‘I can understand that,’ he said, ‘but be reasonable, pet. Do you think I like this pretence you’ve perpetrated here? Do you think it suited me to come thousands of miles out of my way to find out what was going on? I know I said I’d give you six months to get this outback nonsense out of your system, but I was never happy about it. Come back with me now. Come back home. Apparently you’ve become quite adept at making up stories, so you’ll think of something. Sick family member. Homesickness. Something.’
Anna stared at him, unable to believe what was happening. He was smiling as he spoke of her making up stories—sharing a joke—but underneath his soft tone there was an edge of steel. Almost as if he was ordering her home—as if she were an employee, not a cherished fiancée.
Sheer disbelief made speech impossible, then panic set in as she realised just how entangled her life and that of her family had become with Philip’s.
Fighting the drowning sensation this realisation caused, she sought not for a solution—clear thinking was impossible right now—but for a compromise.
‘I can’t just walk out and leave the hospital without a doctor,’ she said, hoping a calm, quiet voice might impress the seriousness of the situation on him. ‘I could give notice, but it would have to be a month. They wouldn’t find even a locum in less time than that.’
Philip studied her for a moment.
‘Then you’d come?’
For a moment Anna hesitated, weighed down with doubt and regret, then she thought of her parents—of her responsibility to them, and the gratitude she felt for all they’d given her.
They were settled in their home on Philip’s estate…
‘If I can get a replacement, I’ll come,’ she said.
Philip stood up and came towards her, smiling now—the genial, loving Philip she knew—but even as he reached out to take her in his arms there was a knock on the door and Carrie, accompanied by Bob Filmer, practically tumbled into the room.
‘Come on, Phil,’ she said. ‘We’re all starving and your chef fellow says if he has to hold the meal back any longer it will be ruined.’
Phil? Anna glanced at him but he seemed unperturbed by this casual, very Australian shortening of his name. She waited for him to tell them to go ahead without him—surely he’d want to be alone with her—but once again she was surprised. He nodded his agreement, then confirmed it with a cheery, ‘We’re on our way!’ He turned to take Anna’s arm.
But she was already fishing her pager out of her pocket.
‘Sorry, I’ve got to go back to the hospital.’ She waved the pager in the air and kissed Philip on the cheek. ‘Call me in the morning?’
He was angry again but that couldn’t be helped. And he’d be even angrier if he guessed she’d told a lie—another lie! But there was no way she could have walked into that scene of jollity and pretended to enjoy herself, not with tension twisting her stomach into knots and uneasiness over Philip’s behaviour burning along her nerves.
She might agree to his request that she return home, but nothing he could do or say would persuade her to attend his party.
Not that he argued.
In fact, he gave in quite gracefully—for Philip.
‘Poor you!’ he murmured, kissing her cheek once again. But his fingers tightened on her upper arm as if reminding her of her promise—or of her place in his life.
Something between an employee and a possession, she thought with sudden clarity. She should ask him if that’s how he saw her, but Carrie was urging him away and it was Bob, admittedly at Philip’s suggestion, who walked Anna to her car.
As she pulled up outside the hospital—so there hadn’t been a page but at least she had told the truth when she’d said she was coming here—she looked at the dark patch of trees she knew shadowed Tom’s house and smiled wryly to herself.
He on his own over there, she on her own here—practically the only people she knew in town who weren’t enjoying Philip’s hospitality.
CHAPTER NINE
PHILIP arrived at six the next morning, radiating love and goodwill.
‘I phoned the hospital and the nurse on duty told me you’d got away by eleven so I knew I wouldn’t be waking you after only a couple of hours’ sleep.’
Anna, pyjama-clad and bleary-eyed, nodded at this information. She was standing in the doorway of her little house while Philip stood on the doorstep, the local taxi waiting, doors open, on the drive behind him.
‘I brought breakfast,’ he added, and smiled at her. ‘Now, will you invite me in?’
