wake up. But it didn’t take long for her to lose her flimsy faith. She was stung into speech by the sight of a syringe in his hand.
‘Are you sure all this is necessary?’
‘Yes.’ He glanced over his shoulder too briefly to make eye contact.
She had only wanted him to explain what he was doing. He had checked Molly’s vital signs, listened to her chest, checked her pulse, her blood pressure, tapped her back, scrutinised her fingernails for the umpteenth time and shone a light into her eyes. And now she wanted to be with Molly, holding her…
Nell made her request the moment he straightened up.
Barbaro remained staring at Molly, waiting for signs of improvement, she guessed.
‘Not yet.’
‘When?’ But the powerful engines started up at that moment, drowning out her voice, and then the launch surged forward, fixing her in place. Nell waited until she judged it safe to move—
‘Sit down!’
The harsh command shunted ice through her veins. She speared a look of resentment at him, but at that moment the launch picked up speed, and as it thrust forward the prow lifted, tilting the deck at an extreme angle. Thrown off balance, she was forced to make a grab for one of the upright poles and cling on desperately.
Barbaro’s voice reached her over the roar of the engines. ‘Police launches and ambulances break the speed limits inside the city and we’ll be going even faster when we reach the Grand Canal. Get back to your seat and sit down now. It isn’t safe to stand up.’
Tears of frustration welled in Nell’s eyes. ‘You might have warned me.’ But Barbaro had already turned back to tend to Molly. She tried to get back to her seat, but the launch hit another boat’s wake and lurched unexpectedly.
Nell finally staggered back to her seat, where the weight of emotion pinned her in place. Terror made her want to cry, to sob hysterically and shout out: why? Why Molly? The emotion building in her throat, in her chest was nearly choking her. She guessed that everyone on board would be used to emotional incontinence—all the more reason not to give way to it. She would hold herself in check—do whatever it took not to distract them from treating Molly. Her chest was heaving convulsively, but she made herself calm down. Then at last Dr Barbaro stood back and she could see Molly clearly.
Nell paled. There were so many tubes and wires connected to Molly’s tiny frame. She stared up fearfully, trying to read Luca Barbaro’s face, his eyes…She was so hungry for information. Why didn’t he say something to her?
‘Can I sit with Molly now?’ Her voice was small. ‘Can I hold her?’
‘You might dislodge the drip.’
The drip? She hadn’t noticed it before, but now she did. It was suspended above Molly like an abomination. ‘I wouldn’t—’ Nell’s throat seemed to be caught in a vice. ‘Does she need that?’
‘It’s used for rehydration, and we’re giving antibiotics too, as a precaution.’
Nell frowned. ‘You don’t know what’s wrong with my daughter but you’re pumping her full of drugs?’
‘I consider it necessary.’
‘And what’s that machine?’ She wanted to know. She wanted to know everything. She wanted to drive him, drive him hard. How else was she to find out what was going on? How else was she going to let him know she was there for Molly?
‘A nebuliser. It delivers the medicine in a fine mist so the patient can breathe it in without it disturbing them.’
‘Without it disturbing them?’ Nell shuddered as she stared at the mask on Molly’s face, the coarse green elastic binding her fine baby hair to her moist skin. The noise from the machine was enough to disturb anyone. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? Nothing was going to disturb Molly; nothing could disturb her while she was in this condition.
The sooner they arrived at the hospital the sooner she could breathe easily again, Nell realised. Or maybe not even then. Maybe this man was representative of the type of cold-hearted individual she was going to find there. Something inside her said, if she could just touch Molly, give her love…
‘I won’t disturb her, and I won’t pull anything out.’
She suffered his scrutiny in silence, holding herself together in the hope of passing his test.
‘All right,’ he agreed finally and, Nell guessed, reluctantly. ‘I’ll lift her onto your knee and then you can hold her while she inhales the medicine.’
‘Thank you.’ She was so grateful, all her feelings of hostility towards him started to fade. ‘Does she need the drip as well as the mask?’ Nell tried not to let her gaze linger on the fine tubing hanging from Molly’s slender arm. Molly had never needed a plaster to cover an abrasion in her whole life, let alone required a needle to be inserted in her arm…
‘It’s the most efficient way I know to administer antibiotics and rehydrate the body.’
The body? Nell gasped involuntarily.
‘Your daughter,’ he corrected himself tersely.
Had she got through to him? His dispassionate voice suggested otherwise. ‘The most efficient way you know? How can I be sure you know what you’re doing?’
‘You can’t. I’ll have to take her off you if you are going to get upset.’
‘Don’t threaten me! I’ve got no intention of breaking down, I can assure you,’ she managed coldly, staring into his eyes until he looked away. Then she drank in every nuance of Molly’s changed appearance. Rather than its usual porcelain perfection, Molly’s complexion was ashen and her lips were tinged with blue…like her nails. She looked up again. ‘I think it’s time you told me what’s going on.’
‘When I know I’ll tell you, and not before.’
He was not prepared to deliver a diagnosis that might be disproved once the child was admitted to hospital, where all the necessary tests could be carried out, nor was he accustomed to being harangued—let alone by some pixie-haired termagant with eyes like cobalt searchlights. He’d been looking forward to some hard-won down time when the call came through from Marco, the gondolier. He hadn’t had chance to eat or to drink all day, let alone take a shower, or shave. And his reward for a being a good citizen? A woman who scrutinised his every move as if he were a first-year med student!
If the child hadn’t been so sick he would have left her in the care of his very competent colleagues on board the ambulance. Then her mother could have driven them crazy with her questions. His focus was always on the people under his care. Relatives and friends were the province of his nurses. They acted as intermediaries for him, shielding him from distraction—just the way he liked it. If Nell Foster wanted more—well, she couldn’t have it.
But something made him wonder about her backstory. Why had Ms Foster stripped every bit of feminine allure from her appearance? There wasn’t a suggestion of femininity in her baggy clothes, and the spiky hair was a good indicator for her personality. Her face looked as though it had never seen make-up, and yet her
