Read Online The Sheikh and the Surrogate Mum by Meredith Webber - Free Book Online

is called that.’
    ‘But wouldn’t the home of the ruler—the real palace—be in the capital?’
    The smile turned to laughter.
    ‘Does not the English queen have many palaces? Balmoral and Windsor and who knows what others, as well as the one in London. Now, we will stop talking nonsense about palaces, and you will see Najme as we drive into it.’
    It was pink! All the buildings not pink stone but pink bricks or pink earth, made perhaps from the local sand—red desert sand. Liz was fascinated, and wanted to ask many questions, but Khlaifa was back into work mode, speaking crisply and confidently on his mobile to someone at the hospital, giving orders for the preparation of a theatre, for a crib, for specialist staff.
    In English, Liz realised with a surge of relief. If most of the staff spoke English she wouldn’t have to learn Arabic, although as she looked at the flowing script on signs in front of buildings she knew she’d like to learn it—to speak it and to write it.
    Another challenge.
    One she could forget, she told herself firmly. She probably wouldn’t be here long enough to find her way around, let alone learn the language.
    Best she should concentrate on work. What could she remember from her early studies about the tumour called a meningioma? Usually benign, she thought, but its growth within the outer covering of the brain—the meninges—could be causing compression on areas of vital function—in this case on the occipital region.
    ‘Has she had any treatment for it?’ Liz asked as Khalifa folded his phone and slipped it into his pocket.
    ‘Normally the patient would have been given steroids in an attempt to shrink the tumour, but with her pregnancy it was thought an immediate operation was the best option. We have cribs with radiant heaters at the hospital because we use them to fly at-risk babies to the capital. I’ve asked one be prepared for you and for staff to be available.’
    He paused, turning to look directly at her.
    ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked. ‘The journey—you must be tired…’
    Liz had to smile.
    ‘When I slept for most of it? Hardly,’ she said. ‘And isn’t this the best way to tackle a new job? To leap right in and find out exactly what you do and don’t have on hand? I’m very sorry for the poor woman, but I have to admit I’m excited at the same time.’
    She really was, Khalifa realised as he took in the shine in her eyes and the slight flush of colour in her cheeks. He shook his head, unable to believe he’d, just by chance, found a colleague who obviously felt as he did about their profession, felt the physical thrill of a challenge.
    Though it was probably best he not think of physical thrills and this woman in the same breath…
    ‘Oh, it’s pink as well.’
    She whispered the words but he saw wonder in her face and felt a surge of pride because his hospital was truly a beautiful building. Stretched out in a swathe of parkland, the architect had somehow managed, with the design of the multi-level building, to still hint at the shape of the tents his family had used for thousands of years, while the dark pink colour of the walls spoke of desert dunes, the gold highlights desert sunsets.
    But all he’d said was, ‘We can leave our luggage in the vehicle.’
    It was the most unusual hospital Liz had ever seen, arched openings leading into wide verandas that spread out from every floor, bright rugs and cushions thrown with apparent abandon across the marble tiling. Here and there black-robed women and turbaned men sat around low tables, drinking coffee from tall silver pots set over braziers that looked as if they held live coals.
    In a hospital?
    ‘Families like to be close to their loved ones, and this seemed to me a practical way to provide accommodation for them,’ Khalifa said, making Liz realise her amazement must be showing.
    ‘And presumably they don’t take their cooking fires inside near the oxygen tanks,’ she remarked, following