Suddenly Single Sophie

He dragged his mind back to the task in hand. Sophie looked uncomfortable.

‘I, um, owe you an apology.’

Now, that was something he hadn’t expected.

A lock of Sophie’s thick red-brown hair escaped from the clasp holding it in place, and as she tucked it behind her ear Will noticed an almost imperceptible tremor in her fingers

‘An apology?’

She folded her arms across her chest.

‘You must be wondering why I’m dressed like this.’

Yes, of course he was, but he didn’t want to draw attention to her relaxed dress code. Well, not until he’d confirmed her commitment.

‘I take it you’re planning to wear something a little more conservative …’ less provocative was another description that came to mind ‘… to work.’

Rosy colour swept into her neck and flooded her face.

‘I’m sorry,’ Will said, although he wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to make her blush.

She took a deep breath.

‘My plane was delayed so I didn’t get here until this morning. Then it took another hour and a half for the airline to verify that my luggage had been mislaid. And the taxi driver who drove me to Wellesley to collect my car hardly spoke a word of English. So even if I’d had time to change—’

He’d heard enough, and doubted she could fabricate such an elaborate combination of misadventures. He understood why she had faint dark shadows under her eyes. She most likely needed rest rather than a grilling from him.

‘Ah … I see. You’ve not had the best introduction to the west. You must be exhausted.’ He thought of a dozen questions he wanted to ask but they would just have to wait. After all, he’d told her on the phone the job was hers and all he needed to do was discuss her duties, finalise her hours and sort out the paperwork.

‘The interview is a formality, really. It’s basically so we can introduce ourselves. You can ask me any questions about the work, the practice, anything you’d like to know, before you start next week.’

She leaned towards him, interlocked her fingers and placed her hands on his desk. The pose struck him as being assertive without being arrogant. Her anxiety seemed to have vanished.

Maybe she would be okay dealing with some of the rougher elements that were inevitably part of his practice.

‘I’m looking forward to it,’ she said. ‘I haven’t got any questions.’

‘Great.’ The interview was going well but there was one more thing he had to discuss and he didn’t want to put pressure on her. ‘We haven’t talked about how long you’re prepared to work here. I realise you’re not planning on staying long term, but even a few weeks will be a great help to me.’ He thought of the long-lost luxury of spare time. ‘Does a period of six to eight weeks sound agreeable?’ That would let him at least get the ball rolling with a time-consuming task he wasn’t looking forward to—organising fundraising for the community centre. ‘With the option of staying longer, of course.’ He sent her what he hoped was a charismatic smile.

‘That would suit me fine,’ she said with a look that suggested relief.

At that moment Caitlyn appeared, cheerful as ever, with two steaming cups and a plate of biscuits.

‘Thanks, Caitlyn.’

‘That’s okay, Dr Brent.’ The girl cleared a space on Will’s desk by pushing a jumble of referral pads to one side. She set down the cups.

‘No problem. Have a good weekend.’ She paused. ‘Oh, and you told me to remind you about the home visit to Mrs Farris.’

‘Thanks, I hadn’t forgotten. See you next week.’

Six weeks was perfect, Sophie thought as she reached for one of the mugs filled with coffee she now felt sufficiently relaxed to drink. It was long enough to make her father understand she wasn’t going to run back home after a week or two. She also thought of Jeremy and reminded herself she wanted to get as far away from him and his new girlfriend as possible, at least until the gossip died down.

And then she thought of Will Brent. How easy it was to like and admire him. She suspected he was close to burn-out and hoped she could give him the break he deserved. She felt certain she could learn a lot from him.

‘Would you like a biscuit?’ Will Brent’s voice snapped her out of her reverie, but before she had a chance to reply there was a loud thumping on the front door.

‘Is anyone there?’ A man’s voice boomed loud and urgent. ‘Doc Brent, I need a doctor quick!’

There was no doubt about the genuine distress he conveyed and Will was out of his seat in an instant. He grabbed a large bunch of keys from a desk drawer, glanced briefly at Sophie with an expression that invited her to follow and headed towards the front of the building.

Through the frosted glass panels of the door Sophie could make out the dark shape of a man who appeared to be carrying a child.

