by Lisa Bigelow
Albert gently steered her to a chair. ‘I have to show you these.’ He opened his coat and pulled out the morning newspapers, laying them on the table. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you and the wee one too early, but I knew you’d want to see.’
Mae looked at The Gazette without touching it.
CRUISER SYDNEY MISSING
FEARED LOST WITH ALL 645 HANDS
SANK ENEMY RAIDER
Tears didn’t come, just hard clarity, cold and bright like crystal. She read every word, looking for information she hadn’t already heard, a fact that would take the story in a different direction. Seeing the words printed in black and white didn’t change her conviction that someone had made a hideous mistake. The words jumbled and shifted on the page. FEARED LOST: well that wasn’t actually lost. Not lost for sure. And anyway, when something was lost it could be found. Gone would be more decisive and the report didn’t say that. Extensive search by air and surface units to locate survivors continues. There it was—they were searching for survivors, not for wreckage. There would be survivors and then they would be found, not lost.
Albert stepped forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. Mae slowly rose from the table, letting his hand fall as she put one of Katie’s bottles into a saucepan of hot water. Staring straight ahead like a sleepwalker, she left Albert in the kitchen while she changed the baby then brought her back to the table and fed her.
Albert spoke carefully. ‘They’re still searching—nothing’s set in stone.’
Mae stared at the newspaper on the table, mechanically wiping the baby’s face then putting her over her shoulder.
Albert blew his nose and dabbed his eyes with his hanky. ‘Would you like me to take her to Et for the day? She could bring her back when she closes the shop.’
Mae patted Katie’s back. ‘I couldn’t possibly—it’s too much trouble for you, managing a pram on the train.’
‘I’ll survive. Get her ready and we’ll give you some peace for the day. Time to collect your thoughts.’
Mae wobbled as she stood.
‘Are you going to be all right?’ Albert scooped Katie from her arms.
Mae’s gaze returned to the paper.
‘We’ll come back for tea, unless you need us sooner.’
Mae nodded. ‘Tea will be fine. I’ve got to finish my cleaning.’
‘Perhaps you should both come and stay with us?’
Mae’s head slumped forward slightly, as though it were too heavy for her neck. ‘They’ll find survivors any moment now,’ she said, ‘just like they’re finding the Germans. They only know to send word here.’
Albert rocked Katie then laid her in the pram beside the kitchen door. ‘We’re all desperately worried about him,’ he said, patting her hand. ‘Everyone’s praying and praying.’
As soon as Albert left, Mae spread the newspapers across the table. The vast number of missing men barely registered; Mae only thought of Harry. She’d heard it said that when you died your life flashed before your eyes. As she sat there staring at the paper, glimpses of her life with Harry flooded her mind. She imagined herself walking beside him at the zoo, her hand nestled warmly between his arm and his ribs. She saw him riding his motorbike, grinning beneath his leather helmet and goggles. He loved that bike. She’d tried to ride pillion a couple of times, but it was too frightening when he leaned into the corners. It was the only time she’d struggled to trust him. They’d had to compromise, only holidaying in places Mae could reach by train while Harry rode his motorbike.
Their happiest holidays were with Alice and Jim, Harry’s best friend and shipmate. Mae wondered how Alice was getting on. She’d have had the telegrams too, about Jim. She knew she should telephone, but any hint of fear in Alice’s voice would make the situation far too real. She closed her eyes and pictured Alice giggling at one of Jim’s silly jokes, the one about the dinosaur:
How do you ask a tyrannosaur out to lunch?
Tea, Rex?
He always snorted with laughter at his own jokes. Sometimes that was the funniest part.
Mae and Harry met Alice and Jim when they moved to Sydney just after their wedding. Harry and Jim were stationed together at Jervis Bay and Mae took country girl Alice under her wing, introducing her to city life. In the seven years that Mae had known Alice, her friend had given birth to two healthy boys but lost her mother to cancer, her father to a heart attack and both her brothers to the war. Now Jim was missing too.
