The Doctor Calling

by Meredith Appleyard

  Tired but too wired to sleep, he booted up his laptop and hot-spotted it to his phone. He checked emails and went through the photos he’d taken at the farm and around town until his eyelids drooped over gritty eyes. When he finally slept, pre-dawn light had started to soften the night sky, rubbing out the stars.

  He was woken from a deep sleep by the ringing of the landline. The thought it might be the hospital had him stumbling out of bed to answer it.

  ‘I checked the troughs like you asked and there’s no water, again.’

  Jess. Shit. He rubbed his eyes, yawned. ‘You need a new pump on that bore. I have tried fixing it. It’s buggered. I’ve done everything I can.’

  ‘I can’t afford a new pump. They won’t give me any more credit until we pay off what we owe.’

  ‘If you want water for the sheep, you need a new pump. Carting water indefinitely is not an option.’

  ‘Yeah, well, thanks, Einstein. You sound terrible. Are you getting a cold or something?’

  ‘Or something. Dad’s in hospital again. I didn’t get to bed until five.’

  ‘Why didn’t you ring me? What happened? Is he all right?’

  ‘Well, no, he’s not all right. He’s dying, in case you hadn’t noticed.’ Jake closed his eyes, felt the twist of regret as soon as the words left his lips. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, ‘I’m wrecked.’ He recounted what had happened, how Neill had rallied after the IV fluid.

  Silence thundered down the line until Jess said quietly, ‘I’m glad he’s okay. I don’t think I’ll get in to see him today. Mikey didn’t go to school. He’s miserable. I hope he’s not getting tonsillitis again.’

  ‘Dad’ll be disappointed.’

  ‘Yeah, well, while we’re slinging shit at each other, where were you for the last twenty years?’

  Jake had an almost blinding impulse to tell her to fuck off and slam down the phone, to pack his bags and go. But she was right.

  ‘I’m sorry about that, Jess, I really am. One day I’ll explain.’

  ‘Oh God, Jake, everything is such a stuffed-up mess.’ There was a wobble in her voice.

  ‘I’ll be out as soon as I can. I’m going to call in at the hospital on my way. I’ll bring a new pump with me. See you then,’ he said and hung up. She had two children, she was broke and her husband had just left her. He needed to cut her some slack. He put the kettle on, spooned three teaspoons of instant coffee into a mug, and wished he had time to beg a decent cup of coffee, and a kind word, from Laura.

  ‘I really think you should stay in another twenty-four hours,’ Laura said to her patient on Saturday morning.

  ‘But I feel good,’ Neill said. Laura knew he was lying, he looked terrible. Even with the extra fluid and oxygen, he was as white as the bedsheet.

  ‘What about I organise another blood transfusion, perk you up a bit?’

  Neill fiddled with the oxygen tubing. ‘Save the blood for someone who really needs it,’ he said, and Laura sat down in the chair beside the bed.

  ‘What about pain relief? Is it time to move on to the next step?’

  ‘The needle?’

  ‘Yes, a small needle under the skin there,’ she said and pointed to the area just below Neill’s collarbone. ‘We connect it up to a syringe pump and you get a steady flow of a painkilling mixture, twenty-four hours a day.’

  ‘No, but soon.’ He coughed, spat and Laura winced. When he had his breath back he said, ‘It’s my birthday the week after next. Jess wants to have dinner out at the farm.’

  ‘All the more reason for you to stay here for another day. You need rest.’

  ‘All right, whatever you say, you’re the doctor,’ he said and closed his eyes.

  It wasn’t like Neill to give in so easily. She stood up, staring intently at the man before her. There was a tap on the door and with a silent apology one of the catering staff came in to retrieve his untouched breakfast tray.

  Laura watched him sleep and felt the same sense of hopelessness she’d experienced as she’d watched her dying mother sleep. All she could do was help make him as comfortable as possible. She smoothed her fingers across the translucent skin on the back of his hand. He had deteriorated in the past two weeks, while she’d been busy working.

