Water and Fire (2 page)

I hit the gate release and we
waited for it to clank open before trudging from the restricted
airside gravel to the bitumen between the hire cars and the staff
car park. Together, we stood and watched the tiny plane taxi down
the runway. It took off, shrinking into the sky until it rose above
the cloud ceiling and out of sight. Silently, I wished the woman
luck, hoping that her daughter would survive long enough to leave
hospital and go home with her mother. My hopes for happiness flew
with her.

Happiness I will never know. My
daughter no longer lives.

I sagged, suddenly realising
how exhausted I was.

Yet the intern turned to me,
his eyes full of unmistakeable awe. "If that was your first solo
delivery, you're in the wrong profession. You should have studied
medicine instead of nursing. I couldn't have done it."

I was too tired to explain to
him that Miranda's child was by no means the first baby I'd
delivered, nor the most difficult. Instead, I looked for my car in
the parking lot.

"How did you get here?" Aidan
persisted.

I wondered the same thing, as
the only car I could see was not mine. "In the ambulance, with my
patient," I replied slowly. The ambulance had left without me. I
hoped that didn't mean there would be another emergency waiting at
the hospital. If and when I managed to make my way back there. It
would be a long walk – more than three hours. There wasn't a taxi
in sight and my bag, my phone and my wallet were back in my locker
at the hospital. I heaved a deep sigh and summoned the strength to
start the long journey back.

Aidan pressed a button on his
key. The lone car in the parking lot flashed its orange lights.
"Let me give you a lift back to the hospital."

I considered refusing. I also
considered how tired I was. By the time I reached the hospital on
foot, my shift would be well and truly over and the sun would have
set. I hadn't brought a torch and there weren't any streetlights
for most of the way. It'd be pitch dark and I'd be a good target
for the Nannup Tiger, if it existed.

"Okay." I tried to keep my face
expressionless. It wasn't difficult, as even the effort of forming
any expression was exhausting.

Aidan drove a Mini, a very
small car that appeared incongruous to his size. He opened the
passenger door and started pitching things from the passenger seat
into the back, before he gestured for me to sit down. He seemed
really nervous, apologising for the mess in his vehicle.

I sat in the passenger seat,
carefully placing my feet between a pair of very large sneakers and
some muddy gumboots. Noticing something uncomfortable beneath me, I
reached for it and pulled out a stethoscope, the head of the
chestpiece decorated with a sticker of a three-lobed leaf.

In three strides he rounded the
front of his car and folded himself into the space between the
driver's seat and the steering wheel. He reminded me of an octopus
squeezing itself into a small rock crevice, only more angular and
awkward.

When he'd managed to wedge
himself inside, I held up the stethoscope, lifting my eyebrows,
too.

"Oh hell, sorry. That's my
lucky stethoscope. Dad gave it to me before I left Ireland and I
forgot to take it off before I left the hospital." He took it from
me and stuffed it into the glove box.

He said little and I said less
for the start of the drive, until we were forced to stop by a flock
of sheep moving across the road from one paddock to another. The
farmer shifting them waved to us and walked over to the driver's
side window.

He and Aidan discussed sheep
and I let my mind wander, not listening, until I caught the words,
"…Nannup Tiger…"

I turned to listen to their
conversation.

Aidan laughed. "You don't
expect me to believe in the Nannup Tiger, do you? That's just
something you made up for tourists!"

The farmer shook his head. "The
Nannup Tiger's real, mate. It took two of my lambs last week and
Pete next door said he's lost three. Pete's missus saw a slinking
dark shape by one of the sheds near the house the night they lost
two lambs. You watch out for it. I'm shifting my lambing ewes
closer to the house, so the dog and I can keep a better eye on
them."

He waved again as he closed the
gate behind his sheep.

Aidan crunched his car back
into gear and accelerated away. "So, do you believe in the Nannup
Tiger?" he asked, without taking his eyes off the road.

