But for a while there was silence. Morag stared after them as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. Finally she turned and asked the question that was slamming through her mind.

‘Was that you?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Was that chance-or did you play a hand?’

‘I might have,’ he acknowledged, with the hint of a rueful smile.

‘How?’

‘Marcus came here at a run,’ he told her. ‘Apparently William left a note saying what he wanted done with his possessions. It was pinned to his front door. The nextdoor neighbour was curious and took a look. She panicked and gave the note to Marcus.’

‘So Marcus knew William intended suicide. He never let on.’

‘Do you think he should have?’

‘No.’

‘We’re agreed the note blew off in the wind and no one ever saw it,’ Grady told her. ‘Marcus will square it with the neighbour.’

‘And Hazel?’

‘Once Marcus calmed down about William-there wasn’t much either of us could do with the pair of you locked in the tower-he sat down and talked to me about the worst of his concerns. Hazel was top of the list.’

Morag sighed. So many things…so many worries…‘Hazel’s a wonderful old lady,’ she told him. ‘She’s played the church organ for ever. Whenever anyone’s in trouble there’s always been Hazel. We all love her.’

‘Including William?’

‘He might. Our William might just learn to love. He might just figure out there’s different forms of loving and they don’t all have to do with sex. I’ll start him on antidepressants tonight. I guessed a while back that he was depressed but until now he hasn’t let me close.’

Enough. She sat down beside Grady on the stones and turned her face to the setting sun. Her shoulders slumped. She’d been so afraid…

‘This island’s all about loving,’ Grady said softly, and she closed her eyes.

‘It is.’

‘I’ve been talking to May.’

‘She’s another wonderful lady.’

‘This island breeds their women wonderful,’ he murmured, and she grimaced. Then she opened her eyes again. She took a deep breath and faced what was coming.

‘Yeah, right.’ She stared down at her feet, as if her rough walking shoes could provide an answer. ‘What will happen to the islanders?’

‘I’m sure the spirit of the place will go on,’ he said uneasily.

‘What-in five hundred different locations, wherever we’re dispersed?’

‘The tentative plan is to relocate the bulk of the population to Port Shelba,’ he told her. ‘There’s a big migrant centre there that’s not being used. We can take that over as temporary accommodation until permanent housing’s organised. The harbour there is under-utilised. The government would be prepared to give land grants, building grants, fishing licences-basically anything it takes to get families resettled.’

‘You must really want this island evacuated.’

‘They,’ he said heavily. ‘Not me.’

‘You work for them.’

‘I’m just an emergency services doctor, Morag.’

‘You’re a spokesperson for the government.’

‘OK,’ he said, gazing out into the fading light at the greyness of the sea and not at her. ‘You tell me what’s wrong with the plan. It sounds good to me.’

‘It’s terrible.’

‘Why?’

‘We’re islanders,’ she told him. ‘We have our own heritage. Port Shelba’s big. We’d be integrated into the broader population and our sense of community would be lost.’

‘Is that important?’

‘You’ve seen the damage depression can do,’ she told him. ‘Look what just happened here. Depression… You know, I’ve been working on this island for four years now and William’s will be the first antidepressant I’ve prescribed. And that’s only because he’s a relative newcomer and he’s held himself so aloof.’

‘You’ve been lucky.’

He didn’t have a clue, she thought bleakly. Not a clue. ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘I haven’t been lucky. I’ve been part of a community, but you don’t know what that means, do you, Grady Reece? You can’t possibly see how important that is. Without the community Hubert would be dead by now. The community keeps him alive and interested and involved. And what about the Kooris? How is the government planning on resettling them?’

‘They’re not.’ This was the hard part and Grady stared out to sea some more. ‘The Kooris won’t move. We know that. But…maybe they don’t want what’s being offered even now in the way of health services. They’re fiercely independent.’

‘Oh, right.’ Her anger was building to the point where she felt like kicking someone. Kicking Grady? Maybe. ‘So because they’re independent, you’d abandon them completely.’

‘Of course not. We’d make provisions.’ He met her look, her anger meeting his calm, placid response. As if he was really making sense. ‘Morag, if you came to Sydney with me…’

Her breath stopped right there. ‘What?’

‘I love you, Morag,’ he told her, so softly that she had to strain to hear what he was saying. And then he said it again, louder. ‘I love you. I’ve fought against it all this time. Hell, if I knew how much it’d hurt four years back, I’d never have let you walk away.’

