Purple Threads

by Jeanine Leane

  ‘Lucky I read all them books ’bout the Roman Empire when I was workin’ fer ol’ Mrs O’Brien. Them rich Roman women, they knew how ta work behind the scenes ta make the men think they was in charge when really it was them runnin’ the show. I ’specially liked that Empress Livia. She was running the whole bloody empire there at one stage. Course she weren’t above poisonin’ some o’ the ones that got in ’er way. Mind youse, I wouldna been above doin’ likewise to some o’ the men I met, but I knew I wouldna got away with it an’ they ain’t worth hangin’ fer. I did know how ta make poison though!’ She smiled slyly at the thought. ‘Ol’ Mrs O’Brien taught me how ta make something real deadly . . . outta fox-gloves, would ya believe? Who’d o’ thought something so pretty could be that deadly? They call ’em digitalis in them herb books she use ta have.’

  We crossed the summit of the hill and began to descend the slope to home. Aunty Boo continued: ‘But ya never give away ya best secrets – ’member that, youse girls, I never tol’ that to anyone.’ We quickened our pace down the slope as the winter dark set in.

  During the war Aunty Boo got her driver’s licence. She savoured this victory time and time again, as she told this story many times by the fire.

  ‘I buttered ’em up real good, I did. Thought about how I might go ’bout it fer a while. Had ta be careful ta make it sound like it was all fer their own good.’

  She laughed openly and mimicked the gentle voice she’d put on for her father.

  ‘It could be very handy for ya, Dad, if I could drive. Means ya won’t hafta be interrupted from ya work ta bring supplies from town or come with me when there’s bankin’ or other jobs ta be done about town. And, ya never know when there could be an accident or a sickness that needs tendin’ ta.’

  Nan and Aunty Bubby found this fake politeness amusing. ‘Nearly killed ya bein’ that nice ta him, didn’t it, sista?’

  ‘Nah, not if it was gunna get me somethin’. Besides, I use ta earn a livin’ bein’ polite ta whitefellas an’ I was retired.’

  She chuckled and resettled the cats on her lap before pushing on. ‘The ol’ man took ’is good sweet time thinkin’ ’bout it, but I knew he’d say yes, coz I made it sound like it was all ’bout ’is own good an’ ’is precious bloody Richie o’ course. He was a bloody pain in the arse while ’e was teachin’ me . . . but things started ta change when I got me licence. Mum an’ Petal, they got ta do things that none o’ us ever dreamed of.’

  ‘A good thing it was, daughter,’ Nan beamed as she rode high on the wave of memories. ‘We started goin’ out quite a bit an’ I’d hardly been anywhere ’cept church, an’ that home, an’ other people’s houses as their slave before that! An’ didn’t we get some good things fer Petal, hey?’

  ‘I took ya back ta see some o’ ya own people, ’member?’ Aunty Boo went on. ‘Welcomed us with open arms, they did! An’ that ol’ one they all called Black Sally –’ Aunty Boo leaned forward and looked intensely into Nan’s face – ‘she helped ya find ya lost sista Ruthie.’

  ‘Course I remember! Jus’ coz I’m old don’t mean I’m stupid, girl. Poor ol’ Ruthie! She ’ad a hard life. Only seen ’er once before she passed. Poor darlin’ died too young, only in her sixties. Still, fer a long time there I never thought I’d see her again, so s’pose once was betta than never!’

  ‘An’ this one, hey . . .’ Aunty Boo tapped Aunty Bubby playfully with her foot. ‘Dead scared o’ leavin’ home case she met a man. But I soon fixed that . . . said I’d take ya out an’ not let no man near ya. An’ I was true ta me word.’

  Aunty Bubby came to her own defence. ‘I weren’t scared o’ men though, I jus’ wouldna known how ta tell someone that I weren’t the right one ta marry an’ have a family. An’ I was worried ’bout goin’ down town case people laughed at me like they use ta at school.’

  ‘Nah!’ Aunty Boo threw her hands up in the air. ‘I’d been down town lotsa times with ol’ Mrs O’Brien an’ some o’ the town people wouldn’t talk ta her coz she was a Catholic, even though they s’pose ta worship the same God. Them Catholics an’ Protestants always had some feud goin’ but I watched the way she held her head up high an’ stared right through all them people that ignored her an’ I thought ta me-self I wanna be like that one day! An’ I did get some o’ me wishes come true. Yeah, when the ol’ man got older an’ stopped noticin’ everything we did I never missed an opportunity ta take youse out.’

