Loe raamatut: «Risk of a Lifetime»

CHAPTER ONE

‘OH, MY...’

‘What?’

Annie looked up at Kate, registered the slack jaw and widening eyes, and started to turn her head.

‘Don’t look!’ Kate hissed, dragging her eyes back to the notes.

‘Don’t look at what?’

‘Total hottie heading this way. Absolute classic TDH. He can’t possibly be our new SpR, we don’t get that lucky.’ Her eyes flicked up again briefly. ‘OMG, he is gorgeous! I think I’m in love.’

She fanned herself theatrically with the notes, and Annie chuckled. TDH? OMG? ‘You can’t possibly be in love—’

‘You wanna bet?’ Kate sneaked another peek and her voice shifted up an octave. ‘He’s coming in! And he’s got a stethoscope round his neck...!’

Annie rolled her eyes and snatched the notes from her, just as the door behind her swung open.

‘Hi. I heard the paeds trauma call. Want any help?’

Well, she had to look now. Apart from the fact that he was talking to them, that voice was—well, compelling went a short way towards describing it. Dark, molten chocolate, with a tiny kick of chilli that left a lingering warmth in its wake.

There was no way his body could match that voice. She turned her head, smile at the ready, and her breath hitched.

The voice didn’t do him justice.

Neither had Kate, but then she’d been virtually incoherent. She’d been right to a point, though. Tall, dark and handsome for sure—and, yes, completely and utterly gorgeous, if you were into that type, but she wasn’t. Not that she had a type any more, but if she did, it wouldn’t be a man like this.

At all.

Broad, lean, toned, reeking of testosterone overlaid with fresh air and sunshine, everything about him screamed trouble! His slate-blue bedroom eyes were fringed with black lashes a mile long, and that lazy stride ate up the floor as he advanced towards them.

Her first instinct was to run, but then common sense intervened. He was a doctor, apparently, possibly their new registrar, and he was offering to help, and that made him definitely her type. The mind-numbingly gorgeous packaging didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was here, on a day when their staffing levels were stretched to the limit, and frankly if he’d had two heads she’d welcome him with open arms. But—sheesh. Did he have to be quite so luscious?

She resisted the urge to fan herself with the notes à la Kate and found her voice from somewhere.

‘Maybe. Don’t know much about it yet. Child versus car, possible head injury, but that’s all we have as yet. ETA any second.’

She stuck out her hand to him, determined to behave like a grown-up and not a hormonal teenager, and tilted her head way back to meet his eyes. ‘I’m Annie Brooks, by the way,’ she said, proud of her voice for not coming out like a demented squeak. ‘I’m job-sharing with Andy Gallagher. And you are...?’

‘Ah. Sorry. Ed Shackleton, James Slater’s new specialist registrar,’ he confirmed, those heavily lashed eyes the colour of storm clouds meeting hers and holding them. A warm, strong hand engulfed her own as that firm, chiselled mouth tilted into a smile, and everything inside her lurched.

Her pulse spiked, and she could feel heat spreading out from her hand, all the way up her arm, settling in the region of her locked-down diaphragm like a fireball.

And she was blushing.

No. Not a blush. A flush.

Different.

Worse, the heat from the fireball was spreading upwards now, creeping up her body towards her face.

Could he see it? Please, God, no—

Breathe, Annie!

The sound of the siren penetrated the swirling fog that was her brain, and she sucked in a breath and snatched her hand back, resisting the urge to wipe it on her scrubs, as if she could wipe away her reaction to his touch.

‘Sounds like we might be in business. Are we ready?’

One look at Kate and it was clear that she was. Ready for anything their new SpR cared to throw at them—unlike her. She was blushing and flushing and generally getting in a dither. Oh, this was ridiculous...

But Kate’s sensible self was back in charge, thank goodness, and she nodded briskly. ‘We’re good to go.’

‘Right.’

The sirens screamed to a halt, leaving a shocking silence, and her brain finally snapped back to life.

‘OK, we’re on. Let’s go and find out what we’ve got.’

