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Chapter 17
The heat grew as Septemberrolled into October and then November, although Meg wasn’t entirely certain it wasn’t her rapidly growing belly attracting the sun’s rays whenever she poked her nose into the garden or took a leisurely stroll around the park or down to the river to watch the boats go by.
On a day of high humidity and thunderheads promising an afternoon storm, three letters arrived together from Seamus. Meg opened all three to find the right order then settled on the swing seat to read them as Vera came in from the garden. She waved the first one at Vera. ‘Finally, news from the front.’
‘You look happy. I’ll leave you to read in peace while I get clean. Would you like a cool drink when I come out?’
‘That would be lovely, thank you.’ Meg turned her attention back to Seamus’s letter, the one she had been waiting for since she wrote with the news of her pregnancy.
My darling Meg,
What wonderful news! We’re having a baby, although I had hoped we would be enjoying some months of wedded bliss before the arrival of a little one. I still hope to get leave and return to you in time to walk you down the aisle before we two become three, but I don’t think the captain can do without me. I am sorry.
I’ve been promoted – I’m Sergeant Flanagan now, with a little extra in pay. That will come in handy since we’re to have our first child by Christmas. I wish I could be with you, but the army seems to value my presence more than my absence. A nuisance when all I want is to be with you, but there it is. Also, you should know I’ve listed you as my next of kin. The captain said I could, even though we haven’t quite managed to say our vows. But he knows when I say I’ll do a thing, it happens. Not sure if he expects an invitation to our wedding!
The fighting here is (blacked out lines) . . .
I fall asleep each night thinking of you, and before I open my eyes each morning, I imagine I’ll wake to see your sweet smile beside me. I cannot wait to make you mine.
All my love to you and our little one.
Seamus
Meg ran her fingers over the writing. Seamus had a way with words; these were so poetic she could almost hear his lilting Irish voice speaking to her beneath the moon at Adelaide River.
‘By that look on your face I’m guessing your man has written something special.’ Vera set the wooden tray down. Two glasses of cold water beaded and puddled on the tray beside a plate of Vera’s latest batch of biscuits. A small but precious blob of jam had set like a jewel in the centre of each.
‘I’ve been so worried not hearing from him, but this one—’ She waggled the letter she’d just read— ‘this reminds me why I fell in love with him. He’s happy about the baby, and said he’ll try to get leave so we can marry before he or she is born.’
‘That’s wonderful, Margaret. But he’d better get a wriggle on or you’ll pop before he sees you in all your beautiful glow.’
‘Glow? I feel fat and frumpy, not beautiful. Any glow is from the heat.’ Just saying that made her aware of how hot she felt and she fanned her face with Seamus’s letter.
‘No, you are beautiful. Impending motherhood suits you, especially now you’ve heard from your man. You’ve a look in your eyes like you hold Heaven within.’
‘Vera, you know how to make me feel good, even when I’m melting into a puddle of sweat.’
‘Did you see the parcel on the table in the hallway? From Gerry.’
‘No, I came out through my bedroom doors onto the veranda. I’ll go and get it now.’
Vera touched her arm. ‘I’ll get it. Stay where you’re comfortable.’ Moments later she returned with a brown paper-wrapped parcel tied with so much string Meg laughed.
‘By the amount of string she used, she must have sent me the Crown Jewels!’
Vera offered a pair of scissors and sat beside Meg. The arrival of a parcel was an occasion to be savoured, especially in these lean times. ‘Can you cut it carefully so I can re-use the string please?’
Examining the knots, Meg found one tiny end of string poking out. She cut it as close to the knot as she could, and the ties fell into her lap. Reaching forward to lay the scissors on the table set the swing seat moving and Meg grabbed the parcel before it fell from her lap.
What lap, she thought. ‘I’m all belly when I sit these days.’ Not wanting to lose the contents she moved the parcel to the space between them, opened the flaps of brown paper and sighed with delight. She brushed a hand over the finely smocked top, enjoying the feel of the raised stitches. ‘Gerry’s made a layette for the baby. Look at the baby bunnies in the smocking. They’re gorgeous!’
‘That girl should open a shop when this war is over.’
‘If she wasn’t such a great nurse, I’d agree. She’s one of those special people who’s good at everything she does.’ Meg took each tiny item from the parcel, marvelled at the delicate stitching and thrilled to imagine her baby dressed for a walk in the park. She would push the pram and— ‘Oh my, I need to find a pram. Vera, where in Brisbane should I go to find one? I’ve been lying about like a seal on a beach when I should have been out looking for all sorts of things for my baby.’
‘I still have Phillip’s pram in the nursery. And all of his little outfits are packed in the trunk in there. We’ll have a washing day and you can decide what you’d like to use for your baby—if you like.’ That brief pause and the hesitance in the final phrase tugged Meg’s heartstrings. Vera had taken her lost son—Phillip—for rides in the pram and dressed him in the little outfits she now offered to Meg. Would they retain a hint of his smell? How would Vera bear to see another woman’s child using his things?
Vera squeezed her hand as though she were answering Meg. ‘It will be good to see another baby enjoying an outing in Phillip’s pram. I look forward to taking him to the park.’
