Midwife in Need

by Fiona McArthur

  ‘I’m ready.’ Abbey pulled the door shut behind her and she glanced at his vehicle parked at the kerb. ‘Doris is in the garage. Do you want to drive or shall I?’ she asked.

  The way she looked today, if she drove he’d probably drool all over the seats. ‘I’d like to try Doris, if you don’t mind.’

  Abbey shrugged and he followed her around the side of the big weatherboard house. Everything swayed deliciously when she walked and he wondered if this day out had been a good idea after all. He felt like a diabetic in a chocolate factory—look but don’t touch.

  They chugged along the Pacific Highway and surprisingly the silence between them was relaxed, as if they both knew they didn’t have to talk. The sun shone brightly over the green paddocks and they drove with the vents open to let in the cool air. Airconditioning would be a dirty word to Doris, he thought ruefully. When they came to a turn-off she directed him towards South West Rocks and he was glad to get away from the line of traffic Doris had built up behind her. He’d already pulled over twice to let cars past.

  ‘There’s an old prison, Trial Bay Gaol—it’s a good place to start,’ Abbey said. ‘It was opened in the late eighteen hundreds and is pretty spectacular, towering over the sea.’

  Rohan looked at the rich farming land that edged the river. ‘Why would they need a gaol here?’

  ‘It’s not used now. The gaol housed convicts to build a breakwater at the entrance of the bay and create a safe harbour for sailing ships on the eastern seaboard. Later on it was used as an internment centre for German prisoners during the First World War.’

  ‘You sound like a tour guide,’ he teased.

  ‘And you sound like a tourist,’ she teased him back, and they smiled at each other.

  ‘That’s what I am’ slipped off his tongue, and it was a sobering thought for both of them.

  They pulled up in front of the pink and grey granite-block walls of the derelict prison. The fresh sea breeze whipped red strands of hair across Abbey’s face so that she pulled a band from her wrist to tie it back. Perhaps it was for the best, he thought, because he so loved her hair free. Then his attention was caught by the pure line of her neck, and his gut softened with unexpected tenderness and he wished she’d take the band out so he could breathe again.

  They paid at the gaol office and climbed the old wooden stairs to the museum that eventually led to the grounds on the other side of the tall stone gateway. When they’d examined the museum pieces and old photographs, they wandered through the ruins. Grass grew over the outlines of long-gone buildings. She laughed at his jokes and earnestly explained the quite relaxed conditions the convicts had lived under.

  Rohan found his attention straying to watch the expressions chase across her face. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks glowed and he couldn’t believe he’d thought she’d been only pretty when, in fact, any fool could see she was unbelievably beautiful.

  They climbed the north-western watchtower and gazed out over the azure sea to the Yarrahappini mountains. Below, on the breakwater, people searched the sea for a sight of the migrant whales that frequented the waters at this time of year.

  Abbey ran her hands across the coolness of the knobbly granite and her senses were so heightened she felt she could have drawn the valleys and hills in the rough stone beneath her fingers. The peace and beauty of the scene filled her heart and she sighed with pleasure. Then she turned and rested her back against the parapet, shut her eyes and spread her arms to feel the breeze and the sun in her face.

  ‘Every time I come here I wonder why I don’t come more often,’ she murmured. She opened her eyes and smiled at Rohan, and he looked so vibrantly handsome that he dazzled her. She shut him out and quickly turned to stare back over the sea.

  Rohan slid his arm around her shoulder and pointed. ‘Look over there.’

  Abbey tried to ignore the warmth seeping into her shoulders from his arm and shielded her eyes to squint in the direction in which he was pointing. ‘Can you see a whale?’ she said.

  Rohan didn’t answer but gesticulated wildly with his other hand. People below them looked up at them on the tower and then out to sea as if to find what he’d noticed.

  ‘No.’ He grinned mischievously. ‘But the people down there think I have.’

  She’d known he wasn’t to be trusted. Abbey slapped his arm away from her shoulder and tried not to laugh. ‘You’re terrible.’

  Rohan grinned at Abbey’s embarrassment and pointed enthusiastically at another section of the bay. More people rushed to the breakwater and stared out into the waves.

