Hot Single Docs: The Playboy's Redemption

CHAPTER FOUR

DIEGO was not in the best of moods.

Not that anyone would really know.

Though laid back in character, he was always firm in the running of his unit. His babies came first and though friendly and open in communication, he kept a slight distance from his staff that was almost indefinable.

Oh, he chatted. They knew he loved to swim in the Cornish sea, that he came from an affluent long line of doctors in Madrid, they even knew that he was somewhat estranged from his family due to his career choice, for Diego would roll his eyes if any of them rang him at work. His staff knew too about his rather pacy love life—the dark-eyed, good-looking Spaniard was never short of a date but, much to many a St Piran’s female staff member’s disgust, he never dated anyone from work.

No, the stunning women who occasionally dropped in, waiting for him to finish his shift, or called him on the phone, had nothing to do with hospitals—not public ones anyway. Their hospital stays tended to be in private clinics for little procedures to enhance their already polished looks.

There was just this certain aloofness to Diego—an independent thinker, he never engaged in gossip or mixed his private life with his work.

So no one knew that, despite his zealous attention to detail with his precious charges that day, there was a part of Diego that was unusually distracted.

Cross with himself even.

Okay, his relations with women veered more towards sexual than emotional, and if his moral code appeared loose to some, it actually came with strict guidelines—it was always exclusive. And, a man of honour, he knew it was wrong to suddenly be taking his lunches in the canteen instead of on the ward and looking out for that fragile beauty who was clearly taken.

Wrong, so very wrong to have been thinking of her late, very late, into the night.

But why was she so stressed and unhappy?

If she were his partner, he’d make damn sure...

Diego blew out a breath, blocked that line of thought and carried on typing up the complicated handover sheet, filling

in the updates on his charges, now that Rita the ward clerk had updated the admissions and discharges and changes of cots. It was Monday and there was always a lot to be updated. It was a job he loathed, but he did it quicker and more accurately than anyone else and it was a good way of keeping current with all the patients, even if he couldn’t be hands on with them all. So Diego spent a long time on the sheet—speaking with each staff member in turn, checking up on each baby in his care. The NICU handover sheet was a lesson in excellence.

‘I’m still trying to chase up some details for Baby Geller,’ Rita informed him as Diego typed in the three-days-old latest treatment regime. ‘Maternity hasn’t sent over forms.’

‘He came via Emergency.’ Diego didn’t look up. ‘After you left on Friday.’

‘That’s right—the emergency obstetric page that went out.’ Rita went through his paperwork. ‘Do you know the delivering doctor? I need to go to Maternity and get some forms then I can send it all down and he can fill it in.’

‘She.’ Diego tried to keep his deep voice nonchalant. ‘Izzy Bailey, and I think I’ve got some of the forms in my office. I can take them down.’

‘Is she back?’ Rita sounded shocked. ‘After all that’s happened you’d think she’d have stayed off till after the baby. Mind you, the insurance aren’t paying up, I’ve heard. They’re dragging their feet, saying it might be suicide—as if! No doubt the poor thing has to work.’

Diego hated gossip and Rita was an expert in it. Nearing retirement, she had been there for ever and made everyone’s business her own. Rita’s latest favourite topic was Megan the paediatrician, who she watched like a hawk, or Brianna Flannigan, the most private of nurses, but today Rita clearly had another interest. Normally Diego would have carried on working or told her to be quiet, but curiosity had the better of him and, not proud of himself, Diego prolonged the unsavoury conversation.

‘Suicide?’ Diego turned around. ‘Are you talking about Izzy’s husband?’

‘Henry Bailey!’ Rita nodded. ‘It wasn’t suicide, of course; he just drove off in a blind rage. She’d left him, but he turned up at work, waited for her in the car park...’ She flushed a little, perhaps aware that she was being terribly indiscreet and that Diego was normally the one to halt her. ‘I’m not speaking out of turn; it was all over the newspapers and all over the CCTV, though of course it would have been before you arrived in St Piran’s.’

No, it wasn’t his proudest morning, because once the handover sheet was complete, Diego headed for his office and closed the door. Feeling as if he was prying but wanting to know all the same, it didn’t take long to find out everything Rita had told him and more. Oh, he would never abuse his position and look up personal information, but it was there for everyone, splashed all over the internet, and as he read it he felt his stomach churn in unease for all she had been through.

Pregnant, trying to leave an abusive marriage, real estate agent Henry Bailey had beaten his wife in the darkened hospital car park. Rita was right, the whole, shocking incident had been captured on CCTV and images of footage and the details were spelt out in the press.

