Prescription—One Husband Read online

  ‘Be fast,’ Quinn growled and disconnected.

  Fern clipped the phone back to her waistband and turned to find Frank regarding her with perplexity. Clearly the afternoon’s events were finally starting to be understood.

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to be married, girl?’

  ‘You’ll have gathered we didn’t quite make it,’ Fern said cheerfully. ‘Maybe next time.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you’re worth waiting for,’ Frank said drily. ‘Can’t say the same for that groom of yours, though, Fern. Puffed-up bag of wind…’

  Puffed up bag of wind…

  Fern thought of her fiancé with a slightly guilty start.

  She should ring Sam’s house and find out how he was.

  Fern looked ruefully down at the mobile phone as she started the car again.

  She was in a hurry. Ringing Sam was wasting time.

  Ringing Sam was wasting time…

  Pete Harny was fine.

  The ten-year-old haemophiliac opened the door when Fern knocked and grinned hugely when he saw who it was.

  ‘Gee, Fern, you look a lot better like this. I like you much better in jeans. You looked a right proper twit in all that frilly white lace!’

  ‘That’s what I thought, too,’ Fern smiled. ‘Pete, you haven’t been sick, have you?’

  ‘Nah,’ he said scornfully. ‘That’s cos I didn’t eat the oysters.’

  Fern nodded. This child was sharp. ‘So you worked out what caused it, then?’

  ‘Well, stands to reason.’ Pete grinned. ‘Mum and Dad were both sick as dogs, though they’ve stopped being sick now, and the only thing they ate and I didn’t were the oysters.’

  ‘Why didn’t you eat them?’ Fern asked. ‘I was sure I saw you taking a couple from the tray.’

  ‘Yeah, well I did,’ he said. ‘Lizzy Hurst was so insistent—and Mum says when you’re a guest you have to eat everything that’s offered to you. But I hate oysters—especially ones with gunk cooked on ‘em like garlic. So I took some and buried ‘em in one of your aunt’s pot plants. I guess you’d better dig ‘em out when you get home, Fern, or the plant’ll cark it when they rot.’

  ‘You have such a delicate way of putting things.’ Fern grinned. ‘Are your mum and dad upstairs?’

  They were, and their condition reassured Fern. Both were starting to recover. Mrs Harny was well enough to protest against Fern’s visit.

  ‘I don’t know how you’re coping, Fern, dear,’ she said sadly. ‘What a tragedy. It would have been such a beautiful wedding.’

  ‘It still will be,’ Fern sighed, but it was starting to seem so unreal that it was like a bad dream.

  How could she go through it again?

  Lizzy next.

  This was the hardest.

  As Fern started the car again, the telephone at her waist shrilled into life.

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘Fern, it’s Quinn…’

  ‘Auntie Maud? Has she arrested again?’ Fern’s breath froze in fear.

  ‘No, she’s fine,’ Quinn said quickly. ‘Hell, Dr Rycroft, I didn’t mean to scare you.’

  ‘Why…Then why are you ringing?’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Outside the Harnys’. About to see if I can find Lizzy.’

  ‘Pete?’

  ‘Pete’s OK. He didn’t eat the oysters,’ Fern reassured him. ‘His mum and dad did but they’ve stopped being sick and are recovering. It seems once the oysters are out of the system they’re doing no lasting damage. Frank definitely needs observing, though—the vomiting’s made his diabetes run out of control and I’m not certain he’s stopped vomiting for good. Are you sure you have room for him at this hospital of yours?’

  ‘Four beds, all of them empty at the moment,’ Quinn told her. ‘Women’s and men’s ward.’

  ‘Good grief!’

  ‘“Good grief”?’ His voice rose in mock query. ‘Surprised that someone would put money into making a go of a medical practice in a place like this, Dr Rycroft?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said flatly. ‘I don’t understand why you have.’

  ‘And you suspect my motives?’

  ‘No. I…’

  ‘You’re just surprised,’ he said.

  ‘No one in their right mind wants to practise on Barega.’

  ‘You mean you don’t.’

  Fern took a deep breath. ‘Was that…was that all you wanted to say to me, Dr Gallagher?’

  ‘No.’

  To her fury Fern could hear the inevitable laughter in his voice again. This man thought life was one long joke. He’d found the events of the day one huge piece of comic theatre.

