by Lucy Clark
CHAPTER FOUR
GIL didn’t see either Phemie or her brother until that evening when he met them in the dining carriage. Euphemia had introduced him to Anthony in the train terminal and, of course, that meant he’d had to meet all of Anthony’s friends and their carer—Liz.
Gil had been incredibly impressed that this group of adults, all with Down’s syndrome, were travelling and exploring their own country. For people without a disability, sometimes the idea of stepping outside their comfort zone was something so terrifying they never even tried it and yet to see them openly embracing something new, something different and enjoying themselves really warmed his heart.
‘I want to go to London one day and do lots of stuff,’ Anthony had confessed when Phemie had explained that Gil was from England and that was why he ‘talked funny’, as Anthony had termed it. ‘Mum and Dad have gone, haven’t they, Phemie? They’re doing heaps of cool stuff, aren’t they, Phemie?’
‘They are. They’re cruising in Europe,’ she supplied for Gil’s sake.
‘They send me postcards and stuff. I sent them postcards, too. I sent Phemie a postcard, too. I chose it all by myself and posted it in Adelaide.’
‘Very clever,’ Gil praised. ‘I’m sure you picked just the right one for your big sister.’
‘It had flowers on it and other pretty stuff. Phemie likes flowers, don’t you, Phemie?’
‘I do.’ She’d kissed Anthony’s cheek and smiled lovingly at him. Gil couldn’t help the pang of envy that passed through him. He’d been raised by nannies and strict boarding-school masters, his parents more intent on their careers than on him.
He’d left them then, heading out of the station to stretch his legs whilst Phemie and Liz settled Anthony and his friends in for the next part of their journey. Gil was thankful he had the ability to be quite attentive to what was going on around him while indulging in a daydream. It wasn’t something he’d done since his senior school days when he’d wished himself anywhere but at boarding school.
Today, however, he’d found himself thinking about Phemie. What type of woman worked in the outback of a vast country? What type of woman rearranged her schedule to accommodate her brother, even if it meant she ended up exhausted before presenting at a medical conference? What type of woman had the ability to look into his eyes and make him feel as though his life was simply a shell of an existence?
He knew he’d locked himself away when June and Caitie had been cruelly ripped from his life in that plane crash but he’d always thought he’d hid it well. Phemie would have no idea what had happened in his personal life yet she had the ability to look at him and make him want more.
That wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t do more. He’d tried to have a normal life. He’d met a woman, married her, settled down, become a father to a gorgeous baby girl and it had all been cruelly snatched from him. He’d tried it and it hadn’t worked. No. He didn’t do more.
Gil stopped by the dining table where Phemie was cutting food into smaller pieces.
‘Phemie’s doing my food,’ Anthony said proudly. ‘She does it the best. Mum does it next best and Dad does it bestest after that. Liz doesn’t do it best at all.’ The last was spoken in a sort of stage whisper yet Anthony’s volume still radiated quite clearly.
‘And what about you?’ Phemie prompted. ‘How good are you at preparing your own food?’
‘I am the king at doing my food and lots of other stuff but I like it when Phemie does it because she does it best. It’s good stuff.’
Gil smiled at the young man and watched as Phemie finished what she was doing. ‘It does appear your big sister knows exactly how you like your food,’ Gil commented, then looked around. ‘Where are your friends, Anthony?’
‘I was first,’ Anthony replied with a mouth half-full, and received a scolding from his sister. ‘Sorry, Phemie,’ he replied, then swallowed. ‘I was first,’ he repeated.
‘They’re all on their way here,’ she supplied, and pointed to the empty diners’ counter. ‘So if you want to order something to eat, now would be the best time to do it.’
‘Good to know.’ Still Gil didn’t move. He also noticed that Phemie didn’t have any food in front of her. ‘Have you already eaten? Can I get you something?’
‘I’m fine. I’m not that hungry.’
