The Outback Nurse

‘Well, just make sure you do,’ he said after what seemed an age. Turning his large back on her, he deftly replaced the equipment.

With her face burning, Olivia made her way to the passenger seat. She knew she had been right to stand up to him. He had to treat her, if not as an equal, at least with some respect.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, he started the ignition. ‘We’ll go the back way. It’s a short cut but don’t use it till you’re comfortable with the Jeep.’ And without looking over once, he gave her a run-down on their first patient. ‘The first port of call is the Jean Hunt, for her postnatal check. She’s just had her fourth baby. A son after three daughters...young Sam. He’s six weeks old now.’ Clem skilfully guided the car around the tight bends.

‘Oh, yes,’ Olivia recalled. ‘Dougie mentioned them. They must be thrilled.’

‘Not exactly,’ Clem replied grimly. ‘Everyone’s thrilled except Mum.’

‘Oh, dear.’

Clem finally glanced over at her, realising she understood the situation.

‘Exactly.’

Olivia remembered only too well the tearful mums on the maternity ward, trying desperately to appear happy to relatives and wondering why on earth they’d been feeling so miserable and unable to cope.

Clem continued, ‘After an extremely long and exhausting labour with a difficult posterior presentation, young Master Hunt entered the world quite healthy, screaming his head off, and he hasn’t stopped since. A complete contrast to the girls, who were the most placid little sheilas you could imagine. Alicia, the youngest, actually had to be woken for her feeds for the first couple of months. Not only does Jean have a husband and three other children to cope with, she’s also dealing with a never-ending stream of well-wishers bringing little blue gifts and telling her how delighted she must be feeling.’

‘Poor thing,’ Olivia sympathised. ‘How’s his weight?’

‘Borderline. He’s gaining, but not as much as I’d like.’

Olivia thought for a moment.

‘Could he have reflux?’ she suggested.

Clem shrugged. ‘I really don’t think so, though I have considered it. I’ve seen a lot of reflux babies but Sam just doesn’t quite fit the picture. I think it’s more Jean.’

‘Is she breastfeeding?’

‘Trying to, but I’m going to suggest she puts him on the bottle today.’

Olivia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How behind was this place? Everyone knew you encouraged breastfeeding.

He looked over again. ‘What’s wrong, you don’t approve?’ Clem parked the car and turned around to face her.

She looked at him properly for the first time, and realised just how attractive he really was. ‘It’s not a question of whether I approve or not. I was taught to promote breastfeeding, that’s all. To give in after such a short time seems strange to me.’

‘Look, I do see your point. Breast is best and all that, but only if it’s working. When it isn’t, the bottle is fantastic.’

Olivia opened her mouth to argue but he cut her short.

‘There’s no breastfeeding mothers’ support group here, no lactation consultant to call in, just the help you and I can offer. You may have only done a morning here, but you can surely see how stretched we are.’ He held up his hand to silence her as she again attempted to put her point. ‘Let me finish, then you can have your say.’

Olivia snapped her mouth closed and folded her arms.

‘I’ve been round nearly every day since Sam was born, but there’s not much more I can do. He’s healthy, he’s just hungry. For whatever reason, breastfeeding just isn’t working this time. Anyway, Jean’s far more experienced than you or I—after all, she’s successfully fed three children. It’s a bit like taking snow to the Eskimos, offering her advice on her feeding technique.’

Olivia grudgingly nodded.

‘And as chauvinistic as it may sound to a liberated young woman like yourself, Mr Hunt will be back from a hard day’s work at the farm this evening. He’ll want to come back to a tidy house and a meal. It doesn’t mean he loves her any less than the sensitive twenty-first century men you may mix with, it’s just the way it is here. And I can tell you now that Jean isn’t going to take a stand for sisterhood and to heck with routine.’

Olivia digested his speech. She actually understood far more than he realised. She herself had desperately wanted to start a family as soon as they’d got married. But as with their elusive wedding date, Jeremy had wanted to wait, for what she hadn’t been quite sure. The thought of Jeremy coming home to a messy house, a crying baby and a hysterical mother made her realise he wasn’t the modern, liberated man he liked to think he was. Taking her silence as dissent Clem went further.

‘I could prescribe anti-depressants or tell her to hang in there till things improve, but I’m not prepared to do that, at least not this early in the piece. That’s not the kind of medicine I practise.’

