A HAZARD OF HEARTS (33 page)

‘You’re doing it again, decrying a perfectly
natural desire to return to the life you’ve always known. Jo-Beth, don’t you
realise what an opportunity this gives you to help the nursing profession in a
practical way?’

Elly’s enthusiasm had its effect, and Jo-Beth
said more cheerfully, ‘I know. A lady of means and influence could persuade
others of similar standing to interest themselves in raising funds, and provoke
discussion at political dinners. Pressure could be brought to bear upon
highly-connected husbands and brothers.’

‘Exactly. You will never be an idle socialite,
Jo-Beth, not with your brain. So you may forget guilt and anticipate a happy
life with a clear conscience – after you’ve finished washing the patient’s
legs.’

~*~

The Empire
offices
were scarcely overwhelming, thought Elly, unless she adopted noise level as the
criterion. Seated in the tiny space reserved for visitors while someone sent
for J.G., she covered her ears against the machines’ assault, feeling the
vibrations rise up through the floorboards.

 
Men rushed in and out
of doors, waving papers, attending machines, shouting to one another above the
incessant din in a pattern of controlled hysteria. Odours peculiar to the
printing trade: ink, chemicals, machine oil, made her wrinkle her nose, while
she thought the battered furniture and general sparseness of the newsroom more
suited to a poorhouse than a successful newspaper. Was Henry Parkes unable to
afford better? How could he get anyone to work in such an environment, let
alone detach himself sufficiently to produce the roaring diatribes that
galvanised half of Sydney Town?

A comparison with the more staid
Sydney
Herald
, the organ of squatters and men of wealth, had quickly decided her
in favour of
The Empire’
s vitality and willingness to take risks. She’d
long forgiven J.G. for the trouble his hospital article had caused her, and now
counted him as a good friend. It was as a friend she now needed his help.

He bustled in within a few minutes, striped
shirt-tails billowing from beneath his waistcoat, his ink-stained hand held out
to her.

‘‘Tis a fine day when the lady of my heart calls
to interrupt my work,’ he bellowed.

Elly shouted back, ‘J.G., how many hearts do you
have and how do you keep track of them all?’ She leapt as an almighty crash
shook the building and the clatter of machinery stopped. She lowered her voice.
‘What’s happened? Has it blown up?’

‘More than likely. Now, girl dear, come into my
little sanctum and tell me what brings you here.’ He ushered her through a
doorway into a minute cell furnished with a table, a tall cabinet and two
chairs that seemed to have survived a kicking with hob-nailed boots. The window
overlooked a malodorous lane between buildings, and J.G. hastily pulled down
the sash.

Elly subsided into the nearest chair, her ears
ringing with the sudden silence. ‘I need your help, J.G. I’ve had a letter from
Pearl, written weeks ago, saying she’d found no trace of her brother so she
intended to travel overland to the Victorian goldfields. She promised to
maintain contact through the Melbourne Post Office. I want you to help me
influence her to abandon her search.’

‘Me, influence Pearl!’ J.G.’s brows hit his
hairline and his jaw dropped ludicrously. ‘It’s mad you are. The minx is more
likely to do the opposite to any advice I might give her. Who was it wanted to
feed me bamboo slivers in me dinner?’

‘J.G., we’ve got to do something. I’m afraid she’ll
come to harm if she persists with this perilous expedition. She’s lost the
childish air that carried her through beforehand as a boy, or haven’t you
noticed?’

‘Oh, I’ve noticed.’ J.G.’s expression was as
grim as his merry face would allow. ‘Don’t think this crazy notion of hers hasn’t
bothered me, but I couldn’t dissuade the girl. She’s hell bent on finding her
brother, whatever the cost, however long it takes. She’s about as malleable as
the Sphinx, and as conversational on the subject.’

‘Then will you give me any published material on
the Victorian diggings for me to send her? Anything emphasising how dangerous
it is there, especially for a woman alone?’

‘Indeed I will. What’s more, there are reports
of a recent riot against the Chinese, who’re much resented by the other diggers
for their industry and just plain foreignness.’

