by Max Howell
He kissed her one last time, and said, “I will be back for you, Faith, in four years’ time.”
She looked him in the eyes and said, simply, “I will be waiting.”
She walked in and her mother was still awake. She looked at the flushed expression on her daughter’s face, and said, “Are you all right, Faith?”
“I am all right, Mum. Nothing to worry about.”
As Faith went to her bedroom, her mother started sobbing, fully aware of what had happened, and hoping upon hope that her daughter was all right. She fell asleep crying.
Faith lay on her back on the bed. She could still feel the pressure of his body on her, and her vagina was still pulsating from her first complete sexual experience. She fell asleep, and dreamed the dreams of a person fulfilled. Occasionally, however, she would think of Mark leaving, and a tremor would rush through her body. She would force her mind to think of what had happened that night, Mark inside her, moving and bringing her to orgasm. The dream of their love play was more pleasant than the thought of her loved one departing.
Faith woke with a start, looked over anxiously at the clock in her room. It was 9 am, and Mark’s boat was to leave to 2 pm. She dressed hurriedly, putting on the dress she wore to the Olympic Games, which was Mark’s favourite. Her mother said, “You need to have some breakfast, Faith.”
Faith said quickly, “I am sorry, Mum, but I will get something at Mark’s. He leaves at 2 pm, so I will be going down to the ship to see him off. I will get home as soon as I can.”
“All right,” her mother replied, “but do not get yourself all worked up. Try to keep control of yourself, and give him our love. I do not think you would want your father and I there.”
“It would be all right if you both came, Mum.”
“Maybe, but your father and I decided not to. It is an important day for you and we do not want to interfere.”
“Thanks, Mum, I love you.”
“We love you too, Faith. Just do not get yourself too worked up.”
“I won’t Mum, I will be all right.”
“We are worried about you, Faith.”
“You do not need to be, Mum. Sorry, but I have got to hurry. Do not worry about me.”
“But we do, Faith.”
She almost ran to Mark’s house, and when he saw her his face lit up. “I thought you had deserted me,” he joked.
“You know better than that,” Faith replied.
He pulled her aside. “Are you all right?”, he whispered.
She smiled broadly. “I have never felt better. I slept better than I have in my life.”
“I am worried about you.”
“It is funny, Mum just said the same thing.”
“Maybe we both love you.”
“I am sure, but I think you love me differently.”
Mark burst out laughing, and put his arm around her. “You are correct there,” he said.
Already there were about twenty people in Mark’s home, and Mark showed her the morning paper.
The Sydney Morning Herald
SWIM STAR DEPARTS FOR AMERICA TO-DAY
by E. W. Kann
Swimming gold medallist Mark Jamieson departs at 2 pm to-day to study in the U.S.A. He leaves on the S.S. Lakemba at 2 pm from the Sydney wharves. Swim officials are in agreement as to the gap his departure leaves in Australian swimming ranks. The dominant sprinter in the world, he is one of the greatest swimmers ever to emerge in Australia. He is scheduled to begin his studies at the University of California at Berkeley in January. Many swimming supporters are expected at the wharves to bid the golden boy of Australian swimming a fond farewell.”
“It sounds like it will not be a very private farewell,” lamented Faith.
“Yes, I really cannot believe it. I hope I will not be like Young Griffo, a famous boxer from the Rocks. All his friends came to see him off to America, and as the boat pulled out and his mates started weeping he jumped overboard and swam to shore. They got him on another boat months later and he did the same thing. The third time they locked him in his cabin,” said Mark.
“Well, I cannot see that happening to you, but if you do jump overboard I feel certain you would look a lot better getting to shore than he did,” said Faith.
“The funny thing is Young Griffo never did come back to Australia. He became an alcoholic and died in the Bowery in New York.”
“Well,” said Faith, “I cannot see that happening to you either, and you have promised me you will be back in four years.”
“You can bet on that,” remarked Mark.
“By the way, how are we getting to the wharves?” enquired Faith.
