‘Is there anything that you need?’
Harriet shook her head. ‘Drew’s going to pack a case for me.’ She registered his frown. ‘He offered to move out, but I told him I don’t want to go back there. I’ll go and sort out my things when I’m more up to it.’
‘So what will you do now? Where will you go?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Harriet said with rather more confidence than she felt. She wanted him to just go, couldn’t bear to see the sympathy in his eyes. ‘Could you pull the curtains as you leave?’
And maybe some of it had been lost in translation, because Ciro did pull the curtains, but remained beside her bed, staring down at her for a while before finally talking.
‘Harriet, what will you do when you are discharged? I mean, who will look after you? Are you going to stay with a friend?’
Why wouldn’t he just leave it, why did he have to just keep pushing, making her feel like some sort of social misfit? It wasn’t as if she didn’t have friends, but, given the fact she’d only been in Sydney six months, they were hardly close enough to ask if she could borrow their spare room to recuperate. But instead of explaining, Harriet gave a tight shrug.
‘What about Judith?’
‘Judith?’ Harriet gave a slightly incredulous laugh.
‘She speaks very highly of you.’
‘Since when were you and Judith on speaking terms?’
‘I telephoned her last night about an hour after she went off duty.’ Ciro shrugged. ‘Our altercation left me with an aftertaste.’ Harriet didn’t even attempt to correct him, his poor English didn’t matter. That he had taken the time to call Judith and set the record straight, even though she had treated him so rudely, had her blinking in awe at his insight. ‘She said that you had already spoken to her and she was feeling much better.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘We both apologised.’
‘She’s as soft as butter really.’ Harriet smiled fondly.
‘And she was most concerned about you when she arrived on duty.’
‘I’m not asking Judith if I can stay with her,’ Harriet responded firmly. ‘I’ll check into a motel or something.’
‘Look,’ he said, as if it were open for discussion, as if she’d actually asked for his help, ‘I’m staying in serviced apartments. They’re very nice, right on the beach, there’s a gym, a pool.’
‘I’m recovering from an operation,’ Harriet snapped. ‘I’m hardly up for an aerobic workout.’
‘The rooms are serviced daily, the beds made, the dishes done—at least you could concentrate on yourself. Why don’t you think about it? It really is a good idea.’
‘I know why you’re doing this.’ Her blue eyes flashed, embarrassment making her angry. ‘Just because you’re the only one who knows what’s going on with my life, it doesn’t mean you have to step in. I’m not asking for help.’
‘And that is what is so annoying!’ Ciro retorted, his response equally sharp. ‘Why you have to make this an issue? And I know,’ he added before Harriet could, ‘that I said that terribly, but don’t correct me to avoid the issue.’
‘I’m not avoiding anything.’ Harriet sniffed.
‘Oh, yes, you are,’ Ciro responded. ‘You’re so damned independent, so damned used to coping with things by yourself, you can’t bear the thought of leaning on someone.’
Independent! Never in a million years would Harriet have used that word to describe herself. She was stunned that that was how Ciro perceived her. Up till then she’d assumed he was feeling sorry for her.
It came as a pleasant surprise to realise that she actually infuriated him.
‘Look, Ciro, we barely know each other. We’ve only worked together for half a night, it’s hardly enough to become flatmates!’
She’d never heard him laugh before, a deep, low laugh, and if she’d been embarrassed before, when he spoke next, Harriet was mortified.
‘Hardly. But I happen to know that the apartment on the floor below me has just become vacant.’
‘Oh.’
‘I could speak to the landlord for you.’
‘Oh.’
‘Would you like me to?’
When she didn’t answer, Ciro pushed a touch harder. ‘The rates are quite reasonable.’ Harriet’s eyes widened as he told her the weekly rental. Clearly, Ciro’s vision of reasonable differed from hers, but the thought of having the bed made and the vacuuming done, of bay views and gentle walks along the beach while she got her head together were starting to make themselves known. Fiercely expensive it may be, but over the years she’d been so boringly good with money, she’d somehow managed to support Drew and put a bit away for a rainy day.
