‘They were such naughty boys,’ she said indulgently. ‘Mick especially, and he’d drag Frank into trouble along with him. Playing pranks and always trying to get into the pubs and drink with the men. They were big for their age and often weren’t found out. But Constable McInerney knew them and he would haul them out by the ears. “You Dillon boys,” he’d yell, “Out ye go. And be quick about it or I’ll tell yer dad.”’
‘And then he’d sit down and finish their beers,’ I put in.
After dinner, Evie went for a much-needed bath and Johnny sat patiently through all the photographs of my cousins and the grandchildren. And of me, I was horrified to realise.
‘Now, this is my favourite,’ he said. I came over to see him pointing to a photograph of me at thirteen, with long plaits and a serious demeanour, dressed in a shapeless brown tunic over a white shirt and floppy tie, my skinny legs encased in black stockings. I looked gawky and ill at ease.
‘That was my first day at high school.’ I kept my voice level. All I really wanted to do was tear it out of his hands. I had worked so hard to reinvent myself as a sophisticated woman of fashion and this photograph brought back memories that were surprisingly painful.
‘Nellie won a scholarship to Perth Modern School,’ said Aunty May. ‘Only the best students in the state go there. It’s not a Catholic school, and I was in two minds about allowing her to go, but Pat insisted. He was as proud as punch of Nellie.’
She wiped away a tear. ‘Wouldn’t hear of her leaving school at fourteen like all her cousins and most of our neighbours’ children. He said that Nellie was smart enough to make something special of herself.’
In my aunt’s opinion, all a woman needed to fit herself for was marriage, children and homemaking. It was a view shared by the people in our neighbourhood. Why should a girl want to go on at school? It made no sense. A boy, yes – he could get a career in the bank or post office or the public service – but a girl?
What was most annoying, though, was that the neighbours now thought they had been proven right. I was twenty-four and not married nor even engaged. I was proof positive that too much education was a Bad Idea for girls. Aunty May comforted herself with remembering my mother, who didn’t marry until she was in her thirties, but I knew that she had to defend my single status up and down the street.
‘It was worth it in the end, though.’ Aunty May was still talking. ‘Because Pat was fit to burst with pride when she matriculated and was offered a place at the university. No Dillon had ever been to university before. No one in my family either.’
I broke in, worried that Johnny would think I had been a terrible drain on the family’s funds. ‘Did you know that the University of Western Australia is completely free? The man who endowed it, Sir John Winthrop Hackett, insisted that it not charge fees.’
Johnny murmured his surprise.
‘And I took in dressmaking to support myself when I was there,’ I said.
‘You sound like a regular entrepreneur,’ said Johnny.
I was giving too much away again. Why couldn’t I shut up around him? Any pretence of sophistication had vanished. I stifled a sigh. What did it matter what he thought of me anyway? Only, somehow it did matter, and that was a worry.
‘Pat would have so loved to have been at her graduation,’ said Aunty May. ‘But it wasn’t to be.’
At last, Aunty May excused herself to go into the lounge room to listen to the wireless, and Johnny and I were left in the kitchen to do the dishes. I explained to Johnny that Aunty May couldn’t miss her Thursday night radio serial, Down Every Street. She had been very anxious all week that the young heroine would fall for the charms of the dangerous but enticing villain and fail to notice the sterling qualities of the (to me) rather boring hero.
‘Why is it that the heroes in those radio plays are always so dreary?’ I asked. ‘Worthy, but boring. It’s the villains who are the exciting ones.’
‘My mom loves all that stuff too,’ he said.
I smiled teasingly. ‘I can’t imagine you with a mother and an ordinary life.’
‘Hey, sister, I’m just an ordinary Joe.’ He had propped himself against the kitchen table and the crooked smile was back.
‘Oh yes, just an ordinary war correspondent who won a Pulitzer Prize.’
