The Italian Surgeon's Christmas Miracle

by Alison Roberts

  Amy took a step closer. She had to make him see how important this was. Her voice rose but she was pleased to hear it gaining strength. ‘We’d probably lose the children because Social Services tries to place them in a radius of their own homes for precisely that kind of reason. They need something familiar in their territory like a school. And besides…’ Amy straightened her back and glared at Luke, outrage colouring her tone. ‘This is my home. I came here to live when I was ten years old. When my dad died. Uncle Vanni was like a father to my sister and me. There’s no way he would have wanted us to lose this house. There is another will. There has to be.’

  ‘Arrangements are already in place,’ Luke said with finality. ‘The house is going to be demolished.’

  ‘Over my dead body!’ Amy snarled.

  The surgeon was clearly taken aback by such blatant defiance. But then he simply turned away as though he couldn’t see any point in continuing this discussion. He was avoiding eye contact. He didn’t intend to be persuaded that any viewpoint other than his own might be legitimate.

  ‘We’re going to contest the will,’ Amy added bravely. She stared at the vein on Luke’s temple that had become suddenly more obvious. He had to be incredibly angry. Beside the vein, the tiny line of a scar ran from the side of his left eye upwards to disappear under the waves of dark hair. She’d never noticed that before, but why would she? The only times she had been this close to the surgeon had been when he’d been wearing a hat and mask.

  ‘Have you any idea how horrendously expensive that would be?’

  ‘We’re getting legal aid.’ Amy crossed her fingers behind her back. She hoped they were getting legal aid. ‘And there’s no way you can do anything about demolishing this house while we’re still living in it and…and we’re not moving.’ She resisted the urge to add, So there!

  That scar was disconcerting. The kind of scar that could be left from a long-ago injury. Clearly, her unexpected and unwelcome visitor was telling the truth but it begged the question of why Uncle Vanni had not known the truth.

  Or had he?

  Amy tilted her head just enough to be able to discern that scar again. Had Uncle Vanni been afraid of what might have been the result of an horrific head injury? Had the thought of trying to raise a disabled son alone been too much?

  No. That didn’t make sense because Uncle Vanni had devoted his life to helping other people’s children. Including disabled children, like Summer. But, then, why had he stayed in London and not returned to his native country? Because he couldn’t bring himself to get that far away from his son? It was confusing. Disturbing.

  ‘My solicitor will be in touch. His name is Reginald Battersby.’

  ‘I’ve met him.’ Amy stepped sideways, trying to position herself between Luke and the door. She couldn’t let him leave like this. Where had that ray of hope gone? He understood, didn’t he? He’d protected the children by going along with her lie.

  And what about that strange sensation she’d experienced when she had watched him listen to Summer’s chest without the benefit of a stethoscope? To see his ear laid so gently on tiny, fragile ribs? The way his half-closed eyes had made the dark fan of his eyelashes and the shadowing of stubble on his jaw so much more noticeable. There had been more than hope in the curiously warm, fizzy sensation flooding Amy at that point. Trust had been mixed with hope, dammit!

  What had changed while she had been upstairs? She couldn’t have been that wrong, surely? What had she done to deserve having that newfound trust broken?

  It wasn’t fair.

  More than that. It wasn’t right.

  ‘Why do you want to do this?’ Amy demanded. ‘What have you got against us?’

  ‘Nothing. Until very recently I had no idea my…father was living here. Until today I had no idea who you were.’

  That was a good way to fuel her anger. If he’d had no idea his father had lived here, it might explain why he’d never visited before, but she worked with this man, for heaven’s sake. He’d bawled her out only days ago, but she hadn’t been important enough for him to bother learning her name. Never mind what she’d seen with Summer. Luke Harrington was not a nice man.

  Amy’s control snapped. She was more than ready to go into battle to defend her family.

  ‘It’ll look good, won’t it?’ she said with deceptive sweetness. ‘The photo in the papers with us all sitting in the street? Right before Christmas. In the snow. With Summer’s oxygen cylinder. Millions of people will see that someone who’s supposed to care about children doesn’t really give a damn. Even about one of his own patients.’

