The Doctor's Outback Baby Read online

  As if she’d run into any trouble, Clara sighed, adding her tray to the heaving table. As if she was going to have to beat off a stream of admirers with a stick.

  ‘You look fabulous, Clara!’ Shelly made a beeline for her. ‘Your dress is divine, you look just wonderful.’

  ‘So do you.’ Clara smiled. ‘Where’s Ross?’

  ‘I was about to ask you the same. He “popped” over to the clinic an hour ago. You didn’t see the Flying Doctors’ plane there when you went past by any chance?’

  Clara shook her head. ‘He’s probably just writing up the transfer letter. Bill’s case is pretty complicated.’ The frown on Shelly’s face told Clara she wasn’t appeased. ‘He’ll be here soon. Anyway, the night’s still young, the band’s booked until one—speaking of which, I’d better go and pay them.’

  ‘Well, hurry back,’ Shelly whispered loudly. ‘There’s no Ross, no Kell and no Abby. Even Timothy hasn’t made his way over. Apart from me and the kids, our table’s the emptiest one in the barn.’

  She would have hurried back—in fact, Clara would have loved to have sat down and had a glass of punch or champagne, but instead Hamo, Jim and Mitch all decided to get their duty dances out of the way early and the next twenty minutes or so were spent being twirled around the floor by various colours of checked shirts as the band sang about shearing sheep, billy tea and all the things Australians held dear after a few cans of beer. Arriving back at the table, her face flushed, giggling at one of Hamo’s more lewd jokes, her smile instantly faded as several strained faces turned to greet her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Ross said too brightly.

  ‘Where’s Abby?’

  ‘The Flying Doctors came,’ Kell replied, without looking up. ‘They needed a doctor escort.’

  ‘Why?’ Clara asked immediately. The Flying Doctors were exactly that, and Bill wasn’t that sick at the moment. She couldn’t think of one possible reason why Abby would have needed to go. ‘Who was the doctor?’

  ‘Hall Jells. He just thought it would be safer if the clinic provided an escort,’ Ross responded, without meeting her eyes, and from the pained look Shelly was flashing at her Clara decided not to pursue it, instead taking a glass of champagne from Bruce, the local pilot who was doubling as a waiter, and trying to ignore just how divine Kell looked tonight.

  ‘So this is where all the action is.’ The appearance of Timothy lifted the mood somewhat. Everyone fell on him as if he were a long-lost friend, obviously grateful for the diversion, and Clara found herself frowning. She felt as if she’d turned on her favourite soap only to realise she’d missed an important episode. Everyone was talking normally, smiling and cheerful, but something wasn’t right.

  Something was definitely going on.

  ‘I fell asleep,’ Timothy explained needlessly, and, choosing the chair next to Clara’s, he sat down and gave her the benefit of a very nice smile. ‘It was supposed to be a fifteen-minute power nap.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘But that was about four hours ago.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you made it.’ It was merely a polite comment, just as she would have given to any newcomer, but Timothy caught her eye and suddenly the massive barn seemed to shrink.

  ‘Really?’ Timothy asked, as if it really mattered.

  Taking a nervous sip of her champagne, Clara held it in her mouth for a second or two before swallowing, wishing she had used that blessed green foundation after all.

  ‘Really,’ she said finally, the admission surprising even herself.

  Clean-shaven and freshly showered, Timothy was pretty easy on the eye, but it wasn’t just his undeniable good looks that were working their charm here. There was something about his smile that told Clara it was just for her.

  ‘You look wonderful,’ Timothy said very slowly and very deliberately, and for all the world he sounded as if he really meant it. ‘Your hair looks nice, different.’ Green eyes raked over her and Clara could feel her pulse flickering in her neck as he scrutinised her slowly.

  ‘I—I had foils,’ she stammered. ‘Just a couple…’

  ‘I’ve no idea what foils are.’ Timothy grinned.

  ‘A few blonde tips.’

  Timothy nodded. ‘Looks great, although I love red hair.’

