elisabeth scott - the disturbing dr. sheldon

THE DISTURBING DR SHELDON

by

ELISABETH SCOTT

CHAPTER ONE

Through the long months of waiting, Alison had thought and dreamed of

the moment when she would see David again.

Somehow, though, in her thoughts and in her dreams, their meeting

always took place in Edinburgh. Under the shadow of Castle Rock, in

busy and bustling Princes Street, or at the big hospital where they had

both trained.

Instead, he was waiting for her at Windhoek airport, and even in that

first moment she could see how much he had changed. His fair hair was

sun-bleached against the unaccustomed brown of his face. But the

change went deeper than that. There was a new strength, a new

confidence about him.

The clear brightness of the Namibian light, the strangeness of the

voices around her-she could hear German, and Afrikaans, she thought,

because it sounded a little like Dutch, and a variety of other

languages from the black people around-all this contributed to the

unreal feeling of being with David again, here, and not in the places

that were familiar to both of them.

"It's good to see you, Alison," he said, and he hugged her, his lips

brushing her cheek.

In a brotherly way, Alison thought with sudden bleakness.

And yet, she reminded herself as she followed him through the rows of

parked cars, that was exactly what he would have been if Cathy hadn't

died. Her brother-well, brother-in-law.

In the car, he looked down at her.

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CHAPTER ONE

THRouGH the long months of waiting, Alison had thought and dreamed of

the moment when she would see David again.

Somehow, though, in her thoughts and in her dreams, their meeting

always took place in Edinburgh. Under the shadow of Castle Rock, in

busy and bustling Princes Street, or at the big hospital where they had

both trained.

Instead, he was waiting for her at Windhoek airport, and even in that

first moment she could see how much he had changed. His fair hair was

sun-bleached against the unaccustomed brown of his face. But the

change went deeper than that. There was a new strength, a new

confidence about him.

The clear brightness of the Namibian light, the strangeness of the

voices around her-she could hear German, and Afrikaans, she thought,

because it sounded a little like Dutch, and a variety of other

languages from the black people around-all this contributed to the

unreal feeling of being with David again, here, and not in the places

that were familiar to both of them.

"It's good to see you, Alison," he said, and he hugged her, his lips

brushing her cheek.

In a brotherly way, Alison thought with sudden bleakness.

And yet, she reminded herself as she followed him through the rows of

parked cars, that was exactly what he would have been if Cathy hadn't

died. Her brother-well, brother-in-law.



In the car, he looked down at her.

"Look," David said. "The three castles."

"I hope you're going to like it here," he said doubtqlly'It's a very

different life, you know. Whatever She had read about them, these

three Germanmade you decide to apply for the post here?" looking

castles, and there they were on the skyline,

Oh, David; she thought, not sure whether she felt incongruous, with the

heat of the African sky burning closer to laughter or to tears. David,

can you really down on them. be that blind? The Alte Fest," he said

then. "It's the oldest building y in Windhoek-but that's only in a

manner of speaking.

She couldn t, of course say, I came because of ou. I came because I

thought that perhaps now, after two It was built around 1890. Used to

be the military fort years , you might be read to turn to me. And,

since now it's a museum, and a restaurant. We'll have a It didn't look

as if ou wy ere going to come back to meal there some time." me, I've

come to you. And in spite of her sensible reminder to herself to

No, she couldn't say any of that. accept the brotherly way he had

greeted her her heart

"I suppose it's the old Scottish sense of adventure gave a small leap

of hope. she sald lightly. "New countries, new horizons, new

"But you don't want a guided tour right now," he challenges. Thanks

for your help with the work permit said. "You must be tired. I'll

take you to the flat, and by the way I hadn't realised it might be a

problem." I'll show you where the clinic is, and I'll leave you to

He shrugged. get settled in."

"Red tape," he told her. "When I came here they The flat he had found

for her was just off the main gave me a temporary permit-three months,

like the street-the street that used to be called the Kaiserone you

have. They renewed it twice, and now I have strasse, he told her, but

was now Independence a year's permit. It's always possible, with

special skills, Avenue. and when you phoned me I told the board that

we "It's just round the corner from the clinic-you couldn't afford to

miss the chance of a sister with surgi- come out here, turn left, and

that's it," he said. "You cal ward training, coming from my old

hospital. did say you'd like a furnished flat, for a start, and

Fortunately, they agreed." when I heard about this it seemed ideal.

The girl

She had barely been taking in the countryside around who owns it has

been transferred to Cape Town for her, but now, because she had to

think of something a year." other than the matter-of-fact briskness of

David's The flat was small, but pleasant and cool after the voice, she

looked out, and in spite of what she had heat of the day. And all at

once she was tired, she read, in spite of the photos David's mother had

shown realised, after the long flight. her, the bleakness of the land

shook her.

"Will you be all right?" David asked a little doubtfully " "

Miles and miles of nothin David said. You et as he set her suitcase



down. "I have to get back to the , g, g used to it, Alison.

hospital-you're not due to start work until tomorrow,

And then, suddenly, they were driving between rows but, if you do feel

you want to have a look, come of houses, and she could see vivid

bougainvillea, round. Ask for me, and I'll take you to meet Matron."

purple, pink, and red, and a bright orange creeper Once again his llps

brushed her cheek, and then he covering walls and doorways. was gone.

Alison looked down from the balcony-no,

the stoep, David had called it-and watched his tall figure striding

towards his car.

For a moment she felt totally abandoned and totally alone. And, for

the first time, she wondered if she had made a mistake coming here. Her

mother certainly thought so.

"You're going because of David," she had said flatly, and there hadn't

been much point in denying that. Then, unsteadily, she had asked, "Oh,

Alison, love, are you sure you should go?"

There had only been one answer.

"I have to Mum," Alison had said simply.

She opened her suitcase and began to put her clothes in the built-in

wardrobe in the small bedroom. Her uniforms were ready to wear, and

somehow the sight of her badge from St. Margaret's gave her a spurt of

confidence.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror, and after a moment she

lifted her chin defiantly. The girl in the mirror immediately looked

more sure of herself. Her clear grey eyes were steady, her mouth firm

in the oval face, framed by the thick, shoulder-length brown hair.

From her sultcase Alison lifted her photographs, and set them on the

dressing-table. Her mother and father, with the old spaniel, Mac, at

their feet. Her grandmother , smiling at her.

And then, her hands not quite steady, she lifted out the photograph of

Cathy and herself together.

Cathy, her beloved older sister. Cathy, who had died in a car crash

two years ago.

In the photo Cathy's hair, a little darker than Alison's, was blowing

across her face, and she had one hand lifted, brushing it away. They

were both laughing, the two sisters.

We often laughed together, Alison thought, remembering , and once again

the pain of losing Cathy swept over her. She would think she had grown

accustomed to a world without her sister, and then cuddenly, just like

this, the grief would be there, hardly able to be borne.

"Oh, Cathy, I miss you so much," she whispered.

David had taken the photograph, soon after he and Cathy had got

engaged.

In those days, Alison thought, remembering, David was Cathy's, and that



was that.

She wondered sometimes now if she had loved him right from the start,

without even admitting it to herself Or had it only happened after

Cathy died, when the shared loss had drawn them together? She didn't

know now. All she did know was that one day, months after Cathy died,

she had just known that she loved David.

It had been a disturbing realisation. It had seemed almost as if she

was betraying Cathy, and the guilt of that, of being here, being alive,

of feeling this way about David, when Cathy was gone-none of that had

been easy to come to terms with.

But the loss of Cathy had still been too new, too raw, for her and for

David, and she had known that there was no chance then of him turning

to her. So there was nothing, she had told herself, sensibly and

realistically, for her to feel guilty about. At least not yet.

And so the waiting had begun.

Because they worked in the same hospital, and because he was surgical

registrar on the floor where Alison was sister, she saw him often.

Seeing him, working with him, made her completely certain of her

feelings for him. And made her become too hopeful, she had realised

later.

She sat down on the bed now, remembering how she had felt the day David

had told her he was coming here, to the new private clinic.

"Windhoek?" she'd said, taken aback. "So far away?"

He had nodded.

"It seems a good idea," he'd said steadily. He'd hesitated , but only

for a moment. "There are too many memories for me here at St.

Margaret's, Alison." There had been deep sadness in his voice. "Cathy

and I met here while we were both trainjng; we worked together here.

I-I need to get away; I need to go somewhere new. '

And then, misunderstanding her silence, he'd added, "It isn't that I'll

ever forget Cathy, Alison; don't think that. But she's gone, and I

have to get' on with my life, and I think this is the best way to do

it."

She had been devastated. It was only then that she'd realised how much

she had been hoping that he would turn to her as the pain of his loss

eased, as time passed. And then, slowly and because she was a positive

person, Alison had begun to think and to dream of how it would be when

he came back.

Perhaps he was right, she would tell herself. Perhaps this was the

best thing, and perhaps, when he did come back, he would look at her

differently.

She didn't know now how long she would have gone on waiting, and

hoping. But when she had seen the advertisement for the post of

Surgical Sister at the clinic where he worked she had made up her mind

immediately.

And here I am, she thought, standing up. This is what I wanted, and



now I've got it. Once again she lifted her chin, unconsciously

determined and defiant. And perhaps this is the right thing for both

of us, to meet here, to start off afresh, away from all the memories ,

away from the past.

There was no doubt that David was pleased to see her. Anything more

than that would take time. But he had gone out of his way to find this

flat for her, and to make her feel welcome. There were flowers on the

small coffee-table, and there was a small posy bowl on the kitchen

counter. She was touched to think of David's hands-his competent,

surgeon's hands arranging these flowers for her.

And he had done more than that. The fridge held milk and butter and

eggs, a lettuce, some tomatoes, a cucumber, a packet of sliced ham.

There were tea bags in the cupboard above the counter, and a jar of

coffee, and even a few tins.

All things, she reminded herself sensibly, that a , friend, or a

brother, would do, and she shouldn t build too much on any of them.

But... She touched the flowers again, and she thought of David doing

this for her. For the first time, now, she admitted to herself how

strange it had been, seeing David again. He had almost seemed like a

stranger instead of the man she had loved, steadily and faithfully,

through the long time of waiting. He even looked different-so brown,

his hair sun-bleached.

But of course he was still the same David, Alison reminded herself; she

just needed time with him. As he would need time with her.

It had been a long flight, and suddenly she was so tired. She kicked

off her sandals and lay down on the bed, just for five minutes.

Two hours later, when she opened her eyes, it took her a moment or two

to realise where she was. She jumped up and hurried out onto the

stoep. It was still warm, but the sun was low in the sky now, and the

heat of the day had gone. She could see, on the main street, people

hurrying along, obviously going home from work. It was only half past

four, but David had told her that people started work early here.

She made herself a cup of tea and opened one of the packets of biscuits

that David had put in the cupboard for her. Was it too late, she

wondered, to walk round to the clinic? Just so that she would know

what she was doing in the morning. David had said to come if she

wanted to.

She changed into a cotton skirt and a sleeveless blouse, washed her

face and brushed her hair. Then she applied an all-in-one foundation

and a touch of lipstick. She hesitated, then did her eyes, telling

herself that she wanted to look her best for meeting Matron and any of

the other staff.

It was pleasant to feel the sun still warm on her bare legs as she

walked out into the street, reaching for her sunglasses even now, in

the late afternoon. A little way along the main street and then turn

left, David had said.

There it was. Windhoek Surgical Clinic.

Alison took a deep breath and walked up the steps.



She wasn't sure qulte what happened next-whether her dark glasses made

it difficult for her to see or whether she tripped on the last step.

But the door opened, she lost her balance, and found herself in the

arms of a tall man who was hurrying out. " , y

Hey, look out, he said, anno ed.

"I'm sorry," Alison apologised breathlessly. "I didn't see you. '

He sighed and shook his head then hurried on down the steps, his jacket

slung over one shoulder, the sleeves of his blue shirt rolled up.

Alison took a deep, steadying breath and pushed the big glass door

open. It was pleasantly cool mside, and the reception area was pretty

and welcoming, with two chintz couches, glass-topped tables with

magazines , and a restful fish tank.

"Can I see Dr. Reid?" she said to the receptionist.

"I think he's doing ward rounds," the red-haired young woman said

doubtfully. "If you'd like to sit down, I can catch him when he

finishes."

Alison sat down and picked up one of the magazines, not really taking

in what she was reading.

"Alison-so you found your way here. Helen, this is Sister Maynard;

she's come from Scotland to work here. '

David-and in his white coat he looked more reassuringly familiar than

he had before.

"Come and meet Matron," he said, and led the way along the polished

corridor.

Matron was small and brisk, and in spite of her German accent her

manner was like that of so many matrons Alison had known that she found

this reassuring too.

"Sister Maynard, we are very glad you have come to work here with us.

Come -I will show you around our little hospital."

"I'll leave you to it, Matron," David said. "I have some patients to

see in my rooms."

Matron, seeing Alison's surprise, explained that each of the doctors at

this small private hospital had his or her own suite of rooms for

seeing private patients as well as the hospital patients.

"Mostly they are patients who will come here for any surgery that is

required. It is for the initial consultation that our doctors see them

privately.

"We are only a small clinic here, but we can handle most cases," Matron

said proudly. "Here, you see, we have everything" We have our

theatres, we have our ICU, we have a kidney dialysis machine. Our

board is hoping soon to buy equipment for doing angiograms. We have a

physiotherapist on the staff, and on the top floor, beside the roof

garden, we have a small swimming pool which the physiotherapist uses

for treatment, and which can be used by our staff after hospital hours.



'

The ward Alison would be in charge of was on the floor below the roof

garden.

"We try to be less formal than a large hospital , Matron told her.

"When our patients are recovering from surgery we like to take them up

to the roof garden. '

There was a maternity ward, opened recently because of demand, and a

cardiac unit.

"I didn't realise you had so many facilities," Alison said,

impressed.

"There is the state hospital, and it is very good," the older woman

told her. "There is also the Catholic hospital, and it is also very

good. But this city has grown so much in the past few years, and there

are so many people here from other countries, there did seem to be the

need for a small private clinic such as this. '

Quite a few of the medical staff were Namibians she told Alison. ,

"And when we say "Namibians we mean both black and white Namibians,"

she said, again with pride. "Some of us are of German stock, some of

Afrikaans , some of English. Some are Ovambos, some Hereros. But we

are all Namibians."

She smiled. "All that you will learn," she said. "Now, come and have

a cup of coffee before you go."

Alison could see that every effort had been made to avoid the usual

hospital formality. Matron's office did have a large and impressive

desk, but it also had two easy chairs and a small table. Matron rang

for coffee, and as she poured it into two pretty china cups she asked

Alison about St. Margaret's.

"I know you and David worked there together," she said. "And I know

that David has a high regard for the nursing training in his old

hospital-that is why he insisted we could not miss the chance of having

you join us. Oh-come and meet our new sister, Jake. This is Sister

Maynard, who has come from Scotland to join us. Sister Maynard-Dr.

Jake Sheldon. You will be working a great deal with him."

Dr. Jake Sheldon was a tall man, with thick dark hair that was a

little rumpled, as if he had just run his hands through it. His eyes

were dark blue in the brown of his face. Dark blue, and now more than

a little amused as he held out his hand.

He was the man Alison had bumped into on the steps.

"We've met," he murmured. "Or perhaps you could say we've bumped into

each other."

His hand was still enclosing hers. Firmly, Alison drew her own hand

back.

"And here I was thinking that whisky was the best thing we imported

from Scotland," he said, and the dark blue eyes were frankly

appreciative.



"Jake, you are to leave my nurses alone!" Matron said, but she was

smiling.

"You shouldn't have such pretty nurses, then, Matron," Dr. Sheldon

said. "I'm looking forward to working with you, Sister Maynard."

"I'm certainly looking forward to working here, Dr. Sheldon," Alison

said formally, and she could see that he hadn't missed her slight

emphasis on the word "working'.

Because I am certainly not looking forward to seeing much of you, Dr.

Jake Sheldon, Alison thought. I've met your kind before. You may

think you're the answer to a maiden's prayer, but you're certainly not

the answer to this maiden's prayer, and I know how to deal with doctors

like you!

She looked up at him coolly and, she hoped, dismissively But the big

doctor was unperturbed as he smiled down at her. In fact, she

realised, dismayed, he looked as if he was rather enjoying the prospect

of a challenge.

CHAPTER TWO

WELL, now, Dr. Jake Sheldon thought, things are looking up.

He hadn't missed Sister Maynard's emphasis on the word "working', nor

had he missed the cool appraisal in her grey eyes. More than a little

on her high horse, for some reason, but that could be fun, he thought.

And just at the right time, too, when red-haired Helen at Reception had

just told him that what she was looking for was commitment and, since

she knew very well that Ihat wasn't his scene, they'd better call it a

day. ,

It had been great fun, she'd said, and he didn t think he had imagined

the regret in her voice, but, as he'd said right at the start, he

wasn't into long-term relationships , and she thought that perhaps she

was. So it was goodbye, Jake, and thanks for the memories.

And she had said, too, that she would always look on him as a friend.

He was glad of that, and he hoped she would find what she was looking

for. Nice girl, Helen.

But-Sister Maynard, now.

Pretty, yes, with that heart-shaped face, the wide-set grey eyes, and

the thick brown hair swinging to her shoulders. But there was




something a little too reserved, a little too contained, about her.

The door opened and David Reid came in. " , ,

I see you've been well looked after, Alison, he said.

Alison, Jake noted. Nice name-it suited her. And it would be Alison;

she didn't look as if she would take kindly to any shortening of her

given name.

"So what do you think of our clinic?" David asked now.

"I'm most impressed," Alison replied. "I had no idea that you had such

sophisticated equipment-I had a couple of months with the angiogram

team just before I left, and I found it fascinatmg."

"That could be very useful-but surely that's new since I left?" David

asked. "Who's in charge Simon

Perry?"

Alison shook her head, and the thick curtain of hair swung against her

cheek. She has a real English complexion , Jake found himself thinking

and he wondered if her skin would be as soft to touch as it looked.

"No," she said. "They brought in someone from Guy's-an Englishman, but

he's all right."

She smiled, and David Reid smiled back. Of course, they had worked

together in Edinburgh, David had said when he'd recommended her for the

post here.

"I'm sorry, Alison," David said now regretfully; "I had hoped to take

you out for dinner tonight, but I'm afraid I'm tied up."

Jake coughed.

"No problem," he said airily. "I'll look after Sister Maynard-Alison,

isn't it?"

Alison Maynard's grey eyes were even cooler as she shook her head.

"No, thank you, Dr. Sheldon," she returned. "Actually , I have plenty

to do, getting myself settled in, and I'll be glad of an early night

after that long flight," and then she said, very politely, "but thank

you; it was kind of you to offer."

Like a little girl at a party, Jake thought, and he wasn't sure whether

he felt amused or annoyed.

She should lighten up a bit, he told himself. She looks as if she's

too conscious of being the prim and proper Sister Maynard.

But if she did... Lips like that were made to be kissed, not to be

pursed in that rather disapproving way, he thought,

knowing very well that her disapproval was entirely for him.

He saw that she was all too conscious of his eyes on her lips. Slowly,

a tide of colour rose and flooded her cheeks.



I didn't know there were still girls around who could blush, he

thought, delighted.

Alison Maynard lifted her chin, and the unconscious challenge pleased

him even more.

I like that, Jake Sheldon thought. I like it very much.

It was easier to think of how much she disliked the arrogant and

confident Dr. Jake Sheldon than to allow herself to think about being

on her own when she had thought she would be with David.

He is just so sure of himself, Alison told herself as she ran her bath

and laid out her uniform, ready for morning. But he'll find out he's

quite wrong if he thinks I'm ready to fall into his arms.

A good-looking man, there was no doubt about that, she admitted fairly.

But obviously much too accustomed to success with girls. And probably

particularly with nurses. What was it Matron had said to him? "Jake,

you are to leave my nurses alone!"

And he had said, in that smooth, arrogant way, that she shouldn't have

such pretty nurses.

Pretty nurses indeed, Alison thought indignantly. Which meant that he

wouldn't have bothered about her if she had had a face like the bacli

of a bus, never mind whether or not she was a good nurse!

And that was the only thing that mattered as far as her interaction

with Dr. Jake Sheldon was concerned. A professional relationship, and

nothing more.

For the first time then she admitted to herself that she was

disappointed not to be with David on this first night in Windhoek.

But she had to be realistic and sensible about this.

It was obvious, from the way he had greeted her, that he still saw her

as Cathy's sister.

That had to change, and surely here, in these new surroundings, it

would happen. They would meet outside the hospital, perhaps at that

old building he had shown her-what was it? The Alte Fest-and he would

begin to see her as herself, as Alison.

But it could take time, she realised that. Time, and patience. And I

have enough of that, she reminded herself, thinking of the long months

she had already been waiting.

She put out the bedside light and turned over, suddenly too sleepy even

to read the book on Windhoek that her folks had given her when she

left..

For a moment, when the alarm rang, she couldn't think where she was.

But only for a moment. The familiarity of her uniform, waiting to be

worn, was reassuring, and although the place was different her morning

routine was smooth and efficient.

She looked at herself critically in the long mirror. Matron had



suggested, in the letter accompanying her contract, that she should

bring short-sleeved uniforms, in blue, as she was a senior sister.

I like the blue uniform but I'm too pale, Alison decided, thinking of

the people she had met yesterday -the red-haired receptionist, with her

skin a warm golden brown David, his skin brown and his hair sun

bleached ; Jake Sheldon, with his eyes so dark blue in the brown of his

face.

Flat shoes, for comfort, and her hair pinned up neatly, moisturiser and

lipstick, and she was ready. She locked her door, went downstairs into

the small courtyard, and out into the main street. It wasn't even

seven o'clock but already the day was hot. Not a humid heat, though.

David had said that in an early letter to his mother. It was a dry

heat, and somehow less trying.

But she was glad that the clinic was airconditioned -glad for herself,

and even more so for the comfort of the patients.

The night sister, a tall woman who was probably in her mid-thirties,

greeted her pleasantly.

"Sister Maynard-I am Sister Biwa. We are fairly quiet today, so you

will have time to get to know the patients and the routine."

Efficiently, she went over the list. There were two gastric resection

patients, and neither had had problems with blood pressure or

respiratory rates, the appendectomy pat lent had reported a return of

peristaltic sounds, the two young tonsillectomy patients would be going

home that day, and Dr. Sheldon's knee replacement was now on

crutches.

"Dr. Sheldon will be removing the drain from his right knee this

morning," Sister Biwa said. She smiled. "He is a young man and he is

impatient, although he admits that his knees have been giving him

trouble for a long time. You will have to remind him to use his

crutches. He knows he is not supposed to walk without them, but he

says he forgets."

The hospital routine was reassuringly familiar, but Alison was glad of

help from her staff. Since this was a clinic, and not a training

hospital, the nurses were all qualified, although there were nursing

aides on the staff, Matron had told her. Alison's day staff consisted

of two qualified nurses, one a young German girl who had done her

training at the State hospital and the other an older black woman, who

had also trained there.

"Which part of Germany do you come from?" Alison asked Heldi Muller as

they went over the charts together.

The blonde nurse smiled.

"I'm not German German, Sister," she explained. "I'm South-West

African German-Namibian German

ELIS.4BETH SCOTT

now. My grandparents came out here from Munich. There are plenty of

people like us-we are Germanspeaking , we have our German culture, but

we have never lived in Germany! Matron is the same, and so is Marta



Grellman, the physiotherapist."

It was just another of the aspects of this place that she would have to

get used to, Alison realised. But there was no time to dwell on that

as the routine of the day speeded up, towards the doctor's round.

It would be Dr. Sheldon today and not Dr. Reid, the night sister had

said, as Dr. Reid would be operating.

Promptly at ten, Jake Sheldon strode into the ward, white coat flying,

dark hair once again just a little untidy.

"Morning, Sister-morning, Nurse," he said briskly, taking the charts

Alison had ready for him. "My appendectomy patient-Mr. Ross. Glad to

see there's a return of peristaltic sounds; the peritonitis is

obviously subsiding, so we reduce the parenteral fluids. But no food

or fluid until the temperature and pulse rate fall further, Sister. '

He handed the chart back to Alison.

"We'll remove that drain now, Sister,"he said.

Alison was annoyed at herself for being at a loss, but the morning

routine of the ward hadn't allowed her any time to study the charts in

any detail.

"Is it a total knee replacement, Dr. Sheldon?" she asked. And then,

because his eyebrows were raised, she said, "I'm sorry, I haven't had

time to go over his chart. '

"No, I don't suppose you have," Jake Sheldon agreed quite mildly. "Yes,

Sister, I did an implant procedure to replace both the tibial and

femoral joints. Too much sport, this young man, and he ignored the

early signals -he had advanced destruction of the joint, with marked

instability and increasing restriction of movement But he's young, and

the operation has been a complete success-just keep him in order with

his crutches; he's inclined to be impatient. Got the picture?"

"Yes, Dr. Sheldon. Thank you," Alison said.

She followed him through the ward, and drew the screens around his

patient.

"No need, Dr. Sheldon; these fellows are like family now," Roger Brook

said cheerfully, then asked, "Does it hurt, taking this drain out?"

"It isn't too pleasant, Roger," Dr. Sheldon replied. "I'll tell you

what's going to happen. Sister Maynard is going to take out these two

stitches that are holding the dram in place and I will remove it. It

could hurt for a minute, but then it will be over. All right?"

"All right," the young man agreed a little faintly.

Jake Sheldon pointed to the vacuum container.

"Hardly any drainage now, Sister, but the drain in the other knee needs

a couple of days yet. Rightstitches out, Sister."

Her hands sure and steady, Alison removed the stitches holding the

catheter in place. Then, in one swift movement, Jake Sheldon took the



catheter out. " , ,

As I said, not pleasant, but it's over, he said to his patient. "If

you talk nicely to Sister I'm sure she'll bring you a nice cup of tea

after that ordeal."

"I'd rather have a nice cold beer, but I suppose I'd better settle for

the tea," Roger Brook said. "Anyway, I know what will happen now when

the other one comes out. '

Back in the duty room, with the ward round completed , Jake Sheldon

handed Roger's chart to Alison.

"You'll probably have some trouble with young Roger as soon as the

other drain comes out," he said. "He's already said he thinks he could

be at home says he's bored, and promises he'd do his exercises. But he

still needs daily physiotherapy-has Marta been in yet? No? She'll be

here soon. So don't stand for any nonsense from him."

"I won't," Alison assured him.

Jake Sheldon looked down at her and now his dark blue eyes were

amused.

"No," he said thoughtfully. "No, I'm quite sure you won't, Sister

Maynard."

To her annoyance, Alison felt her cheeks grow warm. Dr. Jake Sheldon,

professional and competent, she could take. Dr. Jake Sheldon, the

Casanova of the clinic-no, sir, she thought.

It wasn't easy, but she forced herself to ignore this.

"Is there anything else, Dr. Sheldon?" she asked politely,

formally.

For a moment longer the blue eyes held hers. I will not look away,

Alison told herself.

"No, Sister Maynard, nothing else right now," Dr. Sheldon murmured.

"Be seeing you."

She watched him stride back down the corridor, white coat flying, dark

head high.

Heidi Muller, coming back from taking tea to Roger Brook, came into the

duty room.

"Oh," she said, obviously disappointed. "Has Dr. Sheldon gone

already? Didn't he want coffee?"

"I didn't offer him any," Alison told her firmly. And then, relenting,

"Should I have?"

"Oh, yes," Heidi said. "We always give him coffee when he finishes his

ward round. Dr. Reid too," she added hastily.

Alison had to stifle the sudden thought that perhaps if it had been

David and not Jake Sheldon she might have asked if he wanted coffee.



"Dr. Reid is very nice, of course," the German girl said. "But Jake

is-well, he's pretty special." She looked at Alison, her dark eyes

wide. "Don't you think he's very good-looking?"

"I suppose he is," Alison said reluctantly. "But he does have a pretty

good opinion of himself-he acts as if every girl is just waiting for

him to snap his fingers at her. I don't like doctors like that-I don't

like men like that."

She hadn't meant to come over quite as strong, she thought, seeing the

surprise on Heidi's face.

"That's just his way," she said. "He doesn't mean any harm. And I'll

tell you something-I can't think of any girl who's gone out with him

for any length of time who doesn't stay friends with him when it's

over."

"Sounds as if there are quite a few of them around," Alison said. "When

does the phsyiotherapist come, Nurse?"

Heidi Muller accepted the change of subject away from Jake Sheldon, and

said that Mrs. Grellman would reach them at about eleven.

Alison was busy with David's colostomy patient from Theatre when the

physiotherapist came, and she could do no more than note that Mrs.

Grellman seemed quiet and pleasant, and competent. Friendly, but

absorbed with her patients, Alison could see as the physiotherapist 's

blonde head bent over Roger Brook's bed. There was time for no more

than a quick greeting before she went back to her colostomy patient.

The colostomy patient was in his mid-sixties, and from his chart Alison

saw that opening up his abdomen had revealed a large tumour in the

pelvis, surrounding the rectum.

A little later, when David came to see his patient, she asked what he

had been able to do.

"The only procedure possible was to do a colostomy and take over the

natural function of the rectum , David said a little tersely, and she

saw that he looked very tired. "He's going to be pretty drowsy for the

rest of the day, and I want him kept sedated, but tomorrow I'll come

and have a talk with him, tell him what more we're going to do."

He smiled at her. "How are you doing?" he asked. "Busy day? Finding

your feet?"

"I'm doing fine," Alison assured him. "Yes, we've been pretty busy,

but I like it that way."

"I'm sorry about last night; I didn't mean to leave you on your own,"

he said then. "A bit of a crisis. How about tonight? Can I pick you

up just before eight and take you out for a meal?"

"Thank you, David, I'd like that," Alison replied as composedly as she

could. Perhaps we do need to get to know each other again, she

thought, and this is the start of it.

Eight o'clock didn't give her much time when she only finished work at

seven and had to hand over to the night sister, but her flat was only

five minutes away, and she bathed quickly, brushed her hair, and redid



her face.

What to wear on this, her first real date with David?

It was warm, and she'd have to stop being surprised at this, for in

September at home it would be autumn, whereas here winter was over, and

it certainly felt like summer to her.

She hesitated in choosing between the silky blue dress she'd found at

Jenner's sale and the goldy topaz one with the full skirt. The blue,

she decided, although it was a different blue, was in the same colour

range as her blue uniform. And tonight she wanted David to forget two

things: one, that she was Sister Maynard, and two, that she was Cathy's

sister. It wasn't that either of them would forget Cathy, ever,

but-that had to happen.

That could take some time, she knew. But not the blue dress tonight.

At least she wouldn't be Sister Maynard tonight.

The topaz dress made her look less as if she needed to catch up with

some tanning, she thought a little later. And with her hair loose she

certainly didn't look like the sister he had seen in Men's Surgical a

few hours ago.

The small bottle of LAir du Temps had been very expensive, but worth

it, she thought, especially in the duty-free shop. She'd keep it for

special occasions, and surely, surely, this was a very special

occasion?

