hours on Casey’s bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to inhale his sweet pudgy scent, imagining those reddish curls on the pillow beside her, whispering stories into the air and praying he could hear…
‘Why?’ Harry asked again, and Isla took a deep breath, swallowed the tears that were always close and stood up. ‘Why do you have to go to work?’
‘Because I do, Harry.’
Not the best answer, but the best she could do today.
‘Will it be fun?’ Luke poured himself a glass of orange juice, and managed to get more on the table than in his glass. ‘Working with Dad?’
‘I guess, though I’m sure we’ll both be so busy that we’ll hardly see each other.’
Who was she kidding?
Loading up the dishwasher, not for the first time Isla questioned the wisdom of going to work alongside Sav, especially given the fact that in a few short weeks their marriage might be over, but it had been the only way to get back into nursing. There may well be an impossible shortage of nurses, but nothing had been done to make the shifts more parent-friendly. OK, there was a crèche at the hospital, but because Luke and Harry were way past that now, it didn’t help matters for Isla. Late shifts were out of the question—she could hardly land Louise with two boisterous twins for three evenings a week, and as for night shifts, with the amount of times Sav was called to the hospital in the small hours, it quite simply didn’t even merit a mention.
The emergency room had been the only department willing to offer her three early shifts, and, no doubt, the fact her husband was the consultant there had been an influencing factor. Still, Isla had consoled herself when she had accepted the job, there was a new hospital opening up nearby in a few weeks. Every time they drove past the once massive empty field, another wing seemed to have been put on. They were up to concreting the ambulance bay and according to the local paper they would be recruiting staff within a month. Once her foot was back in the door, once she was earning a wage and had her confidence back, she could put in an application there.
‘OK, I’m off.’ Kissing the boys, Isla forced another bright smile. ‘Dad’s just gone to get dressed and then he’ll be down.’
‘Mum?’ Harry’s single word stopped her in her tracks. She could almost hear the fear behind it, see the confusion in his guarded eyes as Isla threw her mental clock in the bin and walked back over to him. ‘Will it be fun? For Dad, I mean. Do you think you going to work with him will make him happier?’
Oh, God. If Sav heard this it would kill him, Isla thought with a stab of pain that was physical. He tried so hard to hide it, tried so hard to paint on a smile when the kids were around, but seeing the torture, the utter angst in Harry’s eyes only confirmed to Isla that change, however hard it might be at the time, was definitely needed.
This was affecting them all.
‘You make Daddy happy,’ Isla said softly. ‘You and Luke.’
‘And you!’ Luke chimed in, but there was a tiny wobble in his voice that didn’t bear thinking about.
‘Come on.’ Isla smiled. ‘Finish up your breakfast and then you can brush your teeth.’
Darting up the stairs and into the bedroom, she hovered by the bathroom door, watching as Sav ran the electric razor over his morning shadow, a dark towel hung low around his hips, the en suite still steamed up from his prolonged shower earlier. That delicious male scent hung in the air. It still turned her to jelly, and for an indulgent moment she watched the impossibly wide shoulders tapering into lean hips, the dark olive skin, swarthy yet soft, scarcely able to fathom that even after nine years of marriage, even after all they had been through, were still going through, just a glimpse of him in an unguarded moment could have this sort of impact on her.
‘Are you going now?’
Blushing, realizing she’d been caught staring, Isla nodded.
‘The boys are just finishing their breakfast, their clothes and schoolbags are—’
‘We’ll manage fine.’
‘I know.’ She gave a tiny shrug. ‘Luke seems fine, Harry’s a bit—’
‘He’ll be OK,’ Sav broke in again. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘I am worried, though, Sav. Harry’s upset, not just about me working—’
‘Harry’s got too much Mediterranean blood in his veins for his own good.’ Again Sav halted her. ‘He wants his mother home in the kitchen, worrying about him all day long.’
She knew he’d meant it as a joke. Sav was fiercely proud of his heritage, adored Spain, missed it more than he ever let on, knowing Isla felt guilty for all he had given up to marry her. But even if it had been a joke, there was a semblance of truth behind it, and Isla chose to pursue it.
‘What about you, Sav?’
She watched his shoulders stiffen slightly, waited as he splashed some aftershave into his hands and slapped it on before slowly turning around to face her.
‘I’d rather you were at home, too.’ He stared directly at her, dark eyes boring into her, honesty behind every word. ‘But not because I’m a chauvinist, Isla.’
‘Then why?’
‘You’re going to be late.’
‘Sav, please, tell me—’
‘Isla, it’s your first day. If you’re really serious about going back to work then now isn’t the time for an in-depth discussion.’ He was right, and if he’d left it there it would have been OK. But Sav had to get the last word in, had to spoil yet another morning with his own immovable view on things. ‘Anyway…’ He stalked out of the en suite, ripped off his towel and somehow managed to pull on his boxers and still look haughty at the same time. ‘What I think doesn’t really come into it. You’ve made that perfectly clear. You’ve made your choice: you’re doing whatever it is you need to do, Isla. The rest of us will just have to work around it.’
‘You’re impossible, Sav. You make it sound as if I’m off to a nightclub, or abandoning you all for a week in Bali to have massages and facials and lie on a beach, while I leave you all to fend for yourselves. I’m going to work, for heaven’s sake.’
‘Then go.’
Without another word she turned around, marched down the stairs, absolutely refusing to look back, determined not to make this wretched morning any worse.
‘Isla.’ Sav was at the top of the stairs, and slowly she turned to face him. ‘Good luck.’
Damn!
Why did he have to go and do that? Isla thought. Why did he have to go and do the right thing, say something so nice, when they both knew he didn’t want her to go back?
‘Thanks.’
They met halfway down the stairs. ‘You’ll be fine.’
‘I hope so.’ Isla sniffed.
‘I know so.’ He picked up the name tag that hung around her neck,
