by Annie Seaton
The town was quiet, apart from the increasing number of semi-trailers breaking the silence as their drivers hit the air brakes at the fifty kilometre zone where the highway turned into the main street. The shops were all closed, but there was some activity at a bakery across the road. Keeping an eye out for trucks, he jogged across the highway, bent and tied his loose shoelace. He wasn’t used to this humidity, and already perspiration was soaking the back of his singlet despite the early hour. As Jeremy straightened, the sound of feet thudding on the concrete footpath behind him caught his attention. He turned to see Emma jogging towards him, but her head was down and she didn’t notice him until she was almost on top of him. She looked up and came to a stop.
Her expression closed as she looked back at him, and there was not a glimmer of welcome in her expression. Almost as though he was something unpleasant that she’d stepped in.
‘Morning.’ He kept his voice wary—she obviously wasn’t happy to see him. ‘You still run too, then?’
She reached up and removed the small earphones from her ears. ‘Sorry. What did you say?’
‘I said you still run?’
‘When I can.’ There was a glimpse of the Emma of old when she gave him a small smile as she caught her breath. ‘I usually head north across the bridge at the creek but I came this way to pick up an apple turnover from the bakery for George on my way back.’
‘I imagine he’ll like that.’
His first glimpse of her without those loose hippie clothes showed a fit and toned body. Her dark hair was pulled back into a high, swishing ponytail and her cheeks were slightly pink from the exertion. There were a couple of fine lines around her eyes that hadn’t been there five years ago but her skin was glowing, and she looked vital and full of life. Their birthdays were only a few days apart so he knew she was just short of her twenty-eighth birthday, but Emma looked no older than the eighteen she’d been when he’d first met her. Unlike him, she hadn’t broken a sweat. The familiar lemon fragrance that she’d always favoured drifted across to him.
No matter what he’d said or done last night, everything had seemed to get her offside; he wasn’t about to start another day doing the same. He looked over Emma’s shoulder into the bakery and nodded. ‘Can I shout you a coffee? The pub doesn’t open up till seven for breakfast and there’s no coffee machine in the room.’
‘Welcome to Dalrymple.’ But he sensed her smile was forced. ‘Sorry, but no thanks. I have to be somewhere else.’ Emma strode past him into the bakery.
Jeremy stood on the footpath, debating whether to keep heading south or turn around. The highway to the south narrowed. By the time he decided to turn back and run towards the park he had noticed up the road from the pub, Emma had walked back out holding a small brown paper bag.
She placed it on the small table outside the door, put her headphones back in and gave him a quick nod before she picked up the pastry packet and loped off down the street. He stood and watched her run and the past five years disappeared in a flash.
*
Three hours later, Jeremy stood in front of the old timber wardrobe, knotting his navy-blue tie in front of the cracked oval mirror. The breakfast in the pub’s dining room had been hearty and he already regretted the second cup of coffee. But it would keep him on his toes as he ventured into the hospital. He picked up his car keys and then put them down again; it was hardly worth the drive.
Flipping his suit jacket over one shoulder and picking up his briefcase, he locked the door behind him as sweet anticipation flooded through him. If all went well today, Dalrymple would be his base for at least the next year.
A new beginning. It was time to get his life in order.
Chapter 8
Monday morning
Dalrymple Hospital
‘You can’t keep me here. I can do what I want.’
As she headed up to the first floor of the hospital, Emma could hear George complaining all the way from the stairs. She’d called into the ground floor ward and checked on her other two patients first, knowing that he would be chafing to get out of the hospital, and that she’d have to spend extra time soothing him. As much as she loved the old fellow, he could be hard work. She would have some talking to do to entice him to stay.
As usual he didn’t let her down. ‘I’m ready to go home, now.’ His wrinkled face lit up when Emma stopped in the doorway. She shot the night duty nurse a sympathetic smile. ‘Right now.’
‘Long night, Judy?’ Emma frowned as she walked over to the bed, the brown paper bag hidden behind her back. ‘You should have clocked off by now.’
