The Road to Hope

by Rachael Johns

  Lauren couldn’t hold back her laughter. This was why she loved these women. They said things straight, just how they were. No bullshit. No nonsense. Her mood, which had been dark since Saturday morning, began to lift.

  May nodded. ‘He was, it’s true.’

  Lauren looked down at Barbara’s fingers. ‘I’m making a right mess of this. If you don’t want yellow fingers as well as nails, you need to be quiet.’

  Nancy, who’d been silently rocking her baby doll in a recliner in the corner, now piped up. ‘That’s why I never married. Didn’t want any man treating me like a slave.’

  May and Barbara raised their eyebrows and looked at Lauren. She was glad Alf wasn’t around to hear this.

  ‘I can’t imagine anyone treating you like a slave, Nancy,’ Lauren said. If anything, Alf treated her more like a princess, and was always beating himself up about not being able to care for her on his own anymore.

  Nancy stared at Lauren as if she didn’t know what she meant, then looked back to her doll and started humming Away in a Manger as she retreated back into her own little world. Lauren wasn’t sure who she felt more sorry for: Nancy, who was still physically fit and healthy but had lost her marbles, or the other residents, who were sharp as pins up top but struggled with physical ailments. Either way, old age was a curse, which was why she did her best to make her patients’ lives as enjoyable as possible.

  ‘What colour do you want today?’ she asked May, trying to lighten the mood again as she continued Barbara’s manicure.

  ‘Hmm.’ May thought a moment. ‘What about lots of different colours? Like a rainbow?’

  ‘I like that idea.’ Lord knew they could all use something bright and cheerful in their lives.

  In between helping Ned go to the bathroom and serving afternoon tea, Lauren finished the manicures. She tried to focus on the task and listen to the crazy conversations between May and Barbara, but frequently found her gaze lifting to the clock on the wall above the fireplace. She wondered whether Tom would still be hiding away in his room when she got home or if he’d have started dinner.

  Then, five minutes before her shift ended, he strolled down the corridor to the residents’ section. He said ‘hi’ to the women and nodded briefly at her on his way to the games cupboard, where he retrieved a pack of cards before heading for Ned’s room.

  If Lauren had any doubt that he was avoiding her before, she could no longer deny it. His inability to look into her eyes, or utter even a hello, felt like a slap in the face.

  But it was her heart where she felt the pain.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘Whitney O’Donnell?’ Tom stood at the door to the waiting room as he called up his next patient, who just happened to be Lauren’s best friend. Lauren, who he’d barely spoken to since their deep and meaningful conversation on Friday night.

  ‘Hi Tom.’ Whitney beamed at him as she leapt from her plastic chair and followed him down the hallway into the consultation room. He gestured for her to sit in the chair next to his desk and she propped her bag on her knees, cuddling it to her as if for support.

  He sat and leaned back in his chair. ‘What can I do for you, today, Ms O’Donnell?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Please, call me Whitney.’

  ‘Whitney,’ he said through clenched teeth. He should have taken Dr Bates’ advice and kept his distance from everyone. There was nowhere to hide in a small town once you’d blurred those lines. ‘Is this a general check-up? Or is there something specific I can help you with?’

  She hesitated a moment. ‘Well,’ she said eventually, ‘I want to have a baby.’

  He nodded, not surprised.

  ‘And it doesn’t seem to be happening like I thought it would.’ She glanced down into her lap as if embarrassed by this confession.

  ‘How long have you been trying?’

  ‘Almost ten months. I know that’s not very long,’ she rushed to assure him, ‘but I’m not thirty yet, and neither is Rats. I’m eating right, charting my ovulation… I swear we’re doing it at the right time. We’re at it like rabbits most of the time, but…nothing.’

  Sensing tears were close, he reached for the tissue box and offered it to her.

  ‘Thanks.’ She took one, blew her nose, wiped her eyes and then looked back to him. ‘Am I being impatient?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he reassured her. ‘Fertility doctors usually want people to try for a year before they investigate, but most I know are also human. They understand that when you desperately want a child, twelve months can seem like forever.’

