About the Authors

SCARLET WILSON wrote her first story aged eight and has never stopped. She’s worked in the health service for twenty years. Having trained as a nurse and a health visitor, Scarlet now works in public health, and lives on the West Coast of Scotland with her fiancé and their two sons. Writing medical romances and contemporary romances is a dream come true for her.

Three-times Golden Heart® Award finalist TINA BECKETT learned to pack her suitcases almost before she learned to read. Born to a military family, she has lived in the United States, Puerto Rico, Portugal and Brazil. In addition to travelling, Tina loves to cuddle with her pug, Alex, spend time with her family, and hit the trails on her horse. Learn more about Tina from her website, or ‘friend’ her on Facebook.

Also by Scarlet Wilson

The Good Luck Hospital miniseries

Healing the Single Dad’s Heart

Just Friends to Just Married?

London Hospital Midwives collection

Cinderella and the Surgeon

Miracle Baby for the Midwife by Tina Beckett

Available now

And look out for the next two books

Reunited by Their Secret Daughter by Emily Forbes

A Fling to Steal Her Heart by Sue MacKay

Coming soon

Also by Tina Beckett

The Surgeon’s Surprise Baby

A Family to Heal His Heart

A Christmas Kiss with Her Ex-Army Doc

London Hospital Midwives collection

Cinderella and the Surgeon by Scarlet Wilson

Miracle Baby for the Midwife

Available now

And look out for the next two books

Reunited by Their Secret Daughter by Emily Forbes

A Fling to Steal Her Heart by Sue MacKay

Coming soon

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Cinderella and the Surgeon

Scarlet Wilson

Miracle Baby for the Midwife

Tina Beckett

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90218-6

CINDERELLA AND THE SURGEON & MIRACLE BABY FOR THE MIDWIFE

Cinderella and the Surgeon © 2020 Scarlet Wilson Miracle Baby for the Midwife © 2020 Tina Beckett

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Cinderella and the Surgeon

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Miracle Baby for the Midwife

Back Cover Text

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

Cinderella and the Surgeon

Scarlet Wilson

A Cinderella midwife…

And her dashing duke!

When Harry Beaumont, Duke of Montrose, arrives at Queen Victoria Hospital, down-to-earth midwife Esther McDonald clashes with the buttoned-up neonatal surgeon. They’re from different worlds, but when Harry invites Esther to a glittering ball, she begins to see beyond his title to the man inside. Independent Esther’s life has never been a fairy tale—dare she let gorgeous Harry sweep her off her feet?

This book is dedicated to my lifelong friend Julie Clark.

When she reads it, she will understand why!

And to my fabulous editor Carly Byrne, for giving me

a helping hand when I needed it most.

CHAPTER ONE

ESTHER MCDONALD RUBBED her eyes for the twentieth time as she made her way to work. She’d hoped the walk along the footpath next to the Thames would have woken her up a little, but it clearly wasn’t working.

She’d pulled an extra shift last night working until midnight at another hospital in London. Anything to help pull in some extra cash. She already planned to text the agency again today to see if they had anything else for her.

It wasn’t that her own job wasn’t well paid. It was and she loved working in the neonatal ICU at the Queen Victoria. But right now she needed every penny she could get. So that meant working every shift available.

She was lucky. Because she was dual-trained she could work as a nurse or a midwife, which meant she had multiple opportunities for extra shifts. Usually she could pick up shifts at short notice for the A&E department in the Queen Victoria on her scheduled days off. But the duty manager had noticed how often she’d been working and had passed comment more than once. So, Esther had registered with an agency as well.

She filed through the main doors of the hospital along with a whole host of other staff heading for the early shift. She was worried about a tiny preemie she’d been looking after for the last few days in ICU. Billy, the twenty-four-weeker with a heart defect, had seemed even more fragile than normal yesterday afternoon when she’d left. His young mother hadn’t left his side since he’d been born a few days earlier and was looking sicker and sicker herself. Esther just hoped the ‘wonder’ doc they’d all been talking about had finally managed to turn up to assess the little guy. Billy needed surgery that only a few neonatal cardiac surgeons could do. Trouble was, this guy had been over in France operating on another baby, so Billy had been left waiting.

She tugged her pale blue scrubs over her head and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, catching a quick glance of herself in the changing room mirror. Ugh. She looked awful. The quick sweep of make-up she’d stuck on her face this morning couldn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes.

As she headed to the stairs her stomach grumbled loudly. She’d been so tired she hadn’t had time to make breakfast this morning. She’d have to try and sweet-talk her colleagues into letting her take first break. One of the Queen Victoria’s freshly baked scones would easily fill the huge gap in her stomach. She smiled at the thought of it.

‘Morning,’ she said in her best bright voice as she entered the NICU, stowing her bag and washing her hands. She got a little buzz every time she walked through the door. It was everything, the lighting, the sounds, the staff and patients—even the smell. She’d done her nurse training in Edinburgh and came down to London to also complete her midwifery training. Only a few specialist centres offered the shortened eighteen-month training these days and she’d been delighted to join the programme at the Queen Victoria, joining in with an already partly trained direct entry midwifery programme. She’d made some of the best friends she’d ever had—and even though some of them had gone to other parts of the world now, they were all still in touch.

The midwifery training had been a revelation for her. Esther had always imagined she’d end up as a community midwife, but from the first second she’d set foot in the NICU, she’d known that’s where her heart lay. There was something about the vulnerability of these tiny babies. The role of often being their safe-guarder in the first few days of their lives. The little bits of progress she could see every day.

Of course, there could often be heartbreak. Her job was as much to take care of the families as it was to take care of the babies. But there was something so special about helping a preterm baby latch on to their mother for the first time. Or watching them become more aware of the world around them. Or seeing their reactions to lights or voices. Now she was here, she couldn’t imagine working any place else.

One of the other midwives stood up and put her bag over her shoulder.

Esther glanced at the chart. ‘How’s Billy doing?’ She checked the whiteboard, making sure she’d been assigned her favourite patient again today. Yip. Perfect. Billy, and a thirty-six-weeker in the next crib who’d been born to a diabetic mother in the early hours of the morning. That little one was likely just being monitored for a few hours to keep an eye on blood sugars.

Ruth, the other midwife, sighed. ‘You look tired.’

‘I am. Weird. Extra shifts never usually bother me.’ Esther stretched out her back. ‘You know how things are. Win the lottery and give me a share and I promise I won’t work an extra shift again. Until then, I’ll take all I can get.’

Ruth shot her a look and started the handover. ‘Billy hasn’t had a good night. His sats dropped, his feeding tube dislodged and X-ray haven’t been able to get back up to ensure the new one is in the correct place. Hence, his feeds haven’t started again.’

Esther shook her head. She knew exactly how important it was to ensure the nasogastric feeding tube had gone into the stomach and not a baby’s lungs. No feeding could commence until it was confirmed.

‘I’ll call them again. If Callum’s working I’m sure he can get someone up here now.’

Ruth smiled. ‘Perfect. He always listens to you.’

She scanned the rest of the charts. ‘Anything else?’

Ruth nodded. ‘Billy’s cardiac surgeon is supposed to arrive today. No idea when, but all his tests have been completed, so hopefully the surgeon will just be able to check them all, listen to his chest and schedule the surgery.’

Esther nodded. Please let it be today.

‘By the way,’ said Ruth as she handed Esther another chart. ‘He’s supposed to be a duke or something.’

Esther had already started scanning the other chart. The other baby was Laura, thirty-six weeks, born via emergency caesarean section to a Type 1 diabetic mother. Laura’s blood sugar levels had been erratic for a few hours after delivery. That could happen with babies born to diabetic mothers, and it wasn’t unusual for a baby to have close monitoring for just a few hours. Laura’s levels had stabilised in the last hour, so Esther would just do a few more checks, then get her back to her mother’s bedside.

She looked up and wrinkled her nose. ‘What did you just say?’

Ruth laughed. ‘I said the new surgeon. He’s a prince or a duke or something.’

Esther shrugged. ‘And what difference does that make? Is that why he’s late? He’s too busy with his—’ she held up her fingers ‘—other duties.’ She frowned as she picked up some nearby equipment. ‘Better not be why he’s keeping my baby waiting.’

Ruth shook her head as she picked up her bag to leave. ‘Lighten up. Maybe this new guy is single.’ Ruth sighed and gave Esther a look that made her want to run a million miles away. Pity. Esther hated that. She hated anyone feeling sorry for the poor little Scots girl. ‘All I’m saying is that maybe there’s more to life than work, that’s all.’ Ruth gave a shrug and walked over to the door. Then she turned back with a smile and wagged her finger at Esther. ‘And make sure you’re on your best behaviour. Don’t have our new guest surgeon meeting Crabbie Rabbie instead of super midwife Esther.’

Esther looked around for something to throw but Ruth had ducked out the door too early. She shook her head as she walked over to do her checks on her babies and parents.

She’d earned the nickname within a few months of getting here as a student midwife. Because she’d already been qualified as a nurse, she’d caught a few shifts in the wards while completing her midwifery course. Truth was, Esther was never at her best on night shift. That whole ‘turn your life upside down for a few days’ thing just messed with her body and brain and tended to make her a little cranky—or crabbit as they called it in Scotland.

She’d clashed with one of the junior doctors one night on the ward when he’d continually tried to re-site an IV on an elderly patient, rather than come and ask for help. Once she’d realised he’d had four attempts he hadn’t fared well.

The whole ward had heard him getting a dressing-down, her Scottish accent getting thicker by the minute as she got angrier and angrier.

It had been 25 January. Robert Burns Day in Scotland—named after their national poet. This doctor had known that and had walked away muttering, ‘Oh, calm down, Crabbie Rabbie,’ much to her fury, and the rest of the staff’s delight.

She’d never managed to shake it off—even though she mostly kept her temper in check these days.

One of the other staff on shift wandered over. ‘Problems?’

She shook her head. ‘All stable. I’ve chased up the x-ray for Billy, just waiting for them to appear. I’m going to take Laura back along to the maternity ward. Her blood sugars are fine and she’s starting to grizzle. Must be due a feed.’

‘Okay, do that, and then go for first break. You look as if you need it. I’ll keep an eye on Billy.’

She laughed and put one hand on her hip. ‘I must be looking bad if you’re sending me on first break.’

‘Go before I change my mind.’

Esther rechecked Billy’s obs and chatted with his mum for a few minutes, making sure everything was meticulously recorded and phoning down to Callum again to chase up the x-ray. Then she gathered what she needed for Laura and threw her bag over her shoulder. Ten minutes later, Laura was back at her mother’s bedside and happily feeding.

Esther stretched out her back as she headed to the canteen. It didn’t normally bother her but today it was aching. Maybe all the extra shifts were taking a toll on her. The smell of freshly baked scones hit her as soon as she walked through the canteen doors. Two minutes later she had a large coffee and an even larger scone with butter and jam before her.

She glanced around the canteen. She couldn’t spot Carly or Chloe, the friends that she normally sat with. There was a group of other nurses that she knew, but a seat in the far corner of the room was practically crying out her name. She was too tired to be sociable.

She moved quickly and slid into the seat before anyone else claimed it. Most of the seats were hard-backed and sat around the circular tables in the canteen. But there were a few, slightly more comfortable chairs a little further away—obviously left over from a ward refurb a few years ago.

The scone was gone in minutes and as she sipped her coffee she closed her eyes for just a moment. The door nearest her opened with a bang and a large crowd of people walked in, all talking and laughing at the tops of their voices.

She gritted her teeth. Just five minutes of peace. That’s all she wanted. She shifted uncomfortably on the chair, pulling her scrub top from her skin. It seemed unusually warm in here.

The noise continued. Esther watched through half-shut eyes. There was a guy at the centre of it all. Handsome, in a TV doctor kind of way. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark rumpled hair. The rest of the people around him seemed to be hanging on his every word, occasionally throwing in a word of their own as if they hoped to garner some approval. Maybe he was some kind of TV doc?

‘This place is a hospital, not a blooming circus,’ she muttered.

She checked the clock on the canteen wall. Five minutes. She had another five minutes left of break time. Esther usually never bothered with timings. Most days she grabbed some food, bolted it down and went straight back to the NICU. But she couldn’t believe how tired she felt—it was unusual for her, she did extra shifts frequently and never felt like this—so, for once, she settled back into the chair. For once, she would take her full break.

