Page 31 of 200 Harley Street: The Enigmatic Surgeon

If anyone could do it, Charlotte could.

* * *

When Edward ushered Charlotte into Mercy’s room she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. She found that Edward hadn’t been quite honest with her.

The girl’s face lit up when Edward smiled at her. ‘Hello, Mercy. How are you today?’

‘I am well, Dr Edward.’

‘I’m pleased to hear that. I’ve brought someone to see you.’

Mercy’s dark eyes never left Edward’s face. If he reckoned that his quiet kindness hadn’t got through to her, then he was fooling himself. Charlotte began to wonder what she was doing here. Edward had clearly underestimated his own capacity to reassure the girl.

There was tenderness in his eyes as he spoke again. ‘Nurse Charlotte is going to look after you when you come to see me at the clinic. She’s come to meet you.’

Mercy gave Charlotte a small nod.

‘I’ll...um...leave you, then.’ Edward seemed suddenly at a loss as to what to do next.

‘No. Please stay. Just for a few minutes.’

Charlotte didn’t share Edward’s conviction that she could gain Mercy’s confidence instantly, through some magical process that he knew nothing about.

She pulled up a chair and sat down next to Mercy’s bed. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Mercy. I hope that I can be your friend.’

Mercy nodded again, clearly deciding to adopt a wait-and-see policy. Charlotte was going to have to prove herself, but that was okay.

‘I’ve brought you some pictures of my family.’ She had photographs in her bag—of herself with Isaac when he was a baby, together with some more recent ones, and some precious images of her parents. ‘Would you like to see them?’

‘Yes.’

That was a start. Charlotte began with the picture of Isaac. ‘This is my son. His name is Isaac, and he was born on a Saturday.’

Mercy studied the picture carefully. ‘Then in my country he would be called Kwame.’

Edward’s curiosity got the better of him and he leaned forward. ‘For Saturday?’

‘Yes.’

‘I was born on a Friday.’

Mercy smiled. ‘Nurse Efie.’

Charlotte grinned. ‘That’s a lovely name. Thank you for telling me. What’s yours?’

‘Abena. My English name is Mercy.’

‘You have a lovely smile, Mercy Abena.’

* * *

Charlotte had been alone with Mercy for almost an hour when Edward’s phone beeped. He checked the text which had just arrived and made for Mercy’s room. Charlotte was waiting for him outside the door.

‘Thanks for coming so quickly.’ She looked nervous, moving her weight slightly from one foot to the other.

‘You said “asap”.’

Charlotte wasn’t one of those people who peppered all of her communications with either ‘asap’ or ‘urgent’. When she said it, she meant it.