He felt sick.

Reading it, he felt physically sick and also strangely proud.

Her first day back.

Mierda! He cursed himself as he remembered his throw-away comment about the car park. He replayed the conversation they had had over and over and wished he could start with her again.

His door knocked and he quickly clicked away from the page he was viewing, before calling whoever it was to come in, but he felt a rare blush on his cheeks as the woman herself stood before him. Diego actually felt as if he’d been caught snooping as Izzy let herself in, a wide smile on her face, and he wondered how on earth she managed it.

She had leggings on again and a bright red dress with bright red lipstick and, Diego

noticed, bright red cheeks as he just continued to stare up at her.

‘You need me to sign off on the delivery?’ It was Izzy who broke the silence; Diego was momentarily lost for words. ‘Your ward clerk just rang...’

‘We would have sent them down to you.’

‘Oh!’ Izzy blushed a shade darker as she lied just a little. ‘I thought it sounded urgent.’

‘I should have some forms...’ He was unusually flustered as he rummaged through his desk. ‘Or I’ll ring Maternity. Here...’ Diego found them and was pathetically grateful when the door knocked and one of his team stood there. with a screaming baby with a familiar request.

‘Would you mind?’

‘Not at all.’ He washed his hands, thoroughly, then took the screaming baby and plonked it face down on his forearm, its little head at his elbow, and he rocked it easily as he spoke.

‘Genevieve!’ he introduced. ‘Goes home this week, please God! I do not envy her parents.’

Well, Genevieve looked as if she’d happily stay with Diego for ever! The tears had stopped and she was already almost asleep as he bounced away.

‘If you want to get started on the forms I’ll just go and get the details you’ll need.’ He paused at the door. ‘I was just about to get a drink...’

‘Not for me, thanks,’ Izzy said, and then changed her mind. ‘Actually, water would be great.’

‘Would you mind...?’ It was his turn to say it and he gestured to the baby. Izzy went to put out her hands and then laughed.

‘Joking!’ she said, then went over to his sink and thoroughly washed hers. ‘Am I clean enough for you?’

Oh, God, there was an answer there!

And they just both stood there, looking a bit stunned.

Izzy flaming red, Diego biting down on his tongue rather than tell her he’d prefer her dirty.

And thank God for Miss Genevieve or he might just have kissed her face off!

Diego got them both water.

Well, he couldn’t do much with two polystyrene cups and tap water but he did go to the ice dispenser and then had a little chat with himself in his head as he walked back to his office.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He hardly knew her, she was pregnant, and she obviously had major issues.

Why was he acting like a twelve-year-old walking past the underwear department in a department store? Nervous, jumpy, embarrassed, hell, he couldn’t actually fancy her, and even if he did, normally that didn’t pose a problem—he fancied loads of women.

This, though, felt different.

Maybe he felt sorry for her? Diego wondered as he balanced a file under his arm and two cups in one big hand and opened his office door.

But, no, he’d been thinking about her long before Rita had told him what had happened.

Then she looked up from the form she was filling in and smiled, and Diego was tempted to turn round and walk out.

He more than fancied her.

Not liked, not felt sorry for, no. As he washed his hands and took Genevieve from her and sat down behind his desk it wasn’t sympathy that was causing this rather awkward reaction.

Diego was used to women.

Beautiful women.

Ordinary women.

Postnatal women.

Pregnant women were regular visitors to his unit—often he walked a mum-to-be around his unit, telling her what to expect once her baby was born.

He was more than used to women, yet not one, not one single one, had ever had this effect on him.

‘How is Toby doing?’ Izzy looked up from the forms and Diego made a wobbly gesture with one hand.

‘Can I have a peek?’ Izzy signed off her name and then reached for her water. ‘I’m done.’

‘Sure,’ Diego said. ‘I’ll put this one down and take you over—we’ve moved him.’

Genevieve was sleeping now, and Izzy walked with him to the nursery. It was a far more relaxed atmosphere there.

There were about eight babies, all in clear cribs and dressed in their own clothes, the parents more relaxed and, Izzy noticed, everyone had a smile when Diego walked in and put Genevieve back in her cot.

He was certainly popular, Izzy thought as they head back out to the busy main floor of NICU.

‘You need to—’

‘Wash my hands,’ Izzy interrupted, ‘I know.’

‘Actually...’ Diego gave a small wince. ‘Your perfume is very strong. Perhaps you could...’

