Chapter Twenty-Six
Friday, 24 th November
‘You’re joking.’ Rico gave the doctor his best stony glare, but the man shook his head.
‘I’m sorry. I know you want to get back to work. But I’m signing you off for another week, Rico. You need a few more days before you’ll be well enough to start working, and if you take my advice, you’ll stay here in Lugano.’
Rico eased his sweatshirt over his head and wilted back into his chair. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he’d suspected that Dad’s doctor might not be impressed by his continuing pain on exertion, and to be honest, the mere thought of climbing the stairs up to the flat at Lakeside at the times the electricity was off was enough to exhaust him.
Doctor Grasso handed over the sick note, and Rico almost laughed. Who was he supposed to give this to, given that he was the boss?
‘I’ll see you next Thursday, and we’ll do another X-ray. I’m sure you’ll be much improved by then.’
Left to make his own way out, Rico took the lift down and emerged into a sunny November morning. The medical centre was a few streets back from Lake Lugano at the south end of town, and he wandered down to the water. This was another area where you could stand in one country and look into another. Across this arm of Lake Lugano was Italy, although the wooded Italian hills over there were no different to the Swiss hills on this side. And oh, to be standing on the banks of Lake Constance and looking across to Germany and Austria, then going home to Lakeside and Stacy. Now he had to tell her his arrival was delayed. He came to a bench, and sat down to message her.
Been signed off another week. New ETA next Friday. Bummer.
His phone rang when he was almost back at Ralph’s flat. As usual, Stacy the nurse didn’t mince her words.
‘Are you still having problems, then?’
‘Not really. Still a bit of pain, and it doesn’t take much before I’m bushed. But sitting around here won’t help.’
‘Oh yes, it will. You have to take it easy, and increase your activity slowly. You’ll get there in the end. It needs time, that’s all.’
She wasn’t worried about him; he could tell by her voice. He was trying not to feel too pleased to be talking to her about something personal when she changed the subject.
‘By the way, the estimate for the plumbing for an outside tub was three times what it actually cost. Maybe we can think about a stair lift to the cellar too, for the re-opening? It would be better than sending wheelchairs round the outside of the house in the winter.’
‘Sounds good. Ask Andi to get an estimate for one, and send it to Martin.’
‘Martin’s been poorly this week. I haven’t heard from him today yet, so here’s hoping he’s better.’
Rico mumbled an agreement and rang off before he started howling. Hell on earth. ‘Haven’t heard from him today yet’ sounded as if Martin and Stacy were in pretty regular contact, didn’t it? Rico wilted for the second time that morning. Martin being poorly was causing Stacy a lot more concern than his aching ribs. That was telling him something – and it was nothing he wanted to hear.
***
‘Stacy! There’s someone for you in reception!’
The voice came from the front hall, and Stacy hurried through from the restaurant, where she’d been going over the weekend menu with Peter, the restaurant manager. It wasn’t a hard job, because the food they were serving during the renovation was pretty basic, though that would change in January when they opened as a spa hotel. For now, though, they were using what Peter called a modified menu, and so far, no one had complained.
A woman was standing by the desk holding a small bundle wrapped in thick green florist’s paper.
‘Stacy Townsend?’ She stumbled over the name, then continued. ‘Delivery for you.’
Stacy didn’t understand the last part, but the meaning was clear when the woman pressed the bundle into her hand and produced a delivery sheet for her to sign before bidding her goodbye. Wow – more flowers. Were these from Martin too? But they must be, no one else would be sending her flowers. Stacy eased the brown paper off, and oh, how lovely. It was a bunch of tiny rosebuds, and where on earth had these come from at this time of year? She opened the accompanying card.
Sorry about Wednesday. Here’s to the next time! Martin xxx
Stacy buried her nose in the little bouquet. The perfume was subtle, but gorgeous, and these must have cost him a small fortune. She would phone and thank him the moment she had these in water. Or no – a message would be better. If he was still poorly, he might be asleep. She risked the lift going up – she had her phone, and there were plenty of people in the building today – and tapped as she went up.
Gorgeous roses, thank you so much. Hope you’re feeling better today? xxx
It seemed only fair to give the same number of kisses back, though usually she was a one-kiss person on texts.
She was glad she hadn’t phoned, because it was over two hours later before Martin’s reply pinged into her phone.
Glad you like them. Still a bit meh. Hope renovation’s going well. Enjoy your weekend. xxx
Stacy waited until the workmen had left to have lunch, then sent:
Get better soon!
along with a photo of the large spa room, which was looking more and more like a spa room and not a building site. It was amazing the difference some tiles on the wall made.
And somehow or other, that was enough to start an ongoing conversation by message. Martin sent several texts over the course of the afternoon, and Stacy found herself smiling every time her phone pinged. This was almost as good as a date; they could have fun and get to know each other this way too. The messages continued until the evening, when Stacy switched her phone off while she was visiting Kim and Tobias and the boys. Dinner was served in the kitchen, so Tobias must be on board with the dining room being converted into a working space for Kim, who was looking much happier tonight. So it was all good there, and Stacy walked home through frosty streets after a happy evening. Back in the flat, she switched on her phone, expecting to see another message from Martin.
Nothing. Oh, well, if he had a bug, he might be having an early night. They would catch up in the morning.
***
It was lunchtime the following day before she heard from Martin again. Stacy was organising the fridge, which still contained several things only Rico ate – like liver sausage – that had an ‘eat before’ date, so she needed to get rid of them before they started stinking the flat out. Monday was bin day, so they wouldn’t be in the hotel’s rubbish container too long. She was wiping the shelves down when her phone pinged, and her heart rate crept up a notch.
It wasn’t what she’d expected – or wanted.
Seem to have flu. Parents coming to take me back to Lucerne to recover – wish me luck! xxx
Oh no – he must be bad to let his parents take charge like that. Stacy’s thumbs flew over her phone:
All the luck heading your way. Send pics of Lucerne when you’re better xxx
His reply was a thumbs-up and a kissy smilie. Oh dear – poor Martin. He must be feeling really rough, because he wasn’t the kind of person who communicated with emojis.
The next message that pinged into her phone a few minutes later was from Rico.
Forgot to ask what’s happening about the towels?
Stacy blinked at her phone. And there you had the difference between the two men in her life. Rico, her friend and boss, polite and business-like, and Martin, her poor afflicted potential boyfriend, suffering but still messaging. And that should be telling her something, shouldn’t it?