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Their Own Little Miracle
Caroline Anderson


A surrogate mum—And then she fell in love…When Dr Iona Murray agrees to be her sister’s surrogate she never imagines it will lead her into Dr Joe Baker’s arms. Joe has no intention of ever being a sperm donor again, or of becoming emotionally attached after his painful divorce. But when he meets Iona his boundaries become truly blurred. Will they be able to give up their baby…or each other?







A surrogate mom—

And then she fell in love...

When Dr. Iona Murray agreed to be her sister’s surrogate, she never imagined it would lead her into Dr. Joe Baker’s arms. Joe had no intention of ever being a sperm donor again, or becoming emotionally attached after his painful divorce. But when he meets Iona, his boundaries become truly blurred. Will they be able to give up their baby...or each other?


CAROLINE ANDERSON is a matriarch, writer, armchair gardener, unofficial tearoom researcher and eater of lovely cakes. Not necessarily in that order! What Caroline loves: her family. Her friends. Reading. Writing contemporary love stories. Hearing from readers. Walks by the sea with coffee/ice cream/cake thrown in! Torrential rain. Sunshine in spring/autumn. What Caroline hates: losing her pets. Fighting with her family. Cold weather. Hot weather. Computers. Clothes shopping. Caroline’s plans: keep smiling and writing!


Also by Caroline Anderson (#u7f5466cc-0f2c-5cbf-9a9d-7f478e52ed6f)

Yoxburgh Park Hospital miniseries

The Secret in His Heart

Risk of a Lifetime

Best Friend to Wife and Mother?

Their Meant-to-Be Baby

The Midwife’s Longed-For Baby

Bound by Their Babies

Their Own Little Miracle

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


Their Own Little Miracle

Caroline Anderson






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


ISBN: 978-1-474-07525-1

THEIR OWN LITTLE MIRACLE

© 2018 Caroline Anderson

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.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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


For everyone who’s struggled with infertility or

faced the anguish of childlessness, and for those

who’ve had the courage to act as surrogate or donor

and given such a priceless gift.


Contents

Cover (#u09bb2943-9bb1-5698-af6a-f0ac9080e5e5)

Back Cover Text (#u8f6f3b11-6466-5f98-97ac-9cc1f68995f7)

About the Author (#ue36f030d-50bb-5f14-92b3-b438ae9db8f2)

Booklist (#ue355271c-0e12-5ae6-bcdb-71a5f313ad91)

Title Page (#ue6787739-5d56-5018-86eb-bc7c92a3611c)

Copyright (#uc595498e-1053-5f7f-ae9f-c1a11aee4b6b)

Dedication (#u0b13252c-d971-5fd0-9a82-3e5e6e353ba5)

CHAPTER ONE (#u454ee7c5-d1ec-5456-8287-3f2e520b109f)

CHAPTER TWO (#ue42ef83d-2b01-51cb-ae93-6426fd05a30d)

CHAPTER THREE (#u1626e1b6-3a49-5f41-a972-974628a5e616)

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)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u7f5466cc-0f2c-5cbf-9a9d-7f478e52ed6f)

‘ED TRAUMA CALL, ten minutes.’

Iona’s heart sank. Another one? The previous trauma patient had only just arrived, and they were seriously short-staffed. Andy Gallagher was on holiday, Sam Ryder had gone for lunch five minutes ago at three thirty, they were rushed off their feet and she was virtually on her own because James Slater, the clinical lead, was already up to his eyes in Resus with the trauma patient who’d just arrived, a construction worker with severe crush injuries to his chest who from what she could gather was resisting all attempts to resuscitate him.

Which made her, a brand new registrar, the most senior doctor available, so it wasn’t a surprise when she was called into Resus. James didn’t pause what he was doing. ‘Iona, can you take the trauma call, please? I can’t leave my patient but I’ll be right here, so you can run things by me if you need to.’

‘Sure.’

She went back to her patient, handed her over to the F2 junior doctor she was with, found out as much detail as possible about the incoming casualty, went into Resus and put on a lead apron. Their patient had been hit by a car and had suspected pelvic injuries, which she really hadn’t wanted to hear, so he’d need X-rays to check for fractures. She hoped they wouldn’t be too serious because James was still tied up and looking at him she was fairly sure he would be for some time, because he and his team were now opening the patient’s chest and it wasn’t looking pretty.

Around her a new team was assembling: Tim, an F1 junior doctor fresh out of medical school who was totally out of his depth, Jenny, thankfully a highly competent nurse, Sue, a radiographer she trusted, ready with the portable X-ray and ultrasound, another nurse who she’d worked with in the past and who seemed OK, and a recently qualified health care assistant as the scribe.

Well, she just hoped the patient wasn’t too bad, because as teams went, this one was inadequate on several fronts. Not Sue, though, who was already surrounding the bay with lead screens, and not Jenny. Just her, Tim and the HCA, then. It was a good job James was right beside them, even if he was up to his eyes.

She briefed them quickly on what little she knew, allocated them their positions in the team and made sure they were ready. ‘Right, lead and plastic aprons, please, everyone, and you all know what you’re doing?’ she checked, then it was too late to worry because the patient was being wheeled in and they were given the handover by the paramedics.

‘This is Jim Brown, age fifty-six, hit on his right-hand side by a large van about forty minutes ago, suspected pelvic injury. We put a pelvic binder on and secured his spine at the scene. BP one-twenty over eighty, sats ninety-eight per cent, we’ve given him ten of morphine and started him on saline. No apparent head or chest trauma but he’s complaining of pain in the right wrist so we’ve splinted it.’

The pelvic injury wasn’t good news, but at least his blood pressure was all right so hopefully he could be transferred to Orthopaedics shortly. ‘OK, everybody, can we get these clothes off so I can do a primary survey, please? Sue, we need a FAST scan, and somebody book an urgent CT? Jenny, take bloods, cross match for four units, and we’ll have packed cells and FFP on standby, please. Sue, after the FAST scan I’d like X-rays of C-spine, chest and pelvis. And make a note of the time. Fifteen forty-six.’

The team went into action and she bent over the patient so she was in his line of sight; he was conscious but in obvious pain and distress, and she smiled reassuringly at him. ‘Hello, Jim. My name is Iona, I’m a doctor and I’m going to be looking after you. Can you tell me where it hurts?’

‘All down there—don’t know, it’s all blurred together.’

‘Anything else? Head? Chest?’

‘No, they’re fine. My right wrist hurts, that’s all.’

‘OK.’ She looked up at the monitor to check his blood pressure. One-ten over seventy, slightly down. She’d need to keep a close eye on it. ‘How’s the FAST scan, Sue?’

‘Some free fluid in the abdomen,’ Sue murmured softly. Which was highly suggestive of a pelvic fracture. And his blood pressure had dropped since the paramedics had reported it.

They stepped back briefly so Sue could X-ray his pelvis for confirmation, then Iona shut her mind to everything else and concentrated on Jim. Pupils equal and reactive, airway clear, good bilateral breath sounds, no significant pain when she felt his chest, no obvious bumps on his head, but his right wrist was almost certainly fractured.

And so was his pelvis. The X-ray showed multiple fractures of the pelvic ring, some displaced. No wonder he was bleeding, but hopefully his neck and chest were clear and he still had circulation to both feet. Small mercies, she thought.

‘Right, Jenny, can we start the PRBC and FFP, and can someone page Orthopaedics please? Multiple pelvic fractures. Sue, can you get the neck and chest shots, please.’

