‘You sound like you know.’
‘I do.’
He waited but she didn’t elaborate.
‘So,’ he said. ‘What home renovations and garden makeovers are planned for today? Or is there a baking challenge brewing?’
‘Not sure,’ she answered seriously, ignoring his mocking tone. ‘Yesterday afternoon I started prepping the front room for painting. But . . .’ She paused, pulled at her bottom lip. ‘I might see if I can buy those vegetable seedlings and set them.’ She waved a hand at the cloud front moving in. ‘If rain’s on its way I might be better off in the garden today.’ She picked up her glass and drained it.
‘What happens when Laura gets bored with baking and gardening and home renovating? Laura must have a life to go back to.’
‘Who says Laura will get bored?’
‘Just a thought.’
‘What about you? Packing up today? What time do you hit the road tomorrow?’
He was but it sounded like she couldn’t wait for him to leave Potters Junction and that irritated him. And then he was annoyed with himself for being irritated, because, damnit, he was heading to Istanbul any day now and he’d never see her again. He shifted in the seat, purposefully avoiding looking at her bare legs.
‘I’m heading to the tip first.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t for the life of me understand why Neill brought the crap in from the farm when he moved.’
‘When did he move in from the farm?’
Jake pursed his lips. ‘I dunno, ten, eleven years ago, I reckon. Around the time Jess and Darren got married.’
‘You never wanted to take up the farming life?’
‘Nope. I enjoy what I do.’
‘Just a thought.’
‘Touché,’ he said.
He stared out at the backyard, his high from the run evaporating fast. The truth was, Jake probably would have kept farming if things had gone differently back then. The place wouldn’t look as damned rundown as it did if he had. The old man was right – Darren Phillips wasn’t a farmer’s bootstrap. He never had been and never would be. Any wonder Jess looked anxious.
Jake jumped to his feet, startling her. ‘We all have our what-ifs, Laura, and our demons.’ That would be the understatement of the year. ‘I’m sure you have yours.’
Woken by the sudden movement the dog was on his feet and already waiting by the gate.
‘Thanks for the water.’ Jake draped the towel over the back of the chair and strode across the verandah. He slammed the gate shut behind him on his way out. So much for not waking the old man.
The rain came at dusk, without any fanfare, and Laura was pleased she’d made the effort to go buy vegetable seedlings and set them. Potters Junction wasn’t a big town, it had a population of about 1500, but there was a hardware shop with a reasonably sized gardening section. Clearly there were some keen gardeners in town.
It rained into the night, soft and steady, and she drifted to sleep listening to it gurgle in the gutters. The only evidence of the rain on Saturday morning was found in the potholes she dodged as she ran off the bitumen onto the gravel. There was no sign of Jake or the dog and she was relieved. Maybe he’d left already, although she hadn’t heard his bike, and in the quiet before dawn she would have heard it; the whole town would have heard it.
Laura caught the unmistakable sound mid-morning, when she was staking the tomato seedlings. She stopped what she was doing and listened, ear cocked to the movement next door, miffed that he hadn’t said goodbye. He wasn’t a bit like Brett. In fact to look at they were polar opposites – Brett’s smiling blondness and Jake’s brooding darkness. Good heavens! Why on earth was she comparing him to Brett? She gave her head a shake, picked up the hammer and started pounding in the next stake.
She’d arranged to pick Neill up at eight p.m. for the seventieth birthday party at the town hall. It was unfair of her to hope, but after the exertion of his farm outing on Thursday night, she was optimistic that he’d change his mind about going. Laura kept her phone close by all day. By late Saturday afternoon there’d been no call and she’d resigned herself to the event. There was no doubt in her mind that Neill Finlay wouldn’t be around to celebrate the good doctor’s seventy-first birthday.
Showered, hair washed and dried, she closed the wardrobe door with a frustrated howl. All of her dressy clothes were in bags in Alice’s spare room back in Adelaide. Up until now it hadn’t bothered her but for a moment, while rummaging through her limited options, she wished she’d visited Potters Junction’s clothing boutique to buy something fitting for the occasion. Maybe she could talk Alice into visiting sometime soon and bringing along the clothes.
