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      Which meant there was no senior doctor to call in.

      ‘What about Harry?’ Sheldon said, but Cate shook her head.

      ‘Harry needs this weekend,’ Cate said. ‘Unless there’s a serious emergency, we should try not to call him. I’ve let him know that Dr Vermont is sick but…’

      ‘What about Juan?’ Sheldon suggested. ‘He’s senior.’

      She could not face calling him, so instead she asked Frances on Reception to ring and ask if he could come in.

      ‘He’s not available today.’ Frances came off the phone and then smiled as Jane, a new ward clerk, came over. ‘I’ve got a job for you,’ Frances said. ‘Start from here and work your way down and see if you can get any of these doctors to cover from now until ten p.m. I’ve already tried the names that are ticked.’

      Cate stood there as Timothy’s screams filled the department and his anxious mum came racing out.

      ‘Do you really think he should be going home?’ she demanded.

      ‘We’re just waiting for someone to come and take another look at Timothy,’ Cate said. ‘Kelly, can you go and run another set of observations on him…’ Cate let out a breath then turned to Sheldon. ‘I’ll ring Harry.’

      Harry sighed into the phone when Cate called him and they briefly discussed Dr Vermont. ‘He’s never taken a day off until recently for as long as I’ve known him,’ Harry said. ‘Did he say what was wrong?’

      ‘No,’ Cate admitted. ‘And I didn’t really feel that it was my place to ask. I just said I hoped he got well soon and I would arrange cover.’ She gave a wry laugh. ‘Which is proving easier said than done on a Sunday afternoon. Sheldon is concerned about a two-year-old who’s really not right. They’ve diagnosed an irritable hip and the paediatricians have discharged him…’

      ‘Do you want me to come and have a look at him?’

      ‘I want you to finally have a weekend off, without being called in.’

      ‘Well, that’s not going to happen for a while.’ Harry let out another long sigh. ‘Have you tried Juan?’

      It was a compliment indeed that Harry was thinking of asking Juan to cover for the rest of the weekend because, despite his impressive qualifications, Juan only covered as a locum resident.

      ‘We tried,’ Cate said. ‘He can’t.’

      ‘Okay, I’ll be there in ten minutes but I’ll have to bring in the children.’

      ‘That’s fine,’ Cate said. ‘I’ve got Tanya sitting in the obs ward, watching one elderly patient, I’m sure she won’t mind.’

      Juan ended the call with Frances.

      He had thought for a moment about accepting the shift at Bayside but he knew that he might not be the best company today.

      Martina would be ringing him soon, pleading with him to give them another go. She would say that she had just panicked, that in time, of course, she would have come around to his injuries.

      Juan turned off his phone, not trusting Martina not to use a different number just so that he wouldn’t recognise it and pick up.

      He would go for a drive, Juan decided. For the most part, while in Australia, he had enjoyed not driving, but now and then he hired a car. It was just so that he could explore, but today he wanted to do something different.

      Juan hired a motorbike—it was his main mode of transport back home.

      Or once had been.

      Juan felt the machine between his legs and guided it up the hills, felt the warm breeze whipping his face and arms, and he relished it.

      The view was amazing; to the left was the bay, and ahead he could see the smoke plumes far in the distance where bush fires were still raging, swallowing hectares of land but thankfully no homes.

      He had enjoyed travelling around Australia—it was an amazing and diverse country and it had been everything he needed. It had been the last few weeks that had made him feel unsettled, wondering if it was time to think of returning home.

      He swallowed down a mouthful of sparkling water, thought about New Zealand and Asia, and was suddenly weary at the thought of new adventure. He just couldn’t get excited at the prospect of starting over again, and finally he knew he had to acknowledge the day.

      His family had been ringing all morning, trying to see how he was coping, whether or not he was feeling okay.

      Juan really didn’t know how he was feeling.

      He sat there, staring into the distance, trying to picture how his life might have been had the accident not happened. He and Martina would have been married for a year now—perhaps there would have been a baby on the way by now.

      Juan asked himself if he would have been happy.

      Yes.

      Then he asked himself if he was happy now.

      There was no neat answer.

      Juan dragged his hands through his hair and his fingers moved to the back of his neck. For a moment he felt the thick scar and recalled pulling Cate’s hand away from it.

      He hated anyone knowing.

      Not just about the accident but about what had happened afterwards.

      Still, eighteen months on, he could not quite get his head around the moment when everything had fallen apart—and it hadn’t been the moment of impact.

      Juan closed his eyes, remembered when he had looked up into the eyes of the woman he was due, in six months’ time, to marry. He had realised then that it was not a limitless love.

      Juan didn’t want to dwell on it, he hated the pensiveness that swirled like a murky haze, that billowed in his gut like the plumes of smoke in the distance.

      He should be enjoying himself, Juan told himself, heading back to his bike. He should be getting on with life, living as he had promised to on those dark, lonely nights when his future had been so uncertain. He should not be thinking about some imagined past that had never happened, a marriage that hadn’t taken place. He should be embracing the future, living for this very minute, not dwelling on a wedding that had been cancelled and a future that had never existed.

      He was happy being free, Juan told himself, and he intended to remain that way. He climbed back on his bike and started the engine, ready to move on with his life—as he had said to Cate last night, nothing lasted for ever. It was about enjoying what you had now—and Juan was determined to do that.

      He was happy.

      Juan rode the bike up the hill, along the curved roads, hugging the bends and telling himself he loved the freedom, loved the thought of a world that was waiting for him to explore it.

      A small animal burst out of the bushes and his mind told him not to swerve, but instinct won.

      The bike skidded and He tried to right it but failed. But he was skilled on a motorcycle and he was not going fast, so he controlled the landing. He felt the bitumen burn along his shoulder as he and the bike skidded into the bush, regretting that he had ridden without leathers.

      Great.

      He lay there a moment, getting his breath back, winded, a bit sore. His ego was a touch bruised, especially when Juan heard a voice and the sound of someone running towards him.

      ‘Stay still!’ He heard the urgent command. ‘It’s very important that you stay still.’

      ‘I’m fine,’ Juan called back, and moved to sit up, to get the bike off that was pinning him down.

      ‘You have to stay still.’ A man was looking down at him. ‘I’m a first-aider.’

      Brilliant.

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