I replied cautiously. "It's a
native species that's believed to be extinct because no one's seen
one for a long time, isn't it? With all the forests and big farms
around here, anything could be hiding. It wouldn't surprise me if
there are still some around, even if no one sees much of them.
Aren't there plenty of undiscovered species in the world, even in
Australia? What's one more?"

Aidan's laughter died. "Some
stories say it's a thylacine, some sort of big native cat, but
others say it's a black panther that escaped from a circus. No one
seems to know what it is." He looked nervously into the trees on
either side of the road.

I made myself smile. "Well, if
you're scared of it, don't go out at night, then," I said
lightly.

He shivered and continued
driving, this time in silence.

When we reached the hospital,
my shift was over. I thanked Aidan for the lift and headed inside
to collect my bag. I lifted the bag onto my shoulder, without
pausing, and turned on my heel to head out the way I'd come. I
heard the clink of keys inside and thanked Helen in my head, hoping
I'd remember to thank her properly when I saw her next.

Aidan was talking to one of the
receptionists at the front desk when I stepped into the entrance
lobby. Tired and unwilling to engage in further conversation with
the intern, I crossed the lobby as quickly as I could to the front
door.

The automatic doors slid open
to reveal darkness and rain. I didn't mind water falling from the
sky, but I did mind the way my clothing stuck to me when I was
drenched. Environmental water and clothing is a bad combination. It
seemed far more practical to me to go naked in the rain.

I braced myself for the
uncomfortable restriction of my wet pants clinging to my legs when
a hand touched my arm. Aidan stood beside me, screwing his nose up
at the rain.

"It's times like this that I
realise why I left Ireland for Australia," he told me with a big
smile.

"Why did you leave Ireland,
then?" I asked.

"For the beautiful, sunny
Australian climate!" He laughed and started to open an umbrella,
again reminding me of an octopus. This time, the octopus appeared
to be jetting through the water to evade something unpleasant,
unable to find a rock cleft to hide in. I knew how it felt.

After two or three tries, Aidan
managed to keep his umbrella open. He waved his hand toward the
raindrop-free zone created under its expanse. "It's a golf
umbrella, with room for two. I'll walk you to your car, if you
like."

For the second time that day, I
permitted the intern to do me a favour. He didn't say anything
while we walked to the car. I opened the door and glanced at the
back seat, but the strong smell of cleaning chemicals alerted me
before I turned my head. The reddened seat had returned to plain
grey, much like the skies above and my own thoughts. Helen had
truly taken care of my car and I doubly owed her my thanks.

He waited without moving until
I sat in the driver's seat. My fingers curled stiffly around the
door handle to pull it shut.

"Come to dinner with me?" the
intern asked, in a rush.

I raised my eyebrows, but
didn't reply.

His face turned red, making his
fiery red hair look pale for the first time. "I mean, if you want
to, it would be really nice if you came with me to the pub to have
dinner tonight. After a long day like this, the last thing I want
to do is cook, and your day was harder than mine."

For a moment, I wondered if
this strange man could read my mind. I'd intended to stop for some
takeaway fish and chips on my way home. Perhaps it might be
pleasant to eat in a restaurant for once, instead of in my small
house by myself.

I stared at him a moment,
before I heard the word spoken with my voice. "Okay."

His face faded from red to pink
to white and he smiled, looking slightly stunned. "So, meet you at
the Tanglehead?"

It took me a moment to remember
this was the name of a brewery near the port. For the third time, I
replied, "Okay."

Two beers and a very filling
meal later, Aidan admitted that he owed me.

"Why?" I asked diffidently,
sipping my beer.

"Your patient today should have
been mine. If you hadn't been there, I would have stuffed up and I
don't know what would have happened. I'm terrified of babies." From
his wide-eyed expression, I judged that this was not a joke but the
truth.

For the first time, I smiled.
"How can you be afraid of babies?"

