Emergency: Wife Lost and Found by Carol Marinelli Page A

at rest, except he couldn’t, because he was doing what she was begging him not to.
    ‘Look, I just need some space.’
    ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘No, you don’t. You need to come in with me so we can talk, James.’
    ‘No.’ He shook his head, because talking was the last thing he needed. How could he talk when he didn’tknow what to say, how could he talk when he didn’t even know how he felt?
    ‘Ellie, you’re a great girl…’
    She slapped his cheek and he took it, because she was a great girl and it had been, if not great then as close to it as he’d ever got in years, close enough to believe this might, possibly, just about be the one.
    ‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘Why would you throw it all away?’
    ‘It’s not you…’
    ‘No, it’s bloody Lorna.’
    ‘It isn’t Lorna,’ James attempted. ‘That’s long since over. She’s seeing someone.’
    ‘It is Lorna!’ Ellie said, wrenching open the car door. ‘After all she did, after the way she treated you, how could you—?’
    ‘I just need to get my head around things,’ James said.
    ‘And you can’t do that with me.’
    He looked at her then and wished it could be different, but he was honest to a fault—would never consider being unfaithful. Although he and Lorna were hardly going to tumble into bed, although he had absolutely no intention of getting involved with Lorna again, she was in his head, which meant he needed to sort that out. He couldn’t do that to Ellie. Wouldn’t do that to Ellie.
    ‘No, Ellie, I can’t do it with you. I’m sorry.’
    ‘So you should be.’
    She slammed out of the car and up her drive and James wanted to go after her, to tell her just how sorry he was again, except that wouldn’t be fair on her.
    As he drove off, he was angry—with Lorna.
    For coming back into his life just when it was sorted. For messing with his head again.
    He was driving past the hospital, thought of her up there in bed in those neon pyjamas, and not for a minute did he want their marriage back. It had been hell. In hindsight, Lorna had been right to walk out, to end it without excuse or argument.
    And yet, letting himself into his smart London town-house, he didn’t notice Ellie’s earrings on the bench or her jacket hanging up in the hall. Instead he went to the cupboard in his bedroom and took down the box he’d always meant to throw out, but never had, and sat on the bed staring at the wedding photos.
    She looked so beautiful staring up at him, her amber eyes shining with love. He could remember how he’d felt staring down at her—a mixture of pride and hope laced with certainty. Sure, in that moment that they would make it, that as rushed and as forced on them as this marriage had been, somehow they would be fine. And yet…
    They hadn’t even seen out the year.

Chapter Eight
    T HE TROUBLE WITH being a patient in a teaching hospital was the teaching!
    Oh, it was wonderful to have such excellent care, and as a doctor herself Lorna had stood plenty of times at a bedside and listened intently as the poor patient’s innards were discussed, prodded and poked. She too had always given an apologetic smile to the patient, but it was hell to be on the receiving end.
    Monday morning’s ward round seemed to go on for ever. Her warming, the extensive resuscitation were all discussed at length. The trauma consultant, Mr Braun, explained how her seat-belt injury and fractured ribs had been exacerbated by the cardiac massage and Lorna could understand now why she was so bruised and sore. The black hole where her brain had been was filling again, her independence returning. When a clumsy student prodded her abdomen, an intensely private Lorna wanted to weep. Then her scars were discussed.
    ‘Ruptured ectopic pregnancy.’ The student had done his homework well and read her notes.
    ‘What did they find when they operated?’
    ‘Adhesions from her appendectomy.’
    ‘What other gynaecological problems does Dr McClelland suffer