Promptly at eight, her doorbell rang.

David looked quite different from the tired surgeon she had seen

earlier. He wore an open-necked, shortsleeved shirt, and his neck and

his arms were very brown.

"You look very nice, Alison," he said, and just for a moment there was

a shadow in his hazel eves. Alison knew, without any need for words,

that he qvas thinking of Cathy.

Then the shadow was gone, and he smiled.

"I thought we'd go to the Alte Fest," he said. "We can sit outside, on

the stoep, and look out over Windhoek. Food's good, too. All right

with you?"

"All right with me," Alison assured him, and her heart lifted. It was

going to be all right; of course it was. It was only natural that her

being here would make him think of Cathy. At first, at least. But

slowly, surely, it would be her, Alison, he would see. She would hold

onto that.

She followed him through the courtyard, and out to where his car was

waiting.

And then, to her surprise, he opened the back door for her.

"You've met Marta, haven't you?" he said.

The young woman sitting in the front seat turned to Alison and

smiled.



It was the phsyiotherapist from the clinic.

"Yes, we've met, but only for a moment," she said.

Marta held out her hand. "I am so pleased to meet you properly,

Alison," she said. "David has told me so much about you. '

CHAPTER THREE

PERHAPS it WaS the way Marta Grellman said David's name.

Perhaps it was the way David's hand touched hers, just for a moment.

But no matter what Alison told herself later, no matter how many

explanations she found, in that moment she knew that there was

something close, something special, between David and this girl.

She wasn't conscious of returning Marta's greeting, but she must have

made some adequate reply, for the German phsyiotherapist went on to

say, "And your flat? Is everything all right? We didn't know what you

would need, so there are just a few things until you can do some

shopping."

"Thank you-it was a great help," Alison said carefully , politely.

"Marta says "we", but she was the one who did the shopping and got the

flowers."

There was warm affection in David's voice and in his eyes.

The flowers. The flowers she had pictured David arranging for her, the

flowers she had been so touched to see.

"I have to look in at the clinic," he said as he pulled out from the

kerb. "I'll only be five minutes."

And the moment was gone, the moment when she thought, wildly, that she

could make some excuse, say she wasn't feeling well, say she'd rather

not come out that evening.

When David left them, parked in the parkin area at the back of the

clinic, Marta Grellman began to talk about young Roger Brook, who had

had total knee replacements, and Alison was grateful for that, grateful

to find something they could talk about that helped her to stop

thinking, stop feeling as if she'd been hit by a body-blow, very

hard.

"Of course he will still need extensive physiotherapy after he goes

home," Marta was saying when David came down the steps and got into the

car.

He was smiling.

"Jake's going to join us," he said. "He's just looking in on one of

his patients then he'll follow us to the Alte Fest. I got the

impression that he was delighted to have the chance, especially after

you gave him something of the brush-off yesterday, Alison. I hope you

don't mind ,



Mind?

In spite of the immediate resentment she had felt at Jake Sheldon's

confident charm yesterday, in spite of her instant determination that

she wanted nothing to do with him other than in a professional sense, a

wave of relief swept over Alison at the realisation that she wouldn't

be on her own with David and Marta.

I'd welcome anyone, she thought fervently. Even Dr. Jake Sheldon.

The old fort was brightly lit, and there were tables out on the wide

stoep. Below them, the panorama of Windhoek was spread out.

Remembering the drive in from the airport, Alison thought how strangqe

it was this bustling, sophisticated city, surrounded by what seemed to

her to be virtually desert.

It was easier, she knew, to keep her mind filled with thoughts of that

sort, rather than to allow herself to dwell on David and Marta, sitting

opposite her. Easier, but not possible to do indefinitely; she knew

that too. But, just for now, anything that would help... The wine

David had ordered had just arrived when Jake 9qIeldon ran up the steps

from the street to the fort, and came along the stoep to join them.

"My lucky day," he said as he sat down beside Alison.

"Here I was facmg a lonely evening, and then I heard about this. '

His short-sleeved T-shirt was the same deep, dark blue as his eyes, and

his arms were a deep gold.

"I do hope you don't mind, Sister MaynardAlison ?"

And Alison, all too conscious of David's arm very close to Marta's,

smiled at Jake Sheldon and said demurely, "I'm glad you could join us,

Dr. Sheldon."

He raised his dark eyebrows and waited.

"Jake," she said then, and she could feel her cheeks grow warm.

Across the table, Marta Grellman smiled at Jake.

"A lonely evening indeed, Jake," she said. "I don't think there can be

many evenings like that in your life!" ', "Maybe not Jake returned

equably, "-but this was going to be one. Tell me, how are my favounte

glrls?"




"They're fine," Marta said. "Well, you know how it is with

children-yesterday Trudy was feverish and not at all herself, and I had

to stay at home with her.

Today she is fine, and my mother is with them tonight."

Jake turned to Alison.

"Marta has two delightful little girls," he told her.

"They are both blue-eyed blondes, and they look , identlcal, but Trudy,

who is six, is quiet and thoughtful , and Brigitte at four is already a

little actress."

Of course, Alison thought, remembering. It was Mrs.

Grellman. But where was Mr. Grellman? And if he was around, why was

Marta Grellman with David?

But that was the. kind of thought she dared not dwell on, not now, and

she was glad when Jake began to ! talk of a weekend trip he had had to

the huge national park at the Etosha Pan.

"We saw more game this time than I've ever seen," he said. "The first

night there were elephants at the waterhole, and the next night two

rhino, and four giraffes. And there were huge herds of zebra, and of

wildebeest. '

He turned to Alison.

"That's gnu," he explained. "Alison, you have to get to Etosha-I'll

see what I can fix up. You'll love itit 's a different experience from

anything in your life. Isn't that true, David?"

"Wait a minute-' Alison protested, and it was impossible not to return

his smile, not to respond to his enthusiasm, "-I've only just started

work; I can't be thinking of trips away yet!"

Jake waved his hand.

"I'll fix it with Matron," he assured her. "Like Marta , she's a born

and bred South-Wester-we're still getting used to calling ourselves

Namibians-and she loves the chance to have people get to know the

country."

"Etosha really is very special, Alison," David said then. He turned to

Marta. "Maybe we could all go."

"That would be lovely," Marta said warmly. "The girls would love it.

And Alison, you must get to Swakopmund, too, as soon as possible."

"Swakopmund?" Alison asked.

"Swakopmund," Jake said, "is a small German town between the desert and

the sea. You drive for miles and for hours over the desert, and then

suddenly the desert ends and there is Swakopmund, and the sea. And

you'll find that after a few weeks or a few months in Windhoek you get

quite desperate to see the sea."

There was talk then of other places Marta and Jake thought she should



see. They had calamari steaks to start with, and then Wiener

schnitzels, and coffee. Sometimes there would be an exchanged glance,

or a brief moment when David's hand would brush Marta's ,

' and Alison would feel her heart lurch, her throat tighten.

She could not have got through the evening without

Jake Sheldon, she knew that. And perhaps, she thought later, it was

because she was so grateful for that that it didn't occur to her to

make any protest when he swept her down the steps and into his car.

"I'll take Alison back to her flat," he said.

And somehow the next moment she was in his car and they were saying

goodnight to the others.

"Seat belt," Jake murmured, and without waiting for her to do up her

seat belt herself he leaned across and fastened it for her. His cheek

brushed hers, and for the first time Alison wondered if this was

wise.

She moved back a little.

"Thank you," she said politely. And then, thinking quickly, she asked

him about Marta Grellman. "You mentioned her little girls," she said.

"Is she divorced?"

Jake shook his head.

"Her husband died a couple of years ago," he said.

"Cancer of the colon. It was quick; that was the only blessing. It's

been tough on Marta, left on her own with the kids. Maybe things are

looking up for her now. She deserves it."

That was the last thing Alison wanted to talk about.

"Tell me more about Etosha, Jake," she said quickly

"How far from Windhoek is it? Did you say about five hours drive?"

She listened without really tqking in what he was saying as he drove

her back to her flat and stopped not in the main street but in the

street at the back of the small courtyard.

"Thank you for bringing me back," she said, but he made no move to open

the door.

"Any time," he murmured, and there was a sleepy warmth in his voice and

in his eyes that all at once set alarm bells ringing. He was very

close to her in the warm darkness of the car.

"I'll just-' she said quickly.

His hand closed over her arm as she reached for the doorhandle.

"Goodnight, Alison," he murmured, and his hand moved from her arm to

touch her cheek, very gently. Then, still gently, he turned her face

towards him and his lips found hers. And the gentleness became a



searching demand.

For a moment-an endless moment, she thought later, her cheeks burning

at the memory-she could do nothing but respond to him, her lips parting

under his, her arms, of their own volition, clinging to him.

And then, dismayed at this reaction, she drew back.

"I've already thanked you for bringing me back," she said coolly.

He didn't release her, and in the darkness she was all too conscious of

the uneven thudding of her heart. Or was it his?

"I guess I misunderstood the signals," he murmured. "It seemed to me,

over the evening, that we were getting on very nicely, you and I."

Alison felt her cheeks grow warm.

"I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression," she said stiffly. "I

certainly didn't mean to."

Unexpectedly, he laughed.

"It's no big deal," he said easily. "Crossed signals, that's all."

Lightly, his lips brushed her cheek.

"Goodnight, Alison," he said.

Now what was all that about? Jake Sheldon wondered , not sure whether

he felt annoyed or amused.

Because no girl he had ever known had treated him like that. Sure,

he'd had his face slapped on occasio nand deserved it, too, Jake

thought fairly-but Alison

Maynard hadn't done that; she had just-drawn back, retreated.

And yet as Jake parked outside his town house, situated high on the

hill beside the three castles he found himself remembering that moment

when Alison's lips had been warm and responsive under his, when she had

moved closer to him, into his arms.

She's no ice-maiden, he thought. No way.

He unlocked his front door and braced himself for the onslaught of a

very solid golden Labrador, ecstatic at the end of his solitude.

"Down, Shandy, you dope," he told the dog, trying to sound stern. "And

if you've shredded my newspaper again, boy, you're in trouble. I don't

need any more grlef tonight. '

Fortunately for Shandy, the newspaper had for once escaped his

attention.

"All right, you're a good fellow; you deserve a walk," Jake told him.

It was warm and the stars were clear in the sky as he and the dog

walked towards the highest castle, and then round by the other two,

before going home, Shandy sometlmes running ahead, sometlmes, with an

obvious effort, walking sedately beside Jake.



Often, when he took the dog out late at night like this, he would find

himself thinking about his day, thinking about his patients, about

their progress. Tonight he could not get Alison Maynard out of his

mind, and eventually he gave up trying.

Standoffish at first, she had been-he'd been quite amused at the cool

appraisal in her grey eyes, in Matron's office. Something of a

challenge there, he remembered thinking.

And yet she'd been so different tonight over dinner at the Alte

Fest-warm, interested in hearing about Etosha, interested, he had

thought, in him.

No, there hadn't been anything in what she had said or done tonight to

make him think that a goodnight kiss would be unwelcome. And it hadn't

been; he was certain of that. Not at first, anyway.

Is she playing hard to get? Or is she one of those women-and I've been

lucky, he thought; I haven't met any-other men describe as a tease?

The type to lead a man on, and then turn all cool?

Somehow he didn't think it was as simple as that. No, there was more

to Alison Maynard; there was definitely something that intrigued him.

I'm not giving up that easily, Jake thought.

Over the next few days, in the clinic, there was nothing about the

efficient and competent Sister Maynard that could remind him in any way

of the girl he had kissed, the girl who had, briefly, kissed him

back.

Alison's hair was always neatly pinned up, her badges and her

epaulettes perfectly in position on her short-sleeved blue uniform. She

was, he realised quickly and appreciatively, an extremely good

sister.

"We'll have to keep an eye on young Roger," he said to her one morning

when his ward round was finished. "That suction drainage on the other

knee shouldn't exceed three hundred millilitres in six to eight hours.

I gather from Marta that she has him on flexion exercises using the

pulley and the sling. That is necessary, and will be for some time.

And watch him with the crutches; he must use them all the time." " ,

There is one other thing, Dr. Sheldon, Alison said. "I've been

noticing that he has some trouble flexing his foot. I've checked the

dressing, and I'm certain there's no pressure that could be causing

paralysis on the outer side of the lower leg."

Jake looked at her.

"I'll have another look at him, Sister," he said. "There could also be

pressure at the head of the fibula. Thanks for mentioning it to me."

He went back to his young patient, and found that

Alison was right; there seemed to be no pressure problem.

"I'll have a word with Marta," he said, looking into the duty room.

"Perhaps she can adapt some of his exercises; we'll see if that



helps."

Alison looked up from the charts she was working on.

"Dr. Sheldon," she said, a little awkwardly.

Jake, on the point of turning away, stopped.

"Would you like some coffee before you go?" she asked, her cheeks

pink. : " y , p

Yes, I would, thanks, Sister Ma nard he're lied.

She switched on the kettle and measured coffee into first one mug, and

then, after some hesitation, into another.

" , i Thanks, Sister, Jake said as she handed him one mug and put the

other on her desk.

They talked about some of the other patients, and again he was

impressed by her professionalism. Not that he needed to be, he

reminded himself; she wasn't the first Scottish-trained nurse he had

worked with.

He finished his coffee and stood up.

"Thanks, Sister," he said. "That was a life-saver."

Alison stood up too.

"Dr. Sheldon-about the other night, she said, and once again her

colour was high. "I-I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I

did enjoy our evening, but..."

She stopped, and he could see that she was at a loss as to what to say

next.

"But you didn't mean me to make too much of it?"

Jake asked gravely, unable to resist teasing her a little.

"No-yes, I suppose so," she murmured, still embarrassed' Anyway I just

wanted to say that I was sorry if-if there was any misunderstanding."

Jake held up one hand.

"Say no more, Sister Maynard; it's water under the bridge," he assured

her solemnly. "At least it is on one condition. '

Her grey eyes widened apprehensively.

"That you let me take you out again, just on our own," he said. "And

you can make the condition that I won't do anything you don't want me

to!"

He couldn't resist this chance to remind her of that moment when she

had undoubtedly wanted that kiss just as much as he had. And she

didn't disappoint him. Once again a tide of colour flooded into her

cheeks.



He held out his hand. "Deal?" he said briskly.

She hesitated, and then, unexpectedly, she smiled.

"Deal," she returned.

Her hand was small and firm in his, and she looked quite different when

she smiled.

You should smile more, Alison Maynard, Jake found himself thinking. You

could do with that, and you could do with just generally lightening

up.

He had a sudden and rather disturbing thought that this girl needed

that very much-to smile, to laugh. He found himself wondering what it

was in Alison Maynard's life that had made her... perhaps more serious

than she should be.

It was disturbing, because he knew very well that he didn't often think

in that sort of way about any girl who was currently in his life.

Years ago, when he was very young, there had been a girl, a girl who

absorbed his every thought, his every longing. He had loved her; he

had wapted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her.

But a struggling young doctor was not for her, she had decided, and she

had gone out of his life without a backward glance. It had hurt him;

it had hurt him so deeply that he had vowed that no one would ever come

close to him again.

And no one had. He was always fair with the girls he took out; he

never in any way let them think there would be anything more than here

and now.

But standing here, with Alison Maynard's hand in his, he had the sudden

conviction that she was different from any other girl he had known.

And he wasn't too sure now how he felt about this.

CHAPTER FOUR

ALrsorr was off duty that weekend.

She cleaned her tiny flat, and then she went to do some shopping at the

nearest supermarket, allowing herself to be sidetracked into walking

around Post Street Mall, admiring the wooden carvings spread out on the

ground, and the beautiful crochet work.

There were two babies on the way back home, a first one for one of the

other sisters from St. Margaret's and a second for her cousin, so she

bought a small carved elephant and a giraffe for them, although neither

baby was due for a few months.

Perhaps, Alison thought, enjoying the sun on her face and on her bare

arms, by the time I send my elephant and my giraffe I'll have been to a

game park and seen real ones.

There were people sitting at small pavement cafes drinking coffee and

talking-most of them seemed to be talking German, she realised-and she

would have liked to sit down too, but not alone.



She walked back to the flat then and packed away her shopping and tried

not to think of how she had imagined she would be spending her free

time in Windhoek.

She had just finished having lunch when the phone rang.

"Alison? I know you're off duty-I meant to talk to you yesterday, but

I got caught up. Are you doing anything this afternoon?"

David.

She managed to say lightly, easily, she hoped, that no, she wasn't

doing anything.

"Can I pick you up in half an hour?" he said. "Bring your bathmg

costume-Marta has a pool."

Of course. Marta.

Foolish of me, Alison told herself, angry and disappointed , to think

that Marta wasn't included.

And yet, when she looked at it reasonably, David had been on his own

here for well over a year; of course he had had to make friends. And

since Marta was on her own, surely it was natural for them to see

something of each other? And of course David couldn't just drop Marta

now that Alison was here.

Her heart lifted at that thought. There was, just for a moment, a

sudden, stabbing memory of that evening on the way to the Alte

Fest-Marta saying David's name, David's hand brushing against

Marta's-and her own sense of their closeness. But she pushed that

thought away.

I was tired and I was disappointed and I was probably imagining things,

she told herself firmly.

And with that thought there was another memory of that evening-of Jake

Sheldon's arms around her, his lips on hers. A wave of colour flooded

her cheeks as she remembered her response to him. She hoped, without

much conviction, that Jake himself had forgotten

Bikini or costume for swimming? she wondered. Perhaps the one-piece,

although she could do with some sunbathing. But the black and green

costume looked good, and it was certainly safer for swimming in.

"Nice for Marta to have a swimming pool," she said to David when he

picked her up. She didn't want to seem too inquisitive, but it did

seem a luxury for a young widow.

"Lots of folk here have swimming pools," David said. His hands on the

steering wheel were strong and brown. Hands she had seen operating,

hands she had seen caring for patients, over the years she had known

him. "I was surprised at first, too, but I realised it's rather like

folk at home having central heating. A swimming pool certainly makes

life more comfortable here in Windhoek."

He hesitated.

"Paul and Marta bought their house two years before Paul became ill.



Fortunately they had an insurance policy on it, and when Paul died it

was paid off."

They passed the Alte Fest, where they had been for dinner, and David

swung the car away from the three castles on the hill.

"Marta lives in Pioneers' Park," he said, and he smiled. "There's

still something of the pioneer spirit here in Windhoek, I sometimes

think, even in the names-you get the feeling of the early settlers.

Behind you, where the castles are, is Luxury Hill." " , p

It can t really be called that," Alison rotested, smiling, but David

assured her that it was.

"Jake Sheldon lives up there," he said then.

He glanced at her. "You two seemed to get on pretty well the other

night," he said casually. "Just don't take him too seriously, Alison-I

feel kind of responsible for you, after all."

Because Cathy was my sister, Alison thought, and for a moment it seemed

that some of the warmth had gone from the sun.

She lifted her chin. , ,

"Don t worry, David, she said, and her voice was steady. "I'm not in

any danger from Jake Sheldon, I can promise you."

He drew up, then, outside a white Spanish-style house with a red roof.

There were sounds of laughter and of splashing as David opened a gate

that led to the back of the house.

The pool was big enough for a reasonable swim, and one small blonde

girl was swimming earnestly up and down with armbands on, while a

smaller one was splashing Marta on the steps. It was this smaller one

who was making most of the noise; Alison realised.

"David-come and teach me to swim!" this small girl called

imperiously.

"Give me a minute to get ready, Brigitte," David protested.

Marta came out of the pool. She looked younger, Alison thought, in her

white bathing costume, with her hair wet and no make-up. But very

tanned, she observed enviously.

"Alison, I am so glad you could come," Marta said. "Go through the




kitchen, and along the passage you will find the spare room, to change

in. David, will you watch the girls while I get some cool drinks? Beer

for you?"

He nodded, and took off the shorts and T-shirt he was wearing over his

swimming trunks.

"First I want to watch Trudy swimming," he told the small Brigitte

firmly. "Then it's your turn."

The house was pleasantly cool, and Alison changed in the pretty bedroom

then went back through the kitchen, seeing that Marta was already

outside.

It was almost, Alison thought later, as if the rest of the day went by

on two different levels.

She couldn't help but enjoy the sunshine, the swimming pool, lying on a

lounger chair, sipping a long, cool lime drink, the company of the

little girls-Trudy quiet, a little shy, Brigitte bright and bouncy. She

appreciated Marta's open friendliness, too, her concern about Alison

getting too much sun, her insistence on all of them putting a sunscreen

on.

And David was browner than she had ever seen him, swimming, sitting on

the side of the pool, his beer beside him, as he asked her about her

folks, about people they had both known at the hospital.

All that was wonderful, and it was a lifestyle that she just knew she

could really enjoy.

But... The other level, the deeper, darker level, was there all the

time as well.

David, so much at home here, so accepted by the two blonde little

girls. The easy, casual closeness between Marta and David, an

occasional reference to something they had done together, the way

David, without saying anything, took the sunscreen from Marta and

rubbed some on her golden-brown shoulders. As if, Alison thought

bleakly, it's something he has done so many times.

Marta. asked her to stay on and have something to eat with them, but

she refused, saying, with some truth, that she really should write some

letters.

"I'll take you back, then," David said, pulling on his shorts and his

T-shirt. "Want me to pick anything up on the way back, Marta?"

"Perhaps some Brotchen, if the bakery has any left , Marta said. "You

must learn, Alison, to call rolls Brotchen-David had to learn too."

She and the little girls came to the car with them, Trudy asking Alison

shyly if she would come again, Brigitte in tears because she wanted

Alison to stay now.

"Please do come again soon, Alison," Marta said. Her blue eyes were

steady and friendly. "It won't be easy for you, being so far from your

family, from your home. I hope you will let us help you to settle

here."



"Us'? David and her?

But Alison pushed away the bleakness of that thought and thanked Marta,

for she could see that the German girl really meant what she was

saying.

On the way back she mentioned to David that she would like to get a

car.

"Nothing fancy, just something to get me around."

He nodded.

"Yes, you'll need a car; there isn't much in the way of public

transport. Tell you what, I'll have a word with Jake; he has a cousin

who has a second-hand car place; he found this one for me."

There was something else she wanted to ask him, but somehow she could

not bring herself to say the words. Did Marta know about Cathy-had he

told her?

Determinedly, that evening, she set out to write letters home. But her

thoughts keep returning to David, back with Marta, perhaps helping to

put the children to bed. And later-alone with Marta, once the little

girls were asleep.

She put her pen down and the memories flooded back.

Cathy, her face alight with happiness, holding out her left hand with

the diamond ring on it.

"We're going to get married soon," she had said. "But we don't want to

start a family for a while; there are so many things we'd like to do

first. We want to travel a bit-perhaps work in the Sudan-buy a house.

There's plenty of time for babies; we want time for ourselves first.

'

Alison remembered all the dreams, all the plans, her sharing them, the

two sisters so close. And now Cathy was gone, and David was She

wouldn't let herself use the word committed or tied; no, surely he must

see that this was so wrong for him, taking on responsibility for Marta

and her children.

But surely she was reading too much into what was possibly no more than

a-a friendship? He had been on his own, and it was understandable that

he should have been glad of Marta's company.

It had thrown her, she had to admit that, and of course that was why

she had this disturbing feeling when she was with David. Not, any

longer, a feeling that he was a stranger, just not the way she had

expected to feel. In all the time apart she had thought so often of

how it would be when she was with him again: conscious of his nearness,

longing for him to take her in his arms.

But it wasn't like that at all, she had to admit.

And with that thought came another one that was even more disturbing.

That brief moment when she'd been in Jake Sheldon's arms, when she had

found herself responding to his kiss-she hadn't ever felt like that



about David.

Or anyone else.

Now that, Alison told herself firmly, was a ridiculous thought. Because

there just hadn't been anyone else once she'd realised how she felt

about David. Oh , there had been dates, parties, but no one special.

And, to bq honest and to be fair, there was undoubtedly something quite

special about Jake Sheldon.

And just how, she found herself wondering, do I come to be thinking

about Jake Sheldon when it was David I was thinking about?

Once the initial adjustments were made, Alison found that she was very

much enjoying her work at the clinic.

It was very different from being in a large city hospital and, because

it was small and private, it was possible to spend more time with each

patient.

Matron had explained to her that most people belonged to medical aid

societies, and their monthly contributions paid for hospitalisation and

necessary operations.

"Different from your National Health in Britain," she said, "but it

works. And of course there is the state hospital, which gives care to

people who can't afford to belong to medical aid societies and to come

to places like our clinic."

Young Roger Brook would be going home soon both Jake Sheldon and Alison

had watched the progress he made after Alison noticed the difficulty in

flexing his foot. Marta had worked out new exercises and treatment for

him, and Jake was satisfied that there was no further danger of

peroneal nerve palsy. The second drain had been removed, and the young

man was becoming quite expert at using his crutches.

"And no slipping up on that when you're back home," Alison told him.

"Or on your visits to Mrs. Grellman. '

"Don't worry, Sister," Roger assured her. "I'll be so pleased to get

home I won't do anything that will bring me back again ! For a moment

his brown eyes were shadowed. "I suppose I just have to get used to

losing out on running, and playing rugger for my country. I was almost

there, you know-I had a good chance of being chosen. Now, if I ever do

get back to it, it'll probably be too late."

Alison and Jake had talked about this, and Alison knew there was no

point in not being truthful with Roger.

"No, you may not be able to do that, Roger," she agreed, her hands deft

as she rebandaged his right knee. "But remember saying that by the

time you had the operation you couldn't even walk for any distance

without pain? Hold onto that when things get you down. And there are

other sports."

"I know," Roger replied. "Dr. Sheldon says I can crew for him; he

says I'd enjoy sailing. And my Dad plays golf; I might give that a

go."



Roger Brook would be all right when he left the clinic, Alison thought.

He was young enough to accept the situation and to make the necessary

adjustments.

She was less happy about her colostomy patient, who would also be going

home soon.

Mr. Archer was sixty-seven and a widower. Until his illness he had

enjoyed playing bowls, and it was only when Alison, changing his

dressing one day, asked if he was looking forward to playing again that

she saw the bleakness in his eyes before he turned away.

"I don't see myself playing bowls again, Sister," he said quietly. "Not

after this. I mean-it's not very nice, an operation like this, and

having to have this appliance all the time. And I know I'll be having

this radiotherapy thing too-maybe I won't feel too good after that.

And what if I'm ill again-really ill?"

He meant what if the cancer returned, Alison realised with compassion.

She put her hand over his.

"It must be quite a thought, Mr. Archer," she said, "to be going home

when you've been here for almost a month. I'm going to talk to Dr.

Sheldon, and we'll arrange for someone who's been through the same

operation to come and talk to you. As for the radiotherapy -yes, you

may feel quite bad after that, but I'm sure Dr. Sheldon will prescribe

something to help you. And if you should have any recurrence-well,

you'll come back and we'll look after you."

She turned round then to find Jake Sheldon standing there.

"Oh-Dr. Sheldon, I didn't hear you," she said, her face warm.

"I'll be back in a minute, Mr. Archer," Jake said to the old man.

"Sister Maynard, can you let me have Roger Brook's chart?"

Alison led the way to the duty room.

Jake, with Roger Brook's chart in his hand, looked at her, and for

perhaps the first time there was no laughter, no teasing, in his blue

eyes.

"You do that sort of thing very well, Sister," he said, taking her by

surprise. "He's always been a bit offhand when I've talked to him,

actually told me there was no problem, he could cope with everything,

but you got to his real anxieties. I was going to arrangq for someone

from the stomatherapy group to go and see him at home, but I'll fix it

for right away; I can see he needs that."

He smiled then. "Any chance of a quick cup of coffee?" he asked her.

"I'm due in Theatre in half an hour-pretty straightforward the two

admissions, an appendectomy, and a young fellow who came off his

motorbike, fractured femur. '

Alison handed him a mug of coffee, knowing now that he liked it black

with no sugar.

"We get more of your patients than we do of Dr. Reid's." she said

casually. "I understood you were both surgical registrars, but

David-Dr. Reid-seems to be doing more in the gynaecology line."



"Yes, he's been working with Curt more and moreI gather he's very good,

and he's finding this is perhaps the direction he wants to take. That's

a good thing about working here-we have the chance to change

direction.

It wouldn't surprise me if David decides to speciali se '

He put his cup down on her desk.

"Thanks, Sister."

At the door, he turned.

"While I was looking for you I happened to see the duty lists," he

said, and now the warm laughter was back in his eyes. "I see you're

off on Friday. I can take that day off; I'll pick you up and we'll go

for a picnic-time you saw something outside Windhoek. All right?"

Alison hesitated.

"Remember our deal," Jake murmured.

Why not? she thought. She still distrusted this man's charm, and she

disliked his arrogant confidence about women-and pretty nurses in

particular, she reminded herself-but-well, she had agreed to go out

with him. A picnic would be fun. And, as she had said to David, she

was certainly in no danger from Jake Sheldonand his charm.

"Thank you, Dr. Sheldon," she said. "I'd like that. Can I bring

anything?"

"You can bring some sandwiches or something; I'll bring a bottle of

wine. Only one other thing, Sister Maynard," he added. "On Friday

it's not Dr. Sheldon, it's Jake."

And on Friday morning, when the doorbell rang, Alison hurried to the

door and said, without prompting, "Good morning, Jake. What a lovely

day for a picnlc."

"You'll have to get used to the fact that it is always a lovely day

here, Alison," Jake said. "Until the rains come, anyway. '

"That should be quite soon, shouldn't it?" She asked as they went out

through the courtyard, Jake carrying the basket she had had ready.

"We begin to hope for the Small Rains next month," he told her. "The

Big Rains only come in January. But if the Small Rains don't come in

October it can become quite oppressive-"suicide month", I've heard old

South-Westers call it."

He took her hand in his, lightly, and swung it.

"I'm taking you out into the Khomas Hochland," he said. "Hochland, if

you know any German, means highlands, so a lass from Scotland should

feel at home there!"

He looked down at her.

"Mind, you'd be pretty chilly in your own Highlands dressed like



that."

"I really need to get a bit more tanned," Alison said, conscious of her

rather brief denim shorts. "Everyone here is so brown; I feel much too

pale."

"Bring your bathing costume to work," Jake suggested' If you have a

couple of hours off in the afternoon, you can nip up to the pool and do

some sunbathing. Quite a few of the nurses do." " ,

You would know, I gather, Alison returned, and she tried, without

success, to free her hand from his

Jake threw back his dark head and laughed. "Yes, I suppose I would,"

he agreed, and his hand held hers even more firmly. He pointed to a

four-wheel-drive Land Rover parked just ahead of them. "Here we

are."

"Gosh-you have one of these?" Alison said, impressed in spite of

herself.

"Great for desert trips," Jake told her. "Oh-thgre's someone coming

with us I'm very keen to have you meet. '

You too, Alison thought, and knew it was absurd to feel so

disappointed, so let down. Anyway, she really had no desire to spend

the whole day alone with Jake Sheldon.

