House for All Seasons

by Jenn J. McLeod

  ‘No.’ Cait limited her response.

  The little time she spent actually practising medicine these days hardly made her an expert in anything except budgets and business planning. It all seemed insignificant compared to the life of a vet. Did she tell him the only patients she ever ‘lost’ could usually be found again, generally hung over in some young woman’s bed the morning after a hard day’s work on the football field? When she thought about it that way, it was no wonder her parents questioned her decision to spend her winter weekends on the sidelines as team physio for the Penrith Pythons. The role was voluntary, one her father, mother, brother and husband—make that ex-husband—had thought beneath someone of Caitlin’s intelligence, which is probably why she kept the job. It satisfied the latent rebel that simmered inside her.

  Caitlin did what was expected, always had. She was a good girl and feared she always would be. She loved her father, her mother and brother very much and as a family they were a solid, tight-knit unit of achievers. Apart from being a loving family man and highly regarded community member, Dr Wynter was also a shrewd and perceptive parent, wise enough to know that allowing his daughter to spend time with the ever-changing menagerie at the Dandelion House would placate the girl’s desperate desire for a pet of her own. She’d loved all Gypsy’s animals, especially Ruby, the little Shetland pony, and BP—short for Big Pig—who’d had babies one year, each little piglet popping out one after the other, just as Alex had described.

  The memory of those piglets made Caitlin laugh.

  ‘Feel like sharing the joke?’

  ‘Oh, just wondering what my parents would make of their doctor daughter right now.’

  ‘So how’s your Dandelion House going? Settled in?’

  ‘Good. I like it. Always did, but I’m here to work—not holiday.’

  ‘I know. The new city doc has been the talk of the town. I don’t know much about what happens, I keep out of everyone’s business in the hope they’ll stay out of mine, but news of some big-wig medicine woman coming from the city to give old Doc Davis a well-earned break spread like a fire in a cane field.’

  Cait laughed. ‘I’m sure it did. I grew up here. I know how it happens.’

  ‘Why work? Why not take a break, relax.’

  ‘Doing my bit for regional medicine. My father was an early pioneer of the Rural Doctor’s Network. We lived in Calingarry Crossing most of my life. After high school we left for Sydney and Doc Davis took over the practice from my dad.’ She looked at her watch, mindful of the hour. ‘It’s time I got going.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I forgot—your car. I know I said I’d help but I, ah, sort of need to stick around here with mum and son for a bit. You best take my ute. Keep it overnight and come get me in the morning. Do you think you can find your way back to town from here? Oh, I forgot, you don’t get lost.’ He mimicked her petulant defence at the house earlier, before grinning a mouthful of white teeth.

  ‘Well, you have a long memory. Almost as long as your arms.’ Caitlin laughed at her own joke, remembering the look on the mare’s face as Alex had attempted to tie the rope around the foal’s hooves.

  She was enjoying their cheeky repartee. It was a nice change from the politically correct, equal opportunity, anti-discrimination boundaries her directorship dictated.

  ‘In this job it doesn’t hurt to have both long arms and a long memory.’

  ‘You’re going to stay out here all night?’

  ‘If I’m not happy. I like to keep an eye on things. It’s going to be a cold one.’

  ‘Can I do anything else before I go?’ Cait thought about the ridiculousness of her offer. What could she do? ‘Help light a fire or something?’

  ‘I’m fine, but nice of you to worry.’

  His smart alec grin annoyed Cait. ‘I wasn’t worrying about you,’ she insisted. ‘I’m doing what’s expected. It doesn’t seem right leaving you here.’

  ‘There’s nothing too expected about you, Doc. You’re a surprise a minute. A VW-driving, fire-lighting, animal-loving city doctor.’

  ‘Make that a dust-covered VW driver.’

  ‘Oh yeah. That. Blame Brodie.’

  Cait’s mouth dropped open. ‘Brodie the pig? You’re blaming a dead pig for trashing my car yesterday?’

  ‘I was in a hurry. I didn’t see your car until it was too late. How bad was it? Did I—’

  ‘Turn my shiny silver beetle a dusty shade of pink. Yes.’

