| |
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 mentioned the 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.
‘That’s me.’ Meg stood, smoothed down her skirt, and followed the nurse into an office.
‘Matron will be with you shortly.’ The nurse slipped out on rubber-soled shoes that squeaked only a little on the linoleum floor, closing the door behind her.
Meg took her resumé from her handbag and flattened the folds as best she could. The door opened and she half-turned on the seat. Seeing a woman wearing a matron’s cap, she rose and shook the hand extended to her.
‘How do you do? Sister Dorset, isn’t it?’
‘That’s correct.’ They each took a seat and Meg handed her resumé to Matron Lewis. Her qualifications and service record all carried her maiden name. If she won a position here, she’d tell them then and hope that would be sufficient to explain why she hadn’t given her married name. ‘I’m keen to work on surgical wards again.’ She waited while the matron examined her work history.
‘You were in both Darwin and Townsville when they were bombed, and Sister-in-charge of Currajong. We have staff who worked there during the war. Do you know Sister Platt?’
Meg hadn’t expected to be asked about Currajong. ‘I do. We worked together for a couple of years on and off. She loves working on the maternity ward whereas I love surgery.’
‘Your service record is exemplary, and I see you worked under Dr Ransom for several months. He’s Head of Surgery here now. Perhaps I should give him a call and see if he’s free to join us. I believe he would appreciate working with you again.’ She picked up the phone and requested ‘Dr Ransom’s office please.’
##
Feeling guilty and embarrassed, Meg contemplated the awkward position she’d put Geoffrey in, and how he might react when he saw her here.
Why hadn’t she thought of this possibility?
Stiffening her spine, she looked straight ahead as a brief knock was followed by the door opening behind her.
Matron smiled and stood. ‘Dr Ransom, I have a sister with whom you worked during the war. You mentioned wanting another experienced surgical nurse and she’s looking for a surgical position. I thought you might like to speak to her today.’
Meg stood and slowly turned. Her gaze met Geoffrey’s and for a moment, it was as though he were seeing her for the first time.
Then he held out a hand. ‘Margaret, how unexpected to see you here.’
‘Dr Ransom, I should have let you know I was coming in for an interview. I’m sorry I didn’t.’
Geoffrey looked at the matron. ‘Thank you for calling me, Matron. If you don’t mind, I’ll take the sister up to my office to complete the interview, and perhaps we can catch up about old times.’
‘Certainly, Doctor.’ Matron Lewis smiled as she handed over Meg’s resumé. ‘I expect you’ll already know much about Sister Dorset’s work.’
‘I expect I shall. Thank you. After you, Sister Dorset.’ He opened the door for her then took her arm as they walked along the corridor.
‘Geoffrey, I’m truly sorry I didn’t mention I was doing this but—’
‘Leave it until we’re in my office, Margaret.’ He looked straight ahead. Once inside his office, he closed the door and leaned against it. ‘What’s changed?’
‘You mean about—’
‘I mean, you were absolutely certain you wanted to stay at home with Jennifer after we got her back, and I supported your decision, and now, six months on, you’re applying for a surgical position in my hospital without telling me you planned to do so. I ask again, what’s changed?’ Geoffrey never raised his voice. He was the calmest man she knew, but he was annoyed. Maybe angry, but she couldn’t tell if it because she wanted to work, or because she hadn’t told him first.
‘I love my daughter, but I miss working in surgery. I miss working with you and working through difficult operations together. Today was mostly about seeing what might be available . . . If there might be an opening—’
‘You could have just asked me, Margaret.’
She nodded and rolled her lips together. ‘I didn’t want to get a job because you’re my husband. I want a position here on my merits, but I never expected the matron to call you in. I thought we could talk about it tonight – if I was offered a place. I’m sorry.’
Geoffrey sighed and pushed away from the door. ‘You caught me by surprise today, but I never thought you’d stay at home with Jennifer forever. You could be working on my ward again. On your own merits, not because you’re my wife. You’re a fine nurse, Margaret. One of the best I’ve worked with, but you know that already. The only question I see is, what do we do about Jennifer?’
‘There is a kindergarten near the hospital which gives priority to working mothers. Gerry’s patients told her about it, and she mentioned it last week.’
Hurt flashed through his gaze and he frowned. ‘Were you talking to Gerry about going back to work before you told me? I thought we had a good marriage; that we could talk about any problems and solve them together?’
The idea clearly pained him, and she mentally kicked herself for phrasing it poorly. ‘No, I said nothing to Gerry. She mentioned the kindergarten in the context of an article I was reading in your medical journal. About advances in childbirth practice and her clients.’
Meg perched on a chair and pulled off her gloves. ‘Geoffrey, my dear, I want you to know I’m happy in our marriage. You are the best of all husbands, and I’m incredibly grateful to be married to you. But last week, after reading that journal, I realised how terribly I was missing working in an operating theatre. And as much as I love Jennifer, I miss the exchange of ideas and adult conversation, and the solving of medical problems.’
His gaze shuttered before he picked up a file sitting neatly in the middle of his blotter and opened it. ‘In that case, it’s time for you to return to work. If you can get Jennifer into the childcare centre, you can start immediately. Matron was right; I do need another experienced theatre nurse.’
Meg reeled as if a physical barrier had been thrown up between them. Something wasn’t right, and she had no idea what had changed. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’
‘I said I don’t.’ He barely glanced at her. Had he truly accepted her explanation?
‘Then there is one other thing that we should probably consider.’
‘Only one?’ He closed the file around one finger and met her gaze at last. His contained a wealth of pain.
What did I say? Is it because I want to work instead of stay at home?
But since this was a day for discussions, she ploughed on. ‘Yes, one I believe is relevant to this discussion. I thought by now I might be pregnant. It’s early days, of course, and I could fall pregnant tomorrow, but I understand why employers are less keen to employ married women.’
He held up one hand and she fell silent. ‘This is—hard to tell you, but now is as good a time as any. I wondered why our relations haven’t been fruitful, since we’ve been intimate often enough. We know you’re fertile; Jennifer is proof of that. But I considered the problem might lie with me so . . . I had a test. It seems I have low sperm motility, which means you may never fall pregnant. I’m sorry, Margaret.’
‘Oh, Geoffrey, you have nothing to be sorry for. That must have been a blow to hear, but – surely it doesn’t mean that it’s impossible for us to have a child? Low doesn’t mean no chance.’
‘You’re correct. There is still a chance. I’ll pick up some condoms if that will reassure you. Why don’t we set a time frame for you to work before we try for a baby? Say, two years?’
He was so practical about everything, even about this possibility that they might not make a child together. Perhaps he’d only just got the test results and that was why he was behaving oddly?
Feeling doubly grateful for his gentle fathering of her daughter, she reached out a hand and touched his arm. ‘Thank you, Geoffrey. That’s generous of you. I— Thank you.’
‘Let me know when you’ve heard from the kindergarten and I’ll let Matron know you’ll be joining us. There is one condition.’
Even with Geoffrey’s odd mood, Meg’s heart felt light at the prospect of nursing again. ‘Anything.’
‘You will join my staff as Sister Ransom, and everyone will know that you are my wife.’
Meg nodded. ‘I’ll be very happy with that.’
‘You’re my wife, and the best surgical nurse I’ve worked with. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have patients to attend.’