A Courageous Doctor Read online

  Hugo ran an experienced eye over the exhausted and somewhat bewildered-looking audience. ‘Things seem to have settled down here.’

  ‘Nobody’s been sick in the last twenty minutes.’ Anne nodded. She lowered her voice. ‘I think Jess might need danger money when she comes in to clean the loos tonight, though.’

  ‘Can’t say I’m looking forward to cleaning up my bus either.’ The driver drained his mug. ‘All part of the job, I guess, so I’d better get on with it. Thanks for your help, Doc.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I don’t think anybody will be wanting to go bungy-jumping or jet-boating tomorrow. They all need a good rest and an intake of clear fluids. Tell the tour guide to call a doctor if she’s worried about anyone later. The hotel management will be able to help.’

  Walking down the corridor again, Hugo could see the young honeymooners shivering as they climbed back onto their bus. Night had fallen with winter’s dramatic suddenness and, judging by the spectacular red glow silhouetting the top of the craggy mountain range, it was going to be an icy one. Winter Festival participants would be happy with the fine day that tomorrow would undoubtedly bring. Apart from Erin, of course, who would no longer be participating in any freestyle snowboarding competition.

  No summons had come from Maternity and Hugo was not surprised to find that Joan had managed a potentially difficult birth without his assistance. He arrived at the delivery suite again to find an extended and happy family crowding the room.

  ‘It’s a girl,’ Ben informed him solemnly. ‘I got to cut the cord.’

  ‘Congratulations—she’s gorgeous.’ Hugo’s admiring gaze gave no indication that he was assessing the new baby’s condition. ‘Have you chosen a name?’

  ‘Mannie!’ Henry shouted.

  ‘Melanie,’ Nicola corrected with a tired smile. ‘Do you want to give your sister a kiss, Harry?’

  ‘No.’ Henry wriggled in his grandmother’s arms. ‘Mannie’s dirty.’

  ‘She just hasn’t had her bath yet.’ Joan caught Hugo’s eye. ‘Apgar score at one minute was nine and it was ten at both five and ten minutes.’

  Hugo smiled at Melanie’s proud parents. ‘Sounds like she’s fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll check her properly when you’ve had some more time for a cuddle.’

  ‘Nicky might need a couple of stitches but it’s only a small tear.’

  ‘Placenta intact?’

  ‘Appears to be. It’s over there if you want to check.’ Joan nodded towards a covered basin on the trolley. Hugo reached for a pair of gloves as Henry began drumming his small heels against his grandmother’s legs.

  ‘Wanna get down.’

  If Hugo had been a little quicker he might have rescued the basin before Henry tripped and fell against the trolley, which tipped over with a resounding crash. The small boy howled with fright, his new sister took up the cry and the rest of the family looked alarmed. Joan’s smile was tight. She picked up the toddler and deposited him firmly onto the chair beside the bed.

  ‘Sit on this chair, Henry. And don’t move!’ She leaned down. ‘If you’re a good boy and stop crying right now, I’ll see if I can find you an ice block.’

  Henry hiccuped as the sobs subsided. Hugo scooped up the mess on the floor, silently applauding Joan’s ability to deal with small children. It was disturbing to find he was now looking forward to leaving work so eagerly but there was just so much a man could take in one day. Grandma took Henry home, Hugo stitched up Nicola’s tear and Joan took the baby to the nursery to clean her up. Hugo joined her and pronounced the baby fit and healthy after a thorough paediatric check. He watched as Joan expertly applied a tiny disposable nappy and then swaddled the tiny girl in a soft cotton blanket.

  ‘You make that look so easy.’

  ‘It is easy.’ Joan tucked the baby into the crook of her elbow and smiled at the infant. ‘Isn’t she gorgeous?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Hugo couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason for his sudden unease. Maybe it was because it was taking so long for him to escape.

  ‘Do you know, I’ve delivered more than a hundred babies since I came here?’

  ‘Really? I guess you would have. You’ve been here nearly three years and we get about ninety births per annum.’ He smiled admiringly. ‘You’re doing your fair share, that’s for sure. Are you still enjoying your job?’

  ‘Oh, I love it.’ Joan’s smile was rather wistful, however.

  ‘But?’

