Bachelor Cure

CHAPTER SIX

MIKE slept until eleven the next morning. He opened his eyes and stared at his clock-and then sat bolt upright. What the hell…?

He swung out of bed, and then paused as a knock resounded on the outer door of his apartment. That must have been what had woken him. He dived under the sheet again, and two seconds later his bedroom door swung wide and Tessa’s face peeped around. When she saw he was awake, she beamed.

‘Well, good morning.’

He could only stare. A rejoinder just wouldn’t come out. Tess was dressed all in white, like a super-efficient little medico. She had on a white lab coat over white pants and T-shirt, white sneakers and a big white ribbon was hauling back that riot of red hair.

‘You like my bridal outfit?’ She whirled, a tray in hand, for him to inspect.

He did. He did very much. She looked just great!

She also smelled great. She stopped whirling and walked across the room to deposit her tray on his bedside table. The tray held fried eggs and bacon, toast and strong black coffee. It seemed an age since supper last night and the smell was just wonderful.

‘Here’s your breakfast,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I left it as long as I could, but any later and it’d have to be lunch. And that’s the last egg you’re allowed this week, Dr Llewellyn. If you’re not worried about your cholesterol then you should be, and as your new medical partner I feel I have to make a stand.’

‘But…’ He stared up at the girl above him, and then he stared at his alarm clock. It must have stopped working. He’d set it for six.

‘I turned it off,’ Tess said, seeing where he was looking. She smiled benignly, for all the world as if she’d done him a favour.

‘You-’

‘I sneaked in to check you were asleep about five a.m,’ she told him blithely. ‘Didn’t see me, huh? I’m a born sneak. And as for Strop! What a watchdog! He snored and rolled over and that’s the only peep I heard out of him. When I opened the door just now, he took one whiff of the bacon and headed for the kitchen at what I can only suppose is what he thinks is a run. Good grief!’

‘But the clock…’ Mike reached to lift the plate of eggs and bacon-and then thought better of it. He made a self-conscious grab at the sheet. Hell, why on earth didn’t he wear pyjamas?

But Tess either didn’t notice or wasn’t fussed at him presenting his nakedness from the hips up. ‘Yeah. The clock. I saw what time you’d set it for,’ she told him. ‘Six a.m.! What sort of a crazy time is that? I turned it off.’ Her smile widened. ‘Aren’t you glad I did?’

‘No,’ he said tersely, hauling his scattered wits together and the sheet higher. ‘I’m not. I have surgery. Saturday morning’s always frantic.’

‘I disagree.’

‘What do you mean-you disagree?’

‘I just did your surgery,’ she said. ‘That’s why I’m dressed like this-as opposed to you being dressed like you are. Very informal, I must say.’ Then, as colour started mounting under his tan, she kept right on going. ‘I figured I had to make a nice efficient impression first off-before everyone gets to know the real me. And it wasn’t frantic at all. It was great fun. I’ve met the nicest bunch of people.’ She grinned down at his confusion. ‘Mind you, I may have prescribed wart medicine for angina, or vice versa.’

‘You’re kidding,’ he said faintly, and she took pity on him and chuckled.

‘Yep. I’m kidding. I’m pretty sure I got everything right. Maureen-your nurse-receptionist-is just the greatest. She sat in with me and we had a copy of MIMS, which told us the brand names for the generic medicines, so I don’t think we’ve messed anything up. Maureen rang Ralph, the pharmacist, and you’re to pop in this afternoon and countersign everything. That’ll cover the legalities. But we did just fine.’

‘What…?’ He shook his head, trying to wake up. This felt just like a dream. ‘What have you seen? Who…?’

‘Lots of things.’ Tess hauled a chair from by the door and sat down beside him. ‘Lots of people. Eat your breakfast. It’s getting cold.’ She lifted the coffee-jug and poured two cups, one for Mike and one for her, then settled back like a visitor in a long-term hospital, here for the duration. Mike’s sense of unreality grew even stronger.

‘I saw Mrs Dingle’s arthritic knee,’ she told him-as though she’d really enjoyed the sensation. ‘I took out Susie Hearn’s stitches. I listened to Bert Sharey’s wheezy chest and his problems with his best heifer, and I gave him antibiotics and a lecture about smoking too much. I told Caroline Robertson she was pregnant, and then I had to tell her husband because they’ve been trying so long they didn’t believe me…’

‘Caroline Robertson’s pregnant?’

