Читать книгу The Sicilian Doctor's Proposal - Sarah Morgan - Страница 7

GIOVANNI MORETTI stood at the top of the narrow cobbled street, flexed his broad shoulders to try and ease the tension from the journey and breathed in the fresh, clean sea air. Above him, seagulls shrieked and swooped in the hope of benefiting from the early morning catch.

Sounds of the sea.

He paused for a moment, his fingers tucked into the pockets of his faded jeans, his dark eyes slightly narrowed as he scanned the pretty painted cottages that led down to the busy harbour. Window-boxes and terracotta pots were crammed full with brightly coloured geraniums and tumbling lobelia and a smile touched his handsome face. Before today he’d thought that places like this existed only in the imagination of artists. It was as far from the dusty, traffic-clogged streets of Milan as it was possible to be, and he felt a welcome feeling of calm wash over him.

He’d been right to agree to take this job, he mused silently, remembering all the arguments he’d been presented with. Right to choose this moment to slow the pace of his life and leave Italy.

It was early in the morning but warm, tempting smells of baking flavoured the air and already the street seemed alive with activity.

A few people in flip-flops and shorts, who he took to be tourists, meandered down towards the harbour in search of early morning entertainment while others jostled each other in their eagerness to join the queue in the bakery and emerged clutching bags of hot, fragrant croissants and rolls.

His own stomach rumbled and he reminded himself that he hadn’t eaten anything since he’d left Milan the night before. Fast food had never interested him. He preferred to wait for the real thing. And the bakery looked like the real thing.

He needed a shower and a shave but there was no chance of that until he’d picked up the key to his accommodation and he doubted his new partner was even in the surgery yet. He glanced at his watch and decided that he just about had time to eat something and still time his arrival to see her just before she started work.

He strolled into the bakery and smiled at the pretty girl behind the counter. ‘Buongiorno—good morning.’

She glanced up and caught the smile. Her blue eyes widened in feminine appreciation. ‘Hello. What can I offer you?’

It was obvious from the look in those eyes that she was prepared to offer him the moon but Gio ignored the mute invitation he saw in her eyes and studied the pastries on offer, accustomed to keeping women at a polite distance. He’d always been choosy when it came to women. Too choosy, some might say. ‘What’s good?’

‘Oh—well…’ The girl lifted a hand to her face, her cheeks suddenly pink. ‘The pain au chocolat is my favourite but the almond croissant is our biggest seller. Take away or eat in?’

For the first time Gio noticed the small round tables covered in cheerful blue gingham, positioned by the window at the back of the shop. ‘Eat in.’ It was still so early he doubted that his partner had even reached the surgery yet. ‘I’ll take an almond croissant and a double espresso. Grazie.’

He selected the table with the best view over the harbour. The coffee turned out to be exceptionally good, the croissant wickedly sweet, and by the time he’d finished the last of his breakfast he’d decided that spending the summer in this quaint little village was going to be no hardship at all.

‘Are you on holiday?’ The girl on the till was putting croissants into bags faster than the chef could take them from the oven and still the queue didn’t seem to diminish.

Gio dug his hand into his pocket and paid the bill. ‘Not on holiday.’ Although a holiday would have been welcome, he mused, his eyes still on the boats bobbing in the harbour. ‘I’m working.’

‘Working?’ She handed him change. ‘Where?’

‘Here. I’m a doctor. A GP, to be precise.’ It still felt strange to him to call himself that. For years he’d been a surgeon and he still considered himself to be a surgeon. But fate had decreed otherwise.

‘You’re our new doctor?’

He nodded, aware that after driving through the night he didn’t exactly look the part. He could have been evasive, of course, but his new role in the community was hardly likely to remain a secret for long in a place this small. And, anyway, he didn’t believe in being evasive. What was the harm in announcing himself? ‘Having told you that, I might as well take advantage of your local knowledge. How does Dr Anderson take her coffee?’

All that he knew about his new partner was what David had shared in their brief phone conversation. He knew that she was married to her job, very academic and extremely serious. Already he’d formed an image of her in his mind. Tweed skirt, flat heels, horn-rimmed glasses—he knew the type. Had met plenty like her in medical school.

‘Dr Anderson? That’s easy.’ The girl smiled, her eyes fixed on his face in a kind of trance. ‘Same as you. Strong and black.’

‘Ah.’ His new partner was obviously a woman of taste. ‘And what does she eat?’

The girl continued to gaze at him and then seemed to shake herself. ‘Eat? Actually, I’ve never seen her eat anything.’ She shrugged. ‘Between the tourists and the locals, we probably keep her too busy to give her time to eat. Or maybe she isn’t that interested in food.’

