Susan Stephens
IN THE VENETIAN’S BED

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

COMING NEXT MONTH

CHAPTER ONE

NELL FOSTER’S shout brought the people strolling along the narrow street to an abrupt halt. The scene froze in a distorted snapshot. On the cobbled calle above the canal a tall, dark man was holding a limp blonde child in his arms. From the gondola swaying gracefully below him, a young mother thrust out her arms in alarm.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing with my daughter?’ On the pretext of helping her to disembark the gondolier had passed Molly to a stranger!

Nell’s voice sounded shrill in the oppressive silence of the ancient backwater, and shock made her actions disjointed as she hurried to disembark. She stumbled on the treacherous moss-coated steps, forcing the man holding Molly to lurch out and save her. She shook him off angrily. Molly was like a rag doll in his arms, the soft breeze feathering fronds of baby hair around her face.

‘Give her to me now!’ People stared. Nell didn’t care. She had one goal in mind, and that was Molly. While they had been travelling along the canal at a snail’s pace with no means of escape Molly had fallen asleep so heavily Nell hadn’t been able to wake her. It was an unnatural sleep that terrified Nell. And now this man had taken Molly from her.

‘No.’ The deep, faintly accented voice was brusque and uncompromising.

He was refusing? Nell looked for support, but there was something so commanding in the man’s manner that, rather than attempting to help her, people were already starting to move away.

Used to wielding authority, she guessed, he was in his mid to late twenties and expensively though casually dressed. He was groomed in a way only the rich had time for—pressed trousers, crisp shirt, and with a lightweight sweater slung around his shoulders that she would have needed superglue at the very least to keep in place. He made her feel shabby, frightened and very angry.

‘Stand out of my light.’ Dipping his head to look her in the eyes, he rapped the words at her.

‘Give my daughter back to me!’ Nell met and held his gaze. She had no intention of moving one inch. What, and leave Molly in the arms of some man she didn’t know?

‘Don’t,’ he warned, stepping back when she tried to take Molly from him.

‘Don’t? What do you mean, don’t? That’s my daughter you’re holding.’

Dazzling black-gold eyes equally full of determination locked with Nell’s.

‘You’ve had a shock. You’re unsteady on your feet. If you fall into the canal, who will rescue you?’ He glanced at Molly lying insensible in his arms, turning the question into a rebuke.

A few locks of inky black hair had fallen into his eyes as he spoke—the only part of him that had resisted perfection. Nell resented absorbing that much about him. ‘We need help. Can’t you see?’ She fumbled for her phone while the sun beat down on her shoulders, making it impossible to breathe. The man holding Molly seemed to exist in a bubble of air-conditioning.

‘You’re overwrought,’ he said coldly.

Overwrought? ‘Are you surprised?’ She watched with mounting anger as he pulled out a phone and flipped it open. It seemed like another tactic to avoid giving Molly back to her. ‘Who are you calling?’

He paused with the mobile halfway to his ear. ‘An ambulance.’

‘An ambulance?’ Nell’s mouth dried. Briefly, her mind refused to accept the possibility of an ambulance coming down the canal. But she knew there had to be some means by which emergency cases could be transported to hospital in Venice.

Emergency cases? Molly was only eighteen months old! She’d never had a day’s illness in her life.

Nell stared at the man more intently. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded.

He pressed his lips together and shook his head as he listened to the voice at the other end of the phone line.

Nell gazed at Molly lying in his arms. She was almost frightened to touch her own daughter. Molly looked so frail, as if all the life had leached out of her.

The man started speaking rapidly in Italian. Nell had found the language an interesting challenge earlier, but now it was just a hostile barrier she couldn’t cross. Her heart jerked as his phone snapped shut. Why didn’t he say something? Couldn’t he see she was desperate for information? But all his attention was focused on Molly. His brow was furrowed and she could see he was worried. It endorsed her own fears. Why wouldn’t Molly wake up? No one slept like this unless there was something seriously wrong.

When he moved she followed him into the shade. ‘Will the ambulance be long?’

‘No.’

‘So, do you know what’s wrong?’ She ran a hand through her hair. Why should she assume he knew anything? But she was desperate. She didn’t know what was happening, she didn’t know him—she didn’t know anything. ‘Who are you?’

Panic was rising inside her chest. She fought it back, forcing herself to concentrate as he started to say something. She couldn’t afford to go to pieces.

‘I’m a doctor—a medical practitioner.’ He held her gaze fast in a blaze of self-assurance.

If that was meant to reassure her, it had the opposite effect. All the panic and fear drained out of her to be replaced by dread. She had been brought up to trust and respect the medical profession, and she’d had no reason to change that opinion until a catastrophic event had pulled the wool from her eyes.

‘My name is Dottore Luca Barbaro.’

The man had moved on smoothly to introductions, Nell realised. It was as if she were watching a horror film in slow motion, a film that had no connection with her life. ‘Dr Barbaro,’ she repeated distractedly.

‘That’s right.’

He sounded as though he expected her to fall on her knees and give thanks.

‘Well, now that you’ve made your call, Dr Barbaro, you can give my daughter back to me!’

‘Don’t you trust me?’ His brow furrowed.

‘Trust you? Why should I trust you?’

‘You’re in shock,’ he said, sounding irritable. ‘It’s better if I hold her.’

Better? What could be better than for a child to be held by its own mother? ‘I’m not in shock. Give her to me.’ The urge to rip Molly from his arms was growing every moment, but she couldn’t risk manhandling Molly, not when there was something so obviously wrong.

Nell’s mind darted about, trying to land on a sensible course of action, but nothing made sense—especially this man appearing out of the blue to take charge of their lives. ‘Have you been following us?’ she said suspiciously.

‘Following you?’ His eyes mirrored his impatience.

‘Oh, so you just happened along. And you tell me you’re a doctor. Quite convenient, don’t you think?’

‘Why should I lie to you? I am a doctor. I live just over there.’ He jutted out his chin to indicate some building.

She didn’t look. She had no intention of staring at a place she had no wish to see. ‘And you were standing by your window when our gondola floated past?’

‘Your gondolier rang to warn me you were on your way.’

That seemed so incongruous, it had to be impossible. Then Nell remembered the gondolier had made a call. It was so easy to be seduced by ravishingly beautiful and apparently unchanged Venice, and forget how easily the modern world coexisted with the old.

‘Luck was smiling on you,’ he remarked.

‘Luck?’ It was Nell’s turn to snap.

‘Lucky for you your gondolier knew me and where I live. Marco only had to ring to check that I was in, and then he brought you straight here.’

‘He brought us here intentionally?’

‘He was trying to help you.’

A fact that seemed lost on the child’s mother, Luca thought. He eased his neck. His head was thumping. Sleep deprivation had finally claimed him. This was supposed to be his day off, but when the call came suggesting a worrying case, his time on duty had slipped into its third day. That didn’t matter. The patient came first. The patient always came first.

‘The gondolier brought you here as quickly as he could.’ His tolerance levels, thin at the best of times when dealing with civilians, were at an all-time low. While one part of his brain knew it was routine for the mother to be concerned and emotional, the other, more forceful side resented her interference. The result? He was spitting out words to drive his message home. And the message was: Leave me to deal with this. I don’t need to be here, I don’t want your thanks, just don’t expect me to be your emotional support when I have a job to do.

