Heart Surgeon in Portugal (18 page)

‘Is Viv very ill?’ she asked quietly, knowing full well that the answer would be yes.

‘She has a condition affecting the heart valves. I think you suspected this, didn’t you.’ Ellie nodded. ‘So tell me - what does that suggest to you? You must have worked on cardiac wards.’

‘I figured it must be a legacy from that childhood rheumatic fever.’

‘Dead right.’

He was looking at her as if counting every freckle, lowering his eyes to focus on her parted lips. Oh why didn’t he kiss her …

‘Go on.’

A strange languor was stealing through her limbs, but somehow she managed a faultless textbook definition of mitral stenosis.

‘Good girl!’ he encouraged unromantically. ‘And the breathlessness is caused by a build-up of fluid in the lungs when in the prone position.’

Not in my case!
thought Ellie, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way her clinging teeshirt was rising and falling with her rapid breathing. ‘The reddened cheeks,’ Rafe was murmuring, ‘the motor flush. The irregular pulse.’

He was staring at her so intensely Ellie felt her own heart pounding. He might be describing the way she herself was feeling right now! And his face was so near, so close, an extraordinary tenderness in those x-ray eyes…

‘You any good at interpreting electro-cardiograms?’ he asked abruptly, fighting the urge to reach for that kissable mouth. Couldn't he just picture it!—shock, horror, utter disbelief that the man she thought of as her employer could be harbouring such ideas about her. If only he could put back time, make himself young and full of hope again, before the lessons of life had injected their measure of cynicism.

‘The nurse who usually does my ECGs is on leave and as you know, the quality of read-out is operator-dependent. Xuanita can do it for me but she calibrates them manually and there's so much interference I hardly care to rely on them for a diagnosis.’ Ellie pulled herself together and made a show of bright, intelligent interest. Her act was better than she knew. Rafe took it as evidence of relief at dealing with him in his safe professional role once more.

‘I’m reasonably confident. But wouldn’t you prefer to do your own to be sure of absolute accuracy?’

‘Hell, no - I've probably forgotten how. Ellie, I trust you. You understand what I‘m looking for—direct information about electrical currents within the heart muscle, specifics, rate and rhythm, conduction of impulses. I can then estimate whether there's any abnormality in the valves or in the size of the ventricles.’

She nodded. ‘Determine the degree of ventricular hypertrophy and decide whether there's valvular stenosis or incompetence—simply by studying the ECG.’

‘You’ve got it,’ he said approvingly. ‘Far better than subjecting Vivienne to the ministrations of total strangers when she's so apprehensive ...’ Rafe flapped a lazy hand to discourage a trio of persistent gnats hovering inches above his nose. ‘Come on. Time we were getting back.’

He set off at a brisk pace with Ellie taking big strides so she could step into his size ten footprints. She was glowing with pride. Rafe Harland trusting her with this responsibility. Requesting her help with case histories and ECGs. Of course she could do ECGs. The procedure itself wasn’t difficult. There were twelve different variations of squiggle, and these must be interpreted as accurately as possible. As for the case histories—this required human qualities of empathy, drawing from the patient the smallest detail, however apparently trivial, encouraging trust and confidence.

When he got back to the car he gave her a friendly hug and said, ‘You can be very surprising, you know, Miss Robey.’ It came out of the blue and Ellie just couldn't stop herself, couldn't hold back her instant response. ‘There's a lot about me that would surprise
you, Mr Harland.’ She put her arms around him and returned the hug with a fervency that was unmistakeable.

Rafe was flummoxed by the sudden possibilities opening up – and the complications that would follow if he let her words and her actions go to his head. He disentangled himself and held her away from him, at arm’s length.

‘Ellie,’ he said very seriously, ‘remember this is a temporary situation. There's another life to consider back home.’

Now she wouldn’t look at him, turning her head away. ‘Ellie, please,’ he said again. He gripped her chin and forced her to meet his stern black eyes. But she wrenched her head away and eyes brimming with hot tears, slipped into the passenger seat while Rafe held open the car door. She knew just what he was trying to say to her. That the only hearts
he
was interested in came shrouded in sterile towels and presenting fascinating and curable problems for him to solve, with his knife and his clever brain.