He rummaged in his cabinet, emerging with a
sheaf of papers which he handed to Elly.

She scanned them quickly, frowning in
consternation. ‘My Heavens, this is terrible. The place is a hell-hole – little
food or water, no habitation, no law, and awash with rum. She can’t go there.
It’s impossible.’ She let the papers fall. Stooping, she clutched at the table
for support, then gathering the papers together, she thrust them into her
shopping bag and rose.

J.G. said abruptly, ‘Are you quite well, Elly?
You seem tired.’

‘Thank you. I’m well enough. I’ll send off the
information immediately and hope that for once Pearl will let herself be
influenced by others.’ As she walked out of the building she heard the crash of
machinery starting up. The particular hullabaloo and frenzy of a newspaper
world had begun again.

After visiting the post office, she finished her
shopping then turned wearily for home. The climb back up the hill to Macquarie
Street seemed steeper than ever. She took it slowly, drawing on all her energy.

In the hospital lobby Jo-Beth met her with
excitement.

‘Elly! Elly! Such a wonderful thing has
happened. Oh, how I wish you’d been here.’

Behind Jo-Beth, Dr Houston and two other medical
officers came striding up the corridor, their expressions animated, their
voices raised as each interrupted the other without apology.

Dr Houston stopped to beam at Elly. ‘Matron,
once again you’ve proved yourself to be ahead of us in the matter of patient
care. I congratulate you on your foresight. A new era in surgery has dawned.’

Confused, Elly simply stared after him as he
bustled off in his usual style, with his confreres in tow. She turned to
Jo-Beth. ‘What on earth has happened?’

‘Well, I’d say our revered Board of Directors is
about to go down on its collective knees and beg you to assume the mantle of
Matron in perpetuity. Come up to the office and I’ll tell you all about it.’

Elly took one step then sank down heavily on the
stairs. Her knees had simply given way. She shivered continually, yet was
burning up inside.

‘Elly, what is it? Are you unwell?’ Jo-Beth
rushed to her.

‘I’m all right, I think. Just let me rest here a
moment to catch my breath. That hill is steep. What were you saying about the
Board?’

Jo-Beth eyed her uneasily. ‘It’s about the
operation performed by Doctor Haynes-Alleyne. You know him. He’s the Liverpool
Coroner and highly thought of. And, Elly, he’s amputated a girl’s leg using an
anaesthetic, chloroform! She didn’t feel a thing!’

Elly straightened her weary back. ‘At last!’

‘I know. What’s more, he had the staff surgeons
there, to observe. They were overwhelmed. You’ve been proved right in the face
of their opposition. Ether or chloroform, these inhaled gases will
revolutionise surgery in Australia, and you’re the one who foretold it.’

A tear overflowed onto Elly’s cheek.

‘Elly! You’re not crying?’

‘Don’t worry. It’s mere relief, and joy for all
the souls who will benefit from this day. Doctor Alleyne’s reputation will
force the change.’ She focused beyond Jo-Beth, seeing only a small boy’s face
twisted in agonised terror, thinking how he might have been saved.

‘Of course the Board will apologise to you.’

‘I shouldn’t rely on it. An apology is only
words. I want to see action. Thanks to Doctor Alleyne, and our personal
publicist, J.G., we should get it.’ Elly hunted for her handkerchief to wipe
her cheeks. ‘You don’t know what this means to me.’

Jo-Beth seemed mystified at her reaction. ‘I
should insist upon an apology, myself. However, your status is clearly much
improved. You may even squeeze extra money out of the Board while they’re
amenable.’

Elly shook her head. ‘We’ve barely scaled the
foothills of our medical Everest. Money is only the first of our needs.’

‘It would be a wonderful start, you must admit.
Now, I think you should rest before going back on duty.’

Rest, Elly thought, as she struggled to her
feet. What was that? She could sleep for a hundred years. Her head felt like a
drifting balloon and her feet were made of stone. Jo-Beth’s face seemed to swim
in mist. How strange.

