‘You can stay with me,’ Sam said briskly. ‘Get your things together and let’s get out of here.’

Megan frowned. ‘Stay with you?’

He smiled. ‘That’s what I said. My house is plenty big enough and you can stay in my guest room. None of this is your fault, and you shouldn’t have to be wasting time looking for accomodation.’

‘But I—’

‘Never mind but…’ He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, pushing her in the direction of her bedroom. ‘Go and put a few things in a bag.’

She started to object, but she realised the futility of her protests. He wasn’t going to listen. She had seen him in this mood before; once he had made his mind up that was it.

When Joanna Neil discovered Mills & Boon®, her lifelong addiction to reading crystallised into an exciting new career writing medical romances. Her characters are probably the outcome of her varied lifestyle, which includes working as a clerk, typist, nurse, and infant teacher. She enjoys dressmaking and cooking at her Leicestershire home. Her family includes a husband, son and daughter, an exuberant yellow Labrador and two slightly crazed cockatiels.

Recent titles by the same author:

THE FATHER OF HER BABY

CITY-GIRL DOCTOR

THE CHILDREN’S DOCTOR

Her Consultant Boss

Joanna Neil

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

‘JENNY, have you seen my medical bag? I can’t find it anywhere, but I was sure I put it down somewhere in here.’ Megan looked around the room distractedly, harassed and in a hurry. ‘I’m running late, but I know I’m going to need it, and the last thing I want to do is to start off badly today of all days.’

On her first morning in a new job she couldn’t afford to have anything go wrong, could she? Things were going to be difficult enough for her as it was, starting work in a hospital that was strange to her, and with a boss she had never met before, without her turning up late as well on her first day.

Jenny had been buttering toast, but now she frowned and wiped her hands on a teatowel, looking around the breakfast chaos of the small, usually neat kitchen. ‘I thought I saw it on the Welsh dresser just a moment ago.’ Her brows met in a tiny furrowed line, and she turned to look at her small son, Ben. ‘Have you seen Megan’s medical bag, Ben?’

Three-year-old Ben didn’t answer. He was sitting at the table, preoccupied with his breakfast, taking no notice of anything that was going on around him. His set of toy dinosaurs was lined up on the breakfast table, nose to tail, but he wasn’t playing with them. He was engrossed with eating toast fingers and he didn’t even look up when his mother spoke to him. That was a little bit odd, Megan thought, but that was the way Ben was, and perhaps he was simply absorbed in what he was doing.

‘Gone.’ Josh, just two years old, eighteen months younger than his brother, his mouth smeared with strawberry jam, looked up and pointed a sticky, chubby finger towards the dresser. ‘Ben hided it.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Jenny shook her head and sighed. ‘I might have guessed. I can see that it’s going to be one of those days.’ She grimaced. ‘I’ll go and look in the cupboard—that’s where I usually find things that have strangely disappeared.’

Megan went and sat down at the table opposite Ben. She smiled at him, watching the way he lined up the toast soldiers across his plate. He was totally absorbed in what he was doing, the tip of his tongue protruding slightly from his pink lips as he concentrated.

‘Are you making a pattern?’ Megan asked. ‘Perhaps we could make something together when I get home from work. I’ll show you how to cut bits of coloured paper and how to make patterns with them if you like.’

She wasn’t sure that Ben had heard her. He didn’t look up at her and he didn’t answer, and just then Jenny came back, holding the briefcase.

‘Here you are. I found it in the cupboard, just as we thought. I’m sorry about that, Megan. I don’t know what gets into his head sometimes, but he’s always hiding things away. I’ve no idea why he does it.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Megan said, relieved that it had been found. ‘I’m sure he was just playing.’

She gave her sister a quick, concerned look. Jenny was thinner than she ought to be, the strain of the last few weeks showing on her delicate features. Her chestnut-coloured hair tumbled in dark, wispy strands around her face, making her look more than usually pale this morning. Her blue eyes were troubled, giving her a haunted look, and that worried Megan.

Mindful of her need to get to work on time, she still hesitated, wondering if there was anything she could do to make Jenny feel better.

‘Will you be all right today?’ she asked. ‘You look weary this morning. Have you still not had a good night’s sleep?’

‘Not really.’ Jenny didn’t say any more, and Megan searched her face for clues as to what she was thinking.

‘I wish I could stay and keep you company, or do something to help. We could meet up at lunchtime, if you like, and spend some time together.’ She felt sure that it would help if Jenny was able to talk her problems through, but instead she mostly kept things bottled up inside and tried to stoically get on with her life.

‘No, there’s no need for you to do that,’ she said now. ‘I’ll be fine. Josh had a difficult night, that’s all, wanting to come into my bed again, and that always makes me feel tired in the morning. You’d think he had eight legs the way he wriggles about. Anyway, you have enough things on your mind.’

She began to gather up the breakfast dishes from the table. ‘The first day in your new job, you don’t want be thinking about us. You have your own problems to concentrate on. Anyway, you’ve done so much for us, as it is, just being here and helping out, and I know it hasn’t been easy for you, with everything being so cramped here. We’ll manage. I’m just glad that you were able to move up here to be near to us. It’s been a great comfort to me, just knowing that you are close by.’

Megan squeezed her hand. ‘I’m glad about that—that’s why I’m here after all. And as to it being cramped here, we knew it wasn’t going to be easy with me moving in. It was never going to be for more than a few weeks, and it won’t be long before I find a place of my own.’

Jenny’s face clouded, perhaps because she had mentioned moving out. Jenny had needed her, still needed her, and Megan wanted to do what she could to help. That was the main reason why she had left the Midlands and come to Wales—apart from wanting to get back to her roots.