  ‘Lauren said you had a friend who might be able to help?’

  He didn’t want to talk about Lauren. ‘I can refer you to someone, but I’ll need to get a few details first. Okay?’

  ‘Sure.’

  He bit the lid off his pen and opened his notebook. ‘Are your cycles regular?’

  ‘Like clockwork.’ She dug a little book out of her bag, opened it and placed it on his desk for perusal. ‘See, I’ve written all the dates down here.’

  ‘Right, good. And how long do you typically bleed for?’

  ‘About five days. Is that normal?’

  ‘Yes.’ He jotted that down. ‘And is it light, heavy? Do you get much cramping?’

  She shrugged. ‘Not really. Occasionally I have to take a couple of painkillers, but what girl doesn’t?’

  Whitney happily answered all the questions relating to her health, and then came the awkward ones.

  ‘What about your husband? Jordan’s his name, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ She went slightly pale. ‘Do you think there could be something wrong with him?’

  ‘I don’t know, but we’ll need to check both of you. Does Jordan ever experience any problems during intercourse?’

  Whitney’s eyes widened. ‘Like what?’

  ‘No impotence or ejaculation issues?’

  She snorted. ‘Rats could go all night if I let him.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Tom glanced down at his paper as he jotted down some notes—the thought of going all night with Lauren intruding on his professional thoughts. Sleeping had almost been impossible these last couple of nights, his body all too aware of her only a few metres away in another room.

  ‘So what happens now?’

  Forcing thoughts of Lauren aside, Tom put his pen down and levelled with Whitney. ‘I’ll give you a referral to Dr Nado at St John of God Subiaco. But I warn you, it might be a long process and it’s likely you won’t get an appointment until February or even March. And that’s a good scenario. In the public system it’d be as long as eighteen months.’

  She nodded, her lips pursed.

  ‘However, if you ever need someone to talk to about your concerns, you can always come to me. I’ll be here another month and after that Dr Bates can answer any questions.’

  ‘Thanks Tom.’ She pushed the tissues back towards him. ‘I can see why Lauren likes you so much.’

  He could barely manage to see her out, her parting words replaying in his head like a broken record of a song he despised. What had Lauren told Whitney? He didn’t want her to like him. Well, yes, he did, but that wasn’t the point. Maybe he should think about moving into one of the hospital’s residential rooms. According to the agency nurses who stayed there, the rooms were sparsely furnished and dismally decorated, but they would have to do. If he hadn’t known Frank, he’d have gone there from the beginning.

  It’s where he should have gone.

  Lauren scrolled through Facebook on her phone as she waited at About Coffee Time for Whitney and Ellie. After their conversation at the Lake Street party, she felt more relaxed at the prospect of coffee and cake with Flynn’s wife, but wished they would hurry up. She was going insane from living with a man who refused to talk to her. And while her elderly friends could make her laugh, she craved the company of people her own age.

  Ten minutes after she’d secured a table, her phone beeped, signalling a message from Whitney. Sorry, got held up at
doctor’s surgery. Coming now. Ellie cancelled.

  She felt bizarrely disappointed about the latter part of this message, but since she knew Whitney’s standard order, she went to the counter and ordered for both of them. Whitney arrived at the same time as Sherry brought over their drinks.

  Her friend slipped into a seat, her grin stretching from ear to ear.

  Lauren eyed her warily. ‘Did you win Lotto or something?’

  Whitney shook her head.

  ‘Oh my God, you’re pregnant!’ Lauren slammed her hand over her mouth, both delighted and more than a tad jealous at the prospect.

  ‘Not yet, but I’ve just come from a very positive appointment with your man.’

  Lauren ignored the reference to ‘her man’. ‘And? Did he give you a referral?’

  ‘Yes, he’s wonderful. I can see why you’ve fallen for him.’

  ‘Shh.’ She thrust her finger over her lips and glanced around the room, hoping no one had overheard.

  ‘He was so nice. I didn’t even feel awkward when he asked me intimate details about our sex life. And at the end, he told me I could come and talk to him whenever I wanted. If I had any more concerns or questions before we got to see the specialist, he said I could ask him.’

