He was not there. An anxious tour of every nook and cranny of the luxurious palace, a tentative peep into the billiard room, each met with strange faces. Maybe he had been forced to work late. With this her last recourse she left the palatial building and hurried outside to Collins Street where the commuters had all but gone.
Too anxious to stand around waiting for a tram that might spare her legs, Oriel set off on foot, trying to expel the sickening doubt in her mind. In the lull that preceded the next rush of nightlife she headed up Collins Street towards the Treasury and Government offices at the opposite end, a lengthy trek but it was not her feet that suffered. Past solid colonial masonry, slender skyscraper, doctors’ grand apartments, newspaper office, bank after bank after bank, a row of hansom cabs, another row of automobiles, her mind took in none, focused only on the building at the Paris end of the street where he had told her he worked. It was dark now. Theatre lights illuminated her way – the nightlife had begun to liven up – but Oriel didn’t feel lively, she felt hollow and worried and vulnerable. A musical clock appeared to taunt her. Three, four, five intersections, past the police barracks on the corner of Russell Street… another block… and then finally she was there.
His workplace was in darkness. Feeling conspicuous just standing there panting, she escaped from under the beam of the elegantly drooping streetlamp and moved into the gloomy pool beneath a tree, where she dithered for a while longer, casting helpless glances along the street, ears humming in tune to the tram cable. A light shone from an upper casement, framing the figure of an artist at work in his studio, but it was not Errol. How foolish of her not to have asked for his telephone number – but Dorothy would still have it. With this in mind and anxiety in her heart, she faced up to the seven-mile journey home.
When she reached the farmhouse there were questions to be dodged. ‘I didn’t expect you home yet,’ observed her mother, needles clicking knit-one-purl-one over the baby’s matinee jacket, Nat raising a finger of greeting from the arm of his easy chair.
‘He had to leave early.’ How wretched Oriel felt now at having divulged that she was going to see Errol. ‘Is it all right if I give Ratty a ring?’
At her mother’s happy nod she closed the door and picked up the phone. Dorothy sympathized. Then when Oriel asked if her friend still had Errol’s telephone number, she said, ‘Hang on,’ and went to search for it. After what seemed an interminable time she returned to the phone. ‘Sorry I was so long. I do have it. Got a pencil?’
Oriel said in a pathetic little whine, ‘Could you…?’
‘Course! I’ll ring you back.’ Dorothy’s sentence ended with a click.
Oriel poked her head into the living room and warned her parents. ‘If the phone rings it’s for me. Dot’s going to call me back. Then she returned to pace the hall, grabbing the receiver the moment it rang.
There was to be more disappointment. Dorothy passed on the information that Errol’s mother had given her: he was out – perhaps she could ring tomorrow?
Insistent that it must be tonight – for how could she go to bed knowing he might have suffered an accident? – Oriel begged her friend to try again later. Dorothy gave a kind reply and the line was broken, leaving Oriel to bite her nails for another hour.
When the telephone rang again her friend’s tone had altered. It was still kind but tinged with a note of compassion. ‘I’m sorry, Oriel. He can give no good reason for standing you up.’ In fact Dorothy, upon hearing that he had been out with someone else, had had a blazing row with Errol who without any pressure at all had gone on to admit that his mother wouldn’t approve of him going out with someone who was illegitimate so it was rather a waste of time. ‘So you just left her there waiting, you coward!’ she had yelled. ‘She thought you’d had an accident!’
‘Could you tell her I’m—’ he had begun.
‘Tell her yourself, snake-face!’ Dorothy had bawled before hooking up the phone; but she knew that he was not the type to do this and so tried to break the news as gently as possible to her friend, which was difficult for Oriel was crying. Without mentioning her friend’s illegitimacy, she explained, ‘I think he’s a bit of a mother’s boy really. Just get him out of your mind. He isn’t worth it.’
The victim sniffed into her handkerchief and, suppressing a feeling of nausea, thanked her friend.
