by Annie Seaton
Emma stood by the side of the bed and put her hands on her hips. ‘So what things were you moving?’ She had a fair idea.
This time George squirmed in the bed and he jutted his chin out. ‘Just some things that belong to me.’
‘Do you think you stepped into someone else’s territory? Maybe where they had their things, ah . . . shall we say, growing?’
‘Maybe that was it.’ This time his smile was crafty.
‘Okay. I guess I can’t make you tell me, but you can promise to stay out of trouble from now on?’
‘All right. I promise. I just don’t want to have the police involved. It’s okay, love. I’ll be more careful next time. Spit to death and hope to die.’
Emma grinned; she hadn’t heard that phrase since the primary school playground. She reached over and touched his hair lightly. ‘I worry about you George.’
His mouth stretched in a wide grin and he lifted up the empty paper bag. ‘Wouldn’t happen to have another one of these, would you?’
‘Don’t change the subject.’ His quick admission that he’d been up to something was out of character for the argumentative old sod. She had no intention of letting it go. One way or another she’d find out who the coward was who’d taken to an elderly man and left him unconscious deep in the rainforest.
‘I might have a look around when I go out to Wilma’s to get the bark.’ She dropped her head and lifted her stethoscope, watching him from beneath her lids.
She was taken aback by the fear that crossed his face but when she lifted her head to meet his eye, the expression had disappeared.
‘No!’
‘Why not?’
George ignored her question. He scrunched up the paper bag and put it down on the bed tray. ‘There’s no need. I’ll go out again and get that bark stuff for you in a few days. The witch wasn’t home.’
‘George!’
‘Sorry, sorry. The old woman wasn’t home and I didn’t go on her land like you said. I know she’s your friend so I’ll go back out and get your stuff and check on her. You’re too busy.’
‘You’re going to get yourself better before you go anywhere. I’ve got a day off tomorrow and I’m going out to see Wilma. If she’s not there, I’ll go out and get it myself.’
‘No! I don’t want you going out there.’ George’s scrawny fingers circled her wrist.
‘Why on earth not? Look George, if there’s such a problem out there, you’d better tell me. It’s unusual for Wilma not to be home.’
‘Well, just go to her place, but don’t go wandering around in the bush.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘There’s a lot of snakes about, like at your place. It’s not safe. It would be better if you didn’t go out there at all. You know how you hate them. And I heard the old woman’s got a houseful of ’em. The fellas at the pub reckon she keeps some strange pets.’
Emma sighed.
‘Hmm. I’ve never seen any snakes out there. I think it’s a bit of pub gossip.’ She stood and took the bag from the tray and lobbed it into the bin beside the bed. ‘I’ll go and look at the X-ray and we’ll see how long you have to stay. Probably just tonight if your arm’s not broken.’
‘The lady down there already said it ain’t broke. She told me, so I can go home now.’
Emma shook her head as she tipped his head back gently and looked at his eyes again. ‘Not with that dizzy head. One more night and I’ll take you back tomorrow.’
‘No.’
‘You’ll get three good meals here.’
‘The food here is crap.’
‘And I’ll bring you another pastry.’ She stared him down and finally he dropped his head.
‘All right. So long as you promise to take me back home tomorrow.’
‘I’ll call in tomorrow afternoon. Be ready. Okay?’
‘I’ll be ready,’ he grumbled.
Emma gave him a wave and headed for the door. Snakes be damned. That was just an excuse. George was hiding something. The sooner she went out to the forest to check on Wilma, the happier she would be. It was odd for her to go away and not let Emma know.
And besides, it would give her something to focus on instead of her disappointment about the Outreach job going to Jeremy.