‘She’s about three months, I’d say,’ she said serenely. ‘It made me feel good to tell them. They’re very happy.’

‘You’re kidding.’ Mike shook his head. ‘Tess, do you know how important this is? If you’ve made a mistake…’

‘I don’t mistake pregnancy at three months.’ Tess appeared miffed. ‘I agree that some things might be different between Australians and Americans-like their nasal twang and the things they do to peanut butter-but pregnancy shouldn’t be included. I did a full examination and everything’s fine.’

‘But…’ Mike shook his head again in sheer disbelief. ‘The Robertsons have tried every treatment known to man, and then some. In January they finally stopped trying and applied for adoption.’

‘They can’t have stopped trying entirely.’ She grinned again, and then appeared once more to concentrate. ‘Who else? I can’t think. There were heaps of patients booked in. I’ve left all their cards out so you can see who I’ve seen and what I’ve done.’

‘And…the patients in hospital? They need-’ Mike was practically flabbergasted.

‘I’ve seen them, too,’ she said blithely. ‘I let Mrs Pritchard go home because she told me you’d promised she could today, and I couldn’t see any reason to keep her longer. I decided to keep Hal Connor’s drip in. It packed up about five a.m-that was when I checked on you-but I still think he needs the fluids.’ She paused. ‘Oh, and Grandpa-’

‘He’s OK?’

‘Yes. His electrolytes are almost back to normal and there’s nerve function all along the affected side. And he’s loving me working here.’ She smiled her pleasure. ‘Which makes two of us. Me and him. So, how about you, Dr Llewellyn? Are you happy to have me working here?’

‘I don’t seem to have a choice,’ he said slowly, munching into toast without thinking. God, this felt good. Weird but good. To have a long sleep followed by breakfast…

The grey weight of exhaustion he’d been carrying had slipped from him and he felt ten years younger. He was confused, but at least now he wasn’t bone-weary. ‘Is there anything you haven’t done?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘What about what’s happening at the hotel?’

Tessa’s smile faded. ‘Yeah, well… Everything can’t be good. But there’s news from Melbourne. Les is settled at the burns unit at the Alfred. He has a long road ahead of him but his condition didn’t deteriorate through the trip.’

‘But?’ Mike could tell here was something else. Tessa’s bright face had clouded.

‘I went down to what’s left of the hotel at about seven this morning. They were pulling… Well, they were pulling what may be the remains of Sam’s body from the ashes. I’ve identified it as human remains and it was hard enough to do that. I’ve organised for him to be brought into the mortuary, but the formal identification…’ She shrugged. ‘I’m afraid that might have to be up to you, Mike. You’ll need dental records. Medical records… I don’t know. I would have spared you that, but-’

‘Hell, you’ve done enough.’

‘No.’ Tess shook her head. ‘I haven’t done nearly enough.’ She clasped her hands with the same restfulness he’d seen the night before on the ambulance trip to the fire, and her face grew earnest.

‘Mike, the more I see, the more I know this is my sort of medicine,’ she said seriously. ‘In the States, medicine’s so specialised. Even if I choose to do family medicine, I won’t get to see anything like I saw this morning. I won’t get to see surgery or gynaecology or trauma. But here I see so much. In one short morning I’ve seen it all.’

‘It can be pretty mind-deadening,’ he told her flatly. ‘And it can be frightening. And sometimes it can be both. You’re coping with coughs and colds and people’s personal problems and life-threatening trauma all in the same day…’

She bit her lip and thought this through, and when she nodded he knew she was sure. ‘I know. I know it can be dreadful and I know it can be dreary,’ she said finally. ‘But this is what I want. Probation or not, I want to work here, Mike. Regardless of Grandpa. This is where I want to be.’

‘Tessa…’ He stared at her, troubled. He didn’t know the first thing about this woman. She seemed so sure, but he wasn’t sure at all. All he did know of this woman scared him stupid.

