The Doctor's Outback Baby
CAROL MARINELLI
The English doctor's temporary assignmentWhen a new and very English doctor, Timothy Morgan, strolls into Tennengarrah on a temporary assignment, nurse Clara Watts finds her life running out of control. In the scorching heat of the Outback Clara and Tim are thrown together in life-or-death situations, and find themselves hurtling toward an exciting affair. What will happen when Clara discovers she's pregnant?
“Don’t shut me out, Clara. I’m here for you.”
She gave a low laugh. “But for how long, Timothy? Soon you’ll be up in Queensland with your underwater camera, snapping away at the reef.”
Soon he would be gone, out of her life and on to new pastures, and what then?
She’d always been independent, self-reliant, but Timothy had crept into her heart with alarming stealth, become the rock she leaned on, her hope, her sounding board—and all too soon he was going to be taken away.
Of course she wanted him to stay—she wanted that more than anything else in the world—but she was terrified. Terrified of telling him just how much she wanted it.
Dear Reader (#u70589b2a-3ba4-5494-8056-85ca85157d1d),
If this is your first visit to the fictional outback town of Tennengarrah, I hope you enjoy your stay. For me, even though I had always intended to revisit, it happened sooner rather than later.
One night, many possibilities.
That was how my idea for this book started. I decided to go back to Tennengarrah’s annual ball, where I last left the town—only this time to witness it through the eyes of my gorgeous new heroine, Clara.
It was great catching up with old friends and making new ones along the way—so good in fact I might just do it all again very soon.
Happy reading.
Carol Marinelli
The Doctor’s Outback Baby
Carol Marinelli
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CONTENTS (#u70589b2a-3ba4-5494-8056-85ca85157d1d)
Cover (#u71931051-946e-505e-8742-964010af9af0)
Introduction (#ub4540c34-212b-52a9-9c1b-c57efddaae8f)
Dear Reader (#u2a8d5efe-cfd7-5219-874a-36675daa572e)
Title Page (#u0189a303-dec7-5a0a-8489-ae27f257cf75)
PROLOGUE (#ue643569c-f17a-5ba9-9706-781e4320c0c7)
CHAPTER ONE (#udd414901-59eb-5685-b39c-9db13c8d2143)
CHAPTER TWO (#uef868a6f-a152-56ed-97d6-2decbf8cea10)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#u70589b2a-3ba4-5494-8056-85ca85157d1d)
‘I HATE to ask.’
Clara gritted her teeth as Shelly came through the clinic doors brandishing the off-duty book. Everyone always ‘hated to ask’, but it certainly didn’t seem to stop them from doing exactly that!
‘I just don’t see how we can ask Irene to prepare Bill for the flight and give the Flying Doctors a hand-over—she was only supposed to be babysitting the clinic.’
‘She is a registered nurse,’ Clara pointed out.
‘Who barely practises.’ Shelly had a point, Clara could see that much. Bill Nash, after weeks of deliberation, had chosen today to finally agree to the cardiac bypass surgery he desperately needed. And as luck would have it, the surgeons in Adelaide had a theatre cancellation on Monday, which hopefully wouldn’t give Bill too much opportunity to change his mind.
Which was great and everything. But today also happened to be the one day in the year when something actually happened in the remote outback town of Tennengarrah. She’d requested the night off months ago. As soon as the ball committee had decided on the date Clara had penciled her request into the roster. She’d even booked a hair appointment, hoping that for one night at least her rather thin, impossibly straight, short red hair could be somehow transformed. And now here was Shelly, who also happened to be a registered nurse, asking her, yet again, if she would mind saving the day.
‘Surely there’s someone else,’ Clara mumbled, hoping Shelly would take the hint but knowing it was futile. It wouldn’t even enter Shelly’s head to put her hand up.
Why bother when there was good old Clara?
‘There isn’t,’ Shelly sighed. ‘Kell’s the only other nurse and as he’s on a day off I can’t get hold of him. We might not even need anyone. The Flying Doctors could come at any time, they might even be here this morning and then tonight’s off duty won’t even be an issue. But when they do come they’re going to want a thorough handover, it’s just not fair to ask Irene to do it when she’s barely looked after him. Look, Clara, I’d do it myself, it’s just…’ Her voice trailed off, and Clara knew she was waiting for her to jump in, knew Shelly was waiting for her to let out an incredulous laugh and say, no, don’t worry. She knew how much Shelly was looking forward to the ball, knew Shelly had been on a post-pregnancy diet for weeks and was looking forward to finally having a romantic night with her husband Ross, Tennengarrah’s resident doctor, and that of course Clara wasn’t suggesting that she actually work tonight.
But for the first time in living memory Clara stood firm. Tonight was just too important to her.
‘What about Abby?’ Clara suggested hopefully, and not with entirely innocent intentions either. Abby Hampton, an efficient doctor from the city who was nearing the end of her three-month stint in the outback, had been the thorn in Clara’s side for weeks now and the prospect of Tennengarrah’s ball without the stunning Dr Hampton present was extremely appealing. Even so, Clara blushed guiltily as she pressed the point, knowing her motives weren’t entirely pure. ‘I know she’s a doctor, but we all pitch in with things like this, and she’s not exactly enamoured of the place. I’m sure Abby wouldn’t mind holding the fort.’
‘I can’t ask Abby.’ Shelly shook her head, but an excited smile was starting to form on her lips as she looked around to check that the coast was clear. ‘Honestly, Clara, I just can’t.’
‘What’s going on?’ Clara asked. ‘Come on, Shelly, tell me. There’s only Bill here and he’s asleep. Why can’t you ask Abby?’
‘You have to promise not to breathe a word.’ Shelly’s eyes were wide. She was grinning broadly now and Clara found herself reluctantly smiling back, her annoyance with Shelly’s thoughtlessness evaporating at the chance of a piece of gossip.
‘I promise. Come on, Shelly, don’t keep me in suspense. Has she finally decided to head off back to Sydney to her beloved emergency department?’ Clara asked, rather too hopefully.
‘Oh, it’s better than that,’ Shelly said excitedly, perching herself on the edge of the desk and beckoning Clara closer. ‘And if you let it slip I’ll never—’
‘Get on with it.’ Clara laughed, sitting back on her seat and waiting to hear what Shelly was so excited about.
‘I can’t ask Abby to work tonight, because I have it on excellent authority that someone else wants to ask her something.’
‘I’m not with you.’ Clara shook her head, bemused.
‘You really don’t have a clue, do you? Where have you been hiding the last week or so, Clara? The bush telegraph’s been working overtime,’ Shelly whispered excitedly. ‘Guess where Kell is?’
‘On a day off.’
‘Yes, but guess what he’s doing?’
‘He said he was going into town,’ Clara shrugged. ‘Bruce was going to fly him there.’
‘Which he did a couple of weeks ago, and Bruce saw him going into a jeweller’s!’ When Clara still didn’t catch on Shelly thumped her playfully on the arm, jumping off the desk with an excited whoop as for Clara reality finally dawned. ‘Kell’s going to ask Abby to marry him, Clara! I’m on my way over to Abby’s now. I’ve managed to squeeze her in to get her hair and nails done, though she’s absolutely no idea what Kell’s got planned. I can’t possibly tell her that Bill’s finally decided to have the op or she’ll be over in a flash, that’s why I’m bending over backwards to sort out the roster and make sure everything goes smoothly. Nothing must spoil tonight for them. Can you believe Kell’s actually going to propose?’