  Luke’s face was grim. ‘That isn’t going to happen. Reginald is going to find suitable accommodation. For all of you.’

  ‘In the same place? I doubt it. We stick together here,’ Amy warned. ‘And I also doubt that your Reginald has any idea about what’s suitable. The man’s as old as Methuselah. He probably thinks foster-children should be earning their keep sweeping chimneys.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  But Amy was just warming up. ‘And even if you don’t give a damn about us, what have you got against this house? It’s gorgeous! Early Victorian architecture that deserves to be preserved. A lot of people will be very upset when they learn it’s going to be bulldozed. We’ll probably get any number happy to chain themselves to the railings. The media will love that, too.’

  ‘The house is falling down. It’s not even safe!’

  ‘It could be fixed.’

  ‘It would cost a fortune.’

  ‘From what I’ve heard, that’s exactly what you’ve got sitting in the bank!’

  Ooh, she’d stepped over the line now. Onto the kind of personal ground that hospital grapevines thrived on. Amy didn’t need to see the dangerous glint in Luke’s eyes to know that he would hate being the subject of gossip. She also had the distinct feeling she was going to regret this.

  ‘What makes you think I’m planning to keep the proceeds from this property?’ Luke snapped. ‘Not that it’s any of your damn business, but I intend to donate any profits to an appropriate charity.’

  Amy’s jaw dropped. He didn’t need the money. He didn’t want the house. He was planning to get rid of it and give the money away?

  Why not just give the house away?

  To them?

  He had pulled his gloves and keys from a pocket of the black coat. He was ready to leave and he only had to step around Amy to reach the door. He began to do just that.

  ‘W-wait,’ she stammered. She needed to repair the damage she’d just done. To find a way to present their case calmly. To get down on her knees and beg if that was what it would take.

  ‘What for?’ The disgust in Luke’s tone suggested that nothing Amy could say would be worth listening to.

  ‘For…for…’ For the children, Amy wanted to cry. For my mother and sister and grandmother. For me. But tears threatened to choke her words and she needed to think. To say something that would stop Luke walking out the door.

  And in that tiny gap of time as she hesitated, a cold wind rushed into the room. There was a loud bang as the back door from the scullery to the garden slammed and then…

  ‘Zoe!’ Amy sucked in her breath at her babysitter’s precipitous entrance.

  The girl had obviously been running and now she stood there with her mouth opening and closing but no sound emerging as she tried to catch her breath. The anorak she was wearing had a ripped sleeve.

  ‘Zoe?’ This time Amy let her concern show. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Bernie!’

  ‘Bernie? As in your mum’s boyfriend?’

  ‘Yeah…’ Zoe managed a deeper breath. ‘’Cept he’s not just a boyfriend any more. He’s a—What do you call it when you’re gonna get married?’

  ‘Fiancé?’

  ‘Yeah. He’s gonna move in and he says Monty’s got to go.’

  ‘What? Why?’

&nb
sp; ‘He says he’s just a smelly stray and he’s too big and he costs too much to feed and he’s…he’s going to get rid of him!’ Zoe burst into tears.

  Amy gathered the girl into her arms. ‘It’s all right, cara,’ she said, more than once because Zoe was crying too loudly to hear her. ‘We’ll sort it out.’

  Turning her head, Amy could see that Luke had moved closer, reluctance and concern warring on his features. This girl was clearly in trouble. Possibly injured. As a doctor he had a duty to help.

  As a man, he wanted nothing more than to turn and get out of this house.

  Behind Luke, Amy could see the frightened faces of several children.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she told them. ‘Nothing for you guys to worry about.’

  They continued staring.

  ‘Kyra? It’s time Chantelle was in bed and could you make sure the twins and Summer are OK? Give the boys a kiss for me. They’re probably asleep by now.’

  ‘But what’s wrong with Zoe?’

  Amy felt the girl shudder in her arms and a nose scraped painfully on her collar-bone as Zoe buried her face. No doubt this teenager was embarrassed to be seen like this by the younger children.

