Page 35 of Return to the Waratah Inn

Kate playfully slapped her arm. “Thank you for a relatively normal morning. I can’t tell you how much I needed it. And I’ll see you both soon.”

She air-kissed them each goodbye and carried her things back to the car, with Noah again safely strapped to her body. She felt deeply grateful for the inn, her sisters, and the way they always helped her to feel grounded and at peace with her place in the world, even when nothing else did.

Chapter Nineteen

June 1953

Newcastle

“You will pack your things and leave!” Sister Jones spat the words at Mima as though they left a bad taste in her mouth.

Mima’s lower lip quivered. She stood with her hands clasped together in front of her midwife’s uniform, her head bowed. Her gaze flicked from the floorboards, up the sister’s black-stockinged ankles, over her white gown and up to her lined face. Her eyes were fierce and showed no mercy in their droopy grey depths.

“But where will I go? What will I do?” Mima asked, her voice breaking on the words.

“You should’ve thought about that before you consorted with that musician!”

Mima couldn’t tell if the sister was more upset about the pregnancy or the fact that she’d fallen pregnant by a man whose only source of income was to play a musical instrument at a dance hall.

“My parents aren’t likely to welcome me home, and I have nowhere else to go.”

“Well, you can’t stay here. We need midwives with integrity and character on this ward, who can work. I don’t want you influencing the other girls into bad behaviour. And this isn’t a charity. I knew you were a bad seed from the very first day, but I gave you a chance to prove me wrong. Unfortunately, you not only failed at that, but you’ve displayed far worse judgement than even I could’ve predicted.”

As Mima walked slowly back to her room, she straightened her back and lifted her chin. She wouldn’t let them see how much they’d hurt her, wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of a single tear. The other midwives stood in their doorways, whispering behind raised hands and watching the humiliation unfold with wide eyes.

Tilda sat on her bed, reading from a hardcover book. She slapped it shut when Mima walked through the doorway. “I’m sorry, Mima, but I had to tell her. You know I didn’t have a choice. You’re already starting to show, and she was asking questions. If I’d lied…”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Mima hissed as she tugged her brown suitcase from under the bed and set it on top of her homemade quilt. The quilt had been made with squares she’d lovingly chosen from Mother’s leftover fabrics during her high school years. “You’re supposed to be my friend. I don’t want to hear it. You’ll say, you did what you thought was best. But you’ve completely betrayed me.”

Tilda stood and smoothed her skirt with both hands. “I wish you’d listened to me and then you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Mima faced her, anger growing like a fire deep within. “You’re right, Tilda. But just so you know, the man I love left me last month. He walked away from me and our baby for no good reason other than that he didn’t love us enough. I didn’t tell you because I knew how you’d react. If only you had some compassion, maybe I could’ve talked to you about what I was going through. But you have a heart of stone. I tried to be your friend, and this is how you treated me. I would never have done this to you.”

Tilda raised her chin. “I cared enough to speak up. And that’s the last I’ll say on the subject.” She spun on her heel and stalked from their room.

Mima choked back tears. She couldn’t let them fall. Not yet. Not while there were so many busybodies out in the corridor waiting for her to walk by so they could talk about her behind her back. She wouldn’t give them a show.

It didn’t take long to pack her suitcase. She only had a few items in the shared closet. She found a stack of letters from Edie and her mother in the desk drawer and folded them carefully into a pocket inside the suitcase. Then she zipped it shut and hefted it off the bed.

With her purse slung over her shoulder and her suitcase in her other hand, Mima stalked out of her room and down the corridor towards the exit. She didn’t look at the midwives who watched her go as they whispered and chattered quietly in her wake. They shot her judgemental looks, but she didn’t show she cared. Her heart was shattered. In the space of a few weeks, her entire life had changed. She’d had a career she loved, friends she believed cared about her, a place to live, and a boyfriend who was exciting, fun and talented. In the blink of an eye, she’d fallen pregnant, lost her boyfriend, her friends, her job and her home.

Mima stopped at the shared bathroom and ducked inside. She stood before the looking glass, staring at her own reflection. Who had she become? She barely recognised the pale, thin woman with the panicked and forlorn expression who stared back at her. Where was the confident, outgoing Mima who’d been game for anything? The girl who sneaked out of her house in the middle of the night to lay on a blanket in the grass, watching for shooting stars with the best of friends? How she missed those days. Looking back now, she hadn’t realised just how special their connection had been. Her high school friends would’ve done anything for her. They would never have turned her in, but would’ve risked everything to keep her safe.

She washed her face in the sink, then took a drink of water from her cupped hand. After wiping her hands and mouth dry, she picked up her suitcase, steeled herself, and left the hospital for the last time.

As Mima strode down the footpath towards the bus station, her mind raced. Where would she go? She could catch the bus downtown, but then where? It was mid-morning now. Would she find somewhere to go before dark that evening? And if not, would she have to spend the night outside, in the elements? It was June. The first month of winter had begun with a cold snap. Even now, the wind whipped her hair beneath the wool beanie she’d planted on top of her head. Her woollen coat kept her warm and the wind at bay for now. But would it withstand the creeping cold of a winter’s night in Newcastle?

“Mima! Jemima!” A voice called her name from behind. The sound was faint, as the wind carried it away almost the moment it arose.

Mima turned back and saw Tilda running after her, one hand holding her nurse’s hat in place on her head as it bobbed with each step. She waited, tears blurring her vision.

Tilda stopped on the footpath in front of her, puffing. “Wait. I want to talk to you.”

Mima’s nostrils flared. Why should she listen to the woman who’d gotten her fired? “What could you possibly have to say to me that would make any difference now?”

Tilda frowned. “Let’s get a cuppa. We can chat over tea.”

A little way down the road from the hospital, there was a small café. It was basic, with plastic-sheathed metal-framed chairs, tables covered with red-and-white chequered cloths, and one elderly waitress who took their order with a sullen expression.