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He almost groaned. That’s right. She did. And it was far too close to his at the moment.
To add insult to injury, she then said, ‘Do your legs hurt?’
His lashes lifted only slightly as he glared at her. He forced the words past his teeth. ‘I’m fine, thanks. If you’ll excuse me.’
Marcus closed his eyes and sighed. If the rented flat fiasco hadn’t happened, if the closest hotel hadn’t been solidly booked for a week-long conference, if he didn’t start work on Monday, if, if …
He ground his teeth and then decided it indicated a lack of control. Marcus liked control, relished it, had seen what could happen when it was lost, and he needed control to breathe.
He wasn’t sure how he and his aunt would rub together, but if he remembered correctly from that one Christmas after his sister had died Aunt Maurine had been a safe haven in a sad world.
It would only be a week or two until he found a new flat. He’d buy one if he had to. Control. He rubbed his chin. Hmm. In fact, he liked that idea. Nobody could interfere with his plans then.
Tilly watched him go. Limping. Oops. She’d say that was a fair case of alienation there. Mentally she shrugged. Shame. He’d have made a gorgeous gene pool for Ellie’s future children. Tall, good bone structure, great body, and even related to a delightful old lady. But he had no sense of humour. And that was the most important trait as far as Tilly was concerned.
Not that she was concerned. She frowned at herself. It had nothing to do with her how cleverly amusing Ellie’s children could be.
Tilly went back inside her own house just as her flatmate Ruby arrived behind her, drifting up the stairs with a serene smile and a filmy scarf floating behind her.
‘Hi, there, Tilly.’ Ruby looked her up and down. ‘You not ready? Sunday brunch at the pub?’
‘I’d forgotten.’ She glanced at the old grandfather clock in the corner. ‘Give me ten.’
Twenty minutes later the girls were perched on stools looking out the Stat Bar window at the park full of football-kicking young bloods and the sea beyond. Another glorious blue-sky day in paradise.
Tilly weighed the words in her mind before she said them. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to curb her usual method of blurting stuff out. ‘Mrs B. has a nephew.’
‘Next door? Oh, my goodness, Tilly. That’s so exciting.’ Ellie sat blonde and beautiful and suddenly buoyant on the stool. ‘Is he gorgeous? Does he like you? Would he like me?’
Tilly glanced at Ellie. Blonde, petite, beautiful. Who wouldn’t? ‘Not sure about you but he can’t stand me. I took him out with a garden gnome.’
Three pairs of eyes swivelled to full interest. She certainly had their attention now, Tilly thought ruefully. ‘I had the notion he was breaking into one of the windows at the back of Mrs B.’s. He was actually fixing it.’ Tilly listened to herself, surprised at the glum note she hadn’t expected, and injected more bravado. ‘It was a good throw, though, sideways to the back of the legs.’
There was a stunned silence followed by a howl of amusement from the girls.
‘What did he say?’ From Ruby.
‘Was he hurt?’ From Ellie.
‘What did Mrs Bennett say?’ From Jess, who liked the older lady next door as much as Tilly did.
Tilly pulled the slice of lime out of the neck of her bottle of light beer and sucked it. ‘He swore, he’s got a limp, and Mrs B. got the giggles. So did the police officer who arrived.’
Ruby was impressed. ‘You called the police as well?’
‘I thought he was a burglar.’
‘Very sensible.’ Jess nodded. ‘I doubt a real burglar would be happy with being hit by a gnome.’
‘I’d bet he wasn’t happy. What’s his name, Till?’ Ellie asked, clearly feeling sorry for her future partner.
‘Marcus.’ Tilly could see him in her mind as clear as day. ‘He’s six-four, blue eyes, dark curly hair and built like a brickie’s labourer. Great genes.’
‘Ohhhh.’ Ellie’s eyes shone.
‘You sure you don’t fancy him, Till?’ Ruby was watching with those knowing eyes.
Tilly swallowed the rest of her beer and dropped the lime skin in. ‘Not my type.’
Ruby and Jess exchanged amused glances. Ellie wasn’t included because she was still off in dreamland, populating the world with miniature dark-haired brickies. ‘Sounds like everyone’s type to me,’ Jess said.
‘So how long’s he staying?’ That was Ruby.
‘No idea. Conversation flagged after the police car drove off.’ Tilly looked up and saw the laughter in her friend’s eyes and she had to chuckle. Parts of the encounter had been funny. But the fact that he obviously hated her—would like to see her boiled in oil probably—wasn’t amusing at all.
CHAPTER TWO
MONDAY morning sunshine streamed into the open bedroom window as Marcus towelled his shoulders. As he turned away from the streaky mirror he caught a glimpse of the purple bruises on the backs of his legs.
At least he wasn’t limping today, no thanks to the red-headed witch next door. He hadn’t gone for a run today just to give his legs a chance to heal. But he could have done with one to rid himself of the snatches of nightmares that had included dear Matilda. He didn’t know why she’d made such an impression on him—apart from the physical imprint of assault.
