Читать книгу The Italian's Touch - Carol Marinelli - Страница 7

‘WHAT time do you call this?’ Bleary-eyed, Kathy pulled open the front door. ‘Whose bright idea was this job share again?’

‘Yours,’ Fleur said pointedly. ‘And next time you have one, please, don’t run it by me.’

‘You know you can’t wait really. Ben’s in the living room, watching cartoons.’ She smiled at Alex who was nervously clinging to Fleur’s leg. ‘Time for a cuppa?’

Fleur looked at her fob watch.

‘Come on,’ Kathy urged. ‘You don’t want to put the rest of us to shame.’

Realising Alex wasn’t going to let her go without a fight, Fleur nodded her acceptance, taking a reluctant Alex through to the lounge before joining Kathy at the kitchen table.

‘Getting nervous?’ Kathy asked, placing a steaming mug on the kitchen table along with a saucer of chocolate Tim-Tams.

‘Terrified,’ Fleur admitted, automatically reaching for a biscuit. ‘I would have thought toast and Vegemite would be more the go at this hour.’

‘It’s not every day you go back to work. I’d say chocolate was definitely more appropriate.’

‘I’m beginning to wonder what on earth I’ve taken on,’ Fleur said gloomily as her Tim-Tam dissolved into an unsalvagable wreck in her coffee.

‘You’ll walk it,’ Kathy said brightly, pushing the saucer towards Fleur.

‘If you tell me it’s like riding a bike, I won’t be responsible for my actions,’ Fleur replied, carefully choosing another biscuit. ‘I’m so rusty I’m even struggling to keep up with the medical dramas on television. Maybe I should have done a refresher course.’

‘Rubbish,’ Kathy said fiercely. ‘You’ve only been away two and a half years, and you’re going to have a reorientation program organised by Super-nurse Danny. You told me yourself that you weren’t going to be in Resus for a few weeks until you got your confidence back, so what’s to know? The sink in the sluice still blocks up. Len the porter is still moaning about his back and Danny ‘‘Mr Unit Manager’’ still thinks that he’s God’s gift to the nursing profession, though I don’t know how, considering the fact he spends most of his day in his office. Mind you,’ she said lowering her voice, ‘there has been a considerable improvement in the EB stakes.’

‘EB?’ Fleur enquired anxiously. Another thing she didn’t know!

‘Eligible bachelors. Namely the dashing Mr Mario Ruffini—he’s the new visiting consultant I’ve been going on about. Let me tell you that when God made that man he certainly had his contact lenses in. Mario Ruffini is reason enough to put your lipstick on in the morning. Now before you say, ‘‘But you’re a happily married woman,’’ I know all that. So happily married, in fact, that I can appreciate a fine specimen when I see one. When you meet him in the flesh you’ll see what I mean!’

She glanced over to the clock on the cooker. ‘Time you weren’t here, I think.’

Fleur never cried—well, almost never and even then only in private—but as she stood to go she felt the sting of moisture as her eyes filled. ‘I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I, Kathy? With Alex, I mean. He’s so clingy at the moment, so scared of any changes…’

Kathy, ever practical, handed her a tissue but, realising a bit more was needed in this instance, enveloped her friend in a warm hug. ‘Of course you’re doing the right thing, Fleur. It’s been over two years since Rory died. It really is time to move on a bit.

‘Look, today you start back at work; it’s a whole new chapter in your life and just what you and Alex both need. It will force you to cut the cord a bit, so to speak. This is going to be the making of both of you and I truly believe things really are going to get easier now. You’ll see.’

And so, after a bit of a last-minute dash, Fleur found herself at handover bang on seven-thirty, feeling rather self conscious in her new uniform, her thick blonde waves tied securely at the nape of her neck. But apart from a couple of anxious stares cast in her direction, on the whole she felt pretty much welcome.

Monday morning in Accident and Emergency, it seemed, hadn’t changed one iota. The waiting room was starting to fill and a few patients lay on trolleys in the cubicles, waiting for the ward rounds to be completed, which would hopefully clear the way for them to move from the department into a bed.

