Rivals in Practice

by Alison Roberts

  ‘Shh!’ Jennifer warned gently as she held out her arms. ‘Mr Stephenson still isn’t feeling that well.’

  ‘His name’s Drew,’ the twins chorused. ‘Sass told us.’

  Jennifer was startled. She turned to Andrew. ‘You don’t want the children calling you that, do you?’

  Andrew returned the glance calmly. ‘Sounds fine to me.’ He wanted to ask why the children called her by her name but Jennifer looked rather distracted.

  Jennifer was distracted. Totally. She was only half listening to the girls’ chatter about the day’s excitement. She had never called Andrew ‘Drew’. It had been a name reserved for his friends at medical school and Jennifer had never been invited to use the diminutive. But, then, she’d never offered him the use of the abbreviation of her own name. Andrew had always called her Jennifer. Apart from the other night when she’d brought him home and he’d been completely out to lunch by then, judging by the other rubbish he’d been talking. Jennifer had had a fair bit of talking to do later in order to convince Saskia there had been nothing at all going on between them. Ever!

  ‘It’s going to be in it tomorrow,’ Sophie was telling Jennifer. ‘Can we get one in the morning before we go to school?’

  ‘I want one for news,’ Jess added.

  ‘No, I do.’

  ‘Perhaps you can share,’ Jennifer suggested automatically, wondering what on earth the girls were, in fact, talking about.

  ‘Can we have one each?’ Jess asked. ‘Please?’

  ‘Um…’ Jennifer’s rescue came in the shape of the tall boy who entered the bedroom. He was pulling the red trolley, which contained two younger children this time. A short brown and white dog squeezed past the trolley and shot into the room. The tabby cat promptly but calmly leapt onto the bed and dived beneath the duvet. Andrew blinked and his face took on a vaguely incredulous expression.

  ‘Hi, Mike.’ Jennifer looked over the pleading faces of the girls. ‘I suppose you want one as well?’

  ‘One what?’ The boy slid a quick glance at Andrew and then stared at his feet. The pause was enough for the twins to rescue Jennifer this time.

  ‘A newspaper!’ they shrieked happily. ‘With our picture in it!’

  ‘Oh, that.’ Michael shrugged. ‘The guy only wanted to take it because of Saskia’s purple hair.’

  ‘No, he didn’t. He wanted all of us.’ Sophie’s lower lip jutted ominously.

  ‘How many people are in the photograph?’ Jennifer asked quickly. ‘Was it the whole school?’

  ‘No. Just us and Saskia.’

  ‘We stopped by the hospital to say hello on the way home,’ Jessica explained. ‘But you’d already left. They were getting ready to chop up that tree that fell in the driveway and the man from the newspaper got us to sit on it to show how big it was.’

  The toddler climbed out of the red trolley, leaving the fat baby wobbling precariously. ‘There was a big truck,’ he told Jennifer importantly. ‘With a spoon.’

  ‘It was a bulldozer, Angus,’ Sophie corrected her brother. She lifted the baby with some difficulty. ‘It came to clean up the tree.’

  ‘Oh, good.’ Jennifer took the baby from the small girl. She’d been trying to organise the tree’s disposal for two days but there had been a queue in the urgent clean-ups required in the aftermath of the storm. ‘So!’ She jiggled the baby and smiled at the children. ‘You’re all going to have your picture in the paper. How exciting! We’ll have to get an extra copy to send to your dad.’

  Andrew’s jaw dropped noticeably. So Dad didn’t live here? It must have been a recent exit. The fat baby Jennifer was holding was Vanessa, wasn’t it? The six-month-old? And the split must have been remarkably amicable. Jennifer looked even more pleased than the children at the prospect of sending such an interesting missive.

  A faint shout from another region of the house caused the children to race for the door. The speed with which they exited the room amazed Andrew. The small dog skidded in his eagerness to catch up but Elvis hadn’t twitched a muscle. Jennifer laughed.

  ‘It’s afternoon teatime,’ she told Andrew. ‘I just hope Saskia hasn’t been baking today.’ Her voice dropped to a confidential whisper. ‘Saskia’s biscuits are like small bricks.’

  Andrew summoned a faint smile. ‘You’ve got a lot of kids,’ he said slowly.

