“Isla.”

When she didn’t answer, Salvador moved into the en suite bathroom. She lay there staring at his reflection in the dressing-room-table mirror, watching as he quietly undressed and then leaned over the sink to brush his teeth. The vivid, raised scar on his back, so red and angry, was easy to make out even from this distance.

How she longed to touch it, longed to run gentle fingers over it, to ask him how much it hurt. She winced as she imagined the gnarled metal from the car wreckage stabbing into his beautiful back and then the torturous operation to remove it.

But their wounds didn’t only lie skin-deep. Now they had to fight for the survival of their marriage!

A and E Drama

Blood pressure is high and pulses are racing

in these fast-paced, dramatic stories from

Harlequin® Medical Romance™.

They’ll move a mountain to save a life

in an emergency, be they the crash team,

emergency doctors or paramedics. There are

lots of critical situations amongst the

high tension and emotional passion in these

exciting stories of lives and loves at risk!

Carol Marinelli now also writes for Harlequin Presents™!

Emergency: A Marriage Worth Keeping

Carol Marinelli

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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CONTENTS

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright

PROLOGUE

‘DOES your husband have a temper?’

‘He’s Spanish,’ Isla answered, thinking of that gorgeous, volatile Latin temperament, of Sav’s arms waving in exasperation as he tried to ram home a point, tripping over the words as his mother tongue took over. ‘So of course he’s got a temper.’ Isla gave a nervous smile but it faded as she saw the solicitor’s eyebrow lift a good inch. ‘But he’s never hit me,’ she broke in immediately, annoyed at the connotation. ‘Sav would never hit me—never,’ she said again for effect, but the solicitor remained unmoved.

‘He doesn’t have to hit you,’ Karin said knowingly. ‘Abuse isn’t always physical.’

‘I’m not abused,’ Isla said firmly.

‘But your husband does have a temper?’

‘Actually, having said that, he doesn’t have a temper any more.’ Isla let out a low, mirthless laugh. ‘We’ve moved well past the stand-up row stage.’

‘And where are you now, Isla?’ Karin asked, waiting patiently as Isla took her time to respond, wondering how she could sum up in a short sentence the abyss their marriage had fallen into, the long lonely days rattling around a house that was too big, too quiet, followed by even longer, lonely nights as they lay in bed, firmly entrenched on their own sides and pretending to be asleep.

‘Where are you now, Isla?’ Karin asked again, only more gently this time, watching as her client’s tired, reddened eyes slowly lifted.

‘Sitting in a solicitor’s office, working out my options.’

The silence dragged on, Isla immersed in her own thoughts and Karin waiting for her client to elaborate further. Usually an expert at summing up people, to Karin there was something about Isla Ramirez that didn’t add up. When she’d walked nervously into her office two weeks ago Karin had been positive that after the initial brief consultation she’d never see her again. Sure almost that the rather fragile-looking blonde with the perfectly manicured nails and Pilate-toned thighs had arrived at the solicitor’s office on the back of a marital row. The affection in her voice when she’d spoken about her husband hadn’t fitted the usual mould of a woman about to leave her husband, and when Karin had actually gone through the procedures for a divorce, she had been sure that Isla Ramirez would be out of her office never to be seen again, yet here she was two weeks later, a touch thinner, a touch more exhausted perhaps, but with a steely determination Karin had missed at their last meeting.

It was Karin who eventually broke the silence, picking up her pen and shuffling the pile of notices in front of her. ‘OK, so we’ll lodge your application citing irretrievable breakdown?’

The solicitor’s pen was poised over her notes and Isla knew she was waiting for her to respond. Clearing her throat, Isla attempted to say yes but had to settle instead for a hesitant nod, which Karin Jensen failed to notice.

‘That is what we agreed on?’ Karin checked, looking up when Isla still failed to answer.

She hadn’t exactly agreed on anything, Isla wanted to point out. She’d merely come in to discuss her options.

Again.