‘Esther, Esther!’

The voice came out of nowhere. Esther jerked awake. Liz, the admin assistant from NICU, was shaking her shoulder. ‘Wake up.’

Esther sprang from her seat, knocking the still-full coffee cup that had been balanced on the edge of her chair, splashing coffee up the legs of her scrubs and sending Liz jumping backwards.

‘Oh no,’ she groaned. She gave herself a shake and glanced at the clock on the wall. She was more than fifteen minutes late.

Liz pulled a face. ‘Abi told me to come and find you. The surgeon’s arrived. He’s reviewing Billy right now.’

Esther stared down at the rapidly spreading stain on the lino beneath her feet. ‘Leave it,’ Liz said, waving her hand. ‘I’ll get it. You just go.’

Esther put her hand on Liz’s arm. ‘Thanks, Liz. I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you.’

She dashed back down the corridor towards NICU, crashing through the doors and heading straight to the sink to wash her hands. Abi was standing in the middle of a crowd of strangers that must include the new surgeon; she raised her eyebrows and said in a louder than normal voice, ‘Oh, good, Billy’s midwife is here. She’ll be able to update you.’

Esther dried her hands and moved over quickly, making her way through the crowd. ‘Hi there, I’m Esther McDonald.’ She looked around trying to decide which one of the many bodies wearing white coats must belong to the surgeon. All she knew was he was male. Abi handed over Billy’s chart and Esther could see from a glance that he’d had his chest x-ray and his tube feeding had restarted while she’d been gone. She breathed a sigh of relief.

‘You’re the midwife?’

The deep voice was practically at her ear and she jumped, stumbling over her own feet.

She spun around. Mr Imposing was standing in her personal space, his arms folded across his chest, looking her up and down in a disapproving manner. Okay, so the NICU probably wasn’t big enough for all these people, which could explain the space thing. And the massive splatter of coffee all over her scrub trousers probably wasn’t helping her appearance.

But right now she could smell his clean aftershave and see into those toffee-coloured eyes.

‘Weren’t you the nurse who was sleeping in the canteen?’

She could feel the blood rush to her face and all the hairs on her body prickle in indignation. Who did this guy think he was, sweeping in here with his giant entourage?

Nope. No way.

‘I’m sure you know that we limit visitors to NICU. Maybe other NICUs relax rules for you and your entourage, but the Queen Victoria doesn’t.’

She started to count in her head just how many people were in his little gang. She’d reached twelve when his deep voice sounded right in front of her again.

‘Isn’t this a teaching hospital? Famous the world over for its training programmes?’ There was a mocking tone in his voice.

Esther had been around long enough to recognise an arrogant doctor. As a nurse, and a midwife, she’d met more than her fair share—both male and female.

She hated anyone being dismissive with her. And she didn’t stand for it. More than once she’d used her Scottish accent to the best of her ability to give someone short shrift.

There was something about her accent that generally made people take a step back—particularly when she was angry. If this guy didn’t watch out, he’d soon find out exactly who Esther McDonald was. She’d barely had a chance to look this guy up. All she knew was he was one of a few specialist surgeons who could do the procedure that Billy needed.

She mirrored his stance and folded her arms, tilting her chin towards him as she put a fake smile on her face. ‘Maybe you’d like to introduce yourself and let me know why you think your needs are more important than the needs of the very special babies we have in here?’

She could do sarcasm too.

He inhaled deeply, almost like he wanted to show her just how broad his chest was. But Esther had never been easily intimidated by anyone. ‘I’m Harry Beaumont. I’m here to do the surgery on your patient.’

She raised her eyebrows and nodded. ‘Ah, so you’re here to do the surgery on Billy.’ She pointed one finger at him. ‘In that case, you can stay. Everyone else can wait outside. Unless you’ve brought your own anaesthetist with you.’ She shrugged. ‘If you have, then he, or she, can stay too.’

Eleven other faces exchanged anxious glances, so Esther turned her head a few times as she spoke. ‘The babies in here are just too susceptible to infection to have this many people around. Visitors are strictly limited, for good reason.’ She looked at them all. ‘As I don’t know who any of you are—and to be honest, I’m a bit funny about letting people I don’t know into my NICU too—I’m just going to assume that you’re all either medical professionals or trainees, therefore I don’t need to explain the principles of infection control to you, so you’ll all completely understand that this amount of people is overkill—’ she turned her head back towards Harry ‘—even for a surgeon.’

She’d spoken quite a lot, but knew entirely that all the emphasis was on the things she hadn’t said, but had left implied.

There was a tic at the side of Harry’s jaw. He was mad. She didn’t care. She wanted to tug at her scrub top again. NICUs were always really warm, but this amount of people in close proximity was making her sweat. But tugging at the top would mean she’d have to unfold her arms and that would be a sign of weakness. So not happening.

It was the longest pause. Harry gave the tiniest nod of his head. ‘Francesca, will you stay with me, please? The rest of you, if you wait outside we’ll find a teaching area where I can explain things in due course.’

Francesca was a petite redhead who was grinning conspiratorially at Esther. She let the rest of the entourage leave, then asked, ‘Can I see Billy’s films? I’d like to review them before we examine him.’

‘Of course,’ said Esther, gesturing for both of them to follow her to the nearest computer screen. ‘Have you been assigned temporary log-in credentials?’

‘I have,’ said Harry, moving over next to her and tapping his details in.

It only took a few moments for a scowl to come over his face. ‘I sent a list of tests to be completed for Billy before I got here. Some are missing.’

‘They are?’ Esther moved closer, checking the screen. She’d checked before she’d gone off shift yesterday when there were just a few still to be completed. Ruth had said the rest had been done. What was missing?

She turned to Harry. ‘What is it that you’re looking for?’

‘His bloods. From this morning.’

Of course. ‘I’m sure they were done—they’ve probably not been reported on yet. Don’t worry, I can phone the lab and put a rush on them.’

Harry straightened and gave her an incredulous glance. ‘What do you mean you’re “sure they were done”? You mean you don’t actually know? And why wasn’t there already a rush put on them?’

She stiffened. He was speaking to her as if she was incompetent. Of course she should know if Billy’s bloods had been done or not. But the specialist phlebotomist would have been here while Esther was on her break. If she hadn’t been late back, she might have had a chance to check…

She kept her face blank. Her back was aching. ‘The orders for the bloods were put in last night. At that point, you hadn’t told us when you were coming, or let us know if you’d secured theatre time for Billy. If you had, there would have been a rush put on his bloods.’

She moved over to the desk to pick up the phone. Every word he’d said had annoyed her. But what irked most was that they felt true.

What was wrong with her? She prided herself on being meticulous at work. It wasn’t like she’d made any kind of mistake but…in her brain it almost felt like that. Double-checking things was second nature to her.

‘I’m used to working with professionals. I guess the standards here are not what I’m used to.’

‘Excuse me?’ She couldn’t help herself. There was no way she going to let anyone accuse her of being unprofessional. It was the biggest slight that someone could say to a nurse or midwife.

But it seemed that Harry was off on a rant. He kept his voice low, so that no one else in the unit could hear. ‘Why does Billy still have a feeding tube in situ? In order for Francesca to anaesthetise him, she needs to ensure his stomach is empty. His feeding should have stopped a few hours ago.’

Now Esther wanted to shout at him, but just at that moment a voice answered at the end of the phone. ‘Lab,’ came the weary response.

Something inside Esther panged. Whoever was working there was obviously every bit as tired as she was. ‘It’s Esther from NICU. Can I chase bloods for a baby that’s going to Theatre?’

There was a sigh and murmur of consent. She replaced the receiver and turned to face Francesca, completely ignoring Mr Entourage. She wasn’t even prepared to use his name right now.

‘If you refresh the screen in around five minutes Billy’s bloods will be available. One of the machines was down for a few hours this morning but it’s back up and running now. Billy’s bloods had already been in the system. They’re just waiting for his clotting factor.’

Francesca gave a nod. ‘Perfect.’

Esther looked at Harry’s screen. He was looking at the cardiac echo that had been taken yesterday. Billy needed his surgery, badly.

She moved alongside Harry. ‘I have many skills, Mr Beaumont, but mind reading isn’t one of them. Like I said earlier, if you’d given us notice of Billy’s procedure, then we’d have made sure his feeds were stopped in good time. As it was, his tube dislodged last night and had to be replaced. Billy already had a few hours without sustenance, while his tube was re-sited and then checked. His feed only started again in the last hour.’ She braced herself and turned her head towards him. ‘And for me, unprofessional is a surgeon sweeping into a NICU with an entourage of twelve people with no regard for the patients or parents who are already in a stressful environment. For a surgeon with your apparent experience, I’d expect better.’

Harry was trying his absolute best to keep his temper in check, but this midwife was trying his patience in every possible way. It didn’t help that she had a cheek to be angry at him, or that when she was clearly annoyed she spoke so quickly he had to concentrate to make out a single word that she said. Her Scottish accent was fierce. A bit like she was.

By rights she should probably have fiery red hair to match. But she didn’t. She had dark hair that was up in a ponytail, and her skin looked as though it had once been tanned but was now strangely pale. He couldn’t possibly ignore the dark circles under her blue eyes, or the dirty scrubs she was wearing. He wasn’t quite sure what all this meant—apart from the fact she was looking after the baby he was due to take to Theatre.

Harry had spent his life in and out of NICUs across the world due to his surgical speciality. There weren’t many people that wanted to work on such tiny hearts and veins—particularly when the tissues were so fragile and these little lives could literally be on a knife edge.

What the staff in the NICU at the Queen Victoria clearly didn’t know was that he was the new visiting surgeon, which meant that, where possible, babies with heart conditions would be brought here for him to operate on. For those who were too sick to travel any distance, he would still go to them. But having a semi-permanent base with a team around him would be good. He’d hoped to find professional colleagues he could trust and rely on. But first impressions of this midwife weren’t exactly good.

There was no way he wanted her watching Billy postsurgery.

But what annoyed him most of all was the way she’d quickly and determinedly told him to get his staff out of ‘her’ NICU.

And she’d been right. They always tried to reduce the amount of close contacts that prem babies had. It was important. Their immune systems were often not fully developed, and most humans were walking petri dishes.

People could be carrying bugs for days without any signs or symptoms. Something that caused a mere sniffle in an adult could be deadly to a premature baby. It might be a teaching hospital but even he wouldn’t expect any NICU to let in that many students and trainees. He’d been in such a hurry to get in here and see his patient, and been so swept away by the enthusiasm of the staff at his side, that he hadn’t stopped to think. And Harry didn’t make mistakes like that. So being called on it was embarrassing.

‘You must have known Billy was going to Theatre today,’ he said briskly to the midwife.

She gave him a weary look that told him she was getting very bored by all this. ‘I hoped you might show your face today. I hoped that Billy wouldn’t have to wait another day for surgery. I was told that you were supposed to turn up today, but no one knew when. I look after both baby and mum, and if you’d communicated a little better, there was also the chance I could have prepared mum more for his surgery today.’

She put her hands at the back of both hips, leaned backwards and winced as if she’d touched something painful.

‘Blood results are in,’ said Francesca in a manner that could only be described as deliberately distracting. It was clear she was trying to break the tension between them. ‘His blood gases are a little lower than I would have liked. But not anything I wouldn’t have expected.’ Francesca gave a little sigh and Harry felt a rush of sympathy for her. They’d worked together for a long time. She was a great anaesthetist. It took great skill to manage these tiny babies in Theatre and he depended on her completely. Francesca’s chair scraped on the ground as she stood up. ‘I need to sound his chest. Let me wash up first.’

He followed her over to the sink in the treatment room, completely sidestepping Esther and washing his hands too. He needed to prioritise this baby, not the midwife who looked as if she could currently fall asleep on her feet.

As he stepped back his arm brushed against hers and she jerked away. But not before he noticed how hot she was. ‘Do you have some kind of infection?’

She looked shocked. ‘What?’

‘You’re burning up. What’s your temperature?’ His arm swept out across all the cribs in the NICU. ‘If you have anything respiratory you’re putting the lives of all these babies at risk.’

‘I don’t have anything respiratory,’ she snapped. ‘My chest is clear as a bell.’

