‘Amnesia. Hopefully, he’ll recover his memory soon, but it must be really scary, not knowing who you are.’
‘You’re talking about Marco?’ Gina queried, then flushed when Julie looked at her in surprise. ‘That is his name, isn’t it? I think that’s what it said in his notes.’
‘Yes, that’s right. Marco Andretti. Apparently he’s a doctor, a trauma specialist, no less. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse, do you?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ Gina replied, struggling to follow what her friend was saying. ‘Are you telling me that he’s lost his memory?’
‘Hmm. Seems he had no idea who he was or where he was going when he was brought into ED. All the paramedics could tell them was that he was on his way from Heathrow when he was involved in an RTA.’
‘So how did they find out his name?’
‘One of the staff went through his pockets and found his passport—they got the details from that. They also found a letter confirming the time and date of an interview for the post of Head of Trauma care at the Southern Free. He must be pretty high up the ladder if he’s being interviewed for a post like that.’ Julie grimaced. ‘Not that it helps very much at the moment. It must be awful for him, mustn’t it? He’s all on his own in a strange country and he hasn’t got a clue who he is.’
‘So what’s going to happen next?’ Gina asked, her head reeling from what she had learned. Marco had come to London to attend an interview? She had never imagined that he would leave Italy and the news threw her so that it was hard to concentrate when Julie continued.
‘The police are going to try to contact his family. I expect he’s married. I can’t imagine a gorgeous hunk like him being single, can you? Hopefully, his wife will be able to fly over to be with him. One thing’s certain, though—he’s going to need a lot of support until he gets his memory back.’
Gina put the sandwich down after Julie left. Standing up, she went to the door. She could just see the end bay from where she stood although she couldn’t see the man who was lying in the bed there. So Marco had lost his memory? He didn’t remember who he was or anything about his life? She too had read about this kind of thing happening, but had never experienced it. Would he remember her? she wondered suddenly.
Her heart began to race. In one way it would be so much easier if he had forgotten about her, yet in another she couldn’t bear to think that those few weeks they’d spent together might have been expunged from his mind forever. Even though it was crazy to feel like this, she knew she had to find out.
She closed the staffroom door and made her way back to the ward. Everything was starting to settle down now as the patients adjusted to the idea that they were in hospital. There was open visiting in AAU and there were a number of friends and relatives gathered around the beds, but even they seemed calmer. It was always a shock when a loved one was rushed into hospital and people reacted in many different ways to the stress.
Gina had learned to cope with it all, the anger, the fear, the questions. It was rare that anything fazed her but she had to admit that her nerves were jangling as she approached the end bay. Marco still had his eyes closed and didn’t seem aware of her presence as she stood beside the bed, looking down at him. He had always been an extremely handsome man and nothing had changed in that respect. His body looked as lean and fit as ever beneath the thin hospital gown, his skin glowed with good health, his dark hair was lustrous and thick. Only the few strands of grey at his temples proved that time had passed, but even they did little to detract from his appeal.
Gina felt her stomach muscles clench as a wave of awareness rushed through her. Despite everything Marco had said and done three years ago, despite how much he had hurt her, she was still attracted to him!
Marco could feel the blood pounding inside his skull. He knew it was a result of the accident because the ED consultant had explained it to him. When the car he had been travelling in had collided with a lorry that had pulled out in front of them, he had hit his head and suffered a concussion. That accounted for the headache but did it really explain why he couldn’t remember who he was or where he’d been going?
He opened his eyes, gripping hold of the rails at the sides of the bed when the room swam sickeningly. Taking a deep breath, he forced the nausea to subside and focused on his surroundings. White walls, blue curtains, a familiar smell of antiseptic, which all added up to his being in hospital. He knew where he was. He also knew that it was somewhere he was used to being, too.
Marco frowned as he tried to make sense of that idea. Had he been ill recently, so ill that he had needed a prolonged stay in hospital? He didn’t think so. Apart from the headache, he felt quite well, not like someone who was recovering from an illness. So if he hadn’t been a patient, had he worked in a hospital in some capacity?
That idea seemed much more fitting. He closed his eyes again as he let it seep into his consciousness. He worked in a hospital? Yes, that was right. He knew instinctively it was true. And yet there was something odd about being here, something not related to the fact that normally he wouldn’t be lying in bed …
It was the voices, he realised with a start. Or, more accurately, the fact that they were speaking English. Although he understood what was being said, he knew that English wasn’t his first language. What was?
‘Dr Andretti. Can you hear me?’
Marco’s eyes shot open when a quiet voice spoke beside him. Turning his head, he saw a nurse standing beside the bed. She was small and blonde, her hair caught back at the nape of her neck with a dark blue ribbon that matched the blue of her uniform. Marco felt something stir inside him, something that felt almost like recognition. He had the strangest feeling that he had seen her before, but before he could work out where, she spoke again.
‘How do you feel?’
Her voice was soft, husky, and Marco felt a ripple of awareness run through him. The low, sweet tone of her voice was oddly soothing as it flowed along his taut nerves. For the first time since he had regained consciousness in the back of the ambulance he didn’t feel afraid.
‘I am not sure.’ His own voice sounded rough and he paused while he tried to work some moisture into his mouth. The nurse must have realised his dilemma because she reached for the jug and filled a glass with water. Bending, she slid her hand beneath his head and raised it a fraction while she held the glass to his lips.
‘Take a sip of this,’ she instructed, tilting the glass so that a trickle of cool water slid between his lips.
Marco swallowed greedily, frowning when she took the glass away, and she smiled faintly, her grey eyes filled with understanding. ‘You’ll be sick if you drink too much. You can have another sip in a moment.’
She gently removed her hand and he felt a wave of disappointment wash over him that owed nothing to the fact that he’d been deprived of the water. Why should it have felt so good to have her touch him like that? he wondered. And why did he want her to touch him again?
He watched as she placed the glass on the bedside cabinet, studying the gentle curve of her cheek, the sweeping length of her lashes, the upward tilt of her small nose. She was extremely pretty in a very English way with that fine, pale skin and those delicate features. Everything about her was refined, feminine, and he found it very appealing. He realised with a start that he was attracted to her, even though she was very different in appearance from Francesca.
The
