A Secret Shared... Page 6

  He’d lost his sister now and his smile had faded but it was still there behind the grief. There was still Annalise in the background. He was struggling with his little nephew’s needs, but he’d manage, he’d juggle, he’d call in favours, he’d get what he wanted.

  Would he commit to Harry?

  It couldn’t matter to her, she decided. She’d do what she could for the time they were here and then see them leave. What was it they’d taught her in medical school all those years ago? Don’t judge. Accept people for what they are, do what you can for them but in the end their choices are their own.

  Don’t...care?

  Impossible.

  She wouldn’t mind if Maisie was here.

  Maybe she should get another dog, she thought, now Maisie had taken it on herself to divide her loyalty between the kids she loved playing with during the day. But, then, a puppy would be adored by the kids as well, so she’d have two dogs out comforting kids. She wouldn’t mind a bit of comfort herself.

  ‘Wuss.’ She’d said it out loud and it echoed in the quiet of the bungalow.

  She thought back to those first few dreadful weeks of sleeping in the women’s refuge. She’d lain in bed at night and she’d formed a mantra.

  ‘I don’t need anyone. I’m worth something in my own right and I can live alone.’

  She’d been saying that to herself for years now and she believed it. Or she almost believed it.

  Right now she’d like Maisie.

  And, stupidly or not, right now she couldn’t stop thinking of Jack.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JACK WOKE TO a whump, whump, whump out in the living room. He opened one eye and peered out. Maisie was sitting at the front door, her big tail thumping with anticipation. She obviously wanted out.

  Harry was standing beside her, looking worried.

  He should get up and let her out, but after a moment’s thought he decided against it. He closed his eyes again. Apart from the couple of outbursts yesterday when the excitement had been too much for him, Harry had retreated to silence, but here was another situation where silence might not work.

  So he lay and waited while the thumping grew increasingly excited. Harry’s indecision was practically vibrating through the bungalow.

  And finally Harry cracked. Jack lay silent as he heard footsteps approach, as a small hand landed on his shoulder.

  ‘Uncle Jack,’ Harry said, and that was a breakthrough all by itself.

  ‘Call me Jack,’ Jack growled, still without opening his eyes. He’d already figured ‘uncle’ was a barrier. ‘Harry, do what Auntie Helen tells you. Harry, go and play with your cousin Alice.’ Titles were a barrier he could do without.

  ‘Jack,’ Harry whispered, and Jack opened his eyes, but sleepily, like there was all the time in the world and it was no big deal that Harry had called him by name.

  ‘Morning,’ he said. ‘Is the sun up?’

  ‘Everyone’s up,’ Harry whispered. ‘Everyone’s on the beach. Maisie wants to go. Should I let her out?’

  ‘Is Kate on the beach?’

  ‘Y-yes.’

  ‘Then let her out but leave the door open so we can watch her. After breakfast we’ll go down and see if Kate wants her. If not, we’ll go down and bring her back.’

  Brilliant. Kate knew what she was doing, leaving Maisie with him for the night. Left to his own devices, Harry would have stayed in bed, and there’d be no way he’d go to the beach unless propelled. But like yesterday, Maisie had done Kate’s propelling for her.

  Back in Sydney Jack had thought of this place disparagingly. It had seemed an alternative therapy of dubious repute. But right here, right now, it looked okay. This wasn’t ‘alternative’. This was working.

  And Harry ate, not a huge amount but enough to keep Jack satisfied, and instead of needing encouragement at every mouthful Harry had obviously decided how much Jack would let him get away with and shovelled it in fast. Dog. Beach. Go.

  Just as Harry gulped the last of his juice Kate arrived, Maisie loping along behind her. She was wearing her stinger suit again. Her hair was twisted into a knot on the top of her head, she had rock sandals on her feet and she looked about as far from a doctor as it was possible to get.

  ‘I thought you might like swim gear,’ she said cheerfully. The suits were probably the most unattractive garments in the planet but she held them out like they were gold. ‘These mean you don’t need to use sunscreen.’