  ‘That’s because you haven’t got red hair,’ Clara countered, blushing ever deeper. And even though the conversation flowed easily, even though they were only talking about foils and hair and oversleeping, she felt as if she were caught in a rip, seemingly following the tide of a normal conversation as a throbbing undercurrent pulled her in an opposite, unfamiliar and definitely dangerous direction.

  ‘I’ll go and get another round. Clara, do you want to give me a hand?’ Kell asked, standing up. Instead of falling over her chair to help him as was usually the case, for the first time in living memory, Kell actually had to repeat himself as she laughed at something Timothy had said. ‘Clara, do you want to give me a hand with the drinks?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Clara smiled, deliberately missing the point, gesturing to her half-full glass as Kell shrugged and turned to go.

  ‘I’ll help!’ Matthew jumped up, determined to impress his big buddy Kell. ‘We can play—’

  ‘Hide and seek,’ Kell groaned, but his face broke into a smile as he took little Matthew’s hand. ‘We’ll have one more game of hide and seek and then I’ll get that beer.’

  ‘How about that dance?’ Timothy pushed, but Clara shook her head, turning briefly to check Kell really was out of earshot.

  ‘How about someone telling me what’s going on,’ Clara said sharply to her friends gathered around the table. ‘Why on earth has Abby gone to Adelaide as a doctor escort?’

  ‘Tell her, Ross,’ Shelly choked, her voice unusually angry. ‘Tell Clara the mess you’ve made of things.’

  Clara almost spilt her drink in surprise. Never in all the time she’s known Shelly and Ross had they been anything other than devoted to each other. She’d never heard so much as a cross word pass between them and now here they were practically rowing at the table in front of everyone. Something was wrong, seriously wrong, and Clara stared from one to the other with her mouth gaping open.

  ‘Come on, Ross!’ Timothy grinned eagerly and then shut up when every one turned and shushed him.

  ‘Abby’s gone,’ Ross started slowly, as Clara’s mouth dropped ever further. ‘She’s leaving tonight with the Flying Doctors. She found out Kell was going to propose and she simply couldn’t face it. She didn’t want to leave like this, but on the other hand she didn’t know how to say goodbye.’

  ‘Does Kell know?’ Clara’s voice was barely a croak. She wished she’d used the green foundation now. Her face must surely be as red as a beetroot as she struggled with the news, relief flooding her veins intermingled with a horrible surge of guilt as she glanced over to the bar where Kell stood.

  ‘No!’ It was Shelly speaking now, the bitterness in her voice clearly evident. ‘Ross is going to tell him that little gem later, once the ball’s over, though I’m sure he knows something’s up. The poor guy’s walking around with an engagement ring in his pocket and he doesn’t even know that Abby’s bolted!’ She turned her teary face to her husband. ‘Well, you can leave me out of it, Ross. I just can’t bear to see his face when you tell him what you’ve done.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ Ross said through gritted teeth. ‘You were the one who had to go and spill the beans to Abby. If you’d just stayed out of it we wouldn’t be in this mess.’

  ‘So it’s my fault now.’

  ‘It isn’t anyone’s fault,’ Ross relented, putting a hand over Shelly’s. ‘It’s just the way things have turned out. Abby didn’t want to hurt Kell when she said no. She was beside herself and she didn’t know what else to do.’

  ‘But why?’ Clara asked, utterly bemused that anyone could run out on Kell. ‘Why would she leave when he was going to propose and everything?’

  ‘She just couldn’t deal wi
th it,’ Ross said, tightlipped. ‘She belongs in the city—’

  ‘He’s coming back,’ Timothy interrupted, ‘so now might be a good time to change the subject.’

  An awful silence followed as every one struggled to come up with something, until the baleful eyes that had silenced Timothy earlier begged him for help as Kell returned with a tray of beers.

  ‘We have pints in England!’ Timothy started, and Clara groaned into her wine at his dreadful efforts at conversation, but, as it turned out, Timothy was spot on. A lengthy discussion ensued between Kell and Timothy on the merits of pints versus schooners, warm versus icy cold and the alcohol content of either, giving the collective table enough time to exhale their held breaths and at least look as if a bombshell hadn’t been dropped.

  It was a great evening.

