deserved to know how Carla was.
‘Go on,’ Bruno growled. ‘Out of my hospital. Now.’
‘Your hospital?’
‘Okay, it’s the Castlavarans’,’ Bruno admitted. ‘But there’s nothing we can do about that. We just have to make do with the scraps they leave us.’
He wasn’t wanted.
Well, he was. There was work for him to do, but Bruno was having none of it. ‘You’re no use to us dead on your feet. You know if there’s a need I’ll call you back.’
Bruno was right. He did need to sleep, but how could he head home and sleep after a day like today? He felt wired. Disoriented.
Seeing Anna had done that to him.
He’d promised to let her know.
He went to collect her phone number from Reception but then hesitated.
Anna was less than half a mile away, within the walls of the great castle that dominated the whole island.
She was with Victoir and his precious, urgent documents. Heaven knew what he’d have her sign. Would she even think about what consequences her signature could have over so much of the island?
He glanced out toward the castle walls, vast and imposing. Victoir wanted to turn the castle into apartments for the wealthy, but everyone knew the terms of Anna’s inheritance. Funds could only be used for her welfare or the upkeep of the castle. Luxury apartments… How could Victoir get away with that under the terms of the Trust? But if he could… Would Anna realise how much it would hurt the islanders?
Despite its generations of miserly owners, the castle still seemed the beating heart of Tovahna. For hundreds of years Tovahnans had lived within the shadow of its walls. Their forebears—Leo’s forebears—had fought for it.
He’d seen Victoir’s plans. What they proposed was tearing down sections of the wall to insert massive plate-glass windows, so those lucky enough to afford to stay here could see the islanders going about their business. Victoir knew his market. He wanted the world’s rich and famous to use this as a retreat, and quaint island life—at a distance—was a marketing tool.
Did Anna know that poverty was one thing, rubbing the islanders’ noses in the riches of others was another?
He thought of Victoir’s face as Leo had agreed with Anna’s assertion that she was unfit to sign. He’d have the documents out again already, he thought. She might have already signed.
She was his patient. More, she was his colleague and she’d helped save his friend. He needed to see her.
‘It’s the least I can do,’ he muttered to himself.
And then he turned toward the castle.
He took the sea walk to the castle entrance. The walk itself did him good. It was early evening and the harbour was alive with fishing boats unloading, families coming down to help sort the catch, kids playing between lobster pots, cheerful banter between rival fishermen.
It was an idyllic setting. It disguised the grinding poverty underneath.
The idyll paled as he reached the castle walls. The massive stone fortress cast long shadows, and by the time he reached the vast oak and iron gates he felt cold.
Apartments. According to the Trust they’d have to be for Anna’s private pleasure. She was a doctor and a good one. He’d seen her immediate concern for Carla. How could Victoir’s grandiose plan ever give her pleasure?
And with that came another thought, maybe just as crazy. If medicine itself gave her pleasure then…then…
Don’t, he told himself. You’re here to protect her, make sure she’s healing. Don’t think past that.
First, face Victoir.
Islanders worked here—of course they did. They used the tradesmen’s entrance, though, but tonight Leo was damned if he’d use the tradesmen’s entrance.
He rang the bell and heard its sonorous tone echo behind the great stone walls. Few people rang this bell, he thought. Few people were welcome.
As he’d suspected, it was Victoir who answered the intercom. Victoir who controlled all intercourse between the castle and the world beyond. He’d been Yanni’s private secretary, but under Yanni’s indolent, indifferent rule his role had gone well past that.
‘Dr Aretino…’ Leo glanced up and saw cameras above his head. Of course. The castle’s massive moat was no longer used for defence, but defences were still there.
‘Victoir,’ he said, struggling to keep irritation from his voice. ‘I’m here to see Dr Raymond.’
‘She’s resting.’ His tone was curt, dismissive.
‘That’s why I’m here. She suffered concussion. She needs to be checked. I gather you refused the offer of our district nurse when you left the hospital. She needs at least one more check within the forty-eight-hour period after injury.
‘I can do that.’
The thought of Victoir checking made his skin crawl. It was all he could do to keep his voice even.
‘You’ll tell Dr Raymond I’m here to assess her medically and to give her an update on Dr Carla’s condition,’ he managed. ‘I need to hear from her personally.’
‘You’re not welcome.’
He should turn around and leave.
He didn’t.
‘You have my patient in there,’ he said, each word ringing loudly in the warm dusk. ‘I’m concerned about her head injury. I need to be assured that she’s well.’
‘You can take my word for it.’
‘That’s not enough. Unless you can produce a medical power of authority, I need to either speak to Dr Raymond myself or I’ll ask the local justice to demand access. You know I can do that, Victoir.’
The island justice would like nothing better than an excuse to demand entry to the castle and Victoir knew it. Leo heard the hesitation, the doubt, the weighing up of options.
Having the local authorities demanding entry would not suit Victoir’s sense of control.
‘She’s asleep,’ he said, and he sounded almost sulky.
‘Do you know how to differentiate between deep sleep and unconsciousness?’
Another pause. And then a heavy click and the vast gates started opening.
‘A quick check and you’re out of here,’ Victoir growled, but Leo didn’t bother to answer.
She