For one strange second he realised that her words had made him look exactly at her breasts hidden under her scrubs. He turned back to Francesca. ‘We should see this baby on our own.’

Esther stepped into his path. ‘No, you won’t. I know Jill, his mum, best. She needs support. She trusts me.’

Harry glared at her and she held up her hands. ‘Okay, I won’t touch Billy, right now. I’ll run down to A&E when you’re done and get a clean bill of health. But you don’t see him without me.’

Harry pressed his lips together, stopping himself from just getting into a pointless argument. ‘Only speak to mum, then,’ he reiterated.

She gave an exasperated nod and held out her hand. ‘This way.’

Harry and Francesca followed her over to the left-hand side of the unit to where a young woman sat staring at her baby lying in the crib and rocking backwards and forward in the nursing chair. Harry had dealt with lots of anxious parents. NICUs were the most intimidating places on earth. Parents frequently felt everything was out of their control, and he was used to comforting and supporting parents who were overwhelmed with helplessness and focused on every word that was said to them. This mother was young. Her lank hair was pulled back from her face. It looked as if it hadn’t been washed for a while and from first appearance he actually wondered when she’d last eaten. Now he understood just why Esther was being so protective of Billy’s mum. It was clear she didn’t have many support systems in place.

‘Jill, this is Harry Beaumont. He’s the surgeon that’s going to do the surgery on Billy.’

Harry crouched down so he was level with Jill. She’d sat forward but hadn’t stood up. He gave her a broad smile. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jill. I’m here to take a look at Billy. I’m hoping we’ll be able to take him for surgery later today. Do you mind if I examine him?’

Jill paused for a few moments as her eyes filled with tears, then she gave a tiny nod. ‘Of course.’

She was terrified. He got that. Harry used some of the NICU hand sanitiser before opening the crib to examine Billy, while Francesca introduced herself as Billy’s anaesthetist. He could tell straight away that Esther completely understood, and after a few moments, he could see the tension in Jill’s shoulders start to dissolve as he spoke to Billy in a calm, quiet voice as he examined him.

‘Hi, Billy, I’m here to see how you’re doing. Let’s have a little listen to your heart and lungs.’ He took his time, listening carefully, then checking his oxygen sats, his feeding tube and his colour. Babies this small frequently had skin that was almost translucent. Their circulatory systems—and particularly Billy’s—weren’t functioning quite right, and they often couldn’t regulate their temperatures. Operating and anaesthetising these babies carried huge risks. He gave Francesca a nod as he moved his stethoscope back to Billy’s chest. ‘Want to take a listen?’

She nodded and moved alongside him. There was no point her touching Billy too when she really just needed to listen to his heart and lungs. So, she listened through Harry’s stethoscope, nudging him to move it on occasion.

Harry could sense Esther watching them curiously. She wouldn’t know they’d done this a dozen times before. As Francesca finished her examination it struck him how similar Esther and Jill looked. Exhausted and tired. He could understand it for the mother. But for a member of staff—it wasn’t good enough.

Francesca gave him a nod and he removed his stethoscope and pulled a chair over next to Jill and spent the next few minutes explaining Billy’s surgery to her in simple terms. He brought out some notes that he’d prepared earlier. He always gave the parents of the babies he operated on some clear notes that they could refer to later. Experience had taught him that although parents listened, anxiety meant that they didn’t always remember or understand what they’d been told.

He could feel Esther’s eyes on him the whole time. He would expect the midwife assigned to this child to listen to his explanation. It would mean that she could reiterate anything to the mum at a later date. But somehow, today, it irked him. And he couldn’t quite understand why.

‘Do you have any questions?’ he checked with Jill. She shook her head and he gave her a small nod. ‘If you think of anything later I’ll still be available to answer any questions. I’m going to organise some theatre time now. I hope to take Billy later this afternoon. We’ll stop his feeding for the next few hours, and I’d expect the surgery to last around six hours. You can come down to Theatre if you want while Billy goes to sleep, and I’ll come and find you as soon as we’re finished to update on how things have gone. Okay?’

Jill gave a nod.

‘I’m just going to have a chat with your midwife, and then I’ll talk to you in a while and get you to sign the consent forms.’

He smiled and walked back over to the nurses’ station with Francesca and Esther. Francesca sat down and started making some notes. Esther turned to look at him. ‘You aren’t doing the consent form now?’

He shook his head. ‘No. I’ve given her a lot to process. I want to give her a bit of time to think about everything I’ve told her before I get her to sign the consent form. She might have more questions later.’

Esther gave a brief nod.

He narrowed his gaze. Was she actually listening? He glanced at the board he’d noticed yesterday. It was a shift rota for staff.

The next few days would be vital for Billy. It was important that whoever was looking after him was at the top of their game. Esther’s name was on the rota for tomorrow. He couldn’t let that go.

‘You’re tired. No, scrap that, you’re exhausted. And I think you’re sick. I don’t think you should be at work and I certainly don’t think you should be assigned to Billy. For the next few days he’s going to need someone who’s alert and on their game.’ He paused for the briefest second, because he knew what he was about to say wasn’t exactly nice. ‘And to be honest, I’m not convinced that’s you. I want another midwife assigned to Billy.’

‘What?’ Well, that had certainly gotten her attention.

‘I’m sorry. But I can’t take the risk of performing this surgery and having his postoperative care compromised.’

‘How dare you!’ she hissed at him. She glanced down. ‘What? Because I have a little coffee spilled on my scrubs and I haven’t had a chance to get changed yet, and because I dared to close my eyes in the hospital canteen, you’ve decided I’m not fit to do my job? Just who do you think you are?’

He cringed. He hadn’t exactly said those words but it was certainly how he’d felt. ‘I think you’re sick,’ he said quickly. ‘I think you might need to be checked over, and have a few days’ rest.’ He could see a couple of other staff members looking their way—as if they’d picked up that something was wrong. The last thing he wanted when he was taking up a position here was to cause a ruckus with the staff.

‘My priority is my patient,’ he said quietly but firmly.

‘And mine isn’t?’ He could tell she was mad.

That wasn’t what he meant, even though he’d clearly just implied it. But then again, did he really want this midwife looking after his patient if she wasn’t at the top of her game?

Francesca glared at him from over her computer. Oh no. That didn’t usually happen. Francesca normally had his back.

He took a deep breath. ‘Esther, I have to call things the way I see it. I think you’re running a temp and maybe need to take some time off. You agreed you’d go down to A&E and get checked over. Why don’t you do that and we’ll take it from there.’ It was a compromise. But it was the best he could do right now.

She kept her face entirely straight and pulled up a few things on the computer and grabbed the chart from the base of Billy’s crib.

‘Here, Mr Beaumont. I’d like you to check my work. Here’s all the orders I made for Billy on my shifts for the last few days. Here’s all my nursing notes. Here’s every temp, blood pressure, pulse and respiratory rate. Here’s his medications I’ve administered, and his feeding. Here’s his skin care chart. Here’s his colour chart. Here’s how many times I’ve sounded his chest to ensure that it remains clear. Here is exactly how many times he’s had a wet or dirty nappy.’ She pulled up a final chart. ‘And here’s how many times I’ve had to chase doctors, other departments, test results…all to ensure Billy’s care is up to my standards.’ She held herself very still, but there was the tiniest tremble in her voice. ‘I want you to take the time to look at what I’ve done. Because I record everything, meticulously.’ She emphasized the word, then gave a wave of her hand. ‘And once you’ve done that, I can pull up all the same information for his mother, and you can check my recordings for Jill too.’ She paused for a few seconds as he glanced over what she’d handed him. ‘Unfortunately I’m not on shift twenty-four hours a day, so I’ve only given you what I’ve done for Billy. Hospitals have emergencies, as I’m sure you’re aware. Blood machines break down. Feeding tubes dislodge and can’t be safely used again until there’s been an x-ray that’s been checked by a physician. I’m not responsible for other people’s time constraints.’

He was checking. She was right. He couldn’t deny it. Her recording was meticulous. Some of the best he’d ever seen, and he’d been in a lot of NICU units.

She’d felt warm to the touch earlier, but as she’d moved closer as she spoke to him he couldn’t hear any sign of a wheeze or rasp in her breathing. Every person was different. Maybe she didn’t have an infection. Maybe he was overreacting. It could be that her body temperature just ran at the top end of normal. It happened.

What was clear was he couldn’t tell her why he’d overreacted. He couldn’t tell her that deep down there was an underlying paranoia about his patients and their welfare.

Before he could blink she’d stepped right up in front of him, her accent thick but perfectly legible. ‘You know, Harry, I’m actually glad that you’re here. Because even though you’re an insufferably arrogant fool, I know how much Billy needs this surgery. And I put him first. Always. But I’m only going to say this once. Don’t ever talk to me like that again and don’t ever question my professionalism or my competency at work.’ She put both hands on her hips. ‘I wish you luck with Billy’s surgery today, but after that, I hope I never have to see your sorry ass in here again.’ And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Harry feeling about as welcome as a thorn in a space suit.

Francesca tutted and gave him a sarcastic smile. ‘Well done, Harry. First day on a new job and you’ve made friends.’ She picked up her bag. ‘And to be honest,’ she said in a low voice as she walked past. ‘Against her? I don’t fancy your chances at all.’

CHAPTER TWO

THE SIGNS HAD been there but she’d been too busy to pick them up—looking after Jill, worrying about her mum. Esther cursed herself all the way down the stairs towards A&E. She hated the fact that it took that pompous prince, duke or whatever he claimed to be to point them out before the penny had finally dropped for her.

Abi had told her to go on down for the check while she took care of Billy but Esther already knew exactly what was wrong with her. She’d ducked into the treatment room and took her own temperature. Yip. She was burning up. She grabbed some paracetamol from her handbag. She had to start somewhere.

Rob, one of the advanced nurse practitioners, was at the nurses’ station in the middle of the A&E department. He took one look. ‘You okay?’

She shook her head. ‘I think I’ve got an upper UTI. Can I borrow you for five minutes?’

He nodded. ‘Sure.’ Then he smiled and handed her a specimen bottle. ‘Let’s get you sorted.’

It took a little more than five minutes because Rob liked to be thorough. Once he heard her past history of having kidney problems as a child, leaving her prone to upper urinary tract infections, he gave a little nod, dipsticked her urine, rechecked her temp and listened to her symptoms of fatigue and an aching lower back.

‘You couldn’t come down earlier?’

She sighed. ‘I’d felt a bit tired but my back only started aching this morning and the new neonatal cardiac surgeon arrived today so I’ve been flat out dealing with him too.’

He gave her a nod and scribbled some notes. ‘What normally works best?’

She told him the name of the antibiotic that normally resolved her infections and he scribbled a prescription, then went to one of the cupboards and pulled out a bottle, signing a form to record it. ‘Okay, so I won’t make you trek to the pharmacy. But I’m still sending your sample away to make sure you’re on the right antibiotic. Results should be on the system tomorrow. I’m working then—will I give you a call?’

Esther gave a grateful nod. The computer system in the Queen Victoria meant that no staff could access their own records or results—no matter how tempting it was. ‘Perfect. Thanks, Rob.’

‘Any time. Not many perks to being in the NHS. We’ve got to look after our own. Are you going to take some time off?’

‘Me?’ She smiled and shook her head. ‘As soon as I start taking these, they usually work fast. This time tomorrow I’ll start to feel better. I’ll just take some paracetamol until then.’

He gave a nod. ‘Fine, but let me know if there’s anything else you need.’

‘An assassination attempt on a visiting surgeon, maybe?’

Rob looked up in surprise. ‘He’s annoyed Crabbie Rabbie? Wow, he’s brave.’

She waved her hand. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve told him how much I love him already. Hopefully he’ll do his surgery, fix my baby and leave.’

She gave Rob a nod and disappeared out the cubicle and back along the corridor. In a way she was happy. This had obviously been working on her for the last few days. At least now she knew why she was so unnaturally tired. It was sort of a relief to know that after a few days of antibiotics she’d be back to herself again.

As she pushed open the door, the manager of the A&E department was heading towards her. Shirley had her hands full, so Esther held the door for her.

She gave her a grin. ‘Lifesaver, thanks.’

‘No probs.’

Something flitted across Shirley’s face. ‘Hey, don’t suppose you could cover a shift on Thursday?’