He hung the towel evenly on the rail and walked naked into the bedroom. His aunt had been twinkling at him most of last night because it was all so-o-o funny. And he’d heard enough about Matilda with the legendary handywoman skills to make him dislike her even without the gnome.
But he wasn’t wasting thought on annoyances because today was a big day. His mobile phone beeped twice, an appointment reminder that he had an hour until work, and as usual he was on time.
He’d worked hard for this. Not just the early stuff, sweating over a restaurant stove between uni classes, extra shifts right through his internship, and the study he’d put in for his O&G exams—it was the effort put in to give him the right to make policy changes.
To have a say.
To protect women and babies from idiots and poor out comes and poor practitioners. An oath he’d sworn as a heartbroken child.
Now finally to be the consultant in charge of an obstetric unit, a small one by city standards but one with a brilliant reputation, and he knew exactly how he wanted it run. His mothers and babies would be the safest in Australia.
A snatch of song, a woman’s voice drifting up from the garden below with a soft Irish melody that made the hairs prickle on the back of his neck. He lifted his head. The tune was pure and incredibly seductive and Marcus slung the towel around his hips and leaned out of the window.
His head whipped back in when he saw who it was. St Matilda in a bikini top with a towel around her waist. Long red hair crinkled wet from the sea like a siren’s.
She was like a gnat, buzzing outside his conscious decision not to think about her, and he wanted to swat her. And that delicious backside of hers.
Whoa! Where had that come from? Heat descended to his groin and he backed farther away from the win dow.
He’d been working so hard these past few years he hadn’t had time for anything but brief flings. It was obviously just a physical need he should think about addressing again. Maybe he’d have time soon but certainly not in that neighbourly direction.
Plus she was too young for him. Though he had to admit just then he’d felt younger than he had in a while. He grinned then his leg twinged as he reached for his clothes and he thought of the gnome. Best to avoid the pain.
Two hours later Marcus surveyed his two residents, his registrar, and the MUM, Midwifery Unit Manager, in his new office as he outlined his plans. And it felt good.
They’d had a ward round on each floor, the gynae floor on top and antenatal beds next down with the antenatal clinic. Then the neonatal nursery floor and on the ground the birthing units and theatres.
He’d done a double take when Gina, the midwife in charge, had proudly pointed out the new large baths in the labour ward for pain relief in labour. Apparently they’d been put in from fundraising by one of the new graduate midwives but he hadn’t commented as yet on that. No doubt she’d noticed her announcement hadn’t been greeted with shouts of joy.
‘Diligent observation with strict documentation, a medical officer for each birth if possible, though I do understand sometimes babies come in a rush. But I’d like admission foetal monitoring on all women until the baby’s wellbeing has been proved. Risk assessment on every woman will be an area I’ll scrutinise thoroughly.’
The medical officers all nodded, though Gina didn’t look impressed. Well, tough. The buck stopped with him. ‘Any questions?’
Gina spoke up. ‘This isn’t a training hospital for midwives. My girls are all qualified and very observant, up to date and extremely diligent already.’
‘I’m sure they are.’ But … ‘Not all midwives have the same level of experience.’
Gina wasn’t finished. ‘I thought the studies said admission foetal monitoring increased a woman’s risk of unnecessary intervention?’
He’d heard it before. ‘I’m glad you asked that.’ He knew what could go wrong. ‘I’ve seen the studies but I’m not convinced. I’ll leave some less publicised clinical trials for you to look at.’
When Tilly walked in for the afternoon shift handover there seemed an unusual quietness over the ward. There were a few gloomy faces from the students, the senior midwives were in a huddle with the MUM, and the other new grad, her friend Zoe, who’d almost finished her shift, drifted across.
‘Why so glum?’ Tilly looked at her with raised eyebrows.
‘Dream’s gone,’ Zoe said sadly. ‘Our new broom has arrived and we’re not happy, Tilly. Ward meeting in five.’
Tilly frowned. At least she’d hear the worst instead of imagining it. They’d been so excited about the new consultant, too. With a younger man appointed to the post there’d been great hopes of a shift away from the medical model of over-monitoring and early intervention. How come the basic concept that women were designed to have babies had been lost somewhere in the teaching of new doctors?
Their previous consultant had been old school and a bit dithery, so you could almost understand his reluctance to change, but now it looked like they were worse off.
She followed Zoe into the meeting room. ‘So he’s not young and modern?’
Zoe pulled a face. ‘He’s young, majorly good-looking in a serious way, but not much of a sense of humour.’
Sounded like someone she’d met recently but this was not the time to think of social disasters. This was work and the thought of going backwards into a more medical mode of midwifery sucked big time.
Gina called them together and outlined the new directives. ‘Full electronic monitoring of babies on admission for the moment, please, where possible. And he doesn’t like the idea of the baths, but will tolerate them for pain relief as long as no babies are born in there, until we’ve reassessed the policy.’