‘I can get you a cup of tea,’ he offered, and Phemie smiled politely. ‘I’m sure they have a rich-bodied Australian tea.’ He couldn’t help but punctuate his words with a quick wink. The instant he’d done it, he silently scolded himself. What was he doing? Was he flirting with her? In front of her brother? In front of a carriage of other passengers? It was so unlike him yet the instant she smiled at him he felt as though he’d been rewarded. She’d allowed him to continue sharing their private joke.
‘Thank you, Gil, but I’m fine.’ She paused for a moment, teasing confusion peppering her brow. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve actually drunk the tea they serve here? I thought you were Thermos man with your Earl Grey?’
Gil’s smile was bright and natural as he nodded. ‘My dishwater, you mean.’ He received a chuckle from her. ‘You’re absolutely right, Phemie. I am very particular about my tea. I do like it just—so.’
Gil glanced at Anthony and then looked back to Phemie, his tone dropping a notch. ‘What about later this evening? We could meet in the lounge car again and this time try to make it through a conversation without anyone else pulling the emergency cord.’
‘Never, never pull the emergency cord,’ Anthony chimed in.
‘Mouth full,’ Phemie pointed out, and he quickly mumbled an apology before swallowing. ‘Uh…I think I’m going to be rather busy tonight so I’ll have to pass.’
Gil nodded. ‘Then our date for tea at the end of the first day’s session must stand.’
Phemie wasn’t too sure how wise it would be to continue any sort of personal relationship with Gil once they disembarked. On the train, it was as though they were in some sort of stasis where the rest of the world and the rules that surrounded it didn’t apply. They were simply doctors, doctors who had worked together to help people. They were two people who seemed to have some sort of crazy gravitational pull towards each other. They were equals—and she knew once they arrived in Sydney and went their separate ways, everything would change. As it should. He was Professor Gilbert Fitzwilliam and she was an outback emergency doctor.
He lived in London, in the middle of one of the world’s busiest cities. She lived on an RFDS base in the middle of nowhere. It gave a whole new meaning to ‘worlds apart’.
At the moment, however, she felt crowded, confused and conscious that Anthony was paying them a lot of attention. He might not completely understand what they were saying and why, but she’d learned of old not to underestimate him. The last thing she needed right now was to try and explain her relationship with Gil to her brother. The fact that she didn’t understand her relationship with Gil only made the situation more puzzling.
‘Sounds great,’ she agreed—anything to get him to leave.
‘Excellent.’ The train carriage door opened and all of Anthony’s friends came traipsing in, bringing noise with them.
‘I was first,’ Anthony called, this time remembering to swallow his mouthful of food before speaking. He looked at Phemie and received praise for his actions.
Gil looked from Phemie to Anthony to the plethora of people who had just entered the dining carriage and then back at Phemie. He nodded politely. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’
‘Thanks. Have a good evening,’ she said, unable to look away as he left the carriage. Gil smiled at Anthony’s friends and nodded to Liz as he shuffled past them. Phemie’s gaze travelled over his broad firm shoulders, his straight back, his muscled thighs and tried not to recall how incredible it had felt to have that gorgeous body pressed to her own. The sigh that escaped her lips was unintentional.
‘Now, that’s a sizzling look,’ Liz pointed out, sitting next to Anthony. ‘That man i
s pure sex on legs, Phemie. Why on earth aren’t you following him out of here?’
‘What’s sex on legs?’ Anthony asked and Phemie glared at Liz, who only laughed in return.
‘All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t kick him out if—’
‘I get the picture.’ Phemie held up her hands, indicating she wanted the present topic to end. She focused on her brother. ‘Would you like something else to eat, love?’ She needed normalcy, not ideas put in her head with regard to Gil Fitzwilliam. The man may indeed be sex on legs, as Liz had said, but that was beside the point.
No matter how sexy any man was, no matter how he might make her feel, no matter how her thoughts and body went haywire when he was around, it would all be meaningless in the end. Long-term relationships weren’t for her. Marriage wasn’t for her. Having her own children was something she could never do.
