by Sally Rippin
Contents
1 Frosty Mornings
2 St Brigid’s Ladies College
3 My Heart, My Home
4 A Brand New World
5 The Magazine
6 An Apology
7 A Quiet Conversation
8 Sister Rosemary
9 The Betrayal
10 In Trouble Again!
11 The Mother Superior
For Lino, with love
and in memory of Nonna Giuseppina
Thank you to Carmel Hyland and her wonderful
mother-in-law,
Sofia Rosa, storyteller
extraordinaire.
Note from the author: Lina’s family would have
spoken Italian to each other and their friends, but
their conversations have been written in English
so that you can understand them.
LINA woke to the sound of the old rooster crowing in the backyard. It can’t be morning already! she thought, peering out through the curtains at the velvety grey sky. In the distance she could hear the rumble of the delivery trucks on Lygon Street and the clip-clopping of the milkman with his horse and cart.
Time for chores, I guess. Sighing, she quickly slipped a jumper over her nightdress and, standing barefoot on the freezing linoleum floor, teeth chattering, hunted for a pair of warm socks in the chest of drawers she shared with her grandmother.
At the back door, Lina pulled on a pair of her father’s work boots and the padded jacket that had once belonged to her brother. Her older brothers were already outside doing their chores in the long narrow garden of their terrace house in Carlton. In the pale morning light she could just make out the hunched-over shape of her eldest brother, Pierino, turning over the frosted earth around the broad beans and broccoli.
Lina fed the chickens then marched back to the house, stomping her feet against the cold. She prised off her muddy boots and went inside. The stove was on and the kitchen was warm and Lina could smell the oily metallic smell of her father’s work clothes. Dad must be home, she thought. Sure enough, her father stood at the sink, scrub-scrub-scrubbing at the grease compacted under his nails. No amount of soap could ever completely bring back the smell he’d had before he began working at the car plant – of olives and sunshine and coffee.
‘Hey, cara mia,’ Lina’s father said wearily. ‘How you doing this morning?’
‘Good thanks, Papa,’ Lina said, leaning in to receive a kiss.
‘Mama’s already left?’
Lina nodded. ‘And Nonna’s in the garden.’
‘You make me a coffee, love?’
‘Sure,’ said Lina. ‘Aren’t you going to bed?’
Lina’s father gave her a slow cheeky smile. ‘You think I forget? Today is your assembly performance, no?’ His eyes crinkled at the corners.
‘Oh,’ said Lina, her cheeks stinging pink. ‘That. I didn’t mean you had to come and watch, Papa. It’s not important. Kids read stuff out in assembly all the time.’
Her father’s face dropped into a frown. ‘You sounded like it was important the other day.’
Lina’s cheeks burned hotter. She wished she hadn’t mentioned it at dinner last week. ‘I know, but you’re tired, Papa. You’ve worked all night . . .’ Lina’s voice petered out. How could she tell him she really didn’t want him to come? With his grease-stained hands and his shabby suit jacket and thick Italian accent. What if the girls at school made fun of him?
It’s not that I don’t love him, Lina told herself. Lina loved her father so much that sometimes she felt her heart might burst. I just don’t want to stand out any more than I have to – than I already do, she thought desperately.
Lina hung her head and a lie crept out over her lips. ‘Actually, it’s been cancelled. I just remembered. They only told us yesterday. They said they weren’t doing performances in assembly anymore.’ Her voice came out ashamed and small.
Lina’s father stood quietly for a while, his hands still foamy in the sink. ‘All right, love,’ he said slowly. ‘Another time. Go wake your little brother and I’ll be off to bed, then.’
Lina slunk down the corridor, relieved to escape her father’s eyes, but with a cold dark lump of badness lodged in her gut. She slipped into the stuffy dimness of her brothers’ bedroom and jerked back the curtains.
‘Get up,’ Lina told the pile of blankets.
Lina’s little brother, Enzo, peeked his sleepy face out of the muddle. He stuck out his arms towards Lina. ‘Cuddle?’ he said in a baby voice, but Lina wasn’t in the mood. She pulled his clothes off the chair and tossed them onto the bed.
‘Up, Enzo!’ she repeated.
Enzo sat up obediently, blinking. Lina huffed and yanked his pyjama top over his head.
