The Registrar's Convenient Wife. Kate Hardy

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      He stared at the floor. ‘I can’t find my dad.’

      Claire definitely hadn’t seen the boy before. But there was an outside chance he’d visited a younger sibling on the ward when she’d been off duty. ‘I’ll help you find him. My name’s Claire and I’m a doctor here. What’s your name?’

      ‘Ryan.’

      ‘Can you tell me your baby brother or sister’s name, Ryan?’

      He shook his head, still staring at the floor.

      Maybe he’d wandered in here from another ward. Or maybe...Something about him reminded her of her godson, Jed. ‘Is your baby brother or sister here, sweetheart?’ she asked gently.

      Again, Ryan shook his head.

      ‘Is your mum or dad a patient here?’

      ‘Dad’s a doctor.’

      He looked up and in that brief second Claire realised who the boy was. Ryan’s eyes were a deep cornflower blue and his hair was mid-brown, but his mouth was identical to a mouth she hadn’t been able to get out of her head. Eliot’s. ‘Is your dad’s name Eliot?’ she asked carefully.

      ‘Yes.’

      Her heart clenched. Eliot had a child. Eliot was married. So either he really had meant it about the kid-brother thing, and she’d nearly made a colossal fool of herself, or...Oh, no. He couldn’t be another Paddy. He couldn’t have been a married man trying to schmooze her just when she’d been saying how affairs wrecked lives. No. He was too nice for that—wasn’t he? And Tilly, who had a radar for that sort of thing, had pronounced him unattached...

      But maybe they’d both been wrong.

      She took a deep breath. ‘OK, Ryan. Your dad’s seeing a patient at the moment. Would you like to come and sit in my office and wait for him?’

      ‘I want Dad.’

      ‘I know, sweetheart, but right now he’s with a tiny baby who’s very ill. I’ll get him for you, but you can’t come with me in case you have any germs.’

      ‘Because it’s a sterile environment and bacteria multiply rapidly.’

      That one had come straight from left field—certainly not what she’d expected from a child this young. But, then again, maybe he’d heard Eliot talk about his job at home. ‘I’m impressed,’ she said. ‘Are you going to be a doctor like your dad when you grow up?’

      ‘No.’

      Well, that was her fault for asking a closed question. She thought of Jed again. ‘How old are you, Ryan?’

      ‘Seven.’

      ‘Do you like dinosaurs?’

      Another flash of those beautiful eyes. ‘Yes.’

      ‘I’ve got some in my office. Do you want to see them while I get your dad?’

      ‘Yes, please.’

      ‘Would you like a drink?’

      ‘Yes, please.’

      ‘What would you like?’

      ‘Milk, please.’

      ‘OK. Come this way.’

      ‘It’s the third door on the right,’ he said, surprising her. ‘I saw it on the map.’

      ‘How did you get here, Ryan?’

      ‘On the bus. Number 17 bus, four stops. Change to a number 20 bus to the hospital. There’s always a map of a hospital in Reception. This is the fourth floor, and all the wards on this floor start with D because D’s the fourth letter of the alphabet.’

      Ryan was definitely like Jed: hated small talk, but could hold forth for hours on subjects that interested him. Facts and figures, maps and dinosaurs, sea creatures. She’d bet good money that Ryan loved trains, robots and astronomy, too. ‘Well done, you. We’re going to stop by the nurses’ kitchen on the way to get you some milk.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      Polite, quiet and that steadfast refusal to make eye contact for more than a second. He gave information rather than having a proper conversation, and she had a feeling that Ryan would be a stickler for routine. Typical of a child with Asperger’s syndrome.

      Which explained why Eliot worked the shifts he did, and why he hadn’t wanted to be late. But why hadn’t he told her himself? Was she that much of a dragon?

      ‘You should pour it with your right hand,’ Ryan remarked when she took the milk carton from the fridge.

      ‘Sorry, Ryan. I’m left-handed. If I pour it with my right, I’ll spill it everywhere.’

      There was a nasty pause while the little boy digested the information. Then he shrugged. ‘OK.’

      ‘Tell me when to stop.’ If her suspicions were right, Ryan would be as particular as Jed about how much milk he had in a cup.

      ‘Stop,’ he said solemnly when the liquid was one centimetre below the brim.

      ‘Rightio. We’ll go to my office and get the dinosaurs, and then I’ll fetch your dad.’

      ‘You’ve got a shark screensaver,’ he said immediately when they walked into her office.

      ‘It was my birthday present from my godson,’ she said.

      ‘It’s cool.’

      ‘I like it, too.’ She rummaged in her desk and found the collection of dinosaurs, plus the set of cards she’d bought for Jed that contained facts and figures about various dinosaurs. ‘This game’s better for two or more people but you can play it on your own, against yourself, if you like. Now, are you OK to stay here while I get your dad?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘If you need anything before we get back, just go to the nurses’ station and ask for Tilly.’

      ‘Tilly,’ he repeated dutifully.

      ‘I won’t be long.’ She smiled, left and went to find Eliot in one of the side rooms. ‘Can I have a quick word, Dr Slater?’

      Eliot looked up from his patient, surprised by her formality. ‘Of course.’ He followed her outside the room.

      ‘You have a visitor in my office,’ she said coolly. ‘Name of Ryan Slater.’

      Panic gripped him, oozing out of every pore. What was his son doing here? Was he hurt? And why hadn’t Claire mentioned Fran? Eliot forced himself to calm down. ‘Is he all right?’

      ‘He’s fine. Right now he’s looking at my dinosaur cards. I’ve given him some milk. He wants you, so I’ll finish off here.’

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