‘Sure is. That’s why I always do a jubilee cake, it’s almost foolproof. Oh and don’t hold back,’ Ethel added enthusiastically. ‘Nobody wants to be seen leaving with anything except an empty plate.’
Jacqueline liked the sound of that. She decided she would start with a couple of chicken, mayonnaise and alfalfa ribbon sandwiches followed by a mini quiche, then a sliver of mud cake, possibly some rum balls and definitely a brandy snap or two, her ultimate favourite dessert. Just as she reached for a plate, a trim seventy-something, fully made-up lady in long, flowing delicate rose print with silver-white hair fashionably cropped, stepped forward and caught her attention.
‘Ms Havelock, I’m Nancy Squire,’ the woman said, struggling to balance her cup and saucer and sandwich plate in her left hand before extending her right.
Jacqueline returned the gesture and said warmly, ‘Mrs Squire, how wonderful to finally meet you.’
‘Nancy. Please, call me Nancy. I just wanted to meet you before tomorrow night so it wouldn’t be so awkward. Now, John did tell you that we are coming, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, he did,’ Jacqueline lied. She wasn’t about to tell this obviously very pleasant lady that her husband hadn’t had the manners, or possibly the guts for that matter, to reply in person, instead sending Louise down the hall to tell her. ‘Oh and thank you so much for the lovely basket of things for my arrival. I’m sorry I didn’t call personally …’
‘Not at all, John passed on your thanks. Now, tell me, what can we bring?’
‘Nothing, just yourselves,’ Jacqueline said brightly.
‘Oh. If you’re sure?’ Nancy said, sounding a little taken aback. Then she patted Jacqueline’s arm and said, ‘I’ll leave you to your other admirers, dear. It seems a queue is forming.’
Jacqueline turned to follow Nancy’s gaze, and blushed slightly as she realised Nancy was right. A sizeable queue was forming and the next woman in line was definitely looking like she was waiting to speak to Jacqueline.
‘By the way, I thought you were wonderful,’ Nancy said as she wandered off.
‘Thank you,’ Jacqueline called after her. She shot the table of delectable morsels a longing glance and reluctantly turned back to greet the next woman in line. It’s like being royalty, she thought.
A number of the women wanted to give their heartfelt thanks for her talk and more still wanted her to give a brief consult. Becoming frustrated at using every variation of ‘Come and see me at the office where we can have a decent chat’, Jacqueline was beginning to despair when Ethel appeared at her side.
‘Sorry ladies, but I had better get Ms Havelock back to her office. She’s very busy, you know.’
There were mumbles of ‘Oh sorry’, ‘Of course’ and ‘Sorry to keep you’, as Jacqueline was led away from the table of food she’d been prevented from attacking.
‘We’ll just pop out the back way through the kitchen, so you won’t be mobbed,’ Ethel said.
‘Very funny,’ Jacqueline said, devoid of enthusiasm and suddenly feeling very hungry.
‘This is for you,’ Ethel said, grabbing a dinner plate piled high with food from the bench as they passed.
Jacqueline knew her eyes were lit up like a kid’s in a candy store but didn’t care. ‘Oh Ethel, you’re the best,’ she said as she selected a brandy snap from the top.
‘Didn’t want you to miss out on one of the highlights of country living. I think I managed a reasonable sample,’ Ethel added, smiling cheekily.
On Thursday morning Jacqueline’s office phone rang almost non-stop with women calling to make an appointment. Others rang to invite her to attend meetings of other community groups because they felt a fresh speaker was just what they needed. And there were more still who simply wanted her to ‘drop in any time for a cuppa’.
While Jacqueline thought it sweet that so many homes were open to her, she was also wary of being expected to give private consultations free of charge. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be generous with her time and expertise, she just felt the need to keep things purely professional.
Anyway, what would Doctor Squire say if he heard she was sitting around people’s kitchen tables handing out free advice like a clairvoyant? And to drop in on someone, open invitation or otherwise, was not something she was comfortable with. During her childhood, everyone was most welcome to visit her parents’ home, but no one ever did without first calling to check that the timing was convenient.
