Wandering Girl

by Glenyse Ward

  Further down the track was a big clearing of land, where we used to pick wildflowers, smoke-bush, kangaroo paws. We’d come out of the clearing with the paddocks around us, and the bush left behind.

  Now the car passed the dams we swam in. Brother chuckled, “Remember those dams, Billy Boy?” We both laughed to think of those earlier days.

  “This is it, Billy Boy, home.” It was about five and still pretty light as the buildings came into view. My heart was pounding as we passed the old working shed down the hill, and the fields where we picked puddings. They were a type of grass with a long stem and a little bundle of seeds on top, which we used to eat. They were lovely.

  Then we made our run up the straight road to the mission itself. Brother stopped outside the girls’ dormitory - there were kids running in all directions as they crowded around, pushing and shoving. I was shy when I saw their snotty noses all pressed up to the window and their cheesey grins. I put my hand out the window to grab their hands, till the door opened up and made us let go. Just as well, as I felt like my arms were being yanked off.

  There were still a lot of familiar faces in the crowd. I said hello to Father and some of the nuns. I was so glad to see them. Sister Headmaris, who had scolded me often in the kitchen, came over and shook my hand. The tears were welling up in my eyes. She said, “How are you, Glenyse, it’s good to see you again,” and I noticed that her eyes were glistening too.

  Father came over and gave me a pat on the shoulder. I nearly keeled over. “Come, Glenyse, you must be hungry,” said Sister Headmaris. And with kids all around, tugging at me, digging me in the ribs and running away, I followed sister over to the dining room. Then I knew I was home.

  It was so good to see them again, but my closest mates, the ones I went to school with, were all gone. They were making lives for themselves somewhere out in the world.

  I stayed for three weeks. They didn’t want me to work, but I found something to do, helping in the kitchen. It was different now that I’d been out working and come back. I enjoyed being with Sister Headmaris, she was so pleased with me and proud of me, as if I was her own daughter.

  It broke my heart to have to say goodbye again, because somehow I knew there was no returning for me.

  As it turned out, I didn’t go back by train after all. Instead a couple of young teachers from the mission gave me a lift, since they were going through to Bunbury. I just sat in their car and cried all the way. They couldn’t understand why I was so unhappy, and I couldn’t tell them. I was real winyarn at going back.

  PREPARED

  When I arrived at Ridgeway, she was waiting by the bus stop to pick me up. I went back to playing a dummy’s life again.

  I found it hard within myself to get used to the place again, after being surrounded by so many friends. My heart wasn’t in my work. The only thing that kept my spirits up was the chance to meet Horsey, who I couldn’t wait to see on that following Friday, to tell her all the news from home.

  The journey into town was the same as usual but to break the monotony, I commented to the boss about the scenery - how beautiful and fresh everything looked, the wildflowers growing on the sides of the road and the hills. She made no reply but I did notice that she looked up.

  We stopped at our usual meeting place, at an old school bus stop, and my friend was standing nearby, with her boss.’ They exchanged a few words then told us we had an hour to do our business. We were to meet them back here at the cars.

  Our employers trotted off. Me and Horsey linked arms and headed for the milkbar, laughing and talking. I was so glad when I saw my mate. I told her that I had gone home. She was feeling like me, real homesick.

  Although she hadn’t been at the job as long as I, she was beginning to resent the place and the people she worked for. Our feelings were mutual. I told her how my holiday went and who was still there, what Sisters and Brothers were still there, and that I didn’t want to leave to come back here again. We agreed that we couldn’t stand it any more.

  Our friend, the owner of the shop, was happy to see me again and said she had missed me on those two Fridays I was due into town. When I told her I’d been back home to see all my mates, she said, “That’s nice for you. I’ll bet Mrs Bigelow missed you though.” I said that she must have, as I had double the workload since getting back.

  Horsey and I looked out of her shop window and asked, “How come all these coloured lights and paper were hanging off the posts in the street?” There seemed to be a lot more people everywhere. She was surprised. “Didn’t your bosses tell you girls? There’s a fair here on Saturday.”