‘I’m rushing you,’ she said softly, standing up again. ‘Finish your breakfast, have another cup of coffee and think about it. You’re on call for the hospital for the next couple of hours. That’s another reason I’m waking you now. I’ve been invited to a football match this afternoon, and before that I’m off to do an obstetrician’s house call.’

‘An obstetrician’s…’

‘To Doris the pig,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Doris should be up to receiving visitors by now. I’m taking the Polaroid to get baby snaps for Grandpa. I’ll pass on your regards, shall I?’

‘Tess…’

‘Of course I shall,’ she said warmly. ‘After your help in delivering all those babies, it’d surprise me if Doris hasn’t named one of her sons Mike.’

She left him to his breakfast, and she left him feeling as stunned as he’d ever felt in his life before.

The day passed in a dream.

For the first time in Mike couldn’t remember how long, he had little to do. He checked Tessa’s medical records and found nothing to complain of. She’d been thorough and competent and careful, and there was nothing that he wouldn’t have done himself. Baffled, he took Strop for a stroll down to the pharmacy to countersign Tessa’s prescriptions.

‘Your new partner’s a damned fine girl,’ Ralph, the town’s pharmacist, told him. ‘Our Wendy went in this morning all stirred up because her periods are irregular. She’s getting ’em every two months and she jumped at the chance of seeing a lady doctor.

‘Well, she’s come home happy as a lark. Dr Westcott told her she’d have to be the luckiest fourteen-year-old girl in the district to get a period only every two months. It’s what her mother’s been telling her over and over, but do you think Wendy’d listen? But your Dr Westcott did the trick.’

The pharmacist sighed and dug his hands deep into the pockets of his white coat. ‘A woman doctor,’ he said in satisfaction. ‘That’s what this place needs. Plus…’ He grinned. ‘I can read her handwriting. A woman doctor with legible handwriting. Make her sign on the dotted line this minute.’

Yeah, right…

Mike came out of the pharmacy still troubled by a sense of unreality. This wasn’t happening.

There were the sound of car hooters from down by the river and he glanced at his watch. It was mid-afternoon. The local football game would be in full swing.

Football… ‘I’ve been invited to a football match,’ Tess had said.

He paused in indecision. He had his mobile phone on his belt. The locals played rough and there were always one or two minor injuries, so any minute now the phone would buzz into life.

He didn’t want to go back to the surgery.

‘I’ve been invited to a football match…’

‘What do you reckon, Strop? Do you feel like a football match?’

So Mike strolled the two blocks to the football field, telling himself all the time it was just to save the players the trouble of coming to the surgery. Not that he believed it for a minute.

The football competition here was a low-key, Australian Rules game. The ground had been marked out on the river flat, which meant whenever the river rose the games had to be cancelled. Four white posts were stuck in at each end of a roughly painted oval, and a players’ tent had been erected for each team. There was also a beer and pie tent. That was it. As a stadium it left a bit to be desired, but what the locals lacked in facilities they made up for in enthusiasm.

There were cars parked all around the playing field. Saturday afternoon football here was a town ritual. The women watched from the cars, with Thermos flasks and picnic baskets wedged between them on the front seats. Many had travelled in from outlying farms, and this was their social contact for the week. The only way anyone knew they were watching football was when a goal was scored. Then the hooters blared out from every second car in the place.

The men were made of sterner stuff, though, than to stay in the cars. They didn’t need the warmth-they left that to the women. Bellanor’s male population spent the game clustered around the beer tent-a hundred or so males spread no further than carting distance for the next round.

The rest of the boundary was left to the kids and the teenagers.

First off, Mike released Strop from his lead. From past experience, Strop would either spend the match hauling Mike’s arm off, trying to reach the pie tent, or he’d spend the match staring soulfully at pie tent customers, so as far as Mike could figure there was no choice. ‘Don’t eat too much,’ he told Strop. ‘Any more than one pie and you’re out of the car for a week.’

Strop gave his tail a majestic wave and departed at a waddle.

Strop-less, Mike made his way slowly around the ground toward the training tents. This was where he’d be needed, he told himself, trying hard not to keep a weather eye out for Tess.

But somehow he found her. Tess was right in the middle of a huddle of teenagers. And what she was wearing… It was just plain extraordinary.

