Heart Of The Outback, Volume 2

by Margaret Way

  CHAPTER THREE

  LAUREN put a cup of tea down on the table in front of Steffi, slopping the hot liquid over the edge of the cup before sitting back with her feet on the table, flicking though a bridal magazine heavily tagged with little yellow stickers.

  Steffi grabbed a serviette and mopped up the spill. “What essential items are on the agenda tonight? Retractable heels on our stilettos so we can move from aisle-walking to disco? Toothpicks monogrammed with intertwined initials of the bride and groom?”

  Lauren waved her hand to brush the comments aside. “You think I’m crazy? I sorted all that out weeks ago. All we have to do tonight is make a final decision on the flowers.” She paused. “And underwear. And jewellery. And you have to help me with my speech.”

  “All!” Steffi muttered under her breath. “Let’s get on with it. I’ve had a long day already.”

  Two hours later, the pile of magazines had been discarded and Steffi was paper-clipping together a number of neatly cut pages recording Lauren’s decisions.

  “Now we’ve done the important stuff, tell me how your day was.”

  Steffi put the papers on the coffee-table before leaning back on the couch and tucking her legs under her.

  “Long. Stressful. Tiring. In that order.” Hot, total turn-on, kissable. In that order.

  “Why stressful?”

  “Just having to find my way around somewhere new with different protocols, different people.” At least, that was the only part she was ready to share.

  “Why are you working anyway? You’re meant to be here on holidays.”

  Images of Matt vanished. Lauren was touching on serious issues now and maybe it was finally time to confide in someone. “Actually, what I really needed was to get away from my life in the city, have some time to regroup. A longer break from work would be great but I can’t afford to pass up the money and at least this gives me a break from the Prince Edward.” She named the hospital she’d been working at for the past few years.

  “I thought you were doing well? You always seem fine.”

  “Appearances can be deceptive.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “I’ve been having panic attacks. I hate my job. I can’t afford to live in the city.” She screwed her face up as if she’d saved the worst for last. “And Jess is being bullied at school.”

  Lauren’s mouth was hanging open.

  “Well?” asked Steffi.

  “Well, what? Where do I start? I’ve obviously been a lousy sister, wrapped up in Jack and the wedding. I had no idea.”

  “I didn’t want you to know. It’s never been all beer and skittles in Adelaide. I wouldn’t have survived this long if I’d kept unburdening myself to you all. I’ve just had to get on with things.”

  “If you don’t want us to know something, you’re the master of disguise?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m relieved you’ve told me but why didn’t you tell me before things got out of control?”

  “I thought coming home for a few weeks might just take the pressure off us, give me a chance to sort things out, and it was perfect timing with your wedding. I imagined all I needed was a bit of a break and everything would right itself.”

  “And now?”

  “It’s not so clear cut. I need to think seriously about whether Adelaide is the right place for Jess and me any more.” “What’s not so clear cut?”

  Steffi spread her hands out in an encompassing gesture. “All of it. For a start, the panic attacks haven’t just gone away, like I was hoping.”

  “Have you had treatment?”

  “No, that’s partly why I thought it was time I spoke to you. I need your recommendation for someone to see here.”

  Lauren didn’t hesitate. “See Nadine Robbins, she’s a psychologist. She’s very good, works with me with my teenage mother support groups.”

  Steffi nodded, mentally filing the name away. “And I’m finding it harder and harder to make ends meet in the city. I’m working more overtime to survive financially but, as a result, I’ve not been around much for Jess. It was months before she told me about the bullying. If I’d had more time for her, she would’ve told me sooner.”

  “What happened with Jess?”

  “Picked on by a group of girls all last term, you know the type of thing.”

  “Not ready to talk about it?”

  “Not tonight, I’ve got to get to bed. I’m working again tomorrow, and you’ve still got to drive home.”

  “You know you do have to keep talking this through with me? I might be a self-obsessed bride-to-be right now, but even I don’t think the colour of wedding serviettes is as important as your well-being.”

