by T A Williams
She found herself sitting at table along with what she first thought to be four strangers, but she soon found she did after all know two of them. The couple who looked vaguely familiar turned out to have been part of their gang way back in her teenage years, when they had spent the summers splashing about in the little stream down in the valley. They were soon reminiscing and the girl, Annarosa, told Lucy something surprising.
‘I’ll tell you something about Bruno. I bet you didn’t know he was head over heels in love with you back then, did you?’
‘Bruno in love with me? I had no idea.’ Lucy grinned at them. ‘Pity he didn’t say anything. I quite fancied him myself when I was fourteen or fifteen.’ She glanced around the room until she spotted him over on table four, positioned next to Virginia who was pressed tight up against him. ‘Still, it seems like he’s found himself a new love now. They look good together.’ And they did.
Annarosa lowered her voice, although they had already worked out that Daniela’s Auntie Rita alongside them was as deaf as a post and her husband far more interested in emptying the bottle of Chianti Classico on the table in front of him. ‘They’ve been together for about five years now but he still hasn’t asked her to marry him and they don’t even live together. I think Virginia’s getting a bit fed up.’
‘Well, at least she can’t accuse him of rushing into anything.’
‘That’s for sure. So, Lucy, how long are you staying here in Tuscany?’
‘I’m probably only here for a few more days and then I’ll be off again.’
Annarosa looked disappointed. ‘Oh, I was hoping you’d come back to stay. Why don’t you stay? We’d all love it if you did. It would be just like old times.’
‘I need to work, I’m afraid, and I doubt there’s anything for me here. Daniela and I were talking the other day. I might apply for something in Sicily, though. That’s still Italy, after all.’
Annarosa gave a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘Sicily’s hundreds and hundreds of kilometres away. You might as well be back in England.’
Lucy nodded sadly. Annarosa was right.
As soon as they had all finished their coffees, glasses of sweet Vin Santo and cantuccini biscuits, waiters arrived and started moving the tables to the sides of the room, revealing the dance floor. The band arrived and set up their instruments and soon the stage was set for the happy couple’s first dance together. Lucy joined in the clapping as Daniela and Pietro performed the dance she had seen them rehearsing for hours over the past week. In view of the fact that Daniela was expecting, they had deliberately chosen a slow, romantic waltz and they performed it gracefully and impeccably. Lucy was as relieved as they appeared to be when it went off without a hitch. After that, most of the guests headed for the dance floor and Lucy found herself dancing with a gangly fifteen- or sixteen-year-old who bore a passing resemblance to Bruno himself all those years ago. He even had the same spots on his cheeks. How strange that with the passage of the years, her attraction to Bruno had waned. She was still pondering why this should have happened as the music came to a halt and her partner thanked her awkwardly and led her back to her seat.
Before she could get there, however, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Daniela’s smooth-talking colleague, Tommy, standing there, that same cocky smile on his lips.
‘Hi, again, Lucy. Would you like to dance?’
She couldn’t really say no, so she followed him out onto the dance floor and danced a couple of numbers with him. There wasn’t much opportunity to chat, but she could tell he was very interested in her and she found herself evaluating him. He was fairly good-looking in a showy way, definitely a charmer – but that probably came with the job – and he was a good dancer. She quite enjoyed being with him but that was as far as it went. There was something about him that jarred just a bit. He never seemed to stop smiling and he was so damn attentive it just felt fake. Although there was a tradition in some circles for bridesmaids to end up in bed with unattached male guests, she knew this wasn’t going to happen, so she danced with him, but knew that nothing was going to happen. She hoped he would gradually get the message.
After a quarter of an hour or so, as the music slowed, she decided to return to the table where she had left her glass just in case Tommy decided to get any more intimate. Before she could get there, she heard another voice.
‘You’re not giving up already, surely?’ Her immediate reaction was one of relief. It was Bruno, a smile on his lips.
‘Care to dance?’ He looked over at Tommy. ‘You don’t mind, do you? We’re old friends and we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’
Tommy gave them a resigned smile and bowed out. Before going back onto the dance floor with Bruno, Lucy instinctively glanced around to see if Virginia was watching from the wings, but she failed to spot her. Bruno must have realised her concern as he was quick to offer reassurance.
‘Virginia’s popped back to the clinic to check on a couple of things… like our tennis player for example. So, come on, let’s dance.’
They danced together to the slow tune, which lasted barely a couple of minutes before the band launched into a lively and noisy version of some indecipherable Italian pop song. The next dance was another far slower, softer affair and they ended up holding each other, and she felt his mouth close to her ear.
‘This is nice. When I was a teenager I often dreamt about dancing with you like this, Lucy. Who says dreams never come true?’
‘This is nice and it’s been lovely to meet up with you again, Bruno. It’s a pity I’m only here for a few more days. It would have been nice to have dinner with you and Virginia again.’ His reaction was surprise and maybe disappointment.
‘A few days? I thought you were here for a good long holiday.’
The more Lucy thought about it, the more she realised that now that Daniela was going off on her honeymoon to Sicily, it would be a bit weird to stay on with her mum. She did a bit of quick thinking.
