ex-students with a loan to pay off.'
'Ah, yes. I gave you the tour, didn't I, when you first started working at the practice? I could smell your perfume for hours afterwards.'
'I'm sorry about that.'
'You needn't be. It was delightful.'
'As delightful as kissing me senseless on a summer night and then wishing you hadn't?'
He touched her cheek gently but she jerked her head away. 'We have all the time in the world, Fenella,' he told her. 'Remember that.'
CHAPTER FOUR
When Fenella arrived at the church hall the following evening, her glance went over those present and registered that there was no sign of Max's commanding presence.
Those who had the interests of the village at heart were chatting in small groups around the room, waiting for the meeting to start, and she hesitated on the threshold.
'Would you be Fenella?' a voice said from nearby, and when she looked up she found a tall youth with short dark hair and a strong resemblance to the missing Max observing her.
'Yes. I am,' she told him. 'And you have to be Will Hollister.'
'That's me, ma'am,' he said with a grin. 'I have a message from big brother.'
Her spirits sank. Max wasn't coming for some reason, she thought, and, sure enough, Will said, 'He had a phone call from the police just as we were leaving the house. He was coming here and I was on my way to the pub, so he asked me to make a detour to let you know that he mightn't be able to make it.'
'Oh, dear. Well, thanks for letting me know.'
'Why don't you come to the pub with me instead?' Will suggested, looking around him. 'These things drag on for hours.' The grin was there again. 'Max hasn't mentioned what a looker you are. I'd have introduced myself sooner if I'd known.'
'Listen, sonny,' she said laughingly. 'Don't get too fresh, or the next time you have to come to the surgery I might prescribe castor oil or an injection with a big needle.'
'It could be worth it,' he parried, and strolled off to the place where they were more interested in what was in their glasses than what was going on at the village hall.
So much for that, Fenella thought dismally as she found a seat and waited for the meeting to start. She and Max had met up that morning at the practice and with the happenings of the night before uppermost in their minds had exchanged guarded greetings. Any other conversation had been about the practice and its patients.
'Could you come in on my next consultation?' Fenella had asked him in the middle of the morning.
'Yes, of course,' he'd replied immediately. 'What's the problem?'
'I'm not sure. A Mrs Taverner has been passed on to us by the hospital. She has an infection in her leg that won't clear up. Apparently she broke her ankle some time ago and when they were cutting off the cast after the fracture had healed they caught her leg with the scissors and she's developed an MRSA-type infection.
'She's been going to the hospital for dressings, but now they've suggested she comes here to have it seen to as she is elderly and we are so much nearer. She has made an appointment for the leg to be seen by one of us before the nurses do anything with it and I don't feel qualified enough to handle it on my own.'
Max had frowned.
'I'm not surprised. It will be a mistake on the part of the receptionists to have passed Mrs Taverner on to you. I know her well, but this is the first I've heard about the infection. Yet I suppose it's understandable if they've been treating her at the hospital. It would seem from the sound of it that the scissors hadn't been properly sterilised, which is not acceptable. But unfortunately, due to human error, those sorts of things do happen. Where is she now?'
'Waiting for me to call her.'
'Then do it and we'll see what's what.'
Jane Taverner was a sprightly seventy-year-old and seemingly not too concerned about the sore place on her leg.
'I've been having it dressed at the hospital for twelve months now,' she told them, 'and, though it gets no worse, neither
'Ah, yes. I gave you the tour, didn't I, when you first started working at the practice? I could smell your perfume for hours afterwards.'
'I'm sorry about that.'
'You needn't be. It was delightful.'
'As delightful as kissing me senseless on a summer night and then wishing you hadn't?'
He touched her cheek gently but she jerked her head away. 'We have all the time in the world, Fenella,' he told her. 'Remember that.'
CHAPTER FOUR
When Fenella arrived at the church hall the following evening, her glance went over those present and registered that there was no sign of Max's commanding presence.
Those who had the interests of the village at heart were chatting in small groups around the room, waiting for the meeting to start, and she hesitated on the threshold.
'Would you be Fenella?' a voice said from nearby, and when she looked up she found a tall youth with short dark hair and a strong resemblance to the missing Max observing her.
'Yes. I am,' she told him. 'And you have to be Will Hollister.'
'That's me, ma'am,' he said with a grin. 'I have a message from big brother.'
Her spirits sank. Max wasn't coming for some reason, she thought, and, sure enough, Will said, 'He had a phone call from the police just as we were leaving the house. He was coming here and I was on my way to the pub, so he asked me to make a detour to let you know that he mightn't be able to make it.'
'Oh, dear. Well, thanks for letting me know.'
'Why don't you come to the pub with me instead?' Will suggested, looking around him. 'These things drag on for hours.' The grin was there again. 'Max hasn't mentioned what a looker you are. I'd have introduced myself sooner if I'd known.'
'Listen, sonny,' she said laughingly. 'Don't get too fresh, or the next time you have to come to the surgery I might prescribe castor oil or an injection with a big needle.'
'It could be worth it,' he parried, and strolled off to the place where they were more interested in what was in their glasses than what was going on at the village hall.
So much for that, Fenella thought dismally as she found a seat and waited for the meeting to start. She and Max had met up that morning at the practice and with the happenings of the night before uppermost in their minds had exchanged guarded greetings. Any other conversation had been about the practice and its patients.
'Could you come in on my next consultation?' Fenella had asked him in the middle of the morning.
'Yes, of course,' he'd replied immediately. 'What's the problem?'
'I'm not sure. A Mrs Taverner has been passed on to us by the hospital. She has an infection in her leg that won't clear up. Apparently she broke her ankle some time ago and when they were cutting off the cast after the fracture had healed they caught her leg with the scissors and she's developed an MRSA-type infection.
'She's been going to the hospital for dressings, but now they've suggested she comes here to have it seen to as she is elderly and we are so much nearer. She has made an appointment for the leg to be seen by one of us before the nurses do anything with it and I don't feel qualified enough to handle it on my own.'
Max had frowned.
'I'm not surprised. It will be a mistake on the part of the receptionists to have passed Mrs Taverner on to you. I know her well, but this is the first I've heard about the infection. Yet I suppose it's understandable if they've been treating her at the hospital. It would seem from the sound of it that the scissors hadn't been properly sterilised, which is not acceptable. But unfortunately, due to human error, those sorts of things do happen. Where is she now?'
'Waiting for me to call her.'
'Then do it and we'll see what's what.'
Jane Taverner was a sprightly seventy-year-old and seemingly not too concerned about the sore place on her leg.
'I've been having it dressed at the hospital for twelve months now,' she told them, 'and, though it gets no worse, neither
Similar Books
