by Lisa Bigelow
Grace glanced at the spare chair beside Barbara, loaded with their coats. She’d been looking forward to her night out with the girls all week, but that afternoon Barbara had mentioned that the women’s page editor, Avril Johnson, would be joining them. Grace had spotted Avril on her first day at work: tall, platinum blonde and impeccably dressed in the finest tailored suits, she was Torchy Blane incarnate. Avril glided instead of walking and she seemed also to have Torchy’s confidence. When Avril wanted to see Sam, she often bypassed Grace all together, calling his name from across the newsroom as she homed in on his desk. A slight grimace usually preceded his polite smile as she approached. He’d never said anything disparaging about Avril, but Grace could tell from the way his mouth tightened when he spoke to her that she set him on edge. Keen to make a good impression on Avril, Grace carefully nursed a port and lemonade while the other girls drank glasses of beer from a jug.
‘Would you like a cigarette, Grace?’ Barbara asked, offering her tin of Craven As.
‘Thank you, but I don’t—’ Grace stopped abruptly as Barbara suddenly straightened in her seat and her gaze shifted over Grace’s shoulder towards the door behind her.
‘Good evening, ladies,’ Avril said as Barbara whisked the entire coat pile into her own lap. ‘Thank you for saving me a seat.’
‘I wasn’t sure you’d come to a place like this,’ Barbara said.
‘Nonsense. It’s important for reporters to stay in touch with the hoi polloi, no matter how senior their position,’ Avril purred as she removed her gloves and placed them in her handbag.
The two secretaries, who had been wearing their gloves while they drank their beers, hurriedly removed them under the table.
Avril was at least five years older than Grace. The rumour was that although she had never married, she had no shortage of men friends who took her to the city’s most fashionable restaurants. She was always immaculately turned out, like something from the fashion pages. She must get good discounts from the retailers, Grace thought. Or maybe she got free samples.
‘Miss Fowler, so lovely to see you away from that desk. Sam must make you work the most frightful hours.’
‘I enjoy it, Miss Johnson,’ Grace said. She managed to refrain from blushing, but her skin prickled as she became the centre of the table’s attention.
‘Do you drink riesling, Miss Fowler? I’m about to order a bottle. I know Barbara will join me.’
‘I’m fine, thank you. It will take me a while to finish this. And please, call me Grace.’ Grace followed Avril’s gaze down to her glass that, thankfully, looked more like red wine than the sweet drink she’d ordered, hoping it looked more sophisticated than beer.
When Avril brought the wine back to the table and poured two glasses, she proposed a toast. ‘To Barbara. Congratulations on your engagement, darling.’
‘Engagement!’ screeched Del. ‘You minx, you never said anything.’
‘Avril made me promise to save it for tonight, so we could all celebrate together.’
‘When? How? Tell us all the gories!’ Del demanded. ‘Do you have a ring yet?’
Barbara described how her fiancé Andrew had asked her father for her hand before proposing at her parents’ house in Gippsland over the weekend. He’d given her his late mother’s ring, marcasite surrounding a single diamond.
‘And the wedding?’ Del asked. ‘Have you set a date?’
‘We’re planning on late May, when it’s cool but not quite winter.’
‘Very sensible, Barbara—much better for dressing up,’ Avril said, before she switched her attention back to Grace.
‘So, Miss Fowler—sorry, Grace—what are your ambitions? Working till you marry your school sweetheart? Fishing for a reporter? Maybe your soldier is overseas?’
‘She’s got a thing for Phil. You should see her blush whenever he talks to her!’ Del said.
Grace felt her skin redden. She couldn’t speak. How on earth did Del know that? ‘I don’t,’ she gasped, wishing she could slide under the table.
‘Oh, you poor dear.’ Avril laughed. ‘Our very own Olympian scores another member for his cheer squad.’
The other girls laughed. Barbara put her arm around Grace’s shoulder. ‘All the girls love Phil,’ she explained. ‘He’s a complete darling, but he’s never dated anyone at the newspaper, has he, Avril?’
‘I’ll only say that running’s not the only thing he deserves a medal for.’
