Kitabı oku: «Their Marriage Miracle», sayfa 2

Tom continued, oblivious to her feelings, ‘Stella’s our head theatre nurse. If you need to know anything, ask her.’

‘Hello, Stella. I guess that means we’ll be working together this week.’

‘Yes, we will.’ The nurse glanced sideways at her, a multitude of questions racing across her face.

Those questions brought another thought to mind. Had Tom settled down with another woman? Six years was a long time to remain single, especially for a warm, caring man like Tom. Women had always been attracted to him, so it wouldn’t have been hard for him to find someone else. Her heart squeezed tight. Of course she didn’t mind. She would be very happy for him if that was the case. Really. Her hands clenched at her sides. Really.

‘Jarrod’s in the recovery room.’ Stella broke through Fiona’s tumultuous thoughts.

Tom fired questions at his nurse. ‘Any other injuries? Did he knock his head? Lose consciousness? There’ll probably be internal bleeding from landing on the ground.’

‘He’s got a few scratches with light bleeding and says he didn’t hit his head. He seems remarkably happy, as though he’s done nothing wrong climbing that tree.’ Stella’s lips tightened with disapproval.

Fiona followed Tom into the theatre recovery room. A boy of about ten years lay on the bed. A light smattering of blood, which appeared to have come from a deep scratch on his hand, stained his denim jacket and jeans. A woman holding a penlight torch peered under his eyelids.

‘Kerry, thanks for coming in. Any major problems with our lad?’ Tom asked, reaching for an X-ray film lying on the end of the bed.

‘Apart from a broken arm, he’s a very lucky boy. His vitals are good, shock level low.’

The boy grinned, before wincing as pain snagged him. ‘It wasn’t a big tree.’

‘You shouldn’t have been up it at all,’ Tom growled. But understanding lightened his face as he put aside the X-ray to gently palpate Jarrod’s lower left arm.

Tom looked to Fiona. ‘Looks like our tour is on hold.’ He nodded to the woman with the penlight. ‘Kerry’s one of our anaesthetists. Kerry, this is Fiona Fraser, the plastic surgeon.’

And he was sticking to using her maiden name. Pain stabbed her beneath the ribs as she reached for Kerry’s outstretched hand.

‘I’m glad we’ve caught up before we start tomorrow’s surgery.’

Kerry’s dazzling smile made Fiona feel welcome for the first time since she’d touched down on the airstrip. The hard knot in her stomach finally eased a little. ‘So am I.’

Stella spoke to Tom. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. I’ve got to prepare for my in-laws’ wedding anniversary dinner.’

Tom waved at her. ‘I’m sorry, I’d forgotten all about you wanting to leave early. You get going. We’ll manage here.’

‘I can help you with Jarrod,’ Fiona offered, watching Stella leave and thinking how different Tom’s attitude had become. He’d always used to expect his staff to put patients before everything. ‘I’ve worked with a lot of children recently,’ she added defensively.

Tom glanced up, an assessing look in those steely eyes. Then he dipped his chin. ‘Jumping straight in? Why not? I’d appreciate it. The haemophilia might mean this is not a straightforward fracture.’

Warmth spread through her at the thought of working with Tom again. Then Jarrod groaned, quickly dampening her mood. She queried Tom, ‘Have you got clotting factors on hand? Vitamin K?’

‘Plenty of those. With eight haemophiliacs here this week, we’re well prepared.’ Tom lifted his head from examining Jarrod and focused on Fiona. ‘We’ll set this fracture, clean up that cut and those scratches, then a shot of vitamin K and some clotting factor to stop the bleeding.’

‘Haemophilia A or B?’ she asked.

‘A, but I’d still like to check his notes.’

But he knew what was in those notes, which went to show how thoroughly he worked with each patient.

‘Here you go.’ Kerry handed a file over to Tom. ‘Do you need me for anything else? If not I’d like to get back to the twins. We were in the middle of baths when Stella phoned.’

‘Twins? How old are they?’ Fiona turned to the anaesthetist.

‘Three-year-old rascals.’

‘You must have your hands full at times.’ Fiona pushed down on a sudden spurt of longing to hold a small child. Often, especially after she’d spent time at one of the clinics where she worked, this need would overtake her, rattle her, and keep her awake at nights. But why right now, when she was with Tom for the first time in years? It wasn’t as though she would ever be having another child. And certainly not with Tom. But she had had a baby, a beautiful little boy, and here she stood beside his father, totally confused, ready to run and hide from all the emotion assailing her.