If she did drop in on someone, what was she expected to take? Obviously a box of shop-bought shortbread, whether it be an expensive imported variety or otherwise, would certainly be out of the question. And there was no way her baking attempts would pass muster, given the previous day’s display of collective culinary prowess.
Her afternoon consisted of a run of walk-in consults that kept Jacqueline busy until just after five. While she was pleased at the sudden rise in business stemming from her CWA address, with many of them showing potential as long-termers, she couldn’t help being concerned at the number of generally unhappy women in such a small district.
Recent statistics suggested young country males were more vulnerable when it came to depression and suicide. She’d assumed with all these community groups exclusively for women that their emotional states would be less fragile. It seemed she’d been wrong.
So perhaps it really is embroidery and cooking they sit around talking about, Jacqueline mused. She’d been led to believe being part of a close-knit community was what eased the loneliness of living in rural Australia.
The other interesting, and more saddening, thing was that it appeared most of these women were married to men who were reluctant, or flatly refused, to get into a discussion about anything that was remotely emotional or sensitive. Further, it seemed the district was divided in two – the men were in the pub bonding until the wee hours while the women were at home alone brooding and breeding.
And so many of her new clients had been looking about nervously to see who was noting their arrival and then, in rather loud voices, asking her to attend this meeting or that while the door was still open. Of course, few were willing to admit having a problem. Some were just there for a chat and to meet her since they’d missed out the day before. Thank goodness for bulk billing, Jacqueline thought, a wry smile clouding her face.
But regardless of what excuses they gave, the fact was these women were there and that was all that mattered. What would be interesting to see was how many made repeat visits and, more importantly, how many really opened up to her.
‘And to think I took country life to be the simple life,’ Jacqueline said.
She began to doodle aimlessly on her notepad, deep in thought. Mm, if only I could get men and women in here together, she thought, but instantly conceded that given the observations she’d already made, that was about as achievable as men having babies.
After finishing writing up her notes on the last patient for the day and recording general observations, Jacqueline arrived home at six, giving her just enough time to get changed and mentally prepare for what was sure to be an interesting evening, if nothing else. Luckily she had been unable to face dinner the night before, thanks to the CWA delights Ethel had managed to secure, and so instead had prepared the savoury pie and apple crumble for tonight’s dinner. Otherwise she’d be running late.
After resisting the urge to open a bottle of wine to ease the exhaustion of an unusually taxing day, Jacqueline made a hot chocolate to accompany her while wandering about tidying the house. At precisely six-fifty there was a knock on the door and Jacqueline opened it to find Ethel clutching a bottle of champagne and a packet of after-dinner mints.
‘Oh, how lovely, thank you, Ethel. Please come in,’ she said, accepting the gifts and giving the old lady a peck on the cheek before standing aside to let her in.
‘Can I help you do anything, dear?’ Ethel asked, glancing around the lounge room.
‘No, everything’s under control, thanks. In fact, I think I�
��ll sit down myself. Please, make yourself at home. Oh, and help yourself,’ Jacqueline added, indicating the platter of dips, cheeses, crackers and vegetable garnishes on the glass-topped coffee table.
‘I hear you were very busy today,’ Ethel said, reaching forward to cut a wedge of camembert.
‘Nothing’s secret around here,’ Jacqueline said, laughing. ‘Almost run off my feet, actually,’ she added.
‘That’s great.’
‘Yes,’ Jacqueline said, and was just about to tell Ethel of her general observations when there was another knock on the door. She checked her watch. ‘Right on time,’ she whispered, winking at Ethel as she stood up.
After smoothing her simple black damask print dress, Jacqueline swallowed, took a deep breath, forced a beaming smile onto her face, and opened the door. She was relieved to find Nancy standing slightly ahead of her husband.
‘Nancy, how lovely to see you,’ she said, leaning forward to lightly brush Nancy’s cheek with a kiss. The doctor’s wife wore a crepe suit in a bold shade somewhere between royal blue and indigo. ‘What a gorgeous colour,’ Jacqueline exclaimed. ‘I just love anything purple.’
‘Thank you,’ Nancy said, dipping her head as if a little embarrassed. ‘And thank you very much for the invitation,’ she added, as she moved into the house.
