Her glower deepened. She took the parcels from his arms and marched up the stairs without looking back. ‘Come on, guys,’ she said to Jekyll and Hyde. ‘Your master’s being thick. Come help me cook while we wait for him to come to his senses. I hope he’s brought some for you, too.’

She didn’t speak to him again. She marched over to her cooker and busied herself hauling out pans and toaster and plates, then started to cook bacon-of which there was an entirely satisfactory amount. She was aware of him watching her in silence, as if he didn’t have a clue what she was.

Great. She had him nicely off balance. That was how it should be, and long might it last. The fact that she was thoroughly disconcerted as well had to be ignored.

‘I looked at the Medical Board web-site,’ he told her at last. ‘At six this morning.’

She focussed on her bacon. ‘Gee,’ she said dryly. ‘How fascinating. I thought about it. At six a.m. I remember thinking, Will I wake up and look on the Medical Board web-site? Or will I sleep for another couple of hours? Hard choice.’

She knew he still wasn’t smiling. But there was no way she was looking.

‘You’re listed as a doctor.’

She sighed. ‘How about that?’

‘You’re registered.’

‘Most doctors are.’

‘Your qualifications are on the site. When I found your name, I rang a friend who organises the internships from your university. He said not only did you do brilliantly at university, you’ve also done the first part of obstetric training. You passed with flying colours.’

‘My, you have been busy. Did your friend thank you for ringing him at six a.m.?’

‘Ally, will you look at me?’

‘I’m cooking bacon.’

There was an exasperated sigh. ‘For heaven’s sake…’

‘For heaven’s sake what?’

‘If you’re a qualified doctor with brilliant obstetric training, what the hell are you doing in a dump like this?’

Then she turned. She stood with her back to the stove and surveyed what he would be seeing. Her little apartment consisted of one room. The floor was bare linoleum, with a few cracks and holes. A mattress on the floor was her bed. She hadn’t pulled up the blankets. Unmade bed was bad, she thought ruefully. Never entertain visitors with an unmade bed. But, then, he had brought breakfast.

What else? She had a folding table, one upright chair and one ancient squishy chair hauled over to the window so she could read in good light. There was a dingy little bathroom leading off at the back and that was all.

Home.

But this room was a means to an end. Eventually it’d be another massage area. If things worked out.

Meanwhile… ‘Are you saying my apartment is a dump?’ she asked, her voice dangerous. ‘Or is it this town you’re describing? Either way you’re out of line.’

He shook his head in disbelief. ‘What on earth have you done with your salary for the last six years? And why aren’t you practising as a doctor?’

The dogs were nosing around her ankles. She bent and hugged them, buying herself time to consider.

‘I spend my money on wild living,’ she said at last. ‘And what I do is my choice.’

‘My friend, Steven, said you were top of your year. He said you’re one of the best doctors he ever trained. And there’s no blemish against you. No lawsuit.’

‘Oh, of course,’ she said cordially. ‘Go straight to the obvious. That I must have been drummed out of medicine with a lawsuit.’

‘I didn’t think that,’ he told her. ‘Last night Paul said you were the best doctor he’s ever seen. Marilyn owes her life to you.’

‘How is she?’ Ally was still hugging dogs but her voice was suddenly anxious. In truth, she’d hated leaving last night. It had been panic that had driven her away. She hadn’t been ready to face questions that she still wasn’t ready to face now. But Marilyn…

‘She’s good. No, she’s great. We’ve organised an air ambulance to take her to Melbourne at midday. Her daughter, Sue, is driving here now to accompany her. With the bypass surgery she’s finally agreed to, her prognosis is excellent. Thanks to you.’

‘G-good.’ She continued to concentrate on the dogs. ‘And Kevin?’

‘Kevin has a really bruised throat but he’ll survive. I have him on oxygen and sedatives. He’s going to take a lot of counselling.’

‘They all will.’ She hesitated but she needed to ask. ‘And the kids?’

‘I think Jody’s turned the corner. She sat up this morning and drank a little lemonade. And the other two are fine. I’ve let their mothers take them back to the refuge.’

‘Good.’ She faltered. ‘Great.’

‘The bacon’s burning.’

She looked up at him then, her eyes meeting his. Locking.

