St Piran’s: The Wedding of The Year
Caroline Anderson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Dear Reader

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Copyright

Dear Reader

When my editor initially approached me about writing some of the books in the Penhally series, I said that if Nick and Kate were to have their own story, I wanted it! Well, you know the saying: be careful what you wish for…And here it is, right at the beginning of a stunning new continuity series based in Penhally’s nearest hospital, St Piran’s.

Kate was easy. Lovely, straightforward woman, with great compassion, devotion to her child, and the guilt that all women feel about keeping the peace at any price. Nick, on the other hand—well, Nick was Nick. Stubborn, obdurate, opinionated, demanding, contrary, dogmatic and passionate. And tortured. Tortured by his guilt, tortured by the past, unable to see a future with the woman he’d loved all his life.

Add into the mix his children—three of them all past heroes or heroines of the series, and the youngest, Jem, as yet unacknowledged—and it all gets a whole lot more complicated! But Kate loves Nick, has always loved him, and she sees the good in him, the decent, hardworking and still deeply attractive man who is struggling to find the way forward with the boy he now has to acknowledge is his own, and the woman who has his heart. And between them they find the way.

It’s been a long and hard journey for them, and I hope it gives you the reader as much joy to see their resolution as it gave me to write it.

With love

Caroline

Chapter One

‘OH, DR TREMAYNE, Kate left this for you.’

Nick stopped by the reception desk and took the sealed envelope from Sue, glancing at it in puzzlement. How odd…

‘Is she still here?’

‘Yes, I think so, but she’s about to go. She has to pick Jem up from holiday club. Do you want me to find her?’

‘No, it’s OK.’ He gave the envelope another glance, and with a curt nod to his patients as he passed them, he went into his room, closed the door and slit the flap open with his forefinger as he dropped into his chair behind the desk.

He drew out a single sheet, handwritten in her elegant, decisive script, and as he smoothed it out with the flat of his hand he stared at it in disbelief.

Monday 12 April

Dear Nick,

I’ve written to the PCT, and will tell Chloe and all my other colleagues and friends over the next few days, but I wanted you to know first that I’ve decided to leave Penhally and my post here as midwife. I’m putting my house on the market and Jem and I will move away from here over the summer, in time for him to start secondary school in September. It’s the right time to go, as far as his education is concerned, and I thought we could move closer to my mother in Bristol.

I’ll miss the practice and all the people in it, but it’s time for us to move on. There’s nothing here for me any more.

I would just like to thank you for all the support and kindness you’ve shown to me over the years.

Yours,

Kate

Stunned, Nick scanned the letter again. She couldn’t leave. Where the hell did she think she was going? And taking Jem away…

He pushed back his chair and crossed to the window, pressing his hand against the cold glass and staring out numbly at the sudden squall that had sprung up. The rain was streaming down the pane in torrents, bouncing off the roofs of the cars outside, and people were running for cover.

Including Kate. She wrenched open her car door, and as she got in her head lifted and she met his eyes, holding them for a moment through the lashing rain, then with a tiny shake of her head she slammed the door, started the engine and drove away, leaving him staring after her.

He sucked in a harsh, juddering breath and turned on his heel, moving away from the window before he put his fist through it in frustration. The letter was lying there on the desk, taunting him, and he crumpled it up and hurled it at the bin. It missed, and he picked it up, crushing it tighter in his fist.

Why? Why now, of all times, when he’d begun to feel there might be a chance…?

There was a tap on the door and old Doris Trefussis popped her head round and came in with a smile.

‘Cup of tea for you, Dr T., before you start,’ she said brightly, ‘and a couple of Hazel’s fairings. I saved them for you.’

‘Thank you, Doris,’ he said tightly, and held his breath until she’d shut the door. The last thing he could do was eat, it would choke him, but there was no way he could tell Doris that. She’d kill him if he didn’t eat Hazel’s biscuits, he thought, dropping down into his chair and dragging his hands over his face before flattening out the crumpled page and reading the letter again.

It didn’t make any more sense the second time. Or the third.

Maybe the tea would help.

He cradled the mug in his hand and stared blankly out of the window. It was slack water, the boats in the harbour swinging every which way in the squalling wind. He knew the feeling. He’d been swinging at anchor himself ever since Annabel had died five years ago, unsure of what the future held, of which way the tide would turn.

For a time he’d thought Kate was getting married, but then he’d heard on the grapevine that it was over now, and with Rob out of the way, he’d thought that maybe now, with both of them widowed—but then this, out of the blue. He’d never expected this. Never expected that she’d go…

She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t. She’d lived in Penhally for ever, her entire life. He’d known her since she was twelve, dated her when she was fifteen and he was seventeen, left her at eighteen to go to university, intending to come back for her—but then he’d met Annabel, and everything had changed.

Except Kate. She’d stayed the same—sweet, funny, kind—but those soft brown eyes had held reproach and disappointment ever since. Or maybe he’d imagined it, but all he knew was that every time she looked at him, he felt guilt.

He shut his eyes and sighed. God knows, there was enough to feel guilty about in the past thirty-odd years.

He folded the crumpled letter and put it in his pocket. He could go round there this evening, see if there wasn’t a way he could convince her to stay—but there was no point, he thought grimly. She’d made up her mind, and maybe it really was for the best.

He’d miss them both, but especially Kate—Kate he’d depended on for her kindness and common sense when he’d been in turmoil, Kate who’d managed the practice for years before she’d returned to midwifery and become a firm favourite with the mums.

Kate he’d loved, all those years ago.

Had loved, and lost, because of his own stupid fault. His chest felt tight just thinking about it, and he stared out of the window again, trying to imagine the practice without her. His life, without her. She couldn’t go. He couldn’t let her.

There’s nothing here for me any more.

Particularly not an emotionally bankrupt old fool like him. He had no choice but to let her go. No power to do anything else. The least he could do was do it with dignity.

He pushed the tea aside, strode to the door and yanked it open. ‘Mr Pengelly, would you come in, please?’

He tried to concentrate, tried to give the man his attention while he described his symptoms, but the letter was burning a hole in his pocket and judging by the feel of it the acid was doing the same thing to his stomach.

‘Sump’n’s goin’ on out there,’ Mr Pengelly said, jerking his head at the window.

‘Hmm?’ Nick dragged his mind back into the room and listened, and then he heard it over the rain and his clamouring thoughts. The sirens wailing, the rapid footsteps as Oliver Fawkner ran to his car outside Nick’s window and shot off up the road. He was on call today, acting as First Responder in the event of a serious accident as part of those duties, and he’d obviously been called out to the emergency.

‘The sirens,’ Mr Pengelly said unnecessarily.

‘Yes,’ Nick said, blanking it out of his mind as he examined him, weighed him, checked his blood pressure, listened to his chest. He was a heart attack waiting to happen, and if he had one, it wouldn’t be Nick’s fault. He’d given him sage advice for years, and it was time to lay it on the line.

More sirens. It was a big one, he thought, and eyed his patient firmly. ‘Right, Mr Pengelly, I think we need to have another look at your lifestyle. You’re overweight, you’re unfit, you don’t take your drugs regularly, and then you come in and tell me you have chest pain, but you don’t seem to be prepared to do anything about it and if you go on like this you’ll kill yourself. We need to check your cholesterol level again. It was high last time, and you’re still smoking, aren’t you?’

‘Ah, but I’ve cut down, Doc’

‘To what?’

He hesitated, then under Nick’s uncompromising stare he sighed and came clean. ‘Only twenty a day now.’

Only? ‘That’s twenty too many. Make an appointment on your way out for a fasting cholesterol test first thing one morning, as soon as possible, and then we’ll review it, but you need to start exercising and attend the stop smoking clinic—’

‘Must be a big’un. There’s the chopper coming now,’ he said, gesturing at the window again, just as the phone rang, and Nick frowned and reached for it, irritated that the man didn’t seem to be paying any attention.

