He hammered in another rivet, his feet hooked under a steel girder to keep him balanced as he bashed the tail end. There were two more jobs coming up in his crew and he thought young Johnny Apanui might be good for one of them. Then he wouldn’t have to work at the Destructor any longer and go round smelling like a rubbish bin. He’d have a talk to him at some stage.
*
Donna Roberts was very happy. Her nurse training was going well and she’d put the nightmare of Dr Slippery Sullivan behind her. There had been no more boyfriends since and she hadn’t even looked at a man in a white coat unless he’d been giving instructions at the hospital. Of Robert Sullivan himself there’d been no sign, and for that she’d been grateful. Her friendships with Helen and Barbara had become stronger, and even grumpy old Joan had turned out to be not such a bad old stick. She knew Donna had had a failed love affair (mortifyingly, it seemed that everyone on Donna’s floor of the nursing home knew), but instead of saying I told you so, Joan had said, ‘Bad luck, old thing. Why don’t you join a club? I met my fellow at badminton.’ Which had been kind of her, Donna thought, but she was buggered if she was going to leap around playing badminton just to meet a bloke.
When she looked back on everything that had happened with Robert, she wondered what on earth had got into her. She’d run around after him, made herself available for him, had done stupid things just to please him, and put up with all sorts of pompous rubbish from him. He’d been an arrogant, self-serving big-noter, and she’d thought he was the cat’s meow! When she told Helen and Barbara some of the things he’d said and done, they’d laughed and laughed, and so had she.
The only thing she didn’t talk much about was the abortion. That was too personal. She was glad she’d had it, and so grateful to her mother and father for helping her and not chastising her for it, but it was something she wouldn’t ever want to have to do again. And the way to avoid that was to not get involved with men. Simple.
The abortion had also raised another small dilemma for her. She’d been planning on specialising in paediatrics but really, how could she do that now, after she’d been directly responsible for aborting her own child? To care for babies and children after having taken such deliberate measures to destroy her own baby was surely the height of hypocrisy. So now she thought she might focus on general nursing when she’d finished her initial training, or perhaps look at specialising as a theatre nurse. With general you got a bit of most things anyway.
So, yes, she was happy. She’d learnt a valuable lesson and she liked to think — hoped — she was a lot smarter now. She went out with her girlfriends for coffee and sometimes a meal, they had midnight feasts at the nurses’ home, and now and then they went to the pictures, but that was it for her social life and she was content with that. She went home more to see her parents and Pauline, and to visit Allie and Sonny. Earlier in the year, when she’d been busy going out with Robert, she’d hardly seen them at all. Perhaps if she had, she might not have got into such trouble. Someone, Allie perhaps, or more likely Pauline, who always called a spade a spade, might have told her what a twerp Robert really was and that she was making a fool of herself. But would she have listened? Probably not.
She was making up for it now though, and she’d realised, to her dismay, that by not spending time with her family she’d been cheating them and, even worse, hurting them. She was the first Roberts to go on to any sort of education beyond high school and they were so proud of her, her parents in particular, and she’d been so full of herself she hadn’t even bothered to share any of it with them. She did now, though, sometimes too much, especially at the tea table, according to her mother, who said things like, ‘Thank you, dear, I don’t think we need to know what an anal fistula is.’
Tonight she was telling them about a young mother and child.
‘I was on the children’s ward today changing a baby’s nappy, and I said to the mother, “I know you, don’t I?” And it turned out she had him at the Bethany home at Grey Lynn, where I did work experience last year.’
‘An unmarried mother?’ Colleen asked, spearing a carrot.
‘They all are at Bethany, Mum. I quite liked her. Anyway, the baby’s really sick and had to be brought up from Waikato Hospital. He sleeps too much, has fits, vomits for no apparent reason and has trouble breathing. And there’re bruises all over him. Poor little thing. He’s only eight months old.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Pauline asked.
‘The doctors aren’t completely sure,’ Donna said, ‘but the police came and talked to the mother today.’
Pauline said, ‘Talked to her about what?’