‘I know things have been difficult for you lately, with Tom taking off suddenly, but I’m sure he’ll come back. He probably just needs time to himself to think things through. And in the meantime, I shall be here for you. Even when I move out, I’ll still be close by and I’ll be able to help you get through this. I’m here for a six-month placing at the hospital, and after that finishes, I’ll look for something local. Things will get better, you know.’

‘Maybe.’ Jenny tried a weak smile and then made an effort to pull herself together, starting to pile crockery into the sink.

Megan blinked at the clatter and glanced at her watch. ‘Heavens, I must get a move on. I have no idea what this new boss is going to be like, but he won’t think very much of me if I arrive half an hour after everyone else.’

‘Good luck, Megan,’ Jenny said. ‘I hope everything goes well for you.’

‘Thanks.’ With a sudden quiver of uncertainty, she asked, ‘Do I look all right? Will I do?’

Jenny gave her a swift, appraising look. ‘You look wonderful. I like your hair done up like that. I just wish I had your figure and your sense of style. Whatever you wear looks good on you, and I’ve always thought that colour suited you. It’s a lovely soft peach, and the skirt fits you like a glove.’

Megan absently brushed a hand over her skirt. She hoped the length was about right. It just skimmed her knees, and she worried a little in case it showed off too much of her long legs. Still, she did feel good in this colour, it was gentle and cheerful, and the skirt, she thought, teamed well with the soft cashmere sweater.

She pulled in a quick breath. ‘I’d better go.’

She bent down to kiss Ben and received a jammy hug from Josh, and then she waved a quick goodbye to Jenny. ‘I’ll see you later. Give me a ring if you change your mind about lunch.’

‘I shan’t. I’ll take the children to the park. Off you go, and stop worrying about me. I’ll be just fine.’

Megan doubted that, but she went out and started up her car. It was a ten-minute or so drive to the hospital in the centre of town, provided that there were no traffic problems.

She tried to relax and drink in the scenery of rolling green hills and distant mountains along the way. Jenny lived in a pretty little fishing village fairly close to a small harbour, a peaceful and picturesque landscape that added to her feeling that it had been a good move, coming to work in this place.

Megan arrived at the hospital a few minutes later and parked the car in the nearest available spot in the car park. Looking up at the sprawling red-brick building, she pulled in a deep breath to calm herself in preparation for the day ahead, then walked in through the main entrance.

She had been here just once before, on the day of her interview, and now, as then, she was overwhelmed by the alarming wealth of passageways and the confusing maze of clinical buildings and wards and operating theatres and administrative offices. She floundered for a while, taking a couple of wrong turnings, before she finally found her way to the annexe where she was to be working for the next few months.

The unit was housed on the third floor of the building, an impressively clean and bright part of the hospital where patients were welcomed into a room furnished cheerfully with attractively upholstered seating, and low tables filled with magazines and decorated with the occasional potted plant. There was a television in the corner of the room and one or two patients were watching an episode of a talk show as they waited to see a doctor. At the far side of the room there was a fish tank, carefully set out with coloured gravel, a diving bell and an assortment of rocks and green underwater ferns.

She looked around her, wondering where to go next. A corridor led away from the waiting room, and there were half a dozen doors, which presumably opened up into surgeries along the way.

‘Are you new around here?’ A young man—DR WILL SANDERSON, REGISTRAR, she gathered from the label on his white coat—was looking at her quizzically. ‘I guess you’re not a patient, or you would have gone to Reception.’ He glanced over at the desk where nurses and clerks were talking amiably.

‘No, you’re quite right,’ she said. ‘I’m looking for Dr Sam Benedict’s room. I’m supposed to be at a meeting, but I got lost.’

‘Ah.’ Dr Sanderson smiled knowingly. ‘You must be one of the new members of his team. You’ll find him along the corridor, just straight ahead. You can’t miss it—his name’s on the door.’

‘Thank you.’ Megan gave him a grateful smile and sped along the corridor.

Pausing to get herself together, she knocked briefly on the door and heard a murmured voice telling her to come in.

Pushing open the door, she looked into the room. Four people were in there—three men and a woman—seated around a table. They all turned to look at her as she walked in, the woman, an attractive blonde, assessing her with cool green eyes.

It was one of the men who held Megan’s attention, though. Even seated, as he was, she guessed that he would be tall. He was at least a head higher than the others, with broad shoulders outlined by the expensive cut of his grey suit. His jet-black hair was cut short to frame a face that was strong-boned, and his features were well defined, his nose straight, the jaw firm and his mouth pleasingly moulded.

His glance flicked over her, taking in her appearance from head to toe.

She couldn’t tell whether he approved or not. He said in a deep, gravelly voice, ‘You must be Dr Llewellyn.’

Megan nodded, all too conscious of several pairs of eyes watching her. ‘That’s right. I’m so sorry that I’m late, but I got a little lost.’

The slant of his mouth didn’t soften by a fraction. ‘I’m relieved that you managed to join us in the end.’

He waved a hand to one side of the table. ‘Take a seat. We’ve already made a start, so I’ll update you when the meeting finishes.’

She attempted a weak smile, but said nothing, fearful of disturbing the proceedings any further. She edged her way into the vacant chair.

Dr Benedict continued as if there had been no disruption. ‘You will each have your own quota of patients,’ he told them, ‘and you will report back to me at some point during each day. If there are any queries that you want to raise at that time, just let me know and we’ll discuss any problems that you have.’

‘How will the patients be allocated?’ the blonde woman doctor enquired in a lilting voice. ‘Are we allowed to choose which ones will be on our list?’