Chapter 9
Monday afternoon
Dalrymple Hospital
Jeremy leaned back in the chair in his office—actually it was more of a cubby-hole behind the nurses’ station—and stretched his arms, fighting the yawn that threatened. The starting date for the contract had been put back a week and the director had asked him if he was willing to fill in at the hospital for two weeks. If he’d known that he would have delayed his arrival. He had no choice. The hospital was understaffed and he’d already received a few heartfelt thanks from the nursing staff as he visited patients. For a rural hospital, the day had been busy and after he’d read through the emails he’d received and organised to meet with the regional director, he’d helped out in the wards. It was nothing like the frenetic pace of St Vincent’s. A fresh start was good but the fear of being called to the emergency ward constantly filled his thoughts. It had been hard enough being in there with George. He’d been up and down the stairs to the wards a couple of dozen times, and taken a few trips over to the aged care building, but so far he’d managed to avoid the emergency ward.
There had been one bad moment when the duty doctor had asked him to collect a file from emergency on his way past. He’d stood outside for a few minutes and pretended to check his phone. Flashing blue and red lights from the ambulance bay flickered through the door as he hovered in the hall.
‘Are you all right, Dr Langford?’
He’d swung around at the soft voice. Greg was standing there with a takeaway coffee in his hand looking at him curiously. He looked into the car park. There was not an ambulance in sight.
‘Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Just getting used to this heat.’ He nodded briskly and fled back up to the wards before sending one of the nurses back down for the file. Guilt kicked in; what if there was a fully-fledged emergency? Or worse, a drug overdose? What would he do? He felt like he was shirking work. Emergency was always the busiest part of any hospital.
‘We really appreciated you pitching in this week, Dr Langford.’
He looked up. Jenny Lennox was standing in the doorway with her bag over her arm.
‘Please call me Jeremy,’ he said. ‘No need to be formal now.’
‘So you’ve had a good day?’
‘I have.’ Jeremy smiled. ‘Very different to what I’m used to in Sydney but I’ve enjoyed every minute.’ And he had. Most of it, anyway. The staff were pleasant and inclusive, the patients friendly and the hospital had been a hive of activity all day. He’d coped well apart from that damned ambulance he’d imagined.
‘So where are you living?’
‘I’ve got a room at the pub at the moment, but I’m looking for a place of my own as soon as I can.’
‘To buy or rent?’
Jeremy knew she was digging to see how long he intended staying. It was so different to the city hospitals where there was rarely time for a personal conversation.
‘Not sure yet. What are the prices like around here?’ He stood and followed her up the hall.
‘Depends where you want to live. Houses in town are as cheap as chips, but there are some pretty swish places out towards Wonga Beach.’ Jenny pulled out her keys and unlocked the door at the end of the corridor. Jeremy held it open for her as she walked through.
‘Are you up here by yourself?’ she probed. ‘Or do you have a family to follow you up?’ Jeremy didn’t mind her curiosity. He’d found today that people were genuinely interested. Everyone had welcomed him warmly—except for Emma. It was a wonder he didn’t have frostbite from the chilly reception he’d got there.
‘No, just me.’
‘I tell you what. On Friday nights, a small group of us meet for dinner at the sports club.’ They walked across the car park together. ‘Some of the local teachers, the ve
t, the new paralegal at the solicitor and the real estate agent will be there, and most of us from the hospital turn up. We call ourselves the “Young Professionals”.’
‘Sounds like fun.’
‘We know it’s a silly name but the guy that started the group way back called it that and the name’s stuck. It’s a bit of a hoot and we all have a good time. It’s a good way to get to know the locals—a lot of us originally came from elsewhere—and a great chance to unwind at the end of the working week. And with the skills in the group, we put a lot of time into fundraising for the area.’ Jenny stopped beside a small red Ford and the lights flashed as she unlocked the doors. ‘And you could have a chat about houses and rentals too. But you have to be under forty to join the group. That’s the young part.’
Jeremy laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I more than qualify there. I’ll look forward to it.’ He waited until she was in the car and then waved as she pulled out of the car park, before making his way towards the road.
