Rescue at Cradle Lake

CHAPTER ELEVEN

RICHARD died eight days later.

Fergus had been back at the house many times in the interim, but he’d kept his visits relatively formal. With Ginny.

With Richard he’d established something that was as close to a friendship as could be made between people in such disparate circumstances.

‘You’ll look out for Ginny for me, mate,’ Richard had whispered in one of his last few moments of consciousness when Fergus had been by his side. Ginny had been out visiting one of the community’s new mums and had taken Madison with her. ‘She’s playing hardy but when the others died… She breaks up inside,’ Richard had told him.

Fergus knew what that felt like. He thought of a grief-stricken Ginny and thought if he only had the courage…

To take Ginny, to take three dogs, to take one little girl…

‘I’ll keep in touch with her,’ Fergus said. ‘Though I’m not sure…’

‘You don’t have to be sure it’ll lead anywhere,’ Richard whispered. ‘And you don’t have to be scared either. Take it from me, there’s nothing to be afraid of. You know, a few weeks ago I was terrified. But not now. I’ve been given this place. I’ve been given the gift of knowing I have a kid and Madison’s going to be great. Great for Ginny. Great for…’ He paused and his gaze turned inward, as it did increasingly. ‘Well, who knows who she’ll be great for. But, Fergus…watch out for her for me.’

‘I will,’ Fergus promised, and when Tony rang him at two in the morning to say it was over, he remembered his promise as he drove through the darkness.

To what?

To a deathbed.

In such circumstances it wasn’t even necessary for a doctor to attend. Richard had been in a coma for the last three days. His death had been inevitable. The local undertakers could come and do their job without him, and Fergus could sign the death certificate in the morning.

But not to go now was unthinkable.

He pulled into the yard and Tony was standing on the veranda, waiting for him.

‘I knew you’d come,’ he said in satisfaction. ‘Ginny said not to call you but-’

‘But I’d said call,’ Fergus said, almost roughly. In truth, he’d wanted to be here himself at the end, but time of death was totally unpredictable and Fergus was employed to take care of the needs of the entire community. Not just one man.

Or one man’s sister.

‘Was it OK at the end?’ he asked. There were deaths and deaths. He’d worked hard to make this one right. He’d rung a Sydney palliative care physician. He’d double-checked himself every way. Please…

‘He just slept into it,’ Tony reassured him. ‘If Ginny hadn’t been sitting with him, holding his hand, we wouldn’t have known exact time of death. He just slipped away.’

‘Ginny…’

‘She’s not here,’ Tony said. ‘She said she needed to be by herself for a bit. She left in the car a couple of minutes ago.’

Hell.

He needed to see the whole picture. He needed not to focus just on Ginny.

‘Madison?’

‘She’s sound asleep. We thought we wouldn’t wake her.’

‘No.’

‘You want me to call the undertaker?’

‘There’s time,’ Fergus said. He checked Richard’s body but it had been like Tony had said. He’d just slipped away, leaving his body like an outer husk of what had once been there. A peaceful death.

‘Can you stay on a bit longer?’ he asked Tony, and Tony smiled and shrugged.

‘We agreed this was a part of our regular shift work. Madison’s on the books as well as Richard. I’m on duty until seven.’

‘Ginny will be back by then.’

‘You’ll go and find her?’ Tony asked, and Fergus could see that he was troubled.

‘You think I should?’

‘I think you should,’ the big nurse told him. ‘Mate, I think you have to.’

She was in the boatshed. He’d guessed she would be, but even so it was a relief when he pulled into the clearing and saw her car.

The door of the boatshed was open. He pushed it wide and saw her. She was at the other door, sitting on the ramp which slid down into the water. She wasn’t moving. For a moment he thought she was in control, simply sitting staring out over the lake.

But then her shoulders heaved with a convulsive sob and he moved like a shot from a gun, kneeling, gathering her into his arms, holding her, pulling her against his chest, taking the brunt of the wrenching sobs as she wept her heart out for the brother she’d loved.

She wept and wept, until it seemed she could weep no more, and then she subsided against him, spent.

He kissed the top of her head and she shuddered, a long, racking shudder that seemed to go right through her.

