‘But he’s going to be in a sling for a while?’
‘That’s right. How did you know?’
‘One of my other mum’s boyfriends pushed me down the stairs. I dislocated my shoulder and broke my arm. It hurt a lot and I was in a sling for ages.’
Oh god. Heart crushed, she glanced in the rear vision mirror at Carter. He was looking out the window, seemingly unfazed. ‘Well, he didn’t break anything, so it shouldn’t be as bad as yours was,’ she said, trying to keep from stopping the car and pulling him into her arms and kissing him and holding him and telling him over and over that he was safe, would always be safe, that she would never let anyone hurt him like that again. But she didn’t. The psychologists had told her that the best thing she could do was not overprotect or smother him, but just let him tell her what he wanted to, be open to discussing it and otherwise treat him as normally as possible. And plenty of love and affection and good food and schooling and routine and times spent with friends. His psychologist said the fact he had started calling her Mum last year proved that it was working. She just had to hope it was true, because she had nothing else. She’d been completely unprepared to become a mother, but she couldn’t have turned Carter away. One look and she’d known he was supposed to be with her. Chandra and her family had said she was being rash again, but she didn’t care. It felt right. It was right.
‘He’s going to be bummed he won’t be able to climb or ride for a while.’
‘Perhaps we could arrange for a few sleepovers with him and Tilly and maybe do a few other things so he doesn’t feel like he’s missing out. What do you think?’
‘Yeah, Mum. That’d be great. Maybe we could go to the movies. And go on a picnic down near the creek at our favourite spot. Aaron could do that, couldn’t he? If he didn’t ride.’
‘Absolutely. There’s an access road down there, so we could drive and then walk the rest of the way. I think that’s a great idea.’
‘Could he swim in the creek with us? He loves to swim in the creek.’
‘He could paddle if he’s careful.’
‘Could we do it next week?’
‘Sure. I’ll call and arrange it. Maybe we can think of a few more things to do as well to stop him from getting bored. There’s Sally with our order.’ Sally Lion was standing out the front door of Wilson’s Bend Fish and Chippery holding a paper wrapped package, keys in hand, the lights of the shop behind her turned off. ‘Thank you so much for this,’ Prita said as she hopped out of the car to collect their dinner and gave Sally the money. ‘It’s made our night.’
‘My pleasure. Anything for our favourite doc. Ned might not be with us if not for you.’
‘That’s a bit of an overstatement. I just made him go in for that scan.’
‘Because you heard the murmur in his heart when Doc Simpson insisted the breathlessness was because Ned needed to lose a few pounds.’
Prita shrugged. ‘I was just lucky enough to do a rotation under one of the best heart surgeons in Melbourne, so knew what I heard wasn’t simply that.’
Sally shook her head. ‘As I said, we’re lucky to have you. Why you’re here when you could be anywhere you wanted is a mystery to me, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. So, whatever the reason, even if you call at midnight for fish and chips, I’d get up and turn the cookers on.’
‘I’d never get you up at midnight,’ she said, flashing a smile. ‘Maybe eleven-thirty.’
Sally snorted and gripped her hand. ‘I’m just happy I could help you have your birthday celebration with your little man.’ She leaned past Prita and waved to the little boy in the back seat of the car. ‘Hey, Carter!’
‘Hey, Mrs Lion.’
Sally smiled and leaned close to Prita. ‘Steph wanted to stay up to say hi but it was past her bedtime. She was so disappointed. She loves him being her mentor at school. I think she’s developed a little crush.’
Prita couldn’t help but smile. It was such a normal thing and normal had been missing from Carter’s life for so long. ‘It’s such a lovely thing having the year fours mentor the preps. I know Carter feels quite the sense of responsibility in his duties, and I know he thinks Steph is so cute.’ And she was. Such a little moppet of a kid with curly brown hair and big doe eyes. ‘I don’t think Carter minds the crush at all.’
‘Great.’ She leaned back again and waved at Carter. ‘Treat your mum nice for her birthday, Carter.’
‘I will. Show her the bracelet, Mum.’
Prita held up her arm to show off the charm bracelet Nat and Barb had helped Carter buy for her. It had a horse, a cat, a book, a heart and a bag on it that looked like her doctor’s bag.
‘That’s gorgeous,’ Sally said. ‘Your mum’s a lucky girl.’
Carter grinned ear to ear.
Prita gestured at the fish and chips. ‘Thanks. I owe you one.’
‘You owe me nothing. This shire needs you. You’re the best doctor we’ve ever had.’
Despite knowing that wasn’t a sentiment held by certain loud people in the area, Prita was simply glad some people felt that way. ‘You have a great night.’ She waved and hopped back in the car and then headed back down the other end of Wilson’s Bend to their home.
Carter made it through one movie—only just—his head falling onto her shoulder as the credits rolled, eyes closing, falling asleep so fast in that way kids could. Prita turned the TV off and picked him up. He was still so small and slight, despite the good food and exercise he got now, and carried him to bed.
