The doctors choice

by Wilde, Hilary

  They looked at the horses, Zoe explaining: “These are the best of the stations’ horses. There’s a lot of rivalry amongst the stations,” she said, and turned to look at Clare, her eyes worried. “You do know that out here we mean cattle and sheep stations and not railway stations?”

  “Yes, I do know that,” Clare said with equal gravity.

  How very fond of Zoe she had grown! The child’s pompous little ways amused her and endeared Zoe more to her, for the child only wanted to be helpful.

  There were crowds leaning on the paddock rail, all talking at the tops of their voices, making a note of the numbers on the jockeys’ backs, comparing the different horses, arguing amicably.

  “They’re amateur jockeys, of course,” Zoe said.

  “Some of the best in the world,” she added proudly.

  Clare watched the horses – they looked fine and in good condition How the faces of the jockeys shone with excitement and heat. She liked this sort of race meeting, she decided, as she looked around.

  “Maybe we ought to look for the others, Zoe,” she suggested as she saw Gillian, David and Barry walking in their direction.

  It was absurd, this panic she felt. She had not spoken to David since he accused her of trying to take Barry’s affections from his stepmother by constantly interfer-ing. She wanted to see David, yet dreaded it in the same moment. She was always so afraid that her eyes would reveal the truth when she looked at him. And that was the last thing that mast happen.

  Zoe had obviously seen them, too, for she turned away quickly, taking Clare’s arm. “Yes, we had. We usually have something to eat before the second race starts. Come on!”

  Zoe led the way through the crowd and they climbed a small hill above the racecourse and found the Johnsons sitting under a clump of eucalypt trees that gave some shade. Mike had spread a big tarpaulin over the dusty ground and the picnic baskets were open.

  Ian and Val smiled as Clare and Zoe approached them.

  “Well?” Ian asked cheerfully. “What do you think of, your first picnic race meeting?”

  Clare smiled. “I think it’s fun, and most exciting.

  Everyone’s so happy.”

  Ian chuckled. “They won’t be so happy by the end of the day, I reckon. You a gambler, Clare?”

  Clare laughed. “Afraid not.”

  “Sit down,” Val invited. “If you’re half as thirsty as I am—”

  Clare sat down next to Val and gratefully took the glass of cold lemonade that actually had ice in it. Zoe hesitated, looking away at the people around them.

  “Here they come,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, and there was something that sounded to Clare like excitement in Zoe’s voice.

  She looked up at the girl and saw the tense way Zoe was watching as David and Gillian, Barry walking between them, came towards them.

  “Hi, Clare!” David said cheerfully, smiling at her.

  He had already forgotten the little lecture he had given her! It had meant nothing to him and so much to her. Clare watched miserably as Gillian sat down on the tarpaulin next to Ian, and David sat by her side.

  “Come, darling!” Gillian said to the little boy, who looked tired and hot. “Come and sit with Mummy,”

  she added, pulling him down by her side.

  “I’m thirsty,” Barry said.

  Zoe’s face was bright. “Uncle David, we can get some cold drinks at the stall over there,” she said excitedly.

  “But I’ve got iced lemonade, Zoe,” Val began.

  Zoe looked at her, her eyes wide. “But, Mummy, Barry likes his drinks fizzy, and so do I.”

  David chuckled and found some money, giving it to Zoe, who went racing off eagerly. Gillian was spreading out the skirt of her suit so that it did not crumple.

  “That’s a lovely dress,” Clare said suddenly.

  Gillian glanced at her, her eyes amused. “Too sophisticated for you, Nurse — sorry, Clare. I always forget.”

  Clare sat back and found Mike bending over her, touching her shoulder. She tilted back her head to hear what he was saying softly.

  “I’ve seen a pretty girl, new to the district, and I want to investigate. No objections, seeing as you—?”

  he teased in her ear.

  Clare laughed happily. “I’m glad, Mike,” she said warmly. “Best of luck!”

  ‘“Bless you,” he said, and lightly touched her shoulder.

  Clare straightened her head and saw that David was looking at her strangely, then turning away to say something to Gillian, who laughed.

