For Teddy, the sight of her personal items made her seem real for the first time, living on the same farm, seventy years earlier. Teddy looked up to see Will watching her, the cool breeze ruffling his hair.
A soft jumble of white satin was resting across Deirdre’s knees.
‘Damn it!’ She was pretty handy with a sewing machine generally, but for some reason her needle kept snapping – the feeder seemed to be going too slowly. She replaced it and tried again, pressing carefully on the metal pedal of the Singer sewing machine then gathering a little more speed as the tension on the cotton remained firm, not tight. ‘It’s working!’ she called to Viv, who was getting some starching done in the laundry.
‘Then don’t stop!’ she called back. ‘You’ll upset it again!’ Deirdre kept her foot moving up and down, and the needle plunged in and out of the white fabric. A seam was forming, a perfect seam. It was going to run all the way down the back of her ball gown to the floor and she was going to look like Elizabeth Taylor. Deirdre loved the sight of a perfect seam. She loved the perfect scoop of a neckline or when the cut of fabric fitted her bust and held her waist firmly. The gown was another of her own designs, and she was proud of its glamorous silhouette; it was just like the dresses in the films. She ran her hand down the cool satin and imagined Harry doing the same. Then she allowed herself to imagine them there at the ball together, walking proudly up to the dignitaries as her name was announced.
She imagined her curtsey, and the waltz they would complete when she had been presented. There would be an orchestra playing, and the air would be scented with roses and frangipani. Harry would be wearing a tuxedo, his hair slicked back like Clark Gable, and when he looked at her he would fall in love with her. No, he would fall desperately in love with her and he would see that she didn’t belong here in this dusty little town. She was made for other things, for better things.
He would probably be moved to kiss her, right there on the dance floor, and he’d lean down to her intimately and her heart and her eyelashes would flutter simultaneously. Then they would kiss, to the disapproval of the old biddies on the supper table, and the whole world would know they were in love.
The Singer stalled. ‘Bloody thing!’ she snapped and stood up so she didn’t do something she’d regret. ‘Hey Viv! Can you come and look at it?’ she called.
‘Coming!’ Viv shouted back. ‘Just be gentle with the belt, we’re already using the spare.’
‘Keep it down out there!’ It was their father, who had been sleeping off a bottle of brandy in his room. They glanced at each other uneasily. He was mostly asleep until midday. At night he spent his time drinking in the lounge room, or on the verandah if the night was warm, but in the morning he disappeared into his cave to sleep it off – until he woke and filled his throat with so much hair of the dog it threatened to choke him. The girls were used to his absence. It was a daily relief, and they knew how loud they could be without rousing him; when he woke they knew what they could discuss in front of him to avoid making him angry, and how to placate him if they did.
‘Sorry, Dad,’ Deirdre said clearly. ‘I know you’re trying to sleep.’
It worked best if they pretended he was tired from a day of hard work on the farm. They never referred to the excuse; it was implied. Dad needs his rest, Dad’s just trying to catch up on his sleep. There’s a lot going on at the moment. Harvest is coming up. Seeding will be here soon if it rains next week . . .
And their father, their shame, slumbered on, gathering strength for the next storm.
‘You iron the last of the dresses. I’ll have a look at the Singer,’ Viv told her.
‘Thanks, Viv,’ she said. Her sister was more patient than her, and softer. She found it harder to deal with their father. Deirdre was braver. She could feed him more easily, and occasionally get him to shower. Deirdre listened to his stories about his life: how he’d lost a job in the timber mills years ago, how he’d had to come back to the farm and work his fingers to the bone for a wife who didn’t appreciate him, who then left him with two little girls to raise alone, how he’d done his best for them.
It was only me here with you two, he’d say. I didn’t know what to do with two little girls. What does a man do with two little girls? But I did me best for ya, I’ll tell ya that much. I bloody did my best and it drove me to drink.
In fact, the drink had driven everything else away. The drink was the love story of his life – a sad, doomed love story – and there was no room for anyone else. The drink had taken it all away, except for the pity of it all. For himself.
