CAROL MARINELLI - English Doctor, Italian Bride

‘OK?’ Hugh asked when he turned around.

‘Fantastic!’

‘You will be soon.’

‘Aren’t you going to take off your shoes?’ Bonita almost managed a joke. For one particularly difficult dislocation she’d assisted him with she’d seen him place the ball of his foot in the patient’s armpit to provide traction as he pulled on the arm, though admittedly that had been on some vast, muscle-bound farmhand.

‘I don’t need to for a skinny thing like you. It’ll just pop back in.’ Still she could see the towel over the trolley that Deb would pull on and nerves started to catch up with her as she remembered the pain she’d been in.

‘It’s going to hurt!’

‘It won’t hurt at all. We’ll wait till the sedative has taken effect, and anyway,’ Hugh reassured her, ‘it’s a brilliant amnesiac—you won’t remember a thing afterwards!’

‘Your mum’s on her way pet,’ Deb added, but that only made things worse. The next batch of tears for the day came pouring out as she thought of her mother on the way.

‘She doesn’t need this!’ Bonita sobbed into the paper towel Hugh ripped off the dispenser and handed her, ‘what with dad being so sick and everything… And it’s tourist time; the shop’s really busy at the moment—’

‘Hey!’ Hugh cut off the dramatics. ‘This could be exactly what she needs. You’re going to have a few weeks off with this shoulder—it might help having you around right now.’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Your dad will love having you home…’ Hugh soothed. ‘OK…’ He dragged a stool over with his foot and carried on chatting away as he connected the syringe to the bung, talking to calm her down as he would to any nervous patient. ‘Let’s get this medicine into you. Now, just think nice thoughts—it will all work out. I know things are difficult at home right now, but this could end up being the best thing that ever…’ His voice was sort of slowing down, his mouth moved at normal speed but the words were starting to sound jumbled. She could see Deb walking over and talking to Rita who had come to the theatre door, could see Hugh staring down at her as he quietly and calmly waited for the sedative to take effect, knew that she was OK, because Deb was still happily chatting to Rita and Hugh didn’t look remotely fazed.

He was looking at her again, his eyes holding hers, observing her carefully.

He really did have beautiful eyes, Bonita thought—though green didn’t really accurately describe them. Maybe hazel would be a better choice, because just at the inner rim of the iris there was a swirl of gold. He was smiling at her, a sort of soft, gentle smile that she hadn’t seen in a long time, a patient, kind smile that she remembered of old.

The one that had always made her tummy curl into itself, Bonita thought dreamily.

And even if he was a bastard at times, even if it had been so hard to work with him in Emergency, to see him with her family, these past few months, it was as if all the mist that had surrounded them was finally clearing and just the simple truth remained.

‘I do love you!’

She could see him frown just a touch, see him glance up to where Deb was still chatting, then he gave her a sort of patronising smile. She could feel his hand patting her in a sort of ‘there, there’ motion, as if she had no idea what she was saying, as if she couldn’t possibly know how she felt. She knew she was drifting off and suddenly for Bonita it was imperative that he get it, imperative that she make herself absolutely clear. She tried to lift her head off the pillow, only it was too heavy. All she was able to do was look at him and hopefully the urgency in her eyes might convey this imperative point, as she sensationally elaborated.

‘Hugh—I’ve always loved you.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘ALL done!’ Deb’s smiling face was the first thing Bonita saw as she awoke, her voice soothing as she welcomed Bonita back to the world. ‘Everything’s back where it should be so you should be feeling a lot more comfortable. For now just have a little rest!’

In stages she remembered: the tackle at netball; the journey here; Hugh… She cringed at the scene she’d made when he’d tried to get the IV in and cringed again when she remembered that she’d been sick.

Not that Hugh noticed her cringe now—he barely even glanced at her as he spoke.

‘Wiggle your fingers for me!’ he snapped, deigning to give her nothing more than a cursory glance as he slipped his fingers into the navy shoulder immobiliser and again checked her radial pulse. ‘How does it feel?’

‘Fine.’ Bonita blinked in surprise, because it actually did feel fine. Staring around the familiar room from where she lay, she carried on wiggling her fingers, even rearranged herself a touch on the pillows, and it didn’t hurt a bit! ‘Did it go back OK?’

‘Easily!’ Hugh gave a tight smile. ‘It popped straight back.’

‘How long was I out for?’ Bonita asked, but Hugh wasn’t listening. His duties over, he was back to being his usual abrasive, rude self where she was concerned. He didn’t even attempt to answer her question, just filled out her notes.

‘You were just out for ten minutes or so.’ Deb filled in the silence. ‘Everything went really well.’

‘You’ve got a visitor!’ Rita popped her head around the theatre door, closely followed by Bonita’s mother’s rather striking head of curls.

‘Oh, Bonny! What on earth happened?” Carmel Azetti was one hundred per cent Australian but, having been married to Luigi for forty-four years, some Italianisms had certainly rubbed off. Seeing her daughter, pale, drained and looking wretched, Carmel came marching over with her arms outstretched. In fact, as Bonita, mindful of her newly placed shoulder, cringed on the trolley, she thought it was odd that the one time her mother might just display some affection, she didn’t want her to!

‘Gently Carmel…’ As if Hugh had applied brakes, Carmel came to a stop in the nick of time and Hugh caught Carmel into a hug of his own, which was probably the last thing he wanted to do, given her mother was dressed in grubby jeans and a T-shirt, with even grubbier boots, and she reeked to high heaven of horses! Not that Hugh seemed to mind but, then, he’d always adored her mother—it was the daughter he had issues with!

‘Sorry to call you to come to the hospital like that. It must have given you a fright.’

‘It did,’ Carmel admitted. ‘Mind you, you’d think I’d be used to it by now, three sons and then Calamity Jane here…’ She gave an exasperated sigh as she stared over at her daughter. ‘After you knocked yourself out last year, you said you weren’t going to play netball this season.’

‘The team were short a player!’ Bonita grumbled. ‘They’d have had to forfeit the game otherwise.’

‘Well, I wish they had!’ Carmel sighed, her brief display of affection soon wearing off as she reverted to her rather more usual brusque self. Bonita couldn’t blame her. Her mother had a terminally ill husband, a winery to run, horses to exercise and take care of, and now she had an incapacitated daughter to deal with.

‘I’m sorry, Mum!’ Bonita said. ‘I just didn’t think—’

‘You never do!’ Carmel snapped.

‘Well, I’m going to have to leave you ladies. I’ve got one more patient to wrap up and then I really must get going. Andrew will see you tomorrow at ten a.m. at the fracture clinic,’ Hugh instructed, ‘just to check everything’s OK. Then your GP can take over your care.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘You need to be reviewed tomorrow!’ Hugh clipped.

‘It feels OK,’ Bonita insisted, knowing how busy Sundays were for her mother, how busy every day was for her right now, but Hugh wasn’t having any of it.