the night,’ he told her, ideas cementing. He hated leaving Angus. He needed a full-time nurse, but Angus refused point blank to have one. With the state of his lungs, leaving him by himself seemed criminal. He should be in hospital but he refused to go. There was a bed at the nursing home available tomorrow and the old man had agreed with reluctance that he’d go then.
Which left tonight.
If he could persuade these two to stay, even if they were after the old man’s money…
‘I’ll introduce you,’ he told her, doing such a fast backtrack that he startled her.
‘What, now?’
‘Yes, now. If you promise to stay the night then I’ll introduce you.’
She was staring at him like he had a kangaroo loose in the top paddock. ‘We can’t stay the night.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well…’ She looked at him in astonishment. ‘We’re not invited.’
‘I’m inviting you. Angus needs his family now more than he’s ever needed anyone. Tomorrow he’s being moved into a nursing home but he needs help now. He has pulmonary fibrosis—he has severely diminished lung capacity and I’m worried he’ll collapse and not be able to call for help.’ He eyed her without much hope, but it was worth asking anyway. ‘I don’t suppose either of you is a nurse?’
She eyed him back, with much the same expression as he was using. Like she didn’t know what to make of him but she was sure his motives were questionable.
‘Why?’
‘I told you.’ He sighed and glanced at his watch again. ‘He’s ill. He needs help. If you want to see him…are you prepared to help? If one of you is a nurse…’
‘Neither of us is a nurse. Susie is a landscape gardener.’
‘Damn,’ he said and started turning away.
‘But I’m a doctor.’
A doctor.
There was a long pause.
He turned back and looked at her—from the tip of her burnt curls to the toe of her muddy foot.
She was glaring at him.
He wasn’t interested in the glare.
A doctor.
‘You’re kidding me,’ he said at last. ‘A people doctor?’
‘A people doctor.’
A tiny hope was building into something huge, and he tried frantically to quell it.
‘You know about lung capacity?’
‘We have heard of lungs in America, yes,’ she snapped, losing her temper again. ‘The last ship into port brought some coloured pictures. The current medical belief in Manhattan is that the lungs appear to be somewhere between the neck and the groin. Unless we’ve got it wrong? It’s different in Australia?’
Whoa. He tried a smile and held his hand up placatingly.
‘Sorry. I only meant—’
‘Oh, it’s fine,’ she told him bitterly. ‘Who cares what you meant? You’ve insulted us in every way possible. But…’ She hesitated. ‘Angus is dying?’
His smile faded. ‘He’s dying,’ he said softly. ‘Maybe not tonight, but soon. Much sooner if he’s left alone. He’s refusing oxygen and pain relief, he has heart trouble as well, he won’t let the district nurse near, and if you really are a doctor—’
‘If you don’t believe me—’
‘Sorry.’ He needed to do some placating here, he thought. Fast. ‘Angus is my friend,’ he said softly. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve sounded abrupt but I hate leaving him alone. If you agree to stay here tonight you’ll be making up for a lot.’
‘Making up for…?’
‘Neglect.’
Mistake. ‘We have not neglected anyone!’ It was practically a yell and he gazed at her in bewilderment. She turned a great colour when she was angry, he thought. Her eyes did this dagger thing that was really cute.
Um…that meant what exactly?
That meant he was being dumb.
Cut it out, he told himself crossly. You have hours of house calls. Move on.
‘OK,’ he agreed. ‘You didn’t neglect Angus. You didn’t know about Angus. I’ll accept that.’
‘That’s noble of you,’ she snapped. She glanced behind to the car, but the woman in the passenger seat didn’t appear to be moving. ‘Angus really does need help?’ she asked. ‘Medical help?’
‘He really does. Personal as well as medical. Urgently.’
‘We’ll stay, then,’ she told him, and it was his turn to be taken aback.
‘Just like that. You don’t need to consult your sister?’
‘Susie’s past making decisions.’
He frowned. ‘You said she’s ill. What’s wrong with her?’
‘She’s not so ill that she can’t stay here the night. I assume there’s bedding.’
‘There are fourteen bedrooms. Deidre—Angus’s wife—was always social. No one’s been in them for years but once a month the housekeeper airs them, just in case.’
She was only listening to what was important. ‘So there’s room to stay. The bedrooms are on the ground floor?’
‘Some of them are, but—’
She wasn’t listening to buts. She was moving on. ‘Where’s the housekeeper?’
‘She doesn’t live in. She comes in three times a week from Dolphin Bay.’
‘He really is alone.’
‘I told you.’
‘And I heard,’ she snapped. ‘Fine. Go and tell him we’re coming.’
‘Who did you say you were?’
‘I’m Kirsty McMahon.’ She drew herself up to her full five feet four inches and rose on her toes so a bit more was added. ‘Dr Kirsten McMahon. My sister, Susan, was married to Rory, His Lordship’s nephew.’
‘The Rory who was killed.’ He hesitated. ‘I remember. Kenneth—another of Angus’s nephews—told Angus some months ago that his brother had been killed in the States. I’m sorry. But—’
‘Just leave it,’ she said bitterly.
