Harry St Clair: Rogue or Doctor? (8 page)

Harry watched her disappear into the departure area and then turned away, but her accusations haunted him. Accusations he didn’t want to think about. Was he egotistical and self-absorbed? He would have said self-protective. Or was it just the thought of practising medicine that jerked him into denial?

It was as well he hadn’t had more time before her
flight left because he didn’t know what he would have been capable of to try and talk her into staying just a little longer. To try to explain.

What was she saying? What did she mean? That someone else could have been there to help him when he’d lost his own baby? Someone like him, turning his back? Like Steve and that short-term job at the Rock and his own refusal to go?

He couldn’t do it. Or could he? He’d managed with the baby but that had been a close thing. Could he go back to diagnoses and the mistakes that left him open to self-recrimination?

Then again, could he not? Life was looking pretty damn empty right at this moment.

During the drive back to Ubud, Harry noticed things he hadn’t seen for a long time. Things Bonnie had pointed out to him with excitement.

He saw the families, crammed on motorbikes, children sitting on bags of grain behind their fathers, mums balancing their two-wheeled pick-ups as if it was the most normal thing in the world to carry a table on a motor bike.

It had always been this way as the motorcycle could be afforded and the car not, and suddenly to Harry it seemed incredibly alien to see babies, cradled by their precariously squashed mothers, jammed onto scooters between husbands and other children.

The small trucks packed with workers in the back; the Indonesian signage and waving palm trees were suddenly more visible. And here he was, pretending to be a part of it all when, in fact, he was really a bystander.
An isolated one too scared to be involved in his own world where he belonged.

Harry’s world was in turmoil and Bonnie had done it. Bonnie and a little girl now safe in her mother’s arms.

Bonnie had been there when he’d been screaming inside,
This baby’s going to die too
, the scene fraught with emotion. An unwanted return to a situation he’d chosen to avoid, and now where was he? Apart from profoundly appreciative of her calm in an emergency, maybe it was the frailty of a toddler’s breathing and the fact that he and Bonnie had skills to save a life that had him thinking.

Or maybe it was just Bonnie who was attracting these medical disasters. He’d managed to avoid them for the last year. He’d known her three days and they’d had two already.

He saw his life, drifting from one leisurely Balinese day to the next, focused on the small issues, never thinking of the large ones in case it made him aware of what he’d chosen to discard in his fear of being hurt again.

Maybe he did need a dose of Bonnie McKenzie’s reality to kick him back into gear. Bonnie would certainly give him that but he couldn’t face the thought of a hospital, even the slightly slower paced one in Darwin, impersonally rushing from one patient to the next. And he wasn’t ready for the commitment of general practice.

The Royal Flying Doctor Service was always looking for staff but even in the state he was in he could see how frustrating it would be to fly everywhere wondering when next he’d get to Uluru and a certain straight-talking midwife.

That was the crunch. He needed to see if what he suspected was true. Needed to see if Bonnie was the key to a normal world. Nothing more than that because he wasn’t doing the family thing again. Wasn’t going there. But it still left a lot they could share. If she was interested.

But would she be happy to see him drop out of the central Australian sky into Uluru? He knew Steve would. If he hadn’t found a replacement yet.

The acceleration as the wheels left the ground pushed Bonnie back in her seat. She closed her eyes then opened them again to watch the land fall away beneath her. Better to face reality after all her harsh words to Harry to do the same.

She looked out. That would be Jimbaran Bay there and she could almost smell the smoke from the barbecues on the beach.

Harry St Clair. Another liar. A doctor hiding from the world in a web of lies. She couldn’t believe she’d allowed him into her heart.

And she’d done that for sure. How could it ever have seemed inevitable at the time? But she couldn’t deny, at unexpected moments, there’d been a real connection between them. But she would not give her heart to a man she couldn’t trust and he’d wiped out that possibility for ever. She’d have her heart back if it killed her.

The Harry St Clairs weren’t ready for the world and she was.

Now she had to let their time recede like the island somewhere below the aircraft wing. Bali would always be a place of memories and moments of gold and a man
who wasn’t who she’d thought, and she doubted she’d ever forget him. But she’d never go back.

