by Glenyse Ward
He scratched his old head and said, “By gosh, some people have got it easy!” I didn’t understand what he meant by that, then he said, “Let’s go on up to the house and have a cup of tea. I fancy a bit of fruit cake too,” and he gave a chuckle.
The fortnight went by quickly, and then came the day I was meeting my friend from back home. I was so anxious to find out who she was, I took extra care in getting ready for town. I put on one of my Sunday best dresses, a beautiful pink one which reached down to my ankles; stockings, corset, my one and only best pair of sandals and a bright green scarf, which I carefully tied around my head. I got my old purse and stuffed it down my bra.
With a feeling of importance, I walked out of my room and down the driveway to where Mrs Bigelow had the car parked.
When she came out, I was standing proudly beside it. She sort of brushed past and remarked to me she’d let me know when there was a circus in town as maybe they’d have an act in the show for me. She told me to open up my door and get in. Then she started up the car and away we went into town.
I had butterflies all the way. When we got to the bus-stop, I saw them standing there. Soon as she stopped the car, I started giggling, with my hands over my mouth. It was Anne! We used to fight like cats and dogs all the time at the mission. She called me Sprattie and I called her Horsey.
I climbed out and we both stood waiting by our cars until our employers finished talking. Then they turned to us and told us they would pick us up here in about an hour’s time. They strutted off down the street like a pair of chooks on their high heels.
We both laughed out loud then said, “Hello.” We were so glad to see one another, we became the best of mates. I asked her how everyone was?
She said, “Good!” The nuns were O.K., and a few girls had received my letters; but the priest had read them and he didn’t like what I wrote. I never received any answer.
I was feeling too happy to be upset about the priest in the mission. I told her to come and meet my friend at the comer shop and I’d buy an ice-cream for her.
We both linked arms and made our way down to the shop, laughing and giggling about old times at Wandering.
When we reached the shop, I pushed Horsey up to the counter to introduce her to my friend. She said, “Hello dear, I bet you’re glad you met up with a mate?”
I told my friend at the shop, “Anne grew up with me in the mission - we were in the same class.”
She grabbed Horsey’s hand and said that it was very nice to meet her, then told us to sit down and make ourselves at home.
I ordered two milkshakes, two chocolates and some lollies and biscuits for us. As we sat and drank our milkshakes, Anne said that the lady in the shop was different from the one she worked for.
She asked me how the missus I was working for treated me? I told her it was a beautiful place; but that the people were funny. They didn’t talk to me at all, and all I seemed to be doing was working, and when I did try to talk to her, she didn’t answer, or even look at me.
Then she asked me did I get wild?
I said I couldn’t get wild, because they were white people and our bosses. What could we do? Nothing! I even had to clean her daughter Janet’s house.
Anne asked me if the daughter was pretty? I looked at her in surprise and said she was a pretty kid. We both had a good laugh.
I explained to her about sleeping in the garage, and we compared different things, the places we slept and ate and washed in - even our toilet rooms. My mate told me she had to walk a mile past the horse stables to reach her’s. We both saw the funny side and killed ourselves laughing. I told her about the phone incident, and she cracked up again.
All too soon it was time to go back to the bus stop to wait for our bosses to pick us up and take us back to their farms. We both said we’d see one another again in the next fortnight.
GOING HOME
Two months before Christmas Mrs Bigelow again came to me while I was out working one morning, in the garden. This particular day was a Tuesday. She caught me unawares. She didn’t tell me she had anything important to say, she just stood there and came out with it, as I was tidying the lawn. I could go home to the mission for two weeks holiday. Starting the very next day.
I nearly buckled at the knees, I didn’t know what to do or say to her. She went on, “Have your things packed tonight and I will drive you into the bus-stop, where you can catch the bus which will take you to Bunbury. Then you can catch a train to Armadale and the priest will be there to pick you up and drive you on to the mission.”
And off she strutted back into the house, leaving me standing there dumbfounded at the suddenness of it. My feelings were mixed. Shocked and dazed, I finished my weeding and sneaked into my bedroom, out in the old garage.
There I sat on my bed to let the good news of going home sink into my head. I dragged my case out from under the bed, got my towel and with a quick striking action dusted it off. I began to be so overwhelmed with joy at going home that I cried as I started packing my case. The tears of relief were dropping on to all my clothes, but I couldn’t care less, nothing mattered now.
In this way I was so engrossed in my packing that I never heard my bedroom door open. I nearly dropped the case back on the floor as she startled me out of my wits.
“How dare you come in here and start packing your clothes! Just because I said you could go home for holidays doesn’t mean you have to stop work.” I didn’t know what to say.
“I want all your jobs finished for the day. I told you to pack your case tonight, which will be after nine by the way you are going. Now drop what you are doing and get out of here and do your work. Otherwise you won’t be going at all. I shall ring up the priest and cancel your ticket.”
“By the way, can’t you clean this room up? It smells horrible. It looks like a rubbish dump. Cobwebs on the wall, dirty windows... and clear this dust away...” She slammed the door as she went, and I rushed to the toilet for refuge.
