‘I don’t think we can blame her,’ joked his wife. ‘It must’ve happened on our wedding night.’ Bright’s fertility amazed her. Her she was, thirty-eight years old, up until and including that wedding night she had only ever made love twice and both times she had become pregnant. ‘And there was me putting it down to seasickness. It’s due in late summer. No, I’m forgetting, it’s not summer, it’s winter here – whatever, it’ll be around the end of August, or the beginning of September.’
‘Be nice if she arrived on your birthday,’ opined Nat. ‘You were a lovely little lass.’
‘What if it’s a boy?’ Bright began to fend off the insects again, using both hands.
‘I’ll send it back. We’re not having any lads in this house.’
‘Aw, I’d quite like a little boy.’
‘Sorry.’ He was adamant. ‘I’ve already booked a girl.’
She opened her mouth to say, don’t fathers usually want a son to carry on the family name, but just in time she remembered that Nat had no such family tradition. ‘Oh, whatever it is I don’t care as long as it’s all right.’
‘She’ll be right, mate.’ Nat tried to mimic the vernacular but failed to impress, and laughed. ‘God that were pathetic, weren’t it? Eh, she’ll be an Australian! What better way to start a new life in a new country?’ There was one small seed of concern and it showed on his face. ‘I wonder what madam’ll say?’
Bright flushed with guilt and tried to divert from her discomposure with another bout of semaphore. ‘She already knows – I’m sorry, I meant to tell you first but it was just the way she was carrying on in there made me let slip.’ She bit her lip. ‘I don’t think she’s too pleased.’
Nat was sick of trying to make amends to his capricious daughter, and was rather hurt that Oriel had known this important news before himself. ‘She’ll have to lump it then, ’cause I’m chuffed to bits and nothing and no one’s gonna spoil it. Eh, it’s a shame we’ve nobody else to share it with. I’m dying to tell somebody.’ A moment of sadness ensued as both thought of their dead friend Noel, and others who might as well be dead. Bright was first to rally. ‘You can write and tell Spud.’
‘Aye! He was always bragging about his kids. I could never retaliate and say I had a daughter without giving the game away to Oriel – like an idiot not realizing that she and everybody else already knew!’ He laughed. ‘Eh dear, what a palaver. Anyway, I can have a free hand with this bairn. Oh!’ He hugged his wife again. Bright had never seen him so animated, so happy. ‘And what I’m going to give her is no one’s business! She’ll want for nowt, specially not a father. What’re we gonna call her?’
‘Or him.’
‘I’ve told you, no lads!’ He pondered over a suitable name for this child. ‘We need summat that’ll match our new life. I know – Victoria!’ His wife pulled a face and said it was a bit old-fashioned. ‘Nay, I weren’t meaning after t’old Queen! I meant the lovely country our bairn’ll be born into – what’d be more fitting?’
‘Well, if you think of it like that it’s not so bad, I suppose.’ Bright still didn’t like the name. ‘Victoria Prince. It does have a noble ring to it.’
‘Oh aye, very aristossic,’ Nat mispronounced. ‘Victoria Prince. Nobody’s gonna take her for a ragman’s kid, are they?’
His wife smiled and said of course they wouldn’t, and wondered if Nat would carry this insecurity for the rest of his life. As they went inside to toast Victoria Prince she prayed that he would not be too bitterly disappointed if the child were male.
6
As Nat had feared Melinda was turning out to be more of a liability than an asset. Not only had Bright wasted good money on a pram and baby clothes for the maid, but also refused to let her do any heavy work nor even anything as strenuous as ironing.
‘We can’t let her stand ironing in her condition!’ she had said, as if he had asked the maid to dig a trench.
‘Then what use is she?’ he’d demanded.
‘Very useful, as a matter of fact.’
‘Aye, about as much use as a chocolate parasol. She plays on your good nature, moaning and groaning till you let her off.’
‘No! She’s only been here a couple of days and she’s taught me all kinds of things about life in Australia. For instance, you know how the food’s been going off so quickly? Melinda says there’s a man comes round selling ice. That tree out the back, the one I’ve been flummoxed over, that’s a pepper tree. The thing that makes that awful shrill noise then stops when you look for it, that’s a cicada – d’you want to know any more?’