‘In the observation ward, we currently have two patients.’ Moira, the night charge nurse, suppressed a tired yawn. ‘Kane Dwyer, eighteen years old, put his hand through a window late last night. He’s sobering up and starting to feel very sorry for himself. Currently nil by mouth and first on the theatre list for a tendon repair. Strictly speaking, he’s under the orthopaedics, but the beds were full and Mr Richardson gave the OK for him to be held here until he goes to Theatre.’

Fleur listened intently, jotting down the information on a small pad.

‘The other patient is Hilda Green, sixty-five, fell at home with query loss of consciousness. No fracture on the X-ray but Mr Ruffini wasn’t happy and wanted her to stay overnight. She’s for a CT scan this morning.’

Though she was paying attention to all that was being said, Fleur couldn’t help but glance over to the empty resus area. The resus area where Rory had been worked on, where she’d kissed him for the last time while he’d still been warm…

‘Fleur, perhaps you could take the obs ward this morning. A quiet morning might be the best way to go.’ Danny’s voice snapped her back to attention.

‘Sure,’ Fleur replied, relieved at the apparent reprieve from the beastly resus room. ‘Is the hand clinic still held there at ten-thirty?’

‘Yep, and judging by our theatre book it’s going to be a big one. Half of Melbourne must have been stitched up this weekend. I’ll send Lucy, the student, in to help you with the clinic. If you need anything in the meantime, don’t hesitate to buzz on the intercom.’

Fleur managed a confident grin. ‘I’m sure even I can cope with two patients, but thanks.’

‘I can smell perfume,’ Delorus the night nurse cheerfully declared. ‘Which must mean I can go home.’ Her ear-to-ear grin stretched even wider when she realised it was Fleur taking over from her. ‘Honey, it is so good to see you,’ she said, grabbing Fleur in a tight embrace. ‘You, my darling, are just what this place needs to brighten it up. Things aren’t the same here, you’ll soon see.’

‘Rubbish.’ Fleur laughed. ‘You just need a holiday.’

‘And you need some good food inside you—you’re miles too thin. Do you forget to lay a place for yourself when you feed that gorgeous son of yours? I’ll have to bring in some of my fried rice and chicken and put some meat on them bones.’

‘Delorus, I seem to remember that you thought I was too thin when I was eight months pregnant! But, yes, please, to the rice and chicken—there’s always a space in my fridge for your delectable cooking.’ Looking around the small ward, Fleur’s voice took on a more serious tone. ‘How are they?’

‘Nothing to report. Moira gave you the handover, I presume? Kane’s due for his IV antibiotics at eight—I’ll check them with you before I go—and Hilda’s neuro obs have all been stable overnight. She’s knitting away in her bed and can’t wait to get home, like me. Speaking of delectable, Mario is on this morning, and he wants to review Hilda himself after her CT. Now, there’s a real man for you, darling, you’re in for a treat. I’ve got a hot date lined up with him soon. He wanted someone to join him while he sampled the delicacies Chinatown has to offer and, honey, I can’t wait.’

‘Not you as well?’ Fleur groaned. ‘I’d say you’ve got a bit of competition there, Delorus.’

Despite the fact Delorus was easily the wrong side of sixty, she pursed her well-painted lips. ‘Honey,’ she said in a low voice, ‘Mario Ruffini is a hot-blooded Italian. They like a woman with good hips, it’s in their genes, and I’m sure ahead of the crowd in that department.’ Sashaying towards the drug cupboard, she turned and gave Fleur a wicked grin. ‘Girl, that HRT was the best thing that ever happened to me.’

They were laughing so hard it took ten minutes to check the drugs when it should have taken two. ‘Sweet dreams, Delorus.’ ‘I sure hope not.’ Laughing huskily, Delorus made her way out of the ward.

Happy that the drugs were all checked, Fleur decided to introduce herself to the patients before checking over the paperwork

‘Good morning, Mrs Green, I’m Sister Fleur Hadley. How are you feeling this morning?’ Fleur smiled warmly as she pulled the curtains around her to give Hilda some privacy. The observation ward tended to be used as a walkway to the kitchen and staffroom during the day, something that had always irritated Fleur.

‘Just a bit of a headache, Sister.’

The shiny purple egg on her forehead left Fleur in no doubt that Hilda was an expert in understatement.

‘Still,’ the patient continued cheerfully, ‘it’s not bad enough to stop me knitting.’

