Her Christmas past becomes her Christmas present!

When Dr. Emma Matthews was entrusted with the guardianship of her best friend’s daughter, she promised that every Christmas would be special... But this Christmas Eve, Jack Reynolds—her old flame and Lily’s uncle—has walked back into their lives.

Both Emma and Jack still bear the scars of this time last year. But now Jack wants to start again—being there for his adorable niece, picking up where he and Emma left off, and giving them all the family Christmas they deserve!

Christmas Eve Magic

Reunited on the night before Christmas!

The hospitals are bustling, the snow is falling and Christmas is fast approaching. Dr Emma Matthews and Dr Katie McGann have just one more nightshift to go, and for both the magic of Christmas is all around, because happy-ever-afters are about to land under their Christmas trees.

Let authors Annie O’Neil and Alison Roberts sweep you away on an unforgettable festive ride you won’t forget in:

Their First Family Christmas

by Alison Roberts

and

The Nightshift Before Christmas

by Annie O’Neil

Available now!

Their First Family Christmas

Alison Roberts

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ALISON ROBERTS is a New Zealander, currently lucky enough to live near a beautiful beach in Auckland. She is also lucky enough to write for both the Mills & Boon Cherish and Medical Romance lines. A primary school teacher in a former life, she is also a qualified paramedic. She loves to travel and dance, drink champagne and spend time with her daughter and her friends.

Books by Alison Roberts

Mills & Boon Medical Romance

Wildfire Island Docs

The Nurse Who Stole His Heart

The Fling That Changed Everything

From Venice with Love

200 Harley Street: The Proud Italian

A Little Christmas Magic

Always the Midwife

Daredevil, Doctor...Husband?

Mills & Boon Cherish

The Wedding Planner and the CEO

The Baby Who Saved Christmas

The Forbidden Prince

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

Praise for Alison Roberts

‘...the author gave me wonderful enjoyable moments of conflict and truth-revealing moments of joy and sorrow... I highly recommend this book for all lovers of romance with medical drama as a backdrop and second-chance love.’

—Contemporary Romance Reviews on NYC Angels: An Explosive Reunion

‘This is a deeply emotional book, dealing with difficult life and death issues and situations in the medical community. But it is also a powerful story of love, forgiveness and learning to be intimate... There’s a lot packed into this novella. I’m impressed.’

—Goodreads on 200 Harley Street: The Proud Italian

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Christmas Eve Magic

Title Page

About the Author

Praise

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘ALMOST HOME TIME, EMMA.’

‘I know.’ Emma Matthews beamed at the triage nurse behind the central desk of Glasgow’s Eastern Infirmary. ‘I’m so excited. What is it about Christmas Eve that can make you feel so much like a kid again?’

She hadn’t felt like this in so long. In all honesty, she hadn’t ever expected to be able to feel like this again, let alone today of all days. These moments of joy that had surprised her in the odd quiet moments of this long shift were something to be treasured—rare jewels in a landscape that, by rights, should have been the bleakest ever.

‘Presents,’ Caroline offered. ‘And being able to go out for drinks knowing that you’ve got a day off to recover. Are you coming to the pub with us after work?’

‘No.’ Emma shook her head. ‘I’ve got a date.’

‘No way...’ A registrar paused as he reached for a set of case notes on the desk. ‘Did I hear you say you had a date?’

‘With my daughter, Alistair,’ Emma said. ‘Don’t you go spreading ridiculous rumours.’

As if she had time to go on any other kind of date.

Or the inclination, for that matter.

‘It’s a date to decorate the tree and hang up our stockings,’ she added. ‘And put carrots out for the reindeer. And some of the shortbread Mum will have been baking has to go out for Santa. You know...the really exciting stuff...’

Alistair rolled his eyes, tucked the notes under his arm as he glanced up at the board and then headed for one of the curtained cubicles that lined the side walls of this area.

Caroline was far more impressed with the date Emma had lined up. ‘Aww...cute,’ she sighed. ‘Lily’s, what...eighteen months old now? Old enough to get excited.’

‘She calls it Kissmas.’ Emma smiled. ‘And yeah...it’s the cutest thing ever.’ A new family tradition had been born—kisses for Kissmas—and Lily was only too happy to oblige. She couldn’t wait to get home and have those small arms wound around her neck as Lily plastered her face with more of the festive affection.

She reached up to erase the name in the space for Curtain Seven. ‘Guess what three-year-old Colin had jammed up his nose?’

Caroline shuddered as she reached for one of the phones on the desk that had started ringing. ‘Do I want to know?’

‘It was a little ball from the top of a Christmas decoration. Like one of those...’ Emma waved at the brightly coloured miniature tree on the end of the desk where some tiny Santas dangled with white bobbles on the top of their hats.

Not that Caroline was listening anymore. ‘But I told you we need a bed urgently,’ she was saying. ‘Now. We’re short-staffed in ED as it is, with this flu going around, and we’re filling up. We don’t have room to hang on to patients who need admission. I don’t care how you do it—just find us some space—’

She ended the call as the radio behind her crackled into life.

‘Rescue Three to Eastern Infirmary. How do you read, over?’

Caroline grabbed the microphone. ‘Go ahead, Rescue Three.’

‘We’re coming to you with a six-year-old, status epilepticus... Vital signs as follows...’

Emma was only half listening to the transmission, her gaze sweeping the department. Thanks to the flu that had been felling staff in the last few days, she had been the only consultant on today. She had two registrars and three junior doctors along with the nursing staff and technicians but many of them were due to finish their shifts when she was—in thirty minutes—at six o’clock. She needed to check how many medics would be here to work with Stuart Cameron, the head of this ED, when he came in to relieve her. As usual, he’d put up his hand to work the Christmas Eve night shift so that as many of his staff as possible could be at home with their families.

Emma’s heart squeezed with another moment of warmth that gave her a lump in her throat. Stuart was not only the best ED specialist she knew, he was also the kindest man in the world. She wouldn’t have got through this last year without him, that was for sure...

And she needed to make sure she was on top of everything going on in here at the moment so she could give him a competent handover. Oh, and she needed to remember to fetch his gift from her locker—that very expensive bottle of aged Scotch whisky that she knew he would love. She’d wrapped it last night and given it a gorgeous, tartan bow.

‘What’s the ambulance ETA?’ she asked Caroline.

