The Doctor's Lost-and-Found Bride

‘Just go,’ Max cut in. ‘The child obviously needs you.’ He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘your daughter’; the words made his throat feel as if it were closing, and he was angry with himself for not being able to get a grip. He should be happy that Marina’s life was on track and that she’d clearly found a partner who loved her the way she deserved to be loved. The fact that he hadn’t moved on and found someone else himself was his own stupid fault, and it wasn’t fair to blame her for his own shortcomings. ‘I’ll arrange cover.’

‘Thank you.’ This time, her smile was genuine, gratitude, clearly mixed with fear for her child; she looked worried sick. And for good reason; he’d been told that the previous month the hospital had had to put a ban on visitors because so many patients and staff had been struck down by the winter vomiting-virus.

He didn’t have time to add that he hoped it was nothing serious, because Marina had already left, walking very quickly, the way junior doctors soon learned to do so they could cover the ground between the on-call room and a department at maximum speed and with minimum risk.

To his surprise, Marina was back in the department again within two hours.

What the hell was she doing here? Her daughter was ill and needed her, and yet Marina was at work. Her priorities were way out of line. ‘Shouldn’t you be at home?’ he demanded.

Marina shook her head. ‘It’s OK. Mum’s taken over. I rang her on the way to collect Phoebe.’

‘Your mother’s looking after Phoebe?’ He stared at her in disbelief. Just what was going on here? He knew that family was important to Marina, and given the way she’d fallen apart when she’d lost their baby he would’ve bet good money that she would always put her child before her job—before anything else. How could she just dump her sick daughter on her mother’s doorstep?

Then again, the cost of living was high in London. Perhaps she and her partner were struggling financially and needed her salary to survive—what was left of it, after the cost of childcare.

‘What about the child’s father?’ The question was out before he could stop it.

She looked defensive. ‘Neil’s really busy at work. I can’t expect him to drop everything. Not when—’

‘Save it. It’s none of my business,’ he cut in. He knew he was being rude, but he was angry—with himself, as much as with her. Why couldn’t he get his head round the fact that Marina had moved on, that she’d found happiness with someone else? Why was he so selfish that he couldn’t be pleased for her, or relieved that she wasn’t stuck in the same limbo of misery that he was?

She said nothing, but her face looked pinched, and her dark eyes were wary whenever she spoke to him for the rest of the afternoon.

As Max’s anger faded, he realised how just unfair he’d been. Which was why he sent Marina off the ward at five o’clock sharp.

‘I can’t leave when we still have a patient to treat,’ she said in a low voice.

‘We’ll manage without you.’

‘But—’

‘Phoebe needs you. Go home.’

‘But—’

‘Go home,’ he repeated, trying to make his voice gentle. It was obvious that Marina was torn between her child and her duty; he had no intention of making the choice any more difficult for her.

But he thought about it for the rest of the evening—and wondered. Had their child been ill, how would he have acted? He was pretty sure he knew—and his choice wouldn’t have been the same as Neil’s.

Then again, he hadn’t exactly been a perfect husband to Marina. He hadn’t been there when she’d needed him. Yes, work had been busy, but he’d used his career as an excuse to avoid facing the misery at home. He hadn’t known how to make things better, for either of them, so he’d put his job first. Her second husband was clearly out of the same mould, so Max knew he was hardly in a position to criticise the guy. It didn’t stop him feeling angry about the situation, though, or thinking that Marina deserved better.

Wednesday; thank God it was Wednesday, Marina thought. As part of her training as a specialist registrar in emergency paediatrics, her boss had arranged for her to spend one day a week in the Children’s Assessment Unit. She was covering in part for Katrina Morgan, who was on maternity leave. Rhys Morgan—the consultant, who was also Katrina’s husband—had taught her a huge amount.

Marina loved every second of the time she spent on the CAU and always looked forward to it, but the fact that she didn’t have to face Max today made it even better.

‘Are you OK, Marina?’ Rhys asked. ‘You look a bit pale.’

‘I’m fine,’ Marina fibbed with a smile. ‘Just tired.’ She hadn’t slept particularly well the previous night, brooding about Max and how hostile he’d been towards her. Yes, she’d been the one to walk out—but they were both equally responsible for the collapse of their marriage. And hadn’t they agreed that they were going to put their patients first? If he carried on like that, there was no way they’d be able to work together—and it wouldn’t be fair on their patients or the rest of the team.

‘Not studying too hard, I hope?’ Rhys said.

