by Sally Rippin
Sitting there with her notebook, Lina looked around and realised that even though her house was small and cramped, not plush like Mary’s, it was full of warmth and comfort. I worry too much, Lina decided. Just because Mary went to Sarah’s party doesn’t mean she’s not my friend. After all, I’m sure if my parents were invited to a party they’d want me to go, too.
Lina began to feel bad that she had been so cross with Mary and tried to think of a way to make it up to her. I know! she thought. I’ll write her a story. Mary loves my stories. I’ll give it to her tomorrow.
So she began a story in her notebook about a poor girl from the countryside who discovered she was really a princess. She couldn’t wait to give it to Mary on Monday.
‘Leena-Mina!’ came a familiar voice.
Lina looked up happily from her book and saw her best friend peeking through the library door.
‘Hurry!’ Mary squealed. ‘I have so much to tell you.’
Lina jumped up and walked quickly out of the library past Sister Rosemary, who cleared her throat, disapprovingly.
Mary grabbed Lina’s hand and they dashed along the corridors giggling. ‘I should never have gone without you,’ Mary gushed. ‘It was so boring not having you there. Sarah was just awful and I couldn’t wait to get home!’
‘Really?’ said Lina. She couldn’t help but be thrilled by this news even though it wasn’t at all what she had been expecting.
‘Ugh, yes, it’s true, Lina!’ Mary said, rolling her eyes. ‘They might have a big house and everything, but they sure don’t know how to throw a party.’
‘But what about the jukebox?’ Lina said.
‘Boring.’ Mary shrugged.
‘The food?’
‘Boring.’
‘Was there dancing?’
‘Bor-ring!’ Mary said, flapping her arms down by her side. ‘Nobody even danced! Can you believe it? I told you. I would have had much more fun just staying home with you, Lina. The only reason I even went was because my parents made me.’
Lina felt like her heart might burst with happiness. Without thinking, she threw her arms around Mary’s neck. ‘Oh, I wrote you a story!’ she said, suddenly remembering. ‘It’s in my school bag.’
‘Great!’ said Mary, clapping her hands together. ‘I’ve brought the magazine, too. Let’s take it to the library at lunchtime, shall we? I’ll bet there will be heaps of girls there today wanting to see it. You’re a star, Lina.’
Lina stared at Mary. ‘Really?’
‘Of course!’ Mary grinned. ‘Everyone loves the magazine and they know it was all your idea. They were even talking about it at Sarah’s party. You’re famous, Lina!’
Oh my goodness, Lina thought. Everyone talking about me? And I thought no one would even notice that I wasn’t there!
After assembly, a small crowd gathered round Mary and Lina at their lockers.
‘Did you bring the magazine today?’ one girl asked.
‘Is it finished?’ asked another.
‘Yes!’ said Mary proudly. ‘Come to the library at lunchtime!’
Sarah Buttersworth walked past. ‘What’s happening at lunchtime?’ she asked Mary.
‘Nothing,’ said Lina.
Sarah narrowed her eyes. ‘I didn’t ask you,’ she said. Then she turned to Mary again.
‘Oh, it’s nothing, Sarah,’ said Mary, looking embarrassed. ‘We’re just doing this project together.’
Sarah smiled slowly. ‘Oh, that magazine thingy that everyone’s been talking about? Can I see it?’
‘No!’ said Lina quickly. ‘It’s private.’
‘Oh, you mean it’s just a best-friend thing,’ said Sarah, twirling a lock of her long blonde hair in between her fingers. ‘Just between the two of you, right?’
‘Right,’ said Lina, not sure where this was going.
‘Well, that’s not what Mary told me,’ Sarah sniffed. ‘Mary told me everyone’s going to be part of your little magazine now.’
‘That’s not exactly true . . .’ Mary mumbled.
‘So why can’t I be involved?’ Sarah said.
‘Because I don’t want you to.’ Lina frowned. ‘And it’s our magazine so we can decide who’s involved or not!’
‘Mary?’ said Sarah.
