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It was good to be home. Well, not quite home, Kit thought. He hadn’t actually lived in Birmingham when he’d worked there before. He’d lived in Litchford-in-Arden, a little Warwickshire village halfway between Birmingham and Stratford-upon-Avon, in a picture-postcard cottage that overlooked the village green with its duck-pond and huge oak tree. Close to an ancient church where part of his heart would always lie.
When his world had fallen apart, Kit had fled to London. He’d wanted to lose himself in the anonymity of the city, avoid the pitying glances and the sympathy of people around him. It had worked for a while, but the busyness of the city had never really eased the ache in his heart. He’d never quite been able to block it out, no matter how many hours he worked or how hard he drove himself.
Now he was back. Near enough maybe to find some peace, but far enough away that people around him wouldn’t know about the past. And, more to the point, they wouldn’t offer him the pity he didn’t want—didn’t need. He was a paediatric specialist, and a good one, on track to becoming a consultant. He’d be good for St Joseph’s, and St Joseph’s would be good for him. Yes, this was going to work out just fine.
And everything was fine until he walked into the staffroom and saw the woman in a white coat talking to another woman in a sister’s uniform. His heart missed a beat.
Tally.
Except it couldn’t be. Tally was a teacher, not a doctor. And this woman had short, cropped hair instead of Tally’s Pre-Raphaelite curls. She was thinner than Tally, too. No, he was just seeing things. Wishful thinking, maybe. And he needed to get his subconscious wishes back under control, right now. Stop seeing his ex-wife in every stranger’s face. The past was the past and it was going to stay that way.
And then the woman looked up, saw him and every bit of colour leached from her face.
He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d gone just as white. Because it really was her. It was the first time they’d met in five and a half years. ‘Tally?’ The name felt as if it had been ripped from him.
‘Natalie,’ she corrected. ‘Hello, Kit.’
Her voice was like ice. A voice that had once been warm and soft, a voice that had once slurred his name in passion.
But that had been before Ethan.
‘Do you two know each other?’ the nurse she’d been talking to asked.
‘We went to the same university,’ Tally cut in quickly. ‘We haven’t seen each other in years.’
It was the truth. But very, very far from the whole truth. Obviously Tally didn’t want to admit just how well they’d known each other.
Then again, Kit didn’t exactly want the whole truth known either. Or the gossip and speculation that was bound to go with it.
Hell, hell, hell. If he’d had any idea that Tally had become a doctor—that she was working here—he would never have come to St Joseph’s. He’d have stayed in London. Maybe even gone abroad for a while, got some experience in America or worked for Doctors Without Borders.
A quick glance at her ID badge told him that Tally was using her maiden name. Not that that meant anything. She might be married again now. Though he couldn’t see a ring on her left hand, or a tell-tale band of paler skin on her ring finger. Maybe not married, then. Probably living with someone. Family was important to Natalie. She wouldn’t be living on her own. She’d clearly moved on with her life.
Just like he had.
And he damped down the ‘if only’ before it had a chance to echo in his head.
He focused on the nurse and extended his hand. ‘Kit Rodgers. Pleased to meet you. I’m the new boy.’
And I’m Debbie Jacobs. Senior sister, for my sins.’ The nurse smiled at him. ‘Well, you’ve plenty in common with our Natalie, then. She’s new, too—she started yesterday.’ She gave them both a curious look. ‘Since you know each other, you two must have a lot to catch up on.’
Natalie’s reaction was clearly written on her face. Not if I can help it.
‘We didn’t really know each other that well,’ Kit said coolly. Again, not the whole truth, but true enough. By the end, they’d been complete strangers. Living separate lives. And he’d wondered if he’d ever really known her.
‘Natalie, maybe you can show Kit where everything is?’
‘Um, yes. Sure.’ And she smiled.
Oh, hell. He knew that smile. The bright one that pretended nothing was wrong—when, inside, everything was wrong. The one that spelled trouble with a capital T.