‘Excuse me a moment—Tremayne.’

‘It’s Sue. I’m sorry to disturb you, but Oliver rang. Kate’s had an accident, and they’re airlifting Jem to hospital. He said you’d better get over to St Piran’s.’

He felt the blood drain from his head, and sucked in a breath. ‘What’s wrong—? How bad is he—is he—?’

‘Head and pelvis, he said, but he was quite insistent that you should go, Nick. Kate’s going to need you. And he said to tell her not to worry about the dog, he’ll sort it.’

The dog? He mumbled something and cradled the phone with a clatter. ‘Um—Mr Pengelly, I have to go. I’m sorry. Make the appointment, if you wouldn’t mind, and we’ll talk again when we get the results.’

‘So—do you want those biscuits?’

The man was a lost cause. ‘Help yourself,’ he growled, and got to his feet and went out to Reception, his legs moving automatically. ‘Right, Mr Pengelly needs a fasting cholesterol ASAP with a follow-up appointment,’ he told Sue. ‘I’m going to St Piran’s—can you get Sam to cover my surgery for me?’

And without waiting for her reply, without even pausing to pick up his coat, he strode briskly out of the doors into the lashing rain.

The drive to St Piran nearly killed him.

His stomach was in knots, adrenaline pouring through his veins, and with no one to distract him his thoughts were free to run over all the things that could be wrong, and all the things that could go wrong as a consequence.

The list was hideous, and just thinking it all through made him want to retch.

He called Ben’s mobile from his hands-free. His son-in-law would be there today, in A and E, and he’d give him advance warning. He drummed his fingers on the steering-wheel, waiting impatiently for Ben to answer, and when he did, Ben got there before he did.

‘It’s OK, Nick, we’re on it. I can hear the helicopter now, we’re going out to meet it. Just drive carefully and meet us in Resus. I’ll get someone to look out for you.’

‘OK. Ben—check Kate over, could you? Or get someone to? She was in the car with Jem and I don’t know if she’s hurt. And tell her I’m coming.’

‘Sure. Got to go. See you soon.’

The phone went dead, and he sliced through the traffic and in through the hospital gates, abandoned the car on the kerb and ran in. It would probably be clamped but he’d worry about that later.

He was met at the door and ushered straight through to Resus, and as the door swung open he froze for a second. He was assailed by memories, his emotions suddenly in turmoil. He couldn’t do this. Not here, not this room, of all the places.

He had to. On autopilot, he looked around at a scene of organised chaos, Ben snapping out orders and the team anticipating him like a well-oiled machine. A machine that held the boy’s life in its hands?

The same machine—and the same man—that had held Annabel’s—and lost it?

Dear God.

They were cutting Jem’s clothes off, slicing through the sodden fabric, peeling it away so they could get a proper look at him, talking reassuringly to him all the time, and it could have been any of his boys lying there, all skinny limbs and ribcage with only the pelvic binder left to hold his pelvis stable.

Don’t let him die. Please, God, don’t let him die…

‘OK, let’s cross-match for ten units and get five units of O-neg to start with, and some packed cells, and let’s get some X-rays—a full trauma series, starting with head, spine and pelvis. What about pain relief?’ Ben asked. ‘What’s he had already?’

‘Three milligrams of morphine IV, but his blood pressure’s dropping. Want to try—?’

The voices washed around Nick, only two things really registering. One was the bruised little face scarcely visible under the mask, most of Jem’s head concealed by the padding of the neck brace; the other was Kate, sodden and bedraggled, standing a few feet away watching as they worked on her little son, her eyes wide with fear, her lips moving soundlessly.

Praying?

Probably. There was little else to do. He crossed over to her, and she gripped his hand and gave a tiny sob.

He squeezed back. He wanted to hug her, to say, ‘It’s OK, it’s going to be all right,’ but he wasn’t sure it was, wasn’t sure she’d want him to hold her, wasn’t sure she’d believe him—and anyway his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.

He freed it with effort and concentrated on the facts. ‘Have you done a FAST exam?’ he asked, sticking to something safe, and Ben shook his head.

‘No, we’re just about to.’

‘Fast?’ Kate murmured.

‘Ultrasound, basically,’ Ben said. ‘It might show what’s going on.’

Such as free fluid in the abdomen. Blood, most particularly, from torn arteries, sheered bone ends…

Nick felt the bile welling again, and dragged his free hand over his face.

The radiographer was setting up the X-ray machine as Ben quickly ran the head of the ultrasound wand over Jeremiah’s thin, slightly distended abdomen, and Nick watched the screen, wincing at the image. Free fluid. Lots of it. Damn.

They were handed lead aprons. Ben must have realised they wouldn’t leave, and as the X-rays appeared on the computer screen a few moments later, Nick sucked in a breath.

Even across the room, he could see the fractures on the left side of Jeremiah’s pelvis, the bony ends displaced, the damage they’d caused all too easily imaginable.

‘OK, this needs fixation before he goes anywhere,’ Ben was saying. ‘Are the orthos free?’

‘No. They’re just finishing off so they’re ready for him,’ the charge nurse said. ‘Want me to get Josh?’

‘Please—and fast-bleep the anaesthetist, we need to get on with this.’

‘Who’s Josh?’ Kate asked, her face white.

‘New guy,’ Ben said. ‘He’s good—don’t worry, I’ve known him for years. He’s done a lot of this—he’s a bit of a trauma specialist. But we need to get this pelvis rigid before we move Jem and he needs to go straight up to Theatre if we can’t stop the bleeding here. You need to sign a consent form for that. Why don’t you do that and then get a cup of tea—?’

‘His pressure’s dropping.’

Ben frowned and bent over the boy. ‘OK, Jem, stay with us, come on, you’re doing really well. Let’s give him a 250-mil bolus of O-neg and we’ll see if he stabilises. Kate, I don’t suppose you know his blood group, do you?’

She shook her head, her face terrified. ‘No. No idea. I’m O-positive, if that helps.’

‘Cross-match results are up,’ someone said. ‘He’s B-negative.’

B-negative? Through the roaring in his head, Nick heard Ben sigh harshly. ‘Damn. We used all our stock this morning. I don’t know if it’s been replaced yet.’ Ben’s eyes flicked questioningly to Nick’s, and he swallowed.

‘I’m B-negative,’ he confirmed, the last traces of doubt obliterated from his mind with this one small fact. ‘So’s Jack. We’re both regular donors.’

Ben didn’t miss a beat. ‘OK. Nick, contact Jack and ask him if he’s able to donate today, then we’ll get Haematology to sort it. That’ll give us two units, and we’ll salvage his own in Theatre and recycle it and give it back to him, and we can use O-neg if necessary until we get more, but if we get the ex-fix on, the bleeding may well stop anyway.’

Or it might not. ‘You can take two units from me,’ Nick said, and he saw Kate turn towards him, heard the hitch in her breath as she waited for what he was going to say. Not that. Not out loud, but he met his son-in-law’s eyes squarely, and Ben gave a brief, imperceptible nod of understanding.

A door flapped shut behind him, and Nick turned and looked straight into Jack’s eyes.

‘Kate, Dad—hi. What’s going on?’ he asked. ‘I was out in cubicles—they said Jem was in here.’

‘He is,’ Nick said, and Jack looked at the X-rays, winced and glanced down at the child on the trolley.

‘Hell,’ he said softly. ‘Poor little chap. What’s the damage?’ he asked Ben.

‘Pelvis, for sure, and maybe abdominal and head injuries. We were about to contact you,’ Ben told him. ‘We’re short of B-negative. Have you given blood recently?’

‘Um—about three months ago? No—just before Christmas, so nearly four.’ Jack sighed harshly and glanced at the clock. ‘I’ve got a meeting I should be at and I’m already late. Can you call me if you definitely need me?’

