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were in Theatre, and—'
    'It would have done when we'd finished. It's quite unnecessary to involve the medical registrar for such a routine problem,' he interrupted censoriously.
    'You know that and I know that—but I wasn't going to stamp on a sweet young thing hell-bent on doing her very best,' Yona returned evenly. 'You can tell her off if you want to. That's your privilege!'
    'Of course I'm not going to tell her off,' he said, irritated. 'She was only doing what she thought was right for the patient.'
    'So was I,' Yona was saying pointedly when the nurse in question came in with a teatray. There were two cups on it. 'Just wondered if you like some tea, too, Mr Preston...'
    'Thank you, that was very thoughtful of you, Linda,' said Mike in a completely different tone. 'This is a big day for you, isn't it—your first in charge?'
    'Yes, but we've not been very busy so far. About Mrs White...'
    'That's all right. Dr MacFarlane has told me all about her. And don't look so worried—this little hiccup was only to be expected with her history, I'm afraid. Is there anything else worrying you?'
    'No, thank you—and, as I said, we're not very busy so— Excuse me, please!' She darted out at the sound of a buzzer alarm coming from the patients' loo.
    'Are you having tea?' Mike asked Yona as he picked up the teapot.
    Does he wish it were a hand grenade? she wondered. 'I was invited and I accepted so, yes, please,' she returned, nettled at the difference between his way of speaking to the nurse and to herself.
    Mike filled the cups and pushed one towards Yona, leaving her to help herself to milk. She thanked him and then sat back, determined not to start a conversation that would only lead to another snub.
    He surprised her by saying awkwardly after a moment,
    'About David Lewis. I don't mind admitting I was hoping he would get your job. He didn't, though—and you did. And, according to Ted, you've made quite a good start.'
    Only 'quite'? 'Thank you,' she said coolly.
    'So it's probably best if we put a stop to this—this antipathy we seemed to have fallen into,' he went on, as though she hadn't spoken. 'It serves no useful purpose and is rather unprofessional.'
    'I couldn't agree more,' she responded, while simmering secretly at the implication that she was the guilty one in this. 'All the same—'
    'No post-mortem, please,' he interrupted. 'That would serve no useful purpose either.'
    'It might have cleared the air, though,' said Yona, putting down her cup with rather a clatter and standing up. 'But if that's the way you want it...' She went out, leaving her sentence unfinished. The only ending she'd thought of had been smart and cutting, and they'd just decided to be done with all that.
    *
    'Hectic weekend, Yona?' asked Ted on Monday morning.
    'Par for the course really. Not enough to claim I was rushed off my feet, but the calls were just too frequent for me to leave the hospital in between.' She paused, her eyes bright. 'You'll never guess who I admitted to our unit yesterday!'
    'Surprise me,' he invited.
    'Our esteemed assistant administrator, Medical Division. She came to Casualty with a sprained ankle and fainted on her way out. I'd just been admitting yet another status asthmaticus—it was quite a weekend for those—so Sister asked me to take a look at her, with her being such a valuable member of staff.'
    'Careful, dear, your prejudices are showing,' warned Ted with a broad grin. 'But how come a swooning sprained ankle ended up in a rheumatic unit?'
    'The woman was clearly unwell—vaguely feverish, distinctive rash on face and hands, diffuse small bruises which were certainly not due to her recent fall—and when questioned she admitted to fleeting joint pains which she'd put down to having recently taken up badminton.'
    Ted's interest had crystallised long before Yona had finished. 'You're thinking of SLE,' he said.
    'Yes, so I've sent off samples for ESR and ANF testing, as well as a full white-cell count. She has