by Amy Andrews
The back door opened and startled her out of her reverie. The usual ragtag crowd jostled through the staffroom, laughing and joking, crowing over who’d won and who’d shot the most baskets.
Charlie and Joe trooped in after them. Joe grinned at her, gulped down a cold bottle of water from the fridge and burped loudly. ‘Needed that.’ He winked at her. ‘Gotta go, Charles. See you next week, Carrie.’
Carrie smiled. ‘See ya, Joe.’ She watched Joe leave the room and noticed how he signalled to Charlie with his index finger as if indicating the number one and then shot him a thumbs-up. Did he mean Charlie only had to put up with her for one more week?
Charlie rolled his eyes at his friend. ‘See you over the weekend.’ He was pleased when Joe left. He was more than aware that Carrie had caught Joe’s sign language even if she did look baffled as to its meaning.
Carrie waited for the door to close. ‘If you think I’ll be done in a week, I think you’ll be disappointed. You are an incredibly bad bookkeeper.’
Charlie chuckled. ‘I know.’ The paperwork had gone on hold also.
He looked sweaty and hot, his fringe plastered to his forehead. His crooked smile was sexy as hell. ‘It wasn’t meant to be funny,’ she said coolly, annoyed that she was developing a growing fascination with his smile.
‘I know.’ He laughed again.
Carrie threw her glasses on the table in exasperation and got out of her chair to stretch her legs and back. ‘You know, Charlie, if you spent as much time with the books as you do on the basketball court, things wouldn’t be in such a mess.’
Charlie gripped the edge of his locker, his peripheral vision full of Carrie twisting and flexing through her middle, emphasising the arch of her back and pushing her full breasts temptingly against the electric blue silk of her blouse. Her jacket was hanging off the back of her chair and he wished she’d leave the damn thing on.
He rustled around for his meds. ‘Being fit is important. It keeps me on the ball. Helps me work better with these kids.’
Carrie flopped out of her stretch, her gaze following his progress to the sink. ‘You take this fitness thing seriously, don’t you?’ she asked as she watched him swallow his pills.
He could feel her heavy whiskey gaze on him as he downed the medication and he had to concentrate on not choking on the tablets. He emptied the glass and turned to face her. ‘I do what I can.’
‘You do more than most. You take a lot of vitamin supplements.’
‘Oh…yeah,’ He turned away and placed his glass in the sink. Vitamins. Right.
He was lying. She caught a flicker of something in his usually open grey gaze before he turned away abruptly. So what were they if they weren’t vitamins? There were at least three tablets he took every lunch-hour.
Angela bustled into the room. ‘I’m sorry, Charlie, but Lilly’s sick. The school’s called. I’m going to have to leave.’
Oh, great! The immunisation clinic. ‘She OK?’
Angela shrugged. ‘A fever.’
‘Pop her in to me later, I’ll check her out.’
Angela looked uncertain. ‘The immunisation clinic, Charlie.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll manage. Just go.’ He smiled.
‘It’ll take you twice as long without me,’ Angela protested.
‘I’ll manage. Carrie will help,’ Charlie added, and shot his most confident smile at his dubious receptionist.
Carrie gaped. Did he think she didn’t have enough on her plate, without doing his work, too? She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind but he was looking at her with a plea in his eyes that she found hard to resist.
She shut her mouth and turned her head to look at Angela. The older woman was looking her up and down like she had the first day, her expression registering extreme doubt.
She glanced back at Charlie who gave her a wink and a nod.
‘Ah…sure, I can.’
Angela gave her the once-over again and Carrie felt as if she’d been dressed down by the school principal and found wanting.
‘You sure?’ Angela asked her boss.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Carrie butted in, before Charlie had a chance to answer.
Angela ignored her and repeated the question. ‘Are you sure?’
He nodded. ‘We’ll be fine.’
‘OK…thanks. I’ll pop in later.’
