‘I will. Show her the bracelet, Mum.’
Prita held up her arm to show off the charm bracelet Nat and Barb had helped Carter buy for her. It had a horse, a cat, a book, a heart and a bag on it that looked like her doctor’s bag.
‘That’s gorgeous,’ Sally said. ‘Your mum’s a lucky girl.’
Carter grinned ear to ear.
Prita gestured at the fish and chips. ‘Thanks. I owe you one.’
‘You owe me nothing. This shire needs you. You’re the best doctor we’ve ever had.’
Despite knowing that wasn’t a sentiment held by certain loud people in the area, Prita was simply glad some people felt that way. ‘You have a great night.’ She waved and hopped back in the car and then headed back down the other end of Wilson’s Bend to their home.
Carter made it through one movie—only just—his head falling onto her shoulder as the credits rolled, eyes closing, falling asleep so fast in that way kids could. Prita turned the TV off and picked him up. He was still so small and slight, despite the good food and exercise he got now, and carried him to bed.
It wasn’t until he was tucked in, his night light turned on and she was getting ready for bed that she remembered the mess of the bird that was on the reception desk. She’d run out of the office straight after Flynn and Aaron had left to go pick up Carter and hadn’t given it a thought.
‘Damn it!’ Tomorrow was Saturday, which meant that the clinic didn’t start until 10am, so she had time to get downstairs and clean it up before Cherry got in and saw it. But then, it would be one hundred times harder to clean up—all that blood and muck would have stuck to the desk by then. She really had to do it now. ‘Happy Birthday to me.’
Tiredness sank into her bones as she headed back downstairs to the private, family area that took up the right-hand side of the lower floor of the two-storey Federation style house, through the kitchen and into the laundry where she put some water in a bucket and got some bags and cleaning cloths. Then she walked through the living room, unlocked the door into the main hallway that split the lower section in half and had doors leading into the reception-patient waiting area, the doctor’s office, treatment room, toilet and storage room. There was another room across the other side of the hall that you could enter from the hallway too. It was technically part of the family side of the house but she wasn’t using for anything other than storing boxes she hadn’t gone through yet and had plans to use it as another room for a doctor other than her if the practice ever grew bigger. It was quite large so could be divided into two consulting rooms.
She could dream.
The staircase up to the tower room was on that side as well. She’d fallen in love with this house because of the tower, but she still didn’t know what to do with it. Maybe when Carter got older, it could be an extra space for him to call his own. She smiled at the idea of him as a young man, setting up his own man cave.
Her smile died as she opened the door to the waiting room, a horrible smell greeting her. The night was warm and she never bothered running the air conditioning in this side of the house overnight, so the dead bird had quickly gone to that place that made your nose hairs curl. She’d seen her share of dead bodies in her years of working in war torn and disaster areas overseas, but she’d never got used to the sweet smell of rotting flesh. Wishing she’d put some Vicks up her nose to help cut out the smell, she donned the gloves and got to work. The blood and guts had already started to dry and stick to the desk, so she was extra glad she hadn’t left it until the morning. She was a little surprised the mess was so centralised—normally when Machiavelli left his little presents, he made more of a mess bringing them in, but thank goodness he’d been so tidy this time.
She made quick work of cleaning it up, disinfecting the area thoroughly before heading outside to get rid of the garbage bag and messy water.
The night was still, the air holding heat from the day, but thankfully not too humid. She took a deep breath, enjoying the scents of eucalypt and wattle with a slight hint of something else she’d not put her finger on the entire year and a half she’d been living here. Whatever it was, it always rejuvenated her, and despite the tired-ache in her bones, she stood there for a moment, just enjoying the beautiful night.
Something rustled in the bush to her left, startling her until she realised it was probably Machiavelli, slinking around, waiting to see how his gift had been received. She’d have to buy him a collar with a bell on it to try to warn the birds so he couldn’t catch them. Too many native creatures got killed by cats, and despite that this was the first time Machiavelli had left anything other than a mouse or rat for her, she didn’t want him to be part of that problem. She’d have to remember to ask the local vet how to dissuade him from doing it again. She didn’t want to dissuade him from catching rats and mice, but she didn’t want him killing the birds. She should probably start by locking him in at night.
‘Hey, Maccy. Come on, puss. You’re not in trouble. You can come in now.’
Nothing. No strange meeping-miaow, or slinky shadow running towards her to wind around her legs and seek attention as usually happened when she walked outside and he was there. Maybe it was a possum.
She
