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CHAPTER TWO

THIS was payback.

On a cosmic scale. Punishment for the very real pleasure Lizzie had found last night, dreaming about a pair of chocolate-brown eyes.

She had never expected to see them again. Certainly not at close range. But here they were, on the other side of Dr Kingsley’s desk.

‘Who are you?’

Oh … Lord … It was supposed to come out as ‘Who are you?’ and not ‘Who are you?’, as if she remembered him and was desperate to know his name.

He wasn’t smiling. In fact, he was giving her the same kind of odd look he had when he’d passed her in Bennett’s department store yesterday.

‘I’m Jack,’ he told her. ‘Jack Rousseau.’

His voice was as smooth as the rich chocolate his eyes made her think of. Just as dark, too. And there was a subtle hint of a very attractive accent. Rousseau? Was he French?

Lizzie’s mouth went curiously dry and she dropped her gaze instantly. Not that it helped. He had both his hands on the desk, fiddling with the disc of a stethoscope lying on the blotter. Long, shapely fingers and hands, the backs of which were dusted with dark hair. Absolutely masculine hands but they looked very clever.

Sexy hands. Like the rest of this man whose name meant nothing to her. He was a complete stranger despite this odd feeling that she knew him. A two-second encounter in a crowded shop couldn’t account for this feeling of familiarity but illicit fantasies in the privacy of her own bed certainly could.

This was appalling. She had to say something before her hesitation became any more obvious but Lizzie could feel a blush of gigantic proportions blooming. She felt somehow exposed. Vulnerable. Backed into a corner simply because she’d done a tiny thing for her own pleasure.

There was only one thing for it. She needed to come out fighting. Her chin rose sharply and she met those dark eyes directly.

‘Where’s Dr Kingsley?’ she demanded.

As if to answer her sharp query, the door of the consulting room burst open.

‘I’m so sorry, Lizzie,’ Dave Kingsley said. ‘I wanted to be here to introduce you to Jack myself.’ He sent an apologetic smile to the younger man as he pulled another chair to that side of the desk. ‘Didn’t mean to abandon you for so long either.’

‘Couldn’t be helped,’ Jack Rousseau said graciously. ‘Emergencies happen.’

‘Car accident to a patient of mine who had a transplant five years ago,’ Dave explained to Lizzie, before turning back to his new colleague. ‘Looks like he’s damaged the kidney, unfortunately, along with messing up his spleen and liver.’

‘He’ll be on his way to Theatre, then?’

‘Yes. I might get a call. I said I wanted to have a look before any call was made about removing the transplant. Now …’ The surgeon’s smile signalled his change of focus to Lizzie. ‘You’ve obviously met Jack already.’

‘Mmm …’ Lizzie kept her gaze firmly on Dr Kingsley.

‘And he’s explained why he’s here?’

‘We were about to get to that, I think,’ Jack said.

Lizzie didn’t have to look to know that he was smiling. She could hear it in his voice. He was finding this amusing in some way? She could feel the skin on her forehead tightening as she frowned.

‘Let me do the honours, then,’ Dave said. ‘Mr Rousseau … Jack … is very well known for his expertise in abdominal transplant surgery, Lizzie. Westbridge Park has been trying to lure him away from his Paris base for some time but the best we’ve been able to manage is to persuade him to spend a month or so giving a series of lectures and working with other surgeons in some individualised training programmes. I’m one of them, I’m delighted to say.’

It would have been impolite not to shift her gaze to acknowledge the apparently famous expert. To nod, at least, as a sign of respect. Wiping the frown from her face was a bit more of an ask. Having their paths cross again like this still seemed a rather unfortunate twist of fate given her enthusiastic foray into the world of fantasy last night.

Her frown was noted.

‘I’m not really as young as I look,’ Jack Rousseau said kindly. ‘I’m thirty-six and I can assure you that I’ve had considerable experience in cases such as yours.’

Was he planning to take over her surgery? Misty’s surgery?

‘I’m more than happy with Dr Kingsley’s experience, thank you,’ she announced. ‘For myself and for my daughter.’

‘Heavens above, Lizzie,’ Dave put in. ‘I’m not about to hand you over. Though I have invited Jack to supervise and possibly assist in the surgery if that’s acceptable to you. Never hurts to have an extra set of eyes and hands, particularly if they happen to be regarded as the best in the world.’