Or maybe it wasn’t plain at all. Tess wore bright purple leggings, a brilliant yellow jacket and a purple cap with a yellow pompom. Oh, and purple Doc Martens on her feet for good measure.

He blinked. The colours of the teams on the ground were red and black stripes and black and white stripes respectively so, in this sea of red and black and white, Tess stood out like a sore thumb.

She was sublimely oblivious. Tessa was perched on the bonnet of Alf Sarret’s FJ Holden. Alf was a nineteen-year-old car fanatic who polished his car twice a day and wouldn’t let anyone look sideways at it much less sit on it, but Tessa was definitely sitting on it and she was talking and laughing as if she was nineteen years old and had known these kids all her life.

She saw him from ten yards away and a brilliant purple arm shot upwards in a wave.

‘Mike. Come over here. Isn’t this the craziest game? The kids have been teaching me the rules-or rather trying to teach me the rules. I think you need to be a third-generation Australian to understand them. Why aren’t you wearing team colours? And who are we barracking for?’

‘Who are we…?’

‘The kids say I need to choose, and I need to choose now,’ she said. ‘Apparently I can’t stay in this town without swearing allegiance to a Bellanor football club. The only trouble is-do I swear allegiance to Bellanor South Football Club or Bellanor North Football Club?’ She looked around at her crowd of bemused teenagers. ‘The camp here appears to be evenly divided,’ she said. ‘And I know Grandpa hates football. So I figure…if you and I intend to be partners then I’d better barrack for who you barrack for.’ She grinned. ‘The kids say otherwise we’ll fight.’

If you and I intend to be partners…

He thought fleetingly of what he’d always imagined a partner might be. He’d thought of a sober, conscientious middle-aged doctor with whom he could share the load. Not this…this…this pompommed purple and yellow apparition!

‘Jancourt,’ he said faintly. It was all he could think of to say, and the word was met by a howl of derision from the teenagers.

‘Yeah?’ Tessa wasn’t put off by the teenagers’ reaction. Her eyes rested on Mike’s face and she twinkled down at him. She dug her hands deep into the pockets of her extraordinary yellow jacket and nodded. ‘OK. If you say so, Mike, then I’ll barrack for Jancourt. Tell me about our team.’

‘But Jancourt’s hopeless,’ Alf interrupted. He had nobly allowed Tess to sit on his car and was now acting as if he was in charge of her. ‘Don’t do it, Doc. Jancourt’s the lousiest team. They lose every week.’

‘Jancourt’s more a name than a place,’ Mike agreed. ‘It’s all they can do to scratch eighteen men. In fact, sometimes they play with up to half a dozen men short, and their back line has an average age of about sixty.’

‘It sounds just my sort of team,’ Tessa said with aplomb, and Mike grinned.

‘It is,’ he told her. ‘If you barrack for North or South Bellanor, then every Monday morning you’ll be looked at by half the population as if it’s all your fault that they’re feeling ill. If you barrack for Jancourt…well, every Monday morning all you’ll get is sympathy.’

‘Very wise.’ Tess seemed perfectly satisfied with the logic. ‘And what are our colours?’

‘Sorry, Tessa. Not purple and yellow.’

‘Rats. These are the colours of my very favourite football team at home. The Vikings.’

‘They’re a bit loud,’ Mike said faintly, and Tessa’s smile widened.

‘Loud! You want loud? The true Vikings uniform has a hat with horns! Or I could be a fan of the Green Bay Packers. My mom follows the Green Bay Packers and she gets to wear cheese on her head. This is sedate in comparison.’

‘Cheese?’ Tess had the whole bunch of teenagers riveted to their conversation, and Tessa was revelling in it.

‘I kid you not.’ She chuckled. ‘I swear. Green Bay Packer fans wear vast slabs of cheese on their heads-don’t ask me why. The Vikings are a sensible, sane football team that a sensible, sane girl like me can follow with pride. I’ll follow them to the death-I’ll even wear horns-but when football clubs expect their fans to wear cheeses and a girl’s mother says she’s being undutiful by changing to the Vikings, well, it’s enough to make a girl migrate all the way to Australia.’

‘I expect it is,’ Mike managed faintly.

‘So what are the Jancourt team colours?’ she demanded.

‘Cream and brown.’

