Lizzie's Tale

by Graham Wilson

  Chapter 6 - Melbourne Bound

  Lizzie thought she was rich when she left Sydney, she had her friend back and she had over one hundred pounds in her purse. She knew she would not write to Julie for a long time, not because she did not want to stay in touch, but because she did not want her friend trying to pay for her new life. They both had to get on with their own lives in their own ways.

  Her buoyant mood remained throughout the long night as the train slowly rattled its way south, with occasional station and farm house lights flashing by. But, as the light grew from the late dawn, normally a time when one’s spirits lifted, and they approached Melbourne, reality started to take hold again. Where was she to go, how to find a place to stay and how to support herself, and soon to support a new baby?

  She was dog tired and hungry, she had eaten oatmeal biscuits to limit her hunger, but she really wanted a hot meal, some of her mother’s cooking. However she knew she would rapidly exhaust her limited money if she started using it for bought meals. In Melbourne she must find a place where she could cook for herself to conserve her limited budget. In the meantime she had to be strong and resist that comfort desire.

  Her back was also aching, the baby was starting to really press down, and a night spent mostly sitting up had been uncomfortable. A few times she had managed to stretch out. But then other passengers would come onto the train and she would have to sit up again. Her body craved a hot bath, a hot meal and a warm bed.

  At the main Melbourne station she spent a couple shillings on a map, so as to get her bearings. Then she asked people there if they could recommend any good and cheap places to stay. Someone suggested that she catch a tram to St Kilda, with lots of boarding houses she could try her luck there.

  On walking outside she found it was a cold and dreary Melbourne winter day. A cold wind was blowing light misty rain. She wrapped her coat around her and shivered as she got directions for the tram to take her to St Kilda. An hour later she was trudging, bag in hand, down its main street, next to the beach. The view was dismal; grey ocean with broken white tops, barely a person in sight.

  She tried a few places, boarding houses and the like, but the prices were higher than she realised. Most were upwards of twenty pounds a month, and in many she had nowhere to cook. She knew she must take somewhere soon, even if it only gave her a place for a couple of days. She could feel exhaustion starting to set in, her feet felt like lead and her bag like it was full of house bricks.

  Finally she found something within her means, even though it was awful after her comfortable room at home. She was directed here by a lady at another house who seemed to have a little more sympathy for her than others had. It was sixteen pounds a month. It was a dirty little room outside the back of a shabby house, with a tiny gas burner in an alcove. The windows were broken, patched with sheets of board, and wind still came through gaps. However she was getting desperate. It was at least shelter and she thought she could fix it up enough to make it bearable.

  The man who showed it to her was unshaven and smelt, wearing dirty clothes. However he seemed willing to take her money, and had either not noticed or chosen not to comment on her pregnant state which was less obvious in the heavy coat.

  However, as she pulled out her money to pay, she heard the front door open. Someone called out; his wife came in, returned from shopping. She was a thin, mean looking woman, probably in her late forties, with a scowl on her face. She turned to her husband, who shrunk back under her glance. “Who is she? What are you doing, Joe?”

  “I was going to rent that room out the back to her, you know the one you said you wanted a tenant for.”

  The woman looked at Lizzie suspiciously; perhaps she distrusted her husband with young women, though it was something more than that. Then she said, “Open up your coat, girl. Let me have a proper look at you.” As Lizzie did her swollen belly pushed against the thin dress, it could no longer be hidden.

  Then the woman turned to her husband and, with contempt, said to him. “What in God’s name were you thinking? Can’t you see she is up the duff with no husband in sight. And the baby can’t be far away from being born. What did you think you were doing, offering her a home for bastard children? You must be joking if you think she can stay here. What about having a screaming and bawling kid in our house, what if something happens when the baby comes, did you not think of any of these things?”

  Joe muttered something and shrugged his shoulders. The woman turned to Lizzie with a vicious look on her face. “I know the likes of you, spreading it around with anyone who wants it. Get your sluttish face out of here; if I see you again I will call the police.”

  Lizzie felt devastated and shamed. She did not much like this shambling man, but at least it was something. But the meanness of this woman made her quail, she knew how some people thought of unmarried mothers, but never had it been flung in her face with this nastiness.

  As fast as she could she picked up her bag. She squared her shoulders, trying to hold a shred of dignity, and walked out. The lady slammed the door, with a vicious curse, behind her.

  Lizzie could feel her self-control and sense of purpose collapsing. She stumbled as she walked down the steps to the street. She had to clutch at the rail to stop herself falling. Her belly gave a violent wrench and spasm as she hauled herself back. She groaned aloud, that really hurt, her hands involuntarily clutched her belly. She hoped it had not hurt her baby.

  Then, adding insult to injury, her bag fell from her hand. It bashed into the concrete and popped the flimsy lock; her clothes and personal things spilled onto the dirty wet pavement. Two loutish young men walking down the other side of the street turned to watch. They whistled and clapped as she clumsily shoved her possessions back inside. Now, as she walked she had to hold her bag in her arms to stop the lock, which was broken, from springing open again.

  She could feel tears trickling down her face; she took a deep breath to get a bit of self-control. Fifty yards down the street she saw a bus shelter. It seemed to be a bit protected from the wind and rain. She would walk there and sit down for a minute while she rested and tried to think clearly.

  It took a lot of effort to walk the fifty yards, holding her bag this way, but she made it and fell back against the seat. Her whole body was trembling with a mixture of shame, hurt and exhaustion. She thought she would give anything, at that moment, just to be back in her own house; to feel her Mum and her little brother’s arms around her; to be tucked into bed, like when she was a little girl, and to have that human comfort.

