Free I Knew You'd Have Brown Eyes by Mary Tennant Page A

study, fully expecting to come back to Australia and set up a clinic as a qualified herbalist.
    On the days I wasn’t studying I found plenty of work. Tunbridge Wells was a town where wealthy people retired, and they could afford a private nurse. The money I earned wasn’t great but it was adequate. I worked for the British Nursing Agency in a mixture of hospital relief and private nursing. I loved studying and excelled in all my subjects. I enjoyed my nursing work too.
    But once again, in spite of my external successes and the accolades I was receiving in my studies and nursing work, I had another meltdown. One day I couldn’t get out of bed. I didn’t want to see anyone or go anywhere. I stayed alone in my room for three days. I felt my life wasn’t worth living. I had no direction. I began to regret my decision to adopt Christopher and chastised myself for my stupidity in giving him away. Surely I could have found a way, I told myself. Instead, I had ruined my life as well as my son’s and I would suffer forever for my misdemeanour. It was as though I needed to punish myself. My letters home became wistful and longing.
    I feel like I must work hard at everything I do so that I can become a better person, and yet I’m not sure how to do that .
    Around this time in an effort to save money on transport, though at great financial cost, I bought a Peugeot bike. The decision was made on a whim, but soon my cheeks were flushed with the crisp English air. As I flew along the country lanes of Kent, my spirits lifted.
    That time in England had other happy memories. One memorable nursing job I had was on a small dairy farm out of town, where I looked after an old lady. Her daughter wanted to keep her at home, not in an aged-care facility.
    Lush green pastures surrounded the farm, and the journey there on my bike took me across some of England’s most beautiful countryside. It was about a twenty-kilometre trip each way. I worked from 10 am to 6 pm. Each day I arrived in time to bathe the lady and help her with meals. Afterwards I’d read to her from one of her favourite books. Her daughter was busy with the farm and taking the children to and from school, but on their return from school the children would rush in to greet their grandmother and tell her about their day. This was a loving family and it touched me deeply.
    At around 4 pm they would all gather around a long table in the kitchen and have a meal, to which I was invited. It was winter; the food was warm and the fire cosy. It was hard to leave after my shift. Sitting at that table I thought that if I ever had a family, this is the atmosphere I would want to create.
    One Sunday the woman’s extended family came to visit. I bathed and dressed her in her best and put a little lipstick on. The family stayed for lunch and once again I was invited to join them. When I left that evening, she was at peace.
    The next day at school I received a call from the agency telling me that she had died that night. Her daughter sent me a beautiful card, thanking me for looking after her mother, especially on the Sunday that she’d died because she’d had such a lovely day.
    One morning after a night shift at the hospital in Pembury I heard what I thought was the twitter of birds coming down the corridor towards the nurse’s office. I poked my head out to see what the commotion was. The day staff were arriving for their shift.
    ‘What’s going on?’ I asked.
    ‘Have you looked outside?’ one of the nurses replied.
    I opened the blind in the office to a bright sunny day. If you’ve ever lived in England, you will know what a rare event that is. When I mounted my bike that morning I didn’t go straight home to sleep. Instead I went for a ride through the village. There were people everywhere, sitting outside cafés, sunbaking in bikinis on the common – that brought a smile to my face – riding bikes and chatting animatedly. No wonder the English are so depressed, I thought.