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basement corridor. But they took the overland route and by the time they arrived, despite the sleety bleakness of the weather outside, Merrin was hot and uncomfortable. The back of her neck was sweaty beneath the weight of her plait and she was unhappily aware that it was more than twenty-four hours since she'd showered or changed her clothes.
    Once again the professor's appearance on the ward set nurses and junior doctors running and he went though his patients so fluidly that Merrin's head began whirling just from trying to keep up with him. It amazed her that he managed to keep the pace so fast yet still seemed to spend adequate time reassuring each of his charges as well as his or her patients.
    Finally, by the end of the round, she realised what it was. He did everything—examining his patients, listening to Lindsay's presentation of their surgical histories and results and the nurses' information, and talking with his patients' parents—simultaneously. It should have been chaos but with him it seemed the technique was so practised, his mind so focused and incisive, that he somehow managed it while still appearing to give each person his full attention.
    They finished at the main desk near the entrance to the two paediatric wards. 'Lindsay, try in my office for those notes on that baby last week if Medical Records can't find them,' he said crisply. 'One of my secretaries might have taken them up there. I'm on my mobile the rest of the day if you need me. Well, Dr Ryan?' Without pause, the consultant's grey eyes swung to Merrin. 'Still awake?'
    Vividly so. 'It's Merrin,' she told him breathlessly. 'Merrin Ryan.'
    'Merrin.' He seemed to almost hesitate at that but then his regard sharpened and he reached into one of the pockets of his white coat, extracted a bleeper and passed it to her. 'Merrin, see if you can find the owner of this. She's a medical house officer, one of the ones on duty for the weekend. Fair hair like yours but not as long, I think. I don't remember her name.'
    He was already out the door before she could say anything. 'Tell her it never bleeped,' he called. 'Don't bother staying for my round tonight. See you both tomorrow.'
    'That's strange.' Lindsay was looking at the bleeper their boss had given Merrin. 'Why on earth would he be carrying a medical house officer's bleeper?'
    Merrin felt sick. Even before she checked the side pocket of her coat, where she'd been carrying her bleeper all weekend, she knew she'd find it empty. Her fingers curled around the orange bleeper and she double-checked the number engraved along the top of it and confirmed her worst fears. 'It's not a medical bleeper,' she said soberly. 'It's mine.'
    The poor man she'd bullied into massaging her feet had been Professor McAlister. Afterwards, when she'd fallen so deeply asleep that she'd practically been in a coma, his worry about the safety of her patients had driven him to take control of her bleeper. What would he say when he realised that that comatose bully was his own house officer?
     

CHAPTER THREE
    Fortunately Lindsay didn't seem to expect Merrin to have an answer to her question about the bleeper, because her attention dropped to the paediatric case notes they both still clutched. 'Now, what have we got?' she mused. 'Just five discharge summaries here and a couple of prescriptions. We'll do them now together to save time then head back upstairs.'
    She showed Merrin the stationery cupboard behind the ward clerk's desk where the discharge forms were kept and then where to collect the drug charts to fill in the discharge medications they wanted to prescribe.
    'Read through the notes and make sure you understand what they've had done,' Lindsay instructed, giving her two sets of notes and showing her where to write the relevant details on the form which would be sent to their patients' GPs. 'Unless Prof says that he wants to see people again, follow-up should be by the GP. If he wants to see them again make a note here and