The Doctor’s Special Touch

CHAPTER THREE

THE hut they entered was a shock.

She’d forgotten how appalling it could be. Ally walked through the door and the first thing that hit her was the smell.

Smells. Plural.

There were pigs hanging round the yard, and a pile of dung by the door was attracting flies, inside and out. Smoke permeated the room, with the vague smell of hundreds of past meals-not all of them appetising. And human smells.

There was a lot to be said for deodorant, Ally thought grimly as the stench reached out to hit her. Then she amended the thought. No. There was a lot to be said for washing.

The smell was overpowering. And the sensation that the past was closing in on her.

Unaware of the vast wash of remembrance flooding over his companion, Darcy didn’t pause. Clearly he’d been here before. He didn’t knock-there was no door, just a gap in the timber slabs that made the wall.

‘How are they?’ he asked before Ally even had time to get used to the gloom. There was a fire smouldering in the centre of the hut, and smoke was wisping up toward a rough hole in the centre of the roof. Not all of it was escaping.

It looked like something out of the Stone Age, Ally thought, and had to swallow and swallow again as she fought for control. It was just like…just like…

A figure emerged from the gloom, a woman, skirt to the floor, hair braided down her back, dirty and…a little bit desperate? She’d been sitting on one of the benches that ran around the walls, and from under a bundle of blankets came a thin, despairing cry.

A sick child? It was a little girl, Ally decided as her eyes adjusted to the smoke-filled room. The child looked about six or seven. Her face was colourless and her sandy curls were a tangled mat on the hessian sack that served as a pillow.

The woman didn’t greet Darcy. She didn’t look at him. She stood, her shoulders slumped in a stance of absolute despair, and she stared at the floor. ‘Jody’s worse,’ she whispered.

Dear heaven. Ally was almost overwhelmed with disbelief. That this could be happening again…

Darcy was already kneeling by the child. He motioned back toward Ally. ‘This is Ally Westruther,’ he said briefly. ‘A friend.’

The woman lifted her head for a moment to glance apathetically at Ally, and then she stared at the floor again.

‘I can’t make her eat anything.’

‘Is she drinking?’

‘A little.’

‘Have you been doing the fluid chart?’

‘Yes.’ She pulled a tatty piece of paper from her pocket and Darcy studied it with concern.

‘Hell, Margaret, she’s not even close to even fluid balance.’ He lifted the little girl’s wrist, but even from where she was Ally could guess that the pulse would be weak and thready. Sick kids-really sick kids-weren’t the ones that came into Emergency, crying. They were silent and limp and scary.

‘How long’s she been like this?’ she asked, and the woman cast her a distracted glance.

‘Three days now. The other two are a bit better.’

‘That’s something.’ Darcy was putting a thermometer under the little girl’s armpit. ‘You mean they’re eating and drinking again.’

‘Yes. But Marigold’s arm looks really red-she’s been scratching so much we can’t stop it getting infected. She says it hurts under her arm as well, and in her neck.’

‘Hell, you need to let me give antibiotics.’

‘He won’t let us.’

Darcy sat back on his heels. He waited in silence until the thermometer had had time to register.

A chicken wandered in the open door and started to scratch in the dust around the fire.

He lifted the thermometer free and winced.

‘It’s high, isn’t it?’ the woman said, as if it was a foregone conclusion.

‘She’s had high temperatures for almost a week. She’s not getting any fluid on board. Margaret, she must come to hospital.’

‘No. He won’t-’

‘He has to let her come. She needs an intravenous drip to get fluids on board. She needs antibiotics.’

‘Give her fluids here.’

‘You know I can’t. Margaret, look around. There are reasons the kids’ sores are infected.’

‘I can’t help it. We do our best.’

‘I need to see Jerry.’

‘He won’t-’

‘Jerry?’ Ally froze.

‘Jerry’s the head of the community.’ Darcy was totally occupied with the child but he talked to her over his shoulder. ‘There are three women and four men here, but Jerry’s the head.’

‘We do as he says,’ Margaret whispered.

‘Even if it means someone dies?’ Darcy demanded, and the woman gasped. He hadn’t referred to Jody by name but his meaning was unmistakable.

