‘Neonatal Unit—Diego speaking.’
‘It’s me.’ Izzy hadn’t really expected him to answer the phone. It was edging towards ten p.m., which meant he had done a double shift. ‘I was just ringing to check up on Tilia.’
‘She’s had a good night so far, I think,’ Diego said. ‘I’ll just have a word with the nurse who’s looking after her.’ And she sat there and held her breath as he did what all the nursing staff did when a mother rang at night to check on their baby. She could even hear his voice in the background and Izzy held her breath as he came to the phone. ‘She’s settled and she’s taken her bottle. You can relax, she’s having a good night.’
‘Thank you.’
He said goodnight, he was lovely and kind, but he was Nurse Unit Manager and that was all.
Something had changed.
Izzy just knew it.
The phone rang again and Izzy pounced on it, sure it was Diego, only it wasn’t, and she frowned at the vaguely familiar voice. ‘I’m sorry to trouble you. It’s just that you gave me your number. You’re the only one who seemed to understand it’s not as simple as just leaving…’
‘Evelyn?’
‘I can’t go on like this.’
‘Evelyn.’ Izzy kept her voice calmer than she felt. ‘Where are you now?’
‘I’m at home. He’s at the pub…’ Even if she wanted to dwell on Diego or Tilia, or to just go to bed, Izzy pushed it aside and listened. So badly she wanted to tell Evelyn to get out, to just pack her bags and go, but Izzy remembered how she had rushed it last time, knew that it was good Evelyn was taking this small step, so, instead of jumping in and fixing, Izzy bit her tongue and just listened, learning fast that sometimes it was the best you could do.
‘Are you okay?’ Izzy was quite sure Megan wasn’t. She had come and sat with her in the canteen and Izzy could tell she’d been crying, but, then, so had a lot of people.
Toby had passed away last night and both Diego and Megan, Izzy had heard from another mother, had stayed till the end.
‘I’ve been better,’ Megan admitted. ‘All I put that baby through and the parents too—and for what?’
‘Don’t,’ Izzy said, because they’d had these conversations before. Megan set impossible standards for herself, wanted to save each and every baby, and took it right to her heart when nature chose otherwise. ‘Look at Genevieve!’ Izzy said.
‘I know.’ Megan blew out a breath. ‘This really got to me, though, and Diego—he doesn’t normally get upset, but I guess finding out his dad’s so sick…’ Her voice trailed off, realising she was being indiscreet. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘I’m not going to tell him.’ Izzy felt her throat tighten. It was such a tightrope—they were all friends, all colleagues, all different things to each other. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
Megan screwed her eyes closed. ‘Izzy, please don’t.’
‘Just because I’ve had a baby it doesn’t mean my brain’s softened. Nobody would tell me anything about Toby, forgetting the fact I delivered him, and now I’m not supposed to be told Diego’s father’s sick. I knew there was something wrong last night.’
‘He probably doesn’t want to worry you.’
‘Well, I am worried,’ Izzy said. ‘Is it bad?’
Reluctantly Megan nodded but no more information was forthcoming and Izzy sat quietly for a moment with her thoughts. ‘I’ve had an offer on the house,’ Izzy said, ‘but they want a quick settlement. Thirty days.’
‘Ouch!’ Megan said. ‘Will you be able to find somewhere?’
‘Probably.’
‘What about your mum’s?’ Megan managed a smile at Izzy’s reaction. ‘Okay, bad idea.’
‘I think I should be concentrating on Tilia, not trying to find somewhere to live.’
‘There’s always Diego’s,’ Megan teased, adding when she saw Izzy close her eyes, ‘I was joking—I know it’s way too soon to even be thinking—’
‘But I do,’ Izzy admitted, and Megan’s eyes widened.
‘You hardly know each other.’
‘I know that.’ Izzy nodded. ‘I can’t stand being in the house, but I think it’s best for now…’ She was trying to be practical, logical, sensible. ‘I don’t want to force any decisions on us.’ She looked at her friend. ‘I’m trying to hold onto my heart here. I’m trying to just be in the now with him, but practically the day I met him I was knocked sideways. I felt it, this connection, this chemistry.’ She looked at Megan, who was frowning. ‘Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?’