Tilly couldn’t believe it. ‘After all our work? What’s to assess? New South Wales Health said, “Make pain relief in water an option.”’
Gina sighed. ‘I hear you, Tilly. Just make sure your women have been well informed, have signed consent, and agree to a land birth before they get in. We don’t want that option of pain relief taken away until we can change his mind about the actual birth.’
That double-sucked. The last thing most women about to give birth wanted was to move, especially out of a warm, buoyant bath into a cool room and a hard bed.
Tilly chewed her lip and as the meeting broke up Gina drew her aside. ‘This probably affects you most, Tilly. I know you put a lot of work into the fundraising. You have the same passion and instincts as your mother and all I can say is go slow.’
Tilly sighed and accepted she’d have to pull back. ‘Doesn’t sound like he’d appreciate Mum’s philosophy.’
Gina smiled. ‘Perhaps not that enlightened yet. We’ll work on him.’
It didn’t occur to Tilly not to grind her teeth. Control was overrated. ‘It’s offensive that we have to work on any body. Back to being handmaidens. We should all be here for the women—including him.’
‘Give him time.’ Gina was always the voice of reason—a woman aware that passion needed nurturing and sometimes steering into less controversial paths. ‘We’ll show him we can provide safety and support as well as an optimal environment. Then he’ll understand.’
The shift passed quietly, two normal births who arrived at the last minute, no time for excessive monitoring or to call for medical help, Tilly thought with satisfaction, and no sight of the new head of obstetrics.
Tilly went home consumed with curiosity and not a little disappointment. She wanted to see this man that had everyone quaking in their boots but she’d just have to wait.
The next morning, like most mornings since she’d moved into Hill Street, Tilly headed for the ocean. She couldn’t help her glance up at the guest-bedroom windows in Mrs B.’s house.
Her dreams last night had been populated by a particular tall, dark and dark haired policeman who seemed to catch her speeding every time she drove onto a particular country road. No doubt there was something deep and meaningful in there somewhere but Tilly had been left with a feeling of anticipation and the wish that she actually owned a car to give her the chance of it coming true. Shame he wasn’t younger than she was and she could try for a fling.
Maybe she should just paint the hallway. And refix the falling picture rail. That would keep her mind where it should be.
As Marcus jogged back up the hill after his run he saw three young women leave the house next door. The annoying one wasn’t with them.
The crash and muffled scream happened as he passed her gate and the repeated swear word, not a bad one in the scheme of things, floated out the window towards him. He sighed.
Obviously she was alive, but his Hippocratic oath demanded he at least check she wasn’t about to do more damage. ‘Hello?’
The swearing stopped.
He called out again. ‘It’s Marcus from next door. Just checking. You all right?’ Marcus tilted his head and listened at her front door, which he could see was unlocked. Typical. Why’d she do that? Didn’t she read the papers? Foolish woman.
‘Um. I’m okay. Thanks.’
She didn’t sound it. In fact, if he wasn’t totally mistaken he had the feeling she was almost in tears. ‘Can I come in?’
He heard the scrape of furniture and a muffled sob. Nothing else for it, he had to check.
‘I’m coming in.’
She was sitting on the floor, the ladder was on its side and the annoying one was sitting beside it with her foot in her hand. He hoped to hell she hadn’t fallen off the ladder.
He crouched down next to her. ‘Matilda, isn’t it?’ As if he didn’t remember. ‘What happened? Did you hit your head?’
‘Hello, Marcus.’ She brushed a long tangled spiral of hair out of her eyes and his hand twitched at the unexpected desire to catch a tendril she’d missed. How did it spring all over like that and still be so soft?
‘No. I wasn’t up the ladder when it fell. But the hammer was. It landed on my toe.’ She bit a decidedly wobbly lip.
He looked away, not because he wanted to gather her up in his arms and comfort her, certainly not. He looked away to professionally assess her injury and saw one already bruising big toe. He glanced at her woebegone face then back at her toe.
Her gaze followed his. ‘It throbs.’
‘I imagine it would. I won’t touch it until you get a bit of relief.’ He glanced around the open room towards a doorway that looked like it led to the kitchen. ‘Do you have any ice?’
She almost smiled and he almost melted. ‘Always.’
He stood up. Quickly. ‘I’ll grab some from the freezer then.’ Marcus stepped around the ladder and righted it before heading for the kitchen. He couldn’t help a little peek around as he went. The house was very tidy.
He guessed that was one thing in her favour, though he supposed it could be any of the girls who had the clean fetish. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to stack up good things in Matilda’s favour and refocussed on the task at hand.
Freezer. He saw the unopened bag of frozen peas and decided it would mould better around her foot. He grabbed a tea towel that was folded on the bench.
When he crouched back down beside her she looked more composed and he mentally sighed with relief. He mightn’t have coped with her tears. ‘I’ve brought the frozen peas. Less square.’