  ‘Sort of goes with the cardigan now. Sorry. I seem to be apologising quite a bit.’

  Caitlin looked down at the cashmere cardigan with pearl buttons now covered in foetal blood and horse drool. She peeled it off and tossed it on the ground in front of Alex.

  ‘Here, my contribution in case the big tough guy gets cold.’

  ‘Thanks, but my swag will be just fine.’

  ‘What about food?’

  ‘Hey!’ He puffed up like a peacock on heat and gave his chest a Tarzan thump. ‘You’re looking at someone who got this close to a Queens Scout Award. I know how to look after myself. No cashmere required,’ he added, handing the cardigan back with a smirk. ‘There is something you can do, though. Stop on your way out and let Bert know I’m hanging around. He and Joan won’t let me go hungry.’

  ‘I’ll come back here in the morning, then. We had a deal, remember? One birthing, one jack in return.’ Cait knew she could stop on her way home and try to fix the flat herself, but then she’d have two cars. Best she leave hers flat and un-drivable until morning. ‘Car keys?’ She thrust out a hand and wiggled impatient gimme-gimme fingers.

  ‘Doc, you’ve lived in the city for too long. The keys are in the car. The keys are always in the car.’

  ‘Oh, yes, well, good. So I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep tight.’

  ‘One more thing,’ Alex called after her. ‘It’s bad enough you don’t have a blue heeler in the back. Please don’t let anyone see you driving my ute like a girl.’

  ‘No problem,’ Cait laughed as she lowered the tailgate to let Karma jump onto the tray.

  ‘And one more thing,’ he called again, whistling his dog over.

  ‘What this time?’ she chuckled.

  ‘I hope coming home lives up to your expectations, Dr Wynter.’

  So far, so good, she mused, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip to bite the mischievous grin into submission.

  *

  After all that, Caitlin had completely forgotten about shopping. She’d planned to come back via town to stock up on a few bits and pieces. At this hour on a Saturday, she didn’t think anything apart from the pub would be open. Besides, she had to get out of these clothes. Luckily, she’d packed a small food box, mostly breakfast bits like muesli, long-life soy milk and tea bags. The only other edibles she had were her road trip essentials: a bag of Minties, some jelly snakes and a packet of Fruit Tingles. Unfortunately, they were all in the glove box of her little car, abandoned on the side of the road.

  At the house this morning, she’d spotted a vegetable garden of sorts. She could check it out to determine if anything was edible. Goodness knows how long it had been since anyone had maintained the patch. Amber Bailey-Blair had been the last person to stay, but she was also the last person Cait imagined dirtying her hands. Amber could decorate a garden by standing next to one; she’d never dig one, not the Amber Cait remembered, and not the Amber she’d met in the Madgick & Associates office.

  How the girls had remained friends bemused Cait. Looking back, the label ‘accidental friends’ seemed most appropriate. Four young girls thrown together for one reason or another; and what an odd bunch. As a group, they’d gravitated together one by one—all very different. Cait had clicked with Poppy almost straight away, admiring the rebel in her, even though she could also be a bit pig-headed and bombastic. Poppy liked to stir the sauce a little, whereas a generous and nurturing Sara liked to serve it. Caitlin had thought Sara would make a great mother one day. And while she hadn’t asked when they were reacquainting them
selves in the boardroom, there’d been no mention of children or a husband to prevent Sara returning to Calingarry Crossing.

  Amber had attached herself to their clique part way through high school. At first Cait had been jealous, not of Amber’s looks, even though she was pretty and popular, but of her confidence and couldn’t-care-less attitude. People seemed drawn to the attractive girl with the head of ginger curls, the well-documented and dubious halo effect in full force. Even Caitlin’s father had made time for Amber, but then he’d made time for lots of people. The same couldn’t be said about Cait’s mother. Mrs Wynter’s charity had a limit. She was always referring to Amber as ‘the young Bailey girl’ and calling her contrary. She used to say to Caitlin, Tell that girl something’s black and she’ll say it’s white. Tell her it’s wet and she’ll say it’s dry.

  ‘Tell Caitlin Wynter it’s raining and she’ll not only agree with you,’ Cait grumbled, ‘she’ll give you a blasted umbrella!’

