Page 60 of Doctor of the Bay

“Jeezus.” What the fuck? They didn’t look that dangerous last night.

“Yeah, well both are at the clinic for stitches and wound care. Mark’s taking care of them and then it’ll be off to the drunk tank for the next twenty-four hours.”

Her body shakes, not because she’s cold but because she’s crying.

I don’t say anything but hold her to me as I reach for my phone and text Meryl that we’ll be in a bit this morning.

I open my last email for the day. It’s a medical report about a patient. I’m about to print it out when another email pops up. The sender piques my interest and I close the Brisbane doctor’s email and open this one instead.

It’s my lawyer. I’m hoping it’s with news of my divorce.

“Fuck!” I slam shut my laptop and jump up from my seat.

I pace my office then sit back down and click ‘reply’.

“What do you mean she is suddenly contesting it? Can she even at this stage and where the fuck is she?”

I swear I will fly back to South Africa and glue a pen to her hand until she signs it.

I shut down my computer and leave the office. “Thanks Meryl,” I say as I walk out, leaving her to lock up for the day. By the time I get home I’m well and truly steaming. I decide emails take too long, so I pluck my phone from my pocket.

“De Villiers and Lawnton,” a rough Capetonian accent answers.

“Yes, this is Doctor Hill I need to speak to Mr. De Villiers right now.”

“Just a moment,” the voice replies, and I am placed on hold. It’s only moments before my lawyer’s voice echoes across the phone.

“Jay. I just received your reply.”

“What the hell, Ralph?”

The man sighs deeply, and it only serves to piss me off more. I stomp out to the deck. “Well?”

“Yes, to answer your question, she can. And no, I have no idea where she’s at as her lawyers won’t divulge.”

“Fuck.”

“Look. It maybe she has cold feet. As soon as we can locate her, I’ll have a specialist deal with it.” His voice gets low and soft.

“Fine. Whatever it takes, but no threatening, okay?”

“Got it. Talk soon.” And the line goes dead.

I slam my phone on the table and decide it’s time for a run before I go over to Simmi to see how she’s going with her parents.

I find Simmi sitting on the top step leading to the front door of her folks’ home. It’s an old building, but well looked after and rather quaint.

“How are they going?” I sit down beside her.

“Feeling very sorry for themselves. I bailed them out after work. Felt sorry for Nellie and the others having them there.”

She shakes her head and I drape my arm across her shoulders.

“How do I know?”

“What?” I ask leaning back to see her face.

“That we won’t end up like that.” She throws a thumb over her shoulder. “Like them… too.”

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