‘Invite you in?’ Anna pushed her fingers through her straggly hair. She might have left the hospital at eleven, but having two fiancés hadn’t promoted sound sleep. ‘Of course.’
She stepped backwards, but Philip didn’t follow, turning instead back towards the taxi.
There was a rumble of conversation, then doors slammed, an engine started up and Philip returned with a huge picnic basket.
‘Carl tells me most things we like are unavailable in your outback town. He got the supermarket manager out of bed last night when I mentioned the picnic, but still couldn’t do much.’
Anna watched in bemusement as Philip placed the basket on her dining table and began unloading packages, unwrapping things to reveal an array of tempting goodies.
‘Blueberry muffins, mini smoked salmon quiches—he had a supply of smoked salmon with him—bacon-wrapped sausages, oven-baked tomatoes…’
A sense of unreality settled over Anna as Philip continued to display the goodies his chef had produced for their breakfast.
Was Philip always like this? Yes, food was important to him, and he took great delight in being able to provide delicacies for his friends and important guests.
But it was strange behaviour at six in the morning, visiting a fiancée he hadn’t seen—apart from a brief interlude last night—for over a month.
Did he regret the way he’d spoken to her last night? All but ordering her to return home? Was this his way of apologising?
Anna realised she had no idea of the answers to her unspoken questions, and that realisation brought another question in its train.
How well did she know Philip?
‘I’ll have a quick shower and join you in a few minutes,’ she told him, anxious to get away while she considered an answer.
Anxious to test him as well?
She wasn’t sure if, subconsciously, she’d been doing that, but if she had, it didn’t work. He didn’t try to stop her. Didn’t suggest he wash her back. Didn’t make any move to hold or kiss or caress her…
New, unanswerable questions writhed uncomfortably in Anna’s head as she showered then pulled on a skirt and top, dressing for work, not Philip.
The aroma of newly brewed coffee hit her as she left the bathroom, and she smiled at the man who was carefully pushing down the plunger of a small coffee-maker.
‘Making your own coffee, Philip?’ she teased, feeling at ease with him for the first time since his arrival.
He looked up and smiled.
‘I’ve always told you I’m more domesticated than you realise. I can make a pot of tea as well. Dulcie taught me that!’
‘How is Dulcie?’ Anna asked, smiling herself as she thought of the kindly housekeeper who’d been Philip’s nurse when he’d been a child.
‘She’s great. She sends her love.’ He brought the coffeepot across to the table, then corrected himself. ‘Or she would have done if she’d known I was coming here.’
He held a chair for Anna and as she sat down, he bent and kissed her on the back of her neck. It was a caress, but that of a friend rather than a lover, and with a sense of sadness more than jealousy she wondered if he had a mistress travelling with him at the moment.
‘Now eat,’ he ordered, waving his hand across the spread. ‘Did I tell you about the South American deal? I phoned you from there, didn’t I? Well…’
He talked, his hands waving as he described places he’d seen, plants he would build, factories
he hoped to buy. This was the Philip she knew, burning with enthusiasm for his latest project, wanting to share the challenges he so enjoyed with her.
He’d explained the way his mind worked to her once, years ago. Apparently, it was faster than most people’s so he grasped concepts more quickly and could turn them into something concrete and so expand his empire. He’d explained also about the women he knew around the world—women he knew intimately but who meant nothing to him. No, he’d chosen Anna quite early—well before she had been aware he had had any interest in her. In fact, it hadn’t been long after she’d won his firm’s scholarship to university, and he’d presented her with the first of the cheques which would finance her studies, that he’d decided she would, one day, make an ideal wife.
She remembered him telling her this as he talked, and realised why she’d been included in the clipping service’s list way back then. If she’d been arrested at a protest, or for any other reason, would he have turned his attention to another candidate for the elevated position of his wife?
‘I don’t know about leaving in a month, Philip,’ she said, as all these things collided in her head just as he paused to try one of the mini-quiches. ‘This is something I’ve wanted for so long, and I’ve barely found my feet here yet. To leave so soon…’
She let the sentence die, but watched for his reaction. A slight frown, quickly smoothed away.