  ‘I know. But it wasn’t exactly by choice.’ Jennifer grinned before Andrew could query the odd statement. ‘Still, I wouldn’t part with any of them but I’m sure they’re a bit tiring for you at the moment. Especially en masse. I’ll try and keep the visits down for a day or two but I’m afraid you’re proving a rather irresistible novelty.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’ Andrew was surprised to find this was a true statement. ‘I like them.’

  Jennifer beamed. ‘They’re great kids,’ she said proudly. ‘I always wanted a big family but it was a bit of a surprise to get them so fast.’

  ‘I’m sure it was,’ Andrew agreed carefully. ‘I’m amazed you got through your houseman and registrar years with a baby to look after.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t have any of them then,’ Jennifer said lightly.

  Andrew wondered if the wave of confusion was due to his weakened physical state. ‘I don’t understand,’ he confessed finally. ‘Michael’s eight, isn’t he?’

  ‘Nearly nine,’ Jennifer confirmed. A smile of comprehension lit her features. ‘You didn’t think they were my kids, did you?’

  ‘Of course I did,’ Andrew said irritably. He didn’t like the feeling of having been misled. ‘Whose children are they, then?’ he demanded.

  ‘My sister’s.’ Jennifer wasn’t about to go into detailed explanations. She didn’t like the way Andrew was demanding information. He was clearly feeling much more like himself. Then she sighed. He could be forgiven for being curious. ‘Except for this one,’ she added, jiggling the baby again. ‘Vanessa is Saskia’s daughter.’

  ‘What?’ Andrew was horrified. ‘She’s only a child herself.’

  ‘She’s seventeen,’ Jennifer told him. ‘I found her sitting on the beach when she was about four or five months pregnant. Her family had kicked her out and she’s been living with us ever since.’

  ‘And your sister? Where’s she living?’

  ‘She’s not.’ Jennifer looked away. ‘She died over a year ago.’

  Andrew stared at Jennifer’s closed face. She didn’t want to talk about it so he wasn’t going to push. There was something else he really wanted to know, however.

  ‘What about Hamish? Are you still married to him?’

  ‘I never was.’

  ‘But you were engaged. Right through medical school.’

  Jennifer sighed heavily. ‘It’s a long story.’ She shrugged. ‘I need to go downstairs. It’s time I helped the children with their homework and Vanessa here needs her bath.’ She turned away. ‘You should rest.’

  Andrew waited until Jennifer had almost reached the door before he spoke quietly.

  ‘Jen?’

  She turned sharply. Andrew wasn’t delirious now. And he hadn’t called her Jennifer.

  ‘I’d really like to hear your story.’

  ‘It’s my business,’ she responded coolly. ‘Just like it’s your business why you’ve given up being a doctor.’

  Andrew almost smiled. Was she paying him back for being uncooperative? Was this another ‘anything you can do, I can do better’ game? They’d played that one often enough in the past. Maybe he hadn’t been blissfully engaged throughout their medical school careers but he’d paraded enough female companions to ensure that Jennifer had never realised how empty his love life had really been.

  ‘I’ll make you a deal,’ he offered softly. ‘We’ll swap stories.’ He caught his breath. Was Jennifer even interested in his recent past? She had opened the door now but hadn’t moved her feet. The internal debate she was having was reflected in her face. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

  ‘Just tell me one thing, Andrew. Where’s your wife?
’

  ‘I haven’t got one. I’m not married. I never was.’

  ‘Then why did you say you were on your honeymoon?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’ Andrew resisted the urge to smile triumphantly. ‘And you need to go downstairs.’

  ‘I’ll be back.’

  Andrew let his head sink back onto his pillows. Elvis stretched himself and sighed with heartfelt canine contentment. Tigger settled himself more comfortably against his chest and a deep rumbling purr started up. Andrew felt at one with both his guests.

  Jennifer wasn’t married to Hamish Ryder.

  The children weren’t hers.

  And she was coming back.

  Suddenly, Andrew couldn’t think of anywhere else in the world that he would rather be right now.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE urgency had gone.

  The aftermath of the crises the storm had brought could have left Jennifer feeling drained. Instead, she was curiously content. The shake-up her world had experienced was over and the pieces were settling into a familiar, if somewhat improved shape.