‘Very informative,’ came Nat’s droll reply. ‘But does this walking encyclopaedia have a W section for work?’
‘I don’t know what you’re crowing at, you’re not even paying her.’
‘Not until she does some proper work I’m not.’
‘I would’ve thought it would be worth half a crown at least for introducing us to the pleasures of roast pumpkin.’
‘Ooh good, is that what we’re having tonight?’
‘Not if you don’t behave. Now it won’t be long before she can do the work. How much do we pay her then? I thought about ten shillings.’
‘Ten bob! Half o’ that’d be too much.’
‘Oh get away with ye!’ Bright had scolded, then she had gone to the kitchen, grabbed three bowls and put them on the table, then she, Oriel and the maid had launched into a pile of vegetables, talking almost nonstop whilst he, the master of the house, had been forced to stand there watching from the doorway like a spare part. In the end he had wandered outside to the garden where he stood now, feeling jealous and left out whilst the women continued to laugh and talk inside.
After a while Bright went to get some water, spotted him through the window and mopped her glowing brow. ‘Well, I think I’ve done enough. Oriel, don’t let Melinda be carrying those heavy pans to the stove now.’
‘I won’t.’ Oriel, dark hair sticking to her neck, carried on scraping and peeling. Did this heat never ease? It was bad enough for her, what must Melinda feel like, having to carry that lump around with her? During the short lull in the conversation after Bright’s departure she took to wondering about Melinda’s baby, where its father was, feeling a kind of affinity with the unborn child. Though curious, she felt it would be an intrusion to ask the maid to elaborate and so made other enquiries about this strange country.
‘Are women allowed to vote here, Melinda?’ She was pleased to receive the answer that they could, plus a short explanation that there were two seats of government to vote for, state and federal. ‘What party do you vote for?’
‘I just pick the same as me dad,’ the maid told her, adding darkly, ‘don’t know if I will since he’s thrown me out though.’
Oriel thought this rather feeble but didn’t say so. ‘Has your family been here a long time?’
‘Dad’s parents came over from England, Newcastle, in the gold rush. Me mum’s lot are Irish. I don’t know when they came.’
‘My mother’s family were Irish too,’ murmured Oriel.
‘She’s the real dinky-di, your mum,’ smiled Melinda. ‘Is it right she’s gonna have a bub too?’
Oriel flinched and delivered a look that told the maid she was getting above her station.
The culprit didn’t seem too perturbed. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a sticky beak. You can’t help overhearing when you live in the same house.’
‘I suppose not.’ Her companion remained tight-lipped. Unlike Dorothy, Melinda was not the type with whom to share intimacies.
‘Must be funny having a little brother or sister at your age,’ ventured Melinda, her knife going tap, tap, tap on the chopping board.
‘Quite hilarious,’ muttered Oriel. When asked if she was not pleased, she added, ‘Would you be?’
Well, I dunno.’ Melinda stopped to muse over the growing pile of carrots, her fingers orange. ‘Reckon there’s not much you can do about it now it’s on its way.’
Orie
l was not about to confide the true depth of her feelings, felt disloyal even over this brief discussion. She changed the subject. If Melinda was rude enough to mention her mother’s pregnancy then she would reciprocate. ‘Have you any idea where your baby’s father is?’
There came a bitter laugh. ‘Still on the lam if he knows what’s good for him, the mongrel.’
Oriel looked puzzled. ‘You’ve said that before, what d’you mean?’
‘On the run. Me dad’ll bash his brains out if he catches him.’ Asked if she felt the same way, she responded, ‘Well, I’m mad, I reckon, but it’s more… aw, I never thought Dan’d let me down like that otherwise I wouldn’ta let him. But you know what it’s like when a bloke gets intent on having his way. You’ve the devil’s own job to stop him. Specially when he’s a wounded hero.’ It emerged as a sigh. Melinda’s face turned dreamy.