And despite the fact she had indeed only worked a morning with him, Olivia knew that already. It was obvious from the adoration of his patients that he was a wonderful caring doctor. Still, she wasn’t prepared to give in that easily. ‘I still think you should go in there with an open mind,’ she said defiantly, but, watching his face darken, wished she’d held her tongue. She probably wouldn’t last the week out, like her predecessors.

‘May I suggest something?’ Clem said slowly.

‘Of course.’ Olivia nodded weakly. Perhaps he was going to tell her to remember her place.

‘Maybe it should be you that goes in to the house with an open mind. In fact, why don’t you decide what Jean should do?’ he suggested.

‘And if I don’t come down on your side, you’ll simply override me,’ she retorted.

Clem shook his head. ‘You don’t know me very well. Of course, I could override you but I won’t. It’s your call.’ He picked up his doctor’s bag, effectively ending the conversation, and got out of the vehicle. Striding to the front door, Olivia had to half run to keep up with him. Knocking firmly, he turned. ‘Remember, an open mind.’

Jean Hunt opened the door still in her dressing-gown, her hair unbrushed, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

‘Oh, Clem, I’m so glad you’re here. He’s been screaming all morning.’ She ushered them through to the family room, apologising for the mess. The house was in chaos. Toys littered the floor and piles of washing lay over the chairs and sofa. The morning’s breakfast dishes were still on the breakfast bar. ‘Please, sit down,’ she said to Olivia, removing a pile of nappies.

Clem peered into the crib. ‘He’s asleep now.’

‘Yes, but it won’t last.’ Her eyes brimmed. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’

Clem turned to Olivia. Taking her cue, she jumped up.

‘I’ll sort out the tea. Why don’t you let Clem examine you while Sam is asleep?’

Clem nodded appreciatively.

‘He’ll be awake before you know it. Six weeks old and he’s hardly slept for more than two hours at a time. The girls were so easy—I just don’t know what it is I’m doing wrong. Brian’s so thrilled at having a boy, he just doesn’t understand...’ Jean’s voice broke and her shoulders shook with emotion.

Clem, towering over her, put his arms around her heaving shoulders and spoke softly. ‘Come on, Jean. Let’s go through to the bedroom and I’ll do your postnatal check, then we’ll sit down over a nice cuppa and try to sort something out.’ Gently he led her away.

After switching on the kettle, Olivia hastily did the breakfast dishes and wiped down the benches. The family room wasn’t dirty, just untidy. She put the toys back into their box and started to sort out the laundry, folding the nappies into a neat pile and placing the rest into the groaning ironing basket. The place looked a lot better, and by the time Clem retuned she had made the tea.

‘Jean’s just getting dressed.’ He raised his eyebrows ‘You’ve been busy.’

Jean was eternally grateful. ‘Sister, you didn’t have to do that.’

‘No problem, Jean. I’m glad to help.’

While they drank their tea, Jean, in a faltering voice, told them her problems. ‘If I could just get a decent sleep and the house in order I’d be all right, but Sam takes for ever to feed. Then, when I finally get him off, no sooner have I put him down than he’s awake and screaming again. I’m at my wits end.’ She ran her fingers through her unwashed hair.

‘Does Sam have any long sleeps at all?’ Clem asked.

‘Sometimes, at about five, which is useless for me. The girls are home from school then, wanting their tea, and then Brian gets in. As the girls go off to bed up gets the little fella, and that’s me for the rest of the night, trying to keep him quiet so that Brian can get a good sleep.’

‘Could Brian get up to him for a couple of nights, at the weekend perhaps so you could get a break?’ Olivia volunteered. ‘Perhaps if you expressed some milk?’

Jean shook her head. ‘He’s up at five a.m. to go to the farm. It’s the same at weekends—the cows still need milking. I can’t expect him to be awake at night with the kids.’

Olivia finally realised the woman’s predicament. Just then Sam stirred and let out a piercing cry, which made them all jump. It was amazing just how much noise a small baby could make. Clem picked up the infant as Jean started to weep.

‘What’s wrong with him, Clem?’

‘Put him to your breast, Jean, and let me see you feed him.’ Olivia spoke calmly, and Clem handed Sam to his mother. The irate baby arched his back and butted against Jean’s breast, searching frantically for and finding her nipple. He latched on and mercifully relaxed. Making little whimpering noises, he suckled hungrily.