Esther glanced at the pill bottle she’d just pushed into the pocket of her uniform. Thursday. Three days away. It was her next scheduled day off and she was bound to be feeling better by then. ‘Sure.’ She nodded.

‘Great,’ Shirley shouted over her shoulder as she continued to speed down the corridor.

Harry was doing his absolute best not to try and cause trouble. Only because Francesca had torn a few strips off him.

‘You were way out of line yesterday,’ she said quietly as they met the next morning.

‘How was I out of line? I don’t want some flaky member of staff caring for my baby.’

‘Your baby?’ Francesca raised her eyebrows.

He sighed. ‘You know what I mean. If I operate on them, they’re all my babies.’

‘Don’t try the mushy stuff with me. You’re being harsh. So, she spilt coffee and didn’t have time to change. Who hasn’t? Half the times I was called to a cardiac arrest, I went with half my lunch down me.’

‘Did you sleep in the hospital canteen too?’

Francesca shrugged. ‘Sometimes. If I’d been up all night on call, I might grab five minutes when I had to. Can you really say that you’ve never done that?’

He took in a deep breath and gave a conciliatory shrug too. ‘Okay, I might have.’

Francesca gave him a hard stare. ‘I’m just saying. This is the first time you’ve operated here. I’d try not to get on the wrong side of everyone you might come across if you’re going to be a visiting surgeon.’

‘Now who’s being harsh?’

Francesca started pulling up some results on a nearby computer. ‘Anyway. I would tread carefully. I’ve heard she’s got a nickname.’

‘A nickname?’

Francesca nodded and smiled. ‘Yep. Crabbie Rabbie.’

‘What?’ Harry frowned.

‘Something to do with Scotland’s national bard?’

‘I know who Rabbie Burns is.’

‘Well, apparently she got the nickname just after she arrived. Something to do with her strong accent and the fact she takes no prisoners with people she thinks are annoying.’

‘Are you trying to tell me something?’

‘Just that I think you’ve clearly just put yourself into the annoying category.’

He shook his head. ‘Oh, thanks for that.’ The door to the NICU opened and the day staff filed in, Esther among them.

Her dark hair was swept up in an elaborate plait. She still looked tired but maybe she’d put a little more make-up on, because there was more colour in her cheeks than there had been yesterday. She was wearing a different colour of scrubs today. Bright pink. He’d noticed the staff in the NICU wore different colours—sometimes even with child-friendly designs. The brighter colour made her not look quite so washed out.

It was odd. On any other day—with any other member of staff—he might actually have admitted that he thought she was quite attractive. But he didn’t have time for that. Harry didn’t usually date anyone from work. Too many complications. And he and Esther hadn’t exactly got off to a good start.

He wanted to ask if she was fit to work. He wanted to ask if she still had a temperature. He knew he wasn’t entitled to. Staff in NICUs were extremely familiar with the dangers of exposing babies to potential infections. He shouldn’t second-guess anyone.

Francesca tapped his arm. ‘Okay, I’m off to see another baby.’ She shot him another look. ‘Now, behave. Play nicely.’

He shook his head as she walked out the door.

Esther had raged last night as she’d tried to get to sleep. It was ridiculous. All day all she’d wanted to do was sleep, but actually put her in comfy pyjamas and give her her own bed and she lay there blinking and plotting horrible futures for that annoying surgeon. The man had even stolen her sleep from her.

She ignored the fact it was noisy outside, the pipes creaked, the radiators hissed and upstairs seemed to be having a party again. Her back might have ached a little too, and she’d needed to pee on numerous occasions. It was funny how when you finally got a diagnosis your body practically slapped you on the face with it. But no, it was none of those things that prevented her from sleeping; it was definitely smug Harry Beaumont with his entourage and unflattering words.

She burned from a few of the things he’d said to her. But most of all was his threat to ask for another midwife to be assigned to Billy. She was pretty sure that the charge nurse for the unit would give him short shrift. Oona was from Northern Ireland, and was much more like Esther in temperament than she cared to admit. She wouldn’t take kindly to some visiting surgeon dictating what happened in her NICU.

But as Esther walked through the door of NICU she could see Harry sitting at the nurses’ station. It was 6:50 in the morning and clearly her worst day in the world was just about to start.

It didn’t help that he was looking like Dr Delicious in his pale blue shirt that was a little damp around the collar. He’d obviously just showered and was currently charming the few staff around him; they were laughing and joking.

She braced herself, waiting for someone to tell her she couldn’t look after the little boy she’d spent the last few days tending to. Her eyes hesitantly went to the board. Esther McDonald was written next to Billy Rudd and Akshita Patel. She let out a sigh of relief and went straight over to hear the report.

Somehow she just knew that every single step of the way Harry’s eyes were watching. What was he waiting for?

She pointedly ignored him. Billy’s surgery had apparently gone well, which was a relief. She hurried over to his crib to get a look at him for herself, making sure she gave Jill a hug first.

His colour was different—straight away. Some people might not have found it obvious, but Esther was an experienced NICU member of staff and had always noticed the slight dusky tinge to Billy’s skin. Today, it was gone. His skin still had the translucence of a premature baby, but the colour had definitely improved.

She breathed and caught a scent. She tensed. She recognised it from yesterday, some kind of woody undertones. Harry. She was determined not to turn around.

Jill had got up and gone into the small kitchen in NICU to make herself a cup of tea.

‘Things went well?’ she asked Harry in an even tone. They might have got off to a bad start but there was no point in being uncivil.

‘Yes, and no,’ he said in a low voice.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, things took a little longer than expected. We ran into some problems. The surgery ended up taking about eight hours.’

Esther turned to face him in shock. She knew how long the surgery should have taken. ‘But…’

He shook his head. ‘It’s all under control. The surgery was successful. Billy will need regular reviews and be carefully monitored for the next few days, but—’ he paused and gave a slow nod of his head before his dark eyes met hers ‘—the next few days will be the most crucial.’

Her skin prickled. He wasn’t saying anything out loud. But it felt like he was accusing her of something.

‘Experience with these babies tells me that if something is going to go wrong, it generally happens in the first forty-eight hours after surgery.’

The time when she was part of the team watching Billy.

She tilted her chin, part of her felt defiant, and part of her felt distinctly annoyed by his unsaid implication.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. She knew when surgery had started yesterday. If it had taken eight hours, it couldn’t have finished until well after midnight. Harry had already been here when she’d come in for her shift. She knew she hadn’t slept last night, but had he?

‘Are you staying close by? You’ve had a quick turnaround.’

She wasn’t even sure where the observation came from, and the instant it came out her mouth she wasn’t entirely comfortable with how it sounded.

But Harry didn’t seem to notice. ‘I’m only a few miles away in Belgravia, but I stayed here last night to keep an eye on Billy.’

‘Oh.’ She nodded. Belgravia. Of course. He was supposed to be some kind of royalty, wasn’t he? Of course that’s where he’d stay. Not like herself, who had to travel nearly an hour each day to get to work.

He pulled something from his pocket, then cleared his throat. ‘I left a note for the NICU nurse last night about all the things I wanted monitored in Billy.’

She glanced at the piece of paper in his hand. ‘I do know how to do postoperative care, Harry. This isn’t my first rodeo, you know.’ There was no way she was touching that list. Her eyes quickly ran down it. It was what they would do for every baby postsurgery, with the exception of one test that could easily be ordered with the rest of the blood work.

She pressed her lips together and tried not to snap. Everything about this guy just seemed to annoy her. Even the way his aftershave seemed to linger in the air between them. ‘I guess when you move around a lot you don’t know what’s normal in each NICU. But you don’t need to worry about the Queen Victoria. We have a reputation of excellence because we’ve earned it.’

Was that too pointed? She didn’t think so. It seemed more factual to her.

He wasn’t wearing a typical doctor white coat and her eyes were drawn to the muscles beneath the pale blue shirt he wore. The shirt was clearly tailored, defining all the parts of him it should. It had short sleeves—just like all doctors were supposed to wear in clinical areas, but the short sleeves drew her attention to his biceps. Some place she definitely didn’t need to look.

‘Point taken,’ said Harry frostily. ‘But I’d still like my post-op instructions followed. I don’t think that’s unreasonable.’

He was still holding the piece of paper towards her. It was like a standoff. She didn’t want to take it. She didn’t. But Jill came out of the kitchen and started walking towards them. The last thing she needed was for Billy’s mum to think there was any kind of issue between the staff looking after her child. Esther reached out and grabbed the paper, stuffing it in her pocket.

‘Fine.’

One of his eyebrows quirked upwards. ‘Fine,’ he agreed before turning and walking away.

She moved quickly, doing her routine checks on Billy, followed by routine checks on the little girl she was taking care of too.

She’d hoped that Harry would take the cue to leave the NICU. Surely he must be tired? Or at the very least have other work to do. But apparently not. He settled in and made himself comfortable in a corner of the NICU, opening up a laptop and sitting next to one of the phones.

The phone calls were brisk. He seemed to consult on a whole host of cases, some in the UK, and some in Europe.

Not that she was listening to what he was doing. Of course not. She just kept hoping that one of those calls would give him an incentive to actually leave the NICU.

Every time she turned around she felt as if she could feel his eyes on her. At first she told herself it was her imagination. But on the few occasions she looked up, they definitely locked gazes, making heat rush into her cheeks.

She chewed the inside of her cheek as she logged in to one of the patient monitoring systems to update her nursing notes on Billy.

There was a little pink flash in the bottom right-hand corner. Someone else was in these notes. That wasn’t too unusual. The lab could be uploading results. Or someone else could be viewing x-rays or ultrasounds. But then the little flash turned blue, and Esther’s temperature turned red.

Now, someone was looking at the nursing notes. Her nursing notes. The ones she hadn’t even written yet. And all of sudden she didn’t have a single doubt who it was.

This guy was checking up on her, and that made her mad. She couldn’t even remember being supervised this much as a student nurse. When she’d come to the Queen Victoria to do her additional midwifery training it had only taken a few shifts for the staff she worked with to realise she was already trained as a nurse and was clearly competent. Of course, labour and deliveries were supervised. But when she was giving out regular medicines and writing up notes, the staff didn’t need to double-check as she already had a professional registration. So this definitely felt like being under the microscope. And she didn’t like it—not one bit.

The temptation to write Get Lost in the electronic system was overwhelming. It would appear to him in live time. Unfortunately this system was designed to keep a permanent log of everything recorded. So, if she typed it once—even if she deleted it a few seconds later—it could always be pulled up on a previous search.

It was designed to stop users changing records at a later date, but had actually proved a fail-safe for one midwife who’d accidentally recorded notes in the wrong patient record, deleted them, then had to deal with an emergency. The timing had meant she’d totally forgotten to go back and add the notes into the correct patient record. When questions had been asked later, the system could prove the record had been made, just not in the right place.

The midwife still got into trouble, just not as much as she could have.

Esther ignored Harry. She had to. Instead, she quickly typed Billy’s latest observations and results, along with a few thoughts of her own. Then she flipped into the records for Jill and made a few notes too. Jill was also still under observation and Esther had a few concerns.

An hour later, Harry was back by her side. He didn’t speak, but his shoes came into her line of vision. Italian handmade leather shoes. Something she’d only ever seen on movie stars before. Even his shoes annoyed her.

Was she maybe being irrational?

She waited until he’d sounded Billy’s chest again. ‘Why were you checking my notes?’

His hands flinched. ‘I wasn’t specifically checking your notes, Esther.’

‘You were. I can tell when someone is looking at the page I’m on.’

He gave her a sideways glance. ‘I was reviewing all of Billy’s records. From his delivery, to his first films, his consecutive test results and all of his medical and nursing notes. I like to be cautious. I like to take a big-picture look at my patients.’ He turned to face her. He gave her a reluctant kind of look. ‘I often think that the observations of the midwives or nurses that care for the patients are the most important. They might notice things that other people miss.’ He paused and ran one hand through his thick rumpled hair. There was something about that motion. The look on his face as he did it that made her breath catch somewhere at the back of her throat. Sorrow. Pain. Regret.

