Dance-of-the-Snake-Yvonne-Whittal Page 5

  'It's because I happen to be old enough to be your mother, and besides . . .' Tante

  Maria paused and smiled up at him warmly, 'I'm fond of you even though you're

  such a rascal.'

  Jessica was beginning to feel like an intruder and, clearing her throat, she said:

  'I'll see you again tomorrow, Tante Maria.'

  'All right, Jessica.'

  'Just a minute, Dr Neal.' An authoritative hand was raised to prevent her from

  leaving, and she was forced to wait while Dane Trafford took his leave of Tante

  Maria. A few minutes later, as they walked down the wide passage towards the

  lift, he glanced at Jessica speculatively. 'They serve excellent coffee here in the

  canteen.'

  'That's nice,' Jessica replied coolly as they stepped into the lift and were swept

  down to the ground floor, 'but it's late, and I'd like to go home.'

  'That's a good idea,' he nodded, a look of the devil in his eyes that made her

  heart leap wildly with something close to fear. 'I'm sure you would make an even

  better cup of coffee.'

  Jessica glanced at him sharply. 'That wasn't an invitation.'

  'Of course it was,' he argued smoothly as the lift doors opened and, following

  her out of the building into the well- lit parking area, he added arrogantly, 'I

  invited myself.'

  She stopped abruptly and looked up at him with fury in her eyes. 'If you think

  I -------------------------- '

  'I'll follow you in my car, and don't speed,' he interrupted warningly. 'They're

  very strict about speeding here in Louisville.'

  His long, lithe strides took him towards the red Mustang parked a little

  distance from her Alfa, and Jessica fumed inwardly as she slid behind the

  wheel of her car and inserted the key into the ignition. Just what was all this

  leading up to? she wondered furiously as she reversed out of the parking space

  and rammed the lever into a forward gear. If Dane Trafford had intentions of

  amusing himself with her while his girl-friend was out of reach in Pretoria, then

  he could think again. She wanted nothing to do with him! Nothing, that was,

  except professionally.

  He was behind her all the way to the cottage, and he was behind her, too,

  when she unlocked the door and switched on the lights. His presence was

  unnerving, and his silent determination more than a little frightening, but she

  was not going to allow herself to be intimidated, or influenced by him.

  ' H m . . . nice,' he said, following her into the kitchen as if he expected her to

  dart out the back door in an effort to escape him. 'Did you know that this was

  Peter's consulting-rooms when he started up his practice here in Louisville?'

  Jessica switched on the electric kettle and her hands trembled ridiculously as

  she spooned instant coffee into the cups. 'So Vivien told me.'

  'Ah, Vivien,' he replied with a hint of sardonic humour in his voice. 'That lady

  doesn't altogether approve of me.'

  'You know why, of course,' Jessica replied without turning.

  'Do you?'

  His query was abrupt and unexpected, just as her

  remark had been uncalled for, but for some inexplicable reason she had been

  unable to prevent herself from taking that little dig at him.

  'How do you like your coffee?' she asked, changing the subject.

  'Strong, black, and without sugar.' He was standing directly behind her when

  she switched off the kettle and poured the water into the cups. 'And you never

  answered my question.'

  'Your personal life is none of my concern, Dr Trafford.'

  Sensuous fingers trailed lightly across her shoulder to the nape of her neck,

  and a warm, electrifying current surged through her to set her nerves vibrating

  in the most alarming manner.

  'You could make it your concern, Jessica,' he suggested, using her name with

  ease, and his deep voice mocked and caressed simultaneously, but Jessica had

  no intention of allowing her control to slip.

  Turning, she thrust the cup of steaming liquid into his hands, and there was

  nothing but cool indifference in her dark eyes when they met his. 'Drink your

  coffee, Dr Trafford, then I must ask you to leave.'

  'Why?' he demanded with an annoying arrogance she was beginning to expect

  from him.

  'I'd like to go to bed.'

  'So would I.' Shock, and something else which she could not define, raced

  through her while she watched him seat himself at the table as if he had

  intentions of spending the night there. Mocking grey eyes were raised in that

  instant to meet her startled brown gaze. 'No clever answer this time?'

  Pulling herself together sharply, she picked up her own cup of coffee and

  turned towards the table. 'Your remark doesn't deserve an answer.'

  The telephone started ringing before she had the opportunity to sit down, and

  she went to answer it with a

  feeling of relief to discover that it was for Dane.

  'It's for you/ she said when she had turned to find him entering her lounge, but

  she could not help overhearing his conversation as she made her way back to

  the kitchen.

  'Yes? .. . Yes? . . . Get him into the theatre at once. I'll be there as quick as I

  can.'

  The conversation ended abruptly, and moments later Dane Trafford was

  dwarfing the doorway into the kitchen. 'Someone swallowed a chicken bone. If

  you'd like to come along it would help you become acquainted with the general

  layout of the hospital for future reference.'

  Gone was the Casanova image she had encountered up till now, and in its

  place was an authoritative, professional man. Confused and bewildered, she

  snatched up her car keys in silence, and followed him out, leaving two cups of

  coffee untouched on the kitchen table.

