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Chapter 31
Late July 1946
The westerly winds are early, Meg thought as she clutched the sides of her coat together with one hand and held tightly to Jennifer’s hand with the other. They’d played in the park and fed breadcrumbs to the birds, and swung on the swings until Meg’s head spun from watching her daughter’s back and forth motion. Now Jennifer needed food and a nap and Meg—she craved some adult conversation.
Closing the front gate behind them she hurried Jennifer up the front steps. She’d left a pot of vegetable soup simmering on the stove that would do for a quick lunch. Once Jennifer had gone down for her nap, Meg picked up the medical journal Geoffrey had brought home and sat at the kitchen table. It was the warmest seat in the house, and she lost herself in reading; so much so that it was only the scrape of chair legs on lino when Gerry sat across from her that lifted her eyes from the page.
‘Have you been involved with any epidurals for women in labour?’
Gerry’s eyebrows rose and she folded her hands on the table. ‘And good afternoon to you, Meg. How was your day? Mine was fine, thank you. Would I like a cup of tea? Why—’
‘Sorry, I was immersed in this article about— Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Yes please.’
Meg pushed her chair back and lifted the kettle. There was enough water for a small pot, so she moved the kettle onto the hottest part of the stove then opened the wood stove and slipped another small log onto the fire. Dusting off her hands, she dropped back onto her chair. ‘I’ve been reading this article about changes in management of childbirth. Epidurals, inducing labour when a baby’s gone well past its due date – and the idea of scans to detect problems early in a pregnancy . . . It all sounds brilliant!’
‘They are, although we’re seeing resistance from some of the older doctors who want to control every aspect of a woman’s labour because it’s more convenient for them. But when women come in for their ante-natal check-ups, we’re making sure they know all the options now available to them.’
‘How they deliver their baby should be their choice.’
‘Of course it should, within reason. We had a high-risk delivery yesterday. Fortunately, the mother had had a scan and we knew what to expect.’
Having delivered Jennifer at home with the assistance of Vera and the midwife, Meg was certain how any future babies of hers and Geoffrey would enter the world. If they had any. Seven months into their marriage and she hadn’t been blessed with another pregnancy.
The kettle hissed and steamed. Meg made a pot of tea and set it beside two mugs on the table. ‘Cake? I had a go at making a sponge cake this morning. It doesn’t look that good, but it tastes okay.’ She brought the cake platter across from the bench and offered it to Gerry. ‘It sank in the middle, so I filled it with preserved cherries.’
Gerry hesitated a moment too long, and Meg sighed.
‘I know, but no matter how often I try, I can’t master some dishes.’
‘I’d love to try your cake, Meg. And don’t take this the wrong way, but you aren’t really a natural homemaker. You mean well, but other things become more interesting. Like that article you’re reading. Put you into an operating theatre and you’re like the lead violinist working with the conductor – or in that scenario, the surgeon.’ She grinned and cut two slices of cake.
Meg handed her two plates. ‘You’re right. But Jennifer needs me. I left her with Vera for the first three years of her life, and while I know that was the right thing to do, and Vera was wonderful with her, I can’t hand her off to someone else just because I want to go back to nursing. I’m a mother, and my daughter is my top priority.’
‘You’re a wonderful mother, but Jennifer doesn’t need you every minute of every day. Meg, there’s a great Lady Gowrie Child Centre near the hospital. You could enrol Jennifer there and work parttime while she was in school.’
‘School! She’s three years old.’
‘Heading for four. The kindergarten has an excellent educational programme, and before you ask, no, I haven’t been checking it out. Some of the mums who come into the clinic were talking about it the other day. Lots of other children to play with, outdoor activities and learning . . . And they have to have a rest, even if they don’t sleep during it.’ Gerry reached across and set her hand on Meg’s arm. ‘Just think about it for now.’
##
Since Gerry had mentionedthe kindergarten, the idea of returning to a surgical position was impossible to push out of her head. It was seductive and opened possibilities for Meg to be with Jennifer some of the time, and for her daughter to socialise with other children in a safe environment while she worked.
If I can get work at the Herston hospital.
Discreet enquiries using her maiden name elicited an interview. Several mornings later, when Gerry had a day off and offered to take Jennifer shopping for new shoes, Meg declined to go with them.
‘I have a few errands to run, and they’ll take half the time without Little Miss Munchkin. Thanks, Gerry.’ She walked with them to the tram and waved to Jennifer when the bell dinged then watched as the tram juddered away. Then she walked to the bus stop and waited until the bus to Herston arrived.
All the way there, she ran through the positives and negatives of returning to work. One of the biggest negatives was her married status. Now the war was over, women were being encouraged to return to home and hearth and leave the work to the men. Except that men weren’t nurses, so maybe she had a chance. And it seemed that the kindergarten kept places for children of mothers working at the hospital. She’d been reassured about that when she rang to make a time to visit the childcare centre.
‘Our philosophy includes making it possible for women with children to return to the workplace should they so wish.’
But she hadn’t told Geoffrey. It wasn’t that she intended to keep it a secret from him, but she wanted to win a position based on merit and not on who her husband was.
‘Margaret Dorset?’ A nurse with a clipboard stood in front of her.