‘We definitely need you,’ Nick said, his voice deliberately low so that only Jack could hear. ‘He’s your brother, Jack,’ he added, and watched the disbelief like a shockwave on his firstborn son’s face.

‘Jeremiah? Kate’s son? He’s—?’

‘My son,’ Nick said softly, voicing the words in public for the first time, and beside him he felt Kate squeeze his hand. His words hung in the air between them for a moment, and Jack’s face was suddenly expressionless.

‘Well, we’d better roll our sleeves up, then, hadn’t we?’ he said after a long pause, and Nick let out his breath on a shuddering little sigh.

‘Thanks,’ he said, but Jack turned to him, his blue eyes like chips of ice.

‘Don’t thank me,’ he said, his voice deadly quiet. ‘I’m not doing it for you.’ He turned back to Ben. ‘Give me five minutes. I just want to make a couple of calls.’

‘That’s fine, we’re using O-neg for now. You’ve got a little while. We’ll save cross-matched blood until he’s stable.’

He nodded curtly and walked out, slapping the door out of the way with his hand, and Nick closed his eyes and swallowed. He’d known it would come out at some time, he’d known it would be hard, but like this, with Jeremiah’s life hanging in the balance—

‘OK, what have we got?’ a new voice asked, and a man strode in, a man they’d never seen before, with a soft, lilting Irish brogue and that dangerous blend of rakish charm and lethal good looks that would leave trouble in his wake.

Nick knew all about that. He’d been like that in his youth; it had gone to his head, and look where it had got him. He almost felt sorry for Josh O’Hara, the new A and E consultant, but maybe this man wouldn’t make the same mistakes he had. He’d have to try hard to do worse.

He was bending over Jeremiah now, smiling at him. ‘Hello, Jem, I’m Josh. I’m just going to have a quick look at your X-rays, and then we’re going to send you to sleep and fix you, OK? That’ll take away a lot of the pain for when you wake up.’

Jem made a feeble sound of assent, and beside him Nick heard Kate give a little sob.

Nick tightened his grip on her fingers. ‘It’s all right,’ he said, reassuring himself as much as her. ‘He’ll be all right,’ he repeated, and hoped to God it wasn’t a lie.

Josh looked up and met their eyes. ‘Are you the parents?’

They nodded, the irony of it striking Nick like a hammer blow. Of all the ways—

‘OK. You need to sign a consent form, and then I think someone needs to take you to the relatives’ room and give you a cup of tea.’

‘I don’t want a cup of tea, I want to be here with my son!’ Kate said adamantly. ‘I’m a midwife, you don’t need to mollycoddle me.’

‘We don’t need to scrape you off the floor, either, and it’s a sterile procedure. You can stay till he’s out, then you go.’

Nick put an arm round her rigid shoulders, squeezing them gently. ‘He’s right,’ he said, fighting his instinct to argue, to stay. ‘You shouldn’t be here. Not for that. And someone needs to take a look at you.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘We don’t know that. Nick’s right, you need your neck checked, Kate,’ Ben said gently, lifting his head to meet her eyes. ‘And your feet. I gather they were trapped. Let us sort Jem out, and then while he’s in Theatre I’ll come and have a look at you, hmm? And in the meantime, go and have something hot to drink, and some biscuits or something. You’re in shock.’

She’d signed the form by the time the anaesthetist arrived a minute later, and Kate clung to her son’s hand, pressing it to her heart and murmuring softly to him as he drifted off, then Nick ushered her away, leading her out of the room and down the corridor to the relatives’ room, his reluctant feet tracing the familiar path.

‘You can wait in here—I’ll bring you both some tea,’ a nurse said with a kind smile. ‘How do you take it?’

‘Hot and sweet, isn’t it?’ Kate said shakily, trying to smile back, but Nick couldn’t say anything, because the last time he’d been in this room had been in the horrendous minutes after Annabel had died, almost exactly five years ago.

It came flooding back the shock, the horror, the guilt. He should have realised she was ill, should have done something, but he’d been so tied up in the practice he’d scarcely noticed she was alive. And then, suddenly, she wasn’t. She’d had a ruptured appendix, and Ben hadn’t been able to save her.

And yet again the guilt and the senseless futility of it threatened to swamp him.

Chapter Two

KATE cradled the tea in her hands and tried to force herself to drink it.

‘I hate sugar in tea,’ she said, and looked up at Nick, trying to smile, trying to be brave, but his face was shut down, expressionless, devoid of colour and emotion, and she felt the fear escalate.

‘Nick? He’ll be OK.’ He had to be, she thought desperately, his stark expression clawing at her control and threatening to destroy it, but Ben had seemed confident, Josh also, and there was no talk of ifs or buts or maybes, so he would be OK. Wouldn’t he?

‘Nick?’

He sucked in a breath, almost as if he’d forgotten to breathe for a while, and turned his head to meet her eyes. ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’

Miles away? When his son was under anaesthetic, having his pelvis stabilised with an external frame so they could try and stop the bleeding that was draining the life out of him? Where on earth had he been, miles away? And with that look in his eyes…

He scanned the room, his face bleak. ‘I haven’t been in here for years. It hasn’t changed. Still got the same awful curtains.’

And then she realised. Realised what he was seeing, what this must cost him, to be here with her, and her heart went out to him.

‘Oh, Nick, I’m sorry,’ she murmured, and he tried to smile.

‘Don’t be, I’m all right. It was five years ago.’ And then he frowned. ‘More to the point, how are you? Were you hurt? What was Ben saying about your feet? I didn’t realise you’d been trapped in the car.’

‘It was nothing—just a pedal. I’m fine.’ Her smile was no more successful than his, she supposed, because he came over and sat beside her, searching her eyes with his.

‘So what happened?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘I was picking him up from outside the high school. It was my fault—I parked on the right, hitched up on the kerb and rang him, and he ran up and got in, and I pulled back out onto the road. I couldn’t see a thing—the rain was sheeting down, but there were no lights coming, and I remember thinking only a fool would be out in this without lights, so it must be clear, and I pulled out, and there was an almighty thump and the car slammed sideways into the car I was pulling out around, and the airbags went off and—’

She broke off.

It had been over in an instant.

There had been nothing she could have done at that point, no way she could have changed it, but for the rest of her life, with the stunning clarity of slow motion, she knew she would hear the sliding, grinding crash, the scream of her child, and the thump as the airbag inflated in her face…

‘Ah, Kate,’ he murmured, and she looked up, into dark, fathomless brown eyes that normally hid his feelings all too well. But not now. Now, they were filled with sympathy and something else she couldn’t quite read. ‘I’m sorry. It must have been horrendous.’

She nodded, looking away because if she didn’t she’d lose her grip on her emotions, and she couldn’t afford to do that, couldn’t afford to succumb to the sympathy in his eyes.

‘I can’t believe I didn’t see him coming.’

‘You said there were no lights.’

‘I didn’t see any, and I was looking, but—’

‘Then it’s not your fault.’

She gave a soft snort. ‘Tell it to the fairies, Nick. I pulled out in front of a big, heavy off-roader when I couldn’t see, and Jem could have been killed. How is that not my fault?’

His mouth firmed into a grim line.

‘He must have been speeding, Kate.’

‘Very likely. It doesn’t absolve me of blame.’

‘Don’t,’ he warned, his voice strained. ‘Believe me, don’t take on the blame for this. It’ll destroy you.’

As his guilt over Annabel’s death had nearly destroyed him? She bit her lip, trapped the words, looked at the clock. It had hardly moved, and yet they seemed to have been in there for ever.

‘He’ll be all right, Kate. He’s in good hands.’

‘I know.’