Will opened the door and a stocky man wearing full football kit, including boots, stumbled in. A boy of about four or five, dressed in an almost identical outfit, lay limp and wheezing in his arms.

‘Thank God you’re still here.’

The child opened his eyes but barely had the energy to whimper as Will took him gently from the man Sophie assumed was his father.

‘How long’s he been like this, Steve?’ Will voiced his first question with just the right mix of authority and empathy. He obviously knew the pair and was leading them past the reception desk into a well-equipped treatment room. He laid the child down, adjusted the examination couch so the boy was sitting and placed an oximeter on his finger.

‘No more than fifteen minutes. Jake was with me mates at the oval, watching the game, and they called me off the field.’ The man pulled down his son’s sock to reveal an angry red swelling just above his ankle. Sophie could see similar, smaller lesions on his arms.

‘Bee sting,’ he added, as if that explained everything. ‘We know he’s allergic, but the worst he’s had in the past has been a rash.’ He took a sharp intake of breath. ‘He’s never been this bad. It came on real quick. He can hardly breathe. We were going to the hospital but I saw your car—’

Steve was close to tears and began hyperventilating.

The last thing they needed in a situation where the boy should command Will’s full attention was to have to deal with the father’s panic attack as well.

Sophie felt her own tension climbing. The child was barely conscious and his breathing was becoming more laboured as each second passed. Will appeared remarkably calm.

‘Sit down, Steve,’ Will said coolly but firmly. ‘Jake’s going to be fine but I need to check him over.’ He glanced in Sophie’s direction. ‘Can you organise a paediatric mask with high-flow oxygen?’ He pointed to an emergency trolley next to an oxygen cylinder. Everything—medications, procedure packs, resuscitation equipment—was all labelled clearly and easy to find. ‘And draw up …’ He paused for a moment, calculating the crucial dose of lifesaving medication based on the boy’s estimated weight. ‘Point two of adrenaline for intramuscular injection.’

‘Do you want nebulised adrenaline as well?’ Sophie asked, trying to think ahead. She’d rarely treated emergencies in her father’s practice but remembered the protocol from her hospital work. ‘And an IV set?’ she added as she positioned the mask on Jake’s pale little face.

Will nodded. He worked incredibly quickly but gave the impression he was taking one quiet step at a time. Sophie drew up the medication, double-checked the dose and handed it to Will, who jabbed the needle into the boy’s upper thigh so rapidly he hardly had time to respond. She could feel the tension decreasing in the room at about the same rate as the dusky grey colour in Jake’s swollen lips began to turn the lightest shade of pink.

Will looked at the small device that measured oxygen levels in the blood. ‘Ninety-four per cent,’ he said as he placed a stethoscope on the little boy’s chest and then checked his airway. The wheezing eased a little, but the movement of the muscles in Jake’s abdomen and neck suggested he still had to work hard to get air in and out. Fortunately the risk of his larynx closing over completely had passed.

Will inserted an IV line while Sophie set up the nebuliser and together they stabilised the five-year-old to the point where Will had time to talk to Steve. He pulled up a chair opposite him.

‘Jake’s over the worst, Steve, but he’s not out of the woods yet. He needs monitoring in hospital and I’m going to call an ambulance. He also needs blood tests and will probably go home with an EpiPen, possibly an asthma puffer as well. Do you know what an EpiPen is?’

‘Yeah, I think you told us about it the first time Jake was stung. It’s the injection you keep with you all the time, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Do you want me to ring the ambulance?’ Sophie offered.

‘Thanks, the local number is on the wall above the phone,’ Will said with a grateful smile. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

A short time later, while the adults sat drinking coffee, crisis over, waiting for the ambulance, Jake slowly and steadily improved. Sophie marvelled at how composed Will was as he chatted to Steve.

‘Daddy,’ Jake said suddenly in a clear, loud voice as he pulled off the mask and frowned. All eyes turned towards him.

‘What’s the matter?’ Steve said, a look of panic returning to his face.

‘That goal you kicked … just before three-quarter time.’

The adults exchanged glances and Steve smiled for the first time since he’d arrived.

‘Yeah, what about it?’

‘It was awesome.’

Steve grinned with obvious pride and Will chuckled.