And then she pulled herself away from him. Her face was almost colourless in the moonlight. Almost deathlike.

‘You’re never ready,’ she whispered, and he nodded.

‘No.’

‘I thought…’

‘That this would be different? You love Richard. How can a loss of a love be anything less than that?’

‘Oh, God…’

He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear it for her.

And here she was opening herself up again for future pain. She’d taken on Madison. She’d taken on three dogs.

She’d take him on if he only could…

He couldn’t. He stared down into her face and the grief he saw was a reflection of the pain that had torn him apart for months. To take on more…

She saw it and she withdrew. Just a little. Just enough to show that she’d get past this, she knew it. The control was there, ready to slip down.

She might hurt as much as she’d done before, but maybe she’d learned that she’d survive.

A lesson he hadn’t learned yet?

‘Thank you for coming,’ she whispered. ‘I shouldn’t have needed…but I did.’

‘Of course you did.’

‘See. That’s the problem,’ she managed. ‘I’ll always need. That’s why…’

She shook her head as if ridding herself of a bad dream and tried to struggle to her feet. He was before her, lifting her, supporting her as she made her knees firm under her.

‘I’m fine. Thank you for being here for me, Fergus. I’ll go back to the house now. I need to get the undertaker before morning. I don’t want Madison to be awake when…’ She took a deep breath. ‘There’s things need doing.’

‘Let me help you.’

‘You’ve done enough,’ she told him. ‘You gave Richard the best medical care possible. More, you gave him friendship…’

‘But-’

‘You have nine weeks left in this place,’ she told him. ‘I understand you came here to get away from…strings. If you wanted to leave now, I could understand.’

What was she saying? Leave everything, including his medicine? ‘I signed a contract.’

‘Yes, but I’m available to be medical officer for the district now.’

‘Not yet,’ he told her, finally finding some ground he was sure of. ‘You need time to adjust. Madison needs time…’

‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘But maybe not. This is a new life. Maybe all we need to do is jump right in.’

‘But not tonight,’ he said roughly, grasping her arms.

She stared down at his hands on her forearms and then very gently she pulled away.

‘Yes, tonight,’ she whispered. ‘That’s all there is to do. Jump right back in at the deep end. Tonight.’

Luckily for Fergus, the next two days were extraordinarily busy. The medical scene was hotting up-mostly as the surrounding community realised there was a real doctor who could give real consultations and they didn’t have to travel.

To say he was beginning to be overwhelmed was an understatement.

‘I can’t leave all this to Ginny,’ he growled to Miriam the morning of Richard’s funeral, and she smiled and shrugged.

‘Before you we had no one and we coped. We’re blessed that Ginny’s agreed to stay here. Do you think we’ll stand by and see her worked into the ground?’

‘But she won’t say no,’ he growled. ‘I know her. Look out in my waiting room. Who would I say no to?’

‘We’ll protect her,’ Miriam said gently. ‘You’ll go back to your life and we’ll get on with ours. With Ginny.’

And never the twain shall meet. Why did that hurt?

‘Meanwhile, you have a queue of six patients, Dr Reynard.’

‘Just make sure I’m clear for the funeral at two,’ he muttered, and she nodded.

‘Of course. As I said, we do look after our own.’

‘I’m not your own.’

‘While you’re going to Richard’s funeral, yes, you are.’

He’d thought the funeral would be tiny. It was anything but.

The church itself was tiny, an ancient grey stone building covered with a mass of briar roses that almost buried it. Miriam and Fergus drove up together, having stopped on the way to check on Ginny.

‘We’re fine,’ she’d told them. She’d been sitting on the back step dressed in a flowery chintzy dress that hadn’t looked in the least like a funeral, and she had been holding onto Madison, dressed in much the same way. ‘The undertaker’s picking us up.’

‘Let us take you,’ Fergus had urged, but she’d shaken her head.

‘Madison and I are family. We’ll do this by ourselves.’

She’d looked defiant and brave, and only the pallor of her face had given away the true way she was feeling.

And now…

‘She’ll have to face the whole community,’ Fergus said as they pulled up at the church. ‘Alone.’