"One of your girlfriends?" she asked, very coolly.

There was lazy laughter in Jake's blue eyes.

"You do jump to conclusions, don't you?" he said. "Why don't you give

folk a chance, Alison?"

They had reached the Land Rover. "Meet Shandy," Jake said. "I hope

you two will get on well together."

There was a large golden Labrador sitting on the back seat. He wagged

his tail so enthusiastically that his whole golden body was wriggling.

"Shandy-manners," Jake said sternly.

The dog held one paw out to Alison. She took it and shook it solemnly.

"Glad to meet you, Shandy," she said.

And it was only because she loved dogs, she told herself, that she was

so glad that this was the friend Jake wanted her to meet!

CHAPTER FIVE

JAKE SHELDON looked at the dog and the girl. He smiled, liking what he

saw.

"That's one of my tests," he told Alison.

"Tests?" she repeated, puzzled.

"Meeting Shandy," he said.

"Tests for what?" Alison asked.



"To be girl of the month," he said lightly.

This was something he liked to get clear from the start. Just so that

there were no misunderstandings. But there was something in Alison

Maynard's clear grey eyes now that made him feel just a little

uncomfortable Jake realised he had probably made something of a

tactical error, but he didn't know quite how to put it right.

"I'm not really into entering competitions," Alison said, and her voice

was cool. "Especially when the prize doesn't interest me that much."

It wasn't often that Jake felt at a loss, but he did at that moment.

Alison turned to Shandy and rubbed the big golden head. "How did a

nice dog like you come to get mixed up with a fellow like this?" she

said to the dog.

Jake threw back his head and laughed.

I was right, he thought, pleased. She has spirit, this girl, and she's

quite something when she lightens up a bit. I like you, Alison

Maynard.

"It was love at first sight," he told her. "I looked at this golden

butterball when he was six weeks old and I was lost." He risked, for a

moment, taking his hand off the wheel and covering Alison's lightly.

"And that was in spite of the competition," he said, deadpan. "Eight

other pups, and all delightful. Fortunately, Shandy fell for me

too."

"Labradors fall for anyone who gives them a kind word;' Alison told

him. But the coolness had gone from her eyes, and he was glad of

that.

"So tell me," he said, "how do you like Windhoek?"

She thought about that.

"I think I like it very much," she said at last. "I love seeing the

stately Herero women, in their long Victorian dresses and these

wonderful headdresses, and I love the touches of old German

architecture tucked away in corners. And-I don't know quite how to

explain this, but in the middle of the cosmopolitan atmosphere there

still seems to be a-a sort of excitement , a breathless feeling, like

you'd find in a frontier town in America last century."

"There's all that and more," Jake agreed. "Remember , there are still

people trying to sell illicit diamonds, and there are still big-game

hunters, and just outside Windhoek there's the desert. Look-the city's

only just out of sight and we're almost into scrubland here."

Alison had seen something else.

"A game park, Jake," she said, and she read from the notice ahead of

them, stumbling a little on the Afrikaans pronunciation. ""Daan

Viljoen Game Park". Is that where we're going?"




"The first game you're going to see," he told her firmly, "is at the

Etosha Pan. This is just a small game park-we'll come here some time,

but not until you've seen something better. Anyway, we couldn't take

Shandy in, and I did want you two to meet."

"Of course," Alison agreed demurely, and then said, "Tell me, Jake,

Shandy is such a friendly dog-surely most girls pass the test?"

There was a hint of warm teasing in her voice that he liked.

"Yes, most do," he agreed. "You might find it hard to believe, though,

but there are girls around who don't like dogs. '

A bit further on the tar ended and there was a gravel road.

"Almost there," Jake said as they rounded a corner.

And there it was, ahead of them. A big, ruined house, with empty

windows and broken walls. A mansion , completely incongruous here in

the scrubland.

"Oh."

Alison leaned forward, and he could see that she was fascinated.

"Oh, Jake," she murmured. "A huge house like that, out here. Tell me

about it."

"We used to call it the Ghost House," he told her as they drew nearer

to it. "It was built by one of the German cattle barons, and a lot of

the material and the furnishings were imported from Germany, and

brought over the desert from Swakopmund. Give or take a bit, that's

four hundred miles. Then it belonged to one of the old South-West

English settler families-I've spoken to an old man who grew up here; he

remembers family gatherings, the house filled with people, meals out on

that big stoep."

He parked the Land Rover, and opened the door. Shandy jumped out, and

Jake took Alison's hands in his as she jumped down. With the dog

running ahead, they walked over the dry golden grassland towards the

shell of the house.

Alison was silent when they went inside, and he liked that. He had

always felt this slight shiver here himself. Not frightening, just-an

atmosphere.

They walked from room to room, and when he took her hand she didn't

draw away. Most of the floorboards were broken now, and the staircase

looked considerably less safe than it had last time he was here.

Carefully, they climbed to the top storey, and looked out through the

broken windows.

"Bedrooms, and this would be the bathroom," Alison murmured, almost to

herself. And when they went " back downstairs she exclaimed, Oh, Jake,

this old cooker, still here in the kitchen! It must have cooked so

many family meals."

They walked down the imposing steps that led to the front entrance, and

Alison looked back.



"Why did they stop living here?" she asked him.

"The old boy I spoke to said the water failed and they couldn't farm

here any longer," he told her.

"The Ghost House-I like that," Alison said. She looked up at him as

they walked back towards the Land Rover. "You grew up in Windhoek,

Jake? Are your family still here?"

He shook his head.

"My Dad was a GP here. He retired five years ago. He and Mum moved to

Cape Town-my sister lives there, she and her husband have three kids;

my folks wanted to be closer to them."

"Do you miss them?" Alison asked unexpectedly.

He looked down at her, and something about the warmth in her grey eyes

stopped the easy, glib denial on his lips.

"Yes, I do," he said slowly. "I miss them a lot. My folks, yes, but

my sister and I have always been close; we've always been friends, and

I get on well with her husband. And the kids are great; I-yes, I miss

them."

For a moment he thought she was going to say something , but she seemed

to change her mind as they reached the car.

Jake opened the door.

"We're just going to drive round the corner," he told her. "There's a

little dam and some trees-nice spot for a picnic."

When they were parked again, in the welcome shade of some trees, he

lifted out the picnic baskets, and the rug, and set them down under the

biggest tree. her voice. Does she think David should still be in " 1

q' h " mourning for her sister? he wondered, more than a

How about your fami y. e asked her. Have you little taken aback.

brothers and sisters?" "Alison-' he began, but she had all too

clearly

She had been smiling at the sight of Shandy swim- decided that this was

enough. her fa e.the dam, but he saw the sudden shadow on "What about

this picnic?" she said gaily. "I don't know " , , about you but I'm

starving!"




There's only me, she said. For a moment she hesi- She unpacked the

cold chicken and the hard-boiled tated. "I-had a sister, Cathy," she

said carefully. "She was two years older than me, but we were friends

as eggs she had brought, and Jake opened the cooler bag well as

sisters. She was a nurse too. She died in a car and poured white wine

for them. accident two years ago. , "Brotchen, too," Alison said. "I

went to the bakery

"I'm sorry, Alison," Jake said, and he had a sudden as soon as they

were open. and surprismg longing to put his arms around her, to The

food was good, the wine perfect, and the day hold her close. Just

that. It was a strange and disturbing warm. When they had finished

eating, and Alison had feeling. said she wouldn't have any more wine,

Jake lay down

She turned to him, her grey eyes steady. on the rug. He was amused to

see that Alison, after

"She was engaged to David-David Reid," she a moment's hesitation, lay

down too, but at a distance " , from him. said then. You didn t

know-he hasn't told you " , , " about Cathy?" It's all right, you

know, he told her lazily. We have

He shook his head, and some things he had vaguely

Shandy for a chaperon." wondered about fell into place. Alison

laughed. " "Shandy is exhausted after his swim," she pointed

He was very quiet, very reserved, when he first out. "All he wants to

do is sleep." came here," he sald slowly, remembering. "If I thought

" , about it at all, I just put it down to settling in a strange Me

too, Jake assured her, not entirely truthfully. place, so far from

home. And-look, Alison, I like But soon the warmth of the day and the

effects of David, we get on well together both at work and out two

glasses of pleasantly chilled white wine had their of it, but-I suppose

men don't tell each other that effect, and he felt himself drifting off

to sleep. sort of thing, the way women do." When he woke he saw that

Alison had also fallen

"I suppose not," Alison agreed, and he was glad to asleep. But as she

had slept she had moved towards see that some of the shadows had left

her eyes. him, qust a little, and her arm was touching his. He

"I suppose that's one of the things he and Marta leaned on one elbow

and looked down at her. Her have in common," Jake said then, thinking

about it. face was pillowed on one hand and her arm was already

"They've both lost someone they love. I was pleased for golden from

the sun.

Marta, but I guess meeting her has helped David too." Gently, he

touched her cheek. It was soft as he had

"He must have been pretty lonely at first," Alison known it would be.

And warm from the sun. Her lips agreed, and he looked at her, for

there was some- would be warm, too. thing-too light, too casual, he

wasn't sure what-in He kissed her, meaning it to be a light, buttertly

kiss to wake her. But somehow, when he felt her mouth against his, her

body warm and close, the buttertly klss changed to something else.

For a moment she opened her eyes and looked up at him. And then, with



a small sound, she moved in his arms, and her lips were as urgent, as

demanding as his.

Alison woke to find Jake's lips on hers and his arms around her.

Afterwards, she would tell herself that it had only been because she

was half-asleep that her response had been immediate and instinctive,

everything in her body responding to the warm closeness and the urgent

demand of this man.

Slowly, at last, she drew back from him. And just in time, she

thought, bewildered. Any longer and-Jake was still very close to her,

his dark blue eyes lazy, smiling.

She had to say something, do something, to break this unbelievable

longing to move back into his arms. Unbelievable, and ridiculous, she

told herself firmly.

She sat up.

"I'm sorry, Jake," she said, not quite steadily. "I shouldn't have-let

you kiss me."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Let me?" he murmured. "I had the impression there was rather more

participation than just letting me. '

Alison could feel the warm tide of colour rise in her face.

"Well-yes," she said awkwardly. "But I shouldn't have."

Jake leaned on one elbow. He was still disturbingly close to her, and

she couldn't move any further back because of the tree they were

under.

"I suppose this is my cue to put my hand on my heart and say, Is there

someone else?"

She wanted to look away, but his hand held her chin lightly, forcing

her to keep her eyes on his.

"In a way," she said, after a moment.

"Only in a way?" he asked. "That seems a bit indefinite , if not

unsatisfactory. '

It is, she thought, and the certainty of this thought shook her. But

she didn't say anything.

Gently, he touched the corner of her mouth.

"Look, Alison= he said, and there was lazy amusement in his voice.

"-there's no need to take this too seriously, you know. You're

obviously not committed in any binding way to this fellow, whoever he

is. He should never have let you leave him not knowing, but I guess

that's his business. And yours, of course. Anyway , I'm certainly not

committed to anyone, and I have no intention of being committed. So

what's wronq with a kiss, when it's what we both want?"



He made it sound as if she was making a fuss when there was no need to.

Making a big deal out of what was obviously, to him, just a kiss.

"You're right, of course, it was just a kiss," she said firmly.

There was laughter in his dark blue eyes. "Just a kiss," he agreed,

and he moved purposefully towards her.

This time Alison was in control of herself. She returned his kiss, but

there was no danger this time of a return of that surge of passion that

had swept over her.

Jake drew back.

"You see?" he murmured. "Just a kiss. And since I like kissing you,

and I think perhaps you enjoy it too, and we both know there are no

strings attached-then why not?"

Put that way, it sounded very reasonable. And there was no way she

could say to him, Because it's David I love, and because I'm waiting

for him to come to his senses, to realise that he loves me too.

No, she couldn't say any of that. But it was true; of course it was.

I do love David, she thought, and knew it was ridiculous to feel a

sudden doubt.

Jake was waiting for her reply.

"Why not?" she agreed after a moment.

Alison had to admit that Jake was nothing but professional in the

clinic.

Not that she had expected anything else, she reminded herself. But at

the same time she had to admit that her initial impression of Dr. Jake

Sheldon, the professional charmer, would have led her to think of him

as a less dedicated doctor than he in fact was.

A few days after their picnic, he came into the duty room to talk to

her about a patient he had just admitted Although Alison was senior

sister on Men's Surgical, there were four small private wards that had

either male or female patients, and this patient was Mrs. Kayapua.

"I want to tell you about her," Jake said, sitting on the edge of

Alison's desk. "Her husband is a Member of Parliament-they're Hereros,

and Mrs. Kayapua has lived a very traditional life until recently. She

came to me first soon after they came to live in Windhoek, and I found

she had diabetes. She's been on insulin, and she's been fairly well

controlled, until a few months ago. But I've been unhappy about her

circulation, and I've brought her in because there's no doubt now that

she has advanced vascular disease in the large and small arteries of

her right leg.

"So far we've been coping with it, but she knocked her shin last week,

and she didn't even realise she'd done it. When I found the bruise,

during her check-up, her husband remembered it happening."

"The disturbed function of the nerves," Alison said slowly. And she

knew all too well the danger of this. "Gangrene."




"Not yet," he said, "but I doubt very much if she's going to escape it.

Meanwhile, I want you to keep a check on all the clinical

manifestations-paleness of the lower extremities, reduced pulse volume

in the arteries, blanching and exaggerated pallor after the leg is

elevated for sixty seconds."

He stood up.

"She's a nice lady," he said quietly. "Not too happy about being in

hospital-I haven't spelt out the picture for her yet, but I think she

knows. Do what you can to reassure her-you're good at that."

When he had gone, Alison went back to see her new patient. Mrs.

Kayapua was lying back against her pillows, her eyes closed. She was a

big, stately woman, with the fine and striking features Alison had

noticed in the Herero men and women.

"Would you like some tea or coffee, Mrs. Kayapua?" Alison asked, and

the woman opened her eyes. " y ,

Thank ou, Sister, she said, and she tried to smile. "I would like

tea."

Alison sent her staff nurse to make tea, and sat down beside her new

patient.

"I hope Dr. Sheldon will let me go home soon," the woman in the bed

said. "I should be there, looking after my husband."

"Any children still at home, Mrs. Kayapua?" Alison asked.

"One daughter, the youllgest; she is at training college here in

Windhoek." "Then she will be able to help her father," Alison

suggested. "Sometimes it's good for young folk to have responsibility

like that."

"I suppose she can help a little, yes," Mrs. Kayapua agreed

doubtfully. But she looked a little brighter.

"You are right-it could be good for her. She is the youngest; I think

we have spoiled her."

Alison asked about the rest of the family, and heard about the son, who

was a lawyer, and the other daughter, who was married, and about the

two grandchildren And over the next few days she got to know that Mrs.

Kayapua hadn't found it easy coming to live in the city, to take the

part she had to because her husband was a Member of Parliament.

She managed to get her patient to talk about her fears, to admit that

she was worried about her leg.

"I know Dr. Sheldon watches me carefully," she said one day, when

Alison was checking the long delay in the return of colour to the right

foot. Her brown eyes, steady on Alison's face, were anxious. "But he

cannot stop this badness inside my leg, can he, Sister Maynard?"

"No, I'm afraid he can't, Mrs. Kayapua," Alison replied. "But he will



know how to deal with it." " ,

He is a good doctor, I know that, Mrs. Kayapua said.

Later that day, when her husband came to visit her, Alison let Jake

know, as he had asked her to, so that he could speak to them both

together.

Mr. Kayapua was a tall man, with the same aesthetically pleasing

features, and with a dignified bearing that made Alison feel that he

must be a valued member of the government.

Alison, in the duty room, saw that the door to her patient's room was

closed for a long time. Eventually, Jake came out alone.

"He's going to stay with his wife for a bit," he said, coming into the

duty room. "When he goes, go in and see her, Alison. I've put all the

cards on the table they know we'll do all we can, but they accept that

if gangrene does set in we have no choice."

He looked tired, Alison thought.

"She's a strong lady, Jake, in every way," she said quietly. "She can

take it."

It was only later that she realised that in that moment of weariness

and closeness he hadn't said "Sister Maynard', he had said "Alison'.

And she hadn't said "Dr. Sheldon'.

Two days later, when she changed the dressing on the wound on Mrs.

Kayapua's leg, she saw what she knew she had been waiting for: the

first signs of darkened skin, and the increased coldness of the whole

foot. She sent for Jake right away.

"We're going to have to operate, Mrs. Kayapua," he said after only a

moment's swift and professional assessment. He added, gently, "I'm

sorry, but we have no choice. '

The woman in the bed looked up at him.

"Am I going to lose my foot, Dr. Sheldon?" she asked.

"Yes, you are," Jake replied, with an honesty that Alison could see

hurt him as much as it hurt his patient.

And a little later, in the duty room, he said to Alison, "I'm very much

afraid we're going to have to do more than the foot. A lower-limb

amputation, possibly." His voice was steady, professional, but his

eyes were bleak.

And then, suddenly, he was angry. "All the progress medicine has made'

he said, not quite steadily, "and there are still things we just aren't

able to control, things we have to sit back and darned well accept!"

Then, as swiftly as it had come, his anger had gone.

"I'm sorry to let off steam like that," he said, and he tried to smile.

"I'll let you know when we want her ready for surgery."

Alison watched him go, and she thought, a little unwillingly, that she



had certainly underestimated Jake Sheldon when she had first met him.

What was it he had said to her? "Why don't you give folk a chance?"

No, she admitted, honestly. No, Dr. Sheldon. I

wasn't prepared to give you much of a chance in any way. And perhaps I

was wrong in that.

It was a disturbing thought.

And Jake Sheldon was a disturbing man, in every way.

CHAPTER SIX

WHEN Mrs. Kayapua was brought back to her room after surgery, the

lower-limb amputation having been unavoidable, Jake, still in his

theatre gown, came too. He waited until Alison and her staff nurse had

settled their patient, with the foot of the bed raised.

"Good girl," he murmured, almost to himself. "I'd said I wanted the

leg elevated after surgery, but I didn't say how. '

"We were taught not to elevate on a pillow," Alison said, her voice low

as well, although their patient was still deeply unconscious. "A

flexion contracture of the hip could result."

"Or a contracture of the next joint above the amputation ," Jake said.

"And we don't want this lady to have any more problems than she already

has. I'd like to discuss the post-operative treatment, Sister."

Leaving one of the junior nurses to special Mrs. Kayapua, Alison and

Jake went to the duty room. Without asking, Alison made a mug of

coffee and handed it to Jake. She waited while he drank half of it.

"Right," he said, and he put the mug down. "As you know, haemorrhage

is a possible post-operative complication, so you'll be watching for

any signs of bleeding. Check the suction drainage every half-hour. I

want a tourniquet right there, so that if there is severe and sudden

bleeding it can be applied and pulled tight while you get me. Day or

night, Sister, any bleeding and I want to be called."

His blue eyes darkened. "And I want to be called when she's fully cons

ious he said quietly.

Alison had done enough surgical nursing and had seen enough amputation

cases to know why.

"Because she's likely to be in shock," she said. "And although she

knew this was going to happen she could be confused, and she may not

fully realise what has happened. '

Jake nodded.

"Added to that' he said, and his voice was level "she knew her foot was

going to be amputated, and although I said she could lose her leg below

the knee as well the actuality of that could be a shock. If it's

necessary, Alison-if I'm operating, and there's no way I can get

here-will you tell her? I know you'll do it the right way. And it

wouldn't be a good idea to have her wait until I get there."



"Yes, I will," Alison replied, more than a little apprehensive at the

thought of doing this, but pleased more than she would have thought

possible by his confidence in her.

It was a few hours later that Mrs. Kayapua, who had been drifting in

and out of consciousness all day, opened her eyes, looked at her

husband, and said clearly that she wanted to see Dr. Sheldon.

Alison, summoned by the junior nurse, sent a message , but Jake was

operating.

She went back to the small private room and told Mrs. Kayapua and her

husband that Dr. Sheldon was unavailable, and why. And she reminded

herself that Jake had been sure she could handle this.

"Dr. Sheldon said my foot would be gone, Sister' the woman said, and

now her voice was less steady, "But I can feel it-it hurts."

Alison took Mrs. Kayapua's hands in hers.

"That happens, Mrs. Kayapua," she said quietly. "And it's going to be

helpful, because when you get your prosthesis-your artificial limb-that

sensation will help you to direct it, and to become used to it. Mrs.

Grellman, our physiotherapist, will be talking to you about that." The

older woman's eyes were on her face.

"You said "limb", Sister," she said. "So-have I lost my leg as

well?"

"From below the knee, yes, you have," Alison told her,. her voice

steady. For a moment the woman's face was completely still, as if it

had turned to stone. And then, with an effort, she smiled.

"And so," she said to her husband, "you will have to let me go back to

wearing our traditional dress, instead of the Western clothes you

thought I should wear, because under it no one will see this thing."

She closed her eyes then, and drifted back to sleep.

"The pain-you will give her something, Sister?" her husband asked.

Alison assured him that they would keep his wife comfortable, and that

they would let him know if he was needed. He would be in a special

committee, he told her, and he left a telephone number where he could

be reached. When Jake came up a little later, Mrs. Kayapua was still

asleep, and Alison told him about her reaction.

"She's quite something, this lady, isn't she? I was pretty sure she'd

handle it," Jake said. "But even so I was worried. I'll be in and out

to see her, of course." Over the next few days Alison found herself

humbled, as she had sometimes been before, by a patienYs positive

acceptance of surgery such as this. Marta Grellman came in every day

to give Mrs.

Kayapua gentle exercising, and showed her exercises to do on her own.

Alison found she had no need to remind her patient to do these

exercises.

"You're my best patient, Mrs. Kayapua," she said one day. "You do

what you're told and you never comp lam



The older woman smiled.

"This is because as much as I like you, Sister, I want g , " to et

home." And then her smile gone, she said, And I tell myself many

times, this is not going to defeat me. We are a proud people, we

Hereros; we have come through wars, we have come through massacres by

the early German soldiers, the Schutztruppe, and we are still a nation.

I may have lost a small piece of myself but I am still a woman, a wife

and a mother!"

Alison felt her eyes blur with tears.

"You certainly are, Mrs. Kayapua," she agreed, not quite steadily.

Apart from Mrs. Kayapua, Jake had patients constantly coming and going

on A1ison's floor, and there was never a day that he wasn't in and out

a few times. But David was seldom there. Alison knew, from talking to

other sisters in the cafeteria, that he was now doing gynaecology

almost exclusively.

But that, she reminded herself, was work. Apart from a few brief and

hurried words in passing, she hadn't seen him out of work either. She

had been busy on her floor, and often tired at night, and she had been

out for dinner twice, once with Jake, and once with the sister from

Women's Surgical and her husband But she couldn't help feeling hurt

that David hadn't made some move towards seeing her.

Hurt, and yet in some strange way there was a feeling of-no, it

couldn't be relief. And yet there was this disturbing awareness that

if she didn't see David she wouldn't have to examine her changed

feelings towards him. Changed? No, that wasn't possible; she was

being foolish, she told herself.

It was Marta Grellman who seemed to feel that some explanation was

needed. "

We feel so bad, David and I," she said one day when she was leaving the

ward after Mrs. Kayapua's treatment. "We have neglected you badly,

Alison, but

Trudy has had tonsillitis. She is better now, though, and we were

saying we must see how you are doing."

I'm doing all right, thank you, Alison thought, trying not to be hurt

by this "we', and "David and I', and the fact that Marta's daughter's

tonsillitis had kept David tied up. Not that Marta was trying to hurt




her, she knew that. The German physiotherapist's blue eyes were clear

and friendly.

I have to accept this-this friendship between David and Marta, she told

herself after Marta had gone. And I have to accept, too, that we've

been apart, David and I, for so long. We need time.

The next day she made a point of looking out for David, catching him as

he hurried away from Women's Surgical.

"Hi-glad I caught you, David," she said breathlessly' You quite a

stranger."

"I know," David replied. "Between work and Trudy being ill I seem to

have lost a couple of weeks."

I am not standing here waiting for a move from him, Alison told herself

firmly.

"How about coming to have a meal with me?" she asked him brightly.

"I'd like that, Alison," he replied.

He seemed to be waiting, and she knew why.

"Would Marta like to come too?" she asked him. And then, trying not

to sound hopeful she added, "She may not want to leave Trudy, of

course."

"That's no problem now that Trudy's better," David assured her, and

Alison said untruthfully that she was glad of that.

They fixed a time, and David hurried off, his white coat flying.

In for a penny, Alison thought, and she invited Jake to come as well,

because it was as easy to cook for four as for three, she told herself.

And then, honesty winning, she admitted that it would help her, having

Jake there.

"Good; I can invite you back without having you suspect my motives,"

Jake said.

"Why should I suspect your motives?" Alison asked him, her eyes wide.

"I know very well what your motives are ! '

He laughed. ", ,

It's another of my tests, he said then, his dark blue eyes warm as he

looked down at her. "Checking out if you can cook. '

"Why should that be of any interest?" Alison countered' Considering

any girl of the month isn't likely to be around long enough for cooking

to be a problem!"

"True," Jake admitted. "But there's something reassuring about a girl

being able to cook. So-thanks, I'll be glad to come."

It's a funny thing, Alison thought as he left her, but I've actually

grown to enjoy these little exchanges with Jake.



Jake arrived early, the night of the dinner party. Alison was glad to

see him as she checked the vegetables ready to stirred the boeuf

bourguignon, and put the new potatoes on.

"I've brought some Merlot-rather nice qouth African red wine," Jake

said. "Can I open it to let it breathe?"

He joined her in the tiny kitchen, and when he had opened the wine he

inspected the large pot, and then admired the fruit salad she had

made.

"Everything looks great," he said appreciatively. "Specially you."

She had put her hair up, and he tucked back a tendril that had escaped.

She knew, as his hand touched her cheek, that he was going to kiss her,

and he did, his lips warm on hers, his arms imprisoning her, in the

small kitchen.

"Nice, but you're not letting yourself go," he murmured.

Alison coloured, remembering all too well just how easy it was to let

herself go in Jake's arms.

"Either you're thinking about the food or you're thinking about that

fellow," he said. "I've been wondering , Alison-is he married? Is

that why it's such an indefinite thing?"

She drew back.

"He isn't married," she told him. "But anyway, it is the food I'm

thinking about."

And that, she knew, wasn't entirely truthful, for what she had been

thinking was that this was rather pleasant-she and Jake together in the

small kitchen. And that was a foolish thought. But she couldn't help

feeling pleased at the success of her meal, in view of his remark about

cooking being a test.

The stoep was just big enough for them to sit outside to have coffee.

Jake talked about plans for a long weekend visit to Etosha, and he and

David worked out if it was possible for both of them to be away from

the clinic at the same time.

"As long as we have someone on stand by for any emergency, it should be

afl right," Jake said. "We can all go in the Land Rover; it'll be more

fun that way room for Brigitte to sleep if she needs to."

Marta laughed.

"The last thing Brigitte would admit to is needing to sleep," she said.

"Isn't that so, David?"

"She's a party girl in training," David agreed.

Alison looked at him. And suddenly, unbearably, it hurt so much that

Marta was here, with David, and Cathy was gone. She could feel her

throat tighten, and she knew that she was close to tears. She thought,

afterwards, that that was why she spoke as she did, without really

thinking.



"Talking of parties, David," she said, lightly, "do you remember the

one at St. Margaret's when Tom Wilson climbed up the clock tower?"

"And draped Matron's unmentionables at the top? Who could forget a

party like that?" he replied , smiling.

"Was that the one when the final-year medical students sent a bunny

gram to Sir Martin?" Alison asked, but David shook his head and said

no, that party had been a New Year one.

"Oh, I can't remember if I told you, but I visited Clare and Bill and

the children a couple of weeks before I left," Alison said then. "Your

nephews are wild little boys, but most entertaining."

"Neither Clare nor I seem to get around to much in the way of

letter-writing," David admitted. "I don't even know if they decided to

go ahead with building onto the house. '

Alison told him how successful the extension was, with a playroom for

the children and a study for his brother-in-law.

"And of course, if they do She stopped.

Jake Sheldon was watching her, his dark blue eyes steady on her face,

with something in these eyes that made her all at once extremely

uncomfortable.

"It's getting late," he said brusquely. "I promised to help with the

dishes, Alison-maybe we should start."

She opened her mouth to ask what on earth he was talking about, but

that something in his eyes stopped her.

"We must get back anyway," Marta said. "My mother is staying over, but

she doesn't go to sleep until I am home. Alison, thank you so much. I

hope you will give me your recipe; the beef was wonderful."

There were hurried good nights then, and David and Marta left.

When they had gone, Alison turned to Jake.

"What was that in aid of, Jake?" she asked him coolly.

"Come on, Alison," he said impatiently. "Don't come the innocent with

me. You know darned well I was fed up with all this "Do you remember"

business, and I bet Marta was too, although she has better manners than

I do! Just what were you trying to do?" His hands were hard on her

arms, and he looked down at her, unsmiling.

Jake was very angry.

He hadn't expected Alison to do anything as deliberately hurtful as

that-to set out to exclude Marta in that way, by talking about the

memories and the experiences she and David had shared-it was

unforgivable

And then, as he looked down at Alison, a strange thing happened.

Slowly, his anger left him, to be replaced by a feeling that was quite

unfamiliar to him. A warm, treacherous, tender sort of feeling?

Whatever , it was extremely disturbing.



He took both of Alison's hands in his.

"My dear girl," he said softly, "you can't expect David to go on

grieving for your sister. I know you didn't even mention her name, but

all the things you were talking about-you wanted David to remember her;

you wanted him to stop thinking about Marta and to think about Cathy

instead. Alison, your sister is dead. David has to get on with his

life and you have to let him."

All the colour drained from Alison's face.

"He seems to be doing a pretty good job of getting on with his life,"

she said, not quite steadily. Then, illogically, she added, "And I'm

not your "dear girl", so don't call me that!"

He refused to release her hands, although she was trying to pull away

from him.

"Aren't you?" he said, more than a little taken aback to find that he

meant it.

"Anyway," Alison said, "you-don't understand."

Now she managed to free her hands.

"If you really meant that offer to help wash up, we'd better start,"

she said, and her voice was clear and light.

There was nothing more Jake could say. They did the washing-up, fairly

silently at first, but he was determined that the shadows would leave

Alison's grey eyes, that the colour would return to her cheeks. After

a while he began to talk about all sorts of things-medical school in

Cape Town, his childhood here in Windhoek, memories of the long journey

south, when the road wasn't even tarred, the floods that hit Windhoek

in 1934.

"And do you know," he told Alison solemnly, encouraged by the faint

flush in her cheeks, by the beginnings of a smile, "there was a

drought, so they had a day of prayer for rain, and the next day-the

floods? I guess they overdid the prayers."

"I don't believe you," Alison said, and now she was really smiling.

"You're having me on."

