Trav waited, hoping for more information. He wanted to know what had happened to Tammy’s actual parents.
As if she had read his mind, Beatrice sighed, ‘And then there was the poor girl’s mother . . . ’
‘Dad? Tammy needs you.’ It was Billy speaking softly while pulling on his arm.
‘What?’
‘Tammy. She needs you, c’mon.’ His son was dragging him in the direction of Casualty, leaving Mrs Parker staring after them.
‘Bye, Travis,’ called Beatrice. ‘Happy hunting!’ As he glanced at her, he could have sworn the old woman winked. It was that flutter of her right eye again. Maybe it was a tic. Maybe it wasn’t. Whatever it was, it didn’t really matter because up ahead all he could hear was Joe McCauley’s voice:
‘Fuck off! Just get me out of here!’
Tammy was standing beside the curtain to the cubicle, her back to the heavy plastic doors that led to the rest of the hospital. Joe was sitting up on a trolley bed facing her, a hospital gown round his middle baring a grey-haired and wrinkly chest. He was yelling his head off.
‘I’m not being admitted into no fuckin’ hospital. You just put me back in that ambulance and take me home!’
‘But Mr McCauley, you have a broken hip.’ This was from a registrar clutching X-ray films, standing a safe distance from the bed. ‘And you need an operation to give you the best chance of recovery.’
‘I don’t give a shit what you think. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’ve just got a few bruises.’
‘Mr McCauley,’ said a nurse, who stepped out from behind the registrar. She was employing her very best ‘difficult patient’ voice. ‘The break is high up in the hip socket. We need to operate to set it in the right place, so you can walk properly again. The orthopedic surgeon told you that.’
‘You’re not getting your mitts on my body, you damned hussy! There’s nothing wrong with me. Take me back to my –’ Joe stopped when he spotted Hunter.
Tammy, the registrar and nurse all turned to see what had caught his attention.
‘Trav, maybe you can make Joe see some sense?’ Tammy interjected. She had her arms folded across her chest.
‘Tell them, Hunter. Tell them I’m fine,’ said Joe, glimpsing a chance of redemption. ‘See, he’s a bushman, he understands. You can’t shut me up in this place. All these walls and people and sterile things and no fresh air.’ His voice went from full throttle to a pitiful whine. ‘You just can’t.’
Trav shifted from one foot to the other. Why was he the one they were all looking at for the answers? He felt like a wild dog that’d just been cornered. How the hell had he got himself into this situation?
He could relate to what the old man was saying, sure he could, but looking at the registrar’s face was enough to tell him the break wasn’t good. How to get that through to old Joe though? There was a chance to fix things and if the old bloke wanted to remain independent, well . . .
Travis sighed. A man had to do what a man had to do.
‘Joe.’ Trav drawled it out slow but steady, all the time keeping his eyes on the old bloke’s face. They conducted a silent conversation.
Be a man, McCauley. Stand up and be a man.
I’m old and I’m fuckin’ scared.
It’ll be right. We’ll take care of you.
I don’t need taking care of!
You do.
Don’t want to have to rely on anyone.
Stiff shit. You’re going to have to.
It took a few moments but then, finally, movement. Old Joe’s nod was almost imperceptible and Trav was sure he was the only one who caught it. He looked down at his son. Billy was standing by his side, a small smile on his face. He’d got the message too.
Not so the nurse. ‘Mr McCauley, you must have this operation –’
‘All right!’ snapped Joe, still looking at Hunter.
‘What?’ The nurse was taken aback. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said all right. What, are you deaf as well as dumb?’
‘Uncle Joe.’ Tammy’s voice held a warning.
‘Don’t you Uncle Joe me, you –’
‘I know, I know, you fucking land-grabber,’ said Tammy, arms still folded. ‘You’ve made that perfectly clear. And I’m not so keen on you either. Be as rude as you like to me, but these people here’ – she swung her arm out to encompass the medical staff – ‘they’re here to help you. The least you can do is be polite.’
