‘No worse than it’s been for you, by the sound of it, Molly.’ Emma picked up a worn tea- towel and began drying the dishes as Molly laid them on the draining board.
‘But it’s different for working-class people,’ Molly said. ‘None of us here in Redfern ever had much, even in the best of times. It must be much worse when you’ve had some of the good things in life, then suddenly lose it all. The best we could ever hope for was a job so we could pay rent, buy food and have a fag and a bottle of beer with our friends.’
‘I suppose that’s all anyone really needs, Molly.’
‘But it’s all too big an ask these days, Emma. There’s no one out there listening anyway. Everybody’s too busy blaming everyone else for the mess everything’s in.’
‘From what I’ve seen today,’ Emma said. ‘it’s the people with the least who are giving the most.’
‘Things aren’t always as they seem, Emma. For everyone who’s out there trying to give his neighbor a helping hand, there’s someone else who thinks people are getting something for nothing. There’s plenty of anonymous letter writers who can’t wait to dob in anyone who earns an extra shilling and doesn’t report it to the relief officer, or someone they think is trying to double-dip on the dole.’
‘How do you get by, Molly?’
‘Well, I told you, I’ve got no rent to pay. And I get eight shillings a week susso in food coupons. And once in a while if I pester them enough, I get a clothes parcel.’
‘How can you afford to help other people? ’
‘I do what I can at the mission. Father O’Brien sees to it that I don’t want for too much. Most of us try to help each other in Redfern.’
‘I’d like to do something,’ Emma said as she dried the last of the dishes. ‘If there’s a sewing machine at the mission, perhaps I could use that, or if not, I can sew by hand. I’d feel better if I was helping in some way.’
‘I’ll ask around,’ Molly said. ‘There’s quite a few women in Redfern who do a little sewing at home. They make things for the clothing stores, in secret mind you. They’re only paid a pittance for their trouble, but they can’t ask for more. If they complain, the stores dob them in and the dole is cut off.’
Emma sighed. ‘It all seems so unfair. Why is it people are so unkind to each other?’
Molly wiped down the draining board with a dry cloth. ‘That’s a mystery we won’t solve this afternoon, young lady, so you’d better unpack your things and have a nice lie down. You should be getting all the rest you can.’
Emma went into the bedroom. She put her few things away in an old dresser then lay down on the bed. Beyond the bedroom door she heard the muffled sounds of Molly going about her chores in the cottage. Suddenly she felt very safe and secure.
*
The silver-grey Bentley looked out of place beside the gaudy green and white taxis scattered around the Shamrock Taxi Company’s yard in Kings Cross. Leonard Fairchild looked out of place too, as he stood in the firm’s grubby dispatch office, trying amid incessant incoming telephone calls to have a word with the lone dispatcher.
‘When was that again, sir?’ the dispatcher said when he found a moment between calls.
‘It was just yesterday,’ Leonard said for the third time, ‘the young lady left Prospect House in Vaucluse some time around midday yesterday.’
‘And you want to know where she was going?’
‘Please.’
‘How do you know it was one of our taxis, mate?’
‘Yours are the only green and white taxis in Sydney.’
‘And you live at this house in Vaucluse, do you, sir?’
‘Yes.’ Leonard said, failing to grasp the significance of the question.
‘And were you the one that paid our driver, sir?’
‘Well no…’
‘You do realize, don’t you, sir’ the dispatcher said solemnly, ‘that I can’t give out any information if you weren’t the hirer of the vehicle?’ We have to protect the privacy of our customers.’
A telephone rang, then another. The dispatcher put one to each ear.
Leonard sighed and drew his wallet from his jacket pocket. He took out two one pound notes and held one in each hand, close to the dispatchers face.
‘One moment, please.’ The dispatcher spoke into both mouthpieces at the same time then quickly laid them down. He went to a cupboard and took out a cardboard box marked DRIVER’S DAY SHEETS and rummaged around inside. After a few moments he pulled out a sheet of paper and looked over it. ‘Here we are, sir.’ The dispatcher snapped the two pound notes from Leonard’s fingers. ‘Your young lady went to the girls’ hostel on Castlereagh Street. Merry Christmas, sir.’