It was a strange moment. A harsh moment. The dogs were nuzzling her, investigating her jeans and her shoes, and her hands were fondling their ears. But she was caught. By Darcy. He was staring down at her as if he was seeing something he’d never seen before-and she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

The bacon spat, a great hissing splat that had the dogs looking up in hopeful expectation of a rasher zooming downward. It broke the moment, but still… As she rose to attend to her cooking, he reached forward to turn the gas ring down and she brushed his body and…

And nothing, she told herself fiercely. And nothing at all. How could brushing against someone cause something that was almost an electric jolt?

This was ridiculous.

‘How many eggs?’ she asked, a trifle breathlessly, and somehow she regrouped and forced her voice into neutral. ‘I’m…I’m having two.’

‘Of course you are,’ he agreed, taking the egg container. Their fingers brushed. Damn, there it went again. That frisson of inexplicable sensation. ‘I’ll do that. You need to put the crumpets in the toaster.’

‘I know.’ She turned away with relief. What on earth was happening?

Concentrate on breakfast.

She waited until the crumpets popped up, buttered them, placed them on plates and turned to let him load them with eggs and bacon.

Still that tension.

‘Did Jerry starve you?’ he asked curiously, and she gave him a reluctant smile.

‘Jerry hasn’t been in the position of being able to do anything to me for seventeen years.’

‘So you starve yourself?’

‘No,’ she told him.

‘Then why isn’t your fridge full?’

‘I have other things to do with my money.’

‘Other things than eat?’

‘Leave it alone.’ She took her plate and stalked across to the armchair by the window, and the dogs came to sit adoringly at her feet. ‘Ask your master for some, guys,’ she told them. She turned to their master. ‘You can have the chair and the table.’

‘Gee, thanks.’

‘It’s the least I can do when someone brings me my breakfast.’ Then she addressed herself to her food, studiously not looking at him. She had no idea why he had the effect on her that he did. She didn’t understand and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to.

Darcy loaded his own plate. He looked across at her for a long moment but she kept right on eating. Regardless. Finally he did, too.

The silence continued. Then he set his plate aside. ‘Ally?’

‘Yes?’

Mistake. She shouldn’t have given him an opening, she thought. But she had and he took it.

‘Ally, I need to know-’

‘You need to know nothing.’

‘You’re a qualified doctor.’

‘See, you know already.’

‘But I need-’

‘What?’ She flashed him an irritated glance. ‘What do you need?’

‘Help,’ he said flatly. ‘You know that. This place is impossible for one doctor.’

‘My grandfather managed it. You can manage it.’

‘The population around here is ten times what it was when your grandfather worked here. I can’t cope. People die because I can’t be everywhere at once.’

She glared at that. ‘Don’t blackmail me.’

‘I’m not blackmailing you. But I need to understand-’

‘You don’t need to understand anything. I’m not a doctor.’

‘Then why are you paying registration fees?’

Good question. She bit her lip. That was the final step, but until now…

It wasn’t going to make a difference, she told herself miserably. She’d gone through it. She’d made her decision. Whatever she did could make no difference now.

‘Look, Darcy, breakfast was great,’ she told him. ‘But yesterday I had no business to interfere with Marilyn.’

‘You saved her life.’

‘Yeah, and it felt good,’ she admitted. ‘So I can’t say I’m sorry. But I don’t want any part of it. Not any more. I’m no longer a doctor.’

‘You are.’

‘I’m not,’ she said flatly.

‘Why on earth not?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘If I can just use you for back-up-’

‘You can’t.’ She shrugged. ‘This is stupid. I’m not a practising doctor any more. I’m a massage therapist. If someone stopped being a train driver and started being a florist, no one would ask them to do a little train driving on the side.’

‘In an emergency they would. If the train was stuck.’

‘Maybe for the first six months. When they still had the skills.’

‘You still have the skills.’

‘They’ll fade. I won’t keep them up.’ She took a deep breath. She’d made this decision and she had to see it to its logical conclusion. ‘Darcy, like it or not, I’m immovable on this. I’ve changed. I do a great massage. I can make people feel good. I love my new job.’

‘But there’s no need-’

‘For people to feel good? You’re telling me that the massage I gave to Lorraine last night wasn’t effective? And Gloria? No one’s touched her since her husband died. I bet she went to bed last night and slept like a baby. I love what I do, Darcy Rochester. It’s what I am. It’s who I am.’

‘You’re a doctor.’

‘I’m a masseuse.’

‘You’re hiding.’

‘And you’re not?’

He paused. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘You’re not running from the tragedy of your wife’s death?’