‘To some extent,’ Dr Benedict agreed. ‘For the moment, though, I think it might work out for the best if you start with patients that I have chosen for you. After a week or so you’ll have some say in which cases you want to handle, although I may decide that certain patients would benefit from being with a particular doctor. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave that to my judgement for the time being.’

The woman gave him a beautiful smile. ‘Of course.’

Megan watched as Dr Benedict responded with a brief curve of his mouth. His whole face changed, lightened. He was a very good-looking man, and younger than she had expected. She guessed he was in his mid-thirties, and if that was the case, he had done very well to reach the position of consultant at such an early age.

He clearly got on well with the young woman seated next to him. From what she had observed so far, he listened to her and appeared to respect her point of view.

It wasn’t very likely that he would give her the same treatment, Megan mused dully. His manner had been polite enough on the surface, but there had been a hint of censure in his tone and she had the unhappy feeling that she had well and truly blotted her copybook. Turning up late, albeit only by a few minutes, had definitely been a bad move.

The meeting continued, with Sam Benedict outlining the way the psychiatric unit operated. Patients were referred here by their GPs for initial assessment, and the team, working with Dr Benedict, would decide what treatment would help them best.

‘We deal with people who might sometimes have what appear to be obscure symptoms,’ he said, ‘but it’s vital that you always take a full medical history—and try to remember that one of your best diagnostic tools is simply to listen.’

That was very much what Megan had always believed. So much could be missed by not giving the patient a chance to talk. She had come across examples herself, several times, when she had been working through her six-month house officer placings.

There had been the woman who had complained of an odd assortment of aches and pains and headaches, and she might have been treated for a simple viral infection until she’d happened to add that she worked with chemical substances. It had turned out that it had been those that had been affecting her.

Then there was the man who—

A sardonic, dark-edged voice broke into her errant thoughts. ‘Are we boring you, Dr Llewellyn?’

Megan came back to the present with a start. She stared wide-eyed at Dr Benedict and said in a flustered tone, ‘I—I’m sorry… Did I miss something?’

‘I was asking,’ he said in a low drawl, ‘whether there were any questions you wanted to ask.’

‘Er—um…none that I can think of at the moment,’ she managed weakly. She didn’t doubt there were bound to be a whole load of things she wanted to know once she got her brain back together again, by which time it would be way too late.

His mouth made a taut line. He turned back to the group. ‘Then I think that’s all I want say for the moment,’ he said briskly. ‘I suggest that you take the next hour or so to glance through your patients’ files and familiarise yourself with them. This afternoon we’ll do a ward round and you can help each other out with possible diagnoses. Tomorrow we shall be running a clinic and you will be assigned to work with either myself or Dr Sanderson.’

He gave a brief smile. ‘Thank you, everyone, for your time and your…attention.’ He flicked a glance towards Megan. ‘Perhaps you’ll be good enough to stay behind for a few moments, Dr Llewellyn.’

‘Of course.’ She winced inwardly. Was she in trouble? She hadn’t exactly made a good start.

The others filed slowly out of the room, picking up folders of case notes that had been allocated to them as they went.

Megan waited until the room was empty before she said in a halting tone, ‘I must apologise again for arriving late. It’s just that I’ve only been here once before and everything seemed so strange. It’s such a huge building and the signs aren’t all that easy to follow.’

His grey eyes narrowed. ‘Lucky for us, then, that the patients seem to know where to come,’ he remarked dismissively, and instantly Megan felt chastened.

She cleared her throat. ‘You said that you wanted to see me?’ she queried, lifting her chin and deciding that she had done enough apologising for one day. Flyaway strands of her hair, defying her attempts to tame it with pins, drifted with the movement, and he shot her a dark glance. Perhaps the sun, filtering in through the window blinds, had caught the tawny strands and condemned her even more in his eyes. That auburn, fiery tint often reflected the underlying obstinacy of her nature that could one day be her undoing.

‘That’s right. I do.’ He came to half sit, half lean on the table by her side, and his proximity alarmed her momentarily. She felt dwarfed by him. He was tall, just as she’d expected. His legs were long, and as he stretched them out beside her she could see the fabric of his trousers stretching against taut thighs. She blinked and tried to clear the sudden heat haze that fogged her mind. Get a grip, Megan, she told herself. He already thinks you’re an idiot, without you giving him any more cause for complaint.

‘We haven’t had a chance to meet before today,’ he was saying, ‘because, unfortunately, I wasn’t able to interview you myself.’

She noted that he put a faint emphasis on the word ‘unfortunately’. He was obviously regretting that omission already.

‘I had to go to an emergency meeting that afternoon,’ he went on, ‘and I had to ask a colleague to take my place. As I recall, you weren’t able to make the journey a second time.’ He studied her. ‘All of which means, of course, that I know very little about you except what is in your references and my colleague’s report.’

‘What is it that you want to know?’ Megan asked.

His eyes lanced into her, but revealed nothing of what he was thinking. They were as dark and unfathomable as the North Sea. ‘You were doing a house officer job in the Midlands—what was it that made you want come up here? And why did you choose psychiatry? As far as I can gather, you haven’t had any experience in that field up to now.’

‘My last house officer stint was in paediatrics, which I love,’ she explained, ‘but I wanted to widen my experience. I wanted to know more about psychiatry, and I thought there might also be the possibility of my working with children, here in Wales.’

‘We do have a paediatric unit, that’s true, and I’m sure you’ll find yourself working with children some of the time. I must say, though, that I’m not altogether sure that you will be suited to this kind of work. I’ve seen nothing in your background that suggests that you have any interest in it. You’ve studied accident and emergency, obstetrics, general medicine, but nothing so far that points to a leaning towards psychiatry. Is it possible that you are thinking of changing course at some point and training as a GP?’

