by Lisa Bigelow
‘Well, you know what I think, son. I’ll take it to Gordon and see what he has to say, but I’m all for it.’
‘Thanks, Sam. I appreciate your support.’
Hmm, a mystery. STAR REPORTER COOKS UP A WINNING STORY IDEA. RUNNER SHAKES UP NEWSROOM. The exchange she’d overheard could mean anything. Was Phil going away? They needed a new bureau chief in Perth; perhaps he’d applied for that? Maybe that was why he’d been so anxious to talk to Sam—he’d wanted to make his case. But what about Caroline? Surely he wouldn’t just go without her. Or maybe something was going on in Canberra. Was Don moving on? No, Phil must be joining up. Maybe he’d taken to heart what that swine Swain had said. Grace knew several of the reporters who’d gone to the front, but not well. Some of the boys from home had gone too. But despite the news reports that she saw each day, the whole notion of war seemed quite distant, an abstraction rather than a reality. There’d been no bombings, hardly any rationing; the only real impact on her life was the odd empty desk in the newsroom, and that might be something she could turn to her advantage. A bit of rough indeed!
CHAPTER 10
* * *
October 1941
DUST BILLOWED FROM THE lounge room curtains whenever Mae slid them open or closed. Mae had been home at the Williamstown cottage for three days, but getting rid of the dust and mustiness needed more than a cursory tidy. The curtains needed to be taken down and washed. The thought of wringing, drying and steaming the heavy drapes made her slump with exhaustion.
Opening the windows to let in the spring breeze, Mae saw a truck pull to a stop out the front. Two young men swung out of the passenger door and immediately lit cigarettes, as though drowning on fresh air alone. An older man slowly eased himself out of the driver’s side door and walked towards Mae’s gate. There was something familiar about him but she couldn’t place him. Without waiting for his knock, Mae met him on the verandah.
‘Mrs Parker?’
‘Yes,’ she said, still searching her mind.
‘Jeremiah Johansson, Mrs Parker. We met in my shop a few months back, in the city. You looked at a buffet in my window?’
‘Oh, yes, Mr Johansson. I remember—such a beautiful piece of furniture.’
‘Mr Parker came to my shop when he was home on leave. I still had the buffet so he bought it and asked me to keep it until he wrote that you were safely home.’
Mr Johansson handed her an envelope and signalled to the other men to begin unloading. As they moved around to the back of the van, Mae read the note.
Dear Mr Johansson,
Thank you again for holding on to the buffet.
Mrs Parker is now recovered and will be at home next week, so please deliver the buffet to the address below.
Regards,
Harry Parker
Mae watched as the men wrestled the buffet through the gate and towards the front door.
‘He came to see me with the dear little poppet in her pram. He was proud as punch.’
‘My goodness. I had no idea. Just give me a moment to clear a space.’
Mae stepped into the front bedroom and dragged the linen chest that sat opposite the bed over to the window. How odd that Harry hadn’t said anything. He must have bought it that dreadful morning he took Katie to his mother’s, she thought sadly, recalling their arguments. She’d been so awful to him. It was no wonder he’d said nothing. He probably regretted the purchase as much as she regretted…If only she’d been able to apologise properly, instead of relying on letters that took weeks to reach him.
After the men left she stared at the buffet in her bedroom, aching to hold him and tell him that she hadn’t meant any of it. Mae slowly arranged her shoes and hats and handbags in the buffet. That wasn’t really what it was designed for, but it would do for now, until it had a proper dining room to live in, with a dining table and chairs and a fireplace glowing in the corner.
Minutes after the truck had left, Claire arrived with Nicholas and her new baby, Ella.
‘I saw from the window—what were they delivering?’
‘Come and see what Harry’s done,’ Mae said. ‘We saw it months ago but decided to wait until we’d built the house. Then, when he was home last month, he went out and bought it to surprise me.’
‘Oh, Mae, it’s glorious,’ Claire said, opening one of the doors and inspecting the shelves. ‘Look, there’s room for a bar in the end cupboards!’
