MIDWIVES ON-CALL

Welcome to Melbourne Victoria Hospital—and to the exceptional midwives who make up the Melbourne Maternity Unit!

These midwives in a million work miracles on a daily basis, delivering tiny bundles of joy into the arms of their brand-new mums!

Amidst the drama and emotion of babies arriving at all hours of the day and night, when the shifts are over, somehow there’s still time for some sizzling out-of-hours romance …

Whilst these caring professionals might come face-to-face with a whole lot of love in their line of work, now it’s their turn to find a happy-ever-after of their own!

Midwives On-Call

Midwives, mothers and babies—lives changing for ever …!

Dear Reader,

I was thrilled to be a part of the Midwives On-Call series, and to work alongside some of my favourite authors.

We all have secrets, or sides to ourselves that we might not reveal, and that really is the case with my heroine, Isla—she is outwardly strong, with a demanding job and an exciting social life, but there is a side to her that she lets no one see. I knew it would take a very special hero to discover the real Isla, behind the rather glamorous façade. Alessi is all that and more.

I hope you enjoy Isla and Alessi’s story.

Happy reading!

Carol x

CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form where she was asked for her job title and was thrilled, after all these years, to be able to put down her answer as ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation. After chewing her pen for a moment Carol put down the truth—‘writing’. The third question asked: ‘What are your hobbies?’ Well, not wanting to look obsessed or, worse still, boring, she crossed the fingers on her free hand and answered ‘swimming and tennis’. But, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, and the closest she’s got to a tennis racket in the last couple of years is watching the Australian Open, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

Just One Night?
Carol Marinelli

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Endpage

Copyright

PROLOGUE

‘ISLA …’ THE PANIC and fear was evident in Cathy’s voice. ‘What are all those alarms?’

‘They’re truly nothing to worry about,’ Isla said, glancing over to the anaesthetist and pleased to see that he was changing the alarm settings so as to cause minimal distress to Cathy.

‘Was it about the baby?’

Isla shook her head. ‘It was just letting the anaesthetist know that your blood pressure is a little bit low but we expect that when you’ve been given an epidural.’ Isla sat on a stool at the head of the theatre table and did her best to reassure a very anxious Cathy as her husband, Dan, got changed to come into Theatre and be there for his wife.

‘It’s not the baby that’s making all the alarms go off?’ Cathy checked again.

‘No, everything looks fine with the baby.’

‘I’m so scared, Isla.’

‘I know that you are,’ Isla said as she stroked Cathy’s cheek. ‘But everything is going perfectly.’

This Caesarean section had to go perfectly.

Isla, head nurse at the Melbourne Maternity Unit at the Victoria Hospital, or MMU, as it was more regularly known, had been there for Dan and Cathy during some particularly difficult times. There was little more emotional or more difficult in Isla’s work than delivering a stillborn baby and she had been there twice for Cathy and Dan at such a time. As hard as it was, there was a certain privilege to being there, too—making a gut-wrenching time somehow beautiful, making the birth and the limited time with their baby poignant in a way that the family might only appreciate later.

Cathy and Dan’s journey to parenthood had been hellish. They had undergone several rounds of IVF, had suffered through four miscarriages and there had been two stillbirths which Isla had delivered.

Now, late afternoon on Valentine’s Day, their desperately wanted baby was about to be born.

Cathy had initially been booked in next Thursday for a planned Caesarean section at thirty-seven weeks gestation. However, she had rung the MMU two hours ago to say that she thought she was going into labour and had been told to come straight in.

Cathy had delivered her other babies naturally. Even though the labours had often been long and difficult with a stillborn, it was considered better for the mother to deliver that way.

As head of midwifery, Isla’s job was supposedly nine to five, only she had long since found out that babies ran to their own schedules.

This evening she’d had a budget meeting scheduled which, on the news of Cathy’s arrival, Isla had excused herself from. As well as that, she’d had drinks scheduled at the Rooftop Garden Bar to welcome Alessandro Manos, a neonatologist who was due to start at the Victoria on Monday.

For now it could all simply wait.

There was no way that Isla would miss this birth.

At twenty-eight years of age Isla was young for such a senior position and a lot of people had at first assumed that Isla had got the job simply because her father, Charles Delamere, was the CEO of the Victoria.

They’d soon found out otherwise.

Yes, outside the hospital Isla and her sister Isabel, the obstetrician who was operating on Cathy this evening, were very well known thanks to their prominent family. Glamorous, gorgeous and blonde, the press followed the sisters’ busy lives with interest. There were many functions they were expected to attend and the two women shared a luxurious penthouse and dressed in the latest designer clothes and regularly stepped onto the red carpet.