‘Up to now,’ Megan said huskily, brushing an invisible speck from her skirt, ‘I have concentrated on becoming a hospital doctor. I don’t know whether I would change my mind and want to work in general practice.’

His glance followed the movement of her hand and slid down to dwell on the shapely curve of her legs. He looked away and then stood up abruptly. ‘You might find it better to think ahead and come to a decision about which branch of medicine you want to specialise in. It won’t do your career any good if you flit about.’

She cleared her throat. ‘You’re right, of course, but at the moment I see nothing wrong in widening my areas of expertise. That way, when I finally decide what I want to do, I’ll know that I’ve made the right choice in the end.’

‘Perhaps.’ He looked at her thoughtfully, and then walked over to the coffee-machine that stood on a shelf in a corner of the room and started to fill a mug. He glanced across at her. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee? The others had some earlier.’

‘Thank you, yes, I would.’ She realised suddenly that she was parched. Nervous anxiety was drying her throat and perhaps it showed in her voice. Maybe that was why he had made the offer.

‘Do you have family here in Wales?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘As a matter of fact, I do. I have a sister who lives not far from here. I’ve been staying with her for a week or so while I look for a place of my own.’

‘What about the rest of your family? Do your parents live around here?’

‘My mother lives in central Wales, so I should be able to see her on a fairly regular basis.’

She was too far away to be able to help Jenny as much as she would have liked, and Megan knew that her mother was relying on her to do what she could for her younger daughter while she was going through trying times.

He handed her a cup of coffee. ‘Help yourself to cream and sugar.’ He stirred his own coffee carefully, with deliberation. ‘You say that you’re looking for a place of your own—haven’t your arrangements with your sister worked out?’

‘They’ve worked perfectly well,’ she answered coolly. Was he determined to look for faults? ‘It’s just that she only has a small house and things are rather crowded, since she has two children, my nephews, living there as well, and I don’t want to be under her feet for any longer than necessary. That’s why I’m looking for a place of my own, one that is fairly close by. It would have to be near to the hospital as well, of course.’

‘Of course—if only to ensure that you get here on time,’ he murmured.

Megan felt a flush of pink colour rise in her cheeks. ‘Well, yes, that too, it goes without saying. I’ve made enquiries at various agencies, but so far they haven’t come up with anything that fits the bill.’

He was thoughtful for a moment, and then said, ‘It depends what you’re looking for, of course, but I do know of a place that might suit you. It’s about half a mile from here, a one-bedroomed flat, in a house that has been split into four self-contained units. Some work was being done on it, but I think it might be available soon if you want to go and have a look at it.’

She nodded. ‘I would, yes.’ She was surprised that he was taking an interest, but, then, he had pointed out an ulterior motive, hadn’t he? It wasn’t far from the hospital and that would ensure her being on time. ‘Who do I have to see about keys?’

‘Go down to the hospital’s accommodation office, and Mrs Carter will sort things out for you. She’s the one who sees to arrangements of that sort.’

‘Thank you. I will.’

He looked at her sharply. ‘Don’t thank me. I simply want to be sure that you have no excuse not to do your job properly. I already have misgivings about accepting my colleague’s judgement where you’re concerned. It was only that your qualifications and your references seemed to justify his faith in you. Make sure that you don’t let him down.’

Sparks flared in her blue eyes. ‘I won’t.’ The insinuation that she might do less than her best annoyed her. ‘I always work to the best of my ability.’

‘Let’s hope so. I shall be watching you, Dr Llewellyn.’

She had no doubts about that, and she winced inwardly once more at the prospect. He’d made it plain enough that he would be a thorn in her side for the next six months!

CHAPTER TWO

MEGAN was determined not put a foot wrong the next day. She didn’t want to give Sam Benedict any more opportunity to find fault with her, and so she spent the morning working on routine tasks assigned to her, following up queries on patients’ notes and organising treatment schedules. That way she managed to keep a low profile and stay out of his way.

She couldn’t avoid him for ever, though. In the afternoon, when they assembled in his office after lunch, he homed in on her and said, ‘What’s happening with those files you were working on? How far have you got with them?’

Her heart sank. Was he expecting her to have finished them by now? She would have liked a little more time, but his grey gaze flickered over her, giving her no room to manoeuvre.

‘I’ve managed to get a good two-thirds of the way through,’ she answered cautiously, trying to inject a positive note into her voice. ‘It shouldn’t take me too long to finish the rest.’

He grimaced. ‘You’d better leave them for now. I want you and Dr Jones and Dr Morgan to work with me this afternoon.’

She had failed again. He turned to Julie Neville, the beautiful blonde, who was doing her best to ensure that she was standing by his side. ‘Dr Neville,’ he said with a smile, ‘you will be working with Dr Sanderson. Some of his patients might be of special interest to you, given your background of experience with women and postnatal depression.’

Julie tried not to show her disappointment. ‘If you think that’s best,’ she murmured doubtfully.

‘I do.’

‘Very well.’ Since there was very little she could object to in the arrangement, she withdrew gracefully enough from the group. ‘I’ll come and find you at the end of the day and let you know how it went.’

‘That’s a good idea.’

Julie retreated to go off in search of Will Sanderson, and Sam Benedict turned to the rest of them.

‘We’re going to spend the next couple of hours in the children’s unit,’ he said. ‘I’m hoping that you’ll find it a useful experience.’ He looked at them to see if anyone might venture to disagree. Since no one did, he waved a hand towards the door. ‘Well, then, if you would like to follow me…’

He led the way along the corridor and through double doors which opened up into a bright, cheerful area where big yellow footprints trailed across the floor towards a children’s playroom. Megan looked up and saw that there were big, fluffy, painted white clouds dangling from the blue ceiling.

