"Lucien, I have squeezed a patient in the schedule this afternoon, right after Agnes. You may need to let him in the house yourself if I'm not home. I have been summoned by Susan to lunch with her today. I'll try and get home as quickly as possible." Jean places the marmalade in front of him next to the plate of dry toast. He gives a glance at the cold stove assessing that it must indeed be a busy day.
"No need to rush back if you're enjoying yourself." He feels his wife's eyes slice through him before she swats him playfully.
"Anyway, it is a new patient. A young man, not even twenty, named Andrew McCray ." She looks at her notes that she scribbled down while talking to the man. "He's new to town. Contracted polio when he was six."
"Poor chap. Any lasting paralysis?"
"He didn't say. Just that he wanted to get established with a physician in case he needs one. Seemed grateful that he could come today." She is back up scurrying around the kitchen then pauses. "It seemed a bit odd though."
"How so?"
"It was almost as if he wasn't sure why he was calling, fumbling over his words. Oh it's probably nothing, just his youth. Maybe it's the first time he's making his own appointments." She chuckles.
Lucien joins in, laughing at his own youthful attempts at being a grown up. "Remember being that young?"
"Barely! Now come on, you and I both have busy days. Shoo, while I finish up here."
"Now Jean, what do you think about this one for Harry's birthday or this one? Maybe I'll just give him both. My grandson only turns one once after all."
Jean has been bombarded by Susan with plans and gifts for her grandson's first birthday since she arrived. "I think all the gifts are just lovely but he is ONLY turning one."
"Oh, you are probably right. I don't even know if this will fit him. I haven't seen him in months. Harriet always has an excuse when I want to visit and she never seems to want to come here."
"I am so sorry Susan. It must be so very difficult." Although Jean understands the pain of not seeing a grandchild often there is no malice within her family.
"He looks so much like Edward." Jean lays a comforting hand to Susan's arm. The pain of losing her only child lingers with the once powerful woman. Now Jean notes there is a vulnerability, a frailty that is hidden within her.
"Little Harry certainly looks like a Tyneman." She nods towards the large framed photo on the credenza of a chubby, rosy cheek, blue eyed baby.
"Yes. Yes, he does." Susan abruptly stands, calling for her maid before turning to Jean. "I'm sorry I kept you so long. I'm sure you are needed elsewhere."
There is the Patrick Tyneman's wife, I remember. Jean knows a dismissal when she hears one. She makes her way to the door, Susan close behind. "As a matter, Lucien has a full afternoon of appointments. If I don't get home soon the files will be a fright."
"The doctor is very lucky to have you." The air of someone that once had much standing in the town creeping back in her tone.
"Yes, I keep telling my husband that. Good day Susan."
Lucien places Agne's file on Jean's desk. There had been enough time after her visit for him to update the record but he doesn't dare touch his wife's filing cabinet. He picks up the new patient's file, starts to read the information that Jean has filled in. Andrew Christian McCray; DOB 5th December, 1942. Born in Kerang.
There is a tap on the front door. Taking one last look at the nearly empty file he makes his way to the door. "Good afternoon. You must be Andrew. I'm Dr. Lucien Blake."
Before Lucien is a young man struggling to stand upright with the assistance of heavy crutches, and ill fitting braces. "Yes, I am Andrew." The young man reaches out a hand, his weak grasp politely shaking Lucien's hand.
"Please, come in. Right this way." Lucien flashes a wide smile to comfort the obviously nervous man. "You spoke to my wife earlier. I'm afraid she isn't here at the moment but I'll try and muddle through without her." He jokes hoping to ease the man but instead Lucien senses disappointment. "Right. Shall we get started?"
Lucien begins with collecting some medical history from the young man. "Jean wrote that you contracted polio at the age of six and I can see that you have lasting effects in your legs and weakened muscle tone. Anything else?"
"Mum used to say I was always sickly but I really don't remember much before having polio. I've had pneumonia a couple times but I guess that's it."
"Do you do physical therapy?" Andrew shakes his head. "See a doctor regularly for your post polio…?" The young man continues to shake his head, eye downcast. It is clear to Lucien that the lad, barely a young man, has suffered from a lack of appropriate medical care. "Right, then. How about your parents?"
"My mum died six months ago. She had cancer."
"I am so very sorry. What form of cancer did she have?"
"She had lung cancer. Blamed growing up around all the fertilizers."
"Fertilizers? Your family isn't the same McCray of McCray's Fertilizer by any chance."
Andrew nods, "but I didn't really know any of them. My mum moved away before I was born. My grandparents visited a few times when I was young before they passed on."
"Right. And your father? Anything worth noting?"
Andrew sits quietly for a moment before answering. "I never met my father. He died in the war. Don't know anything."
Lucien tries to contain the pity that is surely on his face. His heart breaks for the young man, in poor health and seemingly alone in the world. "Why don't I have a look at you?"
The door behind Jean closes louder than she meant for it too. She hates that Susan still gets under her skin in this way. She hangs her coat with a huff. She turns only to see her dear husband's head pop out of the surgery door.
"Oh good, your home darling. Do you think you could bring in a cuppa and maybe something to eat?"
Her brow wrinkles in confusion. It isn't uncommon for Lucien to share tea and biscuits with a patient like Agnes or Cec but a stranger is odd. "Of course."
Lucien steps out further to ensure some privacy. "I'm with Andrew McCray. He is clearly undernourished and hasn't had proper medical care for some time. He has no one in Ballarat."
"Why is he here?"
"I'm not really sure. Said his mother's family is originally from here. Maybe looking for some long lost relative or a place to belong."
Jean runs her hand along his arm, keenly aware that Lucien is upset for the man sitting in the surgery. "I'll get some tea and pack up some food. You go finish up with him. I'll be back in a few."
Lucien is writing up some exercises for Andrew to work on when they hear the light tap on the door. "Aaah, that will be my wife. Come in, Jean."
Jean enters carrying a tray laden with tea and biscuits, her warm smile brightens the room. "Here is just a little something…". Andrew slowly rises to his feet, turning to greet Mrs. Blake. Time seems to freeze, only pushed forward by the crash of the tray hitting the floor.
Lucien rushes towards the mess that is before his wife. It isn't until he notices that she isn't moving to clean the shards of porcelain that he looks up at her, white as if she has seen a ghost. "Jean?"
"I'm sorry." She croaks before turning, running out of the room.
Lucien looks to Andrew, about to apologize for Jean but the young man also wears a strange look. "Thank you for your time Dr. Blake. I should be going."
Lucien remains in the surgery bewildered by what has occurred . What the bloody hell? He picks up the tin of food that Jean had packed up. He races towards the door, catching Andrew stepping onto the driveway.
"Wait! Here, take this food. Please, come back next week. I want to help you." Andrew nods.
Lucien returns to the house torn between finding Jean and cleaning up the mess in the surgery before his next patient arrives. Despite the fact that his heart wants to find his Jean and smooth whatever is troubling her, his head knows that Jean may need more than the few minutes that he has before will be knocking at the door. He hesitates, taking one last glance towards the kitchen before turning to the surgery.
What Lucien doesn't know is that his wife doesn't run to the confines of the kitchen. No, her legs take her to the comforts of her garden without her even thinking about it. She gulps the fresh air into her lungs before her knees give way. She sits before the Red Tooth Aloe and weeps.