‘There’s not much to thank me for. I’m only glad you found out about him before it went too far.’ By too far, Dorothy did not mean to imply sexual terms but this was Oriel’s inference. Errol might blame his mother but in reality it was he who had lost respect for her. Panic rippled through her entire body. Too far? It had already gone too far.
8
Naïve as she may be, Oriel had learned from her mother that the purpose of menstruation was to show that all was well within, and if ‘The Cardinal’ did not pay his visit it could be for only one reason: the woman was pregnant. Ergo, instead of being allayed with time, the hurt and fear that stemmed from her liaison with Errol increased as days, then weeks went by and there was no ecclesiastical manifestation.
She could broach her terror to no one, not even Dorothy; particularly now as her friend, thinking she was doing Oriel a service, passed on some gossip about Errol’s penchant for confidence trickery. ‘You had a lucky escape – it seems he’s a bit of a Lothario. Once he’s had his way with a girl he drops her.’
Oriel blushed. Did it not occur to her friend that this was what had happened to her, knowing what she did about her grandmother’s profession? But no, Dorothy was genuinely taken in, still believing the reason for his abandonment to be Oriel’s illegitimacy.
The reason was of no importance to Oriel when, shortly afterwards, she bumped into Errol at a local dance, canoodling with a girl. The shock of coming face to face with his callous disregard was like being poleaxed. When he granted her the briefest unashamed hello she could not respond but hovered there like a gooseberry watching him waltz his new victim around the floor whilst Dorothy, trying to alleviate her misery, labelled him worthless. ‘Forget him, he’s nothing but a lecher!’
Melinda, too, seemed well informed. ‘I could’ve told you that,’ she announced now to Oriel upon the divulgence as to why there would be no more afternoons on the beach with Errol and David. But I thought you already knew, you being much more travelled than me. Thought that was what attracted yer. Never trust a city type, that’s what I say. Never trust a boy from the bush neither, come to think of it.’ She grimaced and patted her stomach. ‘They’re all after one thing. You didn’t give it to him, did you?’
‘Of course not! What d’you think I am?’ Oriel made a great show of offence to put Melinda in her place, even though the lie robbed her of a chance to ask for help from one who had been in this dilemma – for she could not possibly tell her mother. There was no alternative but to visit a doctor, though she balked at the imagined reaction to her unmarried status. Her eyes fell on Melinda’s hands as they cleaned the table and a flash of inspiration occurred. The maid still wore the wedding ring which Oriel had bought for her.
Without asking for its return, for this would invite suspicion, she instead went to purchase a ring for herself and slipped it on to her wedding finger before at last going to consult a physician, choosing one in the city to avoid any embarrassing encounters.
Seated in the waiting room, she tried to fight her terrible nausea at the smell of ether. Others who waited were reading magazines, but Oriel was too terrified to absorb the printed word, too dizzy even to take in pictures. An eternity passed, during which her bowels threatened to explode every time the doctor opened his door to invite another patient in. Acquainted now with the terrible decision that her mother had had to face, she tried to adopt the same maternal feelings, imagined herself with a tiny human being to care for, and found herself lacking. There was no question that, unlike her own mother, she would get support from her family. But did she want it? Should she instead pretend to go away on a holiday and have the baby adopte
d? No, she could not do that either, could not live with the hurt this would inflict on those who loved her.
‘Mrs Maguire!’
Oriel’s innards leaped as the doctor finally summoned her. Twisting her wedding ring she sat at his desk and explained her reason for consulting him, all the while dreading that she was going to be sick any moment.
Noting her nervousness, the doctor responded with a kindly, calming air, asking her several questions, such as what was the date of her last menstruation.
Blushing, Oriel told him it had been about seven weeks ago.
‘Ah, then it may still be a little early to tell,’ came the thoughtful reply. ‘Is there anything else that leads you to the expectation that you might be pregnant? Any tenderness of the body? Any sickness?’
Oriel did feel sick, but answered, ‘I’m… not sure.’
‘Well let’s just have a look at you anyway.’ The doctor invited her to go behind a screen, remove her clothing and get up on a bed.