That was all work to Isla.

The MMU was her passion, though—here she was herself.

She sat now dressed in scrubs, her long blonde hair tucked beneath a pink theatre cap, her full lips hidden behind a mask, and no one cared in the theatre that she was Isla Delamere, Melbourne socialite, apparently dating Rupert, whom she had gone to school with and who was now a famous Hollywood actor.

To everyone here she was simply Isla—strict, fair and loyal. She expected the same focus and attention from her staff that she gave to the patients, and she generally got it. Some thought her cool and aloof but the mothers generally seemed to appreciate her calm professionalism.

‘Here’s Dan.’ Isla smiled as Dan nervously made his way over. He really was an amazing man and had been an incredible support to his wife through the dark times. His tears had been shed in private, he had told Isla, well away from his shocked wife. Many had said he should share the depths of his grief with Cathy but Isla understood why he chose not to.

Sometimes staying strong meant holding back.

‘Dan, I’m sure that something is wrong …’ Cathy said.

Dan glanced over at Isla, who gave him a small, reassuring shake of the head as her eyes told him that everything was fine.

‘Everything is going well, Cathy,’ Dan said. ‘You’re doing an amazing job, so just try and relax …’

‘I can feel something,’ Cathy said in a panicked voice, and Isla stepped in.

‘Do you remember that I said you would feel some tugging?’ Isla reminded her.

‘Cathy!’ Isabel’s voice alerted Isla. ‘Your baby is nearly out—look up at the screen …’

Isla looked up to the green sheets that had been placed so that Cathy could not see the surgery going on on the other side. ‘Your baby is out,’ Isabel said, ‘and looks amazing …’

‘There’s no crying,’ Cathy said.

‘Just wait, Cathy,’ Dan said, his voice reassuring his wife, though the poor man must be terrified.

Even Isla, who was very used to the frequent delay between birth and tears, found that she was holding her breath, though Cathy could never have guessed her midwife’s nerves—Isla hid her emotions extremely well.

And not just from the staff and patients.

‘Cathy!’ Isla said. ‘Look!’

There he was.

Isabel was holding up a beautiful baby boy with a mass of dark, spiky hair. His mouth opened wide and he let out the most ear-piercing scream, absolutely furious to be woken from a lovely sleep, to be born, of all things!

‘He’s beautiful,’ Dan said. ‘Cathy, look how beautiful he is. You did so well, I’m so proud of you.’

The baby was whisked away for a brief check and Isla made her way over as Isabel continued with the surgery.

He really was perfect.

Four weeks early, he was still a nice size and very alert. The paediatrician was happy with him and the theatre midwife wrapped him in a pale cream blanket and popped on a small hat. He would be more thoroughly checked later but that visit to the parents, if well enough, came first.

Isla took the little baby, all warm and crying, into her arms and she felt a huge gush of emotion. She had known that this birth would be emotional, but the feeling of finally being able to hand this gorgeous couple a healthy baby was a special moment indeed.

She held the baby so that Cathy could turn her head and give him a kiss and then Isla placed him on Cathy’s chest as Dan put his arms around his little family.

Isla said nothing. They deserved this time to themselves and she did all she could to make this time as private as a theatre could allow it to be. She stood watching as they met their son. Dan properly broke down and cried in front of his wife for the first time.

‘I can’t believe I’m finally a mum …’ Cathy said, and then her eyes lifted and met Isla’s. ‘I mean …’

When Isla spoke, she was well aware of the conflicting feelings that Cathy might have.

‘You’ve been a mum for a very long time,’ Isla said, gently referring to their difficult journey. ‘Now you get the reward.’

Isla’s time with Cathy and Dan didn’t finish there, though. After Cathy had been sutured and Recovery was happy with her status, Isla saw them back to the ward. Cathy simply could not stop looking at her baby and Dan was immensely proud of both his wife and son.

They had made it to parenthood.

Before Cathy was discharged Isla would have a long talk with her. Often with long-awaited babies depression followed. It was a very confusing time for the new mother—often she felt guilty as everyone around her was telling her how happy she must be, how perfect things were. In fact, exhaustion, grief over previous pregnancies, failure to live up to the standards they had set themselves could cause a crushing depression in the postnatal period. Isla would speak with both Dan and Cathy about it before the family went home.

But not tonight.