‘Whether she had anything to do with the state he’s in, I suppose.’
‘You mean she belted him?’
‘It does happen, you know,’ Colleen said. ‘On occasion I could easily have thumped the daylights out of you girls when you were little. You in particular, Pauline. You just never settled.’
‘You didn’t, though,’ Sid said. ‘You yelled at me instead.’
Colleen nodded. ‘That’s right, I did too.’
‘So did the police arrest her?’ Pauline asked.
‘No, they just went away again.’
‘Do you think she hit him?’ Colleen asked.
Donna said, ‘I don’t know. I hope not. But I remember before the baby was born the mother was planning on putting it up for adoption, but changed her mind after she had him. Matron was quite angry about it and said she’d be sorry, and something about heaping one misery on top of another.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Pauline asked.
‘I don’t know. Anyway she took the baby home with her. She was only about sixteen.’
‘Maybe the first misery was getting in trouble and the second one was keeping the baby,’ Pauline suggested.
‘Or she might have been, you know . . .’ Sid waved his fork vaguely ‘. . . got at.’
Donna could see her dad didn’t want to say ‘raped’.
‘This is a fun conversation, isn’t it?’ Pauline said.
‘No, it is not,’ Colleen said and got up from the table. ‘Does anyone want more potatoes? There’s plenty left.’
Pauline announced, ‘If I had a baby I wouldn’t belt it.’
From the bench Colleen said, ‘If you had a baby, young lady, you’d have a husband to help you with it. If you’re going to keep a child, then you make damn sure you hold on to its father too.’
Donna scoffed, ‘Husbands don’t help with babies. Did Dad?’
‘I’ll have you know I changed Allie’s nappy,’ Sid declared.
‘Once,’ Colleen said, ‘and you nearly threw up from the smell and had to go to the pub afterwards to recover.’ She paused. ‘Though I admit you did spend a lot of time playing with them and you didn’t mind pushing them in the pram or the pushchair. A lot of husbands wouldn’t even do that back then. They won’t do it now.’
Pauline asked, ‘So what will happen to the sick baby?’
‘I don’t know,’ Donna said. ‘He’s too ill to go home.’
‘Well, what will happen to the mother?’
‘I don’t know that, either.’
Chapter Eighteen
September 1956
After a fair bit of stalling, gear-graunching, bunny-hopping and embarrassed giggling, Allie managed to drive the truck, with Kura in the passenger seat, to the railway station down near the docks — unfortunately right in the middle of town — and convince some nice railway workers to load their half-bale of wool onto the back. They took it to Kura’s, where they rolled it off and around to the back of the house. And lucky it wasn’t a full bale too, the women realised when they cut the stitching holding the jute closed, as wool went everywhere. Fortunately, since they’d bought it from a storage facility, it had already been scoured, so it wasn’t stinky and full of lanolin and dirt and sheep shit, and didn’t need washing.
Then came the dyeing, which Ana decided to do before the spinning. The wool h
ad washed out to a nice pale cream, so they chose to leave some of it undyed, and picked dyes for the remainder — light blue, pale pink, lemon and mint. Ana showed the others how to form the wool into rovings, or long tufts, then, when that was done, she got everything ready at Kura’s house. They’d be doing quite big batches so they bought an old copper for three pounds from a second-hand dealer and set it up over a fire pit in Kura’s backyard. To save money, they hauled some of the abandoned lumber over from Wiki’s place and chopped it up for firewood. Ana had never dyed such a lot of wool at once and hoped she was getting the quantities right, holding her breath as she added the dye dissolved in water to the steaming copper and then, one at a time, the dampened rovings.
Gingerly she began to stir with a long wooden dowel.
‘Well, the stick’s going blue,’ Allie said.
‘So’s the wool, see?’ Kura noted. ‘Can I have a stir?’
Ana handed her the dowel. ‘Gently, though, or it’ll get tangled up.’
Kura stirred with utmost concentration while Ana used a pair of fire tongs to pull a couple of pieces of wood off the fire. If it got too hot and the water boiled, the wool would turn to felt.