I turned away from him to fill the kettle and put it on the stove to heat water for the dishes. We had a wood stove that was always kept alight, or so close to it that in the morning you just put some twigs in the fire box, blew on it and there were flames. Before they left for the war, Charlie and Dan had arranged for local boys to keep us in wood for the stove and the copper in the wash house out the back, and to deliver plenty of small pieces of wood scraps and kindling for the chip heater in the bathroom. Uncle Pat had built the bathroom and put in the chip heater ten years ago – before that it was a bath once a week in the kitchen, with water heated in the copper.
‘I suppose all the kitchens in America have hot-water taps,’ I said, as I put in the plug and turned on the tap. Cold water started to fill the sink.
‘Lots do. Most of the new homes in Chicago do, and
people are having it put into the old ones. We plumbed hot water into the kitchen for Mom a few years ago.’
He cleared his throat softly and the tone of his voice changed. ‘America isn’t like it is in the movies, you know. Some of it is, sure, but not all. We have slums that make anything I’ve seen in Australia look good – even the ones in Sydney. Some of the tenements in New York would make your hair curl in horror. And our farmers suffered terrible poverty in the last decade – have you read The Grapes of Wrath?’
‘Yes.’ It had shocked and upset me. ‘We had a terrible time in the Depression in Australia, too,’ I said. ‘I think that poor people suffer no matter where they are.’
I turned off the tap. ‘I suppose we Australians are fixed on the idea that America is rich and modern and exciting. I suspect that we’ve got a lot of war brides who’ll be sadly disappointed when they reach America after the war.’
‘I think that a percentage of brides are always sadly disappointed,’ he said, a laugh evident in his voice. ‘But sure, if these girls think they’re marrying Clark Gable and are going to live in a Hollywood set, then they’ll be disappointed. If they know that they’re marrying an ordinary Joe they happen to have fallen in love with and who happens to live in a different country, then they’ll be fine.’
‘Thanks for coming tonight,’ I said, turning to face him.
There was that ridiculously attractive smile. ‘Why thank me?’ he said. ‘I’m the one who had the dinner and company.’
‘For making Aunty May feel like a saint for taking in Evie.’
‘Meet me for dinner tomorrow night and I’ll count us square.’
I looked at him, unsmiling. ‘Johnny, you know I can’t. I’ve got a boyfriend.’
‘It’s just dinner, Nell.’
I shook my head. Of course it was just dinner, and I knew that Rob wouldn’t mind if I spent time with Johnny – it was me I was worried about. Johnny was just so attractive and I didn’t want to risk getting in too deep. All over Perth girls were falling for smooth Americans, losing their hearts and their virtue and their futures for a few days of passion. I knew how lucky I was to have a man like Rob, and I would do nothing to jeopardise that, not for a man I’d only met a few hours ago.
I turned away again, removed the kettle from the stove and poured boiling water into the cold water in the sink. Then I took the net bag with the soap scraps in it and swished it around in the water to get a lather. I turned my head to look at Johnny. He was still propped against the table, watching me.
‘Would you bring the glasses over, please?’ I asked.
Johnny picked up the glasses from the table and brought them to me, then he brought the rest of the dirty dishes and stacked them on the counter near the sink.
‘I’ll dry,’ he said, and picked up the tea towel. ‘Miss Eleanor Fitzgerald, you’re
a con artist.’
I stopped washing the dishes and looked at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘When I first saw you walking down that path in the courthouse gardens I thought you were a cool, sophisticated gal. Poised, fashionably dressed, supremely confident. I’ve met a lot of girls like that in my time. I thought I could ask you to dinner and have a swell time and forget you immediately.’
My cheeks were hot. I sighed. ‘I know. I’ve been told that before. Rob says that I appear to be something I’m not. It’s my job – fashion and beauty. I have to look the part. I’m just an ordinary working-class girl really.’
He shook his head and laughed a little. ‘Nope. You’re not that either. I haven’t figured out what you are. Except I know that you’re smart, beautiful, and more than a bit foolhardy.’
‘Rob says I act before I think. He says that he likes it about me, but it worries him too.’
‘Just shut up about him,’ said Johnny softly. ‘I’m sick of hearing about that guy. He’s a chump. How long have you been together?’
‘Two and a half years,’ I said.
‘If he hasn’t proposed yet, then he’s a chump.’ He moved closer, and my heart started thumping wildly.