‘Ugh.’ Tessa’s pert nose wrinkled in distaste. Then she shrugged. ‘Never mind. I love purple and yellow, but I can’t have everything.’ Her smile returned in full and Mike could only stare.

Tess looked totally, perfectly happy. She looked as if she’d lived here all her life, and as if there was nothing more she could ask of life than to sit in a cold wind on a teenage boy’s ancient jalopy and cheer a football game where she didn’t even understand the rules.

She’d fit into this valley as if she’d been born here, Mike thought, wondering. In one half of one football game, Tess had managed to woo and win the town’s teenage population. The group Tess was in made up the most popular kids in town and there were more teenagers sidling up to the edges of the group every minute. By tomorrow, the word would be around town that there was a new lady doctor in town and she was great!

‘Oh, hell…’

There was a sudden howl from the crowd. A tackle had brought one of the forwards down, and the injured player was clutching his knee in agony out on the field.

Mike sighed and dragged his attention from Tess. ‘Well, there goes my quiet time,’ he said with resignation. ‘I’ll leave you to your friends, Dr Westcott.’

‘Hey, I’m coming too.’ She slid off the car and tucked her arm into his. ‘I’m your partner, OK?’ Her smile widened. ‘I’ve always dreamed of running onto the field as team doctor. It’s one of my career goals. Like at the movies when they interrupt with, “Is there a doctor in the house?”.’ They did it all the time before I graduated, but never since.’

‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not running onto any ground,’ he told her firmly, watching as the trainers raced over to the injured player with a stretcher at the ready.

‘I’ll only go if they yell that he’s stopped breathing. Even then I’ll wait until he turns blue. The players here have a nasty habit of getting on with the game, regardless. The only thing they ever stop for is Strop and that’s because he eats the ball. It took me months to teach him the pie tent was a better place to hang out than the centre of the playing field.’

‘You’re kidding.’ Tessa’s face creased in laughter. ‘It’s not a good doctor image-to have a ball-eating dog.’

‘No,’ Mike said darkly. ‘If I had my time again…’

‘You’d have him put down?’

‘Well…’

Tess chuckled and tucked her arm tighter in his. ‘Yeah, I know. Tough he-man Dr Llewellyn-with the squishy edges. So we’re not running out on the ground?’

‘Last time I went onto the ground I got hit in the face with the ball.’ Mike was incredibly aware of her proprietary arm. It made him feel as if every nerve in his body were alight-but, then, it’d seem churlish to haul it away. ‘The player only had a bruised knee, but I copped a bloody nose and a black eye,’ he managed. ‘They had to help me off!’

‘It’s not a good professional look.’ Tessa chuckled. She walked easily beside him, her arm still tucked in his. ‘So where do we do our doctoring?’ she asked.

‘The red tent. The player who’s coming off is wearing red for Bellanor North.’

‘Oh. Right. I’ll remember that.’

She would, too, he thought. Tessa’s quick, intelligent mind was busy tucking in item after item of what she’d term useful information. You wouldn’t need to tell her anything twice.

‘I don’t think you’re supposed to come into the training tent,’ he said faintly. ‘The rules are rigid. Women aren’t allowed.’

‘Oh, pooh,’ she said blithely. ‘I’m not a woman here, Dr Llewellyn. I’m a doctor.’ And she glanced up at him sideways and twinkled. ‘Do you reckon that’s something you can remember? It seems to me that it’s really important.’

And what the hell was he to make of that?

Jason Keeling was clutching his leg in agony. By the time they reached him, the trainers had deposited him on the bench and were looking down helplessly. Jason wasn’t letting them near his leg. He was curled almost into a foetal position, hanging onto his leg for dear life and swearing as if his life depended on it.

‘OK, Jason, let’s have a look,’ Mike said, bending over him and trying to see.

Jason didn’t look up. He was whimpering in pain and the swearing didn’t ease one bit.

‘Hey, I don’t know half those words.’

It was Tess. Of course it was Tess. She stood back from Jason and regarded him with frank admiration, and Jason was so stunned to hear a woman in the training room that momentarily he forgot to swear. He looked up from his leg and uncurled a bit.

‘Who the hell are you?’ he demanded.

