Leonie Knight - Suddenly Single Sophie

He didn’t want her to change her mind.

‘I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Your CV was impressive, your references excellent.’ He sent her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

‘Thanks,’ she said.

Her credentials were almost too good to be true. But the phone conversation he’d had with her two days ago had allayed his concerns that the inevitable culture shock would be an obstacle for her.

She cleared her throat and Will wondered if the colour in her previously pale cheeks was a reaction to his praise.

‘I … er …’ She looked away as if composing her thoughts. Was she having second thoughts?

He knew she had a privileged background. She’d been educated at one of the most expensive ladies’ colleges and graduated from medical school with top marks. He suspected her life choices had been easy and uncomplicated. He had wondered at her motivation in wanting to work in a practice so different to what she was used to.

She came from a medical family. Her father was a well-known and highly regarded GP in Sydney and Sophie had worked in his practice for the past two years. It had surprised Will that Dr Ross Carmichael had telephoned him a week ago and, in a roundabout way, had seemed to be checking his credentials. Will, in fact, had been annoyed at some of his questions and the cross-examination had struck him as being a little beyond normal protective paternal behaviour. Sophie seemed like someone who could look after herself quite capably.

He dragged his mind back to the task in hand. Sophie looked uncomfortable.

‘I, um, owe you an apology.’

Now, that was something he hadn’t expected.

A lock of Sophie’s thick red-brown hair escaped from the clasp holding it in place, and as she tucked it behind her ear Will noticed an almost imperceptible tremor in her fingers

‘An apology?’

She folded her arms across her chest.

‘You must be wondering why I’m dressed like this.’

Yes, of course he was, but he didn’t want to draw attention to her relaxed dress code. Well, not until he’d confirmed her commitment.

‘I take it you’re planning to wear something a little more conservative …’ less provocative was another description that came to mind ‘… to work.’

Rosy colour swept into her neck and flooded her face.

‘I’m sorry,’ Will said, although he wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to make her blush.

She took a deep breath.

‘My plane was delayed so I didn’t get here until this morning. Then it took another hour and a half for the airline to verify that my luggage had been mislaid. And the taxi driver who drove me to Wellesley to collect my car hardly spoke a word of English. So even if I’d had time to change—’

He’d heard enough, and doubted she could fabricate such an elaborate combination of misadventures. He understood why she had faint dark shadows under her eyes. She most likely needed rest rather than a grilling from him.

‘Ah … I see. You’ve not had the best introduction to the west. You must be exhausted.’ He thought of a dozen questions he wanted to ask but they would just have to wait. After all, he’d told her on the phone the job was hers and all he needed to do was discuss her duties, finalise her hours and sort out the paperwork.

‘The interview is a formality, really. It’s basically so we can introduce ourselves. You can ask me any questions about the work, the practice, anything you’d like to know, before you start next week.’

She leaned towards him, interlocked her fingers and placed her hands on his desk. The pose struck him as being assertive without being arrogant. Her anxiety seemed to have vanished.

Maybe she would be okay dealing with some of the rougher elements that were inevitably part of his practice.

‘I’m looking forward to it,’ she said. ‘I haven’t got any questions.’

‘Great.’ The interview was going well but there was one more thing he had to discuss and he didn’t want to put pressure on her. ‘We haven’t talked about how long you’re prepared to work here. I realise you’re not planning on staying long term, but even a few weeks will be a great help to me.’ He thought of the long-lost luxury of spare time. ‘Does a period of six to eight weeks sound agreeable?’ That would let him at least get the ball rolling with a time-consuming task he wasn’t looking forward to—organising fundraising for the community centre. ‘With the option of staying longer, of course.’ He sent her what he hoped was a charismatic smile.

‘That would suit me fine,’ she said with a look that suggested relief.

At that moment Caitlyn appeared, cheerful as ever, with two steaming cups and a plate of biscuits.

‘Thanks, Caitlyn.’

‘That’s okay, Dr Brent.’ The girl cleared a space on Will’s desk by pushing a jumble of referral pads to one side. She set down the cups.

‘No problem. Have a good weekend.’ She paused. ‘Oh, and you told me to remind you about the home visit to Mrs Farris.’

‘Thanks, I hadn’t forgotten. See you next week.’

Six weeks was perfect, Sophie thought as she reached for one of the mugs filled with coffee she now felt sufficiently relaxed to drink. It was long enough to make her father understand she wasn’t going to run back home after a week or two. She also thought of Jeremy and reminded herself she wanted to get as far away from him and his new girlfriend as possible, at least until the gossip died down.

And then she thought of Will Brent. How easy it was to like and admire him. She suspected he was close to burn-out and hoped she could give him the break he deserved. She felt certain she could learn a lot from him.

‘Would you like a biscuit?’ Will Brent’s voice snapped her out of her reverie, but before she had a chance to reply there was a loud thumping on the front door.

‘Is anyone there?’ A man’s voice boomed loud and urgent. ‘Doc Brent, I need a doctor quick!’

There was no doubt about the genuine distress he conveyed and Will was out of his seat in an instant. He grabbed a large bunch of keys from a desk drawer, glanced briefly at Sophie with an expression that invited her to follow and headed towards the front of the building.

Through the frosted glass panels of the door Sophie could make out the dark shape of a man who appeared to be carrying a child.

Will opened the door and a stocky man wearing full football kit, including boots, stumbled in. A boy of about four or five, dressed in an almost identical outfit, lay limp and wheezing in his arms.

‘Thank God you’re still here.’

The child opened his eyes but barely had the energy to whimper as Will took him gently from the man Sophie assumed was his father.

‘How long’s he been like this, Steve?’ Will voiced his first question with just the right mix of authority and empathy. He obviously knew the pair and was leading them past the reception desk into a well-equipped treatment room. He laid the child down, adjusted the examination couch so the boy was sitting and placed an oximeter on his finger.

‘No more than fifteen minutes. Jake was with me mates at the oval, watching the game, and they called me off the field.’ The man pulled down his son’s sock to reveal an angry red swelling just above his ankle. Sophie could see similar, smaller lesions on his arms.

‘Bee sting,’ he added, as if that explained everything. ‘We know he’s allergic, but the worst he’s had in the past has been a rash.’ He took a sharp intake of breath. ‘He’s never been this bad. It came on real quick. He can hardly breathe. We were going to the hospital but I saw your car—’

Steve was close to tears and began hyperventilating.