Dance-of-the-Snake-Yvonne-Whittal Read online

  Peter frowned and glanced down at Jessica. 'This means you'll be on your own

  for a while. Do you think you'll manage?'

  'Yes, of course,' Jessica replied calmly and with a confidence she had inherited

  from her father.

  'Good girl,' Peter smiled down at her. 'If there's anything you want to know,

  then you have only to ask Sister Hansen, and I'll be at the hospital if I'm needed

  urgently.'

  Moments later, when his Mercedes disappeared down the street, Sister Hansen

  stepped out from behind her desk in the corner of the waiting-room, and gestured

  Jessica to follow her.

  'These two rooms are Dr O'Brien's,' she indicated as they went down the

  passage. 'These two are Dr Trafford's, and these here will be yours, Dr Neal.'

  'Why two rooms?' Jessica asked curiously, entering the larger of the two and

  glancing about her as she lifted her medical bag on to the desk.

  'When the waiting-room is crowded, two rooms are a blessing,' Sister Hansen

  explained briskly. 'It enables you to see to two patients almost simultaneously.'

  From the hook behind the door Sister Hansen removed a short white coat, but

  her expression was comically rueful as she glanced from it to Jessica. It was

  obvious, even from a distance, that the size was several times too large for

  Jessica, and she laughed a little selfconsciously.

  'It doesn't matter,' Jessica set her mind at rest and, opening her bag, brought out

  a neatly folded white jacket which she shook out and draped across the chair

  behind the desk. 'I brought along my own,' she explained to the relieved Sister

  Hansen. 'I've never yet found a size to fit, so I had a few jackets specially made

  for me.'

  'That was very sensible of you,' Emily Hansen smiled, taking in Jessica's

  smallness, but she tactfully said no more.

  'At what time do you expect the first patient to arrive?' Jessica asked, glancing

  at her wrist watch.

  'Any moment now.' The Sister tilted her head in a listening attitude. 'If I'm not

  mistaken, then I hear someone in the waiting-room at this very moment.'

  'Then I suppose you'd better send whoever it is in.'

  With an outward calmness that belied a sudden spurt of ridiculous nervousness,

  Jessica's steady, questioning glance met Sister Hansen's. 'There's no reason to

  wait, is there?'

  'None at-'all, Dr Neal.'

  The door closed behind Sister Hansen's sturdy figure and, with a few seconds

  at her disposal, Jessica slipped on her white jacket over her cool cotton frock,

  and familiarised herself with the small clinical room in an effort to steady

  herself. The room was not overcrowded, but it contained everything that she

  might possibly need. A high bunk, neatly covered with waterproofing and a

  sheet, stood behind a screen for examination purposes, and a glass cabinet,

  which contained the necessary sterilised instruments and drugs, stood in the

  opposite corner beside the door leading into the adjoining room.

  After walking the spacious wards of a city hospital, this was something new

  and strange to Jessica, but the feeling of strangeness wore off soon after the

  first patient was shown in.

  As the morning progressed Jessica could not avoid being aware of the various

  reactions from the patients when they discovered that she was a-woman. There

  was surprise, then uncertainty, and finally a wary submission to her

  ministrations, but she had the feeling that they were no longer in doubt by the

  time they walked out clutching a prescription in their hands.

  Jessica's most difficult patient that morning was a large, portly, sunburnt

  farmer who gaped at her in dismay and uncertainty as he clutched at his

  wide-brimmed, sweaty hat.

  'Has Dr O'Brien taken on another nurse as well as a new doctor?' he

  demanded in a gravelly, heavily accented voice, and Jessica glanced quickly at

  the name on the file before answering.

  'I'm not a nurse, Mr Boshoff, I'm a doctor.'

  Eyes of an indiscriminate colour widened in disbelief. 'You're the new

  doctor?'

  'That's right.'Jessica's glance was cool and professional. 'What ails you, Mr

  Boshoff?'

  'Well, I have this cough, you see, Doctor, and it hurts right here,' he explained

  at last, stabbing at a spot on his vast, khaki-clad chest with a thick forefinger. 'I

  was wondering if you couldn't give me something for it,' he added, eyeing her

  dubiously.

  Jessica rose from behind her desk. 'I shall have to examine you first.'

  'Examine me?'

  The man backed away from her, and she was reminded of a startled horse

  rearing on to its hind legs, but she deliberately paid no attention for fear of

  laughing as she pointed to the stool beside the examination bunk. 'Take off

  your shirt, Mr Boshoff, and sit down over there.'

  'I'm not taking my shirt off in front of a woman!' the man thundered

  indignantly, clutching his hat against him like a shield. 'Just give me something

  for my cough, then I won't trouble you further.'

  Jessica sighed inwardly, and her patience was severely tested as her dark

  glance swept him from head to foot. 'It won't be the first time I've laid eyes on a

  man's bare chest, Mr Boshoff, so take off your shirt and let's have no more

  nonsense.'

  'I don't take my shirt off for no woman except my wife, and you

  '

  'Having problems, Dr Neal?' a deep, cynical voice enquired, and Jessica

  turned abruptly to find a pair of cool grey eyes assessing her in a way that sent

  a peculiar sensation quivering through her which she resented instantly.

