A Proposal to Remember Read online

  ‘Do all English midwives walk around in the dark, carrying bin liners?’

  ‘I was trying not to attract attention,’ she confided, and he gave a wry smile.

  ‘I think you need more practice.’

  ‘You might be right.’ She looked sorrowfully at her torn jeans. ‘They must have thought I had something exciting in my bin bag.’

  ‘And have you?’

  ‘Well, I haven’t robbed a bank, if that’s what you mean.’ She chuckled and hoisted the bag towards her, twisting the neck so that the contents were safe. ‘Actually, I’m on my way to see a patient. So, if you’re sure your face is all right, I suppose this is where we say goodbye.’

  No way!

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said immediately. ‘There’s no way I should be allowed to walk these streets on my own. It’s not safe.’

  She looked up at him, her cheeks dimpling. ‘You need my protection?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ His voice was husky and he saw her breath catch in her throat.

  ‘You’re at least six foot three and you’ve got more muscles than I’ve ever seen on one body,’ she pointed out, appreciation in her eyes as they wandered over his broad shoulders. ‘You tackled those guys without a second thought and you certainly don’t look like a man who’s afraid of much.’

  Up until five minutes ago he would have agreed with her, but since the moment she’d thrown him to the floor everything had changed.

  ‘I’m afraid of never seeing you again.’

  The only sound was the soft whisper of snow as it floated past her stunned face and settled on the black wool jacket she was wearing.

  When she finally spoke her voice was shaky. ‘I suppose I’m meant to say that you’re being ridiculous.’

  He stepped closer to her, aware of just how delicate she was. Suddenly he felt fiercely protective. ‘Say it, then.’

  She stared up at him and he could see that she’d stopped breathing. ‘I—I can’t.’ A look of confusion crossed her face. ‘Oh, help! What are you doing to me?’

  Their eyes held, the heat and tension between them almost melting the snow.

  Without shifting his gaze, Carlo held out a hand, and after endless seconds she stepped towards him and took it.

  He pulled her against him and stroked her snowy dark hair away from her face, thinking how beautiful she was.

  She stared up at him and he could see her breathing quicken. ‘I—This is crazy. I really ought to be going…’

  ‘Me, too. Do you think we should kiss each other goodbye?’ He was only a breath away from touching her mouth with his when she dipped her head and gave him a gentle push.

  ‘What is it that you do to me? I don’t behave like this! I don’t even know you.’

  Carlo stared down at her thoughtfully, a warm feeling spreading through his body.

  He never met people who didn’t know him.

  In Italy, everyone knew him. His picture appeared regularly in the newspapers and gossip columns and he hated it. He hated being public property.

  But to this girl he was a stranger and it was a totally novel experience.

  ‘Everyone is a stranger the first time you meet them,’ he pointed out gently, and she gave him a half-smile that betrayed her confusion.

  ‘That’s true, I suppose, but I don’t usually kiss men I’ve only known for five minutes.’

  ‘So I’ll hang around until you’ve known me for longer,’ Carlo said, and she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

  ‘Are you always this persistent?’

  No. He never usually needed to be. He was one of the richest men in Italy and he was usually the one tactfully keeping women at a distance.

  ‘Look, why don’t we go somewhere warm and grab a coffee or something?’

  ‘I can’t. At least, not right now.’ She glanced at her watch and pulled a face. ‘There’s somewhere I have to be and I don’t want to be too late. It’s not the best of places in the middle of the day, but at night it’s horrid. I meant to go earlier but I had to stay late at the hospital. I need to go and do my visit and you ought to go home and get some ice on your cheek,’ she said, touching it with gentle fingers, guilt in her eyes. ‘I’m really, really sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight.’

  ‘Forget it.’ Carlo gave a lopsided smile, wondering where all his smooth chat-up lines had gone when he needed them. He could think of a dozen things to say to her in Italian but none at all in English. ‘Just remind me never to get on the wrong side of you.’

  She lifted an arm and pretended to flex her biceps. ‘Scary, that’s me.’

