The Doctor’s Special Touch

CHAPTER SIX

UNLIKE Darcy, when Ally hit the pillow she went out like a light. She was exhausted past belief, and although she’d thought the trauma of the day would keep her staring at the ceiling it did no such thing.

She’d saved Marilyn’s life.

The thought was like some sort of heat bag that she could hug, warming parts of her she hadn’t known were cold. It took away the awfulness of the day, the horror of facing Jerry. The pain.

And Jerry was in jail. She hadn’t been able to stop him all those years ago but now he’d spend years behind bars. All the people whose lives he’d messed with in the past would read about it in the newspapers and say to themselves, He’s a convicted felon. He’s of no worth.

And if he was of no worth then the fact that he’d indoctrinated the same belief into them could somehow-please?-be assuaged.

It was a fine thought. It let her relax into her pillows with a sigh of contentment, and that was her last thought for a very long time.

She woke to banging.

Urgent banging.

She opened one eye and glanced cautiously at her bedside clock. Eight-fifteen.

This was her first morning of being open for business, she thought with a little glow of anticipation. She had a sign on the door saying she was ready for clients from nine a.m. Maybe this was the first one.

Maybe that was wishful thinking. Surely a potential client wouldn’t be banging with such urgency when it was three quarters of an hour before her advertised opening.

The sun was streaming in the window through the crimson oak leaves. She refused to be apprehensive on a morning like this, she told herself. She tossed back her covers, padded over to the window in her oversized T-shirt and threw open the window. Darcy was right below. He had his arms full of parcels, there were two dogs at his heels and he was banging on her door like he was really, really impatient.

‘I’m not open until nine,’ she said cautiously. ‘If you want a massage, you need to come back.’

He stood back and looked up.

‘It’s about time. I’ve been thumping on your door for five minutes.’

‘I was asleep.’ She let indignation enter her voice. He unsettled her but she wasn’t about to let him know that.

‘Let me in.’

‘I’m not dressed.’

‘I have breakfast,’ he said, and she thought about it. And glanced across to her bench where a solitary tea bag mocked her.

‘Breakfast?’

‘Eggs. Bacon. Tomatoes, crumpets, butter, orange juice, bananas, coffee, milk…’

‘Enough.’ There was a part of her-a really big part of her-that was saying, Stay away from this man. He disconcerted her and, more, he represented a world she no longer wanted anything to do with. But he was looking up with an expression that was a strange mix of hope and happiness.

He looked great. He’d lost his tie-his shirt was open and his trousers were more casual than the ones she’d seen him in until now. His hair was sort of tousled and soft.

He was smiling.

The feeling she’d gone to sleep with-that God was in his heaven and all was right with her world-was a sensation she’d hardly ever felt. Now here was this man and his face said he was feeling exactly the same. And he made the sensation grow.

Then there was the fact that his dogs were looking up at her, too, their huge eyes just as hopeful as their master’s. If she locked him out, she wouldn’t get a chance to hug his dogs.

She really needed her own dog. But meanwhile…

‘OK,’ she told him, trying to make her voice sound grudging. ‘Give me five minutes to get dressed.’

‘One minute,’ he told her. ‘Otherwise the boys and I will start on the bacon.’

‘Three minutes. Don’t you dare.’

She moved.

This was her opening day, she reminded herself as she had the world’s fastest shower and hauled on jeans and T-shirt. She’d change for work later.

From one lot of faded clothes to another?

So what? Her bubble of happiness refused to be dissolved because of worry that she didn’t have the right outfit. Today was her first day of being a professional massage therapist, and she’d enjoy it. As she’d enjoy hugging Jekyll and Hyde. And eating breakfast with their master?

Enough. Don’t ask questions, she told her reflection. She dragged a comb though her hair, took a disparaging look at herself in the cracked mirror over the bathroom basin, stuck out her tongue-and went to let in breakfast.

She smiled as she swung the door wide. He smiled, too, but then his smile faded.

She took an involuntary step backward.

‘What?’ she said, a trifle breathlessly.

‘You’re a doctor.’

It was like a slap. Oh, let’s get right to the point, she thought.

‘Did you smile at me just so I’d let you in?’ she demanded, and he looked confused.

‘No, I…’

‘Then smile again, or I’m not letting you in. Breakfast or not. This is a gorgeous morning and I refuse to let you spoil it.’ She glowered her best glower, and then she sighed as his smile didn’t return. He was looking as if he didn’t have a clue who or what she was.