“Dad has it all worked out. A friend of his, Tonsie Michael, has a truck. He would often take a load of the lads from the Coach and Horses to the fights at Rushcutter’s Bay Stadium. They would all pile into the back. I went once with them and loved every minute of it. We have to leave at 11 however. We will load the cabin trunk, and about twenty will stand in the back. You and Mum go in the front with Tonsie. It will not look the classiest in the world as we all drive up to the wharves. I doubt if the Lakemba will have ever seen the like of it. The remainder who cannot fit in will go by taxis.”
“As you said, Mark, it will certainly be different,” laughed Faith.
At about 11 they got the cabin trunk on the truck and everyone piled in. Like Mark said, Tonsie, Mum and Faith were in the front, and in the back was Mark, his father, Frank Fielding, Wallaby Wiechman and many of Dad’s friends, who were already well fortified for the journey.
As the truck left amid laughter, Mark looked back at his old street and his home. The truck crossed the tram-line where he had picked up the tram to Coogee Beach and Sydney Technical High School hundreds of times, and stopped at the corner which he and Faith regarded as their trysting place. The truck lumbered past Randwick Race Course, one of his father’s favourite haunts, and wound its way past Moore Park and the tenement houses to the centre of the city, and next went along Elizabeth and finally Macquarie Streets and the Domain until it arrived at the wharves where the Lakemba was berthed. It was a very nostalgic journey for Mark, and he wondered when he would pass that way again. There was much celebrating in the truck, everyone singing as it weaved its way through the city, such as ‘Waltzing Matilda,’ ‘Advance Australia Fair,’ ‘Along the Road to Gundagai’ and ‘The Wild Colonial Boy’, all sung for Mark’s benefit. He was leaving the promised land, and the songs were to remind him of his heritage.
It was a motley crew which drove up to the wharf, and everyone disgorged amidst laughter. The crew and the passengers already on deck observed the scene with some amusement, wondering what manner of passenger they were about to take aboard. Frank, Wallaby and four of Dad’s mates lifted the cabin trunk off the truck and onto their backs and headed towards the gangplank.
One of the crew came down to find out what was happening. “Me name’s Taffy Evans,” the white-clad steward said in an unmistakable Welsh lilt, “what can I be doing for you lads?”
“Well, Taffy me lad,” boomed out Mark’s Dad, “move aside, we have one of Australia’s finest coming aboard, passenger Mark Jamieson, and incidentally what is a Welshman like you doing on a Yankee ship?”
Taffy enjoyed the repartee. “They wanted to improve the standards of the ship, matey, so they invited me aboard. After all, we did beat the Wallabies at Cardiff Arms Park in 1908 and again 1947-48, and without a doubt they will show ‘em a thing or two at Cardiff next year as well.”
“You beat the Wallabies when?” said Mark’s Dad. “Why, you bloody pit ponies could not fight your way out of a paper bag. A one-eyed lot all you Welsh bunch are.” Laughter followed these comments, and the Welshman beamed.
“You cannot handle us in rugby, and if we ever took up cricket we would give you a lesson in that too,” he replied.
Mark’s father could easily handle that. “Only if you played us in a mine with the lights out. Now enough of this, Taffy me lad, where’s me boy’s ca
bin?”
Taffy led Mark to the cabin, with his Dad’s entourage patting Taffy on the back and yet generally giving him a bad time. Like all the Welsh, Taffy was adept at a little ribbing, particularly from Australians.
Mark’s cabin was quite small, but at least it had a single bed and there was more than ample room for the cabin trunk. There was also a port-hole so Mark could look out, and the cabin contained a shower and a toilet. “It ain’t much,” said Taffy, “but we’re not a passenger liner. There’s only twelve passengers aboard, counting you.”
“Where is this tub heading?” boomed Mark’s father. “I keep asking me son and he says he has not got a clue.”
“The joke is,” said Taffy, “we don’t know either. Could be anywhere. The company is trying to start up trade, so it is a bit of a pig in a poke as to where we’re heading. The captain usually tells us a few days beforehand.”