  Compliance was the chink in Caitlin’s armour. At school, Amber had nicknamed her ‘CC’—Conservative Caitlin—but she was dux for a reason. She’d worked hard. Besides, by not coming under the constant notice of teachers or making a fuss like Amber Bailey, Cait had been able to keep her life simple and her parents off her back.

  Now here she was harvesting a vegetable patch. Delighted to find plenty of edible options, she happily settled for spinach leaves, cherry tomatoes, shallots, and what was left of the basil, which had bolted, but would still taste great.

  ‘And eggs.’ There were eggs in a basket on the kitchen table. ‘Looks like it’s frittata or frittata tonight. We’ll shop tomorrow, Karma. Let’s go, girl.’

  40

  Cait heard the voice before she saw the wheelchair weaving through the café towards her.

  Will Travelli stopped short of her table to play a little air guitar, singing, ‘Doctor, doctor, give me the news, I’ve got a bad case of not doin’ poos,’finishing with a flamboyant, ‘Whah! Whah! Wang!’

  ‘Still charming the girls, I see.’ She laughed and leaned across to hug the café owner. ‘You’re looking better than the last time I saw you. Shame about the singing.’

  ‘One of the positives to this thing.’ Will slapped his wheelchair. ‘Nobody expects me to be good at everything anymore. Speaking of perfection, how is the clever and convivial Doctor Cait? You sure do brighten a Calingarry winter’s day.’

  ‘I’m here to do my bit for the girls. I gather by now you know the story.’

  ‘About the mysterious four? Are you kidding? You didn’t see the poster for Saddleton cinema? You’re like the next best thing to Sex and the City. They’re making a movie out of it. Box office sensations, all of you.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that make my parents proud?’

  ‘What can I get you this fine winter morn?’

  ‘How about a shot of caffeine? I have to be somewhere, but I need coffee more. I’d better take one to go as well.’

  ‘No worries, Doc. Sit down, roll up your sleeve, and I’ll be back with a jab in no time.’

  ‘Make it flat white. And big,’ she called out and saw Will wave a hand in acknowledgement.

  Seeing his progress, how far he’d come, made Caitlin feel good about her profession for a change. Success stories did that, and the Will Travelli case had been a major triumph in medical circles. The dozens of not-so-successful cases were the ones that sat in the corner of Cait’s mind, crowding her head at night, making her wake up wondering if ghosts were real, and forcing her to question her diagnoses and choices.

  Cait was good at lots of things, but she was an expert at questioning her choices. She did it less these days, especially since she’d decided to ease up on meeting everyone else’s expectations and focus on what she needed—like insisting on some time out, away from the family business. Being a doctor came easily but not naturally, and every not-so-successful case sliced off another tiny piece of her heart. According to Cait’s father, such experiences increased one’s immunity to sadness. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she didn’t want that sort of immunity.

  She wished she’d been part of Will’s trauma team. What an amazing outcome. While not directly involved, she’d been consulting physician in the orthopaedic surgery unit around the time of his accident. She’d seen the crash report and the details of his wife’s injuries. There’d been lots of sad faces and head-shaking, with staff agreeing that the woman was luckier not to have survived.

  Luckier? Cait mused. Tell that to a grieving family.

  Caitlin had followed Will’s career since leaving school, growing to love sports early on in her medical training—little choice in the doctors’ lounge of a hospital where sport was the hot topic most days. Cait and Poppy had already left for Sydney University and Amber and Sara had been in senior school when nineteen-year-old Will moved to Sydney to join the South-West Dingos football team.

  By twenty he was married to Ebony, and while Will had shied away from the hype surrounding their union, his wife seemed a natural. She’d been arguing about it with him the night of the crash that had killed her and left Will fighting for his life, two children under two waiting at home with their inconsolable grandparents.

  At first, Will had refused to be angry with his wife until a tell-all magazine exclusive—courtesy of Ebony’s best friend—told him, and anyone interested, that Ebony had aborted their first baby because the timing hadn’t fit with a scheduled Sports Illustrated cover photo shoot.

