In The Venetian's Bed

‘Why should I trust you? I don’t know you. You could be anyone!’

‘Look, just stay calm, or move away. You’re disturbing my patient.’

Nell held her ground. ‘Your patient is my daughter! If you’re not capable of helping Molly then I’m going to find someone who is.’

‘Where?’

He fired the word back at her. She flinched and fell silent.

‘If you just stay calm everything will be all right,’ he told her.

The man’s assurance infuriated her. He had intoned the platitude in the way Nell was beginning to think must be dished out along with the accreditation MD. ‘And maybe I could stay calm if I thought you had any idea what was wrong with my daughter.’

‘I can’t be sure of anything yet.’

‘Or you don’t know.’ She had been too trusting once before, and that had ended in tragedy. She wasn’t going to make that same mistake again. Not with Molly.

When her husband, Jake, had been killed in a car accident, Nell hadn’t known that Molly’s father might have survived had the junior doctor mistakenly sent to tend him at the roadside been properly trained. Later, in Casualty, she had believed the medics had been trying to save Jake’s life, not covering for their colleague’s mistake. When they had finally admitted Jake was dead it had come as a complete shock to her. There had been no warning, no preparation at all.

It had been a life-changing event that had led to Nell starting a campaign to help others in a similar plight. That campaign was now a charitable trust with volunteers countrywide in the United Kingdom. People who could liaise with the medical staff within a hospital and give whatever support was required to a patient’s relative or friend.

This Luca Barbaro seemed too glamorous, too young, to be an experienced doctor. Very like the young medic who had tended Jake. Nell’s heart lurched.

‘Can you call the hospital? Tell them I want someone there as soon as we arrive—a paediatric consultant, someone experienced. The best!’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ His voice was bordering on sarcastic.

‘Not good enough,’ she said sharply.

His answer was to lock his fingers under Molly, as if she was about to do something stupid like snatch Molly from him. Or was it just to drive home the message that he was in charge?

He leaned over the canal at a perilous angle to peer down it—with Molly in his arms. Nell’s hands balled into fists. Molly’s tiny frame suspended over murky water! Her head was banging with tension by the time he straightened up to stare at her in silence. Did he expect her to start a conversation—about the weather, maybe?

‘You should tell me your name.’

Her eyes had to be registering astonishment, Nell knew. This wasn’t some social gathering where it was mandatory to engage in small talk. She didn’t want to chat with him. She didn’t want to get to know him. She didn’t want to tell him her name. ‘Perhaps you should tell me what you know about Molly’s condition.’

Nell’s brave front dissolved as Luca Barbaro held her gaze. There was something in his eyes that made her heart lurch with dread. How bad was it? Why didn’t he say something to reassure her? Was it because there was nothing to say?

‘You’ll have to tell me your name sooner or later.’

A doctor possessed any number of strategies for winkling out facts from distressed relatives, as she knew only too well, but giving her name as Molly’s next of kin was mandatory. ‘My name is Nell Foster,’ she offered stiffly.

‘And the child’s name?’

‘My daughter’s name is Molly.’ Nell had drawn herself up, thinking she was ready for him. But the moment she spoke Molly’s name her self-assurance disappeared. Molly was the one fixed point in her life, a point around which everything else in her world revolved. Everything she did, thought, or planned was for Molly. As tears welled behind her eyes, she only managed to hold herself together by staring fixedly at her baby.

‘Molly Foster,’ he murmured. ‘Very nice.’

The tender note in his voice took Nell by surprise. Her mouth tightened. She didn’t want his smiles or reassurance. She wanted the answer to one simple question: why had Molly been taken ill?

‘So, Molly…’

She refocused, hearing his crooning tone. No one spoke to Molly like that except for her.

‘Is this your first visit to Venice, Molly?’ he continued, oblivious to the distress he was causing.

‘Yes, it is,’ Nell answered for her daughter stiffly. The rational side of her brain told her that he was watching for signs as he spoke to Molly, clues that might help him to arrive at a diagnosis. The emotional side of her brain didn’t trust him to get it right. She didn’t trust any doctor.