"I swear it's true," Jake assured her.

He set down the last plate on the kitchen counter. "You must admit I'm

pretty good in the washing-up line," he said modestly. " y g ,

Prett ood, Alison admitted, and he saw, with relief, that there were no

more shadows in her eyes.

He took her hand and drew her towards the couch. Casually, he put his

arm around her shoulder.

For a long time, they sat in silence. Her hair brushed against his

cheek and he could smell the perfume she was wearing.

"I think we should Alison began, and she moved away from him.



"Come here," he said lazily, and drew her back towards him.

She didn't protest, but when he began to kiss her, his lips moving from

her cheek to a tendril of hair that had escaped, and then, at last, to

her mouth, she was very still in his arms, still holding back from

him.

And then, in a moment, she changed, and he could feel the release as

she allowed herself to respond to him-her lips, her arms, her whole

body gloriously answering hIs own urgency.

It was a long time before they drew apart.

"I don't know what happens to me when you kiss me," Alison murmured,

her voice blurred and bewildered'I-I want you to know, Jake, I'm not

usually as-as

"As uninhibited?" he suggested, for the pleasure of seeing warm colour

flood her cheeks. "I suppose we do have a fairly primitive reaction to

each other. But you must admit it's-rather pleasant."

Her head rested on his shoulder, and her hair was fragrant and soft

against his cheek. There was something about this girl, something

about the way she made him feel, that he had never known before, Jake

found himself thinking.

She had said, too, that she didn't know what happened to her when he

kissed her. He wondered how she felt when this fellow she was "in a

way' in love with kissed her.

But he certainly wasn't going to ask her that. Not when he had managed

to take the shadows from her eyes, managed to make her forget

everything and everyone in the world except him while they were in each

other's arms.

"It's late, Jake," Alison murmured.

"I'd better go," he agreed unwillingly.

He looked down at her. "This time," he added.

And just to make sure that she knew what he was really saying he kissed

her again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SoME rIMEs Alison had often thought in her years of nursing, you got a

model patient. A patient who did everything he or she was told, who

never complained, who was always pleasant, always grateful for anything

the nursing staff did.

Mrs. Kayapua was a patient like that.

As Alison and her staff took care of her through her recovery period,

washed and powdered the wound area, changed the dressing and the stump

sock she would ask what they were doing, or she would ask about

families, boyfriends, holiday plans.

"Anything to make our job easier," Alison said to Heidi Muller one



day.

Marta Grellman, too, often said that she wished all her patients would

co-operate as much as Mrs. Kayapua did.

She was on crutches now, and learning how to cope with the three-point

crutch walk, how to exert pressure on her hands, and how to keep her

trunk upright.

She had even, Marta said, brought up the subject of her prosthesis, and

discussed, sensibly and reasonably , the temporary one she would have

fitted before leaving hospital, as it would be some months before a

permanent one could be fitted.

Perhaps, Alison thought later, it was because she was so pleasant and

so reasonable, and so positive, that she herself almost missed

realising that her patient was in fact very apprehensive about leaving

hospital and going home.

They had been talking, while Alison changed the dressing, about the

arrangements to be made for twice weekly physiotherapy sessions.

"You'll manage to get someone to bring you?" Alison asked, and the

older woman nodded.

"My husband or my daughter always takes me where I want to go in any

case, Sister," she said. "There are not many women of my age, in our

people, who drive. The younger ones are changing, and that is good,

and my daughter will be pleased to do this."

Deftly Alison finished putting on the new bandage.

"She'll be pleased to have you home, I'm sure," she said. "And you

will certainly be very happy to be away from here ! '

"Of course, Sister," Mrs. Kayapua replied quickly.

Too quickly, Alison thought. She looked at her patient. The older

woman turned away to straighten one of the photographs on her bedside

table-a photo of her small grandchildren. There was just the slightest

tremor in her hand, the faintest tightening around her mouth that made

Alison wonder.

"At the same time," she said casually, "it must be quite a thought. All

this time there's been someone here, someone to come if anything's

wrong, someone to tell you there's nothing to worry about. It's going

to be very different being on your own, isn't it?"

Mrs. Kayapua nodded.

"It is foolish of me," she said apologetically, "because I want so much

to be back at home with my family. But sometimes I think, What if I

fall and there is no one there to help me up? What if my wound starts

to bleed and I cannot stop it? What if-?"

PP "

She sto ed, then said, her voice low, What if the same thing happens

with my other leg?"



Alison sat down on the bed and took both of the older woman's hands in

hers.

"I'm not going to say that none of that will happen, Mrs. Kayapua,"

she said steadily. "Some of these things are certainly possible. We'll

ask Mrs. Grellman to show she was worried," Alison said. "She's

always so bright, you the best way to get up if you do fall. It isn't

likely but I should have looked beyond that." that your wound will

bleed, but I will show you what "I think she had us all fooled," Jake

agreed. "I certo do if it does. I think we should ask your husband

tainly didn't realise, and I'm mighty glad you did." to get you a

phone that you can carry around with He looked at his watch. "I'm

supposed to be in my you-it would probably give him more peace of rooms

in two minutes," he said, and he finished his mind too." " , , , 'q

coffee. Thanks, Alison.

Her hands tightened on her patient s. "I can t He strode off along the

corridor, whistling. promise you that your other leg Is going to be

all And he is another one who is always bright and nght, she said. But

the signs are good. The circulation cheerful, Alison

thought-surprising herself at her always was much better m your left

leg, remember. y And you'll be having regular check-ups with Dr.

pleasure in the realisation, and at the lack of an hostilSheldon , so

he will be watching you very carefully. Ity now in her thoughts of

Jake Sheldon. But if it does happen we will all be here to help you

But he was anything but bright and cheerful the next day, when two of

his patients were brought in after to get through it. , emergency

surgery.

For a long time the older woman's brown eyes "Young fools!" he said

angrily, after he and Alison remained on her face, and then, slowly,

Mrs. Kayapua had seen the two young brothers settled. "The older

smiled. " , one is only seventeen and the kid is thirteen. Big

Thank you, my dear, she said very quietly. "Thank brother took him for

a spin on his motorbike-and you for your honesty, and thank you for

understanding said it didn't matter about wearing a crash helmet. '

that I needed you to tell me these things. The older boy had a

fractured femur, but it was the

Alison stood up. younger one who had come off worst.

"I'm going to send Nurse Muller in with a cup of tea "We won't know the

damage till that swelling on the for you now, Mrs. Kayapua. brain

eases," Jake said tersely. "I'm not too happy about

At the door, she turned. g, , y , " his breathin for one thing; that s

wh I wanted Sim s

If there is anything else that worries you, please position. I'm

prescribing anti-inflammatory suppositalk to me. Will you promise

that? tories to reduce the risk of further swelling, and I want " ,

I promise, the woman in the bed said, and Alison a drip maintained

until he can take naso-gastric feeds. knew that she would keep that

promise. Tomorrow we'll increase the fluid and correct the

That afternoon, when Jake had done his rounds, he electrolyte balance."

came into the duty room, as he always did now, and He ran his hand

through his thick dark hair, already Alison, without asking him, made



coffee. rumpled. "Bloody fools!" he said, and he scowled.

Thanks, Sister, he said, taking the cup from her. "Take it easy,

Jake," Alison said quietly. "I've just been in to see Mrs. K; she was

telling me With an all too obvious effort, he calmed down. about your

talk with her. You obviously helped her a "Sorry," he said, and he

tried to smile. "I just blow my great deal." top wlth something like

this, something that shouldn't

I m just sorry it took me some time to realise that have happened."

He stood up.

"Oh, well, I have a fellow still pleasantly drowsy from the premed he

had before this lot was rushed in-I'd better go and deal with his piles

now!"

At the door, he turned.

"Thanks, Alison," he said quietly. ,

That da and the next, Alison couldn t help wondering if their plans to

go to Etosha would have to be shelved because of this, but by the

following week the younger boy was making reasonable progress, and once

the swelling was reduced the fear of possible brain damage was over.

And the trip to Etosha was on.

Marta had already given Alison a list of provisions to take, reminded

her to start a course of anti-malaria tablets, and also made some

suggestions with regard to clothing.

"I hope you don't mind, Alison," she'd said. "That I do it this way, I

mean. There is a shop at the rest camp, but we like to take our own

food, and this way we divide the work of getting it. And please don't

forget a big shady hat; it can be very hot, and the sun very strong, in

the middle of the day. Oh, yes, and remember to pack insect

repellant-it's essential for after dark, when the malaria mosquitoes

come out.

"I'm grateful for your help, Marta," Alison had said, meaning it. As

she often did, she'd felt a little awkward with this girl.

In other circumstances, the German physiotherapist 's quiet

friendliness would have been just what she needed in this strange new

life. But there was always the thought of David to make a barrier

between them, Alison would often find herself thinking.

At least on my side, she would have to add, with painful honesty.

Jake had done as he promised and talked to Matron, and Alison found

herself with a long weekend that she really didn't think she deserved

at this stage.

They left early on the Friday morning, and Jake came just after seven

to pick Alison up.

"The others are in the Land Rover," he told her.

"What about Shandy?" Alison asked him as he took her duffel bag and



the basket of food.

"The girl next door usually takes him if he can't come with me," he

told her.

Girl next door? For a moment Alison felt a surprising and completely

unwarranted interest in her.

"She's twelve-she and her folks are old friends of mine," Jake said.

Alison hoped he hadn't seen the colour rise in her cheeks, but she

didn't really think he would have missed it.

The journey to the Etosha Pan took just over five hours, with one or

two stops on the way.

"I'm sorry, Jake," Marta said, reappearing from a convenient bush with

her two little girls. "This must be quite a different journey for

you!"

"It is," Jake agreed. He lifted Brigitte up into the Land Rover. "But

for my two best girls nothing is too much trouble. Now you, Trudy."

They were dear little girls, Alison found, Trudy quiet and thoughtful,

Brigitte bright and bouncy. Marta was good with them, she thought,

loving and patient, yet firm.

And David?

She wondered about that.

He seemed to be very fond of the little girls, very much at ease with

them. But once or twice Alison saw him glance from Marta to the

children, and she thought that there was a hint of a shadow in his

eyes. Other people wouldn't notice, she told herself. I do because I

have known him so long, and because And there, even in her thoughts,

she stopped. Somehow, the words no longer had any meaning.

Because I love him, she wanted to say, wanted to think. But did she?

Wasn't it true that she no longer felt the same about David?

The thought, the possibility, was too much for her to dwell on, and she

was very glad when they reached the national park.

The rest camp they were to spend the three nights in was called

Okavkvejo.




"We chose this one because there is a waterhole right at the edge of

the camp," Marta told her while the men went to the office. "At night

it is lit, and we can see the animals when they come to drink."

"Don't they mind the lights?" Alison asked.

A small hand slipped into hers. "I think they like it 'cos the small

ones can see when the big fierce animals come," Trudy said softly.

"That does make sense," Alison agreed.

Jake and David came back then.

"We couldn't get one of the big cottages, I'm afraid," Jake said. "So

we've got two small ones, next to each other." He turned to Alison,

his dark blue eyes guileless' You and I can share one, Alison," he

said. "And David and Martaand the children can have the other."

Somehow, this was a situation Alison hadn't thought of, and she didn't

know what to do about it. I'm a big girl, she told herself, and I can

take care of myself. And of you, Jake Sheldon.

"Is that all right with you, Alison?" David asked carefully.

And that decided it. Because it was obviously all right with him.

Alison lifted her chin. "Yes, it's fine," she said, her voice clear

and steady.

The cottages were small, but delightful, she thought. Each had two

tiny bedrooms separated by a bathroom, a small kitchen with a fridge, a

small two-plate cooker and a table and chairs. And outside there was a

big stoep, with a fireplace.

"Lovely!" Alison exclaimed. "Are we going to have a-?"

She stopped.

"Not a barbecue, a bra ai she said. "Are we?"

"Of course," Jake replied. "But let's get settled in now, and we can

have a game drive before sunset."

Settling in didn't take long, and there was a fair bit of coming and

going between the two cottages, the little girls running in with food

to be put in the fridge.

Just after four they all piled into the Land Rover again, and drove out

of the camp on one of the dusty white roads with the heat shimmering

between the flat grassy plain and the pale blue sky.

"We'll go to one of the nearest waterholes," Jake said, "and sit and

wait."

They drew up beside a waterhole, and Marta produced colouring books and

crayons for the children. Alison, sitting in the front beside Jake,

was glad she had changed mto shorts and a cool cotton top. " ,

You need to have lots of patience, Alison, David said. "It isn't like

going to Edinburgh Zoo!"



It was Jake who saw the first animal.

"Giraffe," he said softly, and he put his arm around Alison and turned

her head towards some trees.

At first, Alison could see nothing. Then one of the branches of the

tree moved, and she saw the giraffe. It moved towards the waterhole,

slow and stately, and she found herself holding her breath. Then, at

the water, it spread its front legs wide so that it could reach the

water.

"I didn't know they drank like that," she whispered.

"Only way they can reach the water," Jake pointed out, his lips so

close to her ear that his breath tickled.

Soon after that some zebras appeared, the small ones jostling each

other, the bigger ones keeping order.

Then came a few small buck-springbok, Jake told them.

They had to leave then, because all cars had to be inside the gates of

the rest camp by the time the sun set.

"When do we go out again?" Alison asked when she and Jake were inside

their cottage.

"Tomorrow morning, early," he told her. "You like it?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "I've never done anything like this

before-there's something magical about sitting at a waterhole,

everything so quiet, waiting for the animals , and then watching

them."

The men got the fire going for their bra ai and Marta and Alison made a

salad.

And that, too, was magical, Alison thought the still, warm evening, the

flickering light of the fire, the glass of chilled wine.

The little girls only just managed to stay awake long enough to eat,

and then Marta put them to bed, Brigitte rubbing her eyes and

protesting that she wasn't sleepy.

"I want to stay with Alison," she insisted, for she had been sitting

beside Alison while they ate.

"I'm sleepy too, Brigitte," Alison told the little girl truthfully.

"I'll be going to bed soon."

It was the air, they decided a little later, when all four of them were

yawning. And they decided, too, not to go and sit at the rest camp

waterhole that night, waiting for animals to come.

"You can have first shower, Alison," Jake said lightly. "Give me a

shout when you're clear."

Some fifteen minutes later, when she came out onto the stoep, Alison

was glad she had brought a shortie cotton dressing gown with her, for



her shortie pyjamas were a little flimsy.

"Bathroom's clear, Jake," she said. "Goodnight , Marta- "night, David.

'

Her bed was narrow and not very long, and she wondered how Jake would

manage in his. She could hear him humming in the shower, and there was

something strange and a little disturbing about that.

Disturbing, too, was the thought of how she would deal with him, if it

was necessary, here in this small cottage.

I shall just be very firm and tell him to go back to his own room, she

decided.

The running water stopped.

"Night Alison," Jake called through the closed door. " And then,

laughter in his voice, he said, Remember, lock the door from the inside

when you're in here. Sleep well. '

"Goodnight," Alison called back, a little thrown by not having to put

her defence plan into action.

So-here she was, and there, in the cottage next door, were David and

Marta. She wondered, naturally, what their sleeping arrangements

were.

But very strangely, as she began to fall asleep, it wasn't David and

Marta she thought of-it was Jake Sheldon, in his room so near to

hers.

Everything was dark and completely still when she woke, with a start,

to find Jake sitting on the edge of her bed, his hands on her

shoulders. Instantly, she was awakq. " , p "

Oh, no, she said, and she sat u. Go back to our own room, Jake. '

His hand covered her mouth. "Once again, you're judging too quickly.

Listen," he whispered.

Alison heard it then. A distant roar. But not too distant, she

realised.

"What is it?" she asked, hardly daring to hope.

"A lion-and I think he's at the waterhole , Jake said. "Get a jersey

or something and come on hurry

Alison was glad of the darkness as she got out of bed in her

insubstantial shortie pyjamas and reached for tracksuit trousers and a

top.

Outside the cottage, Jake took her hand, and they hurried along the

path towards the floodlit waterhole. When they reached it, there were

some other people there too, standing beside the wall, looking and

waitmg.

"Look-there he is," Jake said.



Alison felt her breath catch in her throat.

The lion stood at the edge of the water, proud and regal. As they

watched, he drank, and the silence. was so complete that Alison could

hear him lapping the water. Then he lifted his head and roared, and it

was, for her, the sound of Africa.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there, watching the lion, but at

last, when he turned and walked majestically back into the darkness,

they went back to their cottage.

"What time is it?" she whispered.

"Just after three," Jake whispered back. "Let's have some coffee and

then a couple of hours' sleep before we get up."

The night was warm, so Alison thought it must be the excitement of

seeing the lion that made her feel a little shivery as she made them

both coffee. She cupped her hands around her own hot mug as she and

Jake sat at the small table.

"Nice," Jake said appreciatively.

"It's just instant," Alison replied.

"I don't mean the coffee," Jake said lazily. "I mean you-your hair a

little tousled, your tracksuit pulled on over rather attractive

pyjamas." He shrugged when Alison looked at him. "Couldn't help

catching a glimpse of them when I put the torch on, when you got out of

bed," he said disarmingly.

"More than the way you look, though, I'm glad we shared that

experience, seeing the lion together. Aren't you?" he added.

" ,

Yes, I am, Alison said after a moment, realising, as she said it, just

how true it was.

All at once they seemed to be on rather dangerous ground. She put her

cup down on the table and said hastily that she thought she'd go off to

bed.

Jake's hand covered hers on the table.

"Don't you think tonight has added a new dimension to our

relationship?" he said, laughter in his voice and in his dark blue

eyes.

Alison managed to pull her hand away. She stood up.

"We don't have a-a relationship, Jake," she said.

He stood up too.

"Tell me, then," he said softly, "just what is it we do have?"

She was very conscious of his nearness in the tiny cottage, and with

the silent African night enclosing them.



"I suppose we have a sort of physical attraction, that's all," she

replied, trying to keep her voice light and casual, and as amused as

his.

"A physical attraction," Jake repeated thoughtfully. "Yes, you could

certainly call it that. And you don't call that a relationship,

Alison?"

"You're laughing at me," she said, and with some reluctancq she had to

smile too. "No, Jake, I don't call that a relationship."

He sighed.

"Oh, well, we'll have to settle for this physical attraction ," he

murmured. "But I'm still glad we saw the lion together. '

For a moment, his lips brushed hers. It was a different kiss this

time, a kiss that was warm and light and tender , she found herself

thinking.

Perhaps Jake was right; perhaps there was a new dimension in whatever

there was between them.

CHAPTER EIGHT

TH ExE was so much about that time at Etosha that Alison knew she would

remember for all her life: getting up before sunrise, so that they

could go out of the gates as soon as they were opened, and the sight of

the red-streaked sky meeting the vast grassy plam. And one morning a

long, slow line of elephants making their way to a waterhole, crossing

the dusty white road a little way in front of the Land Rover. That was

so breathtaking that Alison forgot to get out her camera.

One night, at the waterhole, a family of black rhino, two big ones and

a baby. Buck of all kinds. Giraffes, zebras, and smaller animals,

jackals, funny little bat eared foxes, once a hyena. And every night a

group of elephants, six adults and five babies, the smallest two having

a wonderful mud-fight, splashing each other with mud from their

trunks.

Mealtimes were fun, too, with everyone helping, the men making a bra ai

one night, Marta a ri sotto another night.

And sharing the cottage with Jake was surprisingly free of problems. In

fact, Alison realised to her surprise , that was fun too, and she

became quite relaxed about seeing Jake coming out of his room with only

a towel wrapped around his lean brown body.

Very brown as far as the towel, she saw, and she caught herself

wondering how much more of him was as tanned as that. And blushed as

she thought it.

But the next day, when they went swimming, she could certainly see that

all of Jake that was visible was the same deep gold colour.

Marta had managed to get the little girls to lie down for a rest after

lunch, and she and David had stayed at the cottage with them. And

that, Alison found, was less painful than being with them, seeing them

together. More than once she found herself wishing that it were only

the two of them, Jake and herself, here, so that the magic of this



wonderful place wasn't marred at all by the hurt of seeing David with

Marta, with the little girls.

And that, she had to admit to herself with painful honesty, was

strange, when she was becoming more and more certain that somehow her

feelings for David had changed. Was it because of Cathy, then, that

she felt this way about David and Marta? Alison didn't know; all she

did know was that it hurt. ,

"Your shoulders are getting burned, Alison," Jake said. "I'll put more

sunscreen on for you."

His hands were big and strong as he smoothed the lotion into her

shoulders. The heat had made Alison drowsy, and she didn't make any

protest when Jake moved the shoulder straps of her bikini-top down over

her shoulders.

"You're going to have a mark on your back," he told her, and she could

feel his hands close to the fastening of her bra-top.

"I don't want any marks," Alison replied drowsily without lifting her

head. "Can you unfasten that , please?"

She thought there might be a funny remark from him, but he said

nothing, just unfastened her bikini-top and smoothed sunscreen where it

had been.

They lay in the sun beside the swimming pool for half an hour longer,

then Jake said, quite brusquely, that he thought they'd had enough

sun.

Without waiting to be asked, he fastened the top of

Alison's bikini and stood up, leaving Alison to scramble to her feet

without any help.

On the way back to their cottage she said, a little miffed, "I would

have liked to go on sunbathing for longer."

Jake looked down at her.

"You'd had long enough," he told her. "Don't ever underestimate the

African sun."

He took her hand in his then, and swung it as they walked.

"Anyway," he said, and his voice was warm with laughter, "I couldn't

have taken much more of lying beside you in the sun with your

bikini-top off."

"It wasn't off," Alison told him, colouring. "It was only unfastened.

'

"It would have been off if you had moved," Jake said. "Or if I had.

I'm not made of stone, you know."

"I didn't think you were," she returned demurely.

Their cottage was cool and dark, for they had closed the curtains to

keep the sun out. The feel of the cool floor on bare feet was lovely,



Alison thought.

"I suppose it's still too early to go out on a game drive?" she

said.

Jake nodded. "The animals are too sensible to come out when it's as

hot as this."

In the cool darkness, she knew that he was looking down at her. It

would be wiser to move away, she knew that, or even to say

something-anything.

But she said nothing, and she stood still.

It wasn't a conscious decision, although she was honest enough to admit

to herself later that she'd known very well what staying there close to

him meant. Because everything that had happened between Jake Sheldon

and herself until now had been leading up to this moment.

When he took her in his arms, when his lips found hers, when his hands,

warm and confident, unfastened the top of her bikini, the time for any

decision was gone. Every part of her body responded to the urgent

demand of his.

Later-much later-he looked down at her.

"I don't think these beds were made for two," he murmured.

She started to speak, but he put one finger on her lips.

"You are not going to say this shouldn't have happened," he told her

with authority. "Because it had to happen-I know that, and I think you

do too. And I don't really care whether we call it a relationship

or-what did you say?-a physical attraction. I wanted to make love to

you, and you wanted me to. So don't say it shouldn't have happened.

'

"I wasn't going to say that at all," Alison replied truthfully.

Andqthen, because she had to be honest, she said, with difficulty, "But

it confuses me-feeling like this-wanting this to happen."

"Confuses you?" Jake repeated thoughtfully. Gently, his finger traced

the outline of her cheek, and then her lips. "You mean it makes you

have doubts about this fellow you already have doubts about?" he asked

her. His voice was lazy, amused, but his dark blue eyes were intent on

her face.

"I don't have any doubts," Alison shot back, knowing all too well that

that wasn't true and knowing, at the same timP, that it was difficult

enough admitting this to herself, let alone to Jake, after what she had

said to him before.

"So he does," Jake said. "He's a very foolish man, then."

She turned her head away.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said.

"All right, we won't," Jake returned equably. "But if you don't want

to talk.. '



Alison wriggled as far away as she could in the narrow bed.

"I think we should be getting ready for going out in the Land Rover,"

she said quickly. "I hear Brigitte and Trudy outside. '

Neither David nor Marta made any comment when Jake and Alison joined

them a little later. Alison thought that. David's eyes were

questioning, but no more than that.

Once again, their game drive was wonderful, with Jake spotting a long

line of zebras in the distance, coming towards the waterhole they had

chosen. And following them came a small herd of wildebeest.

"They're pretending to be zebras too," Brigitte whispered , although

the animals were still far away.

"The zebras don't mind, anyway," her sister told her. "They share the

water."

The sharing was something that intrigued Alison. Although all the

animals approached any waterhole with caution, there seemed to be an

unwritten rule that each must have its turn.

That night, when the children were asleep, the four of them went to sit

at the floodlit waterhole at the gdge of the rest camp.

"Windhoek and the hospital seem part of a different Life," Alison said

softly. "But tomorrow we'll be back there. '

Jake's hand covered hers on the stone bench that overlooked the

waterhole.

"Etosha is always here," he told her. "Like Wordsworth's daffodils,

you'll be able to recall it all , and let this flash upon your inward

eye and fill your heart with pleasure!"

Alison was unable to hide her surprise.

"I'm not just a pretty face, you know," Jake said, and it was difficult

for her not to laugh aloud.

At last, reluctantly, they left the waterhole, when the nightly group

of elephants were the only animals there.

"I would have liked to see just one more lion," Alison said

regretfully.




"Perhaps we might, as we drive out," Marta pointed out.

When they reached their adjoining cottages, they parted. Marta had

their key ready, and while Jake was unlocking the other door Alison

turned round to reply to Marta's whispered goodnight.

But the word died on her lips.

David had put his arm around Marta'sshoulder as he pushed the door

open. And in the light from the open dooqway there was no mistaking

the way he was looking at her.

Alison stood silent, any doubts she had had about David and Marta gone.

When she felt Jake's hand on her arm she turned to face him, hearing,

as she did so, the door of the other cottage close.

He looked down at her, and she saw slow understanding dawn on his

face.

"It's David," he said flatly. "David's the man you're in love with."

Alison wanted to say that no, she wasn't in love with David any longer,

but it wasn't as simple as that. So she said nothing.

It had never crossed Jake's mind, until that moment, that it could be

David.

He had assumed that Alison had left this man in Scotland, perhaps that

she had come here to forget him. And all the time it had been David.

He remembered, then, feeling that strange and somehow treacherous pity

for her, thinking she was upset because David had forgotten her sister

Cathy and turned to Marta.

And I told her, he thought bleakly, that she had to let David forget

Cathy and get on with his own life.

He closed the door of the cottage behind them.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked her.

She shrugged. "Why should I?" she countered. "Jake, I=

She seemed to be on the point of saying something more, then she shook

her head, and there was something so bewildered, so-forlorn about her

that for a moment he needed to make a conscious effort to recall that

surge of anger he had felt.

She was right, he realised. Why should she, indeed, when in her eyes

this wasn't a relationship, only a passing physical attraction? And,

of course, that was all he was looking for as well, so he shouldn't

mind that. He certainly wasn't looking for anything more, for anything

that held the possibility of being hurt, the way he had been hurt by

Sharon.

He looked down at Alison, and once he felt that same bewildering surge

of-pity? Tenderness? He didn't know.

"Alison, my dear," he said, and he put his arms around her, feeling her



slim shoulders rigid against him, "you came all this way because of

David, only to find he's in love with Marta."

Her shoulders were still rigid.

"He thinks he's in love with Marta," she said after a moment.

"And you think differently?" Jake asked.

Once again, she shrugged.

"He was lonely-Marta was there; it's understandable ," she said. "But

Jake, it isn'tAnd once again, as she had before, she stopped.

For her own sake, he had to make her face the truth.

"Perhaps that's how it started," he agreed carefully, "but you must see

that it's much more than that now. I know it's tough for you, but you

have to accept it."

Alison turned away from him.

"They come from different backgrounds," she said, not quite steadily.

"They don't really have much in common. And there are the children.

Cathy and David didn't plan on having children for quite a while."

"All that may be true," Jake agreed, "but you're leaving out one thing.

It may sound strange, coming from me, but those two are in love with

each other; anyone can see that. And that changes everything. Allson,

David has made a new life for himself; you have to accept that. Now

come on; it's late-let's go to bed."

"A good idea," Alison replied, and the coolness of her voice told him

all too clearly that it didn't matter what he had meant-she certainly

didn't mean together.

It was strange, he thought later, lying unsleeping in his narrow bed,

that Alison could be so stubborn, so determined to hold onto this

unreal feeling she called love for the man who had been going to marry

her sister. Strange, too that that Alison was the same one as the warm

and passionatq_ girl he had held in his arms in this very bed.

But the next morning, when he saw the shadows under Alison's grey eyes,

the hint of red that told him of tears, he couldn't feel angry with

her. It was tough for her; there was no getting away from that.

"Chin up," he said, and he was rewarded with a rather watery smile.

It was a quieter journey back to Windhoek, with the children both

sleeping for a good part of the way, Marta then falling asleep, and

then Alison. Jake wondered how much sleep she had had the previous

night.

He dropped David and Marta and the children at Marta's house, where

David's car was, and then took Alison back to her flat.

"I can manage everything, thanks," she said when he stopped in the

street.

"I'm not coming in to overcome your scruples and throw you on the bed,"



Jake said mildly. "I just want to help. you carry everything, and

check that everything is all rlght at the flat."

It was worth that, he thought, to see the colour rise in her cheeks.

"Sorry, Jake," she murmured more than a little awkwardly.

In the flat, she turned to him when he had carried her basket and

Thermos into the kitchen.

"Thank you for taking me to Etosha," she said, and he was glad to see

that the sleep in the Land Rover had taken the shadows from her grey

eyes and left them clear again. "It's an experience I'll never

forget."

It wasn't the time for levity, he knew.

"I hoped it would be special to you," he said. "It certainly is to me.

Dinner tomorrow night?" He kept his voice casual. "Or later in the

week"?" And then , seeing the question in her eyes, he said lightly,

"My dear girl, we have fun together, don't we?"

He kissed her, his lipc brushing hers for only a moment.

"Anyway," he said, "I plan on making you forget him ! '

And he was taken aback to realise just how much he meant that. All

right, she was different, this girl, but he wasn't about to forget his

own ground rules, for her or for anyone else... A few days after the

Etosha weekend, Mrs. Kayapua was allowed to go home.

She was beginning to walk with her temporary prosthesis , using

crutches now, and in a few months her permanent prosthesis would be

fitted.

"I will come and see you, Sister, when I am with Mrs. Grellman for

phsyiotherapy," she said when. her husband and her daughter came to

take her home.

"You feel you can handle being at home?" Alison asked her, and the

older woman nodded.

"I can do it," she said steadily. "You helped me to bring these fears

into the open, and to deal with them.

Now I know I can get up again if I fall, I know what to do if my wound

bleeds, and if I need help I have i this telephone that I will carry

with me."

She patted Alison's hand. "

I am going to dress, now, Sister," she said, "and I will come in to say

goodbye."

A little later, Alison looked up from the charts she was filling in

when Mrs. Kayapua knocked at the door.

There was an unexpected touch of mischief in her smile.

