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January 1946
‘It opens at half-past nine.’ Meg turned from the notice and pressed herself against the brick wall at the entrance to the Records office. In typical midsummer fashion, the day had burst forth in a wall of heat and still air, and the narrow patch of shade from the door hood gave little relief. ‘It seems hotter than Townsville, but I’m sure that can’t be right.’
Geoffrey’s head was in the shade but the rest of his body was in the sun. He squinted into the bright light. ‘The heat bounces off the pavement as well as rising through the soles of our shoes, so the effect is intensified. Did you bring the thermos of water?’
‘Yes. Would you like some now?’
Behind her, the sound of a key being turned in the lock caught her attention.
‘They’re opening. Let’s deal with the paperwork first.’
Meg stepped through the door being held open by a middle-aged man who looked less than pleased to see customers already on his doorstep. Once in the main office, they waited while he raised a hinged flap and stepped behind the polished timber counter before approaching his window.
‘How may I be of assistance?’ He looked to Geoffrey for an answer.
Meg began to explain, and the clerk’s eyebrows rose as he turned his attention from Geoffrey to her. ‘The form was handed in before Christmas and—’
‘There is quite a back log of work to get through. Christmas is our busiest period. Everyone wants their file attended to first. I’ll have a look and see if your form has been submitted or if it’s waiting lodgement. Name?’
‘Dorset—Ransom. Sorry. We were only just married before Christmas.’
The clerk flicked through a pile of forms, the rubber tip on his finger moving precisely and slowly. Somewhere around the middle he stopped and drew one out. ‘Application by Geoffrey and Margaret Ransom for the release of adoption records relating to one Jennifer Dorset.’
‘That’s us. Jennifer is our daughter.’ Geoffrey, bless him, was already claiming Jennifer as his own child.
‘No, the form hasn’t been lodged yet. From its place in the pile, it will likely be two weeks before we get to it.’ The clerk looked at Geoffrey.
His focus on her husband was beginning to irk Meg. This was her daughter they were talking about. Her child who was lost to her. She leaned on the counter and pinned him with the same direct look she used on difficult patients. ‘How can we expedite that?’
‘Every request takes its turn.’
‘But this is about my—our daughter.’ There was a sharp edge in her voice she regretted the moment it slipped out. It hinted at loss of control. Quickly, she cleared her throat. Use your nurse voice. Control. Control. Control. ‘She was wrongfully adopted before we were demobilised and returned home.’
The clerk’s gaze narrowed on Meg. ‘You were in the services?’
Geoffrey leaned against the counter and nodded. ‘Doctor and nurse. My wife was in the Darwin and Townville bombings, and she was the first Flying Angel when we started air evacuations of wounded soldiers.’
Now the clerk was staring at her. ‘You were an angel? My son was repatriated late last year. We had him home for Christmas Day. He wouldn’t talk about what happened to him over there, but he talked about the flight home. Said he had the prettiest nurse caring for him.’ His gaze narrowed on her. ‘Could have been you.’
Meg ignored the sideways compliment. There was too much at stake. Normally, she was reticent about her work and the men she had brought home, but the connection was too precious not to make use of. Not when it might mean bringing her little girl home sooner. ‘He could have been on my flight. I was one of the last angels to leave. That’s why my daughter was taken by the nuns; because I was bringing our men home on those final flights.’
‘It might have been you.’ The clerk set their form on the counter and picked up an official looking stamp. ‘I’ll see that this form goes in today.’
Meg exhaled, and her relief lent a quiver to her ‘Thank you.’ She couldn’t say more.
The clerk nodded and set the form in an empty tray labelled ‘Out’.
Geoffrey took Meg’s arm, and they left the building. She could have been walking on air for all she noticed the hot footpath. ‘I can’t believe it was that easy.’
‘Sometimes, good things happen, Margaret. Now, I’m going to catch a tram out to the hospital at Herston. Would you like to accompany me?’
‘What would I do while you have your orientation?’
‘Look around. If you like what you see, you could apply to work there.’ He grinned. ‘It could be like old times, working together in theatre.’
Meg felt the old tug of attraction. To be working in an operating theatre beside Geoffrey would be wonderful. Their efficient work flow; the sense of achievement of a surgery that had gone well. ‘We were good together, weren’t we?’ She thought about those times, enjoying the memory.
‘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, then two. 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 at work 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.