The Family Practitioner

by Leah Martyn

  In fact, she thought wryly, if it wasn’t so cramped, she’d have been tempted to put her head down on the steering-wheel and drop off. But then she really would have had a stiff neck in the morning. Her breath came out in a ragged sigh as she pushed herself out of the car, rocking to her feet a bit unsteadily.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d be this late! I’ve been hanging about for ages!’

  The sight of her son, arms folded, feet planted aggressively apart and towering over her, snapped Joanna’s fragile control. ‘Stop sounding like my father, Jason!’ Tossing her bunch of keys to him, she added tetchily, ‘If you want to be helpful, bring my case in.’

  As he’d done dozens of times, Jason brought her medical case in and carefully placed it the hall cupboard. Then, walking soft-footed in his trainers, he came back into the lounge where Joanna sat on the sofa, head lowered, her fingers gently massaging her temples. He ground his bottom lip uncertainly, rocking a bit awkwardly on the balls of his feet. ‘Would you, uh, like a glass of wine?’

  Joanna shook her head. Her nerves were stretched and she was almost brain-dead with fatigue, but she’d hadn’t meant to be so impatient with her son. ‘No, thanks, love.’

  ‘What are we doing for dinner?’

  Joanna groaned inwardly. Teenage boys. Why did their minds continually focus on food and more food? She brought her head up, the corners of her mouth pleating in a trapped smile. ‘There’s a pasta bake in the freezer. We could reheat it in the microwave and make a green salad to go with it.’

  ‘Or we could dial up a pizza.’ Jason gave her a tentative, hopeful grin.

  Joanna palmed her hands in a capitulating shrug. ‘Why not?’

  Jason gave a whoop of triumph. ‘What kind do you want, Mum?’ He already had the cordless phone to his ear.

  ‘You choose.’ Joanna flapped a hand in his general direction and rose to her feet. ‘I’m going to hit the shower.’

  The pizza arrived, de-luxe size and groaning with every topping imaginable. And Joanna was feeling halfway to being human again. Revived from the shower and lashings of her favourite gel, she’d dressed for comfort in a well-worn tracksuit, shoving her feet into a pair of Jason’s football socks. ‘Mmm, that smells delicious.’ She lifted her nose and breathed in appreciatively as Jason peeled back the cardboard lid with a flourish. ‘I might have a glass of wine after all. Want a cola?’ she tossed back over her shoulder, on her way to the fridge.

  ‘Yep—please. Can we eat in front of the telly?’

  ‘What’s on?’

  ‘One of our favourites.’

  ‘Hmm. OK, then.’

  The show eventually came to an end and the credits ran up the screen. ‘Anything else you want to watch?’ Jason sprawled on the carpet, his weight balanced easily on one elbow, a hip and a muscular length of leg.

  Joanna shook her head. ‘Don’t think so.’ Perhaps she’d catch a late news bulletin before she went to bed. Bending forward, she ran a finger playfully up the back of her son’s neck. ‘Sorry I was a bit ratty earlier, Jase.’

  ‘No big deal.’ Jason’s quick turn of his head was accompanied by a forgiving grin. ‘Was it a rough day?’

  ‘Kind of, I suppose.’ Joanna said slowly, thinking about it.

  In one swift movement, he swivelled to face her, bringing his knees up to his chin and wrapping his arms around his shins. He was frowning heavily. ‘I thought you said this job would give you more time to yourself.’

  ‘It will eventually.’ She fiddled with the metal tag on her track-top zipper. ‘But initially, as well as practising, I have to learn and absorb how things are done. It’s a bit like when you began your first year at high school. There’s a lot to get your head around. But once I have the hang of things, I’ll more or less be able to work my own hours.’

  ‘Are you going to like working with—with Matt?’

  A whole slather of butterflies ran riot in Joanna’s stomach. Oh, lord, she thought. Ask me in three months’ time. ‘I can’t see why not,’ she prevaricated instead. ‘How’s school?’ She switched lanes quickly.

  ‘Coach reckons I’m in with a good chance to take the hundred metres at the inter-schools’ track meet.’ Jason was grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘Don’t get too cocky now,’ Joanna warned. ‘It’s big-league stuff we’re talking about here, isn’t it?’