  “Thanks. How do I rate against the dresses and wedding food?”

  “Equal first.”

  Steffi swatted Lauren on the arm and Lauren leant across on the couch and gathered her up in a hug.

  “Thanks.” Steffi’s voice was muffled against Lauren’s shoulder.

  “Any time.” She leant back again. “And I mean any time.” She pinched Steffi on her upper arm for good measure.

  “Ow!” Steffi rubbed her arm and laughed. “You might be about to get married but you’re still an annoying little sister.” She felt like rubbing her eyes, too. She was tired but it felt as though a load had been lifted from her shoulders. Maybe she’d made a mistake in hiding behind her mask of being the perfect single parent, endlessly upbeat, energetic and successful at juggling the impossible. She was feeling a little more like her old self than she had in months. A little.

  Matt found himself shortening his stride for Steffi to keep pace. She was tiny but athletic, all neat, toned limbs and beautifully in proportion despite being small. And somehow, despite her height, she’d still managed to be blessed with long legs. It had never occurred to him before that petite women could be long-legged relative to their height, but she was. Her legs, brown and smooth, were bare under her knee-length navy and white uniform. He looked across at her and smiled and was glad she was there.

  “I never got to check on Bobby yesterday after the callout. I’m heading that way now. Do you want to join me?”

  “Sure.”

  Matt knocked on the door and held it open for Steffi to enter, watching how her gold ponytail sat smooth and sleek before flicking out to one side, an endearing little imperfection.

  Bobby held up a hand in greeting.

  “How are you coming along?” Matt picked up chart and glanced at the notations.

  “Not too bad. My ankle hurts like crazy but I guess that’s no surprise.”

  “Keeping up your pain relief?”

  Bobby grimaced.

  Steffi was taking his pulse. “He’s being a hero, aren’t you? Trying to do me out of a job by refusing any medication.”

  “There’s no shame in taking something for your pain. In fact, it will enable you to relax and give your body time to start healing. And with the fracture you gave yourself, most men would be pumping the IV line as hard as they could.”

  Bobby looked a little appeased. “Maybe I should have just a bit.”

  Matt wrote him up for some painkillers and Steffi took the chart to record his obs before slipping out of the room to fetch the medications.

  “You were lucky, all things considered,” Matt said. “Your fractured ankle is nasty but things could have been a lot worse. How are you feeling generally?”

  “OK, I guess. When will I be walking again? And when can I go back to work?”

  “I’ll be honest with you. On average it’s about three months before you can expect to be walking comfortably. And it may be a lot longer before you can spend prolonged periods of time on your feet, if at all. I realise that’s imperative in your job but at this stage I’d say you’ll have to wait and see. There are no guarantees. I’m sorry.”

  Bobby looked gloomy. “I don’t know how to do anything else but I guess I won’t have anything to do anyway until the
trawler’s sorted out.”

  “Any news on that?”

  “Johnno’s trawler is history but I guess he won’t be needing it any more anyway. There’s damage to six others, enough to stop them going out to sea, which is affecting everyone’s income. Such a stupid thing to have happened.”

  “I imagine there’ll be a delay to any repairs while the insurance company investigates.”

  “Yeah. But it looks like Johnno was refuelling while some guys were repairing the wharf. Apparently they were using an angle grinder and it was a spark that ignited the fuel. How Johnno couldn’t have noticed them working nearby is beyond everyone.”

  “You, at least, are one of the lucky ones. You survived. The main thing for you now is to concentrate on getting that foot better. Easier said than done, I know, when your livelihood’s up in the air. Are you all right financially in the meantime?”

  “The pay’s good and I’ve saved a fair bit. Plus, the boss has to have us covered by worker’s compensation insurance so once those payments kick in I’ll be OK.”

  “Let the staff know if they can help you get in touch with anyone if you get stuck.”

