A shimmer on the roof looked like solar panels. She could see the intricate wrought iron lacework along the roof edge as she drew closer. Multi-coloured stained glass windows flashed back the rays of the sun.
A metre-high picket fence separated the house and garden from the mud track leading to it. Following the drive along the perimeter of the fence, Sheva heard the ruckus coming from the property. Roy Knight sure had an effective alarm system. She pulled up at the metre high wooden gate, noticing with relief the heavy double chains and two large padlocks firmly fastened.
The number 26 was painted on the side post. The word ‘Destiny’ was printed in small neat letters on a wooden placard under it.
Two angry hounds were upright at the gate. They had heralded her arrival, and now their front paws shook the wooden frame, rattling the chains and padlocks. Not being a dog lover, she had no idea what breed they were, but she knew enough to know they were large and intimidating.
The metal hinges on the gate creaked.
It would probably be unwise to get out of the car and confront these two. Anyway, they were far more effective than any doorbell.
Chapter 17
‘Heel, boys.’ Roy stood on the bottom step of the veranda. The dogs fell to the ground, shot up, quivered, and then raced to stand on either side of him.
The dogs and their master strode down the gravel drive to the gate.
Opening the door, Sheva slid out of the car and reached into the back to get her medical bag. The heat and dust sizzled around her. She took a deep breath and coughed. Reaching back into the car, she grabbed the water bottle, snapped it open and took a quick sip. She cleared her throat and readied herself to confront Roy.
The rumpled clothes, ruffled hair and overnight stubble on the grim set face showed that he hadn’t spent too long on his morning routine. A homemade, blood-stained sling, made from what appeared to be a tea towel, held his left arm to his chest.
Sheva winced. The stiches were probably torn and bleeding. All her good work undone by his obstinate, recalcitrant behaviour.
They stood separated by the padlocked gate. Roy and his canine guards on one side, and Sheva on the other. The absurdity of this house call struck her. The last time she had done a home visit had been to check on a patient on whom she had performed an aortic aneurysm repair. She had driven up in her BMW convertible and the butler had met her at the door of the house, or rather, the mansion. The visit had been in the upper class suburb of Point Piper in Sydney.
The dogs snarled and leapt at the gate. Roy silenced them with an impatient gesture of his right hand.
‘Dr Singh, what brings you here?’ He glanced at her dust and mud-streaked car. ‘And, in your little city car.’ His voice oozed with amused condescension.
Sheva had to look up at him over the padlocked gate. She wished she were wearing her twelve centimetre party heels, even though they hadn’t given her much of an advantage over Zorro.
‘You signed yourself out without my permission last night. You didn’t take your antibiotics. You didn’t even have the courtesy to pick up the phone when Peter called you this morning. Now—’ she pointed to the sling on his arm— ‘you have probably ripped the stitches. That is just not acceptable.’ She took a step closer. ‘And I’ll have you know the car is an all-terrain vehicle,’ she snapped.
The dogs leapt up and growled. Sheva shifted her pointing finger to the dogs. ‘Is your middle name Baskerville?’
‘Brilliant, beautiful and a literary genius. I would clap, except I am a little incapacitated at the moment.’ The corners of the compressed lips twitched in the hint of a smile. ‘At the danger of sounding cliché, what is a professional like you doing in a small town like Jindabyne, Doctor Singh?’
‘I’m on a rural placement.’ A half-truth would have to do. Their eyes met and held. Uncertainty flickered in his.
‘Mr Knight,’ she drew on all of her professionalism and patience, ‘I have driven a long way to pay you a house call. I have patients waiting in the clinic back in the town. Can we get on with the examination of the wound?’
He snapped the fingers of his right hand. ‘Ares, Tyche.’ He pointed back to the house and the dogs slunk back up the drive to sit on the veranda.
He named his dogs after the Greek gods of war and good fortune. He probably sees himself as Zeus. She glanced at him in time to see a lift of the right eyebrow. He had read her mind.
‘I didn’t ask for a house call, Doctor, and I am totally capable of caring for myself. How about you turn your all-terrain vehicle around and head right back to your patients in town.’