A cane train was chugging slowly along beside the pub and Jeremy waited for it to pass before he crossed the road. The sweet smell of sugar cane blended with a strong peppery fragrance drifting down from a huge tree covered in large, orange flowers. As he waited, a slight breeze picked up and the petals fell to the ground, adding to the rich colourful carpet that covered the lush green grass.
He took a deep breath. Dalrymple was full of vibrant colour everywhere he looked; it gave his senses a kick-start. Here you could take a deep breath and feel fresh clean air fill your lungs. If he had done that outside St Vincent’s he would have inhaled petrol fumes from the cars roaring along Victoria Street, and the lingering smell of overfilled rubbish bins.
Contentment filled him, along with the certainty that he’d made the right decision. After one day in his new workplace, he was less stressed than he had been in a long time, even though he had no family close by and was a long way from all that was familiar. Actually, no family watching and criticising his every professional and personal move was one of the positives of getting away from Sydney.
No one here knew about his past, and he intended to keep it that way. Unless you counted Emma, but she had been long gone before the tragedy.
He lifted his gaze from the petal-covered lawn as the last carriage of the train passed, and then looked over at the building on the corner across the road.
ALAL. Alternative Alchemy. It seemed that her passion for holistic medicine had directed her career path and she was well respected. He should have known better than to assume Emma hadn’t completed her medical degree. He’d always wondered why she’d left Sydney and where she’d finished her studies. He should have tried harder to find her when she’d left Sydney uni.
When he’d come back from the football trip, he’d been concerned to find her flat locked up. She wasn’t in lectures. Jeremy’s increasingly frantic calls went straight to her voicemail. There was no one else to call. He would have asked her best friend, but they were each other’s best friends, each other’s whole worlds: who else would know where she was but him? He racked his brains trying to think of any contacts she had mentioned but he began to realise how little he knew about Emma’s family. On the third day when she didn’t show at uni and still didn’t answer her phone, he’d decided to go to the police. He’d parked his car in the back of the lane at Surry Hills, checking the flat one last time. Walking around the side of the building, relief flooded him when the front door opened.
But it wasn’t Emma. A woman with a clipboard locked the door behind her. Jeremy hurried over.
‘Excuse me.’
The woman turned with a smile. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m looking for Emma Porter. She lives in this flat.’
‘Emma’s moved out.’
‘Moved out?’
‘Yes. I’m the property manager for this block. I’m about to show some new tenants through.’ Disbelief had slammed through him.
‘Where to?’
‘I’m sorry, she didn’t say.’
‘Do you know if she’s okay?’
The woman hesitated and then smiled. He obviously looked trustworthy. ‘Yes, I believe so. All she told me was that she had to go home.’
‘Home?’
She didn’t have a forwarding address. After a few days, anger and disappointment had kicked in. He’d listened to his mother, who suggested that the stress of study and Sydney life had become too much for Emma. She insisted that a girl of her background wasn’t right for him anyway and that it was all for the best. He’d begun to believe that himself; the strength to disagree with his parents and his awareness of their prejudices had come only with maturity.
Jeremy had tried to forget Emma but it had taken a long time before the hurt eased. Before she’d left they’d been inseparable. They’d shared common interests, both academically and in their love of sport. Emma had made him happy. She was always bright, no matter how hard she worked or how tired she was. And she worked hard. She was a good person and got on with everyone. He’d believed that he’d loved her.
Hell, he’d even bought a ring and had the proposal all prepared for the end of the semester. Foolishly, he’d mapped out their whole future in his head. Buy a small place and move in together. Get married when they graduated. The trust fund his grandfather had left would have seen them through university. It would have been enough to see a dozen students through.
He’d buried the hurt by convincing himself that their relationship had been less than he’d dreamed about. He’d been naive to think he knew it was more. He still had the engagement ring he’d bought for her; he kept it to remind himself to be less impulsive. He’d missed her, but he slowly realised there was life without Emma. It was hard but he’d immersed himself in his studies and surprised himself when he’d topped the year.