  ‘Are there stingers in the water?’ Jack asked, and then could have bitten his tongue. The last thing he wanted was to scare Harry.

  But Kate was grinning. ‘No. They’re like school uniform, meant to make everyone here equal. Socialists R Us.’ Then, at Harry’s look of confusion, she stooped to talk only to him. Her body language was obvious. Her client was Harry. Jack was just a bystander.

  ‘Later this morning I’d like to take you to meet the dolphins close up,’ she told him. ‘And dolphins don’t like sunscreen. Kids like you go into their pool every day. If everyone had sunscreen on, it’d float off and stick to the dolphins. Then none of them would get a tan and we’d have a whole pod of pure white dolphins. Maybe they’d get freckles, just like me. So we all wear blue suits to stop dolphin freckles.’

  Harry gazed at her in confusion. And then, very slowly, as if something was cracking inside, he managed a wavery smile.

  ‘That’s silly.’

  ‘Yep, I’m always silly,’ she admitted. ‘But, seriously, dolphins don’t like sunscreen; it’s not good for them. Harry, I have two little girls I need to see before I can spend time with you. Dianne and Ross, our play therapists, are playing with a beachball down by the waves. You can join in, or you and your Uncle Jack can build a sandcastle or paddle or swim or do whatever you want.’

  ‘He’s Jack,’ Harry whispered, and it was so low Jack could hardly hear. But he heard, for he was listening like it was the most important message he could hear. ‘He likes us calling him Jack.’

  ‘Of course,’ Kate said, and finally that smile was directed at him. ‘Okay, Jack and Harry, put your swimsuits on and go and have fun. And don’t let Maisie fool you again—Jack.’

  ‘No one’s fooling anyone,’ Jack said, and smiled back at her, and thought what the heck did he mean?

  He didn’t have a clue. All he knew was that he was off to build sandcastles.

  * * *

  On the beach Harry retreated again into silence. That was okay for Jack didn’t need to do anything about it. Maisie had things under control. The big dog sat by Harry’s side for a while, giving him time to get accustomed, and then suddenly she started digging. Harry looked astonished. Maisie dug some more, sand spraying everywhere, then sat on her haunches and looked at Harry. Harry looked back.

  Maisie dug again, sand sprayed everywhere, then she sat on her haunches again and looked at Harry. Harry resisted.

  Maisie dug even more, sand sprayed everywhere, then she sat on her haunches and looked at Harry some more.

  Enough.

  Harry dug.

  Jack hadn’t been aware he’d been holding his breath, but it came out now in a rush. He looked up and one of the therapists was giving him a discreet thumbs-up sign.

  How had they persuaded Maisie to do that? Who knew? But he was profoundly grateful.

  Pressure off, he sat back and watched the whole scene.

  The play beach was distant from the enclosed dolphin pool and Jack could see why. In the distance he could see Kate with a couple and a child. Therapy? He couldn’t tell; they were far enough away to ensure privacy.

  The two therapists on the beach, Dianne and Ross, were working hard but they were like big kids. Dianne was a woman in her forties, Ross was practically a teenager but dressed in their standard-issue blue suits they seemed of an age. They mixed happily wi
th kids and parents, gently encouraging kids to mix and play, but they didn’t push. They made it seem like the most natural thing in the world to join in and have fun.

  But they didn’t push Harry. He was left to his digging. There were a couple of other kids who stayed back, and that was okay, too. A couple of times the beach ball just ‘happened’ to fly in their direction and the therapists swooped to retrieve it, thanking the individual child as if they’d retrieved it themselves.

  No pressure.

  Jack looked around at this motley group of parents and children. Some were overtly injured, scarred, frail. Some must be emotionally injured for there were no outward signs of what was wrong, but he’d seen the application forms. The only kids here were those whose need was strong.

  And for the first time since he’d had the phone call saying his sister was dead, he found himself feeling calm. Helen had been right: this was a good place for Harry to be.

  He could relax. Someone else was doing the worrying for him.

  Harry was digging his way to China.

  The therapists were playing keepings off, swooping off along the beach with a ragtag of children following.