‘I’ve found over the years when we’ve had to do significant adverse event reviews, or even child death reviews, that often in case notes we can pick up tiny comments that might not seem like much to begin with, but when you stop—’ he held up his hands and swept them around ‘—and look at the whole picture, they all prove to be part of the jigsaw puzzle. The one that we often don’t put together until it’s far too late.’ He bit his bottom lip… There was something about this; she could tell he was keeping his emotions in check, and it made her stop feeling quite so angry at him. He took a deep breath. ‘So, I’ve learned to pay attention. To read all the notes—by everybody involved—and keep everything in mind.’ His toffee eyes locked on hers. ‘Because what’s the point in doing all these reviews if we don’t actually learn anything from them?’

Her mouth had gone dry. There was so much more to this story. Yes, she felt under the spotlight by him. Yes, she felt as if his words yesterday had been unjustified. But now he was telling her exactly why he was being meticulous, and her previously irritated brain could absolutely understand it.

He worked around a variety of hospitals. It was doubtful that he could remember anyone’s name. Everyone knew that some hospital units were better run than others. Esther could write a list right now of places she would never apply for a permanent position. Was it any wonder he didn’t think twice about handing over written instructions postsurgery for a patient?

Maybe she was letting her annoyance with him yesterday colour her judgement.

He was still standing there. Just a few steps away from her. She could see the rise and fall of his chest under his tailored shirt. The shirt that probably cost more than any outfit in her closet at home.

It was hard not to see the differences between them both. His cut-glass accent both annoyed and intrigued her. What was it really like to be a member of the upper classes? She was pretty sure she’d never met anyone before who would fall into that category. Had Harry been guaranteed a place at one of the best medical schools as part of his birthright? Or was all that outdated nonsense? She really had no clue.

What she was sure about was that he hadn’t had to juggle school work with two part-time jobs at school, and study into the late hours to make the grades he needed. Esther wasn’t some natural genius. She’d worked hard to get what she needed to get into university in Scotland. Doing the conversion course to midwifery in London had only been possible because of a grant from a Scottish millionaire who stayed in her area and invited Scots people to apply. Scotland was one of the few places on the planet where university tuition was free for their kids. But if a Scots kid wanted to do a course that was only offered in England? Then, like everyone else, they had to pay. She’d only been able to get to the Queen Victoria through getting the grant to fund her fees. It had also covered her rent during her training, so she was much luckier than most. But somehow she knew that Harry Beaumont had never had to worry about tuition fees or accommodation in his life.

Her mind drifted. Wondering if he’d ever been to Buckingham Palace or knew anyone there. Maybe he’d been best friends with one of the younger princes? He’d be around the same age.

Esther’s eyes fixated on his arms again. The muscles made her wonder if he was a rower. That would be it. He’d probably been part of either Oxford or Cambridge’s row teams.

There was a soft cough to her left and she jerked, turning to see Jill watching her with a strange expression on her face.

‘Everything okay?’

Jill looked between them both. ‘That’s just what I was about to ask you. You both seem to have been here awhile. Is there something wrong with Billy?’

Harry automatically stepped backwards. ‘No, no, everything is fine. I’m very pleased with Billy’s progress.’

He seemed to rethink his words. ‘Of course, we’re still going to keep monitoring him closely for the next few days. But, so far, he’s making a good recovery.’

Esther felt a tiny flash of something. The way he’d retreated from his initial words. It was almost like he didn’t want to seem too confident that Billy was out of the woods. Not to give Jill too many reassurances that could lead her to think that nothing else could go wrong.

She wondered if Jill had even noticed. But it didn’t really matter because Esther had. She put her hands on her hips and gave a little stretch backwards. It was odd. She was still having to take paracetamol for her temperature and she had still had that odd heavy feeling. Usually by this point the antibiotics would have started to kick in, and the tiredness at least would have begun to lift.

But not yet.

Her appetite hadn’t quite returned either. Yesterday she’d ate that scone, and then hadn’t eaten until later at night—and that had just been a bowl of soup. This morning she hadn’t even eaten breakfast, just made do with a caramel latte. That had been on the way into work, and funny thing was, she still wasn’t hungry.

She gave Jill a smile. ‘How you doing? I’ll be going to the canteen later for some food. Want to come with me?’

It didn’t matter whether she was hungry or not. Some of the other staff had noted that Jill hadn’t been eating much. Hospital meals were always supplied for parents in the NICU, but Jill hadn’t been touching hers. She did occasionally leave the NICU and say she was going to buy something—usually from a vending machine—but Esther wasn’t convinced. Maybe it was time to try another tack.

Jill shot a glance at the crib. ‘But if you’re with me, who will watch Billy?’ There was genuine apprehension in her voice.

‘I will,’ came the deep reply without hesitation. ‘I intend to be around most of the day, so let me know when you both want to go, and I’ll make myself a coffee, and take up post in the most comfortable chair in the place.’

He pointed to the reclining chair that Jill had next to Billy’s crib and she let out a laugh. Not all of the chairs in the unit could tip back the way Jill’s did and she was the envy of some of the other parents. ‘You promise you won’t leave him?’ She looked over at Esther, then turned back to Harry. ‘I know all the staff are good, but I trust Esther the most. I only ever leave Billy for more than a few minutes if she’s here.’

He held up his hands, laughing. ‘So what am I? The sloppy second?’

Colour rushed into Jill’s cheeks but Esther quickly took a step towards Harry and nudged him. ‘That’s what I like. A surgeon that knows his place.’ She couldn’t hide the glint in her eye.

They’d definitely started off on the wrong foot together, but she was beginning to understand him just a little more. He might not be quite as arrogant as she’d first thought. As if right on cue her stomach gave a grumble.

‘Oh,’ said Jill. ‘Shall we go now? Let me grab my bag.’

Esther put her hands to her stomach and let out an embarrassed laugh. ‘Oops.’

‘Better make my coffee, then,’ said Harry quickly as he ducked into the NICU kitchen.

Esther went to check with one of her other colleagues that it was fine to leave. ‘Harry’s apparently watching Billy,’ she told her.

Danielle raised her eyebrows. ‘The surgeon? How on earth did you manage that one?’

‘I didn’t,’ she said, feeling a little uncomfortable. It was unusual. She couldn’t remember a surgeon ever offering to keep watch on a baby. Not to cover a break at least. ‘He offered.’ She paused for a second, then added, ‘I think he’s concerned about mum. I offered to take Jill down to the canteen but she was reluctant to go and leave Billy.’

‘Ah. That makes sense. Try and get her a bit of fresh air too. She needs it.’ It was almost like Danielle had instantly forgotten the first part of the conversation. She stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out some coins. ‘Here, get me something sweet. This diet I’ve been on is killing me. I need a chocolate fix.’

Esther smiled and nodded. ‘No probs. See you soon.’

She checked back at the crib. Harry had settled into the seat and had pulled the flap down on the crib and was talking in a quiet voice to Billy. As she walked over he pretended not to notice. ‘Watch out, Billy. Here comes Crabbie Rabbie. We’ve got to behave around her or we’ll both get into trouble.’

Esther’s mouth hung open. ‘Who on earth told you that?’ She’d always known her nickname. Her colleagues frequently used it with affection, but she hadn’t expected some visiting surgeon to come out with it. People had clearly been talking.

‘What?’ Now it was his turn to have the glint in his eyes. He glanced over each shoulder as if someone was standing behind him. ‘Did I say something?’

She leaned at the edge of the crib and looked down at Billy. ‘Billy, don’t you listen to these bad influences. You know who the favourite is.’

She touched Harry’s shoulder on the way past. ‘And you’re right. You do have to behave. Don’t forget it.’

Jill hurried over with her bag on her shoulder. ‘Are we good to go?’

Harry smiled. ‘Absolutely, your boy is in safe hands. Now take your time. I’ll be right here waiting.’

He shot Esther a quick glance. A silent message passing between them. Their joking was pushed aside again. Jill was the priority here. There was so much evidence about healthy mum, healthy baby. Esther took it completely seriously, and it seemed like Harry did too.

Esther held open the door for Jill, taking one final glance backwards as something warm spread through her. Most surgeons she met were quite insular. Only interested in moving on to their next surgery once the job was done. Harry seemed to be taking a much wider view. It was nice.

His head was dipped close to Billy and he was chatting away, his cup on the table next to him. She watched as he used some gel nearby before stretching his hand inside and letting Billy grasp his finger.

A smile lit up Harry’s face.

And that was the moment she knew he was trouble.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE DIDN’T SLEEP too well that night. She might as well have covered the night shift the amount of times she was back and forth to the toilet.

By the time she took the route along the Thames she’d reached that strange point where sleep now seemed like an optional extra, so she bought the biggest coffee she could from one of the street vendors with two extra shots to try and give herself the oomph that felt missing.

It was a huge relief when she walked into the NICU and Harry wasn’t there. Last thing she wanted was him calling her on how tired she looked. Apparently he’d gone back to France to see the baby he’d operated on previously.

He’d been so scrupulous about Billy’s monitoring—almost as much as she was—and she’d heard him on the phone to France yesterday on a few occasions. It was clear he kept a close eye on any baby he’d operated on.

Yesterday they seemed to have reached an uneasy truce. There hadn’t been a single word about her expertise or competence. She’d spent most of the day looking after both Billy and his mother, but Harry had constantly stayed around. Lingering doubts had hovered in her head and part of her wondered if he was keeping an eye on Billy, or if he was really keeping an eye on her. The more she’d thought about it last night, the more it seemed to amplify in her mind. Could he have hung around yesterday to assess her competence?

Once the seed was planted there she just couldn’t shake it off. She’d re-examined every conversation they’d had. The fact he’d offered to sit with Billy to let her take Jill to the canteen. The truth was Jill hadn’t eaten much at all.

But for the first time Jill had agreed to leave Billy’s bedside and have a few hours’ sleep in an actual bed. The NICU had two small rooms—just big cupboards, really—where parents could actually lie down and sleep, then have a shower if they wished. If Harry was examining her care, surely he could see how important it was to take care of mum too?

Billy’s post-op care had been unremarkable, but when she’d read the theatre notes Esther realised just how touch and go it had been for him. Even if she’d initially detested him Harry Beaumont was a skilled surgeon, and looking at the neat clean scar line on Billy’s tiny chest and the way his lungs filled with air every few moments, the scare in Theatre seemed a lifetime away.

Esther’s stomach had churned as she’d made her way to the unit that day. She’d washed her hair and made sure her scrubs were immaculate. Even applying a little more make-up to her still slightly pale face. And that annoyed her too, because she’d always been immaculate at work. So why did it seem even more important that day? In a way she’d almost been annoyed when she realised Harry Beaumont wasn’t there after all. But the annoyance had quickly given way to relief. On a day like today she wanted to be comfortable at work. All her concentration had to be on Billy and his mother. Not on some random, tall, dark and handsome arrogant fool with toffee-coloured eyes.

Heat rushed into her cheeks as she finished another set of Billy’s checks. Where had that thought come from?

Abi nudged her elbow. ‘So, anyway, I was telling you. We’ve found out what branch of royalty our new surgeon has.’ She smiled brightly as if she thought Esther might actually be interested. ‘He’s from your neck of the woods. He’s a duke. From Scotland. The Duke of Montrose.’

Esther wrinkled her nose. ‘There’s nothing Scottish about him. Have you heard that cut-glass accent?’

Abi laughed. ‘What—you don’t have posh people in Scotland?’

Esther had to smile too. ‘Sure we do. But not in my neck of the woods. Anyhow, when these people get titles, it doesn’t mean it relates to where they stay, or where they’re from. The Prince of Wales wasn’t born and brought up in Wales, was he?’

Abi frowned for a second. ‘I guess not.’ She waved her hand as she started to walk away. ‘Anyway, just thought you’d want to know.’

Esther was surprised. ‘Why on earth did you think I’d want to know?’

Abi’s eyebrows rose. ‘Just in case you were plotting a murder. Thought you’d want to know who he is before you kill him.’ She was grinning as she left, but Esther pressed her lips together.

Okay. Abi hadn’t mentioned anything about the day before. But people were clearly talking. At some point she’d expect Harry to appear again and review Billy. If she were lucky, somebody else would be on duty. If not, it was really important that she didn’t give off those vibes. The ones that said, If I was a superhero and had powers, I’d strike you down with my laser vision.

She had to maintain her professional composure. It didn’t matter they’d had a few fallouts. The patients were the most important thing in NICU. It was important that an easy ambience was kept in place. She could be civil. She might not smile, but she could certainly be civil.