"Since he became an important man in the government ," she said, "my



husband has wanted me to stop wearing our traditional dress. Now he

agrees that it is better for me to be dressed like this."

The skirt of her Victorian dress was wide and vividly coloured, in

scarlet and blue and emerald. Her deep fringed shawl was a darker

blue, and her headscarf matched her dress.

"I think you look wonderful, Mrs. Kayapua," Alison said sincerely.

"I'm really going to miss you-you've been a star patient. ,

She watched as Mrs. Kayapua made her slow and dignified way along the

corridor to the lift her husband on one side of her, her daughter on

the other.

The two young accident patients were coming on well, Jake's surgery and

subsequent post-operative measures for the younger boy having avoided

the brain damage they had feared. The older boy was recovering well

after his fractured femur, and Alison and her staff made sure he moved

as much as possible even in the bed, encouraging him to help when they

turned him by grasping the bedrails for support.

"The active motion decreases the possibility of so many complications,"

Alisonexplained to her staff ; nurse. "Thromboembolism, pneumonia,

gastrointestinal problems, urinary problems-no, he's coming on well

physically. But..."

"But you're not entirely happy about him," Heidi Muller said.

"No, I'm not," Alison admitted. "I think Richard is carrying a load of

guilt about the accident which is right, because it was his fault,

particularly as young Bill wasn't wearing a crash helmet. We've told

Rlchard that Bill is going to be all right, but I'm not too sure he

believes us."

She came to a decision.

"I'm going to move young Bill into the four-bed ward beside Richard,"

she said. "Bill doesn't need to be on his own now, and I think it with

help Richard to see for himself that his brother is doing all right."

She and Heidi and the nursing aide moved the beds, pushing an excited

young. Bill along the corridor, and putting his bed next to hIs

brother.

"Qulte a bandage on your head," Richard said, trying to be casual.

"Pretty good plaster you have," Bill returned.

Alison checked that they were both comfortable, eased the weights on

Richard's leg, and then left them.

"That was a great idea, Sister," Jake said when he came in later to see

both the boys. "Hasn't done Richard any harm to worry a bit about his

brother, but it's time now for him to put it behind him. As long as

he's learned his lesson."

"I'm sure he has," Alison said.

He looked at the notes on her desk. "I see you're ready for my

elective varicose vein op tomorrow," he said. "He's Down's



syndrome."

"I see that," Alison said. "He'll probably want to help around the

ward-the last Down's patient I had would have given all the other

patients tea every hour on the hour if I'd let her. I'll see that your

pat lent has some jobs to do, Dr. Sheldon."

"Thank you, Sister Maynard," Jake said gravely. "I knew I could rely

on you."

When he had gone, Alison put her pen down on the desk. It was strange

now, she thought, to remember her first impression of Jake

Sheldon-arrogant, overconfident , just the sort of doctor she loved to

hate. She'd had to change her opinion of him as a doctor pretty

quickly, and she had changed her private opinion of him too, now that

she had got to know him.

He is a great deal more thoughtful and understanding than he would have

people think, she told herself.

But still, of course, not to be taken seriously.

Not that she had any intention of taking him seriously , she reminded

herself hastily. It was the last thing he would want, he had made that

very clear.

And, of course, the last thing she would want. Knowing she felt

differently about David was one thing, but allowing herself to mistake

a-a passing physical attraction for anything more-that was something

she certainly wasn't about to do!

CHAPTER NINE

JAxE had said "we have fun together', and that was true. But when

Alison was with him, when they went dancing, when they were close

together in the darkness of the car at the end of an evening together,

she had to make a very determined effort not to allow herself to be

swept away by the way she knew she could so easily feel in his arms.

That warm afternoon in Etosha, when they had made love, had meant more,

much more than she would ever have thought possible. That she could be

in his arms, and thinking of nothing and no one in the world but him,

carried away on this tide of passion engulfing them both-it was

foolish, with a man like Jake Sheldon, a man so openly determined to

enjoy himself and yet to keep his freedom.

She told herself, many times, that there was this undoubted strong

physical attraction between them; she would be foolish to deny that.

Add to that her own vulnerability, here in this foreign country, with

the shock and the dismay of finding that David was-or thought he was-in

love with someone else, and, soberly, sensibly, she realised that there

was a very real danger of some rebound effect, of falling into the arms

of-of someone like Jake.

Perhaps it wasn't a bad thing thatqhe thought she was still in love

with David. Because without even allowing herself to put the thought

into words she knew that she dared not allow herself to be swept away

like that again.

So, when Jake kissed her goodnight, when his lips and his arms became



more urgent, more demanding, Alison would return his kiss, return his

embrace, but somehow she would manage to hold back, to stop there.

He never said anything, and eventually he would release her. And often

she didn't know whether she was relieved or disappointed. But

sometimes she would find his dark blue eyes resting on her, thoughtful,

questioning , and she would feel uncomfortable.

She told herself that since he seemed to be content to go on as they

were, since he had made it very clear that he wasn't looking for

anything long-term, there was no reason for her to feel this way; she

should just accept things as they were.

They got into the habit, she and Jake, of meeting to take Shandy for a

walk when their hours off coincided. Jake had found a small

second-hand estate car for her, and this made a great difference to her

independence. Jake and Shandy had favourite walks, and she would meet

them sometimes on the hill beyond the three castles.

There were houses built high on the small hills there-the koppies,

Alison was learning to call them large and beautiful houses, many of

them foreign embassies. Jake and Alison, with the big golden dog

walking sedately beside them, would walk up beyond the houses, beyond

the foreign flags flying at the different embassies, to the open

hillside above them. As soon as they had passed the last house, Shandy

would look up at Jake intently.

"Go, Shandy," Jake would say, and a blur of gold would run ahead of

therrq. Sometimes there would be a ground-squirrel-a meerkat, here-and

Shandy would have an enjoyable but unsuccessful chase.

"When I was a boy," Jake said one day as they sat with their backs

against a warm rock, the exhausted dog at their feet, "there were no

houses here. We came here with our dogs then, but we were able to walk

right down there."

He put his arm round her and pointed down the hill. His arm, strong

and muscular as it was, felt much nicer than the rock had, so Alison

didn't move away.

"There were baboons then," he said, "big troops of them, in the

koppies. We used to hear them coughing and barking, and of course we

kept our distance. But once, when I was quite small, I was here with

my mother, and our dogs chased the baboons. We could hear the dogs,

and the baboons, closer and closer to each other, and we were sure it

would be the end of our dogs."

"He smiled, and there was a far-away look in his , eyes, a look she

hadn t seen before, which made her see, for a moment, the boy he had

been. A look that brought a strange tightness to her throat, for some

reason. "My mother had an old Volkswagen then, and she drove it right

up that koppie there-there was nothing more than a path-hooting

furiously and shouting. Our dogs came running back, and got into the

car as if they had sent for a taxi. But they never chased baboons

again."

It was very pleasant, sitting here in the sun after their walk.

Somehow, Alison realised, her head was now resting on Jake's

shoulder.



"She must be quite a lady, your mother," she murmured.

"She is," Jake replied. "You'd get on well together , you two. '

She didn't answer that because it seemed better not to.

Jake lifted a strand of her hair; it blew a little in the warm wind.

"I was looking at a picture of your sister the other night, in your

flat," he said unexpectedly. "You're quite like her, aren't you?

Especially with your hair like that, the way Cathy's was. But in the

photo of the two of you together... your hair was different then; and

you and Cathy didn't look as alike."

Alison sat up and moved away a little.

"We always were alike," she said, knowing she sounded defensive.

"Everyone always knew we were sisters."

That night, back in her flat, alone, she looked at herself in the

mirror. The girl who looked back at her had serious grey eyes, her

light brown hair falling thick and smooth to her shoulders.

She turned away from the mirror and looked at the picture Jake has been

talking about-the picture of Cathy. Oh, there were differences-Cathy

had their mother's blue eyes, and the shape of their faces was a little

different-but with her hair worn the same as Cathy's-yes, she thought,

soberly, she did look like her.

She couldn't remember, now, making any conscious decision to grow her

hair, and she certainly had never set out to look like Cathy. To come

here looking like Cathy, she amended painfully.

It was a strange and disturbing thought, and she didn't know whether

she felt angry with Jake for making her think it or grateful to him.

But the next day she went to have her hair cut.

When it was done, and she looked at the smooth shining cap, the thick

fringe, she was a little taken aback. She hadn't ever had her hair

quite as short, but it was too late now to have doubts.

"I like it," Jake said with certainty when he came into the duty room

the next day. He was seldom less than professional when they were on

duty, but he leaned towards her now, laughter in his dark blue eyes,

and murmured, "I did like running my hands through your hair before, I

must say, but I can't help feeling that letting your hair go must be

even more drastic than letting your hair down! I can't wait to find

out."

"You are incorrigible, Jake Sheldon," Alison retorted, but she couldn't

help smiling as she said it.

It was the next day before she saw David. Although he seldom had

patients in her ward, most days she saw him around the clinic, but

usually either he or she would be hurrying.

But that day they met just outside the staff dining room.

"Alison-Marta and I were just saying we've hardly seen you since our



Etosha trip," David said, sounding pleased to see her. "Are you on

your way in for lunch? It's late."

"I know," Alison replied. "We had an unexpected admission; I wanted to

see that he was comfortable."

There was no queue at the counter at this time.

"Was that Jake's peritonitis?" David asked, and Alison said that it

was.

They chose their food-Alison opted for cold chicken and salad, David

for Kasseler chops, also with salad.

"I was in the theatre next door," he said as they sat down at a small

table. "Hysterectomy. Total abdominal."

He looked at her. "You've had your hair cut," he said, surprised, then

looked more closely. "Makes you look about sixteen," he said. He

smiled, but there was a shadow in his hazel eyes. "That must be just

what you were when I knew you first."

"It was," Alison replied. "Cathy had just started nursing -I was still

at school. She brought you home soon after you met-it was her

nineteenth birthday. Remember?"

"I remember," David said, his voice low.

He put his fork and knife down. "Alison," he said carefully, "perhaps

this is something I should have said sooner than this..."

Alison waited, not knowing what he was going to say.

"I loved Cathy," he went on, "and I wanted nothing more than to spend

the rest of my life with her. But Cathy is dead, and

He hesitated.

"And now there's Marta," Alison said, and her voice was steady. "Does

she know about Cathy, David?"

"Oh, yes," he replied, surprised. "I told her soon after we met." He

leaned across the table. "We were friends, Marta and I, for quite a

while before I knew that I loved her." He smiled. "I think she knew

quite a while before I did."

And while you were falling in love with Marta, Alison thought, I was

back home in Scotland, waiting for you to come back to me, waiting for

you to realise that if anyone in the world was to take Cathy's place it

had to be me!

She wasn't sure, afterwards, what made her say what she did. She hoped

that it was a real concern for David, but... "David," she said slowly,

"Marta's little girls are delightful, but isn't it a problem to you,

taking them on? Someone else's children-children with a different

background?"

He looked away.

"It shouldn't be a problem," he said at last. "I love Marta; I have no



doubts about that. But-yes, Alison, the package deal of Marta complete

with the children is something I haven't completely been able to commit

myself to yet."

His eyes were troubled. "Marta senses that, although I haven't said it

in so many words," he said. "I couldn't say it to anyone but you, I

don't think-right from that first time Cathy took me home you've been

like a real sister to me."

Once that would have hurt. Now she could accept it.

She put her hand on his. "Don't do anything in a hurry, David," she

said quietly. "Give yourself time you owe it to Marta, as well as to

yourself. And to the children. You have to be sure about something as

important as this."

And that is true, she told herself when David's bleeper summoned him to

see his patient in Intensive Care. I didn't say anything that wasn't

completely valid.

She forced herself to ignore the faint sense of unease that came with

the memory of what she had said, of the troubled look in David's

eyes.

Jake was pleased with the progress his varicose-vein patient was

making.

He had done a ligatioh under general anaesthetic, and at the same time

he had treated the smaller veins by injecting a chemical into the

vein.

"He'll have to have the elastic stocking on all the , time, he told

Alison, knowing that the reminder wasn't really necessary. "Every time

you change the dressing on the ligation, put a final dressing on the

small veins, gauze cotton and then Velcro, to apply pressure, then the

elastic stocking. And keep him walking."

"No problem with that, Dr. Sheldon," Alison assured him. "Look-he's

helping Staff to hand out tea to the other patients, and if he gets a

chance first thing, when the ward is being cleaned, he likes to help to

wash the floor. '

"It doesn't bother you, him doing that?" Jake asked cautiously, for it

wouldn't be the first time a senior sister had objected to a mentally

retarded patient's attitude to the usual ward regulations.

"Not at all," Alison replied, and he could see that she meant it.




"Tommy is a dear, and I know he feels less anxious and less awkward

when he's allowed to help. It makes him feel more at home here,

too."

Her smooth cap of hair shone in the sunlight streaming in the window,

and Jake had a sudden and most unprofessional longing to reach out and

touch it.

A longing he hastily suppressed.

"I've noticed, Sister," he said then "that you also have a fairly open

attitude to visiting times."

Alison coloured.

"I've cleared that with Matron," she told him. "I do find it makes a

difference to my patients' recovery if their families are allowed to

come more freely than just in visiting hours. It's sometimes difficult

for people to be free at the arbitrary hours we set, you know."

Y, , ,

"He I m on your side; I feel the same, Jake assured her. Every new

facet of their-friendship, relationship, whatever-made him realise that

he hadn't, in all the girls he'd known since Sharon, come across one

quite llke Alison. And that, he thought ruefully, took in quite a

number of girls.

Perhaps I just needed to find the right girl, and to learn to trust

again, he thought one day, out of the blue, and to his astonishment the

thought, instead of dismaying him, didn't seem at all unpleasant.

There was, of course, the small matter of Alison being absolutely

certain of two things. One, that she was in love with David Reid, and

two-following on from that-that therefore anything she felt for him was

physical, nothing more.

"Chemistry', she had even said once.

But I wasn't joking when I said I planned on making her forget him,

Jake thought with certainty.

One night, when he had kissed her goodnight very thoroughly, and felt

her lips warm and responsive against his, but nothing like as warm and

responsive " as he knew they could be, he said to her, One thing

I'd like to know, Alison-when David kissed you... and that must be

quite some time ago... did you feel anything like this?"

A slow tide of colour suffused her cheeks and she looked away.

"He hasn't kissed you," Jake said, and it wasn't a question. "Other

than a brotherly peck on the cheek. Oh, Alison."

"I don't want to talk about how I feel about him , she said quickly,

defensively.

Jake raised his eyebrows.

"I still say you need something more basic-more physical, if you



like-than that." He looked down at her. "Something you and I have."

And suddenly, with no warning, that strange and treacherous feeling

came over him as she looked up at him, her clear grey eyes troubled. He

put his arms around her gently and held her close to him.

"Sorry," he murmured, against her hair. "Let's forget it-for now. '

But Alison couldn't help feeling troubled about Jake. He reverted,

after that, to his usual casual and carefree self, taking her out for

dinner, for dancing, for walks with the dog-kissing her, holding her

close, sometimes pushing his luck, but accepting the limits Alison

set.

And yet-and yet sometimes she would find him looking at her with

something new in his dark blue eyes, something new and disturbing.

Working with him, though, was something she could enjoy with no

reservations. She knew that he was a good and caring doctor, and she

knew that he valued her work and her opinion too, and that pleased

her.

And so she wasn't too surprised when Matron summoned her and told her

that Dr. Sheldon had asked for her help on a special case.

"But not in the clinic, Sister Maynard," Matron informed her. "Dr.

Sheldon can tell you about it him , self-Ah, here you are, Dr. Sheldon,

she said as Jake hurried in, with a quick knock on the half-open door.

"You can tell Sister Maynard about this trip."

"Trip?" Alison asked when Matron had gone out, leaving them alone in

her office.

Jake nodded.

"We have an emergency call to Luderitz," he told her. "We're going to

see Mrs. Barton, the wife of one of the directors of a big fishing

company. They're sending a private plane for us." He looked at his

watch. "You have two hours to get ready-I'll pick you up. Take enough

for a couple of days."

"Do I go in uniform?" Alison asked, more than a little dazed.


"Has this Mrs. Barton had an accident?" she said then.

Jake hesitated.

"She has a fractured femur," he told her. "It's been X-rayed at L de

ritz Hospital."

"A fractured femur?" Alison repeated, taken aback. "But surely-?"

She broke off.

"I know," Jake agreed. "A fractured femur shouldn't need a doctor and

a nurse flown from Windhoek. But Ted Barton is on our board-he

matters. He wants me there, with a nurse, and what he wants he gets.

There's more to it than that, though-I'll tell you on the plane. '



The next two hours were a whirl of activity for Alison. She handed

over her ward to the relief sister then hurried back to her flat,

changed into jeans and a cotton shirt, threw some clothes into an

overnight bag, locked up her flat, and was waiting for Jake when he

arrived.

It was the small local airport they went to, not the international one

Alison had arrived at, and in no time, it seemed, Jake had parked his

Land Rover and was hurrying her across to the small plane that was

waiting for them, the engine already revving.

A very small plane, Alison thought, more than a little dismayed at the

thought of flying over miles of desert in it.

Jake climbed up the steps ahead of her and held out his hand. "It's

all right," he said. "I'll be right beside you. '

It was ridiculous and it was foolish, but somehow his words, and the

strong warmth of his hand on hers, made all the difference in the world

to her.

She followed him into the plane.

CHAPTER TEN

Ir was impossible to talk until the small plane had taken off and was

heading away from Windhoek.

"It's not really the fractured femur," Jake said. "It's what led up to

it. In actual fact she tripped, or lost her balance-she doesn't seem

too sure what happened But over the last few weeks there have been some

strange episodes. Mrs. Barton was found in the library, confused, not

sure where she was. Someone took her home, and she was all right by

the next day. She's been reluctant to drive, and her husband thinks

she's having problems with vision. She's not a forgetful person, but

she's missed turning up at a couple of meetings. '

Alison looked at him. "But she needs tests done in hospital," she

said. "A scan-motor function tests. What can you and I do?"

"I don't know," Jake admitted. "I'm not sure what the real problem is.

I don't mean the medical problem, I mean about doing things as they

ought to be done." He frowned. "It isn't like Ted. I'd have thought

he would have whisked Betty to the clinic right away, or even to Cape

Town."

He told her that Ted Barton and his wife were old friends of his

parents, and he had known them all his life.

A little later, pointing to the desert below them, he told her that

there, in the Sperrgebiet, the forbidden diamond territory, were the

only wild desert-dwelling horses in the world.

"I saw them for the first time when I was about ten years old, when we

were coming to Luderitz to spend a holiday with the Bartons," he said.

"We saw about twenty of them, and there are only about a hundred and

fifty in total. I've seen them only twice since then, and I've been

lucky-people can live here for years and never see them."



They landed at the small airfield outside Luderitz soon after that, and

a big white-haired man came forward to greet them. He and Jake were

obviously glad to see each other.

"Sister Maynard-Alison, I believe. All right if we skip the Sister?"

Ted Barton said, shaking her hand. "You get a good view of Luderitz as

you landed?"

"Yes, we did," Alison replied.

"Did Jake tell you what they say? Luderitz is surrounded by the desert

on three sides and bombarded by the Atlantic Ocean on the fourth."

He hustled them into his Land Rover and drove off towards the town,

brushing aside Jake's enquiry about his wife with a brusque, "We'll

talk later," and instead pointing out to Alison the big security gates

leading into the diamond area, and the ghost town of Kolmanskop , the

site of the first serious diamond rush in what was then South-West

Africa.

Alison had a swift, blurred impression of deserted houses, with the

desert sand piled up against the walls, as Ted Barton turned another

corner, to reveal the small town lying ahead of them. It had

German-style buildings, a beautiful blue house high on the hill, and a

church that was almost Gothic.

Ted Barton's own house stood high on the hill, overlooking the harbour.

He led them inside, rang the bell, and ordered coffee from the pleasant

woman who came into the big room.

Only when they were sitting down with coffee and biscuits did he

suddenly seem to lose his cheerful brusqueness and look older, and very

weary.

"Betty's in hospital," he said abruptly. "She's

, desperate to be allowed out, to come home, but she's in plaster and

in traction, so fortunately there's no question of that at the moment."

""Fortunately", Ted?" Jake queried.

The older man nodded.

"I hope that we can take her straight from there to either Windhoek or

Cape Town, depending on what you think's best," he said. "I know she

has to have tests done-she knows it too, but she won't admit it; she

says she's fine-she was just tired, or she just slipped, or she

forgot."

He ran his hand through his thick white hair.

"All right, she can't do much about resisting. I could ask the doctor

to sedate her and just have her taken there, let her wake up in Groote

Schuur or somewhere else. But I can't do that to Betty, Jake. That's

why I need your help to persuade her to have tests done."

He put his cup down on the coffee-table and looked directly at

Alison.

"And I thought if that didn't work, then perhaps you could get through

to her, Alison. I've heard so much about you from Jake-that's why I



asked if you could come too."

Alison didn't think she had ever before seen Jake looked embarrassed,

but he did now.

"A couple of weeks ago, when I was in Windhoek, Jake and I went out for

a steak, and he talked about you most of the time," Ted Barton went

on.

Jake stood up.

"I think we should see Betty as soon as possible, Ted," he said, and

Alison was amused to see that he wouldn't meet her enquiring gaze.

Ted Barton nodded.

"Leave your bags there," he said. "Maria will take them to your rooms.

You're staying here with me, of course. '

The hospital was at the other side of the bay, and from the window of

Betty Barton's room there was a lovely view of the little town,

clinging to the rocky hillside, with the blue waters of the bay

between.

"Jake," the woman in the bed said as he bent to kiss her. "This is

nonsense, bringing you all the way here. I'd be fine if they would

just let me go home."

"Not too easy with a contraption like this," Jake commented lightly.

"Betty, this is Alison."

Betty Barton held out her hand and Alison took it.

"My dear," she said, "this is all ridiculous, but I'm glad to meet

you."

As she asked Jake about his parents, and his sister and her children,

Alison looked at her carefully and unobtrusively. Betty Barton, like

her husband, was in her late sixties, she thought. Her hair, too, was

white, but curled softly around her face. She had blue eyes eyes that

even when she was smiling were anxious. And there were lines of strain

around her mouth.

"Now that you have got us here," Jake said now, "tell me more about

some of the things that Ted is worrying about. That day in the

library, now-what do you remember about it?"

The woman in the bed laughed, but all three of the others recognised

the effort she had to make to do that.

"For goodness' sake," she said, "it was nothing-a bit of

absent-mindedness, that's all. I'd had this awful flu-I think I was a

bit light-headed."

"That was a fortnight before, Betty," her husband put in.

Jake took both of her hands in his.

"For Ted's sake, Betty," he said, quite gently, "Let's have some tests

done. He's worried about you, and he won't stop worrying until you've



taken this further.

"The tests I'd like you to have-they're not painful , and they're not

invasive. Remember the bone-density test you had done a couple of

years ago, when we wanted to check for osteoporosis? That didn't

hurt.

And this is similar-bouncing sound waves around, scanning to make sure

there aren't any problems."

He smiled. "What's the point of Ted having a private plane if you

can't make use of it? You could be flown to Cape Town tomorrow and be

back in a few days plaster and all!"

Betty Barton pulled her hands away.

"I won't have tests done," she said, and her voice was shaking. "It's

nothing-I was tired, that's all."

She turned away from her visitor and reached for the bell. "And I'm

tired now; I want to rest."

There was nothing more they could do. Ted Barton kissed his wife and

said he'd come back in the evening to see her.

Back at the beautiful big house on the rocky hillside they had

dinner-grilled fish that Ted Barton assured them had been swimming in

the bay that morning and then Ted went back to visit his wife again.

Jake and Alison sat over coffee, talking about what they knew should be

done.

"She has to have a scan done," Jake said. His dark blue eyes were

serious. "You know as well as I do the possibilities. '

Alison did. Betty Barton could have had a mild ; stroke, she could

have an abscess on the brain, she could have a tumour. A tumour could

be benign, or it could be malignant. In either case, it had to be

removed.

"There's a new machine at one of the city clinics in

Cape Town," Jake told her. "It's more sophisticated than the CT scan.

That's what I'd like Betty to have.

And there's a very good man there; he's the one she should see.

Obviously, we want to get her to agree, but if we can't I'm inclined to

get Ted to sign the consent form and take her there anyway. I don't

like the idea, but I have this feeling that it's urgent." ; He tried

to smile. "Ever get those feelings, Alison?

In spite of modern technology, sometimes you have to doctor by the seat

of your pants, so my Dad says."

"I know what you mean," Alison agreed. "I have had feelings like that

myself. And I do agree that Mrs. Barton must have tests done, but She

hesitated. "Mr. Barton suggested that perhaps I could persuade

her-perhaps I could try talking to her tomorrow? Unless he comes back

and says she's changed her mind, of course. '



But Ted came back soon after that to say that his wife refused to

consider having any tests done.

The next morning, Jake took Alison over to the hospital, but let her go

in on her own. Mrs. Barton seemed pleased to see her, but was very

guarded.

"I suppose Ted's sent you to try to persuade me , she said at last

abruptly.

There was no point in denying that. And there was no point, either, in

going over the ground they had gone over the day before.

Alison took a shot in the dark.

"Mrs. Barton," she said quietly, "are you afraid of what this scan

will find? A tumour, perhaps, that is malignant?"

She thought that the woman in the bed wasn't going to answer, that she

might just turn away. But at last, with a small sigh, Betty Barton

gave in.

"No, I'm not afraid of a scan finding a tumour," she said, and her

voice was little more than a whisper. "I could handle that, even if it

was malignant. It's if they don't find anything-that's what I'm really

afraid of."

Alison looked at her, not understanding.

"My mother died five years ago," Betty said quietly. "But for ten

years before she died she didn't know me , she didn't know Ted, she

didn't even know who she was. In the last few years she was

incontinent; she couldn't feed herself or dress herself. She had

Alzheimer's."

Now Alison understood. She put her hand over Betty Barton's tightly

clasped hands.

"And you're afraid that what has happened to you could be the start of

that," she said, and it wasn't a question.

The older woman nodded.

"If it is, I-I just don't want to know," she said shakily. "If they

don't find anything else, any other explanation, that's what it must

be, and I can't face that." Her eyes searched Alison's face. "It's

not impossible , is it?" she asked.

"No, it isn't impossible," Alison replied slowly, honestly It did seem

to her, from her previous experience, that a tumour or an abscess was

more likely, but she knew that she didn't have the authority to say

that, to raise any hopes that might be false.

"But if it is there are new drugs being tested all the time that can

make a difference to Alzheimer's. You owe it to yourself, and you owe

it to Ted, to find out. I was looking at the photographs of your

grandchildren last night. You owe it to them, perhaps, most of all.

'

Betty Barton began to cry, soundlessly, tears running down her cheeks.



Gently, Alison dried the tears.

"Tell Ted I'll have the tests done," she said at last. "As soon as

possible."

Alison went back right away, knowing that Ted Barton would want to make

arrangements immediately He was at his office, but Jake phoned him

there, and within ten minutes he was back. Alison told him what his

wife's real fears were, and he was silent for a long time before he

said, quietly, that he should have realised what they were for himself.

Then, obviously forcing himself to pull himself together, he stood up.

He and Jake went into his study to make all the arrangements, and they

were on the telephone for half an hour.

When Jake finally came out, Alison came in from the stoep, where she

had been sitting.

"It's all arranged," Jake told her. "Ted is taking her to Cape Town

this afternoon; we've got her in at the city clinic I wanted. They do

have this machine at Groote Schuur too, but they couldn't take her

immediately And I've talked to Adam Steyn; he's the best neurology man

in Cape Town. Ted has arranged for one of the nurses from the hospital

here to go with them. '

Ted Barton followed Jake out.

"Later, my girl, I'll tell you just how grateful I am to you," he said

gruffly. "For now, let's get things moving. I'm going over to the

hospital now to tell Betty what's happening. We'll be on our way to

Cape Town as soon as possible."

Alison looked at Jake, and she could see that he had the same question

as she did.

"We have to get back to the clinic, Ted," he said. "Should we try to

get on a commercial flight?"

Ted Barton shook his head. "No need," he replied. "I've just cleared

it with the clinic. Tomorrow afternoon my pilot will get back here and

take you to Windhoek. So you have this afternoon and tomorrow morning

to show Alison the sights of Luderitz! At the very least take her out

to Kolmanskop."

He left then, and they heard his Land Rover roar into life.

"I hope that's all right," Alison said doubtfully. "Only getting back

tomorrow, I mean."




Jake took both of her hands in his.

"If Ted has cleared it with the clinic, you can take it there's no

problem," he assured her. "And now that we know Betty is going to be

in the best possible hands we're going to do just what Ted suggested

and go to Kolmanskop. '

There was a small four-wheel-drive Jeep left for them to use, and they

headed out of the small town and into the desert.

It was like a mirage, Alison found herself thinking, this desert ghost

town. Deserted houses, without windows, some with broken steps leading

up to the broad stoeps, some with roofs caved in. And sand sifting

through all of them, blown up against the walls, " piled up on the

floors inside, in one house reaching halfway up the staircase leading

to the bedrooms. "But they lived well, didn't they?" she said softly,

feeling somehow that she almost had to whisper, as they walked through

the big building called the Casino, where the diamond seekers had come

to relax, to eat meals cooked by German chefs, to see shows put on by

entertainers brought in from Europe.

"They had to, with the desert all around them," Jake said. "And they

could afford to. The early prospectors could pick diamonds up from the

sand-there are photographs in the little museum over there of men

crawling about picking up diamonds. They made and lost fortunes

overnight."

They came out of the Casino, and Alison looked again at the modest

little house, most of it submerged in sand, behind it.

"I think I like the schoolteacher's house best," she said. "It's

small, and you can imagine someone living there. I wonder where the

children she taught are now?"

Jake looked down at her.

"It does that to you, doesn't it?" he agreed. "Makes the people who

lived here very real. Even if they do call this a ghost town."

They spent most of the afternoon in Kolmanskop, and when they left Jake

told her he was taking her out for dinner. , g, p

It wasn t easy, Alison thou ht to kee herself from thinking about Betty

Barton, wondering about the flight to Cape Town, wondering what the

results of the scan would be. Sometimes, too, she would glance at Jake

and see that his blue eyes were shadowed and his face still.

But Ted Barton phoned at six and told them that the flight had gone

well, Betty was safely installed in her room at the private clinic, Dr.

Steyn had already been to see her, and the scan and other tests would

be done the following morning.

"I think she's relieved, now, that this is happening," he said.

"You'll let us know what the results are, Ted?" Jake asked, and the

older man assured him that he would.

All Alison had brought with her were jeans and cotton shirts, but Jake

said they weren't going to a smart place and she would be fine. She



took a cardigan, too, for there was a chilly wind from the sea-a wind

that made her glad of her short hair, which fell so easily into its

smooth cap against her head.

"It's actually part of the rest camp, so we'll find campers here as

well as people staying in the cottages," " , Jake said. But the food

is good, and it s-well, you'll see."