Admittedly, the first visit had been a rather pale affair, with herself mumbling questions, feeling as guilty as hell for even being there, and the solicitor determinedly not giving too much away during the utterly no-obligation, free consultation.

Karin had been much more animated on this visit. Now there was actually money on the table, now she’d seemingly passed from curious to determined, Karin was only too happy to discuss Isla’s options.

Only too happy to sum up nine years of marriage in two little words.

Two very apt little words, Isla reluctantly admitted, fiddling with her handbag and hoping Karin would offer her another glass of water.

Her marriage had definitely broken down.

And if Sav even had a hint she’d visited a solicitor, irretrievable was certainly a word that sprang to mind.

‘I don’t want to do anything just yet.’ Her voice was back and Isla deliberately ignored the frown flickering across the young woman’s face. ‘I’m going back to work tomorrow and once I’ve got a wage coming in and have found somewhere for the children and me to live—’

‘Hold it right there.’ Karin put up a very steady hand, a sharp contrast to Isla’s trembling ones fiddling nervously in her lap. ‘The last thing you do is go back to work. Salvador, I mean Sav, has an obligation to you and the children to keep you in the style to which you’re accustomed, and as for moving out…’ She shook her head very slowly, very deliberately and fixed her client with a steely glare. ‘It’s your husband that will be moving out of the family home.’

‘I don’t want it to be like that,’ Isla insisted. ‘I have no intention of kicking him out of his home. Sav has enough on his plate already, without looking for somewhere else to live. He’s an emergency consultant. He hasn’t got time to be—’

‘And you’re a mother to his twin sons,’ Karin broke in. ‘It makes more sense for Salv—Sav to move out than to traumatize the boys with a house move as well as a divorce.’

‘Perhaps,’ Isla sighed.

‘And the very last thing you should even be thinking about is returning to work. It’s up to Sav to support you, to keep you in a manner—’

‘And he will,’ Isla broke in. ‘I don’t doubt that for a moment. But I’m more than capable of working, I certainly don’t need to bleed him dry. I know that when he calms down he’ll do the right thing and provide for me and the children.’

‘Maybe he will.’ Karin shrugged but her voice hardened. ‘For a while perhaps, at least until the next Mrs Ramirez comes along.’

‘Sav’s not like that,’ Isla said—immediately and with conviction. ‘There’s no one else involved in this, and I really can’t see anyone else “coming along”—for either of us,’ she added, but even though Karin never turned as much as a hair, never said a single word, Isla could almost hear the Just you wait that hung in the air, and it infuriated her.

What would Karin Jensen know about them?

What would Karin Jensen know about the love that had been between them, the sheer magic they had shared, and if, even with all that love, this marriage couldn’t work, then there was no way on this earth she’d do it again and she knew, just knew, that Sav would feel the same.

‘I want this divorce to be as amicable as possible…’

‘There’s no such thing.’ Karin shook her head. ‘Not when there are children involved. How do you know that Sav isn’t going to apply for custody of the boys? How do you know that Sav isn’t going to want to be the primary carer?’

Isla felt the colour drain out of her cheeks.

‘As soon as these papers are served the first thing Sav’s going to do is get himself a solicitor and, believe me, Isla, once that happens you can leave the word amicable out of your vocabulary for a while. You need to come out of your corner fighting.’

‘But Sav hasn’t done anything wrong,’ Isla protested.

‘Then why are you here?’

She had a point, Isla reluctantly acknowledged. At every turn she’d defended Sav, at every opportunity she’d insisted how nice he was, what a wonderful father he was, what a great provider he’d been. But as much as it galled her to admit it, Karin had a point: if her marriage was so wonderful, why at two o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon was she sitting in a solicitor’s office in the city, trying to find out how a seemingly happily married woman went about getting a divorce?

