In Dr Darling's Care

It was the best shower she’d ever had in her life. Lizzie stood under the hot water and let the heat and the steam soothe away the mud and the cold and the shock. Long after she was thoroughly clean she still stood there, letting the heat soothe her tired brain. Making her mind blank. Giving her time out.

Somewhere someone called Jim was looking after Phoebe. That in itself was a godsend. Ever since Grandma had died Phoebe had followed her like a shadow and Lizzie, who didn’t do family, who didn’t do connections, was finding it a weighty strain.

Phoebe was supposed to be back at the holiday cottage right now, but when Lizzie had shut the gate behind her this morning Phoebe had set up a wail that would have woken the dead. Then she’d launched herself at the wooden gate like a battering ram, over and over again, hurling her ungainly body at the wood in manic desperation to follow.

‘You’re pregnant,’ Lizzie had told her. ‘You’ll go into premature labour if you don’t stop it. I’ll be back tonight.’

But Phoebe had kept right on howling and battering. Finally Lizzie had shoved her in the car. She was staying down here because of the dratted dog. If she had to do this locum job with Phoebe sprawled over her feet while she took surgery then the patients would just have to wear it.

What had May said? Anyone who hadn’t had a dog like this put down at first sight had to be more than nice. ‘Ha.’

She wasn’t being nice. It was just… Just that she was stuck.

Phoebe had been Grandma’s dog. Grandma had loved Phoebe and she’d loved Lizzie. Grandma had been the one constant in Lizzie’s trauma-filled upbringing and the thought of losing her…

No. She wasn’t going to cry. She blinked and splashed her face with some more hot water. She wouldn’t cry. But neither could she put Phoebe down.

‘But what on earth ever possessed you to let her get pregnant?’ she wailed to her grandmother. ‘One basset hound I can cope with.’ She thought about it and changed her story. ‘No. One basset hound I can survive. But a pregnant basset hound? A hound with puppies? And they mightn’t even be bassets.’

Actually, that wasn’t such a bad thought. Maybe they’d have their father’s intelligence. Whoever the father was.

‘Maybe he’s a Border collie.

‘Yeah? Border collies are smart. You seriously think a Border collie would look twice at our Phoebe?

‘Maybe not.’

‘Um…is there someone in the shower with you?’ a voice called. ‘If there’s a party happening in there I’ll go away. I don’t want to disturb you.’

May. Whoops, Lizzie thought, and stuck her head out of the shower curtain to reply.

‘I’m talking to the plughole,’ she told her with an attempt at dignity, and May nodded.

‘It’s a good thing, too,’ May said cautiously. ‘I find they don’t talk back.’

‘This one was talking back something dreadful.’

‘Dratted plughole. I’ll call a plumber and have it fixed.’

This woman could be a friend, Lizzie thought gratefully, and the world looked brighter all of a sudden. Especially when she saw what May was holding.

‘My clothes!’

‘Jim drove out and brought your things in.’

Lizzie considered. ‘All my things?’

‘All your things. Including the dog basket.’

‘Gee, that was nice of Jim.’

‘You’re dripping on the floor.’

‘Hand me my towel,’ Lizzie said without committing herself further until she’d had a little think about what was happening here. She retired behind the shower curtain and started towelling herself. And thinking.

‘I can’t stay here.’

‘You have to stay here.’

‘Why?’

‘You’re the only doctor. You need to be on call twenty-four seven.’

She swallowed. ‘Dr McKay wasn’t in cellphone range when I ran over him. He can’t have been on duty.’

‘He was only out of range because Emily has been driving him crazy. She’s been driving everyone crazy. Honestly, if I see one more pew ribbon…’

‘This wedding’s a big deal, huh?’

‘Yep.’ May put a hand behind the curtain and proffered what was most needed. ‘Knickers.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Bra?’

‘Do you normally provide valet service?’

‘When I want to talk, I do. Are you sending our Dr McKay away?’

