patriotic! And in February… I’ll think of something to celebrate. There’s bound to be a reason if I put my mind to it.’
The woman caught her breath. Her tears had been arrested. Nell had her fascinated, and Ethel gazed at her purple midriff in awe. ‘You might…you might have your baby. In February, I mean.’
‘So I might,’ Nell said with aplomb, appearing exceedingly pleased. ‘There you go, then. There’s no need to circle the calendar for that one. It’s a ready-made celebration.’
‘It sounds crazy.’
Nell shook her head. ‘No. It sounds logical. You need to see some light at the end of the tunnel. You can’t keep losing weight for years without breaks, and those breaks need to be planned well ahead or you’ll crack again.’
‘But Dr Sutherland says—’
‘Does Dr Sutherland disagree?’ She swung around to face him, and the look she gave him was determined. ‘Surely not? Do you, Dr Sutherland?’
He managed to rise to the occasion. Somehow. ‘Days off seem a very good idea to me,’ he said, and she grinned.
‘See? We have consensus.’ She turned back to Ethel. ‘OK, what are you planning for Christmas dinner?’
‘I hadn’t thought about it. Maybe a fillet of fish.’
‘A lone fish fillet for Christmas dinner?’ Nell sounded appalled. ‘Oh, you poor dear, no wonder you binged. You’re absolutely forgiven and then some. Isn’t she, Dr Sutherland?’
Blake could only gaze at her in astonishment. And agree. There was nowhere else to go. ‘Um…yes.’
‘You need turkey and roast potatoes and cranberry sauce and pudding,’ Nell said solidly. ‘With brandy cream. Not brandy butter. Trust me. I’m an expert on this one. You can’t get enough brandy into brandy butter. I know this fantastic recipe for brandy cream, where’s it’s so alcoholic no one ends up knowing who’s pulled which end of the cracker. I’ll write it out for you if you like.’
‘But—’
‘No buts. I’m sick of buts. You’re ordered to eat as much as you like on Christmas Day.’ Nell’s smile softened. ‘And I’ll bet that, having given yourself permission to eat as much as you like, and with no guilt attached, you won’t eat yourself sick. You’ll just enjoy your food very much indeed. Then, at the end of the day you give the remains of your pudding to an elderly aunt or the town drunk—or even a very appreciative dog. My cocker spaniel will volunteer if no one else comes forward. You drink the rest of your brandy cream as a nightcap, you wish yourself a merry goodnight—and then you go back to dieting the next day. How easy’s that? It’ll work. No sweat.’
Ethel looked wildly at Blake. ‘Will it?’
But Blake was smiling. ‘I don’t see why not,’ he told her. He took a deep breath. It took a big man to admit he was wrong but maybe… ‘Maybe the diet sheet we put you on was a bit harsh long term,’ he told her. ‘Maybe Dr McKenzie is right.’
‘Record this for posterity,’ Nell said, mock-stunned, and Ethel even managed a chuckle.
She looked at the pair of them, and she smiled. ‘You…you will give me that recipe for brandy cream?’
‘Hand over a prescription form,’ Nell ordered Blake. ‘The lady needs urgent medication. I’ll write it up for her now. And, Ethel…’
‘Yes?’
‘If you love cooking and you want to cook more than you and your family can eat, then think about offering treats to the nursing home or to the hospital. Or even me!’ She chuckled. ‘Just don’t give this prescription to the pharmacist. He’ll think Dr Sutherland’s barmy.’
‘I think you’re both barmy,’ Ethel said softly, and for the first time her face relaxed. ‘You’ve made me feel so much better.’
‘Punishing yourself is the pits,’ Nell said strongly. ‘Heck, Ethel, the outside world criticises enough—there’s no good to be gained by criticising yourself. And if you’ve lost four stone you have so much to be proud of.’
‘Thank you.’ Ethel sighed and rose ponderously to her feet. She looked Nell up and down, really seeing her for the first time. Then she cast an uncertain glance at Blake, and another at Nell. ‘Do I know you?’
‘I’m Nell McKenzie. My grandparents owned the place out on the bluff.’
‘Nell McKenzie!’ The woman seemed stunned. ‘Well, I never. You’ve changed so much. And… Did you say you were Dr Sutherland’s new associate?’
‘That’s right.’ Nell beamed at Blake, defying him to deny it.
But Ethel was off on the next track. ‘They’re amazing overalls you’re wearing.’
‘They are, aren’t they?’
‘They look as if they’re made from a quilt.’
‘Funny you should say that,’ Nell told her. ‘They are. From a king-sized quilt.’
‘You cut up a quilt to make overalls?’ Ethel’s voice took on a horror that said she was a patchworker from way back and Nell had just committed a crime somewhere up there with murder. ‘You’re joking!’
‘No.’
‘But why on earth?’
‘I needed overalls much more than I needed a king-sized quilt,’ Nell said in a tone which stated that no more questions were welcome on this score. ‘Enough of that. OK? Let’s get this prescription written and get Christmas on the road.’
Blake left her writing her brandy-cream script and made a fast phone call. Was she really who she said she was?
She said she’d come from Emily and Jonas but he didn’t want to ring his friends yet. He knew the surgical registrar at Sydney Central. It took five minutes to page Daniel, but he came through with the goods straight away.
‘Nell McKenzie? Of course I know her. She’s the best damned doctor we’ve had in Emergency for a long time and we’re going to miss her badly. There’s been pressure on her to put her baby in child care here and keep on working.’
‘Why doesn’t she?’
‘Who knows?’ Daniel hesitated. ‘But it’d be a hard job. Emergency’s relentless, and who knows how much support she has? She’s kept her private life very much to herself. She’s such a mousy little thing that—’
‘Mousy little thing!’ Blake sat back in his chair at that, and frowned. ‘We must have the wrong woman.’
‘Five four-ish high, freckles, red hair hauled back like she’s ashamed of it?’
‘There are similarities, but—’
‘Oh, she’s not mousy around patients,’ Daniel told him. ‘She’s extremely competent and decisive and very, very kind. The patients love her. But…you know…she’s
