‘I’m sorry, madam. You have the wrong number.’ Douglas dashed her hopes, not missing a beat. ‘And the wrong town.’
He knew it was her. Damn. She’d blown it. In her mind, it had seemed like an amusing way of introducing a tricky subject. The first night she’d had off call for a month and one glass of wine had wiped out her brain.
She abandoned a bad idea and set down her glass. ‘Douglas. Please may I stay with you?’
‘Sienna. No.’
She tried not to plead. ‘We are old friends. Surely nobody could complain about that. We could have separate rooms.’ Not that she would stay in hers.
‘It wouldn’t look right.’ Calm and reasonable Douglas. ‘People expect certain standards from me. And . . . It’s not happening.’ There was that note of implacability. Geez.
‘You do realise I haven’t slept with anyone since you were here.’
After a long, pointed silence, he said, ‘I’m not sorry to hear that.’ This was Douglas at his driest.
At least that made her smile. ‘So can we get a chaperone?’ A deaf one, preferably. ‘I need to at least spend some time with you. It helps if I can talk about things with someone.’ Now that was a straight-out lie.
‘You are extremely self-sufficient.’ She could hear the smile in his voice. Knew before he spoke that she’d crashed and burned. ‘I don’t believe that.’
Not fair. ‘I can’t believe that I am almost begging to sneak into your bed and you’re knocking me back.’
‘Neither can I.’ This was said very quietly and Sienna’s heart jumped. She mentally rubbed her hands together.
‘Meet me in Roma or Charleville and we could stay the night together and drive back in convoy?’
She heard him sigh. Softly. ‘I’m on duty. On call twenty-four hours, seven days a week and I cover sixty thousand square kilometres.’
Duty schmuty. The guy was too much. Back to his residence. ‘So? A chaperone?’
‘Who did you have in mind?’ he said with extreme reluctance. ‘One of your sisters?’
Nah, that wouldn’t work. ‘Eve’s pregnant with morning sickness. And Callie can’t.’ Her half-sister had a stepson and a one-year-old daughter. ‘What about a housekeeper?’
Douglas had recovered from his weakness. ‘Stay at the Desert Rose. Alma will look after you.’
She felt like stamping her foot. ‘No. I do not want to sleep in a smelly, noisy pub with a shared bathroom.’
‘The Desert Rose Hotel is immaculate and if it gets too noisy I’ll quieten them down,’ he soothed, always the voice of reason.
‘I want to stay with you.’ Now she just sounded childish. Not something the brisk and efficient Dr Wilson was known for, but damn it, Douglas unbalanced her. She didn’t know why and, usually, she was too busy to think about it.
‘Can’t do.’ She heard the finality in his statement and her heart sank. ‘We’ll talk about other ideas. When do you arrive?’
She pulled the phone away from her ear and glared at it. Put it back. ‘Wednesday afternoon.’
‘It might be a little noisy at the pub.’
Was he giving her an in? ‘Right. I can stay the first night with you. Excellent.’
She heard that smile in his voice and he should not be smiling. ‘No. But I will see you after work.’
That’s it, she was over it. ‘You might see me, but I won’t be talking to you.’ Sienna disconnected the call and huffed. She glared at the red wine in the bottom of her glass. ‘Whose dumb idea was that about the brothel?’
Late Wednesday afternoon, after a long day of driving from Roma, more hours of red dirt and bare horizons, Sienna slowed to read a sign on the way into the last outback town before her destination. One more to go.
‘For the next 120 kms you are in the land of the Min Min. This unsolved mystery is a light that at times follows travellers for long distances – it has been approached but never identified.’
Sienna huffed in disbelief, ran her tongue over dry lips and took one hand off the wheel to pick up her water bottle. Those Min Min lights were probably floating around looking for water.
Or sex. That made her think about Douglas and his stupid scruples. Maybe the Min Min was a female ghost doomed to never sleep with her policeman lover. She huffed in disgust again but her mouth twitched.