Bashful and vulnerable, Oriel lay there for what seemed like another eternity and when he did not come called in a reedy voice, ‘I’m ready, Doctor.’
He appeared, rubbing his hands which he applied to Oriel’s body. She flinched and lay there deeply humbled whilst he performed his examination.
He left her to dress then. When her pink face appeared at his desk he pointed to a chair and told her, ‘As I said, it’s a little early to tell with any surety, but I would doubt very much indeed that you are pregnant, Mrs Maguire.’
Oriel broke down in tears of relief.
‘I’m so sorry to disappoint you.’ The doctor leaned over to pat her shoulder. ‘But you can’t have been married long?’ In answer he received only a tearful shake of head. ‘No, well, given time it’ll happen. You seem very highly strung. I can only surmise that the delay in menstruation is due to anxiety. I’ll give you a tonic, and if nothing happens after a couple of weeks come back – but I am sure it will.’
Oriel issued nasal thanks, blew her nose and hurried from the consulting room, deeply relieved.
There was, however, no escape from the hurt and deception inflicted by a man who, she now recognized, had simply duped her in order to satisfy his appetite. Slipping the wedding ring from her finger and into her bag, Oriel determined never to be so taken in again, vowed to amend her ignorance without delay. There must be literature that could enlighten her.
After treating her dry mouth to a glass of lime juice she went directly to a large book arcade where she first perused the novel section and slowly worked her way around the shop, her darting eyes searching every shelf. She was in the store for so long, flicking nervous glances around her that she aroused the suspicions of the assistant, who to her horror came over to offer help.
‘I’m a nurse!’ Oriel hoped her blush would not convict her. ‘I’m looking for the medical section.’ The assistant nodded and escorted her to a short row of books. She thanked him and began to browse a copy of The Modern Physician, her manner confident until she came to a graphic illustration and hurriedly replaced the tome on the shelf. She picked up another, equally descriptive and crouched over it lest anyone should see over her shoulder. Under the persistent scrutiny of the assistant she put it back and eventually found one entitled Married Love, which she hoped might be enlightening. It was, and another, called Wise Parenthood, provided all the knowledge she required, but she was too embarrassed to purchase it on its own and so took three other textbooks with it to the counter, the resulting bill leaving her with only enough money to get the train home.
Most of the books turned out to be fascinating in one way or another. How she wished she had been in possession of them before, but however engrossing, the pages led her thoughts back to Errol’s duplicity and despite the relief that she did not carry his child, her melancholy was to remain.
‘What’s up with that lass?’ Nat demanded of his wife that evening when his daughter remained closeted in her room. Normally if he made some remark that she did not care for she would return his fire, but lately she had been most lethargic.
Obviously her mother had noticed this too and guessed that it had something to do with the young man whom her daughter no longer went to meet. She feared it might be something more than a broken love affair, but for Nat she played dumb. It was no good the two of them worrying until there was something to worry about. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘She’s been stuck in her room all afternoon – not to mention she’s hardly said half a dozen words all week.’
‘I think as she gets older she’s getting more like you in that respect. She used to be such a chatterbox.’ A fond smile played at her lips as she recalled Oriel as a little girl.
‘There’s more to it than that. She can still yammer on if she wants to.’ He worried about his daughter, recognizing his own black moods from the expression on her face, hating to think of her suffering in that manner. ‘Is there summat you’re not telling me?’
‘No! Go and ask her, if it’ll put your mind at rest.’
‘She won’t welcome my interference. You go – go on, you can’t kid me you’re not worried.’
So Bright was pushed into a task that she ought to have done long before. Knocking on her daughter’s bedroom door, she opened it straight away and poked her head in.
With no time to hide the book, Oriel’s fumblings sent it to the floor. She snatched it up, but not before her mother had seen that it contained obstetrical diagrams.
‘You’re not ill, are you?’ Bright’s face portrayed shock.
‘No!’ Oriel tried to lay the book nonchalantly aside but her mother came to look at it. ‘I was just considering whether or not to try my hand at nursing again.’
