‘What’s this?’ Simone said. She was tugging on a piece of fabric that had slipped out of the bag.
‘Leave it alone!’ The fabric was a shawl that she had found at a museum in Sydney when she was visiting her friend Dora in the holidays. Dora had one just the same. They were faded orange shawls and they were very, very old. They also had strange magical powers.
Simone was pulling the shawl out of Carly’s bag. She hooted with laughter. ‘Holy moly!’ she barked. ‘It’s an old granny’s shawl! Is this what people wear in woop-woop?’
‘Stop it!’ Carly hissed as Simone started to drape the shawl around her own shoulders. She couldn’t tell Simone that this shawl was magical - that if she wore it, she would travel back in time to the olden days! Simone would never believe her.
But it was too late; Simone was already flinging the shawl around herself.
‘Wait!’ Carly shouted, grabbing the free end of the shawl and tearing it out of her grasp. The shawl swung back and settled around Carly’s shoulders. And darkness fell upon her.
Carly blinked. She could hardly believe she was in the same country, let alone the city she had been in five minutes earlier. Yet the Brisbane River lay behind her, so she figured she must be. She was on a rickety wharf facing the south bank of the river. Dirt roads stretched away from the river bank and carriages rattled along them. Instead of glassy, multi-storeyed buildings and offices, hundreds of low-set brick homes spread across the landscape. The Ferris wheel was gone.
She walked from the wharf up onto the road.
There was a rattle and a whoosh, and two bicycles hurtled past.
‘Hey!’ A bicycle clipped Carly’s elbow and knocked her onto the road. The bicycles skidded to a halt, scattering gravel. The riders jumped off and turned back to Carly.
‘Are you hurt?’ one of them cried.
Carly sat up and looked at the cyclists. She saw two women, dressed in skirts that reached to their ankles and nipped in painfully at their waists. Carly knew it was painful because she was wearing a dress just like it herself. She sighed. She’d almost forgotten how uncomfortable those old-fashioned corsets were. She brushed her hands together and struggled to her feet.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, although she had grazed her hand and it was starting to bleed.
‘Let me look at that,’ the taller woman said, reaching a hand out for Carly’s.
‘Ouch!’
‘Hold still!’ the tall woman snapped.
As she inspected Carly’s hand, Carly studied her. The woman had a narrow face with a long, heavy jaw. Her frizzy hair was pulled tightly in a bun under a large floppy hat. She was wearing an ankle-length grey skirt and a white shirt buttoned high up her neck, with a bow tied at her collar. Her friend was shorter and round-faced and slightly chubby in a cuddly sort of way. Her eyes were twinkly and full of smiles.
‘You’ll live,’ the tall woman said. ‘I don’t think it needs stitches, but come to the surgery and I’ll clean it up and make sure it’s all right.’
‘What surgery?’ Carly was alarmed.
‘Dr Booth’s,’ the tall woman replied.
Her round-faced friend smiled and put a hand on Carly’s arm. ‘My friend Lilian is a doctor. Dr Cooper. Don’t worry, she’ll look after you.’
A doctor? Carly looked at Lilian Cooper with surprise. With her big skirt and hat and bicycle, she didn’t look like a doctor.
‘Well, come along then,’ Dr Cooper said impatiently. ‘I’ll be late for work.’
The two women wheeled their bicycles along the road and Carly walked beside them. Her hand was starting to throb.
‘I’m Josephine Bedford,’ the shorter, smiley lady said. ‘Call me Jo.’
‘I’m Carly Mills. Are you a doctor too?’
‘Heavens, no,’ Jo replied. ‘I’m Dr Cooper’s friend. I’m riding to work with her today so I can have a look at the area. We’ve only just come to Australia, you see - only a few weeks ago. Dr Booth asked Lilian to come all the way from England to work for him. He said the ladies of Brisbane wanted a female doctor to look after them.’
‘What do you mean?’ Carly interrupted. ‘Aren’t there any other women doctors in Brisbane?’
‘Doctor Cooper is the first,’ Jo Bedford smiled proudly, putting a hand on her friend’s arm. ‘The first in all of Queensland!’
Dr Cooper lowered her hooded eyes and smiled shyly. It was the first time Carly had seen her smile, but it was worth the wait. Her smile revealed the kindness that had been hidden behind her gruffness.
‘Gosh,’ said Carly.
They came to a neat little house with a picket fence. A brass plaque on the wall said: ‘Dr Booth’.
Jo Bedford waved goodbye and cycled away. Dr Cooper leaned her bicycle against the wall and walked to the door. Carly followed her.
The door opened into a big room with timber-panelled walls lined with chairs. A dozen or so people sat there looking grumpy and worried, the way people always do in doctors’ waiting rooms. A man strode out to greet them. He was tall and dark-haired and wore a thick moustache and heavy sideburns.
‘I’m glad you’re here, Dr Cooper,’ he said. ‘It’s going to be a busy day.’
‘Good morning, Dr Booth,’ Dr Cooper replied.
Dr Booth turned to an old man who was clutching his belly in the waiting room. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘Dr Cooper will see you now.’
The old man stared at Dr Cooper and then at Dr Booth. ‘What? She’s Dr Cooper?’ he spluttered. He looked as if he’d just been told that his beard was on fire. Dr Cooper stepped towards the man. He pressed himself into the back of his chair and held up his hands in horror. ‘I’m not