  So it was only Lauren he didn’t want to talk to. ‘That’s great,’ she said, trying to fake enthusiasm. She was happy for Whitney. She just wished Tom would be so willing to talk to her.

  ‘Yes. I feel so much better knowing we’re doing something about it, you know?’

  Lauren nodded, thinking of her own situation. Maybe she should do something about it. She could walk around the house naked—that might get his attention. Or maybe she should make an appointment at the surgery herself. She could just imagine his face if she landed in his consultation chair. It might be awkward but hey, at least he could charge Medicare for the hassle of talking to her.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Whitney asked, and Lauren realised she’d been giggling at the notion. At least she hadn’t lost her sense of humour.

  ‘Nothing, just thinking of something one of my patients said the other day.’

  Whitney didn’t pursue it, and they spent another hour talking about local goings-on and Whitney’s Christmas plans—it was only a week away. Hearing about what Whitney planned to cook was a pleasant diversion from Lauren’s thoughts of Tom. But then it was time to get ready for her afternoon shift, and all the good work vanished as her heart leapt with the possibility that this would be the day that he deigned to talk to her again.

  The house was quiet when Tom came home from the surgery that evening. Lauren was on the afternoon shift at the hospital from two o’clock till late and so wouldn’t be back for a few more hours. Taking the opportunity to pack his few possessions while she wasn’t there, he was halfway through the task when his mobile rang. He eyed it where it sat on his bedside table.

  A marketing call or someone begging him to donate to charity would be preferable to his family or the hospital calling him in to deal with an emergency. He crossed the room slowly and glanced warily down at the caller ID: the hospital. Something shot through him at the thought it might be Lauren—whether a chill or a thrill he couldn’t tell.

  He sucked in air and pressed Accept. ‘Evening, Dr Lewis.’

  ‘Hi, it’s me.’ An awkward silence followed as he waited for her to tell him why she was calling. ‘I’m worried about Alf.’

  ‘Why? What’s wrong?’ He sat down on his bed.

  ‘Did you see him on your rounds this morning?’

  He thought back. He’d been distracted and in a hurry and only checked in on Mrs Q, whom he’d discharged. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘He didn’t come for dinner with Nancy and he’s not here now to read to her. I tried calling him but he’s not answering his home phone.’

  ‘Have you tried his kids?’

  ‘Of course I have. I can’t get them either. Look, I’d go over to his place myself but I’m not finished here for another couple of hours. He likes and trusts you, so I was wondering if you could go and have a look around?’

  ‘Maybe you should call the cops.’ Despite saying this he was already reaching down to his boots and thrusting his feet inside.

  She sighed angrily. ‘Look if you don’t want to help, that’s fine.’

  He blinked when he realised she’d disconnected the phone. I’m on my way now, he typed into a message to her mobile. What’s the address? Will call you as soon as I have news.

  Thank you, came her reply a few moments later, along with the number of a house on Rawlins Street.

  Five minutes later Tom pulled his ute up in front of an immaculately kept cottage. The street lamp out the front lit up a section of garden, highlighting beautiful spring flowers and a number of neat rose beds. A cobbled path started at the front gate and led right to the front door. As Tom pushed open the gate a security light beamed down on him, but this was the only light coming from the vicinity of the house. He should have thought to bring a torch.

  Halfway up the path, he almost wet his pants as something launched itself at him from under a bush. He cursed, but placed a calming hand on his chest when he realised it was only a cat. Waiting for his heart to stop racing, he stooped down and reached out his hand. ‘You must be Ginger.’

  The overweight feline went straight for his legs, rubbing himself affectionately around Tom’s ankles in figure eights. Its meows grew louder and more persistent and he wondered if it was trying to tell him something. Or maybe it was just hungry. Either way, it wasn’t a good sign; the way Alf spoke about this cat, he treated it like a baby, so if it was outside at this time of night, something was wrong.