‘Mind if I tag along?’ he asked quietly. ‘I’m Paeds trained.’

‘Sure. Feel free. We can always use another pair of hands.’

She pushed the door out of the way, oddly desperate to escape the confines of Resus. She didn’t do this—didn’t get hot and flustered and all quivery inside.

Ever. At all. Men were firmly off her menu, now and into the hereafter. Maybe longer.

And Dr Gorgeous was definitely a man.

She took a deep breath and walked briskly out to the ambulance bay, deeply conscious of the man keeping pace by her side. The doors of the ambulance flew open, the steps flipped down and the doctor in her kicked in.

At last.

She forgot all about him, forgot everything except the sobbing child and the look of terror on the face of his mother as the paramedics who’d brought them in reeled off his stats and the treatment to date.

And as she nodded at the paramedic and smiled at the mother, she could see Ed scanning the child with his eyes, assessing him rapidly. Good. She turned her attention to the mother.

‘Hi, I’m Annie, I’m a doctor, and this is Ed. We’re going to be looking after your son. What’s his name?’

‘Cody,’ his mother said unsteadily. ‘Cody Phillips. Oh, please, help him.’

‘We will.’

The calm, confident voice came from Ed, who was leaning over the trolley as they pushed it in, looking down at the boy. Cody’s right eye was swollen shut, a blue stain under the skin of his temple and cheek, and he was sobbing, but Ed just smiled and held his hand as if it was all fine. ‘Hi, Cody, I’m Ed. It’s all right, you’re in good hands. We’ve got you, mate. We’ll soon make you feel better.’

The low, quiet voice was reassuring, and Annie felt the tension drain out of her. Kind as well as gorgeous. Now to check out his clinical skills to see if they matched up. He was certainly doing all right so far.

‘You can lead if you like,’ she said, and he nodded.

‘Will you do the FAST scan, please?’

‘Sure.’

Like a well-oiled machine, the team went into action, and gradually Annie felt herself relax.

He was good, she realised. More than that, he was very good. She stopped watching his every move, and concentrated on what she was doing.

* * *

‘Results are through.’

‘And?’

He moved up behind her, so close she could feel the warmth coming off him. She forced herself to focus on the screen.

‘Well, according to the report he’s got no obvious brain injury and there certainly doesn’t seem to be any sign of it, but he’s got a fracture of the right orbit.’

Ed was looking over her shoulder at the MRI scan images, his head just in her line of sight, and he winced. ‘Must have been quite a whack. I wonder if he’ll end up with any loss of vision. The swelling could put a lot of pressure on that eye.’ He leaned in closer, bringing him right up against her. ‘Am I imagining it, or is the orbit slightly compressed?’

She shifted sideways a fraction. ‘Possibly. What a shame. Poor little Cody.’

She turned but Ed was still right there, studying the images on the screen, his chest just inches from her nose. She sucked in a breath, but that was a mistake, because with the air came a faint trace of soap and red-blooded man.

‘Want me to talk to the parents?’ he asked, the tingle of chilli in that low, melting-chocolate voice setting fire to her nerve endings again.

‘No, I’ll do it,’ she said briskly.

She ducked past him, and he followed her back to the child’s side where Cody’s parents were waiting anxiously for the verdict, his mother’s eyes brimming with fear as she watched them approach.

It wasn’t surprising. Cody’s father had arrived shortly after the ambulance, and although they’d eliminated any other injuries in the last hour, this was the thing that was worrying them all the most and frankly this family needed some good news. Annie smiled at them reassuringly.

‘OK, we’ve had a look at the report now and although he’s got a facial fracture Cody doesn’t have an obvious brain injury, which is great news—’

‘So—he’s all right?’ his mother asked, hope replacing the fear.

‘Well, nothing obvious has been detected in his brain,’ she cautioned, ‘but that doesn’t mean he’s out of the woods yet. He’ll be a bit concussed and have a horrible headache anyway, but sometimes the brain swells after a bump like this so he’ll need constant monitoring for the next few hours just in case, but they should be able to manage it if it happens. However, the fracture extends to his eye socket where his cheekbone’s taken the impact, so he’s certainly not unscathed. It’s going to be sore and because of where it is, it might have implications for his sight.’