But there was no nurse here to take the woman away. Grinding his jaw, Luca attempted to calm her down. Human decency demanded that much of him. ‘Marco could see you needed a doctor, so he brought you to me. Didn’t you tell him you needed help?’

‘I didn’t think he understood.’

‘He didn’t. Lucky for you he used his initiative.’

Oh, forget human decency. He was just too damn tired, and the child needed all his attention. Besides, there was something else nagging at him—something that meant he had to be harsh. Feelings, thoughts, all of them inappropriate, were swimming round his head, pulling his eyes to her body when they should be on the patient.

He didn’t need this. A particularly harrowing shift had left him tired and susceptible—how else could he explain the way he was reacting to her?

Luca turned back to the patient in his arms before he had chance to lock eyes with her mother.

‘What are you doing now?’ Nell tensed as he inspected Molly’s fingernails.

‘You’re going to have to put your mistrust of doctors on hold while I check my patient.’

His patient? Her baby. Her life. Nell gritted her teeth. And as for putting her mistrust on hold…! Didn’t this just underline everything she felt about doctors? Didn’t this man’s detached manner justify all the ugly emotion welling inside her now—emotion so close to hatred it was impossible to tell the difference?

‘So, what exactly are you checking, Doctor?’

‘Oxygen levels.’

‘And you can do that just from staring at my daughter’s hand?’

‘I can see if the nails are pink and healthy, or if they are tinged with blue.’

‘Blue? Let me see!’ Fear welled in Nell’s throat. She had no medical training to draw on. She didn’t know if Molly’s nails were pink enough. What kind of mother didn’t know the colour of her own daughter’s nails? Why hadn’t she noticed the colour of Molly’s nails when she was well so she had something to compare them with now?

‘You can’t be expected to know everything.’

And now he could read minds? She doubted he was trying to placate her. In any case, she didn’t want his understanding: she wanted facts. ‘How can I help if you don’t tell me what’s going on?’

‘You can’t help,’ he said flatly.

‘So a mother’s care is worth nothing?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ he said wearily.

‘Then give her to me.’ Nell’s tone sharpened.

He levelled a gaze on her face. ‘If you want me to assess her medical condition you’ll leave her where she is.’

‘You’re a doctor and you don’t know what’s wrong with her yet?’

‘I can’t be certain—’

‘But you must have some idea.’

‘Stop pressing me for answers. You should try to relax—’

‘Relax?’

‘All right, then, how about trusting me?’

‘Why should I trust you? I don’t know you. You could be anyone!’

‘Look, just stay calm, or move away. You’re disturbing my patient.’

Nell held her ground. ‘Your patient is my daughter! If you’re not capable of helping Molly then I’m going to find someone who is.’

‘Where?’

He fired the word back at her. She flinched and fell silent.

‘If you just stay calm everything will be all right,’ he told her.

The man’s assurance infuriated her. He had intoned the platitude in the way Nell was beginning to think must be dished out along with the accreditation MD. ‘And maybe I could stay calm if I thought you had any idea what was wrong with my daughter.’

‘I can’t be sure of anything yet.’

‘Or you don’t know.’ She had been too trusting once before, and that had ended in tragedy. She wasn’t going to make that same mistake again. Not with Molly.

When her husband, Jake, had been killed in a car accident, Nell hadn’t known that Molly’s father might have survived had the junior doctor mistakenly sent to tend him at the roadside been properly trained. Later, in Casualty, she had believed the medics had been trying to save Jake’s life, not covering for their colleague’s mistake. When they had finally admitted Jake was dead it had come as a complete shock to her. There had been no warning, no preparation at all.

It had been a life-changing event that had led to Nell starting a campaign to help others in a similar plight. That campaign was now a charitable trust with volunteers countrywide in the United Kingdom. People who could liaise with the medical staff within a hospital and give whatever support was required to a patient’s relative or friend.

This Luca Barbaro seemed too glamorous, too young, to be an experienced doctor. Very like the young medic who had tended Jake. Nell’s heart lurched.

‘Can you call the hospital? Tell them I want someone there as soon as we arrive—a paediatric consultant, someone experienced. The best!’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ His voice was bordering on sarcastic.

‘Not good enough,’ she said sharply.

His answer was to lock his fingers under Molly, as if she was about to do something stupid like snatch Molly from him. Or was it just to drive home the message that he was in charge?

He leaned over the canal at a perilous angle to peer down it—with Molly in his arms. Nell’s hands balled into fists. Molly’s tiny frame suspended over murky water! Her head was banging with tension by the time he straightened up to stare at her in silence. Did he expect her to start a conversation—about the weather, maybe?

‘You should tell me your name.’

Her eyes had to be registering astonishment, Nell knew. This wasn’t some social gathering where it was mandatory to engage in small talk. She didn’t want to chat with him. She didn’t want to get to know him. She didn’t want to tell him her name. ‘Perhaps you should tell me what you know about Molly’s condition.’

Nell’s brave front dissolved as Luca Barbaro held her gaze. There was something in his eyes that made her heart lurch with dread. How bad was it? Why didn’t he say something to reassure her? Was it because there was nothing to say?

‘You’ll have to tell me your name sooner or later.’

A doctor possessed any number of strategies for winkling out facts from distressed relatives, as she knew only too well, but giving her name as Molly’s next of kin was mandatory. ‘My name is Nell Foster,’ she offered stiffly.

‘And the child’s name?’

‘My daughter’s name is Molly.’ Nell had drawn herself up, thinking she was ready for him. But the moment she spoke Molly’s name her self-assurance disappeared. Molly was the one fixed point in her life, a point around which everything else in her world revolved. Everything she did, thought, or planned was for Molly. As tears welled behind her eyes, she only managed to hold herself together by staring fixedly at her baby.

‘Molly Foster,’ he murmured. ‘Very nice.’

The tender note in his voice took Nell by surprise. Her mouth tightened. She didn’t want his smiles or reassurance. She wanted the answer to one simple question: why had Molly been taken ill?

‘So, Molly…’

She refocused, hearing his crooning tone. No one spoke to Molly like that except for her.

‘Is this your first visit to Venice, Molly?’ he continued, oblivious to the distress he was causing.

‘Yes, it is,’ Nell answered for her daughter stiffly. The rational side of her brain told her that he was watching for signs as he spoke to Molly, clues that might help him to arrive at a diagnosis. The emotional side of her brain didn’t trust him to get it right. She didn’t trust any doctor.

And then he glanced up as if sensing her appraisal. She must have swayed, because the next thing she knew his free hand was under her arm and he was steadying her, and the sensation was shooting up her arm like…

She pulled free with surprise. It was hard to believe his touch had affected her so acutely. How could she respond to a man at a time like this? It disgusted her. It was as if her body was tuned to a different frequency from her mind and she had no control over it. As he moved she was forced to move with him to stay close to Molly, but she took care to keep her distance from the man holding her.

‘That’s better,’ he said infuriatingly, as if Nell had moved into the very spot he would have chosen for her. ‘You should stand well back from the canal. You’ve had a shock and we don’t want any accidents.’