That he needed her help but he didn't want her love. He was warning her that it was just foolish infatuation and he wasn't the sort of man to take advantage of a silly girl offering her heart on a plate. Her awful secret was discovered.

I
n the car, their eyes hidden by dark glasses, the two were silent for a while. Ellie hadn’t a clue what Rafe might be thinking – if he was thinking about her at all as he negotiated the lunch-hour rush of traffic through the sea-side town.

As the first shock-horror of what she’d just done subsided it was replaced by exhilaration. Rafe now knew how she felt about him. It wasn’t her secret any longer. She wasn’t going to have to pretend. Then an awful thought struck! What if he decided to dispatch her
tout de suite
to that other life back home? Yes, that’s just what he probably would do!

‘What’s for lunch?’ Rafe suddenly asked, as if nothing untoward had happened.

Ellie cleared her throat and tried to sound relaxed and casual. ‘I made some gazpacho soup yesterday – and there’s gammon and eggs if you’d like it.’

‘A veritable feast! Gazpacho – your culinary skills are really coming on.’

Mrs Robey had passed on the recipe when she made her weekly phone call. She always came up with something new and easy-ish for her daughter to try. ‘Oh gazpacho’s not all that difficult,’ said Ellie modestly.

‘Your cooking’s getting rather exciting, I must say.’

‘Oh? - is that one way of telling me my company’s boring?’ It was a reckless question but Ellie was in a reckless mood.

Rafe’s head swung toward her for a second, then his masked eyes were back on the road. He said nothing. It was as if she hadn’t spoken.

That silence persisted till they got back and were eating together on the verandah. Now things seemed just as usual, Rafe in relaxed mood, complimenting her on the iced soup, commenting that this was perfect food for the heat of the day and quite sufficient as far as he was concerned; she should save the gammon for supper.

Then out of the blue it came – the bombshell and Ellie’s devastation.

‘My friend Charlotte Bowman, the television historian, will be back in London in a day or so. It’s been a very demanding time for her, making this BBC2 documentary in intense heat. It would be nice for her to come and stay for my last couple of weeks out here. Get a decent break before the start of the academic year. You won’t mind looking after her, will you? Because of course I shall be at the Centre during the day.’

Ellie sat there stunned. Their last two weeks of paradise destroyed with a few casual words. Rafe had just put her firmly back in her place, reminded her of her real function at the Casa de la Paz.

‘Not that Charlotte needs much looking after – she’s very self-sufficient. Spot of lunch, that sort of thing – she’s vegetarian, by the way.’ Ellie almost groaned aloud. ‘And she never eats breakfast,’ Rafe added cheerfully. ‘Gallons of strong black coffee, though, and of course the coffee beans freshly ground. She’ll tell you what sort to get.’

He was obviously highly familiar with Charlotte’s early morning requirements and Ellie felt like grinding her own teeth as she waited for the next hit. ‘I’ll take her out every night – Charlotte’s not really into barbecues.’

‘I bet she isn’t!’ muttered Ellie sotto voce.

‘Eh?’

‘Nothing. I just –’

‘We haven’t seen each other since … how long’s it been now? It’s not ideal, with me working, but at least it gives us a chance to be together for a short while.’

Ellie’s throat was dry as sand. She picked up her water glass and drank thirstily.

‘The great thing about Charlotte,’ Rafe paused in reflection of the wonders of Charlotte. ‘The great thing is - however long it may have been, we just pick up where we left off. Every time.’

‘Great,’ echoed Ellie flatly. Her chair scraped the terracotta tiles in an angry little snarl. ‘Come on, I’ll do that,’ he said, watching her pile dishes on to a tray. ‘No you won’t,’ she said curtly. ‘It’s my job, it’s what I’m here for.’

With a discreet hand Rafe concealed a broad grin and watched Ellie stalk off with her overloaded burden. The tension in that furious little back, the stiffly held shoulders, told him more than a thousand words. He waited for the crash that was bound to come…

All was silent.

He closeted himself in the study and got on with his research which, among other things, was now working out very satisfactorily.

As soon as she had tidied the kitchen, Ellie went up to her room and moved all her belongings back into her old downstairs bedroom. Charlotte would want the suite next door to Rafe’s. And even if she chose to share his, Ellie wasn’t going to be stuck next door listening to their ecstatic reunion. She thoroughly cleaned the bathroom and left the place spick and span so as not to make extra work for Giovana who was busy downstairs.

