Midwives On Call: Stealing The Surgeon's Heart. Marion Lennox

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, removing 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