An hour later she reached the turn that led to the town of Spinifex. Thank goodness because right now her concentration span hung by one of those strands of spiderweb she could see on the wire fences outside town. She drooped, almost too tired to drive safely, even though it was just on six p.m. Who would have thought two days of driving could be more tiring than twelve hours in a hospital delivering babies. And the fact that she hadn’t slept well in Roma hadn’t helped – too blinkin’ quiet.
She slowed down to the speed limit. Imagine if she was caught speeding by you-know-who! She drove grumpily over the bridge of another dry and cracked watercourse. She had to admit the soaring gums were majestic, but it looked more like an orange clay road than the river the sign claimed.
She sighed at the ‘Welcome to Spinifex’ sign. Population three hundred. The town spread before her like an outlined noughts-and-crosses plot on the red-earth bareness.
Yes, well. At least there were some small gum trees on the street, and two strips of short straight tar roads at right angles, but the edges of the town disappeared into the brick-coloured distance.
Dotted houses squatted in the sun on red-dirt petticoats, and for those owners who didn’t shirk intensive labour there was even the occasional tinge-of-green grass underskirt but mostly the roads petered out into more red dirt. Delightful. Not.
She followed the sign to the police station at the western edge of town and spotted the two tiny, neat buildings and blue sign with weary relief.
Her glance in the rear-view mirror reassured her as she touched up her lipstick. Okay, she looked tired, but at least her makeup had stayed in place. She climbed out of the car and stretched, tilting her head from side to side, and flexing her shoulders. A cold drink would not go astray and she hoped Douglas had one waiting for her. She looked up at the huge expanse of azure sky. Not a cloud to be seen. The sky lay empty, and like the building, silent. She sincerely hoped that wasn’t an omen.
Across the road lay a park, bare-earthed and deserted like the one out of Terminator, a swing hanging limply. It lay there perfectly still. She looked back at the quiet building, and in front of the office a sign proclaimed, ‘If the police station is unattended . . .’ It better not be. She had no desire to phone Mount Isa communications as directed. Although, triple zero might be tempting. Surely he’d be here.
She pushed open the door to the police station, heard a bell ring in a back room, which must have been small because the whole building was the size of her car space at home, and waited in anticipation for some appreciation at her arrival.
‘Hellloo?’ There was no response.
Nothing. Sienna sighed and pushed her way out of the building again. She opened the gate to the matching, slightly larger house next door and walked up the cracked concrete front path. There was no grass, nor was there any attempt at a garden remaining. A white piece of paper hung limply, stuck on by a tack to a white board. ‘Glad you arrived safely. Had to go on a call. See you at pub later. D.’
Sienna rested her head on the door and swore softly under her breath.
Chapter Five
Maddy
Maddy paused on the footpath outside the police station residence for a few seconds. She watched the stranger rest her head on the policeman’s door, but she couldn’t stand there looking for too long. She needed to be at work in a few minutes.
The flash car jarred amidst the red dirt and straggly weeds at the side of the tar. The woman, blonde and elegantly tall, looked as if she’d stepped out of one of those fashion magazines Maddy had loved to find on seats in airports when she’d been backpacking.
That world seemed like a lifetime away. Unconsciously, Maddy smoothed her worn
pair of loose trousers and shapeless, long-sleeved top. The one that hid the bruises and the belly. Her decent jeans hadn’t fitted her for ages, but she wished she’d squeezed into them today. She must look like the bag lady Jacob said she did. Today’s not-so-subtle jeer echoed in her ear, and her hand tightened on the satchel swinging on her arm.
Before she could drop her eyes in shame and move on, the woman at the door slumped in frustration and tapped her forehead on the door.
Sympathy rose in Maddy’s chest. Poor thing. Her voice crossed the fading afternoon heat between them. ‘You right there, Miss?’
The woman turned and Maddy saw the face. The startling blue of her eyes, her long, aristocratic nose. Shining blonde hair that had been straightened into a perfect fall to her shoulders. She also saw the arched brows and fresh lipstick and the valiant attempt to push an unsuccessful smile onto her face. Maddy recognised the facial twitch from her own mirror.
‘I’m fine,’ the woman said. ‘Just tired from driving. I don’t suppose you know when Sergeant McCabe might be back?’
