The Desert Midwife

by Fiona McArthur

  ‘So what do you do for water in the centre of the Australian desert?’

  ‘It’s not all desert. We have eighty kilometres of frontage to the Finke River, though most of that runs water thirty feet below the surface, so dams are the mainstay. It helps that we have a few permanent surface waterholes, but that still leaves a lot of distance between water for the cattle. That’s where the dams and bores come in.’

  ‘I can’t quite get my head around that amount of land. So how do you muster the cattle?’

  She laughed. ‘Watch a lot of cattle shows, do you?’

  ‘Not a lot, but I did see the Paul Hogan crocodile movies when I was a kid. Do you use horses and dogs like on the TV?’

  ‘Not us. That’s a different part of Australia. Though we have a yard dog. In the centre of Australia, the lack of surface water pretty well takes working dogs out, though there are a few. Too much distance between water for them – they get too hot, exhausted and die if they get too single-minded chasing cattle. There are plenty of wild dogs, but I’m not sure how they survive. We mostly use quads or bikes, and aerial mustering, which we rent. And now with Jock’s bores we do bore management and the stock automatically move closer.’

  ‘And other water sources?’

  ‘We use a solar pump to feed tanks on the hills and run pipes down to troughs for the different paddocks. Part of the workload is to check the fences and gates, and especially troughs to make sure they’re full and the solar pumps are working. We check every three days or so, or maybe less often when it rains and there’s surface water.’

  ‘So that will be all part of your registered tourist business.’

  ‘Yes. Jock’s drawn up a list of all the duties and it’s an ongoing discussion. That’s my mother’s baby. She’s an excellent cook and manager, and she’s devised a program of “experiences” that we’re trialling from this muster.’

  ‘Like me?’

  ‘Mum suggested including you, yes,’ she told him, ‘as long as you’re healthy enough. We’ll have safety briefings. Granny Mim’s pretty good at keeping people under control.’

  ‘I’m terrified of her already.’ His voice dropped to a dramatic whisper.

  ‘Be very afraid.’ Her voice dropped too.

  ‘So tell me about a muster. What does a muster mean for you?’

  ‘For me?’ She thought about that. ‘Holidays from work. And hard work. Muster involves more than rounding up cattle that have spread far and wide. It can take days or weeks, but usually around six days for us. That’s working from dawn till dark. You don’t want the cattle upset, so it’s slow and steady, walk them in and sort them into those to go onto the trucks and those that will return to the paddocks.’

  ‘Do you hire the trucks, too?’

  ‘Yep. The vet comes in to check them and give any treatments, we do branding and then loading, and cattle-drive the rest out again.’

  He was watching her and she smiled at him as she slowed for another cattle grid. He looked genuinely interested and that was a plus. She drove slowly over the noisy grid.

  ‘It’s easy when you know how,’ she told him, before she sped up again. ‘Do you ride a quad bike?’

  She caught his smile before she turned back to the road. ‘I did have a motorbike in my misspent youth,’ he said. ‘Though not for long once I started medicine and the attraction of skidding along asphalt using my skin as a brake was lost for me. There were too many skin-graft examples in the emergency department.’

  Ava nodded. She’d seen that. ‘I know what you mean. Though that’s riding in the city for you. Here we get speed accidents and just pick up the pieces and bury them.’ A small silence followed that heavy statement. ‘Sorry. That was morbid.’

  ‘A bit.’ She could see he got that, because he had also seen too much. ‘The nature of our professions,’ he said. ‘There are many temporary Australians out there living on the edge of good sense.’

  They both stared thoughtfully into the distance. Then she went on. ‘You asked about horses. We don’t keep horses, though some stations do. There aren’t so many of the Indigenous stockmen who ride horses now. The ones I know like the motorbikes and quads. Granny Mim would like to ride, but she had a nasty fall from her ancient horse, Red, and it took us a little time to find her. She takes the truck now because my mother insists on it.’

  ‘It’s all fascinating. A whole different world to my life in the city. You said you don’t have your own helicopter?’

  ‘Not since my pop’s gyro. We hire the helicopters for the aerial part of the muster. Since my grandfather’s death, Mim has been strongly against Jock getting his helicopter licence. I’m not game to stick up for him.’

