Lizzie's Tale

by Graham Wilson

  Chapter 11 - Escape West

  Lizzie had no clear plan in mind, but she had already made up her mind she must leave Melbourne. She did not want to take the risk that these people would find her and Catherine somewhere else; next time she may not be so lucky and get advanced warning.

  So she found her way to the tram stop and headed for the city, thinking as she went. It was past time for aimless flight, she had enough money, more than four hundred pounds. It would last her for a good while and she must use it well, to get to a place of security for both her and Catherine, where she could stay and watch her child grow. Both she and her child needed a place to call their own, somewhere they came home to each night, with friends around, and which no one would try to take away from them.

  While she could not be certain, and would return to it if needed, she also thought her time as a prostitute was over. She did not want to undo this time, she had learned so much about herself and about many other parts of life in the doing. But now she had a choice again and her mind was clear; yes, she would choose another life.

  She had a half formed idea to head west, at least to Adelaide and maybe further. She thought there was a Trans Australian Railway which ran all the way across the country to Perth in Western Australia. So maybe she would head for there. Now that the tram was taking her to the city she decided that her first destination was Spencer Street Railway Station. That was where her Sydney train had come to and she thought that other trains out of Melbourne would leave from there.

  Once she was there she would find out how to catch a train west. Now the plan was clear; she would go first to Adelaide, maybe stop there for a night and then head on at least until she came to Perth, maybe even further. She pictured a map of Australia in her head, and imagined the furthest away part of Western Australia, names like the Kimberley and Broome sprang to mind, that was it, Broome sounded right, a B name like Balmain, but so far away that the chance of anyone finding her there was vanishingly small.

  Once at the station the ticket man told her that she should take a train to Adelaide and then catch a further train on from there. The next train departed this evening about eight o’clock and arrived there mid-morning tomorrow. So she bought a ticket to Adelaide, it was about the same cost as one to Sydney. She could have bought a ticket for the whole journey to Perth, but she preferred the idea of stopping for a day or two in Adelaide, she had never been there and had only read small amounts about it in books at school. So she liked the idea of having a day there to rest and look around.

  It would not eat into her savings much and she thought it would also be good for Catherine to break the trip. She could also buy things there for the longer trip, the man said it was another three or four days from there to Perth and, even though she could buy some food on the train and at the various stops, she sensed she needed to be better prepared for such a long trip. She was sure no one in Adelaide would be suspicious of her, so once she was gone from Melbourne she could take her time.

  She now had about eight hours to pass until her train left so she decided that she would go and walk around Melbourne, she had not been back to the city since her arrival over three months before. She found it hard to believe it was so little time since she had arrived here; the girl expecting the baby who came that day seemed another person, from another distant life.

  This was one part of her life that she was glad she would never have to relive it; yes there had been some good times, but overall it had been so hard, particularly in the time after Evie died and before moving in with Rebecca; the cold, no money, no food and no glimpse of a path to a future.

  She was determined she would never regret her life at the brothel because of the freedom it had bought her.

  After an hour of walking around and window shopping she saw a sign for a public library. She was ready to sit down and feed her baby. She thought this might be a good place. It was out of the weather and, even though well into spring, the day was cool with a gusty wind.

  So she went inside and, after finding a quiet corner to feed Catherine, started to browse the bookshelves. She had barely read anything since her arrival in Melbourne and now that she was back in such a place she realised how much she had missed this part of her life, the gaining of knowledge and the filling of her imagination that went along with it.

  She decided she would use this as a time to find out about the places she was going to. With the help of a librarian she located a book of Australian maps along with books about Adelaide, Perth and the Kimberley area of Western Australia, there was even one dedicated to the town of Broome. She spent two hours ravenously devouring all this information; it was such a joy to use her brain for discovery again.

  Then, realising she had barely eaten today, just a few mouthfuls of breakfast, she decided that she would go and find a cafe for a hot lunch. As she left she saw a pile of books to one side. She asked the librarian about these, what were they?

  “Oh, we are selling off surplus books that no one has read recently, just a shilling each.” the librarian said. She selected and bought five, thinking one for each day of her trip. Even though they added to her luggage she was pleased. It seemed such an unexpected delight that, for her trip, in all those many hours to come when her baby slept, that she might have time to just sit and read. Right now she thought, if there is a place called heaven this is near enough to it, free to live within her mind.

  The afternoon meandered away. Lizzie returned to the library to keep reading. By the time it was closing she felt she had absorbed most of what she could know from books about the places she was going. She knew lots about pearl diving, crocodiles, cyclones, sun-baked heat and desert; she also knew that she would have to go by road or boat from Perth to get to Broome. Which way she would choose she did not know; but she grasped that it was a very long way further, almost as far as getting to Perth from Melbourne. The books said the roads were really bad, so she thought a boat may be worth trying for.