  Joan hesitated. The glance she gave Hugo seemed almost shy. ‘I guess sometimes I wonder how many more of these bundles of joy I’ll deliver for other women before I get one of my own.’

  Hugo’s unease deepened perceptibly. ‘You’re only thirty, Joan. There’s plenty of time…isn’t there?’

  ‘Of course.’ Joan had hesitated just long enough to let Hugh know that, as someone who cared, it was his duty to investigate this matter further. His sigh of relief as his pager sounded was fortunately not audible.

  ‘I’d better get that.’ The atmosphere became safely professional again. ‘I’ll catch you later when I check on Nicola again. Maybe we’ll have time for a coffee before you go home.’

  ‘You’d better get your skates on, then.’ Joan glanced up at the wall clock. ‘I’ve got my oil-painting class at eight o’clock and I can’t miss that again.’

  Hugo didn’t really need to spend twenty minutes in the long-stay geriatric ward, making sure that Nancy was as comfortable as possible and that the night nursing staff would continue her close monitoring. Neither did he need to do such a thorough check on the four general medical patients they had at present. The trip to A and E to send Erin home with some pain relief and instructions on caring for her arm was not entirely necessary either, but each task he set himself seemed perfectly prudent. It certainly hadn’t been his intention to take so long getting back to Maternity.

  ‘Has Joan gone home, then?’ he asked the night nurse.

  ‘Twenty minutes ago. Did you want her for something?’

  ‘No.’ Hugo was disconcerted to find a hint of relief rather than disappointment lurking. He must be more tired than he’d thought. ‘How’s Nicola?’

  ‘Sound asleep—just like her daughter. Do you want to see them?’

  ‘I won’t disturb them. It’s high time I went home myself.’

  The road curved around the edges of Lake Wakatipu and Hugo found himself nurturing his first real hope of winding down from a long and tiring day. The level of stress he was trying to escape was unusually high. He loved his job and his lifestyle and it was a rare occurrence to have a day as hectic as today’s had been. The busload of poisoned honeymooners had tipped the balance a little too close to chaos for comfort but the diverse range of illnesses and injuries that tourists to the area brought was part of what kept his life as a rural doctor so interesting.

  And the tourists were flocking to Central Otago, and Queenstown in particular, in increasing numbers every year. More than once the alpine resort had received accolades of being the friendliest foreign city and it was the only New Zealand destination to rank amongst the world’s top twenty. A place of enormous scenic beauty, with a rich gold-mining history and award-winning vineyards, Queenstown had also earned a reputation as the adventure capital of the world. With a baseline population of fewer than twenty thousand people, peak summer and winter tourist seasons could take numbers to over forty thousand. That dramatically increased the workload of the available GPs and the local hospital where Hugo worked for most of his time as its on-call physician and medical administrator.

  Two startled rabbits ran from the beam of the headlamps as Hugo turned to swing his Jeep into the covered space the old woolshed provided for his vehicle. Three old farm dogs competed for his attention the moment he stepped out, and Hugo bent to fondle three pairs of ears before making his way to the long, low house sitting only metres away from the lake-side shingle beach. Having reached the veranda, he paused for a moment despite the bone-chilling temperature to take in the shi
mmer of moonlight gilding the glassy, black surface of the lake. It was bright enough to make the lights of Queenstown on the far shore of little note.

  The happy panting of the dogs and the gentle rub of shingle from tiny waves at the lake’s edge were the only sounds to break a deep and peaceful silence. Then a muted whine from one of the dogs reminded Hugo that he was very late producing their dinner. He moved inside, checked his phone for messages, opened the logburner to add wood and crank up the air flow and then filled the three bowls in the laundry with dog nuts. Reaching into the fridge to retrieve the remains of last night’s casserole for himself, Hugo spotted the half-finished bottle of white wine. One glass wouldn’t hurt, even if he was on call. The only message on his phone was from his mother and Hugo had an uneasy feeling that talking to Gwen Patterson might not be the best way to try and unwind.

