FIVE O’CLOCK AND Mrs Marjorie Field’s nit problem was not only boring, it also extended well over her normal consultation allocation.
The society matriarch had housed her three grandchildren and their nanny while their parents were interstate, but had been appalled to discover they were nit-infected.
Everyone concerned had been treated. The parents had returned. Marjorie had handed back her grandchildren, along with lectures on irresponsible sons and daughters-in-law who dared not check their children before handing them over—and you would have thought the drama was over.
But Marjorie wasn’t one to let a grievance go, nor could she be totally satisfied that her beautifully bouffant hair was completely nit free. She needed Angus to check for himself and she needed something for the anxiety—‘Oh, the palpitations when I saw them, Doctor!’ Her booked short consultation thus became long.
He hoped it didn’t matter. Summer in Melbourne meant there’d still be a couple of hours’ beach time. On Thursday evenings he usually joined mates paddling kayaks round the bay. Tonight’s wind meant it’d be choppy enough to be interesting.
But they were meeting at six thirty and he had a final patient booked.
The receptionists knew the rules—Angus worked four days a week, nine to six, and that was that. His city clinic employed sixteen doctors, with after-hours patients outsourced to locums. Thus he accepted no bookings after five.
‘What gives?’ he’d demanded of the guys on the desk when he’d seen this last appointment. ‘Misty Calvert? Do we have a history?’
‘No, mate, she’s new to the clinic, but I felt sorry for her.’ Don on the desk was new, a soft touch. He’d toughen up, Angus thought. He’d learn the rules. Doctors here valued their time off above all else. Emergencies, long consultations, social issues—they could all be handled at another clinic.
By doctors who cared?
He did care, he conceded. Just not if it interfered with his surfing.
‘Why did you feel sorry for her?’ he’d asked, in a voice that made Don wince. ‘Why not just put her into a locum appointment?’
‘She wanted to see you. She has kids with her, a little boy and a baby. She came in just after lunch and asked to be seen urgently, but only by you. To be honest, she looked exhausted and so did the kid. Tired, sad, beat. She said...she said her baby needed to see a doctor and there was something she needed to tell you. Something about her sister...a Jancie?’
Jancie? It clicked with Misty’s last name, bringing back a flood of memories, most of them excellent.
Jancie Calvert. He’d met Jancie almost a year back, at the surfing championships on the Gold Coast. He’d been gutted that he hadn’t won—he’d been so close. But Jancie was gorgeous and funny and intent on making him forget his disappointment. They’d had a great time, but she was a no-strings person, just like him. They’d said goodbye with no regrets and that was that.
But now? Had something happened to Jancie? Was that why this woman was sad? Had she thought there was something more to their relationship than there was? Was she coming to tell him bad news?
He found himself bracing as he walked through to the waiting room to meet her.
But this woman looked nothing like Jancie. Jancie had been gorgeous, blonde—bottle-blonde, probably, but who’d been caring? She’d been perfectly manicured, beautifully attired—and pretty damned sexy.
He remembered the first time he’d seen her, in the bar at his hotel. He’d been there with surfing mates, and some time during the night one of his friends had introduced them. ‘Hey, Firth, meet one of your greatest fans. Jancie’s been telling us all about why you were robbed!’
She knew it all, everything about him, right down to details of every last wave he’d ridden during the contests. She’d lifted his shattered ego and made the night fun. She’d even made him decide to stay a few nights longer.
And this was her sister? This tired, milk-stained woman, cradling a baby, with a little boy huddling beside her as if he was afraid of the very room?
Her hair, mouse brown, curly—very curly—was bunched into an unruly knot. Dark-shadowed eyes looked out from a face devoid of make-up. She was wearing faded jeans, a stained white shirt and grubby sneakers.
She was probably around the same size as Jancie, not tall, not short. Slim build, if he could guess behind the stained shirt—though if the baby in her arms was any indication, she’d still be post-partum. In that case she was too thin.
She was about as far from the glamourous Jancie as it was possible to get.