  ‘Pretty big.’ Jason looked down at his feet, a lock of hair flipping down on his forehead. ‘If I win, I get to go the State finals and then to the Nationals—’

  ‘Whoa, there!’ Joanna’s voice was more curt than she’d intended, and Jason sent her a questioning look. Suddenly restless, she swung her feet to the floor and sat watching him. She just hoped her son wasn’t setting himself up to take a huge disappointment if he was beaten for first place. Perhaps she could get Matt to talk to him. She stopped, her heart twisting painfully. Perhaps nothing. At the moment, she felt she couldn’t ask Matt for anything. She scraped up a smile. ‘Your dad always said everything depended on how you performed on the day.’

  ‘Yeah, but if I’m fit and I’ve trained properly, I’ll walk it.’

  Brash, youthful confidence, Joanna thought, getting to her feet. ‘When is it again?’ She bent to gather up the empty pizza box and the crumple of paper serviettes.

  ‘Six weeks from last Friday.’ In one co-ordinated movement, Jason sprang upright. ‘Will you be there?’

  Joanna ran through the time span in her head. By then she should have her workload organised. ‘Wouldn’t miss it.’ She smiled. Carrying the stuff for the bin, she went through to the kitchen.

  ‘Ah…Mum?’ Jason loped after her. ‘Steffi rang. Can we sit with her mum on Saturday night? I said yes but that you’d probably ring her back.’

  In a second Joanna’s hopes for a quiet weekend to recoup her energies nosedived. But she’d offered, hadn’t she? Insisted, really. ‘Of course we can. I’ll give her a call later. Now, you…’ She made a shooing motion with her hand. ‘Homework, please.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Jason sang, sauntering off to his bedroom, seemingly quite happy to be chivvied along.

  Joanna put the kettle on for coffee and then stepped outside onto the back deck. She lent on the railings, looking out. It was a beautiful night, clear and winter-crisp. Tilting her gaze, she looked skywards to where a sliver of moon and necklace of stars looked close enough to touch.

  Recent memories came flooding back. Of the time she’d gone to Featherdale with Matt. It had been a lovely night then, too, with the sprays of moonlight filtering through the trees, the magical glow of the camp fire and the soft plucking of the guitarist to accompany his love song.

  Even now, Joanna could feel the pressure of Matt’s hand as they’d listened, hear the words of the song in her head…

  Her eyes filled and overflowed and she lifted her hands and scrubbed at the tears with the heels of her hands. If Scott hadn’t been injured, would she and Matt have become lovers that night? Would they have come together, clung together, drowning in deep, hungry kisses…?

  Imagining it, she fantasised, moistening her lips, feeling the pleasurable ache at the feminine core of her body.

  It was several moments before she registered the insistent ringing of the telephone. Hastily, she pressed the tips of her fingers to her cheeks as if to rearrange her muscles and hurried inside.

  Hearing the phone ring, Jason had come bounding from his room but stopped short at the doorway, seeing his mother had the call covered.

  Joanna had stepped back into the kitchen, blinking at the sudden glare of light. Suddenly all thumbs, a bit disorientated, she picked up the receiver. ‘Joanna Winters.’

  ‘Joanna, it’s me.’

  ‘Matt…’ Her pulse began to race. Was it too wild to think he’d been looking at the moon and stars like her, fantasising like her? ‘How lovely to hear your voice.’ The words spilled out.

  ‘You heard it only a couple of hours ago.’ His short laugh was gruff but she could tell he was pleas
ed. ‘I’ve just picked up a flyer from the library,’ he continued. ‘The Sydney Symphony Orchestra’s playing Beethoven’s Ninth at the town hall on Saturday evening. I, uh, wondered if you’d like to go with me?’

  ‘Oh, Matt, I’d love to—’

  As she’d said it Matt cut in, responding with a light-hearted rush, ‘Terrific! Perhaps we could grab a late supper afterwards—or come back to my place?’

  ‘Matt…’ Joanna felt as though a giant hand were twisting her heart. ‘You didn’t let me finish. I would love to go but Jason and I have already made plans. I’m sorry…’

  It seemed an eternity before he spoke but she could imagine what he must be thinking—that she’d put Jason before him again. Spanning her fingertips across her forehead, she tried to salvage something, perhaps a shred of his pride. ‘Are they playing only the one performance?’

  ‘Ah, yes. But, look, it’s not a problem.’

