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A Child To Heal Them
Louisa Heaton






Might saving a little girl...

...help mend their broken hearts?

When ex-doctor Tasha Kincaid escaped to Africa to teach, haunted by the loss of a young patient, she never expected to find now-widowed Quinn Shapiro—the doctor who once broke her heart. But a pupil is sick, and she needs his help! As they care for little Abeje, Tasha finds herself falling for Quinn again—could healing this child help them embrace a future together?


LOUISA HEATON lives on Hayling Island, Hampshire, with her husband, four children and a small zoo. She has worked in various roles in the health industry—most recently four years as a Community First Responder, answering 999 calls. When not writing Louisa enjoys other creative pursuits, including reading, quilting and patchwork—usually instead of the things she ought to be doing!


Also By Louisa Heaton

The Baby That Changed Her LifeHis Perfect Bride?A Father This Christmas?One Life-Changing NightSeven Nights with Her ExChristmas with the Single DadReunited by Their Pregnancy SurpriseTheir Double Baby GiftPregnant with His Royal Twins

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


A Child to Heal Them

Louisa Heaton






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07496-4

A CHILD TO HEAL THEM

© 2018 Louisa Heaton

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For the real Tasha, Bonnie and Lucy.


Contents

Cover (#uf3e57288-dd6e-5e89-afd4-1fbe4b084374)

Back Cover Text (#u46b88353-7614-54b8-aafc-0dc7e330384d)

About the Author (#u23c1c9a1-8080-5129-8571-3e37153c94aa)

Booklist (#u98f10401-55c8-56f4-8740-23428a3bea11)

Title Page (#u9a1440f6-e63e-59cc-abeb-b155cbbeec85)

Copyright (#u91c99019-b90f-5d53-9682-4c44571f706a)

Dedication (#u6b007ccb-c259-5074-af6d-719999af7597)

CHAPTER ONE (#uedeab9ec-d26c-5d73-943e-3cf3675860aa)

CHAPTER TWO (#u67cbf7ee-98db-5e62-b242-29a4f3dc55c0)

CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u51e8b19e-4b2f-5ef2-ba59-6f27268f222d)

SHE COULDN’T SEE the road. There were too many people criss-crossing in front of her. This way. That. Seemingly with no order to their lives.

Women were heading home from the market with goods balanced in baskets atop their heads, babies strapped to their backs in swathes of fabric. Cattle chewed the cud at the side of the road, as if bored with life, idling alongside market traders who were much more vibrant, calling out, selling their goods—brightly patterned fabrics, spices and vegetables—whilst loud pop music blared from speakers she couldn’t see.

Her nose was filled with the scents of food—fresh fish, caught that day, being the strongest.

Tasha Kincaid urged her off-roader forward, sounding the horn as much as she could. Thick, choking dust was being kicked up from the tyres as she revved the engine, desperate to get through the crowds, anxious to get back to the Serendipity, on the far side of town, because of her passenger, lying on the back seat, unmoving.

Children were not meant to be this still. This quiet.

The Serendipity had anchored just two days ago. She’d taken the children in her class to see it. The vast vessel, a floating hospital ship, sat there in the waters of the Mozambique Channel, waiting to give aid to those who needed it for free.

The children in her class had drawn pictures of the boat, and she’d used the lesson to teach them about kindness and giving. About helping others. They’d even been able to go on board briefly and talk to one or two of the nurses, who had generously given their time.

Maria and Rob were from Ireland and were volunteers, helping out on board for six months before returning to their paying jobs back home.

Back in class, she had pinned the children’s pictures to the peeling walls of the classroom, instantly brightening up the place with their happy colours. That had been the day she’d first found herself worrying about Abeje.

Abeje was Tasha’s star pupil. She tried not to have favourites. All the orphaned children in her class were special, brilliant and curious. But Abeje was different.

She had been orphaned at a young age after both her parents had died, and the only home she’d ever known was the Sunshine Children’s Centre. She’d never had a proper family, but she was bright and intelligent. A deep thinker. A philosopher. And she wanted to be a doctor.

The similarities between them had struck Tasha hard. She recognised that gleam in her eyes. That yearning and thirst for knowledge. To do well. She wanted to let Abeje know that she could be anything she chose to be—that Tasha would help give her that chance. That the whole world could be hers as long as she pursued a passion.

But on the day they’d visited the Serendipity—the day that Tasha would have expected Abeje to be at her most attentive, her most intrigued and excited—Abeje had seemed somehow off. A little listless. A little tired, and complaining of a headache.

All children got sick. It was inevitable. So when Abeje hadn’t come to school the next day Tasha had figured she was probably just taking a day to recuperate. Knowing that Abeje had no mother or father to soothe her brow, she’d thought it might be a nice gesture to go to the children’s centre and check on her, take her some pretty flowers to brighten her room. Just to let her know that she was being thought of and worried about.

But the second she’d seen Abeje, semi-conscious and sweating, Tasha had known that there was something to be worried about. With the matron’s blessing, she’d scooped Abeje up into her car and had screeched away in a trail of thick red dust in an effort to get to the hospital ship.

The vehicle hit a pothole and Abeje moaned as the car bounced them around in their seats. Tasha risked a quick glance. The poor girl was drenched through with sweat and the sun was glaring down at them, burning everything it cast its gaze upon.

‘Not far now, sweetie! We’re nearly there...just stay with me!’

Horrible thoughts were rushing through her head—meningitis, encephalitis. Maybe a waterborne infection? A slideshow of horrific images passed through her brain, courtesy of the books she’d once studied.

She could smell the docks as they inched closer. The heat, the brine, the dust. The fish caught during that morning’s outing were only now being brought back to port. Fruit, meat, chickens in cages were all piled high, the chickens squawking and flapping, the busy trade causing human traffic that she had to struggle to get through.

She cursed quietly, biting her lip, hitting the horn in frustration as the giant sides of the ship loomed over her—so near and yet so far. The car was surrounded by a thick crowd of people and she was making minimum progress.

Growling, she stopped the car, put her keys in her pocket, scooped Abeje into her arms and began to push her way through the throngs of people.

‘Excuse me! Sorry! Can I just squeeze through?’

Suddenly she was at the gangplank, Abeje heavy in her arms.

She ran up it, panting in the heat, sweat prickling her underarms, her back. The coolness of the ship’s interior was welcoming. The air-conditioning a blessing. For her, at least.

Desperately she tried to remember her way around the ship from the brief tour they’d taken a few days ago. The emergency clinic was down this corridor.

