A Complicated Woman

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘I don’t mean that, I was just angry because I thought—’

  ‘I didn’t do anything to encourage him!’ Oriel hid her face in a handkerchief.

  ‘I know!’ Her mother was contrite now and sat down to put a comforting arm around her. ‘I meant… oh God, ye shouldn’t have said that to your poor father.’

  Oriel’s distorted face came up. ‘Oh, I’m to blame for that as well, am I?’

  ‘No, no!’ Bright’s mind was in a whirl. Would the past ever stop returning to haunt her? ‘I’m not blaming you for anything. Really, I’m not.’ After a few trying moments, she stroked her daughter’s back and asked, ‘How did ye find out? I suppose it was that man ye went to see – he came to the house.’

  Oriel shook her head, blew her nose and wiped her eyes, unable to look her mother in the eye after such an accusation. ‘From your sister.’

  Bright frowned. ‘Eilleen. God, the bitch. When?’ At her daughter’s explanation she was even more angry. ‘I wish I’d never sent her that furniture and stuff now. I hope it’s got woodworm in it.’

  ‘She didn’t get it. I sent it to the Sally Army.’ Oriel’s eyes were still downcast.

  ‘Good! Aw, I’m sorry I accused you before, darling, I was just so shocked. The dirty old – I wonder if his wife knows about him? Well, that’s it! We can’t see the Ratcliffes after this voyage is over.’

  ‘But I like Dot.’ Oriel sniffed and shuddered.

  ‘Yes, I like her mother too, though I don’t know how I’m ever going to face her. God, and here’s me worried about them knowing you’re illegitimate! Well, never mind that for the moment. Tell me how ye found Sep Kendrew.’

  When the explanation was given, Bright marvelled over the sheer coincidence that had brought them together, and went on to answer Oriel’s questions as to his identity with the revelation that ostensibly he had been Maria’s husband but in reality her pimp.

  She sighed. ‘He must’ve thought all his birthdays had come at once when you walked in that door.’ Contributing a final motherly pat, she rose. ‘Well, that’s enough talk about him. I’ll have to go tend your father.’

  She found a pensive Nat in their cabin and, though he did not ask, gave him the explanation that Oriel had given her. ‘I don’t feel like going to dinner now, d’you? We’ll send for something in our cabin. That takes care of tonight, but I don’t know how we’re going to avoid the Ratcliffes for the rest of the voyage.’

  ‘We’re not going to avoid ’em,’ came her husband’s grim announcement. ‘We’ve nowt to be ashamed of. Anyroad, I reckon it’ll be that Ratcliffe bloke trying to avoid us. I’ve a good mind to thump him.’ At his wife’s objection that this would only draw more attention, he agreed to restrain himself.

  ‘Away, let’s go to dinner. If we don’t brazen it out now we never will.’

  Unable to persuade Oriel to come with them, they went to the dining room alone. To Bright’s disconcertment her husband, fighting his nature and wearing a determined smile, made straight for the Ratcliffes’ table. Seeing the combined look of horror spread over their faces as they recognized his intention, she hung back, awaiting rebuff. However, when she and Nat reached them, Mrs Ratcliffe’s voice and expression held nothing but welcome. She even went so far as to exchange seats with her husband in order to sit next to Bright. The evening passed without incident and by the time they excused themselves Nat’s wife was glad that she had let him persuade her.

  Unconsciously employing one of her father’s expressions, she murmured when they were out of earshot, ‘God, the English are a funny lot. Not so much as a wink that they heard what Oriel said, and I know they must have.’ She cheered up. ‘Maybe she will be able to keep up her friendship with Dorothy after all. She doesn’t go to their house without one of us being there, though. I’m not having that old lecher trying his hand again.’

  Mrs Ratcliffe watched the couple retreat and gave an admiring smile. ‘Well, I never thought they’d show their faces, did you?’

  Her husband looked uncomfortable – had felt this way all through dinner, wondering whether Prince was going to inform his wife what had sparked the argument that so amused her. He wouldn’t try that again in a hurry. The girl was obviously not as loose as he thought.

  ‘Poor Oriel,’ said Dorothy. ‘She must be so embarrassed over what she said. I wonder what the row was about? I think I’ll just go—’

  ‘Sit down.’ Her mother caught her elbow.

