The January Wish (2 page)

Samantha leaned back in her chair, clasping her hands over her belly and looking down as though her babies had just been placed in her lap. ‘I’m
so
looking forward to being a mother.’

Sylvia placed a hand on her patient’s forearm and smiled. ‘These twins will be lucky to have you, Samantha.’

‘Thanks, Dr Greene.’ A tear dribbled down Samantha’s cheek. ‘I’m sorry, these hormones are making me cry at the slightest things.’

‘That’s normal.’ Sylvia smiled. ‘The referral will be ready to pick up from reception by tomorrow. Good luck. I look forward to seeing you down the track.’

After Samantha left, Sylvia sat for a moment and imagined what she must be going through. The joy, the shock, the anticipation, maybe even fear. In a few months she’d be a mother, and her life would change completely.

The phone beeped. ‘I have Mr Benson on the line, do you have time to speak with him about his results?’ Joyce, the receptionist asked.

Sylvia sunk in her chair and sighed. ‘Sure, put him through.’

Sylvia arrived home from work over an hour later, but after a quick clean of the fridge, a vacuum throughout the house, and a cup of coffee, she went out the door again.

‘Hi Sylv,’ Richard said, pecking her on the cheek and lifting the Louis Vuitton suitcase from her hands.

‘Perfect timing!’ Sylvia smiled as she angled into the front seat of Richard’s BMW, grateful for a chance to sit still for a couple of hours. Richard slid into the driver’s seat and drove towards the highway. She would have taken the train, but jumped at Richard’s offer to drive her to the airport.

‘Thanks again for this. I’m sure you’d rather be spending your day off doing something else,’ Sylvia said.

‘It’s my pleasure hun, gives us a chance to spend time together.’

His lips curved into a smile, and the muscles in his forearm bulged through his olive skin as he switched gears. ‘You look nice,’ she said, only realising she’d spoken aloud once the words had left her mouth. After five weeks, their relationship was still in the early stages where hormones had first say. Wearing black pants and a charcoal grey shirt with the faintest silver pinstripes, even though his shirtsleeves were rolled up, Richard was dressed a little fancily for a drive to and from the airport. Not that she minded; nor did she mind the hint of cinnamon and spice circulating through the car with the help of the air conditioning.

‘Thanks,’ he replied. ‘I have a birthday party to go to in the city tonight, an old mate from my uni days.’

So he wasn’t just doing this as a favour to her.

It didn’t matter, she always made efficient use of her time as well. No harm in killing two birds with one stone.

‘Oh, well I chose the right day to catch a plane didn’t I?’ Sylvia said.

‘Sure did.’ Richard smiled. ‘Sorry I can’t pick you up when you return on Wednesday though.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ She flicked a hand in the air. ‘I know you’re busy at work.’

‘I’m free next Thursday night, should we schedule dinner then?’

Sylvia’s cheeks flushed with warmth. ‘How’s seven-thirty?’

‘Perfect, shall we eat in at your place this time?’

Sylvia nodded, then added a reminder into her iPhone. Not that she’d forget, but she liked to be organised. ‘What’s your schedule like after that?’ she asked.

‘Doing nights from Friday, then afternoon shifts, and I’ll be on call the following weekend. What about the Monday after that?’

That was a little over two weeks away. ‘Sure, I’ll mark it in my calendar.’ Sylvia tapped away on her phone. She’d have liked to see him sooner, but understood his hectic work schedule came first. The life of a cardiovascular surgeon did not allow for much time off. If she worked at the hospital too there’d be more opportunities to see him. They’d pass each other in the halls, or collaborate on a patient’s care, but she’d grown used to working in general practice and wouldn’t leave it for anything, or anyone. Besides, her days were busy and went by quickly, and before long she’d see him again.

By the time they pulled up in front of the airport, they’d discussed Richard’s recent surgeries, Sylvia’s clinical success rate with a new hypertension drug, and had arranged to set three more dates in the coming month, based on Richard’s schedule. He warned her that sometimes he may have to cancel at the last minute if the hospital needed him, or a surgery took longer than expected. But of course, she understood. A small part of her, though, wished he could join her in Melbourne for the conference so they could spend five nights together. Oh well, at least she’d get to catch up with some old friends from medical school.