‘I’m not wearing perfume,’ Izzy said as she soaped up her hands, ‘and you’re hardly one to talk, I can smell your cologne from here!’

‘I don’t wear cologne for work.’

‘Oh.’ Izzy glanced over. ‘Then what...?’ She didn’t finish, she just turned back to the taps and concentrated really hard on rinsing off the soap.

She could smell him.

If she breathed in now she could taste him—she’d even commented to Megan on his cologne, but Megan had said... Izzy swallowed as she recalled the flip conversation. Megan hadn’t even noticed it...

She could smell him and Diego could smell her and they’d just told each other so.

There was no witty comeback from that.

It was the most awkward five minutes of her life.

Okay, not the most awkward—the last few months had brought many of them. Rather it was the most pleasantly cringe-making, confusingly awkward five minutes of her life.

She peered at Baby Geller and asked after his mother, Nicola. She tried to remember that breathing was a normal bodily function as the nurse who was looking after the babe asked Diego to hold him for a moment while she changed the bedding. The sight of the tiny baby nestled in his strong arms, resting against his broad chest, was just such a contrast between tenderness and masculinity that it had Izzy almost dizzy with the blizzard of emotions it evoked.

‘I’d better get back.’ Her mouth felt as if was made of rubber—even a simple sentence was difficult.

She managed a smile and then she turned and walked briskly out of the department. Only once she was safely out did she lean against the wall and close her eyes, breathing as if she’d run up the emergency exit steps. Shocked almost because never in her wildest dreams had she considered this, even ventured the possibility that she might be attracted to someone.

She was so raw, so scared, so just dealing with functioning, let alone coping, that men weren’t even on a distant horizon yet.

And yet...

She’d never been so strongly attracted to someone.

Never.

Even in the early days with Henry, before he’d shown his true colours, she hadn’t felt like this. Oh, she had loved him, had been so deeply in love she’d been sure of it—only it had felt nothing like this attraction.

An attraction that was animal almost.

She could smell the delicious fragrance of him.

Right now, on her skin in her hair, she leant against the wall and dragged in the air, and still his fragrance lingered in her nostrils.

‘Izzy!’ Her eyes opened to the concerned voice of Jess. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine!’ She smiled. ‘I was just in NICU, and it’s so hot in there...’ God, she felt like she’d been caught smoking by the headmistress, as if Jess could see the little plumes of smoke coming from behind her back. She tried to carry on as if her world hadn’t just upended itself. Jess would hardly be thrilled to hear what was going through her patient’s mind now.

It was impossible that it was even going through her mind now.

There wasn’t room in her life, in her heart, in her head for even one single extra emotion, let alone six feet two of made-in-Spain testosterone.

‘How are you finding it?’ Jess asked as they walked in step back to the emergency department, and then Jess gave a kind smile, ‘I’m just making conversation...’

‘I know.’ Izzy grinned and forced herself back to a safer conversation than the one she was having with herself. ‘Actually, it’s been really nice. It’s good having something else to think about.’

Only she wasn’t just talking about work.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘THE nurses are all tied up and I’ve got to dash over to the children’s ward,’ Megan said into the phone. ‘I’ll ask Izzy.’

‘Ask Izzy what?’

She’d been back a full week now.

It was late.

She was tired.

And the patient she was dealing with wasn’t exactly helping Izzy’s mood.

‘I’ve got a patient on NICU,’ Megan explained. ‘A new admission. His mum’s bipolar and Diego wants some sedation for her. The baby was an emergency transfer so there’s no local GP and her medications are all at home. She’s getting really agitated, and really it sounds as if she just needs a good night’s sleep and then her husband can bring in her meds in the morning. Diego wants her seen straight away, though. Is there any chance? I’d do it but I’ve got to go up to the ward.’

‘You’ll have to speak to Josh or one of the nurses,’ Izzy was unusually terse. ‘I’m about to suture someone and then I’m going home.’

She was aware of the rise of Megan’s eyebrow. Normally Izzy was accommodating, but Diego’s name seemed to be popping up in her day all too often—and her thoughts were turning to him too, rather more than Izzy was comfortable with.

Still it wasn’t just a sexy neonatal nurse that had caused Izzy’s terse reaction. Just as Jess had predicted, there would be patients that would touch a very raw nerve with Izzy, and even though she had assured Jess she would have no trouble dealing with them, Evelyn Harris had hit a nerve.