Anger flared through her. She took a step forward, meaning to stare him down. However, separated by just the gate, she could see weariness around his cloudy grey eyes, the dark smudges of a sleepless night and the tired lines of his face. His cheeks looked flushed. They weren’t good signs.
‘Are you feeling hot? You look like you have a fever. It could be an infection of the wound. You need the injury checked, Mr Knight.’
‘And if I won’t?’
Sheva shrugged, and squared her shoulders. ‘I’ll stand here until you let me in.’ She reached into her bag for her phone. ‘I’ll call the nurse at the and tell her where I am.’
His eyes met hers. His forehead furrowed and something she couldn’t fathom smouldered in the depths of his gaze. ‘Doctor Singh—’
The door to the house swung open. ‘Hey, Roy, let the doctor in.’
The man stood on the top step of the veranda, hands on hips. Built like a solid oak tree, he looked about to burst out of his black jeans and T-shirt. The wide face and solid muscled body were suggestive of a life in the boxing ring or some other equally physical occupation.
He bent down and reached out a muscled arm to pat the dogs. Sheva saw he had long, black hair pulled back in a ponytail. He pointed into the house. The dogs trotted in and he shut the ornate glass-fronted door. Swinging a key ring with a set of assorted keys, he jumped off the veranda and jogged to the gate.
‘The young man you are gawking at—’ Roy made no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice— ‘is Samson.’
An Islander, a rugby player; Sheva remembered what Dan had found out about Roy. She bit her lip and asked, ‘Does Samson cut his hair?’
‘Add bible scholar to the list of accomplishments.’
‘Roy,’ Samson said, slipping the key into one padlock and then the next. The chains fell open. ‘Ask the doctor in.’
A look too fleeting for Sheva to interpret passed between them.
Samson pulled the gate ajar and reached for Sheva’s bag. ‘Please come in, Doctor. There is a table and chairs on the side veranda, or you could use the study.’ His voice was refined, soft and genteel, opposite to what Sheva may have expected.
‘The study please, Samson.’ She glowered at Roy, but handed Samson the bag. ‘Less chance of cross-infection away from the dust. Thank you.’
The lips twitched in a parody of a smile. ‘I guess I’m outvoted.’ Roy swung the gate open with his right hand.
‘Welcome to Destiny, Doctor Singh.’
Chapter 18
Sheva followed Samson up the steps and onto the veranda. They turned away from the main entry and walked toward a plain wooden door at the end of the veranda.
The high ceilinged room had an office desk with two large computer monitors, both switched on to show spreadsheets and flow-charts. Metal filing cabinets and wooden bookshelves lined the walls. Sheva scanned the collection. Books on accounting and management stood side-by-side with sporting tomes and spy thrillers. A leather office chair was pushed back from the desk. There were no photographs or pictures anywhere in the room.
Judging from the half-empty coffee mug and the sandwich crumbs on the plate by the computer, she had interrupted Roy at work.
On the other side of the room, there were two smaller
office chairs with a round table between them. Samson held one out for Sheva. ‘Would this do, Doctor? Would you like to wash?’ He pointed to a half open door to the right. ‘The bathroom’s over there.’
Sheva nodded. ‘Thanks, I would like to wash my hands before I take a look at the wound.’ She walked into the bathroom and shut the door after her. The stark white tiles and fittings were interrupted by pops of colour; two yellow roses in a vase by the sink and an orange hand towel with the monogram ‘BK’. She scrubbed and dried her hands, placed her hand on the door knob, then paused.
Roy’s voice was low. ‘No, I don’t want her to know anything. I can deal with this.’
‘Roy, you need a doctor. She’s the only one here, mate.’
The response was harsh, almost grunted. ‘No. I know what I am doing, Samson.’
‘You’re being obstinate, mate—’
Sheva pushed open the door, bringing the conversation to a halt. She smiled and sat down on the chair Samson had indicated earlier. Samson thought Roy needed a doctor. There was more here than a farm injury to his arm.