  Tall, lean and muscular, he stood with his hand resting lightly on the handle

  of the door and, whoever he was, he exuded an aura of masculinity which was

  like a force enveloping her before she had time to erect a barricade,, and she

  was almost too afraid to breathe as she continued to stare at him. Dark-haired,

  and dressed in an exquisitely cut grey suit, he possessed an authoritative

  manner which instilled something more than just ordinary respect, she realised

  as she disengaged herself from his magnetism.

  Her observations had taken place in no more than the flash of a second

  before she heard' herself explain with surprising calmness, 'I want to examine

  Mr BoshofF, but he refuses to remove his shirt.'

  'She's a woman, Dr Trafford,' the man protested, and Jessica had difficulty

  in suppressing that flicker of interest that swept through her now as she

  glanced quickly at the man who had ventured no farther than the door even

  though he seemed to fill the room with his presence.

  'She also happens to be a doctor,' Dane Trafford reminded him sternly, 'and

  she's seen much more than just a man's chest in her time, so don't be a fool,

  man, and take off your shirt.'

  It was an order, not a request, and the hardy farmer obeyed with a muttered,

  'I don't know what this world is coming to.'

  Dane Trafford left as quietly as he had appeared, and . Jessica carried out her

  examination without any further protest from her patient.

  'Well?' Mr BoshofF demanded when she eventually told him he could put

  his shirt on again. 'What's wrong with me?'

  'Your bronchial tubes are severely c
ongested,' Jessica told him in terms he

  would understand as she resumed her seat behind her desk, and when he had

  seated himself opposite her, she asked: 'Do you smoke?'

  'Yes,' he barked at her.

  'How many cigarettes a day?'

  ' I . . . well, K . . '

  'Come now, Mr Boshoff,' Jessica demanded with growing impatience. 'How

  many?'

  'About sixty, I suppose,' he admitted grudgingly, but he rallied swiftly with,

  'And don't you tell me to stop smoking!'

  'I have no intention of telling you to stop smoking, but I am going to ask you to

  try and cut down on your nicotine intake, and I mean cut it down to at least half,'

  Jessica told him. 'I'll also prescribe something for you, and then I'd like you to

  come and see me again in a week's time.'

  'I'd rather see Dr O'Brien, or Dr Trafford.'

  'As you wish,' Jessica murmured, suppressing an involuntary smile as she

  wrote out a prescription and handed it to him.

  Her smile broadened when the door closed behind him, but there was no time

  to linger on the amusing side of her job as the next patient was shown in.

  When the last patient for that morning had filtered through her hands, she

  checked the contents of her bag and fastened the catches. She had wanted

  variety, and she had certainly got it, she thought with intense satisfaction, but her

  father's disapproving features suddenly swam before her eyes to dampen her

  enthusiasm.

  The sound of a firm step behind her made her turn, and once again she, found

  herself facing Dane Trafford, but on this occasion he was not content with

  remaining in the doorway, and he approached her where she stood beside her

  desk to make her aware not only of his incredible height, but of those pale grey

  eyes which seemed to miss nothing, not even the faint tightening of her lips. She

  wrenched her eyes from his and her glance travelled over his superbly chiselled

  features as she guessed his age somewhere in the mid-thirties, and she decided, at

  once, that he was much too attractive for his own good.

  'Introductions are rather superfluous at the moment, thanks to old James

  Boshoff,' he remarked, his narrowed glance taking in her appearance now with a

  slow deliberation from the top of her dark, curly head down to the serviceable

  shoes on her small feet, and his look filled

  her with an odd vulnerability and an awareness of her own femininity that

  made her move her shoulders uncomfortably beneath her white jacket.

  'I'd like to thank you, Dr Trafford, for your assistance,' she said, but her voice

  sounded stilted and unlike her own.

  He shrugged casually, but those pale grey eyes remained watchful. 'I dare say

  you'll help me out some time in a moment of need.'

  Was it her Imagination, or did she detect an undertone of sensuality in his

  voice that suggested that he was referring to a personal and not a professional

  need? Fighting down the unfamiliar wave of heat that invaded her body, she

  chose to ignore her suspicions.

  'Considering that we shall be working together for the next twelve months,

  my professional assistance will always be at your disposal,' she announced

  stiffly.

  'That's comforting to know,' he smiled cynically, and she knew suddenly that

  her suspicions had been correct.

  She stared a long way up into those mocking grey eyes, telling herself that

  this man was no different from any other man she had met before in her life, but

  she knew that this was not so. No man had ever succeeded in making her so

  intensely aware of the fact that she was a woman, and it was this disquieting

  thought that made her turn from him to hide her confusion just as Peter O'Brien

  entered the room.

  'Ah, Dane,' Peter's smiling voice swept away some of that odd tenseness

  which was gripping Jessica. 'I see you've met our new colleague.'

  'We have met, yes,' Dane replied coolly, his disturbing gaze roaming over

  Jessica once again.

  'Good,' Peter said brusquely, then he glanced enquiringly from one to the

  other. 'Has everything gone smoothly this morning?'