We? She guessed that was the type of nursery-speak he used in the hospital. It was exactly the type of thing she had made it her crusade to abolish.

‘Molly needs you to be strong. She’s very poorly. You do understand that?’

Nell’s stomach clenched with fear. ‘Of course I understand.’ But she didn’t understand any of it. How could Molly be so sick? She wanted him to say it was a mistake. She wanted Molly to wake up.

‘Take some deep breaths, Nell. It will help.’

Nell’s face was hostile as she stared up. She wasn’t the one in need of help here! And she felt Barbaro’s use of her first name as another outrage. While she had been waiting in the hospital for Jake she had noticed that all the patients were addressed by their first names. She had also noticed that no one called out, ‘Hey, John,’ to Jake’s consultant, but had addressed him respectfully as Mr Delaware. She had resented it then, she resented it now. But she had to let it go. Resentment didn’t help Molly. She recommended breathing exercises to her volunteers to use in moments of stress, and tried them now. Gradually the muscles in her chest began to release—but he was leaning over the canal again.

‘Must you do that?’

Rocking back on his heels, Luca Barbaro stared down at her. ‘I’m looking for the ambulance.’

Did that give him the excuse to expose Molly to risk? ‘Well, don’t do it while you’ve got my daughter in your arms. Or give her back to me.’

‘No.’

She couldn’t risk a tussle that might land them all in the water. She had to content herself with stroking Molly’s brow, which had grown warm and clammy. Her chest was working like a miniature bellows, while her cheeks were unnaturally pink. ‘Does she have a fever?’

‘I’ll know more when we reach the hospital and I can run some tests.’

‘So, in fact, you know damn all?’ Hot and cold waves of terror were washing over her. She knew she shouldn’t shout, or lose her cool, but some atavistic instinct was shouting at her to take Molly and run…find help. But where would she run to? She was lost in the maze of backwaters that made up the hidden face of Venice. This calle was a long way from the regular tourist trail with its friendly vendors and signposts to the main attractions. Her knowledge of Italian was minimal, and she would lose valuable time trying to find her way back to the Grand Canal…time Molly might not have.

Nell’s heart pounded as her mind filled with a deep and unreasonable hatred of Venice. Everything that had seemed so beautiful, so charming when they had first arrived had turned an ugly face on them. She glanced around, wondering if the dilapidation harboured the blight that had infected Molly—or the water, perhaps? The unusual silence of the traffic-free centre, which so recently she had enjoyed, now represented isolation; the lack of signposts seemed now to be a ploy to confuse the unwary tourist. And worst of all, Venice had welded her to this stranger, a man who said he was a doctor. And even if he was a doctor, for all she knew Luca Barbaro was a podiatric surgeon, happier sawing off bunions than treating children! But she was stuck with him. She couldn’t risk setting out on her own with Molly and getting lost.

It was her fault. She shouldn’t have brought Molly so far from home for a holiday. But then Jake’s accident had happened at the end of their road—on familiar territory…The policewoman sent to break the news and comfort her afterwards had said that was where so many accidents happened, when people let their concentration slip after a long journey. And of course, it hadn’t helped that Jake had had a secret life to distract him. It was hardly surprising he’d gone off the road.

The accident had happened on a Friday night, when Casualty was like a war zone. She had been locked inside her thoughts, fearing the worst, hoping for the best, when the scream came. It had been a woman’s scream, a scream that connected with Nell on so deep a level she had known her whole life was somehow wrapped up in it. When they finally allowed her into Jake’s room, no one had warned her that he wasn’t alone. The last thing she had been expecting to find was a young woman with a tiny baby in her arms, weeping by her dead husband’s bed.

CHAPTER TWO

‘WHAT are you doing?’ Nell refocused as Barbaro fished out his phone again.

‘Calling the ambulance service.’

Was it possible to edit the information he gave out any more? ‘Why?’ she pressed insistently.

‘To make sure there isn’t a hold-up. My patient needs proper care, which I can’t give here.’ He glanced around then held Nell’s stare as if daring her to argue.

Nell had to force herself not to shout. He was talking about Molly so impassively, as if he were a puppet master working them from the remotest reaches of his ivory tower. She shuddered involuntarily. The past, horrific as that had been, was nothing compared to this.

‘Tell me everything you can remember about the day.’

To keep her busy and distracted, Nell suspected as dark eyes probed her thoughts. She wanted time to collect herself, to examine her own actions. If she had done something wrong to bring Molly to this point, then she wanted to be the first to know. ‘Molly was quite well when we woke up this morning.’ A faint smile touched Nell’s lips as she remembered the light-hearted start to their day.

‘Cast your mind back to the moment when you first noticed signs of deterioration.’

‘Deterioration?’ The ugly word wiped out anything good about a day earmarked for pleasure that had tilted on its axis to reveal a face as sinister and outlandish as any of the painted masks she had seen in Venice.

‘Can’t you remember when she first slipped into this state?’

‘If you mean, do I remember when Molly fell so deeply asleep I couldn’t wake her?’ The way he was speaking…so remote, so detached. She couldn’t bear it. She wouldn’t bear it.

‘That’s right,’ he went on. ‘Tell me when the patient—’

‘My daughter’s name is Molly.’ She would not have him discussing Molly as though she were some test case in a textbook.

‘When Molly first became sleepy.’

Nell shook her head as she thought it through out loud. ‘Why did I wait for a problem to become a crisis?’

‘Because you thought she was only sleeping.’

She hadn’t been speaking to Luca Barbaro but to herself, and turned on him angrily. ‘I should have picked it up.’

‘Get over the guilt and tell me what you remember.’

His sharp voice shook her into gear. ‘It happened so gradually I hardly noticed.’

‘Until you couldn’t wake her, I presume? Has anything like this ever happened before?’

‘Never.’

‘This is important, Nell,’ he warned.

‘Do you think I don’t know that? And it’s Ms Foster, thank you.’ She stared at him with hostility. But for Molly’ s sake she had to go over everything again. Nell started to snatch at whispery strands of recollection from the day—the simple breakfast, the cappuccino froth lodging on her lip, which Molly had wanted to copy…dabbing it on, holding her up to laugh at her reflection in the mirror…Nothing to give warning of what was to come. And why was he examining Molly’s fingertips again? Was she getting worse?

The fear was rising again. It sat on her thought processes like a heavy weight. This was far worse than Jake’s accident, even though she’d been pregnant with Molly then, and still had everything to learn about betrayal, loss and loss of trust. She had survived the disillusionment of discovering Jake’s double life, survived having everything she believed in ripped away, and with no warning at all, but, staring at Molly lying lifeless in Luca’s arms, she wasn’t sure she was equal to this.

She wanted to ask more questions, but remembered from her experience with Jake that doctors were masters of deception. What would this man tell her that she could believe? She had been told so many lies. Where there’s life, there’s hope—that was just one of the many platitudes she had been fed in the hospital. No one told her before she went into Jake’s room that he was already brain-dead, and that his body only lived on thanks to the machines breathing for him.

‘Have you come up with anything yet?’

