‘See you in the morning then, yeah?’
‘Bye.’
I shut the car door firmly, wanting to slam it, but not enough to risk frightening the animal in my arms. It’s only when Josh drives off that I feel a prickle of regret for not wishing him a safe journey. But he didn’t screech away from the kerb so I can only hope that he’s learned his lesson, for tonight at least.
The house is dark as I walk up the footpath and only now does it occur to me that Ben might not be in. Then I see a thin ray of light peeking out from behind the curtains and relief surges through me. It’s close to midnight and he shouldn’t be awake, but perhaps I’m lucky. I press the doorbell. A moment later, the door opens and Ben is standing before me.
‘Sorry to bother you.’ The words tumble out of my mouth. ‘But I – we – I . . .’
A muffled squeak interrupts my speech and Ben’s attention is diverted by the package I’m carrying.
‘Come in, come in.’ He ushers me through the door and closes it before turning back to the bundle of fur in my arms. ‘Here,’ he says gently as I hand over the baby koala.
‘Shhh, it’s okay,’ he murmurs, as he quickly checks the animal over. I notice now in the light that it has a swollen eye and a couple of scratches. I feel so bad I could throw up. Ben looks up at me. ‘What happened?’
I swallow the bile in my throat. ‘Josh was driving . . .’
His stare hardens and I know I don’t need to say any more.
‘Come through to the living room.’
I follow him meekly, wishing I didn’t feel so helpless. He’s dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt so at least I know I didn’t get him out of bed.
‘I was scared you’d be asleep,’ I say, as he switches off the main light to darken the room. Two lamps on side-tables cast a glow across the space.
‘I’d just got off the phone,’ he replies. I wonder who he was talking to at this hour? ‘I need to get a heatpad and some blankets. Can you hold her?’
‘Is it a she?’ I take the bundle from his arms.
‘Yes.’
He leaves the room and I look down at the tiny creature. She starts to squeak again and my heart splinters. Tears are rolling down my cheeks by the time Ben returns.
‘Hey,’ he says kindly, touching my arm. ‘Do you want me to take her?’
‘No.’ My voice sounds small.
‘Okay. She’ll prefer the heat from your body to a heatpad, anyway. I’m going to prepare her some milk. Do you want a tea while I’m at it?’ And when I nod: ‘Milk, one sugar – right?’
‘Yes, please.’ Ben’s made me tea before in the staffroom. He returns after a while with two mugs of tea plus a lactose-free formula mixed from powder for the koala. He explains that koalas are allergic to cow’s milk as he attaches a teat to a syringe and passes it to me to feed her. She’ll switch to using a bottle when she’s a bit older.
‘What’s going to happen to her?’ I ask when the syringe is empty and the koala has fallen into a sleepy slumber. I sip my tea.
‘I’ll take her to work in the morning, but she’ll probably spend her nights with me for the first week before we relocate her to the hospital room.’
‘Hospital room?’
‘It’s where the animals are quarantined and handreared.’
‘Do you need to call Dave?’
‘No. We’re trained for this sort of stuff. Luckily she only has surface wounds. She won’t need to be euthanised.’
‘Put down?’ My eyes widen and then fill with tears.
‘She won’t need to be euthanised,’ he reiterates.
‘Would Dave have done that?’