The tense silence that followed was broken by a doctor entering the cubicle. Trav assumed he was the orthopaedic surgeon. Long, thin, bare fingers stroked a clipboard as he contemplated his notes. ‘I’ve spoken to theatre,’ he said, unaware of the atmosphere around him though he could have cut it with one of his scalpels. ‘We can go in as soon as the operating suite is free.’ He looked bored – and a little arrogant too. ‘Now, Mr . . . ?’
‘McCauley. It’s Mr Joe McCauley,’ said the nurse, simpering at the new arrival. The registrar had muttered something and disappeared. Must have known he was out-gunned, thought Trav.
‘Joe, we need to operate on your hip.’ The man spoke slowly and deliberately, like he was addressing a child. ‘You’ll have to be in hospital a short while but then you should be right to head home to . . . ?’
‘Lake Grace. McCauley’s Hill, Lake Grace,’ said the nurse. She really wanted to please.
‘Do you live on your own, Joe?’
‘Nup. I’ve got me two dogs and cattle.’
The doctor looked up. ‘No one else? A wife? Partner? Friend?’
‘Nup. Don’t need nobody else. Just me dogs and cattle.’
‘They’re not likely to be able to look after you though, are they? While you’re recuperating?’
‘I don’t know ’bout that. Boots and Digger’ll do well enough.’
The doctor ignored Joe and spoke to the nurse. ‘He’ll have to go into the Lake Grace nursing home for some respite care after here. Can you organise that?’ The man spoke like it was a rhetorical question. He smiled his smarmy grin and the nurse melted like a Mars Bar on a hot dashboard.
‘Now you just wait a cotton-pickin’ minute! I ain’t goin’ into no bloody nursing home! I’m going back to me hill,’ said Joe, sitting up straighter, then quickly lying back down with an agonised look on his face. The old man was starting to shake so bad the bed was rattling. ‘I’m goin’ home! Tell them, Hunter. I’m going home!’
‘Mr . . . ?’
‘McCauley.’ The nurse piped up again.
‘Right. McCauley. Well, you won’t be able to look after yourself for a while following your discharge from hospital. I’m sorry but it will have to be the nursing home.’
Joe looked terrified.
Trav felt something crawl up his leg. A hand tug on his shirt.
Billy.
‘We’ll look after him.’
Trav looked around. Who said that? Then he realised he had. Shit.
‘Trav?’ said Tammy. ‘Are you sure?’
No, I’m not fucking sure, he thought as he opened his mouth to speak. He hadn’t talked this much in months. ‘He can go home to his hill. Billy and me – we’ll look after him.’
The sheer relief on Joe’s face was worth it.
‘I’ll help,’ added Tammy, quickly turning back to the doctor.
Joe’s face turned thunderous.
Trav frowned at the old man. You want the nursing home, bucko?
Joe had the grace to look discomfited.
‘Great. That’s sorted then,’ said the surgeon. ‘Scratch the nursing home. Some time in hospital and then home with these good people taking care of you.’ He flicked a glance towards Trav, then looked Tammy up and down. Trav could see by his expression that the doctor liked what he saw.
Trav moved a step forwards, then wondered why.
&n
bsp; ‘I’ll be off to gown up for the operation,’ the surgeon announced. ‘I’ll see you in theatre, Joe. Now, nurse, have you got a few spare minutes?’
The pair walked off without looking back, heads together, legs moving in perfect synchronicity. And Trav couldn’t help but wonder if they’d be passing an empty broom cupboard on the way to the theatre.
Chapter 16
Joe leaned back into the pillows, wanting the crisp linen to swallow him whole, magically transporting him back to McCauley’s Hill. He wanted to be sitting in his rocking chair on the verandah of his house, perusing his kingdom, judging the weather by the look of the mountains, wondering at the beautiful day.
How the hell did he get himself into this situation? All he’d done was try to shoot the damn rabbit which ended up being a bloody hare. If that bugger of a kid had of stayed out of the way he mightn’t have jerked the gun to try and miss the boy and over-balanced the fucking rocking chair. If only he’d built that verandah rail, then he mightn’t have toppled off the deck, clocked his damned noggin on the way down and landed in this whole friggin’ great mess.
