by Di Morrissey
The farmhouse came into view. It looked run-down, with the clutter of equipment, a neglected dray, milk urns, a broken table, rolls of wire and old tyres piled around. Washing sagged on a line with the appearance of always having been there. Nola was constantly hanging out washing.
After the neatness and order of the army camp the messy display offended Clem. It was how it had always been. This was his home but already after a few months in the army he felt removed. He didn’t belong here anymore. Talking to other young men about plans ‘after the war was won’ broadened his vision of the opportunities that were his for the taking if he made an effort.
The letters from Elizabeth who was ‘saving every penny to get out of Cedartown’ reinforced his determination to not live back here. He knew Keith would never leave the farm and valley, and it gave him a sense of relief. Maybe Kevin would get other ideas after being in the navy. His sister Phyllis, just thirteen, might eventually marry someone with their own farm or her husband might move in here.
Times were still tough; they hadn’t really got over the hardship of the Depression years, and now everyone had to put up with wartime shortages, rationing and restrictions. Clem was pleased he’d been able to save money from his pay to slip to his mother. He couldn’t recall ever giving her a proper present. Doing some special job around the house she wanted done had been all she’d ever asked for a birthday or Christmas. One year he had fixed the old cuckoo clock that she had got from her mother. How Nola treasured it.
He couldn’t remember his father ever giving her anything. Well, there was the time he gave her the wood-fired copper where she boiled the clothes on wash days. It had been Kevin’s job to keep a pile of twigs and kindling ready to light the fire on those days, usually every Monday. The copper had been a luxury after the days when the children were babies and toddlers and Nola had boiled the washing in kerosene drums on an open fire down by the creek, spreading it on the grass to dry enough to carry home. There they were hung out to finish drying on an old wire line propped up with a forked stick. It was still hard physical work lifting and hanging the clothes and Clem wondered if his mother might have preferred the time on her own down at the creek surrounded by the pretty paddocks and the calm company of cows.
His thoughts turned to Elizabeth. He couldn’t imagine her doing the washing at a creek or in a wood-fired copper. She was a modern young woman, worked in an office and had soft hands with painted nails. He smiled to himself thinking of the pretty bracelet he’d bought for her. Real gold too.
He and Thommo had gone into a pawn shop when Thommo needed money after gambling and had sold his watch. He didn’t want to borrow the money from Clem. There Clem had spotted the thin chain bracelet with a small heart dangling from the clasp. It was the first frivolous thing he’d ever bought and he hoped Elizabeth would like it.
He wanted to show his mother but didn’t want to hurt her feelings because he hadn’t bought her something special, just for herself. He’d never seen her wear any jewellery other than a modest crystal brooch and her plain gold wedding band. Had his father ever given her a personal gift? Had there ever been tenderness, laughter over silly things or shared tears between them? Sex seemed to be a silent secret event behind their closed bedroom door.
He grinned as his thoughts turned to sex. He’d learned a lot more about that since joining the army. A lot more than the farmyard and schoolyard had taught him while growing up. The subject of sex had never been mentioned to the boys by their parents.
While away at army camp it had been Thommo who’d decided they should visit a house where you paid for sex. ‘The women will do anything, mate. Honest,’ enthused Thommo with the authority of experience.
But it had been an unsatisfactory experience for Clem. He was too drunk to respond well to the enticements the girl offered, and he swore he’d never do it again. ‘Save your money, mate,’ he advised Thommo as they staggered out.
Within a day Clem slipped back into the farm routine. His mother gave him a teary and loving welcome home; his father shook his hand effusively. Before lunch the copper was lit and most of the clothes from the kit bag were being boiled.
Back in his work clothes, jumping to directions from his father, Clem felt he’d never been away. But he was a reluctant worker knowing Thommo was waiting for him in town. By now Elizabeth would know he was back home – Thommo would have been round to see the Gordons next door. Two of their boys had joined up. They’d no doubt shout the news over the fence to everyone at Cricklewood that Clem was back on leave.