  Betrayal. The final devastating blow.

  After the accident, Will won a serious amount of compensation, which Cait presumed had helped pay for the café and his new life back in Calingarry Crossing. Looking at him laughing and joking with customers, he certainly seemed happy and well adjusted. Cait couldn’t help wondering about the impact of Sara’s return on him.

  ‘Here you go, Doc. First shot’s on the house.’

  ‘So, how are you doing, Will?’

  ‘This boofhead keeps out of the headlines, unless you count last month’s Saddleton News featuring the little fundraising extravaganza I organised, although all credit to the fundraising queen for her advice and support. That Amber Bailey-Blair knows her stuff when it comes to putting on a shindig. This town hasn’t seen that much pizzazz since … well never. Raised a motza for the under-sevens footy team I coach.’

  ‘Under-sevens. So now you’re influencing a whole new generation of boofheads?’

  ‘Hey, just keeping you doctors in work and luxury European cars. But wait, what’s this I see?’ he mocked, craning his neck. ‘A ute? Caitlin Wynter—school dux, teachers’ pet and A-grade student—driving a muscle car, complete with mangy mutt.’

  ‘Hey, don’t call my mutt mangy. And there’s a perfectly good explanation for the car, which I’m sure you’ll make something out of if I tell you, so I won’t.’ She took a swig of coffee and checked her watch. ‘Mmm, that coffee is perfect and exactly what the doctor ordered, but I’ve got to get going. Put the takeaway on my tab. Thanks, Will.’

  ‘Tab?’ Will chuckled. ‘Promise you won’t be a stranger while you’re in town. I’d like to catch up sometime.’

  ‘Sure thing. Me too. I start at Doc Davis’s in a couple of days. I’ll be sure to see you then for my daily jab.’ She waved before slipping into the driver’s seat.

  *

  Once out of town, Cait pushed the pedal down on the black ute. The car did drive well, flying over the corrugations. By the time she’d found her way back to Bert’s farm, and through each of the six gates, Alex was saying goodbye to the old couple.

  ‘I thought you were punishing me and making me walk.’

  ‘Thought about it.’ Cait went to hop out and change seats.

  ‘No sweat. You look quite at home behind the wheel. I’m happy to passenger for a change. Wouldn’t trust me to stay awake right now, anyway. Get up there, Blue.’ He growled the order, banging a palm against the side of the car.

  The dogs seemed to enjoy their reunion, romping about o
n the back tray, growling playfully. Alex tossed his gear in the far corner, slammed the tailgate back up into position and slapped a hand on the side, twice this time. ‘Come on, settle down, kids.’ Then he sank into the passenger seat, dipped his black felt hat down on his forehead to shield his eyes and folded his arms across his chest.

  ‘Don’t go getting too comfy there—you’ve got gates to open. Besides, I got you a coffee. Rough night?’

  ‘Long and cold by the time I went back to Bert’s, but mother and son are both doing fine this morning. Can’t ask for a better ending and I like happy endings. Hopefully your car will be another one. Best go see if it’s still in one piece.’

  ‘It had better be. Here.’ She shoved the coffee in his direction with a smirk.

  ‘Ah,’ he sighed, stroking the cardboard cup. ‘Good coffee, nice coffee.’

  *

  The VW appeared untouched and unharmed, except for a splattering of bird poop.

  Blasted trees!

  Cait thanked Alex for the ride, assuring him that she didn’t need help to change the tyre, but Alex insisted two pairs of hands were better than one, and there was only one jack, after all. Quietly, Cait was glad. In the end, however, not even their combined effort could loosen the factory-tightened wheel nuts. Alex made a call on his sat-phone and a towie arrived not ten minutes later. With a little brute strength, and a handy gadget Caitlin had never seen before, he had the nuts off and the new wheel on in a flash.

  ‘Thanks, Derek, mate. What do we owe you?’

  ‘Forget it,’ the podgy, pot-bellied man said, a swipe of his hand under his nose adding yet another greasy smudge. ‘You was good to stick around for my Fluffy the other day. Besides, don’t get to see too many of this sorta thing round these parts. Mind if I take a look in the engine. In back, ain’t it?’