In desperation she slipped on the only skirt she had, teamed it with a silk shirt that matched her eyes and dressed the outfit up with a colourful scarf. Her reflection in the spotty mirror of the old wardrobe told her there were a few kilos to go before she’d fill out the linen skirt like she used to. With practised fingers she swept her hair into a knot, not bothering with any makeup except a dusting of face powder and a smear of lipstick. She didn’t stop to check her reflection again on the way out.
Neill was waiting when she drove into the driveway at eight. The front light was on and Jake’s bike was gone from the carport. It was done, he was gone.
‘You look nice,’ Neill said. She held the car door open for him. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a skirt before.’
‘You don’t look too bad yourself,’ she said, taking in the precision-pressed slacks and jacket, ignoring the fact they looked about three sizes too big for him.
‘Don’t fill ’em out like I used to,’ he said, reading her mind.
The Potters Junction town hall was bursting with light and music, people spilling out onto the footpath.
‘Look at that,’ Laura said with a bubble of incredulous laughter as a car pulled out of a parking space just past the main entrance. ‘Couldn’t have done better if I’d planned it.’
Helping Neill out of the car she laid a hand on his arm and said, ‘When you’re ready to go, please tell me. Remember I’m here for you and I don’t care if we only stay half an hour.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll let you know when I’ve had enough.’
They found their way in through the press of partygoers and Laura looked around. So many people. They stood shoulder to shoulder, the sound of live music competing with a hundred conversations. There were several familiar faces – the man from the hardware shop acknowledged her, one of the checkout girls from the supermarket gave her a little wave and the woman from the post office who looked a bit like a horse seemed surprised to see her there. But there was no-one she actually knew and it wasn’t long before Neill was pulled into the crowd, leaving her hanging on the fringes like a wallflower. She stood on tiptoes, craning her neck to locate him, and swallowed her rising anxiety, telling herself not to be ridiculous. He’d be okay. He knew these people, they were his community, and they’d look out for him if anything happened. Besides, there was a doctor in the house. Two doctors, actually.
She made her way to the bar and took the proffered glass of bubbly from a man in a snowy white shirt and a bowtie. He bobbed his head in recognition and she remembered him as another employee from the hardware shop.
Glass in hand, she skirted around groups of people talking animatedly. Snatches of conversation gave her the impression the townsfolk thought Doctor Milt Burns was looking to retire, that he would have cut back already if they’d found another GP to take his place. She overheard someone say they thought Doctor Burns was unwell, and another conversation snippet revealed that his wife Linda wanted to move to Adelaide to be closer to their grandchildren.
The bubbly tickled her nose and fizzed across her tongue. Not at all unpleasant. It had been months since she’d had a glass of champagne. Or anything alcoholic, for that matter. When people peered at her with curiosity she smiled and moved along, silently cursing Jake and Jess and wishing she were someplace else. Home, preferab
ly.
‘You all right, love? You look lost,’ a gravelly voice asked in her ear and she spun around in surprise. A short barrel of a man thrust out his hand. ‘Stan Wiley, local Landmark agent,’ he said and Laura’s hand was swallowed by a large, sweaty paw. He tipped one of his chins at her empty glass. ‘Need a refill?’
‘Er, no, thanks.’ She fanned her face with her hand, searching the crowd again for Neill’s familiar face. ‘There’s my friend,’ she said when she spotted him sitting at a table with several other men, all with the sunburned, grizzled look of old farmers. ‘I’d better see if he’s okay. He has been unwell.’ She gave the man called Stan what she hoped was an apologetic smile before squeezing through the partygoers to where Neill sat.
‘Only trying to be friendly, darl,’ she heard Stan say as she left him in her wake.
She hadn’t gone far when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. What now? Surely Stan had got the message. But the hand gripping her arm was slim, cool and definitely belonging to a female. When the owner of the hand spoke, Laura felt the blood drain from her face.
‘Laura O’Connor, as I live and breathe! What on earth are you doing here?’