Kerry spoke as though from far away. ‘They keep us very busy, the adorable scallywags.’

Huh? What? Of course, the twins. Concentrate. On answering Kerry. On helping Jarrod. As if she could control her emotions that easily. But she had to. Her smile stretched her lips tight. ‘How do you manage to work as well as look after two children? Do you have a nanny?’

‘I only work every second week, and my sister-in-law looks after them for me those days.’

Tom waved a hand in Kerry’s direction. ‘Get out of here while you can. And give those two bundles of trouble a hug from their godfather.’

‘Come and do that yourself. If they don’t see you soon they’ll think you’re a stranger next time you arrive bearing armloads of gifts. And bring Fiona with you.’

Godfather? Tom? He’d be fantastic. He adored children, and seemed to know instinctively how to communicate with them at any age. Another familiar pain curled around her heart, stopping her from moving. Her head filled with the vision of Tom holding his dark-haired son in his arms and rocking him to sleep with infinite patience; and the old pain that she’d learned to breathe through, live through, but never to vanquish, seized her. Tom should have more children of his own. He was missing out on so much. So were those unborn babies.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she struggled to rein in her seesawing emotions. Meeting up with Tom again was turbulent. And with past issues already battering at her in a way she hadn’t expected she felt bruised internally. She leaned into the wall for a moment, gathering her strength.

‘Fi? Are you all right?’ A strong hand held her elbow with surprising gentleness.

Sweet mama, please don’t call me Fi. Fi belonged to another time, another life. A life when this man had loved her. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I don’t know what came over me.’

When she opened her eyes again she found Tom watching her closely. She dragged out a smile. ‘Where do you keep the clotting factors? I’ll get them for you.’

His hand stayed on her elbow, sending heat up her arm. Her body leaned closer to him. ‘Are you ill?’ he asked softly.

‘Not at all. Just a bit tired, I guess. It was a long flight and I’m out of practice.’

‘Keep Jarrod entertained for a few minutes while I fetch his shots. Then I’ll take you to get a cup of tea and some food. I bet you haven’t eaten in hours. Do you still get light-headed and cranky when you’re hungry?’ His lips curved ever so slightly upward.

‘Not normally.’ But today hadn’t been exactly normal.

‘Then I’m a lot safer already.’

Was he teasing her?

Fiona shook her head as he headed out the room. If Tom could find it in himself to tease her then things might be looking up.

He returned quickly, with a stainless steel dish containing vials and a syringe. ‘Okay, young man. Let’s get this over.’

Jarrod held an arm out, heavily scarred from numerous similar injections. ‘Bang it in there, Doc.’

As Tom filled the syringe with vitamin K, he spoke to Jarrod. ‘Tell me why you were climbing a tree in icy conditions.’

‘Because it’s fun.’ Jarrod’s lips squeezed together and his eyes were slits, daring Tom to disagree with him.

Fiona grinned. ‘Of course it is. Trees are made for boys to climb.’

‘See!’ Jarrod’s eyes lit up as he faced off Tom. ‘She understands, and she’s not a boy.’

Tom shoved his hand across his scalp in a gesture so familiar Fiona’s stomach knotted. Except in the past his hair had been a tangle of curls. ‘I guess I have to agree about the fun.’

‘Girls like climbing trees, too. But you still have to be careful, Jarrod,’ Fiona admonished gently.

‘Yeah, I know, but I wanted to go higher than the others.’

‘And now you’ve got a broken arm. No doubt you’re in some pain as well,’ Tom noted.

‘It does hurt.’ Jarrod winced. ‘But it’s worth it. This is a cool place, and I’ve got new friends.’

‘That’s what this week’s all about,’ Tom smiled at the boy, genuine warmth lightening his eyes. Then he turned to her. ‘When did you last plaster an arm?’

‘Probably when I was an intern.’ Was this a small olive branch? Working together on Jarrod’s arm?

Tom manoeuvred Jarrod through the door and into a smaller room. ‘What do you reckon, Jarrod? Should we let Dr Fraser loose on you?’

‘Yeah. Can I write on the arm so she gets the right one?’ Jarrod dragged up a cheeky grin, but his pale cheeks showed he was tiring.

‘How about I plaster your mouth and keep you quiet for a while?’ Fiona winked at the boy.

‘Mum would love that.’

‘Okay, let’s get this done. Fiona, I’ll hold the arm if you want to start.’ Tom nodded to the tape waiting on a benchtop.

