“You’re running yourself ragged, trying to take the blame for everything and compensate for all that has happened.

“You need to see what a great job you’re doing and stop imagining the worst.”

Fleur stiffened at the rather backhanded compliment.“I think you’re being rather premature in drawing your conclusions about me, Mario. We’ve known each other for barely more than a couple of weeks.” His hands were still on her shoulders and Fleur was suddenly conscious of his touch. Casting her eyes down she waited for the next tirade of Calm down and Don’t blame yourself.

“Has it really only been two weeks?” The genuine bewilderment in his voice made her look up.“I feel I have known you so much longer.”

Her mind drifted back to last night on the balcony, and the emotions that had coursed through her then. Could so much have happened for them both in such a short space of time?

CAROL MARINELLI did her nursing training in England and then worked for a number of years in Emergency. A holiday romance while backpacking led to her marriage and emigration to Australia. Eight years and three children later, the romance continues…. Today she considers both England and Australia her home. The sudden death of her father prompted a reappraisal of her life’s goals and inspired her to tackle romance writing seriously.

The Italian’s Touch

Carol Marinelli

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

‘WHAT time do you call this?’ Bleary-eyed, Kathy pulled open the front door. ‘Whose bright idea was this job share again?’

‘Yours,’ Fleur said pointedly. ‘And next time you have one, please, don’t run it by me.’

‘You know you can’t wait really. Ben’s in the living room, watching cartoons.’ She smiled at Alex who was nervously clinging to Fleur’s leg. ‘Time for a cuppa?’

Fleur looked at her fob watch.

‘Come on,’ Kathy urged. ‘You don’t want to put the rest of us to shame.’

Realising Alex wasn’t going to let her go without a fight, Fleur nodded her acceptance, taking a reluctant Alex through to the lounge before joining Kathy at the kitchen table.

‘Getting nervous?’ Kathy asked, placing a steaming mug on the kitchen table along with a saucer of chocolate Tim-Tams.

‘Terrified,’ Fleur admitted, automatically reaching for a biscuit. ‘I would have thought toast and Vegemite would be more the go at this hour.’

‘It’s not every day you go back to work. I’d say chocolate was definitely more appropriate.’

‘I’m beginning to wonder what on earth I’ve taken on,’ Fleur said gloomily as her Tim-Tam dissolved into an unsalvagable wreck in her coffee.

‘You’ll walk it,’ Kathy said brightly, pushing the saucer towards Fleur.

‘If you tell me it’s like riding a bike, I won’t be responsible for my actions,’ Fleur replied, carefully choosing another biscuit. ‘I’m so rusty I’m even struggling to keep up with the medical dramas on television. Maybe I should have done a refresher course.’

‘Rubbish,’ Kathy said fiercely. ‘You’ve only been away two and a half years, and you’re going to have a reorientation program organised by Super-nurse Danny. You told me yourself that you weren’t going to be in Resus for a few weeks until you got your confidence back, so what’s to know? The sink in the sluice still blocks up. Len the porter is still moaning about his back and Danny ‘‘Mr Unit Manager’’ still thinks that he’s God’s gift to the nursing profession, though I don’t know how, considering the fact he spends most of his day in his office. Mind you,’ she said lowering her voice, ‘there has been a considerable improvement in the EB stakes.’

‘EB?’ Fleur enquired anxiously. Another thing she didn’t know!

‘Eligible bachelors. Namely the dashing Mr Mario Ruffini—he’s the new visiting consultant I’ve been going on about. Let me tell you that when God made that man he certainly had his contact lenses in. Mario Ruffini is reason enough to put your lipstick on in the morning. Now before you say, ‘‘But you’re a happily married woman,’’ I know all that. So happily married, in fact, that I can appreciate a fine specimen when I see one. When you meet him in the flesh you’ll see what I mean!’

She glanced over to the clock on the cooker. ‘Time you weren’t here, I think.’

Fleur never cried—well, almost never and even then only in private—but as she stood to go she felt the sting of moisture as her eyes filled. ‘I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I, Kathy? With Alex, I mean. He’s so clingy at the moment, so scared of any changes…’

Kathy, ever practical, handed her a tissue but, realising a bit more was needed in this instance, enveloped her friend in a warm hug. ‘Of course you’re doing the right thing, Fleur. It’s been over two years since Rory died. It really is time to move on a bit.

‘Look, today you start back at work; it’s a whole new chapter in your life and just what you and Alex both need. It will force you to cut the cord a bit, so to speak. This is going to be the making of both of you and I truly believe things really are going to get easier now. You’ll see.’

And so, after a bit of a last-minute dash, Fleur found herself at handover bang on seven-thirty, feeling rather self conscious in her new uniform, her thick blonde waves tied securely at the nape of her neck. But apart from a couple of anxious stares cast in her direction, on the whole she felt pretty much welcome.

Monday morning in Accident and Emergency, it seemed, hadn’t changed one iota. The waiting room was starting to fill and a few patients lay on trolleys in the cubicles, waiting for the ward rounds to be completed, which would hopefully clear the way for them to move from the department into a bed.

‘In the observation ward, we currently have two patients.’ Moira, the night charge nurse, suppressed a tired yawn. ‘Kane Dwyer, eighteen years old, put his hand through a window late last night. He’s sobering up and starting to feel very sorry for himself. Currently nil by mouth and first on the theatre list for a tendon repair. Strictly speaking, he’s under the orthopaedics, but the beds were full and Mr Richardson gave the OK for him to be held here until he goes to Theatre.’

Fleur listened intently, jotting down the information on a small pad.

‘The other patient is Hilda Green, sixty-five, fell at home with query loss of consciousness. No fracture on the X-ray but Mr Ruffini wasn’t happy and wanted her to stay overnight. She’s for a CT scan this morning.’

Though she was paying attention to all that was being said, Fleur couldn’t help but glance over to the empty resus area. The resus area where Rory had been worked on, where she’d kissed him for the last time while he’d still been warm…

‘Fleur, perhaps you could take the obs ward this morning. A quiet morning might be the best way to go.’ Danny’s voice snapped her back to attention.

‘Sure,’ Fleur replied, relieved at the apparent reprieve from the beastly resus room. ‘Is the hand clinic still held there at ten-thirty?’

‘Yep, and judging by our theatre book it’s going to be a big one. Half of Melbourne must have been stitched up this weekend. I’ll send Lucy, the student, in to help you with the clinic. If you need anything in the meantime, don’t hesitate to buzz on the intercom.’

Fleur managed a confident grin. ‘I’m sure even I can cope with two patients, but thanks.’

‘I can smell perfume,’ Delorus the night nurse cheerfully declared. ‘Which must mean I can go home.’ Her ear-to-ear grin stretched even wider when she realised it was Fleur taking over from her. ‘Honey, it is so good to see you,’ she said, grabbing Fleur in a tight embrace. ‘You, my darling, are just what this place needs to brighten it up. Things aren’t the same here, you’ll soon see.’

‘Rubbish.’ Fleur laughed. ‘You just need a holiday.’

‘And you need some good food inside you—you’re miles too thin. Do you forget to lay a place for yourself when you feed that gorgeous son of yours? I’ll have to bring in some of my fried rice and chicken and put some meat on them bones.’

‘Delorus, I seem to remember that you thought I was too thin when I was eight months pregnant! But, yes, please, to the rice and chicken—there’s always a space in my fridge for your delectable cooking.’ Looking around the small ward, Fleur’s voice took on a more serious tone. ‘How are they?’

‘Nothing to report. Moira gave you the handover, I presume? Kane’s due for his IV antibiotics at eight—I’ll check them with you before I go—and Hilda’s neuro obs have all been stable overnight. She’s knitting away in her bed and can’t wait to get home, like me. Speaking of delectable, Mario is on this morning, and he wants to review Hilda himself after her CT. Now, there’s a real man for you, darling, you’re in for a treat. I’ve got a hot date lined up with him soon. He wanted someone to join him while he sampled the delicacies Chinatown has to offer and, honey, I can’t wait.’

