Teresa stared at it warily, unsure what it was.
‘It’s a frankfurter. You can eat it just like that.’
Teresa took a careful bite, before nodding. ‘It tastes good.’
The butcher laughed a big booming laugh. ‘Glad you like it. My name’s Bill. You come back here any time. Anyone who helped the Allies win the war will always be welcome in my shop.’
The rich, tomatoey smell of rabbit stew made Teresa’s head feel light. She was sure she’d faint with hunger if Papa didn’t arrive soon, and when she finally heard a key in the lock she ran to open the door. Her papa held a bunch of daisies in one hand and a pile of newspapers in the other.
‘There are my beautiful girls!’
He handed the flowers to Teresa’s mama with a kiss and inhaled a long breath over the pot on the stove. ‘Rabbit stew! Perfect for celebrating.’ He kissed his daughter on the head.
‘What are we celebrating?’ Teresa asked.
He stood tall with his chest pushed out. ‘That your papa starts work tomorrow morning.’
‘You got a job?’ Her mama almost squealed.
‘I’m going to work in a factory making kitchen appliances.’
Teresa frowned. ‘What’s a kitchen appliance?’
‘Small machines to make toast and mix cakes. I told them we’d never had an appliance but that I was good with my hands and a quick learner, and when I showed them my papers, they gave me the job right there.’
‘I have good news too,’ Mama said. ‘I have an interview tomorrow as a cleaner.’
The light flickered overhead and Papa looked up. ‘Which means soon we’ll have enough money to move somewhere better.’
‘Why do you have so many newspapers?’ Teresa asked.
‘I almost forgot!’ He laid the papers on the table. ‘Because my daughter is on the front page.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, with that man you met when we arrived. He’s the Immigration Minister.’ Her papa shook his head. ‘I knew my little girl would make a good impression – I just never knew it would be so soon.’
Teresa stared at the photo of Mr Calwell shaking her hand in front of the ship.
Her papa cupped her face with his hands. ‘You are going to have so much more than you ever could have had in Malta. You might even be prime minister one day.’
‘Papa!’ Teresa laughed. ‘You’re being silly.’
‘Why not? In this country, if you work hard enough, you can be whatever you like.’ He suddenly became serious. ‘I know it was hard for you to leave Nanna and George, but sometimes doing the right thing means making sacrifices. Everything we do from now on is to make them proud. Okay?’
Teresa nodded. ‘Yes, Papa.’
‘Now let’s celebrate!’
‘Your papa and I are leaving now,’ Mama whispered as she helped her drowsy daughter into their bed. ‘I’ve left breakfast and a key on the table. But don’t go out and don’t open the door to anyone. I’ll be home by lunchtime.’
Teresa rolled over and fell asleep so fast she didn’t even hear the door shut behind her mother.
But only a short time later, she was woken by a man yelling.
‘Get down! All of you, get down!’
The voice was muffled but she could still hear it loud and clear.
Teresa knelt on the bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin.
‘They’re coming to get us!’
‘Shhh,’ a gentler voice said. ‘It’s okay. They’re not real.’
‘Of course they’re real. They’re right there!’
A terrible crash vibrated through the walls as if something had been hurled across a room. ‘Can’t you see ’em? They’re right in front of you.’
Teresa flinched as another great thud pounded the floor.
Her skin prickled with fear.
There was a brief pause followed by an anguished cry.
Teresa leapt from the bed and ran into the kitchen. She snatched up the key and slammed the door behind her. She flew down the stairs two at a time, not stopping to look back.
Standing on the footpath, with cars whooshing past and people rushing to work, she tried to remember the way to the milk bar. If she made it there, she could ask the man behind the counter to use his phone and call her mother.
Wearing only her nightdress, she zig-zagged through a crush of suits and swishing dresses, but the further she walked, the less familiar everything seemed. Maybe this was the wrong way. She hurried into another street she thought she recognised, but nothing looked right. She wasn’t sure whether to go left or right or if she should turn back.
She wandered into one street after another, but each way she looked, she felt hopelessly lost.
A horn blasted. A delivery truck lurched into the narrow street and was rumbling straight towards her. Its grinding engine echoed off the grimy bricks and windows.
Teresa jumped aside and crouched in a doorway. The noise grew louder and the ground shook beneath her.
She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her head in her arms.
For the first time since the war ended, she felt as if it was still raging. She worried that if she looked up, she’d see the German planes swooping low, getting ready to drop their bombs and strafe the streets with their machine guns.
She saw images of broken buildings and homes.
Of people running in panic.
She saw a limp boy dangling from his mother’s arms.
She struggled to breathe.
The truck was barely inches away, its engine roaring and scraping.
She kept her eyes shut, wanting it all to stop, and flinched as something cold and wet sprayed against her.
Slowly, the truck passed and the noise faded.
Teresa raised her head and opened her eyes. The nightdress Nanna had given her was splattered with muddy flecks. Her chest heaved as she struggled not to cry.
That was when she felt something nudging her leg. She peered over her knees and saw it.
A black, furry rat was chewing her hem.
She sprang from the doorway and ran.