He looked embarrassed. "I'm the
youngest of eight kids back in Ireland. One of my aunties moved
over here and married an Australian, so I came over to do my
internship, when I finished my medical degree. I've never delivered
a baby and this one would have been my first. Mum never let me hold
any of my nieces and nephews, because she was afraid I'd drop the
babies. I guess I got scared I'd drop them, too. They're so tiny!"
He spread out his big hands, wide enough to cradle the premature
baby I'd delivered this afternoon.

"Ah." I nodded, understanding.
His fear was like that of most first-time fathers, or at least the
few I'd seen. Most of the babies I'd delivered never knew their
fathers. This was probably for the best. It was the ones who never
knew their mothers that made me...

I hurriedly gulped down the
last of my beer as he drained his second. Coming from such a
fertile family, he'd surely never experienced the loss I'd
suffered. He wouldn't understand.

We both stood up at the same
time. Together, we walked to the cashier and paid for our meal.

Outside the pub, he thanked me
for joining him for dinner.

I replied in kind and headed
into the darkness toward my car before he could follow. My tears
dripped silently to the blackness of the parking lot, unseen and
unheard by any but me.

The following morning, as I
sipped my coffee alone in the hospital cafeteria, the intern slid
into the seat across from me.

"Do you mind if I join you?" he
asked with a grin, taking a slurp before clunking his own coffee
cup down on the table.

I shook my head, not lifting my
eyes or my lips from the cup. Last night had been a long and lonely
one, darker than most, given the memories Miranda had inadvertently
stirred. I needed my caffeine more than ever. In fact, I was
considering a second cup, if time permitted.

The man seemed to be waiting
for something, but he appeared too eager to practice patience for
long. "Look, I haven't been here very long and I don't know anyone.
I was wondering if you could help me out with some recommendations
on how best to live here in Albany – where to eat and buy stuff,
where the best nightlife is...hell, I'd be incredibly grateful. I'd
buy you dinner, anywhere you like."

I summoned a smile. "I've only
been here a few months myself. I hardly know where would be best to
do most things and I rarely see much nightlife, unless you count
kangaroos when I'm on early shifts. After yesterday, I'd prefer not
to see too many more of those."

I suppressed a shudder but my
smile evaporated.

He seemed to understand, yet
still he persisted. "Even just someone to sit with for coffee and
break times. You're the only person here who's spoken more than two
words to me that weren't work-related since I arrived a week ago."
His smile refused to fade. "Please?"

I shrugged. "Sit where you
like. I don't mind." I drained my coffee and stood to make another.
I decided I just had time for it.

He reached for my cup. "Let me
get you another one. I need a second one, too."

I surrendered the empty mug.
"White, one sugar."

His grin widened. "Same as
mine." He strode away.

I wondered what he saw in my
company to attract him. It didn't matter. Whatever it was, he'd
probably imagined it and would soon realise this.

I did not share his fear of
being alone. For me, it was simply a way of life.

The ward was both busy and
short-staffed. Too many had succumbed to early colds with the onset
of the winter weather. I barely managed to get breaks for the
remainder of my week, so in my brief time in the cafeteria I saw
nothing of the intern.

As always, busy periods are
succeeded by lulls. I was granted a longer lunch break than usual
when an influx of third-year nursing students invaded the hospital.
The shortage of staff became a surplus that I was pleased to enjoy,
however briefly.

Lunch came
with another unexpected surprise – the first harvest of winter
vegetables was in. The menu board proudly advertised this, along
with the
Return of the Rainbow
Lasagne
.

I surveyed the colourful,
layered slab on my plate as I sat down at a table by the window,
trying to work out what was in each layer. The red meat sauce I
recognised, along with the pumpkin beneath it. The squash and
zucchini layers I identified after a few moments, but the blue and
purple ones left me mystified. I carved up a bite and forked it
into my mouth, hoping the taste might help me.

I admitted defeat as I
swallowed, resolving to let it remain a mystery. I opened my eyes
to cut another piece, still puzzled.