The Doctor's Mistress. Lilian Darcy

the first time Mum had taken a nap on the couch. She often fell asleep in front of the television at night, he knew.

      Did Tori regularly end up pottering around by herself, having ideas more ambitious than her small hands could manage, while Mum snoozed?

      He should have insisted that it was too much...

      Byron heard a soft movement behind him and turned, expecting it to be Tori’s nurse, come to carry out her scheduled set of observations. Instead, it was Hayley Kennett. Except, no, she wasn’t Kennett any more, he remembered vaguely. She’d married Chris someone. Only...wasn’t she divorced now? Someone had passed on that bit of news to him. So perhaps it was Kennett again, after all.

      He ransacked his brain, trying to fill in the landscape of her life in more detail, but couldn’t do it. He also felt bad that he hadn’t recognised her at first today. She had always been one of the nicest girls at swim club—fun-loving, hardworking, competitive and zestful, with a body as sleek as a seal’s and no falseness in the way she’d congratulated those who’d been more successful than her.

      He wasn’t surprised that she’d succeeded in the demanding career she had chosen. The NSW Ambulance Service often received over a thousand applications for every advertised trainee position. Odds like that wouldn’t have scared Hayley off.

      ‘Hello,’ she said quietly. ‘I wanted to see how she was getting on. And your mother.’

      ‘I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you today.’ He touched her hand briefly. It was pleasantly cool.

      She shook her head, and her dangling earrings caught the light. ‘You had other things to think about.’

      ‘Thank you for being there.’

      ‘I was just doing my job.’

      ‘You’re not doing it now, though. You didn’t need to follow up.’

      ‘I wanted to.’

      ‘I really appreciate it, Hayley.’

      It was the sort of thing that you said anyway, but he discovered, as he tasted the words in his mouth, that he really meant them. What was this new feeling that had been nagging at him lately? Whatever it was, the sight of Hayley made it diminish immediately. Something uncoiled inside him, and the perpetual tightness at his temples and in the back of his throat slowly and fractionally eased.

      ‘How’s Tori?’ she asked.

      They both looked down at the sleeping child. Byron knew that she was the most beautiful child in the whole world, with her creamy skin and long lashes and fine, blond-streaked light brown hair. He accepted that there was perhaps a tiny hint of parental bias in his opinion, and that other people didn’t think the same way, but that was their problem!

      ‘We pulled her through the real danger—the shock—and she’s stable now,’ he said. ‘Kidney output is good. We’re still giving her a lot of fluid, high pain relief. There’s very little full-thickness burning. She’ll only need a couple of small grafts, which I can take her to Canberra for. Thank heavens. I keep thinking, if she hadn’t known how to dial OOO... If she hadn’t remembered our address...’

      ‘But she did. Those what ifs are dangerous, Byron,’ Hayley said. ‘What if she hadn’t burned herself at all, and she’d gone on thinking that your mother was just having a sleep? Your mum could have lost her airway while she was unconscious and choked to death. Maybe Tori’s burns have saved your mother’s life.’

      ‘Don’t follow it any further.’ He shook his head, his closed mouth firm and tight, then added, ‘You’re right. I’m thinking too much, when action is what I prefer. I checked on Mum a few minutes ago, across the corridor, and she’s asleep as well. Otherwise I’d take you across, so she could thank you. I mean,’ he revised, ‘she’s not talking yet, but she was squeezing my hand earlier.’

      ‘That’s good.’

      ‘She’s looking a lot better than she did at first. Look, have you eaten? Would you like to grab something? What is it?’ He looked at his watch. ‘Just after six? We could...catch up, or something.’

      Dear Lord, what was that odd little thread in his voice? he wondered. Was it shaking?

      ‘Uh, well, I was about to head home,’ Hayley answered him reluctantly.

      She saw the disappointment in his face at once, and guessed its source. He was restless, anguished. He didn’t want to eat with just the company of his own tortured thoughts tonight.

      ‘But I could hold off on that,’ she added quickly. ‘Just for an hour or so. My son’s with my mother.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ he answered. ‘No, please, keep to your plans.’

      ‘Look, I’ll phone her, OK? Max is probably fine to stay a bit longer. He’s very comfortable at Mum’s, and she was going to feed us anyway. I’m not rostered tomorrow, and I’m taking him to his first preschool session. He and I get to see plenty of each other.’

      ‘Tori’s starting preschool, too. Supposed to be,’ he revised in a bleak tone. ‘Is your son going to Arden North?’

      ‘Yes, it’s just around the corner from us.’

      ‘And it’s halfway between my place and the hospital. I live at—Well, you know where I live.’

      ‘It’s a beautiful house,’ she offered. ‘So dramatic and cleverly designed. You must have enjoyed getting it right, and once you’ve got the garden going...’

      Byron shook his head. ‘It’s not beautiful to me at the moment. Stupid to blame the house for what happened!’

      ‘Pizza?’ she suggested, to change the subject. He looked as if he wanted to veer away from it—like a racing driver taking a tight turn.

      ‘Sounds good.’ It was automatic, and Hayley guessed that he didn’t care what they ate.

      ‘I’ll ring Mum and Max from my mobile when we get outside,’ she said. ‘Want to take my car?’

      ‘Whatever...’

      She suspected he might have more male ego at stake on the issue normally, but tonight he either didn’t care or he realised, as she did, that he was too preoccupied to be safe at the wheel. The latter, probably. She somehow had the impression he’d become a man who kept pretty close tabs on his own emotions.

      ‘Something’s come up,’ she said to her mother on the phone. ‘Could you handle it if I’m not there till about seven-thirty or so?’

      ‘We’re fine. Not a problem, I hope?’

      ‘I’ll tell you later.’

      It was almost comical to watch Byron folding himself into her small car. Chris always refused to drive with her at all. ‘That thing? I’d rather walk! Come on, look at me! Do you think I’d fit? We’ll take my car.’

      Byron was tactful enough not to comment on the dimensions of the car. Perhaps he didn’t care tonight. He had his knees tipped sideways and pressed hard against the door, and a painfully tight frown on his face.

      Hayley didn’t try to talk to him as they drove. He probably wanted to make this quick, and he might well end up regretting that he’d asked her. She’d seen enough of the way people behaved in a crisis to know that moods could swing back and forth like the boom of a runaway yacht in a storm.

      There were two pizza restaurants in Arden, and she picked the closest, able to park directly in front of it because it was early and a weeknight.

      ‘Whatever you like’ was his preference in toppings.

      Helpful! But she didn’t want to push, didn’t want to waste time and energy over something that trivial. Suddenly remembered the pizza nights they’d had after swim meets and confidently told the man behind the counter, ‘Large ham and pineapple, please.’

      ‘Take-away?’