Laura squeezed her eyes shut. Damn Milton Burns for turning seventy. Damn Jess for being too busy and damn Jake for being too irresponsible to bring his father.
‘Meghan Kimble – what a lovely surprise,’ she said, stretching her mouth wide in the facsimile of a smile. ‘Meghan Kimble!’ she repeated in an attempt to convince herself this wasn’t a dream.
Meghan gathered her into an awkward embrace around a very pregnant belly, and Laura knew it was no dream.
‘After all these years, Meghan, and in Potters Junction of all places. Someone from the old crowd told me you’d come back from the UK and gone bush.’
‘Yeah, I’ve gone bush, all right.’ Shaking her head with disbelief she added, ‘Wow! I can’t believe it’s you. Of all the people to run into.’
Of all the people, all right. Even in her most paranoid moments, never had Laura imagined that out here she’d run into someone from her old life. Someone who’d known her before.
When she’d been considering her move to Potters Junction, Laura knew there was a slim chance a local might remember her from her visits to Great-aunt Dorothy’s as a teenager. It had been a lifetime ago, though, and Dorothy had been dead for years. Laura certainly hadn’t anticipated bumping into an Adelaide friend.
‘So, Meghan, what have you been up to?’ Laura looked from the glowing woman she’d known since medical school to the handsome, taciturn man standing behind her. A toddler with coppery red curls the same colour as Meghan’s was perched high on his hip.
Laura’s tinkle of laughter sounded hollow even to her own ears, like she was in a tunnel. She took a slow breath in through her nose, coaching herself to calm down, and tried not to stare at Meghan’s abdomen. ‘Silly question, when it’s quite obvious what you’ve been up to.’
Meghan proudly smoothed a hand over her belly, looking over her shoulder to the man behind her. ‘Meet my husband, Sean Ashby, and our daughter, Lucy.’
Laura shook Sean’s warm, work-hardened hand. Sean said something she didn’t quite catch and when she said hello to Lucy the little girl pushed her face into her father’s chest and he tightened his grip on her.
‘Lovely to meet you both,’ she said, and felt as if her face would crack if she kept this up for much longer.
Meghan with a husband and a child. And another one on the way. Laura tried to step back, away from her friend, and melt into the people pressed around her. Her heart was hammering and her hands were clammy against the linen of her skirt.
While Meghan was making her first foray into marriage and motherhood, Laura had been grieving for the family she’d lost. A sudden, vicious punch of raw grief winded her and she steeled herself not to visibly recoil from it. She had to get out of there.
Meghan opened her mouth to speak but suddenly, miraculously, Neill was beside her. ‘I’m ready to go whenever you are, lass.’ He grasped her arm, his fingers digging into the skin, almost making her wince. But it took her mind off her own distress and gave Laura the excuse she needed to leave. Neill’s face was ashen, his breaths coming in short, wheezy bursts. For a moment she wasn’t sure who was holding who up.
Relief washed over Laura as Meghan turned her attention to Neill. But the relief was short-lived.
‘How are you, Mr Finlay?’ said Meghan. ‘And how on earth do you know Laura?’
‘I’m so-so, Doctor Kimble,’ he said. ‘I have my good days and my bad days. Laura is my neighbour and she kindly offered to bring me tonight when Jess couldn’t come.’
‘I hear Jake’s home again,’ said Sean, from behind his wife.
‘Was. Only for a few days,’ Neill replied.
‘And now it’s time to take you home, Neill.’
Making her goodbyes, Laura began to inch towards the door with Neill on her arm but Meghan was insistent.
‘Are you around for long? We must catch up. We have so much to talk about.’
Laura tried to think up an excuse but her mind had stopped functioning. ‘That would be lovely.’ It felt as if everyone was watching her, waiting for her answer. ‘I’m here for a while.’
‘That’s great news, isn’t it, Sean? Laura, ring Magpie Creek medical centre and ask Julia to give you my mobile number if I’m not there. Last place I ever thought I’d run into you, or anyone from the old crowd, really. And are you here on your own, or is —’
‘Give the poor woman some air,’ Sean said.