Dragging herself back to the present, Nell realised that Luca Barbaro had a frighteningly similar manner to the doctors she had encountered in the hospital following Jake’s accident. ‘I’m trying to remember.’ She was struggling with every atom of intellect at her command to try and pin down a trigger. If she could just identify the moment when things had changed…

She’d been over and over it, and still nothing new, and now the past was sucking her down again like quicksand. Jake’s death had flung back the curtain on his secret life, proving she hadn’t known the man she loved, the man she believed loved her and their unborn child. But Jake was wild, a free spirit. He would never have been content with a conventional life with her…

Barbaro was staring at her, Nell realised, his eyes hypnotic, demanding. He’d guessed something was chipping away at her mind. She didn’t want him climbing inside her head, reading her thoughts.

‘Tell me everything you did from leaving the hotel,’ Barbaro prompted.

His manner rankled. He was so sure of himself, so altogether comfortable in his deeply tanned skin. But however much she wanted to hit back, this was for Molly, and she would give him every bit of help that she could. ‘She became sleepy about half an hour after we boarded the gondola. At first I thought it was because she found the ride soothing. I was day-dreaming too…’ Nell stopped abruptly. Help was one thing, sharing her personal impressions with this man was something else.

‘And before that?’

‘Nothing. She was fine.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure. Will you give her to me?’

‘No. You might drop her.’

‘Drop her?’ Was he mad? ‘I can assure you, I won’t!’

‘You look light-headed to me.’

‘Is that in your professional opinion?’

Ignoring the sarcasm, he leaned out again, and so far this time, Nell grabbed him by the sleeve.

He looked down at her hand on his arm and she quickly drew it back.

‘Will you please try to calm down?’

‘How do you expect me to be calm when you take chances with my daughter—when you stand there saying nothing, explaining nothing?’ Nell shook her head. She would never get through to him. As far as Dr Barbaro was concerned, she was the unavoidable encumbrance that came with each of his patients—their relative or friend.

Digging in her pocket, she found her phone. Relief flooded through her; she could do something now. She could ring the emergency services—take over. And the number was…?

Why hadn’t she thought to ask at the hotel about the local emergency number? Because an emergency was the last thing you thought about on holiday…because all it took was one ray of sunshine and your brain shut down.

‘What are you doing?’ Luca Barbaro said sharply.

She ignored him and kept on punching numbers. ‘I’m ringing our hotel.’

‘Why?’

‘To ask them for the number of the emergency services.’

‘I’m perfectly capable of handling this. It’s too late for them to do anything, and you’ll just complicate everything. It will be quicker if we wait.’

‘For how long?’ she almost shouted.

‘You’d make better use of your time if you could remember something.’

Their voices were rising over Molly’s head, Nell realised, clamping her mouth shut. Did he think she was being deliberately obstructive?

‘Where did you start your day?’ he demanded.

She thought back to St Mark’s Square: grandeur and scale beyond imagining. Pigeons wheeling over their heads like dull grey streamers. The cafés, the crowds. Molly eating ice cream, pasta…She blenched. ‘Molly doesn’t have food poisoning, does she?’

He frowned, but didn’t answer.

‘Don’t you know?’

‘I’m sorry, I’m not prepared to confirm or deny anything until I’m certain.’

He was sorry? She doubted that somehow. ‘You must be able to tell me something.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t.’

She gritted her teeth. ‘How far away are we from the hospital?’

‘Not too far.’

‘Then why don’t we walk?’ she said with exasperation.

‘Not too far by boat,’ he clarified.

Nell felt as if she was tearing up inside with frustration. She wanted to do something. Most of all, she wanted the ground to open up and swallow him, leaving Molly safe and well in her pushchair. With an angry sound she raked her hair.

‘If this is getting too much for you, I could always help you down to that ledge and you could sit down.’

Too much for her? Sit down? She couldn’t believe he was pointing to a seat cut into the rock beside the steps rubbed smooth by countless weary travellers—as if she could relax like them. ‘I’m not tired!’ She ignored his outstretched hand. The last thing she wanted to do was sit down. No, not the last thing. That had to be taking his hand. She had no intention of touching any part of him.

The black-gold gaze lingered on her face. ‘Worrying will only sap your energy.’

‘Thanks for the advice.’ Nell raked her hair again until it stood in even angrier spikes. ‘Why don’t you save the platitudes, and give my daughter back to me?’

‘Bad temper won’t help either…’

He was looking at her hair. Let him look. It perfectly mirrored her feelings. Doubtless Barbaro preferred his women to have long, silky tresses he could wind around his fist…

A siren blasted and Nell exhaled with relief. At last something was happening.

The launch painted in orange and white had Ambulanza emblazoned along the side and across the front. Moving steadily towards them, it finally slowed beside the steps.

‘Be careful when you climb on board,’ Luca Barbaro advised. ‘Leave Molly’s pushchair to one of the men. We haven’t time to deal with a second emergency.’

And then he was gone—with Molly. When she went to follow, one of the paramedics got in her way. Nell panicked, the past mocking her, reminding how they had kept her away from Jake. But then Barbaro stuck his head out of the cabin to see where she was and shouted something in Italian. She didn’t wait to work out what it was. The man moved out of the way, and she hurried on board.

The fear that she would be separated from Molly was so real Nell had to ram the past back in its box and lock it up again. She had to tell herself that this wasn’t a replay of Jake’s accident, but something entirely different, and that she had to keep a clear head if she was going to stay on top of this new nightmare.

As she ducked her head to enter the cabin she could see Luca Barbaro was already treating Molly. He was clearly in his element, moving purposefully, calmly. The men knew him and watched him confidently. Their attitude relaxed her a little.

‘Sit here, please.’ Without taking his attention from Molly, Barbaro directed her to a bench seat on the opposite side of the cabin. As far away from Molly as possible.

He’d shifted up a gear, sloughing off all the irritation she’d sensed on shore. He was delivering instructions into his phone now, as well as to the men on board, and she didn’t need to understand the language to know who was in charge, or to gather that this was a full-blown emergency and there was no time to lose.

The creeping cold that had started down her spine spread to Nell’s shoulders as she sat watching. She didn’t even know that she was shivering until Luca Barbaro turned in the middle of attending to Molly and murmured something to one of the paramedics. Then the man tossed a blanket over her shoulders and she drew it tight.

Nell watched him work with a mixture of awe and dread, all the time willing Molly to wake up. But it didn’t take long for her to lose her flimsy faith. She was stung into speech by the sight of a syringe in his hand.

‘Are you sure all this is necessary?’

‘Yes.’ He glanced over his shoulder too briefly to make eye contact.

She had only wanted him to explain what he was doing. He had checked Molly’s vital signs, listened to her chest, checked her pulse, her blood pressure, tapped her back, scrutinised her fingernails for the umpteenth time and shone a light into her eyes. And now she wanted to be with Molly, holding her…

Nell made her request the moment he straightened up.

Barbaro remained staring at Molly, waiting for signs of improvement, she guessed.

‘Not yet.’

‘When?’ But the powerful engines started up at that moment, drowning out her voice, and then the launch surged forward, fixing her in place. Nell waited until she judged it safe to move—

‘Sit down!’