‘What are you making?’ Fleur enquired, looking at the small pile of brightly coloured circles on Hilda’s bedside table.

‘Beanies. I make little hats for the premature babies. It keeps me out of mischief.’

‘Well, good on you. I’m just going to do a set of obs and then your breakfast should be here from the kitchen. After your shower you’ll be going down for your head CT. Has it all been explained to you?’

‘Yes, Mr Ruffini went through everything. He was very kind.’

Fleur found herself waiting for the inevitable, ‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’ But for once it didn’t come. Hilda’s obs were all satisfactory and, leaving her to her knitting, Fleur made her way over to Kane, who was obviously nervous but doing his best not to show it.

‘I’m just going to give you your antibiotics, Kane, and then I’ll run through the theatre checklist with you.’ Diligently Fleur checked Kane’s ID band against the prescription chart, and though she’d already checked the drugs with Delorus she took a moment to check them again and ask Kane about any allergies. Satisfied everything was in order, she slowly injected the solution into the patient’s intravenous bung in his good hand. ‘You know you’ll be on a different ward once the operation’s over?’

‘Yeah.’ Kane shrugged.

Running through the theatre checklist, Kane continued with his nonchalant demeanour, but when Fleur came to the bit where she asked about any prostheses she saw a glimmer of a smile.

‘No, no false teeth.’

‘Or a wig?’ Fleur asked, giving him a wink. ‘And you’re not wearing any nail varnish, are you?’

He really grinned this time. ‘Not the last time I looked, though I had that much to drink last night you’d probably better check. Who knows what the lads got up to?’

Fleur flicked back the blankets. ‘No, you’re all right.’ She looked up. ‘I bet you’re not feeling the best, apart from your hand, I mean?’

‘I just feel an idiot.’ Kane blushed. ‘My mum’s going to kill me when I get home, she said as much. I don’t usually drink, well, not that much anyway. I guess I’ve learnt my lesson.’

Fleur gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘Pretty painful lesson, huh? I’m sure your mum was just upset, but once she’s calmed down things will be better. Now, if you need anything, just call. The porters will be here to take you to Theatre soon.’

Very soon, as it turned out. Fleur had just got some paracetamol for Hilda’s headache and set up her breakfast tray when the porters arrived with the trolley to take Kane for his operation. As Fleur couldn’t leave the ward unattended, she buzzed on the intercom. ‘Danny, can you spare someone to take a patient to Theatre or watch the obs ward while I go?’

It was Felicity who came, young and chatty and just the tonic for Kane, Fleur decided. She handed him over, running through the theatre checklist yet again.

‘Thanks, Felicity, here’s his X-rays. How is it round there?’

‘The cubicles are filling but Resus, where I am, is empty. I hope it stays that way.’

‘You’ve just jinxed yourself.’ Fleur grinned. ‘Good luck, Kane. I’ll arrange for a porter to bring your stuff up to the ward.’

Stripping his bed, Fleur placed the linen into the skip and removed the name card above the bed then sorted all Kane’s belongings into one of the hospital’s blue property bags, deciding not to ring the orderly to wash the bed until Hilda had been discharged.

Collecting a couple of towels and a wash cloth on the way, she walked over to Hilda.

‘Mrs Green?’ Fleur gently patted her arm. At first glance Hilda appeared to be dozing, her knitting resting in her lap, her glasses on the edge of her nose, but the bottom set of her false teeth was slipping out of her slack mouth and with alarm Fleur noticed her darkening lips.

‘Mrs Green!’ Fleur’s voice was louder, more insistent as she felt for a pulse. Hastily she let the head of the bed down and removed the pillows, grabbing the emergency tray situated on each shelf above the bed. Removing the false teeth which were obstructing Hilda’s airway, she deftly inserted a small plastic tube to keep her airway clear and pulled Hilda onto her side, placing an oxygen mask on before making the short dash to the desk and hitting the panic button which would summon help immediately.

Before she’d even made her way back to the bedside a doctor appeared, immediately sensing the urgency in Fleur’s actions as she raced back to Mrs Green.

‘What happened?’

‘I was just about to take her for a shower when I found her unconscious.’

Not waiting for the rest of the staff to appear, he kicked the brakes off the bed. ‘We get her to Resus now.’