The sound from the other man in the room was a protest of modesty. ‘The real reason I want to be there,’ Jack told her, ‘is that I’d like your permission to film the surgeries for use in my upcoming lectures.’

Lizzie stared at him. So he was thirty-six? Yes, she could see the fine lines that life had etched around his eyes and the first hint of the odd silver hair in those dark waves. He had the aura that only came with a combination of intelligence and power and she could imagine how skilled those hands must be. Oddly, the memory of those hands made a sudden heat bloom in her belly. It was disconcertingly difficult to drag her gaze away.

‘I can assure you that it won’t compromise your care in any way,’ Jack continued. ‘I have a highly skilled cameraman who’s worked with me in many major hospitals across Europe and in the States.’

Lizzie blinked at that. He must be famous and to be that famous at such a relatively young age must mean that he was seriously good at what he did.

And this was on top of being by far the most attractive man she’d ever been this close to. Certainly the first chance encounter she’d ever indulged in fantasising about.

That initial embarrassment had faded but did she really want him to be involved in any way with her medical procedures? Being in Theatre while she was lying there with her abdomen exposed?

The very idea made her squirm uncomfortably.

Jack could see that Lizzie wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea.

He sat back, toying with the stethoscope hanging around his neck, listening to Dave Kingsley explain how her case had been chosen out of all the ones they’d reviewed yesterday afternoon for just this purpose.

He could understand why she was uncomfortable with having to deal with an unexpected new development. This morning’s appointment was a crucial point in the journey she was on and lives were at stake on this journey. Specifically, the life of a six-year-old girl. What he could see in front of him was a mother who was prepared to do whatever it would take to keep her family safe.

She didn’t need a father for her children because she loved them so much she didn’t need anybody else. Because they were the best little girls in the whole world.

He’d been right, of course. Her eyes were as blue as her daughter’s.

‘I don’t care about myself,’ she was saying, ‘but I’m not having Misty turned into some kind of reality TV show.’

‘It’s nothing like that,’ Dave assured her. ‘She won’t be identified and it’s purely for the purpose of training other surgeons.’

Lizzie shot a suspicious glance in his own direction and Jack tried to look suitably serious. She was a fighter, this one. Determination like that, especially on behalf of someone else, was admirable. It was hard not to give her an encouraging smile.

She was also … absolument magnifique.

Quite possibly, the most attractive woman Jack had ever seen. So soft and feminine with those curves and the shining waves of her hair. It was her eyes that really caught him, though. They were utterly compelling. The urge to win her trust and thereby win permission to be part of the team that could remove some of the sadness from those eyes was so powerful it made him tighten his grip on the stethoscope he was fiddling with. The plastic cover on the disc popped off and provided him with a momentary and probably very timely distraction.

He shouldn’t be so aware of Lizzie like this. It was unprecedented. Unprofessional. Jack took a steadying breath as he clicked the clear plastic circle back into place. It was only then that he noticed Dave getting out of his chair. He was reading his pager.

‘Have a chat to Jack about it before you make a decision,’ he was saying to Lizzie. ‘We certainly won’t do anything you’re not happy with. Excuse me for a few minutes. They want a decision made about this kidney. It shouldn’t take long.’

And then he was gone and Jack was again alone with Lizzie. He smiled at her.

‘Do you have any questions you’d like to ask, Mrs Matthews?’

‘Yes, I do, Dr Rousseau.’

Jack raised his eyebrows to encourage her.

‘Dr Kingsley said you chose this case as being perfect for filming.’

‘This is true.’

‘He said you spent all afternoon reviewing every case available.’

‘Also true.’

Her gaze was accusing. ‘So how come I saw you in town, then? In Bennett’s?’

She remembered him. Jack tried to ignore the pulse of something pleasant that was warming his gut. ‘I was trying to fit in a bit of Christmas shopping.’ Any further personal-type conversation was entirely unnecessary but Jack found himself continuing nonetheless. ‘Unsuccessful, unfortunately. Partly due to those crowds but mainly thanks to my interlude of impersonating a nelf.’

Lizzie gave her head a small shake that send a wayward curl onto her cheek. She pushed it back. ‘An elf? Holly said something about elves when she saw you but I had no idea what she was talking about.’

She was staring at Jack, clearly puzzled. There was a question in her eyes, too. One that carried an expectation. He had something she wanted.

An explanation? He could give her that, no problem. He could give her a lot more than that, if she would let him. He could potentially make a real contribution to giving her what she wanted more than anything—her child’s health.

