‘It’s a boy,’ Meghan said, her voice cracking. ‘Sean, we have a son.’ She beamed up at her husband. He leaned down and put his arms around his wife, kissing her firmly on the lips.
‘Well done,’ Laura said, smiling at the proud parents and the midwife. ‘No episiotomy or tears or anything.’
Meghan wasn’t listening, staring blissfully at the slippery, squirming body in her arms. Together they wrapped him and Laura quickly assessed him while he rooted around for his mother’s nipple.
‘Are you sure you had your dates right?’ Laura asked.
Jayne looked up from where she was busy delivering the placenta. ‘Bigger baby than I expected, not much vernix,’ she said. ‘I wondered about that myself.’
Meghan lifted her shoulders off the bed in a tired shrug. ‘Could have been a week or so out, I suppose . . . Who knows? I missed one of the earlier scans.’ She gasped as a hungry, seeking mouth tried to latch on to her breast.
Laura glanced at Jayne. ‘I’ll check with the Women’s and Children’s first but I’m sure they’ll say it’s okay to keep him here.’
Meghan yelped with surprise when the baby successfully attached and started to suck. Sean watched in awe. Jayne murmured with satisfaction when the placenta plopped into the waiting kidney dish, and Laura noted the neonate’s Apgar scores on the delivery sheet.
Two hours later, exhausted, her emotions mixed, Laura left mother and baby sleeping under the watchful eye of one very proud dad. After the emergency delivery, the hospital routine had quickly settled back to normal. Jayne, still there hours after the end of her shift, gave Laura a quick hug on her way out.
‘Thanks for coming. I’m so glad everything went smoothly. I’ve done a couple of mini refreshers but it’s at least seven years since I’ve delivered a baby. When Meghan rang after you had, I suggested she’d be better off at Potters Junction. It’s only a few years since they stopped obstetrics and Milt Burns would have delivered a lot of babies.’ Jayne gave her head a shake. ‘But no, she was adamant about coming here.’
A cool change was blustering through when Laura drove out of the hospital car park. Roly-polies skittered across the road, starkly white in the headlights. The drive home took forty-five minutes and, in the dusty darkness, Laura realised in less than six hours she’d be up and getting ready for work again.
Meghan had asked if she’d fill in at the Magpie Creek medical centre for a couple of days, cover call until the booked locum arrived the following week. Laura had promised she’d talk to Milt the next morning about doing Thursday and Friday at the medical centre. While the thought of covering emergency call for the weekend had her mouth going dry, she hoped Doctor Burns was agreeable to her helping Meghan.
Although it was his day off, Milt Burns was at the health centre when Laura arrived Monday morning, and he already knew about Meghan’s baby.
‘Congratulations,’ he said. ‘Meghan phoned me early this morning. Said you’d risen to the occasion. They’re calling him James. No second name, just James Ashby.’
‘Meghan and the midwife did all the work. I suggested she come here, but she preferred to go to Magpie Creek.’
‘Don’t blame her either. If the baby had taken one good look at me it probably would have crawled right back up there.’
Laura chuckled, remembering what Meghan had said about having Milt deliver her child.
‘I talked to the paediatric registrar at the Women’s and Children’s and the baby will stay in Magpie Creek if all goes well. At 3.6 kilograms Meghan might have had her dates out a bit. I’ll drive down again this evening and check on them. Unless of course you want to?’
‘I might just do that this afternoon. I’ll take Linda. She likes to goo and gah over new babies. And I don’t see there’d be any problems with you doing Thursday and Friday in Magpie Creek this week, if you’re happy to do it.’
They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Milt disappeared to finish off his paperwork and Laura detoured past the lunch room to make herself a strong coffee before she started the day’s list. She was tired. Her eyes felt like sandpaper. Witnessing the birth of Sean and Meghan’s baby had been very special, but sleep had proven elusive afterwards. Wide-eyed and dry-eyed, she’d lain awake until the first hint of dawn lightened the sky, bombarded by her own memories and what might have been, if only things had happened differently.
