by Annie Seaton
On a Sunday? Liv pushed away the disappointment that had settled when she’d realised he wasn’t getting into the taxi with her. Why on earth should that bother her?
Fynn leaned into the front of the taxi. ‘Poinciana House please, mate.’ He passed over a twenty-dollar note and Liv protested. ‘Really, there’s no need.’
A flash of white teeth in a tanned face, a flick of a hand and Fynn loped away back to the marina. Liv watched until he disappeared behind the main building. She’d insist on reimbursing him when he took her back this afternoon. A person only worked so many different jobs if they needed the money. The taxi pulled away from the kerb and turned onto a main road, going past a small shopping centre before turning back towards the water.
With any luck, this wouldn’t take too long, and she could get back to her computer. The taxi turned onto a quiet road that ran the length of a beach, and at each end of the bay was a small headland. Yachts floated lazily on the calm water just a stone’s throw from the beach. At the western end, where the road came to a dead end at the bottom of a small hill, a lush green lawn ran to the edge of the sand. On the beach side of the street a wide-fronted low Queenslander house fronted the lawn, surrounded on each side by two huge spreading Poinciana trees. The soft cream colour of the graceful house contrasted with the greenery surrounding it. Cornices of dark green wrought iron lace filled the corners of an open verandah, where baskets of brightly coloured flowers hung in the sunshine. The verandah surrounded the house on three sides, and the lawn at the back of the house was separated from the sand by a low fence with a wooden gate.
The taxi pulled to a stop at the edge of the footpath. Liv climbed out slowly and looked at the cars parked on the grass verge. Laughter and happy voices directed her attention to a group of people on the lawn. A game of cricket was in progress on the beach at the back of the house, and a couple of small children were riding an old-fashioned three-wheeler bike up and down the path that led to the front of the house.
‘Lily!’ Heads turned at the high-pitched squeal.
‘Here we go again,’ Liv sighed, wondering why she had agreed to come.
Aunty Tat hurried down the path towards her, nimbly sidestepping the children and bike on her way. Liv held out her hand and took Aunt Tat’s arm before the elderly woman could grab her again. Her skin was still healing where the manicured nails had dug into her palm on Friday.
‘Lily! You came! Byron said you would. I’ve been waiting for ages.’ Her voice was childlike, and Liv couldn’t help but smile.
‘I did come. You live in a very lovely place.’ She looked around as Byron and a woman walked towards them from the group across the lawn.
‘Hello, Ms Sheridan. Thanks so much for coming over. We really appreciate it.’ He nodded to the woman beside him. ‘This is my wife, Louise.’
Liv smiled at the woman who held her hand out.
‘Lovely to meet you, Ms Sheridan,’ Louise said. ‘And yes, thank you so much for coming. We’ve had a couple of long nights here,’ she added quietly. ‘But when By said you would come over to visit today, Aunty Tat was much happier and she settled. We know it’s only a short-term solution but it’s very hard to see her so distressed.’
‘Call me Liv, please.’ Liv smiled down at Aunty Tat, who had looped her arm through hers and seemed quite happy to stand there listening to their conversation.
Byron took Liv’s free arm. ‘Come and sit down on the lawn chairs beneath the tree. It’ll be cooler out of the sun for you, Aunty Tat.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And it will give you some space, otherwise she’ll hang onto you all day.’
Louise was friendly as they walked together. ‘This is all family. We’ll do the introductions before lunch.’ She waved an arm towards the group chatting on the lawn. ‘Aunty Tat has six children. Most of them and their children, and grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren still live locally. Sunday afternoons are a bit of an institution here when the weather cools down. The barbeque will be fired up soon, and family will come and go all afternoon.’
Liv sat in a cane lounge chair facing the water and Aunty Tat took the one closest to her. She turned to face Aunty Tat. ‘So, tell me, are you Byron’s aunty or great aunty?’
Byron laughed. ‘Now this is where it gets confusing. Everyone calls you Aunty Tat, don’t they, sweetheart?’
Aunty Tat smiled. ‘They do.’ She leaned over to Liv and patted her hand. ‘But, of course you don’t, Lily, do you?’
