The Italian's Touch

Fleur handed him the cup. ‘Always,’ she admitted sheepishly.

Mario just laughed. ‘You like a decent brew also?’

‘I might even start drinking it at work now you’ve bought the machine.’ If I’ve still got a job, she nearly added.

Taking the cup from her, their fingers brushed and Fleur suddenly felt incredibly awkward.

‘May we sit?’

‘Of course. Come through.’

The lounge was large and spacious, but a cricket field would have felt suffocating at the moment. ‘Look, I know what this is about,’ Fleur ventured. ‘I’d like to apologise…’

Mario put up his hand, effectively halting her from going any further. ‘It is I who should be apologising.’

‘You?’ Fleur asked, nonplussed. ‘But why?’

‘For my thoughtless comments this morning. I had no idea you were a widower.’

‘A widow,’ Fleur corrected gently. ‘And, please, don’t give it a moment’s thought. You weren’t to know.’

‘Perhaps not, and I am grateful to you for accepting my apology. But that doesn’t excuse this week’s events.’

Here it came! Fleur braced herself for a few sharp words Italian-style but again the wind was taken from her sails when he continued, ‘I most certainly should have known that you were a widow…’ He learns quickly, Fleur thought. ‘I am speechless, no, I am furious, that Danny did not have the decency to tell me. And not just me—all the staff should have been notified about the terrible circumstances surrounding your husband’s death.’

‘But most know anyway,’ Fleur said, instantly defending Danny. ‘I’m sure Danny just assumed—’

‘Then he should not have. He goes on and on about team spirit, comradeship, and then when it really matters he just assumes things are taken care of. I only found out from a passing comment he made this afternoon. I have teared him off a strip.’

Fleur didn’t bother to correct him as she was somewhat taken back by his obvious anger.

‘This must have been a terrible week for you, and undoubtedly there will be many more to come. The staff should be sensitive, helping you through. How can we if we are not even told about something as important as this?’

Fleur let out a sigh of relief. From the way he was talking it sounded as if he expected her to come back. ‘I am sorry, though, and not just about the coffee. I feel as if I’ve let everybody down.’

‘No, Fleur, they have let you down. It all should have been handled so much better. Danny told me you were actually on duty when your husband was brought in.’

Fleur nodded simply.

‘Are you able to tell me about it? Maybe then I can help.’

‘I doubt it.’ Looking up, she saw his eyes were fixed directly on her.

Embarrassed, nervous, her eyes flicked quickly away, her gaze coming to rest on her wedding picture. Perhaps she should tell him. Perhaps then he would understand her fear of going into Resus. And who knew? Maybe he could help.

Swallowing a couple of times, Fleur’s voice came out quietly and Mario had to lean forward to catch what she was saying, his eyes never once leaving her face.

‘It was just a normal Saturday night, busy as usual. I was down for Resus. We got an alert that a multiple MVA was coming in. A motor vehicle accident,’ she explained unnecessarily, but Mario just nodded his understanding as she tentatively continued. ‘As the news started to trickle in we learnt there was a stolen car involved. The police had been in pursuit, and one officer was trapped and one dead. I assured myself at first that Rory couldn’t be involved—he was a detective, not out on patrol. Then the paramedic bringing in the first victim made a casual remark about it having been an unmarked police car. I started to panic then. I knew I had to call him. I knew that I would be useless for work until I heard for myself that he was safe…’

‘Go on,’ he urged, but gently. Making his way across the room, he sat beside her on the sofa as she struggled to continue, his hand reaching for hers.

‘I hadn’t even dialled the station number when I saw Danny walking towards me. His face was grim and I just knew what was coming. I can remember actually feeling sorry for Danny when he delivered the news. It must have been the worst moment in his nursing career—telling a close colleague that her husband, the father of her five-year-old son, was seriously injured, on his way in with full resuscitation in progress.’

‘Did you have to work on your husband?’

‘No, nothing so dramatic. We weren’t so short-staffed then.’ Fleur managed a wry laugh but there was a catch in it and she started to cry. ‘I just sat in the staffroom with the nurse supervisor. She kept offering to make phone calls, but I needed to know how bad it was for myself before I tried to tell others.’ She was crying in earnest now. ‘Then Danny was in the doorway, with Kathy beside him. They didn’t have to say anything. One look at their faces and I knew it was over.’ She looked at the picture on the mantelpiece, the utter despair in her voice so achingly apparent that Mario wrapped his arm around her as if he could somehow shield her from the bitter end that was coming. ‘I knew then that Rory, my Rory, Alex’s dad, wasn’t going to be coming home, not ever.’

He let her cry for a while, his arm tightly around her as she wept onto his chest. Finally, when her mascara had long since gone and she’d reached the hiccoughing stage, he gently sat her up. Without a word he made his way to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water which Fleur sipped gratefully.