‘Take the bloody tyre out so I can go again,’ Mel barked at Ted as soon as they pulled up. ‘And I’m not hanging about to help you change it. I gotta head to town . . . now.’
‘Righto.’ Ted unscrewed the bolt and heaved the tyre out. ‘You all right, are ya?’ He rested his huge hands on the window frame and studied Mel’s face. ‘Just that you’re looking a bit ordinary.’
‘Yeah, thanks to you,’ Mel snapped. ‘Could’ve done without being shook up in this bloody old bomb with shot suspension.’
‘Westy’s on his way home, then?’ Ted asked.
‘Who gives?’ Mel replied. ‘I’ll be long gone by the time he gets back.’ She started the engine again. Ted exchanged a concerned glance with Lucy as the two women pulled away.
By the time they arrived back at the buildings, streams of tears were flowing down Mel’s cheeks. Lucy sat miserably beside her. When they pulled up in the shed, she reached over and took Mel’s hand. ‘Mel, please wait for Dennis. I know he’ll drive you to Townsville if he sees you like this. Otherwise, I’m going to take you.’
Mel looked across, her eyes wide with fear. ‘I’m in labour, Lucy.’
Chapter 28
Lucy, trying to stay calm, radioed Ted, telephoned the ambulance, then contacted Star Fields to inform Dennis of his wife’s predicament. Dennis, clearly still hung-over, was jovial when he heard Lucy’s voice, until she delivered the news. Then, after a silence on the end of the phone, his voice cracked when he told her he’d be there as soon as he could.
Ted rushed back to the house and he and Lucy tried to persuade Mel to get into the station wagon, but she refused. ‘I’m not having my waters break all over our good car!’ Deciding it was easier just to humour her, they had helped her into the front of the old dual cab. With Ted driving, they sped out to meet the ambulance, a cloud of dust rising in their wake.
But before they’d even reached the turnoff onto the Ingham road, Mel was in agony, her contractions only minutes apart. She was moaning and gasping by turns, kneeling backwards on the front passenger seat with her body hunched over. Lucy leaned forward from the back seat, trying to reassure her.
‘I think we’re gonna have to stop and try to get you comfortable, Mel,’ Ted said.
Mel lifted her face from where it had been buried in the backrest to turn and glare at the ringer behind the wheel. ‘Comfortable?’ she sneered. ‘You’re a funny bugger, Ted, but I’m just not in the mood . . . you bloody men have no idea about—’
‘Yeah, righto, Mel,’ Ted cut her short. ‘I get your drift—it must be caning. But I reckon this baby’s not waiting for the experts. I’m pulling over. I’ve delivered plenty of calves, can’t be that different.’
‘Holy hell!’ Mel cried. ‘I don’t want you perving on my privates.’
‘Perving, you reckon?’ Ted said, slowing the ute down. ‘To be honest, I’m not exactly falling over myself to see your rear end, but we don’t have a lot of choice—unless Lucy wants to run that end of the show?’
Aghast, Lucy looked from one to the other.
Still driving, Ted scanned the sides of the road for a patch of shade denser than mere dappling. A little further along, two ironbark saplings had kindly combined to make an area of shade just large enough for a resting body. Ted pulled up abruptly beside it, the sudden jolt eliciting a sharp cry from Mel.
Ted and Lucy helped her out of the car, and she stood doubled over in pain while Ted grabbed an oily canvas tarp from under the seat and spread it out in the shade. Lucy arranged a few bunched-up rags as a makeshift pillow and helped Mel to lower herself onto them, while Ted filled a bucket from a small drum of water and added some disinfectant from the branding box in the back of the ute. Lucy’s heart was racing with fear as Mel writhed in agony beside her. She pushed the labouring woman’s hair back out of her face and began to stroke her sweaty forehead, at which Mel took hold of her wrist in a crushing grip. Lucy watched in disbelief as Ted, crouched beside the ute, meticulously washed his hands in the bucket, carefully scraping under his fingernails. It was infuriating.
Suddenly Mel reached down with her free hand and grabbed at the crotch of her jeans. She began to swear loudly.
‘What is it, Mel?’ Lucy asked, trying her best to sound calm.
‘Something’s hanging outta me, that’s all,’ Mel panted.