  ‘She’s upset,’ Amy told them. ‘But she’s OK. Don’t worry, I’m going to sort it out. You can help by getting yourselves off to bed.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Come on.’ Robert gave Amy a nod that said he could deal with this. ‘Upstairs, all of you. Do what Amy says.’

  ‘Thanks, Rob.’

  The boy paused in the doorway, uncertainty in his face as he glanced back.

  ‘We’re OK,’ Amy assured him. ‘Mr Harrington’s still here.’

  Oh, God. He was still here. Was he ever going to be able to escape?

  Not immediately, that was for sure. He could hardly walk out when this strange-looking girl was obviously in some sort of trouble with a soon-to-be stepfather. And what about that ripped jacket? How heavy handed was this Bernie character? Was it possible the confrontation had become physical? And who the hell was Monty? The girl’s boyfriend? Brother?

  She was just a kid. A weird-looking kid dressed completely in black, with jet-black hair that sported an electric pink streak and enough piercings to send a metal detector into overload. In the brief glimpse he’d already had, Luke had seen a ring through her lower lip, something in her nose and eyebrows and the ear that was currently visible had ornaments around its entire perimeter. Even through the tragus in the centre.

  She was maybe sixteen years old? Young enough to be admitted to a paediatric ward in any case. Young enough to need protection. To deserve safety and assistance. If there was an angry man involved, he could hardly leave Amy and a bunch of vulnerable children to defend themselves, could he? As fiercely as Amy had just demonstrated she was prepared to defend the people she cared about, she was just a slip of a woman herself. Delicate…physically, anyway. There was certainly nothing delicate about this woman’s spirit.

  The very thought of her having to defend herself physically was abhorrent. So much so that Luke had to take a deep breath to steady himself. He needed something else to focus on. Something real that couldn’t stir imaginary and therefore useless emotional reactions.

  ‘Can you get Zoe to sit down?’ he suggested. ‘We need to find out if she’s been hurt.’

  ‘I’m not hurt!’ The girl pulled back from Amy’s embrace. ‘Bernie wouldn’t hurt me.’ Luke could see eyes that seemed disconcertingly pale thanks to thick black make-up that hadn’t entirely run down the pale face. ‘And I’ve hidden Monty so he can’t do anything to him, either. Who’re you?’

  ‘This is Mr Harrington, Zoe,’ Amy said. ‘He’s a surgeon at Lizzie’s where I work.’

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ Zoe’s gaze flicked back to Amy. ‘Is he your boyfriend now?’

  ‘No!’

  Did she have to sound quite that horrified? As though she wouldn’t consider dating him if he were the last man on earth?

  And why had Amy’s face flushed so pink? Her eyes were so dark compared to the pale blue of Zoe’s. Luke stared back at the two female faces. Dark eyes were so much more attractive, he found himself thinking and in that same moment he was horrified at himself.

  Not because he considered Amy’s eyes attractive but because something so shallow—so emotional—had actually distracted him so he wasn’t thinking of anything else. Just the kind of mental behaviour he had conquered long ago.

  What the hell was going on here?

  ‘I’ll explain later,’ Amy told Zoe. ‘Are you sure you’re not hurt? Your jacket’s all ripped…’ She touched Zoe’s cheek and Luke could swear he felt that touch himself.

  So gentle. So full of genuine concern. It tugged at something deep within Luke. Something disturbingly poignant.

  ‘I ripped the jacket on some wire in the shed. That’s where I hid Monty.’

  ‘It’s too cold to leave him in there. You’ll need to bring him inside.’

  ‘He can come here?’ Zoe’s face brightened. ‘You don’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not. We love Monty. We’ll…adopt him.’

  ‘What if Mum says you can’t?’

  ‘Do you think she would?’

  ‘Nah. She’d be glad to get rid of him.’ Zoe scrubbed at her nose and Luke winced at the thought of the metal spike in her nostril getting in the way. ‘She wasn’t that happy when I saved him from getting beaten up by those boys.’

  ‘He’s got a home here,’ Amy said firmly. ‘And you can visit whenever you want to. How much can it cost to feed one dog, after all?’ With another squeeze of Zoe’s shoulders and a discreet but anxious glance at her watch, Amy moved to the stove to pick up a kettle. ‘Hot chocolate coming up,’ she said cheerfully.

