Kingdom had phoned the Accident and Emergency Department from the Incident Room and had arranged to meet the Junior Registrar at eleven. With luck, she said, she’d be free for coffee. They could talk in the staff room. Now, Kingdom stirred sugar into his coffee and waited while the young doctor dealt with yet another inquiry on the internal phone. Jo Hubbard was in her late twenties, stocky, solidly-built, with broad shoulders and a pleasant open face under a startling haircut. The hair, tinted a rich auburn, was scissored in a straight line level with her ears. At the back and sides, beneath the line, it was shaved to a close nap. The overall effect was two-fold. At first, meeting her, Kingdom had thought it was ugly. Now, on closer inspection, it said something else. In this, and probably every other respect, Jo Hubbard was very definitely her own person. She put the phone down at last and apologised for the interruption with a grin. She grinned a lot. Outside, while he’d waited in the casualty department, Kingdom had watched her stepping from cubicle to cubicle, bending to examine an ankle or a knee, reassuring the younger kids with a squeeze on the shoulder or a tickle under the chin.
