He stared. ‘What the hell…?’

‘You can’t run from the past.’

There was a moment’s silence while he thought about that. ‘Is that why you came back here, then?’ His voice was almost a whisper. His tone was that of discovery. Like he’d discovered the truth. ‘You came back to face the past?’

Ouch. It was so close to the truth that it made her flinch. But she wasn’t about to give this man the upper hand.

‘If I’m doing that then it’s more than you’re doing.’

‘You know nothing about it,’ he told her. ‘Rachel and I-’

‘I don’t need to hear.’

‘You do, you know,’ he told her, and his voice became even more gentle. ‘You accused me of running when nothing could be further from the truth. Rachel and I had a wonderful relationship. A wonderful marriage.’

‘I don’t-’

‘We met in high school,’ he told her, ignoring her interruption. ‘We were best of friends. We started med school together and then Rachel was diagnosed with leukaemia. We went through five years of treatment and remission and treatment and remission and finally we faced her death. Together.’

‘I’m…I’m sorry.’

‘But the thing is,’ he said, his voice suddenly relentless, ‘that I kept faith with our dream. We’d always wanted to practise in the country. Always. With Rachel’s illness it wasn’t possible, but we used to escape every chance we had and drive through remote little hamlets, figuring out where our ideal practise would be as soon as Rachel got better.’

‘I-’

‘But she didn’t get better,’ he told her, his voice flat, almost ruthless. ‘Six months after she died, though, I came back to the town we’d decided was the perfect place to work. Here. So how the hell you think I’m running away…’

So much for a perfect day. She was feeling about three inches tall.

‘So I’m not hiding,’ he told her. ‘But you…’

‘I’m not.’

‘You’re running from medicine.’

‘No!’

‘Then why-?’

‘Leave it.’

‘I’m damned if I will. Not without a reason. Ally, this town doesn’t need a massage therapist. It’s desperate for a doctor.’

‘It has you.’

‘We could work together. There’s plenty of work for us both to make a living.’

‘Why would I want to work with you?’ she demanded in desperation. ‘You just keep shouting at me.’

Silence. Stalemate. He was staring at her in baffled frustration.

More silence.

‘You know, you won’t make a living,’ he said at last. ‘No one will come.’

‘They might.’

‘Maybe one or two.’

‘In five minutes,’ she said, glancing at her watch, ‘I’m opening my front door as a massage therapist. I’d imagine in five minutes you’ll be starting work as you always do next door. We’re professional colleagues but in different professions. Now, if you’ll excuse me…’

‘I won’t excuse you.’

But it seemed he had no choice. There was a shout from below. A woman’s voice.

‘Ally. Ally Westruther. You’re wanted down here. Now!’

Silence.

‘Ally,’ the voice called again, and Ally smirked.

‘This’ll be my first customer,’ she told him, and he raised his brows in disbelief.

‘You wish.’

‘Yeah, and you just wish I’d go away.’

‘Of course I don’t. But if you’re going to advertise that you’re a doctor…’

‘Ally!’

‘It’s Betty,’ Darcy snapped. ‘My receptionist. So much for your first customer.’ He gave Ally a last frustrated glance and strode to the still open window.

‘I’m here,’ he called-and then he stopped.

Ally peered over his shoulder.

It wasn’t just Betty.

Half the population of Tambrine Creek seemed to be assembled out on the main street. People waving balloons, banners, placards. People holding plates of food. Guys with crates of what looked like glasses, and more crates with bottles of…champagne?

‘Darcy.’ Betty was standing on Ally’s front step, holding a huge tray of sandwiches. ‘What are you doing up here?’

‘Um…visiting,’ he said weakly, and Ally was pushing him aside and shoving her head out the window.

‘Betty,’ she said in astounded delight, and she leaned so far that Darcy caught hold of her and held on. She leaned further and he was forced to hold tighter.

‘Hey,’ she said, her face breaking into a huge smile as she saw the extent of the congregation assembled in her street. The balloons. The placards. ‘It’s a party.’

‘It surely is,’ Betty told her. ‘Read the placards. Hush, everyone.’ She turned and waved and the crowd fell silent. They must have been under instruction, Ally thought, stunned. There’d been absolute silence until Betty had called out, but as Ally appeared there was a swelling murmur of speculation.

Doctor caught in bedroom of massage therapist. Whoops.

But Betty was in charge and speculation wasn’t on the agenda. She handed her sandwich tray to someone and braced in speech position.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she said, and someone at the back gave a derisory hoot.

