Читать книгу: «The Doctor, His Daughter And Me», страница 2

‘I’ll be operating on Thursdays and consulting Fridays, with the option to do an extra theatre session on alternative Saturday mornings. I’ll stay overnight.’

‘Where are you planning to stay?’ she asked, purely out of curiosity.

‘I thought one of the motels. But if you can suggest anything better?’

She thought for a moment.

‘The Riverside is the best of the three motels in town. It’s off the highway and not far from the clinic.’ That was all the advice she was prepared to give.

‘Right. I’m staying over tonight, so I can check out the consulting rooms and meet with the manager to go through all the paperwork tomorrow morning. I can book in to the motel you suggested. I plan to head back about lunchtime.’

To his wife.

Tara wondered what she would think of her husband working away. But she certainly wasn’t going to delve into his personal life.

‘Can I pick you up and take you out to lunch before I leave?’

No way! What on earth was he thinking?

Tara tried not to let her disbelief show on her face and mustered a smile.

‘No, thanks, I’m busy all day tomorrow,’ she lied. ‘And I’m sure you’ll be keen to get home to your wife and family.’

‘Pardon?’

Hadn’t he heard her or didn’t he understand?

‘You’ll surely want to get home,’ she repeated.

‘To my wife and kids?’

Tara nodded.

‘That’s what I thought you said.’ His brow crinkled in a frown. ‘Of course—I shouldn’t have assumed you’d know.’

‘Know what?’

‘Shannay and I divorced over a year ago and she has custody of our daughter.’

He was waiting for a reaction but what did he expect? Should she express regret at the breakdown of his second marriage? This was too much for her to deal with. She’d had the idea, set in her mind, that Ryan would find the perfect woman, that he would have the perfect family. But divorce! It had never been in the equation.

‘Sorry,’ she finally said. ‘I heard you’d married again, but—’

‘To separate was the best option for both of us. We weren’t compatible and it wasn’t working out,’ he muttered.

He stood to leave. He was obviously uncomfortable talking about it.

‘I’ll get going, then,’ he added.

‘Yes. I work Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. so I’ll probably bump into you when you start your Friday sessions.’

Before she had a chance to recoil he leaned down and placed a brief kiss on her cheek, and his questioning eyes lingered on hers for a moment before he strode down the steps and headed for his car.

He’d certainly changed, but in a lot of ways was still the same Ryan Dennison she’d fallen in love with. That was all in the past, though, dead and buried.

But he was single.

Of course that didn’t alter anything, did it?

Seeing Tara again was like a rebirth.

Ryan had to deal with all the raw emotion, the painful memories, the turmoil of indecision he’d held inside for so long. To overcome the reality of the wretched, haunting past that intruded into his dreams, that followed him during every waking hour of every day, was a challenge he wasn’t sure he was ready for.

Did he blame himself?

How could he not?

He’d had control, he’d been at the wheel and his reflex reaction had resulted in the horrendous collision that had left Tara without the use of her legs.

The moment he’d realised Tara’s future had been snatched away from her he’d desperately wanted to turn back the clock. If he’d seen the kangaroo twenty seconds earlier, if he’d reacted faster, if the massive tree had been a few metres further along the road, if they’d left the party ten minutes earlier, if he hadn’t insisted they stop to buy a bottle of wine on the way home, if he could change places with her, if … There were so many ifs he thought he’d dealt with, but deep down he still nursed a guilt that was so sharp, it cut directly into his heart.

Visiting Tara had made him wish he’d tried harder to convince her she’d been more important to him than a career or money or a tribe of kids. He’d felt sure they could pick up the pieces, but had been rejected when Tara had told him her love had dried up. He’d been devastated, but in the end had genuinely believed he’d done what was best for them, what Tara wanted. She’d not wanted to even give him a chance to provide the love and caring he’d thought only he could give. Tara had been determined and immovable in her resolve that getting a divorce was the only way she could put the past behind her.

And, in a way, she’d been right.

She now had a fulfilled life with a satisfying job and she was more beautiful than ever. It wouldn’t surprise him if she had dozens of admirers and could have the pick of the bunch. In fact Ryan was surprised she hadn’t remarried.

But that was her business.

He had no right to interfere with what she’d worked so hard to achieve.