‘She’s not alone,’ Miriam said. ‘The undertaker is Sam Leith and he went to school with Ginny’s dad. This is where she belongs. We’re her people.’ She gazed around the car park. ‘There’ll be some who are here simply out of curiosity.’ She grimaced as she saw Oscar in a wheelchair with a group of half a dozen residents of the nursing home. ‘Many of the oldies will be here because they knew Ginny and Richard’s grandparents and parents. Many will be sympathetic, though there’s always a few who think a funeral’s a good excuse for an outing and a free drink or six. And then there’s Oscar,’ she went on, before Fergus could interrupt and ask. ‘He’ll be here because he hates the family. Did you know Ginny’s mother refused to marry him? Wise woman. Anyway, it’s always rankled and he’ll be pleased another Viental’s dead. But he’s an exception. Most of this community will be here because they know Ginny wants to stay here-that she’s decided she belongs.’

‘But it’s so soon.’ He’d pulled into the last available parking space behind the church and now he was looking back along the road to where a stream of cars was still arriving. ‘And Madison… Should she be coming?’

‘Ginny talked to the child psychiatrist,’ Miriam said, as if this had been a major source of discussion. ‘She said it’d make it much easier for Madison later on if she has some shadowy memory of what’s happening. Ginny and Richard brought her together to her mother’s funeral. Judith and Richard will be buried side by side. It’ll give Madison some sort of link.’

‘But today…’

‘Is going to be hard for both of them,’ Miriam agreed.

‘If she’d let me be there…’

‘You know, maybe she would,’ Miriam said softly. ‘But if she let you…would you stay?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘I think you know perfectly well what I mean,’ she retorted. ‘If Ginny lets herself lean on you now, she’s going to need you for always. That’s not what you want now, is it?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘At least…I don’t think so.’

By the time they walked into the church the place was packed. People were being directed to the hall next door where a video link had been set up, but as they made to turn away, the usher called them back.

‘There’s a pew for the medical staff who treated Richard,’ he said. ‘Second from the front on the left.’

So Fergus sat between Miriam and Tony and Bridget. The organ was playing gentle waiting music. The church was hushed.

Out the front was the coffin, burnished oak and beautiful, loaded with the same wild roses that covered the church.

The last funeral he’d been to, the coffin had been so much smaller…

There was a touch on his hand and he looked down and Miriam’s broad palm was covering his.

‘Hang in there, kid,’ she told him, and he looked at her in wonder. How much could be read on his face?

He’d come to Cradle Lake to hide. How could he hide here?

‘She shouldn’t be bringing Madison,’ he whispered, miserable that he hadn’t been able to talk about this with Ginny. But every attempt at contact over the last days had been met with a gentle, ‘Thank you, Fergus, we’re fine. We need to start as we mean to go on-Madison and me. Let us do this on our own.’

‘She’s bringing Madison,’ Miriam whispered. ‘I told you. The child psychiatrist talked her through it. They have a plan.’

A plan. The idea should have made him feel better.

It didn’t.

Then a stir at the back of the church made him turn. Sam, the undertaker, was there. And Ginny and Madison and…

Dogs.

Three dogs, all garlanded with flowers. Wearing garlands, woven ropes of flowers of every description.

Ginny and Madison were bedecked with flowers, too, the flowers of their dresses augmented with the gay garlands round their necks. Madison had a circlet of roses in her hair.

Woman and child, dogs and flowers… The church gasped as one.

In they came. Ginny had the whippet and the collie-Twiggy and Snapper-and Madison held the smaller Bounce as if this was a very serious responsibility. The two girls and three dogs made their way in dignified style down the aisle behind the grey-suited undertaker. There was a momentary pause as Snapper decided to cock a leg on a pew-he was clearly only at the beginning of dignified dog behaviour training. There was no consternation, however. Sam was carrying a vast armful of flowers, posies and wreaths of all description. Snapper paused. Ginny paused. Madison sucked her breath in with four-year-old indignation and said, ‘Bad dog, Snapper.’ But clearly this eventuality had been rehearsed. Ginny simply lifted a pile of flowers from Sam’s arms and laid the pile over Snapper’s spot. More flowers in a church that was redolent with flowers.

The congregation giggled.

That set the flavour of the entire ceremony.

