Knight on the Children's Ward (10 page)

E
LSIE
was right—you should never let the sun go down on a row, because as the days moved on life got more complicated. It was cold and lonely up there on her high horse, and next Tuesday Ross flew out to Spain. More importantly, her midway report on her time with the children's ward was less than impressive, and she was considering the very real good she could do working on the family foundation board.

She wanted his wisdom.

She attempted a smile, even tried to strike up a conversation. She finally resorted to wearing the awful wizard apron that always garnered comment. But Ross didn't bat an eye.

Because Ross was sulking too.

Yes, he'd messed up, but the fact that she hadn't let him explain incensed him. His mother, two minutes after Annika had left, had burst into tears, and George had had to give her a brandy.

Then George, who had always been a touch lacking in the emotion department, had started to cry and revealed he was dreading losing his son!

Ross had problems too!

So he ignored her—wished he could stop thinking about her, but ignored her.

Even on Saturday.

Even as she left the ward, still he didn't look up.

‘Enjoy the ball!' Caroline called. ‘You can tell us all about it tomorrow.'

‘I will,' Annika said. ‘See you then.'

He could feel her eyes on the top of his head as he carried on writing his notes.

‘See you, Ross.'

Consultants didn't need to look up; he just gave her a very clipped response as he continued to write.

‘Yep.'

Annika consoled herself that this was progress.

 

‘You're not working this afternoon, are you?' Dianne frowned as Annika came into the office.

‘No,' Annika said. ‘I just popped in to check my roster.'

It was a lie and everyone knew it. She wasn't due for a shift for another week, and anyway she could have rung to check. She had, to her mother's disgust, worked on the children's ward this morning, but they had let her go home early. Instead of taking advantage of those extra two hours, and racing to her mother's to have her hair put up and her make-up applied for the ball, she'd
popped in to check her roster
.

‘How's Elsie?' Annika asked. ‘I rang yesterday and the GP was coming in…'

‘She's not doing so well, Annika,' Dianne said. ‘She's got another UTI, and he thinks she might have had an infarct.'

‘Is she in hospital?'

‘She's here,' Dianne said, ‘and we're making her as comfortable as we can. Why don't you go in and see her?'

Annika did. Elsie wasn't particularly confused, but she didn't recognize Annika out of uniform.

‘Is any family coming?' Annika asked Dianne.

‘Her daughter's in Western Australia, and she's seventy,' Dianne said. ‘She's asked that we keep her informed.'

Annika sat with Elsie for a little while longer, but her phone kept going off, which disturbed the old lady, so in the end Annika kissed Elsie goodbye and asked Dianne if she could ring later.

‘Of course,' Dianne said. ‘She's your friend.'

S
TARING
out of her old bedroom window, Annika felt the knot in her stomach tighten at the sight of the luxury cars waiting lined up in the driveway.

She could hear chatter and laughter downstairs and was loath to go down—but then someone knocked at the door.

‘Only me!' Annie, her sister-in-law, popped her head round and then came in. ‘You look stunning, Annika.'

‘I don't feel it.' She stared in the mirror at the curled blonde ringlets, at the rouge, lipstick, nails and the thousands of dollars worth of velvet that hugged her body and felt like ripping it off.

‘But you look gorgeous,' Annie protested.

How did Annie balance it? Annika wondered. She had probably spent half an hour getting ready. Her dark curls were damp at the ends, and she was pulling on a pair of stockings as she chatted. Her breasts, huge from feeding little Rebecca, were spilling out her simple black dress. And her cheeks had a glow that no amount of blusher could produce—no doubt there was a very good reason why she and Iosef were so late arriving for pre-dinner drinks!

‘It's going to be fun!' Annie insisted. ‘Iosef was
dreading it too, but I've had a fiddle and we're on the poor table.'

‘Pardon?'

‘Away from the bigwigs!' Annie said gleefully. ‘Well, we're not sitting with the major sponsors of the night.'

And then Annie was serious.

‘Iosef meant it when he said if you needed a hand.'

‘I cashed the cheque.'

‘We meant with your studies.' Annie blew her fringe out of her eyes. Iosef's family were all impossible—this little sister too. There was a wall that Annie had tried to chip away at, but she'd never even made a dint. ‘I know it must be hell for you now—finding out what your mother did…'

‘Had she not…' Annika's blue eyes glittered dangerously ‘…your beloved Iosef wouldn't be here. Do you ever think of
that
when you're so busy hating her?'

‘Annika, please, let us help you.'

‘No!' Annika was sick of Annie—sick of the lot of them telling her how she felt. ‘I don't need your help. I'm handing in my notice, and you'll get your money back. All my mother did was try and look after her family—well, now it's my turn to look after her!'

 

She stepped out of the car and smiled for the cameras. She stood with her mother and smiled ever brighter, and then she walked through the hotel foyer and they were guided to the glittering pre-dinner drinks reception.

