A Complicated Woman

by Sheelagh Kelly

  Dot smiled into the mirror. ‘D’you think you’ll ever forgive your father?’

  Oriel wrinkled her painted Cupid’s bow lips. ‘I think I already have. It’s only when something like this arises to remind me that I start moaning about it. I don’t harp on too much, do I?’

  ‘No, that’s what friends are for, to listen to your moans.’

  ‘Oh no, don’t say that! It always seems to be me doing the moaning. I’m sorry, Dot.’ Oriel inserted a cigarette into a black holder and lit it. Since before Melinda had left she had been practising the art of smoking but had not wished to display it in public before achieving proficiency. Taking a deep inhalation she blew smoke at the ceiling, then paraded for her friend. ‘Do I look all right?’ Once she had felt insecure and girlish beside Dorothy, but the new straight silhouette and short skirts did nothing for her friend’s ample proportions and now Dorothy was the envious one.

  ‘Gorgeous,’ the robust young woman sighed. ‘You always look so elegant but even more so tonight. I hope we bump into that Errol Windross just to show him what he’s missing.’

  ‘Errol who?’

  Dorothy laughed. ‘How long have you been smoking? I haven’t had one since I was fifteen and nearly choked myself. Can I have a puff?’ Having taken a tentative drag she accepted the offer of a whole one and the two went to say goodbye to Oriel’s parents.

  Bright wished them a good time, then added jovially, ‘A bit heavy with the lipstick, dear. You look like one of those dubious ladies on St Kilda Road.’

  Oriel flinched. A great cloak of embarrassment settled over the gathering, including Bright.

  ‘Oh you look lovely, though!’ she stammered and after a quick apologetic glance at her husband, bent her head over her knitting.

  Oriel sighed at Dorothy, who was looking at her feet. ‘Come on, let’s pull this wishbone before we go out, and see if we can make 1920 a better year than the last. It can’t be much worse.’

  ‘Do I get a go?’ asked Nat. His daughter said she would make his wish for him. ‘I wish them orientals’d sell that land I’m after.’ For weeks he had been trying to get his hands on some allotments owned by the Chinese gardeners. ‘The only answer I get is nods and smiles and bows. It’s true what people say, they are inscrutable.’

  ‘That’s a big word to come up with before he’s had his supper, isn’t it?’ His wife tried to sound cheerful when in fact she despaired of her own stupidity. ‘What would you like for the New Year, Dorothy?’

  ‘A husband,’ came the reply.

  So would I, yearned Oriel, but what was the point in wishing when the man with whom she had fallen hopelessly in love was married to someone else?

  10

  Whilst Nat might have been thwarted in his New Year’s ambition, Dorothy’s appeared to have been granted for on that very same night she had met her heart’s desire. Cuthbert, the young man who escorted her home from the party, had been courting her for several weeks now, thereby robbing Oriel of her friend’s company. Only with Cuthbert’s sanction were they permitted to socialize.

  ‘Isn’t he masterful?’ Dorothy had breathed when this tall and brooding young man had announced in impeccable English that henceforth she would dance with no one but him. ‘Just like Mr Rochester.’

  Oriel considered this to be domineering, but was too kind to wipe the happiness off her friend’s face. Hailing from the wealthy residential area of South Yarra, Cuthbert was to all intents and purposes a good catch for any girl. Indeed, he was well groomed, good-looking and appeared to have great command of a situation. But beneath this façade of urbanity Oriel detected a poor brain. Left to his own devices, Cuthbert would never aspire to the position his parents had built for themselves and, to compensate, must for ever surround himself with subordinates.

  If Oriel did not like Cuthbert then the feeling was mutual – any girl who wore her skirts so short could not be decent. Considering his opinion of her it was a wonder he even allowed Dorothy to see her friend at all, but when they did meet it would be Cuthbert who dictated at what time they would leave, announcing briskly, ‘We’re going home now, Dorothy!’ And she would meekly comply. Looking at that robust physique people would never imagine Dorothy to be so pliable but Oriel, who had once been taken in by this authoritative façade, knew that it concealed a placid nature.