Grace stared at Avril, who looked far too pleased with herself to be joking.
‘Don’t listen to her, Grace,’ Barbara said. ‘She’s just teasing. Avril always says he’s too young for her.’
‘To marry, Barbara—I said he was too young to marry! But Caroline’s proving me wrong on that front. They’ll be announcing any day now.’
Grace lifted her drink and drained the last inch and a half in one swallow.
‘That’s the girl. Here, have some wine.’ Avril poured some riesling into Grace’s glass.
Grace took a sip. It was surprisingly sweet and fruity, not nearly as bitter as beer.
‘Well I hope they’ll be very happy,’ Grace said as her stomach warmed. It felt like she was blushing inside. OLYMPIAN AND DEBUTANTE TIE THE KNOT. OLYMPIAN WINS DEBUTANTE’S HEART.
‘Speaking of happy marriages, when are you finishing up, Barb?’ Del asked.
‘Two weeks before the wedding,’ Barbara replied.
‘After all the time I’ve spent training you, now I have to start again with someone new,’ Avril said. ‘Such a waste. But those are the rules: as soon as you marry you have to give up work. That’s why I won’t marry anyone who isn’t rich. I couldn’t stand spending all day stuck in the suburbs with nothing to do and nowhere to go.’
Grace’s heart fluttered. She’d never told anyone at work about her dream of becoming a reporter, but she’d be crazy not to try for Barb’s job. If she didn’t grab this chance, she’d have to wait until the next reporter decided to marry. That could take years.
‘How will you choose a replacement? Will you take a cadet?’ Grace asked.
‘Oh, we have a long list of hopefuls; daughters of editors and society types, girls who are already well connected.’
Grace poured herself another wine. ‘You won’t look at applications from outside?’
‘No need. There are already plenty to choose from, aren’t there, Barb?’
‘Yes, you’ll hardly know I’m gone.’
‘Well, this party needs a lift—food anyone?’ Del asked.
Grace was starting to feel dizzy. She didn’t know whether it was from the wine or all the rotten news she’d heard tonight. If this was a night out with the girls, she wasn’t sure she wanted to do it again. She thought of pleading a headache and leaving, putting the night behind her. But Barb seemed nice; she wanted to stay and be part of her celebration. Maybe food would help, and a bit more wine might calm her down. That was the way it worked, wasn’t it? Her father always said a few drinks helped him to forget his troubles. She was beginning to feel like she had a few troubles of her own. What if Del told Phil that Grace was sweet on him? What if half the newsroom knew? How could she convince Sam to override Avril and give her a chance in Barbara’s job? GLUM SECRETARY ASKS: WHAT WOULD TORCHY DO?
CHAPTER 7
* * *
September 1941
My darling Sunny,
I am delighted to hear that both of you are getting along nicely and I’m anxious to come and see for myself. I requested weekend leave for next Friday but it wasn’t granted.
We all expect leave now that we are in the east, but at this point it seems no nearer than when we were in the west. I can’t wait to see Katie’s smile. You say she is a pretty little baby. Well that’s only to be expected when she has such a lovely mother.
That is all of my news for the moment, so I will close with lots of love—all of it to you and a big kiss for the smiler.
Your devoted and loving Harry
Mae pressed
on her stomach with one hand and used the other to hoist herself into a more comfortable position. Four months had passed since Katie’s birth, but moving about still required effort. Struggling to stand for more than five minutes, Mae relied on her uncles to walk with Katie when she cried.
‘You forget, Mae, we looked after you when you were a baby,’ William said, gently jiggling the baby on his shoulder until she burped.
‘You do have a knack for coaxing wind.’
‘It’s not the first time I’ve been told that,’ William said, reaching over to lay Katie down on the bed between Mae and the wall. ‘Would you like me to burp you too?’
‘That will be quite enough out of you,’ said Mae, clutching her stomach again as she tried not to laugh.
Katie had refused to settle that night. She fed, but she refused to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time.
‘Shhhhhh,’ Mae whispered, as William left the room. ‘You’ve worn Uncle William out and Et will be grumpy if you wake her too early.’