‘Very good, Jean, you’re doing wonderfully,’ Clem encouraged. ‘Just try and relax.’ At that point Sam let out a furious wail and the angry protest started again.

Jean was just about at breaking point. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ she screamed above the ear-splitting shrieks of her son.

Olivia walked over and gently took the baby from the distraught woman. The baby snuffled against her. Olivia felt his hot, angry little face against hers, breathing in the familiar baby smell. Rocking Sam, gently trying to soothe him, she contemplated Jean’s situation. For all her knowledge and training she had no real experience. Here was a woman who had borne four babies to her nil. She had a husband and children to care for and a house she was proud of. The well-rehearsed platitudes of ‘persevere’ and ‘things will get better’ seemed woefully inadequate. Olivia could see what was wrong. Jean had plenty of milk but she wasn’t letting down, probably because she was too tense. Appearances mattered, and to tell this woman to ignore the housework and concentrate on the baby, to get a take-away and not worry about dinner, would be like speaking a foreign language. Heck, there wasn’t a burger bar for two hundred kilometres.

Clem watched Olivia closely as she rocked the baby. Sam rooted hopefully and, finding her finger, sucked hungrily, but again there came the same wail of frustration.

‘He’s hungry, Jean,’ Olivia said.

‘He can’t be. I fed him just an hour ago. You saw me just try—that’s not what he wants.’

Olivia gently but firmly explained about the letdown reflex. ‘It’s automatic in some women, as it was for you with the girls. But anxiety, tension, lack of sleep—any one of these can affect it. It’s a vicious circle. The more Sam cries, the harder it is for you to relax and for your milk to get through. Have you considered trying him with some formula?’

‘But breast milk’s best—everyone says so,’ Jean protested.

‘A contented mum and baby are what’s important. Anyway, giving him a bottle now doesn’t automatically mean you have to give up on breastfeeding. Perhaps after a couple of feeds and a good sleep you’ll be ready to do battle again. You could maybe give him a bottle at night and concentrate on breastfeeding in the day. There are lots of options. Even if he does end up on the bottle, you’ve given Sam your colostrum in the first few days, which is full of antibodies, and he’s had six weeks on the breast. You’ve done very well.’

‘What do you think?’ Jean turned to Clem.

‘I totally agree with Livvy.’ He stood up. ‘I’ve got some formula samples in the car. Why don’t you make him up a bottle and we’ll see how he goes?’

Half an hour later a much happier Jean cuddled her satisfied son. Young Master Sam made contented little noises.

‘Feeling better now?’ Clem enquired.

‘Much, but I’m a bit disappointed.’

‘Well, don’t be,’ Olivia said firmly. ‘Like I said, it might be a different ball game tomorrow. But whatever you do, don’t go getting stressed—just enjoy each other.’

‘Thanks ever so.’ She looked over at Olivia. ‘You’ve both been wonderful.’

‘We haven’t finished yet.’ Clem darted outside and returned with a huge casserole pot. ‘Ruby’s forever trying to fatten me up. There’s more than enough here to feed the family, Jean.’ He took Sam from her and put him gently into the crib. ‘Now, the place is tidier, the baby’s asleep and dinner’s taken care off. You get to bed.’

‘I should get some ironing done,’ Jean protested, but Olivia quickly jumped in.

‘Don’t you dare.’ She shooed her down the hall.

‘I wouldn’t argue with Sister Morrell if I were you, Jean. I’ve a feeling she’d win. Now, off to bed, Doctor’s orders. We’ll see ourselves out.’

Back in the car Clem praised her. ‘You did a great job in there.’

‘Only because I listened to you first,’ Olivia admitted. ‘I shudder to think of the mess I’d have made if you hadn’t forewarned me.’

‘I think you’re being a bit hard on yourself,’ he said kindly. ‘We’ll need to keep a close eye on Jean, make sure things are improving—she’s on a short fuse at the moment. Let me know if you’re worried about her.’ He turned and smiled. ‘It’s good having you on board, Livvy.’

As she opened her mouth to correct him he started the engine. Oh, what was the point? She might just as well get used to it.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. In each home they were made welcome. Despite Clem’s sometimes brutal honesty and arrogant assumptions, it was obvious the patients all adored him. Everywhere they went the patients insisted on making a cup of tea. As if he hadn’t had a drink all day, Clem gratefully accepted and listened as they chatted. Finally, armed with a bag of lemons and some lamingtons, they had finished the rounds.