There was a deathly silence. ‘You didn’t have a choice,’ she whispered at last, her anger sucked right out of her. ‘You didn’t let me go. I came all by myself.’

‘But you didn’t want to come,’ he told her. ‘Not really. Oh, you had no choice, I accept that. You loved Beth and you love Robbie and you care for this damned community.’ He reached out and gripped her hands, urgently, as if he could somehow impart his message through touch.

‘But, Morag, it’s finished,’ he told her. ‘You’ve done a fine job. A wonderful job. These people…what you’ve built… I’m so proud of you.’

‘Gee, thanks.’

He wasn’t listening. ‘Morag, we could build a life back in Sydney. I know you want to keep up with your medicine. And I’d be blind not to see your commitment to the Koori people. So what I suggest is-’

‘What do you suggest?’

He caught her anger then, and frowned. ‘Don’t you want hear?’

‘Of course I want to hear.’

‘You’d bring Robbie with you,’ he told her. ‘That’s understood. He’s a great kid. He loves you and I’m sure…’ He hesitated a little, but only just. ‘I’m sure that I could be…more than a friend to him. I’m willing to try, Morag. For you.’

Her anger wasn’t dissipating a bit. ‘That’s big of you.’

‘Just listen. Morag… The Kooris…’ He was trying so hard to make her see. She was listening to him and hearing his urgency, knowing that he was trying to make a case but not recognising that her heart was closed. It had to be closed. ‘You could be the remote medical officer for them,’ he told her. ‘There’d be ample funding. With what the government saves in providing the infrastructure for this settlement, they’d be more than happy to spend in employing you. You could fly out here once every couple of weeks and do clinics at need. They’d still be in contact.’

‘Every two weeks?’

‘We think that’s workable.’

‘And if a woman goes into labour? You’d say she should wait two weeks for attention?’

‘She’d have to come to Sydney before she was due.’

‘She wouldn’t.’ She hauled her hands back and stared at him as if he was someone she’d never seen before. Someone she could never, ever understand.

Someone she could never love?

‘Then maybe…’ He hesitated. ‘Morag, the Kooris chose this lifestyle. Maybe the risks come with the territory.’

Love didn’t come into this, she thought bleakly. How could she think about loving this man when he was speaking such nonsense?

‘They didn’t choose this lifestyle,’ she snapped. ‘And now we’ve introduced them to a different one. We-my father and then Beth and now me-have taught them to trust. They bring the worst of their illnesses in their young to me now. The major traumas. And in childbirth, if there’s a need, they come to me now. You’d take that away?’

‘There’s no choice, Morag,’ he said flatly. ‘Do you think you could get political support to rebuild this place?’

‘Not without help.’ She knew that. But that was all she knew.

And what help? She didn’t even know who she needed.

The bleakness in her heart was growing by the minute.

‘You don’t have help,’ he told her. ‘Morag, you’re so alone. It’s crazy.’

‘I’m not alone. I have all these people. Marcus. May. Hazel. Five hundred people who are part of me.’

‘Those people are leaving.’

‘But not the Kooris.’

‘That’s their choice.’

‘And you think I have a choice?’ she whispered. ‘You want me to leave?’

‘Yes,’ he said, sure of his ground in this most important question. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s impossible here. And more…’ He was standing before her now, and he was suddenly closer, his body language urgent. She’d also risen, glaring at him against a backdrop of setting sun. He reached out to take her by the waist but she stepped back.

‘Morag, we’ve lost so much time,’ he said. ‘You’ve given this community four years and they can’t expect any more. It’s time to move on. Time to come back to me. Morag, I love you.’

It needed only this. Grady loved her? Still? And he was offering her a life.

So… She could walk away from her islanders, she thought dully. She could leave right now. She and Robbie could leave this island, go back to the life she thought she’d chosen all those years before.

How could she tell Robbie that they were leaving?

She might not have a choice. If the island truly was evacuated… If his best friend was dead…

But these were her people. If the island was evacuated, how damaged would they be? How much more would they need the doctor they’d leaned on for years? It wasn’t just her. She was part of a dynasty of trust. Her father and then Beth and now her.

Take away their homes? Take her away as well?

No. She couldn’t leave them.