She clutched at the stair rail, hearing her
friend’s voice winding away from her down a long tunnel. ‘Elly! Hold up. I’ve
got you.’

I’m actually ill, she thought. Oh, my Heavens,
what will happen to the hospital now?

The weather had broken and wild storms
raged over the town while Elly tossed and burned with fever and ranged through
her own private tormented world. Nursed devotedly by Jo-Beth, attended
conscientiously by Doctor Houston himself, she sometimes surfaced far enough to
recognise them, but only briefly, before dropping back into her inner existence
where she was no longer concerned with the operation of the hospital or with
anything else beyond her struggle to survive the attack on her exhausted
system.

Only much later did she learn of
The Empire’s
report on the huge surgical breakthrough by Doctor Alleyne, who vainly denied
the novelty of anaesthetics or himself as their inventor. She learned, also, of
the hospital Board’s decision to appoint her in absentia as full Matron, with increased
salary to one hundred pounds per annum, plus voting her a sum of money for the
most urgent repairs and equipment.

‘All of which is about as much use to her now as
a case of stuffed ornithological specimens,’ Paul said savagely. His voice
penetrated the shallow mist of sleep as Elly was emerging into the real world.

Jo-Beth answered him, saying she had an errand
but would soon return, and Elly moved her head on the pillow and opened her
eyes.

‘Hello, Paul.’ She began to cough.

His broad figure stooped over her to slip an arm
under her shoulders and add another pillow. ‘How do you feel, Elly?’

‘Better, thank you.’ Something worried her. What
had he said? Oh, yes. ‘We don’t have any space to display them.’

‘Display what?’ Paul looked anxious. Did he
think her wits had wandered?

‘The ornithological specimens.’

His half-smile dawned and she heard the relief
in his voice. ‘It was just a joke. Do you know this is the first time you’ve
been lucid since you were struck down three weeks ago?’ He drew the one
available chair close to the bed and sat down.

‘Three weeks!’

‘You’ve been extremely ill with a fever. Patients,
friends and well-wishers have stormed Heaven with pleas for your recovery,
which seem to have been heard.’

Elly flushed with pleasure. She tried to raise
her hand to Paul and was astounded to find it so heavy. What had happened to
her muscles?

‘Don’t try to do anything yet. Would you like a
drink?’

She nodded, letting him assist her to sip from a
glass of barley water by the bedside, enjoying his touch as much as the
quenching of her thirst. When she lay back her gaze went to the window, black
and streaming and buffeted by a wild wind. It was as if only chaos existed
outside this tiny peaceful room. An oil lamp stood on the bedside chest, the
glass bowl shedding a soft golden glow, and someone had placed a new knitted
shawl around her shoulders, her favourite blue of the sky at dawn. She fingered
its softness, then glanced back at the window. ‘Is it night-time?’

‘No. It’s not yet four o’clock. The storm has
brought early darkness.’

Darkness! What about the patients? Had the lamps
been lit? She didn’t trust the trainees with the newly-installed gas fittings. She
struggled up, filled with a sudden overwhelming anxiety. ‘The hospital. Who is
in charge? What’s happening in the wards? There’s a bad leak in the roof over
Number Two and –’

Paul pushed her gently back on the pillow. ‘All’s
well in your world, Elly. Jo-Beth is coping, not, perhaps, with much pleasure,
but she knows how to command staff. The place is running like well-oiled
machinery. And the Committee had the leak mended after the first storm.’ He
laughed. ‘You never saw a posse of men so eager to please. They’ve positively
searched out defects to repair, even building a bathroom on the back landing. You’re
regarded as somewhat of an oracle around here now. J.G.’s panegyric in his
paper might have had some bearing on that, plus the consequent public interest.’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘It was tastefully done, I assure you. Also,
Haynes-Alleyn’s admiration and approval of your methods did nothing to detract
from your reputation. How does it feel to be coupled with a celebrated surgeon?’

‘I’m not. Don’t be silly.’ She moved her head
aside.