by Lisa Bigelow
William settled back into his chair. ‘He’s never said it outright, but he tends to have an extra spring in his step when he comes home on Saturdays. Especially in the last few years.’
Mae couldn’t believe her uncles had led such colourful lives. Talk about dark horses! She thought of all the hours they’d spent listening to her talk about Harry. Never once had either of them mentioned their own loves. Were they afraid of how she’d judge them? She looked at her aunt and uncle.
‘Why is this the first I’m hearing of all of this?’
‘It’s the first time you’ve listened,’ Et said.
‘What does that mean?’
‘You’ve had a lot to contend with, dear, and it was all so long ago, but we do understand a little about sadness and loss,’ William said.
‘You need to take a leaf out of Alice’s book or you’ll end up alone like us,’ Et said, her voice quavering. ‘You should find Katie a new father, someone for you to grow old with.’
Mae thought of having another man in her lovely new home when it was finally built. Harry’s home! Lately she’d begun to imagine touching a man’s skin, his hair, feeling his breath on her body. She was surprised to feel less horrified by the idea, but it was still something distant; there was no firm shape in her mind of how he would look, who he would be. And right now, getting the house built was enough.
‘There are worse things than being alone,’ Mae said.
‘That’s the thing, Mae,’ said Et. ‘I’m not sure there are.’
CHAPTER 33
* * *
September – December 1944
MAE LIFTED A STACK of plates off the drainer and dried them quickly. She heard Albert coughing. Unusually for Albert, he’d retired to his room straight after lunch. He’d had a cold for the last week but she’d been shocked by his appearance today. Normally dapper, he was wearing an old pair of trousers, leather slippers and a jumper and a cardigan over his shirt. He looked like a shrunken old man. She brewed him a pot of tea, adding lemon and fresh ginger to the hot water before placing it on a tray. Next she arranged the honey pot and a fresh cup and saucer then rattled along the hallway to his room.
‘That cough sounds like it’s getting worse, Albert,’ Mae said, placing the tray on the table beside his bed.
Albert coughed himself upright then wheezed as he reached for a glass of water.
‘What did the doctor say?’
‘I just need a few days in bed,’ he said, swiping a hanky across his mouth.
‘You might need another visit.’
‘Don’t fuss, Mae. A cup of tea will fix me right up.’
A shaft of light streamed from beneath the lowered blind, illuminating the side of his face. His skin, normally as smooth as a child’s, was covered in silver stubble.
‘Thank you, dear, the tea is perfect,’ he said, lying back against his pillows.
Squeals and giggles from the backyard drew a tired smile. ‘I’m so proud of you, Mae.’
‘Proud? What for?’
‘The way you are with Katie, the way you are with Harry’s family. I know none of it’s been easy for you.’ He quickly set the cup aside as a spasm seized his chest.
‘I want to call the doctor,’ Mae said. ‘It’s more than just a cold.’
‘Nonsense. He’ll just tell me to drink fluids and rest, which is exactly what I’m doing.’
William appeared in the doorway. ‘How’s the patient?’
‘Ridiculously stoic,’ Mae answered.
‘Let’s leave him to rest. I want to talk to you about something.’
Mae caught a slight nod from Albert to his brother before he closed his eyes. She followed William to the sitting room.
‘Should we call the doctor back?’
‘I already have. He’s coming in the morning. Albert doesn’t know, but it’s all arranged.’
‘I’ve never seen him so bad. He looks like he’s getting worse.’
‘He’s just a bit downhearted, cooped up. He missed Trevor’s party the other night.’
‘Trevor?’
‘His friend from the club. He’s never mentioned him?’
‘I don’t think so. Did they serve together?’
William hesitated for a moment. ‘No, they met a few years ago. They have dinner and drinks every Friday night, then they stay the night at the club.’
‘No wonder he’s upset, being too sick to go out this weekend. Perhaps Trevor could come to visit, cheer him up a bit.’
‘He telephones most days.’
