Read Online Runaway Sister by Ann Jennings - Free Book Online Page B

romantic notions about him. Look at yourself, a pale nondescript-looking female in comparison to that black-haired beauty he has with him, and who obviously has more than a passing interest in him.
    She sighed, wishing that he hadn’t kissed her, because then she wouldn’t be wanting him to kiss her again. She didn’t want to face the possibility that it was an impulsive one-off occurrence. Common sense told her that it was, but her heart was hoping for more.
    The next few days continued uneventfully in the Maternity Unit, babies safely delivered one after the other, and she saw nothing of Adam Shaw. Usually they had some slack spells, but lately, thought Samantha when she was very tired one afternoon, there hadn’t been a slack moment. The Unit was bursting at the seams, and it was just as well that they had no complicated problems to deal with, as that would certainly have caused problems.
    It was at least a fortnight before Samantha and Jennie got time off together and were able to go to the canteen and have lunch and a chat.
    They made their way down the long corridor leading to the stairs up to the canteen. “My God,” remarked Jennie, “talk about a production line! The way the Mat Unit has been working these last couple of weeks, I reckon we ought to put in for bonus payments!”
    Samantha laughed. “Somehow I don’t think that would go down too well with the Nursing Officer. Humor isn’t one of her stronger points, and I think she would probably take you seriously if you suggested it.”
    â€œThen perhaps I ought to suggest it,” said Jennie mischievously. “You never know, she might even arrange payment.”
    â€œAnd pigs might fly,” retorted Samantha.
    On reaching the canteen they were disappointed to find that as they were late everything was off except SPAM fritters.
    Samantha groaned. “I don’t think I can face SPAM fritters,” she said.
    â€œRubbish,” replied Jennie firmly, “you’ve got to eat something. I meant to say to you earlier that you’re looking positively peaky. You need something solid and nourishing inside you.”
    â€œYes, but not SPAM fritters,” protested Samantha.
    â€œAs there’s nothing else,” pointed out Jennie, ever practical, “it will just have to be SPAM fritters.”
    Reluctantly Samantha followed her friend to the counter and duly collected her fritters, baked beans and chips. As she paid for it she thought to herself that she must be mad buying such rubbish; she knew she wasn’t going to be able to eat it anyway.
    She and Jennie easily found a table by one of the big windows as the canteen was beginning to empty. The one good thing about the Princess Mary’s canteen was that it was situated on the far side of the hospital, and had beautiful views out across the countryside.
    â€œThere,” said Jennie, tucking into her lunch enthusiastically, “with a view like this you can imagine you’re in a swell restaurant.”
    â€œUntil you look down at the SPAM fritters,” interjected Samantha ruefully.
    â€œYour trouble is you’re too fussy,” said Jennie. “They’re not at all bad.”
    Samantha toyed with the food on her plate and at Jennie’s insistence she did eat some of it, but it tasted fatty and sickly to her and she left most of it.
    Jennie chattered on, filling her in on all the latest news on which, as always, she was well informed. Of course, eventually she got on to the subject of Adam Shaw, which in her heart of hearts was precisely what Samantha was hoping she would do. Half of her wanted to hear about him, the other half, the sensible half, was telling her that she ought to be very pleased she hadn’t seen him lately, and to forget all about him.
    â€œI must say,” said Jennie confidentially, “that personally I’m a bit surprised at Adam Shaw flaunting his affair with that woman so