Heart Surgeon in Portugal (11 page)

‘Have you seen Ellie?’ he asked Giovana who was doing the evening watering. ‘El-lie,’ repeated Rafe, indicating with his hand somewhere just above waist-level as if Ellie was knee-high to a grasshopper. ‘
Onde
Ellie?’

‘El-lie,’ chuckled Giovana, whipping the snaking hosepipe around his ankles as she moved on to water the next lemon tree. Rafe leapt smartly out of her way. ‘Si si!’ Giovana pointed in the direction of the distant pasture where her goats grazed. ‘Pretty Ellie.
Bonita
!’

‘Yes yes,’ muttered Rafe grimly, ‘I don’t need reminding, thank you very much.’ Giovana screwed up her face to indicate incomprehension. ‘
Qual?
’

‘Oh nothing,’ said Rafe, at which she flapped a hand as if to say go find Ellie and let me get on with my work.

No, he definitely didn’t want Ellie getting entangled with the likes of Ricardo. Not that Ellie was a naïve little innocent. No indeed. Not from what he knew about Ellie Robey … Quite the little actress when she wanted to be! Carrying his glass of chilled lemonade, Rafe climbed the outside staircase leading to the bedroom balconies. From a height, he examined the horizon. No sign of Ellie. He drained the glass to the last drop and left it on the balustrade, his right hand exploring his newly-cropped head as he stared out over the garden. The sky above was streaked with peach and apricot and lavender. It was a lovely evening, warm and soft and peaceful.

Where the hell was Ellie? Why had she wandered off like this when she must have known he’d be back soon. He hoped she wasn’t daydreaming about that son of Vivienne Carr’s. Perish the thought!

‘I need a proper drink,’ he exclaimed, but just as he turned to go there she was in the far distance making her way slowly towards the Casa. No hat, of course, silly girl. Rafe watched as she drew closer and his face darkened with concern. Even from this distance he could tell she looked ready to collapse …

Rafe raced down the garden and vaulted the stone wall, just in time to see Ellie’s knees fold under her …

Waiting for Rafe … to make the time pass more quickly, Ellie had gone for a ten-minute stroll. But there was so much on her mind that she’d wandered further than she meant to. For some peculiar reason, putting one foot in front of the other was becoming a curious effort. Her head started to pound and her mouth was parched and dry with a tickle that felt ominously like the beginnings of a sore throat. She felt like lying down right here among the wild vines and the goats and the seedpods of the little blue lupins. Just a ten-minute nap and she'd be her old self again - damn this wretched glandular fever, why wouldn’t it leave her alone and let her get back into hospital, where she belonged. Her knees melted under her and an unconscious Ellie dropped softly down onto the sunbaked earth among the little droppings of goat shit and dry husks of lupin pods.

Suddenly - there was Rafe beside her, his Mr Big shadow blocking out the sun, his cool fingers firm on her pulse. Ellie’s first thought was one of huge relief
. Rafe … the one person she needed … the one she most wanted to … wanted to …
He was kneeling beside her, his hands feeling for her pulse, his head now pressing against her chest, listening for her heartbeat. She wanted to put her arms around his head and hold him there against her, but for some reason there was no strength in them and they refused to obey, lying limply as they had fallen when she hit the ground.

And anyway, there was something wrong … maybe it wasn’t Rafe after all … He was shaking her, not roughly, but trying to get her to sit up, to stand, to get back on to her feet. ‘Come on, Ellie,’ he was saying and his voice sounded strange, kind of shocked; but yes, that was definitely his voice. He pulled her arm round his neck and hoisted her to her feet, the solid warmth of him cradling her exhausted body.

‘I can walk,’ she murmured groggily as her feet left the ground. ‘No, you can’t.’ She was lifted over the stone wall and stood swaying there till he joined her on the other side. Ellie felt herself swept off her feet once more and the next thing she remembered was coming to on a wicker chaise-longue in the verandah’s shade.

Giovana came running, uttering exclamations of dismay. ‘She’ll be fine,’ said Rafe. ‘No hat!’ he said to Giovana, pantomiming putting on a hat and then shrugging his shoulders to demonstrate the stupidity of not wearing one.

Giovana brought a glass of water and Ellie downed it greedily. ‘Th-thank you,’ she stuttered dopily, looking gratefully up at the two of them bending over her. The chilled water cleared her blurred vision and her rescuer came into focus.

‘Your hair!’ she gasped, dismay written all over her upturned face.

