Nell made her request the moment he straightened up.
Barbaro remained staring at Molly, waiting for signs of improvement, she guessed.
‘Not yet.’
‘When?’ But the powerful engines started up at that moment, drowning out her voice, and then the launch surged forward, fixing her in place. Nell waited until she judged it safe to move—
‘Sit down!’
The harsh command shunted ice through her veins. She speared a look of resentment at him, but at that moment the launch picked up speed, and as it thrust forward the prow lifted, tilting the deck at an extreme angle. Thrown off balance, she was forced to make a grab for one of the upright poles and cling on desperately.
Barbaro’s voice reached her over the roar of the engines. ‘Police launches and ambulances break the speed limits inside the city and we’ll be going even faster when we reach the Grand Canal. Get back to your seat and sit down now. It isn’t safe to stand up.’
Tears of frustration welled in Nell’s eyes. ‘You might have warned me.’ But Barbaro had already turned back to tend to Molly. She tried to get back to her seat, but the launch hit another boat’s wake and lurched unexpectedly.
Nell finally staggered back to her seat, where the weight of emotion pinned her in place. Terror made her want to cry, to sob hysterically and shout out: why? Why Molly? The emotion building in her throat, in her chest was nearly choking her. She guessed that everyone on board would be used to emotional incontinence—all the more reason not to give way to it. She would hold herself in check—do whatever it took not to distract them from treating Molly. Her chest was heaving convulsively, but she made herself calm down. Then at last Dr Barbaro stood back and she could see Molly clearly.
Nell paled. There were so many tubes and wires connected to Molly’s tiny frame. She stared up fearfully, trying to read Luca Barbaro’s face, his eyes…She was so hungry for information. Why didn’t he say something to her?
‘Can I sit with Molly now?’ Her voice was small. ‘Can I hold her?’
‘You might dislodge the drip.’
The drip? She hadn’t noticed it before, but now she did. It was suspended above Molly like an abomination. ‘I wouldn’t—’ Nell’s throat seemed to be caught in a vice. ‘Does she need that?’
‘It’s used for rehydration, and we’re giving antibiotics too, as a precaution.’
Nell frowned. ‘You don’t know what’s wrong with my daughter but you’re pumping her full of drugs?’
‘I consider it necessary.’
‘And what’s that machine?’ She wanted to know. She wanted to know everything. She wanted to drive him, drive him hard. How else was she to find out what was going on? How else was she going to let him know she was there for Molly?
‘A nebuliser. It delivers the medicine in a fine mist so the patient can breathe it in without it disturbing them.’
‘Without it disturbing them?’ Nell shuddered as she stared at the mask on Molly’s face, the coarse green elastic binding her fine baby hair to her moist skin. The noise from the machine was enough to disturb anyone. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? Nothing was going to disturb Molly; nothing could disturb her while she was in this condition.
The sooner they arrived at the hospital the sooner she could breathe easily again, Nell realised. Or maybe not even then. Maybe this man was representative of the type of cold-hearted individual she was going to find there. Something inside her said, if she could just touch Molly, give her love…
‘I won’t disturb her, and I won’t pull anything out.’
She suffered his scrutiny in silence, holding herself together in the hope of passing his test.
‘All right,’ he agreed finally and, Nell guessed, reluctantly. ‘I’ll lift her onto your knee and then you can hold her while she inhales the medicine.’
‘Thank you.’ She was so grateful, all her feelings of hostility towards him started to fade. ‘Does she need the drip as well as the mask?’ Nell tried not to let her gaze linger on the fine tubing hanging from Molly’s slender arm. Molly had never needed a plaster to cover an abrasion in her whole life, let alone required a needle to be inserted in her arm…
‘It’s the most efficient way I know to administer antibiotics and rehydrate the body.’
The body? Nell gasped involuntarily.
‘Your daughter,’ he corrected himself tersely.
Had she got through to him? His dispassionate voice suggested otherwise. ‘The most efficient way you know? How can I be sure you know what you’re doing?’
