The Christmas Express!

‘The bottom line,’ Charlotte continued quietly, ‘is that our job is about the people who come under our care. Bernie was a miracle. But if he hadn’t made it, that resus scene in my ED could have been denounced as unnecessary mutilation. We couldn’t know how it would go before we started but is it just a coin toss?’

Charlotte was looking around the room. Nico was waiting for her gaze to cross his. He was oddly disappointed when it didn’t.

‘No.’ She answered her own question. ‘That’s what our chosen specialty is all about. Working towards being the best we can be in our field of expertise. Knowing when there’s a choice that pulling out the big guns is going to make the difference between life and death.’

Nico saw Charlotte take a deep breath. She was wrapping up now and the unusual introduction had clearly been a huge success. Everybody was leaning forward, totally engrossed and eager to participate in the programme that was about to start.

He felt the same way so how on earth could he be distracted by the way that deep breath pushed Charlotte’s breasts against the material of the plain blouse she wore under that tailored jacket? The way a hint of cleavage struggled to appear over the top button. Good grief. She was so buttoned up with that hairstyle and the fitted clothes she wore, it was almost as if she was trying not to look remotely feminine.

Maybe she was batting for the other team. Nico tucked the thought away with satisfaction. That would explain a lot. Maybe she had been trying to deny her true preference when he’d seen her out with that man in The Cosmopolitan Club all those years ago. And even if she was now comfortable with who she was, in her position Charlotte probably wouldn’t want to come out of the closet and travel in the company of her girlfriend. Or wife, perhaps. It was none of his business and it didn’t bother him.

So why did that curious feeling of disappointment in not making eye contact with her a second ago suddenly deepen several notches?

‘The papers you are going to be privileged to hear today are from invited speakers who are leading their particular fields. I’m looking forward to hearing the discussions that will follow the presentations. Again, I must apologise for my unorthodox keynote speech but, on behalf of Dr Richard Campbell, our chairman for today, and the others involved in organising this satellite session, let me welcome you to our symposium on critical interventions.’

Nico joined the round of applause. His neighbour leaned sideways to say something about how moving the story had been and how good it was to be reminded of the human aspects of their science. But Nico merely murmured agreement. He couldn’t take his eyes off Charlotte. As if she felt his intense gaze, she looked up from her position at the front of the room.

So there, her gaze seemed to say. I did it—even if you did do your best to stop me.

After the awkward start to the day things were running smoothly. Richard was delighted. He smiled at Charlotte as they were preparing to follow the others out of the conference room for the lunch break.

‘Do you know, I think your introduction has allowed for some very interesting questions to be raised that people might not have considered appropriate otherwise. You’ve given this whole forum an informality that has brought people closer together. It was a stroke of brilliance.’

‘Thanks.’ Charlotte rubbed the back of her neck, trying to ease the tension that still hadn’t gone away completely. ‘It could have taken things in the opposite direction. I was lucky.’

‘I think everyone was impressed.’

Had Nicholas Moretti been impressed? And why did it matter so much that he had been?

‘I’m sure they’ll want to tell you that themselves, over lunch.’

Charlotte wasn’t at all sure she wanted that to happen. She might be used to talking to colleagues while balancing a plate of food and eating but the idea of doing that in Nico’s company seemed disturbingly…intimate?

Whatever. She had the perfect excuse.

‘I’m going to skip lunch, if you don’t mind, Richard. I’ll grab a sandwich or something but I really need to check on my grandmother and make sure she’s being taken care of. And that she has something to do for the afternoon. Goodness knows what kind of mischief she could get up to otherwise.’

Richard was grinning now. ‘She’s quite something, your grandmother. How old is she?’

‘Eighty-two. Going on about sixteen, I think. I often feel as if I’m in the company of a wayward teenager.’ Charlotte’s smile was fond. ‘And then, at other times, she comes out with the kind of wisdom and advice that only someone who’s experienced life to the full could have. She’s amazing.’