  ‘Stop it.’ She put her head in her hands, laughing, and shook her head. She could feel her cheeks burning. ‘I’m going down to ground level. You’re embarrassing.’

  ‘And you look good enough to eat.’

  His voice was still playful and Abbey brushed the compliment away. He didn’t mean it but she could feel his gaze on her as they climbed carefully down the steep stairway to the ground.

  They explored the old cells and kitchen ruins and Rohan wished he’d brought a camera to capture Abbey as she stood in the granite archways. Then he thought of staring at her photo in some new town at a later date and reviewed that thought. Perhaps it was better he didn’t own a camera.

  They went from the gaol to the beach and walked barefoot halfway around the white sand of Trial Bay before they turned back. Rohan regaled her with amusing anecdotes from his student days—nothing personal, because he needed the distance to stop himself from pulling her into his arms to see if she tasted as delicious as she looked.

  By the time they returned to the car she was wind-swept and the tip of her nose was pink from the sun even though he’d lent her his hat soon after they’d hit the beach.

  She fanned herself with the brim and then handed it back. ‘Thanks for that,’ she said as she leaned back against Doris. ‘Phew. I’m dying for a cold drink.’

  She rubbed her hair with both hands to unflatten it and her breasts jiggled erotically. Rohan dragged his eyes away with a mammoth effort.

  ‘We need food and fluids, urgently,’ Rohan agreed. And a cold shower, he thought ruefully as he opened the car door for her. ‘I saw a kiosk sign on the hill as we came in. Is that any good?’

  ‘Only if you want fabulous food looking out over the bay.’ She grinned up at him and her mouth curved invitingly.

  He was very close to dropping a kiss on her lips but that wasn’t part of the bargain. He shut her door with controlled force instead and lectured himself all the way around the big car.

  He was quiet as they drove the short distance to the restaurant and Abbey looked across at him thoughtfully. His short hair was untidily curled from the wind and made him look more like a pirate than a gunslinger, but his tanned face was serious. Something was on his mind. Maybe he was bored now?

  She couldn’t think of anything she might have said to alter his mood and it had been fun this morning. More than fun. For her it had been a sparkling adventure, and with Rohan by her side everything had seemed brighter and even more beautiful and exciting.

  ‘We can just get a drink if you want to head home earlier,’ she suggested, and tried to keep any trace of disappointment from her voice.

  He glanced quickly across at her as they pulled up in the restaurant car park. His black brows almost met in the middle and he didn’t go to the bother of hiding his disappointment. ‘Sick of my company already?’

  So he didn’t want to go home. Reassured, she denied it. ‘Actually, I’m starving! I was being polite. If you’re not tired, let’s eat.’

  He sighed in exaggerated relief. ‘Please, don’t be polite again, it’s been too long since I’ve had such an appetite. I’m ready to eat the placemats off the table.’

  They sat at a table right on the edge of the verandah, under the shade of brown sails, and the sea breeze kept the heat from being oppressive. A sign on the rail said DON’T FEED THE KOOKABURRAS, and Rohan laughed.

  They gave their orders and he
sat back in his chair. ‘Do you come here a lot?’ Rohan asked. Abbey gazed over the treetops to the small blue waves in the bay and he watched her face soften at the memories.

  ‘Not for years. My sisters and I used to come here with our parents before they died. It’s a great family beach. No rips, shallow water and gentle waves because it’s protected.’

  ‘Tell me about your family.’ She was such a complex woman if he didn’t ask he had the feeling he would learn very little.

  Abbey took a sip of her juice and the ice clinked in the glass. Rohan tried not to stare at the moisture left on her bottom lip.

  ‘I have two sisters,’ she said. ‘Bella is gentle and beautiful, like her name, and is a midwife in a birth centre in Sydney. Kirsten is loud and boisterous and the adventurous one of the three of us. She still has another year in Saudi Arabia before she comes home. I miss them both, dreadfully.’

  Rohan tilted his head and suppressed a smile. ‘Is Kirsten a midwife, too?’