‘What would you like me to call you?’
‘You call me Tat, don’t you remember? And when you’re cross with me, you call me Tatiana.’ A wide smile lit up the old woman’s face.
‘Well then,’ Liv said. ‘I’ll call you Tat!’
Byron mouthed a thank-you to her.
‘Aunty Tat is actually my grandmother,’ he said with a smile. ‘My father is her youngest son, he’ll be here later. But like I said, Aunty Tat is the name that she’s known by to everyone. After her children grew up and left home, she took a number of foster children into her home, and the name Aunty Tat stuck. Our extended family, foster kids and all, comprises about half the town’s population.’
Louise smiled at him. ‘You exaggerate, darling. Maybe it did once but the population has grown a bit in the past few years.’
‘It has.’ Byron leaned closer to his wife. ‘Lou, maybe you could take Aunty Tat inside and help her make Liv a cup of tea.’
‘We’ll make Lily a cup of tea, Byron.’ Aunty Tat’s voice was prim.
‘Of course. Lily.’ Byron helped his grandmother to her feet and she looked at Liv uncertainly.
‘Promise you won’t leave while I’m inside.’ Aunty Tat held out a hand to Liv, and she took it and squeezed it gently.
‘I promise. I’ll sit here and wait for you.’
Once they were out of earshot, Byron leaned forward in his chair. ‘Thanks so much for coming over. Like I said on the phone, she’s been really upset since she saw you the other day. Tell me, Liv, do you have any family connection to the Whitsundays?’
‘No, none at all. This is the first time I’ve been up here.’
‘What about the rest of your family?’ Byron asked.
‘No, we’re New South Wales stock. Why do you ask?’
‘There’s a photo I want to show you. The one that Aunty Tat thinks is you.’
‘And her sister has passed away?’
‘No. That is, I don’t know.’ Byron ran his hand over his short hair. ‘It’s a bit of a family mystery. No one knows what happened to her. Apparently, Liliana disappeared in the middle of World War Two. Some say she was taken by the Japanese—’
‘Was she in the army?’ Liv asked curiously when he paused.
‘Sorry. Let me explain from the beginning. The family lived out on Whitsunday Island, their father—my great-grandfather—was a fisherman and timber-getter. He was a beaut old bloke. I can remember him sitting here on a Sunday afternoon, whittling away at a piece of timber when I was a child. He used to come over across the Passage in his old diesel launch, even when he was in his eighties.’ Byron leaned back in his chair. ‘Anyway, apparently some Japanese soldiers had been spotted on the island about the time Liliana disappeared, and that was one of the explanations put forward at the time. Aunty Tat has often talked about her sister, but she’s never been upset like she has been this past couple of days.’ He gestured at Liv’s braid. ‘When you see the photo, you’ll see she had the same sort of hairstyle, and Aunty Tat says that it was the same red-gold colour that yours is.’ He shrugged. ‘Apart from that, there’s really no likeness, but she’s spoken of nothing else since she saw you. She’s been talking nonstop about when her sister disappeared and how they looked for her. She’s gone into great detail, things the family has never heard before.’
‘That’s so sad,’ Liv murmured.
‘It is. Most of it seems to be from her imagination. One day, she told Lou that the Japanese soldiers helped her brothers with their homework. Other thi
ngs she’s recalled could be true or part of the dementia’—he shrugged—‘who knows. She had a mild stroke a few months ago and was diagnosed with vascular dementia. The doctor said that often seems to bring the past back as though it’s the present. She’s recovered well physically, and although she’s occasionally called out to other women, she’s never obsessed like this before. I think you’ll understand why when you see Liliana’s hair style. Ever since Aunty Tat’s stroke, she’s been talking about her sister coming home. And then you came along and with the same hairstyle and colour, it’s all she can focus on.’
‘Poor thing.’ Liv shook her head. ‘I’d love to see the photo, but honestly, there’s no link at all to up here. My mother is an only child and my grandparents were original settlers out in central western New South Wales. My father’s family are from Europe.’
She looked up as the two women stepped down from the verandah. Louise was carrying a tray and Aunty Tat was walking behind her, holding a small pottery jug of milk. Byron stood and pulled over a small table, and Louise carefully laid the tray onto the table.
