Page 62 of The Heir Apparent
“Full marks?” I said doubtfully. “What about how I’m always leaving my washing on the line, and you have to bring it in for me?”
“I’d still give you a ten out of ten.”
“What about how I let Ragu lick the plates?”
“Ugh, you’reright, your fatal flaw. Okay, nine out of ten.”
The sun finally broke through the clouds and warmed my already pink face.
“I have to think of a worthy cause,” I said. “In November, they want me to host a reception for a charity that doesn’t get enough attention.”
He smiled, but it was a strained smile, and I realised that by November, I would have been in London for almost twelve months. Sometimes, the end of the year felt like the sheer drop off a dark cliff. Either I would crash-land or float to the ground.
“Who are you going to pick?”
“I don’t know. It’s the first time I get to choose something, and now I can’t seem to think of anything.”
He thought for a while. “What about that place you went when you were a kid? The hospital in Africa that helps women after childbirth. It’s perfect. It’s everything you care about, and the hospital probably needs the support.”
I stared into the phone, wondering how he could possibly remember that. When had I told him? Four years ago? Six? Probably it had happened on a long bushwalk when we were trudging across weatherbeaten plateaus, my feet aching, all civilised small talk exhausted a few kilometres back, so that the real conversation between us began to unfurl.
Whether we were walking through a dripping rainforest, or wading along the shores of Narcissus Bay, I had told him about the time I went to Kenya with Mum to visit a hospital that treated obstetric fistula, a horror pregnancy complication that ruined the lives of millions of women in sub-Saharan Africa. While we were there, a fifteen-year-old girl had burst through the doors of the hospital, and she wept when the staff said they could help her.
That was the moment I’d decided to be a doctor. It was why I’d always planned to choose obstetrics as my specialty when my residency was done.
“Can I ask you something?” I said to him.
“Of course.”
“And you have to be honest.”
“Okay.”
“Would it not be better that I finish my training and then go volunteer at that hospital? Wouldn’t that have more impact than just throwing a party to raise awareness about it?”
Jack’s parents were legendary protesters who had saved a pristine waterway from government greed. I couldn’t imagine that he would ever think charity functions were a worthy use of my time.
But he shrugged. “Both options make the world better. You’re a great doctor. But when you speak, the world sits up and pays attention. So maybe you just need to decide which one would make you happier. Sometimes you just have to choose.”
I nodded.
“I’ll come,” he added. “In November, I’ll come to the reception thing. If you invite me, that is. I mean, I can’t make a huge donation or anything, but I’ll be there if you want me to be, and maybe…”
He trailed off, and I saw that he was nervous.
“Would you?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’ll come to London in November?”
“Yeah.”
We exchanged fluttery smiles. Until Granny had mentioned it, I’d never considered that I could just ask him to board a plane and come see me. In five months, he might be standing among all those men in ties and tails, out of place among the British establishment, but warm and solid by my side.
“Okay,” I said. “That means I’ve picked a charitable cause, and I’ve put someone on the guest list.”
“Good.”