But as he entered the waiting room, the little boy cringed and huddled tighter, and the woman looked up at him with exhausted eyes. Despite his confusion, the doctor part of him kicked in. He had rules about limiting his medical practice, but every so often something got under his skin. The fear on the little boy’s face, the look of exhaustion on the woman... Okay, maybe his kayaking mates might have to go without him.
The woman rose, lifting the baby with her and tugging the little boy up to stand beside her. As his last patients for the day, this little group had the waiting room to themselves and both woman and boy looked...afraid? What was going on?
‘Good evening,’ Angus said gravely and gave her his practised, doctorly smile. ‘Ms Misty Calvert? How can I help you?’
There was a moment’s pause while she seemed to brace. Then she took a deep breath, her chin came up and she met his gaze head on. ‘I’m Dr Calvert,’ she said bluntly. ‘But I don’t think you can help me at all. It’s Lily here who needs help.’ She motioned down to the baby in her arms. ‘I’m here to tell you that my sister’s dead. Jancie. She died during childbirth, but Lily survived. So... I’m sorry to spring this on you, but unless...unless I’m mistaken, we’re here to give you your daughter.’
There were some moments in life that felt like a seismic shift...when the earth almost seemed to disappear.
It had been like that for Angus when he’d learned his parents and kid brother had been fatally injured in a car accident. He’d been nineteen. He still remembered the sensation when the police had come to find him at his university college, when he’d stared at them blankly, not able to believe the unbelievable, feeling as though the ground was no longer under his feet.
And this was the same. His brain simply stopped working. There was some sort of fuzz going on. He couldn’t figure where to go from here.
‘You might need to sit down,’ the woman—Misty—said.
He didn’t. If he moved, that might make this real.
‘That’s not my baby.’ Maybe it was a dumb thing to say, but they were the only words he could find. They were the only words that could possibly be true.
‘You’ll need DNA to confirm it,’ the woman said, briskly now. ‘But I can’t find any alternative. You slept with my sister almost a year ago, right? Jancie Calvert? You spent two weeks with her on the Gold Coast? Jancie kept meticulous records and it seems it was planned. After her death I found spreadsheets, ovulation charts, all the preparations to make as certain as possible that she’d get pregnant and that she’d get pregnant by you. She kept records of your time together. She documented everything.’
‘I don’t...’ The air seemed to have been sucked out of his lungs. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘That’s understandable,’ she said, not without sympathy. ‘But I think it’s true.’ She motioned to a folder on the chair near where she’d been sitting. ‘It’s all there if you’d like to see. You’re not on the birth certificate because...’
‘Because she didn’t know who the father was?’ He was grasping at anything, but his capacity to think was way beyond reach.
‘Because she died.’ The answer was flat. ‘As I said, she died in childbirth. My sister had...friends who weren’t exactly reliable. At almost nine months pregnant she got into a car with some others who were drug affected. She...she might have been drug affected, too. Lily was born that night, by caesarean section, just before she died.’ She glanced down at the bundle in her arms. ‘The authorities had trouble tracing connections, so I only found out ten days ago. Because they couldn’t find any relatives, the nurses tentatively called her Lily, but I guess you can change that if you want. If you’re her father, that’s your right.’
‘I’m not her father.’ His voice sounded strange, not his own.
‘As I said, all the evidence she left says that you are.’ Misty’s voice suddenly gentled. ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to take in, but the truth seems to be that Jancie targeted you. She wanted a baby, she saw your photograph, she researched you and decided you’d make a good father. Or not actually a good father—a suitable sperm donor, without the trouble and expense of finding one commercially.’ She hesitated and her voice gentled even further. ‘So now I guess you need to look at her.’ And she tugged back a corner of the shawl so he could see the baby’s face.
He didn’t step forward—he couldn’t make his feet move—but she stepped forward instead.
Shocked as he was, or maybe instinctively avoiding looking at the baby, he still saw the compulsive movement of the little boy by her side. He’d been clutching the hem of her shirt, as if she might be about to run, and now he clutched it even harder.
There was a sliver of thought—the doctor in him—that wondered what was going on here? But then he saw the baby’s face and everything else faded to nothing.