Well, she was a doctor and trained to diagnose the most intricate medical enigmas. If Roy was ill, she would find out.
Samson placed her bag on the table by her side. ‘Can I bring you a fruit juice? Or tea?’
‘A glass of cold water, please, Samson.’
Samson nodded and walked through a door which presumably led to the main house.
Roy dropped into the chair opposite her. ‘Dr Singh, thank you for doing this. I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful.’
Sheva suppressed a smile at the reluctant semi-apology. Twice in twenty-four hours; it was probably a record for him.
‘Please, call me Sheva.’
Samson came back with the glass of water. He placed it beside Sheva and moved over to remove the sling and peel the dressings from Roy’s left wrist. Sheva studied the injury and glanced up into Samson’s face.
‘Did you change the dressings?’
Samson nodded. ‘I did, Doctor. I didn’t think you, well, I didn’t expect you to come by today. The dressings were bloodstained. And—’ he glanced at Roy— ‘a little dusty after the drive back this morning.’
Sheva opened her bag. She slipped on her surgical gloves and examined the wound. The incision was clean. The gauze and antiseptic dressing were well placed over it. ‘You did a good job.’
Samson grinned and nodded. ‘Thanks, Doc —’
‘Samson is a qualified nurse physiotherapist. You don’t have to worry about him destroying your handiwork,’ Roy interjected.
‘Pity you didn’t leave a note to let us know you have a live-in nurse, when you snuck out of the ward at five this morning. No matter, I’m here now.’
Sheva ripped open the sterile packet of antiseptic wipes and cleaned the skin around the wound. The stitches were all in place. The cut was clean with no redness or evidence of infection. She swabbed over the sutures with a gauze dipped in spirits. ‘Your hair-raising drive at five this morning hasn’t done any harm to your wound or the sutures.’
The corded muscles of his forearm tensed and flexed under her fingers. ‘Sheva, thank you. The fact that the stitches are in place is more due to your expertise than my care of the wound. Do you think you could call me Roy? And who told you I left at five in the morning? Peter wasn’t in when I left.’
‘A friend. Dan Cooper is a National Parks ranger. You passed him when he was on his way to work. You were driving, ummm quite fast.’
‘Dan called me just before you drove in. He sounded a little concerned about your off-road driving skills. He asked me to call him back as soon as you arrived. That’s what I was doing, while you were entertaining the dogs at the gate. Sorry if they scared you. They’re harmless once you get to know them.’
Making friends with his hounds was not on her list of priorities.
She kept her eyes fixed on his arm and covered the wound with a fresh dressing from her bag. ‘You look flushed and may have a temperature. We can’t be too careful with farm injuries, there are some nasty bugs going around. I’d like to have a blood sample for testing. Just to make sure.’
The muscles tensed some more. His voice turned chilly. ‘Is it really necessary?’
She continued to keep her eyes on his arm. Dan had said her eyes were too expressive for her own good as they gave her away when she lied. She wasn’t taking chances with Roy.
‘I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise, Roy.’ She picked up a sterile syringe pack and a set of sealed blood containers, and labelled the individual vials. ‘I’ll take the blood from the other arm. Don’t worry, it’s just a little prick.’ She turned to his right arm and reached for the tourniquet.
She drew the blood, and filled six vials. Placing them in the cooler pack, she tucked it into her medical bag.
Roy smiled. The dimple flashed, sending a flicker of awareness through her.
A trace of amusement and a spark of admiration lurked in the grey depth of his eyes. ‘You make even a little prick seem pleasant. I didn’t feel a thing.’
‘And here was I expecting Roy to faint off.’ Samson guffawed.
Sheva smiled, swallowing the words she wanted to say: ‘Of course you didn’t feel a thing. With my training and experience, finding a vein in a muscular forearm like yours is like locating a Red Kangaroo in a mob of sheep.’
