‘No.’ Anger flashed out then. ‘Not because he felt sorry for me. No way. It was a last gesture to get at me. He knew I’d come. Because of my mother’s distress and because her friends here were in such trouble, he knew the idea of setting up a nursing home would be irresistible. But he and his nephews after him have made sure that I haven’t a cent other than what was put into the terms of the will.’
‘He’s left you nothing else?’
‘He’s left barely enough to cover the running costs of the home-though we do get government subsidies now and it’s improving. But still… I’m allowed to take out my nurse-manager salary and that’s it. Even that often has to be ploughed back to make up shortfalls. The nephews removed the furniture-everything that wasn’t nailed down. Their plan is to make me as uncomfortable as possible so I’ll leave, because if I go before the ten years is up they’ll have the lot.’
‘And how many of your ten years have gone?’
‘Four.’
‘Six years to go?’
‘Six years of purgatory,’ she said-lightly, but he knew it was just that.
‘Is there any relief?’
‘I… Yes.’ Amy sighed and then managed a smile. ‘Oh, of course there is. Heck, in six years’ time I’ll be fabulously wealthy.’
‘Is that why you’re doing it?’ Somehow he didn’t think it could be, and her answer was no surprise.
‘No.’ Her response was fierce. ‘I’d walk away if I could, but the covenants he’s put on this place are unbelievable. People like your stepmother moved here in all faith but they found they’ve done their money cold. There’s nothing here for them. The nursing home is their only hope for future support.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Talk to the lawyers,’ she said wearily. ‘They’ll tell you. The place is a disaster and if I walk away there’ll be three or four hundred couples who’ll have to walk away with me. They’ll lose everything they own.’
‘As bad as that?’
‘As bad as that.’
Silence. Then: ‘Do you have any support at all?’
She caught herself then. ‘I… Of course I do. There’s Malcolm.’
‘Malcolm?’
‘My fiancé.’
Her fiancé.
Of course. There had to be a fiancé. For the first time he concentrated on her hands and there it was, a diamond solitaire, declaring to the world that she was taken.
Well. That was fine. Wasn’t it?
Of course it was. There was no reason in the world for his gut to wrench.
But she’d risen and was laying her coffee-mug on the sink, intent on the next thing. ‘I need to go.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. I’ll call you if I need you.’
‘Did you come home just to offload me?’ he asked, and she grinned.
‘Of course. Why else would I come home in the middle of the day?’
‘Because you’re off duty?’
‘There is that. But I have paperwork to do, and I really would like to be there for our new mum.’
‘You’ll ring me the minute you’re worried?’
‘The minute I’m worried I’ll be here in my wreckage-mobile to cart you back to the hospital so fast you can’t blink.’
‘Wreckage-mobile permitting?’
‘Wreckage-mobile permitting.’
‘You realise if you leave then I’m stuck?’
Amy thought about that. ‘Do you want me to drop you off at your father’s?’
‘No!’
‘There you go, then.’ She smiled. ‘A willing captive. My very favourite sort.’
Humph.
Willing captive or not, as soon as she left that was how Joss did feel. Trapped.
He explored the house-sort of-but a proper tour could take days. He figured out which bedroom Amy used. That’d be the room with blankets on the single bed and one ancient and overflowing dresser.
Then he figured out his bedroom-the one with the single bedstead and nothing else-though surprisingly there were blankets and linen folded at the end. It seemed as if Amy did have guests.
Guest, he corrected himself. One guest and one guest only sometimes. Not often.
‘So where’s this Malcolm?’ he asked, and was surprised to hear the note of anger in his voice.
But there were no answers.
Bertram was loping along by his side and he apologised in advance for the sleeping arrangements. ‘This is a single bed,’ he told his dog. ‘That means me. On my own. No bed-sharing with you!’
The dog looked at him mournfully and Joss folded his ears back. In truth he liked the dog sleeping with him as much as Bertram liked obliging.
Sleeping by himself was the pits.
‘Can you tell me where this fiancé comes in?’ he asked of Bertram, and Bertram cocked a head to one side as if thinking about it. ‘Yeah, like me, you don’t understand. If he’s such a hero, why doesn’t he loan her some furniture? If she was my girl…’
Now that was not a thought worth pursuing.
Damn, what was he going to do with himself? Isolation was all very well, but…
He needed things. Like a razor. Like a spare shirt. He thought about his belongings. They’d been in the trunk of his car and the trunk had been mangled into the steering-wheel. Any razor would be matchsticks.
His laptop had been sitting on the floor of the front passenger seat. Maybe it was OK. Please…
He could ring the police sergeant and find out if anything was salvageable. Jeff would probably still be out at the wreck, clearing debris and making the roadblocks safe.
But he’d quite like to return to the hospital. Charlotte’s head injury was a worry. In her condition, not to have a doctor on standby seemed downright dangerous.
There was only one solution.
Sighing, he lifted his phone from his belt and called his father.
‘So tell me about Amy Freye.’
He was still sitting at Amy’s kitchen table while his father and his father’s new wife clucked their concern about his accident and stared around them with open-mouthed astonishment. It seemed they’d never been in Amy’s home and they were stunned. ‘No, Daisy, I don’t want another cup of tea. I want some gossip.’
But he wouldn’t get gossip from this pair. He’d get nothing but praise.
‘Amy’s wonderful,’ Daisy declared. ‘She’s saved this town single-handed.’
‘Explain.’
And he got the story again-the same story Amy had told him, embellished with gratitude.
‘The old man robbed us blind,’ Daisy told him, easy tears appearing in her eyes at the memory. ‘We-my late husband and I-moved here because we were stupid, and as soon as we bought we were stuck fast. Oh, we thought it was fantastic when we first arrived but then John got sick and there was nothing. Not even a pharmacy. I spent my life on the road between here and Bowra, and then when John got worse he had to go into the Bowra Nursing Home. I figured that I’d have to sell-but people had woken up by then that there was never going to be any commercial development.’
‘No commercial development at all?’
‘No.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘There’s one general store and a post office-that’s it. During the height of the season there’s supplies from Sydney delivered to the millionaires, but that style of shopping is out of the range of ordinary people like us. The wealthy like their isolation but for us…it’s the pits. So I was stuck. I couldn’t get a buyer at half the price we paid. Then John died. And fortunately so did Amy’s stepfather. Then Amy arrived and it’s all different.’
‘How is it different?’
‘Every way you can think of,’ Daisy said roundly. ‘She’s built the home but she’s done so much more. She runs meals on wheels to take decent dinners to the old folk stuck at home. She runs shopping rosters so we’re not always in the car to Bowra. The nursing home’s set up so the Bowra doctor can visit and do minor procedures here. She’s organised pharmacy supplies so we can get urgent medicine. Everything. Half the people in Iluka are still in their homes today because of Amy.’