Gio winced and hoped it was the former. He couldn’t imagine developing a good working partnership with someone who wasn’t interested in food. ‘In that case, I’ll play it safe and take her a large Americano.’ Time enough to persuade her of the benefits of eating. ‘So the next thing you can do is direct me to the surgery. Or maybe Dr Anderson won’t be there yet.’

It wasn’t even eight o’clock.

Perhaps she slept late, or maybe—

‘Follow the street right down to the harbour and it’s straight in front of you. Blue door. And she’ll be there.’ The girl pressed a cap onto the coffee-cup. ‘She was up half the night with the Bennetts’ six-year-old. Asthma attack.’

Gio lifted an eyebrow. ‘You know that?’

The girl shrugged and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. ‘Around here, everyone knows everything.’ She handed him the coffee and his change. ‘Word gets around.’

‘So maybe she’s having a lie-in.’

The girl looked at the clock. ‘I doubt it. Dr Anderson doesn’t sleep much and, anyway, surgery starts soon.’

Gio digested that piece of information with interest. If she worked that hard, no wonder she took her coffee strong and black.

With a parting smile at the girl he left the bakery and followed her instructions, enjoying the brief walk down the steep cobbled street, glancing into shop windows as he passed.

The harbour was bigger than he’d expected, crowded with boats that bobbed and danced under the soft seduction of the sea. Tall masts clinked in the soft breeze and across the harbour he saw a row of shops and a blue door with a brass nameplate. The surgery.

A few minutes later he pushed open the surgery door and blinked in surprise. What had promised to be a small, cramped building proved to be light, airy and spacious. Somehow he’d expected something entirely different—somewhere dark and tired, like some of the surgeries he’d visited in London. What he hadn’t expected was this bright, calming environment designed to soothe and relax.

Above his head glass panels threw light across a neat waiting room and on the far side of the room a children’s corner overflowed with an abundance of toys in bright primary colours. A table in a glaring, cheerful red was laid with pens and sheets of paper to occupy busy hands.

On the walls posters encouraged patients to give up smoking and have their blood pressure checked and there were leaflets on first aid and adverts for various local clinics.

It seemed that nothing had been forgotten.

Gio was just studying a poster in greater depth when he noticed the receptionist.

She was bent over the curved desk, half-hidden from view as she sifted through a pile of results. Her honey blonde hair fell to her shoulders and her skin was creamy smooth and untouched by sun. She was impossibly slim, wore no make-up and the shadows under her eyes suggested that she worked harder than she should. She looked fragile, tired and very young.

Gio’s eyes narrowed in an instinctively masculine assessment.

She was beautiful, he decided, and as English as scones and cream. His eyes rested on her cheekbones and then dropped to her perfectly shaped, soft mouth. He found himself thinking of summer fruit—strawberries, raspberries, redcurrants…

Something flickered to life inside him.

The girl was so absorbed in what she was reading that she hadn’t even noticed him and he was just about to step forward and introduce himself when the surgery door swung open again and a group of teenage boys stumbled in, swearing and laughing.

They didn’t notice him. In fact, they seemed incapable of noticing anyone, they were so drunk.

Gio stood still, sensing trouble. His dark eyes were suddenly watchful and he set the coffee down on the nearest table just in case he was going to need his hands.

One of them swore fluently as he crashed into a low table and sent magazines flying across the floor. ‘Where the hell’s the doctor in this place? Matt’s bleeding.’

The friend in question lurched forward, blood streaming from a cut on his head. His chest was bare and he wore a pair of surf shorts, damp from the sea and bloodstained. ‘Went surfing.’ He gave a hiccup and tried to stand up without support but failed. Instead he slumped against his friend with a groan, his eyes closed. ‘Feel sick.’

‘Surfing when you’re drunk is never the best idea.’ The girl behind the desk straightened and looked them over with weary acceptance. Clearly it wasn’t the first time she’d had drunks in the surgery. ‘Sit him down over there and I’ll take a look at it.’

‘You?’ The third teenager swaggered across the room, fingers tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He gave a suggestive wink. ‘I’m Jack. How about taking a look at me while you’re at it?’ He leaned across the desk, leering. ‘There are bits of me you might be interested in. You a nurse? You ever wear one of those blue outfits with a short skirt and stockings?’

‘I’m the doctor.’ The girl’s eyes were cool as she pulled on a pair of disposable gloves and walked round the desk without giving Jack a second glance. ‘Sit your friend down before he falls down and does himself more damage. I’ll take a quick look at him before I start surgery.’