  The hours of consultation time this afternoon had been very ordinary. She’d seen a toddler with an ear infection, old Mr Bates who had prostate problems and Mrs Scallion who needed to start medication to control her high blood pressure. Alice Hogan, an excited young farmer’s wife from Pigeon Bay, came in to have her long-awaited pregnancy confirmed and Edith Turner’s leg was healing as well as could be expected. The older woman now had torches placed strategically around her house so she wouldn’t trip over anything in the event of another power cut. Sam McIntosh came in after school for a check-up and was showing no evidence of any repercussions from his head injury. Jennifer invited him to come and play with the twins the next day.

  ‘It’s Saturday, so you can come for lunch and stay as long as you like,’ she told Sam. ‘If this fine weather keeps up we might get Button’s saddle out and give him some exercise.’

  ‘Isn’t it lovely to see some sun again?’ Sam’s mother, Jill, was picking up her son’s coat and schoolbag. She glanced at Jennifer. ‘Are you sure it’s OK for Sam to come over tomorrow?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want you to get overloaded with visitors, especially at mealtimes.’

  ‘It won’t make any difference at all,’ Jennifer assured her.

  ‘I saw that camper van going down the road yesterday. Has that Dr Stephenson gone home, then?’

  ‘Not yet. The rental company sent someone to collect the van.’

  ‘Oh.’ Jill looked thoughtful. ‘I guess he’s stuck here for a while, then.’

  ‘Not necessarily. He can always catch a bus. There’s just not much point paying a hundred dollars a day for a van that’s not being used.’

  ‘No,’ Jill agreed. She didn’t appear to be in a hurry to leave. ‘I heard he was pretty sick.’

  ‘He was. It’s going to take him a few days to get back on his feet.’

  ‘I also hear he’s an old friend of yours. From medical school.’ Jill’s gaze was suspiciously eager.

  ‘That’s right.’ Jennifer’s response was cautious. She knew the gathering of parents at child collection time after school provided ample opportunity for the exchange of news and gossip, but just how much information had Saskia been sharing? Or the children for that matter. At least Sam was keen to get home. He was tugging at his mother’s hand.

  ‘I guess you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Jennifer merely smiled.

  ‘Come on, Mum. I’m hungry.’

  ‘See you tomorrow, Sam.’ Jennifer followed them out of the consulting room. She wanted to collect her inpatient files from the office and do a quick ward round. Jill McIntosh had no idea how correct her statement had been, she reflected. She and Andrew did have a lot of catching up to do. They had even made a deal to do just that but that had been two days ago and no opportunity had presented itself. Andrew was out of bed for short periods now but there always seemed to be children around. Especially the twins. The novelty of a captive audience was too good to pass up. Drew had to be shown the wonderful picture of them all in the newspaper—several times. He was required to listen to reading homework and to watch how clever Zippy the terrier cross was at fetching tennis balls.

  Artistic creations in the form of get-well cards and presents were being delivered at a rate of knots. The after-school effort yesterday had involved cardboard boxes, glue, dried pasta shells and poster paint. Michael’s lack of contribution had been more than made up for by Angus, and the time the adults could have had alone after dinner had been spent washing paint from both the three-year-old’s hair and Zippy’s wiry coat. By the time the children had all been in bed, Andrew had also been asleep and Jennifer had been loath to disturb him. He needed rest more than anything else at present.

  Besides, the urgency had gone. Andrew hadn’t seemed bothered by the fact he was stranded without his own transport. He had offered to move himself into the shearer’s cottage where Jennifer had stored his belongings or into a motel, but Jennifer had informed him she was quite happy sharing the enormous bedroom the twins occupied. He was to stay right where he was until she was satisfied his condition was vastly improved.

  ‘You’re still my patient,’ she told Andrew sternly. ‘I’m not going to have my reputation as a doctor in this town shot down by you collapsing in the street. Or some motel.’

  Andrew’s acquiescence had been surprisingly forthcoming. ‘Just for a day or two,’ he agreed. ‘I’ll be back on my feet properly by then.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Jennifer promised. It was her professional duty to make sure that Andrew stayed around until he had recovered after all, both from his illness and his leg injury. She was quite sure it would take somewhat longer than just a day or two. And Jennifer was happy that she had the situation well under control.

