The Rebel Doc: Tempted by Her Italian Surgeon / The Doctor's Redemption / Resisting Her Rebel Doc

Her mum’s face brightened as she gave a hesitant smile. ‘Oh, yes, well, you always look better when they get rid of some of the tubes. This is Richard. He’s visiting my neighbour in bed eight. Funnily enough, he lives on West Mews, just round the corner from us.’

From you. Ivy didn’t live there any more. It wasn’t home. Hadn’t ever been, really. And what now? Her mum chatting someone up already—she really was getting back to normal. ‘Hi, Richard. Mum, what was going on before? That alarm? All those doctors rushing around? That wasn’t … that wasn’t for you?’

‘Oh, that. It was someone in the first bay. Poor chap. I’ll be happy when they move me off here.’

So will I.

‘Hello, Mrs Leigh.’ Matteo stepped forward and Ivy realised she was still holding his hand and that her mum was looking at her strangely.

Her mum’s eyebrows rose. ‘Montgomery. Actually, it’s Dr Montgomery. But that’s okay, you can call me Angela. Everyone does. Has Ivy shown you around the town?’

‘Yes. And he was impressed with the Minster, but it’s not as beautiful as Siena Duomo, apparently. As if. It’s a darned sight older. Or at least the foundations are.’ Ivy felt the smile in her voice. She just couldn’t help it. Cathedral wars, really? Seemed they had to differ on most things, or rather they both had opinions they liked to air. But it was a good challenge. Kept her on her toes. ‘The man’s a philistine.’

‘I said it was impressive. It is,’ he clarified. ‘I liked it, truly. It just doesn’t have the romance of the Duomo’s structure.’

Angela gave him an interested smile, her lips twitching. ‘You’re right, there. I did love all that marble.’ Then she turned back to Ivy. ‘Did you bring my things? I need to freshen up.’

‘Sure.’ Ivy proffered the bag while taking in the plethora of tubes attached to her mum. ‘Do you need any help?’

‘Okay. Yes.’ Angela’s eyes flitted between Ivy and Matteo, and Ivy sensed a mother-daughter talk or something was brewing. Which would be novel. ‘Actually, that would be great.’

As her mum hobbled off towards the bathroom, IV stand in tow, Matteo squeezed Ivy’s hand and she realised she didn’t want to let it go. It was nice to have someone on her side. Which was a whole crock of crazy considering that a couple of weeks ago they’d been at loggerheads. But he gave her a gentle push. ‘Off you go. Start now.’

‘Start what?’

‘Fixing things.’

‘What if she doesn’t want to?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Would you ever want to look back and regret that you didn’t give it a go? Just be honest.’

‘She might not want to hear it.’

‘How else can you work things through, without honesty?’

‘Okay. I s’pose.’ He was right. He was often right, goddamn him. Not always … but enough to annoy her just a little bit more. She hid her smile.

As she followed her mum towards the ladies’ bathroom she felt his gaze on her back, realising that for the first time in years she hadn’t been conscious of her limp—that she was rarely self-conscious when she was with him.

Sensing him still watching her, she injected her gait with a jaunty swing of her bottom. It felt good. Mischievous, and out of character. Or maybe she had a part of her that she’d repressed? Maybe there was a part of her psyche that did want the trappings, the sex, the man? A part that she’d chosen to deny?

Wow. That was an eye-opening thought. But not one she was going to pay any more attention to. She hadn’t come this far in her life to give it all up for a life of compromise and dependency.

As if to remind her of that, her mum’s bag handle dug into her palm. Ivy tried to ignore those feelings of regret and … well, fear. Fear of feeling things. Of hurting. Of being let down. Of rejection all over again. She’d spent a good deal of her life closing herself off to people. But if Matteo was right, she needed to stop being scared. At least where her mum was concerned.

Let her in.

Let her in.

Let her in.

And she wanted to. She did. She wanted a chance.

‘How do I look?’ Angela was looking in the mirror and patting her hair, which was matted and flattened at the back. In truth, she looked tired and washed out and old. Blue-red bruises bloomed on her papery skin and her eyes were clouded.

‘Like I said, you look great, all things considered, and getting better every day. You’ve just had a life-saving operation, you’re not meant to look like something out of a magazine.’ Lifting her mum’s arm, threading the IV bag up through her nightgown sleeve and then hanging the fluid bag on the stand, Ivy gave her a smile. ‘I was so worried about you.’

‘Don’t be. I’m fine. Listen, Ivy, I need to talk to you.’

Ivy spoke to her mum’s reflection in the mirror. ‘Mum, you’re healing, you have to take it easy.’

‘There’s something I need to say.’

‘Save it for another time.’ Matteo’s big honest kick could wait until her mum was feeling better. ‘This isn’t the time or the place. You’re not well.’

‘But I need to talk about this.’ Angela nodded, still breathless, still pale, but clearly trying to act normal. Whatever that was. ‘I know I haven’t been easy to live with, Ivy. Things have been hard over the years. Depression has clouded so much, it was so disabling at times. But this scare has made me take stock of things. I want to put things right.’

‘Depression?’ Ivy had considered that over the years, but her mum had always seemed so content with a man and so unhappy without one that Ivy had thought her mum’s moods had been linked entirely with her relationship status at the time. Guilt shook through her again, but sadness too. ‘I didn’t realise. I should have, but I didn’t.’

‘You were too busy just being a girl, Ivy. I didn’t want to bother you with my problems. But I suspect you lived them anyway?’

Her childhood had been no fairy-tale. She hadn’t exactly been shielded from the dramas, especially when her step-family had been ripped away from her. She’d lost her normal, and had been plunged into her mum’s darkest moments, borne the brunt of her insecurities.

Even though this conversation was the last thing Ivy wanted, she nodded. If Angela felt up to saying this—and she really did seem to want to talk—then Ivy needed to let her say it.

Angela looked genuinely sorry. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t very good at all that. I know you got caught in the cross-fire and I leaned on you a lot at times. But I was grateful to have you.’

It never felt like it.

Hurt surged through her. This truth gig wasn’t pleasant. In fact, it was downright painful. Ivy didn’t want to relive everything that had happened, she just wanted things to be different going forward. Why drag over the old pain? Why not just try to fix things from now? ‘I’m sure you did your best.’

‘I don’t know … Now that I look back, I can see so many mistakes.’ Holding onto the sink rim, Angela looked down at her thin hands, then back at Ivy. ‘I don’t know if we can make things better. Just a little? I don’t know …’

‘Me neither.’ Was it too late for them? Ivy didn’t know. What she did know was that she didn’t want her mother to die—that had to mean something. Stepping forward, she stroked a hand on Angela’s shoulder. ‘We could try.’ Whatever that meant. There was no blueprint for the next steps they were going to take. Did her mum really mean it? Or would she revert to her old ways once she’d regained some strength?

It was a risk Ivy was willing to take. She pushed away the dark cloud hovering at the back of her mind. Things would be better now. Surely?

Her mum’s smile was a little wobbly. ‘Yes, I think we should try, Ivy. I’d like to. I’m so glad you’re here to stay for a while, we can do some nice mother-daughter things together.’

But, despite wanting to fix everything, Ivy’s heart lurched. And, yes, she knew it was terribly self-absorbed to be thinking of herself, but if she stayed too long in York and lost her job then everything she’d worked for would be gone. She’d have no security.

And no seeing Matteo.

That thought bothered her more than she’d thought it would. Over the last couple of days he’d become more than a colleague. Despite his annoying ways. Despite every barrier she’d put up.

But, on the other hand, how could she leave her mum?

Would this time to heal be any different from the rest?