‘As soon as I can get to a phone and arrange it, yes.’

‘Emily will hate you forever.’

‘Hey, it’s not my fault.’

‘You ran over him.’

‘So what am I supposed to do now? Wave a magic wand so he can sail down the aisle tomorrow? The only way he can get married tomorrow is for Emily to follow him to the city and marry him at a bedside ceremony.’

‘T-shirt,’ May said helpfully. ‘Jeans?’

‘Great.’ Silence while she wiggled into her clothes. Then she pushed the curtain back and emerged.

‘Gee,’ May said. ‘You don’t scrub up too badly after all.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You want to tell them, or shall I?’

‘Tell…’

‘The happy pair. That the wedding’s off. That all those rose petals are going to wilt.’

‘Rose petals?’

‘Emily’s gathered every rose in Birrini,’ May said. ‘Wheelbarrows of the things.’

Lizzie stared at the woman in front of her, and May stared back.

‘Wheelbarrows?’

‘Wheelbarrows.’

‘Where’s Phoebe?’ she asked, moving on from this crazy image with some difficulty.

‘We’re minding her until you’ve faced Emily,’ May told her. ‘Phoebe or Emily… We’ll take Phoebe any day.’

Dressed and warm and feeling as close to normal as she was going to feel today, Lizzie made her way through to the single ward where Harry lay. As she reached the door she paused. There was the sound of a female voice, strained to breaking point.

‘It’s not as if you have to walk down the aisle alone. If you have a cast on, you can wait for me on crutches. Then when you reach me you can hold my hand. It’d be better if you didn’t use crutches afterwards—for the wedding march—but I’ll be able to support you then.’

Lizzie waited, expecting a reply. Nothing.

‘Harry, you must. I mean, there are two hundred people invited. We can’t tell them it’s off.’

Enough. Harry was so drugged he’d agree to anything right now, Lizzie thought, and the sooner she put paid to impossibilities the better. She swung the ward door wide and Emily looked up at her as if she was interrupting something personal. Harry, though, looked across the room to her in real relief.

‘Dr Darling.’

‘Hi.’ She crossed the room to stand beside Emily’s chair. He’d regained a little colour. Good. She pushed the cradle back from his leg. The inflatable splint she’d fixed to his leg was holding it rigid. There was still good colour in his toes, she saw with relief. But still…the sooner she had those bones fixed into place by a skilled orthopaedic surgeon the happier she’d be.

‘You don’t look like a doctor,’ he murmured, and she couldn’t help but agree.

Her jeans were clean at least, she thought. She tucked her still damp curls behind her ears and tried to look professional. What she needed was a white coat, but every white coat in the place had been bought for Harry. He must be six-two or six-three, she thought, as his coats practically swept the floor on her five-foot-six frame.

And if she didn’t look professional… ‘Neither do you,’ she told him, and he gave her a tired smile.

‘I’m not feeling like a doctor. I’m feeling very much like a patient. What’s the prognosis?’

She may as well tell it like it was. Now. ‘The prognosis is a journey,’ she told him. ‘To Melbourne. In thirty minutes.’

Emily had been holding Harry’s hand. Now she dropped it and turned to Lizzie, her face blanching.

‘What do you mean?’ she whispered, and Lizzie winced. This wedding was obviously hugely important to Emily—of course it was—but there was no escaping what must be faced. By all of them.

‘I mean Harry needs to go to Melbourne tonight,’ she said gently, turning back to the man in the bed. ‘Harry, I’ve organised the air ambulance to come straight away. They should be here in about thirty minutes to collect you.’

‘Melbourne…’ Harry said, bemused.

‘You know I can’t fix your leg here.’

‘Why not?’

So he hadn’t fully understood what she’d told him about his leg. ‘Would you like to see the X-rays?’ she asked him, producing the films she’d carried in with her. ‘That is, if you can stand seeing them without feeling ill?’