‘Ten minutes. And you should know that they haven’t been able to get IV access.’

‘Okay. Thanks.’

Would the child with the uncontrollable seizures arrive before Stuart did? If so, Emma would have to handle this case. At least both the resus rooms were empty at the moment. She walked towards one of them, catching Alistair’s eye as he emerged from behind a curtain.

‘Might need you in a few minutes,’ she warned. ‘Six-year-old incoming with status epilepticus. No IV in. I’ll get an intraosseous kit out in case we have problems, too. He’ll need IV meds asap.’

She glanced over her shoulder as she heard the distinctive whoosh of the automatic doors that led to the ambulance bay. Was the paediatric emergency arriving early?

No. Emma breathed a sigh of relief. It was Stuart Cameron, who would have parked in the ‘Consultant On Call’ space beside hers at one side of the ambulance bay. He was bundled up in a thick coat, scarf and hat, looking like he’d come in from Arctic temperatures, and Emma felt another beat of excitement. Was it possible they’d actually get some snow for Christmas?

Not in the city, of course—that never happened these days. But out in the countryside a bit, where she lived with her mother in her tiny whitewashed cottage—well...they might just get lucky...

Stuart was unwinding his scarf and then unbuttoning his coat as he came further into the department. As he got closer, and took off his hat, alarm bells began ringing for Emma.

‘You don’t look so good, Stuart.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Come with me,’ Emma ordered. She led him into the resus room and pointed to a chair. ‘Sit.’

Stuart shook his head, peeling off his coat. ‘I don’t need to sit. I need you to give me a handover so you can get home to Lily and—’

He stopped talking abruptly and Emma could see the way his features froze as he closed his eyes.

Her tone was gentle now, almost a whisper. ‘What’s hurting, Stu?’

He raised his right hand as if to fend her off. ‘It’s nothing. A touch of the flu coming on, maybe.’

But then his hand went to his other arm and gripped it.

‘You’ve got pain in your left arm? Any in your chest?’

Stuart didn’t respond. Emma stared at him, a knot of fear taking root in her belly as she took in the way the colour was fading from his face to leave it looking grey and the beads of perspiration appearing on his forehead.

‘On the bed,’ she said. ‘You’re not going anywhere until I’ve done a twelve lead ECG.’

‘There’s no need to fuss...I’ll just sit for a moment.’ He perched on the side of the bed. Was it her imagination or was Stuart sounding slightly out of breath? ‘There was an ambulance pulling up as I came in...you’ll be needed...’

‘I’m needed here.’ Emma took a step towards the door and leaned out. ‘Alistair?’

His head appeared through a gap in a nearby curtain. Behind him, Emma could see the doors sliding open again as paramedics wheeled in a stretcher.

‘You take the lead on the boy in status epilepticus. I’m going to be busy in here for a few minutes. Call if you need me.’

Turning back, she was relieved to see that Stuart was now properly on the bed, lying back on the pillows.

‘Sorry about this, lass,’ he murmured. ‘It’s the last thing you need when you’re due to go off shift.’

‘The last thing I need,’ Emma said quietly, ‘is for you to be unwell. I’m not leaving until we find out what’s going on.’ She reached for a plastic mask and tubing that she attached to the overhead port. ‘Here...let’s give you some oxygen.’

A nurse came into the room, clearly on a mission to find something, and stopped in her tracks. ‘Oh, no...what’s happened to Dr Cameron?’

‘Help him off with his shirt,’ Emma said calmly. ‘I want to get some monitoring dots on. And then get me the twelve lead ECG machine.’

The nurse’s eyes widened. ‘Okay.’

‘What did you come in for?’

‘An intraosseous needle. It looks like it’s going to be a mission to get a line into the little boy that’s just come in.’

‘You get that, then. I’ll do this.’ Emma took over unbuttoning Stuart’s shirt. He had his eyes closed but she could tell by the look on his face how much he was hating this. ‘It’s in the top drawer of the IV cupboard,’ she added. ‘And don’t go telling everybody that Dr Cameron’s in here. Until I say otherwise, this is private.’

‘It’s probably a fuss about nothing,’ Stuart muttered. ‘Bit of indigestion, that’s all...’

Emma had sticky dots on his shoulders and just above his hips. She waited for the interference to clear on the overhead monitor. And then her heart sank.

Stuart opened his eyes. And then shut them again.

‘Guess it’s not indigestion, then...’

‘No.’ Emma swallowed hard. ‘You’ve got significant ST elevation in leads two and three. We’ll know more when I do a twelve lead but this looks like an inferior infarct. Have you had any aspirin today?’

Stuart shook his head.

‘And you probably need some morphine, don’t you?’

This time it was a slow nod.

‘We’ll do that first, then. And bloods. And I’ll get someone to page Cardiology and make sure the catheter laboratory is available.’

Angioplasty was the definitive treatment to unblock the coronary arteries causing this heart attack. It could prevent Stuart being left with any lasting damage. It could also save his life. Emma didn’t want to leave his side. What if he went into cardiac arrest?

But there was a whole raft of things that needed to be done immediately and Emma wasn’t about to let someone else take the lead role in caring for this man.

Stuart Cameron probably should have retired years ago—before Emma had arrived to follow her passion in emergency medicine—but she would be grateful forever that he’d loved his work too much to leave. He was the closest thing she’d had to a father since she’d lost her own when she’d been only sixteen. A father figure, mentor and close friend all rolled into one. He was one of the most important people in her life—the people she truly loved—and that was a group small enough to be counted on the fingers of one hand. Lily, her mum, Jack...and Sarah...

Maybe it was that fleeting thought of Sarah that made the fear kick up a notch. Was history repeating itself? Was she going to lose someone so special that it would feel like the end of the world—on the eve of the day that was all about celebrating exactly those people?

Like she had last year?

No...she couldn’t let that happen.

Maybe it was a blessing that Stuart had ignored any warning signs and come into work. He was in the best place possible to deal with this and she was going to make sure that nothing got in the way of his treatment.

There was no point in trying to keep the news of this crisis away from the staff here now and Emma knew that she was far from the only person who would be desperately worried about Stuart. Within minutes, she had people falling over themselves wanting to help. A nurse was rushing blood samples away to be tested and a technician was capturing a twelve lead ECG trace. She had given Stuart pain relief herself and had also made the call to the cardiology department. It was no surprise that a cardiology consultant came down to the department herself, instead of sending her registrar.

