‘Okay.’ Harry hung up the phone. He had to get better at that. Trusting others with his patients. Maybe it was because he’d spent so long being the visiting expert surgeon. It meant he couldn’t form relationships long enough with people to feel assured about their competencies.
Or maybe it was because of the way he’d been brought up. No child asked to be born to parents who weren’t the least bit interested in them. A child had been a necessity for the duke and duchess. Someone to carry on the family name. But that’s all he’d been. It had taken him a long time to realise that the relationship he had with his parents wasn’t entirely normal. Most kids who boarded did actually get to spend some time at home. But not Harry. It made forming relationships hard for him. He’d spent most of his childhood thinking he didn’t deserve love, and most of his wild teenage years looking for love wherever he could find it. Medicine had been his blessing. His focus. Surgery his ultimate goal. He’d managed to keep everything right on track until the death of his father had derailed one of his first surgeries.
He’d had to leave. It was unheard of for a son not to attend his father’s funeral. The gossip columns would have loved it. His mother had died years previously, so he was the only family left to make the arrangements. So, only two days after his first neonatal cardiac surgery, he’d had to travel home for the funeral.
He’d had to leave the tiny baby he’d wanted to watch like a hawk. And it had happened. The death. While he wasn’t there. His first experience of a child death review with his name as the surgeon. It was devastating for him, and had almost derailed his career. He would never know if something else could have been done to save that baby. None of them would. But it had left an indelible mark on Harry. One he couldn’t ever shake off, or forget.
These babies were his responsibility and he could never forget that. Working with a hundred different teams across a variety of continents was difficult for him. Being a visiting surgeon was hard.
Some weeks he didn’t even get to sleep in his own bed. Constantly moving from place to place—sometimes from country to country to perform his specialist kind of surgery. At first he’d liked it. Enjoyed it even.
But constantly working with different staff was wearing. He’d never considered it before, but the thought of having his own team—a team that he would train by himself and he could trust—had started to play on his mind.
He could also get to know all the staff who worked in NICU and Paeds and perhaps even have a little confidence in the people around him. He could actually start to get a life again—or even get to spend some time in his own bed, in his own home. Now that would really be a miracle.
He walked back over, the decision already made in his head. ‘Okay, Esther. You’re coming home with me.’
‘What?’ She looked entirely stunned.
He shrugged. ‘This is easy. You have two choices. You let Rob admit you, or you let me take you home and keep an eye on you overnight.’
She opened her mouth to speak but he kept talking.
‘I know what’s happened. I know the history. I’m not going to tell anyone else, and you don’t need to tell anyone you stayed with me. If you’re unwell during the night I can bring you back in.’
The stunned look hadn’t changed. Harry’s conscience was tugging at heartstrings he didn’t even know he had. But every cell in his body told him this was the right thing to do.
Rob shot him a glance and a nod. He folded his arms across his chest. ‘Sounds good to me, but it’s entirely your choice, Esther. I think you need supervision for at least the next eight hours. Where you spend them is up to you.’
She shot them both a look of complete exasperation. ‘Fine, fine.’ She threw up her hands. ‘Just let me go and get changed.’
She turned and walked off to the female changing room. Harry went into the other changing room and stowed his white coat and pulled out his jacket. He was still waiting to be allocated an office. Hospital space was always tight, so until then, he was happy to have somewhere safe to leave his things.
As he pulled his car keys from his trouser pocket he saw Esther standing at the exit to A&E. Her head was turning from side to side as if she were contemplating the option to run. The weather had turned and rain was bucketing down.
He moved outside, his shoulder brushing against hers. The sun was setting in the sky, sending purple streaks above them.
Harry didn’t hesitate. ‘Your place or mine?’
He could see something flit across her face. ‘Why are you doing this?’ Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
He’d asked himself the same question. ‘Because I should,’ he said simply. ‘It’s the right thing to do.’
There was a long pause, then Esther’s shoulders sagged a little, just like they had earlier, as if she’d accepted that answer. ‘It will take too long to get to mine. You must be tired. I’m sure you stay closer.’ She was saying the words but he could see something else in her eyes. Maybe she didn’t want him to see where she lived?
