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The easterly wind carried a cloud of dust towards Meg as an army truck pulled up in front of the mess hall, brakes squealing in protest. At least it had arrived from the south, so that meant no new patients. A good thing, given how full the wards were. Shading her eyes against the grit and slowly settling dust, and keen to see what supplies had arrived, Meg waited for the unloading to begin. The tailgate dropped and bags of cement and metal rods came into view.
Doubtful her replacement issue of uniform items would have accompanied a load of building materials, she sighed and slipped into the mess tent. ‘Any chance of a late lunch, Cookie? Even a sandwich?’
Burly arms and a crooked nose gave Cookie the look of an aging pugilist rather than a cook, but he was a kind man. Not much taller than Meg, he had to lift his chin to peer into the pot he was stirring. Apparently satisfied, he banged the ladle on the rim and set the utensil down. ‘No problem, Sister. You sit yourself down and I’ll bring you a tray.’
‘You’re a legend, Cookie. Thank you. I’ll be happy with a Spam sandwich this late in the day.’ Her stomach gurgled, betraying her desperate need for food. There was precious little time for rest or relaxation, or sometimes even grabbing a meal since the 119 Australian General Hospital had moved south following the bombing of Darwin. Precious little time with Seamus, and never enough to satisfy, but they cobbled together enough snatched moments to keep them both going. At least they were both stationed in the same place.
For now. She sat at the end of the long table nearest the front of the mess and watched the first few bags of cement being tossed down.
Cookie handed over a tray with a generous serving of hash and veggies then set a cup of tea in front of her. ‘Get that into you, Sister.’ He leaned on the table and watched the unloading. ‘That cement will be to make blast walls for the new telephone exchange.’
‘We’re getting a telephone exchange here? That seems excessive when Darwin’s just up the road.’
Rolls of camouflage netting were tossed from the back of the truck on top of the bags of cement and Cookie nodded at them. ‘Blast walls and camo netting. They’re setting up a bigger military post here. The River is going to become a key part of our northern defences.’
‘Are they abandoning Darwin then?’
Cookie met her eyes. Sympathy had filled his each time she mentioned Darwin, and she wondered if her fear still showed. Nightmares about the bombing haunted most of her nights, but Mary, with whom she shared a tent, simply shook her awake and chatted until Meg settled.
‘We won’t abandon the port, but it suffered so much damage, it will take time to make it fully operational again. Even when it is, think about how exposed it is. We need heavy artillery up there for the next time the Japs attack.’
‘The next—’ Her heart thudded hard. The shakes that came with the memory of falling bombs were almost as bad as her nightmares, but worse, they were visible. Anyone and everyone could see and know she was a coward. Clenching her hands, she pressed her nails into her palms and swallowed the lump of fear. A nurse had to be stronger than this. A nurse had to make her patients feel safe. Meg sucked in a painful breath. ‘So you think they will? Attack, that is?’ The hash she’d managed to eat sat heavy in her stomach and she dropped her fork onto the food heaped on her tray.
‘For sure. Darwin’s a strategic port.’
A chill rose in Meg, like a slow leaching away of heat and life. Of course the Japanese would return. Of course they would drop more bombs on Darwin. And every other town and city they could reach from their aircraft carriers. The only way she could do her job was to push the knowledge deep into her mind where it couldn’t sit on her shoulder like a vulture.
‘But the Japs won’t catch our RAAF like sitting ducks again. Those blokes can grade a short bush runway faster than the Japs can bomb one, and I heard tell there’s likely to be a few hidden in the bush. Not A-class ones, but still. Reckon we’ll be safe enough here, Sister.’
Safe enough? Meg nodded and summoned a smile. She wasn’t sure anywhere was safe in this war, but Cookie’s optimism helped bury the vulture. For now. ‘In that case, I’ll relax and enjoy this delicious meal then write a bright and happy letter to my parents.’
‘Good idea, and—Sister?’
‘What is it, Cookie?’
