‘Well, let’s go get you a drink to calm you down.’
They’d taken two steps when the phone in the office rang. Prita turned to get it.
‘Let it go to message.’
‘It could be a patient.’
‘Then let me get it.’
Prita shook her head. ‘No, you go out to the party. If it’s anything urgent, I’ll call you.’
‘Okay.’
Prita ran back over to the desk before the call could be picked up by the answering machine. ‘Hello. Wilson’s Bend Health Matters. Doctor Prita Brennan speaking.’
There was silence on the other end of the phone. No, not silence. She heard breathing. Heavy breathing. As if someone was in pain?
‘Hello? Are you there? Is this an emergency?’ She grabbed a pen and paper from the desk, ready to write down an address. If someone had hurt themselves, she’d need to move quickly.
‘Bitch.’
Her hand clenched on the phone as she blinked in surprise. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Who do you think you are, taking everything that’s mine?’
She couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her spine, the little spike of adrenaline that sped up her heart, not just at the words, but the venomous spit of them. As always happened when she was met with something unexpected, whether a confrontation with a patient in the ER, or standing up against men with guns when working in Sierra Leone, the adrenaline pushed her into flight, not fight mode. ‘Listen, you misogynistic bastard, I’m not taking anything that’s yours. If it was yours, I couldn’t take it, so stop harassing me and piss off.’ She slammed down the phone and stared at it. She felt as steady as a rock, even as her heart hammered in her chest and her body vibrated with the need to do something. This was the third call in the last few days since they’d had the phone connected, and she was getting thoroughly sick of it. Doc Simpson and Bob Thompson and their pack of dinosaurs couldn’t get away with this. She needed to call the police. She reached for the phone again to report the harassment.
‘Mummy?’
She swung around at the plaintive sound. Carter stood in the doorway. Oh god, had he heard what she’d said? He was such a worrier—not surprising given what he’d been through in his young life. He didn’t look too worried, so maybe he hadn’t heard any of it. She put on a bright smile and walked over to him. She could call the police later. ‘What is it, buddy?’
‘Barb sent me to get you. She says it’s time for you to play. What are you going to play, Mummy?’
She laughed gently. ‘She didn’t mean that kind of play. She just meant it was time to come out to the party.’ She held her arm out to him. ‘Will you escort me, kind sir?’
He looked askance at her, sandy blonde fringe falling back from his high forehead, his one blue eye and one brown eye sparkling in the sun shining through the window. ‘Are you pretending to be in one of your books again, Mummy?’
‘Maybe. Do you mind?’
In answer, he grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall. ‘Let’s go.’
She halted at the top of the back verandah steps to take in the scene before her. Carter, spying his friends in the garden below, whooped and let go of her hand to jump down the stairs and race over to join them. She watched him go with a smile on her face and then let her gaze rove around the party that already seemed to be in full swing.
As always, she was astonished at how quickly and efficiently Barb and the CoalCliff mob could put together a party. Or a crew to renovate a beautiful old Federation house and turn it into not only a place for her and Carter to live, but into the base for her new practice as well. They were truly astonishing. And generous. She wasn’t quite sure why they did these things for her, but she did appreciate it.
‘What do you think?’ Barb asked, coming up beside her, two huge bowls of salad perched on her hips, the rainbow colours in her hair glinting in the late afternoon sun, her sun-browned face creased with the lines of a life that had been mostly full of laughter, love and smiles. Prita had been amazed to discover the woman was a grandmother of a thirty-year-old when she’d first moved here. But she supposed when you started your family at eighteen, and then your eldest daughter had their child at eighteen, being a young grandma was part of the gig.
‘It’s amazing. Thank you.’ She reached for one of the huge bowls. ‘Here, let me help you with one of those.’
Barb shifted away. ‘No help necessary. You go and get yourself a drink and circulate. You’re the guest of honour and need to go chat with your guests.’
‘But I should do something to help.’
‘You are helping. You’ve kept Flynn occupied this last month.’ Her gaze turned to her youngest son who was setting up chairs in the backyard. ‘This time of year is so hard for him.’
Prita frowned as her gaze went straight to Flynn as he lifted and placed chairs on the grass. Her mouth dried as she watched the muscles in his arms flex. He was so damned sexy. Even the scattering of freckles on his sun-kissed skin was sexy. Forcing her gaze back to Barb, she tried to ignore the heated prickle that pressed under her skin every time she clapped eyes on Flynn. ‘This is the time of year he lost his wife, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ Barb sighed, then smiled softly. ‘Keeping busy helps more than you can imagine, so it’s you I have to thank for helping me do that.’
Prita was about to ask her what she meant by that when Barb suddenly yelled out, ‘No, not there,’ and hurtled down the back steps, putting the bowls of salad on the tables that were set up at the
