‘I was devastated,’ Hannah admitted.

‘I told myself how ridiculous I was being. It had only been one night, after all, but it was so hard to put it into perspective.’

Jack nodded. ‘I felt the same. I couldn’t forget. I thought I’d got past it, but then I saw you again and it all came back as though it was yesterday. And then I learned you had a daughter, and I assumed you had found someone else and got married.’

‘Assumptions,’ Hannah murmured. ‘Dangerous things.’

‘I wasn’t completely wrong, though, was I? There was someone else.’

‘There was only Olivia’s father,’ Hannah said.

Jack held her gaze and Hannah was engulfed by his compassion. Had he forgiven her for not telling him about Olivia?

‘Do you want me to tell you who Olivia’s father is?’

‘No,’ he said very softly. ‘I don’t think you need to tell me that, do you?’

Alison Roberts lives in Christchurch, New Zealand. She began her working career as a primary school teacher, but now juggles available working hours between writing and active duty as an ambulance officer. Throwing in a large dose of parenting, housework, gardening and pet-minding keeps life busy, and teenage daughter Becky is responsible for an increasing number of days spent on equestrian pursuits. Finding time for everything can be a challenge, but the rewards make the effort more than worthwhile.

Recent titles by the same author:

A COURAGEOUS DOCTOR

CONSULTANT IN CRISIS

(City Search and Rescue Book 1)

THE NURSE’S RESCUE

(City Search and Rescue Book 2)

DOCTOR AT RISK

(City Search and Rescue Book 3)

THE SURGEON’S CHILD

The Doctor’s Secret Family

Alison Roberts

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER ONE

IT JUST wouldn’t go away.

The nasty prickle of premonition had been stalking senior paediatric registrar Hannah Campbell ever since she had first woken that morning, and she had been unable to shake it off despite a busy few hours on ward duty. At least now Hannah thought she had identified its origin.

‘I have a horrible feeling I’m not going to get it.’

‘Of course you will.’ Junior registrar William Price sounded surprised. ‘I wish I had a fraction of your skill in getting IV access in kids.’

Hannah glanced up from the tiny hand she was holding, bent over to stretch the skin between wrist and knuckles in the hope of revealing the exact whereabouts of a vein. ‘I’m not talking about IV access, Will. I’m talking about the job.’

‘Ah…’ William rearranged his hold on the infant lying on the treatment bed. ‘It’s OK, Jamie,’ he said soothingly. ‘It’ll all be over in a minute or two.’ He turned his gaze back to his senior colleague. ‘They’ve closed the applications for the consultancy position now, haven’t they?’

‘Yeah.’ Hannah was using an alcohol wipe in a circular motion to clean Jamie’s hand and hopefully stimulate a tiny vein into making an appearance. ‘They closed yesterday.’ Which had to be why this feeling of premonition had started first thing this morning. The countdown to the interviews was on.

‘Do you know how many applicants there were?’

‘Not exactly. But I do know that one of them is from a guy in Auckland who is already a consultant and has years more experience than me. He wants to get out of the rat race up there and move his family to Christchurch.’

‘You have the advantage of being known. How long have you worked here now?’

‘I was a junior registrar here nearly six years ago. I had a year off before I got the senior registrar position. That was three and a half years ago now.’

‘You had the year off because of Olivia?’

‘Mmm.’ Hannah had selected the finest gauge of cannula available. ‘Sorry about this, sweetie,’ she murmured as she pierced the skin on Jamie’s hand.

The eleven-month-old boy’s grizzles increased in volume and William had to hold his arm more firmly to prevent any movement. The child’s mother had elected not to watch the procedure so the two young doctors were alone in the treatment room of Christchurch Central Hospital’s paediatric ward.

‘I wouldn’t worry about it.’ William’s reassuring tone was intended to benefit the baby as much as Hannah. ‘Peter thinks you’re marvellous and as head of department he’ll have significant input into deciding who gets the job.’

‘I hope so.’ The worry wasn’t going to evaporate easily, however. Hannah wanted this position she had waited a long time to apply for. She wanted it badly.

She also wanted to find IV access in this severely dehydrated infant. IV fluid resuscitation was urgent and she wasn’t going to allow any niggling personal fears to interfere with her performance. She should also be using this opportunity to help consolidate William’s skills, not discuss her future employment options.

‘What percentage dehydration would you estimate Jamie to have?’ Hannah was advancing the fine needle in a new direction now. Anatomically, there had to be a vein somewhere close.

‘His skin’s a bit mottled and the capillary return isn’t great,’ William answered promptly. ‘His fontanelle and eyes are markedly sunken but his level of consciousness isn’t too depressed. I’d say about seven per cent.’

Hannah nodded. She drew the needle back towards the surface of the skin and a tiny spot of red appeared in the flashback chamber of the cannula mechanism.

‘Got you,’ she said in satisfaction. ‘Keep him really still for a second, Will.’ Dropping the angle of the needle and advancing it just fractionally, Hannah held her breath as she pushed the plastic cannula off the end of the needle. A smooth entry indicated effective placement and Hannah unsnapped the tourniquet fastening before swiftly removing the introducing needle and attaching a syringe to the end of the cannula.

‘What tests are you going to order on these bloods, Will?’

‘CBC and differential. Urea, creatinine, sodium and potassium levels.’

‘What’s the most likely cause for the gastroenteritis?’

‘Rotavirus.’

‘And how are we going to treat it?’

‘Initial fluid resuscitation with normal saline at 20 mil per kilogram. Then 10 mil per kilogram per hour until we get the serum electrolyte results. We’ll adjust the solution depending on sodium levels after that.’

‘Cool.’ Hannah attached the giving set leading to the bag of IV fluid already set up on the drip stand. She taped the line to Jamie’s arm and then protected the IV cannulation site with a thick layer of crêpe bandaging. When finally satisfied that the fluids were running well, Hannah relaxed and scooped the baby from the table into her arms.

‘There you go, darling,’ she murmured. ‘All done. Let’s get you back to Mummy for a cuddle.’

William grinned. ‘You must be one heck of a substitute. That’s the closest to being happy I’ve seen him look since he arrived. What is it with you and babies?’

Hannah kissed the top of the downy head. ‘I’m just the maternal type, I guess. There’s got to be some reward for the awful things we need to do to the poor wee mites sometimes.’

‘Mind you don’t take a dose of rotavirus home to Olivia.’

‘I’ve been taking things home since she was even younger than Jamie. I reckon we’ve both got fantastic immune systems by now. Livvy never gets sick.’

Hannah’s pager sounded as they walked back to Jamie’s room. ‘I’ll leave you to get those bloods away and chase up the results, Will. Keep a close eye on things. If Jamie’s condition deteriorates any further, we’ll need to transfer him to Intensive Care.’

There was a phone on the wall just outside the room Jamie would share with his mother for the next day or two. William emerged just as Hannah finished taking the call her pager message had requested.

‘You don’t look very happy,’ he commented. ‘What’s up?’

‘I have to get up to Theatre. A woman who’s thirty-five weeks pregnant has just come in with a placental separation following an MVA. They’re rushing her up for an emergency Caesar and it seems I’m the most senior paediatrician available at the moment.’ Hannah was already moving swiftly towards the lifts at the end of the wide corridor. Maybe the cause of that premonition had been some instinct that she might be faced with a particularly challenging case. Thanks to Hannah’s determination to excel in everything she did in the run-up to the decision on appointing the department’s new consultant she had a new pressure and a whole new set of nerves to contend with.

