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‘Ow!’
‘Serves you right. Of all the stereotyping males...’
‘Hey, you’re the one with the wicked stepmother.’
‘Do you want to hear this or not?’
‘Yes,’ he said promptly, because he did. ‘Tell Dr Ben.’
‘Your bedside manner needs improving.’
‘My bedside manner is perfect,’ he said, and put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer. ‘I’d like some springs in this mattress but otherwise I can’t think of a single improvement.’
‘Ben...’
‘Go on,’ he said encouragingly. ‘Tell me what happened next. Tell me about the baby.’
There was a long silence. She lay still. Seemingly unbidden, his fingers traced a pattern in her hair. It felt...right to do so. Half of him expected her to pull away, but she didn’t.
Tell me, he willed her silently, and wondered why it seemed so important that she did.
Finally it came.
‘So now I’m grown up, living in the same community as my stepmother and my stepsisters and my dad. My dad’s still like a dried-up husk. The others ignore me. I’m the dreary local nurse who uses traditional medicine, which they despise. They put up with me when I drop in to visit my dad but that’s as far as the relationship goes.
‘But now they’ve started having babies—not my stepmum but the girls. Sapphire, Rainbow and Sunrise. Home births all. No hospitals or traditional medicine need apply. They’ve had six healthy babies between them, with my stepmother crowing that traditional medicine’s responsible for all the evils of the world. And then...catastrophe.’
‘Catastrophe?’
‘One dead baby,’ she said, drearily now. ‘Sunrise, my youngest stepsister, is massively overweight. The pregnancy went two weeks over term but she still refused to be checked. Then she went into labour, and a day later she was still labouring. She was at home with my stepmother and one of her sisters to support her. And then I dropped in.’
‘To help?’
‘I hadn’t even been told she was due,’ she said. ‘When I arrived I realised Dad was in Auckland on business but they’d taken over the house as a birthing centre. I walked in and Sunrise was out of her mind with pain and exhaustion. There was bleeding and the baby was in dire trouble. I guess I just took over. I rang the ambulance and the hospital and warned them but I knew already... I’d listened... The baby’s heartbeat was so faint...’
‘The baby died?’
‘They called her Sunset. How corny’s that for a dying baby? She was suffering from a hypoxic brain injury and she died when she was three days old. Sunrise was lucky to survive. She won’t be able to have more children.’
‘So that makes you a baby killer?’
‘I didn’t know,’ she said drearily, ‘how much my stepmother really resented me until then. Or make that hate. I have no idea why, but at the coroner’s inquest she stood in the witness stand and swore I’d told Sunrise it was safe. She swore I’d said everything was fine. I’d been the chosen midwife, she said, and my stepsisters concurred. Of course they would have gone to the hospital, they said, but one after another they told the court that I’d said they didn’t need to.
‘And you know what? My dad believed them. The coroner believed them. They came out of the court and Sunrise was crying, but my stepmother actually smirked. She tucked her arm in Dad’s arm and they turned their backs on me. She’s had her way after all this time. I’m finally right out of her family.’
Silence. More silence.
He shouldn’t have asked, he thought. How to respond to a tragedy like this?
‘My roller-derby team has asked me to quit,’ she said into the dark. ‘My dad—or Barbie—employs two of the girls’ partners. Some of my medical colleagues stand by me—they know what I would and wouldn’t do—but the town’s too small for me to stay. I’m on unpaid leave now but I know I’ll have to go.’
‘So you’ve come to the great metropolis of Hideaway.’ His fingers remained on her hair, just touching. Just stroking. ‘I can see the logic.’
‘I needed time out.’
‘What are you writing?’
‘Writing?
‘By the fire. While I was snoozing.’
‘That’s none of your business,’ she said, shocked.
‘Sorry. Diary? No, I won’t ask.’ He hesitated for all of two seconds. ‘Did you put something nice about me in it?’
‘Only how much you weigh. Like a ton.’ The mood had changed again. Lightness had returned. Thankfully.
‘That’s not kind,’ he said, wounded.
‘It’s what matters. My shoulder’s sore.’
‘My leg’s worse.’
‘Do you need more painkillers? We can double the dose.’
‘Yes, please,’ he said, even though a hero would have knocked them back. Actually, a hero would have put her aside, braved a cyclone or two, swum to the mainland and knocked the heads of her appalling family together. A hero might do that in the future but for now his leg did indeed hurt. Knocking heads together needed to take a back seat. But it wouldn’t be forgotten, he promised himself. Just shelved.
‘If I have hurt your shoulder...you can take painkillers too.’
‘I’m on duty.’
‘You’re not on duty,’ he told her, gentling again. ‘You need to sleep.’
‘In a cyclone?’
‘This isn’t a cyclone. This is an edge of a cyclone.’
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