‘Cheers, mate.’ Maggie poked her head around the door.
The room had just enough space for a single bed. A row of skis stood propped along the wall and a backpack took up the space beneath a window that looked out on the dustbins at the back of a restaurant. Maggie thought of her bedroom at Hugo’s house with the French doors opening to the verandah and the endless view of the lake and mountains. She couldn’t repress a small sigh. She really didn’t want to move at all. Disguising the motive for the sigh by simultaneously checking her watch, she turned away from the room.
‘Time we went back to work, I think. What was the name of our patient again?’
‘Dulcie Payne. I’ve been out to her more than once.’ Jason climbed back into the driver’s seat of the ambulance. ‘She’s in her eighties and has bad Alzheimer’s but her husband refuses to have her put in a rest home. She wanders off at regular intervals so we get called out to help look for her sometimes.’ He started the engine and eased the ambulance along the narrow street. ‘Last time she didn’t recognise Tom and refused to go home with him. Whacked him in the face and he got a nosebleed that wouldn’t stop.’
‘Poor man,’ Maggie murmured. ‘She’s being admitted to hospital now. Is that an interim step before rest-home placement?’
‘Doubt it. Tom’s determined to look after her. They tried admitting her for assessment last time but he refused. Said she looked after him for their whole marriage and he’s going to look after her now or die trying.’
‘He sounds like a nice man,’ Maggie said. ‘What a sad position to be in at this stage of their lives.’
‘Yeah.’ Jason indicated that he was turning into the medical centre. ‘I’m not going to get old.’
‘Oh, sure.’ Maggie grinned at her partner. ‘Let me know the secret when you find it.’
‘Too late.’ Jason shook his head sadly. ‘I know a lost cause when I see one.’
Maggie was still glaring at Jason when the door to the medical centre opened. She shouldn’t have been surprised by Hugo’s appearance, seeing as it was his day to work at the centre. So why did her pulse rate leap quite that much? And why was she so conscious of the length of time that passed whenever they made eye contact with each other?
She knew why, of course. She tried to listen to what Hugo was saying with professional interest.
‘This might not be easy,’ he warned the crew. ‘Tom doesn’t want Dulcie in hospital even for respite care, but his chronic respiratory problems have been exacerbated by a chest infection so there’s no way he can manage at home for the next few days.’
‘Does he want to come to the hospital with her?’
‘That would be great. I can take him home again later.’ Hugo’s gaze caught Maggie’s again. ‘It won’t help Tom’s breathing if he gets upset by all this.’
‘I’ll take good care of them both,’ Maggie promised. ‘And Jason’s really good with old people.’
‘Sure am,’ Jason agreed. He winked at Maggie. ‘I get a lot of experience with them on this job.’
The satisfactory management of a potentially difficult patient transfer and even Jason’s continued humorous jabs at Maggie’s seniority failed to lift the uncharacteristically sombre mood for Maggie that had been provoked by the tour of Jason’s flat. She tried to snap out of it as she used a quiet spell to catch up on paperwork. It wasn’t as though there was any real urgency to find new accommodation, was there?
The new tension she was feeling in being close to Hugo was only her problem. The conversation they’d had about Felicity over a week ago had marked a change in their relationship. A change for the better in that it enabled the kind of closeness they’d had in the past to re-emerge. It had been fostered by sharing memories and photo albums and it removed any awkwardness in sharing living quarters as adults. They knew so much about each other and had done for so long that the acceptance of any faults in the other was as automatic as within any family. But that was the problem as well.
They weren’t family and never had been. And while Hugo could not be haunted by any memories of a teenage crush, the desire that had been rekindled for Maggie was becoming harder to ignore with every passing day. The awareness was there every time she saw him. The knot that was half excitement and half something much deeper caught her stomach with increasing intensity. Maggie knew she watched him too often, allowing her gaze to rest on his face when she thought he wasn’t looking. Or, worse, watching the way his jeans moulded themselves to his thighs as he strode ahead of her on the beach as they walked the dogs. Or simply enjoying the sight of his hands as they held a journal he was reading by the fire in the evening. Maggie would look at the strong hands with their fine cover of dark hair, the long and skilful-looking fingers, and she could turn that knot in her abdomen into the most delicious tingles by imagining what it would feel like to have those hands on her body.