They watched Angela leave. Carrie was miffed by Angela’s lack of faith. She felt like the wallflower with braces at a high school prom.
‘You are still a registered doctor, aren’t you?’ he asked as the door shut.
‘Of course,’ she said indignantly.
He shrugged. ‘Hey, something obviously happened with you. I thought you may have been deregistered.’
Obviously? Was it that obvious? ‘Most certainly not,’ she said primly, drawing herself up to her full height.
‘I’m sorry.’ He shrugged. ‘I just assumed…’
‘Like I assumed about the vitamins?’ she asked sweetly.
Charlie gave her a grudging smile. ‘Touché. Clinic starts in fifteen minutes.’
Now, this she could handle. Surely? Giving a few needles was hardly the same as lending a hand at an accident scene. No one’s life was in the balance. There wouldn’t be blood or the horrifying urgency of every second counting. A quick jab, dry a few tears, console a few stressed mothers and send them on their way. Anyone could do it.
The waiting area was crowded with men, women and children of all ages when she walked out on shaky legs. For once the brooding teenagers had been completely driven out of the clinic.
‘There’s a lot of people out there,’ she said, leaning against the doorframe of the treatment room.
He nodded. She’d put her jacket back on and he was grateful for it. The full power suit reminded him why she was there. Which was what he needed after seeing her languorous stretch in the staffroom. ‘Angela makes sure the immunisation clinic has a high local profile.’
‘You’re right, she is indispensable.’ Carrie had been more than impressed over the course of the week. Angela was efficient, ran the place with military precision and could stare down a sullen teenager or stoned user better than the scariest sergeant major. Not one regular dared to give Angela any lip.
Charlie gasped dramatically. ‘Me, right? Can I get that in writing?’
Carrie smiled. ‘Don’t let it go to your head.’
Too late. He’d spent the last five nights with her and her damn pinstriped suits in his head. He cleared his throat. ‘You handle the paperwork, I’ll give the injections,’ Charlie said as he checked the vaccine fridge in the treatment room. ‘Angela has all the cards out for those she’s expecting. They’ll be in alphabetical order. Any drop-ins should have their baby books and we can access their information through the practitioner portal at the national immunisation database website. Angela already has it up on the screen.’
He brushed past her, ignoring the brief press of flesh, and strode to the desk, demonstrating quickly how to access the information she’d need and how to update each patient’s records.
‘Weigh the babies if that hasn’t been done in the last month.’ He pointed to the scales.
‘Right,’ she said stiffly, still processing the sigh of her cells as her body reeled from the fleeting contact of his body against hers. Weigh the babies. See, easy. I can do this. It was hardly practising medicine.
Charlie stopped and gave her a searching look. ‘Are you sure?’
She scrambled to get her head together. She put her hand on her hip and lifted her chin. ‘I have two degrees. I think I can manage some data entry and a set of scales.’
Her stance emphasised the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip and her haughty put-down tone had the completely opposite effect. He was anything but put down. ‘Right, then, let’s get started before the mob starts to revolt.’
Three hours later they had finally broken the back of the queue. Three agonising hours of watching Charlie cluck, c
uddle, soothe and generally work magic with every baby, toddler and child in the room. And their mothers. He’d even managed to engage the odd bored, rather-be-shooting-hoops dad who had been dragged along, as well.
He was a natural with kids. They responded to him with that typical childlike exuberance. He pulled faces and put on funny voices and teased and joked with the older children. He wiped away their tears and gave out ‘I’ve Been Beary Brave Today’ teddy-bear-shaped stickers and the kids’ eyes lit up like he’d just given them diamonds.
She remembered him saying that his wife hadn’t wanted children. She also remembered getting the distinct impression that he wasn’t keen on them, either. Which was a shame—he really had a way with little people. He’d certainly won Dana’s heart with his Sleeping Beauty comment. She hadn’t stopped talking about him since.