Clara couldn’t.
For a moment the world stopped. She could hear Shelly laughing and talking in the background, was vaguely aware even of Ross and some other guy walking in, but for that moment in time her heart felt as if it wasn’t beating any more. Clutching Bill’s pile of notes to her chest as if it were some sort of shield, she sat there as the news washed over her.
Kell Bevan was going to propose.
After all these years Kell had finally got off his blue-jeaned backside and made a flight into town to pick up a ring on the day of the Tennengarrah ball.
It was just how she’d imagined it.
Just how she’d secretly dreamed it would be. The barn alight with fairy-lights, tea-candles burning on the tables, the scent of white gardenias filling the night air, the stars twinkling endlessly above as Kell finally proposed.
Maybe she hadn’t prayed hard enough.
Perhaps when she’d made the mental bargain with the powers that be she hadn’t been specific enough, had forgotten to point out what should have been so blazingly obvious.
Kell should have been asking her.
CHAPTER ONE (#u70589b2a-3ba4-5494-8056-85ca85157d1d)
‘AND this is Clara, who knows more about Tennengarrah than the whole lot of us put together, don’t you?’
‘Sorry?’ Realising that not only was she being spoken to but that a response was very much the order of the day, Clara turned her slightly startled expression to Ross.
‘I was just telling Timothy here how much we all depend on you, and that if he needs anything he only has to ask.’ Ross Bodey’s rather strained smile left Clara in no doubt she’d been daydreaming too long and it hadn’t gone unnoticed.
‘He’s the new doctor,’ Shelly mumbled in an undertone, pushing Clara forward to shake Timothy’s outstretched hand. ‘From England.’
‘But you’re not due for a couple of weeks yet.’
It wasn’t the most welcoming of greetings—in fact, on a rating of one to ten it would barely have scored—but, given the bombshell Shelly had just been dropped, Clara was amazed she could actually speak, and what was more her voice even sounded vaguely familiar!
‘I ran out of cash.’
His admission startled her out of her confusion momentarily. Shifting the pile of notes into one arm, Clara accepted the outstretched hand and found herself looking into two smiling green eyes, even managing a rather forced smile back as thankfully he went over the formalities she had clearly missed.
‘Timothy Morgan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
‘Clara Watts,’ she mumbled, stealing a closer look. He certainly didn’t look like someone who would run out of cash. His clothes, though casual, were certainly top notch and he had a very English, rather upper-crust accent, his thick curly brown hair was superbly cut but, more importantly, there was a slightly unassuming air about him, a refreshing openness to the smile he easily imparted as he shook her hand firmly. ‘So you’re from England. Are you here on a working holiday?’
‘That’s right,’ Timothy answered cheerfully. ‘Though I’ve been away for nearly a year now, working and trying to fit in all the touristy things.’
Lord, he could talk. She’d only asked a question to be polite! All Clara really wanted to do was dash off to the loo, bury her head in her hands and go over the news Shelly had so happily imparted. But instead she had to stand and make polite noises as Dr Timothy Morgan took her on an impromptu virtual tour of Australia, pulling photos out of his pocket like a magician as he told her how he’d bought a cheap ute, worked his way down the east coast of Australia and was now working his way up the middle.
‘I was hoping to make my fortune in Coober Pedey,’ Timothy chattered on easily. ‘I read in my guide book that some tourists make enough to fund their entire trip, only in my case I spent three weeks fossicking in the dirt for opals and ended up spending a fortune having the two tiny stones I found mounted, which wasn’t exactly the plan, so I’m hoping to start here early.’
‘How early?’ Shelly asked hopefully, peering at the roster as Ross started to laugh.
‘You can’t ask the poor guy to work on his first night here—he should be over at the ball, getting to know all the locals in one swoop. What’s the problem?’
‘I can’t get anyone to work tonight.’
‘But I thought Irene was coming.’
‘She is, but she made it very clear she doesn’t want to hand over to the Flying Doctors. So if they don’t get here before seven, one of us is going to have to be here, and I can hardly ask Kell or Abby.’
‘And you can’t ask Clara,’ Ross said firmly. ‘She’s on the ball committee, for goodness’ sake, they’ve been planning this for months.’
‘No, you can’t ask Clara.’
The conversation that had been taking place ended abruptly, every eye turning as the new guy in town put in his ten cents’ worth to a problem that clearly wasn’t his.
‘Because I intend to ask her to dance.’
It was an unfortunate moment to drop the pile of notes Clara had been precariously balancing.
Unfortunate, because from the look that flashed between Ross and Shelly they clearly thought Timothy’s rather vocal intentions had caused her lapse in concentration.
Unfortunate, because Shelly, an eternal romantic at the best of times, would be for ever on her case now about the gorgeous new doctor and why didn’t she make a bit of effort with him.
And unfortunate, because there was nothing dignified about scrabbling on the floor, trying to pick up endless reams of blood results and ECG printouts scattered over a seemingly ten-mile radius, with a heart that was bleeding inside.
Kell was going to propose.
It was like an awful mantra resounding in her head. Biting on her bottom lip to fight the sting of tears, Clara could feel her face reddening with the effort of not crying. She wished they’d all just leave her alone. Go and do whatever needed to be done on a Saturday morning and let her get on with her day.
Let her get on with her life.
A life without Kell.
‘If the Flying Doctors haven’t come by the time the balls starts, Irene can still watch him and give me a call when they get here. We’ll hear the plane coming in anyway. It will only take half an hour or so to hand over.’
‘But, Ross…’ Shelly protested.
They were all on the floor, kneeling down and pretending not to notice Clara’s red face and shaking hands.
‘No buts,’ Ross said firmly, standing up and shuffling the mass of papers into a pile that would take for ever to sort out. ‘Have you told Bill’s daughter the news?’
Clara shook her head, grateful for the change of subject. ‘I’ve been ringing all morning but I can’t get through.’
‘No doubt she’s out on the farm. It’s probably best someone tells her face to face, given that she’s pregnant and everything. I might head over now. Do you want to come, Timothy?’
‘Where do they live?’
‘Just out of town.’
Timothy gave a small grimace. ‘Which in the outback means a couple of hours’ drive. Sorry, Ross, would it be a terrible career move if I turned you down, given that I’ve just spent the last twenty-four hours bumping along in my ute to get here?’
‘Of course not.’ Ross laughed. ‘I just feel guilty, leaving you on your own on your first morning here. Shelly’s got a hairdresser’s appointment, Kell and Abby are off duty…’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Timothy said assuredly. ‘A shower and a sleep are top of my list at the moment. Still…’ those green eyes turned to Clara, who was attempting to fashion Bill’s notes into some sort of order ‘…I wouldn’t say no to a quick guided tour of the clinic, if Clara doesn’t mind. I’d hate for something to happen and not have a clue where anything’s kept.’
‘Good idea,’ Ross said enthusiastically, obviously thrilled to have Timothy on board. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Clara?’
There it was again, the automatic assumption that she’d come good. ‘You don’t mind’ was up there with ‘I hate to ask’ and Clara’s personal favourite, ‘Oh, Clara will do it’.
Well, she did mind.
