Fool's Gold

by Fleur McDonald

  ‘What did you do?’ Melinda asked, finding a chair and sitting down.

  ‘First thing was to get rid of the grandmother. She wasn’t being at all helpful. I think the mothers and mothers-in-law often forget how frightening it can be to be a new mum, and when they keep telling them what to do or that they’re doing something wrong, it makes the mums anxious.

  ‘The grandmothers are all bravado and full of advice, which,’ she turned and looked at Melinda with her eyebrows raised, ‘I must say, is not always the best guidance. We’ve moved on from thirty years ago. And, as much as they’re trying to help their daughters, they’re not always the best person for the job.’

  ‘Sounds like it can be tricky.’ Melinda felt a tremor of uncertainty run through her. She was used to following protocols or instruction from doctors. From what Patti was saying, in this role she would be expected to trust her own instincts and make her own decisions.

  Her thoughts must have shown on her face because Patti turned from the filing cabinet and said, ‘Oh now, don’t you be worrying about what I’m saying. If you get stuck or aren’t sure of anything—any tiny little thing—you come and get me and I’ll check the mum or bub out. In fact,’ she handed over the employment forms that needed filling out, ‘if you like, I’ll sit in on the first few appointments. Would that make you more comfortable?’

  ‘That would be great,’ Melinda said, relief filling her.

  ‘Hello,’ Melinda greeted her first client in the waiting room. ‘You must be Rachael.’ She flashed a large and what she hoped was a comforting smile at the new mum. ‘And who do we have here?’

  Melinda peered into the pram to see a tiny baby dressed in a pink sleeveless jumpsuit staring at a moving toy, her arms and legs flailing about gently. When Melinda popped her head into view, the baby took her eyes off the toy and cooed at her.

  The young woman stood up quickly and smiled. ‘Yeah, hi, I’m Rachael. This is Taylor.’ She grabbed hold of the handles and started to push the pram towards the weighing room.

  Clearly she’d been here a few times before. Melinda waited until the two were inside her new office, which was decorated with bright colours and mobiles hanging from the ceiling.

  ‘It’s nice to meet you, Rachael,’ Melinda said, sitting down at her desk. She took Taylor’s baby book from Rachael and flicked it open to the recording page. ‘How have you been?’ Looking up, she focused on the woman, who looked tired but was smiling.

  ‘I’ve had a great month,’ she said. ‘Taylor is beginning to roll from side to side and she even slept through for the first time last night.’

  ‘Well, aren’t you a clever girl!’ Melinda said to Taylor. She reached down and held out her finger for the baby to grip hold of and refocused on Rachael as Patti had instructed—these sessions were as much about checking in with the mothers as they were about assessing the babies.

  Having offered to sit in on Melinda’s first few appointments, Patti had been called away to help her elderly mother, who had had a fall. Melinda was on her own.

  ‘Don’t show fear,’ had been Patti’s parting advice. ‘New mums are like horses—they can smell fear a mile off. Act confident and sure of yourself. If you have any problems or think something is wrong, ask them to make another appointment for next week.’ She’d smiled. ‘You’ll be fine. You’re a paediatric nurse, so you know all of this. It’s just a matter of applying it in a different context, okay?’

  ‘How is Taylor sleeping generally?’ Melinda asked in her most professional tone.

  ‘Okay. I mean, she still wakes up three or four times a night mostly. Last night was out of the ordinary and…’ She stopped as her eyes filled with tears. ‘I had a bit of a freak-out this morning when I first woke up and realised she hadn’t woken.’

  Melinda understood. ‘You thought the worst? That’s perfectly normal.’

  ‘Yeah, I did. Stupid of me. She was still asleep, breathing away just fine. Then I felt bloody ridiculous.’ Rachael brushed her tears away and smiled again. ‘Crazy, huh?’

  ‘Not at all. It would’ve given you a fright. However, you can probably expect she’ll do this from time to time now. In fact, with any luck, she’ll do it every night from now on and last night wasn’t a once-off! How old is she again? Seven weeks?’ Melinda glanced down at the book to check.

  ‘Eight,’ the new mum answered.

