From Venice with Love. Alison Roberts
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There’s a couple of attendees that aren’t here yet as well.’
‘Oh…’ Charlotte nodded. She had been given a small breathing space. Now she had to decide if there was any way in the world she could rescue the situation. ‘Richard…about my opening address…’
The older man smiled. ‘Catchy title. “Miracles or Mutilation?” It’s caught everybody’s attention already, I have to say. But, Charlotte…’ Richard was frowning now, looking down at her shredded tights and grazed knees. ‘Are you going to be able to deliver it?’
Richard Campbell’s reputation was on the line here. There were people from all over the world who’d chosen to come to this satellite symposium—a breakaway group from the much larger conference that had finished in Rome yesterday—plus others who had chosen to come to this forum without attending the main conference. They were all leaders in the field of emergency medicine. Exceptionally busy people who would not be happy to have their precious time wasted.
Charlotte’s presentation had been researched meticulously. the medical illustrations department of her university hospital had spent hours preparing the graphics that represented the facts and figures, the trends and the controversies about cost-effectiveness. It didn’t matter how phenomenal her memory was, there was no way she could do justice to her presentation.
If she could get hold of someone at St Margaret’s they could find the presentation on her desk computer and email it to her, but that would take too much time. They only had a matter of hours to fit in the other presentations and discussions before the symposium dinner this evening. And someone needed to open the day’s programme.
How would it look it she backed out? Even with the best excuse in the world it would still dent her reputation as a young leader in this field, and Charlotte needed that reputation. It was who she was. The professional Charlotte Highton was strong enough to hide the real Charlotte. The inadequate, shameful one who wasn’t a real woman at all.
She was caught between a rock and a hard place here. If she explained that there was no way she could do this, she would tarnish her reputation with the taint of failure and that chink in her armour might never be mended. It might grow, in fact, and eventually split open and the whole world would know what she was hiding.
They might look at her the way Nico Moretti had. As if they knew she was a fraud.
Charlotte could feel her heart thumping rapidly and there was a sinking sensation in her stomach that threatened to spiral into nausea.
‘I’ve got a small problem,’ she confessed to Richard. ‘I’ve lost my presentation. My laptop ended up in the canal.’
‘Oh…Lord…’ Richard shaded his eyes with his hand. ‘Can you manage without it?’
Charlotte opened her mouth to tell him how unlikely that was, but before she could force the words out she was distracted by the sound of her name being called from somewhere near the reception desk.
‘Charlotte Jane Highton…’
The voice was as familiar to her as her own but Charlotte didn’t want to believe that there was yet another problem she had to deal with. She kept her gaze on Richard, who gave her a rueful smile.
‘Sorry. I hadn’t got around to telling you. Your grandmother’s here.’
Charlotte shook her head sharply. ‘No. She’s not supposed to arrive until tonight. After the symposium. We’re travelling back to London together tomorrow.’
But the voice was much closer now. It couldn’t be ignored.
‘Charlotte Jane…What on earth have you done to yourself, child? You look like you’ve been run over by a gondola.’
Charlotte closed her eyes. She might be thirty-one years old but her grandmother could make her feel like a child again in a heartbeat. Flame-haired and larger than life, Lady Geraldine Highton was never one to stand on ceremony.
‘Gran…what are you doing here?’
‘I’m supposed to be here. I booked a room for us tonight.’
‘Yes, but you were flying in this evening.’
‘I changed my flight and arrived first thing this morning. I decided I wanted to hear you speak and this lovely man has told me I can sit in with all the translators and hear you on some headphones.’
Richard was nodding now and his smile was intended to reassure Charlotte that this problem, at least, had been dealt with. Clearly, he had been charmed by Lady Geraldine. Or intimidated. Either way, she had made arrangements that she now deemed satisfactory.
‘But, Gran, you hate hearing anything about medical procedures. You’ve never wanted to hear me talk about my work.’
‘Today’s different.’
Something was different. With the kind of skill Charlotte found invaluable in her dealings with people in traumatic situations, she could sense that there was something important her grandmother was keeping to herself.
‘I might not like hearing it,’ Lady Geraldine continued, ‘and I might not understand it, but it won’t stop me wanting the chance to be proud of my granddaughter. Who knows? It might be the only chance I ever get.’
Yes. There was a shadow there in her grandmother’s eyes. Eyes that usually sparkled with the determination to squeeze the best that life had to offer out of every opportunity. What was going on?
Charlotte knew she was staring. She also knew that her grandmother could read her like a book.
‘We’ll talk later,’ Lady Geraldine said crisply. ‘What we have to do now is get you tidied up. Thankfully, I have spare hosiery in my bag. And a hairbrush. Come on, Charlotte. Where’s the nearest bathroom? There’s no time to waste. You don’t want to keep all these important people waiting, do you?’
‘But…’
There was a plea on Richard’s face now. ‘You don’t have to give the presentation you prepared,’ he said quietly. ‘I have every confidence that you can think of something to say that would be an appropriate way to open this symposium. Could you do that, Charlotte? Please?’
The space between that rock and hard place suddenly got so small that it squeezed the breath out of Charlotte’s lungs. She couldn’t think. Maybe because she had no choice.
‘I’ll do my best.’
So it was that Charlotte found herself looking almost presentable again fifteen minutes later, standing in front of a room full of people who sat at a huge, U-shaped table. Some wore headphones to receive the translation service. Most had laptops or tablets on the table in front of them, along with pads of paper, pens, pitchers of iced water and even bowls of mints.
Charlotte had nothing other than a microphone clipped to the lapel of her jacket. From the way her heart was pounding and how exposed She felt, she could have been standing here stark naked.
She tried to smile at the group but failed. She did, however, manage to introduce herself and apologise for the delay in starting.
‘I’m sure you’ve all heard by now of the reason why I was delayed and you, more than most, will understand that emergencies happen.’
Oh, help. Charlotte could hear the sound of her own voice, magnified by the loudspeaker system. Where was the calm, professional tone she always used in public?
What would her grandmother think of this? The niggling worry that there was something wrong that her grandmother wasn’t telling her couldn’t be allowed to surface until this was all over but it was impossible not to have a flash of shame that the pride her only living relative had taken in her achievements was going to be dented.
‘Ah…’ Charlotte stared at the group, totally at a loss for what she could say next. Please, God, let the ground open and swallow me up, she thought.
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