Mae folded the newspapers and put them on top of the woodpile, ready for burning. She washed her cup and rinsed the teapot then wiped the table. Now that she had a day to herself, she’d concentrate on cleaning the bathroom then sort Harry’s clothes for summer and stow his winter woollens in a suitcase.
She looked at the papers again, then took them from the woodpile and tucked them in a drawer under the tea towels, so she could show Harry when he came home. You’ll laugh about the whole adventure, won’t you, darling? You’ll brag about sinking the German ship then racing to an island to fix your engines with bamboo and rubber strips straight from the trees. You’ll tell us how you drank out of coconuts and swam in a lagoon while the natives played music and let their children run wild. When we grow old, we’ll tell the grandchildren your story together, finishing each other’s sentences. The dream image of Harry disappearing behind the wave flashed into her mind again. She felt the prickle of sun and the sand on her body. She heard the waves and the birds, and felt the helplessness of not being able to reach him.
Raindrops pattered on the window panes and slowly dribbled down the window towards the frame.
They’re all wrong, aren’t they, Harry, the papers, the gossips? You can’t have given up, not yet. I know you’ve got all the strength you need to fight this, unless—unless you had no choice. I know the only thing that would stop you fighting is being so badly hurt that you couldn’t—
A car drove past the front of the house, its tyres splashing along the wet road. There was no sound of children playing outside, no birds singing, no repairmen lopping trees or fixing fences.
You’re not trying to tell me…goodbye…are you, my darling?
Mae felt a chill shiver along her spine. She belted the dressing-gown tighter around her waist and willed herself to imagine a day that was sunny instead of grey, a day that would wash this nightmare away like a wave breaking and disappearing as it ran onto the sand.
CHAPTER 18
* * *
4 December 1941
MAE AND ALICE SAT on a wooden bench under Mae’s kitchen window, a wicker basket piled with damp towels, sheets and nappies at their feet. Both women sagged against the wall, staring straight ahead, no energy for pegging. Mae had spent hours the previous day boiling, scrubbing and bleaching her washing, then she forgot to hang it on the clothesline.
Alice’s boys—five-year-old Josh and three-year-old Jeremy—were chasing each other up and down the narrow strip of concrete that stretched from the women’s feet to the fence. It was a good idea to surround herself with people, Mae told herself. But Alice looked so morbid, with her cheeks sunken and dark smudges under eyes that constantly streamed with tears. And the boys were running wild. They didn’t understand what was happening or why they should play quietly. At least Katie was asleep in her pram. Mae hoped the boys would wear themselves out then settle down. Mae needed to gather her thoughts, steel herself for what was coming; the place and the event that had no relevance to her life. A memorial service—ridiculous! The search had barely begun; the papers had only just run the story. It was crazy, yet there were services happening right across the country tomorrow, in every city, in churches of every denomination, with guest lists more akin to a royal visit.
Alice and her children had arrived on the train that afternoon, so that the women could go to the service at Scots’ Church together. Mae had rung the farm when news of the memorials arrived via telegram, just a day after the news reports in the papers. Mae recalled little of that conversation, just that Alice
kept saying, Whatever you think, Mae, whatever you think. So Mae must have decided which service they’d attend, which nights her guests would stay. Now here they were, in what seemed like just a blink of time since Albert had arrived with the newspaper. Her life was like that at the moment: flashes of situations, as though she were in a strangely edited film with the scenes flickering to life then changing moments later with nothing to link them.
A squeal from Jeremy recalled her to the backyard scene. The boys were shrieking with laughter, treating the excursion as an adventure. Coming from the farm, the children had been up before dawn, but they showed no sign of tiring yet. But they weren’t naughty. No tantrums, no making a mess of their food. Alice had taught them well. And as boisterous as they were, every now and then Jeremy toddled over to Alice and gave her a cuddle before running off to play again.
‘He knows,’ Alice sighed as he did it again. ‘Sometimes he just snuggles up and pats my arm, like I’m his puppy. Today on the train I couldn’t stop crying. He put his arms around me and stroked my hair for a minute or two then slipped away to play with the other kids. Not a word.’