  ‘A lot of babies can have a night here and there of sleeping through at her age.’ She paused. ‘But all babies are different.’ She focused on Rachael. ‘What about you? How are you feeling?’ She picked Taylor up out of the pram and held her over her shoulder.

  Rachael sniffed. ‘Mostly I’m okay. Just sometimes when I get a fright or she doesn’t feed easily, I get a bit teary. It’s not often, just…’ She broke off and it seemed to Melinda she was unable to finish because she was working overtime not to cry.

  ‘That’s common too, you know. Having a new bub is a big change for everyone and these little cherubs don’t come with a manual.’

  Rachael seemed to gather herself. ‘It was just the fright I had this morning.’

  ‘Crying is healthy,’ Melinda reassured her. ‘As long as you don’t do it all day, every day.’

  ‘Marty is such a help too,’ Rachael said. ‘He baths her and changes nappies when he’s home. I really don’t have anything to complain about. Do you know, my friend,’ she seemed to brighten, ‘she had her baby two weeks ago and her hubby hasn’t changed a nappy yet!’

  ‘He might need some practice,’ Melinda said dryly, happy to see Rachael was recovering herself so quickly. She made a mental note to ask about this again at the next appointment, but she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary here.

  ‘Right, maybe you could undress Taylor and we’ll pop her on the scales.’ Melinda gave her another big smile and handed the baby to her mum.

  ‘How’s your husband coping with the new routine?’

  ‘I think he’s getting used to it. It’s a bit tough when he’s on night shift and needs to sleep during the day. I try to make sure she doesn’t cry very much then, so she doesn’t wake him. If she’s unsettled I put her in the pram and take her for a walk. Makes it easier to sleep when it’s quiet.’

  ‘Sleeping during the day is hard work,’ Melinda said. ‘Even when you’re used to it.’

  ‘Yeah, Marty said as much, but every time I go past the bedroom door I hear him snoring, so she can’t be keeping him awake all the time!’ she laughed.

  ‘I know when I was working night shift at the hospital, I’d sleep like the dead for the first few hours after I got home, but then noises would wake me quite easily.’

  Taylor started to cry as her jumpsuit was taken off. Melinda watched as Rachael expertly removed her nappy and popped her onto the scales.

  ‘Have you got any concerns about Taylor at all?’ Melinda asked while she waited for the scales to freeze on the weight. ‘Ah look, there we are. Four point six kilos—a gain of about six hundred grams. Very nice.’

  ‘Oh, that’s great! I always feel it’s a bit like a test coming in here—you know, how good I’m doing as a mum. As soon as I know she’s put on weight, I relax!’

  ‘I hope I’m not as scary as a test. That wouldn’t be cool!’ Melinda flashed a large grin and repeated her previous question.

  ‘No, no concerns.’

  ‘How’s everything for you since the birth? No pain or discharge?’ She started to work her way through the list of questions that Patti had left for her.

  Within another ten minutes she had everything wrapped up and she was showing Rachael out of the door.

  A feeling of triumph surged through her. She’d got through her first appointment as a child health nurse and she’d nailed it!

  Chapter 15

  1945

  The man finished burying the woman’s body and placed his shovel in the back of his old car. He wiped the sweat from his brow and took a long swig from his water bag, then started the engine.

 
; Following the rough track towards Barrabine, he kept an eye out for any humpies in the bush, somewhere the woman could have lived. Every mile or so he stopped and sniffed for campfire smoke, but he didn’t come across anything that gave him any indication of life.

  The road got smoother closer to the town, and just as the sun was setting he parked in front of one of the three pubs and turned off the engine, sitting there in silence. He kept wondering who the woman was and why life had got on top of her to the point she thought death was the easier option. He couldn’t get the image of her body swaying from the tree branch out of his mind and he was finding it hard to concentrate on what he was doing.

  He rubbed his face hard, as if trying to scrub away the memory.

  Gathering himself, he sniffed at his hands to make sure they didn’t smell and walked into the pub. He looked around to see if there was anyone he knew at the bar, but he didn’t expect there to be. Barrabine was a transient community; people came and went on the whim of gold fever. And they died easily here too.

