Kitabı oku: «Prince Charming of Harley Street», sayfa 2

‘I’ll just see you safely in,’ Rose said, and before Vicki could protest, she was out of the car and around the other side, helping her out.

Vicki smiled at her. ‘Are you always this capable?’ she said.

Rose smiled back. ‘I can’t help it. I was always the Guide who finished her badges long before anyone else did. The one who got the campfire going even when it was raining. It’s social occasions that get to me. Doing is better than talking, if you know what I mean? Although I’m getting better at that. Needs must. In my other life I’m a nurse.’

Vicki frowned. ‘Why are you covering for Tiggy as the receptionist? Oops, I mean personal assistant. That’s how Tiggy prefers to be referred to. She’s a sweetheart, but she thinks it’s important everyone knows their place. Titles are important to her. And not just work ones either.’

‘The job I was offered was as receptionist. I used to work as a medical secretary before I did my nurse training. I was happy to do either since I just wanted something short term.’

Vicki pulled a bunch of keys from her bag and opened her front door. ‘I can manage from here,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry that you’ve had all this dumped on you on your first day. I hope we haven’t scared you off. Johnny will need help. Would you be a sweetheart and phone the nursing agency and find out about a replacement for me?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out. You get to bed and I’ll see you whenever you come back to work.’

Vicki grimaced. ‘God knows when that’ll be. Jonathan made me promise not to come back until I’ve stopped being sick. If it follows the same pattern as last time, it could be months.’

‘I’ll speak to him about finding someone to cover for you as soon as I get back to the office.’ Rose made her voice stern. ‘Now, inside and off you go to bed.’

By the time Rose, with an enormous sigh of relief, returned to the surgery, it seemed as if Lord Bletchley had been and gone. Jonathan was back at her desk with his feet up, flicking through the magazine Rose had skimmed through earlier. He was scowling.

‘Bloody paparazzi,’ he muttered. ‘Can never get their facts right.’ He flung the magazine aside and got to his feet. ‘How is Vicki?’

‘She was going to go straight to bed. Her husband’s on night duty, so he’ll keep an eye on her.’

Jonathan pulled his hand through his thick dark hair. ‘I can’t see her being back for at least a month. If then. Would you mind getting onto the nursing agencies? You’ll find the number of the one we use regularly in the diary. Ask if there’s anyone who could cover on a day-to-day basis for the next four weeks at a minimum.’

An idea was beginning to form in Rose’s head, but she liked to think things through before she spoke. Jonathan looked at his watch. ‘I’ll be in my room if you need me. I’ve a couple of phone calls to make.’

Could she? Should she? Rose rolled the idea around in her head. It would be the perfect solution. She was a trained nurse and there really wasn’t that much to keep her busy at the desk. Mrs Smythe Jones had told her that she hoped to be back in a week or two. Rose could combine both roles for a short time. She’d much prefer to be kept busy. And if they needed someone to man the desk while she was in with a patient, she thought she had a solution to that too.

The ringing of the door interrupted her musings. She pressed the door release and watched bemused as a teenage boy with a resentful expression was almost dragged inside by an irate-looking woman.

‘Come on, Richard,’ the woman was saying. ‘We might as well see the doctor now we’re here.’

The boy looked at Rose through long hair that almost covered his face and Rose bit down the stab of sympathy that swept over her. He had the worst case of acne she had seen outside a textbook. His face was covered with angry raised bumps and he looked utterly miserable. Underneath the bad skin, Rose could see that he could be a good-looking boy, if it weren’t for the surly expression and terrible acne. It brought back memories of her own teenage years, when she had felt as self-conscious with her height as this boy clearly did with his skin.

She smiled at the boy, knowing how embarrassed he would be feeling.

‘You must be Richard Pearson,’ she said. ‘If you want to take a seat with your mother, I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.’

All Rose got in reply was a grunt. Nevertheless he sat down, dipping his head so his hair covered his face.

His mother looked at him with a mixture of frustration and love. ‘I apologise for my son’s rudeness,’ she said. ‘He didn’t want to come.’ She turned her back to her son, leaned across the desk and continued, her voice lowered to a whisper, ‘I’m at my wits’ end. He’s refusing to go to school now. He just sits in his room, playing on his computer. I’ve tried other doctors. Dr Cavendish is my last hope. I heard from a friend that he helped her daughter.’ She glanced behind her again. Richard was engrossed with his mobile; either playing a game or texting.

