by Carol Coffey
“Too right he’s impressed. He’d be lucky to have you. Mind you, Kora, Jeff will have to ask me for your hand, seeing as I’m your only male relative.”
Kora is in no mood for jokes and stands up. She checks with my mother that she doesn’t need her tomorrow and walks down the pathway.
“Don’t forget what I said, Kora! He’ll need my permission!” my father laughs after her but she doesn’t look back.
“Andy, can’t you see how that’d annoy her?” my mother asks.
“What?” my father asks with a mock-innocent expression on his face.
My mother frowns. “She doesn’t really see us as her family. Don’t think she ever really will,” she sighs, looking out onto the road.
I watch my father move my mother’s hair back.
“You look tired. Aishling up?”
“Yeah. She’s not sleeping much. I’ve noticed that she seems smitten with Steve. I hope she’s not going to get hurt. She’s even stopped looking through the mail each morning.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Time she gave up on ever hearing from her family again. I can’t understand it. After all these years, you’d think they’d forgive her.”
My mother sighs. “That’s families for you. I suppose some things are too big to be forgiven.”
My father looks surprised and turns to look at her. “Is that the reverend’s daughter talking? If it is, I don’t recognise her.”
Mother smiles a strange smile. “Oh, it’s just hearing all these awful things that happened to people here. It’s really opened my eyes. Mina losing her baby and her husband in Indonesia and then coming here for a new life but ending up alone and frightened. You should have seen her face when Li’s son came into the kitchen. She almost fell over. She was convinced that he was a Japanese boy. Jimmy holding onto a grudge against Aboriginals when all along he should have been ashamed of his father’s behaviour. Father Hayes living his brother’s life and leaving behind his fiancée because his mother wanted a priest in the family – and of course poor Iren, as alone as Mina with only her memories of Aron and her son to comfort her. And we haven’t even got to Martin or Wilfred yet. God knows what happened to them!”
“Or what they did to others. There is another way to look at it, Emma. I mean, if Mina’s country hadn’t colonised Indonesia, she wouldn’t have been there when the Japanese invaded.”
My mother frowns and turns towards my father. “What? Are you saying it was Mina’s fault?”
Dad shakes his head. “No! . . . I’m just saying that sometimes tragedy can befall us as a consequence of our own choices.”
My mother thinks about what he says. I can see her tongue moving in her mouth.
“But Mina didn’t do anything wrong!” Mother retorts.
My father puts his hands to his head. He hadn’t intended to argue with my mother and I know he feels she is taking him up the wrong way.
“Emma . . . I didn’t mean, of course Mina didn’t . . .”
“What about Wilfred?” she interrupts.
My father can see where Mother is going with this and I can see him becoming tense.
“The same goes for Wilfred. If you do wrong, own up to it. There’s a lot of forgiveness in the world but people need to be honest about what they’ve done and, more importantly, they need to be sorry.”
My mother stiffens and I can see a row brewing. She looks into the garden and I duck further around the side of the house. I know it will be about me. It is always about me.
“Oh, and you’d know where you went wrong? What about Christopher? If you had let him go to the school, he wouldn’t have been on the train line that day!”
My father’s mouth drops open. Even though my mother has hinted at this before, this is the first time she has said exactly what she thinks.
“Emma,” he says as he tries to reach for her but she stands quickly and walks into the house, banging the screen door behind her.
He follows her so I move back onto the porch and look in. I can see her crying in his arms through the window of her office.
I watch them as my father kisses her on the forehead and they settle once again into the happy couple that I know they are.
“You look tired, love. You need more rest,” he says. I know he is avoiding the conversation they need to have about me and that, like the dead heat, it will continue to stifle the air until the rain comes.
I am disappointed as I want to hear what my father has to say about my accident and whether or not he feels sorry that he didn’t send me away where I would be safe from trains that I could not hear.
My mother looks out into the night. “I know but we can’t afford more staff, Andy. We’ll look at the books next month. See what we can do.”
Father nods. I know Father is working his magic on my mother and changing the subject but he is not insincere. He just finds it too difficult to talk about me.
“I know it’s hard seeing the residents recalling the awful things that happened to them but don’t you think it has done them some good? If you hadn’t heard Mina’s story, you’d never have thought to ask her to help in the kitchen – and look how she’s blossomed.”
Mother smiles but has that distant expression on her face that tells me she knows father is trying to appease her but she is tired and will go along with it for now.
“Yeah but she’s still stealing food. But – I know what you mean – it is getting better – she’s happier. She feels like she is more in control of her life when she can see the food. Oh, war! Look what it does to people!”
Father doesn’t answer and together they look out into the night, both lost in thought . . . both thinking about me.
The following morning, Greta arrives early for her shift and goes to the sisters’ bedroom first. She has dark lines under her eyes and I know she has been thinking of the sisters all night. They are already up and their door is slightly ajar. When she knocks, both sisters jump with fright and, for the first time, Greta understands why. She smiles sadly at the two, who are once again wearing matching dresses.
“Sorry, ladies. Just me. Tell you what? What if I was to have a secret knock so that you’d know it was me?”