Well, the rainy day had arrived and it was pouring.
Pouring.
Force-ten gales were howling, sandbags were out and it was time to strap on her buoyancy jacket—time to do as the emergency cards on planes said and look after herself first for once and stop worrying about everyone else.
‘There’s also a restaurant on the ground floor. They offer room service.’
‘Sold!’ Harriet said finally.
‘Sold?’ Ciro questioned.
‘That’s a yes, Ciro.’ She smiled. ‘Yes, please. It would be great if you could ask the landlord.’
‘I’ll come and see you tonight before the shift starts, hopefully with a set of keys!’
‘I haven’t got my bag,’ Harriet said. ‘Drew should be bringing it later today. I can write a cheque for the bond then.’
‘No worries.’ Ciro gave her a surprised look. ‘I’m starting to sound like an Aussie!’
‘No, Ciro, you’re not.’ Harriet grinned, and her smile stayed as he walked away from her bedside and stopped to talk with Alyssa, stayed as she lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and stayed despite the fact that this should be the worst day of her life.
There was absolutely no chance of dying quietly on EHU, no chance to lie in bed and lick her wounds. Instead, after her obs had been checked yet again and her drip was taken down and a post-op wash given, Harriet was walked the length of the unit by an eager, chirpy physio. She gingerly put one foot in front of the other and held onto her wound as the blessed woman reminded her incessantly to take deep breaths and to remember to wiggle her toes while in bed. Harriet caught Alyssa’s eye as she walked past. Declining the cheery suggestion to ‘pop back into bed’, Harriet chose instead to perch on Alyssa’s just as lunch was being served.
‘What happened to you?’ Alyssa asked, putting down the magazine Drew had signed. ‘I thought it was you when they wheeled you back from Theatre, but I couldn’t be sure. I mean, you never really imagine the nurses getting sick.’
‘I had my appendix out.’ Harriet smiled, but it changed midway as she winced slightly as she sat on the bed. ‘I’ll be fine in a couple of days. How are you doing?’
‘They’re admitting me to a medical ward this afternoon.’ Alyssa screwed up her nose. ‘They’ve put this horrible tube down my nose into my stomach and if I don’t eat my meals they’re going to feed me some disgusting supplement. I want to pull it out.’
‘It’s just a short-term thing,’ Harriet said softly, pleasantly surprised that Alyssa had even agreed to it.
‘That’s what Dr Delgato said.’ Alyssa sniffed, leaning back on the mountain of pillows supporting her tiny frame. ‘I wish it was him looking after me, not the stupid old fuddy-duddy that came and saw me this morning. He told me off for not eating my breakfast, he said that if I wanted to get better then I had to start eating, but it’s just so hard.’
‘I know,’ Harriet sympathised, wincing at the doctor’s insensitivity, knowing that for Alyssa it just wasn’t that simple.
‘Dr Delgato said that once I’m a bit stronger they’re going to admit me to the adolescent unit.’ Harriet heard the tremor of fear in the young girl’s voice, but any chance of comforting her was snatched away when a nurse deposited a large meal tray on her table.
‘Lunch, Alyssa,’ the nurse said firmly, r
emoving the lid from the tray and pouring out a large glass of milk. ‘I want to see that all gone by the time I get back.’
And she meant well, Harriet didn’t doubt it, but it was just way, way too soon to even be talking to Alyssa like that. Seeing the sparkle of tears in the young girl’s eyes, Harriet watched as Alyssa pushed the peas around her plate, dug her fork into the mashed potato, stabbed at the fish dripping in butter sauce, not once lifting the fork to her mouth. ‘He said he’d come and see me on the adolescent unit to see how I was doing.’
‘Who?’
‘Dr Delgato,’ Alyssa said, and Harriet was hard pushed to keep the frown from her face. It was very easy to make promises, to tell a teary, scared patient when you were trying to placate them that you would be there for them, but it was another thing to see them through. In this case the damage that could be done if Ciro didn’t follow through could be very detrimental—trust was a very important factor with this type of patient. ‘He said that he’d come and see how I was getting on, that I just had to grin and bear it while I was on the medical ward, and that once they transferred me to the adolescent unit it would be better, that I’d be among people who understood. I know that I’m going to be here for ages. The doctor on this morning told me to forget about the concert.’