‘There’s an observation lounge through here, where we can look in on a play session,’ he remarked. ‘I think you’ll find it interesting.’

He stood to one side, waiting as they all filed into the room, and then he pointed out a large glass view panel. ‘The glass window is a special one,’ he commented. ‘You can see into the room, but no one in there can see you.’

Megan looked through the panel into the playroom beyond. A little boy was walking around, looking at all the toys and games that had been set out on tables and shelves. He was grimacing, moving jerkily and kicking out at the tables as he passed them by. A woman, presumably a therapist, was pointing out various activities to him, though he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to what she was saying.

‘I want you to watch what is happening in there and tell me if you come to any conclusions,’ Dr Benedict said, handing out copies of the child’s case notes. ‘Matthew is six years old, and his mother is becoming quite concerned about his behaviour. He takes little notice of what she tells him, and she is increasingly worried about his habit of pulling faces and making odd gestures. There are problems at school, too. According to his teachers, he isn’t making progress in quite the way that they might have expected, and they feel that he can sometimes be disruptive and inattentive, and answer questions with inappropriate or nonsensical remarks.’

He showed them where they could stand and watch the proceedings. Megan stood to one side of the view panel, ignoring the case notes for a moment while she watched the little boy work his way around the room.

At this moment he appeared more confident and was rushing around from one table to another, but then he stopped and sat down, seeming to be momentarily unsure of himself. The therapist spoke to him but he didn’t appear to be taking much notice of what she was saying. After a minute or two, though, he suddenly stood up and swerved away from her and swooped on a table where soft toys had been set out. He picked them up one by one and danced them round the table.

It wasn’t long before he lost interest in that exercise, too, and turned to see what else there was for him to do.

At the side of the room, a jigsaw caught his attention. He began to chuckle and gathered the pieces up in his hands, dropping them like a shower of confetti on to the table so that some of them fell to the floor. Then he sat down and simply stared at them until the therapist came to stand beside him.

She spoke to him but once again he ignored her and after a moment or two he began to pick at his clothes in an odd fashion, before continuing to study the pieces on the table.

Megan briefly turned her head towards Sam Benedict and asked quietly, ‘Has he been here before? Is the room familiar to him?’

He shook his head. ‘No, this is his first visit.’

They watched him for a few minutes more, and then Sam looked at David Jones and James Morgan and asked, ‘What do you think? Any suggestions as to what might be his problem?’

‘I think it’s probably a case of attention deficit disorder,’ Dr Jones said confidently. ‘He totally ignored what the therapist was saying to him at one point.’ He was a young man with a shock of fair hair that tumbled over his forehead and caused him to push it back from time to time.

‘And possibly hyperactivity as well,’ Dr Morgan added, rubbing a hand thoughtfully over his jaw. ‘He seems excitable at times, with all that rushing about, and then at others he appears to dismiss what the therapist is saying to him and does what he pleases instead.’

He was a year or two older than Dr Jones and Megan had found that she got along well with him. He had a wry sense of humour that she appreciated.

‘And what treatment would you recommend?’

‘Given that the school has noted his lack of attention and excitability, I would suggest that he attends a child guidance clinic. We should probably ask for social worker involvement, too,’ James responded. ‘There may be a problem at home that needs to be looked into. According to the case notes, there’s a younger brother, so there may be some sibling rivalry.’

David added, ‘It might be a good idea to bring in an educational psychologist to liaise with the school.’

‘Hmm… Is there anything else?’

‘Well, they do say that some cases respond to treatment with Ritalin, though I don’t know what the long-term situation would be if we went down that road,’ James murmured. ‘I imagine that we would assess him every six months or so to check on his progress.’

‘And what is your opinion, Dr Llewellyn?’ Sam Benedict turned to Megan, his grey eyes narrowing sharply on her. ‘You’re keeping very quiet. Are you in agreement with what has been said so far? What do you think should be done?’

Megan swallowed carefully. ‘I wouldn’t like to say, at this stage,’ she returned evenly. Dr Benedict lifted a dark brow, and she added cautiously, ‘I would prefer to talk to the child myself before I made any decision, especially one that would involve a barrage of specialists invading his life.’

His mouth made a wry shape. ‘If that’s what you want, by all means go in and spend some time with the child. While you’re occupied with him, the rest of us will sit here and talk for a while.’

He probably thought that she was wasting everybody’s time, but she went ahead anyway, leaving them to it. She had never believed in practising medicine at a distance. To her mind, you needed to talk to a patient to be able to really understand what was going wrong.

Matthew studied her suspiciously as soon as she entered the room, glaring at her from under dark lashes. He had dark hair, cut short and spiky, and to her he looked like a very young and vulnerable little boy who was unsure of the adults around him.

She gave him a smile. ‘Hello, Matthew,’ she said gently. ‘Don’t mind me. I’ve never been here before, and I thought I would come and have a look around. There are lots of things in here to play with, aren’t there? I don’t know which I would choose for myself. What sort of toys do you like best of all?’

‘Trains,’ he said. Then, clearly warming to the subject, he went on, ‘You put them on the track and they whizz round and round and up and down over the bridge, and then they crash off the lines and everything falls over.’ He paused for a moment, then added grumpily, ‘They haven’t got one here.’

Megan looked around. ‘No, you’re right. I can’t see one. That’s a shame, isn’t it? Do you have a train set at home?’

