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The following day
‘I’m sorry but we’ve exhausted all avenues at this point.’
Despite the open windows the office was stuffy with the smell of leather and legal tomes. Roger sat on the other side of his wide desk; Meg’s file lay open in front of him. She couldn’t lift her gaze from the gilt edging of the green tooled-leather insert. If she did, she would explode. But it wasn’t Roger’s fault. Clenching her hands in her lap, she worked to control her breathing.
Beside her, Geoffrey set an arm on the desk and leaned forward. ‘What you’re saying is that there’s nothing we can do until the government offices reopen in the new year?’
At last, Meg looked up.
Roger spread his hands and met her gaze. ‘I’m sorry to have to give you this news, Margaret, but they refused. I even tried offering to pay a premium if they would put your request through before the office closed for the Christmas holiday, but everyone seems determined to start their celebrations early. No exceptions, they said.’
‘So we won’t be able to celebrate our first Christmas with Jennifer.’
‘Not this year, my dear.’ Geoffrey reached across and took her hand in his.
Were all these bad things happening because she was a bad person? In the back of Meg’s mind, her father’s voice laid down judgement. Those who do not follow God’s will shall be punished. He’d been referring to a young, unwed mother whose child had been stillborn, but Meg could hear the same response being given to her. After all she’d endured, and in spite of her marriage yesterday, in her parents’ eyes, Meg would also be a fallen woman. If bad things happened to her, it was her own fault. The knowledge sat like a stone in her stomach.
Roger was shaking his head. ‘I’m afraid not, unless you’ve had any luck reaching the Anglican archbishop?’
Geoffrey drummed his fingers on the desk. ‘Not yet. We delivered our petition requesting his assistance in reuniting our family, but he may not have even seen it yet.’
‘In that case, and as hard as it is, all I can suggest is that you make what you can of our first peaceful Christmas in years and be waiting on the doorstep of the records office when they reopen.’
Gripping her handbag in one hand, Meg stood. The muscles in her neck and back were tight but she extended her other hand to Roger. She couldn’t muster even half a smile as they shook hands. ‘Thank you for what you’ve done for us so far.’
‘I only wish my news were better.’
‘You’ve gone above and beyond for us, Roger. We’re very grateful for your help. All the best to you and your family.’ Geoffrey set a hand on Meg’s back and held the door as she exited. They didn’t speak until they were out on the footpath.
Queen Street was abuzz with pedestrians and a bell clanged as a tram approached a nearby stop. The street wore a festive air thanks to the council’s encouragement of businesses to decorate. Garlands were strung along shop fronts and even the tram—their number, Meg noted—carried a Christmas wreath in its front window.
So much joy all around. Her sense of loss would crush her if she let it. Reminding herself they had done all they could, she held her head high.
‘Would you like to head home, Margaret, or shall we call into the tea shop and revise our plans?’
‘Tea would be nice.’ She slipped her arm through his and they headed down to the Brisbane Arcade. Her only plan had been watching her daughter opening Christmas presents and sharing their first proper Christmas together. Nothing could replace one more year lost, but Vera was gone, Gerry was grieving, and Geoffrey—dear Geoffrey—deserved so much more than gloom and doom from her.
They turned into the arcade, and natural light from overhead clerestory windows flooded the space. Passing several polished timber shopfronts, they stopped in front of the tearoom. Geoffrey peered through the stained-glass window. ‘It’s still open.’ He opened the door and held it for Meg. ‘After you.’
A waitress seated them at a corner table where a piece of blue glass gave Meg the sense of hiding behind it while allowing her to look through an adjacent piece of clear glass at the passing foot traffic.
Geoffrey ordered a pot of tea and a plate of sandwiches then turned his full attention on her. ‘I regret that we won’t have our daughter with us for our first Christmas.’
Our daughter.
Our belonged to Seamus, and maybe even to Vera who had cared for Jennifer like her own child. And yet each time Geoffrey said that she felt a flutter in her stomach. If they could find Jennifer, the three of them would be a family. When we find her, not if.
Clinging to that hope, she dragged in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘I’m trying not to think about it for the moment. But I agree we need to revise our plans. We could try to find a chicken for Christmas lunch. What did you have in mind?’
