Mr White nodded. ‘I think I have enough.’
When they were shown into the medical room, Teresa tried not to look directly at the women and men who stood in line dressed only in their underwear.
‘Next,’ a nurse called, but Nanna suddenly looked lost, as if she had no idea where she was. ‘Next!’
Teresa took her hand. ‘It’s our turn, Nanna.’
‘Yes,’ she said, and only just seemed to remember where she was.
‘Stand here.’ The nurse pointed at a tall, upright machine.
‘What is it?’ Teresa asked.
‘An X-ray. It looks at your lungs to make sure you don’t have any diseases.’
The nurse kept her distance and Teresa wondered if she had ever smiled.
Nanna climbed on to a small step and winced as the nurse pressed her body against the cold plate.
After Teresa had her turn, a doctor flashed a torch into their eyes, held their jaws open to check their teeth, made them circle their arms and lift their legs before asking them to sit. The doctor hit a small hammer against Teresa’s knee and her foot flicked into the air.
‘Ouch!’
‘Your reflexes are fine.’
They will be if you don’t hammer them any more, Teresa thought.
After Teresa and Nanna dressed, they waited in the foyer for Mama and Papa to finish.
Nanna announced she was leaving.
‘Are you okay?’ Teresa asked.
‘Yes, just a bit tired. I’ll have lunch ready when you come home.’
Nanna gave Teresa a kiss and shuffled outside as if her body were almost too heavy for her feet to carry.
While Teresa waited, she watched women and men anxiously exchanging stories, hoping they’d each answered the questions correctly. Some seemed hopeful while others slumped in tears.
Two men in suits walked out of the interview room and stood beside Teresa, each holding a cup of tea. They watched a woman holding a baby and crying while a man tried to comfort her.
‘It’s a shame. They seemed like a nice family,’ Teresa overheard one of the men say.
‘We can’t let them in?’
‘You know the rules.’ The first man shrugged. ‘Their skin’s too dark. We can only take the light-coloured ones. If we send people to Australia looking like that, there’ll be riots in the streets.’
Teresa frowned. She looked again at the crying woman and the other people in the hall. Some were old, others were young, and most of them had thick, dark hair, except for the older ones who had grey curls.
Otherwise, they were all the same. The same people who fought the Germans and protected not only Malta, but helped the Allies win the war.
But the man’s words made her see them differently. Maybe Mrs Gatt was right. They were turned away because they were too tanned. Some people did have darker skin, but she couldn’t understand why this meant they weren’t allowed into Australia.
The crying woman let out a final sob and was led from the building, nestled in the arms of her family.
‘Papa! Mama! It’s here!’
Teresa ran up the stairs two at a time clutching the letter from the Australian Government. Her papa carefully took it from her and slid his finger under the lip of the envelope. He withdrew the letter and opened it.
Dear Mr Fontana,
Your application for settlement in Australia under the provisions of the Assisted Passage Migration Scheme has been approved. We, the Australian Government, would like to …
Teresa’s papa stopped. He wiped tears from his eyes. ‘We’re going to Australia.’ He laughed and said it again as if to convince himself it was true. ‘We’re going to Australia!’
He lifted Mama and spun her around. She screamed and held on tight. ‘I can buy you a house with a yard and we can grow our own vegetables and …’
‘I have to tell George!’
Teresa heard her father’s excited promises fade as she hurried down the stairs. She crossed the street and raced along the footpath, gulping in huge breaths as she crossed the village square and into George’s street. She burst through the front door without knocking, as she’d done ever since she was a small child.
‘We’re going to Australia!’
George was sitting on the sofa, his head buried in a book.
‘Have you had your letter yet?’ Teresa sat beside him with a bounce, which jiggled the book from his hands. He picked it up and nodded.
She playfully nudged him. ‘Well, what did it say?’
George shrugged. ‘They said no.’
Teresa was sure she must have heard wrong. ‘What?’
‘They said they’re looking for people with no defects.’
‘Defects? I don’t understand.’
‘My limp,’ he said quietly, as if he was running out of words. ‘They said they couldn’t accept me because one leg is shorter than the other.’
Teresa threw her hands in the air. ‘What does that matter?’
‘They don’t want people who will be a burden on the welfare system.’
‘A burden! You’re going to be a doctor one day! How is that a burden?’
‘I don’t know.’ George shook his head. ‘But we’re not going to Australia and it’s my fault.’
‘It is not your fault. You were injured in a bombing raid. The doctor said you could have died.’
George said nothing.
‘You’re strong and fast and smarter than anyone I know and they’re stupid for not seeing that!’
Teresa had spent barely a day apart from George in her whole life. He’d always been there, and she couldn’t think about life without him.
‘We’ll have to go back and tell them they’re wrong.’
‘Mama already tried. They said their decision was final.’ George stood up. ‘I might go and lie down.’
‘Can I stay with you?’
‘I think I’d like to be alone.’
Teresa watched him leave the room, each step a little crooked. His limp was only one small part of him, something you forgot when you knew him. He was George, her best friend, the kind of person who’d risk his life to save small birds.