For some reason, this case was special. So special there was a distinct niggle at the back of his mind that it was unprofessional to want to be involved this much. Was it because the consultant surgeon he was working with felt the same way? Maybe the concern expressed when they had been discussing it yesterday had been contagious. Whatever the cause was, it had certainly never happened to Jack before and the pull was too powerful to resist. Maybe the ‘nelf’ was his ace card.

‘An elderly woman became unwell after climbing the stairs. I needed somewhere to look after her and one of the saleswomen showed us a private space that happened to be Santa’s rest area. Curtained off behind where he was sitting. Holly saw me through the gap in the curtain and wanted to know who I was and I said I was a helper.’

‘Oh-h …’ Lizzie was smiling now. Just a small smile but it was encouraging. ‘I suppose it was her that decided you were an elf.’

‘I got demerit points because I didn’t have a hat.’

The smile widened. Then it faded and Lizzie’s eyes widened. ‘You were right there?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you heard what Holly was saying to Santa?’

‘Ah …’ The truth was probably obvious in his face. Or the way he diverted his gaze hurriedly. He couldn’t tell her what he’d overheard, could he? Apart from the potential for mutual embarrassment, he was just getting further and further away from what needed to be discussed, which was Lizzie and Misty’s surgeries and the permission for him to be involved.

In an effort to cover his discomfort, he pulled an impressive set of patient notes from the side of his desk to sit right in front of him. He even opened it to the latest sheaf of notes and test results, knowing that consent forms for both the surgery and the filming rights had been tucked behind them. When he glanced up, however, he could see that Lizzie was having none of the change of direction. It reminded him very strongly of the way Holly had refused to budge from Santa’s knee.

‘You’re smiling,’ Lizzie said accusingly. ‘You do know.’

Jack sighed. He was probably blowing his chance of persuading Lizzie to trust him here and welcome his involvement in her case but Holly deserved respect for her determination and courage. So did Lizzie. He wasn’t about to betray a small girl but Lizzie deserved nothing less than the truth.

‘Yes, I do know,’ he acknowledged reluctantly.

She leaned forward a fraction, clearly expecting to hear more. Her lips parted slightly in anticipation and she even moistened the lower one with the tip of a very pink tongue.

Jack felt a groan somewhere deep inside his body. One that could not be allowed to form properly, never mind escape.

‘But I can’t reveal anything,’ he added firmly.

Lizzie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Why not?’

‘Nelf law, I’m afraid. We’re expressly forbidden to reveal Christmas wishes. If we do, they lose any power they have to come true.’

Lizzie’s lips twitched. She was silent for a moment and then it was her turn to sigh. ‘Are you at least allowed to give an opinion on whether or not this wish might be granted?’

Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘I think that’s permissible. And, yes, I think the odds on that wish being granted are quite high. Possibly not before Christmas, though.’

Lizzie’s face fell.

‘But it will happen,’ he added hurriedly. ‘I’m sure of it.’

How could it not happen when this woman was, quite simply, adorable?

If he could see that, as a man who had no interest whatsoever in finding a wife, surely she would be able to pick and choose from any available male that happened to come into her orbit? Not that it was any of his business, of course, and it was far too personal a topic to allow himself to even think about it for a moment longer.

He cleared his throat and tore his gaze away, looking down at the notes. ‘Dave should be back soon. It’s going to be a busy day for you with your final run of tests like the final cross-match and ECG and so on. I don’t want to hold things up, so if you’re really not happy about having me in Theatre, I’ll leave you to it.’

He risked another glance to see her looking torn. Small, white teeth were worrying that full bottom lip and huge, blue eyes were fixed on him with a very searching gaze. ‘So it’s abdominal transplants you specialise in, Dr Rousseau?’

‘Please, call me Jack. I dislike too much formality. May I call you Lizzie?’

She nodded. The pink flush on her cheeks was appealing.

He made his tone friendly but nodded in what he hoped was a serious, professional manner. ‘Indeed I do specialise in abdominal transplants. Kidneys, livers, the occasional whole bowel, in fact.’ He spoilt the serious effect a little by smiling at her. ‘I think kidneys are my favourite. The results of a successful transplant are so rewarding, particularly when it’s from a living donor. A case like yours in not uncommon because there are many parents who are willing to donate an organ or part of one for their child but it’s not something I’ve documented for lecture purposes yet.’

‘And you want to document my case?’