  Marge came running. “Dad, Dad, did you see old Horatio? They’re racing him again this year. I think it’s too-bad. He’s too old!”

  Zoe came with three bottles of cold drinks, already opened. She gave one to Barry, one to Marge, and kept one. Then she gave the change to David and sat down by Clare’s side.

  Barry tilted the bottle, sucking at it noisily.

  “Barry, what a horrible noise!” Gillian said after a few moments and took the bottle away from him. “You can’t be all that thirsty!”

  “I am, too,” Barry said rebelliously, the corners of his mouth turning downwards ominously. He looked very hot and tired. “I am thirsty,” he insisted, reaching his hand out for the bottle.

  Gillian sighed, looked at David, and shrugged her shoulders. She looked very beautiful in the bright sunlight, the colour of her suit reflected in her cheeks.

  “You shouldn’t have bought it for him, darling,” she scolded David affectionately. “All right, but do try to drink quietly, Barry,” she added, handing him the bottle.

  Val was handing out legs of cold chicken and sandwiches, and Clare began to eat, sitting back, thinking about Mike, and hoping he was having good luck with the new girl. Mike was only too ready to fall in love with any pretty girl who came along, but it made her feel happier to know that he was already looking elsewhere.

  “I was telling David what fun we have playing chess, Ian,” Gillian was saying gaily, when there was a hoarse grating sound.

  Clare looked across the tablecloth and saw that Barry was being violently sick. And all over Gillian’s beautiful wild silk suit!

  “Barry, you dirty, filthy little beast!” Gillian was saying, her voice shrill, as she pushed Barry away roughly, jumped to her feet, shaking her skirt. She was nearly in tears, her voice thick. “My lovely suit, completely ruined! I told you not to drink so much of that fizzy muck!”

  Barry was being sick again, and Clare moved swiftly to his side, holding him gently, one hand on his forehead.

  “It’s all right, Barry. Just relax. You’ll feel better in a moment, darling.”

  Vaguely she saw that David was on his feet, looking at Gillian strangely. Ian was also standing, tut-tutting sympathetically, giving Gillian his handkerchief.

  “It’s not ruined, Gillian,” David said quietly. “You can have it cleaned.”

  Her eyes were blazing as she looked at him. “But what am Ito wear now? The stench! How can we eat? If you had any idea what this suit cost!”

  Clare was too occupied with Barry to pay much attention. The small boy was being sick again, heaving … crying, too.

  “It’s all right, darling,” Clare kept saying. “Soon be over.”

  At last he stopped, and she mopped his face and shirt with her hankie, after drying his eyes. She held him close for a moment and then let him go. Still clinging to her arm, standing near Clare, Barry looked at his stepmother.

  “You don’t love me at all!” he said, his shrill young voice unsteady. “You were lying all the time. If you loved me, you wouldn’t get so cross.” He turned to Clare. “Clare loves me.” He buried his face in Clare’s dress and she held him close, looking up at the flushed angry face of the lovely woman, who seemed now to have completely lost control of herself.

  Gillian turned to David, her hands held out. “You didn’t believe me, David, but now you see what I mean.

  I told you — she’s trying to steal Barry. Not because she
loves him but because she wants you. She’s scheming—using Barry as a weapon. A weapon to get you!”

  Clare stared at the angry woman in horror, but before she could speak, Barry had lifted his face and cried shrilly: “She’s not scheming! She loves me, and one day we’re going to be married!”

  “Shut up, Barry,” Gillian told him curtly. “The rubbish you talk!”

  “It isn’t rubbish,” Barry said. His voice was even more shrill, the tears running down his cheeks. “We’re waiting till I’m old enough, but she’s promised.” He looked up at her. “You did promise, Clare?”

  “Yes, la did promise, Barry,” she told him gently.

  David took a step forward. Vaguely in the background Clare saw Val’s shocked face, the way Zoe was biting her lip, her eyes bright, how pale Marge looked—but it was David’s face Clare stared at.

  He was very pale, his mouth a thin line. “Was that your promise to Barry, Clare?” he asked quietly. “The promise you wouldn’t tell me about?”

