Ruby put down her bucket and started to run.
The four Wests were standing in the yard, and the other children were surging around them. ‘Go home!’ they were shouting. ‘Go home!’
‘Jailbirds!’ shrieked Doris, her face red with excitement. ‘Jailbirds! Jailbirds!’
‘Get out of our school!’ screamed Verna. ‘We don’t want you here!’
‘Ink, pink, pen and ink!’ chanted a group of younger children, prancing up and down, stamping in puddles. ‘I smell a great big stink!’
Not all the children were taking part. Most of the Grade Sevens stood to one side, watching. Bee and Ant were next to them, wide-eyed.
‘It’s awful! It’s so awful!’ Bee was saying.
‘What’s happened?’ Ruby demanded. ‘What’s everybody doing?’
‘It’s Darcy West,’ Eric said. ‘Seems like he found Josie crying, and he reckoned someone was being mean to her, so he started chucking stones. Some of the kids were getting pretty riled at him, so Bob and Clive picked him up and barricaded him in one of the cubicles in the boys’ dunny. They left him there to cool off, but he got out through the window and started throwing stones again. He caught Verna Pfeiffer a beauty on the arm.’
‘But what have Cynthia and Virginia done, to be treated like . . . like criminals?’ Ruby protested. ‘Or poor little Josie?’
‘Nothing, I s’pose,’ Eric replied. ‘But they’re all the same, aren’t they? Regular trouble-makers. Tom Evans has gone to get Mr Miller. He won’t be too pleased.’
I should help them, Ruby thought. What’s happening is cruel and beastly. Cynthia is my friend, and little Josie. . .Somebody should stand up for them, and if I don’t do it, nobody else will. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t even breathe properly. Without warning, the shouting, the hatred, the angry faces had dragged her back to the horror of the Victoria Square riots. She felt shaky and sick.
And then a panicky voice started up in her head. ‘Whose side are you on?’ it demanded. ‘You’ve just started to be accepted at this school. If you join the Wests, everyone will think you’re the same as they are. You’ll be an outsider again. Is that what you want?’
Ruby was torn in two. As she stood there, paralysed and hating herself for her weakness, the rain started to fall more heavily. The three West girls huddled closer together. Only Darcy stood alone, his fists clenched.
‘Go home!’ shouted the crowd. ‘Go home! Go home! Now!’
Cynthia bent down to whisper to her little sisters. Then she raised her head. ‘We’re going,’ she said, speaking loudly to be heard over all the noise. ‘But we haven’t done nothing to deserve this, and you know it.’ She picked Josie up and settled her on her hip. ‘Come on, Ginia. Come on, Darcy. Let’s get out of here.’
There was sudden silence as the little group walked across the yard towards the school gate. Somebody threw a stone after them.
‘Hooray!’ yelled Doris, leaping up and down and clapping her hands. ‘We got rid of them! And don’t come back!’ she shouted.
Other children began to cheer, kicking puddles and running in circles. ‘Don’t come back! Don’t come back!’ they chanted.
‘Silence!’ thundered Mr Miller, storming across the schoolyard. ‘What in the name of heaven is the meaning of this? Shame on you – all of you! Get back to your classroom right now!’
‘Sir, we weren’t –’
‘Sir, they asked for it, sir.’
‘Sorry, sir.’
‘At once!’ roared the teacher.
Silent now, the children drifted away from the schoolyard. Inside the classroom there was a noisy creaking and thumping as desk seats were lowered. A log on the fire burst, showering the stone hearth with sparks.
‘Who started this?’ asked Mr Miller.
Nobody spoke.
‘Come on, come on. I don’t have all day.’
Doris put her hand up. ‘Sir, it was Darcy West’s fault,’ she said. ‘He was chucking stones at everybody. Verna almost got her arm broke, didn’t you, Verna? Someone could’ve got killed. So we . . . we told the Wests they should leave, sir. We don’t need their kind here.’
‘Thank you, Doris. If what you say about Darcy is true, it’s very serious. But I must point out that it’s up to me to punish bad behaviour. It is not up to you children to become a lynch mob. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Doris said, blushing and lowering her lashes. ‘But, sir, what they did was pretty bad, wasn’t it?’
