she sipped her tea, she noticed a black folder on the flecked-granite bench and she pulled it towards her. It was filled with detailed information about the house such as where the keys to the car were hung and where cleaning supplies were kept and it included many instruction pamphlets, all filed alphabetically, detailing how all the appliances worked. It had all the same dividers in it as the procedure folder Jack had given her at the hospital, the one she’d assumed his receptionist must have put together.
She wrinkled her nose. She guessed he could have beamed his flirting smile and convinced his receptionist to make up this folder as well. A flash of the serious-eyed doctor giving orientation suddenly jumped unbidden into her brain, lingering for a moment before being quickly replaced by the image of the man in leather, which was how she’d always remember her welcome gift to Barragong. But the delicious welcome was sadly over and now it was time to focus on being Barragong’s doctor.
Jack had left maps and a GPS so she studied the route back into town and found shopping bags in the large walk-in pantry that groaned with food. She could probably live off the contents for the full three months and restock at the end of her contract, but she never depended on anyone. She’d see to herself, starting from today. Glancing at the house map in what she’d christened ‘the useful OCD folder’, she located the office and in it, pen and paper to make her list. A sticky note was stuck to the computer screen: ‘Use the internet. Password in instruction folder’.
She shook her head, a silent chuckle on her lips. Of course it would be.
‘Min! I’m here.’
An excited child’s voice accompanied by the echoing sound of fast-running feet on the bare boards made Sophie jump and duck under the desk. Her hand flew to her chest as her heart hammered fast against her ribs, and she breathed deeply to find calm before investigating.
‘Min, are you hiding?’ The voice had gone from excited to confused.
Sophie returned to the sun room to find a dark-haired little girl standing in the middle of the room wearing grubby yellow shorts, a faded and too-small T-shirt and with a pink, plastic rucksack on her back. She clutched a soft-toy emu firmly in the crook of her elbow, its legs dangling against her tummy, its body squished against hers and the vivid-blue neck leaning rakishly over her arm. The beady eyes, astonishingly similar to the live version of the bird, bored into Sophie, making her shiver. The intense brown eyes of the child had the same effect.
‘Who are you?’ The little girl stared straight at her with the open scrutiny of a child.
The patch of eczema on Sophie’s arm prickled and itched. ‘I’m Sophie.’
The child frowned. ‘Where’s Min?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know who Min is.’ She tugged at a damned curl that fell over her eyes. ‘Where did you come from?’
‘You talk funny.’
Sophie sighed, trying to keep a lid on the rising anxiety she always experienced when dealing with children. ‘Yes, well, that’s because I’m from England. Where’s your mother?’
The child pointed behind her, back towards the front door, as she ran past Sophie towards the back wing of the house calling out, “Min.”
Sophie hesitated for a moment, trying to decide if she should follow the girl and tell her no one else was here or to go and find her mother. A second later she jogged up the hall, astonished to find the front door wide open. She stepped onto the veranda, expecting to see a woman waiting for an invitation to enter, but apart from the cane chairs the veranda was empty. A low-slung, rusted station-wagon, packed to the gunnels and with a plume of red dust trailing out behind it, was on the opposite side of the circular drive, heading away from the house and back towards the cattle grid.
With a shout, Sophie leapt off the top step of the veranda and hit the ground running, waving at the car. A woman hung her head out of the window, nodding, and waved back. Sophie stopped running and breathed out before catching her breath, fully expecting the car to reverse back to her. It didn’t. It just kept moving forward and in a heartbeat it had crossed the grid with a loud thrum and disappeared around the bend and out of sight.
Stunned disbelief rocked her to her toes. The mother of the child in the house had just driven off, leaving her daughter without so much as a ‘by your leave’. It was incomprehensible. Exactly what sort of country was Australia if children were just dumped? Her brain struggled to make sense of it all. Who was the child and who in heaven’s name was Min? But, most of all, how on earth was she going to deal with a little girl?
Sophie forced herself to head back inside, a million questions pounding her, and she found the little girl in the pink bedroom, sitting on the floor looking at a book. She still clutched the toy emu tightly but the rucksack had been abandoned on the floor.
Sophie stood in the doorway, wondering what to do and say next. ‘Is this your room?’
The child’s little shoulders rose and fell. ‘When I come and see Min.’
Sophie’s eczema burned with an insatiable itch. ‘But Min’s not here.’ She heard the slight rise of hysteria in her voice and tried to pull in deep, calm breaths, the ones that had kept her in control in a war zone. This wasn’t a war zone but it held its own terrors.
I hate you, Sophie, I really hate you.
She pressed her fingers to her now-throbbing temples. This situation was insane; she was quizzing an unreliable pre-schooler for information but she didn’t have much of a choice. Who dropped their child at a house without making sure there was an adult at home?
She stepped into the room and immediately felt like a giant, so she sat down on the floor. ‘You know I’m Sophie, so what’s your name?’
The child looked at her with enormous chocolate eyes. ‘Imogen.’
‘Imogen, do you know Dr Jack?’ The words snapped out in the brisk tone that always surfaced when she was nervous and she held her breath, wondering if the child would answer.
The girl nodded. ‘His room’s over there. She pointed vaguely towards the door and giggled. ‘We dance to the Wiggles.’
Sophie’s crowded brain saw Imogen point in the correct direction. If Imogen knew that was Jack’s room, then she knew the layout of the homestead. ‘Can you show me Min’s room?’
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным
