‘The man at the desk was looking at me strangely, and I found his expressions very easy to read, that’s all. I simply told him he wouldn’t be a good poker player.’
The Minister chuckled – but with diplomacy.
‘Well, how are you, Miss Sparrow?’
‘Aria . . .’
‘Very well, Aria. I don’t have a great deal of time, so we’d better get started.’
‘I simply need to know how long we must live at the Camp.’
The Minister thumbed through a file. Presumably ours.
‘Why do you think your case is different from all the others?’
‘My mother will die there. I believe others have died in that terrible place, and I don’t want my mother to be one of them.’
‘Why didn’t your mother come to see me?’
‘She’s shy, and ashamed to be in that position.’ I made myself comfortable in the chair opposite his desk and peeled off my gloves.
‘I must say that you look very nice, Aria. A breath of fresh air in this old place. In fact you hold yourself so well you could easily be a princess. You are beautifully poised.’
‘I know.’
‘You don’t mind me saying that, I hope?’
‘Not at all . . . No one has ever said such a nice thing to me before.’ Ho, ho.
‘You gave the secretary the card of the South American Consul General. I have spoken to the man very briefly. I can’t say I am a friend. How did you meet him?’
‘I met him at a charity party. He gave them a great deal of money.’
‘A charity party?’
‘Mrs T’s. I was one of the models in a parade to raise money.’
‘The Consul General certainly has an eye for beauty. How old are you, Aria?’
‘Eighteen. Why do you ask?’
‘Aaah, eighteen. To be eighteen again . . . But in your case, I would say, eighteen with the mind of someone much older and wiser.’
‘If you say so.’ I looked directly into his eyes. ‘It’s not just my mother I worry about, Minister. I have a young sister who is becoming ill. Hanora – my mother – and Rose simply don’t have the stamina to exist in that place for much longer. And winter is coming. The Camp will be so cold in winter. What if they both die?’ Somehow my eyes managed a tear. I swear I had nothing to do with it – at least I don’t think so. ‘It must be very awkward for the government when people die in the Housing Camps, and I know they do. Of course I’m aware of all the others who suffer as we do in that terrible place.’
He was silent for a moment.
‘We are constantly aware of the difficulties and the welfare of the homeless, Aria.’
Another silence while he shuffled through the file.
‘It must be very peculiar for you to attend charity parties with diplomats and then have to return to the Camp. You must feel a bit like Cinderella after the ball. I do sympathise, Aria, I sincerely sympathise, but I – that is, the department – cannot be seen to be preferring one over another.’ My hands were on the desk, resting on my purse. The Minister leaned over and laid his hands on mine. I didn’t move an inch. Not even a twitch. There’d been no surprises so far. ‘But I have given your case some thought, Aria . . .’ The slightest squeeze. ‘And I do think it would be most unfortunate for three women – well, two – in poor health and alone to be housed in that Camp for too much longer. I’ll tell you what I’ll do . . .’
‘What is that?’
‘I will move you up the list.’
‘Oh, it could be years!’
‘Not necessarily. The department is in the process of building two small blocks of flats on the old Holt Estate, not very far from where you are now. It will be a few months before they’re ready. I think I may be able to accommodate you there, but you’d have to manage the winter somehow.’
‘If we have to, we will. I think I know that estate. It would suit very well. If you could please put us down for a flat there we’ll simply manage somehow. Winter would be a little easier to bear if we knew we were to be moved.’
‘I will try, Aria.’
‘You can do anything you want. You’re the Minister.’
‘It’s very difficult to argue with you, Aria Sparrow.’
‘Yes, I know.’
The Minister wrote something on a pad, tore it off and buzzed. Pin-stripes came in and took it.
‘Arrange this for me, James, would you?’ And James, with another brief exchange of glances with the ceiling, left the office and shut the door. ‘We can’t have your mother and sister at risk. I seem to remember that your sister has some sort of skin complaint.’
‘Yes.’ Then I thought of Tom Gardiner’s wife and felt guilty. I felt guilty then for not raising a flag for all of them, but I dared not disturb things as they were.