‘A buzz-cut, Rafe, how could you!’

‘Much cooler.’ Rafe grinned and looked mighty pleased with himself.

Giovana laughed and nodded as if she understood every word. She touched her own head which was as ever covered with a triangle of red printed cotton tied at the nape of her neck.

‘Stay right where you are, I’m going to see to the supper.’

‘Oh but I –’ she struggled to sit up only to feel hands on her shoulders pushing her down again.

‘Doctor’s orders. Stay there or I shall put you to bed.’

Giovana went back to the watering and Rafe headed off to the kitchen, leaving Ellie fuming weakly.
Put me to bed indeed …

When all was ready, she refused instructions to stay where she was and took her usual place at the verandah table, looking pale and vulnerable, but determined. If there was going to be an inquisition about her supposed meeting with Ricardo, she would be ready for it.

It came sooner than anticipated.

‘Stick with water tonight,’ he ordered, putting a jug of iced water at her elbow and filling his own glass with a fine red wine. ‘You’ve probably had quite enough already today.’

‘Not really,’ came the tired response. ‘Just a light vinho verde. A couple of glasses to help me relax.’

‘Help you relax? Why should you need any help,
relaxing
in a five-star hotel.’

‘Well,’ sighed Ellie, ‘you know …’

‘No I don’t know. What am I supposed to
know
.’

‘No, you’re right. Sorry, of course you couldn’t...’

For crying out loud!
Rafe stared at her averted profile, the downcast eyes … the long pale lashes, the pouting pink lips. That blasted son of Victoria Carr or whatever her name was … had he got her drunk? Was this the cause of Ellie’s unexpected relapse?

‘So,’ he said tightly, ‘the three of you had a nice gourmet lunch in the Belmare. Do tell me more.’

‘The Belmira,’ corrected Ellie. ‘Just me and Rico.’ Giovana’s little cat appeared from a lavender bush and made the usual beeline for Rafe who for once gave her the brush-off. ‘Vivienne was quite tired. She decided to have a salad brought to her bungalow and then she took her usual siesta.’

‘All over you was he, like a rash.’ Rafe had been going to say ‘nasty rash’, but thought better of it.

‘I don’t know why you say that!’ protested Ellie, affecting a deeply pained expression. ‘Rico is very charming. He has exquisite manners. In fact he’s one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen.’

‘Oh spare me,’ muttered Rafe into his wine glass. ‘Have another sardine.’

‘No thank you,’ said Ellie quietly. ‘I really couldn’t. But thank you for getting the supper tonight.’

‘Maybe some pork tomorrow? For a change?’ he hinted.

‘Yes, of course.’

They sat in silence for the several minutes, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Rafe hoped the Rico thing was a one-off, that Ellie wouldn’t see any more of the man. Tonight he must skype Charlotte. He felt guilty about not missing her more. Sometimes the television team filmed at night - he knew that – and as a historian she preferred to deal with her own scripts which could need a bit of a rewrite and she liked to do as much as possible without an autocue. She was busy. And so was he …

As for Ellie. Rafe was troubled about Ellie. She was very subdued and her face beneath its light tan was pale and tired. It might be due to over-indulgence at lunchtime. It might just be heat exhaustion, of course it might. But in view of her medical history, he would get her to the Centre and run a few tests.

‘You’d better come with me tomorrow,’ he said at last, startling Ellie out of her reverie. ‘I want to give you a thorough MOT, find out what’s going on.’

Ellie looked quite shocked. ‘Nothing’s going on,’ she protested vainly. ‘I’m right as rain now. Well, just a headache … and a bit of a sore throat,’ she admitted reluctantly.

‘While you’re under this roof you’re my responsibility,’ came the stern response, ‘and I’m taking no chances.’

Feeling a proper nuisance, Ellie bit her lip. Rafe’s dark eyes searched her unhappy face. ‘Nothing to worry about,’ he smiled at her reassuringly, ‘I’ll take the bloods myself.’

Ellie buried her nose in her water glass, aware that for some reason her reaction to these glad tidings was being very closely monitored.
Surgeons didn’t do bloods. He wouldn’t have done bloods for donkey’s years. Probably be stabbing away for hours. Her veins would shrivel up in fright.

It was said that nurses made nervously reluctant patients. They knew rather too much for peace of mind. 'Thanks,' she said in a small voice - and was shocked to hear him laugh aloud.