And then he glanced up as if sensing her appraisal. She must have swayed, because the next thing she knew his free hand was under her arm and he was steadying her, and the sensation was shooting up her arm like…

She pulled free with surprise. It was hard to believe his touch had affected her so acutely. How could she respond to a man at a time like this? It disgusted her. It was as if her body was tuned to a different frequency from her mind and she had no control over it. As he moved she was forced to move with him to stay close to Molly, but she took care to keep her distance from the man holding her.

‘That’s better,’ he said infuriatingly, as if Nell had moved into the very spot he would have chosen for her. ‘You should stand well back from the canal. You’ve had a shock and we don’t want any accidents.’

We? She guessed that was the type of nursery-speak he used in the hospital. It was exactly the type of thing she had made it her crusade to abolish.

‘Molly needs you to be strong. She’s very poorly. You do understand that?’

Nell’s stomach clenched with fear. ‘Of course I understand.’ But she didn’t understand any of it. How could Molly be so sick? She wanted him to say it was a mistake. She wanted Molly to wake up.

‘Take some deep breaths, Nell. It will help.’

Nell’s face was hostile as she stared up. She wasn’t the one in need of help here! And she felt Barbaro’s use of her first name as another outrage. While she had been waiting in the hospital for Jake she had noticed that all the patients were addressed by their first names. She had also noticed that no one called out, ‘Hey, John,’ to Jake’s consultant, but had addressed him respectfully as Mr Delaware. She had resented it then, she resented it now. But she had to let it go. Resentment didn’t help Molly. She recommended breathing exercises to her volunteers to use in moments of stress, and tried them now. Gradually the muscles in her chest began to release—but he was leaning over the canal again.

‘Must you do that?’

Rocking back on his heels, Luca Barbaro stared down at her. ‘I’m looking for the ambulance.’

Did that give him the excuse to expose Molly to risk? ‘Well, don’t do it while you’ve got my daughter in your arms. Or give her back to me.’

‘No.’

She couldn’t risk a tussle that might land them all in the water. She had to content herself with stroking Molly’s brow, which had grown warm and clammy. Her chest was working like a miniature bellows, while her cheeks were unnaturally pink. ‘Does she have a fever?’

‘I’ll know more when we reach the hospital and I can run some tests.’

‘So, in fact, you know damn all?’ Hot and cold waves of terror were washing over her. She knew she shouldn’t shout, or lose her cool, but some atavistic instinct was shouting at her to take Molly and run…find help. But where would she run to? She was lost in the maze of backwaters that made up the hidden face of Venice. This calle was a long way from the regular tourist trail with its friendly vendors and signposts to the main attractions. Her knowledge of Italian was minimal, and she would lose valuable time trying to find her way back to the Grand Canal…time Molly might not have.

Nell’s heart pounded as her mind filled with a deep and unreasonable hatred of Venice. Everything that had seemed so beautiful, so charming when they had first arrived had turned an ugly face on them. She glanced around, wondering if the dilapidation harboured the blight that had infected Molly—or the water, perhaps? The unusual silence of the traffic-free centre, which so recently she had enjoyed, now represented isolation; the lack of signposts seemed now to be a ploy to confuse the unwary tourist. And worst of all, Venice had welded her to this stranger, a man who said he was a doctor. And even if he was a doctor, for all she knew Luca Barbaro was a podiatric surgeon, happier sawing off bunions than treating children! But she was stuck with him. She couldn’t risk setting out on her own with Molly and getting lost.

It was her fault. She shouldn’t have brought Molly so far from home for a holiday. But then Jake’s accident had happened at the end of their road—on familiar territory…The policewoman sent to break the news and comfort her afterwards had said that was where so many accidents happened, when people let their concentration slip after a long journey. And of course, it hadn’t helped that Jake had had a secret life to distract him. It was hardly surprising he’d gone off the road.

The accident had happened on a Friday night, when Casualty was like a war zone. She had been locked inside her thoughts, fearing the worst, hoping for the best, when the scream came. It had been a woman’s scream, a scream that connected with Nell on so deep a level she had known her whole life was somehow wrapped up in it. When they finally allowed her into Jake’s room, no one had warned her that he wasn’t alone. The last thing she had been expecting to find was a young woman with a tiny baby in her arms, weeping by her dead husband’s bed.

CHAPTER TWO

‘WHAT are you doing?’ Nell refocused as Barbaro fished out his phone again.