‘Here, let me adjust yours for you and then you can do mine,’ said Minna.
Tiney’s was a simple, close-fitting black mask decorated with jet-black beads and white sequins to mirror her black-and-white costume. Minna’s mask was pink and black with sharp, winged sides and a V between the eyes that highlighted her perfectly slicked-down kiss-curl. They walked up the Alstons’ gravel driveway hand-in-hand, a small Pierrot in glowing white and a glamorous Harlequin.
Ida opened the door. A rush of disinfectant made Tiney’s eyes prick with tears but it was Ida’s costume that made her blink. Ida was swathed in pale green fabric and wore a crown of flowers and vines in her curly auburn hair.
‘Are you a fairy?’ asked Tiney.
‘Titania, Queen of the Night,’ said Ida. She flung her arms in the air and spun about so they could admire her from all angles. A huge pair of gossamer wings were fixed to the back of her gown, and her silver mask was covered with small diamantes.
Then Ida took in what Minna was wearing.
‘Is that really Minna Flynn or some flapper from America?’
Did Minna blush? Tiney realised it was hard to tell what anyone was thinking between their masks, makeup and costumes. On a hallstand behind Ida, dozens of masks were laid out for guests who arrived without one.
The Alstons had a small but elegant ballroom with doors that opened onto a side terrace. The terrace was lit with acetylene gas lamps and crowds of soldiers, some in uniform, some in costumes but all in masks, stood beneath the golden glow, smoking. More gas lamps were positioned in the ballroom for when the electricity was cut off at ten o’clock. Ida had said that not even coal shortages could stop her party, once she’d made up her mind it must go ahead.
Every doorway was decorated like a victory arch with the name of a famous battle: Passchendaele, Bullecourt, Fromelles, Pozières, Gallipoli, Villers-Bretonneux. Minna and Tiney found it hard to decide which battle they should stand under. Tiney felt suddenly shy and childish. So many of the other guests were dressed as princess and fairies that her demure Pierrot seemed too boyish.
Every time a new man entered the room, Minna’s eyes would flick over him. It was only for a moment and her face gave nothing away, but Tiney had the feeling Minna was waiting and watching for someone, someone in particular.
Then she stiffened and turned her body, bending towards Tiney.
‘Talk to me,’ hissed Minna. ‘Talk to me as if we’re having a very interesting conversation.’
‘About what?’ asked Tiney.
‘About anything. Just frown a lot too, as if it’s very serious and extremely private. George McCaffrey just came in.’
‘He couldn’t possibly recognise you, especially not from behind.’
‘You don’t know George. He’ll study every woman in the room until he’s found me,’ said Minna, her voice tinged with despair.
Tiney tried to help Minna out, talking about how awful the punch tasted and furrowing her brow, but it didn’t work.
George tapped Minna on the shoulder. He wasn’t in costume but in ordinary civilian clothes. He hadn’t even bothered to pick up one of the masks in the hallway.
Minna shut her eyes momentarily, took a breath and turned to face him.
‘Oh, hello,’ she said. ‘I’d imagined you wouldn’t recognise me.’
‘You filled your dance card?’ he asked. His voice sounded odd, and Tiney could smell the bitterness of ale on his breath.
‘I haven’t filled mine up,’ said Tiney. ‘I haven’t pencilled anyone in yet.’
‘I didn’t ask you,’ said George. Tiney felt hot with embarrassment.
‘Mine’s full,’ said Minna, not batting an eyelid, though Tiney knew she hadn’t a single name on it.
‘Let me see,’ said George, putting out his hand.
‘No,’ said Minna, pressing the card to her chest.
George grabbed her elbow and twisted her arm towards him in one quick movement, reaching to pluck the card from her hand. Minna let out a gasp of anger.
‘Is there a problem, ladies?’ A tall, elegant man dressed in black feathers appeared beside Tiney. He was startlingly costumed with a pair of huge black wings on his back and a crow’s head and beak perched on his head. Hundreds of ebony feathers shimmered on his close-fitting black leotard. He lifted off his mask and smiled at them with intense brown eyes from beneath a thick mop of blond hair.
George stared hard at the stranger.
