“I think I am almost up to 150 hours and still have to cover victim recovery, marine medic and search techniques.”
“Have you met Geoff’s wife, Chloe, yet? She is a very talented and interesting woman.”
“No, but we have a meeting there tonight.”
“So you aren’t staying for a meal?”
Mari interrupted.
“I am sorry, not tonight.”
Paul smiled but was met by a cold stare.
“I really need to start looking at furnishing the restaurant, why don’t you come up tomorrow? I could do with your help.”
To Paul’s relief, Mari’s face softened and she retreated quietly to the kitchen.
“You are learning fast,” Sid laughed.
“Survival technique.”
They both laughed.
The crew sat around the kitchen table discussing the month’s callouts, the boat’s maintenance and budgets. Paul was battling to focus. His attention was drifting to a distant voice that seemed to soar and dip become muffled and then become clear. He could not locate the source of the music and, although he searched the faces around him, no one else seemed to notice. Geoff looked over and saw Paul was straining to understand.
“That’s Chloe. She is singing solo at a wedding this weekend. She is down in the studio and must have left the door open. That is why her voice isn’t clearly audible.” He continued to explain; “the neighbours complained when we practiced as a band. We had to build a studio to deaden the sound. Go down and have a look if you want. Chloe won’t mind.”
Paul knocked and hesitated but there was no response. Cautiously, he stood in the open doorway. The room was located in the basement of the house accessed by a small flight of stairs. The walls were plastered and cloaked in a heavy acoustical mat. There were no windows or additional doors. Instruments, microphones and recording equipment were positioned around the exterior and in the centre there was a large table and several chairs.
A woman sat cross legged at the table, her long purple dress floated over her knees and on to the concrete floor. She acknowledged Paul with a smile but her long fingers continued to play the strings of her polished guitar and her lilting voice that had the clarity of crystal continued the haunting words of Scarborough Fair.
Paul stood fascinated by the inner peace that appeared to radiate from within the woman and surface on to the tranquil face. Chloe’s black hair was plaited in a thick rope that hung over her shoulder and reached almost to the floor. The first impression was of a slender woman in her twenties but there were fingers of age that formed thin cobwebs at the corners of her unusual slanted eyes.
The final few words floated across the room and she laid the guitar across her knees.
“Paul. I have been told a lot about you.”
“All good I hope.”
“Of course. Do you play the guitar?”
“I do, but not well. I learnt classical piano but am self-taught on guitar.”
“Don’t apologize for that.”
She handed the guitar across the table. Paul studied the instrument wondering if he could politely decline. He glanced up and saw that Chloe was watching him carefully her face remained a mask of serenity.
Paul played hesitantly at first and then with more confidence appreciating the quality instrument.
“You are good. I have watched students struggle for years to become half the musician you are.”
“You taught music?”
“Yes, full time before we moved to the island. Now I teach part time, sing when given the opportunity and enjoy doing both.” She smiled; “several of us practice here every few nights. You are most welcome to join us. I am sure I can offer you some guidance.”
Geoff walked into the room. He smiled warmly at his wife and put a protective arm on her shoulder.
“I should have guessed she would have you around her finger by now. You know it was Chloe that talked Sid into forming the amphitheatre on your property?”
Chloe smiled and looked at Paul steadily.
“And now that the restaurant is well underway I am sure I will be given the opportunity to play there.”
Chapter 26
“Sandy”
“I am not going into that tunnel!”
Sandy’s voice had risen to the edge of hysteria. Her face was screwed up and tears cascaded down her flushed cheeks.
Joanne felt nausea rising from the pit of her stomach. She watched the technician and doubt flooded over the young girls face.
“Sandy, the MRI is not painful and is non-invasive. It will provide us with a high resolution and detailed image so that we can detect changes. Think of it as a tube surrounded by a large circular magnet. All you need to do is lie on the bed and the machine will do the rest.”
The technician smiled but doubt still lingered in her eyes.
Joanne fought to control the urge to run out of the room. Even the biopsy had not created the terror that now reduced Sandy to the inconsolable and irrational stranger standing in the room enveloped in a hospital gown.
A stern senior nurse left and returned a few minutes later with a middle aged man that had the confident manner of a doctor. His face was impassive and he turned to face Joanne.
“You will not be able to stay here during this procedure. Perhaps you would like to wait in the next room and make yourself a cup of coffee. We won’t be long.”
He dismissed her and turned his attention to Sandy.
The coffee in front of Joanne sat going cold while she stared blindly at a magazine. Is this what it felt like to be totally helpless, a bystander unable to assist the people that you care about as their lives disintegrate and their fragile hold on sanity is severed?
She started as the doctor came out of the door. He glanced at Joanne but continued without decreasing his stride or acknowledging her. Sandy followed. She was dressed in her own clothing but it seemed to hang from her body. Her shoulders hunched forward and her eyes looked listless and hollow.
