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  There were no thank yous or goodbyes from either of them, nothing the other could say, both just dealing with it the best that they could.

  Maria’s condition continued to worsen, so much so that when Elijah rang again to check on his sister and to say that his plane would be landing soon it was becoming ever clearer that he might not get here in time. Angus wearily closed his eyes for a second before he began speaking on the phone. Maria was sobbing in earnest now, scared to see Guido and scared not to, and finally Imogen made the decision for her.

  ‘You need to see your baby.’ Imogen said softly. ‘I’ll go to the ward and get him.’

  ‘Will you stay with me?’

  ‘Of course …’ Imogen soothed.

  ‘Not just while I’m with Guido … Till Elijah …’

  ‘Of course,’ Imogen said again, because she would.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Angus asked as Imogen blew her nose at the nurses’ station. She was waiting to be put through to the charge nurse on the children’s ward to say that she was coming up to fetch Guido.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Do you want me to ask Heather if she can swap nurses? You’ve been in with Maria for ages, it must be—’

  ‘I don’t think Maria needs a fresh face appearing at the moment.’

  ‘If it gets too much …’ Angus offered, but she just rolled her eyes and the conversation was terminated as the charge nurse on the children’s ward came to the phone and offered to bring him down herself. But Imogen declined.

  ‘I’ll come and get him. I’m going to hold him while he sees her, so it might be better if I introduce myself to him up there on the ward.’

  First, though, she went back into Maria to let her know that she’d see Guido very soon then arranged cotton sheets around Maria to hide the worst of her burns.

  ‘How do I look?’ Maria managed a brave feeble joke.

  ‘Like his mum,’ Imogen said gently. ‘He’ll cry because of the machinery, not you. Your face is fine.’

  Guido didn’t cry, just whimpered to get closer to his mum, and Imogen held him carefully, doing her utmost not to cry herself as Maria, aching for contact, pressed her cheek against her son and told him she loved him over and over. Even Angus was glassy-eyed when he came in to check on her, and finally when it was too much for Guido, when his mum wasn’t holding him as he wanted, when the pain and emotion were just too much for Maria, Imogen made the horrible decision and took Guido back up to the children’s ward, treating Guido as she could only hope someone would treat Heath if the roles had been reversed.

  Stepping into the children’s ward was like stepping into Santa’s grotto—reindeer pulling sleighs lined the walls, snowflakes were sprayed on the windows and a wonderful tree glittered behind barriers at the nurses’ station, only they didn’t put a smile on Imogen’s face.

  Dangerously close to tears, irritated by the nurses’ chatter at the desk, she told them that she was back and walked to Guido’s room. He was too confused to cry now, the police, the hospital, his mum, these strangers all too much. Utterly exhausted and bewildered, Guido almost jumped out of her arms and into the metal hospital cot, clinging to a teddy bear, curling up like a little ball and popping his thumb in his mouth. Imogen quietly stroked his hair as his eyes closed and waited till he was asleep before heading back down to Maria.

  As Imogen stepped back into Emergency she was greeted by a Santa Claus being pushed on an ambulance trolley and writhing in pain. ‘Strangulated hernia—

  where do you want him?’ the paramedic said, trying his best to sound serious.

  ‘I’ll take him.’ Heather grinned. ‘You’re finished now, Imogen.’

  Imogen glanced at her watch, surprised to see that it was already nearly one o’clock—the end of her shift. ‘What’s happening with Maria?’

  ‘She’s going up to ICU. They just rang to say they’re ready.’

  ‘I’ll take her up,’ Imogen offered. ‘I’ll go and get my time sheet. Just sign me off for one.’

  ‘Imogen …’ Angus called her as she headed out of the doors with Maria. Security was holding a lift for her, and the porters had sent an extra person along to ensure that the path was clear for a speedy run up to ICU. It really wasn’t a ideal time to stop for a chat.

  ‘Thanks for this morning.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘No, really, Heather or I should go over it with you. Come back down after ICU—’

  ‘I don’t have time.’ Imogen shook her head.

