The Surgeon's Family Wish. Abigail Gordon

before that he’d seen Annabel Swain coming from the direction of the accommodation blocks as he was parking his car and had sat watching her approach.

      As Lucy had recovered their brief affinity had dwindled. Almost as if it had been born only of the crisis and now that it was over they’d taken stock of each other and stepped back.

      It wasn’t exactly that on his part, but he had to admit that he might have given Annabel the impression that she’d served her purpose as far as he was concerned and that they were back on a footing of senior paediatrician and surgeon. It wasn’t the case, but now that his anxiety over Lucy was abating he was conscious that he had done nothing to further their acquaintance and she had saved his daughter’s life.

      And now here she was, hurrying along with a chill wind nipping at her ankles, snuggled inside a long winter coat, and still with the pallor that had concerned him when they’d first met.

      On the occasions they’d been together during Lucy’s stay in hospital he’d sensed melancholy in her and would have liked to have asked what was wrong, but had felt that he would be rebuffed if he did. After all they were strangers. Maybe if they’d met in the usual way of hospital staff, in a situation of a new member meeting a senior colleague and taking it from there, they would be easier with each other.

      But they had been thrown together on an October morning with himself in a state of great anxiety and Annabel having spent her first hours at Barnaby’s operating on his daughter. Consequently she now knew all about him, while he knew nothing of her, except that she was a cool and very competent surgeon.

      She was almost level and when she saw him getting out of the car she stopped and said, ‘Hello there. How’s little Lucy?’

      ‘Fine,’ he said smilingly. ‘And you?’

      ‘Me?’

      ‘Yes...you. How are you? It seems we haven’t spoken of anything other than hospital business.’

      ‘I’m all right, thank you.’

      He didn’t believe that, but now he saw an opportunity to get her out of that dreadful flat for a few hours.

      ‘We wondered if you’d like to come round for a meal one night,’ he said casually, and watched her eyes widen. ‘My mother thought it would be one way of saying thank you for what you did for Lucy.’

      So it wasn’t his idea, she thought as her pleasure at the invitation began to evaporate.

      ‘Thank you. That would be very nice,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t seem to have seen anything other than the flat, the operating theatre and the hospital grounds since I got here, but now that Mr Drury is back from his prolonged holiday and Mark Lafferty has also surfaced, I’m beginning to feel a little less pressured.’

      ‘Would Friday be OK?’ he asked, hoping that his mother hadn’t got anything planned, as she would be disappointed if she couldn’t be there.

      ‘Yes. I’m not on duty and have the weekend free, so there would be no problem.’

      ‘Good. Friday it is. Shall we say eight o’clock?’

      Annabel nodded.

      ‘Yes. Eight o’clock will be fine.’

      ‘I’ll pick you up, Annabel.’

      ‘There’s no need,’ she protested. ‘I have my car.’

      ‘Yes, I know, but I’ll come for you just the same. I don’t like to think of you driving around in the dark in a strange town.’

      She swallowed hard. It had been so long since anyone had cared whether she lived or died, it was nice to be fussed over for once.

      She smiled and Aaron thought again that she would be really something if she was happy and cared for. But he wasn’t going to be volunteering to bring about either of those conditions. He was content as he was with his mother and Lucy to cherish and a job he loved. He’d not forgotten his mother saying that she wasn’t getting any younger, but that sort of problem could be resolved by bringing in extra help around the house.

      He’d loved Eloise. She’d been an outgoing, bubbly blonde, curvy and petite. The woman standing beside him was her exact opposite. Tall, slender, too thin, in fact, with brown hair and eyes, and from what he’d seen so far, a restrained personality. So why did he have this curiosity regarding her?

      It wasn’t that intense, though, was it? It had taken him long enough to invite her to dinner. His mother would be surprised and pleased. She’d never mentioned inviting Annabel round after that first time but he’d sensed that the idea was still in her mind.

      Mary had loved her daughter-in-law, but it didn’t stop her from wanting happiness for him now, even though he’d made it clear that he wasn’t in the market for a second marriage. He could imagine Annabel’s expression if she knew that such an idea had entered his mother’s mind.

      ‘Right, then,’ she was saying. ‘If you’re going to pick me up, I’m in Flat Twelve on the ground floor.’

      ‘Ground floor?’ he echoed. ‘I hope there’s good security.’ And immediately felt that he was fussing.

      ‘Yes, plenty,’ she assured him, eyes widening in surprise. Then, with her glance switching to the big clock above the hospital entrance, she turned to go and with the thought of his outpatient clinic that was due to start shortly, Aaron did likewise.

      That was a bolt from the blue, Annabel thought as she took off her coat and hung it in her locker. An invitation to dine with Aaron Lewis and his family. It would be something to look forward to in her drab existence as she had to admit that he intrigued her.

      When they were in each other’s proximity she found her glance on him all the time, but she supposed that he had that effect on most women. He was one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen...and the least approachable from a personal point of view.

      Not workwise, though. With their small patients it was a different matter. They had that in common. Complete dedication to the children in their care. And while they were putting it into practice, the pain of what was not happening in the rest of her life was bearable.

      * * *

      The mark on the baby’s face was red, round and raised. There had been no sign of it at birth. It had appeared during the first few weeks of life and now covered a large area of his tiny cheek.

      Aaron recognised it immediately.

      ‘It is a kind of haemangioma,’ he told them, ‘an abnormal distribution of blood vessels, commonly known as a strawberry mark. They enlarge rapidly during the first few weeks after the baby is born and will persist for six months or so, but the good news is that after that time the mark will gradually disappear. They’re usually gone by the time the child is five but may take a little bit longer.’

      The young mother breathed a sign of thankfulness but the baby’s father wasn’t so easily satisfied.

      ‘And so what sort of treatment are you going to recommend?’

      ‘Strawberry naevi don’t usually require treatment,’ Aaron told him. ‘We would only remove it if the birthmark bleeds frequently, or if it is on the lip, tongue or genitals. It is done by laser treatment, but not recommended unless distress is being caused.’

      The beautiful baby boy was lying contentedly in his mother’s arms and Aaron said, ‘Your son doesn’t seem to be in any discomfort so I don’t advise surgery at present. But I would like to see him every three months, and if any problems do occur don’t hesitate to get back to me.’

      ‘And so we’ve got to put up with him looking like this for years,’ the father persisted.

      ‘Leave it, Peter,’ his wife said. ‘At least we know that the birthmark is going to go eventually, and I don’t want our baby to be operated on just to satisfy your male pride.’

      When