the great man as usual.
Millie tried not to catch his eye as she tagged on to the end of the train that went from bed to bed. She was too mortified to face him. What on earth must he think of her, after the last time they’d met? Not a lot, apparently; everyone knew no girl was safe from William Tremayne, yet he’d turned her down flat.
At every bed Mr Cooper paused to study the notes as Sister Wren rushed around pulling the screens around the patient. He would then ask the patient how they were feeling, and question the registrars and housemen about their treatment. Occasionally he would pounce on an unsuspecting medical student and ask them how they would proceed with the treatment. If the patient’s condition were very serious, they would move discreetly away from the end of the bed to discuss it out of their earshot. Millie always wondered how this was any more reassuring than telling them the facts, since they immediately knew that they were doomed.
William sidled up to her while Mr Cooper was quizzing a medical student about the appropriate surgical treatment for fibroids.
‘Hello again,’ he whispered. ‘How are you feeling today? I don’t know about you, but I woke up yesterday with a hellish hangover.’
Millie ignored him, her eyes fixed on Mr Cooper.
‘And if the haemoglobin level is below forty per cent, would you still advise proceeding with surgery?’ he was asking the furiously blushing student.
‘Are you not speaking to me?’ William looked hurt.
‘I don’t want to get into any more trouble,’ she hissed out of the corner of her mouth.
‘I certainly wouldn’t want to get you into any,’ he agreed solemnly. ‘But, you see, I still have your shoes and I would like to return them to you.’
Millie shot him a panicked look as Mr Cooper turned to address the group. ‘Quite right,’ he said, his powerful voice carrying across the ward. ‘In such cases surgery would carry an increased risk of post-operative complications such as embolism or femoral thrombosis. But fortunately your haemoglobin levels are perfect, are they not, Mrs Chattis?’ He bestowed one of his dazzling movie star smiles on the patient, who simpered as if he’d just paid her a wonderful compliment.
‘Leave them at the porters’ lodge,’ Millie whispered.
‘And start the whole hospital gossiping about why I have them?’ William looked amused.
Millie thought about it for a moment. Perhaps that wasn’t such a good idea. ‘Meet me in the courtyard at six o’clock.’
He was there waiting for her, sitting on a bench under the plane trees when she arrived a few minutes after her duty finished.
‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ he said.
‘Do you have my shoes?’
He handed them over, and she started to walk away.
‘Wait,’ he called after her. ‘Is that it?’ He sounded disappointed.
Millie looked back over her shoulder at him. ‘Was there something else you wanted?’
‘I don’t know . . .’ He looked awkward. ‘I thought you might . . . you know . . . want to talk about the other night?’
‘Definitely not.’ Millie stared at the shoes in her hand. ‘In fact, I would prefer it if that night hadn’t happened.’
‘Oh. Right. I see.’ William looked deflated.
‘You do know your sister reported me, don’t you?’
He frowned. ‘Helen wouldn’t do that.’
‘She told you to stay away from me, didn’t she?’
‘Only because she wanted to protect you from me.’ William smiled sheepishly.
‘And I suppose she was trying to protect Peggy Gibson, too?’
He went very still. He had the same blank look on his face that Helen had done when Millie mentioned the name. ‘What do you know about her?’ he asked quietly.
‘I know your sister got her dismissed from this hospital. Over a bottle of gin, wasn’t it?’ She curled her lip. ‘I bet Helen was very proud of herself for that.’
‘It wasn’t Helen’s fault. Peggy broke the rules—’
‘Everyone breaks the rules sometimes. But we don’t tell on each other. We’re supposed to help each other, not stab one another in the back.’
‘Helen tried to help Peggy.’
‘Gosh, she’s terribly helpful, isn’t she? She tried to help Peggy and she gets thrown out, then she tries to protect me and I almost get dismissed too. She’s all heart, I’d say.’
William stood up, towering over her. His dark hair still sprouted upwards, defying his attempts to flatten it. ‘Look, it wasn’t like that. Helen really did care for Peggy. And it wasn’t just a bottle of gin that got her thrown out, it was . . .’
‘Go on,’