  ‘But you said it wouldn’t make any difference to our friendship, said you liked her.’

  ‘I might be liberal-minded, and yes I do like Oriel, I’d never shun her like some, but I’d rather you were in the company of others when you meet her in future. You never know what bad ways she might’ve picked up and I don’t want you exposed to them.’

  ‘I’ll look after Sis,’ offered her brother nonchalantly.

  ‘I’m sure you would, dear.’ His mother patted his hand knowingly. ‘I’m sure you would. But we don’t want to lead you into temptation, do we? No, I think it’s best that we keep an eye on you both for the rest of the voyage.’

  * * *

  Holding its middle course, the ship continued more swiftly now on its route towards the coaling station at Aden. Woken during the night by the rumble of fuel being loaded from the wharves, and unable to get back to sleep, Oriel lay there picturing herself telling the whole world that her grandmother had been a prostitute. Dorothy had been understanding as usual, had whispered that one could not help what one’s ancestors had done, that it made no difference to their friendship, and Oriel believed her, thanked God for Dorothy’s alliance, for there was no such trust from others.

  Dawn broke upon the British Colony that, to this despairing young woman, presented itself as a lifeless peninsula of volcanic precipitous rocks. Later in the day, however, when Nat bowed to pressure from his wife and took them on shore, Oriel was to be pleasantly surprised. Beyond the scorched red rocks, in the hill gorges just above the town around the water tanks from where the ship replenished supplies, there was dense and beautiful tropical vegetation, grapevines, date palms and other unfamiliar trees with a delicious heady scent.

  The walk had made them thirsty and Nat allowed the women to sit for a while glugging from water bottles as they surveyed the biblical landscape, whilst he himself kept watch for robbers. Spotting movement, he viewed the interloper with suspicion, but it was only an old man leading a donkey. The animal was grossly overburdened, tottering under a great mound of sacks, its head hanging.

  Anger sprang to Nat’s lips. ‘You want to try carrying some o’ that yourself, pal!’

  The weatherbeaten old man merely smiled and looked straight ahead as he prodded the donkey on its way, leaving Nat feeling impotent at not being able to communicate his disgust. ‘Cruel bugger.’

  ‘Shush,’ urged his wife. ‘He might come back and attack us.’

  ‘Think I’m frightened of a bloke in a dress?’

  Uncomfortable at his open hostility, Bright watched the man’s retreating back for a while, thoughts drifting.

  ‘I wonder if Jesus sat here,’ she mused, after slaking her parched throat for the last time before replacing the cap on the bottle.

  ‘Or Mary Magdalene.’ Oriel wondered whether her allusion to that other fallen woman would be understood. Under the quick examining glance of her father she looked away and wiped her brow with her sodden handkerchief.

  Nat hung his head and sat in silence for a while in the balmy afternoon. ‘I’m sorry you had to find out about your grandmother like you did,’ he muttered eventually. ‘I’d never’ve inflicted that on you. I know what it’s like. But I can’t help having the mother I had. So… now you know.’

  Oriel picked at her handkerchief. ‘But I don’t really.’

  ‘You know as much as I do. You’ll learn nowt else and neither will I. She’s dead.’ His voice belied the pain he felt. ‘I’m not gonna talk about her ever again.’

  At his daughter’s n
od of acceptance, he rose abruptly, helping both women to their feet. ‘Away, we’d best be getting back to t’ship or they’ll be going without us.’

  Her despondence unassuaged, Oriel allowed herself to be chaperoned, but said as they walked, ‘Is this what it’s going to be like for the rest of the voyage? Me being treated like a naughty child, never let out of your sight? Because if it is I’m turning round now and going back. I mean it.’

  Bright exchanged glances with her husband. ‘Well, I suppose we are being a bit overzealous. It’s just that we worry about you, darling.’ She squeezed Oriel’s arm. ‘We’ll try not to smother ye so much when we get back on board.’ Though she could not help thinking that with more than halfway yet to go to Australia she was going to suffer an awful lot more anxiety over her daughter.

  With the proviso that she would get back on board only if both parents swore to respect her freedom, Oriel accompanied them to the ship.

