"She's so clingy Mum. If someone asked me a week ago if I thought Doctor Weatherill could be like this, I would say no. But now..." He sighed, dropping his head to gaze at the floor, the familiar living room carpet of his childhood home seemingly capturing his attention.

"She is human Gordon. It's natural this would have had an effect on her. I'd be more worried if she was bottling her emotions up."

"But that's just it!" He exclaimed. "I think she is bottling things up. There have been tears, of course. But tears are when things have happened, taking her by surprise. The rest of the time, she seems distant... but... clingy at the same time."

Betty Ormerod moved to lay an arm across her son's back. "Just be patient. Let her know you're there for her, and that you're willing to listen when she wants to talk."

Gordon nodded. A feeling of guilt welled up inside of him as he recalled how he'd not been patient, how he'd shouted at Jill that morning. He'd rung her to tell her he'd arrived in Bournemouth. The conversation had been stilted. Her tone had been polite, kind even, but there had been something else, and only then, speaking to his mother could he find a word for it; wary. She'd been wary as she spoke, her words deliberate and carefully chosen, as if afraid he'd speak harshly to her again. It was no use phoning her again, the issue would have to be addressed face-to-face. He released a heavy sigh and turned to face his mother. "I know I've only just arrived... But would you mind if I took the children back home tomorrow. I'm not keen on leaving Jill for too long."

"Of course not." Betty smiled with sympathy. "Although I suspect if she's that het up about you driving, if would be better if you don't tell her you're coming home early."

"I think you're right. Thanks Mum, it's helped to talk it over."

"You're welcome. Now, since you've got a long drive ahead of you, don't you think you should be heading up to bed? You'll need a good night's sleep."

Gordon smiled, memories of his childhood flooding back. "Of course Mum. Goodnight." He kissed her cheek then made his way up to the room that had been his for the first 22 years of his life. Despite his Mum's words, he knew sleep would not come immediately. He had to think long and hard about how he'd address the issues he'd been so long avoiding with Jill.


She sat in the living room, staring blankly at the orange wall opposite her, not even dwelling on how garish and awful she thought it was. Normally, she would have welcomed an empty house. She was able to read from cover to cover the latest issue of the Lancet, or pick out the medical articles from the new Nature. But, now, she had no concentration for those things. She'd picked up the journal, opening it to an article she'd marked as being of particular interest. But her attention had drifted, her thoughts taken up by one thing; Gordon.

It was Sunday, he wasn't due back until the following day. Still, she couldn't help but feel an all-consuming worry about the drive he was to take. It was only a week ago that her world had fallen apart, albeit for only a few hours. She couldn't bear the thought that this time, it could be permanent.

She hated to admit to herself that she'd been a wreck after Gordon had left for Bournemouth. He'd rung the house to tell her he'd arrived, thus easing her worry somewhat, though the conversation had been incredibly stilted.

Remembering that conversation made Jill think back to how she'd acted before he'd left. Her actions had been pathetic, embarrassing. She'd tried to apologise over the telephone, but the shame still too raw. Instead of uttering the five letter word, she chose to end the phone call. The atmosphere between them remained strained.

Suddenly angry, Jill rose from the settee, straitening her spine and raising her head. She hated what she'd become in a week, she hated herself, she hated her actions. She was determined to do something about it. She marched into the study and settled herself behind the large oak desk. She opened the Lancet, uncapped a fountain pen and began to underline the article, filling the margins with copious notes in her swirling handwriting. There was no way she was going to allow herself to lounge around pathetically.

Work had been her sanctuary before, there was no reason why it couldn't be again.