‘Because I can’t live with him any more.’ Tears she’d been determined not to shed in this meeting were threatening now, and Isla blinked them back, expecting an irritated sigh from the well-groomed businesswoman that sat on the other side of the table. But instead Karin pushed over a box of tissues and poured another cup of water from the cooler as Isla did her best to regain her composure. ‘Because nothing I do or say seems to make a difference. We just don’t talk…’

‘Since Casey died?’

This time Isla didn’t even try to blink back her tears, they were coming thick and fast just at the mention of her son’s name—a name she ached to hear, a name that was curiously absent in her household, a name that brought a warning look from Sav every time she ventured it.

‘I know he misses him. I know that he’s devastated at what happened, but he won’t talk to me about it. He won’t talk to me about anything any more. It’s like living with a stranger.’

‘Look, I’m not one to knock back business.’ Karin gave a dry smile but her eyes were kind. ‘But it sounds to me as if there’s still a lot of love there. Have you thought about counselling?’ She watched Isla screw up her nose.

‘Sav doesn’t believe in it.’

‘But he’s a doctor,’ Karin responded. ‘Surely—’

‘It’s a case of do as I say, not as I do with Sav. Sure, he recommends it for his patients, and no doubt he believes in its merits, but he’s too damn proud and stubborn to even contemplate that counselling might help him.’

‘Have you been to see anyone?’

Isla nodded. ‘I don’t think I’d be here otherwise,’ she said with simple honesty. ‘It definitely helped at first.’

‘But not now?’

Isla shook her head as Karin let out a tiny sigh. ‘I’ve gone as far as I can on my own with this. Things really have to change at home. Have to change,’ she reiterated. ‘And I just can’t see any other way.’

‘Talk to him again, Isla. Tell him how close he is to losing—’

‘I’ve been trying to for over a year now,’ Isla gulped, ‘and I get nowhere. If it was just about me, then perhaps I could take it. But it’s affecting the twins, I know it is. As much as we try to act normal in front of them, they can feel the tension between us. They’ve been through so much already.’

‘A divorce isn’t an easy option,’ Karin pointed out. ‘No matter how gently you tread, this will affect them.’

‘I know.’ Isla nodded, closing her eyes in dread, appalled that it had come to this, appalled at what she was instigating. ‘But I’ve given it a lot of thought.’ She gave a painful laugh, utterly void of humour. ‘In fact, it’s all I’ve thought about. I honestly believe that in the long term this will be for the best. A new start, a clean break for all of us. Not the torture of the boys watching their parents’ marriage slowly fall apart, the unspoken rule that they can never say their brother’s name in front of their father. They miss him as much as we do, and Sav’s silence on the subject isn’t helping. It’s making it worse, so much worse than it has to be. It’s like a cancer invading every cell of our lives.’ She blew her nose loudly into the tissues, her head spinning as she tried to process all Karin had said about the mechanics of a divorce. Trying and failing to contemplate a future, however bleak the present might be, without Sav.

‘Have you given any thought to a trial separation?’ Karin suggested. ‘Say, three months apart…’

‘Sav wouldn’t hear of it.’ Instantly Isla shook her head. ‘If he even knew that I was here, it would be all over bar the shouting. It’s all or nothing with Sav, and frankly I don’t think it would be fair on the children, leaving them in limbo for three months. If I go ahead with this, it has to be a clean break.’

‘OK,’ Karin said slowly. ‘Then why don’t we schedule another appointment?’ The solicitor’s voice was calm and even, such a contrast to the swirling, confusing mass of emotions Isla seemed to be constantly engulfed in these days. ‘Say, for a month’s time?’

‘Why?’ Isla blinked back at the other woman. ‘What’s that going to solve? I didn’t come here on a whim, Karin.’

‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ Karin said sympathetically. ‘But we have gone over a lot of ground today, there’s a lot of information there for you to process. Think about it,’ she said firmly. ‘Think long and hard about it, and while you’re at it try talking to Sav again, tell him how close he is to the marriage ending.’

‘I thought you were a divorce lawyer…’ Isla managed a wobbly smile ‘…not a marriage counsellor.’

