Heart Surgeon in Portugal (6 page)

‘I’m Eleanor Robey,’ Ellie said eagerly, ‘Ellie for short. Isn’t this place incredible? I have to buy sardines and I’m so bemused I just don’t know where to start.’

‘Then I shall take you to Bernardo’s stall. He’s right over there so follow me. I always get my fish from Bernardo. Delightful chap – the freshest fish you could ask for, and so reasonably priced.’

Vivienne headed purposefully through the mêlée with Ellie close behind. ‘Isn’t this splendid, darling. I come down here twice a week.’

‘Really?’ said Ellie, trying not to lose her new friend in the throng.

‘Here we are, this is Bernardo. Ola Bernardo! Bom dia …’

Fifteen minutes later the two of them were sitting beneath the striped awning of a café on the sea front, their fishy purchases safely stowed in a freezer box in the boot of Ellie’s blue Seat. Over coffee she was giving Vivienne a potted explanation of her work at the Casa, and it was only on the way home she suddenly realised that even though her companion claimed not to know Mr Big it might not have been wise to mention the nursing degree … at any rate, the story of the flight and Ellie’s arrival at the Casa had given them both a good deal of amusement, and the two had arranged to meet again later in the week at the fish market.

‘You’ll never guess,’ said Ellie that evening. She had been saving this exciting titbit for after supper: a safe topic of conversation and one that shouldn’t draw her into any pitfalls with her sharp-witted employer. RH was well-fed and in mellow mood. Vivienne had charmed Bernardo into preparing the sardines for Ellie so all she needed to do was light the barbecue well in advance and prepare the vegetables.

Good as his word, Rafe took over the cooking, wrapping each sardine in a fig leaf and adding them to the barbecue with oil-coated courgettes and peppers. With lemon juice and more olive oil, mopped up with another of Giovana’s loaves – this one with added potato and cheese - you couldn’t ask for a tastier meal. And Ellie would go to the fish market as often as Mr Big wished if it put him in such a pleasant mood …

‘You’ll never guess,’ she said again.

‘What?’ said RH, picking out of the leftovers some fishy scraps and feeding them to Giovana’s skinny grey cat who was rubbing round his legs and mewing for attention. The little creature sat down beside Rafe’s wicker chair, his hand dangling over the side as he stroked the small purring head.

Ellie flicked her fingers but Miss Puss refused to be tempted away from her hero. It was Mr Big she wanted, the heart-breaking Mr Big. The two of them seemed to be having a love affair.

‘I don’t play guessing games,’ he said brusquely. ‘What are you trying to tell me?’

‘Nothing. I’ll get the fruit salad.’

‘Oh, sit still and get on with it.’ He rubbed his forehead and looked bored.

‘No Mr Harland.’ Ellie knew she sounded like a small child saying ‘Shan't!’

He gave a loud sigh. ‘Rafe,’ he said. ‘You can call me Rafe.’

Ellie toyed with the idea of saying snootily that it would not be appropriate, but actually she rather liked the idea.
Rafe. Ellie and Rafe.
Let me introduce you to Rafe, she could say to Vivienne, her new best friend. Anyway, in the modern hospital world nurses and doctors routinely used each other’s first names. But Mr Big wasn’t to know she knew that. And she was here as cook, not as an RGN. Sort of Upstairs and Downstairs.

‘I met someone this morning. Down at the fish market.’

Rafe swivelled in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. He was thinking she had met a guy - maybe a young Portuguese, and was trying to tell him she wanted to go clubbing later. A pretty fair-headed girl was bound to attract attention ‘Look Ellie - if you want to go out tonight, nothing’s stopping you.’ The look of astonishment which spread across her soft features was almost comical. ‘Are you not trying to say you want to go out with some dude you met this morning?’

‘No Mr Harland, I am not!’

‘Rafe.’

Ellie gulped. ‘We really ought to eat that fruit salad before the heat spoils it.’

‘Fetch the damn salad.’ Ellie slipped away, leaving Rafe Harland looking thoughtful. So the girl hadn’t found herself a boyfriend.
He fed a few more bits of sardine to the little cat, batting away a wasp that was buzzing round its quivering whiskers. Ellie Robey’s cooking was never going to set the world on fire but she wasn’t completely clueless in the kitchen. Sure there was the occasional blip, but on the whole he rather liked having Miss Robey around.