Whilst she loved and adored her brother completely, there was no way she was going to risk becoming pregnant and giving birth to a child with Down’s syndrome. After Anthony had been born, her mother had looked further into Down’s syndrome and discovered she was a carrier of the translocation trisomy 21 chromosome. This defective chromosome usually related to children being born with Down’s. Her parents had both been tested and so had Phemie. It wasn’t until she had been older and in medical school that her parents had told her she, too, was a carrier of the defective chromosome. There was an increased risk Phemie would give birth to a child with Down’s syndrome. No way was she going to subject an innocent child to a life like that and even though she hated to admit it, she couldn’t be a parent to a child with a disability.
She’d lived that life. She’d watched her parents for years, their long-suffering patience almost running out on several occasions. The way they hadn’t been able to pay the proper attention to her because of Anthony, the way they’d had to rely on her to take up the slack. Phemie felt as though she’d aged prematurely, especially throughout her teenage years when her mother had undergone treatment for ovarian cancer. Her father had almost fallen apart, his soul being slowly destroyed each time her mother had needed another dose of chemotherapy or a blood transfusion. Anthony’s care had fallen to her and as such, she’d never experienced the normal teenage things. There had been no time for parties, no time for experimenting, no time for boyfriends. She’d been a surrogate mother to her sibling.
Thankfully, the chemotherapy had worked and her mother was now in very good health, but those years had taken their toll on Phemie. She loved her family, more than anything and if she’d had to do it all over again, she would, but there were still traces of resentment flowing through her veins. She’d vowed never to put a child of her own through what she’d been through and the only way to ensure that never happened was never to have children.
Caring for others was what she was good at and that was what she was busy doing. Working in the outback, caring for the community, helping others in any way she could. Those were the choices she’d made and she was determined to stick to them. The emotions Gil Fitzwilliam evoked deep within her could mean nothing to her.
Phemie helped Anthony and his friends for the rest of the evening, ensuring everyone was in the right seat and comfortable when it was time to turn out the lights and go to sleep.
She and Liz chatted quietly for a while, though fatigue claimed her friend and soon Phemie found herself sitting in a carriage full of sleeping people, yet she herself was wide awake…awake and, for some strange reason, unable to stop thinking about Gil.
Deciding she may as well stretch her legs as opposed to sitting there staring into the dark, she carefully left the carriage, heading towards the lounge car. It was now about one o’clock in the morning and she wondered whether Gil might be there, might be waiting for her, hoping she’d changed her mind.
Anticipatory delight coursed through her as she drew nearer to the lounge car. Would he be there? She wasn’t sure exactly what it was about Gil Fitzwilliam—Professor Gilbert Fitzwilliam—she mentally corrected herself—that had her in such a tizz.
Of course she appreciated his medical genius. She’d read all his papers and agreed with what he’d written. She’d marvelled at the research he’d undertaken and the medical breakthroughs he’d made to date. She was definitely attracted to his intellect but, then, what doctor wouldn’t be? The man was incredible.
And incredibly good-looking too, a little voice said.
There was no point in denying—especially to herself—the way she felt when she was in Gil’s presence. There was something about him, something that seemed to affect her in a way she’d never been affected before. Was it his looks or was it more than that? Perhaps it was the way he made her feel as though she were the genius.
Of course, she admitted to herself, the reason she’d been unable to sleep had nothing at all to do with the seats and everything to do with Gil. So here she was. Pushing open the door to the lounge car, eager and nervous at the same time to see whether or not he was around.
Walking through, ensuring the door closed firmly behind her, Phemie headed into the carriage, checking the first small recess where three ladies were all sitting and talking about their travel experiences. Two other people had their laptops plugged in and were busy staring at the screens.
Phemie moved on to the next recess, her mouth now completely dry, her heart pounding in triple time against her chest. Would he be there? If he was, what would she say to him? Oh. She hadn’t thought this through. What if he thought she was chasing him? Stalking him? Her step faltered and she thought about turning back but forced herself to go on.
