by Di Morrissey
She clung to this dream for the future as the train steamed north on Friday night, putting aside the memory of Clem’s fumbled and inadequate attempt to make love to her and blotting out the frightening scene when a car had backfired and Clem had dived onto the floor and curled up, trembling like a child. What had been the most upsetting was Clem’s call for Thommo as he lay there. ‘Thommo, Thommo, where are ya, mate? You all right?’
Her father had hinted to her that men came home from war far different from when they went away. Her mother, too, had made veiled comments, not to ‘expect too much for a bit. Let him settle down. I think you’re making a mistake rushing down there. Let Clem adjust again.’
‘He’s my husband. We should be together, Mum.’ Besides, she wasn’t going to let Clem’s family get in his ear and try to dominate his life, make him work on that miserable farm of theirs. Once Clem got his discharge she’d give notice at the stock and station agency and then it would be back to Sydney.
Rocking to the rhythm of the steel wheels rolling along the track, she savoured again the memory of the shops that even with rationing and lighting restrictions had a special appeal, the crowded trams and buses, the cosy cafes and interesting side streets, the spread of the harbour with the sun sparkling on the calm water.
The Richards clan was there to meet the train, and Elizabeth held Clem’s arm in a proprietary fashion as they walked along the platform. Phyllis broke away and rushed to her brother. They were quickly surrounded and, seeing her father with the station master, Elizabeth slid away.
‘So, how was the reunion? Worth the trip?’ grinned Harold.
‘Of course,’ she answered airily. ‘We made a lot of plans. He’s going into partnership with a mate in a motor mechanic’s place.’
Harold raised an eyebrow. ‘That’ll take a bit of capital, won’t it?’
‘We’ll manage it, Dad. Right now we’re going to rent a room in town at the boarding house.’
‘Wouldn’t it be cheaper to stay at home?’
Elizabeth smiled. ‘C’mon, Dad, we’re starting married life. For better or worse. He’s spending a couple of days with the family while I get things set up. He’s only got ten days then it’s back to Sydney.’
‘Where’s Thommo? How’s he doing?’
‘No idea. It’s Clem and me now.’
‘Don’t try to keep mates apart,’ said Harold gently. Their eyes met and Elizabeth knew at once that what he was saying was important. ‘They have a bond you’ll never be able to share.’
Clem returned home, sitting in the back of the old farm truck with Phyllis and Keith. Elizabeth stayed at Cricklewood and planned to find a room in a boarding house in two days’ time when Clem came back to town so they could be together.
Back at home, after a pot of tea and changing into his clean work clothes, Clem wandered about the farm noting a lot needed doing, but once he reached the river he sat and looked at the birds swooping, a ripple and splash from a leaping mullet. It was so peaceful, so soothing, he felt his body losing its tenseness for the first time in a long time. How often he’d thought about this during the war when home had seemed a dream.
He wished Thommo was here. They’d both talked and thought so much about the valley during the hard, dangerous days. He’d make sure they spent some time here together this leave no matter what Elizabeth wanted to do. Clem was worried about Thommo. While he was recovering from his wounds and resting, watched over by medical staff, he was fine. But there was a wild streak in Thommo, a restless, dangerous mood he got into when he drank too much.
Clem knew that Thommo could rustle up grog and find a place to gamble at the drop of a hat. He was in no hurry to return to his butcher’s trade after the war, said he’d seen too much bloodshed and carving up of people. His father wasn’t well so he’d probably help him out with the picture theatre for a while, then find something new.
By the time Clem moved into the boarding house in Cedartown with Elizabeth, he was feeling better. The break at the farm had been healing, but also reminded him why he didn’t want a life as a dairy farmer. He’d relieved Keith with the milking and farm jobs for a day, allowing him to have a special outing to continue his courtship of a girl across the river. Clem was bemused to learn Keith took a shortcut to see her by tying his good clothes in a waterproof bag he’d got from a store in town and swimming across the river. Then he changed and presented himself to her family at their farm. Walter had no idea his oldest son was interested in taking a wife, but Keith told Clem the girl had always lived on a dairy farm and accepted that’s what her life would be.
