world was full of doctors and lawyers and accountants it’d be a really boring place and I had a skill that most doctors would kill for and he said I had to follow my heart…’
‘He said that?’
‘He did. He said following rules rather than following your heart leads to despair and that’s where I am-though I don’t know about that-but Mum hugged me and cried and said she’s proud of me and so’s Dad. I wouldn’t have thought it, but then when we came out of the bathroom Dad was talking to the guys. I mean really talking to them. Asking about their songs and their production. Like he was really interested. And then he started being really helpful about the way they did their distribution over the internet and they talked for about half an hour until Mum noticed I was nearly asleep and that the boys should be back at school. Then she hauled Dad off to pay the bill-but it was an excuse, I reckon, ’cos she left me with the guys for about ten minutes and they told me then that Dr McKay had been real funny and he’d insisted they had to help you.’
‘Me?’
‘They said he couldn’t keep his eyes off you on the stage. And Mum said when he was talking about following his heart…well, she was sure he was talking about Emily. Or not talking about Emily, if you see what I mean.’
‘Hmm.’ Lizzie was trying hard to take this all in but it was too hard. Too…close? In times of stress-revert to medicine. ‘I don’t think I do see what you mean.’ She tried a smile. ‘It sounds really complicated. Local knowledge needed.’
‘Yeah, but you know…’
She didn’t know anything, and this had to stop. Right now! ‘What have you had to eat?’ she demanded, and Lillian grinned.
‘You’re changing the subject.’
‘You’re absolutely right I’m changing the subject. I’m a doctor, aren’t I? And Dr McKay’s love life is strictly Dr McKay’s business.’
‘If you’re sure…’
‘What have you had to eat?’
Lillian gave her a long look and then shrugged. Moving on. For now. ‘I ate a cake at the coffee-shop,’ she told her. Then, as Lizzie fixed her with a look of disbelief, she amended it. ‘OK. Half a cake. But it was a really big cake and I did try. Mum was watching me and she didn’t say a word-that’s Dr McKay telling her not to nag-but I could tell she was pleased. And then I ate half a round of sandwiches when I got back here and Dr McKay sat with me until I went to sleep so I swear it stayed down.’ She flushed a little and then looked anxious. ‘Lizzie…I mean, Dr Darling…’
‘Lizzie’s fine,’ Lizzie told her. She wasn’t staying here. She wasn’t feeling like a doctor. The treatment they were using on Lillian was unconventional so maybe formalities weren’t required. And she could see that more confidences were about to be delivered.
But Lillian had changed her mind. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘If it affects the way you’re feeling then it matters.’
Lillian hesitated.
‘Lizzie,’ she said, and Lizzie pushed away the white coat image and stethoscope and she smiled.
‘Lizzie. Definitely Lizzie.’
And somehow it worked. Lillian’s defences crumpled still more. ‘Joey…the skinny one in the band…’ she started, obviously searching for courage as she went. ‘He said after I get out of here, can he take me to the pictures? What…what do you think?’
Lizzie raised her eyebrows and tried not to smile. Tried not to shout! ‘Joey, hey? The drummer. Hmm. Maybe the question shouldn’t be, what do I think? Maybe it should be, what do you think?’
‘I think…maybe he feels sorry for me?’
‘Do you think someone like Joey would ask you to the pictures if he felt sorry for you?’
‘N-no.’
‘Then maybe he thinks you’re cute,’ Lizzie said, and stooped to give the girl a kiss on the forehead. More unprofessionalism but, hey, she was getting used to it. ‘As I do. Cute and artistic and kind to small children and ill- but recovering fast. How about that for a prognosis?’
‘I guess…it’s a good prognosis.’
‘It’s a fine prognosis,’ Lizzie told her. ‘Let’s keep working on it. Joey, hey? Well, well, well.’
‘Dr McKay, hey?’ Lillian mimicked, snuggling down under the bedclothes and smiling shyly up at her. And then past her. ‘Well, well, well.’
‘Dr McKay?’
She hadn’t heard Harry. He’d come up behind her so suddenly that when he touched her arm she nearly jumped out of her skin.
She whirled and he was sitting innocently enough in his wheelchair, his leg out before him.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she spluttered before she could collect herself, and he gave her a lopsided smile that had her even more flustered.
‘I’m tired of being on crutches. I’m practising my wheelchair skills like a good little patient.’
‘If you were a good patient you’d be in bed.’
‘No.’ He smiled across at Lillian. ‘Exercise in moderation. I’m sure that’s right. You don’t have to be in bed to be a patient. Miss Mark, what are you doing in bed at this hour of the afternoon? You’re looking far too healthy to be in bed.’
It was a lie. Lillian had been in hospital for three weeks now and the child still looked skeletal. Her kidney function was compromised, her liver function worrying. They had a long way to go. But this morning they’d seen what could be possible.
It was hard, though. She needed to be in some specially run facility where there could be supervision as needed, but also lots of things to keep the hyperactivity associated with anorexia satisfied. But, failing that, Lillian had to stay here. At home she couldn’t be supervised, she’d find laxatives or buy them, she’d purge…
She was making the first moves toward a cure, but long term there was so much to do.
Meanwhile… Lizzie looked down at Harry and she could almost see his sharp mind focusing on Lillian’s needs. Keeping the girl happy. If Lillian became bored out of her mind, there was no way they could keep her here. This wasn’t a locked psychiatric ward.
‘You’re bored,’ he said, and Lillian nodded.
‘You’re right. I shouldn’t be in bed.’
‘What do you want to do?’
‘Get out. Do some exercise.’ She looked wistfully at Harry’s wheelchair. ‘Those things look fun.’
‘They are fun,’ Harry said promptly. ‘I’m getting better and better. Want a demonstration?’
‘No,’ both girls said together, and he winced.
‘Ouch. A man has some pride…’ Then he looked more closely at Lillian’s wistful face. ‘It is fun,’ he said slowly. ‘But it’d be much more fun if I had someone to show off to. Hey. I know what. Can I offer you an excursion in one of the hospital wheelchairs?’
Lizzie blinked. Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t this.
But Harry, once fixed on an idea, was unstoppable. ‘The corridor is empty. There’s not a decrepit patient in sight. Everyone’s cosily settled for their afternoon nap except you, Lillian, and your two friendly physicians. And I’m sure our Dr Darling will turn a blind eye to some high jinks.’
‘High jinks,’ Lizzie said feebly. ‘High jinks? What is this? Gidget Does Birrini?’
She was ignored. ‘How about we do some wheelies?’ Harry was teasing, and by the sideways glance he cast at Lizzie it wasn’t just Lillian he was teasing. ‘We could really burn some rubber here if you’re willing.’
‘Do wheelchairs go that fast?’ Lillian demanded, her eyes sparkling, but Lizzie was shaking her head in disgust.
‘Dr McKay, how do you think,’ Lizzie asked carefully, ‘that you got that broken leg in the first place?’
‘You hit me,’ Harry said blandly, and she choked.
‘You got it being a total twit.’
‘I did.’ He looked crestfallen. ‘You’re right, of course. So I did. Thanks for reminding me. And speaking of reminding… Dr Darling, I think Phoebe’s pining. She needs an antenatal check. Off you go and do some doctoring.
