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history?'
    'God, Ziggy and I never talked about things like that.' Pagan gave Sophie a disappointed stare. 'It's not as if he's going to have anything to do with the baby.' She grinned again. 'Mind; you, he said it had been a blast and if I ever wanted another kid to give him a bell. No,' Pagan finished decisively. 'No tests. I want a natural pregnancy and a natural birth. A very special birth.'
    Sophie cleared her throat, hoping that the prickle of alarm she felt was unfounded. 'Just what did you have in mind for the birth, Pagan?'
    'A beach, of course,' Pagan replied kindly. 'I thought you understood. Water signs and all that, you know?'
    'A beach?'
    'Well, not exactly .' Pagan leaned forward. 'I really mean the sea.'
     
    'Apparently, the surf will speed up contractions. Her faith healer is all in favour of it.' Sophie finally sipped at her mug of coffee as she finished her tale of woe. 'What on earth am I going to do, Oliver?'
    Oliver Spencer was smiling broadly. Sophie could see the delight in the way the lines around his eyes crinkled, the rather lopsided tilt to his mouth and the way his head tipped back a little as he ran long fingers through the waves of dark hair. She blinked, disconcerted at her easy recognition of Oliver's response. She had only known the man for three months but she could predict exactly the supportive comment he was about to make.
    'It's early days,' Oliver said cheerfully. 'You'll talk her out of it.'
    'I think I should hand her over to you. You're my supervisor after all. GP registrars are supposed to hand over the really tricky cases.'
    'Not at all.' Oliver sat back, looking totally relaxed. His shirtsleeves were still rolled up and his tie knotted only loosely around his neck. They were both sitting in the staffroom at the back of the house. Originally the kitchen and dining room of a family home, the dividing wall had been knocked out, making a spacious area with comfortable couches and a dining table. The kitchen facilities had been kept, along with an extra refrigerator to house drugs and specimens that needed to be kept cool. Sophie wondered if Mr Collins's jam jar was hiding in the fridge.
    'It's my responsibility to provide guidance. To make sure you have the facilities and support you need and to be available to bail you out when you have real problems. Have I ever let you down?'
    'No.' Sophie's smile reflected very genuine gratitude. Oliver Spencer had been wonderful. Too wonderful. He had been welcoming, totally supportive and generous with his time and cheerful enthusiasm as he oversaw her training. His appreciation of Sophie might have been disconcerting at first but she had become used to it surprisingly quickly. At what point had she started wanting to respond? Sophie squashed the dangerous line of thought.
    'Besides...' Oliver's mouth twitched '...Pagan Ellis is quite right.'
    'What?' Sophie's eyes widened dramatically.
    'You've got the right aura.' Oliver was smiling but there was a glint in his eyes that gave Sophie a now familiar internal twinge. 'I knew it all along, of course, but it's nice to have it confirmed by an expert.'
    Janet Muir bustled into the staffroom, carrying a small carton. 'They've finally arrived,' she announced. 'And not a minute too soon. I've got at least twenty people coming in for flu shots this afternoon.' She threw open the door of the storage fridge. 'Och,' she exclaimed in disgust. 'What is that?'
    'Is it in a jam jar?' Oliver queried calmly.
    'Aye.' Janet was staring intently into the interior of the fridge.
    'Don't ask, then,' Oliver advised. 'Unless you really want to find out.'
    'I don't think I do.' Janet began unloading her carton. 'It's put me right off my lunch already.' She glanced up. 'Have you had lunch, Sophie?'
    'I'm just having coffee. I got way behind, thanks to my first consultation, and I'm still trying to catch up.'
    'How was your weekend?'
    'Great, thanks.' Sophie could feel the ring constricting her finger again. 'How was