Right now she wanted some peace, wanted to sort out Bill’s notes, wanted some time to gather her thoughts and figure out what on earth she was going to do, not hold yet another new doctor’s hand and show another fleeting visitor the ropes, only to have them leave again.
Of course she didn’t say as much. Instead, she nodded, her clear blue eyes briefly meeting Timothy’s. ‘Sure, I’d be happy to.’
‘Great.’
‘Sorry about this,’ Timothy ventured once they were alone. ‘I’m sure you’ve got a million and one things to do without taking me around. It’s just that I went for an interview at a bush hospital up in Queensland when I first came to Australia. I got there early, as you do for interviews, and a patient went and had a cardiac arrest while I was sitting outside the interview room.’
Clara was only half listening as she pushed open the coffee-room doors and pointed in the vague direction of the staff kitchen before heading towards the main work area. Timothy’s backpacking stories really held no interest for her.
‘Anyway, it turns out I was so early the doctor interviewing me wasn’t in the hospital yet.’
‘Really?’ Clara said distractedly, turning up the volume on Bill’s cardiac monitor before she crossed the room as Timothy hovered annoyingly over her right shoulder, watching her every move. ‘I’ll take you though to our treatment room.’
‘So there I was, going over my interview technique, the ink on my medical certificate barely dry, and this nurse came running up.’
‘Two beds,’ Clara said, pushing open the heavy back swing doors as Timothy carried on nattering. ‘This sometimes doubles as a second resuscitation area if we get a major incident…’ Her voice trailed off in mid-sentence and she turned around sharply. ‘You were the only doctor in the hospital?’
‘Barely a doctor, really.’ Timothy nodded as Clara’s mouth fell open. ‘I came to Australia as soon as I finished med school—I hadn’t even had my new cheque books delivered.’ He watched a frown pucker her freckled face. ‘One of life’s better moments.’ Timothy smiled. ‘Ringing up the bank and asking them to change the Mr to Dr. You’d be amazed how that surly voice on the other end of the phone changes when they realise your rather shaky bank balance is in for some serious improvement.’
‘But you’re too…’ Snapping her mouth closed, Clara didn’t finish her sentence, but Timothy had already got the gist.
‘Too old to be an intern?’ he finished for her with a grin. ‘I was a mature student. In fact, a student’s practically all I’ve ever been. I spent three years at uni fiddling around doing a business and finance degree, then two months out in the big wide world made me realise the family business just wasn’t for me. They’re financial planners.’ Timothy grimaced. ‘My parents get the same thrill watching the stock market that I get watching a cardiac monitor.’
Clara laughed, actually laughed. ‘Sounds as if you could use some financial planning yourself.’
But Timothy just shook his head. ‘Heaven forbid. Sure, I could ring them up and ask them to wire me some money but I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘There’s the rest of my life to worry about mortgage payments and retirement funds. When I get back to England I’m hoping to study to become a surgeon so there’s years of being sensible ahead, but for now I intend to enjoy myself, despite my parents’ objections.’
Clara sensed the edge of his voice but chose not to push. ‘So what happened?’ She registered his frown. ‘At your interview in Queensland?’
‘Oh, that!’ Timothy grinned, his easy smile back in place now. ‘Well, this nurse comes rushing up and tells me that Mr Forbes in bed four has gone into a cardiac arrest.’
‘So what did you do?’ There was impatience to her voice, which Timothy seemed not to notice.
‘Well, for starters I asked just where bed four was, and while she was at it would she mind telling me who the hell Mr Forbes was and, perhaps more pointedly, if there was another doctor in the house.’
‘But what did you do with the patient?’ Clara pushed, genuinely enthralled now, as any nurse would have been at such a story. ‘What on earth happened?’
‘I took a crash course in crash calls.’ He laughed. ‘Thank heavens I watch ER. I was giving out orders, calling out to charge the defibrillator, massaging Mr Forbes’s chest. I even intubated him.’
‘Really?’ Clara asked, suitably impressed, but Timothy shrugged modestly.
‘I’d had a few goes in Theatre.’
‘But still,’ Clara enthused. ‘There’s a big difference between the controlled setting of Theatre with an anaesthetist over your shoulder and running your first cardiac arrest on your own. You did really well.’
‘Not that well,’ Timothy groaned. ‘The patient died.’
‘Ouch.’
‘And I didn’t get the job.’
‘But why?’ Clara protested. ‘That’s so unfair.’
‘That’s life.’ Timothy shrugged. ‘Someone smarter, with more experience, got in first.’
‘I know the feeling,’ Clara muttered.
‘Sorry?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Come on, I’ll show you around properly, though hopefully there won’t be any repeats.’ They walked around the theatre, Clara pointing things out, flicking machines on and off and taking Timothy through the resuscitation trolley, even surprising herself by pursuing a conversation with him.
‘So, which hospital did you end up in?’
‘Adelaide.’
‘But that’s the other end of the country,’ Clara pointed out.
‘And I took my time getting there, let me tell you.’
‘Maybe later.’ Clara grinned. ‘I do actually have some work to do.’
‘Sorry, I tend to go on a bit, but despite my poverty I’ve just about saved up enough money to head back to Queensland when I’m finished here and do the next level diving course.’
‘You’ve already done one?’
‘Two,’ Timothy replied. ‘It was amazing. You should see some of the photos I’ve taken of the barrier reef—I’ll show you some time. Have you been there?’
Clara shook her head. ‘I haven’t been anywhere. Apart from three years in Adelaide to study nursing, I’ve never been away from here. It sounds wonderful, though. I’ve heard it’s stunning.’
‘Oh, it is and nothing beats seeing it at first hand. Our diving instructor gave us some food to take down. The fish actually come and feed out of your hands—I even saw a shark not six feet away.’
‘Don’t,’ Clara yelped. ‘I’d die.’
‘I nearly did,’ Timothy responded, his eyes widening in fear just at the memory. ‘Apparently if you ignore them they’ll ignore you, but I must have used up half my air tank I was hyperventilating so much. You should do it some day, take off and backpack around this amazing land. It’s been the best year of my life.’
‘I’d love to,’ Clara admitted, ‘but I can’t see it happening. I can barely get a night off to go to the ball. Can you imagine Ross and Shelly if I asked for a whole year?’
‘Don’t ask.’ Timothy shrugged. ‘Just do it.’
‘Easier said than done.’ Looking up, she realised Timothy was waiting for her to elaborate. ‘The clinic used to be tiny, just one room and one theatre, when I started. But since Ross and Shelly came last year it’s really grown. Ross is totally committed to the place, he’s for ever lobbying for more staff and more funds and for the most part it’s worked. The closed-off area is yet another extension and when that’s completed we’re going to be upgraded from a clinic to a bush hospital. There’s going to be two wards and a proper delivery suite, which will be great, of course, but the trouble is the staff ratio hasn’t exactly kept up with the patients so far. Kell and I do most of it between us, Shelly pitches in when she can, but she’s got a new baby and a three-year-old to take care of. She wants to be at home with her babies and, frankly, I don’t blame her. Matthew, her three-year-old, has got Down’s syndrome,’ Clara explained, but Timothy just nodded.
‘I know.’
‘So her hands are full already, without taking on a load of extra shifts.’
‘So it all falls on you?’
