A Secret Shared... Page 5

  Would he let her treat Harry? With her explanation, and after Harry’s reaction to the events of today, it was a no-brainer.

  ‘Let me show you Toby’s notes,’ she said, and he stilled.

  ‘Toby...’

  ‘You’re Harry’s guardian. I saw the way you reacted to Toby’s death and I don’t blame you. I need...for myself...to reassure you that everything that could be done was done.’

  ‘It’s not my business. There’s no need—’

  ‘There is a need,’ she said. ‘And I have Amy’s permission. Her sister and her mum are here to help her take Toby back to Sydney. She’s overwhelmed, but she still registered your shock on the beach. I told her you were a doctor. She said...’ She swallowed, fighting for composure. ‘She told me to do whatever I must to persuade you to let me help Harry. So here you are.’ And she tugged a sheaf of medical notes and X-rays from the envelope and handed them over.

  He glanced through them. There was no need for questions: they spoke for themselves. As an oncologist, Jack had treated brain tumours—of course he had. Even the sight of the first X-ray, before surgery, before chemotherapy, had him knowing the end had been inevitable. The surgery and chemotherapy had been acts of desperation, buying a little time but not much.

  Resuscitation today would have been stupid and cruel. That this little boy had died where he had seemed little short of a miracle.

  He stared at the films, at the notes, at the final letter from an oncologist he knew, saying take him home and love him, and he felt his chest tighten.

  He’d so nearly intervened. If he’d come moments before...

  ‘I wouldn’t have let you interfere,’ Kate said simply, watching his face. ‘I’m in control here, and I don’t make decisions lightly. I do what’s best for each of my clients. I’ll do what’s best for Harry.’

  ‘I believe you.’ There was nothing else to say.

  ‘And I promise I won’t let Maisie trick you again,’ she said, and the tension broke.

  He gathered the notes and put them back into their envelope. It gave him time to collect himself, even drum up a smile. ‘She’s a smart dog.’

  ‘I found her as a pup. Believe it or not, someone threw her from a car. She was past the cute puppy stage so someone dumped her, scraggy and half-starved. I’d just accepted the job here and this place is a wildlife sanctuary, no pets allowed. The powers that be had to be talked into letting me keep her but they really wanted my combination of qualifications so they bent the rules. Now there’s not a soul who’s not totally devoted to her. Sometimes I think I’m not even needed. Maisie treats the kids for me.’

  ‘As well as tricking parents.’

  ‘She’s discovered it makes kids laugh,’ she said simply. ‘What sort of gift is that?’

  ‘Beyond price.’

  She beamed, lighting up. Serious confidences over. ‘Exactly. So you will stay?’

  ‘I... Yes.’

  ‘Excellent,’ she said, and motioned to the second envelope. ‘Let’s get this done, then. Forms. Questions. I need to know all about Harry, and all about you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Are you Harry’s legal guardian?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Will he live with you full time when he leaves here?’

  He hesitated. There was a huge question. It was one he’d been asking himself over and over.

  He was a bachelor, nicely confirmed. He was also an oncologist and a busy one. He had a girlfriend but theirs was long-term semi-commitment. Their lifestyle suited them both.

  He and Annalise were ambitious. Neither wanted to be tied down—apartments in the same luxury block was as close as either wanted to get. Annalise had her life and he had his.

  Where would Harry fit?

  ‘Earth to Jack,’ Kate said, and he realised he’d been staring out over the sea for too long.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said at last. ‘If you can cure him, maybe he can live with his Aunt Helen. She’s a mother hen. She has five kids and would like more.’

  ‘Define cure,’ she said. ‘What are you hoping for?’

  ‘He’s so withdrawn.’

  ‘Some kids are withdrawn. Was he like that when his parents were alive?’

  ‘He was quiet,’ he conceded.

  ‘You love him?’

  ‘He’s my nephew.’

  ‘It doesn’t necessarily follow that you love him.’

  ‘I loved my sister,’ he said inconsequentially, and she nodded.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘He’s very like her.’

  ‘Quiet.’

  ‘Not so much quiet as observant. My sister noticed everything. So does...so did Harry.’

  ‘But not now.’

  ‘He doesn’t say.’

  ‘The original form we received said he was living with his aunt.’

  ‘It’s a good home.’ Why did he suddenly feel like he was stuck on a pin, like an impaled butterfly? ‘They have a huge house. Helen’s great with kids, and so’s her husband. Harry should be happy there.’

  ‘But he’s not.’

  ‘He just...disappears. Shrinks. I can’t explain it.’

  ‘So you want me to make him outgoing and boisterous so he’ll fit into a family of five kids. It won’t happen,’ she said bluntly. ‘A family of five has their own pecking order, their own entrenched hierarchy. To put a wounded seven-year-old in their midst will never work.’

  ‘He won’t be wounded. If I can just get him talking...’

  ‘He’s lost his parents,’ Kate said flatly. ‘He’ll always be wounded.’

  This wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but he stared out to sea some more and he knew it was the truth. Harry was never going to fit in with Helen’s brood. So where did that leave him?