  ‘Well, what?’ There was fury in her voice and Quinn heard it.

  ‘I just wanted to say that I wish I could be with you,’ Quinn said, and the gentleness of his voice undermined her fury like nothing else could. It drove the air right out of her lungs and left her gasping. ‘You shouldn’t have to face Lizzy alone.’

  ‘I can cope alone,’ Fern managed.

  ‘I know,’ Quinn said softly. ‘But you shouldn’t have to.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  LIZZY wasn’t home.

  Fern knocked once on Lizzy’s front door but didn’t wait for an answer. Lizzy would hardly be here. Not if there was trouble.

  She’d be down on the hiding boat—a wreck of an old fishing boat that Lizzy had treated as a refuge since a child.

  Below Lizzy’s house was an estuary, scattered with oyster leases and overhung at the sides with giant willows. Lizzy’s grandfather had planted the willows sixty years before on a cleared estuary bank but the natural rainforest had returned, pushing its way around and through the growing willows in an impermeable mass.

  Not quite impermeable…If you knew the way…

  Lizzy had shown Fern the way—when life had been bad for Lizzy as a teenager and she’d desperately needed a friend. She’d led Fern down through the rainforest to where the ancient boat still miraculously floated under the willows. Lizzy’s family had a proper fishing boat moored at Barega jetty. This boat was one only she and Fern knew of.

  ‘It’s my private place,’ Lizzy had whispered all those years ago. ‘When Dad’s giving me a hard time I come here.’

  Lizzy’s dad had given her a hard time all too often. Her mum had departed, never to be seen again, soon after Lizzy’s birth and Lizzy’s dad had taken the brunt of his bitterness out on his daughter.

  It wasn’t all Lizzy’s fault that she was half-crazy.

  Fern climbed silently down through the undergrowth, knowing that Lizzy was just as likely as not to run if she knew that Fern was coming. Finally, when she reached the boat she swung herself swiftly down, blocking the door to the cabin with her body.

  Lizzy was inside.

  She was crouched like a half-wild animal. The tailored clothes that Lizzy had worn for the wedding had been replaced by her habitual torn shorts and shirt, and her hair was once again wild, frizzy and free.

  She stared up at Fern, half defiant and half scared stiff and Fern’s heart went out to her crazy friend.

  ‘Oh, Lizzy, you dope,’ she said softly. She stooped forward into the cabin and took Lizzy’s hands in hers, drawing the girl close to her.

  The half-trace of defiance died. Lizzy deflated like a pricked balloon and burst into tears on Fern’s breast

  It was a while before Fern got any sense out of her. Even when she could finally talk, her words were muffled by incoherent sobs.

  ‘Oh, Fern, I’m sorry…I made them all sick and it was only because Sam…I thought…I thought it would serve him right—for taking off and leaving me—and he was going to marry me, Fern, and I love the toad and you shouldn’t be marrying him because it’s me…it’s me…He asked me!’

  ‘He asked you to marry him when he was twelve and you were eleven,’ Fern said firmly. ‘Lizzy, childhood promises don’t count and you know it’

  ‘Well, they count with me!’

  Fern shook her head. She grip
ped Lizzy’s hand hard. ‘Lizzy, you know I wouldn’t marry Sam if I thought he wanted you.’

  ‘You don’t know Sam.’

  ‘No.’ Fern sighed. ‘Maybe I don’t. Not completely. But neither do you, Lizzy. All I know is that Sam and I want the same thing. We want security and we want to be away from the island. And you’ll never leave the island, Liz—not even for Sam.’

  ‘I’d be scared to…’

  ‘Well, there you are.’ Fern rose, knowing that she was in the best position right now for getting the truth—while she had drawn an admission from Lizzy. ‘Liz, what did you do to the oysters to make people sick?’

  ‘Oh…’ Lizzy hiccuped on a sob and gave a halfshamed grin. ‘You guessed it was the oysters?’

  ‘It’d be hard not to,’ Fern said with asperity. ‘For heaven’s sake, Lizzy, you didn’t salt them with anything poisonous?’

  Lizzy shook her head. ‘Of course not That’d be stupid. I knew bad oysters make you vomit about four hours after you eat them, and I wanted to be sure what damage I did.’