‘Goodness me, Stuart. What kind of Christmas surprise is this?’

‘Not the best kind.’ Stuart’s smile was apologetic and his gaze included Emma. ‘You’ll have to call someone in, lass. Doesn’t look like I’ll be taking over this shift.’

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Emma told him. ‘It’s all under control.’

It was a white lie. The senior staffing issue for the night was far from under control. Knowing that they were off, most of the doctors had headed out of town for family gatherings. Caroline had been making call after call with no success.

‘Here’s the latest twelve lead.’ She handed a series of graphs to the cardiology consultant. ‘Looks like it’s evolving to include a lateral extension.’

‘Enzymes back yet?’

Emma nodded. She handed over the result sheet, reluctant to voice the figures that would tell Stuart just how serious this heart attack was looking.

‘We’re all ready for you upstairs,’ the consultant told Stuart. ‘And I’m going to do your angioplasty myself.’

‘I’ll bet you were supposed to be heading home by now, too.’

She just smiled at her colleague. ‘Consider this my Christmas gift to you, my friend. I’ve never forgotten how kind you were to my father when he came in here with his stroke all those years ago.’

Emma took hold of Stuart’s hand and squeezed it for a moment as the orderly unlocked the brakes on the bed and prepared to start moving him.

‘It’ll be okay,’ she told him. ‘I’ll come up and see you as soon as you’re in CCU.’

‘No you won’t. You’ll be home with your Lily by then.’ He gave her fingers a return squeeze. ‘You need to be away from this place tonight, love. I know how hard it must be...’

Emma had to blink against the sudden sting of tears.

‘I’m doing fine,’ she whispered. ‘Thanks to you...’

There was so much more she could have said. So much she would want to say—just in case this was the last chance she would ever have—but the bed was moving already.

‘I’ll call you when we’re through,’ the consultant said as she left. ‘Try not to worry—he’s going to get our platinum service.’

Emma was left standing in the empty space where the bed had been. Littered around her were the plastic wrappers from syringes and IV supplies. The top of a glass drug ampoule was still spinning after being knocked and an ECG electrode was stuck to the floor where it had been dropped. There were no Christmas decorations in here because it had been deemed inappropriate for patients—and their families—who might be facing an unsuccessful conclusion to a life-threatening crisis.

She could hear the sounds of a busy—and very well decorated—department just through the doors. Clearly, the first of the alcohol-related injuries were arriving, judging by the raised voices and the loud, tuneless singing of a Christmas carol that was happening out there.

It was only then that she realised she was standing in the same resus area that she’d been in last Christmas Eve. Where she’d had to sit and hold the hand of her best friend as Sarah had taken her last breaths.

She couldn’t hold back the tears by blinking now. Turning, she ripped some paper towels from the dispenser by the sink and pressed them to her face.

Only a few minutes ago, she’d been blessed by one of those jewels of excitement but now she was teetering on the edge of that dark space she never wanted to enter again.

It was all going wrong.

There would be no decorating the Christmas tree tonight and attaching those very special ornaments to the top. How many tears had been quietly shed as she’d crafted those two little felt angels—a mummy one and a daddy one—in memory of Lily’s parents? Putting them in pride of place at the top of the tree and sharing a moment of remembrance was going to be a new, private Christmas tradition just for her special little family.

Like kisses for Kissmas.

She wouldn’t be hanging up the stocking that she had embroidered Lily’s name on, either. No putting carrots out for the reindeer. No squeezy cuddles or sticky kisses to make everything seem worthwhile.

And no Jack, either.

Had she really thought that this anniversary might be the one thing that would persuade him to come back?

To see Lily, at least?

She’d been hoping for far too much. But right now, it didn’t seem to matter. She needed to refocus those hopes and give them all to Stuart for the next few hours. Knowing that he was going to be all right was the only Christmas magic she needed now.

‘You okay, Emma?’

‘Mmm.’ A quick swipe with the paper towels and Emma was ready to turn around. ‘How’s it going, Caroline?’

‘Not good, I’m sorry. I can’t find anyone to come in. Alistair’s going to stay on, though, and I can probably find an extra registrar from somewhere. We’ve cancelled our drinks. Nobody’s really in the mood anymore...’

‘I’ll stay,’ Emma told her.

‘But—’

‘There’s no way I’m going home until I hear how Stuart’s doing and by then Lily will be fast asleep, so I may as well stay until the morning crew gets here.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure. I just need to ring Mum and let her know what’s happening.’

She was getting good at these white lies, wasn’t she? Emma wasn’t at all sure about this. It would mean she would still be in the department late this evening and how hard was it going to be not to remember every agonising detail about last year?

But she didn’t have a choice.

Any more than she had had a year ago, when she’d given that solemn promise to Sarah.

She’d coped since then. And she would cope now.

Because that was how things had to be.

* * *

Man, it was cold...

Despite the full leather gear and a state-of-the-art helmet, Jack Reynolds was beginning to feel like he was frozen to the seat of the powerful motorbike beneath him.

It was time he took a break but he was so close now. In less than an hour he’d be hitting the outskirts of Glasgow and then he could find his motel and thaw out with a long, hot shower.

And tomorrow, he’d do something he’d sworn he’d never do.

He would celebrate Christmas.

Well...maybe celebrate wasn’t exactly the right word. This journey was more like the world’s biggest apology.

He just happened to have a brightly wrapped gift in the pannier of his bike that the sales assistant in Hamleys—London’s best toy shop—had assured him would be perfect for an eighteen-month-old child. The little girl he hadn’t seen in nearly a year.

His goddaughter.

And his niece...

A wave of the sensation that had grown from a flicker, that had been all too easy to bury months ago, to its current unpleasant burn generated a warmth that Jack would rather not be feeling right now, despite the chill of the wind seeping into his bones.

An unfamiliar feeling that he could only identify as shame.

Who knew that grief could mess with your head enough to turn you into someone you couldn’t even recognise?

How painful was it to start realising how much that could have hurt others?

At least Lily was too young to have been affected by it, but what on earth was he going to say to Emma to try and start mending bridges?

He’d been unbelievably selfish, hadn’t he?

It had been all about him. He’d lost his twin brother, Ben, in that dreadful accident and it had felt as if more than half of himself had died that night.