Doctor Burns’s car was taking up two spaces in the car park when Laura pulled in to the Potters Junction Health Centre the following morning. Another day he wasn’t having off! He must have a lot of paperwork to catch up on. Laura collected her bag, locked the car and went in to find the place abuzz with staff.
‘I thought Milt was having today off?’
‘Doesn’t like to miss the cardiologist’s visit,’ said Kaylene.
‘Oh, that’s today.’
‘And it’s the dietician’s day as well,’ she said, rushing off.
By eleven a.m. all four consulting rooms were in use and the usually unflappable Kaylene sounded harassed when she rang Laura between patients.
‘Hospital is on the line. They say it’s urgent. Come back as soon as you can, please, Laura, the waiting room is packed and Milt’s on a go-slow.’
‘Okay, I’ll do my best.’
Kaylene put the hospital through.
‘I have a man here in A&E, thirty-five, history of kidney stones,’ said the RN on duty. ‘He has a temp of thirty-eight, lower back and right-flank pain radiating into his groin and blood in his urine. BP is okay.’
‘How bad’s the pain?’
‘Eight, nine out of ten.’
‘I’ll be there in about ten minutes,’ she said. ‘And please get a urine sample to send off.’
Laura took a minute to psych herself up, grabbed her car keys and shoulder bag and, with a wave to Kaylene, she flew out the back door of the health centre. This was her first emergency call-out to the Potters Junction hospital and anxiety fluttered in her stomach.
Paul Kennedy, the director of nursing, had given her a brief tour of the hospital the week before. It was bigger and busier than Magpie Creek hospital, with more acute-care beds and about the same number of residential aged-care beds.
When she arrived in A&E the patient was writhing around on the bed, eyes tightly shut. His name was Jason Coombes and he took up every square centimetre of the mattress, his sock-clad feet hanging over the end. He wore jeans, stiff with dirt and grease, and an orange high-vis work shirt. His large, paw-like hands were black with grime. The RN said he’d vomited minutes before. Laura checked for drug allergies and ordered him pain relief and an anti-emetic, and then looked through the RN’s notes and at the patient’s vital signs.
Thirty minutes later Jason’s pain had eased, she’d examined him, explained the treatment, written up blood test requests and completed the hospital admission paperwork.
‘I’ll come and see him again after I finish at the health centre this evening,’ she said. ‘Let’s hope a stone passes spontaneously like it has other times.’
With a disdainful look at Laura, the RN picked up the wad of paperwork. ‘I hope so too. Jason’s one of the few mechanics in town and now is his busiest time, with haymaking and harvest on the go.’
‘With any luck he will be out of here in the morning.’
‘If he passes a stone Doctor Burns would let him go tonight.’ The RN clutched the paperwork to her chest, her eyes cool.
Laura didn’t falter. ‘I’m not Doctor Burns. I’ll see Jason later today and make a decision then. He is febrile and that’s worth following up.’
The RN’s mouth thinned to a tight line. She spun on her heel and returned to A&E. Laura watched her retreating. So, that’s how it was going to be.
Jess threaded her fingers through Mikey’s silky blond hair. Resting on her lap, his face was flushed and hot to touch, his breathing faster than it should have been.
‘Michael Phillips?’
Jess nudged her dozing son awake, gave a g
runt as she lifted him into her arms. He really was too big for her to be carrying him but he was so miserable. She followed the doctor down the corridor to the consulting room.
She had only ever seen Laura in daggy paint-splattered work clothes and she was taken aback by the transition. Laura wore tailored linen slacks and a cobalt-blue blouse that matched her eyes perfectly. Diamond studs sparkled in her ears and Jess could see no traces of paint in her hair or underneath her short, clipped fingernails. She took the proffered chair, wondering if she should call her Doctor O’Connor.
‘Call me Laura,’ she said as if reading Jess’s mind. ‘Mikey, you don’t look well at all, mate.’ Laura gently took his hand and Mikey watched her from his fever-glazed eyes.
‘I think he has tonsillitis again. He said he had a sore throat a few weeks ago but that seemed to pass, and then yesterday morning he woke complaining of it again, and his temperature was up this time.’
‘You said again. Is it something he suffers from regularly?’
