Walking to the Stars (7 page)

That was how the game went: whistle, bounce, a minute or two of play, a goal, much shouting, and it wasn't until Samuel spotted the kids clambering around the scoreboard, moving numbers around, that it occurred to him to ask Girdagan, “Who are Jerramungup playing?"

"Ongerup,” Girdagan said. “Good fellows, Ongerup. That kid there, with the ball, he's my brother, Jakey."

It made sense, all of a sudden, why everyone was cheering for both sides, if siblings were spread across the teams. Membership to a team probably had more to do with which side was short of players than where your farm or camp was.

During the first break between the quarters, Samuel made his way down to where Nick was sewing up one of the Ongerup player's foreheads while the player sat uncomplainingly on the grass.

Josh was grinning when he came over to Samuel and slapped him on his back, despite the black eye and graze he sported. “You enjoying this? Do you like the game?” he asked Samuel eagerly.

"It's fantastic,” Samuel said truthfully. “I had no idea football could be like this."

"It's a good game. You should hang around until summer, see how we play cricket, too,” Josh said, and Samuel's eyes widened. This bunch of blood-thirsty lunatics armed with cricket bats, jumping on each other to see who could catch the ball?

"Might do that,” Samuel said. “Might play myself once my leg's mended."

"Wonderful!” Josh said, and he turned around and shouted, “Hey, blokes, Samuel here is gonna play for us when his leg's better!"

A hoarse cheer rang out from the other players, on both sides, and Samuel found himself beaming.

Nick sat down beside Samuel once play started again, and he didn't say anything, but it seemed to Samuel that he looked happy.

The banging on the door woke Nick, and he dragged on a pair of trousers and a jumper and went to open the front door, grumbling, “Coming, coming,” to whoever was pounding on the wood.

It was pitch black outside, no moonlight, and it wasn't until the person spoke that Nick worked out who it was.

"It's Girdagan's baby, Dr. Nick,” Talgerit said. “She's been having pains since dinner."

"Come in,” Nick said, holding the door open. “Come and stand by the fire, and I'll go get the van started."

In the kitchen, Nick lit a candle from the embers in the fireplace, and Talgerit knelt down in front of the fire to rest fragments of wood across it, then blew on them with a lifetime's practice.

"How is she?” Nick asked while he pulled his boots on.

"She's suffering,” Talgerit said. “The baby wants to come."

Nick nodded and picked up the ash bucket and the small shovel from beside the fire. Talgerit must have driven there in a car, but he'd need his van with him, just in case he needed to move Girdagan before she delivered. No way was he sitting in the back of a sedan with a heavily pregnant woman, using one hand to keep a baby's shoulder off the cord. If that was going to happen, it was happening in the back of the van, where he had some head room.

And he scrubbed the van out often enough that he could do a cesarean in it if he absolutely had to.

Both he and Talgerit looked up from the fire, at a sound at the doorway. Samuel was standing there, bedraggled in rumpled clothes. “Need me to come with you?” Samuel asked. “In case you need something?"

Nick couldn't actually think what Samuel could help him with, off hand, but this was the man who had gotten the bore working at the camp, so who knew what sort of miracles he could work?

"Yes,” Nick said. “Thanks."

"It's cold,” Talgerit said. “The moon'll come out later, and there'll be a frost tonight."

Samuel nodded, and when Nick came back from loading the bucket of embers into the burner on the back of the van, Samuel was standing bundled up in all the clothes he'd had on earlier, packing the generator parts into his tool box.

"Ready?” Nick asked, and Samuel nodded.

They drove out to the camp in silence, Samuel in the front beside Nick, Talgerit hanging over the seats from the back of the van, and when the guardian rock finally loomed up through the darkness, Talgerit said, “Just drive on through, they're expecting us."

At the camp, Nick left Samuel sliding out of the van, grabbed his medical kit from the back and ducked into the humpy where firelight spilled out from under a blanket draped across the entrance.

Girdagan was on all fours, grunting while one of the older women, Lilli, rubbed her back. The humpy was warm, with a fire near the back wall, and another firepit, that had been allowed to go out, in the middle.

"How are you feeling?” Nick asked Girdagan, kneeling down beside her, stethoscope in his hands.