Dodging garbage cans and milk crates, Teresa broke into a run, hurrying around a corner when she slammed into a woman with a shopping bag.
‘Whoa, you’re in a hurry. Is there a fire?’
The woman’s smile faded when she saw Teresa’s spoiled nightdress and teary face. ‘Oh, there’s no need to cry.’ She reached into her pocket for a hanky.
As Teresa wiped her eyes, the woman said, ‘I know you. You moved here a few days ago with your mother and father. I have a friend who lives in your building. Are you lost?’
Teresa heard Mama’s voice telling her not to go out.
‘My name is Lucy. Would you like me to take you home? I’m going there now.’
Teresa nodded.
‘It’s this way.’
They walked in silence for a few steps.
‘Where are your parents?’
‘Working.’
‘So what are you doing out here on your own?’
‘I heard a man screaming so I ran away.’
Lucy sighed. ‘I’m sorry you were frightened. That’s my friend. His name is Albert. He was a soldier in the war. He’s a good man but he saw some terrible things his mind won’t let him forget. Sometimes it’s like he’s still back in the war, reliving the worst moments over and over again.’
‘What did he see?’
Lucy shrugged. ‘He doesn’t talk about it.’
‘And that’s why he’s angry?’
‘I know it seems like he’s angry, but he’s really just scared.’
‘Of what?’
‘Mostly that he’ll never be able to forget.’
‘Does it happen a lot?’
Lucy smiled. ‘He has good days and bad days.’
‘Aren’t you scared of him?’
‘No. Albert is actually a very gentle man who fought for his country. Now he has nightmares and is frightened of going outside. I hel
p out by buying his groceries.’ She held up her bag. ‘That’s where I was just now.’
She stopped. ‘And here we are.’
Teresa had been so caught up in Albert’s story, she hadn’t realised they’d reached their building. Lucy climbed the stairs to the flat with her.
‘It was nice to meet you, and please don’t worry about Albert – he would never hurt anyone. Especially a child. It’s hard for us to understand how he feels, but maybe, if enough people are kind to him, one day he’ll be able to forget the war.’
When Teresa’s mama came home, she made a special lunch of spaghetti with fresh, crunchy bread. Even though it was one of Teresa’s favourite meals, she twirled the spaghetti around her fork and hardly ate a thing.
‘I’ve never been in such a grand house,’ Mama said. ‘There were three floors, a swimming pool and a room with glass walls that overlooked the harbour. Mrs Carlton wants me to work two days a week and she said if I do a good job, she’ll tell all her friends.’
Teresa nudged the spaghetti with her fork.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Oh yes there is, or you’d have finished that spaghetti by now.’
‘There’s a soldier who lives down the hall, and after you left he started yelling as if he was still in the war. Like he was being attacked.’
Her mother’s face clouded. ‘It’s called battle fatigue. It’s affected many soldiers. It’s like being injured, but you have no scars or broken bones so it’s much harder to treat. It gives them as much pain as a real injury, sometimes more.’ She suddenly looked alarmed. ‘Did he try to come in?’
‘No, but he sounded very scared. Will it happen to Papa?’
Mama gently took her hand. ‘No. He sometimes has bad dreams, mostly about friends he lost during the war, but Maltese soldiers were luckier than others because they never had to fight the Germans on the ground. Other soldiers had to face enemy in trenches. Who knows what that man saw to make him act like this?’
‘Will he ever get better?’
‘Hopefully, but it will take time.’
Dear Nanna,
Mama came home last night with exciting news. She spoke to the local Catholic school and they said I can start when term begins! We went straight out to buy my uniform and a new schoolbag and pencils.
Mama has done such a good job cleaning Mrs Carlton’s home that she now cleans houses for four of her friends. Sometimes she takes me with her if the owners don’t mind. Some of the houses are like castles! Papa has been working really hard too. He now has two jobs. During the day he builds houses and at night he works in a factory. He has Sundays off, which is our family day. Last Sunday we caught a ferry to Manly beach and had a picnic.
I say my prayers every night, just like you taught me. I still wish every day you were here with us.
Love and kisses,
Teresa xox
There it was. Outside the door.
Heavy, dragging thuds on the stairs, as if someone was dragging a weighty sack. Teresa jumped up from the table and squinted through the peephole into the hall.
It was Albert. She’d been trying for days to get up the courage to say hello, but each time she heard his heavy steps, her fingers seemed to freeze on the door handle and then it would be too late.
His shoulders were hunched over and his head hung low. His cardigan was crumpled, with the buttons threaded into the wrong holes. The hems of his trousers were frayed, and his long greying hair made it hard to see his face.
Teresa remembered Lucy’s words about being nice to him.
And about not being scared.
He reached the top of the stairs. If she didn’t go out now, she’d miss her chance again.
She took a deep breath and opened the door.
‘Good morning, Mr Donovan.’
Albert was startled and dropped the newspaper tucked under his arm.
Teresa picked it up for him.
‘What?’ Albert stared at her as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.
‘I said … good morning.’
He frowned. ‘What do you want?’
Teresa shrugged. ‘Nothing. I wanted to say hello.’ She held the paper higher. ‘And give back your newspaper.’
