The Artisan Heart

by Dean Mayes

  His gaze unfocused and he smiled, a strange smile, before folding both maps and returning them to the envelope.

  There were still a few hours before he had to report in at the police station. He should probably check his four-wheel drive in the garage. He had been assured it had fuel and still started, but Mitch knew to doublecheck it. He scanned the kitchen and through to the hall.

  Although the house was more spacious than the prison cell, somehow it felt no less claustrophobic. He considered the envelope again, and the control orders he knew were inside. He remained a prisoner, despite being out of jail.

  He grabbed up the canvas bag and made his way to the bedroom, where he tossed it onto the bed. He grimaced when it bounced on the mattress. The bed appeared as though it would barely support the bag, let alone his frame.

  He considered lying down, but decided against it as the urge for a smoke took over. Bending down, he unzipped the bag and fished out a packet of rolling tobacco and a lighter. Mitch swung the single rusted kitchen chair out onto the veranda and sat, rolling a cigarette. He leaned back as he drew in the blue smoke, gazing out across the small township. Across the rooftops of Erica, with their television antennas and satellite dishes, the view towards the mountains was largely unobstructed.

  He reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and took out a trio of photographs.

  They’d been given to him on the drive here from the prison.

  Fanning them out between his fingers, Mitch regarded each in turn. A quaint house. A woman walking through a small town, clutching a basket, followed by a child in bright yellow gumboots. The final image was the child in close-up, playing with a flop-eared dog—some sort of spaniel.

  Mitch loosened a half smile as he took another drag on the cigarette.

  Somewhere in those mountains, not very far away—

  Was her.

  THE LOUD ECHO OF A rhythmic “Shh-shh” sound reverberated off the walls of the bakery. Armed with a handheld sander, Hayden was crouched down on the floor, removing the last remnants of paint spatters. It was almost ready for the next step, and as Isabelle watched him, she leaned on the big floor machine, struggling to keep her eyes open. She had not long returned from her delivery run and sleep beckoned, but there was no way she was going to miss the opportunity to see the beauty of the long-neglected floorboards realised.

  Hayden approached the corner of room, taking care to ensure he hadn’t missed anything. He rose and motioned to Isabelle. “There,” he declared. “It’s ready.”

  Isabelle flicked a switch on the electrical socket behind her and Hayden examined the floor sander. When Isabelle turned back to him, she held up her hand. “Uh-uh, Doctor,” she remarked with mock forcefulness. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment for ages. Nobody gets to operate this baby except me.”

  “Pardon me,” Hayden quipped. “I wouldn’t think of denying you.”

  Isabelle licked her lips. Before he realised it, her hand had snatched the collar of his shirt, and she rose up onto her toes to kiss him eagerly. Hayden’s shoulders slackened at her touch.

  A steady, electronic tone suddenly sounded from the serving counter. Hayden and Isabelle looked over to the handheld UHF radio, which had belonged to Hayden’s father. Isabelle frowned as the tone sounded again, but Hayden didn’t appear surprised by the call as he went over to the device.

  He pressed a button on its side and cleared his throat. “Go ahead, Max.”

  “Hayden,” Max’s tinny voice returned over the speaker. “I’ve just taken a call from Rafter. They’ll be ready for you in half an hour.”

  Hayden became serious and he flicked a glance towards Isabelle. “Okay. You’re good to go up there?”

  “Yeah. We’re all set up.”

  Hayden clicked off and turned to Isabelle.

  “That sounds a bit serious,” she remarked, concerned. She stepped back from the floor sander.

  “There’s…ah, something I have to take care of,” Hayden replied. “It shouldn’t take long.”

  Isabelle was quiet for a moment. “Is this about her?”

  Hayden smiled. “No,” he said. “Something else entirely.”

  He approached Isabelle, noting how she held herself. He lowered his lips to hers, so softly that she surrendered and sighed.

  Hayden touched her arm. “I’ll explain it to you. It’s just—I need to take care of it first. Okay?”