‘I’m one half of the Bellanor medical team,’ she said blithely. ‘The better half. Show us your leg, Jason.’

And Jason was so flabbergasted that his hands fell away from his leg. Mike was in there before he could put them back, holding his leg and gently easing it to an extended position.

‘Fancy this happening just as you were winning,’ Tess said sympathetically. She perched on the end of the bench and put a sympathetic hand on his cheek. Mike could only bless her. For all Jason Keeling was six feet six inches of pure beef, he was a real wimp when it came to pain. Now, though, Tess had his full attention and Mike could run his hands carefully over the injured limb.

He couldn’t feel a break…

‘What do you mean-one half of the Bellanor medical team?’ Jason demanded. The team trainers were staring at Tess as if she’d just flown in from Mars, and so was Jason. Mike might just as well not have been present.

‘I’m a doctor.’ She chuckled as she glanced around at the men’s astounded expressions. ‘Believe it or not, that’s what I am. Mike said I might have to prove my qualifications or you’ll throw me out of the training tent.’

‘You can stay in any training tent you want, miss,’ one of the trainers breathed. ‘And I’ll personally chuck out anyone who says different.’

‘That’s really nice of you.’ Tessa’s eyes danced as she twisted to look down at the injured leg. Still her hand rested on Jason’s face. She was sitting so close to him that her crazy yellow jacket was brushing his body, and Jason was clearly completely thrown by the sensation. ‘What’s the damage, Dr Llewellyn?’ she asked. ‘Do you think we need to amputate? Do I get to hold him down while you chop it off?’

‘I reckon we might manage without amputation.’ Mike grinned in return. To examine Jason when he was in pain was usually a nightmare, but she had Jason absolutely silenced. Now she shifted from the bench to support Jason’s leg as Mike carefully ran his hands from the knee down. He watched Jason’s face as he did, but Jason didn’t utter a whimper. ‘What happened, Jason?’

‘I was running,’ Jason muttered. ‘I just felt something…like a bang. Like something snapped.’ Jason’s eyes were still on Tessa, fascinated.

Mike nodded, moving to feel above the ankle. His suspicions were being confirmed here. There was a definite notching.

‘Can you move your ankle, Jason? Will your toes lift?’

Jason stared wildly from Tessa to Mike, trying to collect his wits. It was as if he was having trouble remembering he had a leg at all. Tessa’s pompoms and her gorgeous red hair had him in thrall. Finally he shook his head. ‘Nah…’ Then his face creased again as he remembered his wimpishness and he remembered his pain.

‘I reckon we might get some morphine on board,’ Mike told him hastily. ‘That’ll ease the pain.’

‘But what’s wrong? What’s wrong?’

‘I think you’ve torn your Achilles tendon. It’s hard to say whether it’s a complete tear or not without a fuller examination, but that’s what it feels like.’

‘Aw, hell…’

‘Hey, it beats a compound fracture,’ Tessa told him. Mike was settling the leg back on the bench. Tessa turned to touch Jason lightly again on the face, and Jason stared up at her in stupefaction. ‘It’s not much better, I guess,’ she said sympathetically, ‘but a little.’

‘But it’ll mean I miss the rest of the season,’ Jason wailed. ‘I’ll have to stay on the sidelines and watch…’

‘Like me,’ Tessa said cheerfully. ‘I know nothing about this game. Back home in the States, I love football. Here, though, it sure looks different. I need someone who knows it inside out to teach me what’s happening. You look like just the man-that is, if you don’t mind me barracking for Jancourt.’

‘Jancourt…’ Jason lay back on the bench and stared up at her in stupefaction. ‘Jancourt. Why the hell are you barracking for Jancourt?’

‘Dr Llewellyn said I should,’ Tessa said blithely. ‘And he’s my boss now. It’s always wise to do what your boss says-don’t you think?’

‘Yeah. Right.’ Jason couldn’t think of a single thing more to say.

And neither could Mike.

There was only one more medical case for the afternoon-a bruised hamstring muscle that could be left safely in the hands of the trainers-so they got to watch most of the game. Jason was sent to the hospital. He’d need to be checked later and the leg properly X-rayed and examined, but before that the nurses could clean away the worst of the mud and his family could fuss and generally settle him down. There wasn’t much more to be done in the short term.