‘If he’s got pelvic fractures you need to page IR,’ James said over his shoulder, and she took a breath and nodded. At least he was listening and keeping her on track. She could do this.

‘OK. Can someone page Interventional Radiology as well, please? How about CT, James?’

‘No, wait for IR. They’ll probably take him straight to the IR suite to embolise the damaged arteries.’

If she was lucky...

She was scanning the X-rays when she heard the swish of the door opening and closing behind her. She glanced round to see who it was, and her heart did a funny little hitch. The interventional radiologist? He didn’t look old enough to be a consultant, but he had the firm tread of someone who knew what he was doing. She could only hope—

‘Hi. I’m Joe Baker, IR Specialist Registrar. You’ve got a pelvic fracture for me?’

She met his eyes and her head emptied. Framed by the longest, darkest lashes, they were very pale blue, almost azure, with a dark rim. Utterly gorgeous and curiously penetrating. Mesmerising, in fact...

She gave herself a mental kick and tried to focus. ‘Yes. Hi. I’m Iona Murray, Registrar. This is Jim Brown, fifty-six years old, hit by a car on the right, BP one-twenty over eighty on admission, now...’ her eyes flicked to the monitor, and her heart sank ‘...ninety-five over sixty. Sats were ninety-eight per cent, now ninety-six. FAST scan shows free fluid, X-ray confirms multiple fractures of the pelvic ring. I think the chest and neck are clear but they haven’t been checked by a radiologist.’

He nodded and held out his hand. ‘May I?’ He took the tablet from her, scrolled through the images and frowned. ‘Right, they are clear but the pelvis is a mess and I’ll need to embolise him. Has he had a CT yet?’

‘No. We haven’t had time.’

‘How’s his airway? Any obvious chest trauma or signs of head injury? Cardiac tamponade? Pleural effusion?’

‘No.’

‘Are you leading?’ he asked, and she nodded.

‘Right, I’ll take over from here. Go on.’

She didn’t know whether to be relieved or furious, because frankly it was a close-run thing. She went for relieved.

‘He’s also got a query fracture of right radius and ulna, but good cap refill and sensation.’

‘OK, that can wait, then, so can the CT. Can you cancel the slot, please, if you’ve booked it, and alert IR?’

Joe reached for his neck, then frowned. ‘Stethoscope?’ he said briskly, holding out his hand, and she lifted her stethoscope over her head and handed it to him reluctantly.

‘You’re dead meat if anything happens to it, it was a graduation present from my sister,’ she muttered darkly, and he rolled his eyes, introduced himself to Jim and checked his chest.

‘OK, his chest’s clear so I’ll take him straight to IR—’

‘BP falling. Sixty-five over forty.’

Jim was crashing. He groaned, and Iona took his hand.

‘It’s OK, Jim, we’re here, we’ve got you,’ she said, squeezing his hand for reassurance. But it was cold and lifeless, clammy now as well, and she felt her pulse spike.

‘Right, can we have the REBOA kit, please, we need to do this now,’ Joe said. ‘And get me an arterial kit before we lose the femoral artery.’

He was going to insert a balloon into his aorta in Resus? Her eyes widened. She’d never seen it done, far less assisted, and she felt a moment of panic.

‘I can page Sam,’ Iona said hopefully. Sam, who was an ex-army medic, had done it dozens of times in the field and would know exactly what to do, but Joe Baker wasn’t waiting.

‘No time. Can I have a pair of scissors? The first thing we need to do is cut a chunk out of the pelvic binder to give me access.’

He cut a slit above the femoral artery on Jim’s left leg and removed a V from the fabric with a deft snip of the scissors. ‘First I’m going to secure access to the CFA so we don’t lose it. I’m going in on the left because the fractures are worse on the right, so this is our best chance,’ he explained, searching for the artery with his gloved fingertips, his hands rock steady. ‘OK, Jim, sharp scratch coming,’ he warned as he inserted the needle, but Jim was beyond noticing.

‘Right, we’re in. Someone open the REBOA pack and cover him in the sterile drapes. Just leave the site accessible, please. Iona, you’re assisting, come and scrub.’

She felt her pulse rate go up another notch. The IR was already scrubbing and she followed him, joining him at the sink. ‘Isn’t it dangerous without imaging?’ she asked under her breath as she scrubbed. ‘You can’t see what’s going on in there. Wouldn’t it be safer in the IR suite?’

He skewered her with those mesmerising eyes, and they’d turned to ice. ‘Are you questioning my clinical competence?’

She held the icy stare with difficulty and shook her head. ‘No, no, not at all! I’m questioning mine. I’ve never assisted with one of these—’

‘Well, here’s your chance, because he won’t make it to IR and if we don’t do this now, we’ll lose him, so I suggest you take a deep breath and get on with it, because frankly he doesn’t have time for this and nor do I. What do you know about a Zone III REBOA?’

She searched her brain, her heart hammering. ‘It stands for Resuscitative Endovascular Balloon Occlusion of the Aorta, and it’s a balloon catheter inserted via the common femoral artery to cut off the blood supply from the aorta below the balloon. Zone III occlusion is below the renal and mesenteric vessels, and it stops the bleeding from the damaged arteries in the pelvis, so it’ll keep his heart and brain alive until you can get him into the IR suite or Theatre and stop the bleeding.’

‘Contraindications?’

‘Chest trauma, cardiac tamponade, pneumothorax, haemothorax, pleural effusion, aortic dissection—’

‘OK, we’ve ruled them out, so what are the dangers?’

‘Damage to the femoral artery or aorta, and reperfusion injury from cutting off the blood supply for too long.’

He nodded. ‘Exactly, so time is of the essence. Right, let’s get on with this.’

She swallowed and sucked in a breath and reached for a paper towel as someone helped him into a sterile gown. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Get gowned up.’ He crossed to the bed, snapping on gloves as he went. ‘OK, we’re ready. Let’s go.’ Jim was completely covered with the sterile drapes, leaving just the small area with the cannula sticking out uncovered for access. He glanced at the team as he reached for the REBOA trolley and injected a local around the site of the cannula, then flushed it with heparinised saline and inserted a fine guide wire.

‘Someone phone the IR suite and get them on standby for immediate transfer as soon as I’m done,’ he said as he was working. ‘Tell them I’ll be ten minutes. OK, Iona, watch and learn.’

She watched, and she learned how wrong she’d been to doubt him. His hands were steady and confident, sensitive as he removed the cannula from the guide wire and inserted the large bore introducer with great care. ‘This is the tricky bit,’ he said. ‘You don’t want to tear the artery, and the Twelve French makes a damn great hole, so you have to be subtle. OK, that’s good.’ He pulled out the fine wire and threaded the stiff guide wire in to the mark he’d made by holding it up against Jim’s body. Hence the gowns and extensive drapes, she realised, so he could do that without risk of contamination of the wire.

‘Right, it’s in. Can you hold that steady, please, Iona, I don’t want it to move. Keep an eye on the mark on it. Good. X-ray check, please, around T4.’ He watched the screen, then nodded. ‘OK, that’s good. Then I slide the balloon catheter in over it, up to the mark, which is below the end of the guide wire, and then I inflate—like that, until I feel the resistance change,’ he said, squeezing the syringe steadily to fill the balloon with saline.

‘OK, that should be it. X-ray check here, please,’ he said, indicating the level.