‘Yeah, and the rest of us. Get on with it, Betty.’

‘I just want to say something about Ally.’

‘Say it.’

Betty grinned. She smiled up at Ally, her broad, kind face taking in the fact that Darcy was leaning out as well.

‘Ally’s come back,’ she said, turning to the crowd again. ‘Our Ally. We hated seeing her go all those years ago and we’re delighted she’s back. We love the fact that she’s setting up in this town and we’re tickled pink that there’s a Dr Westruther in town again.’ Her beam widened still more and she motioned to the mass of banners.

WELCOME ALLY, the sign said.

And…

MASSAGE ROCKS, said another.

And…

WE LOVE DR WESTRUTHER, said a third.

‘This morning Ally thought she was opening for business without fanfare,’ Betty told them. ‘But when any business opens there should be a ceremony and when any house starts being lived in there should be a house-warming. So this is it, Ally, dear,’ she said, turning again to smile up at Ally. ‘We started an appointment book for you, and you’re booked out solid from eleven a.m. this morning for the rest of the week. But for now…welcome to your Welcome-to-Tambrine-Creek party, Ally Westruther. Come on down.’


Nine o’clock on a Tuesday morning was a really stupid time for a street party but that was what was happening. Darcy stood on the doorstep of his surgery and gazed at the party-goers in disbelief.

Betty, he thought. It had to be Betty who’d organised this whole thing and, as if on cue, she appeared at his elbow.

‘Isn’t this lovely?’

‘You never welcomed me like this,’ he said with a grudging smile, and she smiled back.

‘No, but you didn’t need it. When you arrived we were overjoyed to see you, but you were still sore after Rachel’s death and we knew enough to welcome you gently.’

‘You knew about Rachel’s death before I arrived?’

‘It’s a small town,’ she said simply. ‘Everyone knows everyone else’s business, and if they don’t know it they worry. That’s why it was so amazing that Jerome Hatfield’s been up on the ridge all this time and we didn’t realise it was him.’

‘So the small-town network let you down.’ He gazed out to where Ally was balancing a glass of champagne in one hand, a lamington in the other, and was submitting to someone looping balloons through her earrings. ‘Did you know Ally was a real doctor?’

‘We haven’t seen Ally for nearly twenty years. I know her dad died years back and her mother’s been in and out of mental institutions.’

‘Her mother’s still alive?’

‘As far as I know.’ She hesitated. ‘You know, that’s one of the reasons everyone’s making such a fuss. There are people who feel guilty that we should have done more to help Ally, and also her mother.’

‘Why?’

‘Her mother, Elizabeth, was only fifteen when she got pregnant to Ally’s father,’ Betty told him. ‘Elizabeth’s father-Ally’s grandfather-was rigid with rage. He hauled her into the surgery right here and examined her and he came storming out like he was going to explode. He’d had such plans for her. She was really bright and I can remember he’d told everyone she was going to be the next town doctor. Until that day. I was a junior then, and I remember cowering back, thinking he was going to hit me. Thinking he was going to hit someone. “Get me Saul Newitt on the phone,” he yelled. Saul Newitt was the nearest obstetrician with a…well, with a dubious reputation. “She’s going to have an abortion right now.” But while he was ranting Elizabeth took off. She climbed out a back window and Ally’s dad must have been waiting because they disappeared.’

He flinched. Hell. Poor lonely kid. ‘Did Dr Westruther try to find them?’

‘Oh, of course he did,’ she told him. ‘But they were gone. And maybe they had reason if her father was going to force her to have an abortion. Then when the little one was about four, Elizabeth brought Ally home. You wouldn’t have believed it was the same girl. All the life had gone out of her. The old man didn’t help-he gave her a hard time every minute she was here-and when she disappeared again he didn’t try to find her.’

‘But you knew where she’d gone.’

‘She told someone-Marilyn, I think-in case something happened to the old man. So when Ally’s grandpa died we found her. Only it was too late. Elizabeth was really sick then.’

‘Sick?’

‘Just…empty,’ she said. ‘Ally’s father came and took Ally away but Elizabeth was finished. It was written up in the newspapers when Jerry was arrested. Her mental instability. How Ally had to go into a foster home. It was a really sad story.’ She sighed and then looked determinedly to where a laughing Ally was surrounded by a sea of balloons.

‘But who would have thought she’d end up back here? She must have ended up with really good foster-parents. Paul’s told everyone what happened last night. A qualified doctor as well as a masseuse.’ She grinned and nudged him. ‘You can’t whinge now about her sign.’