The Doctor’s Special Touch

by Marion Lennox

  ‘No, I…’

  ‘Then smile again, or I’m not letting you in. Breakfast or not. This is a gorgeous morning and I refuse to let you spoil it.’ She glowered her best glower, and then she sighed as his smile didn’t return. He was looking as if he didn’t have a clue who or what she was.

  Well, maybe she had to face this some time. She’d asked for it. And turning away Jekyll and Hyde would be just plain cruel. ‘OK, forget the inquisition and bring in the bacon,’ she told him. ‘Or are you just dropping it off and running?’

  ‘I’m here to share.’

  ‘Then come in. But you have to be nice.’

  ‘Of course I’ll be nice.’

  ‘You don’t be nice by saying “You’re a doctor” as if you’re saying “You’re a particularly poisonous and unwashed scorpion”.’

  It didn’t produce so much as a glimmer of a smile. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I did,’ she said in some indignation. ‘In fact, in case you hadn’t noticed, I painted the fact in letters six feet high right next to the place you work. Dr Westruther. Bright blue paint. I seem to remember that you noticed.’

  ‘I didn’t mean…’

  Her glower deepened. She took the parcels from his arms and marched up the stairs without looking back. ‘Come on, guys,’ she said to Jekyll and Hyde. ‘Your master’s being thick. Come help me cook while we wait for him to come to his senses. I hope he’s brought some for you, too.’

  She didn’t speak to him again. She marched over to her cooker and busied herself hauling out pans and toaster and plates, then started to cook bacon-of which there was an entirely satisfactory amount. She was aware of him watching her in silence, as if he didn’t have a clue what she was.

  Great. She had him nicely off balance. That was how it should be, and long might it last. The fact that she was thoroughly disconcerted as well had to be ignored.

  ‘I looked at the Medical Board web-site,’ he told her at last. ‘At six this morning.’

  She focussed on her bacon. ‘Gee,’ she said dryly. ‘How fascinating. I thought about it. At six a.m. I remember thinking, Will I wake up and look on the Medical Board web-site? Or will I sleep for another couple of hours? Hard choice.’

  She knew he still wasn’t smiling. But there was no way she was looking.

  ‘You’re listed as a doctor.’

  She sighed. ‘How about that?’

  ‘You’re registered.’

  ‘Most doctors are.’

  ‘Your qualifications are on the site. When I found your name, I rang a friend who organises the internships from your university. He said not only did you do brilliantly at university, you’ve also done the first part of obstetric training. You passed with flying colours.’

  ‘My, you have been busy. Did your friend thank you for ringing him at six a.m.?’

  ‘Ally, will you look at me?’

  ‘I’m cooking bacon.’

  There was an exasperated sigh. ‘For heaven’s sake…’

  ‘For heaven’s sake what?’

  ‘If you’re a qualified doctor with brilliant obstetric training, what the hell are you doing in a dump like this?’

  Then she turned. She stood with her back to the stove and surveyed what he would be seeing. Her little apartment consisted of one room. The floor was bare linoleum, with a few cracks and holes. A mattress on the floor was her bed. She hadn’t pulled up the blankets. Unmade bed was bad, she thought ruefully. Never entertain visitors with an unmade bed. But, then, he had brought breakfast.

  What else? She had a folding table, one upright chair and one ancient squishy chair hauled over to the window so she could read in good light. There was a dingy little bathroom leading off at the back and that was all.

  Home.

  But this room was a means to an end. Eventually it’d be another massage area. If things worked out.

  Meanwhile… ‘Are you saying my apartment is a dump?’ she asked, her voice dangerous. ‘Or is it this town you’re describing? Either way you’re out of line.’

  He shook his head in disbelief. ‘What on earth have you done with your salary for the last six years? And why aren’t you practising as a doctor?’

  The dogs were nosing around her ankles. She bent and hugged them, buying herself time to consider.

  ‘I spend my money on wild living,’ she said at last. ‘And what I do is my choice.’

  ‘My friend, Steven, said you were top of your year. He said you’re one of the best doctors he ever trained. And there’s no blemish against you. No lawsuit.’

