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He didn’t answer, or look at her. Just stared at his hands.

‘Aiden, I need you to talk to me.’

‘I don’t want to talk about this.’

‘That’s tough shit, because you need to.’

His silence aggravated her far more than it should have – than it probably would have if he’d been anyone else. ‘For fuck’s sake, Aiden, what the hell’s going on? You call me out here in the middle of the bloody night for a patient who isn’t mine, who I know nothing about, and clearly there’s a history I need to know. You’ve been cagey about your living situation for months, and it’s just your mum? What the hell are you hiding?’

‘Mia… it’s nothing…’

‘You think I didn’t see the bruises up her arm? The old scars on her hands. I’m not blind, Aiden.’

‘I didn’t hurt her, if that’s what you’re worrying about.’

The words slammed into Mia’s chest, knocking the air from her lungs. ‘I didn’t think you had for a second.’

‘You wouldn’t have been the first who’d made the accusation.’

She wanted so much to reach out to him, to comfort him, but it felt wrong. This wasn’t the Aiden who was sweetly attentive in her bed. This was someone colder – angry. Secretive. Who she barely knew. ‘Aiden, I need to know what’s going on. It’s a clinical question. I can see something’s not right, and I need you to explain it so I can try to help her. Is this Parkinson’s?’

‘No.’

‘Is she detoxing from something? Are you trying to help her get clean from drugs or alcohol?’

He snorted angrily. ‘I wish. It’s chorea.’

Mia had to rack her brains. She knew the word and what it linked to, but she was tired and it wasn’t something she’d dealt with since she was a student. When the answer reared its ugly head, her blood ran cold. Oh, please no. Let me be wrong. She didn’t want to be right about this, because if it was what she thought, it was a lot worse than the first two options. She licked lips that had suddenly gone dry. ‘Aiden, do you mean chorea as in Huntington’s?’

He didn’t speak, just nodded.

‘You should have told me.’

‘I’m sorry, Mia, I wasn’t trying to lie to you, I just…’

‘That’s a conversation for another time.’ She cut him off. ‘But clinically, Aiden, it would have been really helpful to know the patient I’m supposed to be stitching up is experiencing chorea spasms. I’m not a paramedic. I’m not licensed to carry paralytics like they are. I don’t even know which would work. She should be in hospital.’ She climbed out of the car, slamming the door as she went to the rear.

‘Mia, I really am sorry.’

‘And I’m busy trying to figure out how to help a patient you dropped on me under false pretences.’ Angrily, she emptied the contents of a bag she rarely used all over the floor, hoping what she thought might work was in there.

‘Mia, I’m sorry.’

Finally her fingers landed on the tube she was looking for. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. I’m busy.’ She slammed the car shut for good measure. ‘And you’re going to help. Come on.’ She stomped back to the kitchen.

‘Rightio, Sylvie.’ Mia smiled at his ma like she hadn’t just been tearing him a new – probably well-deserved – hole, and he was so grateful to her for that. ‘Now I’ve got a better understanding of what’s going on, I’ve got an idea. It’s not going to be fun for any of us, and I can’t promise it’ll work or be particularly neat, but it’s this or the hospital.’

‘OK.’ His ma barely flinched as Mia uncovered her hand again. ‘I’m going to have to check for any bits of glass that might be left, clean you up and then I’m going to try and glue this wound shut. And I need you to be as still as possible while I do that. I know that’s not easy for you. So, we can either wait this episode out and hope your meds kick in soon – which isn’t ideal – or we put your boy’s muscles to use and he helps you hold still while I work. What do you think?’

‘Do you mind, love?’

Did he mind? Of course he fucking minded pinning his ma to the table like an animal or misbehaving child. Just the thought of it churned his stomach. But what could he possibly say when they were both looking at him like that? He forced the bile back down his throat. ‘Of course not. What do I do?’

‘Come behind Sylvie here? One hand on her wrist, and the other over her fingers like this.’ She demonstrated on her own hand. ‘I’ll pad her hand, but you need to keep the pressure even to make sure we don’t cause any other injuries.’

Aiden nodded, feeling even sicker.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve got surgical gloves? Mine won’t fit you.’