‘Don’t give it another thought,’ Hugh said magnanimously. ‘It’s my fault for not putting on a gown when I dealt with you…How’s your pain?’
‘Terrible…’ Bonita started, but on second thoughts it wasn’t that bad. In fact, she could lie back just a fraction on the pillow. Oh, she couldn’t move it or anything but if she kept very still, it actually felt OK.
‘That bad, huh?’ Hugh grinned as she promptly closed her eyes. ‘OK, let’s have a proper look at this shoulder now, please.’
But not even IV painkiller could fully take away the sting of Deb cutting off her netball top to reveal a rather grey sports bra, and the agony of trying to remember, as Hugh so gently probed whether or not she’d shaved her armpits in the shower that morning.
‘Sorry, pet, but we need this off for the X-ray,’ Deb said as she snipped away at Bonita’s bra and carefully peeled it off, keeping the breasts covered with the sling and a towel as best she could. ‘Hugh, could you just hold the towel while I feed the drip through the gown?’
‘I’ll do the drip!’ Hugh responded, leaving Deb to hold the towel and hopefully maintain what appeared to be the very last shred of Bonita’s dignity.
It was the only saving grace in the entire afternoon.
‘At least Bill’s not on duty,’ Deb said, trying to cheer her up as she covered her friend as best she could with a threadbare gown, and failed miserably. ‘No woman wants her ex-boyfriend seeing her like this…Bastard!’ she added—just as everyone who worked in Emergency did these days after they said Bill’s name.
Only Bill wasn’t a bastard—anything but. A charge nurse in Emergency, he was an adorable guy, perceptive too, Bonita thought with a brain that was starting to refuse to think. Bill was the only person out of everyone who would understand just how appalling this afternoon was for her.
Bill was the only one who knew about Hugh.
‘Well, it looks straightforward enough!’ Hugh scribbled out his request on a pad. ‘Let’s get her round to X-Ray.’
‘Anterior dislocation.’ Hugh snapped the X-rays onto the viewfinder as soon as Bonita returned. ‘Just as I thought. And no fracture. Let’s get you into Theatre and we can pop it back and soon have you feeling more comfortable.’
It wasn’t the word ‘theatre’ that had her looking aghast. There was a minor theatre in Emergency, which was used mainly for suturing, but procedures such as this one were often performed there. No, it wasn’t that that had her reeling—it was that Hugh was going to do it.
‘You’re supposed to be at a wedding!’
‘That’s not your problem.’
‘No.’ Bonita shook her head, the painkillers making her bravely honest. ‘I don’t want you to be the one putting it back.’
‘I’m sure Andrew would prefer it if he could do it,’ Hugh said, studying the X-ray as she spoke, ‘but he’s in with some relatives and he’s going to be stuck for some time. You know that the sooner we get it back, the less swollen it will be and the less chance of nerve damage.’
‘I know all that! It’s just—’
‘Look!’ As direct as ever, he left off studying the X-rays and came over. ‘I can understand that you’d prefer if it was Andrew who did the procedure. I know you and I don’t particularly get on, and to be honest, yes, there are many other places I’d prefer to be right now, but, all that aside, you know I’m a bloody good doctor…’ Which was so pompous, so backhanded and so utterly Hugh that it really came as no surprise to hear him say it. ‘And I know that shoulder needs to be put back just as soon as possible. So…’ He forced his haughty face into an attempt at a reassuring smile, giving her a glimpse of very white even teeth and green eyes that were utterly bored and less than impressed. ‘If you’ll let me do it, you’ll be on your way home very soon and I might just make it back to the reception in time for the speeches.’
It would have been childish and stupid in the extreme to refuse, and, Bonita thought glumly as with her good hand and a hefty dose of painkillers she attempted a signature on the consent form, her mother would never forgive her.
It was quiet in the little theatre, away from the hubbub of the department. Even though Bonita knew what was going to happen, there was something quite peaceful about just lying down and listening as Deb and Hugh set up for the procedure. A sort of comfort almost as she heard the little blip of the oxygen saturation machine as it was clipped to her finger and Debbie attached some nasal prongs.