  Her inpatients in the hospital were also under control. Mrs Dobson had received a new supply of talking books from the mobile library service and was happy to sit listening for hours at a time. Lester’s pain levels were becoming more tolerable and he was keen to get home to his family. Elizabeth Bailey was ready to go home as well. Jennifer’s final duty for the day was discharging the young mother and her baby. She followed the proud parents out to the car park where they fussed over securing the infant car seat.

  ‘Bye-bye, Brooke.’ Jennifer blew a kiss towards the baby before smiling at Liz. ‘Sue will be in to visit you for the next few days to see how you’re coping at home. Call me if you’re worried about anything, otherwise I’ll see you at Brooke’s six-week check-up.’

  She waved them off with a smile. Jennifer hadn’t been surprised that the baby’s father, Peter, had hated the suggestion of Storm for his daughter’s name. In today’s sunshine it would have seemed even more inappropriate. The Baileys’ car turned carefully onto the road past a familiar vehicle waiting to turn in. Jennifer watched Brian Wallace climb out of his car.

  ‘You’re back early, Brian. I thought they were going to run all sorts of tests on you in the cardiology department.’

  ‘They did—very efficiently. X-ray, ECG, echo, exercise test and bloods. And a consultation. I was most impressed.’

  ‘And? What did they say?’

  ‘I’m on a semi-urgent waiting list for an angiogram. I might need a repeat angioplasty or possibly bypass grafting.’ Brian scowled. ‘I guess I failed my exercise test.’

  ‘What was the result?’ Jennifer walked beside Brian towards the front entrance of the hospital. ‘How long did you walk for?’

  The response was a deliberate mumble. Jennifer grinned. ‘How long?’

  ‘Ninety seconds,’ Brian growled.

  ‘And why was it terminated?’

  ‘Bit of chest tightness.’

  ‘Any ST depression?’

  ‘A bit.’ Brian wasn’t slowing down as he pulled the door open. ‘I could murder a cup of tea. I wonder if Ruby’s done any baking.’

  �
��Don’t try and change the subject, Brian. I’ll be having a copy of the results sent to me anyway. How much ST depression did you get?’

  ‘Four millimetres. Maybe five.’

  Jennifer bit her lip. The test had been very positive, then. Blood supply to Brian’s heart had diminished sharply with minimal exercise and he was getting angina at rest. ‘You should be on an urgent list for a cardiac catheterisation.’

  ‘They don’t have too much of a waiting list. I should get an appointment within a few weeks. I’m not in any hurry to find out bad news.’ Brian looked over his shoulder briefly. ‘How’s everything been here?’

  ‘No problems.’ Jennifer recognised that she had received as much information as she was going to get for the moment. ‘That was Liz and Peter taking the baby home that you passed on the way in. Lester’s doing well—we can probably discharge him in a day or two—and Mrs Dobson has received enough talking books to keep her happy for weeks. Nothing exciting at the clinic but I’ve started Mrs Scallion on a beta blocker.’

  ‘Have the results come back on her fasting glucose levels?’

  ‘No. I was going to ring the lab about that.’

  ‘I’ll do it.’ Brian was heading for the kitchens. ‘After my cup of tea. Ah, Ruby!’ Brian smiled at the tiny woman in the large white apron. ‘That’s not one of your famous chocolate cakes by any chance, is it?’

  ‘It is,’ Ruby acknowledged proudly. ‘But I’m not sure if you’re allowed any on your diet, Dr Wallace.’

  ‘There’s some nice crackers in the pantry,’ Jennifer suggested innocently. ‘And plenty of cottage cheese in the fridge.’

  ‘Go home,’ Brian told his junior colleague. ‘I refuse to be ordered around any more today. At least, not until I get home and Pat starts bossing me about. This is the one place I’m still in charge and I intend to make the most of it. Ruby, love, pour me a cup of tea and let me enjoy a small slice of that cake.’

  Jennifer gave in gracefully. Brian had insisted on taking call tonight and she hadn’t argued about that either. The new problems he was facing with his health were enough of a blow without her damaging his pride further by trying to edge him away from the front line of the career he loved so much. While Brian had been very impressed with the way Jennifer had handled the crises during the storm, the fact that he’d been considered unfit to participate had distressed him deeply. The older doctor was being forced to consider his future seriously right now, and while Jennifer could do her best to ease his professional workload she couldn’t take over. Brian had been quite correct in his statement. He was the senior half of the partnership and he was still in charge.