For now it really was about celebrating this wonderful new life.

‘I’m going to have a glass of champagne for you tonight,’ Isla said as she left them to enjoy this special time.

She said goodbye to the staff on the ward then headed around to the changing room.

She’d forgotten her dress, Isla realised as soon as she opened her locker. She could picture it hanging on her bedroom door and hadn’t remembered to grab it when she’d dashed for work that morning.

She glanced at the time and realised she would be horribly late if she went home to change. She knew that she really ought to go straight there as there weren’t many people able to make it, given that it was Valentine’s Day. Alessandro had apparently been doing a run of nights in his previous job and had booked to go away for the weekend with his girlfriend before he started his new role.

Isla rummaged through her locker to see if there was an outfit that she could somehow cobble together. She didn’t have much luck! There was a pair of denim shorts that she had intended to wear with runners. Isla had actually meant to start walking during her lunch break but, of course, it had never happened. She could hardly turn up at the Rooftop Bar in shorts and the skimpy T-shirt and runners that she had in her locker, but then she saw a pair of cream wedged espadrilles that she had lent to a colleague and which had been returned.

Isla tried it all on but the sandals pushed her outfit from far too casual to far too tarty.

Oh, well, it would have to do. She was more than used to turning heads. She didn’t even question if there was a dress code that needed to be adhered to. Isla didn’t have to worry about such things—it was one of the perks of being a Delamere girl. You were welcome everywhere and dress codes simply didn’t apply.

She ran a comb through her long blonde hair and added a quick dash of lip gloss and some blusher before racing out of the maternity unit and hailing a taxi. As she sat in the back seat she realised that she was slightly out of breath—she hadn’t yet come down from the wonderful birth she had just witnessed.

Elated.

That was how she felt as she climbed the stairs and then stepped into the Rooftop Bar.

And that was how she looked when Alessi first saw her. Tall, blonde and with endless brown legs, she walked into the bar with absolute confidence. She looked vaguely familiar, he thought, though he couldn’t place her. At first he didn’t even know if she was a part of the small party that was gathered.

He knew, though, that, whoever she was, he would be making an effort to speak with her tonight. He watched as she gave a small wave and made her way over and he found out her name as the group greeted her.

‘Isla!’

So this was Isla.

Alessi knew who she was then. Not just that she was head midwife at The Victoria. Not just that she must be Charles Delamere’s younger daughter, which would explain why she was in such a high-up role at such a young age. No, it was more than that. Though he could not remember her from all those years ago, he knew the name—they had attended the same school.

‘I’m sorry that I’m so late.’ Isla smiled.

‘How did it go?’ Emily, one of the midwives, asked, referring to Cathy’s delivery.

‘It was completely amazing,’ Isla said. ‘I’m so lucky to have been there.’

‘And I’m so jealous that you were!’ Emily teased, and then made the introductions. ‘Isla, this is Alessandro Manos, the new neonatologist.’

Isla only properly saw him then and as she turned her slight breathlessness increased.

He was seriously gorgeous with black, tousled curly hair and he was very unshaven. The moment she first met his black eyes all Isla could think was that she wished Rupert were here tonight.

Isla and Rupert were seemingly the golden couple. They had been together since school, where Isla had been head girl and Rupert had been head of the debating team. One night they had gone to a party and it had been there, after a very awkward kiss, that Rupert had confessed to her that he was gay.

Rupert had no idea how his parents would take the news and he was also upset at some of the rumours that were going around the school.

Isla had covered for him then and she still did to this very day.

Rupert’s career had progressed over the years and his agent had strongly advised him that the roles that were being offered would be far harder to come by if the world knew the truth. He was nothing more than a wonderful friend who, in recent years, had questioned why Isla chose to keep up the ruse that they were going out.

It suited Isla, too.

Despite her apparent confidence, despite her ease in social situations, despite the questions raised by magazines about her morals, because she put up with Rupert’s supposed unfaithfulness after all, no one had ever come close to the truth—Isla was a virgin.

Her entire sexual history could be written on the back of a postage stamp. She’d had one schoolgirl kiss with Rupert that hadn’t gone well at all. Now she’d had several more practised kisses with Rupert but they had been for appearances’ sake only.

Often Isla felt a complete fraud when she spoke with women about birth control and pelvic floor exercises, or offered advice about lovemaking during and after pregnancy, when she had never even come close to making love with anyone herself.

Yes, how she would have loved Rupert to be here tonight, to hold her friend’s hand and to lean just a little on him as the introductions were made and she stared into the black eyes of a man who actually had the usually very cool Isla feeling just a little bit dizzy.