‘You’ll be fine.’ William’s confident words floated through the closing lift doors. ‘Peter will be proud of you, you’ll see.’

* * *

Consultant Peter Smiley was living up to his name when he sat down at the table in the cafeteria Hannah was occupying nearly two hours later. It was far too late to be considered part of any normal lunch-break and the huge room was largely deserted.

‘I’ve been hearing great things about you, Dr Campbell.’

Hannah grinned. If that emergency case had been responsible for the nameless fear stalking her earlier then she had managed to prove her instinct very wrong. Her grin faded as she shook her head.

‘I have to admit I was pretty nervous when I got to Theatre. I had no idea how long the baby might have been hypoxic for. I had the feeling that even if the resuscitation was successful the parents might not thank me for it.’ Hannah bit her lip. ‘What are the precise criteria for deciding not to take an aggressive approach? Have you ever done a resus and left parents to cope with bringing up a badly handicapped child, Pete?’

‘It happens.’ Peter nodded. ‘But there are no hard and fast rules. Even when you get a baby born at the limits of viability, like twenty-two to twenty-four weeks’ gestation, it’s tricky. You have to look at the weight and degree of bruising, along with the baby’s condition at birth, the presence or absence of a heartbeat and any efforts to breathe.’

Hannah nodded. ‘This one had an Apgar score of zero initially. White, flaccid, undetectable heartbeat and no spontaneous breathing.’

‘What gestation?’

‘Thirty-five weeks.’

‘How badly injured was the mother?’

‘She had a fractured tib-fib and seat-belt bruising. It was probably the position of the seat belt that caused the placental separation. She’d begun bleeding heavily by the time she reached the emergency department. They did a quick ultrasound and got her straight up to Theatre. The baby was delivered within thirty minutes of her arrival, which was pretty amazing.’

‘I’ll say. They must have had a theatre ready to go.’

‘They were setting up an elective Caesar. The patient had had her epidural and was on the way. I bet she wasn’t too happy about being sent back to the ward for another couple of hours.’

‘No.’ Peter sat back in his chair, his gaze curious. ‘So, what did you do with this flaccid baby?’

‘Put her under the lights and used gentle suction to clear the upper airway. Inflating her lungs with the bag mask initiated a gasp but no spontaneous breathing so I intubated.’

Peter raised his eyebrows. Intubation of a newborn required considerable skill. Clumsy insertion of the tube could damage the upper airways, and over-vigorous inflation could damage the lungs. ‘Any problems?’

‘No. I ventilated at a rate of thirty per minute with a nice gentle pressure but she still didn’t pink up. Heart rate was less than sixty per minute so then I started cardiac massage.’ Hannah’s smile was a little grim. She had thought she was fighting a losing battle at that point. She had encircled the baby’s chest with both hands, positioning her thumbs to exert pressure on the lower half of the tiny sternum and directing the nurse assisting her to deliver one inflation of the lungs to every three to five compressions.

‘Did you need any adrenaline?’

‘I had it drawn up as I cannulated the umbilical vein but then things started to improve.’ Hannah’s smile was much brighter now. ‘The Apgar score at five minutes was 7. She had facial grimaces, gasping respiration, heart rate greater than a hundred, some flexion and she was finally pink!’

Peter smiled at Hannah’s obvious pleasure. ‘Pretty satisfying, then?’

‘You bet. Apgar was 9 at ten minutes. I still wasn’t happy enough with her muscle tone to give her a ten but I’m pretty confident she’ll be OK. It’s hard to know, though, isn’t it?’ Hannah’s brow furrowed. ‘She could have been without oxygen for long enough to have permanent repercussions.’

‘Some people put all sorts of things down to a mild hypoxic insult—anything from hyperactivity to learning problems. But there’s not much in the way of good evidence. Babies can recover remarkably well from what seems like a dire start to life. We’ll keep an eye on this one for the next few days for any sign of neurological compromise but I doubt we’ll find anything. You sound like you managed a difficult case extremely well, Hannah. Well done.’ The consultant’s face creased into a familiar expression of approval. ‘I’m proud of you.’

‘Thanks.’ Hannah returned the fond smile. ‘If I’m good at what I do a lot of credit needs to go to you, you know.’

‘It’s always been a pleasure to work with you, Hannah. A pleasure that I hope will continue for a long time.’

‘So do I.’ Hannah toyed with her almost empty cup of coffee. ‘I’m going to be biting my nails waiting for this consultancy to be decided.’

‘You really want this job, don’t you?’

‘It’s exactly what I want, Pete.’

‘But it’s only a seven-tenths position and you don’t want to do any private practice, do you?’

‘Will that make a difference?’ Hannah asked anxiously. ‘Do you really need someone else in your practice?’

‘I will eventually. I’m not getting any younger, in case you hadn’t noticed.’

Peter was nearly sixty years old but Hannah grinned. ‘I hadn’t. You’ll need to develop some more crinkles, as Livvy calls them.’

‘I’ve got plenty of ‘‘crinkles’’.’ Peter’s face brightened. ‘How is Livvy?’

‘She’s great. She can write her own name now. She drew the most amazing picture yesterday and signed it for me. I think I’ll get it framed.’

‘What’s it a picture of?’

‘Joseph.’

‘That’s your…donkey, yes?’’

Hannah laughed. ‘That’s the one.’

‘It’s a bit difficult remembering all the names of your pets. Every one of those hens has a name, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes. And the goat and cats. We’d love to get a puppy some time as well.’

‘How on earth do you look after them all?’

‘It’s not difficult. And if I get this consultancy I’ll have a bit more time at home so maybe we could think about getting a dog.’

‘Is that why you’re so keen?’

‘Of course not. Having more time with Livvy is the main appeal. On a consultant’s salary I would be paid as much for seven-tenths as I am for this registrar position, which feels like twelve-tenths a lot of the time. Plus I’d be able to stay in Christchurch on a permanent basis. Neither Livvy nor I want to leave our property. I’ve spent years turning that old house into something worth living in and I’d hate to move. We’d never find land so close to town that we could afford now either. The prices for lifestyle blocks have gone through the roof in the last few years.’

‘So the department doesn’t really rate, then?’

‘Come off it, Pete.’ Hannah’s admonishing tone was negated by the smile she bestowed on her boss. ‘You’ve been far more than a boss, or even a colleague, to me and you know it. I might never have come back after having Livvy if it hadn’t been for your encouragement, and thanks to you, the paediatric department of Christchurch Central is probably more sought after as a place to work in than anywhere else in this country.’ She sighed. ‘That’s the problem. I’m going to be up against some pretty stiff competition for this position, aren’t I?’

‘I wouldn’t worry too much about that. I was just discussing you with Tom Berry, in fact.’

‘Oh?’ Tom Berry was one of the paediatric surgeons at Central. He would also be on the committee that would decide the position. Hannah widened her eyes anxiously but Peter simply grinned.

‘He had very nice things to say about you.’ Peter glanced at his watch. ‘And that reminds me. I was supposed to be in Tom’s office ten minutes ago for an afternoon tea to welcome their new appointee.’ He stood up hurriedly. ‘I’ll have to disappear. Sorry, Hannah.’

‘That’s OK.’ Hannah followed his example and rose, collecting her empty plate and cup. ‘I’m due back in the ward for an admission anyway.’

Her resigned expression made Peter smile. ‘Anyone I know?’

‘Jadine Milton,’ Hannah replied. ‘She looks set to become our latest frequent flyer.’