‘We know each other, don’t we?’ said the stranger. ‘You were at Ypres, Menin Road? I was with the Twenty-seventh Battalion, Second Division.’
George didn’t reply. He turned away from them and pushed his way into the crowd.
‘So rude,’ said Minna, rubbing her arm where George had grabbed it.
The stranger stared after George’s disappearing back. ‘I don’t think he remembers much of anything,’ he said before turning to Tiney. ‘I’m sorry, ladies. I should have introduced myself. I’m Sebastian Farr. You must be Dorothea’s sisters.’
‘How do you know our Thea?’ asked Minna.
‘I’ve been admiring her work at the Society of Artists. Is she here yet?’ asked Sebastian.
‘She should be, any minute,’ said Minna, glancing around the ballroom. ‘She doesn’t usually like to come to dances but she made an exception for tonight.’
‘I hope she’s hiding a secret love of dancing that she’s kept from her sisters. I intend to dance with her all night. ‘
Minna looked thunderstruck and Tiney let out a shout of laughter.
‘You must be Martina,’ said Sebastian. ‘Thea said you were the cheekiest of her sisters. Would you do me the honour of the first dance?’
Tiney blushed. ‘You should dance with Minna, she’s a much better dancer than me. Besides, you’re so terribly tall and I’m so short, we’ll look very odd on the dance floor.’
Sebastian turned to Minna. ‘Shall we?’
Minna glanced over her shoulder, frowning at Tiney, as she followed Sebastian onto the dance floor. Had Tiney committed a terrible faux pas? What if Sebastian decided he liked Minna more than Thea? How could he not like Minna more? She was so beautiful. Then Tiney saw Thea passing under the archway of Fromelles. Her costume of apricot silk and tiny pink rosebuds shimmered in the gaslight. Her hair hung loose and curling around her shoulders. Tiney had never seen Thea look so softly feminine. When the song came to its end, Minna and Sebastian crossed the floor to Thea and the three of them stood together, the handsomest trio in the ballroom.
Tiney felt a stab of self-pity. She had probably passed up her only invitation to dance for the evening. Sebastian wouldn’t ask her again as he’d be too busy with Thea. Minna would quickly find another dance partner. Tiney would be doomed to spend the evening as a wallflower. She almost wished she was in her Cheer-Up uniform, ladling out glasses of punch. Anything was better than standing alone in her Pierrot costume while the party whirled by.
Then she saw Frank McCaffrey looking miserable in an ill-fitting costume as he stood beneath the Pozières archway. Tiney skirted around the edge of the dance floor to join him.
‘Frank, you look dashing. But who are you meant to be?’ asked Tiney.
‘Aramis, you know, one of the Three Musketeers,’ he said, uncomfortably adjusting the floppy feather in his broad-brimmed hat. ‘I’m not sold on this masque ball idea. Is this the Alstons’ going-away party, or our welcome home? I’d heard they’re off to Europe.’
‘They are going – eventually,’ said Tiney. ‘But between the flu and the Germans refusing to sign the treaty, everything’s on hold.’
‘The Germans would be mad to sign.’
‘So you don’t agree with Mr Hughes?’ asked Tiney.
Frank lowered his voice. ‘He made a lot of noise over there at the Paris Peace Conference but he’s not doing us a lot of good. He should come home and sort things here. Let Europe clean up her own mess. We’ve done enough for her. We need to get on with our lives. There are a
lot of men that need help and they’re arriving by the shipload.’
‘There’s the soldier-settler scheme. Ray got land without any trouble.’
Frank frowned. ‘I hope Ray and Nette took a good look at it before they signed up.’
Tiney thought of the uneasy tone in Nette’s letters, the thinly veiled anxiety about their future in the Riverina. She didn’t want to tell Frank that Nette and Ray were living in a tent. It made her heart clutch with anxiety.
‘I’ve been lucky,’ said Frank. ‘I’ve got a job as a clerk at a good law firm, and I’m studying too. Not like poor George.’
Tiney felt her heart sink. Now they would have to discuss George and how the war had broken him and then Tiney would start to feel guilty on Minna’s behalf, because Minna could never love George. Tiney saw the evening stretch out before her, a long night of thinking about her sisters and worrying about the state of the world. Then she realised she was being rude, not responding to Frank’s conversation.