‘You can’t. I’ll have to take her off you if you are going to get upset.’
‘Don’t threaten me! I’ve got no intention of breaking down, I can assure you,’ she managed coldly, staring into his eyes until he looked away. Then she drank in every nuance of Molly’s changed appearance. Rather than its usual porcelain perfection, Molly’s complexion was ashen and her lips were tinged with blue…like her nails. She looked up again. ‘I think it’s time you told me what’s going on.’
‘When I know I’ll tell you, and not before.’
He was not prepared to deliver a diagnosis that might be disproved once the child was admitted to hospital, where all the necessary tests could be carried out, nor was he accustomed to being harangued—let alone by some pixie-haired termagant with eyes like cobalt searchlights. He’d been looking forward to some hard-won down time when the call came through from Marco, the gondolier. He hadn’t had chance to eat or to drink all day, let alone take a shower, or shave. And his reward for a being a good citizen? A woman who scrutinised his every move as if he were a first-year med student!
If the child hadn’t been so sick he would have left her in the care of his very competent colleagues on board the ambulance. Then her mother could have driven them crazy with her questions. His focus was always on the people under his care. Relatives and friends were the province of his nurses. They acted as intermediaries for him, shielding him from distraction—just the way he liked it. If Nell Foster wanted more—well, she couldn’t have it.
But something made him wonder about her backstory. Why had Ms Foster stripped every bit of feminine allure from her appearance? There wasn’t a suggestion of femininity in her baggy clothes, and the spiky hair was a good indicator for her personality. Her face looked as though it had never seen make-up, and yet her eyebrows were beautifully shaped, and her eyes, fringed with long black lashes, were beautiful. Her teeth were film-star perfect—a fact he could attest to with confidence, since she drew back her lips to snarl at him as many times as most people cast deferential smiles in his direction.
Deferential, her? That was a laugh! She evidently hated doctors, mistrusted them…and him most of all. In this situation he would have expected her to be grateful, hanging on his every word, but she couldn’t have made it plainer that she considered him to be a threat rather than a help to her daughter.
Nevertheless, she stirred feelings in him he was finding it hard to ignore. Her attitude irritated him, he was affronted by it, but there was something more, something electric…But those feelings were not only unusual for him, they were also forbidden to a man in his position. It was more than his fledgling career was worth to…
To what? Sleep with Nell Foster?
That was what he’d wanted to do since the first moment he’d set eyes on her—and therefore he had to put distance between them the moment he could.
Chapter Three
‘I’M STILL waiting for an explanation,’ she reminded him.
He watched her glance sweep across the lines and tubes attached to his patient. Nell Foster was continually harassing him and questioning his judgement. Part of him resented it, part admired her spirit, but most of all he was concerned for the child lying so still and silent on the stretcher. He didn’t want to show the mother how concerned he was. She was steadier now and he wanted to keep her that way. Too much knowledge would frighten her, too little might raise her hopes.
He f
ound himself assessing her covertly. The mother was very different from the child. Nell Foster was robust, her features strong and clearly defined. It followed that the child must take after her father, which opened up more questions. He made himself stop and turn back to his charge. The little girl’s eyes were as vividly blue as her mother’s—he’d seen that when he checked her over. But was her gaze half as direct? He could only hope she was a fighter like her mother.
‘I’m still waiting!’
He turned his professional face to Nell. Her wide, intelligent gaze assured him she wouldn’t let up. It also hit him forcibly in the chest. Clearing his throat, he gazed at the roof of the cabin and launched into a reasonable explanation without giving too much detail. ‘There’s some congestion in your daughter’s lungs. I’m trying to ease her breathing.’ He stopped there, but even this was a first. He never divulged information piecemeal, never uttered a word that wasn’t backed up by hard fact. There was a whole range of tests he would have to carry out before he could be sure of his diagnosis…
‘When will you be able to give me some real answers?’
He had to look at her. ‘Soon, I hope.’
‘You hope?’ She was scathing. ‘How soon can we get someone else to look at Molly—someone who can do more than hope?’
