by Leah Martyn
When Matt returned her call, she was with a patient and had to curtail him. ‘I’ll have to get back to you, Dr McKellar,’ she said in professional tones for the benefit of her patient, and heard his muttered expletive. ‘Ten minutes?’ she enquired blandly. ‘Thank you.’
Oh, those slow, ticking minutes.
One eye on the time, Joanna hastily reassured her patient, the garrulous Mrs Burns, that, no, castor oil was not an appropriate treatment for shingles.
‘But I heard if I rubbed it on, Doctor—’
‘There’s an antiviral medication on the market now, Mrs B.,’ Joanna broke in briskly. ‘And as we’ve caught you in time, it should give you great relief from the irritation almost immediately.’ Hastily, Joanna wrote out the script and handed it over. ‘While you’re at the chemist, ask for a non-alkaline cleanser as well. It’s not a good idea to use soap at the moment.’
Joanna had barely closed the door after her patient when her phone rang. ‘Matt?’
‘What the hell’s going on?’
Joanna took a quick breath. ‘I was going to call you—’
‘Never mind all that,’ He overrode her with an urgent edge to his voice. ‘What’s up?’
Joanna plonked herself on the edge of the desk and stared blankly at the pale blue Venetian blind at her window. She could still hardly take it in…
‘We’re being taken over. Dr Strachan’s sold the practice to one of those multinational conglomerates. They’ll come in and gut the place, treble the number of doctors to generate more income for the shareholders and give us all a cubbyhole to work in. I’d have to reapply for my own job.’
‘So when are you coming to me?’
‘Matt…’ Joanna gave a little groan. Things were moving at the speed of light. She didn’t know whether she could keep up.
‘You are going to take up my job offer, aren’t you?’
Her fingers squeezed tight across her temple. She must be, mustn’t she, otherwise, why had she flown to tell him what had happened? ‘Yes,’ she said, and then added, ‘Yes,’ a bit more firmly. ‘The alterations are to begin almost at once so, unless I want to stay here, I don’t have to hang about.’ She swallowed and took the flying jump from the cliff top. ‘I could start on Monday.’
‘Good.’ Matt sounded suddenly businesslike. ‘I’ll get weaving on your paperwork. And, Joanna?’ His voice softened to huskiness.
Her heart fluttered. ‘Yes?’
‘Welcome aboard.’
Jason took the news better than Joanna had feared. They were in the kitchen when she told him.
‘Why would Dr Strachan want to sell to those morons?’ he snorted, pulling the ring top on a can of soft drink.
‘Because he’s getting on in years, I suppose.’ Joanna strove to be fair, spooning instant coffee into a mug. ‘And probably because he saw it as an opportunity to get a lump sum together for his retirement. And he might not have had the chance again. The people who orchestrate these kinds of takeovers don’t hesitate to move on if people start dithering about whether to sell or not.’
‘What about your patients?’
Joanna sighed. That part was killing her. ‘I’ve already begun contacting them and telling them what’s happening. I imagine most of them will continue to come to the clinic and take their chance with a new doctor.’
Jason fiddled with the knot in his school tie. ‘So—are you going to take the job at the sports-medicine clinic?’
‘I’ve told Matt I would. I need the challenge, Jase,’ she added after a long pause, knowing she sounded almost pleading, but he hadn’t said anything, just stood against the doorframe, taking mouthfuls of his drink.
‘I’m pulling out of the basketball team, Mum.’
‘Why?’ As if she didn’t know.
Jason reddened slightly. ‘It’s not what you think,’ he said defensively. ‘I just want to concentrate on my athletics. I’m in the hundred metres sprint and long jump. I should do OK, don’t you reckon?’
Joanna looked up and sent him a crooked smile. ‘Well you’ve certainly got the legs for it.’ Opening the fridge, she took out milk for her coffee. ‘Will you tell Matt, then?’ she asked casually, and sensed her son’s almost palpable unease.
‘I thought you might.’
‘Wouldn’t it be the mature thing for you to tell him?’
Jason’s eyes filled with uncertainty.
Almost holding her breath, Joanna watched her son’s throat tighten with heartbreaking vulnerability. Was she pushing him too far?
