Teresa: A New Australian

by Abela, Deborah

  Albert jumped, his face stricken with terror. He stumbled, desperately searching around him, when it happened again.

  ‘It’s okay, Mr Donovan.’ Teresa tried to hold his arm but he dashed onto the road. A car swerved, just missing him. Another screeched to a halt only centimetres away.

  The horn blared. The driver leant out the window and shook his fist. ‘What are ya trying to do, get killed?’

  Albert spun round, not knowing which way to run.

  More cars stopped. Horns blasted.

  ‘Mr Donovan!’ Teresa called from the kerb, but he couldn’t hear her over all the confusion and noise.

  He fell to his knees in the middle of the street and curled into a ball, his hands pressed against his ears and his eyes shut tight.

  Teresa ran between the cars and crouched beside him. ‘I’m here, Mr Donovan.’

  She tried to pull him to his feet but he wouldn’t budge.

  ‘Mr Donovan,’ Teresa said, trying to sound calm, ‘you need to get off the road or you’ll get hurt.’

  More cars honked.

  ‘Please, Mr Donovan.’

  All he could manage were short panicked breaths.

  She remembered being in the bomb shelter when she couldn’t breathe and thought she was going to die. She remembered what George had said to her and gently peeled Albert’s hand from his ear. ‘You need to breathe slowly. Give the air a chance to reach your lungs.’

  People stopped and stared. Cars honked.

  ‘Long, deep breaths. Come on, you can do it.’

  Albert’s breathing slowed a little.

  ‘That’s it. That’s better.’

  Teresa rose to her feet. ‘If you come with me you’ll be safe, I promise.’

  Albert was shaking. He reached out and gripped her hand. With unsteady steps he made it to the kerb and into the park, where the clamour of the traffic fell away.

  He slumped to the grass, wrapped his arms round his legs and sobbed.

  Teresa put her arm around his shoulders.

  ‘It is all right, Mr Donovan. I’m here.’

  She wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but as others stared or walked past quickly, trying to pretend they couldn’t see a grown man crying in public, Teresa stayed by his side.

  Slowly Albert calmed down. He lifted his head from his arms as if he was completely worn out.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘It’s no way for a man to act, is it?’

  ‘It is for someone who’s been to war. Mama’s a nurse and she said it happens to lots of soldiers. She says what happened in the war is like an injury that can’t be seen, but hurts just as much.’

  Albert turned to face her, as if no one had ever explained it like this before.

  ‘Papa was in the army and sometimes he has nightmares too.’

  ‘He does?’

  Teresa nodded. ‘And when we first arrived here, the sound of a truck made me so scared because it felt as if I was back in the bomb shelters.’

  ‘You were bombed?’

  ‘For three years. Malta was a mess. That’s why we came to Australia.’

  ‘And your friends?’

  ‘We left them all behind.’

  They sat in silence.

  ‘I’m sorry I brought you here,’ Teresa said. ‘Lucy told me you don’t like to go outside, but I thought if I came with you … then maybe …’

  Albert sighed, ‘I did too.’

  ‘How old are you, Mr Donovan?’

  He had to think. ‘Thirty-one last birthday.’

  ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but that’s too young to stay inside all the time.’

  ‘But you’ve heard me when I get … and you saw me just then.’

  ‘It seems a shame, that’s all.’

  Albert smiled weakly. ‘Maybe you’re right.’ He looked up at the park bustling with laughing children and women pushing strollers.

  He took a deep breath. ‘You know the picture you saw in my flat? They were my army friends, like you said. We did everything together. Fought together. Ate together. I was closer to those blokes than my own family.’ He looked away. ‘We joined up together. But I was the only one to come home.’

  ‘You lost all your friends?’

  ‘Every one.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘We were fighting in France. Camped in a forest outside a small village. One night we heard a noise in the trees. We raised our guns ready to shoot but it was only a small boy. He was shivering and out of breath. He kept repeating the same thing over and over. One of my mates knew some French and worked out that the Germans had captured a teacher and her students. They were going to send them away.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘A concentration camp.’