‘Ted, hurry!’ Lucy called urgently.
He strolled over. ‘You could at least have taken her pants off for me,’ he grumbled. ‘Why do I get all the best jobs?’
‘Sorry.’ Lucy made as if to move.
‘No!’ Mel screamed, tightening her hold on Lucy’s arm.
‘Righto, then,’ Ted said. ‘I’ll have to get into your dacks now, Melissa. You can thank me later.’ He gently lifted Mel’s shirt, then waited for another contraction to pass before unbuttoning her baggy jeans and easing them down. ‘We have a head,’ he observed.
‘Mel, we’re nearly there!’ Lucy cried.
Mel moaned again. She was no longer coherent, lost in a pain-induced trance.
Ted touched the protrusion. ‘False alarm. It’s only a bag of waters.’
‘Don’t tell me that!’ Mel screamed, suddenly alert again. ‘I want it out! Get it out of me!’
‘It’s all right, Mel!’ Lucy said. ‘You’re doing so well! Brave girl!’
‘All in good time, Mel,’ Ted added, bending closer and examining the membrane.
‘I don’t want this baby!’ Mel moaned. ‘I never wanted it!’
‘Bit late for that now, mate,’ Ted muttered as he poked the protrusion with his finger.
‘I hate your guts, Ted,’ Mel panted. ‘You and your bloody hard-luck face. You and Westy both. Soon as I’m able, I’ll make an appointment for him, and the doctor can run him up the crush.’
Ted’s features twitched with the hint of a grin. He looked at Lucy. ‘Just like trying to help a snaky old cow that’s got into strife calving. They never thank you for your trouble, either. Just do their best to kill you instead.’
‘Mel’s not a cow!’ Lucy objected.
‘Bloody hell, Lucy.’ Mel squeezed out the words through gritted teeth. ‘Do you have to be so bloody nice all the time? So damn polite! If you could just call me a bitch once in a while I wouldn’t have to be so hard on y—’
Mel’s tirade was abruptly halted by another contraction. Ted took out his pocket knife, dipped it in the bucket, just as if he were about to castrate a calf, then made a tiny slit in the tight bulge of the embryonic sac. He was instantly drenched by a fast spray of amniotic fluid.
‘Thanks for that, Melissa.’ He pulled a hanky out of his pocket and wiped his face. But Mel wasn’t listening. Another powerful contraction gripped her, and it looked to Lucy as though every muscle in her body was taut. Her eyes glazed over and the veins in her neck bulged as she let out a strangled, guttural cry.
Lucy began to panic inwardly. ‘Please help, Lotte!’ Without meaning to, she’d spoken the words out loud.
Mel stopped moaning and opened her eyes for a moment to stare at her before the next wave of pain hit and extinguished her awareness of anything else. Lucy felt embarrassed and glanced at Ted to see if he’d heard her comment too. He met her glance but only winked.
‘Now we have a head.’ Ted’s tone was triumphant. ‘Or the top of one, at any rate.’
‘Are you sure?’ croaked Mel.
‘It’s got some fuzz on it, anyway,’ Ted added.
‘Here we go again!’ screeched Mel. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pushed hard with the contraction. Lucy leaned around beside Mel’s leg and could just see the crown of a tiny head.
‘Is the bloody thing coming out yet?’ Mel panted. ‘Lucy—help me! It hurts so much. I can’t do this anymore.’
Lucy was crying now too. She kissed Mel’s forehead and continued to stroke her dishevelled hair.
‘You’re a trooper, Mel,’ Ted conceded quietly. ‘The head’s more than half out.’ He glanced at Lucy again, asking for he
r complicity in the white lie.
‘Oh, thank Christ!’ Mel gasped.
‘One more push should do it,’ he went on with certainty. ‘You should have a breather, Mel, before the next contraction.’
‘How the bloody hell would you know?’ Mel shrieked.
‘Save your energy, old girl. Here it comes.’
With a huge heave from Mel and another flood of fluid, the baby’s head was finally out. Mel’s tortured scream rent the peaceful bush. The blood vessels in her neck bulged again and her fingernails dug deeper into Lucy’s arm.
‘Now we’re cooking with gas,’ Ted said quietly.
The next moment, in a sudden slippery rush, the baby corkscrewed its way into the world and into the waiting cradle of Ted’s huge steady hands.