  ‘Not game? I wouldn’t have thought you were afraid of anything.’

  ‘I’m afraid of doing the wrong thing by omission. It’s a cop-out, I know, but I’m not sure what else I can do. He’s his own man. And his wife’s,’ she added. ‘Hana is amazing. You’ll like her.’

  ‘You’re a good sister.’ He smiled at her and her insides turned to mush.

  So she made fun of it. ‘And a good daughter. And a good granddaughter.’

  He looked at her as if trying to read in her face what had been between them. ‘And a good nurse and midwife. But what about when you were with me?’ he asked. ‘Were we good together?’

  She slowed the car again and she turned to face him, so their eyes met. ‘Yes, Zac, we were very good together. You made me feel like someone I didn’t know I was.’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Zac

  Someone she didn’t know she was? Was that a good thing? How far into this relationship had they been? Zac felt the ramifications of Ava’s statement lodge in his brain. Had they reached the point of sleeping together, then? So soon after Roslyn? The thought stunned him.

  They drove along the dusty red track in silence for a few minutes. Past another square red hole in the earth with a solar pump, the dam quarter-filled with red water, but all around the land stretched dry, covered by saltbush and scarce tufts of olive-green bush.

  On a small rise, Zac saw the long verandahs of the homestead resting among the scrubby trees and a cluster of smaller buildings that were scattered like petite mushrooms around the mother.

  ‘Here we are, then, Setabilly Station,’ he said.

  ‘Yes.’

  And she drove this most weeks to come home? In Sydney, he used to complain about the half-hour travel to work, through traffic.

  The craggy mountain range behind the house was distant yet close enough to see the fissures and valleys in the purple-coloured haze. The house seemed set into the small hill, not just simply standing on it. Probably because it was made of what looked like mortar-joined, hand-picked red stone. As they drew closer, he could see that the brown trunks of timber verandah posts held up a never-ending story of corrugated-iron roof like the one in The House That Jack Built – it had new rooms and extensions added haphazardly until it sprawled like a gnarled hand with a few stubby fingers poking out. The patch of sparse greener grass under the surrounding trees and a roundel of roses sat it in an oasis among the saltbush like a rustic prize.

  As they drove closer, red-earth tracks disappeared left and right towards other scattered buildings and stands of low trees. Another line of trees veered off at a tangent and Zac realised the homestead looked down on a watercourse. He wondered if it was the Finke River, but he didn’t ask. He’d detected a shift in Ava’s mood, a crease between her eyes, a quieter, almost absent tone, and he wondered what sobering subject held her thoughts.

  He’d pestered her with questions for most of the way because she intrigued him, and every answer opened another line of thought for him. His mind kept bouncing back to that game of ‘imagine’ about Weipa, which had been a hoot. He hadn’t been so engaged with conversation on a drive for years, and he still wasn’t sure what made them get on so well.

  Perhaps it was her matter-of-fact answers, or the dry humour, or the understated tenacit
y of her family in times of hardship. Or, on a less noble level, the visceral sexual awareness between them that shimmered so much he felt like he was smoking hot and ready to ignite. Her strength, determination and sheer will were certainly unique in his world.

  That wasn’t a reason to push him into a relationship with a woman so far disconnected from his world, but it wasn’t something he could ignore either.

  They passed another of the natty FARM STAY signs he’d seen at the main gate, the shiny, metal, scaled-down, three-dimensional homestead board mounted on a post, about a metre across and complete with miniature working windmills and an arrow pointing the way to the house. The metal house models made his mouth twitch because they were clever, and he remembered them from the website he’d visited. He wondered where they’d purchased them, or whether they’d made them. Knowing what he did about Ava’s family, the latter wouldn’t surprise him.

  A thin, mature, black dog ran up to the car, barking, tail wagging, the intelligent doggy face alive with curiosity to see who was in the car with Ava. Zac loved dogs, and one day he planned on adopting one. He might need an object of affection for when he looked back at these times with the increasingly fascinating Ava May, the desert midwife. He stared at the excited canine and he laughed out loud in response. He might need a dog quite badly, in fact.