  ‘You have to make time.’ Angus pushed.

  ‘Really, I’m fine.’ Imogen said, gesturing to the porters to get going, and there really wasn’t much else Angus could say.

  Speeding along the corridor and then handing over the patient to the ICU staff, Imogen sat down beside Maria, not as a nurse this time but as a friend.

  At least until Elijah got here.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WITH his entire day almost taken up with Maria Vanaldi, by the time his patient was wheeled up to ICU, a lot of things had piled up for Angus.

  And not just at work.

  Grabbing a coffee, he headed to his office for five minutes to ring Gemma, hoping that whatever the latest crisis was to blow up at home, it had somehow been diverted. ‘Hey, Gemma.’ He heard the cold silence of her answer, but still tried. ‘Sorry about before and taking so long to get back to you—it’s been hell here.’

  ‘Well, it’s not exactly been a barrel of laughs here!’

  ‘We had this woman in,’ Angus attempted. ‘She’s the same age as you, her husband died, they’ve got a toddler …’ Only he could tell she didn’t want to hear it, which made it impossible to share it. Oh, he knew he couldn’t take it all home and, yes, it annoyed him too when she droned on and on about her own career, but sometimes he listened, sometimes he tried, and he really needed her to at least try today.

  It just wasn’t going to happen.

  ‘Can we talk about your family for a moment, please, Angus?’

  He didn’t bother to tell her that he’d been trying to.

  Instead he heard, rather sharply, how they were still minus a nanny a week before Christmas and how Gemma had to work tomorrow. And if there wasn’t already enough to deal with, there was something else gnawing at Angus.

  ‘It just doesn’t make any sense. I can’t believe that Ainslie would steal.’

  ‘She’s got money problems,’ Gemma pointed out. ‘Ainslie told you about that loan she had with her ex-boyfriend, well, maybe it was starting to catch up …’

  ‘None of that was her fault, though.’

  ‘Angus, whose side are you on here? I caught the nanny stealing—what the hell did you want me to do? Give her a pay rise?’

  Frankly, yes! he was tempted to answer, if it avoided all this!

  ‘So where is she now?’ Angus asked instead.

  ‘I don’t know and I don’t care,’ Gemma huffed. ‘She’s hardly our responsibility.’

  But to Angus she was.

  Ainslie had been with the family for three months now. She had lined up the job with his family from her home in Australia and though at twenty-eight years old she wasn’t some naive teenager, he didn’t like the idea of her being kicked out onto the street with no money, no reference and just a week before Christmas. She was way too old to be his daughter, but if, heaven forbid, Clemmie ever loaded up a backpack and headed to the other side of the world, he could only hope that someone, somewhere, would feel equally responsible.

  Just as he did now.

  And not just for Ainslie.

  Imogen was from Australia, had landed here just a day or so before and had walked into a nursing shift from hell. In mid-conversation with his wife, Angus watched the red light on his phone flash, indicating that someone else was trying to get through, then his pager began to beep and the balls that Angus juggled, as he always did, suddenly all paused in mid-air.

  Just this tiny pregnant pause as for a second everything just seemed to stand still
.

  Gemma’s voice came as though from somewhere way in the distance as whoever it was on the other line gave up and the red light went off. Angus snapped off his pager before the second shrill and there was just stillness as the only thing on his mind was the woman he had worked with that morning. He could see her so clearly it was as if she was standing in front of him, those pale blue eyes blinking back at him, her freckly, kind face full of understanding, and he knew that she knew.

  Knew, even though he’d denied it, that for him things were hell right now.

  ‘Angus.’ Gemma’s voice snapped him to weary attention. ‘You’re going to have to take the day off tomorrow or ring your mother and ask her to come down. I simply cannot miss this shoot—you know how important—’

  ‘Gemma …’ His voice was supremely calm, but there was an edge to it, enough of an edge to tell Gemma that she’d better listen carefully. ‘We’ve got more important things to worry about than a photo shoot, or whether or not I come in to work tomorrow, or finding a new nanny. Yes, I will see if I can get cover for tomorrow, but not so that you can go on your photo shoot. I’m going to ask my sister to watch the kids and then …’ He took a deep breath and made himself say it ‘… we need to do some serious talking.’

