Gibber’s Creek Gazette, 3 July 1975
Cairns Dismissed!
Treasurer Jim Cairns was dismissed as deputy prime minister yesterday over his attempt to raise nearly $200 million for improvements in Melbourne’s struggling western suburbs . . .
Editorial: Labor Cabinet in Turmoil
As Prime Minister Whitlam ousts long-time supporters Dr Cairns and Clyde Cameron from his cabinet, and with the resignation of Mr Barnard, it appears that rifts and secret deals continue to dog the government . . .
MATRON CLANCY
Moira Clancy sat in River View’s office with Gavin in her arms as the adoption inspectors, Ms Fellows and Mr Castelli, gazed at their paperwork. Gavin was large for her lap these days, but this way she could hold his arms, and his legs could mirror the movement of hers, a vital sensory workout in addition to his daily therapies.
‘I assure you, I am entirely qualified.’
‘Matron Clancy, we accept both your qualifications and experience,’ said Ms Fellows gently. ‘We are mostly concerned about your single status and . . .’ she looked faintly embarrassed ‘. . . your age.’
‘I believed that the age and marriage qualifications for adoptions were not enforced with children classified as “disabled”.’
‘True,’ said Mr Castelli. ‘But forgive my being blunt. You will be sixty this year. Gavin will need lifelong care.’
Moira automatically began to clap Gavin’s hands together, so routine now she rarely thought of it. ‘My sister-in-law and partner at River View, Mrs Nancy Thompson, will take on his guardianship if anything happens to me.’
‘But Mrs Thompson is,’ he coughed, ‘not a young woman either. Ms Clancy, you don’t quite see . . .’
Porridge words, deceptively wholesome. You couldn’t fight porridge, too amorphous to take hold of. This porridge, so well meant, would deprive Gavin of any legal family at all, condemn him to be a ward of the state forever.
She turned Gavin to gaze into his eyes, the only way this child could communicate — so far. He gazed at her with trust. But what did she have left to fight with? Her experience and qualifications had not forced the porridge back, not even the Thompson name and money.
‘Please,’ she pleaded, for that was all she had left.
‘Excuse me, Matron?’ Jed Kelly stood at the door. ‘I brought you the swimming therapy reports. I’m afraid I couldn’t help overhearing.’ She turned to the two inspectors. ‘My name is Jed Kelly. Matron Clancy is my great-aunt by marriage.’ Several marriages, thought Moira, dazed. What was Jed doing? A testament from her would be kind, but would carry no weight at all.
‘I would be delighted to take on any future guardianship of Gavin. Though the Thompson women do live a very long time, as my great-grandmother will tell you. I don’t have any formal qualifications in childcare or therapy, but I’ve worked here as a volunteer for six years. I have my own house and am financially independent.’
‘Are you married, Ms Kelly?’ Ms Fellows looked pointedly at her bare left hand.
‘My partner, Sam McAlpine, recently asked me to be his wife,’ said Jed with a deeply innocent smile.
Moira buried her face in Gavin’s baby-scented hair to hide her expression. All of Gibber’s Creek knew Jed had refused Sam.
Mr Castelli smiled. In relief, thought Moira dazedly, for this was a good man who had not liked dealing in porridge. ‘I’m quite sure a girl like you will be married long before there is any issue with Gavin’s guardianship. We would need to inspect your house, of course, if you’re prepared to put your name on the documents too. Just a formality.’
‘Of course.’ Jed’s smile would have sweetened an entire pot of rhubarb. ‘This afternoon if you like. Though you’ll need to excuse the mess of books on the dining-room table. My adopted sister is doing her HSC this year. She used to live at River View too, like Gavin. She was ten years old before she could even lift a spoon. Now she plans to do medicine. She may be the university’s first doctor to graduate in a wheelchair.’
‘We are incredibly proud of her,’ said Moira, shifting so Gavin could see Jed. You clever girl, she thought. Such a tactful way to tell them you know exactly what you would be taking on with the care of a limited mobility child. You extraordinary girl.
But she would live to a hundred and twenty, if necessary, for Gavin. And now she did not have to tell the inspectors what, even when waking petrified at four am, she tried not to accept: that if there was no significant improvement soon, Gavin was unlikely to live even to ten years old.
She tried not to cry as Jed gave the inspectors her address at Dribble and arranged to meet them after lunch, then walked them to the door, Gavin balanced over her shoulder, his eyes undoubtedly taking in every detail of the office, Miss Forty sitting at her typewriter, neat as always in her starched white dress.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered to Jed.
Jed smiled. She bent and kissed the top of Gavin’s head. ‘You’d better be playing football by the time you’re Scarlett’s age, kid. And talking about it, or you’ll have to listen to her describe every appendectomy. I’ll leave the reports on your desk,’ she added tactfully to Moira, who carefully did not lean against the doorway, or sob, or cry for hours, days, at the tragedies of life, but held close its joys instead.
One of which was warm in her arms. And damp. ‘Time for a dry nappy, darling,’ she said to Gavin. ‘Come with Mummy now.’ She felt Jed and Miss Forty watch her as she headed for the bathroom.