Diamonds and rare gems glittered from throats and ears, and people sipped on the finest champagne. Annika dazzled, because that was what was expected of her, but it made no sense.

Hundreds of thousands would have been spent on tonight.

Aside from the luxury hotel and the fine catering, money would have been poured into dresses, suits, jewels, hairdressers, beauticians, prizes and promotion. All to support a cluster of orphanages the Kolovskys had recently started raising funds for.

All this money spent, all this gluttony, to support the impoverished.

Sometimes, to Annika, it seemed obscene.

‘You have to spend it to make it,' her mother had said.

‘Annika…' Her mother was at her most socially vigilant. Everything about tonight had to be perfect. The Kolovskys had to be seen at their very best—and that included the daughter. ‘This is Zakahr Belenki, our guest speaker…'

‘
Zdravstvujte
,' he greeted her formally, in Russian, and Annika responded likewise, but she was relieved when he reverted to English.

He was a Detsky Dom boy made good—a self-made billionaire and the jewel in the crown that was tonight. He poured numerous funds into this charity, but he was, Zakahr said, keen to raise awareness, which was why he had flown to the other side of the world for this ball.

This, Nina explained, was what tonight could achieve, proof of the good they could do. But though Zakahr nodded and answered politely to her, his grey eyes were cold, his responses slightly scathing.

‘I've heard marvellous things about your outreach programme!' Annika attempted.

‘What things?' Zakahr asked with a slight smirk, but Annika had done her homework and spoke with him about the soup kitchen and the drop-in centre, and the regular health checks available for the street children. She
had heard that Zakahr was also implementing a casual education programme, with access to computers…

‘We would love to support that,' Nina gushed, and then dashed off.

‘Tell me, Annika?' Zakahr said when they were alone. ‘How much do you think it costs to clear a conscience?'

She looked into the cool grey eyes that seemed to see right into her soul and felt as if a hand was squeezing her throat, but Zakahr just smiled.

‘I think our support for the education programme is assured,' she said.

He knew, and he knew, and it made her feel sick.

Soon everyone would know, and she could hardly stand it. She wanted to hide, to step off the world till it all blew over, but somehow she had to live through it and be there for her mother too.

‘Excuse me…' She turned to go, to escape to the loo, to get away from the throng—except there was no escape tonight, because she collided into a chest and, though she didn't see his face for a second, the scent of him told her that a difficult night had just become impossible.

‘Ross.' Annika swallowed hard, looked up, and almost wished she hadn't.

Always she had considered him beautiful; tonight he was devastatingly handsome.

He was in a dinner suit, his long black hair slicked back, his tie knotted perfectly, his shirt gleaming against his dark skin, his earring glittering. His face was, for the first time, completely cleanshaven. She looked for the trademark mockery, except there was none.

‘How come…?' She shook her head. She had never for a second factored him into tonight, had never considered that their worlds might collide here.

‘I work in the orphanages with your brother.' Ross shrugged. ‘It's a very good cause.'

‘Of course.' Annika swallowed. ‘But…' She didn't continue. How could she? This was her world, and she had never envisaged him entering it.

‘I'm also here for the chance to talk to you.'

‘There's really not much to say.'

‘You'd let it all go for a stupid misunderstanding? Let everything go over one single row?'

‘Yes,' Annika said—because her family's shame was more than she could reveal, because it was easier to go back to the fold alone than to even try to blend him in.

‘Hello!' Nina was all smiles. Seeing her daughter speaking to a stranger, she wormed her way in for a rapid introduction, lest it be someone famous she hadn't met, or a contact she hadn't pursued.

‘This is my mother, Nina.' Annika's lips were so rigid she could hardly get the words out. ‘Mother, this is Ross Wyatt—Dr Ross Wyatt.'

‘I work at the hospital with Annika; I'm also a friend of Iosef's.' Ross smiled.

Only in her family was friendship frowned upon; only for the Kolovskys was a doctor, a
working
doctor, considered common.

Oh, Nina didn't say as much, and Ross probably only noticed her smile and heard her twenty seconds of idle chatter, but Annika could see the veins in her mother's neck, see the unbreakable glass that was her mother's eyes frost as she came face to face with the ‘filthy gypsy' Iosef had spoken so often about.

She glanced over to Annika.

‘You need to work the room, darling.'

So she did—as she had done many times. She
made polite conversation, laughing at the right moment and serious when required. But she could feel Ross's eyes on her, could sometimes see him chatting with Iosef, and a job that had always been hard was even harder tonight.

She was the centre of attention, the jewel in the Kolovsky crown, and she had to sparkle on demand.

Just as she had been paraded for the grown-ups on her birthdays as a child, or later at dinner parties, so she was paraded tonight.

Iosef, Aleksi, and later Levander had all teased her, mocked her, because in her parents' eyes Annika had been able to do no wrong. Annika had been the favourite, Annika the one who behaved, who toed the line. Yes, she had, but they just didn't understand how hard that had been.