‘And Kell,’ Clara said quickly, but when Timothy just stared back at her she let out a low sigh. ‘Mainly me at the moment,’ she admitted. They were in the storeroom now, out of earshot of Bill, so Clara was able to be honest. ‘We don’t normally have inpatients, at least not for more than a couple of nights, but Bill didn’t want to be transferred and he was too sick to go home…’
‘And, of course, Kell was busy with Abby,’ Timothy said perceptively. ‘So it all came down to you. You are allowed to have a life, too, you know.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ Clara protested. ‘It’s just been a bit full on these past few weeks.’
‘You should take some time off, I bet you’ve got heaps owing. Go and see this magical land of yours. I know that’s what I’ll be doing once I’ve done my three-month stint here. When I’ve got my advanced diver’s certificate I’ll be able to take tourists out to the reef myself. I’ve got a two-year working holiday visa and I intend to use every last day of it. Diving’s great.’
‘There’s not much ocean in Tennengarrah,’ Clara needlessly pointed out.
‘Then I’ll just have to stick to medicine while I’m here, I guess.’ He was smiling at her and, what was more amazing given her mood only twenty minutes earlier, Clara was smiling back, only this time it wasn’t forced or awkward. This time it seemed the most natural thing in the world. ‘Thanks for the tour and by the way…’ He was walking out now, heading for the door as Clara turned back to Bill’s notes. ‘I still want that dance.’
‘So Cinderella shall go to the ball after all.’
The sound of Bill’s voice filling the silence made Clara jump. Crossing the room, she smiled at her patient as she wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around his arm.
‘You were supposed to be asleep.’
‘Everyone would have stopped talking if I’d opened my eyes. It’s nice to hear a bit of a gossip.’
Bill had been lying in a state of lethargic depression for weeks now, and Clara was so relieved to see his familiar, kind eyes with a bit of sparkle back in them that her own worries flew out of the window. After checking his obs, she perched on the edge of his bed for a little chat.
‘It’s good to have you back, Bill.’
‘It’s good to be back. Now that I’ve finally decided to go ahead and have the bypass I feel better.’
‘You’ll feel even better when you’ve had the operation. Not at first, of course, but after a month or two you’ll be a new man, Bill. I’m sure you’ve made the right choice.’
‘I hope so.’ She could see the glimmer of fear in his eyes and instinctively Clara put her hand over his and gave it a small squeeze. ‘You’re a good girl, Clara,’ Bill said as he gripped her hand back. ‘Ross, Kell, Shelly, Abby, they’re all great and everything, but you’re one in a million, do you know that?’
‘Stop getting maudlin.’ Clara blushed, but Bill wouldn’t let up.
‘I remember when your parents died. One of Tennengarrah’s blackest days it was. We were all so worried about you, wondering what would become of you. Just fifteen years old and with no one to take care of you…’
‘I had loads of people,’ Clara broke in. ‘Everyone helped.’
‘Still, a lot of fifteen-year-olds would have gone off the rails. But not you. You put your head down and got on with it, didn’t you? Really made something of yourself. The whole town’s so proud of you, Clara. You’re a true Tennengarrah girl.’
‘So is Kell,’ Clara pointed out, trying not to linger on his name too long, trying to have a normal conversation without betraying the agony in her heart. It wasn’t too hard to do. After all, she’d been hiding her feelings where Kell was concerned for years, it came almost as naturally as breathing. ‘He’s a guy, of course, but he’s a local, too.’
‘For how long, though?’
On any other day and under any other circumstance she’d have managed a shrug or a smile, managed to carry on talking as if she didn’t have a care in the world, as if Kell Bevan was just another friend and colleague. Only today she couldn’t do it.
Today as Clara sat in the still, quiet ward with her one and only patient, something that felt suspiciously like a tear pricked her eye as Bill carried on talking.
‘This is hard on you, isn’t it, Clara?’
‘What do you mean?’ Confused, she shook her head, went to pull her hand away, but Bill gripped it tighter and those kind eyes stared back at her thoughtfully.
‘Kell’s a bit more than just a friend to you, isn’t he?’
Aghast, Clara’s eyes widened, her mouth opening to let out a small wail of protest, but Bill moved quickly to reassure her.
‘No one knows, so don’t be embarrassed. I’ve known you all your life, you’re like a second daughter to me, but even I didn’t have a clue. You’ve always just been Kell and Clara, two school kids, two mates and later two nurses. I never even realised until a couple of weeks ago how you felt. But watching the two of you working together, how your whole face lights up when he comes in the room, how difficult it’s been for you when Abby’s around, well, I guess something just clicked in my head. You do care for him, don’t you?’
It was pointless denying it, pointless when tears were streaming down her face as her old mate Bill gently held her hand.
Bill wasn’t just a patient—he was friend, a surrogate uncle. Endless nights had been spent in the cosy womb of his kitchen after her parents had died. Bill and his beloved wife had taken her under their wing, the whole town had, in fact, ensuring she’d always felt loved. Cheering her on through her school exams then later welcoming her back with open arms when finally she’d got her nursing degree.
Lying to Bill wasn’t an option.
‘I was going to tell him how I felt tonight,’ Clara whispered. ‘I knew he was seeing Abby, but I really didn’t think it was that serious. I thought she was just another girlfriend, that she’d move on in a couple of weeks and things would be back to normal, and now it would seem that they’re getting engaged.’
‘She hasn’t said yes yet,’ Bill pointed out.
‘Oh, she will,’ Clara said ruefully. ‘And deep down I know that it’s right. They love each other, they’re really well suited. It’s just so hard to take it all in…’
‘Oh, Clara.’ Bill lay back on his pillow as she struggled to hold it together.
‘I’m sorry, Bill, I’m supposed to be cheering you up, not landing all of this on you.’
‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ Bill said gently. ‘Things will get better for you Clara. When my Raelene died I thought my life was over. I never thought I’d be happy again, didn’t care if I lived or died. And now look at me. I’ve got a grandchild on the way, I’m having an operation that will give me another decade. And you know what? I reckon once this op is over, once I’m back home, on a good day I’ll even be able to say that I’m truly happy, and you’ll be able to say it one day, too. It won’t always hurt this much.’
‘I know,’ Clara said bravely, then changed her mind. ‘Actually, I don’t know, but I really hope so, Bill.’
‘Hey, there’s plenty more fish in the sea…’
‘Bill…’ Clara let out a rueful laugh. ‘As I just said to Timothy, there’s no ocean for miles here, there’s really not that many fish to choose from in Tennengarrah.’
‘What about the Carry On guy?’
‘Who?’
‘Carry On Doctor, the one with the posh voice who killed his first patient.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The one he was talking about—the guy who had the heart attack at his interview in Queensland! Like I said, I was only pretending to be asleep.’
‘He didn’t kill him, Bill.’ Clara grinned through her tears. ‘It wasn’t Timothy’s fault he couldn’t save him—it actually sounds as if he did really well. There’s not many junior doctors that could intubate a patient under those sorts of circumstances. At least the patient was given every chance.’
‘I guess.’ Bill gave Clara a small wink. ‘I had a quick peek when he came in and he’s a good-looking guy, that Timothy.’
‘Don’t go there, Bill,’ Clara warned, but he carried on anyway.
‘Why ever not? He’s already lined you up for a dance. Maybe tonight won’t be such a disaster after all.’
