‘What do you think?’ Linda snorted. ‘I don’t remember him ever going to a doctor, let alone his own GP. I’ve been on his back for the last twenty or thirty years to find someone he trusts, to get himself checked out regularly. But with Milt it’s “do as I say, not as I do”. He thinks he’s bulletproof.’
‘Yes, I can imagine,’ she said.
‘It’s his prostate, isn’t it? I bet it’s riddled with cancer. I bet he’s got secondaries everywhere.’ She blew her nose and Laura retrieved the box of tissues from the dresser.
‘He’d need to have some tests before a diagnosis could be made but given his age and the symptoms you describe, there could be something going on with his prostate.’
‘It’d be just like him to up and die of cancer before we got to actually enjoy our lives.’
Linda sounded angry now and Laura took a mental deep breath.
‘How do you think I can help?’
‘I don’t know,’ Linda said, anger evaporating as fast as it had come. ‘I just thought that you might be able to talk to him . . .’ She trailed off, a hopeful expression on her face.
‘I would talk to him, but I’m not sure he’d listen to me.’
Linda reached out, put a hand on Laura’s arm. ‘Of course he would. He’s said what a skilled GP you are. How you’ve picked up things he’s missed.’ As soon as she’d said it Linda put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my goodness! Now look what I’ve said. Don’t you ever, ever, let on I told you that. I’d never hear the end of it.’
‘Of course not,’ she murmured. It was news to her that Milt Burns thought she was a good GP.
Linda stood up and began pacing around the kitchen. She came to a sudden halt and peered out the kitchen window, her back to Laura. When she spoke, Laura had to strain to hear.
‘I know he wants to cut back,’ Linda said, ‘but what he needs is to retire. But he just can’t seem to let go. This place, the people, his practice, they’ve been his life. I don’t know what to say to him anymore. If I raise the subject, he either ignores me or it ends in an argument.’ She turned to face Laura. ‘I keep telling him, with you here it’s a golden opportunity for him to step back. I don’t mean to presume anything, Laura, and I have no idea what your long-term plans are, but I just wish Milt would do something proactive about his health and his retirement – not just talk about it – before it’s too late.’
Laura opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. What was there to say?
‘Perhaps we could have that coffee now. I know I need one,’ said Linda.
Laura jumped to her feet and busied herself with the coffee machine.
‘I hope I haven’t scared you off completely,’ Linda said, when they were settled with coffees in front of them.
‘No, you haven’t,’ Laura said slowly. ‘And as far as long-term plans go —’ An image of Jake popped into her head and something swelled deep inside. ‘Well, I haven’t made any long-term plans.’ With Jake, well, if anything did happen there, it’d only ever end in goodbye. ‘But I am fond of my neighbour, Neill Finlay, and I’m helping with his terminal care.’
Since coming to Potters Junction she’d been living her life a day at a time and then, as things got better, a week at a time. When she’d agreed to work part-time at the health centre, all she’d thought about was the immediate future, how it would help her get back to work, rebuild her confidence. Maybe the time had come for her to sit down and really think about what she was doing here, where she was going with her medical career. No point giving everyone false hope if she was going back to Adelaide to pick up where she’d left off.
‘Laura, I apologise for coming to you with all this. I did try to talk myself out of it, but I’m worried about Milt. He can be such a stubborn old so-and-so.’
‘It’s all right. And if it’s any consolation, Kaylene and I had noticed that Milt is grumpier than usual. I’ll say something to him, but I can’t promise he’ll listen.’
Linda finished her coffee. ‘Thank you, Laura, that would be wonderful. I’m sure he will listen, even if he pretends otherwise.’
There was no sign of the apprehensive woman who’d knocked on Laura’s door forty-five minutes earlier. Linda collected their cups and took them to the sink. She looked out the kitchen window into Laura’s backyard and said, ‘I guess you won’t be going anywhere until you’ve harvested that lovely crop of tomatoes.’
‘No, I guess I won’t be.’
