Ric had sent her back to sit with Jack; he hadn’t really wanted to talk to Owen in front of her. She was okay with that. All she wanted right now was Jack, anyway.

She took a seat at his bedside, and just watched him: his chest rising and falling slowly (too slowly?); the monitors picking up his outputs (too low? Not quite right? She was worried); but she avoided looking at his face. If she did, then she knew that she would cry. She wouldn’t be able to do anything but cry.

She was starting to panic as she forced herself to concentrate on the monitors, and convinced herself that the outputs were too low – of course they were too low, why was Ric not here to check them? If she had been Jack’s doctor, she would have been taking him back to theatre now, she was sure of it. He was going to die… she was going to lose him… She choked back an anguished sob as she heard footsteps outside.

The next thing that she knew, she was crying, sobbing, terrified of what might happen, of how she might lose her little boy. Then someone was holding her, hugging her, stroking her hair. “Oh, you poor girl…” It took her a few moments to work out who it was, but she knew before she looked up that it was Connie.

“It’s too low,” Diane mumbled, pointing.

Connie looked serious for a moment, considering. “Well, if he were healthy then I’d be inclined to agree. But he’s been through an awful lot, Diane – he’s lucky to be alive,” she added, regretting it instantly as Diane instinctively moved a hand over her mouth, looking – and feeling – as though she were about to be sick. “But,” she added quickly. “But, he seems to be doing really well, Diane – those stats are higher than I’d expect, that’s a really good sign.”

“Is it?” she asked, still anxious, not wanting to reject what she believed to be the truth in favour of Connie’s comfortably reassuring lie.

“Diane, I don’t believe in giving false hope, as well you know.” Her voice was stern but her expression was kind.

“I didn’t say…”

“No, but I can guess how you’re feeling,” Connie interrupted. “You look even more worried than when you were sitting with Joanna.”

“Jack’s like my son.” Without meaning to, she had allowed her gaze to fall upon his face, and now she couldn’t look away; she was transfixed by him. “He’s my world, I’ve devoted my life to him. I’ve given up everything for him, I love him… Oh, I haven’t got any regrets,” she added quickly afraid that Connie would think that she begrudged her beloved nephew anything. “I know I didn’t have a choice in taking him, but I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. I love him so much…”

Connie nodded. “I can tell.” She followed Diane’s gaze, taking in the scratches on Jack’s forehead, the bruises, the drip in his arm, the bandages… she couldn’t bear to think how Diane must feel. If it had been Madison – oh, if it had been Maddy, Connie would not have coped, she would have crumbled. She looked at Diane in admiration. “You’re very strong, Diane.”

“I’m not.” Diane looked up, smiling despite her worries. “I’m no stronger than I’ve had to be.” There was a certain tone in her voice that told Connie not to say more. For a moment, she was brought up short. Very few people dared to tell Connie Beauchamp what to do – and if they did, they never did it twice. But Diane, Diane with all her insecurities and worries, had within her a strange confidence, and a very definite sense of her own privacy. Connie thought around for how to change the subject.

“So, did you ever make consultant?” she asked conversationally, after a few moments.

“No…” Diane replied reluctantly. “I, ah… I don’t work.” She avoided Connie’s eyes as she said this, knowing she was about to receive a lecture.

“You don’t work?!” Connie repeated incredulously. “Oh, Diane, what a waste. What a bloody waste.”

Secretly, Diane was flattered by her indignation, the idea that she had been a loss, but outwardly she just looked down. “I’m happy, Connie. I have Jack, I can spend much more time with him…”

“Isn’t he at school?” Connie put in, struggling to understand why any promising surgeon would give up their job. She herself had never even considered it when Madison was born. As soon as Maddy could cope without her, she was back at work. Of course, that had been necessary: Ric hadn’t exactly been in a position to give much financial help. “Was it Owen’s idea?” she asked, before she could help herself.

“He suggested it, yes.” He had suggested it at a Sunday dinner with her parents, a few weeks after the wedding, just before they had moved away.

“I think that you should take a break, sweetie… You’ve been working so hard recently, and it can’t be good for you, what with Jack, and the wedding… You should have a rest for a few months, give it up for a while…”

How angry her father had been! For once, she had sided with him – but not out loud, of course. Not with Mum and Owen being so enthusiastic about the idea of giving up work, saying how tired she looked – well, she was tired! Jack had been just walking, teething still, and was on the go from the time he got up until she wrestled him into bed. Anyone would have been tired.

But Connie was looking at her, so she brought herself back to the present. “Oh, I don’t mind it really. It’s quite relaxing…”

“Rather too relaxing if you ask me,” Connie told her, sharply. “There’s a shortage of good surgeons, Diane.”

“Don’t you dare say that I’m being selfish!” She glared. “Drop it, Connie. It’s old news.”

“Fine. But I’m not impressed.”

“I didn’t ask you to be. It’s none of your business, anyway.” She looked back down at Jack as she heard a slight movement. “Connie…”