“They didn’t tell me about the noise, it was so loud. We have to go and see Doctor Martin tomorrow afternoon.”
Sandy was already walking towards the exit door as she spoke.
The following morning Joanne approached a grey counter covered in brochures outlining unemployment benefits, legal rights and obligations. A young disinterested girl was chewing gum behind the desk she looked up but continued chewing.
“Can I help you?”
“I would like information about sickness benefits and the benefits available to those that are functioning as caregivers.”
The girl reached up and removed several folded brochures. Joanne skimmed through the information and then cleared her throat to get the girls attention.
“From what I can understand if the sickness beneficiary is not an invalid there is no provision for the support person. Am I correct?”
The girl removed her gum and discarded it in the rubbish bin.
“Have you read the information already?”
She looked impressed.
“Yes I have. My friend has cancer; she is not an invalid but is undergoing treatment and is unemployed. I am supporting her emotionally, are either of us eligible for financial support?”
“Are you qualified to nurse her and does she require medical assistance?”
“No, I am not qualified to nurse her and the assistance she needs is psychological. Her cancer is preventing either of us from obtaining employment.”
“From what you have said she could apply for either of these.” She circled two paragraphs with a heavy black marker pen. “You would not be eligible for any benefits as a caregiver unless you are qualified to provide a service that is medically required.”
The girl emphasised the last word and looked up pointedly before continuing.
“If you are unable to find work yourself, you could apply for the unemployment benefit.”
Joanne scooped up the brochures and turned to face the sarcastic clerk.
“I would rather sleep under a bridge than ask this agency for help.”
On the walk back to the car she remembered her father’s words.
The receptionist looked up nervously as Sandy approached the counter.
“Doctor Martin will be with you in a minute. Please take a seat in the waiting room.”
The specialist called her name from the door. He stood back and allowed them to enter before following.
“How are you, Sandy?”
He obviously was not expecting her to answer and looked up sharply when she replied.
“How do you expect I am? You keep sending me for one examination after another, to one doctor after another. Can’t you organize all the tests in one place over a short period of time? If I had a job there would be no hope of me keeping it would there?”
Joanne glanced at Doctor Martin. His lips had pressed into a thin single line. She assumed he was making an effort to smile.
“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that Sandy. We have to run the tests to insure we have all the information we need to enable us to find the best treatment for you.”
He continued talking but his eyes were now focused on his notes.
“Sandy, we need to schedule you in for a partial mastectomy. I will perform the surgery and you will be in hospital for a few days. Generally around two but occasionally the stay is a little longer.”
He looked up and then continued.
“I would like to start treatment as soon as possible, prior to Christmas. Hospitals, like all businesses and services, tend to operate on skeleton staff at that time of the year.”
“Are there any questions either of you would like to ask?”
Sandy replied immediately.
“No, thank you.”
“I will schedule the surgery and send you the appointment details. Please make sure you read the information regarding anaesthetic and outlining the surgery itself.”
“The weather is good tomorrow. I would like to go fishing.”
“Do you want to talk about the surgery?”
“No. There is not any point in us talking about it. I have cancer and there is nothing we can do to change that. Once they have cut it out it has gone. I can then get on with my life and so can you.”
She smiled.
“I really feel positive about the surgery.”
“That’s good. Fishing tomorrow and then on Thursday I am going to look for employment.”
“You will be around when I go into hospital?”
A look of panic had passed over Sandy.
“Of course, I will. I am just going to look for something part time. I am unlikely to find anything in the legal field so perhaps I can find work locally as a waitress.”
“Several of the café’s on the main road have signs in their windows advertising for staff.”
“While I am doing that, you could fill out the application for your sickness benefit. I put the forms on the bench yesterday.”
“I saw them there. But I don’t think it is worth applying. Once this lump has been cut out I am going to go back to work.”
Wisps of white cloud made a steady procession across the cornflower blue sky. Joanne stretched over the wooden seat, her face upturned to soak in the comfort of the sun’s rays.
“I got the letter confirming surgery next week.”
Joanne readjusted her long legs and turned around to look at Sandy.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Doctor Martin organized that quickly.”
“I am telling you. It arrived in this morning’s mail while you were at the market. He has scheduled me to go into hospital next Wednesday.”
There was a moment of silence broken only by the gently lapping of water against the sides of the boat.
“Is there anything you need me to do before your appointment?”
Sandy looked up. Her eyes were calm and focused.
“Yes, I do need one thing. Promise if you do find employment tomorrow you will make sure you are not working on Wednesday.”
She then shrugged off the subject by adding “I think we should head in now.”
SECTION 5
Chapter 27
“Joanne, Paul and Simon”
It was late morning when Paul stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and walked to the kitchen to plug in the jug. They had started work early that morning in the vineyard and Sid had only just left the property.
The telephone rung and Paul turned down the stereo before picking it up.