Her eyes widened, the fear back. A new fear this time, and she pressed her fingers to her mouth.

‘He could go blind?’ the father asked, his voice rough with emotion.

‘I think that’s unlikely, but it might alter his vision in that eye. They’ll get the ophthalmic and maxillo-facial teams to have a really good look at it while he’s in here, but it might take time for the swelling to go down before they can assess it fully. As soon as they have a bed he’ll be transferred up to the paediatric intensive care unit, PICU, for monitoring and pain relief until they’re happy with him, and then he’ll be moved to a ward. They’ll talk to you up there about his progress and what they’re going to do, if anything. He’ll probably be in here a couple of days, all being well, but so far we’re cautiously optimistic that he’ll make a full recovery. Children are very resilient.’

His mother’s shoulders slumped—with relief? Worry? Guilt?

All of it. She knew all about a mother’s guilt. She lived with it every working day, but needs must and so far the girls seemed well adjusted.

Which was more than she could say for herself at the moment. She’d just caught another whiff of Ed Shackleton’s special blend of soap and pheromones, and she had to force herself to concentrate on talking to Cody’s parents.

‘I’ll chase up PICU,’ Kate was saying, and she nodded.

‘Thanks. Right, I’m just going to update the notes, and as soon as they’ve got a bed free, we’ll be moving him. You’ll be able to stay with him overnight.’

His mother nodded, and Annie stepped away from them, grabbed the notes and moved to the side to write them up.

Behind her she could hear Ed’s voice murmuring to the parents, answering their endless questions with sensibly noncommittal answers.

He’d been amazing. Calm, steady, gentle, soothing the distressed child with a competence that usually came with years of practice.

He was probably a father. Almost inevitably. Someone was bound to have snapped him up, he was far too good to be on the shelf.

Unless he was a player, but he didn’t seem the type. Far too wholesome and straightforward. Until the lights went out?

It was none of her business, she reminded herself crossly. And in any case she wasn’t interested.

At all!

* * *

So this was Annie Brooks.

He glanced across at her, writing up the notes while Kate kept an eye on Cody’s monitor and pottered quietly in the background.

Her back was to him, which meant he could study her without detection. She wasn’t short, but she certainly wasn’t tall. Her head would tuck easily under his chin. And her body was—well, just a body. Nothing out of the ordinary. She wasn’t fat, she wasn’t thin, she was just...womanly, he thought with interest. Feminine. Her curves were in all the right places, and she moved with grace.

Except when she was rattled. Then she moved awkwardly, self-consciously. He found that interesting, too.

Her mid-brown hair was twisted up in a clip at the back, out of the way. A strand had escaped, and she was fiddling with it, one finger twirling the little curl round and round.

It was a curiously innocent gesture, utterly unconscious, the sort of thing people did when they were concentrating hard, and he found it strangely touching.

James had told him about her. He’d said she was competent, kind and easy to work with, but he was sure that underneath the surface there was much, much more to her than that.

Unlike Kate.

There were hundreds of girls like Kate, nice girls, pretty girls, girls who made it clear with every glance that they were available, but Annie...

Annie intrigued him. For a moment there, right at the beginning, he’d had his doubts about her. She’d seemed ruffled by his arrival, somehow, distracted and unfocused, but then the ambulance had arrived and she’d changed.

It was as if she’d engaged a different gear, and it had all settled down. She’d become everything that James had told him she was, and he began to think he’d imagined that sizzle of awareness.

Until their glances had met again. For a fleeting moment the forget-me-not blue of her eyes had locked with his, and then it had been back, whatever ‘it’ was. Some crazy pull between them, like kissing dolls, the magnetic attraction drawing them inexorably together.

And she seemed to resent it, to pull back from it as if it was unwelcome, turning her head and carrying on as if nothing had happened, but it had, and she’d dismissed it.