  Carlo looked deep into those green eyes and decided that she definitely was scary, but not for any of the reasons she imagined.

  The scariest thing of all was that even though he’d only known her for five minutes, there was no way he was letting this woman out of his sight. Part of him knew that he should walk away from her. He was involved in something nasty and he certainly didn’t want her dragged into it. But he wasn’t prepared to let her go even for a moment. He was going to see where this led and deal with the consequences later.

  ‘All right, if you won’t come with me then I’ll have to come with you on your call, and then we can both put ice on my face together.’

  As a pick-up line it was novel, but he was past caring.

  He was a desperate man.

  If she turned and walked away, he’d have to consider kidnapping her.

  ‘You can’t come with me on my call.’ She clutched the bin bag more tightly. ‘It’s a professional visit. I can’t just take a man I picked up on the street.’

  ‘I picked you up,’ he pointed out, and she rolled her eyes.

  ‘Details. Details.’

  He gave a lopsided smile. ‘Would it help if I confessed that I’m an obstetrician?’

  Her eyes widened in disbelief and she started to laugh.

  He frowned at her. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘I’m just trying to imagine any of the obstetricians I know fighting like you did.’ She shook her head slightly, still laughing. ‘I’m failing dismally. They’re all very puny and academic. They’d have trouble wrestling with a microscope.’

  He lifted an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. ‘You don’t think I’m academic?’

  ‘You mean you’ve got all that muscle and a brain?’ She batted her eyelids and he grinned appreciatively.

  ‘I certainly have.’ He adored her sense of humour. ‘So, now do you believe I’m an obstetrician?’

  ‘No.’ Her cheeks were rosy from the cold. ‘I’ve worked with loads of obstetricians and none of them look like you.’

  Was that good or bad?

  ‘So what’s wrong with me?’

  Her smile faded and he saw the uncertainty in her eyes, and something else that had a serious effect on the fit of his jeans. ‘Oh, there’s nothing wrong with you at all. That’s what I mean.’

  His blood heated and he had to stop himself grabbing her again. ‘Well, until you see me in action you’re just going to have to take my word for it. So, can I come?’

  She tipped her head to one side. ‘Well, if you’re truly an obstetrician, then tell me where you work.’

  ‘I’m doing a locum job at St Catherine’s from tomorrow.’

  Using a false surname that only he, his security team and the most senior member of the hospital were aware of.

  Her eyes widened. ‘That’s spooky! I work there, too.’

  Did she, now? That was the best news he’d had for months.

  ‘Which definitely means I can come on your visit,’ he said smoothly. ‘We’re colleagues. And after that I’m walking you home and we can heal each other’s bruises.’

  Her lips parted slightly and he held his breath. If she said no, he was in big trouble.

  ‘I—I don’t know…’

  The wary look was back and he gave her a smile that he hoped was non-threatening.

  ‘Look, I know this was an unconventional meeting, but you don’
t need to be scared of me. If I step out of line you can always black my other eye.’

  Maybe he was playing dirty by appealing to her conscience but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to let her walk out of his life.

  ‘All right.’ She hauled the bag onto her shoulder and jerked her head towards a high-rise building in the next street. ‘Come with me to see Kelly and then we’ll go back to my place and sort your face out. It’s the least I can do after having tried to half kill you.’

  Resisting the impulse to punch the air in triumph, Carlo shortened his stride to match hers and followed her up seemingly endless flight of soulless concrete steps that intersected the flats.

  He glanced around with a deepening frown.

  No wonder she didn’t like coming here at night. The place was menacing and rough. Definitely not somewhere to be after dark. Especially for a woman on her own. The walls were covered in graffiti, there were smashed windows and boarded-up doors and, even this close to Christmas, there was very little evidence of festive cheer.

  The girl came to a halt in front of a door, tugged the woollen hat back on her head and stuffed her hair back underneath it.

  ‘All part of the disguise.’ She tossed him a smile that made his whole body ache, and tapped on the door.