  Clare’s arms tightened round Barry. “Yes. Barry was sorry for me in London. He said — he said he knew what it felt like to be – to be rejected. We arranged that later on, if we changed our minds, we would tell one another. David, he wanted to comfort me,” she said simply.

  “I’ve never heard such nonsense!” Gillian exploded.

  David ignored her, and went on looking at Clare. ’’I understood the secret was that you and Mike were to be married.”

  Clare looked startled. “Mike did – well, he did ask me, but he quite understood. There never was any question – I told him I didn’t love him.”

  David turned his head and looked at Gillian. She stood still, her face flushed, her eyes suddenly wary.

  Then he turned to Zoe.

  “Zoe, would you take Barry to the washroom and help him clean up?” He smiled at Barry. “Take offyour shirt, Barry, and Zoe’ll wash it for you. It’ll soon dry.

  You go too, Marge.”

  The three children stared at him, their eyes wide with doubt, but he smiled.

  “Don’t look like that,” he said. “No one’s cross with you – any of you. It could happen to anyone.”

  Barry walked between the girls, dabbing his eyes with the backs of his hands, Zoe standing very tall by his side. Then David turned to Gillian. His voice was very quiet.

  “You told me Clare was going to marry Mike. That she had told you so.”

  Gillian’s face was red with anger. “I did not, David. I said Mike wanted to marry Clare, and you heard her admit—”

  “No, you said—” David began.

  “Why, Clare Butler, at long last!” a deep masculine voice said.

  Clare swung round to find herself staring at a well-dressed man in an expensive-looking grey suit, with his field-glasses in his hand, as he smiled at her.

  “Simon Trenchard,” Clare said slowly.

  The man ran a hand over his smooth brown hair and smiled at her. “I’m honoured that you haven’t forgotten me,” he said jovially. “I was afraid—”

  “Of course I hadn’t,” she said hastily, remembering that day at the hospital when they had walked down the path and chatted for a few moments and Sister Madge had looked so disapproving!

  He smiled. “I’m glad. I couldn’t forget you. I wondered if you’d care to go to the picnic race ball tonight as my partner.” He paused, still smiling. “That is, if you’re not already booked—”

  David moved abruptly, coming to stand by Clare.

  “Trenchard,” he said abruptly, “I heard you were in France. You told me—”

  The man smiled. “I did. I was, and I’m back. You Outback folk forget how quickly one can fly to Paris and back. How are you, Johnson? Looking fit.”

  “I’m fine,” David said curtly. “You know my brother and Val, of course, but I don’t think you’ve met—” -

  He stood to one side so that Simon Trenchard saw Gillian for the first time. He stared at her and his face changed. He looked startled and then pleased.

  “Why, Gillian!” he said warmly, going towards her, holding out both hands and taking hers. “I had no idea you were in Australia.”

  Gillian stood very still, the colour leaving her face as she let her hands lie limply in his.

  He did not wait for an answer but went on eagerly: “It must be exactly eight months since we met.

  Remember? At the Randolphs’ in Los Angeles, wasn’t it?” He chuckled. “What a night! I was bored to tears, and then I met you. We danced and dined for three nights and then I had to fly to Spain.” He chuckled.

  “Was I annoyed! Well, and now we meet again! It’s a small world.”

  “Eight months ago, did you say?” David asked quietly.

  Clare stood a little way back as she watched Gillian’s face, saw the fear in her eyes, the hardness in her expression as she looked from David to Simon Trenchard and back to David. Slowly her face seemed to relax.

  “Of course I remember, Simon. Perfectly. How could I possibly forget?” she said in her husky voice, smiling at him.

  David moved quietly, standing by Clare’s side, his fingers lightly curling round Clare’s bare arm.

  “I’m afraid Clare isn’t free for the dance, Trenchard,” he said.

  Startled, Clare looked up at him, but he was not gazing at her, but at Simon Trenchard. Simon’s heavily built shoulders moved slightly. He smiled at Clare and his eyes looked amused. “Too bad. I thought it was too good to be true. Another time, maybe.”

  He turned back to Gillian and released her hands.