‘How lovely to have a special friend like that. Maybe you should go to a club too, somewhere you can expand your horizons, meet some new friends.’
William chuckled.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘It’s all right, dear. Nothing at all. Albert’s the more social one, likes a change of scenery, a bit of time away from all of us. I’m more of a homebody.’
‘Still, you should think about getting out more.’
‘Thank you for your concern, but I’m too old to change my spots,’ William said. ‘I’d prefer to talk about your plans.’
And there it was. It had been nicely done, she had to admit. No matter how much she tried to avoid the subject, she managed too regularly to walk into another of those discussions: the concerned family grilling her about the future, her plans, her housing situation. Why couldn’t they let her be, at least until the war was over and she knew when Harry was coming home? There was nothing wrong with the cottage. The landlord had said she could stay as long as she liked.
William twisted in his chair, trying to find a position that would ease the pressure on his leg. The more uncomfortable he looked, the more Mae knew she probably wouldn’t like what he had to say. She plunged her hands down beside the cushions so that she felt cocooned, braced. William met her eyes and launched into his obviously rehearsed spiel.
‘The plans are all approved. In the next few weeks they’ll be ready to start building new houses on the street where your mother’s block is,’ he said, elbows planted on the arms of the chair, hands clasped. He paused, watching for her reaction.
‘You know I don’t have all of the money saved yet, and Harry hated the thought of owing anyone.’
‘But you can’t be comfortable living in that ridiculous cottage, especially with Katie growing so quickly. She needs a tree of her own to sit under, somewhere to play with her friends.’
‘Plenty of children live in small houses or even flats.’
‘That’s not the point, Mae. You don’t need to martyr yourself like this. You’ve already admitted you need to move on with your life.’
No, no, no! Mae imagined herself sticking her fingers in her ears and stamping her foot, the way Katie did when she didn’t want to get dressed in the morning. But he was right. Even though her every waking thought was about getting Harry home safely, the news coming out of the Japanese POW camps was terrible. The likelihood of him coming home was fading each day and she’d heard nothing since the Tokyo Rose rumour. Harry had always wanted a house in Frankston, arguing they should keep the Yarraville block up their sleeves for a rainy day. But what if the rainy day had already arrived?
It was so hard to know what to do. She’d often asked Harry in her mind what he would do in her situation. Would he hold on to hope when everyone around him said hope was gone? Would he wait for a dream, or would he do his best to provide for his family? Her mind knew the answer, but her heart still dragged like a weight keeping her rooted in their past. And in the end, was building the house really a betrayal of their shared dreams, their plans, their last days together? If the miraculous did happen and he came home, they could always sell the house and start again. Surely he’d forgive her—if, indeed, there was anything to forgive. And it would be so nice to have a project, something to keep her thoughts busy, outside of the shop, training Mim, looking after her family and raising Katie.
Mae straightened her back and clasped her hands firmly in her lap. Taking a
deep breath, she met William’s gaze and spoke so calmly and quietly she almost wondered whether she was speaking aloud at all or merely continuing the conversation in her head.
‘I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I’ve decided that you’re right. It’s time to move ahead. It doesn’t have to be our home forever, but it’s my responsibility to build a future for all of us. I’ll sign the papers. If it doesn’t work out or I end up hating it, we’ll cross that bridge in due course, but at least I’m doing something.’
William shook his head then smiled. ‘You’re doing the right thing. I’m sure he’d be so proud. And we’ll be here to help, every step of the way.’
Mae leaned over and rubbed her uncle’s shoulder.
‘Go and tell Et the good news; she’ll be so relieved.’
‘Mim, you’ll need to re-pin the yokes so the nap matches the rest of the front. See here? When you sew them together, the yoke nap will sit diagonally instead of straight up and down. It will look different to the eye instead of all running in the same direction.’
‘I’m sorry, Mae. I didn’t see that when I was laying it out.’
