The weekend came and went in a flurry of last-minute activity concerning the revue, so many things needed to be done before the curtain went up. Megan found herself roped in for more and more jobs, finding an article for the props team, photocopying extra music for the orchestra, even down to hastily stitching costumes on the opening night.
“Thanks, Sis, you’re a brick,” said Richard, dashing past as she sat huddled in a corner sewing and blowing her a kiss.
Megan glowered at him. “A brick, am I! Well, let me tell you that at the moment that is exactly what I feel like throwing at you. The amount of work you volunteered for me to do!”
Richard pulled a cheeky grimace and Megan smiled back. It was impossible to be cross with him for long, he had one of those sunny dispositions that charmed everyone. She guessed in the years to come he would have every patient eating out of his hand, and probably every nurse too!
Anyway, she didn’t really mind all the extra work. She hadn’t had a moment when she had been off duty to spare, so Giles Elliott had remained banished to the back of her mind, which suited her just fine. There was no time to dwell on the woman he called “darling” on the telephone, the one he couldn’t wait to see at the weekend. Even during the day there hadn’t been much time to think of him. The first really hard frosts of the year had arrived accompanied by a sprinkling of snow, and as usual Casualty had been inundated with minor fractures. At one point there had been seven patients with Colles’ fractures waiting in Casualty. Thanks to a speedy anaesthetist using the bier block technique and the efficiency of Giles Elliott, they had all been dealt with and sent home by the afternoon.
Megan was always amazed that the bad weather invariably produced such an influx of accidents. If it was frosty she felt people ought to be expecting it to be slippery and to be extra careful but they never seemed to take any precautions. It was just the same in autumn when the first leaves fell. The number of motor cyclists who skidded on the leaves and had to be brought into hospital had to be seen to be believed! However, this time she almost welcomed the influx of patients—it gave her a breathing space, a time when she didn’t have to think or worry about her emotions where Giles Elliott was concerned. The only things she had time to think about were the patients she was attending to, or the Christmas revue when she was off duty.
The revue, wittily called Doctorpussy, opened and proved to be a great success. On the first night when she had to do her scantily clad routine Megan felt terribly embarrassed, but with the audience falling about in the aisles with laughter she soon lost her inhibitions and began to enjoy herself too. All too soon it came to Saturday, the last night of the revue.
The Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny, bitterly cold with a fresh layer of snow, and it was with reluctance that Megan hauled herself from her warm bed. It was the last chance she had of going into town before Christmas, and there was some last-minute shopping she just had to do. It’s now or never she thought, wrapping her dressing-gown tightly around her and dashing into the bathroom opposite, getting across the draughty corridor as quickly as possible.
Once in town she trudged through the snow, in and out of the brightly lit stores. There seemed to be a million people there, and all with the same idea. The shops glittered and sparkled with Christmas decorations, the crowds shoved and jostled good-humouredly and the tune of “Jingle Bells” blared from every shop doorway.
Megan was heartily glad when she had made her last purchase and decided to treat herself to a well-earned coffee. She was making her way across a narrow side street towards a small coffee-shop when she noticed the young girl in front of her. The girl wasn’t looking where she was going; she was walking along, her bright fair head bent, listening to music from the earphones clipped to her personal stereo.
Megan heard the motor cycle coming but the girl didn’t, and nor did she see Megan waving her hand frantically. In panic Megan started to run, but the snow hadn’t been cleared in the side street and it slowed her down. The motor cyclist braked, and then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Megan reached the girl and tried to pull her out of the path of the motor cyclist, but he followed them in an uncontrollable skid, dirty snow splaying out either side of his wheels as he desperately tried to stop.
Afterwards Megan couldn’t remember exactly what had happened next, except that she found that both she and the motor cyclist were kneeling in the snow by the side of the girl. She had fallen and was lying with her parcels scattered around her and with one leg twisted beneath her.
“Are you all right?” Megan asked the motor cyclist quickly.
“Yes, I’m OK—the snow cushioned my fall. But what about her?” His face looked grim. “What shall we do?”
“Just help me,” said Megan firmly. “I’m a nurse. Everything will be all right, don’t worry.” She looked at the girl who stared back at her, her bright blue eyes filled with pain and fear. “Don’t be frightened,” said Megan gently, “Everything will be fine.”
