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Lesley Leigh would be even fiercer competition than usual. That kind always had men running after them. In her experience they accepted it as their natural right.
    It still rankled that she'd wasted her time for the last six months running after Pete Morrison, only to find at the last minute that he had a student girl-friend tucked away somewhere in Glasgow. That clot wouldn't know how to set up a blood drip single-handed if he tried, she thought disparagingly. All those embroidered tea-cloths "and cadging titbits from patients for his afternoon tea! She still burned at the memory of it.
    She was in no mood to cooperate when Lesley finally unearthed her in the urine-testing room at the far end of the ward.
    "I'm much too busy to do it myself," she snapped in reply to Lesley's request for help. "Nurse Duncan will get the tray ready if you wait." She summoned her probationer from the other end of the ward. "By the way," she said coldly, "just so as there's no mistake, I've taken your name off the list for the party tonight. No one told us to expect a woman. I should have thought you - a St. Kentigern graduate - would have known better. Women medicals aren't invited to their corridor dances."
     
    After the encounter with Staff Nurse Bell, little Nurse Duncan was a pleasant surprise. "I've got my pocket book on tray and trolley setting, Doctor." She patted the bulge underneath her uniform pocket. "I'll have everything ready in ten minutes."
    "Thank you, Nurse. While I'm waiting I'll let Mrs. Brent know what to expect."
    She poked her head round the door of the side room and caught her patient unawares. Supported by pillows in the sitting position, Mrs. Brent was breathing with difficulty. Veins stood out on her neck. Her hands were clutching her abdomen. She moved them quickly as Lesley came into the room.
    "It's yourself, Doctor. To what do we owe the pleasure of this little visit? More blood-sucking, I suppose." She did her best to make a joke of it.
    "No shortage of blood at the moment, I'm glad to say. We're on the look-out for some peritoneal fluid today."
    The woman's face sobered, and Lesley put her hand on the coverlet.
    "You're not very comfortable, are you, my dear?"
    "To tell the truth, Doctor, my tummy's as tight as a drum. My Tom says it's bigger than it was with the twins - and I've got nothing to show for it this time." She started to laugh, but it ended in a fit of coughing.
    "Sir Charles wants me to take some of the fluid away. You won't feel so uncomfortable. You'll be able to breathe and sleep more easily tonight."
    The woman looked anxiously at Lesley's face.
    "You won't feel a thing. We'll put a little local anaesthetic into the skin. After that you'll feel nothing, I promise you."
    "A local anaesthetic? Is that freezing the skin, like at the dentist's?"
    "Exactly," said Lesley, injecting confidence into her voice.
    The patient settled back on her pillows reassured.
    "I'm glad you're doing it today," she said confidentially. "Sister's very nice - I wouldn't say a word against her for the world - but between you and me, Doctor, she's a bit of a dragon. She flusters me."
    Lesley laughed in spite of herself. "Between you and me, she fusses me too." Her tone belied the words but drew her patient into an easy conspiracy which helped to alleviate her tension.
    "Do you mind if Nurse Obanyke watches, Doctor?" Jane Duncan came into the room with her trolley. She had mustered her friend from Ward Three. This was a new experience. It had to be shared. "Neither of us has had a chance to see one done before," she said eagerly.
    "Of course not. Come on in." Lesley refrained from pointing out that that put the three of them in the same boat. "Always glad of another pair of hands." She beckoned the Nigerian nurse who was hovering in the doorway.
    Now that she had started her hands were quite steady. She took her time. She percussed carefully, mapping out the area of dullness. When she knew exactly the extent of the fluid,