* *
*
Three days later their results were posted on the Notice Board. A typewritten slip said:
“
These trainees were successful in their Progress Examination,
”
and underneath was J. Barlow and beneath Jessa, M. South.
“
Darling, you must have pipped me,
”
congratulated Margaret wholeheartedly.
“
It
’
s probably alphabetically.
”
“
It wasn
’
t at G.S.
”
No, it hadn
’
t been alphabetically at Great Southern, it had been by merit, but if it was by merit now there was nothing sweet about it to the victor. Jessa looked at her name on top of Margaret
’
s and knew no spoils at all.
CHAPTER IX
A MONTH had passed since their return from the island. In another few weeks they would be entitled to their second break.
During that month Jessa had been kept busier than ever. And in that month she had not once seen Professor Gink.
It made the Cause much more difficult to further (she always thought of her plan for Margaret and the Professor now as beginning with a capital letter).
It also made it very dreary—though she never would have admitted it—for her.
The Perfesser, for instance. It was not nearly so much fun watching a tiny baby take shape when you watched alone.
Of course all the other nurses were interested as well, so was Doctor Elizabeth, so was Matron Martha, yet somehow she felt that her own interest was in an entirely different category. She felt almost, she thought, as a parent must feel, and she earnestly believed that Professor Gink felt likewise. This made Master X the centre of concern of two parents, and that made the tiny foundling no longer a foundling but a child who belonged. Jessa blushed vividly at the unplanned inference of her thoughts.
But it was no use denying the fact, she
did
miss that tall daddy-long-legs scholar with the owl glasses and the suit that needed dusting, the hair that wouldn
’
t sit down.
It was simply the same as Margaret
’
s interest in Crescent Island, she told herself sensibly, a thing as brief as a chocolate
éclair
, as temporary as summer rain.
None the less the long corridor became even longer and lonelier; it was no use looking for a lanky shadow on its wall when you knew the shadow would not be there.
Without actually asking for it she gathered information as to the Professor
’
s whereabouts. He had flown to India to advise a clinic. From there he had gone on to Burma, then down to Africa, over to Tasmania, across to New Zealand. He, who had broken a pencil on Matron Martha
’
s blotter as he doodled and told her,
“
I would like to visit your home, Nurse Jess.
”
Visit Crescent Island, an unimportant blob on the Pacific Ocean only a few hours from the coast! How could he say that after the far-flung places to which he had gone?
Jessa never permitted herself to analyse those words of the Professor
’
s, those
“
I
’
d like to visit your home, Nurse Jess.
”
When people started analysing things they often came to impossible conclusions. The only probable explanation as to why Professor Gink had stated a desire to visit Crescent would be a home one, something to do with babies, of course. Unless—and for a moment Jessa had paused in her diapering of Calypso—the Professor had become aware of Margaret, and was only hoping that his visit might coincide with a visit by her. Lots of people wangled invitations for other reasons than the apparent one. Perhaps he had said
“
your
”
home, but seen Margaret there instead. Jessa recalled that evening she had rounded the corner of the corridor and found Margaret and the Professor talking animatedly together. Yes, there might be no need for any more scheming on my part, she thought.
The Perfesser was now an old man of three and a half months, on the verge of full time and nearly up to water baths.
“
What will become of him, Sister Helen?
”
asked Jessa, and the kindly sister had shrugged.
“
We
’
ll keep him as long as we can—longer than a baby with a normal home to go to. But we can
’
t keep him indefinitely, the Child Welfare would see to that.
”
“
He
’
ll soon be up to sun kicks, outings in a pram. But, of course, he hasn
’
t a pram.
”
Jessa looked glum.
“
Indeed, there is a pram at Belinda. Master X isn
’
t our first prem foundling. Chloe was wheeled out quite often before she finally left.
”
“
Chloe?
”
“
We called her that because she was discovered in the Lost end of the Lost and Found at the Central Railway. Quite early in her life, fortunately. You have to start early on a prem if it
’
s to live.
”
“
Someone had left her there?
”
Jessa was horrified.
“
At seven months, my dear, one doesn
’
t walk in to report a loss.
”
“
And what happened to Chloe?
”
“
She is Denise now. She was adopted the moment she reached full time and was transferred to the Welfare
’
s care. She was an attractive poppet.
”
“
A happy ending.
”
“
Probably much happier than what it might have been, and that
’
s disagreeing with Professor Gink. Home is-not always as sweet as the text on the wall says.
”
Sister Helen looked a little grim.
“
Do you think Master X will be adopted later?
”
“
Records state that girls are more in demand than boys. However, he
’
s filling out nicely. Might improve even more, who knows!
”
“
But he
’
s beautiful now,
”
protested Jessa indignantly. Sister Helen smiled tolerantly. Privately she considered Master X a decidedly plain prem.