‘Harry’ll love that. I’ll put a bottle of Scotch and some glasses in there for Christmas. That way he’ll hardly have to leave this room.’
Claire giggled as Mae dusted a framed photo of Harry in his uniform and placed it on top of the buffet beside their wedding picture. ‘I can’t believe we own this!’ She beamed, imagining lying in bed beside Harry, the walnut gleaming in the morning light.
‘You’ve both got wonderful taste. It will last a lifetime.’
Mae sighed. ‘Well, as hard as it is to tear myself away, shall we walk first then come back for tea?’
‘We might have to have a picnic here in your bedroom.’
‘The first of many, I hope—when Harry’s home.’
The cloudless sky had lulled Mae and Claire into believing the morning would be perfect for a stroll to the beach with the children. Walking along their street, Mae unbuttoned her coat. She took a deep breath of damp salt air and tipped her hat to shade her face. It was months since she’d felt this calm. She smiled, thinking about the buffet, picturing Harry in Mr Johansson’s shop. How could she ever have doubted how much Harry loved her, how important she was to him…
As the women turned onto the Esplanade, they were blasted by a chilly sou’wester. Barely able to push Katie’s pram into the wind, Mae quickly re-buttoned her coat and the two women hurried to a shelter on the edge of the sand. They flopped onto the wooden bench, warming their backs against the sandstone as they caught their breath.
‘I’m so glad you’re home,’ Claire said, laughing. ‘I’ve missed our walks.’
Nicholas picked up a hand-sized scallop shell and started digging a hole. ‘That’ll keep him busy for ages. Sam once told him that if he dug deep enough he’d dig all the way through to China. He’s never forgotten.’
Mae peered into the pram to check that Katie was still asleep. ‘I was beginning to wonder whether I’d ever do this walk again. Whenever I started to feel better, I’d do too much and end up in bed for a few more days.’
‘Well, you mustn’t overdo things now that you’re back. Just call on me when you need a hand.’
‘That’s very kind. But only a fleet of angels will save me this weekend. I had a telegram from Harry’s mother this morning saying she and Mim are coming to visit on Saturday afternoon.’
‘You sound upset.’
‘I’m terrified.’
‘But why? Harry said his family adores you.’
‘His brothers are lovely, but Harry’s sister Mim is fiercely protective of him and his mother…well, he’s the eldest and the favourite. In Elizabeth’s eyes, even the Virgin Mary wouldn’t be good enough for her son.’
‘Oh dear! But surely she just wants to make sure that you’re fully recovered and managing with Katie.’
‘She promised Harry she’d keep an eye on me, but I know she’s just coming over to find fault with everything; she always does. And the house just isn’t up to one of her inspections.’
‘I can help you get things ready, do a bit of cleaning.’
‘Thanks, Claire, but I’m not going to do too much this time. Elizabeth will just have to make allowances.’
‘Have you seen her since Harry’s visit?’
‘No. I’m a bit surprised she’s stayed away from Katie for six weeks, but I’m glad. I couldn’t bear to listen to her prattling on about her perfect son.’
‘I thought that was the one thing you two agreed on: that Harry’s the most perfect man ever to walk the earth.’
‘He is, most of the time. When he’s home I couldn’t be happier, but sometim
es—oh, I don’t know. Sometimes when he’s been away for a while it feels like he’s a complete stranger, different from what I remember.’
‘How do you mean?’
Mae hesitated. ‘It’s nothing. I’m sure I was still recuperating. We argued a bit—actually, quite a lot—when he was home last month. I tried so hard to be perfect, and it all went wrong.’ Mae’s voice quavered as the tears began to flow.
‘Mae! You poor thing. I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.’
‘It was awful.’ Mae blew her nose. ‘I got upset with him for visiting his family and for —well, I don’t know—for being so cheerful. How silly is that? I spent months wishing him home and then I spent the whole time upset with him. He must have thought I was a mad woman.’
‘Don’t be silly. Look how much he cares. He sent that lovely gift today.’
‘Yes, but he bought that beforehand.’