  He heard his name called out and turned around.

  ‘Paddy, how yer goin’, mate?’ A man with curly red hair came over to him, his hand outstretched. ‘Let me buy you a beer.’

  ‘G’day, Rocco. Didn’t expect to be seeing you here. Where was the last time I saw you? About fifty miles north, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Last night here, mate,’ Rocco answered, looking sad. ‘The missus is crook and I got to get her to Perth, so the doc says. Don’t want to leave, I love this place, but she can’t cope without me.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that,’ Paddy answered, his thoughts immediately flying back to the woman he’d buried today. If she’d had family who had cared for her as much as Rocco cared for his wife, maybe she wouldn’t have died the way she did.

  ‘Yeah, even sold me lease. Don’t reckon I’ll be back.’ His face was grim and Paddy could see it was hurting him to leave.

  ‘Hard decision to make. Don’t envy you having to live in the city. Full of bloody cars and people walking too fast.’

  Rocco looked at him solemnly. ‘I hope it don’t kill me up there.’

  Paddy patted him on the back. ‘You’ll be right, mate. Be settled in no time. First find yourself a local watering hole and then everything’ll fall into place.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right. Anyway, what’s your news?’

  ‘Not much. On my way to the Ballarat goldfields. Hoping for better luck over there. Now tell me, do you know of anyone living about twenty miles out to the north-west of here?’ Paddy asked him as they moved towards the bar. He took a roll of notes out of his pocket and peeled one off.

  Rocco took in the roll and whistled softly. ‘You have a win somewhere?’

  ‘I bloody wish! Doesn’t matter how hard I look, I don’t seem to be able to find any of the yellow stuff. Beer, please, love,’ he said, turning his attention to the barmaid. ‘And one for my mate here.’ He turned back to Rocco. ‘Nah, I sold some of my gear so I could get across to Victoria and have a crack over there. My grandfather left me a lease and I thought I’d have a go at that.’

  ‘Victoria, hey? I met a bloke from there the other day. Said there’s still lots in the ground, so you might be lucky.’ Rocco clapped him on back. ‘Why you asking about people living out north-west?’

  ‘Had to bury a woman today.’ As he said the words, she flashed in front of him again. The slow gentle sway, the crow on her shoulder. The ants. He took a long pull on his beer to wash away the vision. ‘Want to find her family and let them know where she is.’

  ‘Shit, really?’ Rocco’s face became sad. ‘Snakebite or something?’

  ‘Or something. She was hanging in a tree.’

  ‘Holy Mother of Mary. She killed herself?’

  ‘Looked like it.’

  Rocco crossed himself, shock clear on his face. Paddy appreciated that—not because he wanted Rocco to be upset but because it showed he hadn’t become immune to the fragility of life. When men failed to react to shocking stories, that’s when the harshness of the goldfields had claimed their humanity.

  Death was commonplace out here and everyone knew it. Look at the man who’d been killed last month—a mine had collapsed on him and by the time the blokes from nearby mines had managed to get him up, he’d suffocated. Then there was the child who’d cut himself on a piece of tin and died from blood poisoning, and the woman who’d died in childbirth. It was harsh and tough and really, Paddy thought, nothing should surprise anyone, but they should always feel the tragedy of it.

  ‘You know of anyone out there?’ he asked again.

  ‘Nope. Didn’t think there were any leases pegged out that way yet. I know there’s been some fellas exploring, but…’ He trailed off. ‘If you go and ask at the mines office, they’ll be able to tell you if anything’s been pegged and who the owners are.’

  ‘I might do that. Thanks, Rocco. I’d want to know where she was if she were my family. They mightn’t even know she’s gone.’

  Rocco brightened as another man gave him a secret nod. ‘You want to have a bit of fun tonight?’ he asked, lowering his voice.

  Paddy wiped the condensation from his glass of beer. ‘What’d you have in mind?’ he asked, thinking of the roll in his pocket.

  ‘Just a little gambling. Away from prying eyes.’

  Paddy raised his glass to him. ‘Here I was thinking you meant the ladies!’

