CAROL MARINELLI - The Italian's Touch

Alex’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’

‘Well, now I’m working I reckon that you deserve a treat.’

‘Cool! How many people can I invite?’

Fleur grinned. ‘Alex, it’s weeks away. I’m sure there’s plenty of time to write up a list.’

The prospect of a party lifted Alex’s mood sufficiently for him to put away the water jug and rather clumsily wipe down the table without being asked three times.

By the time Alex was finally asleep, all Fleur wanted to do was collapse in front of the television but, knowing it would make the early morning start impossible she set about making Alex’s packed lunch for tomorrow and sorting out their school and nursing uniforms.

Satisfied she was organised for the morning, Fleur settled down on the sofa, determined not to brood on the events of the week, but brooding was obviously the theme tonight. Kathy’s words had really rattled her. Fleur knew she exacerbated Alex’s nervousness, knew she had to let up a bit, but it was so damned hard. Everything was so damned hard without Rory.

Time healed.

It didn’t; it didn’t.

Sure, she didn’t wake up each morning sobbing like she used to. Didn’t wonder how she’d get through the next hour, let alone the day. But the agony of her loss was with her with every inch of the way. And she was angry, too. Not just for her and for Alex, but for Rory. Angry for all he’d missed out on. For the roll of the dice that had taken him away from all that he’d loved.

Time didn’t heal, Fleur decided.

You just learnt to live with the pain.

The ringing of the doorbell caught her unawares and it was a rather cautious Fleur that pulled the front door open, peering through the security door at her surprise visitor.

‘Fleur, I must apologise for the lateness of the hour.’

‘Mr Ruffini?’

‘Mario, please. I know it is late, but what I have to say simply cannot wait for the morning.’

His English, though excellent, was somewhat broken and Fleur was sure she could detect a note of urgency. Unclipping the security door, she gestured for him to come through, her heart sinking as she did so.

Mario looked as stunning as ever and Fleur felt drab in comparison, dressed in a sloppy jumper and leggings. When he didn’t break immediately into a speech about her earlier inefficiency, it was left to Fleur to break the rather awkward silence.

‘How did you know where I lived?’

‘Don’t worry, the hospital didn’t give out your address.’ It was a strict work policy that the emergency book which held the staff’s addresses and telephone numbers, in case of a change to the roster or a major influx of patients, was to be used only for what it was intended—emergencies. Too many lessons had been learnt in the past of the dangers of giving out such private information. ‘I used simpler methods, or so I thought.’

Fleur gave him bemused look.

‘The phone book,’ he explained. ‘There were only two F. Hadleys in the area, and Frank was very helpful.’

‘Frank?’ He’d really lost her now!

‘The other F. Hadley thought I’d just come from the airport and was trying to track down a long lost relative. It’s a long story,’ he added, looking at her totally confused expression. ‘The long and the short of it is that Frank and I are playing lawn bowls next Sunday.’

So he’d made another friend. ‘Er, do you want a cup of coffee, or a beer perhaps?’ Fleur asked, trying to think if there were any stubbies in the fridge.

‘Coffee would be wonderful, but only one lump of salt, please.’ Following her through to the kitchen, he watched in silence as Fleur filled two cups from the filter machine.

‘It was an accident,’ she blurted out finally.

‘And do you always blush so much when you lie?’

Fleur handed him the cup. ‘Always,’ she admitted sheepishly.

Mario just laughed. ‘You like a decent brew also?’

‘I might even start drinking it at work now you’ve bought the machine.’ If I’ve still got a job, she nearly added.

Taking the cup from her, their fingers brushed and Fleur suddenly felt incredibly awkward.

‘May we sit?’

‘Of course. Come through.’

The lounge was large and spacious, but a cricket field would have felt suffocating at the moment. ‘Look, I know what this is about,’ Fleur ventured. ‘I’d like to apologise…’

Mario put up his hand, effectively halting her from going any further. ‘It is I who should be apologising.’

‘You?’ Fleur asked, nonplussed. ‘But why?’

‘For my thoughtless comments this morning. I had no idea you were a widower.’

‘A widow,’ Fleur corrected gently. ‘And, please, don’t give it a moment’s thought. You weren’t to know.’

‘Perhaps not, and I am grateful to you for accepting my apology. But that doesn’t excuse this week’s events.’

Here it came! Fleur braced herself for a few sharp words Italian-style but again the wind was taken from her sails when he continued, ‘I most certainly should have known that you were a widow …’ He learns quickly, Fleur thought. ‘I am speechless, no, I am furious, that Danny did not have the decency to tell me. And not just me—all the staff should have been notified about the terrible circumstances surrounding your husband’s death.’

‘But most know anyway,’ Fleur said, instantly defending Danny. ‘I’m sure Danny just assumed—’

‘Then he should not have. He goes on and on about team spirit, comradeship, and then when it really matters he just assumes things are taken care of. I only found out from a passing comment he made this afternoon. I have teared him off a strip.’

Fleur didn’t bother to correct him as she was somewhat taken back by his obvious anger.

‘This must have been a terrible week for you, and undoubtedly there will be many more to come. The staff should be sensitive, helping you through. How can we if we are not even told about something as important as this?’

Fleur let out a sigh of relief. From the way he was talking it sounded as if he expected her to come back. ‘I am sorry, though, and not just about the coffee. I feel as if I’ve let everybody down.’

‘No, Fleur, they have let you down. It all should have been handled so much better. Danny told me you were actually on duty when your husband was brought in.’

Fleur nodded simply.

‘Are you able to tell me about it? Maybe then I can help.’

‘I doubt it.’ Looking up, she saw his eyes were fixed directly on her.

Embarrassed, nervous, her eyes flicked quickly away, her gaze coming to rest on her wedding picture. Perhaps she should tell him. Perhaps then he would understand her fear of going into Resus. And who knew? Maybe he could help.

Swallowing a couple of times, Fleur’s voice came out quietly and Mario had to lean forward to catch what she was saying, his eyes never once leaving her face.

‘It was just a normal Saturday night, busy as usual. I was down for Resus. We got an alert that a multiple MVA was coming in. A motor vehicle accident,’ she explained unnecessarily, but Mario just nodded his understanding as she tentatively continued. ‘As the news started to trickle in we learnt there was a stolen car involved. The police had been in pursuit, and one officer was trapped and one dead. I assured myself at first that Rory couldn’t be involved—he was a detective, not out on patrol. Then the paramedic bringing in the first victim made a casual remark about it having been an unmarked police car. I started to panic then. I knew I had to call him. I knew that I would be useless for work until I heard for myself that he was safe…’

‘Go on,’ he urged, but gently. Making his way across the room, he sat beside her on the sofa as she struggled to continue, his hand reaching for hers.