‘You think so?’

Jake took a couple of rapid breaths as he raised his hand for a high five with his father. ‘The best.’

The ambulance arrived a few minutes later and after it had left with its two passengers, Will turned to Sophie.

‘That was an impromptu example of general practice in Prevely Springs. Think you can handle it?’

Coping with the work wasn’t a problem for Sophie. She was looking forward to the challenge. The predicament she faced was how she was going uphold her promise, the vow she’d confidently uttered when she and her best friend had made a toast to her new life … without the complication of men.

She had the feeling it wasn’t going to be easy.

‘I’ll give it my best shot,’ she said.

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER the ambulance left, Sophie experienced a satisfaction she hadn’t felt since working in the emergency department as a raw, idealistic intern. She had no doubt in her mind that Will had, calmly, without fuss or wanting any praise, saved young Jake’s life.

And she had been part of it.

‘Do you deal with many emergencies?’ she asked as she brought two mugs of fresh coffee into the treatment room where Will was tidying up.

He took one of the mugs and smiled.

‘About one or two a week.’

‘Across the full spectrum?’

Sophie perched herself on the examination couch and Will sat in the seat recently vacated by Jake’s father.

‘Pretty well. There’s probably more than the norm of physical violence, drug overdoses, that kind of thing. The clinic operates a little like a country outpost, without the problem of distance and isolation. I do my best to stabilise patients who need hospital care before sending them on.’

Sophie thought of how different it was from her father’s practice.

‘Where I worked in Sydney, the patients are more likely to ring the ambulance first in life-threatening situations … To save time.’

Will’s dark eyes clouded and he looked past Sophie into the distance before he refocused.

‘A lot of my patients have had bad experiences with hospitals, and doctors who don’t know them. And I don’t blame the hospital staff making judgements on appearances. We all do it …’

The appraisal took only a second or two but Sophie felt Will’s gaze flick from her high-heel-clad feet to the top of her tousled head, taking in everything in between. She suddenly became self-conscious about her appearance and the impression she’d made when he’d first seen her.

Before Sophie could think of a reply, Will had downed the last of his coffee and stood, stuffing his stethoscope into his pocket. He looked impatient to leave.

‘I’ll take you round to the flat. It’s nothing flash but is clean, has the basics and is about twenty minutes’ drive from here.’

Will’s sudden change of subject didn’t go unnoticed by Sophie, and she guessed her boss was just as tired as she was.

‘Not in Prevely Springs?’ She’d assumed she’d be staying closer to Will’s clinic.

‘No, Sabiston’s the name of the suburb. I thought …’ He hesitated.

‘Yes? You thought?’

‘It’s a more … upmarket suburb than the Springs.’

More like what she was used to …

He smiled, a fleeting indication that he genuinely cared about her welfare, and it occurred to her how easily she could fall for this gentle, softly spoken, work-weary man. He was everything her cocky, self-absorbed ex wasn’t.

No! Get a grip of yourself.

She hardly knew the man and it was way too soon. The painful sting of shame was still fresh in her memory and she didn’t want to risk going through the indignity again.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll manage,’ Sophie said.

‘I hope so.’ He took his keys from his pocket. ‘There’s just one thing more, before we go to the flat.’

‘Yes?’

‘I need to make a quick house call. A woman with pancreatic cancer. I’m sure it won’t take long. She only lives around the corner.’

Another surprise. Will did house calls … after hours … on top of what she calculated to be more than a sixty-hour working week.

‘You’ll like Bella Farris,’ he added.

‘And … well … the sooner I start, the harder it will be to chicken out.’

Sophie was determined to prove to her new employer she was prepared to tackle working in Prevely Springs head on.

Will knocked on the door of the tidiest townhouse in a shabby block of six and went straight inside without waiting for an answer. Sophie followed close behind, scanning the interior as she entered. The front door opened directly into a cramped living-dining area with a kitchen at the back. A boy of about thirteen or fourteen sat in front of a television screen connected to a games machine. He was overweight, pale, and his eyes didn’t leave the screen. A couple of empty fast-food containers lay abandoned on the floor beside him.

