Caitlin heard the words but while her mind absorbed them as casual conversation, it was too busy puzzling over her body’s reaction to the man’s presence on a neighbouring stool to take much interest. Genuine physical symptoms like an unsteadiness behind her ribs—atrial fibrillation?—and a peculiar hesitancy in her breathing. Could she become an asthmatic at twenty-seven?
‘Not hungry after all?’ he asked.
She glanced towards him and caught amusement in his eyes. A teasing gleam that stopped her lungs completely and sent her heart into tachycardia.
‘I—Yes…’ She struggled to find the words she needed, to string one or two together to form some sensible reply.
Impossible with him so close!
Well, that was fixable. She pushed her plate across the bench, then stood up and shifted her stool to the other side.
‘Easier to talk if we can see each other,’ she said, although the excuse sounded incredibly feeble in her own ears, and she wasn’t certain she was up to talking just yet.
Connor watched as she picked up her knife and fork and tackled her breakfast with a determined frown. She was just as lovely in the bright light of morning, possibly more so as her slightly tousled hair provoked unwanted images of her in bed, and the pink flush on her cheeks aroused libidinous and very censurable thoughts.
Was there a special man in her life? Surely so. Another scientist perhaps, as she’d said she’d never had to choose between a person and her career path.
‘I’d like to start with one family and work from them,’ she said, glancing up at him with her drown-in brown eyes. ‘Do you know if one has more connections in the town than the others?’
He hesitated, then silently admitted that, much as he wished she hadn’t come, he also didn’t want her leaving until he’d had a chance to get to know her a little better—to see if the person inside would match the glorious outer shell. Ignoring all his reservations, he opted for cooperation.
‘Aaron Wilson’s mother is a Russell, so if you’re looking at family links you won’t do better than starting with the Russells,’ he suggested. ‘They run the bakery in town and old Granny Russell is considered the main trunk of the local grapevine.’
‘Will she talk to me? Co-operate? I wouldn’t like to get offside with anyone at this early stage.’
Caitlin’s eyes held his, her commitment plain to read, but something else in the lustrous darkness puzzled him. A plea, perhaps.
For his support?
Well, he was giving that.
His blessing?
No, he couldn’t go that far. His desire to know her better hadn’t entirely blotted out the nameless anxiety the fax had caused.
‘I’m sure Granny will talk to you. She knows the history of the town, and in these parts predates the telephone, radio and television for the dissemination of news. She’s usually more accurate as well.’
‘Then I’ll start with her,’ Caitlin agreed, smiling cheerfully as she turned back to her breakfast. ‘Were you serious about sitting in on consultations? Will I have to make a time to see her that suits you as well?’
She glanced up again, challenging him this time.
‘Talking to Granny will help you with background information,’ he conceded. ‘I guess you can do that on your own.’
‘Just keep clear of your patients?’ she teased, and Connor’s anxiety curdled into fear again.
He pushed aside his breakfast, trying to confront this bogey—to analyse it, pin it down. He wasn’t a man prey to presentiments or fancies, so why this nagging sense of dread?
The clear, slightly sun-brushed skin of her forehead wrinkled into a frown and he sighed, shook his head and finally replied.
‘All the townsfolk are my patients. But as far as your work is concerned, I’ll ask the parents if they’re willing to talk to you. It will be up to them to decide what they want to do, and also for them to decide if they’d like me to be present.’
Caitlin was glad she’d shifted. His pompous-doctor tone of voice made her want to belt him one! And to think her body had been attracted to him!
‘Don’t make it sound as if they’ll be facing the guillotine,’ she snapped, using words instead of her fist. ‘I’m looking for genetic links, not prying into their personal affairs. Genealogy is an increasingly popular hobby these days. For all you know, someone in town may already be working on a family tree that will help me trace the bloodlines of the children involved. It’s no big deal, Connor, so why the drama?’
He seemed startled by her anger, as if her words had woken him from some private reverie, for he frowned and studied her face, his eyes both sombre and watchful.
