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'I'm everywhere you turn,' he said smoothly, finishing the sentence for her, and before she could reply he was going to the door to call in the next patient.

As those who sought his attention came and went, Fenella saw that the efficiency she'd expected of him was there. He was briskly precise, yet gentle with those who were nervous and afraid of what he might tell them, and in contrast had a no-nonsense approach for the would-be malingerers.

Fenella was beginning to feel ashamed for being so hostile towards him. She was aware that both their attitudes were connected with the circumstances of their meeting and she needed to put it to the back of her mind and concentrate on the chance she'd been given to work with a clever and caring GP.

As was to be expected of any general practice, there had been an assortment of people coming through the doors on that Tuesday morning and, anxious to show that she was keen and able, Fenella had taken note of every aspect of each consultation.

There had been the golfer with a badly swollen ankle who'd fallen into a bunker while playing a round on Sunday afternoon. Max had sent him to A and E to have it X-rayed in case there was a fracture.

He'd been followed by a mother with a child who'd looked as if he might be the second case of mumps to be brought to their notice. He had the same symptoms as Callum Copley.

And so it went on, with a smart, elderly woman called Megan Oliver appearing before them. It seemed that Max had been treating her during the last few weeks for all the symptoms of a severe allergy. But antibiotics and a nebuliser had done nothing to stop the patient's distress in the form of a continually running nose, dry chesty cough and a burning sensation in her throat and chest.

'I'm exhausted,' she wheezed as she settled herself opposite the two doctors. 'I've always been subject to mild hay fever but never like this. I just can't stop coughing. Yet I don't bring anything up off my chest.'

Max nodded.

'Yes, your chest is clear. But something has got you in its grip, Megan. I don't think it's hay fever. It is beginning to look more like asthma. Are you particularly stressed about anything?'

Megan sighed. 'Yes. I suppose I am. New people have moved in next door to me and they are very intrusive. There is music blaring away until all hours. The children are noisy and badly behaved. They broke one of the windows in my garage with their football, though the parents did apologise and had it replaced. But I'm on edge all the time, wondering what they're going to do next. Jack Meadows used to live next door to me and he was a wonderful neighbour, quiet, respectable, kept himself to himself. But when he died the house was sold and this disruptive family moved in.'

Max listened patiently to what she had to say.

'That could have something to do with it. Stress can bring on asthma. I'm going to see if we can sort you out with one big blast of steroids,' he told her. 'A large dose of prednisolone taken over just a few hours and we'll see if it will clear up the problem.'

His patient didn't look too happy about that.

'I thought that it was dangerous to be on steroids and come off them suddenly. My sister was on them once and she had to carry a card round with her in case she was taken ill or had an accident, so that her dosage could be continued. Otherwise she could have died if she was taken off them suddenly.'

'That
is
the case if the person has been on long-term usage of the drug,' he explained, 'but it can also be given in just one large dose without harmful effects. So we'll see what it will do for
you.
The prednisolone won't make your neighbours any easier to live with, but it might make you feel less stressed by them.'

Max printed out and signed a prescription for prednisolone and handed it to Megan with a reassuring smile. 'I want to see you again in a week's time. By then the steroids will have taken effect and you should be feeling better. If the football keeps coming over the fence, maybe a gentle reminder that there's a playing field at the end of your road might have some effect.'

When she'd gone, clutching the prescription, Max said, 'That was a prime example of the generation gap, I'm afraid. Megan Oliver's description of her previous neighbour was very accurate. Maybe Jack Meadows was
too
quiet. Once she has adjusted to having some young ones around the place Megan might begin to see this new family in a different light. The parents accepted their responsibility for the broken window, which was a step in the right direction. No doubt we'll be making their acquaintance sooner or later, though they haven't registered with the practice yet.'

'So you have the monopoly, then?' Fenella asked. 'Is there no other practice in the area?'