‘If you’re up to it, we could do some Christmas shopping. I know Jennifer won’t be here for Christmas Day, but we can save her presents until she’s home. What do you think?’
‘Delay Christmas?’ She nodded slowly. ‘I’ve dreamed of watching her open her presents since she was born, and last Christmas, when she might have had some idea what it was about, I couldn’t get leave.’
‘You agree then? After our tea and sandwiches, we go shopping?’
‘Yes.’ And when they had Jennifer’s present, Meg was going to look for a gift for Gerry. And Geoffrey. ‘You’ve already given me my present.’
‘The peignoir was for our wedding, Margaret. Christmas is different and—’
‘I didn’t mean that. What you’ve given me is far beyond anything else. It’s the greatest gift of all right now. You’ve given me hope.’
##
Geoffrey set the potted plant on the corner of the table in the lounge room and stepped back to admire the effect. ‘You were right. That green tablecloth looks festive under the red leaves. Do you want me to bring in the presents and put them around the tree?’
Meg looked at their makeshift Christmas tree and shook her head. Geoffrey had carefully dug up the small poinsettia with its bright-red leaves and together, they had potted it. ‘No, I’ll make a few decorations for it first.’ Geoffrey was out the back chopping wood for the kitchen range and she was in the middle of adorning the tree when Gerry came home from her first shift back at the Herston Women’s Hospital.
She put her bag on the nearest chair and stood beside Meg, unbuttoning her nurse’s cape. ‘What on earth— I thought we weren’t celebrating this year?’
‘We weren’t, but then Geoffrey and I had a talk. Here – your turn. Put this on the tree.’ Meg handed her a star made of foil.
Gerry looked at the decoration lying on her palm before attaching it to the topmost branch of the poinsettia. She tipped her head to one side then the other. ‘It’s lopsided.’
True, it sat a little wonky, but light glinted off it like tiny slivers of hope. ‘That suits what this year has been – wonky.’ Meg took Gerry’s hand and squeezed. ‘This Christmas isn’t going to be what we had hoped, not for any of us. Vera is gone and there’s nothing we can do to change that. Jennifer is missing, but we’ve done all that’s humanly possible to find her. She will come home, soon, please God. But the war is over. We’re together and we’re safe. We have peace at last, and that is worth celebrating, don’t you think?’
Gerry nodded. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but she smiled – a wonky smile that matched their wonky star. ‘You’re right. We have to look for the good things and celebrate them.’
‘Right. So say your prayers because I’m cooking dinner and you know what sort of cook I am.’
Gerry laughed. ‘I’ll pray it’s edible while I have a quick bath.’
Geoffrey joined them around the tree. His hair was damp and his cheeks flushed from his wood-chopping, but he smiled. ‘Are we looking at scrambled eggs and burnt toast then?’
‘As long as no one distracts me, it might not be burnt.’ She’d never be the best cook in the house, but Meg was determined to make a start on her vow to control her life. Starting with something simple – dinner.
‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Gerry left.
Moments later, Meg heard the bathroom door open and the sound of water splashing into the bathtub.
‘I need to make a couple of phone calls. Before I decide between the two positions I’ve been offered, I need more information.’
‘You’ve had two offers? I didn’t know.’ She had no idea how that had slipped past her, that Geoffrey had been actively pursuing a civilian job since his arrival.
Geoffrey met her gaze. ‘You have enough to worry about without me burdening you further. Unless—’
‘I’d like to hear about them.’
‘In that case, I’ll join you in the kitchen after I’ve made the calls. If I’m lucky, there might be a beer in the cool box.’ He smiled and walked out of the room.
Meg looked at their unusual Christmas tree. They could plant it in the garden later, but it would stay alive in the pot for as long as it took to bring Jennifer home. Then they would share Christmas with her.
Meg took a knife out to the vegie patch and cut lettuce and cherry tomatoes for a salad. She was rinsing the lettuce in a colander when Geoffrey returned. ‘You’re in luck. There’s a bottle of beer.’ She turned the tap off, grabbed a clean tea towel, and patted excess moisture from the lettuce leaves.
‘Thanks.’ Geoffrey sounded distracted as he collected a glass and the bottle of beer and sat at the table. He uncapped the beer then sat looking at the bottle.