‘Hey, Esther, can you take a call from Harry Beaumont? He wants a report on Billy.’

She stiffened and picked up Billy’s chart. ‘Sure.’

It seemed like she’d have to start right now. She picked up the phone from where it was lying on the nurses’ station and did actually smile as she kept things deliberately formal. ‘This is Esther McDonald, Billy’s midwife, can I help you?’

There was a pause at the end of the line. ‘This is Harry Beaumont, the neonatal cardiac surgeon who carried out Billy’s surgery yesterday. Can you give me an update on how he’s doing, please?’

Oh. It seemed that two could play that game.

The smile stayed on her face. She gave Harry a quick rundown on all of Billy’s obs, new blood results, his colour and then…she did what she always did. She told him how she felt. There was something to be said about the instinct of a health professional. She always believed it should never be ignored. Sometimes, even though there was not a single piece of scientific fact, a health professional just seemed to know if a patient was going to go ‘off.’ So many times, their instincts had been correct. Studies had even been done on the phenomenon.

So she went with her gut. ‘Billy’s good. Everything is going well. I think he’s on the road to recovery.’

‘That’s your professional opinion?’ There was something in his tone. She wasn’t quite sure if he was mocking her, or if he actually got it.

‘I have a good feeling,’ she replied.

‘Okay.’ His voice was thoughtful. He paused for a few seconds. ‘Thanks for the update. I should be back by tomorrow. I’ll review him in person then. How’s his mum doing?’

Once again, Esther was a little surprised. The surgeons she’d worked with before generally didn’t take the time to consider the parents. ‘Sleeping,’ she said. ‘For the first time in days. She’s taken a shower and washed her hair too. When she wakes up, I’m going to send her down to the hospital canteen with one of my colleagues to make sure she eats.’

‘Does she really have no supports? Does no one else come to visit Billy?’

Esther’s curiosity was piqued. Not only was he interested, he actually sounded concerned. ‘Not the whole time I’ve been here,’ she said.

‘Hmm…’ She could tell he was thinking. Her brain was whirring. Maybe he wasn’t quite as bad as she’d first thought.

‘Esther, can I just check? Your temperature yesterday, it’s resolved?’

And there it was. Just when she’d finally had a reasonable thought about this man it was like he’d just pulled the rug from under her feet.

In a way she understood the question. His issue was protecting the baby he’d operated on. But the question was intensely personal. Just as well she didn’t have anything to hide.

‘My temperature is resolved.’

‘The reason?’

She bristled. It seemed to be her permanent state when she had any contact with this man. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this about anyone. He was checking up on her—again.

She decided to put all her cards on the table. ‘Don’t worry. I don’t have a respiratory infection.’ If she had, she knew she’d have to have bailed out of the NICU for a few days. There were strict rules adhered to by all the members of staff in the NICU. ‘I have a UTI,’ she added. ‘Long-term history, and I’ve got antibiotics.’

It was too much information. But she wanted this guy off her back. As a health care professional she wasn’t embarrassed to talk about medical conditions. She really didn’t think she had anything to hide.

There was a few moments’ silence at the end of the phone, then his voice sounded deep and husky. ‘I hope you feel better soon, Esther.’

She licked her lips as she put down the phone, a strange buzz going up her arm. She was feeling a little warm again. Maybe it was time for some more paracetamol?

CHAPTER FOUR

HER PHONE BUZZED and she checked it as she walked into A&E. ‘Hi, Mum, everything okay?’

She listened for a few minutes as her mum filled her in on the last few days. Her heart always twisted in her chest when her mum’s name came up on her phone. It always made her wonder if it was going to be something she didn’t want to hear.

Her mum had fought cancer a few years ago, the worst part being she’d initially kept it a secret from Esther because she didn’t want to distract her from her studies. Esther had been absolutely devastated when she’d found out—particularly when she’d realised her mum had gone through the diagnosis and some of her treatment on her own. Guilt had overwhelmed her, that her mother had put her first in her own biggest time of need. They’d always been so close and the treatment had left her mother unable to work any more. Hence, why Esther worked every shift she could. She had to pay rent in London, which was always extortionate, plus the mortgage payment on her mum’s home in Edinburgh. But there was only two years left on the mortgage. She could do it. She just had to keep up with the extra shifts.

‘I’m glad you’re doing okay,’ said Esther, her shoulders going down a little in relief.

‘Please don’t work too hard, honey,’ came the reply. ‘I’m so sorry about all this.’ This conversation happened in every call. Her mum felt massively guilty that her daughter was helping support her now.

But what else could she do? Her dad had died a few years earlier. He’d been wonderful, if a little harum-scarum. He’d drifted from job to job. Her mother had always really been the breadwinner in the household. Her father’s jobs had always revolved around his passions. He’d been an extra for film companies, a body-double, had a go at training as a stunt man, then he’d taken jobs everywhere as a tour guide. He’d always seemed to like jumping from place to place, before coming home to his girls with a whole host of wonderful stories to tell.

Although they’d both loved and adored him, his attitude to work had put a strain on things for her mum, who’d counted every penny. It had ingrained in Esther the fact that security and a steady job were one of the most important things in life.

‘It’s fine, Mum, please don’t worry. You paid the first twenty-three years, let me pay off the rest.’ She spoke for another few minutes, then ended the call.

The board in A&E was full. It was going to be a busy night.

She walked down to where the shift handover normally happened. The first person she saw was Rob, the ANP. He groaned and grabbed her elbow. ‘I called yesterday—didn’t you get the message to call me back?’

She shook her head. He walked into one of the consulting rooms and took out a key to open a locked drawer. ‘The lab work showed that the antibiotic you’re on won’t work this time. You need something different.’

He handed over a prescription bottle with her name on it.

She nodded. ‘I wondered why I wasn’t feeling better so quickly. Okay, I’ll swap them over.’ She opened the bottle and swallowed the first tablet with some water. ‘All good.’ She smiled at him.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, now let’s get to the handover.’

Thursdays were a strange day in A&E. Everyone always expected weekends to be busy, but Thursdays liked to keep staff hanging, wondering if it was going to be a lull before the storm, or a full-on tornado.

Today, the waiting room was packed.

‘Where do you want me?’ asked Esther.

‘Can you cover cubicles?’ asked the charge nurse as he tried to assign everyone to their spot.

‘No trouble.’ She picked up the charts for the cubicles nearby and scanned them. Stitches. A fractured wrist. A patient waiting for a bed in Respiratory. Another patient needing a catheter inserted due to urinary strictures, and a confused elderly patient that had been found wandering near one of the parks and was bordering on hypothermic. More than enough to keep her busy.

Six hours later she still hadn’t had a break. Esther knew she really needed to grab some more paracetamol and another dose of her new antibiotics but she literally hadn’t had a minute.

‘Where’s the nurse who works in NICU?’ she heard a harassed voice say. ‘And someone call the paed doctor?’

Esther stuck her head from behind the cubicle curtains where she’d just finished stitching up a laceration. ‘I’m here. Need a hand?’

The doctor she didn’t know that well nodded. ‘Please, I’ve got a newborn who doesn’t look great.’

Esther nodded. ‘Absolutely.’ She snapped off the gloves she was wearing and grabbed a new pair, striding quickly alongside the doctor. She could sense his panic. And she understood it. He was new to the department and relatively junior. Dealing with babies could be scary. Paediatrics wasn’t everyone’s bag.

She stepped into the cubicle and saw the baby still clutched in its mother’s arms. She sat down in the chair next to her. ‘Hi there. I’m Esther, a midwife and a nurse. Can you tell me what happened today?’

The mother was trembling. She knew it was important to get a good history from the mother, and to try and keep things calm.

She caught a waft of something and sensed someone had come in at her back. But she kept her concentration on the baby. She really needed to get a look at either he or she.

‘I h-had a home delivery last week. Everything was fine. But…he’s just gone downhill fast. He’s not feeding well, he keeps being sick. His colour is bad, and he gasps when he’s breathing.’

Esther nodded and held out her arms towards the mother. ‘Okay, sounds like I need to take a little look at him. What’s his name?’

‘Jude.’

She smiled and kept her hands outstretched. ‘Do you mind if I take a look at Jude?’

The woman hesitated and then finally handed over the little baby. Esther moved slowly and laid the little boy down on the A&E trolley.

She knew instantly that the person on her shoulder was Harry, and after one look at this baby, for once, she wasn’t too sorry he was there.

He’d walked into the cubicle just a few steps behind Esther. Paeds had received three panicked calls from A&E. He couldn’t quite understand why Esther was working down here, but he gave her space to talk to what was clearly a very anxious mother. She handled the situation well and he waited until she’d moved the baby to the trolley before moving to the other side. He gave a nod to the mother and opened his mouth to speak but Esther got there first.

‘Was Jude full term when he was born?’

The mum shook her head. ‘Thirty-eight weeks but the midwife said there was nothing to worry about.’

Harry took his stethoscope from his neck and smiled at the mum. ‘I’m Harry, I’m one of the paediatric doctors. I’m just going to check Jude over if that’s okay with you.’

The woman gave an anxious nod and Harry waited patiently as Esther unwound a finger probe from the paed monitor and attached it to Jude’s tiny finger.

Harry had learned not to introduce himself as a paediatric surgeon; it had a tendency to freak people out. Truth was, the paed doctor who was on call was dealing with a meningitis case in one of the wards upstairs. When Harry had heard there was a baby with potential breathing difficulties, he’d offered to cover the call.

And he was glad he had.

This little guy was using all his accessory muscles to breathe. It only took a few seconds to show that he was bradycardic, and his oxygen saturation was lower than he would have hoped for.

Esther didn’t say a word, just reached for the oxygen and handed him the chart. She was efficient, he’d give her that.

She slid the nasal prongs into place and picked up an ear thermometer. Harry listened carefully to Jude’s chest, hearing exactly what he expected to.

There was a definite heart defect. One he’d need to diagnose after a few more investigations. In the meantime he pulled over the sonogram without waiting for a sonographer and had a quick look for himself.

Esther was talking in a low voice to little Jude. He was responding, blinking and kicking his arms and legs. His skin was a little dusky, but not enough to cause huge concerns for Harry. He suspected this was something he could solve with surgery in the next few days. It wasn’t uncommon for heart defects not to be obvious in babies straight away. The most severe were normally picked up at prenatal scans. But the less severe could be missed.

He moved around and sat in the chair next to the mum, then paused, realising he didn’t know her name.

It was like Esther read his mind. She glanced at the chart he’d left sitting on the other side of the trolley and gave a casual smile. ‘Claire, Harry our doctor is going to explain what he thinks is going on with Jude right now.’

Harry gave her a grateful nod. ‘Is there anyone else here with you?’

Claire shook her head, her eyes bright with tears. ‘I just panicked and brought him in. I tried to phone my husband and my mum-in-law but neither of them answered. I left messages.’

Esther nodded. ‘How about I have a quick check in the waiting room to see if either of them have arrived?’

Two minutes later she returned with a breathless man and an older-looking woman with her bag clutched to her chest. Both of them immediately crowded over Jude. Harry waited for them to ease their panic. The guy came and put his arm around his wife. ‘What’s going on?’

‘He went a funny colour when he was feeding and it just didn’t get better.’

The older woman was stroking Jude’s head and whispering to him. It was clear Claire had supports in place that Jill in the NICU could badly do with. Harry introduced himself and shook hands, then took some time explaining what was wrong with Jude’s heart, drew a diagram for them explaining how surgery would fix things.

It was clear they were horrified, but Esther was smooth, finding tissues for tears, then a chair for gran, whose legs seemed to fold once she found out her precious first grandson needed surgery.

‘But who can do it?’

‘I’ll do it.’

‘You do surgery on babies’ hearts? Doesn’t that need to be a specialist?’

‘I am a specialist. I’m a visiting surgeon at the Queen Victoria. Cardiac surgery in babies is my speciality.’

Esther’s eyes locked with his, and she gave the slightest nod of her head, as if she approved of how he was talking to the mum.

‘How many times have you done this operation?’

Harry counted in his head. ‘This will be number twenty-seven.’

There was an audible sigh of relief. He understood that. Esther made a few notes and stepped outside the cubicle while he kept talking to the family.