  Isabelle hesitated, clearly still worried. “Okay.”

  MAX LED HAYDEN THROUGH TO the office at the general store and gestured to the laptop. “All yours, son. Good luck.”

  Hayden sat down, setting the thick folder he was carrying on the desk beside him. A videoconferencing window was already open on the screen. Max disappeared for a moment, returning with a mug of coffee, which he set next to Hayden. He flicked a thumbs-up sign.

  Hayden opened his folder and checked the documents inside as a ringtone emitted from the laptop speaker. He navigated to a green “answer” icon and clicked.

  The video feed flickered and Dr. Ainsley Rafter appeared. Though his camera was aimed at a point between his neck and chest, the feed seemed to be of decent quality.

  “Dr. Luschcombe, good morning,” Rafter greeted. He appeared distracted as he fumbled with his web camera.

  Hayden recognised the familiar table where Rafter was sitting. He was in the conference room in the emergency department, one Hayden knew from countless meetings.

  There was further fumbling and adjustment at the Adelaide end, then Rafter moved the webcam back, revealing four additional people in the room with him.

  Hayden felt an uncomfortable flutter in his stomach. In all his years of medicine, he’d never experienced anything like this. A disciplinary hearing. If anything, he’d been commended and praised, never chastised.

  Dr. Rafter adjusted himself, ensuring he had everyone in the frame. “Can you see everyone okay?”

  “Yes, I can,” Hayden said.

  Max bent down to Hayden’s ear. “Do you want me to step out?”

  “Perhaps that’s a good idea.”

  As Max turned to leave the room, Hayden felt a bristle of doubt. “Actually—”

  Max didn’t need him to finish. The older man drew up a chair as quietly as he could, keeping just out of view as Rafter began to speak.

  “Doctor, I’ll introduce the participants for this hearing,” he began, gesturing to his right at two individuals whose expressions hovered between distrust and distaste. “This is Rebecca Hickenbotham and Stephen Wetherall from HR here at the hospital.” He acknowledged a man sitting beside him, with whom Hayden was familiar. “And you know David Carthage, the Chief Executive.”

  Carthage, though appearing less unsettling than his counterparts, gave a singular nod.

  Rafter glanced to his left at a lone man who sat apart from the others and displayed a much more conciliatory posture. “And this is Dr. Guy Reece, your representative.”

  Dr. Reece leaned forward to the camera. “Good morning, Dr. Luschcombe,” he greeted, in a clear attempt to project empathy. “I am here on your behalf. Is there anything you need before we proceed?”

  Hayden attempted to find his voice, but couldn’t. His mouth had gone dry.

  Rafter continued. “Let’s push on, shall we? Hayden, we’ve convened this hearing to address the incident on the first of May, in which an altercation involving you and the father of a chi—”

  The female HR representative cut Rafter off. “Dr. Luschcombe,” she snapped. “It is alleged you caused the incident involving the father of a child who had been brought into the emergency department for assessment. I point to the supporting documentation, and also, the incident report completed by Dr. Rafter.”

  Hickenbotham was opening a manila folder and sifting through several documents. “You have copies of these documents?”

  “I do,” Hayden confirmed.

  Hickenbotham continued. “I also draw your attention to the hospital Code of Conduct, which appli
es to all employees of the hospital, regardless of their position within the organisation.”

  Hayden remained still. “I have it.”

  “It is alleged that on the first of May, you were the doctor on duty when the patient, as described in the incident report, was brought into the department. You were assigned the medical record and proceeded to examine the patient in cubicle three.”

  “Yes.”

  “And what was your initial assessment?” Hickenbotham pressed.

  Hayden hesitated over his documentation, deciding to leave it untouched. “The child presented with severe burns to the legs, genitals, and abdomen. Those burns terminated in a well-defined ring just above the umbilicus,” he explained. “I also noted random marks to the arms, indicative of a struggle. It was my assessment the scalds and marks were consistent with deliberate immersion in scalding water.”

  Hickenbotham turned towards her counterpart, Wetherall, who cleared his throat. “What drew you to make your assessment, Doctor?” he asked.