‘I’m sorry, Frank. Did you just ask me a question?’
Frank smiled. ‘Martina Flynn,’ said Frank. ‘Would you mind dancing with a digger – or a musketeer – with two left feet?’
‘You want to dance?’ asked Tiney. ‘With me?’
Frank took hold of Tiney’s hands and led her onto the dance floor. They spun out onto the smooth marble as the band struck up a foxtrot. Tiney looked up into Frank’s face. The lights glanced off his glasses, making his eyes appear an even deeper blue.
Sebastian and Thea passed by as Frank guided Tiney through the crowd of dancers. Minna, dancing with a new partner, smiled and waved. It was a long time since Tiney had seen such an expression of easy happiness on Minna’s face. But then Tiney turned her gaze back to Frank. Frank and Tiney. Tiney and Frank. She liked the way their names sounded, sitting side by side. For the first time in months, Tiney felt a flutter of hope, like a small bird testing its wings, move inside her.
Lost and found
Tiney racked her brain, trying to think what was the last thing that Minna said before she disappeared. Had they argued? Had Tiney spoken sharply? Was there something she said that tipped Minna over the edge? Or was one of the men Minna had danced with connected to her disappearance?
The morning after the Alstons’ ball, Tiney had been slow to wake up. By the time she did, Minna was gone. Her bed was neatly made, the coverlet smooth, the pillow plumped.
Tiney was sitting at the breakfast table, rubbing sleep from her eyes, when Mama came silently into the room and handed her a note. It was on the soft mauve writing paper that Minna used for all her correspondence.
Dearest Mama,
I do not mean to cause you any grief but I have to go away for some time. I can’t say when I will be home but events have arisen that have made it clear to me I cannot stay in Adelaide for the moment. I will write again when I am safely settled. Please don’t worry about me. I am with friends and in no moral jeopardy.
Your loving daughter, Wilhemina (Minna)
Tiney read it three times, as if the words were incomprehensible. ‘Where did you find this?’
‘Minna left it propped beside my teacup. It was waiting for me this morning. She must have slipped out before dawn.’
Tiney leapt up from the table and ran back to the bedroom she shared with Minna, searching for some sign of her sister’s plans. There was no evidence of a hurried departure, only of a frighteningly clear-headed intent.
The small grey cardboard suitcase that Minna kept under her bed for visits to the country was missing. Some of her wardrobe remained but the blue crepe-de-Chine frock, a black opera cloak and her black silk concert skirt were no longer hanging in the wardrobe. Wherever Minna had gone, she would look her best.
Thea was as bewildered as Tiney by Minna’s sudden departure. Papa showed a flash of rage and then retreated to his study, back to the interminable task of building his scrapbook of Louis’ life.
‘We must make a plan,’ said Tiney. ‘A plan to find her.’
‘What if she doesn’t want to be found?’ asked Thea.
Tiney ignored Thea’s question. ‘Let’s make a list of all the people who might know something. That ghastly Tilda Constance-Higgens probably has something to do with it. If she doesn’t have any answers, then we’ll question all Minna’s students. And the police, we should call the police too. And Ida – she might have noticed something at last night’s ball. Minna danced with a dark-haired man I didn’t recognise. He might know something. Or that Sebastian Farr.’
Thea put her hand on Tiney’s forearm. ‘Mr Farr wouldn’t know anything about it. He only danced with her once. And Minna would have danced with every man at the party. You can’t go questioning all of them. They’ll get the wrong idea about her.’
‘Thea’s right,’ said Mama. ‘You must speak to no one about this. If anyone asks, we’ll tell them Minna’s gone to stay with relatives in the country. We must give her the chance to come back of her own volition, without a scandal.’
‘But someone might know where she is! I’m sure Tilda will know something.’
‘Minna is a sensible girl. She wouldn’t be swayed by someone like Tilda. I trust her to do the right thing,’ said Mama. ‘Your father and I are very upset, but we have decided the best course of action is to wait. We must all bide our time and give Minna the chance to come home without a fuss.’