  Now that the dreaded influenza had faded to a bad memory, nightlife had started to perk up again but, with her friend so absorbed in another, rarely did Oriel have the chance to take full advantage of this. There was, however, a rush of daytime social occasions to entertain the immigrants. In March, she and her mother joined the crowds behind the barricades and the decorated trees on North Road to salute the Prince of Wales, who had come to honour the war-damaged veterans of the Anzac Hostel.

  Many of the crowd had been here since noon. By the time Oriel and her mother arrived they found it hard to find a viewpoint, but knew by the excited buzz that something was about to happen. At four fifteen the Prince, a dapper figure in bowler hat, overcoat and spats, came along New Street into North Road towards the iron gates of Anzac Hostel. Flag and paper parasol aloft, Oriel reared above the row of schoolchildren who blocked off the road beyond the entrance to the former mansion, waving and cheering for all she was worth, until the Prince was finally escorted by local dignitaries through the gates, leaving the crowd on tenterhooks for another half-hour until he emerged to more cheers and was on his way to Melbourne.

  About to disperse with the rest of the onlookers, Oriel tugged at her mother’s sleeve. ‘Hang on, that’s Jimmy Magee, isn’t it?’ She pointed to a lone figure inside the gates. ‘If I can get through I’ll have a word with him.’ Her promise to Daniel had gone unfulfilled, for though she passed the gates of the convalescent hospital most days she had seen nothing of his friend. ‘I want to ask if he’s heard anything from Daniel.’

  She had received one letter from Melinda shortly after her arrival in the Mallee but there had been nothing since, and no invitation to visit. Oriel was eager for news.

  ‘They won’t let you in,’ warned her mother, but followed all the same.

  Unable to gain access because of the official visit, Oriel hailed Jimmy from the footpath and he came hesitantly forward.

  ‘Oh, it’s Oriel!’ On recognizing her he smiled. ‘Hello, Mrs Prince. Did you both enjoy the visit?’

  ‘Yes! I was just wondering if you’d heard anything from Daniel?’

  ‘Got a letter a few weeks ago. Seem to be doing all right.’ Jimmy tried to remember what was in the letter, relating it to Oriel, who listened assiduously, eyes glittering, in the shade of her parasol. ‘It’s a good job somebody is. I can’t get work for love nor money. Some o’ the blokes from the RSL are going on a march next week to talk to Billy Hughes.’ He referred to the Prime Minister. ‘Reckon the Government should pay some sort of allowance till we find employment.’

  ‘I quite agree,’ endorsed Oriel. ‘And if there’s anything we can do just come and ask. You have our full support, doesn’t he, Mother?’

  A sudden nervousness came over Jimmy’s face. ‘Thanks – don’t know if I’ll be going though.’ Oriel asked him what he did before the war. He scratched his head frantically, face confused. ‘Oh, er, this and that – look, I’m sorry I’ll have to go now – so long!’

  The bemused women watched him hurry away, then turned for home. Never a great admirer of the aristocracy, Nat had stayed behind, angry too that the visit had forbidden his cart access to the streets and so robbed him of a day’s work – ‘Bloody royalty, some of us have to earn a living!’ – though his wife and daughter noticed that he was suspiciously close to the perimeter fence.

  ‘You’ve been sneaking a look!’ observed Bright as they met with him. ‘And all the time pretending you’re not interested.’

  He gestured at the pram. ‘Nay, I was pushing t’babby round t’garden – she wouldn’t stop crying! What would I want to go waving at that funny-looking little bugger for? Bet he
doesn’t wear socks like these.’ He hoisted his trouser leg to display striped hosiery, then beheld her tear-streaked face with mock accusation. ‘Anyroad, if he were that good a sight why are you looking so miserable?’

  Bright tucked her miniature Union Jack under her arm, blew her nose and wiped her eyes. ‘Oh it was lovely to see him!’ she said, as if of a favourite relative. ‘But it reminded us of home, didn’t it?’ Her daughter nodded, though her mind had wandered from the Prince of Wales to Daniel, imagining him toiling on his farm.

