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said breezily. 'I decided it was time for some repair work while I'm still young enough not to need reading glasses.'
    Josh frowned. 'Why didn't you talk to me about it first? Have you been properly informed about possible risks? Who did the procedure? You should have checked with me about their qualifications. Your eyes are too important to meddle with lightly, you know.'
    'I make my own decisions, Josh.' Toni sounded unusually sharp. 'It's my life and I intend to make the most of it. Just like you do with yours,' she added defiantly.
    Josh took a step back and saluted. Then he grinned. 'I quite like the look,' he decided aloud. 'Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum. Where's the parrot?'
    'Go away,' Toni ordered. 'Go and get on with some work.'
    Sophie responded to the direction as well. She dumped the bag of magazines under her desk just as one of the handles gave way with the strain. She shoved the bag further out of sight with her foot. Looking at pictures of wedding gowns and articles on the perfect make-up for the big day, was the last thing she wanted.
    It didn't help that Ruby Murdock was Sophie's first patient for the day either.' She slapped the file onto the desk top and then ignored it as she stared out of the window. It still hadn't stopped raining. The weather over the weekend had probably been a contributing factor to how down she was feeling this morning. The glorious April weather of calm, sunny days, which were typical of Christchurch, had been obliterated by a wicked southerly blast. The torrential rain, sleet and bitter temperatures had kept Sophie cooped up in the small house she rented on the hills only a mile or so from St David's.
    The house was old. The view of the Heathcote River and the character of the house had charmed Sophie when she'd seen it at the height of summer. Now it felt damp and cold, and the fact that she had completely forgotten to order in a supply of firewood became a major omission. The weather wasn't the real problem, however. Nor was the house. Or even the magazines. Sophie knew quite well that the real problem was inside herself. She was lonely.
    Her consulting room was already quite tidy but Sophie fussed around. Ruby Murdock's file lay in splendid isolation in the centre of her desk. She moved the ballpoint pen a little closer and then lined up her prescription pad beside that.
    It would be nice, she mused, to be able to talk to someone about it. This unexpected grief at the termination of her engagement. Greg would understand. He might even be feeling the same way. No. Sophie flipped her white coat off the back of her chair and shoved her arms into the sleeves. She had tried to ring him on Saturday evening at 8 o'clock. And at 10 and even at 11.30. Deciding that he was probably on call, she had waited and tried again on Sunday evening, with no more success than before.
    All she had wanted had been some sort of reassurance that their friendship was still intact. That there was at least one person who would understand and sympathise with her. If Greg was feeling lonely he was clearly following a much more aggressive plan in dealing with it. Good on him, she had decided, trying to feel sincere in her appraisal, but it didn't quite suppress the resentment the abortive phone calls had produced.
    Sophie pulled a peak-flow meter and a clean mouthpiece from her desk drawer and positioned it beside the prescription pad. The tick of the wall clock caught her attention and Sophie sighed. Maybe a quick coffee would restore her usual enthusiasm for her job.
    Josh was in the staffroom. He was staring into the specimen fridge.
    'Hi, Sophie.' His smile was cheerful. 'Do you have any idea what this thing is in the jam jar?'
    'It came in with Mr Collins. I think Oliver is the person to ask.' She braved a look over his shoulder. 'Yuck!'
    They both eyed the shrivelled brown item lying on the bottom of the glass jar. It appeared to have some kind of mould forming around its edges.
    'Perhaps Mr Collins