‘Call me Alessi,’ he said.

‘Sorry, Alessi, I keep forgetting,’ Emily said. ‘Isla is Head of Midwifery at MMU.’

‘It is very nice to meet you,’ Alessi said. He held out his hand and Isla offered hers and gave him a smile. His hand was warm as it briefly closed around the ends of her fingers and so, too, were Isla’s cheeks. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ he offered.

‘No, thanks.’ Isla was about to say that she would get this round but for some reason, even as she shook her head, she changed her mind. ‘Actually, yes, please, I’d love a drink. I just promised Cathy, my patient, that I was going to have a glass of champagne for her tonight.’

Alessi headed off to the bar and Emily took the opportunity to have a quick word. ‘Isla, thank you for getting here, I know you were held back, but I’m really going to have to get home.’

‘Of course,’ Isla said. ‘I know how hard it is for you to get away and I really appreciate you coming out tonight. The numbers were just so low I didn’t want Alessandro, I mean Alessi, to think that nobody could be bothered to greet him. Go home to your babies.’

As Emily said her goodbyes, another colleague nudged Isla. ‘Gorgeous, isn’t he?’

‘I guess.’ Isla shrugged her shoulders. She could get away with such a dismissive comment purely because she had Rupert standing in the wings of her carefully stage-managed social life. Isla glanced over to the bar and looked at Alessi, whose back was to her as he ordered her drink. He was wearing black trousers and had a white fitted shirt on that showed off his olive skin. Isla felt a flutter in her stomach as it dawned on her that she was actually checking him out. She took in the toned torso and the long length of his legs but as he turned around she flicked her gaze away and spoke with her colleagues.

‘Thank you for that,’ Isla said when he handed her her drink. She was a little taken aback when he came and sat on the low sofa beside her, and she took a sip.

Oh!

With all the functions that Isla attended she knew her wines and this was French champagne at its best! ‘When I said champagne …’ Isla winced because here in Melbourne champagne usually meant sparkling wine. ‘You must think me terribly rude.’

‘Far from it,’ Alessi said. ‘It’s nice to see someone celebrating.’

Isla nodded. ‘I’ve just been at the most amazing birth,’ she admitted, and then, to her complete surprise, she was off—telling Alessi all about Cathy and Dan’s long journey and just how wonderful the birth had been. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said when she realised that they had been talking about it for a good ten minutes. ‘I’m going on a bit.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ Alessi said. ‘I think there is no greater reward than seeing a family make it against the odds. It is those moments that we treasure and hold onto, to get us through the dark times in our jobs.’

Isla nodded, glad that he seemed to understand just how priceless this evening’s birth had been.

They chatted incredibly easily, having to tear themselves away from their conversation to say goodbye to colleagues who were starting to drift off.

‘I can’t believe that we went to the same school!’ Isla said when Alessi brought it to her attention. ‘How old are you?’

‘Thirty.’

‘So you would have been two years above me …’ Isla tried to place him but couldn’t—they would, given their age difference, for the most part, have been on separate campuses. ‘You might know my older sister Isabel,’ Isla said. ‘She would have been a couple of years ahead of you.’

‘I vaguely remember her. She was head girl when I went to the senior campus. Though I didn’t really get involved in the social side—I was there on scholarship so if I wanted to stay there I really had to concentrate on making the grades. Were you head girl, too?’

Isla nodded and laughed, but Alessi didn’t.

Alessi was actually having a small private battle with himself as he recalled his private-school days. Alessi and his sister Allegra had been there, as he had just told Isla, on scholarship. Both had endured the taunts of the elite—the glossy, beautiful rich kids who’d felt that he and his sister hadn’t belonged at their school. Alessi had for the most part ignored the gibes but when it had got too much for Allegra he would step in. They had both worked in the family café and put up with the smirks from their peers when they’d come in for a coffee on their way to school and found the twins serving. Now Allegra was the one who smirked when her old school friends came into Geo’s, an exclusive Greek restaurant in Melbourne, and they realised how well the Manos family had done.

Still, just because they had been on the end of snobby bitchiness it didn’t mean that Isla had been like that, Alessi told himself.

They got on really well.

Isla even texted him an image she had on her phone of a school reunion she had gone to a couple of years ago.

‘I remember him!’ Alessi said, and gave a dry laugh. ‘And he would remember me!’

‘Meaning?’

