You can see he’s still eating his breakfast, Rachel thought, but she didn’t say so. The question seemed to be rhetorical. Christine had dropped a carry bag on the floor and was reaching for the coffee-pot. ‘Heaven. You make the best coffee, Hugo.’
‘Harrumph.’ Myra rose and stumped over to the sink and Rachel wondered who had made the coffee. By the expression on Myra’s face it wasn’t hard to guess. Maybe it didn’t matter, though. Christine had moved on.
‘You’re the new doctor?’ Christine sank into the chair Myra had just left, as if it was her right, and turned her attention to Rachel. ‘So you’re Rachel. I’ve heard all about you.’ She motioned to the bag. ‘There are some clothes I purchased for you from our local discount store. I hope they’re what you want, Hugo?’
They’re what Hugo wanted?
Rachel raised her brows at Hugo and he attempted a smile. He looked a bit uncomfortable.
‘I phoned Christine and told her you were in trouble.’
‘Who, me?’ Rachel tried hard to sound nonchalant. ‘I like pyjamas.’ Discount store, hey? Obviously she’d been categorised by Crimplene. She swallowed her last piece of pancake and smiled at all of them.
Discount store.
Maybe she should put that aside. There were undercurrents here that she clearly didn’t understand. Undercurrents that were maybe more important than her pride.
Toby was concentrating fiercely on his pancake and wasn’t looking at anyone. Myra was looking angry. What was going on?
It didn’t matter. This wasn’t her place and these people had nothing to do with her. In a couple of days the fires would die down and she’d be out of here.
‘The clothes are all here.’ Christine swept a manicured hand at her bag and smiled at Hugo, and Rachel thought, Unconcerned or not, I’m with Toby here. His little nose was practically in his toast.
But she knew her manners. ‘Thank you, Christine,’ she told her. ‘Have you bought them? How much do I owe you?’
‘I’ll pay,’ Hugo said, but Christine put a hand sweetly on his arm.
‘It’s fine, dear. The Mathesons, who run the discount store, know you’re stuck. They won’t charge you.’
Hugo was stuck?
Gee, she was having fun here, Rachel thought-or she didn’t think.
She rose and lifted Christine’s obnoxious bag. She hated it already, even though she hadn’t opened it. ‘I’ll pick up my bill from…who did you say? Mathesons? If I really need this,’ she told them. ‘Otherwise I’ll return it. Thank you anyway, Christine. Now, if you’ll excuse me…’
She huffed at the lot of them. Toby looked up at her and she caught the six-year-old’s eye and gave him a tiny sideways wink.
Then she sailed from the room with as much dignity as a girl in too-big pyjamas could muster.
‘They’re horrible.’
They were all gone-Toby and Hugo and Christine. Christine to take Toby to school and Hugo to do his house call. Rachel peered out into the kitchen where Myra was washing the dishes. The housekeeper turned and Rachel looked at her with despair in her eyes.
‘I can’t wear these.’
‘Sorry?’ The housekeeper wiped her hands on the dish-cloth and looked Rachel up and down. Rachel was wearing Doris’s Crimplene again.
‘Look!’
She held up a pair of black trousers. Plain. Dead plain. Voluminous with a heavy vinyl belt. She held up a neat white cotton blouse. Another identical blouse. A plain black cardigan. Black flat-soled sandals.
‘At least Doris’s Crimplene has flowers on,’ she wailed. ‘And Hugo’s pyjamas have stripes. Myra, I may be stuck here, but these are awful.’
‘Christine only wears black and white,’ Myra said dubiously, coming forward and taking the offending garments away from her. ‘Only…’
‘Only Christine’s clothes are beautifully cut and really, really stylish and these clothes are built to fit anyone! Anyone at all. Or no one. These are burial clothes, Myra.’
Myra cast her another dubious glance. ‘You don’t think maybe you’re going over the top here?’
‘No.’ Rachel’s chin jutted. ‘I may be stuck here but I refuse to look like Christine’s welfare case while I’m here.’
‘You don’t wear black, huh?’
‘No way.’ It was the one thing she had in life-her clothes. She wore happy clothes, the sort of clothes that’d make Craig smile if he…
No. She wasn’t going down that road, but she didn’t wear black. Ever.
‘You’re wearing pink,’ she told Myra, and if she sounded a bit like a sulky teenager she couldn’t help it.
But Myra was smiling. ‘Tell you what. I’ve finished the dishes,’ she told her. ‘I’m officially off duty until Toby comes home from school. We have an hour before Dr McInnes returns.’
‘So?’
Myra glanced at her watch. ‘It’s not yet nine and Eileen Sanderson doesn’t usually open until ten. But if it’s for you…’
‘Eileen Sanderson?’
‘Kim’s mum.’
‘Oh, no. I can’t-’
‘She owns Cowral Bay’s only decent dress shop and it’s great. Expensive but good.’
‘But she’ll be with Kim.’
‘She’s home. I saw Brian, her husband, swap shifts with her a couple of hours ago as I was coming here and she lives next door to the store.’
‘But she’ll be asleep.’
‘Not Eileen.’
‘I can’t-’
‘Rachel, you saved her daughter’s life,’ Myra told her. ‘You helped the firefighters last night. There’s not a soul in Cowral Bay who wouldn’t drop everything to help you right now.’ She frowned and looked again at the black, shapeless trousers. ‘Except maybe Christine.’ And she tossed her dish-cloth aside with a determined throw, grasped Rachel by the hand and towed her out to her car.
Hugo drove home an hour later, his thoughts overwhelmed with what lay ahead.
The fire was worse. The forecast was for a strong northeast wind, which would bring the fire down from the ridge. Already the town was shrouded by a pall of smoke so heavy Hugo had to put on his headlights.
There’d be heat exhaustion as well as fire-related injuries, he thought grimly. It was already scorchingly hot. If the fire grew worse… If there were emergencies…
He needed back-up.
He was set up here as a single doctor. Usually-well, sometimes-one doctor was enough. In a sleepy fishing village there was no need for a huge medical presence. Few doctors wanted to practise in such a remote area and the swell of campers during summer wasn’t enough to tempt medics wanting a high income.
Normally Hugo didn’t mind working alone-he even liked it-but his radio was telling him a quarter of the state was under threat from fire. That meant relief medical teams wouldn’t be forthcoming even in an emergency. There was only him-but now at least there was Rachel as well.
But if the road cleared just for a few hours…
She’d be out of here, he thought grimly. She had a husband and the world’s stupidest dog and a city career. She was a fine doctor-hell, she had the skills he desperately needed in a partner-but she’d be out of here.
The road was still cut, though, he thought, and as far he could see that was the only bright spot on his horizon. He had a captive worker and she’d said she’d work.
A captive worker…
He thought of Rachel as he’d last seen her. In those crazy pyjamas. His mouth twitched and his bleakness lifted a little. She was here. She had said she’d work. Now, as long as Christine had fitted her out in some sensible