He disappeared into his room and the door shut against the sound of his uneven footsteps.
‘Do you have any room for these?’
It felt as if everyone in the village had arrived with boxes of date cakes and honey rings. Mama placed the boxes on a growing pile on the dining table. ‘We’ll eat like kings.’
The flat was a confusion of suitcases, boxes and cups of tea being passed to every new visitor and well-wisher.
‘The first ones to leave,’ Mrs Gatt said. ‘How exciting!’
‘You will lead the way,’ Father Raymond said. ‘And make us all feel proud.’
Mrs Azzopardi handed out pieces of puddina. ‘We will miss you all, but you are doing the right thing. Europe is old and Australia is the future.’
Teresa nodded politely. Her thoughts swung from excitement to a fear that lodged in her throat like she’d swallowed a lolly before it was small enough. ‘Excuse me, I’d better see if Nanna is ready.’
She knocked on her grandmother’s bedroom door and a small voice drifted from inside. ‘Come in.’
Nanna sat on the bed facing her window, which looked on to the streets of their village. On the floor beside her was an open suitcase. Something about the way it sat empty made Teresa’s skin pinch all over. ‘You haven’t packed.’
Nanna patted the bed. ‘Sit with me.’ She pulled a small brown parcel from beneath her pillow. ‘I made this for you.’
Teresa untied the string and inside was a white nightdress embroidered at the neck and sleeves with lace.
‘It’s beautiful. Thank you, but why –’ It was then Teresa realised. ‘You’re not coming!’
‘Oh, my darling girl.’ Nanna held her close. ‘I’ve prayed to Santa Marija to help me see my life in a new country, but Malta is my home.’
‘We’re going to make a new home.’
‘But what about us?’
‘That’s what makes it so hard.’ Nanna’s eyes glistened.
‘Do Mama and Papa know?’
‘I told them I would make my final decision this morning, but I think they already know.’
Teresa fell into her arms. ‘I can’t do this without you.’
‘You can because you are strong and smart and you have parents who love you and I will be here, praying for you every day to be happy.’
‘How can I be happy if you’re not there?’
Nanna wiped Teresa’s tears with her apron. ‘My life is here, but your life is just beginning. Come now, it’s time to go.’
The ship was tethered to the dock like a giant sleeping beast. In its shadow, luggage was being loaded on to carts and boxes hoisted overhead into cargo holds. The dock swarmed with neatly dressed children standing beside bulging suitcases or running between adults who were saying last goodbyes or burying their faces in their handkerchiefs.
Teresa gripped Nanna’s hand, worried that she might lose her in the chaos.
She also hoped that, at the last minute, Nanna would change her mind.
The ship’s horn sounded a huge blast.
‘It’s time to board.’ Papa turned to Nanna. ‘Are you sure you won’t come?’
Her voice was strained and hollow. ‘My home is here.’
He hugged her for a very long time with his eyes shut tight. His shoulders shook. Teresa had never seen her papa cry. Not when he spoke about friends he’d lost during the war, not even when he found out their home had been destroyed, but now, saying goodbye to his mother, it seemed he couldn’t stop. His face streamed with tears as he turned away.
Mama wasn’t able to speak, so they hugged in silence.
When it was Teresa’s turn, she twisted herself in Nanna’s skirts, which smelt of pasta sauce and puddings. ‘I don’t want to leave you.’
‘You and I have a special bond that can never be broken.’
‘I’m scared,’ Teresa whispered.
‘You are from the George Cross island, the country with the bravest people in the world, and you need to be braver than ever. When you get on that ship, you will have the whole world in front of you.’
‘I don’t want the whole world, I want you.’
Nanna took her gold cross from her neck and fastened it around Teresa’s. ‘Every time you need me, just touch this and know I am thinking about you.’
Teresa held her tight. She heard her nanna sniff, trying desperately not to cry. She felt her father’s strong hands gently peel her away. ‘We have to leave.’
George’s mother kissed both her cheeks. ‘You’re like my daughter, you know that?’ She didn’t bother to hide her crying. ‘You will make us so proud in Australia, I just know it.’
The ship’s horn sounded again. Passengers around them scrambled to gather bags and hurry aboard. It was time to say goodbye to George. The two friends stood facing each other. For a few moments, everything seemed to go quiet and Teresa felt all the turmoil of the dock melt away, leaving only them.
‘I bought you this.’ George reached into his bag and handed her a letter writing set tied with a ribbon. ‘Write to me so I feel like I’m there with you.’
Teresa couldn’t speak, so she just nodded.
‘You have to take every opportunity to be great. For both of us.’ George pointed at her and frowned. ‘If you don’t, I’ll be so angry with you.’
Teresa smiled. ‘When did you become so bossy?’
‘Just now that I realise you’re really leaving.’
Teresa flung her arms around his neck. ‘Promise you’ll never forget me.’
‘That’s the easiest promise I’ll ever make.’
The ship’s horn echoed across the harbour. Teresa didn’t want to let go. She knew the moment she took her arms away, it would be over and she might never see George again.
‘All aboard!’