The imperfect English and stunning looks could only mean that this was the man Kathy had been describing. But there wasn’t time for niceties as they pushed the bed along the highly polished floors, the staff standing back to let the all-too-familiar sight pass by.

Gliding into Resus, Fleur immediately attached Hilda to an array of monitors.

‘Her oxygen sats are low and her respiration rate is only six.’

Mario flicked on his torch. ‘She’s blown a pupil. I’ll bag her—you page the anaesthetist and neurosurgeon.’

A couple more staff had joined them now, working on the inert body, setting up IV infusions and an intubation tray. Fleur ran for the telephone and put out the emergency pages but, replacing the receiver, in that instant it hit her— it was all too soon, much too soon. ‘I’ll get Danny.’

‘He’s in his office and Felicity is up in Theatre. I need some IV dexamethasone now.’

Like a deer caught in headlights, she stood there for a second as Lucy rummaged through the drug trolley.

‘Now!’ Mario demanded more loudly.

Her hands shook as she located the drug. Just preventing stabbing herself with the needle, she pulled up the solution into the syringe and handed it to Mario’s impatiently outstretched hand.

‘Run through some IV mannitol.’ He looked at the closed resuscitation doors expectantly. ‘Where the hell is the anaesthetist?’

‘I only just put out the page,’ Fleur replied quickly. ‘They’ll all be up in Theatre.’

‘Then I need you to help me.’ Giving Hilda several swift pumps of oxygen, he removed the ambu-bag and slid a laryngoscope into her slack mouth.

‘Size seven ET tube.’

Two years ago he wouldn’t have needed to ask. The intubation equipment would have been handed to him before he’d even thought it. But this wasn’t two years ago, this was today, her first day back…

Shaking, dropping tubes as she frantically located the correct size, she attempted an explanation. ‘I’m not supposed to be in Resus, I don’t do Resus…’

He looked up, just for a second. The sapphire blue of his eyes seemed out of place with his dark Mediterranean looks, but they were blazing with frustration and anger as he addressed her curtly. ‘Then just what the hell are you doing, working in Emergency?’

His words echoed Fleur’s thoughts exactly.

‘Fleur, what’s going on?’

Gratefully she swung round at the sound of Danny’s voice. ‘My quiet morning just ended.’ Glancing over at Hilda lying flat and lifeless, tubes and wires crowding her body, it might just as well have been Rory lying there. Overwhelmed, overwrought, with a sob Fleur fled the room.

‘G’day, there, sweetie—time for your morning break?’ Beryl, the domestic, made no comment about Fleur’s reddened, watering eyes. It happened all too often in this place. ‘Why don’t youse sit down and I’ll bring you a brew? Now, what would you like—a cappuccino or a caffè latte, or just an espresso?’

For a second Fleur thought Beryl was having a joke, but she started when she saw the huge stainless-steel contraption Beryl was lovingly polishing. ‘Where on earth did that come from?’

‘Dr Mario bought it for us, his first week here. ‘‘How am I supposed to function on this slop?’’ he said, all Latin like, as he threw his coffee into the sink, and that very afternoon here it was. Now, what can I get you?’ Beryl showed her the works and in no time the delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room as Beryl frothed the milk. ‘Just gorgeous,’ she said with a small sigh, and Fleur was positive Beryl wasn’t referring to the coffee!

Sitting in the empty staffroom, Fleur berated herself over and over. She had been a fool to come back, a fool to think she could just walk in to her old job and carry on as if nothing had happened, when everything had changed.

It had seemed such a good idea when Kathy had first suggested it. With the government’s latest drive to encourage nurses back into the work force, job share was a concept that had been bandied around like a supposed gift from the gods. Reasonable shifts, flexible rosters, all like manna from heaven for nurses trying to juggle child care and young children. But half the pay with all the responsibility, Fleur had pointed out when Kathy had first broached the subject.

‘Come on, Fleur,’ she’d urged. ‘You said yourself, money’s a bit tight. And besides, it would do you good to get out a bit more. You know I want to cut back my hours and we’d both have built in babysitters. It’s the perfect solution. Heaven knows, they’d welcome you back with open arms—that place has really been going to pot lately. There’s just not enough senior staff and morale is really low. It would be great for everyone.’