‘He’s not a—’
‘He’s a chump.’ He put down the tea towel and raised his hand to touch my hair. My heart was still thumping but now I found it hard to breathe as well. ‘You know, it looks very elegant like this, but I’d like to see it down. Less sophisticated and more Nellie Fitzgerald.’
‘Don’t call me . . .’ My voice faded. He was awfully close to me and although I knew that this was a very bad idea, I had a suspicion that things were no longer under my control. His hand had moved up to cradle the back of my head and he began to pull me towards him.
‘Ne-ell. My hair’s all wet and I don’t know what to do with it.’
We sprang apart. Johnny grabbed the tea towel, a glass and started polishing. I shoved my hands into the water and moved the dishcloth around. I took a couple of breaths to calm myself before I turned to face Evie, who was standing in the doorway wearing one of my old nightgowns. She hadn’t seen anything – that was clear at least. Her face was covered with wet hair and a towel.
‘Oh, Evie. You’ve washed your hair! However will we get it dry before you go to bed? You should have waited until the morning.’
She was dripping onto the lino as she wiped clumsily at her hair with the thin towel.
‘You’ll just knot it if you do that,’ I said sharply. ‘Sit down and let me look at it.’
She moaned and dropped into a chair. ‘I hadn’t washed it in weeks and I didn’t want to dirty your aunt’s pillowslip. You had that nice shampoo in the bottle by the bath.’
She’d used my precious shampoo!
I asked warily, ‘How much did you use?’ There had been enough in the bottle to last for another two months at least.
‘All of it – I had to,’ wailed Evie. ‘My hair was really dirty. But now it’s all wet and knotted.’
I counted to ten very fast. It had taken me hours to make the shampoo from a recipe I’d found and then printed in my column. When I pulled away the towel a mass of wet, tangled and delightfully scented blonde hair was revealed. It was a couple of shades lighter, too.
‘It’ll take ages to comb through this,’ I said to Johnny. ‘You might as well go. I’ll do the dishes later. Thanks for all your help today.’ I didn’t know what else to say. Thanks for almost kissing me, but don’t try it again?
‘You deal with her. I’ll finish the dishes,’ he said.
‘It’s better if you go,’ I said firmly. ‘Thanks again.’
‘I’ll finish the dishes.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Suit yourself. We’re going into the lounge room. Come on, Evie.’ I grabbed her arm, hauled her to her feet and pushed her out the door.
It took a lot of concentrated effort to work through the tangles. Her hair was very fine and there was an awful lot of it. When Johnny came in to tell us that he’d finished the dishes and was leaving, I said goodbye from my seat at Evie’s side and didn’t meet his eyes. I let Aunty May see him out. By the time Evie’s hair was relatively dry and tangle-free it was nearly eleven o’clock. I felt utterly exhausted, and I dropped into bed, too tired even to read Rob’s letter.
woke up the next morning, remembered the day before and groaned out loud. It was no wonder, really, why Rob had not yet formally proposed. I was hopeless. I’d rushed into a situation I couldn’t handle and had to be rescued by an injured bystander, I’d dragged my poor aunt into my mistakes by lumping her with an ‘uncontrollable child’ who had an extremely dubious past. And I’d very nearly kissed an American I’d only known a few hours!
There was no doubt that if Evie hadn’t turned up just at that moment, Deo gratias, I would have thrown myself into the arms of that Lothario from Chicago. Johnny Horvath undoubtedly was attractive. Not so much handsome, but definitely attractive. Extremely attractive. The smile was part of it. It quirked up at the right, making him seem sweet and a bit shy. Hah! You couldn’t call Johnny shy and I doubted he was sweet. Not him! He had an air about him though, to be sure. Sensitive, funny and intelligent, but still able to look after himself in a fight. His eyes were a lovely colour, but it was more than that, it was also the laugh lines at the corners. And his hair fell onto his forehead in a way that made me itch to brush it off.