  Nan’s eyes were glowing. ‘Didn’t we go ta some good places? An’ what about the clothes I made when ya started doin’ the farm books, daughter, an’ ya was settin’ aside some o’ the money coz William was too old an’ Richie was too stupid ta notice.’

  ‘Yeah, they was the times, hey? That’s another thing I can thank ol’ Mrs O’Brien for. She taught me how to balance account books coz she had so much money an’ she never trusted no one with it but me. An’ then I talked Dad in ta lettin’ me do his books coz it’d save ’im money ’stead o’ gettin’ that flash bloke in town ta do his accounts.’

  ‘D’ya ever worry ’bout ya soul, sista?’ Aunty Bubby was trying to be serious but the corners of her mouth were twitching. ‘Ever think ya might miss out on heaven?’

  ‘Nah, I don’t wanna go there anyway. Nah, not me. I’d rather rot in the dirt an’ make the flowers grow. Besides, wherever I go you’ll be goin’ too, sista, mark my words. It’s called conspiracy, an’ them Romans were really good at it. I took a leaf outta one o’ their books on that one!’

  Nan was miles away.

  ‘Wasn’t she the prettiest baby ya ever did see? Them black curls she had . . . that shiny an’ thick. Never seen a kid with prettier hair! An’ I run outta flower names so Rose come up with the idea o’ callin’ her Petal.’

  Aunty Bubby couldn’t let the credit for the name they were all so pleased with go to someone else.

  ‘Nah, Mum, callin’ ’er Petal was my idea coz I said all flowers got petals, donchya remember? I use ta spend hours brushin’ an’ combin’ her hair while she sat on the kitchen table,’ she reminisced. ‘She use ta swing them long legs o’ hers under the table an’ point an’ twist them skinny little feet every which way. Her feet always reminded me o’ cyclamen buds when they’re uncurlin’ to full flowers. But talk about shine when I finished brushin’ an’ combin’! An’ ya use ta buy all sorts o’ pretty clips an’ ribbons an’ clasps fer her hair an’ I use ta do it up in all sorts o’ fancy styles. I’d have her lookin’ like a little princess sometimes, but the funny thing was there weren’t nuthin’ Petal liked betta than ta let her hair down.’

  ‘Bloody Petal!’ Aunty Boo clenched her teeth. ‘Last time we seen her she had all that pretty hair cut off real short like a boy. Felt like kickin’ ’er arse when I first saw her, but youse wouldna let me.’

  ‘That’s the fashion in the city, sista, short hair.’ Aunty Bubby held up one of her well-thumbed magazines revealing a picture of a fresh-faced smiling young white model with a cherub haircut. ‘Besides, she’d only jus’ got home an’ we wanted her ta stay fer a while. An’ she won’t stay round with you threatenin’ ta kick her arse all the time, will she?’

  ‘I weren’t threatenin’ all the bloody time, sista, jus’ when she needed it. An’ if Mum an’ you had o’ let me do this when she was little she mightna run off like that.’

  Nan felt the tension rising. ‘Hey . . . hey, youse two. We all miss her . . . but we was all lookin’ afta her the same. Ain’t no one’s fault what happened. B’sides, it ain’t all bad. What day did Petal say she was comin’ again?’

  ‘She didn’t, Mum.’ Aunty Boo chomped on a biscuit. ‘She jus’ said next week sometime. Ya know Petal, she might change ’er mind.’

  ‘Remember all the good books we got ’er when ya started drivin’, sista?’ Aunty Bubby prompted. ‘An’ I use ta take her up on the hill an’ read ta her from Pocahontas an’ Hiawatha an�
� she use ta pretend ta be different ones in whatever story I was readin’.’

  ‘Yeah, youse ’ud be gone fer hours up there actin’ out stories. That’s what got ’er interested in all them flash movie stars when she got bigga.’

  ‘An’ remember all that pretty material we use ta buy ta make Petal little dresses an’ costumes so she could be like her favourite ones from them stories youse was always readin’?’ Nan, who loved bright colours and flamboyant things, recalled. ‘William wouldna let me make pretty clothes fer the rest o’ youse girls, only greys an’ browns, but he never seemed ta notice when it come ta Petal. Too old, I s’pose.’

  ‘Too interested in bloody Richie more like,’ Aunty Boo snorted.

  ‘Ahhh, ya know he was only interested in his sons. Prob’ly a good thing too, daughter. At least Petal got ta ’ave things that youse never did!’

