Royal Prince Alfred Hospital, Sydney, February 1914

Long before the first rays of light penetrated the room, and before the screaming of the corellas, Clara was wide awake. She picked up her pillow from where it had landed during a night of tossing and turning, cricked her neck back into place and prepared for the most significant day of her life.

‘You’ve spent years training for this, Doctor Heywood,’ she said to her reflection in the cedar-framed mirror while fixing her silk necktie with a pearl button. ‘Now is your chance.’

She did one final check to ensure no strands of hair had escaped from her loosely plaited chignon, patted down her ankle-length skirts, and headed downstairs.

With each footstep along the tiled corridors of the grand Victorian hospital building, her heart raced. At the entrance to the children’s ward, she stopped to savour the aroma of bleach and carbolic that wafted from under the doors. Clara loved that smell.

It represented everything she dreamed of. For the next six months this would be her ward and her responsibility.

She pulled herself up to her full height of five feet and four inches, took a deep breath and pushed the doors open.

A tall and imposing figure with a flowing white veil headed towards Clara, accompanied by the dull rustle of heavy cotton skirts and the jangle of brass keys concealed in the folds of her apron.

‘Good morning, Doctor Heywood. We have been expecting you. I am Sister Reid.’

‘Thank you, Sister. I am excited to finally be here.’

The ward sister’s features tightened into a disapproving mask. ‘I am well aware that the Board has seen fit to allocate you to this ward. You should be aware, however, that I will show no leniency towards your sex, nor tolerate any alterations to our ward routines. Now, I expect you will want to meet our patients?’

Before Clara could reply, Sister Reid clapped her hands and the ward fell silent except for a concerto of snuffles, coughs and rustling starched bedsheets. Clara hastily stepped in beside the ward sister and they processed along the neat rows of low-set, iron-framed beds. There were ten each side of the ward, with four wooden cots at the far end. Nearly all the beds were occupied, by children of differing ages and in various states of sitting or lying beneath neatly folded coverlets, but universally clad in blue-striped flannel pyjamas. Clara deliberately smiled at each of her new little patients, but their faces reflected only anxiety, or perhaps curiosity about the arrival of a lady doctor.

In the third bed, a young boy of about eight was propped up on pillows. Had he been well, his face, surrounded by an untamed mass of blond curls, would have been cherubic. Instead, a fevered pallor suffused his skin, his eyes were hollow, his lips chapped and dry.

‘Master James has been here two days,’ Sister Reid told Clara. ‘Bronchitis. Nurse Brown, fetch Doctor the medication charts.’

Sister Reid’s tone was more a command than a request, sending the young nurse scurrying to the notes trolley.

To Clara’s surprise the child didn’t protest when the nurse sat him up. Clara examined him carefully, first checking the hue and temperature of his skin. His small plump hands were hot and damp to her touch. She moved her stethoscope over his back and watery crackles bubbled through her earpieces. His chest heaved with each breath as he struggled noisily to draw in air.

‘You can rest now, James,’ she said, smoothing the child’s starched sheets back into place.

That was easy. Thankfully the diagnosis was clear.

‘Pneumonia most likely,’ Clara said. ‘Right lower lobe. He should respond to a treatment of steam vapour and eucalyptus oil.’

Sister Reid raised an eyebrow. ‘Doctor Burnett prescribed vapour of ammonia and camphor compresses. I imagine you will want to continue that?’

It wasn’t Clara’s first choice. She wavered for a moment. A small voice urged her to stand her own ground. But perhaps it would not be prudent to contradict the previous doctor’s orders, especially on her first day.

‘Of course, if Doctor Burnett has already written up the order …’ she said…