Well, maybe she had to face this some time. She’d asked for it. And turning away Jekyll and Hyde would be just plain cruel. ‘OK, forget the inquisition and bring in the bacon,’ she told him. ‘Or are you just dropping it off and running?’

‘I’m here to share.’

‘Then come in. But you have to be nice.’

‘Of course I’ll be nice.’

‘You don’t be nice by saying “You’re a doctor” as if you’re saying “You’re a particularly poisonous and unwashed scorpion”.’

It didn’t produce so much as a glimmer of a smile. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I did,’ she said in some indignation. ‘In fact, in case you hadn’t noticed, I painted the fact in letters six feet high right next to the place you work. Dr Westruther. Bright blue paint. I seem to remember that you noticed.’

‘I didn’t mean…’

Her glower deepened. She took the parcels from his arms and marched up the stairs without looking back. ‘Come on, guys,’ she said to Jekyll and Hyde. ‘Your master’s being thick. Come help me cook while we wait for him to come to his senses. I hope he’s brought some for you, too.’

She didn’t speak to him again. She marched over to her cooker and busied herself hauling out pans and toaster and plates, then started to cook bacon-of which there was an entirely satisfactory amount. She was aware of him watching her in silence, as if he didn’t have a clue what she was.

Great. She had him nicely off balance. That was how it should be, and long might it last. The fact that she was thoroughly disconcerted as well had to be ignored.

‘I looked at the Medical Board web-site,’ he told her at last. ‘At six this morning.’

She focussed on her bacon. ‘Gee,’ she said dryly. ‘How fascinating. I thought about it. At six a.m. I remember thinking, Will I wake up and look on the Medical Board web-site? Or will I sleep for another couple of hours? Hard choice.’

She knew he still wasn’t smiling. But there was no way she was looking.

‘You’re listed as a doctor.’

She sighed. ‘How about that?’

‘You’re registered.’

‘Most doctors are.’

‘Your qualifications are on the site. When I found your name, I rang a friend who organises the internships from your university. He said not only did you do brilliantly at university, you’ve also done the first part of obstetric training. You passed with flying colours.’

‘My, you have been busy. Did your friend thank you for ringing him at six a.m.?’

‘Ally, will you look at me?’

‘I’m cooking bacon.’

There was an exasperated sigh. ‘For heaven’s sake…’

‘For heaven’s sake what?’

‘If you’re a qualified doctor with brilliant obstetric training, what the hell are you doing in a dump like this?’

Then she turned. She stood with her back to the stove and surveyed what he would be seeing. Her little apartment consisted of one room. The floor was bare linoleum, with a few cracks and holes. A mattress on the floor was her bed. She hadn’t pulled up the blankets. Unmade bed was bad, she thought ruefully. Never entertain visitors with an unmade bed. But, then, he had brought breakfast.

What else? She had a folding table, one upright chair and one ancient squishy chair hauled over to the window so she could read in good light. There was a dingy little bathroom leading off at the back and that was all.

Home.

But this room was a means to an end. Eventually it’d be another massage area. If things worked out.

Meanwhile… ‘Are you saying my apartment is a dump?’ she asked, her voice dangerous. ‘Or is it this town you’re describing? Either way you’re out of line.’

He shook his head in disbelief. ‘What on earth have you done with your salary for the last six years? And why aren’t you practising as a doctor?’

The dogs were nosing around her ankles. She bent and hugged them, buying herself time to consider.

‘I spend my money on wild living,’ she said at last. ‘And what I do is my choice.’

‘My friend, Steven, said you were top of your year. He said you’re one of the best doctors he ever trained. And there’s no blemish against you. No lawsuit.’

‘Oh, of course,’ she said cordially. ‘Go straight to the obvious. That I must have been drummed out of medicine with a lawsuit.’

‘I didn’t think that,’ he told her. ‘Last night Paul said you were the best doctor he’s ever seen. Marilyn owes her life to you.’

‘How is she?’ Ally was still hugging dogs but her voice was suddenly anxious. In truth, she’d hated leaving last night. It had been panic that had driven her away. She hadn’t been ready to face questions that she still wasn’t ready to face now. But Marilyn…

‘She’s good. No, she’s great. We’ve organised an air ambulance to take her to Melbourne at midday. Her daughter, Sue, is driving here now to accompany her. With the bypass surgery she’s finally agreed to, her prognosis is excellent. Thanks to you.’

