Hot Single Docs: London's Calling: 200 Harley Street: The Proud Italian / 200 Harley Street: American Surgeon in London / 200 Harley Street: The Soldier Prince. Lynne Marshall
in London. When she not only had Ella to care for but she was starting work again as well. He wanted to help but between Abbie and the wonderful staff on the paediatric oncology ward there was nothing he could do there. It hadn’t gone down very well when he’d tried to lighten Abbie’s workload at the outpatient clinic this morning either.
And she didn’t seem to be making any effort to close the distance between them. She hadn’t even followed him into the room when he’d rushed in to see Ella yesterday, and ever since then it had felt like she was enclosed in a bubble. There but not there.
It was frustrating.
So was fighting London traffic to get to the Hunter Clinic by 5:00 p.m. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he could have gone home after this meeting because home was in Primrose Hill, about halfway between the Lighthouse and Harley Street, where the Hunter Clinic was located. But he had to get back to the Lighthouse as soon as he could because he still had patients to see, including Anoosheh. Apparently she was running a slight temperature and there was concern about potential infection. His entire day had run a little behind schedule thanks to taking on extra outpatients to ease the load on Abbie this morning.
Rafael desperately wanted to spend time with Ella, too. As long as possible. He wanted to give her the bear and see if it made her smile. If it didn’t, he would have to go looking for something else. What did make her smile these days? What did she like best of all to eat? What songs did she like to have sung to her?
There was so much he needed to find out.
And home wasn’t really home any more, anyway, was it? It hadn’t been, from the moment Abbie had walked away from that final, dreadful row, when he’d told her that if she took Ella to New York, their marriage was over.
Oh, her clothes still hung in the wardrobe and her books were still in the bookshelves. It was still the same gorgeous period-conversion apartment that they’d both fallen in love with and purchased in the week before their wedding. It still had the same fabulous view towards the Regent’s Canal and the bonus of the private courtyard garden that boasted a tree.
A tree they’d put a baby’s swing in to celebrate the six-month mark of Abbie’s pregnancy. A swing that had never been used. It had collected leaves in autumn and been filled with snow in the winter. Now it just hung there, too bright for a garden that had yet to blossom for spring. A cruel reminder of what could have been.
All these things taunted Rafael now so he spent as little time as possible in the apartment. He couldn’t stay there if their marriage was truly over. Maybe Abbie would want to live there with Ella. So that she could use the swing...
‘This is fine.’ Rafael rapped on the glass partition to alert the cab driver. ‘I can walk from here.’
Giving the driver a generous tip, Rafael took his briefcase and umbrella and strode down Harley Street, his long coat flapping. He should button it up to protect his suit because the leaden sky looked as if it could open at any moment but he was in too much of a hurry. The usual reverence the old buildings in this street instilled was gone, too. He didn’t even glance at any of the brass plaques that advertised the famous medical people who had once worked in these fabulous old buildings.
The facade of the Hunter Clinic, at 200 Harley Street, blended seamlessly with its historic neighbours but the interior made it look more like an exclusive hotel than a clinic. The heels of his Italian shoes tapped on a polished marble floor as Rafael marched through the huge reception area, past the inviting white sofas bathed in soft light from the table lamps beside them.
Only Helen, the senior receptionist, was on duty at the moment. In her late forties, Helen was always immaculately groomed and conveyed just the sort of welcome the clinic wanted. Capable, calm and compassionate. Weren’t those words in the clinic’s mission statement somewhere?
‘Mr de Luca.’ Helen’s smile held no disapproval of the fact that he was nearly ten minutes late. ‘How lovely that you could make it. They’re all ready for you in Leo’s office.’
Leo’s office? They were all ready for him?
What the hell was going on here?
Leo was the older of the two brothers—sons of the celebrated plastic surgeon, James Hunter. Rafael had never delved too deeply into the scandal that had surrounded James’s death. He only knew that it was through the tireless efforts of Leo that the clinic had survived and the cloud had been lifted from the Hunter name. He also knew that a huge rift had appeared between the brothers when Ethan had joined the army and left Leo to fight alone to save the clinic, but that was in the past, wasn’t it?
Ethan was back. And Leo had finally settled for one woman.
These were happier times for the Hunter brothers. So why weren’t they looking happy right now?
And what, in nome di dio, was Abbie doing here?
She looked pale. Frightened, almost. Rafael hadn’t seen her look like this since that terrible time when they had been waiting for the first results to find out what was wrong with their tiny baby. What had Leo and Ethan said or done to make her look like this now?
How dared they?
The need to protect Abbie was sudden and fierce. Rafael dropped his briefcase and umbrella on the nearest chair but he didn’t sit down. He didn’t take his coat off. Instead, he stepped behind Abbie’s chair and gripped the back of the seat.
‘What’s going on?’ he snapped.
Had they fired her? Because she couldn’t give the kind of focussed dedication to her job that she’d been known for before she’d become a mother?
Before she’d become his wife?
Surely not. Everyone here at the clinic, especially these brothers, had done all they could to support the de Luca family through the crisis. They’d given Abbie unlimited paid leave. Helped enormously with the logistical details and appalling expenses that Ella’s treatment in the States had engendered.
He shouldn’t have let them be so involved. This was his family.
He would look after them.
No matter if Abbie had been fired. He could support them. All of them. He would protect them. With his life, if necessary.
The Hunter brothers exchanged a glance. It was Leo who spoke.
‘Sit down, Rafael. Take your coat off for a minute. This won’t take long.’
‘I do not want to sit down.’ The anger was building rapidly. ‘I want to know what you’ve said to my wife to make her look so upset.’
He heard Abbie’s sharp intake of breath at his tone. Or was it the way he’d referred to her as his ‘wife’—as if she were some kind of possession?
Rafael closed his eyes and took a deep, inward breath as he deliberately dialled down his anger. Whatever was going on, becoming too passionate about it would only make things worse. Hadn’t he learned that lesson already?
Towering over everybody else in this room wasn’t going to help anything either.
Opening his eyes again, Rafael inclined his head in acquiescence that something clearly needed to be dealt with and he moved to lower his body into the empty seat beside Abbie.
He took a sideways glance at her, still concerned by how pale she looked, but Abbie was staring down at her hands. He wanted her to look at him so that he could send her a silent message that everything would be all right. He would deal with whatever it was that had prompted their summons into this office.
There was a beat of silence in the room and then Ethan cleared his throat.
‘We asked you both to come in this afternoon,’ he said into the silence, ‘because an issue has been brought to our attention that we thought needed urgent resolution. A complaint has been made—’
‘Che cosa?’ Rafael’s gaze jerked to meet Ethan’s. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘It’s