Two more steps and she was at the next recess, her gaze eagerly scanning the area and the four people sitting there. Her heart fell and her shoulders sagged.
None of them were Gil.
He wasn’t there.
She was stupid.
It was the mantra which had been on constant replay through her head since she’d returned to her seat and forced herself to close her eyes and at least pretend to sleep. Professor Gilbert Fitzwilliam wasn’t interested in her. In the social circles he mixed in she was way, way down at the bottom of the ladder. Just a girl he’d met on a train. That’s all she was and she wished the silly, wistful side of her would recognise that fact.
It wasn’t that she was after any sort of romantic relationship but she had to admit it had been nice to have a man look intently at her the way Gil had. He’d made her heart flutter, her stomach churn with anticipation and her knees go weak. That hadn’t happened to her since high school when Danny Ellingham, the boy she’d had a secret crush on, had asked her to the school dance.
Of course, her parents had insisted she attend the dance, even though her mother’s health hadn’t been too good. It was one night, a few hours, she’d rationalised to herself as she’d dressed in the prettiest gown she’d been able to afford. What could possibly happen in a few hours?
A lot, it had turned out, although not where her parents and Anthony were concerned. They’d all made it through those hours yet for Phemie, that night had been one that had changed her life for ever.
Everything went according to plan. Danny picked her up from her home, chatted a few minutes with her father at the door. He was polite, he held her hand and proudly walked into the dance with his arm around her. She felt so happy and yet highly self-conscious. People were looking at the two of them, whispering about them, and some girls even had a hint of envy in their eyes. Danny was, after all, a good-looking guy. Joan Glastonbury, however, glared daggers at her. Phemie knew the other girl also liked Danny, but for tonight at least Danny had chosen her.
They danced, they talked and it seemed to be the night of her dreams. She’d liked Danny for a long time, sitting beside him in maths, being his lab partner in science, but she’d always thought he’d viewed her as nothing but a straight A student who could help him out from time to time. When he’d asked her to the dance, she’d been stunned but of course had said yes immediately. It wasn’t until n
earer the end of the night that she realised she knew very little about him.
Tommy Spitzner, the smartest boy in the school, had brought his cousin to the dance, a plump girl who had Down’s syndrome.
‘My parents made me bring her to the dance,’ Tommy confessed when they had both been getting drinks. ‘I don’t mind. Lerleen’s great and we get along fine.’ Tommy laughed without humour. ‘In fact, I think Lerleen’s the one who brought me to the dance. My parents knew I didn’t want to come but they keep telling me I’m too insular and said perhaps I should think of someone other than myself, etcetera, and now here I am at the stupid dance with my cousin.’
Both of them had looked over to where Lerleen was dancing by herself to the loud rock music. It was then that Phemie watched in horror as Danny and a few of his mates walked over to Lerleen and started teasing her. They pretended to ask her to dance then laughed and made rude comments when she eagerly accepted. Phemie’s blood boiled over.
She’d marched over to Lerleen and stood next to the girl.
‘Leave her alone.’ She looked Danny square in the eyes, almost begging him to tell her it hadn’t been his idea, that he’d been trying to stop the others, that he wasn’t a part of it.
‘We’re just having a laugh,’ Danny replied. ‘It doesn’t matter, Pheme. She doesn’t go to this school and I don’t think she even understands.’
‘She may not, but I certainly do. Just because Lerleen has a disability doesn’t make her any less of a person than you or I. She has feelings, she has rights and if you lot get excited by teasing and bullying people, especially ones who have a natural disposition to trust everyone they meet, then you’re sadder than I thought.’
Tommy had come over and was guiding Lerleen away from the gathering crowd.
‘You don’t even know her,’ Danny’s friend pointed out.
‘It doesn’t matter. Picking on people is wrong and it most certainly isn’t a means of fun, either.’ She looked at Danny and shook her head. ‘I can’t believe you’d do something like this. You don’t know what sort of damage you’ve caused that poor girl.’