So Clem worked hard and fast, making a list of things that needed repairing. He talked to Keith about the prospects of the farm during these hard times. His older brother was quiet and stolid, a hard worker from before sunrise to teatime when he put his head down and chewed steadily through the evening meal before taking his dish to the kitchen sink.
Neither Keith nor his father spoke during mealtimes. That was how it had always been at the table. Only Nola broke the solemn silence, asking someone to pass a plate or the sauce, or offering more food or volunteering some gossip or news she’d heard on the radio. Her remarks were usually received with little more than a grunt from the old man, though Clem and Kevin tried to show some interest in the minutiae of their mother’s life. If Phyllis spoke up and tried to be part of the conversation, her father would glare and remind her that girls were seen and not heard, so she suffered through each meal.
Clem found he missed the raucous meal times with his army mates and the sad realisation came to him that he really had little in common with his family, nothing to share.
On the afternoon of his second day home Clem took the farm truck and drove into town to collect spare parts, feed, seed, and ‘do some stuff’. First stop was the stock and station agency where Elizabeth worked. Looking through the cursive gold lettering on the glass window he could see Elizabeth behind a desk next to the partitioned office of George Forde, the auctioneer and owner.
Donald, Forde’s offsider, had a smaller office at the back in a big shed where they stored produce, feed, spare parts for machinery and farm vehicles, horse needs including harnesses of all kinds, a wide range of tools and fertilisers and chemicals. There was a loading dock off the back lane and there was nearly always a farmer or two rolling a smoke and having a yarn with Donald, sometimes over a cuppa, about the war, the weather, crops and livestock. George Forde maintained Donald knew everything everyone was doing before they did it, and way before The Chronicle newspaper got onto it.
Clem stepped inside. ‘Got any good calves for sale, love?’
Elizabeth looked up, her face flushing with pleasure. She gave a cheeky shrug. ‘Thought you’d had enough of cows. About time you came to town.’
Clem quietly shut the door and glanced at Forde’s office. ‘Boss in?’
Elizabeth shook her head and patted her hair that was rolled in a coil at the nape of her neck. ‘Donald’s out the back.’
‘Give us a kiss then.’ Clem reached for her.
‘Not in here, Clem –’ Elizabeth started but he grabbed her, drew her to him, crushing his mouth on hers.
‘Mmm. You smell good. Feel good too.’ He patted her backside.
‘You’re terrible, but I like it,’ she giggled. ‘It’s good to see you.’ She eyed the striking young man in uniform, noting his highly polished army boots. ‘I’m glad you wore your uniform to impress me.’ She squeezed his hands. On an earlier leave he’d given her a copy of the formal picture of him in uniform. Elizabeth hid the photograph under her pillow and kissed the picture of the handsome figure in his army khakis and slouch hat with the rising sun badge on the side.
‘What time do you knock off? Reckon you could get an early mark? I got to be back for milking.’
‘Oh, blow those cows.’ She glanced at the old Victorian-era pendulum clock in a carved wooden case on the wall. ‘I could ask Donald if he’d mind sitting in here for a bit to get the telephone and so on. Mr Forde is out looking at a clearing sale
he’s doing on Friday.’
‘I’ll go ask Don. Man to man,’ winked Clem. ‘We could take a stroll down to the river.’
Donald was wiry and tanned, a cigarette constantly stuck to his lip. He was dressed in his uniform of navy work shirt and old pants held up by a plaited leather belt he’d made himself when he was a stockman.
‘G’day, Donald. I just popped in to see Elizabeth. Been away at training camp.’
‘Good on you, Clem. So how’re you finding it? Them sergeants giving you a hard time?’
‘It’s not too bad, if you toe the line. Tucker’s good. Nice fellows. Thommo is in the same unit as me.’
‘How’s your dad managing without you? Bet Frank Thompson misses you about the picture show too. Still handy with a spanner? Thought you’d go in with the engineers.’
‘Infantry suits me. Might do a course through the army later but. Learn a good trade. After we get back from knocking off a few Jerries.’
‘When do you boys ship out?’
‘They don’t tell us much. Got to be back in camp in a week or so.’