  I tossed and squirmed in my bed. Sleep threatened to overtake me and I wanted to listen. Aunty Boo stoked the fire and shook her head at the dwindling wood on the hearth. A cold gush of night air filled the kitchen as she opened the door and crossed the veranda to the wood pile. Jagged stars blazed in the cold night sky beyond the door. Aunty Boo threw honey-coloured chunks of yellow box on the burning coals. Whirlwinds of sparks spiralled up the chimney. As the leaping flames devoured the honey-comb wood the fire glowed orange and lit the women’s faces as they talked.

  ‘She looked more like Pocahontas than Heathcliff when she got a bit older,’ Aunty Bubby said. ‘An’ ya made her a little Indian dress with tassels an’ all an’ I braided her hair an’ Boo an’ I took her ta town an’ ol’ Nurse Jones said I did a real good job with that wild hair o’ hers. But when she thought we was outta earshot she said ta her hoity-toity friends, That child’s cheekbones stick out so much you could cut bread on them!’

  ‘Bloody woman was so damn loud no one was ever outta earshot,’ Aunty Boo spat.

  Aunty Bubby was staring into the fire, the memories flowing thick and fast.

  ‘An’ she begged an’ begged ya ta buy ’er that bow an’ arrows she saw in the window of that shop in town an’ I didn’t think it was a good idea. I tried ta tell her that only the men can be braves an’ the women do other important jobs. An’ she kept tellin’ me that if ya put Hiawatha an’ Pocahontas together they’d beat the pale faces any day an’ she didn’t see why a girl couldn’t be a brave as well as a boy. An’ then ya had ta go an’ tell her she could have that bow an’ arrows an’ a headdress as well an’ she could be a warrior woman at home anytime.’

  Aunty Bubby glared at Aunty Boo.

  ‘Yeah, that’s right, coz I agreed with ’er,’ Aunty Boo came back defiantly. ‘I never did see why girls can’t do everythin’ boys can do.’

  ‘So,’ Nan cut in, mock seriously, ‘if Petal turns out ta be one o’ them women’s lib girls it’ll be your fault, daughter.’

  ‘Ahh, told ya I don’t mind ’em. Petal could do worse.’

  Aunty Bubby rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, but I had the devil’s own job tryin’ ta get Petal outta that damn costume an’ into a proper dress ta send her ta school on her first day.’

  Aunty Boo laughed. ‘Yeah, I had ta remind ’er of our deal that she could only be a warrior woman at home before ya could get ’er into that frilly new dress Mum made an’ the new shoes I bought specially.’

  ‘Poor little thing hated school right from the first day,’ Nan remembered. ‘She use ta cry an’ beg ta stay home an’ it use ta break me ol’ heart when she cried.’

  ‘I didn’t trust that bloody ol’ Mr Anthony ta look afta Petal,’ Aunty Boo said, emphatically. ‘I knew he was gunna be too hard on ’er, jus’ like the teachers were with us. An’ even though we did learn how ta read an’ write, which was a good thing, they use ta flog us, them teachers, lot more than the other kids an’ I could see that ol’ Anthony didn’t want ’er there anyway. Musta had least seventy or eighty kids there already. Couldna let ’er stay there, could I?’

  Aunty Bubby and Nan nodded in unison.

  ‘Nah, sista, an’ ya come up with a real good plan too,’ Aunty Bubby said.

  ‘Yeah, ol’ Mrs O’Brien told me once that some people are so busy lookin’ down their nose at others that snot clouds their thinkin’ an’ ya can put anythin’ over ’em if ya say it right an’ pick the right time. I could see that ol’ Anthony was one o’ them types an’ that’s where Bubby’s good manners an’ nice polite voice come in real handy.’

  The women laughed again, and Aunty Bubby slapped her knee. ‘Yeah, ya sure come up with a good story! I had ta practise in front o’ youse a few times ta get it right. I still remember goin’ up ta ol’ Anthony.’

  Aunty Bubby cleared her throat, put a deliberate plum in her mouth and turned both her eyes in to look at her nose before she repeated the well-rehearsed speech. ‘Petal’s a frail child. She’s always been sick since the day she was born though you’d never know it the way she runs around and climbs up trees. But that’s what it’s like for poor little Petal, one minute she seems fit and healthy and the next minute she’s passed out with a raging temperature and having convulsions. The doctor says she suffers from falling sickness.’

  She broke off, holding her sides that looked to me like they were splitting. Tears were rolling down Nan’s and Aunty Boo’s cheeks and their laughter was so raucous it woke Gypsy and Ginger, the two big dogs who always guarded the front door. I could have keeled over and died and they wouldn’t have noticed, they were so busy talking about Petal.

