Unknown by Unknown

likely a diabetic coma,' she was pronouncing about ten minutes later. 'Has he no history?'
    'There is nothing to that effect in the admission notes and somebody will answer for that,' threatened Sister Evans in a voice that spelt doom for poor Chris Connor.
    'Not necessarily,' Yona disagreed. 'Occasionally a major episode like this is the first warning.' Hardly ever, in fact, but she wanted Chris to have the benefit of the doubt.
    She stayed a long time on the ward, waiting to be sure of her diagnosis, and by the time she returned to Outpatients the clinic was over. When she'd given Ted the details of the latest crisis he said, 'Mike left you a message. He thanks you for the invitation to your house-warming, but as he's on call next weekend he may not be able to come.'
    Yona had expected nothing else and she'd only asked him because it would have looked odd to leave him out when she'd asked all her other colleagues.
    Ted went on, 'He also said how surprised he was when he realised you'd bought a flat in his block.'
    'I've done what?' Yona was astounded. She'd left his invitation on the desk in his consulting room because she didn't know where he lived.
    'So you didn't know either, then.'
    'No, or I'd not have—' She broke off. To say she'd never have bought her flat if she'd known Mike would be a neighbour was just plain silly. Especially as they would probably come and go at different times. Besides, there was more than one entrance so why need they ever bump into one another? 'Are you quite sure you don't mind me taking Friday off again this week, Ted?' she asked quickly to cover up her apparent confusion.
    'How else will you manage to move in, my dear girl?' he asked, but he was wondering what it was that she'd almost said instead.
     
    'Stop fussing,' said Nonie Burke the third time that Yona got up to count glasses and rearrange the canapés.
    Nonie was not only a first-rate biochemist and A1 gossip—she had also been a great help in arranging the house-warming. She had produced an old schoolfriend who was now a gourmet party caterer and on good terms with the best cut-price wine merchant in town.
    Tonight, Nonie had turned up an hour early, wearing an apron over a shimmering gold silk catsuit because, as she said, if she'd offered her help, a proud stiff-necked Scot like Yona would have pretended she didn't need it.
    Yona knew she was fussing. She also knew why, and she didn't like what she knew. For a mature, successful woman of twenty-seven to revert to teenage angst behaviour just because she couldn't get on the right side of one wretched man was pathetic. Yes, you're absolutely pathetic, Catriona Jean MacFarlane, she was telling herself when the doorbell announced the first arrivals.
    They were the Burnleys—punctual as promised. Meg had seen the flat before on moving day, but this was Ted's first visit. He strolled round, glass in hand and admiring everything, while Nonie gave Meg the latest hospital gossip.
    It wouldn't be a large party—Yona hadn't been long enough in Salchester to acquire many acquaintances. There'd just be the staff from the unit with their partners, Nonie, who was temporarily without one, and Yona's near neighbour Gil Salvesen—if he could get away from the studio in time. Only Sister Evans had declined.
    Gil had been quite a find, a raffish, forty-ish, laid-back television producer with a roving eye which had soon homed in on his newest neighbour. He also had a wicked sense of humour and soon had Yona laughing whenever they met. She wasn't the least bit attracted to him.
    Guests were invited for drinks at eight, with a buffet supper to follow, so when neither Gil nor Mike Preston had turned up by nine Yona decided not to delay the meal any longer. They were all at the dessert stage by the time Mike appeared. He had come without the partner specified in the invitation and Yona supposed that must be because he was on call. He put a bottle wrapped in fancy paper on the hall table in passing,