‘Not you as well?’ Fleur groaned. ‘I’d say you’ve got a bit of competition there, Delorus.’

Despite the fact Delorus was easily the wrong side of sixty, she pursed her well-painted lips. ‘Honey,’ she said in a low voice, ‘Mario Ruffini is a hot-blooded Italian. They like a woman with good hips, it’s in their genes, and I’m sure ahead of the crowd in that department.’ Sashaying towards the drug cupboard, she turned and gave Fleur a wicked grin. ‘Girl, that HRT was the best thing that ever happened to me.’

They were laughing so hard it took ten minutes to check the drugs when it should have taken two. ‘Sweet dreams, Delorus.’ ‘I sure hope not.’ Laughing huskily, Delorus made her way out of the ward.

Happy that the drugs were all checked, Fleur decided to introduce herself to the patients before checking over the paperwork

‘Good morning, Mrs Green, I’m Sister Fleur Hadley. How are you feeling this morning?’ Fleur smiled warmly as she pulled the curtains around her to give Hilda some privacy. The observation ward tended to be used as a walkway to the kitchen and staffroom during the day, something that had always irritated Fleur.

‘Just a bit of a headache, Sister.’

The shiny purple egg on her forehead left Fleur in no doubt that Hilda was an expert in understatement.

‘Still,’ the patient continued cheerfully, ‘it’s not bad enough to stop me knitting.’

‘What are you making?’ Fleur enquired, looking at the small pile of brightly coloured circles on Hilda’s bedside table.

‘Beanies. I make little hats for the premature babies. It keeps me out of mischief.’

‘Well, good on you. I’m just going to do a set of obs and then your breakfast should be here from the kitchen. After your shower you’ll be going down for your head CT. Has it all been explained to you?’

‘Yes, Mr Ruffini went through everything. He was very kind.’

Fleur found herself waiting for the inevitable, ‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’ But for once it didn’t come. Hilda’s obs were all satisfactory and, leaving her to her knitting, Fleur made her way over to Kane, who was obviously nervous but doing his best not to show it.

‘I’m just going to give you your antibiotics, Kane, and then I’ll run through the theatre checklist with you.’ Diligently Fleur checked Kane’s ID band against the prescription chart, and though she’d already checked the drugs with Delorus she took a moment to check them again and ask Kane about any allergies. Satisfied everything was in order, she slowly injected the solution into the patient’s intravenous bung in his good hand. ‘You know you’ll be on a different ward once the operation’s over?’

‘Yeah.’ Kane shrugged.

Running through the theatre checklist, Kane continued with his nonchalant demeanour, but when Fleur came to the bit where she asked about any prostheses she saw a glimmer of a smile.

‘No, no false teeth.’

‘Or a wig?’ Fleur asked, giving him a wink. ‘And you’re not wearing any nail varnish, are you?’

He really grinned this time. ‘Not the last time I looked, though I had that much to drink last night you’d probably better check. Who knows what the lads got up to?’

Fleur flicked back the blankets. ‘No, you’re all right.’ She looked up. ‘I bet you’re not feeling the best, apart from your hand, I mean?’

‘I just feel an idiot.’ Kane blushed. ‘My mum’s going to kill me when I get home, she said as much. I don’t usually drink, well, not that much anyway. I guess I’ve learnt my lesson.’

Fleur gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘Pretty painful lesson, huh? I’m sure your mum was just upset, but once she’s calmed down things will be better. Now, if you need anything, just call. The porters will be here to take you to Theatre soon.’

Very soon, as it turned out. Fleur had just got some paracetamol for Hilda’s headache and set up her breakfast tray when the porters arrived with the trolley to take Kane for his operation. As Fleur couldn’t leave the ward unattended, she buzzed on the intercom. ‘Danny, can you spare someone to take a patient to Theatre or watch the obs ward while I go?’

It was Felicity who came, young and chatty and just the tonic for Kane, Fleur decided. She handed him over, running through the theatre checklist yet again.

‘Thanks, Felicity, here’s his X-rays. How is it round there?’

‘The cubicles are filling but Resus, where I am, is empty. I hope it stays that way.’

‘You’ve just jinxed yourself.’ Fleur grinned. ‘Good luck, Kane. I’ll arrange for a porter to bring your stuff up to the ward.’

Stripping his bed, Fleur placed the linen into the skip and removed the name card above the bed then sorted all Kane’s belongings into one of the hospital’s blue property bags, deciding not to ring the orderly to wash the bed until Hilda had been discharged.

Collecting a couple of towels and a wash cloth on the way, she walked over to Hilda.

‘Mrs Green?’ Fleur gently patted her arm. At first glance Hilda appeared to be dozing, her knitting resting in her lap, her glasses on the edge of her nose, but the bottom set of her false teeth was slipping out of her slack mouth and with alarm Fleur noticed her darkening lips.

‘Mrs Green!’ Fleur’s voice was louder, more insistent as she felt for a pulse. Hastily she let the head of the bed down and removed the pillows, grabbing the emergency tray situated on each shelf above the bed. Removing the false teeth which were obstructing Hilda’s airway, she deftly inserted a small plastic tube to keep her airway clear and pulled Hilda onto her side, placing an oxygen mask on before making the short dash to the desk and hitting the panic button which would summon help immediately.

Before she’d even made her way back to the bedside a doctor appeared, immediately sensing the urgency in Fleur’s actions as she raced back to Mrs Green.

‘What happened?’

‘I was just about to take her for a shower when I found her unconscious.’

Not waiting for the rest of the staff to appear, he kicked the brakes off the bed. ‘We get her to Resus now.’

The imperfect English and stunning looks could only mean that this was the man Kathy had been describing. But there wasn’t time for niceties as they pushed the bed along the highly polished floors, the staff standing back to let the all-too-familiar sight pass by.

Gliding into Resus, Fleur immediately attached Hilda to an array of monitors.

‘Her oxygen sats are low and her respiration rate is only six.’

Mario flicked on his torch. ‘She’s blown a pupil. I’ll bag her—you page the anaesthetist and neurosurgeon.’

A couple more staff had joined them now, working on the inert body, setting up IV infusions and an intubation tray. Fleur ran for the telephone and put out the emergency pages but, replacing the receiver, in that instant it hit her— it was all too soon, much too soon. ‘I’ll get Danny.’

‘He’s in his office and Felicity is up in Theatre. I need some IV dexamethasone now.’

Like a deer caught in headlights, she stood there for a second as Lucy rummaged through the drug trolley.

‘Now!’ Mario demanded more loudly.

Her hands shook as she located the drug. Just preventing stabbing herself with the needle, she pulled up the solution into the syringe and handed it to Mario’s impatiently outstretched hand.

‘Run through some IV mannitol.’ He looked at the closed resuscitation doors expectantly. ‘Where the hell is the anaesthetist?’

‘I only just put out the page,’ Fleur replied quickly. ‘They’ll all be up in Theatre.’

‘Then I need you to help me.’ Giving Hilda several swift pumps of oxygen, he removed the ambu-bag and slid a laryngoscope into her slack mouth.

‘Size seven ET tube.’

Two years ago he wouldn’t have needed to ask. The intubation equipment would have been handed to him before he’d even thought it. But this wasn’t two years ago, this was today, her first day back…

Shaking, dropping tubes as she frantically located the correct size, she attempted an explanation. ‘I’m not supposed to be in Resus, I don’t do Resus…’

He looked up, just for a second. The sapphire blue of his eyes seemed out of place with his dark Mediterranean looks, but they were blazing with frustration and anger as he addressed her curtly. ‘Then just what the hell are you doing, working in Emergency?’

His words echoed Fleur’s thoughts exactly.