Jarrod’s arm was soon in a cast and resting in a sling.

‘You be careful with that, young man.’ Tom sounded stern. ‘Don’t go hitting any of your new mates over their heads with it. I don’t want to find I’m stitching up skull wounds all week.’

Fiona grinned. Her tension had slipped away while they’d worked together. It felt good. There might be a lot of misunderstanding between them, but at least they were on the same side when it came to their patient. And they’d communicated without words as she’d wound the wet tape around Jarrod’s arm. So, they hadn’t lost everything that had been good between them. But was it enough to find their way back to a point where they could really discuss the past and lay it to rest for ever?

* * *

Tom explained everything to Jarrod’s parents when they arrived moments later, anxious and dishevelled. After hugs and affectionate growls at their son, they led a chastened Jarrod away to his room, and Tom turned to Fiona.

‘Come on. I’ll show you your accommodation. Then we can grab that cup of tea before your first appointment.’ He slung her pack over his shoulder and took her elbow. Instantly he knew he’d made a mistake. To hold her, no matter how lightly, zapped his brain, befuddled him completely. But she’d looked so lost that he’d had to take hold of her and lead her along. He’d acted without thought. The desire to help her was an integral part of him and had been from the day he’d first set eyes on her in the paediatric ward of Auckland Hospital.

He kept his hand on her elbow. He could still be professional and hold her like this. Yeah, right. So much for his self-control.

‘The tea sounds wonderful,’ Fiona murmured.

Her honeyed voice sent memories clawing through his mind. Memories that slammed through his body and lifted goosebumps on his skin. Memories that dredged up confusion and nostalgia. Heat and fire.

His reaction to her shocked him. He’d schooled his mind to accept her coming to Hanmer Springs. He hadn’t thought it would be too hard to keep her at arm’s length. He’d tried to convince himself that he was so over her that she could dance naked in front of him and he’d turn away.

‘Liar.’ He’d never be able to do that.

‘What?’ Fiona asked.

‘You caught me talking to myself.’ He’d made a mistake earlier when he’d called her Fi. His stomach clenched in a spasm. Don’t start thinking of her as Fi. That was a sure-fire way of getting entangled in emotions he didn’t want to face. He had loved her deeply, and some of those feelings still existed, pulling him to her even as he grappled with her presence. Did she know how shaken he felt by her appearance? He desperately hoped not. She must not know she still had the power to unnerve him. Ever since he’d learned that Jerome’s replacement was none other than Fiona he’d felt antsy, as if something he didn’t want to deal with was about to slap him across the face, and if anyone could make him face up to whatever that was, Fiona could.

He headed out into the corridor and strove for a neutral subject to talk about. ‘I take it from what you said you haven’t done much flying lately?’

‘I’ve kept current, but that’s about all. Hiring a plane isn’t always easy in some of the countries I’ve been to.’ She shivered, as though she had a chill, and hugged herself tight.

‘Look at you. You’re freezing.’ The building felt very snug to him. ‘We’ve got heat pumps everywhere.’

Her eyes rolled. ‘It’s not exactly the middle of summer in here.’

‘How long have you been back from Pakistan?’ He still had trouble believing she’d worked there. But according to her CV that wasn’t the only part of the world she’d been to.

‘I spent nearly a month in Australia with Dad, then came home a few days ago.’

‘All that heat? Those flies? I am finding it hard to imagine you in those conditions.’

That stung her. He saw it in the clenching of her hands, in the widening of her eyes and the tightening of her mouth. Unwittingly he’d insulted her.

Remorse mingled with curiosity within him. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so rude. I seem to be overreacting to everything you say.’

Her reply was quiet, thoughtful. ‘I can understand your sentiments. I’d have said the same thing a few years ago, but believe it or not, I’ve changed.’ She hesitated, as though wondering how much to say.

‘Tell me more.’ He found he really did want to know all about her, and not because he needed the distraction. Where had she spent the years since they’d separated? Who had she worked for? How had she coped with her grief?

Her chin lifted and her shoulders tugged back, in that endearing manner of hers. ‘You’ve seen my credentials. I’ve worked in various countries where people have nothing but a tin roof over their heads. Mostly doing skin grafts over burns, repairing scars—anything to make their lives a little less horrific.’

‘Fi, it’s fantastic, but you have to admit you had no intention of doing anything like that when you were still specialising.’ Damn it, he’d used the Fi word again. But again she’d surprised him. Leopards didn’t change their spots. Neither would Fiona go to live in some of the most uncomfortable locations in the world. Not unless she took a jumbo jet full of luxuries to keep her happy.