Deirdre wandered out to the laundry, which stood at the end of the verandah. The copper was on, boiling the sheets, the wringer was sitting idle for the moment, and the iron was heated and ready to tackle the starched dresses just off the line. The laundry was warm and smelled of Persil and Reckitt’s Blue. Some crows were fighting in the eucalyptus trees outside. She listened to them grumbling at each other and wished herself far away.
‘So does Tom have his suit ready yet?’ Deirdre asked. The last of the ironing was complete and she flopped into an armchair behind Viv, who was leaning over the Singer with great determination and concentration.
‘Not yet. He thinks his cousin might have something suitable.’
‘He doesn’t have a decent suit? Well! Harry has a lovely suit. He is going to look like a prince!’
Viv shook out the skirt again and checked the side seam. ‘Oh, for goodness sake, Deirdre,’ she said. ‘He’s handsome, but he’s not a prince.’
‘Well, he’s my prince!’
‘All right,’ Viv conceded. ‘We’ll call him your prince.’
‘Did you see him at the dance rehearsals? I thought he was so handsome. I bet Mrs Beswick couldn’t believe he’d be going out with me.’
‘Of course he’d go out with you,’ Viv told her, ‘because you’re so beautiful.’
Deirdre blushed. ‘You have to say that!’ She laughed. ‘Did you hear what Ida is wearing?’
‘She said she was wearing a white chiffon but it has lace on it as well, which she’s taken from one of her mother’s old dresses.’
‘She’s a clever girl, isn’t she?’ said Deirdre. ‘I thought we should drop in at Ida’s later to see how she’s going with her outfit – and if she needs any help.’
Ida had been their friend for years. She was a jolly girl with a kind heart and she often had the girls visit her at her farm without ever expecting an invitation in return. She was a kindred spirit who loved to dance and laugh.
Ida often followed Deirdre on her flights of fancy. She laughed along with her and never judged her for her silliness. She was a woman who might just as easily be found climbing a mulberry tree or rolling down a haystack. There was a freedom to her that Deirdre loved. Sometimes at night she’d think about the few people and things she’d miss when she left Windstorm and she found that Ida was at the top of her list.
Finally their father made his way down the hall to the verandah and toileted himself into the geraniums.
‘What are you two looking at?’ he grumbled.
‘Nothing, Dad,’ Deirdre assured him. ‘We were just wondering if you wanted something to eat?’
Their father glared back at them, as if he didn’t believe a word. ‘Eggs,’ he said. Viv went to the kitchen and began to whistle tunelessly as she worked and her father watched the spot on the table where his food was about to appear.
He probably wouldn’t be crutching later, Deirdre thought. He’d probably start drinking again in another couple of hours, and she and Viv would have to ask Mr Christie to help them later in the week. It was shameful, but there were some things they couldn’t accomplish by themselves.
They were confident with the generator. If their father had passed out before he’d started it for the day, then they made their way to the shed. At first they had gone with a good level of trepidation – generators were known to snap the arms of the unwary – but years of practice had given them confiden
ce, and cranking the generator themselves was much easier than waking their father. They needed light at night, pure and simple. And as they read their books, sewed or listened to the wireless, the generator could be heard, banging away in the shed until it was time for one of them to take the torch and dash across the cold, dark night to turn it off once again.
‘Nearly time we headed over to Ida’s,’ Vivian said, taking the butter from the kerosene fridge. Their father scooped his eggs loosely into his mouth, barely chewing, and sucked them down like they were making him sick.
When the girls got to Ida’s house she was already dressed, all in white, although she had on her head a hat filled with flowers and she was dancing about on the lawn.
‘Look at me!’ she called out. ‘I’m Cinderella ready for the ball!’ she pulled a small pumpkin out from behind her back. ‘Anyone want a lift?’ Viv and Deirdre laughed.
‘Oh, Ida, you are such a fool! I hope you’ve had time to put the kettle on, or are you too fancy in your white dress?’ Deirdre said.
‘And your hat!’ added Viv.