  People often wonder what committees do, how one little ball could take so many months of preparation. But all their work, all the painstaking attention to detail paid off a hundredfold as midnight struck and the lights dimmed a further notch, the bush music slowing to love ballads matching the mellower mood of the crowd.

  ‘What’s going on, Clara?’ Kell mumbled into his beer. ‘The Flying Doctors wouldn’t have needed an escort for Bill—you know that as well as I do. I’ve been trying to get you on your own all night to find out what’s happening. Please, Clara, I need to know.’

  Blinking rapidly, trying to choose her words carefully, Clara put a tentative hand across the table, opening her mouth to speak and praying she’d say the right thing.

  ‘Time for that dance, I think.’ Never had Timothy’s timing been more appalling. Turning her angry eyes to him, she shook her head.

  ‘Not now, Timothy,’ she said, the irritation in her voice evident. Couldn’t he see this was a private conversation?

  ‘No excuses,’ Timothy responded cheerfully, pulling her reluctantly to her feet as Clara turned and gave an apologetic shrug to Kell.

  ‘Hold on a second.’ Making her way back to the table, ignoring Timothy’s obvious impatience, she met Kell’s eyes. ‘I’ll speak to you outside after this dance.’

  ‘What was that about?’ Timothy asked once they were on the dance floor.

  ‘Nothing.’ Clara shrugged, grateful the dance floor was so packed and she could bury her flaming cheeks in Timothy’s chest. She really was a useless liar.

  ‘Because it really wouldn’t be very sensible to tell Kell tonight.’

  Startled, she looked up, surprised that he knew her secret.

  ‘It would probably sound better coming from Ross.’

  Relief flooded her veins, pleased that he didn’t know her ulterior motives, but her relief was short-lived, turning instead into anger. She damned well wasn’t about to take advice from Timothy, he hadn’t even been in Tennengarrah a night yet. As if he knew what was best for Kell!

  ‘Just leave it, Timothy,’ she snapped. ‘You don’t know all that’s gone on.’

  ‘Keep your hair on.’

  Rolling her eyes, Clara prayed the music would stop. OK, he was good-looking, funny at times and, yes, she admitted reluctantly he was a great dancer, but she hadn’t heard the saying ‘keep your hair on’ since high school and she certainly wasn’t going to let this overgrown teenager thwart her one stab at happiness tonight.

  Abby had gone. Kell was devastated.

  Why shouldn’t he hear the news from someone who cared?

  ‘Looks like they’ve made up,’ Timothy commented as Ross and Shelly floated by. Shelly’s eyes closed as she rested her head on Ross’s shoulder, a dreamy smile on her face as they drifted along out of time with the music.

  ‘It’s the first time I’ve heard a cross word between them,’ Clara admitted. ‘Mind you, Shelly was pretty excited about tonight, she wants the world to be as happy in love as she is.’

  ‘That’s a nice thing to want.’

  Clara didn’t respond. Instead, she leant against Timothy, letting him lead, and perhaps for the first time that night she actually relaxed and enjoyed the fruits of the nine months of preparation that the ball had taken as she ambled along in time with the music, just enjoying the moment, enjoying the heavy throb of the bass and even revelling for a moment in the delicious spicy spell of his aftershave.

  Timothy really was a good dancer, she thought almost reluctantly as the music stopped and they stood apart.

  ‘I love this song.’ Timothy smiled as the band started up again. ‘Can I persuade you to join me for a second dance?’

  Clara hesitated. She loved this song, too, and if truth be known she’d actually enjoyed dancing with Timothy. It hadn’t been awkward like it was with some of the guys, hadn’t been the duty dance every man in Tennengarrah felt compelled to have with the trusty Clara. Timothy had actually made her feel like a woman, not some annoying little sister, but she’d promised to meet Kell.

  ‘Better not,’ Clara said, the reluctance in her voice surprising even herself. ‘But thanks, that was nice.’

  Making her way across the room, she longed to dart into the toilet, desperate to check that she looked OK, to be sure she looked her best for the most difficult conversation of her life.

