said, handing the phone to Marina.
‘Marina Petrelli speaking.’
Even though Max tried hard not to listen in, he couldn’t help noticing that Marina went white.
‘What’s happened? Right. I see. Yes, of course.’ She replaced the receiver and blew out a breath. ‘Phoebe’s just thrown up everywhere. The nursery needs me to collect her and take her home, as in right now.’ She bit her lip. ‘Dr Fenton, I know I’m rostered in here with you today, and we’re short-staffed, but—’
‘Just go,’ Max cut in. ‘The child obviously needs you.’ He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘your daughter’; the words made his throat feel as if it were closing, and he was angry with himself for not being able to get a grip. He should be happy that Marina’s life was on track and that she’d clearly found a partner who loved her the way she deserved to be loved. The fact that he hadn’t moved on and found someone else himself was his own stupid fault, and it wasn’t fair to blame her for his own shortcomings. ‘I’ll arrange cover.’
‘Thank you.’ This time, her smile was genuine, gratitude, clearly mixed with fear for her child; she looked worried sick. And for good reason; he’d been told that the previous month the hospital had had to put a ban on visitors because so many patients and staff had been struck down by the winter vomiting-virus.
He didn’t have time to add that he hoped it was nothing serious, because Marina had already left, walking very quickly, the way junior doctors soon learned to do so they could cover the ground between the on-call room and a department at maximum speed and with minimum risk.
To his surprise, Marina was back in the department again within two hours.
What the hell was she doing here? Her daughter was ill and needed her, and yet Marina was at work. Her priorities were way out of line. ‘Shouldn’t you be at home?’ he demanded.
Marina shook her head. ‘It’s OK. Mum’s taken over. I rang her on the way to collect Phoebe.’
‘Your mother’s looking after Phoebe?’ He stared at her in disbelief. Just what was going on here? He knew that family was important to Marina, and given the way she’d fallen apart when she’d lost their baby he would’ve bet good money that she would always put her child before her job—before anything else. How could she just dump her sick daughter on her mother’s doorstep?
Then again, the cost of living was high in London. Perhaps she and her partner were struggling financially and needed her salary to survive—what was left of it, after the cost of childcare.
‘What about the child’s father?’ The question was out before he could stop it.
She looked defensive. ‘Neil’s really busy at work. I can’t expect him to drop everything. Not when—’
‘Save it. It’s none of my business,’ he cut in. He knew he was being rude, but he was angry—with himself, as much as with her. Why couldn’t he get his head round the fact that Marina had moved on, that she’d found happiness with someone else? Why was he so selfish that he couldn’t be pleased for her, or relieved that she wasn’t stuck in the same limbo of misery that he was?
She said nothing, but her face looked pinched, and her dark eyes were wary whenever she spoke to him for the rest of the afternoon.
As Max’s anger faded, he realised how just unfair he’d been. Which was why he sent Marina off the ward at five o’clock sharp.
‘I can’t leave when we still have a patient to treat,’ she said in a low voice.
‘We’ll manage without you.’
‘But—’
‘Phoebe needs you. Go home.’
‘But—’
‘Go home,’ he repeated, trying to make his voice gentle. It was obvious that Marina was torn between her child and her duty; he had no intention of making the choice any more difficult for her.
But he thought about it for the rest of the evening—and wondered. Had their child been ill, how would he have acted? He was pretty sure he knew—and his choice wouldn’t have been the same as Neil’s.
Then again, he hadn’t exactly been a perfect husband to Marina. He hadn’t been there when she’d needed him. Yes, work had been busy, but he’d used his career as an excuse to avoid facing the misery at home. He hadn’t known how to make things better, for either of them, so he’d put his job first. Her second husband was clearly out of the same mould, so Max knew he was hardly in a position to criticise the guy. It didn’t stop him feeling angry about the situation, though, or thinking that Marina deserved better.
Wednesday; thank God it was Wednesday, Marina thought. As part of her training as a specialist registrar in emergency paediatrics, her boss had arranged for her to spend one day a week in the Children’s Assessment Unit. She was covering in part for Katrina Morgan, who was on maternity leave. Rhys Morgan—the consultant, who was also Katrina’s husband—had taught her a huge amount.
Marina loved every second of the time she spent on the CAU and always looked forward to it, but the fact that she didn’t have to face Max today made it even better.
‘Are you OK, Marina?’ Rhys asked. ‘You look a bit pale.’
‘I’m fine,’ Marina fibbed with a smile. ‘Just tired.’ She hadn’t slept particularly well the previous night, brooding about Max and how hostile he’d been towards her. Yes, she’d been the one to walk out—but they were both equally responsible for the collapse of their marriage. And hadn’t they agreed that they were going to put their patients first? If he carried on like that, there was no way they’d be able to work together—and it wouldn’t be fair on their patients or the rest of the team.
‘Not studying too hard, I hope?’ Rhys said.
‘No, just worrying about my sister.’ It was true: just not the whole truth. Not that she was going to burden Rhys with the mess of her personal life. ‘And, yes, I know she’s in good hands and Theo Petrakis is the best maternity specialist for miles.’ Theo’s wife Madison and Rhys’s wife Katrina were cousins, but were as close as sisters—though Marina knew that Rhys would have put the family connection aside when he’d assessed his colleague’s medical skills, just as she would have.
‘But Rosie’s still your sister—and where your own family’s concerned all your medical knowledge goes out of the window. You end up being like a medical student again, poring through textbooks and convincing yourself that you can see the symptoms of really rare complications,’ Rhys said, smiling back. ‘Katrina says I’m going to be a nightmare when she goes into labour, just as Theo was with Maddie.’
‘Doctors, eh?’ Marina said wryly. ‘How is Katrina, by the way?’
‘Blooming,’ Rhys said. ‘It’s our first anniversary next week. I had planned to take her to Venice for the weekend, but with her being seven-and-a-half months’ pregnant I don’t want her to fly. So instead we’re going to Southwold, on the coast of Suffolk.’ He grinned. ‘And, yes, I know that this cold snap means that the east coast is going to feel like Siberia. We’ll just have to tough it out and snuggle up in front of a proper log-fire in the little thatched cottage I booked.’
‘That