He sighed and tried to will his body to stop shaking. He felt exhausted. They’d stitched up his head – only a couple of loops and they’d given him a bit of local anaesthestic to numb the job. The pain in his hip was awful though. It wasn’t so bad if he stayed still, but all those X-rays and the doctors prodding and poking at his hip had stirred it up. Now a bloody operation. He’d never been operated on in his life.
And the bastard surgeon had the gall to tell him he couldn’t go home afterwards! Who the hell did he think he was? Just ’cause he’d been to uni longer than most people stuck at a job these days didn’t mean he had the God-given right to tell Joe McCauley what to do.
‘That was nice of Hunter,’ said a female voice.
It was her. Maybe if he just kept his eyes shut and concentrated hard he could pretend she was her grandmother.
‘He didn’t have to do that, you know.’
No, Hunter didn’t have to offer to help, to stop Joe’s worst nightmare from happening – being locked up in some nursing home in town. But his neighbour understood. He was just like Joe. A loner, a bushman, a jilted lover, a boundary rider on the edges of life who’d just retreated into himself. It was comfortable there. At least on your own you knew who you were dealing with. There was no putting yourself out there to be used and abused. Only one difference, though. A big one. Hunter had a son.
What the hell? He was supposed to just be listening to her voice, not her words.
She’s right; he didn’t have to do that, Joey! And there was Nellie, as always turning up like she was his bloody conscience or something. Didn’t the woman have better things to do up there in Heaven? He flicked his finger, unconsciously trying to push Nellie away.
The girl spoke again. ‘It’ll all be okay. We’ll work it out.’
And it was funny, he believed her. This girl, who by rights could and should have been his granddaughter – a chit of thing with a useless runaway husband who couldn’t keep his pecker in his pants according to the stock agent. Her and Hunter and that damnable kid. It just might work out. It had to. There was nothing else for it. He’d have to put up and shut up if he wanted to stay on his hill.
He opened one eye. Took a peek. Yep. She even looked like her grandmother.
Tammy sank down into the nearest chair. What a mess. At least Joe’s bed had stopped rattling. The old bloke had been shaking so hard she’d thought the trolley was going to work its way out of the cubicle.
To be so scared. So alone. It was just dreadful.
She shuddered. She knew how he felt.
‘I’m going to find some coffee,’ said Trav. ‘Caffeine’s good in these situations. Want some?’
What type of situations? Seeing someone so terrified their bones were shaking in terror? Someone so obsessively defiant about being a hermit, forced to admit they might actually need some help?
‘No, thanks. I’ll grab some water.’
‘Coffee is good.’ He was persistent, she’d give him that.
‘So is chocolate. I’ll have a hot chocolate then, if you’re offering.’ She couldn’t even pay for it. No wallet.
She watched as Trav walked off, Billy hurrying along at his side. The child was like a little puppy looking up at its owner, trying to please but not knowing how. She sighed. If only Travis would notice him.
She turned back to Joe. He’d closed his eyes. She supposed that was one way to indicate he didn’t wish to talk to anybody. Particularly her.
‘That was nice of Hunter,’ she ventured.
Silence from the bed.
‘He didn’t have to do that, you know.’
A flutter of a finger. Not much, but still – she was encouraged.
‘It’ll all be okay. We’ll work it out.’
Joe opened one eye. Looked straight at her. Barely dipped his head. Shut the eye again.
That was all she was going to get. But, she guessed, something was better than nothing.
A nurse, a different one this time, hustled in, followed by a hospital porter. ‘Time to go, Mr McCauley. We need to get you prepped for the operation.’ They fussed around, pushing things, pulling things, getting the trolley bed ready to travel. When they were done, the sister smiled at Tammy. ‘You’ll need to go to the desk and check out how long this’ll take. Maybe find the hospital Quiet Room or a coffee at the café? Mr McCauley, say goodbye to your . . . ?’
