Children's Doctor, Meant-To-Be Wife

‘No!’ she whispered, but she doubted whether the men heard her, Charles asking questions, Angus answering, Charles talking practicalities—how to enforce a quarantine, important people here for the opening who wouldn’t like it, Health Department and Australian Quarantine Service concerns—

‘It has to be complete and it has to start now!’ Angus said in a voice Beth recognised as brooking no opposition. This was the focus Angus always brought to his work. ‘It would be criminal of us to allow even one person who could be carrying a deadly virus to leave the island. And we’ll have to get the police and health authorities to trace anyone who has left in the past week and to isolate those people as well.’

‘That won’t be hard. Most people here this week stayed on for the opening of the medical centre, and resort guests are usually here for a week, Sunday to Sunday. There’ll be guests due to go today but not until later in the day. The helicopter pilots who do the passenger runs each day—they come and go more than anyone but rarely get out of their machines. Their manifests will tell us who’s left so we’ll have a list to give the authorities on the mainland.’

The two men had turned away, intent on putting their quarantine order in place, as well they might be. It was going to be a complicated task, and more than a few people were going to be very annoyed about it.

Beth smiled to herself. Alex Vavunis, the self-important paediatric neurosurgeon, for one. He’d made life uncomfortable for several people, simply because he’d been upset to find his daughter, Stella, was growing up. Although being forced to stay longer might give him more time to spend with his daughter and to accept the new Stella—so good could come from bad.

And Nick Devlin, who’d stayed on longer than he’d intended already because his little boy, Josh, was enjoying the camp so much. But Josh was a brittle asthmatic and a lung infection of any kind could have serious consequences. Beth shivered at the thought of Josh picking up the infection, then felt a momentary pang of sympathy for Angus. He was the epidemiologist—he’d be the one coping with the fallout of the announcement.

Although Angus could handle that—work-related problems would never faze Angus. Only emotions could do that…

‘We’re definitely closing the island. Charles has been on to the quarantine people and the head of the state health department and she agrees it’s the way to go in the short term but she doesn’t want to go public with it and start a panic about a pandemic. Containing everyone on the island might help to keep the news off the front pages.’

Angus returned to Robbie’s room alone, explaining this to her while standing in the doorway, his eyes taking in the small ward, and the child now lying quietly, seeming even smaller than he probably was because of the big hospital beds.

‘In this day of e-mails and mobile phones, do you really think the news can be contained?’ Beth asked. ‘Besides, there were reporters and photographers here for the opening and though some went back on the last boat last night, I’m sure the local gossip columnist stayed on. Apparently she loves mixing with the rich and famous and the opportunity to spend time at the resort was too much for her to resist.’

Angus studied her for a moment and Beth could almost hear his brain working.

‘Perhaps if we don’t mention birds, just talk about a virus of unknown origin that has spread quickly, it might attract less interest from the press.’

‘It won’t work,’ Beth told him. ‘Most of the people on this side of the island know about the dead birds. And on top of that, you’ll have to tell people to stay away from dead birds—maybe all birds—and the moment you say that, then the words “bird flu” will ricochet through everyone’s mind.’

‘You’re right. We’ll just have to ask them to keep quiet about it—maybe someone will have to speak directly to the local columnist. Explain we don’t want to start a nationwide panic.’

‘Or maybe we’ll get lucky and some film star or other celebrity will do something dreadful that grabs the headlines and the quarantine of the island will go unnoticed,’ Beth suggested, and Angus shrugged.

‘Could we be that lucky?’ he said, then he smiled and Beth felt a surge of emotion in her chest—a too-familiar reaction to an Angus smile. And just when she’d been doing so well—playing the part of the mature professional to perfection, though being in the vicinity of Angus was reminding her nerve endings of how good things had once been.

Physically…

‘Charles tells me you’re off duty, but he wants all available hospital staff, as well as hotel personnel, park rangers and eco-lodge management people, at a meeting in the lecture theatre at the convention centre at the hotel. Can you drive me back there?’