‘I’m sure Dr Cavendish will do everything he can. I’ll just let him know you’re here.’ Rose certainly hoped he could help. Nothing so far had given her any confidence in his medical ability. Oh, he was certainly charming. The way he had been with Lady Hilton had made that evident, but no amount of charm was going to help this poor unhappy boy. At the very least surely he would refer him to a dermatologist?

She buzzed through. ‘I have Richard Pearson to see you,’ she said.

‘I’ll be right out.’ He really did have a lovely voice. Deep with just a hint of a Scottish accent.

As before, he was out of his room almost before she had a chance to put the phone down. He went over to the boy and held out his hand. ‘I’m Dr Cavendish. But you can call me Jonathan, if you like. Why don’t you come into my room and we can have a chat?’

Richard reluctantly got to his feet, and scowled at his mother.

Something in his expression must have caught Jonathan’s attention. ‘Why don’t you stay here, Mrs Pearson?’ he said, his voice as smooth as silk. ‘And have a cup of tea while I talk to your son on his own for a bit. Then if you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them.’

‘I’d like to come in with my son,’ Mrs Pearson said stubbornly.

Richard looked at his feet and shuffled them uncomfortably.

‘Richard? What would you like? I see from your notes that you’re seventeen so I’m happy to see you on your own. However, if you’d prefer your mother to come in with you, that’s perfectly all right too.’

‘On my own,’ Richard mumbled with an apologetic look at his mother. ‘I’ll be okay, Mum. As the doctor says, I’m almost eighteen.’

Mrs Pearson seemed unconvinced. Rose touched her gently on the elbow.

‘Why don’t I get us both a cup of tea?’

Mrs Pearson watched Jonathan lead her son away, but then let Rose guide her over to one of the armchairs and sit her down.

‘I don’t really want any tea,’ she said. ‘I just want to get my son helped. This time last year he was popular and outgoing, and he seemed so happy. But ever since the problem with his skin, he’s become so withdrawn and miserable. I keep telling him that it’ll get better in time, but he says he doesn’t care. It’s now that matters.’ She drew a shaky breath. ‘I’m so scared he’ll do something silly.’

Rose sat down next to the distraught mother. ‘There are medicines that can help. It’s often just a case of finding the right one. As soon as he knows we can improve his skin, he’ll be happier. It’s too cruel that he’s been hit with this just at a time when his hormones are already all over the place.’

‘I hope you’re right.’ The woman sniffed and then looked at Rose, puzzled. ‘I guess you pick up all sorts of information working in a doctor’s practice.’

‘I guess you do.’ Rose smiled. There was no point in telling her that she had spent the last four years studying nursing, and dermatology had been one of the last modules before she’d qualified. And as for understanding teenage angst, it hadn’t been that long since she’d been through it herself. She remembered only too well how awful it felt to be the odd one out. Somehow at that age you could never accept that others had the same feelings of inadequacy and that they were just better at hiding it. Not that she could imagine Dr Jonathan Cavendish going through anything like it. She doubted that he’d had a moment’s uncertainty about his looks in his life.

She chatted with Richard’s mother until almost half an hour had passed. Eventually, Richard emerged with Jonathan. To her relief the teenager seemed much happier. He almost managed a smile for his mother.

‘So take the tablets for a week and come back and see me. If things haven’t improved substantially, we’ll think of what to do next. One way or another, we’ll get on top of this.’

Richard’s mother looked uncomfortable for a moment. Rose guessed instantly that she might be worrying about the cost of the consultation and medication.

‘Oh, and by the way, the follow-up consultations are included in the price of this appointment. I’ve also given Richard a letter to take to his GP, who’ll be happy to give him the prescription on the NHS. I hope that’s okay.’

There was no disguising Mrs Pearson’s relief. Rose warmed to Jonathan. He had done that so gracefully she doubted Mrs Pearson or her son suspected for a moment that he was lying about the cost of the consultations. It was all there in the brochure she had read that morning. Thankfully, Mrs Smythe Jones had said on her detailed list that she’d catch up with the billing on her return. So many of their patients had different arrangements for payment that it would be far too complicated for a temp to work out who was to be billed what and when.