Bright sensed the lie and her heart wept for it. ‘Your father’s worried that you don’t seem very happy – I mean, we both are. It’s nothing to do with that young man, is it? You’d tell me, wouldn’t you? You’re not—’ She broke off and stood there, anxiously awaiting the words she was dreading.
Oriel was experienced enough now to grasp Bright’s meaning. ‘No, no.’ She shook her head, looked back at her mother, whom she had rarely burdened with her problems, then sighed. ‘Have you ever bitten into a sugared almond to find the kernel is rotten? Well, that’s what happened to me. That’s all.’
Bright rested her hands on her abdomen, feeling the child move beneath. ‘He wasn’t as nice as you thought?’ When her daughter merely nodded, obviously unwilling to discuss the matter, she nodded too and looked thoughtfully upon the book. ‘Well… as long as you’re all right.’
‘Yes, I’m fine, honestly.’ Oriel could say this with surety now. The Cardinal had appeared at last, without her barely having sipped the doctor’s tonic. ‘I’ll come and join you in a minute.’
And this was the answer that Bright took back to her husband. ‘She’s just been let down by somebody. The pig, I could kill him. The look on her face.’
‘You don’t mean—’
‘No, she says not.’
‘Is there nowt we can do to cheer her up?’
His wife shook her head. ‘We’ll have to let her get over it in her own way. You know what she’s like, least said soonest mended.’ She picked up her knitting, noticing the thoughtful look on his face. ‘And don’t be feeling guilty that you’re happy and she isn’t. I know you.’
He was amused that she read him so well. ‘Aye, but contentment has its price – look at this!’ He patted his stomach. ‘What with all this good food I’m like an old porker.’
‘You know just what to say to make me feel rotten, don’t you?’ she laughed, indicating her own plump figure.
‘Nay, you’ve got an excuse, I haven’t. I’ll have to get some exercise.’
‘Why don’t you take up gardening?’ Oriel had entered in ghost-like fashion making her parents start.
Glad that she had chosen to join them Nat was overly cheerful. ‘Aye! Not a bad idea, we could grow our own veg at back there. I don’t know if I feel like
tackling it at moment, though. D’you know what I’ve often fancied doing? Painting.’
‘There’s plenty of painting round here to do,’ said Bright. ‘Excuse me, I’ll have to go again.’ She hurried off to the lavatory.
‘Painting pictures, I mean,’ called Nat, and heard an exclamation to show that she’d heard.
Oriel displayed an interest she did not feel, asking why didn’t he buy some art equipment.
‘I’d feel daft. Still, I might just give it a bash – you might fancy it an’ all.’ He tried to raise her spirits.
‘It’s not really my forte.’ Her brain saw not oils and canvas but the interior of a bathing hut with two writhing bodies.
Melinda’s baby started to wail. Nat threw up his eyes, but then his wife distracted him with an excited call from the back yard. ‘Come outside and have a look at this!’
‘His master’s voice,’ announced Nat, and pushed himself from the chair.
Oriel was listless but, at her father’s prompting, followed him out into the darkness where the gum trees loomed in the moonlight, their rustling leaves touching the air with the faint scent of eucalyptus. It was cold and she wrapped her arms around herself as her mother pointed triumphantly skywards.
‘I rather think it’s the moon,’ Nat said drily.
‘Dozy! Look at it carefully. This man in the moon has a different face from the one at home. A squat little face! Not like ours. I mean not like an English moon. That’s because it’s upside down. Turn your head like this.’ Nat and Oriel copied Bright as she leaned to her left, her head on one side.
‘Oh aye!’ From his contorted position Nat could make out a more familiar visage now. ‘Well, I’ll be blowed.’
All three of them hung virtually upside down for another few seconds until Bright groaned and held her side. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this.’ She straightened, then something caught her eye and she peered into the dinge. ‘What’s that moving out there?’ Unnerved, she grabbed Nat’s arm. ‘There! It’s some sort of animal.’
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