‘Abdominal pain again?’

‘Yep. And I’ve ruled out every obscure medical cause I can think of over the last three admissions.’

‘Crohn’s disease? Constipation? Lead poisoning?’ Peter was walking with Hannah as she left the cafeteria.

‘And intussusception, intestinal obstruction, appendicitis, pyelonephritis and pancreatitis.’

‘Diabetes?’

‘Blood sugars are normal. I’m sure there’s no organic cause. We even did an endoscopy last time to rule out peptic ulcers.’

‘Munchausen’s?’

‘It’s starting to look like that. Or Munchausen’s by proxy. The mother’s got a few problems.’

‘Who initiated today’s admission?’

‘The GP. I suspect she’s fed up.’

Peter turned off as they reached the lifts near the gift shop in the main foyer. ‘Get some input from Psych this time. And maybe Social Services.’

Hannah nodded wearily. ‘I’ll see if I can have a good talk to the mother myself as well.’ She headed for the stairs unsurprised that that vague feeling of premonition had returned. This was another challenging case but behavioural and social problems were veering away from any field of expertise Hannah had and it was hard to stay uninvolved when she liked her patient. Six-year-old Jadine was not unlike her own daughter to look at, with her blond curls and big, brown eyes. Her single mother was also struggling with the kinds of issues Hannah had dealt with herself. The case would be time-consuming, however, and there were a lot of loose ends on the ward that Hannah would need to deal with before she could leave for the day. She almost welcomed that familiar tension that came with the conflict between wanting to get home to Livvy and needing to do her job as best she could. She was used to coping with this and it was preferable to that formless fear still clouding her day.

* * *

Jadine Milton lay on a bed in Room 4, next door to where young Jamie was receiving IV fluids to correct his dehydration. The small girl’s face was pale but Hannah suspected this was quite a normal colour for her. Clutching a Barbie doll, Jadine was shaking her head vigorously as Hannah entered the room.

‘I don’t want a drink, Mummy. I hate water!’

‘Water’s good for you. You drink far too much cola. It’s probably got something to do with all these tummyaches you’re getting.’

‘Hi, there, pumpkin.’ Hannah smiled at her patient. ‘Fancy seeing you in here again.’

‘I’m so sorry about this.’ Jadine’s mother, Caroline Briggs, sighed theatrically. ‘I felt embarrassed enough turning up at the medical centre yet again. It’s even worse to have to come back into hospital. I know how busy you are and—’

‘It’s not a problem,’ Hannah interrupted. ‘What’s important is making sure that Jadine is fine.’

‘You haven’t found anything wrong with her the last three times she’s been in. You must be starting to think we just make a fuss about nothing.’

Hannah hoped her smile was reassuring. She could see the anxiety in Jadine’s face. No matter what the cause of the recurrent abdominal pain, a six-year-old child couldn’t be held responsible for any wastage of time and resources.

‘So your tummy’s sore again, Jadine?’

The little girl nodded.

‘Does it feel just the same as last time?’

She nodded again.

‘When did it start?’

‘It’s never really gone away completely,’ her mother answered. ‘She seems to get better and then it comes back again a few days later. It’s been going on for weeks.’

Hannah nodded. The first admission had been six weeks ago now. ‘Is there any pattern to it?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Is it more likely to happen, say, on a Monday? Or a weekend?’

‘I don’t know. She’s been missing an awful lot of school, though.’

‘Do you like school, Jadine?’

Jadine nodded again. ‘My friend Georgie and me play Barbies at lunchtime.’

It was not the kind of response she would have expected from a child who might be experiencing problems like bullying at school. Hannah glanced up at Caroline.

‘Have you noticed anything that seems to make any difference?’

‘Like what?’

‘Changes in her diet, maybe?’

‘The only real change she gets is when she goes to stay with my mum.’ Caroline sighed. ‘For some reason she’ll always eat her veggies when she’s staying with Grandma. She never does it at home.’

‘Don’t you like veggies, Jadine?’

‘I like Grandma’s veggies.’

‘I cook them exactly the same way,’ Caroline protested.

‘They don’t taste the same. And you don’t make pudding. I have to eat veggies for Gran or I don’t get the pudding.’

‘I don’t have time to make puddings. And, anyway, they’re not good for you.’

‘Gran’s puddings are good for me. They make my tummy stop being sore.’

Hannah stayed silent, observing the undercurrent between mother and daughter. The significance of another family member being involved was not something she had thought of pursuing in this case but there was clearly something going on here that could be important. She made a mental note to follow it up.

‘Have you been back to your GP before today?’

‘We’ve been at the medical centre every other day. They’re getting sick of seeing us turn up and it’s costing me a fortune.’

Hannah smiled sympathetically. The referral note from the GP had suggested that Jadine’s mother needed more reassurance than they were able to supply. ‘Is she eating all right?’

‘She’ll eat anything that looks like a hamburger or chips. Her appetite seems to vanish in front of a plate of vegetables, though.’ Caroline sighed again. ‘I do try.’

Hannah smiled as she sat on the edge of the bed close to Jadine. ‘My little girl likes chips, too.’ She leaned forward. ‘She’s got a Barbie doll as well, only she left hers in the water trough out in our paddock the other day and now Barbie keeps leaking.’

Jadine stared at Hannah. ‘What’s a troff?’

‘A big drinking bowl. Like cows or horses need.’

‘Have you got a cow?’

‘No. I haven’t got a horse either, but I do have a donkey.’

‘What’s its name?’

‘Joseph.’

Caroline was also staring at Hannah. ‘Why do you have a donkey?’

Hannah laughed. ‘Just for a pet. I’d always wanted one.’

‘Why?’

‘They’re lovely animals. Very gentle and friendly and they’re kind of peaceful to be around.’

‘Really?’ Caroline still looked unconvinced. ‘I thought they made a horrible noise.’

‘Joseph is very quiet. Except for when he sees us coming and wants to say hello.’ Hannah pulled her stethoscope from its position around her neck. Chatting with her patient might make for a relaxing atmosphere but it was time she got on with her job.

‘Can I have a look at you now, Jadine? I need to check all those things like your blood pressure and temperature and heart and then I’ll need to feel your tummy.’

Jadine’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Do I have to have a needle again?’

Her mother grabbed a tissue from the box on the locker and was ready to mop her daughter’s face. ‘You’ve got to be brave, Jadie. Dr Hannah’s here to make you better.’

‘You don’t have to have a blood test right now,’ Hannah said soothingly. ‘And if you need one later we’ll make sure we put that special cream on your skin to make it go all numb so it doesn’t hurt.’

Hannah went through the motions of a full physical examination. Consciously trying not to allow any bias towards a psychosomatic cause for the abdominal pain probably made her examination even more thorough than normal. As the commonest acute surgical emergency of childhood and usually seen in children over five years of age, appendicitis was still at the forefront of possible diagnoses but, as with the previous three admissions, there was no associated low-grade fever and no history of vomiting or anorexia. Whilst Jadine seemed to have genuine discomfort on palpation, Hannah could find no ‘guarding’, where the muscles became protectively rigid, when she pressed on the lower right quadrant of the abdomen.

‘Bowel habits normal?’ she queried.

‘Absolutely.’ Jadine’s mother nodded. ‘Colour and everything’s just the same as usual. I always check.’

Hannah hid her surprise. She might not have blinked if an infant’s mother knew more about her baby’s bowel habits than her own but it was a little unusual for a six-year-old not to be demanding some privacy in the toilet. Her own daughter was four and a half now. She might not bother to shut the door and she sometimes forgot to flush but she had been independent as far as toileting went for some time now.