Mary blushed and looked away.
‘Mary!’ said Lina, crossly. ‘Tell her you don’t want her involved!’
‘Girls!’ came Miss Spring’s sharp voice from the classroom doorway. ‘Is that you creating a disruption again? I thought I’d warned you last time?’
‘Miss Spring!’ Sarah wailed. ‘Lina and Mary are making a magazine and they’ve said I can’t be included.’
‘What’s this?’ Miss Spring said.
Lina glared at Sarah.
‘It’s true,’ Sarah pouted. ‘It’s in Mary’s locker.’
Miss Spring held out a hand, one eyebrow cocked. Mary sighed and reached into the locker. She pulled out the magazine and put it into Miss Spring’s waiting palm. Miss Spring flicked through the magazine and, to Lina’s horror, it fell open on a page with a particularly large advertisement for ladies underwear. Miss Spring sucked in her breath and Lina felt her blood drain into her ankles. Sarah held back a smile.
‘Who is responsible for this?’ Miss Spring said severely.
Sarah pointed to Lina.
‘Me too!’ added Mary, nobly.
‘You’re a horrible cow!’ Lina hissed to Sarah, who stood smiling smugly.
‘I beg your pardon, Miss Gattuso!’ Miss Spring said, her eyes almost popping out of their sockets.
‘And Mary doesn’t even like you,’ Lina added. ‘She only went to your party because she had to! She said it was the boringest party ever!’
‘Lina!’ Mary said.
‘That’s not what she told me. Mary told me she didn’t want you to come to the party because you are the boringest friend ever. So there!’ Sarah said, jabbing Lina in the shoulder.
‘Sarah!’ Mary gasped.
‘Girls! Enough!’ said Miss Spring, her face flushed with fury. ‘All three of you are to go to the Mother Superior’s office immediately. Do you hear? And you will take this rag – whatever filthy thing you want to call it – with you. I think the Mother Superior will be most interested to see what it is that you’ve been doing during school hours.’
Sarah’s mouth dropped open. ‘But I had nothing to do with it!’
‘The Mother Superior’s office! Now!’ Miss Spring repeated and she marched back into the classroom.
The walk across the courtyard was the longest Lina had ever known. None of the girls spoke. I can’t believe I’m being sent to the Mother Superior’s office, Lina thought miserably. The worst possible thing that could ever happen to any St Brigid’s girl. What will my parents say? And what will the Mother Superior think when she sees the magazine? Will she be as shocked as Miss Spring?
LINA had never met the Mother Superior face to face. She’d seen her at assemblies, of course, and walked past her office every morning, but she’d never sat across from her desk and actually spoken to her. Now, as the three girls sat in front of the stern-faced nun in her large wood-panelled office, Lina felt her legs begin to tremble.
Slowly, the Mother Superior turned the pages of the magazine and studied what lay inside. Occasionally, she would stop to read a piece, adjust her spectacles or examine an image. When she paused at the page with the underwear advertisement, everyone held their breath. By the time she had closed the cover and looked up at the girls, Lina could feel rivers of sweat trickling down the backs of her legs.
‘Well, this is quite something,’ the Mother Superior said slowly. ‘Whose idea was this?’
‘Lina’s!’ Sarah piped up.
The Mother Superior fixed her eyes on Lina, who felt her head begin to swim. ‘Hmmm. I’ve heard about this from some of the girls. This is what you’ve been doing during your lunchtimes then, is it?’
Lina hung her head. ‘Yes, Sister,’ she said.
&nbs
p; The Mother Superior nodded her head slowly. ‘Well, I can certainly see now what all the excitement was about.’
Lina looked up from her hands, not quite sure if she had heard correctly.
‘You’ve done a marvellous job,’ the Mother Superior said. ‘And all this in one week? It must have taken you hours?’
‘Er . . . yes,’ said Lina meekly.
