LITMIR.BIZ

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wasn’t some weird kind of hallucination.

      But she didn’t have the right to touch him. Not any more. For all she knew, he could be married.

       With a child.

      The pain at that thought was so intense that she nearly gasped out loud. Then anger bubbled up to block out the pain. What the hell was he doing here? There were plenty of other hospitals in the world. Why did Max have to muscle into hers, push his way back into her life?

      Max’s face was completely unreadable. She had no idea what he was thinking, or whether he was filled with the same confusing mixture of pain, anger and longing that she was.

      He glanced at Marina’s name-badge before turning to the woman who’d been yelling at her; when he spoke, his voice was clipped, and made it very clear that he was in charge. ‘You’re disturbing the other patients. I suggest you leave, so Dr Petrelli can concentrate on treating her patient—or do I need to call security to escort you out?’

      The woman curled her lip at him and continued to chew gum loudly. ‘It’s all wrong, that lot coming over here and taking jobs off English people.’

      ‘Not that it’s any of your business,’ Max said, ‘but Dr Petrelli is as English as you are. And, even if she wasn’t, this department operates a zero-tolerance policy. Our staff have the right to do their job without abuse.’

      ‘I know my rights,’ Ms Gum-Chewer said, folding her arms. ‘And you’re not getting away with bullying me.’

      ‘The way you’re bullying my staff, you mean? Three seconds and I’ll be calling security to escort you out. Or you can step outside and let Dr Petrelli treat your friend without interruptions. Your choice.’ He gave her an implacable stare. ‘One…two…’

      ‘I’ll be just out here, Ally. And you make sure she treats you properly.’ The gum-chewing woman sniffed loudly and stalked out of the cubicle.

      Grumbling, and with a last, hostile look at Marina, the woman left the cubicle.

      Marina still hadn’t got over the fact that Max had called her his staff.

      Ha; she’d stopped being his anything a long time ago.

      ‘May I have a word?’ Max looked at Marina and gestured to the cubicle curtain.

      ‘Excuse me, Mrs Marshall,’ Marina said to her patient. ‘I’ll be back in just a moment.’

      Max closed the curtain behind them. ‘Are you all right?’

      His voice was formal and polite. How different it had been when they’d first met. She’d been a fresh-faced graduate in her first job as a pre-registered house officer. Everyone had been rushed off their feet on the first day, and Max had introduced himself swiftly in the five-minute break she’d managed to take, before giving her half a chocolate bar to keep her going, along with a cup of lukewarm coffee that she could gulp straight down. His warm, open smile had turned her weak at the knees, and she’d discovered that love at first sight wasn’t a myth at all. She’d fallen dizzily, headlong in love with Max Fenton within seconds of meeting him.

      But a lot had happened in those five years. And, given their shared past, and the fact that they were clearly going to have to work together, polite, formal and distant was definitely the best way forward.

      She glanced at his name-badge again to check his rank and what she should call him. ‘Senior registrar’: so he was the guy who’d taken over from Ed. Still ‘doctor’ rather than ‘mister’, then. Odd, because he’d been so focused on his career that she’d expected him to make consultant at a scarily young age. ‘I’m fine, thank you, Dr Fenton.’

      That was a complete lie. Seeing him again had made her feel as if she’d just ridden an enormous rollercoaster—at double speed, and sitting backwards. She managed to pull herself together. Just. ‘Thank you for coming to my rescue.’

      ‘Not a problem.’ He gave her an equally cool nod. ‘I’ll let you get back to your patient.’

      ‘I’m really sorry,’ the woman on the bed said when Marina returned to the cubicle. She bit her lip. ‘Claire’s really kind-hearted.’

      Maybe, on her own terms; Marina forbore to comment.

      ‘It’s just that sometimes she can come on a bit strong.’

      That was putting it mildly, but it wasn’t Mrs Marshall’s fault that her friend was so overbearing. ‘I’ve had worse—you should see the bad-tempered drunks who end up in here on a Friday night,’ Marina said with a smile, wanting to put her patient at her ease. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

      ‘It’s because her husband always looks at your bit in the paper on a Wednesday—he fancies you something rotten,’ Mrs Marshall confided.

      ‘I’m very flattered,’ Marina said, ‘But your friend really doesn’t have anything to worry about.’ Even if she had been in the market for a relationship—and right now life was too complicated for her to cope with dating someone—she only ever went out with single men.

      ‘I’ve told her how much Stewie loves her, but she’s convinced he’s going to look elsewhere because of her weight.’ Mrs Marshall sighed and shook her head. ‘She’s trying so hard to make herself look good for him. She put on three stone when she stopped smoking. That’s why she chews gum all the time—to stop herself going back on the ciggies.’

      Marina knew that people with low self-esteem often lashed out at others as a way of making themselves feel better. Though it still hurt when you were the one they decided to pick on. ‘She’s done the right thing for her health, giving up the cigarettes. But we really should talk about you rather than your friend,’ she said gently. ‘I think you’ve broken your wrist, Mrs Marshall. From what you’ve told me about the way you landed, and the way your wrist looks, I think you have what’s called a Colles’ fracture. I’m going to give you some pain relief to make you more comfortable, then send you for an X-ray. When I’ve had a look at your X-ray and I’m happy that everything’s straightforward, I’ll put a temporary plaster on your wrist to keep it stable until the fracture clinic can see you.’

      ‘You mean I’m going to be in plaster?’ Mrs Marshall looked shocked.

      ‘Modern casts are really lightweight,’ Marina reassured her. ‘But, yes, you’ll need a cast for a few weeks, while your wrist heals.’

      ‘Will I be able to go back to work?’

      ‘It depends what you do for a living. If you use that hand a lot, then it’s a good idea to have some time off to let your wrist heal properly. And I’d definitely say no lifting or carrying.’

      Mrs Marshall looked upset. ‘I don’t get paid if I don’t work.’

      ‘But if you go back too early, and put too much weight on the fracture, there’s a strong chance you’ll make it worse and you’ll be off work for even longer,’ Marina said gently. ‘I know it’s not going to make you feel much better, but you’re the fourth patient I’ve seen today with a Colles’ fracture. When it’s icy like this, no end of people slip, put their hands out to save themselves and end up breaking their wrists.’

      She gave Mrs Marshall some painkillers, then directed her to X-ray. ‘Come back when you’ve had the X-ray and I’ll finish treating you,’ she said with a smile.

      Max grabbed a file and started to read his next patient’s notes, needing a couple of minutes to get himself back under control. When he’d heard someone shouting in the cubicles, and realised that someone was haranguing one of his colleagues, he’d instinctively gone to the rescue.

      What he hadn’t expected was to see his ex-wife standing there.

      He’d had no idea that Marina even worked at the London Victoria, so he hadn’t been prepared to face her again. It was a double shock to see her again for the first time in four years.

      She

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