Doctor on Loan

by Marion Lennox

  ‘He’s independent,’ Hugo told her, as if reading her thoughts, and her eyes flashed.

  ‘Independent. How can he be independent if he’s in his seventies and knows absolutely no one? How can he be? Though the way you’re talking he’ll be less alone here than he is in Brisbane. Where’s your brother, did you say? In the Bahamas? And you’ll be in New York, presenting some very important paper at a very important conference, I’ll bet, so you can end up as Professor Tallent—while back here I pick up the pieces of your responsibilities. Good old Christie. She’ll do it!’

  He didn’t say a word. He stood still in the darkness, looking down at her with an expression that was unreadable.

  And Christie? She was so angry she was shaking, and she didn’t truly understand why. This was just one lonely old man they were talking about and, heaven knew, she had enough lonely old men on her island. One more would make little difference, she knew.

  Hugo must go. She’d known he would. So why…?

  ‘Christie…’ He seemed unsure of himself, she thought. Conscience, maybe?

  Good. He deserved it. Toad!

  ‘I need to go home,’ she said bitterly into the wind. ‘Now.’

  ‘Christie, wait.’ He put a hand on her arm but she wrenched it away.

  ‘Leave it, Hugo. You’ve got your way. Of course I’ll look after your father. You know that. When have I not done everything that was expected of me on this damned island?’ She gave herself an angry mental shake and made her voice soften. ‘Oh, of course I will, and you don’t need to pay by organising my lawns to be mowed either.’

  ‘It’s the least I can do,’ he said softly. ‘And if my plans work out—’

  ‘Don’t tell me. You’ll up-end your father and re-root him in Manhattan while you take the chair of anaesthetics at America’s top university. Or something similar.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And I’ll be still here, wishing you well. But for tonight…Let it be, Hugo. I need to go to bed.’

  ‘With me?’

  He said it so simply that for a moment she thought she must have misheard. Her breath snagged in her throat, and her heart skipped a beat. Or six.

  ‘What?’

  ‘No!’ He’d caught himself and he looked as startled as she had—as if the words had slipped out, unintended. He gave a rueful smile that had as much weariness in it as hers. ‘I’m sorry. It’s too soon. Too…crazy. Let me sort myself out, Christie Flemming, and then we’ll see where things go. But for tonight…You’re right. We need to go to bed. Alone!’

  She didn’t sleep. How could she? All night Christie tossed and turned, and at dawn she rose feeling like she hadn’t been to bed at all.

  Needs must. Wednesday was her busiest day of the week, the day she spent on the other side of the island at the Koori settlement. It was a mere few miles but it might as well have been in a different country. The Kooris kept themselves to themselves in quiet dignity, but they represented almost half her patient population. Because they couldn’t—or wouldn’t—travel, she only had one day a week to devote to them.

  So it was Wednesday, she thought drearily as she got out of bed. Wednesday, here goes.

  But—apparently—she wouldn’t be doing it alone.

  Hugo was waiting for her. He rose as she entered the silent kitchen and she almost jumped a foot at the sight of him.

  ‘H-Hugo.’

  ‘I’m not a ghost,’ he told her with a weary smile. ‘Though I feel ghost-like. Did you get as much sleep as me?’

  ‘I have no idea how much sleep you had,’ she said crossly, and he grinned.

  ‘Yep. By the sound of your voice and your lovely sunny temper, I can see you had the same. That’s what happens when we sleep one room apart. I lay in the dark and wondered if I could hear your heartbeat.’

  Which pretty much summed up what she’d been doing through the night, she thought, but she’d die rather than admit it. This man was a serious flirt.

  Two more days and he’d be gone, she told herself. Two more sleeps…Two more nights of listening for heartbeats…

  She had to go—now!

  ‘Toast?’ he said, and pulled open the fire door. ‘I’m getting really good at this.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Christie said shortly. ‘I don’t need breakfast.’

  ‘Yes, we do,’ he told her. ‘Ray tells me we have a huge day ahead of us. I’m having breakfast if you’re not, so you might as well eat while you wait.’

  ‘We?’ She stared. ‘We?’

  ‘Don’t you want me to come with you?’ Hugo demanded, loading his toasting fork.