  Teresa didn’t understand.

  ‘A place where they’d be killed.’

  ‘Why would they want to kill children?’

  ‘Because they were Jewish,’ Albert said. ‘Back then, some people thought the world would be better without them.’

  ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘You’re right. It doesn’t. And that’s why we had to help. The boy led us to the village. Everything was quiet. Shutters were closed, doors locked. German armoured cars sat in front of the school. I told the boy to go home. He stared at me, tears rolling down his face. He hugged me, like he didn’t want to let go. Then he ran. I gave the signal and we moved in.’

  Albert took a quick breath.

  ‘That’s when it happened. There was a small click. I don’t remember much after that, except the blackness.’

  ‘What happened?’ Teresa asked.

  ‘Land mine.’ He barely whispered. ‘It was a trap, and I led my men straight into it.’

  ‘The boy lied about the teacher and the children?’

  ‘The Germans probably threatened him and his family. That’s why he looked so scared. He wouldn’t have had a choice.’

  ‘But you survived?’

  ‘I woke up in a barn. There was a little girl kneeling beside me. I looked around for the others. When she shook her head I knew they were gone. The girl and her family looked after me until I could walk again and then they smuggled me out in a hay wagon. If they’d been caught, they would have been killed.’

  ‘They saved your life?’

  ‘Yes, but you know the worst part? That family risked all they had and my mates lost their lives but I was the one who got a medal for bravery.’

  ‘I think you were brave.’

  He looked up at some children playing on a set of swings crying out to be pushed higher.

  They sat in the cool breeze with the noise of the busy streets around them.

  ‘I’m ready to go home now,’ Albert said. ‘Could you stay with me?’

  Teresa held his hand tight. ‘I’ll be here every step.’

  Teresa thought that after Henry snatched her bag and caused her to fall on the road, he would leave her alone.

  She was wrong.

  Her satchel bumped against her leg as she ran home from school. Henry and Jack’s shoes smacked into the footpath behind her, gaining on her with every step.

  ‘Don’t let the enemy get away!’

  ‘Come on, men, get ’er!’

  Teresa felt something strike her shoulder, leaving a sharp, stinging pain. A rock bounced onto the path.

  ‘Good shot!’

  She ran faster as another rock struck her arm.

  She heard them laugh and cheer as another one hit her leg.

  The rocks hurt like fire. The next one struck her head, causing a terrible ringing.

  Finally, she heard a different voice.

  ‘You boys cut that out or I’ll call the police!’

  The rocks stopped flying but Teresa kept running. She didn’t slow down until she reached her building. She was shaking so badly she had to use both hands to open the foyer door.

  Once inside, she leant her whole body against it to make sure it was shut. Her chest ached and her legs trembl
ed. She could see red welts forming on her skin.

  Each one stung.

  Each one reminded her she didn’t belong.

  With almost no energy left, she dragged herself up the stairs to her floor.

  ‘You’re back.’ Albert had been waiting for her, but his smile faded at the sight of the red marks. ‘Who did this? Was it that boy?’

  Teresa melted into tears. Her sobs echoed off the walls.

  Albert watched as her body shook, unsure what to do. He stepped forward, raised his arms and carefully gave her a hug.

  Teresa’s sobs were muffled by his cardigan.

  ‘They’ve got no right,’ Albert said. ‘Something has to be done.’

  ‘Please don’t tell my parents.’ She sniffed. ‘It will make them so sad.’

  ‘What will you do about it?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’ll think of something.’

  While Mama folded ricotta cheese into pastry to make pastizzis, Teresa set the table. She wore long sleeves and pants to hide the welts, which were now purplish-brown bruises.

  ‘And how was your day?’

  ‘Good.’ Teresa’s face flushed pink. She couldn’t tell Mama about the rocks but she was in no mood to make up stories about how happy she was at school.

  Her mama straightened. ‘Has something happened?’

