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popped into a quaint fifteenth-century cafe for elevenses, even though coffee and biscuits awaited her return home.
    I'm tired of coffee and biscuits! she thought, rebelliously. The biscuits at home were always the same, wheatmeal without even a trace of chocolate. She settled herself in the window-seat so that she could watch the passers-by as they made their way to the big market. She ordered hot chocolate and fresh scones which, when they came, were running with butter and honey.
    With a sigh of contentment, she made inroads on a scone, idly watching the main street. It was Middleborough's only street of any length, and ran from the market, past the small council estate and the bus depot, finishing up at the school. The shops in the town were spread out, which helped to give the area character, she thought. True, there were a couple of supermarkets, but no big shopping precinct.
    Anna finished her scone and was debating whether or not to eat the second one when she saw a familiar figure pass by. Dr Rick Alexandre—and he wasn't alone.
    She pressed her face closer to the window, anxious to see who the woman was before the couple passed from sight, but she was too late. She was left with the impression that his companion was tall and blonde, but she didn't think she knew her. She didn't know any tall blondes except Staff Nurse Powell and it was unlikely that she appealed to Dr Alexandre. He would go for the more elegant, sophisticated type, Anna judged.
    Smiling sadly, she finished her drink and hurried away, her appetite gone.
    After lunch Anna sat deep in thought, her romantic novel unopened on her lap. Tonight there was a party in the Nurses' Home. They had great parties there or so she'd heard. Not that parties appealed much but neither did sitting at home reading to her mother, or running errands for Mrs Jenkins and Nurse Dixon.
    Idly, she glanced at the cover of her novel. It was a light Regency romance, set in the days when men were men and women did not need to masquerade as men, claiming equal opportunities, insisting on paying a half share on an evening out. Strange, she peered more closely at the herd on the cover, he resembled Dr Alexandre, though she could not see what colour his eyes were. The profile was the same. The strong nose, firm jaw, dark hair ...
    Mike. She ought to be thinking about Mike. He was the man she loved. She couldn't have Dr Alexandre, nor indeed did she want him. He was too changeable, blowing hot and cold without rhyme or reason. No, Mike was a good man. One day he would be a good husband, she supposed.
    Thoughts of marriage reminded her of tomorrow. Saturday. The day she would find out what being a woman was all about. Anna's hands felt clammy and she wiped them on the tartan rug covering her knees. It was cold on the verandah but it was the only place she could be alone with her thoughts. What would Mike's love-making be like, she wondered. Just the thought of it frightened her. Twenty-one and she'd never been to bed with a man! How the younger students would laugh. On her first ward there had been a pupil nurse who continually boasted about her sexual experiences. Anna recalled how this girl had jeered at another student when the student admitted that she'd never had intercourse.
    Anna coloured. She felt feverish and apprehensive. She pressed her clammy hands to her burning cheeks. How would she cope? Would Mike make allowances for her inexperience? Questions went around and around her brain, making her dizzy. Well, tomorrow she would find the answers to those questions. And the prospect terrified her.
    'Anna!' Mrs Jenkins' soft Welsh voice came from somewhere Within the house and Anna was glad to get away from her nightmare thoughts.
    'Ah, you're here then!' Mrs Jenkins sounded delighted and Anna smiled. She liked the housekeeper and only wished Nurse Dixon was more like her. Then her smile faded as her troubled eyes met Dr Alexandre's.
    Her fever vanished and she felt cold all over.