'I wouldn't exactly describe it as a monopoly,' he said dryly. 'The public can register with whichever doctor they prefer, providing they will take them on. This
is
the only practice in the village, but there is another one a couple of miles away.'

It was the first time she'd spoken, Fenella thought, and it seemed that she might have said the wrong thing.. .again.

Of all the people visiting the surgery that morning the one who caught her attention the most was Damien Forrester, the owner of Nostalgics, the antique shop at the other end of the village.

She'd seen the shop when she'd been home on vacation and had occasionally stopped to glance at the window display, but hadn't met its owner until today. He was small, chubby, looked as if he was in his fifties, and was led into Max's consulting room by a guide dog.

As he groped his way to a chair Fenella rose to her feet to assist him, but Max shook his head and waved her back down again as he greeted the blind man.

'Good morning, Damien,' he said, and before he could explain that he had Fenella with him the other man said, 'You're not alone, are you?'

'No, I'm not,' Max had told him. 'I have Dr Forbes with me. She has joined the practice as from today. You don't mind her being in on our consultation, do you?'

'Is she any relation to Ann Forbes who works here?' he asked.

'Yes. She is my mother,' Fenella told him.

'I remember selling Ann a nice piece of Chippendale before I became a useless member of the community,' he said flatly, and it was only then that she realised who he was.

He went on to say in the same tone, 'I would prefer to see you alone, if you don't mind, Dr Hollister.' And at a nod from Max, Fenella left the room.

When he'd gone and she'd returned to her position beside Max, Fenella asked, 'How long has Damien Forrester been blind and how can he run an antique shop without being able to see?'

'He and his wife live above the shop and one night it was burgled by two men,' Max explained. 'Damien received a heavy blow to the head, which damaged the optic nerves and he ended up losing his sight. So now his wife, Alma, runs the shop and poor old Damien gives what help he can, which is not easy, as you can imagine. I've been treating him for depression ever since.'

'And is that what he came for this morning?'

'Yes. Damien has felt very much disadvantaged since he became blind, which is perfectly understandable, and couldn't face a stranger being present during his consultation with me, even though it was only for a repeat prescription.'

When at last the waiting room was empty, Max turned to Fenella. 'So. How has your first morning gone?'

'Fine,' she told him. 'It was interesting and challenging. What comes next?'

He was getting up out of the chair behind the desk and stretching cramped muscles. 'House calls, a quick lunch, then for me a session with Ann to go over the accounts, which will give
you
time to get to know the rest of the staff and find out how they function. After that we have the late afternoon surgery, by which time you will probably be sagging at the knees.'

He saw her shudder and asked, 'What's wrong?'

'Sorry. It was just the phrase "sagging at the knees." That's how I was on Friday night. I could feel myself drifting off into some sort of limbo and couldn't do anything about it. I've told Julie she can go to those sorts of places on her own in future.'

'But you did, didn't you?'

'What?'

'Do something about it. Which resulted in me being called out at some ungodly hour.'

'Is that why you were so abrupt with me yesterday?'

'No, not at all. I was snappy with you because I can't bear to see young folk at risk, especially when they are of the opposite sex.'

'I'm not exactly a teenager,' she protested. 'I'm twenty- five, going on twenty-six, and can assure you that I won't be wilting before the day is out.'

'Huh! We'll see,' he said with a dry smile. Reaching down his jacket from a hook behind the desk, he beckoned for her to lead the way into Reception, where a list of the calls he had to make was waiting for him on the counter.

'Can I ask you something?' she said as he drove out onto the road that led to the centre of the village.

'Yes, of course, but don't be too sure that you'll get an answer. It depends on what it is.'

'What made you get involved in the police surgeon side of medicine?'

'There were a few reasons,' he told her, concealing his surprise, 'but the main one was that before I decided to go into general practice I had ambitions of becoming a pathologist.'

'And why didn't you?'