‘That’s all right, Mim, you’re doing just fine. But it’s a good habit to draw arrows on the paper patterns so that you know exactly where your nap sits, especially on velvet and silk, where it makes such a difference. It’s so much easier with tartans and heavy weaves, isn’t it?’
‘I’m sorry, you must think I’m so hopeless.’
‘Not at all; we all have to start somewhere. Just make yourself a list of things to check before you cut any fabric, and always ask me to double-check, at least until you’re more confident.’
‘How long did it take you to get the hang of this?’
‘I wasn’t allowed to cut unchecked until the third year of my apprenticeship, and even then I managed to cut a set of pockets in for a pinstripe suit with the stripes running horizontal instead of vertical. It was the day after Harry proposed. I could barely think, I was so excited.’
‘I wish I’d been older then, and known you both as friends rather than just being the baby sister. We so looked forward to your visits, but then you’d leave and we wouldn’t see Harry for weeks at a time. That’s why it’s so nice working with you now, and spending time with Katie.’
Katie’s head appeared around the curtain to the back of the shop.
‘That’s right, I said your name, sweet pea. Stay there behind the curtain while we have the scissors out. That’s the girl.’
‘Why don’t you leave the cutting and take Katie for lunch in the park? I’ve made her a sandwich so you can have a picnic together.’
‘Picinicky,’ Katie squealed.
‘Well, aren’t I lucky, having my other boss to keep me company at lunchtime? Get your coat and boots, Katie, I’ll help you dress in a minute.’
‘Thanks, Mim. I’ve got so much paperwork to go over today for the house; it will be great to have Katie tired out for her afternoon sleep.’
Hearing the bell tinkle on the shop door a few minutes after Katie and Mim left for the park, Mae lifted her head from the house plans she’d spread on the counter. She’d been poring over the outlines that showed windows and doors and bedrooms and the kitchen. Everything looked so tiny, but outlines of beds and tables and cupboards, even the furniture on the verandah, were starting to give a better sense of scale. She couldn’t quite grasp that this was finally going to be her home, but she’d met the builder and he’d patiently discussed every stage and said she’d be in the house for Christmas.
‘Good morning, Mrs Parker. What a lovely day.’
Pearl Atkinson filled the doorway of the shop; she seemed to be getting bigger by the week.
‘Good morning, Mrs Atkinson. You look well. What can I do for you today?’
‘That new cardigan in the window, the taupe with the red fleck—it will go perfectly with the red floral dress I bought last month, don’t you think?’
‘I’ll just have a look.’
Mae opened a drawer and riffled through the cellophane packages; small, women’s, large, extra-large and extra-extra-large. ‘You’re in luck—this one should fit,’ Mae said, unpacking the largest size. ‘These only arrived yesterday. You’ll be first with the latest. The finest merino wool.’
Pearl Atkinson stepped into the dressing room and Mae watched as elbows and rump pushed the heavy brown curtain this way and that, like a giant bag of puppies fighting to escape. When she eventually emerged, Mae fought to keep her expression professional.
‘What do you think?’ Pearl asked as she tugged sleeves into place and pulled the waistband around her rump.
The cardigan’s flesh tones made her dimpled arms look exactly like pork sausages about to burst their skins.
Fighting for the right adjective to encourage the sale, Mae clapped her hands together in what she hoped looked like approval.
‘You look delicious, Mrs Atkinson; good enough to eat.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Parker. It’s such a lift to have something new to wear to the church picnic next weekend. Are you going?’
‘I plan to. Katie can’t stop talking about “fairy foss”.’
‘Fairy floss, Mrs Parker. You can’t be letting them indulge in silly words when they’re so impressionable. Where is the little one today? Having a nap, I presume.’
‘My apprentice has taken her to the park for a play before lunch.’
‘Your apprentice? Surely she should be here working while you tend to the mothering. In my day, young people worked dawn till dusk with just the half hour for lunch.’
‘Thank you for your advice, Mrs Atkinson, but Mim is a very hard worker. And when she takes Katie out, I’m able to get more done here.’