“I’m OK,” said the girl, struggling to sit up, but as she did so she gave a little scream and fell back.
“I’m afraid you are not quite all right,” answered Megan. “I’m pretty certain you’ve broken your leg.” She turned quickly; by now a small crowd had gathered. “Can somebody please send for an ambulance right away?” she asked. Then she turned her attention back to the injured girl, reassuring her and making her as comfortable as possible in the circumstances.
The ambulance arrived on the scene and soon the patient was lying on the stretcher in the ambulance as it sped away towards the County General. Megan had to endure the police questioning as she was the principal witness, and had no alternative but to tell them that it had been entirely the fault of the nameless young woman.
“Thanks, miss, for your statement,” said one of the policemen finally. “We know where to find you if we need you again.”
By the time she actually got her very belated cup of coffee Megan felt she really needed it. She sat in the small Italian coffee-shop enjoying her cappuccino, its frothy top sprinkled with grated chocolate, and idly wondered who the young woman was. She wondered too how many other cases had gone into Casualty to keep the staff busy, all because of a little extra snow—although in the case of the girl and the motor cyclist, the snow had actually prevented a much worse accident. Silly girl, thought Megan. Someone should have stopped her wearing earphones while she was walking along in the street, or at the very least she should have looked where she was going.
Reluctantly Megan set off through the cold wet snow again to make her way back to the hospital. Just time for a short rest and a bath, then the final night of the revue and the party that followed it.
That night there was much merriment backstage before the revue, but for some reason it made her feel depressed. She hadn’t seen Giles Elliott to actually speak to for absolutely ages. She hadn’t even seen him at the revue, which was surprising as most of the consultants came.
Megan was ready and waiting in the wings for the opening number when Jamie Green squeezed into his place beside her. He was doing the lights and worked them from a small control board jammed in at the side of the makeshift stage.
“Fancy that about Giles Elliott’s daughter,” he said, fiddling about with his controls.
“About who?” asked an astounded Megan, hardly able to believe her ears. She had suspected that he was probably married, but even so, Jamie’s words came as a terrible shock. A cold splinter of ice went through her heart.
“Yes,” whispered Jamie, quite unaware of the havoc he was wreaking on Megan. “She came into Casualty today, knocked down by a motor cyclist apparently. Got off very lightly though—a small fracture of the lower end of the fibula. About fifteen years old and quite an attractive creature too,” he added.
“Fair hair?” asked Megan, everything suddenly clicking into place. She had known those bright blue eyes reminded her of someone, and the facial characteristics too, now she thought about it.
“Yes,” replied Jamie, looking up in surprise. “How did you know?”
Megan didn’t stop to enlighten him as she marched on with the rest of the cast for the opening number. The first sight that met her eyes as she galloped on stage was Giles Elliott sitting in the front row and by his side sat the young girl from the morning’s incident, her leg conspicuous in its fresh white plaster.”
How she got through the opening number Megan just didn’t know. Luckily for her she knew the routine backwards, which was just as well, she reflected later, because she felt so unnerved by the sight of him sitting in the front row that her brain refused to function.
While she was changing for her second sketch Megan mentally reprimanded herself. You knew he would probably come to the revue, she told herself. Be honest, you’ve been hoping he would come. Yes, but not with his daughter, her inner voice wailed in despair. Oh, be sensible, Megan told herself fiercely. You suspected he was married! You’ve wondered about it—well now you needn’t wonder any more; now you know! He is married, and he has brought his daughter along to prove it…
There wasn’t much more time to think before she was due on, this time in her scanty bikini to do the sketch with whichever consultant the boys at the front of house dragged up from the audience. She’d seen the Dean of the medical school also sitting in the front row and guessed it would be him; the students usually involved the Dean on the last night. So it was with surprised horror that she saw it was not the Dean, but Giles Elliott who was being dragged up on to the stage.
Her expression must have shown on her face although Megan thought she was doing a good job of disguising her feelings, for when he got near her Giles whispered, “I’m the one supposed to look horrified and reluctant, not you!”
“I…I thought it would be the Dean,” Megan whispered back.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” came the crisp aside.