‘Any time you need cheering up, just pop into my kitchen. I’ve a broad shoulder and a fund of jokes, and if all else fails, there’s my secret stash of chocolate.’ He grinned and patted her shoulder.
‘Thanks, Cookie. That means a lot.’
##
Meg wrung out her washing, shook out her shirt then pegged it on the line Seamus had strung for her and Mary between their tent and a twelve-foot sapling. The late summer heat would dry her shirt and undergarments quickly, which was just as well. Two sets of clothes—one in the wash and one on her back—weren’t enough. Not when she lost a gallon of sweat in the normal course of a day. Sweat, dust, and flies – the summer trifecta, Dad called it.
She took a wooden peg from her pocket and hung her knickers as a pair of hands slid around her waist. In that first moment, Meg gasped before Seamus nuzzled her ear. ‘It’s just me. How’s my girl today?’
Setting her hands over his, she leaned against Seamus’s chest and closed her eyes. ‘Better now you’re here. Gosh, I’m tired.’
‘Long shift?’
She bit her lip and nodded. ‘And another nightmare. Honestly, I don’t know how Mary puts up with me.’
‘She must be a saint. You know I’d willingly replace her if I could. In my arms—’ His lips trailed kisses up her neck and she tipped her head to make it easier for him. ‘You wouldn’t have nightmares, macushla.’
If only Seamus could be by my side.
She lifted a hand and touched his cheek then slipped it around his neck, holding him like she’d never let him go. She didn’t want to let him go. Not ever. ‘Mmm, you make all my aches and fears disappear when you do that.’
‘What—this?’ He turned her around in his arms and claimed her lips. She had no chance to tell him to be careful or that someone might see them. She barely had time to draw breath before Seamus’s kiss made her forget where they were. Warm lips. Soft lips. Seamus’s lips. Even the war disappeared as she lost herself in him.
Am I in love?
When she was with him, she was certain of her feelings. Seamus was adventure and excitement, but he was also home. Safety. With him by her side she felt whole again.
Her arms encircled his neck as she pressed against him, loving him.
Love? The word felt right, and as he lifted his head and looked into her eyes, she tested it in her mind. I love you.
Seamus took a quick breath and set his forehead against hers. ‘Ah, Meg, when you look at me like that, I see all that’s good and beautiful in this world, and all I want is to be with you. To love you.’
‘You have the silver tongue of a poet.’
‘If it’s true, ’tis you who brings out the poet in me. I look at you and think of Galway’s green fields and summer rain soft as a butterfly wing on my cheek. One day, macushla, I’ll take you there and show you where I was born.’ He raised his head and his blue eyes—blue as the summer sea, she thought—pinned her.
‘Would you come with me, Meg?’
Her breath caught. His question was so much more than mere words. It was a promise. Hope. A future.
Would she leave her home and follow Seamus across the sea to Ireland?
‘Yes.’
##
‘Sister Dorset?’ Seamus stopped beside her at the foot of Simpson’s bed and spoke more softly. ‘Meg, can you get away for a few minutes?’
Meg finished writing up Simpson’s medical notes and gave her patient a smile before turning to Seamus. ‘I’ll be relieved in twenty minutes. Will that do?’
He glanced through the doorway and Meg’s gaze followed his. An army truck was offloading supplies into the mess tent and a small pile of kitbags sat off to one side. Gripping his arm, she asked, ‘Have your orders come through?’
He nodded, and a muscle in his cheek jumped. He took her hand and tugged her towards the supply ‘cupboard’, the curtained off section offering a little privacy.
Meg pulled the curtain across then gripped his hands. ‘Where are you going?’ She had to be strong. She would not cry. A handful wonderful nights making love with Seamus under the stars were not enough, but she wouldn’t send him off with tears and a blotchy face to remember her by.
‘Townsville for a start, then who knows. We’ve got to stop the Japs before they reach our shores.’
‘Active duty? But you’re not ready for that.’