‘Well, I think it’s really quite brilliant,’ the Mother Superior said, nodding to herself. ‘Congratulations, girls.’ She pulled off her glasses. ‘I say, would you consider doing one of these for the school? I have been thinking for years how nice it would be to have a school magazine. And now they have those modern copying machines, we could run them off for all the girls who wanted them. Like a real newspaper. Wouldn’t that be a treat?’
Lina still wasn’t sure she understood. The Mother Superior liked the magazine? ‘Well, yes!’ said Lina, bubbles of excitement rising up through her. ‘I’d love to do a school magazine. I mean we would, wouldn’t we, Mary?’
Mary nodded enthusiastically. Sarah rolled her eyes and glared out the window.
‘Perfect! When can you start?’ the Mother Superior asked. ‘It would be wonderful to have our first edition published soon after the Olympics, don’t you think? Then we could make it a special Olympic edition. And I’d want articles written by other girls in the school, of course. It is, after all, a school magazine. So we probably don’t want any of these lingerie advertisements in a St Brigid’s magazine now, do we?’
‘No, of course not,’ Lina assured her.
‘We can start right away!’ Mary said, excitedly. ‘Lina can type up the stories on my dad’s typewriter and I’ll do the pictures.’
‘And you?’ the Mother Superior said, looking towards Sarah.
‘Oh no, Sarah isn’t involved,’ Lina said hurriedly.
‘Ah,’ the Mother Superior said, tapping her chin. ‘I see. However, I don’t suppose all three of you have been sent here by Miss Spring for no reason whatsoever. So I’m afraid I must add that my only condition in putting together this magazine is that all three of you are to be involved.’
‘But . . .’ Lina began.
‘I . . .’ said Mary.
‘She . . .’ stammered Sarah.
‘I don’t believe that was negotiable,’ said the Mother Superior, with an owl-like gaze. ‘Very well. You may go now. And I look forward to seeing your ideas very soon.’
Lina stood up, her legs trembling, and made to follow Mary and Sarah out of the Mother Superior’s office.
‘Carmelina,’ the Mother Superior said. ‘Just wait behind a minute, would you, dear? I’d like a word with you alone.’
‘Yes?’ Lina said, turning around, her heart beating fast again. Was she in trouble?
Mary and Sarah closed the door quietly and Lina sat down again, her fingers twisting anxiously in her lap.
‘I know you haven’t been at St Brigid’s long,’ Mother Superior said, looking down her pointed nose through her glasses, ‘unlike most of the other girls here. And perhaps it has been a bit of a struggle for you to fit in. But I just wanted you to know that I, personally, believe you could become a real asset to this school.’
‘O-oh, thank you!’ Lina stammered. She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.
The Mother Superior pulled off her glasses and her face crinkled into a wry smile. ‘Provided you don’t let your passionate nature get the better of you. Express yourself in your writing, dear, not with your tongue.’
Lina nodded dutifully. ‘Yes, Sister,’ she said, feeling her cheeks get hot.
As Lina walked out of the office into the bright courtyard, she thought about the Mother Superior’s words. From now on, she decided, I will never let that awful Sarah Buttersworth upset me again. I’m as good as any other girl at St Brigid’s! And I’m going to prove it.
My parents are from Adelaide. Soon after they married, my father’s job took them to Darwin, where I was born. Throughout my childhood we moved country almost every two years, but my parents made sure they came back to Australia for the birth of my two younger sisters. It was very important to them that despite having spent much of our childhood overseas, we were still able to call ourselves Australian.
Since then, I’ve spent most of my adult life in Melbourne and my three sons were born here. Even though my older boys are half-French and my youngest is half-Italian, they consider themselves Australian. Not so much the blond-haired, surf-boarding Australian that we often see on postcards, but more a product of the rich multicultural mix that makes up this big country. To me, that is the Australian Girl I most identify with.
I was born and grew up in Italy, a beautiful country to visit, but also a difficult country to live in for new generations.
In 2006, I packed up my suitcase and I left Italy with the man I love. We bet on Australia. I didn’t know much about Australia before coming – I was just looking for new opportunities, I guess.