'I had a young brother who needed me around, so I decided that at the village practice he would always know where to find me. I wouldn't be far away from the house and when I'd finished here for the day I could have a meal on the table by the time Will had finished his homework.

'Whereas if I'd gone into pathology I might have ended up being hospital based, or freelancing all over the place, which would have done nothing for the sense of security of a kid who'd lost his parents within a short time of each other. Does that satisfy you?'

'Yes,' she told him, and thought illogically that he might not be the most approachable man she'd ever met, but she would like to bet that Max Hollister would never let down those he loved, and would be a good friend to those he took to. So far she couldn't see herself being added to the list.

'I need to call back at my place before we get bogged down with the home visits,' he said, turning off down a leafy lane. 'I left some paperwork behind when I came out this morning and
I
'm going to need it before the day is out. It won't take long. OK?'

'Er...yes...of course,' she replied, with the feeling that she was hardly in a position to say otherwise. 'My mother says that you live in a converted barn that is quite something.'

He smiled. 'I don't know about that, but it suits me. Maybe you'd like to come in for a quick look round after Ann gave you such a glowing description.'

'Yes, I would,' she said without hesitation. 'I like looking around other people's houses. Ours is quaint, with fantastic views, but it is a bit decrepit.'

When Max had unlocked the front door he beckoned for her to follow him into a large hallway and then stood to one side as she looked around her. The carpet was cream, the walls pale gold, and an old settle made from glowing walnut stood alongside one wall. Above it was an oil painting of a striking moorland scene and further along horse brasses shone.

'Well?' he asked.

'Lovely! If the rest of the house is like this, it must be heaven living here.'

'It's pleasant,' he conceded with a dry smile, 'but a bit big for just the two of us. When my brother's away it is as well that I have so little time to brood.'

He wasn't going to tell his new assistant that a home was the people who lived and loved in it. Not bricks and mortar or tasteful furnishings. She might think he was whingeing.

This place could have been filled with the children he longed for if the woman he'd been going to marry had understood his responsibilities to his young brother. But Sonya hadn't wanted any encumbrances at the start of their marriage and he hadn't been prepared to give way on the matter. So the relationship had foundered and he'd never been attracted to anyone since.

Surely this self-contained, efficient doctor wasn't lonely, Fenella was thinking. It sounded like it, but why? He was the most physically attractive man she'd ever met, so maybe it was his manner that kept her own sex on the sidelines.

'Do you want a lightning tour of the house?' he was asking. Bringing her thoughts back to the moment, she nodded. 'Yes, if you don't think I'm being too nosy.'

'Not at all. I've never had a woman's opinion of my residence before. I think we can allow ourselves a few moments before we sally forth to confront the sick and suffering of the parish.'

Max was opening a door at the end of the hallway and beckoning for her to go through, and as they wandered from room to room Fenella saw that the rest of the house was just as attractive as that first glimpse.

She didn't linger in the master bedroom because she was acutely conscious of the king-sized bed in a central position, and for a crazy moment she wondered what it would be like to share it with the man at her side.

He must have either seen her expression or thought he had read her mind as he said, 'I'm a restless sleeper. I need the space.'

She nodded, feeling less composed than when they'd arrived, and when Max saw that there was no comment forthcoming he said briskly, 'Right. Let's get moving.'

They'd visited the home of another young boy who had all the symptoms of mumps and called at the home of an elderly couple who had come back from holidaying abroad with unpleasant gastric upsets, and now at the end of the list of calls to be made were encountering the most serious case of the day.

An elderly woman opened the door to them and said without preamble, 'It's Ben, Doctor. He can't stand up, he's so dizzy. He's been reeling about like somebody drunk.'

'Where is he, Betty?' he asked.

'Lying on the bedroom floor,' was the answer. 'I tried to lift him onto the bed, but he was too heavy. He was all right when he went to bed last night, but the moment he put his feet on the bedroom floor this morning he lost his balance.'