‘My arm’s coming good, and I reckon the army needs all the able-bodied men it can get.’ He released one hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears, his fingers trailing away down her cheek. ‘You’ve got to admit, macushla—I’m definitely able-bodied.’
She caught his hand before it left her face and pressed her cheek into his palm. ‘In army jargon, your equipment’s all in excellent working order.’ Her smile trembled, and she blinked away tears that threatened to fall, despite her best intentions. ‘I’ll miss you, Seamus.’
‘And I, you. Meg, I know our time has been short, but—will you wait for me? Wait till I come home.’
‘You know I’m your girl.’
‘That you are, macushla. But I want more than that. I want to marry you and make a life together. Say you’ll marry me, Meg?’
Meg frowned. With all her heart she wanted to say yes, but she’d heard her mother’s stories about wartime weddings from the Great War. ‘They say wartime romances happen quickly because we don’t know which day will be our last. Is that why you’re asking me, Seamus?’
He slid both arms around her waist and pulled her close. ‘Of course we don’t know when our last day will be, but that’s true of life in or out of wartime. But I want to marry you because I love you, Meg. The only question is, do you love me enough to wait?’
She nodded slowly, slid her arms around his neck then pressed her lips to his. Seamus’s kisses made her forget the sounds of the ward, forget the war raging to the north. He made her forget everything except how wonderful she felt in his arms. The kind of wonderful she wanted to hold onto for the rest of her life. The kind of wonderful she had discovered on their blanket beneath the stars.
When he finally raised his head and rested his forehead against hers, his words were soft. ‘So that’s a yes then?’
A soft smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘Yes.’
‘She said yes.’ The loud voice belonged to Private Sanders in the bed closest to them.
Clapping erupted on the other side of the curtain, and when Seamus pulled it back, most of the patients were watching them.
Heat rose in Meg’s cheeks and her hands rose to cover them. She was happy. Deliriously happy. It lasted for thirty seconds, until Matron stepped into the ward, Meg and Seamus in her sights.
‘Have we won the war, and someone forgot to tell me?’ Her voice had a frosty edge at odds with the building heat outside and her gaze swept over each side of the ward, finally returning to Seamus standing tall by Meg’s side and holding her hand.
‘Corporal Flanagan, please unhand Sister Dorset.’
Seamus turned to Meg and raised her hand to his lips before releasing his hold. ‘Only a direct order could make me let you go.’ He walked towards Matron. ‘Will you spare my fiancée for a few minutes so we can say our goodbyes, pretty please, Matron?’
‘Fiancée, is it? Since when?’
‘About a minute ago, Matron,’ Simpson called out from his bed.
‘Right romantic it was, Matron,’ added Johnny Matthews in the bed next to Simpson.
Matron held up both hands and the good-natured joshing subsided. ‘Since you’ve apparently accepted this soldier’s proposal—against all advice to the contrary, Sister—you may have five minutes to send him on his way.’
‘Thank you, Matron.’ Meg grabbed Seamus’s hand on the way out of the ward and ran with him along the side of the hospital until they were out of sight of the soldiers unloading the truck. The unloading was almost finished, and Meg knew they had little time to say goodbye.
Her chest felt tight. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye, but that was the way of this beastly war. Too many goodbyes and no time to prepare for them.
At the rear of the hospital Seamus pulled her into his arms and kissed her, kisses that told her how much he loved her. Hers were more than a little desperate at the thought of not seeing him for weeks—months. She pulled back and held his face in her hands. ‘Don’t you dare let anything happen to you. Come back to me in one piece.’
‘You have my promise.’ He let her go, reached behind his neck and removed the chain she’d noticed under his dog tags. He held it out for her to see. ‘I don’t have a ring to give you, Meg, but I want you to wear my St Christopher medal. I know you aren’t Catholic, but, even though he’s the patron saint of travellers, I believe he’ll keep you safe while I’m away. Will you wear it?’
‘What about you? You’re the one going off to fight. I want you to stay safe. Why don’t you—’
Seamus reached around her neck and did up the clasp then kissed her, a soft kiss full of promise. ‘With my St Christopher medal, I take you as my bride-to-be.’