But Emma had lost Sarah, who’d been her best friend forever, and they’d been as close as sisters. Closer than most sisters, probably. What had given him the right to think his loss had been greater?

The traffic was building up as the M74 into Glasgow bypassed the township of Uddingston. Somewhere in the darkness to the left the river Clyde was shadowing his route into the city he’d never really expected to see again. He’d turned his back on everything there—and everyone—when he’d walked out all those months ago.

The rain spattering his visor felt different now. There was a sludgy edge to it that was making visibility worse than it had been and the lights of the vehicles around him were blurred and fragmented. Signposts warned of the major road changes ahead where the M73 joined the M74.

That was where it had happened, wasn’t it?

Where Ben and Sarah had had the accident that had claimed their lives exactly a year ago today?

Almost to the minute...

There was a new burning sensation now, behind his eyes this time, and he recognised that feeling.

It had been only a couple of weeks ago. In the burning heat of an African summer, when one of his colleagues had started reminiscing about English winters. About Christmas...

He could have sworn that Ben was right beside him, giving him one of those none-too-gentle elbow nudges in his ribs. Saying the words that had been the last thing his brother had ever said to him.

‘See you tomorrow, bro. For once, you’re going to enjoy Christmas. Me and Sarah and Lily...we’re going to show you what Christmas is all about. Family...’

It hadn’t been the first time he’d found a private spot with the view of nothing but desert but it had been the first time in forever that he’d cried. Gut-wrenching sobs that had been torn from his soul. And that was why he recognised this painful stinging sensation at the back of his eyes.

It couldn’t happen now. Not in heavy traffic and with what looked like sleet getting thicker by the second. There was an exit lane ahead and he needed to change lanes and make sure he was well clear of any idiot who might decide to take the exit unexpectedly.

Like that dodgy-looking small truck that was crossing the line directly in front of him.

Tilting his body weight, after checking there was a gap in the lane beside him, Jack flipped on his indicator and glanced over his shoulder again to check the lane was still clear.

Where the hell had that car come from? And what did it think it was doing?

No-o-o...

* * *

Text messages had been frequent over the last hour, including one that accompanied an adorable photo of Lily, bundled up like a little Eskimo in her puffy, pink jacket, with tinsel in her dark curls, crouching down to put an enormous carrot beside a bucket of water. Emma could see the ropes of the swing hanging from the branch of the old oak tree in the garden in the background so she knew exactly where the bucket had been placed.

Exactly where she should have been, too.

Just as well she was too busy to dwell on the unexpected turn her evening had taken.

The waiting room was crowded but the curtained cubicles were all full right now. Every doctor had several patients to cover and Emma was trying to keep herself mobile so she could help wherever she was needed. She just had to decide on the priority as she looked at the list on the glass board.

It wouldn’t be the drunk in Curtain Eight who’d been punched in the nose and had a septal haematoma that needed draining. Or the teenager that had downed enough alcohol at a work Christmas party to collapse. Someone else could supervise the administration of activated charcoal there. Was it the young woman with epigastric pain in Curtain Four? The dislocated shoulder in Curtain Two that needed sedation and relocation? That was a task that needed quite a lot of physical strength sometimes so she might need to wait until Alistair had a free moment, and he was busy sorting pain relief for that nasty foot fracture that had come in a little while ago when an elderly man had fallen from the ladder he was using to hang twinkly lights in a garden tree.

The X-rays were up on the screen beside her and Emma couldn’t help leaning in for a closer look. A Lisfranc fracture and a fracture/dislocation of at least two other joints. This patient was going to need some urgent orthopaedic management as soon as pain relief was on board and a plaster back-slab applied. He’d need to be kept nil by mouth, too, in case a theatre slot became available.

The baby, Emma decided. The one with the rash that looked like a bad reaction to antibiotics. She’d just pop her head into the side room and check that something had been given to settle the miserable infant and calm its mother.

And she wouldn’t look at the clock on the way.

It was getting too close to that time.

The moment her world had started to fall apart this time last year. When those sliding doors had opened for two stretchers to be rolled in amongst a team of paramedics that all had the grim faces that advertised how bad this accident had been. With the policeman behind them carrying a baby in its car seat.

Not that she had had any idea of how bad this really was. Neither had Jack, who was standing in one of the resus rooms, having been summoned as the orthopaedic component of the major trauma team that had gathered to receive the victims of the MVA out on the M74.

The injuries had been so bad, he hadn’t even recognised his twin brother in those first minutes. It had been Emma who recognised Sarah on the second stretcher. Still conscious. Asking over and over whether Lily was all right and where was Ben?

She’d had to go into Resus One. Just as Stuart was shaking his head before he glanced up at the clock.

‘Time of death, twenty-two thirty-five...’

‘Jack?’ It had been so hard to get the words out. ‘Jack...? I think...I think this might be Ben...I’m so, so sorry...’

Later, she’d wondered if he’d already guessed but had been too shocked to process the information. You’d think that the kind of connection between twins would make it plausible but Jack and Ben had been opposite sides of the same coin, hadn’t they? Ben was the quiet one. The responsible one. The perfect husband and father material that Sarah couldn’t believe how lucky she’d been to find.

Jack might have mirrored his brother’s career in medicine and achieved even greater popularity and success but he was the wild one of the pair.

She’d been warned by Sarah to stay away from him.

Jack had been warned by Ben to stay away from her.

Not that their disobedience had mattered in the end, because any connection as far as Jack was concerned had evaporated in the instant she’d passed on that devastating news.

It was another thing she’d lost that night...

* * *

Emma sucked in a deep breath. The noises around her seem to be amplified for a moment as she dragged herself back to the present. People shouting. Babies crying. A shriek of pain. Phones ringing. An ambulance call coming through on the radio. Caroline should have gone home ages ago but she was still there, fielding the calls.

‘Go ahead, Rescue Seven. Reading you loud and clear. Over...’

‘We’re coming to you with a thirty-six-year-old male, result of a motorbike accident on the M74. Query chest injury. Multiple contusions. Query fracture left tib/fib. Vital signs as follows: GCS fifteen, heart rate one-twenty...’

Breathe, Emma told herself. Without thinking, she reached up to touch her hair, finding the inevitable tight curl that had sprung free from its clip and making sure it was trapped again. It was an action that always made her feel that little bit more in control.