  ‘Kelly?’ She leaned closer to the door. ‘Kelly, it’s Zan. Let me in.’

  Zan? Carlo blinked in surprise.

  What sort of a name was Zan?

  He was still trying to work it out when the door jerked open and a burly man stood there.

  If ever a man was looking for a fight it was this one, and instinctively Carlo straightened his shoulders and prepared himself for trouble.

  What the hell was the girl doing in a place like this? This certainly wasn’t his idea of midwifery.

  ‘Hi, Mike.’ Zan didn’t seem remotely nervous. Instead, she just gave the man the same warm smile she’d used on him earlier and peeped round him into the flat. ‘Can I see Kelly? I brought some stuff…’

  She jiggled the black bin back temptingly and Mike’s face darkened.

  ‘We ain’t taking no charity!’

  Zan shook her head. ‘Of course you’re not. It isn’t charity,’ she said easily, her tone relaxed and friendly. ‘Mothers swap clothes all the time. Someone I look after was having a clear-out—I just thought you might find it useful, but I can offer it to someone else if you prefer…’

  Mike glowered at her and then opened the door wider. ‘And while we’re at it Kelly ain’t going to hospital, so don’t even think about suggesting it.’ He looked over her shoulder and his eyes narrowed as they fixed on Carlo. He looked at him man to man, his eyes resting on the width of Carlo’s shoulders. ‘Who’s he?’

  Zan opened her mouth but Carlo spoke first.

  ‘I’m a doctor. Carlo Bennett.’

  He almost stumbled over the surname, because it wasn’t his and he wasn’t used to it yet, but it was the name that everyone had agreed he should use while he was hiding out in London. As a qualified surgeon he was actually entitled to call himself Mr, but he didn’t think this was the time to worry about the finer points of titles. ‘I’m going to be working in this area and Zan said I could come with her on some visits.’

  Aware that Zan was staring at him, Carlo gave the other man a friendly smile and reached out a hand.

  There was a moment’s hesitation and then Mike shook it briefly, but his expression was still unfriendly.

  ‘You don’t look English and you don’t sound English.’

  ‘Part Italian,’ Carlo lied smoothly, denying some of his heritage in the interests of discretion. Mike pulled a face, leaving no one in any doubt of what he thought of foreign doctors.

  ‘Well, you can come in as you’re here, but you might as well know that I hate doctors and I’m not having one of them near my woman. Zan’s the only one I’ll let look at her.’

  ‘No problem.’ Careful to be non-confrontational, Carlo strolled into the flat after Zan, trying not to show his shock as they walked into the tiny sitting room.

  The room was filthy and stacked high with old newspapers and half-eaten plates of food. In the middle of the carpet a German shepherd dog lay with its head on one paw, eyes fixed warily on Carlo.

  The place was damp and freezing, and in the corner was a thin wisp of a girl with a rounded stomach and skinny legs.

  ‘Hi, Kelly.’ Clearing a space on the sofa, Zan sat down and opened the bin bag. ‘How are you feeling?’

  Kelly glanced nervously at Mike, who gave a nod. ‘I’m doing OK,’ she said in a low voice, ‘but I’m pretty tired. Well, very tired, actually.’

  And he would have bet half his fortune that she was anaemic, Carlo thought, running a professional eye over the patient and her surroundings. Judging from the remains of the food on the plate, she wasn’t eating properly.

  ‘I think it’s possible that you may be anaemic,’ Zan was saying as she delved into the bag for a blood-pressure cuff. ‘That basically means that your blood isn’t carrying enough oxygen. It can happen very easily when you’re pregnant, especially if you don’t eat properly.’

  Carlo blinked with admiration. So she’d homed in on the same problem immediately.

  She checked Kelly’s blood pressure and then glanced at Mike. ‘I really want to take a blood sample, Mike.’

  ‘No way.’ His tone was unfriendly. ‘I’m not having you sticking needles in her. Just do what you have to do and leave.’