‘We’ll give you a sedative,’ Hugh explained, ‘which will send you off into a nice little twilight sleep.
‘Deb, let’s just check her ID.’
It seemed the most pointless, ridiculous thing to be doing. Everyone in the room knew that this was Bonita Azetti and that she was 24 years old, only maybe it wasn’t so pointless because, as it turned out, they didn’t know that she was allergic to penicillin, and though it was highly unlikely she might need it, Deb still scuttled off to get a red armband, just in case. Hugh took off his jacket and waistcoat and hung them up. His immaculate shirt had lifted out of his trousers a touch and she was treated to a woozy glimpse of tanned flesh as he tucked himself in. She was too out of it to even bother looking away.
‘OK?’ Hugh asked when he turned around.
‘Fantastic!’
‘You will be soon.’
‘Aren’t you going to take off your shoes?’ Bonita almost managed a joke. For one particularly difficult dislocation she’d assisted him with she’d seen him place the ball of his foot in the patient’s armpit to provide traction as he pulled on the arm, though admittedly that had been on some vast, muscle-bound farmhand.
‘I don’t need to for a skinny thing like you. It’ll just pop back in.’ Still she could see the towel over the trolley that Deb would pull on and nerves started to catch up with her as she remembered the pain she’d been in.
‘It’s going to hurt!’
‘It won’t hurt at all. We’ll wait till the sedative has taken effect, and anyway,’ Hugh reassured her, ‘it’s a brilliant amnesiac—you won’t remember a thing afterwards!’
‘Your mum’s on her way pet,’ Deb added, but that only made things worse. The next batch of tears for the day came pouring out as she thought of her mother on the way.
‘She doesn’t need this!’ Bonita sobbed into the paper towel Hugh ripped off the dispenser and handed her, ‘what with dad being so sick and everything…And it’s tourist time; the shop’s really busy at the moment—’
‘Hey!’ Hugh cut off the dramatics. ‘This could be exactly what she needs. You’re going to have a few weeks off with this shoulder—it might help having you around right now.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Your dad will love having you home…’ Hugh soothed. ‘OK…’ He dragged a stool over with his foot and carried on chatting away as he connected the syringe to the bung, talking to calm her down as he would to any nervous patient. ‘Let’s get this medicine into you. Now, just think nice thoughts—it will all work out. I know things are difficult at home right now, but this could end up being the best thing that ever…’ His voice was sort of slowing down, his mouth moved at normal speed but the words were starting to sound jumbled. She could see Deb walking over and talking to Rita who had come to the theatre door, could see Hugh staring down at her as he quietly and calmly waited for the sedative to take effect, knew that she was OK, because Deb was still happily chatting to Rita and Hugh didn’t look remotely fazed.
He was looking at her again, his eyes holding hers, observing her carefully.
He really did have beautiful eyes, Bonita thought—though green didn’t really accurately describe them. Maybe hazel would be a better choice, because just at the inner rim of the iris there was a swirl of gold. He was smiling at her, a sort of soft, gentle smile that she hadn’t seen in a long time, a patient, kind smile that she remembered of old.
The one that had always made her tummy curl into itself, Bonita thought dreamily.
And even if he was a bas
tard at times, even if it had been so hard to work with him in Emergency, to see him with her family, these past few months, it was as if all the mist that had surrounded them was finally clearing and just the simple truth remained.
‘I do love you!’
She could see him frown just a touch, see him glance up to where Deb was still chatting, then he gave her a sort of patronising smile. She could feel his hand patting her in a sort of ‘there, there’ motion, as if she had no idea what she was saying, as if she couldn’t possibly know how she felt. She knew she was drifting off and suddenly for Bonita it was imperative that he get it, imperative that she make herself absolutely clear. She tried to lift her head off the pillow, only it was too heavy. All she was able to do was look at him and hopefully the urgency in her eyes might convey this imperative point, as she sensationally elaborated.