The sketch commenced and Giles Elliott joined in with an enthusiasm that surprised and disconcerted Megan. All the week she had let her hair down and had enjoyed teasing the consultants, but not when the consultant was Giles Elliott. She felt shy and embarrassed, her cheeks were burning and she was sure her face must be the colour of a beetroot. Gritting her teeth she did the best she could and breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief when the sketch was over and she made her escape off stage.
Richard was waiting in the wings. “You were a bit off tonight, Sis,” he remarked. “I thought you would have given it all you’ve got on the last night.”
“I did the best I could—I’m not out to win an Oscar!” snapped Megan as she scurried past.
Richard raised his eyebrows in surprise at his sister’s unusual display of bad temper. Megan, for her part, was sorry she had snapped at him, but her nerves were distinctly frayed at the edges to say the least. All the time the same words were constantly running through her mind, repeating over and over again with a monotonous insistence. He’s married, he’s married… Try as she might, she couldn’t banish those words from her mind.
When the evening finally finished and the curtain went down on the revue for the last time, Megan would have given anything to have gone back to her flat and to have drowned her sorrows alone. But it was not to be; she was duty-bound to go to the after show party, but she determined not to stay too long.
With her face scrubbed of stage make-up and wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater, she was standing rather miserably in a corner with a glass of wine in her hand when Johnny Cox spied her.
He came zooming over in his usual enthusiastic way. “Say girl, what are you doing in this corner all by yourself? Where have you been all my life?”
“You know where I’ve been, Johnny,” erupted Megan irritably. She really didn’t feel like coping with Johnny’s extrovert behaviour at that point in time. Johnny, however, totally ignored the fact that her greeting was less than enthusiastic and propelled her vigorously across the room towards a group of people.
“Say, everyone, I have here one of the most ravishing nurses who appeared in the show tonight,” he announced to all and sundry. “Miss Megan Jones, tara!” He blew an imaginary trumpet fanfares with his hands and shoved Megan forward into the middle of the group.
Suddenly Megan was aware of the pristine white of new plaster again as she realised that sitting down in the midst of the group was Giles Elliott’s daughter, and by her side was the man himself.
“Ah, Miss Jones,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling, “perhaps you would care to autograph my daughter’s plaster?” He put his arm casually around his daughter’s shoulders. “Joanna, can I introduce Megan Jones, Sister in Casualty.”
Joanna looked up and the same vivid blue eyes quizzed Megan. Then she smiled. “Daddy, we have already met. This is the girl I told you about, the one who looked after me when I had the accident.”
Giles looked at Megan. “Is this true?” he asked.
“Yes, it is,” replied Megan. “But of course, I didn’t know then she was your daughter,” she added quickly.
“No,” he rapped. “If you had, perhaps you wouldn’t have told the police it was Joanna’s fault.”
“I most certainly would have done,” replied Megan, her brown eyes flashing indignantly. “The fact that she is your daughter doesn’t alter the fact that the motor cyclist was not to blame.”
“I really fail to understand how he hit her,” he said. “Surely he must have seen her? Are you certain you saw everything?”
Megan bristled. “Are you doubting my word?” she exclaimed angrily, forgetting where she was.
Joanna reached up and touched her father’s arm. “Megan is quite right,” she said. Then she heaved a big sigh. “I might as well tell you, because you’ll find out anyway sooner or later. I was wearing those earphones you hate so much and listening to pop music.”
“As you were walking along?” asked her father incredulously.
“Yes,” whispered Joanna in a small voice.
Megan glanced at him; his face was as black as thunder. Suddenly she felt sorry for the young girl. It had been a silly thing to do and now she was paying the price. Impulsively she reached out and touched Joanna’s shoulder.
“All’s well that ends well,” she said. Then she laughed, trying to bring a smile to Joanna’s rather worried-looking face. “I think we can safely tell your father that you won’t be doing it again.”
“You bet,” said Joanna gratefully, thankful for Megan’s intervention. “In fact, if you like, Dad, you can sell them. You can put the money towards that hi-fi I’ve been wanting,” she added cheekily, seeing her father smile.