‘G-good.’ She continued to concentrate on the dogs. ‘And Kevin?’

‘Kevin has a really bruised throat but he’ll survive. I have him on oxygen and sedatives. He’s going to take a lot of counselling.’

‘They all will.’ She hesitated but she needed to ask. ‘And the kids?’

‘I think Jody’s turned the corner. She sat up this morning and drank a little lemonade. And the other two are fine. I’ve let their mothers take them back to the refuge.’

‘Good.’ She faltered. ‘Great.’

‘The bacon’s burning.’

She looked up at him then, her eyes meeting his. Locking.

It was a strange moment. A harsh moment. The dogs were nuzzling her, investigating her jeans and her shoes, and her hands were fondling their ears. But she was caught. By Darcy. He was staring down at her as if he was seeing something he’d never seen before-and she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

The bacon spat, a great hissing splat that had the dogs looking up in hopeful expectation of a rasher zooming downward. It broke the moment, but still… As she rose to attend to her cooking, he reached forward to turn the gas ring down and she brushed his body and…

And nothing, she told herself fiercely. And nothing at all. How could brushing against someone cause something that was almost an electric jolt?

This was ridiculous.

‘How many eggs?’ she asked, a trifle breathlessly, and somehow she regrouped and forced her voice into neutral. ‘I’m…I’m having two.’

‘Of course you are,’ he agreed, taking the egg container. Their fingers brushed. Damn, there it went again. That frisson of inexplicable sensation. ‘I’ll do that. You need to put the crumpets in the toaster.’

‘I know.’ She turned away with relief. What on earth was happening?

Concentrate on breakfast.

She waited until the crumpets popped up, buttered them, placed them on plates and turned to let him load them with eggs and bacon.

Still that tension.

‘Did Jerry starve you?’ he asked curiously, and she gave him a reluctant smile.

‘Jerry hasn’t been in the position of being able to do anything to me for seventeen years.’

‘So you starve yourself?’

‘No,’ she told him.

‘Then why isn’t your fridge full?’

‘I have other things to do with my money.’

‘Other things than eat?’

‘Leave it alone.’ She took her plate and stalked across to the armchair by the window, and the dogs came to sit adoringly at her feet. ‘Ask your master for some, guys,’ she told them. She turned to their master. ‘You can have the chair and the table.’

‘Gee, thanks.’

‘It’s the least I can do when someone brings me my breakfast.’ Then she addressed herself to her food, studiously not looking at him. She had no idea why he had the effect on her that he did. She didn’t understand and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to.

Darcy loaded his own plate. He looked across at her for a long moment but she kept right on eating. Regardless. Finally he did, too.

The silence continued. Then he set his plate aside. ‘Ally?’

‘Yes?’

Mistake. She shouldn’t have given him an opening, she thought. But she had and he took it.

‘Ally, I need to know-’

‘You need to know nothing.’

‘You’re a qualified doctor.’

‘See, you know already.’

‘But I need-’

‘What?’ She flashed him an irritated glance. ‘What do you need?’

‘Help,’ he said flatly. ‘You know that. This place is impossible for one doctor.’

‘My grandfather managed it. You can manage it.’

‘The population around here is ten times what it was when your grandfather worked here. I can’t cope. People die because I can’t be everywhere at once.’

She glared at that. ‘Don’t blackmail me.’

‘I’m not blackmailing you. But I need to understand-’

‘You don’t need to understand anything. I’m not a doctor.’

‘Then why are you paying registration fees?’

Good question. She bit her lip. That was the final step, but until now…

It wasn’t going to make a difference, she told herself miserably. She’d gone through it. She’d made her decision. Whatever she did could make no difference now.

‘Look, Darcy, breakfast was great,’ she told him. ‘But yesterday I had no business to interfere with Marilyn.’

‘You saved her life.’

‘Yeah, and it felt good,’ she admitted. ‘So I can’t say I’m sorry. But I don’t want any part of it. Not any more. I’m no longer a doctor.’

‘You are.’

‘I’m not,’ she said flatly.