She gave him another little smile, and reached up to touch his cheek fleetingly in comfort. The day’s growth of stubble was rough against her fingers, ruggedly male and oddly reassuring, and somehow his strength centred her. She had to stop herself from stroking her thumb over his cheek, backwards and forwards in a tender caress, the way she would with Jem. With anyone she loved. She dropped her hand hastily back into her lap. ‘Are you OK?’

His smile was crooked. ‘I’m the last person you should be worried about,’ he said gruffly, but it wasn’t true. She always worried about him—always had, always would, and running away wouldn’t change that, she realised. And even though it was tearing him apart, he was here for her now, when she needed him the most, just as he had been on the night her husband James had died. And he needed her now, too, every bit as much as he had then. So, yes, she was worried about him. She could never rely on him, not in the long term, but she worried about him.

‘Don’t be silly,’ she said with a little catch in her voice. ‘I’m really grateful to you for coming. I know it’s really hard for you, being here. All those memories. It was such a dreadful time for you, and I’m sorry to have to put you through it again.’

‘It just caught me by surprise, coming in here again, that’s all. All a bit too familiar.’ His smile was crooked and didn’t quite reach his eyes, and he rested his hand over hers. ‘He’ll be all right, Kate,’ he murmured, his eyes reassuring, his touch steadying her tumbling emotions.

The unexpected tenderness brought a lump to her throat, and gently she eased her hand away before she crumbled. ‘I’m sorry about Jack.’

He shrugged slightly. ‘I knew he’d hate me for it, but it’s not a problem. He’s hated me before, I can live with it.’

It was a lie, even if he was trying to make himself believe it, and she felt herself frown. ‘He’s a good man, Nick. He’ll come round. And he’ll be good to Jem. They all will’

He nodded, sighed, and stood up, thrusting his hands into his pockets as he crossed to the window and stood staring out into the rain. ‘Oh, they will. They’ll close ranks round him and take him into their hearts, all three of them. They’re like that. They take after Annabel’ He glanced down at the table, at the mugs sitting there, the tea growing cold.

‘You haven’t touched your tea,’ he said, and she let him change the subject and picked up the mug, giving him room, not crowding him. He hated emotion, and he was awash with it today, trying hard to hang together through all the horror of it. It was all right for her, she thought, her eyes welling. She could cry her eyes out and everyone would sympathise, but Nick—Nick had to stay aloof and distant, hold himself back, because for him, today was judgement day.

And, boy, would they be judging, and talking, and there would be plenty to say. Nick had been well and truly married twelve years ago, at the time of Jem’s conception, and the good people of Penhally held no truck with infidelity. When they found out…

Not that it mattered now. The only thing that mattered now was that her son—their son, she corrected herself—survived this, and lived long enough for Nick to build a relationship with him. She wondered what they were doing to him at this precise instant, and decided she’d rather not know. Midwife or not, there were things one didn’t need to see.

She pressed her hand against her heart, and realised it hurt. It was tender where the seat belt had tugged tight in the accident, pulling on her lumpectomy scar and the still fragile skin where the radiotherapy had burned it, and she suddenly felt very uncertain. Dr Bower had given her the all-clear from her breast cancer in January, but it was very much an ‘it’s OK for now’ result, and there were no guarantees for the future.

And if anything happened to her, Jem would need Nick. Assuming he survived—

‘Nick, drink your tea,’ she said, slamming the brakes on that thought, and he sat down beside her again and picked up the mug and took a mouthful, toying with the biscuits, crushing them to dust between his fingers, crumbling them all over the table.

‘Josh O’Hara’s a friend of Jack’s from London,’ he said out of the blue. ‘I gather he’s red hot. Ben used to work with him as well. That’s why he sounded him out about the vacancy. And Ben won’t let anything happen to Jeremiah—’

The door opened and Ben came in, and she dropped her mug onto the table with a clatter, fear suddenly closing her throat.

‘How is he?’ she asked, barely able to find the words. ‘Is he—?’

‘He’s stable, his blood pressure’s low but holding, so Josh and the anaesthetist have taken him to CT now to rule out any other injuries, then he’ll be going straight up to Theatre. And we need to check you over. Come on.’

She tried to stand, and suddenly realised how weak she felt, how uncooperative her legs were, how very long she’d been holding her breath. She wasn’t really listening any longer. All she’d heard was ‘He’s stable’, and her mind had gone blank, unable to take in any more than this one, most important, fact.

Relief was crashing through her, scattering the last shreds of her control; she sucked in some air, but it wouldn’t come, not smoothly, not sensibly, just in little jerky sobs, faster and faster, until at last the dam burst and she felt Nick’s arms close around her, holding her firmly against a broad, solid chest that felt so good, so safe that she wanted to stay there for ever, because if she leant on him, if she stayed there, then surely it would be all right…

Nick stood there for a second—scarcely that, but it felt like an age before he came to life again and his hands gentled, cradling her head against his shoulder, holding her against his heart as he rocked and shushed her.

She must be going through hell, he thought, and then it hit him that this wasn’t just her son, but his, too. Emotions slammed through him one after the other, but he crushed them down. There’d be time for them later. For now, he just had to be here for Kate, for as long as she needed him.

‘Why don’t you go and let them take the blood?’ Ben suggested, once Kate had stopped crying and been mopped up and taken through to X-Ray. ‘I’ll keep an eye on her.’

‘Isn’t Lucy expecting you home?’

He smiled again. ‘She was—two hours ago. Don’t worry, I’ve told her what’s going on.’

‘All of it?’ he asked, his heart jerking against his ribs, but Ben shook his head.

‘No. I thought I’d let you or Jack do that.’

‘She’ll be disappointed in me.’

‘I don’t know,’ Ben said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe a little, at first, but she’s said before how well you and Kate get on, and she knows you went out with her before you met Annabel, so I don’t think she’ll be exactly surprised to know you had an affair. In fact, she said only the other week that you ought to get together, now you were both free.’

His laugh sounded hollow to his ears. ‘I hope she’s not holding her breath for that. Kate’s going. She’s handed in her notice—she’s leaving Penhally.’

‘Wow.’ Ben frowned. ‘That’s a big step.’

He shrugged. ‘She told me today—well, she left a letter for me.’

She hadn’t even told him to his face. That hurt, but he put it on one side, like all the other feelings that were swamping him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ben said, and Nick blinked in surprise and met his eyes.

‘Why should you be sorry?’

‘You tell me,’ Ben said softly, and Nick looked away from eyes that saw too much.

‘She’s blaming herself. She said she didn’t see any lights, and she pulled out.’

Ben accepted the change of subject without a murmur. ‘Visibility was awful, apparently, and I gather the other guy not only didn’t have his lights on but he was speeding significantly, according to witnesses. He wasn’t wearing a seat belt, either, and the car wasn’t taxed. He’s in overnight for observation, and the police have been in to talk to him already. It definitely wasn’t Kate’s fault. I need to check her out. You go down to Haematology and I’ll see you when you come back.’

He nodded, and walked quickly down to Haematology to give the blood they would process and give to Jeremiah later, after his surgery, after he was stable. God willing. Jack was standing at the reception desk waiting, and turned to him, his eyes raking over Nick’s face.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked, and Nick nodded.

‘Yes. Ben’s taking a look at Kate.’

‘Have you eaten recently?’

Nick nearly laughed. For a moment there, he’d thought his son was enquiring after his emotional well-being, but, no, he was checking that he was OK to donate.

‘Lunch,’ he said, trying to remember and recalling a sandwich of some sort. He’d left half of it, and it seemed a long time ago. It had been a long time ago. He should have eaten Hazel’s fairings instead of leaving them for Mr Pengelly. ‘They gave us tea and biscuits in A and E, but I didn’t have them.’

‘Here.’ Jack handed him a small packet of biscuits from his pocket. ‘Eat those, and get a drink from that water cooler, otherwise you’ll pass out when they take the blood from you.’