‘Has Jadine had any bugs recently? Coughs or colds?’ An upper respiratory tract infection could cause inflammation of the mesenteric lymph nodes leading to nonspecific abdominal pain but Jadine’s lungs sounded as clear as bells, which fitted with Caroline’s denial of any viral illnesses.

‘You don’t have a family history of migraine, do you, Caroline?’

‘You asked me that last time. I get headaches.’ Caroline’s huff was resigned. ‘Usually when the bills are due to be paid. Wouldn’t call them migraines, though.’

Hannah nodded. Children who went on to have classical migraines commonly presented with recurrent episodes of prolonged abdominal pain but they usually had nausea or other symptoms accompanying the discomfort. As Caroline had pointed out, she was covering the same ground she had been over before.

‘We’ll need to get a urine sample again.’ She smiled at Jadine. ‘Do you remember that test, sweetie? The nurse takes you to the toilet and gives you a wash and you have to wee into the little jar. You don’t mind doing that again for us, do you?’

Jadine shook her head.

‘Good girl. That way we can do another check to make sure there’s no bugs hiding in your waterworks that might be making your tummy sore.’ And it might give Hannah a chance to have a talk to Jadine’s mother privately. ‘You tell me when you think you might be ready to go to the toilet.’

‘I want to go now.’

‘Do you? That’s great.’ Hannah stood up. ‘I’ll call Nina to come and look after you. She’s your nurse today, isn’t she?’

Jadine smiled. ‘Nina’s nice. She likes Barbies.’

‘She looks a bit like Barbie, doesn’t she, with that pretty blond hair?’ Hannah smiled. ‘It’s just like yours, isn’t it?’

Jadine returned the smile happily, which only reinforced Hannah’s impression that there was nothing seriously wrong with this child. ‘I’m going to take Mum off for a cup of tea while Nina’s looking after you,’ she told Jadine. ‘Is that OK?’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Caroline said. ‘I’d love a cup of tea.’ She eyed the notes Hannah was carrying anxiously, however, as the two women took their tea into Hannah’s office a few minutes later. ‘You’ve found something wrong with her, haven’t you? Something you didn’t want to talk about in front of Jadie.’

‘Not at all,’ Hannah said promptly. ‘It was time I had a break and I’m sure you could use one. It’s pretty stressful having your child unwell.’

Caroline sat down on the spare chair in the office. ‘How old is your daughter?’

‘Four and a half.’

‘Ah…nice age.’ Caroline’s smile was poignant. ‘Make the most of it.’ She caught Hannah’s glance. ‘It won’t be long till she starts school,’ she added. ‘And that’s when you really lose your baby.’

‘It’s a big milestone,’ Hannah agreed. ‘But we’re both looking forward to it.’

‘Are you?’ Caroline sounded surprised. ‘I cried for days. It wasn’t until I started being a mother help at school every day that things started to get better.’

‘Oh?’ The sound was intended to be encouraging but a warning bell was going off for Hannah. Just how deeply centred on her child was Caroline Briggs’s life? Munchausen syndrome by proxy was an unusual and bizarre form of child abuse that could possibly be triggered by a parent’s need for some form of attention. Was Jadine Caroline’s primary source of relationships with others?

Given Caroline’s concern about a prolonged and unexplained illness in her child, the syndrome needed consideration. And hadn’t Jadine said her symptoms disappeared when she stayed with her grandmother? It was highly unlikely that she was being cured by some magic ingredients in the puddings. Hannah would need to seek assistance from other medical professionals, as Peter had suggested. A conversation with the grandmother was probably overdue as well but now seemed like a good opportunity to gather some more background history.

‘Tell me about Jadine when she was a baby,’ Hannah invited. ‘Did everything go well with your pregnancy and her birth?’

‘Depends what you mean by ‘‘well’’,’ Caroline said heavily. ‘Getting pregnant was an accident, you know. I was only eighteen.’

Hannah nodded sympathetically. She had been twenty-eight and old enough to have known better, but she had learned the hard way about accidental pregnancies herself.

‘Dave, my boyfriend, wanted me to have an abortion but it was too late by then and, anyway, I didn’t want one.’

Hannah nodded again. It was an issue that had to be confronted by virtually every woman with an unplanned pregnancy but it had never rated more than a dismissive thought from herself. Maybe it had been easier being the only person involved in the decision-making process.

‘And I really wanted to marry Dave. I thought the baby would keep us together.’

Maybe the pregnancy hadn’t been so accidental in Caroline’s case. Hannah couldn’t imagine wanting to marry the father of her child. In the weeks before she had discovered she was pregnant, she had been more than happy with the thought that she would never have to see or speak to him again.

‘I never did well at school,’ Caroline continued. ‘Dropped out when I was fifteen. I knew I could be a good mum, though. It was all I ever really wanted to be.’

Hannah was silent. If feelings of self-worth came only from motherhood then a child starting school and beginning to move towards independence could present a problem. Not one that Hannah had ever had to face, however. She had worked hard at school and done exceptionally well. Her dream of going to medical school and becoming a doctor had been too much a part of her to be anything but temporarily superseded by becoming a parent. Not that Livvy wasn’t just as important in her life as her career but they represented totally different parts of who she was. And it didn’t make her a bad mother. Hannah knew she did both her ‘jobs’ well.

‘It worked for a while,’ Caroline sighed, ‘but he walked out on us when Jadie was two.’

‘That must have been tough.’

‘Yeah.’ The tone was bitter. ‘If it hadn’t been for my mum, I wouldn’t have survived.’

‘You were lucky to have her, then.’ Hannah had had no family to help her. She had had to cope on her own. Emotionally, financially, physically. It hadn’t been easy but it had made her strong and in retrospect Hannah was glad it had been that way. She could handle whatever life chose to throw at her now, which was why the odd feeling that there was something looming to be afraid of was so disconcerting. She had been through so much— what could happen that would be worse?

She tuned out the sound of Caroline’s voice listing the various crises with unpaid bills and the usual medical woes involved in raising a child as the horrible thought struck. Had she been tempting fate telling William about her daughter’s fantastic immune system? Or boasting that she never got sick? Livvy could get sick. Really sick. That would be the worst thing that could happen. A need to see her child and reassure herself followed hot on the heels of acknowledging that fear, and Hannah stole a glance at her watch. At this rate it might be hours before she could leave to collect her daughter.

‘I did most of it by myself.’ Caroline sounded defensive now. ‘I’m a good mother. I never put Jadie in child care. I did everything for her. I still do.’

Hannah simply nodded again. She wasn’t going to allow her own guilt buttons regarding child care to be pushed. She’d never been lucky enough to have a choice. Not with the kind of debt that medical training had left her with. She focused on Caroline as she finished her cup of tea. There were enough clues to make Hannah believe that a psychiatric evaluation of Jadine’s family circumstances would be worthwhile.

‘Jadine should be back in her room by now.’ Hannah stood up to signal an end to the conversation. ‘Will you be staying in with her tonight?’

‘I can’t.’

Hannah couldn’t help looking surprised. During the previous three admissions, it had been an uphill battle to persuade Caroline to even take an extended break from being with her daughter.

‘I’ve got a…date,’ Caroline confessed as she followed Hannah from the office. ‘He lives in Wellington and doesn’t get down this way very often. I’ll be back first thing in the morning, though.’

