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Chapter 14
‘Maggie! Have you seenthe Bulletin today?’ Gerry slipped in beside Meg, moved her mug aside and set the newspaper on the table. She stabbed her finger at an article. ‘My God, you were lucky not to be any nearer to that bomb. Look!’
‘Move your finger.’ Meg drew the paper closer and angled it towards the light. As she skimmed the article, her knees ached with remembered pain when she’d slammed into the ground as the bomber overflew them.
Pat rapped on the table. ‘Read it aloud please, Margaret. A few days ago, after the first raid, the paper reported that the enemy planes appeared to be some sort of long distance flying boat. Was this the same? Let’s hear what they have to say about your encounter.’
‘Okay. Let me see—seven bombs landed in Cleveland Bay . . .’ She skimmed further. ‘Oh, this bit refers to the bomb that hit near Oonoonba.’ Leaning an elbow on the table, she read:
The lesson of the Japanese bombing last week was that people must remain in their shelters while enemy aircraft are in the neighbourhood. The only “casualty” to be seen in the Townsville area, after three raids, is a lone coconut tree, which was struck by a flying bomb splinter. Some 14 feet up, the splinter struck the nine-inch diameter trunk a glancing blow, cutting its way through, and the top of the tree promptly toppled over. Near the ground can be seen two marks caused by splinter bits. Twenty yards from the bomb crater two posts in a wire fence, three inches in diameter, were cut off at ground level.
‘They lopped a coconut tree? That’s it?’ Mary shook her head.
‘A bomb splinter lopped the tree and two fence posts this thick—’ Pat held her hands three inches apart and peered through them then circled her fingers around Mary’s upper arm.
Meg stared at Pat’s demonstration. Bomb splinters had sliced through fence posts as thick as an arm. Cut them off at ground level. Near her. If she and Doc had pulled off only a little further down the road . . .
Bile rose in her throat.
‘A bomb splinter could lop off a man’s arm—’ If she and Doc had been closer to the bomb, she might not be here now, or she might be minus a limb or . . . ‘Excuse me.’
She barely made it to the lavatory before she threw up. When the heaving subsided, she sank onto her heels and rested her head in one hand. What was she thinking, remaining up here where flying boats dropped bombs like that? Where a splinter from a bomb could fell a tree as easily as a knife cut through butter.
What sort of mother put her baby in such danger?
‘Maggie?’ Gerry tapped on the door and a moment later, it creaked open and she popped her head around. ‘Are you okay?’ She took one look at Meg’s face and pushed the door wide, dropping onto the floor and grabbing Meg in a tight hug. ‘I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking about how that news story would make you feel. I’m an idiot, a horrible person, I’m—’
‘Not your fault, Gerry.’ Meg sucked in a breath that shuddered through her. ‘It was Pat’s demonstration of the size of the fence posts that made it hit home. We were so lucky to have left the meeting when we did. A few minutes later and we might have been hit like—’ Swallowing down a fresh surge of bile, she breathed through her mouth. ‘Like the palm tree. But we weren’t and I should be focused on that, not how close it could have been.’
She pushed herself up, and, with trembling fingers, wiped moisture from her eyes. ‘I need to rinse my mouth and splash water over my face.’
‘Of course. Will you come back to the mess? Can I get you a cuppa?’
‘I’m fine, honestly. But after that piece of—news—I do want to talk to Doc about how we’re protecting patients who can’t be moved from raids.’
‘And Eva? She’s really not coping.’
Meg just nodded. It was too much effort to explain what had already been decided. Besides, she owed it to Eva to tell her first. ‘I’ll see you on the ward.’
She tapped on the door of Doc’s office, wondering if she should have delayed speaking to him until she had planned her approach.
‘Come in.’ He sounded distracted and when she stopped in the doorway, an untidy pile of mail sat front and centre on his desk. ‘Sister, what can I do for you?’
‘Is this a bad time? I can come back later.’
Doc tunnelled his fingers through his hair, looked at the envelopes then at her. ‘No, now is fine. There’s never a good time in this man’s army.’
‘I have two items to discuss. The first is about Sister Smith. Apparently, she became hysterical during last night’s raid and—’
‘So I heard. I’ve just signed her transfer papers, effective immediately. Will you let her know she’s to be on the fourteen hundred train to Brisbane?’
‘Certainly, Doctor. So, the second item—’
Doc held up a hand and pinned her with a look she interpreted as resigned. ‘You want to know what I’ve decided about your—situation. By rights and all that’s sane and safe, I should have signed your papers and arranged for you to accompany Sister Smith to Brisbane. But I haven’t, and not because we’ll be short-staffed without you but—’
The pause was uncharacteristic for Doc. Self-assured and confident in his decisions, Meg was hard put to remember another time when he had faltered. But the fact he had gave her hope. ‘You aren’t sending me south with Sister Smith because . . .’
‘Because I’m a selfish bast—ahem, a selfish man. I know your situation, but even knowing that, I don’t want you to go. I like you, Margaret—a lot. You’re a damned good nurse too and I’m lucky to have you. I think we might be able to stretch out your time here another month or so. What do you think?’
