early for optimism, the atmosphere at the medical committee meeting in the morning was certainly more relaxed. MacQuillan erased the names of the dead from his epimid chart and, more importantly, did not have to add any new ones. Beasdale sounded pleased when Saithe made his report and asked if this was a sign that they might be getting away with it.
“Too soon to say,” replied Saithe.
There had been stories of occasional arguments between Skelmore people and the military on the outskirts of town but it had not gone beyond a little name calling. For the most part the quarantine order had been accepted with good humour and the forbearance that the British extend to what they regard as government folly. ‘Bloody daft if you ask me,’ they would say but they were smiling when they said it.
Saracen took time off to have dinner with Alan Tremaine and his sister for the new housemen in A amp;E had proved themselves to be reliable and knowledgeable enough to be left on their own, albeit with the instruction that they call Saracen at the first sign of trouble; Tremaine’s flat was well within bleeper range.
Claire Tremaine greeted him with a drink and a tirade against the officialdom that had prevented her from visiting London to ‘recharge her batteries.’ “Being stuck in Skelmore is going to drive me mad,” she maintained.
“C’mon. You know you love it,” her brother teased.
Claire took the bait. “Love it!” she exclaimed. “My friends get jobs in Greece, Egypt, Colombia and I end up digging in the rain in Skelmore! Yugh!”
Saracen smiled and asked her how her work was going.
“It’s not,” she replied. “We are beginning to think that the map might be some kind of fake. We haven’t found a trace of the legendary abbey.”
“Where did the map come from?” asked Saracen.
“A librarian at Oxford found it between the pages of an old book that was part of a bequest to the university.”
“What a marvellous story,” said Saracen.
“It would be more marvellous if we actually uncovered something,” said Claire.
“Give it time sister dear. Patience was never your strong point.” said Alan Tremaine. Claire made a face at him.
Saracen’s bleeper went off as they were having after dinner coffee. He phoned the hospital.
“Bad news?” asked Tremaine when he came back into the room.
“A bus has mounted the pavement and ploughed into a bus queue in Church Road. The ambulances have just gone out.”
Claire looked disappointed. “Oh dear, does this mean you’ll have to go?” she asked.
“I think I had better,” said Saracen.
“I have a better idea,” announced Tremaine. “You stay and I’ll go.”
Saracen swithered but Claire persuaded him to accept her brother’s offer. As they heard Tremaine drive away Claire said, “Delegation isn’t your forte James is it?”
Saracen was taken aback. “What made you say that?” he asked.
Claire smiled at his discomfort. “It’s written all over you,” she said. “You are one of these people who have to do everything for themselves. Right now you are itching to be off to the hospital.”
Saracen had to admit to himself that Claire was right. “They might need me,” he said defensively.
Claire shook her head slowly and said, “No, it’s not that. It would be the same if there were twenty doctors back there in A amp;E. You would still want to be there. Many people would call it dedication but it’s not, it’s arrogance.”
“Arrogance!” protested Saracen.
“Yes,” continued Claire. “You believe sub-consciously or otherwise that you are the best. No one can possibly do the job as well as you can. If you are not around there will be foul-up after foul-up.” She moved closer to Saracen and said, “Is that not right?”
“I just think that…”
Claire moved even closer and said, “Go on, admit it.”
Saracen started to protest but then gave in and smiled. “Perhaps there is a deal of truth in what you say,” he conceded.
Claire looked triumphant. “More coffee?” she asked.
“Please.”
Claire returned with the coffee pot. “Tell me,” she said, “What are you doing in a one-horse town like Skelmore?”
“It suits me,” said Saracen, not wishing to pursue the matter any further.
Claire looked at him appraisingly, wearing a slightly amused smile and said, “You are a funny one. There’s much more to you than you ever let on. Tell me something else. Where does Jill Rawlings fit in to your life?”
“We are friends.”
“And lovers?”
“Mind your own business.”
Claire laughed and admitted, “I asked for that.” She sat down beside Saracen and ran her forefinger gently across the back of his hand. “I didn’t ask out of idle curiosity you know,” she said softly. “I am not entirely a disinterested party where you are concerned.”
Saracen looked at her with a puzzled expression. Claire kept up the massage on the back of his hand. She smiled and tilted her head to the right so that her hair fell away from her face. “Well,” she said softly, “What do you say?”
“You are playing games Claire,” said Saracen. “You are a bored London lady out to amuse herself with whatever is available in this ‘one-horse town’ as you call it.”
Claire shook her head but did not stop smiling. “You’re wrong,” she said. “I wanted you from the first moment I saw you.”
Saracen saw so much of his ex-wife Marion in Claire. She had the same easy self-confidence, the same will to get what she wanted and, what was more disturbing, she was generating the same excitement in him.
“Don’t you find me attractive?” Claire asked.
“You know you are attractive,” said Saracen feeling that the word was an understatement. He was only too conscious of the swell of Claire’s hips in a tight fitting lemon silk dress.
“Well then, where’s the harm?” Claire’s voice had taken on the soothing reassurance of a hypnotist at work. She moved her head again so that her hair tumbled to the other side.
Saracen looked at her and said, “If it didn’t sound so bloody silly I’d say that I hated being used.”
Claire pouted and said, “I’d still respect you in the morning.”
Saracen smiled.
Claire adopted a serious expression. “I meant it,” she said softly. “I want you.”
Saracen shook his head.
“It’s Jill isn’t it?” said Claire.
“Maybe. I don’t know myself.”
“You really are a strange one aren’t you?”
“I think I better go.”
Tremaine looked up and smiled when Saracen walked into A amp;E but didn’t say anything.
“How are things?” asked Saracen.
“Under control.”
“I thought I would just pop in on my way home.”
“Uh huh,” said Tremaine with an amused look on his face.
“Are you going to tell me or do I have to drag it out of you?” said Saracen.
“It wasn’t as bad as it sounded,” smiled Tremaine. “A number of the people lying on the pavement had just