‘Sometimes, when Sam’s working long hours on a big story, I barely recognise him. He gets cranky, can’t stand any noise from the children. He yells and stomps, just wants to be alone. But once he’s had a good night’s sleep, he’s a lamb.’
‘What do you do when he’s like that?’
‘I try not to get upset, let Nicholas know that he hasn’t done anything wrong, that Daddy’s just tired. When he feels better, he tries to make up for it by being a saint, taking in the waifs and strays that wander through the newsroom. We had a lovely young boy from the country staying with us while you were away. The poor thing was so shy, and he had the worst skin you’ve ever seen. He cried himself to sleep every night for the first few weeks. But then he found his feet. Sam says the lad was adopted by the police rounds boys, but I think he might have met a girl. Anyway, he moved into a flat with some of the reporters. Sam says he’s really stepped up his work as well. I must bake him some sausage rolls. They’re probably terrible for his skin but he loves them.’
‘Claire, I don’t know where you find the energy to look after so many people.’
‘I enjoy it, and you’ll do the same when you feel better. Just give yourself some time, build yourself up for when Harry comes home. Is he still planning to be back for Christmas?’
‘He says so—New Year at the latest. Just a few more months.’
‘Sam will be happy to hear that. He can’t wait to take him to the football, although they’ll have to wait till next season now.’
‘Harry was disappointed not to see you when he was home. He wanted to thank you for helping when Katie was born.’
‘I was so scared, Mae. I can hardly bear to think about it.’
Mae squeezed Claire’s arm. ‘I can’t wait for the New Year. We’ll all have so much to celebrate.’
Early on the morning of Elizabeth’s visit, Mae surveyed the house: still filthy. She decided to bake first, then clean. As she washed and dried two mixing bowls, she heard a quiet knock at the kitchen door. Claire stood on the bottom step holding a stack of biscuit tins.
‘Claire! Is something wrong? The children? Sam?’
Claire shook her head and held the tins out. ‘I hope you don’t mind my coming so early. I’ve been baking for the reporters and I made some extra for Elizabeth’s visit.’
Mae opened the screen door and Claire climbed the three rickety steps. Mae prised the top off one of the tins to find a dozen fresh lamingtons. The next held a cream sponge with passionfruit icing. The third was filled with melting moments.
Mae turned and hugged her friend. ‘Your timing’s perfect. It looks delicious. I can’t thank you enough. She certainly won’t be able to criticise the catering.’
‘Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think. After all, you’re the mother of her first grandchild. If she gets you offside, she won’t get to see Katie.’
Elizabeth and Mim tucked into Claire’s baking as though they hadn’t eaten for a week.
‘Goodness, Mae, however did you find time to do all of this?’ Mim asked.
‘It was no trouble at all,’ Mae replied, biting into a cucumber sandwich; she’d made those herself.
‘You seem so much better,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Katie’s thriving.’
Mae saw Elizabeth’s eyes darting from the rim of her teacup, around the room and back to her teacup. Mae shifted sideways in her seat as she realised her mother-in-law was struggling to pull her gaze away from the cobwebs in the corner of the dirty grey ceiling. Mae had learned to overlook the grimy paintwork and the peeling wallpaper. Without their modern lounge suite, the room would have been a complete hovel. But seeing the scene through the older woman’s eyes, Mae felt her stomach tighten. She took another sip of warm milky tea.
Mim tried to daintily nibble a biscuit but it fell to crumbs in her lap. Pretending nothing had happened, she used the side of her hand to wipe the crumbs into a pile and then pushed them from her skirt onto the floor. ‘We were so worried when we heard you were returning home on your own against Harry’s wishes,’ she said as more of the crumbs settled on the rug around her shoes.
Annoyed by the mess she was making, it occurred to Mae that, at sixteen, Mim was turning into her mother. She was assuming the same haughty tone, adopting similar mannerisms, even the throaty laugh.
‘I’m feeling much better, thank you, and I have wonderful neighbours who help in all sorts of ways.’
‘That’s very reassuring, my dear,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Harry will be most relieved when I let him know how well you are doing. Now tell me, did you get a letter today? We had two in the morning post.’