  She tried to push it back but could no longer control her emotions. Soon she was crying. She turned her face away from the street, and buried it into her coat, sobbing in great gulping sobs, as her misery flowed out. As her crying eased, and she sat up, she realised that a middle aged woman, with a kind, plump face, had come into the bus shelter. She had a handbag and looked like she was waiting for the bus to come.

  As Lizzie straightened this lady turned to her and said, “Can I help you dear? Seems like you are in a spot of trouble?”

  In a gulping voice, trying to compose herself and not cry, Lizzie explained her situation. She tried to talk calmly but it all came out in a rush; that she had just come to Melbourne, that she needed a place to stay, that she had some money, but not very much, and that she thought she had found a room but when the lady saw she was expecting a baby she sent her away.

  Now she needed to find somewhere before it got dark, but she had tried so many places and it was getting late and she was just too tired to keep looking. By the end she thought she would start crying again. But with a big effort she pushed a hanky into her mouth and made herself sit up straight.

  The lady looked at her with real kindness. “I wish I could help, God knows you need it. But I have full house at the moment. Still, if it comes to that, we will make up a bed for you on the verandah. That will see you right for a night or two.”

  Then she thought hard. “I think I know someone do
wn the street another hundred yards who could help; Evie, at Number 120. I would come with you now, but I must catch this bus which will be here in a couple minutes. Anyway why don’t you try there, I hear that she has a room that has just come vacant.

  “Tell Evie, Evie Mackenzie that is, that Sylvia suggested you come there. If she cannot help you, come back to Number 76, that’s our place, just over there, I will be home in about an hour” she said, pointing. “At least we can fix you up for the night, give you a hot meal and a bath.”

  So Lizzie walked on down to Number 120. It no longer seemed so hard, now that she now that she had some self-respect again. Number 120 was a large ramshackle house, a street back from the bay. The lady who opened the door was old and frail looking but seemed friendly. When Lizzie mentioned Sylvie’s name she positively beamed.

  She said, “Well hello dearie, it looks like you need to sit down for a bit. You look done in, trying to walk around with a bag, in your condition, in this awful weather. She brought Lizzie to the kitchen and gave her a cup of tea and slice of fruit cake before asking what it was she wanted.

  Lizzie explained that she had just arrived in Melbourne and needed a place to stay for at least three months and could not afford anything too expensive. The lady said she only had one room available at the moment. It was in the basement and not very fancy. There was a share kitchen at the back and a share bathroom on each level. Her normal rate for short term was a pound a night or six pounds a week. For a long term stay she was prepared to come down to eighteen pounds a month, provided it was for a full three months and was paid in advance, with an extra month for a security deposit.

  Lizzie did her sums in her head, assuming that the baby would come in two months and she needed a month after before she could get some work, then the seventy two pounds asked would leave very little to buy food with.

  Yet she must have a place to stay, she could not sleep out in this weather, and the day was two thirds gone, plus she was so tired that she did not think she could walk any further. Also she liked this lady, she seemed genuinely kind.

  She was about to agree, too tired to bargain. She started to pull out her purse, to double check then count out her money. She could see the lady looking at her and considering.

  The lady said to her, “I can see you are a polite and well brought up young woman. I don’t want to know how you came to be in this condition, but you clearly can’t stay out walking the streets into the night. I presume you need a place to stay, at least until your baby is born, and you can find some regular work.

  “I will tell you what, I could come down to fifteen pounds a month if you could do a few odd jobs for me each day, mainly to make sure the kitchen is left tidy, with all the dishes washed and the floor swept or mopped at the end of each day. Can you manage that?”

  Lizzie nodded her head; those extra pounds would make a huge difference to her feeding herself until the baby was born.

  The lady brought her down to the room and, on the way, showed her the kitchen and bathroom. None of it was fancy but it was clean. The bedroom had high side window and otherwise just stone walls. It was cold, but there was a made up bed with two blankets and a cover, plus a cupboard, a small desk and a chair.

  Lizzie said that she would take it and thanked the lady for her kindness.

  “Evelyn is my name she said, Evelyn Mackenzie, but you can call me Evie, that’s what most people do.”

  Lizzie introduced herself. Then she said, “If it is alright I will have a lie down for a while, I am really tired.”

  Evie replied, “Well of course, what I suggest is an hour or two of sleep then a hot bath. Then, if you come upstairs, I have a pot of hearty soup cooking away. It is for dinner for those guests who need a meal. I don’t normally provide dinner to my long term guests, but tonight a bowl of hot soup and a couple slices of bread is exactly what you need to nourish you and your baby. So tonight I would like you to be my guest and join me for a meal. After that I will let you look after yourself.”

  Lizzie felt like crying again with relief at this further kindness. The lady left and Lizzie started to unpack her few things, determined to create a sense of an order in her new home before she allowed herself to sleep.

  A minute later there was a knock on the door. Evie was holding out an object wrapped in an old towel. I know it is a bit cold down here so I have brought you a hot water bottle, it will warm up the bed and help you to get a good sleep. She also held a book, with ruled lines. This is my guest book. I just need your name, date of birth and a contact address for a relative should I need to contact anyone, just in case anything happens to you. “You can fix me up in the morning with the money.”

  Lizzie wrote down her details, then insisted on paying, taking out the sixty pounds and passing it over. Evie looked at her details, “I will give you a receipt tomorrow. What a brave young thing you are, off on your own to have a baby and only 15 years old.”