‘We won’t spoil breakfast by talking about it now.’ He smiled reassuringly, but Anna was far from reassured. While not exactly spoilt, Philip was used to getting his own way. Money made it easy, in both business and in his private life. After all, how many people would refuse to sell a polo pony, for instance, when the offer made was for twice or even three times its value?
‘Did I tell you about the serviced apartment I looked at in Paris? I thought it would be ideal place for our honeymoon. It’s close to the office, and…’
Anna surveyed the array of food and chose a tiny croissant, still warm. Had Carl had been up all night, preparing then cooking this treat? She broke it in half and buttered it, then ate it, sipping at her coffee, listening to Philip yet aware of other voices in her head.
Voices asking questions about her relationship with this man. Voices wondering how well she knew him. If she knew him at all.
The sudden jangling summons of the phone startled her, but she reached out automatically, lifting the receiver, giving her name.
‘It’s Jillian, Anna. We’ve just had a phone call from Jenny White. Her eighteen-month-old is convulsing.’
‘Temperature?’ Anna asked.
‘She didn’t know but said he felt hot. I told her to strip him off and use damp cloths to cool him down on the way in. The Whites are on a property about thirty kilometres out of town, so she’ll be here in twenty minutes or so.’
‘I’ll be there,’ Anna promised, checking her watch as she hung up.
She turned to Philip.
‘That was an emergency call. I’ve got twenty minutes before the patient arrives. When do you have to leave?’
He gave her a funny little smile.
‘Straight after breakfast. I’ve a meeting in Japan tomorrow morning and some people I have to see first. This wasn’t a good idea, was it?’
Anna lifted her shoulders in an uneasy shrug.
‘It could have been better,’ she agreed, as guilt that things had gone so wrong gnawed away at her. ‘Most times I could have arranged for the local doctor to cover my calls—even taken a day off—but Peter’s away on a course this week. I’m sorry, Philip.’
He reached out and took her hand.
‘No, my dear, I’m sorry. I should have trusted you—asked you about the photo over the phone—not come haring over here like some jealous maniac.’
He shrugged now, then added, ‘After all, you know I have my occasional diversions, so I could hardly complain if you did likewise.’
The remark was so startling—and so unlike the Philip she thought she knew—Anna found herself gaping at him.
‘You mean you wouldn’t mind if I had an affair with someone else? Is that what you’re saying? What about fidelity? About love? In fact, now you’ve brought it up, knowing about your diversions, as you call them, is one thing, but between accepting them and being happy about them there’s a gap as wide as the Indian Ocean. I haven’t made a fuss before because I assumed it would all stop once we were married, and until then, as I wasn’t free to travel with you, I’d just have to ignore them.’
She glared at him across the table, but couldn’t have put enough effort into it as he smiled and said, ‘You’re beautiful when you’re angry.’
The remark made her even angrier, but it also made her wonder if he’d heard a word she’d said—if he ever listened to her.
‘You’ve got to go soon,’ he reminded her. ‘And you haven’t eaten enough to keep a mouse alive, so stop being angry—it gives you indigestion, eating when you’re cross—and have a muffin or, look, there are friands as well. I told Carl how much you loved them.’
Anna looked at the plate he proffered and knew she’d choke on even the smallest bite of the tasty little almond cake. She shook her head, finished her coffee, then stood up.
‘I’ll talk to you soon,’ she said, bending down to kiss Philip’s cheek, then moving away before he could grasp her arm and foil her escape.
But as she crossed to the hospital, the hopelessness of her situation all but swamped her. Her life was so tangled up in Philip’s, there was no way she could back out of the engagement now. She thought of Tom—of the way he’d held her last night—of the kiss—of the way he’d said goodbye.
Anna frowned at the memory.
Why goodbye?
She wasn’t going anywhere…
Not yet.