It wouldn’t be easy, but he’d just have to ignore the churning deep in his belly and the ache in his heart and get on with his own life. Thinking that there was even the remotest chance they could get back together was an aberration. Tara’s attitude to him had verified that.

Ryan slowed down as he reached the outskirts of the town. He suddenly felt exhausted. It had been a long day and he’d had an early start, which made the prospect of a hot cup of coffee and a soft bed very attractive.

The Riverside Motel, Tara had said.

He travelled slowly through Keysdale’s sleepy town centre until he saw a sign pointing east towards the river. After about half a kilometre the motel came into view, and he shifted his focus from ruminations about Tara to the practicalities of organising his accommodation for the night.

Two rows of tidy units nestled on the banks of the Keysdale River. Most had views of the lush green paddocks beyond and it was quiet, away from traffic noise and had an air of relaxed tranquillity about it.

He pulled up in front of the office, got out of his black sports car and stretched. He’d done too much driving that afternoon, and his right hip ached from the bursitis he got when he sat for too long. A bell above the office door tinkled as he opened it but there was no one inside. He gazed around, noting the tourist brochures advertising the history museum, a dairy called The Milk Factory, whitewater rafting and half a dozen local restaurants.

He took a double-take and grabbed a leaflet, but before he had a chance to look at it more closely a plump, middle-aged woman emerged from a back room.

She smiled and greeted him.

‘Hello, sir. Do you want a room?’

‘Yes, just for tonight.’ He explained his requirements for regular accommodation and they came to an arrangement.

‘Here’s your key. Your room’s nice and quiet with a wonderful view.’ She paused to take a breath. ‘Dinner is served from six-thirty to eight-thirty and there’s a menu in your room for breakfast orders.’

‘Thank you.’

The woman glanced at the leaflet he was still clutching in his hand.

‘Well worth a visit if you’ve time.’

‘Maybe next time,’ he said as he turned to leave.

‘Enjoy your stay, Mr Dennison.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ he said cheerily, trying to convince himself, but he knew he’d spend most of his spare time soul-searching.

Before he climbed into his car he had a closer look at the brochure.

THE MILK FACTORY.

EXPERIENCE A WORKING DAIRY FARM FIRST HAND

Ten kilometres south of Keysdale, on Hill Park Road.

He scrutinised the photo then unfolded the leaflet.

Open for tours. Devonshire teas.

10 a.m. to 5 p.m. weekends and public holidays

Dairy tours including real-life milking 3 p.m.

Proprietors: Graham and Jane Fielding

He hadn’t even noticed.

There would have been signs. How could he have missed them? He must have been so focused on seeing Tara he’d been oblivious to anything else.

But it made him think.

Were the Fieldings struggling to make ends meet?

Did Tara have to go out to work?

Did the accident have anything to do with their situation?

He felt discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

So much had changed in the years since he’d lost contact with Tara and her family. His ex-wife certainly had.

He drove to his unit, grabbed his briefcase and overnight bag and let himself in. He rummaged in a tiny cupboard above the sink, found a sachet of instant coffee and filled the kettle. When the brew was made, he opened the sliding door which led to the veranda. The setting sun cast long shadows across the river and a cow’s gentle mooing echoed in the quiet. He seemed to have the place to himself.

With time to think.

About Tara.

It was impossible to erase her, and all the reasons he’d fallen in love with her more than a decade ago, from his mind.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered, and her fighting spirit had not been dulled by circumstance or time.

It suddenly occurred to him that he’d found out what he needed to know—he still loved her.

But he didn’t have the faintest idea what to do about it.

After Ryan left, Tara needed some alone time to gather her thoughts, so she stayed on the veranda and watched a golden sun sink slowly towards the horizon.

Why?

Why now?

She’d mourned her decision to send Ryan away every day. The flame of her love for him still burned brightly, and seeing him again. It was like a dam bursting—as if time had stood still for those eight years and suddenly she was looking into the eyes of the man who, for her, would always be her soul mate.

How should she react?

He was divorced, but there was no way they could start again. She had a satisfying life she’d worked hard to achieve and Ryan had his life in the city. It shouldn’t be difficult to act cool and detached and very professional. After all she would rarely see him.

Yes … cool, detached and professional. She could do that.

Couldn’t she?

