The doctors choice

by Wilde, Hilary

  And suddenly her face burned as if it was on fire and she was sick with shame and anger. Shame because she had not altered — because she had not learned her lesson. Angry because she had made the same mistake twice. She was still jumping to conclusions. As with Peter, it was wishful thinking on her part and nothing more.

  Because she loved David, she was deliberately reading into his words the very things she wanted to be there. Not what he meant. He was sorry for. Maggie, that was all. He had meant nothing else.

  And suddenly she was afraid. If she had believed the unbelievable had she shown it in her eyes? Had he seen in them her wonder, her joy? Had he understood and been embarrassed?

  Only the night before he had warned her of the temptation of falling into the first pair of open arms she saw. He had not known what she did that she might also do what she had done with Peter, which was to force those arms open by her own wishful thinking.

  She was suddenly aware that two of the children were crying softly, that Rosie was looking at her worriedly.

  With an effort, Clare smiled. “Lead the way, Rosie.

  Any hope of nice hot baths for everyone, then something to eat? Then I’ll tell you all a story. Right?”

  “Right!” the young voices piped together.

  They walked back to the house, Clare’s mind still whirling in crazy circles. As she looked round the shabby rooms she knew something. She would find happiness as Maggie had done — if David loved her.

  But it was a waste of time thinking about David. If he loved any woman at all, it was Gillian. Even if he did not know it himself.

  Max Cartin, the pilot, flew to fetch Clare the following day. She had been too busy to think about David because there had been so much to do, despite Rosie’s help. Children to bath and feed, to keep quiet. The primitive cooking conditions, the stifling hot kitchen without a window. The meal for Bill which he first refused and then enjoyed, cleaning up a plate of steak as if he was ravenous. And then a long bad night with Maggie as she reacted as David had feared she might.

  There had been delayed shock, a severe haemorrhage, but David had left an injection and other drugs with his instructions. In the morning, Maggie was much better and quite well enough to be left.

  Max Cartin was a lean quiet man with fair hair, a shy smile, and a tongue he rarely used. He told Clare the boy he had flown to Darwin had been operated on and was in a satisfactory condition, and then he fell into a friendly silence. He had brought with him a plump, white-haired New Australian — from Italy, as her olive skin and very dark eyes showed. She had taken to the “bambinos” at once and fussed over Maggie in a very friendly way.

  It was with mixed feelings that Clare said goodbye to everyone. She had grown fond of the small children, especially Rosie with her adult air and sweet young smile, and had grown closer to Maggie, finding they shared many interests.

  “When I’m back at Noorla, Maggie, we must talk on the galah session. I’ve never heard your name on it.”

  Maggie smiled. “I don’t often have time. Besides, we’ve only a rather ancient transceiver, worked by treadle. All the same, it would be fun, Clare.”

  Early, as the first dawn appeared, Clare and Bill had stood in the cool clear air and talked. Bill had told her how they had sunk all their savings in the farm, how heavily he had borrowed.

  “I hope I’m doing right,” he said worriedly. “Maggie thinks so. I want the kids to grow up and have a better life than I did, but so far things haven’t turned out right. I did a bit of everything — farmed, worked on a mine, railway, got a job with a steamship company and transferred to London and met Maggie.”

  Sitting behind the thin silent back of Max Cartin, Clare knew that she envied Maggie, despite the horrors of that stifling kitchen, the flies, the struggle. Maggie had six healthy children and a man she loved.

  As she saw Baroona, far below, her heart seemed to skip a beat. Now she had to face David. How much had she revealed? Did he know she was in love with him?

  Would he think she had been caught on the rebound, as he had warned her she could be!

  Was it that? She was sure it was not. It had grown slowly. Admiration, respect in London. Friendliness at Noorla Homestead — but it was the long hours at the hospital, working or chatting together, that had shown her the real human David she loved.

  The plane touched down gently, and Joseph was there.