  ‘Oh, of course,’ she said cordially. ‘Go straight to the obvious. That I must have been drummed out of medicine with a lawsuit.’

  ‘I didn’t think that,’ he told her. ‘Last night Paul said you were the best doctor he’s ever seen. Marilyn owes her life to you.’

  ‘How is she?’ Ally was still hugging dogs but her voice was suddenly anxious. In truth, she’d hated leaving last night. It had been panic that had driven her away. She hadn’t been ready to face questions that she still wasn’t ready to face now. But Marilyn…

  ‘She’s good. No, she’s great. We’ve organised an air ambulance to take her to Melbourne at midday. Her daughter, Sue, is driving here now to accompany her. With the bypass surgery she’s finally agreed to, her prognosis is excellent. Thanks to you.’

  ‘G-good.’ She continued to concentrate on the dogs. ‘And Kevin?’

  ‘Kevin has a really bruised throat but he’ll survive. I have him on oxygen and sedatives. He’s going to take a lot of counselling.’

  ‘They all will.’ She hesitated but she needed to ask. ‘And the kids?’

  ‘I think Jody’s turned the corner. She sat up this morning and drank a little lemonade. And the other two are fine. I’ve let their mothers take them back to the refuge.’

  ‘Good.’ She faltered. ‘Great.’

  ‘The bacon’s burning.’

  She looked up at him then, her eyes meeting his. Locking.

  It was a strange moment. A harsh moment. The dogs were nuzzling her, investigating her jeans and her shoes, and her hands were fondling their ears. But she was caught. By Darcy. He was staring down at her as if he was seeing something he’d never seen before-and she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

  The bacon spat, a great hissing splat that had the dogs looking up in hopeful expectation of a rasher zooming downward. It broke the moment, but still… As she rose to attend to her cooking, he reached forward to turn the gas ring down and she brushed his body and…

  And nothing, she told herself fiercely. And nothing at all. How could brushing against someone cause something that was almost an electric jolt?

  This was ridiculous.

  ‘How many eggs?’ she asked, a trifle breathlessly, and somehow she regrouped and forced her voice into neutral. ‘I’m…I’m having two.’

  ‘Of course you are,’ he agreed, taking the egg container. Their fingers brushed. Damn, there it went again. That frisson of inexplicable sensation. ‘I’ll do that. You need to put the crumpets in the toaster.’

  ‘I know.’ She turned away with relief. What on earth was happening?

  Concentrate on breakfast.

  She waited until the crumpets popped up, buttered them, placed them on plates and turned to let him load them with eggs and bacon.

  Still that tension.

  ‘Did Jerry starve you?’ he asked curiously, and she gave him a reluctant smile.

  ‘Jerry hasn’t been in the position of being able to do anything to me for seventeen years.’

  ‘So you starve yourself?’

  ‘No,’ she told him.

  ‘Then why isn’t your fridge full?’

  ‘I have other things to do with my money.’

  ‘Other things than eat?’

  ‘Leave it alone.’ She took her plate and stalked across to the armchair by the window, and the dogs came to sit adoringly at her feet. ‘Ask your master for some, guys,’ she told them. She turned to t
heir master. ‘You can have the chair and the table.’

  ‘Gee, thanks.’

  ‘It’s the least I can do when someone brings me my breakfast.’ Then she addressed herself to her food, studiously not looking at him. She had no idea why he had the effect on her that he did. She didn’t understand and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to.

  Darcy loaded his own plate. He looked across at her for a long moment but she kept right on eating. Regardless. Finally he did, too.

  The silence continued. Then he set his plate aside. ‘Ally?’

  ‘Yes?’

  Mistake. She shouldn’t have given him an opening, she thought. But she had and he took it.

  ‘Ally, I need to know-’

  ‘You need to know nothing.’

  ‘You’re a qualified doctor.’

  ‘See, you know already.’

  ‘But I need-’

  ‘What?’ She flashed him an irritated glance. ‘What do you need?’

  ‘Help,’ he said flatly. ‘You know that. This place is impossible for one doctor.’