  Abbey smiled and nodded. ‘We all are—like Mum was. Mum had a home birth practice and as kids we often went with her. It’s in the genes.’

  Rohan dipped his head towards her and said in a serious voice, ‘Don’t tell me your dad was a midwife, too?’

  Abbey burst out laughing and Rohan sat back, pleased that he could lighten her mood. ‘Dad was a fire chief and before our parents died we did a lot together as a family. Camping, boating, fishing. I can pitch a tent with the best of them. We girls didn’t seem to have the sibling rivalry that most families have. Maybe because I was two years older than Bella and four years older than Kirsten, I always felt protective of them. It wouldn’t have been fair to fight with them.’

  It all sounded so wonderfully different to his childhood. ‘I couldn’t tie a knot to save myself. I’ve never camped in my life,’ Rohan quipped, and tried not to think of the lonely nights while his mother had worked. Even when she’d been home there’d always seemed to be a lame duck that had needed feeding or clothing or counselling—and not all of them wonderful examples of citizenship—so that his mother had seemed more at work than at home. Until the last one, who had killed her with incompetence.

  He shook off the memories and concentrated on a woman who was vibrantly alive. ‘Would it upset you to tell me how you lost your parents?’ He wanted to know. He didn’t know why but he needed to know everything about her and he had the feeling she spent more time listening to others than others listened to her.

  She raised her chin as if to be strong in the telling. ‘Dad died in a bush fire. The people he went in to save made safety but he was caught in a firestorm. Mum died less than a year later in a car accident, coming home late at night after a birth. Suddenly I was responsible for the family.’

  A few sentences and he saw how she had shouldered burdens too great for her years. Her story wasn’t that different to his—except that his mother had sacrificed her life for her son and not strangers—but unlike Abbey he’d had all responsibilities removed by the state until he’d been old enough to decide his own future. Maybe that was why she was more giving than he was.

  He shrugged off his own demons and tried to imagine Abbey as a young woman, suddenly the only breadwinner in her family. ‘You didn’t take over your mother’s home birth clients?’

  Abbey shook her head. ‘I was twenty and had only just finished my midwifery. I thought of it, but there just wasn’t enough money to support the three of us. Then Aunt Sophie lost her home and moved in as well. So I took permanent work at the hospital and have been there ever since.’

  He couldn’t help but think, What about Abbey? Now was the time she should be enjoying herself. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life waiting to see if someone else needed her. ‘Do you ever want to leave? Now that your sisters have gone? See the world?’

  She looked at him as if trying to gauge why he’d asked that question. ‘I see the world from where I am. My life is here. I have friends, Aunt Sophie and my sisters have a home whenever they need one.’ It was her turn to ask questions.

  ‘What about you, Rohan? Are you ever going to settle down in one place or do you like being footloose and fancy-free? What are your goals?’

  ‘My goals?’ He shrugged. ‘To be self-sufficient and never have to worry about where the next meal is coming from. I wanted to become a doctor, fell into obstetrics because no one seems to want to go that way any more, and I get to see a new piece of Australia every couple of months. I’ll never go hungry and could retire tomorrow if I wanted to and still live comfortably.’

  It sounded pretty cold and featureless to Abbey. ‘What about home and family? Where are your parents?’

  His mouth thinned and she mourned the appearance of the protective shell she could see springing up around him. It made him look older and harder than the fun companion of the morning.

  There was a bitter overtone to his voice. ‘My mother worked herself into an early grave looking after me and every stray loser she could find until she died, and my father could be dead for all I ever knew about him or the help he gave us. They couldn’t even find him after my mother died.’ His mouth hardened even more.

  ‘Marriage and commitment wasn’t there when she needed it. So much for the love she said they’d shared. I used to get wild with my mother when her lost causes took her away from me so I guess I was lucky I didn’t have brothers or sisters. I’m too selfish.’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘I’m just not cut out for the commitment of home and family like you.’

  ‘Maybe you haven’t found the right sort of woman?’ Her voice was soft.

  His was firm. ‘Maybe I’m not the right sort of man!’ It wasn’t a question.

  The food arrived at that moment and both statements went unchallenged.