Hefting Abeje into a firmer grip, she ran down it and burst through the double doors into the clinic, where there was a twenty-bed ward. ‘I need help!’ she yelled at Maria and Rob, who were making up a bed with new sheets.

Tasha ran to a spare bed and laid Abeje down upon it as gently as she could. The two nurses moved towards the bed.

‘She’s sick! I don’t know what’s wrong, but I think it’s serious! Please help her!’

She stepped back as the two nurses rushed forward. It was hard to fight the urge to do something herself. To let go. To give her precious charge up into a stranger’s hands.

‘What’s going on?’

The male voice instantly cut through the haste. Authoritative. English. The sort of voice that made you turn around and pay attention to the speaker.

It was a voice she’d heard before. One that took her right back to her childhood.

To that moment.

Him.

It can’t be...

Surely she was wrong? Memories were fickle, and she’d done her level best to forget his very existence. How he looked. How he sounded. The voice that she had once closed her eyes to listen to.

Tasha glanced over her shoulder...

At the man that had once torn her heart in two.

Only now her heart was galloping, her head was pounding with incredulity and her mouth was dry, clogged with all the dust from the road. She was aware of sweat drenching her skin.

How can it be him?

How is he here? In this place?

They’d been children. She just thirteen years old. Him three years older. And it might have been an adolescent crush, something silly, but she remembered the pain and the humiliation all too well, even now. It was like being that teenage girl all over again.

‘Quinn?’

The doctor frowned at her briefly, clearly wondering how she knew his name, but then his attention was returned to Abeje, who lay still on the bed. ‘Tell me her symptoms. When it began.’

Tasha blinked hard, still not quite believing that he was here. Of all the places in the world he might have gone he was here. On this ship.

As if from a world away, unable to tear her gaze from his face, she began to relay Abeje’s symptoms, stunned into numbness and a creeping sense of hurt. The box she’d put him in, and all her feelings about him—the box that she’d locked and hidden away for all these years—was finally beginning to crack open, creating a canyon of a scar upon her heart.

* * *

There was something about the tall blonde who had just appeared in his clinic. Something weirdly familiar. But he didn’t have time to place her. He’d thought he knew most of the English people here in Ntembe, but obviously not.

Perhaps she was new? She had corkscrew honeyed curls, deep blue eyes and a mask of sun-kissed freckles across her nose. Cute.

But he didn’t have time to think about her, much as he would like to. She wasn’t the important one. The most important female at this point in time was the semi-conscious one lying on the bed—not the one who somehow knew his name.

Quinn examined the young girl, his stethoscope already in his ears, the metal diaphragm at its end already upon her clammy chest. She was about six years old, a little underweight, but not so much that it concerned him. She had a temperature of nearly one hundred and three degrees, sweats and chills. Drowsy. Flu-like symptoms.

His first concern was malaria. ‘Has she been vomiting?’

The blonde shook her head, curls shimmering. She looked terrified. Almost as if she were afraid to look at the little girl on the bed. As if she was shutting herself down.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Any family history I should know about?’

She shook her head, looking at him in apology, cheeks colouring.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Has she been given anything?’

There was a pained expression in those blue eyes of hers.

‘I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m just her teacher.’

He listened to her heart. It sounded good, if a little rapid. Her chest was clear at the moment. Checking her eyes and the palms of her hands, he saw she seemed pale, and the possibility of anaemia assured him that malaria was probably the case here.

‘Let’s get her on an intravenous drip and get some blood drawn so we can do a rapid diagnostic test. She’s probably going to need anti-malarials.’

‘You think this is malaria?’ the woman asked, heartbreak in her voice.

‘It looks like it. The bloods will let us know for sure. You’re her teacher?’

She looked frightened. On edge. Her arms were wrapped around herself protectively, making her look smaller.

‘Yes.’

‘Are any of your other students sick?’

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t think... I’m sorry. I don’t know.’

It seemed there was a lot she didn’t know. But he didn’t want to get frustrated with her. This wasn’t the first time a patient had turned up at the ship with no one knowing anything about them. Sometimes they’d get dumped there. Abandoned.

‘Can I sit with her?’

‘You’ve taken anti-malaria tablets before coming over here?’

She nodded.

‘Good. Then you can stay.’

There was something about those eyes of hers. Something familiar. Oceanic blue and just as deep. Thick, dark lashes enveloping them. Where had he seen them before?

He held out his hand, determined to find out. ‘Dr Quinn Shapiro.’

Hesitantly she took his hand, as if she’d been asked to touch a live, hissing and spitting cobra. ‘Tasha Kincaid.’

Tasha Kincaid. The name didn’t ring a bell. Perhaps he was mistaken about her being familiar somehow? Some people just had that type of face...

Though she seems to know me...

‘Nice to meet you.’

She looked at him strangely. Questioningly. Surprised. Relieved?

‘Likewise.’

* * *

Nice to meet him? Quinn Shapiro? Here on the Serendipity? Of all the hospital ships in all the world, he had to be on this one? Off the coast of Africa? What were the chances?

She didn’t want to think about what he’d done. What he’d said. About how he’d made her feel. So small. So unimportant. So ugly. Those feelings she’d stamped down on long ago, determined not to let them affect her self-confidence.

It had been a struggle for a while, especially because she’d been at such a vulnerable, impressionable age, but she’d done it. The only way she’d been able to carry on had been to pretend it had never happened.

Tasha sat by Abeje’s bed, holding her student’s hand. Abeje was sleeping now, her face restful in repose, her chapped lips slightly parted. Her skin was hot to the touch—boiling. Her small body was fighting a battle that had no definite outcome. The rapid test, which had given a result within minutes of their arrival, had shown that it was malaria.

‘Don’t you die on me,’ she whispered to her small charge, hoping that her just saying those words would make some higher power hear them and infuse the little girl with a fighting spirit. ‘Do you hear me? You’ve got to pull through this. You’ve got to fight it. You can’t give in.’

‘How’s she doing?’

Quinn’s voice behind her had Tasha leaping to her feet, her heart thundering like galloping horses, her cheeks flushing red. She turned around, stared at him, resisting the urge to start yelling at him. To humiliate him. To embarrass him the way he had once done her.

Trying her best to hold the bitterness back, she said, ‘She’s sleeping.’

‘That’s good. Her body needs rest.’

