Heather stood and extended her hand. “I’m Heather. Nice to meet you, and I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances,” she said. Davo shook her hand, taking her in.
“I’m David. You must be a ballet dancer, if you’re a friend of Marcus’s,” he said. “And is that an American accent I hear?” Marcus’s shoulders tensed under his shirt. Of course his brother could manage to speak about ballet with some semblance of respect when there was a beautiful woman involved.
“It is.” She smiled at him politely, then cast a sparkling conspiratorial grin at Marcus. “Although I’m working on my Australian slang. Do they call you...Davo?”
“They do,” Davo chuckled, settling himself into the seat next to her. Marcus kept his eyes on the floor to avoid glaring at his brother.
“Leanne Campbell?” a woman’s voice called from across the room.
“That’s me,” his mother called back, raising one hand in the air. “This shouldn’t take long,” she said to Marcus and the others.
A young nurse in light pink scrubs approached, holding a clipboard. “We’re ready for you now, I can take you back,” she said to Leanne. “Can you walk on your own?”
“I most certainly can,” his mum replied. She made to stand, and Marcus and Davo both flinched. Marcus leapt to his feet and offered Leanne his hand.
“Would you all relax? I’m fine.” Marcus did his best impression of the sceptical squint she’d just given him, and she shook her head at him.
“All right, all right,” she relented, placing her hand in Marcus’s and leaning on it as she rose to her feet. “You can go, if you want, I’ll be right to get myself home.”
Marcus rolled his eyes as he sat down. “Yeah, right. We’ll be here, Mum,” he said to her retreating back.
Once she was gone, Heather stood, and Marcus saw Davo’s eyes flick up and down the back of her body with naked interest. Marcus gritted his teeth.
“I’m going to get myself another coffee, would anyone like one?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” Marcus said quickly, and Davo nodded gratefully. Heather picked up her shoulder bag and headed around the corner, where a sign advertised a café with “hot coffee and lite bites.” He’d never been so glad to see her go.
Marcus and his brother sat in silence for a few moments. With Heather and his mum gone, he was more aware of the sounds of the waiting room, and he shifted against the hard plastic chair, trying to get comfortable.
“Guess it wasn’t a fucking emergency,” Davo said eventually.
“Guess not,” Marcus agreed, “but I’m glad you called me. I wouldn’t want her waiting here alone.”
“Yeah, me neither. And maybe this’ll make her see reason about the house.”
Marcus shook his head. Davo was nothing if not single-minded. “Don’t you think you should give it a rest for now? She’s just had a fall, and she’s shaken up.”
“Right, she’s just had a fall, because she’s not safe on her own in the house anymore. This is the perfect time to talk to her about how to stop this from happening again. What if something worse happens next time?”
“It’s not a good time.”
“She could’ve broken a hip. She could’ve hit her head and blacked out, or—”
“But she didn’t,” Marcus said, unwilling to tell Davo he’d been gripped by the very same fears. “I agree we need to talk to her, but not now. Let’s get her home and get the place cleaned up, and we can bring it up in a little while. Just don’t badger her about it right away.”
“Fine,” Davo agreed tersely. Another moment of silence, in which the TV in the corner played an ad with a grating jingle and a small boy with what looked like a broken arm asked his father if hospitals had lollipops like doctor’s offices did. When Davo spoke again, there was a sly lilt in his voice.
“So, tell me about the lovely Heather.”
Marcus clenched his jaw. He’d rather go back to arguing about the house. “She’s a guest artist at ANB,” he said shortly, hoping his tone would ward off any follow-up questions.
“Straight?” Davo asked, sounding hopeful.
“Yes.”
“Single?”
“Technically,” Marcus gritted out.
