Hot Single Docs: London's Calling: 200 Harley Street: The Proud Italian / 200 Harley Street: American Surgeon in London / 200 Harley Street: The Soldier Prince. Lynne Marshall

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      Setting off to the Lighthouse’s outpatient department, she realised how nervous she was feeling. Maybe it was because she was out of her jeans for the first time in ages and wearing clothes more appropriate for her job. A neat blouse tucked into a long, swirly skirt that reached the top of her boots. An unbuttoned white coat as a jacket. The bright name badge that had a cute flower with a smiley face for a centre that told the world she was ‘Doctor Abbie.’

      Or maybe it was because people would be bringing their precious children to her to have decisions made about potentially major surgery. She would have to weigh up the risks versus benefits for other people’s children when she was so acutely aware of how it felt to be a parent herself. What the repercussions of those risks might be.

      Oh, for heaven’s sake, Abbie scolded herself. ‘It’s only an outpatient clinic. Hardly life or death.’

      There was an expectation, however, that she would start again with the really high-pressure work as soon as possible and get up to reasonable speed so that she wouldn’t lose the skills that had won her such a prestigious position in the first place. The expectation wasn’t just coming from the Hunter brothers or the head of the paediatric surgical department at the Lighthouse Children’s Hospital.

      It was coming from Abbie herself and that was why she’d told Ethan that she would start again so soon.

      The passion that had led her into this career represented a part of herself that she had no intention of losing. First and foremost, it was who she was. Being a wife and a mother might be just as important but that part of her couldn’t survive in isolation. Not happily, anyway, and if she wasn’t happy she couldn’t do her best. Be her best.

      This nervousness that made her stomach churn was very unfamiliar, though. Disconcerting. It was only an outpatient clinic she was heading for, she reminded herself again. One of her favourite parts of her job, where she could spend time with young patients and their families, either exploring the possible routes they could take to make a positive difference in their lives or checking up on progress and getting the satisfaction of seeing that difference.

      Why was she so nervous?

      Because she felt rusty from being away from the action for too long? Those kinds of nerves might be expected when she was back in Theatre with a scalpel in her hand but they would be welcome then because she’d know they would keep her focussed and would evaporate as her confidence returned.

      This was different. This was the first time she would be working with Rafael since she’d accepted the ultimatum that meant their marriage was over. Would working together make things better or worse? Could it break through the polite distance they’d ended up in last night before Rafael had excused himself to do a post-operative check on his most recent patient?

      Apparently not.

      Rafael had arrived before Abbie and, against the background of a crowded waiting room, he was sorting files with the clinic’s nurse manager, Nicky. Like Abbie, he was wearing an unbuttoned white coat over his professional uniform of tidy trousers and a neat shirt and tie. He had a name badge on his pocket, too. Nothing as frivolous as a smiling flower, though. His was a far more dignified standard issue with the tiny lighthouse logo and his full name.

      Abbie hadn’t even offered to get him a fun badge when she’d had her own made. She’d always known the limits to which his pride would let him bend.

      Or she’d thought she’d known. Until it had come to the crunch.

      Both Rafael and the nurse manager looked up as Abbie approached.

      ‘Abbie.’ Nicky’s smile was welcoming. ‘It’s so good to see you. I was delighted to hear that you’d be sharing the clinic this morning. I’ll bet your registrar was delighted as well.’

      Rafael’s smile wasn’t nearly as welcoming as Nicky’s but at least it was a smile. One that was at odds with the wary look in his eyes. Surely Rafael wasn’t nervous about working with her again? No...

      She’d never known him to be nervous about anything. Excited, certainly, like he’d been when they’d seen the stripes on the pregnancy test stick that had meant they were on the way to becoming parents. Fearful, maybe, like he’d been when they’d been waiting for those first test results to come back and explain why their newborn baby was failing to thrive in such a dramatic fashion. And angry, definitely, like he’d been when she’d refused to accept his decision that enough was enough when it came to putting Ella through any more misery.

      But nervous? This was disconcerting. Abbie had to force herself to return Nicky’s smile of welcome.

      ‘I did hear that you’ve been incredibly busy. It’s lovely to see you, too, Nicky.’

      ‘And I hear that Ella’s doing well. That’s such good news.’

      ‘It certainly is.’ Abbie slid a sideways glance at Rafael but he seemed absorbed in the list of patients. He eased a set of patient notes out of a pile and put it to one side.

      ‘How long before you can take her home?’

      Rafael’s head jerked up at this query and Abbie could feel the intensity of his glance and it felt...accusing? This wasn’t something they’d had a chance to talk about last night. How could they, when Abbie wasn’t even sure whether she had a home to take Ella back to?

      ‘Um...it’ll be a few weeks, I think. We need to see how things go. Certainly no decision will be made until she’s had her T cells checked at the three-month mark.’

      Which gave them some breathing space at least. Time to sort out where they were as far as their marriage went. Or how they might share Ella’s parenting in the future.

      The noise level in the waiting room was increasing. A scuffle had broken out near the toy box and more than one child was crying. A woman carrying a well-wrapped baby was standing near the door and looking as if she would prefer to turn around and go out again. Her partner was trying to persuade her to take a seat. Nicky surveyed the scene and squared her shoulders.

      ‘We’d better get this show on the road. I’ll get the first patients into the consulting rooms. I’ve put you in Room 3, Abbie.’

      ‘Cheers.’

      As Nicky moved away, it felt as if Abbie and Rafael were almost alone, sandwiched between the waiting-room chaos and the rest of the staff, who were busy organising the rooms for the consultations and tests that were scheduled.

      ‘Hi...’ Abbie offered a smile. ‘You okay?’

      ‘I’m fine.’ Rafael smiled back. Another polite smile. ‘And you? That chair in Ella’s room can’t be that comfortable to sleep in.’

      ‘I’m used to it. I’ve been sleeping in one of those chairs for so long now that a bed will probably feel weird.’

      And there it was again. A slap in the face. A reminder of where she’d been for the last three months. An echo of the awkward moment last night when Rafael had asked if she would come home to sleep and she’d said that changing something that big in Ella’s routine was out of the question just yet.

      ‘How is she this morning?’

      ‘Good. She ate a little stewed apple and porridge for breakfast. It’s great that she СКАЧАТЬ