‘I’m a great divorce lawyer,’ Karin fixed her with a steely glare. ‘I fight for my clients to the last breath, but at the end of the day, I need them on my side.’ She gave a small shrug. ‘I’m just not quite sure that you’re there yet.’

‘I’m not,’ Isla admitted, raking a hand through her newly cut blonde hair and feeling foolish all of a sudden. ‘I’ve wasted your time—’ Isla started, but Karin waved her apology away.

‘Not at all, Isla. You’re the one paying for my advice, so take it. Go home, think about what I’ve said and try again to talk to Sav. If you still want to go ahead with a divorce, I’ll be here for you and more than ready to roll.’

‘Thank you.’

Karin stood up and shook her client’s hand. ‘But you will listen to what I’ve said and not go and do anything stupid, though?’

‘Like what?’ Isla frowned.

‘Like moving out and starting a job.’ She gave a low laugh. ‘Hair and nails and a figure like that don’t come cheap, Isla.’

Isla shook her head. ‘I do my own nails, Karin, and as for the figure, you’re right—it didn’t come cheap.’ She watched as the solicitor frowned. ‘Losing a child is the highest price anyone can pay.’ Opening the door to the office, she paused a moment. ‘This is my divorce, Karin. I’ll do it my way.’

Her bravado evaporated as soon as Isla stepped into the waiting room. Waiting in line at Reception behind an irate fair-headed gentleman who was insisting that he be seen next, furiously demanding an explanation for a summons he had received that morning, Isla felt as if she were drowning in her own misery, being pulled ever deeper into a circle of hate where she and Sav surely didn’t belong.

One month.

Amazingly it calmed her.

One month to get her life in order, one month to give her marriage yet another shot, one month to come to her decision.

CHAPTER ONE

‘WHAT did you do today?’

Cheeks flaming, Isla took another slug of water, every drop sticking in her throat as she attempted to eat the dinner she had hastily prepared for Sav and herself. Late picking the boys up from school, the whole evening had been a downward spiral of chaos, but thankfully Sav had been caught up at work, finally coming home late to a reasonable tidy house and a seemingly normal wife. The twins, delighted after their rare treat of take-away burgers and chips, were supposed to be in bed, but she could hear them bumping around upstairs and for once was grateful for it, grateful that Sav left the table to sort them out and didn’t seem to notice her discomfort.

‘I said they could read for ten more minutes.’ He didn’t come back to the table. Instead, he headed for the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine, pouring her a glass before sitting down.

‘Have one,’ she suggested, but Sav shook his head.

‘The hospital might call.’

‘You’re not on call tonight Sav,’ Isla pointed out, ‘and even if they do, surely you can have one glass with dinner.’

‘So, what did you do today?’ Sav asked again, ignoring what she had just said, and getting back to a subject she’d rather ignore.

‘Not much.’ Isla gave a vague shrug. ‘I had my hair done this morning.’

‘It looks nice,’ Sav responded, barely even looking up, and Isla managed a wry smile at the solicitor’s comments—this morning had been her first trip to the hairdresser’s in over a year, her long dark blonde hair finally meeting scissors for the first time since Casey’s death. The trim she’d intended before she started back to work had inadvertently turned into her own extreme make-over—her hair now hung in a sleek shoulder-length curtain and she’d taken the hairdresser’s advice and had a few foils put in. The hairdresser had raved at the result, and even the mums at the school had jumped up and down as Isla had stood blushing at the scrutiny but quietly pleased. But the one opinion that mattered, the one person she’d been hoping to impress, had scarcely even noticed.

‘What else?’

‘Not much.’ Isla blushed. A useless liar at the best of times, she wondered how some people managed to have affairs, managed to spend an afternoon making steamy, breathless love and somehow managing to arrive at the dinner table apparently normal. Her two trips to see Karin Jensen had been fraught with guilt—paying in cash, ringing them up to ensure they’d understood that no correspondence should be sent to the house. Even her parking ticket for the Art Centre in Melbourne had been carefully shredded.