The four women stood around the copper, staring into its depths, mesmerised.
Wiki laughed. ‘We’re like those witches in that play. What’s it called?’
‘Macbeth?’ Allie said.
A voice came over the fence. ‘Hoi! What have you got in that pot?’
Wiki muttered, ‘Your nosy neighbour again.’
Kura called out, ‘The last person who asked us that.’
Snorting with muffled laughter, the women elbowed one another.
There were no further comments from the neighbour.
After fifteen minutes Ana added a decent measure of white vinegar to ‘set’ the dye. Then, when the water was almost clear, they lifted the dripping rovings — now an attractive pale shade of blue — out of the copper and laid them on sheets provided by Ana (Jack’s and a bit stained), and rolled them up to get most of the water out. It looked like it might rain, which was annoying, so they hung the newly coloured wool all around Kura’s front room and along the hallway walls to dry.
A couple of days later, David drove Ana over to collect the wool, which they laid carefully in the boot of the car. Kura plied David with cake and in return he took all the Apanui offspring for a ride in the Chevrolet, which they loved. When they got back, the Irwin kids were lined up on the footpath, so off he went again.
On the way home he said to Ana, ‘That house of Kura and Joshua’s is disgusting. Can’t they find anything better?’
‘No, and I told you why. And Wiki and Henare’s place is just as bad. I’ve been over there.’
‘How bloody depressing. They’re hard up at the moment too, aren’t they?’
‘They are while Wiki and Kura aren’t working.’
‘What if we gave them a bit of money?’
‘Well, that would be nice,’ Ana said, ‘but have we got any spare?’
David thought for a moment. ‘Not really.’
‘And I don’t think Joshua and Henare would be happy about it. Or Kura and Wiki for that matter. They’d see it as charity.’
‘But it wouldn’t be. They’re your relatives. Family helping family isn’t charity.’
Ana looked at David sideways. ‘Do you mean like you working at Kenmore wouldn’t be charity, it’d just be family helping us out?’
David stared straight ahead. ‘That’s different and you know it.’
‘How is it different?’
‘I’m used to being my own man. I ran that farm of my father’s more or less by myself. I couldn’t work for anyone else.’
Ana could see that the moment the words were out of his mouth he knew he’d said something idiotic. Should she say it, or leave him his dignity?
‘But you are working for someone else.’
Red in the face now, David said, ‘Yes, and I got that job myself. You didn’t have to go crawling to your father begging for it.’
‘My father would love to have you at Kenmore, David. He’s said it often enough.’
‘Not to me, he hasn’t.’
Ana thought, God, you stubborn bastard. But she didn’t want to argue and there was only one way to stop it.
‘No, maybe not. Look, I’m sorry I brought it up. It wasn’t where I was heading with the conversation at all.’
David was silent for several ill-humoured minutes, then he said, ‘Well, where were you heading?’
‘I was going to say I really hope the knitting business works out, because then they’ll have something they’ll have worked for and built up themselves. They, or rather we, will be self-employed. Surely that’ll be better than working for someone else in a horrible factory somewhere.’
‘You’ll have to make a fair bit of money to pay a reasonable wage to all four of you. It’s no good if you keep on doing it for nothing. It’s just a hobby then and you’ll still be in the same boat as when you started, financially.’
‘I know that.’
‘So how are you going to make sure you make money?’
‘Well, we’ll have to knit something first, won’t we,’ Ana said, ‘and see who wants to buy it? Or rather, sell it.’
*
It was lunchtime and Marian was on her break. Peggy waved as Pauline Roberts wandered towards the Elizabeth Arden counter — come for one of her occasional chats, probably.
‘Hi,’ Pauline said. ‘How’s things?’
‘Good. And yourself?’
‘OK. How’s the new girl?’ Pauline asked.
Peggy said, ‘Thick as two short planks, but she’s a sweetie.’
‘Allie says you’re welcome to visit any time.’
