Sebastian Carmichael

by Gary Seeary

  “Pretty good,” I began, and then knew I had to be honest, “A mixed bag really. Lettie, I mean Leticia, will put a positive spin on it, I’m sure.”

  Madeline’s eyes never left mine as she sat down at the other end of the couch, before asking in a serious tone, “Sebastian, do you know a young man called William, he’s a senior undergraduate from the King’s College?”

  “No, not at all,” I replied, shaking my head.

  “I am not permitted to tell you his full name, but he says he knows you.”

  I looked up at Madeline gobsmacked, trying to think of anyone I knew called William.

  “Honestly, I don’t know any William at all, never mind from a university. He must be mistaken.”

  “I have only spoken to him a few times before in the dining room. He is quite an arrogant character. I was surprised when he knocked on my door, only an hour after the three seniors had left me. He said I should consider helping your sister find work because you had inspired him in the past … he wouldn’t tell me how.”

  “Inspired?” I repeated quickly.

  I jumped up and walked around the room before returning to sit on the couch, looking at Madeline to try and gauge what she was thinking.

  “I told him I had been let down too many times in the past by helping people, so I had no intention of being let down again. He became quite agitated by my refusal and stormed off.”

  “This bloke can’t go around saying he knows me, I need to front him.”

  “The university doesn’t need any more confrontations at the moment, Sebastian, so it may be best to let this pass. I will make a report if he returns again.”

  There was silence for a moment before Madeline asked me exactly why I had come to the college to see her. I told her that my parents had written to my aunt, believing it would be best for my sister if she had a change of surrounds, and that meant moving down to the city to find work.

  “My sister Lettie is a great girl, a lot of fun, almost all the time. To be quite honest, I’m not completely sure why she’s coming down to Melbourne, but I was hoping to surprise her with the prospect of a job, to get her off on the right foot. I can tell you no one works as hard as she does.”

  Madeline’s eyes were down, which I took as a bad sign, until I said:

  “She’s also a great cook, if that’s of any use.”

  Madeline looked up and then slowly straightened on the couch.

  “Did you know I was the manager of the college kitchen before you came to visit me this morning or was it just a wild guess?”

  “I didn’t know what you did here. I just had a hunch you might have some pull around the place.”

  I felt a lot better that I could talk freely to Madeline about the reason why I came to see her. I probably should have left it at that.

  “Unfortunately, I did a good job of embarrassing myself by ignoring the sign across the driveway that said no-one was allowed in.”

  “One of the seniors told me that you appeared shocked, when he mentioned that I was visiting my daughter at the Children’s Hospital. He shouldn’t have said anything, but since he has… I want to tell you there is no reason to be alarmed. My daughter does have polio, Sebastian, but she is doing well and has plenty of friends and lots of support in the hospital. She contracted it a year ago, at roughly the same time my husband felt he should look for work interstate.”

  “He’s not a strong man,” Madeline said quietly, suddenly looking drawn, before quickly steadying herself.

  “Sorry. Things became difficult between us as soon as we moved down from Sydney, six years ago. He couldn’t find work, but I managed to luckily, in the kitchen of the King’s College. The last time I heard from my husband, he was in Queensland. He wrote that he wanted to stay on for a short while after the cane harvest, saying he would be back down in two months … that was eight months ago. I want to apologise for not asking you to stay longer on Wednesday night, Sebastian. I was concerned you may be found here. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “You don’t ever have to apologise to me for anything, Madeline. I was just glad you didn’t lag me into the coppers, or worse, the professor.”

  She gave me a tiny smile as she picked up my empty cup and saucer, an indication that it was time for me to leave. At the kitchen door, Madeline stopped and looked back at me.

  “The last of the boarders are due to return within a week, that’s when the kitchen needs all hands on deck. It’s hot, heavy work, and I don’t put up with shirkers. Bring your sister around to the front of my house at two o’clock, next Saturday afternoon. I will let the seniors know you will be escorting her into the grounds. We will be catering the tutors’ welcoming dinner, which usually finishes late so I would recommend that Leticia be picked up afterwards.”