His eyes flicked to the clock, then the monitor, then the X-ray screen, and she saw the tension go out of his shoulders. ‘Good. His BP’s picking up. Time sixteen seventeen. Make sure that’s on the notes, please. Right, secure this lot with a grip-lock dressing so nothing moves, and let’s go. The clock’s ticking and we’ve got an hour, max.’

Moments later the doors swished shut behind them, and as the team dispersed Iona stood there amid the litter of the procedure, staring after them in a mixture of bewilderment and awe.

Had all that only taken thirty-one minutes? It had been the longest half-hour of her life, but Joe Baker seemed to have taken it in his stride, not seeming even slightly fazed by it.

Good luck, or good judgement? Maybe a bit of both, but Jim was still alive and she knew if it hadn’t been for Joe they would have lost him.

It wasn’t going so well for James and his team, though, from what she could hear, and definitely not his patient.

Then she heard James sigh heavily. ‘OK, everyone, I’m calling it. Are we all agreed?’ There was a low murmur, followed by silence. ‘Time of death, sixteen twenty-one. Can somebody cover him, please, but leave everything in place for the post mortem. I’ll go and talk to his family.’

Her eyes flicked to James, and he was stripping off his gloves and gown and coming over to her.

She smiled at him sympathetically. ‘Thanks for your support. I’m sorry about your patient.’

‘Yeah, me, too, but that’s life. You did well, by the way. Are you OK?’

She smiled properly this time, slightly surprised to find that she was, even though she was shaking from head to foot. ‘Yes, I am. He was quite hard on me, but I probably deserved it. I was freaking out a bit, but he made it look so easy.’

James smiled. ‘I’ve heard great things about Joe. He’s only been here a few weeks, but his clinical lead says he’s red hot, and he thinks he’ll go far.’

‘Unlike me. I was like a rabbit in headlights.’

‘No, you weren’t, you were just faced with a dying patient and no real way of dealing with it, even though you were doing everything right. Sam couldn’t have got here in time, and if Joe hadn’t been here you would have lost him, or I would have had to abandon my patient to save yours. Not that it would have mattered, as it turns out. Sometimes we just can’t save them.’

She swallowed. ‘I know.’ She stripped off her gown and gloves, dumped them in the bin, took off the heavy lead apron and realised her stethoscope, her anchor that reminded her on an hourly basis that she really was a doctor and it wasn’t just a dream, wasn’t there. And Joe had already mislaid his own.

‘Rats. He’s still got my stethoscope.’

‘They’ll have one on the desk. You’ll get it back.’

She smiled grimly. ‘Too right I will. Thanks, James.’

He pushed open the door. ‘You’re welcome. Right, I need to talk to my patient’s family, and you need to talk to yours. Ah, here comes the cavalry. You’ve just missed Iona’s first REBOA, Sam.’

Sam’s eyes widened and he looked at Iona. ‘You did it?’

‘No, of course I didn’t, I just assisted. Joe Baker came down and he was going to take him to IR, but then the patient crashed and it was—he did it, just like that.’

‘Of course he did. That’s all they do in IR, stick things in blood vessels. It’s their job. I should damn well hope he was good at it. Did he talk you through it?’

‘Yes—once he’d lectured me for doubting him.’

Sam laughed. ‘Yeah, that wouldn’t have gone down well.’

‘It didn’t. He got his own back, though. He’s nicked my stethoscope.’

‘The one your sister gave you?’ He chuckled. ‘He’s a brave man. I suggest you go and look for a nice quiet ingrowing toenail until it’s time to go home. That should keep you out of mischief. And don’t worry, you’ll get it back.’

* * *

He still had her stethoscope.

The graduation present from her sister, the one he’d been told in no uncertain terms not to lose or damage. He could see why, it was a really expensive one, although it had to be a few years old now. No wonder she’d been precious about it. His own was only slightly better, and he’d bought it last year because he’d mislaid the one identical to this.

That was getting to be a habit.

He changed out of his scrubs, pulled on his clothes, clipped his watch on his wrist and checked the time. Seven thirty. She’d be long gone, unless she was on a late shift, but it was worth a try. He might even invite her out for dinner—assuming she’d speak to him. He’d been a bit tough on her, but he felt a grudging admiration for a junior registrar who’d had the guts to stand up to him in defence of her patient.

He headed down to the ED, found the nurse who’d been with them in Resus and asked her where Iona was.

She folded her arms and looked him straight in the eye, and he had the distinct feeling he was in trouble. ‘She’s gone.’

‘Do you know where I can find her? I borrowed her stethoscope and forgot to give it back.’

‘Yes, she mentioned that. She wasn’t happy about it.’

He laughed softly. ‘No, I’m sure she wasn’t.’

‘You can leave it with me.’

‘I can’t do that. She told me I’d be dead meat if anything happened to it and I don’t think it was an empty threat. I’ll hang onto it and give it to her tomorrow.’

‘She’s away this weekend. She’s not back in till Monday.’

‘And I’m on a course next week. Great.’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t suppose you know her address or mobile number?’

Jenny raised an eyebrow. ‘Now, you don’t seriously expect me to give it to you? I do know where you can find her, though. She’s at the Queens Hotel just round the corner. There’s a charity speed-dating event raising money for the new IR angio-surgical suite. I’m surprised you aren’t going anyway as it’s in aid of your department, but here’s your chance to support it. Out of the drive, turn left, five hundred yards on the right. You can’t miss it.’

Speed-dating? Seriously? She was gorgeous! Why would she need to go speed-dating, of all things? And then he realised she’d be helping with the organisation. Idiot.

‘OK. Thanks.’ He headed for his car, followed the directions and parked on the road opposite the hotel. The speed-dating event was signposted from Reception, and he headed towards the door. It shouldn’t be hard to find her—

‘Oh, excellent, we’re short of men, especially good-looking young doctors. That’ll be ten pounds, please. Can I take your name?’

He frowned. ‘How do you know I’m a doctor?’

‘The stethoscope?’

‘Ah. Yes. Actually—’ He was about to tell the woman why he was there, and then spotted Iona at one of the tables that were arranged in a circle, a man sitting opposite her. OK, she wasn’t just helping, she was actually doing it as well, and if he wanted to see her, he’d have to pay up and queue for his slot. That was fine. It meant she’d have to listen to him for three minutes or whatever it was, which meant he’d have time to apologise for pushing her so far out of her comfort zone in Resus. And having three minutes to look at her was no hardship. He might even persuade her to go out for dinner—

‘Name, please?’

‘Sorry. Joe Baker. I’ve only got a twenty-pound note,’ he said, but the woman just smiled, said, ‘That’ll do perfectly,’ plucked it out of his fingers, stuck a label with ‘JOE’ written on it on his chest and handed him a printed card and a pencil.

So he could score the ladies? Good grief. He wrote her name and ten out of ten, and waited.

There was a gap before Iona, maybe because of the lack of men, so he hovered and then pounced when the bell rang and the man at her table got up and moved on.

He sat down in front of her, and she looked up from her score card and did a mild double take, her eyes widening.

‘What are you doing here?’

He took the stethoscope from round his neck and handed it to her with a rueful smile. ‘I forgot to return this, and when I refused to give it to the nurse who was in Resus because you’d told me in no uncertain terms what you’d do to me, she told me where to find you.’

Her mouth flickered in a smile. ‘Ah. Jenny.’

‘Yeah, that’s right. She wouldn’t give me your address.’

Her eyes widened. ‘I should hope not!’

He gave a little huff of laughter at the outrage in her voice. ‘I might have been insulted if I hadn’t been glad she was so protective of your privacy, but I also wanted to apologise for pushing you out of your comfort zone in Resus.’