‘Did you find out what you needed to make your decision?’
‘I got the information I needed, but now I’m less sure than ever about which to choose.’ He poured the beer, keeping the foamy head to less than half an inch, the way he liked it.
‘Are they both surgical positions?’ Meg ripped the lettuce leaves into smaller pieces and added them to a salad bowl.
‘Yes. One is working under Dr Hepworth.’
She turned and looked at him in surprise. ‘The surgeon who’s doing facial reconstructive work on soldiers?’
‘That’s the one. He was trained by Henry Pickerill, the New Zealander who trained under Gillies in England after the first world war.’
‘That would be such an opportunity for you.’
‘The idea excites me. The position offers a chance to do research and to be hands on as new techniques offer hope. Too often, soldiers with terrible facial wounds struggle with the idea of their loved ones seeing them so changed.’ Geoffrey had said he was excited, but he didn’t sound as enthused as Meg expected, given how much of an opportunity the position offered. ‘What’s the catch?’
He sighed. ‘The position is in Sydney, and he wants me to start at the beginning of January. I asked if there was any possibility of delaying the start, but he said no. They have long waiting lists of injured soldiers. The second week of January was as late as he would allow.’
‘Oh dear.’ Meg pulled out a chair and sank onto it. If Geoffrey accepted the position, she couldn’t go with him. Not yet. It was unlikely they would have Jennifer restored to them by then, if their experience so far was anything to go by. And then there was the location. Her family, who knew nothing of her child, were in Sydney. But how could she hold him back if this was where he saw his life’s work? ‘And the second position?’
‘Is here in Brisbane. Head of Surgery at the University of Queensland’s medical school in Herston.’
‘Surely a position where you are in charge would be preferable?’
‘It’s definitely tempting to consider shaping the development of the new medical school. I’d be overseeing surgeons who are developing new techniques in a range of surgeries, as well as medical students specialising in surgery.’
‘But?’
‘I’m torn. If it weren’t for Jennifer, I’d jump at the chance of working with Hepworth, but I don’t see how I can accept his offer while we’re looking for her.’
To Meg, the choice was simple. She had to remain in Brisbane, but she understood Geoffrey’s dilemma. ‘When do you have to decide?’
‘The day after Boxing Day for Hepworth’s offer, and the second of January for the university position.’ He looked into his glass as though the answer was written in its foam. Suddenly he lifted his head and sniffed. ‘The toast – it’s burning.’
Meg grabbed the toasting fork out of the fire and tossed it into the sink. The black slice of bread hung off the tines and made a mockery of her efforts at control. If she couldn’t toast a simple slice of bread without burning it, how on earth could she help her husband with his dilemma?
Enough negative thinking.
She turned to face him and gripped the edge of the sink behind her. ‘Accept the position that will fulfil you. If that’s Sydney, then we’ll find a way to make it work. I’ll stay here with Gerry until I’ve recovered Jennifer, and we’ll join you when we can.’
##
Late that night, unable to sleep, Meg slipped out of bed and tip-toed out to the swing seat. Curling into a ball, she lay her head on a cushion, and looked across the road at the park. A sliver of starry sky appeared and disappeared as the seat gently rocked. Time passed – she had no idea how much – while her thoughts floated in the darkness.
The front door opened, and Geoffrey stepped out. Sleep-tousled and wearing only pyjama trousers in the hot night, he padded bare-footed to the swing. ‘Is everything okay? Did the heat keep you awake?’
‘Partly that.’ She sat up and made room for him beside her. As he sat, he set the seat rocking.
‘And the other part?’
‘Not being able to see far turned my thoughts inward. Marriage is about sharing, and—maybe—not keeping secrets from one another.’
‘Is there a secret that’s keeping you awake?’
‘A half-truth. I didn’t tell you the whole story about my family.’
‘I know you have a couple of siblings; they and your parents all live somewhere in Sydney and couldn’t make it to our wedding. Other than that—’
‘Your dream job is in Sydney.’ She couldn’t stop the odd inflection her fear of what waited at home gave to the city’s name.
He took her hand, twining their fingers together. ‘I’m sorry but I’m not seeing what your point is. I know the only important thing right now is finding Jennifer, but I thought you’d be delighted about the prospect of returning to the city where your family lives?’
