The Penance Room

by Carol Coffey

  “So my family were part of the first Australians. We were first here. Before any of the wogs or Chinese got here, we were already here.”

  I can see the other residents shifting uncomfortably in their seats, even those whose English is not good. Everyone understands the word “wog”.

  Steve, unfamiliar with Jimmy’s personality, says “Well, the first Australians were actually the Aboriginals, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy scowls at him but continues. “Bloody Abbos. I’ll tell you a thing or two about them here and now.”

  Kora stands and leaves the room, ignoring my mother’s looks as she moves quickly past her and out the door. Jimmy hardly notices and keeps talking.

  “My great-great-grandfather earned his freedom and worked on farms all over New South Wales. He was an odd sort, had no regard for tradition, for keeping things right. Weren’t anyone else in the family like him before and I hope never after. When he was old enough, my great-grandfather, also named Thomas, tried to save for some land. He loved it. He bought a small station long way out east. Never got to see it myself although I always wanted to but he was too fond of the drink and lost it all. My great-grandmother moved into town with him but he was in bad health and he died before his son was old enough to remember him. That’d be my grandfather James Chapman. I was named after him. He drifted around and took work where he could. When he was twenty-five, he got work on a big station. Big place, lots of workers coming and going. He married my grandmother, June Hadley. She was an orphan. Her folks came out from England as free settlers but both died when she was only fifteen. She was sixteen when she married my grandfather who was a lot older than her and had my father when she was not yet eighteen. They lived a simple life but they had only one son, Nathan, my father. Even though my grand-father was getting on in years, he got work also keeping the peace in town. The Abbos would come in at night and get pissed and start fights.”

  My mother looks down at the ground and I know she is glad that Kora is not in the room. Steve stiffens but tries not to show his discomfort. Jimmy doesn’t notice the effect his words are having on people in the room, or perhaps he doesn’t care.

  “When my father was old enough, he took him with him to help out. Years later, when I was twelve, they went out one night to break up some fighting. There had been a lot of trouble from the natives and the police were trying to keep them calm. They were making complaints against the whites. Said we were harassing them and that sort of thing. Anyway, Grandfather wasn’t popular among the natives and some of the other settlers didn’t think it was a good idea that he went near them at all. Said he only stirred up trouble. My mother told me that she had a bad feeling that night. She said she begged him not to go. Some people are like that. They know things before they happen. She told me that as he went out the door she said: ‘Nathan, don’t go. Something bad is going to happen.’

  “Anyway, this Abbo came at him with a knife. My father was only trying to get them to get out of town, trying to send them packing back to the reserve. He tried to defend himself but got cut. He grabbed the knife and stabbed the Abbo and killed him. My mother said that the police took my father away and none of the other men would stand in his corner. They said my father started it. My father was arrested and locked up for trial.

  “Someone told my mother that my grandfather had been riling my father to do it, not to back down from the Abbo so she blamed my grandfather. She went to his house and told him she was leaving and that he’d never see his grandson again. She was bitter against my father as well because she was now without a man to provide for her. She only went to see him once in jail and that was only to tell him that she was leaving town. When she got there he told her that he heard the Abbo had the same name as himself ’cept it was spelt differently – ‘Natan’ – and he said, ‘I’ve killed myself.’ She said her goodbyes and ’cause she had no other kin she took to the road. That was around 1915. She had no money and she told me . . . she said she had to do whatever she could to get by.

  “She came to Broken Hill to work in a . . . guest house. I used to wait outside till she finished work . . . not a great start in life. I knew what she had to do. I understood and it sickened me.

  “She met her second husband then, Sam Young. She divorced my father or at least I think she did and she changed my name. Young was a widower, years older than her. He had no kids but a widowed female cousin lived with him at that time. Well, Young never took to me and everyone in the town knew I wasn’t his and he never let me forget it. When my mother bore no more children, he reluctantly left the farm to me but on the condition that I marry his cousin’s daughter. I was still so young but I had no choice but to do it. Young threatened to throw me off the land if I didn’t – said he’d leave it to a stranger first. My mother pleaded with me to do as he said or else she’d be on the street with me and she was not in good health so I did it for her. She was a tough woman. I was relieved when I was drafted because I got away from my wife and from Young for a while. Only time I felt free in my whole life and that was when bombs were being blown up all around me so that should tell you what a miserable excuse for a life I’ve had. So you see that Abbo, that Natan, ruined my father’s life and my mother’s and my life. Like I said, they’re no good.”