He’d seen photographs of himself as a baby, of course he had, and he could see a resemblance. But there was more than that.
Angus had been eight years old when his little brother was born. He remembered his mum, fresh home from hospital, setting him up on the lounge room sofa and carefully placing Baby Archie into his arms.
His kid brother.
‘He’s ours,’ his mum had said, smiling through happy tears. ‘He’s ours to love and care for, for ever.’
He hadn’t exactly cared for Archie, he thought, but he’d surely loved him. He’d ached for him to be old enough to be interesting. He’d kicked the footy back and forth to him—probably kicked way too hard for a toddler. He’d pushed him to put his head under water in the pool while his mum and dad had protested, ‘He’s too young to learn to swim, Angus, he’s just a baby.’ He’d pulled the training wheels off his bike and taught him to go it alone. When Archie was seven he’d taken him for his first surf.
Blue eyes, wispy blond hair, a tiny, cherubic face... The resemblance... Archie...
The memory of those awful last few days flooded back.
No! This was a nightmare.
‘She has nothing to do with me,’ he said, but his voice sounded...like it wasn’t his?
‘I think she has.’ The woman was studying his face. ‘I was almost certain before I came, but now I’m here...the resemblance is striking. But do a DNA test if you want. I’ve taken on the parent role for ten days because there was no one else, but I can’t take it on permanently. She’s spent five weeks in hospital, but now...’ She hesitated again, but then forged on.
‘There were...drug issues with Jancie and Lily’s needed care. By the time the authorities located me they’d declared her well, but it’s left her unsettled. But you’re a doctor, you’ll understand. If you want to keep her, you’ll find her medical notes in the pram, plus a care guide. The basket has everything you should need for the next few days. I’m sorry this has taken you by surprise, but there doesn’t seem an alternative.’
‘What...what are you saying?’ His voice...was that his voice?
‘It’s simple. I’ve brought you your daughter and it seems you’re the only parent this little one has.’
‘I’m not...’
‘Look again,’ she said, gently now. ‘I think you know that you are.’
‘But I can’t... You’re her...you’re her...aunt?’ The panic he felt was almost overwhelming. ‘You have to care for her.’
‘But I believe you’re her father.’ A certain amount of steeliness entered her voice. ‘I was contacted ten days ago to be confronted by Jancie’s death and Lily’s existence. I took Lily in because there seemed no one else, but I can’t continue to care for her. If you’re her father...’
‘You can’t prove...’
‘I don’t need to prove it. It’s not my role to prove or disprove anything. The authorities have assumed I’ll take care of her, but I have Forrest to think of.’
She smiled wearily down at the little boy at her side. ‘Jancie gave me Forrest to look after, too. She was his mum, but I’ve had his care for the last twelve months. We’re doing our best, aren’t we, Forrest? I also have a disabled grandmother and a community of patients dependent on me. I can’t do more. So if you can’t keep Lily...’ She paused, took another deep breath, then continued, her chin tilting up again. Defiant?
‘I’m sorry, but if you can’t accept responsibility, then I need to hand her over to Social Services for adoption and I need to do it now. I’ve talked to the authorities—to her case worker. It seems there are lots of potential parents just aching to have a little girl as perfect as your daughter, and the sooner that happens the better. I’m prepared—I’d even like—to stay in touch, let Forrest be her half-brother. I am her aunt, after all, but I can’t take care of her any longer.’
She paused, but then forged on, almost as if her speech had been rehearsed.
‘Doctor Firth, I believe—and I think you do, too—that she’s your daughter and if that’s true, then what happens next needs to be your decision. I can’t look after her any longer. If you’re not prepared or able to take responsibility, then I need to hand her over to people who can. I’ll let Social Services know what I’ve discovered—I dare say they’ll contact you before any adoption takes place—but for now it’s over to you.’
And before he knew what she intended, she lifted Lily into his arms.
Misty had planned—hoped—she could say her piece and walk away. But thinking and doing were two different things. Her head felt as though it was exploding. Her heart was wrenching and as she backed away, Forrest tugged at her shirt, forcing her to look down.
