Heart Surgeon in Portugal (14 page)

‘Oh I won’t be driving.’ Ellie escaped to the terrace to pour her drink into the lavender and work out her next move. She needed a clear head to think this through. Rafe went back to his papers.

Supper was served on the terrace and Rafe ate alone. He had seen as much of the red dress as she was allowing him tonight. Mustn’t debase the currency. ‘You’re not eating then,’ he said in that cold tone which made her spine tingle and her breathing quicken with excitement at the dangerously impromptu game she was playing.

‘Obviously not,’ she said with a happy smile. A piece of omelette was in the cupboard for later.

He couldn’t take his eyes off that dress so she turned her back so he could get the startling rear view in close-up.

Lilian arrived earlier than Ellie had expected. She heard a car’s tyres and realised her own was now boxed in, so just as well she’d said she wasn’t going to be driving. Though she was dying with curiosity to see how they greeted each other, Rafe hadn’t offered to introduce her. Ellie skulked in her bedroom, chewing cold omelette and planning to make a noisy exit in a short while, banging the front door hard and clattering down the path on her lofty new Chie Mihara sandals - just about the prettiest, and certainly the most expensive, shoes she had ever owned.

‘Goodbye!’ she called gaily as she crossed the hall, not too loudly because she didn’t want Rafe coming out to see her off. Then it was round the side of the house off with those pink-and-red sandals, up the outside staircase and into her bedroom. The study was on the far side of the house so there wasn’t much likelihood of being overheard - but better to err on the safe side. She crept across the floor and carefully shut her bedroom door then closed the French windows leading out on to their shared balcony, drawing her yellow cotton curtains tightly across so there wasn’t the smallest chink to peep through. Without the ceiling fan whirring away, it was going to be a long and stifling night. But it was going to be worth it. Rafe wouldn’t be able to tell if she was in bed; even if he came out on to the balcony and tried to peer into her room, he’d be unlucky. He wouldn’t have a clue whether she’d got back. Or spent the night away.

Ten out of ten though for the red dress. Ellie slipped it on to its hanger. The look in his eyes, the way RH had gone so silent … oh if only she’d dared offer a penny for his thoughts! One thing she did know, he hated the idea of her going out with Rico… which was
extremely
intriguing.

Ellie sprawled naked on her big bed, the sheet kicked away. Now for the long vigil of waiting and listening … for what? For two pairs of feet coming up the stairs together? It was none of her business, of course it wasn’t! No, she would not demean herself, she would not sink so low. While the light lasted she would read. Because if one good thing was going to come out of this ill-timed illness, Ellie Robey would be well-prepared for professional practice.

So she carried on where she had left off, finishing the chapter on the administration of medicines for registered nurses. People might think it was just a question of handing out a few painkillers and sleeping tablets. Little did they know.

Within twenty minutes she was dozing …

Much later she came to with a start as a car engine roared into life and headlights swung momentarily across her window. She flicked on her mobile and saw it wasn’t even midnight. Then she turned on her side and was fast asleep within seconds, a smile curving her lips though she could have sworn she wasn’t even dreaming.

Rafe had no idea if Ellie was home or not. It was impossible to tell. Her bedroom door was shut and her curtains drawn - yes, he had looked - but she must have drawn them before she went out. Deliberately. So he wouldn’t know if she had stayed out all night.

He went to bed without locking the front door. Ellie would turn the key when she came in.

But at six a.m. when he went downstairs it was only to find that the Casa had stayed unlocked all through the night. Rafe was now furious. The situation was getting unbearable! He did not need this kind of tension winding him up! Better make an early start of it, get away to the Centre and immerse himself in the things that really mattered in his life. He collected briefcase and laptop, and was just going to turn the great key in the lock when he stopped short. If he did that, how would Ellie get back in? Giovana wouldn’t be over for a couple of hours yet. He could leave the kitchen door unlocked - but this wasn’t his house and he was responsible for the place and its contents. There was only one sensible course of action.

‘Ellie?’ he said, rapping sharply on her bedroom door. ‘Ellie!’ To his relief, Rafe could hear stirrings within. A sleepy voice called, ‘Just a minute?’ and next moment there was Ellie, wrapped in a sheet, blinking sleepily at him as he stood there frowning down at her. ‘What time is it?’ she asked, her voice dry and croaky from a night without air or a glass of water.