Instead, she shut the bag and stood up. ‘I need to get back to the clinic and get these blood samples—’ she gestured to her bag— ‘to the lab as soon as possible.’ She placed the packet of antibiotic capsules and her business card on the table. ‘Here are your antibiotics. The instructions are on the pack. Make sure you finish the course. You’ll get the invoice for the drugs by post.’
‘Call me—’ she glanced at Samson and slid her eyes to Roy— ‘if you want to talk to me about anything.’
Back in the bathroom, she washed her hands and strained to hear the conversation in the room. All she could hear was Samson muttering in an undertone.
Roy was alone in the room when she came out. He stood behind the computers, his eyes fixed on one of the screens until he noticed her. ‘I’ll come with you to the car,’ he said, and walked around the desk to hold the door open for her. ‘Dan Cooper asked me to call him when you left here.’ Roy walked along the veranda and down the steps with her.
Sheva shrugged. ‘Dan’s a good friend. He’s a real worrywart.’ They walked in silence to the gate.
‘Sheva, do you have a sister. Or a close female relative working as a nurse in Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Sydney?’
Keeping her eyes averted, she pushed the gate open. ‘I am not aware of any relatives in Sydney, or anywhere else in Australia.’
‘I met this girl at a party.’ Roy’s voice had softened. ‘She had your colour and build, and your smile.’ His laugh was embarrassed. ‘When I woke up in the clinic yesterday, I thought you were her, but only for a second.’
‘You were sedated,’ Sheva pushed on.
‘I realised my mistake soon.’
‘Oh, really? How?’
‘Forgive me, Doctor, but Annie was, well, she was a lot more—what can I say?—voluptuous and, I guess, sexier than you.’
Sheva bit her lip to control the angry retort bubbling up in her throat. ‘Fortunately, sexiness is not a criteria for general practice in Jindabyne.’ She shrugged. ‘I suppose us subcontinental women all look and sound alike to Anglo folk, Roy. I don’t blame you for finding a similarity.’
His eyes rested on her hair and moved to the hollow of her neck. ‘She had the most glorious long black hair and wore a little gold cross.’
Sheva shrugged. ‘Sounds like she made quite an impression on you.’
They walked around the car. ‘I guess you subcontinental women have a way of growing on a man.’
From somewhere inside
the house came a loud keening sound; part scream, part howl. Sheva swung round. ‘What is that sound? Is someone hurt?’
Roy grabbed her arm and pushed her towards the car. ‘The dogs get restless if we keep them locked up for any length of time.’
Sheva pulled her arm away from his grasp. ‘It sounded human, Roy, like someone in pain.’
‘Trust me, it’s the dogs.’ He opened the front door of the car and almost shoved her in.
‘It didn’t sound like—’
‘No, Sheva. Go back to Jindabyne.’
She slid in and allowed him to shut the door after her. He waited till she started the car. ‘Drive safely, Doc. I don’t want to get in trouble with your boyfriend.’
‘Boyfriend?’ Sheva spluttered. She pressed down on the accelerator and the car shot forward, bumping over the uneven road.
‘Men and their arrogant assumptions,’ she groused.
Sheva drove off the mud road and braked to a stop next to Dan’s SUV parked at the end of Mowamba Drive. He jumped out and came around to her window.
‘Something annoyed you. You came down the track like you had a rocket—’
‘Don’t even think it,’ she snapped. ‘Before you ask, he asked me if I had a relative who was a nurse. Then, he said how for a moment in the clinic yesterday he thought I was Annie, but then he realised Annie was much more voluptuous and sexy. The arrogant sexist oaf.’
Dan burst into laughter.
‘There is nothing funny about—’
‘It’s hilarious. Sheva, you’re jealous of Annie.’
Chapter 19
Royston Broughton-Knight stared at the computer screen. His accountant Colin had just sent him the administrative structure of the latest project, a mining company in Kalgoorlie. Roy’s eyes flicked to the other computer screen. The spreadsheet showed detailed financial statements for the company.
He would never understand how anyone could let a company get into such dire straits. Pulling it out of the rut would be a ‘by the shoestrings’ operation, and painful all round. He knew he could do it. Just as he had done many times before, successfully.
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