The conversation with Linda left Laura feeling edgy. She had no idea how she was going to talk to Milt Burns about his health. The man didn’t exactly invite conversation or confidences. And if he was as sick as his wife suspected, what would that mean for Potters Junction and the health centre? There was the nub of Laura’s disquiet. If she decided Adelaide was where her future lay, and Milt Burns was sick and had to retire, it would leave Potters Junction without a GP. Meghan Kimble’s workload, which was big enough already, would be unmanageable. When she had this conversation with Milt, Laura needed to be clear in her own mind what she was prepared to offer Potters Junction in the way of an ongoing commitment. The last thing she wanted was to be pressured into making a long-term career decision she’d later regret.
Laura took the eggs out of the fridge and put them on the bench so they’d be ready to use for the pavlova base later. She quartered and cored an apple, brewed a cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table to sort through more of Dorrie’s boxes.
An hour later Laura held up a slim bundle of letters tied together with a red ribbon. She pulled off the ribbon and opened the first yellowing envelope, quickly scanning the single page it contained. Her eyes widened. The letter wasn’t signed but she recognised the handwriting immediately. It was a lot scratchier these days but there was no mistaking the distinctive scrawl.
Oh. My. God.
Her eyes skimmed over the clever prose, pulse banging in her ears. Her fingers trembled as she opened another envelope. She felt herself blush, felt like a voyeur, remembered the recent conversation she’d had with Neill. She pushed the pages back into their envelopes and quickly squared the stack of correspondence. Retying them with the faded ribbon, she slid them between a pile of old knitting patterns. She’d think about what to do with them while she was painting the floor.
‘Dad, hold still, will ya?’
Jake was fast finding out that dressing someone else was nothing like dressing yourself. And when had Neill stopped being able to dress himself? When Jake had been out at the farm working and the outreach nurses had started doing everything for the old man, he supposed. Jake’s gut clenched. It had been a matter of weeks. It was all moving too fast.
‘I’ll need to put another notch in your belt,’ he said and slipped it out from the loops around the waist of the trousers. ‘Sit down while I do it, or your strides will fall down.’
‘This shirt needs ironing,’ Neill said and held up the offending item. ‘I can’t wear it like this.’ He tossed it back onto the bed.
‘Jeez, when did you get so particular?’ Jake went to the wardrobe to rummage through the musty smelling rack of shirts. ‘What about this one?’
‘Too thick, it’s a winter shirt.’
‘This one?’
‘Buttons missing.’
‘This?’
‘Doesn’t go with the trousers.’
‘Bloody hell, fashion conscious as well! I suppose I’ll have to iron this one then.’ Jake plucked the shirt up off the bed.
‘Thanks, boy, and we’d better get a move on. Laura will be here at eleven to drive us out. Wouldn’t want to be late for my last birthday party.’
Jake examined the belt in his hand, smoothing a thumb across the worn leather. ‘Have you still got that leather punch?’
‘It should be in those drawers on the bench. That’s if you didn’t throw it out.’
Jake looked at Neill, perched on the edge of the unmade bed. His emaciated arms protruded from a sagging singlet and his bony fingers clutched at the wa
ist of baggy trousers, his chest seesawing like a pair of old bellows. The stone that had taken up residence in Jake’s chest got heavier.
‘You look lovely, lass,’ Neill said.
Laura wore a summery dress of swirling blues and greens, and strappy sandals on her feet. She looked gorgeous. Jake felt his dark mood lift a little. Her skin was golden from the hours she spent working outside; there were sun-burnished highlights in her glossy dark hair. Although he hadn’t liked it at first, the short hairstyle she wore did look good on her.
‘You scrub up pretty well yourself,’ she said to Neill and then turned her blue gaze to Jake. ‘You both do.’
He’d worn his best pair of jeans and a sage-coloured cotton shirt – the only one he’d brought with him. Because he’d had to get the ironing board and iron out to do Neill’s shirt, he’d ironed his own as well. The first time it’d ever been in contact with the hot side of an iron.
Neill was huffing and puffing by the time they settled him into the car and Jake wondered for the hundredth time if this was such a good idea.