This was surreal. Natalie was showing Kit around the ward—and they were both acting as if they were polite strangers. Considering they’d known each other much more intimately, this was crazy.
‘So you’re a house officer. I didn’t know you’d become a doctor. Your parents never said,’ Kit remarked.
Natalie stared at him in shock. Her parents? Why would her parents have said anything to him about her change in career? ‘You stayed in touch with them?’
He shrugged. ‘Just Christmas and birthdays.’
Strange. She couldn’t remember ever seeing a card from him on the mantelpiece. Or maybe her mum had kept it to one side when she had been around. Trying to save her daughter from more hurt. Seeing Kit’s name in a card, maybe with another woman’s name added after it.
And Natalie had to admit, it would’ve hurt. A lot. Even though, logically, she knew, of course, Kit had moved on. He was probably married by now. A man like Kit Rodgers wouldn’t have stayed on his own for long. With cornflower blue eyes, dark hair and a killer smile, he was drop-dead gorgeous. Women adored him. Even when she’d been married to him, women had chased him. He’d never been short of offers, even though he’d always turned them down. Lack of fidelity wasn’t one of his faults.
‘You know your mum,’ Kit continued. ‘She always writes a lovely note in with a card.’
He sounded affectionate towards her parents. Though it wasn’t so surprising. She knew he’d loved them—and they’d adored him. So had her younger sisters. Kit had the ability to charm just about anyone he met. Of course her parents would have stayed in touch with him.
Though Kit’s parents hadn’t stayed in touch with her. Also not surprising: they’d always been slightly wary of each other. Kit’s family had always made her feel as if she wasn’t quite good enough, as if a BA and a PCGE were somehow the second-class option, well beneath the notice of a family of doctors. She’d never really fitted in. Kit’s parents and his three older brothers had all been medics, all high flyers. They’d seen her as a distraction, the person who’d stopped Kit achieving his full potential. She knew it wasn’t true and she would have shrugged it off quite cheerfully, had it not been the fact they’d blamed her for Ethan.
Natalie pushed the thought back where it belonged— locked away with all the other feelings—and gave him a whistle-stop tour of the ward. ‘This is the staffroom. Lockers here, kettle here, tea and coffee here, mugs in that cupboard, biscuits in the tin, milk in the fridge. Debbie has the kitty—and she’s the one you tell if you notice we’re running low on anything.’ Out of the staffroom, back on to the ward. ‘Nurses’ station, patient board, so you know who’s the nominated nurse, parents’ phone, parents’ room.’
Done and dusted.
‘Thank you, Tally.’
‘Natalie,’ she corrected, annoyed at the amusement in his voice. So what if she’d rushed showing him round? Besides, she wasn’t ‘Tally’ any more. To anyone.
She sneaked a glance at him. He’d barely changed in the last few years. A couple of grey hairs around his temples, a couple more lines on his face. But basically Kit Rodgers was the same. The epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Charming and easygoing with it, too—the female staff in the hospital would be falling at his feet in droves. So would the patients. And their parents. There wouldn’t be any difficult cases on Nightingale Ward when Kit Rodgers was around: that easy-going smile was too infectious. Men would identify with him and women would fall for him. He’d manage to get a good response from even the stroppiest parent.
Except maybe from her.
She knew better. She’d keep things cool and professional between them.
He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, she noticed. Not that that meant anything. He hadn’t worn one before either. Well, she wasn’t going to ask him if he was married. And she definitely wasn’t going to ask the question that usually went with that one. She wasn’t interested.
Ha. Who was she trying to kid? More like, she wasn’t sure she could handle the answer.
‘I, um, need to get ready for the ward round,’ she said. ‘Catch you later.’ As in preferably much later. Better still, as in not at all. ‘Lenox’s office is just there.’
And she walked away, quickly, while she still could.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_6a21f56a-725b-5240-a8df-4a0730e7bd98)
NATALIE managed to avoid Kit for most of the morning, and at lunchtime she had the unimpeachable excuse of needing to get her shoes reheeled during her lunch-break. But in the afternoon they were both rostered to the outpatient clinic. Thrown together. No respite.