‘That’s fine,’ Hannah said calmly. ‘We’ll take good care of Jadine.’

She tucked the additional snippet of information away. So Caroline’s attention was being diverted to some extent away from her daughter. Munchausen’s was still a possibility but maybe it wasn’t by proxy. Perhaps Jadine was trying to find a way of dealing with the competition or a perceived rejection by her mother. Hannah’s query as the two women neared Room 4 was deliberately casual.

‘Does Jadine’s father still see her at all?’

‘No.’ The response was vehement. ‘And I intend to keep it that way, thanks.’

Hannah was quite grateful for an interruption from William, which precluded digging any further into the new can of worms she had opened regarding Jadine Milton’s family problems. He waited until Caroline had gone through the door of Room 4.

‘I’ve got Jamie’s serum electrolyte results. Sodium’s well above 150 mmol per litre so he’s hypernatraemic.’

‘Have you adjusted the IV solution?’

‘I’ve started 0.2 normal saline in 4.3 per cent glucose.’

‘Plus KCl?’

William nodded. ‘Thirty to 40 mmol per litre.’

‘Good. Restrict fluid to 150 mmol per kilo for the first twenty-four hours. We need to aim for total correction over about forty-eight hours. How’s he looking?’

‘A lot better.’

‘That’s good.’ Hannah was eyeing her open office door and thinking of the phone on her desk. A quick call to the Maysfield Child Care Centre to set her own mind at rest would make her feel a lot better. ‘Anything else going on that I should know about?’

‘No. Things are pretty quiet generally. About time you headed home, isn’t it?’

‘I won’t argue with that.’ It was only 4 p.m. but Hannah always started at 7.30 a.m. so she could leave before 5 when she wasn’t on call and get a few hours with Livvy before bedtime. She could take her paperwork home with her. It might take a while to find an appropriate way to document her suspicions about Jadine Milton, and a quiet hour late this evening would be a lot easier than trying to do it here, with the inevitable interruptions that would occur.

It would also mean she didn’t have to appear overanxious by ringing the child care centre with no reason other than to enquire whether her daughter looked healthy. She would find out soon enough for herself. Prompted by her desire to get away, Hannah hurriedly bundled up the paperwork she needed from her desk, stuffing it into her briefcase as she headed briskly for the door. She hadn’t quite secured her armload as she entered the corridor and turned to pull her door shut. Her movements were still swift. Far too swift to prevent a near collision as she swung around again to move towards the exit.

‘Whoops!’ Peter Smiley’s tone commiserated for the fact that Hannah’s paperwork was now strewn all over the floor but Hannah couldn’t have cared less about the mishap. She hadn’t even seen the shower of paper. She was too stunned to move her gaze away from the man standing beside Peter.

‘I was just coming to find you,’ Peter said cheerfully. ‘We’re doing the tour.’ Anything odd about Hannah’s expression was apparently being dismissed as embarrassment due to a clumsy moment. ‘This is our new consultant surgeon for Paediatrics, Hannah…Jack Douglas.’

Suddenly Hannah knew that her premonition had had nothing to do with her job application. Or any challenging case. Or her daughter’s state of health.

She had been right to trust her instincts because the premonition of disaster had been spot on.

The disaster was standing right in front of her. As large as life. And its mouth was moving. A rich, deep rumble of words sent reinforcements to enhance the paralysing visual effects Hannah was still experiencing.

‘Hello, Hannah,’ Jack Douglas said. ‘This is a bit of a surprise, isn’t it?’

CHAPTER TWO

IT WASN’T a surprise.

A surprise, in Hannah’s book, carried the connotations of something pleasant. An unexpected bonus. A small gift, perhaps. Or discovering the first daffodil in bloom beneath the huge old copper beech tree, as she and Livvy had done only yesterday. Or even finding that a young patient was doing better than expected on a chosen course of treatment.

It certainly wasn’t being faced with a man Hannah had had no expectations of ever seeing again. A man who had no knowledge of the very real and solid connection he had with her life. A man who had the potential to cause untold damage if he learned about that connection now. This was no surprise. It was a shock. A stunning blow that was now causing a horrible crawling sensation through Hannah’s limbs as its paralysing effects wore off. It took only another split second to realise she was in command of her facial features again and Hannah hoped that the cool smile she summoned would cover up her initial response to this encounter.

‘It certainly is a surprise,’ she murmured. ‘How are you, Jack?’

‘Surprised.’ Dark brown eyes were regarding Hannah with a faintly wary expression. Was he waiting for a signal of some kind? Or was the ‘surprise’ as unpleasant from his side as it was from Hannah’s? ‘I’ve spent the last few years imagining you living in Auckland,’ he added. A question was lurking in those dark eyes now but Hannah was not about to answer it. What could she say, anyway? That she had turned the job offer down because the thought of working in close proximity to him had been too offputting?

Peter had watched the brief exchange with raised eyebrows and a grin that indicated at least one person found this encounter a pleasant surprise. ‘You two know each other,’ he said unnecessarily. ‘This is great. As friendly faces in this department go, Jack, Hannah is top of the list.’

‘I’m sure she is.’ Jack’s observation was polite but definitely reserved.

‘We don’t know each other that well.’ Hannah was finally able to drag her gaze away from Jack’s face. To stop the unconscious catalogue of the minor changes that five years had wrought. A little grey amongst the dark brown curls that were shorter than they used to be. A network of fine lines at the corners of those deceptively warm eyes. A subtle change in the overall relationship between his features that gave the impression that Jack Douglas had done a lot of living in the last five years and that tears as well as laughter had been involved. She stamped firmly on the twinge of curiosity that surfaced. She didn’t want to know. ‘We met briefly, a few years ago.’ Hannah kept her words directed at Peter. ‘We were both applying for positions at the same hospital.’

What did Jack mean, he had been imagining her working in Auckland? National Children’s Hospital was large but not large enough to simply not notice a member of staff for years. She was able to look at Jack again now without revealing anything more than a polite interest. ‘Have you had enough of the ‘‘City of Sails’’, then?’

‘I didn’t take the surgical residency in Auckland,’ Jack responded. ‘I was called back to England and had to remain there due to family commitments.’

Ah, yes…the family commitments. The family Jack had denied having. No wife, he had confirmed blithely when Hannah had specifically asked. No kids. And she had believed him. The recollection of her gullibility made her tone tight.

‘And you’ve brought your family with you this time?’

‘Of course.’

‘Jack has a son,’ Peter informed Hannah. ‘He’s seven.’

‘How nice.’ Hannah’s smile was as tight as her tone. As if she didn’t know. ‘He should enjoy living here.’

‘He’s a bit older than Livvy,’ Peter added sociably.

‘Who’s Livvy?’ Jack queried.

‘Olivia…my daughter,’ Hannah was forced to respond. So much for hoping to avoid this area of her personal life, but maybe it was just as well to get it out of the way. Alarm that she might not succeed in letting Jack know this was none of his business made her tone sharp, but it was impossible to speak of Olivia without an emotional response and her smile loosened just a little.

‘How old is Olivia?’

The alarm bells clamoured with more urgency. If Hannah told the truth then Jack would probably put two and two together in a matter of moments. They had been together just over five years ago. Olivia would turn five in a few months. It was hardly rocket science.

Peter filled the fractional gap with ease. ‘She’s just a wee dot,’ he said warmly. ‘Seems like only yesterday she was born. How long ago was it, Hannah? Three years?’

