Where There Is Smoke

by Elisabeth Rose

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a very common name there.’

  ‘He’s been here forever.’

  Krista pushed open the door and held it for Oliver. The waiting room was empty but a sharp-featured woman of indeterminate age, with bright red lipstick and a crisp white blouse, sat behind the reception desk under a pile of fifties-style teased blonde hair.

  ‘Morning, Penny.’

  ‘Good grief, Oliver, what have you been doing?’ she cried. ‘Di said you’d been fighting.’

  She came out from behind the desk all fussing and clucking in a swirl of floral-print blue skirt, fifties-style. ‘Sit down, the doctor will be with you in a jiffy.’ She guided him to a chair and Oliver subsided into it with a grunt. Lola sat beside his feet, panting.

  Penny gave Lola a frowning look but retreated behind the desk.

  ‘It’s too hot to leave her in the car,’ said Oliver with a touch of authority.

  ‘Of course.’ She swung her attention to Krista but with far less sympathy, eyeing the filthy jeans, dirt-and-soot-smudged top and yellow sneakers. ‘You’ve been in the wars too.’ It sounded disapproving applied to her. ‘I’ll need you to fill out this form, please.’ She held out a clipboard with a paper and pen attached.

  ‘I don’t need to see the doctor,’ Krista said.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Penny frowned at such wilful disobedience.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘Maybe you should get him to look at your ankle,’ said Oliver.

  ‘It’ll be fine. I’ll ice it later.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ said Penny with a disapproving sniff. ‘But Doc Jensen is a very good doctor. Every bit as good as your city ones.’

  ‘I’m sure he is.’ Krista sat beside Oliver. ‘I don’t need to waste his time, that’s all. Oliver needs his attention, not me.’

  ‘We never see The Grange people.’ She fired the comment into the silence.

  Oliver shifted beside Krista. ‘Maybe they don’t get sick,’ he said.

  ‘I meant in town,’ snapped Penny. ‘So what happened to you out there?’

  ‘We had a bit of trouble with a couple of blokes.’

  ‘Not surprising at that place. What on earth were you doing there so early, Oliver?’

  ‘That’s none of your business, is it?’ Krista said before Oliver could open his mouth and encourage this obnoxious woman.

  Fortunately the doctor’s door opened, and a grey-haired, gaunt-faced man in his fifties appeared.

  ‘Oliver, come in.’

  He held out his hand to Krista. ‘Hello. We haven’t met.’

  ‘Hej. Jeg hedder Krista Laatonen.’

  He laughed. ‘Rart at møde dig. That’s about the extent of my Danish these days.’

  ‘Mine too. I’m Finnish by birth.’

  ‘And I haven’t spoken Danish for thirty-five years. You’d both better come in by the look of you.’

  ‘She said she doesn’t want to see you,’ piped up Penny.

  ‘I said I don’t need to,’ said Krista.

  ‘Won’t hurt to let me check that cheek.’ Dr Jensen gave Oliver a surreptitious wink, which he acknowledged with a tiny smile. What was that about?

  ‘See Oliver first.’

  ‘Okay. Krista, you can have a wash if you like. Through there.’ He nodded at a door marked Toilet and ushered Oliver into his office, leaving Krista with a glowering Penny and a happily grinning Lola.

  ***

  ‘You’ve got yourself a very stylish girl, there, Oliver, underneath the dirt,’ Doc said as he peered at the cuts and bruises on Oliver’s face. ‘Your eye seems okay. Any vision problems?’

  ‘No. She’s not my girl.’

  ‘Well, you won’t mind if I invite her out for a coffee and Danish.’ He applied something to his eyebrow that stung like a hornet.

  ‘Christ almighty—what was that?’

  ‘Bit of disinfectant.’ He continued dabbing. ‘It won’t need a stitch. So what? A herd of horses ran you down, did it?’

  ‘Two thugs were threatening Krista. They were really after her stepbrother but he’s cleared out. The rest of the family left yesterday.’

  ‘Nice family.’ Doc put a tape on his eyebrow. ‘Follow my finger but don’t move your head.’ Oliver obeyed. He shone a light in his eye, grunted and flicked it off. ‘Now, let’s have a look at that arm. What happened?’