Richard patted her arm. ‘Go and catch up. I’ll give your excuses to anyone who asks.’

‘Thanks.’ Charlotte hurried out to the reception area, away from the dining room, and asked whether her grandmother had left a message for her.

‘No. But she’s had lunch delivered to your room. Would you like your key now?’

The room was massive and decorated in Venetian style with sumptuous drapes, bed coverings and deep armchairs all in tones of silver and soft bronze. There was a Persian rug on the floor beneath the chandelier hanging from an astonishingly high ceiling. A small table with spindly legs supported a silver tray that had plates of delicate-looking sandwiches and cakes, a pot of tea and cups.

The first thing that struck Charlotte was that the tray hadn’t been touched.

Almost at the same time she noted how tidy the room was. Where were the clothes strewn about that always happened when Geraldine was choosing her next outfit? the open guidebooks as she chose her next adventure?

And why on earth was her grandmother lying on a bed in the middle of the day? Lady Geraldine Highton might be eighty-two but she didn’t do naps. ‘Life’s too short,’ she always said. ‘And it’s getting shorter for me by the day. Why waste it by sleeping? I can sleep when I’m dead.’

‘Gran…’ Charlotte moved towards the bed. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Oh…’ Geraldine clearly hadn’t been expecting a visitor. She sat up swiftly, looking…embarrassed. No, make that guilty. ‘Charlie…I didn’t think I’d see you until this evening.’ The odd expression vanished, to be replaced by a beaming smile. ‘That was a wonderful talk you gave, darling. I can’t tell you how proud I was. And I understood every word. Well, almost every word. The next speaker was terribly dull in comparison. I went for a walk and watched the gondolas for a while. I might go for a ride in one after lunch. It’s been years…’

Charlotte sank down onto the edge of the second bed, facing her grandmother. Something here was off-key. Terribly off-key.

‘Gran…’ She reached out and took hold of a soft hand decorated with several diamond rings. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Whatever do you mean? Nothing’s going on, Charlotte. Come and have lunch with me.’ Lady Geraldine got to her feet but then her face changed. She couldn’t hide a grimace of pain and her hand went to her stomach.

‘You’re not well,’ Charlotte gasped. ‘That’s why you haven’t touched your lunch. Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me.’

‘Lie down,’ Charlotte ordered. ‘I want to have a look at you.’

For a long, long moment Geraldine looked undecided. But then she quietly lay down and answered the barrage of questions. Yes, she had abdominal pain. No, it wasn’t the first time. Yes, she’d been to see a doctor about it. She’d had a scan. She was booked to have a biopsy between Christmas and New Year.

A biopsy?

With absolute dread giving her a chill that almost made her shiver visibly, Charlotte quietly asked if she could feel her grandmother’s tummy and when she did, the hard edges of the mass she could feel confirmed her worst fear.

‘Did…did your doctor tell you what he thought it was after the scan?’

‘Oh, yes…’ Lady Geraldine took hold of Charlotte’s hand with both of hers. ‘He’s sure it’s some form of bowel cancer.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I didn’t want you to find out, darling. Not yet.’

Charlotte’s voice was thick with tears. ‘Why not? You should have told me. I should have been there with you when you had your appointments.’

‘We’ve been planning this trip for so long. Going on the Orient Express has been on my bucket list for far too long.’ Unbelievably, Geraldine was smiling mischievously. ‘And what better time to fulfil a bucket list item than when you’ve been told the end probably isn’t that far off?’

‘Gran…We can’t spend thirty hours on a train. We have to fly back to London tonight. I’ll talk to people. We’ll find a way to bring that procedure forward so we can start treatment earlier.’

‘No way, Jose.’ The way Lady Geraldine’s eyes narrowed was a warning that she was not about to be contradicted. ‘I’ve taken some painkillers. I’ll be as right as rain after a little rest. You’re not going to spoil this for me, Charlotte. Are you?’