As soon as mother and son had left, Rose turned to Jonathan.

‘What did you prescribe?’

He looked at her baffled. ‘Amoxicillin. Why do you want to know?’

Rose felt her cheeks grow warm. She hadn’t decided whether to tell him she was a nurse, but now it seemed as if she had no choice.

‘I’m a trained nurse,’ she admitted finally. ‘A practice nurse, and I not too long ago completed a course on dermatology, so I kind of wondered what you thought you could do for him. I know topical retinoids can help when antibiotics don’t.’

His frown deepened. ‘A nurse? Why are you working as a…?’ He stopped in mid-sentence.

Rose had to smile at his obvious discomfort. ‘I’m on leave from my job for a few weeks for personal reasons. I was a medical secretary until five years ago, so I’m also qualified to do this job. When I was working as a medical secretary, I realised as I typed up the notes for the doctors that what I was reading really fascinated me and I wanted to know more.’

Oops. What was she doing? There was something in the way he was looking at her with those steady curious green eyes that was making her babble. And she was usually so reticent when it came to talking about herself.

He did look genuinely interested, although Rose had the strong suspicion that was just part of his practised charm. In which case, why on earth was she telling him? But she could hardly stop now. ‘Anyway, my boss encouraged me to study for my A levels in my spare time and then apply to university, and they accepted me.’ Try as she would, she couldn’t quite prevent the note of pride creeping into her voice. She was the first person in her family who had gone to university and her parents had almost burst with pride.

‘So why are you here?’ He sounded puzzled. ‘Why didn’t you take a nursing job? God knows, this city is desperate for trained nurses.’ His eyes were casually moving up and down her body, as if he were a cat and she the cream. She should have been annoyed, but she knew it couldn’t be because he found her attractive. Not this man. Suddenly she regretted wearing her old interview suit and primly buttoned-up blouse. Nevertheless, there was something deliciously unexpected about the way it made her feel. For a second she almost forgot the question.

‘Rose?’ he prompted.

Now see what she had started. This was where she should tell him about her home situation and despite his interested gaze she wasn’t sure he would really want to know.

‘Go on,’ he encouraged. ‘I’d really like to know,’ he said as if reading her mind. He leaned against the filing cabinets and folded his arms, his eyes never straying from her face.

‘Let’s just say family circumstances and leave it at that?’ She kept her voice light, but returned his stare directly. It really was none of his business. He was her boss but that didn’t give him the right to give her the third degree. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly the third degree, but it was more than she wanted to tell him.

He was still studying her intently and she could see the same thought processes going through his head as had gone through hers earlier. She was a nurse. He needed a nurse, and quickly.

‘Did you have any luck with the agency? About a replacement for Vicki?’ he asked.

‘I haven’t called yet,’ she admitted. ‘I was thinking…’ She took a deep breath. What if he hated her suggestion? For all she knew, practices like this wanted their nurses to have the right kind of accent. The right kind of image. Although there was nothing wrong with the way she spoke, her voice didn’t have the plummy ring to it that Vicki’s voice did.

‘That since you’re a nurse, you could fill in for her? Exactly what I was thinking. But what about the office? I’m not sure you could do both jobs.’

Rose hid a smile. She could easily manage both jobs if it were a simple case of workload, but he was right. There did need to be someone at the desk if she was in with a patient.

‘I know just the person for the office,’ she said. ‘She’s young, but keen. She’s at a bit of a loose end while she’s looking for a permanent job. I know she’ll be glad to work any hours needed, but she also won’t mind if you need to let her go at any time.’

‘Cool. Can I leave you to sort it out? Tiggy always manages that side of things. I’m afraid I’m useless at anything except the medical side.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Lunchtime! Where do you fancy eating?’

Rose gaped at him. There was no way she wanted to go to lunch with him. Not today, possibly never. She was having way too odd a reaction to him, and she wanted some time to examine what was happening. It had always worked in the past. Thinking about something logically made it easier to deal with. Besides, she had brought her own snack. She really couldn’t afford to eat out.

‘I brought a packed lunch,’ she said primly. ‘I’m quite happy to have it at my desk.’