‘For a day’s work well done, I’ll buy you dinner. It’s time for you to visit the local hotel.’

‘But we can’t. I’m in my work clothes,’ Olivia wailed. The thought of having to talk to him socially terrified her.

‘I’m not intending to get you drunk, I can assure you, but it’s nearly seven already and I’m sure you’re about as keen to cook dinner as I am.’

Driving into the main street, he parked and escorted her straight into a bistro. Gorgeous smells wafted from the kitchen and Olivia realised how hungry she really was. Again Clem was greeted like a long-lost friend.

‘G’day there. The usual, Clem? And what about the young lady?’

‘An orange juice, please.’

Clem remembered his manners and introduced her. ‘This is Olivia Morrell, the new sister at the practice.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Livvy,’ the landlord greeted her cheerfully. Casually holding her elbow, Clem led her over to a table by the window and went back to the bar to fetch their drinks. Olivia gazed out of the window at the miles of land stretched out before her. The road continued far into the horizon. It was magnificent. She wished she were here with Jeremy. It had been so long since they’d been away together or even out for a meal, just the two of them. There had always been work, or a function to attend. Perhaps if she’d insisted, or just gone ahead and booked a weekend away, maybe they could somehow have prevented the mess they were in.

‘Daydreaming?’

Olivia jumped as Clem placed their drinks on the table. ‘I was just admiring the view.’

‘Yes it’s pretty spectacular,’ he agreed. ‘As are the pies here. I took the liberty of ordering for you. They do the best steak pie I’ve ever tasted.’

‘Sounds marvellous.’

Conversation was surprisingly easy. He was very good company, with a wicked, cynical sense of humour. Olivia felt herself start to relax as he told her tales of the locals. The pie, as promised, was spectacular, the sauce rich and spicy. Mopping her plate with a second bread roll, she felt Clem staring at her.

‘What?’ she said, hastily putting down her roll.

‘Nothing. I’m just glad you’re enjoying the food,’ he remarked.

‘And why shouldn’t I be? It’s delicious.’

Clem surprised himself at how much pleasure he took in watching her unwind. For the first time since they’d met she was actually looking at him for more than ten seconds when he spoke. The constant fiddling with her earrings or hair had stopped. He decided to broach a question he had been wondering about. ‘You said last night your “ex-fiancé”. Was the break-up very recent?’ Those stunning green eyes frantically looked over to the bar as if in a silent plea for help, her hand immediately shooting up to her earrings.

‘Yes.’ Olivia replied reluctantly.

‘Were you engaged for long?’

‘We were together five years, engaged for two.’

Clem let out a low whistle. ‘Ouch,’ he said simply, and took a drink of his beer. For a second she thought the conversation was over but he wasn’t letting her off so easily.

‘He’s not exactly a fast mover. Why weren’t you married?’ he probed.

Olivia sighed, wishing he would just drop it. ‘We were happy the way we were, there wasn’t any need to rush,’ she stated, bringing out the old platitudes she had used on her friends and parents so many times in the past.

‘Rubbish,’ Clem said rudely. ‘I have a theory about couples in long engagements and so far I’ve always been right.’ He paused. ‘Do you want to hear it?’

‘Not particularly, but I’ve a feeling I’m going to.’

Clem grinned and continued. ‘One is desperate for the commitment, the other is holding out, but both pretend a long engagement is what they want. It’s the same with couples who live together—there’s always one holding back. Am I right?’

He was, of course, damn him, but she certainly wasn’t going to let him know as much.

‘Actually, no, you’re not. Jeremy’s been under a lot of pressure recently. We were waiting till he made consultant. There wasn’t time to concentrate on a wedding as well.’

‘Well, I’d have made time,’ Clem insisted. ‘I’d have snapped you up years ago.’

It was an innocent statement, made entirely in the context of the conversation, but for some reason Olivia felt herself start to blush. Clem didn’t seem to notice.

‘So what does he think about you being out here?’

‘He doesn’t know.’

‘You’re not some fugitive on the missing persons list, are you?’ The tone of his voice made her look up and she was relieved to see he was smiling.

‘He’s a bit too busy with his new girlfriend, I would think, to be looking for me.’