  They pulled up at the main entrance, though it seemed every room in the house facing them had its own door outside to the verandah. He recognised the main door by the welcome mat and the row of boots standing to attention outside.

  The door stood open and he saw Ava’s grandmother – Mirium, she’d told him at the hospital – though Ava referred to her as Mim. The small, well-tanned, white-haired woman called, ‘Reggie.’ The dog obeyed immediately and came to sit, very still, beside her at the door. She bent and rubbed his ears and the black tail slapped the floor of the verandah in ecstasy.

  Then Ava’s mother, slightly taller, equally well-tanned, with Ava’s blue eyes and snub nose, stepped past her and smiled in Ava’s direction as she climbed out of the car.

  He couldn’t help comparing the welcoming delight on the faces of the two women to the gracious acknowledgement his wife had showed when he’d arrived home each day. Poor little rich boy, he mocked himself, and opened his door.

  Ava’s mother smiled at him, nodded and gestured them towards the door. ‘Come in, come in. Come and have a cold drink. And late lunch. You must be starving.’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Ava

  Ava turned her head to survey the familiar surroundings and felt the peace wrap around her like her grandmother’s arms. If anywhere could heal Zac, then her home could. She believed that with all her heart and quashed the doubts that tried to surface again about his memory.

  When she entered the homestead, she could hear the clatter of a pot going onto the stove and guessed her mum was heating soup already. She turned back and saw Zac coming in after Granny Mim, his bag in his hand, a little diffidently, as if unsure if this really had been a good idea. She drew a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face.

  ‘This way, Zac, I’ll show you to your room. You might like to freshen up – you have your own bathroom – and then meet us back in the kitchen.’ She gestured to where the noise was coming from. ‘Mum’s onto lunch already.’

  His face cleared. ‘Thanks.’

  Granny Mim followed them and Zac moved closer behind Ava as if afraid of getting lost.

  The main hallway walls showed the red-stone mortar work of the original homestead, and the different seams of colour through the rock made her want to run her hands along the familiar cool stone for comfort. Immediately to her right, a door led to the long room with the day bed and a blood-pressure machine. She saw Zac glance in. On the other side, a doorway led into the lounge area.

  Zac said, ‘It’s cool in the centre of the house with the stone walls.’

  ‘Yes. It helps a lot in the summer. We don’t turn the aircon on usually, but we had it installed when we built all the cottages because it seemed silly not to have it here too when they had it.’

  She gestured with her arm. ‘This is yours. All the rooms have a door to the verandah. Nobody is next door to your room, then it’s me, then Granny Mim, then Mum. So you can find us if you need us.’

  He tilted his head. ‘Would I need you?’ The why was unspoken but still there.

  Why indeed. ‘You might feel unwell,’ Ava reasoned, then paused and met his eyes. ‘Or remember something.’

  She saw understanding that she was hoping he would very soon. ‘None of us mind being woken up.’ The last word almost wobbled so she turned away. ‘Anyway, see you in the kitchen when you’re ready. Mum doesn’t like to wait.’ She stopped again and waited for her grandmother to follow her. ‘Come on, Mim.’

  ‘Good to see you here.’

  There was a wealth of something in her grandmother’s voice – Ava hesitated to label it ‘satisfaction’, but that was what it had sounded like. Incurably romantic Mim. Ava just hoped her grandmother was right. Zac would be experiencing the many strong personalities in this house, but that was okay. Ava had warned him.

  ‘We won’t have any of that nonsense of you staying in a cabin until you’re stronger,’ Mim said. ‘We’ll feed you up and give you a few days under three pairs of nurses’ eyes.’ She looked him up and down as if he were a large schoolboy. ‘We may let you escape after that.’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs May.’

  ‘And call me Mim, like everyone else does, Zac.’ Ava saw Zac only just manage to contain his smile.

  ‘When you’ve washed up –’ Ava bobbed her head towards the end of the hallway – ‘through that white wooden archway is the kitchen. We’ll be waiting for you.’

  She sent him a smile and they left him, standing in his allocated room.