He didn’t answer, appearing to lose interest in the conversation. He stared straight ahead at the pieces of the jigsaw. Megan tried again. ‘What do you like playing with when you’re at home?’

There was still that blank stare, then after a moment or two he picked up a couple of pieces of the jigsaw and slotted them into place. He selected another piece and studied it carefully. ‘This one’s part of the slide—see? It’s red, and the children like playing on it,’ he said seriously.

The picture on the jigsaw box showed a children’s playground, and she guessed that he was imagining the scene.

‘They look happy, don’t they?’ She glanced at his face, and asked, ‘Do you like doing jigsaws?’

He shrugged his shoulders, and at that moment she became aware of Sam Benedict standing by her side. She had been absorbed in her conversation with Matthew, and didn’t know how long Sam had been standing there.

She looked up at him. ‘Sorry—have I been too long?’

‘Not at all. You should take as long as you think you need.’ He pulled up a seat and sat down next to Matthew. ‘Have you been all right, here, Matthew? Is everybody looking after you properly?’

‘They haven’t got a train set,’ the little boy complained. ‘I’m not coming here again.’

‘Haven’t they? I’ll have a word with Miss Maxwell about that,’ Sam said, his face taking on a serious expression. ‘What about everything else here? Is there anything else you would like to do—what do you like doing most of all?’

‘I like going to the playground with Mummy and my little brother.’ Matthew’s brown eyes widened. ‘We go up and down the slide and we go on the roundabout. I like that.’

Sam grinned. ‘Yes, it’s fun, isn’t it? I remember doing that when I was your age.’ He winced. ‘It seems a long while ago now.’

Thinking about Sam Benedict whooshing down a slide in his impeccable grey suit, Megan tried to hide a smile and failed miserably. Looking up, she caught his lancing grey gaze fixed on her and she quickly tried to turn the smile into a cough, without much success.

He looked down at the slim gold watch on his wrist and said, ‘Matthew, I’m sorry, but Dr Llewellyn and I have to go now. I’ll come and talk to you again if you decide to come in and see us another day. I would really like to see you again, you know, and if you like I’ll have a word about getting that train set for you to play with next time you come in. What do you think? Would you like to give it a try?’

Matthew pursed his lips for a moment, and then relaxed. ‘All right,’ he agreed. ‘I’ll see what my mummy says.’

Sam nodded. ‘Good, I’m glad to hear it. I’ll look forward to seeing you again.’

He and Megan left a minute or so later, going back to the observation lounge. Megan looked around and was surprised to see that David and James were no longer there.

Following her glance, Sam murmured, ‘I’ve sent them off to deal with some case notes. I thought perhaps you and I might talk for a while longer.’

‘If that’s what you want.’ She hoped he wasn’t going to persuade her that the boy needed to go down the route of assessment at a child guidance clinic, or that he needed to be on medication such as James had suggested. ‘I should tell you now,’ she said cautiously, ‘I don’t like the idea of using Ritalin with young children.’

‘Nor do I, and it isn’t common medical practice here to use such drugs.’ He waved her towards the double doors, holding one open to allow her to walk through. ‘Are you saying that you agree with James’s and David’s diagnosis now?’

Megan shook her head. ‘No, I’m not. In fact, after seeing Matthew, I believe that we should do some tests before we go any further.’

‘What sort of tests did you have in mind?’

‘Blood tests and an EEG.’ The electroencephalogram was a painless procedure, and it would give her a measurement of the tiny electrical signals produced inside the brain.

‘Is this your experience as a paediatrician coming to the fore,’ he remarked drily, ‘or are you reluctant to believe that a seemingly disruptive and inattentive child could have psychiatric problems?’

She flashed him a cool blue glance. ‘Perhaps it’s just that I prefer to make a decision based on all the facts. I can’t see that it would do any harm to take a simple blood test, and at least it would serve the purpose of eliminating other possibilities.’

Sam’s eyes darkened. ‘I can see that you’re a woman who’s prepared to stick to her guns.’ He made an expansive gesture with his hands. ‘OK, go ahead. Do your tests, and report back to me with the results—just make sure that you get on to the lab to hurry things along. I don’t want to keep Matthew and his parents waiting for any longer than I have to.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Oh—right, yes, I’ll do that.’ His answer had caught her by surprise. She had been expecting an argument.

He shot her a quick, penetrating glance. ‘Well—what are you waiting for? Hadn’t you better go and get on with it? Matthew isn’t going to be hanging around all day, you know.’

Flummoxed, she said, ‘No—no, of course he won’t. I’ll go and see to it right away.’

‘Do that.’

She watched him as he strode along the corridor towards the double doors. He was a powerful figure of a man, long-legged, lean and muscular, his whole body exuding energy.

Did he still think she was wasting everybody’s time? He was a complete mystery to her, she decided. She had absolutely no idea what went on in the man’s mind.

Even so, she couldn’t help feeling a growing tinge of respect for him. At least he wasn’t standing in her way—he was giving her the opportunity to do what she thought was right, even if he thought she was on the wrong track. He had shown that he was prepared to listen to her, and he wasn’t going to stand in her way as long as she was clear in her reasoning.

She hurried away to make preparations for the tests…best not to delay, or give Sam any reason to change his mind.

It was a couple of hours later when she finished work for the day, and she decided to call in at the accommodation office on her way out to ask for the keys to the flat Sam had mentioned. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look at it.

She hurried back to Jenny’s house once that had been done. ‘Do you want to come with me and have a look at the flat, Jenny?’ she asked. ‘It might be a good idea to let the children take a look. That way, Ben will get used to it right from the first. You know how he always has a problem with anything new and any change to his usual routine—we might as well show him from the start, so that he doesn’t have a problem when you visit me.’

