‘SO HOW’S it working out?’
‘What?’ Lizzie was sitting on Lillian’s bed, watching the girl eat her dinner. Or rather watching the girl trying not to eat her dinner.
This was a huge, long-running battle. There were lots of psychological things happening here. By rights Lillian should be in a purpose-designed psychiatric unit, getting the treatment she needed, but that was out of the question.
‘My daughter’s not a nutter,’ Richard Mark had growled when Lizzie had raised the issue. ‘She shouldn’t even be in hospital, much less a mental institution.’
‘It’s not a mental institution. It’s just a centre for kids with problems like Lillian. Lillian’s about forty per cent below minimum recommended body weight. She’s dangerously ill.’
‘Her mother can feed her.’
‘You know that’s why Dr McKay put her in hospital,’ Lizzie had told him. ‘Lillian’s been eating when forced, but then making herself vomit afterwards. If she loses any more weight she’ll go into kidney failure. She’ll die.’
The shock tactics had worked a little-but not enough.
‘OK. She can stay with you. But not a mental institution. No way.’
At least the hospital was quiet, Lizzie thought thankfully. Someone needed to stay with Lillian while she ate, supervising every mouthful that went in, and then she had to be watched for at least an hour afterwards or the meal came straight back up.
In the emergency medicine Lizzie was accustomed to, she’d never helped with such a patient, but the first night she’d been here all the staff had been busy and she’d volunteered. To her astonishment she’d found it incredibly rewarding. She was gaining real rapport with the troubled teenager and there was a distinct flush to the girl’s cheeks which hadn’t been there a week ago.
If she was weighed Lizzie was sure she’d have gained a little, she thought, looking at her now as she toyed with her meal, but there was no way she was letting the girl near scales. She had to agree she was looking better before she could horrify herself with the concept of gaining weight.
‘You and Dr Harry.’ The girl lifted a fork loaded with a whole pea and looked at it dubiously.
‘Three peas,’ Lizzie told her. She leaned over, took the fork from the girl’s fingers, reloaded the peas and offered it to her again. ‘Eat.’
‘But-’
‘Down.’
Lillian hesitated. And swallowed.
‘Great,’ Lizzie asked. ‘We’ll have you as cuddly as me in no time. Lillian, do you think I’m fat?’ She took the fork and reloaded it.
‘You?’
‘Me.’
Lillian looked at her, assessing. ‘Those jeans look cute,’ she said.
‘They do, don’t they?’ Lizzie wiggled herself on the bedclothes and looked across at the mirror. ‘And I know this T-shirt is tight but if I lose any more weight then my boobs shrink. There’s nothing worse than shrunk boobs.’
‘Isn’t there?’
‘No,’ Lizzie said definitely. ‘Eat.’
Lillian looked at her fork. She looked at Lizzie’s…boobs? And ate.
‘Terrific,’ Lizzie told her, and poked out her chest. ‘You’ll have nice boobs in no time.’
‘You don’t think my boobs are nice now?’ Lillian asked anxiously, and Lizzie shook her head.
‘They’re pimples, not boobs. Real women are cuddly. Like me.’
‘Does Dr McKay think you’re cuddly?’
‘I bet he does.’
‘And you’re sharing a house with him.’
‘Eat that sausage,’ Lizzie growled. ‘All up.’
‘Why? I don’t need it.’
‘You do need it. We’re in boob-growing mode here. Besides, if you want to talk about grown-up stuff you have to act like a grown-up.’
‘Like…’ Lillian nibbled an end of the sausage. ‘Like what?’
‘Well, are we talking about what a hunk Dr McKay is?’
‘Mmm.’ Lillian smiled. Girl talk. She was very definitely interested. ‘You think he’s a hunk?’
‘Bite and swallow and I’ll tell you.’
‘OK.’
‘Once more.’
‘That’s cheating.’
‘I won’t tell you.’
Bite. Swallow. ‘OK.’
‘Definitely a hunk,’ Lizzie said, trying not to notice that the plate was now half-empty. This was better than Lillian had done all week. ‘If he wasn’t in a wheelchair and engaged to Emily, I definitely wouldn’t be sharing a house with him. No way.’
‘He’s a bit wasted on Emily.’ Lillian thought about it for a bit longer. ‘Though he is quite old.’
‘Yeah, gee, he must be at least thirty-two or three. One foot in the grave, so to speak. It’s a wonder he still has the energy to get married.’
Lillian chuckled and to Lizzie’s absolute delight she raised a forkful of peas without thinking. And swallowed all by herself. ‘Well, he is quite well preserved for your generation,’ she said, and Lizzie smiled even more.
‘My generation. Thanks very much.’
Lillian refused to hear the huffiness. She saw the smile and she was intent on Dr McKay’s love life.
‘Emily’s really boring,’ she told her. ‘She’s been here for ever. When Dr McKay’s fiancee was killed…’
‘Dr McKay’s fiancee was killed?’
‘Ages ago. When I was about ten. Mum said Emily meant to have him then. She was so nice and they’ve just sort of been a pair ever since. Mum says they got engaged without Dr McKay even noticing and it was only when he was about to be married that he panicked.’
‘He panicked?’
‘That’s what everyone said. Why else would he have hit your car?’
‘You know, if I was going to commit suicide I might have chosen a better method than throwing myself under a tiny, tinpot hire car that was travelling less than ten miles an hour.’
‘I don’t think he was committing suicide.’
She should stop this conversation. She should stop it right now. But Lillian’s food was going down-the plate was well over half-demolished now. To haul her away from gossip would be criminal.
‘Besides…’
Besides nothing, she told herself. She was doing this as a doctor reacting to medical need. Nothing more.
‘Besides what?’
‘Well, suicide would be silly,’ Lillian said. ‘This town needs him. Everyone says so. If he suicided then Birrini wouldn’t have a doctor.’
‘I guess not.’ There wasn’t an answer to that. Next time she was feeling like reaching for the pills she hoped that there was someone around to remind her that she was irreplaceable. Even if it was just as a family doctor…
But maybe there was a real risk of suicide. ‘Mum says Emily and her mother have talked nothing but bridesmaids’ dresses for a year,’ Lillian told her. ‘She was having six bridesmaids and two flower girls. It was gonna be amazing.’
‘I guess it still will be amazing.’
‘If he goes through with it.’
‘Why shouldn’t he go through with it?’