‘Forget it. Tonight’s already a disaster.’ Standing up, Clara gave her favourite patient the benefit of a very nice smile. ‘How about a cuppa?
‘And some toast and Vegemite?’ Bill asked hopefully. ‘I’m not nil by mouth yet.’
‘Give me ten minutes to sort out your notes and I’ll make us both a round of toast. I could use some comfort food right now,’ Clara said warmly, thrilled that Bill’s appetite was finally returning.
And not just his appetite, Clara realised happily. Bill was flicking through the TV guide with more than passing interest.
‘There’s your favourite soap opera starting soon, Clara. Why don’t you pull up a chair and have your lunch-break here? I promise not to mention Kell.’
‘It’s a deal.’ Heading for the desk, Clara turned briefly, back in control now but still just a little shy at having finally revealed her secret. ‘You come back to us safe, Bill.’
‘I hope so.’
‘I know so.’
CHAPTER TWO (#u70589b2a-3ba4-5494-8056-85ca85157d1d)
BECAUSE it didn’t matter any more, because it mattered not a jot how well she did her make-up or how well her fine red hair behaved, tonight of all nights everything worked.
The subtle blonde foils Clara had reluctantly agreed to at Anna the hairdresser’s insistence lifted her short, practical hairstyle into a pretty gamine crop, accentuating her clear blue eyes and high freckled cheekbones. She hadn’t used the green foundation, though. She’d had it in her drawer for weeks, had bought it on an occasional trip to town, won over by the sophisticated shop assistant who’d sworn it would neutralise even the deepest blush.
Oh, and how she would have blushed.
Blinking back a fresh crop of tears, Clara tried to beat back the image of finally telling Kell how she felt. How she’d planned to take him outside, away from Abby, away from the prying eyes of the locals, and tell him that he wasn’t or ever had been just a friend…
Shaking her head firmly, Clara took a deep breath, refusing to go down that track, refusing to indulge herself in wasted dreams. Instead, she eyed herself critically in the mirror, pleased despite herself with her efforts. Even the rather shakily applied mascara and neutral lipstick for once didn’t look like a little girl had practised with her mother’s make-up. The antithesis of vain, she didn’t even possess a full-length mirror, so the only way to view her dress was by standing precariously on the toilet lid, which, Clara realised, didn’t really give the full effect when your head was chopped off from view.
Oh, lord!
Swallowing nervously, she stared at the sleek black-stockinged legs that seemed to go on for ever, a massive expanse of unfamiliar thigh slimmed down by the high heels she was wearing, but even the occasional appearance of her legs didn’t jolt her as much as the sight of her breasts, jacked up in a strapless bra, wriggling and jumping in excitement at their first taste of freedom from her practical sports bra.
It was too much, way, way too much! Everyone would fall off their chairs laughing when she walked in.
Glancing at her watch, Clara bit back a surge of panic. It was already ten past seven, she was supposed to be setting up the food table now, the band would be waiting for their pay cheque before they started and if she didn’t go now…
Picking up a massive tray of egg and chutney sandwiches, Clara headed for the door, then changed her mind midway. Dumping the tray in the hallway, she dashed back into her bedroom and drenched herself in perfume, then ran around the house in a manic frenzy, trying to remove every lingering trace of the beastly three dozen eggs she’d hard-boiled before heading outside and walking down the high street towards the barn and wondering why the hell she’d even bothered.
She’d be coming home alone.
Nobody laughed.
Oh, there were a few whistles and cat calls when she walked in, blushing furiously and wishing she wasn’t carrying a pile of sandwiches so she could hitch down her dress a bit, and a couple of the guys slapped her on the back as if they were bringing up her wind and reminded Clara that if she had any trouble tonight she only had to ask.
As if she’d run into any trouble, Clara sighed, adding her tray to the heaving table. As if she was going to have to beat off a stream of admirers with a stick.
‘You look fabulous, Clara!’ Shelly made a beeline for her. ‘Your dress is divine, you look just wonderful.’
‘So do you.’ Clara smiled. ‘Where’s Ross?’
‘I was about to ask you the same. He “popped” over to the clinic an hour ago. You didn’t see the Flying Doctors’ plane there when you went past by any chance?’
Clara shook her head. ‘He’s probably just writing up the transfer letter. Bill’s case is pretty complicated.’ The frown on Shelly’s face told Clara she wasn’t appeased. ‘He’ll be here soon. Anyway, the night’s still young, the band’s booked until one—speaking of which, I’d better go and pay them.’
‘Well, hurry back,’ Shelly whispered loudly. ‘There’s no Ross, no Kell and no Abby. Even Timothy hasn’t made his way over. Apart from me and the kids, our table’s the emptiest one in the barn.’
She would have hurried back—in fact, Clara would have loved to have sat down and had a glass of punch or champagne, but instead Hamo, Jim and Mitch all decided to get their duty dances out of the way early and the next twenty minutes or so were spent being twirled around the floor by various colours of checked shirts as the band sang about shearing sheep, billy tea and all the things Australians held dear after a few cans of beer. Arriving back at the table, her face flushed, giggling at one of Hamo’s more lewd jokes, her smile instantly faded as several strained faces turned to greet her.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Ross said too brightly.
‘Where’s Abby?’
‘The Flying Doctors came,’ Kell replied, without looking up. ‘They needed a doctor escort.’
‘Why?’ Clara asked immediately. The Flying Doctors were exactly that, and Bill wasn’t that sick at the moment. She couldn’t think of one possible reason why Abby would have needed to go. ‘Who was the doctor?’
‘Hall Jells. He just thought it would be safer if the clinic provided an escort,’ Ross responded, without meeting her eyes, and from the pained look Shelly was flashing at her Clara decided not to pursue it, instead taking a glass of champagne from Bruce, the local pilot who was doubling as a waiter, and trying to ignore just how divine Kell looked tonight.
‘So this is where all the action is.’ The appearance of Timothy lifted the mood somewhat. Everyone fell on him as if he were a long-lost friend, obviously grateful for the diversion, and Clara found herself frowning. She felt as if she’d turned on her favourite soap only to realise she’d missed an important episode. Everyone was talking normally, smiling and cheerful, but something wasn’t right.
Something was definitely going on.
‘I fell asleep,’ Timothy explained needlessly, and, choosing the chair next to Clara’s, he sat down and gave her the benefit of a very nice smile. ‘It was supposed to be a fifteen-minute power nap.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘But that was about four hours ago.’
‘Well, I’m glad you made it.’ It was merely a polite comment, just as she would have given to any newcomer, but Timothy caught her eye and suddenly the massive barn seemed to shrink.
‘Really?’ Timothy asked, as if it really mattered.
Taking a nervous sip of her champagne, Clara held it in her mouth for a second or two before swallowing, wishing she had used that blessed green foundation after all.
‘Really,’ she said finally, the admission surprising even herself.
Clean-shaven and freshly showered, Timothy was pretty easy on the eye, but it wasn’t just his undeniable good looks that were working their charm here. There was something about his smile that told Clara it was just for her.
‘You look wonderful,’ Timothy said very slowly and very deliberately, and for all the world he sounded as if he really meant it. ‘Your hair looks nice, different.’ Green eyes raked over her and Clara could feel her pulse flickering in her neck as he scrutinised her slowly.
‘I—I had foils,’ she stammered. ‘Just a couple…’
‘I’ve no idea what foils are.’ Timothy grinned.