‘What if it’s a complete tear?’ Tessa asked as they sat on the trainers’ seats and watched the Bellanor North players storm their way to victory.

‘We’ll send him to Melbourne.’

‘There’s no one closer to do orthopaedic surgery?’ If the Achilles tendon was completely separated then it would have to be surgically joined. A partial tear would heal itself, given several weeks’ immobilisation in plaster, but a full tear wasn’t quite as easy.

‘I could do it,’ Mike said heavily. He was feeling really odd, sitting beside this girl. She was acting as if they’d known each other for ever-as if they were partners in every sense of the word. And yet…

Hell, he felt strange.

‘You’ve done surgical training?’ she asked.

‘I trained for this job,’ he told her. ‘I knew I’d be isolated when I came to work here so I got myself training in everything I could get my hands on. There’s not a lot of emergency medicine I can’t do, but I’ve found it’s not a lot of use if I don’t have an anaesthetist.’

‘I can give an anaesthetic.’

‘You…’

‘Now don’t say it like I’m a porriwiggle,’ she begged. ‘The fact that I’m American doesn’t mean I’m low-life. I’m not even wearing a cheese hat.’ She swung her head to prove it, and her crazy purple pompoms bounced.

She wouldn’t need to give an anaesthetic, Mike thought. She only had to wiggle her pompoms and she had a man mesmerised. She could do anything she wanted…

‘Look, it doesn’t matter whether you can give an anaesthetic or not,’ he managed. ‘You’re not registered. You can’t.’

‘But Maureen says she’ll swing my registration within twenty-four hours from the medical board opening for business on Monday. Jason’s surgery’s not urgent. We could do it Tuesday.’

‘What sort of anaesthetic work have you done?’ he asked. Hell, he was fascinated. He was trying to listen-not watch.

‘General.’ Once more, the pompom waggled. ‘I told you, I’ve always fancied the idea of moving to the country. I was thinking I might do ER in a smaller country hospital so I figured anaesthetics-you know, intubation and pain relief and the rest-might give me an edge.

‘Then I sort of changed my mind. I wanted kids and dogs and prostates instead of car smashes and drug overdoses. But I’ve done a solid basic training in anaesthetics. I’m not volunteering to give the anaesthetic for open heart surgery here, but I can certainly give a healthy hunk of beef like Jason a guaranteed sleep.’

Mike fell silent. He stared out over the football ground, his mind racing. What on earth…? An anaesthetist, right on his patch…

‘Look, I’m not asking you to take me on trust here,’ Tessa said, mistaking his expression. ‘Ring my ex-boss on Monday and run through my credentials with him. Don’t take me at face value. I wouldn’t myself.’ Then she grimaced as the phone on Mike’s belt rang. ‘Ugh.’

That was what Mike felt. He didn’t want more work now. Or did he? Maybe he did need an excuse to leave and think things through.

The game was just coming to an end. The siren blared and the field erupted into red and black madness. A hundred car horns hooted. Mike turned away and covered his exposed ear while he talked into the phone.

By the time he’d finished, Tessa was clapping the jubilant players off the field, for all the world as if it was grand final day, she totally understood the game she’d been watching and she’d been supporting these players for years. To Mike’s bemusement, when the losing side ran off the field she greeted them with just the same enthusiasm.

As Mike came up behind her, she turned and grinned at him.

‘OK. I’ve clapped till my hands are sore. Was that another call? Do we need to go?’

‘I need to go.’ It wasn’t that he didn’t want Tessa beside him, he thought. He figured it was just that he needed to get away for a while. He badly needed time to think. ‘Stan Harper’s a sixty-year-old farmer who lives out the other side of Jancourt,’ he told her. ‘He rang to say he’s having chest pain.’

‘Yeah?’ Her smile faded. ‘Heart?’

‘In a way.’ He smiled a trifle bleakly and shook his head. ‘Stan’s wife died six months ago. Since then he gets chest pain every few weeks or so, and he panics. I’ve run the gamut of tests on him and there’s nothing wrong.’

‘But you’ll go anyway.’ Tessa’s face softened.

‘Yeah, well…’ He could get Stan to drive himself in to the hospital. It’d be safe enough. But he knew what Stan really wanted.