‘He’ll be okay once he gets his breath again,’ Laura said quietly, as if reading his thoughts. ‘I’ve got my bag and I’ve borrowed a small oxygen cylinder from the hospital, just in case.’ He kept forgetting they had a doctor at the wheel.
During the drive out to the farm, Jake watched his father take in the familiar countryside. From the way Neill’s head moved from side to side, like a spectator at the tennis, Jake suspected the old man didn’t want to miss anything. They all knew it would be his last trip out to the place he’d lived at and worked on for most of his life. Jake caught Laura’s eyes in the rear-view mirror and he knew she was thinking along similar lines.
‘Country’s pretty dry and it’s barely summer,’ Neill said.
‘Dad, the country’s always dry out here.’
‘Dryer now than it used to be. It’s the effects of global warming, I’d say.’
‘Now there’s something we both agree on,’ Jake said.
Jess and the boys came out to greet them when they arrived and to help Neill. ‘Happy birthday,’ they chorused.
‘Maybe we should have borrowed a wheelchair,’ Jess said, but Jake shook his head and gently lifted Neill out of the car and carried him the short distance into the house. Neill didn’t try to stop him.
The sitting room looked bright and festive. Christmas bunting decorated the mantelpiece, streamers and tinsel had been strung across the windows.
‘We put up the decorations yesterday,’ Sam said proudly. ‘And the Christmas tree. Dad usually does it but he’s not here.’
There was a tense moment, Sam looked uncomfortable and then Jess put her arm around his shoulders and pulled him against her.
‘But we managed, didn’t we, mate?’ she said and he nodded vigorously.
‘Seeing as it’s nearly Christmas, Dad, I thought we’d combine it with your birthday, so it’s turkey with all the trimmings.’
Jake could see behind his sister’s cheerfulness. She still looked hollowed out with hurt and he felt a new twist of anger towards her absent husband.
‘Yeah, Mum said you wouldn’t be here on Christmas Day, Poppa, so we’re having it now,’ said Mikey. Everyone in the room froze and Mikey pushed on, oblivious. ‘But we can’t have our presents yet and we didn’t get you anything because Mum said you wouldn’t be needing anything where you were going.’
‘Mikey, shut up.’ Sam cuffed his younger brother.
‘Shall I put the pavlova in the fridge?’ Laura asked, proffering a Tupperware container and a basket of garden produce.
‘Of course,’ Jess said, the words like a sigh of relief. ‘And Dad, we’re just glad you could make it. It makes today very special. Do you want a drink? Sam, get Poppa a drink if he wants one. Laura, follow me. We’ll eat in about fifteen minutes.’
Jess lifted the turkey roast onto the board to carve. They’d be eating bread and Vegemite if it weren’t for Jake’s generosity. The overdraft was maxed to the limit and navigating to the moon would be easier than navigating Centrelink. The woman on the phone had promised her everything would be sorted out before Christmas, but Jess wasn’t holding her breath.
‘What can I do to help?’ Laura asked.
‘A winning lottery ticket?’ Jess said, swatting a blowfly away from the meat.
‘That bad, huh?’
Jess forced a smile. ‘We’ll survive.’
‘Jess —’
‘Ignore me, please. I’m trying hard, but sometimes it’s hard trying.’ Jess began slicing the meat. ‘Maybe you could do the gravy. Everything’s on the bench by the stove, it just needs making. There’s an apron hanging on the back of the door, I’d hate to see your lovely dress get splattered.’
‘Have you been sleeping?’ Laura said a few minutes later as she stirred the thickening gravy.
Jess transferred the sliced meat onto the serving plate. ‘Not much. I either can’t sleep or I get to sleep and wake up an hour later and that’s it.’
‘Appetite?’
‘None. I just feel sick all the time. I feel like the carpet’s been ripped out from under me and any minute the ceiling is going to crash down on top of my head.’
‘Ring the health centre first thing in the morning. I’ll fit you in.’
Laura turned off the gas stove, rested the wooden spoon on the side of the pan. She walked around the table and put her hands on Jess’s shoulders, turning her to face her.
‘If you don’t ring, I’ll ring you. And I’ll keep ringing you until you come and see me. I’ll stalk you if I have to.’