Gio didn’t know who was more surprised—him or the teenagers.

She was the doctor?

She was Alice Anderson?

He ran a hand over the back of his neck and wondered why David had omitted to mention that his new partner was stunning. He tried to match up David’s description of a serious, academic woman with this slender, delicate beauty standing in front of him, and failed dismally. He realised suddenly that he’d taken ‘single’ to mean ‘mature’. And ‘academic’ to mean ‘dowdy’.

‘You’re the doctor?’ Jack lurched towards her, his gait so unsteady that he could barely stand. ‘Well, that’s good news. I love a woman with brains and looks. You and I could make a perfect team, babe.’

She didn’t spare him a glance, refusing to respond to the banter. ‘Sit your friend down.’ Her tone was firm and the injured boy collapsed onto the nearest chair with a groan.

‘I’ll sit myself down. Oh, man, my head is killing me.’

‘That’s what happens when you drink all night and then bang your head.’ Efficient and businesslike, she pushed up the sleeves of her plain blue top, tilted his head and took a look at the cut. She parted the boy’s hair gently and probed with her fingers. Her mouth tightened. ‘Well, you’ve done a good job of that. Were you knocked out?’

Gio cast a professional eye over the cut and saw immediately that it wasn’t going to be straightforward. Surely she wasn’t planning to stitch that herself? He could see ragged edges and knew it was going to be difficult to get a good cosmetic result, even for someone skilled in that area.

‘I wasn’t knocked out.’ The teenager tried to shake his head and instantly winced at the pain. ‘I swallowed half the ocean, though. Got any aspirin?’

‘In a minute. That’s a nasty cut you’ve got there and it’s near your eye and down your cheek. It’s beyond my skills, I’m afraid.’ She ripped off the gloves and took a few steps backwards, a slight frown on her face as she considered the options. ‘You need to go to the accident and emergency department up the coast. They’ll get a surgeon to stitch you up. I’ll call them and let them know that you’re coming.’

‘No way. We haven’t got time for that.’ The third teenager, who hadn’t spoken up until now, stepped up to her, his expression threatening. ‘You’re going to do it. And you’re going to do it here. Right now.’

She dropped the gloves into a bin and washed her hands. ‘I’ll put a dressing on it for you, but you need to go to the hospital to get it stitched. They’ll do a better job than I ever could. Stitching faces is an art.’

She turned to walk back across the reception area but the teenager called Jack blocked her path.

‘I’ve got news for you, babe.’ His tone was low and insulting. ‘We’re not going anywhere until you’ve fixed Matt’s face. I’m not wasting a whole day of my holiday sitting in some hospital with a load of sickos. He doesn’t mind a scar. Scars are sexy. Hard. You know?’

‘Whoever does it, he’ll be left with a scar,’ she said calmly, ‘but he’ll get a better result at the hospital.’

‘No hospital.’ The boy took a step closer and stabbed a finger into her chest. ‘Are you listening to me?’

‘I’m listening to you but I don’t think you’re listening to me.’ The girl didn’t flinch. ‘Unless he wants to have a significant scar, that cut needs to be stitched by someone with specific skills. It’s for his own good.’

It happened so quickly that no one could have anticipated it. The teenager backed her against the wall and put a hand round her throat. ‘I don’t think you’re listening to me, babe. It’s your bloody job, Doc. Stitch him up! Do it.’

Gio crossed the room in two strides, just as the teenager uttered a howl of pain and collapsed onto the floor in a foetal position, clutching his groin.

She’d kneed him.

‘Don’t try and tell me my job.’ She lifted her hand to her reddened throat. Her tone was chilly and composed and then she glanced up, noticed Gio for the first time and her face visibly paled. For a moment she just stared at him and then her gaze flickered towards the door, measuring the distance. Gio winced inwardly. It was obvious that she thought he was trouble and he felt slightly miffed by her reaction.

He liked women. Women liked him. And they usually responded to him. They chatted, they flirted, they sent him long looks. The look in Dr Anderson’s eyes suggested that she was calculating ways to injure him. All right, so he hadn’t had time to shave and change, but did he really look that scary?

He was about to introduce himself, about to try and redeem himself in her eyes, when the third teenager stepped towards the girl, his expression threatening. Gio closed a hand over his arm and yanked him backwards.

‘I think it’s time you left. Both of you.’ His tone was icy cool and he held the boy in an iron grip. ‘You can pick up your friend in an hour.’

