Chapter Ten
Julia’s Federation house, built earlier than the rendered and painted shops and houses in the main street, has caramel-coloured bricks and sage green fretwork. The pillars at the entrance are adorned with oversized red bows and golden bells. One bell on the left and one on the right.
What would I be seeing if not for Julia?
Eye misalignment, strabismus, can last forever without proper treatment.
I had estropia, a type of horizontal strabismus, where my right eye pointed inwards.
Going by photos, mostly daycare and school photos because my parents didn’t approve of cameras or phones on account of the batteries (their manufacture and disposal), my right eye was misaligned when I was two.
When I was four, the inward turn was more evident.
By the time I was six and attending primary school in Summerfield, my pupil sat firmly in the corner of my eye.
A teacher told my parents they should take me to a doctor.
They declined the direction: We love her just the way she is .
When I was seven, my parents were informed my vision was deteriorating. I was increasingly clumsy and sometimes I saw double. They countered: She’s doing well at school.
The school had a duty to report possible neglect, which they did. Social services contacted Dr McLeod, who got in touch with my parents. Predictably, they said: We don’t want medical intervention.
I wasn’t part of the discussions, but only a curtain separated my bedroom from my parents’.
In Summerfield, back then, my parents had cheap rent, selling eggs gave them an income, and they were passionate about closing the open-cut mine.
They didn’t want to leave, so had to make concessions: If they think she has a problem, let them fix it.
Strabismus presents in a lot of different ways but the effect it had on me was that, eventually, I started to see two of everything.
I managed to read, but I found it difficult to catch a ball and even if someone didn’t trip me deliberately, I’d be more likely to fall over a step or a crack in the footpath or something I might’ve imagined might be a crack even though it was only a shadow.
After a while, the brain tells the eye that’s causing the problem it’d be better for that eye to switch off entirely.
The eye, over time, does what the brain tells it to do.
To stop you seeing double, the eye switches off.
You lose vision in that eye.
Glasses and exercises can correct strabismus by training the problem eye to straighten.
Julia wasn’t a paediatric ophthalmologist, but she made sure I was tested by the best in the district.
She wasn’t an orthoptist, who would have given me exercises and monitored me month to month, but she consulted with one and worked with me herself.
She wasn’t an optometrist, who could adjust my glasses regularly to strengthen muscles in my eye so the pupil could look right and left and straight ahead, but she drove me to one.
I was a kid. Being in a car with an adult, a doctor my parents didn’t approve of, was awkward. Julia was also Cameron’s mother and that was awkward too. My fascination for him was complicated. I competed with him. I hated him. I had a crush on him.
Tall viburnum hedges grow either side of the gravel driveway that leads to Julia’s house, and I follow them to a parking area.
A slender grey-haired woman, dressed in pale blue and leaning on a stick, walks slowly down the verandah steps and waits as I jump out of my ute.
It’s only when I get close that I recognise her.
‘Amelie.’ She holds out her hands. ‘Welcome.’
In the past few months, we’ve communicated in courteous emails. We talked once on the phone. But all of a sudden, words aren’t enough. She wouldn’t have been allowed to hug me when I was a child, but now we’re both adults. I wrap my arms around her delicate frame, and she hugs me back.
‘Thank you.’
She pulls away slowly. ‘No thanks necessary.’
I talk through my tears. ‘You always said that.’
‘You’re even more lovely than I imagined you’d become.’ Julia would be in her late sixties, but frailty has aged her. She takes my hands. ‘Perfection.’
‘My eyes are straight thanks to you.’
She holds my arm tightly as we take the steps to the verandah. I try not to look at her too closely but—
‘Yes, I’m a little on the slender side, but stronger than I was.’ She pauses at the top of the steps and pats my arm. ‘I have a neurological condition which, with luck, won’t kill me for many years to come. Modern medicine. Where would we be without it?’
Julia’s back verandah looks over a garden. Two tall gums, vibrant green hedges, roses, hydrangeas and a vegetable patch.
‘What a beautiful outlook.’
‘I miss tending the garden, but I do love to look at it.’
Jimmy, the man with the bedraggled straw hat I’d met outside the surgery, charges out of a small greenhouse and waves. ‘Won’t be long, ladies!’
Julia directs me to a glass-topped cane table and matching chairs, and we sit opposite each other. ‘Have you recovered from yesterday’s illness?’ she asks.
‘Didn’t Cameron—’
‘I couldn’t get a word out of him, nor Anna for that matter, so I assumed it was a medical issue.’ She winks. ‘My children know I would have peppered them with questions.’