“Strange sort of bloody operation,” retorted Mark’s father. “You will not be taking me son round the Cape, will you?”
“No, you can bet on that. It will be the Pacific. Now are you lads all right? We are leaving at 2 pm and about 1.30 it is everyone ashore. You lot can’t even fit into the cabin, so I’d suggest you go up on deck.”
“Okay, skipper, whatever you say, and if you do not look after me son properly, I will go into training next year, make the Wallaby team meself and whip the hell out of you pit-ponies at Cardiff. If I could not handle your bunch I would give the game away.”
Taffy laughed, and everyone accompanied him up on deck to survey the ship. It was the first time any of them had been on anything bigger than a Manly ferry.
While they stood on deck, laughing and joking, a crowd of about three hundred people started to gather at the wharf, all to see Mark off. They started throwing streamers at the boat, and soon there were hundreds of streamers, of various colours, going from the wharf to the ship. Some of Mark’s old school-friends were there, as well as relatives, who came aboard one by one to say good-bye, but most were people Mark did not know, but had nevertheless followed his career closely. There were written signs such as ‘Hurry back, Mark,’ and ‘Don’t forget 1960 - Another Gold’, and ‘Best of luck in America.’
Mark stood on the top deck with Faith, holding her hand or with his arm around her, overwhelmed by this course of events. Now and then he would wave, and when he did people cheered from the shore, and more and more streamers were thrown towards Mark.
All the passengers and crew watched this display with astonishment. They realized that the young man who had come aboard must have been pretty famous.
The time went all too quickly, and suddenly Taffy appeared and yelled out: “All ashore who is going ashore,” and rang a bell. Everyone surrounded Mark one last time, wishing him the best and shaking his hand. Frank and Wallaby were very moved, Frank forcing back the tears as he said, “Look after yourself, mate, I am going to miss you. Keep in touch.”
Mark’s father embraced him. “I’ll send you money if one of the horses comes in, Mark. I am due for a lucky break. Do your old man proud over there, son”
“I will, Dad, and thanks for everything over the years. Though I must admit I will not hold my breath waiting for one of your horses to come in first.” He hugged his father in return.
His mother came forward and put her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. “I will be worried about you, Mark, so let me know what is happening.”
“I love you, Mum, and thanks for everything you have done. I could not have made it without you. Look after yourself and Dad,” said Mark, tears in his eyes.
“Your father is his own worst enemy, he is drinking himself to death,” she retorted. “I have given up trying to change him.”
“Just do your best, Mum.”
Mark held on to Faith’s hand until they all left, and then he closed the door. She fell into his arms. “Oh Mark,” she gasped, “I cannot believe you are leaving.” She could not stop herself, the tears flowed, and she shook all over. “I have been so happy and I love you so. I am sorry, Mark, I did not intend to cry. I just cannot stop myself.”
“It is all right, Faith, I feel the same way. I just cannot believe I am standing here, and we will be separating in a few minutes for four years.”
“Four years, Mark, four years. I can do it, Mark, I can do it. Will you wait?”
“Yes, Faith, of course I will. I can never love anyone else.”
“And neither can I. Our love is eternal.”
“Yes, eternal love.”
Taffy called out again and rang his bell one more time. “Last call for all who is going ashore!”
“I have got to go, Mark, I must leave!”
“I know, Faith. But remember this. Every night of my life, at 9 o’clock, no matter where I am or what I am doing, just like we have been doing these past years, I will think of you and tell you I love you.”
“I will do the same, Mark. Every day of my life - at 9 o’clock, no matter what happens. And every night I will say, to eternal love!”
“To eternal love. Good-bye, Mark, until four years.” They came together in one final embrace, and then he opened the door and walked her to the gang-plank.
When Mark appeared on deck, and Faith walked down the gang-plank, hundreds of people cheered. He searched the crowd. There were his Mum and Dad, and he nodded to them, Terry, his mentor, Frank and Wallaby, and then his eyes were solely on Faith. They looked into each other’s eyes, their hearts bursting with love and anguish.