And without another word Jack turned back to the desk and spoke to the haematology technician who’d just come to find him. Nick followed them, grabbing a cup of water on the way, and then lay in the next cubicle to his son, the curtain between them firmly closed, while the technician set up the intravenous line and started collecting his blood.

‘Can you be quick? I need to get back,’ he said, and she smiled.

‘It’s a good job you’re a regular donor, Dr Tremayne,’ she said tolerantly. ‘Saves all the screening. I take it nothing’s changed since the last time?’

‘No, nothing.’ Nothing except his youngest son nearly dying and Kate deciding to leave the county. ‘Take two units,’ he insisted.

She tried to argue, but Jack’s voice cut across them both.

‘Just do it. It might keep him quiet. You can take two from me as well.’

‘Are you sure? I don’t like to, but our B-neg donors in the hospital have all been called on recently and there isn’t any available until tomorrow. Stocks are really low at the moment; we’ve got O-neg but obviously this is better. You’re not still working this evening, Mr Tremayne?’

‘No. I’ve finished for the day and I’ve got a light day tomorrow. My registrar can cover me if necessary,’ Jack answered.

‘And you, Dr Tremayne?’

‘I’m not leaving the hospital until I know Jem’s all right.’ Nick replied.

If he was all right. Hell, he had to be all right. There was so much to say to him, so much lost time to make up for. It would be the bitterest irony if now, when he was finally beginning to accept that Jem really was his son and realise what he meant to him, he lost him before he could tell him.

Nick rested his head back, closed his eyes and prayed as he hadn’t prayed since the night Annabel had died.

He couldn’t lose another member of his family, and neither could Kate. It just wasn’t an option. He pumped his hand to speed up the flow, so he could get back to her side as quickly as possible…

‘She hasn’t got any fractures, but she’s sore,’ Ben said softly, taking Nick to one side when he returned to A and E. ‘Her right ankle’s got a nasty bruise, and she’s whiplashed her neck slightly, and her chest is a bit tender where the seat belt cut in. The skin’s still a bit fragile anyway, after the surgery and radiotherapy last year.’

He realised he didn’t even know if it had been the left or right breast, and asked—not that it made any difference, or was anything to do with him, but he just wanted everything straight in his head, trying to make order of the chaos of the day, and this was another brick in the wall he could straighten.

‘Left,’ Ben said, not even questioning his need to know that stupidly irrelevant fact. ‘I wanted to keep her here for a bit, let her rest, but she won’t hear of it. She’s very shocked, though. I’ve given her some pain relief, but she wouldn’t let me give her a sedative.’

‘No. She wouldn’t. Stubborn woman.’

Ben smiled tolerantly, and Nick gave a short, ironic laugh.

‘Pot and kettle?’ he said, and Ben chuckled.

‘Go in and see her, she’s waiting for you. And give me your car keys, I’ll get it moved. It’s obstructing the entrance and the ambos are getting cross.’

He handed over the keys, thanked Ben and went to see Kate.

How long could he be?

Ben had insisted she should lie there for a while and wait for Nick, and frankly she didn’t have the strength to argue. Anyway, there was nothing she could do for Jem now except will him to be alive, and she could do that lying down in A and E as well as she could hovering outside the scanner room in Radiology.

Once Nick was back, she’d get up and go and sit there, waiting for news, but for now, she was lying wide-eyed, alert, her adrenaline running flat out, her pulse rapid, her throat dry.

‘You’re a mess, Kate Althorp,’ she told herself, and closed her eyes. She wouldn’t sleep. No way. But she could shut out the light.

She’d dozed off.

Or so he thought, but as Nick stepped into the cubicle, her eyes flew open.

‘Is there any news?’ she asked, her face worried, and he shook his head.

‘No. I’ve just spoken to Ben, but they haven’t heard anything. Josh is with him in CT. Are you OK to go down there now?’

She gave a humourless little laugh that cut him to the bone, and tried to smile. ‘Sure. My right ankle hurts, but I’ve got some arnica gel in my bag, I’ll put it on later. Let’s go.’

‘Want me to do it now?’ he asked, wondering how he’d cope with touching her, smoothing his hand over her skin, feeling her warmth beneath his fingers and knowing she wasn’t his to touch, to hold—to love?

Would never be.

‘Not now. Later, maybe. I need to be with Jem.’

‘I’ll get a wheelchair,’ he told her. ‘Stay there.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Nick,’ she said, swinging her legs down and wriggling her feet into her damp shoes with a grimace. ‘I’m perfectly capable of walking. I’m fine.’

She wasn’t. She wasn’t fine at all, but she had guts. He tried to smile, but his own guts were strung tight. He tucked her hand in his arm so she could lean on him, and walked with her to Radiology, glad they were moving fairly slowly. He was feeling a little light-headed and wondering if his stubborn insistence on giving two units had been such a good idea after all. It was a quarter of his circulating blood volume—enough to crash his blood pressure into his boots. He ought to get something to eat and drink, but now wasn’t the time.

‘He’ll be out in a minute, he’s nearly done,’ the receptionist told them, and they sat and waited, Kate suddenly even more nervous because of what the CT might show up.

She thought her stomach was going to turn inside out it was churning so hard, and the painkillers Ben had given her didn’t seem to be helping. Well, they were helping, but not enough. She rolled her neck slightly to ease it, but it didn’t work. It was because she was tense, coiled like a spring, poised for bad news.

‘I can’t sit here, I’m going to have to walk around,’ she told Nick, pushing herself to her feet just as the doors opened and Jem was wheeled out by Josh and the anaesthetist. The radiologist came over to them, nodded to Nick and then turned to her.

‘Mrs Althorp?’

‘Yes,’ Kate said, trying not to fall down and feeling Nick’s firm hand on her waist holding her in place. She dragged her eyes from Jem and the gap in the blankets showing the frame holding his pelvis rigid, and leaned against Nick, grateful for the support, both physical and emotional, wondering what was coming, hardly daring to ask. ‘How is he?’ she managed, her throat tight.

‘Stable. No damage apart from the fracture—he’s been lucky, and there’s no sign of a bleed from the head injury, so they’re taking him straight up to Theatre now. You’ll need to go up with him and sign the consent forms, if you haven’t already done it, and I imagine you’ll want to wait up there for news?’

She nodded and looked at Jem. She wanted to talk to him—touch him, just touch him so she could reassure herself he was still alive, but he was unconscious, still under anaesthetic. She leant over the trolley anyway, and rested her hand on his cheek briefly, reassured by his warmth but frowning at the bruises as they walked towards the lift.

‘Jem? It’s Mum,’ she said softly. ‘You’re all right, my darling. You’re going to be OK, can you hear me? I’ll be waiting for you, OK? I’ll be here, all the time. I love you—’

She cracked, and Nick hugged her to his side as they followed the trolley to the lift and went up with him. They watched him go through into Theatre, and then Nick guided her to the chair-lined recess, and the long wait began…

‘So that’s your father-in-law?’

Ben grunted in confirmation, and Josh watched him. ‘Interesting undercurrents between him and the woman. I thought he was the kid’s father at first. It took me a minute to work it out. He seems OK—bit distant, but supportive. I take it they’re friends?’

Ben sighed and put down his pen, and Josh propped his hips on the back of the other chair and raised an eyebrow.

‘She’s a colleague as well. He’s known her for years.’

Josh nodded. ‘I know you didn’t always get on with him. Jack mentioned that he could be…’

‘Difficult?’ Ben supplied, his smile wry, and Josh grinned.

‘He probably wasn’t quite as polite as that.’

Ben gave a grunt of grudging laughter. ‘Yeah. But that’s all behind us now.’

‘Is it? I passed Jack on the way into Resus, and he was steaming down the corridor with a face like the Grim Reaper. I take it they’d had words?’ Josh waited, but Ben obviously wasn’t being drawn. He capped his pen and pushed his chair back, changing the subject.