When she came back in he had just finished explaining that they’d transfer Jude upstairs and make arrangements for admission.

‘Done,’ said Esther, handing him the paperwork. ‘Porter is just coming. Francesca will review Jude on the ward.’

Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘You don’t waste time.’

She gave him a tight smile. ‘Some people call me efficient.’

He shifted on his feet. Was she mad at him again? He thought they’d sorted things. The porter arrived quickly and Harry decided to head up to the ward with the family.

He booked the theatre time for the next day and spoke to Francesca before heading back down to A&E. It only took him a few minutes to find Esther again. She was clearing up a tray of bloody swabs.

‘Whoa.’

She looked up. ‘‘Gunshot wound. Thankfully it was just a graze.’

‘Do midwives normally treat gunshot wounds?’

She blinked. ‘I’m a nurse too. That’s why I get to work in A&E.’ She paused for a second and then added, ‘How’s your baby in France?’

He pulled a face. ‘Post-op complications. He developed a pulmonary embolism. Probably not much bigger than the head of pin. But in a twenty-five-weeker…’

He looked up and realised she was holding her breath. ‘Oh, everything’s good now. We’re back to a “wait and see.”’

‘How come you were down covering?’

‘I’d just got back from France and came in to check on Billy. I’d gone along to the ward and saw the messages about the A&E referral. The doc in Paeds was dealing with a meningitis case so I offered to cover.’

‘That was nice of you.’ Her eyebrows were raised.

‘What? You don’t think I can be nice?’

She tilted her head to the side. ‘To be honest, I don’t know what I think of you, Harry Beaumont, or should I call you the Duke of Montrose?’

He winced. His title followed him everywhere. Not that he ever really used it. Only at family occasions when he had to.

Her hand went to her mouth to cover a yawn, and he was instantly suspicious.

‘Excuse me,’ she said as she dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out some antibiotics, tipping one out and swallowing it.

‘You’re still not feeling better?’ They were under the bright lights of the treatment room and it struck him that she pretty much looked like when he’d seen her on that first day.

She gave a half-hearted shrug. ‘They’ve changed my antibiotics. I was resistant to the first lot and I didn’t get the message until today.’

‘So, you still have a temp and feel knackered?’

She spun towards him in surprise. ‘Since when did you get all Scottish?’ She let out a little laugh. ‘Have you any idea how that word sounds in an accent like yours?’

He grinned at her. ‘Does it sound any better when I say Crabbie Rabbie?’

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. ‘Right, that’s it. It’s official. You’re banned from saying that. In fact—’ she headed to the door of the treatment room ‘—you’re banned from any Scottish words.’ She shot him a teasing glance. ‘I’m not buying the Duke of Montrose title. You’re about as Scottish as the London subway.’

He opened his mouth in pretend horror. ‘Esther McDonald, are you mocking me?’

She gave a shake of her head. ‘Oh, Harry, I haven’t even started yet.’

She started to walk away, ‘Sorry, got to run. Busy.’

Things just got crazier. And Esther got more and more tired by the second. Could there be a chance the second set of antibiotics weren’t right for her either? That would definitely be unusual. Plus it would start to freak her out that she might have an infection that was multiresistant. That had never happened to her before, and she knew they could be serious.

The more tired she got, the more patients crowded through the door. She spent time with a young woman who came in with symptoms of pregnancy that she clearly was ignoring. She kept refusing to accept she was pregnant and her behaviour got more and more erratic. Eventually Esther realised she needed someone other than the A&E docs to assess this young lady. She called one of the psychiatric liaison nurses who was able to discover that their patient had a pre-existing mental-health condition and had in fact realised she was pregnant, and had stopped her regular medication in case it caused harm to her baby. Now, her condition was spiralling and she needed some help.

Next up was an elderly lady who’d fallen and broken her hip, lying on the ground for a few hours before she was found. Hypothermia was setting in, and Esther had to try and get her warmed up in the first instance before she could even be assessed for potential surgery.

As the evening progressed Esther started to develop an unconscious itch. She couldn’t understand it. It started on her back, then moved to her abdomen. She was monitoring her lady’s temperature for the fifth time when Harry caught her standing on one of the corners of the department using the wall edge to scratch her back.

He stopped walking and looked at her. ‘Esther, have you looked in the mirror lately?’

‘Do I look as if I’ve had time to look in a mirror lately?’ It was snappier than she meant it to be.

He put his hands firmly on her shoulders and walked her across the corridor to the accessible toilet that had a large mirror on the wall. He flicked on the light and she gasped.

Red blotches stared at her, climbing all the way up her neck. ‘Oh my…’ Propriety was out the window. She pulled up her scrub top and looked at her abdomen. Yip. Covered, along with a whole host of scratch marks. She lifted her scrub top at the back. ‘Can you check my back?’

She wasn’t the least embarrassed to ask. He was a doctor, and he was right there.

He bent down and took a look, just in time for one of the other A&E members of staff to walk by and raise their eyebrows. Thankfully Harry didn’t notice as he stood up and shook his head. ‘You’re covered.’ His finger touched the top of her arm where her scrub top ended. ‘Look, they’re starting to appear on your arms too.’

She looked down; sure enough, a red, angry-looking blotch was only half hidden by the sleeve of her scrub top.

‘No wonder I’ve been so itchy.’ She sighed. She’d been so busy she hadn’t had time to stop and think about it.

‘New body lotion? New washing powder?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘No, nothing.’ Then something lined up in her brain. ‘Oh, darn it.’ She reached into her scrub top and pulled out her pill bottle. ‘These antibiotics. I’ve never had these before. It must be them.’

Before she had a chance to say anything else Harry reached over and wrapped his hand around her wrist. She didn’t get a chance to object as he led her down the corridor to the treatment room. He stuck his head back out. ‘Rob!’ His shout was loud and commanding, and a few seconds later Rob the ANP appeared.

‘Do you have the key for the medicine trolley?’ Harry asked as Esther let out a few coughs.

Rob frowned, glancing from Harry to Esther, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. He pulled the keys from his pocket. ‘Yes.’

Harry held out his hand. ‘I think she’s having an allergic reaction to those new antibiotics. I’m going to give her some antihistamines.’

Rob moved over, touching her face and turning it from side to side to check either side of her neck. ‘Any wheezing? Difficulty breathing?’

She shook her head but let out another cough.

‘How bad is the rash?’ he asked. She sighed and partly lifted her scrub top again, letting Rob bend down to have a quick check.

‘Darn it,’ he said. ‘I’m going to record this in your notes and get you something else.’

Harry named another antibiotic. ‘Try that one,’ he said to Rob as he opened a bottle of tablets and tipped two into Esther’s hand.

Esther turned on the tap and swallowed the antihistamines with a little water in a medicine cup. This rash was getting itchier by the second.

Okay, she’d been itchy earlier. But she knew this was psychological. Now she’d seen it and realised it was there, she just wanted to claw at herself. Lovely.

Harry had a worried look on his face, and she wasn’t sure whether to feel grateful, or a bit annoyed. She put her hand on the worktop in the treatment room for a second as a wave of tiredness hit her.

She calculated in her head how many days she’d been fighting this infection now. The tiredness had still been there but she’d tried her best to ignore it, believing as soon as the antibiotics kicked in, it would just lift. That’s what had always happened in the past.

‘I have to go back and check obs on my woman,’ she said to Harry. ‘Thanks for the help. I guess I’ll see you later.’

‘You can’t go out there looking like that. And wait until Rob comes back with some new antibiotics. I think you should sit down for a while.’

Her face went automatically into a frown and he held up both hands. ‘Not trying to tell you what to do.’ His mouth started to form other words and she thought for a second he was going to use her nickname, but he smiled, must have thought better of it and stopped. ‘But have you had a break today?’

She shook her head. ‘Then what about a coffee? Even in the staff room for five minutes? Let Rob write up his paperwork and come back with something.’

The thought of sitting down for five minutes was tempting. ‘But what about my patient?’

‘Cubicle five?’

She nodded.

‘Let me tell the charge nurse you need a five-minute break and ask if someone else can check on your lady.’ Harry pulled a face. ‘I hate to break it to you, Esther, but you are actually having an allergic reaction to antibiotics. It’s quite severe. Let’s just be sure it doesn’t progress. Let’s be safe.’

It was the way he said those words. She was so much of the ‘drag yourself into work no matter what’ mentality—one that a lot of nurses had—that she never really stopped and took time for herself. The truth was, with the extra hours she’d been doing, she hadn’t had any time. Would five minutes really matter? She should have been sent for a break a few hours ago.

‘Okay,’ she said reluctantly.

Harry nodded and walked down the corridor in long strides. Esther made her way to the staff room and flicked the switch on the kettle.

There was a huge box of cupcakes and doughnuts in the middle of the table from a bakery that was quite exclusive. Anything left in the staff room was pretty much a free-for-all and she was surprised there were any left.

As she took down a couple of cups Harry came back through the door. ‘All sorted. I told Rob where we are and he’s just finished the paperwork.’

Where we are. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that phrase.

She turned back. ‘Does that mean you’re planning on hanging around?’

He nodded. ‘I’m monitoring your reaction.’

As soon as he said those words she scratched again.

‘Whilst eating cakes,’ he added.

She spooned coffee into two cups and filled them with boiling water. It would be rude not to, but she didn’t plan on being too hospitable. ‘Milk’s in the fridge if you want it,’ she said as she handed over the cup.

He stood quickly to get some. ‘Don’t you want some?’ he asked as he added milk to his cup.

She smiled. ‘No, not here. I never trust milk dates when I’m in the hospital. I always drink my coffee black in here.’

He stared suspiciously into his cup as he sat back down. ‘Yeah, thanks for that.’ He pushed the box towards her. ‘Eat something.’

‘I wonder where these came from?’ she asked as a strawberry cupcake seemed to shout her name.

‘Me,’ he said.

‘You brought cakes to A&E? You didn’t even know you’d be down here.’

He gave her a calculating smile. ‘I brought multiple boxes. I left one in NICU, one in Paeds and one down here.’

‘Trying to win people around because occasionally you can be a bit brusque?’

He lifted a chocolate doughnut and met her gaze. There was something quite electric about those eyes. She was glad she was sitting, because the look would likely have stopped her in her tracks. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you speak your mind?’

She laughed. ‘No. Why would anyone ever tell me that?’ She nibbled at the cupcake. ‘But let me warn you, you think I’m bad? Try meeting Oona our charge nurse. If you think I was smart about the entourage, she would have chewed you up and spat you out.’

‘Nice.’ He nodded. ‘Okay, then, if this is a teaching hospital, exactly how many am I allowed to bring in to NICU?’

‘Students?’

He nodded.

‘Two. And they better follow the infection control procedures. To the letter.’

He leaned over and gently slapped her hand. ‘Stop scratching.’

He was right. She was clawing away at her neck again and hadn’t even noticed. ‘When are these antihistamines going to start to kick in?’ She let out a long, exhausted breath.

Harry glanced at his watch. ‘Probably not for another hour at least.’

Now she’d sat down, tiredness was really starting to overwhelm her, and it didn’t matter how nice Harry had been to her today, because of their altercation a few days before, the last thing she wanted to do was show him just how tired she was at work. Not when she had patients to see, and other staff relying on her.

But Harry was being nice to her. She couldn’t pretend anything else. Today, he’d given her space to deal with the mother and baby. Not all doctors were like that. Some would just have barged in and taken over.

The truth was, she was slightly curious about him. He must have worked hard to gain his position as a neonatal cardiac surgeon. As for the duke stuff? He certainly hadn’t told anyone his title, but information like that was quick to follow a person.

She was suddenly conscious they were the only people in the room, and even though she was at the other side of the coffee table, his fresh scent was drifting over towards her. When she was feeling as tired and woozy as this, it was kind of hypnotic. She felt as if she had to get out of here.

She pushed herself up. ‘I better get back. I have another hour before I’m off shift. You’ve seen it out there, it’s chaos. I can’t stay here eating cakes.’

She’d made it to the door by then, but Harry was right alongside her, his fingers brushing her arm. ‘Even if you’re sick?’

She licked her lips. She couldn’t pretend she felt one hundred per cent. She was feeling hot again, and she wanted to find Rob and get started on the third set of antibiotics. No wonder her body felt so tired from constantly fighting an infection.