‘Fleur, what’s going on?’

Gratefully she swung round at the sound of Danny’s voice. ‘My quiet morning just ended.’ Glancing over at Hilda lying flat and lifeless, tubes and wires crowding her body, it might just as well have been Rory lying there. Overwhelmed, overwrought, with a sob Fleur fled the room.

‘G’day, there, sweetie—time for your morning break?’ Beryl, the domestic, made no comment about Fleur’s reddened, watering eyes. It happened all too often in this place. ‘Why don’t youse sit down and I’ll bring you a brew? Now, what would you like—a cappuccino or a caffè latte, or just an espresso?’

For a second Fleur thought Beryl was having a joke, but she started when she saw the huge stainless-steel contraption Beryl was lovingly polishing. ‘Where on earth did that come from?’

‘Dr Mario bought it for us, his first week here. ‘‘How am I supposed to function on this slop?’’ he said, all Latin like, as he threw his coffee into the sink, and that very afternoon here it was. Now, what can I get you?’ Beryl showed her the works and in no time the delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room as Beryl frothed the milk. ‘Just gorgeous,’ she said with a small sigh, and Fleur was positive Beryl wasn’t referring to the coffee!

Sitting in the empty staffroom, Fleur berated herself over and over. She had been a fool to come back, a fool to think she could just walk in to her old job and carry on as if nothing had happened, when everything had changed.

It had seemed such a good idea when Kathy had first suggested it. With the government’s latest drive to encourage nurses back into the work force, job share was a concept that had been bandied around like a supposed gift from the gods. Reasonable shifts, flexible rosters, all like manna from heaven for nurses trying to juggle child care and young children. But half the pay with all the responsibility, Fleur had pointed out when Kathy had first broached the subject.

‘Come on, Fleur,’ she’d urged. ‘You said yourself, money’s a bit tight. And besides, it would do you good to get out a bit more. You know I want to cut back my hours and we’d both have built in babysitters. It’s the perfect solution. Heaven knows, they’d welcome you back with open arms—that place has really been going to pot lately. There’s just not enough senior staff and morale is really low. It would be great for everyone.’

And after a couple of glasses of wine, well, maybe more than a couple, Fleur had found herself starting to agree.

So now here she was, sitting in the staffroom feeling like the biggest failure in the world. She should never have come back, never have let Kathy talk her into it. Not only was it unfair on the staff, it was downright dangerous for the patients!

* * *

In contrast to the first half of the morning, the hand clinic ran smoothly. Danny had been right in his prediction that it would be a big clinic, and patient after patient trooped through—some bandaged, some with slings, others with their injured hands in plastic burn bags. Each hand injury seen in the department was always reviewed the following day, or in this case on the Monday following the weekend. More often than not, a simple re-dressing was all that was required, but in a few cases a more significant problem was detected on review which more than merited the manpower and time that the clinics took. Mario and Luke Richardson, the senior consultant, were both extremely experienced and zipped through the patients. It didn’t take long for Fleur to work out that Mario’s handwriting was truly appalling and it was far easier to stand behind him and listen, rather than try to decipher his extravagant scrawl after he’d seen the patient.

The next hour was spent in a flurry of taking down dressings, listening to Mario’s and Luke’s instructions and then re-dressing the injuries. Luke was friendly and professional, but as the clinic carried on Fleur couldn’t help but notice a few chips of ice in the cool blue eyes of Mario as he handed her the patients’ files. At first she tried to ignore it, sure she was being paranoid, but as the clinic progressed so did Fleur’s unease—Mario was definitely upset with her!

Without looking up, he accepted the final patient card from Fleur and read the notes for a moment before addressing the rather unkempt young man sitting at the desk.

‘So this was the result of falling off a wall, Jason?’

Fleur watched as Mario gently picked up the grossly swollen hand and examined it carefully.

‘Yeah, maybe I got a bit of gravel stuck in it. It’s killing me. That medicine the doctor gave me is useless. I don’t reckon he knew what he was talking about.’

‘I see from Dr Benson’s notes that he asked if you might have been bitten.’ Mario looked up from the hand to the face of the scruffy young man, who shifted awkwardly in his seat.

‘No way, man. Like I said, that doctor didn’t know nothing! I fell, I tell you.’

Mario didn’t comment straight away, not rising to Jason’s aggressive voice. Instead, he slowly turned the hand around. ‘The reason that I am…’ His forehead creased for a moment. ‘How do you say this? Nag,’ Mario said finally, obviously pleased with himself at choosing the right word. ‘The reason I nag is that many people do not realise the harm a small bite can do.’

‘I told you, I fell!’ Jason was becoming indignant now but Mario chose not to notice as he carried on chatting in an amiable voice. ‘Humour me, please, Jason. I need to practise my English.’ He flashed a smile and Jason shrugged. ‘If, and I hear you when you say no, but if this was the result of a bite—say you went to thump someone and their tooth caught your knuckle…’

Jason was seriously rattled now and pulled his hand away but Mario continued unperturbed. ‘Then that would make this seemingly simple injury far more serious. A human bite would be far more dangerous than a piece of gravel. You see, a bite acts like a very effective injection, and in this small space…’ He flicked his hands dramatically. ‘Pow! The germs multiply at a great rate and the hand fills with pus. Of course, if this were a bite, then we would need to admit you and give you intravenous antibiotics. Possibly you would need to go to Theatre to have the wound cleaned to halt the progress of the infection. Anyway, as it is merely from a fall, we don’t need to worry as much. We can increase your oral antibiotics and continue with elevation, and I will see you again tomorrow when I hope to see a great improvement. Sister Hadley here will clean it now for you and put it in a high arm sling.’ Handing Jason a script, he picked up his patient card and started to write.

Instead of getting up, Jason sat there for a moment. ‘Suppose it was a bite and I took the tablets and sling, what would happen then?’

‘Well, I really don’t think we need to go into that, Jason. I’m sure you are sensible enough that you would tell me so that I could give you the appropriate treatment.’

Jason gave loud sniff. ‘Well, come to think of it, I did get mixed up in a bit of a blue on Saturday.’

‘A blue?’

Fleur suppressed a smile as Mario tried to work out that particular Australianism. ‘A ‘‘blue’’ is a fight, Mr Ruffini.’

Mario glanced around at her. ‘Ah, I see. Well, Sister will take you around to the main department and as soon as I finish the clinic we’ll see about getting the orthopaedic doctors to admit you.’

‘How long will I be in for?’ Jason sounded nervous now and nothing like the angry young man of earlier.

‘A couple of days probably, but had you left it longer it could have been a lot more serious. I thank you for your honesty, it has made treating you a lot more straightforward.’

Fleur had to hand it to him, Mario certainly had charm. Most doctors—nurses, too, come to that—wouldn’t have been able to resist a quick lecture. But Mario had put that aside in the interest of his patient and the result was a positively docile young man now who would get the appropriate care.

‘I’d like a swab taken and then could you ask them to put in an IV bung? I’ll be around shortly to write up some antibiotics and refer Jason. Thank you, Sister.’ He gave a very brief on-off smile without meeting her eyes.

Fleur knew he was annoyed with her and, what was worse, she couldn’t blame him. After this morning’s debacle he must be wondering what on earth Danny was doing, taking her back!

Jason was soon settled onto a trolley.

‘How’s the clinic going?’ Danny asked

‘Fine. We’re just about finishing up. Young Jason is to be admitted under the orthopods and needs an IV bung inserted.’

‘So it was a bite?’ Danny said knowingly. ‘He swore blind he’d fallen. How did you get him to open up?’

‘Not me,’ Fleur admitted. ‘Mario forced it out of him, or should I say charmed it out of him.’

‘I must say I’m impressed.’ Danny laughed. ‘So Mario does have his uses after all.’

Fleur gave him a quizzical look.