Yes, it did. So did she. But her own tiredness, her own endless, exhausting fear, was something she had to dismiss right now. Her body was once again thrumming to the presence of Quinn Shapiro, apparently having forgotten that years ago she’d made a decision never to be attracted to him ever again.

Who knew the human body could be so treacherous? It apparently had a mind of its own...was reacting to him in ways she couldn’t control.

He clearly didn’t recognise her. The last time she’d seen him she’d been thirteen years old, chubby and grubby, and he’d been sixteen. Just three years older, but seemingly so worldly-wise, so mature, so stunning. And so handsome. With a dazzling smile that had made her heart go pitter-pat.

Her newly teenaged little heart hadn’t stood a chance when Quinn had first appeared on her radar. Tall and rangy, with a blond quiff, captain of his school’s rugby team, he’d had an easy charm and boy band good-looks. She, on the other hand, had found comfort in food and books, and her wild mass of unconquered curls had earned her the nickname Nit-Nat. Just because she’d once caught nits and spread them to the other kids in the children’s home.

She’d never thought that was fair. It could have happened to any of them. Every time she’d itched and scratched, her fingers buried in the mass of her thick curls, the other kids would run away from her, laughing. She’d spent many hours in front of the matron, painfully enduring the process of the nit comb that kept getting stuck in the knots of her hair. They’d even used a special shampoo, but it had stunk, earning her even more nicknames.

Her misery had been punctuated with happiness at Quinn’s visits. She had been regularly ensnared by Quinn’s smiles and friendly open manner to the other kids at the home when he’d visited to pick up his best mate Dexter.

Her crush on Quinn had been absolute! She’d drawn hearts in her notebooks and put her initials and his inside them with a little arrow. Signed her name with his surname—Natasha Shapiro. It had looked so exotic, so stylish, so grown-up. Everything she had not been, but aspired to be.

She’d try to chat with Dexter, as casually as she could, trying to get information. Quinn wanted to travel the world. To be a doctor. To change people’s lives.

Could he have been any dreamier?

His dreams she had decided to make hers. She’d always enjoyed medical dramas on the television. Always liked to try and guess what was wrong with people and sometimes would get it right. So she had decided that she, too, would go to medical school when she was older. She would travel the world and treat people and make them better and everyone she tended to would be just so grateful to her. Thankful to her for saving their lives. She would be adored. Loved at last. No one would look down on her ever again...

But it hadn’t worked out that way. Following someone else’s dreams had only brought her nightmares.

‘I wonder if you could do me a favour?’ Quinn asked.

Once upon a time she would have jumped to do any favour he’d asked of her. But now she felt cautious. Wary of getting hurt again. Wary of awakening that mean streak he’d once unleashed upon her.

‘What is it?’

‘I need you to check on the other children in your class and at the children’s home. Could you do that for me? Report back if any of them are sick?’

She thought about his request. Was it possible that the others might be sick? She hadn’t even considered the idea. Once she’d seen the state Abeje was in her only thought had been to get her help.

‘You think they might be?’

‘It’s a possibility. The bloods show we’re dealing with the parasite plasmodium falciparum. It’s an aggressive strain. We’re treating with chloroquine and ACTs.’

Tasha frowned. ‘Because some falciparum parasites are immune to the chloroquine?’

He raised a single eyebrow. ‘That’s right. How did you know?’

She shrugged. ‘Oh, I...er... I think I read that somewhere. Before I came over here.’

‘Well, it’s just as a back-up.’

She thought about having to leave the ship. Leave Abeje behind. ‘I don’t want to leave her alone.’

‘She’s in safe hands.’

Of course. Of course he would say that. He still believed in medicine and his skill to save this little girl’s life. Her own belief was a little more battered. But then, as his words began to have more potency the longer they lingered in her brain, she thought about the other children in her class—Machupa, Tabia, Claudette, Habib and the others—all those little faces, all those little people she had come to care so much about. She knew she had to do the right thing and go and check on them.

‘Of course. You’re right. I’ll go right now.’

She had to get away from him. Needed some breathing room. Some time to think.

‘Wait.’ He held up his hand as she moved to slink past him. ‘I think maybe I ought to come with you—and you need to have a drink first. It’s the middle of the day and you’ve had nothing since your arrival. You need to hydrate.’

Her stomach was churning. How would she be able to drink anything? He wanted to go with her.

‘I can do it by myself,’ she said quietly.

What’s happening to me? How has he turned me into a mouse again?

‘I insist. Abeje doesn’t need her teacher collapsing on her as well, does she?’

Tasha sat down in her chair and looked at the sleeping girl. So young and already fighting for her life. How much more bad luck did she need to experience at such a young age? There was no one else to sit by her bedside. Just Tasha. And, yes, she did need to look after herself. No one else would do it for her. But she felt herself bristling at his suggestion. Ordering her about. Telling her what was best for her. Even more so because he was right.

I’m going to have to deal with it.

If the other kids were sick, wouldn’t it be better to have a real doctor by her side?

‘Okay.’

‘How do you like it?’

She blinked. ‘What?’

‘Your tea.’

He smiled, and the devastating power of it—the familiarity, the punch-in-the-gut strength of it—almost winded her. Those teeth... That dimple in his right cheek...

Remember what he did to you.

‘Er...milk. One sugar.’

His eyes creased as he smiled again, bookending the corners with lines that had never been there before, but that just increased his attraction. How did the nurses get any work done around him? How did anyone concentrate? Were they immune? Had they had some sort of vaccination? Because if they had then she damn well wanted one for herself!

She’d worked so hard to forget this man. And she’d thought she’d been successful. It had just been a crush, as a child—so what? He’d broken her heart badly—but who cared? It had been years ago. Years.

And it turned out he didn’t even recognise her.

Or remember her.

If she was so forgettable, then she wanted to make sure he meant just as little to her now.

She did not need his help or advice. She knew what she was looking out for. And the idea of spending more time with him when she wasn’t prepared for this unexpected onslaught only made her feel sick.

He was not the man she wanted by her side.

* * *

Quinn hauled himself into the passenger seat as Tasha gunned the engine. There seemed to be fewer people about now, the morning market trade dissipating, so she was able to reverse easily and begin the drive back to the Sunshine Children’s Centre.

Her nerves were on edge. She felt prickly. Uncomfortable. He still hadn’t recognised her and she was in two minds about telling him who she was.

If Abeje recovered quickly, perhaps there would be no need to tell him anything? But her gut reaction was that Abeje was in for a long fight and that it would take some time before they saw any signs of recovery. Malaria was an aggressive disease in this part of the world still, and she’d racked her brains to try and remember what she knew about the condition.