  “Upon questioning the mother and father of the child, I found there were inconsistencies in their accounts. The mother claimed she was the one who prepared the bath for the child but she could not tell me how hot the water was. When I asked the father where he was at the time of the incident, he told me he was away from the house. However, when pressed, he changed his account to say he was in fact outside the house, in the garden.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Well…” Hayden paused to collect himself. “Before I could question them further, the father lashed out. He struck me in the face and continued a sustained physical assault that threatened not only my safety, but the safety of the child and my colleagues.”

  “And how did you respond?” Hickenbotham levelled her glare at Hayden. He could sense she was waiting for him to falter.

  “I took all reasonable measures to prevent him from assaulting me, whilst ensuring the child was safely removed from the area of danger.”

  Hickenbotham peered over her glasses, holding up one of the documents from her pile. “We have a statement from the father saying it was you who assaulted him.”

  “No,” Hayden responded. “As I stated, I took all reasonable measures to prevent his assault, whilst ensuring the safety of the child and my colleagues, who I deemed to be in danger.”

  There was a pause as the two HR representatives conferred with one another in veiled whispers. Hayden watched them, feeling the flutter in his stomach morph into a nauseating wave. He acknowledged Max, whose own expression was grim.

  Hickenbotham spoke again. “Dr. Luschcombe. We are aware of certain…personal circumstances which may have been relevant at the time of this incident. Would you care to elaborate?”

  “No, I would not!” Hayden snapped.

  Rafter, surprised by this sudden question, held up his hand towards Hickenbotham. “I don’t believe this was canvassed in our preliminary discussions.”

  Hickenbotham persisted. “No, but we have subsequently been made aware of Dr. Luschcombe’s personal situation at the time of the incident. Therefore, we feel—”

  Now Hayden’s representative sat forward, interrupting her. Despite a brief faltering in the video quality, Hayden could see he was less than impressed.

  “Ms. Hickenbotham,” Dr. Reece said, annoyed. “This was never raised as an issue at the time of the incident. Nor was it raised at any time since. I insist that if you persist with this line of questioning, we should suspend these proceedings immediately.”

  Tension crackled in the Adelaide conference room. Reece challenged again. “Do you want to suspend these proceedings, Ms. Hickenbotham?”

  She glowered at Reece, as the hospital’s Chief Executive sat forward. “It is unfortunate this incident has attracted significant media coverage, mainly from the commercial networks who have an axe to grind. That was beyond our control. While we have yet to provide a detailed public response, I’m not sure we’ll be able to remain silent for much longer.”

  Hickenbotham studied her paperwork, stealing a glance at Wetherall, who remained quiet.

  Typical damage control measures, Hayden thought. What about the welfare of the child?

  Hickenbotham faced the webcam and pressed her glasses to her nose. “We are prepared to continue.”

  Hayden bit the inside of his cheek. “Can I ask about the child? Is the child all right?”

  Rafter responded. “The child is recovering, but it has been slow progress. I took over the case, Hayden. I assessed the child myself once the father had been removed.”

  Hayden stared at the screen—not at Rafter, but at Hickenbotham. “And what were your findings?”

  All heads in the conference room turned towards Rafter and even Max had wheeled his chair closer to Hayden.

  “I concurred with your initial assessment,” Rafter responded. “Child Protection Services were called in and they confirmed, on further questioning of the mother, the child had indeed sustained deliberate scalding burns. The couple were referred to police and formally charged.”

  Hayden slumped back in his seat and lowered his head.

  Wetherall began speaking now. “Individual witness statements were taken from those staff who were present at the time of the incident.” The HR representative shuffled through his own documentation, separating out three individual sheets of paper. “Their statements attest to the aggressive and confrontational nature of the father when he arrived in the department. There were two dissenting statements.”

  Hayden lifted his head and stared into the screen as Wetherall glared back. “Do you have anything you wish to add at this time, Dr. Luschcombe?”