Donald broke the burning end off his cigarette, stamped on it and tucked the rest behind his ear. ‘S’pose you’ll be wanting to spend some time with Elizabeth?’
‘Yeah. Do you think she could have a short break now? I can’t stay long in town.’
‘George has gone for the day. I’ll sit in there and read the newspaper for half an hour.’ He gave Clem a quick grin and a wink.
‘Thanks, mate.’
Hand in hand Clem and Elizabeth wandered down the dusty road that wound past the Brush to the river. Apart from an old man fishing from the unused wharf they were alone. The tangle of remnant rainforest that stretched to the river was smothered in rampant vines dotted with the purply blue flowers of morning glory. They walked through the roughly cleared patch of grass by the wharf that was used for weekend picnics, and where some anglers pushed their wooden rowing boats into the river.
‘Hey, remember the Empire Day fireworks when Thommo dared us to go into the Brush?’ grinned Clem.
‘First time you kissed me,’ said Elizabeth.
‘I thought you kissed me!’
‘Well, you’ve made up for it,’ she laughed.
Clem stopped and pulled her to him and kissed her long and hard.
Elizabeth pulled away, touching her lipstick-smudged lips and smoothing her hair. ‘Clem Richards! In the middle of the road where everyone can see!’
‘What everyone? C’mon, Elizabeth. I’m going to starve for you while I’m away.’
She gave him a quick peck and they continued walking. ‘Are you scared?’ she asked after a pause.
‘About whipping the Jerries? I don’t think so. Me and Thommo and the boys from the 13th Battalion will get in there and do the job.’
‘I’ll keep writing to you. Tell you what’s going on.’ Her hand tightened around his.
Clem felt a sudden rush of insecurity, wondering just what would be waiting for him ‘over there’, and for a moment he doubted Thommo’s exhortations of it all being a great adventure. They walked in silence to the river and he led her to the hand-hewn seat an old timber worker had made from a fallen tree. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he held her close. The fisherman wound in his line and began packing tackle in a small basket.
‘How much time have you got? Why do you have to work at the farm? Can’t your brother do it? You and Kevin are enlisted men,’ said Elizabeth.
‘You don’t know my father,’ said Clem. Elizabeth had never been invited to his house for a meal and Clem hadn’t given his family any clue that he was serious about her. She was just one of the home-town girls they all knew to nod hello to, just as they greeted Harold and Emily Williams in the street in the same polite but distant manner. ‘He’s a hard man. He doesn’t know how to be anything else. I feel sorry for Mum, all she does is work and look after us boys and Phyllis. She’ll miss Kev and me. Keith’s the quiet one. At least he and Dad seem to get on so just as well he’s staying behind.’
‘What you said in your letters, about not going back to the farm, did you mean it?’ asked Elizabeth snuggling closer to him.
‘Bloody oath, ‘scuse me. I reckon I can get a job fixing motors. And I don’t mean just cars. Thommo’s dad knows a fellow down in Sydney with an engineering factory, said he’ll get me in there any time I want.’
‘That’s what I’m doing. Moving to Sydney. I’m saving up. I’m not staying in Cedartown forever,’ said Elizabeth firmly.
‘So, what say we go south together, eh?’ joked Clem.
‘Oh, yeah, and when would that be?’ Elizabeth spoke lightly with a smile but he felt the tension in her.
‘Let’s hope this war thing is over quick. You wait for me, okay? Don’t you have nothing to do with any other blokes.’
Elizabeth straightened up. ‘Well, it’s not like we’re engaged or anything, Clem Richards.’
‘Aw c’mon, Elizabeth . . .’ he leaned over and kissed her cheek. ‘I brought you something.’
She turned to him, her eyes shining. ‘A present?’
‘Yeah, give us a kiss, a proper one.’
She wound her arms around him and they kissed long and hard, oblivious to the fisherman walking back up the road.
‘Crikey, you know how to kiss all right,’ breathed Clem. ‘Just as well it’s daylight or I’d throw you in the bushes and jump on you.’
‘So where’s my present? I’ll have to be getting back to the office.’