He felt a twinge of regret. A little light relief to take his mind off the coming months of family trauma and upheaval might have been welcome, but it probably wasn’t sensible. He had nothing to offer, he wasn’t here for long and anyway it was never a good idea to muddy the waters with someone you worked with.

Kate, for instance. She’d made it blindingly obvious she was up for anything he might suggest, but anyway, even if he found her attractive, which he didn’t except in the most superficial and basic way, the same principle applied—

‘PICU are ready for him.’

He nodded at Kate and switched his eyes to Annie.

‘Annie?’

‘All done. Kate, will you go with him, please?’

She slapped the notes shut, put them on the trolley, shook hands with the parents and the two of them watched as Cody was whisked away.

‘Poor little boy. He’s going to have a cracking headache for a few days,’ he said softly.

Annie nodded. ‘Let’s hope that’s all. Good teamwork, by the way. Thank you.’

‘My pleasure. Thank you for letting me join you.’

Annie flashed him a quick acknowledging glance, the first time she’d met his eyes for a while now. Well, since that time, when he’d felt that sizzle of awareness again.

But there was no awareness now that he could see, and her voice was brisk and businesslike.

‘You’re welcome. It’s nice to know we’ve got someone on the team with Paeds training. You can never have too many. Right, I need to go and chase up some tests,’ she said, and he could have sworn she was running away.

From him? Surely not. He hadn’t given her any reason to feel threatened or harassed in any way.

So why was he so much of a threat to her?

* * *

‘Hello, my darlings! How are you?’

‘Mummy!’

The girls ran to her, hugging her in stereo, dragging her to the table to see what they were doing.

‘We’ve made you a picture!’

‘I did this bit, and Chloe did that bit—’

‘And Grace put the ears on the bunny, and MamaJo let us eat the last chocolate bunny!’

‘Did she?’ Annie laughed at her mother and shook her head. ‘I thought we didn’t eat chocolate between meals?’

‘But we had it for pudding!’ Grace told her solemnly. ‘MamaJo didn’t cheat.’

Annie bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself laughing. ‘I’m glad to hear it. And it’s a lovely picture. Thank you. As soon as it’s dry, we’ll put it up on the wall. Now, how about your bath, and then I’ll read you a story.’

‘I want to choose—’

‘No, it’s my turn—’

‘I’m choosing,’ she said firmly. ‘I think it’s my turn. How about Peter Rabbit?’

‘Yes!’

They ran for the bathroom, and she rolled her eyes at her mother. ‘Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll clear it up,’ she promised, and followed them.

Chloe, always the one in trouble, was diving headfirst over the side of the bath, trying to put the plug in, and she fished her back out, put the plug in and turned on the taps.

‘So what else have you done today?’ she asked, quickly stripping their clothes off and throwing them at the laundry basket.

She bathed them while they chattered, washing their hair—Grace’s angelic pale blonde curls, Chloe’s wildly tangled chocolate-brown mop—and then combed it through with conditioner, rinsed and blotted and fished them out of the bath to finish drying while the water drained out.

And all the time they were talking, telling her about their day, their friends, the helpers at the nursery, and amidst the lively chatter Annie felt herself starting to relax.

‘Gosh, we’ve all had a busy day. Come on, let’s go and snuggle up and have a story, and then it’s time for bed.’

She settled them down, tidied up the bathroom and went back to the kitchen.

‘Oh, Mum, I said I’d clear up.’

‘You’ve done enough, you’ve been at work. Here, I’ve made you tea. Come and sit down and tell me about your day.’

Annie flopped into the corner of the sofa and sighed. ‘It was exhausting. We’ve had one thing after another. I don’t think I’ve sat down for more than a few minutes all day. How were the girls? They seem lively enough.’

‘Fine. No problem. They really seem to like the hospital nursery. They were full of everything they’d done today.’

‘I noticed,’ she said drily. ‘They didn’t stop telling me about it all through their bath, but at least it’s a good sign.’

