‘No, but thank you. Just you being here, wanting to be with me is all I want and need. But I’ve got to do this last thing for myself. And for Liam.’ She nodded as much to reassure herself. ‘You go on to the train station. I’ll meet you there.’
Tom nodded. ‘Take all the time you need. We’ll be waiting for you.’ Mary nodded and glanced across the field to the swing tree, oddly balanced now without the rope and spar hanging down. A sadness them gone and others deprived of the chance to swing.
Taking a deep breath she stepped the rough ground, her mind travelling back in time. She had to force herself to keep walking, wading through the flood of memories. Funny things, like the darn on a sock, the stain on a trouser leg, the burn of tobacco filling her nostrils. The smell near overwhelming her resolve, but she did not turn back, though she could sense Tom’s indecision in the air behind her. She walked on, her hand creeping into her pocket, finding the tiny packet.
At the base of the tree, she took a moment – studying the bark. The ragged coat low down on the trunk, then up to the smooth upper branches, streaked pink and grey, along to where a rope looped around one. Strands of hemp fluttered in the breeze where a knife had sheared off the length and spar below.
She couldn’t look anymore or let herself think – her mind trying to form words to last a lifetime.
Just above her head a small, round knot hole caught her eye where a branch had fallen long ago, leaving a wounded scar, quite deep. Perhaps now a haven for a bird or bug.
Get on, will you.
She pulled out Liam’s money clip from her pocket and removed the paper packet within.
‘I cannot return this to where it should’ve been left, Liam, but I want you to know, I wish you peace now, wherever you are. God bless and keep you. Always.’
She reached up then and tucked the tiny packet inside the tree trunk. An image in her mind of a mother bird coming along, pecking away at it, rescuing the shreds and strands to build its nest. The thought a comfort.
She smiled and turned to gaze around the field, taking her first steps towards the road. Tom, Jane and the children in the distance, waving. Tom starting to walk back. And she knew a new truth.
Some things cannot be changed, must be endured, but more could be changed than you might think. If you dared.
Gazing at Tom’s grin coming towards her, she waved back, wholly contented where she dared go.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My grateful thanks to John and Mary McConaghy, my maternal great-grandparents, for their inspirational and courageous immigrations – first from Belfast, Ireland to Bothwellhaugh, Scotland and then to the State Coal Mine in Wonthaggi, Victoria, Australia. Tracing their journey, the whispers at the Wonthaggi State Coal Mine site and by the Bothwellhaugh Brig cried out for a story. Though No Small Shame is entirely a work of fiction, I have borrowed a couple of character traits and minor events from my ancestor’s lives. My great-grandmother did suffer bad knees like Nellie O’Donnell, but there any personal similarity ends. Mary McConaghy reportedly delighted in the cheekiest sense of humour and was always laughing, despite the challenges of migration, poverty and the loss of several infant children. John McConaghy resembled Da and was reportedly the most darling and dearest of men.
Thank you to my much missed mum, Joy Quirk, for her encouragement and enthusiasm while I researched the locations of Bothwellhaugh and Wonthaggi and details of her own mother’s voyage to Australia.
Special thanks to Thomas (Tom) Eadie – ex-miner and resident of Bothwellhaugh for his generous sharing of information, and for answering my many questions during the early drafting of the Bothwellhaugh/Pailis chapters. (Any resultant mistakes or literary licence are my own.)
Thank you to Wonthaggi Historical Society, especially to Sebastian (Sam) Gatto and John Bordignon for sharing valuable facts on both the early years of Wonthaggi township and the State Coal Mine.
Thanks to: The State Coal Mine Museum, Wonthaggi; Steven Preston – Motherwell Heritage Centre, Lanarkshire; and Dermot McMahon, Countryside Ranger – Strathclyde Country Park, Lanarkshire, for sharing valuable resources, photographs and stories of past residents of Bothwellhaugh.
A special shout-out and thanks to Mat McLachlan (Mat McLachlan Battlefield Tours) for answering crucial AIF questions in the novel’s planning stages.
Thanks to Robert Duncan and the Bothwellhaugh Ex-Residents’ Committee for their invaluable resource booklet: Bothwellhaugh – A Mining Community 1884–1965.
My gratitude to Joe Griffiths, ex-resident of Bothwellhaugh, who filmed the daily life of residents through 1962 to 1965. His archived imagery greatly assisted me to recreate the earlier village in my narrative.
Thanks to Marina Larsson for her incomparable work Shattered Anzacs, living with the scars of war, which provided valuable information and insights into the personal, psychological and financial lives of returned WWI soldiers and their families.
