‘What?’ she asked defensively, noticing Marcus’s disparaging look. It seemed strange that another man was in her house, making himself at home, touching her stuff, looking at her pictures.
‘Nothing,’ he said, and put the frame down.
‘Yes,” she insisted, ‘There’s something.’
‘Look...I’ve never met him and I’m sure he’s doing a great job but...the guy is an idiot, Maddy.’
She blinked a few times, not quite believing that he had just said what he’d said. ‘I beg your pardon? He finished top of his of the class. He won the university medal. He’s no idiot.’
Marcus shook his head instead. ‘Oh, I’m sure he’s brilliant, Maddy. But, trust me, any man that can neglect you can’t be all that smart.’
Madeline wanted to leap in and object, defend Simon, but Marcus’s compliment stopped her in her tracks. She blushed and found herself wondering for a moment how it would feel to have someone so into you they couldn’t even bear to leave your side.
He put the photo down. ‘Your parents?’ he asked, pointing at another picture. She nodded and he continued, ‘I’m sorry. George said they’re both dead.’
Madeline nodded again, touched by the genuine warmth and sympathy in his voice. He held her gaze for a moment before turning back to the photos.
‘Who’s this?’
He was holding a small silver frame displaying a picture of Abby and Madeline shortly before her sister’s death. It was Madeline’s favourite. They had spent the day out shopping together and had caught a movie. They’d been laughing about the light-hearted comedy when Simon had snapped the candid shot.
She felt the familiar sadness encroach. ‘My sister.’
Marcus frowned. George hadn’t mentioned a sister and they certainly didn’t look alike. The younger woman was smaller and blonde. ‘Does she live in Brisbane?’
‘Not any more. She’s dead,’ Madeline said quietly, rising to take the photo away from him.
Marcus felt as if she had just socked him between the eyes as he passed it back. He reached out to put his hands on her shoulders as a gesture of comfort, but she flinched and stepped out of his reach.
‘How long ago?’
‘Five years.’
Ah. Now that explained a lot, especially the headaches. Until she had resolved all her grief Marcus suspected they would continue to plague her. ‘What happened?’
‘One of your lot killed her.’
The quiet statement exploded into the silence around them. She traced her sister’s face with her index finger and Marcus shut his eyes against her anguish for a few moments and prepared himself for what he knew was going to be a really horrible story about some fly-by-night who had taken a young woman’s life through his quackery.
‘Let me guess, a snake-oil salesman from some back alley in Chinatown? A voodoo priestess?’
Marcus knew all about the seedier side of his chosen field and the unqualified people out there who pedalled cures for a fast buck.
‘Psychic surgeon.’
‘Oh, Maddy,’ he whispered. He wanted to draw her into the circle of his arms and comfort her but she was standing stiffly, her body language screaming back off. ‘They’re not holistic therapists. They’re —’
‘Quacks? Charlatans? Witches?’ Madeline felt cold inside again as the same hopeless despair she had felt that night when her deathly ill sister had landed on her doorstep. It had been too late to help her and she’d been unable to do anything as the life-force had slowly ebbed from Abby’s body.
Marcus heard her pain and better understood her vehemence that first day. ‘I’m not responsible for the entire industry, Maddy. There are unscrupulous practitioners on both sides of the fence.’
She held her sister’s photo up to him. ‘Save it.’
The girl in the picture looked about twenty and Marcus wished he had that magic wand she’d accused him of owning. Or a time machine anyway. ‘Maddy —’
She held up her hand, indicating for him to stop. ‘Look, I know I was harsh the other day and you’re right — there are incompetents everywhere. But I’m a doctor. By my very nature I’m sceptical. However, as you’ve just cured my migraine, which even I have to admit is quite an amazing feat, I have to give you kudos for that. I’m not completely shut off to different ideas, Marcus, but I need to see the science. Show me the literature, the evidence, the replicated double-blind studies.’
‘I agree, this is an area where my field of medicine is lacking. But I want to assure you that any practice I employ is evidence-based. Any time you want to see the literature, just ask.’
‘Oh, I will,’ she said, and sighed wearily, replacing the frame. ‘You can count on it.’
He laughed and saw a small smile flit across her lips. She yawned and he realised she was exhausted. He knew how much migraines sapped energy levels so he shelved any further conversation.
‘I’m going to go and leave you get back to bed,’ he said, priding himself on how calm he sounded when the thought of her in bed set his heart pumping loudly.
She nodded. ‘I think that’s best.’
‘Here,’ he said, and held out a small tin.
She looked at the offering in his hand but made no effort to take it. ‘What is it?’
He picked up her hand, opened her palm and placed the tin in it. ‘Feverfew leaves,’ he said. ‘I know you’re not a believer and I understand you have more reason than most to be suspicious of what I do, but if you take it regularly, as an infusion, it’s great for migraine prophylaxis.’
Madeline stared at the tin for a few seconds and looked up just in time to see him heading out the front door. She opened the lid and then slowly brought it up to her nose to sniff it. It didn’t smell hideous — in fact, it was quite pleasant.
It probably wouldn’t hurt to