And after a couple of glasses of wine, well, maybe more than a couple, Fleur had found herself starting to agree.

So now here she was, sitting in the staffroom feeling like the biggest failure in the world. She should never have come back, never have let Kathy talk her into it. Not only was it unfair on the staff, it was downright dangerous for the patients!

* * *

In contrast to the first half of the morning, the hand clinic ran smoothly. Danny had been right in his prediction that it would be a big clinic, and patient after patient trooped through—some bandaged, some with slings, others with their injured hands in plastic burn bags. Each hand injury seen in the department was always reviewed the following day, or in this case on the Monday following the weekend. More often than not, a simple re-dressing was all that was required, but in a few cases a more significant problem was detected on review which more than merited the manpower and time that the clinics took. Mario and Luke Richardson, the senior consultant, were both extremely experienced and zipped through the patients. It didn’t take long for Fleur to work out that Mario’s handwriting was truly appalling and it was far easier to stand behind him and listen, rather than try to decipher his extravagant scrawl after he’d seen the patient.

The next hour was spent in a flurry of taking down dressings, listening to Mario’s and Luke’s instructions and then re-dressing the injuries. Luke was friendly and professional, but as the clinic carried on Fleur couldn’t help but notice a few chips of ice in the cool blue eyes of Mario as he handed her the patients’ files. At first she tried to ignore it, sure she was being paranoid, but as the clinic progressed so did Fleur’s unease—Mario was definitely upset with her!

Without looking up, he accepted the final patient card from Fleur and read the notes for a moment before addressing the rather unkempt young man sitting at the desk.

‘So this was the result of falling off a wall, Jason?’

Fleur watched as Mario gently picked up the grossly swollen hand and examined it carefully.

‘Yeah, maybe I got a bit of gravel stuck in it. It’s killing me. That medicine the doctor gave me is useless. I don’t reckon he knew what he was talking about.’

‘I see from Dr Benson’s notes that he asked if you might have been bitten.’ Mario looked up from the hand to the face of the scruffy young man, who shifted awkwardly in his seat.

‘No way, man. Like I said, that doctor didn’t know nothing! I fell, I tell you.’

Mario didn’t comment straight away, not rising to Jason’s aggressive voice. Instead, he slowly turned the hand around. ‘The reason that I am…’ His forehead creased for a moment. ‘How do you say this? Nag,’ Mario said finally, obviously pleased with himself at choosing the right word. ‘The reason I nag is that many people do not realise the harm a small bite can do.’

‘I told you, I fell!’ Jason was becoming indignant now but Mario chose not to notice as he carried on chatting in an amiable voice. ‘Humour me, please, Jason. I need to practise my English.’ He flashed a smile and Jason shrugged. ‘If, and I hear you when you say no, but if this was the result of a bite—say you went to thump someone and their tooth caught your knuckle…’

Jason was seriously rattled now and pulled his hand away but Mario continued unperturbed. ‘Then that would make this seemingly simple injury far more serious. A human bite would be far more dangerous than a piece of gravel. You see, a bite acts like a very effective injection, and in this small space…’ He flicked his hands dramatically. ‘Pow! The germs multiply at a great rate and the hand fills with pus. Of course, if this were a bite, then we would need to admit you and give you intravenous antibiotics. Possibly you would need to go to Theatre to have the wound cleaned to halt the progress of the infection. Anyway, as it is merely from a fall, we don’t need to worry as much. We can increase your oral antibiotics and continue with elevation, and I will see you again tomorrow when I hope to see a great improvement. Sister Hadley here will clean it now for you and put it in a high arm sling.’ Handing Jason a script, he picked up his patient card and started to write.

Instead of getting up, Jason sat there for a moment. ‘Suppose it was a bite and I took the tablets and sling, what would happen then?’

‘Well, I really don’t think we need to go into that, Jason. I’m sure you are sensible enough that you would tell me so that I could give you the appropriate treatment.’

Jason gave loud sniff. ‘Well, come to think of it, I did get mixed up in a bit of a blue on Saturday.’

‘A blue?’

Fleur suppressed a smile as Mario tried to work out that particular Australianism. ‘A ‘‘blue’’ is a fight, Mr Ruffini.’

