“
You
’
ll have several breaks before that. Matron Martha told me that leave is more generous here because of the high-pressure work.
”
Margaret paused.
“
What will you do, Jessa, after you
’
ve finished with Belinda?
”
Jessa thought privately that she was too relieved just now to be accepted by Belinda, let alone think of what would happen when she was finally dismissed.
“
I don
’
t believe I know myself, Margaret,
”
she admitted.
Margaret smiled.
“
Marry?
”
she suggested slyly.
“
I don
’
t know. There
’
s Ba, of course, who sent me that card, and he
’
s a dear, but I still don
’
t know.
”
She paused in her turn.
“
What about yourself?
”
Margaret smiled again, happily, contentedly.
“
Old people, perhaps
... or nursing the incapacitated, the disabled something like that.
”
Jessa sighed deeply.
“
Darling Margaret, I
’
m going to find it hard living up to you,
”
she said.
They strolled back over the grounds, green and
well-tended
, with leafy hedges and a few trees already resonant with the end-of-the-day twitterings of tired little birds. It was pleasant, but it was all rather small, even confined, since being a national hospital it had perforce to be situate in the very core of the city, and there was no room for settings or extensive lawns.
Jessa thought a little wistfully of Crescent Island, the reef, the sea beyond, the wide-sands, the shoal of little brown fish that were really island picaninnies, Lopi in the background with its lava rock and crater and inward fire.
As they passed the notice-board again they saw that something else had joined the invitations to sign up for the musical society or patronize the hospital library.
There was to be a lecture, the sheet read, in the second hall, by Professor Gink. All able to attend would be expected to as a matter of course.
“
Gink...
”
frowned Jessa, and wondered idly where she had heard it. It was rather an amusing name, a name one
shouldn
’
t forget. Probably it had belonged to some island trader calling in at the Jessamine Hotel after collecting sponges and conchi shell, she decided. She thought it would not be a very flattering tag for a woman to be called Professor Gink, even though Professor sounded very learned and tremendously important. And she
would
be a woman, most certainly, because this hospital, as everyone knew, was female to the core.
CHAPTER I
II
WHEN she went along to the locker room with Margaret first thing in the morning, the colour that took Jessa
’
s eye in a twinkling was the happy pink.
“
That
’
s for me,
”
she said gladly.
“
I need some joyfulness
—
unless, Margaret, you had the same idea.
”
“
I
’
m a size taller, a size thinner,
”
reminded Margaret,
“
and besides, this lilac just fits my mood.
”
“
On Crescent Island,
”
chattered Jessa excitedly,
“
we have frangipani in just this pink as well as in cream.
”
“
Is that why you chose it?
”
said Margaret sympathetically.
“
Are you a little homesick, Jessa?
”
“
I don
’
t think so, and to tell the truth I just don
’
t know why I grabbed the pink.
”
But as they came down the stairs for breakfast, their crisp skirts rustling starchily, their little caps perched on their heads, one acorn-brown head, one red, Jessa thought she knew why.
It was quite absurd, really, and it would be hard to explain, but the Barlows had always been a rhyming family like this.
She told Margaret about it, very confusedly, but then of course it wasn
’
t a subject particularly overladen with intelligence.
“
It might sound silly to you, to outsiders,
”
she said doubtfully,
“
but it made sense to us, Meg. Dad might say at brekker, for instance:
‘Jessamine,
you
’
re looking fine, but that melon and pine you
’
re eating is mine,
’
and I
’
d reply,
‘
I may look sunny, but I
’
m not your bunny, so don
’
t be funny, spread your toast with honey.
’
You see?
”
“
Not very well,
”
admitted Margaret apologetically.
“
I mean, did your mother—
”
“
Mother,
”
said Jessamine,
“
had breakfast in bed.
”
“
I still don
’
t understand how the pink uniform connects up.
”
“
Well, we used only to rhyme in the morning, Daddy and I. It was an early Barlow habit, I suppose, like singing in the bath. I often found myself doing it in the a.m.
’
s at G.S. I might recite—
”
“
Yes,
”
nodded Margaret hastily, skipping all that,
“
but how do you associate
pink?
”
“
Gink
,
”
grinned back Jessa triumphantly
. “
Professor Gink.
,
A lecture in the second hall, remember? It was hung on the notice-board. I couldn
’
t think where I
’
d heard the name before; I decided it must be one of the conchi traders, but I must have been unconvinced, otherwise I wouldn
’
t have been carrying
Gink
around in my subconscious like that and grabbed the
pink
uniform, do you understand?
”
Margaret said in bewilderment,
“
Oh, dear.
”
“
It
’
s not really as psycho as it sounds,
”
apologized Jessa anxiously.
“
You see, I had Gink on my mind because I knew I
’
d heard it before, and having the habit of early rhyming, I guess I took the
pink
to rhyme with
Gink.
”
“
Not mauve to go with cove or yellow to go with fellow,
”
giggled Margaret, following at last.
Jessa took her seriously.
“
No, but all the same I could have, because that particular Gink was a man. He was the parent who waylaid me. Remember me telling you? Well, it was a father, not a mother, visiting the prem. Poor fellow, he was gazing in at his little son. I was glad it was a boy; great sails of ears. It doesn
’
t matter with men, no ear-rings, you see. It didn
’
t really matter with his dad, either, oddly enough.
”
She thought about Mr. Daddy-long-legs Gink and his owl glasses and disheveled hair and rather sweet simpleness.
She said sincerely,
“
He was quite a pet. I liked him from
the beginning.”