  ‘So?’

  Lizzy shrugged. ‘So I collected the oysters yesterday and left them out in the sun for a few hours. Then I stuck them in the fridge to make them freezing and get rid of most of the stink. They still smelled a bit off, though, so I added the garlic and bacon. I knew oysters like that wouldn’t be bad enough to make anyone desperately sick—I’ve eaten enough crook oysters in my time to know what the effects are.’

  ‘So you thought you’d just make people vomit and that would be that.’

  ‘And Sam wouldn’t get his pretty little wedding and his pretty little bride.’ Lizzy sniffed defiantly. ‘It’s not fair, Fern. Why are you marrying him? You know you don’t love him.’

  ‘Sam’s my friend, Lizzy,’ Fern said gently. ‘We both live in the city and we’re lonely. It makes sense.’ She sighed. ‘And your silly behaviour isn’t going to alter that. It’s just made a lot of people unhappy—and put people at risk for nothing.’

  ‘I didn’t put anyone at risk,’ Lizzy said sulkily.

  ‘No?’ Fern sighed. ‘Aunt Maud was so sick and so upset that she’s had a massive heart attack. We only just managed to resuscitate her and I don’t know what permanent damage might have been done. Frank Reid went home alone with his diabetes and his upset stomach. When I found him his blood sugar was climbing sky-high. I hope there’s no long-term damage there but I can’t guarantee it.

  ‘I have to go now, Lizzy. Quinn Gallagher and I have our work cut out to try and reverse the damage you’ve caused. I just hope there’s no one we’ve missed.’

  Lizzy stared up at Fern, her face a mask of horror. ‘Dear God, Fern…’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t mean…You must know I didn’t mean…’

  ‘I know you didn’t mean any long-term damage,’ Fern said wearily. ‘But maybe you didn’t think things through as much as you should have. You were angry at Sam and me—but you’ve hardly hurt us. It’s Aunt Maud you’ve hurt most of all—and she’s always been your friend.’

  She left soon after.

  Fern drove to Quinn Gallagher’s hospital with a heavy heart, the sun setting over the island in a huge ball of crimson fire as she did so. Someone should stay with Lizzy, she thought drearily, but she knew that Lizzy would have no one—and Fern herself was too angry to spend more time with her. Besides, Fern was needed elsewhere.

  She collected Frank Reid on the way.

  Frank settled comfortably in the back seat of the wedding limousine, looking out of place among the ribbons and bridal netting with which Aunt Maud had so proudly decorated the car. The old man was plainly exhausted and Fern kept an anxious eye on him in the rear-view mirror as she drove.

  Bother Lizzy.

  She glanced down at her watch.

  Seven p.m.

  The wedding reception should be drawing to a close right now and she and Sam should be boarding a plane to head back to the city. Back to their life away from this island.

  She wasn’t going through this again, she thought grimly. Not even for her aunt and uncle. She and Sam would have a quiet registry office wedding back in Sydney.

  Quinn Gallagher had purchased the biggest house on the island. The place had been built by a movie star as a romantic escape from the eyes of the media. The movie star’s escape from the limelight had been all too effective, however, and his bankruptcy had left the vast house on the headland at the north of the island uninhabited and useless.

  ‘The house is a white elephant,’ the locals had jeered, boggling at the corridors of guest rooms, ballroom, swimming pool and acres of manicured gardens.

  White elephant or not, it was the perfect place for a clinic, Fern thought, as she steered her white limousine in through the gates five minutes after collecting Frank. Quinn Gallagher must have money behind him to be able to afford this place.

  ‘Barega Medical Clinic’, the sign on the gate said, lit from underneath by concealed fluorescent lighting, and for an instant Fern felt a fleeting jab of envy. It would be wonderful to be a doctor here…

  Not here…Don’t be stupid, Fern…

  The lights were blazing from the verandah and as the car pulled to a halt Quinn strode from the main entrance to meet them. His dinner suit had been discarded in favour of casual trousers with a clinical white coat thrown on over an open-necked shirt.

  The change had done nothing to remove the impression of arrant masculinity about the man.

  Oblivious of Fern’s reaction, Quinn strode swiftly over and pulled open the back door.