‘You don’t need to apologise,’ she said, her clear and really rather lovely green eyes clouding, ‘even though you were rude and patronising—’

‘Rude and patronising?’ he asked, pretending to be outraged, but she held his eyes and a little smile tugged at her mouth, drawing his attention to it. Soft, full, and very expressive. Like her eyes. He wondered what it would be like to kiss her—

‘You were a teeny bit. I was way out of my comfort zone, because I thought you’d need more from me than I could give you. I’ve never led before on a case that critical and I should have appreciated you’d only do what you knew you could, but I was afraid Jim was going to die and I was freaking out a bit. I’m sorry you took it wrong, it really wasn’t meant like that.’

‘Don’t apologise,’ he said wryly. ‘Standing up to me took guts, and you were quite right about the risks. Without image guidance there were no guarantees I could get the guide wire in without causing more damage, but I’d had a good look at the X-rays and I was pretty sure I could do it, and anyway, as I think I pointed out fairly succinctly, Jim had run out of options. He’s OK, by the way. I sorted the bleeds, repaired the entry site and shipped him off to the orthos with a nice healthy reperfusion and well within the time limit. They’ve put an ex-fix on in Theatre and he’s doing OK.’

He saw her shoulders sag slightly with relief. ‘Oh, good. Thanks for the update. I’ve been worrying about him.’

‘No need to worry, he’s sore, he’s broken but he’ll make it. Good stethoscope, by the way. Very good. Your sister must think a lot of you.’

She smiled, her eyes softening. ‘She does. That’s why I was worried about you walking off with it, knowing you’d already lost yours. It didn’t bode well.’

He laughed at that little dig. ‘I hadn’t lost it, it was in my locker, I just failed to pick it up—but I did lose the last one, so you weren’t wide of the mark. You did well, by the way,’ he added, sliding his score sheet across the table to her. ‘It was a tricky case to manage and you’d done everything right. You should be proud of yourself.’

She glanced down at the paper and her eyes widened. ‘Ten out of ten? That’s very generous. You must be feeling guilty.’

‘No, I just give credit where it’s due, even if I am rude and patronising. And I did return your stethoscope, so hopefully that’ll earn me a few Brownie points.’

‘Maybe the odd one.’

Her lips twitched, and he sat back with a smile, folded his arms and held her eyes, trying not to think about kissing her. Or peeling off that clingy little top and—

‘So, anyway, that’s why I’m here. What about you?’

‘Me?’ She looked slightly flustered. ‘Because it’s a good cause?’

He raised an eyebrow at her, deeply unconvinced, and she smiled and shrugged and took him completely by surprise. ‘OK. You asked. I’m looking for a sperm donor.’

Joe felt his jaw drop, and he stifled the laugh in the nick of time. Of all the unlikely things for her to say, and to him, of all people...

‘You’re kidding.’

‘No. No, I’m not kidding. I’m looking for a tall Nordic type with white-blond hair, blue eyes and good bone structure, so you can relax, you don’t qualify.’

‘I might feel a bit insulted by that,’ he said, still trying to work out if she was joking.

She smiled, her eyes mocking. ‘Oh, don’t be, it’s not personal. I have very specific criteria and you don’t fit them.’

He frowned at her, but she was so deadpan he didn’t know whether she was completely off her trolley or winding him up. He turned and scanned the men in the room and this time he didn’t stifle the laugh.

‘OK,’ he murmured in a low undertone. ‘Nor does anyone else in this room. So far you’ve written zero out of ten against everyone, and the nearest candidate is white-blond because he’s twice your age. He’s also about three inches shorter than you and twice as heavy. And the lady on the next table looks utterly terrifying, so frankly I reckon we’re done here. I’m starving, I haven’t eaten since breakfast and I don’t suppose you have, either, so why don’t we get the hell out of here, go and find a nice pub and have something to eat? And that way I can apologise properly for being rude and patronising.’

‘Won’t your wife mind?’ she asked, clearly fishing, and he raised an eyebrow and gave her the short answer.

‘I don’t have one. So—dinner?’

She hesitated for so long he thought she was going to say no, but then the bell rang, the lady at the next table was eyeing him hungrily, and she looked at the man heading to take his place, grabbed her bag and stethoscope and got to her feet.

‘Sorry. We have to go,’ she said, squeezing round from behind the table, and they headed for the door amid a chorus of protests. From both sexes. He stifled a smile.

‘Right, where to?’ he asked, and she shrugged.

‘What do you fancy? Thai, Chinese, Mexican, Indian, Asian fusion, pub grub, Italian, modern British—’

‘Good grief. All of those in Yoxburgh?’

She chuckled. ‘Oh, yes. They might be busy, though, it’s Friday night.’

He had a much better idea. ‘How about a nice, cosy gastro-pub? There’s one right round the corner from my house that comes highly recommended, and we’ll definitely get a table there.’

‘Is it far? Can I walk back? My car’s at home.’

‘No, it’s a bit out of town, but that’s fine, I’ll drive you home. Look on it as a hire charge for the use of your stethoscope.’

Again she hesitated, a wary look in her eyes, but then she nodded as if she’d finally decided she could trust him. ‘OK. That sounds good.’

* * *

To her surprise—and slight consternation—he headed out of town and turned off the main road down a lane so small it didn’t even have a signpost.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, wondering if she should be worried and trying to convince herself that she shouldn’t, that he was a doctor, he was hardly going to harm her—

‘Glemsfield,’ he said. ‘It’s a tiny village, but it has a great pub and a thriving little community.’

‘It’s in the middle of nowhere,’ she said. Even quieter than where her parents lived, and that was pretty isolated. And it was getting dark. Was she mad? Or just unable to trust any man to have a shred of decency?

‘It is. It’s lovely, and it’s only three miles from Yoxburgh and much more peaceful. Well, apart from the barking muntjac deer at night. They get a bit annoying sometimes but I threaten them with the freezer.’

That made her laugh. ‘And does it work?’

‘Not so you’d notice,’ he said drily, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

They passed a few houses and dropped down into what she assumed must be the centre of the village, but then he drove past the brightly lit pub on the corner, turned onto a drive and cut the engine.

Although it was only dusk the area was in darkness, shrouded by the overgrown shrubs each side of the drive, and the whole place had a slight air of neglect. She suppressed a shudder of apprehension as she got out of the car and looked around.

‘I thought we were going to the pub? You just drove past it.’

‘I know, but the car park’ll be heaving on a Friday night so I thought it was easier to park at my house—well, actually my aunt’s house. She’s in a home and I’m caretaking it for her and trying to get it back into some sort of order. It’s going to take me a while.’

‘Yes, I think it might,’ she murmured, eyeing the weeds that had taken over the gravel drive.

‘I’ll get there. Come on, my stomach’s starting to make its presence felt.’

He ushered her across the road, and as they walked back towards the corner she could hear the hubbub of voices growing louder.

‘Gosh, it’s busy!’ she said as they went in.

‘It always is. I’ll see if we can get a table, otherwise we might have to get them to cook for us and take it back to mine.’ He leant on the bar and attracted the eye of a middle-aged woman. ‘Hi, Maureen. Can you squeeze us in?’

‘Oh, I think so. If you don’t mind waiting a minute, I’ve got a couple just about to leave. Here, have a menu and don’t forget the specials board. Can I get you a drink while you wait?’

‘I’m going to splash out and have tap water, but I’m driving. Iona? How about a glass of Prosecco to celebrate your first REBOA?’