He crunched his empty can and tossed it into the bin. ‘I guess I could swing by the club after school tomorrow…’
‘That might be a good idea.’ Joanna nodded, relief flooding through her. Given all the circumstances, it was a daunting prospect for an adolescent to face up to. She was so proud of him. And she was sure Matt would meet him halfway. But, oh, lord, why was bringing up kids such a minefield?
‘With your new job…’ Jason was suddenly lighthearted, dragging off his tie and tossing it over the back of a chair ‘…we’ll still be able to go and see Steffi’s mum, won’t we?’
‘Of course. Absolutely.’
‘Cool.’ Jason’s face was wreathed in smiles. ‘’Cos there’s a comp for a history essay about the early days of Glenville coming up. The first prize is a weekend trip to the Sydney museum. I thought Mrs Phillips might be able to clue me in and I could write stuff the other guys won’t have.’
‘Well, then…’ Joanna flicked out a hand and ruffled his hair. ‘We’d better see what we can arrange. Hadn’t we?’
CHAPTER SIX
‘SORRY to throw you in at the deep end,’ Matt apologised on Monday morning.
Joanna touched the neckline of her brand-new T-shirt with the clinic’s logo and yanked in a breath to still her nerves. It was all so different. ‘What do you have for me?’
‘A possible case of anorexia.’ He frowned at the contents of the slim file. ‘I wanted to give you a slow and leisurely orientation,’ he said ruefully. ‘But this can’t wait.’
Joanna tugged her chair closer. ‘Fill me in.’
‘Sasha Wardell, age fifteen.’ Matt’s mouth compressed. ‘We’ve only come across her by chance. Her mother brought her here for some physio after a back injury. Elle expressed her concerns to me after she’d treated the girl initially.’
Joanna’s eyes widened in query. ‘What kind of activity is she into that would cause the injury?’
‘She’s a gymnast. Very promising, from all accounts. She’s aiming for the Olympics.’
‘And starving herself in the process, by the sound of it.’ Joanna took the file and ran through the scant information. ‘Obviously we have to tread carefully and if she’s in denial, it’s going to be a long haul.’
‘And best handled by my new associate.’
Joanna sent him a sugary smile. ‘You’ve been saving this up for me, haven’t you?’
‘Not true.’ Matt palmed his innocence. ‘Sasha only came to us a few days ago. I was still considering the best way to go.’
‘Hmm.’ Joanna closed the file, two tiny earnest lines jumping into sharp relief between her brows. ‘As a priority, I’d like to talk to the mother. Sasha’s a juvenile. I can’t start treating her without parental permission. But obviously I’ll need to observe the youngster beforehand.’ She looked preoccupied, her mind focused on the best possible path to take. ‘Any chance I could look in on one of her physio sessions?’
‘As a matter of fact, she’s with Elle now.’ Matt leaned forward and his knuckles brushed her cheek briefly. ‘I’ll take you down.’
‘It’s possible the mother has concerns too, and is finding it difficult to voice them,’ Joanna said consideringly as they made their way down the stairs from Matt’s office and onto a mezzanine floor.
‘Very possible,’ he agreed, pushing back a curtain and leading her between a series of couches and pieces of rehab equipment. ‘You’ll find Elle in the screened-off cube in the co
rner.’
‘Right.’ Joanna nodded. ‘I’ll keep it all low-key.’
‘And check back with me.’ Matt touched her fleetingly on the shoulder.
Joanna pulled aside the cheerful floral curtain around the cubicle and stepped inside. ‘Good morning, Elle.’
‘Doctor,’ the physio acknowledged stiffly.
Joanna sighed inwardly. She’d have to try to find a way to break down Elle’s antagonism. It didn’t need rocket science to work out the physio considered Matt her private property. That she resented Joanna coming on staff had been apparent from her frosty little reception earlier in his office. ‘OK if I look in on your session for a minute?’
‘Be my guest.’
Joanna shrugged off the less than gracious invitation. In the rough and tumble of medical training, she’d come up against the odd difficult personality. In the larger scheme of things, one more was neither here or there. Instead, she switched her mind to what she was here for and sent their young patient a warm smile. ‘Hi, Sasha. I’m Joanna. How’s it going?’
In baggy shorts and T-shirt, Sasha was lying on her back, looking wide-eyed and vulnerable. ‘Still hurts a bit.’