  “Everything all right?” Clare asked.

  “Doctor Johnson is away,” he told her. “Barbedee.

  Two small children, both very sick.”

  She shivered. Were they really sick? Or had David used it as an excuse to avoid being here when she returned? Had she embarrassed him? What would happen when, they met again?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CLARE did not see David again until late that night, as she sat in the hall, waiting in case any of the bells should ring. She had just taken a walk round the wards but everyone, including Mrs. Mackenzie, was asleep, and now she sat alone, depressed and unhappy.

  It was quiet with the night stillness that could be so frightening. Somewhere a dog howled. And David walked in. She had known he was back from the sick children, but there had been no sign of him when she reported to Sister Madge for duty.

  “Hi, Clare!” he said. “How was Maggie?”

  He came in and straddled a chair, his voice casual, the same friendly voice it always was.

  Her hands were trembling, but she clasped them tightly, keeping her voice as casual. “I had a bad time in the night. You remember you said you—”

  Briefly and concisely she described Maggie’s condition and what she had done.

  “She was better, and very cheerful when I left. That Mrs. Pirandello seems .a nice woman. How kind it was of her,” Clare finished.

  David laughed. “These new Australians work like anything. They’re the real working types, saving every penny, living economically. She was glad of the job.”

  “But can Bill afford—” Clare began worriedly.

  “Of course not. I fixed it,” David said. He opened the records book.

  “You paid for it?”

  David looked up. “Bill doesn’t-know, of course.

  Proud as can be. He thinks he’s helping Mrs. Pirandello by giving her a home for a few weeks.”

  “Oh, David, how very good of you!” Clare said, her eyes bright.

  He frowned. “It isn’t. I can well afford it. If I was poor, then it would be good of me. Besides, I’m fond of Maggie, and it’s her health I’m thinking of. You know, Clare” — he was still frowning, his thick, marked eyebrows drawn together as he looked at her — “I know you’re very young, but must you be quite so naïve?”

  She stared at him. “I’m naive?”

  “Yes, you exaggerate shockingly. Your whole attitude to this way of living is grossly exaggerated. You see it as something romantic, but it isn’t in the least.

  We’re merely doing a practical job that someone has to do.”

  He paused while she fought the tears that were suddenly near. What had she expected? Certainly not a lecture on being naïve!

  “Your whole attitude towards life is the same,” he continued. “You over-elaborate. You think doctors are supermen, something out of this world, as Marge would say — but doctors are human, you know. Very human. By the way, I gather from Hazel that you think doctors’ wives have a tough life.”

  He sounded annoyed, impatient with her. She stared at him. Hazel! How ironically comic! She had nearly told Hazel that she would love to be a doctor’s wife, but had carefully avoided doing so because she was afraid Hazel might talk and David get to hear and think she wanted to marry him! And instead, her words had come back to her, just like an Australian boomerang!

  She lifted her chin and looked at him, her courage helping her overcome the tears she had thought she must shed.

  “Well, it is a tough life.” Her voice was cool. “But then most wives have a tough life one way or another.

  My mo
ther, now. Dad is crazy about his work, and she not only helped him at the factory but at night he talked about it all the time. That was tough. Maggie has a touch life — you told me that. I don’t think a doctor’s wife has any worse a time than other wives.”

  “I see.” David looked a bit startled. “And you, Clare. How would you ‘like to be a doctor’s wife?”

  She stared at him. What was she supposed to say to that? “Yes, I’d love to”, and promptly leap into his arms?

  She tried to keep her voice impersonal. “You forget, David, I was going to be a doctor’s wife. Does that answer your question?”

  He began to speak and paused, looked at his watch.

  “I must go. I promised to play a game of chess with Matron. She’s much better, but can’t sleep. Says she’s not used to being in bed all day long and sleeps at the wrong time.”

  He stood by the open door and looked at her. Now it was his voice that was cool and impersonal.