‘Hugh—I’ve always loved you.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘ALL done!’ Deb’s smiling face was the first thing Bonita saw as she awoke, her voice soothing as she welcomed Bonita back to the world. ‘Everything’s back where it should be so you should be feeling a lot more comfortable. For now just have a little rest!’
In stages she remembered: the tackle at netball; the journey here; Hugh…She cringed at the scene she’d made when he’d tried to get the IV in and cringed again when she remembered that she’d been sick.
Not that Hugh noticed her cringe now—he barely even glanced at her as he spoke.
‘Wiggle your fingers for me!’ he snapped, deigning to give her nothing more than a cursory glance as he slipped his fingers into the navy shoulder immobiliser and again checked her radial pulse. ‘How does it feel?’
‘Fine.’ Bonita blinked in surprise, because it actually did feel fine. Staring around the familiar room from where she lay, she carried on wiggling her fingers, even rearranged herself a touch on the pillows, and it didn’t hurt a bit! ‘Did it go back OK?’
‘Easily!’ Hugh gave a tight smile. ‘It popped straight back.’
‘How long was I out for?’ Bonita asked, but Hugh wasn’t listening. His duties over, he was back to being his usual abrasive, rude self where she was concerned. He didn’t even attempt to answer her question, just filled out her notes.
‘You were just out for ten minutes or so.’ Deb filled in the silence. ‘Everything went really well.’
‘You’ve got a visitor!’ Rita popped her head around the theatre door, closely followed by Bonita’s mother’s rather striking head of curls.
‘Oh, Bonny! What on earth happened?” Carmel Azetti was one hundred per cent Australian but, having been married to Luigi for forty-four years, some Italianisms had certainly rubbed off. Seeing her daughter, pale, drained and looking wretched, Carmel came marching over with her arms outstretched. In fact, as Bonita, mindful of her newly placed shoulder, cringed on the trolley, she thought it was odd that the one time her mother might just display some affection, she didn’t want her to!
‘Gently Carmel…’ As if Hugh had applied brakes, Carmel came to a stop in the nick of time and Hugh caught Carmel into a hug of his own, which was probably the last thing he wanted to do, given her mother was dressed in grubby jeans and a T-shirt, with even grubbier boots, and she reeked to high heaven of horses! Not that Hugh seemed to mind but, then, he’d always adored her mother—it was the daughter he had issues with!
‘Sorry to call you to come to the hospital like that. It must have given you a fright.’
‘It did,’ Carmel admitted. ‘Mind you, you’d think I’d be used to it by now, three sons and then Calamity Jane here…’ She gave an exasperated sigh as she stared over at her daughter. ‘After you knocked yourself out last year, you said you weren’t going to play netball this season.’
‘The team were short a player!’ Bonita grumbled. ‘They’d have had to forfeit the game otherwise.’
‘Well, I wish they had!’ Carmel sighed, her brief display of affection soon wearing off as she reverted to her rather more usual brusque self. Bonita couldn’t blame her. Her mother had a terminally ill husband, a winery to run, horses to exercise and take care of, and now she had an incapacitated daughter to deal with.
‘I’m sorry, Mum!’ Bonita said. ‘I just didn’t think—’
‘You never do!’ Carmel snapped.
‘Well, I’m going to have to leave you ladies. I’ve got one more patient to wrap up and then I really must get going. Andrew will see you tomorrow at ten a.m. at the fracture clinic,’ Hugh instructed, ‘just to check everything’s OK. Then your GP can take over your care.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘You need to be reviewed tomorrow!’ Hugh clipped.
‘It feels OK,’ Bonita insisted, knowing how busy Sundays were for her mother, how busy every day was for her right now, but Hugh wasn’t having any of it.
‘It feels fine because while you were under I injected local anaesthetic into your shoulder to help you through tonight, but you ought to be seen when it’s worn off—to make sure there isn’t a trapped nerve or anything. Which,’ he added, just to make her blush for her carry-on before, ‘you yourself were worried about.’