After the tea was poured, Aunty Tat again took her chair closest to Liv’s and sat quietly, a contented smile on her face.
‘I wonder where Fynn’s got to.’ Byron glanced at his watch as Liv put his tea cup back on the table.
‘Ah, he said you should call him when it’s time for me to go back,’ Liv said. ‘He said he had some things to do.’
Byron raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s unusual. He usually spends his Sundays here.’
A glimmer of guilt ran through Liv. ‘I think … I hope it’s not my fault. I think he might have been giving me a bit of space. I … er … commented how he seemed to be following me around.’
‘Don’t worry about that. If he said he had something to do—’
‘Fynn likes pretty girls, doesn’t he?’ Aunty Tat’s innocent voice piped up and heat stole into Liv’s cheeks. ‘I was pretty when I was young, wasn’t I, Lil?’
‘He does like pretty girls, Aunty.’ Byron drew Aunty Tat’s attention away from Liv and looked at his wife. ‘Did you get that photo, love?’
Louise nodded and reached into her pocket. She pulled out a small zip lock bag, opening it carefully, and Aunty Tat leaned forward and looked at the photograph through the plastic cover.
‘Oh, Lil, remember that day? It was taken at the Boxing Day picnic in 1941. Jack took it so Daddy could be in the photo for a change. We were all over there.’ She pointed to the headland at the eastern end of the beach. ‘The very last one with our footprints before you left.’ Her eyes clouded, and her voice rose, laced with a tinge of hysteria. ‘Why did you leave, Lily? Where did you go? Billy kept looking in his cave. We thought you were hiding from us but every time we looked you weren’t there. Poor Mama. She cried like we’d never heard her cry before.’
Liv’s eyes misted as the elderly woman’s distress escalated. She reached over and took her hand, and the words seemed to come to her without thinking. ‘It’s all right now, Tat. I’m back here with you now.’ Liv smoothed her fingers over the back of Aunty Tat’s wrinkled hand. ‘Don’t cry. It’s going to be all right.’
‘You won’t leave me again, Lil?’ Aunty Tat’s voice wobbled.
Liv looked to Byron for some backup. ‘I think maybe she’ll come and visit you again soon,’ he said.
Liv nodded but she couldn’t bring herself to put the promise into words. This was a problem that the family was going to have to sort out. It was sad, and she knew it was going to be difficult for them when she left, but it wasn’t her problem to solve. It was too hard to make promises she couldn’t keep. She leaned across and held her hand out. ‘May I see the photo?’
Louise passed it over and Liv slipped it out of the plastic covering. It was an old photograph in faded sepia tones. One corner was slightly torn but it was easy to see the group of people in the middle of the photograph. It was a family standing on a beach.
‘That’s my great-grandfather, Boyd Ellis,’ Byron said.
‘And that’s me, beside you, Lily.’
Liv stared at the photo, conscious of everyone watching her. It was faded and cracked, as though it had been held many times. The young girl standing at the right of the group had a long fair braid like Liv’s, but other than that, there was little resemblance.
Sympathy flooded through her. How sad that the young girl had disappeared. It seemed so much more real, looking at a photo rather than just hearing the story.
Aunty Tat beamed at her. ‘That was the day we met all the boys. Remember?’
CHAPTER
7
December 10, 1941
Don’t they know there’s a war on?
‘This is so ridiculous,’ Liliana Anastasia Ellis muttered under her breath as she walked slowly along Brisbane’s Queen Street behind her partners-in-crime. Her cross mood was at odds with the happy, noisy Saturday night crowds surging around them. Soldiers in uniform and women in brightly coloured dresses, their belts cinched in so tight, Liliana wondered how they could possibly breathe, spilled from the hotels and clubs. Their laughter was loud and raucous, and the atmosphere was party-like. Most of the men were drinking beer from bottles, and several had a woman on each arm.