‘Is he going to look after her?’
‘I hope he is,’ she said. ‘He’s her daddy. Looking after Lily is his job.’
‘But what if he doesn’t know how to stop her crying?’
‘He’ll learn,’ she managed. Then she thought, I don’t know how to stop her crying. He can hardly do any worse than me.
And she had to do this.
She’d looked at it from every angle. Her research had told her this man held down a respectable job, that there were no blemishes to his name, no criminal convictions, nothing to say that he wasn’t as qualified to be a parent as...well, as qualified as she was. He was also wealthy—very wealthy. Old money, the blurb she’d read on him said. His family dated from the squattocracy.
Jancie had obviously known this and tricked him into being a parent. Who knew what had gone on in that fancy hotel room they’d shared, but the look on his face as she’d produced Lily had her guessing that he’d thought pregnancy was impossible.
Such a scenario wasn’t unthinkable. Lies could be told. Condoms could be interfered with. Morals had never been allowed to interfere with what Jancie wanted and she’d obviously wanted this man.
There was a part of her that even felt sorry for him.
Sympathy or not, though, he was Lily’s father. As far as her research had taught her, his responsibilities were limited to a strictly defined four-day-a-week medical practice, Monday to Thursday and nothing else. This was a man who’d have time—if he was prepared to give it—to be a parent.
And her? The thought of continuing to care for this needy little girl was too much, but Forrest was looking up at her with anxious eyes. Despite what she’d said, she knew she couldn’t just walk away.
‘Why didn’t you ring me?’ Angus was saying, in a voice that sounded almost strangled.
‘Would that have helped?’ She sighed. ‘I thought of it, but you needed to see her. So much easier to refuse over the phone, don’t you think, than when you’re looking down at a little girl who looks like you?’
And that brought silence.
‘Forrest and I are staying at the Oakview Motel,’ she said at last. She wasn’t planning on leaving him completely high and dry. ‘We arrived last night to figure out where you were and set up this appointment. We live on Kirra Island, just out from Brisbane, and I need to be home by Monday. I’m the island’s only doctor, so that’s non-negotiable, but we can stay on for a couple of days, to make sure there aren’t any...’
‘Monday?’ He sounded panicked. ‘That’s three days. You’ll keep her until then?’
‘No.’ She made her voice implacable—there was no way she could relent. ‘I can’t. I haven’t slept for ten days. I know this is a bolt from the blue, but it was for me, too, and my choice now is either handing her to you or taking her straight back to Social Services. Forrest... Forrest has nightmares and his mum’s death has made them worse.’
‘Forrest is Jancie’s son?’ He was holding a bundle of baby—blessedly asleep now. He was looking down at Forrest as if he was struggling to find reality.
‘Yes,’ she told him. ‘But I’ve had custody for the last few months, and before that, while Jancie was in jail...’
‘Jail!’
‘There’s a folder there that’ll tell you all about her,’ she said. ‘It’s divided into two parts, the stuff you might want Lily to know as she grows up and the parts you might want to censor. Also, there’s the documentation Jancie made of your time together—I believe she may have had a future paternity suit in mind. Look, if there’s anything else you can contact us at the motel.’
‘But I can’t look after a baby.’
She flinched then, remembering the automatic assumption of the welfare authorities that she’d do exactly that. She was back in the hospital nursery, looking down at her niece, whose very existence had blindsided her. She remembered staring down at the tiny baby, feeling overwhelming grief for a big sister who, despite all the pain she’d caused, she’d once adored. But she was also thinking of the overwhelming panic as they’d handed Lily over.
The assumption was that if she was already looking after one of Jancie’s children, then of course she’d care for another. But how could she? Emotion surged and when she talked again her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘What makes you think I can?’
‘You’re a...’
‘Woman. Yep, I get it, but I don’t have lactating breasts.’ Deep breath. Get this over with, she told herself. Just do it. ‘There’s nothing I can do that you can’t—and as far as I can see you have way, way more time to care for her than I do.’ She softened a little. ‘Look, if there’s any real need you can phone me, but Forrest and I are heading back to the motel. I’m desperate for sleep.’