  Young looks at Steve and clasps his hands together. He looks pleased with himself and feels that he has explained his dislike of Aborigines and therefore of Kora. He doesn’t understand the look on Steve’s face, a look of disbelief.

  “Jimmy, do you really think that your problems were caused by that Aboriginal? Have you ever thought that your father should not have killed this man? Or even thought about the effect that man’s death had on his family?”

  Jimmy raises his eyebrows at Steve. “Haven’t you been listening? He attacked my father. He ruined our lives.”

  Steve sits back and clasps his hands together as though in prayer.

  I can see he has no idea where to start with Jimmy.

  “Did you not think that it was your own father’s actions that ruined your lives?” said Steve. “That you should instead be ashamed of your father and grandfather?”

  Jimmy’s tongue moves from his mouth and for a few seconds it looks as though he is sticking it out at Steve. His eyes bulge and his face reddens. He puts his hand to his mouth and leans forward as a cough racks his body. He tries to answer Steve and splutters “No – now – you – you listen here!” but the cough overcomes him and he looks as though he cannot breathe.

  My mother jumps up and tries to help him but he falls sideways off his chair onto the floor, gasping. She shouts for Kora as Greta runs to phone Doctor Alder and Jeff. As he is lifted up, drool pours out of the side of his mouth.

  “He’s had another stroke,” my mother says quietly.

  An ambulance arrives and while they are lifting Jimmy into the back, Jeff pulls up quickly and jumps into the ambulance. He asks Kora to ride with him but she moves a few steps back and shakes her head. Even though she didn’t stay for Jimmy’s story, his rude remarks earlier have made her doubt that they will ever get along.

  My mother looks upset and says to Greta, “Just when they were getting along again.”

  When we all go back inside, Kora takes up her bag up and walks to the door.

  “You going to sit with Jeff?” my mother asks and she nods.

  “I just didn’t want to ride with them. Doubt the old man would have wanted me there.”

  My mother nods and sits down exhausted in her office chair. Her face is pale and there are dark lines under her eyes. Li brings her a coffee and she takes it in both hands, warming herself despite the heat of the day. I stand in the doorway half-watching my mother’s conversation with Li while looking out for Steve who is still in the Penance Room.

  “Thanks, Li,” my mother says. “I hope we didn’t cause Jimmy’s stroke. I had reservations about all of this storytelling but Christopher seemed to want it so I thought . . .”

  Li looks closely at my mother. “Em
ma, are you all right?”

  “Yes – yes – I’m fine. It’s just . . . I’m afraid this reminiscing is doing the residents harm.”

  Li stands for a moment and moves her lips back and forth, translating her next sentence from Mandarin to English.

  “It is never too late for change and for accepting things,” she replies as she leaves the office, frowning.

  My mother watches her leave and looks confused by Li’s words. She shakes her head and curves her back into the chair, looking out of the window. The sun is beaming in and she squints at a large cobweb in the corner of the window-pane. A fly is trapped in the middle of the web and is struggling to get out.

  “I know how you feel,” she says as she takes another sip of her drink.

  A sudden knock on the half-open door makes my mother sit upright and brings her back from her daydream.

  It is Steve.

  “Guess I’ll push off.”

  “Oh Steve, em . . . yes . . .” she replies sighing. “Come in.”

  Steve sits down in what is normally my chair and once again I feel uncomfortable. I am sitting on the window sill enjoying the heat. He looks at me and smiles with those brilliant blue eyes. He leans back and makes himself comfortable, waiting on my mother to gather her thoughts.