Disgust curled in Liliana’s stomach. Ever since she’d stopped at the newsstand on the corner of Queen and Wharf Street and read the front page of today’s Courier Mail, her worry about sneaking out of the boarding school dormitory had paled into insignificance. Two days ago, Mother Vincent Reilly, the principal of All Hallows’ Convent, had called a special assembly. The hall had been quiet as she’d told the students about the attack on Pearl Harbor and the entry of the United States into the war. There had been quiet jubilation in her voice as she told the girls the war would end quickly now. Liliana knew the war news was filtered by the school to protect the girls. Now, the front page of the Courier Mail confirmed her worst fears.
‘The decision to call up an additional big quota of men for home defence is believed to provide the best possible safeguard against an invasion attempt.’
Invasion? Prime Minister Curtin seemed to be concerned, so what was wrong with these people? Why was there such a celebratory atmosphere in the city tonight?
The late news item on the top left of the front page had increased her agitation. The bold heading announced: US given warning of attack, and reported that a map recently discovered in purloined Japanese naval documents had correctly foretold last week’s attack on Pearl Harbor. Liliana’s blood ran cold as she read the rest of the paragraph. Attacks spreading in a wide arc to the east coast of Australia were planned. Her home, her parents and her siblings were in the north, so close to the action in the Pacific Ocean.
‘Come on, Lil. Stop dragging your feet,’ Peggy Armitage called back to her as she forged ahead through the crowd. ‘We’re almost there.’
Peggy and the other three girls from All Hallows’ Convent stopped outside a large, brightly lit café as Liliana caught up to them. It was the first time she’d truanted from the boarding school in Ann Street, not far from the hubbub of the city. The girls’ excursions after lights out had become more frequent as the soldiers came to town, but Liliana preferred to stay in, not because she was nervous about being caught by the nuns, but she preferred to study and prepare for her final examinations. The glamorous enticement of soldiers in uniform held no appeal for her. Now that the exams were over, and the girls were counting down the days until the end of term and they could escape the eagle eyes of the nuns forever, Liliana had agreed to come out with them, anxious to find a newspaper.
She looked up at the sign over the door of the building. The large red block letters of the Red Cross Café were outlined in white. In the corner of the window was a small sign stating, ‘volunteers always wanted’.
‘Do you all want to come in with me, or do you want to wait outside?’ Peggy smoothed down the plain navy-blue skirt and adjusted her white blouse.
‘What for?’ Amelia,
usually as outgoing as Peggy, had been quiet tonight.
‘I’m volunteering,’ Peggy said.
‘But you can’t. You’re going home at the end of the week,’ Amelia said with a frown. ‘We’re booked on the Western Mail to Charleville on Friday morning.’
‘I’m not going. I’m staying in Brisbane.’ Peggy folded her arms. ‘I’m going to cash in my train ticket.’
‘Oh my gosh, and your parents agreed to this?’ Amelia’s eyes were wide.
‘I haven’t told them yet.’ Peggy’s smile held a slyness that Liliana had often noticed over the past four years.
Peggy pushed the door open and went inside. Liliana walked to the low brick wall at the side of the café and sat down to wait. A dark laneway led down to the river and muted voices reached them, interspersed with the occasional giggle.
‘We’re going across to the hotel. You two coming?’ Anne and Claudia stood at the edge of the street waiting for a break in the traffic.
‘No, I’ll wait here for Peggy.’ Liliana had her newspaper and she was ready to go back to the convent. Her mood was bleak, and there were another six days and nights to endure before she left for home.
‘I’ll wait with Lily,’ Amelia said.
They sat there quietly, Liliana lost in her thoughts about the possibility of invasion in the north, Amelia unusually quiet beside her.
‘Like to keep a couple of lonely soldiers company, ladies?’ The slurred voice was accompanied by beery breath and Liliana leaned back away from the man whose face was too close to hers. ‘Nice walk down the lane here.’
‘No! Sod off!’
Amelia’s fierce words were out before Liliana could come up with a suitably scathing reply. She lifted her chin and stared them down, her voice cold and haughty. ‘My friend put it quite succinctly.’
‘Oh, la de da. We’ve got a posh pair here.’ A horn blared as the two men lurched away into the Queen Street traffic. ‘Your loss, sweethearts.’ It wasn’t long before they found a couple of women on the other side of the street who were willing to talk to them.