And I liked it right from the beginning! Australian people are resourceful, open-minded and always with a smile on their faces. I think all Australians keep in their blood a bit of the pioneer heritage, regardless of their own birthplace.
Here I began a new life and now I’m doing what I always dreamed of: I illustrate stories. Here is the place where I’d like to live and to grow up my children, in a country that doesn’t fear the future.
AFTER the Second World War, Australia began a campaign called ‘Populate or Perish’. The government believed that if Australia’s population didn’t grow rapidly enough we could be at risk of invasion from another country. To expand our numbers quickly, the government welcomed the arrival of migrants from many war-torn countries across Europe. Over the seven-year period this scheme was in place, nearly 171,000 immigrants arrived to begin a new life in Australia.
Italy had suffered greatly from the two world wars and many young Italians, particularly those from the countryside, found it hard to get work. Australia seemed like a great place to start a new life. Even though many of the Italian migrants arriving in Australia were uneducated, they were hard-working and lived simply to save money to buy their own houses and educate their children.
In Melbourne, it wasn’t uncommon for several families to share one small house, or to board with other Italians until they could afford to buy their own place. Carlton rapidly became a hub for the local Italian community. Many Italian entrepreneurs opened coffee shops and other businesses in Carlton to cater for the local Italian population. At that time the foods they imported seemed foreign and strange. Many Australians had never seen Parmesan cheese before and had certainly never seen a coffee machine. We have our Italian migrants to thank for introducing us to many of the wonderful foods we can now take for granted.
A New World
After World War Two, many Italian families came to Australia full of hope, in search of a better life. They travelled by ship from Europe, and brought with them many reminders of home – including coffee machines!
IT must be the longest day this winter, Grace thought, and all I’ve found are a few bits of coal and a piece of rope.
Grace waded towards the riverbank, wiggling her toes into the mud, feeling for anything that had washed in with the tide or fallen from a boat or barge to put in her kettle. That was her job as a mudlark – to search the bottom of the Thames for things to sell. She shivered.
A dirty fog hung over the water, draping everything in grey. The other mudlarks looked like shadows as they waded through the river. Grace felt the water cold against her legs – the tide was on its way in and her dress floated around her like a tent. She knew that soon she would have to get out of the river, but her kettle was only half full.
‘Please let there be something more,’ she said to herself, her teeth chattering, ‘some copper nails or a piece of driftwood.’
Grace looked across the river at a forest of masts. It was the same view she saw every day. Sails of every size billowed beneath the winter clouds. Ba
rges filled with coal and iron held anchor, ready to be unloaded on the shore. Longboats cut slowly through the water carrying fruit and meat to distant parts of London, and busy workboats ferried people up and down the river.
Ouch! Grace gasped when she felt a sharp pain in the bottom of her foot. She bent down and searched around in the mud until she touched something that felt like metal – cold and smooth. She pulled it up. Grace wiped it clean with a corner of her dress and turned it over in her hand, unable to believe it was real. It was an iron hammer, with no rust on its head, and no chips in its sturdy wooden handle. It was the most valuable thing she had ever found – worth as much on the street as a silver watch, she was sure.
‘A hammer – a fine hammer,’ she whispered. ‘Uncle Ord will be so pleased.’
‘Oi! What you find?’ Someone shouted at Grace and she quickly dropped her hands beneath the water.
A figure waded towards her through the fog. It was Joe Bean. He was no older than Grace, but he was the leader of a gang of mudlarks that lived under Blackfriar’s Bridge. Grace had always been good at staying out of their way; she kept her head down so she wouldn’t be noticed, or she worked in the parts of the river where Joe and his boys didn’t often go. They were thieves, and they didn’t think twice about stealing from the barges and from the other mudlarks who worked on their own. If any of the mudlarks ever had money from things they’d sold, Joe Bean would try to take it from them. And Grace knew that if he saw the hammer, he would snatch it from her and take it straight to the marine shop to sell for himself.
‘I got nothing!’ Grace shouted back.
‘I saw something in your hand just then – something shiny. Give me a look what you got!’