‘No.’

‘It may well happen.’

‘No!’

‘Then let Jody go to hospital. You’re her mother.’

‘Jerry says no. You know he says no.’

‘I’ll have to bring in Social Services.’

‘You know he won’t let them take her. Last time he went into the bush and stayed there. You know what happened then. And even if you report it…’ Her voice broke on a sob. ‘It takes weeks for them to do anything, and when they come he’s so reasonable and he makes them feel like everything’s under control.’

‘It isn’t though, is it, Margaret?’

‘N-no,’ she faltered. ‘But I’m only one. I can’t… The group decides.’

‘Lorraine’s Marigold is sick, too, and she’s just as upset.’

‘Lorraine won’t fight Jerry. Neither will Penny, and David’s sick, too.’

‘You must. You all must.’ But Darcy’s voice was weary, as if he’d had this argument a thousand times before.

But Ally was no longer listening.

She stared down at the sick little girl and she felt like she might explode.

Jerry. Jerome. Jerome was here?

‘Where’s Jerry?’ Ally asked-casually, but her voice was loaded. This whole situation… She might choke, she thought. After all these years.

‘He’s meditating,’ Margaret told her. ‘The men are. Penny and Lorraine are making dinner in the other hut.’

‘The other kids are there?’ Darcy demanded.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll see them.’ Darcy rose. ‘But when I leave I’m taking Jody with me, Margaret.’

‘You can’t.’

‘If I don’t…’ He glanced down at the little girl who was staring up at him with eyes that didn’t seem to be registering. ‘You know what will happen. It’s happened before.’

‘Sam was an accident.’

‘A burn that got infected. That I wasn’t allowed to treat.’

Ally stepped back and gripped one of the wall supports, leaning heavily against it. The room was spinning. She felt sick. Jerome Hatfield. It had to be him. In this place, after all these years.

And a little boy called Sam had died of burns. Dear God, how much more damage had he done?

‘He’s in the far hut?’ she demanded, and the woman looked at her, startled. The fury in her voice was unmistakable.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll talk to him,’ she said, and wheeled.

Darcy caught her before she reached the door. He’d moved like lightning, reaching her to grip her arm and stop her from going further.

‘Leave it,’ he said roughly. ‘I’ll see him.’

‘Yeah, like you’ve done a lot so far.’ She was so angry she didn’t care who heard her fury. ‘A little boy dead? And now Jody. I don’t believe this. Let me go.’

‘You’ll do more harm than good,’ he said urgently. ‘If you threaten him he’ll take himself off to the bush and take his people with him. He’s done it in the past. When Sam died.’

‘And you let it happen?’

‘I didn’t have a choice,’ he told her. ‘They watch the road. When Sam was ill I was so desperate I even called in the police. But they couldn’t find them. And now… It’s taken me ages to persuade Jerry to let me come and treat the kids.’

‘But you let the children stay.’

‘There’s been a Social Services hearing,’ he told her, and she could hear years of frustration in his voice. ‘Margaret loves her kids. Social Services knows that. So do Lorraine and Penny. Jerry’s agreed to let the kids be assessed once a month. Hell, Ally.’

Enough. His hands were tied. She could see that. Focus on Jody. Focus on one child’s needs.

Margaret loved her little girl, she thought, watching the woman’s face. But…did she love Jerry more?

Who could possibly love Jerry?

‘Margaret, you can’t possibly want to stay with Jerry when it’s putting Jody in danger.’ She hesitated and moved to face her. She reached out and gripped her shoulders, forcing her to meet her eyes. ‘You can’t.’

‘You don’t know what he’s like,’ Margaret whispered. ‘I’m his. We’re all his. When Sam died, Penny tried to leave but…she came back. He’d find us.’

‘So you’re scared of him?’

‘Of course we are.’

‘There’s no physical abuse,’ Darcy said from behind her. ‘We went through that after Sam died. Margaret might say this now, but if the authorities come in Jerry will have all their support.’

‘Right.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I do know what he’s like, Margaret. And I can deal with this. I promise.’

‘How the hell?’ Darcy was looking at her as if she was out of her mind.