Over Nancy’s shoulder Jacqueline was sure she detected a roll of the eyes from Doctor Squire. Offering her hand to Doctor Squire to shake, Jacqueline faked a smile and said, through almost clenched teeth, ‘Doctor, how good of you to come.’
‘A dinner invitation is not going to make me forget our little talk earlier this week. I don’t measure professional performance in terms of social grace,’ he muttered, thrusting a bottle of red wine into her chest.
Jacqueline’s eyes grew round, her eyebrows shot up above her sweet, welcoming expression, and her mouth sagged as Doctor John Squire stepped past her into the house. She desperately wanted to give him a piece of her mind and remind him that given his scolding of her the other day he clearly did link one’s professional performance to their social graces, or lack thereof. Instead she gritted her teeth, carefully pushed the door closed and, while her back was turned to her guests, resurrected her winning smile.
‘I thought it might be nice to start with a drink and a nibble in here,’ Jacqueline said, addressing her guests. She was pleased when Nancy made herself comfortable on the nearest sofa and began helping herself to the cheese platter.
‘What can I get everyone to drink? There’s champagne, beer, and what looks like a lovely bottle of red wine,’ she added, beaming at Doctor Squire.
‘Champagne for me, thank you,’ Ethel said.
‘And me, thank you,’ Nancy said.
‘Fine for me too,’ Doctor Squire grumbled.
‘Great, easily done,’ Jacqueline said, retrieving Ethel’s bottle from the mantel and undoing the foil covering the cork.
At the sound of the cork popping, the women cheered, led loudly by Ethel. Jacqueline filled the glasses she had lined up on the mantel and handed them around to murmurs of thanks.
‘So far so good,’ Ethel whispered as she accepted hers.
While the ladies sat and giggled over their champagne bubbles and devoured the cheese platter, Doctor Squire stood off to one side sipping his drink and looking decidedly uncomfortable.
‘Please, Doctor, have a seat,’ Jacqueline said, indicating a sofa.
‘Oh, call him John. You’re not at work now,’ Nancy said.
Out the corner of her eye, Jacqueline noticed the doctor scowl and wondered if it were just her he hated or socialising in general. Regardless, she wished he’d lighten up.
At seven-thirty sharp, Jacqueline grabbed the bottle of red wine from the mantel and asked everyone to follow her through to the kitchen and be seated.
After placing a large white ceramic bowl of garden salad on the table and then the steaming golden pie, she said, ‘Now I hope you all like beef and burgundy pie. Homemade, of course,’ she added in a proud tone. She lifted a generous slice and placed it carefully on the top plate on the stack in front of her.
‘Wow, this looks great, and smells even better,’ Ethel said enthusiastically, breathing in deeply.
‘Yes, wonderful,’ Nancy agreed. ‘And it’s one of John’s favourites. Isn’t it, dear?’
‘Mm,’ Doctor Squire mumbled. Jacqueline was sure she detected another scowl. Was it his wife he was scowling at?
‘Doctor, would you please do the honours with the wine?’ she asked, smiling sweetly as she passed him the bottle.
‘Gladly,’ he replied. Did she detect him lightening up?
Finally everyone was served with a glass of wine and a plate loaded with pie and salad. Just as Jacqueline was about to pick up her cutlery, Ethel spoke.
‘I think we need to make a little toast,’ she said, then cleared her throat quietly before continuing. ‘I just want to officially welcome Jacqueline to our humble little town and tell her I think she’s just what we need.’
‘Yes, hear, hear. Cheers,’ Nancy said enthusiastically, and clapped her hands.
‘Um … yes, cheers,’ Doctor Squire added, looking a little embarrassed.
‘Well, thank you very much. From what I’ve seen, I’m going to enjoy the next twelve months very much,’ Jacqueline replied, blushing slightly.
‘Oh, by then you won’t want to leave,’ Nancy said offhandedly as she pulled apart her warm dinner roll.
Before long everyone was engrossed in their meal and the only sounds were those of cutlery scraping on crockery, glasses being refilled, and someone asking for something to be passed.