It wasn’t really a question. And the look coming from those faded blue eyes wasn’t disapproving. It was full of absolute love. The kind of love Charlotte had received from this remarkable woman ever since she’d been orphaned as a small, terrified child.

This was why her grandmother had wanted to hear her speak today. Why she’d wanted to tell her how proud she was of her. Well, that cut both ways, didn’t it?

‘Let’s enjoy this time together,’ Lady Geraldine added softly. ‘Before we know anything for sure. Let’s pretend you didn’t find me like this. The way I wanted it to be. Go back to your conference, darling. I need a little rest and then I’m going to choose my outfit for the dinner tonight.’

Those words stayed with Charlotte during the afternoon’s symposium proceedings and it was the hardest thing she’d ever done, to keep up her professional image. The papers being presented were fascinating and the discussions lively, and Charlotte had learned long ago to firmly shut the door between her professional and personal lives, but today it was impossible.

Today had started badly. She thought she’d made the best of a bad situation and survived but now it felt as if the world had tilted far too sharply on its axis. What did her brilliant career matter if she was about to lose the person she loved most? The only person she truly loved, come to that.

The conference attendees were invited to a cocktail session before a break to get ready for the dinner but Charlotte quietly slipped away from the group. She had to pull herself together. Had to find the strength to deal with what was undoubtedly coming. Did she really want to deprive her grandmother of the long-awaited pleasure of the train trip tomorrow and whisk her back to London and into hospital? Did she have that right?

The balcony leading off the now deserted dining room offered a private space with the bonus of an idyllic canal view where more than one ornate gondola could be seen floating past.

One of the gondolas held a pair of young lovers who were locked in a passionate embrace, oblivious to their surroundings for the moment. Maybe they were practising. Wasn’t there a bridge here in Venice and if you kissed while going beneath it, it meant that your love would last for ever?

If her grandmother was here on this balcony with her, she’d be poking Charlotte with a bony finger right about now. Clicking her tongue.

That should be you in that gondola, Charlotte Jane, she’d be saying. Kissing some gorgeous young man whose baby you can’t wait to have. You don’t know what you’re missing, child, and it’s the most important thing in life.

But Charlotte knew all too well what she’d be missing far too soon and hearing her grandmother’s voice so clearly in her mind was the final straw.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. Hot, burning tears that felt like acid. No surprise there. They were pretty concentrated given that she hadn’t shed a tear for six years now. They were such a sign of weakness. Feminine weakness.

She knew there was no point in trying to stop them.

Thank God nobody could see her.

The room Nico had been given at the hotel Bonvecchiata was luxurious. He eyed the huge bed, pulled at his tie to loosen it, and looked forward to putting his feet up for a while before heading off to the symposium dinner.

What a day!

Shedding his jacket, Nico walked to the tall windows of his room and looked through the ornate iron grille to find he had the bonus of a canal view. A gondola floated past with a young couple locked in each other’s arms.

Nico smiled. Nice. His gaze drifted lazily and then it caught.

His smile faded.

There was a balcony on the floor beneath his. Charlotte Highton was standing there, her shoulders bowed as if she carried the weight of the entire world on them.

And she was crying?

Dio, but this woman was so full of contradictions. For a moment Nico stared in fascination. He would never have believed that she was capable of showing such a depth of emotion. But why was she so upset?

Did it have anything to do with being unable to present what she’d intended to present this morning?

Because of the trouble he’d unwittingly caused for her?

For another, long moment Nico kept staring, unsure of how to unravel the conflicting emotions being stirred in his own gut. Why did he feel such a strong urge to try and help this prickly, complicated woman? It was more than having contributed to a bad start to her day. More, even, than being curious about how someone’s personality could have changed so much in just a few short years.

Being aware that there was some indefinable extra motivation should be enough of a warning to stop him getting involved any further, but did he want to listen to that warning?

He turned away. Stared at the huge, inviting bed for a moment. And then, with a soft growl, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

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