Delyth hesitated. How do I put this in a way not to offend him? “I think the bank manager will want a proposal before he’ll lend you money. If you’ve got a suggestion, maybe I can help put it in a way that’ll persuade him.”
“Aye, that’s my girl. I’ve been thinking about all the other houses in the street that need an inside bathroom like ours. With me, Paul and Thomas working together and my knowledge of local sub-contractors, I’ll make a fortune, mind.”
This isn’t such a bad idea. “You’re right. I heard two or three local women discussing it in the store the other day. If we started small and built up a good reputation, we could develop from there.”
“Aye, just what I was thinking.”
“How much will you be asking for?”
“Haven’t got a clue. Thought I’d leave that to the bank manager. He’s the expert.”
“It’ll look better if you have a proposal. Let’s work it out. How much did our renovation cost for materials?”
Gwyn gave her a figure.
“Let’s add on the amount for wages for the three of you for the time it will take to complete one renovation, plus administration costs and profit. That will give us a good starting point. Then we can build up the business from there. Shall I write it out neatly for you to take to the bank?”
Gwyn looked at Delyth. “I know it’s not customary, bach, but since we’re going to be in this business together, how about you come with me to the bank? Then you can answer any tricky questions.”
Delyth’s smile broadened. “I’d love to come. While you finish breakfast, I’ll write out the details and change into a tidy dress.”
As Delyth hurriedly prepared, she gave thanks to God. If all goes well, I’ll be able to use my brain to do something useful after all. We’re going to make this business work. She knew Gwyn would do his part.
As she came back down the stairs Gwyn gave her a whistle. “My you look a treat. Our bank manager won’t be able to resist you.”
Delyth passed Gwyn the page with the figures she’d written out in neat hand-writing. A frown creased his brow. “That seems like an awful lot of money, bach.”
“It’ll be necessary to have a good base or it’ll never work.”
“I trust you, love.”
“How much have you got put aside?”
Gwyn counted out money from a little tin box Delyth had never seen before. She went to the bedroom where she’d stored the money she’d saved while working and returned with an amount slightly less than his.
“That’s not too bad, is it, girl?”
“Let’s take it with us to show the manager what our contribution will be. We’ll probably have to use the house as collateral, mind.”
Gwyn looked at her without saying anything.
“It’ll only be for a short time until we get the business going. Don’t worry. You know it’ll work.”
Gwyn walked over to his wife and pulled her to him. “I’m depending on you, sweetheart. Let’s go and start our new life together.”
As they sat beside each other on the bus, Gwyn reached across and put Delyth’s hand on his lap, where he held it warmly. She looked across at the man she’d once fallen in love with. Please God, make this work.
Two hours later they came out of the bank with a new account into which they’d placed their savings and an overdraft for not too much less than what they’d requested. Gwyn looked across at her with a smile. “Let’s go for a pot of tea, love.”
They sat snugly in the little tea shop opposite the bank. “So what do you think?” he asked.
The recognition dawned on Delyth that Gwyn didn’t have the first idea about managing money or running a business. The main responsibility had clearly landed on her shoulders. “We’re all set now. I think that we should put a little add in ‘The Observer’. I’ll buy some things to make up posters to go into the local shops and I’ll drop in and see those women I was talking to last week about the new bathrooms. All we have to do is get one or two jobs and we’re off.”
That evening, for the first time in a long while, Gwyn didn’t go to the pub. “It’ll save us a few pennies if I stay home.” They listened to ‘Dick Barton, Special Agent’, on the wireless. Then Gwyn read out a few items of interest from the newspaper.
At last, we’re on the same page.
Next morning, while Gwyn sorted through his tools, Delyth hurried to the local shops to display the posters she’d laboured on for hours. After attaching one to a notice board, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see one of her neighbours.
“What’s this all about then?” the woman asked.
Our first prospective customer, already! Delyth explained how the council grants worked and suggested Gwyn call around later in the day when her husband would be there.
Returning home, she discovered Gwyn in the kitchen, reading ‘The Observer’.