Hugo couldn’t possibly be aware of how she felt because it wasn’t as though there was the slightest chance of it being reciprocated. Hugo hadn’t moved past his assumed role as a pseudo-brother. And even if he had, he had Joan in his life and Maggie wasn’t into stealing men. No. This was her problem all right and she either had to deal with it or move out. The only potential place she had to move into right now was Jason’s flat. Living with a colleague wasn’t a long-term solution and Maggie wasn’t desperate for a quick fix. Yet. There had to be another way of distracting herself. That way she could find out whether she was merely revisiting that teenage crush or whether she had a major emotional disaster looming.
The checklist on her desk of equipment due for servicing caught Maggie’s eye. She made a note to add the battery charger for the life pack to the list. Jason had alerted her to the fact that the charger was malfunctioning intermittently. The regulators for the oxygen cylinders were outdated as well and Maggie didn’t trust them. She made another note to investigate the cost of replacement and to check the station’s budget situation. Then she started doodling on the edge of the paper. If they wanted new regulators they would probably have to do some fundraising, as the hospital was doing to obtain updated resuscitation equipment, including a new ventilator, for the emergency department.
The distraction was immediate and Maggie swung in her chair to stare at the calendar on her wall. The fundraising ball was only two weeks away now and she had done nothing about obtaining a ticket or thinking about a costume. Having had her own idea of a fancy-dress ball embraced so whole-heartedly by the local community committee in charge of the fundraising venture, it would not reflect very well on the ambulance service if she failed to participate with due enthusiasm. Was it Hugo’s reticence that had made the event less appealing? Maggie had asked him only a few days ago what he was planning to dress up as.
‘I have no idea,’ he’d said grumpily. ‘Joan’s organising that for me. She’s going to hire something for both of us on one of her trips to Dunedin.’
‘Don’t you have a preference?’
‘I’d prefer not to be going. I hate fancy dress. Whose idea was it, anyway?’
‘Mine,’ Maggie reminded him stiffly. ‘But don’t worry. I’m sure Joan will think of an appropriate costume for you.’ Hugo’s lack of interest felt like a reprimand. ‘Dracula might be good,’ she suggested blandly. ‘I can just see you with those teeth and a bit of blood dripping down your chin.’ She ignored Hugo’s increasingly mutinous expression. ‘The cloak would look good when you dance, too.’
‘I hate dancing.’
Maggie’s jaw had dropped. How could anybody hate dancing? Maybe Hugo was a bit stuffy after all. ‘Dracula would be perfect, then,’ she had said a little waspishly. ‘We could borrow a coffin and you could lie there while everyone else is having fun.’
‘What are you going as?’ Hugo’s retort had been swift. ‘Pippi Longstocking?’
Maggie had spent quite a bit of time wondering if Hugo’s suggestion had been an unkind reference to her unmanageable hair. It probably would poke out at right angles to her
head if she tried braiding it. The reference could well have been a dig at her personality, however, and that was more hurtful. Did he really remember her behaviour as being outrageous? Did he still believe that Felicity had been lured into trouble by someone who had no respect for convention or constraint?
Maggie sighed heavily. The tension was there all right and it would continue growing unless she found a way of defusing it. She owed it to Hugo to find a solution. It wasn’t his fault she felt the way she did. He’d hardly encouraged it, had he? He had, in fact, been kind enough to offer her a place to live and a chance to find peace with the terrible event that had separated them all those years ago. She had known before she’d come that he was in a relationship and it had never occurred to her that it would matter. She’d never had a chance with Hugo Patterson.
And she never would.
The ringing of the phone served to punctuate the dead end of that train of thought. That the call would present a possible solution to the impasse occurred to Maggie quite swiftly. And Donald Hamilton seemed only too happy to co-operate.
‘A ball? Sounds fun, Maggie, I’d love to come. It would be good to see you. That’s really why I was ringing.’
‘Oh?’ Maggie tried to sound cautiously pleased.