  “By the way, Clare, I’ll be flying you back to Noorla tomorrow. Our relief Sister is arriving in the morning. I managed to get one sooner than I expected.”

  After he had gone, she stood there for a long time, feeling very cold, more cold and desolate than she had ever felt before. This was how she had felt when Peter told her he did not love her, would not marry her. Only this was a thousand times worse… .

  At the last moment, it was decided that Max should fly her back to Noorla Station. David could not get away, he said. The new Sister arrived a few hours before Clare left. A tall angular woman in her middle forties, she was very crisp and sure of herself, eyeing Sister Madge warily, being condescendingly kind to Clare. There had been farewells to make. And finally David had come out of the delivery room, face running with sweat.

  “Sorry I can’t get up to see them, Clare. Give them my love.” He lowered his voice as he looked at the door through which he had just come. “Rupture of the uterus, I’m afraid. Mrs. Spaniak is a New Australian and she tells me she always has a complicated delivery, so-I can’t leave her.” His eyes suddenly narrowed.

  “You understand?”

  “Yes, I understand,” she had said.

  Now, sitting in the plane behind Max, she thought she understood only too well. He must have — at Maggie’s — recognized in her eyes the love she felt for him. It had embarrassed him — perhaps even scared him. Her cheeks burned as she imagined him saying: “We must isolate the patient completely, and remove her from danger of contact with the source of infection, and only then may we hope for a good prog-nosis of her condition.”

  David was so good at diagnosing and prescribing for emotional disorders. Look at his shock treatment —telling her that Peter was married, so it was a waste of time moping about him. It had hurt — yet it had healed her. Helped her see her love for Peter in the right perspective. As an experience which need never be completely forgotten because it had taught her something.

  But had it? Hadn’t she made the same mistake again, reading into a man’s eyes and voice something he did not mean? And now she had embarrassed David, and this would spoil the wonderful friendship that had grown up between them.

  She looked down at the ground so far below. A line of low mountains. A cluster of wild donkeys galloping.

  David had contrived to get rid of her. Of that she was sure. Why else had the new Sister turned up so quickly?

  It could only mean that as soon as he left Maggie’s he had telephoned the authorities and stressed his urgent need.

  That meant …

  “Oh!” she cried instinctively as the plane dropped over a pocket of heat.

  Max turned. “Sorry.”

  “Not your fault,” Clare assured him. “It just surprised me.”

  “Soon be there,” he told her.

  Not exactly a cheerful companion when you’re afraid to think. Now had it been Mike!

  But Mike could be a problem, top…

  “There it is,” Max shouted as the plane began to circle the homestead far below. Clare could see the tall water tanks, the green gardens. As Max dipped a wing she saw small figures racing out to wave their arms.

  And then they were approaching the airstrip and she saw the wind-sock blowing. The ground came closer …

  and then there was a gentle bump and they were lum-bering along the uneven ground just as the truck came racing up, braking violently to a halt, spilling out its contents. Aborigine men who came for the mail and any supplies; the children racing to greet her joyfully and, of course, Mike.

  “Uncle David?” Barry cried at once.

  “He couldn’t make it,” Clare said, holding the small boy close:

  He tugged at her white apron. “I hate this.” He looked up at her. “I hate it,” he said again.

  She wished she had thought of changing before she left Baroona; she had forgotten Barry’s hatred and fear of anything to do with the hospital.

  Max was stretching his long legs, talking to Mike.

  Marge jumped up and down. “Guess’ what, Clare.

  Barry’s pony’s come and he’s riding!”

  “How wonderful, Barry! Now I’ll have to work hard to catch up,” Clare told him.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, happy again as he smiled.

  “I’ll wait for you. I’ll always wait for you.”

  She rumpled his dark dusty hair, saw the affection in his dark blue eyes and repressed the desire to hug him.

  Barry might be afraid it would betray their secret.

  “What’s the pony’s -name?” she asked.