‘I think so. I’d like to run through it quickly with you now, if you are agreeable. Just while we’re waiting for Dr Kingsley to return?’

He was a stranger, this man, and yet Lizzie’s faith in him was growing by the minute.

Trust had been won.

Because of ‘nelf law’? How absurd was that? Except it had nothing to do with his sense of humour or ability to get out of a tight corner. It was to do with the kind of man who would stop and help an elderly woman who wasn’t well. Even more convincingly, one who was prepared to keep the secret of a six-year-old child. Holly might not realise it but her secret was obviously safe.

It was also because of his obvious integrity. They only employed the best here and if Dave Kingsley trusted him on a professional level then she wasn’t about to question his judgement. There was a more tangible level to his professionalism, however. One that made her feel like he genuinely cared about his patients.

Here he was, reviewing her file and reading personal information that she wouldn’t have dreamed of sharing with a stranger on first acquaintance, but it didn’t feel intrusive.

‘So … normal pregnancy and delivery when you were … twenty-four?’

‘That’s right.’

‘And the twins’ development seemed normal for the first two to three years.’

‘Yes.’

He read on in silence for a moment and then he looked up. ‘Two toddlers, one of whom was sick, and you’re a single mother? That must have been a tough time.’

She could see sympathy in his eyes. And a gentleness that made her want to cry. She pressed her lips together and looked away with a simple nod of response. She had learned to cope alone. She didn’t need this man’s sympathy.

The silence lingered a moment longer and then she heard Jack clear his throat again.

‘The diagnosis of hypoplastic and dysplastic kidneys was made when Misty was three … but she didn’t go into end-stage renal failure until earlier this year. And she’s been on dialysis for the last three months?’

‘Yes.’

‘But not peritoneal.’

‘No. I … didn’t want her to have the catheter inserted in her tummy and do home dialysis and have to worry about infection and things. I’d already passed the first compatibility tests and there was no question about not doing a transplant. We hoped that it could be done before the need for dialysis but … what with shifting in with my mother to be closer to the hospital and Misty getting sick and then I caught that bug and …’

Her litany of woes ended as the door opened and her surgeon came back into the room. He looked at both of them and then at the opened case notes.

‘Another review?’

Jack nodded. ‘Just in case Lizzie is agreeable to the filming.’

She could still see the sympathy in his face. The gentleness. And something else. He looked as though he really wanted to be a part of this. As though he genuinely cared.

‘I’m agreeable,’ she said quietly.

‘Excellent.’ Dave Kingsley sounded delighted. He leaned across his desk to pull pads of requisition forms from a plastic tray. ‘You’ll need a chest X-ray and an ECG to sign off your fitness for surgery. We’ll also do an ultrasound of your kidney and bladder and run off the final blood tests for kidney function and cross-match.’

‘But we’ve done that so many times already. I’m as close a match as could be hoped for from a parent.’ Lizzie found herself smiling at Jack. ‘Holly wanted to give Misty one of her kidneys. She was really cross when we told her you had to be eighteen years old.’

He smiled back at her. ‘They’re identical twins, yes?’

‘Yes. They … don’t look exactly the same any more, though. Holly’s taller and …’ And so much healthier.

‘She might well catch up after the transplant,’ Dr Kingsley said. ‘And it’s good to know there might be a perfect match down the track if things don’t go perfectly this time. You do understand there’s no guarantee of success, don’t you?’

Lizzie nodded. ‘I know the statistics are better for live donations and the treatment for any episodes of rejection are getting better all the time. The odds are in our favour.’

‘Very true,’ Jack put in. ‘But that’s why we do a last-minute cross-match to check compatibility again. Just in case any antibodies have sneaked in as a result of the illnesses you’ve both had recently.’

Lizzie nodded again. She crossed the fingers of one hand in her lap, covering them with her other hand so that neither of these highly trained surgeons would see such a childish action.

‘I’d prefer to run the standard checks again for Hep B and C and HIV as well, even though I see that your last results were fine.’ Jack was smiling at her again. ‘I like to tick all these boxes myself for cases I’m involved with.’ He glanced at his colleague. ‘If you don’t see it as interference?’

‘Heavens, no. Sounds like a good quality control measure to me. Feel free to keep ticking boxes in Theatre as well,’ Dave said.

Lizzie could swear that Jack gave her the ghost of a wink. ‘There are so many boxes to tick in there, they need a supply of extra pens. Sterilised, of course.’