  'Very smoothly, I should say,' Dane told him, smiling faintly in Jessica's

  direction in a way that made her recall

  vividly those awkward moments with James Boshoff, and his manner angered

  her for some reason.

  'Any calls, Sister Hansen?' Peter asked as Emily entered the room in her brisk

  manner to collect the patient's files on Jessica's desk.

  'Not one,' Emily Hansen shook her head, her smile embracing them all. 'You

  can go home to a quiet lunch for a change.'

  'That's the best news I've heard in a long time,' Dane sighed, flexing his wide

  shoulders, then those compelling grey eyes sought Jessica's. 'Will you join me?'

  Play it cool, Jessica warned herself, and her expression somehow mirrored

  none of her feelings as she asked with pretended innocence, 'For lunch, you

  mean?'

  'Naturally,' he said, his eyes mocking and berating her simultaneously for being

  a coward.

  'Thank you, no,' she declined politely but firmly. 'I still have a few things to sort

  out before I can say I've settled completely into my new home.'

  'Pity,' he shrugged nonchalantly. 'See you all later.'

  His long, lithe strides took him swiftly from that room and out of the building,

  but it was not until his car roared down the street a few moments later that Emily

  Hansen spoke.

  'I'll say one thing for Dr Trafford. He never lets the grass grow under his feet

  where something in a skirt is concerned, but all the same he's undeniably an

  excellent doctor.'

  Peter O'Brien's expression seemed to hover somewhere between a frown and a

  smile. 'Between my wife and yourself, Sister Hansen, you're going to make

  Jessica believe that we're harbouring a ladykiller in our midst.'

  'Oh, no!' Sister Hansen not only looked but sounded shocked. 'Dr Trafford isn't

  a ladykiller, but he has that certain something that definitely makes him

  irresistible to women.'

  'Sex appeal, Sister Hansen?' Peter queried with a wicked smile, and Emily

  Hansen, for all her years as a nursing Sister, went pink to the roots of her hair.

  'Oh, go home to your lunch, both of you,' she laughed heartily, and Jessica and

  Peter grinned at each other as she marched out of the office.

  Jessica had barely swallowed down a sandwich and a cup of tea when the

  telephone rang shrilly, and when she lifted the receiver Emily Hansen's brisk

  voice sounded in her ear.

  'I apologise for interrupting your lunch hour, Dr Neal, but Dr Trafford has

  already left for the hospital, and Dr O'Brien is unfortunately on duty in the

  consulting-rooms this afternoon.'

  'What's the problem, Sister Hansen?' Jessica asked with equal briskness,

  picking up the pencil she had left next to the notepad on the small table.

  'I have a call here from Hennie Delport who owns the general dealers in town,'

  Emily Hansen explained. 'His wife collapsed at their home a few minutes ago,

  and she's apparently in terrible pain.'

  'I'll go at once if you'll give me a few directions.'

  'You can't miss their shop in the main street. It's right next door to Logan's

  b
ookshop and stationers. The Delport house is in the side street just behind the

  store.'

  Jessica had no difficulty in following Sister Hansen's directions, and within

  less than ten minutes she was hurrying up the path of the Delport home. The front

  door opened before she had time to knock, and she introduced herself hastily.

  'I'm Dr Neal, Mr Delport.'

  'Yes, yes . . . come this way.' He stepped aside and Jessica followed his thin,

  bony frame down the passage. 'I made her lie down, and I filled a hot water bottle

  for her,

  but it doesn't seem to be helping for the pain.'

  He gestured Jessica into an airy bedroom where a plump, grey-haired woman

  reclined on the old-fashioned double bed, and from the greyness of her pallor she

  was suffering considerable agony.

  'Hello, Mrs Delport. I'm Dr Neal,'Jessica smiled down at her as she deposited

  her bag on the chair beside the bed.

  'You don't look like a doctor,' the woman complained goodnaturedly. 'You're

  much too young, kindjie.'

  Jessica's hackles would have risen if anyone else had dared to call her a child,

  but coming from this woman it sounded more like a friendly compliment.

  'You will allow me to examine you all the same, won't you?'

  'Anything, kindjie' the woman gasped. ' Anything, just as long as you can do

  something to take away this pain.'

  'You may stay, if you like, Mr Delport,'Jessica told the thin, grey-haired man

  who seemed to hover with indecision at the foot of the bed, and then she

  proceeded with a thorough examination of the woman lying on the bed.

  Jessica's small, clever hands gently probed the areas around the woman's

  abdomen, her brain functioning to its fullest capacity as she questioned her

  patient quietly, and listened intently to the symptoms given.

  'How long have you been experiencing these pains, Mrs Delport?'

  'Tante Maria,' the woman corrected at once, allowing Jessica to help her

  straighten her clothes after the examination had been completed. 'Everybody

  calls me Tante Maria, and my husband there is Hennie.' She pointed to the man

  seating himself gingerly on the foot of the bed, then she returned her attention to

  Jessica. 'I've had this pain for a few weeks now. It would come and go, but today

  was the worst it's ever been.'

  Tante Maria continued to speak, trying to minimise her suffering, but Jessica's