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  “No problem.”

  Matt headed for the door, wedging it open with his canvas sneaker. “Oh, and, Bobby? Use the pain relief. If nothing else, it gives the nurses something to do.”

  Steffi re-entered the room at that moment with Bobby’s medication and hit Matt on the arm in response to his comment. There was laughter in her eyes and a smile on her face. She seemed less tense than she had at the wharf the other day, or even yesterday at work but then, that was probably to be expected. She stepped past him, skirting around him and his sneaker-clad foot still propping the door open. He was surprised to hear himself mutter, “It’s good to have you on board.”

  She looked equally surprised. “Thanks,” she just managed to say as Matt nodded to Bobby then walked from the room, the sound of Steffi chatting to her patient fading as he let the door swing shut behind him.

  Steffi felt self-conscious as she entered the cafeteria on her morning break. She’d been hoping Matt would be here and they could have a coffee together. She gave a half shrug. OK, maybe it was a bit gauche to come seeking him out like this, but it wasn’t like she had a whole lot of friends just dying to catch up with her here at work. And Matt hadn’t done anything other than be friendly so there was no reason he’d know her skin tingled deliciously whenever he was near. It was only natural to seek out a friendly face but it looked like he wasn’t here.

  The room was filled with hospital staff on their morning teabreaks but Matt definitely wasn’t there and the idea of being alone in a sea of laughing, chatting people didn’t appeal. She grabbed an iced coffee from the fridge and paid for it, then headed back out to the payphone in the corridor.

  Her mother answered on the first ring.

  “Waiting for my call?” Steffi leant against the wall, slipping one slender foot out of her shoe and rubbing it against her calf.

  “No, dear, but it’s nice to hear from you. Everything okay?”

  “Yes, just wanted to hear how you got on at the caterer’s this morning. Jess behave herself?”

  “As always. Did you know the caterer is the sister of one of Lauren and Jack’s colleagues?”

  “Is there a less roundabout way to run that by me? Who is who and who is related to who?”

  “Matt, who works at the AAS—his sister Anna is catering the wedding. She has a little girl, Susie, Jess’s age.”

  “I know.” At least, she’d known Matt’s sister had a daughter.

  “You do? So you won’t mind if we get them together?”

  Steffi opened her mouth to protest but her mother was on a roll. “Because Jess is missing friends her own age and she and Susie really hit it off.”

  “We’ll talk about it tonight, Mum, but I’m sure it’ll probably be all right.”

  She ended the call and sat on a nearby bench, opening her iced coffee and taking a long drink. The fates seemed intent on linking her with Matt and part of her was eager to see what might happen. In fact, given that she’d gone in search of him herself just now, she couldn’t really lay sole blame on the fates.

  He was gorgeous, he did obscene things to her hormone levels and, as far as she knew, he was single. Could they just be friends? She’d never tried that before. She’d never even tried a relationship with a man before, other than with Jess’s father—and that could hardly be called a great success. There were too many complicating factors in her life right now to contemplate a serious relationship, but if there was one thing the panic attacks were yelling at her it was to take some time for herself, de-stress and stop to smell the roses. Wouldn’t making a friend be doing something for her?

  Somewhere between the third and fourth gulps of her drink, sense returned and her long list of priorities danced before her eyes. Making new friends wasn’t high up on her agenda, maybe only a few points in front of concern about how her hair looked. She stood up and fished a piece of paper and her phone card from her pocket, slipped the card into the phone and dialled the number jotted on the paper. This time it took five rings to be answered, but when she hung up, she mentally ticked off the first item on today’s list.

  “So you had the first attack out of the blue three months ago and you’ve had them on and off ever since.” Nadine, the young psychologist Lauren had recommended, was sitting cross-legged on a comfy-looking chair opposite Steffi in an office filled with pleasant scents from an aromatherapy burner and decorated with funky prints on the wall.