  Gulping the night air into her lungs, she stared out into the darkness. The throb of music coming from the barn sounded a mile away as she stared up at the twinkling stars and begged for inspiration, her heart rate rising alarmingly as she heard heavy footsteps. Turning expectantly, forcing a smile, she stared into the darkness as he approached, not quite ready but determined not to miss her moment.

  ‘Timothy!’ The shock in her voice was evident. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Getting some fresh air.’ He shrugged. ‘The same as you.’

  Clara raked her mind. She didn’t want to be rude, didn’t want to be obvious, and she definitely didn’t want to explain to Timothy why it was so important he left right now, but really he was leaving her with very little choice.

  ‘Please, Timothy,’ she started, her eyes turning frantically to the barn, her ears straining at the sound of approaching footsteps that she knew this time were definitely Kell’s. ‘I really need you to go.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I just do,’ Clara whispered loudly. ‘I really need to be on my own right now.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  Aghast, she watched as he folded his arms and eyed her thoughtfully.

  ‘In fact, I’d say the best thing you could do right now is get yourself inside and have that other dance with me.’

  ‘Timothy, please, you don’t understand…’ she begged.

  ‘Oh, but I do,’ Timothy replied, and for the first time since she’d met him his voice was serious and there wasn’t a glimmer of humour in his green eyes. ‘You like Kell, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I like Kell,’ Clara spluttered. ‘I’ve known him for—’

  ‘I don’t mean as a friend, Clara. You like Kell and you’re hoping that when you tell him about Abby, he’s going to realise just how much he actually likes you!’

  Her shocked expression only confirmed his diagnosis.

  ‘You’re looking at a guy whose best friend was the captain of the rugby team,’ he offered by way of explanation. ‘I’ve spent more time than I care to remember watching other people’s relationships flourish from the sidelines of my beer glass.’

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ Clara insisted. Kell was practically on top of them. Any moment now he’d see them together and she needed to be alone for this.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Timothy responded, moving forward. ‘Now, I’m going to apologise in advance for what I’m about to do, and though you probably won’t realise it now, though you’re probably going to hate me for it, I’m about to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life.’

  ‘What on earth—?’

  She didn’t get to finish, didn’t get to say another word. Suddenly a hot wedge of flesh was pressing against her, pinning her up against the barn wall as she struggled furiously, her automa
tic scream hushed by the weight of his lips, her arms clamped against his chest with absolutely no room for manoeuvre.

  Yet for all the shock, for all the adrenaline pumping through her veins, fear didn’t enter into it. She knew Timothy’s infuriating intentions, knew the sight of her stockinged legs hadn’t catapulted him into a sexual frenzy. This was a duty kiss, she realised as she wrestled to get away, a duty kiss of the worst possible magnitude. And worse, far worse, despite struggling like a cat being dipped in water, despite her internal fury at her misdirected assailant, for the tiniest second, for a smidgen of time so small it was barely there, the fighting stopped, the resistance in her slipping away as other, rather more disturbing thoughts flitted into her mind.

  Irrational thoughts that really shouldn’t be given any credence…

  The tangy aftershave that had assailed her on the dance floor, stronger now at such close proximity, his heavy ragged breathing as his chest moved against hers, the feel of her breasts pushed against the cool cotton of his shirt, and the faint tang of whisky as his lips moved against hers.

  ‘Clara?’ She could hear Kell’s voice in the darkness, hear him closing in on them, and she made a last agonised struggle to escape. But Timothy was having none of it, his grip tightening on her more, if that was possible, as Kell approached.

  ‘Oh!’ She heard the surprise in Kell’s voice, the muffled cough as he backed away. ‘Sorry, guys.’

  Only when Kell had gone, only when he was sure they were alone did Timothy pull away, his arms on the wall either side of her now like a temporary cage as he met her furious, glittering eyes.

  ‘How dare you?’ she started, her voice breathless, legs trembling with fury and something else that she would have died before admitting to. A great kisser he might be but she certainly wasn’t going to let this over-inflated, pompous Englishman know that two minutes up close and personal with him had had the slightest effect in the romance stakes. She was furious.

  That was all.