The Doctor's Outback Baby. Carol Marinelli
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what I wanted,’ Clara said defiantly, but Timothy just shook his head, any hint of a laugh fading as he stared back at her.
‘No, it isn’t, Clara. You think that’s what you wanted, but you know deep down that you’d have hated yourself in the morning. And worse, far worse, you’d have lost Kell as a friend.’
‘How do you know?’ The anger was back in her voice now. Pushing his hand away, she stood up, half expecting him to grab her, to pull her back beside him, but Timothy sat unmoved. ‘Maybe bed’s exactly where I wanted it to end up. And if you hadn’t decided to play the moral majority maybe bed’s where I’d be heading right now. And I tell you this much, Timothy, right now it sounds like a far better option than this!’
‘Go on, then, go back in there, go and tell him how you’re feeling, but half a bottle of wine and a broken heart really doesn’t put you in the best position to make rational decisions. Take it from someone who knows.’
She stood for a moment, torn with indecision, knowing Timothy to be right yet praying he was wrong.
‘We’ve all made mistakes,’ Timothy ventured, sensing weakness. ‘We’ve all had our hearts stomped on.’
‘Please.’ Clara flashed a tear-filled glare at him. ‘What would a good-looking doctor know about a broken heart?’
‘Plenty.’ He smiled. ‘I’ve only been a good-looking doctor for a year, remember. Eighteen months ago I fell hook, line and sinker for one of the RNs on a surgical ward, and when I say I was besotted by her I mean I was seriously besotted. I had the ring picked out before I’d even plucked up the courage to ask her on a date. She was seriously stunning. The only trouble was, I was working as a nurse’s aide…’
‘You were a nurse’s aide?’
‘I had to pay my bills. Anyway it was good experience, taught me how to actually speak to patients, which is something even the best medical schools don’t even touch. Anyway, Rhonda never even glanced in my direction, not even once, until we were at a party. You know the type—a load of doctors, nurses and med students and way too much booze and suddenly she was all over me.’ He gave a cheeky grin. ‘It was the best night of my life. I’ll spare you the details, but I’m sure you get the picture. She was on an early shift and I told her I’d see her later that day at work and we’d go out for dinner, maybe go and see a band or something.’
‘Sounds nice,’ Clara commented.
‘It would have been,’ Timothy agreed. ‘Only, when she saw me on the ward the next day in my nurse’s aide uniform her face dropped a mile and she told me that she couldn’t possibly meet me later, that something had come up. And that was that.’
‘She dumped you for that?’
Timothy winced and nodded. ‘Of course, I should have told her I was really a medical student, that one day she’d get the doctor she so clearly wanted.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
Timothy shrugged. ‘Too much false pride, I guess. I wanted her to want me for me.’
‘Fair enough.’
After a moment’s thought she sat down beside him.
‘The story doesn’t end there, though.’ His arm slid behind her in what should have comforting brotherly sort of way but suddenly Clara was having terrible trouble breathing. ‘There’s going to be a huge postscript.’
When Clara didn’t respond he carried on regardless. ‘After I finish here I’m going to do my diving course and I’m going to walk back onto that surgical ward with a white coat on, tanned as brown as a conker, and…’
‘And what?’
‘I don’t know.’ Timothy frowned. ‘The fantasy gets a bit hazy there. Either we’ll walk off into the sunset and live happily ever after, or I’ll be terribly cruel and pretend I don’t even remember her name and totally ignore her relentless advances. I haven’t quite worked the ending out yet, but when I do I’ll let you know.’
‘Revenge is a dish best eaten cold,’ Clara said with more than a trace of bitterness, smiling when she saw Timothy’s startled expression.
‘It’s an Arabic saying,’ she explained. ‘I have the same sort of fantasies, I think it’s because I watch too many soaps.’
‘What’s your favourite?’
‘My favourite soap or my favourite fantasy?’ Clara sighed. ‘OK, you asked for it. I dream that maybe one day Kell will wake up and realise how much he adores me, realise that he simply can’t live without me, and when he tells me I’ll just shrug and say he’s too late, that I’ve moved on, that…’ Her voice trailed off, the tears starting again as she realised the futility behind so many wasted dreams.
‘What do I do now, Timothy?’ The indecision in her voice was so alien that for a moment there even she didn’t recognise it. She was a bush nurse, for heaven’s sake, used to thinking on her feet, used to making life-and-death decisions completely unaided, but right here, right now she’d never felt more unsure in her life.
‘Go home,’ Timothy said gently.
‘I can’t.’ Clara shook her head. As appealing as his suggestion was, there were a million and one jobs to be done tonight and most had Clara’s name on them. ‘There are the chairs to be stacked, the barn to be—’
‘You’d have left it for Kell,’ Timothy pointed out, ‘so why not let someone else do it?’ He had her hand now and was leading her away from the barn, away from Kell and a half a life’s worth of dreams. And after only a moment’s hesitation, after only a tiny glance backwards, Clara realised, to her own amazement, that she was meekly walking away with Timothy taking the lead.
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