Clem pulled the small velvet bag from his trouser pocket. ‘Hope you like it.’
Elizabeth untied the ribbon, trying to hide her disappointment it wasn’t a small box that might contain a ring. She pulled out the fine gold bracelet.
‘You like it? Here, let me help put it on you.’ He slipped it on her wrist and fumbled with the clasp.
‘It’s pretty.’ Elizabeth jiggled the little heart locket.
‘That’s my heart, you can carry it around while I’m gone,’ said Clem, his voice choking up.
Elizabeth looked at him, her eyes wet with tears. ‘I’ll miss you, be careful over there.’
‘Ah, Thommo will watch out for me.’ He paused, and stroked the bracelet on her wrist. ‘Elizabeth, you’re my girl. You and me, we’ve always liked each other.’
‘Oh Clem,’ sighed Elizabeth. ‘I really love you.’ They kissed, more tenderly than passionately.
‘Then you’ll wait for me. And when I come back, we’ll . . . get married. Try our luck in Sydney, eh?’ whispered Clem.
Elizabeth hugged him. ‘Oh yes, Clem. You bet.’ She drew away from his embrace. ‘So can I tell people we’re engaged?’
Clem blinked. The vague idea of a future with Elizabeth, trying their luck in the big smoke, hadn’t quite settled in his mind as a direct proposal of marriage. ‘Ah, well, just between us. I wouldn’t say anything to the parents. They’re upset enough about us going away.’
‘So where’re you going?’
‘Blowed if we know. Somewhere foreign. Exotic.’ Clem was glad to change the subject.
Elizabeth stood up. ‘C’mon, let’s go back. So when am I going to see you? There’s a dance on tomorrow night. And Mum and Dad thought they’d like to have a bit of a party for the Gordon boys and friends. Supper and a sing song, you know what Mum’s like.’
‘Sounds good. Thommo and me will be there.’
He waved goodbye through the glass shopfront as Elizabeth settled at her desk. Behind her Donald gave Thommo a thumbs up as he headed back out to the loading bay.
‘So does this mean you’re engaged then?’ asked Mollie as she admired Elizabeth’s bracelet that night. ‘Where’s the ring?’
‘He’ll get one. We don’t want anyone to know. It’s a secret,’ said Elizabeth, suddenly deciding not to break the news until she had a ring to flash. Her sister always cut straight to the heart of a matter.
‘Why?’ asked Mollie.
‘Because everyone is upset at the
boys leaving and the war and everything.’
‘So wouldn’t it be nice before he goes, to, you know, have a ring and everything? What if he gets killed?’
‘Mollie! That’s a horrible thing to say.’ Elizabeth stared at her sister. The cold brutality of the statement brought home the possibility that had hovered at the periphery of her mind. ‘I try not to think about that. Anyway, he mightn’t ever leave Australia.’
‘That’s not what Dad thinks.’ Mollie gave the know-it-all look of a fifteen year old. ‘So, is he a good kisser?’
Elizabeth relaxed and threw a cushion from the chair at Mollie. ‘Yes, if you must know. Now don’t you say anything to Mum and Dad.’
*
For Clem the days became increasingly busy. He worked around the farm doing jobs for his dad and tried to spend time with his mother, but he spent more and more time in town. He wanted to see Elizabeth every day, and there was Thommo. He always had a plan, a beer at the pub where the publican allowed the two boys, not yet twenty-one, to drink in the bar; a fishing trip for freshwater perch in the river; a spin up the mountain range behind town on a borrowed motorbike; kicking a football about the park with old school mates; or a quiet yarn about the days when they were kids, before a uniform changed their lives.
Clem liked the change of pace and was relieved to see that it also eased the tensions caused by Thommo’s overindulgence in grog and gambling in the army. He had gone a bit wild gambling at cards and two-up, and was always trying to keep up with the older and more experienced drinkers. But back home in the valley Thommo calmed down and once again they were two best mates, doing things together like in the days before the war. They spent time with each other’s family but it was hard to relax at the farm and Clem was pleased that the Thompsons treated him like a second son.