  ‘Not sure. I think it got kicked or maybe it was from defending myself. They were both laying into me.’

  ‘Any other pains?’ He studied the swollen wrist and lower arm, now turning dark purple.

  ‘Bruises. I got a punch in the stomach.’

  ‘Can you move your fingers and thumb? Bend your wrist up and down?’

  He tried the movement carefully. ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s not broken. I can send you for an X-ray if you want but I’m pretty sure it’s just very badly bruised. The joint itself is undamaged but you can use a sling for support.’ He went to a cupboard and produced a length of fabric, which he proceeded to tie around Oliver’s neck and arm.

  ‘Thank goodness. I don’t want to miss too many rehearsals for the show.’

  ‘Got roped in, did you? What have they got you doing? Leading man?’

  ‘Playing cello in the orchestra. Are you involved?’

  ‘Ha. No. They tried but it’s not my thing at all. Penny’s in the chorus. I hear all about it. That’s enough.’

  ‘How long will this take to heal?’

  ‘A few weeks and you should be fine. It’ll be sore though. Take some painkillers if you need to and take it easy. Get your girlfriend to look after you.’

  Oliver got to his feet slowly, every joint and muscle yelling at him to stop. ‘Thanks, Doc.’

  ‘No worries.’

  Doc opened the door. ‘Ms Laatonen.’

  Krista went in obediently, mainly, Oliver suspected, to spite Penny who sat glaring at the door as it closed. Krista had washed her face and run a comb through her hair but hadn’t attempted to conceal the red mark on her cheek. That bastard had hit her hard, not with a fist though, which was something. She’d have a broken jaw if he had.

  Oliver pulled out his wallet but Penny plastered on a smile and said, ‘No charge.’

  ‘Who says?’

  ‘Doc.’

  He frowned. ‘But …’

  ‘Nothing I can do,’ she said. ‘I just work here. Do you need another appointment?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  She tapped something into the computer. ‘Whose dog is it?’

  ‘Krista’s mother’s.’

  ‘Is she staying with you?’

  ‘Who, the mother or the dog?’

  ‘The blonde.’ She gave him a scathing look.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Oliver spoke as carefully as he could, given the anger bubbling more and more violently inside the longer her cross-examination and insinuations continued. ‘Penny, we’ve been attacked and we just barely escaped being caught in a raging, out-of-control bushfire. Krista drove four horses to safety after being hit in the face and knocked to the ground. The horses don’t belong to her and she doesn’t live at The Grange. Give her, and me, a break, please.’

  A flush stained her throat and worked its way upward. ‘I’m just saying. I don’t see why those people should involve the town in their goings-on.’

  ‘What goings-on exactly?’

  ‘Well, all those rich sorts go there … and …’

  ‘And what?’

  She clamped her mouth tight shut.

  ‘You were complaining earlier that The Grange people never come into town and now you’re saying they involve the town. Make up your mind or better still, get some facts straight first. Tell Krista I’ll be outside.’

  Too angry to remain, he flicked his fingers at Lola who sprang to her feet, tail wagging, and pattered after him as he strode for the door.

  How dare Penny? Being one of the town’s biggest gossips was her main claim to fame, along with her
mania for Elvis, and he was under no illusions that she wouldn’t be on the phone before he’d reached the car, passing on her version of what just happened. Normally he ignored her attempts to involve him in her speculation and innuendo because he wasn’t the slightest bit interested but this … under the circumstances, this was plain mean-spirited and blatantly unfair.

  How Krista would react was another matter but she’d pulled out her ice-queen voice and shut Penny up pretty effectively by offering no explanation of his presence at The Grange. And speaking Danish to Doc was a deliberate and brilliantly calculated piece of one-upmanship appreciated by the man himself. In fact, maybe he liked it too much. What was that crack about coffee and Danish? Hard to tell with Doc sometimes, whether he was joking or not.

  Anyway, Krista could hold her own with the gossips.

  Where was she going to stay?

  He leaned against the car while Lola sniffed about in the patchy grass on the nature strip. She’d made a good recovery and was coping well with the switch from pampered pet to refugee. His phone rang. Margie. She’d be at his place, locked out.

