She decided to be honest. ‘I wear the glasses because they make people take me more seriously.’

His laugh was unsympathetic. ‘And I bet you need all the help you can get, querida.’

She bristled at his tone and lifted her chin with an icy dignity that she’d learned from her mother.

‘I’m a good doctor, Jago.’ She’d had to prove it on ump-teen occasions in the past so it was nothing new. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Too right you’ll be fine.’ His voice was lethally soft and contained more than a hint of menace. ‘You’ll be fine because I’m going to be breathing down your neck every minute of the day. Everything you do, Katy, every patient you see, I’m going to be there, next to you, watching. I do not need another lightweight doctor in this department. If someone is sick on those designer shoes of yours, you’re going to have to carry on to the end of the shift. You’re going to have to prove yourself to me. And you don’t have to be as good as everyone else, you have to be twice as good. Or you’re out.’

Her heart was thumping double time.

‘I’m not lightweight. You’re making judgements about me—’

‘Based on experience.’ He moved towards her. ‘I know you, Katy. I know how you think. You hate confrontation. There’s no way you’ll cope with A and E. I guarantee that after one week you’ll wish you were back in paediatrics.’

She licked her lips, her whole body pulsating in response to his looming proximity.

‘That won’t happen and you’re totally wrong about me.’

‘Yes?’ His black eyes were as hard as flint. ‘When I knew you, you didn’t even have the courage to stand up to your own father. You were terrified that he might find out you were seeing me.’

She tried to back away but there was nowhere to go. The cold metal of the lockers pressed through the thin fabric of her blouse.

It was true that at eighteen she’d been terrified of her father. And as it had turned out, her fear had been fully justified.

But Jago didn’t know that, of course. He’d vanished into the sunset before any of it could get ugly, ignorant of the devastation he’d left behind him.

He’d never known what her father was like.

Very few people did.

‘Your father was a tough man—probably still is—but he’s a walk in the park compared to some of the patients we see in this department on a Saturday night.’

A walk in the park?

Remembering just what had transpired after Jago had left, Katy was shocked into speechlessness.

He stepped closer. ‘You don’t like disagreements or controversy and you hate all forms of violence. We do violence quite well in A and E, you know.’ His tone was smooth. ‘Saturday afternoons after football and rugby, nights after the pubs close. What are you going to do when the department is full of drunks? What are you going to do when someone turns round and hits you?’