This was just another accident. Not even a particularly serious one, by the sound of things, but she wasn’t going to take anything for granted.

‘I’ll be in Resus One,’ she told Caroline.

‘Want me to activate the trauma team?’

A GCS of fifteen meant that the victim was conscious and alert. Okay, he might have a chest injury but he was breathing well enough for the moment. Part of her job in charge of this department was to make sure she used potentially limited extra resources as wisely as possible.

‘Not yet. I’ll take a look at him first. How far away are they?’

‘About five minutes.’

Emma couldn’t help glancing up at the clock as she walked into Resus One and pulled on a disposable gown and some gloves.

Twenty-two thirty. It would probably be twenty-two thirty-five as they rolled the stretcher in.

Breathe, she reminded herself again, as she heard the whoosh of the ambulance bay doors.

Alistair came in and grabbed a gown, closely followed by a nurse. And then the stretcher arrived. Nothing could have prompted Emma to take a breath when she saw who was on the stretcher. The opposite happened as her body and brain both froze. There was just enough breath left to utter a single, horrified word.

‘Jack...?’

CHAPTER TWO

THE JOY CAME from nowhere.

It caught her in that moment when Jack opened his eyes and his startled gaze met her own. When she saw the flare of recognition and something more... Relief that he was in a place he knew he’d be cared for? Or was it because he wanted to see her? Was it the reason he’d finally come back?

It only lasted a heartbeat, that joy, but in that instant, every cell in Emma’s body was singing.

He’s come back...

Jack’s here...

But following so closely on the heels of joy that it morphed with it and then took over was fear.

He’s hurt...

Maybe badly hurt...

She could see the lines of pain etched on his face and in the way he was pressing his lips together as he closed his eyes again.

This might be the biggest challenge of her career so far in not allowing emotional involvement to interfere with delivering clinical excellence but, to her surprise, Emma found she was up for it.

It was a relief, even, to turn away from such overpowering feelings to something she knew she could handle. The paramedic who was giving a rapid but thorough handover had her full attention.

‘High-speed collision. Mr Reynolds got cut off by someone coming into his lane. He swerved, apparently, but lost control of the bike. GCS is fifteen but he may have been KO’d briefly. I suspect the bike landed on his left leg. We’ve splinted the possible tib/fib fracture there. The chest injury may have come from contact with the handlebars. One sleeve of his jacket got ripped so there’s road rash and a potential fracture on his left forearm.’

‘Got his helmet?’

‘Yes. Superficial damage but it’s not broken.’

Emma nodded. She listened to the quick summary of the most recent vital signs and glanced at the monitor, which was showing a rapid but normal heart rhythm. His oxygen saturation level was also good.

‘Let’s get him on the bed.’

As lead physician, it was Emma’s job to be at the head end of their patient. The ambulance crew had put a neck collar on Jack, quite correctly assuming that the mechanism of injury could mean he had a spinal injury, so she had to ensure that the transfer from stretcher to bed did not do anything to risk making it worse. Having the paramedics here was helpful in having enough people to do the job well.

‘Three on each side, please. On my count...’ Emma put her hands on either side of Jack’s head. Mostly, all she could feel was the plastic collar but at the base of her hands she could feel the warmth of his scalp. The softness of that shaggy black hair...

‘One...two...three...’

A smooth transfer. Emma had a moment to scan her patient and assess his airway as her colleagues went into a well-rehearsed routine.

Alistair was unhooking the leads of the ambulance monitor to replace them with their own. A nurse had a pair of shears in her hands.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to cut the rest of your leathers...’

Jack nodded, but didn’t say anything. His eyes were still shut.

‘Keep your head still,’ Emma reminded him. ‘We haven’t cleared your neck, yet. Your sats are good but are you having any trouble breathing?’

‘No.’

She hadn’t expected the effect that hearing his voice again would have. She had to swallow past the lump that appeared suddenly in her throat and felt like a rock.

‘Sinus tachycardia,’ Alistair said. ‘Blood pressure’s one-thirty on eighty.’

Probably higher than normal for Jack.

‘What’s your pain score?’ she queried. The paramedics had already given him some morphine but maybe it hadn’t been enough. She didn’t need to give Jack the usual range of zero to ten to pick from, with zero being no pain and ten the worst ever. He knew.

‘About five, I guess. Maybe six.’

‘Let’s top up the morphine,’ she directed Alistair, as she hooked her stethoscope into her ears. ‘I’m going to have a listen to your chest,’ she told Jack.

His chest was bare. The leather jacket had been unzipped and the black T-shirt beneath had been cut. His skin was far more tanned than Emma had ever seen but that whorl of dark hair was exactly the same. And she knew exactly what it would feel like against the silk of his skin, if it had been her fingers rather than the disc of her stethoscope she was pressing against it.

Oh, help... Maybe she should stand back and let Alistair take over here? Or call in part of the trauma team? They were probably going to need at least an orthopaedic consult but that should probably wait until the necessary X-rays and other tests had been done.

Alistair was drawing up the morphine. He held the ampoule so that Emma could do the drug check. Her nod was brisk. Happy with Jack’s breath sounds, she wanted to start a neurological check. The potential head injury was high on her list of concerns.

‘You know where you are, Jack?’

One side of his mouth curled into that ironic smile she remembered so well.

‘Oh, yeah... Unless the Eastern got shifted recently?’

‘And can you tell me what date it is today?’

The smile vanished and Emma knew, with what felt like a kick in her gut, that the pain in his eyes had nothing to do with his injuries. It was a standard question but how insensitive was it, given these particular circumstances?

‘It’s Christmas Eve,’ Jack said softly. ‘I’m...I’m sorry, Red.’

The old nickname, bestowed in honour of her wild, auburn hair, was almost her undoing.

Nobody else called her ‘Red’. Never had, never would...

Not even Sarah. She used to make Emma laugh when they were kids by calling her the ‘Ginger Ninja’ and there was nobody else in her life that would dream of doing that.

This time, the lump had jagged edges and there was no way of stopping the sting that got to the back of her eyes.

‘I’m sure you didn’t do this on purpose.’ Her voice sounded odd, coming from around the edges of that lump. ‘I’m sorry, too.’ She gathered some strength she didn’t know she had. ‘But don’t worry—we’re going to look after you.’

The nurse had finished cutting the leather of his bike pants and was working on the sleeves of his jacket. She had to pause while Alistair flushed the IV line, after injecting the painkiller.