  We asked her what a fair was, as our minds were vague on that. “It’s like a fun day, where people who make cakes and jams have stalls to sell them and get prizes for the best. Plenty of merry-go-rounds and you can win prizes too on the chocolate wheel. People travel from as far away as Busselton and Bunbury to come here with their families. It’s a family day, you can have lots of fun.”

  Horsey just said, “Oh - I wonder if we’ll be going.” I grabbed my mate by the arm and pulled her towards a table. “Come on, me and you sit here and have this drink. Don’t think about the fair. We’ll be working flat out.”

  As we sat there looking at one another, a thought struck me and I asked Anne if her boss made jam, like my boss. “Yeah,” she said, “why are you asking?” “Well, they might take us to help carry their stuff.”

  “Oh don’t talk silly,” she grumbled, but I was hard to convince. I jumped up and grabbed her by the arm again. “Let’s go!” Horsey Anne had a shocked look on her face, wondering what I was up to. I called out to our friend behind the counter, “See you later.” She seemed astonished, “Oh, you’re off already, girls?” I yelled, “Yes - we’ve got business to do!”

  As we went out the door I pushed Anne along, telling her to walk fast to the bank. I never answered her curious questions. At the bank I asked her, “You got your bank book with you?” It was in her handbag. I pushed her, still wondering, inside and up to the counter.

  A man with a real business look about him asked if he could help us and I eagerly told him. “Yes, we would like to get some money out, we’re going to the fair.” My friend gave me a dig in the ribs. The man looked at us sternly and asked in his deep voice, “How much?”

  “How much have I got?” I replied, as I had no idea. He looked in our books and said I had fifty pounds and Anne forty. So I asked for forty and Horsey asked for twenty. As he went away to get our money, and people walked up and down, my friend whispered to me that we’d get into trouble for running away. I giggled and hit her on the back. “As long as our bosses make jam and cakes we’ll be going, can’t you see? They’ll need us to help them. You know yourself they won’t carry their own stuff.”

  She sort of laughed and blurted, “Choo — but if we don’t go, what about this money?” I reckoned we could hang on to it and spend it next shopping day. We were so busy whispering and laughing, when a deep voice brought us to attention, “Would you like to come and get your passbooks and cash?”

  We stuffed it in our bags and as we went out the doors I said to Horsey, “At least we are prepared, we’ve got money. You and I could have a ride on the merry-go-round!” We went along laughing and getting excited.

  While we sat on the bus stop waiting for our bosses, I told her not to give any signs away that we knew about the fair. “We’ll just carry on in our normal way and do our jobs. We’ll say prayers tonight. God will help us.”

  When the bosses turned up, I tugged at Horsey’s dress and she gave me a nudge in the back, then we went to our cars and drove our separate ways back to the farms.

  I crept into bed that night after my jobs feeling a little downhearted, as she had never mentioned the fair.

  BAALAY!

  Next morning, when I came into the kitchen with a couple of oranges to squeeze for her, I had completely forgotten about the fair. She was already up and turned to me straight away. “Oh, there you are. Look, hurry u
p with my juice, as we’ve got a very busy day. Get my bottles of jam out of the pantry and give them a wipe over. Be careful that you don’t rub the labels off!”

  “Then pack them very neatly in my cane basket, on the bench over here. I am entering them in the Ridgeway Fair and you are coming with me, to help carry things. We will leave after breakfast. Hurry up, because I have to be there before Mr Bigelow opens the fair.”

  Without showing any emotion, I went about my jobs in my usual casual way. When I got to my room, I shut the door behind me quietly. Then I jumped for joy. I chucked my work clothes up in the air and started humming and singing, as I set about getting dressed.

  Taking care I looked nice for the fair, I put on a pleated white skirt, a blue blouse, faded white pair of shoes and a pink hair band around my head, instead of a scarf. Then I knelt down beside my bed to say thanks to God for letting me go to the fair.

