A Courageous Doctor. Alison Roberts
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forgotten who she is?’
‘No.’ Hugo’s tone was cautious. ‘I haven’t forgotten.’
The silence spoke volumes. A single instant that managed to cover so many years. A wealth of memories, both happy and sad. Flashes of grief. Of laughter. Of a lifetime left well behind now.
‘I keep in touch with her mother, you know. Eleanor and I always exchange Christmas cards. She rang me up yesterday. Or was it Monday? Anyway, she wanted to talk about Maggie.’
‘Why? Is she in some kind of trouble?’
‘Oh, no! Nothing like that. She’s coming to Queenstown. On Friday. I told Eleanor she could stay with you, dear.’
‘What?’ Hugo stood up again and this time he kept moving. Towards the fridge. ‘What did you tell her something like that for?’
‘They’re old friends, Hugo. Almost family. You know how close we all were once.’
‘That was a very long time ago,’ Hugo reminded his mother. He shook his head. ‘She’s coming this Friday? What for? Does she ski?’
‘I didn’t ask Eleanor about skiing. Does it matter?’
‘No.’ Hugo gritted his teeth as he opened the fridge. ‘I just wondered why she was coming.’
‘Oh. She’s got a new job.’
Hugo extracted the bottle of wine. ‘What’s she doing these days?’ He reached for a glass from the cupboard as a horrible thought struck. ‘Didn’t I hear years ago that she had gone nursing?’ They were trying to recruit nursing staff at his hospital. The prospect of having to work with Maggie Johnston was alarming to say the least.
‘Yes, you’re right.’ Gwen sounded surprised. ‘I’d forgotten that. But she’s not nursing now…I don’t think.’
Hugo pulled the half-inserted cork from the bottle with his teeth and poured what he hoped would be a reviving drink. There was no point trying to jog his mother’s memory. She would be happy to agree with whatever he suggested and prepared to conclude that whatever it was was probably correct.
‘Eleanor said something about driving. Yes, I’m sure that was it. Maybe she’s driving a truck.’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me. Probably something articulated and weighing in at about twenty tons.’
‘That’s a bit heavy for a girl, isn’t it?’
‘Maggie’s not a girl, Mum. She’s a grown woman.’ Hugo’s mental calculation was swift. He was thirty-six. His sister Felicity and Maggie had both been six years younger. ‘She’s thirty years old, for heaven’s sake,’ he grumbled. ‘She doesn’t need someone looking after her. I’m sure she’s perfectly capable of finding her own accommodation. She’s probably quite happy to pitch a tent on the side of the road if she has to.’ Hugo breathed a sigh of relief. ‘In fact, those large trucks usually have a sleeping compartment behind the driver’s cab. I’m sure I could find her a place to park it.’
‘Oh, no! That wouldn’t do at all, dear. I don’t think she owns a truck. She just drives…something. Eleanor said she’s been trying very hard to find a house to rent but they’re as scarce as hen’s teeth and ridiculously expensive.’
There was no hint of relief in Hugo’s sigh this time. Queenstown was notorious for a lack of rental accommodation during peak tourist periods and for outrageous prices at most times. He could well remember his own delight in purchasing a property of his own. His own home. Where he lived, quite happily, by himself.
‘There’s always motels. I’m sure I could find an available room.’
‘That’s what Eleanor suggested.’
Good for Eleanor, Hugo thought. At least someone was on his side.
‘But I said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Nelly. Why should she pay a hundred dollars a night when Hugo has a spare room and he’s living there all by himself. Lonely.”’
‘I’m not lonely, Mum. I keep telling you how happy I am.’
‘You’re still living by yourself, dear. It’s not natural—not at your age. You should be settled down with a nice little family by now. Do you know I’m the only person in my bridge club who doesn’t have any grandchildren?’
‘You have mentioned it once or twice.’
‘Some of them have ten!’
‘I’m working on it, Mum.’
‘I’m seventy, Hugo. And last time I checked I wasn’t getting any younger.’
The reference to a biological clock struck a disturbing note that distracted Hugo momentarily. Where had he heard something like that recently? ‘You don’t look anything like seventy,’ he said. Maybe some flattery would help him change the subject. ‘Are you keeping up with your yoga classes?’
‘Of course. Don’t try and change the subject, Hugo.’
‘As if I would.’ Could, Hugo amended silently with a wry grin.
‘How long is it that you and that girl have been seeing each other? You know who I mean. Jenny. No, Jane.’
‘Joan,’ Hugo supplied. He took a long swallow of his wine. That was it. It had been Joan’s biological clock he’d heard ticking today. ‘And we’ve been friends for about a year now.’
‘Are you going to marry her?’
‘Marriage isn’t something to rush into, Mum.’
‘I rushed into it with your father. We had sixteen very happy years together. Your dad had two beautiful children by the time he was your age.’
The short silence was weighted by the memory of his father’s premature death when Hugo had been only fourteen. At least Gary Patterson hadn’t had to live through the tragic loss of his teenage daughter. A daughter who would probably have obliged by producing at least a few grandchildren by now.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Hugo said placatingly.
‘You would have married her by now if she was the right woman,’ Gwen suggested brightly. ‘Maybe you should keep looking for a bit.’
‘I don’t have time to go out hunting for women.’ Hugo was annoyed by his mother’s inadvertently perceptive observation. Striking up a friendship with Joan had been almost inevitable due to her availability as a nurse in his hospital. The relationship had become a reasonably comfortable habit until very recently. Possibly today, in fact. Joan’s comment about her age and babies had probably made him uneasy because it reminded him of his mother. And now his mother was making him uneasy by sowing a seed of doubt about the liaison that suddenly seemed familiar enough to have been around, unrecognised, for some time.
‘I don’t think Maggie’s married.’
Hugo’s huff of laughter was incredulous. ‘Mum! Maggie’s a—’ He stopped short. OK, he hadn’t seen Maggie for more than ten years and she hadn’t really stepped out of ‘kid’ category then, but she was a grown woman now. He’d said as much himself and far too assertively to go back on. And he didn’t want to go back on that statement. Kids needed looking after. They needed a place to stay. ‘Maggie’s family,’ he amended hurriedly. ‘Or close enough, anyway. Like you said yourself.’
‘Exactly!’ Gwen sounded triumphant. ‘That’s why I knew you wouldn’t object when I told Nelly Maggie could stay with you.’
Hugo’s groan was silent. If he changed his tune and objected that Maggie wasn’t really in their extended family, his mother would have her pegged as a potential mother for her grandchildren. Either way, he was in for some feminine emotional blackmail that he really didn’t have the energy to contend with. He drained his glass of wine.
‘Fine,’ he growled