‘I’ll draw some bloods,’ Alistair said. ‘Including an ETOH level?’

‘I haven’t been drinking.’ Jack’s words sounded a little slurred but his face had relaxed a bit, suggesting that his pain level—which Emma suspected he had under-reported—was dropping, so it was quite likely the morphine was making him sleepy.

Alistair’s look said it all. The slurred words were no surprise. This was Jack Reynolds, wasn’t it?

A flash of anger caught Emma unawares. Okay, Jack had left here under a huge cloud but there’d been a reason for that, hadn’t there? A reason big enough to make it, if not forgivable, at least enough to offer the benefit of doubt now.

The nurse cutting away clothing had caught the look and her eyebrows rose.

‘This is Mr Reynolds,’ Alistair told her. ‘He used to work here. He was one of our orthopaedic surgeons.’

‘Oh...’ The young nurse looked impressed. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Reynolds...about having to cut your leathers. I know how expensive they are.’

‘It really doesn’t matter,’ Jack muttered. ‘And call me Jack. I’m not at work at the moment.’

Emma caught her breath. Was he planning to be at work in the near future? Was that why he’d come back? But why would he choose today, of all days, to come back to Glasgow?

But then again...why wouldn’t he?

One of the junior doctors who had joined the team had taken off the dressing that covered Jack’s arm injury.

‘Can you wiggle your fingers for me, Jack?’

Emma was still holding her breath. The scraped skin looked raw and painful but if he’d broken bones it could affect his future as a surgeon and that might destroy what had always been the most important thing in his life. Jack Reynolds might still be seen as a badly behaved maverick by some—Alistair, for instance—but nobody had ever had anything other than praise to offer about his work as the rising star of the orthopaedic surgical department. Ironically, he’d been heading towards specialist trauma work and had been the best available for injuries that had the potential to seriously affect someone’s quality of life. Like neck fractures or mangled hands.

She released the breath in a sigh of relief as she saw the way Jack was able to move his hand. And he could make a fist and resist pressure without it causing undue pain in his arm so it was unlikely that any bones had been broken.

He might not be so lucky with that lower leg injury that Alistair was assessing. The nasty haematoma on his calf could well be the result of an underlying fracture and it was causing some pain to try and move his foot.

Neither of those injuries was in any way life-threatening, however. Emma was more concerned about the bruising on Jack’s ribs and whether he had a head injury. Despite the protection of a helmet, if he’d hit his head hard enough to lose consciousness, even briefly, he was very likely to have a concussion and possibly something worse, like a bleed, going on.

‘Take a deep breath for me, Jack. Is it painful?’ Emma put her hand over skin that was mottled with early bruising.

‘A bit.’

‘We’ll get some X-rays done soon. You might have broken a few ribs. Let me know if you get short of breath at all.’

‘I’m fine.’ Jack had closed his eyes again. ‘The department looked busy out there. You must have patients who are worse off than me.’

Emma ignored the comment. And the look that Alistair flicked in her direction. He knew. Not about how close she’d been to Jack, of course—keeping that a secret had been part of the excitement—and he hadn’t actually been in the department this time last year but there would be very few people in this hospital who hadn’t heard every single detail about the heartbreaking tragedy she and Jack had been so much a part of. The aftermath had been the hot topic for gossip for weeks as well. And everybody knew how much Emma’s life had changed when she’d finally taken responsibility for Lily.

Maybe Alistair thought she should step out. That she would prefer not to be caring for Jack after those traumatic weeks that had ended in a battle that everyone believed Jack had deserved to lose.

She couldn’t let him—or anyone else—know just how far from the truth that was. Her next words came out a little more sternly than was probably warranted.

‘Don’t move your head. I’m undoing the collar so I can have a feel of your neck.’

* * *

Jack couldn’t see Emma because she was standing behind his head.

But he could feel her.

Not just the obvious touch of her fingers on his neck as she pressed her thumbs on each side of his spine, putting systematic, gentle pressure down the midline to check for the presence of tenderness before moving further from the midline to repeat the process.

No. He could feel her in a much more ethereal sense. He hadn’t known which hospital he was being transported to after the accident and he hadn’t been feeling that great when he’d arrived, but even with his eyes shut, he’d known that Emma was in the room.

He had felt something of that aura of determination and genuine caring that made Emma Matthews stand out in any crowd of equally intelligent and successful medics.

And then he’d opened his eyes and she looked exactly the same. Those bright hazel eyes. The matching freckles sprinkled over a button of a nose. Jack could even see the usual coils of that astonishing hair that had wormed their way out from beneath the prisons of their clips.

It hit him like a brick. All that time he’d been away, he’d been so convinced that he didn’t miss her. That she was just another one of the stream of women that had shared his life—and his bed—for a limited time.

But he had been missing her, hadn’t he? Every minute of every day. And all that accumulated emotion coalesced into one king punch that was far more painful than anything going on in his battered body at that moment. He’d had to press his lips together against the pain. Screw his eyes tightly shut so that he didn’t keep staring at her and making the pain worse.

And now she was touching him and it made him remember how clever those small hands were. How gentle Emma was.

How the touch on his skin made it feel like he was being caressed by a whisper of a delicious, cool breeze on the hottest day ever. That coolness had been an illusion, though, hadn’t it? It could flick in a heartbeat to a heat that no other woman had ever evoked.

Jack had to stifle a groan. The morphine was clearly scrambling his brain. He shouldn’t be thinking of something like that. It was over. Dead and buried. And he’d been the one to kill it.

Emma must have heard the small sound. ‘What’s hurting?’ she asked. ‘What’s bothering you?’

Oh...that was a question and a half. Would she actually want to know about the guilt over abandoning his brother’s child that had been hanging around his neck like an ever-increasing weight?

The shame of the way he’d behaved in those dark days? The way he’d treated her?

Even if she was prepared to listen to him, it would have to be a very private conversation and there were others around. He could feel the sting of the damaged skin on his arm being cleaned and redressed. Of his lower leg being unwrapped from its temporary splint. And he could hear the voices of new arrivals—the radiographers, probably—who would be preparing to operate the overhead X-ray machines.

‘Is it your neck? Was it here?’ Her fingers were pressing again on the last spot she’d touched at the bottom of his cervical spine.

‘No...my neck feels fine.’