‘She’ll settle in to our place without any problem,’ he told Clem. ‘So you and Elizabeth buzz off and go to Sydney. She’d never be happy out here.’
Elizabeth continued to work, Clem met her for lunch and walked her home at the end of the day. But once Thommo arrived back in town she didn’t see Clem until tea time at the boarding house and even then she accused him of being ‘Three sheets to the wind, thanks to Thommo. He’s trouble and gives you silly ideas, Clem.’
‘Ah, he’s all right, Elizabeth. Poor bugger, his Dad mightn’t see the year out the doc reckons. Let him have a fling before we go back to barracks. After what he’s been through he’s earned it.’
Clem and Elizabeth went to dinner at Cricklewood the night before Clem was due to return to Sydney with Thommo. It seemed strange to Elizabeth to be a guest in her family home and she didn’t miss the fact her mother had laid out the good embroidered tablecloth and best china. Harold carved the roast beef – a treat from a cattleman on the plateau. Clem was in good spirits, aided by a bottle or two of stout he’d been shouted by Thommo before heading to Cricklewood.
‘Gravy, Clem?’ asked Emily, passing the gravy boat. ‘I expect you’ll find army food hard to take after being spoiled silly being back home.’
‘It’s not bad grub, missus, though they do seem to have a helluva lot of spuds, particularly mashed spuds. And nothing like your sponge cake, Harold,’ he added, knowing Harold had made one specially for the occasion.
‘We’ve been lucky here in the valley with plenty of milk, butter and cream. Plus our own eggs and vegies. Those folk in the city with rations have had a tough time,’ said Harold.
‘And have you made any plans, Clem?’ asked Emily pointedly.
Clem had been drilled by Elizabeth. ‘Not yet, Mrs Williams. We’re taking it day by day till we know we’ve fought off the Japs well and truly. Just doing my job and saving my pay.’ He busied himself with his bread and butter.
‘Thanks for dinner, Mum,’ said Elizabeth collecting the plates.
Mollie followed her into the kitchen. ‘So what are you and Clem going to do then? Are you really going to move away to Sydney?’ whispered Mollie.
‘I’m not telling you anything, missy. But, ooh, I do like Sydney. We went to a picture theatre that you wouldn’t believe,’ sighed Elizabeth. ‘The State, and it really did look like a palace inside. Now here, take the cake to the table.’
Harold walked the couple to the front gate after Clem had given Emily and Mollie little goodbye pecks on the cheek.
‘Not so hard to say adieu this time,’ said Harold clasping his hand. ‘You’ll be back before you know it. Stick it out till the end, son. We’ve got them on the run now, I reckon.’
‘The Yanks have been a mighty help,’ said Clem. ‘Wish we’d had them around during Kokoda and Lae.’
‘Now, Clem, no more talk of those days. Come on, you’ve got to pack,’ said Elizabeth tugging at his arm.
‘Might see you at the station tomorrow, Harold. We’re on the late afternoon express.’
Elizabeth linked her arm through Clem’s. ‘See you back at home tomorrow night, Dad.’ It was annoying having to move back home but it was the only way they could save enough for Clem to buy into the motor business with Clive.
Harold watched the young couple walk across the railway bridge on their way back to the boarding house in town. During his chat
with Clem over a glass of beer on the front verandah before tea there had been an oblique reference to some of the bad moments in New Guinea. Clem told Harold of rescuing Thommo but said little else. He didn’t have to, Harold recognised the haunted expression in Clem’s eyes and didn’t have the heart to tell him the memories never really faded. That even now, on occasion, the scenes of Flanders and no man’s land, of the men they never found in time and the eventual horrible death of his mate Scooter came back to him as painfully brilliant as the moment they happened.
He hoped things worked out for them. Emily thought Elizabeth had married beneath her, but Clem was a solid lad who’d probably be happy anywhere he could fiddle with engines and motors. And Elizabeth had enough drive and ambition for the both of them. He just hoped she didn’t push Clem too hard too soon.
In the small room with dusty lace curtains and a metal bedstead that was brass beneath the black, under a worn, bilious pink chenille bedspread, Clem and Elizabeth made love as they had each imagined and dreamed it should be. But come the morning Elizabeth was brisk.