It wasn’t until he was tucked in, his night light turned on and she was getting ready for bed that she remembered the mess of the bird that was on the reception desk. She’d run out of the office straight after Flynn and Aaron had left to go pick up Carter and hadn’t given it a thought.
‘Damn it!’ Tomorrow was Saturday, which meant that the clinic didn’t start until 10am, so she had time to get downstairs and clean it up before Cherry got in and saw it. But then, it would be one hundred times harder to clean up—all that blood and muck would have stuck to the desk by then. She really had to do it now. ‘Happy Birthday to me.’
Tiredness sank into her bones as she headed back downstairs to the private, family area that took up the right-hand side of the lower floor of the two-storey Federation style house, through the kitchen and into the laundry where she put some water in a bucket and got some bags and cleaning cloths. Then she walked through the living room, unlocked the door into the main hallway that split the lower section in half and had doors leading into the reception-patient waiting area, the doctor’s office, treatment room, toilet and storage room. There was another room across the other side of the hall that you could enter from the hallway too. It was technically part of the family side of the house but she wasn’t using for anything other than storing boxes she hadn’t gone through yet and had plans to use it as another room for a doctor other than her if the practice ever grew bigger. It was quite large so could be divided into two consulting rooms.
She could dream.
The staircase up to the tower room was on that side as well. She’d fallen in love with this house because of the tower, but she still didn’t know what to do with it. Maybe when Carter got older, it could be an extra space for him to call his own. She smiled at the idea of him as a young man, setting up his own man cave.
Her smile died as she opened the door to the waiting room, a horrible smell greeting her. The night was warm and she never bothered running the air conditioning in this side of the house overnight, so the dead bird had quickly gone to that place that made your nose hairs curl. She’d seen her share of dead bodies in her years of working in war torn and disaster areas overseas, but she’d never got used to the sweet smell of rotting flesh. Wishing she’d put some Vicks up her nose to help cut out the smell, she donned the gloves and got to work. The blood and guts had already started to dry and stick to the desk, so she was extra glad she hadn’t left it until the morning. She was a little surprised the mes
s was so centralised—normally when Machiavelli left his little presents, he made more of a mess bringing them in, but thank goodness he’d been so tidy this time.
She made quick work of cleaning it up, disinfecting the area thoroughly before heading outside to get rid of the garbage bag and messy water.
The night was still, the air holding heat from the day, but thankfully not too humid. She took a deep breath, enjoying the scents of eucalypt and wattle with a slight hint of something else she’d not put her finger on the entire year and a half she’d been living here. Whatever it was, it always rejuvenated her, and despite the tired-ache in her bones, she stood there for a moment, just enjoying the beautiful night.
Something rustled in the bush to her left, startling her until she realised it was probably Machiavelli, slinking around, waiting to see how his gift had been received. She’d have to buy him a collar with a bell on it to try to warn the birds so he couldn’t catch them. Too many native creatures got killed by cats, and despite that this was the first time Machiavelli had left anything other than a mouse or rat for her, she didn’t want him to be part of that problem. She’d have to remember to ask the local vet how to dissuade him from doing it again. She didn’t want to dissuade him from catching rats and mice, but she didn’t want him killing the birds. She should probably start by locking him in at night.
‘Hey, Maccy. Come on, puss. You’re not in trouble. You can come in now.’
Nothing. No strange meeping-miaow, or slinky shadow running towards her to wind around her legs and seek attention as usually happened when she walked outside and he was there. Maybe it was a possum.
She shrugged and emptied the bucket down the outside drain, rinsing it numerous times and running the water to make sure everything was well and truly off and away down the drain. There was more rustling in the bushes to her left again. A crawling sensation made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, as if she was being watched. She peered into the dark beyond the circle of light on the back porch, but despite the clear night sky above and the brightness of the moon, that area was too deep in shadow to see much of anything. ‘Hello? Is anyone there?’
Nothing answered and the rustling stopped. It probably was a possum or maybe even a koala. There were a few who inhabited the trees around the area. She turned back to grab the bucket and screamed as something came hurtling across the back patio towards her from the right.
Heart thumping in her chest, hand over her mouth to stifle the sound she’d just made, she looked down at the cat who was now winding around her legs. ‘Maccy! You gave me such a fright.’ She picked him up and held him to her, rubbing her cheek against his soft head to calm herself as much as to pet him. ‘You’re supposed to stalk rats and mice, not me!’ God, her heart was still racing. She was glad nobody had been around to witness her stupid city-girl-paranoia, jumping at her own cat and strange rustling sounds in the night. She would never hear the end of it.
She rubbed her chin against Maccy’s head once more then said, ‘Come on. Time to put ourselves to bed.’ She grabbed the bucket and let herself back inside, putting Machiavelli down only when she’d locked the back door. He followed her, miaowing, winding around her legs as she made sure the door was locked, his miaows becoming more and more plaintive. ‘How could you be hungry? You had a nice snack on bird only a few hours ago—which, may I tell you, despite what you think, is a lousy birthday present. Also, if you leave another present anywhere Cherry might find it, she’ll be wearing a ginger, white and tabby cat muff come winter.’ He looked up at her, liquid eyes pleading, the miaows more and more pathetic. ‘Oh, for goodness sakes, okay, I’ll give you something to eat. But this is the last time you have late night snacks from me.’ She wagged her finger at him. He didn’t take any notice of her chiding, simply followed her into the kitchen, winding impatiently around his bowl on the floor beside the kitchen bench. ‘You’re going to get fat if you keep eating so much.’ She rattled some dry food into his bowl, made sure he had water and his kitty litter was clean and then, leaving him to gorge himself, headed upstairs.
