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Chapter 18
Late February, 1943
‘Shakespeare wrote thatparting is such sweet sorrow, and now I know what he meant.’ Tears prickled in Meg’s eyes as she kissed each tiny bare baby foot. Jennifer’s little fingers clung to one of hers and big blue eyes gazed up at her in wide-eyed wonder and joy. Her rosebud mouth had begun to form the sweetest smile, and, at almost three months of age, Jennifer was the prettiest child Meg had ever seen. ‘Why am I even thinking of leaving you, my darling?’
Vera was standing at a little distance, giving Meg space to say goodbye but ready to take Jennifer and care for her like her own child. ‘I can’t imagine how hard this is, but you’d better get a hustle on or you’ll miss your train.’
Meg drew in a deep breath and unclasped the St Christopher medal from her neck. Her engagement gift from Seamus belonged to their daughter. She dangled the medallion in front of Jennifer. Little arms pumped and flung forward, uncoordinated and joyful as she knocked the medal and set it swinging.
‘This was your daddy’s promise we’d have a life together, my darling. He was so pleased to know about you. I only wish you could have known him, but when you’re older, I’ll tell you stories about him.’ She set the chain in Jennifer’s hand and picked up her baby.
Kissing her forehead, Meg inhaled her sweet baby’s scent, trying to memorise the feel of her daughter in her arms against the long, lonely nights that lay ahead. ‘I love you so much, but I have to go north and care for the soldiers who have fought like your daddy. I have to do this for him, and maybe for me, but I’ll be back as soon as I can, my darling girl. Be good for your Aunt Vera.’ With a final kiss she handed Jennifer to Vera and squeezed her friend’s shoulder because she had no more words.
‘I’ll write often with news of how she’s doing. Take care, Margaret, as I will take care of Jennifer, and give my love to that niece of mine. You have the package for her?’
Meg sniffed, nodded, then picked up her suitcase and walked down the brick path to the front gate. Opening it and stepping through, she forced herself to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, leaving her daughter in a step-by-step withdrawal that left the biggest part of her heart here by the river in Brisbane.
The day was bright, her uniform was hot, and her sadness weighed heavily and yet, there was something energising about the future. Leaving Jennifer was impossibly hard but going back to work felt right. It felt like the only choice she could make. And even if the Brisbane Line that the Government Minister, Mr Ward had claimed existed, her daughter would be safe with Vera.
##
The train journey toTownsville passed in a blur. Arms aching to hold her daughter, Meg’s mind slowly drew her onward to the work that lay ahead. In the time she’d been gone, her unit at Currajong had undergone changes—of name, of command, of personnel, including Doc who had been transferred. All leave had been cancelled following Allied progress in the Pacific arena, and he hadn’t been able to get down to Brisbane to visit before he’d left to oversee the setting up of new forward stations.
But he had written each week, kind letters inquiring about Jennifer and how they were managing in Brisbane, and snippets of news about the hospital that somehow evaded the censor’s black pen. He said no more about his offer, and for that, Meg was grateful.
Meg laced her fingers in her lap. Her ability to focus on tasks had been affected by lack of sleep in the first couple of months after Jennifer’s birth. In one sense, she was also grateful. Being tired had dulled her sense of loss, but even as she battled her grief for Seamus and being apart from Jennifer, her motivation to care for other soldiers now Seamus was gone, gave her the will to go on. A couple of good nights’ sleep would see her right. God, she hoped they would.
The train pulled into the Townsville station with a hiss of steam and squealing of brakes. Burning-coal smells combined with the heat rising off the platform as Meg stepped down and turned to lift her suitcase. Missing Jennifer as she did, still this return felt like some sort of coming home.
A corporal, his arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankles, leaned against a jeep outside the station. As she approached, his gaze flicked over her before he stood straight and offered a less than snappy salute. ‘Lt Dorset?’
She returned his salute. ‘Yes. Are we going straight to Currajong?’
‘Yes, Lieutenant. Corporal Williams, at your service.’
‘Are you attached to the hospital?’ she asked when he’d stowed her suitcase behind her seat.
‘No, Lieutenant. I usually drive an ambulance, but today’s been quiet, so they sent me to collect you. I drew the lucky straw.’
‘What lucky straw?’ Meg asked, although she could make an educated guess.
‘All the blokes want to pick up the new nurses when they arrive—’ His gaze slid sideways, and he grinned.
‘Then you lucked out, Corporal. I’m returning to duty. I was the Sister-in-charge at Currajong.’
Williams’s grin slipped and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. ‘Ah, right. Then – welcome back?’ He seemed disappointed and took a corner faster than she imagined an ambulance driver should.
Meg grabbed the top of the windscreen and pressed her lips together. Blinking against the bright, late-summer sunlight, Meg watched houses and shops slide past. Nothing had changed since she left, but everything in her life was different. She was different. How would she fit back into the familiar world of Currajong? Would it be familiar in its new incarnation, without Geoffrey?
The jeep slowed then stopped in front of the hospital, and Meg climbed out. ‘Thanks, Williams.’ She was stiff and her neck ached from trying to sleep sitting up for two nights. Praying whoever was in charge didn’t expect her to start a shift without time to recover, she straightened her shoulders and climbed the front stairs and headed towards the Medical Officer’s office. A piece of cardboard tacked to the door read: Lt. Col. Smythe.
She set her suitcase at her feet, twitched her jacket into a perfect line, and knocked.
‘Come in.’ The voice sounded older than Geoffrey’s, and weary.
She opened the door, stepped into the office and saluted. ‘Lt Dorset reporting for duty, sir.’
‘At ease, Lieutenant.’ Despite the hot summer day, the MO wore an army-issue tie, and his sleeves were buttoned at the wrist. When he stood, the crease in his trousers was visible, if a little flattened by the humidity. Geoffrey had dressed more casually when he was operating, but Lt. Col. Smythe appeared to be regular army, with a no-nonsense, maintain discipline, keep up appearance look. Greying temples and a surfeit of wrinkles made Meg revise her early estimate of his age to nearing retirement.