  Madeline then made sure I had her full attention.

  “… and Sebastian. Leticia will only get one chance to impress.”

  “Don’t worry, she’s a breath of fresh air,” I said positively, trying to dispel any doubt. “You’ll see!”

  “I will.”

  I took my cue to leave and Madeline saw me out the screen door, leaving me to make my own way along the secluded path and out of the grounds.

  Once again, I forgot to say ‘thank you’ to this incredibly generous woman.

  6

  * * *

  Lettie Arrives

  Aunty May was particularly quiet as she sipped on her nectar tea. We were waiting in a small café off the main hall of Spencer Street Station for Lettie’s train to arrive. I’d resolved to enjoy the peace as things may not be this quiet for too much longer, especially if Aunty May tried to tell Lettie how to dress and act down here. I wouldn’t necessarily call Lettie stubborn, bossy sometimes, yes, but she certainly wouldn’t back down if she thought she was in the right.

  I was enjoying the quiet that moment for another reason; after I saw Madeline on Sunday afternoon my head had felt like it had been split by a mattock. I had over-taxed my brain trying to figure out who this mystery senior could be, and also, what to make of my somewhat unsettling visit which I really hoped would turn out to be a good thing for Lettie.

  I decided on Sunday night not to let Aunty May in on the news of the job trial and how I had gone to a university college twice, only to end up in a woman’s house. I don’t know how I could have explained that.

  I knew telling the truth was always the best policy, but when things were as complicated as this, it was perhaps the best policy to keep Aunty May out of the picture for as long as possible; as long as possible that is, when dealing with a natural busybody. So, I would definitely be taking Lettie aside, to tell her the good news about the opportunity in Madeline’s kitchen.

  As far as the rest of the whole, sometimes, sorry story was concerned I’d have to be straight up with Lettie, maybe leaving out the bit about Madeline kissing me on the cheek when I met her Sunday afternoon.

  Excitement spread throughout the friends and relatives waiting in the main hall, as news of the Adelaide train’s arrival was announced over the newly installed public address system. At least twenty past eight in the evening was a civilised-enough time for us to find Lettie and then catch her favourite, the cable trolley-tram back to Aunty May’s, in time to have some tea and scones for supper.

  On the Country Arrivals platform, Aunty May wasn’t enjoying being knocked from pillar to post by the jostling crowd. We craned our necks, searching up and down the length of the jam-packed train, for Lettie to appear out of the swirling steam. Through a sea of waving hats and hands, I caught a glimpse of Lettie coming out of a carriage door backwards, a fair way down the platform; she seemed to be talking to someone inside.

  Lettie had finally arrived.

  I pointed her out to Aunty May, who started huffing about how far away she was. I could see Lettie being handed a large suitcase and a Gladstone bag by an elderly gentleman, which I presumed she placed on the platform, before returning to help the gentleman out of the carriage. Typical
Lettie, I thought, making a lifelong friend in a few hours. But, when she started helping the elderly gentleman along the platform while carrying his large suitcase, it occurred to me, where the hell was her luggage?

  Aunty May was aware of what she had done as well and pushed me in the back.

  “Quick, Sebastian! Go down and get her luggage before some shyster picks them up. They’re always hanging around here. Quick!”

  I ran as fast as I could, dodging people and luggage, along the platform towards Lettie, who was still helping the elderly gentleman along. As soon as she saw me, she dropped the old man’s suitcase like a hot potato and then ran towards me jumping up and yelling like a mad thing, her arms wide open for me to give her a big hug.

  “How the hell are ya, Grub?” Lettie yelled. “Good, I hope?” she said, squeezing the air out of me, “I’m so glad to be here.”

  “I’m great, Lett,” I choked out. “Lett, where’s ya luggage?”

  “I left it back on the platform, Grub,” Lettie replied, with a surprised look on her face. “I was gonna go back and get ’em after I took the old bloke out the front. They’ll be right.”

