The Doctor's Outback Baby

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.