Mr Miller frowned. ‘So far I’ve only heard that one person was involved, and that was Darcy West. Can anybody tell me why Darcy was throwing stones in the first place?’
Everybody looked at everybody else.
‘It seems like he just got mad,’ Lorna volunteered at last. ‘He’s got a real temper on him. Some of the boys tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t stop, and it was scary for the little kids. Will Darcy get the strap, sir?’
‘That will be my decision.’ Mr Miller looked grim. ‘This is a disgraceful incident, and I intend to get to the bottom of it. Now let us get back to our lessons.’
As he turned to write on the blackboard, there was a lot of grinning and shuffling, and two of the Grade Six boys punched each other in triumph. ‘That’ll teach the little beggar,’ one of them said.
Then Ruby heard Doris, in front of her, whispering over the aisle to Verna, ‘That’ll be the end of the Wests, I bet. They won’t dare to come back now.’
Ruby looked at the empty seat next to her. There was hardly anything on Cynthia’s side of the desk: just a pen with a chewed handle, an inky scrap of blotting paper, and a lined exercise book. It was the only exercise book Cynthia owned.
Suddenly Ruby felt a huge wave of anger, and she knew immediately that it was the right sort of anger. She stood up, her seat banging behind her. ‘Sir,’ she said loudly. ‘Please, sir.’
Mr Miller swung around. ‘What is it, Ruby?’
Ruby could see all the faces staring at her – some curious, some hostile. ‘Oh my hat, she thought. Can I do this? Am I strong enough?
She lifted her chin so that she was looking straight at the teacher.
‘Sir, I think I know what happened,’ she said. ‘Darcy found out that Josie was being picked on. Somebody took some scraps that belonged to her. I found them in the girls’ lavatories, all ripped up, and I know they were Josie’s because it was me who gave them to her in the first place. Darcy shouldn’t have thrown stones, but there was a reason for it. And none of the others did anything wrong at all, I’ll swear to it. Everyone’s just mean to them because they don’t fit in, and because of their father.’
‘I understand what you’re saying, Ruby.’ Mr Miller’s stern expression relaxed a little. ‘I don’t entirely know the rights and wrongs of this situation, but I do know that all children have an equal right to an education. The Wests should not have been bullied and hounded from the school. It was very wrong. They must be encouraged to return.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Ruby said, relieved.
‘Well, what do you think we should do about this, Miss Ruby Quinlan?’
The idea came to Ruby at the same moment as she said it. ‘I’m going after them, sir. To explain, and tell them to come back.’
Another seat banged as May stood up. ‘Ruby, you don’t know where they live,’ she said. ‘I’m coming with you.’
THE road was empty, with no sign of the Wests. They must be home already, Ruby thought. She and May didn’t hurry. They walked carefully in the slippery mud, skipping around puddles, avoiding overhanging tree branches. The rain had settled to a slow but constant drizzle. Although both girls had covered their heads and shoulders with old wheatbags cut open to form capes, they were soon drenched.
‘Why are we doing this, exactly?’ May asked Ruby. ‘When we get to the Wests, what are we going to say to them?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Ruby said. ‘I think we should say what Mr Miller said, you know, about how they should come back to scho
ol. And we should tell them that we’re sorry about what happened.’
‘We’re sorry. But not everyone is, are they? Lots of people don’t want the Wests here at all.’
‘It’s so unfair, though,’ Ruby said. ‘They can’t help being poor, and the children can’t help what their father did.’
‘Of course it’s unfair,’ replied May. ‘But I’d say you were the only person at school who wanted to have anything to do with them. It’s funny, isn’t it, how people think if someone’s been in prison it’s like their whole family has a disease or something.’
Ruby walked on for a while without speaking. Then she said, ‘I know how it feels to be left out. The Wests are even worse outsiders than I was.’
‘I suppose so,’ May said. ‘You had a hard time when you started off, didn’t you? I should have been nicer to you, and I wasn’t. I suppose I thought I was paying you back. I’m not too proud of that now.’
Suddenly Ruby felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. ‘We both did things we’re not proud of,’ she said. ‘But that’s all over now, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said May. ‘It is.’