It was good. More than good. It was essential. Her mother was wonderful, and she couldn’t possibly have managed without her since the twins had been born, but she felt so guilty asking, so guilty burdening her with the girls. Although she’d said a million times that having her granddaughters wasn’t a burden, she knew it was. It had to be. They were a burden on her, and she was their mother, although if she had her time over again she’d change nothing. Well, except their father, who’d had the fastest pair of running shoes she’d ever seen, but that wasn’t their fault.

Chloe and Grace were the most wonderful things that had ever happened to her, and the fact that they were happy at the nursery was important for all of them. If the girls weren’t happy, none of them would be happy.

‘How’s Grannie?’ she asked, and her mother shrugged.

‘Oh, much the same. Stubborn, independent, won’t take any painkillers and then wonders why everything hurts.’

Annie smiled ruefully at her mother. ‘Are you OK, Mum? I know you say we aren’t a burden, but between my girls and your mother, you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.’

‘No, I’m not.’ Her mother brushed it aside with a dismissive flap of her hand. ‘What else would I be doing with my time? Arranging flowers in the church? Working in a charity shop?’

She got to her feet, the subject closed. ‘Are you ready for your supper? It’s Thai curry. I’ll just heat it up and we can eat it in here in front of the television, with your feet up.’

Annie smiled gratefully at her. ‘That sounds lovely. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day. Well, only chocolate biscuits.’

Her mother tutted and walked off in the direction of the kitchen, and she watched her go and felt guilt. Always guilt.

She should have got up, gone to help, but she was exhausted. It had been a killer shift, not made any easier by trying to dodge Ed Shackleton. Impossible. They’d seemed to end up working together all day.

Which was fine. Working with him was fine. He was great to work with. It was those little moments in between, when the pressure was off and he’d strip off his gloves and apron and fold his arms and slouch back against the wall with that casual grace...

She rested her head back, gave a little sigh and closed her eyes, but there he was, welded on to her retinas—laughing at something silly, sprinting to the ambulance bay, snapping into action when someone had arrested in Resus—images of him tormented her and she sat forward and dropped her head into her hands.

‘What’s up?’

‘Oh, nothing. New colleague. He’s a bit...’

‘Useless?’

‘Oh, no, he’s not useless. Far from it. He’s excellent. He’s just—I don’t know. There. All the time.’

What was it with a mother’s radar? She could almost hear the antenna twirling.

‘Single?’

She stuck the fork into her curry and lifted a chunk of chicken up to her mouth.

‘Mum, I have no idea. It’s irrelevant. I’m not interested.’

‘How old?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Thirty? Thirty-two? He’s a registrar.’

And he didn’t wear a ring, which meant nothing, of course, because she didn’t either and she was far from free. Single, yes, but free? Available? Not in this lifetime.

‘So what’s the problem with him?’

Nothing she was about to discuss with her mother!

‘Nothing. There’s no problem. It’s just—settling into a new working relationship. It’s difficult.’

Which was a downright lie, because there was nothing difficult about it. Not professionally. They seemed to work together seamlessly as if they’d done it for years, anticipating each other, communicating without words.

They made a great team.

She just didn’t want to be on the same team as a man like Ed Shackleton, because he played havoc with her hard-won peace of mind, and she resented that.

A lot.

* * *

Ed let himself in and closed the door softly, following the sound of running water to the kitchen.

‘Hi, Marnie. How’re you doing?’

His grandmother dried her hands and smiled fondly at him. ‘All the better for seeing you. How was your first day?’

He laughed softly and hugged her. ‘It was fine. Nice people, interesting cases. How’s Grumps?’

She shrugged, and he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes. ‘Oh, bit up and down today. You know. Living up to his name.’

He knew only too well, and he hugged her again, rocking her against his chest as she’d rocked him so many, many times over the years.

She let him hold her for a while, then sighed softly and pushed away, her hands, the hands that so many times had wiped away his childish tears, gentle on his chest. He let her go, tipped up her chin and stared down into her eyes. Her own tears now weren’t very far away, and he frowned and tutted softly.

