In the third bedroom was a girl lying in a mess of blood. Her nightgown was soaked from the middle down and the sheets all around her were soggy and depressed. Bonfiglio coaxed her arms up loosely around his neck, and took her about the shoulders. Her lolling head was supported by his stomach. He staggered backwards, Nurse carrying her ankles, down the hall to the bathroom. She was not a small girl; in a swoon she was a dead weight. They laid her half on the table, with her head on a small cushion and her legs dangling over the side. Blood dripped on the lino.

'Hold her,' Nurse Mitchell barked. 'Hold her head or she'll fall down and kill herself. She's very bad.'

Police evidence: floor plan of Nurse Mitchell's house, 4 Burnley St, Richmond.
PROV, VPRS 30/P, Unit 2001, Melbourne Supreme Court, Case number 151 of 15 March 1923

Nurse Mitchell got two chairs and placed them side-by-side backwards at the end of the table. With Bonfiglio still holding the girl's head, 'Nurse Mitchell propped each foot on the backs of the chairs'. Mrs Milward hovered. Nurse went away and came back with her tools of the trade: a bowl of soapy water, a long, flat, silver instrument and a large syringe.⁴ She put the bowl of water on the seat of one chair, and sat on the other, and bent to work: scraping, syringing, soaping.

Bonfiglio and Mrs Milward stood in the bathroom for forty-five minutes. While scraping, Nurse Mitchell said to Bertha, 'Did I hurt you?' 'No,' the girl panted. 'You are a good girl,' Nurse said firmly. She turned to Mrs Milward. 'Call your son to get some brandy with a spoon.' ⁵

Mrs Milward fed the brandy to the girl in small sips. Nurse Mitchell had ceased scraping and syringing. Now she put her hand up, inside the birth passage: 'Cough, darling, and help me,' she ordered. 'The girl coughed three or four times'. 'You are a good girl,' she repeated. 'Cough again.' She removed her hand and rinsed it in the dish of soapy water, now lukewarm. The girl's head sank back on the cushion. She was breathing fast and shallow, her long neck as exposed and prone as her legs.

Nurse Mitchell could hear the quiet glug of blood filling the girl's womb.⁶ She said to Bonfiglio, 'I can't do anything more for her; I have done my best; it is a serious case and it may be fatal. I am very tired. I cannot do any more; I think she is gone.' She sluiced the coloured remains of the soapy water on the girl and said, 'Carry her out of the bathroom again and into the bedroom.'

Mrs Milward, Bonfiglio and Nurse Mitchell made to lift Bertha from the table, but she began to haemorrhage. Soon she fainted. They waited for the flow to ease and carried her, still dripping, back to the bedroom. Nurse Mitchell said she was off to bed, and told Mrs Milward to keep up the sips of brandy. Bonfiglio followed her out of the room, intent on sleep himself, but Nurse Mitchell told him to 'Go keep Maggie [Milward] company'. Bonfiglio objected.

Nurse Mitchell walked off, leaving Bonfiglio and his conscience in the doorway of the bedroom.

Inside the room, Mrs Milward was leaning over the girl. She was rolling feverishly from one side of the bed to the other. Mrs Milward put a hand on her shoulder to calm her, and fed her another spoonful of brandy. 'It is a shame to see the girl dying like this,' she said.

Bonfiglio was still thinking about Nurse Mitchell. He said aloud to himself, 'I am going to bed,' and became aware that Mrs Milward had spoken. 'Why don't you go to bed?' he asked. 'I can't leave the girl like this,' she said. Bonfiglio sighed; he could not leave in good conscience.

The girl looked into Mrs Milward's face and croaked, 'I'm so cold. Could you rub my hands, please?' Mrs Milward put the spoon aside and took her hands. The girl squeezed back weakly. She whispered, so that Mrs Milward could hardly hear over the gentle friction of their clasped hands and the bedclothes, 'You are kind; you are so good to me.' Mrs Milward tried to soothe her.

Mrs Milward was still rubbing the girl's hands, gently, gently. They were no warmer than when she began. 'She is not; she can't be gone,' she said. Bonfiglio leaned close. 'She is,' he confirmed. He straightened up, and put a hand on Mrs Milward's forearm, encouraging her to let go. The bedroom was cool and smelled of blood.

Mrs Milward went to the kitchen to brew a new pot of coffee. It was late. Mrs Spicer was in the kitchen. Everyone else was in bed. In an upstairs bedroom⁷ Bonfiglio stood over Nurse Mitchell and shook her awake. She said, 'I am tired, let me rest.' Bonfiglio persisted this time: 'Come and see her; you might do something for her.' Nurse Mitchell yawned. 'I suppose she is dead?' Bonfiglio replied, 'Just come and see her.'

In the bedroom, Mrs Milward gave Nurse Mitchell a coffee. Mrs Spicer had followed her from the kitchen. She peered at the girl from the doorway and said into the room, 'You know what she said to me earlier? She said, "I wish I were a little bird and a cat come along and swallow me up." Huh. Fancy a poor girl dying and none of her relations to know where she has gone.' ⁸

'It would be no good informing the relations,' said Nurse. 'It would be putting me away.' Mrs Milward asked, 'Is she really gone?' Nurse deposited her coffee and drew the bloody sheet over the girl's face. 'Yes. Go to bed,' she ordered them.