Heart Surgeon in Portugal (15 page)

It was a relief to see the pride and the pleasure in those dark almond-shaped eyes. ‘Where is Ellie?’ he asked, keeping the question casual. ‘You say she’s here somewhere?’

Mary bobbed her head in the direction of the conservatory. ‘Yes yes - Ellie is teaching me good things - good techniques. Techniques is right, yes?’ Rafe patted the teenager’s white-uniformed shoulder. ‘Most certainly is,’ he smiled, concealing his impatience to go and find Ellie.

‘She is there with Kev. She is telling him, Behave Yourself! Dr Flora she does not know what shall be the matter with him but I think he is fainting a lot and getting himself a little bit scared. Sister Judith says: stay here till Mr Rafe will come back from London, but Kev says with the good food inside him he thinks he is better and he will go.’

With a conspiratorial giggle, Mary leaned towards the tall doctor, adding sotto voce, ‘Sister Judith she has hidden all his clothes and his cigarettes. He does swear! And he is … is - er improperly suggesting to me and to Ellie. She really is so cross to him - I was myself frightened by her!’

Good God, this I have to see!
thought Rafe.

He opened the door and ushered Mary with her jingling trolley inside. She’d been brought up in a convent orphanage and was naïve as a kitten. Uncouth young medical students would do more than suggest improprieties. They'd be fascinated by this little dark-eyed madonna.

Pausing at the entrance to the conservatory, Rafe blessed the leafy cover of a giant banana plant. On more than one occasion he'd groused to Dr Flora about the difficulty of locating his patients among all this tropical greenery; but it did have its uses.

Kev's strident Aussie tones could be picked up with no effort at all. He had clearly driven the other ambulant patients back to their rooms.

‘Aw, now look here, Nursie, if you don't give me back my shorts I'll walk outta this nunnery in me ‘jamas!’

Ellie sounded terribly unsympathetic. ‘You’ll get your own clothes back when they’ve been washed and mended so quit fretting.’ There was a pause. ‘Hold your arm out, please.’ Then, ‘Any more of that, Kev, and I shall forget I'm supposed to be a caring person! Now hold that arm steady.’

Stealthily, Rafe moved across to a palm tree, peering through green fronds to get a glimpse of what was going on. Yes, there was Ellie in a white uniform dress, a staff nurse’s navy belt accentuating her waist and the curve of her hips, bending over her patient. Her hair was pulled away from her face and scooped high on the back of her head, held neatly with a tortoiseshell clip. The only visible part of Kev was the back of his shaven sun-bleached head.

The sight of Ellie was doing strange things to the rhythm of the watching surgeon’s heart. It wasn’t something Rafe was used to. He didn’t much like it. For once he didn’t feel entirely in control of himself. And what the hell was he doing, skulking among all this greenery like a guilty schoolboy? What would anyone think if they came in and caught him at it. He stood up, closing his burning eyes and concentrating on the sound of her voice — and other sounds which indicated Kev's blood pressure was being taken.

‘Whatcha writin' on the charts?’

‘Information that will help the surgeon when he gets back from London. He's one of the best heart men going. You don‘t know how lucky you are. He’ll sort you out - and he’ll make you behave yourself! What you just said to little Mary was disgraceful.’

‘Aw, was just joking…what’s this fella’s name?’

‘Mister Harland to you, Kev.’

‘Is he ancient? I bet he’s a four-eyed baldie with a crook back.’

‘Then you’re in for a quite a surprise.’

‘Aha, nursie!’ said Kev knowingly. ‘So he’s a heartbreaker, is he? Has he broken your heart Nurse Ellie? Heart surgeon - heartbreaker, geddit?’

Ellie chose to ignore the jibe and said quietly, ‘He’s a wonderful man. Everyone will tell you …’

At that precise moment the heart man diagnosed that he might be going into fibrillation. He clutched at his chest as if that would keep the organ under control.

‘Aw, hell, what do I need with a heart man?’

‘If there's something the matter with your heart, then RH will know it.’

RH was taking deep slow breaths to steady himself. He heard Ellie say coaxingly, as if talking to a hyperactive infant, ‘Come on Kev, be sensible. All you’ve got to do is stay here, have a rest and lots of nice food till he’s back from London.’

‘Ouch, nursie, that hurt!’

‘Get away with you, that was just a tiny prick for the lab tests. Put this cotton wool on the puncture and bend your arm up.’ Ellie raised her eyes to heaven but she was not unsympathetic. Kev was a bit of a handful and his language could turn the air blue, but he must be pretty scared of what was happening to him. There he’d been, happily backpacking round Europe and then all of a sudden he had started fainting like some anaemic adolescent. Kev was big and strong and fearless — or he'd always believed so. And beneath his protests Ellie could sense he was terrified to find his symptoms had the Centre’s medics puzzled.