He wasn’t even pretending to be nice to her now. He just stalked off with her notes to see his other patient.
Of course he wouldn’t have sat twiddling his thumbs waiting for her to come back from X-Ray. The place was busy so naturally he’d help out, Bonita thought as Carmel tried to help her into jeans that felt way too small. Bonita didn’t even attempt to put on the T-shirt.
‘I’m in an arm immobilizer, Mum!’ Bonita grumbled. ‘How would I even get it on? I’m just going to have to wear the gown home.’
“Well, excuse me for trying,’ Carmel snapped back as she did up Bonita’s netball runners. ‘I’m a farmer’s wife, not a nurse!’
‘I need another gown,’ Bonita said, ‘to cover my bottom—’
‘Just hold it!’ Carmel said briskly. ‘We’re not borrowing two! I’ll wash it and you can give it back tomorrow when I bring you for your appointment.’
‘I can get a taxi tomorrow,’ Bonita offered, chewing her bottom lip. ‘You’ve got church.’
‘I’ll just have to go to evening Mass,’ Carmel said, trying, but not that hard, to make out that it didn’t matter, that Bonita wasn’t this massive inconvenience that had suddenly landed on her.
‘I’m sorry, Mum.’
‘Stop it!’ Carmel said firmly. ‘I can deal with anything except your tears! Let’s just get you home.’
Home!
Bonita knew Carmel didn’t mean the little flat she shared with Emily. She shuffled along the corridor, clutching the gap in the hospital gown for dear life. It really didn’t help that all her colleagues came out to say goodbye and Carmel seized the opportunity for a quick word with Hugh, who was on his way out with Amber.
‘You are coming to the barbeque, I hope?’ Bonita’s heart skipped a beat as she walked into the end of the conversation. ‘You too,’ Carmel added to the surly face standing beside him. ‘Nothing fancy, just the annual Azetti barbeque, too much food, too much wine…’
‘I’m actually working that weekend Carmel,’ Hugh politely declined, ‘though I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Well, please, do!’ A straight shooter, it would never have entered her mother’s head to read between the lines, Bonita realized. She wouldn’t even guess that Hugh was trying to politely wriggle out of it. And why would he want to come? It may be a tradition but it had been years since Hugh had been here. He’d been in London, had spent a year in France, for goodness’ sake. As if he and Amber were hankering for a sausage in bread and the whole circus of her family. ‘We’d like to see you there—especially with Luigi not being well.’ For a second so fleeting it was barely there, Bonita could have sworn she saw her mother falter, knew, because they all knew, that this would be the last Azetti barbeque with Luigi—not that she wavered long. ‘You wait in the foyer,’ Carmel instructed Bonita. ‘I’ll bring the ute round.’
‘A nice cup of tea.’ Carmel jerked the Ute into first gear. ‘That will soon fix you up.’
Home.
Seeing the cellar door sales sign and the endless rows of vines catching the sun as they drove up the driveway, Bonita felt her stomach turn over. Oh, she’d come home almost every other day since her father’s condition had worsened, which was more than her brothers did. Ricky and Marco were partners in an equine veterinary practice out near Bendigo, which was a good couple of hours away, and with their busy schedules they couldn’t get away that often. Her brother Paul, a surgical registrar at the same hospital where Bonita worked, seemed permanently busy these days—only managing a whirlwind visit to his parents once or twice a week. This left the everyday things like doctors’ appointments and shopping for Bonita to deal with, and though she didn’t mind in the least, was glad to help out her parents as much as she could, living here again was going to be an entirely different matter.
As she gingerly lowered herself from the ute, sniffed at the familiar scent of fermenting grapes, heard the horses whinnying, saw the endless rows of vines—despite the abundance of space, she could almost feel the walls closing in around her, a nervous thud of recognition as her mother scolded her to hurry up, and not for the first time since they’d commenced the journey home, Bonita wondered if she was up to it.
English Doctor, Italian Bride Page 2