‘Can I ask you a favour?’
‘Anything.’
‘Can I use your paper to write letters to Nanna and would you read them to her? I don’t want her to worry about us.’
‘I’ll read her every one.’
What happened next was a blur. Teresa’s parents gave George and his mother a final hug, bags were gathered, goodbyes were called, kisses blown, and they were hurrying up the gangway. They squeezed through the bustling crowd and finally found a spot on the deck. Teresa’s parents stood behind her while she held the railing with one hand and clutched the letter writing set with the other.
The horn sounded once again. Dock workers uncoiled ropes from moorings and crew hauled them on board in frantic bursts. Soon the ship was slowly moving away from the wharf.
Beneath her was a sea of people waving hankies and crying. Teresa spotted Mrs Falzon, the children from her school, the women from the village and Father Raymond. People she’d known all her life.
And George. He was held between Nanna and his mother. She kept them in her sights for as long as she could, until they were lost in the crowd.
Her mama hugged her tight and whispered in her ear, ‘You will never forget what has been. All the people you love, the house you grew up in and the places you used to play, they’re safely tucked inside you for the rest of your life.’
The ship sailed through the breakwaters of the Grand Harbour and into the open sea. Teresa clutched Nanna’s cross and stared at the rocky coast with its stone churches, forts and houses huddled together in long rows. They passed fishing boats, children swimming in the bay and people waving from balconies and rooftops.
She watched the golden, cathedral-like cliffs of her home grow smaller and smaller until they disappeared, leaving an endless, rolling sea.
Teresa and Mama struggled to carry their bags between long rows of narrow camp beds filled with bouncing children and bulging suitcases women were attempting to unpack.
‘I still don’t understand why we can’t stay with Papa.’
‘The decks below are for the men, and the women and children sleep here,’ Mama explained again.
She found two beds together and set her bag down with a sigh. ‘This will be fun,’ she said with a forced smile. ‘Like we’re going on a great adventure.’
Teresa sank on to her bed. It was hard and sat beneath a gloomy stream of light that trickled in through a grubby porthole. Everything smelt salty and damp.
Her mama sat beside her. ‘Sometimes we need to take a big step for great things to happen. Why don’t you go outside and explore? You might make a new friend.’
Teresa didn’t want to make new friends. She had friends at home. Friends she’d left behind.
But she also didn’t want to be stuck inside with its noise and darkness, so she picked herself up, ducked beneath flying arms and bed sheets and made her way to the deck. Men had gathered in groups and women nursed babies on their hips or sunned themselves in deckchairs while streams of children played chasey, tearing around barrels and under swinging lifeboats.
There were people everywhere, but Teresa had never felt more alone.
The only other person who seemed out of place was a young girl wrapped in a blanket on a deckchair. A woman was leaning over her and talking, but the girl stared silently out to sea.
Teresa turned her back against it all and gripped the railing. The sea churned far beneath her in an endless crash of waves. She kept seeing George on the dock looking up at her. She had never seen him so sad. Her chest ached at the thought, as if she’d been struck. As the ship had drifted from the wharf, he had pretended to draw in the air, reminding her to write.
Then he blew her a kiss.
She could still see him so clearly, as if it was happening right in front of her. She closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds when …
‘Ouch!’
A young boy bumped into her before running after a group of other children.
‘Charlie! Be careful!’ The woman sitt
ing with the young girl jumped to her feet and hurried over. ‘I’m sorry about that. They’re excited about being on a ship. Are you okay?’
Teresa nodded. ‘Are they all your children?’
‘Heavens, no, they’re orphans. I’m Rebecca, their guardian. It’s my job to make sure they travel from England to Australia safely.’ She sighed. ‘Which might be harder than I thought.’
Teresa looked over at the girl on the deckchair. ‘Is she an orphan too?’
Rebecca nodded. ‘Anna’s parents were killed in the war.’
‘What happened?’
‘She was one of the many children sent to the country to escape the bombing, but while she was there the London blitz destroyed her neighbourhood. There were no survivors, and Anna has barely spoken a word since.’
Two boys fell into a rumble on the deck. ‘Sorry, I’d better go.’
As Rebecca broke up the fight, Teresa’s eyes drifted back to Anna. Passengers passed by her as if she were invisible. Teresa wondered what it would be like to be all alone in the world, with only strangers to look after you.
It was then three boys surrounded Anna’s chair. Laughing and pointing at her. Circling their fingers around their ears as if she was mad.
Teresa marched over and stood before them with her hands firmly on her hips. ‘Stop that now or you will be thrown off this ship.’
The boys looked at each other and burst out laughing. ‘And how will you do that?’ the tallest one challenged.
‘I won’t,’ Teresa said, savouring every moment. ‘My papa will.’
‘How can your father throw us off this ship?’
‘He’s the captain.’
The boys’ smiles fell. ‘No, he isn’t.’
‘He is. And the government of Australia has ordered that if any children misbehave on this ship, they’ll be put in a rowboat and left at sea.’
The boys paused. ‘He wouldn’t do that.’
Teresa: A New Australian Page 4