  ‘Hello, Margie.’

  ‘G’day, Oliver. Are you dead in your bed or are you out on a call? The gate’s locked.’

  ‘Neither. Sorry, it’s a long story but I’m on my way home now. Cancel any appointments will you, please?’

  ‘Okay. I’ll climb over the gate. See you soon.’

  ‘Don’t do that, you’ll do yourself a mischief. Ten minutes max.’

  She laughed and disconnected.

  Five minutes later, Krista came down the path. Lola scampered across to greet her and got picked up and cuddled for her trouble.

  ‘What did he say?’ she asked.

  ‘Bruised but not broken. Same with the eye. You?’

  ‘Like I told Penny. Ice on the ankle. Bruised hip. What’s her problem by the way?’

  ‘She’s the town gossip and she regards the doc as her property.’

  ‘Goodness. What a frightening thought. Does he know?’

  ‘Probably, but he wouldn’t care one way or the other unless it interfered with her work. He generally keeps to himself.’

  ‘She seems to regard you the same way.’

  ‘Hardly.’

  Now that really was a frightening thought. According to Margie, Beryl only brought Claudette in as an excuse to see him and now Krista was saying much the same thing about Penny. Rubbish. Their paths rarely crossed since her old cat had died a couple of months ago.

  ‘Don’t you know you’re the town’s most eligible bachelor?’ She smirked. ‘I’ll drive you home.’

  ‘Keep going on this road, it’ll take you right round the back of town to my place. Who told you that?’

  ‘Word gets around.’

  How could she hear something like that? No-one told him. There must definitely be some women’s network he didn’t know about.

  ‘Oliver, could I borrow your car, please? I need to find somewhere to stay and I also need to buy some socks, maybe some T-shirts and a phone. Is there somewhere in town?’

  ‘Not sure about the phone. I think you’ll need to go to Willoughby for that, but the supermarket will have socks and there’s a dress shop in the main street. Tina will probably have shirts or something. Not the sort of thing you’re used to, though.’

  Her mouth tightened but she didn’t say anything. He nearly added that the jeans and slacks Tina sold didn’t have rips in the legs but he had scissors she could use, then decided better not.

  ‘You can stay with me if you like,’ he said, much more casually than he felt.

  ‘Thanks but there’s a motel, isn’t there? Some of the staff who came for the party stayed there.’ No hint she’d taken any inference of an ulterior motive from his offer. Not that there was one.

  ‘Yes, and a B & B and two pubs. You can give them a call from my place. Could be full up with other evacuees.’

  ‘Rod and Amy will need somewhere to stay, too. My God, I hope they haven’t lost their house and car.’

  ‘Me too but we couldn’t drive three vehicles. I could fit them in at my house as well. There are three bedrooms.’

  ‘Would you?’ She flashed him a smile.

  ‘I’ll need some help with the horses. Three of them do belong to The Grange.’

  ‘Yes, of course. And you can’t drive.’ She drove in silence for a few minutes. ‘Maybe I should stay—to help.’

  ‘It would certainly be handy.’ He turned his head to look out the side window, to hide the pleased smile he couldn’t stop.

  Margie hadn’t attempted to climb the gate. She was leaning against it, staring at her phone.

  ‘Gosh, look at the smoke,’ said Krista.

  The road rose as it swung round the outskirts of the town, and he usually had a fairly clear view to the north and west from this direction. Huge billowing waves of dirty grey smoke blocked the whole sky to the north, where Jindalee and The Grange lay. Overhead, patches of blue were visible in a bizarre delineation of catastrophe and relative safety.

  Krista stopped behind the small car blocking the driveway. Margie came to the window and peered in.

  ‘What on earth have you two been doing?’

  ‘Open up and we’ll tell you,’ said Oliver. He handed her a bunch of keys.

  ***

  Margie took charge once she’d heard a summary of events. She helped bring in Oliver’s and Krista’s bags, put the kettle on, ordered Krista to the bathroom to wash and change into one of Oliver’s T-shirts because hers all needed a wash, made Oliver wash his hands and face, then sat him down with toast and tea for starters and went to the office to cancel appointments.

