‘She disappoints you.’
Jane nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘For what? Not choosing my mother more carefully?’ She ruffled his hair affectionately. ‘Don’t be silly. Are you going to work?’
‘I have to. I’ve got a new registrar and she got flung in a bit at the deep end yesterday.’
‘Mmm. Frankie. I like her; she’s got nice eyes.’
His mouth quirked in a fleeting smile. ‘Yes—yes, she has. She’s probably got bags under them by now. I’d better go and give her the day off, I think.’
He patted Jane’s shoulder, and she slid off his lap and stretched, her nightshirt rising up to show endless skinny legs. She’s grown even more, he realised with a start, and she’s turning into a woman. Dear God, can I cope?
He stood up and hugged her briefly, dropped a kiss on her soft hair and let her go. ‘Will you be all right?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Dad, for God’s sake! I got here from London all right.’
‘Yes, well, we won’t talk about that. There’s food in the fridge and Mrs Bailey will be in later to clean up a bit and cook supper for us.’
‘I could do that.’
He chuckled. ‘Jane, when you were last here a week ago you couldn’t even make your own bed. I think we’ll let Mrs Bailey do it—maybe she’ll teach you how to cook if you ask her nicely.’
Jane rolled her eyes again. ‘Dad, I know how to cook. What do you think Mum eats in the holidays when her boyfriends aren’t allowed to take her out for dinner?’
He smiled, but inwardly he seethed again that she should be so cynical so young. Damn Jackie. When he caught up with her he’d have a few choice words to say, and out of JJ’s earshot, too, so he didn’t have to pull his punches.
‘I’ll ring you later.’
‘Daddy, I’ll be fine.’
He grinned at her. ‘OK; love. Take care.’
‘You too.’ She reached up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. ‘Have a good day. Say thank you to Frankie for me for covering for you.’
Frankie was shattered.
It was easy enough to keep up the cheerful, determined ‘I can do it’ front while Robert was around. When she was on her own, however, doubts began to assail her.
His praise on her first day had helped enormously, but all the time she was working she was desperately conscious of being under scrutiny. Not that that mattered. She didn’t worry about being watched—it was a valuable safety net for the patients during her learning process—but she was beginning to wish she hadn’t made the suggestion about being on trial.
After less than a week she was finding the process unbelievably tiring, and every time he moved out of sight her cheery smile slipped.
Apparently it didn’t go unnoticed. She was sitting in the staff coffee-lounge one lunchtime after a gruelling clinic that had had all the subtlety of a finals viva, sipping strong coffee and chewing methodically but without enthusiasm on a Danish pastry, when a shadow fell across her lap.
‘Mind if I join you?’
She looked up to find a man of about her own age, dressed in theatre pyjamas, his dark hair rumpled and untidy, a cautious half-smile on his generous mouth.
‘Do,’ she answered. He looked friendly and approachable and not about to pounce, she thought with relief. She was too damn tired and strung out to deal with Tarzan today.
‘You’re new, aren’t you?’ he asked, settling himself down with his anti-static boots propped on the table and the coffee-cup balanced on his lap.
‘Yes. I’ve been here since Monday.’
His grey eyes assessed her thoughtfully and the cautious smile touched his lips again. ‘Were you tired when you arrived, or has this place got to you already?’
She laughed. ‘A bit of each. I did a silly thing. I talked myself into a job on a trial basis, and now I feel I can’t breathe spontaneously without it being noted down.’
He chuckled. ‘You’re Robert Ryder’s junior reg, aren’t you? I gather he’s excellent.’
‘Yes, he is. Rather too excellent. The shortfall is all the more obvious,’ she said with wry self-mockery.
The young doctor laughed softly and leant forward, his hand outstretched. ‘I’m Gavin Jones—Oliver Henderson’s junior reg.’
She shook the firm, dry hand. ‘Frankie Bradley.’
‘Frankie—that’s unusual.’
‘Frances really,’ she said with a little shudder.
Gavin smiled. ‘Frances is fine but Frankie suits you better. So—you’re on trial. Wow. I remember when I made a foul-up as a houseman and Ross Hamilton came down on me like a ton of bricks. I couldn’t breathe after that either without him watching me!’
‘What did you do?’
‘Took out an appendix on a girl with Munchausen’s—but you’ll be safe there. It doesn’t happen in orthopaedics. Either it’s broken or it isn’t!’
She chuckled. ‘I hope you’re right. I’ll probably end up recommending arthroscopy on someone’s knee when there’s nothing at all wrong with it.’
He drained his coffee-cup and put it down on the table. ‘Um—I don’t suppose you fancy a drink tonight?’
The idea was suddenly immensely appealing. ‘That would be lovely,’ she told him, a smile softening her tired eyes.
‘Seven? I’ll pick you up—I take it you’re living in?’
She nodded wryly. ‘Are you?’
‘For my sins. I’m only just back here—I’ve been away for a while as a registrar in Cambridge—and I haven’t got a flat sorted out yet. I don’t think it’ll be long, though. Those rooms are the pits.’
She laughed with him, and watched as he left the room. She was still smiling as her bleeper went, and with a sigh she got up and went over to the phone.
‘Dr Bradley,’ she told the switchboard.
‘Putting you through,’ the voice replied, and suddenly there was a young, hesitant girl on the line.
‘Um—is that Frankie?’
‘Yes, it is. Is that Jane Ryder?’
‘Yeah—listen, can you do me a favour? It’s my father’s birthday today and I’m cooking him a special meal tonight, and I thought it would be nice if you could join us. It’d make it more of a celebration, somehow, and give me a chance to thank you for bailing Dad out so he could fetch me from the station and bring me home. So,’ she said, all in a rush and running out of breath, ‘will you come?’
She sounded so hopeful, and Frankie didn’t have the heart to disappoint her. Besides which, it would be an ideal opportunity to get to know her enigmatic and very reserved boss a little better. She could always put Gavin off for another time.
‘Yes, of course I’ll come.’
‘Are you sure? It’s probably the last thing you want to do—’
‘Nonsense,’ Frankie interrupted. ‘I’ll look forward to it. What time?’
‘Seven-thirty? Oh, and do you like chicken curry?’
‘Ah. Um, Jane, I’m vegetarian.’