And how much harder it would be to suddenly stop.

She stood at the edge of the crowd, heard the laughter and the tinkle of glass, felt the buoyant mood, and how she wanted to head over to Ross, to Iosef and Annie, to relax. She almost did.

‘Aleksi isn't here…' Her mother's face was livid behind her bright smile, her words spat behind rigid teeth. ‘You need to speak to the Minister, and then you need to—'

‘I'm just going to have a drink with my friends, with Iosef…'

‘Have you
any
idea what people are paying to be here tonight?' Nina said. ‘Any idea of the good we can do? And you want to stop and
have a drink
?'

‘Annie and Iosef are.'

‘You know what I think of
them
. You are better than that, Annika. Your father wanted more for you. Iosef thinks his four weeks away a year helping the orphans
excludes him from other duties. Tonight
you
can make a real difference.'

So she did.

She spoke to the Minister. She laughed as his revolting son flirted with her. She spoke fluent French with some other guests, forgetting that she was a student nurse and that she wiped bums in a nursing home. She shone and made up for the absent Aleksi and she impressed everyone—except the ones that mattered to her the most.

‘It's going well!' Annika said, slipping into her seat at their table, putting her hand over her glass when the waiter came with wine. ‘Just water, thanks.'

‘Ross was just saying,' Iosef started, ‘that you're…' His voice trailed off as his mother appeared and spoke in Annika's ear.

‘I have to go and sit with them…' Annika said.

‘No, Annika, you don't,' Iosef said.

‘I want to.' She gave Ross a smile, but he didn't return it.

‘It's hard for her,' Annie said, once Annika had gone, but Iosef didn't buy it. He had done everything he could to keep Annika in nursing, and his mother had told him earlier today that Annika was quitting.

‘No, she loves this,' he said. ‘She always has.' He looked over to his wife. ‘Has she told you that she's handing in her notice at the end of her rotation?'

‘Sort of.'

‘I told you she wouldn't stick at it.' He glanced at Ross. ‘Model, pastry chef, jewellery designer, student nurse…' He looked to where his sister was laughing at something the Minister's son had said. ‘I think she's found her vocation.'

Aleksi did arrive. Dinner had already been cleared
away, and the speeches were well underway, but because it was Aleksi, everyone pretended not to notice his condition.

A stunning raven-haired beauty hung on his arm and he was clearly a little the worse for wear—and so was she. Their chatter carried through the room, once at the most inappropriate of times, when Zakahr Belenki was speaking of his time in the Detsky Dom.

Abandoned at birth, he had been raised there, but at twelve years of age he had chosen the comparative luxury of the streets. The details were shocking, and unfortunately, as he paused for effect, Aleksi's date, clearly not listening to the speaker, called to the waiter for more wine.

And Ross watched.

Watched as the speaker stared in distaste at Aleksi.

Watched as a rather bored Annika played with her napkin and fiddled with the flower display, or occasionally spoke with her brother's revolting date.

He saw Aleksi Kolovsky yawn as Zakahr spoke of the outreach programme that had saved him.

Clothed him.

Fed him.

Supported him.

Spoke of how he had climbed from the gutters of the streets to become one of Europe's most successful businessmen.

He asked that tonight people supported this worthy cause.

And then Ross watched as for the rest of the night Annika ignored him.

 

He'd clearly misread her. Here she was, being how he had always wanted her to be—smiling, talking, dancing, laughing—she just chose not to do it with him.

‘Why don't I give you a lift home?'

‘There's an after-party event.'

‘How about we stay for an hour and then…?'

‘It's exclusive,' Annika said.

And he got the point.

Tonight he had seen her enjoying herself in a way that she never had with him.

For once instinct had failed him.

He had been sure there was more, and was struggling to accept that there wasn't.

‘It was a good speech from Zakahr…' Ross said, carefully watching her reaction.

‘It was a little over the top,' Annika said, ‘but it did the job.'

‘Is that what this is to you?'

‘Ross.' Annika's cheeks were burning. ‘You and Iosef are so scathing, but you don't mind spending the funds.'

‘Okay.' She had a point, but there was so much more in the middle.

Iosef and Annie were leaving, and they came over and said their goodnights.

‘You've got work tomorrow,' Iosef pointed out, when Annika declined a lift from them and said where she was heading.

And then it was just the two of them again, and, though he had no real right to voice an opinion, though she had promised him nothing, he felt as if he had been robbed.

‘Are you giving up nursing?'

‘Probably,' Annika answered, but she couldn't look at him. Why wouldn't he just leave her? Why, every time she saw him, did she want to fall into his arms and weep? ‘Ross, I need to be here for my mother, and there's a good work opportunity for me. Let's face it—
I'm hardly nurse of the year. But I haven't properly made up my mind yet. I'm going to finish my paediatric rotation—'