Leah Martyn - Wedding in Darling Downs

Declan gave a rusty chuckle, looking sideways to where the big tabby sprawled indolently on the old-fashioned cane settee. ‘Looks like he wants room service.’

Emma snorted. ‘Lazy creature. I think the mice run rings around him. He belonged to Mum.’

Declan hesitated with a response, a query in his eyes.

‘She moved back to Melbourne about a year ago,’ Emma enlightened him thinly. ‘Dad bought her an art gallery in St Kilda. It had an apartment attached so the whole set-up suited her perfectly and Dad went there as often as he could before he died. She never really felt at home here in rural Queensland. Missed the buzz of the city, her friends.’

Declan was thoughtful as he stood to his feet, processing the information. At least now he knew where the bulk of Andrew’s estate had gone and why the practice was all but running on goodwill. And why Emma’s stress levels must have been immense as a result.

Between them, they put the kitchen to rights in a few minutes. Hanging the tea towel up to dry, Emma felt an odd lightness in her spirits.

‘Emma, I wonder if you could spare a few minutes now? There are a couple of business decisions I’d like to run past you.’

His voice had a firm edge to it and Emma came back to earth with a thud. ‘Let’s go through to Dad’s– your surgery,’ she substituted shortly. ‘I’ll give the hospital a call and let them know we’ll be along a bit later than planned.’

They took their places at the big rosewood desk. ‘Fire away,’ Emma invited, locking her arms around her middle as if to protect herself.

Declan moved his position, sitting sideways in his chair, his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. ‘First up, I’ll need to see some figures from your accountant. Could you arrange that, please?’

‘I do have some current figures,’ she replied. ‘I organized that when I needed to see what state the practice was in after Dad—’ She stopped. ‘I’ll get them for you directly. Perhaps you’d like to study them over the weekend.’

‘Thanks.’ He nodded almost formally. ‘That will help a lot. Now, your office system—’

‘Yes?’

‘It seems a bit outdated. You obviously have computers installed but no one seems to be using them.’

She’d wondered when they’d get to that. ‘I encouraged Dad to get them soon after I moved back and we had the appropriate software installed. Moira did an evening course at the local high school, but at the end of it she said it was all beyond her. Dad said he felt more comfortable with his own way of doing things.’

‘I see.’

‘I tried to get things operational myself, but then, with Dad gone, it all came to a screeching halt. Any time I had to spare has had to go on face-to-face consults.’

‘The system must be got up and running,’ he insisted. ‘If it’s too onerous for Moira, then she’d be better—’

‘I won’t let you sack her, Declan,’ Emma swiftly interjected.

He raised his head and looked at her coolly. ‘Emma, don’t go second-guessing me, please. I was about to add, Moira would be better staying with what she does best. She’s obviously invaluable to the practice. She knows the patients well and that helps facilitate appointments. But what we do need is someone with expertise who can come in on a permanent basis and get our patient lists up to date and their medical history on to the computers. Can you think of anyone suitable?’

‘Not offhand,’ she said stiffly. It all made sense though and, belatedly, she realized the shortcomings he’d pointed out had probably been one of the reasons the doctors she’d interviewed had vetoed working here. ‘I’ll have a chat to Moira. Better still, I’ll call her now.’ She felt almost goaded into action, reaching for the phone on his desk. She hit Moira’s logged-in home number and, after a brief conversation, replaced the receiver in its cradle. Raising her gaze, she looked directly at Declan. ‘Moira’s coming in now. She says she may have a few ideas. I hope that’s in order?’

Declan spread his hands in compliance. He wished Emma didn’t see him as the bad guy here. But he’d promised Andrew he’d do what he could to save the practice and if along the way he had to tread on a few toes—gently, of course–then he’d do it. He hauled his legs up and swivelled them under the desk. ‘I noticed we don’t seem to have the services of a practice nurse. What’s the situation there?’

‘We used to have one, Libby Macklin. She took maternity leave, intending to come back, but found it was just too much with the demands of the baby. We didn’t get round to replacing her.’

Declan placed his hands palms down on the desk. ‘Would she like to come back, do you think?’

Emma nodded. ‘I see her quite often. The baby’s older now, of course, and Libby’s managing much better. I know she’d appreciate some work but I just haven’t been in a position to offer her any…’

‘Sound her out then,’ Declan said, refusing to acknowledge Emma’s wistful expression.

‘I’ll go and see her after we’ve been to the hospital. Now, about patient lists.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘I’m not sure how you’d like to work it, but perhaps we could do a clean swap? You’d take over Dad’s patients,’ she suggested.

‘That sounds fair. And I’m thinking we could schedule a weekly practice meeting, air anything problematic then. Suit you?’

Heck, did she even have a choice in the matter? A resigned kind of smile dusted Emma’s lips. ‘Fine.’

Declan frowned and glanced at his watch. ‘How long will Moira be?’

‘Not long. She lives only a few minutes away.’

‘Yoo-hoo, it’s me!’ As if on cue, Moira’s quick tap along the corridor accompanied her greeting.

Declan uncurled to his feet and dragged up another chair. ‘Thanks for doing this, Moira.’

‘No worries.’ She flapped a hand and leant forward confidentially. ‘I’ll get straight to the point. My granddaughter is looking for work.’

‘Jodi?’ Emma’s gaze widened in query. ‘I thought she was full-time at McGinty’s stables.’