‘Is this the one your boss mentioned?’ Jenny asked.

‘That’s right. As far as I know, it’s not on the market at the moment because some work is being done on it. The brickwork is being pointed up, I think, and the outside lighting is being updated, as far as I can gather, along with some general redecoration.’

‘That sounds like quite an overhaul,’ Jenny murmured. ‘It doesn’t sound as though it will be very comfortable, living there. There’s no rush, you know. You don’t have to move out right away.’

‘I know. But I am in the way here—my stuff takes up so much room, and it’s not fair on the children to be crowded out like this, having to share a bedroom. Besides, I’m sure Tom will be back before too long, and you won’t want me around then.’

Jenny shook her head sadly. ‘I don’t think he’s going to come back, but if you’ve made up your mind to move out I’ll do what I can to help. It sounds as though this place might be what you need.’

‘Well, at least it’s not too far away, and it’s fairly close to the hospital, so things should work out reasonably well if it’s suitable.’

‘I’d like to see it.’ Jenny turned to the children and explained, ‘We’re going to have a look at a new flat where Auntie Megan might be going to live. You can have a few minutes more to play, and then I want you to get ready to go and see it.’

‘It might look a bit of a mess,’ Megan told the children. Mrs Carter had warned her that work was still going on. ‘The workmen are trying to fix up the outside of the building.’

‘Me take my tools and fix it,’ Josh stated, his eyes widening with excitement, his little chin jutting with determination.

Jenny smiled. ‘I don’t think we can stop him,’ she murmured. ‘He takes his toolbox everywhere with him.’

Ben resisted at first, but Jenny drew in a deep breath and explained again what they were going to do. Over the years she had learned that it didn’t do to hurry him or spring anything new on him.

Half an hour later, they set out. It didn’t take them long to get there, and from the first Megan was impressed with what she saw. The flat was in a neat block of houses built of mellowed red brick, and it was clear from the outside appearance that the property had been well maintained.

Megan looked at the children. ‘Shall we go in and have a look?’

‘Me go.’ Josh was keen to get inside, but Ben hung back.

He dug his heels in, and when Jenny tried to gently coax him into going with them he began to shriek in protest.

‘You can’t stay out here,’ Jenny told him firmly, and when he continued to hang back she led him forward, telling him all about what they were going to see.

Megan marvelled at her patience and began to unlock the front door. Ben immediately tried to reach up to lock it again.

‘He’s got a thing about locks,’ Jenny said in a rueful, harassed tone. ‘And handbags, and briefcases—come to think of it, he has a problem with anything that needs to be opened and closed.’

‘Perhaps it’s just locks and clasps,’ Megan suggested as they walked into the living room.

It was a large room, furnished simply with a softly upholstered lounge suite that blended easily with warm-coloured curtains and carpet. There was a glass-fronted display unit along one wall and a neat writing desk along another. That would be useful, Megan thought, when she had to concentrate on her studies in the evenings.

Warm afternoon sunlight filtered in through a wide window, and she went to look out. The view was magnificent.

She said happily, ‘Come and look at this, Jenny—I can see the park from here. Isn’t that lovely? We’ll be able to take the children to play there.’

Jenny came over to the window and looked out. ‘You’re right, that’s fantastic. What a glorious view.’

Josh had already rushed forward and was tugging at his mother’s skirt, anxious to see for himself. Jenny picked him up and showed him the view of the parkland with the river meandering gently in its midst.

Megan turned to look at Ben. ‘Would you like to come and look?’ she asked him.

Ben hung back, and she added, ‘I bet you could draw a lovely picture of this. You like drawing, don’t you? I brought some pencils with me. You could do a picture of the ducks sitting on the water.’

Her words didn’t have much effect on him, and Jenny said quietly, ‘You know, sometimes I wonder if he can hear properly. If he can’t, perhaps that’s why he gets so frustrated and acts up. I don’t know what to do. It’s as though I can’t reach him at all, and it makes me so unhappy. I can’t think why he’s the way he is.’

‘It’s possible that he’s a little bit deaf, I suppose,’ Megan said. ‘I can make arrangements for him to be tested if that’s what you want.’ She wasn’t altogether sure that that was Ben’s problem, though. There were times when he seemed to hear the faintest of sounds. ‘Do you think part of his problem could be that he’s missing his father?’

Jenny was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Perhaps. It certainly doesn’t help, but I don’t think it’s just that. His behaviour seems so odd at times, and there were problems long before Tom went away. It’s just that it’s so much more difficult for me to cope since he left us.’

Her shoulders slumped a little. She looked tired and depressed, Megan thought, and it was hardly surprising. Looking after two young children was a lot for anyone to cope with singlehanded.

‘Tom does keep in touch, though, doesn’t he?’ she asked. ‘Didn’t you say that he talks to the children on the phone and comes to see them every week?’

Jenny nodded. ‘Yes, he does. It’s not the same as having him around, though. The children miss him.’

‘I’m sure they do.’ Megan made up her mind there and then that she would try to have a word with Tom fairly soon. He and Jenny had always seemed like a happy couple to her, and she would never have imagined that he would want to leave his family. It seemed so out of character for him to behave that way.

They looked around the rest of the flat, and Megan was pleased to see that there was a little balcony running around the back of the building, looking out onto the park. At the moment it was cluttered with ladders and various bits of equipment left behind by the workmen, and that surprised her a bit. She would have expected them to clear up at the end of the day.

Still, when they were finished, she guessed that she would be able to sit out here on a warm afternoon and relax. She smiled, seeing that Josh was already in his element, taking out his plastic toy hammer and bashing everything in sight.