‘We had a scuffle. He stole my sister’s blazer and she was too worried to tell my parents that she’d lost another one.’

‘Did you get it back?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Alessi grinned and then his smile faded as Isla pointed to a woman in the photo who he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

‘Do you remember Talia?’ Isla asked. ‘She’s a doctor now, though she’s moved to Singapore. She actually came all the way back just for the reunion.’

Alessi didn’t really comment but, yes, he knew Talia. Her name was still brought up by his parents at times—how wrong he had been to shame her by ending things a couple of days before their engagement. How he could be married now and settled down instead of the casual dates that incensed his family so.

Not a soul, apart from Talia, knew the real reason why they had broken up.

It was strange that there on Isla’s phone could be such a big part of his past and Isla now dragged him back to it.

‘She’s got four children,’ Isla said. ‘Four!’

Make that five, Alessi wanted to add, his heart black with recall. He could still vividly remember dropping by to check in on Talia—he’d been concerned that she hadn’t been in lectures and that concern had tipped to panic as he’d seen her pale features and her discomfort. Alessi had thought his soon-to-be fiancé might be losing their baby and had insisted that Talia go to hospital. He had just been about to bring the car around when she had told him there was no longer a baby. Since the morning’s theatre list at a local clinic he had, without input, no longer been a father-to-be.

Of course, he chose not to say anything to Isla and swiftly moved on, asking about Isla’s Debutante Ball, anything other than revisiting the painful past. She showed him another photo and though he still could not place a teenage Isla he asked who an elderly woman in the photo was.

‘Our housekeeper, Evie.’ Isla gave a fond smile. ‘My parents couldn’t make it that night but she came. Evie came to all the things that they couldn’t get to. She was very sick then, and died a couple of months later. Evie was going to go into a hospice but Isabel and I ended up looking after her at home.’

Isla stared at the image on her phone. She hadn’t looked at those photos for a very long time and seeing Evie’s loving smile had her remembering a time that she tried not to.

‘Would you like another drink?’ Alessi offered as Isla put away her phone, both happy to end a difficult trip down memory lane.

‘Not for me.’

‘Something to eat?’

She was both hungry enough and relaxed with him enough to say yes.

Potato wedges and sour cream had never tasted so good!

In fact, they got on so well that close to midnight both realised it was just the two of them left.

‘I’d better go,’ Isla said.

‘Are you on in the morning?’

‘No.’ Isla shook her head. ‘I’m off for the weekend. I’m pretty much nine to five these days, though I do try to mix it up a bit and do some regular stints on nights.’ They walked down the steps and out into the street. ‘So you start on Monday?’ she checked.

‘I do,’ Alessi said. ‘I’m really looking forward to it. At the last hospital I worked at there was always a struggle for NICU cots and equipment. It is going to be really nice working somewhere that’s so cutting-edge.’ He looked at Isla—she was seriously stunning and was looking right into his eyes. The attraction between them had been instant and was completely undeniable. Alessi dated, flirted and enjoyed women with absolute ease. ‘I’m looking forward to the weekend, too, though.’

‘That’s right, you’re going away with your girlfriend …’

‘No,’ Alessi said. ‘We broke up.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Isla said, which was the right response.

‘I’m not,’ Alessi said, which was the wrong response for Isla.

She was terribly aware how unguarded she had been tonight. Perhaps safe in the knowledge that he was seeing someone.

She looked into his black eyes and then her gaze flicked down and she watched as his lips stretched into a slow, lazy smile.

His mouth was seductive and he hadn’t yet kissed her but she knew that soon he would.

As his lips first grazed hers Isla’s nerves actually started to dissolve like a cube of sugar being dipped into warm coffee—it was sweet, it was pleasurable, it was actually sublime. Such a gentle, skilled kiss, so different from the forced ones with Rupert. It felt like soft butterflies were tickling her lips and Isla realised that her mouth was moving naturally with his.

Alessi’s hands were on her hips, she could feel his warm hands through her denim shorts and she wanted more pressure, wanted more of something that she didn’t know how to define, she simply didn’t want it to end. But as the kiss naturally deepened, her eyes snapped open and she pulled back. Her first taste of tongue was shocking enough, but that she was kissing a man in the street was for Isla more terrifying.

He thought her easy, Isla was sure, panic building within her about where this might lead. She almost was easy with him because for the first time in her life she now knew how a kiss could lead straight to bed.

She had many weapons of self-defence in her armoury but she leapt straight for the big one and shot Alessi a look of absolute distaste.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she snapped, even if she had been a very willing participant. ‘I was just trying to be friendly …’

Alessi quickly realised that he had been right to be cautious about her.