A single mosquito bite was all it took to get infected, and most people showed symptoms within a couple of weeks of being bitten. The terrible thing was that it could be fatal if treatment was delayed. She could only hope that they had got to Abeje in time. A combination of drugs was slowly being dripped into Abeje’s system through an IV. She hoped it was enough.

‘What made you come to Africa to teach?’

So he wanted to do small talk? Though she wasn’t sure if any talk with him would ever be small for her.

‘I just did.’

The desire to keep her life away from his scrutiny was strong. He’d already ridiculed her once. It might have been years ago, but that didn’t mean the pain was any less. Being with him now made her feel raw again. Unguarded. The wound in her heart, open to infection.

‘You’ve always taught English?’

‘No.’

‘What did you do before?’

She glared at him as she drove, before turning back to keep an eye on the road. It was none of his business.

‘This and that.’

‘Mystery woman, huh?’

Without looking at him, she knew he was smiling. She heard it in his voice. He really had no idea, did he?

So two-faced! Trying to charm a woman you once thought so little of.

‘What made you take a post on the ship?’

There was a pause before he answered, allowing time for the potholes in the road to bounce them around, so that their shoulders bashed into each other briefly before the car was righted again.

‘I needed a change. I’d spent some time working in British hospitals, but I felt like stretching my wings. I didn’t want to become stale, you know? Complacent. I needed a new challenge.’

‘Well, Africa certainly does that to you.’

He nodded. ‘It does.’ He turned to look at her. ‘Did you come out here for a challenge?’

What could she tell him? That she’d come here on pure instinct? That teaching at schools in the UK had worn down her spirit?

Such long, gruelling hours, weighed down by the gazillions of reports and lesson plans and resources she’d had to create. Hours spent on assessments and figure-juggling that would never see the light of day but had to be there in case the inspectors turned up. Weeks spent worrying about work politics and staffroom gossip and pressure from the senior management team to be constantly at the top of her game.

She’d just wanted to teach. She’d wanted to forget all the rest and get back to what she enjoyed. Seeing the face of a child light up with understanding. Being with children who were eager to learn. She’d wanted to get back to grass roots. Find her joy again. Her spirit.

Africa had always seemed to her an exotic place—both beautiful and dangerous at the same time—and after going to a seminar in which the speaker had talked about her time teaching in Senegal she’d found an agency and signed right up. She’d needed to get away from the everyday. She’d needed to find something special.

And she had. It had brightened her heart, coming here. Given her exactly what she’d needed.

‘I came out here to make a difference.’

He nodded in understanding. ‘I know what you mean.’

She doubted it. She imagined that Quinn’s life had always been rosy. Nothing too horrendous or upsetting for him. Surely he must have cruised through life? Privileged and well off?

Tasha drove on through the hot, dusty streets of Ntembe. She was glad that Quinn had made her drink that tea. She had needed it. And now she was hungry, too, but that would have to wait. They had children to check up on.

She parked the vehicle outside the centre.

The Sunshine Children’s Centre was a long, low building, with a corrugated tin roof and a hand-painted sign made by the children. There was a bright yellow sun in one corner, its rays stretching across the sign, behind the words, and in another corner, if you looked hard enough, beyond the accumulation of dust, there was a child’s face with a big, happy smile.

‘This is it.’

‘How many children live here?’

‘Fifty-three. Most of them girls.’

They got out of the car and dusted themselves down. ‘How many of them are your students?’

‘Ten—though others go to the same school. They’re just in different classes.’

‘We should check them all—hand out anti-malarials just in case.’

She nodded. Yes, it was best to err on the side of caution. Preventative medicine was better than reactive medicine.

‘Okay. I’ll introduce you to the house matron—her name’s Jamila.’

‘Lead the way.’

She led him into the interior, explained the situation to Jamila and told her what they wanted to do to check on the children. Permission was given for them to treat them.

Tasha was glad it wasn’t a school day, so the children were all at the centre, though some of the boys were out at the back, playing football. All seemed to be in good health. None of them were showing signs of illness or fever.

‘Looks like Abeje was the unlucky one.’

Jamila stepped forward. ‘Abeje travelled with an aunt back to her village two weeks ago.’

‘With Ada?’ Tasha asked.

‘Yes. The village is about a two-hour drive from here. Do you think she could have got infected there?’

Tasha looked at Quinn and he nodded. It was a distinct possibility.

‘I wonder if anyone is sick at the village? Is it remote? Do they have any medical facilities nearby?’

Jamila shook her head. ‘The Serendipity is the closest they have.’

Quinn frowned. ‘They might feel they’re too sick to travel. Perhaps we ought to go out there? Check on everyone?’

‘Do you have enough medication?’

‘We’ll have to go back and restock. Maybe get a nurse to come along, too. You’ll come, Tasha, won’t you?’

At one stage in her life she would have jumped at the opportunity. But this was different. She didn’t need to go if Quinn and a nurse were going. As far as they knew she was just a teacher. They didn’t need her. Besides, she wanted to stay here and keep an eye on Abeje. Taking a trip with Quinn was her idea of hell!

‘You won’t need me.’

‘Nonsense! As Abeje’s teacher you’ll be able to explain why we have to do this. Introduce us to the aunt. Talk to the villagers.’

‘I barely know Ada. I’ve met her maybe once. Perhaps twice.’

‘More times than any of us.’

The way he was looking at her was dangerous. As if he needed her. Wanted her. Desperately. And it was doing strange things to her insides. Confusing things.

Okay, so more hands on deck might help get the medication distributed more quickly, and she couldn’t expect him to take many medical personnel from the ship to help. Some of them needed to stay behind. To look after Abeje, for one thing.

She could feel her resolve weakening and she hated that. Just like before, she was being pulled deeper and deeper into Quinn’s world.

‘Fine. Okay.’ She nodded quickly, hating herself for giving in. Imagining already how difficult it would be to spend so much time in his company.

‘Great.’ He beamed. ‘And whilst we’re getting there you can tell me how you know me—because I sure as hell can’t place where you’re from.’

She froze as he walked back outside.

So there was something, then. He recognised her as being familiar, but couldn’t place her.

How would he react when he realised she was Nit-Nat? How would he feel? Would he have forgotten what he did? What he’d said? Who she was? How he’d destroyed her little heart in a matter of minutes?

She wanted him to suffer. To feel uncomfortable. To apologise and grovel for her forgiveness...

