Page 43 of Prognosis Bad Timing

‘The bottom line again, Carrie?’

She heard the disdain in his voice and saw the contemptuous curl of his lip. ‘Yes, Charlie, The bottom line. Sorry to be so boring but a project of this magnitude -’ She tapped the plans with a pen. ‘Takes serious cash.’

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that her investigation was probably going to recommend closure.

Ignoring her doubts, he continued. ‘Once you’ve finished your financial analysis I’ll take everything to the hospital board. The plans and my ideas on funding them. This kind of project should attract a lot of monetary support from government, private and community sources.’

‘I don’t know, Charlie,’ Carrie said, her gaze returning to the plans. She chose her words carefully. ‘The drop-in centre is hardly a financial gold mine to start with. This will be a really hard sell.’

Charlie pushed away from the chair. ‘It’s a free clinic, Carrie. It’s not in our charter to make a profit.’

‘It’s not in your charter to lose money, either. If you do succeed in convincing them to do this, you’re going to need to keep your books better.’

Charlie grinned at her. ‘I’ll put a part-time bookkeeper in my proposal.’

Carrie shook her head as she watched him swagger out the door.

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Charlie attacked therest of the day with renewed vigour. He felt like he was starting afresh. The excitement he’d felt when he’d first had the plans drawn up returned. Formulating them shortly after his separation from Veronica had taken his mind off what had been happening in his personal life and he had worked on them day and night.

Then, six months ago his whole life had changed again in the blink of an eye, and he had put everything on hold.

But no more. He intended to take his life back. No matter what it held.

An hour after Angela left for the day, Charlie was at the front desk looking for a file, when a young woman staggered into the clinic. She looked about seventeen and was clutching the two edges of her torn T-shirt together, one breast half-exposed.

Her skirt was ripped, her face red and bruised, her bottom lip swollen and bleeding. She was sobbing and her mascara had run all down her face.

Charlie raced around the other side of the desk and caught her before she collapsed.

‘Don’t touch me, don’t touch me,’ she screamed at Charlie, struggling to free herself from his hold.

Charlie released her instantly. Everyone in the lounge and waiting area stopped and stared, the jukebox the only noise.

The girl didn’t look familiar to Charlie. ‘It’s okay. I’m a doctor. My name’s Charlie. You look hurt. Are you okay?’

The girl looked at him with fear and rage in her eyes. ‘I couldn’t stop him, he was too big.’

Charlie felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The girl had been raped. Damn it, he really needed Angela!

‘Jordan,’ he said to the nearest open-mouthed teenager, ‘go and get Carrie.’

Jordan scuttled past quickly and hurried down the hallway to the staffroom. ‘It’s OK,’ Charlie said again to the frightened girl, ‘No one’s going to hurt you here. You’re safe now.’

Carrie strode briskly down the hallway, Jordan close behind. She arrived on the scene and stifled a horrified gasp at the badly beaten girl with wild eyes, her stance wary and agitated.

‘This is Carrie,’ Charlie said quietly. ‘She’s a doctor, too.’

Carrie felt the denial rise to her lips. No, no, no.

She wasn’t here for this.

Ever since she’d met Charlie he’d been dragging her into situations she didn’t want to be in. Had given up before Dana’s birth. But the wounded-animal look in the girl’s eyes called to something deep inside her, and she just couldn’t turn away from such a wretched soul.

‘Why don’t you go with her so she can help you with your injuries?’

Carrie looked at Charlie. The look in his eyes was almost as desperate as the girl’s. He needed her to do this for him, for this girl. But more than that, his slight nod told her he had faith in her. That she could do it.

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