Tiney felt her face grow hot, her mouth burn with all the secrets she was keeping from her mother. She thought of Minna kissing the soldier on Armistice Day, of the way men looked at her when they were out together, of Minna peeling off her black skirt and of her spinning across the Alstons’ dance floor. Minna was too dangerously beautiful. Couldn’t Mama and Thea understand that?
Tiney sat hunched over her morning tea, listening as Mama telephoned every one of Minna’s students to explain that Minna wouldn’t be taking classes for the next week or two. She felt a sick, hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. What would they do without Minna’s wages? She had been counting on Minna’s help in saving up for the trip to Europe. She had been counting on Minna being at Larksrest forever.
By the beginning of June, there was still no word from Minna. At night, the quiet of their bedroom was almost unbearable. Tiney would wake in fright and then realise that it was the silence that woke her. To not hear Minna’s gentle breathing made Tiney feel as though she was sleeping in a tomb. A week after Minna had left, Tiney moved her things in with Thea.
Tiney couldn’t bear to go to the Cheer-Up Hut any more. She lost interest in the plans for their Victory Ball. Most evenings, after clearing up the kitchen, she would sit quietly in her room and write in her journal or lose herself in a book.
Then, on a bright, clear winter morning, four letters arrived from Nette. Nette wrote twice a week without fail but they’d never all received letters from her at exactly the same time. Papa came to the breakfast table and handed Thea, Tiney and Mama a letter each. As if Minna had only gone out for a walk, he put her letter on the mantelpiece for when she returned. They each took turns using the bone-handled letter-opener to slice open their envelopes.
Tiney read the opening sentence of her letter and clapped one hand over her mouth with surprise. ‘Does yours say the same thing as mine?’ she asked Thea.
Thea glanced at Mama and Papa, who were both smiling. ‘Of course it does. Congratulations, Auntie Tiney!’
Tiney scanned her letter again. ‘Does yours say when the baby is due?’
‘November,’ said Mama. ‘Our Nette will become a mother in November.’
‘She’ll have to come and have the baby in Adelaide,’ said Tiney. ‘We’ll be able to have her home again for months.’
‘That will be up to Ray,’ said Papa. ‘He may want Nette and his child to be with him.’
‘He can’t!’ said Tiney. ‘They’re still living in a tent!’
‘Perhaps this will give him the impetus to finish building the house,’ said Mama.
Tiney and
Thea looked at each other sceptically but said nothing. Mama and Papa had enough grief and worry to deal with without adding criticism of Ray to their burden.
Tiney was humming cheerfully to herself as she polished the mirror on the hallstand when a courier arrived later in the day. She opened the front door and called for Papa to come and sign the delivery receipt. The parcel was from the Australian Imperial Force. But the courier announced the parcel was addressed to Mama – Mrs Charlotte Flynn. Papa watched carefully as Mama signed.
‘Find your sister,’ said Papa to Tiney. ‘We must open this all together. These are your brother’s possessions sent from France.’
In the parlour, Mama laid the parcel on the cedar table and the family sat in a circle as she cut the strings.
The first thing that she took out was a small pouch. She pressed it against her face and smelt the fabric, as if it might still hold the scent of Louis. Then she laid it back down on the brown paper and gently touched the rest of the contents with the tips of her fingers.
‘Five years of his life,’ she said. ‘So little for five years.’
Tiney picked up one of the photos. It was of all four sisters. Louis had carried a picture of them to the trenches. She blinked back tears.
Papa opened up one of the accompanying letters. It was an inventory of Louis’ effects.
‘The diary, discs, photos, pouch, purse, pipe-lighter, watch chain and his medals and medal ribbons were with him at the front,’ he said. ‘It says they were “received from the field”. The second set of things is from his kitbag held in store.’
Thea took the letter from Papa, looked at it, and then began separating the items into two piles: the ones that were with him when he died and the ones that had been in his kitbag. She glanced at Tiney and smiled as she picked up three pairs of socks. They were ones that each of his sisters had knitted for him. Only the socks that Minna had knitted were missing. Tiney wished Minna was there with them at that moment. To know that her socks were the ones he wore on his last day.
The Year It All Ended Page 8