The January Wish Read Online Free PDF

that she never had to wonder what to wear each day. Five different outfits were washed, ironed, and ready to wear by Monday morning, hanging on wooden hangers labelled with a day of the week. She estimated that other women who weren’t as organised as her probably wasted an average of 60.66 hours per year deciding what to wear. That was enough time for a solid week of work, or a relaxing holiday!
    At precisely eight-fifteen, she’d lock the house, wave to Nancy Dillinger peering through her window, and walk to work. Fifteen minutes there and back each day, combined with her morning swim, was enough exercise to maintain her figure. Although she’d probably have to add in a session at the gym to counteract last night’s cake and coffee. But she was making up for last night’s binge by eating a healthy albeit a little overripe banana while walking to work.
    ‘Good morning,’ said a bright-eyed Joyce when Sylvia opened the door to the clinic. It always seemed as if Joyce was a permanent fixture behind the reception desk, or at least on her chair, which rolled here and there as she manoeuvred her way around the desks and filing cabinets without needing to stand.
    Ironically, Joyce chose that moment to stand. ‘Here’s your mail.’ She placed the envelopes into Sylvia’s unoccupied hand and followed her towards the hallway. ‘And I’d like you to meet our new practitioner, Mark Bastian.’ Joyce gestured towards the spare room where a man was kneeling down, opening a cardboard box on the floor. Sylvia had forgotten the new guy was settling in today.
    At Joyce’s introduction, he stood and turned, his blue eyes meeting Sylvia’s, the halogen lights adding a glow to his warm coffee-coloured skin.
    Oh God! Sylvia’s face flushed with warmth.
    ‘We meet again,’ Mark said, holding out his hand and grinning.
    All Sylvia could do was nod, tucking the envelopes under her armpit in order to give a limp shake of his hand. If she hadn’t gone out last night in her moment of heartbreak, she wouldn’t have met him, and they would have been introduced today without any fuss. But she’d let her professional guard down and somehow she felt…exposed.
    ‘You two know each other?’ Joyce glanced from Sylvia’s face to Mark’s and back again, waiting for a response.

Chapter 7
    ‘Well, not really, but —’ Sylvia began, until the awkward introduction was gratefully interrupted by a knocking on the front door. The clinic wasn’t due to open for another twenty minutes or so, but a frantic looking mother holding a screaming baby begged to be let in.
    The screaming amplified when Joyce unlocked the door, putting an arm around the mother and ushering her towards Sylvia’s room. It was Marisa, a single mother Sylvia had been treating since she got pregnant unexpectedly a year ago.
    So much for a relaxing coffee before the onslaught of patient arrivals.
    ‘I don’t know what’s wrong, he won’t stop crying!’ Marisa said above the screaming. ‘I’ve fed him, changed him, and cuddled him. Can you help?’ Marisa’s eyes were moist and her chin quivered.
    Sylvia did her best to examine the little one as he squirmed around. ‘When was his last bowel movement?’ She palpated his abdomen.
    ‘A couple of hours ago I think, and last night.’
    ‘But no diarrhoea?’
    ‘No.’
    The baby winced as Sylvia placed the cold stethoscope on his abdomen. Nothing wrong there, although his little stomach muscles pulsed in and out from the crying. She placed a hand on his warm forehead, his face and neck red as he wailed. ‘I’ll check his temperature,’ Sylvia said, turning to get the digital thermometer. She instructed Marisa to hold him still while she tugged his ear backwards and inserted the end of the thermometer. It wouldn’t go through all the way, so she pulled it out and shone a pen light into the baby’s ear.
    ‘I know why your baby is crying, Marisa.’ Sylvia turned the pen light off momentarily and smiled. Marisa