Wait up. He wasn’t giving her a chance. Already he’d noticed small changes in her. Mostly physical ones, true. And in the kind of clothes she now wore. She also seemed a lot calmer than she’d used to be. So what was to say she hadn’t changed majorly in her attitude to life? She’d certainly had plenty of reasons to. If she had, he could only admire her for it. And wonder where she was emotionally. Had she got over Liam’s death enough to want children again? Had she managed to get to the point where she could look back on their marriage and remember the good things it had had going for it?

He remembered a lot of those good things, but that didn’t mean he wanted to repeat the experience. Friday nights had been especially lonely ever since she’d left, because Fiona had always made them special—closing out the world, tuning out work, cooking a meal that they had time to enjoy while they chatted and relaxed and laughed together. He’d missed her spontaneous hugs and the way she’d creep up behind him to slide her arms around his waist and lay her face on his back between his shoulder blades. That small act had always made him feel so loved. He shoved down on the knot of warmth creeping under his ribs and changed tack.

‘What happened to that fantastic opportunity to go into private practice with some of the country’s best plastic surgeons waiting for you once you’d qualified?’

‘I turned it down. It didn’t seem like the right thing for me any more. And as it happened, it was the best decision career-wise I ever made.’ As she talked her deep azure eyes lightened—eyes that had haunted his sleep for six long, unrelenting years.

Glancing at his watch, he told her, ‘I’d like to hear all about what you’ve been up to, but it’ll have to wait. Time’s speeding by.’ He strode along the corridor to the staff quarters and the door leading out to his cottage. He wanted to pretend she wasn’t right behind him. He needed space between them so he could put everything back into perspective. Fat chance. Hearing her trotting steps as her shorter legs tried to keep pace with his long ones made him smile inside, and he slowed down to accommodate her, as he’d used to before they’d crashed and burned.

‘Fi—’ Damn it. ‘Fiona, let me take those other bags.’ He reached for them, slipping them out of her grasp.

‘I can manage.’

‘I know, but humour me. I’m trying to be the perfect host.’

She smiled up at him, and his heart lurched. Just like that. A simple smile, and she’d tugged him even closer, had him remembering all sorts of sweet things about her.

Whoa. Go carefully. Put the barriers back up and keep your distance. Because, as much as he felt drawn to Fiona again, he couldn’t trust her not to trample on his feelings. In order to protect himself he had to remember to act professionally with her.

CHAPTER THREE

FIONA missed Tom’s hand on her elbow the moment he reached for her other bags. If it had meant carrying her bags to keep that small contact then she’d have gladly done so. But she didn’t have a choice.

So she’d try talking instead.

‘Tell me how it works around here. Where your patients come from, that sort of thing.’

‘There are two components to the hospital.’ Relief underlined Tom’s words, as though he might be grateful for the change in topic. ‘The surgical unit where you’ll be working is where we see children from all over the South Island who need various specialists’ care. I look after the general paediatric cases. Then I get in other specialists, usually for a week at a time.’

‘So this week is devoted to patients requiring plastic surgery?’

‘Exactly. A lot of the children are from underprivileged backgrounds, but I take everyone who needs us and find funding from various sources.’

‘Social Services?’

‘For some cases. We also rely on charities. In here.’ He waved her into a large room containing a kitchen and dining area at one end, an array of comfortable armchairs and a television at the other. ‘This is the communal living quarters used by specialist staff we draft in and the interns who rotate through here from Canterbury Medical School.’

He paused to draw a deep breath, and Fiona instantly sensed she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.

‘All the rooms are in use, so originally I arranged for Jerome to share my cottage. We get on very well and have become friends over the years.’ His troubled gaze met hers with defiance. ‘Which means you are now sharing with me. I know it’s not going to be easy for either of us, but I hope we can make it work.’

‘You couldn’t change the arrangements?’ She couldn’t blame him if he’d wanted to, but nor could she stop the hurt that stabbed her.

‘Unfortunately not—because that would’ve been for the best.’ His tone was neutral, but his stance rigid.

‘I’m not here for an argument, Tom. I’m filling a gap at the hospital for you.’ Exasperation rocked through her. Her bottom lip trembled. Exhaustion had caught up, big-time. What else could be causing this reaction to him? Certainly not having him standing so close to her.