  I left my room like a whirlwind swept through it. She was already waiting in the car and told me to hurry up and run to the kitchen and get the basket of jams. She told me to sit with it beside me in the car and hang on to it.

  At the fairground there were cars and people everywhere. I wondered if my mate was here. I followed my boss with the basket of jams like a lost lamb, still wondering if my mate was coming. Kids were running everywhere, music belting out all over the ground, swings were set up and coloured lights were flashing on the merry-go-round.

  When we reached the judging stall, all I could hear was, “Hello Tracey, it’s good to see you again. You could ask your dark servant to place the jars up on the shelf. Wish you luck.” While they were all jabbering I got busy setting the jars up and thought to myself, “All these women are a bunch of chooks.” Then a voice piped up amongst the jabbering, “Oh, here comes Prue Follington.”

  I whirled around and saw Mrs Follington with Horsey beside her, carrying a basket. I suddenly felt happy putting the jars up. They could joke about Mrs Follington getting her dark servant to put her jams up next to Mrs Bigelow’s. I stood and waited for Horsey to do it, while in the meantime our two bosses got talking.

  They both turned to us - we could walk around but must report back to them at dinner time, because they were leaving then to go back to their farms. We never wasted any time.

  We had rides on the merry-go-round, ate our fill of fairy-floss, tried our luck on the chocolate wheel, bought ourselves some pies and drinks and found a table and bench under a tree. While we were sitting there joking and eating, and laughing if anyone comical walked past us, we noticed another Aboriginal girl with four white kids, just walking around and looking at the game stands.

  I said to Horsey, “Hey, who’s that Nyoongah girl over there?” Anne didn’t know her and we decided to wait till she came a bit closer. We both sat there straining our eyes, until she took hold of one of the kids arms and walked our way. “Look out, she’s coming our way,” I said to Horsey, “Baalay, make out we never seen her.”

  So we both turned our heads and made out we had never seen her. Next minute we heard this voice, “Hello, you two.” We looked surprised. Then she said, ‘You’re not Sprattie and Horsey?” We smiled and said, “Yes,” trying to focus this face in front of us.

  She said, “Don’t you know me from the mission? I’m Rae Miller.” Of course we knew her. We all hugged one another, so very glad to meet up after years. How could we have missed that big forehead - we used to joke about the way it stuck out - and her plump body. We were old mission buddies. Excited, we talked and laughed. She told us she worked in Donnybrook and asked us what were we doing here?

  We told her all about the people we worked for, how we hated being treated that way. She was sorry to hear it. We felt strange listening to her tell us how the white people she worked for made her one of the family. She ate with them, played with the kids, went to the pictures with them. I didn’t know what to say. I changed the subject and asked her if she knew where different girls we grew up with had gone. Like us, she never heard.

  Then she went on to say that on her holidays with the people she worked for, at a beautiful place called Dunsborough, near the beach, she did bump into one of the girls who used to be there with us in the mission. And her name was Kaylene. Kaylene - who had married the schoolteacher!

  We were so glad to hear that news, me especially. I was always close to this girl in the mission and always wondered what had happened to her. Rae had her address and suggested I write to her. Maybe instead of going to Wandering Brook for holidays again, I could go there.

  Holidays were a long way off. We kept on talking, when we suddenly realised it was twelve. We told Rae we hated to leave her but we must get back to our bosses, as we were returning to our farms to work that afternoon.

  Before we departed, I reached for Rae’s hands and she grabbed mine. I said, “See you in Dunsborough, mate.” Then we walked back to our cars, me and Horsey. We had the same thoughts of how lucky Rae was, and wished our bosses were like that.

  Before I went to sleep that night back at the Bigelow farm, I sat down and wrote my letter to Kaylene in Dunsborough.

  SHEARER’S LUNCH

  So I settled back into the routine of the year at the farm, waiting for a letter from Kaylene.