  Aunty Bubby took a big breath and continued, ‘Ol’ Anthony pretended ta be real concerned but I could see ’im heavin’ a sigh of relief underneath that fancy waistcoat o’ his. I told him too ’bout how when I was a maid for the Rileys they had me mindin’ their kids all the time an’ teachin’ ’em how ta read an’ write before they was big enough ta be sent ta one o’ those flash schools in Sydney an’ I promised if Petal weren’t at school I’d do lessons with her at home. He had enough kids ta look afta without worryin’ ’bout the little dark one an’ he told me if in any doubt whether Petal might fall down at school ta keep her home an’ it wasn’t so hard then ta coax her to go one or two days a week.’

  ‘But ya didn’t spend too much time on lessons, did ya, sista?’

  ‘Petal can read an’ write,’ Aunty Bubby insisted, wiping her eyes.

  ‘Ahh, but ya spoilt her. You were always too soft, sista. The minute she’d want ta go outside an’ play stories an’ pretend ta be someone else you’d take her, wouldnya?’

  One night a wind storm had blown a large silver-trunked eucalypt across the power lines and we were without electric lights till morning. Aunty Boo put a hurricane lamp on the kitchen table and Nan put candles on the mantelpiece. The wind wailed relentlessly through the gullies and across the sheep paddocks. The hollow sound unsettled us.

  Aunty Bubby made us fried scones in a pan over the fire and we dunked them in honey – our sticky fingers couldn’t get enough of the warm soft dough into our mouths at once. But even with full bellies the wind made us jittery. It was too dark to read, so Aunty Bubby put our mattress and quilts next to the hearth. I watched the reddish orange fire in front of me and tried to forget the wind. Aunty Bubby spun new wool by the light of the dancing flames as she told us about the time Petal became ill.

  ‘We were watchin’ the baby ducks on the creek an’ I never noticed ’er feet gettin’ so wet an’ cold but then the poor little thing got a real bad chill. In bed fer weeks, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Yeah, real bad chill . . .’ Nan was stony-faced now as she recalled Petal’s bronchitis. ‘We had ta take it in turns stayin’ up all night with ’er. She had some real bad nightmares too, remember.’

  Both the Aunties nodded, and Aunty Bubby continued, ‘An’ I told ol’ Anthony that Petal couldn’t come ta school at all now, least fer the rest of the year. I told him she had someth
in’ real contagious an’ he told me he understood if he never saw Petal again.’

  Aunty Bubby’s voice was quivering, but I could fully relate to Mr Anthony’s sentiments as I strained to listen above the snoring dogs.

  ‘Lucky fer Petal he didn’t want ’er in the first place,’ Nan said as she stroked Aunty Bubby’s knee.

  ‘Lucky fer Petal the school shut down the followin’ year,’ said Aunty Boo. ‘She was close ta leavin’ age by that time anyways. How ’bout another cuppa before we call it a night, hey?’

  Aunty Boo was already off to fill the kettle, but Aunty Bubby was still reliving the past: ‘We started takin’ Petal ta the movin’ pictures, didn’t we, sis? Casablanca was my favourite. I thought Ingrid Bergman was jus’ beautiful. Me an’ Petal said, “Play it again, Sam” fer weeks afterwards. An’ ta think the damn newspapers hounded Ingrid when she left ’er husband fer another man. I thought they shoulda been shot fer that!’

  Aunty Boo scooped tea from a battered tin into the huge blackened teapot. Even though the flame on the lantern burnt dim and low, Aunty Bubby took her knitting basket from the dresser and pushed the spinning wheel to the far corner.

  ‘Can’t believe ya was so surprised, sista, then or now,’ Aunty Boo said, when Aunty Bubby settled down to knit.

  ‘Petal wanted ta be a film star afta that . . .’ Aunty Bubby said, staring wistfully into space. ‘An’ she was so tall an’ pretty, I thought she woulda been real good too.’

  ‘An’ then youse started takin’ ’er all the way ta Wagga fer actin’ an’ whatever that other fancy thing was,’ Nan said, her head beginning to nod with tiredness.

  ‘Deportment.’ Aunty Bubby pronounced the word very clearly and deliberately. ‘Anyways, Mum, ya need ta snuggle up now. Sis an’ me’ll jus’ wash up an’ we’ll be off too. Youse kids settle down now too – it’s gettin’ late!’