After they’d watched a koala bear show and learned all sorts of koala bear trivia, they’d had enough. Boarding a city bus, they returned to the hotel.

“No, you don’t!” Marissa said as she restrained Wendy from collapsing on the bed.

“Please!” Wendy begged. “Tell the tour director I have a touch of the bubonic plague.”

After their third shower of the day, they followed a suggestion from the concierge and took a short walk across the Victoria Bridge to the Queensland Cultural Center. In a rather modern restaurant called the Fountain Room, they relaxed for their first dinner in Australia. The view of the city across the muddy river was superb.

“I want to try something Australian,” Wendy said, hiding behind a huge menu. They ended up ordering barramundi, a type of Australian perch. To complement the food, they selected a chilled Australian Chablis. Once it came and was opened for them, the two women toasted their Australian adventure.

After tasting the wine, Marissa smiled contentedly. Its crisp finish was a delight to her palate. For the moment she was blithely confident the trip would mean just the right combination of relaxation and research.

“Ahhhh,” Wendy murmured, peering into her long-stemmed glass. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

“Amen,” Marissa agreed.

The next morning, after a hearty English breakfast, Marissa and Wendy hailed a cab. “Do you know this address?” Marissa asked. She’d given the driver the piece of paper with the FCA clinic’s address on it.

“Sure, luv!” he said. “That’s the women’s clinic, it is. Buckle up and I can have you there straightaway.”

The ride to Herston was pleasant. As they entered the green and hilly suburbs, they noticed a number of quaint, wide-perched, tin-roofed homes built on stilts.

“Those are called Queenslanders,” the driver explained. “Built in the air to keep ’em away from water. The verandas are to keep ’em cool. Gets mighty hot here in the summertime.”

In minutes, the cab pulled up to a strikingly modern four-story building surfaced entirely with bronzed mirrored glass. The grounds were landscaped with gorgeous flowering trees and bushes.

Getting out of the cab, Marissa and Wendy were struck by the sounds of the birds. They seemed to be everywhere: brightly colored and chirping and squawking. On the sidewalk leading to the entrance of the clinic they ran into a flock of mynah birds quarreling over a piece of bread.

As soon as the entrance doors closed behind them, the women stopped, awed by the building’s interior. The FCA wasn’t like any clinic they’d ever visited. The floors were gleaming onyx. The walls were a dark tropical wood polished to a high gloss.

“This place looks like a law firm,” Wendy said uneasily. “You sure you got the right address?”