‘Now, John,’ Nancy said suddenly, while Jacqueline was putting the dessert in the oven to warm. ‘I haven’t had a chance to tell you what a hit Jacqueline was yesterday at CWA.’
‘Really?’ he replied. From the kitchen, Jacqueline was unable to detect the tone.
‘Oh yes, everyone loved her,’ Nancy cooed. ‘They’ll be queuing up to see her soon.’
‘Actually, it’s started already,’ Ethel said, joining in. ‘You had a very busy day today, didn’t you, dear?’ she called to Jacqueline’s back.
‘I did,’ Jacqueline said, returning to the table.
‘Well that deserves another toast,’ Nancy said, and began refilling the glasses. ‘Here’s to drumming up business and solving the problems of Wattle Creek.
Jacqueline suspected Nancy was becoming a little tipsy, and was pleased she felt comfortable enough to let her hair down. Now, that husband of hers was a different matter, she mused.
‘So Doctor, how was your day?’ Jacqueline asked, trying to include him.
‘Oh, the usual,’ he said.
‘Oh come on,’ Nancy scolded, suddenly serious. ‘Tell them about the young lad whose hand you saved. Now that’s exciting.’
‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ Doctor Squire said, shifting in his chair and becoming visibly more relaxed.
‘Come on, tell us about it, John,’ Ethel urged.
‘Well, I suppose everyone will know soon enough.’
Jacqueline was fascinated by Doctor Squire’s story of how he’d managed to sew three partially severed fingers back onto a young farmer’s hand after he’d got it stuck in an auger while cleaning out the last few grains.
‘Stupid unnecessary risks, these farmers keep taking. I’m continually patching them up for injuries received in totally preventable accidents,’ he said, clearly exasperated.
Everyone else stayed silent as he paused to take a sip of his wine.
‘I’m sorry, it’s just that it can be so testing at times. I’m not a specialist surgeon, but I’m forever having to take things into my own hands because we’re so isolated and the air ambulance often isn’t available or the weather is too inclement. And when you’re faced with the results of your work every day for the rest of your life it can be quite daunting.’
‘Hm, I see what you mean,’ Jacqueline said thoughtfully. ‘I’ve heard and rea
d about farms being some of the most dangerous Australian workplaces.’
‘Unfortunately the statistics are telling the truth there,’ Doctor Squire added, smiling weakly. ‘If it’s not losing fingers it’s acid burns, steel fragments in eyes, welding flashes, falls from the tops of field bins, chemical poisoning.’
‘Wow, I had no idea,’ Jacqueline said.
‘And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, I’m afraid. No doubt about it, my life would certainly be a lot easier if they would look before they leapt,’ he added with a deep sigh.
‘Well I think they’re very lucky to have you,’ Jacqueline said, smiling at him warmly. Suddenly she could see what a lot of pressure the doctor was under daily.
‘Hear, hear,’ Ethel said, raising her glass.
‘Yes, hear, hear,’ Nancy said.
‘To Doctor Squire,’ Jacqueline said, raising her own glass.
‘To John,’ Ethel and Nancy said in unison.
‘Thank you,’ Doctor Squire murmured, clearly a little taken aback and embarrassed at all the attention.
As Jacqueline placed bowls and the jug of cream on the table she wondered if there was some way her expertise could be used to help make farms safer. If she could get farmers to listen to their inner selves more – tune into those warning bells that inevitably ring. Perhaps …
But the electronic screeching of the oven timer interrupted her thoughts. Realising the wine bottle was empty, she asked Ethel to get the dessert wine from the top of her meagre supply stacked in the lounge, then excused herself to retrieve the apple crumble.
Serving the steaming dessert and adding generous dollops of cream and passing around bowls, Jacqueline suddenly realised Doctor Squire had continued speaking.
‘Of course the upside of it is the variety of ailments country doctors get to deal with,’ he said. ‘I can’t understand why city graduates aren’t flocking here to gain valuable hands-on experience rather than being stuck in one hospital department for months doing repetitive procedures like cutting out melanomas.’
‘Quite,’ Jacqueline said, feeling a reply was expected.
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