  Shearing was on and it was the middle of the week. That used to be a busy time for everyone. I had to help make morning tea and lunches for the shearers. When it was time for either morning tea or lunch, Robert, her youngest son, used to come up to the house to collect the food in a basket.

  From the top of the hill, where the house stood, you could view the goings-on, and hear the shouting of men and the machines and baaing of lambs and ewes. The shearing sheds were about half a mile from the house.

  It was a quarter to twelve and I was busy in the kitchen, putting the last lot of sandwiches in the basket, which was laden high with food. I didn’t know exactly how many blokes there were but I did overhear Robert tell his mother the other day that there were about ten men - it looked like she was going to feed an army.

  The phone rang while I was cleaning up and I heard her walk into the dining room and take the receiver off the hook. She spoke for about twenty minutes, then came into the kitchen to tell me that I was to take the lunches to the men, as they were very busy and Robert couldn’t come to pick the basket up. One of the shearers was sick and couldn’t make it in to work.

  She said, “Drop what you’re doing, take the flask of tea and the basket of sandwiches.” So I grabbed it and away I went with my heavy load, humming as I went along, glad of the break - I was out of the house.

  When I got outside I thought, “Instead of walking right around the road. I’ll take a short cut.” I walked straight down the hill and over to the creek, which had this makeshift bridge going across it.

  There were ropes on both sides and boards going straight down the middle. Water was still flowing strongly under it. When I reached the bridge I put the basket and flask down and sat on the grass to rest my body, as it was aching through the strain of carrying that load of food.

  When I felt better, I picked up the flask and sandwiches. I was in good spirits as I tiptoed on to the bridge, which was very wobbly. With one hand up clinging to the rope, I stooped down low and sort of dragged the basket to the middle. Next minute, without warning, I found myself on my backside in the water, and the sandwiches floating beside me.

  I got such a shock when I felt how cold the water was, I screamed, sprang up and ran towards to the house. When I finally reached it, I banged right into Mrs Bigelow. She was out in the garden looking at her flowers. My heart sank. I think she got more of a shock than I, when she saw the sad state of affairs I was in.

  Before she could scold me, I began gibbering, as I couldn’t control the knocking of my teeth, when suddenly her son Robert pulled up in the car and handed his mum the wet basket and cracked thermos. He’d found them floating down the creek when he took his dog to round up a stray sheep, and must have figured out what happened to their dinner.r />
  She turned to me in front of her son. ‘You clumsy, stupid girl. Can’t you do anything right? You’ve upset the whole shearing team now. All work has stopped because the men refuse to start again till they have something to eat. I just can’t trust you to do anything - that bridge was made for ducks!”

  “You had to come along and wreck it. I ought to make you go down and mend it. Now get inside and get yourself cleaned up and report back to me in the kitchen when you hear me come back from the shearing shed. By that time you should be looking respectable.”

  I noticed the sheepish grin on her son’s face as he glanced at me, before following his mother back into the kitchen. I felt shame as I slipped into my room and shut the door.

  END OF THE ROAD

  One sunny morning in mid-December I wandered down to the orchard to have a yam to my old mate Bill and ask him up for a cup of tea and some cake.

  I hadn’t seen him for a few days as Mrs Bigelow had the flu and I was kept in the house to tend to her needs. I never had the chance to go down there for some friendly company. Now that she was better and gone into town, I was left alone as usual.

  I got to the gate, cupped my hands and yelled in my loudest voice, “Bill, I’m here, where are you?” I heard his call come back very faint, from somewhere down towards the river. As I walked in that direction, I spotted his bent figure, raking up around the apricot trees.

  When I reached him I noticed how pale and weak he was looking, he just didn’t seem to be his normal happy self as he leaned his old frame up against an apricot tree.

  He said, “Hi lassie - where you been these last couple of days?” I was so busy jabbering away to him, glad of the fact I was out of the house, then I sort of glanced at him and the look on his old face stopped me. It made me feel he wanted to tell me something.