  ‘My grandfather managed it. You can manage it.’

  ‘The population around here is ten times what it was when your grandfather worked here. I can’t cope. People die because I can’t be everywhere at once.’

  She glared at that. ‘Don’t blackmail me.’

  ‘I’m not blackmailing you. But I need to understand-’

  ‘You don’t need to understand anything. I’m not a doctor.’

  ‘Then why are you paying registration fees?’

  Good question. She bit her lip. That was the final step, but until now…

  It wasn’t going to make a difference, she told herself miserably. She’d gone through it. She’d made her decision. Whatever she did could make no difference now.

  ‘Look, Darcy, breakfast was great,’ she told him. ‘But yesterday I had no business to interfere with Marilyn.’

  ‘You saved her life.’

  ‘Yeah, and it felt good,’ she admitted. ‘So I can’t say I’m sorry. But I don’t want any part of it. Not any more. I’m no longer a doctor.’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she said flatly.

  ‘Why on earth not?’

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘If I can just use you for back-up-’

  ‘You can’t.’ She shrugged. ‘This is stupid. I’m not a practising doctor any more. I’m a massage therapist. If someone stopped being a train driver and started being a florist, no one would ask them to do a little train driving on the side.’

  ‘In an emergency they would. If the train was stuck.’

  ‘Maybe for the first six months. When they still had the skills.’

  ‘You still have the skills.’

  ‘They’ll fade. I won’t keep them up.’ She took a deep breath. She’d made this decision and she had to see it to its logical conclusion. ‘Darcy, like it or not, I’m immovable on this. I’ve changed. I do a great massage. I can make people feel good. I love my new job.’

  ‘But there’s no need-’

  ‘For people to feel good? You’re telling me that the massage I gave to Lorraine last night wasn’t effective? And Gloria? No one’s touched her since her husband died. I bet she went to bed last night and slept like a baby. I love what I do, Darcy Rochester. It’s what I am. It’s who I am.’

  ‘You’re a doctor.’

  ‘I’m a masseuse.’

  ‘You’re hiding.’

  ‘And you’re not?’

  He paused. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘You’re not running from the tragedy of your wife’s death?’

  He stared. ‘What the hell…?’

  ‘You can’t run from the past.’

  There was a moment’s silence while he thought about that. ‘Is that why you came back here, then?’ His voice was almost a whisper. His tone was that of discovery. Like he’d discovered the truth. ‘You came back to face the past?’

  Ouch. It was so close to the truth that it made her flinch. But she wasn’t about to give this man the upper hand.

  ‘If I’m doing that then it’s more than you’re doing.’

  ‘You know nothing about it,’ he told her. ‘Rachel and I-’

  ‘I don’t need to hear.’

  ‘You do, you know,’ he told her, and his voice became even more gentle. ‘You accused me of running when nothing could be further from the truth. Rachel and I had a wonderful relationship. A wonderful marriage.’

  ‘I don’t-’

  ‘We met in high school,’ he told her, ignoring her interruption. ‘We were best of friends. We started med school together and then Rachel was diagnosed with leukaemia. We went through five years of treatment and remission and treatment and remission and finally we faced her death. Together.’

  ‘I’m…I’m sorry.’

  ‘But the thing is,’ he said, his voice suddenly relentless, ‘that I kept faith with our dream. We’d always wanted to practise in the country. Always. With Rachel’s illness it wasn’t possible, but we used to escape every chance we had and drive through remote little hamlets, figuring out where our ideal practise would be as soon as Rachel got better.’

  ‘I-’

  ‘But she didn’t get better,’ he told her, his voice flat, almost ruthless. ‘Six months after she died, though, I came back to the town we’d decided was the perfect place to work. Here. So how the hell you think I’m running away…’

  So much for a perfect day. She was feeling about three inches tall.

  ‘So I’m not hiding,’ he told her. ‘But you…’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You’re running from medicine.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Then why-?’

  ‘Leave it.’

  ‘I’m damned if I will. Not without a reason. Ally, this town doesn’t need a massage therapist. It’s desperate for a doctor.’