‘Just joking. I know he’s a great doctor, he’s just thrown the staff into disarray—surely you must have noticed? Lucy is a bumbling wreck whenever he’s near, Beryl has given up cleaning and mans the coffee-machine as if she worked in a café and even Len is taking his bad back to see him.’

Fleur laughed but her heart wasn’t in it, as she knew what was coming next.

‘How are you finding it?’

‘The clinic was fine, but I know I lost it a bit this morning. I’m sorry, Danny.’

Danny patted her arm. ‘There’s no need for that. It was completely understandable.’

‘Understandable, yes, acceptable, no.’

‘It was just bad luck it had to happen on your first morning. Things will get easier. Anyway, you finish in ten minutes, then you can go home and put your feet up.’

Fleur glanced down at her fob watch. ‘Gosh, the morning’s flown. How is Mrs Green?’ She held her breath, waiting for the answer.

‘Still in Theatre. The CT scan showed a massive subdural haematoma. Hopefully once they’ve evacuated the blood clot she should do well. She wasn’t down long.’

‘She was fine,’ Fleur said, almost to herself. ‘It just all happened so quickly.’

‘Then it’s just as well she was in the observation ward and not at home.’

Fleur nodded. ‘I’d better get back and have a quick tidy before I go.’

‘Well, I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. Now, don’t dwell on it, Fleur. It really is good to have you back.’

By the time she got back, the last patient’s injury had been dressed and Lucy was enthusiastically restocking the dressing trolleys. As Fleur joined her, Luke Richardson made his way over, a pile of notes under his arm.

‘Thanks for that, Fleur,’ he said warmly. ‘I must say, I’m glad to see you back. It’s nice to have such a busy clinic run so smoothly.’ He turned to Mario who was somewhat impatiently hovering, obviously anxious to conclude the conversation. But Luke didn’t notice. ‘Fleur’s one of our finest,’ he said enthusiastically.

Mario was obviously choosing to reserve his judgement and spoke only to the top of her head. ‘Indeed,’ he said politely, as Fleur stood there awkwardly. His obvious coolness upset her, and rather surprisingly so. She had been around long enough to witness more than the occasional rudeness or indifference from a colleague. But this felt different. This time it was merited and coupled with the fact that everyone else seemed to get on famously with the wonderful Mario Ruffini.

Her cheeks burning, Fleur gave the two consultants a brief smile before making her way to the changing room.

‘Damn,’ she cursed once the door was safely closed. Day one and already she’d put someone offside. For a second she closed her eyes, resting the back of her head against the door. Surely her job couldn’t be in jeopardy on the strength of this morning? Surely it wasn’t all over before it had even started?

CHAPTER TWO

‘HI MUM!’ Alex gave Fleur a worried smile as he ran towards her. ‘How did it go?’

‘It was fine.’

‘Honestly?’

Fleur nodded assuredly. Some things a seven-year-old didn’t need to hear. ‘Where’s Ben?’

‘He’s in time-out—he had to stay behind for talking too much. He shouldn’t be long.’

As if on cue, Ben appeared, smiling happily, not remotely fazed by his short time in the sin bin. Fleur tried to ignore the unsettling contrast between the two boys. Alex would have been completely devastated—everything these days seemed to unnerve him. Not, of course, that she wanted him to be naughty at school, but he did need to relax a bit more. Kathy was probably right. The extra time with Ben would help, and maybe some of Ben’s happy-go-lucky nature would rub off on Alex. Once again it was rammed home to Fleur that she needed this job for so much more than the money.

By the time Kathy arrived the kids had devoured a bowl of potato chips and a drink and were finishing up their homework.

‘You’re kidding.’ Kathy laughed as she saw the boys with their heads down at the dining room table. ‘I usually have to resort to blackmail. I hear you did a great job this morning.’

‘From who?’ Fleur asked doubtfully.

‘Oh, just the general buzz around the place. How good it is to have you back, that sort of thing.’

‘Fancy a cuppa?’

Kathy shook her head. ‘Better not. Ben…’ she called, picking up his school bag before giving Fleur a wicked grin. ‘What did you think of the Italian stallion? And don’t try and tell me you didn’t notice him—I simply won’t believe you. Apparently he lost his temper with Danny this afternoon,’ she went on. ‘Unfortunately I was stuck in Theatre or I’d have had a glass up to Danny’s wall, but Beryl got the gist. He was roaring his head off about lack of comunicazione and team spirit and disastros waiting to happen. Something must have got under that gorgeous olive skin of his. He’s been all moody and brooding this afternoon. Though it just made him all the sexier if you ask me. Ben!’

Waving cheerfully, Kathy dragged a reluctant Ben down the garden path. Fleur waved back, a sinking feeling of dread in her stomach. So she hadn’t been imagining his mood after all. Mario Ruffini really was cross with her.

Dinner was simple, a shared omelette and salad on the veranda, with Alex carefully picking out anything green, but as she cleared the plates and made her way across the decking Alex’s voice stopped Fleur in her tracks. ‘Was it scary, Mum, going back?’

Battling the urge to force a smile and say ‘of course not’, Fleur turned slowly.

‘A bit,’ she admitted. ‘How do you feel about it?’

Alex fiddled with the newspaper lying on the table in front of him. ‘It’ll be good going to Ben’s and having him come here.’ He paused. ‘But…’

He didn’t have to say it, the poor little guy. After all, the last time his mum had gone to work their lives had been thrown into turmoil. Fleur sat beside Alex and pulled him towards her, kissing the top of his blond curls as she waited for him to vocalise his fears. But even a mum, however devoted, doesn’t always know what’s going on in that little brain.

‘I’m scared it’s too much for you, Mum—being back there, I mean. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I don’t care if we don’t go to see Movie World and everything.’

So he wasn’t scared for himself, just for his mum. Holding him against her, Fleur thought her heart would burst with pride and love. Overnight her little boy had become a man. ‘But a holiday in Queensland with a trip to Movie World would be nice, huh?’

Alex shrugged. ‘I guess.’

‘And a new game for your computer? Look, Alex, we’re hardly going to starve if I don’t go back to work—your dad made sure we were well looked after. We’ve got a beautiful home and a nice lifestyle, and money put aside for you to go to a nice high school, but all the little extras add up. I’m so proud of you for saying that it doesn’t matter, but it does matter, darling, to me. And leaving aside the money, I’m a nurse, Alex. I used to love my work and I really missed it. This is going to make a big difference for both of us.’

Alex looked up. ‘But—’

‘I’m fine,’ Fleur said firmly. And this time there was no question of forcing a smile, it came naturally. ‘I’ve got friends there, good ones. If I get upset they’ll help me through, that’s what friends do. And at the end of the day I come home to you, so what have I got to worry about?’

Not just a man, every bit a male, Fleur thought ruefully as Alex picked up the paper and turned straight to the sports page.

‘Just think, Mum, now you’re working we’ll be able to go to the footy lots!’

Now, there was a good reason to stay home!

Alex was bathed and in his pyjamas by seven, asking to watch a soap that was due to start.

‘Everyone watches it, Mum. They all talk about it at school every morning and I’m the only one who doesn’t get to see it. There’s a hostage on tonight, the police are going to raid the school!’

Which was precisely why she didn’t want him to watch it, but for once Fleur relented. ‘Well, if you get nightmares tonight, don’t come creeping into my bed.’

He didn’t come creeping in, not that Fleur would have noticed anyway. As soon as her head hit the pillow it seemed the alarm clock rang, heralding yet another day.

Assigned to the cubicles in Section B, Fleur found herself awaiting Mario Ruffini’s arrival with some trepidation. Determined to make at least a good second impression, she ensured that the minor injuries that frequented Section B were, as far as possible, ready to be seen by a doctor, removing home-made dressings, cleaning wounds and doing the occasional set of obs.

‘Good morning, Sister.’