‘Nice job, Josh,’ he said. ‘The ex-fix. Very neat. You’re going to be an asset to the department.’

He took the hint. ‘Thanks. Let’s hope I can convince them all.’

‘Giving you a hard time?’

He shrugged. ‘Some of them. Not all. I’m the new boy. They’re suspicious.’

‘Well, they don’t need to be. I’ll have a word.’

‘No, leave it. I’ll win them round—I’ll bring in doughnuts and smile a lot, work a bit late, you know the routine. A little of the blarney thrown in for good measure…’

‘Well, don’t expect it to impress me, I know you better than that, and they won’t be fooled by it. Stick to what you’re good at. Save a few lives—that’ll win them round.’

‘I’ll do that for an encore,’ Josh said with a lazy grin, happy that Ben, at least, seemed pleased to have him there. Shrugging away from the desk and putting the Tremayne family out of his mind, he went off to conquer some of the sceptics.

How could the time pass so slowly?

Kate watched the hands crawl round the clock face—a minute, two. She shifted yet again on one of the padded plastic armchairs, resting her head back against the wall with a fractured sigh.

‘He’ll be all right, Kate,’ Nick said, for the hundredth time, and she just nodded slightly and flexed her ankle.

It was enough to make her wince, and she felt him shift beside her.

‘Give me the arnica gel’

She handed it to him and pulled up her trouser leg a little, kicking off her shoe, and he squeezed a blob onto his fingers and crouched in front of her, so she could rest her foot against his lean, hard-muscled thigh. That was all the running and walking he did, mile after mile over the moors, trying to outrun his demons. She could feel the muscles flex beneath her sole as he shifted his position slightly, and the open neck of his shirt gaped so she could see the pulse beating in the hollow of his throat, hard and fast, driven by the adrenaline that must be coursing through his body as it was through hers.

She lifted a hand and laid it against his shoulder, and he went still. ‘Thank you, Nick,’ she murmured. ‘For everything.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I’m not. Nick, we need to talk.’

He squeezed more arnica gel onto his fingers and smoothed it gently over the top of her other foot where a small bruise was starting to show.

‘About?’

‘Did you get my letter?’

He said nothing for a moment, just kept rubbing her foot, round and round until the skin was all but dry, then he stood up again and washed his hands in the sink in the corner.

She wriggled her feet back into her shoes, wondering how long the leather would take to dry, how she could have got so wet. Standing in the rain, of course, watching while they’d cut Jem out.

‘Nick?’

He dried his hands, then like a caged lion he started pacing, from one side of the small waiting room to the other, then back again, ramming his hand through his hair and rumpling it further. It suited him, she thought randomly. The steel grey threading through it made him look distinguished, setting off his strong features—the features Jem had inherited from him. He was going to be a good-looking man, her son—their son.

Nick’s son.

Finally he stopped pacing, sucked in a long, slow breath and turned back to her, scanning her face for clues, but there were none. Her warm, golden-brown eyes met his calmly, giving nothing away, as usual. She never gave anything away unless she meant to, and then it was usually disappointment in him. ‘May I ask why you’re going?’ he asked, his voice carefully expressionless.

‘Why? I would have thought it was obvious, Nick. I can’t just be here for ever waiting for you to sort yourself out. Did you think I would? That I’d stay, to let you see your son a few times a year, in carefully arranged, apparently casual circumstances, so you can keep in touch without having to tell him you’re his real father? Or, more to the point, so you didn’t have to rock the boat and tell your other kids that we made love while their mother was still alive?’

‘Once,’ he said flatly. ‘Just once. It’s not as if we had an affair, Kate.’

‘No, you’re right. It was nothing so premeditated, was it?’ she acknowledged gently, as if he needed reminding about anything that had happened that hellish night. ‘We just reached out, to someone we could trust, someone who could trust us. But we were married—well, I suppose technically I was probably widowed at that point, but you weren’t. And we did make love.’

And they’d made a child. Until Ben had told him about the blood group, there had still been an element of doubt in his mind, of disbelief. But not now. Not any more.

He looked away from the shrewd, understanding eyes that saw too much. ‘Neither of us was thinking that night.’

‘And you’ve done your level best to avoid thinking about it ever since,’ she murmured. ‘So I’m going to make it easier for you. Easier for all of us. I’m taking Jem away, and we’re starting a new life.’

‘With Rob?’ he made himself ask, even though he’d heard it was off, but maybe it was back on, maybe that was why. ‘Is he going, too?’

A flicker of distress crossed her face. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘He deserves better than me. I’m like you, Nick. Scarred, broken, emotionally bankrupt. I’m no good to anyone. He’s a good man. He was very kind to me, and to Jem.’

He said nothing. After all, she was right. Rob Werrick was a good man, a decent man, who’d stood by her last year during her treatment for breast cancer, who’d supported her through the most dreadful days of fear and uncertainty, a role Nick had sorely wanted to play, but all he had been able to do was sit, isolated from her, and pray for her. And Rob was the man who’d taken Nick’s son to his heart and made room there for him, when the man who was his father had found he was unable to do so.

‘So was it you or him who called it off?’ he asked in spite of himself.

‘Me. He asked me to marry him, and I said no. I don’t love him—I can’t love him, not in the way he deserves to be loved.’ Her brown eyes were reproachful, her voice tinged with sadness. ‘So I’m going, and we’ll start again, and we’ll be fine.’

His heart felt as if it was being crushed in a giant fist, but if this was what she wanted, to go, to leave, then maybe she was right. Maybe it was for the best. Easier all round. And away from the shadow of this guilt they both carried, perhaps she’d find happiness with another man.

He ignored the little twist in his chest and nodded. ‘You’re right. If that’s what you want, then go, Kate. I won’t stop you—’

‘You can’t stop me, Nick.’

‘True. What about Jem? Will I ever see him?’

She gave a mocking little laugh that gave his heart another little wrench. ‘What about him? He’ll be fine. He doesn’t know you’re his father, it hasn’t done him any harm not to know, so it won’t in the future. I’ll tell him when he’s eighteen. I can’t stay here so you can ignore him at close range. Anyway, you don’t see him now—why would this make any difference?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous—of course I see him,’ he denied. ‘I see him a lot.’

‘Only if you can’t avoid it. Seeing him reminds you of your human frailty, and you don’t like that.’

He didn’t. He hated the constant reminder of what they’d done that night, of how he’d betrayed Annabel, tarnished the memory of James. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to watch the child grow up, make sure he was all right—

‘How the hell am I going to explain it to my children? They won’t understand.’

‘You could tell them you’re human?’ she suggested softly, her eyes so wise, so—so damn knowing.

He gave a quiet snort. ‘Oh, they know that.’

‘And this is about what they think of you?’ she said, her voice heavy with reproach. ‘What about what Jem will think of you when he finds out that he doesn’t matter as much as your other children—your proper children, all respectably born in wedlock? They’re no different, Nick’ she reminded him, her words still soft and yet flaying his skin off with their accuracy. ‘Conceived in haste, every single one of them. Story of your life. Well, I don’t want to be a part of it any more, of the carefully constructed illusion of reality you fool yourself with every day,’ she said wearily. ‘I’ll work my notice, once Jem’s better, but then I’m off, Nick, and you won’t hear from me again. It’s better that way.’

Was it? He wasn’t sure. He was suddenly filled with a cold, nameless fear for the future—a future without Kate, and without the boy, this last, unacknowledged and yet still infinitely precious child who, it seemed, he’d managed to love in spite of everything.

He sat beside her, the chairs so close he could feel the warmth radiating from her body, feel the air move with every shallow breath as her chest rose and fell.

‘I thought you wanted me to be in his life?’

‘I do—but not like this, giving him fragments of yourself from time to time. He deserves more from you.’ Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. ‘I can’t do this any more, Nick. I’m leaving, and that’s an end to it. Please. Just let me go.’