  “Steve . . . I’m not sure this is such a good idea. I . . . well, it’s worked out for Mina . . . but some of the others, they’ve led dark lives. Some of them have a lot of regrets and well, you saw the effect it had on Jimmy. I’m – I’m worried about it. I’m thinking of . . . cancelling the others telling their stories.”

  I jump from my seat and feel the panic rising in my chest. I am thinking, no, Mother, please! She doesn’t understand that their salvation might also be mine. There are things I have kept to myself. Things even my mother doesn’t know. Steve decides to put words to my fear. Almost word for word, he speaks my thoughts and leaves me open-mouthed.

  “Emma, is everyone not entitled to their salvation? Is the salvation of the residents not connected to the salvation of everyone here?”

  He gives me a little look and takes pleasure in my eyes appealing to him to keep going. My mother puts her hand to her locket as she always does when she is anxious.

  “You sound like my father. I thought you were a historian, not a preacher,” she says.

  I cannot read her face. She is wearing an expression I have not seen before. I decide her look is one of unease.

  Steve beams one of his bright smiles that Aishling seems to like. “Yes. I am a historian but I’m also a sociologist. I have an interest in people’s pasts and how they’ve dealt with life. I have my own secrets, as do we all,” he laughs.

  I can see he has my mother’s attention. She leans forward.

  “Steve, how many other nursing homes are you visiting?”

  Steve shrugs and stretches his arms out above his head. “Oh about thirty, give or take. I plan to be out of here by next week. Next stop, back to Bourke, then down to Dubbo, Orange and then up again to Tamworth.” He is still smiling. “You know, sometimes I get to a place and I get a sense of . . .” Steve looks at me and I know his words are directed more at me than at my mother. “A deep sense of loss. I get a sense that there is work I can do to help the people I meet, to reach out to them. All most people are looking for is a bit of understanding and a lot of forgiveness. It wouldn’t be right for you or me to stand in the way of that.”

  “Catholic?” my mothers asks, smiling. Steve now has her eating out of his hands.

  “Shows that bad, eh?”

  My mother laughs. “I’m a preacher’s daughter,” she smiles.

  “Yes, that’s right. Evangelical?”

  “Yes.”

  Steve stands. He senses that he has won this battle. He can see my mother is a woman of intuition and that for now she will let him carry on.

  “So I can come back tomorrow?” he asks. I can see a deep furrow in his forehead.

  My mother nods. “Yes. But only if it doesn’t cause distress. Who’s up next?”

  “Em, your Iren.”

  “Iren?” my mother asks, surprised.

  “Yes, her friend Mr Berman is coming to help her but she speaks fluent French so I can translate for her.”

  “Iren speaks French? I never knew that!”

  “Yeah. I was in the lounge room teaching Aishling a few words and all of a sudden Iren sits up in her chair and starts speaking to me in fluent French. Seems that she spoke French before she ever learned English.”

  My mother is shaking her head. “I never knew . . .”

  When Steve leaves, my mother flops back into the chair and places her hand under her chin. I know what is on her mind. She is thinking that she will have to open her eyes more around here. But she doesn’t have to worry. That’s what she has me for.

  I leave my mother to her thoughts and take the twenty-minute walk down to the mine’s entrance. Sometimes I like to wait for my father to finish work and to ride home with him. I like to see him full of red dust and dirt although I don’t like to think of him underneath the ground. He told my mother she doesn’t need to worry. As an engineer, he doesn’t spend too much time below ground and mostly he just sees that the work is going to schedule. When he finally comes out I am already sitting in his open truck on the site.

  My father jumps in and lets out a breath of air. “What a day!” he says.

  He turns the radio on and immediately launches into song. I like seeing my father here because he seems happy. But something happens as he approaches our house. Little by little, his shoulders drop forward and a sad expression moves over his sunburnt face. Sometimes he rubs his hands through his hair as if he is trying to find an answer to his problems. I know that the nursing home needs more money but it would be foolish of me to think that this is why my father looks so sad. My father is sad because of me. Sometimes I spend the entire journey home looking sideways at him and trying to mouth the words of the song he is singing, even if I am a few seconds behind in the words or perhaps I have got them wrong altogether. My father knows that I will never sing the songs he loves so much, nor will I play the fiddle like he does. One of the wishes that I make in the park is for my parents to have another baby, a son or daughter who can hear and who can sing songs and play musical instruments but there is a part of me that doesn’t think that this wish will ever come true.