‘Good morning, Mr Ruffini. The intern is in cubicle 3, seeing a sprained ankle, I’ve got a couple of minor hand injuries in cubicles one and two and a case of gastro down the end in cubicle seven.’

He nodded politely but didn’t comment as he had a quick flick through the histories. Finally, he spoke. ‘Nothing that can’t wait for five minutes. I’m going to grab a coffee. How do you take yours?’

‘Er, no, I’m fine, thanks.’ Since when did the senior medical staff make the nurses coffee?

‘Fine.’

Things obviously weren’t fine. He’d been polite, he’d even offered to make her a drink, but Fleur just knew he was less than impressed with her.

He returned with a steaming mug, which he placed on a worktop before proceeding to see the patients.

Mario Ruffini was a good doctor, Fleur reluctantly decided. She’d wanted to be able to fault him, to find some flaw that his adoring fans had missed. But he was skilled in his assessments, polite and friendly to the patients and also incredibly fast. His only fault, if you could call it that, was the fact he obviously didn’t like Fleur.

‘I’m pretty sure the child in seven is early appendicitis. I’ve asked Wendy Edwards, the surgical registrar, to come down for a consult.’

‘OK. I was actually just coming to find you. Felicity just buzzed from Resus—there’s a patient in VT.’

VT was the abbreviation for ventricular tachycardia, a rapid but regular heartbeat that quickly exhausted a person and could soon lead to cardiac arrest.

Without comment, Mario picked up his stethoscope and made his way down the corridor.

The second he was gone the tension dissolved but, instead of feeling relaxed, Fleur felt curiously let down, deflated. Why she wanted Mario Ruffini’s approval she wasn’t sure, but bandaging a few sprained wrists and giving out a couple of tetanus shots were hardly the stuff to make him realise what a great nurse she was, Fleur mused, angrily restocking the stainless-steel trolleys.

‘Didn’t Danny sweep for land-mines this morning?’ Wendy Edwards broke into her thoughts.

‘Oh, hi, Wendy.’

‘Fleur, it is you! It’s so good to see you back. How are things?’

‘Great,’ Fleur lied easily. ‘What’s this about landmines?’

‘One’s just gone off in Resus.’ She grinned at Fleur’s bemused expression. ‘Our resident volcano, Mario Ruffini, just exploded. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen him in action yet.’

Fleur gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Actually, I have, about an hour into my first shift back. He hasn’t gone off again, has he?’

‘Big time.’ Wendy pulled a face. ‘I was tempted to stick my head in but I’m sure Felicity doesn’t need an audience. Where’s this kid he wants me to see?’

‘Cubicle seven.’ Fleur chewed anxiously on her lip. ‘Do you know what it’s about?’

‘No,’ Wendy said cheerfully. ‘But you can fill me in when you find out.’

A quick look down the corridor confirmed that as usual Danny was nowhere to be seen, and the rest of the staff were either tied up or deliberately looking busy. Informing Lucy that she wouldn’t be long, Fleur made her way to Resus.

As she opened the door a rocket didn’t actually whiz past her ear, but there were definitely fireworks in the air.

‘Great,’ Mario shouted as she slipped in. ‘Now they send in the nurse that ‘‘doesn’t do Resus’’.’

‘As opposed to what?’ Fleur looked over to where Felicity stood, red-eyed, by the defibrillator. The drug trolley was in chaos, boxes and vials of drugs scattered over the top.

‘As opposed to the nurse who doesn’t know how basic equipment works, or where the drugs are kept.’

Fleur looked at the monitor. The patient was still in rapid VT.

‘I want to cardiovert him, Felicity was trying to defibrillate him.’

‘How many joules do you want?’

‘Two hundred,’ he snarled as Fleur flicked the switch necessary for cardioversion as opposed to defibrillation. Picking up the paddles, she applied them to the gel pads already in place on the patient’s chest.

‘Clear,’ she called.

Mario briefly dropped the ambu-bag he was using to oxygenate the patient. As the patient’s rhythm settled the doors flew open as the cardiac arrest team breathlessly arrived.

‘Did you stop at the canteen on the way?’ Mario shouted as they gathered around the patient’s trolley. ‘I assume you learnt in medical school that brain death occurs after three minutes.’

Charming, Fleur thought, her mouth set in a thin line as she assisted Felicity. At least his arrogance wasn’t only for her benefit.

Danny, of course, turned up when all the drama was over. ‘Fleur, you’re in here!’

‘Again!’ Fleur said pointedly. ‘Could I have a word, Danny?’

Danny’s office was a mess—papers everywhere, overflowing trays of work. Taking a seat, she got straight to the point.

‘Felicity didn’t know how to set the machine for cardioversion.’

Danny let out a long sigh. ‘Well, she should, she’s been to enough lectures. I’ll have a word.’

‘I think a bit more that a word from you is needed, Danny. What is she doing in there when she doesn’t know the equipment? And from what I can make out, she wasn’t particularly crash hot on locating where the drugs and everything were kept. Mario Ruffini was furious and, as much as I don’t approve of his methods, he had every right to be angry. She shouldn’t be in there without supervision until she’s more capable.’

‘So what do you suggest?’ He tossed the roster sheet across the table. ‘Have a look at the choices, Fleur, and tell me who you’d put in there.’

Fleur ran her eyes down the names on the list. He had a fair point—there certainly wasn’t a wealth of knowledge behind the names there.

‘I’ve got a permanent advertisement for staff in the newspapers, I’ve got our department on every nursing agency’s list and yet I still can’t get any more experienced staff. I’m not trying to lay a guilt trip on you, Fleur. I took you on, knowing you weren’t ready to go in there yet, and I’m prepared to wait. I don’t want you to lose your confidence too early and leave, then we really will have achieved nothing. And as for Mario letting off steam, it’s no big deal—he does it every day.’

‘That doesn’t make it all right!’

But Danny just laughed. ‘He takes a bit of getting used to, I admit that, but he does grow on you in the end.’

‘So do warts,’ Fleur quipped. ‘He shouldn’t be allowed to jackboot his way around the department.’ She paused for a moment before continuing. She’d known Danny a long time and they were friends, but it was still a rather hesitant Fleur that steered the conversation. ‘How come you’re not out there a bit more, Danny?’

‘Someone’s got to run the place.’ He gestured to the desk around him. ‘The fairies don’t come in at night.’

‘That never stopped you before. You were always out there helping out.’

‘I’ll have a word with Felicity,’ he said, effectively ending the discussion. ‘And I’ll tell Mario to go a bit easy on her. Anyway, he’s off for the rest of the week at some medical conference so you don’t have to worry about him for a while.’

Fleur stood up. ‘Speak to Felicity, but as for Mario I’d like to deal with him myself.’

Danny looked up to where she stood by the door. ‘It might come better from you, given that you were there. Are you sure you don’t mind?’

‘I don’t mind at all,’ Fleur said darkly. ‘In fact, it will be my pleasure.’

Infuriatingly, now she was actually ready for a confrontation Mario was nowhere in sight. After checking the cubicles and Resus, Fleur thought she’d try her luck in the obs ward. He wasn’t there, of course, but the rather raucous laughter coming from the staffroom soon ended her search.

How did he do it? The doctors he’d been shouting at only fifteen minutes ago were now sharing a coffee and a joke with him, even Felicity had forgiven him and was joining in the laughter.

‘Mr Ruffini?’ Every eye turned to her as she stood primly in the doorway. ‘I’d like a word, please.’

‘Sure,’ he said amicably, though not moving an inch. ‘How can I help you?’

‘Perhaps this might be better done in private.’ Her voice left no room for doubt that she wasn’t happy. Not remotely fazed, Mario gave a nonchalant shrug as he replaced his mug on the table.

‘Excuse me, guys, I think I am being summoned.’ He followed Fleur out of the room. ‘Would my office be private enough for you, Sister?’