  ‘No. Yes. There’s no room in the truck,’ she said desperately. ‘Mary-anne—’

  ‘Mary-anne’s not coming. I talked to her yesterday and asked if I could take her place. She’s promised to keep an eye out for your grandpa, like Louise normally does on Wednesdays, and Louise is taking the day off. So, there you have it. Instead of a nurse, today you have me. I can stick on a bandage and load a syringe with the best of them, so if it’s OK with you, Doctor…’

  ‘Does what’s OK with me have the least bearing on what you intend to do?’ she snapped, and he turned from his toasting fork and smiled. It was the smile she was starting to dread.

  It started off as the slightest creasing of his eyes and then the brown depths grew warmer and warmer and his eyes locked onto hers—and it was like making love all by itself. It took her breath away and more. It stranded her like a fish out of water but, unfishlike, she felt like she was drowning.

  ‘You have no idea,’ he said softly, his smile holding and locking her to him. ‘You have no idea, Christie Flemming, just how you’re affecting what I intend to do. And I’m dead scared to tell you, because I might be wishing for the moon!’

  They drove to the settlement in silence. Christie could think of nothing to say—she couldn’t even begin to think of what he’d meant by his enigmatic comments and, bluntly, she was afraid to try.

  Hugo, on the other hand, seemed content to sit in silence, and he let his thoughts wander where they willed. He watched the landscape unfold around him. In the dawn light the island was indeed beautiful. As they left the township, the land grew progressively more and more rugged, and the tropical foliage more and more untamed.

  This island must once have been under water, he thought. There were inland cliffs, vast ridges of rock reaching for the sky, and the palm-lined track they were on was littered with ancient shells. It was interesting to think about—to force his mind from the girl beside him…

  He couldn’t let himself think along these lines just yet!

  Finally they reached the northernmost tip of the island. Christie pulled to a halt in front of a jagged rockface and turned to her passenger. The silence was finally broken.

  ‘Here we are. House call number one. Coming?’

  ‘House call…’ He looked around in amazement for something that could possibly be a house. Nothing!

  ‘Mabs Wasjarra lives here,’ Christie said simply, climbing out and retrieving her bag. ‘She has cancer—bone metastasis—and she’s bedridden.’

  ‘There’s no house,’ Hugo said cautiously, and Christie smiled.

  ‘Depends what you call a house. Are you coming or not? You’ll need your stick.’

  He was very glad of his stick. Christie left the car and headed straight for the rockface. Hugo was left to follow as he wished.

  He wished. He wasn’t being left behind for quids, but by the time he’d climbed the jagged rocks where Christie led, his leg was aching and he was short of breath from the effort.

  ‘This one’s our hardest house call,’ she said, taking pity on him. ‘Mabs refuses to leave. Up here, she can see the world.’

  She could at that. From where he stood, Hugo could see the entire island. Far away in the distance the township was waking. Tiny plumes of smoke were wisping from chimneys of far away cottages, and he could see a couple of boats moving from their moorings in the harbour.

  The wind was still keening
around the island. It was still too rough for boats to face the open sea but the wind was dying, and tomorrow the fishing fleet would be out again. Today they looked as if they were revving their engines in readiness.

  Not here. There wasn’t an engine in earshot. There was nothing at all! But Christie was stooping, crouching beneath a ledge and motioning him to follow.

  ‘Mabs?’ she called. ‘It’s Doc Christie. Can I come in? I’ve brought another doctor with me—a man. Do you mind if he comes in, too?’

  It was a cave, Hugo thought with incredulity as Christie disappeared under solid rock. The old lady lived in a cave! He stood, stunned, until he heard Christie’s voice echoing out from within.

  ‘Mabs says you’re very welcome,’ Christie called as he stared in amazement at the crevice into which she’d disappeared. ‘Come on in, Hugo, but watch your head.’

  Watch his head! He had to watch more than that. He had to get down and crawl, which did his bad knee no good at all.

  He hardly noticed the discomfort. The whole scenario had him fascinated. This was like no house call he’d ever done.

  Once in, it took several minutes to adjust his sight to the gloom. The cave opened up—thankfully—to a chamber as big as a small room. And as high. Here he could stand, and if he was careful he could do it without hitting his head.