‘Hi, Brad. Is your mum upstairs in the bedroom?’ Will’s tone was cheerful and undemanding.

‘Yeah.’

‘How is she?’

‘Same.’ The boy’s gaze left the screen, flicked to Will, hovered on Sophie for a second and then returned to the noisy, animated action on the screen. ‘Aw, hell!’ the boy added when some bloody tragedy terminated another of his virtual lives.

‘Dr Carmichael and I will go up and see her, then.’

‘Mmm.’

Sophie followed Will up the narrow concrete stairs, vestiges of mud-brown fibres the only indication they had once been carpeted.

‘Bella, it’s Will,’ he called as he reached the dimly lit passage at the top of the stairs.

‘In the bedroom.’ The thin voice came from the only upstairs room with the door open. ‘Come through.’

Sophie followed Will into a sparsely furnished room with a single small window overlooking a weedy back yard.

This family was struggling in more ways than one, Sophie thought as she smiled and nodded, acknowledging the woman propped up in a narrow bed near the window. Her spindle-like arms protruded from the bed cover and rested on her swollen abdomen. Her sighing breaths came irregularly.

‘You’ve finally brought your girlfriend to meet me, have you, Dr Brent? About time too.’ The woman smiled and a hint of colour advanced then rapidly retreated from Will’s cheeks. She looked at Sophie and took a couple of deep breaths. Even talking appeared to be an effort for her. ‘I told Will I wasn’t going to leave this earth until he found a woman to replace me. He needs looking after.’

‘Enough of your cheek, Bella.’ Will put his medical bag down on the small table in a corner and sat on the end of her bed. ‘This isn’t my girlfriend. And you know that threat isn’t going to work because you’re not ready yet. Remember our little chat last week?’

He glanced over at Sophie, who was beginning to feel she was intruding in the relationship between these two people who were as close as a doctor and patient could be. Bella smiled with her eyes but her mouth remained in a grim line, suggesting she was in more pain than she let on.

‘Who is she, then?’

‘Dr Sophie Carmichael. She arrived this morning from Sydney to join the practice for a few weeks. Do you mind her sitting in?’

A look of disbelief flashed across Bella’s face, as if the last thing she’d expected was for Sophie to be a doctor.

‘Well, good for you, Sophie Carmichael.’ She turned her head slightly to address Will. ‘Of course I don’t mind. Two heads are better than one.’ She made a move to reposition herself on the pile of pillows behind her head, then grimaced and seemed to change her mind. ‘You make sure you look after her and she might even stay more than a few weeks.’ She turned to Sophie. ‘Once you get to know him, he’s not as bad as—’

‘Enough, Bella. This isn’t a social visit.’

Bella fixed her gaze back on Will and elevated an eyebrow. ‘Of course not.’

‘So what’s been happening? How can I help?’

‘Shelley insisted on calling you just to check. She thinks it’s a blockage. I’ve not had a bowel movement for four days and I’ve got a new pain.’ She pointed in the vague direction of her navel. ‘And the nausea’s a bit worse.’

Will got up and retrieved a file from the table where he’d left his bag and then returned to Bella’s bedside. He looked across at Sophie. ‘Shelley’s one of the palliative care nurses.’ He turned a couple of pages of the file Sophie assumed contained the nurse’s notes. ‘Your morphine dose has gone up in the last few days.’

‘I vomited a couple of doses of the liquid yesterday and had to increase my night-time tablet.’

‘What are you eating?’

‘Not much.’

‘How about fluids?’ Will didn’t labour the point.

‘I’m keeping down a bit of water.’

Sophie admired Bella’s uncomplaining courage, and as she watched Will examine his patient with large, gentle hands she felt admiration for him too.

‘Well, what’s the verdict?’ Bella said when he’d finally finished. ‘No beating around the bush.’

‘I’m fairly sure the tumour is pressing on part of your intestine, causing a partial blockage.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means your food and drinks are passing through very slowly. It’s probably why your pain and nausea are worse.’

‘Oh.’

Sophie could see the stoic acceptance on Bella’s face. She seemed to sense she didn’t have long to live and trusted Will to do what he felt was best to make her last few weeks comfortable.