  ‘Did you find the woman?’ he flung at Fern as he bent over Frank.

  ‘Lizzy? Y-yes.’ What was it about the man that had Fern flustered every time she laid eyes on him?

  ‘And?’

  ‘The oysters must have been left in the sun too long,’ Fern said a trifle unsteadily, aware that if she told the truth Lizzy could be up on a criminal charge.

  ‘I see.’ Quinn flashed her a fast, assessing glance and Fern knew that he really did see. ‘Then I can assume we should have no major problems.’

  ‘I expect not.’

  Quinn nodded but his attention was already shifting fully back to Frank.

  ‘How are you, mate?’ he said gently, noting Frank’s tight, pinched face. Quinn reached out to feel Frank’s pulse. ‘I reckon we’ll get a stretcher to bring you in to bed, eh?’

  ‘I can walk,’ Frank mumbled, but Quinn shook his head.

  ‘Why walk when you can ride?’ Quinn grinned at the ribbons on the car. ‘Though we might forgo a bit of the bridal splendour from here on.’ He motioned to the verandah and Fern saw a waiting trolley at the head of the stairs.

  How would they get that up to the entrance…?

  Then, to her amazement, Fern saw a wide, sloping ramp had been installed beside the granite steps. Chrome handrails bordered both steps and ramp.

  No expense had been spared here.

  Fern’s impressions of expensive renovation deepened the further she went into the clinic. Fern had been in this house once for a lavish party thrown on the movie star’s arrival to the island. Then the house had screamed glitz and glamour. Now it spoke of welcoming comfort, backed by clinical cleanliness and state-of-the-act technology.

  How could Barega support such a place?

  As she and Quinn wheeled Frank’s trolley along the main corridor Fern inwardly boggled. This place was worth a fortune and the medical renovations were worth almost as much again.

  The room that Quinn steered Frank’s trolley into was set up as a two-bed ward, though it was large enough to take six beds if the need arose. It was vast, with huge French windows looking out over the verandah beyond.

  It was a great place to be ill in, Fern thought, knowing that once the sun rose in the morning the patients could see the garden and the distant ocean beyond those windows. This was a far cry from the wards at Fern’s teaching hospital in Sydney.

  The other bed was already taken.

  ‘Fern!’

&nb
sp; Fern’s eyes flew to the bed’s occupant with shock.

  Sam…

  ‘Sam, are you OK?’ she asked swiftly, concerned. There must be something worse than a gastric upset happening to Sam if Quinn had admitted him.

  ‘Fern, where the hell have you been?’ her fiancé croaked from his mound of pillows. ‘I’ve been ringing your uncle’s house…everywhere…Finally I had to get Mum and Dad to drive me here!’

  Fern gazed down at her intended husband. His normally florid countenance had recovered some of its colour and his bright purple pyjamas increased the impression that he wasn’t dangerously ill. Then Fern’s gaze moved to Quinn.

  Why on earth had Sam been admitted?

  ‘Mr Hubert has vomited three times,’ Quinn Gallagher said solemnly, guessing her question. His expressive lips twitched only slightly as he spoke. Laughter, it seemed, was being firmly suppressed. ‘Mr Hubert feels there’s a very real danger he’ll become dehydrated and, after being so ill, the only safe place for him is in hospital.’

  ‘But you’re no sicker than anyone else who ate the oysters, Sam,’ Fern stammered, and then wished she hadn’t as Sam’s face tightened in anger.

  ‘How on earth would you know that, Fern?’ he snapped. ‘You didn’t even check. You just went dashing off and you left me…You left me…’ The big man’s voice rose on an incredulous note of disbelief. It seemed that such treachery could hardly be believed.

  Fern winced. She knew that Sam was one who called a cold the flu and the flu pneumonia but as he was normally an exceedingly robust individual she hadn’t been called on for too much sympathy in the past.

  Maybe, seeing that he was unused to illness, Sam was justified in being frightened.

  She crossed swiftly to his bed and bent to kiss him on the brow. ‘I’m sorry, love,’ she said gently. ‘But Maud was ill.’

  ‘She was hardly as ill as me!’

  ‘Maud had a heart attack, Sam.’ Fern was fighting hard to stay calm.

  ‘A heart attack!’

  ‘Yes.’