The Wests lived in a small stone cottage on the side of a hill. The roof was tiled in slate, with a few of the tiles missing. From the outside the building seemed empty, the windows blank.
What a sad little house, Ruby thought. It needs a garden with flowers and veggies. It needs to have the door painted, and curtains at the windows, and some trees . . . She stared at it. Something about the place was familiar. ‘I couldn’t have been here before, could I, May?’ she asked.
‘You might have, when you were here years ago. It’s fallen down a bit since then. The roof needs mending, and the kitchen’s just a lean-to, and there’s no bathroom. You can only get water from a pump in the yard.’
‘How can you have a bath, then?’
‘In the kitchen sink, I expect.’
‘Oh my hat, how awful. No wonder –’
‘No wonder the Wests aren’t all that clean?’
Ruby nodded. ‘They can’t help that, either, can they?’ She knocked on the door. Silence. She knocked again, louder; and this time the door opened a crack.
‘Ruby!’ Cynthia exclaimed. ‘I thought it might be Sir.’
‘Can we come inside, please?’ May asked. ‘It’s rather wet out here.’
‘Sorry,’ Cynthia said. ‘Yeah, come in. You’ll find us in a bit of a mess, but.’
The Wests were all in the front room, gathered around the big open fireplace. Wet clothes were draped over a length of cord reaching from wall to wall, and the room was so full of smoke it made Ruby’s eyes water.
Virginia and Josie were sitting huddled together on the floor, wearing just singlets and knickers. Of course, Ruby realised with a shock, they have to wait for their clothes to dry because they don’t have any others.
A long dead branch was sticking out of the fireplace, half in and half out of the fire. Mr West pushed the branch deeper into the coals, shaking it around until sparks flew and a weak flame flared up. ‘Well, this is a fine state of affairs,’ he said. ‘My kids being pushed out of school for no reason.’
Virginia looked up. ‘It was because of Darcy throwing stones,’ she said timidly.
‘That girl nicked Josie’s scraps,’ Darcy said, his eyes bright with anger. ‘Josie was howling her eyes out. I had to do something.’
‘Which girl was it?’ Ruby asked.
‘She’s mates with that pig Doris,’ Darcy said. ‘I don’t remember her name.’
‘It must have been Verna,’ Ruby whispered to May. ‘Verna would do whatever Doris told her.’
‘Then you chucked more stones afterwards, Darcy,’ Cynthia reminded him. ‘I don’t blame you, but you shouldn’t have.’
‘I only did it because the big boys were bullying me,’ shouted Darcy. ‘I wouldn’t have done it except they made me.’
‘Be quiet, boy.’ Mr West reached out an arm and cuffed his son on the ear. ‘I’d have thought you’d know how to behave by now.’ He glanced at Ruby and May. ‘So what do youse girls want?’
‘We’ve come to say we’re sorry about what happened at school today,’ May said.
‘A lot of us thought it was wrong,’ Ruby added. She turned to Cynthia. ‘We hope you’ll all come back to school when you’re ready to. Mr Miller says you must. He says you shouldn’t have been treated like that.’
‘He’s dead right there,’ Mrs West said. ‘I’ve a good mind to go to the police about it.’
‘Fat lot of good that’d do,’ said Mr West. ‘You think the cops’d listen to anything we say?’ He turned to May, raising his eyebrows. ‘And who might you be, pretending you care about all this?’
‘I’m May Cameron,’ said May. ‘And I do care, actually.’
‘Oh, you’re Jim Cameron’s girl?’ Suddenly Mr West sounded interested. ‘You can tell your dad I’ll come and give him a hand on his farm as soon as my back’s better. I’ve got a touch of the rheumatics – can’t do no heavy work for a while. Can’t hardly stand up.’
‘That’s a shame,’ May said. ‘And this is my cousin, Ruby Quinlan.’
‘The famous Ruby,’ Mr West said. ‘Our Cynthia can’t stop talking about you.’
‘Shush, Dad!’ Cynthia said, turning red.
Mr West grinned, showing broken and missing teeth. ‘Believe it or not, I know your dad, too, Ruby Quinlan. Harry Quinlan, would that be?’