Enough. It was time to do what she was good at. Getting on with life.

B
ONNIE
drove into Uluru an hour before darkness fell. All the other cars seemed to be heading out of the township in a mass exodus, off to see the sunset, like the tourists did when they hit the beach in Bali. Of course, thinking of sunset swamped her with the uncomfortable memory of a certain tall widower and that last sunset in Ubud. Had it only been two days ago?

She dragged her mind away from Indonesia and remembered her friend in Darwin telling her about the ritual of sunset at Uluru.

A motorbike pulled out in front of her and she swerved to miss the suspiciously young Aboriginal couple running late for nature’s best show. The boy waved and grinned and she saw his girlfriend was pregnant, heavily so, and that too reminded her of Bali. A precariously loaded motorbike and cheekily happy faces.

‘Slow down, buddy, or you’ll miss more than the sunset,’ she muttered, but her mind was stuck like a piece of grass stuck in a Balinese water buffalo’s hide.

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t regret immersing herself in the Harry St Clair experience but that hadn’t happened. She’d been in way over her head and spent the flight back trying to place at what moment good sense
had escaped her. Hadn’t she learned her lesson? The men she seemed attracted to were not to be trusted. She must have a homing device that attracted compulsive liars.

On the positive side, she hadn’t once felt that inertia and sadness she’d felt since Jeremy’s desertion and deceit. She was too angry.

Even though she’d found another man to let her down, somewhere in the mix, maybe a little to do with the Balinese beliefs, she did feel alive. Angry, but alive.

Harry’s main deceit was to himself and until he addressed that he’d never be whole. She couldn’t help him and she needed to concentrate on helping herself.

Her car eased slowly along the curved road past the hotel and she slowed as her eye was drawn to the uninterrupted views across the red sand hills to the great monolith in the distance.

Like a sleeping dinosaur, but millions of years older, Uluru showed its age in wrinkles of stone that caught and held the last of the sun’s rays in textured lines of light and dark orange, and she could feel the rise of goose flesh in an unexpectedly primitive response to nature’s spiritual beauty.

She hadn’t expected that.

It was as if she suddenly began to feel the earth beneath her feet again, to be able to enjoy the beauty of her first sunset and each new place in a way she’d been too stressed and rushed to do in the last year while she’d dealt with Gran’s slow death.

She flicked her mind away from the pull of the past and soaked in the new territory that would be hers to watch over.

Bonnie picked up her speed a little as she drove past
a famous five-star resort with huge white sunshades soaring above the grand marble entry. The sort of place the Harrys of this world would stay.

Then she passed bungalows and an open-plan shopping centre and finally reached the neat and tidy medical centre nestled in its own block beside a small ambulance and police station, all the buildings lined up like a child’s play village.

A lot of thought had gone into the planning of the township, the centre at the centre, she thought musingly as she pulled into the parking area out front.

Bonnie turned the car off and rolled her shoulders back into her seat. It had been a slow drive on the back way from Alice Springs, but she’d enjoyed the scenery. Taken her time, admired the meteor crater at Gosses Bluff, seen Kings Canyon and gazed in amazement at flat-topped Mount Conner in the distance.

She’d had a close shave with a couple of big kangaroos as the long day had shifted into late afternoon, and it was good to get her battered Jeep here safely.

When she pushed open the door to the office the blast of cold airconditioning washed over her face like a cool sponge and she couldn’t help a further lift in her spirits.

New jobs were always a challenge but today it was a stimulation she was keen to relish. Especially today. Three months out here at the centre of Australia promised to be an intriguing addition to her portfolio and the perfect antidote to holiday disillusionment.

‘Can I help you?’ The small, impeccably made-up woman at the desk looked a little incongruous compared to the patients ranged around the room, mostly ebonyskinned
Aboriginal men and women with a scattering of red-faced tourists.

The receptionist had a lacy blouse that showcased her trim arms and light tan, shirts like Bonnie had seen everywhere in Bali two days ago, like she herself had been wearing when she’d said goodbye to Harry on the way to her plane.