Let me go…

He held her eyes, watched the threatening tears well, watched in despair as one slipped down her cheek and fell to the floor. She never cried. Before today, the last time he’d seen her cry had been the night he’d taken her into his arms and held her. The night Jeremiah had been conceived.

Swallowing the bitter taste of regret, he stood up and turned away.

How could he let her go?

He couldn’t—but how could he make her stay?

Chapter Three

HE SAT down again a while later, but not for long, pacing restlessly, ramming his hand through his hair again and again until she thought he’d tear it out.

And then the doors swung open and Lucy and Jack came down the short corridor towards them.

‘How is he?’ Lucy asked, looking at Kate, avoiding Nick’s eyes as if she wasn’t sure how to do this.

None of them, in truth, knew how to do this. They’d just have to feel their way through.

‘Still in there. They stopped the bleeding, they’re just plating his pelvis. He’s been lucky, apparently—’

She broke off, wondering how on earth what had happened to her son could in any way be considered lucky, but then she felt Nick move closer, his hand on her shoulder, warm and reassuring despite their earlier words. Unable to resist the pull of that warmth, she dropped her head against his side, listening to the steady thud of his heart, and above it, the tension coming off them in waves, she could hear their quiet, fraught conversation.

‘I’m glad you came,’ Nick said, and she saw Lucy tense.

‘I had to, Ben asked me to give you back your car keys. It’s in the staff car park.’ She dropped them in his hand, then shook her head. ‘I’m not here for you, anyway, I’m here for a little boy who’s apparently my brother. I don’t know what to say to you. All that fuss when Mum died, but all the time you’d been carrying on behind her back—’

‘Lucy, it wasn’t like that. It was just once, right after the storm. Kate was distraught, I was distraught. It just—’

‘Happened?’ she said, her voice a little hard, unlike her usual self, but then she would be, Kate thought. None of them were themselves.

Nick let Kate go and moved away a fraction, and she lifted her head and looked up at Jack and Lucy.

‘It wasn’t just his fault. It takes two, remember. I was as much to blame. And just as married, really. James had only just died. There was no decent interval, believe me. It was inexcusable, but it never happened again.’

‘Not with you, maybe, but were there others?’

Jack’s question made Nick suck in a sharp breath.

‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘There were no others. Apart from that one occasion when we were both beside ourselves with grief and I didn’t really know what I was doing, I was never unfaithful to your mother. I loved her.’

Jack snorted. ‘Strange way of showing it.’

‘Jack, leave it,’ Lucy said. ‘It’s irrelevant to this. But what I can’t understand,’ she went on after a slight pause, ‘is why you’ve never told us he’s our brother—why you’ve kept it a secret for, what, eleven years or more?’

‘Two. I didn’t know about Jem until two years ago,’ Nick said, and their eyes swivelled to Kate.

‘So, did you know?’ Lucy asked incredulously. ‘Before then, did you know? I mean, you are sure about this? That James wasn’t his father? Have you had a DNA test?’

‘James isn’t his father. You’ve only got to look at him, Lucy. Look at his eyes. Look at his mouth. He was just like Jack’s little Freddie when he was three or four, just like Jack and Edward at his age now. And, anyway, James and I had been having fertility investigations. We were talking about adoption. Why would I need a DNA test? Besides,’ she added, ‘if I needed any other proof, I have it now. James was A-positive.’

Lucy sat down hard, her eyes accusing and filled with tears. ‘So—for eleven and a half years you’ve been convinced he was Dad’s child, and you didn’t tell him until two years ago?’

Kate reached out a hand, but Lucy snatched hers away, and she gave a fractured sigh and dropped her hand back in her lap. ‘How could I? He was happily married, he had three other children—who was I to throw all that into chaos?’

Jack gave a short, hard laugh. ‘The mother of his child?’

She met his accusing eyes. ‘Exactly. I wasn’t Nick’s lover, I wasn’t his wife—I was the mother of a child. And I did what I could to protect my child, and you, his other children, and his marriage. There was no point in upsetting all of that. Two wrongs don’t make a right. And we’ve been fine. Jem’s had a good life, settled, and I’ve given him all the love he could ever need.’ Her voice cracked. ‘And now he could be dying…’

She felt Nick sit down beside her again and slide his arm around her, there for her, giving her his strength and support—at least for now. ‘It’s OK,’ he said softly, turning her head into his shoulder and cradling it gently. ‘Don’t cry, Kate. He’ll be all right. It’s going to be OK.’

Was it? She hoped so, but she couldn’t for the life of her think how she’d cope if it wasn’t.

She felt Lucy sit beside her, felt the gentle touch of her hand. ‘Kate, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m just—It’s a bit of a shock, that’s all. And I’m so worried about him.’

‘I know,’ she whispered, patting Lucy’s hand reassuringly. She loved Nick’s daughter, she’d delivered her babies—she hated it that Lucy thought less of her now because of this, but it was only what she deserved. She’d given Lucy’s father the means to commit adultery, and it was every bit as much her fault as his.

But for now her guilt was directed towards her son, lying there on the operating table, his life hanging in the balance, hoping that when they opened him up they didn’t find anything unexpected.

She concentrated her mind on him, focused all her thoughts, willing him to pull through, to make it, to be all right. And then the door opened, and her heart stopped in her chest, eyes locked on the surgeon as he approached.

Nick got slowly to his feet, and Kate held her breath, unable to move until she knew he was all right, but he was, she could see that from the surgeon’s smile as he pulled off his mask, and with a leap her heart started to beat again, the slow, dull thud threatening to deafen her.

He acknowledged Jack with a nod, then crossed to her, his hand extended.

‘Mrs Althorp—I’m Martin Bradley. I’ve just finished operating on your son.’

She shook his hand on autopilot. ‘How is he?’

‘He’s OK.’ He perched on the chair beside her, taking Nick’s place. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t have time to talk to you before we started, but I was already scrubbing in and I’m sure Ben Carter will have explained what we were going to do. Under the circumstances I didn’t want to make him wait. Anyway, he’s fine, he’s come through the operation well, we’ve managed to fix the fractures and I think he’ll get a very good result. He’s broken the two bones at the front of his pelvis on the left, hence all the bleeding, but the pubic symphysis, the cartilage joint between the two halves at the front, wasn’t disrupted so he’ll be back on his feet quite quickly. We’ve sorted out the vascular damage, plated the fractures, and in fact it’s all come together very neatly. It shouldn’t give him any problems once it’s healed in a few weeks.’

‘So—he’ll be all right? He hasn’t got any nerve damage?’

‘Not that we know of. His left sacroiliac joint might be sore for a while, but it wasn’t displaced and I’m confident he should make a complete recovery. We’ll know more later, but it’s looking good at the moment. We’re running whole cross-matched blood into him now, and we salvaged the free blood in his abdomen—that’s gone off to the lab to be cleaned up so it can be returned to him if necessary, and then we’ll do some tests and balance the blood components over the next twenty-four hours, but that’s all pretty routine stuff. Any questions?’

‘No. I just want to see him.’

‘That’s fine. If you think of anything, don’t be afraid to ask. I’ll be around for the next couple of hours, just in case there are any problems. Jem’s in Recovery now, so you can come and talk to him. He’s very drowsy, but he’s come round and he’s fine. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.’

Kate nodded, her body suddenly turning to jelly, and she was glad she was sitting down. Nick helped her up, his arm around her as they went through into Recovery, and it tightened as she stood by Jem’s side, sucking in her breath at her first sight of him.

He was linked up to a mass of tubes and wires and drips, a monitor blinking on the wall behind him, and his poor bruised little face was so chalk-white against the pillow he almost disappeared on it.