"That add you put in the paper’s come up fine, bach."
“Guess what, I’ve made an appointment for you to see Mr and Mrs Davies down the street. They’re interested in having a bathroom put onto the house.”
His eyes lit up as he rose from his chair and walked around the table to give Delyth a hug. “Aye bach, it’s all going to work out, it is.”
He returned from the appointment that evening with a broad smile across his face. “We’ve got that one in the bag.”
We’re on our way.
After dinner, Gwyn tuned into some lively music on the wireless and they danced around the parlour together, like old times.
Delyth discerned Gwyn’s disappointment when Thomas and Paul refused to throw in the towel at the Steelworks. “Don’t worry. At least we’ll have their board coming in while we’re getting started. They won’t let you down if you need them.”
“You’re right. It’ll be safer that way and they can come in as partners once me and you’ve got the show on the road.”
Seeing construction underway created a lot of interest. Two more contracts were signed up in no time. The Trebanos folk had known Gwyn all their lives and trusted him over the bigger firms. Gwyn worked long hours but often dropped by for lunch with Delyth. He mightn’t be making big money at this stage but being in control of his life, with no boss to answer to, made a big difference. The pub no longer beckoned. Gwyn even found time to take her to a film occasionally. What made it really fun was the way the crowd in the community hall got involved, cheering with the cowboys and chortling at the comedians.
Delyth even had a phone installed to contact suppliers. Her sister, dad and brothers called her from public phones in North Wales. Dad was impressed. “You’re doing well for yourself.” Delyth was delighted to hear the voices of her nieces and nephews, even if it reminded her they still hadn’t started a family of their own.
With the drawing in of days and increase in rain, activity slowed down, but Gwyn and Delyth kept each other going. Of an evening they’d play draughts, ludo or snakes and ladders. Sometimes Paul and Thomas joined in but, more often than not, they went down the pub to spend their evenings with the lads.
Chapter 13
1970
Images of the Vietnamese war, splashed across the T.V. screen of an evening, were unnerving for Natalie. She didn’t need these constant reminders of the risks Peter was facing, though she now had her own concerns. Her period hadn’t arrived. Is it because I’m nervous or am I really pregnant? She counted out the months. She’d be due in July next year. With any luck, I’ll have it in the semester break and can take the baby to class while I’m breastfeeding. What will everyone think? How will I cope? And Peter won’t be here to help. He’s got enough to worry about in Vietnam without being bothered by this. It’s all conjecture at this stage anyway. This is my punishment for stopping Peter from studying, so he failed his exam. I was so selfish making him take me to Berrima. Maybe with this baby, I can learn to be more loving. I want a baby, but not now on my own. I’m not even sure how Peter feels about me anymore. He wasn’t in any rush to see
me before he left. Not that I blame him. Poor Peter. What’s fighting and killing people in Vietnam going to do to him? I can’t imagine sweet, gentle Peter killing anyone.
After she missed her second period, Natalie knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. She went to the university doctor for a pregnancy test. Sure enough, it came back positive. That explains the nausea I have each morning. I knew it was more than nerves. Natalie thought about her parents’ impending visit next weekend. I’ll have to tell them.
Saturday arrived. As well as nausea, Natalie’s stomach was tied in a knot. She heard the knock and opened the door. They were all smiles as they entered and hugged her warmly. This is going to be even harder than I thought. She followed them to the car and got into the back seat. Dad drove to a park overlooking the harbour. It was a glorious, fine day with sunshine glistening on the ocean like tiny stars. The grass on the hill where they stopped was thick and green. No one else was about. Dad got the heavy items out of the car and commenced barbequing steak and sausages for lunch in his usual meticulous way. Natalie helped her mother lay out the rug and prepare the salad. At least Karen’s not here. One less person to deal with. Listening to her mother prattle on about Auntie Jean and their neighbour, Mrs Palfreyman, made Natalie realise how much her life had changed. She now belonged to a totally different world. Her parents seemed so happy. I don’t want to spoil their day.