  “No, they won’t, Lett. There’re all sorts of bodgies hangin’ round the station, just waitin’ to snatch loose luggage like yours.”

  “Righto, Grub, since you’ve turned into a worry wart, you take the old fella and his suitcase out, I’ll go back and get my stuff. His name is Stan, and he’s a real funny bugger … smells a bit though.”

  Hell’s bells! Lettie’s going to have to smarten herself up real quick, if she’s wants to make it down here. I don’t want her to have to learn things the hard way.

  When we turned around to get the old timer, he was gone, nowhere to be seen.

  “Oh, well. He couldn’t have needed that much help,” I shrugged.

  Lettie held tightly onto my arm during our walk back to where she had left her luggage, happier than I thought she would be, to be away from home.

  “How’s the old battle-axe treatin’ ya Grubby, stickin’ her nose into ya business is she?” Lettie asked as she pointed out two small canvas bags, luckily still where she left them.

  “She’s all right, Lett. Ya just gotta keep out of her way, all the time,” I grinned before I leant down to pick up both bags. “Is that all of your luggage, Lett. I thought you’d have more?”

  “Give me one. I’ll tell ya ‘bout it later,” Lettie replied quietly, shaking her head “I’ll tell ya ‘bout everything later.”

  “We better get back to the old dragon, before she has a turn or something, Grub. Suppose ya heard about Dad’s truck hey, real bloody mess that was. The folks won’t listen, ya know.”

  Lettie remained surprisingly quiet while we walked back to join Aunty May, her seriousness starting to worry me.

  “Lett, don’t say anything in front of Aunty May, but I’ve got some ripper news for ya. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

  “Now I’m worried,” Lettie said, forcing a smile to show me her old self was still in there.

  When we reached Aunty May, she appeared genuinely happy to see Lettie, and I could even see a small tear in the corner of her eye, as she was given the same big hug as me. A cold draught that had managed to enter the main hall helped us make up our minds to head for home and a warm cup of tea. After we left the station onto a windswept Spencer Street, rain spitting, Aunty May and Lettie declared, almost in unison.

  “There is no way we are going up front on a cable tram dummy, on a night like tonight.”

  I had nothing to argue with, so we headed across the road to try and find a new tram heading up Bourke Street. But, as luck would have it, a cable tram just started coming out of its Spencer Street depot.

  All of a sudden Aunty May lifted her arm, waving down the gripman. “All right, Sebastian, this will save us waiting, but I’m getting in the trailer,” Aunty May insisted, “Leticia, can make up her own mind, if she wants to join me or not.”

  Lettie did the right thing and stayed with Aunty May in the trailer, allowing a chance for them to catch up on their own. I sat alone facing a biting wind at the front of the cable tram dummy, unable to recall a better trip, the way ahead looked decidedly on the up.

  The only slight downside to our trip, was that cable trams no longer ran up Rathdowne Street. The closest stop to Aunty May’s now was along Nicholson, opposite the Exhibition Building.

  Fortunately, the rain cleared, and a warm breeze blew in during our walk across Carlton Gardens. Lettie and I began reminiscing about the endless hours we spent there as kids, making up the silliest of games to keep ourselves amused. We waited until Aunty May was out of earshot, before we made a plan to catch up tomorrow after I got home from work.

  By the time we reached Aunty May’s, everybody had given up on the idea of tea and scones; we all needed our beds too much. There would be plenty of time for news, good or bad, tomorrow.

  *

  The first thing I noticed out of the ordinary, was a pair of girl’s legs tapping away on the cobblestones in the lane behind Aunty May’s, as I trudged the last fifty yards home from work.

  It was Lettie waiting on the back steps wearing a thin, plain cotton dress, barely enough for this coolish day. A teapot, a milk jug, cups and a plateful of scones placed on the step beside.

  “Cuppa, Grub?” Lettie asked, with a Cheshire cat smile on her face. A smile I was glad to see, after getting a feeling that the news from home may not be that good.

  “Thanks, Lett. You’re a life saver. This tannery work is for mugs, ya know.”