She gave a small nod of approval and followed him the short distance.

The sight of his office took the wind out of her sails. Danny’s was a mess but this was an absolute bombsite! Open-mouthed, she stared at the mountains of paper, the opened books, numerous coffee-cups.

‘You wanted to speak with me?’

Dragging her eyes from his desk, Fleur remembered why she was here.

‘I do. You may also have noticed that I asked to speak with you in private.’

‘Yes.’ He gave her a quizzical look, before his face broke into a grin. ‘Do you want me to check for bugs?’

‘Don’t be so flippant!’ Fleur checked herself instantly. This was a consultant she was talking to after all, not Alex—though his office did somehow resemble her son’s bedroom when left unchecked!

‘The reason I asked to speak to you in private is because I believe that when someone has a grievance, while I agree it should be aired, there is a correct way of going about it.’

‘I am sorry, Sister, I really don’t understand what you are talking about.’ He gestured to his chair. ‘May I sit for this?’

His question was unnecessary and curiously insolent, and Fleur stood rigid as he calmly made his way around the desk.

‘You screaming at the staff in Resus is not only rude, it is ineffective. In the time you spent shouting at Felicity you could have shown her how to work the machine. I don’t know how they do it in Italy, but it certainly doesn’t wash here.’

‘Doesn’t wash?’ He screwed up his forehead.

‘You know exactly what I mean.’

‘No, Sister, I don’t. In fact, since you bring it up, I will tell you how things are done in Italy. The staff there are qualified and competent. I do not have to ask three times for a drug, I do not have to stop bagging an unconscious patient and deprive them of oxygen so that I can show the nurse how the machine works. Now do you understand why I shout? And contrary to what you say, I happen to find my methods extremely effective. I got the drug, didn’t I? I got a nurse who could operate the equipment!’

‘There are better ways of going about things,’ Fleur said, though with rather less conviction.

‘On that we can agree.’ He gave her a smile but it did little to reassure her—Mario had definitely not finished proving his point! ‘For example, a better way might be to have the associate charge nurse, which I’ve been told you are, in Resus instead of down in Section B, doing the stuff that is taught to Girl Guides. Who knows? If the nurse unit manager put in an occasional appearance now and then, we might even have a semblance of a well-run emergency department.’

‘You don’t know all the circumstances,’ Fleur replied hotly.

‘So enlighten me.’

She was good and mad now and in no position to pour out her heart to this insufferable man. Turning smartly on her heel, she wrenched the door open.

‘Running off again, Sister? You really don’t like to be where the action is, do you?’

Fleur turned, her eyes blazing. ‘After hearing so many reports about how wonderful you were, Mr Ruffini, I thought we might be able to discuss this. I was obviously wrong. But as you yourself pointed out, I am an associate charge nurse, so next time you have a problem with one of my staff, please, have the common courtesy to allow me to deal with it before you lose your temper.’

‘I don’t doubt that there will be a next time, but I will certainly bear it in mind. Oh, and, Sister?’

Her hand tightened on the doorhandle but she forced herself to answer evenly. ‘Yes, Mr Ruffini.’

‘Would you mind fetching my coffee? I think I left it in the staffroom.’

She didn’t slam the door, that would have been childless and pointless. She didn’t even come up with a smart reply. But the salt cellar was so achingly close to his mug on the coffee-table and she was so blinded with unvented fury that Fleur did what was probably the one reckless thing she had ever done in her life.

And that was that.

War had been declared.

CHAPTER THREE

FLEUR let out an involuntary cry of anguish as she watched Alex leap to grab the football, only to be knocked sideways to the ground by the opposing team. Resisting the urge to run onto the footy pitch, she stood there nervously chewing on her bottom lip as Alex picked himself up, covered in mud but apparently none the worse for wear. Casting an anxious look in his mother’s direction, he gave her a thumbs-up sign before joining his team-mates in yet another mad dash for the oval ball.

‘The more I see of the game, the less I understand.’ A deep, heavily accented voice that could only belong to one person broke her concentration. Blushing furiously, Fleur gave a small nod of agreement. What on earth was Mario Ruffini doing at Auskick?

‘They call it football, and yet they handball, run with the ball, throw the ball. It isn’t even a proper football—it looks like a rugby ball to me. And it’s such a rough game.’

‘You’re not wrong there,’ Fleur muttered, wishing he would be quiet so she could pay attention to the game or, more to the point, Alex.

‘In my country we play real football, or soccer as you call it here. Now, that I understand. But I am slowly starting to learn this game of yours.’ He spoke as if Australian Rules football was a game she’d invented personally. ‘I brought my nephew along today, he loves it with a passion. I’m hoping to get to see a few real matches while I’m here. You know, follow it properly.’

Fleur shrugged, staring pointedly ahead. ‘Oh, well, when in Rome and all that.’

‘Not for a while yet. I’m here for a year.’

‘Pardon?’ Turning for the first time, she was somewhat taken back when she saw Mario. Out of a suit and dressed in black jeans and black crew-neck jumper, he was definitely worth a second look! Sporting a heavy few days of growth on his chin and his dark hair for once unkempt, Mario looked rather more Mexican than Italian. As if he should be in a dusty bar, drinking tequila with a bandanna on his head, not standing in the middle of a muddy footy field in the bayside suburbs of Melbourne.

‘You asked me when I went back to Rome. I was explaining I was in Australia for a year.’

Fleur gave him a bemused look. ‘Oh, no.’ She laughed as she realised what had happened. ‘I meant, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. It’s a proverb.’

It was his turn to look bemused. ‘A proverb—what is this proverb?’

Fleur thought for a moment ‘It’s like a saying,’ she said slowly. ‘An adage. When in Australia, do as the Australians do.’ From the lost expression on his face he obviously didn’t understand. ‘You’ve no idea what I’m talking about, have you? When in France, do as the French do. Like…’ She tried to conjure up an image. ‘Drink red wine and eat lots of cheese and look fabulous.’

A slow smile crept across his face. ‘So when in Australia, I watch footy and have barbecues and drink cold beer?’

‘That’s about it.’

‘Thank you for explaining this to me.’

Glad that at least had been cleared up, Fleur turned back to the game, trying to concentrate while achingly aware of his presence. Cringing as she recalled her actions earlier in the week, she’d expected him to either ignore her or at least treat her in the same curt fashion he did at work, but Mario seemed intent on being friendly as he hovered next to her.

‘Of course you can apply it to smaller things,’ Fleur said, surprising herself by resurrecting the conversation. ‘It doesn’t just have to be about countries.’

‘Now I really am confused.’

‘Well, say you came to my house and you smoked. I don’t smoke, so I’d hope you’d respect that and not smoke in my house.’

‘But I don’t smoke.’

How had she got into this? ‘No. But it if you did, as you put your cigarettes back in your pocket you might say, sadly perhaps, ‘‘Oh, well, when in Rome.’’ Look, I’m sorry. I probably haven’t explained myself very well.’

But Mario’s blue eyes were smiling now as realisation dawned. ‘No, I think you have explained things very well. Thank you.’

For a moment they turned back to the game but he was obviously intent on chatting. ‘See, there is my nephew Ricky.’ He pointed to a dark-haired boy sporting the red and black colours of the Essendon football team. Fleur actually knew Ricky, to look at anyway. He was in the same class as Alex. ‘He is the main reason I am in this country. My sister Teresa emigrated some years ago. It’s hard, realising you’ve got a nephew on the other side of the world that, apart from a few phone calls and pictures, you don’t even know. When the chance for this job came up I jumped at it.’

‘Do you live at your sister’s?’ Fleur asked.

‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I?’

Fleur shrugged. Mario looked more the penthouse type. ‘Doesn’t it cramp your style a bit?’

He laughed loudly. ‘Teresa is not my mother, thank goodness. You realise, if my mother saw us talking like this she would be booking the church already?’