‘Then rest easy, Aria. When the Holt Estate is completed, a flat will be offered to you.’
‘Thank you very, very much,’ I said. ‘I wish I could afford to give you a nice gift or something in return, but I have nothing.’
‘Not all politicians take money for favours, Aria.’ He laughed to let me know he was only joking – and I laughed because I knew he wasn’t. ‘But you could give me a little kiss for it.’ He sat back in his chair and smiled. It was a loose smile, down one side of his face like a palsy, and wet at the corners. Probably something like the smile Rosy was offered before she was knocked up.
But back to realities! Of course he wants a kiss for it.
I moved around to his chair. I thought of Leon and pecked the Minister on the cheek.
‘A proper one . . .’ He put his hands on my arms.
I closed my eyes and thought of Hanora and Rosy. I thought of Tom Gardiner and Mr Biddle and all the rest of them.
His mouth was sloppy, but I managed somehow. In the back of my mind was the secretary outside with his orders, and I knew the orders could be torn up at the drop of a hat.
‘I really do have to get back to the studio,’ I said. I was longing to wash out my mouth.
‘Would you like a little drink before you go, Aria?’ It didn’t sound to me exactly like a question.
‘Just a tiny one.’
The Minister poured a small glass of sherry. I thought he’d at least have champagne in a fridge, after all the trouble I went to with the maggots in his rissoles.
‘I don’t usually drink while I’m working, but perhaps we’ll meet again and have more time to – talk about things.’
I drank my sherry too quickly. Everything suddenly seemed to be going too quickly. Mission accomplished, and I was impatient to leave. I forced myself to slow down.
‘I’m terribly grateful to you, Minister. You’ll promise you won’t forget the flat, will you?’
‘It has already been arranged, Aria. It won’t be forgotten.’ He licked his lips, and for a moment he reminded me of Mr Kellog. There was white spittle on the tip of his tongue, but no bran was visible. He smiled and patted his lap. I pretended not to notice anything at all.
‘You are a dear man, but I really do have to go. They’re waiting for me at Boston’s. I can’t possibly afford to lose my job. You might have time to call in one day and see us – visit your friend Mr Boston, and perhaps watch us working, of course.’ I moved to his chair and gave his shoulders a little squeeze, and pecked him on the cheek again.
‘A pity – a pity,’ said the Minister. ‘You’re such a beautiful girl – I’d like to have you much, much closer to me.’ He hadn’t moved from his chair. His breathing had become wheezy, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t asthma. ‘Perhaps another time . . .’
‘I hope your wife is well?’ I said.
‘Yes, she’s quite well.’ He answered as though I’d just reminded him about a dental appointment. I bent down and pecked the top of his head.
‘I do really have to go – really! By the way, did you know your fly was open? I think you’d better tuck yourself back in.’ Not that there was much to tuck in. I would like to have added that I didn’t
care to sit on laps with open flies, but of course I didn’t say anything of the kind. ‘And I expect I shouldn’t tell anyone about this meeting, should I? I mean, it would look very bad. It could be misinterpreted, don’t you think so? In fact, I wonder if I should even tell my mother and sister, except for the good news, of course.’ I slid my gloves on and picked up my purse. ‘You won’t forget our agreement, will you, Minister?’
‘No, Aria. I won’t forget.’ He was adjusting himself with difficulty.
‘And a flat upstairs would be nice. A top one, for the views.’
‘A flat upstairs. Of course. With views.’ He drained his sherry glass. I had poured mine down my beak long before. ‘You are a very unusual young woman, Miss Sparrow.’
‘I know.’
‘What has made you so – so much older than you really are?’
‘I’ve had to be tough as leather for as long as I can remember. Instead of dolls I had screwdrivers.’
‘Somehow I think a screwdriver might have been your preferred toy,’ he said with a smile.
‘Then we could have something in common there, Minister. As a politician I imagine you would not be unfamiliar with such a tool.’