‘A very long night, Doctor Porter. Mr Clarke here has been talking about discharging himself, but he hasn’t been down for his X-ray yet so I thought I’d stay with him till he was called down.’
Judy handed the observation chart to Emma, who removed her hand from behind her back and juggled the pastry bag with the chart.
‘You go home now, Judy. Thanks for staying with Mr Clarke. I’ll see that he stays here until we get his arm sorted.’
‘I’m going home.’ George held his good arm over his chest and glared at them both.
The paper of the bakery bag crinkled as she flipped over the first sheet of his observation chart.
‘What’s in there?’ Interest flared in George’s expression and he sat up a bit straighter.
‘In where?’ She grinned at him.
‘In the bag with the baker’s name on it.’
‘Oh this?’ Emma held it up. ‘I brought you an apple turnover for breakfast, but if you insist on going home, I’ll take it downstairs for my morning tea.’
‘All right. I guess I can stay.’
That was easier than she’d expected. Emma put the pastry on the table next to the bed and scanned down his obs. It all looked good. George’s face had been washed and the wounds on his cheeks had been attended to. His arm was strapped to the front of his chest over the hospital gown. The bruises around his eyes were a deep purple.
‘We’ll leave it here and I’ll get Rod to take you down to X-ray.’ She’d seen him on her way in. Emma didn’t know how he juggled the two jobs. But then, people said the same thing about her. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at George. ‘And then when you come back you can tell me who hurt you.’ As much as she didn’t want to see Craig, as soon as she’d found out who’d hurt George, she would be down at the police station reporting it. With a bit of luck, the sergeant would be on duty instead.
George looked down as Emma kept her eyes on him. ‘Will you wait with me?’
Her heart went out to him. As far as she knew he’d never married and had no one apart from a couple of neighbours in the village who looked out for him. It was the least she could do to repay the care he had shown to her and Mum since she’d bought Crooked Cottage.
She waited with George until he was taken downstairs to X-ray, although she was keen to get away from the hospital before she ran into Jeremy. Last night, she’d been looking forward to him discovering she was a doctor at the hospital and not a drop-out, but she now realised that had been immature. Today all she felt was irritation that he was here to complicate her life. It would mean digging up the past, and she’d prefer to just get on with her life and not revisit those hard times.
She glanced at her watch; it was half-past nine. With a bit of luck Jeremy would still be in the nursing supervisor’s office. The day registrar didn’t come on duty till midday, so Greg, the senior nurse, would show Jeremy around.
She decided to stay out of sight till George got back and then go over to the clinic after that. Jeremy would be sure to hear that she was a doctor on staff and he’d have time to digest that bit of news before they met again.
What she had done with her life was no one’s business but her own. It was her life, her town and she suspected he wouldn’t stay here too long. If things went as she hoped and she got the job, she’d spend much of that time visiting the outlying settlements up on Cape York.
If s
he got the job. She also knew Jeremy’s opinion on alternative therapies, so any hope she’d held of the new doctor moonlighting at her clinic had disappeared. They’d had many a fierce argument on the subject at uni and his mind had been closed. But it would be satisfying to show him some of the successes she’d had practising holistic medicine. And at least she’d be less busy now that there were three doctors at the hospital again.
‘And this is the last ward. As you can see we are a small hospital . . . we have less than thirty beds in the main building, but we do have an eight-bed residential aged care unit in the grounds.’
Emma drew a quick breath as Greg’s voice carried up the corridor. He must have decided to take Jeremy on the whole hospital tour straight up. She hurried over to the door, her rubber-soled shoes making no sound on the faded lino. Pushing open the door she let herself out onto the wide verandah that overlooked the car park.
The verandah was deserted and Emma walked to the far end and sat on a plastic chair, waiting for them to go back downstairs. She would rather explain to Jeremy in private what she’d really been up to after she left Sydney.