Ahh. The Baby Doctor. ‘He left this morning. Shouldn’t be too long, now. Are you the doctor?’
Maddy saw the hesitation. Sensed the fleeting hint that the last thing this woman needed was a medical discussion of some ailment. Maddy would never do that in the street.
She said, ‘Not a general practice doctor, I’m an obstetrician, so not much good with the other sort of illnesses. I’m here to do research, that’s all.’
Research only. That wouldn’t be any help to Maddy, then. She’d thought she might have been able to make an appointment, her being a baby doctor. That fleeting ray of hope shrivelled in the sun like any other hope she seemed to try to hold onto lately. ‘Here to find out why the babies have small heads?’
‘To try. Yes. News travels in small towns.’ The woman nodded and Maddy saw the tiredness swamp her again. For a moment she thought she’d crumple onto the dusty path. ‘I don’t suppose you know where I’m staying?’
Maddy shifted out of the sightline to the woman’s car. She should get out of the sun. Maddy was used to it and even she could feel the hot sting on her skin. ‘At the Desert Rose. Alma’s expecting you.’ She pointed to the only two-storey building in town. ‘It’s cooler up there.’
‘Thanks.’ Sienna dug her keys out of her handbag. Looked up briefly and offered the fake smile again. ‘Sorry. What was your name?’
‘Maddy.’ Maybe she should have said Madison?
‘Thank you, Maddy. Sienna Wilson. Perhaps I’ll see you around.’
Maddy smiled with the first drift of amusement she’d had all day. ‘Most likely. I work at the pub.’
The woman called Sienna blinked. ‘Oh.’ Then she indicated her car. ‘Did you want a lift?’
Maddy glanced down at her old joggers, well-coated in red dust, imagined sitting next to this perfect woman inside her perfect car. Smudging it.
‘No, thanks. I’d rather walk. You should park around the back. At the edge of the parking area there’s a small carport everyone fights over to keep their car out of the sun. First in best dressed.’
The smile the woman gave her felt like a big shiny present. ‘Thanks.’
She watched her drive off slowly. Shook her head at the bulky muscle-car look of the vehicle and the red dust clinging to the shiny blue paint.
Then, as she took her first step, the baby kicked and moved. After that the tightness crept across her belly and her fingers slid down silently to where her skin lay rock hard under the baggy top she wore. The hardness would come and go for a while and then it would drift away.
Like yesterday and the day before.
She glanced at her cheap watch. She needed to get going. At least she had a job. Her work at the pub and Alma’s appreciation seemed to be the only things keeping her normal. Her job gave her the chance to talk to someone other than Jacob, because he didn’t like her going out when she wasn’t at work.
In the past, Jacob had been a little rough, a few jerking grabs, a shake, more ungracious than her memories of her dad, but she’d put that down to Jacob being brought up the hard way. Alma had said his uncle had been a hard man. But Jacob had never been violent, except for that first time after the accident when he’d slapped her and she’d been so shocked.
Though after Tuesday it had improved slightly again, so maybe it would be okay. But she suspected that it wasn’t going to get better and she couldn’t pinpoint how she’d managed to get herself into this situation. It had all started so well. She really did need that plan to get away.
The tears sprang to her eyes again and she brushed them away impatiently. Sook. Her hand stole to cover her belly as she began to walk again towards the pub. She’d been glad the clock had turned to worktime.
And maybe, just maybe, in a couple of days when she knew her better, she might be able to talk to the doctor about her baby.
Chapter Six
Alma
Alma Toms had turned sixty-nine yesterday, but she hadn’t told anyone. She glanced at the low-slung wood-framed mirror on the wall of the Desert Rose Hotel and adjusted her peaked sun visor. Her face was like one of those dry creek beds at the edge of town, all lines and cracks in ochre brown, with crow’s feet at the corners of eyes that’d seen too damn much. White hair notwithstanding, she didn’t look too bad for her age. But, she’d thought she was going to have a heart attack during that last race.
The four-thirty gallops on the telly had been so close – she’d only just missed out on that Big Six again. Hooley dooley, that number six at Doomben had been a ripper. She’d only lost by a nose. She’d jagged four long-odd wins today. More for her savings.
