A Family Of Their Own. Jennifer Taylor

that this stop was St Stephen’s and to change here for Waterloo and Embankment. She felt her heart give a nervous little jolt as she alighted from the carriage. The first day in her new job was about to begin.

      It had been pure good luck that she had happened to find the advertisement on the internet asking for experienced nurses to work at HealthFirst, a medical centre operating out of one of London’s busiest railway stations. The jobs were being handled by an Australian recruitment agency, so she had arranged an interview at their office in Sydney.

      She had met all HealthFirst’s requirements so the agency had emailed her application to London and received a reply, setting up a time when they could telephone and speak to her in person. Five days later she’d signed a three-month contract and faxed it back to their office.

      The wonders of modern technology, she thought wryly as she took the escalator up to the station’s main concourse. The only problem being that it was a little daunting to be starting a new job without having met any of the people she would be working with.

      Would they accept her? she found herself wondering as she stepped off the moving stairway. She had always made friends easily in the past but that had been before she’d found out that she wasn’t the person she’d thought herself to be. She wasn’t really Leanne Russell at all. That had been the name her adoptive parents had given her. Until she found out the truth about herself, she couldn’t be certain of anything any more.

      Leanne put that unsettling thought to the back of her mind as she crossed the busy concourse. It was a little before eight and the morning rush-hour was under way. She could see the neon sign for HealthFirst glowing above the heads of the commuters. The clinic was on the mezzanine level so she ran up the stairs then paused before opening the door.

      She had dressed with extra care that morning, wanting to make a good impression. Although she had been told that a uniform would be provided, it had seemed important that she looked neat and tidy and the black trouser suit and crisp white shirt had seemed the perfect choice.

      She was quite tall, a little over five feet nine, with a trim but curvaceous figure, and tailored clothes suited her best. Low-heeled black pumps added a little more to her height and matched the workmanlike leather bag swinging from her shoulder.

      She had pinned her collar-length, dark red hair into a French pleat and been sparing with her make-up, relying on a touch of foundation to conceal the sprinkling of freckles that covered her small, straight nose and just a lick of black mascara to emphasise her slate-grey eyes.

      Lipstick was something she’d never worn since Michael had told her that it made her mouth look far too big, but just for a moment she found herself wishing that she had worn some that day. It would have helped to bolster her courage if she had been wearing full war-paint, as her mother had always called it.

      Thinking about the woman who had brought her up still caused her a lot of pain so she quickly pushed open the door and went inside. There was an attractive blonde woman behind the desk and she looked up with a polite smile.

      ‘Good morning. How may I help you?’

      ‘I’m Leanne Russell, the new practice nurse. I was told to report to Dr Slater,’ she explained.

      ‘Oh, hi, there! It’s good to meet you, Leanne.’ The woman smiled more warmly at her this time. ‘I’m Melanie Pickering, another of the nurses here, although my contract runs out in…oh, seventy-one hours and six minutes precisely.’

      Leanne laughed. ‘Not that you’re counting off the minutes, of course. Is it really that bad, working here?’

      ‘No way! It’s been great and I’ve really enjoyed it, but it’s time to move on.’

      Melanie grinned as she got up from behind the desk. ‘I’m off to the Philippines next week and I’m really looking forward to it. I’ve got itchy feet, I’m afraid, so I never stay too long in any one place. Mind you, most of the people who work here are exactly the same. Nick was only saying yesterday that it’s like the United Nations in here.’

      ‘Nick?’ Leanne prompted, following Melanie down a wide corridor.

      The clinic was very modern from what she could see, with lots of chrome and glass and discreetly positioned lighting. They passed an elegantly furnished waiting area and she smiled at a man who was sitting on one of the comfortable chairs, drinking a cup of coffee.

      She knew from the literature that had been sent to her that patients attending the clinic paid to see a doctor or a nurse according to a set scale of charges. HealthFirst offered a walk-in service so that people didn’t need to make an appointment before they arrived.

      ‘Nick Slater. He’s in charge for the next four months while the clinic’s director is taking an extended holiday.’

      ‘Another short-term contract,’ Leanne observed. They had reached the end of the corridor and Melanie paused outside a door that was standing slightly ajar.

      ‘Most people who work here are employed on a short-term basis. It’s one of the main attractions of the job. As for Nick, well, his feet are even itchier than mine! If you’ve got a couple of hours to spare, ask him to list all the countries he’s visited—’ She broke off and grimaced when the phone in Reception rang. ‘Starting early today from the sound of it. I’ll have to leave you and Nick to introduce yourselves. Don’t bother knocking. Just go straight in. He’s on his own.’

      ‘Thanks,’ Leanne murmured as Melanie hurried away. She squared her shoulders then went to open the door when all of a sudden she heard voices coming from inside the room. She paused, realising that Melanie must have been mistaken about Nick Slater being on his own. She would hate to barge in if he had a patient with him…

      ‘Leanne Russell. Aged twenty-four, from Sydney, Australia. Glowing references—highly professional, committed to her work, a credit to her profession, etcetera, etcetera. It all sounds rather too good to be true.’

      ‘Then it probably is.’

      Nick Slater tipped back his big leather armchair and placed his booted feet on the edge of the desk. His hazel-green eyes were wry as he looked at the other man. ‘If something sounds too good to be true then it usually is in my experience.’

      Dennis McNally laughed. ‘You’re such a cynic, Nick. She could be the real thing, a genuine, bona fide angel.’

      ‘I’ll believe that when I see her wings.’ Nick chuckled when Dennis groaned. ‘Sorry! Bad joke. Anyway, what else do we know about Miss Russell?’

      Dennis frowned as he skimmed through the application form. ‘Not a lot. She comes from Sydney, as I said, and trained at the Royal Free. She had just been appointed junior sister on the tropical diseases ward—’ He broke off when Nick sighed. ‘What?’

      ‘Think about it. If you’d just been given a promotion, would you up and leave?’ Nick shrugged as he tilted further back in his chair. ‘Sounds to me as though Miss Russell might have had another reason for leaving sunny Sydney rather than a simple desire to spend the winter sightseeing in London. Could it have been man trouble, by any chance? That’s just what we need. Someone who’s going to spend all her time nursing a broken heart instead of the patients.’

      ‘Come on, Nick,’ Dennis protested. ‘You don’t have any idea why she decided to leave Aus. She might have had a sudden urge to see a bit more of the world. In which case she’ll fit in perfectly around here.’

      ‘She might,’ Nick replied, not attempting to hide his scepticism. They were under a lot of pressure at HealthFirst and the last thing they needed was a member of the team who didn’t pull her weight.

      ‘Well, there’s an easy way to test out your theory,’ Dennis said cheerfully. ‘If Leanne Russell is indeed suffering from a broken heart then she won’t be interested in going out on a date, will she? Ask her out and see what kind of a reaction you get.’

      ‘Thanks but, no, thanks.’ Nick smiled thinly. ‘I’m not in the market for a relationship, especially not