He nodded and she held them up to the light. As X-rays went, they were fairly dramatic. This was no hairline fracture. The bones were split and splintered. Even a layman could see the extent of the damage.

There was a long moment’s silence as Harry and Emily took them on board together. Then…

‘Hell,’ Harry said.

That about summed it up, Lizzie thought. She couldn’t have put it any better. ‘As you say.’

‘I’ve thoroughly busted it.’

‘There’s a comprehensive medical diagnosis if ever I heard one.’ She gave him an appreciative smile. The man had courage. ‘It’s a complete break of both tibia and fibula. You were lucky it didn’t break the skin.’

‘More than lucky.’ He held out an imperative hand and took the films from her, staring at them intently one after the other. ‘I could have blocked the blood supply.’

‘You did. I straightened the leg on the road and was really lucky to get circulation again.’ She pointed to the film. ‘But look at these shards of bone. They’re not fixed. I’ve been lucky—you’ve been lucky—but I want that leg operated on as soon as possible.’

He whistled. He stared at the film some more and then whistled again. And then he looked up at her, obviously confused.

‘When did you straighten my leg? I can’t remember…’

‘When you were unconscious.’

‘So… I have a headache,’ he murmured, thinking it through with obvious care. ‘But I’m starting to realise that maybe I owe that bump on my head a lot.’

‘It meant I could manipulate your leg while you were unconscious, yes.’

‘I guess I should be grateful to you.’

She smiled at that. ‘Well, maybe not too grateful. I did run you down.’

‘I ran straight into you,’ he told her ruefully. ‘I thought that road would be deserted. I didn’t think anyone would be staying in those holiday units at this time of year. They’re awful and the only time they’re used is in midsummer.’

‘They were the only ones that would let me take my dog.’

He nodded. His eyes were still on the X-rays. He was having trouble focusing, Lizzie thought. The morphine would be doing that. It was a wonder he was awake at all.

‘Your leg’s hurting?’

‘Not much.’

‘You make a bad liar,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll give you a top-up before the plane leaves.’

‘But…’ Emily had been staring at the two of them as if they’d gone mad. ‘This is crazy. You’ve forgotten. Harry can’t go on any plane.’

‘He must,’ Lizzie said gently. ‘This leg needs to be fixed. It needs pins to be inserted. Harry needs a skilled orthopaedic surgeon and highly specific equipment. Until Harry has the operation, he can’t weight-bear, and the splinters of bone are a real danger to his blood supply. He knows that. Don’t you, Harry?’

Harry laid the films down on the coverlet. ‘Yes,’ he said. And sighed. ‘I do.’ He sighed again.

Something wasn’t right.

Lizzie stared down at him. He stared straight back and her initial impression intensified. Was it possible? She must be imagining it, she told herself, but for just a moment she thought she’d detected a note of real relief in his voice. And…the faintest trace of laughter?

She must have been imagining it. There was no such relief in Emily’s tone—or in her expression. The woman faced Lizzie with desperation, and her face was more shocked than Harry’s.

‘If he can’t weight-bear… That just means traction. You can do it here and he’ll just have to use a wheelchair. We can do that.’

But Lizzie was shaking her head. ‘Traction can’t guarantee Harry the same results as pinning,’ she told her. ‘You don’t want Harry to end up with one leg longer than the other.’ Then, as Emily’s face said she wasn’t so sure, Lizzie pressed on.

‘Emily, look again at that film,’ she said gently. ‘When Harry was first injured the blood supply was completely blocked. I was lucky enough to get the leg into a position where the blood vessels are operating but I don’t know how permanent that is. The X-rays are telling me there are loose splinters of bone that could block the blood supply again. He has to be operated on and that need is urgent. I don’t have an anaesthetist and I don’t have the equipment, even if I was trained to do this sort of operation. Which I’m not. I’m sorry, Emily, but there is no choice.’

‘There must be.’

‘There isn’t.’

