Four months later, the sun was hot on Matt Landor’s back as he glared down at his boss’s face. The two of them were standing on the wooden veranda of the medical station, sheltering from the midmorning sun. Dr. Shelly Cabot was glaring back at him, arms folded, and Matt was trying desperately hard not to smile. If he did, she might think he wasn’t serious, and he’d never been more serious about anything in his life.
‘It’s not that bad, Matt. You’ll be back here before you know it,’ she said in the voice she often used before inflicting major pain on one of their patients.
‘It would be so much better if I didn’t go at all,’ he said, shifting position so she had to blink against the sun to answer him.
‘We’ve talked about this. You need to get out of Tuman and go home to England. Drink tea. Play cricket…’ she said.
‘Nice try, Shelly, but there’s a problem with that. I don’t drink bloody tea and cricket bores the crap out of me.’
Shelly let out an exasperated gasp. ‘Matt, you know damn well what I mean. Go and do whatever the hell you Brits do. Get pissed and wreck a bar if you like. Just take a break. A proper break. For God’s sake, you could even try talking to someone.’
That last piece of advice had Matt snorting in derision, but Shelly’s smile faded and her eyes hardened. ‘You’ve been here nearly a year and you’re overdue some decent leave. Even if you hadn’t been involved in the accident I’d still have expected you to go back home for a few weeks. After what’s happened, it’s an order, and if you don’t do as I say, so help me, I won’t have you back at all.’
Ah, the accident. He’d known she’d bring that up sooner or later. It had been four weeks since it happened and he admitted he’d been shaken up by it… more than shaken, mate, a voice whispered in his head. He balled his hands into fists as he felt the tremor invade them, but finally let a smile touch his lips.
‘Shelly, has anyone told you how sexy you look when you’re pissed off?’
Her mouth opened in an O. ‘You cheeky, sexist basta—’
‘Shhh. The children are listening.’
On cue, a gaggle of kids burst out of the entrance to the medical station, swarming around them and dancing in excitement.
‘Dr. Matt! Are you going?’ a boy shouted.
‘When are you coming back?’
A small girl slipped her hand in his, curling her warm fingers around his. ‘Why are you going away?’ she said, gazing up into his face.
Matt held his breath. He couldn’t use a child to score points over Shelly, no matter how wrong he thought she was in sending him back to the UK, no matter how much doctors were needed in the remote South Pacific jungle community, or how much he wanted to stay. He smiled down at the little girl, who was now twisting the hem of her skirt round and round in her hands.
‘Do you have to go away?’ she said.
He squatted down on the veranda so he could be at her level. ‘For a little while, but I’ll be back very soon,’ he answered, laying emphasis on the soon, knowing Shelly was listening to his every word and would understand him perfectly.
‘Good,’ said the girl. Satisfied, she let go of his hand and skipped off down the steps towards the stilted houses fringing the river.
‘Kids, can you let me say goodbye to Matt properly, please?’ called Shelly.
Laughing, the children raced off, leaving Matt and Shelly alone again. He could feel the sweat pouring down his back, his shirt sticking to him. Above them the sun, white and blinding, beat down like a furnace but the fierce heat felt kind on his skin. It was natural. It reminded him of where he belonged.
Leaning on the veranda rail, he looked out over the clearing, the village, and the river, to the lush jungle that stretched endlessly all around.
‘If you care about them, go home and take a break,’ said Shelly as the children piled into canoes at the water’s edge, laughing and squealing with glee.
‘That’s emotional blackmail.’
‘That you didn’t use on me when you had the chance just then. And that’s because you’re not the stubborn bastard you like us to think.’
Matt kept his eyes forward. ‘Well, thanks for your support, Dr. Cabot.’
‘And thank you for your cooperation, Dr. Landor. Now, your carriage awaits.’
She nodded at the rusty Jeep idling on the muddy red track that led from the medical center to the tiny airstrip twenty miles away. It was the only way out of the village, other than by canoe or on foot; the only route to reach patients in the outlying communities and the only way home.
‘You know this is ridiculous. You’re desperate for medics and you send one of your most experienced back home,’ he said as they walked down the steps to the track.
Standing on tiptoe, Shelly brushed his cheek with her lips. ‘We can manage without you for a while, and despite what you think, you’re not the only hot-shit doctor in Tuman.’
‘I never said I was,’ he growled.
‘Really? You could have fooled me, the way you’ve been behaving, as if you want to take on the world single-handed. Jeez, you almost killed yourself.’
‘I’m fine. It wasn’t me that got hurt, remember?’ he said, trying to banish the memory of the accident, the smell of burning rubber, of spilled diesel, the panic that had threatened to overwhelm him, the sight of his friend Aidan bleeding and unconscious in the wreckage.
‘Are you okay, Matt?’
Shelly touched his arm and Matt flinched.
‘You know damn well I am.’
Shaking her head, she called to the driver of the Jeep, ‘Dr. Landor is ready to leave now.’ She turned back to Matt. ‘Have a good trip. I’ll see you in the autumn, if you behave back in England,’ she said, kissing him briefly. Then she was walking back towards the wooden veranda of the medical station, and he was turning his back and trudging towards the Jeep with all the enthusiasm of a man heading for the tumbril that would take him to the guillotine. Ahead of him lay a two-hour road trip to the airstrip, a hop on a Cessna to the island’s main airport, and a long, tedious flight to London.
Stretching out like a sluggish brown river lay four months of enforced rest and recuperation in England. Four months if he was lucky and could convince the powers-that-be at the medical charity that he was fit to come back and practice again. But there was one consolation, if you could call it that. He’d get home just in time for the wedding. An old university friend had invited him to be an usher; not that Matt liked weddings—usually he found catching malaria more fun—but it would be good to meet up with an old mate after all these years.
Throwing his bags into the back of the Jeep, Matt climbed in beside the driver and grunted a hello. The engine started and he glanced round. Shelly was standing outside the medical center, her hand raised in farewell. The kids were dancing round her, waving wildly. Then the wooden huts became smaller, the river glittered one last time, and he was swallowed up by the jungle.