Both sisters nod nervously.
“What if I did three quick knocks or a nice musical knock?”
Greta demonstrates on the door and the ladies smile like children.
“Yes!” they say happily and they choose their preferred knock.
I feel sorry for Penelope and Victoria. I know that I should not have been in the room when some of the things that happened to them were discussed but I am thirteen now and I understand more than people realise.
“Good,” Greta says.
I can see her looking at the ladies’ identical dresses but she chooses her battles and decides to tackle this another day.
“Penelope, can you do me a favour? It’s Wilfred’s birthday next week and you know how he loves the piano?”
Penelope shakes her head. She doesn’t know anything about Wilfred because he doesn’t speak to anyone.
“He plays the violin,” was all she could think of to say.
“I was wondering if you’d play for him. We’d all love to hear you play, wouldn’t we?”
Victoria starts to bite her lip and lowers her head quickly. She knows how Penelope will react.
Penelope jumps up from the bed and begins to shake. “I can’t. I can’t do it.”
Greta moves forward and places her hands firmly on Penelope’s shoulders, trying to steady her. “It’s all right. Don’t worry, Penelope. No one will force you to do anything you don’t want, okay?”
Penelope doesn’t seem to hear Greta and starts talking to herself. She is moving from foot to foot and she seems to be saying the same few words over and over again. “I’m not a dirty girl. I’m not a dirty girl.”
Greta moves back and sighs. “You coming down for breakfast, ladies?”
Penelope rushes from the room, glad to get away from her source of
discomfort, and runs to the stairs. Victoria lingers and I can see that familiar look of mischief in her eyes.
“Greta, I like my red dress.”
“I know, Victoria. It looks good on you.”
“Could you ask Penelope if it’s okay if I wear it?”
“Victoria, how old are you?”
“Em – it’s 1972 so I’m – sixty-four – no – sixty-five. Gosh, I don’t feel sixty-five!” Her expression changes from anxious to sad in an instant.
“So, who do you think should choose what you wear?”
Victoria swallows. “Me?” she asks, unsure if this is the correct response.
“Yes. You! You don’t ask anyone what you should wear – ever. You decide.”
“Yes but . . .”
Greta puts her hand up and stops Victoria from saying any more. She knows how to handle the women and knows that they each require a completely different approach.
“No buts, Victoria. You just put it on and pay no attention to what anyone says.”
Victoria nods but I can see that she is not convinced and badly wants someone to intervene for her. Greta beckons for her to come downstairs for breakfast.
When I follow, I find Kai in the kitchen with Mina learning how to make pancakes. She is bossing him around and once again, he is saying yes Ma’am, no Ma’am. For a moment I think that she is treating him as if he is a servant, but I am puzzled when she leans towards him and says, “You are too skinny. I know where we can get extra food,” and winks at him. I begin to laugh and hold my hand over my mouth. I am not sure who she thinks Kai is but I am glad to see that she is warming to him.
I make my way to the Penance Room where my mother is talking to Steve. There is no one to tell their story today as Wilfred will not come out of his room and Martin is still asleep.
A little later Steve makes himself a coffee and takes it out to the back yard. I know Aishling is there trying to catch some sun before it gets too hot to stay outside. I run up to my room and slyly watch them through my blinds. I cringe when Aishling smiles at Steve and moves over on the bench. He sits so close that his leg is touching off hers and I feel that familiar anger rising in me and burning my face.
“No one to confess today, eh?” she says and I feel she is mocking him.
“Nope,” he says. “I might get Part Two of your life though.”
Aishling laughs and rolls her head back. “Nothing else to tell, Father,” she smiles. “No further sins committed.”
I can see Steve looking up at me. He knows I am watching them. He knows everything.
“You never met anyone here then?”
Aishling shrugs and makes a strange shape with her lips. “Wasn’t really interested. I . . . guess I didn’t want it. I’m happy here. I try to keep my life simple. I work, I sleep and that’s about it really.”
“You plan to stay here forever? To cut yourself off from possibilities? Now, that’s living like Father Hayes.”
“I don’t really think that far ahead. I . . . I guess I don’t want to get hurt . . . or . . . to hurt anyone else. I like it here. Emma and Andy are good to me.”
Steve nods and looks like he is thinking about this.
“Tell me about Christopher,” he says.
I jump back from the window but I can see him looking up and I know he is teasing me. I want to open the window and tell Aishling to tell him nothing but I am frozen to the spot. He has no right.
Aishling lowers her eyebrows at him and seems taken by surprise. “What has Emma told you?” she asks, anxious not to betray her employer and friend’s confidence.
“Not much. She just seems – well – sad – that’s all.”
Aishling sighs heavily as she tries to decide where to begin.
“I was working here before Christopher was born, you know. He was such a cute baby but as he got older, well . . . he . . . he always seemed to know more than he should. He was always listening . . . or should I say watching. It unnerved some of the staff. They’ve all left now. I think Kora and I are the only long-term staff left. We all thought Emma and Andy exposed him to too much, you know, when patients were dying and that. At five, he could read anything. I mean it – any book. So smart.”