  On Sunday morning Laura woke early after ten hours of sleep. The weather forecast was for thirty-eight degrees, and she wanted to get a run in first thing. After pulling on shorts and a skimpy tank top, she laced her shoes and slathered sunscreen onto her face, neck and arms. The sun wasn’t up yet but it would be before she was back and there’d be a real sting in it.

  About fifteen minutes into the run, while Laura was congratulating herself on how well she was doing, Jake and Skip fell into step alongside her.

  ‘Morning,’ Jake said. Skip looked up, grinning, pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.

  ‘Hello. Are you collecting Neill from the hospital this morning?’

  ‘Yep. About ten.’

  Laura quickened her pace to match Jake’s easy stride but it wasn’t long before she had to drop back. She shook her head.

  ‘You go ahead. I can’t keep up,’ she said, huffing the words out.

  He grinned, gave a mock salute. ‘I’ll catch you on the way back.’ Sure enough, he fell into step with her again when they were about five minutes from home. His t-shirt was dark with sweat. When they reached Neill’s gate they slowed and Jake and the dog peeled off.

  ‘I’ll have a quick shower and see you for coffee.’

  ‘Okay,’ Laura said without stopping, then she waved and headed around the corner to her home.

  She was towelling her hair dry after a quick shower when Jake knocked on the back door.

  ‘Come in,’ she called. She flicked the comb through her hair and, with one last glance in the mirror, she straightened the hastily donned shorts and t-shirt and went out to make coffee.

  ‘I rang Dad and he said he slept a bit better last night.’

  ‘The extra fluid on board probably did him the world of good. He would have needed it in this heat.’ She dropped a pod into the coffee machine and set it going. Jake took two mugs from the dresser and put the sugar bowl onto the table. She was glad that the ants hadn’t returned.

  ‘The hospital is delivering all this gear to the house on Monday – a commode and some other stuff. And a nurse will come and shower him every morning. The nurses said we can have a hospital bed at home too, if we want.’ Jake leaned against the kitchen bench, watching her make the coffee. ‘Did you organise all that?’

  She nodded. ‘It’s worth thinking about the hospital bed. He’ll be bedridden pretty soon, I’d say, and it will make it easier for you to move him, and for him to move around the bed.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  She brushed against him as she reached into the cutlery drawer for teaspoons. Her breath hitched. He smelled clean, of fabric softener and toothpaste. She almost whimpered, aching with need. He looked at her and she saw her own need reflected back. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then he moved out of the way. She grabbed the spoons and mentally doused herself with cold water. It was better this way. Saying goodbye to him was inevitable and at the rate Neill was deteriorating, it would be sooner rather than later.

  ‘You could move his bed out and a hospital bed in. There’s room in his bedroom, but you might have to rearrange some of the furniture.’ She hoped her voice didn’t sound as croaky as it felt. ‘It’d be a much easier way to manage him when he can’t do anything for himself any longer.’

  He drew up a chair and sat down at the table, spooned sugar into his drink. She frothed milk for a cappuccino.

  ‘I don’t reckon it’d fit through the bedroom door.’

  ‘True,’ she said, lips pursed thoughtfully. ‘But it would go through the double glass doors and into the sitting room. We could use that as his bedroom. And the TV is already in there.’ She poured the milk into the coffee, stirred it, licked the spoon. ‘Problem solved!’

  ‘
What about all the furniture?’

  ‘Store it in his bedroom for the time being.’

  He downed his long black in several mouthfuls and stood up to make another. ‘Sounds like a plan – for when the time comes.’ He started the machine going again and turned to face her. ‘When do you reckon that time’ll be?’

  ‘Who knows, Jake? My best guess would be not long at all. It didn’t take much for me to convince him to stay in hospital another day.’ She took out two bowls and a packet of muesli. She poured herself a generous helping, then offered the packet to him.

  ‘No, thanks, I’ll have some toast later.’

  She shrugged and spooned yoghurt and fruit onto the muesli. Jake looked at it, looked at her and picked up the empty bowl. ‘This is probably better for me than toast,’ he said, helping himself to the breakfast on offer. They sat at the table and ate in silence.

  ‘Are you going out to the farm later today?’