Tammy looked down at her Redback workboots. Studied the dried cow-shit patterns swirling across the well-worn leather. She didn’t want to witness the nurse’s pitying look when Joe let loose with a new string of profanities.
‘Ahem . . .’ said Joe, clearing his throat. ‘Great-niece. She’s my niece.’
Tammy’s head shot up in surprise.
But Joe was already on his way out of the cubicle. The last thing Tammy saw of the old man was a hand, slightly lifted, index finger pointing to the ceiling, the classic country wave – gidday, goodbye, be seeing you soon. She was amazed. She’d expected it to be the middle finger.
‘He’s gone in?’ Travis was back.
‘What? Sorry, yes. We have to move out of here, though. They need the cubicle.’
Trav handed her a cardboard cup. The contents smelled divine. ‘I stuck a bit of sugar in there too. Thought you might need it.’
The man surprised her at every turn. He might look like a wild man; a hard-arsed son-of-a-bitch from the back of beyond, but he sure knew how to turn it on when needed.
‘Thanks. Very thoughtful.’
Trav seemed to wince at the last word. Okay, so he didn’t want to be thoughtful. Or at least he didn’t want her to think he was thoughtful.
‘Hey, Tammy. Want some of my Kit-Kat?’ said Billy, offering her a bar of chocolate.
‘Thanks, mate, you’re a legend.’ At least his son had no problem with thoughtful. ‘Just what I need today, a triple dose of sugar.’ She took a sliver of the bar and sunk her teeth into it. Yum.
Her phone bleeped in her pocket. A text message. Damn. She hadn’t turned it off as she came in.
It was Lucy.
‘I’d better go and answer this.’ She waved the phone around. Trav had moved to pick up Joe’s new bag. The old man hadn’t even realised it was his. Just as well. Another subject to cop verbal abuse over. Well, she was used to that, thanks to Shon.
‘We’ll find out where to wait,’ said Trav. ‘Meet you in the foyer.’ He walked towards the big island reception area in the ED, followed by his son.
Tammy headed out the emergency ward doors into the fresh air of the ambulance bay. Two ambulances were parked having just dispatched their patients. Rob Sellers was standing there talking to the new paramedic, Dean Gibson. Damn it. She’d gone to school with Rob’s wife Susan. She didn’t need to run into the
se two.
‘Tammy! How are you, mate?’ Rob called, walking over to her and hauling the other bloke with him. ‘You met the new ambo yet? Deano, this is Tammy. Tammy Murphy. I mean, McCauley. What are you calling yourself these days?’
‘McCauley. And I’ve met Dean. He brought Joe in,’ said Tammy trying to smile.
‘How’s the old fella going? Heard him carrying on from out here! He’s a crazy old bugger,’ said Dean. ‘Abusive too.’
‘Well, you’d be the same if you’d broken a hip!’ Tammy snapped back, wondering what had got into her. The old man had been abusing her, for goodness sake.
‘Sor-ry. No offence,’ said Dean looking uncomfortable. ‘Judging by what went on earlier, I didn’t think you two got on.’
‘We don’t.’
Rob was looking from one to the other. ‘Dean, maybe you’d better move that ambulance out of the parking bay. I think it’s blocking the traffic.’
As Dean edged away, Rob slung an arm around Tammy’s shoulder and walked with her.
‘Hey, go easy on old Deano. He’s just trying to be nice.’
Tammy sighed. The cup in her hand slopped from side to side, lukewarm milky brown liquid dripping onto her fingers. ‘Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s been one of those days.’
‘I heard about Shon. You okay?’
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ Tammy said, sucking some chocolate off her thumb, not even wondering how Rob knew. That was the bush telegraph for you. ‘In reality, it’s been over between us for a long time. A couple of years in fact. I’ve just been burying my head in the sand. He didn’t love me any more. Loved someone else better. That’s all.’
‘That’s no good,’ said Rob. ‘Tammy –’ He stopped, hesitant to go on.
‘Spit it out, Rob.’
‘Well, it’s just that it’d be hard for him too, mate. You know, living up to the McCauleys.’
‘How’s that? There’s none of us left to live up to!’
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