The gang-plank went up, and everyone waved and cheered. Faith just stood there, not smiling, her heart racing and her legs trembling. They just looked at one another, the enormity of their love transcending the distance.
The ship pulled away from the wharf, the streamers breaking one by one, and in no time the figures on the wharf started to dwindle in size. Soon they all departed, except Faith. She stood there, sobbing, watching the ship go past Pinchgut Island and the Woolloomoolloo Docks and wend its way towards the Heads.
Frank came up to her and said, gently, “Come on, Faith, we will take you home.”
Mark’s Mum and Dad also came up and tried to get her to leave, but she was adamant. “No,” she said, “I am not leaving until I cannot see the ship any longer. I will be all right, just leave me. I will catch a tram home.”
Mark, too, stood on the deck of the ship, somehow aware that Faith would still be there. Slowly, but surely, visible objects were replaced by the never-ending sea. Empty-hearted, he went into his cabin to lie down. Her heart breaking, Faith eventually left the docks and caught a tram home. As soon as she got there, she went to her room, and sobbed until she fell asleep. All she could think of was eternal love … and four years. The visions merged as she eventually dropped off to sleep.
CHAPTER 3.
THE SEPARATION
Faith kept to herself the following few days, inconsolable in her grief. She knew there were no problems in her love remaining firm for four years, but her heart sank each time she thought of all the days without Mark. He was the centre of her life, and seeing him did something to her that was beyond description.
Her examinations were only a week away, and she knew that Mark would want her to do well, so she immersed herself in her books. In a way it was good therapy, as it made her concentrate on other things. She confined herself to her room, emerging only for meals. Her only variation of the pattern came when she wrote a letter to Mark, though she knew he would not get it for a long time. It was marked PERSONAL - HOLD TILL ARRIVAL.
Dear Mark,
I am writing this letter just a few days after you left, and the whole thing is still difficult for me to comprehend. I am studying hard for my examinations, like you would want me to do, but I go outside to our meeting place each day and just stand there. I know it is silly, that you are gone, but I dream of you coming out of your house and talking to me. I still expect to see you somehow.
I miss you so very much already. In a way the examinations are a
relief, otherwise I think I would be crying all day. I held myself together as best I could before you left, but inside my heart was breaking. Our moments together have been wonderful, and I will never forget them. I will never, never, stop loving you. Ours is eternal love, as we said. I somehow feel that what we have felt for one another is unique. It was the first time for both of us, we were such innocents. Everything was beautiful, wonderful, glorious.
There is a song I heard on the wireless, I think Lena Horne was singing it. I could only copy down a few lines, but I was very moved. It was called ‘All of a Sudden My Heart Sings.’ The words went something like this:
All of a sudden my heart sings,
When I remember those little things,
The things you say and do
Oh what fun it is to be with you.
I will try to get all the words when my exams are over. Will you try also, and we can call it our own love song? It was sad. Love is sadness, I feel, as well as happiness. Moments are important, and we have had moments like no others have ever had. My heart would sing for you, and still does … ‘All of a Sudden My Heart Sings’.
I remember so very well when you first spoke to me, and my knees almost gave away. I loved it when you invited me to travel to school with you and Frank, “The Two Musketeers and the Musketress”. It was all like a dream; and the Olympics, and what happened to us there, and our last night. I know I should not say it, but I still imagine you inside me. No-one else will ever, ever do that to me. I am yours for life. You know that and I know that.
Everything is much the same here. I have not been able to do much except study, but the weather has been beautiful. I can hardly wait for the exams to be over, so I can go to the beach, be in the sun and the surf, just do nothing for a change.
There were many articles in the paper about you, and they all say Australia should have kept you here, that you have been an outstanding Australian. It is a bit late for that now. It was mentioned that they had never seen such a farewell, the public paying its respects to you. They estimate that three hundred people were at the wharves. Your mother got hundreds of letters and telegrams from all over Australia and she dropped them off at my flat. She knows I am keeping your scrapbook, or I should say scrapbooks.