‘I’ll contact Shelley and ask her to organise for you to have your morphine by injection.’ He went on to explain the device that would deliver a steady dose of the analgesic via a needle inserted into the fatty layer under the skin and a gadget called a syringe driver. It would overcome her problem of vomiting oral medication. ‘One of the nurses reloads the medication daily. We can also mix in other drugs if needed, like an anti-emetic for nausea.’

Bella looked exhausted. ‘Shelley said she’d come back this afternoon after you’d been.’

‘Good. She can set up the pump. I’ll also ask her to collect some dexamethasone from the pharmacy. If there’s any swelling due to inflammation in the intestine, it should reduce it and might ease the blockage. It should help with the nausea too.’

‘Okay. Best you two get on with enjoying the rest of your weekend.’ Bella seemed to muster a last ounce of energy to wink and then she closed her eyes and sighed. ‘Go on, then.’

Will and Sophie exchanged glances.

‘I’ll call in again Monday, Bella.’

The patient was breathing slowly. She appeared to be asleep, so the two doctors quietly left the room. Will made a quick phone call to Shelley before they went downstairs.

‘Bye, Brad,’ Sophie called as they let themselves out the front door.

The boy acknowledged their departure with a grunt and continued his game.

‘How is Brad coping with his mother’s illness?’ Sophie asked as she buckled her seat belt in the passenger seat of Will’s roomy old car.

‘I don’t think he is.’ Will sighed and started the engine. ‘I’ve tried to talk to him but he seems to have shut everyone out—including his mother. Bella worried about him at the beginning of her illness—she was diagnosed with cancer a week after Brad’s fourteenth birthday—but she doesn’t talk about him now. I think it upsets her that she can’t give him the support she wishes she could. She told me a while back she’d run out of emotional energy.’

A painful mix of sadness and helplessness churned in Sophie’s gut. The combination of poverty, illness and social isolation had delivered a cruel blow to this family. It wasn’t fair.

‘Isn’t there anything more that can be done for Bella?’

‘What do you mean?’ Will frowned.

‘She needs twenty-four-hour care … It’s not fair on her son. There must be somewhere like a hospice … In Sydney—’

Will’s grimace deepened.

‘We’re not in Sydney.’

Her boss seemed to want to wind up the conversation, but Sophie was determined to have her say.

‘Isn’t there residential care for the terminally ill here?’

Will began to back out into the street but braked at the kerb as a car sped past, the young driver going way too fast. He put the gearstick in neutral, wrenched the handbrake on and took a deep sighing breath.

‘I wish there was … for patients like Bella.’ Will’s voice was thick with emotion. ‘Do you think I don’t know that Bella, and hundreds of people like her, deserve pampering and dignity in their last days? Or at least to have the choice of where and how they die. Particularly those who have little in the way of family support.’ He paused. ‘But who pays?’

Sophie looked away and began fiddling with her watch band.

‘The government?’ she suggested quietly.

Point made. Sophie felt foolish, naive and totally put in her place.

The hospice she was familiar with was a private facility attached to one of the major private hospitals, paid for by wealthy patients and their health insurance funds.

Will put the car in gear, released the handbrake and looked in the rear-view mirror but he didn’t start reversing. He hadn’t finished.

‘The only government-funded hospice in this city is always full and is basically a converted wing of an old, now-defunct psychiatric hospital. And palliative care seems to be way down the list of priorities for Heath Department funding. I honestly think Bella is better off staying at home. At least for now.’

Will eased the car onto the road.

‘She has access to twenty-four-hour advice, home visits through the palliative care service, and both she and Brad have chosen the home-care option.’

Will accelerated.

Sophie understood his frustration. She had a lot to learn—not only about working in Prevely Springs but about how much of himself he gave to his patients. She glanced at her companion. He had dark rings under his weary eyes and his tense grip on the steering-wheel indicated he wasn’t as relaxed as his tone suggested.

What drove him to work so hard? As an experienced GP, surely he could choose a less demanding job. No one was indispensable.

But looking at Will … He seemed attached to his work and his patients by steadfastly unyielding Superglue.

Maybe she could be the one to ease his burden, to help him discover that there was a life away from work, to bring on that gorgeous smile she’d seen light up his face at least once that afternoon.