‘A few blonde tips.’
Timothy nodded. ‘Looks great, although I love red hair.’
‘That’s because you haven’t got red hair,’ Clara countered, blushing ever deeper. And even though the conversation flowed easily, even though they were only talking about foils and hair and oversleeping, she felt as if she were caught in a rip, seemingly following the tide of a normal conversation as a throbbing undercurrent pulled her in an opposite, unfamiliar and definitely dangerous direction.
‘I’ll go and get another round. Clara, do you want to give me a hand?’ Kell asked, standing up. Instead of falling over her chair to help him as was usually the case, for the first time in living memory, Kell actually had to repeat himself as she laughed at something Timothy had said. ‘Clara, do you want to give me a hand with the drinks?’
‘I’m fine.’ Clara smiled, deliberately missing the point, gesturing to her half-full glass as Kell shrugged and turned to go.
‘I’ll help!’ Matthew jumped up, determined to impress his big buddy Kell. ‘We can play—’
‘Hide and seek,’ Kell groaned, but his face broke into a smile as he took little Matthew’s hand. ‘We’ll have one more game of hide and seek and then I’ll get that beer.’
‘How about that dance?’ Timothy pushed, but Clara shook her head, turning briefly to check Kell really was out of earshot.
‘How about someone telling me what’s going on,’ Clara said sharply to her friends gathered around the table. ‘Why on earth has Abby gone to Adelaide as a doctor escort?’
‘Tell her, Ross,’ Shelly choked, her voice unusually angry. ‘Tell Clara the mess you’ve made of things.’
Clara almost spilt her drink in surprise. Never in all the time she’s known Shelly and Ross had they been anything other than devoted to each other. She’d never heard so much as a cross word pass between them and now here they were practically rowing at the table in front of everyone. Something was wrong, seriously wrong, and Clara stared from one to the other with her mouth gaping open.
‘Come on, Ross!’ Timothy grinned eagerly and then shut up when every one turned and shushed him.
‘Abby’s gone,’ Ross started slowly, as Clara’s mouth dropped ever further. ‘She’s leaving tonight with the Flying Doctors. She found out Kell was going to propose and she simply couldn’t face it. She didn’t want to leave like this, but on the other hand she didn’t know how to say goodbye.’
‘Does Kell know?’ Clara’s voice was barely a croak. She wished she’d used the green foundation now. Her face must surely be as red as a beetroot as she struggled with the news, relief flooding her veins intermingled with a horrible surge of guilt as she glanced over to the bar where Kell stood.
‘No!’ It was Shelly speaking now, the bitterness in her voice clearly evident. ‘Ross is going to tell him that little gem later, once the ball’s over, though I’m sure he knows something’s up. The poor guy’s walking around with an engagement ring in his pocket and he doesn’t even know that Abby’s bolted!’ She turned her teary face to her husband. ‘Well, you can leave me out of it, Ross. I just can’t bear to see his face when you tell him what you’ve done.’
‘I didn’t do anything,’ Ross said through gritted teeth. ‘You were the one who had to go and spill the beans to Abby. If you’d just stayed out of it we wouldn’t be in this mess.’
‘So it’s my fault now.’
‘It isn’t anyone’s fault,’ Ross relented, putting a hand over Shelly’s. ‘It’s just the way things have turned out. Abby didn’t want to hurt Kell when she said no. She was beside herself and she didn’t know what else to do.’
‘But why?’ Clara asked, utterly bemused that anyone could run out on Kell. ‘Why would she leave when he was going to propose and everything?’
‘She just couldn’t deal with it,’ Ross said, tightlipped. ‘She belongs in the city—’
‘He’s coming back,’ Timothy interrupted, ‘so now might be a good time to change the subject.’
An awful silence followed as every one struggled to come up with something, until the baleful eyes that had silenced Timothy earlier begged him for help as Kell returned with a tray of beers.
‘We have pints in England!’ Timothy started, and Clara groaned into her wine at his dreadful efforts at conversation, but, as it turned out, Timothy was spot on. A lengthy discussion ensued between Kell and Timothy on the merits of pints versus schooners, warm versus icy cold and the alcohol content of either, giving the collective table enough time to exhale their held breaths and at least look as if a bombshell hadn’t been dropped.
It was a great evening.
People often wonder what committees do, how one little ball could take so many months of preparation. But all their work, all the painstaking attention to detail paid off a hundredfold as midnight struck and the lights dimmed a further notch, the bush music slowing to love ballads matching the mellower mood of the crowd.
‘What’s going on, Clara?’ Kell mumbled into his beer. ‘The Flying Doctors wouldn’t have needed an escort for Bill—you know that as well as I do. I’ve been trying to get you on your own all night to find out what’s happening. Please, Clara, I need to know.’
Blinking rapidly, trying to choose her words carefully, Clara put a tentative hand across the table, opening her mouth to speak and praying she’d say the right thing.
‘Time for that dance, I think.’ Never had Timothy’s timing been more appalling. Turning her angry eyes to him, she shook her head.
‘Not now, Timothy,’ she said, the irritation in her voice evident. Couldn’t he see this was a private conversation?
‘No excuses,’ Timothy responded cheerfully, pulling her reluctantly to her feet as Clara turned and gave an apologetic shrug to Kell.
‘Hold on a second.’ Making her way back to the table, ignoring Timothy’s obvious impatience, she met Kell’s eyes. ‘I’ll speak to you outside after this dance.’
‘What was that about?’ Timothy asked once they were on the dance floor.
‘Nothing.’ Clara shrugged, grateful the dance floor was so packed and she could bury her flaming cheeks in Timothy’s chest. She really was a useless liar.
‘Because it really wouldn’t be very sensible to tell Kell tonight.’
Startled, she looked up, surprised that he knew her secret.
‘It would probably sound better coming from Ross.’
Relief flooded her veins, pleased that he didn’t know her ulterior motives, but her relief was short-lived, turning instead into anger. She damned well wasn’t about to take advice from Timothy, he hadn’t even been in Tennengarrah a night yet. As if he knew what was best for Kell!
‘Just leave it, Timothy,’ she snapped. ‘You don’t know all that’s gone on.’
‘Keep your hair on.’
Rolling her eyes, Clara prayed the music would stop. OK, he was good-looking, funny at times and, yes, she admitted reluctantly he was a great dancer, but she hadn’t heard the saying ‘keep your hair on’ since high school and she certainly wasn’t going to let this overgrown teenager thwart her one stab at happiness tonight.
Abby had gone. Kell was devastated.
Why shouldn’t he hear the news from someone who cared?
‘Looks like they’ve made up,’ Timothy commented as Ross and Shelly floated by. Shelly’s eyes closed as she rested her head on Ross’s shoulder, a dreamy smile on her face as they drifted along out of time with the music.
‘It’s the first time I’ve heard a cross word between them,’ Clara admitted. ‘Mind you, Shelly was pretty excited about tonight, she wants the world to be as happy in love as she is.’
‘That’s a nice thing to want.’
Clara didn’t respond. Instead, she leant against Timothy, letting him lead, and perhaps for the first time that night she actually relaxed and enjoyed the fruits of the nine months of preparation that the ball had taken as she ambled along in time with the music, just enjoying the moment, enjoying the heavy throb of the bass and even revelling for a moment in the delicious spicy spell of his aftershave.