Ida giggled and tossed the pumpkin where it landed softly on the lawn, and headed inside.
‘I thought we could have tea on the back verandah,’ she said. ‘Who wants a scone?’
It wasn’t long before Ida had changed and the girls were settled at the cane table and chairs that looked down to the gate and across towards the neighbouring paddocks.
‘Are you excited about the ball, Viv?’ Ida asked. ‘I know Deirdre and Harry are planning on being the king and queen. Are you going with Tom?’
Viv nodded and sipped her tea. ‘Yes, he’s a good dancer.’ She put her tea down carefully. ‘We’re not going together or anything.’
‘Oh, I didn’t think so, although he’s rather nice, I think,’ Ida said.
‘We should have invited Audrey to tea as well,’ Deirdre remarked. ‘I want to hear how her trip to Perth went, and she’ll have a beautiful dress for the ball. I want to hear all about it!’
‘She’s on her way,’ Ida said. ‘She should be here any minute.’
‘Better put the kettle on again!’
Deirdre was holding a box and standing in Teddy’s doorway like they had an appointment. Teddy had been mopping the hall where Dog had made a dash for it with his muddy paws, and she was really happy about it.
‘What?’ she said. Deirdre looked almost impressed at her grumpiness. She wasn’t a natural, but she could be taught.
‘My debutante dress,’ she announced. ‘Time to try it on.’ Teddy groaned inwardly, and outwardly as well.
‘Do we have to do this today?’ she grumbled. ‘I’m busy today.’
‘You’re busy every day,’ Deirdre responded. ‘It’s how we raised you.’ She marched inside and slammed the box on the kitchen table, causing a half-empty teacup to jump to attention with a light tinkle. ‘Now, you’ll need to try this on so we can adjust it if we need to.’ She gave Teddy an assessing look. ‘Of course, I wasn’t as tall as you are but I don’t think it’ll look silly.’ Teddy looked down at Deirdre. The gown had once been full length on her, but on Teddy it would be more of a three-quarter length.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Let’s get this done.’ She snatched up the box and headed to her room to strip off. The fabric inside the box was pale ivory satin. It looked like it belonged on another planet, not hiding away in a box on a dusty farm. She wiped her hands nervously on her thighs and picked it up to find it was lighter than she had expected, and more beautiful. It was strapless and layers of chiffon fell from the cinched waist, billowing out like clouds. It was the sort of dress a movie star would wear, not a Deirdre Broderick. Teddy gathered the dress lightly in her arms and gazed at it in the mirror, surprised to feel so moved by it and by the knowledge that the woman who wore it once was standing in her kitchen, flicking through the Elders Weekly.
‘You ready?’ Deirdre called impatiently. ‘I haven’t got all day.’ Teddy unzipped the back and stepped into the dress. The lining was cool on her skin. She shimmied a little and reached around her back for the zip, making it only halfway.
‘Hey!’ she called out. ‘Grandma!’ There was no response. She sighed and marched back down the hall to the kitchen where Deirdre was waiting. Deirdre looked up and froze.
‘Well,’ she said, and nothing more. Well. Her assessment of Teddy appeared to take in the length of the gown, the fit, the low line it made against her pale décolletage, where it sat a little loosely. Teddy shifted uncomfortably.
‘I can’t get the back done up. It looks like I won’t be able to do the stupid parade.’
Deirdre sniffed. ‘Of course you will, the zip is a bit stiff, that’s all.’ She went behind Teddy and smoothed gently along the seams, as if gathering the memories in her fingertips. ‘Your grandfather thought I looked very nice in this dress,’ she remarked.
‘And did he look handsome?’
‘Not really,’ she said.
‘Grandma!’
‘He wasn’t a handsome man, Theodora but he was a good man, and that’s far better.’ She jiggled the zip. ‘I should know.’ It gave a little, then jammed again. Teddy sighed loudly in case her grandmother had forgotten she didn’t want to be putting on the dress at all.
‘Can I help?’ Both of the women turned to find Will leaning in the doorway, staring at Teddy with undisguised appreciation. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I was wondering where my assistant was, I didn’t realise it was formal wear today or I would have made more of an effort.’ He glanced down at his dirty jeans.