‘Harry, make her see…’ There were tears rolling down the woman’s face. Good grief, Lizzie thought. She was verging on the hysterical.

It was only a wedding.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Harry was there before her. His hand came out and caught his fiancée’s, gripping it tight. ‘No, Em. It’s you who has to see. Dr Darling’s right. I need to go to Melbourne. We need to postpone the wedding.’

‘If you give us a list of guests, May and I will sit down tonight and contact them,’ Lizzie told them. ‘May’s already offered. She tells me the hospital is quiet. Only five patients.’

‘I’ll need to go through patient lists before I go,’ Harry said sharply, and Lizzie thought, Gee, he sounds more worried about his patients than he does about his wedding.

Maybe he was. Weddings weren’t her cup of tea either.

‘May’s shown me the ward sheets. There’s nothing I can’t deal with.’

‘Unless Phoebe goes into labour,’ Harry told her, and Lizzie found herself smiling at the man. He was grinning up at her—a faint half-grin, but magnetic for all that.

He did have the most wonderful smile…

‘I already checked to see if there was a vet in town before I took this job,’ she told him, fascinated, and even more fascinated as his eyes crinkled into laughter.

‘You mean you checked the vet situation but you didn’t check the medical scene?’

‘I checked what was important. Though if I’d known the town had only one suicidal doctor…’ She gasped and caught herself. What was she doing, giving him cheek? Laughing with him? She should be checking his sedation and wishing him a safe journey.

She should be moving right on.

‘Is there anything you need before I go?’ she asked stiffly, and his smile died. Beside him, Emily was standing ashen with shock, and he gave her a worried look.

‘Something for Em?’

‘A sedative?’

‘She’s been looking forward to this wedding for a long time.’

She’s been looking forward to this wedding? Nothing about him, she noticed.

But that could wait. It wasn’t her business.

‘Will you go with Harry?’ she asked, and the other woman turned to her with blind eyes.

‘Of course I’ll go with Harry. And I don’t need anything. I don’t need a sedative.’ But her voice was wobbling dangerously.

‘Can I ring your parents? Someone to help you?’

‘Every single one of Em’s relatives has been in town for over a week,’ Harry said ruefully. ‘But they’ll be no support at all.’ His grip on Emily’s hand tightened and his voice became urgent. ‘Em, you need to stay here. Lizzie’s going to need help.’

‘I’m coming with you. Dr Darling can cope by herself. She got us into this mess. My mother can cope with wedding things. She can set another date…’

‘Leave setting the date for a while,’ Lizzie told her. She put a hand on Emily’s shoulder and looked sideways at Harry. She didn’t understand what was going on here. There were very interesting undertones… ‘Let me call your mother now,’ she offered. ‘I’ll give you something to help settle you for the trip. You’ve had a shock as well as Harry and you need to be kind to yourself. But meanwhile you need to pack, for yourself and for Harry. The plane will be here very soon.’

Emily cast her a look that was more than desperate. ‘I don’t need any sedative,’ she snapped. ‘Of course I don’t. Don’t be stupid. I’ll pack. I’ll talk to my mother.’ She shook her head as if casting off a nightmare. ‘I’ll do it now.’

She cast one despairing glance at Harry. ‘If you’re sure…’

‘We’re sure, Em,’ Harry said gently, and Em gave a last angry gasp.

‘Fine, then. I’ll pack.’

And she left Lizzie and Harry alone.

‘I’m sorry.’ With Em gone, Lizzie lifted the chart at the end of the bed and started writing. There’d be a doctor on the air ambulance, and the medical team in Melbourne would need to know what she’d done.

‘Don’t be sorry.’ Harry looked remarkably cheerful for someone who was in pain, who’d almost lost his leg and who’d just missed out on his wedding. ‘It was more Em’s wedding than mine anyway.’

‘You only need to put it back a week or so. If the leg can be pinned you’ll be weight-bearing in no time.’

