Scandal In Sydney: Sydney Harbour Hospital: Lily's Scandal

The Aston Martin, loaded now with two subdued dogs, took a lot more time getting back to the road than it had taken getting to his uncle.

He’d hit a couple of small trees, bush-bashing in his desperation to get back to Tom and Lily. His front fender was bent. He stopped at Tom’s house and had to do a bit of rebending in order to protect the wheel. He didn’t want any hold-ups on the way back to hospital.

He was thumping the fender one last time when his neighbour Patty arrived, looking scared.

‘I saw the chopper,’ she said. ‘From the Harbour. What’s happened?’

He told her, and she offered to pack Tom’s bag while he got the car sorted.

‘I’ll take care of the dogs and the rest of the place as well,’ she said. ‘Tell him Bill and I will drop in and see him as soon as he’s well enough for visitors.’

‘He won’t want—’

‘He always says he doesn’t want,’ she said. ‘But what men say and what men mean are different things. Like telling me he doesn’t need me bringing him casseroles and pies. Like telling me he doesn’t want you living here. He’s a lying hound but he’s our lying hound so we’d be grateful to have him home safe and sound.’

He left her, but her words stayed with him.

What men say and what men mean are different things …

If he and Lily hadn’t been there today …

Tom couldn’t stay on the farm any more. Not alone. They’d have to find him a live-in housekeeper.

He’d hate it.

Could he finally decide to commute?

Tom would hate that, too. He’d put up with him as a kid, because he’d felt sorry for him. He tolerated Luke owning the place next door and he appreciated his help, but essentially he was a loner.

Tom didn’t want Luke close, like Luke didn’t want anyone close.

Anyone like Lily.

His thoughts should have only been on Tom. Instead they kept drifting to a shadowed girl with bloodstained clothing and a courage that defied belief.

Riding Glenfiddich yesterday.

Holding Tom today.

Facing down the gossip of the Harbour.

Coping with a mother who sounded like a nightmare.

Wasn’t he supposed to be worrying about Tom?

He was feeling sick about Tom. No matter that he was in good hands, there was still a chance …

Don’t go there.

He was going as fast as the speed limit and a slightly buckled Aston Martin allowed. The chopper would be back at the Harbour by now. Jack and his team would be doing their utmost to save Tom.

Would they have released Lily?

She’d go into Theatre with them, he thought. They’d leave her hand in position while Tom was anaesthetised, while they put every tool in place so they could work with speed to cut down, clamp, tie off, without compromising what little was left of the leg’s blood supply.

Then Lily could step away.

He needed to be there when she stepped away.

How fast could he make this car go? Not fast enough.

He hit the phone. Evie.

‘He’s here and he’s still with us,’ Evie said before he could say a word. ‘Jack’s taken him straight through into Theatre. He had everyone lined up before he got here. Finn’s supervising. Judy’s on her way. You have the best surgical team the Harbour can provide.’

‘Lily …’

‘Lily still has her hand in place. We’re not shifting her until we’re sure we can get in fast enough.’

‘Can you be there when she’s no longer needed?’

‘I’ll have one of the nurses—’

‘I want you, Evie,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t ask favours, but I’m asking for one now. She’s had gastro. I’m worried about her as well. It’ll be twenty minutes before I get there. Be there for Lily for me.’

‘If it means that much …’

‘It means that much, ’

‘Well, well,’ Evie said gently. ‘And I thought it was mostly gossip. You really do care. Don’t worry, Luke, of course I’ll be there.’

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_c0dd3333-a0dd-56bf-8b83-d57aaebd62b0)

LILY woke and someone was holding her hand.

That someone was Luke.

She blinked but she wasn’t dreaming. Luke Williams was leaning over, smiling, and he was definitely holding her hand. Her fingers were on the coverlet. His were entwined with hers.

Sunlight was streaming in the window, or rather the rays of a tangerine sunset. She was warm and cosseted and …

Luke Williams was holding her hand.

‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ he said softly, and his hold on her hand tightened. ‘I thought you might be intending to sleep until morning. Mind, you have the right.’

His voice was low and husky, tense with emotion. His face was drawn.

It definitely wasn’t a dream. The day’s events flooded back and with it, dread.