course—if only to ensure that you get here on time,’ he murmured.
Megan felt a flush of pink colour rise in her cheeks. ‘Well, yes, that too, it goes without saying. I’ve made enquiries at various agencies, but so far they haven’t come up with anything that fits the bill.’
He was thoughtful for a moment, and then said, ‘It depends what you’re looking for, of course, but I do know of a place that might suit you. It’s about half a mile from here, a one-bedroomed flat, in a house that has been split into four self-contained units. Some work was being done on it, but I think it might be available soon if you want to go and have a look at it.’
She nodded. ‘I would, yes.’ She was surprised that he was taking an interest, but, then, he had pointed out an ulterior motive, hadn’t he? It wasn’t far from the hospital and that would ensure her being on time. ‘Who do I have to see about keys?’
‘Go down to the hospital’s accommodation office, and Mrs Carter will sort things out for you. She’s the one who sees to arrangements of that sort.’
‘Thank you. I will.’
He looked at her sharply. ‘Don’t thank me. I simply want to be sure that you have no excuse not to do your job properly. I already have misgivings about accepting my colleague’s judgement where you’re concerned. It was only that your qualifications and your references seemed to justify his faith in you. Make sure that you don’t let him down.’
Sparks flared in her blue eyes. ‘I won’t.’ The insinuation that she might do less than her best annoyed her. ‘I always work to the best of my ability.’
‘Let’s hope so. I shall be watching you, Dr Llewellyn.’
She had no doubts about that, and she winced inwardly once more at the prospect. He’d made it plain enough that he would be a thorn in her side for the next six months!
CHAPTER TWO
MEGAN was determined not put a foot wrong the next day. She didn’t want to give Sam Benedict any more opportunity to find fault with her, and so she spent the morning working on routine tasks assigned to her, following up queries on patients’ notes and organising treatment schedules. That way she managed to keep a low profile and stay out of his way.
She couldn’t avoid him for ever, though. In the afternoon, when they assembled in his office after lunch, he homed in on her and said, ‘What’s happening with those files you were working on? How far have you got with them?’
Her heart sank. Was he expecting her to have finished them by now? She would have liked a little more time, but his grey gaze flickered over her, giving her no room to manoeuvre.
‘I’ve managed to get a good two-thirds of the way through,’ she answered cautiously, trying to inject a positive note into her voice. ‘It shouldn’t take me too long to finish the rest.’
He grimaced. ‘You’d better leave them for now. I want you and Dr Jones and Dr Morgan to work with me this afternoon.’
She had failed again. He turned to Julie Neville, the beautiful blonde, who was doing her best to ensure that she was standing by his side. ‘Dr Neville,’ he said with a smile, ‘you will be working with Dr Sanderson. Some of his patients might be of special interest to you, given your background of experience with women and postnatal depression.’
Julie tried not to show her disappointment. ‘If you think that’s best,’ she murmured doubtfully.
‘I do.’
‘Very well.’ Since there was very little she could object to in the arrangement, she withdrew gracefully enough from the group. ‘I’ll come and find you at the end of the day and let you know how it went.’
‘That’s a good idea.’
Julie retreated to go off in search of Will Sanderson, and Sam Benedict turned to the rest of them.
‘We’re going to spend the next couple of hours in the children’s unit,’ he said. ‘I’m hoping that you’ll find it a useful experience.’ He looked at them to see if anyone might venture to disagree. Since no one did, he waved a hand towards the door. ‘Well, then, if you would like to follow me…’
He led the way along the corridor and through double doors which opened up into a bright, cheerful area where big yellow footprints trailed across the floor towards a children’s playroom. Megan looked up and saw that there were big, fluffy, painted white clouds dangling from the blue ceiling.
‘There’s an observation lounge through here, where we can look in on a play session,’ he remarked. ‘I think you’ll find it interesting.’
He stood to one side, waiting as they all filed into the room, and then he pointed out a large glass view panel. ‘The glass window is a special one,’ he commented. ‘You can see into the room, but no one in there can see you.’
Megan looked through the panel into the playroom beyond. A little boy was walking around, looking at all the toys and games that had been set out on tables and shelves. He was grimacing, moving jerkily and kicking out at the tables as he passed them by. A woman, presumably a therapist, was pointing out various activities to him, though he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to what she was saying.
‘I want you to watch what is happening in there and tell me if you come to any conclusions,’ Dr Benedict said, handing out copies of the child’s case notes. ‘Matthew is six years old, and his mother is becoming quite concerned about his behaviour. He takes little notice of what she tells him, and she is increasingly worried about his habit of pulling faces and making odd gestures. There are problems at school, too. According to his teachers, he isn’t making progress in quite the way that they might have expected, and they feel that he can sometimes be disruptive and inattentive, and answer questions with inappropriate or nonsensical remarks.’
He showed them where they could stand and watch the proceedings. Megan stood to one side of the view panel, ignoring the case notes for a moment while she watched the little boy work his way around the room.
At this moment he appeared more confident and was rushing around from one table to another, but then he stopped and sat down, seeming to be momentarily unsure of himself. The therapist spoke to him but he didn’t appear to be taking much notice of what she was saying. After a minute or two, though, he suddenly stood up and swerved away from her and swooped on a table where soft toys had been set out. He picked them up one by one and danced them round the table.
It wasn’t long before he lost interest in that exercise, too, and turned to see what else there was for him to do.
At the side of the room, a jigsaw caught his attention. He began to chuckle and gathered the pieces up in his hands, dropping them like a shower of confetti on to the table so that some of them fell to the floor. Then he sat down and simply stared at them until the therapist came to stand beside him.
She spoke to him but once again he ignored her and after a moment or two he began to pick at his clothes in an odd fashion, before continuing to study the pieces on the table.
Megan briefly turned her head towards Sam Benedict and asked quietly, ‘Has he been here before? Is the room familiar to him?’
He shook his head. ‘No, this is his first visit.’
They watched him for a few minutes more, and then Sam looked at David Jones and James Morgan and asked, ‘What do you think? Any suggestions as to what might be his problem?’
‘I think it’s probably a case of attention deficit disorder,’ Dr Jones said confidently. ‘He totally ignored what the therapist was saying to him at one point.’ He was a young man with a shock of fair hair that tumbled over his forehead and caused him to push it back from time to time.
‘And possibly hyperactivity as well,’ Dr Morgan added, rubbing a hand thoughtfully over his jaw. ‘He seems excitable at times, with all that rushing about, and then at others he