He shouldn’t have come to the conference. It’s the first lecture of the day and all he can think about is Lucy driving Kieron to the hospital. He wishes he were with her to support her. She’s not as strong as she believes. No one is infallible. He’s worried she’s falling apart again, but he doesn’t know whether he thinks this because he almost expects it. They have had such a lot to deal with this year. But it isn’t normal, putting the butter in the microwave, being so forgetful. Seeing a white car everywhere. Making coffee with cold water. Not realizing you’re wearing your top inside out. Standing in the garden in the pouring rain because she’s convinced someone has stolen the washing, that someone is after her. She’s a million miles away from the poised, polished Lucy he fell in love with. The stress is unravelling her and he has to be the one to hold her together. His arms ache to hold her, to stroke her hair and promise her that everything will be okay even if he doesn’t know how, or when. He shouldn’t be here.

His phone buzzes.

Her.

He didn’t meet her yesterday as she demanded. He hasn’t replied to her last few messages.

He opens this one.

Ignore me & you’ll be SORRY

Chapter Forty

Lucy

Our appointment with Dr Peters is over and I have not said the things I wanted to say, my carefully rehearsed questions stuck in my throat. I don’t want Kieron to hear the desperation in my voice.

Dr Peters holds open the door and ruffles Kieron’s hair as he walks back out into the waiting room.

‘I’ll be out in a minute, Kieron.’ I step back inside the room and look pointedly at the door until Mr Peters closes it. He wears a look of resignation. He knows what’s coming.

‘Rob.’ I meet his gaze, addressing him as a friend although I’m painfully aware we are not equal. He holds Kieron’s life in his hands.

‘Have you ever lost a patient?’ I open with.

‘Lucy—’

‘Please. Have you?’

‘Yes, but not a child. Kieron—’

‘We see it as doctors, death; we comfort the relatives and send them on their way and we may go home and dwell on them, for hours, days, weeks but ultimately our pain fades, we move on. There’s always another patient. But… for those families there is never another mother. Another father.’ I curl my nails into my palms, I will not cry. ‘There will never be another Kieron.’

‘I’m doing all I can.’

‘When you lose a patient you analyse everything you did, questioning if there was anything else you could have done. If you could perhaps have saved them if you’d tried something different. With Kieron, you could try something different.’