She grimaced and Lilli wiped the sweat from her face. “Hurts, Dr. Nick,” Girdagan gasped.

"I'm going to check the baby's heart,” Nick said, and he ran a hand over her belly, then pressed the stethoscope against the ridge of the baby's back.

"Baby's in a good position,” he said a moment later. “And its heart is strong and fast. Now, this will hurt a bit."

He took his coat off and pushed his jumper sleeves up, then felt down low on Girdagan's belly, in around the pubic bone. Only an idiot would check dilation internally in a shack with a mud floor, and Nick wasn't an idiot, so he waited for the contraction to ease, then pushed hard, sliding fingers across the curve of the baby's head, through the front of Girdagan's abdomen.

There, about two thirds of the way down the curve, was the ridge of flesh that was the cervix. Girdagan was about seven centimetres dilated, and was leaking copious amounts of amniotic fluid, pale yellow and smelling of new life.

Girdagan groaned, and the next contraction began, and Nick took his hand away before either Lilli or Girdagan hit him.

"That's really good,” he said. “Not too much longer, and it'll be time to start pushing.” Talgerit was right, the baby wanted to be born.

The cold crept in around the blanket, and Girdagan's moans and grunts became louder, but she and the baby were coping well, so Nick left the morphine injection in his bag.

Ed and the other elders looked in then disappeared, and the baby's heart rate stayed fast, only dipping slightly with a contraction, coming up again quickly afterwards. Birthing was not a community event, so Girdagan had no audience.

When the ridge of flesh was halfway down the baby's skull, to its ears, Nick and Lilli helped Girdagan move so she was squatting over the ashes of the extinguished fire. Nick poured alcohol from a big bottle over his hands and Lilli's, and rubbed a cloth soaked in alcohol over Girdagan's hands, too.

Between the alcohol and the sterile ashes, the baby would have a clean entrance to the world.

Lilli held Girdagan from behind, arms wrapped securely around her chest, and each contraction and push brought the baby closer and closer. When it crowned, Nick was vaguely aware of a generator chugging away briefly in the background.

He guided Girdagan's hands down to her baby's head, and she smiled at him, eyes wide, mouth falling open with delight. It did the trick, making her let go of her pelvic floor, and the baby's head eased out, supported by both Girdagan's and Nick's hands.

Quick slide of fingers around the baby's shoulder, to make sure the cord wasn't trapped, and Nick said, “Push now, Girdagan."

She did, and the baby slithered out, slippery and limp. Nick cleared the baby's mouth and nose quickly, using a small suction bulb. The baby cried, sharp and high and thin in the cold night air.

Nick had brought a clean cut-up blanket with him, and he wrapped the baby quickly, mess and ash and blood, then, when the cord had stopped pulsing, he clamped it and handed the scissors to Girdagan.

Two minutes old, and the baby was cradled safely in Girdagan's arms, nuzzling at her breast, breathing well, and Nick said, “Congratulations, Girdagan, on your baby girl."

Medical protocol was to check for tears, but the birth had been so controlled and gentle, and the humpy was so dirty, that Nick just couldn't justify it.

Faces appeared at the blanket, letting in the cold air, curious and delighted, and Lilli shooed them away with a couple of growls while she coaxed the baby to attach to the breast.

It took a while for the placenta to deliver, but Girdagan was losing only a little blood, so Nick didn't use an oxytocin injection.

He stayed for an hour, until Girdagan and the new baby were both curled up in front of the fire dozing, then he took Lilli aside, out of the humpy into the stingingly cold air.

A trough was set-up under the tank outlet now, but Nick opted for washing his hands in the water he carried in the back of the van. Lilli washed her hands too, and Nick said, “I'll be back tomorrow, to check on the baby. Make sure that nothing dirty gets near the baby or Girdagan, and keep the dogs out of the humpy."

He watched Lilli make her way tiredly back to the humpy. The baby would probably survive; she was a good size and breathing easily, her chances were good.

The sky was lightening, it was almost morning, and Samuel was nowhere to be seen.

The generator shed seemed the likeliest place, and when Nick peered in, Samuel had bits spread across the ground and was working by the light of an oil lamp with a smoky wick.

He looked up as Nick squatted down beside him. “I heard the baby crying,” Samuel said, and he sounded choked up. “Is it all right?"

