Three hours later Emily put down the crossword. The surgery seemed to be taking for ever. The waiting-room magazines needed to be tossed into the bin and replaced. Still, Emily had flicked through them all. She’d chewed her nails down to the quick. Now she was onto the edge of her finger. Come on!
At ten-thirty the theatre doors swung open and Marco D’Arvello strode through them. It seemed his focussed glance searched until he found her sitting along the wall.
She bolted upright off her chair as if on a spring. In seconds he was at her side. ‘It is good. All went well.’
Emily sagged. Thank God. A strange buzzing began in her ears and her face felt funny, numb. The room began to tilt. His arms came up to steady her shoulders and he steered her back into a sitting position. His head dipped towards her with concern. ‘Sit. Not so fast. Have you eaten?’
‘What?’ The room stopped its slow turn and the humming noises in her ears faded away. She closed and opened her eyes slowly.
‘Emily? Have you eaten?’
His hands left her shoulders and she felt strangely bereft, almost tempted to catch them back. ‘Must have got up too fast.’
‘Si.’
Had she eaten? She couldn’t remember. ‘Um. Raisin toast three hours ago.’
‘Come. We will go for a cocoa and some more of your raisin toast before you drive home and go to bed. Annie is not yet awake but will be back in the ward in about thirty minutes. I will return with you then to see her.’
Now she felt silly. Imagine if she’d fainted at his feet. ‘I’m fine. Just stood too fast. I’m sure you have better things to do than drink cocoa with me.’
‘I cannot think of one.’ He shrugged with that Latin assurance Italian men seemed to have and her brain couldn’t function enough to think of a good excuse to decline. She had to admit the thought of not being alone for another thirty minutes was attractive.
He went on. ‘I believe the prognosis for both your Annie and our friend June’s babies has improved significantly. I can do no more for the moment.’ He searched her face and seemed satisfied. ‘Your colour has improved. But another half an hour of waiting without food will not help.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come.’
Bossy man. Though she was feeling better. ‘You say that a lot.’
He looked puzzled. ‘What is that?’
She dropped her chin and deepened her voice in imitation. ‘Come!’
He inclined his head. ‘I will attempt to refrain.’
They smiled at each other. Such quaint speech patterns and it seemed he could cope with teasing. Luckily. What had got into her? She picked up her bag and glanced at her watch.
‘Then thank you. A hot drink would be nice. I start to get cold when I need to sleep. Just twenty minutes and I’ll come back.’
‘Si. Your daughter should be back in the ward soon after that.’
They turned a few heads when they walked into the tea shop in the hospital grounds. Or Marco did, Emily thought as necks swivelled. She didn’t actually know many of the staff, having worked in Maternity on nights most of her career, and not a frequent visitor to the kiosk either, but she’d bet someone would recognise them and spread the word.
This place was a minefield of gossip. Another reason she preferred nights.
There was Head of Surgery Finn Kennedy and Evie Lockheart, her friend she was to have coffee with later in the week with Lily. Evie was hospital royalty and heiress to the Lockheart fortune.
Evie and Finn sat, head to head, engrossed in a deep and meaningful conversation, and to her surprise Evie slid her hand across the table and gripped Finn’s hand. Emily couldn’t help wondering if something terrible had happened.
Evie’s father had been kind to her all those years ago when she’d been a sixteen-year-old mother of an ill prem baby, and he’d been the one who’d suggested she would make a great nurse. He’d even provided the reference needed to start work as an unskilled nurse assistant until she could manage the extra burden of study. She liked Evie.
Finn, she was just happy to stay out of his way. He was a grouch. The hospital’s most experienced surgeon, though rumours had begun to circulate that he suffered some kind of medical problem that was threatening his career.
Emily had enough on her plate. She didn’t want to get anywhere near more drama and she steered Marco to the furthest corner of the kiosk.
More heads swivelled their way and instead of ducking her head she lifted her chin and smiled and nodded back.
Maybe she was sick of being boring. Ungossipworthy. Now she was the mother of a pregnant teenager, cavorting with the new Italian O and G consultant, and flaunting it all in the daylight hours, she may as well hold her head up.
Something had changed her. Marco sensed the stiffening of her shoulders and resisted the sudden urge to take her elbow. Surely she was used to people admiring her? Even bruised around the eyes from lack of sleep, she was a stunning woman.
He’d thought her attractive yesterday, but seeing her this morning when he’d left Theatre, she’d reminded him of a fragile Madonna and a strange urge to protect her had welled uncomfortably in his throat. A sudden desire to cradle her worried face in his hands and reassure her.
No doubt she would have something to say about him trying that and he shook off the uneasiness that feeling left him with. She stopped at a table that couldn’t be described as secluded but it seemed it would do. Marco pulled out her chair.
‘You are smiling? Something amuses you?’
‘Gossip.’
He glanced around. ‘In a hospital as large as this?’
‘Especially in this hospital.’ She followed his gaze. Tried not to look at Evie and Finn. ‘I hate gossip. It lives and breathes other people’s business. And here I am with the handsome Italian doctor who has operated on my daughter. I’m never seen with anyone.’
‘At least you notice something about me.’
‘You’re a bit hard to miss.’
He looked around. ‘I too despise gossip.’ The memories tasted bitter in his mouth.
Emily heard the underlying resentment and wondered where that had come from. The waitress arrived as soon as they’d picked up the menu and Emily put it down again and smiled at the girl. ‘We’ve only twenty minutes. Should we order food?’
‘Sure. Promise I’ll be quick. What would you like?’
She looked at Marco. ‘Scones and cream?’
Marco smiled at the young girl and she blushed all the way to the roots of her hair. ‘One hot chocolate, one coffee black, and two scones and cream. Per favore.’ The girl nodded and sped off.
Well, that was that. She studied his face. He didn’t look tired. So maybe he really did manage on four hours’ sleep. She was beginning to droop. She stifled a yawn. ‘So tell me how it went.’
‘Very well. No complications. A simple scope and shunt away from the narrowed opening into the bladder. Initial ultrasound shows good drainage into the bladder already.’
‘Do you think my granddaughter’s kidneys will be very damaged?’
His face softened and he reached across to touch her hand. Just that one stroke made her feel better. Comforted. His hand moved back. ‘This I cannot tell. We will hope not.’
What