âAT LAST!â
Emily turned into the health centre car park and killed the engine, glancing at her watch with a sigh of relief. She still had three minutes to spare, but only by the grace of God.
With a wry grin she recalled the advert for the job.
âFour-partner practice in rural North Devon urgently needs full-time replacement partner because of unforeseen retirement due to ill health. Must be on obstetric list and do minor surgery, CHS and IUCD. Most important qualification an ability to map-read â¦â
They werenât kidding! She had meandered back and forth across Exmoor, which would have been lovely if sheâd had time to appreciate the scenery, but she was determined not to be late.
The trouble was, the roads were all so tiny it was hard to tell which were major and which were minor. Assumptions, she had fast discovered, were a foolish luxury. Still, she was wise to their tricks now and read every single signâhence her arrival with threeâno, two nowâminutes to go before her interview.
She had spoken on the phone to the senior partner, Dr Allen, who had sounded very welcoming and encouragingâor was that just wishful thinking on Emilyâs part? Whatever, she would still have to run the gauntlet of the other two partners.
And she wouldnât do it sitting in the car.
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, dragging a comb through her thick dark hair. It swung neatly back into the bob, the ends curling obediently under, just grazing her shoulders. Her smoky green eyes, wide and incapable of deceit, stared unblinking back at her.
Just for courage, she winked at herself and her reflection winked cheekily back.
Here goes.
She got out of the car, locked it and strode confidently to the door.
The waiting-room was deserted, and the receptionist looked up with a smile. âCan I help you?â
âYes, Iâm Emily Thompson. Iâm here for an interview.â
The smile widened. âOh, hello, Dr Thompson. Dr Allen wasnât expecting you just yetâyou canât have got lost.â
Emily laughed softly. âOnly a little. The directions were excellent.â
âIâm glad you thought so. Iâm Sue Hooper, by the wayâreceptionist and general dogsbody. Iâll tell Laurence youâre here. Would you like to take a seat?â
âThanks.â
She settled herself in one of the hard, upright chairs and looked around. Tiled floorâpractical, but not very welcoming. Neat pile of magazines, but none of your glossies. Farmerâs Weekly, Womanâs Weekly, My Weekly, the odd Readerâs Digestâa far cry from her last practice in Surrey.
There were pictures on the wall, faded and fly-blown, and the paint had seen better days, but the health-promotion posters and clinic details were fresh and up to date.
She glanced towards the door that must lead to the consulting-rooms, and saw an indicator board, with names and coloured lights, clearly used to call the next patient.
She scanned the names, and her heart came to an abrupt and grinding halt.
Dr D Trevellyan.
David.
Her mouth felt suddenly dry, and she flicked out her tongue and ran it over her lips. It couldnât be. Surely not? Trevellyan was a common enough Cornish name, and here, only forty miles or so from the Cornish border, it wouldnât be so very unusual.
And besides, the last she had heard of David he was working in Londonâprobably destined for stardom as a Harley Street surgeon. God knows he had been a brilliant doctor even then, eight years ago. By now, with experience under his belt, he must be superb.
She glanced around the shabby, simple waiting-room. There was no way he would have to settle for this.
No, it couldnât be him. She hoped it wasnât, with all her heart, because quite apart from the fact that she wanted this job desperately for Jamieâs sake she wasnât sure she could bear to see him again.
Sue came back, followed by a tall, stooping man with twinkling blue eyes and a welcoming smile.
âDr ThompsonâIâm sorry to keep you. You made very good time. Iâm Laurence Allen.â
She rose to her feet, praying for calm, and returned his smile and handshake. âYou did specify an ability to map-read,â she reminded him.
He laughed. âYesâRobinâs idea. The roads are a bit like that, and the practice is very widespread. Come on through and meet him. Iâm afraid Davidâs not here at the moment, but he shouldnât be long. He had to go out on a call, but thereâll be plenty of time to meet him.â
David. Oh, God, no, it couldnât be â¦
âRight, youâll do, Joe. Take it steady, give yourself time to get over this before you get back out there.â
The old manâs wife gave a wheezy laugh. âMight as well save your breath, Doctorâyou know well as I do soonâs your backâs turned heâll be out there on the hills again.â
âJust give him the antibiotics and make sure he takes them regularly, Mrs Hardwill. Nothing you can do to help those that wonât help themselves, eh, Joe?â David fixed the old man with his best steely glare. âYou help me, and Iâll help you. I canât fix you without co-operation.â