  Teresa kept seeing Henry and Jack chasing her, only stopping to pick up even more rocks.

  ‘No.’ She hoped Mama couldn’t hear the lie.

  It wasn’t until Teresa reached up to get the plates from the cupboard that her sleeve slipped and Mama saw the bruises.

  ‘Santa Marijia!’ She gently took her daughter’s arm and pushed the sleeves higher. ‘Who did this?’

  Teresa shook her head. ‘Just some children. They don’t usually throw rocks, they …’

  ‘It has happened before?’

  ‘Not like this.’

  ‘What do they do?’

  ‘Just call me names. After school I wait in the library until they’re gone but today Mrs Swan had to leave early and …’ She looked up at Mama, her eyes desperately questioning. ‘I don’t know why they do it. I haven’t done anything wrong.’

  Her mama pulled her in close. ‘Of course you haven’t.’

  ‘Please don’t tell Papa,’ Teresa pleaded.

  ‘This has to stop.’

  ‘Please. They said if I told anyone they’d make it worse.’

  Teresa was almost asleep when her papa came home. He tiptoed on the other side of the curtain they’d hung between the table and Teresa’s makeshift bed. Her whole body tensed as she heard Mama’s whispered voice. Her papa answered in hushed replies.

  Maybe she wouldn’t tell him. Maybe she’d keep it a secret.

  ‘They did what?’ There was the clang of cutlery as it hit the plate. ‘Who are they?’

  Her mama tried to quieten him, but a chair scraped against the floor. Teresa pulled her blankets higher, pretending she was asleep as her curtain was swept aside.

  ‘Teresa.’ Her papa sat beside her but she lay still. ‘Teresa.’ He placed his hand on her shoulder.

  She groaned and slowly rolled over. ‘Yes, Papa?’

  ‘Show me your arms.’ He looked angry.

  ‘Please, Papa, don’t –’

  ‘Show me your arms,’ he repeated.

  Teresa sat up and lifted her sleeves. Her father’s eyes filled with tears. He was silent for the longest time until he said, ‘I will teach them a lesson.’

  ‘No, Papa. It will make it worse. Please don’t.’ Teresa cried against his shirt, which smelt of machine oil and grease.

  He held her tight and stroked her hair. ‘I didn’t take you from your home to be treated like this. Tomorrow morning I will come to your school and I will fix this.’

  The meeting had been brief. The headmaster nodded with a serious scowl and made promises to take the matter in hand.

  Teresa barely heard a word.

  She couldn’t.

  Not since Henry and Jack had seen her walk in with her parents and march straight to the office.

  Sister Josephine was called in next.

  More words were said.

  More heads nodded.

  The room felt airless and the walls seemed to be closing in. Teresa began to feel dizzy.

  Her papa waved his arms and raised his voice.

  Teresa hoped she wouldn’t be sick and spotted the bin in case she was.

  Her uniform felt too tight. Her collar was choking and her shoes squished her toes.

  All the adults looked her way.

  ‘Okay, Teresa?’ the headmaster asked.

  They all wanted an answer but she hadn’t heard a thing.

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  When she went to class, Henry and Jack’s chairs were empty. Sister Josephine handed out the next mathematics test and wished everyone good luck.

  Teresa couldn’t focus.

  Or sit still.

  Her skin itched as if it was crawling with ants. She scratched at her arms until they were a mess of red streaks.

  When Henry and Jack came into the room, she felt as if two hands had grabbed her throat.

  Jack slumped in his chair. His eyes were red.

  Henry walked slowly past Teresa’s chair. She held her breath. He said nothing but she could feel his anger in each step.

  He was quiet during the rest of the day – in fact he barely opened his mouth unless he was called on.

  Teresa wanted more than ever to be home in Malta with George and Nanna and Mrs Falzon and the children in her class. As far from Australia with its bullies and name-calling and angry drunken men as she could get. Away from –

  The bell for the end of school cut through her thoughts.

  She felt a surge of panic.