  Well, to Joanna it was. She felt terrible, as though she’d thrown stones at him from a great height, wounding him. ‘Matt…’ Her heart squeezed tighter. ‘We could still do something some time. Ask me again.’

  ‘Like in about another five years.’ His voice had a hollow ring. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Joanna.’ He rang off quietly.

  Jason had listened unashamedly from the doorway. Watching his mother replace the handset, he asked quietly, ‘Was that Matt?’

  She looked up at him, her head jerking in a bleak little nod. ‘He invited me a concert on Saturday night.’

  ‘But we’re going to Steffi’s, aren’t we?’ he insisted, ducking his head as if he couldn’t meet her eyes.

  ‘Yes, we are,’ Joanna said, and her voice sounded rusty and unused. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll get your research from Mrs Phillips. Perhaps it might be an idea to take your tape recorder as well.’

  Joanna drove to work the next morning wondering how on earth she was going to cope. A strained atmosphere between Matt and herself wasn’t going to be conducive to the harmony he was so insistent on.

  Perhaps she should get out now, before he got any further with her orientation. He could find another female doctor to fill her place—one who didn’t come with baggage.

  She parked her car and then made her way into the clinic, screwing up her courage to face Matt, but Elle waylaid her. ‘Matt’s at the hospital, operating.’

  ‘He does that?’ Joanna was blown away.

  ‘Sometimes.’ Elle twitched a shoulder. ‘They call him in if there’s an emergency—the tricky ones there’s no time to send on.’

  ‘Oh,’ Joanna croaked, feeling as though she’d walked on stage without her script.

  Elle’s tiger gaze widened fractionally. ‘Matt’s a specialist orthopaedic surgeon. Didn’t he tell you?’

  ‘He must have done,’ Joanna flannelled like mad.

  ‘You couldn’t have been listening.’ Elle gave a quick smile. ‘By the way, congratulations on your diagnosis of Sasha’s problem. We should see a great outcome. Ciao.’ The physio fluttered a wave and continued on her way down the stairs and into Reception.

  Joanna blinked. Elle’s veiled hostility appeared to have vanished and it seemed as though she was ready to accept Joanna as one of the team. Matt must have put her in the picture about Sasha. Well, of course he would have, if the child was still coming for physio. Joanna felt her mood lighten fractionally.

  Going into her office, she found that Matt had left her a detailed list for the day ahead. How like him. He was so ordered about everything. So obviously accepting. So good at plain soldiering on.

  Well, what else had she expected him to do? Yell at her? Start throwing things? She gave a little shake of her head. Of course not. For now, like Matt, she’d soldier on the best way she could, even if it meant dragging her courage up from the floor and just getting on with it.

  When Matt returned from the hospital he was polite and professional, and Joanna ached inside for him—for them. But she could think of nothing to say, think of no way to clear the air, no way to start building bridges.

  And on Saturday evening, She and Jason went to the Phillipses’.

  ‘Mum’s insulin’s due at nine.’ Earnestly, Steffi briefed Joanna for the evening.

  Joanna bit back a smile. ‘I’m sure I’ll manage, Stef.’

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more notice.’ Steffi looked young and pretty in black velvet pants, a cobwebby silk shirt and multicoloured waistcoat. ‘You didn’t have anything planned, did you?’

  ‘Not a thing,’ Joanna lied. She hugged Steffi around the shoulders. ‘I’m so glad you’re having an evening out, Stef. Anyone I know?’

  ‘An old school friend, actually.’ Steffi shoved a few bits and pieces into a soft little purse. ‘Kerry Anderson. She’s been working in England for the last year, but we’ve kept in touch. There’s a group of us meeting for a meal. A few drinks, a few laughs. Should be fun.’

  Joanna’s brown eyes softened. That was just what Steffi needed. Suddenly, it seemed right that she and Jason had become involved with this family.

  ‘His nibs and Mum seem to be getting on like a house on fire.’ Steffi flicked her head towards the lounge room from where Jason’s rapidly fired questions and Corin Phillips’s measured replies could be clearly heard. She winked, swiping up her keys from the hall table. ‘Your son’s a real heartbreaker, isn’t he?’

  ‘You’d better believe it.’ Joanna didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony.

  Sasha arrived for her appointment. Joanna had been seeing her young patient on a weekly basis for several weeks now. Each time they’d used Elle’s office because Joanna had the feeling Sasha was most comfortable there.