  In fact, it might be better if he put off returning the call until tomorrow. Leaving the bottle where it was, Hugo put the casserole in the microwave and hit the reheat button. The old leather armchair near the fire looked extremely inviting and Hugo took his plate in that direction a few minutes later. The phone was within reach, recent, unread copies of his favourite medical journals were on the coffee-table beside the chair and his dogs were lying contentedly in the circle of warmth. Hugo felt his stress levels declining rapidly. He was, once again, a very happy man.

  At least, he was until the insistent call of the telephone jerked him from a very pleasant post-prandial doze.

  ‘Darling, you’re finally home! I rang earlier.’

  ‘I was just thinking about you,’ Hugo said in surprise. The half-dream had been a less pleasant aspect of the doze. He had been almost convinced that his mother was about to arrive on his doorstep for another extended visit—intent on finding the woman who would bear her grandchildren. As much as Hugo loved his mother, anything more than a three-day visit was a daunting prospect. ‘I’ve been incredibly busy today,’ he added hurriedly. ‘In fact, life is generally a bit hectic at the moment.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Hugo. I’m not planning a surprise visit. Queenstown’s far too cold for me in winter.’

  ‘It’s freezing,’ Hugo agreed. ‘But the mountains are looking glorious with all the snow.’ He relaxed a little. ‘How are you, Mum?’

  ‘Oh, I’m fine.’ The fact that Gwen had something more important on her mind than the list of minor, age-related physical ailments she loved to discuss with her son, the doctor, was a warning. That she had rung twice in the space of two hours made the matter of some urgency.

  ‘Is everything OK at home?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Everything’s fine. Apart from the fridge. It’s making a very funny noise. Sort of a clunk and then a dribbling sound. It always seems to happen in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Are you not sleeping well?’ Talking about fridges reminded Hugo of that bottle of wine. He pushed himself slowly to his feet.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Gwen repeated impatiently. ‘I didn’t ring up to talk about me, dear.’

  ‘Who did you ring up to talk about?’

  ‘Maggie Johnston.’

  Hugo sat down again abruptly. And silently.

  ‘Are you still there, Hugo?’

  ‘Of course. Did you say Maggie Johnston?’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten who she is?’

  ‘No.’ Hugo’s tone was cautious. ‘I haven’t forgotten.’

  The silence spoke volumes. A single instant that managed to cover so many years. A wealth of memories, both happy and sad. Flashes of grief. Of laughter. Of a lifetime left well behind now.

  ‘I keep in touch with her mother, you know. Eleanor and I always exchange Christmas cards. She rang me up yesterday. Or was it Monday? Anyway, she wanted to talk about Maggie.’

  ‘Why? Is she in some kind of trouble?’

  ‘Oh, no! Nothing like that. She’s coming to Queenstown. On Friday. I told Eleanor she could stay with you, dear.’

  ‘What?’ Hugo stood up again and this time he kept moving. Towards the fridge. ‘What did you tell her something like that for?’

  ‘They’re old friends, Hugo. Almost family. You know how close we all were once.’

  ‘That was a very long time ago,’ Hugo reminded his mother. He shook his head. ‘She’s coming this Friday? What for? Does she ski?’

  ‘I didn’t ask Eleanor about skiing. Does it matter?’

  ‘No.’ Hugo gritted his teeth as he opened the fridge. ‘I just wondered why she was coming.’

  ‘Oh. She’s got a new job.’

  Hugo extracted the bottle of wine. ‘What’s she doing these days?’ He reached for a glass from the cupboard as a horrible thought struck. ‘Didn’t I hear years ago that she had gone nursing?’ They were trying to recruit nursing staff at his hospital. The prospect of having to work with Maggie Johnston was alarming to say the least.

  ‘Yes, you’re right.’ Gwen sounded surprised. ‘I’d forgotten that. But she’s not nursing now…I don’t think.’

  Hugo pulled the half-inserted cork from the bottle with his teeth and poured what he hoped would be a reviving drink. There was no point trying to jog his mother’s memory. She would be happy to agree with whatever he suggested and prepared to conclude that whatever it was was probably correct.

  ‘Eleanor said something about driving. Yes, I’m sure that was it. Maybe she’s driving a truck.’

  ‘It wouldn’t surprise me. Probably something articulated and weighing in at about twenty tons.’

  ‘That’s a bit heavy for a girl, isn’t it?’