  The classroom filled with the usual chaos of leaving but her fingers shook as she packed her bag. Her legs felt so weak, she worried she wouldn’t make it to the gate without falling.

  The schoolyard was a blur of laughing and running and bouncing balls. With each step her stomach twisted further.

  Whatever Henry and Jack had planned before, it would now be worse.

  She was sure of it.

  Children streamed into the playground. They ran to catch up with friends or jumped on scooters. Mothers waited outside the gate. Teresa watched her classmates run into their arms.

  She watched it all as a stranger. Someone who wasn’t invited and never would be.

  Then she saw someone else.

  Her heart thudded.

  She squinted to make sure it was him.

  Albert!

  He was waiting behind all the other parents, wearing his army uniform. He’d brushed his hair too, only this time he’d managed to comb it all neatly into place. He nervously searched the yard.

  Teresa waved and broke into a run.

  ‘What are you doing here? Are you okay?’

  ‘I think so.’ He sounded shaky. ‘I thought about what you said. About me being brave, but really all I do is hide away from everyone while you face those bullies alone. When I was with my mates, the world felt safer, so I thought if you and I walked home together, the same thing would happen.’

  ‘But you hate being outside.’

  Albert shrugged. ‘Someone once told me I was too young to stay inside all the time and she’s right. Shall we walk?’

  Teresa nodded and slipped her hand into his.

  She kept glancing at Albert as cars passed and a bus clunked its gears. He flinched when children screamed and scooted in front of them playing chasey.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Teresa asked.

  Albert nodded and tried his best to look calm. ‘They can be noisy, can’t they?’

  ‘It’s always like this at home time.’

  They hadn’t been walking long when Albert spied two sets of school shoes poking out from beneath a bush.

  ‘Is that them?’

  Teresa’s face paled. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Don’t wo
rry. I’ll sort them out.’

  Albert straightened and pulled his shoulders back. He looked instantly taller and stronger. Teresa slowed down but he gripped her hand tighter. ‘It’s okay. I’m here.’

  As they got closer, Henry and Jack jumped out blasting cap guns but stopped short when they saw Albert.

  ‘Trying to surprise us, boys?’ Albert’s voice was deep and commanding. Teresa had never heard him like this. ‘Saw your shoes from a mile away. You’ll have to do better than that if you want to sneak up on someone.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Henry stared at Albert’s uniform. ‘Are you a soldier?’

  ‘Lieutenant Albert Benjamin Donovan.’

  ‘Did you fight in the war?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Me and a couple of other blokes.’

  Henry pointed at Teresa. ‘And you know her?’

  Albert lifted his head proudly. ‘Teresa and I are good friends.’

  ‘You are?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Not only that, but Teresa’s papa fought in the war too.’

  ‘He did not.’ Henry scowled.

  ‘He was a gunner helping the British defeat the Germans in one of the war’s heaviest bombing raids.’

  ‘Do you have anything from the war you can show us?’ Henry asked.

  Albert thought. ‘I have a bullet casing and my army knife.’

  ‘Can we see them?’ Henry asked.

  ‘Will you be here tomorrow?’

  The boys nodded eagerly.

  ‘Good-oh. But you’ll want to tuck in those shirts. Army would never stand for scruffiness.’

  The boys did as they were told.

  ‘Good lads,’ Albert said. ‘Better get home, then. Your mothers will be waiting for you.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  And just like that, they picked up their bags and left.

  Albert smiled as he watched them leave. ‘I’ll be here every afternoon so they never bother you again. I promise.’

  Teresa blinked away tears. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No.’ Albert shook his head. ‘It’s this old man who should be thanking you.’

  From that day on, school for Teresa changed.

  Henry and Jack no longer bothered her, and the other children no longer thought they’d catch diseases from her. Now that Sister Josephine had worked out why Teresa hadn’t done well since her first mathematics test, she pointed a stern finger and said, ‘It’s my job to worry about the other students and your job to do your best. Agreed?’