Mae had received a long letter earlier in the week, she told them. ‘He couldn’t say very much of course. He mostly talked about what a wonderful time he’d had here in Melbourne and said they’ve been over in Fiji and training in the Pacific. Now they’re back in Perth, but hopefully not for too long.’
‘It’s such a shame that you can’t just get on a train and move over there,’ Elizabeth said. ‘That way you could see him whenever he’s in port. He said some of the other wives have been taking rooms in Fremantle.’
Mae concentrated on keeping her voice even. ‘Did he now! Well, until a few weeks ago, I could barely walk. I couldn’t possibly manage a week-long train trip with Katie right now. And we don’t have the money. Not when we’re saving for our house.’
Elizabeth’s mouth stretched into a tight smile. Her eyes remained cold. ‘Of course, dear. If only you were stronger. And you must think of the future. I wish I’d been so sensible when I was your age. But nothing could have stopped me travelling around the countryside to be near Harry’s father. It did mean the children rarely went to the same school two years in a row, but we just had to make do so we could be together. I’m glad we had so much time together before he passed on. I guess your situation is different.’
Mae could feel the perspiration beading beneath the linen collar she’d fixed at her throat with a brooch. The dreadful woman had no idea what she was saying. Harry’s ship could suddenly arrive in Melbourne while she was on the train to Perth. Then what would they do? Her hands tightened their grip on the sides of her chair.
‘Harry says he’ll be home around Christmas and back to teaching.’
‘Are you sure about that, Mae?’ Elizabeth said. ‘Now they’ve got him on a ship, they won’t rush to post him back to land. And I’d be surprised if he chose to give that up for teaching.’
‘What do you mean? He said he couldn’t wait to get back home.’
‘The Sydney’s everything he’s dreamed of. He’s worked for this chance his whole life, and it’s wartime. It’s a lot for him to give up just to be a teacher.’
‘Our plans all centre around Harry being in Melbourne.’
‘Plans change, life changes. Do you want to be the wife who made her husband miss the chance to fight for his country on the pride of the fleet?’
Mae was aware that both women were staring at her, watching her reaction. They were ganging up on her, but Elizabeth’s speech seemed rehearsed. What if they weren’t her thoughts, but Harry’s? Co
uld he have said something to his mother about not wanting to come home?
‘Harry said he wants me to start planning our new home so we can start building next year.’
‘I see. And how will you go about building a house forty miles away in Frankston while living in Williamstown without a car or telephone?’
‘We’ve decided to build on my block in Yarraville, near my family,’ Mae said, aware that they hadn’t agreed at all but unable to stop herself speaking.
‘You are? Well, I must say I’m surprised. Harry has always been adamant that your mother’s land was yours to hold on to for a rainy day; that it’s his job to provide for his family. You must have a special way of wearing him down.’
Mae rose from her seat, jerked the teapot away from the small table and marched into the kitchen for more hot water. Silly cow, she thought, stomping down the hallway. A wife’s job was to keep the home fires burning, not to follow her husband around like a puppy. To make him a beautiful home that he never wanted to leave. And to make sure it didn’t have enough room for Elizabeth when she grew old and feeble and needed nursing. Mim could look forward to that lovely task on her own.
As Mae returned to the lounge room, she heard her name being whispered. She felt a headache brewing in her temples.
‘There you are. Mim and I were just talking about the parcel we’re putting together for Harry’s birthday. I’ll make his favourite fruitcake so he can share it with the crew. He has so many friends on board, it will have to be a large one. And Mim has knitted him some new socks. What will you be sending, Mae?’
Mae hadn’t given Harry’s birthday a thought. It was nearly a month away. She bit her lip and tried to decide what he might like. A new sketchbook? Or perhaps a book of poems; he’d said he loved the Tennyson she’d quoted in her last letter. But best not to suggest that; Elizabeth thought poetry was for dreamers and fools. ‘Harry bought some lovely dark blue silk in Singapore. I’ve been meaning to make up a shirt for him.’