‘You’re not well enough to dance at the moment.’
‘I know,’ Alyssa admitted. ‘It’s not just the concert, though. If I’d danced well there was a good chance I’d have been given a scholarship…’ Her tiny voice wobbled. Her eyes screwed closed, Alyssa went on bravely, ‘Mum’s going to be so disappointed.’
There was nothing Harriet could say without crossing the line. In a single sentence Alyssa had summed up the complexity of her problems, the pressures, real or imagined, that had brought her to this point, the complex dynamics that fed this insidious disease. And there was so much Harriet wanted to say, so much she wanted to do. She wanted to delve deeper, to help unravel the complex puzzle, to untangle the knots that clouded Alyssa’s fragile mind, but a half-hour gossip on the edge of her bed wouldn’t suffice. Alyssa didn’t need an emergency nurse with empathy, she needed skilled specialist care, and Harriet knew that she must not complicate matters, must not, no matter how much she might want to, say anything that might jeopardise Alyssa’s treatment.
Knew that she wasn’t qualified to help.
‘Oh, come on, Alyssa.’ The nurse was back, frowning down at the plate. ‘You haven’t even tried. You know what this means, don’t you?’
And Harriet had to bite her tongue, knew it wasn’t her place to argue, so instead she took the tiny frail hand in hers as the plate was finally removed, stroked the translucent skin as the nurse set up the kangaroo pump, attaching a large bag of supplement to Alyssa’s NG tube and setting the dose before walking away. Harriet watched as with every whir of the motor a tear slid down Alyssa’s fragile cheeks, knowing, if not understanding, the torture Alyssa felt was being inflicted on her.
‘Dr Delgato’s right,’ Harriet said finally, gently squeezing Alyssa’s hand. ‘Once you’re moved to the adolescent unit you’ll be in the right place, you’ll be getting the help you need. Things will sort themselves out.’
‘Will they?’
Terrified eyes held Harriet’s and even if she wasn’t entirely qualified to answer, surely common sense could prevail.
‘With a bit of give and take,’ she responded finally. ‘From both sides.’
CHAPTER SIX
‘HOPEFULLY this is adequate.’
Turning the key in the door, Ciro pushed it open and stood aside as Harriet gingerly stepped inside her new home.
Ciro had duly picked her up from the surgical ward as arranged when his shift had ended. Harriet had rolled her eyes at the raised eyebrows from more than a few of her colleagues as Ciro had waited patiently for her to be given her discharge letter and say goodbye to the nurses that had treated her.
Drew had barely tried and had spectacularly failed yet again. He had packed a pair of white linen shorts Harriet had been hoping to slim into and a lilac halter neck that was definitely meant for days when one was feeling good about themselves, as opposed to the day you were being discharged from hospital, not to mention the trendy espadrilles that needed slender legs—and those were the wearable bits! A fluorescent pink bikini and a pair of jeans more suited to Alyssa were a couple of other choice items Drew had thoughtlessly tossed in, but at least finally she had her handbag and purse back.
Declining Ciro’s suggestion of a wheelchair, she had instead limped along a corridor that she normally raced down, acutely aware of her pale legs that shouldn’t be seen in white shorts and her straight red hair that had suffered some sort of major collapse under the hospital’s version of shampoo. By the time she’d reached Ciro’s very impressive, very new black car Harriet had been more than ready to sink into the cream leather and close her eyes for the journey ahead.
Until he climbed into the driver’s seat.
Until the scent that had reached her nostrils on their one and only shift together had assailed her again. Until his hand had brushed her bare leg as he’d let out the handbrake.
Out of the relatively safe confines of the hospital, stripped bare of the safety of her uniform, suddenly she had felt exposed and vulnerable and she’d spent the entire journey in a state of nervousness, trying and failing to make small talk. But as they’d driven along the beach road, Ciro had gestured to the apartments set high and proud on a large rock that jutted into the ocean and Harriet’s breath had caught in her throat. She had scarcely been able to believe this was going to be her home for the foreseeable future.
