In Dr Darling's Care. Marion Lennox

a last angry gasp.

      ‘Fine, then. I’ll pack.’

      And she left Lizzie and Harry alone.

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

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

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

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

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

      ‘You’ll stay on?’

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

      ‘Not by me. And you hit me.’

      ‘You ran into my car.’

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

      ‘Your mind was on other things?’

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

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

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

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

      ‘May’s told you everything.’

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

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

      ‘She won’t suicide on my patch.’

      ‘You’re very sure.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

      She wrinkled her nose. ‘Heavy, huh?’

      ‘You have no idea.’

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

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

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

      ‘Use the doctor’s quarters.’

      ‘What—your place?’

      ‘I won’t be there.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

      ‘You have no idea.’

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

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

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

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

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