CHAPTER TWO

‘THE new orthopaedic surgeon starts today,’ said Kaylee, the young receptionist, as she operated the pneumatic lift that moved Tara’s wheelchair from her vehicle and placed it on the ground. Tara preferred to use her electric chair at work, as it provided greater manoeuvrability, but getting it on and off her vehicle was one of the few things she couldn’t manage herself and had reluctantly learned to live with.

‘I know.’ Tara had been counting the days and psyching herself up for her first meeting with Ryan in the workplace. None of the staff were aware of her history with him. Of course some of the close-knit community knew she’d been married, but Ryan was a city man, born and bred. He’d hated the idea of any kind of fuss and had always been a reluctant participant in their rare visits to the farm. And, the way she was feeling right now, it was a good thing. She didn’t want the burden of gossip to stress her any more than she was already. She certainly wasn’t prepared for a public airing of her past, which she’d spent the best part of the last eight years trying to forget.

Not yet. Not today.

She’d also had time to think about his visit to the farm two weeks ago and had pondered on his motives. In fact she’d questioned long and hard about why he would choose a job in Keysdale when not only did he hate rural life but he probably had the pick of any position he wanted?

The questions burned and she needed some answers … from Ryan.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the young receptionist.

‘And Jenny said he’s gorgeous.’

Kaylee positioned the wheelchair next to the driver’s seat and stood back as Tara used the strength in her arms to shift into it. The girl seemed oblivious to the flush of embarrassment that warmed Tara’s cheeks and prattled on.

‘Jen met him when he came down a couple of weekends ago. She said he’s really nice, as well as good-looking.’

‘What about the paediatrician? Isn’t she starting today as well?’

Tara was desperate to change the subject. She didn’t need to know that her ex-husband had already charmed at least one of the female staff, and probably the whole Saturday morning team.

‘Yeah, this afternoon. Val’s putting on a special lunch to welcome them both, and she’s asked their receptionist not to overbook on the first day so they’ll have time to meet us all.’

‘Oh.’

Tara had prepared herself for the possibility that she’d bump into Ryan at some stage during the day. The brand-new specialist offices, although housed in an extension to the GP clinic building, were separate and self-contained. They had their own reception area, procedure room and consulting suites, but the lunch room was shared. She’d planned to eat a sandwich in her room and catch up with her paperwork, but that wasn’t an option now. She’d be expected to make an appearance, at least.

Kaylee walked beside her as she steered through the self-opening doors and made her way to the busy waiting area, past Reception then to the doctors’ rooms beyond.

‘See you later,’ the teenager said as their paths diverged.

Tara nodded and forced a smile, eager to reach the privacy of her consulting room so she could take a minute or two to compose herself. She’d never had a panic attack at work and she wasn’t about to change that today.

Ryan scanned the room full of chattering staff but couldn’t see Tara. He lingered a moment in the doorway, taking in the table laden with a bounty of home-cooked food, but was soon approached by the principal doctor at Keysdale Medical Clinic, Rob Whelan. The man greeted Ryan with a welcoming grin.

‘I’ll introduce you to the mob, and then you can eat …’ his grin broadened ‘… and mingle.’

Rob reeled off a long list of names Ryan would never remember to associate with the endless stream of nodding, smiling faces. Then, his gaze automatically following his colleague’s, he turned, and it was as if the waters parted. People moved out of the way as Tara wheeled herself into the room with a barely suppressed scowl on her face and rosy colour in her cheeks.

‘And last but not least …’ Rob said, resting his hand lightly on Tara’s shoulder. ‘Dr Tara Fielding.’ He glanced at Ryan. ‘This is Ryan Dennison, our new visiting orthopaedic surgeon.’

Thank God Tara had reverted to her maiden name, averting a possible problem he hadn’t thought of until now.

At that moment Rob’s attention was taken by the timely arrival of Karin Hooper, the new paediatrician. Rob began the introduction ritual all over again, and Ryan was grateful the spotlight had moved away from him and Tara, who was still right next to him, waiting for her turn in the short queue for the food. She reluctantly shook his offered hand as he leaned over to talk to her.

‘I’m glad to finally meet you, Dr Fielding. I’ve heard so much about you.’ It was an attempt at humour to lighten Tara’s mood but he wasn’t sure if it had worked.