Part of her wondered if it was better just to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. To insist that they’d never met before. But a stronger part of her wanted to let him know their connection. Their history. To surprise him and have him see how she had changed. She was no longer a chubby, nit-infested, braces-wearing girl in secondhand clothes.

She had not changed for him. She’d just grown up and been battered by life in so many ways. Life had given her plenty of challenges—killing her parents when she was young, making her grow up in a children’s home, having Quinn humiliate her, her job destroy her and her marriage break down. And yet she had come through it all. Was still standing. Still able to find joy in her life. To enjoy it. To feel worthwhile.

Was fate, or karma, or whatever it was called, finished messing with her life?

She hoped so. But the fact that she was here and Quinn was here and they were together made her suspect that fate hadn’t finished putting her through the wringer just yet.

Tasha stepped out into the sunshine, shielding her eyes from the worst of the sun’s rays. She climbed into the vehicle, started the engine and turned to look at him, butterflies somersaulting in her stomach, her mouth dry.

It was time. She had to say it.

Just say it. Get it out there.

‘You do know me. I’m Tasha Kincaid now—but you might know me by my former name, Natasha Drummond.’

She saw him frown, think, and then his eyebrows rose in surprise as his eyes widened.

‘That’s right. You’re in a car with Nit-Nat.’


CHAPTER TWO (#u51e8b19e-4b2f-5ef2-ba59-6f27268f222d)

NIT-NAT? SHE WAS NIT-NAT?

When she’d first said her name his mind had gone blank. Natasha Drummond? Nit-Nat? He hadn’t recognised those names at all. And then a small tickle of a memory had suggested itself. A sense of something appalling. Something he couldn’t quite grasp, slippery and evasive. Something about that name being familiar. Something about that name being unpleasant.

Then he’d realised. It was something shameful. A memory he had tried to suppress... And then the memory had become stronger, fiercer, until it was roaring loudly, like a lion, right up in his face, and the hot breath of fetid shame was washing over him as he remembered what he’d once done.

He’d been fifteen years old the first time he’d become aware of her. Although perhaps ‘aware’ was the wrong word. She’d just been one of the many background faces at the children’s home where his best friend Dex had lived.

He’d always been fascinated by them each time he went to the children’s home, simply because of what they represented. He was one parent away from being there himself, having been raised by his ex-Marine father because his mother had walked out on them. The children at the home had been a bright example of what his life might have been like if his father had left, too.

He’d gone there for Dex, so that they could play footie, or rugby, or cricket. Or simply just go for a wander, try to hook up with girls. He’d never paid much attention to the other kids at the home, but there had been one stand-out girl there. But she’d stood out for the wrong reasons.

Overweight, always a bit sweaty-looking, she’d had a thick mass of hair that had never looked combed. Metal braces on her teeth.

And the worst thing...? She’d had a crush on him.

Dex had told him.

‘Nit-Nat’s got the hots for you, mate! You’re in trouble!’

‘Why do you call her Nit-Nat?’

‘She’s got bloody nits! They’re all caught up in that mop she calls her hair! They can’t escape! I reckon it’s one massive nest!’

He’d wrinkled his nose in disgust. Nits? They were always sending letters from school to parents telling them to be vigilant against nits. He’d remembered having them himself once, when he was about seven or eight—not that he’d been about to tell Dex that.

Dex had had great fun teasing him about Nit-Nat fancying him. It had been a running joke that never seemed to go away. Quinn had hated it. He’d worked so hard to perfect his image amongst his friends. He’d wanted to be known for going with the hottest girls of his year—not for the disgusting crush Nit-Nat had on him!

He’d tried to laugh it off, tried to ignore it, and he’d even once got angry with Dex for going on about it. In the end he’d let it wash over him, pretending to play along, pretending to be mortified so that the joke wasn’t on him but on poor, misguided Nit-Nat.

The crush had become more and more obvious each time he’d visited Dex—almost to the point that he hadn’t wanted to go there any more and had asked Dex to meet him somewhere else. That had worked for a while. He’d stayed away for a good six months. And then, when even he had forgotten about it, he’d made the mistake of calling in on Dex at the children’s home.

She hadn’t changed. In fact she’d seemed thrilled to see him.

‘Quinn! You’re back!’

She’d beamed a smile, revealing all that metal.

He’d been appalled. It wasn’t over.

‘Hi.’

‘You here for Dexter?’

‘Yep.’

He hadn’t wanted to give her anything. It had been embarrassing, the way she’d stood there—thirteen years old, her hair a frizzy mess and her round body forced into a dress that was at least one size too small. Those buttons had looked as if they were about to burst apart.

‘Haven’t seen you for a while.’

‘I’ve been busy.’

‘What with?’

‘This and that.’

‘Did you know there’s going to be a party this Friday?’

‘Nope.’

‘It’s for Lexi. She’s sixteen. We all get to bring a friend.’

‘That’s nice.’

‘Would you come as my friend?’

He’d stared at her in horror, and realised her invitation had been timed perfectly to coincide with Dex’s arrival down the stairs.

Quinn had looked at his friend, hoping he hadn’t heard, but it had been plain by the look of awesome amusement on Dex’s face that he had heard every word.

He’d been embarrassed, not at all happy that she’d had shamed him this way again when he’d been trying to be so cool and standoffish. He’d had to make it stop. Had to make that crush of hers end. And the only way he’d known how to do that at the time was to be brutally blunt.

Only it had somehow tipped over into cruelty.

He’d grimaced, walked right up to her.

‘You realise you’re ugly, right? And fat? And that there are so many things living in your hair they could do a nature documentary over five seasons?’

He’d looked her up and down, unaware that loads of the other kids in the home had gathered round to see what all the shouting was about.

‘If you were the last girl on earth I’d probably kill myself!’

He’d seen the look of horror on her face. The way her cheeks had flushed bright red. The way tears had welled up in her eyes and had begun to run roughly down her ruddy cheeks. And he’d hated what he’d said, but hadn’t been able to stop himself.

‘The only boyfriend you could ever get would be a blind one.’

And then he’d grabbed the gaping, gawking, laughing Dex.

‘Let’s go.’

Dex had ripped into him for hours after that, and he’d spent days feeling angry and ashamed that he’d treated someone like that, made her feel small just so he could maintain his street cred with a friend.

He’d not been brought up to be that way. His dad had raised him to be respectful of women, despite the way his own wife had treated him. He’d been taught never to bring another person down, but instead to make yourself better. Despite his mother walking out on them, he had never heard his father badmouth his wife.

