‘Doctors want big hospitals and specialists on call and private schools and universities on tap for their children,’ Abbey told him. ‘I thought your mother would have drilled into you what an unsuitable place Sapphire Cove is to live. I shouldn’t have to.’
She had. Ryan flinched.
‘But even so, Abbey…’
‘Even so, I can’t afford to work less. I have debts.’
‘John’s debts?’
‘That’s none of your business.’
‘Maybe, but I had a talk to one of your patients this afternoon,’ Ryan told her. ‘Mr Ellis. The local bank manager. He came in with shingles.’
‘Shingles…’ Abbey screwed up her nose, her attention diverted. ‘Oh, no. The poor man. Shingles is so painful. Did you start him on acyclovir?’ She pushed herself up on her pillows. ‘Ryan, it’ll be a new treatment since you trained. You must start him on that in the first twenty-four hours. It really does stop shingles in its tracks-quarters the time of discomfort. If you haven’t been around as a general practitioner for-’
‘I know all about acyclovir,’ Ryan told her, and then smiled at her look of disbelief. ‘Don’t worry. I know I’m out of touch with general practice but I’ve figured a really efficient way of sounding as if I know what I’m talking about while I’m seeing your patients. I’ve hooked up to the Internet. On the Internet I can play doctor-patient in a virtual hospital. All I have to do is type ‘shingles’ and out comes all the latest treatments and references to all the current literature. Excerpts and précis included.’
‘You mean you leave the patient-’
‘I have my lap-top computer on my desk,’ he told her smugly. ‘I tell the patient I’m recording details of their case as I go, and all the time I’m asking what the heck the latest treatment for shingles is. Then I do a fast search of Mims-on compact disc-and I find the drug dosages and brand names and everything I need to make myself sound intelligent.
‘Oh, and by the way.’ He smiled. ‘In case you were worrying, I rang the medical board and they’ve given me emergency registration as an interim measure.’
‘Oh, Ryan… ’ Abbey’s hand flew up to her mouth. ‘I forgot.’
‘Understandable.’ He smiled again, his lazy, caring smile that ran right through her. ‘You’re not well, Abbey. And not just because of the accident. You’ve run yourself into the ground. And Mr Ellis says-’
‘You shouldn’t have been discussing me with my bank manager,’ Abbey said fretfully, and Ryan shook his head.
‘I haven’t been discussing you with anyone. I’ve simply been listening while one patient after another has come in, berated me for knocking you off your bicycle and then told me how worried they are about you. And Mr Ellis has done more than that. He tells me the debts you’re paying off are gambling debts incurred when John was under such pressure he didn’t know what he was doing. He says he’s advised you strongly to declare yourself bankrupt, wipe the slate clean and start again.’
‘How can I do that?’
‘Simple. Find yourself a lawyer and do it. He also said you can’t lose the farm. Your home’s exempt and, with Janet and Jack living there, too, it’s doubly insured. He said you could have stayed living where you were.’
‘And have Jack growing up with people knowing his father owed them money he never repaid,’ Abbey said simply. ‘No, thank you. This is my problem, Ryan, and I’ll thank you to butt out of it.’ She swallowed but the expression on her face of grim determination didn’t waver. ‘Who… who else did you see in clinic?’
And Ryan stared down, baffled. It had seemed so simple when Brian Ellis had explained it to him. Abbey should declare herself bankrupt, get rid of her debts and then find another doctor to take over at least half her workload. And Ryan could walk away with a clear conscience.
Not yet he couldn’t. Not for a month…
But at the end of the month? When his father was recovered from his surgery? Ryan wanted to be able to walk away from here, knowing that his friend’s security was assured. And how could he do that if she was going to be obstinate and proud and stubborn as a mule?
But he didn’t want her any other way.
‘Tell me who else you saw in clinic,’ Abbey insisted, and Ryan blinked. He wasn’t used to this. He was accustomed to being in charge. To people coming to him when they were in trouble and demanding his help. Well, Abbey had accepted his help-albeit grudgingly-for a week, but not after that. And he found himself thinking how impossible it would be to live with himself, knowing he’d left her like this. Burdened with work. Burdened with debt and responsibility.
‘As I said, most cases I found I could handle,’ he told her, forcing his mind back to the patients he’d seen. ‘I had old Angus Harvey with an infection on his penis. Walked in and said-straight-faced, “Doc, there’s a ring round me old bloke and it ain’t lipstick”! That was the hardest part of my day, trying to keep a straight face and treat his infection at the same time…’
‘You sound like you enjoyed it,’ Abbey said wonderingly, and Ryan grinned.
‘To tell you the truth, I did. Oh, and I saw Mrs Miller. She came in to get her ulcer dressed again.’ He shook his head. ‘She must just like doctors, Abbey. The ulcer didn’t need dressing.’
‘Did you ask her what was worrying her?’ Abbey asked anxiously, and Ryan frowned.
‘I told you. She wanted her ulcer dressed.’
‘And I told you, there’s something else troubling Marg Miller.’ Abbey shook her head. ‘Men! You have no intuition at all. It’s not her ulcer she’s worried about. It’s her son. There’s something wrong with Ian. I’m sure of it. Mrs Miller wouldn’t worry like this for herself. He must be in some sort of trouble.’
‘Her son…’ Ryan frowned. ‘Ian Miller. I think I remember him. He’s my age-a bit older.’
‘That’s right. He’s living in Sydney.’
‘And you think he might be ill?’
‘I have no idea,’ Abbey said with asperity. ‘If you’d asked, you might have found out.’
‘Ian’s not my patient.’
‘He’s not mine either. I haven’t seen him for years. But his well-being is affecting my patient and therefore I worry. That’s what a good general practitioner does.’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Ryan said dryly. ‘I’m an orthopaedic surgeon, remember.’ He paused, waiting for comment. Waiting for Abbey to apologise.
No apology was forthcoming.
The silence stretched out to an embarrassing length. Clearly Abbey’s opinion of orthopaedic surgeons-or one orthopedic surgeon in particular-was less than flattering.
‘I’ll telephone her,’ Abbey said at last.
‘No.’ Ryan shook his head. ‘If you really think there’s something happening that’s serious then I’ll telephone and talk to her again.’
‘You wouldn’t consider going out there and talking to her face to face?’
‘Abbey!’ Ryan said explosively. ‘Don’t push me…’
‘I can only try.’ She ventured a teasing grin. ‘And you can only say no.’
‘I’ll go if I have time, but I will telephone,’ Ryan promised, a man driven against the ropes. He sighed. ‘And you might like to know Janet’s agreed for me to replace her hip next Monday. I can organise it by then.’
‘Next…’ Abbey stared. ‘You mean you will do it?’
‘I said I’d do it. Why should you doubt me?’
‘But next Monday…’ Abbey frowned. ‘Ryan, it’s only Monday now. That’s a whole week away. I’ll be back working by then.’
‘No, you won’t,’ Ryan said roughly. ‘There’s been a change in plan. Janet will need at least three weeks before she can think of looking after Jack again. So… you stay home full time and look after Jack for two weeks and I organise help. We need help for me for the next two weeks and then for you when Sam comes home from hospital.’