‘Bring the rest of the kids and the women here,’ she told Margaret. ‘Things are going to change. Right now.’

‘You’ll destroy…’ Margaret looked appalled.

‘No,’ Ally told her. Once upon a time she’d been terrified of Jerry Hatfield herself, but that was going back almost twenty years. No more. And that these women and these kids-probably the men, too-were going through what she’d faced.

‘I’ve waited a long time for this,’ she said. ‘Trust me. I can cope with Jerry Hatfield. Darcy, give me your phone.’

‘What-?’

‘I don’t have a cell phone,’ she told him, as if he were being stupid. ‘I need it.’ Then, as he didn’t react, she stepped forward and lifted it from the clip on his belt.

She started dialling.

And she started walking.

‘If you want to see what a massage therapist can do when she decides to do no harm, come along and watch,’ she told him over her shoulder. ‘But this tragedy will stop right now.’ And she started talking urgently into Darcy’s cell phone.

He followed. He hardly had a choice.

Whatever harm she did…well, it couldn’t be worse than what was happening, he thought. His intention now was to put Jody into his car and take her down to the hospital, facing the consequences later. There would be consequences. To physically remove a child from her parents…

It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. The alternative was Jody’s death, and he wasn’t prepared to have what had happened to Sam happen to another child. Sam’s death had occurred in the first month he’d been in Tambrine Creek and he still felt dreadful that he hadn’t done more. He’d called in the social workers, rather than taking things into his own hands, and it had backfired dreadfully.

But what on earth was Ally about? He watched in stunned amazement as she spoke urgently to someone on the other end of the phone and then stomped furiously across to the neighbouring hut. She was only about five feet one or five feet two. She was slightly built. Her jeans were faded, her shirt had a paint streak down the back and she was wearing flip-flops. Her long blonde hair hung down her back, and it swayed as she walked, accentuating her entire stance of fury.

She looked like David stalking off to face Goliath, he thought, and he quickened his steps to join her.

Should he stop her?

Maybe not, he decided. This situation had reached breaking point. There was no use skirting round the issues at stake, because those issues involved a child’s life.

But what did she know about this? He was under no illusion that her anger was solely caused by one sick child, justified as that was. She’d reacted too fast, too directly.

What had she called Jerry? Jerry Hatfield? The name the group’s leader was using was Jerry Dwyer.

What did Ally know of him?

All he could do was watch. He arrived at the hut door two seconds after Ally did, and by the time he arrived she was already in action.

This was the meditation hut. He’d glanced in here once, but the women had almost seemed afraid of it. ‘We only go in there to clean,’ he’d been told.

The two living huts were putrid but this was lighter and brighter, with a ring of bright candles around the perimeter sending a golden glow over a group of four men kneeling on prayer mats in the centre.

But the glow was fading. Ally was kicking every candle over, pushing its wick into the dust.

She was ignoring the men.

‘What the…?’

Jerry was the first to rise.

The other three men were spineless. Darcy had decided that early in his encounters with the group. Acolytes who didn’t have the courage to stand up to Jerry, they simply did as he said in all things. It was Jerry who called the tune.

Jerry was in his late fifties or early sixties, a huge bull of a man, habitually dressed in a vast purple caftan with his beard and hair falling almost to his waist. He seemed a bit mad, Darcy had decided. His people were afraid of him, and even though there’d been no proven physical abuse, he guessed there was good reason for their fear.

Ally didn’t seem afraid of him, though. She kicked over the last candle and then stalked over to face him.

‘Jerome Hatfield,’ she said in a voice that was rich with loathing. ‘I can’t believe it’s you.’

‘I’m Jerry Dwyer.’ The man was off balance. He obviously didn’t recognise the woman in front of him and he hadn’t a clue what was going on.

He hadn’t noticed Darcy standing by the entrance, and for the moment Darcy was content to merge into the shadows. And wait.

Maybe he should take the child now while Jerry was distracted, he thought, but then…he could hardly abandon Ally. And Margaret would never let him take her surreptitiously. He intended to take Jody, but he’d have to face Jerry as he did it.

‘You’re Jerome Hatfied,’ Ally was saying. ‘Jerry if you like, but it makes no difference. Don’t lie to me.’