‘I’m going in early. Should be home tonight by seven.’

Ellie nodded and pulled the door to so that only her face could be seen, peeping round at him. She probably smelled horrid and sweaty and she didn’t want him to get too close.

‘You can have a lie-in.’

‘Oh well I - I wasn’t all that late.’

‘You forgot to lock the front door,’ he said severely.

‘But it’s perfectly safe around here.’

‘Please don’t forget another time.’ His voice was cold. ‘I’d rather you didn’t get us burgled.’

Rafe turned on his heel and was gone.

Rafe had called the Casa ‘home’. He said ‘I’ll be home …’ mused Ellie and took a very cold shower.

There was nothing in the fridge for supper - apart from some stale rolls in a plastic bag, milk and a couple of eggs. All part of Ellie’s plan. ‘I’m not going shopping today,’ she informed Giovana who smiled her gap-toothed grin and nodded cheerfully. ‘Let me help you with the beds.’

Ellie gathered up the basket of clean linen and smilingly indicated that they should go upstairs together and change the sheets. Both beds were king-size. Ironing the sheets must be such a pain. Perhaps Giovana sent them out to a laundry, they looked so perfectly laundered and pressed. Rafe’s room was neat as a monk’s cell. No socks lying about, no jeans left on the bathroom floor, everything tidied away inside the built-in closets. No long dark hairs among the sheets, no sign that anyone was with him last night. And no pyjamas on the bed or under the pillow, she noted.

Giovana whipped off the sheets and Ellie helped her remake the huge king-size bed, her vivid imagination picturing Rafe lying there waiting for her …

They moved on to her room and she felt ashamed at how cluttered it looked after Rafe’s austerity. On a hanger was the black flowery cocktail dress she planned to wear when Rafe took her out to dinner. Well, he’d have to, wouldn’t he. Or starve. And that was no option for ‘
a man of hearty appetite
’!

As it happened, Rafe was early. It was well before six when Ellie heard his car pull up outside. And she just happened to be posing there at the head of the stairs - he only had to look up to see her—when in he strode like an electric storm, slinging his grey jacket and black medical bag on to the hall table, and yelling, ‘Ellie!’

There she stood in her sleeveless black flowery dress with its tiny waist and full skirt patterned with grey and cream roses, her shiny hair knotted up on top of her head, pink-lipped and smokey-eyed and pretty as a picture. And Rafe didn't even glance her way but strode on through the hall and down the passage. Ellie ran down the stairs two at a time, wondering what on earth was the matter. ‘Rafe, Rafe - whatever is it? I’m here!’ He was in the study, gathering up the papers on his desk and pushing them into that black briefcase with the silver initials R.H. stamped on to the leather.

Rafe spoke rapidly. ‘Urgent call from the transplant team. I'm on the next flight home. It's a double job—heart and lungs—on a young man. Take me to the airport and bring my car back here.’

In the ordinary way Ellie would have bridled at this peremptory command, but the urgency of this mission was undeniable and the nurse in her was well aware that this was a rare and extremely skilled procedure. There wasn't a moment to waste. His three-litre Renault would make the journey in double-quick time.

‘We’ve got a suitable donor at last. My patient has been waiting for months.’

‘Right,’ she said. ‘Give me the keys and I'll turn your car round and have the engine running.’

‘Good girl!’ Rafe pulled the keys from his pocket and as he handed them to her his expression changed. ‘Oh but you -’

With a swift shake of her head Ellie took the keys from his outstretched hand and hurried to the car. Within two minutes Rafe was Mr Big once more, hurling himself into the passenger seat and cursing as she fiddled among the unaccustomed switches. If she didn’t get a move on he would miss the last flight.

She covered the distance in record time, driving like the wind, and the moment the Renault came to a halt Rafe was out of the car and heading for the departure lounge. She watched him go, Mr Big in his business suit, formidable, all-powerful and distant as ever. She'd wanted to say
good luck! …
as if he needed luck on top of those outstanding surgical skills. Sadly she rested her head on the coolness of the steering wheel, feeling drained and weary.

Rafe was gone—and he hadn't even said when he'd be back.