Timothy really was a good dancer, she thought almost reluctantly as the music stopped and they stood apart.
‘I love this song.’ Timothy smiled as the band started up again. ‘Can I persuade you to join me for a second dance?’
Clara hesitated. She loved this song, too, and if truth be known she’d actually enjoyed dancing with Timothy. It hadn’t been awkward like it was with some of the guys, hadn’t been the duty dance every man in Tennengarrah felt compelled to have with the trusty Clara. Timothy had actually made her feel like a woman, not some annoying little sister, but she’d promised to meet Kell.
‘Better not,’ Clara said, the reluctance in her voice surprising even herself. ‘But thanks, that was nice.’
Making her way across the room, she longed to dart into the toilet, desperate to check that she looked OK, to be sure she looked her best for the most difficult conversation of her life.
Gulping the night air into her lungs, she stared out into the darkness. The throb of music coming from the barn sounded a mile away as she stared up at the twinkling stars and begged for inspiration, her heart rate rising alarmingly as she heard heavy footsteps. Turning expectantly, forcing a smile, she stared into the darkness as he approached, not quite ready but determined not to miss her moment.
‘Timothy!’ The shock in her voice was evident. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Getting some fresh air.’ He shrugged. ‘The same as you.’
Clara raked her mind. She didn’t want to be rude, didn’t want to be obvious, and she definitely didn’t want to explain to Timothy why it was so important he left right now, but really he was leaving her with very little choice.
‘Please, Timothy,’ she started, her eyes turning frantically to the barn, her ears straining at the sound of approaching footsteps that she knew this time were definitely Kell’s. ‘I really need you to go.’
‘Why?’
‘I just do,’ Clara whispered loudly. ‘I really need to be on my own right now.’
‘No, you don’t.’
Aghast, she watched as he folded his arms and eyed her thoughtfully.
‘In fact, I’d say the best thing you could do right now is get yourself inside and have that other dance with me.’
‘Timothy, please, you don’t understand…’ she begged.
‘Oh, but I do,’ Timothy replied, and for the first time since she’d met him his voice was serious and there wasn’t a glimmer of humour in his green eyes. ‘You like Kell, don’t you?’
‘Of course I like Kell,’ Clara spluttered. ‘I’ve known him for—’
‘I don’t mean as a friend, Clara. You like Kell and you’re hoping that when you tell him about Abby, he’s going to realise just how much he actually likes you!’
Her shocked expression only confirmed his diagnosis.
‘You’re looking at a guy whose best friend was the captain of the rugby team,’ he offered by way of explanation. ‘I’ve spent more time than I care to remember watching other people’s relationships flourish from the sidelines of my beer glass.’
‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ Clara insisted. Kell was practically on top of them. Any moment now he’d see them together and she needed to be alone for this.
‘I don’t think so,’ Timothy responded, moving forward. ‘Now, I’m going to apologise in advance for what I’m about to do, and though you probably won’t realise it now, though you’re probably going to hate me for it, I’m about to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life.’
‘What on earth—?’
She didn’t get to finish, didn’t get to say another word. Suddenly a hot wedge of flesh was pressing against her, pinning her up against the barn wall as she struggled furiously, her automatic scream hushed by the weight of his lips, her arms clamped against his chest with absolutely no room for manoeuvre.
Yet for all the shock, for all the adrenaline pumping through her veins, fear didn’t enter into it. She knew Timothy’s infuriating intentions, knew the sight of her stockinged legs hadn’t catapulted him into a sexual frenzy. This was a duty kiss, she realised as she wrestled to get away, a duty kiss of the worst possible magnitude. And worse, far worse, despite struggling like a cat being dipped in water, despite her internal fury at her misdirected assailant, for the tiniest second, for a smidgen of time so small it was barely there, the fighting stopped, the resistance in her slipping away as other, rather more disturbing thoughts flitted into her mind.
Irrational thoughts that really shouldn’t be given any credence…
The tangy aftershave that had assailed her on the dance floor, stronger now at such close proximity, his heavy ragged breathing as his chest moved against hers, the feel of her breasts pushed against the cool cotton of his shirt, and the faint tang of whisky as his lips moved against hers.
‘Clara?’ She could hear Kell’s voice in the darkness, hear him closing in on them, and she made a last agonised struggle to escape. But Timothy was having none of it, his grip tightening on her more, if that was possible, as Kell approached.
‘Oh!’ She heard the surprise in Kell’s voice, the muffled cough as he backed away. ‘Sorry, guys.’
Only when Kell had gone, only when he was sure they were alone did Timothy pull away, his arms on the wall either side of her now like a temporary cage as he met her furious, glittering eyes.
‘How dare you?’ she started, her voice breathless, legs trembling with fury and something else that she would have died before admitting to. A great kisser he might be but she certainly wasn’t going to let this over-inflated, pompous Englishman know that two minutes up close and personal with him had had the slightest effect in the romance stakes. She was furious.
That was all.
‘How dare you?’ she repeated, her voice a touch stronger now but no match for Timothy who broke in before she could even get started.
‘Tonight’s not the night, Clara. It’s better coming from Ross.’
She shook her head incredulously, straightening up but still no match for his height even in her stilettos. ‘How would you know? You haven’t even been here a full day and you think you know what Kell needs. What, is it better coming from a guy? Better that a doctor breaks the news?’
Timothy shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but nothing was stopping Clara now. Her voice finally found, she let it rip.
‘Ross has only been here a year. I’ve known Kell all my life, so I don’t need Ross to tell me when I can and can’t talk to a friend, and I most certainly don’t need to hear it from you. He has every right to know, every right to hear it—’
‘I agree.’
‘You do?’ Confused, her voice stalled momentarily, the fire dying in her voice as she turned her questioning eyes to him.
‘Of course he should know about Abby, but that’s all. You can deny it all you like, but I’m sure there was more you were going to tell him and kissing you was the only thing I could think of to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life.’ Her burning anger was replaced with scorching shame, the glittering, defiant eyes sparkling with embarrassed tears as Timothy carried on gently, even smoothing a stray tendril of hair back behind her ear as she stood there, mortified.
‘And if you told Kell you loved him, that’s exactly what it would have been.’
‘Hey, Clara, is everything all right?’
Hamo’s none-too-dulcet tones made them both jump, Clara because she wasn’t expecting it and Timothy because from the look on Hamo’s face anything other than a positive reply wasn’t going to be pretty.
She could have said no, could have burst into tears and landed Timothy right in it, but instead she forced a bright voice as the heavy weight approached. ‘Everything’s fine, Hamo.’
‘You’re sure?’ he checked, eyeing Timothy in anything other than a friendly fashion. ‘Because if you need anything you only have to give us a call.’
‘I’m fine, Hamo, really.’
They both stood in strained silence as Hamo shrugged and wandered back to the barn.
‘Thanks.’ Timothy’s smile was one of pure relief, but it changed midway when he caught sight of Clara’s face.
If she’d been angry before she was furious now, the brief pause enough to reinflate her sails. Pushing his arms away, she faced him angrily.
‘I didn’t do it to save your skin,’ she snapped. ‘The fact is I hate violence or perhaps more to the point no doubt I’d have been the one who ended up suturing you and stuck in the obs ward for the next forty-eight hours feeding you through a straw.’