Adequate didn’t come close to describing the massive, sun-drenched apartment that greeted her tired eyes, everything in the huge lounge geared towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that took in the endlessly divine sight of the Pacific Ocean. Waves eternally rolled in, the roar silenced by the closed doors. But, as everyone who stepped in surely must, Harriet walked straight across the polished jarrah floorboards to the balcony, hardly noticing the tasteful occasional furniture. She flicked open the catch, slid the windows open and stepped out onto the huge balcony. In a clever architectural feat, instead of facing out onto the ocean, the architect had angled the building, and as Harriet stepped out onto the balcony she could see exactly why—whichever way she turned the views were divine. Facing outwards, she could see the length of the beach, watch the joggers pounding along, yet if she turned around it was as if she were sitting adrift in the water, watching the pounding waves roll in towards her.
‘It’s divine,’ Harriet breathed. ‘It’s the most amazing view!’
‘I haven’t turned on my television since I moved in,’ Ciro admitted. ‘I’ll just go and get your case from the car.’
‘Thank you.’ Harriet smiled and as Ciro went to go she said it again. ‘I really mean that, Ciro. Thank you so much for doing all this for me.’
‘It really is no big deal,’ Ciro said modestly. ‘I knew that the apartment was vacant and that you needed somewhere to live. Of course, I may live to regret it.’ He smiled at her frown. ‘You might revel so much in your new-found freedom that you take to throwing wild parties every night.’ He pointed to the ceiling. ‘I’m in the apartment above you.’
‘I doubt that I’ll be throwing too many wild parties, at least not on week nights,’ Harriet said.
Suddenly the amazing view dimmed a notch. Turning to face him, Harriet had to squint to bring his features into focus, the harsh morning sun behind him rendering his features unreadable as she voiced an apology that had bubbled for a couple of days now.
‘I was very dismissive of you in the hospital.’
‘Dismissive?’
‘When you told me you’d just come out of a relationship,’ Harriet explained. ‘I was feeling incredibly sorry for myself and to imply that you couldn’t possibly understand what I was going through just because you weren’t married…’
‘And didn’t have surgery th
at day!’ Ciro teased. ‘Or find my lover in bed with someone else!’
‘You were trying to be nice and I was very rude, and for that I’m sorry.’
‘Forget it,’ Ciro said easily.
Only Harriet couldn’t.
Suddenly the details that she had waved away mattered now. Suddenly, for reasons she didn’t even want to fathom, Harriet wanted to know about Ciro’s past, wanted to know if there was someone in his present…
‘You said it hurt,’ Harriet pushed, hoping she could blame her rise in colour on the fierce sun. ‘What happened?’
‘That’s the sort of question that can only be answered over a very large glass of wine,’ Ciro responded, smiling, but something in his voice told her she’d crossed a line, that that subject was closed, and he confirmed it when, without pausing for breath, he headed back inside. ‘I’ll go and get your case.’
Oh, hell!
Groaning with mortification, Harriet waited for her front door to close safely before she headed back inside, her eyes barely registering her new surroundings. Instead, she sat down on a navy leather sofa and buried her burning cheeks in her hands.
’What happened?’ Harriet mimicked her own voice a couple of times, wincing as she did so. What did it matter to her what had happened in Ciro’s past? What business was it of hers to ask him about his relationships? It must have sounded as if she fancied him or something.
Which was ridiculous.
Ridiculous, Harriet affirmed. She had just been making conversation. As if she was even remotely interested in a relationship at the moment. Her marriage had only just ended, she’d just had surgery, she was here to recuperate, to get over the hellish past few days and gather her strength for the undoubted battles that lay ahead. So what if Ciro was good-looking, so what if he’d been kind, so what if he was the only person on earth who she’d trusted with her predicament…?
‘Are you OK?’ Depositing her suitcase on the lounge floor, he made his way straight over to her, clearly mistaking her hunched position on the sofa and groans as some kind of relapse. ‘What happened?’
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