She motioned to the pram she’d brought in with her. ‘Everything’s there, everything she’ll need for the next week or so. Her medical notes are on top. I’m sorry, but unless there’s any major reason why you can’t look after her, unless you want me to take her straight to the authorities, there’s nothing more I can do.’
Nothing.
He stood with an armful of baby and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. And now there were other emotions superimposing themselves over his shock.
The baby was warm in his arms. She curved against his chest almost as if she was meant to be there and weirdly his body was responding.
Lily. It was a strangely old-fashioned name for such a tiny being. She was awake now. Her blue eyes were gazing up at him, still slightly unfocused, but definitely...definitely looking at him?
His daughter.
He could refute this absolutely. Right now, without DNA profiling, there was surely nothing to prove she was his. This woman was her aunt. He could simply set her down into the pram and walk away.
But there was something in this woman’s voice that told him she was making no idle threat. She’d take her straight to Social Services.
‘Please, at least for tonight...’ he managed to say. That sounded pathetic, but maybe any man who’d just had the floor pulled from under him would feel the same.
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t.’ Her voice was implacable. ‘I told you, I’m past exhaustion and I’m already...’ She hesitated, but then forged on. ‘I’m already getting attached and I can’t afford to be any more so.’
‘I’ll pay.’
‘What?’
‘I meant... I’ll pay for her care, at least until DNA tests come back.’ That’d give him time to take things in.
But the look she gave him made him feel as though he was something that had crawled out of cheese. Ouch.
And it hit him then, the enormity of what she’d been saddled with. Maybe even more than the responsibility she was thrusting on him?
‘I don’t need your money.’ Her voice was almost savage. ‘I need sleep and, to tell you the truth, I can’t see past that. Sorry. I’ve done what I came for.’ She stooped and gave the little boy a hug. ‘Forrest, we need to go now. Doctor Firth is going to look after Lily and he’ll do it really well.’
‘What if he doesn’t cuddle her?’ He sounded worried.
‘He will cuddle her,’ she said, definitively. ‘Won’t you, Dr Firth?’
Would he? His brain was refusing to function. But as she took Forrest’s hand and turned to leave, panic gave way to desperate thought.
‘Please,’ he said. ‘Stop. Give me a moment.’
She stopped. She didn’t turn, but there was something about the set of her shoulders that told him that she was finding this almost as hard as he was. The way she’d looked at Lily as she’d turned...
Her words were replaying.
‘I’m already getting attached and I can’t afford to be any more so.’
In that statement lay a chink of light.
‘You can’t hand her over to Social Services tonight,’ he said.
‘No, but I don’t need to. That’s your call.’
‘I can’t hand her over at this hour.’
‘Is he giving Lily away?’ Forrest’s voice was thin and distressed and he thought, why had she brought him? This was so unfair, to all of them.
And for some reason she seemed to read his thoughts.
‘Forrest needed to come with me,’ she said. ‘There was no choice. I’m his security blanket, aren’t I, Forrest? He stays with me for ever.’ She stooped and faced the little boy straight on.
‘I’ll never leave you, Forrest. I’ve told you that and it’s true. But Lily has a daddy and he’ll do the very best he can for her. If that means he needs to find another mummy and daddy who’ll care for her, then he will, but we need to leave them alone now to make their decision.’ She rose. ‘Your receptionist has my contact details,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, I know this has thrown your world into turmoil, but mine’s been thrown the same way, once too often. Your turn.’
‘But tonight...’
‘No.’
He was thinking, frantically. ‘Look, my house...’
‘You’re not going to tell me your house isn’t fit to hold your daughter?’
‘I...of course not. But I live not far from here and the house is big.’ His head was clearing, just a little—was that panic kicking in and giving him straws to clutch? He looked at Misty’s wooden face and decided talking to Forrest might be best. ‘I have a swing in the garden and there’s a park right across the street,’ he told the little boy. ‘It’s by the river and there’s a great playground.’