The harsh command shunted ice through her veins. She speared a look of resentment at him, but at that moment the launch picked up speed, and as it thrust forward the prow lifted, tilting the deck at an extreme angle. Thrown off balance, she was forced to make a grab for one of the upright poles and cling on desperately.

Barbaro’s voice reached her over the roar of the engines. ‘Police launches and ambulances break the speed limits inside the city and we’ll be going even faster when we reach the Grand Canal. Get back to your seat and sit down now. It isn’t safe to stand up.’

Tears of frustration welled in Nell’s eyes. ‘You might have warned me.’ But Barbaro had already turned back to tend to Molly. She tried to get back to her seat, but the launch hit another boat’s wake and lurched unexpectedly.

Nell finally staggered back to her seat, where the weight of emotion pinned her in place. Terror made her want to cry, to sob hysterically and shout out: why? Why Molly? The emotion building in her throat, in her chest was nearly choking her. She guessed that everyone on board would be used to emotional incontinence—all the more reason not to give way to it. She would hold herself in check—do whatever it took not to distract them from treating Molly. Her chest was heaving convulsively, but she made herself calm down. Then at last Dr Barbaro stood back and she could see Molly clearly.

Nell paled. There were so many tubes and wires connected to Molly’s tiny frame. She stared up fearfully, trying to read Luca Barbaro’s face, his eyes…She was so hungry for information. Why didn’t he say something to her?

‘Can I sit with Molly now?’ Her voice was small. ‘Can I hold her?’

‘You might dislodge the drip.’

The drip? She hadn’t noticed it before, but now she did. It was suspended above Molly like an abomination. ‘I wouldn’t—’ Nell’s throat seemed to be caught in a vice. ‘Does she need that?’

‘It’s used for rehydration, and we’re giving antibiotics too, as a precaution.’

Nell frowned. ‘You don’t know what’s wrong with my daughter but you’re pumping her full of drugs?’

‘I consider it necessary.’

‘And what’s that machine?’ She wanted to know. She wanted to know everything. She wanted to drive him, drive him hard. How else was she to find out what was going on? How else was she going to let him know she was there for Molly?

‘A nebuliser. It delivers the medicine in a fine mist so the patient can breathe it in without it disturbing them.’

‘Without it disturbing them?’ Nell shuddered as she stared at the mask on Molly’s face, the coarse green elastic binding her fine baby hair to her moist skin. The noise from the machine was enough to disturb anyone. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? Nothing was going to disturb Molly; nothing could disturb her while she was in this condition.

The sooner they arrived at the hospital the sooner she could breathe easily again, Nell realised. Or maybe not even then. Maybe this man was representative of the type of cold-hearted individual she was going to find there. Something inside her said, if she could just touch Molly, give her love…

‘I won’t disturb her, and I won’t pull anything out.’

She suffered his scrutiny in silence, holding herself together in the hope of passing his test.

‘All right,’ he agreed finally and, Nell guessed, reluctantly. ‘I’ll lift her onto your knee and then you can hold her while she inhales the medicine.’

‘Thank you.’ She was so grateful, all her feelings of hostility towards him started to fade. ‘Does she need the drip as well as the mask?’ Nell tried not to let her gaze linger on the fine tubing hanging from Molly’s slender arm. Molly had never needed a plaster to cover an abrasion in her whole life, let alone required a needle to be inserted in her arm…

‘It’s the most efficient way I know to administer antibiotics and rehydrate the body.’

The body? Nell gasped involuntarily.

‘Your daughter,’ he corrected himself tersely.

Had she got through to him? His dispassionate voice suggested otherwise. ‘The most efficient way you know? How can I be sure you know what you’re doing?’

‘You can’t. I’ll have to take her off you if you are going to get upset.’

‘Don’t threaten me! I’ve got no intention of breaking down, I can assure you,’ she managed coldly, staring into his eyes until he looked away. Then she drank in every nuance of Molly’s changed appearance. Rather than its usual porcelain perfection, Molly’s complexion was ashen and her lips were tinged with blue…like her nails. She looked up again. ‘I think it’s time you told me what’s going on.’

‘When I know I’ll tell you, and not before.’

He was not prepared to deliver a diagnosis that might be disproved once the child was admitted to hospital, where all the necessary tests could be carried out, nor was he accustomed to being harangued—let alone by some pixie-haired termagant with eyes like cobalt searchlights. He’d been looking forward to some hard-won down time when the call came through from Marco, the gondolier. He hadn’t had chance to eat or to drink all day, let alone take a shower, or shave. And his reward for a being a good citizen? A woman who scrutinised his every move as if he were a first-year med student!

If the child hadn’t been so sick he would have left her in the care of his very competent colleagues on board the ambulance. Then her mother could have driven them crazy with her questions. His focus was always on the people under his care. Relatives and friends were the province of his nurses. They acted as intermediaries for him, shielding him from distraction—just the way he liked it. If Nell Foster wanted more—well, she couldn’t have it.

But something made him wonder about her backstory. Why had Ms Foster stripped every bit of feminine allure from her appearance? There wasn’t a suggestion of femininity in her baggy clothes, and the spiky hair was a good indicator for her personality. Her face looked as though it had never seen make-up, and yet her eyebrows were beautifully shaped, and her eyes, fringed with long black lashes, were beautiful. Her teeth were film-star perfect—a fact he could attest to with confidence, since she drew back her lips to snarl at him as many times as most people cast deferential smiles in his direction.

Deferential, her? That was a laugh! She evidently hated doctors, mistrusted them…and him most of all. In this situation he would have expected her to be grateful, hanging on his every word, but she couldn’t have made it plainer that she considered him to be a threat rather than a help to her daughter.

Nevertheless, she stirred feelings in him he was finding it hard to ignore. Her attitude irritated him, he was affronted by it, but there was something more, something electric…But those feelings were not only unusual for him, they were also forbidden to a man in his position. It was more than his fledgling career was worth to…

To what? Sleep with Nell Foster?

That was what he’d wanted to do since the first moment he’d set eyes on her—and therefore he had to put distance between them the moment he could.

CHAPTER THREE

‘I’M STILL waiting for an explanation,’ she reminded him.

He watched her glance sweep across the lines and tubes attached to his patient. Nell Foster was continually harassing him and questioning his judgement. Part of him resented it, part admired her spirit, but most of all he was concerned for the child lying so still and silent on the stretcher. He didn’t want to show the mother how concerned he was. She was steadier now and he wanted to keep her that way. Too much knowledge would frighten her, too little might raise her hopes.

He found himself assessing her covertly. The mother was very different from the child. Nell Foster was robust, her features strong and clearly defined. It followed that the child must take after her father, which opened up more questions. He made himself stop and turn back to his charge. The little girl’s eyes were as vividly blue as her mother’s—he’d seen that when he checked her over. But was her gaze half as direct? He could only hope she was a fighter like her mother.

‘I’m still waiting!’

He turned his professional face to Nell. Her wide, intelligent gaze assured him she wouldn’t let up. It also hit him forcibly in the chest. Clearing his throat, he gazed at the roof of the cabin and launched into a reasonable explanation without giving too much detail. ‘There’s some congestion in your daughter’s lungs. I’m trying to ease her breathing.’ He stopped there, but even this was a first. He never divulged information piecemeal, never uttered a word that wasn’t backed up by hard fact. There was a whole range of tests he would have to carry out before he could be sure of his diagnosis…

‘When will you be able to give me some real answers?’