Her mouth was set in a firm line, which drew his attention to her lips. He ignored the insult, and tried to ignore her lips. He brought professionalism to bear like a steel curtain, cutting Nell Foster out of the picture. ‘At the very least, I’ll need an X-ray to confirm my diagnosis. The drugs should help—’
‘Should?’
‘Medicine is not an exact science.’ He couldn’t believe how pompous he sounded.
‘So why not leave her alone until we reach the hospital? Anyone can see she’s sleeping. I think it would be better if you left her to rest rather than pumping her full of drugs before you know what you’re doing!’
‘Oh, do you?’ He’d had enough, but bit his tongue and focused on the child lying on the stretcher. How could he tell Nell Foster that her daughter wasn’t sleeping, but unconscious?
‘If Molly is having difficulty breathing,’ Nell persisted, ‘we should be able to hear something. Coughing, wheezing.’ Her eyes sharpened with certainty, and as he watched hope flood her face something rapped again on the stone he called a heart.
‘Nell, stop this!’
He didn’t know why he’d used her first name in such an emotional and unprofessional way, but the strange thing was that when Nell Foster’s eyes filled with tears his stung too. And it was not just tiredness that made him empathise with his patient’s mother—there was something more, something he had never let through before. There was fragility behind her bravado; he could hear it like a silent cry of desperation. ‘It isn’t always that simple,’ he said carefully. Most people would be content with that.
He should have known. ‘Go on,’ Nell said, firming her jaw.
He looked at her and measured her strength. It didn’t fall short, and that was something he could connect to. He owed it to her to be straight. ‘Sometimes, when things are really serious, there’s very little to hear at all.’
‘Really serious?’ She looked at him and he saw her spirit crumple; the fire went out of her, which again, incredibly, hurt him like hell.
What was this? What was happening to him? He never got involved emotionally. It was one of the first things he’d learned at med school—the moment you became prey to your emotions you were no use to anyone, least of all your patient. ‘Try not to get upset.’ He knew it sounded trite but he didn’t know what to say, had never felt like this before. He longed to escape the suffocating tension swirling round the cabin.
‘What do you suggest?’ Her voice was shaking with emotion. ‘Am I supposed to remove myself to some emotion-free zone when I’ve just been told my daughter is dangerously ill?’
He could think of nothing to say.
‘Luca?’ she pressed.
Her use of his first name gave him a jolt, even though he knew it was merely a measure of her desperation. ‘We can only wait now,’ he said honestly.
Did he really think she was going to crumble? Nell wondered, holding Luca’s gaze. Maybe at one time in her life she might have broken down, but not now. The turning point had been Molly’s birth. She’d had something to fight for since then. She would keep this vigil with him, keep it and will Molly well again.
Nell forced herself to look at everything dispassionately, to listen and become accustomed to all the alien sights and sounds: the nebuliser humming, the launch’s engines throbbing, the muted Italian exchanges rising and falling expressively around her like a song.
‘Andiamo!’
Luca barked out his instruction as they turned into the wide stretch of water that formed the main thoroughfare through Venice. It jolted Nell back to reality, made it hard to cling to the little life-raft of calm she had formed in her mind. She clutched the seat, ready now as the launch tipped at an even steeper angle. But the momentum jerked her forward and she was only stopped from slipping off the seat by Luca’s whip-fast reactions.
‘Sit back as far as you can, or I’ll have to take her from you.’
His voice was as harsh as before. She had put too much store in the brief flash of kindness. Nell drew Molly closer. No one was going to take Molly from her. Her daughter was back where she belonged, where she was going to stay…
‘Don’t hold her so tightly.’
She loosened her grip immediately. She wanted to get it right for Molly.
‘If you must lean on something, lean on me.’
Lean on him? ‘I’d rather not.’
‘Just until you become used to the rhythm of the boat—’
‘I can manage, thank you!’ Nell shrank away, relieved when Luca seemed to have second thoughts and left her to have a word with the captain of the boat, but even his back view was unsettling.