From the track, a truck horn blared, insistent, not to be refused.
‘I’ve got to go. Remember, I love you, Meg. I always will.’ He jogged backwards, blew her a kiss then turned the corner of the building and was gone.
Meg picked up the medal, warm from his skin. She pressed it to her lips. I’m engaged! Excitement coursed through her, mixed with a sharp sense of loss. His proposal was crazy and ridiculously quick and wonderful all at the same time.
How long would it be before he returned, and they could be married? How long before she became both wife and mother? Hugging herself, she let tears of both joy and sadness run down her cheeks and clung to the memory of Seamus’s kisses. Memory was all she had until he returned.
***
The signal from the Armed Forces radio show cut in and out before it settled. Frank Sinatra was crooning This Love of Mine, a big hit from the previous year. Meg looked around the group of off duty staff, both Aussies and a few Americans from down the road, and ambulatory patients. They were gathered in the mess tent to listen to the radio and drink tea. The Americans served alcohol at their social gatherings, so Mary had told her, but Meg had traded places to avoid such get togethers until tonight. Tonight, Mary had practically marched her into the mess tent and pushed her onto a chair.
‘Repeat after me: I will enjoy myself.’
‘I will try, Mary. I promise.’ With Seamus gone, Meg doubted her ability to enjoy the evening, but for her friend’s sake, she smiled. ‘Thanks for swapping shifts.’
‘Heaven knows, you’ve done the same for others. Dance, have fun, be young.’ Mary gave her a brief one-armed hug and hurried back to the ward.
Meg looked around to see who else had the night off. In the corner, Dr Hampton turned his back on the assembly and held his mug out. Cookie glanced towards Matron, who had agreed to one dance with Captain Keller. As the captain turned her away from them, Cookie— the source of Seamus’ beer that wonderful night they’d made love for the first time—tipped something into Doc’s mug and grinned before slipping the bottle into his pocket.
Meg rested her chin on her hand and set her elbow on her knee and sighed, wishing Seamus were here to dance with her. If she closed her eyes, she could see him and imagine him standing in front of her and saying—
‘Sister, may I have this dance?’
Her eyes sprang open and she sat up straight. Private Matthews, newly out of his hospital bed, stood in front of her, one hand extended and waiting for her answer.
Meg jumped to her feet. There were too few nurses, or too many men to make a refusal possible, no matter how much she wanted only to be in Seamus’ arms. ‘I’d be delighted, thank you, Matthews.’
‘I’ll try not to step on your toes, Sister.’ These Are the Things I Love began to play and Matthews grinned. ‘Jimmy Dorsey and his Orchestra with Bob Eberly—this is a top song, Sister. I’m going to learn to play it on my saxophone after I get home.’ He took her in his arms, not too close, and, as they began a slow circuit around the makeshift dance floor, he began humming, singing occasional snatches with the singer. ‘The gleam of love light in your lovely eyes’. He looked into hers. ‘Reckon that’s you, Sister, with love light in your eyes. Have you heard from your fiancé, if I’m not being forward in asking?’
She summoned a smile and shook her head, feeling the loss of Seamus like a physical weight on her heart. ‘Not yet, but it’s only been a couple of weeks.’
‘He’ll write when he can. All the blokes know you’re his girl and how sweet on you he is.’
‘A real whirlwind romance.’ Her gaze slipped over Matthews’s shoulder into the darkness beyond the tent. Out there was their special place, where they’d made a little slice of heaven all their own. Where Seamus had looked at her with love in his eyes. Where she’d told him she loved him too.
‘The look you give in answer to my pleas . . .’ The singer built to the song’s finale but the voice she heard belonged to Seamus: ‘Your sweet voice whispering darling, I love you, These are the things I love.’
As the song ended and Matthews escorted her back to her seat, thanking her for the dance, her thoughts winged to her beloved.
Stay safe, Seamus, wherever you are. I love you.