  ‘I’ll be back in ten minutes to cook a proper breakfast and feed the dog while you have your shower,’ she said.

  Oliver switched on the radio for a fire update. The local ABC station was a critical resource for on the spot emergency information.

  ‘… are closed between Smith’s Gully, Andamook, Cleary and Farleigh Creek. Jindalee Road between Taylor’s Bend and Jindalee is closed. The town of Jindalee has been evacuated but the main fire front is several kilometres west of the town. Firefighting resources have been focused on protecting the town and are so far successful in slowing the progress. There have been no new reports of property loss but fire crews have not been able to access some areas to check. It’s believed all properties have been evacuated. The tally stands at no loss of life, two injuries to firemen, one serious but not life threatening, three houses and outbuildings destroyed in the Fairlight area. Stock losses are unknown at this stage.

  Fire Chief Brett Green said a short time ago that if the wind remained light he was hopeful the main front threatening Jindalee would be brought under control by this afternoon.’

  He switched it off. West of Jindalee meant the fire was well away from the National Park, which ran along behind Taylor’s Bend and was also well away from The Grange, which lay south of the town. That didn’t mean other fronts couldn’t start up. At least the weather was better today.

  What a bloody nightmare. His arm throbbed. Now he was at home with time to think, the adrenaline that had carried him through the previous hours was fading. An intense weariness settled over him. He couldn’t sleep now though, he needed to shower and change out of the smoke-stinking clothes. All one-handed and awkward.

  How was he going to work? He couldn’t handle animals with one arm out of action. He’d have to take time off and close the practice. First time in five years. He never got sick.

  Krista came out of the bathroom wearing his black T-shirt and a skirt, her hair washed but still wet. The bruise on her cheek stood out stark and red on the pale skin but she was smiling. She was beautiful. She was fragile and strong and vulnerable and brave. She stole his breath and his ability to think straight and kept them as her own.

  ‘Your turn,’ she said. ‘Stinky.’

  ‘That’s what I get for being gentlemanly and letting you go first?’

  He ros
e with a groan as muscles grumbled, and headed for his bedroom.

  ‘Can I use your washing machine, please?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Need any help?’

  He stopped. ‘What with?’ Was she going to help take his clothes off?

  She shrugged. ‘Your shoes? Unbuttoning your shirt?’

  ‘I reckon I can manage, thanks.’

  ‘I’ll wash your clothes too if you want.’

  ‘Okay. No need now, though.’ He grinned and continued to his room.

  Krista took her bag to the laundry and dumped most of the contents into the machine. Margie came back while she was studying the controls and deciding which cycle to choose.

  ‘If you hang those outside they’ll smell of smoke,’ she said.

  ‘Gosh, you’re right. It’s mainly underwear and tops. It’ll dry inside.’

  ‘You up for eggs and bacon?’

  ‘Yes, but I can do it, Margie.’

  ‘You need a breather. Come and sit down.’ She disappeared into the kitchen. A drawer opened closed and she said, ‘Now, little doggy, what do you think of this? It’s special food from the vet.’

  Krista pressed the Start button. Stupidly, she had an overwhelming desire to cry, rising up from nowhere, for no reason at all, except maybe Margie’s matter-of-fact kindness. She rubbed a hand over her eyes and waited for the teariness to subside, then went through to the kitchen.

  Lola had her nose in a plastic bowl, guzzling something down.

  ‘I didn’t think of bringing her food,’ she said.

  ‘No worries. There’s plenty in the surgery storeroom. I’ve given Sandy a call, got her to come over and feed the horses.’

  ‘Thanks. I’d forgotten about that too. I fed the ones at the showground, though, before we left. Will they be all right there?’

  ‘Yeah, I reckon. Sandy can feed them this evening too, probably. She knows them all and she’s good with horses. All animals, really.’

  ‘I met her. She’s nice.’

  ‘Yeah, she’s a good kid.’

  ‘I need to phone my stepfather and tell him what’s happened. And Rod.’

  ‘Eat first, love.’

  Krista sat at the red formica-topped table while Margie tended a large frying pan that sent out mouth-watering aromas. Toast popped in the toaster and she whipped the slices out and applied a slab of butter to each before putting two more slices of bread in.