‘What do you think?’ Jenny asked, raising her voice above the din he was making. ‘It looks good to me. Do you think you’ll take it?’

Megan nodded. ‘I do like it. I think I could settle in here fairly quickly.’

Once she had made up her mind, everything was set in motion fairly quickly, and by the weekend she had moved in. She had told Mrs Carter that she didn’t mind if the workmen were around for a short time.

She soon got to know the people who shared the building with her. Her immediate neighbour was a woman in her early thirties, a single parent who had two young boys. The children came to see her as she was carrying boxes into the flat, offering to help her.

‘OK, thanks,’ she accepted with a smile. ‘I could do with a helping hand.’ Jamie, the youngest, was eight years old and wanted to know everything about her. His older brother, Jack, was ten.

‘Did you have a removal van come and bring all your furniture?’ Jack asked.

‘No. Most of the furniture was already here.’

‘My dad helps people move house,’ Jack volunteered. ‘He doesn’t live with us any more. He has a van and he goes around moving furniture for people. He says it does him in, with all the lifting, but that’s because he smokes. Do you smoke?’

‘No, Jack. I never have done. I don’t think it’s very good for you.’

Jack mulled that over. ‘It makes my dad cough. He says he’ll have to cut down… I think maybe I won’t start smoking.’

Megan nodded. ‘I think you’re very wise.’

They had been busily fetching and carrying for about half an hour, and she was just about to offer the children a glass of lemonade when there was an almighty crash, followed by the sound of a boy howling, and she rushed out onto the balcony to see Jamie on the floor, clutching his ankle.

She rushed over to him. ‘Let me have look at you, Jamie…show me where it hurts,’ she said quickly.

‘It’s my foot.’ White-lipped, Jamie looked up at her, the pain showing on his face. ‘Have I broke it?’

‘I don’t think so,’ she murmured, carefully examining the ankle. There was some swelling, but she didn’t think the damage was too bad. ‘I think you’ve just twisted it, Jamie. Stay there, and don’t try to get up. I’ll go and get a bandage for you.’

She glanced at Jack, who was watching and looking concerned for his brother. ‘Jack, will you stay with him?’

He nodded.

Megan quickly went and found her medical bag, and came back to crouch down beside Jamie so that she could set about strapping up the ankle. ‘Jack, will you go and fetch your mother? Tell her what’s happened.’

He sped off, glad to have something to do.

Megan concentrated on examining Jamie. It looked as though he had a nasty sprain.

‘There, does that feel a little better?’ she asked after a while.

He nodded, and she said lightly, ‘How did you manage to fall over?’

‘I tripped over the ladder. I forgot about it.’ He looked at his freshly bandaged ankle. ‘Are you sure it’s not broke?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I’m sure. It will be painful for a day or so, and you might need to rest it for a while, but there’s no serious damage.’

By this time his mother had come hurrying along to see what was happening. ‘Is it bad?’ she asked anxiously. She knelt down to comfort her young son.

Megan shook her head. ‘No. He’s twisted his ankle, and I imagine it must be painful for him. He’ll probably need to take paracetamol for a day or so until he feels better.’

His mother nodded. ‘I’ll see to it that he has some. It was really good of you to help. Thank you for looking after him.’ She pulled a face. ‘You know, it’s about time those workmen finished up here and moved all their stuff. If they hadn’t left it lying about, this wouldn’t have happened.’

Megan could see her point. ‘I think I’ll have a word with the landlord,’ she said.

‘I’ll be all right, Mum. You don’t need to say anything to him about it,’ Jamie said.

His mother shook her head. ‘It isn’t right to leave things like this. We were lucky that it was just a twisted ankle. It could have been much worse.’ She led Jamie away, and he was still protesting as they went in through their door.

Megan went back inside her flat and phoned the accommodation officer, Mrs Carter, and explained what had happened. ‘Perhaps you could let the landlord know that there’s a problem,’ she said. ‘I think it’s something that should be dealt with fairly soon. Maybe he could have a word with the workmen?’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Mrs Carter said. ‘I expect he’ll be in touch before too long.’

Megan went back into the living room and tried to sort her belongings into some kind of order. Luckily, the flat was equipped with lots of shelves and cupboards and there was plenty of room to store everything away. It wouldn’t be too long before she had everything the way she wanted it. For the moment, though, she contented herself with adding a touch of colour to the place with cushions and rugs and some of her favourite ornaments.

When she had finished she went and soaked in the bath for half an hour, glad of the chance to relax in the scented water. Coming back to Wales had been a good move, she decided. She was back with her family, and although her new job had its own difficulties, she would do her best to make things turn out well.

The doorbell rang as she was towelling herself dry. Frowning, she pulled on a soft robe and belted it around the waist. Who on earth would that be at this time of the evening?

Opening her door a fraction, she was startled to see Sam standing there.

‘Oh!’ she said in surprise. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’

His glance drifted over her, taking in the soft robe that clung to her like a second skin and gliding down over the smooth expanse of her bare legs, before returning to rest on the tousled mass of her auburn curls.

‘So I see,’ he drawled, a glint of something unreadable darting in his grey eyes. ‘Perhaps I should have rung first…although I would have expected Mrs Carter to have let you know that I was coming here.’

‘Mrs Carter?’ she echoed faintly. ‘I don’t think I understand…’

He lifted a dark brow. ‘You don’t?’ He studied her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Perhaps she didn’t tell you that I’m your landlord?’

Megan felt her world tilt on its axis. Sam Benedict was her landlord as well as her boss?

She groaned inwardly. She had just complained about conditions at the flat she was leasing from him. Was there no end to the trouble she could land herself in?

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.