Richard had had friends. For these last few weeks he’d wanted to be alone and he’d asked them not to come, but they were here in force now, celebrating his life as Ginny had obviously agreed that they should. There was music-fabulous music. There were people telling wonderful stories of the Richard they’d known and obviously loved. There was a boy, maybe only sixteen, accompanied by his parents, who’d met Richard in hospital some years before and who spoke of the way Richard had made him see that a life with cystic fibrosis could be a great life.

Short didn’t necessarily mean empty.

Short just meant stacking more in, living for every moment. Living for now.

And then Ginny and Madison rose, accompanied by their dogs.

‘It’s time to say goodbye to Richard,’ Ginny said softly. ‘Your friend. My brother. Madison’s daddy.’ She smiled gently at the little girl whose hand she was holding. ‘Madison, do you want to say what happens now?’

‘We bury the shell,’ Madison said, holding on for dear life to Bounce’s collar with one hand and Ginny with the other, but her clear little voice reached out through the sound system and filled the church. ‘My daddy and my mummy were in shells like snails.’ She looked up at Ginny for reassurance, but she kept gamely on. ‘We’ve all got shells,’ she said. ‘Like snails. My mummy said I’ve got a pretty one with nice hair, and Bounce has got a fuzzy one with stiff hair like a hearth brush. My Mummy said we have to enjoy every minute of being in our shells. She said we should stay in our shells till we get really, really old, and probably that’s what’ll happen to me and Ginny and Bounce and Snapper and Twiggy. But sometimes we get sick, like my mummy and daddy, and we come out of our shell early. Ginny says that’s OK. She thinks my mummy and daddy might have found a new shell together. That’s sad ’cos we don’t know where that new shell is, but we still have to bury the old shell and that’s what we do now.’

What child psychologist had worked their wonder here? Fergus wondered, dazed. What medical textbook did this come from? Judith and Ginny between them? Madison’s mother and Madison’s new mother. Two redoubtable women.

There was a sniff beside him and the clutch on his hand tightened. ‘Oh, Fergus,’ Miriam quavered, and he would have given her his handkerchief but he needed it himself.

‘That’s what we have to do,’ Ginny said softly into the hushed-except for sniffing-silence. ‘We need to say goodbye to Richard and bury his shell.’

A guitarist-one of Richard’s friends-started to play. Six more of Richard’s friends separated from the congregation to act as pallbearers and Ginny and Madison and dogs led the way out into the sunshine.

It was over.

Afterwards refreshments were served in the church hall. It was more like a party than a wake, Fergus thought. He couldn’t get near Ginny. He stayed for more than an hour, an outsider watching. In the end he was almost desperate for a medical emergency to draw him away, but his beeper stayed silent and he couldn’t leave. He just…couldn’t.

So he stayed and he watched as Ginny smiled her way through the afternoon, greeting people over and over, listening to anecdotes of Richard’s life, being polite, trying desperately not to sway with weariness.

He could see exhaustion seeping in but there was nothing he could do about it. The only time he approached her, her smile had slipped and she’d said with something akin to desperation, ‘Go away, Fergus. I don’t need you. I can’t. Please. Just go away.’

So he’d gone away, but not far. He’d made small talk to other people and he’d tried not to look at her.

Instead, he’d watched Madison.

It had been an extraordinary performance, he thought, recalling the way she’d spoken to everyone in the church. For a four-year-old to speak like that…

She was the only child of a single mother, and he recognised the result. Judith must have talked to this little one as an equal. She must have needed Madison almost as much as Madison had needed her. The result was a child who was older than her years.

But she could still revert.

Tony’s children were here, and others. Richard’s friends were in the age group who had young children and there were maybe a score of youngsters in the hall. Doing what kids do when grown-ups were boring. Amusing themselves.

The overflow of flowers had been brought in here, set up in vast urns or simply lain in fabulous colourful piles around the walls. Looking at Madison’s garland in envy, some of the older children had set up a cottage industry. The older ones had taught the younger ones, and now the funeral flowers were being made into daisy chains. Daisy chains with a difference. Instead of daisies, every single flower imaginable was put into use.

The children made garlands for themselves and then they moved on to parents and aunts and uncles and friends, and finally every single person in the hall was being decorated with Richard’s flowers.