‘I have no idea-’

‘You have every idea,’ she spat. ‘I can’t believe you had the nerve to come back here. After all this time. If your father knew…’

‘My father has nothing to do with you,’ Jerry said, in the great booming voice he used so well to intimidate everyone who came within hearing. ‘Get out of my prayer house.’

‘I don’t know who you’re praying to,’ Ally told him, lowering her voice to almost a whisper. It was an incredible contrast to Jerry’s booming vocal, but it was every bit as effective. Just as menacing. ‘But I tell you now. Nobody’s listening. Why would anyone listen to your prayers, Jerome Hatfield, when you don’t even listen to the people around you? When you let children die.’

‘Get out.’

‘You know,’ she said, suddenly switching her attention to the three men still crouched in disbelief on the prayer mats, ‘if I were you guys, I’d get out now. Consorting with a known criminal is an offence all by itself.’

‘I’m not-’

‘Oh, yes, you are.’ She kept the hush to her tone. There was no need to raise her voice. Even the chickens seemed to have stilled to listen. ‘You left this country seventeen years ago, while you were on bail for assault, forgery, bigamy, theft…you name it. You left a trail of destruction in your wake, including two wives. The police tracked you down twelve years ago and found you doing the same thing in the States. But you ran again, before you could be deported. I’d hoped we’d seen the last of you then, but suddenly-guess what? A man called Jerry Dwyer is living on a barren bush block that no one ever comes near. It’s unsaleable land. Your father owns it and you know he’s written it off as unusable. So you come back, pick up another lot of vulnerable people and start all over again.’

‘You don’t know-’

‘Of course I know,’ she said wearily. ‘Do you think I’m stupid? I’m Ally Westruther but, like you, I’ve changed my surname. Try Ally Lindford for size.’

‘Lindford.’

‘That’s right,’ she said, almost pleasantly. ‘Tony Lindford’s daughter.’

He stared as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘Tony’s… You’re Ally?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Tony’s dead.’

‘Of course he’s dead,’ she agreed, almost cordially. ‘You don’t care about that, though, do you? Like you didn’t care about my mother and like you didn’t care about any of your people. You’re a liar and a sham.’

He took a deep breath. Searching for control. ‘Get out of my house,’ he boomed.

She ignored him. ‘This man…’ she said, almost conversationally, and Darcy was suddenly aware that there was a cluster of women and children behind him. ‘This man sucks people for everything he can get. Don’t tell me. Let me guess. This man will have control of all your pension books. You’ll all have been on pensions when he met you. That’s why he chose you. He’ll give you nothing. You’ll be half-starving, you’ll work like slaves for him and he’ll never be pleased. He’ll control every aspect of your lives and he’ll never let go. Ever.’

‘These people want to be here,’ Jerry snarled, and Ally gave him a look that would curdle milk.

‘These people have been so brainwashed they don’t know any better. You prey on desperate people when they’re at their weakest. But there is better. There’s welfare services where we can get everyone emergency accommodation. There’s free medical treatment for the kids.’ She motioned down to one of the men and her voice softened. ‘As for you, that’s a skin cancer on your face. If you don’t get it off soon, it’ll be so deep that you’ll be scarred for life. Even now I’d imagine you must be in dreadful pain. You desperately need a skin graft.’

The man put a hand to the side of his head. The wound looked angry and inflamed-incredibly painful.

‘I’ve told him-’ Darcy started, but she cut him off.

‘It doesn’t matter what you told him,’ she said. ‘No one can listen. Not when Jerry overrules everything you say. He’s blocked their ears. But you all need to listen now.’

‘Get out!’ The big man was practically screaming, and he made as if to lunge at Ally. Darcy took a step toward her, but she sidestepped neatly-as if she’d done it many times before?-then turned again to face Jerry.

‘I was deathly afraid of you,’ she told him. ‘Once. But I escaped. And now you all can. This man is nothing but a liar and a thief and a con merchant. And if you listen you might be able to hear a car in the distance. It’s the police. They’re coming, Jerry. I just phoned them. You have outstanding warrants in at least two countries. I’ve contacted them and told them where you are. They’re coming to arrest you right now.’

