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“You mean like job sharing?” Alex asked.

“Yes,” Shirley answered. “My daughter lives in Darwin and that’s what she does with a friend. They both have children and don’t want to work full time so they share the one job.”

“It is not up to us to make that decision,” Mack said folding his arms across his chest. “We’d have to submit a proposal to be approved by the town clerk and he’s away until Monday. And anyway the doctor’s cottage is barely big enough for one person let alone two.”

Alex turned to face him. “Has it got two bedrooms?” she asked.

“Yes but—”

“I’m prepared to give it a try if you are,” she said. “As Shirley said it’s only for six months. We can both work part-time and then if there’s anything serious to handle we can help each other out.”

Mack silently ground his teeth. The last thing he needed was a housemate, especially one as attractive as Alexandra MacDonald. Living with someone blurred the boundaries. He liked his own space, especially now. The court case over the death of Isaac Freeman had hit him hard. Coming out to Kingfisher Crossing was part of his personal rehabilitation program. He’d figured that this far out in the bush there would be no distractions so he could concentrate on getting himself back on track. But then job sharing might very well be the way to get some more time to himself, he thought. He could do some bushwalking, chill out a bit instead of thinking about work all the time.

“I think it sounds like a good arrangement to me,” Shirley said, “Just lately there’ve been a couple of clinic break-ins between here and Marraburra. Having two doctors on sight will be much safer all round until the police catch the culprit. I’ll let Tony Hallum the town clerk know about it. I bet he’s the one who made the mistake about the appointment. He’s far too old for the job but what can you do?”

“No,” Mack insisted. “I’ll speak to Mr Hallum myself on Monday. In the meantime Dr MacDonald can stay for the weekend until a formal decision is made.”

“I guess it might be confusing for the patients though, mightn’t it?” Alex said. “I mean, we both have the same name.”

“My name isn’t Alexandra,” he said with a little curl of his lip.

Her chin went up even higher. “Nor is mine.”

“What is it then?”

“Alexandria,” she said. “But everyone calls me Alex.”

“I’m Alexander but everyone calls me Mack,” he returned.

Alex couldn’t help thinking he looked exactly like a Mack. It was an abrupt, matter-of-fact sort of name, no hint of softness about it. But then she suspected there was little softness in his personality. Even his features had a hard edge to them, his jaw though lean and chiseled and cleanly shaven had an unmistakable hint of intractableness about it. He was clearly a man used to getting his own way. His riveting grey-blue eyes had a gleam of cynicism in them and his mouth looked as if it found the task of smiling both tiresome and unnecessary.

“So,” she said, giving him an arch look. “When do we start?”