‘The alcohol and drug unit attached to the hospital keeps us busy. Even in a small town up here, the ice epidemic has taken hold,’ Greg said. ‘Although the funding gets less and less every year, we seem to have more patients to look after.’
‘I know. The drug problem is widespread. Kids seem to think it’s no worse than alcohol and there are nowhere near enough resources to fight it.’
Emma craned forward trying to hear. She nodded as Jeremy’s voice drifted out to the verandah.
‘It’s hard to know where to start. The police service can’t cope. The best we can do is try to educate the kids about the dangers of all these so-called “party” drugs.’
She’d never heard him speak with such passion about a cause before. She’d been the one who took on all the causes back at uni. ‘So, what do you think of the place? Not too small for you, I hope?’
‘I don’t imagine I’ll be spending much time here.’
‘That’s true,’ Greg said.
Emma frowned. Why not? Maybe he didn’t like what he’d seen already and was going to leave. One could only hope. He wouldn’t fit into this community; it was light years away from what he was used to. Maybe he’d realised the tropics weren’t all tourist resorts and cocktails. This was a hardworking town where people needed good medical facilities.
Their voices came closer and she stifled a groan as Greg’s intention to show Jeremy the whole place became clear.
‘The new nursing home and the respite centre are located in the hospital grounds. You can see the buildings from out here.’ The door creaked as it pushed open a few metres along from her.
Emma jumped to her feet and turned to face them as Greg stepped onto the verandah, followed by a very dapper looking Jeremy.
‘Ah, Emma, I was hoping we’d run into you. What are you doing out here?’
‘I’m waiting for George Clarke to come back from X-ray.’
‘Doctor Langford, I’d like to introduce you to Emma Porter. She’ll be able to tell you a lot more about how this place works on a day to day basis.’ Greg turned to Jeremy. ‘Doctor Porter’s one of the best, she practises holistic medicine and we’ve all learned a lot from her in the couple of years she’s been with us.’
‘Actually, it’s over three years,’ she said, holding Jeremy’s gaze steadily.
He held out his hand and took hers in a firm clasp. He turned to Greg. ‘I already had the pleasure of meeting Emma last night.’ His hand was warm and his expression was unreadable. ‘But she was Doctor Emma when we attended to George.’
Emma’s hand shook as she removed it from Jeremy’s clasp.
Greg grinned. ‘Most of the clinic patients call her Doctor Emma. Emma’s holistic approach has been hugely successful, especially in our aged care facility. Treating the whole person, not just the symptoms of their disease, has seen some rapid improvements. They all love her down there too.’
Emma folded her arms and smiled at Greg. ‘It’s been a team effort.’
‘Yes, but you’re the driving force.’
Jeremy’s eyes held hers, full of questions, but she looked past him back to Greg.
‘You have no idea of the pleasure it gives me to meet you as Doctor Porter.’ Greg probably wouldn’t pick up his meaning, but she understood what he was saying. Greg looked at them curiously and Emma shook her head slightly before Jeremy could say any more. She didn’t want their previous acquaintance to become grist for the hospital’s gossip mills. She lifted her head and smiled back at him.
‘It’s a pleasure to have you on staff too. It’s been hectic here since the locum moved on.’
‘Jeremy’s not working here. They still haven’t filled the vacancy, so you’re going to be busy for another month or so.’ Greg opened the door and held it open but Emma turned to Jeremy with a frown.
‘I’m confused. Why are you here then?’
‘I’m helping out here for a week or so before I take up my contracted position. I’ve been appointed to establish an Outreach service up in Cape York.’ Jeremy’s quiet voice poured cold water on her dreams. ‘I’ll be based here at the hospital, but I expect to be on the road a lot of the time. It’s only twenty-five hours a week so if there is a need here I’m happy to fill in when it suits.’
‘Outreach? You? Oh . . .’ She had to say something. ‘I didn’t think that position had been filled yet.’
He spread his hands. ‘Yep, I’m here and I’m looking forward to getting to work.’