She gave him a tight smile. ‘You know how the health service is.’ She ducked out the door before Harry had a chance to say anything else, his fingers burning an imprint on her skin.

She didn’t finish her shift an hour later. Harry knew, because after reviewing Billy in NICU, and making arrangements for the new baby’s surgery, his feet just seemed to automatically take him back downstairs to A&E to check on her.

It was crazy. He didn’t even understand it himself. But there was something about this occasionally angry Scottish midwife that was just pulling him in.

He was quite sure she didn’t want him there. But even though they’d had a bad start, he’d watched her interactions with others, with patients, and the respect she had from other staff, and all of it intrigued him.

So he stood in the corridor as he watched her dash back and forward between cubicles. Rob came and stood alongside him, folding his arms and leaning against the wall like Harry, mirroring his stance.

‘Are you doing what I think you’re doing?’

‘Her rash seems to have died down a bit, but shouldn’t she have gone home by now?’ He turned towards Rob. ‘Shouldn’t you have gone home too?’

Rob shrugged. ‘You know how it is.’ His eyes went to Esther, who hadn’t noticed either of them as she stopped for a second in the corridor and put her hand on the wall. She looked absolutely exhausted.

They shot each other a glance and walked over to her. ‘Okay,’ Rob said quickly. ‘Esther, I’m officially sending you home. I should have done it earlier, but to be truthful I thought you would have responded much quicker to the antihistamines. I’m sorry.’

‘But my patients…’

Rob interrupted her. ‘They’ll be reassigned.’

She sagged a little as relief clearly flooded over her. ‘Great.’

He tilted his head and looked at her again. ‘Is there someone at home with you?’

She scowled. ‘No. Why?’

Rob bit his bottom lip. ‘I actually wonder if I should make you stay overnight in the combined assessment unit—you know, for observation?’

He was glancing at Harry again.

She shook her head fiercely. ‘No way. Not a chance.’

‘Esther, I’m not sure I should let you go home. What if something happens in the middle of the night? What if you feel unwell? How will you get back in?’

Esther gave Harry a look of panic. The dark circles under her eyes pulled at something inside him.

No member of NHS staff wanted to see a colleague look like this.

Harry stood for a few moments next to her, not wanting to leave. It was a strange sensation for him. A few days ago he’d been ready to do battle with this midwife, questioning her competence. But here she was, working in A&E as well as NICU. There had to be a story there, and he was curious what it was. Now he’d seen her working, he knew she was dedicated. He just didn’t know why she was taking on so many shifts to the detriment of her own health. He might not be an expert, he might not even know her that well, but from what little he’d seen, Esther was on the verge of burnout.

She gave a soft smile, and shook her head again. He could tell she was going to try and persuade Rob to let her go. She gave an unconscious scratch of her neck and gave Harry a sad kind of smile. ‘Thanks for looking out for me earlier.’

‘Of course.’ He meant it. He’d look out for any member of staff that was clearly unwell at work.

He held up his hand. ‘Stay here. Both of you. Don’t move.’

There was a phone on the nearby wall and he picked it up, calling up to first NICU, then the paed ward. Everything appeared to be under control. The other doc on call was more than competent. ‘Head home, Harry. Anything happens with your own patients I’ve got your mobile and I’ll give you a call. But you can trust me, you know?’ he added in a jokey tone.

‘Okay.’ Harry hung up the phone. He had to get better at that. Trusting others with his patients. Maybe it was because he’d spent so long being the visiting expert surgeon. It meant he couldn’t form relationships long enough with people to feel assured about their competencies.

Or maybe it was because of the way he’d been brought up. No child asked to be born to parents who weren’t the least bit interested in them. A child had been a necessity for the duke and duchess. Someone to carry on the family name. But that’s all he’d been. It had taken him a long time to realise that the relationship he had with his parents wasn’t entirely normal. Most kids who boarded did actually get to spend some time at home. But not Harry. It made forming relationships hard for him. He’d spent most of his childhood thinking he didn’t deserve love, and most of his wild teenage years looking for love wherever he could find it. Medicine had been his blessing. His focus. Surgery his ultimate goal. He’d managed to keep everything right on track until the death of his father had derailed one of his first surgeries.

He’d had to leave. It was unheard of for a son not to attend his father’s funeral. The gossip columns would have loved it. His mother had died years previously, so he was the only family left to make the arrangements. So, only two days after his first neonatal cardiac surgery, he’d had to travel home for the funeral.

He’d had to leave the tiny baby he’d wanted to watch like a hawk. And it had happened. The death. While he wasn’t there. His first experience of a child death review with his name as the surgeon. It was devastating for him, and had almost derailed his career. He would never know if something else could have been done to save that baby. None of them would. But it had left an indelible mark on Harry. One he couldn’t ever shake off, or forget.

These babies were his responsibility and he could never forget that. Working with a hundred different teams across a variety of continents was difficult for him. Being a visiting surgeon was hard.

Some weeks he didn’t even get to sleep in his own bed. Constantly moving from place to place—sometimes from country to country to perform his specialist kind of surgery. At first he’d liked it. Enjoyed it even.

But constantly working with different staff was wearing. He’d never considered it before, but the thought of having his own team—a team that he would train by himself and he could trust—had started to play on his mind.

He could also get to know all the staff who worked in NICU and Paeds and perhaps even have a little confidence in the people around him. He could actually start to get a life again—or even get to spend some time in his own bed, in his own home. Now that would really be a miracle.

He walked back over, the decision already made in his head. ‘Okay, Esther. You’re coming home with me.’

‘What?’ She looked entirely stunned.

He shrugged. ‘This is easy. You have two choices. You let Rob admit you, or you let me take you home and keep an eye on you overnight.’

She opened her mouth to speak but he kept talking.

‘I know what’s happened. I know the history. I’m not going to tell anyone else, and you don’t need to tell anyone you stayed with me. If you’re unwell during the night I can bring you back in.’

The stunned look hadn’t changed. Harry’s conscience was tugging at heartstrings he didn’t even know he had. But every cell in his body told him this was the right thing to do.

Rob shot him a glance and a nod. He folded his arms across his chest. ‘Sounds good to me, but it’s entirely your choice, Esther. I think you need supervision for at least the next eight hours. Where you spend them is up to you.’

She shot them both a look of complete exasperation. ‘Fine, fine.’ She threw up her hands. ‘Just let me go and get changed.’

She turned and walked off to the female changing room. Harry went into the other changing room and stowed his white coat and pulled out his jacket. He was still waiting to be allocated an office. Hospital space was always tight, so until then, he was happy to have somewhere safe to leave his things.

As he pulled his car keys from his trouser pocket he saw Esther standing at the exit to A&E. Her head was turning from side to side as if she were contemplating the option to run. The weather had turned and rain was bucketing down.

He moved outside, his shoulder brushing against hers. The sun was setting in the sky, sending purple streaks above them.

Harry didn’t hesitate. ‘Your place or mine?’

He could see something flit across her face. ‘Why are you doing this?’ Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

He’d asked himself the same question. ‘Because I should,’ he said simply. ‘It’s the right thing to do.’

There was a long pause, then Esther’s shoulders sagged a little, just like they had earlier, as if she’d accepted that answer. ‘It will take too long to get to mine. You must be tired. I’m sure you stay closer.’ She was saying the words but he could see something else in her eyes. Maybe she didn’t want him to see where she lived?

‘You’re sure about this?’ she repeated, her hand gripping tightly to the handle of her bag.

‘I’m sure. Come on.’ He started walking across the car park, pressing the buttons on his remote to open the doors. ‘Relax,’ he laughed over his shoulder. ‘You’re acting like I’m kidnapping you. Rob knows I’ve taken you home. If you’re never seen again, he’ll send the police after me.’

‘Oh, reassure me, why don’t you,’ she quipped back.

As they reached the car she stopped walking and looked at him, eyebrow slightly arched, as the rain thudded around them. ‘Really?’

He shrugged. ‘What? Excessive?’

She opened the door to the dark blue Aston Martin and climbed in. As he slid in beside her she shook her head. ‘No, excessive would have been a royal carriage. And at this point in the day, I’d go home in anything.’

She leaned back into the seat. ‘Should I call you James Bond, instead of Duke?’

He smiled at her teasing. ‘Harry will be fine, thanks.’ He started the engine. ‘I think I told you before I’m not far from here. Where do you live?’

‘Dagenham, not the same as you in Belgravia.’ The edges of her lips curled upwards.

He gave a nod and pulled out of the car park. No wonder she was tired. The tube between the Queen Victoria and Dagenham would add almost an hour each way onto her journey every day.

He waited until they were in the traffic before he glanced towards her. ‘So, how come you work so much?’

Her eyes were already halfway closed. She let out a sigh. ‘My mum needs some help back home. She’s had cancer and although she’s in remission the chemo and radiotherapy meant she’s never got back to full fitness and can’t get back to work.’ She turned her head. ‘I need to cover the mortgage. It’s only got a couple of years left. I can do it.’

The words came out in a stream and he knew if she hadn’t been half as exhausted she probably wouldn’t have told him any of this.

His head was immediately filled with a barrage of questions that it wasn’t good manners to ask. At least now he understood. She had a real reason to work every hour there was. She obviously felt responsible for her mum.

Something twisted in his gut. Even those few words let him know that Esther and her mother had a real bond, a real connection. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He’d never known what that felt like. His parents had always been like distant ornaments sitting on a grand mantelpiece.

He’d spent more happy years at boarding school, and at university, than he ever had being back in their grand estate. Taking ownership of the Belgravia town house had felt like a huge sigh of relief that he wouldn’t be expected to be under the same roof as them for any length of time.

Esther’s eyes were fully closed and her breathing steady. She was fast asleep and they’d barely been in the car a few minutes.

Her dark hair was coming loose from its braid and for a few moments his eyes fixated on her long dark lashes. How had he not really noticed them before?

The car behind him beeped and he moved the Aston Martin quickly through the traffic, letting some quiet music play in the background as they drove.

Esther remained fast asleep. He could still see the edge of some of the rash at the bottom of her neck. The steroids should have kicked in a few hours before. Her reaction had obviously been a bit more serious than any one of them had realised.

By the time he’d pulled into the parking for his town house, his initial confidence had waned a little. He switched off the engine and walked around to her side of the car. The lift in the converted basement could take him right up to the top floor of the town house, where the bedrooms were.

He opened the door, and paused again to see if she would wake. Nothing. ‘Esther,’ he said gently. ‘I’m just going to pick you up.’

She murmured something in reply. It didn’t sound like a no, so he slid his arms under her and picked her up, grabbing her bag and closing the car door with his hip.

The lift took them upstairs in seconds and he flicked on a light with his elbow, and walked down the corridor towards one of the empty bedrooms in his house.

They were all beautifully decorated, fresh and light. He laid her down on top of one of the beds, then slid off her shoes. He didn’t want her to panic if she woke up, so when he closed the heavy curtains, he turned the bedside light on, setting it to dim.

The en suite bathroom was stocked with supplies. She could find anything she might need in here. Her jacket pocket jangled as he slid it from her shoulders. Of course. Her new antibiotics. He couldn’t let her go without them.

He sat the antibiotics on the table and saw that Rob had added in a couple of extra antihistamines. Harry grabbed her a glass of water from the bathroom and sat out the pills she needed to take.

He spoke as gently as he could. ‘Esther, you need to take your antibiotics, and another antihistamine. You still have a bit of a reaction going on. Can you take these for me?’ He pressed them into one hand and held the glass in his other.

Something must have clicked in her brain. She didn’t open her eyes, but put the tablets in her mouth. Harry closed her hand around the glass of water and her body acted automatically, lifting the glass to her mouth and swallowing. The second it was done she hunkered back down into the bed, lying on her side.

Harry pulled a pale yellow blanket up from the bottom of the bed. She wasn’t actually under the duvet, as putting her there seemed intrusive, so he refilled her glass of water and tucked the blanket around her.

At the last moment, he scribbled a note on the pad next to her bed before he walked out and closed the door.

He’d check on her again in a few hours.

He smiled, remembering words he’d heard her say to someone else earlier that day. Something about having their head in their hands to play with if they didn’t do what they were told.

It seemed highly likely that tomorrow that person would be him.

But Harry wasn’t scared. In fact, he liked it.

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