The teenager balled his fists, prepared to fight, but then eyed the width of Gio’s shoulders. His hands relaxed and he gave a slight frown. ‘Whazzit to do with you?’

‘Everything.’ Gio stepped forward so that his body was between them and Dr Anderson. ‘I work here.’

‘What as?’ The boy twisted in his grip and his eyes slid from Gio’s shoulders to the hard line of his jaw. ‘A bouncer?’

‘A doctor. One hour. That’s how long I estimate it’s going to take to make a decent job of his face. Or you can drive to the hospital.’ Gio released him, aware that Alice was staring at him in disbelief. ‘Your choice.’

The teenager winced and rubbed his arm. ‘She…’ he jerked his head towards the doctor ‘…said he needed a specialist doctor.’

‘Well, this is your lucky day, because I am a specialist doctor.’

There was a long pause while the teenager tried to focus. ‘You don’t look anything like a doctor. Doctors shave and dress smart. You look more like one of those—those…’ His words slurred and he swayed and waved a hand vaguely. ‘Those Mafia thugs that you see in films.’

‘Then you’d better behave yourself,’ Gio suggested silkily, casting a glance towards his new partner to check she was all right. Her pallor was worrying him. He hoped she wasn’t about to pass out. ‘Leave now and come back in an hour for your friend.’

‘You’re not English.’ The boy hiccoughed. ‘What are you, then? Italian?’

‘I’m Sicilian.’ Gio’s eyes were cold. ‘Never call me Italian.’

‘Sicilian?’ A nervous respect entered the teenager’s eyes and he licked his lips and eyed the door. ‘OK.’ He gave a casual shrug. ‘So maybe we’ll come back later, like you suggested.’

Gio nodded. ‘Good decision.’

The boy backed away, still rubbing his arm. ‘We’re going. C’mon, Rick.’ He loped over to the door and left without a backward glance.

‘Dios, did he hurt you?’ Gio walked over to the girl and lifted a hand to her neck. The skin was slightly reddened and he stroked a finger carefully over the bruising with a frown. ‘We should call the police now.’

She shook her head and backed away. ‘No need. He didn’t hurt me.’ She glanced towards the teenager who was still sprawled over the seats of her waiting room and gave a wry shake of her head. ‘If you’re Dr Moretti, we’d better see to him before he’s sick on the floor or bleeds to death over my chairs.’

‘It won’t hurt him to wait for two minutes. You should call the police.’ Gio’s tone was firm. He didn’t want to be too graphic about what might have happened, but it was important that she acknowledge the danger. It hadn’t escaped him that if he hadn’t decided to arrive at the surgery early, she would have been on her own with them. ‘You should call them.’

She rubbed her neck. ‘I suppose you’re right. All right, I’ll do it when I get a minute.’

‘Does this happen often? I imagined I was coming to a quiet seaside village. Not some hotbed of violence.’

‘There’s nothing quiet about this place, at least not in the middle of summer,’ she said wearily. ‘We’re the only doctors’ surgery in this part of the town and the nearest A and E is twenty miles down the coast so, yes, we get our fair share of drama. David probably didn’t tell you that when he was persuading you to take the job. You can leave now, if you like.’

His eyes rested on her soft mouth. ‘I’m not leaving.’

There was a brief silence. A silence during which she stared back at him. Then she licked her lips. ‘Well, that’s good news for my patients. And good news for me. I’m glad you arrived when you did.’

‘You didn’t look glad.’

‘Well, a girl can’t be too careful and you don’t exactly look like a doctor.’ A hint of a smile touched that perfect mouth. ‘Did you see his face when you said you were Sicilian? I think they were expecting you to put a hand in your jacket and shoot them dead any moment.’

‘I considered it.’ Gio’s eyes gleamed with humour. ‘But I’ve only had one cup of coffee so far today. Generally I need at least two before I shoot people dead. And you don’t need to apologise for the mistake. I confess that I thought you were the receptionist. If you’re Alice Anderson, you’re nothing like David’s description.’

‘I can imagine.’ She spoke in a tone of weary acceptance. ‘David is seeing the world through a romantic haze at the moment. Be patient with him. It will pass, given time.’

He laughed. ‘You think so?’

‘Love always does, Dr Moretti. Like many viruses, it’s a self-limiting condition. Left alone, the body can cure itself.’

Gio searched her face to see if she was joking and decided that she wasn’t. Filing the information away in his brain for later use, he walked over to retrieve the coffee from the window-sill. ‘If you’re truly Dr Anderson, this is for you. An ice breaker, from me.’