He knew the looks she was giving him well.

Very well!

She didn’t actually say the words—do you know who I am? Though Isla’s expression most certainly did. It was a snobby, derisive look, it was a get-your-hands-off-me-you-poor-Greek-boy look.

‘My mistake,’ Alessi shrugged. ‘Goodnight, Isla.’

He promptly walked off—he wasn’t going to hang around to be trampled on.

Her loss.

Alessi knew she’d enjoyed the kiss as much as he had and that her mouth, her body had invited more. He simply knew.

Isla had enjoyed their kiss.

As she climbed into a taxi she was scalding with embarrassment but there was another feeling, too—despite the appalling ending to tonight her lips were still warm from Alessi’s and her body felt a little bit alive for the very first time, a touch awoken to what had seemed impossible before.

As she let herself into her flat, a gorgeous penthouse with a view of Melbourne that rivalled that of the Rooftop Bar, she smiled at Isabel.

‘Sorry I didn’t get there,’ Isabel said. ‘Did you have a good night?’

Isla, still flushed from his kiss, still a little shaken inside, nodded.

It had, in fact, been the best Valentine’s night of her life.

Not that Alessi could ever know.

CHAPTER ONE

NEW YEAR’S DAY.

Isla saw the sign for the turn-off to Melbourne International Airport and carried on with her conversation as if she and Isabel were popping out for breakfast.

They were both trying to ignore the fact that Isabel was heading to live in England for a year and so, instead of talking about that, they chatted about Rupert. He was back in Melbourne for a week and the supposed news had broken that he’d had a fling with one of the actresses in his latest film. Not even Isabel knew that Isla’s relationship with Rupert was a ruse.

‘You’re truly not upset?’ Isabel checked, and Isla, who wore her mask well, just laughed as she turned off the freeway.

‘What, I’m supposed to be upset because reports say that he got off with some actress in America a few weeks ago?’ Isla shook her head. ‘It doesn’t bother me. I couldn’t care less what they say in some magazine.’

‘You’re so much tougher than I am,’ Isabel sighed. ‘I simply can’t imagine how I would feel if …’ Her voice trailed off.

The conversation they had perhaps been trying to avoid was getting closer and closer and neither wanted to face it.

Isla knew what Isabel had been about to say.

She couldn’t stand to hear about Sean if he was with someone else.

Sean Anderson, an obstetrician, had been working at the Victoria since November and was the reason they were at the airport now. Sean was the reason that Isabel had accepted a professional exchange with Darcie Green and was heading for Cambridge, just to escape the re-emergence of her childhood sweetheart into her life.

The large multistorey car park at the airport had never made Isla feel sick before but it did today.

They unloaded Isabel’s cases from the boot, found a trolley and then headed to the elevator. Once inside Isla pressed the button for the departure floor and forced a smile at her sister as they stood in the lift.

‘If Darcie’s flight gets in on time you might have time to see her,’ Isla said, and Isabel nodded.

‘She sounds really nice from her emails. Well, I hope she is, for your sake, given that she’s going to be sharing the flat with you.’

Isla had never lived alone and so, with her older sister heading overseas and as their flat was so huge, it had seemed the perfect idea at the time. Now, though, Isla wasn’t so sure. Isabel was going away to sort her heart out and Isla was going to do the same. She really wanted things to be different this year, she wanted to finally start getting on with her life, and that meant dating. That meant letting her guard down and dropping Rupert and, despite being terrified, Isla was also determined to bring on a necessary change.

Not tonight, though!

Tonight there were drinks to greet Darcie at the Rooftop Bar and Alessi would be there.

It was almost a year since that Valentine’s night and since then the atmosphere between them had been strained at best. He was a playboy and made no excuse about it and Isla loathed his flirting and casual dating of her staff, though he barely glanced in her direction, let alone flirted with her. Alessi, it was clear, considered Isla to be a stuck-up cow who had somehow wormed her way into her senior position thanks to her father. They rarely worked together and that suited them both.

The early morning sun was very low and bright as Isla and Isabel crossed the tunnel that would take them from the car park to the departure lounge. A few heads turned as the sisters walked by. It wasn’t just that they were both blonde and good-looking but that, thanks to their frequent appearances in the celebrity pages of newspapers and magazines, people recognised them.

Isabel and Isla were more than used to it but it felt especially invasive this morning.