‘Have a good flight, see you next Thursday.’ Richard effortlessly lifted the suitcase from the boot, extending the handle and rolling it towards her with surgical precision.

‘Thanks, enjoy the birthday party.’ Sylvia curved her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Short thick curls slid between her fingers as she moved her hand through the back of his hair.

Beep beep!

A car behind was waiting to take Richard’s spot, the driver motioning with his hand as if to say, ‘Are you going anytime soon?’ Richard nodded towards the driver, kissed Sylvia quickly on the lips, and returned to the car before driving off.

Check-in was relatively quick, and despite setting off the alarm at the security screening point with the metal in her shoes, Sylvia had forty-five minutes to spare before boarding her flight. The aroma of roasted coffee beans enticed her to the café next to the newsagent. She picked up a copy of
MasterChef
magazine first, then ordered a large cappuccino, opting for takeaway so she could wander around, keeping the blood circulating in her legs after the car trip and before the upcoming ninety minute flight.

It was nice to be among the crowd, nobody knowing who she was. Sylvia loved the homely feel of Tarrin’s Bay, but sometimes it was nice to be anonymous. Almost everyone in town knew her, and as a respected member of the community she made sure she always gave a good impression, and never lost her cool while waiting in a queue or stuck in traffic. Sylvia valued her reputation highly, and felt a responsibility to set a good example and be a respected role model. It was easy anyway. She wasn’t a ‘party-girl’ or an outgoing eccentric, but a sensible, independent, thirty-four-year-old woman who had worked hard to get to where she was.

After checking the time, Sylvia sat in a seat at gate eighteen to await the boarding call. The plane arrived outside the window and, almost hypnotised, her eyes followed the luggage handlers heaving the bags from the plane to the carts. Passengers filtered into the airport through the doorways, and those waiting for the flight shuffled in their seats, pulling out boarding passes from their pockets. Some stood, preparing to line up for the boarding announcement. Sylvia remained still. No rush. She didn’t understand why people always tried to get in first. Everyone would get to their seat eventually. Plus, having chosen an aisle seat, there’d be no point rushing, as the passengers allocated seats next to hers would only have to clamber over her.

The herd of people filtering in from the plane dissolved gradually into the crowd, some walking quickly, others stopping to yawn and stretch. Sylvia wondered what each was doing in Sydney. She amused herself by trying to guess who might be arriving home and who was simply visiting. Perhaps some had bought a one-way ticket and were staying.

Then her heart skipped a beat.

A young woman entered the airport, placing iPod earphones into her ears, the thin white cords trailing down to her pocket. She smiled at the flight attendant as she walked past, and stopped to glance around, as if wondering which direction to go. The woman had a youthful radiance about her, a sense of excitement, like she was stepping into the world for the first time. She resumed walking, her head bobbing rhythmically to whatever music she was listening to, curly tendrils of hair bouncing happily about her face. Red curls, not orangey-red, but warm russet-like red curls…

Just like hers.

It was as though Sylvia was looking into a mirror, a younger image of herself reflected back. Like seeing her own ghost.

As if connected by the similarities in their appearance, Sylvia stood and followed the young woman. She walked behind her in the crowd, until the woman stopped to admire a dress in a shop window; a long, floaty summer dress, with large pink and purple flowers printed on it. Not Sylvia’s style at all, but the woman seemed inspired by it. She took out her phone and snapped a picture of it.

Strange.

A smile growing on her face, the woman entered the shop, walking out a few minutes later with a large plastic bag in her hand. Sylvia couldn’t remember the last time she’d bought an outfit on a whim like that. Her purchases were always planned with purpose; crisp plain shirts, sensible heels, black, navy, or cream tailored pants for work, and casual jeans, t-shirts, and knit tops for weekends.

She continued following the woman and waited again while she stopped to sample hand cream at a beauty shop.

Should she approach her?

But what would she say?

Sylvia now felt incredibly silly, following a complete stranger. It was just her mind playing tricks. They weren’t really
that
similar. Their hair was practically identical, but the woman lacked Sylvia’s height, although her build was the same: small-chested and big-hipped.

‘Final boarding call for Dr Sylvia Greene. Dr Sylvia Greene to gate eighteen please.’ The voice beamed through the airport speaker system and Sylvia’s eyes jumped wide open.

Oh God, my flight!