Bonnie shook off the thought. Okay already. She’d moved on. ‘I’m Bonnie McKenzie, the new nurse practitioner. I start tomorrow.’

‘Welcome. I’m Vicki.’ She gestured to her badge. ‘Receptionist.’ Then she indicated a small doorway into a passage. ‘My husband, Steve, is the practice manager here.’

She stood up. ‘We’re pleased to have you. Thanks for coming a couple of days early. Steve’s still trying for a temporary doctor for the month we can’t fill, and I’m starting to wonder if we’ll ever get a permanent one.’

Vicki shrugged and then rolled her eyes. ‘And the nurse you work with had to leave early because of an illness in her family. She’ll be back next week, maybe.’

Vicki shrugged ruefully. ‘Come through and I’ll find Steve.’

Bonnie kept her face serene but her heart dipped a little. It didn’t look like she’d be getting much of an orientation if the medical staff were all away. Still, at least the ambos were next door and the practice manager would have first-aid training. Think
challenge
, she told herself, and fixed her enthusiastic smile in place with a new determination.

‘Steve. The new sister is here.’ Vicki gestured to an athletic-looking man, probably a couple of years older
than Harry, who had the kindest eyes Bonnie had seen for a long time. Suddenly she felt better.

Bonnie nodded, and she suddenly remembered that people in the Outback preferred to nod, unlike their city counterparts, who were used to brushing up against people in crowded streets. ‘Pleased to meet you, Steve.’

‘And you too, Bonnie.’ He looked fondly at his wife. ‘Has Vicki told you we’re it at the moment?’

‘So she said. As long as I can find everything, I’m sure I can help. There’s always the option of shipping people out.’

‘Spoken like a trouper.’ He gestured for her to precede him further along the narrow hallway. ‘I’ll show you around.’

The building was small but efficient, two consultation rooms, a long nurse’s desk in front of four beds with curtains, and a sterilising and stock room. The computers were state-of-the-art and the practice guidelines were on prominent display. It was starting to feel familiar already.

Bonnie had done postings at Kununurra and Broome in Western Australia, as well as two small Aboriginal community postings, and her last four months in Darwin had been mostly maternity.

‘So how many ambulance officers next door?’

Steve and Vicki exchanged smiles. ‘That would be zero. There’s just you driving until the nurse comes back. And maybe our doc if we get one. If you need to be in the back for transport, then Steve and I can both drive out to meet you.’

Oh, goody, Bonnie thought ruefully. She could just
see herself haring off into the night in an ambulance to a car accident with the sirens blaring—out into the desert by herself. Now she wanted to ring her friends to come and play with her here.

‘But hopefully you’ll have backup, though we try only to work our doctors during office hours. It’s so hard to get them here, we have to nurture them.’

Poor baby doctors. Bonnie fought to keep her eyebrows from scraping her hairline. She wasn’t sure she succeeded. So nurses were more expendable. Mmm.

‘So who are the people in the waiting room seeing?’

Vicki answered. ‘Us. They’re here for blood tests—people on heparin, insulin, stuff like that. Steve and I both take blood and we can do quick tests and send samples to be flown out on the afternoon plane for more complex results.’

‘So these are all routine tests for regulars who have regimes printed out for them?’

‘That’s right. And the results are sent to the flying doctor, who changes any medications they need.’

That sounded efficient, and not something they needed her for. Maybe she would get to find her bed and settle in before she started tomorrow. ‘So, where do I stay?’

‘The staff from the hotels, the clinics and even the tourist companies like pilots and guides all stay in the staff village. If you keep on the road you came in on, the village is down the third road on the left. You’re in the Desert Pea Villas, room two, and the doctor is next door. The other nurse, Cleo, is upstairs, and Steve and I are along the corridor a little in five.’

It all sounded pretty simple. And a little too close for someone who liked their privacy and space, but she’d cope.

It rained torrentially in the night. Not a common occurrence at Uluru, and the hollows in the rock filled with water from myriad waterfalls off the enormous face. The waterfalls made small puddles and not so tiny pools in undulations where the hollows occurred.

Bonnie woke before dawn and the first thing she saw, the gecko on the ceiling above her head, reminded her of Bali.