  When we walk together up the garden path, my mother comes out and tells my father about Jimmy. I can see his shoulders drop even further forward and notice how much smaller he looks as we enter the house. It is as if this house and all its problems is eating him up. He hugs my mother and they stand there in the fading light. He smooths out her hair and whispers something to her. She smiles sadly and opens the screen door for him. He follows his usual ritual and has a shower before walking down to Wilfred’s room for a chat while my mother heats up his dinner. I climb the stairs to my room and as I gaze out at the railway line I hate it for changing everything, for making my father and mother unhappy but most of all I hate myself for my stupidity. I open my mouth and say words out loud, something I rarely do.

  I say: “I will make it up to you. I promise.”

  Chapter 16

  The following morning Jeff and Kora arrive home exhausted and make their way to the kitchen to tell my mother the news. They have sat at Jimmy’s bedside all night but he has not regained consciousness. Breakfast is over but my mother makes them some scrambled eggs and sits down to hear about Jimmy. After Jeff tells her about his father’s condition, my mother asks the question that kept us both awake last night.

  “Did anyone tell you what your father told Steve yesterday? About his past?”

  Jeff shakes his head. “No, but I heard it all before. I know how he feels about Aboriginals and it doesn’t matter what he believes. He’s an old man. Times have moved on.” He looks at Kora but she continues to stare at the kitchen wall with a sad expression on her face.

  “They haven’t changed that much,”
Kora says. She looks down and wraps her fingers around the coffee cup.

  “Maybe to some,” Jeff said quickly. “But to most, to the people that matter, it’s not important what colour a person’s skin is.”

  Kora doesn’t answer but my mother smiles. It is the most we have ever heard Jeff say in one sitting. Kora sighs and looks away from Jeff. I know that she is thinking that their relationship will never work, that neither of them will be strong enough to put up with Jimmy’s prejudice.

  When Mina wheels her walking frame into the kitchen, Jeff and Kora leave but I stay with my mother who wants to wait until Li clears up the dining room before leaving Mina in the kitchen alone. Mina immediately opens the pantry door and starts counting the bags of flour and other dry goods. She looks back to ensure that my mother is busy and puts a packet of cookies into her skirt pocket. My mother notices this and points discreetly at the thief when Li enters the kitchen to plan lunch with Mina. Li raises her eyes up to heaven but smiles at the same time. She has decided to ignore Mina’s stealing in the hope that a few more weeks in the kitchen will reassure her that the food will not run out.

  I feel the familiar rush of air as the front door bangs and run to see if Steve has arrived, but it is Mr Berman who has come to help Iren with her story. As her advocate he has signed Steve’s consent form on her behalf. Steve arrives soon after and Aishling comes downstairs to greet him. I watch Aishling for a moment and stare at her long white legs below her uniform skirt. I know Steve is watching me so I turn away and try to remember Maria’s kiss instead but I cannot. It seems that when I am apart from her, her memory fades and only returns when I walk to her street and see her standing on her favourite corner, looking for what I will never know and probably will never have the courage to ask.

  Aishling asks Steve if he’d like to go out on Friday night. He is due to leave soon and I wonder briefly if she will be sad. Everyone assembles in the lounge room and I take my usual spot on the pew under the window. Steve speaks to Iren in French and she nods at him. She looks more awake that I have ever seen her and I wonder if her language problems have made her seem more confused than she is. I understand what it is like when nobody can communicate with you and how people think you are odd or stupid. I watch my mother look at Iren’s face lighting up and know she is thinking about this too. Mr Berman starts first and speaks clearly into the microphone. Kora once said that he speaks exactly like Wilfred and I wish that I knew what this meant. I wish I had a chance to hear all these wonderful voices around me.