‘I’m not getting married until I can put my dinner suit on. That’ll be weeks.’

‘May says the ambulance service will bring you back as soon as the orthopods let you go.’ She’d perched on the seat Em had vacated and she wrote up the drug sheet. ‘That should be no more than a few days.’

‘You’ll stay on?’

‘I shouldn’t,’ she said bitterly, setting down her pen and gazing at him with resignation. ‘I’ve been tricked into coming here.’

‘Not by me. And you hit me.’

‘You ran into my car.’

‘I did,’ he conceded. ‘Running in the middle of the road isn’t exactly a sensible thing to do.’

‘Your mind was on other things?’

‘I’d had a bit much wedding.’ He winced and she rose to adjust the cradle over his leg.

‘I’ll give you more morphine just before you’re moved.’

‘I’d appreciate it. Lizzie…the patients…’

‘You have Mrs Kelly in One with a brand-new daughter who’s just been transferred back after delivering in Melbourne. You have Ted Parker in Two with angina. Robby Bradly and Pete Scoresby aged ten and eleven respectively are in Three with multiple abrasions and a couple of green-stick fractures after their cubby house decided to fall twenty feet from a eucalypt. They should be right to go home tomorrow as soon as their respective mothers have recovered from the shock. And Lillian Mark is in Four with anorexia.’

‘May’s told you everything.’

‘I’ve even read the patient notes,’ she told him, and if her voice sounded a wee bit smug, who could blame her? She’d been so out of control it was nice to be able to gather a little bit of normality. Like reading patient notes.

But Harry was frowning. Concentrating. ‘It’s Lillian I wanted to talk to you about,’ he managed. ‘She should be in a psychiatric ward but her parents won’t hear of it. I’m worried about her. There’s the potential for suicide.’

‘She won’t suicide on my patch.’

‘You’re very sure.’

‘I’ve dealt with anorexic kids before.’ She softened. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll talk to her now and I’ll run ward rounds four times a day.’

‘You can’t stay out at that damned holiday unit.’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t. Phoebe’s going to kill herself if I try.’

‘And you can’t be on call out there. You’re the only doctor. You need to be able to be contacted.’

She thought about that and didn’t like it. Twenty-four seven on call wasn’t what she’d intended. ‘You were running out of cellphone range,’ she told him.

‘For half an hour. Because every phone call was about the wedding.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Heavy, huh?’

‘You have no idea.’

‘So maybe I saved you from a fate worse than death?’

‘Or maybe I’ll just have to go through the whole damned palaver again.’

‘You’re a big boy. You can cope.’ She rose and tilted her head on one side, taking him in. ‘I need to go. May’s trying to find me accommodation where Phoebe’s welcome.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not holding my breath.’

‘Use the doctor’s quarters.’

‘What—your place?’

‘I won’t be there.’

‘You’ll be back in three or four days.’

‘There’s two bedrooms and most of my stuff is at Emily—at our new home.’

She thought about it. Of course. They were marrying. He’d be well out of the doctor’s quarters.

‘You reckon the hospital board will object to Phoebe?’

‘Probably, but tell them it’s a package deal. You and Phoebe or nothing. I think you’ll find they have no choice.’ He closed his eyes and winced again. ‘Hell, when am I due for more morph?’

She checked her watch. ‘I’ll give you some now. You sound like you’re getting addicted.’

‘You have no idea.’

She smiled and rang the bell. Ten seconds later May’s bright face appeared around the door. ‘Problem?’

‘We need a nice healthy dose of morphine so the good doctor can sleep all the way to Melbourne,’ Lizzie told her, and May nodded.

‘Coming right up.’ She hesitated. ‘Though you might want to add a bit for Emily. I think she intends to weep all the way there.’

‘Make her stay,’ Harry said weakly, and May’s eyes creased in sympathy.

‘No can do,’ she said softly. ‘Your fiancée. Your problem. And maybe our Dr Darling has given you breathing space to figure it out.’

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