‘Ouch!’ Enzo squeaked and scrunched up his forehead. He rubbed his eyes with his fists. Despite her grumpy mood, Lina couldn’t hold herself back from giving him a cuddle. He was so warm and soft in the mornings, with his skinny white arms sticking out of his singlet like sticks of spaghetti. Enzo squeezed Lina tight and she buried her face in his downy neck, and as she did, she felt that black lump in her stomach soften and melt away.
‘Thanks, Enzo,’ she whispered in his ear. Then she tickled him until he squealed. ‘Come on! Nonna will spank you if you’re late for breakfast.’
Lina helped Enzo put on his clothes then chased him down the corridor.
When they entered the kitchen, Nonna was already busy, kneading the dough for the evening’s zeppoli, up to her elbows in flour.
At the other end of the wooden table, there were three neat bundles tied up in Papa’s big cotton handkerchiefs. Lina took a peek at her lunch for the day. Inside was a hunk of crusty white bread, a wedge of Parmesan cheese and a hard-boiled egg. ‘Nonna! I told you I can’t take Parmesan to school anymore,’ Lina complained. ‘The girls don’t like it. They say it smells like vomit.’
‘Rubbish,’ said Nonna, kneading furiously. ‘They don’t even know what is cheese. They eat that yellow plastic stuff they call cheese. That’s not cheese. You eat what I give you, all right? Here,’ she said, wiping her floury hands on her apron. ‘Take your zio his coffee and tell him to get up. He’s not going to find a job in bed!’ Nonna handed Lina a tiny white cup of steaming black liquid.
Never mind, thought Lina. I’ll just throw out the cheese on my way to school and tell Miss Spring I forgot my lunch again. Getting in trouble is still better than that horrible Sarah Buttersworth telling everyone I vomited in my school bag. Lina breathed in the coffee fumes and wrapped her cold hands around the cup. How can coffee smell so good when it tastes so awful? she wondered. And Parmesan smell so awful when it tastes so good?
Lina walked down the hallway and knocked on the door of the room where her uncle slept. Before he had arrived from Italy, three months ago, this had been the sitting room. Now the only place to sit was in the kitchen or at the long wooden table outside, under the grapevines. In winter it was too cold to sit out there and the vines were spindly and bare, but in summer they became a dappled green shelter, dripping with plump ruby and emerald fruit, like clumps of sweet jewels.
Lina knocked again and when there was no reply, she pushed the door open a crack. ‘Zio!’ she called quietly into the dark. ‘Your coffee.’
Lina could just make out the shadowy bulk of her uncle asleep on the couch under a mound of flowery bedclothes. ‘Zio,’ she called again, a little louder, but not so loud that she might wake her father, who had just got into bed. Her uncle’s only response was a snuffle and a snort, then one arm snaked out from under the blankets and waved towards the dresser. Lina frowned and plonked the little cup onto the furniture by the door. ‘Drink it cold then,’ she hissed under her breath.
Lina closed the door and hurried back
into the warm kitchen, where Enzo was dipping bread into a bowl of hot milk. Lina helped herself to a chunk of old bread and dropped it into a bowl. Then she took the saucepan of milk from the stove and poured it over the bread to soften it.
Pierino stomped into the kitchen, school bag slung over his shoulder, shirt ironed into sharp creases. ‘Aren’t you even dressed yet?’ he growled at Lina. ‘It’s nearly seven o’clock. You’ll miss your bus!’ He picked up the lunch Nonna had prepared for him and allowed her to kiss him on both cheeks.
Lina frowned and shoved the last bit of wet bread into her mouth. ‘I’m nearly ready,’ she grumbled. ‘You don’t have to nag me. You’re not the boss, you know!’ She wiped her hands on her nightdress and carried her bowl to the sink.
‘Well, if you were ready quicker I wouldn’t have to keep nagging you,’ Pierino insisted.
‘I’ve been catching the bus to school all year and haven’t been late once. Or missed a single day,’ said Lina.
‘It’s true,’ Nonna piped up, taking Lina’s side. ‘Not like this one.’ She gestured towards Bruno who had just sauntered through the doorway. ‘Look at you!’ she moaned. ‘I iron your shirt yesterday and already it’s full of creases. Why can’t you stay clean like your brother, huh?’ She shook her head despairingly.