Oh, God!

Another lurch of panic as she remembered her E-Tag, the tiny white box that Melburnians displayed on the dashboards of their cars, the tiny white box that bleeped as you went through the road tolls on the way to the city. If Sav looked at the bill he’d know she’d been there, would…

Taking another slug of wine, she ignored Sav’s slightly questioning glance as he topped up her glass, knowing he was undoubtedly confused. It normally took her the best part of an evening to work her way down a single glass, but here she was two minutes in and practically on her second!

He wouldn’t even look at the E-Tag account when it arrived, Isla consoled herself, and even if he did, as if he’d remember what had happened the previous month, as if he’d demand to know what the hell she’d been doing in the city that day. Sav wasn’t like that.

They trusted each other.

Tears pierced her eyes as she realized the incongruity of her thoughts.

Never in a million years would it enter his head that she’d been to see a solicitor today. That their marriage was nearly at the end of the line.

‘It suits you.’

‘Sorry?’ Blinking back at him, she tried to drag her mind back to the conversation but lost her way.

‘Your hair.’ He gave her a rare smile. ‘You’re upset that I didn’t notice you’d had it cut.’

‘I’m not!’

‘But I did notice,’ he carried on, ignoring her denial. ‘As soon as I came in I thought how nice it looked. I just forgot to say it.’

Which just about summed them up really, Isla thought sadly. ‘I picked up my uniforms from the hospital as well. I called in to see you but you were tied up with a patient. I told them not to disturb you.’

‘It’s been like that all day—all week, actually.’ Looking up, Isla could see the lines of tension grooved around his dark eyes as he spoke. His black hair, which to most people probably looked immaculate, by Sav’s high standards was probably overdue for a trim, and she realized how tired he looked—not the usual, it’s-been-a-long-day tired, but totally, completely exhausted. ‘I’d better get used to it, I guess. I’ve got Heath questioning my every move, taking great pains to point out every T I don’t cross or I that I don’t dot in an attempt to show how much better he’d have been for the consultant’s role, and with Martin not due back for another three weeks it’s going to be hell.’

The problems with Heath had been an ongoing saga since Sav had been made consultant. Sav and Heath had both applied for the consultant’s position eighteen months ago, and both of them had agreed at the time, ‘May the best man win.’ But when the position had gone to Sav, mainly due to the unspoken fact that Heath had been going through a messy divorce and custody issues, Heath had taken it in bad part, taking an almost morbid delight in pointing out how much better a choice he’d have been for the job when Sav had taken a month off after Casey’s death.

‘Hell!’ Sav added just for effect, and Isla knew that little tag had been aimed at her. It wasn’t just Heath that was getting to Sav. Isla had lived with him long enough to read between the lines. Taking a breath, she decided to voice what was clearly on his mind.

‘And me going back to work isn’t exactly going to help matters.’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Sav snapped.

‘No, but you thought it,’ Isla retorted, taking an angry sip of her wine. ‘You don’t start till nine, Sav. The boys’ uniforms will be out, I’ll give them their breakfast before I go. All you have to do is drop them off at school—it’s hardly a big deal.’

‘It is a big deal if you’re having a heart attack,’ Sav retorted, his Spanish accent deepening the angrier he got. ‘It’s one hell of a big deal if you’re lying there bleeding to death in Resuscitation and the only consultant covering the department is at home, babysitting his children.’

‘If that happens,’ Isla responded, trying desperately to keep her voice even, ‘then you’ll ring Louise. She’s only around the corner, she’s said that she’ll come straightaway. We’ve already worked this out!’

‘No, you worked it out, Isla. You’re the one who worked this whole harebrained scheme out, you’re the one who decided to make your grand return to nursing the one month in the year when you know Martin Elmes is on holiday.’

‘There was never going to be a good time for you, Sav,’ Isla retorted. ‘The simple fact of the matter is that you don’t want me to go back to work, least of all as a nurse in your department. You have this archaic belief that any wife of yours should be firmly entrenched at home.’