‘Try the hamstring stretches for me now, please, Sasha,’ Elle came in with brisk authority. ‘Position your hands behind your thigh to support your leg and pull up. Straighten your leg, honey. That’s it. Hold for twenty and come down slowly. Good work. Couple more of those and then we’ll get some heat onto that muscle. Are you getting out of bed the way I showed you?’
‘Rolling onto my side and pushing up through my arms.’ The youngster turned a hopeful smile in Elle’s direction. ‘Are you going to give me a massage today?’
‘You bet.’ Elle busied herself with the small trolley that held the apparatus for transferring the heat probes to the injured muscles. ‘Like some music as well?’
‘Yes, please.’
Even that short workout had the child looking exhausted. Joanna slid her hands into the side pockets of her trousers, nibbling her lip in conjecture. Sasha was certainly very thin, almost to the point of fragility, and her skin was exceptionally pale. Perhaps she never saw the sun. And if that was the case, they could be looking at a vitamin D deficiency as well.
‘Thank you, Elle.’ Joanna looked purposeful as she turned and slipped from the cubicle. Sasha Wardell’s health needed further investigation. And urgently.
Bent on her mission, she went in search of Matt.
‘You’re seriously worried, aren’t you?’ Leading the way back to his office, he pushed her gently into a chair. ‘Coffee-time.’
Joanna rested her chin on her hand, watching him. ‘Is there a chance Sasha’s mother will be coming to collect her?’
‘That’s been the m.o., I believe.’ Matt placed the mug of coffee in front of her and sent her a crooked smile. ‘No doughnuts, I’m afraid.’
‘Bad for the hips.’ Joanna lifted the hot drink and sipped gratefully. ‘From what I observed, and my limited knowledge of physio procedures, I’d say Elle will be about another half-hour with Sasha. In the meantime, I could probably slip in a quick consult with the mum and then, guided by what she can tell me, I’ll talk to Sasha.’
‘Sounds good.’ Matt glanced at his watch. ‘If your timing’s right, Mrs Wardell should be here directly. She usually waits in the foyer until Sasha’s finished.’
‘OK.’ Joanna gulped down the rest of her coffee and got to her feet.
Matt put out a restraining hand. ‘Tell me exactly how you’re going to play this.’
She blinked. Was he about to put a brake on her autonomy? Well, she wasn’t having that. Either she worked on equal terms with him or not at all. She managed a stiff kind of smile which didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘Don’t you trust me to handle matters my own way?’
‘Until your orientation is complete, I need to keep an eye on things.’
‘Don’t you mean keep an eye on me?’ She brought her chin up, refusing to flinch.
‘No, I don’t.’ He scrubbed a hand across his cheekbones in obvious frustration. ‘Joanna, I’m the director here. That means I’m responsible for the kind of care and advice our clients are given.’
Joanna huffed her distaste. ‘So, they’re clients we deal with here, are they? Not patients!’ She turned away, her expression tight. ‘You should’ve told me, Matthew.’
‘Joanna…’ Matt reached for, hauling her in against him and forcing her to acknowledge him. ‘Stop it,’ he cajoled softly. ‘You’ll be brilliant.’
‘Will I?’ Disturbed by the sensations he was arousing, she braced her palms against his chest and tilted herself back.
Matt’s dry smile pleated the corners of his mouth. ‘I have every faith in you, Dr Winters.’
‘Well, that’s a relief.’ She gave a shaky smile. ‘You’ll have to excuse my first-day nerves. And it has been a stressful few days—leaving the Strachan and everything…’
‘I know.’ Matt put his hands to her elbows, smoothing them up inside the sleeves of her T-shirt to enclose her upper arms. ‘And I’m sorry if I’ve seemed to add to your sense of feeling pressured.’ His blue eyes glinted with dry humour. ‘But I had to get you here somehow, didn’t I?’
His look was so intense, her heart leapt, banging a drumbeat inside her chest, and she had to step back, breaking his hold on her arms. ‘Did…Jason come to see you?’ she sidetracked quickly, looking at the floor. ‘He hasn’t said anything and I haven’t liked to ask.’
A beat of silence.
‘Yes, he did. We talked man to man.’
Joanna looked up quickly, glimpsing something measured in the blue depths of his eyes. She swallowed. ‘And?’
