By Warrigal Mirriyuula

Beryl had boiled the kettle and their tea was now brewing while she made some sandwiches. This morning’s shopping had taken a little longer than they thought and so it would be a light lunch rather than tea and a bun.

Alice had gone quiet since their almost encounter with Doc and Gruber, and Beryl was casting around in her mind for a way to broach the subject anew, perhaps help her friend get to grips with what Beryl now thought of as the “The Doc Problem.”

Alice’s quiet ruminations got there first and out of the blue she began to list the items on the positive side of the ledger.

“I have enormous professional respect for Doc.” She said nodding with that respect, “You know I trained and worked at RPA,” she knew whereof she spoke, “well Doc is a better diagnostician and a better physician than any I met there. Molong is very lucky to have him.” Alice pursed her lips, paused momentarily, as if hooking up the next component of her analysis. “He’s got a generous nature and a terrific bed side manner.” This last attribute though, was somewhat problematic, but she’d deal with that later. “He really does care for his patients, both bodily and spiritually.” Lips pursed again; “Hmmm”, that wasn’t quite right. Doc was known for denying the role of the spirit in human affairs. The care and curing of the body, the defeat of the various ails and ills it’s prone to, a matter of science and skill according to Doc. “Apart from his “godlessness” he’s a good man.”

“Godlessness,” Alice was surprised at the vehemence with which Alice had imbued the word and just had to jump in. “I wouldn’t say Doc was “Godless”. I think he believes in his own way.” but she wasn’t so sure about this. Maybe Doc was agnostic, but she wasn’t about to start the negative ledger with an uncertainty. “It might be that God works through Doc without permission.” Beryl looked over at her friend hoping her little joke might have lightened her mood. It hadn’t, so she continued, “Anyway, isn’t the important thing that he’s a good man and a wonderful doctor? His patients all love him. There are some women in this town that see Doc as some kind of Christ like figure.”

Beryl smiled as she and Alice both pictured Mrs. D, who even now would be putting the finishing touches to a meal fit for a vice regal dinner, let alone a Monday lunch for two doctors.

“I don’t think this has anything whatsoever to do with God Alice. He didn’t make the rules you’re applying to Doc.” Beryl said speculatively. She went on to explain, “When I was a young girl on the farm, even before I went to school, I loved the bible stories Mum and Dad read to me at bedtime. It seemed there was always a lamb in the story and I thought how lucky I was to be surrounded by lambs. To me it was as if Jesus was everywhere.” Beryl smiled inwardly as she remembered those pre-war days filled with sunshine and innocence. “That’s remained the shape of my faith ever since. Jesus is everywhere working with the faithful to do better and helping those who have lost the way, or never found it. Doc isn’t “Godless” Alice. That would mean that God had abandoned him and I can’t believe for a moment that Doc’s skill and knowledge aren’t God given.” It wasn’t usual for Beryl to interrogate her faith like this. She liked the stories, hers was a narrative faith and the more she thought about it the more certain she was that Doc’s story seemed to fit the mould; a good man struggling with life to find meaning and purpose. Besides, she was married to a good man who had trouble with his faith, and with good reason, she’d always thought.

“All sorts of things happen in life. You meet all sorts. The good people you cherish. The bad ones you turn away from.” Beryl began to wonder herself where she might be leading with this. “People can be a bad lot, do terrible things. Compassion and forgiveness seem at the heart of it for me.” Yes, that was it! “Don’t you think you could be a little more forgiving towards Doc? After all, he can’t know the rules you’re failing him on.”

That was the truth of it, Alice thought as she heard again her mother’s vituperative hissing whisper in her ear, “Men are evil thoughtless creatures; manured pasture for the devil to grow discord and division. Drunkards, whoremongers and criminals, the lot of them.” It was painful to remember.

Alice began to cry as she further remembered her father going quietly to an early grave. Having married for love he then failed throughout that marriage to meet his wife’s high standards of Godliness and Christian rectitude; but he never stopped loving her and Alice had never heard him utter a single word of criticism or dissatisfaction. Alice remembered again as she often did in times of trouble, his gently holding her hands in his and telling her of the love he had always felt for her, how proud he was of her accomplishments in nursing; his body emaciated by disease, his face a hollow sepulchral mask animated only by the fire in his eyes as the cancer ate away at him leaving little but pale skin and the bone almost visible beneath that loose papery blue and white sack. He’d been a big man, well liked outside his family, respected even, in that way that quiet, uncomplaining hard workers are in a country town.

His diagnosis had prompted his suggestion that Alice attend the Royal Prince Alfred Nursing School. He’d worked right up to his final illness to pay for it; and suddenly, today, as the rain rattled on the iron roof of the pub, she realised why. As her parents’ marriage descended into a siege of attrition and the progress of her father’s disease continued inexorably, her father, in his usual quiet way, had been trying to free his beloved daughter from the malign influence of his demanding wife and the spectacle of a decaying and cankerous marriage. To provide her with an experience of the wider world, different people, to make the place in which Alice might find herself and begin to make her own decisions, free from her mother’s rules and constant criticism. And now here she was, a grown woman, both parents gone, and she was still applying her mother’s malignant rules to the only man she’d ever felt anything for. She couldn’t help her feelings; not her love for Doc or the uncertainty she felt about him. As she had always been she was torn between her parents, between her past and a possible future.

Bee laid a comforting arm over Alice’s shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be like this Alice. Why can’t you just tell him how you feel? It’s nonsense you saying you don’t know. You can’t even think about him without losing your composure.” She offered Alice her hankie to dry the small tears and they both settled to sip their tea and quietly eat their sandwiches.