Bruno grinned and pinched Lina’s arm as she pushed past.
‘Ow!’ she yelled, but more to get him into trouble than out of pain.
‘Bruno!’ Nonna scolded, right on cue.
Lina giggled as she dashed down the hallway and pulled her school uniform out of Nonna’s wardrobe. Unlike Bruno, who hated the stiff shirt and heavy shoes of his uniform, Lina loved her navy pleated skirt and crisp white shirt, and wore them with pride. She dressed quickly and pulled her dark hair back into a high ponytail, tied with a navy ribbon. I hope I won’t be too nervous in assembly this morning, she thought as she took a quick peek in the brown-speckled mirror on Nonna’s dresser. She grabbed her hat and gloves from the hook on the back of the door, slung her leather satchel over her shoulder and ran to kiss Enzo and Nonna goodbye.
THE main building of St Brigid’s Ladies College was a large white house, old as lace and pretty as a wedding cake, with a balcony on the second floor stitched all the way around. Lina pulled open its heavy wooden door and waved to Miss Spencer in the front office.
‘Off to the library, then?’ she asked, as she did every morning, and Lina nodded. Lina always arrived at school long before the other girls. In hot weather she sat out under the jacaranda tree, and gazed dreamily up into the wide canopy of feathered leaves and purple flowers. Now it was cold, she bunkered down in the library, which was warm and welcoming with its roaring fire and cosy armchairs. Here she read or wrote stories in her notebook while listening for the school to fill with the chatter of noisy girls.
Lina loved being at St Brigid’s. At first she worried it would be so much harder than her last school, but she was surprised to find that she enjoyed most of her subjects and was doing well, which kept her parents happy. But it was English, especially creative writing, that Lina loved the most.
Old Sister Rosemary, who ran the library, smiled as Lina entered the wood-panelled room. ‘So, today’s the big day? Are you ready?’
‘Yes,’ said Lina. ‘I’m a bit nervous though.’
‘Don’t be!’ Sister Rosemary said, dismissing Lina’s anxieties with an impatient wave of her knobbly old hand. ‘You’re a marvellous writer, my girl. And believe me, I know good writing. Feel free to read it to me again, if you’d like a little more practice.’
Lina felt her cheeks bloom with pride. ‘Thank you, Sister,’ she said. ‘But I think I just need to practise on my own this morning.’
She pulled the biggest, cosiest armchair right up to the fire and curled into it.
The essay topic her English teacher had set them was My Home. Lina had enjoyed describing the house she lived in, the narrow cobbled street and all her neighbours. Her teacher had liked the piece so much she had asked Lina to read it out at assembly. Lina still felt bad for having lied to her father, but she convinced herself it had been the right thing to do. It would have been much too embarrassing if he’d come. For both of them. None of the other girls at St Brigid’s had parents who could barely speak English. Lina pushed the image of her father’s disappointed face out of her mind and concentrated on her reading. She read through her story again and again until she could almost recite it by heart. Halfway through her fifth reading she was interrupted by a familiar voice.
‘Lina-Meena!’
Lina grinned. ‘Mary-Banary!’ she called back, looking up to see her best friend, Mary, peeking her head into the doorway and offering lots of fast little waves.
‘Erh-hum, Miss Doveton? Are you coming in or leaving?’ Sister Rosemary said in her strictest voice. Lina had noticed that Sister Rosemary seemed to reserve her smiles for girls who read.
Lina quickly packed her things into her bag and swung it up onto her shoulders. ‘Goodbye, Sister,’ she said as she skipped past the librarian’s desk to meet her friend.
‘Goodbye, Lina,’ Sister Rosemary said formally, folding her chin down into her soft, creped neck. ‘See you tomorrow.’
Mary grabbed Lina’s hand and pulled her as fast as she could down the corridor, without actually running. Running in the school corridors was considered most unladylike and, at best, would earn you the strap across the back of the legs – at worst, an afternoon in the Mother Superior’s office.
The two girls burst through the double glass doors into the courtyard, snorting with laughter.
When Mary had calmed down, she stood in front of Lina and did a little twirl on the spot. ‘Look!’ she said. ‘It’s new! Like it?’
Lina studied Mary hard. New hairstyle? No. New ribbon? Lina gasped. ‘Are you wearing lip gloss?’