He had to look at her. ‘Soon, I hope.’

‘You hope?’ She was scathing. ‘How soon can we get someone else to look at Molly—someone who can do more than hope?’

Her mouth was set in a firm line, which drew his attention to her lips. He ignored the insult, and tried to ignore her lips. He brought professionalism to bear like a steel curtain, cutting Nell Foster out of the picture. ‘At the very least, I’ll need an X-ray to confirm my diagnosis. The drugs should help—’

‘Should?’

‘Medicine is not an exact science.’ He couldn’t believe how pompous he sounded.

‘So why not leave her alone until we reach the hospital? Anyone can see she’s sleeping. I think it would be better if you left her to rest rather than pumping her full of drugs before you know what you’re doing!’

‘Oh, do you?’ He’d had enough, but bit his tongue and focused on the child lying on the stretcher. How could he tell Nell Foster that her daughter wasn’t sleeping, but unconscious?

‘If Molly is having difficulty breathing,’ Nell persisted, ‘we should be able to hear something. Coughing, wheezing.’ Her eyes sharpened with certainty, and as he watched hope flood her face something rapped again on the stone he called a heart.

‘Nell, stop this!’

He didn’t know why he’d used her first name in such an emotional and unprofessional way, but the strange thing was that when Nell Foster’s eyes filled with tears his stung too. And it was not just tiredness that made him empathise with his patient’s mother—there was something more, something he had never let through before. There was fragility behind her bravado; he could hear it like a silent cry of desperation. ‘It isn’t always that simple,’ he said carefully. Most people would be content with that.

He should have known. ‘Go on,’ Nell said, firming her jaw.

He looked at her and measured her strength. It didn’t fall short, and that was something he could connect to. He owed it to her to be straight. ‘Sometimes, when things are really serious, there’s very little to hear at all.’

‘Really serious?’ She looked at him and he saw her spirit crumple; the fire went out of her, which again, incredibly, hurt him like hell.

What was this? What was happening to him? He never got involved emotionally. It was one of the first things he’d learned at med school—the moment you became prey to your emotions you were no use to anyone, least of all your patient. ‘Try not to get upset.’ He knew it sounded trite but he didn’t know what to say, had never felt like this before. He longed to escape the suffocating tension swirling round the cabin.

‘What do you suggest?’ Her voice was shaking with emotion. ‘Am I supposed to remove myself to some emotion-free zone when I’ve just been told my daughter is dangerously ill?’

He could think of nothing to say.

‘Luca?’ she pressed.

Her use of his first name gave him a jolt, even though he knew it was merely a measure of her desperation. ‘We can only wait now,’ he said honestly.

Did he really think she was going to crumble? Nell wondered, holding Luca’s gaze. Maybe at one time in her life she might have broken down, but not now. The turning point had been Molly’s birth. She’d had something to fight for since then. She would keep this vigil with him, keep it and will Molly well again.

Nell forced herself to look at everything dispassionately, to listen and become accustomed to all the alien sights and sounds: the nebuliser humming, the launch’s engines throbbing, the muted Italian exchanges rising and falling expressively around her like a song.

‘Andiamo!’

Luca barked out his instruction as they turned into the wide stretch of water that formed the main thoroughfare through Venice. It jolted Nell back to reality, made it hard to cling to the little life-raft of calm she had formed in her mind. She clutched the seat, ready now as the launch tipped at an even steeper angle. But the momentum jerked her forward and she was only stopped from slipping off the seat by Luca’s whip-fast reactions.

‘Sit back as far as you can, or I’ll have to take her from you.’

His voice was as harsh as before. She had put too much store in the brief flash of kindness. Nell drew Molly closer. No one was going to take Molly from her. Her daughter was back where she belonged, where she was going to stay…

‘Don’t hold her so tightly.’

She loosened her grip immediately. She wanted to get it right for Molly.

‘If you must lean on something, lean on me.’

Lean on him? ‘I’d rather not.’

‘Just until you become used to the rhythm of the boat—’

‘I can manage, thank you!’ Nell shrank away, relieved when Luca seemed to have second thoughts and left her to have a word with the captain of the boat, but even his back view was unsettling.

Dr Luca Barbaro was a manifestation of everything Nell knew she had to fear. He was arrogant, with an iron resolve, along with an innate certainty that everything he did or said was right. She took in the wide shoulders blocking out the light, the legs aggressively planted on the deck to keep him steady…the hands she could only describe as fighting, strong hands, but with a doctor’s long, tapering fingers. Every square inch of the flesh she could see appeared to be tanned a uniform bronze. Luca Barbaro would have fit well in some medical drama played out on television—one where the lead doctor was improbable heartthrob material. She could only hope he possessed more qualifications than his Hollywood counterparts.

Nell tried to relax, tried to settle into the rhythm of the boat so that Molly would be comfortable. But her thoughts kept on colliding like skittles. How long before they reached the hospital? How long before they found a proper doctor? How long before someone told her what was wrong with Molly?

‘I’ll take her now.’

Had they arrived? Nell looked up and realised they had. As she started to get up Luca stopped her.

‘I’ll take her,’ he repeated. ‘She’ll be safer with me.’

Safer? How could a child be safer anywhere than in its mother’s arms? But there was such a tangle of wires and tubes hanging from Molly, Nell was terrified she might dislodge one of them.

Luca put his free hand on her shoulder and pressed her down. ‘I want you to wait for one of the men to help you disembark. I live and work in Venice, so I’m used to travelling at high speed on water. You might be a little unsteady on your feet.’

She had vowed not to let Molly out of her sight, but what if she stumbled and hurt her in some way—pulled out one of the tubes?

As she watched them go, Nell suffered a presentiment; the dark cloud enveloping her made her doubly impatient to disembark. ‘Look after her,’ she called.

Luca Barbaro didn’t look back as he walked swiftly away with Molly and one of the paramedics at his side, holding the drip.

The men on board the launch seemed to take so long securing the mooring ropes, though it could only have been a matter of seconds, Nell reasoned, telling herself to be calm. She had no option but to wait until they had finished in order to have Molly’s pushchair brought up from the hold. Meanwhile she followed Molly’s progress on shore. There was a nurse waiting for the new patient outside the hospital gates. Luca didn’t break stride as he drew level with the man; the only concession he made was to angle his head to accommodate the nurse’s shorter frame as they exchanged information, and then they disappeared through some gates.

She was like a hare out of the traps when one of the crew finally came to help. But Luca had been right, and she was glad of the man’s steadying hand as she left the launch. The swirling brown water looked far from inviting from this angle, and she couldn’t adjust to terra firma right away.

‘Piano, piano, signora,’ the man insisted, holding on to her.

Nell claimed the pushchair, called her thanks and was off. It was as if Molly had left a burning trail, which if she hurried she was sure she could follow.

‘Signora?’ A security guard stood in her way.

‘What do you want?’ Nell knew she sounded impatient, and her voice was shaking, but Molly’s trail was growing cold. ‘I’m with Dr Barbaro.’