Rico rang during the afternoon and said he was flying back from Paris the very next day. Ellie filled him in with what had transpired and he was shocked about the need for surgery but could not have been more sincere in his grateful thanks. He was such a nice man. All credit, of course, to the mother who supervised his upbringing.

Next morning when an early delivery boy rode his motor scooter up the drive of the Casa de la Paz, of course it had to be Rafe who was crossing the hall and who answered the doorbell. He glanced at the dramatic italic script on the gilt-edged card. ‘Ellie - with eternal gratitude. My love – Ricardo.’

Without a word he handed Ellie the gift-wrapped sliver of crystal containing one perfect rosebud, red as blood within the scentless depths of its crimson heart. One red rose – traditional symbol of the captivated heart. Whose heart? Not that scoundrel's for a start. How his fingers itched to tear up that insinuating little message.

With a start of surprise he realised that was exactly what Ellie was doing as she ripped the card to shreds and cast it into the waste bin along with the vegetable peelings. At the hiss of Rafe's audible exasperated sigh she turned to look up at him.

‘Aren’t you happy now?’ he sneered in a voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Shouldn’t you be
over the moon
?’

He swung on his heel and headed for his study.

‘I h-hate you!’ she stuttered in a shrill high voice.

Rafe turned and looked back at her.

‘I hate you!' she cried again, wishing with all her heart that it was true.

‘Yes,’ he observed imperturbably, ‘but you
love
hating me too. Wouldn't you say so?’

He shut himself in his study and played music very loudly and Ellie, needing to put space between the two of them, went off in her car to the market in the little inland town. Sitting at a table in the sunshine in the market square, she lingered over a tall glass of freshly-squeezed orange, regretting the waste of an opportunity she’d just been handed on a plate. The rose didn’t come from the right man. That was the problem. And she’d acted foolishly in letting her first reaction run away with her for hadn’t that been the perfect chance to salvage her pride? To act as if she and the gorgeous Ricardo were an item and make Rafe believe she couldn’t care a damn if he filled the Casa with a harem of women.

Truth to tell, Rico wouldn’t have meant his charming gesture to be taken as a declaration of anything other than his eternal gratitude to Ellie for all she was doing to help his darling mama. That was no declaration of undying love, whatever it had looked like at first glance.

Well, she’d definitely blown it. And been unforgiveably nasty to Rafe into the bargain. How could she ever make it up to him? By being especially nice and helpful to Charlotte, she supposed gloomily.

A couple of hours were whiled away, wandering round the stalls and choosing fresh fruit and vegetables. Back at the Casa she rooted around in her old bedroom for her red string bikini among the heap of her clothes thrown hastily into drawers. Rafe was still in his study playing music. The Berlioz Symphonie Fantastique, something her father was very fond of. This made Ellie feel homesick and miserable so to change her mood she plunged into the pool and began doing lengths, up and down and up and down, concentrating on nothing but pushing herself endlessly through the cool water.

Giovana was hosing the plants in the garden, a scarf tied over her straw hat, quite unaware of the tensions in the house.

Ellie was floating dreamily on her back when out of the blue depths beneath her the shark-like figure struck. She was hoisted bodily clear of the surface and into the air, with a great whoosh of turbulence and her own voice screaming out in alarm. Giovana, hearing a shriek, looked over towards the pool and saw the two figures thrashing about in the water. She smiled and carried on hosing. Dr Rafe and Senhorita Ellie enjoying themselves - ah! but that was good. She laughed aloud, sharing their fun as Ellie, held aloft on Rafe’s brawny arms, was dropped into the water with a splash that soaked a cane lounger near the edge of the pool.

Fear and fury chased one another as Ellie surfaced. There she'd been, peacefully minding her own business! It was enough to give anyone a heart attack! Rafe of all people shouldn't take such risks. Ellie opened her mouth to give her tormentor a piece of her mind ... but where was he? A dark shape circled her, reaching for her legs. She tried to dodge - too late! - and their bodies were thrashing and struggling in the churning waters, Rafe capturing her by the waist and hooking a powerful thigh between her legs as they sank together to the bottom of the deep end.