bottom lip. ‘A few. I’ve worked in disadvantaged areas in Tasmania but I was pretty shocked by the state of some of the houses here and the overcrowding.’
He closed the fridge and at the same time tried to close his mind against the vulnerable image of pearly white teeth on pink, moist skin. The milk slopped into the jug rather than being poured. ‘Yeah, the poverty is confronting. Over twenty per cent of the houses need replacing but the good news is that the land council is on target with their three-year plan to replace and build new ones.’
‘That’s great but I guess what I’m really asking is does Jimmy live in a condemned house? We can’t risk him getting a raging infection and damaging his kidney.’
‘True, but Jimmy’s very fortunate. Both his parents have jobs and although there are ten people in the house, Ruby has it well organised.’ He placed the jug under the stainless-steel steam jet and heated the milk. ‘We’ll get Ruby to bring him in each day and you can do the dressing. That way he can be at home but we can keep a close eye on him.’
The toast popped up and Mia put the slices on plates and buttered them. ‘OK, so I’ll remove his IV after breakfast. Do you want one last dose of IV antibiotics first?’
‘Yes, that’s a good way to do it and then he can go home with a seven-day course.’ Flynn poured the foaming milk over the coffee, picked up the mugs and turned to see Mia writing again in her notebook. ‘Discharge planning?’
She gave a curt nod, the shadows in her eyes suddenly looming large. She shoved the pad into her pocket as if the fact it was out of sight meant it no longer existed. ‘Thanks for the coffee. Help yourself to toast.’
Her reaction to the notepad puzzled him but the delicious smell of the toast distracted him and he bit into it, enjoying the combination of seeds and grains. He hadn’t tasted bread like this on any of the islands. ‘This tastes sensational. Where did you order it from?’
She looked coy. ‘I baked it?’
‘You made this? No wonder Jimmy virtually inhaled it. He’s probably never tasted bread like it. We only get the mass-produced loaves sent over from Darwin.’
She gave a wry smile. ‘And that’s why I brought my bread-maker.’
An idea struck him. ‘This would be fabulous bread for the diabetics due to its low-glycaemic index. Is there any way you could work out how to cook it on a campfire?’
Disbelief swept across her face. ‘A campfire? Why a campfire? I’ve seen ovens in houses.’
He shrugged. ‘Many Kirri people prefer to cook on open fires.’
‘I thought they’d only cook on a fire when they’re out bush, hunting or collecting bush tucker.’
‘They do that too but there’s a campfire in every yard. It’s an easier way to cook when you never know how many people are going to be eating with you.’
She sighed. ‘There are so many unexpected things. For instance, I didn’t realise that English would be the second or third language. It’s all so very different, but different in a good way.’
He nodded as an unexpected sensation of shared companionship streaked through him. ‘And that is what most southerners just don’t get.’
She reached for her pocket but caught his gaze, which had followed her movement. She let her hand fall back onto the table and fiddled with the mug handle, anxiety scudding across her eyes. ‘I’ll practise and see how the bread comes out unleavened, kind of like a wholemeal damper.’ He saw the thought travel across her high cheeks as her mouth curved into a smile. ‘If it doesn’t work, the kids could use it as a football.’
He laughed. ‘Either way, they’d be happy. Football is the second religion on the island.’ He knew she wanted to write ‘Damper’ down in that notebook of hers but had deliberately stopped herself. Why, he didn’t know and he really shouldn’t care. He should be thinking about getting out of here and going fishing.
A strained and unexpected silence expanded between them, vanquishing the companionable conversation that had existed when they’d been talking about work.
Mia pushed her chair back, her shoulders suddenly rigid with tension. ‘I’ll get the dressing trolley ready and give those antibiotics. See you when you’ve finished your coffee.’ She walked out of the room, her three-quarter-length pants moving seductively across a pert behind.
A wave of heat hit him hard and hot, and he stood up abruptly, trying to stall it. It didn’t work. All that happened was that he knocked over his chair. What the hell was going on with him?
He’d specifically chosen this remote region to avoid women and the nightmare of relationships. It had been working really well for two years. He’d carved out a life of work and sport and he was content with his lot. He didn’t want or need anything else.
His life was just as he wanted it.
So his reaction to Mia made no sense at all. He’d mark it down as an aberration.
A tall and curvaceous aberration.
He nuked the traitorous thought with an undisputable fact. Conversation between them died once they’d exhausted talking about work. Given the strained silence that had built between them once they’d finished talking shop, they obviously had nothing in common.
At least he’d worked that out quickly. That would kill this insane attraction dead in its tracks. Today he was going fishing and by the time Monday came around he would have got over whatever it was that was making him feel like a randy seventeen-year-old and Mia would be just another RAN.
‘Flynn?’
He turned from the sink. ‘Hi, Walter. Good news. Jimmy can go home today but he has to rest. Is Ruby with you?’
‘Yeah. She’s with Mia.’ Walter continued to stand in the doorway, his head down, avoiding eye contact in the traditional way.
Flynn had learned over time that just standing often meant the person wanted to say more. He turned back to the sink so he wasn’t looking straight at Walter and he waited. The two hardest lessons he’d learned since arriving on Kirra had been waiting and listening.
‘Mia did good with Jimmy.’
Flynn washed the coffee-mugs. ‘She did. She knows her stuff.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Any of your mob going fishing today?’ Flynn flicked the teatowel off the silver rail.
‘No.’ Walter moved his foot in circles against the lino.
The brevity of answers was another thing he’d got used to. ‘I thought I’d go. I fancy some barramundi for dinner.’
Walter shook his head. ‘No fishing today, Flynn. We got a ceremony.’
Surprise rushed through him. Usually he knew about the ceremonies and often he was invited to be part of them. ‘OK, well, I guess I’ll have to chance the fishing on my own, then.’
‘The ceremony is for Mia so you have to come, and bring her with you.’ Walter turned and left, walking