'Panic not, Staff Nurse Robey! You’ll have no complaints, I promise you. We'll take a throat swab too while we're at it.'

While his 'patient' sat there stunned and speechless, Rafe poured the last glass of
vinho ver
de and raised it to Ellie, laughing again, a rich good-humoured sound that rang in her head and turned the tips of her ears pink.

‘You get post addressed to E. Robey RGN. You leave books around with titles like ‘Guides for the newly-qualified staff nurse’. Don’t need to be a member of the CID, do I.’

Ellie’s flushed cheeks turned a rich shade of beetroot. ‘You wanted a cook, not a private nurse,’ she said defensively. ‘It wasn’t relevant to the job description. I’d no thought of deceiving you. My mother said that …’ She hesitated.

‘Go on,’ he said encouragingly.

‘My mother said that as I’d been really quite ill, a proper convalescence would be vital if I’m to start my post-grad course in September.’

‘Reading between the lines: your mother didn’t want me dragging her convalescent daughter off to help out at the Centre.’

If my face goes any hotter I’ll combust! she thought miserably.

‘Let me put you out of your misery, Ellie dear. I should tell you that your brother gave me a call a couple of days after I came out. He was worried about you, wanted to know how you were getting on, spilled all the beans. I promised not to give the game away - until I knew you better.’

Dear old Jon!
Relief stormed through Ellie and the sparkle came back into her eyes. All her old energy came flooding back on a surge of adrenalin. ‘And do you think you know me better?’ she asked, giving Rafe a sidelong flirtatious glance.

‘I think we know each other a great deal better – wouldn’t you agree?’

The irony in those narrowed dark eyes was challenging. Ellie took a deep breath and said recklessly, ‘So, what have you learned about me?’

'You speak fluent French - you can fill me in on that during the drive tomorrow - and I know,’ he said teasingly, ‘that given the least bit of encouragement you’d be coming with me every day to the Centre. Oh I’ve seen that look in your eyes when I leave in the mornings. You’re curious about the place. You want to be in on the action.’

Ellie’s voice was eager. ‘I could make myself useful! I could -’

‘Whoa, not so fast,’ interrupted Rafe. ‘Let's get these tests done and see what's the score. Come on now. Take this big glass of water up to bed with you. Be gone. Bed.’

But there was still all the clearing up to do in the kitchen. Ellie halted in the doorway and turned round to protest.

‘I shall come up later and check on you.’ He loomed over her, one hand resting on the lintel, noting that her pupils were huge and dark. She must have had quite a day. High time she was in bed. He laid both hands on her delicately-boned shoulders, turned her round and gave her a gentle push in the direction of the stairs. ‘You can tell me all about it tomorrow, on the way to Monchique. Good night, Ellie, sleep well.’

‘Tell Rafe about what, exactly?’ Ellie muttered to herself, yawning as she padded barefoot across the hallway and climbed the stairs. And
“I’ll check up on you later”
…! After a remark like that, she knew she wouldn't get a wink of sleep.

So it was doubly astonishing to find her next conscious realisation was Rafe’s voice telling her it was nine in the morning as he stood by her bed with a mug of steaming coffee, his shorn head damp from the pool, that burnished and formidable body clad in nothing more than a brief pair of Speedos that left little to the imagination of someone who had been dreaming about him all through the night. Within a few days of arriving in Portugal he had tanned effortlessly while Ellie was still slathering thick layers of cream onto shrimp-pink skin and cursing the mass of freckles increasing daily.

Now before she could say a word, a thermometer was thrust between her parted lips, the curtains were drawn and the daylight streamed in. ‘After we’ve checked you over, we’ll give you a tour of the Centre. But I’m telling you now, don’t get your hopes up because I won’t be offering you work there even if you go down on your bended knees and say you’ll do it for love.’

The thermometer clattered incomprehensibly against Ellie's teeth. 'I'd … whaggageggaguch!’

Rafe gave the line of mercury a cursory glance. ‘Temperature's normal so it could just have been an overdose of sun.’

‘There you see, I’m fine –’

‘But we'll get those tests done to be on the safe side.’

Ellie cringed. ‘Please don't go to all that trouble—you’re much too busy. Honestly, I’m feeling better this morning. Truly I am!’

He looked down into the appealing face with its tumbling halo of sun-streaked hair, at the perfect golden skin barely covered by the white cotton sheets. If he didn't make tracks, the consequences of this encounter might lead to neither of them getting to the Centre today ...