  ‘Well, I don’t need too many reminders, thank you very much,’ said Nat. ‘Especially ones like this. Look at all that rubbish the mucky buggers have left outside our house! Next time I hear he’s coming I’m going to demand they divert the procession past somebody else’s front door.’

  Oriel twirled her paper parasol, a mischievous look on her face. ‘Better get your skates on then, there’s another march next week! Oh, don’t worry, it’s not more royalty.’ She grinned at her father. ‘I shouldn’t laugh really, it’s serious. It’s a protest march by returned soldiers – Jimmy Magee just told us.’

  ‘Protest? I’ll show ’em protest if the bludgers come marching past my front door!’ Nat had adopted many Australian words without knowing their true meaning. An elderly passerby gave him a look of disgust which he did not comprehend, ignorant of the fact that in her day bludger had meant pimp. However, he was never one to care what people thought of him and continued blithely, ‘Have they got nowt better to do?’

  ‘That’s the whole point of the march,’ explained his daughter impatiently. ‘All these strikes are preventing them from working. They’re going to talk to the Prime Minister about it. It’s disgusting that these poor men should be treated so shabbily after what they’ve been through, and I’m going to support them.’

  ‘You’re not going – tell her she’s not going.’ Nat grabbed the handle of the pram and began to move towards the house. ‘Wherever there’s soldiers there always ends up being trouble.’

  Bright tried to mediate. ‘He’s just worried about you being hurt.’

  Oriel acquiesced and, not wishing to upset the happy household, said, ‘Oh, all right! I’ll just support them in spirit instead – providing!’ She hurried after her father. ‘Providing you give Jimmy Magee a job.’

  ‘There’s not work for two of us at yard!’

  ‘Then why do Mother and I have to cut buttons off till our fingers are raw? I’m sure there’s something you can find him to do. He can do the collecting!’

  ‘I like doing that meself.’

  ‘The market stall then!’

  ‘Nay, I didn’t really want to start employing folk again. They’re more bother than they’re worth.’

  ‘I suppose they are when you’ve got slaves at home.’

  ‘Eh, cheeky monkey!’ Nat pointed, but was not really angry.

  ‘He can have Melinda’s old room,’ suggested Oriel.

  ‘What! We have to put a roof over his head an’ all?’

  ‘He can’t stay at the convalescent hospital all his life. Oh, please. I promised Daniel I’d look after his friend and so far I’ve done nothing.’ And she did so want to please him.

  Nat looked helplessly at his wife. ‘You might as well put your two pennorth in about this Jimmy Magee bloke. I can see you’re dying to.’

  Bright had been nodding in agreement with her daughter but now assumed a theatrical air of indecision. ‘Well, I don’t know. We’ve only the one table, I’m not sure we’d both fit underneath. He’d have to take his turn.’

  Oriel’s look of anxiety crumbled into a giggle.

  Nat sniggered too. ‘Oh go on then!’ He shook his head at being so manipulated.

  ‘Thanks, Father, you’re a brick.’ Oriel’s voice projected real gratitude. She knew how much he hated having strangers in the house.

  Nat bent and muttered privately to the baby, ‘I hope she said brick.’

  Oriel did not hear, chattering to her mother. ‘I’ll be able to tell Daniel his friend’s being looked after the next time I write to Mel. I’ll go and let Jimmy know tomorrow.’

  * * *

  Oriel’s good intentions were harder to carry out than she had anticipated. Standing in autumn sunshine before the gateway of the convalescent hospital, she balked at the long driveway ahead and the army of chairbound veterans dotted about its lawned acres. Behind her, from the red-brick school of St James came the sound of childish chanting. Nearby, through an open window of the Star of the Sea convent school, a nun’s voice demanded obedience from her class. The harsh sound of a rule striking a desk prodded Oriel through the gates and along the driveway. Under the grinning scrutiny of the inmates, she felt extremely uncomfortable and walked with head down as quickly as she could without actually breaking into a run. The mansion seemed miles away from the road, especially with wolf whistles hampering every step.

  ‘Will yer stop’n’ talk to me?’

  Barely able to decipher the request, Oriel glanced at the twisted wreck of a man in a wheelchair, saw the great dent in his forehead, the saliva on his chin, and muttered, ‘Sorry, I’m in a hurry!’

