Wish Upon A Star. Sarah Morgan

far her daughter hadn’t shown any signs of tiring of that particular occupation but decided that the atmosphere around the breakfast table was already taut enough. ‘I can’t go back to the Lake District this Christmas,’ she said finally, and Katy lifted the toast to her lips.

      ‘Why not? Because you and Dad have had a row?’ She shrugged. ‘What’s new?’

      Christy bit her lip and reflected on the challenges of having a daughter who was growing up and saw too much. She picked up her coffee-cup, determined to be mature about the whole thing. ‘Katy, we didn’t—’

      ‘Yes, you did, but it’s hardly surprising, is it? He’s Spanish and you’re half-Irish with red hair. Uncle Pete says that makes for about as explosive combination as it’s possible to get. I suppose things might have been different if you’d been born a blonde.’ Katy chewed thoughtfully. ‘Amazing, really, that the two of you managed to get it together for long enough to produce us.’

      Christy choked on her coffee and made a mental note to have a sharp talk with her brother. ‘Katy, that’s enough.’

      ‘I’m just pointing out that the fact that you two can’t be in a room without trying to kill each other is no reason to keep us down here in London. We hate it, Mum. It’s great seeing Uncle Pete but a short visit is plenty. You hate it, too, I know you do.’

      Was it that obvious? ‘I have a job here.’ In the practice where her brother worked as a GP. And it was fine, she told herself firmly. Fine. Perfectly adequate. She was lucky to have it.

      ‘You’re a nurse, Mum. You can get a job anywhere.’

      Oh, to be a child again, when everything seemed so simple and straightforward. ‘Katy—’

      ‘Just for Christmas. Please? Don’t you miss Dad?’

      The knot was back in her stomach. Christy closed her eyes and saw dark, handsome features. An arrogant, possessive smile and a mouth that could bring her close to madness. Oh, yes. Oh, yes, she missed him dreadfully. And, at this distance, some of her anger had faded. But the hurt was still there. All right, so she’d been stupid but she wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t been so—so aggravating. ‘I can’t discuss my relationship with your father with you.’

      ‘I’m eleven,’ Katy reminded her. ‘I know about relationships. And I know that the two of you are stubborn.’

      He hadn’t contacted her. Pride mingled with pain and Christy pressed her lips together to stop a sob escaping. He was supposed to have followed her. Dragged her back. He was supposed to have fought for what they had. But he hadn’t even been in touch except when they made arrangements about the children. He didn’t care that she’d gone. The knowledge sat like a heavy weight in her heart and stomach. Suddenly she felt a ridiculous urge to confide in her child but she knew that she couldn’t do that, no matter how grown-up Katy seemed. ‘I can’t spend Christmas with your father.’

      She’d started this but she didn’t know how to finish it. He was supposed to have finished it. He was supposed to have come after her. That was why she’d left. To try and make him listen. ‘A wake-up call’, a marriage counsellor would probably call it.

      ‘If I have a row with one of my friends you always say, “Sit down, Katy, and discuss it like a grown-up.”’ Katy rolled her eyes, her imitation next to perfect. ‘And what do you do? You move to opposite ends of the country. Hardly a good example to set, is it?’

      Christy stiffened and decided that some discipline was called for. ‘I’m not sure I like your tone.’

      ‘And I’m not sure I like being the product of a broken home.’ Katy finished her toast and took a sip from her glass of milk. ‘Goodness knows what it will do to me. You read about it every day in the papers. There’s a strong chance I’m going to go off the rails. Theft. Pregnancy—’

      Christy banged her cup down onto the table. ‘What do you know about pregnancy?’

      Katy shot her a pitying look. ‘Oh, get a life, Mum. I know plenty.’

      ‘You do?’ She just wasn’t ready to handle this stage of child development on her own, Christy thought weakly. She needed Alessandro. She needed—

      Oh, help…

      ‘And don’t write to him. Ring him up.’ Katy glanced at the clock and stood up, ponytail swinging. ‘We’d better go or we’ll be late. The traffic never moves in this awful place. I’ve never spent so many hours standing still in my whole life and I don’t think I can stand it any more. I’ll ring him if you’re too cowardly.’

      ‘I’m not cowardly.’ Or maybe she was. He hadn’t rung her. Gorgeous, sexy Alessandro, who was always wrapped up in his job or his role on the mountain rescue team, always the object of a million women’s fantasies. Once she’d been wrapped up in the same things but then the children had come and somehow she’d been left behind…

      And he didn’t notice her any more. He didn’t have time for their relationship. For her.

      ‘Ben’s upstairs, crying. I’m here eating far too much sugar and you’re ingesting a lethal dose of caffeine,’ Katy said dramatically as she walked to the door, her performance worthy of the London stage. ‘We’re a family in crisis. We need our father or goodness knows what might happen to us.’

      Christy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘You haven’t finished your milk,’ she said wearily. ‘All right, I’ll talk to him. See what he says.’

      It would be just for the festive season, she told herself. The children shouldn’t suffer because of her stupidity and Alessandro’s arrogant, stubborn nature.

      ‘Really?’

      ‘Really.’

      ‘Yay!’ Katy punched the air, her ponytail swinging. ‘We’re going back to the Lake District for Christmas. Snow. Rain. Howling winds. I’ll see my old friends. My phone bill will plummet. Thanks Mum, you’re the best.’

      As she danced out of the room, no doubt en route to pass the joyful news on to her brother, Christy felt her stomach sink down to her ankles. Now all she had to do was summon the courage to phone Alessandro and tell him that they were planning to return home for Christmas. How on earth was she going to do that?

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘EMERGENCY on its way in, Mr Garcia.’ The pretty nurse stuck her head round the office door. ‘You’re needed in Resus.’

      Alessandro dropped the report on staffing that he was reading and wondered how many times a day he heard that statement. He was always needed in Resus. Sometimes he felt as though he lived in Resus. Particularly at the moment when almost forty per cent of the staff were off with flu.

      He strode out of his office, nodded to one of the A and E sisters who hurried past him, looking harassed, and shouldered his way through the double doors into Resus.

      Chaos reigned.

      ‘She’s bleeding from somewhere, we need to find out where.’ Billy, one of the casualty officers, was trying to direct operations and he looked up with a sigh of relief as Alessandro appeared by the side of the trolley. ‘Oh, Mr Garcia. Thank goodness. Dr Nicholson is already tied up with that climbing accident and—’

      ‘What’s the story?’ Alessandro cut him off and Billy sucked in a breath.

      ‘Her husband brought her in by car. She was complaining of abdominal pain all night and he was driving quickly in an attempt to get her here and took the car into the ditch.’ Clearly out of his comfort zone, he dragged a hand through his hair, leaving it more untidy than ever. ‘She’s had a bang on her head and her obs suggests that she’s bleeding but we don’t know where from.’

      Alessandro took the gloves that a nurse was holding out to him and made a mental note to speak to Billy about the quality of his handover