‘I…’ He was almost speechless. He whirled to his men. ‘Get up. Move!’ Then to the women. ‘Move, now. Out the back way. We can leave.’

‘But I know where all your caves are, Jerry,’ Ally told him, almost pleasantly. ‘They’re a great labyrinth to hide in, but not if the searchers know the way. So you can go where you like and I’ll send the police after you. But as for the rest of you…’ She softened again and faced them all. ‘I know what this man is like,’ she told them. ‘I can help. Believe me, I can help, and so will Dr Rochester. Your kids are ill. You know that. You’re ill yourselves. If you trust us, stay here and let us help. Or trust Jerry as you’ve trusted him for years and see where that gets you.’

Silence.

‘Come on,’ Jerry yelled. He swept toward the entrance. There was a pile of firewood in his way and he gave it a vicious kick. A branch swung out and hit Ally’s foot-hard-but she appeared not to notice. Darcy started forward instinctively but she held up a hand as if to stop him.

‘Let him go,’ she told him. She looked at Jerry with contempt. ‘It’s not worth our while trying to stop him. He won’t get far. Not now. It’s over.’

Jerry swore.

Ally smiled and moved aside to let him leave. ‘Bye, Jerome,’ she said softly. ‘See you soon.’

He stared at her for a long, speechless moment-and then he was gone, with a sweep of purple cloth and trailing a string of invective after him.

No one moved. Finally one of the men on the floor gave a frightened whimper and scuttled after him.

Nobody else followed.

By the time the first police car turned into the clearing, Jerry and his one faithful acolyte had left on foot, heading into the bushland behind the huts. But the others were clustered around in a terrified huddle, and at the centre of the huddle was Ally.

Darcy couldn’t help. He was forced to focus on medical need. Jody needed him desperately. He set up a saline drip within minutes of Jerry leaving. Margaret was too confused to argue and there was no time for further discussion. He worked over Jody as Margaret darted between her daughter’s bedside and the group outside.

She was crying, but by the time Darcy was content to leave Jody’s bedside she was calming down.

Everyone was calming down.

It seemed Ally was in control.

When he emerged from the hut where Jody lay, Ally was giving the police specific directions as to where Jerry would be-and reasons why they should arrest him when they found him. The reasons made him blink in disbelief. She knew everything about Jerry. Every criminal charge that had ever been made against him. Outstanding warrants. Crimes committed overseas. Everything. And she was intent on throwing the book at him.

‘I don’t believe you just did that,’ he told Ally faintly as she finally fell silent, and Ally grinned in faint embarrassment.

‘Massage therapists rock,’ she managed. ‘Go get a drip into Jody.’

‘I’ve started a drip.’

‘There’s two more kids to attend to.’

‘Thank you, Dr Westruther,’ he told her, and her grin widened at the irony in his tone.

‘Think nothing of it,’ she said kindly. ‘Well? What are you waiting for? Off you go. I can handle the rest.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Are you OK here, Doc?’ Sergeant Matheson, a big beefy police sergeant who’d been transferred to Tambrine Creek almost at the same time as Darcy had arrived, was looking from Ally to Darcy with confusion. ‘If what Ally says is right then we need to get this guy.’

Darcy looked around at the huddle of confused people. There was fear here and there was urgent medical need, but nothing he couldn’t cope with. Nothing. And the thought was suddenly wonderful. Without Jerry’s poisonous influence he could help these people, he thought jubilantly. Finally he could do some good.

Thanks to this slip of a girl.

‘If I were you I’d assume what Ally says is right,’ he told the policeman. ‘I have no idea how or why, but suddenly our massage therapist has all the answers.’

The next few hours were filled with pure medical need.

Darcy phoned the hospital and brought up reinforcements. Betty, his receptionist-cum-nursing-sister, arrived first, followed by another local nurse to assist with the kids who were ill. The social worker was hauled away from a conference at the nearest big town, and the supervisor of the marine refuge came, too. Because Tambrine Creek was the southernmost harbour for Tasmanian shipping, the town was set up with a marine refuge-emergency accommodation for sailors who needed to run for cover in foul weather. This wasn’t the first time Darcy had used it for family crises.