‘No.’ Megan swallowed and then her voice was urgent. ‘Don’t sell your house.’ Megan, who normally was happy to sit and just listen, was practically hopping in her seat to give advice. ‘Izzy, Diego’s lovely and everything…’ She was struggling to give the right advice, tempted to tell Izzy to turn tail and run because she’d felt that way once too and look where it had left her. Love had swept in for Megan and left a trail of devastation that all these years on she was still struggling to come to terms with—pain so real that she still woke some nights in tears, still lived with the consequences and would till the day she left the earth. ‘Be careful, Izzy,’ Megan said, even if wasn’t the advice Izzy wanted. ‘Maybe you should have some time on your own. At least, don’t rush into anything with Diego—you’ve got Tilia to think of. Diego’s father’s sick, he could just up and go to Spain…’ And then Megan stopped herself, saw Izzy’s stunned expression and realised she had been too harsh, realised perhaps she was talking more about herself than her friend.
‘Izzy, don’t listen to me,’ Megan begged. ‘Who am I to give advice? I haven’t been in a relationship in ages, I’m married to my career.’ Megan swallowed. ‘And I don’t have a child. I’m the last person to tell you what you should be doing. Maybe speak to Jess…’ She was close to tears and feeling wretched. The last thing Megan had wanted to do was project her own bitterness onto Izzy, especially at such a vulnerable time, but the last few weeks had been hell for Megan—sheer hell. Since Josh had come to work at St Piran’s she was struggling to even think straight. ‘Maybe you should talk to Jess,’ Megan said again as her pager went off, summoning her to the children’s ward. She gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. ‘You’ll make the right choice.’ She turned to leave, but there he was, right there in front of her.
‘Megan…’ Josh said. ‘Did you get my message?’
She went to walk on, but Josh was insistent.
‘Megan, we need to talk—there are things we need to discuss.’ He caught her wrist and Megan looked at his hand around hers, their first physical contact in years, and she couldn’t stand it because it was there, the chemistry, the reaction, her skin leaping at the memory of him, and it terrified her—it truly terrified her. She shook him off.
‘There’s nothing to discuss,’ Megan said.
‘There’s plenty,’ Josh insisted, and she felt herself waver, because there was so much to discuss but, worse, she knew that he felt her waver, knew they were still in sync. ‘Not here,’ Josh said, because heads in the corridor were turning.
Megan grappled for control of her mind, held onto the pain he had caused as if it were a liferaft, because if she forgot for a moment she would sink back into his charm.
And she remembered more, enough for a sneer to curl her lips.
Then she let herself remember just a little bit more, enough to force harsh words from her lips.
‘Where, then, Josh?’ Megan spat. ‘Where should we meet?’ She watched as he ran a tongue over his lips, knew then he hadn’t thought this out, perhaps hadn’t expected her to agree. ‘There’s a nice restaurant on the foreshore,’ she sneered. ‘Oh, but we might be seen!’ she jeered. ‘How about Penhally, or is that too close? Maybe you could pop over to mine…’ She was blind with rage now, shaking just to stop herself from shouting. ‘You’re married, Josh, so, no, we can’t meet. You’re a married man.’ If she said it again, maybe if she said it enough times, she would come to accept it. ‘Which means
there is absolutely nothing to discuss.’
And she remembered some more then, not all of it, because that would be too cruel to herself, but Megan remembered just enough of what she had been through to make the only sensible choice—to turn on her heel and walk quickly away.
She wasn’t upset that he hadn’t told her about his father.
In truth, Izzy knew he hadn’t had a chance. Her dad had been over the last two nights trying to get the spare room ready for Tilia, who had, after twelve hours of not taking a drop from the bottle, awoken from her slumber and had taken her feeds like a dream. Now on the eve of her discharge, they were scrambling to find two minutes alone.
She was sitting in the nursery, feeding Tilia her bottle, Brianna was on her break and Diego was doing Tilia’s obs.
‘Do you want me to come over tonight?’ Diego offered. ‘Help you get everything ready for tomorrow?’