‘Go away,’ Teddy told him, clutching the dress to her bosom. He raised his brow and she blushed again.
‘Out you go,’ Deirdre commanded. ‘This is women’s business.’
‘We’re just discovering that I can’t do the dumb vintage dress fundraiser,’ Teddy explained. ‘Terrible shame of course but, oh well, we tried.’
‘Not hard enough, we didn’t,’ Will said, and he was standing behind her with his hands on her equipment before she could yell, Get your dirty hands off me!
‘Hey!’
‘Stand still,’ he ordered.
Deirdre was way too short to look over his shoulder to ensure no untoward touching was going on, so she moved close and peered under his arm instead.
‘Are you right?’ Teddy complained. She was worried her back was blushing.
‘Calm down,’ he muttered, inspecting the zip. ‘I think we need to get some WD-40 on this thing. Just take it off —’ He started tugging.
‘Hey!’
He held up his hands. ‘Okay, okay! Just trying to help. Deirdre, do you have any WD-40? Maybe you could fetch it?’ Deirdre stepped back from him and folded her arms.
‘Young man, if you think I am leaving this kitchen with you in it, you must think I’ve gone soft in the head.’
Will couldn’t help himself, there had been a grin gathering about his face for a couple of minutes and at that, it sprang forward. Now he gave up all pretence and stared at Teddy in the white dress, gleefully impressed. She glared back at him as his eyes drifted across her pale skin and tangled hair. His mouth was forming a word that may have been wow, but if it was, his brain forgot to finish it, so his mouth hung slightly open for a few long seconds. His eyes rested so heavily on the bodice of the dress it was as if they were trying to drag it off her.
‘Strapless, eh?’ he said. ‘Suits you.’ Teddy turned to him with her hands still protectively across her chest. He was allowing himself to enjoy the scenery because apparently no one was going for the helpful thing. His eyes took her in, slowly, and she stared back at him resentfully.
‘It’s your fault I’m standing here in a bloody deb dress,’ she grumbled. He angled his face towards Deirdre, but kept his eyes exactly where they were.
‘Well, you obviously cut a fine figure in your day, Deirdre.’
‘I liked to dress well, that’s all. We never had much money but with a Singer sewing machine and a bit of patience you’d be surprised what yo
u can come up with.’
Teddy groaned. She’d made her way to the bedroom again and was trying to extricate herself from the dress, but it didn’t want to let her go. Will got there before Deirdre and started working the zip down while Deirdre moderated from the doorway.
‘It’s no good,’ she announced. ‘I look terrible. I’m not doing it – just not.’ She felt hot tears stinging her eyes.
‘Hey,’ he whispered. ‘What’s the matter? You look beautiful. Incredible.’
‘I can’t do it, Will.’
‘Of course you can.’ She raised her spare hand helplessly and wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. He pulled her into a loose hug.
‘Teddy, I don’t know why you’re so freaked out by this. Can you tell me?’
Deirdre snorted. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time, didn’t it?’ she snapped. ‘To have your fun making Teddy perform like a seal in the circus? Now she’ll be afraid of letting people down. That’s what’ll happen. You don’t know everything, Will. You’ve upset Teddy.’
Will looked abashed. He glanced at Teddy guiltily. ‘Teddy? I don’t want you to worry about this thing. It’s just a bit of fun.’ She wiped away her silent tears. ‘I’ll be there with you. And Deirdre will be there watching —’ Teddy rushed into the spare room, tore the dress off and waited for Deirdre and Will to evacuate her bedroom so she could climb back into her jeans and jumper.
There was an awkward silence in the kitchen when she returned.
‘Okay,’ she said overly brightly. ‘Let’s get back to work.’
Deirdre glared at Will as if he had just placed his boots on the table.
‘Okay,’ he said uncertainly. ‘Let’s get back to it.’ Teddy marched out onto the verandah, and Deirdre scowled at Will afresh as they made their departure.
The Cowgirl Page 18