Her mind drifted to her daughter. And then, as usual, to Dana’s father. Why couldn’t Rupert have been more like Charlie? The horrible night she had told him about being pregnant, the night he had broken her heart, was never far from her mind. It had been a particularly awful time, coming hot on the heels of her disintegrating medical career. She had loved him and he had rejected her and his baby during the worst time of her life, and with such vehemence, such disdain, part of her had never recovered.
He had become engaged shortly after that and had moved overseas to practise in London. But his betrayal had stayed close to her heart. As long as she lived, she never wanted to be in a position where someone could destroy her again. Love gave other human beings extraordinary power over you and she was never handing that power over again.
She shut the website down with a vehement click, annoyed that she had let her thoughts drift, and surveyed the now empty waiting room. Her feet ached from constant getting up and down and walking back and forth. Her fashionable three-inch stilettos weren’t meant for movement. Sitting at a desk, yes, going back and forth, no.
She got off Angela’s chair and flopped down on one of the squishy lounges, kicking her shoes off temporarily and wriggling her toes. She had to get back to the laptop, she was three hours behind, but for a brief moment she let her head flop back and sighed. It felt heavenly.
Charlie stood framed in the doorway, watching her. The clinic had gone well. OK, Carrie hadn’t been as fast at things as Angela, but for a novice she’d excelled, and she’d had amazingly good rapport with the clients. Maybe that was a mother thing, an area she could relate to, but he didn’t think so. She had great people skills. It seemed such a shame that she was wasting them in management.
He watched her hand creep up and rub absently at her neck. He was hit by an overwhelming urge to give her a shoulder rub. She looked done in. He remembered her stretching earlier. She was, no doubt, used to ergonomically designed chairs and having to contend with a hard plastic seat was probably playing havoc with her spine alignment. She probably had kinks in her kinks.
But even as he thought it he knew how dangerous touching her would be. He’d thought about little else since he’d met her. To have to go home each night and add in the reality of her touch to his dreams would give him a permanent case of insomnia. She’d probably sue him for harassment anyway. He shoved his hands in his pockets and went back to putting the treatment room back to rights.
Carrie heard the door open and almost groaned. A late-comer? She opened her eyes to find a girl, a young woman actually, standing there, looking miserable. She had multicoloured short spiky hair, several facial piercings and sad, sad eyes ringed by thick black eyeliner. She looked about seventeen.
Carrie sat up. ‘Are you OK?’
The girl nodded.
‘Do you want to see Ch—Dr Wentworth?’
The girl shook her head.
Carrie recognised the look in her eyes. She’d seen it in her mirror often enough. ‘You just want to sit for a bit?’ Carrie asked, patting the lounge beside her.
The girl eyed the space, strode across the room and flung herself down next to Carrie. ‘Men are such pigs,’ she said vehemently.
Carrie looked for a response that would encourage the girl to unburden but she’d never been very good at the psychology side of things. And with thoughts of Rupert never far away, what else could she do other than agree?
‘This is true.’
The girl looked at her, startled, and then turned back to stare straight ahead. ‘They suck.’
True again. ‘They do.’
Charlie’s ears pricked up at the conversation and he strained to hear more.
‘How could they be so…so…duplicitous?’
It was Carrie’s turn to be startled this time. She’d mistakenly judged this girl on her appearance. She obviously had an excellent vocabulary. ‘It’s a Y chromosome thing. I think they go to duplicitous studies while we’re at common sense 101,’ Carrie sighed.
Charlie wanted to protest on behalf of his sex as he edged closer to the open door.
‘More like gullible 101,’ the young woman grumbled.
Carrie laughed. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’
‘So what do we do about it?’ the girl complained, turning beseeching eyes on Carrie.
Well, now, wasn’t that the million-dollar question? Carrie shrugged. ‘Believe in yourself. Believe that you’re worth more than that. That there’s someone out there who will treat you with the respect you deserve, and don’t settle for less.’
The girl sagged against the chair. ‘Oh.’
