Page 48 of Return to the Waratah Inn

Dot walked out, then turned back, her red plait glinting in the light from the hallway. “I’ll do my best. Good luck, Frannie.”

Mima got to work preparing the bed for birth with towels beneath Fran and forceps, clamps and scissors lined up on another towel on the dresser beside the bed. She gave Fran a sip of water from a steel cup.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to fetch help?” Mima asked.

Fran shook her head. “Don’t tell them. I want to keep this one. I can’t lose her.”

“We won’t let that happen, Fran. We just won’t. Okay?” Mima’s heart was in her throat. She was making promises she wasn’t sure she could keep. But right now, she had to calm Fran down and get her to focus on labour. Otherwise, things could go very wrong, very quickly.

Within a minute, she heard the beautiful high voices of the three girls in the dormitory next door singing a hymn. Their rendition of “Old Rugged Cross” could be heard clearly echoing down the hallway. The dulcet three-part harmony drowned out the sounds of Fran’s groans and cries as she launched into another contraction. Mima smiled grimly to herself. Good old Dot.

“I’m right here, love,” Mima said in a soothing cadence. “I’m not going anywhere. And you can do this. I promise, everything is going to be okay. And you’ll get to meet your beautiful baby boy or girl very soon.”

“She’s a girl,” Fran replied as she panted through a break in contractions.

“How do you know that?”

“I know, that’s all. She’s strong—she has to be. She’s made it this far, hasn’t she?”

Labour progressed rapidly for Fran, and Mima found herself falling back into her role as midwife with ease. She encouraged her friend, held her hand, and talked her through the pain and how to manage it. Fran retreated into herself, found the strength that she needed to keep going, and held in the screams of pain so she wouldn’t give herself away.

In the quiet moments, Mima tried to figure out a way for the baby to remain undetected. It was impossible — they couldn’t do it. Even so, surely they wouldn’t take her away. The baby needed its mother. Needed her sustenance, her arms to hold it, her milk to feed it, her voice to calm its fears. Fran was overreacting. Mima didn’t know what had happened with Fran’s older children—she couldn’t think about that now. But it would be different with a baby. Babies were reliant on their mothers. No one else could care for a baby the way a mother could.

“It’s time to push, Fran. Breathe deeply. Connect with the contraction. You can do this.” Mima released Fran’s hand and moved to the foot of the bed to watch for the baby.

It only took four strong pushes, and the baby’s head was out. Mima took hold of it gently and helped guide the rest of the baby out onto the towels that she’d laid across the bed.

She examined the baby. It was a girl after all, exactly as Fran had said it would be. The baby was strong, healthy and wailed loudly for her mother. Mima clipped the cord and wrapped her up, then handed her to Fran to hold while she finished up with the rest of her tasks.

Fran held the baby to her chest, marvelling at her with brimming eyes. “She’s beautiful. Ta, Mima. I’m glad you’re here.”

Mima grinned broadly, emotion welling up inside of her. “She’s perfect. You did all the work. I only watched. What will you name her?”

“Marli,” Fran replied. “It means black swan. Don’t ya think she looks like a swan?”

Mima leaned forward to look at the baby’s face. “You know, she really does. She’s regal and graceful already. Just like her mother.” She inhaled deeply, relieved that the labor was over and Fran had done so well. The baby was born, the pain had passed, and Fran looked happy. It was a good day.

“What should we do now?” Fran asked. “I don’t think I can run away just yet. I need time…”

“You need rest. And Marli needs to feed. Why don’t you get started on that, and I’ll take care of keeping it quiet?”

Fran nodded and got situated with a pillow behind her back to feed the newborn.

“You don’t really think they’ll take her from you, do you?” Mima asked as she cleaned up.

“I don’t know,” Fran replied. “But I’m not gonna let ’em try.”

“Why did they take your kids, Fran?”

“They said my kids would have a better life without me ’cause I’m poor. But what kid would be better without a mum? I did the best I could. And anyway, they’re mine. They belong with me and my mob. I’m gonna get them back.”

Fran’s voice began to rise. Mima could see her chest heaving beneath the weight of the baby who was peacefully feeding.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out,” Mima reassured her with a hand on her shoulder.

Inside, she was troubled. She couldn’t understand what had happened or why, but she knew she had to help her friend. As she finished packing up the towels, the door opened, and Dot stumbled backwards into the room.

“Hey, wait! I have another song for you…” Dot cried. She shot Fran and Mima an apologetic look. “Sorry, I tried.”