‘My mum’s coming,’ Izzy said, but right now she didn’t care about her mother’s reaction. ‘I could cancel, tell her why perhaps…about us.’
‘I think…’ she sensed his reluctance ‘…you should wait till Tilia is no longer a patient.’
He was right, of course he was right, but though there were a million and one reasons they hadn’t had any time together, Megan’s words had hit home. Izzy was sure, quite sure, that Diego was pulling back—he looked terrible. Well, still absolutely gorgeous, except there were black rings under his eyes and he was more unshaven than usual and there was just this air to him that his world was heavy. And Izzy was quite sure she was a part of his problem. ‘Her obs are good.’ He checked Tilia’s chart. ‘She’s put on more weight.’ And then he suggested that while Tilia was sleeping she watch a video in the parents’ room, but apnoea was the last thing Izzy wanted to deal with right now, she was having enough trouble remembering to breathe herself.
‘I’m going to go home now.’ She looked down at her sleeping daughter, because it was easier than looking at him with tears in her eyes. She didn’t want to push or question, because she didn’t want to sound needy—but, hell, she felt needy.
They had made love and suddenly everything had changed.
‘I’d better make sure everything’s ready for the big day. I’ll see you in the morning,’ Izzy said, and watched him swallow. ‘You can wave her off…’
‘I’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning,’ Diego said, and she couldn’t mask her disappointment. She wasn’t asking him to take her baby home with him, or to out them to her family, just for him to be there, even if all he could manage was professional on the day she took her daughter home, she wanted that at least.
‘Can you reschedule?’ She hated to nag but hated it more that he shook his head.
‘I really can’t.’
‘There’s a call for you, Diego.’ Rita came over.
‘Thanks.’
‘The travel agent,’ Rita added, and Diego wasn’t sure if she’d done it deliberately, but Rita must have felt her back burning as she walked off, with the blistering look Diego gave her.
‘My father,’ Diego said eventually, but he could barely look her in the eyes. ‘He’s sick. Very sick,’ he added. ‘I wanted to speak to you properly—I need to go back.’
Izzy nodded and held Tilia just a little bit tighter, felt her warm weight, and it was actually Tilia who gave her strength. ‘Of course you do.’
‘Diego!’ She could hear shouts for his attention, hear the summons of the emergency bell, and for now the travel agent would be forgotten, but only for now. His real future was just being placed temporarily on hold.
Izzy sat there and held her baby, her world, her family, and she was sure, quite sure, that she was about to lose Diego to his.
‘Thank you.’ Izzy said it a hundred times or more.
To Richard, to Chris, to Rita, to all the staff that popped in to say goodbye and wish her and Tilia well, but the people that mattered most weren’t there. Megan, Brianna and Diego had a ‘meeting’. And though the NICU was used to babies going home, Izzy wasn’t used to taking one home and wished they could have been there for this moment.
‘She looks such a big girl.’ Gwen was the doting grandmother now and her father carried the car seat with Tilia inside. Finally she was out of the neonatal unit and taking her baby home.
‘You know I’m happy to stay over. Between your mother and I, you don’t have to be on your own for a few weeks…’
Except she wanted to be alone.
Or not quite alone.
There was the one she wanted to share this moment walking towards her now, with Brianna and Megan at his side, and with a stab of realisation at her own selfishness Izzy realised just how important their ‘meeting’ had been.
Diego was in a suit and he’d discarded the tie, but Izzy knew it had been a black one. Megan was in dark grey and Brianna too.
‘Hey! Looks who’s going home.’ Brianna snapped to happy, fussed and cooed over Tilia, and Megan gave her friend a hug, but it was more than a little awkward, almost a relief when Megan had to dash off.
Had to dash off.
Megan actually thought she might vomit.
She felt like this each and every time she had to attend one of her precious patients’ funerals, but today had been worse. With Josh back in her life Megan was having enough trouble holding things together, but when even Diego had struggled through a hymn, when the one who never got too involved held the song sheet and she could see his hand shaking, this morning had been the worst of them all.
Bar one.