“
Rose-coloured spectacles,
”
she commended Jessa,
“
go well with your red hair.
”
Half a dozen of the nurses had finished their Belinda training, been presented
with
a certificate and been shaken hands by Matron and a V.I.P. of the Belinda Board. Two of them had been asked to stop on as sisters.
“
If you keep pipping me in examinations,
”
said Margaret,
“
one day you
’
ll be asked, Jessa.
”
“
Me!
”
Jessa laughed.
“
I still suspect those results were alphabetical, and, anyway, remember my collection of chids.
”
As Margaret looked mystified she recited:
“
Come when you
’
re called, Do as you
’
re bid; Shut the door after you, Never be chid.
”
... Shut the door after you. All at once she was remembering the Professor crumpling up that sheet of doodled blotter and throwing it into Matron
’
s waste paper basket. A clean sheet, she recalled thinking. Somehow it had had the same definite finality as a closed door.
The G.S. graduates had met again; and this time the previously honeymooning Jennifer had joined the group. Mavis had been proud to announce that she would be the first of their crowd to have a baby, but Jan had spoiled the effect somewhat by relating her delivery of a baby.
“
You do simply everything,
”
she said loftily,
“
outback.
”
Della, too, had a story. It had been a rather frightening accident in the factory and she had had to climb over a turbine to render first aid.
In comparison to all these true experiences, including Dinah
’
s assistance to an emergency appendicostomy at sea
—“
It was rough weather and we had to strap the patient down
”
—Jessa felt she could scarcely interrupt to relate the intricacies of an oil and lanolin bath. Once more she had come back to Belinda feeling very unimportant and not at all big.
Ba had rang up to make another appointment for the Gardens.
“
Pick a date when Meg can come along,
”
he suggested.
Jessa did.
For the first time in many years he did not suggest walking round the Wishing Tree—but Margaret suggested it.
Round and round went Margaret and Ba, Jessa watching indulgently. They did not say a word, obeying the Fairy Rule, until they had made their wish. And then, of course, they did not confide their wish. That was another of the Fairy Rules.
Later, as they wound their way past the Japanese garden across to Mrs. Macquarie
’
s Chair, Jessa made her usual complaint about buns on a bench at which Margaret looked aghast.
“
But it
’
s glorious here. It reminds me of Crescent.
”
“
Just what I always say,
”
beamed Barry, very pleased.
He had lots of things to relate about the island.
The Tourist Bureau had taken over at last; the
Matthew Flinders
3
was off the run.
“
You haven
’
t sold it, Ba?
”
It was Margaret, aghast once more.
“
Well, no, not yet. I
’
ll have to, of course, but I keep on postponing the bitter day.
Matthew
’
s
pretty near my heart.
”
Barry was on a bigger salary now and had a co-pilot. The route across the ocean was meticulously mapped out.—
“
As though,
”
contemptuously,
“
I couldn
’
t find my way to the island blindfold in the dark.
”
The plane had a navigator, too, a wireless man and a hostess.
“
No more tea and biscuits, young Jessa, we have coffee, if you please, and little fancy cakes.
”
“
The Jessamine,
”
interrupted Jessa breathlessly, and Ba started telling them about the old inn.
“
You
’
ll scarcely recognize your home. It
’
s as different from the palm and copra meeting-place you grew up in as a suite in the Australia Hotel from a wattle and daub shack.
”
“
The Jessamine was never like a wattle and daub shack,
”
came back Jessa indignantly.
“
I never said it was, I
’
m just saying it
’
s changed.
”
After a while, Ba elaborated.
“
It looks good enough—or will—if your taste runs to Hollywood. Cane lounges and bucket chairs on the patio, rattan curtains to the doors. Then the beach—recall that half-moon of white sand?
”
Jessa nodded dumbly.
“
Sardine-tight with coloured umbrellas,
”
gloomed Ba.
“
Bikini suits underneath the umbrellas, aqua-planes beyond the reef.
”
“
How is Vanda doing?
”
“
Not so well as regards the Tourist Bureau, she isn
’
t such a remarkable organizer, but quite well for herself. Three proposals to date.
”
“
And Roger?
”
“
He
should
be happy—your Dad tells me there is a bigger quota of female guests than male—but somehow I don
’
t
know
—”
“
Don
’
t know what?
”
persisted Jessa.
Ba shrugged and left it at that.
“
This trip and the two after I take along a convention load of fifteen passengers, making forty-five in all, members of some association or other who want to discuss things in a quiet place.
”
“
It can
’
t be very quiet with all those sardine umbrellas.
”
“
The sardines will be gone. These island tours the Bureau is running take ten days to complete from start to finish, and the tourists have to keep to their arrival and departure schedule. In between time the conventions take over the pub.
”