‘Really?’ Emma’s face appeared as she moved to one side of the bed. So close to his own he could see those unusual golden flecks in the soft brown of her irises. ‘And you really haven’t been drinking?’

That hurt. He might have been a complete bastard in those last weeks but he’d never been less than honest with her. With anyone, for that matter.

He saw the flicker in her eyes. ‘Sorry...I just needed to be sure.’

‘Yeah...you always were very thorough, Dr Matthews. It’s a commendable attribute.’

That earned a tilt of her lips that was almost a smile. ‘There’s a checklist for determining whether a cervical spine is stable, as you well know. You don’t seem to have any midline tenderness and there’s no evidence of intoxication. You seem to be reasonably alert and oriented to time and place.’

Jack could feel his own lips curve. ‘Cheers. Under the circumstances, I’ll take reasonably alert as a good thing.’

Emma unclipped her small pen torch from the top pocket of her scrubs tunic and flicked the light on. Jack kept his eyes open and stared straight ahead as she moved the beam to check his pupil sizes and reactions.

‘Equal and reactive,’ she said. ‘There’s only one other thing on the checklist. Do you remember what it is?’

Clever. She was throwing in something completely different as another check on his neurological status.

‘Whether there are any painful, distracting injuries, like a long bone fracture.’

‘And is anything painful enough to qualify as a distraction?’

‘No.’

‘Mmm... Okay, then, I reckon you pass.’ She looked away from him to someone he couldn’t see. ‘I’m happy to leave the collar off but I’d still like a cervical X-ray series, please. Along with chest, pelvis, left tib/fib and the left forearm.’

‘Do you want a lead apron?’ someone queried.

Emma shook her head, looking down at Jack again. ‘I’m happy that your condition hasn’t deteriorated in any way. I’m going to duck out and get up to speed with what’s happening in the rest of the department until I get your X-rays up on the computer. I won’t be far away and someone will come and get me if I’m needed.’

Jack nodded. He closed his eyes as he did so because he didn’t want Emma to see how much he would have preferred for her to stay here.

He had no right to put any kind of pressure on her.

About anything.

* * *

Alistair had beaten her to the patient board and he was frowning as he scanned the changes that the last ten minutes or so had produced.

‘We’ve got to clear some space,’ he said. ‘Waiting times are getting to an unacceptable level.’

‘I’ll see if we can get another registrar or two on board.’

‘We’ve got an ambulance arriving in the next few minutes,’ Caroline warned them. ‘And the police. Sounds like a turf war broke out between a couple of Santas selling hats or something.’ She tried to suppress a grin. ‘Could be serious. One of them got stabbed, by the sound of things.’

‘I’ll take it,’ Alistair said. ‘But do you want me to help with that dislocated shoulder in Curtain Two first? He’s been waiting a while.’

‘I’ll get one of the housemen. It’s only brute strength required.’ One of the junior doctors—a young Australian called Pete—was heading towards her, in fact, but Emma didn’t get the chance to speak first.

‘Can I get you to have a look at my patient when you’ve got a minute? Twenty-nine-year-old with epigastric pain but I don’t know if it warrants a scan.’ Pete was frowning. ‘There’s something about her I just can’t put my finger on.’

It didn’t sound too urgent. ‘Can she wait for a bit? I need you to help me get a shoulder back in. Set up a sedation trolley in Curtain Two and I’ll be with you shortly.’ She paused beside one of the bank of computer screens available to call up patient records, check test results and review X-rays. The first digital image from the resuscitation room Jack was in had come through. A chest X-ray.

Emma peered at the screen as she zoomed in and hovered over the area that was so bruised. There didn’t seem to be any broken ribs. This was good. Maybe she could stop worrying about the possibility of a pneumothorax and a sudden deterioration in Jack’s ability to breathe.

Another worry resurfaced in the wake of that relief. Picking up the desk phone, she punched in an internal number.

‘CCU, Charge Nurse speaking.’

‘Hi, Steve. It’s Emma Matthews here, from ED. Any word on Stuart Cameron yet?’

‘They’re just finishing up in the cath lab. He’s had three stents put in. Apparently there was a hundred percent occlusion of his left main stem. ECG changes are resolving already, though, so he’s been incredibly lucky.’

‘Oh...thank goodness...’ The wave of relief was enough to make Emma’s legs feel wobbly.

‘We’re expecting him in here shortly. We’ve got the private suite ready.’

Emma smiled. ‘Tell him I’ll be up to visit the moment I get a break.’

‘How’s it looking down there?’

‘Usual festive season chaos. A surprise around every corner.’

Ending the call, Emma went to find Pete, who was waiting for her outside Curtain Two, alongside a pretty young nurse.

‘Really?’ Emma heard him say. ‘He turned up at work drunk? When he had a theatre list waiting?’

‘That’s not the worst of it,’ the nurse responded. ‘He was the legal guardian of his baby niece—her only living relative—and he just walked away...’

‘No way...’

They had their backs to her so they hadn’t noticed Emma approaching. Maybe the nurse was carried away by having something that had captured an attractive new doctor’s attention so completely. She leaned in closer.

‘Nobody’s heard a peep from him since and that was nearly a year ago.’

‘So why has he come back now?’

‘Who knows? Maybe he’s come back to claim her finally.’

Emma stopped in her tracks. She could feel the blood draining out of her head, leaving a nasty spinning sensation.

She’d thought he might have come back to see Lily.

To see her, even.

Or even that he might have been planning to work here again.

But to have come back to claim guardianship of the only living member of his family?

It made sense.

Sickening, terrifying sense, because it wouldn’t be the first time...

She could actually hear those furious words. ‘She’s my brother’s child. Now she’s mine.’

It also made her angry.

‘I hate to break up the party,’ she snapped, ‘but I’m sure you’ve both noticed how busy this department is at the moment. Let’s get on with doing the jobs we’re being paid to do, shall we?’

The pair jumped apart, the nurse’s face reddening as she fled. Emma ignored Pete’s muttered apology. The anger was still there. They wouldn’t be the only people gossiping in corners tonight after the dramatic reappearance of Jack Reynolds and no doubt they’d be picking over her own part as one of the major players in what had been a series of events worthy of a soap opera’s plotline.

Most of the anger was directed elsewhere, however, and it came from a place of fear.