Katie wailed again. It was just after six and Mae barely heard the knock at the door.
The floor shook as Et stomped along the hallway. ‘That will be the neighbours complaining about the noise,’ she huffed. ‘Well they’d better get used to it because babies cry, and they get louder as they get bigger.’
Mae heard the door open, but instead of raised voices, she heard a muffled squeal and the shuffle of footsteps heading down the hall. A tall figure strode into her room, threw his hat on the chair and scooped her into his arms.
‘It’s so good to see you,’ Harry said, kissing her cheeks and forehead and her lips.
‘I had no idea you were coming,’ she sobbed. ‘How long—?’
‘Just the weekend.’
Mae hugged him tighter.
‘Dear little Sunny, are you still in pain?’
She shook her head and pulled away just enough so she could see his face. ‘It only hurts when I laugh. And when I walk. And lift. Really, I’m much better.’
Mae followed Harry’s eyes down to the small bundle lying quietly beside her. He reached over and picked the baby up, holding her towards the window and the early-morning light. Holding her breath, Mae watched as her husband cradled his child for the first time. His eyes moved over Katie’s face, taking in her tiny nose, her bow lips, her chubby little chin. He moved the blanket down and pulled out one of her hands, which wrapped itself around his little finger. Her eyelids twitched as she drifted toward sleep. He kissed her head then stood and put her in the pram, which still doubled as a bassinette.
‘You’ve made a lovely baby, Mrs Parker,’ he said softly.
‘Thank you, Mr Parker, but I can’t take all the credit.’
Slipping his shoes off, Harry slid under the blanket beside her and pulled her close. ‘I can’t tell you how worried I’ve been. I thought I’d die if something happened to you. And when I finally heard the news, I was desperate to see you, just for five minutes, just to make sure you were all right.’
Mae stroked his shoulder and ran her hand through his hair. ‘I was so scared I wouldn’t see you again or that the baby would die. If it wasn’t for Claire—’
‘How long till you recover?’
‘The doctor says another few months. But I won’t stay here that long.’
‘Don’t rush it, Sunny. Stay till Christmas or New Year, then I’ll be home to look after you both.’
‘Really?’
‘That’s the plan. Back to teaching on dry land. Our boys should be right to go overseas by then.’
‘That’s good, darling. As long as it’s what you want. And you’re not sad that—that we’ll never have a son? I couldn’t stand it if you were.’
‘Of course not. You’re still here and we have a beaut little girl. I’m going to spoil her rotten. I’ll buy her dollies from all over the world. Do you think she’d like a train set? Or a pony?’
‘I’m sure she’d love both. And you can teach her to draw and play the violin. She already makes as much noise as you do.’
Harry kissed her again. ‘And I can watch her grow. If she looks like you, I’ll be able to imagine you in all the years before we met.’
‘She might look more like you. What will you do then?’
‘I’ll just have to pretend.’ Harry slid carefully out of bed. ‘I have something for you,’ he said, rustling through the duffel bag he’d dropped on the floor. ‘Close your eyes.’ He placed a parcel on her lap. ‘Okay, now open.’
Mae clapped her hands together like a five-year-old then carefully slipped off the string and brown paper. Inside was a Chinese box, lacquered in bright red enamel. She flipped the brass clasp and lifted the lid. An embroidered silk pouch sat inside. Mae loosened the ribbon at the top of the pouch and removed a jade bracelet carved with Chinese dragons.
‘How gorgeous,’ she said, slipping the bracelet onto her wrist and holding it up to the light. ‘Just lovely. Wherever did you find it?’
Harry chuckled. ‘A market in Singapore. I knew you’d love it as soon as I saw it. It’s almost translucent, like your skin.’
‘Thank you, darling, it’s beautiful and the box will be perfect for keeping your letters. Everything is perfect, just perfect.’
Katie’s cries roused them an hour later.
‘She certainly has a powerful set of lungs on her,’ Harry said, carrying the baby into the kitchen.
‘We were wondering when you two would emerge,’ William said, rising to shake Harry’s free hand. ‘What do you think of young Katie here? Bit of a treat, isn’t she?’