Jess nodded. ‘Poor little bugger. I did too, until Doctor Burns took my tonsils out.’
‘Has he been to see a paediatrician, or an ENT specialist?’
‘No, he hasn’t.’
Laura took out a digital thermometer and carefully put it in Mikey’s ear and began her examination. Mikey stayed on Jess’s lap throughout and when Laura had finished she washed her hands and said, ‘Let’s get him over this bout and then we can think about what to do next.’
‘Okay, that works.’
Laura handed Jess a script for Mikey’s antibiotics. ‘I haven’t seen you since your dad was in hospital a week ago. You look worn out.’
‘I was awake a bit in the night with Mikey,’ she said. Awake thinking about the rip-roaring argument she’d had with Darren, too. The bed in the sleep-out they used as a spare room was hard as a rock, and the space was hot and stuffy even with the louvres jammed open.
She shifted in the seat. With Mikey on her lap for so long her legs were going to sleep, and Laura’s all-seeing gaze was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable.
‘I know you pop in to see your dad nearly every day now. Why don’t you take a break while Mikey’s sick? I can keep looking out for him and call you if the need arises. What do you think? I’m off tomorrow and then in Magpie Creek for Thursday and Friday, but I’ll be home each evening.’
Jess fought to hold back the tears, which these days were always there, waiting, just behind her eyes. ‘That would be brilliant. And Dad does seem better since the blood transfusion.’
‘He is. But you know it won’t last, that he’s still coughing up blood . . .’
‘Yes, I do understand that,’ she said, relieved when her voice didn’t come out as shaky as it felt. ‘I think he only agreed to have the transfusion in the hope it’d give him more time, enough time for Jake to come home again.’
‘Have you heard from him?’
‘No.’ She eased Mikey off her lap and onto his feet. ‘I can’t carry you anymore, mate. You’re getting too heavy. Let’s get to the chemist and get some of this medicine into you.’
They walked together out to the waiting area.
‘I’ll ring you tomorrow, let you know how Neill is.’
‘Okay, and thanks, Laura.’ With Mikey hanging on to her hand, Jess went to the reception desk to sort out the paperwork, conscious that Laura was still watching her.
Laura thought about Jess on and off for the remainder of the afternoon, right up to the end of the day, whenever her mind wasn’t occupied with another patient. There was a woman on the edge, if ever she’d seen one. What could she do to help take the pressure off? Because Laura wouldn’t dream of prying into her personal life, she resolved that helping Neill was the only way she could help. If Jake was here . . . Shoving the stethoscope into her bag she closed her eyes. He wasn’t here. They’d have to manage. End of story.
What she discovered when she stopped by the hospital on her way home was a different story altogether, and it distracted her from worrying about the Phillips and Finlay families. Jason Coombes had been discharged about twenty minutes earlier – by Doctor Burns, no less.
The RN on the afternoon shift was an older woman with tight, iron-grey curls, bright pink lipstick, her blouse gaping over a generous bosom. Elaine read her name badge.
‘Elaine, did Jason pass a stone? Had his temperature gone down before he left?’
The woman rooted around in a pile of case notes on the desk until she found Jason’s. She flicked through the file, scanned the clinical notes, and Laura watched her face turn a mottled shade of crimson.
‘It doesn’t look like he passed anything and I don’t think anyone took his temperature again,’ she said and Laura nodded, determined to keep her expression blank.
‘Was a follow-up appointment made with his GP?’
‘That’s not up to us,’ Elaine said.
Laura took the case notes from her and looked at Doctor Burns’s brief discharge note. There was no mention of follow-up care or further investigations. She put the file back on the nurses’ station desk. Elaine wouldn’t meet Laura’s eyes.
‘I’m covering call tonight,’ Laura said. ‘You have my mobile phone number.’
Elaine started tidying the desk. Laura picked up her bag and had to dodge the meal trolley on her way out. When she got to her car she threw her bag onto the passenger seat and sat there for a few minutes, seething. What was going on here? She’d written in her earlier entry she’d be back to review the patient that evening. It was supposed to be Milt’s day off, and she was covering the after hours on-call. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. There was no way she could let this slide. If Milt Burns didn’t trust her to manage one of his patients in an emergency, they’d better have it out, sooner rather than later. Before she could change her mind she scrolled through her contacts until she came to his name and tapped the green button.