And what had he done? Believed his reputation to be more important. Believed that being ‘one of the boys’ was more important.

He’d never gone back to the children’s home after that. He’d not wanted to see the hurt in Nit-Nat’s eyes. Not wanted to be reminded of what he’d done. And the only way he’d been able to cope had been to push it to the back of his mind, pretend it had never happened and bury the shame beneath mountains of other stuff. Fighting the urge to go and apologise the way he knew he should.

He hadn’t thought about her for years. Why would he? He’d been just sixteen when it had happened. She had been thirteen. It was ancient history. So much had happened since then. Other stuff had taken precedence, as was wont to happen in life.

Until now.

He’d never believed they would ever be face to face again. The world was a big place to get lost in.

Quinn sucked in a breath, his heart pounding in his chest, the shame from all those years ago flooding him like a tsunami of regret. He knew what he ought to say. Right now.

I’m sorry I hurt you. I apologise. I never meant to do it. I hated myself for it.

‘Tasha, I—’

‘You know, I know we were just kids, but I was thirteen years old. Thirteen! You were my first love. The first boy I lost my heart to. Now I know why they call it a crush. Because when you’re rejected and humiliated in front of everyone it feels like you’re being crushed. That’s what you did. That’s how you made me feel. Tiny. Inconsequential. Stamped on from a great height. You could have just said No, thanks. I would have understood.’

He watched as she gunned the engine, put her hand on the gearstick to shove it into first gear.

Quinn laid his hand upon hers. He didn’t want her to start driving yet. He had to tell her. Had to let her know.

‘I’m so sorry. I behaved appallingly. I know I did. You won’t believe me, but I was incredibly ashamed of what I said to you. It haunted me. I wasn’t raised to act like that and yet I did, out of some misguided belief that my credibility with my friend was more important than your heart. I felt guilty for ages.’

She yanked her hand out from under his. ‘Good. I’m glad.’

‘I really am sorry, Tasha. I should never have hurt you.’

‘Well, you did.’

She stared at him for a moment, those eyes of hers welling up once again. As the first tear dripped onto her cheek she revved the engine.

‘Let’s get back to the ship.’

And then she was driving.

He sat in the passenger seat beside her and gazed at her profile as she concentrated on the road. The curls had been tamed and glinted golden in the hot African sun. She had a soft caramel tan and her blue eyes were steely and determined. The set of her jaw showed she meant business and wouldn’t take any crap from anyone.

He knew he had to make it up to her. Make up for all the years of hurt and anger she must have carried inside because of him.

Tasha Kincaid—once Natasha Drummond—had certainly grown up. The puppy fat of youth had disappeared with the braces and she’d emerged as a beautiful young woman. A gazelle—long-limbed and graceful. He’d seen the possibility in her back then. But kids were kids and anyone different—fat, bespectacled, red-haired—was an object for their attempts at humour.

He vowed that he would show her the way a woman deserved to be treated. That he would be charming, caring and kind. He would build her up and replace her harsh memories of him with something more wonderful.

He hoped he could do that.

He’d originally asked her to go with him to introduce them to Ada and the villagers because he’d wanted to spend more time with this enigmatic woman who knew his name and somehow seemed familiar.

He didn’t regret asking her. Because now he knew it was important that she came with them. Because he needed more time with her.

Time to put things right.

* * *

Before Quinn’s humiliation of her they’d once gone on a trip together. Years ago—when they were children and Tasha’s home had organised a visit to the zoo. Everyone had gone along, and somehow Dexter had wangled a place for Quinn on the bus.

The boys had sat at the back, loud and vocal, but Tasha had been at the front, very aware that Quinn was there.

She’d worn her best dress—a pale blue number, with tiny daisies on it—white ankle socks and scuffed patent leather shoes. Hours had been spent in front of the mirror, trying to tame her hair, but the more she’d combed it the frizzier the curls had become, so in the end she’d tied it back with a red bow, wanting to look her best for Quinn. She’d practised her smile in front of the mirror before they left, trying to work out the best way to do it so her braces didn’t show too much.

She’d said hi to him when he’d arrived in the morning, barely getting a nod of acknowledgement in return, but that hadn’t mattered. She’d offered him a drink and fetched him a glass of juice from the kitchen. He’d taken it, smiled at her and said, ‘Thanks, Nit-Nat.’

Her little teenage heart had almost exploded with excitement. This dashing, handsome, blond-haired young stud had smiled at her! Said her name!

And then he’d said, ‘You look nice today.’

It was the only thing he’d got to say to her before they’d left but she’d dined out on that compliment for days. It had warmed her. Had made her feel good. All gooey inside and yet shy. He’d liked her dress. Liked what she’d done to her hair. She vowed to do her hair like that all the time if he liked it that way.

She’d wanted to turn and smile at him on the bus but she hadn’t, knowing that Dexter would wind her up about it, so she’d spent the trip staring out of the window, intently listening to everything she could—hoping that he might be talking about her in a nice way.

He never had been.

Her day had been spent half looking at the giraffes and the wolves and the lions and monkeys, and half sneaking glances at Quinn and having little hopeful dreams about their future together. She’d wished she had a camera, so she could take his picture and put it in her bedroom.

He’d wanted to be a doctor and so had she. She’d imagined them working together at the same hospital. They would save lives! He would look at her after a long day together and thank her, and give her a hug, and then they would go home together, because of course they would be married. And at home it would be even more blissful than at work. She would have beautiful little blonde-haired children, with big blue eyes, and they would take them with them on their many trips around the globe.

None of that had ever happened, of course.

But here they were today. Together again. In Africa. Hopefully off to save some lives.

Maybe all she’d ever needed to do was wait?

* * *

It didn’t take him long to inform the personnel on the ship of what they were doing. The staff seemed excited about the idea of a road trip, and as they busied themselves in preparation for a possible mass vaccination Tasha found a moment to check on Abeje.

She was asleep. Sweat beaded her brow and pooled in the dip at the base of her throat. Her breathing was rapid.

Tasha laid a hand against the little girl’s skin and winced at the heat. Poor thing. She let out a breath and took a moment to centre herself. She could remember being poorly as a young child herself, with no one to sit by her bed, to soothe her brow or just to give her cuddles and goodnight kisses. It had been so lonely.

Quinn knew who she was now. It was an even playing field. And, though she’d been worried about telling him who she was, now that it was out in the open she felt glad. He had a lot of making up to do if he was ever going to be in her good books again. He’d apologised, but that was too little, too late.