  “This is wonderful, Gillian,” he said, his voice warm.

  “I’ve so much to tell you. You’ll remember that enter-prise I planned to start in Brazil? It’s coming off. By the way, I don’t suppose you’re free tonight, Gillian? It’s difficult to talk here. The races will start any moment—”

  Gillian stared at David and then looked at Clare.

  Clare shivered and she felt David’s fingers tighten on her arm. Then she looked at Gillian’s expression as she smiled at Simon.

  “Nothing I’d like more, Simon. You’re so fascinating to talk to– so different.” She looked down at her stained skirt ruefully. “I’ll have to try to get this cleaned first, though.”

  He stared in sympathy. “Messy, eh? I should think the stuff would wash and soon dry in this heat. Suppose we meet later, Gillian? I want to see this next race.”

  He turned and walked away. Stillness fell on the small group as they stared at one another. David took his hand away from Clare’s arm and took a step forward.

  “So you lied all the way along the line, Gillian,” he said quietly.

  “And you were never in a sanatorium,” Val said.

  David turned to look at his sister-in-law. “I realized that, Val, last time I was at Noorla. Gillian always refused to discuss her illness, but something she let slip – well, it puzzled me. I took the trouble of making enquiries and discovered there was no sanatorium of the name she gave us. Nor was she at any other sanatorium in New South Wales.” He spoke crisply.

  He turned again to look at Gillian. “What I’m trying to discover, Gillian, is why you bothered to lie.”

  Gillian stared at him and her lovely face seemed to crumple. There were tears in her eyes, and her voice was husky as she moved towards him, her hands outstretched.

  “Because – because I was ashamed, David. Can you understand? I was ashamed of being a coward, running out. I missed Tony so much when he died. I was lonely, so very lonely. I have so many friends in America and so few here—”

  “Then why did you come back?” he asked quietly.

  She lifted her head and stared into his eyes. “Because I love you, David. I read in the paper about your inventions – I knew how well you’d do in America, but I knew, too, that you’re no business man, that you need someone like me to help you. David, I love you and I need you—” Her voice changed, grew frightened.

  “David, I’m so tired of fighting for an existence.�
��

  His voice was cold. “I should think you’re tired of lying.” His face looked stern, as if made of stone.

  “Haven’t you ever thought of what this is doing to Barry?”

  Gillian stared at him and her voice grew shrill. `I’m sick and tired of you, David Johnson!” she said angrily: “You’re smug and pompous and you’ll never be anything but a cheap little Outback doctor. I want nothing to do with you. I hoped you’d changed, but you’re just the same!”

  She swung round and faced a pale, silent Val. “As for Barry, I don’t want him. He’s always sick or a nuis-ance. You can adopt him – I’ll sign the papers whenever you like. Satisfied? Is that what you want?”

  Two red patches flared in her cheeks. “And I won’t impose on your reluctant hospitality another moment, Val. I’ll send for my luggage.”

  “Gillian,” Ian said, his deep voice distressed, “don’t do anything hasty. Where will you go?”

  Gillian smiled at him. “Poor Ian – you’re slow and dull, but rather a dear. I’ll be all right. I always have been and always ‘ will be.” She looked down at her stained skirt and grimaced.’ “First I must do something about this. I’ll see you at the ball tonight, no doubt.”

  She turned and walked away from them, picking her path carefully in her high-heeled shoes.

  “She’ll-be all right,” Val said, her voice flat. “Gillian always was able to look after herself. I feel” – she shivered – “I feel as if I need a good bath.” Her voice changed, grew excited. “Now we can adopt Barry, Ian.

  Isn’t it wonderful? You heard her, Clare? And David?

  We have witnesses.”

  “You won’t need witnesses,” David said slowly.

  “She doesn’t want Barry now. She accused Clare of doing those things she did herself She knew I loved the boy—”

  “Ian, Val said brightly, “let’s take a walk. This is my lucky day. I’m going to bet on the horses as I’ve never bet before!” She took her husband’s arm and led him away, giving Clare a quick conspiratorial smile.

  Clare blushed. What had Val meant by that smile?