Well, she could deal with this. Kit was just another doctor. A colleague. She’d keep him neatly pigeonholed there.
‘So, would this be your first clinic since you qualified?’ Kit asked as they headed to the outpatients area.
‘Yes,’ she admitted.
‘OK. You lead. I’ll be here for back-up, if you need me.’
Being supportive? Kit? Well. Maybe he’d grown up in the last six years. He was thirty now, after all. And he was the more experienced doctor out of the two of them. Several rungs higher than she was. He was just doing what she’d do if the positions were reversed. Giving a junior doctor a chance to gain experience, with a safety net if it was needed.
But this was her first proper clinic. And he wanted her to lead. Take responsibility. ‘What if I miss something?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘Then I’ll bring it up in conversation with the parents. But I won’t tear you off a strip in front of them or make you look incompetent, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
She felt her skin heat. ‘I wasn’t sniping at you. What I meant was, I might get something wrong, put a patient at risk.’ She was worried that she wasn’t totally ready for this, that maybe in her first clinic she should take a supportive role rather than a lead. ‘Are you going to take everything I say personally, for goodness’ sake?’
He raked a hand through his hair. ‘No. Sorry.’
It had probably been gut reaction. She supposed it must be just as difficult for him, having to work with her and ignore their history. And there had been plenty of sniping in their last few months together. Mainly by her—because Kit hadn’t been there often enough and the frustration and misery had made her temper short.
‘You’ll be fine in clinic. You’re qualified, so you obviously know your stuff. If it’s something with a tricky diagnosis, something that could easily be mistaken for a different condition, I’ll be here to take a look. I’ll give a second opinion when you ask for it, and I’ll back you up,’ Kit said.
Just what she needed to hear. And if only he’d been that supportive all those years ago, when she’d really needed him. Someone she could have leaned on when her strength had deserted her.
But you couldn’t change the past. Mentally, Natalie slammed the door on it and locked the key.
The first parent on their list was Ella Byford. She was reading a story to two rather grubby children who seemed to be squabbling about who was going to get the best place on her lap, while rubbing her back in the way that most heavily pregnant women did.
Something Natalie had once—
No. She clenched her teeth hard, just once, to relieve the tension, then reminded herself to keep her personal life out of this. She was a doctor. A paediatrician in training. This was her job. And she was going to do it well. She pinned a smile on her face. ‘Hello, Mrs Byford. I’m Natalie Wilkins and this is Kit Rodgers. We’re holding the paediatric clinic today. What can we do for you?’
‘It’s Charlene. Jayden’s all right, he’s doing fine.’ Ella waved a dismissive hand towards her son. ‘But Charlene’s so skinny. She’s not doing as well as she should. She’s always been small for dates, but she’s getting worse.’ Ella bit her lip. ‘I went to see my GP about her, and he sent me here.’
‘Let’s have a look at her,’ Natalie said. She knelt on the floor so she was nearer to the little girl’s height. ‘Hello, Charlene.’
‘’Lo.’ The little girl looked at her and scowled.
OK, she could do this. Thin, small for dates. The little girl was quite pale—perhaps she just didn’t get to play outside very much, or her mum was rigorous with a high protection factor suncream. Or maybe it was anaemic pallor. Natalie needed to check for icterus—or a yellowish colour—too. Starting with the child’s fingernails, palms, mucous membranes of the mouth and the conjunctiva. The conjunctiva would be the tricky part—children hated having their eyes fussed with.
‘Can you open your mouth for me and say “a-ah”?’ she asked.
A-ah.’ It lasted all of half a second, but it was enough to show Natalie that there was slight pallor in Charlene’s mouth but no icterus. It didn’t look as if there were any ulcers, but if Natalie saw any other sinister signs in the rest of the examination she’d try for a second look.
‘And can I look at your hands now?’
