The Italian's Touch. Carol MarinelliЧитать онлайн книгу.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘HI MUM!’ Alex gave Fleur a worried smile as he ran towards her. ‘How did it go?’

      ‘It was fine.’

      ‘Honestly?’

      Fleur nodded assuredly. Some things a seven-year-old didn’t need to hear. ‘Where’s Ben?’

      ‘He’s in time-out—he had to stay behind for talking too much. He shouldn’t be long.’

      As if on cue, Ben appeared, smiling happily, not remotely fazed by his short time in the sin bin. Fleur tried to ignore the unsettling contrast between the two boys. Alex would have been completely devastated—everything these days seemed to unnerve him. Not, of course, that she wanted him to be naughty at school, but he did need to relax a bit more. Kathy was probably right. The extra time with Ben would help, and maybe some of Ben’s happy-go-lucky nature would rub off on Alex. Once again it was rammed home to Fleur that she needed this job for so much more than the money.

      By the time Kathy arrived the kids had devoured a bowl of potato chips and a drink and were finishing up their homework.

      ‘You’re kidding.’ Kathy laughed as she saw the boys with their heads down at the dining room table. ‘I usually have to resort to blackmail. I hear you did a great job this morning.’

      ‘From who?’ Fleur asked doubtfully.

      ‘Oh, just the general buzz around the place. How good it is to have you back, that sort of thing.’

      ‘Fancy a cuppa?’

      Kathy shook her head. ‘Better not. Ben…’ she called, picking up his school bag before giving Fleur a wicked grin. ‘What did you think of the Italian stallion? And don’t try and tell me you didn’t notice him—I simply won’t believe you. Apparently he lost his temper with Danny this afternoon,’ she went on. ‘Unfortunately I was stuck in Theatre or I’d have had a glass up to Danny’s wall, but Beryl got the gist. He was roaring his head off about lack of comunicazione and team spirit and disastros waiting to happen. Something must have got under that gorgeous olive skin of his. He’s been all moody and brooding this afternoon. Though it just made him all the sexier if you ask me. Ben!’

      Waving cheerfully, Kathy dragged a reluctant Ben down the garden path. Fleur waved back, a sinking feeling of dread in her stomach. So she hadn’t been imagining his mood after all. Mario Ruffini really was cross with her.

      Dinner was simple, a shared omelette and salad on the veranda, with Alex carefully picking out anything green, but as she cleared the plates and made her way across the decking Alex’s voice stopped Fleur in her tracks. ‘Was it scary, Mum, going back?’

      Battling the urge to force a smile and say ‘of course not’, Fleur turned slowly.

      ‘A bit,’ she admitted. ‘How do you feel about it?’

      Alex fiddled with the newspaper lying on the table in front of him. ‘It’ll be good going to Ben’s and having him come here.’ He paused. ‘But…’

      He didn’t have to say it, the poor little guy. After all, the last time his mum had gone to work their lives had been thrown into turmoil. Fleur sat beside Alex and pulled him towards her, kissing the top of his blond curls as she waited for him to vocalise his fears. But even a mum, however devoted, doesn’t always know what’s going on in that little brain.

      ‘I’m scared it’s too much for you, Mum—being back there, I mean. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I don’t care if we don’t go to see Movie World and everything.’

      So he wasn’t scared for himself, just for his mum. Holding him against her, Fleur thought her heart would burst with pride and love. Overnight her little boy had become a man. ‘But a holiday in Queensland with a trip to Movie World would be nice, huh?’

      Alex shrugged. ‘I guess.’

      ‘And a new game for your computer? Look, Alex, we’re hardly going to starve if I don’t go back to work—your dad made sure we were well looked after. We’ve got a beautiful home and a nice lifestyle, and money put aside for you to go to a nice high school, but all the little extras add up. I’m so proud of you for saying that it doesn’t matter, but it does matter, darling, to me. And leaving aside the money, I’m a nurse, Alex. I used to love my work and I really missed it. This is going to make a big difference for both of us.’

      Alex looked up. ‘But—’

      ‘I’m fine,’ Fleur said firmly. And this time there was no question of forcing a smile, it came naturally. ‘I’ve got friends there, good ones. If I get upset they’ll help me through, that’s what friends do. And at the end of the day I come home to you, so what have I got to worry about?’

      Not just a man, every bit a male, Fleur thought ruefully as Alex picked up the paper and turned straight to the sports page.

      ‘Just think, Mum, now you’re working we’ll be able to go to the footy lots!’

      Now, there was a good reason to stay home!

      Alex was bathed and in his pyjamas by seven, asking to watch a soap that was due to start.

      ‘Everyone watches it, Mum. They all talk about it at school every morning and I’m the only one who doesn’t get to see it. There’s a hostage on tonight, the police are going to raid the school!’

      Which was precisely why she didn’t want him to watch it, but for once Fleur relented. ‘Well, if you get nightmares tonight, don’t come creeping into my bed.’

      He didn’t come creeping in, not that Fleur would have noticed anyway. As soon as her head hit the pillow it seemed the alarm clock rang, heralding yet another day.

      Assigned to the cubicles in Section B, Fleur found herself awaiting Mario Ruffini’s arrival with some trepidation. Determined to make at least a good second impression, she ensured that the minor injuries that frequented Section B were, as far as possible, ready to be seen by a doctor, removing home-made dressings, cleaning wounds and doing the occasional set of obs.

      ‘Good morning, Sister.’

      ‘Good morning, Mr Ruffini. The intern is in cubicle 3, seeing a sprained ankle, I’ve got a couple of minor hand injuries in cubicles one and two and a case of gastro down the end in cubicle seven.’

      He nodded politely but didn’t comment as he had a quick flick through the histories. Finally, he spoke. ‘Nothing that can’t wait for five minutes. I’m going to grab a coffee. How do you take yours?’

      ‘Er, no, I’m fine, thanks.’ Since when did the senior medical staff make the nurses coffee?

      ‘Fine.’

      Things obviously weren’t fine. He’d been polite, he’d even offered to make her a drink, but Fleur just knew he was less than impressed with her.

      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