‘I’m afraid Miss McKenna left the hostel earlier today, Mr Fairchild.’
‘Could you tell me where she went, madam?’
‘I’m not at liberty to give you any information, sir.’
From the look on Lil’s face and her curt manner, Leonard knew that the information he required would not be as easily forthcoming as it had been at the Shamrock Taxi yard.
‘But madam, I was speaking with Miss McKenna just yesterday when she visited my brother’s home in Vaucluse. It really is most important that I speak with her again. Please, do you know where she went’
‘I do, but I can’t tell you.’ Lil’s expression became even more defensive. ‘When Emma returned here yesterday, she was very distressed. And then there was an incident at the hostel that only made matters worse. We were so concerned for Emma’s well-being and state of mind that we made arrangements for her to spend a few days with friends.’
Leonard looked surprised. ‘She has friends here in Sydney?’
‘She thought she had, Mr Fairchild.’ The look Lil gave Leonard cut like a knife.
‘I’m so sorry, Madam,’ Leonard lowered his eyes. ‘I deeply regret what happened yesterday. I too, am concerned for Miss McKenna’s well-being and only wish to see her to make amends. Will you help me, please?’
‘All I can do Mr Fairchild, is to let Emma know that you wish to see her. If you care to call in again tomorrow, I may be able to tell you something then.’
*
Bill called by Molly’s cottage again the morning after Emma arrived. He was out canvassing support for the children’s party to be held on Christmas Day in Redfern Park. While Molly put on a pot of tea, Bill and Emma sat down at the kitchen table. He told her most households in the neighborhood were bringing food and home-made gifts to help make the party a success.
Emma was surprised how seriously Bill took his responsibility for the party. He had a small notebook in his shirt pocket in which he estimated how many people were coming and what was being pledged from each household. He said that by keeping track of everything he hoped to avoid the possibility of any youngster going home hungry or without a Christmas present. Emma offered to sew up a rag doll and Bill duly noted it down.
‘Emma’s been telling me she wants to do something to help while she’s here, Bill, ‘ Molly said over tea. ‘She’s a good seamstress, I can tell by her clothes. She was asking if there’s a sewing machine at the mission she can use. If not, she’s willing to sew by hand.’
‘Father O’Brien will be glad to hear that,’ Bill said. ‘The mission collects heaps of old clothes for distribution. There are always things needing repairs, alterations or making over into something else. Trouble is, there’s never enough help, the women who know how to sew are usually making things for the sweatshops.’
‘Well,’ Emma said, happily, ‘perhaps I can help.’
Father O’Brien was a small man with a big heart. Charged with the awesome responsibility of trying to maintain the faith in such a poverty-stricken parish, the elderly cleric gave himself the added burden of coordinating most of the assistance programs at the District Mission When Bill and Emma went to a tiny back room in the mission which served as his office, he was busy with a hundred and one things. But he took the time to talk to Emma.
He said the
re was only one old sewing machine at the mission and always an extraordinary amount of work on hand. He told Emma he would be pleased to accept any help she might care to give. Just as Emma was leaving, the telephone rang. Father O’Brien picked it up
‘Father O’Brien.’
The priest held the phone to his ear for some time without saying anything. As he listened, he looked apprehensively across the table at Emma. ‘Just hold on a moment,’ he said and lowered the phone, placing a hand over the mouthpiece.
‘Emma, it’s Lil at the hostel. Apparently a Mr Leonard Fairchild was asking after you yesterday. He’s there again now. He says he wants to meet with you if you’ll let him. Lil hasn’t told him where you are, of course. Would you like to see him?’
Taken completely by surprise, Emma was lost for words.
‘Remember you are among friends here, my dear,’ Father O’Brien said quietly. ‘You don’t have to see or talk to anyone if you don’t want to. But Lil does say Mr Fairchild seemed very sincere.’ The priest shrugged his small shoulders. ‘Sometimes it’s best to talk over differences Emma, if there’s any room left for discussion. What shall I tell Lil?’