She is shaking her head now and I am hoping that she is not going to tell the bad stuff. I cross my fingers behind my back and pray.
“It was such a pity about his hearing. When he was a baby he had a lot of ear infections. Emma thought it was just the usual kid stuff, you know, glue ear and such – but it turned out to be something called a cholesteatoma. Emma and Andy could see that his hearing was deteriorating and organised for him to be seen by a specialist in Sydney. Before he ever got there he caught meningitis and lost what hearing he had left. He was about five then. It was so sad and . . . well . . . there’s nothing much more to tell really.”
I know that this is a sign that Aishling wants to change the subject but Steve ignores this.
“Does Emma blame Andy for his accident?”
“Did she say that to you?” Aishling asks, amazed.
“Not in so many words but she well – she looks so full of grief. I just thought . . .”
Aishling is uncomfortable and I take pleasure when I see her inch away from Steve.
“Steve . . . I don’t think Emma and Andy’s marriage is any of your business.”
Steve apologies and worms his way back. “Sorry. I just want to help. That’s all.”
Aishling looks closely at him but doesn’t smile. “Steve, it’s great that you are helping the residents and you have also helped me but don’t go asking Emma about Christopher. She still gets upset, even after all these years. She blames herself if you ask me, because she didn’t stand up to Andy and send Christopher somewhere safer. But they are happy. So don’t you go thinking anything else.”
Steve knows when he is beaten and looks briefly in my direction.
I grin back at him. Loser.
I know he is trying to ask more questions but he can see by Aishling’s demeanour that he will not get anywhere. He decides to change tactics and ask about my father.
“Has Andy been in Australia long?”
Aishling shrugs. “A few years before me, I think.”
“He came alone?”
Aishling looks at Steve and I can see that she thinks he asks too many questions. I can see her mind working and she sees no harm in telling Steve how my father came to be in Broken Hill.
“I think he came with a friend from college. Andy’s an engineer and when he graduated he got a job with an agency in Edinburgh to come here and work at the mine. He met Emma here and decided to stay but I think he misses home. He’s from an island off the north coast of Scotland, not so far from my part of the world. I know how he feels. It’s beautiful here and I would never want to leave Australia but a person with two homes is never happy. What you miss about there, you can never have here and vice versa. It’s like – like you’re torn between both countries and whatever choice you make, you lose something.”
Steve is looking into her face with interest. “Do you think he wants to go home?”
“Not now. After a while too much time passes and you really don’t belong anywhere. Home becomes part of your past, your history and you really can never go back.”
“Are you talking about yourself now or Andy?”
Aishling smiles. “Both. We often talk about home. Things change. I think – I think what you really miss is your youth, the time when there were other possibilities, when your life could have taken a different path.”
Steve nods. “And how does he feel about Christopher?”
Aishling suddenly looks annoyed. “God, what is it with you and Christopher?”
“I’m . . . just interested. I . . .”
Once again I feel that my feet are nailed to the floor. I don’t want to see what she says but I cannot move away.
Aishling shakes her head again. “He’s hurt, of course. What would you expect?” she says with an angry face
. “He wanted him to go to college . . . he pushed him all the way. He didn’t want him to go to a special school. He had someone come here to teach him. He was determined that Christopher become an engineer. Andy had come from a working-class family and he wanted to put that behind him.”
“Do you think he put too much pressure on such a young child?”
Aishling ignores Steve’s question.
“Do you think he should have sent him to that school? It sounds like he’d have been better off away from here,” he perseveres.
Aishling lets out a huge sigh.
“Overall, yes, but at the same time I think what would have been even better was for the community to accept him as he was so he could stay with his family . . . but he was so isolated . . .” She lowers her head. “Because Christopher didn’t go to school here he only had one or two friends, kids who lived on the other side of the train line and even they would shrug him off when it suited them. When he tried to mix with others, they made fun of him. He rarely spoke because he hated the sound of his voice. When his hearing went completely, he stopped speaking altogether. The kids were cruel and I think . . . well . . . that’s why things changed for him. Emma, Andy and I learnt to understand sign language but I know what the child really needed back then was friends, other kids who could understand him. He never slept well and started to cling to the adults around him.” She paused, brooding.
Steve beckons for her to go on.
“He changed. I think that he was depressed. He was so bright, always reading but I think this place had a bad effect on him. When he was about seven, he became obsessed with death and souls. Emma thought he’d follow in her father’s footsteps and lead a religious life but Andy thought he was unwell . . . mentally, you know. So poor Christopher – even at such a young age he was torn between keeping them both happy when in reality he was struggling to find his place in this world. I think he felt he was a disappointment even back then and when the accident occurred, well, it was the final straw for Emma and Andy. The future they had imagined was gone. I know that doesn’t paint them in a good light but you’d need to know them better. I . . . just don’t think they realised how hard things were for him . . . and I . . . I think they know now that they should have sent him to that school. If nothing else, he would have met other deaf children – he wouldn’t have been such a loner.”