‘Why on earth not?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘If I can just use you for back-up-’

‘You can’t.’ She shrugged. ‘This is stupid. I’m not a practising doctor any more. I’m a massage therapist. If someone stopped being a train driver and started being a florist, no one would ask them to do a little train driving on the side.’

‘In an emergency they would. If the train was stuck.’

‘Maybe for the first six months. When they still had the skills.’

‘You still have the skills.’

‘They’ll fade. I won’t keep them up.’ She took a deep breath. She’d made this decision and she had to see it to its logical conclusion. ‘Darcy, like it or not, I’m immovable on this. I’ve changed. I do a great massage. I can make people feel good. I love my new job.’

‘But there’s no need-’

‘For people to feel good? You’re telling me that the massage I gave to Lorraine last night wasn’t effective? And Gloria? No one’s touched her since her husband died. I bet she went to bed last night and slept like a baby. I love what I do, Darcy Rochester. It’s what I am. It’s who I am.’

‘You’re a doctor.’

‘I’m a masseuse.’

‘You’re hiding.’

‘And you’re not?’

He paused. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘You’re not running from the tragedy of your wife’s death?’

He stared. ‘What the hell…?’

‘You can’t run from the past.’

There was a moment’s silence while he thought about that. ‘Is that why you came back here, then?’ His voice was almost a whisper. His tone was that of discovery. Like he’d discovered the truth. ‘You came back to face the past?’

Ouch. It was so close to the truth that it made her flinch. But she wasn’t about to give this man the upper hand.

‘If I’m doing that then it’s more than you’re doing.’

‘You know nothing about it,’ he told her. ‘Rachel and I-’

‘I don’t need to hear.’

‘You do, you know,’ he told her, and his voice became even more gentle. ‘You accused me of running when nothing could be further from the truth. Rachel and I had a wonderful relationship. A wonderful marriage.’

‘I don’t-’

‘We met in high school,’ he told her, ignoring her interruption. ‘We were best of friends. We started med school together and then Rachel was diagnosed with leukaemia. We went through five years of treatment and remission and treatment and remission and finally we faced her death. Together.’

‘I’m…I’m sorry.’

‘But the thing is,’ he said, his voice suddenly relentless, ‘that I kept faith with our dream. We’d always wanted to practise in the country. Always. With Rachel’s illness it wasn’t possible, but we used to escape every chance we had and drive through remote little hamlets, figuring out where our ideal practise would be as soon as Rachel got better.’

‘I-’

‘But she didn’t get better,’ he told her, his voice flat, almost ruthless. ‘Six months after she died, though, I came back to the town we’d decided was the perfect place to work. Here. So how the hell you think I’m running away…’

So much for a perfect day. She was feeling about three inches tall.

‘So I’m not hiding,’ he told her. ‘But you…’

‘I’m not.’

‘You’re running from medicine.’

‘No!’

‘Then why-?’

‘Leave it.’

‘I’m damned if I will. Not without a reason. Ally, this town doesn’t need a massage therapist. It’s desperate for a doctor.’

‘It has you.’

‘We could work together. There’s plenty of work for us both to make a living.’

‘Why would I want to work with you?’ she demanded in desperation. ‘You just keep shouting at me.’

Silence. Stalemate. He was staring at her in baffled frustration.

More silence.

‘You know, you won’t make a living,’ he said at last. ‘No one will come.’

‘They might.’

‘Maybe one or two.’

‘In five minutes,’ she said, glancing at her watch, ‘I’m opening my front door as a massage therapist. I’d imagine in five minutes you’ll be starting work as you always do next door. We’re professional colleagues but in different professions. Now, if you’ll excuse me…’

‘I won’t excuse you.’

But it seemed he had no choice. There was a shout from below. A woman’s voice.

‘Ally. Ally Westruther. You’re wanted down here. Now!’

Silence.

‘Ally,’ the voice called again, and Ally smirked.

‘This’ll be my first customer,’ she told him, and he raised his brows in disbelief.

‘You wish.’

‘Yeah, and you just wish I’d go away.’

‘Of course I don’t. But if you’re going to advertise that you’re a doctor…’

‘Ally!’

‘It’s Betty,’ Darcy snapped. ‘My receptionist. So much for your first customer.’ He gave Ally a last frustrated glance and strode to the still open window.

‘I’m here,’ he called-and then he stopped.

Ally peered over his shoulder.

It wasn’t just Betty.