Bless Peter’s vagueness about anything personal rather than professional. Hannah’s smile was far more relaxed this time. ‘She’s four,’ she said. ‘Just,’ she added hurriedly, for good measure.

She could see the lightning-fast calculations going on in Jack’s mind, and she saw the flash of what could have been pain cross his features momentarily. She welcomed the sense of being in control it gave her. The last time she had felt in control like this had been the moment she’d walked out on Jack and taken charge of her life to prevent history repeating itself. Hannah had coped then and she was damned well going to cope now.

Jack’s expression hardened and it was easy to see what he was thinking. She had gone from him straight into the arms of another man. What they had had together had meant nothing to her. Hannah lifted her chin. Why should she care what he thought of her? Far better to believe that than learn the truth.

‘Excuse me.’ The approach of Caroline Briggs made Hannah realise that they were blocking a significant portion of the corridor and her scattered papers were littering the only available route past. ‘I don’t want to tread on anything important.’

Some of the papers were copies from Jadine’s file and Hannah didn’t want Caroline to think that her daughter’s privacy was unprotected. She stooped hurriedly to rescue some of the paperwork. ‘Sorry, Caroline. We’re a bit in the way here, aren’t we?’

‘No problem. Can I help?’

‘I’ll manage.’ Hannah glanced up to smile at Caroline. ‘Are you heading home now?’

‘I’m off to the hairdresser, actually.’ Caroline looked a little defensive. ‘I might even get my nails done. Jadie’s sound asleep so there didn’t seem much point in waiting.’

‘Sounds like a good idea,’ Hannah said reassuringly. She couldn’t help noticing her own nails as she reached for another sheet of paper. Short and practical, they were as bare of any colour as her fingers were of rings. One nail was badly broken, thanks to having to fix the blockage in that pipe that fed the water trough last weekend. She hadn’t noticed what a contrast they presented to Caroline’s hands. Jadine’s mother’s fingertips looked as though a session at a beauty salon was not an unusual experience. ‘Enjoy your night out,’ she added. ‘And don’t worry about Jadine. We’ll call you if there’s any change.’

Peter watched Caroline as she walked away from them. ‘That’s the mother of our frequent flyer, isn’t it?’

Hannah nodded. She picked up the last of her papers and shoved them into the side pocket of her briefcase. Glancing up, she caught sight of Caroline’s back as she waited for the lift. The curls in her blond hair also advertised careful maintenance but the dark line at the roots suggested that putting off an appointment might have been inconvenient. Especially with an important date lined up tonight.

The less than charitable thought was uncharacteristic enough to astonish Hannah. Had Jack’s appearance rattled her enough to provoke such an unprofessionally judgmental attitude? Or was it more that he had made her aware of her own appearance? Could he see the extra lines that the years had undoubtedly etched into her own face? At least she had no grey hairs visibly lightening the dark honey blond, but compared to Caroline’s Hannah’s hair was as boring as her nails. Dragged back into a practical ponytail, the dead straight tresses were only this long because Hannah couldn’t be bothered going to a hairdresser very often. The uncomfortable ability to see herself as Jack probably did made it difficult to concentrate on what Peter was saying.

‘Any reason to suspect this visit is genuine?’

‘Oh, I think it’s genuine enough,’ Hannah responded. ‘I’m just not convinced that it’s medical. I think I’ll take your advice and bring the psych services in on this one.’

Jack had been watching Caroline enter the lift and Hannah found a curiosity she thought she had extinguished years ago resurface. What was his wife like? Carefully groomed, she suspected, as befitted a surgeon’s partner. No broken nails for her and no schoolgirl hairstyle tied with one of her daughter’s scrunchies which sported a bright red teddy-bear ornament. Peter had only mentioned the child she’d already known about so maybe Jack and his wife hadn’t been lucky enough to add a daughter to their family. Well, he would just have to do without, in that case. No way was he going to lay any claim to Livvy.

‘Are the psych services intended for the mother or the child?’ Jack’s interest was courteous but Hannah had no desire to continue this conversation. Shades of her talk with Caroline earlier today about the difficulties of being a solo parent were haunting her now but instead of feeling proud of having coped so well by herself Hannah was aware of a rapidly building resentment.

It was because of this man standing in front of her that she had had to fight to keep her career alive. Had struggled to keep a roof over her head and pay the bills and keep herself and Livvy clothed and fed. She had managed to get through the episodes of illness, including that nasty dose of chickenpox last year. Had survived countless sleepless nights with a tiny baby and the worries of new parenthood without the kind of relief or simply support a loving partner could have provided. Life over the last five years—and for the foreseeable future— would have been very different indeed if it hadn’t been for Jack Douglas.

‘Possibly for the doctor at this rate,’ she said lightly in response to Jack’s query. ‘You’ll have to excuse me but I don’t want to be late collecting my daughter from day care.’

‘You use day care?’ Jack’s interest was not merely courteous now. It was focused and intense enough to make Hannah grit her teeth. She had come across this kind of prejudice often enough, but to have it come from the person who had created the need for it in her life was enough to push her past any intended boundaries of staying politely aloof.

‘I have a career as well as a child.’ Hannah knew that at some point in the very near future she would admire the control she was managing to achieve right now. ‘I don’t find them to be mutually exclusive despite the fact that I’m a woman.’

‘I didn’t mean to—’

‘I’m sure you didn’t.’ Hannah’s interruption was as smooth as it was forceful. Her gaze was locked on Jack’s so it was safe enough to let him know that her mood in no way matched her words…or her tone. ‘And I’m sure you don’t intend to hold me up any longer. Enjoy the rest of your tour.’ She turned away, deliberately cutting off any attempt Jack might have made to say anything else. ‘Catch you tomorrow, Pete. 8 a.m. start for the ward round?’

‘Sounds good. Have a great evening.’

Hannah was already walking away. Every step was going to take her farther away from Jack. Her evening was getting better already.

The improvement continued. Hannah could feel her spirits lifting as she hurried along the ground-level corridor past Orthopaedic Outpatients and the plaster room on her right, the hospital pharmacy and chaplain’s office to her left. A sharp turn just before the entrance to the bone marrow transplant unit took her through a door into a fire-exit stairwell that was a short cut to the main car parking area for staff. Now she just had to negotiate the route past the hospital kitchens, Medical Records and the pathology department. Hannah kept up her brisk pace, trying to shake off the remnants of her reaction to seeing Jack again. The beginnings of the smile that tugged at her lips had a hint of smugness. If he tried to follow one of her private routes around this hospital he would get lost in no time at all.

* * *

If only she hadn’t got lost trying to find her way around that unfamiliar and huge children’s hospital in Auckland all those years ago. Dressed to the nines in a tailored skirt and jacket, nervously clutching the same briefcase she held now and panicking just a little. She had only scant minutes left to find the venue for her interview, and the sign hanging from the ceiling ahead of her indicated she had still not found the general medicine office suite.

He had been standing just beneath the unhelpful sign, wearing a suit and apparently absorbed in reading the contents of a manila folder. There had been a faint air of tension about him as though he’d been reading something important. Or waiting for someone who was late showing up. There had also been an aura of assurance. He’d obviously belonged there. He’d looked like a doctor. He would know where General Medicine was.

So Hannah approached him. Her determination to find her own way and handle the nerve-racking process of applying for her first permanent job with aplomb had been replaced by a desire to avoid looking stupid by arriving late and confessing she hadn’t been able to find her way. The solitary man beneath the sign seemed to be her best chance of resolving her predicament. She had cleared her throat to attract his attention away from the folder.

