Victoir’s assumed authority. What choice had she had? But his authority was starting to grate and grate badly. Surely she paid this man’s wages?
She didn’t know how much. By the look of his clothing and the gold rings on his flaccid fingers, a lot. She’d spent her short time here trying to come to terms with the vastness of her inheritance. Should she stay a few more days and check staff ledgers? She could do that as she lay on her day bed while the staff in question catered to her every whim, she thought, and then she grimaced. The only appealing part of that right now was the day bed.
‘You need to remember you’ve been injured yourself.’
That was what Leo had said and there had been gentleness in his tone.
Of course there had. She was his patient. His gentleness meant nothing.
She’d been judged ten years ago and he’d walked away. How much deeper would that judgement be now that she’d inherited?
‘Can you get that ambulance out of the way?’ Victoir called, power loading every word. And to Anna’s disgust, the paramedic left the old lady’s trolley where it was, and went to move the ambulance.
‘You’ll look after your patient first,’ she called, and Victoir’s authority was nothing compared to the power she put behind her words. Wow. Where had that come from? Was it the doctor in Anna, or was it the first stirrings of the long line of autocratic Castlavarans in her genetics? Regardless, her words held the weight of ancestry, plus a huge loading of a doctor accustomed to sorting chaos in the midst of medical emergency. It forced all those around her to go still.
The paramedic, the woman about to climb back into the driver’s seat, looked at her with doubt. Anna might sound authoritative but she surely couldn’t look it. Jeans, T-shirt, bandaged head. What remained of her copper curls tumbling every which way. No make-up. Compared to Victoir she looked a nothing.
But this was a test she needed to pass. Victoir was looking at her as if she’d passed the boundaries of what was permitted. Up until now he’d set the guidelines. He’d made it easy for her to follow his lead, impossible for her to do anything else.
Impossible had to start somewhere. Victoir was invoking the family name? So could she.
‘I’m Anna Castlavara and we wait until the needs of patients have been met,’ she said. ‘Your patient’s care takes precedence over my needs.’
‘We’ve waited long enough,’ Victoir snapped. ‘These people—’
‘These people are Tovahnans, just like me,’ she said. ‘What’s best for them is best for me. And what I say goes.’
And she seated herself—firmly—in the rear of the limousine and prepared to wait.
But what she hoped Victoir didn’t see was that she sat not because she needed to but because her knees were shaking.
What was she letting herself in for?
And then she glanced out of the window of the car and there was Leo. He was striding out to check on the new patient being admitted.
He’d paused like everyone else.
He’d heard.
So what? She turned away, putting her hands to her cheeks to try and subdue the slow burn spreading across her cheeks. Her knees were still trembling.
She needed that day bed.
She needed space.
She needed to get home to England.
The evacuation team was delayed and delayed again. It happened. Neighbouring countries assisted as they could, but their own emergencies took precedence over Tovahna’s. Finally, though, and before evacuation took place, Carla regained consciousness.
It was six at night. She’d been unconscious for almost ten hours. She was confused, her speech was a little blurred and she wasn’t sure what was happening or why, but she recognised Leo. She recognised Maria. Her vision seemed only slightly impaired. Her fingers and toes worked, albeit with a struggle.
‘What…what…? Tell me what’s happened.’
The spectre of unimaginable brain damage faded. It was so much more than Leo had dared hope that it was all he could do to hold back tears.
Maria couldn’t. She sobbed, openly. ‘Oh, Carla, we’ve been so frightened. You nearly died. And the Castlavaran, Anna, had to help save you.’
‘The Castlavaran…’ Carla managed. ‘What…? Tell me…’
So Leo sat beside her and held her hand and told her. He wasn’t sure if she took it all in. You didn’t suffer a bleed on the brain without some repercussions, he thought, but her state of awareness now was a huge promise of a short rehabilitation and total recovery.
‘Do you remember banging your head?’ he asked, and she looked blank.
‘The Castlavaran, Anna, banged her head.’
She was remembering. Better and better.
‘She did.’
‘And you’re dating her.’
Hell. ‘I’m not.’
‘I remember—’
‘Carla…’
‘That would be so wonderful.’
And there was no response to that. Carla’s eyes were closing. With the amount of drugs on board, the battering her brain had taken, her body was demanding sleep.
But it was sleep, not lack of consciousness. What a gift.
‘Thanks to Anna,’ Maria whispered. ‘We need to let her know.’
‘I’ll see to it,’ he said, and he left Maria watching Carla like a mother hen with her favourite chick.
We need to let her know…
He had Anna’s number. He should simply ask the receptionist to ring a message through.
But before he could do anything he was hailed from down the corridor by two young men. One was Ben, Carla’s son, who he guessed had hitched a ride in with the evacuation team from Italy. The other was Bruno, the nurse-practitioner. The evacuation team was behind them, signing in at Reception.
He hadn’t realised how tired he was until he saw them. An almost-doctor to share his load. A son to take over his love for Carla and to accompany her on evacuation. Trained paramedics to take Carla to a world-class neurologist.
‘You look like a car crash.’ Bruno’s voice was filled with concern. ‘I came as soon as I could. And here’s Ben to be with his mother. Tell us the worst, Leo.’
But it wasn’t the worst. He felt himself growing even lighter.
‘There’s every reason to think she’ll make a full recovery,’ he told them. ‘She’ll need full neurological assessment but now…the real concern is how she came to have the bleed in the first place.’
‘I can tell you that,’ Ben said grimly. ‘When I rang her last night she said she’d had a headache, then hit her head on the open bathroom cabinet and made it worse. She was making light of it but I could tell she was rattled.’
‘But she still came to work this morning.’ Hell. They were so short-staffed. Carla would have come to work with more than a sore head.
He might have done the same.
‘I’ll be having words with her,’ Ben growled. ‘I know she’s popping aspirin for her arthritis. Once she’s evacuated to Italy I’ll insist on some enforced R&R, and have her visit an arthritis specialist while she’s there.’ He coloured. ‘I have the money to afford it.’