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really unappealing. Mr Galvan wouldn't recognise the girl from the car park in a month of Sundays. Even James would do a double take.
    'Better hide this,' she muttered to herself, unfastening her name badge and slipping it into her pocket. 'I'll say my name's Jane, plain Jane. No, that won't work because Jane's such a pretty name. I'll be Gertie . Nurse Gertie. Gertie the Dragon.
    There was a poor little nurse weeping on the landing, a small slip of a thing in a stained white uniform.
    Prudently allowing time for the surgeon to cool down, Kate decided her first priority should be to check out this unfamiliar territory with its immaculate carpets and huge pots of greenery that looked as the leaves got a polish every morning along with the rest of the Wing. More like a hotel than a hospital. It was impressive. No doubt about that.
    The entire wing had been refurbished at vast expense by the private hospital group which—after much deliberation—St Crispin's had brought in to manage its NHS pay beds.
    From this upper floor Kate could see the great medieval cathedral crowning the steep hill and dominating the city. It was a wonderful sight, high above them, lit by the sun. But this was no time to be admiring the view. Next Kate checked out the pristine kitchen. There was milk in the fridge but she daren't stay long enough to make a cup of tea.
    A nurse emerged briefly from Room 30 but scuttled into 29 as if afraid of getting mixed up in someone else's problem.
    I never even had time to say cheerio to Simon and Mike and the rest of the team,' she thought regretfully, feeling very much the stranger yet again
    Ah well, time to beard the lion in den 27. He should have cooled off by now. I'll bet he's regretting that unkind carry-on.
    Yes, decided Kate, squinting out of the window at the far end to see if she could get a glimpse of the path labs where James would be working. Yes, I bet if I walk in there without knocking, catch Mr Galvan offguard with his defences down … There he'll be, sitting by the window in his dressing gown, a rug over his knees, his features wan and drawn, the scars on his handsome face vivid against the pallor. Drumming restless fingers on the chair arms and hating himself—the anguish in his eyes as he asks himself Why am Í behaving like this? Somebody—help me . And in answer I'll whisper, I will. Here I am!
    A nurse bustled past brandishing a bedpan. 'You got No. 27?—and the best of luck!' she hissed, grimacing from the door of the sluice.
    Kate's stomach gurgled in alarm. She squared her shoulders and with a determined finger jabbed the thick-framed spectacles back into place. The prescription lenses were hopelessly strong. Maybe this wasn't such a genius idea.  
    Her white face adopted the now-we're-going-to-behave-ourselves-aren't-we expression perfected five minutes ago in the staff lavatory. She knocked on his door and before her nerve could go AWOL launched herself over the threshold of Room 27—stepping squelch on top of a soft-fried egg which had landed sunny-side up on the smart new carpet.
    The man in the bed grinned. A medical textbook with a broken spine had landed on a rasher of bacon. Shards of china crunched beneath her sturdy laced shoes. 'Ugh!' exclaimed Kate, hopping on one leg, squinting through her glasses at congealed yellow yolk embedded in her ridged crêpe sole.
    'Feel free to use my bathroom,' offered her patient, making no attempt to conceal his amusement, 'you're the funniest sight I've seen all week.' His left arm was out of action, encased in plaster of Paris. With the pen in his right hand he gestured towards an open door to starboard.
    Kate bit back the first words that came to mind and limped across the nice blue carpet into the bathroom. Wiping her shoe clean she glared through the half-open door at the man in the bed, annoyed with herself for making such an undignified entrance and boiling with outrage at the mess he had made and which she was going to have to