Great! She threw back the covers and sat up, forced herself to feel her feet on the cool floor and grounded herself in the present—away from the memories of dinner on the beach at Jimbaran and rides through the rice paddies with a smiling Harry.

A plan had formed last night when she hadn’t been able to sleep to walk one of the base sections of Uluru before sunrise. Her phone would keep her in contact, and that would clear her head for the day. The plan sounded even better now. She pulled on her clothes.

The drive to Uluru parking area beside the rock was accompanied by a gradual lightening of the sky to grey and finally to a faint glow of orange that promised a spectacular sunrise on the other side. Not that she’d see that with this great hulking monolith between her and the sunrise when she parked her vehicle, but this morning she wanted to get closer and actually touch the face. She’d dreamt of it through the night and the thought promised an inner calm she looked forward to.

As she crossed the car park she gazed in awe at the
steepness of the actual climb to the top of the rock, steel posts and chains anchored to the almost vertical places on the accent face reached up to the pinkening sky above. Bonnie shook her head. No wonder some climbers had come to grief. It looked daunting and lonely, just her and none of the tourists still on the other side, awaiting the sun.

But it was awe-inspiringly beautiful. Wow. Her feet crunched in the sandy gravel as she crossed the deserted forecourt and followed the path to the base. It was cool beneath this giant shadow.

She kept left and finally the path snaked beside sheer cliffs and she could touch it. Lay her hand over the rough granules of time beneath her fingers and rest it there against the Rock’s cool heartbeat. She had a sudden thought of Harry and whether he’d seen this. Felt this. What it would be like to share this with him.

The eerie sensation made her wonder whether the sight and feel and vibration of past eons would heal him too as she could feel the last of the walls inside her crumble and break into small particles of debris within her. Then she made him disappear like sand through her fingers because he threatened her new-found peace. She wandered alongside the sleeping beast for the next fifteen minutes before she turned back towards her car.

Shooting in and out amongst the scooped-out rock waterholes were pretty finches with scarlet upper feathers that were most noticeable when they were in flight. Firetails. She only recognised them because there was a shiny nature print above her bed with a close-up of the very same birds.

She wished she had someone—
like Harry, maybe
,
a dissident voice inside suggested—to share her new knowledge with. No—of course not. But it would be fun to recognise more than one of the species of bird around here and she promised herself she’d buy a book on local fauna. Who needed company for that?

Suddenly she wanted the distraction of work and hastened her footsteps towards her car.

By the time she’d driven back, showered and had breakfast it would be nearly time for work. It had been an eventful morning already and no doubt the day held more interest yet.

It turned out well. Her morning left her with barely time to think let alone be distracted by memories. Patients with heat stroke, and knee scrapes that needed washing and cleaning, a fractured wrist and an eye full of sand, and Bonnie’s last patient for the morning, a pale lady, Iris Wilson, who’d apparently already fainted in the waiting room.

Iris wasn’t happy with the conditions of the Outback.

‘I’m not used to this heat. And I’m especially not used to the flies.’ She shuddered delicately and looked ready to faint again. ‘I’m terribly afraid I’ve swallowed one.’

Bonnie helped her to sit but before she could enquire, Iris rushed on. ‘One of the dirty insects flew straight into my mouth and before I knew it, it was gone. All the way down. I feel so sick and weak. I can just imagine the disease that’s starting in my poor stomach right now.’

‘The flies are annoying,’ Bonnie agreed, ‘but I’m sure they have their place.’

‘Not in my stomach,’ Iris said crossly.

‘No, of course not.’ Bonnie battened down the urge to laugh with steely determination. ‘Flies clean up refuse and even provide food for many other animals. And your stomach acid will make short work of any germs that went down with your fly if you did swallow it.’

She brought over the blood-pressure machine. ‘But you look pale and I’d like to check your blood pressure. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you fainted?’

‘Hmph.’ Still decidedly unimpressed, Iris shook her head. ‘I don’t want to see a nurse. I want to see a doctor.’

‘That’s harder. But certainly you can.’ Bonnie smiled gently. ‘But you’ll have to go to Alice Springs for that. They have a very modern hospital there.’