A tear trickled down Ellie's cheek and plopped on to her lap. There she sat in Mr Big’s car, in Mr Big’s driving seat, her fingers resting on the leather cover of the steering wheel, summoning up the will to get herself back to the Casa de la Paz. Without him.

When the driver’s door was wrenched open on a rush of air, she cried out in genuine fear. But it was Rafe—his fingers closing over the flesh of her arm, urging her out and into the evening sunshine.

Feeling her tremble, he put a protective arm about her shoulders and pulled her to him. He was breathing harshly as if he'd run back to find her. ‘The tests… I forgot to tell you… The results are back and everything's clear.’

Ellie couldn't think straight. The tests. They seemed to be important… oh yes, that glandular fever. So remote now…

‘Your throat swab had grown a haemolytic streptococcus which proves a mild tonsillitis. Liver function and blood tests absolutely clear.’

He clasped her to him in a big, brotherly, reassuring hug. With her cheek pressed against the expensive cloth of Mr Big’s suit, Ellie clung there in a state of suspended disbelief. It didn't matter if he went away now. She'd be living off her memories for days … If he should kiss her goodbye then her cup of happiness would brim over.

Adorable Ellie—how can I bear to go away like this and leave you? … Man, don't be a fool! This is not your kind of woman. You've got your freedom to do as you please, why spoil everything just because a slip of a girl is gazing up at you with her heart in her eyes?

Rafe bit back the dangerous inclination to throw sense and reason to the winds. Back in London he'd get things into perspective once more—a momentary aberration under a foreign sky.

For a second his fingers increased their pressure on her slender ribcage, then he was walking away from her, his voice carrying back on a note of irony. ‘Don't burn the place down while I'm away … God knows when I'll be back.’

R
afe Harland strode into the Cardiac Centre. His tan had faded to a sallow tint and his features were harsh with fatigue. Dr Flora, as on every Tuesday, would be down in theatre with the general surgical cases. He bypassed her office and went directly to Room Ten where he stayed for a while, going over the situation yet again in his mind, his gaze intently fixed on the still form in the hospital bed surrounded by the apparatus which kept her alive. Evidently over the fortnight there had been no change. That was, he supposed, something to be thankful for; change was only going to be for the worse, and Teresa’s condition hadn't altered in many long months. They had reached the limit of their powers to help her.

He crossed to the window, his fingers massaging the tension in his forehead and cheekbones. In his absence the builders had begun work on the new theatre wing and it looked as if they were making rapid progress. If only the same could be said for this sabbatical: would the research project be finished on time? Was it asking too much of Lilian?

At least there were no problems left behind in London; nothing his team couldn’t deal with at any rate. It had been a packed schedule with little sleep. He'd taken a taxi home to the Casa — funny he should be thinking of the place now as home!— but she wasn't there and nor was her car.

Rafe moved on to the office and checked the in-tray for vital messages and post. Next, the cardiac review patients claimed his attention and he headed through the Centre corridors toward the review wing.

Mary, the pre-nursing student came towards him trundling a dressings trolley she was taking into Room Ten. At the sight of the surgeon her face lit up in a beaming smile and her huge dark eyes glowed a welcome. ‘Mr Harland, sir, you are back!’ Proudly she drew his attention to the trolley she had laid up herself. ‘Nurse Ellie showed me how to do this. Gallipots for the fluids, cotton-wool swabs, artery forceps and these are... er -’

‘Dissecting forceps,’ prompted the surgeon, his tired eyes crinkling with a smile of encouragement, concealing with his customary aplomb any trace of the surprise he was feeling at the mention of Ellie's name. Ellie had shown her? Why should Ellie be here? Was she ill? A frisson of alarm shot through him. Was there something wrong with Ellie?

Mary saw his frown and mistook it for a reprimand. Her face fell. She was a sensitive girl and most anxious to please. ‘M-Mr Harland, I am sorry I was not in Room Ten. I was getting ready the trolley. Sister Cecilia, always she tells us this patient must not be left alone for very long. I do the mouth care right now.’

Rafe laid a reassuring hand on the teenager's arm. ‘No problem, Mary,’ he murmured soothingly. ‘And don’t forget, I'm going to keep my eye on you when you come to London to train in September. Your English is so good now, you’re going to manage very well. But I’ll be there should you need me.’