  In the theatre, not a half hour later, Jessica watched with growing admiration

  while those strong hands with the long, sensitive fingers removed the small

  bone which had lodged dangerously in the patient's trachea. As a physician and

  surgeon he obviously commanded respect from those who met him in that

  capacity, and Jessica understood now why most people were so willing to over-

  look his personal misdemeanours.

  Dane stayed on at the hospital to assure himself of his patient's welfare, but

  he instructed Jessica to return home, and she obeyed without a murmur. It had

  been a long day full of problems and surprises, and she had a feeling that,

  despite her father's dubious acceptance of her decision, she was going to enjoy

  working here among the people of Louisville.

  Jessica clipped the X-rays on to the scanner and stepped back to examine them.

  The obstructions were there, settled firmly in the bile ducts, and thrusting her

  hands into the pockets of her white jacket, she continued tto stare

  at the X-rays while Tante Maria's statement pivoted through her mind.

  T know what you doctors are like. Once you get a poor soul like me into

  hospital you won't let me out until you have had a chance to put your knife into

  me.'

  A rueful expression flashed across Jessica's sensitive features. It was going to

  be just like that for that nice old lady whom she had met only the day before, and

  there was nothing anyone could do about it.

  'Good after
noon.' Jessica jumped visibly. She wished Dane Trafford wouldn't

  always sneak up on her like this, and there was a flash of anger in her eyes when

  she turned to glance up at him, but he was looking at the X-rays on the scanner,

  and not at her. 'Tante Maria's?' he questioned abruptly.

  Jessica nodded, and murmured 'Yes', her eyes following the direction of his

  once more.

  'May I compliment you on your accurate diagnosis?'

  There was nothing complimentary in his tone of voice, only that hateful

  mockery, but she parried it with a cool, 'Thank you, Dr Trafford.'

  'Would you like me to do the operation?'

  'I'm sure I shall manage perfectly,' she replied with a hint of sarcasm behind her

  smile, 'but if you're in doubt, then I shan't object if you'd like to assist me.'

  'I shall look forward to it,' he surprised her with his acceptance, but that

  sardonic gleam in his eyes lingered for only a moment. 'When are you going to

  tell her?'

  'I'll go and see her now during my lunch hour,' Jessica replied, switching off the

  light behind the scanner, and returning the X-rays to their envelope. 'I don't think

  she's going to like it, though.'

  'Tante Maria is very much mouth at times, but she's also a sensible woman with

  plenty of heart.'

  'I gathered that,' she nodded thoughtfully, then a sigh escaped her. 'Well, there's

  no sense in delaying the inevitable, is there?'

  'No sense at all,' Dane agreed abruptly. 'Keep me posted, will you?'

  'I'll do that,' Jessica promised.

  Several minutes later she was standing beside Tante Maria's bed in the women's

  general ward. Tante Maria did not pretend that she liked the idea of having an

  operation, but, as Dane had predicted, she took it sensibly.

  'If it has to be done, kindjie, then I'd be foolish to put up an argument,' she

  remonstrated after Jessica had broken the news to her. 'All I'd like to know is .. .

  when?'

  'As soon as possible,' Jessica replied. 'Tomorrow, if I can arrange it.'

  'That's good,' Tante Maria nodded grimly. 'The sooner it's done, the sooner I

  can go home.'

  There was an awkward little silence which Jessica filled by admiring the

  hothouse chrysanthemums in the vase beside Tante Maria's bed,

  'Olivia brought them this morning,' she told Jessica.

  'Olivia King?'

  * Tante Maria nodded, her eyes lighting up with pleasure. 'She's a lovely young

  woman, and this town had never seen such a wedding as on the day Olivia

  married Bernard King.'

  ' I t was a big wedding, then?'Jessica remarked casually, but curiously.

  'Kindjie!' Tante Maria exclaimed, clasping her hands together against, her

  ample bosom. 'There wasn't place in that old stone church for everyone. Not all

  of them were invited, of course, but they went all the same, and there was not a

  woman there that day who did not shed a tear when Olivia entered the church on

  Peter O'Brien's arm.'

  'You're very fond of Olivia,'Jessica observed, not quite sure where all this was

  leading to, but if it took Tante Maria's mind off the imminency of her operation

  for a

  while, then it did not matter.

  'Yes, I am fond of her,' Tante Maria admitted. 'Logan's Bookshop belongs to

  her, and in those days, before she married Bernard, she used to live in the flat

  above the shop, but that's been changed now, and the flat has now become an

  extended part of the shop.' Her blue gaze was reminiscent. 'That was three years

  ago, but it still seems like only yesterday when Olivia arrived here in Louisville,

  a thin, insecure little thing.'

  Jessica smiled faintly. 'She's asked me to do her confinement, did you know

  that?'

  'She told me.' Blue eyes surveyed Jessica intently. 'You remind me a little of

  her, you know. You're just as small and thin.'

  'Don't look at me as though you're contemplating a fattening-up process,'

  Jessica laughed.