CHAPTER TEN
WILLIAM WHITE was definitely feverish, though not convulsing when he reached the hospital.
‘It frightened me to see him like that,’ Jenny said, settling the infant onto the mattress of a cot prepared to receive him. ‘Does it mean he’s epileptic?’
‘Probably not,’ Anna assured her, turning as a rangy-looking man came into the room.
‘I’m Bill White, William’s dad,’ he said, holding out his hand to Anna. ‘Had to park the car.’
Anna nodded, then continued her examination of the now sleepy child.
‘Febrile convulsions, caused by a high temperature, are not uncommon in infants and small children. I’d say that’s all it was.’
She turned William’s head and felt the heat in the auricle, the outer shell of his left ear.
‘I’ll have a look, but the redness suggests an ear infection. They can flare up suddenly and cause high temperatures.’
Both parents looked relieved to think it might be something so simple.
‘I kept thinking meningitis,’ Jenny said. ‘My mother had a sister who died of meningitis when she was a baby. I was terrified.’
Anna understood, and when examination of little William’s ear showed a prurient infection, she was able to confirm her diagnosis and assure the couple it would soon clear up with antibiotics.
‘But I’d like to keep him here until his temperature stabilises,’ she said, getting Jenny to hold the toddler while she injected penicillin into his arm. ‘Would one of you be able to stay?’
‘We’ll both stay,’ Bill said firmly, lifting the distressed little boy into his arms and rocking him back and forth. ‘I don’t want Jenny here worrying on her own.’
Anna beamed at them.
‘I’m so glad to hear that,’ she said, ‘because there’s this wonderful room in the hospital which I haven’t been able to use yet. It has a double bed and, though I mightn’t have to keep William overnight, you can both rest on it during the day.’
‘A double bed?’ Both the Whites looked stunned, but it was Jenny who questioned the statement.
Anna laughed.
‘I know—that’s exactly my reaction when I first arrived and saw this wo
nderful room, complete with double bed. But when I asked about it, and one of the nurses explained it was for couples who had an infant who needed hospitalisation, or maybe for a couple where one partner was undergoing treatment and the other wanted to be with him or her, I realised what a wonderful idea it was. Now I’ve a chance to admit someone into the room. My guess is the nurses on duty have already put a cot in there. They’ll be expecting you to stay.’
The nurse who’d been assisting her nodded.
‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘We’re the only hospital in the whole district that has the double room, and we’re very proud of it. Come on, I’ll take you there.’
She led the Whites away, leaving Anna free. She should pop back to her house and see if Philip was still there, but she was so confused over the things that had happened in the last twenty-four hours she didn’t think she could handle any more revelations.
Or confusion!
She did a round instead, checking on all her patients, smiling as she passed the double room and saw Bill bouncing experimentally on the double bed.
‘It’s your pretty face keeping me alive,’ Mr Jenks told her when she arrived by his bedside.
‘And here I thought it was my good doctoring,’ she joked, but she knew the man was failing, the poisons his kidneys no longer removed from his body slowly affecting his whole system. ‘You’re not using the oxygen?’
He was sitting up and breathing with difficulty.
‘I use it when I have to,’ he told her. ‘But having those tubes up me nose—makes me wonder what my old horse must have felt, with a metal bit shoved into his mouth all the time. Makes me real sorry for the old fellow, it does.’
Anna smiled at the analogy, but it made her wonder how a man who’d once taken mobs of cattle across thousands of miles of desert, felt when he was virtually tethered to a bed.
‘Most of the old-timers who’ve lived rough out here in the bush accept death more easily than townsfolk,’ Jess told her a little later, when they met in the kitchen for a quick coffee-break. ‘I think because they lost mates in places where there was no help. And no one to sanitise death—no funeral director to whisk the remains away. All they could do was dig a grave and bury the body—mark it with a cross they’d make from stones or branches. No one has any idea how many unmarked graves are scattered across the outback.’
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