“Chloe asked if you would like to come over to the studio this afternoon.”
“Aren’t you on duty?”
“Yes, but we can all go from here if there is a call out.”
“I will plan to be at your place at about three if that suits you. I still have a couple of things to do here.”
Paul put down the telephone and walked over to the breakfast bar. The surface was covered in bank statements and tax returns. He frowned at the neglected paperwork and turned his attention to the shimmering water of the bay.
“Jess do you want to go for a walk?”
It was three thirty by the time the small group had made their way down to the studio. Chloe was seated at the table concentrating on the strings of the guitar that was positioned in her lap. She looked up and greeted the men before turning to Paul.
“Your guitar was in desperate need of a tune.”
“I had tuned it.”
She looked up and smiled before handing the instrument over to him. He reached for the guitar at the same time as a chorus of pagers erupted around the room.
Geoff cursed and took the offending black square out of his pocket.
“Can you believe on a day like this someone would manage to get themselves into trouble?”
He looked apologetically at Chloe who responded with an understanding smile.
“Hopefully, we won’t be long. There are enough of us here to make up a crew.”
They had just boarded the boat when Geoff received the full details. He groaned.
“You won’t believe it. It’s that mad redhead that has interrupted our afternoon.”
“What is the vessel?”
Geoff laughed.
“Believe me, you will not be able to miss it!”
Paul studied the small boat as they pulled alongside. The mural had obviously been painted professionally and he wondered why anyone rational would commission something of that quality for the side of an old wooden boat.
Sitting in the front seat of the boat was an extraordinarily beautiful woman. She had long, honey coloured hair tied back simply with a thin black band. A lock had escaped and fell across a smoke coloured eye. The complexion on her high cheekbones was slightly pink from the sun. The angelic face was set and furious. From beneath impossibly thick lashes she glanced at Paul before refocusing angrily on the redheaded woman seated at the rear of the boat.
“Good afternoon, Miss Cunningham.”
Geoff spoke in the level patient voice he reserved for those he considered negligent.
“What can we do for you today?”
The blonde bristled and her eyes turned to steel.
“What the hell? Coastguard know your name?”
She glared at the redhead and spoke through gritted teeth.
“Miss Cunningham appears to have forgotten to fill her boat up with fuel.”
“Again,” added Geoff, “at least today we do not have to release her anchor from a cable.”
Paul listened to the exchange and suppressed a smile. He had no doubt Geoff was intending to further infuriate the elegant blonde.
Geoff continued.
“I assume after our last discussion you have purchased lifejackets and have put them on board?”
He then addressed Joanne. Her eyes remained focused on the irresponsible Sandy.
“I did explain to Miss Cunningham that it is not only a matter of safety but also a legal requirement. A buoyancy device must be readily available for every person
on board.”
Sandy smiled avoiding Joanne’s stare. She was far more interested in attracting the attention of the man seated next to the skipper.
“I have life jackets, they are in that bin up the front.” She pointed to the large chilly bin sitting in the cabin. Her eyes didn’t leave Paul when she spoke.
“I seem to have forgotten to fill up with fuel.”
Geoff sighed and looked towards the sky.
“I also recall that I suggested a few other items to make your boating a safer experience. Have you managed to look into those? Or enrol in the Day Skipper Course?”
Paul raised his eyes; the predatory redhead latched on to him with an expression that devoured, she postured and flicked her hair. There was a slight murmur from behind and the crew lost their composure.
Geoff turned his attention to Joanne.
“There is a list of suggested safety equipment on the Coastguard website. I also suggested to Miss Cunningham that she enrol in a Day Skipper Course. It would give her some basic boating skills that would help keep both of you safe.”
Joanne didn’t respond, she was furious with Sandy and also with herself. How had she overlooked basic safety or the need for education before going out on the water? She glanced at the crew. The skipper regarded her sternly, the crew muffled their amusement with their open hands and the man seated next to the skipper looked down, she suspected he was uncomfortable under Sandy’s hungry stare. He was an incredibly handsome man. His shoulders were broad, his arms sinewy and although he was not standing she could see he was tall and athletic. There was a calm and capable mannerism underneath his rugged good looks. He looked up and she felt a tidal wave of unfamiliar emotions. His eyes were cobalt blue. Joanne felt heat rushing to her cheeks and looked away uncomfortably.
“Paul can you go across and fuel them up. You will need to prime the outboards to get them underway.”
Geoff continued speaking his voice loud enough to carry to the amused crew.
“Like a lamb to the slaughter.”
A slow smile spread across Geoff’s face. Paul shook his head and stepped into the small interior of the Lucky Lady. The confined space made it difficult to manoeuvre away from Sandy. She had positioned herself close to the tiny tank and plastic squeeze pump. Paul worked silently. He disliked the redhead’s attention and was careful to avert his eyes and avoid any physical contact with her.
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