Oriel had inherited the part of her father’s character that prevented any admission of ignorance. Hence she gave a sapient nod, though she who had never even been properly kissed had no inkling of what was involved in a man having his way with a woman. The knowledge that her grandmother had been involved in prostitution had, for her, no equation with the secrets of the marital bed. To her they were two separate acts and she had no education in either. The extent of her knowledge was that it involved the lower body regions but as for the mechanical aspect she was totally in the dark and had absolutely no idea of what a naked man looked like; the nearest she had come to this was the exhibits in the public art gallery which could hardly be paid the sort of scrutiny that Oriel would have liked. But she assumed a matter-of-fact air whilst her ears pricked assiduously for information on this taboo subject.
But none was to come. ‘You reckon I’m mad, I suppose.’ Melinda’s blue eyes oozed tears, which she fought to control. ‘Aw, why’d he have to go and leave me for? It wasn’t as if we’d never talked about getting married. Thought I had it all worked out, nice house, four kids… I wonder what he’s doing now.’
‘Maybe he will come back.’ It was said out of kindness.
The injured party lost her dreamy expression and sliced into another vegetable. ‘Well, if he does I’ll bloody kill him.’
‘I think we’ve done enough of these,’ announced Oriel, collecting the peelings and pods together. ‘Only the pumpkin to do now.’
Melinda performed a little whine. ‘D’yer think you could do it? I can’t seem to get the leverage on the knife these days. Aw, good on yer,’ she praised the other’s efforts. ‘Yer know, I can’t win. If I stand up me ankles puff up and if I sit down this gets in the way.’ She patted her abdomen. ‘I can’t wait to get rid of it. Even though I’m terrified. They say it really hurts.’
Hacking her way through the tough skin of the pumpkin Oriel tried to reassure her. ‘Well, it can’t be that bad or people wouldn’t go on having them, would they?’ Nevertheless, she balked at the thought of a baby being extracted from her own navel.
‘No. I suppose not. I’d love to be able to go to a dance.’
‘Oh, I would,’ agreed Oriel. ‘But it doesn’t matter whether or not you’re in that condition, you still wouldn’t be able to go, everywhere’s closed.’ Due to the surge in influenza cases she had been unable to visit many of Melbourne’s public amenities but had confined her excursions to the beach and open spaces. ‘Father’s always going on about me bringing this wretched flu home – but as soon as the epidemic’s over I promise we’ll go to a dance.’
Melinda looked wan. ‘I haven’t even got the price of a tram fare.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll pay for us both.’
‘Oh, you’re a real pal,’ grinned Melinda, then glanced up as Mr and Mrs Prince came in, and tried to make herself look busy.
‘It must be your father’s lucky day!’ Bright made room on a bench for Nat to deposit the large parcel. ‘His leaflets have just arrived and there was a letter in the post saying he can take over the warehouse from tomorrow. Thank God, we’ll be rid of those blessed tents.’
Nat showed uncharacteristic enthusiasm as he ripped open the packaging. ‘I can be up and working within a week! Does anybody fancy helping me deliver some leaflets – oh, don’t worry, I don’t mean thee!’ He saw Melinda’s face drop.
Both his wife and daughter offered to help. ‘You don’t mind putting the dinner on, d’you?’ Oriel looked at Melinda, who shook her head.
‘Are you sure ye’ll be all right on your own?’ Bright looked anxious, but at Nat’s expression she was forced to put on her hat and gloves and, each of them carrying a wad of leaflets, the family embarked upon the streets of Brighton to inform its residents of the new entrepreneur in their midst.
* * *
A week later Nat, equipped with horse and cart, was able to revisit these streets and reap the fruits of his enterprise. It was a good haul, Bright agreed with him when the cart rolled up outside their front door that evening.
‘Aye, there’s some grand stuff here.’ He collected a bundle of items in his arms and started to come towards the house. ‘Can you take these, they’re not heavy.’
‘I thought that’s what you got the warehouse for?’ Though puzzled, she accepted the bundle.
‘Well, I’ve nobody to help me there. These need to be graded and rather than ask you to come to the yard I thought we could all do it in t’house. You don’t mind, d’you?’
Bright said of course she didn’t and began to help carry the clothes indoors. Seeing this, Oriel assisted too.
Melinda stood watching, rubbing her back. Bright spotted her discomfort and paused to ask, ‘Oh no, have ye started?’
