I’ve been there, very recently actually.’
Fingers parting, she peered out at him.
‘Were you married?’
‘No.’
‘Did you have surgery the night you found your partner in bed with someone else?’
‘No.’
‘Were your family on the other side of the country?’
‘No.’ He gave a soft laugh. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re going through, have I? I’ll shut up now.’
She gave a thin smile.
‘How you are you feeling?’
‘It’s painful, of course, but not as much as I expected it to be.’
‘I wasn’t speaking as your doctor, I was asking how you were feeling.’
Pale eyes squinted up at him. ‘As I said, it’s painful, of course, but not as much as I expected it to be.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You don’t have to be.’
‘Is there anything that you need?’
Harriet shook her head. ‘Drew’s going to pack a case for me.’ She registered his frown. ‘He offered to move out, but I told him I don’t want to go back there. I’ll go and sort out my things when I’m more up to it.’
‘So what will you do now? Where will you go?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Harriet said with rather more confidence than she felt. She wanted him to just go, couldn’t bear to see the sympathy in his eyes. ‘Could you pull the curtains as you leave?’
And maybe some of it had been lost in translation, because Ciro did pull the curtains, but remained beside her bed, staring down at her for a while before finally talking.
‘Harriet, what will you do when you are discharged? I mean, who will look after you? Are you going to stay with a friend?’
Why wouldn’t he just leave it, why did he have to just keep pushing, making her feel like some sort of social misfit? It wasn’t as if she didn’t have friends, but, given the fact she’d only been in Sydney six months, they were hardly close enough to ask if she could borrow their spare room to recuperate. But instead of explaining, Harriet gave a tight shrug.
‘What about Judith?’
‘Judith?’ Harriet gave a slightly incredulous laugh.
‘She speaks very highly of you.’
‘Since when were you and Judith on speaking terms?’
‘I telephoned her last night about an hour after she went off duty.’ Ciro shrugged. ‘Our altercation left me with an aftertaste.’ Harriet didn’t even attempt to correct him, his poor English didn’t matter. That he had taken the time to call Judith and set the record straight, even though she had treated him so rudely, had her blinking in awe at his insight. ‘She said that you had already spoken to her and she was feeling much better.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘We both apologised.’
‘She’s as soft as butter really.’ Harriet smiled fondly.
‘And she was most concerned about you when she arrived on duty.’
‘I’m not asking Judith if I can stay with her,’ Harriet responded firmly. ‘I’ll check into a motel or something.’
‘Look,’ he said, as if it were open for discussion, as if she’d actually asked for his help, ‘I’m staying in serviced apartments. They’re very nice, right on the beach, there’s a gym, a pool.’
‘I’m recovering from an operation,’ Harriet snapped. ‘I’m hardly up for an aerobic workout.’
‘The rooms are serviced daily, the beds made, the dishes done—at least you could concentrate on yourself. Why don’t you think about it? It really is a good idea.’
‘I know why you’re doing this.’ Her blue eyes flashed, embarrassment making her angry. ‘Just because you’re the only one who knows what’s going on with my life, it doesn’t mean you have to step in. I’m not asking for help.’
‘And that is what is so annoying!’ Ciro retorted, his response equally sharp. ‘Why you have to make this an issue? And I know,’ he added before Harriet could, ‘that I said that terribly, but don’t correct me to avoid the issue.’
‘I’m not avoiding anything.’ Harriet sniffed.
‘Oh, yes, you are,’ Ciro responded. ‘You’re so damned independent, so damned used to coping with things by yourself, you can’t bear the thought of leaning on someone.’
Independent! Never in a million years would Harriet have used that word to describe herself. She was stunned that that was how Ciro perceived her. Up till then she’d assumed he was feeling sorry for her.
It came as a pleasant surprise to realise that she actually infuriated him.
‘Look, Ciro, we barely know each other. We’ve only worked together for half a night, it’s hardly enough to become flatmates!’
She’d never heard him laugh before, a deep, low laugh, and if she’d been embarrassed before, when he spoke next, Harriet was mortified.
‘Hardly. But I happen to know that the apartment on the floor below me has just become vacant.’
‘Oh.’
‘I could speak to the landlord for you.’
‘Oh.’
‘Would you like me to?’
When she didn’t answer, Ciro pushed a touch harder. ‘The rates are quite reasonable.’ Harriet’s eyes widened as he told her the weekly rental. Clearly, Ciro’s vision of reasonable differed from hers, but the thought of having the bed made and the vacuuming done, of bay views and gentle walks along the beach while she got her head together were starting to make themselves known. Fiercely expensive it may be, but over the years she’d been so boringly good with money, she’d somehow managed to support Drew and put a bit away for a rainy day.
Well, the rainy day had arrived and it was pouring.
Pouring.
Force-ten gales were howling, sandbags were out and it was time to strap on her buoyancy jacket—time to do as the emergency cards on planes said and look after herself first for once and stop worrying about everyone else.
‘There’s also a restaurant on the ground floor. They offer room service.’
‘Sold!’ Harriet said finally.
‘Sold?’ Ciro questioned.
‘That’s a yes, Ciro.’ She smiled.