‘No drama!’ he said lightly, lifting broad shoulders in a seemingly casual shrug. About as casual as microsurgery, judging by the tightness of the tendons in his neck, the stiffness in his muscles only partially concealed by another pale blue shirt. ‘I’ll get my receptionist to drop by to introduce you to Granny. She’s in hospital at the moment, and bored to death, so will welcome a visit. My receptionist’s name is Melissa and she’s a local, so anything else you want to know about the town, ask her.’
He’s distancing himself from the project, Caitlin guessed, but this was hardly the moment to confront him with it. No, he’d made his opposition plain from the beginning and, no matter how attractive her body found him, it was better this way.
She stood up.
‘Thanks for that, and for breakfast.’ She nodded to her pile of possessions just inside the front door. ‘Now I’d better get on with unpacking.’
Would he take the hint and go? Given his reluctance to be involved, she’d thought he would, but, no, the contrary man seemed stuck on the stool, although he swung around to watch her progress.
‘Can I lift something for you? Computer? Or are you working on a laptop?’
‘I’ve both,’ she replied with a bluntness just short of rudeness. Why didn’t he go? Why was he remaining with such rock-like persistence, taking up space in the small house, breathing her air and making her skin feel prickly? ‘And I can carry a PC. In fact, it’s all set up and ready to go.’
He glanced around the room and raised an eyebrow.
‘There’s a table in the bedroom, I’m using that.’
‘I could shift the table out here for you if that would be more convenient,’ he offered.
He obviously had no intention of leaving!
‘Thanks, but I like it where it is. I’m used to working that way.’ She heard the defensiveness in her voice, guessed at his reaction, but before she could think of some diversionary tactic he’d pounced.
‘Ideal bedroom companion, a computer. Obedient, quiet, undemanding.’
His eyes were smiling at her. Lips too, but she was trying not to think about his lips. She responded, relaxing slightly but retaining a wariness in case this mood change was a trap.
‘And never answers back,’ she added. ‘Actually, I do a lot of my theoretical work at home, often at night. It’s convenient to be able to fall straight from the chair into bed.’
Caitlin felt warmth tingling in her cheeks and was sorry she’d mentioned beds. Not that he seemed to notice. He was staring at her and shaking his head as if totally bemused.
‘And that’s your life? Work until you drop, fall into bed then get up and work again?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ she retorted, although the bleak sentence just about summed up her life of late. ‘It’s not like that all the time.’
Connor’s smile broadened. ‘Methinks the lady, et cetera,’ he said, then he glanced at his watch, eased himself off the stool and began to gather up the dirty plates.
‘I’ll do that,’ she said quickly, wanting him out of the place as soon as possible. His mood swings were easier to handle than his smiles.
‘OK, then I’ll be off to work. Mike’s extension is four, mine is seven, if you want to talk to either of us. Melissa gets in at about nine. I do an outpatients clinic at the hospital this morning so she’
ll be free. I’ll ask her to come over as soon as she’s dealt with the mail.’
He walked past her and was out the door so swiftly she was left staring blankly after him.
Melissa arrived at ten, a buxom brunette with a bright smile and a warm welcoming manner.
‘Connor said you’re here to do research,’ she said, after introducing herself and dropping a bright pink plastic folder on the breakfast bar. ‘About the leukaemia. I was working for Dr Robinson when the other people came. Boy, was there trouble in the town!’
Her eyes shone with remembered excitement.
‘It didn’t bother you?’ Caitlin asked, contrasting this reaction to Connor’s grim warnings.
‘Nah! It brought the place to life for a while! Gave everyone something to talk about. Probably got a lot of old grievances sorted out—personal tiffs that people could settle, pretending it was to do with the scientific stuff. Everything was jumping but no one got hurt. Even the shots were fired after most people were in bed and it was probably kids who’d had a few drinks.’
Caitlin smiled at her enthusiasm, then shook her head.
