The Valtieri Marriage Deal

‘Luca, I can’t talk about this here. I have to work.’

‘So do I, now. But later—’

‘No, Luca,’ she said firmly, shaking her head and hanging on to the last shreds of her dignity. ‘I told you I didn’t want to see you again, and I meant it. I’m sorry, I don’t want to talk to you, either now or later. Please—just leave me alone.’

‘Isabelle, please, give me a few minutes—’

‘No. Go away, Luca. Please.’

Turning on her heel, she ignored his protest, walked into the staff room, closed the door behind her and burst into tears.

‘Izzie?’

‘Go away, Sarah,’ she mumbled, her hands pressed hard over her mouth to keep in the sobs that were tearing her apart.

‘No. Oh, sweetheart, what’s happened? Who is he? What did he say to you?’

She dragged herself together, sniffing hard and lifting her chin firmly. ‘Nothing. Really—please—I’ll be fine. I have to go to handover. I—I can’t—’

‘Rubbish. Here, you need a tissue and a cup of tea.’

‘No. Well, yes, the tissue,’ she said with a fractured laugh, ‘but I haven’t got time for tea. I’ve just got to get on.’

‘So who is he?’

‘Luca? He’s a guy I met in Florence.’

Sarah’s eyes widened. ‘Really? Oh, my God—why ever did you come back?’

She laughed a little crazily. ‘Because it was just one day? Because I have a life here, and he lives in Italy?’

‘Well, it doesn’t look like it. He’s Richard’s new locum, covering the maternity leave post.’

‘What?’ Shock nearly took the legs out from under her, and Sarah hugged her hard and steered her to a chair. ‘Sarah, you’re joking. He said he was doing Richard a favour, helping him out. I assumed he meant some research or something.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘Sorry, Izzie, he’s here, and he’s working in the unit, and you’re going to have to see him every day.’

‘Every…’ She dragged in a lungful of air. ‘Oh, God, no! I’m going on holiday. How long’s he here for?’

‘I don’t know. Weeks, I suppose. Months, maybe.’

Months?

‘Will you be OK with that? Can you do it? Because I don’t think you’ve got that much holiday,’ Sarah said with a vain attempt at a smile.

Probably not, but—work with him? For months? Oh, lord. Maybe she could get a transfer? Or maybe she should just get a grip.

‘Of course I can,’ she lied, straightening her spine and blowing her nose hard. ‘I’ll have to. Just keep him away from me, and I’ll be fine.’

And without giving Luca another thought—well, that was a lie, but she had to pretend—she threw herself into her work. Which would have been fine, of course, if it hadn’t been for the first labouring woman she checked.

Superficially, there was nothing wrong, but it was her third baby and third babies could often be a bit different. The notes contained no special warnings, the last ultrasound scan had been fine and there was technically nothing to worry about. Certainly nothing had been mentioned at handover, but the moment she went into the woman’s room, she just felt a little tingle of suspicion.

‘Hi, Julie, I’m Isabelle, I’m going to be looking after you now during your labour,’ she said with a smile as she ran her eyes over her patient and skimmed the notes. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Oh, I love the epidural,’ she said with a heartfelt chuckle. ‘It’s marvellous. Just like going to the dentist, only I’m going to have a baby, not a filling!’

Isabelle smiled and checked her over, listening to the baby’s heart with the foetal stethoscope. Was that a little hitch?

‘Can I just turn you on your side, Julie? I can’t quite hear.’ She helped the woman adjust her position, checked again, then shook her head. ‘I still can’t hear enough. I’d like to put the monitor on you to get a better feel for what’s going on.’

‘Sure. It does seem awfully slow, this labour.’

‘Well, that can be the epidural. Because you’re lying down, you aren’t getting any help from gravity, but I think it’s just as well to check, don’t you?’

She was setting up the machine as she worked, explaining to Julie how the cardiotocograph would give her the baby’s heart rate and the pressure of the uterus, and also, most importantly, the correlation of the heart rate to the contractions.

And, sure enough, every time Julie had a contraction, the baby’s heart rate dipped.

‘So is there a problem?’ she asked, looking more worried now.

‘I’m not sure. Probably not, but it is dragging on a bit and I don’t think your baby’s very happy at the moment, so I’ll get a doctor to take a look at you to be on the safe side,’ she said with a reassuring smile. ‘We might need to hurry things along a little.’

She stuck her head out of the door and looked around, just as Sarah came out of the sluice. ‘You couldn’t page the on-call register for me, could you? I’ve got a query with Mrs Marchant.’

‘Sure—oh, there he is. Luca, Izzie wants you.’

Oh, perfect. Luca—of course, looking more gorgeous than a man had any right to look in shapeless scrubs. And Sarah’s phrasing left a lot to be desired, as well! Oh, hell.

She straightened her shoulders and tried to find a professional face. She could do this. She could…

Luca walked towards her, wishing he hadn’t taken this locum job to help his old friend out, wishing he’d just found Isabelle and spoken to her, but when he’d walked out of Richard’s office this morning and seen her again, it had seemed like the answer to his prayers.

Now he wasn’t at all sure. Ever since he’d set eyes on her again he’d been hoping that being forced to work together might give them a chance to get to know each other, find out if they had anything worth pursuing, but her face was closed, her lips pressed tightly together, and he realised that working with her could be a nightmare. She’d got issues of some sort. God knows what, but, given time, he was sure he’d be able to break through them. He had before—and how. He only hoped that he’d be able to remain professional until then, because all he wanted to do right now was wrap his arms around her and tell her it was all right—and if he tried it, she’d probably kill him. Thank God there was a patient in the way!

‘Problems?’ he mouthed as he reached her, and she nodded.

‘Maybe,’ she murmured quietly, and he realised with relief that she was going to behave as if nothing had happened—for now, at least. ‘Julie Marchant, third pregnancy, straightforward previous history, admitted late last night in early labour. She had an epidural at five a.m.—so that’s three hours ago, she’s had two top-ups, but progress has slowed right down even though she’s virtually fully dilated, and there’s a dipping foetal heart rate—nothing much, but I’m just…’

She ground to a halt with a little shrug and bit her lip, and he dragged his eyes off it and made himself concentrate.

‘Is the head high?’ he asked.

‘A little. It’s probably nothing, just the mother’s position…’

But she looked troubled, and he knew better than to ignore a troubled midwife. He gave a terse nod. ‘Give me ten seconds, I have to make a note of something and I’ll be with you.’

Isabelle went back to her patient, and moments later he joined her, squirting gel onto his hands and rubbing it in as he smiled at their patient and tried to focus on her.