Natalie tried to disguise her lack of appetite, chewing slowly on a sausage sandwich. Then Mum brought out her favourite chocolate sponge cake with cream in the middle and chocolate icing on top. “Just a small piece for me, thanks.” With lunch over and the cleaning up done, there was no longer any excuse to stall. She blurted out, “I’m pregnant.” Dad went white, then red, then purple as he glared at her. Mum started crying quietly.
Finally, Dad spoke. “You’re coming home with us. Get in the car now.”
“I don’t want to go back to Newcastle.”
“You don’t have any choice. Get in the car.”
“They drove back to college where Natalie packed a bag with personal items and a few clothes.” Other residents scrutinized her but she looked away. I might leave now but I’ll be back as soon as I can.
In the car, the tirade started. “Haven’t we brought you up properly? You’ve had everything – ballet lessons, tap-dancing lessons, elocution classes, your own horse.”
With the exception of the horse, I didn’t want any of those things. Nor did I have any say in my life until I chose to leave home.
Dad didn’t let up. “We gave you a good education. Mum spent hours helping you with your homework and this is how you repay her. Remember we’re the ones paying your college fees. We trusted you to behave like a lady. Now, look what you’ve done. You’ve ruined your life.”
Natalie could feel herself trembling. Her mind was racing around in all directions looking for answers but none came.
There was silence for a while, except for the sound of Mum sobbing. Then Dad started up again. “Are you mad? Are you a sex maniac?”
Mum chimed in. “What will Dad’s boss say?”
Natalie didn’t know what was worse, the interrogation or the gaps in between when her mind tried to make sense of it all, spinning out of control. All she knew was she’d brought untold shame and pain to her parents without intending to. The journey back to Newcastle was relentless.
Then they were back home, at the white, weatherboard house in New Lambton. Inside everything was the same, all in order as usual. She made her way to her bedroom at the front of the house with the sagging bed and windows looking out over housetops to Blackbutt Reserve. The old timber desk and wardrobe, though the same, looked older and unfamiliar. I’m a stranger in my own house.
She could hear Karen in the hallway. “What’s happened? Why’s Natalie home?”
Then her father’s deeper voice, “Go to your room, Karen. This has nothing to do with you.”
Her parents entered her room where she was seated on the bed. They stood over her. Mum started up, “I knew I should never have let you go to Sydney. You were far too immature. Now it’s too late.” The inquisition recommenced in earnest, more questions Natalie didn’t know how to answer, more anger and accusations. They raved at her, venting their anger and disappointment. Finally, the ultimatum was delivered, either Natalie adopt the baby out or return to Newcastle to live under their supervision.
They left the room and she lay on the bed crying. At least that was familiar. Mum called her for dinner but she didn’t go out. She didn’t want to be with them and she wasn’t hungry.
Natalie lay awake most of the night, tormented by whizzing thoughts that never reached a conclusion. The options they’ve given me offer no choice. I’m not giving up my baby. Nor am I coming back home. She was eighteen now and had lived away for seven months, running her own life. Still, my wishes don’t count.
Next morning, with Karen apparently having got the message about staying out of the way, the questions started up again over breakfast. She thought she was going to choke on her cereal.
“What on earth were you thinking of, Natalie, letting this happen?” asked her mother.
“I was thinking of losing my best friend, of Peter going to Vietnam and maybe never coming back. I was upset. We clung to each other and then it happened.”
Her parents looked at her. The expressions on their faces softened.
Her mother continued, “It’s done now and if you won’t consider adoption, we’ll just have to find the best way of managing. Why don’t you transfer back to Newcastle Uni and do an Arts degree? I could look after the baby while you’re at uni. Then if you train to become a teacher the hours will work in with the child.”
“Because I don’t want to be a teacher. I want to be a social worker and I don’t want to come back home. I have my own life now.”
Mum looked at Dad, shaking her head. “Do you plan on continuing your social work degree?”
“If I can.”