How could she not have heard the first boarding call? She spun around and headed in the direction of gate eighteen, then turned back around.

The woman was gone.

Part of her wanted to continue through to the baggage terminal but that would be crazy. She had to go. Shaking the moment of insanity from her head, Sylvia ran in as dignified a way as possible to the boarding gate where an attendant was just about to block off the entrance with rope.

A minute later she sat puffing in her seat on the plane.

‘Hi there, I’m Wayne,’ the elderly man next to her said as he held out his hand. ‘What do you do for a living, love?’

‘I’m a doctor,’ Sylvia replied.

‘Oh, really?’ The man twisted in his seat, sidling up close to her. ‘I might have to pick your brain then, you see, I’ve got this problem with…’

Sylvia released a gentle sigh as Wayne told her his medical history and current symptoms. He was probably a relative of Mr Benson’s.

This was going to be a dreadfully long ninety minutes.

When the man seated on the other side of Wayne got involved in the conversation after mentioning that he too had suffered with unrelenting tinea for years, Wayne twisted to face him and they proceeded to discuss the fungal infection in detail. Sylvia took the golden opportunity to close her eyes and pretend to be asleep. She’d flip through the
MasterChef
magazine on the flight home next week instead.

Her mind drifted back to that woman’s face, and the way her hair stood out from the crowd like a sunset on the horizon. Then she saw herself back at the Wishing Festival, tossing a coin into the fountain.

Making a wish one day, stalking a stranger the next—what had gotten into her? Maybe she was working too hard. Maybe the ten days she took off over Christmas weren’t enough. Or maybe a hidden part of her was surfacing, trying to come to terms with what she did all those years ago.

The medical conference was a welcome distraction; immersed in technical data and surrounded by other doctors, Sylvia almost forgot about her life back home and the crazy things she’d been doing. But time flew by, Thursday morning soon arrived and she was back at work.

‘Welcome back, how was the conference?’ asked Joyce.

‘Not bad, a little depressing though, which is kind of ironic considering it was a mental health conference,’ replied Sylvia. ‘But it was interesting, and nice to catch up with old friends.’

‘Well, we’re glad you’re back. Dr Bronovski has been worked to the grindstone without you here. We’ve had an influx of sick children lately.’

‘Oh dear.’ Sylvia’s shoulders sunk. ‘Well, I better get started.’ She turned towards her room.

‘Oh Sylvia, before you disappear, management called. They’ve decided on a new practitioner for the spare room, he’ll be starting next week.’

Tarrin’s Bay Medical Clinic had just the two doctors, along with a physiotherapist, but the other room had become available when the dermatologist left three months ago.

‘Please tell me it’s a paediatrician? It has to be a paediatrician.’ Sylvia leaned forward onto the reception desk.

It’s not that she didn’t like children, she just felt…uncomfortable working with them. She preferred patients you could reason with, who kept still, and didn’t have bodily fluids escaping out of various orifices without warning. Plus, as the only female general practitioner in town, parents flocked to her, probably expecting that her supposedly inbuilt maternal instinct would somehow make her a better doctor for their children.

‘Nope, no paediatrician I’m afraid,’ said Joyce. ‘A naturopath and acupuncturist will be joining the team.’

‘A what?’

‘A naturopath and acupuncturist. Mark Bastian, he’ll be in tomorrow to set up the room.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ Sylvia looked at Joyce’s unblinking eyes and knew she wasn’t. ‘A paediatrician would have been
so
good, or even a psychologist, but a
naturopath
? I thought this was a medical centre.’

‘C’mon Sylvia, you’ve got to get with the times! And anyway, I hear he gets great results with his patients. He’ll be an asset to the centre.’

Sylvia grumbled under her breath, shuffling off to her room and grabbing her mail on the way through.

Just as she feared, her day was filled with sick children, anxious parents, and the odd minor injury and infected boil. Three quarters of her time was spent with existing patients, the rest were newcomers. If work kept betting busier she’d have to close her books for a while, or work longer hours, something she wasn’t keen on. Sylvia loved her job, but some days were a challenge. Though the thought of seeing Richard tonight kept her going. She should be able to get home with enough time to prepare a simple salmon and dill pasta dish before he arrived. One of her regular weekday meals. Quick, easy, and tasty. Plus Richard was a big fan of seafood.