‘Yes!’ said Ruby. ‘Harry Quinlan is my father. Oh, that’s wonderful! How do you know him? Can you tell me where he is? I haven’t seen him for weeks and weeks.’
‘Well now,’ Mr West said. ‘I know where he was. But I heard he’d been released lately, so I couldn’t tell you where he is now.’
‘Released?’ Ruby asked, puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Released from prison, girlie. That’s where I knew him – in the clink. He was in for an eighteen-month stretch. Fraud, I think it was, or embezzlement. Something to do with money, anyhow. The word is he’s out on bail.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘I have my contacts.’
Ruby went hot, and then cold. ‘It must be another Harry Quinlan,’ she said. ‘My father wouldn’t . . . ’
‘Former boss of Quinlan Construction? Business went bust? Same gent. We were cellmates till I got parole.’
So it was true – Dad really was in trouble, just as Doris had said. But it was much, much worse than she could have imagined.
Ruby felt the room dip and sway. She staggered, and nearly fell.
‘There, now.’ Mrs West took her arm and helped her gently onto a wooden crate that was being used as a chair. ‘Sid, you shouldn’t’ve said anything. Nobody told her about her dad, poor thing, and it’s been a shock. You all right, love? Have a good cry. It always helps. Cynthia, make her a cuppa. The kettle’s on the boil.’
‘I’m all right,’ Ruby said. ‘Honestly. And I’m not going to cry. I just need to. . .I need to think.’
She couldn’t think, though. Her mind was whirling. She imagined Dad in handcuffs, Dad in a prison cell, and the pain of seeing him like that made her flinch and close her eyes. With all her strength she pushed the terrible visions away. Men like Dad didn’t go to prison. That sort of thing only happened to other people.
If someone in your family was in prison, it was the worst shame. ‘Dirt sticks,’ May had told her, once. You had to keep the humiliating truth a secret, and you’d always be afraid of people finding out. You’d be like Mother. . .
Ruby opened her eyes, and in that moment she realised that Mother knew about Dad. She’d known it all along, and that was why she was so sad. That was why she refused to show Ruby Dad’s letters. That was why she said she didn’t know where he was, and why they wrote to him through Uncle Donald. If they’d posted letters addressed to Harry Quinlan at Yatala Prison, the news would have been all around the district in a flash. Ruby’s blood ran cold at the thought of it.
Something e
lse made sense now, too. On Ruby’s last day in Adelaide, Dad had told her that people might say things about him. ‘Try not to be upset,’ he’d said. ‘I can’t make things better for us now, but one day I will.’
Everybody knew except me, Ruby thought. Mother, Uncle James, Aunt Vera, Aunt Flora, Uncle Donald. Perhaps even Mr Miller knows. And if Doris discovers the truth. . .She could hear the jeering voices already. Your dad’s a jailbird! Your dad’s a crook!
She looked at May, and saw the amazement and disbelief in her eyes. What would May think of her now? Would she still want to be her friend?
Suddenly there was a huge ache in Ruby’s throat. She felt as if she might choke.
‘Here,’ Cynthia said, offering her a tin mug of steaming black tea. ‘This’ll make you feel better. I put lots of sugar in.’
Ruby took a sip. The tea burned her tongue. As she swallowed, hard, she was aware of Josie’s small hand thrust into hers. And finally, as the pain in her heart became too much to bear, Ruby burst into tears.
My great-grandfather on my father’s side was a farmer in Somerset, England. In 1856 he emigrated to South Australia, making his home in a beautiful place called Eden Valley. One of his nine children was my grandfather. He was a farmer, too, and so was my father. My brother and I grew up on the family farm. Its paddocks and orchards, its gum trees and its winding creek were our playground.
I loved the little local school I went to for seven years, but when I was twelve I had to leave home to go to a different school. Unlike Ruby, who moves from the city to the country, I moved from the country to the city. I live in the city now, but I still think of Eden Valley as home.
I was born and grew up in Italy, a beautiful country to visit, but also a difficult country to live in for new generations.
In 2006, I packed up my suitcase and I left Italy with the man I love. We bet on Australia. I didn’t know much about Australia before coming – I was just looking for new opportunities, I guess.
School Days for Ruby Page 5