‘So we both got lucky.’ Timothy grinned, totally unfazed by her anger. ‘Can we go back to being friends now?’
‘We never were friends,’ Clara retorted. ‘I’d hardly even class you as a brief acquaintance.’
‘Oh, and I suppose you go around kissing all your brief acquaintances like that?’
His humour, if you could call it that, was so appalling Clara could scarcely believe the tiny laugh that escaped her lips, but somewhere in mid-laugh it changed to a sob, and as a tell-tale tear worked its way out Timothy politely pretended not to notice.
‘Is there somewhere we can sit down? Preferably on something that isn’t made of hay, or I’ll be sneezing all night.’ She was in no position to answer, tears were choking her now, and when Timothy took her by the hand and led her to a wooden bench she followed him without resistance, sitting on the edge and digging in her bag for a tissue.
‘You’re supposed to have a silk handkerchief,’ Clara sniffed, producing a huge ream of toilet paper.
‘I dropped it when I heard Hamo coming.’
They sat in silence for a moment or two, Timothy looking up at the endless stars, one hand loosely over the back of the bench behind her as Clara wept quietly on, blowing her nose and wishing he’d just go away then changing her mind when his hand reached for her shoulder and pulled her in. He let her cry without words, just patting her shoulder and waiting patiently till she’d reached the gulping stage before finally she spoke.
‘How did you know I liked him in that way? Is it that obvious?’
‘Only to me.’ She felt him shrug beneath her cheek. ‘I know I’m good-looking and everything, I know women swoon whenever I approach.’ He laughed and caught her wrist when she playfully thumped his chest. ‘But when you dropped those notes I knew it wasn’t because of my devilish charm. I figured Shelly had said something to upset you, and when I heard about Kell and Abby getting engaged, well, it seemed to fit.
‘I know you don’t believe me, I know you think I’m interfering, but it really would have been a bad move to tell him.’
‘Maybe not,’ she argued. ‘Maybe if he—’
‘Clara.’ Timothy pulled her face up. Cupping her chin with his hand, he gazed into her tear-filled eyes. ‘You look adorable tonight, Kell’s had too much to drink and once he finds out that Abby’s done a runner he’s going to be devastated. It doesn’t take Einstein to work out where it would all end up.’
Clara blinked back at him, her forehead furrowing, positive his lips were twitching as he stared back at her.
‘Bed,’ Timothy said patiently.
‘Maybe that’s what I wanted,’ Clara said defiantly, but Timothy just shook his head, any hint of a laugh fading as he stared back at her.
‘No, it isn’t, Clara. You think that’s what you wanted, but you know deep down that you’d have hated yourself in the morning. And worse, far worse, you’d have lost Kell as a friend.’
‘How do you know?’ The anger was back in her voice now. Pushing his hand away, she stood up, half expecting him to grab her, to pull her back beside him, but Timothy sat unmoved. ‘Maybe bed’s exactly where I wanted it to end up. And if you hadn’t decided to play the moral majority maybe bed’s where I’d be heading right now. And I tell you this much, Timothy, right now it sounds like a far better option than this!’
‘Go on, then, go back in there, go and tell him how you’re feeling, but half a bottle of wine and a broken heart really doesn’t put you in the best position to make rational decisions. Take it from someone who knows.’
She stood for a moment, torn with indecision, knowing Timothy to be right yet praying he was wrong.
‘We’ve all made mistakes,’ Timothy ventured, sensing weakness. ‘We’ve all had our hearts stomped on.’
‘Please.’ Clara flashed a tear-filled glare at him. ‘What would a good-looking doctor know about a broken heart?’
‘Plenty.’ He smiled. ‘I’ve only been a good-looking doctor for a year, remember. Eighteen months ago I fell hook, line and sinker for one of the RNs on a surgical ward, and when I say I was besotted by her I mean I was seriously besotted. I had the ring picked out before I’d even plucked up the courage to ask her on a date. She was seriously stunning. The only trouble was, I was working as a nurse’s aide…’
‘You were a nurse’s aide?’
‘I had to pay my bills. Anyway it was good experience, taught me how to actually speak to patients, which is something even the best medical schools don’t even touch. Anyway, Rhonda never even glanced in my direction, not even once, until we were at a party. You know the type—a load of doctors, nurses and med students and way too much booze and suddenly she was all over me.’ He gave a cheeky grin. ‘It was the best night of my life. I’ll spare you the details, but I’m sure you get the picture. She was on an early shift and I told her I’d see her later that day at work and we’d go out for dinner, maybe go and see a band or something.’
‘Sounds nice,’ Clara commented.
‘It would have been,’ Timothy agreed. ‘Only, when she saw me on the ward the next day in my nurse’s aide uniform her face dropped a mile and she told me that she couldn’t possibly meet me later, that something had come up. And that was that.’
‘She dumped you for that?’
Timothy winced and nodded. ‘Of course, I should have told her I was really a medical student, that one day she’d get the doctor she so clearly wanted.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
Timothy shrugged. ‘Too much false pride, I guess. I wanted her to want me for me.’
‘Fair enough.’
After a moment’s thought she sat down beside him.
‘The story doesn’t end there, though.’ His arm slid behind her in what should have comforting brotherly sort of way but suddenly Clara was having terrible trouble breathing. ‘There’s going to be a huge postscript.’
When Clara didn’t respond he carried on regardless. ‘After I finish here I’m going to do my diving course and I’m going to walk back onto that surgical ward with a white coat on, tanned as brown as a conker, and…’
‘And what?’
‘I don’t know.’ Timothy frowned. ‘The fantasy gets a bit hazy there. Either we’ll walk off into the sunset and live happily ever after, or I’ll be terribly cruel and pretend I don’t even remember her name and totally ignore her relentless advances. I haven’t quite worked the ending out yet, but when I do I’ll let you know.’
‘Revenge is a dish best eaten cold,’ Clara said with more than a trace of bitterness, smiling when she saw Timothy’s startled expression.
‘It’s an Arabic saying,’ she explained. ‘I have the same sort of fantasies, I think it’s because I watch too many soaps.’
‘What’s your favourite?’
‘My favourite soap or my favourite fantasy?’ Clara sighed. ‘OK, you asked for it. I dream that maybe one day Kell will wake up and realise how much he adores me, realise that he simply can’t live without me, and when he tells me I’ll just shrug and say he’s too late, that I’ve moved on, that…’ Her voice trailed off, the tears starting again as she realised the futility behind so many wasted dreams.
‘What do I do now, Timothy?’ The indecision in her voice was so alien that for a moment there even she didn’t recognise it. She was a bush nurse, for heaven’s sake, used to thinking on her feet, used to making life-and-death decisions completely unaided, but right here, right now she’d never felt more unsure in her life.
‘Go home,’ Timothy said gently.
‘I can’t.’ Clara shook her head. As appealing as his suggestion was, there were a million and one jobs to be done tonight and most had Clara’s name on them. ‘There are the chairs to be stacked, the barn to be—’
‘You’d have left it for Kell,’ Timothy pointed out, ‘so why not let someone else do it?’ He had her hand now and was leading her away from the barn, away from Kell and a half a life’s worth of dreams. And after only a moment’s hesitation, after only a tiny glance backwards, Clara realised, to her own amazement, that she was meekly walking away with Timothy taking the lead.
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