‘Excuse me. I’m wondering if you might be able to help me?’

He’d looked up from the folder and Hannah found herself the new focus of a pair of the darkest…and warmest brown eyes she had ever seen.

‘That would be a pleasure.’ The frown line between the unusually dark eyes disappeared and then the man smiled and Hannah knew that the conviction she had cemented over the last year that she had lost the capacity to find men attractive was completely wrong. The totally unexpected and badly timed realisation was disconcerting and Hannah dragged her gaze away from the disarming smile only to find it caught again by those dark, dark eyes. She could see a distinctly amused gleam in them now.

‘How can I help?’

‘I…ah…’ Hannah caught her bottom lip between her teeth, unhappily aware that she was probably compounding an image of being a helpless female. Not only had she been unable to follow directions but she was now rendered incoherent by the smile from a good-looking man. There was only one way out before this got any worse and Hannah took it. She smiled wryly as she made her confession. ‘I’m kind of lost.’

‘I’m not surprised. This is a very large hospital.’

Hannah’s deep breath was almost a sigh of relief. She didn’t feel so stupid any more. His tone was understanding. Sympathetic. And he had an accent. English, but not the public-school variety. It was more of a lilt that added colour to an already attractively deep voice.

‘Where are you heading?’

‘General Medicine. Not the ward, though. I’m looking for the head of department’s office.’ The movement to push her wrist clear of her navy jacket sleeve and check her watch was automatic. ‘I’ve got a job interview in five minutes.’

‘Have you?’ Thick, dark eyebrows rose until they almost vanished beneath the wayward curls above. ‘What’s the job?’

‘A registrar’s position. It’s the first one I’ve ever applied for and I really don’t want to be late.’ The words tumbled out. This was no time to be distracted into conversation no matter how attractive this stranger was. ‘Look, I’m getting a bit desperate here. Can you help me?’

‘I’d love to.’ The sincerity in the statement was obvious. ‘But…I’m afraid I can’t.’

Hannah held back a renewed surge of panic. ‘What?’

‘I hate to admit this…but I’m as lost as you are.’

‘What?’ Hannah knew she probably looked like a fish stranded out of water but she didn’t care. She had just wasted another precious two minutes and she was no closer to finding her goal.

‘I’ve got a job interview myself.’ The explanation was apologetic. ‘For a surgical consultancy. First one I’ve ever applied for as well and I’m damned if I can read this map and find the department.’

They stared at each other.

And then they laughed.

The tension evaporated by magic then and they both studied the map in the manila folder together. The stranger’s hand touched Hannah’s and she decided it really didn’t matter if she was a minute or two late. He was going to be even later for his appointment because he insisted on taking the stairs to the next level and making sure Hannah had found her destination.

‘Good luck,’ he’d said finally. He paused as he turned away. ‘I’m Jack, by the way. Jack Douglas.’

‘I’m Hannah Campbell,’ she responded. ‘And thanks. Good luck to you, too.’

The charm of that encounter hung around Hannah. Quite apart from being devastatingly attractive, Jack Douglas had been so nice. He had gone out of his way to help her despite needing help himself. And he had made her laugh when she’d been feeling anything but relaxed. The combination had created a magic that had stayed with Hannah well after the door had closed again behind him.

* * *

She slammed the car door with unnecessary vigour but a punctuation point was definitely in order. There was no point in raking over old coals and Hannah had left the remains of that blaze alone for so long now she was surprised to find the memory so vivid. Maybe if she’d been prepared for seeing Jack again she could have thrown some extra protection into place. On the other hand, maybe letting things surface so that she could deal with them once and for all was healthier. The reminder of an important lesson, no matter how well learned, was never a complete waste of time or energy.

And the worst was over now. She had seen Jack Douglas again. Had acknowledged that he looked and sounded pretty much the same. And she hadn’t been attracted. Not one tiny bit. The relief she’d experienced walking away from him had been palpable. It was still with her now twenty minutes later as she walked towards the old converted villa that housed the Maysfield Child Care Centre. The moment she walked inside and saw her daughter, the resolve that she would never let anything—or anyone—threaten what they had was strengthened to the point where Hannah felt invincible. She would deal with this because there was simply no other choice.

‘Mummy!’ A small face shone with delight and Hannah held out her arms to catch Olivia’s headlong rush. ‘I made you something, Mummy. You can eat it.’

‘Fabulous. I’m starving.’ Hannah hoped it wasn’t a sand pie decorated with marigold petals like the one she had been presented with in the sandpit last week.

‘It’s quite safe.’ Shirley Smith, the owner-operator of the child care centre, grinned at Hannah. ‘We’ve been in the kitchen this afternoon.’

‘They’re butterfly cakes, Mummy. Come and look! They’re be-yootiful.’

Hannah had to agree. The tops of the Madeira cake muffins had been sliced off and halved, to be positioned in the icing later as wings. Jelly beans had made colourful bodies and feelers had been created from tiny strips of liquorice.

‘I made two, Mummy. One for you and one for me.’

‘Shall we save them for later? A special treat for supper?’ Hannah could see the battle the decision-making process caused but her smile was automatic. Had she really never noticed before how similar Olivia’s eyes were to her father’s? Perhaps the fact that they were framed by blond hair had made the comparison less obvious. And she had never credited her daughter’s curls to Jack either. She was just Livvy—her gorgeous, lovable and incredibly precious child. Impulsively, she gathered the small body into her arms again and kissed the soft, fluffy curls. ‘Thank you for making me a butterfly cake, darling. Love you.’

‘Love you, too.’ Olivia wriggled free. ‘Let’s go home, Mummy. I want to count the daff-dils.’

Shirley walked out to the car-parking area with them. ‘Did you see the van?’

‘No. Has it arrived, then?’ Hannah looked around at Shirley’s smile. She must have been very preoccupied on her arrival not to spot the minibus parked in the corner. The paint job with the centre’s name surrounded by bright cartoon characters was eye-catching. ‘It looks great!’

‘We’re going to start the school runs next week.’

‘I’m so pleased.’ Hannah lifted Olivia onto her booster seat in the back of the car and fastened her safety belt. ‘I was dreading having to make other arrangements when Livvy starts school.’ The centre’s hours of 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. had been brilliant for Hannah and after nearly four years of coming here it was a second home for Olivia. The staff were caring and Shirley was a firm part of the family now.

‘I’m not sure about the roster for driving yet. I think Lucy’s a bit young at nineteen but some of the others are just as keen. I’m also having to decide how many schools we open the service to. I don’t want numbers to climb too much.’

Hannah nodded. Olivia had been one of the first clients of Shirley’s business. The numbers had climbed steadily over the years but there were never more than about twenty children at any one time. If too many parents took advantage of having the hours before and after school catered for then the atmosphere of the centre might change.

‘Just don’t leave Maysfield Primary off the list. Livvy’s enrolled there.’

‘That’s the closest school so it’ll be first. It may be enough by itself for the moment. I might wait and see what the numbers are like.’ Shirley leaned into the car to give Olivia a kiss. ‘Bye, sweetheart. See you tomorrow.’

Olivia balanced the small box containing the butterfly cakes on her knee and chattered non-stop until they arrived home. Hannah parked her small hatchback outside the old stable and then released her daughter, who ran straight to where the copper beech was unfurling its bright, velvety new leaves. She crouched amongst the numerous spears of green foliage beneath the tree and the triumphant shout made Hannah grin. Olivia knew her numbers perfectly well, she was just too excited to take the time needed to recite them all in order.