‘I’ve decided it’s time I learned to scuba dive.’
In fact, this was something she had often considered doing – particularly when she had found herself pretty much bang in the middle of Africa, about a thousand miles from any ocean – although the idea had only just returned to her this instant. She quickly ran through her knowledge of Italian geography in her head before plumping for one of the Tuscan islands in the Mediterranean to the west of here. The one that immediately came to mind was the one where a massive cruise liner had gone aground some years earlier.
‘I’ve been checking it out on the internet. There’s a place on the Isola del Giglio that does diving courses. I think I’m going to head off there in a few days once I’ve finished helping Daniela’s mum clear everything up.’
He was still looking disappointed so she gave his shoulders a little squeeze. ‘I’ll be back sometime though. Maybe for your wedding to Virginia?’
‘Maybe.’
She spent the rest of the dance in silence and, as the music came to an end, he led her back towards her seat. Before they got there, she pointed across the room. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I can see the bridegroom on his own and I promised him a dance.’ She reached up and planted a little kiss on his cheek. Pulling herself away, she added. ‘And do let me know if you and Virginia feel like dinner one night, depending on when I leave – but no arguments, this time I’m paying.’
Chapter 5
Giglio was lovely, and very different from Poggio San Marco and the area around Siena. Only an hour by ferry from the mainland of Tuscany, the whole feel of the place was radically different. Here, the sea was omnipresent and Lucy went to sleep each night to the sound of waves lapping on the beach below her window. Her recurring bad dreams were continuing to diminish in frequency and these restful surroundings only increased her sense of well-being. She took photos and sent them to her parents and to Geneviève and Nicole. As far as she could tell, the two nurses were also managing to put the scary experiences behind them and get on with their live
s although Geneviève, like Lucy, admitted to still having bad dreams. Unfortunately, neither of them had any news about their former colleagues and patients, particularly Lucy’s close friend, Miriam. Lucy sent off yet another email more in hope than anything else. Weeks had passed since she had last seen her, and the news from Mabenta was still grim.
Here on the tree-covered island, however, it was altogether very relaxing and Lucy had plenty of time to read up on the history of Giglio as well as taking diving lessons each morning. She made a point of driving up and down the very few narrow, winding roads of the little island in her hire car and spending her afternoons visiting Roman and Etruscan ruins around the rocky coastline.
Seagulls screamed above her head as she climbed the narrow paths while, below her, gorgeous rich red flowers clothed the rocky shore. The crystal clear water, viewed from the cliff tops, revealed every rock on the sea bed for a long way out. The little fishing village, now turned holiday resort, where she was based was small and charming, although at this time of year the population of the island appeared to be pretty much in the Budleigh Salterton age bracket. This didn’t bother her as she wasn’t there for the nightlife. It was a wonderfully quiet, peaceful place and she was pleased to see that no trace now remained of the wrecked cruise ship that had hit the rocks, and the headlines, in 2012.
The diving school was owned and run by a German couple and they did a very good job. As Lucy reached the end of her course, she was already beginning to feel quite comfortable underwater, without any of the ear problems some of her fellow trainees had been suffering. It had definitely been a good choice to come here. While on the island she had had enough to do to stop her feeling bored, but at the same time she had been able to continue her programme of R&R. As the days went by, she felt her batteries recharging, no doubt fuelled at least in part by the excellent seafood on offer in the island’s restaurants.
Then, on the final evening of the course, as she was sitting at a table with the other members of the group, proudly clutching her precious PADI Open Water diving certificate, she received a phone call. It was Bruno.
‘Ciao, Bruno. How’re you and Virginia?’
‘Lucy, ciao. It’s good to hear your voice. We’re fine, thanks. How’s life on the island?’
They chatted for a minute or two before he came to the point of his call.
‘I… we were wondering if you had made any decisions about your future. Are you going back to Médecins Sans Frontières?’
‘To be honest, I haven’t really come to any conclusions, but I imagine unless something else comes along I’ll go back to MSF and ask to be sent to somewhere a bit safer.’
‘I see. Right, well, you see, it’s like this. A vacancy’s come up here at the clinic and I mentioned your name to my boss in case you might feel like coming to work with us. He’s very keen to meet you.’
Lucy waved apologetically at her fellow diners, got up and walked down the wooden steps that led to the beach. As she moved further away from the noise of the restaurant, she asked him for more information.
‘We have an opening for a general surgeon. This is not to replace somebody who’s leaving, but a brand-new position. The problem with Mr Lorenzo and the gunshot wound has brought home to us that we may have got too specialised over the past few years and we need to broaden our base. The director’s decided we don’t just want to focus on cosmetic surgery, orthopaedics and physical rehab. We need to be able to respond to all sorts of cases – although hopefully no further shooting incidents. He thinks – and so do I – that your qualifications, background and wide experience are exactly what we’re looking for. If you think you might be interested – and I really hope you will be – he says he’ll get somebody to email you all the details. Do you think this might be something that appeals to you?’ He sounded genuinely keen.