The restaurant was built right on the beach-almost in the sea, Alison

thought when they reached it. They had a window table, and they could

hear the sea lapping against the rocks that the restaurant seemed to be

standing on. The moon made a silver path across the dark water of the

bay, and it almost looked as if the stars were reflected in the sea.

"You like it?" Jake asked when Alison turned to him. "I thought you

would."

"It's magic," she said softly.

They had oysters, and then crayfish, both of them speciali ties of L de

ritz

"You know what they say about oysters, of course," Jake said,

straight-faced, when they were on the way back to the big house on the

hill. "An aphrodisaic."

Alison laughed.

"I can't see you properly, but I think you're leering, Jake Sheldon,"

she told him.

"Of course I am," he assured her. "If I had a moustache

I'd be twirling it."

He parked the Jeep then turned to look at her.

"Did you yawn?" he asked her suspiciously.

"I'm afraid I did," Alison said apologetically, and she yawned -again.

"It must be the sea air."

And, she thought, it's been something of a strain, this whole trip

here.

Jake sighed.

"So much for the oysters," he said. "All right, I know when to give in

gracefully."

He kissed her, his lips touching hers for a moment, warm, and asking

nothing more of her than that.

"You know something?" Alison said as he drew away from her. "You're a

nice man, Jake."

And that was her last thought as she fell asleep in the pretty

rose-sprigged guest bedroom high in the eaves. He really is, she mused

drowsily. Nice as well as-everything else.



The sun was shining again the next day, and Jake assured her that they

were lucky, for the little town was often lost in sea-fog.

"We're going out right after breakfast," he said mysteriously' So hurry

up!"

He was waiting in the Jeep when she went out half an hour later, and

she could see a picnic basket behind the seat.

"Just coffee and biscuits," he told her airily. "Where we're going is

pretty isolated."

The track, for it was little more than that, took them right out of

Luderitz, with the desert on one side-with notices reminding them

sternly that this was the Forbidden

Territory, the Sperrgebiet-and the sea on the other.

When Jake stopped they were in a small bay, with rocky islands set like

jewels out in the sea and the desert behind them. Gulls wheeled in the

sky, white against the clear blue.

And not another soul in sight, Alison thought in wonder.

"It's lovely, Jake," she said.

"It's more than that," he told her. "Come and see."

He took her hand and led her down to the sand, where he bent down,

muttering something, shook his head, then moved further along. Alison,

amused and intrigued, followed him.

" ,

Ah, here are some, he said, and he opened her hand and put some small

stones in it.

"Agates," Jake told her. "This is called Agate Beach. You do find the

odd garnet or cornelian too, and they say you just might find a

diamond."

In a moment Alison was down on her hands and knees, sifting through the

sand, muttering to herself as Jake had, comparing what she found with

the small stones he had given her.

"I brought a bag for you to put your stones in," he told her.

Together, they moved along the beach, sometimes finding tiny agates,

sometimes not as lucky. When the bag was half-full, Jake pulled her to

her feet,

"Time to go back and have coffee," he said firmly.

He kept her hand in his as they walked back along the beach, Alison

still looking down, and sometimes finding another stone. They were

almost back at the Jeep when she suddenly stopped and bent down.

"Look, Jake," she said breathlessly, and she held out the stone to him.

"Is it a diamond?"



He shook his head, smiling.

"It's quartz," he told her.

And then he wasn't smiling as he looked down at her. His blue eyes

were dark.

He murmured her name.

Alison thought afterwards that perhaps she said his name as well.

Perhaps, too, he took her in his arms, or perhaps she didn't wait for

that. It didn't matter.

The only thing that did matter was that she was there on the deserted

beach with his arms around her, holding her so close to him...

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ALIsoN knew that her whole body was as urgent and as demanding as

Jake's, but she didn't care.

And then, abruptly, his lips left hers.

He looked down at her, his eyes asking, Are you certain about this?

A question that he must have seen there was only one answer to.

Keeping her close to him, with one hand he opened the door of the Jeep

and pulled out a rug. And then, quite gently, he made her sit down and

sat down beside her. Still gentle, his fingers traced the outline of

her mouth just before he kissed her again, slowly.

Alison could feel her heart thudding unevenly. He hadn't taken her in

his arms again and only their lips touched, in that slow and gentle

kiss.

He put his hand on her shoulder and drew her closer. She couldn't,

now, do anything to stop her own arms from finding their way around his

lean body. Then, as each of them recognised and responded to the

urgent demand of the other, all gentleness was gone, borne away in a

tide of passion.

There was only a moment when Alison thought dazedly, What could be more

wonderful than to be on a deserted beach, with nothing but the sand and

the sea and the sky, and Jake's arms around me? And then there was no

room for thinking anything.

A long time later, as they lay on the rug in a pleasant tangle of arms

and legs, Jake said lazily, his lips against her hair, "I did wonder

whether cutting your hair meant the same as letting it down-now I

know."

He handed her her cotton T-shirt. "Better put that on he told her.

"And-er-everything else."

"Same goes for you," Alison returned. Then she said demurely, "You did

warn me about sunbathing, remember. '

"Oh, is that what you call it?" Jake asked. He looked at his watch.



"I promised you coffee, didn't I? Just time before we should get

back."

They sat on the rug drinking mugs of coffee and eating biscuits, and

Alison thought that there couldn't be many places in the world where

they could be completely alone like this, with miles of sand and sea

stretching round the bay. And it was just as well that they were

alone, too!

When Jake said it was time to go she suddenly thought, I wish we could

stay here for ever.

It was a ridiculous thought, and an extremely disturbing one, and it

was only later, when they were in the small plane heading back across

the desert, that it surfaced again.

And for the first time she found herself wondering about her feelings

for this big, dark man beside her, wondering if what she had felt

today, on the beach, could really be no more than a strong physical

attraction.

"Chemistry', I once said to Jake, she remembered.

But could chemistry make her wish that she and Jake could stay there on

their beach for ever?

Chemistry could perhaps account for that tide of feeling that had swept

over them both, but could it account for the way she had felt

afterwards, lying drowsily in his arms?

Foolish, perhaps, to let herself feel so deeply for this man. But

somehow that didn't seem to matter any more.

Jake had a quiet word with the pilot before they took off, and the

small plane flew as low as possible over the desert. He didn't want to

say anything to Alison in case there was no sign of the desert horses,

but there was a much better chance from the air.

Then, just when he had given up, the plane banked sharply, and the

pilot pointed down to the desert below them.

There, running free, were the desert horses, a small herd of them-nine

or ten, Jake thought. At this slow speed the noise of the engine made

it impossible to say anything, so he took Alison's hand in his and

pointed to the horses.

He saw rather than heard her gasp of delight, and then she clasped her

hands toget5er in excitement. She looks like a little girl, Jake

thought, smiling too, as the plane pulled up and turned to head for

Windhoek.

Neither of them said much on the rest of the journey, even when it was

quieter in the cabin. They talked a little about Mrs. Barton, about

the scan she would be having done in Cape Town, about possible surgical

intervention and further treatment. Then, for a long time, they were

silent. Sometimes Jake would find Alison looking at him,

questioningly, he thought. But not in any way as if she regretted what

had happened on the beach.

There were questions in his own mind, too.



How had it happened that this girl had become so special to him? Why

wasn't he, by now, feeling as he always had done before-that it had

been great fun, but it was just one of these things? Time to move on ,

he should be feeling by now. But that was the last thing he wanted.

On the beach, he had had the strangest thought. He had found himself

wishing that they could stay there, just the two of them.

They landed at the small airport just outside Windhoek soon after that,

and there was no more time for thinking as he collected his Land Rover,

took

Alison to her flat, and went round to the clinic to check on his

patients.

But that night, when he had collected Shandy from his neighbour's, and

come back from the necessary late-night walk, he stood on his stoep

looking out over the lights of Windhoek, thinking of Alison ten minutes

away, and he found his thoughts running once again along the same

lines.

And slowly he began to realise that he could not any longer avoid the

word that kept coming into his mind.

I think I love her.

He said the words aloud, wonderingly, and Shandy looked up at him.

Jake said it again.

And he hoped that he wasn't deceiving himself in thinking that Alison

felt the same-or she would, if she stopped fighting it.

She had a stubborn streak, there was no doubt about that, with her

fixed idea of being in love with David Reid, when he hadn't even kissed

her. But after this morning surely she would begin to see the

difference between dreams and reality?

Alison was supervising her staff nurse changing dressings when he

reached her ward the next morning. She looked, as always, fresh and

crisp and efficient in her short-sleeved blue uniform, with her hair

smooth and shining. He had to dismiss a swift memory of the way she

had looked the morning before, on the beach, and he was pretty sure,

from the faint colour that rose in her cheeks, that she had similar

thoughts. " ,

Right, Nurse Muller, you can finish off, she told her staff nurse. "You

can do the temperature charts next." She turned to Jake. "Dr.

Sheldon, I'm not too happy about Mr. Horton; he's got a cough and

abdominal discomfort, more than he should have after his appendectomy.

'

Jake went with her along the corridor to see his patient, and agreed

that there seemed to be early indications of inflammation.

"Let's do half-hourly temp and pulse-rate checks," he said to Alison

once they were back in the duty room. "I'm going to do a leucocyte

count too. There's always this danger of secondary infection with

drainage , and we may be looking at an abscess in the pelvis or in the



liver. Bleep me if there's anything you feel I should know about."

They discussed his two young accident patients, and the fact that the

older boy was soon to be discharged and then Jake had to hurry off to

operate.

"No news of Mrs. Barton yet?" Alison asked him as he made to leave.

"Nothing yet," Jake told her. "Ted will let me know." At the door, he

turned back. "Shandy says are you coming for a walk with him

tonight?"

Alison smiled.

"Tell Shandy I'd love to," she replied. "Meet you there-I might be

late handing over tonight."

There was a phone call from Ted Barton just before Jake left the

clinic, and he tried to find Alison, but she had already gone. As soon

as they met, and she had returned Shandy's eager greeting, she turned

to him.

"Ted phoned from Cape Town," Jake told her. "Adam Steyn did every

possible test, and there is a tumour-a small one. He's going to

operate tomorrow. They should have the pathology report the next

day."

"I do think, whatever the outcome, Mrs. Barton will be relieved,"

Alison said. "She can face anything rather than the prospect of

Alzheimer's."

"The tumour may be benign," Jake pointed out. "But even if it's

malignant it's a small one. She wouid obviously need chemotherapy or

radiotherapy after surgery, but she'll have a reasonable chance."

"You'll let me know anything more you hear?" Alison asked, and he

promised that he would.

He had wondered if she would make any reference to what had happened

between them, but she said nothing, and neither did he. Somehow, it

didn't seem possible to make a light or casual mention of something

that had made him, certainly, look at their relationship in a new

light. He had the feeling-in fact he was almost certain-that Alison

had been doing some thinking too, and he was prepared to give her time,

to let her make the first move.

A few days later, he happened to finish operating in one theatre just

when David Reid finished in the other. They discussed the

operations-Jake had done a colostomy, David a tubal ligation-and then,

both of them tired, sat down to have a cup of coffee together.

"Haven't seen Marta for a few days Jake said casually' How is she?"

David looked away. "She's fine," he said.

He hesitated.

"I-haven't seen much of her either," he said a little awkwardly.

"Had a bit of a tiff?" Jake asked.



David shook his head. "No, it's just-I need to do some thinking, some

sorting out." He stared into his mug of coffee "They're super kids,

Trudy and Brigitte," he said slowly. "I'm very fond of them. But it's

a big thing, taking on someone else's children. Not just for me but

for them too. I owe it to all of us to be certain about this, not to

rush into a decision."

A cold and unpleasant suspicion began to grow somewhere inside Jake.

"You're right, of course, but somehow I had the feeling things were

working out all right for you and Marta he said carefully. "Did you

just-start having second thoughts about It all?"

David shook his head.

"Not really second thoughts," he said. "They were there all the time.

It was Alison saying that I owed it to all of us to be sure that made

me realise that perhaps I wasn't; perhaps I did need to take time to

think about it all."

Jake put his cup down on the table.

"And Marta-how does she feel about this?" he asked abruptly.

David's hazel eyes were troubled.

"She knows I have to be sure," he said. And then, with difficulty, he

went on, "She says that, Jake, and she agreed that we shouldn't see

each other for a bit out of the clinic-but I know her so well that I

can see she's hurt. It's certainly something we both thought a fair

bit about earlier, but Marta thought I'd got it sorted out. It was

just that, talking to Alison, I saw very clearly that it wasn't fair to

Marta and the children just to sort of drift along. The time has come

when I have to make a decision."

Jake stood up.

"And thanks to Alison that's what you're working on," he said, feeling

a cold anger that he could only just hold in check. But not anger at

David. Only at Alison.

And not only anger. He felt a bitter, searing disappointment towards

her as well.

He had known and accepted her stubbornness in the way she felt-or

thought she felt-about David Reid. But he had not expected this of the

girl he had been close to falling in love with, the girl he had held in

his arms that day on the beach.

"Jake?" David said now, obviously taken aback.

With an effort, Jake managed to smile.

"Sorry, David," he said. "I just don't think it's any business of

Alison's at all. Sure, think it through, come to your decision-but

remember it's your life, and it's

Marta's life, and it's the children's lives. It's nothing to do with

Alison!"



It was a few days since Alison had seen Jake other than when he did his

ward rounds, or made brief visits to his patients at other times.

She had been right about the possible abscess in his appendectomy

patient, and a further drainage tube had had to be inserted, but along

with antiobiotics Mr. Horton was recovering nicely.

They had been busy on the ward, and Jake had been busy in Theatre as

well, she knew, so he had probably been working late catching up with

private patients, and also with paperwork. Which would explain why he

hadn't stopped for a quick word with her, a quick arrangement for them

to meet to take Shandy for a walk.

One afternoon, she came back from a late lunch break to find a note

from him on her desk, telling her that although Betty Barton's tumour

had been found to be malignant the neurosurgeon was confident that he

had managed to remove it all, and was as certain as he could be that a

short course of chemotherapy , as an extra precaution, would complete

the treatment.

The scrawl at the end was his name, she realised, smiling a little at

the brusqueness of the note.

He hadn't even taken time to say, Sorry I missed you, she realised. But

soon his busy time and hers would be over and they would see each other

properly.

She was leaving the clinic that evening, hurrying down the steps, as

Jake came up, taking the steps two at a time.

"Hey," she said, smiling and putting her hand on his arm, "It can't be

that much of an emergency! Thanks for the note-it does sound as if

Mrs. Barton is going to be all right, even if she does have a bit of

an unpleasant time with chemotherapy. You haven't heard any more, have

you?"

He shook his head. "No, I haven't," he said.

There was something in his voice that made her look at him more

closely. His lean brown face was taut, his dark brows drawn together,

the blue eyes very dark.

"Jake?" she said uncertainly. "Is something wrong?"

"I wouldn't say "wrong"," he replied coolly. "Perhaps I've just had my

eyes opened, that's all. I hope you're satisfied now that you've




managed to stop David and Marta seeing each other. But I'm sure you

know all about that. I bet you spend most of your time off pointing

out to him what a mistake he would be making, taking on a couple of

ready-made kids."

That talk she and David had had in the dining room one day. She could

feel the colour draining from her face and in spite of the warm evening

she was suddenly cold.

"I-I didn't say that," she faltered, hardly able to believe the

hostility in his eyes. "He had doubts anyway. '

"Oh, I accept that," Jake agreed. "But he'd have sorted out those

doubts if you hadn't interfered. As I say, I hope you're satisfied. I

don't suppose you stopped to think that Marta's had a pretty tough

life, and you've just made it a heck of a lot tougher."

Through the dismay at the way he was looking at her, the things he was

saying, slow anger began to rise.

She lifted her chin.

"My life hasn't been a bed of roses either," she said.

The cool appraisal in his eyes shook her.

"I'm sorry about your sister," he said. "I agree that's tough. But

you can't spend the rest of your life feeling sorry for yourself. And

you can't make up your mind that because Cathy is dead David Reid is

yours and to hell with anyone who gets in the way of that."

"It isn't like that," Alison said shakily. "You don't understand,

Jake. '

"Oh, I understand very well," he said. He looked down at her,

unsmiling. "There's only one thing I want to know," he said. "I

should have the decency not to mention that day on the beach at

Luderitz, but I don't, so I'd like to know-did you decide while we were

making love that you were going to talk to David, or did you only

decide later?"

Alison started to say that she and David had talked before she'd gone

to Luderitz with him, that she had hardly seen David since they got

back. But Jake brushed her stumbling words aside.

"Not that it really matters," he assured her. He smiled , a smile that

didn't reach his eyes. "Funny how wrong you can be. That day I was

pretty sure we had something special going, you and I, and I was pretty

sure you would see that too once you stopped fighting it."

Her small spurt of anger was gone. "I did see that," she said, her

voice unsteady. "I-I've been doing a lot of thinking since we came

back."

His dark eyebrows rose.

"Have you, now?" he asked. "Well, so have I, since I talked to David

Reid. And that's what's really funny-that I could have been so wrong

about the kind of girl you are. So wrong that I really don't know why

we're standing here talking. I'm sorry, but I have patlents to see."



Without even a nod, he turned and went on up the steps to the clinic,

not taking them two at a time now, but walking up slowly,

deliberately.

"Jake-wait," Alison said, knowing she sounded desperate but beyond

caring. Somehow, she had to make him understand.

But the door swung closed behind him, and in spite of the people

hurrying past on the pavement she had never felt so alone in all her

life.

CHAPTER TWELVE

WHErr the door of the clinic closed behind Jake, it seemed to Alison

that he was walking out of her life.

She didn't know how long she stood there, hoping against hope that the

door would open and he would come back. But the door remained closed,

and eventually she went home.

Home?

The word, in her thoughts, stopped her short. For the first time since

she'd arrived here she had a sudden surge of longing for Edinburgh on a

grey winter's day, for the big warm kitchen at home, and her mother's

arms around her.

She hadn't realised it until now, but it was because of Jake that she

hadn't been homesick before. Because of his friendship, the fun they

had had together, the time they had spent together, the things they had

done-even the walks with his dog.

Impatiently she brushed away a treacherous tear. Foolish, foolish, she

told herself, to be like a little girl wanting my mother, just

because-just because Because it's over, Jake and me. It's over, just

when I was beginning to admit to myself that he has come to mean so

much to me. It's over because he thinks I tqried to come between David

and Marta.

She remembered, slowly and painfully now, what she had said to David

that day. It had been concern for David that had made her say what she

did, she told herself. But perhaps she should have kept quiet.

That realisation grew in the next few days, for although she saw David

only briefly, and Marta little more, as there was only one patient in

Alison's ward having daily physiotherapy at the moment, she could see

that neither of them was happy. Marta, when she came to see her

patient, would always look into the duty room, if Alison wasn't in the

ward, and say hello pleasantly. But each time Alison was all too

conscious of the German girl's shadowed blue eyes, of the strain on her

face.

Jake himself, as always, was in regularly and conscientiously to see

his patients. Alison, accompanying him on ward rounds, would find

herself answering his polite questions equally politely, making a note

of any mstructions he had, as if they were strangers, as if they never

had been and never could be anything but two people with nothing more

nor less than a purely professional relationship between them.



The first time he was in the ward, after their meeting outside the

clinic, his bleeper summoned him to another ward just as he was

finishing. But the next time, when he had patted his patient's

shoulder and said that he would be removing the drainage tube the next

day, as he turned to go, Alison steeled herself and said carefully,

"Would you like coffee before you go, Dr. Sheldon?"

The dark blue eyes met hers for a moment.

"No, thank you, Sister," he said politely.

There had, of course, been times when he hadn't had time to have

coffee, but there had been so many times when he had sat in the duty

room with her, usually discussing one of their patients, sometimes

asking one of the young nurses about a current boyfriend.

And always, always with warmth in his eyes, in his smile.

Alison knew that her staff were all too aware of the change; knew that

they talked about it. There would be sudden silences when she

appeared, followed by a bright discussion of a new film, or some

equally innocuous subject they knew, in the way that people always knew

when a hospital grapevine flourished, that she had been seeing him,

going out with him, and now they would know that she and Jake weren't

seeing each other any longer.

It was Heidi Muller who had the courage to ask Alison about it, one day

when they were checking the drugs cupboard together.

"Syringes, fifty," Heidi said.

Alison ticked that on her list.

There was a silence.

"Analgesics," Alison said a little impatiently. "Pethidine first."

The young staff nurse looked at her.

"Sister Maynard," she said a little breathlessly , "what's wrong with

Dr. Sheldon? He never stops for coffee, and he-and you

She stopped, a tide of colour rising in her cheeks.

Alison couldn't feel annoyed with the girl, for she knew it was genuine

concern that had made her brave enough to ask.

"Nothing's wrong," she replied, and she shrugged. "You know yourself

that everyone says nothing is lasting with Dr. Sheldon-he's a

short-term man. I certainly didn't expect or want more than a few

evenings out and some company, and that's what we had. But it's over

now, and I expect before long you'll all be trying to guess who will be

the new lady in his life. '

The young staff nurse shook her head.

"It's more than that," she said slowly. "I've never seen Dr. Sheldon

the way he is now." She hesitated , but only for a moment. "You talk

about Dr. Sheldon being a short-term man, moving to someone new. I

suppose you don't know about the girl he was in love with a long time



ago."

She had only heard the story from some of the older nurses, she said.

About a girl Jake had loved-a girl who had thrown him over for someone

who was older, someone whose prospects were better.

"I don't know the details," Heidi said. "I don't even know her name."

She shrugged. "Maybe it's unkind to say that's why she threw hIm over;

maybe it isn't even true. But what I do know is that Jake Sheldon was

badly hurt, and-and we all thought that at last, with you, he had found

someone to change that. Onlynow he looks the way he does, and

She stopped. Alison knew very well that she had been going to say how

Alison herself looked.

"I didn't know any of that," she said. For a moment , she wondered if

it would have made any difference if she had known, if she would have

behaved any differently towards Jake. But it was too late now. "You're

' g y making too much of it all, Heidi, she said as li htl as she

could. "It's the weather. It's affecting all of us. Shouldn't we

have some rain by now?"

The Small Rains, Jake had told her. And she could believe now how the

build-up of clouds and the hope of rain made people become on edge as

they waited.

Now, with Heidi's concerned brown eyes on her, she mao aged to smile.

"I would never have thought," she said lightly, "that the time would

come when I would be hoping for rain. I'm sure everyone will feel

better when it does come."

A few nights later, the rumble of thunder, and the zigzag of lightning

across the night sky, did build up to a sudden thunderstorm. Alison

stood at her open door, watching the rain on her small stoep and

feeling the relief in the oppressiveness of the atmosphere.

The next day the sky was clear, and everything smelled fresh and washed

by the rain.

And there was no doubt, Alison thought as she walked to work in the

early morning, that she herself felt better than she had before the

rain.

Perhaps it was because of that that she took her courage in her hands

that afternoon and caught Marta We could be friends, Marta and I,

Alison thought. when she finished with her patient. But perhaps it's

too late now.

"Time for coffee, Marta?" she said. She wondered, that night, if she

should try to do

Marta hesitated, and then she smiled. something-perhaps talk to David.

But there really

"Thank you, Alison," she replied. "That will help me was nothmg she

could do now. In fact, what she had before I go on to my hysterectomy

patient in Six. She said to him was right. If he did have doubts, he

had is a very large lady, and she tells me so cheerfully that to face

them. she has never done exercises in her life and sees no , But she



was glad that Marta didn't seem to blame reason to start now! And I

tell her that for her recovery her for making these doubts of David's

surface. it is necessary. Every day we have the same con ver- One

evening, as she was going off duty, later than sat ion So thank you, a

cup of coffee will help me to usual, she went to the car park for her

car. She usually be stern with her." walked, but that night she

planned on doing some

Asking Marta had been an impulse, and Alison shopping on her way home,

for the shops followed the wasn't sure whether she would say anything

'more, but cont mental custom of closing in the middle of the day, it

was Marta herself who gave her the opening. when it was hot, and

staying open late.

"How are the children?" Alison asked. Jake's Land Rover was parked

near the door to the

"They are all right," Marta said. She hesitated, and clinic, and as

she hurried past it there was a welcoming then, her blue eyes steady,

she said, "They miss David. bark and Shandy put his big golden head

out of the And so do I." window. Alison could see from the way his

whole body

There was no point pretending that she didn't know was moving that he

was wagging his tail vigorously. what Marta meant. "Hello, boy," she

said, pattlng him through the open

"I'm sorry about that," Alison said. And then, window. "It's so nice

to see you. I've missed you." because she had to clear the air, as

the rain the previous Shandy made it very plain that he had missed her

g " too. Alison rubbed his ears and spoke to him softly. ni ht had

done, she went on, I'm very much afraid it was something I said that

caused all this." Then Shandv barked again, another welcoming

Marta shook her blonde head. bark. She knew, before she turned round,

that Jake

"Not entirely," she said. "David told me you had was there.

talked-but if he had had no doubts that wouldn't "I was just saying

hello to Shandy," she said quickly, have mattered. No, this is

something he has to be sure ) defensively. about; you are right in

that. Because I will not have There was no change in the cool

hostility in his eyes. my children hurt. Already they love him, and

they "I'm on my way to take him out," he replied. "Just miss him.

If-if things are not to work out, it's better had to look in on the

little tonsillectomy girl I operated that we all know now." on

today."

"You look quite fierce," Alison said, surprised. , He'd been to Female

Surgical, then. But even if he

Marta managed to smile. i had been looking into her own ward it

wouldn't have

"I am fierce, for my children," she replied. "I am like mattered

whether she was there or not. a lioness with my young!" "Bye,

Shandy," she said quietly, and she walked across the car park to her

own car. But as she drove away she could see that Jake was still

standing outside his Land Rover.



What would he have said, she found herself wondering , if I had

suggested going with him to take Shandy for a walk?

But she knew that she couldn't have done that , couldn't have given him

the opportunity to refuse , coolly and politely. As she was quite sure

he would have done.

Their work relationship was professional, nothing more.

Jake came into the duty room one day to discuss the post-operative

treatment of a patient whose spleen had been removed.

"We will, of course," he said, his patient's chart in his hand, "be

watching for post-operative failure of lung expansion, pneumonia, and

any abscess formation below the diaphragm. Please let me know

immediately if there is any abdominal distension.."

"Certainly, Dr. Sheldon," Alison replied, knowing very well that

incomplete expansion of the lung was a very real danger after a spleen

removal, and could well be followed by pneumonia. Before, he would

have discussed his patient completely with her. Now, if she wanted to

know anything more than she had to, she would have to ask.

And I will, she thought.

"This splenectomy was done because of a low blood count?" she asked

him.

Jake had already put the chart down on her desk and had begun to turn

away.

"He developed this abnormal enlargement of the spleen," he said, "due

to rheumatoid arthritis. The removal of the spleen should improve the

blood count, and reduce the tendency towards infection."

He nodded, and left.

All right, Dr. Sheldon, Alison thought. If that's how you want it, I

will keep it entirely correct and professional too.

But that didn't mean failing to talk to him about anything that

concerned her, beyond the particular post-operative care he had

mentioned. Alison, monitoring his patient in the next day or two,

could see that In spite of the analgesics Jake had prescribed Mr.

Wentzel was in more dlstress than he would admit.

She talked to Jake about it.

"I'm certain he's in pain," she said as she accompanied him out of the

ward. "But when I ask him he says he's all right. He doesn't refuse

anything you've prescribed for him, but, unlike many other patients, he

doesn't ask for anything more-nor does he ask if it's time for his next

injection."

They had reached the duty room and they both stopped. Jake looked down

at her.

"It isn't a communication problem, Sister?" he asked. "Mr. Wentzel's

home language is Afrikaans."



"I know that," Alison replied. "I've had Staff Nurse Muller ask him in

Afrikaans and she gets the same answer. I'm going by facial

expression, slightly heightened pulse rate-a general impression of

anxiety."

Jake's dark brows drew together and Alison's heart sank. Either he

thinks I'm criticising his post-operative treatment, she thought, or he

thinks I'm being completely unprofessional. But she wasn't prepared to

retract anything she had said.

She stood beside him, waiting, conscious once again of how tail he was,

standing beside her. And how distant, in spite of the fact that she

could have touched him. ", g y

I'll buy that, Sister," he said then, takin her b surprise. "I have

complete faith in your judgement on pam control. And over the time

I've been treating Mr. Wentzel for rheumatoid arthritis I've had to

drag any admission of pain from him. He's undoubtedly the

stiff-upper-lip kind. Look, we'll go for an intravenous analgesic for

a day or two; a continuous infusion will gqve him more relief than

intermittent doses."

He wrote his instructions on his patient's chart and handed it to

Alison.

"I'll be in tomorrow morning to see if you're happier about him," he

said. "Otherwise, let me know if there are any problems. And thanks,

Sister Maynard."

Alison went into the duty room, the chart in her hand. Obviously, she

thought, it's no problem to Jake working with me. Whatever he feels

about me personally it doesn't affect what he feels about me

professionally.

In some ways it was helpful, knowing that. But she couldn't help

feeling that this satisfactory professional relationship only made her

more conscious of the difference there had been before, with the added

warmth of their friendship.

Friendship?

Relationship?

It doesn't matter what I call it, she thought bleakly, because whatever

it is it's over.

A few days after that, she was walking through the Post Street Mall,

wondering whether she should buy one of the hand-crocheted blouses the

Herero women were making and selling, when a child's voice exclaimed

obviously pleased, "Alison-it's Alison!"

She turned, to see little Brigitte, Marta's younger daughter, beside

her.

"Mummy-Trudy, I've found Alison!" Brigitte called imperiously, to the

amusement of all the passers-by.

A little ahead, Marta, with Trudy beside her, turned and came back

towards them.



Trudy, always more shy than her little sister, lifted her face to be

kissed. Then Marta rescued Alison from Brigitte's enthusiastic hug.

"They are happy to see you, Alison," she said, laughing' The whole

world can see that."

"I'm happy to see them too," Alison replied, meaning it. Then she said

to the little girls, "I haven't seen you since we were at Etosha

together."

"That's a long time," Brigitte said reproachfully.

"It is," Alison agreed.

She looked at Marta. The German girl's blue eyes were clear now,

untroubled, quite different from the way they had been that day they'd

talked over coffee. But before she had time to do more than take in

the difference she saw Marta looking beyond her and smiling.

"Here comes David," Trudy said. "Mummy, can we tell Alison?"

Marta coloured.

"If you want to," she said.

"You know what, Alison?" Trudy said breathlessly as David reached

them. "We're getting married. Mummy and David and Brigitte and me,

and-'

Brigitte broke in, "And we're all going to live together, and Trudy and

me are having new dresses for the wedding."

Over their blonde heads Alison looked at David and Marta. David,

smiling, put his arm around Marta's slim shoulders.

"I haven't even had time to say hello to Alison," he said. "Yes, we

are getting married-all of us!"