  Zan’s expression was understanding. ‘I’m just trying to help her, Mike. She’s thirty-four weeks pregnant. If she is anaemic then that could be the reason she’s so tired, and we need to get it sorted out before she has the baby. I want to check the iron levels in her blood.’

  ‘No needles.’ Mike moved towards Zan and Carlo took a step forward, ready to intervene.

  No way was that thug going any nearer to Zan.

  ‘If you’ve got iron in your bag then just give it to her,’ Carlo said smoothly, and three pairs of eyes turned to look at him.

  ‘There’s a strong chance that you are anaemic, and obviously we’d like to check that out.’ He spoke directly to Kelly. ‘But if you’d rather we didn’t then the next best thing is to just give you the iron.’

  ‘Will it hurt the baby?’

  ‘It could hurt you if you don’t have it,’ Carlo said gently. ‘Being pregnant and giving birth to a child place huge demands on your body. We need to correct it or you could have problems during your delivery and you’ll be exhausted afterwards. When you come into the hospital we—’

  ‘She ain’t coming into the hospital!’ Mike growled, and Zan cleared her throat.

  ‘Don’t let’s worry about that now. You’ve got my number, and you know that I’ll deliver Kelly any time you want me to, anywhere you want me to, but we really do need her to take some iron.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of tablets. ‘Will you take one a day for me?’

  Kelly glanced at Mike for approval before taking the bottle, and he gave a brief nod.

  ‘And now can I just check the position of the baby?’

  ‘Not with him in the room.’ Mike glared at Carlo, who strolled towards the living-room door immediately.

  ‘I’ll wait in the hallway.’

  Whatever had happened to the man to make him so suspicious?

  Five minutes later Zan called him back in.

  Her eyes were troubled as they met his. ‘I don’t think the baby is growing quite as fast as it should—She’s small for thirty-four weeks.’

  Carlo lifted his eyes to Mike. ‘Can I examine her?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Mike, please?’ Zan’s voice was soft and reassuring and Mike hesitated, his jaw set.

  Finally he nodded. ‘All right.’ He glared at Carlo. ‘But I’m watching you.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ Carlo moved his hands skilfully over the mother’s abdomen, thinking that he’d never seen such a half-starved waif in his life. Normally he dealt with the pamp
ered wives of the hideously wealthy, and the contrast was extreme. As he examined the girl he realised just how bored he’d become, working in his world-famous Women’s Unit in Milan. The case he was seeing now presented so much more of a challenge, both medically and socially.

  ‘Well?’

  Mike was looking at him threateningly and Carlo picked up the tape measure that Zan had used and measured Kelly from the top of the bump to her pelvic bone. The measurement was supposed to correlate roughly to the number of weeks of pregnancy, but in this case Zan was right. The baby seemed small.

  ‘Do you smoke?’

  Kelly shook her head, but her eyes slid nervously to Mike and Carlo deduced that the man probably smoked heavily and that she was therefore subjecting the baby to passive smoking.

  ‘The baby does seem slightly smaller than we would like,’ he said gently, talking directly to Kelly. ‘Ideally I’d like to get you to come to the hospital for a series of scans. Nothing scary. We just slide a clever device that’s basically a camera over your stomach and we’re able to measure the size of the baby’s head. That gives us an indication of what size the baby should be, and we can then take a look at the rest of him.’

  Kelly glanced at Mike, who shook his head.

  ‘She’s not going to hospital.’

  Carlo frowned. ‘But—’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Zan interrupted quickly, shooting Carlo a warning look. ‘But if you change your mind then come and see us any time. I brought you some clothes, Kelly.’

  She delved into the bin bag again and pulled out another bag full of tiny baby clothes, vests and a gorgeous blanket.

  Carlo’s eyes narrowed.

  If those clothes were second-hand then he was an Englishman.

  Kelly gave a gasp and her face suddenly shone like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

  ‘Someone was giving this away?’ She fingered one of the outfits in disbelief and Zan smiled.

  ‘They were no use to her.’

  Oh, sure.