‘Megan!’ Josh caught her arm as she tried to dash past him, his face the last she needed to see now. He took in her clothes and pale cheeks, her lips so white she looked as if she might faint at any moment. ‘I’m sorry…’
‘Sorry?’ She was close to ballistic as she shot the word out and Josh blinked.
‘You’ve clearly just been to a funeral…’
‘Perk of the job,’ Megan spat. ‘I get to go to lots. I get to stand there and relive it over and over.’
‘Is Megan okay?’ Izzy watched from a distance as her friend ran up the corridor.
‘It’s been a tough morning,’ Diego said. ‘I’ll talk to her later. You concentrate on you for now—enjoy taking Tilia home.’
‘Thanks for everything,’ Gwen said. ‘Everyone’s been marvellous.’ And Izzy caught Diego’s eyes and they shared a teeny private smile at her mother’s choice of words.
‘Thank you,’ she said, and because she had hugged Brianna and Megan, she got to hug him, and then he had to go and so did Izzy, but she wished, how she wished, it was him taking them home.
Chapter Fourteen
HER parents adored Tilia.
It was, of course, a relief, but it came with a down side.
Instead of Gwen bossing and taking over and whizzing round the house doing the little jobs that were rapidly turning into big jobs, the doting grandparents sat on the sofa, cooing over their granddaughter, occasionally rising to make a drink or lunch, then it was back to admiring their granddaughter. Then when Tilia fell asleep Gwen shooed Izzy off for a sleep of her own as she headed for the door, keen to get out of the way before Henry’s parents arrived, because Tilia’s two sets of grandparents in the same room wasn’t going to happen for a while yet.
‘You’re supposed to sleep when the baby does,’ was Gwen’s less than helpful advice.
Except Izzy couldn’t.
She lay in her bed and stared at her daughter—wished her homecoming could somehow have been different, wished for so many things for her, and for herself too. Unable to settle, Izzy headed downstairs, made herself a coffee and rather listlessly flicked through her neglected post as she waited for the kettle to boil.
And it came with no ceremony no warning.
What she’d expected Izzy didn’t really know. The envelope looked like any of the others from the insurance company and she just assumed there was something else they were requesting that she send. She briefly skimmed the letter, inten
ding to read it properly later, but it wasn’t a request for more information.
Instead, it was closure.
No relief washed over her. She read the letter again and stared at the cheque, and she didn’t know how she felt, except it was starting to look a lot like angry. Angry at Henry for what he had done to her life, for the money that couldn’t fix this, for her daughter who was without a father and for all that Izzy would have to tell her one day.
Izzy had never felt so alone.
The only person she wanted now was Diego.
Except how could she foist more of her drama on him? And, anyway, he would soon be back in Spain.
Lonely was a place she had better start to get used to.
Though she was beyond tired, when Henry’s parents arrived she made them coffee and put out cake and tried small talk as Tilia slept on. In the end, Izzy gave in and brought her daughter down. She watched her mother-in-law’s lips disappear when Izzy said, no, Tilia wasn’t due for a feed yet and, no, she didn’t need a bath.
‘I’ll do it,’ Mrs Bailey fussed. ‘You won’t have to do a thing.’
‘She’s asleep,’ Izzy pointed out, ‘and a bath exhausts her.’ And exhausted was all she felt when, clearly disappointed with the social skills of a tiny baby, Henry’s parents left.
The house that had been so tidy looked like a bomb site; there were coffee cups and plates all over the kitchen and Izzy went to load the dishwasher but realised that she had to empty if first and right now that task seemed too big.
There were bottles to be made up, once she had sterilised them, washing to be put on—eight hours home and Izzy, who had felt so confident, who had wished for this moment, when finally she was home alone with her daughter, wanted to go back to the safety of the nursery.
She could hear Tilia waking up at completely the wrong moment, because long held-back tears were coming to the fore.
She didn’t want an insurance payout, she didn’t want to raise her baby alone. She wanted to have met Diego when she was who she had once been, except this was who she was now.
St Piran's: The Wedding of The Year / St Piran's: Rescuing Pregnant Cinderella Page 29