Then he took a deep breath, thinking this might just work.
‘I know the Oakview Motel where you’re staying,’ he said. ‘It’s rundown and it’s very noisy.’ That much was true—it was close to his clinic, on a busy street, dilapidated and obviously meant for cheap stays. ‘Can I ask if you...’ he was still talking to Forrest, sensing this might be a weak link in Misty’s resolve ‘...if you and your aunt would stay with me for a couple of days? Or at least for tonight? Just to help me learn...how to cuddle Lily?’
‘She’s easy to cuddle,’ Forrest ventured, eyeing him distrustfully. ‘Unless she’s crying, but she cries a lot. I think she’s missing Mummy.’
He closed his eyes for a moment, pushing back a vision of the lovely, laughing Jancie. A woman as different from this one as it was possible to be.
Mummy. The vision didn’t fit, but the woman facing him now fit the bill exactly.
There must be some way he could make this work—but he needed time.
‘I have five big bedrooms,’ he told Misty, facing her again. ‘I often have friends staying, but right now, apart from me, the place is empty. There are beds already made up. My housekeeper keeps the fridge stocked with food. The garden’s great. You could sleep...’
‘I can’t and won’t care for your daughter overnight.’ It was flat, inflectionless, totally non-negotiable. ‘I’ll fall over if I don’t get some sleep. My decision’s been made. I just...can’t.’
‘I’ll look after Lily tonight,’ he said. Anything to keep this woman here, while he figured his way forward. ‘The master bedroom’s at one end of the house, the other bedrooms are divided by the living areas. You won’t even have to hear her, and tomorrow we’ll make a decision.’
‘You’ll make a decision,’ she said bluntly. ‘I already have.’
‘Then I hope you’ll help me see my way forward,’ he told her. ‘Please, this has been an appalling shock.’
‘You get used to shocks, after a while.’
That made him pause. For a moment his own shock receded, enough to acknowledge her absolute weariness, obvious in her voice and on her face. She really did look as though she was about to fall over.
The medical side of him was suddenly surfacing, assessing. He saw few such women in this affluent Melbourne suburb, but during his training in the big city hospitals, he’d occasionally seen them. Women who’d been given burdens too great for them to bear.
‘My housekeeper sets up the spare rooms so they can be used at a moment’s notice,’ he said, gently now. ‘It’s only a five-minute drive away. Down by the river.’
And at that her head jerked up. ‘You have a five-bedroom house, by the river—with a housekeeper? In this suburb?’ Her voice was incredulous.
‘My parents left it to me.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘Yeah, it’s far too big for one, but I’ve never got round to selling it.’
‘Jancie’s research said you were well off, but...’
‘Jancie’s research?’
‘She seemed to have targeted you as the perfect father. Maybe she was even right.’ She was staring at him as if she was seeing another life form, but Forrest was tugging her hand.
‘Misty, I don’t like our motel,’ he whispered. ‘There were men yelling last night and it was scary. Doctor Firth says there’s a garden with a swing.’
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then another. When she opened them, she seemed to have come to a decision.
‘You say beds are already made up?’
‘They are. And I know my housekeeper’s left a lasagne in the fridge.’ He’d been expecting to kayak tonight. His home, large, central and welcoming, was often used as a base for his mates when they returned from kayaking and it was too late to find a pub meal. He’d asked Pat and she’d promised there’d be lasagne.
‘I like lasagne,’ Forrest ventured, and he saw Misty crack.
‘Fine,’ she said, sounding goaded, then she softened. ‘Sorry. That sounds ungracious. What we’ve done to you sounds appalling and I’m aware of it. It’s just that Jancie’s done the same thing to me and I’m left with no choice. So thank you for your offer, Dr Firth. Forrest and I would like to stay with you tonight. That way Forrest can see what we both hope will be Lily’s new home.’
That wasn’t exactly what Angus had planned when he’d offered accommodation, but he’d take what he could get. Keep her here, he thought, and tomorrow...well, who knew what tomorrow could bring? Some way of getting him out of this mess?