  'Even doctors sometimes don't know what's good for them.' Her eyes gazed up

  at Jessica with a certain amount of sternness in their depths. 'Why aren't you

  married yet, Jessica?'

  Jessica smiled inwardly, but outwardly she maintained a seriousness to match

  the older woman's expression. 'There hasn't been time to think of marriage.'

  'Nonsense!' Tante Maria exclaimed crossly. 'There's always time to think of

  marriage.'

  'When one has met the right man, yes.'

  'How do you know that you haven't met him already?' Tante Maria demanded

  at once while observing Jessica closely.

  'I should imagine I would know when I have.'

  'That's just where you're wrong,' Tante Maria argued. 'Sometimes you look at a

  man and you think "He's not right for me at all", and yet, when you get to know

  him better, you find out that he's the right man after all.'

  Jessica was beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable, for Tante Maria

  sounded very much like her own mother at that moment. 'The man I marry one

  day will have to share the same interests as I do.'

  'You mean it would have to be someone like Dane Trafford?'

  'I hope not like him at all!' Jessica replied at once, her insides recoiling at the

  thought, but Tante Maria was not finished yet.

  'If the right woman came along he would make a good husband,' she insisted,

  her eyes watchful.

  'Well, I'm not that woman,' Jessica stated firmly, and brought the conversation

  to an end with, 'I suggest that you rest for a while before Oom Hennie pays you a

  visit this afternoon.'

  The curious glances of Tante Maria's fellow patients followed Jessica from the

  ward as if they had heard every word spoken between them, and, for the first time

  in some years, Jessica felt a slight warmth stealing into her cheeks.

  Dane Trafford good husband material? she thought disparagingly. Never! She

  would have more in common with a plumber than with a man who looked upon

  every woman he met as a potential bedmate!

  Jessica was too busy that afternoon to give her conversation with Tante Maria

  further thought, but when she was alone in her cottage that evening, it sneaked

  into her mind, although she was fortunately capable of laughing it off and

  forgetting about it. She had something far more important to occupy her thoughts

  with, and that something was Tante Maria's operation the following morning.

  Dane Trafford would be assisting her, and she knew perfectly well that he was

  going to be critical.

  Jessica's supposition was correct. When she faced Dane across Tante Maria's

  prostrate figure on the operating table, his cool, assessing eyes made her feel

  slightly disconcerted. In green theatre gown and cap, with a white sterile mask

  covering his nose and mouth, he looked very much like everyone else, and she

  tried desperately to ignore his presence, but Dane Trafford was not someone you

  could ignore with ease. She felt very much like a student about to operate for the

  first time under the watchful eyes of her professor, and it was a damned un-

  comfortable feeling. Her confidence plunged to a dangerously low level, and it

  was at this point that the anaesthetist indicated that the operation could begin.

  With a silent prayer in her heart Jessica held out her ha
nd, and her confidence

  came flooding back from the moment the first instrument was slapped into her

  gloved palm. Dane Trafford was there, but he no longer posed a threat to her, and

  she worked on steadily with an efficiency her own critical mind could not fault.

  That was neatly done, Dr Neal,' Dane Trafford remarked when, at last, they had

  discarded their theatre garb and were enjoying a welcome cup of tea in the doc-

  tors' rest-room which was situated close to the theatre. Jessica looked up,

  gratified that he should compliment her, but what followed was nothing of the

  kind. 'One thing I must say for women doctors,' he said dryly, 'they usually make

  a much neater job of sewing up a patient than a man—but then needlework

  comes easy to women.'

  An angry nerve pulsed against her temple, but she controlled herself at once,

  determined not to be rattled by him. 'Is that your way of telling me that you didn't

  approve of the way I performed the operation itself?'

  Straight dark brows rose fractionally above mocking grey eyes. 'There's room

  for improvement, I must admit.'

  'Thank you, Dr Trafford,' she smiled sarcastically. 'That's most encouraging.'

  'What I'm getting at, Dr Neal, is that a man approaches an operation differently

  from a woman,' he explained, commanding her unwilling attention. 'To a man

  that patient on the operating table is just another patient, but to a woman it's a

  totally different matter. I'm not saying that women don't make good surgeons or

  doctors, but they do have the tedious habit of becoming emotionally involved

  with their patients, and that not only clouds their judgment, but it hampers their

  work.'

  'You think so?'

  'I don't only think it, I know it,' he replied, ignoring that hint of sarcasm in her

  voice. 'You hated having to cut into Tante Maria.'

  'Your notions about women in the medical field are archaic, but I'll admit that I

  dislike having to cut into anyone unless it's absolutely necessary,' she felt forced

  to defend herself. 'I've known too many people with parts of their body yanked

  out unnecessarily because of a knife- happy surgeon.'

  A strong, long-fingered hand gestured in a dismissive manner. 'I won't argue

  with you in that respect, but it's your capabilities as a surgeon that we're

  discussing.'

  Jessica placed her empty cup in the tray and sighed audibly. 'I presume you're