  He continued up the path, careful not to trip as Ginger continued his affectionate introduction. He leapt the two steps onto the verandah and glanced sideways, taking in the two rocking chairs in the path of the streetlight. Each had its own comfy cushions and crocheted blanket. Tom could picture Alf and Nancy sitting out here of an evening before she’d declined so much that she could no longer live at home. Shaking that despondent thought, he crossed to the door and banged loudly using the cast-iron knocker.

  ‘Alf! It’s Dr Lewis. Are you in there?’

  Ginger meowed in response.

  ‘Shh.’ He shook the cat off his leg and peered in the closest window. Although the curtains were open a fraction, the room inside was pitch black and he couldn’t see a thing. ‘Dammit.’

  He tried the doorknob. Yes. He’d been shocked when he heard that most people in Hope Junction still left their doors and windows unlocked, but in this case he was thankful. Taking a breath and preparing himself for the worst, Tom pushed the door open. Ginger darted in ahead of him and he followed the cat through the house, flicking on lights and glancing around him as he went. It was only a two bedroom cottage, so it didn’t take long for him to emerge into the kitchen where Ginger went immediately to his food bowls, ignoring the fact that his owner lay prostrate on the floor.

  ‘Shit. Alf.’ After a quick glance around Tom dropped to his knees and immediately went into assessment mode. The stench of piss was overwhelming, but Tom only cared about his vital signs. He shook him lightly and called his name in an effort to rouse him, then checked his airway. He let out the breath he’d been holding when he noted Alf’s regular breathing and felt his pulse steady at his wrist. All but ruling out a heart attack, Tom glanced down the old man’s body and noticed that his arm didn’t look quite right. Due to Alf’s age and the fact he’d likely been lying here since that morning, he yanked his mobile out of his pocket and dialled triple zero to request a priority one ambulance.

  With Ginger munching dried cat biscuits in the background, Tom continued his efforts to wake Alf. When he laid a cold cloth on his forehead, the old man finally opened his eyes. He looked up, his expression dazed and confused, before trying unsuccessfully to lift his head.

  ‘It’s all right, Alf. It’s Dr Lewis. Stay where you are.’ Tom put his hand on his shoulder, then g
rabbed a cushion from a kitchen chair and gently slipped it under his head. ‘Did you have a fall, mate?’

  Alf frowned, then groaned. ‘My arm. Feels like it’s been severed.’

  Tom took a closer look. ‘It’s okay. It’s definitely still attached, but my guess is you’ve broken it. Do you remember what happened?’

  Alf took a few moments to think. Tom didn’t press him. Then, ‘I’d just let Ginger out the back door and was on my way to the loo… Next thing I knew I was kissing the kitchen floor.’

  Tom chuckled, Alf’s attempt at humour reassuring him that he wasn’t too badly injured.

  ‘Damn legs.’ Alf cursed. ‘They seem to stumble on nothing these days.’

  ‘Is this not the first time you’ve fallen, then?’

  ‘No. But it’s the first time I haven’t been able to get back up. What a good for nothing dill. I’m no use to Nancy on the floor.’

  ‘We’ll get you off the floor,’ Tom promised, swallowing the annoying lump in his throat that swelled at Alf’s words about his wife. He was a doctor; he wasn’t supposed to get emotional in situations like this. Still, this only made his resolve stronger. Dementia, Alzheimer’s—whatever name they gave it—affected loved ones almost more than it did the actual patients. Nancy probably hadn’t even noticed Alf’s absence that day, yet she was all he could think about.

  ‘I won’t be in the hospital long, will I?’ Panic seared Alf’s voice.

  Tom didn’t want to lie. ‘We’ll have to send you to Katanning for x-rays and to get that arm set tonight, but we’re also going to have to discuss care arrangements for the next month or so.’

  ‘I don’t need anyone to look after me,’ Alf grumbled. ‘I need to look after Nancy.’

  ‘If you have to spend a few days in hospital, we’ll put you up in the room next to her.’

  Tom expected this to placate Alf a little but it didn’t. ‘What about Ginger? Who will look after him?’

  The cat, who’d finished whatever he’d found in his bowl, was now sitting on the table looking down at them as he cleaned his face with his paws.

  ‘Don’t worry about the cat. I’ll look after him,’ he found himself promising.