The Golden Land (21 page)

‘No, you're right. Don't you go back there sometimes? When are you going back to Burma? Could you return it?' asked Natalie.

‘I hadn't planned on going to Burma any time soon,' said Vicki. ‘But I will be going, of course, and as soon as I am, I'll let you know and I'll make sure that your precious gift gets into the hands of the princess.'

‘Thank you for that. That's settled then,' said Natalie. She put down her cup, went over to her desk and returned with the little teak box. ‘I guess that my gesture won't change the political landscape in Burma, but I feel that I'm completing a journey that started more than eighty years ago. This kammavaca rightfully belongs in Burma, not on the top of my desk.'

After Vicki left, Natalie sat down and wrote a letter to Princess Aye Aye, trying to formulate the words to express her decision to return the kammavaca.

The sight of those monks, surrounded by unarmed citizens trying to protect them, touched me deeply. I'm learning about the desire of the Burmese people to have the freedom we all take for granted in Australia. The repression and poverty they suffer makes me very aware of the importance of the basic human rights denied to the Burmese. I wish I could do more to help. I have been working with like-minded people trying to raise awareness of the plight of Burma. But this is not enough, and now I would like to do something more.

I have been thinking a lot about my great-great-uncle, Andrew Hancock, who was determined to return your grandfather's kammavaca to Princess Tipi Si. He died while trying to fulfil his promise to her. Now I realise that my family has just been the caretaker of your kamma-vaca, which was wrongly taken in the first place, and that its importance to you is far greater than any attachment I might have. Therefore I have decided to send the kammavaca back to you for safekeeping. I have a friend who makes irregular trips to Burma and she has agreed that the next time she travels to your country she will bring the kammavaca with her and see that it reaches you. I hope this small gesture will complete the circle that links our forebears, and in a small way show you that the Burmese people are not alone.

The following morning, after she posted the letter, she felt her heart lift.

When Natalie told Mark that evening what she had done he seemed surprised.

‘Are you sure? You seemed so attached to it. The family connection and so on. You sure you're thinking straight and it's not some pregnancy whim? A rush of blood to the head?'

‘No. I feel really good about it. Those scenes on TV were horrific, you saw them. I know in the scheme of things returning the kammavaca's a small gesture, but it just feels right,' said Natalie.

‘It's a nice gesture and a very generous one, giving away all that money. Are you going to let that dealer in London know? How're the kids today? Charlotte still excited about the ballet concert?'

‘"Concert" makes it sound pretty grand. The girls are dancing a little story about Bambi being lost in the forest. I think it's the costumes they're most excited about. I'll take lots of photos for you.'

The end-of-term ballet concert was a great success although Adam didn't find it very entertaining, and Natalie had quite a job distracting him while the older children performed onstage. Jodie's daughter was also in the concert and Natalie and Jodie sat next to each other to watch the performance.

‘Aren't the girls cute? They just love dressing up. It's as though they were born to perform,' said Jodie. ‘How are things with you? You look tired.'

‘Situation normal. I stayed up a bit late last night writing a letter to Burma, I was so horrified by the news there. And then this morning I tripped over one of Adam's toys and fell into the washing basket. Lucky it was a soft landing, but I just felt like staying in the basket and going back to sleep. Once I'm horizontal, my eyes close.'

‘Yes, that footage from Burma was shocking. It made me sit up and take notice. Listen, Nat, you're not overdoing things, are you?' Jodie put her arm around her friend and gave her a little squeeze. ‘You don't have to make sure everything is perfect. There's a limit to what you can do when your house is being renovated. Leave as much of the housework as you can. When the kids are resting, have a nap or read a magazine.'

‘The house is so chaotic with the builders, and with Mark away I guess I overcompensate,' said Natalie. ‘But you're right. After all the excitement of this morning, I think we'll head home and hopefully we'll all have a good nap.'

That evening when Natalie spoke to Mark she thought he sounded tired, too.

‘Is there something wrong? You sound very down,' said Natalie.

‘Just a bit overworked. These hours can be a killer. I think that we both need a holiday, though who knows when we'll be able to do that!'

‘When this place is finished, living here will be a holiday!' said Natalie, trying to make Mark feel happier.