  Restocked with coal, food and water the liner departed for Bombay, then beyond there the even more devastating heat of Colombo. From here only the Indian Ocean lay between the Prince family and their destination.

  5

  A cloudless sky, brass bands, flags, banners and jubilation awaited them on the afternoon of their arrival in Melbourne. Sounding its horn on a burst of steam, the liner, carrying its cheering diggers, forged up the bay towards a wharf that was crawling with excitement. Yachts and coal barges, mail ships, timber vessels, all gave answer, the bay resounding to honks and toots and whistles and sirens. Weary from her twelve-thousand-mile voyage, the liner finally edged her flank against the Old Railway Pier, ropes cascaded through the air and another volley of cheers went up.

  ‘By, I didn’t know they’d be this pleased to see us.’ Shouting above the fanfare, Nat leaned on the rail and studied the delirious throng on the wharf below.

  ‘I rather think they’ve come to welcome the soldiers.’ Oriel tutted at his cryptic comment, but was nevertheless enraptured by the vastness of the sky, its diverse shades of blue.

  Her mother’s excited brown eyes danced from scene to scene. She gasped. ‘Oh my God, look at those girls wearing make-up!’

  ‘I wear make-up,’ pointed out Oriel, unable to see the subject of her mother’s scandalized gestures.

  ‘Yes, but theirs is an inch thick and they can’t be more than twelve! Look, look, there! What can their mothers be thinking of?’ Bright hoped this wasn’t an indication of Australian youth in general.

  ‘Listen to you complaining already and we haven’t even got off the ship.’ Her husband nudged her.

  ‘Oh, I’m not!’ His wife grabbed his arm and hugged it, her eyes ignoring the industrial outline of Hobson’s Bay – bone mills, candleworks, tanning and meat preserving. Even the smoking kiln chimneys seemed robbed of ugliness against the brilliance of the sky. ‘I think it’s wonderful. I didn’t expect Melbourne to be on the seaside. I’ve always dreamed of a house by the sea – though we’ve been so long on board I’ll feel a bit funny leaving it.’

  ‘I wain’t!’ replied Nat. ‘But I think we have to hang on for them quarantine blokes to see if any of us have the dreaded flu. Anyroad, we’re better off staying where we are for a while, we’ll get crushed to death with that lot down there.’

  Hours of frustration were to follow whilst the ship was cleared by quarantine and customs. Oriel and Dorothy passed the time by going around the ship saying goodbye to the soldiers and wishing them well in their civilian life. Today there was no sauciness, the diggers too anxious to be reunited with their families, who formed the crowd on the wharf below and entertained themselves during the long wait with a patriotic medley of song.

  The sun got lower and lower in the sky, yet the late afternoon still retained its devastating heat. At last it was time to disembark. A great roar went up as the married men pounded down the gangway to be hauled into the crush and reunited with their families. Oriel waved to those she had come to know, but their eyes were for others. Bright cried, watching them – though she was soon to reissue her shocked disparagements as the single men loped down the ramp to be pawed and embraced by the girls in the heavy make-up.

  Thereafter, the troops were transported into Melbourne by a stream of cars from the Royal Automobile Club of Victoria, who had volunteered to help throughout the war.

  When it was time for the other passengers to disembark, Oriel accepted a kiss on the cheek from Dorothy and arranged to send an address as soon as they had one. Bright vowed to contact Mrs Ratcliffe too, though privately doubted that the friendship could be preserved after what had occurred on the ship. Nat merely nodded and gave his tight smile, then suggested to his wife and daughter that they make a move to find an hotel before everywhere was full.

  There were quarantine officers at the foot of the gangplank making random checks of people’s bags for fruit. Once they were past this obstacle Nat hailed a wharf labourer to help collect their baggage, then began to fight his way along the pier, midst people and exhaust fumes. Bright tottered alongside, exclaiming that her legs felt like rubber, both she and Nat made nervous by this unfamiliar country and its crowds.

  After watching Dorothy go her own way with the people who had come to meet them, Oriel struggled after her parents beneath the fluttering banners – ‘Well Done, Boys!’ ‘South Melbourne Welcomes You Home.’ The sun was very low now, but there was no alleviation of the heat. As in Colombo, it was almost palpable. It crept up her nose and into her ears, the sweat trickling inside her clothes. Telling herself that she would never be able to stand this, she tagged on to her parents.