In her early forties she had presented having tripped over the cat and cut her head on the edge of the coffee table. Vivienne, the student nurse, had had a quiet word with Izzy before she had examined her, telling her that she had noticed some other bruises on her arms when she had checked her blood pressure and, sure enough when Izzy had checked the blood pressure again, she had seen the new fingertip bruises, but had chosen not to comment.

‘You’re going to need a few stitches!’ Izzy had said instead. ‘How’s the cat?’

The relief in the room at Izzy’s small joke had been palpable, Evelyn had laughed and John Harris had said the cat would be in the naughty corner, or some other light-hearted thing, and Izzy had smiled back.

Had let him think, as he no doubt did, that she was stupid.

‘Vivienne?’ Izzy called out to a student nurse. ‘Could you set up the minor theatre?’ She smiled at Mrs Harris. ‘I’ll take you over and I’ll be in with you in a moment.’

‘I’ll stay with you,’ Mr Harris reassured his wife, and then explained why to Dumb Doctor Izzy. ‘She doesn’t like needles.’

‘Sorry!’ Izzy breezed. ‘We can only have the patient.’ She gave a very nice smile. ‘We shan’t be long, at least I hope not. You’re my last patient for the night...’ She chatted away, not letting the husband get a word in, acted dizzy and vague and rushed, as if getting home was the only thing on her mind, telling them both to take a seat outside minor ops. Then she headed for the annexe, checked who the on-call social worker was for the night and was just considering her options when Megan had asked the favour. With her emotions already bubbling to the surface, the thought of seeing Diego was the last thing she needed.

There was something about him that got under her skin, though in a nice way, and Izzy, right now, just wasn’t comfortable with nice.

Wasn’t used to nice.

And was nowhere near ready for it either.

As Izzy came into the minor theatre, Vivienne was just bringing Evelyn through and Mr Harris’s voice came through the open door as his wife stepped inside.

‘I’m right outside, darling,’ he said, only Izzy could hear his clear warning.

‘Lie down here, Evelyn,’ Izzy said, then headed over to the small bench in the corner and turned on the radio. ‘Let’s have some music to distract you.’ She washed her hands and pulled on some gloves and then gently gave the wound a clean before injecting in some local anaesthetic. ‘I’m fine on my own, Vivienne,’ Izzy said. ‘It’s pretty busy out there.’

‘I’m to cut for you,’ came the response, but Izzy could cut her own stitches and wanted to be alone with Evelyn, except Vivienne wouldn’t budge. ‘Beth told me to get into Theatre as much as I could.’

‘Could you get me some 3-0 catgut?’ Izzy said, knowing they had run out but checking the wound as if that was the thread she needed. ‘There’s none here, but I think there should be some in the store cupboard.’

‘There isn’t any,’ Vivienne said. ‘I did the stock order with Beth this afternoon.’

Vivienne needed a crash course on taking a hint, but Izzy didn’t have time right now. Evelyn only needed a couple of stitches and Mr Harris would no doubt start to get impatient soon, so Izzy dragged the stool over with her foot and given the time constraints realised she would have to be more direct than she would normally choose.

‘Evelyn,’ Izzy said, ‘is there anything you want to tell me?’

‘Nothing.’

‘I know,’ Izzy said gently. ‘I know that you didn’t just trip...’ She watched her patient’s nervous lick of her dry lips, her eyes anxiously dart to the theatre door. ‘He can’t hear,’ Izzy said. ‘That’s why I put the radio on. You can talk to me.’

‘Can you just do your job and suture me?’ Evelyn bristled. ‘I tripped! Okay?’

‘There’s a bruise on the opposite cheek, finger marks on your arms. I can sort out help...’

‘Really?’ The single word was so loaded with sarcasm, just so scornful and filled with dark energy that Izzy let out a breath before she spoke next.

‘I can ring the social worker. There are shelters...’

‘I’ve a seventeen-year-old son.’ Evelyn’s lip curled in bitter response. ‘The shelters won’t let me bring him with me. Did you know that?’ she challenged, and Izzy shook her head.

‘So what do you suggest, Doctor? That I leave him with him?’

‘No, of course not, but if I get someone to speak with you, they could go through your options. I can speak to the police. You don’t have to go back tonight.’

‘You’re not helping, Doctor,’ Evelyn said. ‘In fact, you could very well be making my life a whole lot worse.’

The stitches took no time, and Izzy knew that dragging it out and keeping

Evelyn’s husband waiting would only make things worse for her patient, but as Vivienne snipped the last thread Izzy had one more go.