The guard stood firm.

‘You have to let me go inside. Dr Barbaro has taken my daughter into the hospital.’ She mimed, pointing, hoping he understood. ‘You must have seen them? They were here just a minute ago. You have to let me pass!’

But the language barrier proved insurmountable. ‘Signora, per favore…’

‘No! You have to let me in!’ Her voice was desperate, and she tried to twist past him. But the security guard had seen it all and put his hand on the gate, stopping her.

‘Mi dispiace…’ Nell struggled to compose herself. ‘I’m sorry.’ She used her hands to make placating gestures while she racked her brain for some useful words. None would come. Her knowledge of Italian was so limited. She tried smiling—that always worked. ‘I don’t speak Italian, signor.’ It was so hard trying to appear normal, rational, calm—the type of person a security guard would happily allow inside his hospital. Impossible, in fact, when the world and everything in it was swirling in front of her eyes and the only image she could see clearly was Molly lying in Luca Barbaro’s arms. Molly attached to tubes and wires, Molly’s beautiful face half-hidden by a mask. Molly. ‘Per piacere, signore…’ Nell was nearly sobbing now.

‘Mi dispiace, signora.’ The guard shook his head.

‘You have to let me in!’ Nell tried brute force, her weight against his. ‘I have a little girl to go to!’

But she had no chance of getting through. As her shoulders slumped in defeat, the guard cupped her elbow and gently chivvied her along to the door of his stone-built security post, which was situated on the wrong side of the hospital gates. Leaving her for a moment, he stepped inside his lodge and locked the door.

It had finally happened. Her worst nightmare had come true. Luca had taken Molly—shut her out when Molly needed her most.

Nell started in alarm as a small wooden panel slid open in front of her face.

‘In primo luogo, signora, dove fare questo—’

‘I must do what?’ Nell gazed at the form in the security guard’s hand with foreboding. ‘Oh, no, signor…’

‘Si,’ he said firmly. ‘Per favore.’

A glance around the towering walls dividing her from Molly was all it took to convince Nell she had to comply. When he handed her the form she had to fill in Nell measured the sheets in one angry gesture. She had to fight for control. ‘Un—er—biro, signor, per piacere?’

‘Certo.’ With obvious relief he handed a pen over.

Nell raced through the form, interpreting it as best she could. Fortunately, forms the world over were much the same, and she did have some experience of filling them in, though she tried not to think about the last time she had done so. When she had finished the guard took them from her and checked each page meticulously.

‘Can I go now?’ It was like being back at school. Only she was older, and this wasn’t playtime.

‘Si, signora.’ The guard pulled back from the opening.

His manner had changed to reveal more consideration. But she didn’t want to dwell on the sympathy she could see in his eyes: she had to stay strong; she had to pay careful attention to his directions. She would forgive him anything if he would just hurry!

Nell abandoned the pushchair, and started to run.

The first corridor she came across was long and featureless. At the end she had two choices. Molly’s trail had vanished. Nell stared from left to right and back again. Then in answer to her prayer a door opened.

‘My daughter, mia figlia…trauma…?’ Nell tried everything she could think of as the nurse came towards her.

‘La piccola raggazina?’

‘Si!’

The nurse put a hand on her arm, which Nell shook off angrily. The nurse seemed to understand, though, and smiled reassurance. ‘This way, signora. Please, come with me.’

The nurse seemed so bright, so happy and confident. Nell told herself her manner had to be a sign that Molly must have recovered. She was even smiling expectantly as they walked through some swing doors into a treatment room. But the smell of antiseptic hit her, tossing her back into the nightmare of Jake’s accident, and the lights were so bright…

As Nell began to orientate herself she felt the nurse’s steadying hand creep beneath her arm.

Molly was lying propped up on a bank of pillows. Her tiny arms were like sticks at either side of her body, her tiny fists digging into the mattress as if she was struggling to hold herself even more erect in order to breathe. Was she awake? It was impossible to tell.

For the first time since this whole dreadful episode had started Nell found she was hoping Molly wasn’t. She didn’t want her to be awake while her fragile blue-veined chest was pumping frantically. She looked in agony, and the strain on her heart had to be enormous.

Slowly Nell’s focus expanded to take in the nurse standing at each corner of the bed. Luca was standing at the head of it, closest to Molly. He turned as if he had been expecting her.

‘There’s nothing more you can do?’ She guessed that much and then thought his lips looked dry. She noticed that he had to moisten them with his tongue before he could answer.

‘No.’

She waited, but that was all he said. Without waiting to be invited Nell went straight to Molly’s side. Kneeling on the floor, she took her daughter’s hand and pressed it to her cheek. Then the miracle she been hoping for happened. Opening her eyes, clutching at her throat, Molly turned her head.

‘Mumma,’ she gasped.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘NO! YOU can’t ask me to go there. I hate Venice! I’m never going back! Not even for the sake of the organisation…’

That was what she’d said to her committee, Nell remembered, yet here she was, speaking in Venice to introduce the hospital patients’ support charity she had founded almost ten years before. The cause she believed in so passionately was far more important than any personal considerations.

She’d had plenty of practice and was a seasoned public speaker, but even so she was nervous tonight. Nowhere made Nell quite so tense as Venice, with its stylish inhabitants and bitter memories. And although only one doctor was holding out against her scheme, he was influencing everyone else. He was Medical Director of his family’s hospital trust, the man the rest looked to for their lead—the man she had to convince if this hospital was to be the flagship to spread her scheme across Venice and then Italy, as they had planned. Nell was the scheme’s founder, the one who could persuade the obstinate Medical Director to get the ball rolling. So, here she was. Shaking.

The moment she had been told the name of the doctor she had to convince, a face had flashed into her head. She had tried to deny the possibility that it was the same man, telling herself that the Dr Barbaro she’d met would have moved on by now. Barbaro was a popular surname in Italy, and ‘her’ Luca Barbaro belonged to the past, along with Molly’s nightmarish and thankfully only truly serious asthma attack.

It had taken time to confirm. Asthma wasn’t easy to be sure of in a very young child. But he’d been sure, Nell remembered. Luca Barbaro had been sure of his diagnosis and had put her in touch with the very best specialist in the field, a man who would continue the investigations he had started when they returned home.

A lot of things had changed since then, Nell thought, viewing her face critically in the mirror. She’d known that if she wanted to win people over she had to inspire confidence. The first thing to go had been her spiky hair. She smiled as she started brushing out her shoulder-length bob. It was hard to believe she had once sported such a radical hairstyle and boho clothes.

She was especially glad to be wearing her confidence-inspiring uniform today. She needed it more than the audience! The crisp white shirt, dark business suit and low-heeled courts formed a suit of armour she could hide behind.

She wasn’t going to let the past—any part of it—interfere with the project that was so dear to her. But she knew at least some of the adrenaline racing through her veins was for the memory of the man who had stood so squarely against her in Venice. Enough time had passed for her to be able to separate Luca Barbaro the man from Luca Barbaro the doctor tending Molly—and the man had left a lasting impression.