‘I’m afraid I’m not here to stir up that kind of excitement,’ she said. ‘I’m looking into family histories, but what you’ve told me might make things easier. Do many people feel the way you do about ‘‘the war’’ as Connor called it? See it more as a ‘‘letting off steam’’ occasion than an actual rift between different members of the community?’
Melissa’s smile faded and she frowned for a moment, then brightened up, her thoughts almost readable on her expressive features.
‘I think most folk saw it my way. Bit of a lark, really.’ She hesitated, the frown once again knitting her brows. ‘Except for Dr Robinson disappearing like that. We all stopped laughing then. The whole town was involved in the search, one way or another, and that ended all the silly squabbling and name-calling. We’ve always been a town that pulls together when there’s trouble and the doctor disappearing so unexpectedly—well, it brought us all together again.’
Connor had told it differently but, then Connor wasn’t a local. Neither was he a gossip—well, he clammed up whenever his predecessor was mentioned. Making Caitlin more curious rather than less.
‘Did you know you had to search for her?’ she asked Melissa. ‘Was there some reason why you knew she was lost—that she hadn’t just got into her car and left town of her own accord?’
‘It was the car,’ Melissa explained. ‘Mr Neil found it parked out in the State Forest not far from his place. It wasn’t locked and she’d left the keys and a bottle of mineral water in it as if she wasn’t going to be away long. Mr Neil drove in and told the sergeant.’
She shivered theatrically, prompting Caitlin to ask, ‘Is it a scary place, the State Forest?’
Melissa chuckled. ‘Not the place, the man—Ezra Neil.’ She gave another shudder. ‘My Mum says Ezra’s an Old Testament name, and that’s exactly what he looks like—a biblical prophet who preached about hell and damnation, and all that eye-for-an-eye stuff. I mean, fancy naming your son Jonah, when everyone knows a Jonah is someone who brings bad luck. Poor kid, he never had a chance. He’s the one who died, you know. Of leukaemia.’
‘Not because of his name,’ Caitlin pointed out quietly, the mention of the child’s death reminding her she was here to work, not gossip. And why the work was so important, whatever the townspeople might think of her intrusion into their lives. A sense of urgency swept over her.
She picked up the file Melissa had prepared and opened it. Melissa stepped closer.
‘I haven’t put in the patient files because Connor said to get permission from the families before giving you them, but I’ll phone them all this morning and drop the files in later.’
She pointed to a list on the first page.
‘When Connor told me you wanted to know about relationships, I jotted down some notes. I know Granny Russell is related to Anne Jackson, although I’m not sure how, and the Cummingses are an old farming family so they could be linked up somewhere. Annabel Laurence’s dad is the mine manager, but her mother was a Snape and they’ve been here since the gold-rush days when a Snape ran a saloon on the goldfields. Mrs Laurence doesn’t like people talking about that because she’s a bit grand now she’s married.’
Caitlin smiled.
‘Thanks, Melissa,’ she said. ‘These notes are exactly what I need to get me started. Connor said Granny—should I call her that or Mrs Russell?—was in hospital at the moment and I could see her there.’
‘Call her Granny—everyone does. Even Connor, who was ever so stiff and formal with the patients when he first arrived. I’ll take you over to see her now if you like.’
Caitlin felt the first stirrings of excitement as she grabbed a notebook and followed Melissa across to the hospital. It was always like this at the beginning of a project—the thrill of the chase. Seeking clues and information and fitting them together, trying the facts this way and that, searching for a pattern—or a break in a pattern—that would lead to the next stage of a new discovery.
Connor Clarke could scoff at her lifestyle, but surely this excitement was as great as any other—greater than the few sexual adventures she’d undertaken, that was for sure. Although why she was thinking of Connor and sexual adventures in the same breath she didn’t know.
Or could pretend she didn’t!
Melissa led the way through a side door and along a corridor past empty rooms, finally pausing outside one that was obviously occupied—the noise from the television providing the clue.