His lips twitched, but he didn’t try to persuade her. He was probably relieved she had said no. No doubt it was his impeccable manners that had prompted his offer in the first place and no doubt he would have been mortified had she said yes. Somehow she guessed that the hired help going out with the boss wasn’t the way things were done in this part of London.

Jonathan ran down the stairs of his London consulting rooms and into the frosty spring air. He couldn’t help smiling when he thought of the temp. She was a lot better looking than Mrs Smythe Jones, that was for sure. Although he had a soft spot for the elderly receptionist, who had been there since he’d been in short trousers, he was looking forward to the next few weeks. Rose Taylor intrigued him. The baggy cardigan she was wearing couldn’t quite disguise a figure that would make most of his female acquaintances weep into their champagne. Luckily he was a connoisseur of women though; anyone else would have failed to see that she was a stunner under that shapeless cardigan and old-fashioned glasses. And he’d liked the way she had dealt with his patients. Solicitous but not overbearing. He couldn’t help but notice the way they responded to her. Even Lady Hilton, who usually was as narky as the dog she insisted carrying everywhere, had been like putty in her hands. She was the most intriguing woman he had met since—well, for a long time. The unusual mix of prickly personality, which reminded him of a teacher he’d had at school, and hidden sex appeal. How could a woman be sexy and sexless at the same time? He whistled as he made his way to the restaurant. It was going to be interesting having Rose Taylor around.

Chapter Two

ROSE waited until the door had closed behind Jonathan before she let out her breath. She collapsed in the chair. He was gorgeous—and that smile! Did he have any idea what it did to women? Of course he did. Rose’s experience of men was limited but even she recognised a man who was used to being admired. She had never met anyone like him. After all, how could she have? Those weren’t the circles she moved in. But good looking though he was, she was not sure whether she approved of him. She much preferred men who had a sense of purpose, men who had some ambition, and taking over the family practice in order to have an easy life was as far off ambition as she could imagine. Not that she’d had many boyfriends. Three at the last count and none of them could be called exciting. But at least they were reliable. Reliable and safe. Somehow she knew safe wasn’t a word that could be applied to Jonathan Cavendish.

And it was just as well she preferred sensible men, she thought ruefully. The chances of Jonathan Cavendish being interested in her were less than zero. All she had to do was look at that flame-haired bombshell in the picture with him. She was so perfect—there was no way she would be found absent-mindedly munching her way through a bowl of chocolates.

She glanced around the surgery. Enough of that sort of thinking. What now? He had left her his Dictaphone with his notes about the patients he had seen, so she could type them up and have them ready for him to sign on his return. And as for the rest of the afternoon? There were three home visits marked down in the book. What was she supposed to do while he was away? She swallowed a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

As she’d expected, it only took her thirty minutes to type up the letters on the computer. The note paper was as grand as the rest of the consulting rooms.

Just as she was preparing to eat her lunch, there was a frantic knocking on the door. She opened it to find a woman about her age with a young child of about two in her arms.

‘Please,’ she gasped. ‘Is there a doctor around? My daughter’s having difficulty breathing. I don’t know what happened—one minute she was okay then she started wheezing. My mobile’s battery’s flat or else I would have called an ambulance. Then I looked up and saw the doctor’s name on the door. Please help me.’

Rose could see that the young mother wasn’t far off hysteria. The little girl was having difficulty breathing but at least her lips were pink and the muscles in her neck weren’t standing out with each breath. The little girl was clutching a teddy bear as if her life depended on it.

She gripped the woman’s shoulder. ‘I know it’s difficult,’ she said, ‘but you have to calm down. Your little girl will get more distressed if she sees you panicking. Now what’s her name?’

‘Sally,’ the woman replied after taking a couple of deep breaths. ‘I’m Margaret.’

‘Could she have choked on anything? Inhaled something? A button? A peanut? Anything?’

‘Not as far as I know.’

‘Sally, I’m just going to look inside your mouth. Okay?’ Rose said calmly. The little girl looked at her with frightened eyes. Rose gently checked inside her mouth. There was nothing obvious blocking the little girl’s throat. If there had been, her breathing would have been much noisier. It was still an emergency, but not one that was immediately life threatening.

‘Okay, Margaret, come with me,’ Rose said, taking the little girl from her mother’s arms and walking briskly to the treatment room.

‘I was just having a coffee in the café round the corner and she was fine then.’ Margaret had calmed down a little, although anxiety and fear were still evident in her eyes.