  It was Rohan who broke the silence. ‘I’m sorry, Abbey. I have my own demons and shouldn’t bring them out on a day like this. In penance I’ll pay for lunch.’ He smiled and he looked so contrite that Abbey had to smile back. But her heart ached for his insecurities.

  ‘Fine. I’ll pay for Doris’s fuel. She’s nearly as thirsty as we are hungry.’ Then she laughed at his frown. ‘Don’t even think about fighting me on this. You won’t win!’

  They took the back roads that meandered along the river. Several stops to feed ducks and examine old wares for sale at the side of the road saw their morning rapport fully restored. Perhaps the reasons they were so different were better said, thought Abbey.

  It was late afternoon when Rohan turned off the engine of the car back at Abbey’s house in Chisholm Road. ‘Stay there. I’ll open your door for you,’ he said, and she sat back as he walked around the car.

  It was dark and cool in the garage after the brightness outside and Abbey sat quietly soaking in the memories of the day. When he opened the door he took her hand to help her down off the running board and she felt like Aunt Sophie must have felt fifty years before, getting out of Doris on the arm of her beau.

  ‘Thank you for a lovely day, sweet Abbey,’ he said, and as her feet hit the ground he spun her gently so that she ended up in his arms. His kiss was firm and sweet and left an imprint that lingered as if his mouth were still there. Startled, she looked up at him and he tightened his grip to give her a hug. ‘I think you’re a wonderful tour guide.’

  Abbey tried to keep it light. ‘And you are a tourist. Don’t play those games with me, Rohan, I’ll only disappoint you.’ She stepped out of his embrace but he caught her hand.

  ‘I don’t regret the kiss, Abbey, only its brevity.’ He pressed the car keys into her palm and shut her fingers over them before letting go of her hand. ‘And I doubt you’d ever disappoint me.’

  If she could disappoint a creep like Clayton then someone as obviously experienced as Rohan would surely find her sexual prowess lacking. She laughed harshly and saw his gaze sharpen at the discordant sound. ‘Remind me to tell you that story one day,’ she said, and slipped out of the garage.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SUNDAY was quiet until K
ayla went into labour. Abbey had tried to prepare her young friend for the tedious length of early labour and reiterated the usual extended time that the contractions would slowly build up over. Of course, it didn’t happen like that.

  Two nuisance pains at breakfast heralded the start of what was to become one of the shortest labours in history. When Vivie called upstairs to get Abbey from her bed, Kayla’s waters had just broken, and without time to throw her dressing-gown on, the girl’s moans were floating along the hallway to hurry Abbey’s feet.

  When she burst into the kitchen, Kayla was gripping the kitchen table with white fingers, and even Aunt Sophie had left her room to find out what all the commotion was about.

  ‘Oh-h-h, oh-h-h, it’s coming,’ Kayla moaned, and Abbey blinked.

  She turned to Vivie. ‘Looks like we’re having a baby. Ring Dr Roberts because Kayla’s baby may still be a couple of weeks early—he’s at Dr Rainford’s house number. I’ll see if I can get Kayla a little more comfortable.’

  Abbey rested her arm across the girl’s shoulders and calmed her. ‘It’s OK, Kayla. Your baby is in a hurry so we’ll just manage as we are.’

  Aunt Sophie hobbled across with her morning arthritis to the sink and sat a pot of water on the stove. ‘Haven’t had a birth in this house since you and your sisters were born. Didn’t think I’d live to see another one.’

  She pulled a plastic tablecloth and some hand towels out of the drawer and handed them to Abbey before making her way towards the lounge for a pillow.

  Abbey spread towels over the tablecloth on the floor and urged Kayla into a squat with her hands still holding the table. ‘You’re doing beautifully, Kayla. Just listen to your body and do what it tells you to do.’

  ‘It’s telling me to push and I can’t be ready yet. Can I?’ She turned anguished eyes towards Abbey who smiled serenely back.

  Instinct told Abbey that Kayla had passed the first stage of labour. ‘If you’re ready, well…you’re ready.’ Abbey crouched down beside her. ‘You’ll be fine and baby will be fine. Don’t be scared. Just let it happen.’