Laura could have grabbed Meghan’s husband and kissed him. He’d sensed her discomfort, stepped forward – hitching the toddler up on his hip – and wrapped his free arm around his wife’s shoulders, pulling her against him. ‘Neill’s just about ready to drop.’
Meghan flushed. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry! It’s just that it’s been so long.’
‘I’ll phone,’ Laura said and when Meghan looked sceptical she added, ‘I promise.’
‘If I don’t hear from you soon, I’ll track you down.’ She winked at Neill. ‘I know where you live!’
Neill leaned heavily on her arm as they made their way out into the slap of the cold night air. He looked exhausted.
‘I reckon I probably should have stayed home,’ he said between breaths, as Laura helped him into the passenger seat of the car.
‘Did you enjoy yourself?’
He hesitated. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘It was worth it then.’
‘I suppose.’ He leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes.
She slid behind the wheel and started the car. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Pooped, lass, but okay. Are you okay?’ He tilted his head sideways to peer at her.
‘I’m all right,’ she said lightly, certain he wouldn’t be able to see her expression in the eerie glow of the dash lights.
‘I watched you coming towards me. You went as white as a sheet when Doc Kimble recognised you.’
She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. She heard him sigh.
‘It’s all right, lass, we all have things that are private, and I’m sure if you’d wanted me to know, you’d have told me.’ He coughed and it rattled through his whole body. He held up a bony finger. ‘But you remember, I knew Dorothy. We were neighbours for five years before she died. I saw lots of photos.’ He coughed again and Laura chewed on the inside of her cheek, not sure if she wanted to hear any more. Neill cleared his throat and when he spoke again his voice sounded rougher, raspier, as if it were almost worn out. ‘And her house was never sold. That handyman bloke used to check on everything. I put two and two together. Dorothy was very proud of her great-nieces, the doctor and the lawyer. I know you’re not the lawyer.’
She could feel his gimlet gaze boring into her through the darkness, daring her to contradict him. She had nothing to say to him and so kept her mouth closed for the rest of the drive home. The carport was empty when
they arrived but Neill had left a light on inside.
‘I wasn’t hiding anything, Neill,’ she said quietly. ‘I just needed some anonymity while I sorted myself out.’
‘It’s out of the closet now, lass. Everyone saw the exchange tonight, the town was all ears.’
‘Never mind. Like I said, I wasn’t hiding anything.’
‘Well,’ he said and unclipped his seatbelt and fumbled with the doorhandle. ‘I hope it doesn’t cause you any difficulties.’
‘Why would it cause me any difficulty here? No-one knows me.’
‘You’d be surprised.’ He paused and Laura waited for him to catch his breath. ‘My bet is when they find out you’re a doctor, and a GP no less, they’ll be camping out on your doorstep, trying to sweet-talk you into hanging up your shingle here. The word is that Milt wants to retire.’
Laura felt her insides drop. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘But it’s not your problem,’ he said and gave her arm a pat. ‘Thanks for taking me.’
‘I’m glad you had a good time. Do you need a hand? Do you want me to help you inside?’
‘No,’ Neill said, as the verandah light flicked on and, much to Laura’s amazement, the door opened and Jake appeared on the doorstep. He was barefoot, his hair was tousled and he appeared as though he’d been asleep. She climbed out, gaping at him across the roof of the car. The dog barked.
‘I thought you’d gone?’
‘Minor change of plans. I went out to the farm to see Jess again.’ He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Good crowd?’
‘Yes, the hall was packed.’
‘I thought you’d be longer than this.’
‘Neill wanted to come home, he’s exhausted.’
‘Right.’
‘You could have taken Neill after all,’ she said and he looked away. Then she wouldn’t have run into Meghan Kimble.
‘Shit happens,’ he said and swung down the steps.
‘Yeah, doesn’t it. I’ll leave you to it.’ She slid back into the car.
‘Dad, let me give you a hand inside,’ Jake said and effortlessly helped him out of the car.
The Doctor Calling Page 6