Moving away, she stared at up at his face, suddenly cross for putting them both in this situation. Drawing a deep breath—a steady one, she was surprised to note—she suggested, ‘How about I move into a motel or hotel in the village? It’s only half a kilometre away. I won’t need transport and I’d be available all the time.’

‘I already tried that but everything’s booked out. There’s a golf tournament on this week. Plus it’s school holidays, and many families come here for the snow and hot pools.’

‘Guess we’re stuck with this arrangement, then.’

Tom mightn’t be too happy about it, but she felt another surge of hope. This could be the opportunity that she wanted to get alongside him again. But first she’d let him get used to having her around.

* * *

‘I’ll do my best to stay out of your way. Now, where’s this place you live? I’d like to unpack and put on some warmer clothes.’

Tom stood looking at her as though he had more to say. But finally he turned around, wrenched open an outside door, and led the way along a path winding to a stone cottage set amongst young oak trees.

‘Here’s a key for you.’ He delved into his pocket. ‘Come and go as you please.’

‘Is there anyone else living here?’ Did he have a partner she needed to know about? ‘Am I going to get in anyone else’s way in the bathroom?’ Her stomach crunched as she waited for his reply.

His grey eyes darkened with sadness. ‘I live alone. And, for the record, I haven’t got a woman in my life at the moment.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’ She smiled, and her stomach relaxed. Why did this knowledge make her feel better? It wasn’t as though she’d come to claim Tom back. Something niggled at the back of her brain. Really? No, this week was about tying up the loose ends, not starting over.

‘I’m not saying I haven’t dated on and off, but this place takes up a lot of my attention. No one I’ve met has been able to deal with that. I guess I’m too selfish to make allowances.’

‘I’d say you were dedicated.’ And still working every hour there was in a day, to the detriment of everything else.

‘What about you? Have you taken any poor, unsuspecting man to meet your father over the years?’ A straightforward question, but did she hear more than curiosity behind the words?

‘No way.’ Then a chuckle tripped over her tongue at the memory of Tom meeting her father for the first time. ‘I’m not game enough to put anyone through that ordeal ever again.’

He nodded, gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘Very wise. Meeting your father is not to be taken lightly, or without protection.’

She grinned, remembering the difficult introduction Tom and her father had had. From that day on they’d never agreed on anything. They’d both loved her for different reasons and in different ways. Her father had demanded too much of her. Her husband had asked nothing of her. ‘Believe it or not, Dad’s calmed down a lot lately, having finally accepted that I will live my life how I want to, not how he expects. And I’ve learned not to try and live up to his expectations.’

‘Bet that wasn’t easy.’ A twinkle lightened his eyes. ‘Let’s go in before you freeze to death.’

Inside the front door, Fiona stared around the tiny entrance-way and along the hall, avidly looking for anything from their life together. All she saw were stunning black and white landscapes: mountains, rivers, the ocean.

‘Your photography is still superb.’

‘The scenery around here lends itself to great photographs.’

She quickly scanned the photos, searching. Not one photo of the two of them. Nothing of Liam. As a keen photographer, Tom used to plaster the walls of their home with photos. Many of her, she admitted. Her mood slumped. She had been expecting too much. Disappointment stabbed her diaphragm, as though she had a stitch from running too hard. Putting a hand to the wall, she leaned against it, sucking air through her teeth.

Her pack landed with a thud on the floor of a room off to the left, and Tom called out, ‘This is your room. Mine’s opposite, while the kitchen, lounge and bathroom are at the end of the hall.’

With an effort, she dragged herself upright and clumped through the bedroom door. The furnishings in the small, neat room were sparse. The bed stood square to the wall, the coverings tucked in evenly. Only the vibrant terracotta and blue decorating made the room warm and welcoming. Tom had a good eye for colour.

‘This will be fine.’ It was luxury after Pakistan. Then she thought about the time she’d just spent in Sydney with her father on her way home. His new apartment overlooking Sydney Harbour was crammed with luxuries. What she’d once taken for granted now seemed obscenely excessive. This small room was perfect.

‘The kitchen’s well stocked, so help yourself to anything you want. There’s a firebox that runs day and night. You’ll soon feel warmer.’

Her body might feel warmer, but she doubted her heart would ever defrost. It had frozen all those years ago and she’d never known how to thaw it. She’d tried talking with Tom then, but she hadn’t been able to find the right words to get through to him. The harder she’d tried, the worse she’d made things and the further away from her he’d pulled, until they hadn’t been able to talk about anything. Not even what to have for breakfast.