Despite her tiredness, she went through her nightly routine of brushing her thick hair until it shone and moisturising her body with the lavender moisturiser her mum had used and that always smelled like love and home. Even though bed was calling, she checked all the upstairs windows were locked and then couldn’t help looking in on Carter once more. He was sleeping soundly, his little body curled into a foetal position, one arm held across his head protectively. It made her heart lurch to think of all the reasons why the little boy felt the need to protect his head even in sleep.
She knew from experience to leave him be though—if she tried to move him when he was like that, he came out of sleep fighting. She blew him a kiss and whispered, ‘Love you to the end of the universe and back, beautiful boy. Sleep dreamlessly.’ She truly hoped he did, not just because his nightmares caused many sleepless nights for her, but because she wanted to know he was finally healing. That he did feel safe. And loved.
Her bed looked so inviting as she walked back into her room, the vibrant colours of her pillows muted by the golden glow of her bedside light. She glanced at the pile of medical journals on her bedside table. She really should finish that article she’d begun last night on the newest migraine medications and alternative treatments—a few of her peri-menopausal patients were suffering badly and neither were responding to the beta blockers she’d put them on—but her mind was so foggy, she knew she wouldn’t take any of it in. Even the new paranormal romance by her favourite author that sat next to the pile didn’t call to her.
She shoved the decorative pillows to the other side of her queen-sized bed—enjoying the fact she didn’t have to worry about anyone chiding her for her careless messiness—slipped under the doona and was asleep nearly as soon as her head hit her pillow.
She was torn out of sleep by screams.
Carter.
Heart a painful beat in her head, her throat, she struggled to get out of bed, legs tangled in the sheets, falling with a thud on the floor, knee whacking painfully against the bed end as she scrambled upright, desperate to get to the little boy whose nightmares were ripped from him with a sound that made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. A sound full of such anguish and pain, terror and hopelessness.
His bed was empty. Not unusual when he had a night terror. Thank god he wasn’t at the window trying to hide behind the curtains, or worse, trying to get out—she’d never forget the night she’d found him hanging halfway out the window after she’d left it open to let some cooler air into his hot room in the cramped flat they’d been put in when they’d got here. It was the reason she’d had air conditioning put into the house so she could lock the windows. The noise wasn’t coming from the wardrobe, which left only one other place he could hide. She immediately dropped to the floor, peering under the bed.
He was there, curled into a ball, hands shielding his head as he screamed something she knew were words but were so scrambled by fear and remembered pain that they were really just sounds.
Fury burned through her at what had brought her precious boy to this state, the memories of cruelties that plagued his sleep. She knew she couldn’t touch him though as that could make his terror worse until he’d woken up sufficiently to realise where he was. There was only one thing that seemed to help him when he was like this—sing.
The psychologist said it was amazing how she could keep her voice so steady and pure as she sang the songs that helped reach Carter when he was like this, but it wasn’t amazing at all. Before her mum died, when they were touring with Diarmuid, he’d often pull her up on stage with him and they’d do a song together. The crowd screaming and cheering had always made her feel so energised, like she was floating up, up, up to the sky and would never come down and yet everything was enhanced with piercing clarity that she only got when her adrenaline ran high and it was a clarity that meant she never lost her way in the song, never got nervous, never ever forgot
a single moment of those times with her papa.
That ability to use her adrenaline and gain clarity from it had come in handy for her work as a doctor in some of the worst places in the world. It also served her well now.
She tuned out the terrified, pained animal noises Carter was making, lay down on the floor, staring at his hands splayed protectively over his head, and started to sing.
Disney songs. They were the ones that calmed him best. Especially those from The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast. They’d been two of the first movies she’d watched with him, so maybe that was why they worked, but it didn’t matter why, all that mattered was that they did, so she sang them. During the first song, his hands shifted a little, still wrapped around his head, but not quite so tense. By the end of the second song, his body shifted, uncurling a little more, his hands moving down to cover his face. Reaching out towards him, still not touching him, she placed her hand where he could grab onto it when he was ready and then moved onto the next song. His breathing settled and his hands slipped away from his face and by the time she started ‘Beauty and the Beast’, he reached out and clasped her hand. But he was still not looking at her, so she moved onto some songs he loved from the live action version. He lifted his head, eyes still closed, breathing settled and she started another song.
By the time she finished, his eyes were open, gaze fixed on her, lips moving, mouthing the words. When she finished, his lips quirked up into an almost smile and then he said, ‘More.’
‘What would you like to hear?’ she asked softly.
‘‘Under the Sea’. With the accent.’
Blazing Fear Page 8