‘I won’t go anywhere to see Mr Fairchild, Father O’Brien,’ Emma said. ‘But if he would like to come here to Redfern to see me, then I’ll meet with him.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
Emma met Leonard Fairchild in Redfern Park the next day. When she arrived a few minutes before midday, he was already waiting for her. He sat in the shade of a tree, on a low wall surrounding the entire park with a newspaper spread out over his knees. When he saw her approaching he stood up quickly and folded it up.
‘Miss McKenna, thank you for coming. Would you care for some tea? Perhaps we could go somewhere…’
‘I prefer to stay here, Mr Fairchild.’ Emma said. She sat down on the wall. ‘You must have gone to some trouble to find me. Just what is it you want?’
Leonard hesitated, as if unsure what to say. He sat down on the wall an arm’s length from Emma. ‘First of all, let me say how sorry Stephen’s father and I am that…’
‘Are you here to apologize for Stephen?’
‘Well, in a way, yes. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened. Oh...' Leonard reached into his coat pocket and took out Emma’s wallet and handed it to her. ‘Lil at the hostel asked me to give this to you. Apparently the cleaners found it in a rubbish bin. It’s empty, I’m afraid.’
Emma opened the wallet. Her father’s photograph was still inside She smiled faintly. ‘Oh, it’s far from empty, Mr Fairchild. Thank you so much for bringing it.’
‘Miss McKenna,’ Leonard said cautiously, ‘After you agreed to see me, Lil told me how bad your situation really is.’ Leonard looked around him at the ragged children playing in the litter-strewn park. ‘With the baby so close, you can’t go on living in this wretched place. We thought perhaps you would allow our family to help you financially.’
Emma sprang to her feet. ‘So you thought you could give me a few pounds and send me back where I came from, Mr Fairchild, is that it? I suppose you…’ Emma swayed on her feet. Getting up so quickly had made her dizzy. Leonard took her by the arms and steadied her as she sat back down.
She closed her eyes, waiting for the spell to pass. When she felt better she opened her eyes and said angrily: ‘How dare you come here and offer me money! How can you put a price on an illegitimate child or think Stephen’s deceit can be paid for with money, like a loaf of bread or a pound of butter. No, Mr Fairchild, those things are paid for in an entirely different currency. And my unborn child and I have already paid the price.’
Leonard lowered his head. When he looked up he said: ‘Oh, Miss McKenna, how could we have been so clumsy? First, my brother and now me. Please, forgive me.’
Emma stood up again, more slowly this time. ‘I’ll be going now. And this really isn’t a wretched place, Mr Fairchild. I’ve seen more love and compassion here in Redfern in the last few days than I’ve seen anywhere in the last twelve months.’
She began to walk away. Leonard hurried after her.
He touched her arm. ‘Please, Miss McKenna, don’t go.’
‘There’s nothing more to say, Mr Fairchild.’
She drew her arm away and continued walking. Leonard fell in beside her.
‘But there is, Miss McKenna. There’s something I must tell you even if it puts Stephen’s life at risk.’
Emma stopped in her tracks. Leonard had her undivided attention.
‘Stephen married for reasons quite unrelated to love,‘ Leonard said. ‘He loves you, Miss McKenna. It would devastate him if he knew you were pregnant with his child and living like this. But if he did know, I’m sure it would end his marriage, and if that happened, he could lose his life.’
‘What on earth are you saying? Emma asked.
Leonard took her by the arm and led her back to the wall. When they were seated, Emma listened in amazement as Leonard told her the story of the New Guard raid on the armory, just as his brother had told him, omitting nothing.
‘When my brother told me all this, I had to promise him I would tell no one,’ Leonard continued after Emma had taken in what he had already said. ‘But I’ve told you because you have a right to know what happened. Stephen and I are very close, and like his father I only want what is best for him. I hope that by breaking my word to Fenton, I haven’t put Stephen at risk.’
‘How long has Stephen been married?’ Emma asked after a few moments
‘Just a few weeks.’
‘What kind of a woman is she?’
