Five years after his wife and daughter had died, he was still trying to come to terms with the car accident and his loss, which had been splashed all over the newspapers. His grief had been compounded by the idea that he’d somehow caused the deaths of his family. If only he hadn’t argued with Leah. If only she hadn’t stormed out of the house in such a temper because of him. If he’d simply gone with her and Mollie in the first place. Then perhaps they would never have crossed paths with a so-called joyrider. Since the other driver had fled the scene, never to be caught, Rob would never know how events had played out, or ever find closure.
He’d been overwhelmed with so much support from friends and family he’d never been able to tell anyone the truth. That he was to blame and he didn’t deserve an ounce of their sympathy. The claustrophobia of his guilt had escalated when the papers had run the story, making him out to be the victim, when he’d known differently. That primal scream had built inside him, ripping him apart in its effort to find release. But he hadn’t been able to confess his role when everyone around him was already suffering so much. Instead, he’d taken the easy route and left everyone, everything, back in Scotland.
Of course it wasn’t Jessica’s fault that he was wary of the press but she’d already proved adept at her research. It wouldn’t take much for her to uncover the tragic tale he’d kept secret since taking up his post here. He couldn’t bear to have the details raked over again, or stand by and watch anyone else be put in a similar situation for the sake of one woman’s career.
Still, she was right about giving the fund some much-needed publicity. As much as it might make him a hypocrite, they were a fair bit away from reaching their two-million-pound target and he would accept any offer of help. No doubt that had played a huge part in getting the families to take part when they were as desperate as he to get a scanner for the department. It would mean quicker diagnosis and treatment, as well as minimising the disruption to the children.
‘By requisitioning the storeroom we’ll have space for parents and staff to speak freely about certain aspects of the treatment without upsetting anyone around them. Can I pencil you in for a spot?’
Give these investigative types an inch and they took a mile every damn time.
‘I have a very busy schedule. Speaking of which, I really need to start my rounds.’ He put the first foot forward to escape Jessica’s interference and check in with his patients so he could discuss their ongoing care later with the rest of the staff. Unfortunately, his new shadow refused to take the hint and teetered behind him in her high heels.
‘I’ll put you down as a yes anyway and you can give us a shout when you have a few minutes to spare. Now, the tech crew are set up on the ward, ready to roll. We thought it would be a good idea to film you talking to our little stars. I’ve already introduced myself but it might make things easier if they see a face they know and trust alongside the cameras.’
Tenacious. That was the word Rob would use to describe her. The most polite one he could think of, at least. It was also how he’d have described his late wife, along with ambitious, stubborn, selfish, irresponsible and terribly missed.
The argument that fateful day had been over what he’d perceived as neglect of their daughter while she chased her dream. Two adults should’ve been able to communicate better, discuss arrangements for childcare. Instead of one parent sneaking off to modelling assignments with a bored four-year-old in tow. If he’d handled the situation differently, been aware of his wife’s struggle with motherhood earlier …
He dodged away from the dark cloud threatening to settle over him, as it always did when he thought of the accident. The years had done nothing to ease the pain of his loss but there was no room for it here. If these kids were able to wear a brave face through everything they were going through, he could too. After all, they’d done nothing to deserve the hand they’d been dealt and he was guilty of orchestrating his own heartache. He should’ve been there for his family when they’d needed him most.
‘So … we’ll make a start, then?’ Jessica verbally prodded him.
‘Yeah. Sure.’ He could at least make preliminary introductions between the patients and the crew. That way he’d be around to make sure Jessica and co. didn’t overstep the mark and upset people. He knew better than anyone who was strong enough to bare their soul to the world and who was too fragile to handle the spotlight. Even with the best will in the world, the sort of attention a personal tragedy brought from the general public could break a person’s spirit. There were only so many pitying looks and sympathy one could take before it became too much to bear. But he had the very family in mind who could keep them all on their toes.
‘Hey, Max.’ As soon as the cameras were ready to roll, Rob perched on the end of his favourite patient’s bed, safe in the knowledge that nothing would faze this particular seven-year-old.
‘You gonna play cars with me?’ Max handed him a red pickup truck from the impressive collection of toy vehicles he had covering the surface of his bed.
‘I’m not staying long this morning. I have to show this lady around the ward, but I’ll come back later on to see you.’ In private.
The demolition derby going on in the centre of the bed came to an abrupt end. ‘She’s gonna put me on TV.’
‘Yes. If that’s what you want.’ Rob waited for the first indication that this was too much even for his resident funny man.
‘Wait!’ Max held his hand up to halt everything and Rob heard the collective gasp of the crew as they held their breath.
‘Is everything all right?’ All he had to do was give the word and this would end now.
‘We can stop for a while if that’s what you need, Max.’ Jessica cut across Rob’s concern with the practical solution of a timeout. Clearly she was used to being the one in charge. So was he.
The monitors were still holding steady as they charted the child’s vitals, indicating that this wasn’t a physiological problem. Max shuffled up the bed and sat straighter.
‘I just want to make sure my hair is okay for the cameras. Us TV stars have to look good for the laydees.’ He slid a hand over his little bald head, then slicked a finger over his non-existent eyebrows.
‘Maximus—’ Rob tried to hide his own smile whilst warning his tiny gladiator about making outsiders feel uncomfortable. Max was too busy rolling on the bed laughing at his own joke to take any notice. A sense of humour was an important part of recovery but sometimes the dark nature of it could take others by surprise.
He half expected to see the efficient producer wide-eyed with horror at one of the chemotherapy-based jokes which flew about here on a daily basis between the kids. Instead, those green-blue eyes were sparkling and her pretty pink lips were curved up into a grin.
‘Don’t worry—you’ll have all the girls falling over themselves to get to you, Max. Perhaps you’d like to say a few words to your future fans?’ She wasn’t the hard-ass he’d taken her for as she played along, regardless of the tight schedule she was probably on too.
With the air of a true pro, Rob’s charge stopped laughing and looked directly into the camera lens. ‘Hi, I’m Max. I’m seven and I like cars and strawberry milkshakes.’
‘Excellent. Although I’m more partial to chocolate ones myself.’ Jessica wasn’t appearing on camera herself but she certainly knew how to get the best from her subjects. She even had good taste in milkshakes.
‘Do you wanna see my central line?’ Max pulled down the front of his hospital gown to show off the long thin tube inserted into his chest used to administer his chemotherapy. He was so matter-of-fact about it there was no room for sympathy or shock. As far as a lot of the children here were concerned, they were sick and this was how they got better. It was as simple as that. The adults, on the other hand, had a much harder time of dealing with it. Max’s parents