Paddington Children’s Hospital
THE REDBRICK BUILDING loomed before Leo in the street; the turret, with its green dome, reminded him so much of Florence that it was almost enough to make him miss Tuscany. Then again, London had felt more like home than Florence, ever since he’d first come to study medicine here as a teenager.
As the car pulled to a halt, Leo could see Robyn Kelly waiting outside the hospital gates for him, her curly blonde hair gleaming brightly in the sun. When the Head of Surgery had asked him to come to Paddington to help out in the aftermath of the fire that had ripped through a local children’s school, of course he’d said yes. Robyn had taken him under her wing when he’d been on his first rotation and had been feeling just a little bit lost; back then, he’d appreciated her kindness. And he’d also appreciated the fact that she’d seen him as a doctor first and a duke second, treating him as part of the team rather than as a special case.
This was his chance to pay just a little of that back.
There was a small group of protestors standing outside the gate, holding placards: ‘Save Our Hospital’ and ‘Kids’ Health Not Wealth’.
Which was one of the reasons why his contract was temporary: Paddington Children’s Hospital was under threat of closure, with a plan to merge the staff and patients with Riverside Hospital. Not because the one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old hospital wasn’t needed any more—the fact that the place was full to overflowing after the recent fire at Westbourne Grove Primary School proved just how much the hospital was needed—but because the Board of Governors had had a lucrative offer for the site. So, instead of keeping the hospital as an important part of the community, they planned to sell it so it could be turned into a block of posh apartments. The Board of Governors had already run staff numbers down in anticipation of the merger, to the point where everyone was struggling to cope.
Leo’s lip curled. He’d grown up in a world where money didn’t just talk, it shouted, and that disgusted him. It was the main reason why he was drawn to philanthropic medicine now: so he could give some of that privilege back. So when Robyn had explained the situation at Paddington’s to him and said they needed someone with a high profile to come and work with them and get the hospital’s plight into international news, Leo had had no hesitation in agreeing. It was a chance to use the heritage he loathed for a good cause.
Even though he knew the waiting photographers weren’t there to take pictures of the protestors, Leo intended to make quite sure that the protestors and the placards were in every single shot. The more publicity for this cause, the better. So, right at this moment, he was here in his role as the Duke of Calvanera rather than being plain Dr Marchetti. And that was why he was meeting Robyn outside the hospital gates in the middle of the morning, instead of being two hours into his shift. This was all about getting maximum publicity.
He took a deep breath and opened the door of the sleek, black car.
‘Your Highness!’ one of the photographers called as Leo emerged from the car. ‘Over here!’
Years of practice meant that it was easy enough for him to deflect the photographers with an awkward posture, until he reached Robyn and the protestors. Robyn had clearly primed the picket line, because they crowded behind him with their placards fully visible; there was no way that any photograph of his face wouldn’t contain at least a word or two from a placard. And then he shook Robyn’s hand, looked straight at the cameras and smiled as the bulbs flashed.
‘Is it true you’re coming to work here?’ one of the journalists called.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Why Paddington?’ another called.
‘Because it’s important. The hospital has been here for a hundred and fifty years, looking after the children in the city. And it needs to stay here, instead of being merged with Riverside Hospital, outside the city,’ he answered.
‘Moving the patients to Riverside means the kids will have better facilities than at this old place,’ one of the journalists pointed out.
‘State of the art, you mean?’ Leo asked. ‘But when it comes to medicine, time’s the most important thing. You can have the most cutting edge equipment in the world—but if your patient doesn’t reach those facilities in time, all that fancy stuff isn’t going to be able to save a life. It’ll be too late.’
The journalist went red and shuffled his feet.
‘You don’t need flashy equipment and modern buildings to be a good hospital,’ Leo said. ‘You need to be accessible. What would’ve happened to the children of Westbourne Grove Primary School if Paddington had been closed? How many of them wouldn’t have made it to those lovely new buildings and all the state-of-the-art equipment at Riverside in time to be treated?’
He was met with silence as the press clearly worked out the answer for themselves.
‘Exactly. And I’m very happy for you all to quote me saying that,’ he said softly. ‘Talk to these guys.’ He gestured to the protestors, knowing from Robyn that several of them had been treated here years ago and others had recently had their own children treated here. ‘Find out their stories. They’re much more interesting and much more important than I am.’
‘I think you made your point,’ Robyn said as they walked into the hospital together.
‘Good,’ Leo said as she led him in to the department where he was going to be working, ready to introduce him to everyone. ‘Paddington’s is an important facility. An outstanding facility. And I’ll do everything I can to help you publicise that.’
* * *
Rosie Hobbes stifled a cynical snort as she overheard the Duke of Calvanera’s comment. Who was he trying to kid? More like, he was trying to raise his own profile. Why would someone like him—a rich, powerful playboy—care about the fate of an old London hospital?
She knew he’d agreed to come and help at Paddington’s because he’d trained with Robyn, years ago; but it was still pretty hard to believe that an actual duke would want to do a job like this. Who would want to work in a hospital that was currently full to the brim with patients but badly understaffed because the Board of Directors hadn’t replaced anyone who’d left, in line with their plan to move everyone out and sell the place?
Especially a man who was so good-looking and seemed so charming.
Rosie knew all about how charm and good looks could hide a rotten heart. Been there, done that, and her three-year-old twins were the ones who’d nearly paid the price.
Thinking of the twins made her heart skip a beat, and she caught her breath. It had been just over a year now, and she still found panic coursing through her when she remembered that night. The threats. The dead look behind that man’s eyes. The way he’d looked at her children as if they were merely a means to getting what he wanted instead of seeing them as the precious lives they were.
She dug her nails into her palms. Focus, Rosie, she told herself. Freddie and Lexi were absolutely fine. If there was any kind of problem with either of the twins, the hospital nursery school would’ve called her straight away. The place was completely secure; only the staff inside could open the door, and nobody could take a child without either being on the list as someone with permission to collect a child, or giving the emergency code word for any particular child. Michael was dead, so his associates couldn’t threaten the twins—or Rosie—any more. And right now she had a job to do.
‘Everything all right, Rosie?’ Robyn asked.
‘Sure,’ Rosie said. Her past was not going to interfere with her new life here. She was a survivor, not a victim.
‘I just wanted to introduce you to Leo,’ Robyn continued. ‘He’ll be working with us for the next couple of months.’
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