Beth hesitated, desperately seeking an excuse to say no. Even before the surge she’d known that the less time she spent with Angus the better off she’d be. But she’d asked for his help…

He’d come right into the room now, and stood beside her, looking down at Robbie, who was sleeping more peacefully now.

‘You go, I’ll keep a special eye on him.’

Grace must have followed Angus in, for there she was, flapping her hands at Beth as if shooing chooks.

She had no choice, standing up slowly, careful not to look at Angus, though every cell in her body was aware of his presence.

‘Do you think it is bird flu?’ she asked, and didn’t need to hear Angus sigh to know what a stupid question it had been. ‘Of course you don’t know,’ she answered for him. ‘It’s just that it’s been in the forefront of my mind all night. H5N1, a seemingly innocuous grouping of letters and numbers, yet with the ability to make anyone who understands them very anxious.’

‘From doctors up to heads of governments,’ Angus confirmed, his voice deep with the gravity of the situation. ‘But what we can’t do is panic—or even become overly dramatic about it. There’s a set routine for any disease outbreak—identify its existence, which we do by seeing how many people are affected—’

‘Five in hospital, three segregated in the camp, and who knows how many who haven’t sought medical attention.’

‘Enough to cause concern in a relatively small population,’ Angus agreed as they reached the cart Beth had used earlier. ‘The next step is to verify the diagnosis.’

He sounded worried and she looked at him and saw the frown between his eyebrows once again.

‘Problems with that?’

‘Of course,’ he said, climbing into the driving seat without consultation, but this was hardly the time to be arguing over who should drive. ‘There is now a fast and definitive test for H5N1, a gene chip known as the MChip, but it’s only been used in laboratories in the US. Out here we still use the FluChip, which is based on three influenza genes. It provides information about the type of virus but the lab then needs to run more tests to get the virus subtype—to identify H5N1, for example.’

‘Clear as mud!’ Beth muttered, although in the past she’d always enjoyed the way Angus had discussed his thoughts and explained things to her.

Or was it because of that past enjoyment—and the risk of enjoying it now—that she was feeling so narky?

‘I’m saying tests take time,’ Angus added, turning towards her so she saw his frown had deepened.

‘I know,’ she admitted. ‘I must be more tired than I realised. Have you and Charles talked further than quarantine?’

Was she interested or just making conversation? Angus wondered.

Once, he’d have known—once, he’d have been sure it was interest, because that was Beth, always keen to learn.

Or had she been?

Had her interest been feigned because she’d known how much he’d enjoyed talking over his work with her? Discussing her work, too, until she’d taken maternity leave, then, with Bobby’s diagnosis of cerebral palsy, hadn’t worked after that, staying home to care for their fragile, crippled little son.

While he had lost himself in work, trying to dispel the fear love brought with it by focussing on genetic mutations of the flu virus—or had it been HIV at that stage? He could no longer remember, just knew he’d used work to escape the pain of seeing Bobby fight for every breath he’d taken.

Not all the time, not when Bobby had been well, and laughing with glee at silly things—but often enough, when things had got too tough…

He pushed the memories away—though not too far away—and turned to Beth.

‘Was it hard, getting back into the swing of things at work?’

The question followed so closely on his thoughts he was surprised when she looked startled.

And puzzled.

‘I was back at work before we parted, Angus,’ she reminded him, and he had to smile, though it wasn’t a joyous expression.

‘You were putting on sensible working clothes and going to the hospital, and no doubt doing a very efficient job, but it was something to do, somewhere to go, somewhere to escape the emptiness—not something to enjoy or feel involved in.’

He stopped the cart and was about to get out, when he realised she hadn’t answered him—not only hadn’t answered, but was sitting staring at him as if he’d suddenly morphed into an alien.

‘How do you know that?’ she demanded, so obviously puzzled he felt pain shaft through him—pain that they could have lived such separate lives, that they had lost each other so completely in the thick emotional fog that had descended after Bobby’s death.