  ‘Hey!’ Lost in thought, Angus nearly collided with Imogen as he headed for the staff lockers. ‘I thought you finished ages ago?’

  ‘I did!’ Imogen nodded. ‘I just didn’t like to leave Maria on her own. I know the ICU nurses are fab and everything but, well, I got to talk to her, I guess I was there when she first came in, it just seemed wrong to leave her …’

  ‘How about a drink? I’m sure I owe you one.’

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘I can have a word with Heather,’ Angus offered. ‘I’m happy to speak to Admin about your hours …’

  ‘I sat down all afternoon.’ Imogen gave a watery smile. ‘I made it very clear to the ICU nurses that I was there as a friend for Maria and nothing else. I don’t want to be paid for it.’

  ‘How is she?’ Angus said slowly. He’d been asked to be kept informed but, given Imogen was here, he wondered if he was just about to hear the news they all expected.

  ‘Not good. Her brother arrived half an hour ago. She’s spoken to him, but she’s starting to get distressed …’ Imogen’s eyes filled up, ‘I brought Guido in again and she’s had a good dose of morphine. The anaesthetist is going to intubate her soon. To be honest, I couldn’t take it much more.’

  ‘What will you do now?’ Angus asked, not that it was his concern, of course, but he was worried about her, knew the toll today would have taken on her. The thought of going back to the cheerful, carefree world of a youth hostel certainly wouldn’t appeal to him today and he doubted it would appeal to Imogen.

  ‘I don’t know.’ She gave a tight shrug, blew her fringe skywards, and then said it again. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Maybe see your son …’ Angus suggested, though it wasn’t his place, but with what she’d had to endure today, with all that she’d taken on, it was surely right that he was concerned, surely right that he didn’t want her heading off alone. ‘Do you talk to your ex?’

  ‘Not about important things.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Look, maybe—’ Angus’s voice stopped as quickly as it had started. The most stupid idea had come to mind, that maybe she could stay with him and Gemma for a few weeks, help out with the kids while Gemma went on her shoot and while they found a new nanny, but as her eyes darted to his, for reasons he didn’t even want to fathom, he quickly changed his mind. ‘Come and have a coffee—I’ve got time.’

  ‘No, you haven’t.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Angus admitted. ‘But I’m already so far behind today that I’m never going to catch up. Have a drink …’

  ‘I’d really rather not …’ She gave a pale smile. ‘I’m not very good company.’

  ‘I don’t expect good company.’ He frowned at her pale face and lips and was really quite worried now. ‘You need a debrief, Imogen. I make sure our regular staff get to talk things through when there’s been a difficult patient. It’s hard enough for them, never mind agency staff, especially ones who have just landed in the country …’

  ‘I’m fine.’ She wouldn’t accept his smile and she wouldn’t accept his help. Except she wasn’t fine, tears were filling those pale blue eyes now, the tip of her snub nose red, and all Angus knew was that he didn’t want her to go, didn’t want her heading off onto the wet London streets, with no one to unload to. ‘How about you?’

  ‘Me?’ Her question confused him. They were supposed to be talking about her!

  ‘This morning didn’t upset you?’

  ‘Of course it did, but I’m used to it—it’s a busy hospital …’

  ‘You can never get used to that.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve been doing this for years and, believe it or not, we do get our fair share of trauma in Australia, even the occasional burn. But that, by anyone’s standards, was awful.’

  ‘Yes.’ Angus admitted. ‘It was.’

  ‘So?’ She demanded. ‘Who debriefs the boss?’

  ‘I get by …’ Angus shrugged. ‘I speak to the other consultants sometimes and Heather’s pretty good. Mind you, I try not to …’ His voice trailed off for a moment. ‘Well—as you said, I’m the boss.’

  ‘What about your wife?’

  A short, incredulous laugh shot out of his lips before he could stop it and it was all evident in his bitter, mirthless laugh.