‘I have to go to work, Clem. It’s a big sale day, Donald and Mr Forde need me.’
‘S’orright, love,’ yawned Clem. ‘Thommo and me will hang around together. I’ll pop down and see you to say hooroo. I’m only going to Sydney.’ He gave a grin. ‘Reckon we said it all last night, eh?’
Elizabeth pulled his bare foot sticking out from the bedclothes. ‘I reckon. Come down before you go to the train.’
It was an unusually big sale day. Cattle had come in from the west and down from the mountain and outlying districts. Prices had picked up and with good breeding stock in the yards, bidding was keen. Elizabeth kept meticulous records in her neat handwriting of prices and stowed the piles of pound notes in the cashbox beneath her desk. She’d have to balance the books at the end of the day. The farmers, cattlemen and agents were deferential, taking off their hats to pause a moment and chat with the pretty girl they all knew from her regular role on sale days.
George Forde was very pleased at the successful sales and went off with farmer friends to the hotel for a few beers. Donald was also busy at the saleyards arranging rail and truck transport as needed for cattle going some distance. Farmers took the opportunity while in town to stock up on feed, spare parts and odds and ends for their wives, so there was a lot of coming and going.
After lunch the stream of people through the office eased off and Elizabeth ate a quick sandwich at her desk. She kept her handbag and the metal cashbox under the desk next to her feet. Everything in her part of the office was neat and tidy, unlike the piles of papers, reports, receipts and notes stuck on the metal spike on George Forde’s desk. Donald had his own filing system in his head. When paperwork was produced by Elizabeth, Donald always had prices correct to the penny as well as who’d ordered what.
Elizabeth glanced at her watch wondering when Clem would arrive. His train left at four pm and would arrive in Sydney well after midnight. As she checked the time, the bell over the door rang and, although she was happy to see Clem, she could tell by his flushed face he’d been in the pub far too long.
‘You look a bit under the weather,’ she admonished.
Clem wrapped his arms around her. ‘Aw, don’t be cranky, Elizabeth. The blokes were shouting us drinks to see us off. Give us a kiss.’
She gave him a quick kiss wrinkling her nose at his beery breath. ‘I hope you sleep it off on the train. Did you eat lunch?’
‘Meat pie and peas. Baked this morning,’ grinned Clem. ‘So how’s it been today?’
‘Very good. A big sale day. Mr Forde is off celebrating. I suppose you saw him at the pub?’
‘Nah, he musta been drinking at the top pub, we were at the middle one,’ slurred Clem. ‘So are you comin’ down to the station to see us off?’
‘Clem, dear, I can’t, I have to mind the office. Could you wait here for a few minutes? I have to go out the back and change my stockings. I don’t like looking like this with so many people around.’ She glanced down at her laddered nylon stocking, a gift from one of the Americans. ‘Be back in a tick.’
As she rinsed her hands, Elizabeth glanced at her reflection in the spotted old mirror. She’d been doing her hair a new way with a roll on either side of her face and thought it made her look quite sophisticated. She and Cynthia browsed through magazines in the paper shop until Mr Humphries signalled with an exaggerated cough that he had spotted them. He expected them to buy the Women’s Weekly, not read it in his shop. Elizabeth didn’t want to look like a country girl when she moved to Sydney to look for work, so she followed the emerging styles that stretched the constraints of war time rationing and were illustrated in the couple of women’s magazines still being produced. She snapped the suspender on her new stocking, smoothed her skirt then went back to the office and found Clem in her chair, feet up on her desk.
‘Clem! Get your boots off that desk, they’re dirty.’
Clem jumped to his feet. ‘Come on, one more hug.’ He held her tightly and gave her a long passionate kiss.
Elizabeth half-heartedly squirmed from his grip. ‘Goodness, Clem, be careful of my hair, I am still at work you know. But it was nice,’ she conceded with a smile.
‘Yeah. Righto then. I’ll go and get my bag, find Thommo and head to the station. Told him a short while ago to get ready.’ He gave her bottom a cheeky slap and turned at the door. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ he grinned.
‘Little chance of that. You be careful. Don’t get into trouble with Thommo.’
