of it here and there, I think it might be candida—a yeast infection.’
‘Like women get?’ Angela asked, and Kate nodded.
‘A similar thing. It’s caused by yeast from the bowel and by bacteria and is more uncomfortable for poor Joseph than simple nappy rash, but there’s a cream you can use that should clear it up.’
What next? From what she’d seen of the town, it didn’t have a chemist’s shop, so getting Hamish to write a prescription seemed pointless.
‘Cream in the bag,’ Millie said to Kate. Millie obviously knew far more about clinic visits than Kate did! ‘This stuff stains his nappies so don’t you be worrying about it,’ Millie continued, addressing Angela this time, while Kate found the cream, one per cent hydrocortisone and three per cent iodochlorhydroxyquin—and, yes, the tube said it could leave a yellow stain.
Millie certainly knew more than Kate did!
‘Spread it thinly over the sore part twice a day,’ Kate told Angela. ‘Like this.’
She used a treated cloth to wipe the little fellow’s nether regions clean and another cloth to dry him off, then smeared a little of the cream over the bright scarlet rash. ‘You really need just a thin smear—putting it on more thickly doesn’t make the slightest difference. If it hasn’t shown signs of improvement, come back …’
There wouldn’t be a well-baby clinic more than once a fortnight but Kate remembered Hamish saying they did clinics, plural, each week.
‘Come back and see whoever comes later in the week,’ she finished, while Angela handed the baby and his card over to Millie for weighing and recording.
‘You give Joseph to his gran and get back to school,’ Millie told Angela when Joseph had his nappy on again and was ready to go.
‘She’s still at school?’ Kate asked Millie, while they waited for the next patient.
‘Last year, university next year. Wants to be a doctor. She’ll do it, too. Her mother’ll go to Townsville with her to mind Joseph while she studies. Girl’s got guts and brains—just stupid in the heart.’
Stupid in the heart! It was such an apt phrase it stayed with Kate as she examined another eight babies and listened to the problems their mothers had. She brought some up to date on their triple antigens, administered Neosporin drops into weeping eyes, gave advice to mothers on weaning, solids, diarrhoea and contraception, Millie letting her know in unsubtle ways whether she agreed or disagreed with the advice dispensed.
‘Lunch and judging time.’
Kate looked around to see Hamish approaching.
Stupid in the heart, Kate reminded herself just in case the reaction inside her had been something other than hunger manifesting itself.
‘Why doesn’t Millie take the well-baby clinic?’ she asked Hamish as they drove further into the town. ‘She knows the people and certainly knows as much if not more than I do.’
‘She says the people take more notice of someone from the hospital. They go to Millie in between our visits then come to see us to confirm what she’s told them.’
‘And that doesn’t drive her wild? That they don’t believe her in the first place?’
Hamish smiled.
‘I think it would take a lot to drive Millie wild. She just accepts that’s the way things are and gets on with her job.’
And that’s a salutary lesson for you, Kate told herself, then she gazed in astonishment at the building in front of her.
‘What is this place?’
‘Local hall. Funded by the federal government and designed in Canberra, which is why the roof is steeply pitched—so snow can slide off it.’
Kate was laughing as she got out of the car into the searing heat of what in North Queensland was considered cool spring weather, but once inside her laughter stopped, though a smile lingered on her lips.
The models, dozens of them, were set out on tables in the middle of the hall.
‘So many? Boy, the people here are really enthusiastic about having a swimming pool.’
‘You’d better believe it! But we’ll eat first. Wygera does the best lunches of all our clinic runs,’ Hamish said, leading her past the tables of exhibits to the back of the hall, where three women waited in a large kitchen.
‘Cold roast beef and salad. That all right?’ asked an older woman Hamish introduced as Mary.
‘Sounds great,’ Kate said, though she felt uncomfortable sitting at the table with Hamish while the women served and fussed over them, offering bread and butter to go with the salad, tea or coffee, then finally producing a luscious-looking trifle, decorated with chocolate curls.
‘I bet the female staff refuse to do more than one Wygera trip a week,’ Kate said, smiling at the women. ‘I’d be the size of a house if I came here more often.’
‘We like visitors, so why not show them how we feel with good food?’ Mary said, then she cleared the table while one of the other women walked back into the hall with Kate.
‘All the plans and models have numbers and the doctors who were here on Sunday, they have a list of the number and the names, so all you have to do is choose one and tell them the number. Dr Cal, he has the list.’
Kate turned around, thinking she might co-opt Hamish into helping her, but he was still in the kitchen, talking to Mary.
So she pulled her little notebook and pen out of her pocket and did an initial survey of the entries.
Round and round she went, slowly eliminating designs, until finally one was left. It had bits of dying bushes where trees would be planted, and tiny plastic animals sliding down plastic rulers to show waterslides. Scraps of drinking straws indicated where water would stream out from spa jets and what looked suspiciously like a hospital kidney dish represented the main pool.
‘This is it,’ she said to Hamish, who, with the other women, had now joined her in the hall and were eagerly awaiting the decision.
‘But that’s Shane’s,’ Hamish said, apparently recognising the model he’d brought into the hall earlier.
‘Does that disqualify it in some way?’ Kate asked.
‘No, no, of course not,’ Hamish said quickly, then he smiled. ‘In fact, I think it’s great. Poor kid’s been sick as a dog since his appendix op, and this will cheer him right up.’
He turned to the three women.
‘Will you keep it quiet or should we announce it straight away?’
‘People will know straight away whether you tell or not,’ Mary said. ‘People always know things.’
This was no more relevant to her situation than the ‘stupid hearts’ comment had been, Kate told herself, yet ‘people know things’ joined the ‘stupid in the heart’ phrase in her head, as if