She took his hand in hers, wondering at how small and fragile he looked—somehow so much more vulnerable, with his eyes shut and all the tubes and wires. Where was her lively, vibrant boy, his gangly limbs and eager enthusiasm carrying him through life at a hundred miles an hour? Where had he gone? She stroked his hair back from his bruised forehead with a shaking hand and bent to kiss it.

‘Jem? It’s Mum. I’m here, my darling, right next to you. You’re going to be all right. You sleep now, OK?’

There was a small sound that could have been acknowledgement, and his fingers flickered in her hand. She squeezed them back, and he seemed to sigh and go off to sleep again, and she felt her legs start to buckle with relief.

But Nick was there, holding her up, giving her moral and physical support. She didn’t want to rely on him, but there was something about him, like a rock, an anchor in a world that had gone mad, and she leant against him and let him hold her. Just for now, just while she stared at her son and let herself believe he might live.

‘You won’t get much out of him,’ Martin Bradley murmured. ‘He’s heavily sedated, and we’ve given him some pretty hefty pain relief, but he should be more comfortable now his pelvis is stable.’

‘So what happens now?’ Nick asked, staring down at the injured child who looked so fragile amidst the plethora of tubes and wires and technology, and he shrugged.

‘He’ll stay here for a while—an hour or two? Just until we’re quite happy that he’s stable and we don’t have to take him back into Theatre. Then he’ll be in PICU—Paediatric Intensive Care—for the night. He doesn’t really need to be there, but they’ve got the bed available and they’ll be able to monitor him more closely overnight while we balance his bloods, so we might as well take advantage of it. He’ll probably move to the ward tomorrow, and then he’ll be there for a couple of weeks, I expect, while we get him up on his feet again, and then it’s just a case of getting slowly stronger. We’ll have to see. The plates and screws will have to come out at some point, as he’s still got a lot of growing to do, but we’ll worry about that in a few weeks or months. Anyway, I’ll be around, so we’ll talk again tomorrow if I don’t see you later. And try not to worry. He’s going to be all right, you just have to give it time.’

Kate wanted to smile, but her muscles didn’t seem to work. She realised she was still leaning on Nick, and she straightened up, moving away a fraction, distancing herself. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, and held out her hand. ‘You’ve been very kind.’

He shook it firmly. ‘My pleasure. I’m glad to see you’ve got someone with you—the whole Tremayne clan, no less, including Lucy. I haven’t seen you for a while. Are you well?’

‘Yes, very,’ she said with a smile, but Kate could see it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Busy. I’ve got two children now.’

‘Yes, so Ben tells me. Well, it’s good to see you again, and it’s nice that Kate’s got so many friends around her supporting her.’

Nobody contradicted him, and he left them alone, nothing to break the silence but the soft beeps and hisses from the instruments, and the distant ringing of a telephone in another room.

Lucy broke the silence first.

‘Um—I ought to go. I’ve left Ben with the children, and Annabel’s had a cold, so she’s a bit fractious, and Josh is teething, but keep in touch.’

‘Yes, make sure you do that,’ Jack agreed. ‘I should go, too, I haven’t seen the kids at all today, and I’ve only seen Alison under the edge of the duvet, so I’d better go home before they can’t remember who I am. I’ll come up tomorrow and see Jem, but if there’s any change in the meantime, Kate, give us a ring, OK? Or if there’s anything we can do?’

‘Of course I will,’ she promised, and they walked out, shoulder to shoulder, Jack putting his hand against Lucy’s back to escort her through the door. And then it swung shut behind them and Nick let go of some of the tension that had held him for the last few hours and looked down at Kate with a fleeting smile.

‘I told you he’d be OK.’

She dredged up a smile. ‘Of course you did. I just didn’t dare believe you.’

‘Do you believe me now?’

‘I might be starting to,’ she admitted, and looked back down at Jem, her face drawn and fraught. ‘You don’t have to stay, Nick.’

Was she mad? ‘Of course I’m staying. You can’t believe I’d leave you alone now.’

‘Why not? You heard the surgeon, he’s out of danger. You don’t need to be here, you’ve got to work tomorrow.’

‘No. I’m not leaving you, Kate. I’m here for you, for both of you, for as long as you need me.’

She met his eyes, and they seemed sincere, but she’d thought that thirty-something years ago, and he’d left her. Left her and married Annabel when she’d become pregnant with the twins. ‘I can’t lean on you, Nick. I won’t let myself. Every time I do, every time I think I dare, you let me down.’

‘I won’t let you down. I promise you, Kate, I won’t walk away from this.’

She stared at him, at the serious expression on his face, the conviction in his eyes, in his voice. Dare she trust him? ‘You always walk away,’ she said at last.

‘I didn’t the night James died.’

She gave a soft huff of laughter and shook her head. ‘No, you didn’t, did you? Maybe it would have been better if you had.’ But then she wouldn’t have had Jem, and her life would have been empty and pointless. And she needed him now.

‘I know I’ve let you down,’ he said softly. ‘I know I’ve let Jem down. But I’m here now, and I’ll stay here for as long as you need me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Just give me a chance.’

She shrugged and looked away. ‘I can’t stop you. But I can’t lean on you, either. I have to do this on my own.’

‘No, you don’t,’ he said, trying to inject something into his voice that she could believe in. ‘And I’ll prove that to you.’ Even if it took years. A lifetime.

Her shoulders were drooping, and his heart went out to her. Poor Kate. She was exhausted, he thought, exhausted and shocked and traumatised, and it was late. ‘You ought to eat,’ he coaxed gently. ‘Keep your strength up.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t eat. Not when he’s like this. Maybe later. I could murder a drink, though. I wonder when they’ll move him to PICU?’

‘An hour or so? Shall I go and get you something? Tea, coffee?’

‘Tea would be lovely. Do you mind? I really don’t want to leave him.’

‘On one condition—you sit down beside him and rest, and you eat something if I bring it back.’

‘You’re a bully, do you know that?’ she said, but she was smiling, an exhausted, rather watery smile that in a heartbeat could have morphed into tears, and she sat obediently in the chair he put there for her.

‘I’m looking after you is what I am,’ he said, and headed for the door. ‘Any special requests?’

‘Tea. And a sandwich, if I must, but no cheese. I’m going to have nightmares as it is.’

‘OK. Back in five.’

He went through the door and down the stairs, pausing halfway because he felt suddenly light-headed. Damn. That was giving two units of blood, not drinking anything like enough to replace the lost fluid or taking in any food—apart from Jack’s biscuits, he’d had half a cup of tea, a cup of water and whatever he’d had in A and E in the relatives’ room, and that was all since his miserable half-sandwich and instant coffee at lunchtime. And it was—good grief—a quarter past midnight.

And the café, when he got there, was shut, with a sign directing him to the main canteen some distance away.

There was a vending machine, and he pulled some coins out of his pocket with fingers that were starting to shake violently, and put them into the machine, pressed the button for a bottle of sports drink to boost his fluids and blood sugar, and twisted the cap to loosen it. And it sprayed him.

He swore, twisting it shut again, and suddenly it was all too much. He dropped his head forwards against the vending machine and resisted the urge to slam it into the gaudy metal case. Head-banging wouldn’t cure anything.

‘Is it broken again?’

The voice was soft and feminine, and he lifted his head and stared vaguely at the woman.

‘Um—no. Sorry. Did you want the machine?’

‘No, it’s OK.’ She tilted her head on one side, looking at him keenly. ‘Are you all right?’

He opened his mouth to say yes, and then stopped. The woman was slender and delicate, but curvy in all the right places. She was probably younger than Lucy, her dark hair twisted up into a clip, and there was compassion and understanding in her emerald-green eyes.

‘A friend’s little boy’s just been admitted,’ he said, gagging on the half-truth. ‘They had a car accident. His pelvis is fractured. I was getting us something to eat, but…’

She frowned. ‘I’m so sorry. Has he been to Theatre?’

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