‘That bad, huh?’

Mario nodded. ‘Another reason that I am here—a year off from blind dates was an added incentive. Anyway, the purpose of my year here is to catch up with my sister and get to know my nephew, so living with Teresa makes sense. Which is your son?’

‘Alex, the one in the helmet.’ He was easy to point out as Alex was the only child wearing the non-compulsory protective headgear.

‘Has he a head injury?’

Fleur gritted her teeth. Mario might be good-looking but he definitely talked too much. ‘No, that’s what I’m trying to prevent.’

‘Oh.’

His single word spoke volumes. So maybe she was a bit over-protective, but she was sick of having to justify herself for being a responsible parent. ‘I’m sure that if the other parents realised the dangers, every child on this field would be wearing a helmet.’

Mario didn’t look convinced. ‘I see your son wears the yellow and black colours. That means he supports the Richmond Tigers, yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘They are my adopted team, too. And do you take him to the matches?’

Fleur shook her head. ‘No, well, at least not if I can help it. This is bad enough.’

Mario laughed. ‘So you’re not into football. Well, I guess that’s what fathers were invented for.’

His comment was well meant, of course, but Fleur had to bite her lip as the sharp sting of tears reached her eyes. Thankfully the whistle blew and she was saved from any further conversation as three excited little boys ran in their direction.

‘I kicked a goal, Mum. Did you see?’ Alex, bright eyed and breathless from exertion, ripped off his much-hated headgear and started to cough.

‘Yes, I saw. You played really well.’ Scrabbling in her bag, she pulled out his Ventolin inhaler but Alex pushed it away.

‘Mum, I’m fine.’

‘You’re coughing, you know how it starts.’

‘But I’ve been running for an hour. I’m fine, honest. Hey, Ricky,’ he said turning to his team-mate. ‘Did you see me kick a goal?’

Putting the inhaler back into her bag, Fleur was aware that Mario was watching her. ‘I’d best get them home.’

‘You have two children? I didn’t realise.’

‘No, just the one. Ben here belongs to my friend Kathy—you’d know her from Accident and Emergency— Kathy Fisk.’

‘I know Kathy, good for a gossip.’

Fleur grinned. ‘That’s the one.’

‘Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Fleur. Are you working then?’

Fleur nodded. ‘How was your conference?’

‘Interesting, but now I suffer for the time away from the department. I am going to drop Ricky off and then head in to work. Who knows? I might even get a chance to clear my desk.’

Fleur doubted that. A bulldozer was the only thing that would clear a space in that office. ‘Well, I hope it’s quiet for you. See you, Mr Ruffini.’

‘I’ll catch you later. Isn’t that what they say here?’ And taking Ricky by his muddy hand, they headed off to the car park.

Walking home, Fleur tried to keep one ear on the boys’ conversation as her mind kept drifting back to her chance meeting with Mario. Out of work he’d seemed so much more friendly, amenable even, nothing like the volatile autocrat she’d witnessed before. And Kathy had been right. He really was gorgeous… ‘Ricky’s dad’s taking him to the footy on Saturday.’ Alex announced.

‘Mine, too,’ Ben said proudly.

If only Greg, Kathy’s husband, supported the same team as Alex, Fleur thought for the hundredth time. It wasn’t that Greg minded taking Alex to the footy—in fact, he’d offered umpteen times—but Alex was his father’s son and had no interest in the other teams. Unless the Tigers were playing he simply didn’t want to know. She did take him now and then—usually when Alex had nagged long and effectively and Fleur was on one of her guilt trips about Alex missing out on a father figure—but it was a very occasional treat. The only pleasure Fleur got out of the Tigers winning was seeing Alex’s face, but even that prize came at a price—an extra load of washing so that Alex could wear his beloved footy jumper to school on the Monday. A ‘treat’ dreamt up by the school principal, who obviously didn’t have to scrape off the mud and steam-iron the blessed thing at seven-thirty on a Monday morning.

Kathy, as always, had just put the kettle on. ‘Thanks so much.’ She grinned as Fleur flattened herself against the wall to avoid the two young boys jostling past. ‘It’s my turn for the torture chamber next week.’

Luckily Kathy hated footy as much as she did and didn’t even bother to ask how the morning had gone. Sunday mornings had become fondly known between them as ‘job share’ long before Fleur’s return to work. It suited them both well. Greg was a long-distance truck driver who more often than not worked weekends, and as for Alex’s dad…well, he would have loved the ‘job’ but fate had put a cruel end to that.

‘We nearly didn’t make it this morning,’ Fleur admitted. ‘Alex practically refused to put his helmet on. I told him that unless he wears it he simply isn’t going, so don’t take any nonsense from him next week. If he starts to play up, ring me on your mobile and I’ll come and fetch him. He’s got to realise I mean what I say. It’s for his own good.’

‘Is it?’ Kathy knew she was on dangerous ground here but she persisted, trying to ignore the pursed lips in Fleur’s pale face. ‘Do you really think it’s good for him to be the only kid out there padded to the hilt?’

‘It’s a rough game.’ Fleur said tartly.

‘And Alex is a boy. Rough games are the ones they play best. Look, I know it might be none of my business, but you’re my best friend so I’m making it my business. You know how mean kids can be sometimes about the tiniest thing? Alex wearing that headgear makes him stand out, makes him a target. Not to mention you rushing over every five minutes and driving past the playground umpteen times a day while he’s at school.’

‘I do not,’ Fleur said hotly. ‘I mean, if I’m going past on the way to the shops I might slow down—’

‘And nearly cause a pile-up behind you as you crane your neck, trying to see if Alex is playing with anyone—’

‘I know, I know,’ Fleur interrupted. ‘Look, Kathy, in every other way I’ve got my life together. I’m independent, I’ve got great friends and a bit of a social life under way.’ Kathy’s sceptical look deserved an answer. ‘Or at least I’m starting to—it’s just hard, leaving Alex. I know I’m overprotective, and I am trying to let go, I really am. I just feel so responsible, if anything were to happen to him, I mean. When Rory was alive, there was someone to share it with…’ Her voice trailed off.

‘I’m sorry, Fleur. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. I know it’s hard for you and you’re doing wonderfully.’

‘I wish I believed that.’

‘But you are,’ Kathy said emphatically. ‘You’re a wonderful mother. Alex is a great kid.’

‘But he’s not happy, Kathy. He’s struggling to make friends, he’s even started to wet the bed again. I know my anxiety translates to him but I just can’t seem to help myself.’

‘You are helping yourself, Fleur. You’re back at work, getting on with your life. Alex is going to be just fine, if only you let him.’

‘The only trouble with that,’ Fleur said slowly, ‘is that it’s so much easier said than done.’

* * *

‘Ricky’s eight next month. He’s having a sleep-over party.’

Hearing the wistful note in his voice Fleur trod carefully. ‘That sounds nice.’

‘He hasn’t given out his invitations yet. I expect Ben will be going—he gets invited to lots of parties.’

‘You go to parties, too,’ Fleur pointed out.

‘But not like Ben.’

He was right, Fleur thought with a sigh as she cleared the plates and Alex’s untouched vegetables. But Ben’s father hadn’t died two weeks before he’d started school. Kathy had been happy to get involved with the coffee mornings, school runs and the social chitchat at the school gates while she herself had stood there, shivering despite the hot summer sun, dark glasses covering her reddened eyes, too scared of breaking down to respond to the well-meaning offers of help.

Fleur thought back to Alex’s last two birthday parties— low-key affairs with sombre relatives ducking out for a weep at every turn. Alex deserved a treat.

‘Tell you what, this year why don’t we do something special for your birthday? How about a tenpin bowling party?’

Alex’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’

‘Well, now I’m working I reckon that you deserve a treat.’

‘Cool! How many people can I invite?’