‘It was hardly mine.’

‘Ah, well, that’s just splitting hairs. Prosecco? Or gin and tonic? They have some interesting gins. And tonics.’

She wrestled with her common sense, and it lost. She smiled at him. ‘A small glass of Prosecco would be lovely. Thank you.’

‘And some bread, Maureen, please, before I keel over.’

‘Poor baby,’ Maureen said with a motherly but mildly mocking smile, and handed them their drinks before she disappeared into the kitchen.

‘So, the menu. The twice baked Cromer crab soufflé with crayfish cream is fabulous. It’s a starter but it makes a great main with one of the vegetable sides.’

‘Is that what you’re having?’

‘No. I’m having the beer-battered fish and chips, because it’s absolutely massive and I’m starving.’ He grinned wickedly, and it made him look like a naughty boy. A very grown-up naughty boy. Her pulse did a little hiccup.

Maureen put the bread down in front of him. ‘Is that your order, Joe? Fish and chips and mushy peas?’

‘Please. Iona?’

‘I’ll go with the crab soufflé, please. It sounds lovely.’

‘Have sweet potato fries,’ he suggested. ‘They’re amazing.’

‘I don’t suppose they’ve got a single calorie in them, either,’ she said, laughing.

‘Calorie? No. Ridiculous idea. They do great puds, as well,’ he added with another mischievous grin, and sank his teeth into a slice of fresh, warm baguette slathered with butter.

She couldn’t help but smile.


CHAPTER TWO (#u7f5466cc-0f2c-5cbf-9a9d-7f478e52ed6f)

‘WOW. THAT WAS so tasty.’

‘Mmm. And positively good for you.’

She used the last sweet potato fry to mop up the remains of the crayfish cream. ‘Really?’ she said sceptically.

He laughed and speared a fat, juicy flake of fish. ‘I doubt it, but one can live in hope. So, what were you doing at the speed dating gig?’ he asked, and she frowned, hugely reluctant to go back to that and wondering why she’d opened her mouth and blurted it out.

‘I told you.’

His eyes widened, the fish on his fork frozen in mid-air. ‘You were serious? I thought you were winding me up.’

‘No. You probably deserved it, but I wasn’t.’

He laughed, then looked back at her, those incredible eyes searching hers thoughtfully. ‘You’re genuinely serious, aren’t you?’

‘Yes. I genuinely am, but it’s not why I was there, not really. I was helping set it up, and they talked me into taking a table, but a bit of me was wondering if anyone appropriate might rock up.’

‘Iona.’ His voice dropped, becoming quieter but somehow urgent and his eyes were suddenly deadly serious. ‘Sorry, I know it’s really none of my business—’

‘No, it isn’t, and I don’t think this is really the time or the place.’

He frowned, nodded and let it go, but only with obvious reluctance. ‘Yeah, you’re right. OK. So—tell me about yourself. Apart from that.’

No way. ‘I’d rather talk about you,’ she said, smiling to soften it. ‘What brings you to Yoxburgh?’

‘Oh, that’s easy. As I said, my aunt lives here in a home and I spent a lot of time here as a child, the hospital has an expanding IR department, they were looking for a specialist registrar, I wanted to broaden my experience and it seemed like a perfect fit. Plus I get a free house to live in,’ he added with a little quirk of his lips that drew her attention back to them.

She wondered what it would be like to kiss them...

‘So, why are you here?’ he asked, and she hauled her mind back into order and edited her answer because the truth was too messy.

‘Oh—similar reasons, really, work-wise. They’ve got a great ED department, I was looking for my first registrar’s job, I’d worked in Bristol up to now but frankly I’d seen enough of it—’ That was putting it mildly, but she wasn’t going into that. ‘And my family are based in Norfolk so it’s not too far from them, and it’s a great hospital, and I love the seaside. Not that I’ve seen much of it because the summer’s been rubbish and, anyway, my shift pattern’s pretty crazy and I haven’t had a lot of time because I’ve been studying, too.’

‘All work and no play, eh? Don’t do that, Iona. Keep your work/life balance. It’s really important.’

She tilted her head slightly and searched his eyes, because there’d been something in his voice...

‘That sounded like personal experience,’ she said, and his eyes changed again.

‘Yeah, kind of. I know what it’s like. My shift pattern’s crazy, too, and on top of that I’ve got a mass of courses and exams coming up in the next year, but that’s IR for you. It doesn’t matter how hard I work, how much I learn, there’ll always be more.’

‘Is that “Do as I say, not as I do”?’ she asked, and he laughed and nodded.

‘Pretty much. Work can easily take over—not that I’m the best person to tell anybody how to run their life since I seem to have trashed my own, but there you go. You could always learn from my experience,’ he said, and went back to his fish and chips.

‘They look tasty. Can I pinch a chip?’

‘Be my guest,’ he said, and she took the last one off the plate as a shadow fell over the table.

‘Was everything OK for you both?’

‘Great, thanks.’ He looked up at Maureen and smiled. ‘Filling. I’ve eaten myself to a standstill.’

‘So you don’t want dessert? That’s not like you.’

‘Not tonight, I don’t think. Iona?’

She would have loved a dessert. She’d spotted one on the specials board, but Joe didn’t seem inclined.

‘I don’t suppose you’d like to share the baked chocolate fondant?’ she asked wistfully, and he just groaned and laughed.

‘There’s my resolve going down the drain.’

‘That’s a yes, then,’ Maureen said with a smile. ‘One, or two? And do you want coffee with it?’

He shook his head. ‘Just one, and no coffee for me, Maureen. Iona?’

‘No, I’m fine, thanks. The fondant will be more than enough.’

It took ten minutes to come, but it was worth the wait and she was enjoying the view and the company.

Maureen put the plate down between them, they picked up their spoons and Iona waited for him to cut it in half, but he didn’t, just dug his spoon in, so she joined in and kept eating until their spoons clashed in the middle.

She glanced up, their eyes locked and he smiled and put his spoon down. ‘Go on. Finish it. It was your idea.’

She didn’t argue, just pulled the plate closer, scraped it clean and put the spoon down a little sadly.

‘That was delicious. All of it. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. Shall we go?’

She nodded, and he got to his feet, dropped a pile of notes on the bar in front of Maureen and they headed out into the darkness and a light drizzle.

‘Oh. I didn’t know it was going to do that,’ she said with a rueful laugh, but he just reached out and took her hand in a firm, warm grip and they ran, guided by the light of his phone, and got back to the house before they were more than slightly damp.

‘Coffee?’ he asked, heading for the porch and standing under the shelter.

She hesitated on the drive. ‘I thought you didn’t want coffee?’

‘No, I didn’t want coffee there. I prefer mine, but I can’t say that to Maureen, can I? It would break her heart.’

It made her laugh, as it was meant to, and she suddenly realised she did want a coffee, and she was also curious about the house, and his aunt, and—well, him, really.

And she was getting wet.

She stepped under the shelter of the porch and smiled. ‘Coffee would be lovely. Thank you.’

He put the key in the door, turned it and pushed it open, flicking a switch that flooded the hall with light.

‘Welcome to the seventies,’ he said wryly, and stepped back to let her in.

* * *

It was stunning, and completely unexpected.

The walls were a pale acid green, but that wasn’t what caught her eye, it was the way the ceiling sloped steeply up from right to left, rising along the line of the stairs and over the landing, creating a wonderful, open vaulted entrance hall.