  ‘Do you have a wife or partner?’ Kate asked, not without sympathy.

  ‘Um...yes. Girlfriend.’ Maybe not partner. They weren’t close enough for that.

  ‘One who likes kids?’

  ‘No. Not that I’m planning to palm him off—’

  ‘I’m not saying you are. It’s just that kids are hard work. Taking on a seven-year-old is huge. If you and...’

  ‘Annalise,’ he said, and he knew he sounded goaded but he couldn’t help it. The sensation of being impaled was growing.

  ‘Annalise,’ she said. ‘Nice name. If you and Annalise plan on having babies of your own it’ll make things more complicated.’

  ‘This isn’t about me.’

  ‘Of course it’s about you. Harry’s whole future seems to be about you.’

  This wasn’t what he wanted to hear. ‘Look, can we get tomorrow over with first?’

  ‘You’re definitely staying tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you haven’t made your mind up about after that? Whether you’re ready to be Harry’s dad?’

  ‘I’ll be Harry’s guardian.’

  ‘That’s not enough. Harry needs more and you know it. If Annalise isn’t interested, you’ll be Harry’s mum and dad combined.’

  ‘Will you leave it?’ It was an explosion in the stillness of the night, startling him as well as the couple of bush turkeys scratching at the footings of the bungalow. ‘It’ll sort itself out as we go along.’

  ‘Does Harry know where his future lies?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean Harry’s been in hospital and then at his Aunt Helen’s with his five cousins and then travelling with you and now he’s here. Does he have any idea where he’s going to live; what his future life will be like?’

  ‘What business—?’

  ‘Is it of mine? Plenty. This isn’t just a place where kids come to play with dolphins. The dolphins are background. What they
do is help the kids relax so we can help them sort the problems surrounding them. We achieve therapeutic success because our environment is far less threatening than any normal medical setting. As well as that, the dolphins—and Maisie—actively remove barriers wounded kids put up around themselves. They forget to defend themselves. I’m willing to bet we can get Harry doing more with his legs tomorrow than he’s done since the accident. As well as that, he’ll be more receptive to talking. But, Jack, what Harry needs right now is certainty and that’s up to you.’

  She rose and laid the forms down on the table. ‘These forms aren’t just about you,’ she said. ‘They’re about you and Harry. The mending team. The family. You need to work it out so that when Harry surfaces from grief and shock and manages to ask, you can give him the assurances he needs. Mind, it’d be better if you could give him those assurances now, but you have things to come to terms with as well. If you like, we’ll organise you your own dolphin companion to help. Meanwhile, can you fill these forms in for me? I’ll pick them up in the morning.’

  She turned to go but then she hesitated, turning back.

  ‘Jack, thank you for reassuring me about my name change,’ she said softly. ‘It means everything to me. And thank you also for entrusting Harry to my care. I will help. I promise.’

  ‘I know you will.’ Where had that come from? But he knew it was true. From total distrust, he now had faith.

  Why? Because she told a good story? Because he’d known her as a student? Because she was forcing him to face something he’d been actively avoiding?

  Or maybe it was none of those things. Maybe it was because she was standing in the moonlight in her faded jeans and windcheater and her bare feet, and she looked about fourteen, although he knew she was much older.

  Maybe it was the freckles.

  Maybe it was the smile. She was smiling now, quizzically, waiting for him to say goodnight and give her leave to go.

  ‘Won’t you have another drink?’ he found himself saying.

  She looked at him then, really looked, and he was reminded of the looks she’d given him when he’d been fooling round in the lab at med school, when time had been starting to run out and she’d reminded him they were there to work. And he remembered suddenly how much he’d wanted to ask her out, and how frustrated he’d been when she’d knocked back his advances.

  But she wasn’t thinking about the past. This was all about now. This was all about Harry.

  ‘This is my job,’ she told him gently. ‘Jack, you’re the parent of my client. I might have sand between my toes but here I’m every inch a professional. I had a glass of wine with you then because I needed to break that professionalism to gain your trust, but now we need to move forward. Besides,’ she said gently, and she even managed a bit of a teasing grin, ‘Annalise wouldn’t like it. Goodnight, Jack.’

  And she was gone, slipping silently into the shadows, leaving him with the forms to be filled in, with the moonlight over the sea and with silence.

  And with all the questions in the world racing through his head.

  Inside Harry was asleep, curled up with a great lump of a trickster dog. He was seven years old and totally dependent on him.

  Back at Sydney Central, Annalise would be expecting a call.

  But it was Friday night. On Friday nights he and friends usually went out to Silence, a discreet and expensive supper club where great jazz was played, where excellent wines were served, where medics could unwind after the tensions of the week. And spend a lot of money.

  Annalise would be there now, he thought, enjoying herself even without him. She’d be looking beautiful, tall, willowy, blonde, dressed simply but flawlessly. She’d be laughing, sparkling, the centre of attention. If he phoned her now she’d step out onto the balcony and watch the harbour lights while she talked sympathetically to him about what he was doing. Then she’d step back into his world.

  How could he take Harry back there?