She answered him with a cool smile as she released his hand from a momentary grip of steel.

‘Ouch,’ he couldn’t help exclaiming.

‘Sorry.’ She was grinning now but still looked tense … guarded. ‘Sometimes I forget my own strength.’ She picked up two plates and handed one to Ryan, who promptly discarded the fleeting thought of offering to serve her food. He had much to learn.

‘How has your day been so far? Not too snowed under with Keysdale’s unique brand of orthopaedic problems?’ It was inconsequential small talk.

He laughed politely. ‘You mean crush fractures from being stepped on by livestock and strain injuries from overdosing on fencing?’

‘You’ve got the idea.’

While he was talking Ryan watched in wonder as Tara effortlessly multi-tasked, deftly moving her chair into impossibly small spaces while at the same time loading her plate with enough to feed a professional athlete.

She paused a moment and looked at his empty plate.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’ she asked.

‘Oh … er … yes.’ He stuttered his reply, not prepared to admit he’d been too busy watching her. After shouldering his way through the tightly packed occupants of the small lunch room, he began to select food from the abundance before him. By the time he’d filled his plate Tara had moved to the other side of the room and was deep in conversation with a woman he remembered, from her name tag, was a physiotherapist.

Balancing his plate in one hand, he headed in Tara’s direction but was stopped midway by a tap on his shoulder. He turned.

‘Sorry to desert you,’ Rob Whelan said amiably. ‘I wanted to have a word with you about the possibility of you doing some extra consulting—maybe on the Saturday mornings you’re not operating?’

If Ryan’s appointment book was anything to go by, the services of an orthopaedic surgeon in the town were desperately needed, but he was over-committed as it was.

‘I’m sorry, I’m on call at St Joseph’s one weekend in four, and …’ He hesitated, deciding whether Rob, a relative stranger, needed to know about the custody arrangements he had for access to his daughter. As it was, he only saw her one weekend a month, and that time was precious.

If things had been different … He sighed.

‘And?’ Rob raised his eyebrows, as if he sensed Ryan’s discomfort but his curiosity overrode tact. Maybe it was the country way—that everyone had a God-given right to know everyone else’s business. But it wasn’t Ryan’s way.

‘I have regular family commitments on most of my free weekends.’ His use of the word free was somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but the vague comment was all he was prepared to give at the moment. ‘And I think you’ll find things will settle down in a month or two, once I work through the backlog of referrals and start seeing follow-ups.’

Rob rubbed his chin and pressed his mouth into a thin line.

‘I thought as much.’ The older doctor’s grin reappeared. ‘But, you know, if your situation changes the offer stands.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

At that moment Ryan noticed Tara heading off, and he wanted to talk to her. He felt oddly jilted. But he didn’t have any claim on what she did.

‘If you’ll excuse me, I just want to …’ His voice trailed off as one of the other GPs in the practice cornered Rob Whelan and let Ryan off the hook. Ryan dumped his barely touched food onto the table to follow Tara, but she’d vanished in the space of a few seconds. He went in pursuit and found her room off the corridor leading to Reception.

He knocked quietly but there was no response.

Maybe she hadn’t gone back to her room.

He knocked again, a little louder.

‘Tara?’ He opened the door but her spacious office was empty. He glanced around and noted the modifications that had been made because of Tara’s disability. Shelves and cupboards were no higher than shoulder-height. There were two patients’ chairs but a notable absence of a seat for the doctor. The examination couch was also low, and the pedal that raised or lowered the bed had been modified to accommodate hand controls similar to those used for hospital beds. In fact just about everything in the room was reachable from a wheelchair.

He heard movement from behind a door on the far side of the room, and then the sound of a toilet flushing and water running. The door opened, apparently remote-controlled, and Tara wheeled herself into the room, concentrating on the small joystick that controlled the direction of her chair. She obviously hadn’t seen him as he stood quietly by the door.

He cleared his throat and the muscles of Tara’s shoulders visibly jerked. She scowled as blood rose to her neck and coloured her face.

‘What the—?’

‘Sorry, I knocked. Twice.’ He cleared his throat again.

‘Well, did you want to see me for something?’ Tara said after they’d eyeballed each other for what felt like an age but was probably less than twenty seconds.

‘I …’

What was supposed to be a relaxed greeting and a little ice-breaking chat on his first day working in the Keysdale clinic wasn’t working out the way he’d planned.