  There was a stir just behind him, a cry. He turned and a woman was struggling to hold a child, a girl about twelve or thirteen.

  She was arching back in her mother’s arms, and her involuntary jerks told Jack she was in mid-convulsion.

  Harry stared. ‘Jack,’ he breathed, and this, too, was amazing. Not only had he registered something was wrong, he was expecting Jack to do something about it.

  Kate was in the water. The therapists were far down the beach, chasing children. With his medical training, Jack certainly needed to do something about it.

  The child was only ten yards away and he reached her fast, kneeling on the sand, automatically starting to check her airway as the woman with her tried to hold her still.

  Toby’s death yesterday was front and foremost in his mind. Another brain tumour? How many seriously ill children did Kate have here?

  But it was no such thing. ‘It’s all right,’ the woman managed. ‘It’s... Susie’s epileptic. She won’t take... I thought she’d taken but she hates...and she hates people seeing.’

  ‘I’m a doctor,’ Jack told her. ‘Let me help.’

  The kid was an almost-teen, Jack thought, automatically taking her from her mother’s arms and shifting her sideways. As an oncologist he treated kids of this age, and he understood their trauma. Sometimes the side effects of their illness seemed more terrible to the kids than the illness itself. Hair loss. Hospitalisation and enforced distance from their peer group. Being seen as different. Different. A fate worse than death for a teenager.

  ‘Put the beach towel down for me,’ he told the woman, and once again got a shock as Harry moved to help. The girl was rigid, arching, breathing noisily and seemingly unaware of her surroundings. If she was indeed epileptic, though, all they needed to do was keep her safe until the convulsion passed.

  He set her down, rolling her onto her side. Then checked his watch. Convulsions always seemed to last for ever. There was no need to worry if it didn’t go past five minutes but, watching a kid convulse, it was very hard to register time.

  ‘My husband’s gone to make a phone call for work,’ the woman sobbed. ‘He’s with the police; they’re always calling him, even though he’s supposed to be here, helping me care. And I don’t know what to do. I never do. I hate these attacks. Don’s better than me with coping. I can’t... Should I call someone? Kate?’

  But Jack had been here before, all too often. His little sister had been epileptic.... Both his parents had hated her attacks. Jack had learned to cope early, and his medical training had reinforced what he’d learned the hard way. The only thing Beth had hated more than her epileptic attacks had been people seeing her having them, and this kid would be no different. He glanced across at Kate and then along the beach to the therapists. Any call would make everyone on the beach aware of what was happening.

  His body was blocking the view for the moment and no one else seemed to have noticed. If they could keep this private...

  ‘I’m sure I can look after her,’ he told Susie’s mum. ‘There’s no problem. Harry, can you give me a hand to shift these two beach shelters so we can get some shade?’

  It wasn’t shade they needed. The beach was only pleasantly warm. But Harry was only too eager to help. They hauled two of the little shelters around so they made a V, the opening looking out to the water. It effectively blocked off anyone along the beach seeing, but it looked like he’d simply hauled two shelters together so two families could chat.

  Then he settled beside her, checked her airway again, checked her pulse, kept watch. And as Harry looked unsure, he tugged him down so the little boy was on his knee.

  ‘This looks a lot scarier than it is,’ he told Harry, and as he talked, Susie’s body lost some of her rigidity. Her mum was stroking her face, making sure her hair was out of her eyes, keeping watch as Jack was doing. The girl’s eyes flickered open and registered her mum.

  ‘I’m Dr Jack,’ Jack told her, pretty sure she couldn’t take it in yet, but he’d reassure her anyway. ‘And no one can see.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Harry breathed.

  ‘It’s called epilepsy,’ Jack said, keeping his voice even and strong, knowing his presence would be reassuring the mother, if not the teen. ‘But it’s okay. Lots of people have it. When you watch television, do you ever notice that occasionally the picture goes fuzzy for a minute or you get funny lines? Only for a minute and then it goes back to normal.’

  ‘Yes,’ Harry said, cautiously.