  ‘Why would she want to talk to a cabbage like you?’ The sarcastic response emerged from the shade of oaken branches. Oriel turned to see the man she had come to visit, and at once was deeply embarrassed. Jimmy Magee continued to lean against the expansive trunk, drawing on a cigarette. His black eyes were scathing.

  Wondering now what had possessed her to come, she approached the shady spot with caution, holding on to her bag for support. ‘Hello. I just came to tell you that my father has a job if you want it. I’m not sure how much he’ll pay but you’d get board and lodgings.’

  Jimmy did not immediately jump at the offer of work as she might have expected. ‘What does it involve?’

  ‘Well, I haven’t really discussed it with Father. I don’t suppose it will be anything special, just helping him to cut the buttons off garments he collects and—’

  ‘Yer mean even a cripple could do it?’

  ‘I didn’t mean that at all!’ Oriel showed insult.

  ‘Thanks, but I want a real job, not just charity. Ray might fancy it, though.’ He threw away his cigarette and stepped into the sunshine, grabbing the handles of the brain-damaged man’s wheelchair. ‘What d’yer say, Ray? Think yer can be trusted with a pair o’ scissors?’

  Humiliated, Oriel stood there watching Ray’s tortured mouth form his words, which to her were unintelligible but Jimmy Magee appeared to know what he said.

  ‘Ah, I don’t think the lady comes with the job, mate!’ With great theatrics, Jimmy turned the wheelchair around, his back to Oriel. ‘And I think she’s seen enough of an ugly bugger like you for today – back in the cupboard yer go.’ With this he left Oriel standing there on the lawn, with only the brim of her straw hat to hide her discomfiture.

  * * *

  Her father was astounded when told that his kind offer had been rebuffed. ‘They chunter on about not having jobs and when they’re offered one they turn their noses up! And d’you know why? ’Cause they won’t have the excuse of going on all these marches and brawls!’

  Oriel was subdued. ‘I don’t think Jimmy’s that type, somehow.’ Though his inexplicable resentment at her offer had wounded her deeply.

  ‘He’s the same as his mate!’

  Her eyes shot up. ‘Who, Daniel? It wasn’t him who started the fight at the wedding.’

  ‘They’re all the same! And just because meladdo’s turned the job down don’t think it means you can break the bargain and go to this protest march. You watch, there’ll be hair and teeth flying all over t’place.’

  As it turned out, the newspapers reported comparatively little violence at the march. At the Commonwealth offices the diggers were told that there had to be a limit to the responsibility of the repatriation department.

  Some of the men had been home for more than two years – it could not be expected they would be insured against any job
loss or financial setback which arose from industrial circumstances. There was plenty of forestry work around for those who wanted it. The Government would resist all attempts at intimidation.

  Nevertheless, the unrest and protest marches were to continue.

  ‘Is that all they do here, have bloody processions?’ exclaimed Nat, when in only a matter of days yet more soldiers were marching in the St Patrick’s Day parade – ten thousand of them. Even in York with its large pockets of Catholicism they had never seen the saint so vastly supported. Bright thought it wonderful and, as it was a religious event, felt it would be safe enough for her and Oriel to attend this display, taking Vicky in her pram bedecked with green ribbons. They were also in line to shed a sentimental tear at the Anzac Day commemoration in April when the diggers once again paraded along North Road.

  Oriel had not seen Jimmy Magee since the day she had visited Anzac Hostel and was none too pleased to see him today outside the gates, alongside his friend Ray and other men in wheelchairs, Red Cross nurses in attendance, all watching the marching band. She would have pretended not to see him if that had been possible but unfortunately Ray caught sight of her and delivered a lopsided wave. To ignore him would have been an even greater insult to the mutilated soldier than she had delivered previously and so telling her mother that she would just go and share a word, Oriel nipped deftly across the road between the last marching band and the next and found herself standing beside Ray’s wheelchair, with Jimmy Magee on her other side. After a few awkward words and grotesque contortions from Ray, she felt she must turn to Jimmy.