‘That’s not true.’ Sav shook his head, pushed away his half-eaten dinner then shook his head again. ‘The plan was that you were going to go back to work next year—’

‘No,’ Isla broke in, ‘the plan was, once the children were at school I’d start back at work.’ It was Isla pushing her plate away now, Isla who couldn’t face another morsel, Isla trying to raise another subject that was out of bounds. ‘And the children are at school now. It would have been next year if…’

He was standing up now, ready to stalk off to the study or the living room, to pick up the phone and ring the hospital and hopefully find out that he had to go in. And on any other night, Isla would have followed him in, finished what she was saying, tried to force the conversation, but tonight she let him go, tonight she just let him walk off, because quite simply she didn’t have the energy to scrape at the stony walls of silence he so forcibly erected.

Just couldn’t do this any more.

‘I’m going for a run after I’ve tidied the kitchen,’ she was shouting into the hallway as he stalked off, and Isla saw his shoulders stiffen, an almost questioning look on that inscrutable face as he turned around, her lack of response clearly not what he’d expected. ‘I’ll take my mobile. You can call me if the hospital rings and I’ll come straight back.’

Sav didn’t call. In fact, he didn’t even come out of the study when she arrived home a good hour later, and barely looked up when, drooping with exhaustion, she popped her head around the study door and said goodnight.

She should have fallen asleep. Only half an hour ago she’d barely been able to keep her eyes open, but the shower had woken her, her mind spinning with guilt as she lay in bed, scarcely able to fathom where she had been today, reeling in horror as she pictured Sav’s face if he ever found out, tears slipping into her hair as she imagined the devastation on Luke’s and Harry’s faces if they ever had to break it to them that Mummy and Daddy wouldn’t be living together any more.

‘Isla?’ Sav whispered it gently as he tiptoed into the bedroom and Isla recognized the low throaty, unvoiced question.

At first, when Casey had died, their love life had been put on hold. They had clung to each other through the long dark nights more out of fear than intimacy, guilt impinging on guilt whenever passion had taken over, as if somehow it had been wrong to feel pleasure, to indulge each other. But as their marriage had dissolved around them as the communication gates had slammed firmly closed, still, surprisingly perhaps, the passion had remained, the huge sexual attraction that had sparked on contact all those years ago still burning brightly, the one shining light in their marriage apart from the twins. It was the only time Sav let his guard down, the sweet, sweet release of their lovemaking almost addictive in its nature, everything else temporarily cast aside as passion took over.

But not tonight.

Yes, she was going to give her marriage all she had, but the physical side of it wasn’t the issue. The physical side of it was the only bit that didn’t need rescuing.

‘Isla.’ He said it again, and when she didn’t answer, Sav moved into the en suite and she lay there staring at his reflection in the dressing-table mirror, watching as Sav quietly undressed then leant over the sink to brush his teeth, the vivid raised scar on his back so red and angry it was easy to make out even from this distance.

How she longed to touch it, longed to run gentle fingers over it, to ask him how much it hurt, wincing as she imagined the gnarled metal from the car wreckage stabbing into his beautiful back, the intricate operation to remove it.

Closing her eyes as the light flicked off, she concentrated on keeping her breathing even, willed her hammering heart to slow down as he came across the room and pulled the sheet back, felt the indentation of the mattress as he climbed in. She waited for him to roll over, to turn his back to her, only he didn’t. This time a strong arm reached out in the darkness, his body spooning in beside her, his face burying itself in her hair and inhaling the unfamiliar citrus scent of the hairdresser’s shampoo. She could feel his arousal nudging into the backs of her thighs, his hand dusting over the curve of her bottom. She could feel the stirring of her own arousal somewhere deep inside, her body responding just as it always did, her nipples jutting to attention at the mere suggestion of his touch. And it hurt, physically hurt, not to respond, to lie there feigning sleep when every nerve, every pore screamed for his touch, when her mind begged for the balmy oblivion only Sav could bring. But she couldn’t do it, couldn’t make love to him given where she’d been today.