But he himself had to focus on Jody. Regardless of the chaos, as soon as Betty arrived he had to take the child down to the hospital. She’d been dehydrated for so long. He was desperately worried about her.

He left the settlement, torn by his need to stay, but Ally was moving through the confusion with assurance. She was reassuring, hugging and talking to everyone and generally acting as if she was almost one of them.

‘Don’t worry about me getting back to town,’ she told him as he lifted Jody into the back of his car and helped Margaret in after her. ‘I’ll get a lift with the police when I’m ready.’

‘The police won’t leave until they find Jerry.’ The police sergeant had called in reinforcements and there were half a dozen officers treking through the bush now.

‘That’s right,’ Ally said in quiet satisfaction. ‘They won’t. But neither will I. I’ve given them directions where to go, and I intend to wait here until he’s arrested. Even if I have to go in and hunt myself.’

She smiled.

Why the smile? There were so many unanswered questions, but there was no time to ask them. He had to go.

Betty followed him to the hospital an hour later, bringing the other two children he’d been concerned about. Four-year-old Marigold had a suppurating wound on her arm, with the nodes in her neck and armpit affected. David, aged seven, was running a temperature that had Betty worried. Surprisingly, the kids came without their mothers.

‘Ally’s organising Penny and Lorraine and the rest of the kids into the refuge,’ Betty told him. ‘But she persuaded Lorraine and Penny that you and I would look after these two.’ She smiled. ‘You should have heard the nice things she said about you as a doctor. It’d make you blush. Especially after all those rotten things you said about her.’

‘Enough,’ Darcy growled. Hell, she knew how to make a man feel bad. ‘Let’s get these kids seen to.’

Surprisingly, the kids were compliant and almost cheerful as they were washed and fed and tucked into bed. There was nothing wrong with them that fluids and a good dose of antibiotics wouldn’t clear up, Darcy thought in satisfaction as he watched Marigold drift into sleep. The kids were supervised now by a nurse who looked as pleased by the outcome of the afternoon’s events as Darcy felt. It was little wonder. The whole township had been disturbed by the group living up on the ridge but until now there had been nothing anyone had been able to do about it. Until now.

Until Ally.

As they cleaned up, Betty told him what had happened.

‘Ally gave the police directions to the caves and they found him almost straightaway,’ she told him. ‘And while I was there, Sergeant Matheson got confirmation of what Ally had told him. It was radioed through from the city. Ally’s right. There are outstanding warrants everywhere.’

‘Why didn’t we know?’

‘No one knew it was him. I knew Jerome Hatfield when he was a child, but I’ve never heard of him since he was fifteen or sixteen. No one knew about the caves either. Apparently even the women didn’t know the caves were there. I’ve never heard of them.’

Betty had been raised here in Tambrine Creek. She knew everything that happened to everyone.

‘Then how did Ally know all this?’

‘Don’t ask me,’ she told him. ‘But we have three kids safe in the kids’ ward. How good is that? Is Margaret still here?’

‘We offered her a hot shower before we put her to bed next to Jody,’ Darcy told her. ‘She stood under the shower like she’d never felt hot water before. When she got out, the nurses said she almost toppled over, and she was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillows. She’s been desperately worried about Jody for so long. Now they’re both dead to the world. Jody’s drip is running well, and her colour’s starting to improve already.’

‘They’re all dreadfully emaciated,’ Betty said seriously. ‘It’s no wonder the chickenpox hit hard.’

‘The rest are at the refuge?’ Darcy asked.

‘Yeah. Ally’s with them now.’

‘Ally…’

‘She helped me assess the kids,’ Betty told him. ‘She’s really good.’

‘I thought the social worker was helping.’

‘Elsa’s fine at what she does,’ Betty said diffidently. ‘But as for helping holding a kid down while I check his temperature…’

‘You had to do that?’

‘Marigold tried to bite me,’ she said ruefully. ‘They’re like wild kittens. But Ally was terrific.’

He looked down at the two children lying in bed like two little angels. Marigold had drifted to sleep, her little body exhausted by infection, but David was watching them with eyes that practically enveloped his face.

Wild kittens? Scared maybe, but not wild.