‘I'm trying to get there, sweetheart. You know that.'

‘Mark, I wasn't criticising you,' said Natalie quickly. ‘Just trying to look on the bright side, when all these renos are eventually finished.'

They changed the subject and after she'd hung up, Natalie decided against sorting out the washing piled in the basket and to forgo a TV program she had planned to watch, and went straight to bed. She read only two pages of her book before she fell asleep.

The luminous face of the bedside clock glowed in the dark, showing 2.40 a.m. Natalie turned over and was suddenly aware of a warm dampness beneath her. She groaned. Had she wet the bed? Thank goodness she was sleeping alone. She slid from the bed but when she felt how wet her nightdress was, her heart sank. Something wasn't right. Hurriedly she turned on the bedside light and gasped as she saw a watery stain and realised what it was.

‘Oh no!' Instinctively she wrapped her arms across her belly, cradling her baby, and sat on the edge of the bed. She grabbed the phone and called Mark. The phone rang out and went to voicemail. She tried again but he still didn't answer. She lay back down again, wondering what to do. She called Jodie.

‘Sorry, Jodie, it's me. I can't get onto Mark. I think I have to get to hospital. My waters have broken . . .'

‘Oh, shit, Nat! Call 000, then don't do anything. I'll get dressed and come over and stay with the kids. Don't worry about them. Stay calm.'

Natalie drew deep breaths as she shakily dialled the emergency number and repeated her name and address. The operator was cool and efficient.

‘Just lie quietly. Have you had any contractions?'

Natalie was about to say that she hadn't when she felt a sudden tweaking tremor ripple across her abdomen.

‘Yes,' she whispered. ‘Just now.'

‘How far along is your pregnancy?' the operator asked.

‘Not quite thirty weeks. It's too soon.'

‘If we send an ambulance for you, will you be able to let the paramedics in?'

‘I'll unlock the front door and leave the light on. Please ask them to be quiet. I have children sleeping.'

‘Is someone available to look after them?'

‘Yes, she's on her way.'

‘An ambulance has been dispatched. Please stay off the phone in case they need to contact you.'

Natalie carefully lifted herself from the bed and, as calmly as she could, went to open the front door. Returning to her bed, she willed the baby to settle down, but the quivers were becoming stronger contractions. Natalie held herself gently, singing and whispering to her baby.

‘Stay there, stay there. Hold on, sweetheart. It's too early. Too early. You're not ready for the world. Please, please, God, hold this baby back.'

The phone by the bed rang and Natalie grabbed it.

‘Natalie, this is Sandy Fleming, I'm a paramedic. I'm in the ambulance and we're on our way. Won't be long. Can you tell me where you are in the house? Are there lights on? How old are the other children?'

‘They're little, three and four. I've unlocked the front door and I have a girlfriend coming . . . Please hurry, I'm having contractions, I don't want to have this baby. It's too soon. Please hurry.'

‘We're only five minutes away. It'll be all right. Listen to me, even babies at thirty weeks are strong little critters. Don't worry. Keep calm and we'll be there to help very, very soon.'

The young woman's voice was soothing and professional. Natalie wished Mark was there. How could she cope without his reassuring presence? She knew that the children would be fine with Jodie.

She waited, closing her eyes, gripping her belly and trying to block out what was happening by taking slow, deep breaths. She heard the door open and Jodie was in the room.

‘I don't suppose you've got a bag ready for hospital? Where are your night things? Dressing gown? Nighties?' She pulled open the drawers as Natalie gave her instructions. ‘Anything else you want?'

‘Phone charger. Toothbrush. I don't know.' Tears rolled down her face.

‘No matter. I'll get that gear over to you if you need it. Could just be a false alarm and you'll be home for breakfast.'

Natalie shook her head. ‘I have a horrible feeling about this . . .'

‘There's the ambulance out the front, I'll let them in.' Jodie hurried to the door.

But the paramedics, a man and a woman, were already through the door, both carrying a mass of equipment in backpacks, as well as an oxygen cylinder and a collapsible stretcher.

‘She's through there,' said Jodie.

