200 Harley Street. Lynne Marshall

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wouldn’t have done it, but, then, I possibly go overboard on subtle and natural, but he hasn’t gone over the top. There’s a lot of swelling and a lot of bruising but when that all settles, I think it will be far better than you’re now expecting.’

      Not for the first time, Leo surprised her—he didn’t criticise the other surgeon. If anything, he spoke well of his work and, as promised, he didn’t take Francesca on a guilt trip, he just slowly calmed the terrified woman down.

      ‘What about the infection?’ Francesca asked.

      ‘Unfortunate,’ Leo said, ‘but it happens sometimes …’ He took a swab. ‘I want to have a listen to your chest …’ He took her pulse for quite a long time and then looked at Lizzie. ‘Actually, could you help Francesca into a gown? I’d like to examine her properly.’

      ‘Leo …’ Francesca shook her head to decline but Leo was adamant.

      ‘I’m not arguing with you again, Francesca. I want to examine you and I’ll be honest—I think you need a couple of days in hospital.’ When Francesca started to argue Leo pushed on. ‘My only criticism, and this isn’t just Geoff, but people seem to think surgery like this is a day procedure.’

      ‘Leo, I don’t want to go to hospital. I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.’

      He would not be swayed. Buzzing through to Gwen, he asked her to order a private ambulance for the short trip to Kate’s as, behind a curtain, Lizzie helped Francesca into a gown and onto the examination table.

      ‘I’m a stupid old fool,’ Francesca said, as Lizzie pulled off her boots, but a very agile Francesca needed no help swinging her legs up.

      ‘I think you’re amazing,’ Lizzie admitted.

      ‘You just say that to be kind.’

      ‘No.’ Lizzie shook her head, forgetting that Leo was listening as she did her best to put Francesca at ease. ‘Even before my mum got ill, my parents were always acting older than they were—always set in their ways. My father won’t even go for a walk. At least you do things,’ Lizzie said. ‘You live your life and make mistakes …’ She said it so nicely and gently that even Francesca smiled. ‘I think you’re glamorous and wonderful and everything I’d like to be when I’m—’

      ‘Careful!’ came Francesca’s friendly warning.

      ‘Fifty-two,’ Lizzie said, and both women laughed.

      ‘What’s wrong with your mum?’ Francesca asked, but just as Lizzie went to answer, the other woman started to cough. ‘Here,’ Lizzie said, ‘let me help you sit up.’

      ‘I can’t …’ Francesca was struggling to get in air.

      And just at the moment Lizzie thought that she had a handle on her job and knew more or less what to expect, she was in the middle of an emergency. ‘Leo …’

      He must have heard the concern in Lizzie’s voice because he was behind the curtain in an instant.

      ‘It’s okay, Francesca,’ he said immediately, and he sounded so calm that for a second Lizzie wondered if he’d actually noticed that Francesca’s lips were blue and her skin a deathly grey.

      ‘I can’t breathe …’ Francesca gasped.

      ‘I know,’ Leo said, his fingers taking the pulse on her neck as his other hand reached for his stethoscope. ‘Don’t try and speak. Just nod or shake your head. Do you have pain?’ Leo asked.

      She shook her head. ‘Leo …’

      ‘Press the intercom,’ Leo said once Lizzie had put on a probe to read Francesca’s oxygen levels—and they were dire. ‘Gwen!’ His voice was calm and clipped. ‘Call 999 and see who else is around.’

      Lizzie slipped an oxygen mask on Francesca as Leo inserted an IV. Despite his calm demeanour, Lizzie could see the flare of worry in his eyes as more and more it looked as if Francesca was suffering from a potentially fatal pulmonary embolism—a complication that sometimes happened after surgery when a clot deep in the veins of the leg flicked off and travelled to the lung.

      ‘What have we got?’ Mitchell Cooper, an American surgeon who Lizzie had had few dealings with, came in with the crash trolley and set to work pulling up emergency drugs.

      ‘Query PE in a seventy-two-year-old, three days post facelift and fillers. The wound looks infected …’

      ‘When was she last seen?’ Mitchell glanced up from the syringe he was filling.

      ‘I’m not sure.’ Lizzie saw Mitchell frown at Leo’s irregular response because post-operative care was taken very seriously at the Hunter Clinic.

      ‘What do you mean, you’re not sure when she was last seen?’ Mitchell demanded—he clearly had no qualms questioning Leo about something as serious as this.

      ‘I didn’t do the surgery,’ Leo said.

      But he was dealing with the consequences of it.

      Still, they didn’t think of that now, they just concentrated on keeping Francesca as comfortable as possible until the ambulance arrived. Francesca was gripping tightly onto Leo’s hand as she struggled to get air in. ‘It’s okay, Francesca.’ He just kept saying it over and over and from the way she was holding onto him, it was clearly helping. ‘The ambulance is here.’

      The paramedics were skilled and calm and soon had her on the stretcher.

      ‘Who do you want me to contact?’ Leo asked Francesca. ‘Your niece?’

      ‘No.’ An exhausted Francesca shook her head, still determined that no one must ever find out.

      ‘Francesca, your family need to know what’s happening. This could be serious. Amelia would want to know that you were ill. It would be awful not to know …’ Lizzie looked up as Leo fell silent, surprised because he seemed to be struggling, but he soon regained his composure. ‘You must let me tell her.’

      Clearly Francesca trusted Leo because she gave a weary nod.

      ‘Can you text Amelia’s details to me?’ Leo looked over at Lizzie. ‘I’ll call her when we get to the hospital.’

      ‘You’re going with Francesca?’ Mitchell checked.

      ‘Of course,’ Leo said. ‘She’s my patient.’

      Lizzie was shaken and terribly worried for Francesca. She turned to see Ethan and Rafael, who had just come back from the Lighthouse Hospital to the sight of a blue light ambulance leaving the clinic, and Mitchell quickly brought them up to speed.

      ‘Didn’t Leo do a full facelift on her just last year?’ Rafael asked, and Mitchell nodded.

      ‘Leo didn’t do the surgery this time.’

      ‘He refused to,’ Lizzie said.

      ‘Well, we all know what that means at times …’ Mitchell’s face was grim, in fact, all three surgeons seemed very concerned. ‘I’d

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