And I left him with his head in his hands and grinning in a way. I imagine he would have been more embarrassed than frustrated, but his thin grey hair fell like a fringe and covered his eyes so I was not sure. On the way to the lift I thanked the secretary and smiled. He had the audacity to stick up his thumb and wink.
‘Yes, it is wonderful news. Will you direct me to the ladies room, please?’
‘Down the hall and to the right.’
‘Thank you.’
I wished I had brought a toothbrush.
*
It was nearly five o’clock when I returned to the studio. Leon had managed to put off the last ‘loving’ until the next day. It was for a soap ‘that cuts out BO’. Poor Leon.
‘Are they out there building a palace for you, or weren’t the plans complete?’
‘Bit of a sticky situation here and there, Leon, but it all went fairly well, I thought. There were no surprises at all. We’ll have to wait a few months, though. That means winter in the corrugated ice boxes.’
‘Do you think the Minister has caught his breath yet?’
‘Possibly not.’
‘Are you going to tell me all the gory details?’
‘No. And there are no gory details to tell you.’
‘Then I’ll make them up.’ Leon gave me an envelope. ‘Surprise! You’re parading next Saturday.’
‘Oh, Leon! That’s perfect. Where?’ I tore open the envelope.
‘Newcastle – all expenses paid. A new store opening!’
‘Oh, Leon, look at this! I’m doing the swimsuits, skirts and sweaters, and look who’ll be with me . . .’
‘I know. You’ve struck oil again. More coathangers, I imagine.’
‘I’ll probably be nervous for this one.’
‘You? No you won’t. Let’s go and have a drink somewhere to celebrate.’
‘I’d love it. It’s been a pretty good day all round.’
*
As small as the studio dressing room and as ordinary as the studio was, I often did feel like Cinderella sprinting from the palace after midnight to a slum with a fireplace, soot and brooms. No mice so far. But even Cinderella’s house was a proper house, with walls that were not made of corrugated iron and a fireplace that was not a smoking fuel stove with a crooked flue. And where the bloody hell was my fairy godmother? I’d never had a saviour. I dreamed once, a very long time ago, that she might have looked like the good witch in The Wizard of Oz, but I have never had a creature of any kind come and say to me, I will be your patron; I am here to help you. Never! I’d always imagined I was put into a crib after my birth and the midwife said: There you go little one. Here’s a screwdriver and a pair of pliers. You’re on your own from now on – good luck!
One of the washerwomen asked me one day why I didn’t leave the Camp for something more ‘normal’, but I explained that I could not leave Rosy and my mother to struggle on, even if there was enough money to do so – and, for that matter, if there was somewhere else to go and someone else to go to. There were no other family members to take me in. But in truth I have to admit to a pretty strong sense of loyalty and protection towards the only people I belonged to, flawed as we all were. I’d always seen myself as the holder of the screwdriver, ready to repair the shattered parts of the others. It was probably an unnecessary shining-knight character I’d dreamed up, but that’s how I felt.
In the cold reality of life in the Camp and 19B Edward, I was naturally uncomfortable about my visit to the Minister. The outcome would have been expected. The method leading to the outcome would have been expected. I’ve always toughed things out because it is expected of me. I’m a sparrow, not a dove, and a sparrow whose sharp eyes have not missed a trick most of the time. Whether it’s all bravado – a pretence – I’m not sure. Out of necessity I do things I’d sometimes rather not have done, and say things I’d rather not have said, as though I have been trained. While jumping through hoops for the Minister my trained heart rate had barely risen a beat. Becoming an actor had often been suggested to me, but I think I give better performances in real life. It is sometimes terrifying to be unusual. It is often very painful to be me.
I’m sure Hanora would have hoped for the best during my interview with the Minister, while turning a half-guilty eye to whatever method was required to achieve it. Rosy told me she’d been sure I’d charm the boots off him. I wish, though, it could have been a crusade for all the Camp’s inmates. I felt a bit like a traitor. I could have achieved much more, I thought, but then I would have had to give a lot more.