The maid grimaced. ‘Dunno. But I’ve had awful backache all afternoon.’
‘Oh, you have started.’ Bright glanced at her husband, who was carrying another pile of clothes in. ‘Melinda’s in labour, Nat.’
He did not falter in his task. ‘She isn’t going to have it right now, is she?’
‘Oh no, I should think it’ll be hours.’ But his wife retained her look of concern.
‘Well then, we’ll be long finished with this.’ With everything transferred from the cart to the drawing room, Nat disappeared for a while to tend the horse. When he came back his wife was trying on a coat. ‘Eh! If there’s any money in them pockets it’s mine.’ He bent over and started to divide the clothes into two separate piles, hurling them expertly with both hands. ‘Now then, that’s your lot,’ he instructed his three helpers and pointed to the clothes unfit for resale. Seizing his own selection of garments he added, ‘You can get cracking on them while I go take this good stuff to t’warehouse.’ These would be resold, not at a shop like before but at the market stall he had acquired.
‘But what d’you want us to do?’ asked his wife. ‘Melinda—’
‘Don’t worry, it’s nowt strenuous!’ Nat paused to explain. ‘All I want you to do is cut every button off. I think even she can manage to do that.’ His eyes abraded Melinda. ‘It’ll take your mind off things.’
Muttering over his insensitivity, Bright tried to make the girl as comfortable as possible. ‘Just do it for as long as you feel able – and you will tell us when it gets too bad, won’t ye?’
Melinda passed a fearful look at Oriel, then reached over her straining abdomen for a garment and all three women set upon their task.
Later that evening, after a tinful of buttons had been removed and Oriel had helped Melinda to her room, Bright dispatched Nat to fetch the midwife.
‘Why didn’t you send for her earlier?’ He had been about to get ready for bed.
‘Melinda wasn’t far enough gone.’
‘No, but we could’ve got them buttons removed a damned sight quicker with five of us on t’job.’
Hours after the household had retired to bed, the groans from the sleepout rose to yells, which burgeoned to screams as if Melinda were being tortured with hot irons. Startled awake, Oriel was riven with horror and wished she could go out for a walk but it was the middle of the night. Instead she
rammed her pillow over her head, squeezing it against her ears. Never, never would she submit herself to this violation and indignity.
Eventually, there came one more frightful scream, then gasps of relief and a baby’s cry. She must have fallen asleep then for she did not hear the midwife leave. Everyone slept late in the morning. When Oriel went to breakfast her parents had not been up long judging by their puffy faces. Bright announced that Melinda had given birth to a daughter, Alice.
‘I suppose I’d better go and see it,’ sighed Oriel.
‘Aw, don’t refer to her like that,’ scolded Bright. ‘She’s a canny little thing.’
‘Well, I’ll have breakfast first.’ Oriel rubbed her head. ‘My God, I just had this awful nightmare that I was cutting buttons off a pile of dead fish.’
Bright laughed. ‘Probably the smell of these kippers piercing your sleep – would you like some?’
Oriel declined, making do with toast and tea. Fifteen minutes later, carrying the tray her mother had prepared, she opened the door of the sleepout and was presented with the mother feeding her baby. ‘Sorry! I’ll come back.’
‘No, yer right! Come in and see her.’ Melinda grinned a welcome and fortunately for Oriel’s sensitivity closed the bodice of her nightgown. ‘Ooh, good on yer, brekkie! I’m famished. What d’you think to her?’
Oriel considered the baby to be a maggoty little creature but naturally kept her opinion to herself. ‘She’s lovely.’
‘I’m surprised you can see her from there,’ laughed Melinda. ‘Come and sit on the bed and I’ll tell you all about it.’
Oriel grimaced. ‘I heard enough last night.’
‘Oh, I thought I was gonna be ripped apart, I really did. My bum’s all split.’
Shock rippled Oriel’s breast and she was unable to prevent herself blurting in ignorance, ‘But it doesn’t come out of there!’
Melinda was jolly. ‘Tell that to Alice! The front door wasn’t big enough for her, she had to use the back as well – ooh, I am sore. Never again! Do you want to hold her?’
A Complicated Woman Page 15