They turned into the dining-room. Just as at the Great Southern, it was only half filled. Meals would always be staggered here as at all hospitals. Jessa saw substantial plates of oatmeal and large platters of bacon and eggs, and thought of her three weeks
’
break at Crescent Island and of the sugared paw-paw, sliced pineapple and iced coffee that Benjamin had carried deferentially to her side. She sighed and took her turn in the small queue at the self-serve.
Margaret reached out for a tray and Jessa copied her.
“
It
’
s a
n
unusual name, isn
’
t it?
”
“
What name, Jessamine?
”
Jessa said,
“
Gink.
”
“
Oh, I don
’
t know, you
’
d probably find quite a few on the electoral roll or in the telephone directory.
”
“
Not in Crescent Island
’
s roll or directory,
”
said Jessa.
“
We have only thirty voters and eleven on the phone.
”
She added sadly, remembering the fame that was about to flood the island,
“
At least, we
did.
”
They chose a table near a window. Outside dew gemmed the lawns, hung shining jewels on the delicate lace the spiders had woven overnight on the branches of the shrubs.
“
Do you think,
”
asked Jessa, turning back her gaze,
“
he could be a relative of Professor Gink? That parent, I mean. And why isn
’
t Professor Gink Professor Mary or Professor Ermyntrude or something, the same as the rest of the allwoman staff?
”
“
Probably she isn
’
t staff,
”
said Margaret.
“
Probably she
’
s that valued adviser we have been told about. Come to think of it, Jessa, I believe I
’
ve often heard the name of Professor Gink, the same as one hears of the names of great pianists, or actresses, or social workers, only this time a fame associated with babies, of course.
”
“
Like Truby King or Spock or something?
”
Margaret buttered toast and said,
“
Yes.
”
They dropped the subject of the pink uniform and the coincidence of Professor Gink having the same name as Jessa
’
s parent by unspoken consent. They fell to and depleted their plates in silence. They had no illusions as to what lay ahead of them, and knew they would need all their strength. When Jessa did speak at last it was with a mouthful of food, and she said, with a sharp awareness of the task that lay
before them,
“
Meg, it
’
s not going to be a piece of cake.
”
She looked down at the depleted plate of bacon and eggs and they both laughed.
At eight o
’
clock they reported for duty. On this first day in their newness they were grateful that Matron Martha had kept them together.
They went up to Ward Two and Jessa kept close behind Margaret, who was already much more adept at
“
arriving
”
anywhere than she was. They went into the warm bright room.
It was not like a ward—it was more like a personal nursery, but a big nursery. In a laboratory adjoining, nurses and sisters were preparing the injection foods, the bottled foods having been made up already and put into hygienic storage for use throughout the day.
Jessa saw that every bottle was labelled with a baby
’
s name. She found herself looking for Gink, but could not find one. Poor little Gink mite, she thought, he must be an intravenous or a drop baby.
“
Nurse Margaret? Nurse Jess?
”
asked a sister briskly.
“
Which is which?
”
They disassociated themselves and Jessa was taken by a second sister, Sister Helen, she was smilingly told, to learn how to give a bath.
“
We
’
ll be easy on you on your first day and give you the Bouncer. He
’
s a whopper child, fully four and three-quarter pounds. He was an eight-monther, which gives him a start on the rest.
”
“
What,
”
trembled Jessa, looking down to the Bouncer, who seemed anything to her but a bouncer, who appeared delicate and dresden enough to break,
“
would a
small
baby weigh?
”
“
Fairy in Ward Three is four months premature, and her nappy safety-pin is as wide as she is,
”
said Sister Helen.
“
We haven
’
t dared weigh her yet.
”
Jessa looked with relief on the Bouncer. Compared to Fairy he would be a push-over.
“
Do I wash him?
”
“
You certainly don
’
t, but after next week you can every third day. But right now you
’
ll oil him, then apply lanolin. When you
’
ve
diapered
and put him down again, come to me and I
’
ll give you Bing for his two-hourly feed.
”
“
Bing croons, I suppose.
”
“
I haven
’
t heard him.
”
Sister Helen added over her shoulder as she left,
“
He has no hair.
”
Neither had the Bouncer, neither had an amazingly aggressive atom whom Sister Judith was feeding and whom Jessa privately decided to call the
Bruiser, but one little girl had. It was long and black and silky and it fell down in a perfect coiffure. Sister Judith saw Jessa looking at it and introduced,
“
Madeleine, our
femme fatale.
She hasn
’
t fingernails yet, but when they come we
’
re sure they
’
ll be painted red.
”
Jessa f
o
und the gauze and cottonwool and began gingerly on the Bouncer.
“
Don
’
t be frightened of him,
”
called Sister Helen across the room.
“
He
’
s one of our best toughs.
”
Eyes, nose and mouth washed, with the Bouncer earning his name by protesting at each operation, Jessa diapered and put him down and came over to feed Bing.
Bing
’
s bottle was taken out of storage. As she looked on the label
“
William Brown,
”
which was Bing
’
s proper name, Jessa kept her eye open again for Gink. Percy Gink, she thought, or even Aloysius Gink, but there was no bottle for any Gink at all.
Bing
’
s bottle was bigger than the taxi-man
’
s baby
’
s, but it was still much smaller than the bottles Jessa had used at G.S. And the process took much longer. Sister Helen, coming to watch her, explained,
“
This is a premmie
’
s main disadvantage, Nurse Jess, his difficulty to suck and swallow. You need patience and then some.
”