  He was here to fix him and prepare him for entry into Helen’s family. That had been his hope but now the plan seemed...flawed?

  Why? Because a wounded and hunted doctor with bare feet and a freckled nose had told him it was flawed?

  And why were those freckles superimposing themselves over Annalise’s more glamorous image?

  It was because he was tired, he told himself, and also because he was shocked. He thought back to the Cathy he’d known during med school—and he thought of how she’d changed after she’d married. She’d withdrawn into herself. They’d all noticed it but none of them had pushed to find out why.

  They’d been kids. They’d been centred on passing final exams. The thought that any one of them could be in an abusive relationship had been so far out of their ken that it had been unthinkable.

  Yet he’d thought of himself as her friend, and he’d never asked. He’d never pushed to know about this unknown husband. Maybe he’d even been a bit resentful that she’d clearly preferred someone else. Adolescent jealousy? How dumb was that?

  But it was no use feeling guilty now, he told himself. As Cathy...Kate had said, from now on this was a professional relationship. He was here to cure Harry.

  Cure?

  Tonight Kate—and he would think of her as Kate, he conceded, because professionalism was the only way to face the next few days—had reminded him that Harry was still the same Harry he’d always been underneath his shock and grief and battering. She’d forced him to acknowledge that a quiet, shy little boy was always going to be quiet and shy and that maybe he’d never fit in with Helen’s brood.

  Which left him where?

  He thought of his sister, Beth. She’d also been quiet and shy. She’d been his little sister and he’d loved her.

  She’d want him to look after her little boy. Of course she would. But how?

  He thought back to the supper club, to where he should be now and where he wanted to be again. Then he looked out to sea.

  A burst of fluorescence broke the trail of silver moonlight over the water as a dolphin leaped high, curved and plunged into the depths again. It was no wonder people associated dolphins with magic, he thought. Here in the moonlight it was almost possible to believe they were right.

  Which was nonsense. He had to stay practical.

  The problem was that his problem had got past the practical. It was so immense it needed a little magic.

  Kate had found peace here, he thought inconsequentially. She’d found a new life. She’d found a solution. Maybe...

  Or maybe not. This place was a temporary refuge. The real world was waiting. He’d take Harry back and try and figure out a future.

  As Kate had.

  Why was he still thinking of her? Weren’t his own problems paramount?

  Maybe they were. He poured himself another beer but he didn’t drink it. Instead, he stared at the sea, unconsciously willing another dolphin to break the surface.

  It didn’t. It seemed the magic was over for the night. It was time to head for bed, get rested ready for whatever tomorrow held.

  It was time to stop thinking about a woman who’d changed her name from Cathy to Kate.

  * * *

  Kate walked back to her own little bungalow behind the administration building and prepared for bed. Today had been gut-wrenching. As much as she’d been prepared for Toby’s death... No, nothing ever prepared you for a child’s death. It had cut deep, and then, as she’d been still struggling to control her emotions, Jack Kincaid had walked back into her life.

  Jack. Big, larger than life, smart, funny, nice. At med school she’d thought of him as one of her best friends, and after her marriage she’d struggled to withdraw from his friendship.

  She shouldn’t have had to withdraw but Simon’s jealousy had been stretched to the limit coping with her desire to do medicine. For her to have an outsid
e circle of friends had been something she’d had to sacrifice.

  She should have walked away so much sooner. That first week of her marriage, on their honeymoon, Simon had left her at dinner to make a telephone call. A fellow diner had approached her and started chatting. Yes, it had been a come-on, yes, she had been dressed up to the nines, alone, female, and Simon’s long telephone call had left her looking stranded.

  But on his return Simon’s reaction had been icy. He’d cut the guy dead, and for the rest of the night and the next day Kate had been ‘punished’. Lesson: ‘You want me to love you, then you’re mine and mine alone. I’m in control.’

  She should have walked. No, she should have run, but her parents would have been heartbroken and, besides, Simon had been lovely underneath—hadn’t he? When he’d been happy he could make her happy. She’d just had to be careful.

  How long until she’d been totally under his control? How long until she’d finally snapped out of it and realised how much of a victim she’d become?

  It had taken a hysterical phone call from her mother— ‘He’s taken everything.’ Bleak to the bottom of her soul, she’d gone to the police. Not just with evidence of fraud but with resolution as cold as ice.

  Then...months in a women’s refuge. Help from the wonderful women who ran these places. Help from the police—it seemed his family wasn’t alone in the list of people Simon had cheated.

  What had followed had been a name change and a move to New Zealand. A new life. Even a sort of peace, though trust in herself was still hard to come by.

  And then today here was Jack, bringing memories of a time when she’d still been Cathy, when life had been fun, when the most important thing in the world hadn’t been to hide.

  Jack...

  She’d always thought he was gorgeous, she reflected, but, of course, even in first year she’d already had Simon as her permanent boyfriend. She’d been able to watch from the sidelines and tease as he’d gone through his myriad girlfriends. Jack had treated life as one long game, though in his medicine that game had been used to effect. He’d never lost sight of his patients’ needs, and his laughter had been used to make them smile.