‘Such lovely boys,’ Mae said, her eyes closed against the sunlight. ‘What have you told them?’
‘The day after the first telegram I said Daddy’s boat was lost.’ Alice dabbed her eyes with her hanky. ‘Josh got the atlas off the shelf and asked me to show him where. He wanted to go and look for him.’
‘I’m sure he senses that Jim’s alive. They both must. That’s why they’re being so good, so you can tell Jim what brave boys they’ve been.’
‘If that were true, they would have found some kind of sign by now. A lifeboat or something.’
Mae stood and picked up a sheet, began pegging it on the line nearest the fence. ‘They’re still searching. Harry and Jim could be holed up anywhere along the coast just waiting for rescue.’
‘But the memorial services; the prime minister’s coming to the one at St Paul’s. He wouldn’t do that if he wasn’t sure.’ Alice rose too and started pegging nappies. Then she pulled her hanky out of her skirt pocket again and blew her nose. ‘I’ve got to be practical, Mae, with two boys and another bub on the way. I can’t sail off to fairyland.’
‘Another baby? You should have said.’ Mae reached out and hugged her friend. ‘Jim will be so pleased. When are you due?’
‘Around the end of May or early June.’
‘See? It’s a sign.’
‘Hopefully the weather will cool off before I get really big. I’ll need to get the wheat harvest in. Get it baled and stored.’
‘It’s wonderful; a new life to keep your spirits up while you wait for Jim.’
Alice sat down again, wiping at her tears. ‘Raising three children on a widow’s pension and whatever I can eke out of the farm. I just don’t know how we’re going to manage.’
The boys stopped their game, ran over and squirmed into Alice’s lap, little brown arms circling her neck. ‘Kisses to make Mummy better,’ Jeremy said as he made wet smacking sounds against her cheek before Josh dragged him off by the hand and the pair of them raced around the side of the house.
Mae returned to her washing, shaking out two pillowcases then pegging them back-to-back on either side of the wire. Her situation wasn’t so different. Alice had inherited her farm. Mae owned some land. Her family had offered to loan her the money for a house but Harry was adamant they’d manage on his salary. She hadn’t told him yet, but she planned to return to work and help save for their home as soon as she could. Motherhood certainly wasn’t what she’d expected. There was little joy to be had in spending endless days alone with a baby who couldn’t walk or talk, who depended on her for everything. She missed working. She missed adult conversation. She missed shopping without a pram and dressing in a blouse that lasted the entire day without needing changing because of the baby. As far as she could see, the only good part about motherhood was making Harry happy. He’d said he didn’t mind not having more after Katie, but had he really meant it? Was he already looking at other families and longing for more children? Would he resent her for not giving him more?
Mae shook out a towel and tried to slow her mind, silently chanting the words that had become her prayer: He’s got plenty of reasons to come home; he wants to come home. Lord, please bring him home.
Alice sorted the damp socks into two piles for pegging, matching and odds, sighing as the odds pile grew higher. Looking towards the side of the house she tilted her head and listened. ‘The boys are a bit quiet, don’t you think?’
Mae looked past the sheets. ‘I don’t see them.’
Alice walked around the corner of the house, towards the tree where Mae had parked Katie in her pram. ‘Stop that this instant!’ she shrieked. ‘Oh, Mae, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. There, there pet,’ she crooned.
Alice rushed back to Mae carrying Katie, whose face and blanket were black with briquette dust, her pink mouth open as she roared her disapproval.
Jeremy joined the crying, tears wetting his blackened hands. ‘Just helping, Mummy,’ he wailed. ‘We put coals in the barrow.’
‘It’s Katie’s pram, not a wheelbarrow. Josh, you should know better. Get those briquettes out now and put them back in the bag. Mae, I’m so sorry. I had no idea…’
‘Daddy said I have to be the man, I have to help,’ Josh said sternly, his hands rammed deep into his pockets.