Today they weren’t minor celebrities but were sisters who were saying goodbye for a whole year, for a reason even they could not discuss—an event that had happened twelve years ago. Something that both women had fought to put behind them, though, for both, it had proved impossible.

What had happened that night had scarred them both in different ways, Isla thought as she watched Isabel check her baggage in.

She didn’t really know Isabel’s scars, she just knew that they were there.

They had to be.

Isla forced a smile as Isabel came back from the check-in desk.

‘I’m not going to wait to meet Darcie,’ Isabel said, and Isla nodded. Yes, they could stand around and talk, or perhaps go and get a coffee and extend the goodbye, but it was all just too painful. ‘I think I’ll just go through customs now.’

‘Look out, England!’ Isla attempted a little joke but then her voice cracked as they both realised that this was it. ‘I’m going to miss you so much!’ Isla said. She would. They not only worked and lived together but shared in the exhausting round of charity events and social engagements that took place when you were a Delamere girl.

They shared everything except a rehash of that awful night but here, on this early summer morning, for the first time it was tentatively broached. ‘You understand I have to go, don’t you?’ Isabel asked.

Isla nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

‘I don’t know how to be around him,’ Isabel admitted. ‘Now that Sean is back, I just don’t know how to deal with it. I know that he doesn’t understand why I ended our relationship so abruptly. We both knew it was more than a teenage crush, he was the love of my life …’ Tears were pouring down Isabel’s cheeks and even though she was younger than Isabel, again, it was Isla who knew she had to be strong. She pushed aside her own hurts and fears and cuddled her big sister and told her that she was making the right choice, that she would be okay and that she could get through this.

‘I know how hard it’s been for you since he came to MMU,’ Isla said.

‘You won’t say anything to Sean …’

‘Oh, please,’ Isla said. ‘I’d never tell anyone, ever. I promised you that a long time ago. You’ve got this year to sort yourself out and I’m going to do the same.’

‘You?’ Isabel said in surprise. ‘What could you possibly have to sort out? I’ve never known anyone more together than you.’

Isla, though, knew that she wasn’t together. ‘I love you,’ she said, instead of answering the question.

‘I love you, too.’

They had another hug and then Isla stood and watched as her sister headed towards customs and showed her passport and boarding pass. Just as she went past the point of no return Isabel paused and turned briefly and waved at a smiling Isla.

Only when Isabel had gone did Isla’s smile disappear and Isla, who never cried, felt the dam breaking then. She was so grateful that she had an hour before Darcie arrived because she would need every minute of it to compose herself. As she walked back through the tunnel towards the car Isla could hardly see where she was going because her eyes were swimming in tears, but somehow she made it back to the car and climbed in and sat there and cried like she never had in her life.

Yes, she fully understood why Isabel had to get away now that Sean had returned. The memories of that time were so painful that they could still awake Isla in the middle of the night. She fully understood, with Sean reappearing, how hard it must be for Isabel to see him every day on the maternity unit.

It was agony for Isla, too.

She sat there in her car, remembering the excitement of being twelve years old and listening to a sixteen-year-old Isabel telling her about her boyfriend and dating and kissing. Isla had listened intently, hanging onto every word, but then Isabel had suddenly stopped telling her things.

A plane roared overhead and the sob that came from Isla was so deep and so primal it was as if she were back there—waking to the sound of her sister’s tears and the aftermath, except this time she was able to cry about it.

Their parents had been away for a weekend. Evie, their housekeeper, had lived in a small apartment attached to the house and so, effectively, they had been alone. Isla, on waking to the sounds of her sister crying, had got out of bed and padded to the bathroom and stood outside, listening for a moment.

‘Isabel?’ Isla knocked on the bathroom door.

‘Go away, Isla,’ Isabel said, then let out very low groan and Isla realised that her sister was in pain.

‘Isabel,’ Isla called. ‘Unlock the door and let me in.’

Silence.

But then came another low moan that had Isla gripped with fear.

‘Isabel, please.’ She knocked on the door again, only this time with urgency. ‘If you don’t let me in then I’m going to go and get Evie.’

Evie was so much more than a housekeeper. She looked after the two girls as if they were her own. She worried about them, was there for them while their parents attended their endless parties.

They both loved her.

Isla was just about to run and get Evie when the door was unlocked and Isla let herself in. She stepped inside the bathroom and couldn’t believe what she saw. Isabel was drenched in sweat and there was blood on the tiles, but as she watched her sister fold over it dawned on Isla what was happening.

Isabel was giving birth.