Charlene scowled at her and tried to climb back on her mother’s lap.
‘Charlene, be nice for the doctor,’ Ella admonished her.
‘It’s not fair. I want to sit on your lap. He always does.’ Charlene shoved at her brother, who promptly fell off Ella’s lap and started howling.
Kit stepped in smoothly. ‘Hey. How about I read you a story, Jayden, while the doctor talks to your mum and your sister?’ He took two shiny stickers from his pocket. ‘And if you can both sit really still while the doctor’s talking— and while the doctor’s looking at you, Charlene—you can both have a special sticker.’
Why hadn’t she thought of that? Natalie wondered. And as a distraction technique it clearly worked, because Charlene immediately nodded, climbed onto her mother’s lap and sat still, while Jayden plonked himself on Kit’s lap so he could see the pictures in the story book. Ella, who’d looked close to tears, suddenly relaxed.
Teamwork. Good teamwork. And Natalie wasn’t going to let herself think about the fact that Kit was reading a story to a little boy.
‘OK, Charlene. Shall we see if your hands are bigger than mine?’
‘Don’t be silly. They’ll be smaller.’
‘Bet they’re not,’ Natalie said, putting her own hands behind her back.
Charlene giggled. ‘They are.’
‘Show me, then.’
To Natalie’s relief, when she brought her hands round again, Charlene splayed her palms and pressed them against Natalie’s.
‘Side by side now. Palm up,’ Natalie said.
The little girl, clearly thinking it was a game, did as she asked. Her palms were definitely pale, though at least there was no sign of yellowness.
‘And the back, to see if you have princess nails?’
‘You haven’t got princess nails. They’re not glittery,’ Charlene said.
Natalie was glad that Charlene’s weren’t either: it gave her the chance to notice that the little girl’s fingernails were concave.
‘Can I look at your tummy now?’
‘Can I look at yours?’ Charlene asked.
‘Not this time,’ Natalie said with a smile. She definitely wasn’t baring any flesh in front of Kit. ‘But if you want to play doctors while I talk to your mummy, you can look at a doll’s tummy and see what you can hear through my stethoscope.’
Charlene wriggled a bit, but submitted to an examination. Natalie palpated her abdomen gently. She didn’t think there was a problem with the spleen, but maybe she should ask Kit for a second opinion. No sign of petechiae, reddish-purple pinhead spots, which would lead to a more sinister diagnosis. And, she was pleased to note, there were no signs of enlarged lymph nodes in Charlene’s neck.
As soon as she’d finished, Charlene was wriggling around on Ella’s lap again, and Ella pressed one fist into her lower back for support. Natalie gave Ella a sympathetic smile. It must be hard, dealing with small children when you were heavily pregnant and tired.
‘She’s a handful for such a little scrap,’ Ella said, looking embarrassed.
Oh, no. That hadn’t been what she’d intended at all. Or maybe Ella was just used to being defensive about her little girl. ‘Lively, the medical term is,’ Natalie said with a smile. ‘How’s she eating?’
Ella grimaced. ‘She’s picky. She won’t eat any vegetables—she just throws them on the floor—and she doesn’t like anything with meat in it, even if I try to hide it. But I can get her to eat potatoes and eggs, and she drinks milk and fruit juice.’
It was nowhere near a balanced diet, and Ella was clearly aware of it—distressed about it, too, so Natalie decided to take the gentle approach. ‘Kids are notorious for that—one day they’ll eat something, and the next they won’t touch it,’ she said reassuringly. ‘How about you take me through right from the start, from when she was first born?’ She could already see that Charlene had had a low birthweight, something that could predispose her to anaemia. ‘Did she have any jaundice afterwards?’
‘She was a bit yellow, but the midwife said it was normal.’
Natalie nodded. ‘Most babies have it to some extent.’ Though Ethan hadn’t. He’d been a perfect seven and a half pounds. No problems at all. Prolonged jaundice in the newborn could suggest congenital anaemia. ‘How long did it last?’
‘A week or so.’