‘Is there anyone you can talk to? A friend perhaps...’

‘You really don’t get it, do you?’

Except Izzy did.

‘I don’t have friends! At least, none of my choosing.’

Evelyn struck a dignified pose as she swung her legs down from the gurney and Izzy recognised the glare in her eyes only too well, because she had shot out that look many times before if anyone had dared so much as to assume that her life was less than perfect.

‘Do I need to sign anything?’ Evelyn asked.

‘No.’ Izzy shook her head. ‘If you...’ She looked at Evelyn and her voice trailed off. Evelyn’s decision to stay wasn’t going to change, not till her son’s future was taken care of. Izzy just hoped to God she’d survive that year. ‘When was your last tetanus?’

‘I had one...’ Evelyn swung her bag over her shoulder ‘...six weeks ago.’

I’ll bet she did, Izzy thought as she stood there, clearing the trolley. She could see her hands shaking as she disposed of the sharps and as Evelyn left Theatre, Izzy had to bite on her lip as the young nurse’s disbelieving voice filled the still room.

‘Straight back to him...’ Her voice was incredulous. ‘Why doesn’t she just lea—’ And then Vivienne’s voice abruptly halted as perhaps she remembered who she was talking to and what had had happened the night Izzy had tried to just leave.

‘She has her reasons,’ Izzy said. ‘And, frankly, if that’s your attitude, she’s hardly likely to share them with you.’

‘I’m sorry, Izzy.’

And she could have left it there, but Izzy chose not to. Vivienne was thinking of a career in Emergency and, well, it was time she faced a few home truths.

‘You’re a nurse,’ Izzy said, and her voice wobbled with long-held-in emotion, ‘not the bloody jury. Remember that when you’re dealing with patients in Emergency.’

Her shift was nearly over and all she wanted was out, so she left the messy trolley and was tempted to just go to the lockers and get out of there. She was angry and close to tears and there was Evelyn walking out of the department, her husband’s arm around her. Then he stopped and fished his phone from his jacket and took a call, and Evelyn patiently waited then she turned and for a second. For just a teeny second their eyes locked and and it was the secret handshake, the password, the club, and

Evelyn’s expression changed as she realised her doctor was a fully paid up member...

‘Mrs Harris...’ Izzy scribbled down her mobile number on a head injury information chart and walked briskly over. ‘Sorry.’ Izzy gave a busy shrug. ‘I forgot to give you this. Here’s your head injury instructions, have a read through...’

‘Thank you.’

‘And watch out for that cat!’ Izzy added, then gave a vague smile at Evelyn and one to her husband before they walked off into the night. Izzy’s heart was thumping, not sure what she had just done and not sure what she would even do if Evelyn did call.

She just wanted to do something.

‘Izzy!’

That Spanish voice was too nice for her mood right now.

‘Can I ask a favour?’ Diego gave her a smile as he poked his head out of a cubicle, but she didn’t return it.

‘I’m about to go off duty.’

‘I was off duty forty minutes ago and I’m back on in the morning.’ Diego wasn’t quite so nice now. One of his mums was about to tip into trouble, the mother of one his precious babies no less. He had spent two hours dealing with red tape, trying to get hold of her GP to fax a prescription, to no avail, or to get a doctor on NICU to see Maria, but of course she wasn’t actually a patient at the hospital.

Yet!

Maria was growing more agitated by the minute and no one seemed to give a damn. ‘I have a woman who gave birth four days ago, following twenty-four hours of labour. Her child has multiple anomalies, she has hardly slept since her baby was born and she and her husband have driven one hundred miles today as there was no room for them in the helicopter.’ Oh, he told her, even if it was Izzy, he told her, even as she opened her mouth to say that she’d see the patient, still he told her, because Diego knew Izzy was far better than that. ‘Now she can’t settle and is doing her best not to go into meltdown. Can I get a doctor to prescribe me some sedation?’

‘I’m sorry, okay?’ Izzy’s apology was instant and genuine—she had never been one to dash off at the end of her shift, but Evelyn had unsettled her, not to mention Diego. She was having great trouble keeping her mask from slipping, but it wasn’t the patients’ fault. ‘Of course I’ll see her.’

Maria was agitated and pacing and the very last thing she needed was endless questions and an examination, and Izzy could see that. Diego had given her a good brief and on gentle questioning Izzy found out what medications the patient was on.

‘If I could just get some sleep,’ Maria pleaded, and Izzy nodded.