  There was not a taxi to be had, but luckily there was an hotel not too far away. On the way, however, they passed a pub that had obviously done great business, for there were inebriated men laughing and singing and one even vomiting on the pavement. Projecting contempt, Nat ordered his companions to avert their eyes but he was too late to spare Oriel, who showed aversion and was still grumbling about it as they approached the reception desk of their hotel.

  ‘Shush, there’s nothing we can do about it,’ scolded Bright, then explained to the proprietress, Mrs Churchill, ‘I’m sorry, there were some dreadful men outside who—’

  ‘Don’t tell me, my dear!’ The well-spoken woman held up an elegant hand, an expression of disgust on her face. ‘Our guests have to suffer it every evening. I refuse to serve alcohol here but one cannot temper the habits of others. I have tried to speak to the publican but to no avail. It’s a product of our licensing laws, I’m afraid. Some men feel the need to get as much down their throats as they can before closing time. What is vulgarly termed the six o’clock swill. You would be well advised to avoid the streets at this time of the evening. I myself have received dreadful threats. The war seems to have lowered everyone’s standards. It was much nicer in the old days.’ Mrs Churchill came from a privileged background and there was an air of resentment in her manner that gave the impression she did not have the respect she deserved. ‘Now, let me find you a room – for how long?’

  ‘Just a couple of nights.’ Nat spoke up. ‘Till we find somewhere more permanent.’

  Mrs Churchill said she could accommodate them. ‘And how are things at home? You must have had a dreadful time for the past four years.’

  Bright nodded, assuming that the woman was an immigrant too. ‘Did you come here before the war?’

  ‘Oh no, I was born here – but I intend to go home some day. Please do sit down whilst I organize someone to take you to your room.’

  ‘Is it always this hot?’ Bright sank into one of the nearby armchairs, portraying relief. Oriel and Nat remained standing to catch the draught from the ceiling fan.

  ‘Goodness me no, we’re in the grip of a heatwave. We’ve had some dreadful bushfires. No, it certainly isn’t normal for this time of year – but then I’m afraid you’ll find that there is no normality in Melbourne, where the weather is concerned at least. You can get four seasons in one day.’

  Bright smiled up at
her husband. ‘A bit like York then.’

  ‘Heaven forbid,’ muttered Nat. He leaned on the pile of suitcases, his eyes touring the foyer that abounded with pictures of royalty.

  ‘Oh, do excuse me!’ Mrs Churchill detached herself with an aloof smile to attend another guest of oriental appearance. ‘Your key, Mr Kamio – good, thank you!’

  When the smiling Japanese man had gone she turned her artificial smile on Bright again, murmuring through her teeth, ‘I’m so sorry, we don’t really encourage those types here but the war has robbed us of a lot of our clientele and I suppose they were our allies so we have to make allowances. He’s very quiet. I don’t think he’ll disturb you.’

  Bright rummaged in her bag for the piece of paper which bore the Ratcliffes’ new address. ‘You might be able to help us in our search for a house. Some friends of ours are staying in a place called Brighton and we’d like to be near them.’

  ‘Which particular part of Brighton would that be?’ When handed the scrap of paper the proprietress looked short-sightedly at it, then handed it back with a faintly contemptuous smile. ‘I think you will find they do not actually live in Brighton at all, my dear. They would not even squeeze into North Brighton. This street is on the Gardenvale side of North Road. It’s a failing of some, I fear, to tell little white lies to make them appear more affluent than they actually are. However, if you wish to live near them, then Brighton proper would not be too far away.’ The implication was that friends such as these were hardly worth knowing.

  Her face already flushed with the heat, Bright’s embarrassment was not so obvious, but she was glad that at this point a porter arrived to escort them to their rooms.

  ‘She’s very posh, isn’t she?’ opined Oriel, referring to Mrs Churchill. ‘More English than the English.’

  ‘I think she’s the sort you have to keep on the right side of,’ agreed her mother, then spread her arms to receive the cooling draught of the ceiling fan and looked amazed. ‘I can’t believe we’re really here at last, can you?’