After I reported the events of the afternoon, Hanora was overjoyed and Rosy said: ‘It’s such terrific news, Aria. I knew you’d do it. Was it very difficult for you? Did he behave himself?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Did he expect something in return?’
‘What do you think?!’
‘I’m not sure we understand, love. I think Rosy means was it just an interview, or did he make advances? You’re very beautiful and he is, after all, a man. Was it unpleasant? Difficult?’ With big, brown, almost innocent sparrow eyes, she asked this question.
‘What did you expect, Hanora?’
‘Aria?’
‘What?!’
‘I can’t tell you how grateful we are, love. We think you’re terribly brave. Men are sometimes hard to understand.’
‘What’s to understand? They’re all basically bloody asses, and I don’t try to fathom how humans who are all balls and no brains are able to normally exist – I’m too busy trying to understand me.’
‘I hope you didn’t think I’d sent you there to offer favours, love?’
‘In a way, I did. Of course I did. You even told me what to wear.’
‘Aria?’ whispered Hanora guiltily.
‘Why didn’t you go, then?’
‘Aria!’ said Rosy. Hanora’s eyes filled with tears.
‘I’m not sorry.’
Was there a price to pay? Well, yes, of course there was a price to pay. Hanora knew it but was desperate, and Rosy knew it but was desperate; the Minister knew it and expected it, and I knew it but was prepared. It must be something younger sparrows do when the rest of the flock age or become weak. I imagine that’s how it goes. Of course I could have been mistaken. But to tell the truth I had become suddenly very tired, and sick of ‘fixing’ things. I was tired of the screwdriver story. I think I’d rather like to have been able to say I had a favourite sleepy doll with blue eyes with lashes and a lace dress, called Mary Lou, or something. However, I more or less forgave them. I just wanted them to know I had been used. I wanted them to know I knew I’d been used.
‘Well, let’s forget about all that and cheer up. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all,’ I said. ‘There are white muslin curtains to look forward to.’
‘But we will have to prepare ourselves for winter,’ I said.
‘We’ll manage somehow, love. It’s a wonderfully kind and brave thing you’ve done. I will ask Mr Sparkle to advise on protection during the winter months.’
‘Isn’t he packing up to leave?’
‘Not for a week or two, and even then he won’t be far away.’
‘My other big news is, da-da, I have a parade in a new store opening in Newcastle next Saturday. Isn’t that great? There will be leading models there. I’m doing the leisure wear. All expenses paid, including hotel. I’ll be parading with real models again.’
‘Lovely,’ said Hanora. ‘But I’ve always thought of you as a real model. Will they pay you for the parade?’
‘Yes, of course they’ll pay me! But don’t you think it’s great news? I think we might have a better life in a few months. We’re eating better now, aren’t we? The pay is quite good for these parades.’
‘Lovely!’ said Hanora. ‘I must tell you that Rosy has made the nicest “mistake” for me, love. She must show it to you.’
‘Lovely!’ I said – and if that sounded sarcastic, I couldn’t have cared less.
*
The Book Saver’s Lemon Gum continued to thrive. Its growth was a surprise to all of us, when all around it was dust. Mr Sparkle said its roots must have found some richness deep in the earth. Well, I’d expected there had to be something under the dust of our ground. There had to be stratas in everything earthy, miles deep under the huts and the dust. Possibly an old latrine from the war years might have attracted a tree root, but I liked to think there was something a lot more interesting under the dust that the wind blew in our faces one minute and then stirred into wet mud, thick as clay under our feet the next. I was sure the blacks in Queen Street would have been able to tell me what was beneath the dust of our earth. But then, a lot of them had been urban dwellers for too long and would have lost most of the knowledge of their earth. Pity.
*
It seemed that Tom Gardiner had become accustomed to Hanora’s reading. She said he liked poetry better than anything else. She moved a little closer to him week by week and he didn’t mind. She assured him that she would keep away from the pit. Hanora of course never once suggested to Mr Gardiner that the pit existed only in his mind, like his wife’s terrible itch.
The Sparrows of Edward Street Page 21