You should never have hurt me in the first place.

He deserved to spend some time wriggling on the end of her hook. She knew she ought to be gracious and allow him to show her who he was now. They had both been children. But...

He’d always said he was going to be a doctor. Always said he was going to travel the world. And here he was, doing just that. She liked it that he had stuck to his grand plan and was doing something worthwhile and noble. It showed her he wasn’t still that cruel teenage boy he had once been. That there was more to him now.

It would have been so easy for him to have stayed working in a hospital in the UK, with modern equipment and civilisation and technology all around him, but no. He had come out here. To treat the needy, to give aid to those who had none.

That was a good thing to do, wasn’t it? Heroic?

So you get some Brownie points, Quinn. I get that you’re not all bad.

Tasha reached for Abeje’s hand as a nurse, Rowan, came up to her.

‘She’s doing okay. I know it looks like nothing is happening, but we have to wait for the medications to work.’

Her Irish accent was lilting and musical. Even reassuring in a homely way.

‘How long should that take?’

‘It depends how long she’d been sick for, before we got the meds on board. The parasite she has in her system is quite an aggressive one.’

‘It could kill her.’ It wasn’t a question. Tasha knew the risks of this parasite.

‘We need to hope for the best.’

Rowan was not saying yes or no. Not promising that everything would be all right.

Tasha knew how to do that. She’d done it herself. But she’d never realised just how frustrating it sounded when she was on the receiving end of it. When you were worried sick about someone you needed someone in charge to tell you it would be okay. That they wouldn’t die. This vagueness, the non-promise, was devastating, but as a doctor she’d always assumed her vague answer would be comforting. Would give hope.

‘Will you keep an eye on her whilst I’m gone?’ she asked Rowan.

‘Of course. There won’t be any change for a while, so it’s probably best that you’re out there doing something else. It’ll help keep your mind off it.’

Tasha wasn’t sure that was true. She was hardly going to forget Abeje. The little girl was almost like a daughter. Not that she’d ever had one. But she definitely wanted children some day, and this was how she imagined it to be—worrying constantly. Fearing for their wellbeing.

‘You’ll contact me on the radio if there’s any change?’

‘Of course I will. It’s a good thing you’re doing. Going to help those villagers.’

Tasha nodded and Rowan walked away. It felt strange to her that she was going out with a medical team. It had been such a long time since she’d walked in their shoes, and it felt a little terrifying to be returning to it.

The last time she’d made a field trip with a hospital team had been out to the London bombings, back in 2005. There had been carnage. Injured people lying in the streets. Blood. Screams. She shuddered just remembering it.

What would they find in Mosa? A whole village wiped out? One or two people ill? Everyone healthy?

She hoped for the latter. Steepling her hands, she closed her eyes and began to pray to whatever god might be listening.

* * *

The Serendipity had a truck. Quinn and Tasha sat up front and two of the ship’s nurses sat in the back, along with all the medical equipment and drugs they might need. It was a two-hour drive to the village from Ntembe, and if they got out there by mid-afternoon they could have everyone vaccinated by late evening—in time to drive home again. If people were sick they’d brought tents to stay in overnight.

Quinn was driving, his muscular forearms wrestling with the wheel as it reacted to the rough road surface.

‘So, tell me something good.’

Tasha looked across at him. Something good? Sure. She could do that. In fact she yearned to make him see that she was happy and successful. That what he’d done had not had any profound effect on her life. That it had not left her scrambling for any scraps of self-esteem she might have had left. Yes, he’d torn her down, but she had rebuilt herself and done so in spite of him.

‘Qualifying as a teacher was a good day.’

He smiled, nodding. ‘That’s great! Which uni did you go to?’

‘I did my PGCE at Kingston.’

‘Fantastic! You must have felt very proud when you passed.’

She had. But not as proud as she had been when she’d qualified as a doctor. That had been after many years of hard work—not just one. But he didn’t know that teaching had been her second choice. Her fall-back position.

‘It was a lot of hard work. Lots of essays.’

‘Universities do like those essays and dissertations.’ He smiled again. ‘Tell me what it felt like the first time you had to stand in front of a class of kids.’

She sighed, thinking back to her first placement. The one that had almost made her quit. The out-of-control kids, their jeering and taunts. It had reminded her of how she’d felt once before.

‘The first one was awful. They send you out on two-week placements during training. It was like putting a kitten in front of a pack of baying, rabid dogs. The students were awful. Teenage boys. Laughing and disrespectful. On my first day I ended up running from the room in tears.’

She didn’t add that she’d felt particularly raw to teasing from teenage boys. Surely he must understand that? That she’d been weakened by him from the get-go and had never stood a chance? How it had made her feel like she was Nit-Nat all over again.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It wasn’t your fault, was it?’

But maybe it was? Maybe he’d made her ripe for the picking? Those boys had sensed her nerves. Her weakness. One of her first lecturers had talked about showing no fear. Said that some kids were like packs of hyenas, looking to wear a newbie teacher down.

‘No, but...’

‘My second placement was much better. Great kids—attentive. Determined to do well. The contrast in the two places really surprised me, but it was a lesson for me to persevere. I could so easily have given up after that first experience, but I think, in a way, that you toughened me up. I was determined to carry on and succeed. Lippy teenage boys weren’t going to ruin my life.’

He nodded. Smiled. ‘Lippy teenage boys are mostly cowards. Perhaps the only way they knew to deal with someone better than them, was to try and tear them down.’

She smiled back. ‘Well, they failed.’

‘I’m very glad to hear it.’ He was solemn.

‘What was it like the first time you had to treat a patient?’

He laughed, clearly relieved that the conversation had taken a brighter turn. ‘Awful! I took the patient’s history okay, but then I had to take a blood sample. Something I’d done in practice many times, that I thought I was good at, but I couldn’t find a vein. The guy was like a voodoo doll by the time I’d finished with him.’

She smiled, imagining it. Remembering the first time she’d taken blood from a real, live patient. She’d actually done okay, even though her hands had been shaking with nerves. And her patient, a wonderful old lady, had been so kind to her. ‘Everyone has to learn, ducky,’ she’d said.

‘Ever lost someone?’

The question just came out, and the second it did—the second she realised what she’d said out loud—her cheeks flamed hot. Why had she said that? Why had she asked? Of course he was going to say yes. Every doctor had had someone die on them.

