Australian Dreams. Fiona McCallum
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Название: Australian Dreams
Автор: Fiona McCallum
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon M&B
isbn: 9781474032780
isbn:
But her attention kept going back to Derek. Something didn’t feel right. Of course he was just trying to get her in the sack. But why couldn’t he just ask her out for dinner? Or better still, a movie, so they wouldn’t have to talk.
And what was he doing going on leave at such short notice, anyway? He’d said she knew, but unless she’d had a complete lapse at some point – which was entirely possible given the shitty year she was having – she hadn’t heard a thing about it. Not unheard of, but very unusual.
Had Derek really wanted her opinion on his horses? She wanted to believe it – she needed something positive in her life right now, but the odds weren’t really stacked in her favour. Last year, yes. Next year, maybe. So just why was he trying to get her to take time off?
Chapter Five
During the following week, Claire spent her spare time trying to rouse Jack from his slumber: with kind words, harsh words, and the news of her life in all its dreary black, white and grey detail. One night she’d even tried singing when she’d run out of things to say, but when the nurse came in – perhaps to look for the cat that was apparently being strangled – she took to humming.
Claire just didn’t want her father forgetting the sounds of everyday life. She’d have been quite happy if he woke just to say, ‘Would you just bloody shut up?’ Just as long as he woke up.
But she wished he’d get on with it; all the back and forth between work, home and hospital was very draining. A small part of her wondered whether Derek was right – if maybe she needed a break. Possibly. But an even bigger part was afraid that if she stopped, even paused for just a moment, she might never get going again.
On Thursday afternoon, Claire pulled into the hospital car park and turned the engine off. She laid her head on her arm across the steering wheel to try and gather the strength she needed to chatter to Jack for the next hour or so. She wondered if Bill and Daphne were inside. She hoped so.
A few weeks ago she’d started encouraging them to stay when she arrived, instead of scurrying off as had been their habit. It wasn’t fair for them to drive all that way and leave again if Claire happened to be visiting. And they weren’t expected to know when that was – Claire just came and went when she had the time.
Often now, the three of them would sit there together as if they were family. They sort of were – Claire had known them her whole life. Bill would sit beside Jack’s bed reading the paper to him and Claire would sit beside Daphne as she chattered about the goings-on at the CWA or the Hospital Auxiliary while knitting. Claire was amazed that Daphne could knit a jumper without a pattern. It wasn’t just plain either – it had all sorts of fancy stitches and twisted cables going down the front and back.
‘Only the sleeves to go now,’ Daphne had said the other day upon Claire’s enquiry. Claire had expected the constant click, click of knitting needles to be irritating – part of the reason she hadn’t insisted they stay early on. But instead, she found the sound strangely soothing.
Claire was startled to find a doctor, stethoscope strung around his shoulders, nose pressed against the window, peering at her full of concern. She must have dozed off in the fading sun. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, mouthed that she was okay, removed the keys and got out.
Her steps were leaden as she made her way across the car park. As she stared vaguely at the asphalt passing beneath her, she remembered the images that had flashed into her head while she’d dozed.
Paycheque had been screaming, rearing, lashing out, and was eventually manhandled to the ground by a small crowd of men. The images of the panic-stricken young horse – eyes alight with fear and hatred – refused to leave her.
Claire sat down in the visitors’ area for a few moments. Her heart was working overtime and her legs were having trouble carrying her. I’ll finish the week and then take the next two off, she decided. Almost instantly she was rewarded with enough strength to get up and make her way down the long, dark hall to Jack’s room. It was empty other than Jack in his bed.
Fifteen minutes later, Claire had run out of topics for conversation. Every time she’d drawn breath or changed tack, thoughts of Paycheque would start taunting her. If only Jack would wake up, she’d confess. He’d know what to do. Claire closed her eyes for a few moments to ponder how she would spend her time off – other than at the hospital. She’d sleep most of the first two days and then she’d visit Bernadette. And look for Paycheque? Maybe. Just to satisfy her curiosity and no more. It was really none of her business. Someone else owned him now.
‘Dad, I’ve decided to take a couple of weeks off. Just hang around, visit Bernie, catch up on some reading. I’ll be able to visit you during the day – you won’t be so tired then.’ Tired! What was she saying? He’s asleep, I’m the one who’s tired.
‘Actually Dad, my boss asked me to take a look at a couple of his horses. Derek Anderson – I think you’ll remember the name – he’s an owner, not a trainer. Anyway, he wanted me to go interstate with him to see them race. Of course I couldn’t go while you’re here like this. Not that I’d be much help anyhow – probably been out of the game too long. But I thought maybe I’d go to a couple of race meetings while I’m on leave – see if I’ve still got any sort of eye. Might be fun.’
Claire had her hand over Jack’s and was studying his face, as she usually did, for the slightest sign he was waking up. Even though she wasn’t really expecting him to – she’d been doing this too long to still be getting her hopes up at the end of every sentence – it had become a habit to stare at him while she spoke. And part of Claire thought that if anything would get him over the line it was talk of horses.
‘Apparently his youngsters are giving his trainer grief. Speaking of which, Paycheque was at Morphettville the other week. He was in a bit of trouble. Apparently Al Jacobs was really piss –’
Claire shut her mouth suddenly. She had become so used to rambling about her bland life that hadn’t realised what she was saying. Shit! Jack would take the news even worse than she had.
Claire bit her lip and looked away. And as she did she noticed the slightest ripple under her hand. She looked back. Were his fingers more bent than two seconds before? Despite looking at her father’s hand the whole time, Claire had no idea how it had been lying. Damn it, she should remember.
She rubbed a hand across her face. Why now, of all times, was her memory failing her? She again picked up her father’s weather-beaten hand and slid her smooth, soft one underneath.
And then there it was, the slightest contraction and scrape of his thick dry fingertips on the top of hers. Claire’s mouth dropped open and she stared. He had actually moved! She was not mistaken. She wanted to shout for joy, grab his shoulders, shake him fully awake. She knew it might just be the muscles readjusting themselves with no consciousness involved. The doctors and nurses had told her over and over.
Claire’s gaze travelled up Jack’s arm to his face. It was a little contorted, as though he were trying to change the position of his mouth. Was she imagining it? She leant forward and put a hand on his chest.
‘It’s okay, Dad, take your time.’ His eyeballs rolled СКАЧАТЬ