“I’m sorry I doubted your word for a moment,” he said slowly to Megan, adding, “One is always protective towards one’s children, you know.”
“I wouldn’t know,” replied Megan a trifle sharply. “I haven’t got any!”
Before Giles Elliott had an opportunity to reply, her brother Richard joined them. He took one look at Joanna and it was quite obvious he liked what he saw. “Can I help you across to the refreshment table?” he asked her.
Joanna glanced questioningly at her father, who smiled and nodded in reply. “Yes, that would be lovely,” she responded and off they went, a crutch supporting her on one side and Richard on the other.
“Can I get you any refreshments?” Giles asked Megan.
“No thanks,” said Megan shortly. She didn’t feel like socialising, least of all with Giles Elliott who had not only turned out to be married, but who had also doubted her word into the bargain.
“Oh, come on,” he said in a soft, persuasive tone of voice that caused Megan’s heart to churn with bitter anguish. “Do have a sausage roll at the very least.”
“It isn’t even Christmas yet, and already I feel that if I see another sausage roll I shall scream!” said Megan ungraciously.
Giles Elliott chuckled. “My goodness, if it wasn’t so late at night I’d say you had got out of bed the wrong side!”
Megan felt a little ashamed; there was no need to be so churlish with him. After all, he had probably assumed that she had realised he was married all along and he didn’t know what romantic fantasies she had been weaving around him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know I seem bad-tempered. I’m tired, that’s all.”
“Come with mc,” he said, grasping her arm firmly and steering her across the room. “I know the Dean has some rather more exciting bottles than those which are out here, reserved for consultants and wives only.”
“But I’m not your wife,” protested Megan.
“No, but you’re my friend, and that’s good enough,” he replied. So Megan found herself squashed into a small side room with a large balloon glass of brandy in her hand. Giles clinked his glass with hers. “Better?” he asked.
Megan stared down at the golden brown liquid eddying around the glass. Was it better or not? She wasn’t sure. Why, oh why does he have to be married, nagged the voice at the back of her mind. The brown eyes she raised to his were troubled, but her lips smiled as she stifled the thoughts and said, “Yes, much better thanks.” She touched her glass merrily against his and took a huge gulp of the fiery liquid.
The Dean, Professor Smithson, came across. “Pleased to meet you, my dear,” he said to Megan. Then he winked. “I envied this chap here, I can tell you,” he nodded at Giles. “But I was pleased to see that our newest consultant joined in the spirit of things.”
Megan blushed at the embarrassing memory. “I don’t know how I ever let myself be talked into doing that sketch,” she said.
“I’m very glad you did,” said Giles, his blue eyes dancing. “It isn’t every day I get the chance to lay my hands on attractive young women!”
“Quite, quite,” said the Dean, absent-mindedly pouring himself another brandy and then wandering off clutching the bottle to his ample front.
“I think that’s the last you’ve seen of the brandy,” said Megan, glad of an excuse to change the subject.
“I’m sure you’re right,” replied Giles with a rueful smile. “Come on, let’s go and find out what the rest of the party is doing, and I’ll see if I can find you something more exciting than a sausage roll. Maybe there is some caviar.”
“And maybe there isn’t,” replied Megan, laughing at such a notion.
The party was in full swing, the disco blasting out music at an ear-splitting level. They found Richard and Joanna sitting in a corner chatting, Joanna with her leg resting on two chairs.
“Daddy,” she exclaimed when she saw them coming, “Richard has invited us down to Devon for Christmas. He has rung his mother, and she says she would be delighted. I’ve said yes—is that all right?”
Megan stared with amazement and horror at her brother. What ever could have got into Richard? Fancy inviting Giles Elliott, his wife and daughter to their home for Christmas! Whatever must he be thinking of?
“But what about your mother? She must be asked,” she said to Joanna, voicing her thoughts aloud.
“Well, what about her?” replied Joanna looking surprised. “She won’t be coming.” Then, seeing Megan’s obviously puzzled look, she laughed. “Sorry, I thought you knew. Daddy and I are quite alone this Christmas, nobody at the house in London and a horrible hospital flat here. I’ve been moaning about it to Richard and he said you lived in a big house by the sea.”