Milt Burns answered on the third ring, his voice gruff.
‘Why did you discharge Jason Coombes?’ She was so incensed she didn’t bother with pleasantries. ‘I wrote in my clinical note that I’d be back to check him.’
He gave a surprised grunt. Laura suspected no-one had challenged him in a long time.
‘He said he felt all right and needed to get back to work. He’s the only mechanic in town this week.’
‘When I admitted him his temperature was thirty-nine five. There was macroscopic blood in his urine. He hadn’t passed anything when he was discharged. There are no blood results yet. I checked.’
She heard her colleague’s sharp intake of breath. ‘I didn’t realise he was febrile.’
And you didn’t look?
‘I’ll ring him,’ Milt said and disconnected.
Laura let herself sink into the seat. Even with the window down, the car was a hotbox. She had pulled into the shed at home when the phone rang.
‘He refused to go back, said he had too much to do. I couldn’t force him,’ Milt said.
Laura didn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say.
‘I interfered. It won’t happen again,’ he said and rang off.
Laura stared at the phone. It was as close to an apology as she’d ever get, she suspected. She climbed out of the car and wondered how long it’d be before Jason showed up in A&E again.
Mikey willingly crawled into bed as soon as they got home. Since seeing Laura, Jess had picked up Sam from school, dropped him off at a mate’s for a sleepover, and visited her dad. She’d made macaroni cheese for Neill’s dinner while Mikey half-heartedly watched television.
‘Dad, Laura will be around tomorrow.’
‘I’ll be fine. You take that boy home and get those antibiotics into him. If he’s anything like you were, he’ll be on the improve in twenty-four hours.’
Now at home in his own bed, Jess looked down at her sleeping son and hoped her father was right. She wandered into the kitchen and thought about dinner. There’d been no sign of Darren or his ute all
day but on the way home she’d noticed the windmill was working again and there were sheep in that paddock, so he must have been around.
After bringing in the washing and shutting up the chooks, she thawed sausages in the microwave. Staring mindlessly out the kitchen window into the growing gloom she started peeling potatoes. The dogs . . .
‘Shit!’ She dropped the vegetable peeler onto the chopping board and wiped her hands. The dogs had been shut in their pen when she’d put the chooks away. She’d noticed but it hadn’t registered. She frowned, pushed a hand through her hair. Why were the dogs in so early? Where was Darren? He’d taken the dogs this morning and he usually didn’t put them away until last thing. She glanced at the clock. It was almost seven.
With a quick look in on Mikey, she flew outside. The farmyard was empty, no sign of Darren’s ute in any of the sheds. Everything there looked remarkably neat. The gates to the home paddock were shut. Dread began to gnaw at her insides. The pub, she’d ring the pub first.
Nobody had seen him. The neighbours, his drinking mates, the bloke at the servo all said they hadn’t seen him for a couple of days. When Jess put down the phone she shuddered, like someone had walked over her grave.
It was dark now, a sliver of lighter sky along the western horizon the only remnant of the day. Flicking on the lights, Jess paced from room to room, her mind buzzing, her stomach hollow with worry. What should she do next? Take her car and look around the property? Instinct told her she wouldn’t find him. Everything pointed to him not being there: the closed gates, the dogs penned. Her pulse roared in her ears.
Their argument the night before had been ferocious. Darren had never raised a hand to her but his vitriol had cut deep. They’d covered a lot of ground and, like every argument they’d ever had, it ended with all her faults, and what was wrong with the effing farm and her effing family.
Jess had never spent a night in the sleep-out before, but after their fight she couldn’t face the prospect of lying beside Darren all night. She’d known she wouldn’t sleep a wink. This morning when she’d emerged from the opposite side of the house, yawning, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, Sam, ever the early riser, had given her an unreadable look. He’d been more reserved that usual and the thought that Sam and Mikey had heard their parents arguing had made her feel sick.
The Doctor Calling Page 14
