Marion Lennox - Dynamite Doc or Christmas Dad?

‘But then we found out about the obstetrician conference,’ Marge said. ‘So we thought we’d find a nice-looking doctor and confess. And you … you look kind.’

Silence. Did he look kind? Jess wondered. An Oaklander? Kind? Hardly.

‘My mum’s an obstetrician, too,’ Dusty said into the silence, and then there was even more silence.

Jess and Ben … Two obstetricians and one pregnant pug.

Two elderly ladies looked defiant but hopeful. Jess started feeling exposed.

‘You’re here for the conference, too?’ Ben asked Jess at last, and the wariness was back in his voice.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But I’m not stealing your patient.’ She managed a smile. ‘Pokey is all yours.’

He didn’t laugh.

He was wary, Jess thought, and maybe not just of being pulled into an illegal dog-birth situation. She saw him glance at Dusty.

Definitely wary.

‘It’s okay,’ Jess said. ‘We’re not about to intrude on your privacy.’

Why had she said that?

It was just that … his body language was all about protecting himself. He was acting as if she and Dusty and maybe also these ladies and their weird animals were a threat.

Familiar anger started surging. Kind? Ha. He was an Oaklander.

She was reminded suddenly of the night she’d told Nate she was pregnant. He’d closed down. Backed off. Disclaimed responsibility.

The Oaklander specialty.

‘If your mother’s going to the conference, what will you do?’ Sally asked Dusty, seemingly unaware of the undercurrents running between Jess and Ben. Between Ben and everyone. The assumption was that the question of Pokey had been solved. The belief was that Ben would help.

Would he?

‘I’ll play on my computer,’ Dusty said, switching instantly to martyr mode. His specialty. ‘I have to do that when Mum has to work and I can’t go out. Mum says there’ll be a hotel person to sit with me. Whoever that is. It’s okay. I’m used to it.’

Uh-oh. All eyes—including Dusty-the-Martyr’s—gazed at her with reproach. She could feel herself flushing. Neglectful mother, abandoning child to uncaring hotel person and mindless computer games.

Guilt …

She’d checked there was a child minding service before she’d come. She and Dusty had talked about it. They’d go to the beach early and she’d skip less important conference sessions. Dusty wouldn’t suffer.

‘Try being a single mother yourself,’ she muttered under her breath, and practically glowered.

But Dusty was soaking it up. Pathetic-R-Us. ‘It’s okay,’ he said again, manfully. ‘I don’t really mind.’

‘Would you like to help us in the wildlife centre?’ Sally asked Dusty. Taking pity on The Orphan.

‘We can use some help,’ Marge agreed, smiling at The Orphan as well. ‘That is, if you like animals. Your mum could walk you over to the refuge in the mornings before the conference and pick you up afterwards. It’s not too far. If you think you’d enjoy it …’

‘We look after lots of things,’ Sally told him. ‘Possums, echidnas, kangaroos, goannas, birds, turtles; there’s always work to do. You look like the sort of boy who’d enjoy helping.’

So they’d seen his hunger.

Dusty’s fascination with animals had started early. Even as a toddler, he’d been fascinated with the photographs of his mother’s childhood. His grandma’s cat who’d died just before she did was the extent of Dusty’s hands-on animal contact, but he’d read it all, and now, even while he was playing the neglected orphan, he hadn’t taken his eyes from the baby wombat. He’d known instantly what it was. He knew his animals.

‘If it’s okay with your mother,’ Marge said, and it was still there, that faint accusation. Abandoning your child …

‘It must be hard to be a doctor and a mum as well,’ Ben said suddenly, and she glanced up at him in surprise. She’d been carefully not looking at him, expecting the same accusation. But instead what she got was almost … empathy?

‘Patients don’t understand that doctors have families,’ he said gently. ‘Emergencies don’t always happen in school hours. And if Dusty’s mother wants to keep up with the latest developments in obstetrics so she can give her mothers the best of care, then she needs to undertake professional development. Like coming to this conference. I’d imagine coming with his mum would be much more fun for Dusty than leaving him behind.’

‘Yes,’ Dusty said, finally abandoning the pathetic. ‘Mum went to a course last school holidays and I had to stay with Mum’s Aunty Rhonda for three whole days. And she made me eat roast beef and soggy vegetables for three days in a row. Coming here’s better than that.’

There was a general chuckle. The tension eased and Jessie’s anger faded. Or not so much anger. Defensiveness.

She hated leaving Dusty alone. She loved her work.

Push, pull. The minute she’d turned into a mother the guilt had kicked in. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get it right.

‘Well, Dusty, what about helping in the wildlife shelter instead of computer games?’ Marge asked, and her tone had changed. Ben’s interjection had helped.

‘I don’t know …’ Dusty looked dubiously at Jess.

‘Come over tomorrow and check us out,’ Marge said warmly. ‘You could all come.’ She beamed at Ben, including him in her invitation. ‘You’re here early for the conference. You can’t come to Cassowary Island and not see what we really do. Come at ten and we’ll give you a guided tour.’ She hesitated and Jess saw her wince. Once again, that impression of pain, and this time she conceded it. ‘My leg’s a bit sore at the moment,’ she admitted. ‘Maybe you could even give Sally and Dianne a hand with the cleaning. Would that be okay?’

‘I’ll be busy,’ Ben said.

‘Too busy to take an hour or so out to see how our shelter runs?’ Marge sounded incredulous. ‘And you’ll want to meet Pokey.’

‘I don’t need to meet Pokey.’

‘Well, we need you to meet Pokey,’ Marge said, with asperity. ‘And if we’re looking after your little boy during the conference then it’s the least you can do.’

‘He’s not my little boy,’ Ben snapped.

‘He’s not?’ The wildlife worker visibly reran the immediate conversation through her head. She looked from Ben to Dusty and back again. ‘You mean you don’t know each other?’

‘No.’

‘But he looks like you.’

There was a moment’s silence. Dusty stared at Ben. Turned to his mother. Opened his mouth.

‘We don’t know each other,’ Jess said, cutting Dusty off before he could say a word. She wasn’t ready. Panic.

Panic was stupid, but there it was. Not now. Please.

‘But you’re both obstetricians,’ Sally said, sounding thrilled. ‘How wonderful. That’s exactly what Pokey needs. So ten tomorrow? Marge will pick you up in her beach buggy. Be ready. And whatever you charge is fine by us.’

‘I don’t …’ Ben started.

‘Accept payment?’ Sally said blithely. ‘We thought you might say that. A donation to your favourite charity is okay with us. And we understand all care, and no responsibility. So if there are no other objections we’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘I need to read,’ Ben said, retreating.

‘Of course you do,’ Sally said. ‘Work now so you’ll have time for us tomorrow. Now …’ She looked at Jess. ‘Would your little boy like to hold a wombat?’

THE convention centre and associated resort was as good as the internet had promised, maybe better. Quite simply, Jess couldn’t believe her luck.

The rooms weren’t built as a standard hotel, but as a series of bungalows, each with a mini-veranda overlooking the beach. With the windows swung wide, it was as if the beach was in the room. You could run from the bungalow into the sea in a minute.