  Hayden shook his head. “I have nothing to add.”

  “Based on the accounts of the father’s behaviour on arrival in the department, we are willing to concede the likelihood that he was the one who acted first. Further, that your actions were most likely proportionate in response.”

  Hayden only just managed to stifle a cough as he processed Wetherall’s last sentence. Wetherall continued. “However, we feel there remains a question mark over your conduct in this matter. While we’re prepared to adjourn these proceedings for now, Dr. Luschcombe, we reserve the right to revisit the incident, should new information come to light.”

  Max reached out and patted Hayden’s shoulder.

  Without waiting for Hayden to respond, both human resources representatives rose from the table and filed from view. Likewise, the Chief Executive stood and acknowledged Rafter and Reece, then hunched down to the camera. “I’ll be issuing a statement, Dr. Luschcombe. There’ll be no need for you to respond directly yourself.”

  Once the officials had left the room, Rafter leaned forward. “How are you feeling, Hayden?”

  “Not very good.” Hayden felt a pang of guilt as memories of the horrible incident resonated. “I am ashamed, for what happened. I could have handled things better. I don’t think they believe me.”

  “I doubt anyone could have handled the situation better,” Dr. Reece countered. “Even the most objective observer would argue that you had the interests of the child and your colleagues as your first consideration.” He paused. “You are a credit to this hospital, Dr. Luschcombe—and the profession.”

  With that, Reece stood and shook Rafter’s hand before disappearing from view.

  Rafter sat back down. “Look, Hayden. This will blow over. There’s nothing really that they can do beyond this. Between you and me, the father was a scumbag. He’s admitted to deliberately scalding the child. It’s all over the news here. No one is talking about your conduct outside of these walls.”

  Rafter cleared his throat into his closed fist and lowered his voice. “I am sorry about Bernadette.”

  Hayden felt a twinge of embarrassment and he squirmed in his seat.

  Rafter drew his webcam closer. “Look, I’ve taken a look at your leave quota from this end and there’s no need for you to hurry back if you don’t want to. You haven’t taken so much as a day
off in the last decade, not to mention you qualified for long service two years ago. Technically speaking, you could take the remainder of this year off and still have leave in the bank. I’ll email you with your entitlement details now. I’ve called in a favour or two from upstairs. We can survive without you for the time being.”

  Hayden didn’t know whether he should feel offended or grateful. Under the circumstances, he decided on the latter. “Thank you, Ainsley,” he said, his voice teetering on the edge of emotion. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Rafter clicked off at his end and the video screen went dark.

  “That all sounds open and shut to me,” Max offered, squeezing Hayden’s shoulder. “Rafter doesn’t doubt you. Those other people, they’re HR hacks. Bureaucrats. I certainly don’t doubt you.”

  Hayden exhaled. “Thank you, Max. Thank God that’s over.”

  Max stood and pushed his chair back. “Check your email, son, and come out back. I reckon I’ve got a beer in the fridge.”

  ~ Chapter 20 ~

  PULLING AT A CORD, ISABELLE RAISED THE BLIND COVERING THE SHOP WINDOW, ALLOWING MID-MORNING LIGHT to flood in through the glass panes. She took a moment to arrange the pretty curtains and leaned down to inspect the writing on the sign, which had been completed only a couple of days ago. Sunlight glittered through the trees as it cleared the top of the eastern hillside, bathing the thick layer of frost on the foliage in warmth, and causing steam to rise into the winter air.

  As Hayden signalled to Genevieve to turn on the two pendant lights above, Isabelle turned to face the shop and placed her hands on her hips.

  The warm cream of the freshly painted walls contrasted with the honey tones of the timber floorboards. Isabelle straightened a framed nineteenth-century photograph of the bakery that hung on the wall. Both ends of the L-shaped marble counter were bordered by an intricate, cast-iron edging replicating a grapevine. The glass display cabinet was ready to receive cakes and sweet goods. Behind the counter, high up on the wall, a large, framed menu board had been decorated with French-inspired chalk art by George Rillby.