Dave was pulling sheets of loose paper from the case notes. ‘I have the consent forms here if you’re ready to sign them?’

Lizzie nodded.

Jack frowned slightly. ‘You’ve discussed this already?’

‘I know about the possible complications,’ Lizzie said.

‘Lizzie’s a nurse,’ Dave explained. ‘She worked in Theatre for quite a while before moving to a job in the emergency department.’

‘I’m not going to change my mind,’ she added firmly.

Jack raised a single eyebrow that told them both this was one of his boxes and her breath huffed out in a resigned sigh.

‘OK. Go ahead. I’ve only worked part time in a general practice since the twins were born so I guess I’m pretty rusty.’

There was an appreciative gleam in Jack’s eyes now that suggested, rather flatteringly, that he thought it would take more than some time away from the front line for her mental wheels to collect rust. Clearly it wasn’t enough to persuade him to make an exception, however. And that was good. A careful surgeon was a good surgeon. Even if he was only there in a supervisory capacity she wouldn’t be impressed by someone who wanted to cut corners.

‘The first thing I’ll say is that death from a kidney donation is exceptionally rare—approximately 0.03 per cent—but it has happened so I have to mention it.’

Lizzie nodded. It was a risk she was more than prepared to take. The alternative of staying alive and watching her precious child die was unthinkable.

‘Other complications might include you needing a blood transfusion during surgery, a small degree of lung collapse, blood clots in your legs or lungs, pneumonia and a UTI or wound infection.’

Lizzie was reaching for the consent form.

Dave pointed to a line on the document. ‘This states that I’ll do the procedure laparoscopically, which should give you a much faster recovery rate, but if it’s difficult for any reason, it gives me permission to go for an open procedure. That would give you a bigger scar and mean that you were in hospital for about a week instead of three to four days.’

‘And Misty? How long will she need to be in hospital for?’

‘Probably at least two weeks. She’ll still need dialysis until the new kidney settles in and we’ll want to make sure everything’s fine before she goes home.’

‘But it’s possible she could be home for Christmas?’ Lizzie asked anxiously.

‘Absolutely.’

Oh … yes … Dr Jack Rousseau’s smile was gorgeous, all right. It wrapped itself around Lizzie like a hug as she signed the necessary permissions for both her own surgery and Misty’s.

Dave Kingsley’s voice sounded oddly distant for a few seconds.

‘Sorry, what was that?’ she said.

‘I said we’ll send you out to see the nurse. She’ll give you a gown and pop you in an examination room. We’ll give you a bit of a once-over and then send you off for the rest of your tests.’

The warm glow that the visiting surgeon’s smile had given her faded so fast Lizzie was left with a faint chill that trickled down her spine. A physical examination? With this Dr Rousseau watching or … worse … ?.doing it himself? She wasn’t bothered by the thought of him seeing parts of her she’d never see herself when she was being operated on. She’d be asleep after all. But to be awake and so aware of him? To have him maybe pressing his hand on her bare stomach?

Oh, Lord! Why did he have to be so young?

So impossibly good looking? And … nice, damn it.

And why, oh, why had she let herself step into fantasyland in the dead of night and imagine just what it would be like to be touched by him?

Maybe her reaction was obvious in the way Lizzie was prising herself off her chair to follow Dr Kingsley’s instructions.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ she heard Jack say. ‘I’ll catch up with the test results later today before we go and visit Misty.’

‘Misty Matthews? She’s in Room 3. You must be Dr Rousseau.’ The nurse’s tone was awed. ‘Welcome to Westbridge.’

‘Thank you. I’m due to meet Dave Kingsley to review this patient. Is he here already?’

‘He was but he got a call up to the ICU. He said to look after you until he got back. Would you like a coffee?’

Jack shook his head. ‘My time is a little limited. I’ll go and see Misty now, if I may.’

‘Of course. This way.’

The whole family was in the small room.

‘This is Dr Rousseau,’ Lizzie told the child in the bed. ‘He’s the doctor who’s going to help Dr Kingsley take Mummy’s kidney out and give it to you.’

‘Hi, there.’ Jack took a step closer to the bed. His shirt collar felt inexplicably tight and he found himself loosening his tie.

He never felt comfortable around small people. They could see too much and had no hesitation in saying whatever came into their heads and sometimes he had no idea how to respond. Or he didn’t understand what on earth they were talking about. Or, worse, they’d cry. A lot.

