Looking down at her beloved fish print pyjamas, Frazer shrugged at Jemma, who was standing in Frazer’s doorway with a look that bordered on judgemental. “I take them off when I shower.”

Jemma’s face wrinkled up. “That’s disgusting.”

“I also washed them and wore a different pair one day.”

Jemma’s face wrinkled even more. Green eyes, the same as Frazer’s, down to the freckle in them, bore down on her. “Have you left the house in five days?”

“Yes!”

“Not including the day you went to work to hand in your resignation?”

Frazer pursed her lips. She had nothing.

Her triumphant chortle carried Jemma past Frazer and into the house. As she usually did, she flopped down on the couch as if she lived there. It was infuriating.

“Please, make yourself at home.” Frazer closed the door and stood over her sister with her arms on her hips.

“Already done, big sis. Got any beer?”

Frazer huffed, then went and got her one, taking a juice for herself.

Once they were both settled, Jemma looked at her seriously. “Do I need to be worried?”

“Jemma, you’ve known me your entire life. You know I’m useless at sitting around doing nothing.”

“But that’s what you’ve been doing.”

“I’ve been working from home.”

“You don’t have a job.”

“Don’t I?”

Pushing herself up on her elbows, beer hanging precariously from one hand, Jemma stared at her. “You do?”

“I do.”

“Don’t be a butthead. That’s your cue to start explaining.”

“I know.” Irritating Jemma wasn’t just fun, it was revenge for all the sleepless nights when she had been a tiny ball of rage her parents insisted on bringing home from the hospital.

“Frazer.” The whine was strong in this one.

“I’m opening a clinic.”

Jemma sat up completely. “For real? What type?”

“That’s the exciting part—two types, actually.”

The expectant look on Jemma’s face meant she was waiting for Frazer to elaborate.

She didn’t.

“Damn it Frazer!”

Frazer chuckled. “Fine. Half the time I’ll be a child health nurse, after a six-month online course, and a private midwife. The other half of the time, the programme will operate out of the same location.”

Joyous disbelief was starting to paint Jemma’s face. “Seriously? But, wasn’t the programme based in your hospital?”

“Well, that’s what I’ve been checking and sorting out. Turns out the grant the hospital chose to direct to me is government based, which means the hospital doesn’t control it. That money comes to me. And I applied to a couple more grants that exist for people setting things up independently for the community. I had a call yesterday from someone saying my application looked really promising and that they loved the idea.”

Jemma looked ready to burst with excitement. “Really?”