Leonard shrugged. ‘Oh, Eleanor is young, attractive, and comes from a prominent Sydney family. Of course, she’ll never make Stephen happy, but as long as he’s married to her, I think he’ll be safe.’
‘Then, that’s all that matters,’ Emma said quickly. ‘And you can rest assured I would never do anything to hurt him. His secret is safe with me.’
Leonard looked relieved. ‘That’s the gamble I took when I told you all this. My brother was afraid you may instigate a paternity suit and Eleanor would turn the wolves loose on Stephen.’
‘And that’s why he sent you here, to offer me money?’
‘That was Fenton’s reason, yes,’ Leonard said. ‘But it wasn’t mine. I wanted to offer you help for a different reason.’
Emma eyed Leonard skeptically. ‘And what reason is that?’
‘I want you to let me provide security for you and the child. I want you to let me assume the responsibilities that Stephen would have been proud and honored to accept under normal circumstances. I am sure that if he knew about the child, nothing could keep him from you, not even a murder charge. Oh, don’t you see the position I’m in? If Stephen ever learned about your situation and knew that I did nothing, he would never forgive me.’
Emma flinched. ‘Is it just yourself your concerned about, Mr Fairchild?’
‘Of course not, my dear. I’m concerned much more about Stephen, yourself and the child. You must allow me to help you.’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘Then I’ll have to tell Stephen about the child when he returns to Australia. At least my conscience would be clear. I would tell him the truth, whatever the consequences. That’s better than living in fear that somehow he’d find out later and shut me out of his life forever.’
Emma looked Leonard in the eye. ‘Are you saying that if I refuse your money, whatever happens to Stephen in the future will be on my head?
Leonard’s eyes held Emma’s.
‘Yes I am.’
*
Emma sat alone at Molly’s kitchen table sewing yellow button eyes on the rag doll she had made for the children’s party. It was Christmas eve. At any moment she expected Bill, or one of his helpers to call by.
As she sewed, her thoughts were of Bruce and Jack, and she was grateful they were spending Christmas well fed, sheltered, and in the company of so many other youngsters. She wondered if the parcel containing sweets and a tin of biscui
ts she had posted to them from Armidale had arrived yet. Her thoughts turned to Kathleen and she hoped her mother wouldn’t read too much into the telegram she had sent, saying she hadn’t seen Stephen but that she was staying in Sydney and would write a long letter soon.
There was a loud knock on the cottage door. Emma bit off the thread of the last yellow button and hurried to answer it. The well-dressed man who stood outside was a stranger. In his hands he held a leather briefcase. Behind him, a taxi stood waiting at the kerb.
‘Miss Emma McKenna?’
‘Yes.’
‘My name is Hopwood. I represent the New South Wales Imperial Bank. I have with me documentation regarding a financial matter you recently discussed with our client Mr Leonard Fairchild. May I come in, please?’
‘Why yes…’ Emma led the way through to the kitchen table. The young man sat down, opened his briefcase and took out a manila folder. The folder contained a single sheet of paper and what looked to be a small blue notebook.
‘Now, Miss McKenna.’ Hopwood passed the little blue notebook to Emma, ‘This is your bank passbook in which you will notice there is an existing balance of three hundred pounds. Funds may be drawn upon by yourself at any time upon presentation of this book at any of our branches. In addition to the present balance, the sum of thirty five pounds per month will be deposited into your account on the first day of each month commencing in January. Have you any questions?’
Emma looked at the book for a moment. ‘No, ‘I don’t think so, Mr Hopwood.’
‘Very well.’ Hopwood passed the single sheet of paper to Emma. We require only a sample of your signature, Miss McKenna.’ Hopwood indicated a spot on the paper with his finger. ‘Now, if you’ll just sign here on the dotted line and again in the passbook, I’ll be on my way.’
When Emma had signed in both places, Hopwood put the folder back in his briefcase and got up to leave. The whole thing had taken no more than a minute.
‘Is that it?’ Emma said, as he walked toward the door. ‘Is there nothing more to sign, nothing more to do?’
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