  ‘I’ll just go and get Monty,’ Zoe said. ‘And his blankets and stuff. Is that cool? I’ll only be a few minutes.’

  ‘Sure. But be as quick as you can. I can’t be late for work.’

  The cold-water tap over the old porcelain sink was turned on and a ghastly, shuddering noise filled the kitchen.

  ‘Good grief,’ Luke said. ‘What is that?’

  ‘Just air in the pipes,’ Amy said offhandedly. ‘It’ll come right in a tick.’ Sure enough, the water spat and dribbled and then began to flow and the dreadful noise abated.

  Luke opened his mouth and then shut it again. This was hardly the time to score further points about how inadequate this housing was. Not when Amy had just collected another inhabitant. Somehow it didn’t surprise him that she would be prepared to lavish emotional energy on animals, as well as people. She was half-Italian, after all. Plenty of emotional energy to go around.

  A heavy, unfamiliar feeling was gathering over Luke like dark clouds. He had known it would be a mistake to set foot in this house.

  Amy seemed to be thinking hard, but Luke could read nothing in her expression when she glanced in his direction. She gave a slight nod just as the first tendril of steam escaped the spout of the kettle. Then she looked at her watch very deliberately.

  ‘I absolutely have to go to work,’ she said suddenly. ‘I’ll let Margaret know what’s happening. She might be able to get a pool nurse in to cover and then I’d be able to come home.’ Amy was speaking very fast, the words tumbling over each other. ‘I’ve got my mobile. Could you please tell Zoe to text me if she needs me?’

  ‘You can’t leave!’ Luke made the statement an order.

  ‘I have to. I can’t afford to lose my job.’

  This was unacceptable. Luke stared at Amy. ‘You’re going to leave a house full of children? Unattended?’

  ‘I’m not leaving them unattended,’ Amy said calmly. ‘You’re here.’

  ‘I’m not staying.’

  ‘Why not? It’s your house. And it’s not for long. Zoe will be back in just a few minutes.’ She sounded extraordinarily calm. ‘I don’t really see that you’ve got a choice, Mr Harrington. Sorry.’

  She didn’t look sorry. There was an expression curious
ly like satisfaction as Amy shrugged on a coat that hung behind the kitchen door, grabbed a bright red tote bag that stood beside the hutch dresser and practically ran from the house.

  It all seemed to happen within seconds. Stunning! And now Luke knew what that strange, heavy feeling was.

  Defeat. By stepping into this damned house he had stepped onto a battlefield and he had just lost the first skirmish. Something akin to admiration sneaked into the astonishment at the way he had just been manipulated.

  Amy Phillips was certainly a force to be reckoned with.

  There was no point continuing to stare at an empty doorway. Luke turned as the kettle began to whistle. He had to move to take it off the range and he was still standing there, lost in thought, when the back door opened again.

  Zoe entered, holding a piece of rope. On the end of the rope was the biggest dog Luke had ever seen. Long, long legs and tufty hair and big sad brown eyes.

  Luke stared. He couldn’t help it. He knew he probably had an expression of extreme distaste on his face but he couldn’t help that, either. He had a flash of sympathy for Bernie. This animal was too big and probably did smell and would, most likely, cost a fortune to feed.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Zoe told him scathingly. ‘He probably doesn’t like you, either.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I know who you are,’ she informed him. ‘And I really don’t like you.’

  ‘Oh?’ Despite himself, Luke was curious. ‘Why is that?’

  ‘You made Amy cry.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE route that cut through a corner of Regent’s Park, crossed the busy main roads and then tracked past the ambulance entrance to Lizzie’s emergency department had never been completed so fast.

  Amy felt as if she was running for her life and her heart was still pounding so hard she had to slow down on the stairs up to the floor that housed the cardiology ward.

  What had she done?

  It had seemed like the perfect solution at the time. Of course the children couldn’t be left without a responsible adult in attendance. Not when the babysitter was hardly more than a child herself and was currently distracted by her own problems.