  ‘It has you.’

  ‘We could work together. There’s plenty of work for us both to make a living.’

  ‘Why would I want to work with you?’ she demanded in desperation. ‘You just keep shouting at me.’

  Silence. Stalemate. He was staring at her in baffled frustration.

  More silence.

  ‘You know, you won’t make a living,’ he said at last. ‘No one will come.’

  ‘They might.’

  ‘Maybe one or two.’

  ‘In five minutes,’ she said, glancing at her watch, ‘I’m opening my front door as a massage therapist. I’d imagine in five minutes you’ll be starting work as you always do next door. We’re professional colleagues but in different professions. Now, if you’ll excuse me…’

  ‘I won’t excuse you.’

  But it seemed he had no choice. There was a shout from below. A woman’s voice.

  ‘Ally. Ally Westruther. You’re wanted down here. Now!’

  Silence.

  ‘Ally,’ the voice called again, and Ally smirked.

  ‘This’ll be my first customer,’ she told him, and he raised his brows in disbelief.

  ‘You wish.’

  ‘Yeah, and you just wish I’d go away.’

  ‘Of course I don’t. But if you’re going to advertise that you’re a doctor…’

  ‘Ally!’

  ‘It’s Betty,’ Darcy snapped. ‘My receptionist. So much for your first customer.’ He gave Ally a last frustrated glance and strode to the still open window.

  ‘I’m here,’ he called-and then he stopped.

  Ally peered over his shoulder.

  It wasn’t just Betty.

  Half the population of Tambrine Creek seemed to be assembled out on the main street. People waving balloons, banners, placards. People holding plates of food. Guys with crates of what looked like glasses, and more crates with bottles of…champagne?

  ‘Darcy.’ Betty was standing on Ally’s front step, holding a huge tray of sandwiches. ‘What are you doing up here?’

  ‘Um�
�visiting,’ he said weakly, and Ally was pushing him aside and shoving her head out the window.

  ‘Betty,’ she said in astounded delight, and she leaned so far that Darcy caught hold of her and held on. She leaned further and he was forced to hold tighter.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, her face breaking into a huge smile as she saw the extent of the congregation assembled in her street. The balloons. The placards. ‘It’s a party.’

  ‘It surely is,’ Betty told her. ‘Read the placards. Hush, everyone.’ She turned and waved and the crowd fell silent. They must have been under instruction, Ally thought, stunned. There’d been absolute silence until Betty had called out, but as Ally appeared there was a swelling murmur of speculation.

  Doctor caught in bedroom of massage therapist. Whoops.

  But Betty was in charge and speculation wasn’t on the agenda. She handed her sandwich tray to someone and braced in speech position.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she said, and someone at the back gave a derisory hoot.

  ‘Yeah, and the rest of us. Get on with it, Betty.’

  ‘I just want to say something about Ally.’

  ‘Say it.’

  Betty grinned. She smiled up at Ally, her broad, kind face taking in the fact that Darcy was leaning out as well.

  ‘Ally’s come back,’ she said, turning to the crowd again. ‘Our Ally. We hated seeing her go all those years ago and we’re delighted she’s back. We love the fact that she’s setting up in this town and we’re tickled pink that there’s a Dr Westruther in town again.’ Her beam widened still more and she motioned to the mass of banners.

  WELCOME ALLY, the sign said.

  And…

  MASSAGE ROCKS, said another.

  And…

  WE LOVE DR WESTRUTHER, said a third.

  ‘This morning Ally thought she was opening for business without fanfare,’ Betty told them. ‘But when any business opens there should be a ceremony and when any house starts being lived in there should be a house-warming. So this is it, Ally, dear,’ she said, turning again to smile up at Ally. ‘We started an appointment book for you, and you’re booked out solid from eleven a.m. this morning for the rest of the week. But for now…welcome to your Welcome-to-Tambrine-Creek party, Ally Westruther. Come on down.’

  Nine o’clock on a Tuesday morning was a really stupid time for a street party but that was what was happening. Darcy stood on the doorstep of his surgery and gazed at the party-goers in disbelief.