She needed to check on him, she told herself. She needed to know who this man was. She might instinctively believe him, but she was trusting him with her patients and the medical board would look pretty darkly at someone who just stood aside and let a quack take over their duties.

And one phone call was all it took, to a long-time friend who was an anaesthetist at Sydney Central.

‘You have Jonas Lunn working for you?’ Dominic’s voice from the staffroom at the Sydney hospital was an incredulous squeak. ‘Em, the man is brilliant. Brilliant! He’s been offered a plum teaching job overseas and the powers that be here are already wondering how we can fill his shoes. He’s the best-as well as being one of the most caring professionals I’ve ever worked with!’

Now, how had she known he’d say that?

‘You hang on to him,’ Dominic said seriously. ‘Em, if he’s offering to help, you take all the help you can get.’

Hmm. Maybe. He was only here for the day, she told herself.

So with a struggle she hauled her muddled thoughts into order and sallied forth to once again become Bay Beach’s sole doctor.

But she was no longer sole doctor. Jonas wasn’t giving the position up lightly.

‘Go home,’ he growled as she opened the surgery door and peeped in. ‘I’m busy.’

He was, too. Young Lucy Belcombe, nine years old and accustomed to lurching from one catastrophe to another, was now suffering from a greenstick fracture of the forearm. Jonas had the X-ray up on the screen so Em could see at a glance what was happening. Jonas was applying a last layer of plaster as Lucy’s mother watched, and Mrs Belcombe was obviously deeply impressed that such a splendid-looking male was taking care of her daughter.

These people don’t even know for sure Jonas is a doctor, Em thought in a little indignation.