I have been very fortunate during the long gestation of this novel to receive feedback and encouragement from several fellow writers, as well as from the students of two RMIT Creative Writing Master’s classes, who provided critique on an early draft of this manuscript.
My sincere appreciation to Antoni Jach, past Facilitator of the RMIT Master of Creative Writing Program for his assistance in concept development of the early project.
Thank you to Christine Balint, tutor of my RMIT Master of Creative Writing Major Project classes, for both her generous feedback during the course and her review of the early manuscript.
I am so fortunate and grateful to have the brilliant support, friendship and invaluable feedback of two wonderful writing groups – Elizabeth Jane Corbett, Leisl Leighton and Lora Inak and The Young & Jacksons’ Writers’ Group: Alison Goodman, Matt Davies, Karen McKenzie, Adam Flett and Judy Crozier. Thank you, one and all, for the encouragement, the belief, the fabulous feedback and, of course, tea/wine and tissues.
Special thanks to Alison Goodman for her professional Structural Diagnosis of the manuscript, which strengthened the narrative pacing immeasurably.
My grateful thanks to Nadine Davidoff, whose manuscript review, support and enthusiasm for the work inspired me to believe it could be publishable.
Thank you so much to Zoe Hale, Sophie Hodge and Jane Curry of Impact Press for your enthusiasm to publish No Small Shame and for your wonderful expertise and collaborative process.
Thank you to my editor Caitlin Wood for dealing gently with my ‘unwieldly syntax’ and for additional suggestions that gave the manuscript its extra polish.
Special thanks and much love to my children, Matthew, Sarah and Daniel, who’ve followed the long journey from Hook to Book with love, patience and interest. Special thanks to Sarah Bell for the many conversations and brainstorming sessions during the early development of the plot, which invariably helped me discover and articulate my aims for the greater narrative.
My everlasting love and thanks to Bruce Bell, for his unflagging belief in both the story and my writing, and for all his encouragement and company over several research journeys. Thank you too for loving Mary nearly as much as I do.
I would be remiss not to thank the many thousands of AIF military and medical personnel who sacrificed their lives, or ongoing health and happiness, for their country and loved ones. Few today can fully appreciate the extent of that sacrifice or the ongoing pain experienced by so many, in wounds both visible and hidden.
AUTHOR NOTES
Any historical or geographical mistakes are mine alone. Despite fact checking what, at times, seemed like every other word and detail, I know that some errors will inevitably occur.
Father O’Sullivan – St Joseph’s Catholic Church – left Wonthaggi in 1917, but I’ve retained his services throughout the novel, rather than cause confusion.
It is somewhat debatable whether the State Coal Mine whistle could be heard as easily throughout the town of Wonthaggi as stated.
Luna Park was closed during much of WWI, except
for specific patriotic events, and I have used poetic licence for the timing of Mary and Tom’s visit to suit the novel’s timeline.
During the years 1912–1914 the steamships S. S. Makarini and the S. S. Hawkes Bay carried third-class immigrant passengers from Tilbury Dock, England to Melbourne, Australia under a Victorian Government funded assisted-passage scheme. The ships travelled around the Cape of Good Hope rather than through the Suez Canal in order to escape the Suez fee and keep the expense to the Government as low as possible. John and Mary McConaghy travelled on these ships in 1912 and 1913 respectively.
After the Hamilton Palace Colliery closed, the village of Bothwellhaugh was evacuated before being demolished in the mid-1960s to make way for the Strathclyde Country Park. I ask forgiveness from any ex-residents for any errors in my descriptions or portrayals.
Apologies to Major James Lean of the AIF Base Records for taking his name in vain. I have used both his name and the official AIF Base Records’ wording used in notifications to next of kin.
During WWI, under the guise of patriotism, bands of women did confront men in civilian clothes and demand their reason for not being in uniform. They then presented them with the poem ‘To The Shirker’ in an effort to shame them into enlisting. The lines of the poem were extracted from The Test by W. M. Fleming, published in many newspapers in early 1915.
The ‘Skinny Malinky’ poem reportedly originated in the late nineteenth century as a Scottish children’s song – though lyrics and country of origin can vary depending on the source.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Christine Bell is a Melbourne fiction writer. In 2019 she was awarded the inaugural HNSA Colleen McCullough Residency for an Established Author. In 2014, she was awarded a Varuna Retreat Fellowship for her YA novel manuscript, Prison Boy. Her other adult and children’s short stories have won or been commended in national writing competitions and published in various anthologies. Prior to completing her Master of Creative Writing degree, Christine had 35 short fiction titles published for children. When she is not writing, Christine is learning to play the piano and planning an upcoming research trip to France.
No Small Shame Page 35