‘I felt like planning a weekend away and I thought I’d take a chance and see whether you might be free for dinner or a day’s skiing or something.’
‘I’ll get you a ticket, then. It’s on Saturday the sixteenth. One of the biggest hotels is putting it on in their conference facility so it should be a good evening.’
‘Is there a theme or do we just choose any kind of costume?’
‘It’s “Come as your favourite book character or movie star” so it’s pretty wide-ranging.’
‘What are you going as? Do you want me to hire a costume in town for you?’
‘I’m sure I can dig something up.’ Maggie twirled her chair around. Donald had a very nice voice. Deep. And warm. Quite sensual, really. ‘I did some belly-dancing classes years ago. I could get my mother to post down my costume and go as something from Aladdin.’
‘Mmm.’ Donald’s tone was approving. ‘I’ll have to think up something to match. Tell you what, let’s have lunch if you’re not out on the road when I’m down for my clinic next week. We can throw a few ideas around.’
It was astonishing how much effort had been put into the event. Hugo was quite blown away by the opulence of the venue and the support the community appeared to be giving to the fundraiser. The hospital was clearly a popular beneficiary and the contribution made by local and even international business interests was impressive. The decorations, lighting and bar facilities were lavish and the crowd unexpectedly large. Hugo was surprised to see that a number of the hospital’s visiting specialists had made the effort to be present along with an almost full contingent of the local GPs and their partners, hospital staff and representatives from all the emergency services.
The sleek dinner suit Joan had chosen for him to wear had seemed like an inspired choice. He could tell everyone he was dressed as James Bond and could neatly avoid the loss of dignity he associated with dressing up in silly costumes. It also solved the problem of being on call. He wouldn’t have to try changing in a hurry or, worse, turn up at the hospital dressed as someone like Dracula if he had an emergency call. Now that he was here, however, Hugo felt out of place. He looked more like one of the live band members or waiters than an active party participant. It was a boring costume. Even Joan’s choice had been adventurous in comparison.
‘I’m Julie Andrews,’ she had explained in response to his astonishment on arriving to collect her. ‘You know, The Sound Of Music?’
‘It suits you.’ Hugo had managed a smile. ‘Just don’t make a habit of it, will you?’
So, here he was. In a suit. With a nun standing beside him. An oasis of boring black and white in a sea of colour and imagination. Various animals, devils and gypsies were all around. He spotted one of the more conservative GPs dressed as Frankenstein and that quiet nurse, Megan, was a rather naughty-looking French maid. Even Lizzie had made a superlative effort and was looking magnificent in a medieval gown and elaborate headdress. Hugo’s gaze kept roving. He was looking for Maggie, who had refused to tell him what she was planning to wear, which had only increased his curiosity. Or was it trepidation? He still had no idea because she had vanished from home early in her normal jeans and bright sweater. She was going to a pre-ball party with Jason and some other ambulance officers who were planning to get ready, en masse, at Jason’s flat.
‘Dr Patterson, did you forget it was fancy dress?’ The young receptionist, Anne, was a clown with a lime-green wig and a brightly painted face.
‘No. I’m James Bond.’
‘Oh…right.’ An enthusiastic-looking cowboy was pulling Anne towards the dance floor. ‘Have fun!’
‘This is great, isn’t it, Hugh?’ The chairman of the hospital’s board of trustees raised his glass beside Hugo. ‘Best fundraiser we’ve ever had. We might even manage to get that ultrasound equipment as well as the ventilator out of the profits.’
‘It’s wonderful,’ Hugo agreed. ‘I had no idea we’d get a response like this.’ The extravagant ‘Henry the Eighth’ costume of his companion made the dinner suit seem even more ordinary, if that were possible.
‘Everyone’s dancing, Hugh.’ Joan was still standing loyally by his side on the edge of the huge room.
‘So they are.’ Hugo could see another black robed figure nearby. ‘Look, you’ve got a partner. There’s a priest over there.’
‘It’s Lewis.’ Joan’s wave at the respiratory physician was not acknowledged. ‘We happened to meet up in the costume hire shop. I think he’s trying to be Sean Connery.’