For the rest of the day I tried not to be upset by her sudden outburst. I kept thinking of the mission I would soon see, the nuns, and my mates and that got me through, until late that night I just about fell into my room and faced the packing. I just gathered all my stuff up and chucked everything in the case.
I thought I was tired, yet I sat up on my bed for most of the night. The excitement was growing deeper. I fell into a restless sleep.
When daylight came I took my big brown suitcase and carried it into the kitchen and laid it on the floor. So pleased to have everything packed, I thought I’d have my breakfast early. So I was having a feed of weeties, when she stubbed her foot on my case.
She was furious. “What’s this thing doing here right in front of my dining room door. I nearly broke my leg.” I jumped up and apologized. “Take that case right outside this very minute, and then you can set about getting my breakfast ready. All your jobs have to be done before we can leave for town.” So I hurried to finish my weeties.
I set about the work, mumbling at her under my breath. I was feeling real glad that I was leaving her, at least for a while. When it was time to go to the bus-stop, she had the car ready in the driveway. I went to my room to pick up my scarf, and shut the door on the cobwebs and dust. I put my old brown case in the boot, took my place in the back seat of her car and then we were away.
When we arrived at the station there were people everywhere and a big green and pale yellow bus was already waiting. I didn’t know anything about getting on buses, as this was the first time I’d ever caught one.
Without looking at me, she passed me her keys to open the boot. When I had taken my case out Mrs Bigelow told me flatly to go up to the man in the office - he would help me. With that she left me standing there and drove off.
Nervously, I walked up to the bus and stood there. I put the scarf on my head, although it was not cold or windy. I found myself brushing the pleats of my long skirt - it reached my ankles - and straightened my white blouse. I noticed the green
embroidery around the edges, looked at my yellow shoes, which had seen better days. And just as I picked my case up to carry it aboard the bus, I was tapped on the shoulder.
I turned to see a gentleman in uniform grey trousers and a neat shirt and tie. “Where are you going to, madam?” he asked me, businesslike but friendly. I was so excited I told him, “Home to Wandering Mission!”
People on the bus were having a good gander at me. I looked up to the windows, smiled at them and got a few smiles back. The man in the uniform asked me if I had a ticket. All I could tell him was that I had a case and needed some help on the bus with it. He asked if I had some money? When I told him yes, he said, “Well give me your case. I’ll take it and put it in the storage compartment at the back of the bus. You go and sit down and when you hear a feller asking if everyone has their tickets, you tell him you haven’t got one.”
I thanked him and climbed on the bus to join all those curious people, and sat down beside this old lady, who nodded to me as I said, “Hello,” still feeling nervous. I was just relaxing when the bus started up.
Another gentleman in uniform came down the aisle with a punch in his hand, calling out for tickets. I jumped up and said, “I haven’t got one, sir.” I heard giggles everywhere as the man came over to me, offering a little piece of paper. I took the ticket from him and sat back. He just stood there next to me in the aisle, waiting.
The old lady beside me leaned over and whispered, “You have to pay five pounds, dear.” I quickly fumbled in my old brown bag, which had no zip pocket. All my money was lying loosely at the bottom. I raked amongst the lollies and hairclips and other odds and ends and finally pulled out a five pound note. I gave that to the uniformed man, who turned out to be the driver. He went away down the aisle scratching his head. The people were all staring at me again, so I gave them another smile!
I sat back in my seat as the bus drove out of the station. The little old lady asked if I wanted a magazine to read. I said thanks and took it from her but I did not really want to read and just skipped through the pages - I felt tired suddenly and handed it back. She said, ‘You’re going home, hey?”
I told her all about myself - where I worked, where I came from, what I did. I noticed the passengers glancing my way. Her voice croaked, “I’ll bet you can’t wait to see your friends. I giggled and wriggled on the seat, looked out the window and wished that the bus would hurry up. She said it wouldn’t be long now. She was going to Perth to visit relations.
The bus stopped in different towns all the way along and picked up passengers and I dozed off to sleep. I woke with the old lady tugging at my sleeve. The bus was in Bunbury. I sat up, rubbed my eyes and heard the bus conductor telling us to collect our cases, go into the front office and fix up our tickets to board the train for Perth. We had an hour in Bunbury for lunch.
The town was huge compared to Ridgeway, bigger shops, more people and cars going everywhere. Although I was hungry, I was too scared to cross the street. I felt safer where I was standing.
The old lady from the bus hobbled up to me and asked if I knew where to go? I told her that I didn’t know where to go or what to do. She took me by the hand and told me not to be scared, she’d look after me. She shuffled along beside me to the office and they stamped my ticket for Armadale, where Father would pick me up.
I started to feel pleased and proud, and to have butterflies, knowing that in a couple of hours’ time I’d be home again. The man told us everything would be fixed up about our cases, the lady took my ticket from him and passed it to me. I was so pleased that this old lady bothered to help at all.
She asked if I was hungry - I was starving. We went to the station cafe, where there were people lined up in a queue waiting for service. She told me to go and sit down and wait till she came with refreshments. The cafe was packed and I pushed my way past people to an empty table.