‘Has this happened before?’ Rose asked. ‘Any history of asthma or allergies?’ There were two obvious possibilities as far as Rose could tell. Either Sally was having an asthma attack, in which case she needed a nebuliser, or she was having a severe allergic reaction, in which case she needed adrenaline. But which one was it?

‘Could you open your mouth as wide as you can, Sally? I’m just going to shine a torch down your throat. It won’t hurt at all, I promise.’

The little girl did as she was told. Rose shone the torch. As far as she could see, there was no swelling of the throat.

‘Is it possible she’s eaten a peanut? Or some other food she’s not had before?’

The mother shook her head. ‘She was in her high chair. All she had was the juice I gave her.’

In the background Rose heard the slamming of the door and then a voice calling her name. A wave of relief washed over her. It was Jonathan. At least now she’d have help.

‘In the treatment room,’ she called out. ‘Could you come, please?’

He appeared at the door of the room and took the situation in at a glance. He crouched next to the chair where Rose had plonked Sally back on her mother’s lap.

He touched the little girl lightly on the cheek. ‘Hello, there,’ he said softly. ‘What’s all this, then? You’re having difficulty breathing?’

While he was talking to the girl, Rose had located a nebuliser and some liquid salbutamol. As he started to listen to the little girl’s chest she held the vial up to him and he nodded approvingly towards her.

‘Margaret, do you know how much Sally weighs?’ Rose asked. ‘It’ll help us work out how much medicine to give her.’

‘I’m not sure, maybe about twelve kilograms. I haven’t weighed her recently. There’s been no need.’

Now that Margaret knew her daughter was getting the help she needed, some of the terror had left her voice.

‘It’s okay. We can make an estimate.’

Rose reached for a pulse oximeter. ‘I’m just going to put this on your toe,’ she said to Sally. ‘It won’t hurt either. It’s just a little toy I have to help me. Okay?’ Rose turned to Margaret. ‘It’ll monitor Sally’s blood oxygen levels. Tell us how much oxygen she’s taking in.’

The child was still having problems with her breathing, but now that her mother had calmed down, some of the panic had subsided and her breathing was becoming easier. Nevertheless, she still needed treatment.

‘I think your daughter is having an asthma attack,’ Jonathan said, taking the nebuliser from Rose. ‘I’m just going to put this over your mouth, Sally, and I want you to take slow, deep breaths.’

The little girl shook her head from side to side, the panic beginning to return.

Frantically Rose looked around then she had an idea. She lifted the teddy from the little girl’s arms and placed a second nebuliser over the toy bear’s mouth. Rose crouched by Sally’s side and, placing her hands on either side of the little face, forced her to look into her eyes.

‘Watch me, Sally. We’re going to play a game. Every time I take a breath, like this, Teddy’s going to take a breath. You copy us, okay?

It seemed to work. Her eyes fixed on Rose and the teddy bear, Sally copied every breath Rose took. Jonathan watched carefully not saying anything. Slowly, Sally’s breathing returned to normal and after a while Jonathan removed the mask from the little girl’s face.

‘Your breathing should be all right now, Sally.’ He turned to her mother.

‘This is the first time it’s happened? Never before?’

Margaret shook her head.

‘It probably didn’t seem that way to you but I think that some of the problem was that Sally was getting quite panicky when she felt her breathing was tight. We could tell from looking at her breathing that she was still managing to take plenty of air into her lungs—her oxygen reading was ninety-eight per cent, which is pretty good, even when she was at her most distressed. Even so, it was a very scary experience for you both,’ Jonathan explained.

Sally’s mother looked weak with relief. The little girl hid her head in her mother’s neck and closed her eyes. Rose knew that sleep would be the best thing for the child now.

‘We had been to the park to feed the ducks with a friend. Sally was sleepy so she went for a nap in my friend’s arms. When she woke up she needed to go to the bathroom, so I took the chance to have a coffee. She had been coughing in the park a little, but I didn’t think anything of it. It was only when we were in the coffee shop that she seemed to have difficulty getting her breath. I thought she’d be better in the fresh air but she kept on getting worse. Then I saw the name on the door. I hoped there would be someone who could help.’

She looked at Jonathan and Rose, her eyes glistening. ‘Thank you, both. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t helped me.’