Fleur grinned. ‘Alex, it’s weeks away. I’m sure there’s plenty of time to write up a list.’

The prospect of a party lifted Alex’s mood sufficiently for him to put away the water jug and rather clumsily wipe down the table without being asked three times.

By the time Alex was finally asleep, all Fleur wanted to do was collapse in front of the television but, knowing it would make the early morning start impossible she set about making Alex’s packed lunch for tomorrow and sorting out their school and nursing uniforms.

Satisfied she was organised for the morning, Fleur settled down on the sofa, determined not to brood on the events of the week, but brooding was obviously the theme tonight. Kathy’s words had really rattled her. Fleur knew she exacerbated Alex’s nervousness, knew she had to let up a bit, but it was so damned hard. Everything was so damned hard without Rory.

Time healed.

It didn’t; it didn’t.

Sure, she didn’t wake up each morning sobbing like she used to. Didn’t wonder how she’d get through the next hour, let alone the day. But the agony of her loss was with her with every inch of the way. And she was angry, too. Not just for her and for Alex, but for Rory. Angry for all he’d missed out on. For the roll of the dice that had taken him away from all that he’d loved.

Time didn’t heal, Fleur decided.

You just learnt to live with the pain.

The ringing of the doorbell caught her unawares and it was a rather cautious Fleur that pulled the front door open, peering through the security door at her surprise visitor.

‘Fleur, I must apologise for the lateness of the hour.’

‘Mr Ruffini?’

‘Mario, please. I know it is late, but what I have to say simply cannot wait for the morning.’

His English, though excellent, was somewhat broken and Fleur was sure she could detect a note of urgency. Unclipping the security door, she gestured for him to come through, her heart sinking as she did so.

Mario looked as stunning as ever and Fleur felt drab in comparison, dressed in a sloppy jumper and leggings. When he didn’t break immediately into a speech about her earlier inefficiency, it was left to Fleur to break the rather awkward silence.

‘How did you know where I lived?’

‘Don’t worry, the hospital didn’t give out your address.’ It was a strict work policy that the emergency book which held the staff’s addresses and telephone numbers, in case of a change to the roster or a major influx of patients, was to be used only for what it was intended—emergencies. Too many lessons had been learnt in the past of the dangers of giving out such private information. ‘I used simpler methods, or so I thought.’

Fleur gave him bemused look.

‘The phone book,’ he explained. ‘There were only two F. Hadleys in the area, and Frank was very helpful.’

‘Frank?’ He’d really lost her now!

‘The other F. Hadley thought I’d just come from the airport and was trying to track down a long lost relative. It’s a long story,’ he added, looking at her totally confused expression. ‘The long and the short of it is that Frank and I are playing lawn bowls next Sunday.’

So he’d made another friend. ‘Er, do you want a cup of coffee, or a beer perhaps?’ Fleur asked, trying to think if there were any stubbies in the fridge.

‘Coffee would be wonderful, but only one lump of salt, please.’ Following her through to the kitchen, he watched in silence as Fleur filled two cups from the filter machine.

‘It was an accident,’ she blurted out finally.

‘And do you always blush so much when you lie?’

Fleur handed him the cup. ‘Always,’ she admitted sheepishly.

Mario just laughed. ‘You like a decent brew also?’

‘I might even start drinking it at work now you’ve bought the machine.’ If I’ve still got a job, she nearly added.

Taking the cup from her, their fingers brushed and Fleur suddenly felt incredibly awkward.

‘May we sit?’

‘Of course. Come through.’

The lounge was large and spacious, but a cricket field would have felt suffocating at the moment. ‘Look, I know what this is about,’ Fleur ventured. ‘I’d like to apologise…’

Mario put up his hand, effectively halting her from going any further. ‘It is I who should be apologising.’

‘You?’ Fleur asked, nonplussed. ‘But why?’

‘For my thoughtless comments this morning. I had no idea you were a widower.’

‘A widow,’ Fleur corrected gently. ‘And, please, don’t give it a moment’s thought. You weren’t to know.’

‘Perhaps not, and I am grateful to you for accepting my apology. But that doesn’t excuse this week’s events.’

Here it came! Fleur braced herself for a few sharp words Italian-style but again the wind was taken from her sails when he continued, ‘I most certainly should have known that you were a widow…’ He learns quickly, Fleur thought. ‘I am speechless, no, I am furious, that Danny did not have the decency to tell me. And not just me—all the staff should have been notified about the terrible circumstances surrounding your husband’s death.’

‘But most know anyway,’ Fleur said, instantly defending Danny. ‘I’m sure Danny just assumed—’

‘Then he should not have. He goes on and on about team spirit, comradeship, and then when it really matters he just assumes things are taken care of. I only found out from a passing comment he made this afternoon. I have teared him off a strip.’

Fleur didn’t bother to correct him as she was somewhat taken back by his obvious anger.

‘This must have been a terrible week for you, and undoubtedly there will be many more to come. The staff should be sensitive, helping you through. How can we if we are not even told about something as important as this?’

Fleur let out a sigh of relief. From the way he was talking it sounded as if he expected her to come back. ‘I am sorry, though, and not just about the coffee. I feel as if I’ve let everybody down.’

‘No, Fleur, they have let you down. It all should have been handled so much better. Danny told me you were actually on duty when your husband was brought in.’

Fleur nodded simply.

‘Are you able to tell me about it? Maybe then I can help.’

‘I doubt it.’ Looking up, she saw his eyes were fixed directly on her.

Embarrassed, nervous, her eyes flicked quickly away, her gaze coming to rest on her wedding picture. Perhaps she should tell him. Perhaps then he would understand her fear of going into Resus. And who knew? Maybe he could help.

Swallowing a couple of times, Fleur’s voice came out quietly and Mario had to lean forward to catch what she was saying, his eyes never once leaving her face.

‘It was just a normal Saturday night, busy as usual. I was down for Resus. We got an alert that a multiple MVA was coming in. A motor vehicle accident,’ she explained unnecessarily, but Mario just nodded his understanding as she tentatively continued. ‘As the news started to trickle in we learnt there was a stolen car involved. The police had been in pursuit, and one officer was trapped and one dead. I assured myself at first that Rory couldn’t be involved—he was a detective, not out on patrol. Then the paramedic bringing in the first victim made a casual remark about it having been an unmarked police car. I started to panic then. I knew I had to call him. I knew that I would be useless for work until I heard for myself that he was safe…’

‘Go on,’ he urged, but gently. Making his way across the room, he sat beside her on the sofa as she struggled to continue, his hand reaching for hers.

‘I hadn’t even dialled the station number when I saw Danny walking towards me. His face was grim and I just knew what was coming. I can remember actually feeling sorry for Danny when he delivered the news. It must have been the worst moment in his nursing career—telling a close colleague that her husband, the father of her five-year-old son, was seriously injured, on his way in with full resuscitation in progress.’

‘Did you have to work on your husband?’

‘No, nothing so dramatic. We weren’t so short-staffed then.’ Fleur managed a wry laugh but there was a catch in it and she started to cry. ‘I just sat in the staffroom with the nurse supervisor. She kept offering to make phone calls, but I needed to know how bad it was for myself before I tried to tell others.’ She was crying in earnest now. ‘Then Danny was in the doorway, with Kathy beside him. They didn’t have to say anything. One look at their faces and I knew it was over.’ She looked at the picture on the mantelpiece, the utter despair in her voice so achingly apparent that Mario wrapped his arm around her as if he could somehow shield her from the bitter end that was coming. ‘I knew then that Rory, my Rory, Alex’s dad, wasn’t going to be coming home, not ever.’

He let her cry for a while, his arm tightly around her as she wept onto his chest. Finally, when her mascara had long since gone and she’d reached the hiccoughing stage, he gently sat her up. Without a word he made his way to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water which Fleur sipped gratefully.

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