Lucy perched on a rocky outcrop and thought about it. On the face of it, it sounded wonderful. If she took the job she would find herself in a state-of-the-art hospital, set in just about her favourite place in all the world, and it promised to be a rich and varied position and, most important of all, without black mambas and with nobody trying to kill her. What did worry her, however, was the idea of going into private medicine which, by definition, would be reserved for the privileged few, when she felt sure her heart lay in helping those less fortunate than herself. Would she be ignoring all her natural instincts? She decided to buy herself some time.
‘Thank you so much, Bruno, that really does sound most attractive. I don’t want to let anybody down so I need to speak to my boss at MSF first to see that they haven’t already made plans for me, but, in principle, I’m very interested. If you’d like to ask the director to send me the details, I’ll think it through and I’ll send him over a copy of my CV. I’m still here tomorrow, but I’ll be heading back to Siena on Friday so I could come and see the director then if he’s still keen.’ She dictated her email address and rang off.
Before returning to the dinner table she sat for a good long while looking out across the sea towards the twinkling lights of the Tuscan mainland in the far distance. Back in war-torn Africa, when she had thought about escaping to Tuscany, this sort of job would have been beyond her wildest dreams. In so many ways, it was too good to turn down, but there was the major stumbling block of her reservations about private medicine. Presumably she would find out how she would react only when she got there, but it worried her. When she finally roused herself and returned to her now cold grilled sardines, she was still turning it over in her head.
When she got back to her room, she found an email from Virginia, whose official title turned out to be Senior Administrative Officer at the Siena Clinic. The contents of the email suddenly made Lucy’s decision a whole lot easier. The salary they were offering was over twice as much as she had been earning with MSF and that made the job much more difficult to turn down, even though deep inside she was still worried at the sort of people she would find herself treating. Would she be selling her soul to the devil if she accepted? Still, she reflected as she drifted off to sleep, on a salary like that she would be able to afford to buy herself that little house she had dreamt of for so long. And the first thing she would plant would be a rose bush by the door.
She didn’t sleep very well that night, despite being untroubled by gruesome nightmares. Instead, her subconscious had been turning this exciting new proposal over and over again in her mind. Next morning she emailed her boss at MSF in London, indicating that she had been offered another job in Italy, but specifying that she didn’t want to let anybody down. To her delight, barely three minutes later, she received a call back from Dr Brown herself. Lucy had received a couple of emails from the UK Director General since her return from the Congo, but it had been a while since she had heard her soft Scottish accent.
‘Lucy, so good to hear from you. How are you after your experiences in the DRC?’
Lucy told her that she was recovering well and didn’t burden her with an account of her bad dreams. She told her a bit more about the job offer at the Siena Clinic and Dr Brown sounded very supportive.
‘You’re free to decide to do whatever you like, Lucy. We would love to keep you on here at MSF, and the very least we can promise you would be a position somewhere well away from any form of conflict. But I would equally understand if you decided this was the time to make a change. Please choose whatever road you think will suit you best.’
Lucy felt she had to tell her what was worrying her most. ‘The thing is, I’ve always got a kick out of helping the poor and the dispossessed. I suppose I’m worried I might find such a big change distasteful. I need to be true to my principles.’
‘I know what you mean, Lucy, but remember, they’re still people who’re sick, who need your help. The fact that they can pay for it doesn’t reduce their need. From what you tell me, the position’s for a general surgeon, so you wouldn’t just be pandering to rich people’s vanity but looking after patients with real medical problems to be
solved. Besides, I happen to know Michelangelo Gualtieri, the Director of the Siena Clinic, and I have nothing but respect for him as a doctor and as a man of principle. You’re a very talented surgeon, Lucy. Everybody says that, and you know there’ll always be a job with us if you change your mind. If you do decide to take the Italian job, give Michelangelo my name as a referee, and whatever you do, don’t think that you’re selling out if you choose to go into private medicine. They’re still patients in need.’
By the time she put the phone down, Lucy felt reassured that she wouldn’t be burning her bridges with MSF and a bit more confident that she wouldn’t be betraying her principles. She sent an email to Professor Gualtieri, telling him she was very interested indeed, giving him the email address of her boss in London for a reference, and offering to come in for interview. She was booked onto the car ferry next morning and it was only a two-hour drive from Porto Santo Stefano back to Siena, so she told them she could be there after lunch. The reply came back almost immediately and they arranged that she would drive up to the clinic at three o’clock the following afternoon.
* * *
This time her arrival at the clinic was a lot slower than on the previous occasion and she had time to take in the scale and the beauty of the hospital and its scenic location on the hillside looking down on the red roofs of Siena. Beyond the city were the Tuscan hills where Daniela’s mother’s house at Poggio San Marco was clearly visible near the top of the first of these. A steel and glass sign at the gate indicated the name of the hospital simply as the Villa delle Ginestre, with the discreet strapline beneath it in English: The Siena Clinic. The villa was built in the classic Tuscan style and was probably several hundred years old, although a large ultramodern extension had been built at the back. The walls of the villa were white, the louvred shutters a tasteful pale blue-grey, and the surrounding park with its specimen trees a delight. As a place to work, it definitely beat the hell out of the clinic in Mabenta.