Half the population of Tambrine Creek seemed to be assembled out on the main street. People waving balloons, banners, placards. People holding plates of food. Guys with crates of what looked like glasses, and more crates with bottles of…champagne?

‘Darcy.’ Betty was standing on Ally’s front step, holding a huge tray of sandwiches. ‘What are you doing up here?’

‘Um…visiting,’ he said weakly, and Ally was pushing him aside and shoving her head out the window.

‘Betty,’ she said in astounded delight, and she leaned so far that Darcy caught hold of her and held on. She leaned further and he was forced to hold tighter.

‘Hey,’ she said, her face breaking into a huge smile as she saw the extent of the congregation assembled in her street. The balloons. The placards. ‘It’s a party.’

‘It surely is,’ Betty told her. ‘Read the placards. Hush, everyone.’ She turned and waved and the crowd fell silent. They must have been under instruction, Ally thought, stunned. There’d been absolute silence until Betty had called out, but as Ally appeared there was a swelling murmur of speculation.

Doctor caught in bedroom of massage therapist. Whoops.

But Betty was in charge and speculation wasn’t on the agenda. She handed her sandwich tray to someone and braced in speech position.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she said, and someone at the back gave a derisory hoot.

‘Yeah, and the rest of us. Get on with it, Betty.’

‘I just want to say something about Ally.’

‘Say it.’

Betty grinned. She smiled up at Ally, her broad, kind face taking in the fact that Darcy was leaning out as well.

‘Ally’s come back,’ she said, turning to the crowd again. ‘Our Ally. We hated seeing her go all those years ago and we’re delighted she’s back. We love the fact that she’s setting up in this town and we’re tickled pink that there’s a Dr Westruther in town again.’ Her beam widened still more and she motioned to the mass of banners.

WELCOME ALLY, the sign said.

And…

MASSAGE ROCKS, said another.

And…

WE LOVE DR WESTRUTHER, said a third.

‘This morning Ally thought she was opening for business without fanfare,’ Betty told them. ‘But when any business opens there should be a ceremony and when any house starts being lived in there should be a house-warming. So this is it, Ally, dear,’ she said, turning again to smile up at Ally. ‘We started an appointment book for you, and you’re booked out solid from eleven a.m. this morning for the rest of the week. But for now…welcome to your Welcome-to-Tambrine-Creek party, Ally Westruther. Come on down.’

Nine o’clock on a Tuesday morning was a really stupid time for a street party but that was what was happening. Darcy stood on the doorstep of his surgery and gazed at the party-goers in disbelief.

Betty, he thought. It had to be Betty who’d organised this whole thing and, as if on cue, she appeared at his elbow.

‘Isn’t this lovely?’

‘You never welcomed me like this,’ he said with a grudging smile, and she smiled back.

‘No, but you didn’t need it. When you arrived we were overjoyed to see you, but you were still sore after Rachel’s death and we knew enough to welcome you gently.’

‘You knew about Rachel’s death before I arrived?’

‘It’s a small town,’ she said simply. ‘Everyone knows everyone else’s business, and if they don’t know it they worry. That’s why it was so amazing that Jerome Hatfield’s been up on the ridge all this time and we didn’t realise it was him.’

‘So the small-town network let you down.’ He gazed out to where Ally was balancing a glass of champagne in one hand, a lamington in the other, and was submitting to someone looping balloons through her earrings. ‘Did you know Ally was a real doctor?’

‘We haven’t seen Ally for nearly twenty years. I know her dad died years back and her mother’s been in and out of mental institutions.’

‘Her mother’s still alive?’

‘As far as I know.’ She hesitated. ‘You know, that’s one of the reasons everyone’s making such a fuss. There are people who feel guilty that we should have done more to help Ally, and also her mother.’

‘Why?’

‘Her mother, Elizabeth, was only fifteen when she got pregnant to Ally’s father,’ Betty told him. ‘Elizabeth’s father-Ally’s grandfather-was rigid with rage. He hauled her into the surgery right here and examined her and he came storming out like he was going to explode. He’d had such plans for her. She was really bright and I can remember he’d told everyone she was going to be the next town doctor. Until that day. I was a junior then, and I remember cowering back, thinking he was going to hit me. Thinking he was going to hit someone. “Get me Saul Newitt on the phone,” he yelled. Saul Newitt was the nearest obstetrician with a…well, with a dubious reputation. “She’s going to have an abortion right now.” But while he was ranting Elizabeth took off. She climbed out a back window and Ally’s dad must have been waiting because they disappeared.’

