Happy Mother's Day!

Francesco looked at the sharp edge and cursed under his breath. When he turned back to Erin she was dabbing the tip of her tongue to the beads of sweat along her upper lip. He had no doubt at all she was playing down her symptoms for his benefit.

‘You will make them save my baby, won’t you, Francesco, if I’m out of it for any reason?’

Francesco, pale under his tan, closed his eyes. ‘You won’t be out of it,’ he told her hoarsely.

‘But just in case,’ she persisted.

‘I will do everything that is necessary.’ To keep you safe and well, he added silently.

The ambulance arrived a few minutes later. Francesco watched, feeling increasingly useless as they loaded Erin into the back of the ambulance. Before getting in himself, Francesco babbled a brief explanation to a shocked and concerned Sam and Valentina who had appeared.

The presence at Erin’s side of a paramedic who monitored her condition meant he couldn’t even hold her hand. Once they reached the hospital casualty department the situation got, if anything, more frustrating. She was whisked away immediately, while they expected him to be content with a promise from a harassed-looking doctor that they would tell him as soon as they knew anything.

Francesco was not content.

He was expressing his discontent to an officious and most obstructive person whose name badge identified him as some sort of administrator when a doctor older than the one who had spoken to him earlier approached.

‘Mr Romanelli, is it?’

Francesco took the hand extended to him.

‘James Ross.’

‘What is happening to my wife?’ The conspiracy of silence was driving him crazy. Did these people not appreciate that with no information it was natural to assume the worst? ‘I need to be with her.’

The doctor gave a soothing smile. ‘And you shall be,’ he promised. ‘Come with me—we’ll go somewhere a little more private.’

Wasn’t that what they said in medical dramas before they broke bad news?

Francesco refused tea, refused a seat, and explained that the only thing he was interested in was information concerning his wife’s well-being.

‘Yes, well, I’m afraid that your wife has some internal bleeding.’

He looked understanding as Francesco, deathly pale beneath his naturally vibrant colouring, sank into the chair he had just rejected.

Francesco had felt like this only once before. On that occasion he could remember thinking that a man could only endure this sort of pain once. Yet here he was alive and feeling as if someone had pushed their hand into his chest and ripped out his heart.

‘That is bad?’

‘Well, any surgical intervention carries a risk.’

The breath left Francesco’s body in a long shuddering sigh. ‘You mean you can do something?’

‘Good Lord, yes! I’m sorry I wasn’t clear.’

Francesco suspected it was his mental acuity and not the doctor’s communication skills that were at fault.

‘Hopefully we will be able to perform the procedure via a laparoscope—no need, you understand, for an incision? That is the method of choice, but there are no guarantees. Depending on what we find, we might have to go in.

‘Your wife is very concerned about what the operation will mean for the baby, but I have made it quite plain to her that there is really no option.’

‘The baby is all right—alive?'Amazement swept over him. ‘I assumed when you said …’

‘No, your baby is doing very well, and there is no reason that it should not survive the surgery without taking any harm. Though again, and I emphasise this, there are no guarantees.’

‘But it has a fighting chance?’ If anything happened to the baby, Erin would never forgive him—he would never forgive himself!

‘Absolutely. Now would you like to see your wife?’