Once, a few years ago and not long after Shirl had died, she’d won that six-race haul by sticking to her system of the horses with the best names and longest odds. She had a tidy bundle stashed away in the bank as a result of it. She used to think she’d move into a big house on a beach somewhere and kick back with her feet up – imagine. Then she’d thought of the crowds of people in the city and shuddered. She couldn’t afford an island of her own, so maybe she’d just stay here for a while longer. Though there was that nice young couple if she ever wanted to sell.
She straightened her apron. She wasn’t going anywhere. This was her pub. Her home. Her life. She glanced at the magnificent stairway that cut the building in two. The bar was on one side, the dining area on the other. She’d fallen in love with that sweep of stepped carpet thirty years ago and she still loved to run her hand down the polished mahogany rail every morning when she came downstairs to start work. All the way from England in a ship, that wood had come.
The heat was a bitch, but she’d lived in the outback forever and this was a nice sensible town. And those occasional winnings were a tidy nest egg. Just in case.
Her drifting thoughts broke off when she saw the smooth arrival of the dusty blue car as it pulled into the yard. She watched it park under the far carport. Nice to see the awning used by a decent car for a change.
A tall blonde climbed slowly out of the driver’s side and Alma’s eyebrows lifted. She took another look at the vehicle and saw the class beneath the dust. One of her regulars was into muscle-car magazines. Had to be the baby doctor. There’d be some discussion around the bar over that beauty parked at the Spinifex Hotel. And the woman who’d arrived in it dressed in high heels and tight skirt for crikey’s sake. Bet she had a matching jacket to go with it. Yep, the woman leaned in and retrieved one to sling over her pinstriped shirt. Alma snorted and couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen someone in a jacket. Last funeral maybe?
Lips twitching, she moved from behind the bar. Better open the side door for her only guest. Blanche Mackay had paid her already to ‘meet the needs of the doctor’. Alma just hoped the woman could help those poor mites.
She watched a pale hand lift a bag from the boot, a blue and shiny hard-shell case reflecting beams in the sunlight. Flash suitcase as well. Alma didn’t judge people, their
lives were their own, but she loved a gossip. There’d be plenty to gossip about for the next short while, Alma thought, mentally rubbing her hands.
The front door creaked behind her and she glanced back to see that Maddy had arrived for work.
Alma had hired many barmaids and backpackers over the years, but she’d never seen as much potential as she saw in young Madison. Medium height, an armful of plumpness that suited her pretty face, though her real weight was hard to tell with the dark baggy clothes she always wore, and hinted at the no-nonsense hard-working country stock from WA. Ruby-red ponytail and a dusting of pretty freckles suited the surprising sense of humour that appeared when you least expected it.
Though, Alma thought darkly, she had her doubts about that man of hers having any sense of humour. Sure, he was a looker, but he had no real wit aside from the occasional smart-arse remark after a few drinks. His uncle had been quick with his hands before he died. So Alma worried a bit about Maddy. If anybody could pick it, the publican could. Especially one who’d lived through what Alma had. But there was nothing she could do until Maddy asked for help.
She suspected why the girl wore long-sleeved shirts. Alma used to wear clothes that covered her arms and legs. Soon she’d ask a few pertinent questions, but so far Maddy had been reserved and Alma was being unusually patient as she waited for the right time. There was a right time for everyone and she wanted to make sure Maddy knew she was here for her when that time arrived.
‘Early again?’
Maddy smiled shyly at her and Alma smiled back. ‘Run up and switch the aircon on in room one, will you? I’ll get the new guest to sign in.’
‘Sure thing.’ Maddy put down the satchel in her hand and scurried up the steps.
The new guest came in on a wave of hot air and almost palpable exhaustion. Alma’s brows rose at the fragility of others. Poor, dehydrated flower. It wasn’t like the doc had ridden a horse from Sydney – geez, she’d just sat in a car. Then, Alma caught herself. Don’t judge. Maybe she’d been delivering babies till all hours. Who knew?
The Baby Doctor Page 4