It was fantastic, Fergus thought, and the remembrance of his own little girl slipped back. Molly would have loved this. Molly, who’d slipped from her shell too soon…

But she’d had a wonderful life.

As the afternoon settled so, too, did a part of his pain. Madison’s words echoed over and over in his heart.

‘We have to enjoy every minute of being in our shells.’

These children were doing just that. Making flower garlands from funeral flowers.

He watched Madison, intent on her flowers. Too old for her years, she was intent now on reverting to childhood.

Enjoying every minute of her time…

He could help. He could…

‘It’s a pity you can’t stay on in the valley,’ an elderly lady was telling him. ‘You know, this place is calling out for two doctors. You and our Ginny’d make a ripper medical team.’

Yes, we would, Fergus thought, but it wasn’t just the medical concept he was thinking of. It was as if the fog he’d been moving in for the last few months was lifting, and outside the fog was…

Life?

‘We’ll have to think about it,’ he said absently to his conversation partner. Madison had just completed her garland and he wanted to see what she did with it.

She’d been lying full length on the floor, totally committed to the job at hand. Now she looked up, scanning the hall, looking to see which of the adults were not yet decorated.

Most were. The older children were working faster than the littlies and the production line was becoming efficient.

Ginny was wearing no less than six garlands. Fergus had two. The lady he was talking to had three.

At the far end of the hall the men had set up a bar. He watched as Madison searched the crowd, looking for a bare neck.

Oscar.

He was in a wheelchair, soaking up the free booze. What was the man doing here? Fergus though in irritation.

Madison started to move toward him.

Fergus moved to intercept. He didn’t trust…

‘Doc, if you’re not going to stay, at least tell us where you’ll be practising in the city,’ the lady beside him said, and she grasped his arm as he tried to move away. ‘My daughter lives in Sydney and her doctor’s terrible. Last week she had three children down with chickenpox and could she get her doctor to do a house call? I don’t think so. And the migraines she gets… You have no idea.’

Her grip on his arm was insistent. Fergus was too late to stop Madison. She’s already reached Oscar.

Let the man be gracious, he thought. Let him accept his garland and get on with his drinking.

The garland caught Oscar by surprise. Because he was in a wheelchair, Madison could reach. She simply slipped up behind him and the garland plopped over his head.

He spilled his beer, swore and swivelled.

What happened next Fergus couldn’t tell. He was too far away to hear.

But the man grabbed the child by the arm, hauled her up so his face was right in hers and spat words at her that made her blench.

And then he almost threw her aside.

Others were closer than Fergus. Tony reached her first, sweeping her up as one of his own, hugging her, letting her bury her face in his shoulder and carrying her back to Ginny.

That should be me, Fergus thought, struggling through the crowd, and the surge of certainty was so great that he felt almost overwhelmed by it. It was as much as he could do not to haul over there and grab the little girl from Tony’s arms.

But she needed Ginny. Already Ginny had gained her trust, and when Tony reached her Ginny held out her arms and Madison crumpled into them and sobbed her heart out.

There was nothing for Fergus to do. Except…

He was right by Oscar now, hardly aware how he’d got there.

‘What the hell did you say to her?’

‘Nothing,’ Oscar muttered, and held up his empty glass. ‘Get me another. Bloody kid spilled my drink’

There was a nurse close by-a girl who’d come with the six nursing-home residents. She moved forward, unsure, and Fergus motioned her closer. ‘I want Mr Bentley back in the nursing home,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Now.’

‘You can’t tell me-’

‘The only reason you’re not being prosecuted for cruelty to animals is that you pleaded disability,’ Fergus snapped. ‘The inspectors spoke to me and I was forced to confirm it. But if you’re well enough to attend funerals, if you’re well enough to get drunk on free beer and to abuse young children, then you’re well enough to stand trial over neglected horses and dogs and sheep.’

‘You wouldn’t-’

‘Watch me,’ Fergus said, through gritted teeth. He glanced up and found Miriam. ‘Miriam, could you arrange Mr Bentley’s transportation now?’

‘I’m on it now, Doctor,’ Miriam told him, grabbing Oscar’s wheelchair and propelling it toward the door with savagery. ‘The hospital’s downhill from here. Permission to stand at the door and push?’