  The only light was from the entrance but, once the eyes were accustomed, it was enough. The old lady was in a makeshift bed in the corner of the cave. She was an ancient Koori woman, withered and tiny, and Christie was already stooping over her and taking her hand.

  ‘Mabs, this is Dr Tallent,’ she said, gesturing back at Hugo. ‘He’s from Brisbane.’

  ‘He’s the fella that darn near drowned,’ Mabs whispered in a frail thread of a voice, looking him over from head to toe. ‘I hear the spirits nearly got him.’

  ‘They did at that,’ Hugo agreed. ‘If it hadn’t been for one very brave lad, they would have.’

  ‘Eh. Young Ben. I heard. He’s a good kid. Comes up here sometimes, but never causes trouble like he does in town. Worries and worries about his ma. I hear you’ve fixed that a bit, too.’

  She winced and moved painfully in her bed, which, now Hugo’s eyes had adjusted to the gloom, he saw was a vast mound of furs. ‘You oughtn’t be afraid of the spirits, though, young fella,’ she told him. ‘They’re coming for me soon enough and I’m not afraid. It’s my time, I guess. Eh, Christie?’

  Christie smiled. ‘Not for a bit yet.’

  ‘More’s the pity.’ Mabs winced again. Christie asked her a question with her eyes and then lifted the furs away from her body. Mabs was naked beneath, her body creased and leathery, almost parchment-like.

  ‘You’ve taken the dressings from the ulcers,’ Christie said softly, looking down at her legs. ‘You promised me you’d leave them on.’

  ‘Didn’t feel right,’ Mabs told her. ‘Damn things hurt.’

  ‘They won’t heal if you don’t look after them. I asked Cara to change the dressings every day and I left her what she needed to do it. Didn’t she do that?’

  ‘She wanted to.’ Mabs snorted. ‘Did it once and I thought she’d puke. Told her not to do it again.’

  ‘Cara is Mabs’s daughter,’ Christie explained to Hugo. She sighed. ‘Will you let Dr Tallent take a look?’

  ‘He can have all the looks he wants.’

  ‘Will you roll over for me?’ Christie asked her gently as Hugo squatted beside her. ‘Let me help you. I want Dr Tallent to see your hip.’

  And he saw. Good grief! Any Brisbane patient would have been in an acute hospital with these ulcers, Hugo thought grimly. She had massive ulcers on her legs, and the pressure points on her hips were fast turning to bedsores.

  They must be hurting so badly! And Christie said she had bone metastasis to boot. Bone cancer meant pain! He gazed down at the withered, stoic face and could only wonder at the calmness that looked back at him.

  ‘I’m falling to bits,’ she said cheerfully enough. ‘Told you.’

  ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘Who, me?’ She cackled with laughter. ‘As alone as I want to be. Why do you think I’m up here? I wanted to be away from them. But, no, I’m not alone. They’re here all the time. If it’s not one daughter, it’s another, or any one of my grandkids. Twenty grandkids I have last time I counted. I lived down there with them on the estuary but when me legs got bad the sand troubled them. Got into the sores and made’em worse. The pain was real bad so I came up here into the rocks to die.’

  She shrugged. ‘And it’s a grand place. Christie here gives me tablets that make the pain bearable and I haul meself out on the ledge when the sun comes up. I can just look and look. It’s all I want to do now.’

  ‘And your family bring you food?’ Hugo asked, looking around in wonderment. The cave was clean and smelt sweet enough. Obviously whatever sanitary arrangements she made were working well. There was a fireplace by the entrance, with a couple of pots at the ready. The fire was a heap of glowing embers, there was a pile of firewood and a full billy lay nearby, ready to boil. She was being looked after.

  ‘The kids do a real good job,’ Mabs told him. Christie had started attending to the worst of the ulcers, carefully cleaning the edges. It must be hurting, but she didn’t flinch. ‘I’m lucky.’

  Lucky! Hugo looked down at her face and he saw that she meant exactly what she was saying. She was in one of the roughest places in the world, suffering from an incurable disease. She had nothing but her campfire and her skins and a roof over her head, and she thought herself lucky!