‘I haven't got any money, you know,’ he blurted suddenly. ‘I can't pay.’

Ellie was stacking the equipment she had been using on to a trolley. She didn't make a big thing of it, but in passing gave Kevin's shoulder a comforting squeeze. ‘You don’t need to worry about any of that. We’re here to help.’

Kev had the grace to come up with a sheepish sort of smile. ‘Sorry about the language, nursie. I'll try an' watch it when the ladies are around.’

Ellie laughed out loud. ‘What's up, then? Aren't I one of the
lydies
, Mr Wilding?’ It was at this point Rafe emerged from cover and was gratified to witness Nurse Robey turn pale beneath her tan and then a becoming shade of wild-rose pink.

‘Why, Mr Harland!’

It came out in such a gasp the Aussie backpacker gave her a very odd look. Ellie took a firm grip on herself. ‘Very good to see you back, Mr Harland. This is our new patient, Kevin Wilding, admitted earlier this week.’ Amazed by her own apparent self-control, she went on to give the case history to the consultant, Kevin doing his best to saboutage things.

‘'Tis nuthin' now. I jes' wanna get on my way, man. Guess I fainted from an empty tucker bag.’

Rafe now took control and had Kev trotting back to his sunny single room where he lay on his bed, meek as a lamb, a hefty, square-shouldered blond young man, brown as a berry and, Ellie considered privately, looking a sight healthier than the surgeon who was examining him with clinical thoroughness. Rafe looked worn out, and her heart ached to see it. When he'd had a decent rest — that would be her chance to talk to him about Vivienne. Because she was seriously concerned about her friend’s increasing frailty.

They drove in separate cars back to the Casa.

Ellie was worrying all the way home because a good hot meal was what the surgeon needed and he had refused to stay and eat at the Centre. But he poured himself a whisky, waved a dismissive hand and insisted he'd eaten on the Faro flight and wanted nothing else. Doubtfully Ellie regarded the haggard lines of his sallow face; trust Rafe Harland to have crammed in the most punishing schedule at a risk to his own health. It brought a lump of wretchedness to her throat to see this dull-eyed monosyllabic shadow of the man in the midnight-blue suit, slumped in a leather chair in the salon, whisky tumbler dangling from loose fingers. His glazed eyes travelled lingeringly over the girl he hadn't seen for two long weeks. ‘And who decided you were fit for work, Nurse Robey?’

Ellie sat opposite, perched on the arm of a sofa, still in the jeans and loose shirt she had worn on the drive to work. She unfastened the tortoiseshell clip to loosen and shake out her hair, the soft cotton pulling tight across her breasts as she lifted her arms behind her head. Rafe took another swig of whisky, letting it burn the roof of his mouth and send out waves of warmth across his shoulders and down his spine. ‘Well,’ she said with a smile, ‘you were in such a hurry you left the review file here on your desk and Dr Flora rang to say it was needed urgently. I drove to the Centre. Three of the nursing staff were down with a virus. They were desperately short in theatre so I volunteered to scrub — and since then I've been helping out wherever I'm needed.’ She hesitated, her mind replaying that night at Faro airport. ‘I promise you I’ve been absolutely fine. And you did say my tests were clear.’

A morose grunt was Rafe Harland's reply.

‘In fact it’s been -’ Ellie checked herself. She'd been about to blurt out that getting back to nursing had made life without him just about bearable. ‘I've done the tourist bit too,’ she said with determined brightness. ‘Shopped at Loulé market, climbed over the Crusader castle at Silves. And seen quite a bit of Vivienne -’

Rafe’s head was drooping on to his chest, his fingers loosening their grip on the emptied glass.

Ellie knelt by his side, rescuing the crystal tumbler. ‘Go to bed now,’ she said sternly. In the morning; that was when she would speak to him about Vivienne. Something serious had happened while Rafe was away.

Ellie had been down in Albufeira, rather bored, casually dressed in white shorts and her faded red tee shirt, her hair tied back in a green spotted handkerchief, dusty toes thrust into green espadrilles. Who was there to look nice for, with Rafe so far away in London? She was gazing into the window of the patisserie at a mouth-watering array of cakes, pastries and marzipan fancies when she suddenly decided she would drop in on Vivienne. One of these dainty little morsels might tempt her delicate appetite…

A silver Mercedes was parked in the lane near the villas but Ellie didn’t give it more than a glance or a second’s thought. At the bungalow’s front door she knocked and waited, humming a happy little tune and looking forward to an afternoon that would take her mind off the subject of Rafe Harland. So when the door opened to reveal not Vivienne but a half-naked and astoundingly good-looking Italian, Ellie was ready to beat a hasty retreat. Till she recognised from his photograph - at long last - Ricardo Schiapa!