  ‘Well, that’s what epilepsy is,’ Jack said. ‘It’s like a little electronic signal in Susie’s brain gets the wrong signals. It’s called a tonic-clonic seizure. That’s a long name for something that’s usually very short. Susie’s waking up now. She’ll be back to being herself in no time.’

  They sat on. Susie was gradually returning to normal. He watched as her eyes lost their dazed, faraway look, focussed, cringed.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said, as her focus returned. ‘A momentary hiccup that no one saw.’

  ‘Th-thank you.’ Susie’s mum was still close to tears, but Jack gave her a warning look. The last thing Susie needed now was emotion.

  She was curling into herself, a fragile kid on the edge of womanhood. Her clinging stinger suit showed the faint budding of breasts. Her brown hair was tugged back into a glittery band, and if he wasn’t mistaken she had a touch of make-up on under the sunscreen on her nose.

  He remembered Beth at that age. It hurt to remember her.

  ‘My sister had epilepsy,’ he heard himself say and he hadn’t meant to say it until it came out. ‘Beth.’

  ‘My...my Mum,’ Harry whispered.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘She never looked like Susie looked.’

  ‘That’s because she had control of her medication,’ Jack said. ‘She never missed. Do you remember, Harry, that your mum took pills every breakfast-time?’

  ‘She was old,’ Susie managed. ‘It’d be okay if...I was old.’

  Jack winced. The thought of Beth as old was unthinkable but, then, at thirteen, even twenty probably seemed ancient.

  ‘Beth had epilepsy from when she was a baby,’ Jack said. ‘It wasn’t serious. The only time it was a problem was when she was a teenager and she thought the pills made her gain weight.’

  And Susie stilled. Bingo, Jack thought, glancing at Susie’s mum. Teenagers worrying about body image. Some things were perennial.

  ‘She tried not taking her medication,’ Jack said. ‘That was a disaster. She had seizures at school and the kids saw her and that seemed to make things worse. Finally, though, she figured she might control her weight gain with exercise. She got her black be
lt for karate. After that no one messed with my sister, ever again, and she was beautiful.’

  ‘But...what happened to her?’ Susie seemed wide awake now, aware, even glancing at Harry. ‘Is that...his...mum?’

  ‘Beth was Harry’s mum,’ he agreed. ‘She and Harry’s dad were killed in a car accident. It had nothing to do with her epilepsy, though, Susie—a drunk driver crashed into the family car. Before that...she had a great life. She went to uni, had fun, met a gorgeous boy and married him, had Harry. Nothing stopped her.’

  ‘I don’t...I don’t like karate,’ Susie managed, and Jack had to suppress a smile. Harry’s tragedy, Beth’s death were taking a back seat to Susie’s problems. Of course they were. Could any adolescent be different?

  ‘Sports come in all shapes and sizes,’ he told her. He glanced out at the sea. ‘What about swimming? Do you like swimming with the dolphins?’

  ‘Yeah, but...’ She hesitated, licking her lips, and Jack knew she’d still be struggling with the feeling of coming out of the fog. Her mouth would be thick and dry, she needed fluids, then rest with quiet. But for some reason instinct told him he should go along with this conversation. ‘I wanted to dance,’ she whispered, and he knew he was right.

  ‘So why don’t you?’

  ‘She had an episode at dance class last year,’ her mum said. ‘The girls...weren’t very kind.’

  ‘Ouch. Other girls can be horrid at your age,’ Jack said bluntly. ‘Beth used to complain about them, too. But she never let them stop her. Do you know that one person in every fifty is an epileptic? Two people in every hundred. So I’m willing to bet that some of the most famous dancers in the world are epileptic.’

  ‘They can’t be,’ Susie breathed.

  ‘Want to bet?’ Jack demanded. ‘Tell you what, if I’m wrong I’ll let all the kids bury me up to my neck in sand and leave me there for an hour. But I bet I’m right. I have my computer here, and a printer. I’ll look it up tonight and I’ll have a list of dancers who have epilepsy sitting on your doorstep tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re...silly,’ Susie managed.