They didn’t know what had been said to the child. No one had caught it. Whatever it had been, though, it was as if Madison’s fragile shell had been shattered. She was limp and unresponsive in Ginny’s arms and her bravado had disappeared completely. This was the Madison of three weeks ago.

‘I need to take her home,’ Ginny said, and Fergus agreed.

‘I’ll take you.’

‘Sam has the official car at the door,’ Ginny said gently. ‘Fergus, leave us be. Please. We need to start as we mean to go on.’

With Ginny and Madison gone, the wake was over. Fergus’s cellphone rang and it was a woman from Ginny’s antenatal class with a threatened early labour.

‘I’m only twenty-eight weeks,’ she quavered into the phone. ‘Oh, Doctor, we want this baby so much.’

Of course she did, Fergus thought grimly as he climbed into his truck and returned to medicine. Why wouldn’t you want a baby?

Why wouldn’t you want a child?

It was as if the medical needs of the community had been put on hold for the funeral and wake, and now, with it over, the queue was suddenly enormous.

Fergus tried his best to stabilise the young woman and then bailed out, calling in the air ambulance to transport her to Sydney. Maybe his efforts to stop the labour were enough but maybe they weren’t and prem babies had a habit of coming in a hurry. In Sydney a twenty-eight-week baby had a chance. Here there were no facilities for premies.

If we had two doctors here, he thought, but he got no further than that as his phone was running hot. A cow had stood on a foot. A urinary tract infection had suddenly become unbearable. Someone was drunk and drifting in and out of unconsciousness and the local policeman wanted him checked before letting him sleep it off in the cells.

Ginny would have to cope with this alone when he left, he thought as he worked on into the evening. Plus she’d need time with Madison. Madison needed a huge commitment if she was to revert to the little girl she should be.

The vision of her in church stayed with him, a tiny girl who’d held the responsibilities of the world on her shoulders.

What had Oscar said to her to make her disintegrate?

He didn’t go near Oscar. ‘He’s fine,’ Tony told him. ‘Settled back into his bed with a self-satisfied smirk. Why he had it in for that family…’

‘It’s going to be hard for Ginny to have to keep caring for him here,’ Fergus said, and Tony grinned.

‘Yeah, well, there’s a few of us have been thinking… We reckon Oscar’s asthma makes him needful of a nursing home where there’s round-the-clock access to a doctor. This place doesn’t qualify. We need to declare he’s too sick to stay here. A nursing home in Sydney would be much more suitable, wouldn’t you say, Doctor?’

‘What the hell did he say to Madison?’

‘I don’t know,’ Tony admitted, his face growing grim. Then he shrugged. ‘I hope Ginny can defuse it, whatever it was. Meanwhile, mate, there’s another call. Seven-year-old Mathew Torney. He fell out of the top bunk and his mother thinks he’s dislocated his shoulder.’

‘But Ginny…’

‘Some of Richard’s friends were going back to the house,’ Tony said gently. ‘Mate, we can’t do anything there any more. You know that.’

No. A child with a dislocated shoulder. Medicine.

Hell.

It was midnight before Fergus finished work. He walked out of the hospital and hesitated.

He so wanted to go to Ginny.

She’d be exhausted. She hadn’t slept for days.

She wouldn’t need him tonight.

‘But tomorrow,’ he said into the night. ‘Tomorrow, please…’

The call came at two in the morning. He’d been staring at the ceiling and it was as if he’d been expecting it. He lifted the receiver and when he heard Ginny’s voice at the end of the line, maybe it was as if he’d expected that, too.

‘Fergus.’

‘Ginny,’ he said softly. ‘Love.’

‘Fergus, help.’

The tension slammed into him as he heard her fear. He heard her terror.

‘What is it?’

‘I…’

‘Say it,’ he said strongly, ridding his voice of all emotion, making it curt and businesslike. ‘What’s happening?’

‘It’s Madison.’

‘What’s wrong with Madison?’

‘She’s disappeared.’

Five minutes later he pulled up at the farmhouse. Ginny was waiting, standing at the gate, staring hopelessly down the road.

Fergus emerged from his truck and Ginny walked straight into his arms.