‘Primary dysmenorrhoea. I’m fine today.’
Jimmy, in gardening greens and wearing clean if very old work boots, approaches the table with a tray. A pot of tea, cups and saucers and a lemon cake.
‘How’re you settling into Summerfield?’ he asks.
‘Very well, thank you.’
‘I hope you medical types appreciate my efforts with morning tea.’
Julia laughs. ‘Anyone would think you’d baked the cake.’
‘My domestic skills have improved no end of late.’
‘As you’re on light duties for another two weeks,’ Julia says, ‘perhaps I should teach you to cook.’
Jimmy huffs. ‘I’ll be getting your garden to rights soon enough.’
‘Cam will do the hedging,’ Julia says firmly. ‘That’s my final word.’
‘I’ve got a bad back from my landscaping days,’ Jimmy explains, before walking stiffly down the steps and back to the greenhouse.
‘There’s a bench in there, so he doesn’t have to bend,’ Julia says.
‘Jimmy works here every day?’
‘I’d pay sick leave, but he’d never accept it. He likes to keep busy.’
‘Does he have a family?’
‘Since he lost his wife Florrie, we are his family.’ Julia needs the strength of both hands to lift the teapot.
‘Can I help?’
‘Certainly not.’ She softens the words with a smile. ‘This business with Dr Brown has been a shock. I’m sorry you’ve been tied up in it.’
‘Cameron told me he’s unwell.’
‘The poor man is dying, but he’s left me in a difficult situation. Part time in the practice will be all I can manage. I was relying on rental income from the other terrace to keep this place going.’
‘Is that so important?’
‘Sometimes Cam is too discreet. He hasn’t told you, has he?’
I place my hands in my lap, cover the left with the right. I’ve had a confusing day. ‘We haven’t spoken about anything much.’
Julia looks down at her plate but then back at me.
‘Losing Malcolm unexpectedly was extremely distressing for me and the children, but that distress was compounded by the financial matters that came to light afterwards. Before his death, Malcolm had made investments—risky investments that failed dismally. The assets he had, together with his superannuation and mine, were used to pay his debts. This house, thankfully, could be saved, but I can only continue to maintain it if I have my own, and rental, income.’
‘Is that why you were so keen to keep the vet practice going and find a permanent replacement for Dr Brown? To maximise the rent.’
‘Yes, which is where you came in.’ She sips from her cup. ‘Cam has stepped in to sort out the mess Dr Brown left behind, but that will cause further delay.’
‘I could pay more rent.’
‘You’re already building up the practice, for which I am extremely grateful. I understand you’ve found several clients already.’
I check my watch. ‘I vaccinate a pig and her piglets at twelve.’
‘My part-time work isn’t adequate to provide the medical services this town deserves. That’s another problem.’
‘Could you find another doctor to bring into the practice?’
‘I’ve advertised high and low. If only country doctors grew on trees!’
‘I know a few doctors from when I was at uni. I’ll ask around.’
When Cameron, a battered Akubra shading his face, pushes a wheelbarrow filled with tools along the path, Jimmy walks from the greenhouse and the men shake hands. But when Jimmy reaches for a hoe, Cameron gets there first. They talk, a friendly argument, before Jimmy stomps back into the greenhouse.
‘Why isn’t Cameron a doctor?’
I’m not sure where the words come from but once they’re out, I’m glad I’ve asked the question.
After a curious glance, Julia refills our cups. ‘After completing a year of medicine,’ she finally says, ‘he left university and came back to Summerfield.’
I shouldn’t ask because this is none of my business but … ‘Why did he do that?’
‘I assume he didn’t find what he was looking for.’
And what exactly was that? I push the thought aside. ‘He must have missed his family.’
‘Particularly CJ.’ Julia sits back in her chair. ‘Anna had a hard time of it after his birth.’
‘She told me CJ’s father didn’t hang around.’
‘On top of that, Anna had post-natal depression. Cameron finished school and spent the next four months looking after CJ.’
‘No wonder they’re close.’
‘In time, Anna recovered, but Cameron came home whenever he could and picked up where he’d left off. He’s always been a part of CJ’s life.’ She leans forward in her chair. ‘Do you know what CJ stands for?’
‘I’ve never asked.’
‘CJ is Jackson Cameron McLeod on his birth certificate, but he’d always adored Cam, and he had his colouring. We took to calling him Cameron Junior. CJ stuck.’
‘It suits him.’