  ‘Maggie’s not a girl, Mum. She’s a grown woman.’ Hugo’s mental calculation was swift. He was thirty-six. His sister Felicity and Maggie had both been six years younger. ‘She’s thirty years old, for heaven’s sake,’ he grumbled. ‘She doesn’t need someone looking after her. I’m sure she’s perfectly capable of finding her own accommodation. She’s probably quite happy to pitch a tent on the side of the road if she has to.’ Hugo breathed a sigh of relief. ‘In fact, those large trucks usually have a sleeping compartment behind the driver’s cab. I’m sure I could find her a place to park it.’

  ‘Oh, no! That wouldn’t do at all, dear. I don’t think she owns a truck. She just drives…something. Eleanor said she’s been trying very hard to find a house to rent but they’re as scarce as hen’s teeth and ridiculously expensive.’

  There was no hint of relief in Hugo’s sigh this time. Queenstown was notorious for a lack of rental accommodation during peak tourist periods and for outrageous prices at most times. He could well remember his own delight in purchasing a property of his own. His own home. Where he lived, quite happily, by himself.

  ‘There’s always motels. I’m sure I could find an available room.’

  ‘That’s what Eleanor suggested.’

  Good for Eleanor, Hugo thought. At least someone was on his side.

  ‘But I said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Nelly. Why should she pay a hundred dollars a night when Hugo has a spare room and he’s living there all by himself. Lonely.”’

  ‘I’m not lonely, Mum. I keep telling you how happy I am.’

  ‘You’re still living by yourself, dear. It’s not natural—not at your age. You should be settled down with a nice little family by now. Do you know I’m the only person in my bridge club who doesn’t have any grandchildren?’

  ‘You have mentioned it once or twice.’

  ‘Some of them have ten!’

  ‘I’m working on it, Mum.’

  ‘I’m seventy, Hugo. And last time I checked I wasn’t getting any younger.’

  The reference to a biological clock struck a disturbing note that distracted Hugo momentarily. Where had he heard something like that recently? ‘You don’t look anything like seventy,’ he said. Maybe some flattery would help him change the subject. ‘Are you keeping up with your yoga classes?’

  ‘Of course. Don’t try and change the subject, Hugo.’

  ‘As if I would.’ Could, Hugo amended silently wi
th a wry grin.

  ‘How long is it that you and that girl have been seeing each other? You know who I mean. Jenny. No, Jane.’

  ‘Joan,’ Hugo supplied. He took a long swallow of his wine. That was it. It had been Joan’s biological clock he’d heard ticking today. ‘And we’ve been friends for about a year now.’

  ‘Are you going to marry her?’

  ‘Marriage isn’t something to rush into, Mum.’

  ‘I rushed into it with your father. We had sixteen very happy years together. Your dad had two beautiful children by the time he was your age.’

  The short silence was weighted by the memory of his father’s premature death when Hugo had been only fourteen. At least Gary Patterson hadn’t had to live through the tragic loss of his teenage daughter. A daughter who would probably have obliged by producing at least a few grandchildren by now.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Hugo said placatingly.

  ‘You would have married her by now if she was the right woman,’ Gwen suggested brightly. ‘Maybe you should keep looking for a bit.’

  ‘I don’t have time to go out hunting for women.’ Hugo was annoyed by his mother’s inadvertently perceptive observation. Striking up a friendship with Joan had been almost inevitable due to her availability as a nurse in his hospital. The relationship had become a reasonably comfortable habit until very recently. Possibly today, in fact. Joan’s comment about her age and babies had probably made him uneasy because it reminded him of his mother. And now his mother was making him uneasy by sowing a seed of doubt about the liaison that suddenly seemed familiar enough to have been around, unrecognised, for some time.

  ‘I don’t think Maggie’s married.’

  Hugo’s huff of laughter was incredulous. ‘Mum! Maggie’s a—’ He stopped short. OK, he hadn’t seen Maggie for more than ten years and she hadn’t really stepped out of ‘kid’ category then, but she was a grown woman now. He’d said as much himself and far too assertively to go back on. And he didn’t want to go back on that statement. Kids needed looking after. They needed a place to stay. ‘Maggie’s family,’ he amended hurriedly. ‘Or close enough, anyway. Like you said yourself.’