‘It’s OK,’ Darcy told him, giving him a reassuring smile. ‘You know that, don’t you, mate? Your mother’s being looked after and you’ll see her in the morning.’

David nodded, as if this had already been discussed. ‘Ally said she was going to make Mum have a hot shower and toasted sandwiches. And Ally said that if I came here with Betty, and let you wash me and put me to bed and look after me, then I’d be able to have toasted sandwiches whenever I want. And she said you could get me something called a thick-shake that’s chocolate but you drink it. She said you were a doctor who gave people the best thick-shakes ever.’

How to make a wild kitten compliant? Chocolate thick-shakes. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of that? ‘Betty, can we get the kid a thick-shake?’ Darcy asked in a voice that was none too steady. ‘And maybe another one in case Marigold wakes up in the night. It seems she’s been promised one, too.’

‘Thick-shakes?’

‘From Beryl’s general store,’ he told her. ‘Tell Beryl to make it just like the one she made for Ally.’

‘OK,’ Betty said, with a curious look at her boss. ‘If you say so.’

‘I didn’t say so,’ he said ruefully. ‘Ally said so.’ He gave David a grin and then turned to the next need. The next medical imperative.

‘I still have house calls to make,’ he told her. Damn, he wanted to go to the refuge, but he had conflicting needs. ‘I can put most of them off but not Mrs Lewis.’

Marilyn Lewis lived alone and he was worried about her. She’d had two minor heart attacks before this. By rights she should have had bypass surgery two years ago but she refused to consider it. Because she was terrified. But heart pain by itself was enough to terrify her. Now he’d promised he’d call. She’d be desperately worried about herself and if he didn’t make it there tonight, maybe she’d even be terrified enough to bring on another attack.

‘Maybe I can get someone to check,’ Betty said doubtfully. ‘But…’

‘I know. With four extra patients we don’t have spare staff. I need to go myself.’

‘But you should check the refuge. Ally said you’d come in and tell the other two mothers how these two are. And the guy with the sore face… Ally told him you’d talk to him about it tonight.’

‘She takes a lot on herself,’ he snapped, and she nodded. Thoughtfully.

‘She does.’ She ventured a wry smile. ‘I guess she had no right getting Jerry arrested like that.’

‘I didn’t mean-’

‘I know you didn’t,’ she said cheerfully. ‘But I guess if we’re pleased she’s done that, then we’d better go along with the rest. There’s no need to rush to the refuge straightaway. She has things under control.’

‘How can she possibly have things under control?’ he demanded, suddenly so exasperated he couldn’t believe it. ‘We don’t even know who Ally Westruther is.’

‘She’s Dr Westruther’s grandkid. Of course we know who she is.’

‘She says she’s a Dr Westruther herself.’

‘Well, you know, I wouldn’t be the least surprised if she turned out to be just that,’ Betty said thoughtfully. ‘She handled the kids like a professional.’

‘Yeah, a professional masseuse.’

‘Get off your high horse,’ she advised him kindly. ‘She’s doing a fine job, whatever her qualifications. You just do what you have to do, and trust that Ally will have things under control. She’s quite a lady.’

‘Yeah. Right.’

He did go and see Marilyn Lewis. With Betty’s assurance that things at the refuge were under control, he adjusted his priorities, but there was still Marilyn. Damn the woman, why wouldn’t she agree to a bypass? Her neighbour had rung Darcy earlier to say she was looking distressed. Darcy had rung her and offered to send the ambulance, but Marilyn had refused.

‘There’s no way I’m going to hospital. It’s just a little chest pain and I’m used to chest pain. There’s always chest pain.’

‘Janet says you’re sweating.’

‘It’s warm.’

‘Marilyn…’

‘I’m fine,’ she’d told him. ‘If you’d care to drop in after work and have a cup of tea, you’d be very welcome, but there’s no need to fuss.’

There was a need for fuss. If Jody’s need up on the ridge hadn’t been even more urgent, he would have seen her hours ago.

She’d have to go to hospital, he thought grimly, and spent his time on the road trying to figure out how to persuade her.

There was no persuasion necessary. When Marilyn finally admitted him into the house he discovered that she’d spent her waiting time packing her suitcase.