“Who’s going to look after the baby?”
“I haven’t worked that out yet. I’ll come up with something.”
“Your father and I have discussed it. We’re prepared to look after the child during term time if you come home during the breaks to care for it.”
“I have to get back to uni. I’ve got an exam next week.” Now I know how Peter felt, but I’m not surrendering.
She returned to her bedroom and packed her bag. She was walking down the front steps when Dad caught up with her. “Wait. I’ll get the car and drop you at the station.” Thankfully, they drove there in silence. She was relieved to see Dad drive off but felt weak and light-headed as she made her way down the steps at Broadmeadow Station.
Chapter 14
Natalie passed the exam and completed her first year of uni successfully. The long break lay ahead but Natalie had no intention of returning to Newcastle after all her parents had put her through. Not sure what to do, she sat in the gloomy Common Room, with its odour of stale alcohol and cigarette smoke, perusing a newspaper like everyone else around her. Suddenly her eyes lit up. ‘Flat for rent. $17 a week. Little Bay.’ Sounds like a nice place. Tearing the ad out of the paper, she raced to the car to check the Gregory’s. Little Bay was only a few miles away, on the peninsula beside La Perouse. After ringing the agent to confirm it was still available, she couldn’t change quickly enough into tidy clothes for the drive to Maroubra. She stood in a queue in the Real Estate office, restless for her turn.
The agent asked, “How much can you afford to pay?”
Don’t play games with me. “$17.” She’d already made up her mind where she wanted to live and she didn’t need any of this nonsense.
The agent gave her the key and directions to the flat, which he described as the back half of a house, with a shared toilet in the yard.
On leaving the congested built-up area around Maroubra shops, the din of traffic faded. Natalie drove along a wide road through open grasslands, where the breeze blew with a sal
ty tang. It felt like she was in the country, though she was still only a short distance from the university. A high, concrete fence surrounded Long Bay gaol and then, after catching glimpses of the ocean across fields, she reached Prince Henry Hospital. Now it’s time to check house numbers. I’m here. Natalie parked beside the house, but remained in the car, dumb-founded, staring at the squat building in front of her. It was an ugly, dirty-looking house, where concrete hung out between the layers of bricks, like an inner wall that brick-layers haven’t bothered to complete. From the roof, an addition stuck out like a sore toe. Not only had the owner divided the house into three flats, but apparently, he was also renting out the attic.
Natalie edged along the side of the house to the back. There, an outside toilet, constructed roughly from what looked like leftover, broken bricks, took pride of place in a yard incredibly overgrown with long grass, weeds and brightly coloured wildflowers, all attempting to cover piles of rubbish and empty bottles and cans that lay about. She walked past the well-established lantana, with the birds twittering around it, into the unfenced yard, ducking her head beneath an old Hills Hoist clothesline. There, from the crest of the hill, she overlooked the city. A gentle breeze blew her hair back over her shoulders. Directly in front of her lay open grassland. I’ll be able to take the baby for walks down there. Beyond it, Sydney disappeared into the haze. A cemetery and an oil refinery, with its unpleasant odour, were clearly visible to her left. Behind them, the sun reflected brightly off a scrap of ocean. I’m so lucky to have found a place with ocean views.
On opening the back door, she entered the warmth of a freshly painted, pale blue kitchen, flooded with sunshine. There was a three-burner electric stove, an old fridge that rattled noisily when she turned it on, a stainless steel sink speckled with paint and, in the centre of the room, a round, blue wooden table with three, non-matching blue chairs. Beyond the kitchen was a large bedroom, just as bright and sunny as the kitchen. She sat down on the double bed, observing the old, wooden wardrobe and dresser. As she glanced through the window, catching sight of the ocean in the distance, she relaxed. The serenity of the old house wrapped itself around her. Two other rooms ran off the kitchen. One was a dank, dark bathroom, just big enough to contain a rusty, old bath and basin. The other was a small, sunny unfurnished room. Natalie looked around it, decorating it in her mind’s eye for the baby.
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