"Congratulations," Alison said. For a moment her eyes met Marta's.

"When?"

"We haven't settled that yet," Marta told her. She looked up at David.

"We only decided last night, so we haven't had time yet. And talking

of time-David, I'll meet you after the girls' appointment with the

dentist -coffee at Schneider's?"




She hurried off, a small blonde girl on each side of her.

David looked at Alison.

"In many ways," he said quietly, "I have you to thank, Alison. You

were right-I did have to be certain. And I am."

The Saturday crowds moved around them, women in bright, colourful

dresses, men in open-necked shirts, but for a moment it seemed as if

they were alone. And it seemed to Alison that David was waiting for

something more from her.

"You know what, David?" she said, and her voice was steady. "Cathy

would have liked Marta."

She stood on tiptoe then and kissed his cheek.

"I'm happy for you both," she said as she turned and left him.

And I mean that, she realised as she walked back to her flat. I do

mean it.

For a little while, that night, as she sat alone, she wept again for

her beloved sister. But she knew that David would never forget Cathy,

never forget that he had loved her, that she had been part of his

life.

As I never was, other than being Cathy's sister, she thought. And the

thought didn't hurt, not now.

Jake was right, she thought with sadness. It wasn't real, what I felt

for David. I was in love with a dream. And I was too blind, too

stubborn to see that.

Just as she had been too blind to see the truth about her feelings for

Jake.

She had told both him and herself that it was just chemistry. Physical

attraction, and nothing more.

With a stab of pain, she remembered how she had felt in his arms that

day on the deserted beach. When he'd held her, kissed her. And, even

more clearly than that, she remembered how she'd felt when they'd lain

together afterwards, drowsy, warm, close in every way.

Would it make any difference when he heard that David and Marta were

getting married?

For a moment she couldn't help hoping that it would. But only for a

moment.

Then she remembered the things he had said, the cool hostility in his

dark blue eyes when he looked at her.

No, she thought, with desolation. No, it's too late.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JAxE heard the news from David himself, when they met in the lift going

up to Women's Surgical.



"David, I'm delighted," he said. "Marta and you you seem right

together."

And then, carefully, he asked, "Does Alison know? '

"Yes, we met her the other day-the children told her; couldn't wait to

start telling folk."

"How does Alison feel about it?" Jake said.

"She's happy for us," David replied.

He hesitated.

"I know you thought she was interfering when she said I should take my

time, I had to be sure. But really, Jake, it was just concern." He

smiled. "Just like my own sister would have wanted me to be sure. '

"So Alison doesn't mind?" Jake asked.

"Mind? No, she doesn't mind," David assured him. "I think perhaps at

first she-maybe resented Marta, because of Cathy. You know about

Cathy?" For a moment his hazel eyes were shadowed. "I didn't tell

you-didn't tell anyone except Marta, but I thought that Alison must

have."

"Yes, she told me," Jake said evenly.

They were outside the ward now, the lift doors closing behind them.

"Alison knows I won't forget Cathy," David said quietly. "But she

knows, too, that life has to go on. In a way, it was talking to her

that made me do some real thinking, made me see that I was foolish to

be holding back when I just can't imagine life without Marta and the

children. It's a different life from the life I would have had with

Cathy, but it's going to be a good life, and Alison knows that, and she

doesn't mind any more; I'm sure of that."

He doesn't know, Jake thought. He doesn't know how Alison feels about

him.

He could picture the defiant tilt of Alison's chin, the determined

brightness of her clear grey eyes as she made it clear to David that

she was happy about him marrying Marta. He felt a momentary surge of

pity for her when he considered what it must have cost her to convince

David that she didn't mind. But no-he knew that he couldn't forget

what she had done, trying to come between David and Marta. All right,

she hadn't succeeded, but she had tried.

And the thing that was hardest to forget was that she'd done it after

the wonder and magic of that day on the beach. That hurt, he had to

admit. And, like a sore tooth, he found his thoughts going back and

back again, probing the hurt, unable to leave it alone.

Some of the hospital staff organised a celebration party for David and

Marta.

"We'll have another party when you get married," one of the young

German doctors assured David, when he protested that although they



hadn't set a date it certainly wouldn't be long before they got

married.

Jake, arriving alone, and a little late because he had had an emergency

appendectomy, parked his Land Rover and walked up the steps to the Alte

Fest, taken over for the evening. It was warm and still, and the

freshness of the last rains, a few days ago, was still in the air.

There was loud music, and people were dancing, and some of the German

staff were already singing exuberant German drinking songs at one end

of the long stoep. Jake found Marta and David, kissed Marta

I46 THE DIS'fURBING DR SHELDON and shook David's hand, and went to find

himself a drink.

On the way to the bar, he saw Alison.

She was standing alone, looking at the lights of the city spread below.

She was wearing a silky blue dress with shoestring straps, and her slim

shoulders were golden brown now. He had noticed, at the clinic, that

her hair, still a smooth and shining cap, had golden glints from the

sun.

This can't be easy for her, he thought, but he stood , irresolute, a

little longer.

She turned round then and saw him.

"I'm going to get a drink," Jake said, knowing he sounded brusque.

"Coming?"

She started to shake her head, but he took her hand and drew her with

him towards the noisy group a little further along. And through the

evening he made sure that she wasn't left alone, that she was always

part of a group.

There was dancing, but he didn't dance with her. That, he knew, would

have been more than he felt like coping with-Alison in his arms, the

remembered softness of her hair against his cheek, the warm golden

shoulders with these rldiculous little straps. And knowing , all the

time, that this girl, this girl he had held in his arms that day on the

beach, had come back to Windhoek and deliberately set out to break

things up between David and Marta.

He left earlier than he usually left parties, having seen, a little

qvhile before, that Alison was dancing with one of the young German

doctors. But when he reached the road she was in her car, trying,

without success, to start it.

"Having problems?" he asked, because he couldn't just walk past her.

She nodded.

"The mechanic said he thought I might need a new condenser-it did the

same thing a week ago," she said. "Sometimes if I leave it for a bit

it decides not to be temperamental."

"Then leave it," Jake said. "I'll take you home-bring you back in the

morning, if you like."



"Thank you, but I can walk back, or I can ring the garage," Alison

replied politely. She hesitated. He could see that she was as

reluctant to accept his offer as he had been to make it, and for some

reason that he preferred not to dwell on this annoyed him.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "I'll run you home; it's only five

minutes."

It was, but somehow it seemed a very long five minutes. After the

things he had said to her, it seemed ridiculous to comment on the

reason for tonight's party, so he didn't, and neither did she. But

when he stopped in the street outside her flat she turned to him, and

there was that determined tilt to her chin.

"Thank you for-for what you did tonight, Jake," she said quietly.

He didn't pretend to misunderstand her.

"It can't have been easy for you," he said.

He heard her swiftly indrawn breath and saw her eyes widen.

"Jake- she began uncertainly, and then she stopped. "Never mind," she

said, her voice low.

But he had seen the shadow in her eyes, the sadness of her face, and

all the confused and disturbed feelings of the evening were swept away

in a sudden and all consuming anger that she could look like that

because she had lost David Reid.

"Goodnight," he said abruptly, and he leaned across her to open the

door. He had no intention of doing anything more than that, but her

nearness, her arm brushing against his, a tendril of her hair-all that,

and the anger he felt He took her in his arms, crushing her slim body

against his, knowing his lips were bruising hers, knowing there was no

tenderness, no warmth in the kiss, nothing but this tide of angry

passion.

Abruptly, he let her go.

She didn't say anything.

She turned away from him and got out of the Land Rover. He watched as

she walked across to the door leading to her flat. She didn't turn

round, and when she had gone he drove away.

Perhaps, he thought, with bitterness, just for a few moments I made her

forget him!

Alison held her head high as she climbed the stairs to her flat. She

heard Jake's Land Rover roar off as she unlocked her door. Once

inside, she. carefully locked it behind her, and then, as she leaned

against the closed door, the tears came. Slow, silent and despairing

tears.

How could she have told him, she thought with desolation , that it

wasn't because of David and Marta that the evening had been hard for

her, it was because of him, because of the way everything had changed

between them? He wouldn't have believed her if she had told him that

she'd been standing there, looking at the lights of the city, thinking



about him. No, he wouldn't have believed her. Just as he wouldn't

believe, she knew, that it had been before they'd gone to L de ritz

that she had talked to David, suggested to him that he should take his

time, that he had to be certain.

And perhaps it wouldn't make any difference even if he did know. All

that mattered to him, really, was that she had done it. She had, in

his eyes, tried to come between David and Marta. All right, she hadn't

succeeded; in fact ironically she had probably helped David to reach

his decision to make a commitment. But that wouldn't make any

difference to the way Jake saw her.

And the way he had kissed her, just now... Other times, other kisses,

had been so different. Warm-tender. And yet even without any warmth,

any tenderness, even knowing how he felt about her, there had been that

immediate response of her body to his, a response she hadn't even had

to fight because he had released her so abruptly. As if, she thought

as the tears dried on her cheeks, he was so angry at the way his body

had betrayed him that he just wanted to get away from her.

She began to think, in the next few days, that perhaps the best thing

for her would be to go back home. Her folks would be pleased, and she

knew she could go back to her old hospital. But two things made her

change her mind, at least for the moment.

Her temporary work permit was renewed for another three months. She

had sent in her application weeks ago and, because of all that had

happened, had almost forgotten about it.

The other thing was a conversation she had one day with young Heidi

Muller, her staff nurse.

For once, the ward was quiet. It was visiting time, and there was a

faint buzz of conversation from the two four-bed wards and from the

small private rooms. Heidi and Alison were in the duty room, glad to

sit down for a bit and have a cup of coffee.

"You know, Alison," Heidi said suddenly, "when I qualified I thought

that that was all the learning I needed. But I have learned so much

from you."

"From me?" Alison repeated, surprised.

The young German nurse flushed.

"I have seen that there is much more than just book learning and exams

to being a nurse," she said. "I see that for you a patient is not just

an appendectomy, or a colostomy, or a fractured femur. He is a person,

a person who might be embarrassed about having other people always

around him, or a person who desperately wants some privacy with his

family, or a person who doesn't want to admit that he is anxious and

worried about how he will manage when he is out of hospital."

Alison didn't know what to say. The thought that she was responsible

for this young nurse's attitude to her patients was a sobering one.

"While I was in my final year," she said at last, slowly, "I had a

senior sister who opened my eyes to what it really means to be a nurse.

If you feel you've learned anything from me, it's Sister Cameron we

both have to be grateful to. You know the classic question, of



course-what is the most important thing in any hospital?"

"Asepsis?" Heidi asked. "Oxygen? Mechanical ventilators for

resuscitation? A well-stocked pharmacy?"

Each time, Alison shook her head.

"The most important thing in any hospital," she said, "is the patient.

Never forget that, Sister Cameron used to say to us."

"I won't," Heidi assured her earnestly. She put her mug down and stood

up, straightening her uniform. "Dr. Sheldon's new patient," she said,

"the man from the uranium mine who was in an accident with mine

machinery. Dr. Sheldon has managed to save his leg, but Steve-he's an

engineer-will not be able to walk for any distance now, so he can't

work directly in the mine again. '

"They're giving him a job in administration," Alison said. "His

experience will be invaluable-he's not going to be out of a job,

Heidi."

"I know that," Heidi replied. "I thought, because he hadn't lost his

leg, he would be so glad of that that nothing else would matter. But

he just lies there, so silent, so-remote. I want to help him, but I

don't really know why he is like that."

Alison stood up too and went over to the window. She also was

concerned about the engineer and had been thinking about him. Now,

because of the things Heidi had said, she was remembering Sister

Cameron:

"There are different kinds of loss, you know, Heidi," she said, looking

out at the busy street, the people all hurrying about their business.

"Loss of life-loss of part of your body. These are more easily

understood issues. But this man is losing what has been his way of

life. His role in life will change completely. He's always been an

active man, a man who got right to where the work was, where the

trouble was, and sorted it out. Now he will have to sit at a desk; he

will have to tell other people what to do. That's a loss too. '

She thought for a moment. "It might help if someone from the mine was

to help him see how important his new job will be, how much depends on

it. I'll talk to Dr. Sheldon-we can get in touch with whoever is in

charge of personnel at the mine."

"An excellent idea, Sister," Jake said, from the door of the duty

room.

Alison turned round, a tide of colour in her cheeks.

"I didn't want to interrupt you," he said. He smiled at Heidi. "Thanks

for keeping quiet, Staff. No, I've been worried about Steve Brown too;

he hasn't been making the progress he should. Physically, he has, but

I think you've put your finger on it. We were all so pleased that we'd

managed to save the leg, we weren't looking further tban that. I'll

see that that is put under way, Sister-thanks."

Polite, professional, a good working relationship, Alison found herself

thinking as he turned and walked along to the ward.



Not knowing she was doing it, she sighed.

"Alison..." Heidi said uncertainly. There was sympathy and concern on

her face, but all at once it was more than Alison could take, coming on

top of the cool detachment she had just seen in Jake.

"Time for us to get back to work, Staff," she said brightly. "The bell

for the end of visiting time is just about to ring. Don't hurry Mr.

Garden's wife away she can only get a lift here in the afternoon; let

her stay a bit longer."

"Certainly, Sisters," the young staff nurse said, accepting this return

to formality.

The next day, the personnel manager from the mine came to visit the

engineer, and he brought with him a sheaf of questions about procedure,

about problems they were having. Alison, watching unobtrusively, saw

her patient answer reluctantly at first, without much show of interest,

but by the time the visit ended he was much more animated, and as his

visitor left Steve Brown called after him, "You can leave those papers,

Tom; I'll see if I can come up with something-plenty of time here, you

know."

Jake, leaving the next day after checking his patient, met Alison at

the door of the ward and followed her to the duty room.

"A big change in Steve Brown, Sister," he said. "I'm grateful to you

for your input on that-I'd become a bit blinkered, I'm afraid-so sure

that since we'd saved his leg our problems were over."

"He certainly co-operated in his phsyiotherapy today," Alison told him.

"Marta had been feeling, too, that although he diq what she told him to

he wasn't really motivated, but she found quite a difference today. '

Jake nodded, but he didn't turn to go as she expected him to. She

waited, uncomfortable.

"I had a phone call from Ted Barton last night," he said tben. "They've

just got back from Cape Town Betty 's finished her course of

chemotherapy; obviously she feels much better now that it's over. He's

bringing her to Windhoek next week; he says he thinks some shopping

will be good for her."

"I'm glad to hear that," Alison said, and she wondered why he still

wasn't going.

"Ted says he and Betty would like us to have dinner with them one

night," Jake said abruptly. " "Us?" Alison couldn't help repeating

the word.

"You and me," Jake said levelly. "If you would find that-not a good

idea, I can make some excuse. He smiled, but the smile didn't reach

his eyes. "I can have an emergency here or you can have one of those

twenty-four-hour viruses. '

Alison didn't know what he wanted her to say-or what she herself wanted

to say.

"How do you feel about it?" she asked him carefully.



He shrugged.

"It wouldn't bother me," he said. "We're civilized people, after all,

are we not?"

Slow anger began to rise inside Alison.

"If it wouldn't bother you," she said coolly. "It certainly wouldn't

bother me. As you say, we're civilized people. You'll let me know any

arrangements, will you? Now, if you don't mind, Dr. Sheldon, I have

to finish these charts."

She bent her head over the charts and picked up her pen. For a long

time, it seemed, Jake stood there, watching her. And then, abruptly,

he a turned away.

"Yes, I'll let you know," he said, and his voice was as cool as hers.

When he had gone, Alison put her pen down. An evening with the

Bartons-Jake pleasant but remote memories of how different things had

been between them when they were in Luderitz because of Mrs.

Barton. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea; perhaps she shouldn't have

let her anger make her say it 'f wouldn't bother her. Because it

would. She wondered , q-:: now, how she would get through an evening

like that.

Two days later, she came into work a little later than usual and

hurried up to her ward, ready to take over from Sister Biwa, the night

sister. Sister Biwa was standing in the duty room, and Heidi Muller

and the two nursing aides were with her.

"Sorry, Sister," Alison said breathlessly.

"Oh, Sister Maynard," the night sister said, not quite steadily, and

Alison saw then that Heidi and the nursing aides were obviously upset

about something.

"What is it," she asked, more sharply than she had meant to. "Is

something wrong?"

Her mind whirled through her patients. There was no one desperately

ill, no one with the possibility of any real emergency, but of course

unexpected thmgs could happen.

"It's Dr. Sheldon," Sister Biwa said.

"Dr. Sheldon?" Alison repeated, taken aback.

It was the young staff nurse who put her hand on Alison's arm then.

"There's been an accident, Sister," she said.

An accident? Jake? She wanted to ask the questions, but somehow she

couldn't find her voice.

"A car went through a red light and hit him straight on," Heidi said.

"They're operating now, but When she hesitated, Alison at last managed

to speak.



"How bad is it?" she asked very carefully.

She saw now that there were tears in Heidi's brown eyes.

"Pretty bad," she said. And then, breaking down, she cried, "Oh,

Alison, they don't know if he'll make it!"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

IT wns unthinkable, impossible, for Jake to die.

But then it had been unthinkable and impossible for Cathy to die.

"No!"

She hadn't meant to say the word aloud. I will not think that way, she

told herself fiercely. With an effort that hurt, she put the thoughts

and the memories of Cathy behind her.

"A car accident?" she said. "Someone came through a red light?"

Sister Biwa nodded.

"Went right into him; the driver's side is shattered , she said.

"What are-Dr. Sheldon's injuries?" Alison asked , and she hoped that

her voice was steady.

"Epidural haematoma," the night sister told her. "His right arm may be

broken-they're X-raying that-but it's the skull injury that is the real

trouble."

The words from her textbook of nursing management were before Alison's

eyes as clearly as if the book were in her hand.

Epidural haematoma is considered an extreme emergency , since marked

neurologic deficit or even cessation of breathing may occur within

minutes. Immediate surgical intervention consists of making openings

through the skull (burr holes), removing the clot, and controlling the

bleeding point.

Once, during her theatre training, she had seen the operation done.

Successfully. But she knew very well that it wasn't always successful.

And so much depended on how quickly the clot could be removed. And

whether any neurologic damage had been done before that.

And in the meantime there was nothing anyone could do-except the




theatre team-but wait.

"Did they manage to get Dr. Schmidt?" she asked.

Dr. Schmidt was in private practice, but he used the clinic for

operating, and he was called in for any neurological surgery that was

too specialised for the clinic doctors.

"Yes, Dr. Schmidt is operating, and Dr. Reid is assisting him,"

Sister Biwa said.

David had certainly had some neurological experience in Edinburgh. For

some reason, it helped to think that he was in theatre too, with

Jake.

"Sister Biwa, you must get off; you're late," Alison said then, with an

effort. She turned to her staff nurse.

" Please start on the temps, Staff, and ri ht after breakfast we'll do

any dressings that need to be changed."

Heidi Muller had recovered enough to say "Yes, sister," as she went

off. Alison sent the nursing aides off to do a bedpan round.

Sister Biwa, on her way out, turned back.

"Keep yourself busy too, Sister Maynard," she said gently. "There is

nothing we can do but wait. Wait, and pray. I will go into my church

on my way home and I will pray for our Dr. Sheldon."

The compassion on the older woman's face was almost Alison's undoing.

' q y

"Thank you, Sister Biwa, she said, not uite stead il

Determlnedly she set about making a start to the day, glad to have

demands from different patients, glad to be kept occupied. In the

strange way that such things often happened in hospitals, all the

patients had heard about Jake's accident and wanted to know how he

was.

Everyone is concerned, Alison thought; everyone is worried. And I have

no special claim; I will just have to wait, like everyone else.

She didn't even have any right to go the two floors down to where the

theatres were, to see if there was any news. But when the patients

were having breakfast Heidi suggested that she should go. " p "

We can cope here, Sister," she ointed out. I know you usually have a

coffee-break right here, so why not go to First Floor instead? After

all, someone has to find out, for all of us, and you're the one who

should do that."

Alison looked at her.

"Because you're a sister," the young staff nurse said hastily,

colouring.

First Floor, usually bustling with activity at this time, seemed to



Alison to be unnaturally quiet. One or two of the nurses, in their

green theatre gowns, passed, and looked at her curiously. Then an

older one, a woman she knew slightly, stopped.

"There's no news yet, Sister Maynard," she said quietly. "They're

still busy in Theatre. I'll let you know as soon as there is some

news."

" p " ,

Thank you, Sister Shaw," Alison're lied. I can t stay long, but we're

on breakfast now, and my staff nurse is in charge. We-we all wanted to

know; that's why I came down."

"Of course," the theatre sister replied.

But when she had gone Alison thought, I don't care whether everyone in

the world sees me here, waiting for news of Jake. It doesn't matter

that I have no more right, no more claim, than anyone else. I'm

staying here until I hear how he is.

So often she had seen relatives sitting as she was now, waiting for

news. And as she was there the memories of Cathy's accident came

flooding back. They had waited, she and her mother and father and

David. But Cathy had died before they could operate. The surgeon had

told them that there had been severe spinal injuries, and if she had

lived she would have been a paraplegic. And Cathy wouldn't have wanted

to live like that.

Neither would Jake.

The thought was there, harsh and bleak.

For even without spinal injuries the neurologic damage and the inter

cranial pressure could have caused nerve damage. Even if the surgeon

managed to remove the clot, they wouldn't know for some time.

"Alison?"

It was David, in his green theatre gown. He looked weary. She stood

up, and he came over to her.

"He's come through," he said quietly. "Hans Schmidt did a superb job;

he removed the clot and eased the pressure."

He didn't say any more, knowing that she knew as well as he did that

Jake wasn't by any means out of the woods yet.

"Intensive Care?" she asked.

He nodded.

"He's there now-Hans didn't even want him kept in the recovery room.

We'll keep him there for a couple of days-Hans wants a complete

neurologic observation record kept."

"Can I see him a little later?" Alison asked, relief that the

operation had been successful making her voice a little unsteady.

He didn't seem to be surprised.



"I'll tell them in ICU that you'll be up. Give it a couple of hours,

though; he's pretty deeply under."

Alison went back to her ward to report to the other nurses and the

patients. And to try to keep herself from thinking of Jake in the

intensive care unit, to try to keep away any negative thoughts of

possible complications that might arise after surgery of this sort.

It was Heidi who voiced the same concerns when she came back from an

early lunch.

"It's like a big black cloud hanging over the diningroom , over the

whole clinic," she said quietly. "Everyone is talking about Dr.

Sheldon; everyone is is wondering how things will go." Her anxious

dark eyes met Alison's. "I heard Matron talking to Sister Venter from

Women's Surgical. She was talking about pneumonia , epilepsy, cerebral

swelling, infection, vascular complications. And-and even if he gets

through that she said there could be emotional instability,

posttraumatic neuroses "Stop it, Nurse Muller," Alison said sharply.

"You should never have been listening to what Matron was saying. '

And I could wring Matron's neck, she thought, for saying any of those

things in a public place, with girls like Heidi around!

But they were all very real possibilities; she knew that.

The ward was busy, and she was glad of that. Just as she was wondering

when she could spare ten minutes to go a floor up, to the intensive

care unit, David Reid came hurrying in.

"Sister, can I have a word with you?" he said.

Alison could feel all the colour drain from her face.

Forgetting all formality, then, David put his hand on her arm.

"I'm sorry, Alison. Jake is no worse; in fact he's beginning to come

out of the anaesthetic. But he's very restless, very agitated. I

wondered if you could manage to get through to him, get him to calm

down a bit. I had a word with Matron-she'll send a staff nurse from

Women's Surgical to give Nurse Muller a hand."

Alison told Heidi Muller where she was going, and then, suddenly

wordless, she followed David up the stairs. But at the double door

leading to the intensive care unit she stopped.

"David," she said, troubled, "I-I want to see Jake, but I don't know if

it will do him any good. Seeing me, I mean."

David looked down at her.

"Because you've quarrelled?" he asked gently.

Alison nodded, not even wondering how he knew that.

"Alison, my dear, I saw how things were between Jake and you at

Etosha," he said. "You may have quarrelled since then, but both Marta

and I could see that you had something pretty special going for you.

I'm counting on that to get through to Jake now."



You and Marta saw more than I did way back then, Alison thought.

She took a deep breath.

"I hope you're right," she said doubtfully.

She had worked in Intensive Care at her Edinburgh hospital and knew

what to expect. But that didn't lessen the shock of seeing the still

figure on the bed, the drip set up, the tubes, the shaved and bandaged

head, the big brown hands lying so passively.

And then Jake moved, muttering restlessly. The nurse beside him kept

him still, for although he obviously couldn't move much he was

disturbing the tubes. Her eyes went to the monitor at the side of the

bed and Jake's disturbance was echoed there.

Alison sat on the chair and took one of his hands in hers.

"Jake, it's Alison," she said quietly. "Lie still-everything 's going

to be fine."

She thought that he tried to say her name, but his eyes were still

closed. Once again he murmured something , and this time she thought

she knew what he was trying to say.

She leaned closer to him.

"Shandy?" she said. "You're worried about Shandy?

It's all right, I'll see to him. Don't worry, Jake-I'll look after

him."

There was no doubt then that she was right. Jake gave a small sigh and

relaxed.

Gently, Alison put his hand back on the white cover.

"Good girl," David murmured. "I didn't think of the dog. '

On the way back down to her own ward he said, carefully, that he

thought it was a good sign that Jake had been worried about Shandy.

"I thought so too," Alison replied. "But-but of course we can't build

too much on that, can we?"

"No, we can't," David agreed. "But it's still a good sign. Will you

manage to see to Shandy?"

"The neighbours usually look after him if Jake is away," Alison said.

"I'll go up as soon as I'm off duty and-tell them what's happened."

"You'd better have Jake's keys," David suggested. "They were in his

pocket-I'll have them sent up to you. '

The town house next to Jake's wa sing darkness when Alison arrived that

evening. So was Jake's own house, but she could hear Shandy barking as

soon as she parked outside. She let herself in, bracing herself for

the big dog's welcome.



"It's all right, boy, it's all right," she said, knowing all too well

that it was anything but all right. "Let's give you some food

first."

Fortunately, she had been here once or twice when Jake had fed Shandy,

so she knew where to find his food. When the dog was out in the back

yard with his bowl, Alison saw a key and a note on the kitchen

counter.

"Key to Number Six-water plants on stoep and in lounge. '

So the people next door were away.

She took Shandy for a short walk around the block while she thought

about this. But there was only one thing to do. She went back to her

own flat, collected fresh uniforms, any other clothes she might need in

the next few days, whatever food was in her fridge, and then she went

back to Jake's house.

"You and I," she told Shandy firmly, "are going to keep each other

company for-for a bit. Until your master is better."

There was a small spare bedroom, but there were all sorts of things

occupying the room as well as the bed-an ironing table, an exercise

bike, a small computer -and it seemed a better idea to take her things

into Jake's room.

It was when she was getting into bed that she saw the photograph lying

face down on the bedside table. She picked it up.

It was one he had taken of her, one day when they had met to take

Shandy for a walk. Her hair, short as it was, was blowing in the wind,

and she had one hand raised up to it. She was laughing-at him, at the

camera.

He had kept it, but he had put it face down.

Slowly, she put it back the way it had been. Then, she just sat there,

on the side of Jake's bed, and for the first time in that endless day

the tears came.

Tears for the man she loved.

She knew that now, with complete certainty. How could she have been so

blind for so long? And now now , when she knew that she loved him, he

was lying there in the clinic, in Intensive Care. And even if he

recovered-and he had to recover, she thought passionately, fiercely; he

had to-there was still the bitter distance between them, as was evident

in lying the photograph face down beside his bed. But even that didn't

matter, she thought, the tears still falling slowly, silently. All

that really mattered was that he should get through this.

She got up earlier than usual the next morning and took Shandy out for

a short walk. Then she sat in

Jake's kitchen and had cereal and toast and coffee. ; The big golden

dog seemed to sense that this was no time for his usual exuberance, and

while she was sitting there he came and sat beside her, his big head on

her knee, his topaz eyes fixed on her face.



That was almost too much for Alison.

She bent and put her face against him. "It's all right, boy," she

murmured. "We'll get him back home to you."

There was little change in Jake's condition that day or the next. The

X-ray had established that his arm wasn't broken, but that, Alison

knew, would have been straightforward to deal with. The real danger,

the ; real concern, was the extent of the neurologic damage done before

the clot had been removed. And the possible complications that could

arise during the recovery time.

She knew that in Intensive Care the team of nurses and doctors was

continually monitoring his respiratory functions, his responsiveness

and orientation, his inter cranial state. They would also, in what she

had been taught to call anticipatory nursing, be observing possI ible

early signs of complications-gastrointestinal disturbances, electrolyte

abnormalities, and other bodily disfunctions.

By the end of the second day Dr. Schmidt was saying cautlously that

the prognosis was better than he had expected, but he would be happier

if there was some sign of awareness, of response, from Jake. Whenever

' she could spare ten minutes Alison went to the intensive care unit,

each time hoping there would be even a slight change-a flicker of the

closed eyelids or a movement in the big, inert hands.

She went back to Jake's house after that second long day, took Shandy

out, fed him, and then came back to the hospital, as she had done the

previous night. She had changed into a cotton dress-she knew it was

foolish, because Jake hadn't opened his eyes yet, but he had been

surrounded by people in uniform since the accident and she wanted to

make it clear-to herself , to him if there was any responsiveness

now-that she was there as herself, not as Sister Maynard.

She sat beside his bed and talked to him.

"Shandy and I had a good walk," she told him. "Remember the place

where he once almost caught a meerkat? He had a good sniff around it

again tonight, then he gave up. Oh, and your calendar said he had to

have his shots today, so I phoned the vet and said I'd be along

tomorrow."

For a while, then, she sat quietly, both of his hands held in hers. But

talking to him just might help-they all thought that-so she went on,

telling him things that had happened on the ward, about the

thunderstorm the night before, about how good his small garden looked

after that.

"I did tell you yesterday," she said then, "but you were pretty dozy,

so you may not remember, but with your neighbours away I've moved in

with Shandy. It seemed the best thing to do-I couldn't really take him

to my flat, and he's used to being left at home with the door to the

yard open.

"He does give me a funny look each time I go back; I'm sure he looks

past me, hoping you're just coming, but he's getting used to it.

"I'll stay with him just as long as necessary, Jake, so don't worry

about that. Tomorrow is my day off, so we'll have a good long walk; I

might take him up to the water-tower."



It had been difficult not to keep checking on the monitor at the side

of his bed, but she had been determined not to, for she believed firmly

that you could never gauge the level of consciousness of any patient,

and she dldn't want Jake to see how worried she was. And, of course,

the monitor was linked to another screen in the duty room, where there

was always a highly trained sister keeping a check.

But it was late now, and she. allowed herself a swift, reassuring

glance at the screen. Then she leaned forward and kissed Jake's cheek,

which was rough because he hadn't been shaved.

