Page 21 of Prognosis Bad Timing

Charlie gripped the edge of his locker, his peripheral vision full of Carrie twisting and flexing through her middle, emphasising the arch of her back and pushing her full breasts temptingly against the electric blue silk of her blouse. Her jacket was hanging off the back of her chair and he wished she’d leave the damn thing on.

He rustled around his locker for nothing in particular. ‘Being fit is important. And basketball helps me work better with these kids. Helps me relate.’

Suddenly Angela bustled into the room. ‘I’m sorry, Charlie, but Lilly’s sick. The school’s called. I’m going to have to leave.’

“She okay?” he asked already grappling mentally with his afternoon schedule.

“I don’t know.” Angela shrugged. ‘A fever.’

‘Pop her in to me later if you’re worried, I’ll check her out.’

‘What about the immunisation clinic?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll manage.” He smiled. “Just go.’

‘It’ll take you twice as long without me,’ she protested.

‘I’ll manage. Carrie will help,’ he added, and shot his most confident smile at his dubious receptionist.

Carrie blinked. Did he think she didn’t have enough on her plate, without doing his work, too? She opened her mouth to tell him it wasn’t going to happen but he was looking at her with a plea in his eyes that she found hard to resist.

She shut her mouth and turned her head to look at Angela. The older woman was looking her up and down like she had the first day, her expression registering extreme doubt. It was irritating and goaded her into action. ‘Sure, I can.’

The older woman gave her the once-over again and Carrie felt as if she’d been dressed down by the school principal and found wanting. ‘You’re certain?’ Angela asked her boss.

‘I’ll be fine,’ Carrie butted in, before Charlie had a chance to answer.

Angela ignored her, repeating the question. ‘Charlie?’

He nodded. ‘We’ll be fine.’

‘OK, thanks. I’ll pop in later if I need to.’

They watched Angela leave. Carrie was still miffed by Angela’s lack of faith which made no sense because it was probably warranted.

‘You are still a registered doctor, aren’t you?’ he asked as the door shut.

‘Of course,’ she said indignantly.

He shrugged. ‘Hey, something obviously happened with you. I thought you may have been deregistered.’

‘Most certainly not,’ she said primly, drawing herself up to her full height. She’d have probably never recovered from that blow on top of everything else.

‘I’m sorry.’ He shrugged. ‘I just assumed...’

‘How about you don’t do that anymore?’ she said frostily.

He wasn’t perturbed by her haughtiness, if anything he seemed to enjoy it, shooting her a grin. ‘Clinic starts in fifteen minutes.’

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The waiting area wascrowded with men, women and children of all ages when Carrie walked out on shaky legs. But this she could handle.

Surely?

Giving a few needles was hardly the same as lending a hand at an accident scene. No one’s life was in the balance. There wouldn’t be blood or the horrifying urgency of every second counting. A quick jab, dry a few tears, console a few stressed mothers and send them on their way.

Anyone could do it.

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