  ‘You’re fine too, then?’ Her ironic words were the kindest, most honest he’d heard in a long time and Angus stood there. They both just stood there for the longest time, the moment only broken when Heather walked past.

  ‘Oh, there you are Angus. There’s a baby I’m moving over to Resus—not quite sure what’s going on but very listless …’ She gave Imogen a kind, tired smile. ‘I’m glad to see you, Imogen. I was actually going to ring you. ICU just called—Maria’s just passed away. Her brother wanted to thank you both for all you did for her …’

  There was a long silence. Heather bustled off, Angus telling her he’d be there in just a moment, and still he stood and watched as a fat tear slid down Imogen’s cheek and she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand. Angus cursed how times had changed, how it was impossible these days to comfort a colleague with a quick cuddle, unless it was one you really knew well, as it could so easily be construed as inappropriate. He didn’t even have a hanky to offer her, just a paltry ‘I’m sorry’.

  ‘She was never going to live …’ Imogen sniffed and then wept just a little bit more, before pulling herself together. ‘Told you I hated burns,’ she said, hitching up her bag up and wishing him a good evening.

  Inappropriate. As Angus checked over the baby, as he listened to its chest, checked the depressed fontanel, took bloods and started an IV, his mind was completely on the job, but later, filling out the lab forms and waiting to be put through to Pathology, his mind wandered back to Imogen. Oh, yes, it would have been inappropriate to hold her—because it wouldn’t have just been about work.

  The last year of his marriage had, by mutual agreement with his wife, been a loveless, sexless pit, but not once had he been tempted. Oh, sure, there had been offers and he wasn’t blind enough not to notice a beautiful woman, only Imogen wasn’t a classic beauty, Imogen wasn’t his type at all.

  But, then, what was his type?

  God, but he’d wanted to hold her …

  He actually shook his head as he sat there. He wasn’t going to go there—even in his head. They’d shared the shift from hell, there was bound to be some sort of connection between them and anyone would be worried about her heading off alone. But even after speaking to Pathology and hanging up the phone, despite not a single rustle of paper, as he sat there Angus could feel the winds of change whistling through the department. He could feel the unsettling breeze swirling around him and knew, just knew, that things couldn’t
go on the way they were.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘HI THERE!’

  Walking through the car park, cursing the snow that had started to fall, lost in thought, dread in every cell of his body and grey with tension, Angus did a double-take as the vibrant woman greeted him.

  Oh, my! was his first thought.

  She should never wear white! was his second.

  Wearing long, flat black boots, black stockings, black skirt and the softest grey jumper under a cropped black jacket, Imogen was somehow a blaze of colour with her red hair. There was a rosy tinge to her pale cheeks and those once fair eyelashes were now black too, a slick of mascara bringing out the blue of her eyes, and her soft smiling mouth was certainly pretty in pink.

  ‘Sorry,’ Angus blinked, ‘I didn’t recognise you without your uniform. How are you?’

  ‘Great.’ She smiled. ‘Well, I’m starting to get over my jet-lag anyway! I just popped in to Admin to hand in my time sheet—I forgot yesterday. Oh, and I nipped in to see Mrs Kapur.’

  ‘Mrs Kapur?’ Angus frowned.

  ‘She had a little girl, six pounds four and doing beautifully. She even let me have a little hold!’

  ‘That’s right, you were in the middle of a delivery …’ Now the surprise at seeing her out of uniform was rapidly wearing off, Angus regretted prolonging the conversation. He had merely been trying to be polite, but now all Angus wanted to do was head into Emergency and do what he had to. He really didn’t want to be standing in a car park, making idle chit-chat, only Imogen didn’t appear to be in a hurry to go anywhere.

  ‘How were things when you got home?’

  ‘Fine.’ Angus nodded and moved to go, before politeness forced him to ask, ‘How about you?’

  ‘Well, I’d hardly call the youth hostel home. I lasted about twenty minutes!’

  She had been great yesterday, Angus reminded himself, and like him would have had no one to talk to about it so it would be rude now to cut her off, not to ask the question she was waiting for.