‘I think it’s Rose who deserves most of the thanks,’ Jonathan said, straightening. He looked at her as if she puzzled him—as if she were a crossword and he was missing several clues.

‘You should see your own doctor as soon as you can. I suspect Sally is going to need regular medication for a while,’ he told Margaret.

Rose was turning over what Sally’s mother had said.

‘Do you have pets, Margaret?’

‘No, we don’t. Sally’s dad is allergic to animal fur.’

‘What about this friend? The one you met in the park?’

‘Linda? Oh, yes. She has about five cats. She loves them and is always rescuing another one.’

Rose caught Jonathan’s eye and knew he was thinking the same thing she was.

‘I think we might have found the culprit. It’s possible your daughter is allergic to cat fur. Perhaps there were cat hairs clinging to your friend and when Sally fell asleep in her arms she inhaled some of the allergens. Anyway, it’s only a possibility, but one worth thinking about and mentioning to your GP when you see him,’ he said.

Margaret refused a cup of tea, but accepted Rose’s offer to call her a taxi. Ten minutes later she was climbing into the cab, her sleeping child in her arms, still thanking Jonathan and Rose effusively.

When they had left, Rose turned to Jonathan. ‘I hope you’re all right with me bringing them in. I realise it wasn’t anything to do with your practice and if I had messed up, you could have been held liable.’

Jonathan looked at her his expression serious. ‘And if I told you that it was unforgivable, that you have never to help a passer-by again, what would you say?’

‘I would say that you need to find another temp,’ Rose replied hotly, before she noticed that corners of his mouth had lifted in a smile. ‘You’re kidding, right?’ she said, embarrassed she had jumped to the wrong conclusion so quickly.

‘Of course I’m kidding,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t dream of employing someone who would think of rules before they acted. That wouldn’t be right and…’ his smile grew wider and Rose felt the strangest feeling in the pit of her stomach “…so boring.’

He levered himself away from the wall against which he’d been leaning. ‘I think you’ve had enough excitement for the day. Why don’t you do the letters from this morning and then get away home?’

‘Letters are done, just waiting for your signature,’ Rose replied. What on earth did he think she’d being doing while he’d been out to lunch? She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s only two o’clock. I can’t possibly leave this early.’

He looked thoughtful.

‘How would you like to come on a home visit with me, then? From what I saw back there, the way you dealt with Margaret and Sally, you’d be perfect to step in for Vicki. What do you say? It’ll mean more money, of course.’

The nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach spread upwards. The look in his eyes was a heady mixture—sexy, naughty, mischievous. Rose had never felt so flustered in her life, but she was damned if she was going to let him see the effect he was having on her. She held out her hand. ‘You have a deal. And if you’re happy for me to find someone for the office, I can do that too. I’ll write down a name and number so you can check my references.’

He raised his eyebrows at her before shaking her hand. ‘Somehow I get the feeling they’re going to be first class.’

Rose tried to ignore the warmth that was spreading through her body.

‘Is it usual for you to take the office staff on a home visit?’ she asked.

‘Not really. But the visit I have down for the afternoon isn’t the easiest.’

For the first time since she’d met him, he looked uncomfortable. ‘It’s to Jessamine Goldsmith’s house.’ She was the actress, the one who had been with him in the photograph in the magazine. His girlfriend.

‘And let’s just say that it would make me feel much more comfortable having you there.’

‘Isn’t she your girlfriend?’ What on earth was Jonathan thinking? It was completely against the rules for a doctor to date a patient.

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘What makes you say that?’

Involuntarily, Rose’s eyes slid to the magazine.

Jonathan’s eyes followed hers. He looked none too pleased when he realised what she’d seen.

‘Let’s clear one thing up,’ he said. ‘Never ever believe what you see in these magazines. Jessamine Goldsmith is not my girlfriend and never has been. She’s a patient who just happens to move in the same social circles as I do.’

‘In which case…’ Rose raised an eyebrow while hiding a smile ‘…what are we waiting for?’

As he manoeuvred the car through the thick London traffic, he flicked a switch and the rich sounds of Debussy filled the car. It was a composer Rose loved. She sat back in her seat, aware of the scent of expensive aftershave mingling with the smell of leather. It was so much better being in this car without having to drive. All she had to do now was relax.