Albert took it and turned his back, putting his key into the lock.
He was about to go inside when he mumbled, ‘Good morning.’
The door closed and Teresa heard Albert bolting it shut.
She smiled. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
After that, there were more brief greetings, followed by Teresa and her mama leaving homemade cakes by his door with a note that read: For Mr Donovan, from the Fontana family at No 6.
When they did this, Teresa would wait by her door, spying through the peephole, until he finally came out. She saw him look around before slowly bending to pick up the cakes. He frowned at first when he read the note, but then, just before he went back inside, she saw the smallest beginnings of a smile.
Teresa stood in the playground of her new school. Her mama had ironed her uniform and brushed her hair into two plaits tied with royal blue ribbons. Her papa had asked his boss for the morning off and polished Teresa’s shoes so well that she could almost see her face shining back at her.
‘How do I look?’
‘Perfect,’ Mama answered.
Her papa knelt before her. ‘Work hard and listen carefully to everything your teacher says.’ He blinked away a tear and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘We’re so proud of you.’
A few boys walked past and laughed.
The bell rang and Teresa hugged her parents a final time.
‘Good luck,’ Papa waved. ‘I want to hear all about it tonight.’
She climbed the steps and disappeared into the rush of children filing into the main entrance.
‘Everyone, this is Teresa. She’s new to our school, and our country, so I expect all of you to make her feel welcome.’
Sister Josephine was a thin, bird-like woman with black glasses perched on the end of her nose. She pointed to an empty chair. ‘You may sit with Amanda.’
The girl hunched over in her chair as if she was trying to disappear. Teresa took a seat beside her and the two exchanged a brief smile.
Sister Josephine clapped her hands. ‘Let’s get to work.’
Teresa listened carefully, just as Papa had told her, but she didn’t always understand because everyone seemed to speak through their noses and in a great hurry.
Sister Josephine began handing out worksheets.
‘As you’ll all remember, our mathematics champion from last term was Henry.’
A boy jumped up and performed a low and exaggerated bow to class applause.
‘Let’s see if anyone can beat him or if Henry’s reign will continue.’ She gave out the last of the papers and announced, ‘You may begin.’
All heads bent over their tests. Henry smiled, confident that victory was his. The only other smile, which was equally as confident, was Teresa’s when she saw the list of multiplication questions and got straight to work. Years of reciting times tables in the shelters in Malta meant she finished faster than anyone and she even had time to double check her answers.
They were set another task while Sister Josephine marked their work. When she’d finished, she had some surprising news.
‘It looks like we have a new champion.’ Whispers flurried around the room guessing who it might be. ‘Can you all please congratulate Teresa?’
Teresa stood up and bowed low, just as Henry had done. Everyone in the class clapped, apart from Henry, who didn’t seem happy at all that this new girl had taken his place.
And was making fun of him.
Teresa held her paper and beamed at the perfect score on her first test in Australia. She couldn’t wait to tell her papa.
Nearby, Henry scowled. ‘Show-off,’ he whispered.
When Sister Josephine announced their next lesson was in the library, Teresa made her way to the
door along with her classmates.
Henry leapt to his feet the moment she passed and shoved her into the wall. He leant in and spoke slowly as if Teresa couldn’t understand English. ‘Sor-ry. It was an acci-dent.’
Teresa rubbed her shoulder as Henry strode to the head of the line, laughing with his friends.
‘Are you okay?’ Amanda asked.
Teresa nodded and took her place at the end of the line.
When they entered the library, she stared open-mouthed at the long rows of shelves. She had never seen so many books in one place. There must have been hundreds. Maybe thousands. Even before the war in Malta, her school never had a library. Not even close. And now she had this.
‘Are you going to join us?’
The librarian had settled the class, who were now staring at Teresa. She was a small, plump woman with grey curly hair and instantly reminded Teresa of her nanna.
‘She can’t speak English,’ Henry said. ‘She’s one of those I-ties.’
A few of the children laughed.
She waited until the laughter stopped. ‘We don’t say that word, Henry. It isn’t very nice. We say Italian.’
‘Same thing.’ He shrugged.
‘Not at all,’ the librarian said carefully. ‘One is a statement of fact, the other is just plain mean.’
She glared at Henry until his smirk faded.
Amanda wriggled over and Teresa sat on the rug beside her.
‘I am Maltese,’ she said quietly.
‘I’m sorry, dear?’
‘I am not from Italy. I’m from Malta and I speak English. My name is Teresa.’
‘My name is Mrs Swan, and it is a pleasure to have you in our class.’
She put on her glasses, which hung from her neck, and picked up a book beside her. ‘And now it’s time to find out what Tom and Huck have been up to.’
‘My papa and I have read that book!’ Teresa cried. ‘It’s our favourite.’
‘We don’t call out in class, Teresa.’ Mrs Swan tried to hold back a smile. ‘And we definitely don’t give away the story. Okay?’
Teresa nodded and leant forward as Mrs Swan began to read the final chapter. She put on a new voice for each character so that Teresa felt as if they were right there with her in the library, right up until the very last line.
Teresa: A New Australian Page 7