“We do,” replied Megan, wondering where on earth Joanna’s mother, Giles Elliott’s wife, was. “But we shall only be having a very quiet Christmas, rather an old-fashioned one.”
Joanna clapped her hands with glee. “That’s just perfect,” she said, “I’ve never had an old-fashioned English Christmas.”
“Perhaps Megan would prefer Christmas with just her own family,” interrupted Giles. “Just because you are enthusiastic, my dear, you mustn’t forget other people’s feelings.”
Joanna’s faced dropped a mile. “Oh no,” she said. “I hadn’t thought of that. It was silly of me, I’m sorry.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” said Megan quickly, not really knowing what else she could say, “and I know my mother will be absolutely delighted. She likes nothing better than cooking. It will be the perfect excuse for her to cook mountains of food.” Acutely aware of Giles Elliott’s questioning gaze on her, she forced a bright, if somewhat brittle laugh. “The only thing is, you will have to promise to eat every single thing she cooks.”
“I will,” said Joanna, her eyes shining, “and Richard has said he may take me up on to Dartmoor to see the meet of the hunt on Boxing Day.”
“So that’s settled then,” said Richard with satisfaction. “All we’ve got to do now is to organise the travelling arrangements. I was going with Sis, I mean Megan,” continued Richard turning to Giles, “but if you are coming too perhaps I could take Joanna down a couple of days before, as I shall be free then, and you could bring Megan when you both get off duty on Christmas Eve.”
“Richard,” interrupted Megan sharply, “I’m sure Mr. Elliott has got plenty of things planned to do before Christmas. He is a very busy man.”
“Nonsense, I’m not that busy,” answered Giles, “and for goodness’ sake don’t call me Mr. Elliott! Joanna, I know, would love to start her holiday early.” He raised his eyebrows quizzically at Megan. “Unless, of course, you have any objection to driving down with me? I can assure you I’m quite a safe driver.”
“No, I don’t have any objection,” Megan was forced to admit, “it’s just that…”
“Then it’s agreed,” interrupted Giles, raising his glass in a salute to her. “Let’s all drink to our Christmas together.”
Dumbly Megan raised her glass in a toast. There was nothing she could do; it was a fait accompli and that was that. It would have looked very bad-tempered and ungracious to have tried to protest. So it was agreed that Richard would drive Joanna down the following Wednesday in Megan’s little car, and Giles would bring Megan down on the Friday afternoon, which was Christmas Eve.
Richard, with Joanna hobbling at his side, went off to the students’ bar, leaving Giles and Megan alone.
“Do you mind?” he asked, coming straight to the point. “I know you were rather bulldozed into the arrangement.”
Megan lowered her expressive eyes uncomfortably. Did she mind? How could she say to him that if he wasn’t married she wouldn’t mind at all—in fact she’d be over the moon? But no, she thought wryly, you certainly can’t tell him that! So she said instead, “No, of course I don’t mind. Why should I?”
“I just thought you didn’t seem overenthusiastic, that’s all,” came the reply.
“I…I was surprised,” said Megan quickly. “I thought you would have something more interesting to do at Christmas.”
Giles smiled and put an arm lightly around Megan’s shoulders. “You’re a funny little thing, Megan Jones,” he said. “I never know what is going on inside that pretty head of yours.”
At his touch Megan stiffened; every fibre of her being prickled with awareness of him. “I just thought you would be spending Christmas with exciting, glamorous friends in London, or with your wife,” she said at last, making herself mention the word wife.
“My wife is dead, and we usually spend Christmas with her sister Fiona,” he said casually, “but not this year—the first time for ten years. That is why Joanna is so excited at the prospect of a real English Christmas.”
“Oh,” was all Megan was able to manage, unable to think of anything else intelligent to say. She was dying to ask when his wife had died, and why did he always spend Christmas with her sister. The unspoken questions fell over one another in her mind, but her lips remained silent. Giles for his part didn’t elaborate any further, and the opportunity to continue the conversation passed by as Richard and Joanna made their way back towards them.
“I think Joanna’s getting tired now, sir,” said Richard to Giles respectfully.
“Yes, I am, Dad,” chimed in Joanna, “and my leg is aching a bit.”