Moira’s mouth turned down. ‘James, the youngest son, has returned home so he’s taken over much of the track work. Jodi’s there only one day a week now.’

Declan exchanged a quick guarded look with Emma. Moira was obviously a doting grandmother but they couldn’t afford to be giving jobs away on her say-so. ‘Moira, we’d need to have a chat to Jodi about what the job here entails,’ he stressed diplomatically.

‘Of course you would.’ Moira smiled. ‘That’s why I’ve brought her in with me. She’s outside in reception.’

‘Ask her to come in then,’ Declan said briefly, turning to Emma as Moira left the room. ‘What do you think?’ he asked quietly. ‘You obviously know this young woman. Are we doing the right thing here?’

‘Jodi is very bright. Providing her technical skills are up to speed, then I think she’ll do a good job. Oh—here she is now.’

Declan got to his feet again as Jodi bounded in, all youthful spirits and sparkling eyes. ‘Hi.’ She linked the two doctors with a wide white smile.

‘Jodi.’ Declan stuck out his hand in greeting. ‘Declan O’Malley. Emma you know, of course.’

‘Hello, Jodi.’ Emma beckoned the teenager to a seat. ‘Moira says you’re looking for some work.’

‘Yes, I am.’ Jodi slid her huge leather satchel from her shoulder and on to the floor beside her chair. ‘Nan’s told me a bit about what you need here. I could easily manage to give you three days a week, if that suits. I work track at McGinty’s on Fridays and I’ve just got a day’s work at the supermarket on Thursdays. So I could give you from Monday to Wednesday.’

Declan leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. ‘How old are you, Jodi?’

‘Eighteen. At present I’m taking a gap year before I start Uni.’

‘What are you studying?’ Declan asked.

‘Applied science. Eventually, I want to be associated with the equine industry, combine research and field work. Horses and their welfare are my great passion. I’ll need to do my doctorate, of course.’

‘That’s really worthwhile, Jodi,’ Emma said warmly. ‘Best of luck with your studies.’

Declan made a restive movement in his chair, his dark brows flexed in query. ‘How are your computer skills, Jodi? We’d need you to be able to collate information, get the patients’ histories logged in and kept up to date.’

‘I’m thoroughly computer literate.’ Jodi twitched a long hank of dark hair over her shoulder. ‘I work quickly and thoroughly and I’m quite aware of the confidential nature of the job here. I’ll sign a clause to that effect if you need me to.’

Emma bit hard on the inside of her cheek to stop the grin that threatened. This kid was something else. ‘We’ll probably get round to that, Jodi. But, if Dr O’Malley agrees, I think we can offer you the job. Declan?’

‘Uh—’ Declan’s eyes looked slightly glazed. He rocked forward in his chair. ‘Let’s agree on a trial period, Jodi, if that suits—say a month? And we’ll see how things are going then?’

‘Absolutely.’ Jodi shrugged slender shoulders. Bending down, she flipped open her satchel. ‘I’ll leave you my CV. And there are several character references as well.’ She placed the file on the desk. ‘If there’s anything else you need to know, I’ll be available on my mobile.’ She smiled confidently and whirled to her feet. ‘So, I’ll see you both on Monday, then.’

‘Good grief,’ Declan said faintly after Jodi had swished out of the door. ‘Do you get the feeling we’re the ones who have just been interviewed?’

Emma chuckled. ‘It’s the Gen Y thing. They’re inclined to set out terms and conditions to prospective employers. But isn’t she marvellous?’

‘Made me feel about a hundred and six,’ Declan growled. ‘Hell, was I ever that young and enthusiastic about life?’

Emma stood and pushed her chair back in. ‘Probably we both were.’

‘Mmm.’ Declan’s tone was non-committal. ‘Well, we seem to have made a dint in what needs to be done here so, if you’re ready, I’d like to see over your hospital.’

BENDEMERE’S hospital was old but beautifully kept. Declan looked around with growing interest. ‘This place has a long history, obviously,’ he remarked.

‘My grandfather actually funded the building of it,’ Emma said proudly. ‘These days, much of the accommodation is given over to nursing home beds for our seniors. Anything acute is sent straight on to Toowoomba by road ambulance. Or, in the case of serious trauma, we stabilise as best we can and chopper the patient out to Brisbane.’

‘Do you have a theatre?’ Declan began striding ahead, his interest clearly raised.

‘A small one—just here.’ She turned into an annexe and indicated the big oval window that looked into the pristine operating space. ‘Dad did basic surgical procedures. And Rachel Wallace, our nurse manager, has extensive theatre experience. She insists the maintenance is kept up. Shame it’s not used any more…’

‘It’s all here though, isn’t it?’ Declan’s gaze roamed almost hungrily, left and right and back again, as if to better acquaint himself with the layout. ‘Who did the gas when your dad operated?’

‘Oliver Shackelton. He’s retired in the district. And, even though he won’t see seventy again, I know Dad trusted his skills to the nth degree.’

‘Interesting.’ Declan pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. This was his natural environment. But he didn’t belong here any longer. Suddenly, it all came at him in a rush, a heartbeat, the past coming forward to link with the present. He felt the sudden tightening of his throat muscles. It was over. He was finished as a surgeon. He couldn’t operate any more. At least not in any way that was meaningful—from his standpoint, at least…