The Italian's Touch (Promotional Presents) Read online

  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 sh
ort 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 we
ll. 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.’