“Can’t say I’m exactly surprised,” said her father with scant sympathy. “You should be grateful that all you’ve got is a leg in plaster and a bit of an ache.”
“Oh I am! Don’t be cross,” said Joanna, hanging on to his arm.
Giles smiled down at his daughter, the tender look belying his words. He loves her a lot, though Megan, a dull ache in her heart as she wondered what else there was in his life that she didn’t know about. Unhappily she thought about his sister-in-law. She instinctively felt that there was a strong link between Fiona and Giles, but why she should feel that way she didn’t know. There was no logical reason, nothing he had said apart from the fact that they always spent their Christmases there; it was just an intuitive feeling she had.
After Giles Elliott and his daughter had left the party, Richard was so full of Joanna this and Joanna that, that Megan didn’t have the heart to grumble at him. She did, however, have a word of warning for him. “I can see you’ve taken a fancy to Joanna,” she began.
“You can say that again,” said Richard dreamily. “Hasn’t he got lovely hair—and those eyes!”
“She is only fifteen,” Megan reminded him, “and the daughter of the Casualty Consultant. You are nearly twenty-one and that is a lot older.”
“Rubbish,” answered Richard indignantly. “She’s nearly sixteen, anyway.”
Megan sighed. Who was she to be telling her brother who to fall for? She hadn’t been very sensible herself, but thank goodness nobody knew how she felt. “I’d better ring Mum,” was all she said, “to see if there is anything extra in the way of shopping she would like me to take down.”
“Oh, Giles is going to do that,” said Richard. “I gave him the telephone number; he said he wanted to speak to Mum because he doesn’t intend to come empty-handed.”
“We don’t need charity, Richard,” interrupted Megan crossly. “If you invite people, you invite them—you don’t ask them to bring things.”
“For goodness’ sake, Sis,” Richard exploded, “you’re so touchy lately! If I didn’t know you better I’d say you were in love! I didn’t ask him for anything, he insisted. He wants to take something for Mum.”
Megan sighed again. Of course Richard was right, she could just imagine Giles Elliott insisting. But, brother Richard, you don’t know how near you are to the truth, she thought ruefully. “Sorry,” she said, “I am a bit snappy, I know. Put it down to old age!”
Richard laughed. “Old age?” he said, “You look ridiculously young, especially in those old jeans and without any make-up. When you and Joanna were standing by the side of Giles Elliott you could have been sisters.”
It was Megan’s turn to laugh now. “That’s silly, Richard,” she said. “But now you mention it, Giles Elliott told me the other day that I looked ridiculously young and I didn’t take it as a compliment.”
Richard laughed. “He probably meant it as one,” he said. Then he added, “I wonder how old he is? He’s probably aged prematurely because of all his problems.”
“Aged prematurely?” said Megan. “Richard, just because the man has a few silver hairs at his temples does not mean to say he is in his dotage! Anyway, what problems?” she asked, trying not to sound too curious.
“Well, I don’t know exactly,” replied Richard, “but Joanna hinted that there were still problems between her mother’s family and her father. Even though her mother has been dead for years and her aunt has lived in America for some time.”
“Ten years at least,” said Megan. “He told me they always spent Christmas there.”
“Poor kid,” said Richard with feeling. “No wonder he feels lonely. She didn’t tell me very much, just enough for me to know that she is unhappy. Giles Elliott and her mother were divorced, you know, before her death.”
Megan suddenly remembered the phrase Giles had used during their conversation at dinner; they say history always repeats itself… He had suffered divorced parents and an unhappy childhood, and now it seemed that his own child was suffering.
Long after she had gone to bed that night, Megan lay and puzzled about the situation between Giles Elliott and his wife’s family. She was sure that was the clue to Joanna’s unhappiness, not just the fact that her mother was dead.
She turned restlessly. She had always imagined herself falling in love with a man who would love her and her alone, no one before or after. But in her heart of hearts she knew that was a romantic dream for teenagers only. The harsh reality of life was that there wasn’t a choice. Someone came along and you fell in love, regardless of their suitability. There is only one thing to do, she thought finally. Just regard him as a friend and don’t get emotionally involved! Although quite how she was going to manage that she didn’t know, and spending Christmas with him wasn’t going to make it any easier.