The young woman gave Natalie a warm smile. ‘Hello, I'm Sandy. This is John. And you're Natalie?'

‘Yes.' In a rush Natalie started to blurt out what had happened. As she talked, Sandy quickly took her pulse while John erected the stretcher.

‘So you're thirty weeks along are you, Natalie? Any spotting or bleeding before this? Cramps? Have you recently fallen or strained yourself? We need to get you to hospital and then we'll have you into the obstetric ward in no time. Just turn around and slide over onto the stretcher. Pop your bottom on here. There we go. Lie down. Relax.'

The paramedics gave Natalie a calm and steady stream of simple instructions. While they moved swiftly, talking reassuringly, Sandy kept her fingers on Natalie's pulse, maintaining eye contact and a friendly smile.

‘We'll make this a quick trip, eh?' Sandy said to John.

‘Yep, no worries, mate.'

In moments they were heading for the front door with an ashen-faced Natalie under a sheet.

‘She's going to be fine and so is her baby,' Sandy said to Jodie. ‘You okay to hold the fort? Let's go.'

Jodie nodded as the paramedics slammed the ambulance doors shut and were off in a matter of seconds.

In the back of the ambulance, Natalie started to hyperventilate and Sandy, sitting beside her, placed an oxygen mask over her face. When Natalie pulled up her legs, Sandy asked, ‘Strong contractions? Take deep breaths.'

Natalie shook her head but she saw Sandy give John a concerned look. She didn't register the siren's wail. All she saw were the streetlights and an occasional flash of neon. Suddenly she gripped Sandy's wrist.

‘It's coming! Stop, stop, the ambulance. My baby's coming.'

Sandy spoke calmly. ‘All right, Natalie, I'm here. If there's a problem, we'll pull over, but we're nearly at the hospital now, so we'll try and get there. Help me, now. Pull up your legs and hold on here to the sides of the bed.'

Natalie didn't notice John accelerating or feel the ambulance swinging around corners.

‘I need you to help me, Natalie. Just breathe through the contractions. Try not to push just yet.'

Natalie shook her head. ‘No, no. I don't want it to come. It's too early!' she cried, grasping her belly.

‘Natalie, your baby is coming. There's no stopping it now. We'll get you to hospital as quickly as we can so your baby can be looked after. Everyone is waiting for you there. It's going to be fine, okay? On three, give me a big push, breathe and push,' commanded Sandy firmly.

The next minutes were a blur as Natalie felt her baby expelled in a watery rush from her body. As she struggled to lean forward over the restraining straps of the bed, she began crying.

‘Is it all right, is it all right?'

Despite the fast-moving vehicle, Sandy had the baby, a tiny bundle, laid in her lap. ‘Natalie, it's a little boy. Bit on the skinny side, a bit out of breath. Couldn't wait, eh, mister?' she chatted calmly to the baby, as she quickly worked on the tiny, pale blue infant, massaging his chest with two fingers, wrapping him in a warm blanket then slipping a small oxygen mask onto his face. ‘Come on, little fella, big breath.'

Natalie lay back, great sobs racking her body.

Sandy seemed to be talking to herself. ‘One two three, that's my little man. Come on, one more.' She used a little suction device to get rid of the mucus from his mouth.

Natalie saw the Accident and Emergency sign as they screamed into the driveway of the hospital and turned to Sandy. ‘Is he breathing?' she asked in panic.

In reply Natalie heard a faint squeak of a whimper, then a gulp as a tinge of pink crept into the baby's face.

Sandy laid the warmly wrapped infant next to Natalie in the crook of her arm. ‘Have you got a name for him?'

Natalie closed her eyes. ‘Andrew.'

‘Nat, the kids are fine, wolfing down breakfast. How's the little bloke? And how're you? Have you talked to Mark yet?' asked Jodie over the phone.

‘Mark's on his way. It's all a bit of a blur. I've been given some medication, so I'm a bit woozy. The baby is in a humidicrib in the intensive care nursery. He's got breathing problems. God, Jodie, he's so tiny, so fragile, smaller than Charlotte's doll. He weighs less than one and a half kilos . . .' She started to cry.

‘Nat, he's going to be fine. What did Mark say?'