As I sat there waiting for my elderly friend, I felt strange somehow. It just didn’t seem right, me sitting there with all these people and this white lady helping me. Being stuck with Mrs Bigelow for so long I just wasn’t used to it. Here it felt so different, people happy, watching one another eat.
Then the little lady turned up with a woman in a white apron, carrying teacups and two rounds of sandwiches. I was told not to be shy, as she passed me a cup and saucer. I ate and left the crumbs without bothering to tidy up, as I would have at Mrs Bigelow’s kitchen table. “You must have been hungry,” the old lady said. Half a sandwich had satisfied her.
The waitress in a white apron collected our dishes and put a slip of paper in front of us. My friend explained that I had to pay five shillings. So I fumbled in my bag once again and handed the money over.
On the platform people were pushing and shoving. I hung on to my friend, scared I might lose her in the crowd. We boarded the train and walked up and down like lost sheep until we found our compartment. I discovered you had your own seat numbered on the ticket and couldn’t just sit anywhere.
We settled down and I thanked my friend for being so kind - I felt like crying but she told me not to worry. She rested her hand gently on mine. I must have looked real lost and in need of someone. After all, I was only a kid.
When she took her hand off mine, I could feel a big lump forming In my throat and put my head down. I was choked with emotion and mixed feelings. I thought, why can’t old Bigelow be kind and helpful? And I shuddered at the thought of going back to her.
The old lady asked me if I was alright? “Yes,” I lied. All round us the passengers were seated in the compartment, the train engine started with a roar and a whistle. I nearly jumped out of my seat, as this was my first experience of trains. My friend kept reassuring me but I still found it scary. She said if I felt nervous it would help if I went to sleep.
So I put my head back and dozed, still shaky. Time must have passed because I was startled out of a nap as the train whistled and roared into a small station. The little old lady leaned over to me. “This is your stop.” She clasped my hand in hers. We were at Armadale.
She wished me luck. I started to tremble and felt weak at the knees as I glanced out the window. I saw Brother Leonard and my tears started to fall uncontrollably.
BILLY BOY
As I walked behind the people to get out of the carriage, I wiped my face on the inside of my skirt. Then Brother came over to me and gave me a hug. I took my scarf off, put my head down and scraped the dirt with my foot. His arm still over my shoulder, he said, “How are you, Billy Boy?” That was one of my nicknames in the mission.
Still feeling shy but relieved that my journey was over and seeing Brother Leonard again, I couldn’t have been more happy. I knew I’d soon be home. As kids we used to think Brother Leonard funny, with a round face and short build, a big belly and braces to hold his pants up.
He also smoked a big pipe and when he used to play games with us, like kicking a ball round the field, he looked so funny running around that we rolled over laughing.
Brother turned to me and said, “Come on Billy Boy, we’ll go and get your case. So I followed him to the luggage place and then walked over to the utility he had parked a short distance from the station.
Brother opened up the front door of the ute and as I sat in it, I glanced back at the station. I had a sickly feeling inside me, knowing that the same train would be taking me back.
As we drove away Brother Leonard asked me how I was getting on. Did I miss them at the mission? “Yes!” I replied. “And how are the people you work for?” “Alright,” I said.
In those days, not so long ago either, we were not allowed to say anything against our white bosses. So I hid my feelings and told him they were good and I liked it there, just to please him. If only he had known how I felt.
Then as we got going further down the track, Brother filled me in on all the news. The head priest had bought a brand new bus to take the kids out to different towns for school sports and outings. He’d done away with the old cattle truck we once
travelled in. He’d also purchased a couple of new cars and this was one of them.
Some of the girls who’d been little in my time were still there, as working girls. Others had returned to their families as their Mums and Dads found out where they had gone to and came to take them back to their real homes. I knew my own Dad wasn’t alive, but I still wondered how my mother must be doing, up there in Geraldton. I had learnt that she lived in Geraldton. She once came down to Wandering and tried to visit but I had not been allowed to see her.
“Of course, you know Anne left to work near where you are staying,” he sounded pleased. I said, “Yes, I was glad to see her in town, she gave me all the news about the old place.” Brother asked me how she was coping. I told him, “Good,” and that the people drove us in from our farms on a Friday afternoon to meet one another in town. He thought that was very generous of them.
I relaxed as Brother drove on and we yarned about the good old days. Soon we were at the mission turn-off, which was marked by a sign saying, “To St Francis Xavier Native Mission, Wandering Brook.” Brother slapped his hand on my knee and I jumped in fright. “Billy Boy,” he said, “we’ll be home soon.” I wriggled around a bit to look out my window, feeling that lump again in my throat.
How could I have forgotten these familiar places, where as a child I roamed right through the bush? I noticed all our landmarks were still there, and I thought they would never change. We passed a big crucifix out in the bush. I think one of the brothers built that statue, which was about five miles from the mission. It stood there for years.
We used to walk to that crucifix, and it had seemed so far. When we reached it we used to climb up and sit down on the side of it, as the cross was mounted on this wide, round stand, which gave us a lot of room to rest on. We got our breath back there and then we’d go on to a certain clump of gum trees, as the crucifix used to be a sign for our gum trees - a step on the way there.