May was more and more interested. And so was old Mavis. As would half the town if they could see the expression on Harry’s face.
‘Phoebe and Lillian,’ she agreed, and watched his face change. Nurse and patient grew even more interested.
‘Why?’
‘It’s the announcement of the winner of the art prize.’
‘Amy’s art prize.’
‘We don’t know that, Dr McKay. Anyone could win.’ May pursed her lips and tried to look prim-and failed.
‘You’re telling me it’s not rigged?’
‘The most deserving child will win, and that’s all I’m saying.’
‘So Lillian’s watching Lizzie present a rigged prize.’
‘Lillian’s presenting the prize.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘Nope.’ She gazed at him ‘Aren’t you still supposed to be in a wheelchair, Dr McKay?’
‘I not only shouldn’t be in a wheelchair,’ he said grimly, ‘I shouldn’t be here. Call Jim. I want him to drive me down to the school. Lillian’s going to present the prize? We could really use this. If she’d told me… If I have time… Quick, May, ring Jim now.’
‘Yes, Doctor.’ And she smiled to herself as she made her way to the nurses’ station. Very interesting indeed…
Phoebe the basset could play a crowd better than anyone-or anything-that Lizzie had ever seen.
The great fat basset, beautifully adorned in a purple bow that was wider than her ears, waddled out to centre stage and beamed at the audience with all the charisma of a comedian who’d been treading the boards for fifty years.
The school children were seated in rows facing the stage-fifty or sixty children ranging from six to twelve. It was a really scary audience, Lizzie thought as she followed Phoebe onstage and thought again, What have I done? This was such a far cry from the emergency room she was accustomed to. She was sticking in her oar and she suddenly wasn’t the least bit sure it was going to work.
It had seemed such a good idea at the time.
Beside her was Lillian, and the tension emanating from the girl was real and dreadful. But at least she looked great, Lizzie thought. She herself had opted for clinical-her neat little suit with a stethoscope just peeping from her top pocket to emphasise the fact that she was who she said she was. But Lillian… They’d stopped by her home and chosen jeans, a clingy little top that hid her almost skeletal frame but made her look really cute, and a gorgeous tie-dyed purple scarf to tie back her blonde curls and make her look almost bohemian. She was your absolute picture of an artist starving in the garret, Lizzie thought appreciatively, and she knew, looking down at the sea of little girls looking up at her, that they’d all think Lillian looked lovely.
Would it be enough?
But it was time for her to speak. The principal had introduced them and it was Lizzie’s turn.
These kids had decorated her-Harry’s-apartment. She owed them.
Was this really medicine?
It was country medicine, she knew. This was good. If it worked.
Please…
‘I’d like to thank you all for my wonderful paintings,’ she told them, and thought, How can I be so nervous in front of kids? But she was. Her knees were shaking. ‘I love every single one of them and if I were judge they’d all win. But Phoebe’s only willing to relinquish one of her puppies to the winner.’
Phoebe’s beam grew broader at that. Honestly, you’d swear the crazy basset knew she was the star attraction.
‘So here’s Lillian,’ Lizzie managed. ‘Here’s Lillian, who everyone tells me is Birrini’s best artist and is headed for fame and fortune, to announce the lucky winner.’
Applause.
And, as if on cue, Phoebe stood up and strolled to the edge of the stage and wagged her tail. Which was just as well as it gave Lillian breathing time. She looked petrified.
‘I did it without falling over,’ Lizzie breathed as she propelled her forward. ‘So can you.’
‘You were scared?’
‘Petrified.’
‘O-OK.’ Lillian seemed to take heart from shared terror. She took a deep breath and turned to the audience. And spoke. While Lizzie had trouble breathing.
But Lillian had it under control. Describing the paintings in glowing terms. Sounding just like a professional.
‘I looked for great texture,’ she told them. ‘Wonderful composition and balance. I looked for potential. As Dr Darling has said, though, there can only be one winner.’
She’s doing it, Lizzie thought, stunned. The girl seemed to be gaining in stature while she spoke. She knew her art. In the few days Lizzie had known her it was the one area where she lit up. How dared her father belittle this? This gift.
To lose a life like this to anorexia would be such a waste.
And then she looked up from the stage and caught sight of a cluster of people at the back of the hall.
Harry.
It wasn’t just Harry. There were also Lillian’s parents and Amy’s parents. How had he collected them at such short notice? she wondered, bemused. There was also a small group of boys in their late teens in the uniform of the senior school. Big boys. Good-looking kids, toting guitars and a drum kit.
The whole group had Lizzie intrigued, but mostly Lizzie just looked at Harry.
He was propped up on crutches, leaning against the wall, surveying her with a look that was half a smile, half a question.
She couldn’t look at Harry now. She needed to focus all her attention on Lillian. This was such a gamble.
‘And the winner is…’
Lillian paused for effect. Phoebe turned to her and pointed her wet nose in the direction of the envelope. Lillian tore open the envelope.
‘The winner is Amy Dunstan.’
Silence.
Would it work?
There were a few groans as various hopefuls realised they hadn’t won. There was a collective regroup. And then as the diminutive Amy got to her feet, unbelieving, bewildered, the school community burst into clapping. If they couldn’t win, at least one of their own was going to obtain one of these wonderful puppies.
Amy still looked bewildered. She’d been shadowed by her brother’s death for so long she’d stopped believing good things could happen. A tiny child for her age, wearing glasses that were too thick for her elfin face and clothes that didn’t quite fit, she looked almost bereft.
But not for long. A smiling Miss Morrison came forward and took her hand, leading her up onto the stage. The little girl looked as if her knees were about to buckle under her, but her face was breaking into the beginnings of a tremulous smile.
‘I…I’ve won?’
Lillian looked at Lizzie to confirm Amy’s win, but Lizzie shook her head and stepped back. This was Lillian’s call.
‘You’ve won,’ Lillian said gamely. And then added, with even more confidence, ‘It’s a wonderful picture. You should be very proud.’ She held out her hand and Amy took it, and Lizzie almost crowed in delight. Two damaged kids, helping each other to heal. They had a long way to go. But maybe…
‘I’ve won a puppy?’ Amy quavered, and Lillian didn’t even look at Lizzie this time.
‘You have,’ she said. ‘If you want one.’
If she wanted one. Amy stared down at Phoebe, and Phoebe, rising majestically to the occasion for such a dopey mutt, sauntered over to Amy and stuck her nose straight up Amy’s sweater. Amy was so short and Phoebe
