ She laughed. ‘Actually, he looks absolutely gorgeous! I’m surprised you didn’t fall for him, Sal.’
‘Oh, everyone fell for Jack McLennan,’ said Sally offhandedly. She put her cup down on the table rather abruptly and stood up and stretched. ‘Now we’ve had lunch, I think I’ll go and have a run in the park before we meet this evening, Jean, if you don’t mind—need to get rid of a few cobwebs. See you later.’
Jean looked thoughtfully after Sally as she left the restaurant, then shrugged her shoulders as her mobile started ringing. Sally didn’t notice Jean answer her mobile phone, or see her expression as she answered it.
Sally unlocked the door of her room and went straight to the bathroom, peeling off her tracksuit as she went. After an hour’s run on a sunny afternoon, she was hot and dripping, but she felt invigorated and more positive—all that exercise after the unsettling meeting with Jack had helped to calm her down. It had been a shock—no, she corrected herself quickly, more a surprise, meeting him again, but her life had moved on and now she was embroiled in the excitement of getting everything ready for her wedding. It was going to be fun, albeit her instinct had been to go for a low-key ceremony, but Tim was very keen to invite everyone he knew, including business acquaintances, ‘because it will help enormously in getting my name known in the right circles, Sally,’ he’d explained.
She turned on the shower and stood under the hot water gratefully, turning her body so that the little sharp needles of spray reached all over her, and then she stepped out, her skin tingling. She grabbed a towel, wound it round her wet hair and put on the towelling robe hanging up in the bathroom. She would make herself a cup of tea and watch the news on television before getting ready for the evening’s dinner, then probably ring Tim and tell him she’d be home by lunchtime the next day.
Just as she was picking up her mobile to make the call, a peremptory knock on the door made her jump—it was probably room service, she decided, although she hadn’t ordered anything.
‘Yes?’ she called out. ‘Who is it?’
A short silence and then a deep voice replied, ‘It’s Jack—Jack McLennan. I’ve got a message for you.’
Jack McLennan? What on earth was he doing here? Six years with no contact, and suddenly he thinks it’s OK to buttonhole her in her hotel bedroom! Sally drew the bathrobe round her body tightly and walked to the door, glancing at her flustered image in the mirror as she passed. A feeling of unease flickered through her. She didn’t want to see Jack again—she simply had no interest in the man, and she resented the fact that for some reason his appearance had disturbed her.
She certainly didn’t want to see him when she was dressed in a skimpy bathrobe with a towel over her hair…once upon a time it might have been only too wonderful to be dressed in next to nothing with Jack McLennan in a hotel bedroom, but not now, not now… Coming to see her just had to be curiosity on his part, an excuse to see her again so that they could have a cosy chat about past times…and that was the last thing she was going to do with a man who’d treated her so badly.
She didn’t open the door, but called out crisply, ‘Who’s the message from?’
‘Your colleague, Jean Cornwell.’
‘Jean? Why should she give you a message—why not give it me herself?’
‘She’s had bad news and hadn’t time to get it to you. If you open the door, I can give you her note.’
Anxiety fluttered through Sally and she opened the door. ‘OK. Pass it to me.’
A pair of deep blue eyes held hers for a moment then swept quickly over her attire.
‘Sorry—rather an inconvenient time I guess,’ he apologised.
Sally pulled the robe even more tightly round herself, acutely aware of how close they were to each other. The last time they’d been this close, she thought fleetingly, had been when Jack had been finishing with her and he’d looked so stern…so implacable. Was he reminded of that time, or had it meant so little to him that he’d forgotten that episode completely? He’d probably had many affairs since then and their liaison had been long forgotten. She took the note from him, pushing those silly thoughts to the back of her mind.
‘Do