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‘Dr Ransom—Ransom—Australian doctor. I need to speak with him now. It’s urgent.’
After several loud repetitions, the listener understood and, moments later, the music stopped. Meg heard a call for Dr Ransom over the stage microphone. Shortly after, a door banged and the doctor himself picked up the phone. With the music muted she explained the sergeant’s reaction. ‘Do you need to see for yourself, or are you happy for me to give him the anti-histamine now, Doctor?’
Some would consider she’d overstepped her boundary as a nurse, but, watching the sergeant’s increasingly frantic scratching, and a worrying, high-pitched wheezing, his condition was rapidly getting worse.
‘Go ahead and give him one standard dose for now and monitor him closely. I’ll find a ride and get there as soon as I can. Oh, and Margaret, have a bucket ready. He may throw up before the anti-histamine begins to work.’ There was a click as he ended the call.
Meg fetched a large specimen tray and set it within reach. ‘I’m going to prepare the injection, Sergeant. The tray is just in case you need to—’
‘Chuck up?’
‘Yes.’
This time he barely managed a nod and as Meg prepared a small tray with the anti-histamine, she heard sounds of retching. Glad that she had sent Eva off to the dance and taken her place, she grabbed a small cloth to cover the tray. Sgt Draper’s face was pale as she moved the tray of vomit out of the way and gave him the injection. Rubbing the spot where the needle had gone in, she spoke in a brisk tone, knowing the sound of her voice telling him he would be okay was as much a part of settling him as the injection.
‘There you are, Sergeant Draper. You’ll feel much better very soon. The doctor is on his way back from the dance and he’ll check you over. Not many people get a reaction like you did.’
‘Lucky me.’ His eyes had been closed, but now he opened them.
‘Well, I’m not sure I’d call an allergic reaction lucky, although I guess it is good luck that we have an antidote close by.’
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and she wondered if she needed to get a fresh tray for him, but he swallowed. The sergeant was made of stern stuff. He dragged in a slow breath then exhaled, the latter sound less forced, as though the drug was beginning to have an effect on him. ‘Yeah, that’s lucky too. But I meant I’m lucky to have an angel looking after me. You’ve a kind way with patients, Sister. Not like—’
‘Ssh, enough now. I need you to close your eyes and rest. The doctor will be here soon.’ But she wondered what Eva had done—or not done—to elicit such a negative tone.
‘Did you give up going to the dance to look after me, Sister?’ Sergeant Draper’s eyelids closed as inexorably as the playing of Taps darkened a barracks.
‘How could a dance compare with the pleasure of your company, Sergeant?’
A less than gentle snore was her only response. Meg’s head tipped back and she glanced through the window. The night sky was black beyond the glass, which reflected a soft spill of light from her desk and the indistinct form of her patient. Wanting to believe that Sister Smith would have tended their patient as well as she had, she couldn’t help but believe that her decision to swap places meant some higher being was looking out for the sergeant.
After all she’d seen, questioning the existence of a God who allowed such terrible wars and painful, savage deaths to occur had seemed her only course. But tonight, perhaps He had found a way to bring her back to Him.
Casting a glance at her special patient and seeing him fast asleep, she slipped onto the veranda and checked the two patients there. Sound asleep and snores from both beds. She looked through the flyscreens at the sky. Out here, the night seemed luminous up high, while the horizon was a velvety black. She leaned on the railing, searching for the twin pointer stars. Lying in Seamus’s arms in their secret glade at the River, he’d begun pointing out various constellations, but her favourite was the Southern Cross. And tonight, after stopping what had been shaping up to be a serious allergic reaction, it seemed fitting that she sent a silent thanks to her constellation.
Narrow beams of headlights cut through the darkness followed by the sound of a vehicle pulling up in front of Currajong. Doc must be back from the dance and she had good news for him. But as she stepped back inside the ward Gerry’s comment—the one that had made Meg take Eva’s place instead of attending the dance—drifted back. Now, instead of being amongst a happy, noisy throng, she was about to be alone with him in a darkened ward. At least there were patients, even if sleeping.
And I’ve got tickets on myself if I believe what Gerry said.
Steeling herself to be normal, whatever the heck that was these days, she sat at her desk next to Sergeant Draper’s bed and opened the personnel files she’d planned to work on.
Soft footfalls approached along the hallway and Dr Ransom appeared. ‘Good evening, Sister. How’s your patient doing?’
Meg stood and faced him, all professional competence with no hint of uncertainty in her manner. ‘Sergeant Draper responded well to the anti-histamine injection. He fell asleep soon after.’
‘Keep up the IV fluids.’ Doc ran a hand through his hair. He looked tired but determined and Meg appreciated his dedication more than ever. Catching Meg’s gaze, he smiled ruefully. ‘Heaven knows this war is shocking, but one good thing is the advances in medicine and surgical techniques in response to what we’re encountering day by day. Even non-war related problems like the sergeant’s appendicitis.’
‘I’m sorry you had to leave the dance, but at the time I felt—’
He held up a hand. ‘Never apologise for putting a patient’s needs first, Margaret. But I didn’t manage to get a drink at the dance, so how about a cup of tea?’
‘Certainly. I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘Margaret—’ He touched her arm and shook his head. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. I was the one who suggested it after all. But tell me, do you know where the biscuits are hidden? I think a small treat is in order, don’t you?’
His smile made him look younger, less care-worn perhaps. She wanted to keep it there, despite the reasons she’d earlier convinced herself of for keeping her distance from Geoffrey.
‘Third cupboard on the left, on the top shelf.’ Her smile came naturally. That was the thing about Geoffrey; he made her feel good in spite of her resolution to maintain professional distance.
‘Don’t go away.’
Meg watched until the dark hallway swallowed him then turned back and checked the sergeant’s pulse and blood pressure again, reassuring herself the injection was doing its job. Glancing at the files waiting on her desk, she turned away. Five minutes to relax and watch the stars wouldn’t hurt. Five minutes – time to remind herself she was in love with Seamus, the father of her child.