‘Too many,’ he answered politically. Non-specific. No details. Answering but not telling her anything. ‘It’s hard. You tell yourself you’re ready. Your lecturers and mentors try to prepare you. But...’

Tasha stared at the road ahead, terracotta sand and rocks, scrubby bushes and thorny trees. A chorus of insects could be heard faintly above the roar of the engine.

‘You can never be ready for loss.’

She looked at him. At the rigid set of his bristled jaw. His knuckles tight upon the steering wheel. He’d been the one who had first introduced her to loss. To pain and grief. She’d thought she’d known what that was, not having parents. But he’d provided her with insight into another kind with his hurtful words.

Perhaps he was right? Perhaps he had been a coward? Afraid to let his friend Dex see him as someone else.

‘No,’ she answered. ‘You can’t.’

* * *

The village of Mosa hoved into view just after four in the afternoon. It wasn’t big—twenty or thirty homes at the most. Large brown cattle grazed by the side of the dirt road and the villagers working in the fields stopped their work to stare at the truck as they drove past. They probably didn’t get a lot of visitors.

Quinn parked the truck and they all got out gladly, pleased to stretch their legs and work the kinks from their muscles. It hadn’t been a long drive, but it had been a hot one, with the air-conditioning in the truck temperamental.

Tasha smiled at one of the villagers. ‘Hello. My name is Tasha, and this is Dr Shapiro and his two nurses. We’re looking for Ada Balewa.’

The villager stared at her for a moment, and then silently pointed to a hut further down.

She beamed a smile. ‘Thank you.’

Together they walked down the track, towards the primitive hut that had been indicated.

‘Ada Balewa?’ she called out.

A small woman emerged from the depths of the hut, wrapped in a brown dress, frowning. ‘Yes? Ah! Miss Tasha!’

Tasha smiled and greeted Ada with a hug. ‘You’re looking well.’

The other woman frowned again. ‘Yes, I am, but I do not think that is why you are here.’

This was the part that Tasha had been dreading.

‘Abeje is poorly. She was bitten by a mosquito and now she’s sick with malaria. We have her in a hospital ship, but we thought maybe there might be some other people sick here. Can you tell us if anyone has a fever?’

Ada nodded. ‘Yes. A boy and a girl.’

‘Could we see them? We’ve brought medicine.’

‘I will take you to them.’

They followed Ada—Tasha, Quinn and the two nurses, Maria and Rob. As they walked Ada asked about Abeje. Tasha told her what she could. That everything was being done for her.

‘I wish I could see her.’

‘If there’s room we could take you back with us.’

‘I have my own children here. Crops to tend. I cannot leave.’

‘Then try not to worry. We’ll do our best for her.’

‘Thank you.’

The boy and girl that Ada had spoken of were brother and sister. The boy twelve, the younger girl nine. They were sweating and had been sick.

Quinn was quickly by their side. ‘Let’s do the rapid tests—double-check this is what we think it is. In the meantime let’s get them on IVs so they don’t dehydrate.’

Tasha stood back and watched him work. He was a true professional. She’d seen it before with Abeje and now she saw it again as he cared for these two siblings side by side. They were conscious, so he spoke to them, keeping his words simple in case their English wasn’t good. He smiled. Explained what he was doing. Told them not to be afraid.

Even if they didn’t understand his words they would at least understand his kind, caring tone. His unthreatening behaviour. His empathy and desire to help. It was good for her to see it. This side of him. It gave her hope.

She wished she could do more. Instead she silently watched as he worked, anticipating and expecting his every move. His care of the two siblings was exactly what she would have done herself. It was hard to stand back and do nothing.

The rapid tests confirmed malaria so he started the anti-malarials. When he’d done, he turned back to Ada. ‘Is anyone else sick?’

‘No.’

‘I really don’t want to leave these children here. They need urgent care. Would you allow me to take them back to the ship?’

Ada nodded. ‘I will speak to their parents.’

She disappeared from the hut.

Tasha stood in the doorway, afraid to stay, afraid to leave. ‘Is it wise to move them right now?’

He frowned. ‘We won’t do it straight away. I’d like them to get fluids on board first. We might have to stay here the night. Give them time to rest...get them stable before we move them.’

She’d known it might be a possibility when she came, but she’d hoped they’d be lucky enough to escape with a quick visit. Now she would have to spend the night out here with Quinn.

Tasha gave him a nervous smile. ‘I’ll go and tell Rob. Maybe get started on setting up those tents?’

She went to find the nurse. Rob was standing by the truck with Maria. It looked as if they were counting the medicines.

‘There’s more than enough here to inoculate the entire village.’

Tasha smiled. ‘Anything I can do to help?’

‘It’s probably best if we gather everyone in the same spot to explain what we want to do. Then we can set up a line and treat everyone.’

She nodded. It did seem the best idea. ‘I told Quinn we’d get the tents set up for an overnight stay, too.’

‘Good idea. Perhaps we all ought to get something to eat, as well,’ Maria added.

The tents went up easily—even though Tasha had never put one up in her life. Rob was clear on the instructions and they worked well together as a team. Tasha cracked open some bottles of water, so they could hydrate underneath the hot African sun. Even though it was evening, and everything was a little cooler, they still poured with sweat.

She looked out over the horizon at the vast emptiness, the grey, stony mountains in the distance. It was so different here from in Ntembe. At the port city there was always a sea breeze blowing in—there always seemed to be air and noise and life. Here in Mosa it seemed more solitary, more empty. Quieter. She missed the busyness of people. The safety of numbers.

As she hugged her arms to herself Quinn came to stand alongside.

‘You all right?’

‘I’ve only ever known Ntembe. I thought I knew more. Thought I knew Africa. But I don’t.’

‘It’s a place that can always surprise you. Its capacity to inspire, to fear, to amaze, will always keep you on your toes.’

She looked at him. ‘How are the children doing?’

‘As well as can be expected. I think they were infected earlier than Abeje. They’re sicker.’

Fear welled in her gut. ‘Are they going to die?’

‘Not if I can help it.’

He stared at her, determination in every feature.

* * *

The inoculation line was long, but each and every villager had turned up to receive medication. Tasha could see that Quinn was very happy about that. Neither of them would have liked to leave anyone out, and Ada had been instrumental in speaking to the villagers en masse and getting their understanding and trust, translating to those who didn’t understand English very well.

They sat around a small campfire later in the evening, drinking coffee with Maria and Rob, who soon disappeared for an early night, leaving Tasha and Quinn alone.




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