This was crazy! He was an American and he wouldn’t be staying in Perth. And anyway, he’d seen just how silly, how totally unsophisticated I was. So why did he want to kiss me? He probably kissed any girl he thought he had a chance with. He was obviously used to picking up girls at the drop of a hat and trying his luck with them. He’d said as much. Well, I wouldn’t see him again. I didn’t want to see him again. Maybe he hadn’t been going to kiss me at all and I had made the whole thing up in my head.
All at once I had the overwhelming need to touch something that belonged to Rob. His latest letter was still on the hall table, so I reached under the bed and dragged out the shoebox I used to store Rob’s letters. The blue lettergrams were in there, in neat little bundles, each tied up with blue ribbon. Rob had sent one or two a week since January 1942, when he’d left for training. I pulled out a bundle, undid the ribbon and opened a letter, picking out sentences at random.
23 April 1942
New Guinea
I miss you more than I would have thought possible. I have your smile, caught in the photograph that is beside my bed, but it’s a poor substitute for the real thing, and it can’t capture your laugh, or your voice, or that perfume you wear. If I sound morose, it’s because I am, sitting here in this awful heat, listening to the crack of guns in the distance, tormented by mosquitoes and missing my Nell.
There were tears in my eyes as I replaced the letter, retied the ribbon and put it into the shoebox with the rest. I loved Rob. I was going to marry him. Thank goodness I hadn’t actually kissed Johnny. I pushed back the covers, shrugged into my dressing gown and went into the bathroom to get ready for the day.
Aunty May, as usual, had been up for an hour, in which time she’d chopped some kindling, lit the stove and the chip heater – so that I’d have hot water for my bath – and made the porridge. I had tried many times to convince her to wait for me to get up to help with the heavier tasks, but she always said, ‘That’s my job, Nellie. Your job is earning money for the household.’
That wasn’t strictly true. We had enough to live on without my wages, because the army sent us money on behalf of Dan and Charlie, but my income meant that we had more than enough; when you’ve been very poor, as we had been in the thirties, it’s having a little bit more than enough that makes all the difference.
I sat at the kitchen table in my dressing gown after my bath, eating porridge and making notes on my story about the last day of the trial. It was only Friday morning so I had plenty of time to get my story to Mr Gleddings. We didn’t have set working hours on the paper, but woe beti
de the person who failed to meet the ten o’clock Saturday morning deadline. I was intending to go into the Marvel office, type up my notes and hand them in, then finish my column. But I wanted to see Evie first.
She appeared at nine o’clock in an old dressing gown of mine, face scrubbed and anxious for her breakfast. She looked young and fresh and full of life. Her blonde hair floated around her like a halo. I realised that Evie was an extremely pretty girl, fine-featured with high cheekbones and lovely blue eyes. She was also very slim and light-boned, which gave her an air of fragility, though from what I had seen yesterday, I knew that she was tougher than she looked.
As soon as Evie sat down Aunty May put a bowl of porridge and brown sugar in front of her, and opened a new bottle of milk so that she could have the cream that sat on the top of the milk in the bottle, which was a real treat. Evie started eating hungrily. That girl really could eat like there was no tomorrow.
‘Ne-ell,’ said Evie, putting down her spoon with a sigh of satisfaction and looking up from her empty bowl. She was regarding me with what could only be described as calculated winsomeness. ‘I don’t have any clothes except that horrible old dress. Could I borrow something? Please?’
We went through every piece of clothing I possessed. Evie was a very critical audience. Eventually she was wearing a hand-knitted dress in sky blue, over one of my best slips.
She looked around my room. ‘Can I try some of your perfume? Silk stockings? Or nylons? Could you make up my face to look like you do?’
Enough was enough. I handed her some purpley-grey lisle cotton stockings. The colour was not a good match with the dress and, as usual, they twisted a bit at the ankle and were a little baggy.
‘I’ll wear socks,’ she said, taking them off with a look of disgust. ‘Do you have any socks?’
I pulled out a pair of white cotton socks. She put them on and rolled them down to the ankle. Evie was right about the socks – she looked younger and fresher in them than she had in the thick stockings. But I was worried that she’d be cold. Her legs were pale and smooth and thin. No point arguing with Evie, though. I’d already worked that out.
Taking a Chance Page 7