‘I just wanted to touch base … er … in a professional capacity, of course.’ He smiled uneasily. It sounded ridiculous now. ‘But you disappeared before I had time to say much more than hello just now.’

Tara tilted her head slightly and the steely look in her eyes blocked any access to what she was thinking. Then the expression on her face softened, as if she’d had a change of mind. It was too much to expect she’d had a change of heart.

‘You took me by surprise,’ she said bluntly. ‘I have a fairly rigid routine at work. It means I can use my time here the most efficiently.’ She hesitated.

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—’

‘You weren’t to know. After all, a good many years have passed since we last saw each other and a lot has happened since then. We’ve both been living our own lives and I’m not the same person I was back then.’

She was unable to hide her quick downward glance. He didn’t blame her for being bitter. Thoughts that had been tumbling through his mind over the last two weeks returned.

If he could change places with her, he would—a hundred times over; if he could turn back the clock; if only things had been different.

He felt totally helpless.

‘Yes.’ It wasn’t often Ryan was lost for words. He was now.

Tara fiddled with some papers on her desk, arranging them in a neat pile. Then she repositioned herself in her chair.

‘Well, while you are here, have you a minute to discuss a patient?’

‘Yes, of course.’

The atmosphere had definitely lightened. The tension of discussing the past evaporated like summer rain falling on hot asphalt.

‘Her name’s Pippa Morgan and I’ve asked her to make an appointment to see you but it could be a couple of weeks down the track. I’ve been told how busy you are, and that you’re booked up for the next month.’

‘Tell me about her.’

Tara swung around to face him.

‘She’s nineteen. Juvenile rheumatoid arthritis was diagnosed when she was six years old. She’s been managed by a rheumatologist from the early stages.’ Tara paused to take a breath. ‘Of course I’ve only known her as a teenager, and she’s been under the care of Liam Taylor for the past two years. She’s had just about every treatment in the book to control her pain and inflammation—non-steroidal anti-inflammatories, Prednisone, Methotrexate, a trial of a DMARD as well as joint injections.’

Ryan had treated many patients with the inflamed and sometimes deformed joints of the chronic rheumatic condition rheumatoid arthritis, but rarely saw children or young adults with the disease. Treatment by surgery was usually kept in reserve for when all else failed. And the bulk of his experience had been with the middle-aged and elderly.

‘Liam’s one of the best adult rheumatologists around.’

‘It was he who suggested she may need a hip replacement in the next year or two.’

‘And you want my opinion?’

‘That’s right.’

Their conversation was interrupted by Ryan’s mobile phone. He answered the call from his receptionist.

‘Sorry, there’s an emergency. A child with what sounds like displaced fractures of tib and fib.’ He looked at his watch and noted his busy afternoon consulting was due to start as well. ‘I’m going to have to go.’

‘Of course.’

‘We’ll talk about Pippa later.’ He paused in the doorway on his way out. ‘I’ll ring you.’

As Ryan strode down the corridor he tried to file thoughts of Tara Fielding deep in the back of his mind so he could focus totally on his work.

‘I’m taking two patient files with me tonight. Also, would you mind checking if we have a referral letter for a nineteen-year-old named Pippa Morgan—and have you typed out the theatre list for tomorrow?’ Ryan glanced at the wall clock behind his receptionist, eager to leave. He’d had an early start and a long day.

Liz extracted a file from the cabinet and leafed through a dozen sheets of paper before she found the letter Ryan had asked for.

‘Here it is. I’d have remembered if I’d scanned it into the computer records because I’d have made a file for her.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll just do you a photocopy.’

The efficient middle-aged woman smiled. She was a Keysdale local, and today was the first time he’d met her, but she’d certainly proved her worth. She seemed to have the ability to think and act one step ahead of him.

‘So you don’t trust me to return it?’

‘I’m sure you have the best of intentions but I know how busy doctors are.’

‘And it might get overlooked?’ He returned her smile.

‘Something like that.’ She handed him the copy of the letter as well as the theatre list, and jotted down the names of the patient files he’d laid on the counter. ‘And there’s one more thing.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I won’t be a moment,’ she said as she turned and headed for the back room, returning with a loaded plastic carry-bag. ‘You won’t need to think about what to eat this evening. There was so much food left over from the welcome party, and the girls didn’t want to waste it. Someone noticed you rushed off without touching your lunch so they thought you were a worthy recipient.’