  “I waited to ask you. We thought Ranger, or Shandy, or Uncle Ian suggested Sparta.”

  “Sparta’s a wonderful name.”

  “Oh, goody!”. Barry said excitedly. “I hoped you’d choose it.”

  Mike came to greet Clare, his eyes dancing. “Welcome to Florence Nightingale! You look sort of crumpled, Nurse. What would Sister Madge say?”

  “What indeed!” Clare laughed.

  “I can’t wait to learn how the formidable lady dealt with you,” Mike said. He turned to Max. “Coming over for a drink?”

  “I’ve got to get back. Goodbye, Nurse Butler,” Max said formally.

  She shook his hand. “Thanks for flying me so nicely.

  I wasn’t scared once.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad.”

  “She’s terrified when I drive the truck,” Mike complained.. “How come you don’t scare her?”

  “Hi, Mike!” Max said slowly. “The doctor asked me to tell you that—”

  “

  Clare and the children walked to the truck. When she got into the cab, they began to follow her, but Mike had caught up.

  “Into the back, you kids,” he said. With one quick look at him, they obeyed.

  Mike turned to look at Clare as the truck bumped over the track to the road. “Thanks for the message, Clare. I got it all right.”

  “The message?”

  He nodded, smiling at her. “M’m. The bit about your love to everyone. I sure like the way Hazel paused before the word ‘everyone’. I certainly got the message.” He chuckled.

  She slapped a too familiar fly that was crawling over her nose. Mike would have to take it that way – and all she had been doing was hesitating over sending her love to Barry!

  “I didn’t mean anything special by it,” she said stiffly.

  Mike put back his head with the dusty red hair and laughed.

  “All right, play hard to get. We’ve all the time in the world. Suits me. I’ll enjoy the chase.”

  She looked at him and knew it was a waste of time to argue. She must just make him see by her behaviour that she was not interested in him romantically.

  Romantic.

  The word made her think of David and the way he had quickly banished her from Baroona, She lurched with the truck as they climbed off the sunken track to the main road. They drove the rest of the way in silence.

  Val was waiting, her face warm and welcoming.

  “I’m lo
nging to hear all the local gossip,” she smiled.

  “Come and fee Sparta,” Barry cried.

  “After she’s had a cup of tea,” Val promised.

  Sitting on the verandah, having showered and changed, Clare could say in all sincerity: “It’s good to be back, Val.”

  It was true, but she missed the challenge of the hospital – and David.

  “I thought David was flying you back,” Val said suddenly.

  “He was – but a last-minute complication came up.

  He sent his love,” Clare said, avoiding Val’s eyes.

  Sparta was a lovely sleek dark brown pony, and it was wonderful to see the shining radiance on Barry’s face as he put his arms round the pony’s neck.

  “Isn’t the the mostest, Clare? The absolute bestest?”

  Barry asked eagerly as she leant against the paddock rail.

  “He certainly is, Barry,” Clare said, smiling at Val by her side.

  They introduced her to Snowy, the amiable mare Ian had got for Clare.

  “Mike’s going to teach you,” Marge said.

  “Oh, he is?” Clare said, her voice flat with dismay.

  She looked at the girl. “Who taught Barry?”

  ‘I did,” Marge said proudly.

  “Then you can teach me,” Clare told her. “Mike is pretty busy, sleeping.”

  Val was grinning as they walked back to the homestead, and that evening, playing chess with Ian, he had a quiet chuckle, too.

  “A certain young gentleman had planned a lot of fun—” he said dryly.

  Clare looked at him. “I know. That’s why I changed his plans.”

  In the morning when Clare tried to avoid listening to the medical session, Barry insisted: “But I need you, Clare, to ‘splain what I don’t understand.”

  Clare sat tensely as David’s deep familiar voice came over the air. He dealt with all the ailments of the day and then greeted them.

  “Hi, Clare! I hear you had a smooth trip back. Hi, Barry! How’re things? Over.”