Pearl glanced at the plans. ‘I see. Is that a new fitout for the shop? You must be doing well to have paid help and a new showroom.’
‘No, this is something else entirely. That will be two pounds, six shillings for the cardigan. I’ll just wrap it for you.’
Mae unfurled a length of brown paper—large enough to obscure the house plan—from the roll attached to the end of the counter. After cutting the paper at the end, folding it around the garment and tying it with string, Mae left enough paper on the work surface to conceal the plans from prying eyes.
‘I’ll see you both at the picnic, then, with your aunt and uncles. I trust they’re all well?’
‘Fighting fit, thank you. I’ll let them know you asked after their health. Good day, Mrs Atkinson.’
Mae waited until Pearl had closed the door and turned towards her favourite destination—the bakery two doors along from Mae’s shop—before she uncovered the plans to examine the space for the buffet. She’d originally thought it might be best in the dining room, but she wanted to see it each day. It looked like there might be space beside the couch, along the wall between the lounge room door and the French doors leading to the dining room. Using her tape measure, she measured the length of the space; two and half inches, which should translate to ten feet. Perfect, the buffet was only five foot six inches with the doors closed and another eighteen inches at each end when they were open.
Just as she rolled up the plans and put them under the counter, Mae heard familiar voices outside the shop.
‘Put them down, Katie, you can’t take them into the shop.’
‘I want to show Mummy!’
‘They’re too dirty, Katie. They belong in the park with the other snails.’
‘But I wiped them!’
Mae stepped out onto the pavement. ‘Katie, are you listening to Mim? Good girls don’t argue with grown-ups.’
‘The snails were cold. I could see them shivering in the puddle.’
‘I don’t think snails feel the cold like we do. See? They’re in their little house shells.’
‘Can we keep them, please? They can live in my pocket.’
Mim looked at Mae and shrugged apologetically. ‘I tried to get her to leave them behind.’
‘I know, dear; s
he’s desperate for a pet. Katie, they have to stay outside, away from the clothes in the shop. Mim will help you find some lawn, then you have to leave them to eat the grass. That’s their favourite food.’
Katie looked at the two women then down at the three snails in her hands. Mae knew the situation could go either way at this point: tantrum or compliance. Fortunately, it was the latter. Seeing a sliver of nature strip outside the police station on the corner, Katie began to walk towards it, careful to keep her hands steady.
‘I’ll bring her back and wash her hands in a minute,’ Mim said, following a step behind.
‘As soon as she’s settled, I’ll head over to check on Albert,’ Mae said. ‘I shouldn’t be more than half an hour.’
Although Mae had told Pearl her family was fighting fit, Albert was battling his second chest infection in three months. A week of bed rest and nursing by Et had done nothing to help him. In fact, he could barely speak for coughing and he struggled to catch his breath after each fit. Mae sat beside Albert in the sunshine on the back porch. Despite the warmth, her uncle was wrapped in an overcoat with a thick blanket tucked around his neck and legs. The doctor had diagnosed pneumonia and recommended hospital, but of course Albert refused, saying he’d get far more sleep at home. Hospitals were for sick people, he said, insisting that they shouldn’t waste the bed on a man with a simple cold. But in the last few days, Mae felt his spark had diminished.
Today, every sentence he spoke was punctuated by coughing.
‘Tell me about—’ more coughing—‘the plans.’
Just when it seemed like he’d never manage to take another breath, Mae heard footsteps and then a man’s voice.
‘Steady on there, mate.’
A dapper, compact man strode out through the door and slapped Albert on the back several times. ‘Try to take a sip of water,’ the man said as he rubbed Albert’s neck and shoulders, a rose gold signet ring glinting on his little finger. As Albert’s coughing receded, the man continued to gently stroke Albert’s back before mopping his mouth and chin with a silk handkerchief. The gestures seemed familiar, gentle. Mae was amazed by Albert’s submission. He held the man’s hand for a moment and smiled before returning his attention to Mae.