‘Please don’t tell Evie,’ Isabel begged. ‘No one must know, Isla, you have to promise me that you will never tell anyone …’

Somehow, despite the blood, despite the terror and the moans from her sister, Isla stayed calm.

She knew what she had to do.

Isla dropped down to her knees on instinct rather than fear as Isabel lay back on the floor, lifting herself up on her elbows. ‘It’s okay, Isabel,’ Isla said reassuringly. ‘It’s going to be okay.’

‘There’s something between my legs …’ Isabel groaned. ‘It’s coming.’

Isla had been born a midwife, she knew that then. It was strange but even at that tender age, somehow Isla dealt with the unfolding events. She looked down at the tiny scrap that had been born to her hands and managed to stay calm as an exhausted Isabel wept.

He was dead, that much Isla knew, yet he was perfect. His little eyes were fused closed and he was so very still.

Tomorrow she would start to doubt herself. Tomorrow she would wonder if there was something more that she could have done for him. In the months and years ahead Isla would terrorise herself with those very questions and would go over and over holding her little nephew in her hands instead of doing more. But there, in that moment, in the still of the bathroom, Isla knew.

She wrapped her tiny nephew in a small hand towel. There was the placenta and the cord still attached and she continued to hold him as Isabel lay on the floor, sobbing.

‘He’s beautiful,’ Isla said. He was. She gazed upon his features as her fingers held his tiny, tiny hands and she looked at his spindly arms and cuddled him and then, when Isabel was ready, Isla handed the tiny baby to her.

‘Did you know you were pregnant?’ Isla asked, but Isabel said nothing, just stared at her tiny baby and stroked his little cheek.

‘Does Sean know?’ Isla asked.

‘No one knows,’ Isabel said. ‘No one is ever to know about this.’ She looked at Isla, her eyes urgent. ‘You have to promise me that you will never, ever tell anyone.’

Some promises were too big to make, though.

‘I have to tell Evie,’ Isla said.

‘Isla, please, no one must know.’

‘And so what are we supposed to do with him?’ Isla demanded.

‘I don’t know.’

‘You know what you don’t want me to do, though. You know that he needs to be properly taken care of,’ Isla said, and Isabel nodded tearfully.

‘You won’t tell anyone else,’ Isabel sobbed. ‘Promise me, Isla.’

‘I promise.’

Isla sped through the house and to Evie. The elderly housekeeper was terribly distressed at first, but then she calmed down and dealt with things. She understood, better than most, the scandal this might cause and the terrible impact it would have on Isabel if it ever got out. She had a sister who worked in a hospital in the outer suburbs and Evie called her and asked what to do.

Isla sat, her tears still flowing as she recalled the drive out of the city to the suburbs. Isabel was holding the tiny baby and crying beside her till the lights of the hospital came into view. Evie’s sister met them and Isabel was put in a wheelchair and taken to Maternity, with Isla following behind. The midwife who had greeted them had been so lovely to Isabel, just so calm, wise and efficient.

‘What happens now?’ Isla asked. It was as if only then had they noticed that Isabel’s young sister was there and she was shown to a small waiting room.

It had been the last time Isla had seen her nephew.

She didn’t really know what had gone on.

Evie had come in at one point and said that the baby was too small to be registered. Isla hadn’t known what that meant other than that no one would have to find out.

Her parents would later question Isla’s decision to become a midwife. They had deemed that it wasn’t good enough for a Delamere girl but Isla had stood by her calling.

She’d wanted to be as kind and as calm as the staff had been with Isabel that night.

With one modification.

Though her sister had been gently dealt with by midwives who had been used to terrified sixteen-year-old girls who did not want their parents to find out, one person had been forgotten.

Isla had sat alone and unnoticed in the waiting room.

Now she knew things should have been handled differently—the midwives, the obstetrician, at least one of them should have recognised Isla’s terror and spoken at length with her about what had happened. They should have come in and taken care of the twelve-year-old girl who had just delivered her dead nephew. They should have carefully explained that the baby had been born at around eighteen weeks gestation, which had meant that there was nothing Isla could have possibly done to save him.

It would be many years before Isla got those answers and she’d had to find them out for herself.

Yes, that night had left scars.

Despite appearances, despite her immaculate clothes and long glossy hair and seemingly spectacular social life, Isla had equated sex with disaster. Not logically, of course, but throughout her teenage years she had avoided dating boys and in her final year at school Rupert had seemed the perfect solution. Still she’d kept the secret of that night to herself.

She had promised her sister after all.

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