‘Wow! I love this!’

‘Me, too. It goes downhill a bit from now on, mind,’ he said with a low chuckle that did something odd to her insides. ‘Come into the kitchen, I’ll make you a coffee.’

She followed him through a glass door into a large rectangular room that ran away to the right across the back of the house. To the left were double doors into another room, in front of her beyond a large dining table was a set of bi-fold doors, opening she assumed to the garden, and on her right at the far end of the room was the kitchen area.

Not that there was much kitchen.

‘Ahh. I see what you mean.’

He chuckled again. ‘Yeah. It’s a mess. I got the bi-folds put in and the dividing wall taken out, so I lost most of the units, but to be honest I haven’t got the time or energy to decide what I want in here and it’s a big job, starting with taking the floor up and re-screeding it because they weren’t quite level. So I’m learning to love the tiny scraps of seventies worktop and the ridiculously huge sink and the utter lack of storage, but it’s only me so it’s fine. And the pub’s handy when I get desperate,’ he added with a grin. ‘So, coffee. Caf, decaf, black, white, frothy?’

She stared at him, slightly mesmerised by the sight of him propped against the sink with his arms folded, relaxed and at ease. It was gradually dawning on her just how incredibly attractive he was, how well put together, how confident, caring, thoughtful, sexy—

‘Hello?’

She pulled herself together and tried to smile. ‘Sorry. I was just a bit stunned by the kitchen,’ she lied. ‘Um—can you do a decaf frothy?’

‘Sure, that’s what I’m having.’ He flipped a capsule into the machine, put a mug under the spout and pressed a button, put milk into the frother and then propped himself up again and frowned thoughtfully at her.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Well, nothing you want to hear. You told me to butt out.’

‘Are we back to that?’ she said with a sigh.

‘Yes, we are, because... Iona, if you want a baby, why wouldn’t you look for a partner?’

‘I’ve tried that,’ she said, really not wanting to go there. ‘And, anyway, that’s not what it’s about.’

He looked puzzled, then shrugged. ‘OK, so why not go through a proper sperm bank or clinic? The risks to you are huge if you don’t use a donor regulated by the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority. They won’t have had genetic testing, no sperm quality check—it’s a minefield, even if you don’t take into account the risk of picking up a life-changing infection such as Hepatitis or HIV. The screening process is so thorough, so intensive, the physical and mental health screening, sperm quality, family medical history, motivation—and the children have the right to trace their fathers now once they’re eighteen, so nobody’s going to be doing it for anything other than the right reasons. Why on earth would you go anywhere else?’

‘I wouldn’t. I haven’t. I’m not that stupid, so you can relax and stop fretting. I wasn’t serious about picking up a random stranger, I was winding you up, really, but I am looking for a sperm donor. That much was true.’ She studied him thoughtfully. ‘You seem to know an awful lot about it,’ she added, searching his eyes, and something in them changed again.

He looked away briefly, then back, the silence between them somehow deafening in the quiet room.

‘Yeah. I do,’ he said finally, as if it had been dragged out of him. ‘I’ve done it, but that was years ago, before I properly understood the knock-on effect of it.’

Wow. ‘Knock-on effect?’ she asked, still processing the fact that he’d been a donor. Ironic, since she’d mentally given him ten out of ten, but he didn’t need to know that.

‘Yes. Wondering—you know—about the children, if there are any, if they’re OK? That sort of stuff.’

‘Can they contact you?’

‘No, because I did it before the law changed, but I can still provide contact details if I want to via the HFEA, and I could also find out how many children there are, their ages, their genders, but I can’t contact them to find out if they’re OK, and that troubles me. Are they happy? Are they safe? What are their parents like? Are they still together? Are they well? I just don’t know, and it’s unlikely I ever will, and it bugs me.’

‘But it’s not your worry, surely?’

‘Yes, it is,’ he said emphatically. ‘I know they aren’t technically my children, but in a way they are because without me they wouldn’t exist, so morally I feel responsible. What if they’re unhappy? What if someone’s hurting them? It’s unlikely, I know that, but still I worry. Of course I worry.’

‘But as you said, it’s highly unlikely and, anyway, you’ve signed over that right, that responsibility. They’re not your children, any more than this would be my child. I’m doing it for my sister, and I won’t have any rights, I know that because I’ll sign them all over to Isla and Steve when they adopt it, but I’m fine with that. That’s why I’m doing it, not because I want a child.’

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped a fraction. ‘You’re going to give it away?’ he said. ‘Iona, that’s—Will you be able to do that? It’s going to take so much courage. What if you change your mind when it comes to it? Are you able to change your mind?’

Her heart gave a little hiccup, but she ignored it. ‘I won’t change my mind, because there’s no room in my life for a child now, and I don’t know if there ever will be, and this is something I can do for Isla and Steve, and I want to help them because I love them.’

‘Yes, of course you do, but—’ He rammed a hand through his hair, his eyes troubled. ‘I only gave away my DNA and that feels hard enough sometimes. You’re talking about cradling your own baby inside your body for ninemonths! How will you be able to give it away, even if it is to your sister? I know you love her and you know her very well, so you know the baby will be safe and loved, but—what about you, Iona? How will you feel? And what if they split up? What if their marriage breaks down?’

‘It won’t! And this is my sister, Joe—my identicaltwin sister, so genetically it would be identical to a child of her own. It could be her own. It’ll be just like being the incubator for their own baby, and I want to do it for her because I love her and I want to help her—’

‘I know you do, but...?’

‘But? How many siblings do you have?’

‘None.’

‘None?’ She laughed disbelievingly. ‘None. So how can you possibly judge my motives?’

‘I can’t. I’m not judging your motives, I wouldn’t presume to do that and I’m sure you’re doing it for the all right reasons. I have immense respect for your courage in even contemplating it. I’m only thinking of the impact it would have on you, knowing how hard it’s been for me, and what I’ve done is nothing compared to what you’re talking about. Please tell me you’ve thought it through.’

‘I thought you were making me a coffee?’ she said, changing the subject abruptly, and he swore softly, threw away the one he’d made ages ago and dropped another capsule in the machine. Then he scrubbed a hand through his hair again and sighed as he turned back to her.

‘Sorry.’

‘Are you?’

He sighed again. ‘Yes and no. I know I keep banging the same old drum, Iona, but I’m really worried about you now.’

‘You really don’t need to be, Joe, I do know what I’m doing. It’s not an idle thought. I’ve researched it, I’ve considered it at length, discussed it endlessly—I’m not stupid.’

‘I never said you were. Just maybe too kind for your own good. Whose idea was it?’

‘Mine. All mine.’

‘And they said yes?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, they said yes, but not until they’d tried to talk me out of it, but I could tell they didn’t really want to do that, they just wanted to be sure that I was sure, and I am.’

‘Have you ever been pregnant?’

She shook her head, feeling a pang of regret because they’d tried and failed. ‘No. Have you?’ she asked, and he laughed.

‘I don’t believe so.’

‘Then how can you lecture me on what it’ll feel like?’

‘Because I have imagination? Because I have empathy? Because I know how hard I’ve found even doing what I did?’

‘But it’s different to your situation. I know who the baby’s going to, and I know it’ll be loved and cherished and brought up with my values. Did you have any control over who had your sperm?’

He shook his head. ‘No. And that’s at the root of my worries, I have to admit, because I can never be utterly sure my ch—’ He cut himself off. ‘My offspring will be loved and cared for as I would have loved and cared for them.’