Couldn’t pretend any more, even for a little while, that everything was OK.

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU look nice, Mum!’ Luke, as blond and as sunny-natured as his mother had once been, smiled up from the table as Isla poured milk over his cereal, lisping the words through the huge gap where his four front teeth used to be.

‘It’s my new uniform,’ Isla answered, glancing down at the navy trousers and pale pink polo top, a far cry from the starched white dress that had been the order of the day seven years ago, the same white dress she’d worn on her occasional casual shift to keep her nursing registration up to date. And even though Luke was completely and utterly biased and thought that his mother, no matter how she looked, was absolutely gorgeous, this morning Isla half agreed with him.

She felt nice.

OK, the blonde silk curtain hadn’t survived her evening run and two showers, but she’d piled it high in a ponytail on her head, added a dash of rouge to her pale cheeks and, given it was her first day, had gone the whole hog and put on mascara and a slick of pale lipstick. The image that had greeted her when she’d stared in the mirror had for once been pleasing.

She looked thirty.

OK, most thirty-year-olds didn’t want to look thirty, but for Isla it was as if she’d knocked off a decade in one hit. The agony of the past months had left their mark. Her natural good looks seemed to have faded into the shadowy greys of grief—not that it had even entered her head as appearances were way down on her list of priorities when it was an effort just to breathe, a physical effort to prepare the twins’ lunches, to paint on a smile when she got up in the morning, the endless hours between four and seven when her grief was put on hold to give the twins the mother they needed. But finally, after all this time, despite the agony of her personal life the proverbial silver lining was if not shining through then glowing on the edges occasionally. The odd spontaneous laugh at something on television, even managing to listen without drifting off when her friend Louise banged on about the war against cellulite. Tiny milestones perhaps, but to Isla they were monumental—and now she was wearing make-up.

‘What do you think, Harry?’

Harry didn’t answer, his dark hair sticking up at all angles. He merely scowled into his cereal and carried on eating, a mini-version of his father in both looks and personality, though fortunately at this young age he was a lot easier to read than the larger version.

‘I’m only going to be working three days a week, Harry,’ Isla said, picking up her coffee cup and taking five minutes she really didn’t have this morning to sit down at the breakfast table. ‘Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays—and even on those days I’ll be finished in plenty of time to pick you up from school.’

‘But you’re not going to take us to school,’ Harry pointed out, managing somehow to load a simple statement with a hefty dose of guilt. Another wave of panic seemed to rush in. If even this small change to his routine was causing his little world to rock, what would it be like if—?

Not now!

Forcibly Isla pushed that thought out of her mind. There was enough to be dealt with this morning, without dwelling on the bigger picture.

‘But Daddy will take you!’ Isla responded in a falsely cheerful voice. ‘Won’t that be fun?’

‘Not if he has to go to work as well,’ Harry said accusingly. ‘Then we’ll have to go to Louise’s.’

‘You like going to Louise’s,’ Isla said, feeling as if her face might crack, and realizing suddenly that the words Daddy and Mummy were no longer in the twins’ vocabulary, another sign if she’d needed one that they were growing up fast.

‘I like going to Louise’s after school,’ Harry said with such a dry edge to his voice that Isla half expected Sav to look up from the cereal bowl. ‘I want you to take me.’

‘Harry, I can’t,’ Isla said firmly. ‘Because I have to work.’

‘Why?’

A perfect mum would have answered the eternal question, Isla thought, closing her eyes in exasperation. A perfect mum would have taken yet another five minutes out of an already rushed morning and come up with some impromptu speech about the merits of a work ethic, that even though they didn’t need the money, sick people still needed nurses and that even though Mummy loved him very much, Mummy had a brain that wasn’t quite stretched enough practising her serve at the local tennis club.