‘You’re sure about this?’ she repeated, her hand gripping tightly to the handle of her bag.
‘I’m sure. Come on.’ He started walking across the car park, pressing the buttons on his remote to open the doors. ‘Relax,’ he laughed over his shoulder. ‘You’re acting like I’m kidnapping you. Rob knows I’ve taken you home. If you’re never seen again, he’ll send the police after me.’
‘Oh, reassure me, why don’t you,’ she quipped back.
As they reached the car she stopped walking and looked at him, eyebrow slightly arched, as the rain thudded around them. ‘Really?’
He shrugged. ‘What? Excessive?’
She opened the door to the dark blue Aston Martin and climbed in. As he slid in beside her she shook her head. ‘No, excessive would have been a royal carriage. And at this point in the day, I’d go home in anything.’
She leaned back into the seat. ‘Should I call you James Bond, instead of Duke?’
He smiled at her teasing. ‘Harry will be fine, thanks.’ He started the engine. ‘I think I told you before I’m not far from here. Where do you live?’
‘Dagenham, not the same as you in Belgravia.’ The edges of her lips curled upwards.
He gave a nod and pulled out of the car park. No wonder she was tired. The tube between the Queen Victoria and Dagenham would add almost an hour each way onto her journey every day.
He waited until they were in the traffic before he glanced towards her. ‘So, how come you work so much?’
Her eyes were already halfway closed. She let out a sigh. ‘My mum needs some help back home. She’s had cancer and although she’s in remission the chemo and radiotherapy meant she’s never got back to full fitness and can’t get back to work.’ She turned her head. ‘I need to cover the mortgage. It’s only got a couple of years left. I can do it.’
The words came out in a stream and he knew if she hadn’t been half as exhausted she probably wouldn’t have told him any of this.
His head was immediately filled with a barrage of questions that it wasn’t good manners to ask. At least now he understood. She had a real reason to work every hour there was. She obviously felt responsible for her mum.
Something twisted in his gut. Even those few words let him know that Esther and her mother had a real bond, a real connection. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He’d never known what that felt like. His parents had always been like distant ornaments sitting on a grand mantelpiece.
He’d spent more happy years at boarding school, and at university, than he ever had being back in their grand estate. Taking ownership of the Belgravia town house had felt like a huge sigh of relief that he wouldn’t be expected to be under the same roof as them for any length of time.
Esther’s eyes were fully closed and her breathing steady. She was fast asleep and they’d barely been in the car a few minutes.
Her dark hair was coming loose from its braid and for a few moments his eyes fixated on her long dark lashes. How had he not really noticed them before?
The car behind him beeped and he moved the Aston Martin quickly through the traffic, letting some quiet music play in the background as they drove.
Esther remained fast asleep. He could still see the edge of some of the rash at the bottom of her neck. The steroids should have kicked in a few hours before. Her reaction had obviously been a bit more serious than any one of them had realised.
By the time he’d pulled into the parking for his town house, his initial confidence had waned a little. He switched off the engine and walked around to her side of the car. The lift in the converted basement could take him right up to the top floor of the town house, where the bedrooms were.
He opened the door, and paused again to see if she would wake. Nothing. ‘Esther,’ he said gently. ‘I’m just going to pick you up.’
She murmured something in reply. It didn’t sound like a no, so he slid his arms under her and picked her up, grabbing her bag and closing the car door with his hip.
The lift took them upstairs in seconds and he flicked on a light with his elbow, and walked down the corridor towards one of the empty bedrooms in his house.
They were all beautifully decorated, fresh and light. He laid her down on top of one of the beds, then slid off her shoes. He didn’t want her to panic if she woke up, so when he closed the heavy curtains, he turned the bedside light on, setting it to dim.
The en suite bathroom was stocked with supplies. She could find anything she might need in here. Her jacket pocket jangled as he slid it from her shoulders. Of course. Her new antibiotics. He couldn’t let her go without them.