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Adelaide River
After a night spent sleeping in the back of the truck, even with Seamus’s shoulder for a pillow, the basic accommodation offered at Adelaide River felt luxurious. Sister Mary O’Dea welcomed Meg and Pat before Pat slipped away to meet the matron. Off-duty when the truck rolled into the River, Mary offered Meg both conversation and a spare uniform. ‘This place started out as a rest camp and farm area, but since Pearl Harbour we’ve been sent more staff. The radio’s been running hot all morning and the army’s gearing up. I reckon the River will become more important now Darwin’s been bombed.’
‘Do you feel safe here?’ Meg gratefully took the proffered uniform. It was ridiculous asking, but that ‘they shot nurses’ comment on the beach in Darwin resurfaced the moment she tried to relax. ‘If the Japs land in Darwin, it’s only a hop and a skip to Adelaide River.’
‘I can’t imagine them being interested in an Outback hospital. It’s not like we’ve got an airbase right on our doorstep, is it? Besides, we’re nurses. We should be safe enough.’
Meg chose not to reply. Why frighten Mary and the others with an unsubstantiated story? A short shower and a borrowed uniform while Meg washed hers made it possible to return to ward duty with her usual smile in place.
Pat was standing beside the matron as Meg entered. She excused herself and met Meg near the door. ‘Sister Dorset, Matron was just passing on orders from the Army. I’m to continue with the most severe cases to the nearest railway. You’ll stay here with the ambulatory and nearly recovered patients. The army will arrange transport for them in a few days. I’ve suggested Corporal Flanagan as a temporary orderly to assist with the extra patients. His arm is healing, and he’s shown himself competent at solving problems.’
A little flutter stirred in Meg’s belly. It would be nice to have Seamus around for a bit longer. ‘Yes, Sister. Am I to be transferred here, or will I be returning to Darwin?’
‘I don’t know. Right now, I can’t imagine what it’s like up there.’ She leaned in and drew Meg close to the entrance. ‘I did hear there was another bombing raid after we left. The airport was hit hard and badly damaged. There might not be anything left to return to.’
‘There must have been so many casualties to care for.’ Following orders had been drilled into Meg in training and she’d climbed into the truck when told to by a sergeant. But the news there had been more raids left her feeling as guilty as if she’d deserted her post.
‘And we were short-staffed before the bombing.’
Meg looked north along the track they’d taken, her chest, tight with anxiety. ‘Do you think the Japs will invade?’
Pat shrugged and pulled a slip of paper from her pocket. ‘It’s possible. Nothing in war is certain. Look, if you ever find yourself in Brisbane, here’s my address. If I’m not there, Mum would still love to chat with you and at the very least, you’ll get fed a decent meal.’
‘Thanks. Are you leaving soon?’
‘Oi, Sister Carey! We’re ready to go.’
Pat glanced over her shoulder and took a deep breath. ‘Now, by the looks of it.’
Meg clutched Pat’s hand then pulled her into a quick, fierce hug. ‘I’ll miss you. Stay safe.’
‘I will. I’m glad Corporal Flanagan is staying with you. For all he’s a charmer, I trust him. If ever he tells you to run, do it.’ With a final squeeze of Meg’s hand, Pat strode to the truck. Corporal Ransom helped her to climb into the back with her charges. As the truck pulled out, she raised a hand in farewell before a turn in the track swallowed the truck whole.
‘So many goodbyes, aren’t there.’ Seamus set down the bucket he’d been carrying and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. ‘Here.’
Meg looked, wondering why he offered it before she registered her damp cheeks. Shaking her head at the hanky, she wiped her hands over her cheeks and sniffed. ‘Sorry. I don’t know why I’m such a watering pot today.’
‘Don’t you, macushla? First a funeral and now farewelling a friend, on top of a tough couple of days with little sleep? Why, I feel like sitting down and sobbing meself.’ He pulled a comical expression that drew a snort and a smile from her.
‘Then it’s a good thing I didn’t accept your hanky, isn’t it?’ She sniffed once more, smoothed her hands over her skirt and huffed out decisively. ‘Right then, we need to crack on with our jobs. I’d better see what Matron has planned for me.’
‘That’s the ticket. You’ll be all right, Meg—Sister.’ His glance slid past Meg’s shoulder and he tipped his chin the tiniest bit.
She turned as Seamus bent and picked up his bucket. Matron stood in the doorway, an expression of disapproval furrowing her brow.
‘Matron, I was just—’
‘I have drawn up a list of duties which you will commence immediately, Sister Dorset. Corporal Flanagan has been assigned to the ward as an orderly. Corporal—’ She pinned him with a look that assured Meg she wasn’t a woman to mess with. ‘Keep that label in mind every time you step into my ward.’
‘To be sure, Matron. I’ll be the orderliest orderly you’ve seen.’ A subtle wink in Meg’s direction and he headed off, whistling ‘It’s a Long Way to Tipperary’.
Avoiding Matron’s eye, Meg slipped back into the ward. She made her way to Matron’s desk, little more than card table size, but neat for all its lack of space, and stood, shoulders back and hands folded in front of her.
Matron took her seat and picked up a pencil, running the unsharpened end down lines of small print. Leaving a nurse waiting to make the point who was in charge had been a favourite trick of Meg’s superior at the teaching hospital in Sydney. But Meg was no fool. Stepping in to explain herself would guarantee an extra shift, or bedpan duty for as long as she was here. Meg waited.
At last, Matron looked up. ‘Even in a war zone—especially in a war zone—it’s important to keep your distance and follow the rules, Sister.’
‘I understand, Matron. That was drummed into us by Matron Phillips during training. “Compassion, caring, but no cuddling” was her advice.’
Soft whistling in the ward caught Meg’s attention—Tipperary.
Matron glanced past Meg and pressed her lips together. ‘Excellent advice. Make sure you follow it, Dorset.’
‘Yes, Matron. Which patients would you like me to check first?’
‘Start with Simpson in the far corner.’ The pencil pointed towards a patient with two arms in plaster. Her tone and expression softened. ‘And Sister, I know you lost a patient this morning, but don’t let it discourage you. There will be many more losses—and wins—before this is over. Every soldier you nurse back to health is a victory. Remember that.’
Touched by her superior’s words, Meg lifted her chin and found her smile. As far as chastisements went, she’d got off lightly. ‘Thank you, Matron. I won’t forget that.’