Mario glanced around at her. ‘Ah, I see. Well, Sister will take you around to the main department and as soon as I finish the clinic we’ll see about getting the orthopaedic doctors to admit you.’

‘How long will I be in for?’ Jason sounded nervous now and nothing like the angry young man of earlier.

‘A couple of days probably, but had you left it longer it could have been a lot more serious. I thank you for your honesty, it has made treating you a lot more straightforward.’

Fleur had to hand it to him, Mario certainly had charm. Most doctors—nurses, too, come to that—wouldn’t have been able to resist a quick lecture. But Mario had put that aside in the interest of his patient and the result was a positively docile young man now who would get the appropriate care.

‘I’d like a swab taken and then could you ask them to put in an IV bung? I’ll be around shortly to write up some antibiotics and refer Jason. Thank you, Sister.’ He gave a very brief on-off smile without meeting her eyes.

Fleur knew he was annoyed with her and, what was worse, she couldn’t blame him. After this morning’s debacle he must be wondering what on earth Danny was doing, taking her back!

Jason was soon settled onto a trolley.

‘How’s the clinic going?’ Danny asked

‘Fine. We’re just about finishing up. Young Jason is to be admitted under the orthopods and needs an IV bung inserted.’

‘So it was a bite?’ Danny said knowingly. ‘He swore blind he’d fallen. How did you get him to open up?’

‘Not me,’ Fleur admitted. ‘Mario forced it out of him, or should I say charmed it out of him.’

‘I must say I’m impressed.’ Danny laughed. ‘So Mario does have his uses after all.’

Fleur gave him a quizzical look.

‘Just joking. I know he’s a great doctor, he’s just thrown the staff into disarray—surely you must have noticed? Lucy is a bumbling wreck whenever he’s near, Beryl has given up cleaning and mans the coffee-machine as if she worked in a café and even Len is taking his bad back to see him.’

Fleur laughed but her heart wasn’t in it, as she knew what was coming next.

‘How are you finding it?’

‘The clinic was fine, but I know I lost it a bit this morning. I’m sorry, Danny.’

Danny patted her arm. ‘There’s no need for that. It was completely understandable.’

‘Understandable, yes, acceptable, no.’

‘It was just bad luck it had to happen on your first morning. Things will get easier. Anyway, you finish in ten minutes, then you can go home and put your feet up.’

Fleur glanced down at her fob watch. ‘Gosh, the morning’s flown. How is Mrs Green?’ She held her breath, waiting for the answer.

‘Still in Theatre. The CT scan showed a massive subdural haematoma. Hopefully once they’ve evacuated the blood clot she should do well. She wasn’t down long.’

‘She was fine,’ Fleur said, almost to herself. ‘It just all happened so quickly.’

‘Then it’s just as well she was in the observation ward and not at home.’

Fleur nodded. ‘I’d better get back and have a quick tidy before I go.’

‘Well, I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. Now, don’t dwell on it, Fleur. It really is good to have you back.’

By the time she got back, the last patient’s injury had been dressed and Lucy was enthusiastically restocking the dressing trolleys. As Fleur joined her, Luke Richardson made his way over, a pile of notes under his arm.

‘Thanks for that, Fleur,’ he said warmly. ‘I must say, I’m glad to see you back. It’s nice to have such a busy clinic run so smoothly.’ He turned to Mario who was somewhat impatiently hovering, obviously anxious to conclude the conversation. But Luke didn’t notice. ‘Fleur’s one of our finest,’ he said enthusiastically.

Mario was obviously choosing to reserve his judgement and spoke only to the top of her head. ‘Indeed,’ he said politely, as Fleur stood there awkwardly. His obvious coolness upset her, and rather surprisingly so. She had been around long enough to witness more than the occasional rudeness or indifference from a colleague. But this felt different. This time it was merited and coupled with the fact that everyone else seemed to get on famously with the wonderful Mario Ruffini.

Her cheeks burning, Fleur gave the two consultants a brief smile before making her way to the changing room.

‘Damn,’ she cursed once the door was safely closed. Day one and already she’d put someone offside. For a second she closed her eyes, resting the back of her head against the door. Surely her job couldn’t be in jeopardy on the strength of this morning? Surely it wasn’t all over before it had even started?