‘You’re big enough to see Katie sleeping in the pram. You could have hurt her. Now look at the mess we have to clean up!’
As Alice rocked Katie, Mae stood completely still, her arms hugged tightly across her chest.
‘She’s all right, Mae; she’s fine, just a bit dirty.’
Seeing Alice holding the blackened bundle she knew she should run to soothe her child, but her feet felt like ten-tonne weights. She dropped her arms and forced herself to move towards the baby. Pull yourself together. Give him every reason to come home.
CHAPTER 19
* * *
5 December 1941
MAE SHUDDERED IN HER bed as wind whipped open the manhole cover in the ceiling outside her bedroom, then slammed it closed again. There was nothing she could do to stop it making her jump with fright through the night. Not that she’d seriously attempted sleep. Nights of lying awake worrying had taught her to dread the silent hours punctuated by the cuckoo clock in the lounge room striking three, four and five every morning. When sleep did arrive, it was fleeting. And of course, sleep also brought the nightmare of losing Harry in the waves. She longed for the moments where her mind let her feel him close even though it demanded the payment of loss, over and over.
Wrung out by endless nocturnal ups and downs, the best she could hope for was enough rest to keep her going, especially today. The thought of dressing and going to the memorial service to be surrounded by her family and hundreds of strangers felt dreamlike, unreal. She felt like she was on a stage, with people around her acting out a play that she didn’t understand. She couldn’t remember her lines. What was she supposed to do? Where was she supposed to stand?
Mae tried to keep busy. Alice had brought an old black frock to wear to the service and Mae lengthened the sleeves, replaced the frayed cuffs and mended the hem. She added black lace across the bust. It would be quite smart. She’d trimmed a hat to match with a small net veil on the brim. Quite smart, indeed.
The blustery weather reflected the women’s sombre mood as they sat in the back seat of the taxi on the way to the service. Claire was minding the children. How lucky the little ones were, having no understanding about the day. Mae smoothed the pleat in her skirt. Her black woollen suit gaped around the waist; she probably should have adjusted the darts but having moved the button, it would do for today. She looked out the window and wondered how many people would be at the church. With so many services on that day across the city and around the country, it didn’t seem likely the church would be terribly crowded. And surely the weather would keep the stickybeaks away. She hoped
so anyway. Albert said the papers predicted there’d be hundreds of people at the Scots’ service, but she wished it were just close family and friends at the local church instead; people who knew Harry, who were sending their thoughts to him. It would be stronger that way, a shower of prayer for his safe return. Larger services were being held at the cathedrals, St Paul’s and St Patrick’s, but the women had decided on the smaller church when they heard that the chaplain who’d recently served on the Sydney would be there. Pastor Symonds was on board until October, so he would have known Harry and Jim. That thought was far more comforting to Mae than being surrounded by politicians.
The taxi inched along under the elm trees on Collins Street, behind a line of other taxis depositing passengers at the Scots’ portico. While they waited, Mae spotted Harry’s family huddled under umbrellas. Harry’s younger brother Richard nodded when he saw Mae, opened her door and paid the driver. Mae and Alice walked arm in arm through crowds of unfamiliar faces. Mae was unexpectedly glad to see Elizabeth, who awkwardly kissed her cheek while keeping her head tilted to the side so their hats didn’t collide. As soon as Elizabeth stepped back, Mim grasped Mae’s upper arms and burst into tears. Mae absently patted the girl’s coat and made the same soothing noises she used for Katie.
Harry’s youngest brother, Eric, took charge of his sister and Alice gripped Mae’s hand as the group was ushered towards the door. Mae was swept along as though the footpath were moving her towards the stone doorway, beyond which she could see nothing but a dark sea of men’s and women’s hats. She fought the urge to turn and run away from this church where she was being dragged to say goodbye to Harry. She tried to slow her pace but the crowd propelled her forward. Her breathing grew shallow, her face hot, and her fingers started to tingle. Her mind silently called, Stop, no; it’s too soon!