Clem took a long drink of his beer. ‘So one call from Jeremy and I could lose the only decent nurse this town has seen in months.’

‘I’m more responsible than that,’ Olivia retorted quickly. ‘I’m not just some puppy dog that can be summoned. I’ve accepted the job and I’m aware of my obligations.’

‘Whoa.’ He raised his hands.

‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘as I’ve only been here a day, aren’t you judging me rather hastily?’

‘On the contrary. I believe in first impressions, though I must admit I was wrong about your eating habits.’

Olivia gave him a questioning look but he didn’t elaborate.

‘Kathy always said I knew at a glance...’ He took a hasty sip of his drink and then in a soft voice he continued, ‘Kathy was my wife. She died,’ he said simply. Now it was his turn to avoid her gaze.

‘I heard. I’m so sorry. How long ago?’

‘It will be two years in a few months, but the way it feels it might just as well have been yesterday.’ He drained his glass. ‘Hold onto your heart, Livvy, because you only get hurt in the end. I sometimes wonder if the pleasure of being in love is worth the pain.’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘Listen to us two lonely hearts getting maudlin.’ The carefree shift in his tone did nothing to disguise the sadness hanging in the air. ‘Can I get you another drink?’

Olivia reached for her purse. ‘No, it’s my turn. I’m going to have a coffee.’ Like her, he obviously didn’t want to talk about his loss. The difference was, she was too polite to push it. ‘Can I get you one?’

Clem shook his head.

‘Another beer, then, or a cup of tea perhaps?’ she offered.

‘Olivia, sit down a moment. There’s something I must tell you,’ Clem said in a serious voice. She tentatively sat down. What on earth could it be?

‘You must promise not to tell any of the patients this. If it were to get out, so many people would be offended.’

Olivia nodded nervously. Whatever was he going to say? She’d only known him five minutes.

He leant over the table, taking her hand and drawing her nearer, looking around to make sure nobody could hear. Leaning forward, she listened intently.

‘I hate tea. Absolutely loathe the stuff, and every day I’m forced to drink gallons.’

‘What?’ Olivia looked up at him, startled. Was that it? Throwing his head back, he started to laugh, so loudly, in fact, that a few of their fellow diners turned around, smiling, to see what was so funny. Unperturbed, he carried on until finally she joined in. It had been so long since she’d truly laughed and, what’s more, she marvelled, it felt wonderful.

CHAPTER THREE

SITTING at her kitchen table, Olivia attempted to pen a reply to Jessica’s letter. A niggling sore throat which had been troubling her for a couple of days seemed to have come out in force. Pulling a face as she downed some soluble aspirin, Olivia reread Jessica’s letter. Although apparently still full on with Lydia, Jeremy was pestering Jessica to find out where Olivia had moved to. She took some solace when she read how awful he was looking—black rings under his eyes, unironed shirts, creased suits and snapping at everyone. Which was most unlike Jeremy, who saved his mood swings for the home front. At work he was calm, unruffled and totally pleasant to one and all.

Perhaps he was actually missing her, realising what a terrible mistake he’d made. What if he did get in touch? Could she take him back after all he’d put her through? Olivia knew the answer should be no, yet a part of her couldn’t let go. He had been her first real relationship, her first and only lover. The reason she had left her family and friends in England and travelled to the other side of the world. Letting go just wasn’t that easy.

She had been in Kirrijong a month now. The locals were starting to accept her. Alex had returned to have his sutures removed, bringing her a bunch of proteas and several bottles of home-made tomato sauce. Her fridge and pantry groaned with the weight of home-made wines and chutneys, nectarines and lemons. They waved as she passed in her black Jeep and had started to make appointments to see her without Clem. It felt good to be liked and wanted. Yet each night she crept into the huge wooden bed and, while hating herself for being so weak, longed to feel Jeremy’s arms around her, ached for the warmth of human touch.

It was Wednesday and she wasn’t due on duty till eleven. Normally Olivia arrived early anyway, there was always more than enough work to do, but she had allowed herself the luxury of a lie-in and the chance to catch up on some letters. She hadn’t been feeling herself at all lately. Initially Olivia had assumed it had been the pressure she was under, but now, with this niggling throat and persistent headaches, she began to suspect she was coming down with the same flu that seemed to be sweeping the rest of the town. Yelping as she noticed the clock edging past ten-thirty, Olivia dressed quickly. The morning had caught up with her.