there, her head bent intently over the filing cabinet.
‘I’m off!’ Phoebe called cheerfully, poking her head through the sliding glass panel that screened off the reception area from the waiting room. ‘Shouldn’t you be, too?’
‘In theory, yes,’ Sally confirmed darkly. ‘And I’m meant to be meeting Marty at seven. I’ll never make it now.’
‘Why not?’
‘Ellen wants this lot refiled by tomorrow.’ Sally gave the manila folder in her hand a harassed look. ‘I did mean to do it earlier, but it’s been one of those days. Mrs Dennis’s waters broke in the middle of Fran’s clinic, then Will wanted me to track down Mr Henshaw’s results from the Infirmary and they didn’t—’
‘I get the picture,’ Phoebe interrupted, halting the flow with a raised hand. ‘How about if I help?’
‘You?’
‘Is there some problem with that?’
‘You’re a doctor,’ the young woman replied, as though that said everything.
Phoebe grinned. ‘Where I used to work everybody was expected to muck in together. I’m probably better at scrubbing floors than filing, but I’ll do my best,’ she promised the astonished girl. ‘By the way, what’s the latest news with Mrs Dennis?’
‘Another boy, seven pounds eight ounces.’
‘Did she make it to the hospital this time?’ From what Phoebe understood, Angela Dennis was famous locally for having so far produced one baby in the back seat of a Ford Escort and the other on the steps of the maternity unit. Theregulars at the village pub had been running on book on where she’d have it this time.
‘With three minutes to spare.’ Sally went on to recount to an amused Phoebe her own particular formula for a pain-free birth which, as far as Phoebe could tell, mainly consisted of thinking positive thoughts.
‘Well, it never does any harm to be positive,’ she responded tactfully when asked her opinion. Privately she hoped Sally wasn’t going to be in for too much of a shock when her time eventually came to put her theory to the test!
They finished the filing in about twenty minutes.
‘How about a lift home?’ Phoebe asked to halt Sally’s embarrassing gratitude.
‘Thanks, but I borrowed Mum’s car today. I’d better go and tell Ellen I’m off.’
‘Is she working late, too?’
‘If Dr Carlyle is here, she’s working late,’ came the cynical response.
Phoebe hadn’t known Con was in the building. Now she did know, hanging around didn’t seem such a good idea. Keeping a tight lid on her panic, she grabbed her coat and bade Sally a hurried goodnight.
The door of Connor’s office was open as she approached, and the stress of this discovery sent her heart rate sky high. It suddenly occurred to her as she was about to hurry past the open door that there was no point in putting off the inevitable—they were going to bump into each other some time, and how bad could it be? Very bad, an unco-operative voice in the back of her head replied.
Good idea or bad, she was committed now. Taking a deep breath, she tapped lightly on the door and walked in. The room was empty. Phoebe accepted this reprieve with a hefty sigh of relief.
She turned to leave before her luck ran out and found herself facing a wall filled with a large water-colour. It wasn’t Penny’s usual style, but a painting of a quaint seaside village in Wales Dad had taken them to most years when they’d been children. She pressed a hand to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. She heard the very distinctive sound of Ellen Patterson’s heels close by and willed the tears to recede.
‘Do you like it?’
‘Very much.’ Phoebe was able to respond in a composed manner as the other woman came to stand beside her.
‘Connor’s wife did it, I believe. She was actually a very well-known botanical artist.’
‘Yes, she was.’
‘You know her work?’
Phoebe lifted her chin and turned to face the other woman. Ellen’s blonde hair was smooth, sleek and as faultlessly presented
‘I’m off!’ Phoebe called cheerfully, poking her head through the sliding glass panel that screened off the reception area from the waiting room. ‘Shouldn’t you be, too?’
‘In theory, yes,’ Sally confirmed darkly. ‘And I’m meant to be meeting Marty at seven. I’ll never make it now.’
‘Why not?’
‘Ellen wants this lot refiled by tomorrow.’ Sally gave the manila folder in her hand a harassed look. ‘I did mean to do it earlier, but it’s been one of those days. Mrs Dennis’s waters broke in the middle of Fran’s clinic, then Will wanted me to track down Mr Henshaw’s results from the Infirmary and they didn’t—’
‘I get the picture,’ Phoebe interrupted, halting the flow with a raised hand. ‘How about if I help?’
‘You?’
‘Is there some problem with that?’
‘You’re a doctor,’ the young woman replied, as though that said everything.
Phoebe grinned. ‘Where I used to work everybody was expected to muck in together. I’m probably better at scrubbing floors than filing, but I’ll do my best,’ she promised the astonished girl. ‘By the way, what’s the latest news with Mrs Dennis?’
‘Another boy, seven pounds eight ounces.’
‘Did she make it to the hospital this time?’ From what Phoebe understood, Angela Dennis was famous locally for having so far produced one baby in the back seat of a Ford Escort and the other on the steps of the maternity unit. Theregulars at the village pub had been running on book on where she’d have it this time.
‘With three minutes to spare.’ Sally went on to recount to an amused Phoebe her own particular formula for a pain-free birth which, as far as Phoebe could tell, mainly consisted of thinking positive thoughts.
‘Well, it never does any harm to be positive,’ she responded tactfully when asked her opinion. Privately she hoped Sally wasn’t going to be in for too much of a shock when her time eventually came to put her theory to the test!
They finished the filing in about twenty minutes.
‘How about a lift home?’ Phoebe asked to halt Sally’s embarrassing gratitude.
‘Thanks, but I borrowed Mum’s car today. I’d better go and tell Ellen I’m off.’
‘Is she working late, too?’
‘If Dr Carlyle is here, she’s working late,’ came the cynical response.
Phoebe hadn’t known Con was in the building. Now she did know, hanging around didn’t seem such a good idea. Keeping a tight lid on her panic, she grabbed her coat and bade Sally a hurried goodnight.
The door of Connor’s office was open as she approached, and the stress of this discovery sent her heart rate sky high. It suddenly occurred to her as she was about to hurry past the open door that there was no point in putting off the inevitable—they were going to bump into each other some time, and how bad could it be? Very bad, an unco-operative voice in the back of her head replied.
Good idea or bad, she was committed now. Taking a deep breath, she tapped lightly on the door and walked in. The room was empty. Phoebe accepted this reprieve with a hefty sigh of relief.
She turned to leave before her luck ran out and found herself facing a wall filled with a large water-colour. It wasn’t Penny’s usual style, but a painting of a quaint seaside village in Wales Dad had taken them to most years when they’d been children. She pressed a hand to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. She heard the very distinctive sound of Ellen Patterson’s heels close by and willed the tears to recede.
‘Do you like it?’
‘Very much.’ Phoebe was able to respond in a composed manner as the other woman came to stand beside her.
‘Connor’s wife did it, I believe. She was actually a very well-known botanical artist.’
‘Yes, she was.’
‘You know her work?’
Phoebe lifted her chin and turned to face the other woman. Ellen’s blonde hair was smooth, sleek and as faultlessly presented
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