Misty wasn’t crying. She wasn’t saying anything either. Lizzie was sitting in a chair beside the bed and Holly was right beside the pillow, tilted in as if she wanted to be as close as possible to her twin. The resemblance between the twins was striking. Or maybe it was the difference between them that was making Jack feel like there wasn’t quite enough oxygen in this private room.

Or it could be due to the way Lizzie was sitting, with her arms on Misty’s bed as she leaned forward to talk to the little girl. The way it was making her cleavage so obvious, pushing mounds of skin that looked incredibly smooth and soft into a line of sight he couldn’t avoid to save himself.

Well, he could, but that would mean meeting the intense stares that were coming from both Holly and the older woman in the armchair by the window.

‘You’re going to help with both operations?’ The older woman sounded as wary as she looked.

‘Not at the same time.’ Jack tried his most charming smile. ‘Lizzie’s first and then we go next door to Misty.’

The sniff wasn’t impressed. ‘Doesn’t Misty need a paediatric specialist for her surgery?’

‘Mum …’ Lizzie sounded embarrassed. ‘We talked about this. And you heard what the nurses said about … Jack.’ Her quick glance in his direction was appealingly shy. ‘It wasn’t that I was checking up on you or anything. They were all talking about how famous you are in your field and how lucky we are to have you involved in our case.’

Lizzie’s mother was giving her a stern look. ‘Oh … Jack, now, is it?’

‘We got to know each other this morning,’ Jack said. ‘Didn’t we, Lizzie?’

Her head bobbed. A touch of pink bloomed on her cheeks and she could only meet his gaze for a heartbeat. Jack turned his head back to her mother and extended his hand.

‘Jack Rousseau,’ he said, with another smile. ‘I’m delighted to meet you, Mrs …’

‘Donaldson.’ Her gaze took a moment to meet his. She had been watching Lizzie rather carefully and she clearly hadn’t missed any undercurrent. It was definitely too hot in this room. ‘Maggie,’ she continued. ‘Excuse me if I don’t get up.’

‘Mum’s got a bad hip,’ Lizzie said.

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Jack leaned down to make it easy to shake hands. Maggie’s grip was surprisingly firm.

‘I’m on the waiting list for a replacement.’ The tone was matter-of-fact. Her own physical impairment was an inconvenience that was being dealt with. ‘Next year some time. Perhaps.’

The implications were not lost on Jack. This was Lizzie’s mother. The grandmother of the two fatherless girls. Lizzie had moved in with her mother to keep Misty closer to this hospital and must be relying on her heavily for help. Being in hospital herself for at least the next few days would make Maggie’s role even more vital. There were pressures going on here that were huge. Important. Maybe he could have a word with someone in Orthopaedics and see if there was any way of getting a priority sticker put on Maggie’s case.

A warning bell sounded somewhere in his head. Just how involved was he trying to get here? Maggie’s hip was well outside the orbit of what he should be concentrating on. He was here because of Misty. And Lizzie and their complementary surgeries that he was going to document. Whatever else was going on in his patients’ worlds had absolutely nothing to do with him.

‘It’s Dr Kingsley that is actually doing the surgeries,’ he told Maggie. ‘Lizzie has kindly agreed to let me document them on film so that I can use them for the purpose of giving lectures. The reason for the same surgeon doing both of the operations is to have things matched up perfectly. Think of it like a jigsaw puzzle. If I cut a piece out myself, I can put it back in exactly the right place. That is something I want to be able to demonstrate to other surgeons.’

‘He likes to tick all the boxes.’ Lizzie nodded. ‘For himself.’

‘I’m not a jigsaw puzzle,’ Misty said. ‘I’m … me.’

Jack moved back to the bed. He loosened his tie a little more. He even undid the top button of his shirt. ‘You are, indeed,’ he told Misty. ‘And I’m Dr Jack. How are you feeling?’

Misty said nothing. Was it too general a question for a child? The look he was receiving made him feel as though it had been a stupid question. And maybe it was. Misty’s arm was heavily bandaged and plastic tubes snaked from under the covers to the dialysis machine that was whirring quietly as it did its job to make sure her blood was as clean as possible before tomorrow’s surgery. She was pale and thin and was probably quite used to feeling a lot less than well.

He tried again. ‘Does anything hurt?’

‘No.’

‘Are you worried about the operation?’

‘No. The nurse showed me all about it with the teddy bear. And Mummy says you and Dr Dave are going to take the best care of me.’