  Steffi nodded. In her sudden moment of bravery yesterday she’d rung Nadine and been given a cancelled appointment slot for today. Then she’d started to worry she’d be told she was unbalanced, even though she knew that wasn’t the case. At the beginning of her appointment she’d been squished as far into the corner of her chair as she could get but she could feel herself starting to relax now. It wasn’t turning into the ordeal she’d imagined.

  “I was convinced I was having a myocardial infarction.” She thought back to the terror she’d felt when she’d suddenly started having chest pain. Not to mention heart palpitations, sweating and feeling like she was being smothered. She’d been sure she was dying and had been bewildered when her symptoms had passed as quickly as they had come. By the time she’d suffered another few attacks, she’d been certain she must be extremely ill. It had taken numerous visits to her GP and multiple tests to convince her she was physically healthy and didn’t have cardiac disease or something even more sinister.

  Steffi described the symptoms and how she’d felt. None of what she was telling Nadine seemed to surprise her or make her think she was going crazy. Steffi relaxed and told her some more about the last few months.

  “From what we’ve talked about, the attacks don’t seem to be precipitated by anything in particular.” Steffi nodded and Nadine continued, “That’s what we call uncued, or unexpected, panic attacks.”

  They started to talk about the thoughts Steffi had during her attacks. The worst was that she was suffocating or having a heart attack, even though she knew that she had no physiological medical condition. They moved onto the types of things Steffi had started to do to try and control or avoid her attacks and Nadine seemed happy when Steffi couldn’t think of any, so presumably that was a good thing. Nadine was filling in a diagram as they spoke and taking notes. Steffi hoped she’d have a magic solution jotted down for her by the end of the session.

  “You haven’t been prescribed diazepam or something else for this?”

  “No. My GP suggested using an anxiolytic but I didn’t want to. I was hoping having a break from the city would make me better.”

  “I spoke to your GP in Adelaide this morning, like we talked about on the phone yesterday, and although I know it’s hard to go over all this again, I needed to hear it all from you and make my own diagnosis.”

  “What is your diagnosis?”

  “No su
rprises for you—panic disorder.”

  “I’d rather you said I’ve been imagining it.”

  Nadine smiled. “It’s not as bad as you think. I believe we’re just looking at panic disorder. It’s not co-morbid with any other condition and it’s of relatively short duration so far. You’ve also never suffered any other mental health disorder so I’m confident of a good result in the not too distant future.” She was looking at Steffi with eyes that were kind but keen, missing nothing as she went on, “Although much of your success will depend on your willingness to work at it.”

  “I’m here now so I’ve got the hardest bit over and done with in my mind.” She sat up straighter in her chair. “I’d hoped it would just stop when I came back to Port Cadney but it hasn’t so I realise I need to do something about it. What are we going to do?” She wasn’t really holding her breath for a magic solution but any reasonable-sounding plan of action would be like manna from heaven.

  “Studies show psychological techniques have better results with panic disorder than medication, so it’s perfectly OK that you hold off on that path, at least for now.” Nadine stood up and walked over to a large filing cabinet. “I want to see you again in a week, and in the meantime …” she opened a drawer and pulled out a handout “… start on this.” She handed the notes headed “Diary” to Steffi and explained how to keep a record of any attacks she had before their next appointment, concentrating on the thoughts she had during an attack.

  “And this will help?”

  “It’s the first step in your treatment plan and, yes, we have good results with this particular set of techniques. Do you want me to give you another summary of what we’re looking at?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Given your background, it’s most likely the panic attacks were brought on by an acute period of stress, exacerbating an already stressful life. It’s not an unusual condition, especially among women, and you’re also in a high-risk age bracket. You’ve already grasped the essentials of this disorder, that the physical sensations you experience are normal but you’re misinterpreting them as catastrophic, like a heart attack or imminent death, and so you’ve started to focus overly on the symptoms. All of which has made your attacks worse. Our aim is to work to correct those misinterpretations. Make sense?”