He flinched. Hell. Poor lonely kid. ‘Did Dr Westruther try to find them?’

‘Oh, of course he did,’ she told him. ‘But they were gone. And maybe they had reason if her father was going to force her to have an abortion. Then when the little one was about four, Elizabeth brought Ally home. You wouldn’t have believed it was the same girl. All the life had gone out of her. The old man didn’t help-he gave her a hard time every minute she was here-and when she disappeared again he didn’t try to find her.’

‘But you knew where she’d gone.’

‘She told someone-Marilyn, I think-in case something happened to the old man. So when Ally’s grandpa died we found her. Only it was too late. Elizabeth was really sick then.’

‘Sick?’

‘Just…empty,’ she said. ‘Ally’s father came and took Ally away but Elizabeth was finished. It was written up in the newspapers when Jerry was arrested. Her mental instability. How Ally had to go into a foster home. It was a really sad story.’ She sighed and then looked determinedly to where a laughing Ally was surrounded by a sea of balloons.

‘But who would have thought she’d end up back here? She must have ended up with really good foster-parents. Paul’s told everyone what happened last night. A qualified doctor as well as a masseuse.’ She grinned and nudged him. ‘You can’t whinge now about her sign.’

He tried a glower to match Ally’s. ‘I can whinge if I want.’

‘Misery.’ She laughed and he was forced to smile as well. But he had to move on. ‘Come and have some champagne,’ she said, and he shook his head.

‘I have patients booked.’

‘They cancelled,’ she told him. ‘Everyone wanted to be at the party.’

‘Great. That’ll make my afternoon frantic.’

‘Do you have to be a grouch?’

‘I guess not.’ He was still watching Ally moving among the townspeople as if they were her family. She looked…happy, he thought, and suddenly he didn’t begrudge her a moment of it. Why should he?

This was nothing to do with him, he told himself. Five days ago he had been the sole doctor in this town, and nothing had changed. He had no right to try and impose a medical career on someone who didn’t want it. Sure, Ally’s path might be incomprehensible, but it was her path and she had the right to follow it.

It was none of his business.

It didn’t make him feel any better, though. He stood and watched her and suddenly he was washed with a surge of loneliness-of longing-a feeling so strong that it matched those he’d experienced in the first awful months after Rachel died. Six long years ago.

What the hell was he thinking of? He shook himself, pushing away sensations he didn’t understand.

‘I’ll do the house calls I couldn’t fit in last night,’ he told Betty, and she cast him a strange look.

‘OK, but be back by eleven.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’ve booked you from eleven,’ she told him with exaggerated patience. ‘We don’t want to keep A-anyone waiting.’

Darcy did four house calls in two hours-all to patients who weren’t far from the hospital. He couldn’t go far because of Marilyn’s needs.

So he saw one influenza-well, head cold really, but if Rosie Lenmon wanted to insist it was influenza, he wouldn’t argue. He saw two elderly patients for routine checks and Bert Prine with quinsy. He admitted Bert to hospital, gave him intravenous antibiotics, analgesia and a lecture on not getting his affected throat seen to earlier-and then did a quick check on all his patients while he was there.

Everything was great. Marilyn was soundly asleep, which was what she desperately needed. The medical notes were written up for her transfer to Melbourne. She’d received such a fright that when she’d woken first thing this morning, she’d agreed without a single argument to whatever Darcy had suggested. Soon her daughter would arrive to accompany her on the Med-Flight-Transfer-and see she didn’t change her mind.

Kevin also was asleep. He was heavily sedated. He needed psychiatric help, Darcy thought, looking down at the little man in concern. As soon as his throat settled he’d talk him through the options.

Not yet. For now, sleep was the only answer. Sleep and food and kindness.

Maybe that was the only cure.

His last concern was Jody, and Jody was asleep as well. Margaret was sitting by her daughter’s bedside, eating a lamington that had been provided by the street-party revellers. When Darcy glanced around the door she looked as if she was in heaven. Darcy didn’t disturb her. It’d be a cruel thing, to interrupt a woman’s first association with a lamington in years.