"I'm going now, Jake," she said softly. "I'll be back tomorrow. '

It was as she was placing his hands back on the white bed-cover that it

happened. A fractional movement, but she knew she hadn't imagined that

his hand tried to tighten on hers.

His lips moved.

"Don't go," he murmured.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"I won't go," she promised unsteadily. "I'll stay just as long as you

want me to."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JAxE hadn't opened his eyes, but it didn't matter. He knew she was

there, and he didn't want her to go away. He was coming out of the

comatose state he had been in since the accident and the operation.

Alison sat beside him, holding his hands in hers, listening to his

breathing. Surely it was deeper, more natural breathing, she

thought-and as she thought it she realised that she could keep no

professional detachment with Jake. If it had been any other patient

she could have assessed his breathing pattern, his responses, and felt

fairly confident of any judgement she made.

But this was Jake, and all her professional detachment was suspended.

Through the night she half dozed as she sat there beside him, conscious

of the night sister coming in, checking on her patient, bringing Alison

a welcome cup of coffee. But any time she tried to ease her hands from

his his fingers tightened on hers.

Some time towards dawn she fell asleep more heavily, her head down on

her arms, so tired that the uncomfortable position couldn't keep her

awake any longer.

She woke, suddenly, as a shaft of early morning sunlight shone on her

face, and she lifted her head.

Jake's eyes were open, and he was looking at her.

"What are you doing here?" he said, more than a little aggressively.

"You asked me to stay," Alison told him.



"Oh," he said, taken aback. The dark blue eyes opened wider. "You

look pretty awful," he said. "Your hair's all tousled."

He tried to lift one hand, as if to smooth her hair, but he didn't

manage to.

"You don't look too good yourself," Alison told him truthfully, noting

that the rough, dark stubble on his face and the bandage on his head

gave him a slightly rakish look.

"Then we must be quite a pair," Jake murmured.

He closed his eyes, and she thought he had fallen asleep, but then,

without opening his eyes, he said, "Yes, I remember I didn't want you

to go. Thanks for staying, Alison. And thanks for looking after

Shandy. You'd better go now-get some real sleep."

Was that a smile on his lips? Alison's heart lifted.

"You look as if you could do with it," he added.

She stood up, her hands free now. Then she hesitated While he had been

unconscious she had kissed his cheek each time she left him. But he

had opened his eyes again now, and he was looking at her.

She could feel colour rising in her cheeks, but she bent. and kissed

him, her lips brushing the roughness of his face.

"Alison..." he said, and his eyes were troubled. Then he shook his

head slightly, as if he had changed his mind.

"Don't worry, Jake," Alison said gently. "Whatever it is it can

wait."

"You'll come back?" he asked her.

"Yes," she said, her voice steady. "I'll come back."

She went into the duty room on her way out to report the improvement in

Jake's condition to the sister in charge. Then she went home to

Shandy.

"He's going to be all right," she told the big golden dog as she sat on

the kitchen doorstep, hugging him. "Oh, Shandy, he's going to be all

right."

The tears she had been holding back all last night could be held back




no longer, tears of relief, as the tension of the past few days eased.

She knew all too well that there could still be problems,

post-operative complications, but when she thought of Jake telling her

she looked awful, when she remembered the way he had smiled-somehow,

she was certain that the worst was over, that he was on the way to

becoming the old Jake again.

And the best thing, she thought, drying her tears, was that for the

first time in so long there had been no coolness, no hostility in his

eyes, in his voice.

That could change, of course, as he recovered. She knew that. But she

held the warm comfort of it close to her, for now.

When Jake woke up again he knew, even before he opened his eyes, that

Alison wasn't there.

But she had said she would come back, and he knew that she would. He

wasn't sure now what he had wanted to say just before she had left.

Something troubled him, about Alison and himself, but the effort of

working out what it was made his head ache, and she had said it could

wait.

He felt himself drifting off to sleep, and it seemed a good idea, so he

gave in to it. When he woke, David Reid was standing beside the bed.

"So you've decided to rejoin us, have you?" he said.

Jake looked at him.

"Was there some doubt about that?" he asked.

David shrugged.

"Perhaps a little," he admitted. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What do you remember, Jake?"

"I remember the white car coming through the lights like a bat out of

hell," Jake said. He frowned. "After that-just snatches. Alison has

been here, I know that, and I knew, somehow, that she was looking

after

Shandy. I think I remember Hans Schmidt being around-did he

operate?"

David nodded.

"What did he do?" Jake asked with interest.

"Well, he had no choice but to clear the epidural swelling," David told

him. "Burrholes, to remove the clot, and then we had to wait for the

swelling to reduce. '

Cautiously, Jake put his hand up to his bandaged head.

"Still feels like one hell of a hangover," he said. Then he thought of

something. "My folks, David. Do they know about this? It won't do my

mother's heart problem any good."

"Hans Schmidt phoned your sister-apparently she's friendly with his



daughter-and your folks had gone off with their caravan, heading for

the Wild Coast. We could have sent out a police message, but in fact

the immediate danger was over before your sister even heard. Hans sent

a fax to your brother-in-law's office this morning, when we could

report an improvement. He seemed to think your sister-Jill? Yes, I

thought so-would let your folks know now, and they'd probably come

up."

His bleeper went then and he stood up, but at the door he turned

back.

"You'll be glad to know you're being moved out of Intensive Care," he

said.

That afternoon, Jake was moved to Alison's ward.

She was in his room when the young staff nurse from ICU pushed the

trolley in and between them, they managed to ease him from the trolley

into bed.

"This is ridiculous," Jake protested. "I could get up and climb into

bed instead of two lightweights like you heaving me around. '

The young staff nurse looked at Alison for guidance,

but Alison merely adjusted the sheet over him and tucked it in.

"I'm sure you could, Dr. Sheldon," she said serenely. "But you're not

going to. There-are you comfortable ?"

"Yes, thanks," Jake replied, untruthfully and rather more shortly than

he had meant to, for the truth was that he actually felt decidedly

uncomfortable at the thought of being nursed by Alison. Not the

physical part-I'd be a pretty funny kind of doctor if I let that bother

me, Jake told himself-but because earlier that day his memory had

finally returned and he knew now why he had felt troubled about her

being with him.

The things he had said to her-the things he had thought about her-and

yet she had unquestioningly gone to live in his house and look after

Shandy; she had come here hour after hour to sit with him.

There was all that, and yet there was still the knowledge that she had

come back from that unforgettable day on the beach at Luderitz with no

thought for anything but to do what she could to come between David and

Marta. And he still felt that the fact that she hadn't succeeded was

less relevant than the fact that she had tried.

Remembering this, thinking of it, made him, he knew, ill at ease with

Alison.

Sometimes, when she had finished doing the evaluation chart that Hans

Schmidt still wanted, or when she had changed the dressing on his head,

he would find her clear grey eyes resting on him, questioning.

Questions that he didn't know the answers to, and so he would speak

quickly of something-anything.

"No vascular complications or cerebral swelling, Sister? No emotional

instability or irritability?,



"None that I can see, Dr. Sheldon," Alison would reply.

After a few days he asked her, awkwardly, if it was difficult for her,

staying on at his house.

"Shandy could go into kennels until either I'm home or the neighbours

get back."

Alison's eyes widened.

"Shandy would hate that," she told him. "Really, it's no trouble,

Jake."

They were formal only when other hospital staff were around, because

anything else would have been absurd, when Alison had spent all those

hours at his bedside, when she was staying in his house. And yet and

yet Jake knew all too well that the lack of formality didn't bridge the

distance that he knew was between them again.

It was David Reid who unwittingly changed that, a week later, on one of

his visits to check on Jake.

"I hope you're going to be out in time for our wedding -we're thinking

of just after Christmas. It's going to be a quiet wedding, but Marta

and I would like you to be our best man."

"I'd like that, David," Jake said, meaning it. Since his accident he

had come to know the quiet Scots doctor much better, and he appreciated

being asked to do this. He touched his head. "You think my hair will

have grown again by then?"

"It's growing already, and when the bandages come off in a couple of

days you shouldn't be quite as much of a Kojak," David replied.

"You mean with luck I'll have a crew cut where most of the crew have

baled out?" Jake suggested.

He hesitated, and then asked, easually, if Alison would be coming to

the wedding.

"Of course," David said. "I don't know how long it would have taken me

to get myself sorted out if Alison hadn't spoken to me, told me I

needed to be very sure. It only took me a few days to be just that,

but by then you two were in Luderitz, and " ,

Wait a minute, Jake said, startled. And then, carefully, he asked,

"You mean it was before we went to L de ritz that Alison said that to

you?"

"Oh, yes," David replied. Smiling, he added, "Not that it matters when

she said it; the important thing is that she did."

Perhaps it doesn't matter to you, Jake thought when he was alone, but

it certainly does to me.

Because it did make a difference; there was no getting away from that.

Perhaps it was foolish to feel that it mattered, but the fact remained

that it did.

And somehow he was going to have to let Alison know that. Which



wouldn't be easy.

The next morning Alison came into his room soon after she came on

duty.

"Sleep well, Dr. Sheldon?" she asked him, her chart in her hand.

"I would have slept better," he told her, "if Sister Biwa hadn't felt

she had to keep checking on me to make sure I was sleeping! She kept

coming in with her torch, doing her modern-day Lady with the Lamp."

He looked up at Alison.

"My pulse rate normal?" he asked her. "It is? I'm surprised."

She coloured. "Quite normal," she told him firmly. "And your

temperature too." She smiled, and because he knew her so well he could

see that she sensed the change in him. "Sister Biwa is just doing her

job."

"I know," Jake agreed. "I must tell her the story about Florence

Nightingale and the wounded soldier. He got so fed up with her nightly

visits that he said to her, "For heaven's sake, Flo, put that darned

lamp away and let us all get some sleep!" '

Alison laughed.

"Yes, it's a story that's a favourite with most nurses , but maybe

Sister Biwa hasn't heard it. Anyway, Dr. Sheldon, don't you dare

criticise the nursing staff; remember you're at our mercy!"

"Sister Maynard, I wouldn't dream of it," Jake assured her. His heart

lifted. Maybe now was as good a time as any. "Alison..." he began,

not sure quite what he was going to say.

But before he could say anything at all the telephone in the duty room

rang, and a moment later the young staff nurse came in.

"Sister Maynard, Matron wants to speak to you," she said.

Alison followed her from the room.

"Damn!" Jake said, loudly and forcibly.

Alison didn't know how it had happened, but somehow the awkward feeling

between Jake and her had gone.

She had told herself, sensibly, that she couldn't expect the closeness

there had been in the first days after the operation to go on the days

when she had sat with him, when she had known, although he was barely

conscious, that he wanted her to be there.

But in spite of that it had been distressing to find a return to-no,

not the cool hostility, certainly not that, but-a distance.

And now that distance had... not quite gone, but almost. Jake was once

again almost the old Jake, teasing her, amused when he managed to make

her blush-and he was good at that, she had to admit and undoubtedly

pleased to see her when she came on duty each day.



Nevertheless Alison knew that things wouldn't be right between them

until they had talked, and cleared the air.

She was surprised, a few nights later, to get a phone call at Jake's

house from her mother.

"How did you know where to find me, Mum?" she asked.

"Phoned David," her mother told her briskly. "I got his number from

his folks, and he told me where to find you. Are you house-sitting or

something, Alison?"

"Something like that," Alison said. "Mum, is anything wrong?"

They had agreed, she and her mother, after the first phone call Alison

made, that they would stick to letters , for they both found the

cut-off after a phone call too distressing, making them all too

conscious of the vast distance between them.

"Nothing wrong at this end," her mother assured her. "But we were

getting a bit worried. You've always written so regularly, and it's

been a few weeks now since we've had a letter."

"Oh, Mum, I'm sorry," Alison said, contrite. "Things have been a bit

hectic; I hadn't realised it was so long."

"As long as you're all right, lass," her mother said. Then, carefully,

she said, "Mary Reid told me that David is getting married to this

Marta."

"Yes, they're getting married quite soon," Alison replied.

"Oh, Alison, you went all that way, and now-I thought it was a mistake,

but you would go."

Her mother's voice was unsteady now, and Alison felt dreadful that she

had let her folks worry about her.

"It's all right, Mum, it really is," she said. "It wasn't that at all

that kept me from writing. I've been so worried about Jake-I'm staying

in his house, looking after his dog."

"Jake-Dr. Sheldon?" her mother said. "Why were you worried about

him?"

Alison told her about the accident, and Jake's time in the ICU, and how

he was doing now.

"I'm glad of that," her mother said. "You did mention him quite a lot

for a bit, but not in the last few letters. Anyway, I'm glad to know

he's recovering."

They said goodbye soon after that, both of them, Alison knew, all too

conscious of the cost of this very long-distance call, and Alison

promised that she would write regularly.

When she put the phone down the sudden cutting off and the

consciousness of the distance brought unexpected tears to her eyes, and

as she brushed them away Shandy put his big golden head on her knee and

looked at her anxiously.



"Don't worry, boy, it's all right," she told him a little shakily.

"We'll go for our walk now."

A few days after that the neurosurgeon said cautiously that he thought

Jake could go home any time now, for he had been allowed to get out of

bed and move around, and there had been no regression in his

progress.

"Good," Jake said briskly. "It's about time I was back in my proper

place in this clinic. Not that Sister Maynard and her girls haven't

looked after me, but enough is enough."

"I didn't say anything about getting back to work," the older man said.

"We'll talk about that later. You still need to take things easy for a

bit-these head injuries are no joke."

"I know that," Jake agreed.

Alison walked to the lift with Dr. Schmidt and as she was going back

to the duty room Jake's bell rang. She went to the door of his room.

He smiled engagingly.

"I'll send in Staff Nurse Muller if you need anything," Alison told

him.

"I don't want Staff Nurse Muller. I want you," he said. "Sit down,

Alison."

"I'm on duty," Alison protested, but she knew very well that Jake was

aware how quiet the surgical floor was.

"Please," Jake said, and now he wasn't smiling. "I need to talk to

you, Alison."

She sat down, very conscious that she felt consider ably

unprofessional, with Jake's dark blue eyes holding her own.

"Alison, this isn't easy, but I have to say it," Jake said then

awkwardly. "The things I said to you-about you coming back from

Luderitz and setting out to come between David and Marta-I know now

that that isn't the way it was."

"I-tried to tell you, once," Alison murmured.

"I know," Jake replied. "And I wouldn't listen."

Alison took a deep breath.

"But so many of the things you said were still right , she said, with

difficulty.

Jake didn't deny that.

"I once told you you were too quick to judge people , he reminded her.

"I was the same, with this. And then that night of the party you were

so sad, and it was just more than I could take. Which is why I behaved

so badly."

Colour rose in Alison's cheeks at the thought of the way he had kissed



her-a kiss with no warmth, no tenderness.

"I wasn't sad because of David," she told him truthfully'I was sad

because of the way things had changed between you and me."

He took both of her hands in his.

"We've been foolish, haven't we, love?" he said.

Her heart turned over. He had never called her that before.

"Yes, we have" she agreed unsteadily.

He drew her towards him and his lips touched hers, gently, warmly. And

then "Damn it," he said "I can't kiss you properly like this!"

Purposefully' he got out of bed.

"I don't think you should-' Alison protested, and she stood up and

backed towards the door.

"Probably not," Jake agreed cheerfully.

"And I'm still on duty," she reminded him.

"So you are," he agreed.

He closed the door, and took her in his arms.

"This is a check on how complete my recovery is," he murmured.

He kissed her, his lips still gentle at first, and then urgent,

demanding, his arms imprisoning her. Alison, her heart thudding

unevenly, could do nothing but cling to him, her whole body responding

to his.

Slowly, he released her.

"Well, Sister Maynard," he murmured, his lips very close to hers, "how

would you rate my recovery?"

"Pretty much complete, Dr. Sheldon," Alison managed to reply before

his lips met hers again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TH ExE was nothing and no one in the whole world for Alison but Jake,

and the wonderful certainty that at last, at long last, all the

distance, all the doubts had gone, and she was in his arms.

At last, slowly, reluctantly, she freed herself.

"Jake," she said breathlessly, "I have to go; I have patients out there

who might be needing me."

"Not as much as this patient right here needs you," Jake told her with

assurance. "All right, I'll let you go-for now. '

He looked at her as she straightened her uniform, which was

unaccountably twisted and more than a little crushed.



"Your hair is rather mussed, Sister," he said, and there was laughter

in his dark blue eyes.

"Can't say the same for yours, Doctor," Alison returned.

Ruefully, he ran his hand over his head.

"What's your Scottish song? "The Campbells are Coming"? Well, so is

my hair; it just needs a little more time !"

She had just opened the door when he called her back.

"Only one thing, Alison-should we have the ring with agates instead of

diamonds?"

"The ring?" she asked weakly.

And suddenly he was uncertain, vulnerable, the laughter gone from his

eyes as they searched her face.

"You are going to marry me?" he said.

She went back to him, wordless for an endless time, until at last she

managed to murmur, not quite steadily, "Yes-oh, yes, Jake."

Two days after that Jake was discharged from the clinic: Matron, who

happened to have just finished a round on Alison's ward, accompanied

Alison and Dr. Schmidt to Jake's room.

"I want to see you in my rooms in a week, Jake," the neurosurgeon told

him. "I hear your folks are coming up for a few days around then-in

the meantime , are you going to manage?"

"Hans, you know yourself that I'm fine," Jake said impatiently.

"Anyway, I'll be all right-my fiancee will be staying with me; she'll

keep me in order."

Three pairs of eyes opened wide-Alison's, she thought later, perhaps

the widest of all.

"Your fiancee?" Matron said, recovering.

Jake nodded.

"Sister Maynard," he said, and she wasn't sure whether he sounded proud

or just smug-whichever, he was obviously enjoying the small sensation

he had caused.

"I always knew you just had to meet your match," Matron said, and

Alison was relieved to see the real warmth in her smile. "Naturally, I

knew that you and Sister Maynard were-quite close, especially after

your accident, but-well, congratulations to you both. I'm delighted.

'

When she and the neurosurgeon had gone, Alison turned to Jake.

"You might have warned me you were going to do that," she said.

"I wanted everyone to know," Jake said. "I want the whole world to



know!"

The whole world, as it turned out, did know within a few hours.

Certainly the world of the clinic, anyway. And anyone who might have

missed out would have seen, a few days later, the diamond ring on

Alison's left hand, for buying that had been one of the first things

Jake had insisted on doing when he was out of hospital.

There was so much to be said, so many things they hadn't been able to

say until now.

Jake told her about the girl he had loved long ago, the girl who had

hurt him so badly. Then he wanted to know when Alison had known that

her feelings for David had changed.

"I think I began to realise it quite soon after I got here," she said

slowly. "But I didn't want to admit it to myself, at first. I had

loved him for so long, you see. Or I thought I had. And then She

hesitated.

Jake waited, his eyes on her face.

,

"And then, she said, "it was something of a defence against you. '

"You needed that defence," Jake said, and it wasn't a question.

Alison smiled, remembering how she had fought against what she'd seen

as Jake's arrogant confidence, his girl-of-the-month attitude.

"I know," Jake agreed soberly when she said this. "I haven't really

much excuse for that, except-well, once bitten, from then on very, very

determined not to risk being bitten again. And-Alison, I never let any

girl think I was into anything long-term. Which I wasn't, until I met

you."

"And I certainly wasn't about to let you think I wanted anything

long-term from you," Alison said.

Jake smiled, the slow, warm smile that could make her heart turn

over.

"We were a couple of fools, weren't we?" he said, and he took her in

his arms.

Alison stayed on at Jake's house until his mother and father arrived.




"Just to look after you," she told him firmly.

"Of course," he replied.

By the time she moved back to her own flat she did feel that she could

relax about him. After the trauma of these first few days, his

recovery had been swift and without any of the complications that could

have arisen. Hans Schmidt expressed himself satisfied when Jake kept

his appointment at his rooms, and agreed, with some reluctance, that

Jake could go back to work in another week.

Alison was more than a little anxious about meeting his parents, but,

as Jake had once said to her would be the case, she and his mother got

on well right from the start. His father was an older version of Jake,

and he accepted and welcomed Alison immediately.

"If I could have gone out and chosen a girl for Jake it would have been

you. I liked the sound of you from the first time Jake mentioned you.

And, of course, your being Scottish just made everything perfect-Jake

will have told you that my grandmother was a Cameron from Lochearn,"

Meg Sheldon said to Alison. "To tell the truth, I was beginning to

give up on my son."

"Give up on the prospect of more grandchildren? Not you," her husband

said. "As soon as you phoned to tell us, Jake, she was wondering

whether the first one would be a girl or a boy."

"Give us time, Mum; we're not even married yet," Jake protested,

laughing.

"I'll give you time," his mother agreed serenely, "but not too long.

You know, Alison, he's actually very good with chlldren; you should see

him with Jill's two."

Alison was laughing too.

"I'll believe it," she replied. "I've seen him with Marta's little

girls, anyway."

The day before Jim and Meg Sheldon left, Ted Barton and his wife came

to Windhoek and took the Sheldons, and Jake and Alison, to one of the

old German hotels for dinner.

"Best Wiener schnitzels in Windhoek," Ted Barton said, and Alison

thought he was probably right.

She was glad to see Betty Barton-a little thinner, and still a little

pale after her chemotherapy, but undoubtedly recovering.

"You must be glad to have finished the chemotherapy ," Alison said to

her at the end of the evening.

"I certainly am," the older woman said. "I felt pretty awful at times

after treatment. But I knew I could get through it; I was just so

relieved there was a definite cause, and it wasn't Alzheimer's."

Jake's parents left the next day, with Meg Sheldon trying again to

persuade Jake to bring Alison to them in Cape Town for Christmas.

"No, Mum," Jake said. "Maybe next year. But I've been away from the



clinic too long; I don't want to take any more time off."

"But you'll be on your own, the two of you," his mother pointed out.

For a moment, Jake's eyes met Alison's.

"That's right, Mum," he agreed. "We'll be on our own. '

It would be a rather strange Christmas, Alison found herself thinking

as the hot, dry December days wore on. She had agreed to work on

Christmas Day because there were nurses with families and Jake said he

would be on call too.

There was no elective surgery in the few days before Christmas, but

Jake had an emergency appendectomy, and one of his gastric resection

patients had to be readmitted, with further surgical drainage

necessary. This patient was still having naso gastric suction on

Christmas Day, and Alison, checking the adjustment of the suction tube,

commiserated with him.

"Not a pleasant way to spend Christmas Day, Mr. Bauer," she said.

"Does that feel more comfortable now?"

Mr. Bauer nodded.

"But I can't even say I will make up for this when

I get out," he said. "Not that I mind that I have had to change my way

of eating; my wife says she likes i much better this new slimmer

husband!"

Jake looked in once or twice, but he was covering for David, and for

two of the other doctors as well, so he had his day fully accounted

for. He did manage to meet Alison in the staff dining room, where

there was a festive atmosphere, with Christmas decorations, at

lunchtime, although there were as few of the clinic staff as possible

there. " "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers " ,

Jake said, looking around at the almost empty dining room. "And

sisters," Alison pointed out, waving to Sister

Mtota from Women's Medical.

"And sisters," Jake agreed.

His bleeper went and he rose to go, giving Alison a quick kiss, to the

obvious delight of the kitchen staff.

They were both off duty at seven, although Jake would still be on call,

and after taking Shandy for a walk they had a cold Christmas dinner,

out on Jake's stoep, Alison having agreed, a little reluctantly, that

cold Black Forest ham with salad was a better idea on this hot December

evening than a traditional Christmas turkey.

She had got her mother to send a cashmere sweater for Jake, in the same

dark blue as his eyes, and he insisted on trying it on, in spite of the

heat.

"Perfect fit," Alison told him. "And there's enough of your hair to be

ruffled now!"



She smoothed the thick dark hair and he caught her hand in his, turning

it so that he could kiss the palm.

"Close your eyes," he told her, and he put a small parcel into her

hands.

She opened it, enjoying the anticipation. Jewellery,

she thought as she opened the long box.

It was a necklace, of heavy silver, with agates set into the silver.

"Oh, Jake, it's beautiful," she said unsteadily.

"One of the German jewellers made it," he told her. "He can't swear

that the agates come from our beach , mind, but I like to think they

do."

He clasped the necklace around her neck, his hands lingering on her

shoulders.

"Happy Christmas, my love," he said softly.

The threatening clouds that built up day after day, at this time of

year, disappeared completely on David and Marta's wedding day, and the

sky was clear and blue.

They were married in the German church just beside the Alte Fest, and

although it was a quiet wedding Jake was glad to see that quite a few

of the couple's friends were there.

He stood beside David, waiting, and when Marta came down the aisle on

her father's arm they both turned round.

Marta wore a simple short dress of cream silk, and she carried cream

and gold rosebuds. Behind her, their small faces pink with excitement,

walked Trudy and Brigitte, Trudy aware of the solemnity of the

occasion, Brigitte glancing around to make sure she didn't miss

anything. Jake saw her wave to Alison, and Alison smile back.

For a moment her eyes met his, and he knew that they were sharing the

thought that soon it would be them getting married.

When the ceremony was over, the wedding party and the guests walked

across the road to the wide stoep of the Alte Fest for a wedding

breakfast. There was champagne, and the toasts were drunk, the

speeches made-more in German than in English, Jake observed, but David

didn't seem to mind. Then it was time for David and Marta to leave,

and the guests lined up to wish them well.

Jake, talking to Marta's mother, saw David pause for a moment beside

Alison. For a moment, they looked at each other steadily, the

fair-haired Scots doctor and the girl with the short, gleaming cap of

hair. Alison's clear grey eyes looked into David's hazel eyes, and

then she smiled and hugged him. Over his shoulders she saw Jake

watching and her smile was for him too.

A little later, when Jake managed to reach her, he said to her, "Are

you all right?"



"Yes, I'm all right. David and I-just for a moment, we

She hesitated.

"You were thinking about Cathy," Jake said, and it wasn't a question.

"It would be a mighty strange thing if David didn't spare a thought for

her today. Marta wouldn't mind that."

"I know," Alison replied. "I've sometimes thought that Cathy would

have liked Marta, and-that's a good thought, isn't it?"

"It is, love," Jake agreed.

There was no need then, and no time, to say any more, for Alison had to

bend down to comfort a tearful Brigitte, who was crying with such force

that it was impossible to make sense of the sobbed words.

"What's wrong with her?" Jake asked Trudy as the smaller girl's sobs

began tu die down, Brigitte allowing herself to be quietened in

Alison's arms.

"She wanted to go on the honeymoon with Mummy and David," Trudy

explained. "We all told her people don't go on honeymoons with other

people-she's known that all the time-but she thought they would change

their minds."

There was a final theatrical sigh from Brigitte as Alison took the

hanky Jake handed her and dried her small face.

"You girls are going off with your grandparents to the farm for a few

days, aren't you?" Jake said. "I know you like it there. '

Two fair heads nodded.

"I did tell Brigitte that," Trudy said. "But she just wanted to cry."

,

"Yes, I can see that, Alison agreed, and there was no doubt, Jake could

see, that now that the tears were over Brigitte seemed to be quite

cheerful.

Alison straightened up.

"Do you know what ladies do when they've been crying?" she said to the

two little girls. "They go off to the powder room and they splash cold

water on their faces, and then they powder their noses. Want to come

with me to do that?"

"Real powder?" Brigitte asked. "From your handbag?"

"Real powder," Alison assured her.

She held out a hand to each of the children and the three of them went

off. Jake, watching them, had the sudden and heart-stopping thought

that in a few years it could be their own children holding Alison's

hands, just like that.

He had always been amused at his mother thinking of her future

grandchildren. Now, all at once, he found it was a thought he rather



liked. A thought he very much looked forward to sharing with Alison.

The Big Rains came in earnest at the end of 3anuary, and Alison, used

to soft and steady Scottish rain, could hardly believe it when the

thunder and lightning would be followed by the heavens opening.

The dry riverbeds filled, and the dips people normally drove through

became raging torrents. A few unwary visitors had their cars swept

against the side of the road and had to abandon them.

Once Alison and Jake, out with Shandy, misjudged the approaching

clouds, and although they ran for the car they were all soaked. Alison

couldn't believe at first, as the rain fell in a torrent, that the next

day would dawn clear and bright and very hot. But gradually she got

used to it, and even welcomed the rain when it came.

"I would never have believed I would think rain was a good thing," she

said to Jake one day, when they drove out into the Khomas Hochland for

a breakfast picnic-it had to be a breakfast one, Alison knew, because

the rest of the day would be too hot. "But look at the veld; it's

green now."

"And the dams are almost full," Jake said. "And I promise you, when

it's winter, and we have months of completely dry weather, you'll be

glad again that we had such good rains."

He stopped the car, once again close to the Ghost House, and they got

out, Shandy bounding ahead of them.

Jake took Alison's hand and swung it lightly in his.

"And what are we doing talking about the weather, you and I?" he said,

laughter in his blue eyes.

He took her in his arms and kissed her, his lips warm on hers.

"We'd better have our breakfast picnic now," he murmured after a long

and satisfactory time, "before things get too hot. And I'm not

referring to the weather!"

Alison unpacked the Brotchen, hard-boiled eggs and cold sausage, and

poured coffee. Shandy had his biscuits , and Iay down in the shade

that was already welcome.

"Can you believe that next week we'll be married?" Alison said

wonderingly.

"You bet I can," Jake returned, also lying down, and putting his arm

qround Alison to draw her down beside him. He turned his head to look

at her.

"Sure you don't want to change your mind about the arrangements? We

could fly to Edinburgh, get married there, and have a honeymoon in

Scotland."

Alison laughed.

"Jake, darling, Scotland in February isn't the most ideal place to have

a honeymoon. No, we'll get married quietly here, and we'll have our

week in Swakopmund in Ted Barton's holiday flat, then we'll go to



Scotland in June, when we have a sporting chance of good weather. My

mother is having great fun planning a wedding party for then-remember,

I have warned you about the number of relatives I have. You'll meet

uncles and aunts, and cousins, and second cousins, and

His lips on hers stopped her.

"And I'll enjoy every bit of it," he assured her. Then he leaned on

one elbow and looked down at her. "Alison," he said, serious now,

"Windhoek is so different from Scotland. Going back to Edinburgh-will

that make it difficult for you to come back here?"

It was something Alison had thought about, many times. " ,

I'll always miss Scotland, Jake, she said honestly. "And I do miss my

folks. But they've promised to come g out here on holiday, and we'll o

back, and She broke off and looked at him, this man who was all the

world to her. Most of the time he was confident and sure of himself,

sure of his place in the world. But she knew now that a great deal of

his confidence and his certainty was rooted in her, in their love for

each other. It showed, just occasionally, in a moment of uncertainty

like this.

"And most of all," she said steadily, "whether we're in Windhoek or in

Timbuktu, wherever we are together, that's my home."

She took his face between her hands and kissed him, and she knew that

their kiss held the promise of all the tomorrows they would share.




elisabeth scott - the disturbing dr. sheldon

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