  I sat down on the step behind Lettie and then leant back against the screen door, wondering if it would be best to tell her my news now, or wait until later, when Lettie and I may need some good news to cheer us up.

  “Tell us ya news, Grub. I’ll let ya know if it’s a ripper or not. Ya still take milk don’t ya?”

  “Lett,” I hesitated for a second, “I got a trial for a job for ya at the Melbourne Uni on Saturday. You’ll be working in the kitchen of the King’s College.”

  Lettie looked at me as if I didn’t know her at all, or what was happening to her at the moment.

  “I do appreciate what you’ve done, but I have to talk to ya about what we’re gonna do about home first. Things are so confused back there. I can’t tell ya how much.”

  Lettie handed me my cuppa and then passed me a scone.

  “Dad’s truck didn’t catch on fire, Grub.” Lettie was struggling to get the words out “He set fire to it.”

  I sat silently looking into my cup, not expecting that piece of news.

  “Why?” I asked, turning to look at Lettie. “He’s all right isn’t he?”

  “He’s not thinkin’ right for a start. That’s for sure. He burnt his right arm trying to put the fire out, when the truck was past saving. Tiny had to pull him away. He burnt his arm as well. Dad ended up in the hospital for two days, Mum’s been watching over him at home ever since.”

  “The trouble is, Dad thinks Robbie is a genius and wants to send him to a university. That’s why he burnt the truck, to get the insurance money. Robbie is clever, no-one can argue with that, but now, all he does is memorise every piece of rubbish he comes across and then repeats it out loud, no matter where he is. I don’t know what people think of him. He also gets so violent if you try to take him away from his books, and luckily for all of us, he still wants to go to school. I hate to say it, Grub. But, I think there’s something seriously wrong with him.”

  I stood up and threw my scone away, watching it shatter on the paling fence opposite.

  “Sorry, Lett,” I apologised while I walked a few steps into the lane. “I kind ’a thought this might happen one day. If the doctors get hold of him, they’ll throw him in the asylum. I won’t have him in there, the stories I’ve heard about what goes on inside are horrendous.”

  “Ya know, Dad spends most of his time now staring out the window, waiting for news from the insurance company,” Lettie explained, then had a sip of
her tea, “He mightn’t get any money at all, they say. Lots of places have been torched lately, even the old toy factory in town. The insurance companies are sending up inspectors from the city to check on their local assessors so anything could happen.”

  I came back and sat on the step, wishing I didn’t feel so helpless. I couldn’t even send up some money.

  “Tiny has been fantastic. He works at the hardware store during the day and then goes home and does what he can. The stupid part is, the truck was doin’ really well. Dad did panic a bit when the fuel distributor wanted him to put more money on his account. He just hasn’t thought anything through clearly for a long time now, Grub. Neither has Mum really, she agrees with any nonsense he comes up with. I just ended up arguing with them both.”

  “Lett, I don’t know what to do, I don’t. If I go back, I’ll only end up getting in the way, becoming a burden on them unless I have some whiz-bang job to go back to.”

  “Maybe, they should just sell the farm and move into town, they might get a fair price.”

  “No-one’s bought a farm around there for years, ya know that,” Lettie replied, stretching out her legs as if she had more to say. “I had to get away. I quit my job at the drapers to help Mum, but I felt like a third wheel all day. So, I asked Mum and Dad if they would write to Aunty May, to see if I could come down, but now I’m here … I wanna go back home.”

  Lettie has taken the brunt of what’s happened back home — and most of it to heart. It’s not fair on her at all, but I couldn’t come up with a single decent idea that would make it better.

  “Lett, listen. If we both had jobs, we could send money back to Tiny; he’ll put it to good use.”

  “Tell me about this job at the uni,” Lettie asked, both of us ready to change the subject “You said it was in a kitchen, didn’t ya? What do I have to do?”

  “I don’t know for sure, Lett, but I told the manageress there you could cook really well and she sounded interested. She said the kitchen was catering a tutors’ dinner on Saturday night and it could go late.”