  He thought of some of his patients back in Brisbane—people who thought they were hard done by because they couldn’t afford the latest model Mercedes—and his face twisted into a rueful smile.

  But those legs…‘Will you come into hospital for a bit?’ he asked her. He stooped and held her leg to examine one of the ulcers gently. It was deep and nasty—any worse and she risked losing the leg. But maybe the cancer was threatening that anyway. He glanced up at Christie and she gave an imperceptible shake of her head. No use trying, her look said.

  And Mabs told him just that. She snorted. ‘Hospital? Huh!’

  ‘She won’t come,’ Christie told him. ‘You think I haven’t tried?’

  ‘We did it once,’ Mabs told him. ‘Came to what you lot call civilisation. We lived on the outskirts of the city, and we saw what it did to the kids. So we upped and brought everyone here. Now we keep to ourselves, thank you very much. I’ll die here with my people, and if I have to die a month or so sooner because of it then that’s the way I want it.’

  ‘And that’s the way it’ll be,’ Christie said softly. She was placing ointment on the largest ulcer and wrapping it. ‘But the dressing stays on, Mabs. I’m sending Mary-anne out tomorrow and she’ll check you every day this week. She’ll ask Cara to help, and by the end of the week Cara won’t even flinch.’

  ‘I don’t need—’

  ‘I need,’ Christie told her. ‘If you don’t wear the dressings, I’ll feel bad as a doctor. Let me do this for you, Mabs. Let me hold the spirits at bay for a short while longer. So you can lie in the sun and look all you like. Please?’

  The old lady looked at her for a long moment, and Christie gazed calmly back. Strength meeting strength. It went on and on, and neither flinched.

  And finally the old lady conceded. She gave a hint of a smile and sighed.

  ‘You’re a good girl—for a white.’

  ‘And you’re a tough old lady—for a black.’ Christie grinned down at her, knowing she’d won. ‘You’ll do it?’

  ‘Yes, all right.’ She sighed. ‘I guess I wouldn’t mind the sun on my face a while longer. Tell Cara I said it’s OK.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’ Christie gave a brief, enquiring glance at Hugo. He nodded and then together they worked on each of the ulcers.

  It was very different work—amazingly different from the work Hugo was accustomed to. They worked by the light of a lantern Chri
stie set up beside them but, even so, it was a makeshift job. The woman needed skin grafts, not bandages. She needed morphine infusion and constant turning—maybe even a dose of radiation therapy would help. But they could only do what she permitted.

  Finished, finally, Christie rose and packed her bag. As she did, there was a scrabbling sound from the rocks below and a small face appeared in the doorway. A child of about nine or ten greeted them with a cheeky grin and held up a billycan.

  ‘Ma says here’s breakfast. She’s coming later but it’s fish, Gran. Ma says it’s best cooked straight away so I’m gonna cook it for you now. Dad speared it this morning and I nearly got one, too.’

  ‘Oh, well done.’ Christie smiled her welcome and moved aside so the boy could come in. As he passed she took his chin in her palm and turned him to face her. ‘And then come back to the huts, Davey. I want to put antibiotic in those eyes. You’ve been rubbing them again.’

  ‘Aw, Doc…’

  ‘You want to be blind like Uncle Arrantha?’

  ‘Nah, but—’

  ‘Then come. That’s an order.’ She smiled her farewell. ‘Ready, Hugo?’

  But he wasn’t quite. He stood, looking down at the lady on the skins. Those abscesses were never going to heal the way she was lying. The pressure sores would be getting worse by the minute, and he could only imagine the pain from the bone cancer. She needed a mattress.

  A mattress wouldn’t work here, though. If it rained, the water would creep in. Skins would dry, or could be changed, but a mattress would soak up the water and would be foul in a week.

  ‘What about an airbed?’ he asked suddenly.

  ‘An airbed?’ Christie paused.

  ‘Mmm. I think it might work well.’ He stooped again in front of Mabs. ‘Mabs, you can’t tell me those sores don’t hurt, even with Christie’s tablets. You’re sleeping on furs but the furs are on hard rock. What if we found you a mattress that’s full of air? You could pile your furs on top and it’d keep the pressure off the sores.’