Twice as Good. Alison Roberts

had been terribly wrong.

      Things had just become immeasurably worse.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ANY second now, Janet Muir warned herself.

      The eye contact between them had all the dreadful inevitability of a slow-motion car crash. You saw the collision coming, knew the impact would be disastrous, but there wasn’t a damned thing you could do to avoid it.

      Would Jamie McFadden recognise her? Would he acknowledge the recognition? Would the memory be as overwhelmingly gut-wrenching as that which she was experiencing? Janet could feel the hard plastic handle of the bag she was clutching biting into her collar-bone. She welcomed the physical discomfort. It was something real she could focus on in this developing nightmare.

      ‘You’re Scottish,’ Oliver observed, with an amused tilt to his mouth.

      ‘Aye.’ Jamie McFadden acknowledged the obvious with a brief nod. His wavy hair had darkened over the years, Janet noted. It was almost brown now. There were enough blond streaks left to make it catch the sunlight that streamed through the bay window of the waiting room. It was a glorious day outside. This really could not be happening to her.

      ‘What part are you from?’ Oliver queried.

      ‘Glasgow,’ Jamie responded. He stepped aside to allow an ambulance officer, burdened with equipment, access to the front door.

      ‘Really?’ Oliver sounded intrigued. ‘Just like Janet!’

      ‘Sorry?’ James McFadden’s total lack of comprehension was evident.

      ‘Janet Muir, our practice nurse.’ Oliver’s hand was coming up, ready to point her out. Jamie was turning even as Oliver finished his sentence. ‘Janet’s from Glasgow, too. Maybe you know each other.’

      Janet didn’t even attempt a smile. She knew it would have been a physical impossibility. She didn’t try to speak either. She needed to concentrate on simply drawing breath. The shock in those brown eyes was startling. Janet almost felt sorry for him. She’d had several minutes since she’d recognised his voice. Several long minutes in which to try and prepare herself for this moment. Jamie had been thrown in at the deep end.

      Janet’s question about whether he would recognise her had been answered. Her question about the effect of the recognition was also answered. For a split second, James McFadden looked as though he’d been violently assaulted. Stabbed. Or shot. Things didn’t come any more gut-wrenching than that—no matter how quickly the reaction could be shuttered.

      But what of the third question? How was he going to react? Would he acknowledge her? Janet waited. Jamie was the one who had stepped—uninvited and unwanted—into her world. It was his call. If he wanted to pretend they’d never met then that was fine by her. In fact, it would be infinitely preferable to … to the warmth in Jamie McFadden’s tone.

      ‘Janet! I don’t believe it! After all these years!’ Jamie’s hand was stretching towards her. Janet hugged the prickly bag of kitty litter more tightly.

      ‘Jamie.’ She tried to smile but her lips simply wouldn’t co-operate. Jamie’s hand faltered and then dropped to his side.

      ‘It was a long time ago,’ he said casually. ‘Maybe you don’t remember the last time we met.’

      Janet stared at him. Of course she remembered. How could she possibly forget? Jamie hadn’t been smiling then and his tone had been anything but warm. ‘Thank God you’re not pregnant,’ he’d said coldly. ‘It could never have worked.’

      The awkward pause went unnoticed by Oliver as Sophie dashed back inside. ‘Could you grab Mr Collins’s file, please, Janet? We’ll need the test results.’

      ‘Of course.’ Janet was glad of the task. She deposited her burden on the counter and swiftly located the file. Running outside, she handed it to Sophie. The back door of the ambulance slammed shut and it drove away. Janet sighed with relief. Several bystanders and a couple of afternoon clinic patients were standing outside the medical centre, staring at the ambulance and speculating in hushed conversations about the reason for its presence. The sooner they got back into some semblance of normal routine, the better.

      By the time Sandy Smith returned from the staffroom, all evidence of the emergency had gone. Three patients sat, looking subdued, in a tidy waiting room. Janet had arranged the files for the scheduled afternoon appointments, switched the phone back from the answering machine and was returning the calls.

      ‘Everything’s under control,’ she assured Sandy. ‘Oliver should be ready for his first patient. I’ll be in my room for a while. I’ve got to start making appointments for this week’s recalls and chase up some results. Just call me if you need any help. I don’t have any patients booked until 3 p.m. and they’re just dry ice treatment for warts and some ear syringing.’ She looked more closely at Sandy’s face. ‘Are you OK?’

      Sandy nodded. ‘I feel better now.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I really thought he was going to die, you know? I’ve never seen a dead person.’ Sandy looked over the counter fearfully, as though she expected another patient to succumb. She relaxed visibly as one old lady smiled at her. ‘Who’s Oliver talking to in the staffroom?’

      ‘Our new locum,’ Janet answered tersely. She patted the bag of kitty litter still lying on the counter, now with the tins of cat food positioned beside it. ‘Would you like to go and put these away? They’re kind of in the way here.’

      ‘Sure,’ Sandy agreed as the phone started ringing. ‘In a minute.’ She picked up the receiver. ‘Good afternoon, St David’s Medical Centre. Sandy speaking.’

      Janet sighed. She picked up the bag and tins herself. Why should she be intimidated into trying to hide? This was her territory. If anyone should feel uncomfortably unwelcome, it should be James McFadden. She wasn’t the one who’d thrown their relationship away. She wasn’t the one who’d had a fling with her best friend, got her pregnant and then set up house together hundreds of miles away in London. It wasn’t her that …

      The laughter coming from the staffroom suggested that Jamie was feeling anything but unwelcome.

      ‘So you’ve been with St Davids for about four years, then, Oliver?’ Jamie was asking.

      ‘That’s right. Janet and I started at about the same time.’ Oliver smiled at Janet who nodded her confirmation of the history. She looked away quickly but Jamie hadn’t taken his gaze off Oliver.

      ‘And Josh has been here for ten?’

      ‘And Toni,’ Oliver told him. ‘She started out as the receptionist when the practice was very small. She got promoted to practice manager at the same time Janet and I came here.’

      ‘Ah.’ The syllable was laced with fresh comprehension. ‘You and Janet were together, then.’

      Oliver laughed. ‘Not in that sense, mate.’

      Janet plonked the tins of cat food onto the bench. She could feel her cheeks reddening again. What was so funny about that inference? And why should Jamie McFadden sound as though he had only expected her to go somewhere with a man in tow? He was the one who hadn’t been satisfied with a single partner.

      ‘Oliver is married to Sophie,’ she informed Jamie crisply. ‘Our GP registrar.’

      ‘But only recently, I understand.’ Jamie’s level gaze informed Janet that she’d had plenty of time to go in and out of a relationship with Oliver Spencer before a preferable model had shown up. The gaze was transferred almost instantly but the message had been clearly relayed. Janet winced at the reminder of how easily they’d always been able to communicate. A glance here—a touch there. It had been all that had been necessary to convey a wealth of information. Almost telepathy. Disturbing. Janet’s hand knocked the tin of cat food she had just put down. It rolled into the sink with a loud clatter.

      ‘And