‘Love ya, darl. Be good, we’ll be down in Sydney running our own business before you know it.’ He hooked the leather strap of his slouch hat under his chin and gave a wink. The door tinkled behind him.
Elizabeth looked up from her ledger when she heard the steam train whistle. She hoped Clem would sleep and not smoke and drink with Thommo on the long trip. She put down her pen, tightened the lid on the ink bottle and picked up the cashbox to add up the sale takings.
As she opened the lid, she knew something was wrong. It had felt light and Elizabeth sat there in frozen shock, staring at the empty cashbox. Madly she started opening drawers, ran around scattering papers as she went as if piles of pound notes would suddenly appear. But all the while she had a growing knot in her stomach at the memory of Clem sitting at her desk, looking cocky, fuelled by too many beers. She stopped as she remembered his parting words about being in Sydney and going into business before she knew it.
‘Oh, Clem. How could you be so stupid!’ she cried aloud to the empty office. Well, she’d just have to get it back from him. Maybe he’d wake up tomorrow and realise what a mad thing he’d done. But what was she going to say to Mr Forde? He wasn’t back in the office so, still shaking, Elizabeth locked the door and hurried down the street to the station, hoping her father hadn’t gone home yet.
She walked up the ramp at the end of the big wooden goods shed. She could see her father in his little office with his hat on, ready to leave. ‘Dad, Dad!’ she hurried through the door, tears starting to run down her face.
‘What is it, pet? Did you miss saying goodbye to Clem? Don’t tell me he didn’t see you.’
‘Oh, I saw him all right. Oh, Dad, it’s so terrible . . .’ She blurted out the story.
‘Are you sure Clem took it? Maybe Mr Forde put it away for safekeeping.’
‘No, Dad. I know it was there, I put some money in the cashbox not long before. Mr Forde never came back after lunch.’
‘What happened?’ asked Harold in a steady voice.
‘Clem was minding the office when I went to the lavatory. I told him I had to change my nylons, so it took a few minutes. When I came out he looked kind of funny and he was a bit drunk. What am I to do?’ she wailed.
‘How much money was it?’ asked Harold quietly.
‘There must have been over five hundred pounds. Easy. It was a big sale day.’
Harold slumped in his chair and took his hat off, running finge
rs through his hair. ‘Well, we can’t do anything till tomorrow morning when we get hold of Clem. Hopefully he’ll have come to his senses. You’ll just have to tell George Forde the truth.’
‘I can’t! What’ll he think of me? I might lose my job,’ sobbed Elizabeth.
‘You didn’t give him the money, dear girl. If we get it back quickly, Clem will be under a bit of a cloud but it will blow over. I’ll talk to George with you first thing in the morning. No need to get anything official done and no one else need know about this.’
‘Oh, do you think so, Dad?’ Elizabeth dabbed at her face.
‘Let’s hope so. Dry your tears and let’s face the music in the morning, eh. We’ll have to track Clem down through his unit at Victoria Barracks.’
‘Hopefully he’ll send a message through to us. He has the phone number at the office,’ sniffed Elizabeth.
‘Let’s go home. I was just about to pack it in.’
Elizabeth tucked her arm in her father’s as they strolled towards Cricklewood. She felt better, her father was always so calm and strong. But it was going to be a long sleepless night.
Harold wasn’t as calm as he appeared. All they could do was hope for the best. Five hundred pounds. It was more money than he could imagine having at any one time.
‘What’s up with Lizzie?’ Mollie asked her father later that night as they did the washing up.
‘She’s upset Clem’s going away. Just leave her be. And don’t say anything to your mother,’ he added.
They were eating breakfast when the front doorbell rang. Mollie ran to answer it and came back looking frightened.
‘Dad, there’s a policeman at the door. He wants to speak to Elizabeth. He called her Mrs Richards.’
Elizabeth was racing down the hallway as her father followed.
‘Mollie, sit down and stay there,’ said Emily firmly. But her hand was shaking as she reached for the teapot.
The policeman took off his hat. ‘Morning, Mr Williams, sorry to be here so early . . .’
‘That’s all right, Tom. Please take a seat.’ Harold led the way into the lounge room.