know. He thinks marriage sucks.’
Stella blinked. ‘Are you supposed to use that word?’
‘Probably not, but I know you won’t tell.’ Alfred slid off the chair. ‘If you don’t want to marry Uncle Dan, you could always marry my dad. Then you could cook the turkey. And be my mum. That would be cool.’
‘Being your mum would be cool,’ Stella agreed, closing her laptop. ‘But unfortunately your dad and I don’t love each other. Not in that way. And people who get married should love each other.’
‘You’d have to have sex, and I guess that would be gross.’
Stella gulped. ‘Alfie!’ she floundered, not sure how to respond, but Alfie had already moved on.
‘What’s his name? This guy you’re meeting?’
‘Edward.’
Alfie wrinkled his nose. ‘I don’t like that name.’
‘It’s just a name, Alfie.’
‘Does he drive a cool sports car like Uncle Dan?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Is he in the mountain rescue team like Dad and Uncle Dan?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘I’m going to be in the mountain rescue team when I’m old enough. I think it’s so great, going out into the mountains to save people. You get to slide down ropes and sometimes go in a helicopter. I’m going to get muscles like Dad and Uncle Dan.’
Dismissing a disturbing mental image of Daniel’s muscular physique, Stella gave a weak smile. ‘I’m sure you will.’
‘Last winter he went all the way to South America and climbed a mountain no one else has ever climbed. How cool is that?’
‘Pretty cool.’
‘Does your guy climb?’
Stella took a deep breath. ‘He isn’t my guy and, no, he doesn’t climb.’
‘He sounds a lot different from Uncle Dan.’ ‘Yes,’ Stella said breezily. ‘He is.’
She was counting on it.
CHAPTER THREE
THE weather grew colder still and the emergency department was busier than ever.
Which was good, Stella reminded herself as she worked her third double shift with no break, because work took her mind off Daniel.
‘I’ve never had a headache like it,’ the woman moaned, holding her head as Stella checked her blood pressure. ‘It feels as though someone is splitting my skull with an axe. We saw the GP yesterday and he said that we’ve all picked up this virus that’s going around, but today when I woke up I felt so bad I was scared I was having a stroke or something.’
‘The whole family has had the same bug?’
‘My husband John has been really sick, but he had the headache, too. And the kids feel rough. They’re supposed to be doing nativity plays and Christmas parties but they’re too ill to be excited about anything. I left them sleeping this morning. Billy wouldn’t even wake up when I went to tell him I was coming here and he’s usually the first one up in the morning.’
‘He wouldn’t wake up?’ Stella recorded the woman’s blood pressure, but something in the patient’s story made her uneasy. ‘Are you sure? Did you try waking him?’
‘Yes. This bug has totally wiped him out, poor thing.’
Stella looked at her for a moment, a suspicion forming in her mind. ‘And your husband?’
‘He was asleep, too. I wanted him to drive me here,’ Diana muttered, ‘but I couldn’t even rouse him so I had to catch the bus. Still, I suppose he needed the rest after being sick yesterday.’
‘Perhaps.’ Stella glanced at the clock. ‘What time did you leave the house?’
‘An hour ago. Eight o’clock.’
‘Right. Just wait there—I’m going to ask a doctor to take a look at you.’ She hurried out of the cubicle and bumped straight into Daniel.
His fingers closed over her arms, steadying her. ‘What’s the rush? Or have you suddenly realised that there’s only another twelve shopping days until Christmas?’
Stella didn’t laugh, partly because she was too conscious of his hands on her body and partly because she was still distracted by her patient. ‘I have a woman in cubicle 2 complaining of a severe headache.’ She pulled away from him, alarmed that even when she was talking to him as a doctor, she was still aware of him as a man. ‘The whole family is down with a virus.’
‘And?’ His gaze lingered on her face, dropped to her mouth. ‘What are you thinking?’
That she must have been crazy to think she would ever get over Daniel. ‘I’m thinking that it might not be a virus.’ Yanking her mind back to her work, Stella gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘I’m probably overreacting.’
‘I’ve never known you overreact.’ His voice was soft. ‘I have known you see things other people miss.’
Stella was silenced by the praise. Thrown, it took her a moment to focus. ‘She’s had this headache for a while,’ she croaked, looking past him down the corridor rather than at his face. ‘Yesterday her husband and the kids were sick—’
‘They saw their GP?’
‘Yes, and he said virus. Gastroenteritis.’
‘Sounds reasonable. There’s plenty of it going around.’
‘Yes.’ Stella rubbed her fingers over her forehead and sighed. ‘I’m definitely overreacting. If one member of the family has it then it’s perfectly reasonable for the whole family to go down.’
Daniel’s gaze was fixed on her face. ‘Why are you worried?’
‘Because when she left the house this morning she couldn’t wake her kids or her husband. She thought they were just tired, but—’
‘Are you telling me you think it might be carbon monoxide poisoning?’
‘I hope not. I—I’m sure it isn’t,’ Stella stammered, suddenly feeling foolish. ‘If it was just her husband who was tired, I wouldn’t have been worried, but it’s a bit odd not being able to wake a child who is normally bouncing around thinking of Christmas, don’t you think?’
‘How hard did she try?’
‘I don’t know.’ Stella waved her hand. ‘Will you take a look at her? See what you think? If there’s a chance I might be right, we should call the police and the paramedics.’ It occurred to her that she trusted his judgement implicitly. Whatever their differences, she’d never doubted his abilities as a doctor.
Daniel stared at her for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Then he turned and strode into the cubicle. ‘Diane? I’m Daniel Buchannan, one of the consultants here. Tell me about your headache.’ He questioned the woman as he examined her, his eyes sharp and attentive as he listened to the history and took some blood samples. ‘And the other members of you family had nausea, vomiting and headache?’
‘Yes,’ she groaned, closing her eyes. ‘I did wonder if it was something we’d eaten, but the GP said there is a gastric bug going around.’
‘Her sats are fine,’ Stella murmured, looking at the monitor.
‘The saturation level equals the sum of oxyhaemaglobin and carboxyhaemoglobin, so it’s unreliable. It isn’t going to tell us what we want to know,’ Daniel murmured. ‘I want to give her the highest concentration of oxygen possible—use