Page 19 of Return to the Waratah Inn

He was from Melbourne. That was where he knew her from. But where in Melbourne had they met? What was the connection? Given that she was a well-known television journalist when she’d lived there, perhaps he’d seen her on TV. It happened to her all the time when she was still in that career—people would come up to her with a giant grin on their face and act like she was their best friend. Sometimes it would take a while for her to figure out she didn’t know them at all, but they’d seen her every night in their lounge room.

“I’m living up this way, yeah. I lost my job… You probably know that?”

He grimaced. “Ugh, yeah. I do remember something about that. Bad luck, huh?”

“That’s right—it was bad luck. So, I came north to be with my family.”

“Oh, okay. That’s nice. Good for you. Are you studying here?”

“I’m registering for next semester.”

“Great. You’ll love it. I’m having a blast. I’ve found a group of friends already. Love that I can go for a surf or a run along the beach before classes every day. I lived near the beach in Melbourne, but it was so cold some days that I couldn’t face getting into the water. I’m a bit of a wuss when it comes to the cold.”

“I can’t say I blame you there,” Bindi agreed with a dip of her head. “Well, I’d better get going. I’ve got registration forms to complete.”

“Righto, then. Good to see you again. Hey, a few of us are going out for a drink tonight in Surfer’s Paradise. Care to join? I’ll introduce you around and you can get to know some of the other students.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. If she was going to spend the next year traipsing all over campus, it would be nice to know some of her fellow students, even if they were ten years younger than she was. And besides, Josh was on a shift tonight, so he wouldn’t be home. She’d planned on making a packet of ramen noodles and curling up on the couch to watch Home and Away on her own but perhaps she should do something more exciting. She’d been feeling restless lately.

“Okay, that sounds nice. If you don’t mind me crashing…”

“I’d love it, and I’m sure no one else will care. I can’t believe I ran into you. Bindi Summers, right here in the flesh.”

She arched her eyebrows. “Yeah, in the flesh.”

He grabbed her by the hand, startling her, then pulled her towards him and began to write something on her arm in pen. “Here’s where we’re going. We’ll be there around eight o’clock to get started. See you then?”

She pulled her arm back and read what he’d written. Cocktails & Dreams, Orchid Ave. She’d never heard of the place, but that wasn’t surprising. She’d basically avoided the nightlife on the Gold Coast since… well, always. Her idea of a good time was a stroll along the beach, horse riding, or dinner in a nice restaurant. But maybe it was time she enjoyed a night out at a cocktail bar.

“Okay, I’ll see you at eight.”

She waved goodbye to him, then wandered off again in the direction of the administration building, still wondering who on earth he was. She spun around and shouted out the question, “What’s your name again?” still pretending she knew him but had simply forgotten his name.

“Brett Dunn!” he yelled back to her.

“Oh, that’s right.” She didn’t recall ever meeting a Brett in Melbourne. As she walked to class, her cheeks warmed. She was going to enjoy being a university student again. Already she’d met someone interesting and she wasn’t even enrolled. She couldn’t wait to see where this new path would take her.

Chapter Eleven

February 1953

Newcastle

“You’re on home visits today,” Sister Jones said in a bored tone as she paced down the length of the corridor.

Mima exchanged a surprised look with Tilda, then hurriedly returned her attention to the wall in front of her. Home visits? That wasn’t something midwives were supposed to do. The community health centres took care of the follow-up support after babies came into the world. The midwife’s job was to manage pregnancy and labour. They never knew what happened with their patients after they checked out of the hospital and went home. There were many times when she’d wondered how a patient had fared after a particularly difficult birthing experience.

She stifled a yawn. She’d overslept. Yesterday’s shift had taken it out of her, then she and some of the other midwives had gone to the cinema to watch Singin’ in the Rain. The popular talkie starring Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds had the most incredible dance scenes, plus it was so funny that the whole theatre was in stitches. Mima couldn’t remember enjoying a movie as much as she did that one, but she got home late and hadn’t been able to sleep. The memories of the beautiful music, the exquisite dancing, the romance… It all played over and over in her head until she finally drifted off in the wee hours of the morning.

“Home visits aren’t something you’ll do regularly, but I spoke with the manager at the Baby Health Clinic recently, and she remarked that midwives from this hospital generally have no idea what life is like for newborn babies and their mothers after they leave. So, we hatched a plan to let you take on some of their backlog today. You’re helping them out with cases, and you’ll get a chance to expand your understanding of what these families are dealing with once they leave us. My hope is that it’ll inform your support for them while they’re here. Here is your appointment for today, after which I expect you back here for your regular shift. Godspeed.”

Mima took the notepaper handed to her and scanned the address listed in the sister’s almost illegible scrawl. “I’m headed towards the beach. How about you?”

“Inner city,” Tilda replied with a huff. “I still don’t understand why we have to do this. We’re midwives, not community nurses.”

“Oh, well. Let’s get it over with. Maybe it’ll be fun. Something different, anyway. There have been so many babies ever since the war ended, a real baby boom, I think the community health centres are probably overwhelmed and need some help.”

“I’m sure you’re right. I’ll see you back here after.” Tilda waved goodbye and headed down the corridor, her gait slightly pigeon-toed in her black Mary Janes.