Only this perfect mum seemed to have hung up her apron strings, Isla thought darkly. How could she begin to explain to Harry the real truth? Not just about his parents’ marriage, but the long, lonely days rattling around a house that was too big, too empty without a little boy that should be getting ready to go to kinder now? Who could she tell, who would begin to understand the loneliness, the panic, the agony that gripped her when everyone had left? How she lay for 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, staring at the security photo for a moment, and Isla felt her breath catch in her throat as his fingers dusted over her chest, the sudden intimacy unfamiliar and unexpected. ‘You were Isla Howard last time we worked together. Isla Howard, a grad nurse with an attitude.’

‘And you were the visiting overseas registrar that the whole department promptly fell in love with.’

‘Good times,’ Sav said softly, and she nodded, dragging her eyes up to meet his.

‘Very.’ Isla gulped, terrified of saying the wrong thing, pushing too hard, not wanting this fragile moment to end, relishing this tiny, unexpected tender moment. But just as the past caught up, just as she glimpsed again the man she had once known, the shutters snapped closed, just the briefest of kisses brushing her cheek as he took a step back up the stairs. ‘You’d better go.’

‘Bye,’ Isla said quickly, darting out of the door, trying for both their sakes to escape the horrible gap in their conversation, the parting ritual that had fallen by the wayside fourteen months ago.

Drive safely.

They’d always said it, always hugged each other at the door as one of them had been leaving, whispered the words to whoever had been driving. But like so much else it was another thing out of bounds.

Sav, no doubt, felt he’d lost the right to say it, Isla thought as she climbed into her car and started the engine, and in turn how could she say it to him? Sav would take it as a warning, an accusation even.

It hadn’t been his fault.

None of this was anyone’s fault, Isla knew that, knew that, knew that!

She had told herself over and over and had begged, begged Sav to accept that fact.

‘The wrong place at the wrong time’ had been the coroner’s exact words.

No one could have foreseen, least of all Sav, that the car heading towards them had been a time bomb about to explode. Even the poor driver couldn’t have known that as he’d headed along the dual carriageway, the heart attack he’d been dreading since his last cholesterol check was about to ensue, that in a split second two families’ lives would impact with a force that was devastating.

That two families’ lives would be torn apart for ever.

She’d been playing tennis.

Trembling fingers pushed the key into the ignition as for the millionth time the day replayed itself in Isla’s mind, the engine idling as she relived the awful events that had brought her to this point.

Sav had taken a long overdue morning off so she could take an extra tennis lesson. Wow the ladies with her fabulous serve at the comp that weekend!

Had she really been that shallow?

Isla could still see the ball thudding onto the line, hear the kookaburra’s laughing in the treetops, feel the hot midmorning sun blazing on the back of her neck as the police car pulled up, a blue and white car out of place amongst the four-wheel-drives, a stir of interest rippling through the quiet suburban setting. She could feel her hand grip tighter on her racket as two officers got out, could still recall with total clarity the horrible shiver as someone pointed her out to them, taste the bile in her throat as they walked over, her legs dissolving as the news, however gently delivered, hit its mark. That while she’d been hitting a bloody ball over a net, her husband lay trapped in the mangled wreckage of his car, that even now, as strong hands guided her to the waiting vehicle the emergency teams were trying to extricate him.

‘Casey?’

The single question that no one would answer, the appalling wait in some hole of a room as the twins worked innocently on at school, pacing like a caged animal, desperate for answers but silently praying they wouldn’t come.

She could still hear her scream as the doctor came in, feel her friend Louise’s arms around her, even remembered feeling vaguely sorry for Louise that she’d had to arrive at that point, had to witness her friend literally collapse in a heap.

Checking her rear-view mirror as she pulled out of the driveway, Isla’s eyes fixed for a second as they always did on the empty seat, almost willing Casey’s cheeky smile to fill the mirror, for that permanently chocolate-covered mouth to blow her a kiss just as he always did.

Had.

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