Nell’s face lit up as her thoughts switched to her boisterous ten-year-old. Molly was here with her now in Venice. Some of Jake’s insurance money had been used to employ the very best nanny Nell could find, an older woman called Marianna, who travelled everywhere with them. The three of them lived a simple life, with no men to complicate the situation. Living without romance had proved easier than Nell had imagined. The most important thing was that Molly had consistency in her life. She would not risk some man breezing into their lives then breezing out again. She had better things to think about.

Nell sensed Molly’s approach before she even heard her daughter’s footsteps. Just as on every other day, she spared a moment to give thanks for Molly’s continued good health and by the time the door burst open, she was standing in front of it with her arms spread wide in invitation. As Molly flung herself into Nell’s embrace, it was hard to imagine that this was the child who had been taken so gravely ill the last time they had visited Venice.

She had Barbaro to thank for that, Nell reflected. And yes, perhaps she had been guilty of underestimating him at the time. But she had been so strung out, and had thought him too young to deal with such a critical situation. It was largely thanks to him Molly had recovered, that she was able to live a normal life and engage in every activity a child of her age was entitled to enjoy.

His parting letter to them had been brief but detailed and Nell could remember her surprise when she’d received it. She still resented the way he’d walked out on them both without a backward glance the instant Molly was moved into the children’s ward. They hadn’t seen him again, not once—his letter had been handed to her by a nurse. But she still kept a log of Molly’s symptoms as he had advised, and ensured Molly received careful monitoring under the supervision of the doctor Luca Barbaro had recommended.

Nell tried to blank her mind to the dark eyes haunting her thoughts. Luca Barbaro’s lack of human consideration still had the power to sting. But it was his arrogant manner together with the aftermath of Jake’s accident that had propelled her work forward, so it had done some good.

Hearing Molly chatting happily with Marianna now made Nell angry all over again on her daughter’s behalf. What kind of cold-hearted individual lost interest in his patient the moment the crisis was over? She had expected a few words at least for Molly, even perhaps some acknowledgement for herself—she wasn’t sure why or of what, just that she’d wanted something from him. But he’d simply handed them over to the care of his nursing team, written a brief letter and disappeared.

That was years ago. She was over it now, and having Molly with her in Venice had transformed the dreaded return into fun. No one was going to spoil that for them. As far as Nell was concerned they were laying the final ghost together. And now it was almost time for the meeting to start. She had to forget Barbaro and concentrate on that.

‘Ready?’

Nell smiled as Marianna asked the question. ‘As I’ll ever be. Come with me for luck, Molly?’

‘Can I sit in the audience when you go onto the platform?’

‘Of course. Marianna, could you stay with her?’ Nell was used to imposing her will these days, but never on a woman she considered to be almost a surrogate mother to them both.

‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ Marianna assured her.

The first few seconds of any talk were always the worst. After that Nell always settled into her stride. Today was different. Today, as she delivered her prepared talk, Nell was conscious of two things: Molly and Marianna creeping down the steps at the side of the platform to find a seat near the front…and a man standing at the back of the room in the shadows.

Nell felt him even before she saw him, and her heart raced in response. From that moment on, his presence was a nagging distraction. The lights had been dimmed to allow the audience’s attention to focus on the stage, but through some inner eyes she could sense his every movement—the regular movement of his chest as he drew breath, the muscle working in his jaw…She tried to tell herself that she was being ridiculous, but unless Luca Barbaro had a doppelgänger in Venice, there was no mistaking the arrant masculine figure.

It was her worst nightmare come true. It was also her moment of triumph, Nell told herself firmly. Each time one of her volunteers went into a hospital to speak up for anxious relatives, she thought of Luca Barbaro and the offhand way he had treated them—leaving her at the mercy of a security guard while Molly was taken away, refusing to give her any information about Molly’s condition…His lack of consideration was one of the prime drivers that had led her to expand the scheme—a fact she was sure he would be delighted to learn.

Firming her jaw, Nell continued with her speech. There would have to be a meeting with Barbaro at some point, she knew that, but she had thought it would be conducted somewhere different, somewhere private—a sterile office, neutral territory, where she would lay her case before him with the same lack of passion he had displayed the first time they met. But for this one evening this hall was her territory, and the man in the shadows was a hostile and unwanted intruder who had chosen not to sit with the rest of the audience, but to remain leaning against the door with his arms folded across his chest as if to signify the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere. And even with a roomful of people between them she could sense his animosity.

A frisson of alarm ran down Nell’s spine when he shifted position. He was even taller than she remembered, and the heat of his stare was drilling into her…

She had stopped talking, Nell realised; everyone was waiting for her to continue. With a quick smile of reassurance, she started to wind up her speech. She couldn’t afford to lose her concentration now that she was about to throw the meeting open to questions.

She had made sure that invitations had been delivered to every hospital and clinic in the area, not just the staff of this hospital in which she hoped to pilot the Venice scheme. The work of her volunteers depended upon the co-operation of the staff within each establishment…and that meant every single member of staff. Nell glanced again at the figure in the shadows, wondering what it would take to get Luca Barbaro on her side.

She listened carefully to each question, judging the mood of the audience before she spoke. She had less to do at the sharp end these days than she would have liked, but she was a good speaker, and her role was to spread the scheme, recruit and train. It was up to her to convince the audience that the successful record of her project was something they wanted to buy into.

For about a quarter of an hour things went really well. Nell was using an interpreter and the discussion so far had been good-humoured. It augured well for her pilot scheme. She was relieved to have found an answer to every question…relieved that the man in the shadows seemed to have disappeared.

‘Will you personally set up your project?’

Every fibre in her body tensed. The voice, speaking English, was unmistakable.

‘Yes.’ Nell took a moment before saying anything more. Her breathing had turned instantly ragged, and she knew that her voice would be trembling when she spoke again if she didn’t pull herself together. The last thing she wanted was for Luca Barbaro to know how badly he affected her.

‘That’s right, I will be staying in Venice while we test the pilot scheme.’ She spoke firmly, scanning the room. But he had moved. The lights had been turned up for the questions, but she couldn’t spot him. ‘I always remain on call during the start-up period.’

The interpreter began to translate, which gave Nell the chance to search for Luca.

‘So you’re going to be working in the hospital, supervising the scheme?’

Nell ground her jaw. Why couldn’t she see him? ‘No, I’ll be off site. My job is to train—’

‘And to pass on your dislike and mistrust of the medical profession?’

Nell froze. She wasn’t alone in that. Quite a few members of the audience had no trouble understanding English and she could hear a low rumble of surprise. When the interpreter translated Luca’s words into Italian the rumble grew.

Everyone was waiting to see what she had to say in reply. She kept it light and friendly, even faintly indulgent, hoping to make it seem that she was dealing with an honest mistake, rather than a troublemaker. ‘I’m sorry, but you’re wrong, Dr…’ She waited for Luca to supply his name—to come out of the shadows and face her like a man.

He chose not to.

Resting her hands lightly on the podium, Nell smiled ruefully at her audience. ‘I couldn’t do the work I do if I held those views, could I?’

‘Really?’ he demanded, and she saw him.

Luca Barbaro had moved into the centre aisle at the front of the stage in full view of everyone. ‘I’d like to know how you expect to foster good relations between medical professionals and your organisation,’ he went on, ‘when you are so clearly suspicious and biased against—’

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