Doctor Knows Best Read Free

like cleared up, mostly concerning the procedures you have here in this casualty department.” He paused and looked at her expectantly.
    Megan shifted her weight from one foot to the other uneasily. She didn’t relish the thought of suffering an uncomfortable lunch hour with Giles Elliott. She always regarded her lunch-break as sacrosanct, the one time in the day when she could relax properly. The last thing she wanted was to be bombarded with questions about the casualty department while having her lunch.
    â€œI would be extremely grateful, Sister. We’ll go now, shall we?” Put like that there wasn’t much she could do about it!
    Dominating male, thought Megan irritably, straightening the sides of her uniform self-consciously as Giles Elliott flashed her the same devastating smile that had unnerved her the evening before. Expecting me to jump to attention at his slightest whim she thought, although nevertheless she found herself involuntarily smiling back at him.
    â€œThat’s better,” he said with a laugh when she smiled. “At least I can imagine you are enjoying lunch with me, even if in reality you are thinking what a bore it is to be asked questions.”
    â€œOh no, I wasn’t thinking that at all,” said Megan hastily. Liar, she said to herself silently as they made their way through the maze of long corridors towards the canteen.
    It was late, nearly two o’clock, so all the hot food had gone. The choice was extremely limited; pork pie and salad or chicken and salad. They both chose chicken, even though Megan knew from past experience that the chicken would almost certainly be as tough as old boots.
    â€œI wonder if the chicken here is any better than at my last hospital,” he remarked as they took their seats at an empty table by the window.
    â€œI sincerely doubt it,” replied Megan truthfully with a laugh. “I must warn you that it is usually quite a challenge to the digestive system. It never fails to amaze me how chicken can be turned into something with the texture of leather.”
    â€œIt takes years of practice as a hospital cook,” he replied, echoing her laugh.
    Actually, Megan enjoyed her lunch more than she had anticipated. The conversation flowed easily and apart from giving him the low-down on Casualty she also found out a little about him. He had been a senior lecturer in a large London teaching hospital, but had decided to switch from an academic career to a clinical one, and for that reason had moved out of London.
    â€œI missed the daily contact with patients,” he said. His father had been a Harley Street consultant he told her, and he still had the family house in Cheyne Walk, although his father had died. So I wasn’t so far out about you, Megan thought with satisfaction. I knew you had that expensive air about you.
    â€œWouldn’t you prefer to do the same as your father?” she asked. “It’s very hard work here, for not nearly as much money.”
    â€œI know that,” came his reply. “I don’t need the money, and I certainly don’t need the private medicine.” There had been a finality about his tone of voice that precluded her from asking any further questions.
    It was as they left the canteen that Megan’s brother Richard came hurrying by. He was a third-year medical student and had just started the clinical part of his training. “Hi, Megan,” he shouted as he zoomed past, white coat flying out untidily behind him, “Don’t forget our date—eight o’clock tonight. Hope your wrist is OK.”
    Megan laughed. I hadn’t forgotten,” she replied. She was about to inform Giles Elliott that she had been roped into the medical student’s Christmas revue, but the words got stuck in her throat when she saw the very disapproving look on his face.
    â€œHe is a little young, isn’t he?” he snapped.
    â€œYoung?” echoed Megan in