‘Sorry, probably not what you wanted to hear. If you’ve got another suggestion, I’d be happy to hear it.’
‘I was thinking of making a voodoo doll.’
Carrie laughed. The idea of sticking pins into an effigy of Rupert was inordinately funny. The girl laughed with her.
Charlie winced and made a note to never cross either of them.
‘Nah, I suppose you’re right,’ the girl conceded after a while. ‘How long did it take you to figure it out?’
Carrie laughed but there was a harsh edge to it. ‘Too long.’
The girl sighed. ‘Think I’ll become a lesbian.’
‘I don’t think you get a choice. I think you either are or you aren’t.’
She sighed again. ‘We’d be better off without them.’
Very mature. But then she thought of Dana’s quick girly giggle. And Charlie’s slow lazy smile. ‘It wouldn’t be as fun, though, would it?’
Carrie chatted to the girl for a while longer then excused herself. She was so behind. She’d hoped to get through December’s financial statistics today but helping with the clinic had thrown that out the window. She was just going to have to stay on. Dana was having a sleepover at her sister’s house tonight with her cousins so there was no need to rush home.
She walked past Charlie’s office. He had the door closed and she assumed, hoped, that he was attending to the immunisation clinic’s billing paperwork. The thought of going back to her own stack of papers was exceedingly unappealing. She sat at the table, staring at her laptop, and felt suddenly restless.
She gave herself a shake. She didn’t have time for restless. The board would not be impressed if the report was late. It could ruin her otherwise unblemished record. She’d already messed up one career. She wasn’t going to blow this one. She donned her glasses—they never failed to put her in the right frame of mind.
Charlie opened the door a few minutes later. Carrie looked at him over the top of her rims. Her jacket was off again and he almost turned around and went back to his office to stare at the walls some more.
‘It’s past five. Shouldn’t you be heading off?’ He flicked the kettle on.
She shook her head. ‘Helping you put me behind so I’m working on tonight. That’s OK, isn’t it?’
‘Sure. I never usually leave till nine-thirty or ten. What about Dana?’
Carrie refused to allow the little thrill of pleasure coursing through her any rein. So, he was thoughtful—that wasn’t entirely alien to the male species. ‘Sleeping over at her cousin’s h
ouse tonight.’
‘Coffee?’
She shook her head. Heavens, no, she already felt too keyed up.
‘You work long hours,’ Carrie said. ‘I don’t see you claiming them on any of your timesheets.’
‘I’d love for the centre to be open twenty-four seven but with just me, that’s not possible. So I do what I can to open extended hours.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s not like I have anything better to do.’
She watched him pour his drink and stir in two sugars. He sounded like he lived for his work, too. And then she realised she was staring and returned her attention to the screen.
‘Sorry I put you behind,’ he said, leaning against the sink and taking a sip of his scalding hot double-strength brew.
Carrie stopped tapping on the keys again and smiled, thinking back at her afternoon. ‘It’s OK. I enjoyed it, actually.’
Charlie nodded. He could tell. ‘Maybe that’s because you’re good at it. People respond to you.’
‘Nonsense,’ she said, going back to her work. She couldn’t afford to let his praise go to her head. She was in management now. That’s where her future lay. ‘I hardly had any contact at all. Spent most of my time on that damn computer.’
He pushed away from the sink and strolled towards her. ‘Rubbish. They’re a tough crowd, Carrie. Trust me, they liked you. Just look at Tina earlier. She’s one seriously mixed-up, closed-off kid. You had her eating out of your hand.’
‘Tina? Was that her name? She’s a smart girl, that one, she’ll figure it out.’
He nodded. ‘Thanks in part to you.’
Their eyes met. He could see the wariness in her gaze. The denial. And then the phone rang.
Carrie broke eye contact and stared dumbly at the object hanging on the wall. The damn thing rang all day, constantly interrupting her concentration. She was learning to tune it out.