  ‘Oh my, oh my.’ Ava could hear Mim rubbing her hands and muttering as she followed her to the kitchen. She hoped he couldn’t hear Granny Mim extolling his virtues as a big, strong man, but he probably could. Oh well. He would get used to Mim’s forthrightness, she was sure.

  Ava put her empty water bottle next to the sink and then turned and leaned back against the bench, looking warily at her grandmother. No wonder she didn’t tell her family everything that happened to her. ‘Did you want something, Mim?’

  ‘Just wondering how the trip went.’ Mim winked and Ava couldn’t be cross because she knew Mim missed having her around to tease. ‘A few hours in the car with that man would be no hardship.’

  ‘Grandmother. Behave.’ Ava raised her brows. ‘Or should I tell him you fancy him?’

  ‘If he were fifty years older, maybe. But –’ she shrugged magnanimously – ‘I’m happy if you fancy him.’

  She certainly did. ‘He has to remember me first.’

  Mim waved that away. ‘You could make him fall in love with you all over again, I’m sure.’

  Ava wished she was that positive.

  Mim cackled quietly. ‘Don’t suppose he has a grandfather or handsome older uncle he could recommend for me? Seeing as how you’re all finding fellas. Good genes, and good what’s in the jeans.’ Mim snorted.

  ‘Mother!’ Stella frowned in their direction as she stirred soup in a pot on the stove. Then she switched off the heat. ‘Stop chuckling like a madwoman. Have you seen Jock?’

  ‘Not since this morning.’

  ‘He knows I want him to check in or he’s to let us know he’s back safe. Or his wife could.’

  ‘He’ll be fine. You should go ring Hana to check. Or go for a walk and get rid of that glint in your eye. I’ve something I want to ask your daughter.’

  ‘Be civilised. We have a guest,’ Stella admonished and disappeared from view.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’ Ava crossed her arms.

  ‘I’m not blind.’ Mim huffed in exasperation. ‘He looks like a lovely man.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I’m not a complete goose. I think you two have done it.’

 
Ava blushed and Mim, noting it, rubbed her hands. ‘I thought so,’ she said, nodding vigorously. ‘How was he?’

  ‘Mum,’ Ava called out. ‘Can you help me, please!’

  Mim frowned and glanced warily at the empty doorway. ‘She’s gone. You didn’t have to do that. I’m just teasing.’

  ‘Mum has ears like a bat and you know it.’

  Mim screwed up her face. ‘Well, I’ve been hinting you should get a life apart from commitment to work, and he seems perfect for the job. He can’t take his eyes off you.’

  ‘He’s trying to remember who I am.’ Ava rolled her eyes and pushed off the sink. ‘And anyway, we’ve been here all of two minutes – you can’t tell that. You said I should take up travelling, buy clothes, remember? Are you changing your mind?’

  ‘Yes. I’d much prefer you found a man.’ Mim peered through the screen door to check Stella wasn’t in earshot. ‘You are your own woman, but you need to take a break from being careful all the time.’

  ‘Really? Do you think so?’ Ava rubbed her palms together softly as if they were cold. She’d lost her daughter and now she’d almost lost Zac – she might still lose Zac.

  Ava saw Mim’s face crumple as she looked at the calendar. ‘Oh, sweetness, I missed Amelia’s birthday.’ She crossed the room and hugged her granddaughter and Ava hugged her back. Dear Mim. Ava’s throat scratched as she hugged harder.

  Ava whispered, ‘She’d have been five. Starting school.’ Then she lifted a resolute face, despite the pain behind the eyes. ‘Does it get any easier? Pop’s been gone ten years now.’

  Mim nodded, understanding in her faded blue eyes. ‘Not easier, but kinder. Though I have memories of Max while you have unfulfilled dreams for your Amelia. But,’ she stepped back and searched her granddaughter’s face, ‘you know neither of us would have missed the pain to keep the joy.’

  ‘True.’ Ava hugged her fiercely. And she felt that way about Zac, too. The thought gave her strength. ‘Love you, Mim.’ She stepped away and picked up the framed photograph of Amelia they kept on the kitchen dresser. The one beside Max. ‘I went to the waterhole. It was beautiful as always.’ She put down the photo. ‘But I’m a little tired after the drive, so don’t tease me about Zac.’