‘I thought you’d never get here,’ she told him. She was little and fussy and prim, dressed in a bright pink dressing-gown and pale blue slippers, and her Marilyn Monroe hairstyle looked just a little ridiculous on someone well into her sixties. ‘I could have died,’ she said in some indignation.

He eyed her with caution. ‘Are you thinking of dying?’

‘I have really bad chest pains.’

‘Can I listen to your heart?’

‘When you get me to hospital.’

He thought about that and decided it was worth pushing for the next level. ‘Can I send you straight to Melbourne for a bypass?’

‘Of course not,’ she said in some indignation. ‘Don’t be foolish. But tell me all the news. You’ve had such an exciting afternoon. It’s all over town. I knew there was something wrong with those people. I knew it. And now I hear you have those three little kiddies in hospital and one of their mothers, too. And one of the men has such a wound on his face. He’ll be in there soon, too, I expect.’

The suitcase was thus explained, and Darcy had to fight to stop himself from breaking into a chuckle. Marilyn might be terrified of medical intervention, but her priority was to be where the action was. Her previous visits to hospital had been boring affairs when there’d been no interesting fellow patients. But now…if she was admitted she’d be in the middle of news.

Still, there was no doubting that she was frightened about her chest pain, Darcy thought, watching her wince a little as she talked. He stopped her from heaving the suitcase off her bed, and made her sit while he listened to her chest and took her blood pressure. It was erratic enough for him to think maybe the excitement of the afternoon had been a blessing. She needed to be admitted, and if that was what it took…

‘OK. A couple of days’ bed rest while we get the angina under control will suit you fine,’ he told her. ‘Dr Harper will be here on Thursday and I’ll get him to see you.’ Ross Harper was a visiting cardiologist and he’d treated Marilyn before.

‘That will be very nice, dear,’ Marilyn said serenely. ‘And do you know what else I want to do while I’m in your hospital?’

‘What?’

‘I want to have a nice little massage. I’ve heard our Ally is wonderful. Do you think she’d do hospital visits?’

He practically choked. Massage visits…

‘I can’t see why she wouldn’t,’ Marilyn added, serenely confident that her plan would go ahead. ‘Can you?’

‘Um…’ Think of a reason, he told himself desperately. ‘I haven’t had her professional qualifications checked.’

‘Do you think she’s a liar?’ Marilyn sounded shocked, and he had to bite his tongue.

‘No,’ he said shortly as he helped her into his car. ‘I don’t.’ There was silence for a bit as he drove but he was sure Marilyn had been a glorious gossip all her life. Maybe…

‘Do you know someone called Gareth Hatfield?’ he asked her.

‘Oh, no, dear.’ Marilyn nestled back on the sumptuous leather and sighed with pleasure. One of the reasons he’d bought this car had been that his patients loved it. Sure, there was an ambulance for transporting patients but it was an ancient battered truck. If possible, most of his patients elected to use Darcy’s free Mercedes service.

Did she know Gareth Hatfield?

‘Not any more,’ she told him.

‘But you did once?’

‘He was a few years older than I was. Not a very nice man, dear. He owned so much land around here and he made such a profit selling it to those who’d leased it from him for years and years. No. Not a nice man. He never lived here-he just used to come and harass people into paying more than they could afford. And then that boy of his…he was a bad lot.’

‘Jerry?’

‘Jerome. He lived with his mother, and as far as I know he hardly ever came here, but when he did-ooh, he was a nasty little boy. His father used to come to check on his properties, and while he and the bank manager discussed how much they could make from the locals, Jerome would swagger round as if he owned the place. I seem to remember he and Ally’s father were friends for a while-or Jerry ordered and Tony followed-but that came to nothing. They were worlds apart.’

Friends? Jerry and Ally’s father had been friends?

There were so many unanswered questions.

But there was no time to think of the answers. For the next thirty minutes Darcy had to force himself to concentrate purely on medicine. He had to force himself to treat Marilyn as she needed to be treated-as someone who was in real danger of coronary disaster.

But the questions stayed in the back of his mind. There was so much he wanted to know.

Dr Ally Westruther…

He knew so little, but the more he found out, the more he wanted to discover.