it. That takes years and years and more money than anyone would want to throw at an isolated group of Pacific islands. I reckon it’s got something to do with that M’Langi tea they make and how it seems to protect some islanders from encephalitis. Did you know that research started on that decades ago?’
Oh, yes … Anahera had known about that. Not that she was about to share any details. She didn’t want to think about it, let alone tell someone else. Unbidden, a memory surfaced of sitting in a swinging chair as a tropical twilight morphed into night. Of arms—heavy but so welcome—resting on her body as she lay back against the chest of the man who was telling about his curiosity regarding the tea. She shook the memory off with a head shake that was visible but fortunately appropriate to a dismissive comment.
‘I think they’d decided that the only benefit of the tea was some sort of natural insect repellent so that mosquito bites were less likely and therefore people were less likely to contract encephalitis from them. It’s hardly going to change our lives.’
Sam sat down at the table. ‘I guess not. What we really need is for the aerial spraying to happen to control the mosquito problem. I wonder if anyone’s managed to get in touch with Ian Lockhart yet. He’s the person who should be organising it.’
Anahera shrugged. ‘Not that I know of. He seems to have fallen off the face of the earth. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear he’s in Vegas, gambling away any recent profits from the mine.’
‘If it doesn’t happen soon, we could be in for a few nasty cases this year. We don’t want another Hami, do we?’
‘Heavens, no.’ Anahera could feel her face scrunching into lines of distress. She would be in tears in no time if they started talking about the little boy they had lost to encephalitis a couple of years ago. It had been the most heart-wrenching case of her nursing career so far. Almost unbearable, because the little boy had been the same age as her own daughter.
‘Maybe we’ll find out at this cocktail party. You all set, Ana? Got a pretty dress?’
‘I’m not going.’
‘But you’re invited. We all are.’
‘Doesn’t mean I have to go. I want to spend some time with Hana. I haven’t seen her all day.’ Anahera dried the mug and put it back in the cupboard.
‘Bring her, too.’
She laughed. ‘Take a three-year-old to a cocktail party? I don’t think so … Besides, I said I might stay on till ten p.m. if Hettie decides she wants to go before taking over the night shift.’
Anahera could feel a faint flush of warmth in her cheeks as the quirk of Sam’s eyebrow made her realise that she had just pulled the rug out from beneath her excuse of wanting to spend more time with her daughter.
‘I just don’t feel like being social, okay? I had enough of that kind of thing in Brisbane. Not my scene.’
‘There’ll be interesting people to talk to who’ll only be here for a couple of days. Experts on things like dengue fever and encephalitis. I’m looking forward to hearing what the latest research is all about and any improvements to treatment, never mind what the secret announcement is.’
‘And I’ll look forward to you telling me all about it tomorrow.’ Anahera’s tone was firm. Clipped, even. She didn’t want to hear people talking about research into tropical diseases. It was too much of a reminder of conversations long past. Like the ones about the M’Langi tea. And the dreams of someone who had planned to change the world for the better. She’d bought into those dreams a hundred per cent, hadn’t she? Because she’d been going to be by his side while he made them happen. Even now, that sense of loss could tighten her throat and generate that unpleasant prickle behind her eyes.
‘There’s going to be a hangi. You love hangis.’
‘I know. Mum’s in charge of it, which is why she’s left us to sort the patients’ meals tonight.’ A quick glance at her watch and Anahera had the perfect excuse to leave. ‘I’d better go and get on with the observations and medications round so I can feed everyone before they want to go to sleep.’
Sam shook his head, clearly giving up. ‘I’ll help with the obs and do the meds. We’ve only got a few inpatients so it won’t take long. Then I’ll have a shower and get spruced up while you’re playing chef.’
The shower was exactly what he’d needed to clear the jet lag and sensation of displacement but, if anything, it only added to Luke’s amazement.
Like the rest of this luxurious bure tucked into the tropical jungle edging the beach, this bathroom could have been plucked from a five-star resort. The walls were an almost flat jigsaw of boulder-sized stones and the floor a mosaic of grey pebbles inset with white ones that made a tribal design of a large fish. The soap was faintly scented with something that smelled like the island—jasmine, maybe—and the towels were fluffy and soft.
Wrapping one of those towels around his waist, Luke stepped back into the round sleeping area where the mosquito nets, still tied back over the huge bed, rippled gently in the sea breeze coming through the louvered windows. He could hear voices outside. People greeting each other as they made their way from the other bures to the meeting hall where the cocktail party would probably be under way already.
None of these dwellings had been here the last time. There’d been a rustic cabin or two that had been used by visiting marine scientists but they’d been closer to the laboratories and had clearly been demolished to make way for the new meeting hall. Luke had never needed to use one anyway. He’d come here to work at the hospital as part of his specialist training in tropical diseases so he’d stayed in one of the cabins set up for the FIFO—Fly-In-Fly-Out—staff that provided medical cover and a helicopter service for the whole group of islands and managed to keep a surprisingly excellent, if small, hospital running.
Even the local people who helped staff the hospital had been excellently trained. Like the nurses.
Like Ana …
Luke pulled on a short-sleeved, open-necked shirt and a pair of light chinos. He combed his hair but decided not to bother eliminating his five o’clock shadow. This evening, in particular, was a gathering of people who knew each other well and they’d been invited to relax here. For the next couple of days the intention was for them to enjoy a tropical break while they shared new ideas and then brainstormed the best way to use this facility in the future.
Outside, the sun was already low and the heavy fragrance of the lush ginger plants screening his bure from the next one made Luke draw in a deep breath. He’d only taken a couple of steps before he turned back, however. How ironic would it be to come here and end up as a patient? Digging into his bag, he found the tropical-strength insect repellent he’d brought and gave himself a quick spritz. He slipped the slim aerosol can into his shirt pocket to take with him in case one of his colleagues had not been so well prepared.
Like the accommodation bures, the meeting hall had been designed to blend with island style. It had a thatched roof and was open on all sides with polished wooden benches and woven mats on the floor. A table had been set up as a bar, and a man peeled away from the group gathered in front of it.
‘Luke. It’s so good to see you.’
‘Harry.’ Luke took the outstretched hand but the greeting turned into more of a hug than a handshake. They were