Anger rescued him, blazing along the path the pain had seared.

‘Do you think I didn’t do the same? Didn’t feel pushed so far off track by Bobby’s loss that I wondered if I’d ever find my way back again?’

His anger eased as he watched the colour fade from her face and saw her ashen lips move.

‘You never said,’ she whispered. ‘You never said…’

‘We never talked it through, did we?’ He spoke more gently now, shocked that she’d lost colour so easily. ‘Not about the things that mattered. I don’t suppose that’s surprising, given we were two people who had grown up not talking about emotions.’

He reached out and touched her cheek.

‘That made it very hard.’

He walked away before she could respond. Beth’s eyes were on his broad back as she followed him towards the hotel building. He was there for a conference, he would know where the convention area was, and the lecture theatre.

But her thoughts were far from the upcoming meeting.

How could she not have known how he’d felt?

He’d loved Bobby—she’d known that much—and had grieved after his death, but that Angus had been as lost as she had been, that was the revelation.

‘You never said,’ she whispered again, this time to herself, but even as she said it, she realised how stupid it was to be surprised. Angus was right. They had never talked about their emotions. After meeting Angus’s father, the only family he had, she had understood why he couldn’t. His father was an academic and conversation in the Stuart family ranged over many and varied topics—scientific, political, even religious, but never, ever emotional.

In fact, going to visit had always been an ordeal for Beth as the cool—no, cold—atmosphere of the house and her detached, unemotional father-in-law had intimidated her to such an extent she’d rarely said a word, while taking Bobby for a visit had always made her feel inadequate. Dr Stuart Senior had produced one perfect child, Angus, while Beth had produced one small boy, who through an accidental loss of oxygen to his brain during his birth, had been, in the eyes of those who hadn’t known and loved him, less than perfect.

Angus had stopped by the steps leading into the hotel and she caught up with him, looking up into his face, wanting to apologise, though for exactly what—not knowing how he’d felt, Bobby’s birth trauma, getting pregnant in the first place—she wasn’t certain.

Not that she could have apologised anyway. The look on his face was enough to freeze any words she might have said—freeze them on her tongue.

‘This way.’

Her heart ached at his remoteness, which was stupid considering they’d been apart for three long years. Why wouldn’t he be remote?

And wasn’t remote part of Angus anyway? He might have been one of the best-looking men in the hospital—not to mention one of the sexiest—but one look from his eyes, one tilt of his head, and even the most desperate of women would back away.

Which, of course, had been part of his allure to every single woman on the staff, and probably a lot of the married ones as well…

Angus led the way through the lobby towards the wing that housed the convention area. He and Beth had been together less than an hour and already he—or they—had managed to put up impenetrable barriers between them.

Yet seeing her had thawed parts of him he’d thought frozen for all time…

Seeing her had heated other parts of him—parts the beautiful Sally had barely stirred…

How could it be? He looked down at the shiny hair capping Beth’s head, feeling a certain contentment just to be near her, yet not understanding why he should feel that way.

Familiarity, that’s all it was, he tried to tell himself, but he didn’t believe it for a minute.

No, there was chemistry between himself and Beth he’d never understood, no matter how hard or how often, in the past, he’d tried to analyse it. And it was probably, if he was honest, his inability to analyse it—to dissect it, understand it and so rationalise it—that had led to him allowing Beth to push him away when Bobby had died.

He’d told himself she was like a drug that wasn’t good for him—that was the closest he could come to an explanation. And though he’d craved the drug, he’d gone, separated from her, telling himself it was for the best, pretending to himself he was doing it for Beth because she wanted it that way, losing himself and his grief in work…

‘The lecture theatre’s through here,’ he said, touching her arm to guide her through a door at the end of the passage, touching her skin, Beth’s skin…

Charles beckoned them forward, indicating seats at the front of the hall, taking his place behind a lectern, waiting for latecomers to find somewhere to sit, waiting for silence before telling all those assembled that the island was now in quarantine.

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