‘Why isn’t it crying?’ Mel whispered, her voice trembling with exhaustion.
Lucy stretched around to look, her arm still trapped in Mel’s vice-like fingers. ‘It’s a boy!’ she yelled.
Mel groaned. Ted manipulated the limp baby in his grasp.
There was still no sound.
‘Here Lucy,’ Ted looked up, ‘chuck me a rag, this one’s too messed up.’
‘Is it dead?’ Mel whispered.
‘Little fella just wants a bit of a tickle up,’ Ted said hurriedly.
After passing him a clean rag, Lucy sat watching, petrified, as Ted carefully balanced the shiny, purplish form along his arm. Tilting the head back, he used the tip of one of his thick calloused fingers to scoop some membrane-like muck out of the tiny mouth. Then, quickly taking up the rag, he began to rub the baby firmly all over. Moments later a catlike warble broke the silence; then the baby took in a huge breath and began to scream in earnest. His bluish skin was instantly flooded with fresh pinkness and he began to squirm. At the sound, Mel pushed herself up onto her elbows, and issued a sigh of relief.
Ted grinned at her from ear to ear and held out the baby to Lucy. ‘Here you go.’ He chuckled in sudden delight. ‘You can take over from here.’
Lucy hesitantly took the warm, moist little body. She tried to wrap him more securely in the rag, but his arms and legs seemed to be everywhere and the umbilical cord was still connected to Mel. He continued to scream lustily, and Lucy marvelled at the volume of sound being produced by such a diminutive creature. She looked at Mel, and noticed with concern that she was grimacing with pain again.
Lucy’s fear returned as she watched Ted walk away, but he searched for something in the back of the ute and came back moments later holding a cable tie. He sterilised his knife again and constricted the umbilical cord tightly with the plastic zip tie. Next he looped the cord and pulled it back and forth along the blade; despite the knife’s lethal sharpness, it took several passes to sever the springy, sinewy tissue.
‘How can I stop him crying?’ asked Lucy, looking down helplessly.
‘Only one thing’ll do that,’ Ted replied. ‘He wants a feed!’
‘Right! Of course.’ Lucy moved in closer to Mel. The baby temporarily paused in his wailing, but he was squirming and wrinkling up his already squashed little features and Lucy could see he was working himself up for another bout of screaming.
‘Mel, do you think you can—’ Lucy began.
‘Just what I need,’ groaned Mel. ‘Another bloody male in my life.’
‘Mel, Ted thinks he’s hungry. Can you—’
‘Yeah, I know what he wants. Same thing they all want, isn’t it?’ She moaned and lay back again.
‘I don’t want yours, Mel, if that’s any comfort to you,’ Ted muttered as he gently eased out the placenta. ‘All out. In one piece, by the look of it.’ He examined the large veiny mass. ‘Will need to keep this to show the ambos.’
‘How do you know so bloody much about birthing babies?’ Mel eyed Ted suspiciously.
He grinned. ‘I’ll ask them for it back, though,’ he said wickedly, without answering Mel’s question. ‘Then we can plant a tree on it. Right here to mark the spot.’
‘You’re sick, you are.’ Mel was trying to sit up again, and Lucy looked anxiously from one to the other, then back at the baby wailing in her arms.
Ted went back to the ute and returned with a full sack of loose mineral lick under each arm. He shoved Mel gently into a slumped sitting position with one large boot between her shoulder blades and slid the bags into place behind her. She leaned back gratefully.
‘C’mon, Mel,’ Lucy coaxed. ‘This little man needs you.’ She held out the baby. His noise had subsided again to a disgruntled whimper. He was still squirming around, burrowing hopefully into Lucy’s arm in search of sustenance.
‘Well, I don’t need him.’ Avoiding looking at her baby, Mel gazed pleadingly into Lucy’s eyes. ‘Lucy, you heartless bitch. You’re not gonna make me feed the little parasite right now, are you? I’m buggered.’
Without a word, Lucy placed the tiny bundle in Mel’s lap; lifting the exhausted woman’s shirt a little, she helped the baby find its way to a nipple. After nuzzling about for a few moments, he latched on and sucked strongly. He reminded Lucy of a small hairless marsupial of some kind. So pink and helpless.
