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‘What do you say? Will you come with me?’
Meg sighed and shook her head. ‘At one time, I’d have jumped at the chance, but when Jennifer comes home, I need to be there for her. She needs her mother. I’ve missed out on so much of her life already. I can’t miss any more.’
‘What about when she goes to school?’
‘Maybe. I don’t know. Once she’s in my arms, I don’t think I’ll ever want to let her go.’
A bell ding-dinged, signalling an approaching tram. Geoffrey glanced around. ‘That’s mine. Do what you feel is best for Jennifer. Meanwhile, I’ll hope that your ‘maybe’ becomes a ‘yes’ when the time is right. I’ll be home for dinner, my dear.’
‘Burnt toast notwithstanding?’
‘I’ll eat whatever comes as long as it’s with you sitting across the table.’ He hesitated then kissed her cheek before sprinting for the tram.
As it pulled away, she put a hand to her cheek. He’d kissed her. Out in public in the middle of the street. Now what was she to make of that?
She made her way to her tram stop, wondering if that kiss had been Geoffrey distracting her, or a sign of affection.
And if it was affection, and Geoffrey’s feelings for her were growing . . . That was the most worrying idea of all. Because he deserved so much more than she could ever give him.
##
A week passed, thentwo. Geoffrey began work as the new Head of Surgery at Herston and Gerry sometimes caught a ride in with him when her shift matched his workday. And every day, Meg stayed in the house to be near the phone, except when she heard the postman’s whistle. Then, she raced out to the letterbox and opened it, hoping today would be the day she’d hear from the Records office.
Waiting was an almost physical pain. Her remedies were cooking and cleaning the house from top to bottom. Every morning, as soon as she had the house to herself and before the heat of the day became unbearable in the kitchen, Meg pulled out a copy of the Women’s Weekly magazine and selected a recipe to cook or bake. By dint of sheer repetition, her cooking skills were beginning to improve.
It’s hard to get worse than burnt toast, she thought, and smiled as she stirred a pot of rhubarb and apple jam. With three ration books and a little negotiation, she’d convinced Geoffrey and Gerry to give up part of their sugar ration with the promise of delicious jam.
‘You’ve got to pay attention, Meg. It’s not like a stew where it doesn’t matter if you cook it a bit longer,’ Gerry had warned her. ‘You can’t leave it and go and do something else.’
‘I won’t leave the kitchen, I promise. You’ll love it.’ A good mother would be a good cook and feed her child healthy food and Meg was determined to succeed. For Jennifer’s sake, and her own pride.
She checked the time then scooped half a teaspoonful onto a cool saucer. Was it thick enough? She peered at the spreading blob then poked at it with the tip of her finger.
The postie’s whistle blew at her gate and Meg put the saucer down and ran. She reached the doorway before she remembered – the pot was still simmering on the stove. Forcing her impatience down, she grabbed two potholders and set the pot in the sink then ran out to the letterbox.
Please be today.
##
Gerry was still atwork when Geoffrey walked through the front door and removed his hat. Meg flung herself against his chest. ‘We’ve got an interview!’ She waved the letter.
His arms wrapped around her and lifted her clear off the floor. He spun her in dizzying circles and when he set her down, he didn’t let her go. ‘Wonderful news. When?’
‘The day after tomorrow. Eleven o’clock at the Records office.’
Geoffrey frowned then nodded. ‘I can fit in most of my morning surgery, but I’ll have to ask Dr Higgins to take over one case. It will be too challenging for a new surgeon.’
‘Will that be a problem?’
He leaned his forehead against hers and his arms tightened around her waist. ‘Nothing is more important than our daughter.’
A fillip of excitement tumbled through her. Gratitude. That was all it was. She was grateful for his help, and for his easy acceptance of Jennifer into their lives. With a murmured ‘Thank you’, she kissed his mouth. Not his cheek, which would have been more suited to a thank you kiss, but his mouth. Her lips met his unerringly. Naturally.
Geoffrey stood perfectly still. She thought he held his breath, so still was he.
Perhaps his very stillness encouraged her to prolong the kiss. Meant to be brief, it grew into something more than simple gratitude. She fell into it like a starving woman.
‘Do you want to—’
She wasn’t sure if she heard the words, or if the tightening of his arms, the hardening of his body against hers communicated his need – echoing hers.
‘Yes.’
They made it to their bedroom and the door crashed behind Geoffrey, before Meg gave herself up to the insistent need of her body.