The helicopter arrived then, landing behind the hospital, and Marilyn’s daughter arrived as well. The next half-hour was busy with organising the transfer. Finally as the doctors on board took over Marilyn’s care, he stood back to bid Sue the best of luck.

‘I wish I had time to thank Ally,’ Sue told him. ‘I came as fast as I could. But I need to go with Mum. You will thank her for me?’

‘Of course I will.’ He hesitated. It wasn’t the time or the place but… ‘You knew Ally when you were kids?’

‘We were best friends. She used to love coming to our place. Mum and Dad wanted to care for her when her grandpa died but then that creep of a father came to get her. Both her parents were living with that Jerry creature.’ She hesitated. ‘I can’t believe he’s turned up here after all these years. Mum rang me about him last night and I’ve been wondering whether the fuss pushed her into heart failure. She was so upset when Ally was put into foster care.’

‘Did you keep in touch with Ally?’

She shrugged, watching the paramedics lifting her mother’s stretcher into position. ‘We tried,’ she told him. ‘The first time Jerry was arrested, Ally was put into a foster home. Mum and Dad tried to see if we could have her but Social Services insisted on keeping all the kids from the commune together.’

‘Sue?’

The doctor on board was calling. Her mother was ready and Ally’s problems had to be put aside. She gave Darcy a rueful smile and then hugged him. ‘Thank you for giving me Mum back,’ she said simply.

‘Thank Ally.’

‘Hug Ally for me, too,’ she told him. ‘She needs all the hugs she can get.’

That was the end of Darcy’s medical imperatives. He walked back to his consulting rooms feeling as if he ought to be pleased, but he was vaguely uneasy. Why? The revellers had gone. He could get back to normal.

From now on he could ignore Ally, he told himself, medical qualifications or not.

She needs all the hugs she can get.

His dogs were trotting by his side. ‘Maybe I’ll lend her you guys,’ he told them.

They wagged their tails, as if in total agreement, and he felt a stupid, irrational surge of something that surely couldn’t be jealousy? Could it?

Jealous that she’d hug his dogs? He was going out of his mind.

Betty was waiting for him. She was sitting at reception and she had her arms folded, like she was guarding the entrance against unwanted intruders. She patted the dogs and pointed to their baskets, waiting until they’d obeyed the woman who was clearly more their boss than their designated master, and then she turned her attention back to Darcy.

‘You’re not wanted here,’ she told him.

‘As far as I know, this is where I’m expected to be,’ he said dryly, tossing his bag into the corner and reaching for his normal pile of patient notes. They weren’t there. ‘It’s eleven o’clock. I have appointments.’

‘You have an appointment,’ she corrected him. ‘One appointment. Singular.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Next door.’ She smiled at his look of bemusement. ‘It’s the town’s surprise. We talked about who was going to have first go. Gloria sneaked in while no one was looking, but we decided that Ally’s first real patient should be someone special. And after last night there was no question. So the town’s people have clubbed together and we’ve paid for Ally’s first massage. We’ve given it to you.’

He gazed at her as if he couldn’t see her. ‘To me,’ he said stupidly.

‘Now, don’t you dare tell us you won’t accept it,’ she said, making her voice severe. Which didn’t quite match her mischievous twinkle. ‘Even people who could barely afford it put twenty cents toward this. It’s the town’s gift to both of you. An hour and a half’s massage. No one’s booked here until two. Off you go next door, and don’t come back until you’re so relaxed you’re horizontal.’

‘You have to be kidding.’

‘I’m not kidding. Ally’s waiting.’

‘I’m not going to have a massage with Ally.’

‘Then half the town will have their feelings hurt and Ally won’t have a first client. Do you want that to happen?’

‘No, but-’

‘You’re afraid.’

‘Of course I’m not.’

‘Then what are you waiting for?’ she demanded. ‘Do you want to be known as a stubborn, cantankerous old stick-in-the-mud who’s refusing to admit that there might be some advantage in holistic remedies? Or are you going to accept this gift?’

‘You don’t think there might be some middle ground?’ he asked cautiously, and she shook her head.

‘Nope.’ She grinned. ‘There’s not. A dozen people have decided their medical problems aren’t so urgent that they can’t wait until after your massage, Dr Rochester. Now, if you intend to sit here and sulk…’

‘I’m not sulking.’

‘No,’ she told him, and rose from her desk and started to push him out the door. ‘You’re going next door. Ally’s waiting. Off you go. Right now!’