  He passed her his empty mug. ‘No, by the time I pick Dad up and settle him in, I’ll have the rest of the day off. Unless Jess has a crisis of some kind.’

  ‘Any word from her husband?’

  ‘No, not since that phone call. Mikey and Sam really miss him.’ He stretched his long legs out and laced his fingers behind his head. ‘Do you need a hand with anything today?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said and observed him, so comfortable in her kitchen. ‘I’m finally going to finish painting the woodwork if I can. I really pushed it this morning. I’m going to be as stiff as a post tomorrow morning.’

  He got to his feet with the grace of a panther. ‘Join the club,’ he said, amusement dancing in his hazel eyes. It wasn’t until he’d gone that she got it, and she did laugh out loud.

  ‘Why didn’t you come and ask me to help you? I offered this morning,’ Jake snapped.

  He was staring up a ladder at Laura, who was balanced precariously, a cordless drill in one hand and a matchstick blind in the other. She swung around at the sound of his voice, nearly losing her balance.

  ‘Bloody hell, Laura, what is it with you and ladders?’ He reached out to steady it.

  ‘Well, you’re here now so could you please give me a hand putting this blind up?’ She was frustrated, by the sounds of things. He held out his hand and she passed him the blind and the cordless drill, and climbed down the ladder.

  ‘The fascia board is old and the crappy screws that came with the blind aren’t long enough. I’ve a good mind to take the damn thing back to the shop.’

  He studied the screws and the blind and then laid them down on the verandah. ‘Don’t move,’ he said. ‘I’ll see what Dad’s got in his shed.’

  He was back in minutes with a jam tin of assorted screws and nails. She held one end of the blind while he fixed the other and in about five minutes the job was done.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said as she rolled the blind down. ‘This’ll keep the afternoon sun off the kitchen window.’

  ‘It’ll flap about when the wind comes up.’

  She grabbed a plastic shopping bag from one of the cane chairs. ‘Ta-da,’ she said and held up two occy straps.

  Amazed, he took one of the elastic ties from her and fastened the bottom corner of the blind to a verandah post, while she did the other. Her shorts and tank top and her arms and legs were splattered with paint. She looked flushed and sweaty. She looked gorgeous. He tried to remember why he wasn’t supposed to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

  She collected the plastic wrapping from around the blind while he scooped the screws and nails back into the tin. ‘Did you want something?’ she said. ‘Is Neill okay?’

  ‘He’s good. I got back to him at about eleven. He had yoghurt for lunch, and a cup of tea —’

  ‘What?’ she said when he paused, his expression bemused.

  He threw up his hands. ‘I can’t believe I’m talking about what he had for lunch, and how pleased I am about it.’

  ‘He’s dying, he’s your dad, and no matter how much you fight against it, you love him.’

  He looked away, couldn’t believe he had tears collecting at the back of his eyes.

  ‘Jake,’ she said gently, and he picked up the cordless drill and snapped off the battery. He knew she understood but he couldn’t talk about it. Not now.

  ‘Where do you put this on charge?’ he said. ‘It’s nearly flat.’

  ‘Laundry.’ She took it from him. ‘Do you want a beer?’

  ‘That’s what I came to ask. I was heading down the pub and wondered if you wanted to come for a quick drink?’

  She looked down at her clothes, lifted one arm and smelled her armpit. ‘I’m filthy, I pong and I’m still on call. Sorry,’ she said. ‘You go right ahead, though.’

  ‘Do you have beer?’ He realised he didn’t want to go to the pub at all if she wasn’t coming. What he really wanted to do was to spend time with her.

  She named the brand he drank – what were the chances? – and he raised his eyebrows. He was delighted when she started to blush.

  ‘Works for me,’ he said.

  When she came back a few minutes later she handed him a can of beer in a stubby holder and opened a bottle of spring water for herself, pressing it to her forehead with a blissful sigh before gulping down half of it. She sank into the chair beside him and unlaced her sneakers.

  ‘Did you finish painting the passage?’

  ‘Yep. And I’ve booked to hire the sander again on Wednesday to do the floor in the front room. Then I’ll seal it.’