"Mother and daughter are both safely asleep now,” Nick said, and he curled his hand around Samuel's shoulder. “Ready to go home for a few hours, at least until I have to come back to check on mother and baby?"

Nick had to help Samuel stand up, without else anything for him to pull himself up on in the shack, and certainly the shack wouldn't take his weight. They had a strange, sleep-deprived moment when Samuel paused, his weight still leaning against Nick, then he stepped back, steadying himself with his crutches, and it passed.

Talgerit was asleep, curled up with one of the dogs, when Nick found him, so Nick left him there; Talgerit could come back with them later on and collect his car then. Right now, Nick just wanted to go somewhere warm.

Josh was awake when they got home, stirring porridge and frying up leftover hogget, slabs of bread waiting on a plate on the table. It was a blessed relief to sit down at the table, in daylight, and watch Josh spoon porridge into bowls for the three of them.

"Thanks for cooking enough for all of us,” Nick said, when Josh pushed a mug of tea across the table to Nick.

"No problem,” Josh said. “I didn't actually, I was just feeling hungry after the game yesterday. I'll make myself another batch in a moment. Why is Talgerit's heap beside the shed?"

"It's not a heap,” Samuel said, proving that he wasn't actually asleep and shoveling porridge and jam into himself at the same time. “It's actually a 1982 Mercedes 300 D, with a long block. It's a magnificent piece of machinery, the ultimate precision engineered car, which is presumably why, decades later, it's still running, despite being asked to burn whatever Talgerit can get his hands on."

Josh stared at Samuel. “That's precision engineered? I heard it pull up during the night, and it sounded appalling, like a boyee was rumbling through the yard."

"I'll have a look when I've had some sleep,” Samuel said. “Reckon that I can get rid of the banging at least. Of course, he's probably running it on mutton fat, and there's not much I can do about that."

"Good luck,” Josh said. “I'm going to take the sheep from the shed back to the wide paddock, get them some decent feed."

"Oats?” Nick asked around a mouthful of porridge. “Seeding today?"

"Next week,” Josh said authoritatively. “We need some more rain, and I want the soil to warm up a little from the hail before I put anything else in. Your garden's ruined."

Nick shrugged. “Frost would have killed it all if the hail hadn't. I'm going to have a bath then go to bed."

He should've been exhausted, being up all night, but the sunlight of the clear still day shone around the edge of his faded curtains, and Nick found himself lying in bed, wide awake, listening to the quiet splash of Samuel washing in the hand basin.

He heard the thud thud of the crutches, and the scuffle of Samuel's feet on the boards, then the creak of his bed.

Nick rolled over, bunched up his pillow a little more and tried to ignore the niggling feeling of there being something fundamentally silly about the two of them sleeping in separate beds when they could have been together, sharing warmth, keeping each other company.

Damn, he was horny.

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The Merc was a beautiful car, in atrocious condition but still beautiful, with enough space in the engine bay that Samuel could maneuver his way around it, despite his leg cast being in the way.

She was a forgiving car, obviously, able to run with no brake fluid and with a clutch in bits. Samuel flushed the radiator, cleaned the air filter, and tightened the timing chain. Now it no longer sounded like whatever it was that Josh had said it sounded like.

He'd done other things, too, repaired one of the engine mounts where it had shorn off with a strand of fence wire, and replaced the blown fuse for the headlights with one from the air conditioner unit. It wasn't likely that the air conditioner still worked anyway, and driving at night with no lights must have been exciting.

The fuel gauge didn't work, possibly just because the oil in the tank had solidified with the cold night, but Samuel doubted it. The oil obviously solidified often, if the smoking and charring on the underside of the fuel tank was any indication that Talgerit lit fires under the fuel tank to melt the fuel. It probably was sheep fat, or tallow of some kind.

He could have gone with Nick, back to the camp, to have another go at getting the generator to work, but Samuel had chosen to stay at the farm with the car. The seal on the repaired injector wasn't right, and he felt so jangled inside, more than a little strung out from the broken nights, and just plain frustrated, and some time alone seemed like a good idea.

The van rattled back into the yard before sunset, and when Samuel looked out of the kitchen window, Talgerit was getting out of the passenger side of the van.