‘I’ll be back in just a moment.’

She was and so too was a nurse from the neonatal unit to relieve Diego.

‘Take two tablets now,’ Izzy said, and gave the handover nurse the rest of the bottle. ‘She can have two more at two a.m., but don’t wake her if she’s resting. Will someone be able to check her?’

‘Absolutely,’ Diego said. ‘Maria’s staying in the parents’ wing, but I’ll get my staff to pop in and see her through the night.’

‘I’m sure,’ Izzy said to her patient, ‘that once you’ve had a decent rest you’ll be feeling a lot better. I’m on in the morning,’ Izzy added, writing some notes. ‘If Maria doesn’t settle,’ Izzy added to the nurse, ‘she’ll need to come back down to us.’

It was straightforward and simple and as the nurse took Maria back up to the ward, Diego thanked her.

‘I’m sorry if I came on strong.’

‘Not at all,’ Izzy said. ‘She needed to be seen. It’s just been a...’ She stopped talking; he didn’t need to hear about her difficult shift, so she gave him a brief smile and walked on.

Except Diego was going off duty too.

‘How’s faking it going?’ Had he fallen into step beside her that morning, or even an hour ago, Izzy would have managed a laugh and a witty retort, but even a smile seemed like hard work right now, so she just hitched her bag up higher and walked more briskly through the sliding doors and into the ambulance forecourt. But Diego’s legs were longer than hers, and he kept up easily.

‘Izzy, I was wondering....’

‘Do you mind?’ She put up her hand to stop him talking, gave an incredulous shake of her head. What was it with people today that they couldn’t take a hint if she stood there and semaphored them? ‘I just want...’ Oh, God, she was going to cry.

Not here.

Not now.

She hadn’t yet cried.

Oh, there had been some tears, but Izzy had been too scared to really cry, to break down, because if she did, maybe she wouldn’t stop.

Scared that if she showed her agony to others they would run when they saw the real her, and scared to do it alone because it was so big, this black, ever-moving shape that had no clear edges, that grew and shrank and transformed.

But she couldn’t outrun that black cloud tonight.

She was trying not to cry, trying to breathe and trying to walk away from him to get to her car, as she had tried to that awful night.

No, there was no getting away from it.

Her hands were shaking so much she dropped her keys and it took all her strength not to sink to her knees and break down right there. Instead she got into the car, sat gripping the wheel, holding it in and begging it to pass, but it held her a moment longer, pinning her down. She sat in her car and she was tired, so tired and angry and ashamed and sad...

Sad.

Sad was bigger than angry, bigger than tired, bigger than her.

It was in every cell and it multiplied. It was the membrane of every cell and the nucleus within, it spread and it grew and it consumed and she couldn’t escape it any longer. As she doubled over she could feel her baby kick inside and it was so far from the dream, so removed from anything she had envisaged when she had walked down that aisle, that the only word was sad.

She didn’t even jump when the passenger door opened and Diego slid into the passenger seat.

‘Can’t you just leave me alone?’

Diego thought about it for a moment then gave an honest answer. ‘It would seem not.’

‘You know, don’t you?’ Izzy said, because everyone else did and so he surely must.

‘A little,’ Diego admitted. ‘I didn’t at first, but that morning, when you came to my office, I’d just found out.’

‘I thought you were a bit awkward.’

Maybe for a second, Diego thought, but he’d been awkward for another reason that morning, but now wasn’t really the time to tell her.

‘I’ve done something stupid...’ Izzy said. ‘Just then, when you asked me to see Maria.’ He sat patiently, waiting for her to explain. ‘I had a woman, I think her husband beats her—actually, I don’t think, I know. She wouldn’t let me help her. I can see now that I rushed in, but I didn’t want her to go home to him. I knew what he’d be like when they got home, you could just tell he was annoyed that she was even at the hospital, even though he’d put her there. Anyway, she wouldn’t let me get a social worker or the police....’ She turned and saw the flash of worry on his face. ‘I didn’t confront him or anything, he’s none the wiser that I know.’

‘You can’t help her if she doesn’t want it.’

‘I gave her my phone number.’ Izzy waited for his reaction, waited for him to tell her not to get involved, that she had been foolish, but instead he thought for a long moment before commenting.

‘I think,’ he said slowly, ‘that your phone number would be a very nice thing to have.’ She blinked. ‘And I’m not flirting,’ Diego said, and she actually gave a small smile. ‘Other times I flirt, but not then. Did you talk to anyone?’