‘Good. Well, I won’t take up any more of your time. You have plenty to do, I’m sure.’ Emma headed for the door. ‘I have to go check on George.’ She tried to disguise the disappointment in her voice with a cough. There was no way he was going to find out that she’d wanted the Outreach job. That’d be right. Just waltz in with the silver spoon in your mouth and take what other people had worked their butts off for.
Jeremy and Greg followed her into the hospital corridor.
‘How is George this morning? Did you find out what happened to him?’ Jeremy asked.
So he was going to be persistent. It was hard to keep her voice civil.
‘Not yet. I’m waiting for him to come back up from X-ray. He seems to have a bit more movement in his arm this morning. I don’t think it’s fractured. We all know George well, here. He’s accident prone and often very reluctant to share what actually happened to him—isn’t that right, Greg?’ If he thought she was trying to make him feel like the outsider, tough.
‘That he is. George is one of our more interesting . . . and regular patients.’ Greg turned back to the door after directing a curious glance at Emma. ‘Come with me, Jeremy, and I’ll show you where your office is.’
Jeremy nodded. ‘It was a pleasure to see you again, Emma. Perhaps we can meet this afternoon and you can show me the ropes, so to speak.’
‘I’m busy at my clinic this afternoon.’
Jeremy’s mouth was set in a straight line and he held her gaze steadily as Greg walked towards the office at the end of the corridor. ‘Another day then.’ He nodded curtly.
Good, he was getting the picture.
Emma groaned and walked back out to the verandah as soon as they disappeared into the office. She slumped into the chair and let out a big sigh. Disappointment warred with anger; she’d been so hopeful of getting that position. Okay, so she didn’t have years of experience under her belt, but neither did Jeremy. And he didn’t know the community up here like she did. What else could he offer?
Surely she should have been notified she hadn’t been successful before the new person took up the job? It must be because he’d arrived early. There’d have to be a call—or a letter—this week. She’d be interested to receive the feedback about her application.
Jeremy of all people.
Nothing was fair. She should have learned that by now.
By the time George came up to the
ward, Emma had her emotions back under control. The happy look on his face cheered her up a little.
‘So I’m guessing by that smile that it’s not broken after all?’ she said as Rod helped him from the wheelchair.
‘Nope. I’m a tough old bugger.’
‘An old bugger who has an awful lot of accidents.’
‘So I guess you can run me home now, hey?’
While George clambered up onto the bed, his bad arm against his chest and his hospital gown flapping, Rod caught Emma’s eye. ‘Mr Clarke had a bit of a dizzy spell down in X-ray, Doctor Porter,’ he said, as George pulled the top sheet over his bare scrawny legs.
‘Did he now? Hmmmm.’ Emma frowned and peered into George’s eyes. Maybe there was some lingering concussion—the wound on his head was quite deep. Seeing that Emma had matters in hand, Rod gave George a quick salute and left.
Having tucked George in and plumped his pillows to his satisfaction, Emma pulled up the chair next to him and passed over the paper bag. She hid a smile as he bit into the pastry and puffs of icing sugar settled on his wrinkled cheeks. ‘So tell me what really happened.’
George stopped chewing and his eyes narrowed. ‘I told ya. I fell out of a tree.’
‘And I’m going to slip on my fairy wings and fly out the window.’ Emma tapped her fingers on her arm. ‘Tell me the truth, George.’
He dropped his chin to his chest and looked at the apple turnover. ‘You don’t wanna know. And I don’t want you to go rushing off to that wanker down at the police station telling stories. You’ll end up getting me into trouble again.’
‘If someone’s tried to hurt you, it has to be reported.’
He wouldn’t meet her eyes and he shook his head. ‘No it doesn’t. It was my own silly fault and I don’t want you getting involved. I just had to move a couple of things and I wasn’t careful. I probably got—’ He broke off and Emma waited without speaking. ‘Look, I didn’t see who hit me. I heard footsteps and the next thing I knew I woke up with my mug stuck in the dirt.’