Tom’s voice broke through her reverie. ‘Do you still take milk in your tea?’

A mundane question that spoke of a past they’d shared and hinted that now there might be things neither knew about each other.

‘Definitely no milk. I got used to drinking black tea while travelling.’

Again those eyebrows rose in astonishment, but at least his eyes were on the friendly side of the barometer. ‘As I said, I’m looking forward to hearing about your excursions.’

‘You’re still finding it hard to believe I could leave my feather duvet behind?’

‘Do you blame me?’

No, she couldn’t. Sometimes it had been hard enough believing it herself.

* * *

Tom stretched his legs out under his desk and yawned. ‘Sorry, late night last night.’

Fiona was with him in his consulting room, meeting the patients on tomorrow’s operating schedule. He’d sat quietly throughout each consultation, listening and observing. Now she’d just finished talking to the parents of a six-month-old baby born with a cleft palate, hopefully allaying their fears about their darling child undergoing surgery. She always felt a small thrill at being able to repair the fissure in a baby’s mouth, making that child’s life normal and saving them terrible angst as they grew up and mixed with more and more people.

‘A patient keep you up?’ she asked. Or one of those women who couldn’t deal with his dedication to his hospital? Fiona wondered.

Snap out of it. The guy had a life, and he didn’t have to explain himself to her. If his life appeared a whole lot more balanced than hers, then she’d be pleased for him. It wasn’t his fault hers lacked love and friendship. She’d made it that way. Deliberately. In an attempt to keep it pain-free.

‘No, a birthday party for one of the staff. Hanmer Springs isn’t as dull as some people would have you think.’ Tom smiled. ‘Though it does take some getting used to. At least it did for me, being a city dweller. There’s excitement, and then there’s excitement.’

She grinned straight back. ‘Late nights never used to wear you out. You showing your age, or what?’ Clapping her hand against her forehead, she exclaimed, ‘Oh, of course—it’s the big four O coming up at the end of this year. No wonder you’re so tired, you old man.’

‘Careful, you’re only five years behind me.’

He looked darned good, having matured from the boyish good-looks of the thirty-year-old she’d first met into a very handsome man comfortable in his own skin. Even the new lines around his mouth added character.

‘That’s a lifetime, buster,’ she quipped, before concentrating on the pages in her hand, needing to quell the sudden thumping in her chest. ‘There are some notes on a boy here that I didn’t receive by fax. Cameron Gordon?’

‘A late addition to tomorrow’s list. The paperwork arrived in this morning’s post. He had a cleft palate repaired when he was a baby but for some reason his harelip wasn’t corrected.’

‘But he’s ten. He must’ve suffered a lot of teasing over the years.’

‘I think he got lost in the system. His parents divorced when he was three, and from what I can gather he’s been shunted back and forth between them ever since. When his GP phoned on Wednesday asking me to help I couldn’t refuse.’

‘Do you ever turn a child away?’

Tom shrugged. ‘Not if I can help it.’

A gentle tap on the door interrupted them.

‘Sophie Clark and her father are here,’ the cheerful receptionist announced, and held the door wider to allow them through.

Fiona uncrossed her ankles and straightened up from leaning against the edge of Tom’s desk, then turned to greet her last patient.

A middle-aged man gently led a slight, shy teenage girl into the room. The girl hunched against her father, her face hidden behind a curtain of long hair.

Fiona’s heart went out to this girl, who obviously hated people seeing her damaged face. A jolt of sadness hit Fiona when she saw the jagged purple scar marring Sophie’s left cheek from just below the eye to the corner of her mouth. The medical notes mentioned a car accident.

Tom shook Mr. Clark’s hand, saying, ‘Jacob, good to see you again. Sophie, how are you? How did you do in the school’s short story contest?’

‘I won.’ Sophie smiled, the dullness in her eyes lifting. She was a beautiful girl, with fine bone structure and enormous eyes, and eyelashes that had to be the envy of every female alive.

‘Brilliant.’ Tom clapped his hands. ‘Now, take a seat. This is Dr Fraser.’

‘Hi, Sophie. I’m your specialist this week.’

‘Hello, Dr Fraser.’

‘Call me Fiona. It’s easier.’ And she was not used to being called Dr Fraser.

Sophie turned the left side of her face away again. ‘Okay, Fiona.’

Fiona sat opposite the girl and reached for her hand. ‘Sophie, you’re a very beautiful girl, and what’s happened to your face doesn’t change that.’