‘One, two, four, seven…nine. There’s nine daff-dils now, Mummy.’

‘Would you like to pick some to take in for Shirley tomorrow?’

‘Ooh, yes. I love picking flowers.’

‘I know.’ Hannah didn’t mind that the golden blooms would vanish. There were plenty more buds ready to open and take their place. And it didn’t matter that the flowers were beheaded without much stalk length. Shirley was bound to have a short jam jar to put them in. The pleasure of watching Olivia’s face as she concentrated on making yet another gift was too great to interfere with. Did other children gain such intense satisfaction from giving? Hannah doubted it. Olivia was special. Such a happy, loving little girl that she could only enhance the lives of anyone privileged enough to know her.

‘Let’s put them in some water for now.’ Hannah led the way beneath the ancient wisteria vine that festooned the bull-nosed verandah of the 1860s cottage. The narrow hallway led past the original four rooms with their glowing kauri flooring and joinery which Hannah had painstakingly stripped of countless layers of paint. It finished at the north-facing addition to the cottage that had been a celebration of gaining her senior registrar post at Christchurch Central. The inadequate lean-to kitchen and bathroom facilities had been replaced and the kitchen she and Olivia entered now was a sunny, open space with a dining area to one side of French doors leading to a bricked courtyard garden.

Two cats, one completely black and the other white, were waiting patiently near the fridge.

‘Hello, Sooty. Hello, Snow.’ Olivia dropped to a crouch again to haul each cat into her arms for a cuddle that was gentle enough to be well received.

Hannah rescued the abandoned daffodils and put them into a glass of water. She looked up to find Olivia’s face sporting an expression remarkably similar to Sooty’s and Snow’s.

‘I’m hungry, Mummy. Can I have a biscuit?’

‘It’s nearly dinnertime, darling.’

‘Please?’

‘Just one, then. I’m going to get changed and then we can go and feed the hens.’

‘Can I make a sandwich for Joe?’

‘Joe doesn’t need a sandwich, pet. He’s getting fat. Sandwiches should really only be special treats for donkeys.’

‘We’re going to have a special treat later.’

Hannah smiled. ‘So we are. I’d almost forgotten about the butterfly cakes. OK, then. Joe can have a sandwich but just one slice of bread and not too much Marmite.’

Hannah kicked off her court shoes and unzipped her skirt, reaching for the faded denim jeans hanging over the end of the brass bedstead in her room. A soft, well-worn polo-necked jersey covered the shirt she had worn to work and she sat on the bed to pull on the warm socks she would need inside her gumboots. This was her favourite time of the day. She could stop being professional and sink into the comfort of being where she most loved to be with the person she most wanted to be with. It was bliss.

The fine woollen skirt needed some cat hair brushed off before being hung in the wardrobe but Hannah took the time to care for the garment. It had lasted for years now, as had many of her good-quality clothes. Flicking through the hangers in the wardrobe was no more than a random gesture. She couldn’t pretend she was looking to see if it was still there because she had known all along that it was. Why had she even kept that white gypsy blouse with its rainbow drawstring neck? She’d never worn it again and it was hardly likely to come back into fashion.

* * *

It had been a relief to get changed that day as well. To escape the restrictions of that tailored suit and head out for a walk to celebrate a successful end to a stressful day and to explore this exciting city. As usual, Hannah had been wearing a favourite pair of jeans and the pretty gypsy top had been perfect for the glorious summer weather Auckland had turned on. The motel she’d been staying in near the hospital had been central enough for the vibrancy of New Zealand’s largest city to surround it and high enough to give tantalising glimpses of the Waitemata Harbour with its spectacular bridge and the holiday atmosphere the yachting activity provided. Auckland had been a totally new city for Hannah and she’d known she would love it if she was lucky enough to get the job and come there to live. The fact that her interview had gone so well made the possibility of starting a new life very real and the excitement the prospect generated made Hannah feel happier than she had in a very long time.

The coffee was great, too. A hot, creamy, strong latté in an outdoor café that had an unobstructed view of a large patch of harbour. Hannah was more than happy to sit by herself and enjoy the last part of the afternoon. She was even happier, however, at the interruption.

‘Excuse me, but I’m wondering if you might be able to help me?’

Hannah was laughing even before she turned towards the source of the instantly recognisable voice.

‘I’m looking for a good cup of coffee.’ Jack kept his face straight for a few seconds longer. ‘Can you recommend this establishment?’

The coffee was so good that Hannah had another one. It shouldn’t really have seemed like fate stepping in that Jack was staying at the same nearby motel. It was, after all, the closest one to the hospital and had been top of the recommended list. It was also coincidental that Jack’s interview had gone well and that, like Hannah, he was now on the shortlist for a coveted position; and it was hardly a surprise that they were both visiting Auckland for the first time. It seemed only polite to share the celebration of a satisfying day and completely logical to join forces and spend the evening exploring a little of the city.

‘After all,’ Jack pointed out, ‘we wouldn’t want to get lost, would we?’

They shouldn’t really have stayed out so late when they both had a second round of interviews the next day. And they probably shouldn’t have visited the Stardome Observatory on One Tree Hill as they finally headed back towards their motel. If they hadn’t already identified the constellations through the giant telescope inside, they wouldn’t have lain on a deserted, grassy slope later, trying to find them again.

And Jack wouldn’t have kissed her. Or had she kissed him? It didn’t matter. The attraction between them was so mutual and so strong that Hannah barely registered the breaking of so many of her private rules regarding men. She was about to start a new life here. Everything was new and exciting and tinged with a magic she had never encountered before. What better way to make it memorable for ever than to spend a night with the most wonderful man she had ever met? Reckless? Yes. Memorable?

Oh, very definitely, yes. Far too memorable. Hannah pushed the wardrobe door shut and made sure the latch clicked. Maybe she couldn’t stem the flow but she could shut these disturbing memories away again just as quickly. They just needed airing. A quick shake and then they could go back where they had come from and lie undisturbed, hopefully for good this time.

* * *

Olivia’s fluorescent pink gumboots looked positively lurid as they caught the last of the sunshine. Joseph, the grey donkey, was duly appreciative of the mangled piece of bread and Marmite. Velvety lips carefully plucked the offering from the tiny hand Hannah held flat on top of her own. She rubbed inside the length of the shaggy ear and Joseph closed his eyes and lowered his head in ecstasy. Olivia planted a noisy kiss on his nose.

‘We have to go now, Joe,’ she told their largest pet. ‘We have to see if the eggs have cracked.’

Arthur, the Chinese Silky bantam rooster, was strutting proudly in front of the henhouse with Bianca, Carla and Elsa close by. Deirdre was inside, as she had been for over a week now, keeping her clutch of six eggs warm. She appeared as Hannah scattered handfuls of grain and Olivia’s blond curls almost disappeared as she poked her head into the nesting box for a closer look.

‘There’s no cracks yet, Mummy.’

‘I think it takes a bit longer than a week for them to hatch.’

‘Maybe tomorrow?’

‘Maybe.’ Hannah squeezed the small hand that slid into hers as they headed back to the house via a quick visit to shift Horace the goat’s tethering pole. ‘We’ll have to think up some names for the chickens when they hatch, won’t we? What’s the next letter after ‘‘E’’?’

Olivia had to think hard about that. She sang her way through the alphabet song as she pulled off the pink gumboots.

‘F,’ she declared finally.

‘Good girl! What sound does ‘‘F’’ make?’