Dr Luca Barbaro was a manifestation of everything Nell knew she had to fear. He was arrogant, with an iron resolve, along with an innate certainty that everything he did or said was right. She took in the wide shoulders blocking out the light, the legs aggressively planted on the deck to keep him steady…the hands she could only describe as fighting, strong hands, but with a doctor’s long, tapering fingers. Every square inch of the flesh she could see appeared to be tanned a uniform bronze. Luca Barbaro would have fit well in some medical drama played out on television—one where the lead doctor was improbable heartthrob material. She could only hope he possessed more qualifications than his Hollywood counterparts.
Nell tried to relax, tried to settle into the rhythm of the boat so that Molly would be comfortable. But her thoughts kept on colliding like skittles. How long before they reached the hospital? How long before they found a proper doctor? How long before someone told her what was wrong with Molly?
‘I’ll take her now.’
Had they arrived? Nell looked up and realised they had. As she started to get up Luca stopped her.
‘I’ll take her,’ he repeated. ‘She’ll be safer with me.’
Safer? How could a child be safer anywhere than in its mother’s arms? But there was such a tangle of wires and tubes hanging from Molly, Nell was terrified she might dislodge one of them.
Luca put his free hand on her shoulder and pressed her down. ‘I want you to wait for one of the men to help you disembark. I live and work in Venice, so I’m used to travelling at high speed on water. You might be a little unsteady on your feet.’
She had vowed not to let Molly out of her sight, but what if she stumbled and hurt her in some way—pulled out one of the tubes?
As she watched them go, Nell suffered a presentiment; the dark cloud enveloping her made her doubly impatient to disembark. ‘Look after her,’ she called.
Luca Barbaro didn’t look back as he walked swiftly away with Molly and one of the paramedics at his side, holding the drip.
The men on board the launch seemed to take so
long securing the mooring ropes, though it could only have been a matter of seconds, Nell reasoned, telling herself to be calm. She had no option but to wait until they had finished in order to have Molly’s pushchair brought up from the hold. Meanwhile she followed Molly’s progress on shore. There was a nurse waiting for the new patient outside the hospital gates. Luca didn’t break stride as he drew level with the man; the only concession he made was to angle his head to accommodate the nurse’s shorter frame as they exchanged information, and then they disappeared through some gates.
She was like a hare out of the traps when one of the crew finally came to help. But Luca had been right, and she was glad of the man’s steadying hand as she left the launch. The swirling brown water looked far from inviting from this angle, and she couldn’t adjust to terra firma right away.
‘Piano, piano, signora,’ the man insisted, holding on to her.
Nell claimed the pushchair, called her thanks and was off. It was as if Molly had left a burning trail, which if she hurried she was sure she could follow.
‘Signora?’ A security guard stood in her way.
‘What do you want?’ Nell knew she sounded impatient, and her voice was shaking, but Molly’s trail was growing cold. ‘I’m with Dr Barbaro.’
The guard stood firm.
‘You have to let me go inside. Dr Barbaro has taken my daughter into the hospital.’ She mimed, pointing, hoping he understood. ‘You must have seen them? They were here just a minute ago. You have to let me pass!’
But the language barrier proved insurmountable. ‘Signora, per favore…’
‘No! You have to let me in!’ Her voice was desperate, and she tried to twist past him. But the security guard had seen it all and put his hand on the gate, stopping her.
‘Mi dispiace…’ Nell struggled to compose herself. ‘I’m sorry.’ She used her hands to make placating gestures while she racked her brain for some useful words. None would come. Her knowledge of Italian was so limited. She tried smiling—that always worked. ‘I don’t speak Italian, signor.’ It was so hard trying to appear normal, rational, calm—the type of person a security guard would happily allow inside his hospital. Impossible, in fact, when the world and everything in it was swirling in front of her eyes and the only image she could see clearly was Molly lying in Luca Barbaro’s arms. Molly attached to tubes and wires, Molly’s beautiful face half-hidden by a mask. Molly. ‘Per piacere, signore…’ Nell was nearly sobbing now.
A Venetian Affair Page 20