She searched his eyes—those gorgeous, penetrating, honest eyes—and she could read them clearly, could see the genuine worry he felt for his unknown children, the responsibility he felt for their happiness over which he had no control.

‘You’re a good man, do you know that?’ she said softly, and he laughed and turned away, making a production of spooning out the froth onto her new coffee.

‘Chocolate sprinkles?’

‘Is it powder?’

‘No, it’s flakes of real chocolate.’

‘Oh, yes, please. I love those.’

‘Me, too. Here.’

He handed it to her, and she went up on tiptoe and brushed a kiss against his cheek.

‘Thank you.’

He looked slightly startled. ‘It’s only a coffee.’

‘It’s not for the coffee, it’s for caring—about the children you don’t know, about me—just—for caring.’

He hesitated, staring down into her eyes, and then he gave a fleeting smile.

‘You’re welcome. I didn’t mean to interfere, but I can’t stand by and watch a friend sleepwalk into potential unhappiness without saying anything.’

‘Am I a friend?’ she asked, and he gave her a thoughtful half-smile.

‘I think you could be. I’m not in the habit of spilling my guts to people who aren’t.’

He turned back to the coffee maker, and she perched on a chair at the big old table, a funny warm feeling inside, and watched him make his own coffee, his movements as deft and sure as they’d been in Resus. He rinsed out the milk frother, sat down opposite her and met her eyes.

‘Talking about spilling my guts, it’s a bit late to worry about this, but you’re the only person outside my family who I’ve ever told about any of this stuff, so I’d be grateful if you’d keep it to yourself.’

She nodded, surprised that he’d even felt he had to ask her. ‘Of course I will. I’m amazed you told me. It’s not the sort of thing people talk about—and snap, by the way. Only my sister and brother-in-law know. We haven’t even told the rest of the family.’

‘Yes, I can understand that.’ He gave a wry chuckle. ‘I didn’t mean to tell you, by the way, it just sort of came out, but—Iona, please be careful, and if you do decide to do it, do it properly? Don’t go and have some unpremeditated random one-night stand with someone just because they’re tall and blond and have good bone structure.’

That made her laugh. ‘I was sort of joking, but it’s what my brother-in-law looks like, and we’ve been trying to find a sperm donor who at least has some of his physical characteristics. They tried IVF and got a few live embryos, but the quality wasn’t great and none of them implanted, although nobody could say why for certain. Steve’s sperm quality isn’t good, so she’s tried AI with a tall, blue-eyed blond donor, which didn’t work, and I’ve tried AI three times with Steve’s semen and not got pregnant.’

A little frown appeared fleetingly between his brows. ‘I didn’t realise you’d got that far down the line,’ he said slowly.

‘Oh, yes. This isn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing, Joe. We’ve been talking about it for ages. That’s part of the reason I took this job, to be nearer to them. So, anyway, it needs to be another sperm donor since the one she tried has reached his limit of donations, and we can’t find another one that ticks all the boxes on any of the donor sites, at least not the physical appearance boxes. And, yes, I know that’s the least important thing in a way, but it’s tough enough for them without the child looking like a cuckoo in the nest. Maybe I need to go on a cruise up the fjords and try and find a Viking,’ she added lightly, winding him up again, and he spluttered into his coffee and wiped the froth off his lip, his eyes brimming with laughter.

‘Do you know who goes on fjord cruises? Tourists, Iona. People like my parents. And, believe me, they don’t look like Vikings.’

‘Oh, well, there goes that idea, then.’ She laughed, then sat back, cradling her coffee. ‘Tell me about them—your parents.’

‘My parents? What can I tell you? My dad’s called Bill, my mother’s Mary, they’re in their late sixties. Dad’s an ex-army officer, invalided out after an explosives accident that left him with—well, let’s call them life-changing injuries, for want of a better description. And as if that wasn’t enough, my mother, who was pregnant at the time, lost her baby.’

‘Oh, Joe, that’s awful. That’s so sad.’

He nodded. ‘They think it was probably the shock of the severity of his injuries that caused her miscarriage. It might have been, or it might not, but because of his injuries it was their last chance and they lost it. Hence why I’m an only child. And despite his best efforts to get rid of her, my mother’s stuck by him and they have a great relationship, but underlying it all is this sadness, a sort of grief I guess for the baby they lost and the children they never had.’

‘Hence why you were a sperm donor,’ she said slowly, understanding him now at last. ‘To help people like them.’

‘Yes. Or at least partly. I was four when the accident happened, and I spent a lot of that year living with my aunt and uncle here, and it was the nearest they got to having their own children and we’re still really close. Elizabeth, my aunt, is my father’s much older sister, and she’s widowed now, but she and her husband built this house in their thirties as their family home, and the family never happened. She’s never got over that.’

‘Does she know what you’ve done?’

‘Oh, yes. She was the first person I told and she’s been hugely supportive.’ He smiled fondly. ‘Oddly, I can talk to her about things I could never tell my parents.’

‘I don’t think that’s odd. I feel the same. There are things I can tell my aunt I’d never tell my mother.’ She looked up at him again, watching his face carefully as she spoke because she’d just had a crazy idea and she didn’t know how it was going to land.

‘Talking of families—are you busy this weekend?’

‘Why?’ he asked warily, turning his head slightly to the side and eyeing her suspiciously.

‘Because I need a plus one. My baby brother’s getting married tomorrow, and I have to go to his wedding, and I really, really don’t want to go on my own.’

He frowned. ‘Are you suggesting I should come with you? Because there’s no way in hell I’m going to another wedding as long as I live, not after my catastrophic car crash of a marriage.’

She laughed wryly, even though it wasn’t funny. ‘I can understand that. It’s exactly why I don’t want to go, except I never got to the altar. I found out three days before my wedding that he’d slept with the stripper on his stag weekend, and when I challenged him he said something about it just being drunken high spirits, so when I asked him if he’d still been drunk on the subsequent four occasions he started grovelling, but I’d had enough so I called it off, and then he went round slagging me off to all our friends, saying I’d dumped him without hearing his side of it.’

‘What side? It sounds to me like you’re well off out of it.’

‘Oh, tell me about it, but I still don’t want to go to Johnnie’s wedding on my own with all the friends and relatives who would have been at mine, who’ll feel morally obliged to come and tell me how sorry they were and try and get all the juicy details. Especially not since it’s also the same church I should have got married in less than two years ago.’

‘Where is it?’ he asked, surprising her.

‘Where? Norfolk. A village just west of Norwich, not all that different to this one, but at least it’s a nice, easy drive.’

He grunted. ‘It’s not the drive I have issues with, it’s the wedding. Watching someone making their vows and wondering if they have the slightest idea what they’ve let themselves in for.’

‘What, like your parents, who by the sound of it are devoted to each other? Or your uncle and aunt?’

He gave a sharp sigh. ‘They’re different.’

‘No, they’re not. They sound like my sister and brother-in-law, and my parents, and my uncle and aunt. And Johnnie and Kate love each other to bits. They always have. They’re childhood sweethearts, and they’re wonderful together, but I just know I’m going to cry and make an idiot of myself and everybody’ll think it’s because of...’

‘So you want me there to—what? Pass you tissues?’

She laughed at that, at the thought of him handing her tissues like a production line as she sobbed her way through the ceremony that she’d been denied.

‘Well, I think you need to do something fairly mega to make up for being arrogant and then stealing my stethoscope. Is it really too much to ask?’