  ‘Well, you could do that if you want, you being single ’n all, but two-up’s more exciting as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘Pulling your leg, Rocco. Ladies of the night don’t interest me. I’m in. Always happy for a bit of fun.’ Maybe a night with the boys would help him forget.

  About four miles from the centre of town, the group of seven squatted down under the drooping branches of a coral gum. The ring was drawn with a stick. Then a bottle of rum was passed around in the firelight. They drew straws for the first spinner. It was Paddy. It didn’t bother him that he wasn’t going to be able to bet at the start. They would all get their turn eventually.

  ‘Who’s got the kip and coins?’ he asked, looking around the group—he realised out of all the men there, he knew only Rocco. Two he knew by sight, but the rest were strangers. Apprehension trickled through him—he hoped they were all as trustworthy as Rocco. Why hadn’t he checked before they’d left town? Probably because he was too busy trying to forget the woman.

  The crazy idea of giving her a name popped into his head. He couldn’t keep thinking about her as ‘the woman’. She was somebody’s daughter. Maybe someone’s sister, wife or mother. She would have a family somewhere. Everyone did.

  Rocco passed over the piece of wood and Paddy took it, glad of the distraction. He inspected it; it was about seven inches long, worn smooth at one end and with impressions for the pennies to sit in at the other.

  ‘Looks like you’ve used this a bit, Rocco,’ he said with a grin, indicating the smooth handle.

  ‘Who me? I’m a law-abiding citizen,’ he answered, returning the grin.

  Everyone knew that two-up was illegal—gambling was illegal—but it didn’t stop them. For some, the need to have a wager burned in their bellies like the fever to find gold. Paddy remembered one man he’d shared a campsite with who’d been like that. He recognised his own addiction and tried to sabotage his gambling urges by putting his savings into a box that couldn’t be opened unless it was cut open by a blacksmith. This worked well until he ran out of the allowance he’d given himself for betting. Then he’d run around like a man possessed, trying to convince someone to open it for him.

  ‘Mate,’ Paddy said, turning to one of the other men, ‘you be my ringy and boxer.’ He polished the two coins and placed them in the tray.

  Another of the men looked up from the swig he was taking and frowned. ‘They can’t be the same person,’ he said.

  The boxer was supposed to oversee the game and wasn’t allowed to participate. He had to be neutral, while the ringy looked after the coins in b
etween throws to avoid interference.

  ‘No rule that says that,’ Rocco answered.

  ‘It goes without saying.’

  ‘Come on, we’re all men of honour here,’ Rocco said, spreading out his hands. ‘It’s a game to celebrate my farewell. I don’t wanna get bogged down in rules. Let’s just play.’

  The men glanced around at one another and Paddy decided to take the lead. ‘Place your bets, gentlemen, and may your night be lucky.’

  The men threw their money into the hat and watched in silence. Paddy tossed the coins high, firelight glinting onto copper-coloured pennies. In silence, everyone followed their path, watching them twirl in slow motion. They started their downward spiral, still spinning, and landed on the soft earth with a gentle ‘thwack’.

  ‘Odds!’ yelled Paddy and loud chatter and groans broke out between all the men. One man threw up his hands in excitement and grabbed the hat full of coins.

  ‘Next bets,’ Paddy called again after the ringy had collected the pennies and given them back to him.

  It went on like this until the rum bottle was empty and the men were falling asleep at the edge of the ring.

  ‘I’m out,’ slurred Rocco.

  ‘Me too,’ said Paddy, sitting down and pulling another smaller bottle out of his pocket. He offered it around to the men, but only he and Rocco took sips. The others faded away to their swags.

  Paddy leaned against the trunk of the tree and looked up into the night sky. A shooting star streaked across the diamond-studded blackness. He remembered his mother saying he should make a wish when he saw a shooting star.

  What to wish for, he thought. His mind was muddy from all the rum. He could wish for fortune when he got to Victoria, for a long reef of gold that would make him rich. He could wish for the comfort of a woman, one who loved him and was prepared to live with him on the goldfields. Or he could wish to find the family of the woman he had buried today.