Everybody knew she was Lily’s mother in every way it was possible to be a mother, other than having given birth to her precious little girl. But legally she was no more than a godparent. No formal adoption process had ever been initiated. How could it have been when her legal guardian had simply vanished?

Would she have enough grounds to fight if Jack really had come back to claim Lily?

Relocating a shoulder was the perfect task for Emma right now. With her patient well sedated, it needed careful positioning and then an intense physical effort to pull the arm hard enough to create the space for the ball of the joint to slip back into its socket. She had been going to ask Pete to do it but instead she had him stabilise the patient’s body while she did it.

There was always satisfaction in hearing the joint click back into place but this time what was even better was the release of that angry tension that had settled in Emma’s belly like a stone. By the time she headed back to the computer to check the rest of Jack’s images, she was feeling a great deal calmer.

For a moment, though, the images on the screen were blurry.

She was back in time again. Sitting beside the bed of someone she loved so dearly and they had both known that they had very little time.

‘Promise me, Em. Promise me that you’ll take care of her.’

Sarah’s breathing had been becoming rapidly more laboured and there had been nothing they could do.

‘Jack would be a disaster. He’s irresponsible... He’s never even wanted a family...’

‘I promise...’

How hard had it been to hold back her tears?

‘Cross your heart and hope to die?’

The old childhood vow. The one that could never be broken.

Not that Emma had been able to repeat the words. She had only been able to nod. And smile. And squeeze Sarah’s hand so hard it would have hurt if she hadn’t already been beyond feeling pain...

It took a huge effort to shake off the distressing flashback. To focus on the images in front of her. Amazingly, Jack hadn’t broken any bones, probably thanks to the well-padded leather gear with its built-in body armour. All that was needed was treatment of the soft-tissue injuries and observation for long enough to be sure that there was no head injury being missed.

Taking a deep breath, Emma went back to Jack’s room. The radiographers had gone and the nurse who had stayed with Jack was peering wide-eyed around the door as stretchers surrounded by police officers as well as paramedics came through the ambulance bay doors. That the patients on the stretchers were in red and white Santa suits only made the spectacle even more riveting. Alistair and the small team he had gathered were waiting in front of the other resuscitation area.

‘You go,’ Emma told the nurse. ‘They’ll need extra hands. And call me if I’m needed.’

‘What’s going on out there?’ Jack had a pillow under his head now but he was trying to prop himself further up on the elbow of his uninjured arm. ‘Sounds like something major.’

Emma stepped closer. The fear—and the anger—had resurfaced on seeing Jack’s face. It made no difference how much she loved this man. She would fight to the death if she had to, to protect what was most important.

‘I won’t let you do it,’ she said quietly. ‘Not this time.’

Jack looked bewildered. ‘Do what?’

Emma swallowed hard. ‘I won’t let you take Lily away from me.’

CHAPTER THREE

YOU’D HAVE TO know Emma well to see the fear beneath the fury of the words she had just bitten out.

Jack knew Emma very well.

He could see the fear and he hated himself for having been the person who’d caused it. He had to put this right. Fast.

‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he said quietly. ‘Do you really think that’s why I’ve come back?’

The shake of her head was sharp enough for another curl to escape its clip. Emma took a step closer to the bed. Because the wide door of this area was ajar, the noises of the department were still there, but they were no more than a background buzz. It wouldn’t matter how quietly Emma spoke, he would still be able to hear every word because that was all that mattered in this moment.

‘How would I know?’

Jack could hear the edge of tears roughening her words and could see the way she was fighting for control by the ragged breath she sucked in. He could also see that she had something else to say, so he remained silent.

He watched the way Emma composed herself. A long, hard blink and a swallow that looked painful by the jerky movement of the muscles in her neck. When she opened her eyes again, she was staring down at her hands—as if it was too hard to meet his gaze.

‘I’ve been waiting, Jack,’ she said softly. ‘For nearly a year, I’ve been waiting for you to come back. I’ve shut my ears to everything people have said and held on to the belief that one day, it would happen.’ Her head shake was slower this time and she must have felt the tickle of the errant curl because her hand went up to smooth it away from her face. ‘I’ve been hoping—every day—that this might be the day I’d hear something...’

Making Emma scared had made Jack feel like a bastard but this was worse. Much worse.

She’d been thinking of him every day? Hoping he would do the right thing and come back?

What had other people been saying? That he was gone for good and maybe that was for the best?

Maybe it would have been better if he hadn’t come back...

‘And today, of all days...’ Emma’s voice was little more than a whisper. ‘When the memories were ambushing me around every corner. You come back with no warning and...and you come back looking like you might be nearly dead?’

Her bottom lip wobbled and it was too much.

She cared about him, didn’t she?

Really cared...

Apart from the memory of his mother that had no more than a dreamlike quality now, there had only ever been one other person that had felt like that about him and, in a way, Ben’s death had given him freedom. There was nobody to worry about him. If he kept it that way, it would work both ways and he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else. Or face the agony of having them torn from his life.

But, for some unfathomable reason, Emma cared...

And, like it or not, he cared about her, didn’t he? He wouldn’t be feeling this wretched if he didn’t.

Jack stretched out his hand but he couldn’t quite reach hers. He left it there, hanging, in midair. For a moment, he was aware of an increased urgency in the sounds coming from outside the door—from the resuscitation area right next door to this one—but then he shut it out again. This was more important.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m really sorry, Red.’

There was a long, long moment of utter stillness then. He knew Emma was looking at his hand—trying to decide whether she wanted to touch him in a capacity that had nothing to do with his medical care?

He wanted that touch. It might be the only thing that could give him any hope that he could put any of this right. He leaned into his arm, stretching it a little bit further, and he turned his hand over, to offer his palm.

‘Careful...you’ll pull out your IV line.’

But Emma had caught his hand and, after she’d stepped closer to take the tension off the narrow plastic tube, she didn’t let it go. Jack curled his fingers around hers, willing her to look up and meet his gaze.

When she did, he almost wished she hadn’t. He was enveloped in something that felt like anguish.

‘Why did you come back today, Jack?’

‘Because...because it’s Christmas,’ he said, his voice catching on the last word.

‘But you hate Christmas...we all knew how much you hate it... That was why Sarah and Ben were bringing Lily to Glasgow. They knew you’d never go to see them in London.’ Emma’s words were tumbling out. And her eyes were widening, as if she was realising something horrific for the first time.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.