At first Jess resisted the display of support but she eventually relented and let Laura put her arms around her. Before she knew what she was doing, Jess found herself clinging to Laura, tears of relief coursing down her cheeks.
Lunch was over, the pavlova history. Neill was having a rest, Sam and Mikey were watching a DVD and the dishes were done.
‘Jake, why don’t you take Laura for a drive out to the bluff? I’m going to put my feet up for a while.’
Laura glanced from one sibling to the other. ‘The bluff?’
‘It’s a hill really, with a bit of scrub. It’s on the northern boundary of the property, the highest point,’ said Jake. ‘Pretty good views north to the Flinders Ranges. We used to camp out there when we were kids.’
‘Yeah, we did, lots of times.’ Jess nudged Jake with her knee. ‘Until you discovered girls and didn’t have time for your sister. After that you just wanted to take them out there to make out.’
Jake flicked her with the tea towel. ‘Careful, or I might just start spilling some of your secrets.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Jess said and then zeroed in on Laura’s sandals. ‘You might need something different on your feet. And a hat, if you’ve got one.’
‘No hat but I do have sneakers in the car.’
‘You continue to amaze me, Laura. You’re always prepared. You could have been a boy scout,’ Jake said and draped the tea towel over a cupboard door to dry. ‘We’ll have to take your car. The track’s in reasonable nick.’
Ten minutes later they were bouncing along a rough track, with Jake at the wheel. If this was reasonable Laura would hate to know what unreasonable was. They hit an extra deep pothole and Laura glanced sideways. Her heart gave a lurch at the sight of him, jaw shadowed, hair flopping across his forehead. Over lunch, she’d observed the way he interacted with his family, and the way they almost worshipped the ground he stood on.
He threw her a sideways look and she returned his grin.
‘I feel like I’m one of those girls Jess was talking about,’ she said, and he wiggled his eyebrows. Hazel eyes darkened and Laura’s stomach fluttered.
‘This is the western boundary of the property,’ Jake said, focussing his attention back on the track. ‘The only really arable land is along here. It’s dry but if Dad was still at the helm he probably would have had a crop in this paddock. Although, these days, with what it co
sts to get it in the ground, you’d be lucky if you broke even so maybe Darren made the right decision.’
‘Must be tough. What’ll Jess do?’
His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. ‘I don’t think she knows yet. It’s too soon.’
Laura took in the barren landscape, the clumps of native vegetation in the distance, the sheep relentlessly grazing on nothing much at all. They passed what must have been a dam, already an empty crater this early in summer. Dust billowed out behind the vehicle and, although it wasn’t outrageously hot, heat shimmered across the landscape.
‘Generally, the fences are pretty good, but the property doesn’t have much else going for it. The machinery is old, the sheds are falling down.’
‘What would you do, if you were making the decisions?’
‘Maybe run more head of sheep.’ He squinted towards the horizon. ‘But the smartest thing would be to lease it all out, because you’d be lucky to sell it the way the market is. And there’s better land for sale in the vicinity if you had the money to buy.’
‘Sounds like you’ve been doing some research.’
‘I’ve had a bit of a look on the internet.’
They drove for several more minutes before Jake stopped the car to open a gate. Off from the side of the track a windmill creaked and clanked. Green grass sprouted around the base of a leaking tank and the muddy ground by the trough was pockmarked by sheep’s hooves.
‘Tank needs replacing,’ Jake said as he swung back into the car. ‘Underground water is hard as nails so nothing lasts.’
‘Is this it?’ Laura asked as Jake dropped the car down to a lower gear and they slowly climbed towards a rocky outcrop with a smattering of low trees.
‘Yep, this is it, the highest point of the place. When I was a kid I’d come up here and pretend I was on top of the world.’ He parked the car in the shade of a solitary gum tree. ‘On foot from here.’
Laura tied on her sneakers and they headed up the short, steep slope.
‘Wow,’ she breathed, when they arrived at the top. ‘What a view! All the way to the Flinders Ranges.’ She flapped her hands in front of her face. ‘Are the flies always this friendly?’
The Doctor Calling Page 25