‘Has she got a name?’ asked a voice and there was Ellie back at his side offering a bowl of freshly prepared fruits.

‘And what makes you think it’s a she?’

‘Because of her sweet and friendly nature,’ said Ellie with as much sarcasm as she dared. She had, Rafe noticed, a flirtatious way of wrinkling the top of her nose. And he could see little golden flecks in those large hazel eyes twinkling up at him through long curling lashes. At work he avoided close scrutiny of a woman’s eyes, especially when batting her eyelashes at him above a mask. Too much could be read into a surgeon’s casual glance. Safer to keep his eyes on his patient.

Now that a peaceable mood was restored, Ellie felt bold enough to continue. ‘This morning, down at the fish market, who should I bump into but Vivienne Carr! There - in the fish market - Vivienne Carr, the actress.’

‘Good for you,’ came the flat response.

‘There was this smartly dressed woman sitting near me on the plane and I remember thinking she looked sort of familiar. Well, that was Vivienne! Her son manages that posh five-star hotel on the edge of town and Vivienne stays frequently in a little cottage in the hotel grounds.’

Rafe was on the alert. He didn’t like the sound of this. ‘Which hotel?’

‘The Belmira, I think. Yes, the Belmira.’

The frown that darkened Rafe’s face was lost on Ellie as she prattled excitedly on. ‘I didn’t immediately cotton on. The name was at the back of my mind but I don’t go to the theatre much – can’t afford the tickets.’ She congratulated herself on stopping just short of saying, ‘on a student nurse’s pay!’

‘She told me she mostly eats at the hotel but likes to cook fish for herself at least twice a week. She bought me a cappuccino and we’re meeting up again later this week. There’s this fisherman Bernardo and he speaks some English. You should just see all the fish. There’s everything you could think of - why I even saw some shark!’

Rafe made no comment. He tipped the last drops of a bottle of chardonnay into his empty wine glass.
He drinks too much,
frowned Ellie.
Mr Big needs a wife to look after him.

‘Vivienne’s in a Chekhov play at the Aldwych this autumn and she’s come to Portugal to learn her lines in peace and quiet.’

Still no response from the surgeon. This was a very one-sided conversation.

I’ll make him talk to me!
‘Didn’t you see her on the plane?’

‘I had other distractions,’ Rafe said pointedly.

Considering herself rebuked, Ellie bit her lip.

A bleeping sounded and Rafe fished out his Blackberry, glanced at the screen and turning away from the table said quietly, ‘Hi babe, how’s it going?’

Politely Ellie picked up her bowl of fruit and retreated to a sun bed over on the far side of the pool and across from the verandah. But it must have been the water between them making his deep warm voice echo back at her, and though she tried not to listen, every word was clear and audible. She felt guilty to be earwigging, but curiosity was getting the better of discretion and she stayed where she was …

‘Hot yes, but not as hot as where you are… Yes, but I’ll be back here in the evenings as usual so we can skype… That’s right… a student… haven’t asked, hon … cordon bleu it most certainly isn’t.’ The chuckle in his voice had Ellie cringing. He must surely know she could hear him! She put an orange segment in her mouth but it tasted of nothing; a grape went down the wrong way and almost choked her. ‘I step in now and again to avert disaster …’

Ellie’s ears burned. Literally. With shaking fingers she touched one and it felt red and throbbing. ‘No hon, it’s fine. I can crack on with paperwork.’ Several silent minutes passed and Ellie wondered if the call had ended. Then his voice came loud and clear across the water. ‘OK, babe, we’ll skype tomorrow evening …’

The wooden sunlounger creaked as Ellie stood up and crept away barefoot to put the coffee on, carrying her little bronze ballerina shoes in one hand. She set the espresso maker over a low flame and sat down at the table, folding her arms and resting her head on her hands, feeling as if the strength had suddenly drained out of her entire body. And this was how Rafe found her when he walked into the kitchen.

‘You OK, Ellie?’ he asked, genuinely concerned.

She raised her head and said quietly. ‘I’m fine - just a bit tired, that’s all.’

He walked over to the table and drew her hair back from her face, held the back of his hand against her forehead. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

His touch seemed to transmit a new energy and Ellie sprang to her feet. ‘I’m fine, thanks. Coffee will be ready in a minute. Would you like it on the verandah?’