She was only joking, never for a moment thinking he’d agree, not now she knew he’d had an apparently disastrous marriage, and he stared at her slightly open-mouthed for a moment.

‘I didn’t steal it. I just forgot to give it back.’

‘So you’re not denying you were arrogant?’ she said with a little coaxing smile, and to her surprise he groaned and rolled his eyes. Was he weakening?

‘I’m not staying over,’ he said, jabbing his finger at her to add emphasis to every word. ‘I don’t want to stay over.’

So he’d go? ‘Nor do I, but it goes on until midnight so it’s a bit late to drive back. I should be there now, as well, but I lied and told them I was on call.’

He gave her an odd look. ‘Why would you do that?’

‘To get out of the family dinner, so they didn’t have to tiptoe round the elephant in the room? But I don’t really have a choice about tomorrow night. They’ll be expecting me to stay, and I’m sure there’ll be room for you somewhere. You can have my room if it comes to that. And you’d get to meet my sister and brother-in-law, too, and see why I want to make them happy.’

She left it there, hanging, holding her breath, and he said nothing for an age, just stared into his coffee, swirling it round and watching the froth, then he lifted it to his mouth, drained it and put it down with exaggerated care.

‘OK. I’ll do it,’ he said, his eyes deadly serious now. ‘As much as anything so I can meet them, and find out what kind of people would let you do this for them, because they’d have to be pretty special for you to make that kind of sacrifice.’

She felt her eyes fill and grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard. ‘They are—and thank you! You’re a life-saver.’

‘Don’t bother to thank me. I’ll probably spend most of the journey there and back trying to talk sense into you. So, what’s the dress code, and when do we need to leave?’

* * *

He picked her up at eleven, and she took one look at him in a blinding white dress shirt, black bow tie and immaculately cut black dress trousers, and felt her heart rate pick up.

He took her bag, put it in the back of the car and held the door for her, then slid behind the wheel and clipped on his seat belt, drawing her attention to his hands. He had beautiful hands. Clever hands.

‘OK?’

‘Yes. You scrub up quite nicely,’ she said rashly, and he turned his head and met her eyes.

‘You don’t do too badly yourself,’ he said, and then turned away before she could analyse the expression in them, but he’d looked...

‘What’s the postcode?’ he asked, and he keyed it into his satnav, started the engine and pulled away.

She swallowed, fastened her seat belt and took a deep breath, and he turned the radio on, saving her from the need to break the silence.

* * *

‘So, why interventional radiology?’ she asked after an hour interspersed with the odd comment about landmarks and idle chat.

He gave her a wry look and laughed as he turned his attention back to the road. ‘Are you afraid I’ll start lecturing you again or something?’

She felt her mouth twitch. ‘No, I’m not. I doubt if I could stop you, anyway, you’re like a dog with a bone. I’m just genuinely curious. It’s seems a bit...’

‘Dry?’ he offered.

‘Exactly. Or maybe not, not after what I saw you do yesterday.’

He laughed again. ‘Oh, that was pure theatre. Most of it’s much more mundane and measured. And the amount of learning, the sheer volume of what you have to know, is staggering. There are so many uses for it, so many different conditions that can be cured or alleviated by what is essentially a very minimal intervention. Every part of the body has a blood supply, and by using the blood vessels we can deliver life-saving interventions directly where they’re needed—stents, cancer treatments, clearing blockages, making blockages to stop bleeding—it’s endless.

‘We used to think that keyhole surgery was the holy grail, but IR is expanding so fast and there are so many potential uses for it it’s mind-boggling. I spend most of my waking hours either practising it or studying it, because if I don’t, I won’t know enough and I’ll make an error and someone will suffer when it could have been avoided.’

‘Is that what went wrong with your marriage?’ she asked without thinking, and he flashed her a glance.

‘What, that it suffered because I didn’t study it enough?’ he asked drily, and she laughed.

‘No, I meant you being a workaholic, but that wouldn’t have helped, either.’

He gave a soft snort, and nodded. ‘Probably not. No, she fancied the idea of being a doctor’s wife—the money, the social status—she had no idea what being married to a junior hospital doctor actually meant.’

‘She can’t have been that clueless.’

‘Oh, she wasn’t—far from it. She just hated her job and thought I’d be a good meal ticket, but then she realised that it wasn’t just for a year or two, it was going to be like it for at least a decade, and so...’

‘So?’

‘She found a way to deal with it. I didn’t know about it, but I knew she was unhappy, and one day I thought, To hell with it, I won’t stay at work practising in the skills lab, I’ll go home, take her out for dinner. And I caught her in bed—our bed—with her lover.’

She sucked in a breath. ‘Oh, Joe, that’s awful.’

His hands tightened on the wheel. ‘Yeah, tell me about it. He wasn’t the first, either, apparently, but it was my fault as much as hers. I was neglecting her, I was constantly tired, we hardly had a social life to speak of—it was no wonder, really, that she’d got bored with waiting for me to notice her and turned to other men.’

‘You still don’t do it like that,’ she said, furious on his behalf. ‘You stay, or you leave. You don’t cheat.’

‘Exactly, and especially not as many times as she told me she had, or for as long. So I left. And then, even though technically she was the one in the wrong, she got half the equity from the house. And we lived in London, so she did very nicely out of it because I’d bought it two years before I met her and pushed myself to the limit, and by the time the divorce settlement was through I’d been priced out of the market.’

She reached out and laid her hand lightly over his on the steering wheel. ‘I’m sorry, Joe.’

His head turned and his mouth flickered into a wry smile. ‘Don’t be sorry. It was a lesson learned. I won’t make the same mistake again.’

He drew in a slow breath, let it out on a huff and smiled again. ‘So, tell me about your family so I don’t put my foot in it.’

‘Oh, there’s not much to tell. My father’s an accountant, my mother was a nurse, my sister’s a town planner, her husband’s an architect, my brother’s a solicitor and Kate, his fiancée, is a legal executive. We’re all boring normal, except that Isla and Steve can’t seem to make a baby, and to put the cherry on top, Kate’s just found out she’s pregnant.’

‘Ouch.’

‘Yes. Ouch. And ignore your satnav, you need to turn left here.’


CHAPTER THREE (#u7f5466cc-0f2c-5cbf-9a9d-7f478e52ed6f)

‘YOU DIDN’T CRY. There I was, with tissues at the ready—’

‘Oh, I nearly did, but only for the right reasons, and it was a lovely wedding.’

He laughed softly. ‘I suppose it was, as weddings go.’

They were sitting at one of the round tables in the marquee that had housed the reception, alone now because the others had gone off to mingle, and he absently unwrapped another of the heart-shaped chocolates covered in red foil and offered it to her.

She reached over and took it out of his fingers and put it in her mouth. ‘Thank you for coming with me. I know you didn’t want to.’

He unwrapped another chocolate, balled up the foil and flicked it idly into the middle of the table. ‘No, I didn’t, but hey. We’ve survived, and the band’s starting up, judging by the sound of it. Fancy a dance?’

‘Really? You want to dance?’

‘Not really, I’d rather sit here and eat chocolates, but if it’ll keep you out of mischief and stop you crawling off into the bushes with the best man, then I guess I probably should.’

‘Why would I do that?’ she asked, half laughing, half shocked, and he just rolled his eyes and smiled.

‘I was joking—but he is tall and blond and vaguely Nordic.’

‘And happily married to a very pregnant woman, in case you hadn’t noticed. Anyway, I wouldn’t do that!’

‘Good. One less thing for me to worry about,’ he teased.




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