She stared at the coffee with sudden hunger in her eyes and then at him. ‘You brought coffee?’ Judging from the expression on her face, he might have offered her an expensive bauble from Tiffany’s. She lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. Tired eyes. ‘For me? Is it black?’

‘Si.’ He smiled easily and handed her the coffee, amused by her response. ‘You have fans in the bakery who know every detail of your dietary preferences. I was told “just coffee” so I passed on the croissant.’

‘There’s no such thing as “just coffee”. Coffee is wonderful. It’s my only vice and currently I’m in desperate need of a caffeine hit.’ She prised the lid off the coffee, sniffed and gave a whimper of pleasure. ‘Large Americano. Oh, that’s just the best smell…’

He watched as she sipped, closed her eyes and savoured the taste. She gave a tiny moan of appreciation that sent a flicker of awareness through his body. He gave a slight frown at the strength of his reaction.

‘So…’ She studied him for a moment and then took another sip of coffee. Some of the colour returned to her cheeks. ‘I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow. Not that I’m complaining, you understand. I’m glad you’re early. You were just in time to save me from a nasty situation.’

‘I prefer to drive when the roads are clear. I thought you might appreciate the help, given that David has already been gone two days. We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Gio Moretti.’ He wanted to hold her until she stopped shaking but he sensed that she wouldn’t appreciate the gesture so he kept his distance. ‘I’m your new partner.’

She hesitated and then put her free hand in his. ‘Alice Anderson.’

‘I gathered that. You’re really not what I expected.’

She tilted her head to one side. ‘You’re standing in my surgery having frightened off two teenage thugs by your appearance and you’re telling me I’m not what you expected?’ There was a hint of humour in her blue eyes and his attention was caught by the length of her lashes.

‘So maybe I don’t fit anyone’s image of a conventional doctor right at this moment…’ he dragged his gaze away from her face and glanced down at himself with a rueful smile ‘…but I’ve been travelling all night and I’m dressed for comfort. After a shave and a quick change of clothes, I will be ready to impress your patients. But first show me to a room and I’ll stitch that boy before his friends return.’

‘Are you sure?’ She frowned slightly. ‘I mean, David told me you didn’t operate any more and—’

‘I don’t operate.’ He waited for the usual feelings to rise up inside him. Waited for the frustration and the sick disappointment. Nothing happened. Maybe he was just tired. Or maybe he’d made progress. ‘I don’t operate, but I can certainly stitch up a face.’

‘Then I’m very grateful and I’m certainly not going to argue with you. That wound is beyond my skills and I’ve got a full surgery starting in ten minutes.’ She looked at the teenager who was sprawled across the chairs, eyes closed, and sighed. ‘Oh, joy. Is it alcohol or a bang on the head, do you think?’

‘Hard to tell.’ Gio followed her gaze and shook his head slowly. ‘I’ll stitch him up, do a neurological assessment and then we’ll see. Is there anyone who can help me? Show me around? I can give you a list of what I’ll need.’

‘Rita, our practice nurse, will be here in a minute. She’s very experienced. Her asthma clinic doesn’t start until ten so I’ll send her in.’ Her eyes slid over him. ‘Are you sure you’re all right with this? We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow and if you’ve been travelling all night you must be tired.’

‘I’m fine.’ He studied her carefully, noting the dark shadows under her eyes. ‘In fact, I’d say that you’re the one who’s tired, Dr Anderson.’

She gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Goes with the job. I’ll show you where you can work. We have a separate room for minor surgery. I think you’ll find everything you need but I can’t be sure. We don’t usually stitch faces.’

He followed her down the corridor, his eyes drawn to the gentle swing of her hips. ‘Do you have 5/0 Ethilon?’

‘Yes.’ She pushed open a door and held it open while he walked inside. ‘Is that all you need?’

‘The really important thing is to debride the wound and align the tissues exactly. And not leave the stitches in for too long.’

Her glance was interested. Intelligent. ‘I wish I had time to watch you. Not that I’m about to start suturing faces,’ she assured him hastily, and he smiled.

‘Like most things, it’s just a question of practice.’

She opened a cupboard. ‘Stitches are in here. Gloves on the shelf. You’re probably about the same size as David. Tetanus et cetera in the fridge.’ She waved a hand. ‘I’ll send Rita in with the patient. I’ll get on with surgery. Come and find me when you’ve finished.’

‘Alice.’ He stopped her before she walked out of the door. ‘Don’t forget to call the police.’

She tilted her head back and he sensed that she was wrestling with what seemed like a major inconvenience then she gave a resigned sigh.

‘I’ll do that.’