The Italian's Touch (Promotional Presents) Read online

  “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

  BY

  CAROL MARINELLI

  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 s
ure 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?’