‘Granny, this is Dr Caitlin O’Shea,’ Melissa said, after greeting the elderly woman on the bed and answering a number of questions about the health of her family.
‘The girl who’s come to do research?’ Granny said, turning towards Caitlin, bright, bird-like eyes alive with interest and intelligence. ‘Anthea Cummings told Alan, that’s my granddaughter’s husband, young Aaron’s father. Bet that Connor told you to start with me because I’m a gossip, didn’t he? Well, I don’t tell harm of anyone, but anything else you want to know about who’s who in this town, I reckon I can help you out.’
The flow of words stopped abruptly, leaving Caitlin fumbling for something to say.
‘Th-thank you,’ she stuttered, then Melissa came to her rescue.
‘Why don’t you sit down?’ she suggested to Caitlin. ‘I’ve got to get back to work.’
‘Are you sure you’re up to talking now?’ Caitlin asked Granny Russell before taking the chair Melissa indicated.
The old lady laughed.
‘At my age, if you put something off till later, later mightn’t find you home—if you get my drift.’
It was an innocent enough remark but for some reason Caitlin thought of Connor’s predecessor—the woman who’d died such a lonely, terrible death—and though she drew the chair up close to Granny’s bed and settled into it, a nameless fear hovered around her like a cold, damp mist.
CHAPTER FOUR
CAITLIN spent three hours with the elderly woman. Granny talked about her grandparents, who had been among the first white children in the district, born in primitive conditions to women who had followed their men out into ‘the bush’.
Their families had been large, medical support scanty, but in Granny’s tales, those women had lived out their lives in rough bark shanties, brought up their surviving children with strength and courage and shared an abiding optimism in the new country’s future.
Granny had delighted in regaling her guest with the medical horrors of those days—childbed fever, stillborn infants and rough bush do-it-yourself medicine, but she had drawn links between those pioneering families and given Caitlin other names.
‘You’ve been a wonderful help,’ Caitlin said, when she sensed Granny was tiring. ‘I’d like to come back and see you again, not to ask questions but to listen to your stories.’
Granny smiled at her.
‘I’d like that,’ she said, and reached out to take C
aitlin’s hand. ‘Did Connor tell you what was wrong with me?’
Caitlin shook her head.
‘Although I did a full medical degree and worked in hospitals for a few years, I’m here as a researcher, not a doctor,’ she explained. ‘He wouldn’t talk to me about his patients.’
‘Phooey!’ Granny snorted. ‘He’s far too uptight about things like that—as if everyone in town doesn’t know who’s got what disease.’
She smiled at Caitlin, then added, ‘I’ve got it too, leukaemia, but a different kind to what the children had. They could treat it with that chemo stuff but it’d make me so sick, what’s the point? So Connor brings me in when I get tired and puts good blood back into me and that keeps me going a bit longer. We’ve talked about it, Connor and I, how it will be. He’s a good man.’
This recommendation stayed with Caitlin as she walked up to the town to get some basic supplies. She’d drive to the supermarket later to shop properly, but after the session with Granny she’d needed to stretch her legs and breathe some fresh air.
Needed to get the ‘good man’ out of the forefront of her mind, too.
She reached the bakery to find it packed with customers, so she pulled out her notebook, studying her notes while she waited to be served. Ask Mrs Jenkins—see James at the garage. It was as if Granny understood the importance of accuracy and had added these people as corroboratory sources, like annotations in a textbook.
‘Help you, miss?’
‘Sorry! I’d like a poppy seed bagel and a loaf of sliced wholemeal,’ Caitlin said, wondering where all the other customers had gone. Surely she wasn’t turning into the much-caricatured absent-minded scientist.
‘You’re the research person, aren’t you?’ the plump assistant asked cheerfully as she passed the plastic-wrapped bread to Caitlin and grasped a pair of stainless-steel tongs to delve into the cabinet for the bagel. ‘I’m related to Aaron through the Russells. Not real close, mind you, but I’m one of the red ones.’
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