Ryan took a quick peek in the bag and noted there was enough food to last for the next week.

‘Thanks, that’s a really kind thought, but I can’t possibly eat all of this.’

‘It’ll only get thrown away, so you might as well take it.’ He took the bag.

‘Okay, thanks, Liz. I’ll see you next week, then.’

When he arrived in the car park he offloaded the food and his gear in the back seat, climbed in and turned the key in the ignition. But instead of firing on the first turn the engine groaned and his state-of-the-art luxury car gave up.

‘Damn, this is the last thing I need,’ he muttered. He tried again with the same result, wondering if his usually reliable car had been interfered with. ‘The last thing I need …’ he muttered again, trying one more time to fire up the engine.

He phoned his roadside call-out service and was given the number of a local auto repair shop. When the mechanic arrived the news was not good.

During Tara’s busy afternoon every patient seemed to take longer than their allotted time, and at the end of her list she was running nearly an hour late. It was well past five o’clock. If she was running too late her parents worried. She understood why. The accident had fuelled what had become their almost obsessive concern about the safety of their only child, their precious, perfect, beautiful daughter—but it didn’t make her life any easier. No matter how many times she’d tried to persuade them she was capable of looking after herself they still waited up for her when she had the occasional date or night out with her friends. And she had to tell them where she was going, especially if she was driving on her own.

Right now she had to live with it. Tara owed her parents big-time and she didn’t want to cause them any more stress than they already had.

She packed her things in readiness to leave and headed to Reception. When she was barely out of her room Ryan burst through the outside door as if he was being pursued by a pack of rabid dogs. He’d certainly found a novel way of attracting attention.

‘Is there a taxi service in this town?’ he said in a voice laced with frustration and impatience.

Tara wheeled slowly closer, but Ryan hadn’t noticed her and went on without waiting for a reply.

‘My car won’t start. There’s something wrong with the ignition system and it needs to be towed to the local garage to be repaired—’

‘I’ve got some jump leads in my car if that’s any help,’ Jenny offered.

Ryan sighed. ‘I wish … Apparently the computer and security system is so complicated you need an auto electrician to reset and reconnect it, even if it’s simply a flat battery. Which won’t happen until tomorrow.’

Some of the edginess had gone from Ryan’s voice and he looked worn out. He’d obviously had a busy day and it appeared it wasn’t going to get any better.

Tara was at the counter now.

‘I’m just leaving and can drop you off. Taxis here are notoriously unreliable unless you make an advance booking. Where are you staying?’

Ryan looked stunned, as if Tara was the last person he’d expected to see, let alone offer a simple solution to his predicament.

‘Ahh …’

Three sets of eyes were fixed on him, waiting for a reply, and Tara began to wonder if her offer was a mistake.

‘You could help me with my chair.’ Tara was the one to break the uncomfortable silence.

‘I’m at the Riverside. I could probably walk, but I have a lot of gear to transport.’ He hesitated. ‘And it would just be for tonight. A hire car is being delivered to the motel in a couple of hours.’ His expression softened. ‘Thanks, Dr Fielding.’

When they reached her car Tara couldn’t help noticing Ryan’s gaze drift to her legs and then to the hand controls of the car. Suddenly she felt she had something to prove to Ryan—that she could manage perfectly without him. She didn’t want pity, or sympathy, or even admiration. She just wanted her ex-husband to accept her for who she was.

‘What do I need to do to get your chair into the car?’ he said, after he’d moved a couple of plastic crates, his medical case and two supermarket carry-bags from the boot of his now useless car to the back seat of her vehicle.

Good. The practicality of the transfer from chair to car was the perfect diversion from thoughts of Ryan encroaching on her personal space. She wheeled close to the driver’s door, opened it and lifted herself into the seat.

‘When you open the back you’ll see the platform. The controls are hooked onto the driver side just below the window.’

Ryan was already at the rear of the vehicle. He opened the door.

‘Is this it?’ He waved the handpiece.

‘Yes. All you have to do now is press the down arrow button and the platform is programmed to slide out and down to the ground. Simply strap the chair in and press the up button.