‘I’m here for you, Marnie, you know that, don’t you? Any time, day or night. You just have to call me.’

‘I know that, darling. Thank you.’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t thank me. We’re all in this together. I love him, too, you know.’

‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘I think he’s going to need a wash and a change before we settle him for the night.’

‘OK. I’ll sort him out. You make yourself a drink and sit down and have a rest. You look done in.’

It took him a while to sort out his grandfather. It wasn’t helped by the fact that the old man was a bit feisty and resistant to his physio.

But when Ed tucked him back up in bed, settled him on his pillows and kissed him goodnight, the old man settled back with a sigh.

‘That’s better, Edward.’

The words were slurred, but he knew what his grandfather was saying and it was the nearest he’d get to thanks. His answering smile was a little crooked. ‘We aim to please, Grumps.’

‘Well, go on. All done now.’

Ed sighed and straightened up, the tenuous link broken. ‘Goodnight, Grumps. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.’

There was a grunt, but the old man was already drifting off, and he went out and closed the door softly behind him.

His grandmother was waiting in the kitchen, a cup by the kettle. ‘Tea or coffee?’

‘Oh, tea, weak. I’ve had too much coffee today.’

‘So how was he with you?’

‘OK. Bit argumentative.’ He gave a wry grin, and his grandmother smiled sadly.

‘I don’t know what we’d do without you.’ Her face crumpled briefly. ‘Hideous bloody disease,’ she muttered, a little quiver in her voice. ‘It’s so cruel, so wicked. He used to be such a nice man, so kind and affectionate, just like you. I can’t bear the thought of having to watch you disintegrate like him—’

‘You won’t have to,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ve told you that.’

‘So you have,’ she said quietly, and then she straightened up and looked him in the eye with that way of hers that told him she knew he was lying.

He felt a flicker of guilt and dismissed it. It wasn’t really a lie. She wouldn’t see him deteriorate like his grandfather—but possibly only because she was unlikely to live long enough for the disease to manifest itself. If he’d even got the gene...

He drank his tea, chatted about his day to give his grandmother something to distract her from the topic he was so keen to avoid, and then left her, driving the short distance to his rented house.

He hadn’t needed to rent it. He could have stayed with his grandparents or his parents. Both of them lived within minutes of the hospital, but this had been closer, and he’d used that as an excuse because he’d needed it. It was his sanctuary, his private space, his bolthole from the awful reality that was his potential destiny.

He parked in the carport at the back of the garden and let himself in through the conservatory. It was a lovely evening, a little chilly but he didn’t mind that. He needed the fresh air. He poured himself a glass of wine, took it back out to the garden and dropped into the swing seat, shifting it idly to and fro with one foot and letting his mind drift over the day.

And centre stage was Annie Brooks.

She was older than him. Mid-thirties? Maybe late? He didn’t know exactly, but she was consultant grade and even with his rigid focus on his career he hadn’t got there yet. Just this last rung on the ladder to go and he’d be able to look for a consultant’s post.

Where would he be then?

London? Back to Great Ormond Street, maybe.

Not here, that was for sure. Once his grandfather had gone, there would be nothing to keep him here in this quiet coastal backwater where nothing much ever happened.

At least, it hadn’t in the last thirty-two years, and he had no reason to believe it would happen now just because he’d come home to watch his grandfather die a slow and lingering death.

He sighed, the image of his grandmother’s face as she’d looked at him in the kitchen triggering another twinge of guilt.

Did she really know he was lying?

He hadn’t lied, though. Not exactly, and she wouldn’t have to watch him disintegrate, not unless he got really unlucky. He’d told her he hadn’t had a positive result from the predictive screening test, which was true, because he hadn’t had the result at all.

He’d had the genetic counselling, the blood test, gone through the whole process right up to the bitter end. But he hadn’t taken that last step of hearing his fate, and he didn’t want to. It was his life. He could make his own decisions about it, and choosing whether or not to know the truth about his own destiny was one of them. Not telling his family about that decision was another, but it would stop with him, that wasn’t a lie, because he wasn’t having children.