I’ll have to think of somewhere to go.’
‘Abroad would be safest, and don’t tell anyone where you’re going! Not even me!’
Miranda let her gaze wander around the ward at the other patients. ‘Abroad, yes – but where, that’s the question?’
On the other side of the ward she noted Charles Leigh sitting beside a bed in which a really beautiful girl lay. A girl with hair like black silk, a smooth, golden skin and slanting dark eyes.
Dorothy saw her looking at them and said quietly, ‘She’s in here for tests. Poor girl, she keeps losing her babies and they’re trying to find out why. I had a long chat while we were both in the x-ray department. She’s foreign, I couldn’t make out whether she had said her name was Pam or . . . well, it sounded like Pan but that’s ridiculous.’
‘No, it really is Pan – short for Pandora. I just met her husband, in the waiting room. He’s English, but she’s Greek.’
‘She’s a lovely girl, seems very cheerful but I could feel how sad she was underneath.’
‘And she’s so beautiful.’
‘Very,’ her mother agreed, but her voice was vague. ‘How about Italy?’
Miranda blinked at her, bewildered. ‘What?’
‘You could go to Italy, get a job there.’
‘I don’t speak Italian.’
‘You don’t speak any languages.’
‘I know a little French.’
‘A very little,’ her mother said drily. ‘I suppose you could go to France, though.’
‘I was thinking of America or Canada – at least they speak English.’
‘Or Australia,’ Dorothy suggested with enthusiasm. ‘You can cook and use a computer – I’m sure you could get a job there.’
‘It’s an idea,’ Miranda agreed. ‘I’ve often thought of having a holiday in Australia and working there would be fun.’
Ten minutes later Nurse Embry arrived to wheel her back to her own ward.
‘I’m sorry to break up your chat, but a consultant is expected soon and visitors cannot litter the wards while he’s here. He’d be outraged. He likes a tidy ward.’
‘He’s one of the older generation,’ Dorothy tartly explained to her daughter. ‘Thinks the world revolves around him, treats patients like dolls, not human beings.’
As she pushed Miranda back to their own ward, Nurse Embry said with a chuckle, ‘Your mother is very funny. I wonder how she gets on with Sister? She is one of the old-fashioned variety, runs her ward as a military operation. These days hospitals are very different, they aren’t as strict and nurses won’t put up with being snapped at and bullied. Nor will patients.’
‘My mother certainly won’t.’
‘I could see that.’
They passed the waiting room where Miranda had sat for a while talking to Charles Leigh. There was someone else in there now. Another man whose profile seemed familiar, unless she was becoming paranoid. Miranda turned to glance at him and felt her heart crash inside her ribs.
‘What’s wrong?’ Nurse Embry asked, bending over her. ‘Hey, you’re hyperventilating. What is it?’
‘Don’t stop,’ Miranda gasped. ‘Go on, take me back to the ward, please.’
Nurse Embry hurried her along the corridor. ‘Can’t you tell me what’s wrong? Are you in pain?’
‘No, just . . .’ Miranda took one quick look backwards as they turned the corner but he wasn’t in sight, he hadn’t followed them. Perhaps he hadn’t seen them.
‘Upset? About your mother?’
‘Yes,’ she lied, because she couldn’t tell the nurse the truth. Had he really been there, in the waiting room? In a black leather jacket and a black shirt with no tie, casually relaxed. Didn’t he ever wear any other colour?
Had she simply imagined seeing him? What would he be doing in the hospital? Who could he be visiting? Whatever the truth, it was another of these unbelievable coincidences which kept happening to her. Her life, her world, had become chaotic with them.
Was he going to come to her ward? Her ears beat with the sound of her own blood. Her
‘Abroad would be safest, and don’t tell anyone where you’re going! Not even me!’
Miranda let her gaze wander around the ward at the other patients. ‘Abroad, yes – but where, that’s the question?’
On the other side of the ward she noted Charles Leigh sitting beside a bed in which a really beautiful girl lay. A girl with hair like black silk, a smooth, golden skin and slanting dark eyes.
Dorothy saw her looking at them and said quietly, ‘She’s in here for tests. Poor girl, she keeps losing her babies and they’re trying to find out why. I had a long chat while we were both in the x-ray department. She’s foreign, I couldn’t make out whether she had said her name was Pam or . . . well, it sounded like Pan but that’s ridiculous.’
‘No, it really is Pan – short for Pandora. I just met her husband, in the waiting room. He’s English, but she’s Greek.’
‘She’s a lovely girl, seems very cheerful but I could feel how sad she was underneath.’
‘And she’s so beautiful.’
‘Very,’ her mother agreed, but her voice was vague. ‘How about Italy?’
Miranda blinked at her, bewildered. ‘What?’
‘You could go to Italy, get a job there.’
‘I don’t speak Italian.’
‘You don’t speak any languages.’
‘I know a little French.’
‘A very little,’ her mother said drily. ‘I suppose you could go to France, though.’
‘I was thinking of America or Canada – at least they speak English.’
‘Or Australia,’ Dorothy suggested with enthusiasm. ‘You can cook and use a computer – I’m sure you could get a job there.’
‘It’s an idea,’ Miranda agreed. ‘I’ve often thought of having a holiday in Australia and working there would be fun.’
Ten minutes later Nurse Embry arrived to wheel her back to her own ward.
‘I’m sorry to break up your chat, but a consultant is expected soon and visitors cannot litter the wards while he’s here. He’d be outraged. He likes a tidy ward.’
‘He’s one of the older generation,’ Dorothy tartly explained to her daughter. ‘Thinks the world revolves around him, treats patients like dolls, not human beings.’
As she pushed Miranda back to their own ward, Nurse Embry said with a chuckle, ‘Your mother is very funny. I wonder how she gets on with Sister? She is one of the old-fashioned variety, runs her ward as a military operation. These days hospitals are very different, they aren’t as strict and nurses won’t put up with being snapped at and bullied. Nor will patients.’
‘My mother certainly won’t.’
‘I could see that.’
They passed the waiting room where Miranda had sat for a while talking to Charles Leigh. There was someone else in there now. Another man whose profile seemed familiar, unless she was becoming paranoid. Miranda turned to glance at him and felt her heart crash inside her ribs.
‘What’s wrong?’ Nurse Embry asked, bending over her. ‘Hey, you’re hyperventilating. What is it?’
‘Don’t stop,’ Miranda gasped. ‘Go on, take me back to the ward, please.’
Nurse Embry hurried her along the corridor. ‘Can’t you tell me what’s wrong? Are you in pain?’
‘No, just . . .’ Miranda took one quick look backwards as they turned the corner but he wasn’t in sight, he hadn’t followed them. Perhaps he hadn’t seen them.
‘Upset? About your mother?’
‘Yes,’ she lied, because she couldn’t tell the nurse the truth. Had he really been there, in the waiting room? In a black leather jacket and a black shirt with no tie, casually relaxed. Didn’t he ever wear any other colour?
Had she simply imagined seeing him? What would he be doing in the hospital? Who could he be visiting? Whatever the truth, it was another of these unbelievable coincidences which kept happening to her. Her life, her world, had become chaotic with them.
Was he going to come to her ward? Her ears beat with the sound of her own blood. Her
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