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private Park Avenue practice, screen and choose his patients, patch them up and send them on their way.

      A practice where he could fix everything.

      Get in at nine.

      Do a good job.

      Be thanked.

      Go home at six.

      To what?

      ‘Incoming storm.’ As he walked along the corridor Jack was jolted out of his dark thoughts by the sound of a familiar voice.

      ‘Alex!’ He shook his colleague’s hand. ‘It’s good to see you—first day?’

      ‘It is.’ Alex nodded.

      ‘And?’

      ‘It’s going well,’ Alex said.

      They had trained together at medical school, where two very ambitious minds had met and had got on well from the start, both admiring the determination in the other—two men who had not settled for a pass mark, two men who had been determined to excel. Jack had chosen the speedier route of paediatrics, while Alex Rodriguez had chosen neurosurgery and had just been appointed head of that department at Angel’s.

      Jack had used his weight there too in employing his friend—Alex’s skills hadn’t been the issue, though, more a dark shadow on Alex’s past that the board had deliberated over. ‘I actually wanted to come and speak to you to say thank you for the recommendation.’

      ‘You didn’t need my recommendation,’ Jack said. ‘You were very impressive at the interviews—Angel’s wants you on board.’

      ‘Thanks.’ Alex was quiet for a moment. ‘And I am grateful to the board for agreeing not to bring up …’ His voice trailed off—Alex didn’t need to go into detail with Jack, there had been a messy court case in Los Angeles a few years ago that the board had finally agreed to keep confidential. Jack knew it had nearly destroyed Alex, and not just professionally. Still, Jack also knew that there was no one better for the role.

      ‘The past is the past.’

      ‘Yep.’ Alex wasn’t exactly known for small talk, but just as they were about to head off, Alex spoke on. ‘Everything okay with you, Jack?’

      ‘Me?’

      ‘Incoming storm.’ Alex’s smile was wry. ‘I could see it approaching as you walked towards me—it’s not the Jack I know.’

      ‘Yeah, well, you’ve been in Australia for five years. Maybe the Jack you used to know is getting older …’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’ve just sat through a case meeting with the most annoying social worker …’ Jack rolled his eyes. ‘You know the type.’

      ‘Holistic approach?’ Alex said, and Jack gave a reluctant smile. ‘With the right services in place …’ Alex put on his best social worker voice and Jack actually laughed. ‘They’re the same the world over. Still, can you imagine this job without them?’

      ‘No,’ Jack admitted. ‘Anyway, right now I’ve got to go and do some sweet-talking—there’s a VIP waiting for a private tour of Emergency.’ Jack’s words dripped sarcasm. ‘I can’t wait.’

      Maybe it wasn’t Social Services that was getting to him, maybe it was this place, or maybe, Jack thought as he saw a pair of red-stockinged, black-booted legs walking very briskly along the corridor, her pager trilling, with Security by her side, it was one social worker in particular.

      ‘Problem?’ Jack checked as she dashed past him, but she just gave him a very strange look at his question. Nina didn’t generally get fast-paged because things were going well in the world.

      And she had really hoped for Tommy and his father, Mike, that things were finally starting to go well.

      ‘Just stay back,’ Nina said to the security guards as they took the lift to the psychology wing. ‘Mike gets very angry at times, but it’s all hot air. I’ll tell you if I need you to intervene.’

      She was met by Linda, one of the most senior child psychologists. ‘I’ve got another worker in with them at the moment,’ Linda said, and then explained what had happened that morning. ‘Basically, I noticed Tommy had a nasty cut on his hand. It was covered by a bandage but it came off during play therapy and it looks infected. I think it should have had stitches, but when I suggested we bring Tommy down to Emergency to have it looked at, Mike refused. He got extremely angry and now he’s insisting on taking Tommy straight home.’

      ‘How’s Tommy?’

      ‘Pale …’ Linda said. ‘Listless. He’s lost weight too. I saw him just last month and everything seemed fine. Things have been going so well between them …’

      ‘I was hoping to close the case this week,’ Nina admitted. ‘Obviously with ongoing support for Tommy …’ She bit back on the expletive that was rising in her throat. She had been sure that things were so much better, had been sure there wasn’t a protective issue, and then she heard Mike shouting.

      ‘We’re going home.’ He had Tommy in his arms and was striding down the corridor. ‘Oh, not you!’ he shouted when he saw Nina. ‘Got your bodyguards with you?’

      ‘Mike.’ Nina was calm but firm. ‘Tommy needs to have that cut seen. If it’s infected, he will need—’

      ‘I’ll stop at the drug store on the way home.’ Mike didn’t let her finish, just marched on towards the lifts.

      ‘Mike …’ She walked alongside him, and as he jumped into a lift that was going up, Nina darted in and the doors closed before Security could get in too.

      Mike continued his angry rant, not caring that there was a family with a child in a wheelchair, not noticing Alex Rodriguez, who was in the lift and about to intervene. Nina glanced at his ID and realising he worked at Angel’s gave a brief shake of her head. In a confined space it might only make things worse.

      ‘We can talk properly down in Emergency,’ Nina said to Mike, because the last thing she wanted was Mike walking off in this mood with his son.

      ‘I’m sick of your talking!’ Mike shouted.

      ‘You’re scaring Tommy.’ She watched as Mike screwed up his face, watched as he tried to contain himself for his son, and thankfully Alex made sure everyone but himself got out at the next floor.

      She was grateful to Alex for sticking around while staying back as they walked briskly to Emergency, Security catching up just as they got to the entrance doors.

      It was a busy Monday morning in Emergency, Jack noted. He actually wanted to take off his suit jacket and pitch in, but instead he was stuck showing Elspeth Hillier around and telling her what her huge donation, in memory of her late husband, was earmarked for.

      ‘We’re hoping to have a supervised play area …’ Jack explained. ‘It would be used for the siblings of the patient or any child in the care of their guardian. Often the parent or carer arrives with two or three children in tow—naturally they want to be with their child throughout procedures and interviews, instead of having to take care of the other children until help arrives. The patient misses out on the comfort of the carer or, more often than not, the nurses end up babysitting.’

      ‘And it would be called …’ Elspeth asked.

      ‘We haven’t decided on a name yet,’ Jack said. ‘But certainly it would be something that honours the Hillier name.’

      ‘Not for me, of course,’ Elspeth said. ‘I just want Edgar to be remembered.’

      ‘Of course,’ Jack duly replied, though he was quite sure it wouldn’t be called the Edgar child-care centre or the Edgar Hillier child-care centre … He knew the routine only too well; he’d been raised on it after all.

      ‘So when will building commence?’ Elspeth asked, but Jack didn’t answer. He was distracted for a moment, not because of

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