He seemed rather appreciative of her shrunken tee-shirt and bare brown legs - and his eyes, when at last he tore them away from checking her out, were an azure blue that could only be Vivienne’s eyes. If Ellie had been expecting a sexy Italian accent, she was in for a shock. ‘Well … hello there!’ drawled a very English voice. Of course, hadn’t Vivienne told her that her son had been at Eton?

Rico must have been in the sea for his wet purple-patterned Vilebrequin swim-shorts outlined the muscular contours of lean hips and strong thighs, and a deep tan covered every inch of his toned physique. Damp black curls licked his temples like wavering flames. But he wasn’t much taller than she was, which made him less intimidating. ‘I’m Eleanor Robey,’ she smiled, ‘I know Vivienne isn’t expecting me but I thought if she -’

Her face suddenly clouded over and Rico thought it was like the sun going in just when you were basking in its warmth. ‘Viv! Is she -?’ the visitor asked anxiously, eyes widening in alarm.

‘Sleeping.’ Rico put his finger to his lips, stepped outside and closed the gloss-green front door behind him. ‘She’s taken a pill so I took the chance to cool off, have a swim. Heard your car just as I came back. Do you mind if we go round the side - I don’t want my mother to hear us.’

He led Ellie into the garden and they perched together on the balustrade overlooking the beach. Rico’s shorts made a damp patch on the stone and he must have felt a bit uncomfortable for he stood up and began to pace back and forwards, letting the sunshine dry him. ‘I don’t know whether Vivienne said anything about me,’ began Ellie, only to be interrupted when Rico said oh brother, oh yes, he had heard all about her and it was a wonder Ellie Robey’s ears weren’t burning the way Viv sang her praises.

How theatrical to call your mother by her first name!
Ellie squinted up at him, silhouetted there against the brilliant sky. Rico was definitely gorgeous. Even though he wasn’t very tall he had all the confidence of a thunderingly attractive man who, right now, was behaving as if Ellie was the one person in the world he most wanted to spend time with.

‘Ellie,’ he said in a rush, ‘is Viv keeping something from me? I mean, you’re a nurse and all that. Has she confided in you?’

‘No no no no! Vivienne’s not said anything about being ill.’ Ellie hesitated, choosing her words carefully. ‘But from spending time with her, I can tell things aren’t right. What does your doctor say?’

‘That’s just it. She’s the most squeamish woman on the face of the earth. Won’t have a doctor come anywhere near her. Positively paranoid!’ He raked a frustrated hand through his hair till it stood up like a dark halo. ‘She tries to tell me nothing’s wrong. Props herself upright on mounds of pillows and waits like some elegant ostrich for the trouble to go away of its own accord - and it’s true she has got over these turns in the past. But she shouldn’t be alone, should she. Not with a history of heart trouble.’

He saw Ellie’s sudden frown and it dawned that his mother really hadn’t confided in her nurse friend. ‘See what I’m up against? I sent one of our hotel nurses down here but Viv wouldn’t let her in! She only wants
me
around and much as I want to, I
cannot
be here all the time, I have a big hotel to manage. Honestly Ellie, I’m at my wits end.’

The concern and compassion in the wide hazel eyes looking up at him spurred Rico on. ‘There you were on the doorstep, Ellie, looking like an angel, and I was suddenly struck by the thought that since Viv's taken such a shine to you, maybe she'd see sense if you tell her she really must seek medical help before it’s … before it’s too late.’ Rico’s voice quavered and Ellie felt her own eyes sting with tears. ‘Last night she was particularly bad - crying out for air even though I’d opened every window.’

‘Oh, Ricardo! There must be something I can do!’ Ellie was on her feet, anxious to waste no more time. They would have to bring in oxygen cylinders if things were as bad as she feared.

In her bedroom Vivienne lay slumped against a mound of untidy pillows, flushed and frail and labouring for breath. Ellie woke her gently. ‘Hello, Vivienne darling … it’s me, Ellie.’ Vivienne’s eyes gladdened but she coughed painfully and couldn’t speak. ‘We’re going to make you a bit more comfortable. Now Rico, you support your mother while I tidy the bed.’ With calm efficiency Ellie smoothed sheets and plumped pillows, then with a cool flannel dampened with eau-de-cologne freshened the thin face and beautiful hands. Her expression reassuring and compassionate, she took Vivienne’s pulse, her sharp mind memorising every clinical symptom. ‘I wish you had sent for me, dear Viv,’ she murmured, ‘you know I would have come straightaway.’