Mary rolled her eyes. ‘Of course not, dummy! Do you really think I want to get in trouble with the Mother Superior again? No, look at my skirt. Watch!’
Mary spun around a second time and then Lina saw it. Her mouth dropped open. ‘But how? Is that your uniform?’
‘Mum had it made up for me. It’s a circle skirt! Like Audrey Hepburn wears in Roman Holiday. See, when I spin around, look how far out it goes. But when I stay still, it just hangs down in pleats like a boring old school uniform. Isn’t it dreamy?’
Lina nodded enviously.
‘You should get one too!’ Mary gushed. ‘Mum has this great new dressmaker. She can make anything. She’s going to make me a dress for Sarah Buttersworth’s party this weekend out of some gorgeous satin Mum got from New York. You should get her to make you one, too! We can wear them to Sarah’s party together. You are coming to Sarah’s party, aren’t you?’
Lina nodded again, but secretly she knew she would rather eat a slug sandwich than go to Sarah Buttersworth’s thirteenth birthday party. And that’s even if she did have a fancy new dress she could wear. Not for the first time, Lina was reminded how different she was to everyone else here. I bet Mary thinks I could ask for a new dress just like that. Imagine! What would Nonna say about paying someone to make your clothes?
‘Why don’t you come over to my house this afternoon?’ Mary said. ‘I have heaps more clothes to show you. Dad’s just got back from overseas and brought me all this fabulous stuff!’
‘Oh, I don’t think I can . . .’ Lina began.
‘Why not?’ Mary stuck out her bottom lip.
‘I have to help my grandmother with my little brother,’ she sighed. ‘And I have chores to do.’
‘You always say that,’ Mary said. ‘You can’t have chores every day. You haven’t come to my house once since we’ve been best friends. Sarah used to come over nearly every day when we were friends in primary school.’ Mary’s face clouded. ‘Don’t you want to come to my house?’ she asked in a wounded voice.
‘Of course I do,’ Lina said quickly. Even though Mary and Lina had been friends for months now, when Mary spoke like this Lina cou
ldn’t help worrying that Mary might drop her and take Sarah back as her best friend. Lina couldn’t believe her luck when she was chosen by Mary, who was so popular and pretty, with her long blonde ponytail and sky-blue eyes. Before, Lina had felt like she was the only girl in the whole school who knew no one. The thought of those long, lonely lunchtimes sitting by herself again sent chills right through her. Lina couldn’t imagine her days at St Brigid’s without Mary by her side.
‘Then come this afternoon,’ Mary insisted. ‘Mum’s making cupcakes with the new mixer Dad bought her. It’ll be fun!’
‘All right,’ Lina said. ‘I’ll come.’ She smiled at her friend, but inside she was a knotted web of worry. Who will do my chores if I’m not there? she fretted. Who will look after Enzo while Nonna is cooking? And how will I even let Nonna know where I am?
She pushed her worries out of her mind. Her brothers were late home all the time! It’s just this once, she assured herself. As long as I get in before Ma gets home Nonna won’t be too cross with me.
THE bell for morning assembly chimed across the foggy courtyard. Lina and Mary rushed to their home room to lock their satchels away in the narrow metal lockers before assembly. Lina tucked the notebook with her story into her blazer pocket.
‘Break a leg!’ Mary called as they parted ways at the entrance to the school hall.
‘Thanks!’ Lina called back as she continued along the side of the building to the backstage entrance. Taking a deep breath she opened the door that led to that shadowy, secret place and mounted the short flight of stairs.
While the Mother Superior led the school through the hymns and read out the notices, Lina sat on the stage in a hard-backed chair alongside five other girls also waiting to perform. As she looked out over the sea of heads, a wave of fear washed through her and clamped at her heart. What if they don’t like my story? she worried. What if they laugh at me?
Lina skimmed the hall for a reassuring face. In the side rows sat proud parents. She took in their fashionable clothes, modern hairstyles and confident smiles, and knew her father, with his shabby suit and dark slicked-back hair, would have stood out amongst them like a pock-marked tomato. Lina kept her eyes moving until they rested on the face of Mary, smiling warmly, with an empty seat saved beside her for Lina’s return. When Mary saw Lina looking at her, she waved, and Lina smiled back, feeling comforted.