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‘Edward, it’s Ethan. I’ve a case here that I think you might be interested in.’
Something tingled at the back of his neck. The excitement of a challenge. He could do with that at the moment—before the tilt in the balance of his life became a catastrophic slide.
‘I’ll be right there.’
Edward was, indeed, interested. The surgery was slated for a couple of months hence, and it would be complicated, demanding, and require painstaking preparation. It was just the thing.
Their review of the notes was interrupted by the phone. Ethan’s brow darkened. His habitual cool courtesy when dealing with the clinic staff was clearly being tested.
‘Can you take a message please? I’ve asked for all of my calls to be put on hold for the next half-hour....’ Someone spoke urgently at the other end of the line. ‘Ah, Helen, it’s you...’ He listened again, and then nodded briskly. ‘Okay. Yes, thanks, Helen. You were right to let me know. Put her through, please.’
Edward made to leave, but Ethan waved him back into his seat. ‘I have to take this, but I won’t be long.’ He turned back to the phone. ‘Olivia...?’
A pulse was beating at the side of Ethan’s brow, but his face was fixed, impassive. The look of a soldier about to go into battle. He listened, concentrating on the phone and the notes that he was scribbling. ‘Repeat that, please... Okay, got it. All right, consider it done. We’ll courier all the paperwork out to you.’
He placed the phone back gently into its cradle. Ethan seemed deep in thought and Edward didn’t ask.
‘Can you do something for me?’ Finally Ethan spoke.
‘Of course.’
‘That was Olivia Fairchild. Leo’s away, and there are some problems with a visa for one of the kids she’s sending to the clinic. I’m not sure quite what’s involved, but I think there’s just a declaration of some sort to be made from our end. Olivia will be travelling with the girl and her mother, so we can send any necessary paperwork straight through to her.’
Edward nodded. ‘Leave it with me.’ Was that relief he saw on Ethan’s face? It probably wasn’t anything to do with the legal complexities involved, because there weren’t any. ‘Give me your notes.’
‘Thanks.’ Ethan made a few more jottings on the pad in front of him and handed the paper over to Edward. ‘Appreciate it.’
* * *
It was like leading a double life. A triple life, actually. There was the persona that she adopted at work—the one that hardly noticed Edward was even there unless he was giving instructions o
f a medical nature. The one that she had fallen into at home, being a part of the unlikely family that she, Edward and Isaac seemed to have made for themselves. And there was the one which lasted from the time that Isaac went to bed through to the early hours of the morning.
Evenings spent by the piano, talking together or just keeping each other company. Or reading together, their limbs entwined, Charlotte with her book and Edward with his. Early nights, when they had the opportunity to do all the things that they dared not talk about during the day, and which were increasingly bleeding into her thoughts at the most inappropriate times.
‘Where’s Edward?’
She and Isaac were having tea in the kitchen together. Edward had made it back home only just in time to say goodnight to Isaac for the last three evenings, and Isaac had missed playing with him after tea.
‘He’s at the hospital, sweetie. He’s got to stay and make sure that the people he’s looking after are okay.’
Isaac frowned. ‘What people?’
Good question. But her own uncertainties weren’t the issue here. It had been less than two weeks since she and Edward had first spent the night together, and it had taken only a week before the slow, subtle sense that he was withdrawing from her became apparent. When he was there he was still as committed, still as quietly loving. He just wasn’t there as much as he used to be.
‘People who are sick, sweetie.’ She leaned across the table towards Isaac. ‘There’s a little boy, about your age, who’s had an accident and lost his thumb. Edward’s going to give him a new one.’
Isaac regarded his own thumb thoughtfully. ‘A bionic thumb...?’
‘No, a real one.’ Charlotte decided to skip the bit about how the child had lost two other fingers as well, and that the reconstruction of one side of his hand was ground-breaking in its complexity.
‘Is that what Edward’s doing now?’
Difficult to say. She’d heard about this particular case from one of the other doctors, not Edward. ‘The operation’s tomorrow. I expect he’s preparing for it.’
‘And Edward will make the boy better?’
‘Yes, he will, sweetie.’ Charlotte could give that assurance, at least, with a clear conscience.