  About six o’clock, as dusk was falling, she returned to the railway station and ate a meal in its dining room before boarding. Now, suddenly, she felt anxious, she felt as if a sixth sense was telling her to be careful, that someone might come here looking for her. She knew the Sydney train was leaving soon and then the Adelaide train another half hour later. Imagine if the police and a social worker came here to try and intercept her before departure. She moved with her plate of food to the further corner of the dining room, next to the toilets and an outside exit. She would finish her meal here and not go outside until the train was due to board. She saw no one suspicious and decided that it must be due to her overactive imagination.

  But still the anxiety sat inside her. She had gone through so much to get to this place; she would not be careless now. She decided she would find a hidden place and wait until the very last minute to board, just to make sure they were not checking the train. It was not past Jack to put others up to something like that.

  Then, if she saw anyone who looked like an official waiting around, checking the passengers, or checking the carriages, she would find another way to travel or wait for another day, the ticket seller had told her another train left in the early morning. It was now a little over half an hour to her departure and they were about to open this train platform for boarding. She found a well hidden corner, next to a passage leading to the outside, but with a view of the platform entrance for her train. People were starting to gather there to queue and board, and a man was starting to open the gate, and check tickets.

  Lizzie sat there with a clear view, but almost hidden. She was holding a newspaper up to cover her face, and her pram was hidden further out of sight behind her chair.

  The hairs on her neck stood up, a policeman and Jack were standing there, talking together. They were both scrutinising the passengers that had gathered. Retreat was the order of the day; she would try again in the morning. The ticket office was around the corner out of sight of the platform entrance. She asked them to change her bo
oking to the first train next morning, taking care not to let them sight her baby, perhaps her description with the child had been used as a way of trying to locate her.

  The lady who served her was helpful and unsuspicious. “Sure love, I can do that, just a ten shilling fee for the rebooking. She took her new ticket and left the station, finding a nearby hotel for the night.

  She returned for next morning’s seven o’clock train, anxiety running through her. This time there was only a sleepy ticket seller and a handful of sleepy passengers. Still she waited until departure was in less than five minute before she plucked up her courage and quickly boarded. As the train rolled away she felt herself shaking with relief.

  It was six days before she alighted in Perth, it had been a long and slow trip but now she was really starting to feel safe. From Adelaide she had treated herself to a sleeper, shared with an older lady. The two made occasional friendly conversation but mostly she read, slept and entertained her baby. Despite the long trip she felt well rested.

  She found a boat to take her north, a coastal steamer. It was leaving in a week for a trip along the west coast to Darwin and return, stopping at all the main towns. She booked a passage to Broome. She stayed in a boarding house in Freemantle, near the docks, until it left. Time passed quickly; she found the people were friendly. Her baby led to many easy conversations and smiles.

  While there she wrote a letter to Julie, telling her of her need to flee again, and also about her life in Melbourne. She decided to hide nothing, telling her about Evie and that life, telling her about working in the café and meeting Becky, and then when the other money ran out taking a job in the brothel, selling sex for money.

  She said it was a hard choice but she was not ashamed, she had saved four hundred pounds and a chance for a new life which would not have come without this. But now she hoped to leave this street girl life behind her.

  She even told about meeting this man, Robbie and the wonderful times they had together, and that she had told Robbie about the rape and how that had helped her. She even said that she thought she was in love with him, but now she must put him behind and get on with a life on her own, though she missed him so much. When she finished she felt it was good to have said all this, even if only to her friend.

  She thought of writing a letter to Robbie, to try and say what she felt about him, in the hope he felt too, an attempt to keep part of her promise and at least tell him where she was going. Several times she wrote words and scratched them out, crumpling each sheet.

  Finally she put her pen aside, tears misting her eyes. It was just too hard. He could have come with her, right then when she left, if he had really wanted. She was now determined to block him out of her mind, not to remember those nights when they had joined their bodies together and she had loved him with all her being. That had to be left behind, as a part of her childhood, her first discovery of love. Now she must move on.

  So instead of Robbie she made herself think of her mother and her brother. Now she found the photos from Evie, the only pictures of her friend. She put two copies of the photos of her, Catherine and Evie into the envelope for Julie. She asked Julie to give one set to her mother, and to tell her about this lady who had helped her when the baby was born. Then the letter was posted.

  After the week in Freemantle Lizzie was pleased when it was time to sail. This time she shared a small cabin with another lady, polite but less friendly. This trip was not as easy; often a strong wind was blowing, giving a heavy swell. She discovered sea-sickness, and at each town she thought of leaving the boat to avoid further travel. But something drove her on, slowly the trip progressed and the boat moved north into calmer waters. A week later she was standing on dry land again, in hot sunshine. She was on a wharf in Broome, breathing in salty tropical air.

  She still had three hundred and ten pounds. She was pleased, she had crossed to the furthest side of this country, she still had money to spare which should allow her to establish a life here and she had encountered no more difficulty than a little rough sea weather.