  ‘Why the rush?’

  ‘Oh, no rush, really. I just thought Alice might come up sometime over the Christmas break and it’d be good to have a spare bedroom again. I don’t fancy sharing my bed with her.’

  He wondered if she’d mind sharing it with him. He took a long pull of ice-cold beer, hoping it’d work its way down to where things were beginning to heat up.

  ‘So,’ he said eventually. Her head whirled around and she cleared her throat, pressing the water bottle to her face again. Her thoughts had gone the same way his had, he’d put money on it. He up-ended the beer can and drained it, slipped it out of the stubby holder.

  ‘Anther one?’ she said. He was sorely tempted. It was pleasant sitting on her back verandah looking out over the vegetable patch as the heat of the day dissipated with the lowering sun. He put the empty on the cement beside him.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ he said and rose. ‘Do you want anything?’

  ‘Nah . . .’ She leaned back in the chair. ‘I’m buggered.’

  ‘You drive yourself too hard, Laura.’

  ‘Life’s short,’ she said when he came back with another beer.

  ‘But there’s such a thing as a work-life balance, or so I’m told.’ He sank down into the chair again.

  ‘Hah,’ she said, and nudged his leg with her knee. ‘You’re a fine one to talk.’

  ‘Exceptional circumstances. But it won’t be forever. When this is over —’ He hesitated, flipped open the can, took a sip. ‘When this is over and I get on with my life, you can rest assured it won’t be all work and no play.’

  She closed her eyes, swiped lazily at a fly. ‘Whatever,’ she said, and for some reason her response, or lack of it, irritated him.

  ‘What do you do to relax? All I’ve seen you do is work. You don’t have a social life.’

  She opened her eyes and her lips pressed together and he knew he’d scored with that one. But then she closed her eyes again. ‘You know, my sister always tells me that.’

  He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees. Her eyes were still closed. She looked relaxed. Paint in her hair, a smudge on her chin.

  ‘She’s been telling me I need to get a social life for months now. What she’s really telling me is I need to go out, meet men, start dating again.’ She chuckled, and her merriment was catching, but the thought of her dating other men left him cold. She opened her eyes and they were still dancing with amusement. ‘Really, she’s been telling me that sin
ce I was eighteen. I think she was happier than I was when I started going out with Brett.’

  Jake grunted, went back to finishing his beer, and imagined her as a medical student, nerdy, all study and no play. The diligent, committed doctor. She stood up and stretched leisurely.

  ‘I reckon I’ll take a shower and think about what I’m going to make for dinner.’ She stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. ‘You know what, Jake Finlay? This,’ she said, and made a sweeping gesture with her hand to encompass the house and garden. ‘This is my social life, and I think I’m quite happy with that for the moment. I spend all my working hours with people, hearing about their ailments, listening to their woes. I enjoy this.’

  He stood up, reached out and swiped at a smudge of paint on her chin with his thumb. ‘Go and have a shower. Don’t worry about dinner. Let’s go to the pub for a meal.’

  Her jaw dropped and he grinned. ‘Close your mouth, Laura. If you want to, you can tell your sister you’ve been on a date.’

  ‘But what about Neill?’

  ‘He’ll be more than okay for a couple of hours. I’ll set him up in front of the television with the phone close by.’

  ‘Give me twenty minutes,’ she said, and he almost danced back to his house.

  Jess turned on the tap and it gurgled, coughed, spat out a few slugs of water and then there was nothing. The sink full of dirty dishes sat there, high and dry, green detergent dribbling down the side. She wanted to hurl them all against the wall. First the bore pump, now the house pump.

  ‘Mum, the toilet won’t flush.’

  Jess squeezed her eyes shut, steadied herself before turning to her eldest son. ‘I don’t think the pump’s working. Let’s take a look. Will you hold the torch for me, please?’

  Mikey raced into the kitchen. ‘The pump’s busted and Mum’s going to fix it,’ Sam said.

  ‘Mum’s going to look at it and see if she can fix it,’ Jess corrected, and the two boys traipsed out after her.