‘He should have chosen a monk’s robe, then, not a priest’s.’
Joan shrugged. ‘Whatever. Let’s dance, Hugh.’
‘Mmm.’ Hugo had just caught sight of a new surge of people entering. An excited group of young people that rippled with laughter and exuded the intention of having a good time. Jason made an eye-catching Superman with his blond dreadlocks. Erin Willoughby was Cat Woman and Maggie was…
Maggie was stunning, that’s what she was. She had bare feet with brightly painted red toenails and ankle bracelets beneath softly billowing harem pants. A bra top dripping with sequins did nothing to detract from the sparkling ‘jewel’ where her belly button should have been. Her hair was unrestrained by any fastening of side locks and it framed heavily made-up eyes that were all the more alluring thanks to the tiny veil obscuring her mouth. And who was the Arab holding the hand that emerged from the arm-load of coloured bangles? Hugo couldn’t be sure at this distance but he was fairly certain it was Donald Hamilton. He looked away. He didn’t want Maggie to spot him. Not looking so much like a spectator. He cleared his throat.
‘Come on, then.’ He turned back to Joan and held out his hand. ‘Let’s dance.’
The music was great and the floor popular enough for any lack of style on Hugo’s part to go unnoticed. It was also hot and Joan soon discovered that habits were not designed to make vigorous activity comfortable. Hugo was quite happy to follow her to the quieter area surrounding the bar. There were a lot of older members of the community watching the dancing and Hugo knew he should make a point of speaking to as many of the hospital’s supporters as he could. Many of them were in evening dress, as he was, but somehow it didn’t make Hugo happy to find he now fitted in.
‘Joan—there you are! I’ve been looking for you.’ Lewis Evans, the priest, emerged from the dance floor. ‘I’ve got some news.’
Hugo had to turn at the touch on his arm. ‘Dr Patterson? I’m Margo Smythe. My husband is the chairman of the local businessmen’s association. He’s very keen to make your acquaintance if you’ve got a free moment.’
Joan was moving away. ‘It’s about your painting,’ Hugo heard Lewis telling her. ‘The big one of Lake Hayes?’
Margo was pullin
g gently but firmly on Hugo’s arm. ‘We’re wondering if you could tell us about this emergency equipment we’re raising funds for. Jeremy’s right over here. Can we buy you a drink?’
‘Just juice, thanks,’ Hugo said. ‘I’m on call.’
Jeremy Smythe was several inches shorter than Hugo’s six feet two inches. His shoulder presented no barrier to seeing what was happening on the dance floor and everyone appeared to be having great fun. Especially Maggie. She danced with the kind of joyous abandon with which she approached most things in life. Right now she seemed to be giving a growing number of devotees a lesson in belly-dancing.
Later, when Hugo spotted her in the supper room, her face veil had vanished and she was still the centre of a group which was clearly having much more fun than he was. It was Donald Hamilton with Maggie and, judging by his constant grinning, he was enjoying himself immensely. Hugo’s mood dived another notch or two. Being merely a spectator made him feel like a boulder in a swiftly flowing river. A big, black boulder. Maybe it was better that he stood on the sidelines so he didn’t disrupt the flow. Even Joan was enjoying herself…somewhere. It took Hugo some time to find her when a call from the hospital gave him the excuse to extricate himself from the fundraising committee’s company.
‘I’ve got to go,’ he told her. ‘Sounds like someone’s come in with a CVA.’
‘Oh, no!’ Joan had discarded her head covering and the white bib. The robe was now exposing a hint of cleavage that Hugo hadn’t known she possessed. ‘And this is such fun!’ She was smiling happily. ‘Do you know what Lewis told me?’ She didn’t wait for a response from Hugo. ‘One of my paintings has sold! The gallery wants more. Maybe even a whole exhibition.’
‘That’s fantastic. Congratulations!’
It’s exciting, isn’t it? Lewis bought me a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Would you like some?’
‘I’m on call,’ Hugo reminded her. ‘On my way to see a patient right now, in fact. I came to find you so I could give you a ride home.’
A Courageous Doctor Page 10