‘Janet will hate it.’
‘She was upset,’ Ryan admitted, ‘but I told her your health was at stake. I gave her the same lecture about giving and receiving as I gave you and she’s content.’
‘She’d never agree…’
‘She has.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
But Ryan wasn’t listening. He’d picked up the bedside phone and was dialling. ‘Let her tell you herself. Don’t believe me, oh ye of little faith. Talk to Janet.’
And thirty seconds later Abbey replaced the receiver and stared up at Ryan, totally bewildered.
‘I don’t know how you did that.’
‘Pure charm.’ Ryan smiled his most enigmatic smile and pointed to Abbey’s breakfast. ‘Now eat.’ He hauled a chair up and sat himself down-a man at ease with his world. ‘There are things I need help with now, Abbey. Just keep eating while I fire questions.’
‘Like?’
‘I’m not asking anything while you’re not eating.’
‘OK. OK. I’m eating.’ Abbey shoved a mouthful of egg home and frowned. ‘I don’t understand any of this. You can’t just organise my life.’
‘It’s not your life now,’ Ryan pointed out. ‘We made a bargain. I drove too fast, I hurt your leg and I’m paying. You’re on my honeymoon. I’m on your duties. You…’
But Abbey was no longer listening. Another anxiety had just crowded in. ‘Ryan, how’s Sam? How’s your father?’ It was a fast change of tack but it was the way Abbey’s mind was working. Leapfrogging from one worry to another.
‘Dad’s OK.’ Ryan’s air of a man in charge slipped a little. ‘I have the feeling what happened last night was crescendo angina, rather than a full-blown heart attack, as he’s settled fast, but the damage that’s already been done… Well, I wish I could say he’s fine but he’s holding his own.’
‘He needs by-pass surgery, and he needs it now.’
‘He won’t go. I pushed it this morning-’
‘How long have you been up?’ Abbey demanded, off on another track, and Ryan shrugged.
‘Since five. I gave our jellyfish victim more morphine at five. The pain takes a long time to wear off from those damned things. After that it was hardly worth going back to bed. My father was awake so we talked.’
‘About by-passes?’
‘That and other things. He won’t do it.’
Abbey nodded. ‘I told you, Ryan. He wants to die.’
‘That’s crazy.’
‘It’s not crazy. Think about it. All he has is a son who hasn’t been near him for seventeen years.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake… ’
Abbey shook her head as she saw the rigid look on Ryan’s face. ‘OK. I know. This is none of my business. Apart from your father, tell me what else you need help with.’
Ryan’s set look eased a little. ‘Did I say needed help?’
‘Yes, you did and it floored me,’ Abbey said bluntly. ‘The great Ryan Henry, needing help!’
Ryan’s anger gave way to bewilderment at the sudden laughter in Abbey’s eyes. If there was one thing he was unaccustomed to, it was being teased. He shook his head. ‘Abbey, for some reason… Am I wrong, or am I getting the impression that you think I’m an autocratic, selfopinionated-’
‘Yep. All of the above.’
‘I’m not.’
‘No? I suppose you’re a really thoughtful, considerate human being.’
‘I might be.’
‘Well, if you’re so thoughtful, you didn’t by any chance…’ Abbey cast him a hopeful look ‘… bring me some clothes when you went out to see Janet?’
‘Nope.’
‘There you are, then. Autocratic, unfeeling, inconsiderate…’
Ryan sighed. He and Abbey seemed destined to spend the morning sparring. ‘OK, Abbey. Enough. Just fill me in on a few histories here. I need a verbal changeover. Your patient notes are nigh on unintelligible.’
‘I guess that’s because I’m the only one who ever reads them,’ Abbey admitted contritely. ‘I’m not used to handing over. Tell you what. Find me some clothes and I’ll do a ward round with you and hand over personally.’
‘You’re not getting dressed. And you’re not going anywhere.’
‘Ryan…’
‘No.’
‘What if I stay in a wheelchair?’ Abbey said meekly. ‘And promise to act subservient all the time.’
‘Abbey…’
‘Please?’ She smiled, and her smile lit up her eyes. It really was the loveliest smile.
Ryan caved in. He always had.
He stared down at her, baulked and baffled, and then he sighed. ‘OK, Abbey. Ten minutes. I’ll bring a wheelchair and a dressing-gown back here in ten minutes but if you haven’t eaten every scrap of your breakfast you’re not going anywhere.’
‘Yes, sir!’
Sapphire Cove Bush Nursing Hospital boasted fifteen beds, twelve of which were full. Four of those were nursing home patients, which left eight acute cases to discuss. All eight patients were agog to see their accustomed doctor being pushed around in a wheelchair, her bandaged leg stuck straight out before her on a support board-and being propelled by a man many of them vaguely recognised from almost twenty years ago.
‘Ryan Henry…’ Old Mr Thomlinson gave a wheezy chuckle and held out his hand in greeting. ‘Well, well. Back in your old partnership, I see.’
‘Partnership?’
‘You and Abbey.’ Bert Thomlinson looked from Ryan down to Abbey and grinned at the memory. ‘Caught the pair of you swimming out to the reef and pinching crayfish from my traps when you were about twelve and eight years old apiece. Like two little fish, you were, diving down and hauling crays out of the trap. You were letting the little ones go, you told me, and gave me a lecture on catching babies.’ He chortled. ‘At the time I felt like tanning the hides of the pair of you, but you know what? I’ve never kept an undersized lobster since.’ He broke into a fit of coughing and Abbey clucked reproof.
‘That’s what you get for telling tales out of school, Bert Thomlinson.’ She looked up at Ryan. ‘Bert’s recovering from two nasty patches of pneumonia affecting both lungs. Caught, no doubt, from going fishing late at night and not getting out of wet clothes. And I don’t believe you’ve reformed, Bert. I’ll bet you were still catching undersized crays.’
‘I never would,’ Bert said, wounded. ‘The look of you back then, Abbey… No higher than my waist, standing there with your fingers all bloody from getting nipped and making me sound like a child murderer for catching baby crays. And young Ryan standing in front of you, ready to defend you to the death…’ He fell back on his pillows and smiled. ‘Well, it does me good to see the pair of you back together again, even if it took a busted leg to do it.’
That was pretty much the opinion of the entire older population of the hospital. Ryan found he was recognised with real pleasure, and he also discovered that he liked the sensation. Very much.
The best greeting, though, was from his father. Ryan only had to walk into his father’s room for the old man’s eyes to light up with delight.
Double delight when he saw Abbey.
‘How’s the leg?’ Sam demanded, reaching out and gripping Ryan’s hand between his attached tubes. Abbey saw the gesture with resignation. Did Ryan really not realise how much his father loved him? Did he really not realise that Sam needed a lot more than duty letters from his beloved son?
‘Better than your heart. Sam, you have to get this by-pass,’ Abbey said bluntly.
‘So Ryan says. But there’s no have to about it. It’s my heart. I can do what I like with it.’