‘No, just worrying about my sister.’ It was true: just not the whole truth. Not that she was going to burden Rhys with the mess of her personal life. ‘And, yes, I know she’s in good hands and Theo Petrakis is the best maternity specialist for miles.’ Theo’s wife Madison and Rhys’s wife Katrina were cousins, but were as close as sisters—though Marina knew that Rhys would have put the family connection aside when he’d assessed his colleague’s medical skills, just as she would have.

‘But Rosie’s still your sister—and where your own family’s concerned all your medical knowledge goes out of the window. You end up being like a medical student again, poring through textbooks and convincing yourself that you can see the symptoms of really rare complications,’ Rhys said, smiling back. ‘Katrina says I’m going to be a nightmare when she goes into labour, just as Theo was with Maddie.’

‘Doctors, eh?’ Marina said wryly. ‘How is Katrina, by the way?’

‘Blooming,’ Rhys said. ‘It’s our first anniversary next week. I had planned to take her to Venice for the weekend, but with her being seven-and-a-half months’ pregnant I don’t want her to fly. So instead we’re going to Southwold, on the coast of Suffolk.’ He grinned. ‘And, yes, I know that this cold snap means that the east coast is going to feel like Siberia. We’ll just have to tough it out and snuggle up in front of a proper log-fire in the little thatched cottage I booked.’

‘That sounds lovely. Really romantic,’ Marina said, trying to keep the wistful note out of her voice. Rhys was deeply in love with his wife and had planned something special to celebrate their first anniversary, whereas she and Max hadn’t even made it to their first anniversary.

They hadn’t even made it to six months before their marriage had imploded.

And now he was back in her life, and all her feelings were turned upside down again. Anger, hurt, longing, love and hate, all shaken together so thoroughly that she couldn’t work out which was which.

She pushed the thought aside. ‘Righty. What do you have for me this morning?’

‘Severe asthma—cold-induced. Several cases, actually.’

‘And if it isn’t brought back under control properly they could end up with silent chest—in which case they’ll be downstairs with my lot,’ Marina said. With asthma, the child’s airways were inflamed, and responded rapidly and strongly to stimuli, so the child wheezed and coughed; the airways narrowed so much that the child couldn’t breathe out properly. The child might then panic and the situation could spiral. If it got really out of control, the wheezing could stop, which was far more dangerous. ‘Silent chest’, as it was known, meant that the asthmatic patient wasn’t moving enough air through their lungs to even create a wheeze—and that was life-threatening.

‘And then, once you’ve stabilised them, back up with me for admission and overnight observation…’ Rhys began.

‘Because if there’s a history of severe attacks there’s a very good chance that a child who’s had an attack during the day will have another one at night,’ Marina finished.

‘Exactly,’ Rhys said. ‘So part of today is going to be about prevention—talking to the parents about using their inhalers properly, how to use them and when. And it’s worth making the point that the steroids we give aren’t the same as body-building steroids—these are the ones that are produced naturally in the body.’

Marina nodded. ‘And we’ll make a note for the GP and health visitor.’

Rhys smiled. ‘Working with you is almost like working with Katrina—she’s spot on about kids, too. You know, I’m looking for someone to cover her maternity leave properly. Working up here for a while would be really good for your career development.’

Marina shook her head. ‘Ellen agreed to let me work here for a day a week. I’m not sure she’d go for a year’s secondment.’

‘I can talk to her, if you like? Think about it,’ Rhys said. ‘The offer’s open for a couple of weeks.’

‘Thanks.’ It was good to know that she had a potential bolthole. Working with Max and dealing with all the memories would’ve been tough at the best of times but, coming on top of her worries about Rosie and the baby, it just ratcheted up the tension.

At least here in the CAU she could relax.

And she could try not to think of Max.

Chapter Three

ON THURSDAY morning, Max was walking into the department when he heard Kelly on Reception say, ‘Hey, Marina! How’s Phoebe doing?’

‘She’s on the mend. It’s just a tummy bug.’ Marina smiled. ‘That’s the worst thing about being a medic—you know the worst-case scenarios, and instead of seeing a simple tummy bug you imagine it’s the winter vomiting virus and all the complications that go with it.’

Max knew exactly what she meant, though sometimes medics went the other way, going into complete denial when faced with the evidence—just as they had done four years ago. They’d managed to convince themselves that Marina wasn’t having a miscarriage, that the baby they hadn’t planned but had both wanted so much would be just fine…And when they’d finally had to face the truth it had hurt even more.