‘It’s all about Jennifer.’ Just not in the way Geoffrey meant.
‘We’ll stay here in Brisbane, and we’ll find her. It might take longer than you would like, but I’ll be content with the job at Herston. Heaven knows there’ll be plenty to occupy me there.’
‘Content isn’t the same as excited.’
‘Margaret, look at me.’ When she met his gaze, he continued. ‘I’ll be happy wherever we are because we’ll be together. I should have immediately thanked Dr Hepworth for his offer and told him that the timing wasn’t right for me. I’ll call him tomorrow and—’
‘On Christmas Day? No. Think about what you’re throwing away if you reject his offer.’
‘I know what I’ll be gaining by staying here – my family. But I sense something more than timing is an issue. I thought you’d jump at the idea of heading home to your family. Was I wrong?’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘Try me.’
For so long she had bottled up her feelings and now, unstoppering them felt like ripping off a bandage stuck to a wound. But she had to try. Geoffrey needed to understand.
‘You know the circumstances of Jennifer’s conception and birth, yet you married me anyway, and offered to adopt my daughter as your own. Not once did you judge me for the choices I made.’
‘Of course I didn’t. No one should.’ He paused.
He left a silence that waited for her to agree but saying it would be a betrayal of her parents. She said nothing.
‘I imagine your family will be keen to meet her?’
There had always been something about sitting side by side in the dark that seduced her into sharing secrets. She’d done it before, in Townsville. It was the not seeing that made it possible. She spoke to the trees and set free the shattering truth. ‘They don’t know she exists.’
Silence from Geoffrey. She imagined him grappling with the truth while she rocked, cocooned within the darkness.
At last, he spoke. ‘I don’t understand. She’s three years old.’ He set the seat swinging. Even in the shadows of the veranda, she could just make out his frown. ‘Why haven’t you told them about her?’
‘I planned to tell them I was expecting as soon as Seamus and I were married. I thought we’d fudge the month of our wedding—make it the date we got engaged, which was close enough to— Well, you get the idea. If we did that, all would be well. But when he died, I couldn’t tell them I was about to become an unwed mother. They would have told me I’d reaped what I’d sown.’ Bitterness filled her as she imagined her mother’s tone of voice and her father’s glare, their disappointment in their only daughter.
‘Would they, Margaret? I can’t imagine the people who brought you into the world would turn their backs on their daughter and granddaughter.’
‘Your family must be more forgiving. Mine are models of rectitude. Acknowledging me and my daughter would mean my father couldn’t maintain his position as an elder of their church. It’s not possible.’
‘But we’re married now. Surely that—’
‘Will count for nothing. They’ll never accept my daughter because of her birth. Illegitimate at birth, barely tolerated through life. That’s their Christian view.’
‘If that’s true then it’s sad. But can you know that for sure? What if you give them a chance?’
‘If you accept the position with Dr Hepworth and we end up in Sydney, there is no way I’ll risk them hurting Jennifer by refusing to acknowledge her. It’s my job to protect her, even if that means she has nothing to do with my family.’
‘I’m—confused. Are you telling me you want me to take the job in Sydney, or that you’ll hate going back there?’
‘I want you to take the job that makes you happy and if that’s in Sydney, then I’ll live with it. It’s a big city. I mean—it’s not likely I’ll run into my family when I go shopping. They live a fair way south of the city. We could live in the northern suburbs near the beach. Jennifer would like that.’ From reluctantly opening up about her parents, now Meg couldn’t stop the flow of words. She was gabbling. She never gabbled but—
‘Margaret, enough.’ Spoken gently, Geoffrey’s soft comment was all it took to settle her.
‘You’re a practical, level-headed woman, but this situation with your family has you tied in knots. Let’s leave it until the morning to unravel them, shall we. Now, would you like some hot cocoa to help you sleep?’
‘Yes please.’
He patted her hand and rose, setting the seat rocking with more force than usual. ‘Stay there and I’ll be back soon.’
Meg curled her legs up and waited for her heartbeat to settle. Geoffrey was right. Whenever she thought about seeing her family, she grew agitated, and emotion clouded her response. He didn’t know her family, but he had the advantage of thinking about the situation from a different perspective. Was he right that there might be a way back to them?