Ted nodded with approval. ‘He’s a survivor, that one.’
‘They’ve all been strong suckers,’ Mel said wanly, her eyes resting on the baby for the first time and tears beginning to course rapidly down her cheeks.
Nobody spoke then for several minutes. Although they’d only just met, mother and baby looked as though they’d been together since the beginning of time. Lucy watched in awe and found she was shaking, struck by the sacredness of the moment. She glanced towards Ted, and saw with a flash of alarm that he was frowning in concern. Looking down, she saw the slowly growing pool of blood on the tarp. Ted quietly removed his shirt and used it to attempt to stem the flow. Just then, they both heard the distant drone of the approaching ambulance and exchanged a wordless look of relief.
‘Our job’s done.’ Ted told Lucy. ‘You didn’t do too bad, either.’ His voice and smile were full of warmth.
‘You were okay too, Doctor Ted,’ Lucy said softly, returning his smile, her eyes watery. She blinked and continued in a stronger voice. ‘You’re not doing such a good job at passing yourself off as a “dumb ringer”, though. Is there anything you can’t do?’
‘I only know enough to know that I don’t know much at all.’ Ted looked away.
‘That’s what all the great philosophers say.’
‘Holy hell, no need to start name-calling.’ Ted grinned crookedly, then squinted towards the ambulance, which could now be seen rushing towards them, dust billowing behind it. ‘Here comes your lift, Mel.’
‘About bloody time,’ Mel said. ‘Enjoy your feed, little fella. I reckon as soon as I can get my hands on a bottle and some formula, that’ll be it. These tits are too old for all this again.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Ted said sceptically. ‘Weren’t you still feeding the twins when I started at Charlotte’s Creek? They were going on two then.’ He laughed and looked at Lucy. ‘Old cows make the best milkers.’ He stood up and stepped into the road to flag down the ambulance.
‘You mean you breastfed the twins?’ Lucy asked.
‘Yeah, and it cured me of ever wanting to do it again.’
‘But that’s amazing, Mel!’
In spite of Mel’s pallor and evident ongoing pain, as she looked down again at her new son her face was flooded with an inexplicable pride and overwhelming joy. Glancing up, she met Lucy’s gaze. ‘Just the hormones,’ she explained. ‘I’ll feel like crap again shortly.’
The ambulance slowed and came to a stop beside the small gathering under the saplings. Lucy began to get to her feet when Mel gripped her arm again. ‘Oi, Lucy. You name him, will you? Before I have to go?’
‘Me? Oh Mel, I can’t. He’s your baby! And what about Dennis? Anyway, I’m coming with you in the ambulance.’
The two paramedics had climbed out, a man and a woman. After glancing at Mel and exchanging a quiet word with the b
are-chested Ted, they began unloading a stretcher from the back.
‘I’d feel much happier if you were there for the kids when they get back,’ Mel said. ‘They’ll be worried, and Den’ll be going off his head by now.’
Lucy looked into Mel’s eyes and nodded.
‘So please,’ Mel continued, ‘would you name this little bloke? Den won’t care. I just feel like . . . this baby might have something going for him if you name him. Anyway, I’m too tired to think of any more bloody names.’ She glanced at the paramedics. ‘Quick. They’re coming.’
‘Um . . . wow. What about Henry?’
‘Henry? Not after that bloody poet that made me blubber?’
‘No, not really. It’s the name of the son of . . . a woman I know. He’ll be well looked after with that name.’
‘Not by me, at any rate,’ Mel said, unconvincingly. ‘Righto. Henry’ll do.’ She looked down at the baby in her arms. ‘She’s a crackpot, your governess. Just hope she sticks around long enough for you to know her.’
In the ensuing flurry of activity, Lucy stood back in a daze. The paramedics quickly took charge, efficiently lifting Mel onto the stretcher and stowing her in the ambulance. Lucy stayed where she was, watching Ted talking to the uniformed pair.
They went to close the doors, then paused and beckoned to Lucy. She trotted over. Mel lay snugly tucked under an impossibly white sheet and blanket, her grey face earnestly seeking Lucy’s. She raised her head from the pillow. ‘Love ya, Lucy,’ she mouthed above the whirring of the engine. Then she flopped back and shut her eyes.
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