His hand on her hair, touching her face…

It was taking some getting used to – no hugs or kisses, no one laying a finger on her from one day to the next. No wonder she was reacting so violently to a kindly but casual laying on of hands.

‘Black. No sugar. The usual. You’ll find me in the dining room. I’m going to be working late.’

But you have been working all day, she wanted to protest. Why not stay outside, enjoying this lovely evening…

And why choose to work in that gloomy dining room?

Ellie hadn’t investigated any further, finding the place low-lit and the massive dark furniture a bit oppressive. It was a big room with a long rectangular table easily seating twelve. The door was open and the light was on, and there was Rafe poring over catalogues of hospital equipment spread over the table in front of him. Peering over his shoulder Ellie saw that he was looking at surgical instruments and the kind of high-tech equipment found in any operating theatre today. She rummaged in the great sideboard for cork mats, found one, and set his coffee cup within reach but not in his way.

With a future in high-tech Critical Care she was immediately interested, but Rafe Harland mustn’t see this. She must stick to her role of cook and pot-washer and not rouse any suspicions.

‘Do surgeons have to buy their own knives and stuff?’ she asked mischievously, pretending dire ignorance.

‘No Ellie, of course not.’ His voice was patient. ‘Your brother told you I’m a heart surgeon, right? A cardiac consultant.’

‘I know,’ said Ellie happily, playing her part with shining eyes. ‘A very important heart surgeon. A top man.’

‘That’s as maybe,’ said the top man brusquely. ‘My job is to repair the human heart.’ He pulled out a chair so she could sit at his side. ‘Take a look at this.’

Ellie leaned across and her bare arm brushed against his, but the surgeon was so accustomed to ignoring any physical distraction while working that she could easily tell he was quite unaware of her closeness. She peered at the illustration he was pointing to and accidentally on purpose had to increase the pressure of her arm in order to do this. Still he didn’t react, but she most certainly did, feeling the warmth from him flood through her.

‘We bought one of those a year ago and already it’s out of date. Small though it is, our Heart Centre’s got to keep pace with the speed of technology.’ Rafe looked down at the top of the fair head and wondered if she was a bit myopic. Though she seemed able to read perfectly well without glasses. That soft fine hair was the same light colour all the way to the roots and beginning to pick up highlights from the sun’s intensity. A naturally fair girl. Very different from Charlotte’s rich chestnut - which came courtesy of a top London colourist.

A pleasant almond scent rose from her hair and he lowered his head and discreetly inhaled. Ellie Robey was playing games and he knew it. Naughty little thing. He moved his arm and her head shot up. ‘Oh sorry! I didn’t mean to get in your way.’

I’m watching out for you, Miss Robey … Don’t you go falling for me like the rest of them. Under these circumstances it would be highly inconvenient!

‘It’s just that it’s so fascinating,’ she encouraged, her eyes big and wide.

Rafe played along, enjoying her company, happy to be talking about the great motivation of his life. ‘You have no idea how fast the field’s changing. Surgeons themselves come up with new ways of improving instruments and it’s happening all the time.’

Ellie couldn’t conceal her interest in what Rafe was telling her. ‘So you’re looking for improved equipment for your Heart Centre.’

‘Ha! It’s not
mine
- whatever made you think that? I’m just one of several cardiac specialists who come here for short periods of time. We all use this house, you know. The Centre has an arrangement for us so that we can leave some of our things here. We’re an international bunch. Surgeons from France, Germany, the States … we do what we can to help, offering training to experienced heart surgeons in advanced techniques. It’s a sharing of skills, a contribution to the field …’

Ellie lay in bed and thought about Rafe that night. She couldn’t sleep. The room was stuffy.

Jon was right, of course he was: with his clever brain and his brilliant hands, Mr Big saved lives. He was a most worthwhile human being and deserved everyone’s respect. What a pity he wasn’t small and puny and totally lacking in sexual charisma …

Ellie got up and opened the French doors and a breath of cooler air entered the room. She pulled off her loose tee shirt, got back into bed, pushed away the single sheet and within seconds fell deeply asleep …

‘W
atch carefully now!’ I’m going to teach you how to make the perfect
citron pressé.
’

The lemons were fresh from the garden - just picked by the great man himself.

‘Aren’t they a bit green,’ ventured Ellie. She pinched one between finger and thumb.

‘Think I don’t know what I’m doing?’ he challenged.