Et grabbed the kettle off the stove and filled the teapot. ‘Are you ready for breakfast? We’ve been waiting. I’ve made enough porridge to sink a ship!’
Harry walked over and threw his arm around her shoulders, kissing her on the cheek. ‘With treacle? I can’t think of anything better.’
Et giggled then gave the porridge another stir. ‘She likes to be rocked rather than jiggled,’ she said. ‘Just lay her sideways and sway a bit. That will settle her.’
Harry was amazed when Katie nodded off immediately. He looked around the room triumphantly, as though he was the first father ever to stop his baby from crying.
‘You look well, son—a bit underfed, but the salt air obviously agrees with you,’ William said.
‘The chef makes porridge but it’s nothing like yours, Et. In fact, none of the food’s much chop.’ Harry winked at Mae’s aunt. ‘Three days of your home cooking will be heaven.’
‘Does your mother know you’re home?’ William asked, glancing at Mae, who scowled as she poured the tea.
Harry sat down at the table, still holding the baby, and tucked into a bowl filled to the brim. ‘I’ll call her after breakfast, if you don’t mind me using the telephone.’
Et pushed the cream jug towards Harry. ‘I imagine Elizabeth will want to see you today. Will you go to visit?’
‘I’d like to, but I’m not sure whether Mae’s up to travelling.’
‘Tell Elizabeth she’s quite welcome here,’ Et said. ‘The whole family. Just let me know how many are coming before the shops close at noon.’
Mae reached over and took Katie, who began sucking noisily on her bottle. ‘Et, that’s too much. You can’t do an open house on such short notice. Who will work in the shop this morning?’
‘Mrs Green and her daughter are running the shop. I’ve already asked them. I’ll bake a sponge with Mrs Watson’s eggs and William can get a leg of mutton if we’re having a houseful for dinner.’
‘Don’t tell me that ratty old hen’s still going?’ Harry asked. ‘Still pecking everyone’s ankles?’
‘She still lays like a trooper. Lovely big golden yolks. We’ve got six layers now, but she rules the roost. Even crows like a rooster.’
Harry smiled. ‘Et, if you’re going to all that trouble, you’ll be needing a special treat.’ He walked to the door and disappeared for a few moments. He returned holding a parcel. ‘After the way you’ve lo
oked after my girls I couldn’t come home empty-handed.’ He leaned down and kissed her cheek again.
Et carefully untied the string, winding it into a small ball for reuse, then unwrapped the package, smoothing the paper against the table as she went. She gasped as she opened the final layer to reveal heavy black silk embroidered with red, pink and gold flowers. She stood and held the robe against herself, the dense material falling to her ankles. ‘Oh, Harry. It’s far too good for me. I’ll put it away and Katie can have it when she’s older.’
‘Nonsense. It’s to make you feel like a queen. Katie will have plenty of her own clothes.’
Mae had never seen Et so thrilled. Of course she deserved thanks. Mae mentally kicked herself for not doing more to show her appreciation. She’d begin by cooking dinner in the evenings, she decided, and today she’d offer to do the vegies for the roast.
At lunchtime, Harry’s mother Elizabeth, his younger sister Mim, and his younger brothers Richard and Eric climbed the front stairs onto the verandah, the boys calling Harry’s name. When William opened the door, they almost knocked him sideways in their rush to shake Harry’s hand and slap his back.
Mae walked slowly into the hallway to greet the visitors. She needn’t have bothered. Harry had Elizabeth hugging him from the front and Mim hugging from the back.
‘Where’s my granddaughter?’ Elizabeth demanded from beneath a purple velvet hat, a net veil over her eyes. ‘I want to see her with her father.’ Harry’s mother always wore the same old-fashioned outfit on Sundays: a white pin-tucked blouse under a grey jacket and an ankle-length skirt. She hated ‘peacockery’ and frivolity, she declared, and everything associated with fashion. She wouldn’t dream of buying anything at Et’s dress shop when she still had children at home to feed.
Et handed Katie to Harry. ‘Here we are, Daddy.’