He lifted a shoulder. ‘I don’t think he hates my guts quite as much as he thought he did, but he’s certainly protective of you, Joanna.’ His smile was a twisted parody. ‘I’ll have to watch where I put my size nines in future.’
She made a sound in protest. ‘It’s not a contest, Matt.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ he said bluntly. ‘But if it were, I have to wonder which way you’d choose, Joanna.’
Her throat dried and her voice came out a bit cracked. ‘That isn’t fair. And it certainly isn’t the time or place for this conversation.’
‘You brought it up.’
She licked her lips. ‘Be sure I won’t make the same mistake again.’ She moved purposefully towards the door. ‘Now, are we going to speak to Mrs Wardell?’
‘You go.’ Matt’s mouth clamped. ‘You can’t miss her. She’s a tall, very striking blonde.’
So he’d noticed.
Ten minutes later, Joanna had her worse fears confirmed. Sasha’s mother—or Gerri, as she asked to be called—had seemed desperate to talk.
‘I haven’t known quite where to turn,’ she confessed. ‘I mean, you hear and read such dreadful things about teenage girls starving themselves…’
‘And you’re quite sure Sasha’s not getting her periods?’ Wanting to keep the interview informal, Joanna wasn’t taking notes, preferring to store the information away in her head.
‘Quite sure.’ Gerri nodded, twisting the large emerald ring on her middle finger. ‘Well, as a mother, you notice those kinds of things, don’t you?’
‘I can’t comment on that.’ Joanna gave a contained little smile. ‘I have a teenage son. What about Sasha’s father? Does she have a good relationship with him?’
The mother’s face looked suddenly pinched. ‘We’re divorced. He’s remarried. Lives in Sydney now. Sasha gets to see him only during school holidays.’ She looked down at her hands for a moment. ‘And it’s difficult for her—with the new wife and everything.’
So, lots going on for a young person to cope with. Joanna thought quickly, running through the classic signs of anorexia in her mind. ‘You understand, Mrs Wardell—Gerri—that if we’re going to treat Sasha, we’ll need to tread very carefully.’
‘You are going to treat my daughter, then?’ The mother’s relief was pa
lpable.
‘If you give us permission to.’
‘Oh, yes! Yes—please. My child needs help, Dr Winters. And another thing…’ Suddenly the information began tumbling out. ‘When I’ve been cleaning the bath lately, I’ve been finding handfuls of hair caught in the plughole. Could that be related to…?’ She stopped and swallowed.
‘Very probably,’ Joanna responded gently. ‘What about mood swings? I realise most adolescents have them, but are Sasha’s exaggerated would you say?’
Gerri’s gaze faltered before she nodded slowly. ‘I’ve been feeling an absolute failure as a parent…’ Her brown eyes suddenly filled. ‘Poor little Sasha…’
Joanna found Matt in one of the examination rooms.
‘Joanna.’ He acknowledged her presence with a curt nod. ‘Something I can do for you?’
‘I need to confer with you, please.’
‘Sure. This is Paul Camden, one of our ace young footballers.’ Matt replaced the modesty sheet over his patient’s abdomen. ‘Paul, this is Joanna Winters. She’s come to join our medical team.’
‘Hi.’ The young man sent a quick smile in Joanna’s direction. Then, lifting himself up on his elbows, he turned his gaze urgently on Matt. ‘So, what do you reckon, Doc?’
‘We’ll need to run a few tests to see what’s going on but I’m reasonably certain you have a hernia in your groin.’
‘Hell!’ The young athlete flopped back down onto the bed. ‘This is gonna put me right out of the finals, isn’t it?’
‘Afraid so.’ Matt parked himself on the edge of the couch. ‘I won’t beat about the bush with you. From what I’ve seen today, you’ll need a surgical repair.’
‘Ball-park figure, how long before I can train again?’
‘For soccer?’ Matt rubbed a hand across his chin. ‘Two to four months minimum.’
‘That’s what I figured.’ The young man looked glum. ‘Thanks anyway, Doc.’ He turned his face to the wall.
‘Hey, don’t start jumping the gun here.’ Matt pushed to his feet. ‘Let’s see what the herniography turns up. And then we’ll discuss your options. OK? Back in a minute.’