Stan wanted Mike to care about him a bit-to fuss like his Cathy had and to tell him he wasn’t alone in the world. He wanted someone to share a beer and stare at a few cows and talk about the outcome of a football match that Stan wasn’t ready to face without Cathy.

‘Yeah, I’ll go, but I do need to go by myself. Sorry.’ He bit his lip at the sound of the words. He sounded surly.

How else was he supposed to sound? He didn’t know. He needed to figure out some way to get things on a solid, sensible footing here, he decided. Maybe he needed to talk to this girl for a while. Yeah. That was it. He needed to know all about her medical training, and he needed to know soon, before he made a decision about sending Jason away for surgery.

‘Tess, I should be back in town by about seven,’ he said slowly, thinking his mental diary through. He wasn’t expected at the shire ball until nine. There was time to talk first, especially if they did it over a meal. ‘There’s some steak in my refrigerator. I’m going out to the shire ball later but, well, we could eat first. Talk about things…’

‘I’d love that.’ She beamed and the thing was settled before he had a chance to say another word-or before he had a chance to decide whether he was totally stupid or not.

‘I’ll meet you in your apartment at seven,’ she said. ‘Unless you need me beforehand. Meanwhile, I’ll stay here and celebrate or commiserate, and then I’ll go and sit with Grandpa a while. But I’ll be there at seven, Mike. Steak sounds fantastic.’

Hell! He felt like he was being steamrollered here, but there was little he could do about it. And maybe…maybe it was what he wanted. ‘I just…need to collect Strop,’ he said weakly. ‘He’s over at the pie tent.’

‘Of course he’s over at the pie tent.’ Tess grinned. ‘I should have known Strop would be here and where Strop would be while he was here. Don’t worry about him. I’ll take him home.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely. It would be my very great pleasure to take care of your dog, Dr Llewellyn.’

And, as he moved away, Mike swore he heard a faint echo.

‘And it would be my very great pleasure to take care of you.’

Surely he must have been mistaken!

As he’d thought, there was nothing the matter with Stan Harper.

Mike gave him a thorough once-over, but his vital signs were all just as a healthy sixty-year-old’s should be. Stan accepted the verdict with resignation-hell, it was almost as if the man wanted a heart attack-and poured him a beer. They went out to sit on the back verandah to drink it in what was almost becoming a ritual.

‘I missed you at the game,’ Mike told him, staring out over the mountains at the setting sun. ‘Your team lost. They don’t play the same without you holding up the bar and cheering for them.’

‘Or Cathy hooting for all she’s worth in the car,’ Stan said morosely. ‘I know we never stayed together at the footy, but she was always there. I don’t know, Doc. It doesn’t seem the same without her. Nothing’s the same.’

There was nothing to say to that. Mike took a swig of beer and stared some more out over the paddocks. This was all he could do for this man. To be here. To be a mate.

‘Why the hell don’t you get married?’ Stan demanded suddenly. He filled his glass again and turned his attention full on Mike. ‘A man’s a fool if he doesn’t get married.’

‘Everyone’s different.’

‘Yeah, but you’re not a natural loner. You could do with a good woman.’ Stan eyed Mike with speculation in his eyes. ‘Your mum was a bonzer woman.’

‘Maybe that’s why I don’t get married,’ Mike said uneasily. ‘No one measures up.’

‘There’s good women around. Your mum. My Cathy. You just gotta look.’ Stan frowned into his glass, deep in thought.

At one level Mike welcomed this conversation. It made him uncomfortable, but at least Stan was thinking about something other than his misery.

‘What about this new lady doctor?’ Stan said, and all of a sudden the conversation was totally unwelcome.

‘What about her?’

‘They say she’s a knockout.’

Mike thought of the purple pompoms and could only agree.

‘How about it, Doc?’ Stan demanded. ‘Are you interested?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’m too busy to be thinking about a love life.’

‘Then think about this girl instead,’ Stan said warmly. ‘Not a love life. A future. A lady doctor as a wife… That’d mean half the workload and someone warm beside you in bed at night. A man’d be a fool to look a gift horse like that in the mouth.’

‘Yeah. A man’d be a fool.’

A man was a fool anyway.