The Sicilian Doctor's Proposal. Sarah Morgan

from Gio.

      ‘How old is the baby?’ There was something about the woman that was worrying him. He didn’t know her, of course, which didn’t help, but still…

      ‘She’ll be seven weeks tomorrow.’ Harriet jiggled the baby in her arms in an attempt to keep her calm.

      ‘It can be very hard. My sister had her third child two months ago,’ Gio said, keeping his tone casual, ‘and she’s certainly struggling. If the baby keeps crying, bring her to see me. Maybe there’s something we can do to help.’

      ‘Dr Moretti has taken over from Dr Watts,’ Mary explained, and Harriet nodded.

      ‘OK. Thanks. I’d better be getting back home. She needs feeding.’

      ‘I can make you comfortable in a room here,’ Mary offered, but the woman shook her head and walked towards the door, juggling pram and baby.

      ‘I’d better get home. I’ve got beds to change and washing to put out.’ She called to the boys, who ignored her. ‘Come on!’ They still ignored her and she gave a growl of exasperation and strapped the baby back in the pram. Libby immediately started crying again. ‘Yes, I know, I know! I’m getting you home right now!’ She glared at the twins. ‘If you don’t come now I’m leaving you both here.’ Her voice rose slightly and she reached out and grabbed the nearest boy by the arm. ‘Do as you’re told.’

      They left the surgery, boys arguing, baby crying. Mary stared after them, her fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the desk. ‘I don’t like the look of that.’

      ‘No.’ Gio was in full agreement. There had been something about the young mother that had tugged at him. ‘She looked stretched out. At her limit.’

      Mary looked at him. ‘You think there’s something wrong with the baby?’

      ‘No. I think there’s something wrong with the mother, but I didn’t want to get into a conversation that personal with a woman I don’t know in the reception area. A conversation like that requires sensitivity. One wrong word and she would have run.’

      ‘Finally. A man who thinks before he speaks…’ Mary gave a sigh of approval and glanced up as Alice walked out of her consulting room, juggling two empty coffee-cups and an armful of notes.

      She looked even paler than she had that morning, Gio noted, but perhaps that was hardly surprising. She’d been working flat out all day with no break.

      ‘Did I hear a baby screaming?’ She deposited the notes on the desk.

      ‘Libby York.’ Mary turned her head and stared through the glass door into the street where Harriet was still struggling with the boys. As they disappeared round the corner, she turned back with a sigh. ‘You were great, Dr Moretti. Any time you want to soothe my nerves with a short spurt of Italian, don’t let me stop you.’

      Gio gave an apologetic shrug. ‘My English doesn’t run to baby talk.’

      Alice frowned, her mind focused on the job. ‘Why was Harriet in here?’

      ‘Picking up a repeat prescription for her husband.’ Mary’s mouth tightened and her eyes suddenly clouded with worry. ‘I knew that girl when she was in primary school. The smile never left her face. Look at her now and her face is grim. As if she’s holding it together by a thread. As if every moment is an effort. If you ask me, she’s close to the edge.’

      ‘She has three children under the age of six. Twin boys of five. It’s the summer holidays so she has them at home all day.’ Alice frowned slightly. Considered. ‘That’s hard work by anyone’s standards. Her husband is a fisherman so he works pretty long hours. Her mother died a month before the baby was born and there’s no other family on the scene that I’m aware of. On top of that her delivery was difficult and she had a significant post-partum haemorrhage. She had her postnatal check at the hospital with the consultant.’