The pub door squeaked as he pushed it open. The manager waved to him as he crossed to the stairs, and an elderly couple smiled as he passed their table.
Emma had changed.
He’d changed.
He’d made the right move coming up here, and he would make a go of it. They’d both grown up and were mature enough to start afresh as friends. He would do his best to instigate that; it didn’t matter why she’d left.
Chapter 10
Thursday morning
Dalrymple Hospital
George’s dizzy spells worsened, and much to his disgust, Emma kept him in Dalrymple Hospital for the rest of the week.
‘You promised.’ He shot Emma a baleful look as she checked his chart on Thursday morning.
‘We’re just keeping an eye on you for another couple of days,’ she replied.
‘Can’t have you falling over again, can we, mate?’ Jeremy stepped into the ward and Emma nodded.
She hung the chart back on the end of the bed. She’d come in early hoping to avoid running into Jeremy. There’d been no sign of him and he still wasn’t up on the roster. She’d made it through the last two days without seeing him and had managed to put aside her disappointment at not getting the job. She’d been so busy at the clinic there’d been no time to go out to Wilma’s, and although she tried to call a few times there was no answer. Last night had been taken up with the committee meeting finalising organisation for Rainbow Day. Emma had been gratified by the enthusiasm of the club members to take on jobs. She had very little to do this year, apart from giving the official thank you at the end of the day.
‘Doctor Porter.’ He nodded briefly and turned to George. ‘So they tell me you’re on the mend, George? You’ve got a couple of good shiners there.’
Emma held the light to George’s bruised eyes. She was concerned by his slow recovery. His face was pale and he winced every time he tried to move his sprained arm.
‘Yes. I should be home.’ He jutted his unshaven chin out as she stepped away. ‘I’m sick of this bloody place.’
Emma stifled a grin. ‘And you can go home as soon as you can stand up without getting vertigo.’ She kept her voice brisk.
‘Oh la de da. Got the big words out now the other doctor’s here.’ George dropped his head but looked at her from the corner of his eye. Emma resisted pulling a face. She knew he was just cross about not being able to go home and trying to talk her into it.
‘I’ll see you this afternoon.’
‘Can you get me a TV if I have to stay here . . . please?’
‘I’ll organise it on the way out.’ Emma turned towards the door. Jeremy followed her and they stepped into the wide hallway together. He walked beside her as she headed for the stairs.
‘Is there something I can help you with, Doctor?’ She fought down the heat that rose up her neck and reddened her cheeks when they reached the corridor and he put his hand on her shoulder in a friendly gesture.
‘Slow down, Emma. Looks like you’re so busy I need to make an appointment for us to catch up.’
‘Do you think so?’ Her voice was cool.
‘Yes. We were friends once.’ His fingers were warm against her work shirt. ‘And I’d like to be friends again.’
Regret filled Emma immediately at her decidedly unfriendly response. After all, Jeremy hadn’t been the reason she’d left Sydney. Her father’s death had been the catalyst for her sudden departure. But she would never forget his mother’s words that had opened her eyes to the fact that she would never fit into his life. ‘I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I’m a bit tired. And yes, you’re right, I have been busy.’
He took his hand away and they walked to the nurses’ station. ‘So how long have you been in Dalrymple?’
‘Since I graduated from James Cook uni. I’m not surprised it’s so hard to get doctors up in the Far North. They all seem to get to Cairns and stop.’
‘Do you have other staff at your clinic?’
Emma swallowed a chuckle. ‘I have a part-time admin assistant called Lily.’ She shrugged. ‘She’s got a good heart, although her work ethic leaves a bit to be desired. She spends a lot of the day organising her social life.’ A laugh bubbled up as she looked at him. ‘But I get to work in my own place and I’ll get her trained up when I have a spare minute.’