  Now, however, Joanna had put her own bits and pieces about her own domain and had made it what she’d termed people-friendly, and today she’d decided she would talk to Sasha there. She was delighted to see her almost jumping out of her skin.

  ‘Hey, this is cool!’ Sasha’s bright gaze went right round the room.

  In her new work environment, Joanna had striven for simplicity. She’d had a rummage round at home and gathered up a few items, like the geranium in an earthenware pot which she’d stencilled with artistic splodges and pretty leaves.

  Her next find had been the upright wicker basket which she’d turned into a table. First she’d got Jason to help her fill it with sand to weigh it down and keep it steady. Then she’d paid a visit to her local DIY store where she’d had a piece of glass cut specially for the top. It was here she’d placed her huge floral arrangement.

  She’d thought long and hard about that. Knowing she couldn’t afford weekly bunches of fresh flowers, she’d decided to mix fresh blooms with artificial and had been more than pleased with the effect she’d created.

  Sasha, too, seemed to approve of the décor wholeheartedly. ‘So, who’s this?’ She skipped across to Joanna’s desk and picked up a framed photograph.

  ‘My son, Jason,’ Joanna’s gaze was gentle on the now bright-eyed Sasha. ‘He attends Blaxland College.’

  ‘Cool.’ Sasha replaced the photograph carefully. ‘I go to Girls’ Grammar.’ She darted away towards the window, angling one knee up on the window-seat to peer out. ‘Check this out! You can see the park from here. And there’s Mum down there, waiting for me.’ She seemed pleased with her discovery.

  ‘Are you going to let me check you out today?’ Joanna asked teasingly. ‘Or is this just a flying visit?’ She began to unravel her sphygmomanometer from its case.

  ‘I’m heaps better.’ Sasha slid into the chair beside Joanna and rolled her sleeve up obligingly.

  Joanna quickly pumped to get a pressure reading. ‘I can see you are.’ A hundred on seventy. Sasha was really on her way. Her pulse of seventy-eight confirmed that her young body was turning itself around quickly. Thank God. Joanna made the notation in her file and then looked up with a query. ‘Things are going well, then?’

  ‘Pretty well.’ Sasha considered. ‘I’m not allowed back at gym yet but I’m
not bothered. Dad says I should switch to ice-skating instead.’

  So her father had become involved. Joanna was relieved and delighted for the young girl. ‘Does that appeal to you?’

  ‘Kind of. You have to be really strong in your legs for that. And I am. Or I will be again soon,’ she added with youthful confidence.

  ‘And with your gymnastics training for balance and so on, it would be a natural progression to skating, wouldn’t it?’ Joanna was glad she’d boned up on her subject before Sasha’s visit.

  ‘Oh, I can skate already,’ the youngster dismissed airily. ‘It’s a cool sport and the costumes are excellent. Nicer than gym wear.’

  Such was the inconstancy of youth. Joanna schooled her expression before she said cautiously, ‘There’s something else, Sasha. I’ve had a chat with your mum about it but the decision is ultimately yours. I’d like to start you on a low-dosage contraceptive pill to regulate your periods.’

  Sasha’s eyebrows touched her white-blonde fringe. ‘I haven’t got them back yet.’

  ‘And you probably won’t until you put on at least three or four more kilos.’

  Sasha seemed to be thinking. ‘So, would I have to take the pill for ever?’

  ‘No, of course not. Only until your system’s back on track. Your hormones are all over the place at the moment. But even when everything is regulated again, don’t take it on yourself to just stop taking the Pill,’ Joanna warned. ‘Come and talk to me first and we’ll work out a plan for you to ease back gradually. That’s very important, Sasha. So, no cold turkey, OK?’

  ‘OK.’ Sasha’s gaze flicked towards Jason’s photograph. ‘Is your son going to be a doctor like you?’

  ‘Don’t think so.’ Joanna’s little chuckle was dry. ‘I think he sees himself as some kind of high-profile sportsperson earning lots of money.’

  ‘That would be so cool!’

  Joanna twitched a hand. ‘Don’t roll your sleeve down yet. We have to take another blood sample today.’

  ‘Why are we doing this again?’ Sasha gritted her teeth, watching ghoulishly as Joanna pricked a vein and drew out the blood.