‘That’s nice of her. I really should get off my arse and do that. No baby news yet?’ Peggy knew how desperate Allie was to have another baby. She’d talked about it often enough.
‘Not as far as I know,’ Pauline said, ‘and I expect she’d have told me.’
‘She’d have told everyone. What about the job hunting?’
‘No job either, but it doesn’t really matter now Sonny’s working on the bridge. He’s making tons of money.’
Peggy’s pencilled eyebrows went up. ‘Tons? Maybe I should get a job doing that.’
‘Johnny’s going to. He’s seeing the boss next week. Sonny’s fixed it for him. Allie is doing something, though.’
‘What’s that?’
‘She’s joined a knitting circle.’
Peggy said, ‘Crikey, that sounds exciting.’
‘They’re going to knit stuff to sell and have a proper business and all that.’
‘Really?’ Peggy took a good, hard look at Pauline. ‘How are things going with Johnny?’
‘Good. We’re still going strong. Going to the MCC most weekends and all that. It’s great. He’s lovely.’
‘Well, you be careful.’
‘I’m always careful.’
Peggy thought, hmm. ‘Are you well?’
‘Yeah, why?’
‘You look tired.’ Peggy reached into a drawer and grabbed a couple of lipsticks and eyeshadows. ‘These are discontinued shades. Do you want them? There’s nothing wrong with them.’
‘Yes, please. Thanks!’
‘The plum might be a bit dark for you, but the two lighter shades will work and so will the eyeshadows. Just don’t put them on with a trowel, like I do. You’re too young and pretty for that.’
‘Thanks, Peggy. Well, better go. Got to get some smokes before I go back to work.’
‘Bye, then. Say hi to your sister. Tell her to eat lots of seaweed. It’s supposed to increase fertility.’
‘Seaweed?’
Peggy shrugged. ‘I read it in a magazine somewhere.’
‘I will. Bye.’
As Pauline walked off, Peggy thought, Poor Allie. First Donna accidentally gets pregnant, which Allie had told her all about, and now — maybe her little sister too?
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*
Awhi and Gina went out to the letterbox, which they did together every day. Sometimes there was something interesting and sometimes there wasn’t. Once, Gina had reached in and felt around and a huge big spider had come out sitting on an envelope, and she’d run shrieking and laughing down the path. But usually there were just bills, or, more often, nothing at all.
But today there was a letter. Awhi looked at the post mark: Sydney. She had a few relatives living in Sydney, and some in Melbourne and Brisbane, but they never wrote to her.
They took the letter inside and Awhi sat at the kitchen table to open it. When she saw the handwriting she almost threw it straight in the bin, but she couldn’t help herself; she had to read it.
Dear Mum,
I know you probably don’t want to read this, but I’m writing to say I’m sorry for taking Gina off you. I did it for her. It’s in her best interests.
I don’t want her to grow up like I did. She deserves everything she can get.
I’m happy where I am. I’ve got a job and I’m making good money.
Your daughter,
Polly
There was no date, and no address.
‘Who wrote it, Nan?’ Gina asked.
‘No one, love,’ Awhi said, and put the letter in the bin. The stupid girl didn’t even know Sonny had gone and rescued Gina and brought her back home.
But later that day Awhi dug though the rubbish and found the letter, brushed off the potato peelings, and put it in the top drawer of her dressing table.
*
Ana sat at her spinning wheel in her front room, wondering how much longer she’d be able to keep going. She’d been spinning more or less constantly for six days, and her left wrist was so sore from twisting the wool she couldn’t even lift the kettle or her pots. But most of the wool was now yarn and she was going to finish it if it killed her. David said she had shearers’ wrist, something shearers got after using hand clippers for days on end, but she didn’t think so. She wasn’t shearing sheep, for a start. She just needed a rest. But the yarn was lovely — nice and soft and a beautiful colour. She’d leave it as single ply as it was for delicate, quality garments, but when — if — they started to make cardigans and jumpers for adults, and if they still couldn’t afford to buy wool, she’d spin at least double ply.
From the Ashes Page 31
