Times of Our Lives

by Jane Waterton

  Sparrow shook her head and laughed. “Well it wasn’t so much that. It was more that they couldn’t seem to cope with the day to day matters of life, as far as we girls were concerned.”

  Meg settled herself next to Allie. “Such as?” she queried with a frown.

  “Well, for example. There was this lovely American girl in my class whose father was stationed at the same place as my dad. She arrived in the middle of the term and we became quite good friends. Being a Catholic school, the words ‘period’ and ‘menstruation’ were never used, so when we had our periods, we had to go to the nun in charge of the small shop and say, ‘Sister, I have a headache.’ She would then open a drawer and hand us a small parcel of modess pads, discreetly wrapped in brown paper.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Are you serious?” Allie asked in amazement.

  “Yep, I swear. Unfortunately, though, no-one told Mandy, the American girl. One day she went to the shop and said, ‘Sister, I have a headache,’ and was duly given the parcel. Somewhat puzzled, she took it back to her room and unwrapped it. Apparently, she sat there for a while, rather perplexed, until she thought she figured out what she was supposed to do. Next thing we knew, she was walking into the classroom with the pad, which she had soaked in cold water, tied around her forehead.”

  The women erupted in gales of laughter.

  “Honestly,” Sparrow continued, still laughing at the memory, “I thought the nun teaching the class was going to have a coronary. I can still hear her. ‘Amanda Douglas, get that THING off your head immediately and report to the headmistress.’ Mandy was completely bewildered by the whole episode. All she wanted was something for her headache. Meanwhile, once we recovered from the shock, the whole class was hysterical. I laughed so much I was nearly sick.”

  “So what did you ask for if you really did have a headache?” asked Daphne.

  Sparrow chuckled. “Believe it or not, an aspirin. Poor kid, it wasn’t her fault. When she was given the parcel, she just assumed that this was some weird British rite. She didn’t want to ask, so she just used her head.”

  “Literally, it would seem,” Meg said, smiling.

  Leslie shook her head. “I’m still coming to terms with the picture of nuns wrapping modess pads in brown paper parcels.”

  “Good Lord, how did we survive our educations?” Daphne groaned.

  “We were taught about reproduction with films of frogs mating,” Allie offered, spearing a piece of sweet honeydew.

  Puzzled, Daphne stared at her. “What? How on earth was that relevant?”

  “I have no idea, but from that day onwards one of the girls refused to go swimming with boys, because she thought that was how you got pregnant. I often wonder how long it took her to figure it out,” Allie replied, popping the piece of melon in her mouth.

  “Kids today are so lucky. There is so much information out there now. I remember when I first realised I was gay, I thought I was the only one in the whole world. I didn’t even know the name for what I felt. When I did find out, it was even worse. Good Catholic family—I was convinced I was going to burn in hell. I ended up leaving home rather than tell my parents. They probably would have kicked me out anyway,” Sparrow said quietly.

  “I knew from a very early age and did get kicked out of home.” Seeing the shocked faces around her, Meg shrugged. “I never got on with my parents anyway. They were more interested in societal appearances than reality. However, I had a…” Meg paused with a small smile. “I think we called them ‘maiden aunts’ in those days. She was very rich, very rebellious and very loving, and spent four years nurturing my strength, identity and sense of adventure.”

  Allie squeezed Meg’s hand. “Well, she sure did a damned fine job.”

  “When did you realise you were a lesbian, Allie?” Daphne asked, watching the interaction between her and Meg.

  “Oh good Lord, believe it or not it was at a party in Kings Cross just after my twenty-third birthday. From the age of sixteen, all I heard from my parents was ‘when you get married’,’ and all the girls I used to hang around with continually talked about boys and sex. Even after I finally got a boyfriend, I was still no clearer as to what all the fuss was about.” Allie looked at Meg fondly. “Meg was the first lesbian I ever met, and once she introduced me to her friends, I started to realise that maybe men weren’t the only option. There was a great club in Kings Cross that we went to quite regularly. They had an exotic dancer…”

  “Delores, would you believe?” said Meg, rolling her eyes.

  The other women guffawed.

  “Anyway,” Allie continued, ignoring them, “she used to come and sit with us between breaks. She and I used to chat and she would give me dance lessons.”

  “Just in case she needed another career if the chef thing fell through,” chuckled Meg, trying to keep a straight face.

  Allie continued through the laughter, “So, one night we arrived and there was this amazing party happening at the club. Delores and I began dancing and…well, one thing led to another and I found myself upstairs in her apartment.” Allie smirked. “I’ll leave the rest up to your imagination.”

  Sparrow nudged her shoulder. “Sounds like a lot of fun.”

  “You got free dancing lessons, and Delores got the toaster oven. I think that’s a very equitable lesbian exchange,” Leslie concluded happily.

  “And now here we all are in the first retirement village run specifically for lesbians. We’ve come a long way, baby,” Allie said, clinking her glass with Meg’s.

  “Hear, hear,” chorused the women, raising their glasses.

  The women sat quietly talking amongst themselves, until finally Sparrow yawned. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m bushed.”

  Agreeing, the others rose and started packing up, collecting bottles and wrapping the leftover fruit and cheese. They checked to make sure they had left nothing behind before closing and locking the gate to the pool. As they walked slowly back to their homes, they talked quietly amongst themselves.

  Meg linked her arm through Allie’s and smiled at her. “So, are you glad you came tonight?”

  Allie squeezed Meg’s arm. “Yes, despite my fears, it was a wonderful night.”

  “You should let go more often. You know that don’t you?”

  Allie sighed. “I know, but I guess it’s still hard. I’m just not wired like you. You’re a ‘feel the fear and do it anyway’ kind of person; it’s one of the things I’ve always loved about you. Sometimes I hate that I’m boring and always looking at the practical side of everything, but I suspect that it’s too late for me to change now.”

  “Well, it does have its advantages, you know. Can you imagine if we were both like me? We’d have probably died thirty years ago.”

  Allie laughed. “Yes, I must say I’ve never regretted stopping you from flying under the Sydney Harbour Bridge back in your pilot days.”

  “Or that time you talked me out of entering the Dakar Rally,” added Meg.

  “I never understood why you wanted to do that. There we were, in our forties, and you wanted to go charging across the bloody desert in a car. Even…what was her name…Francoise, thought you were crazy.”

  “Ah yes, the beautiful Francoise,” said Meg dreamily. “God, she was gorgeous.”

  “Yes, and she cost you a great deal of money, I seem to remember,” Allie replied drily.

  “And, like all beautiful things, she was truly worth every cent.” Meg stopped and turned to take Allie’s hands. “We should go back to Paris for a visit—just the two of us. Hot air ballooning over the French vineyards has been on my bucket list for years. I can’t believe we haven’t done that yet.”

  “Well I am sure that can be arranged, but can we talk about it tomorrow? I’m nearly asleep on my feet, and I can’t possibly think about trips to Paris tonight.”

 
Meg laughed and drew her into a hug as they paused in front of Allie’s door. “Of course, darling. Sleep well and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Waving goodnight to the group, Allie let herself into her cottage. As she crawled into bed, she started to laugh. “Hot air balloons indeed.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Sparrow sat on her sofa, surrounded by embroidery threads. A unique cushion design had caught her eye and she was trying to decide which of the myriad of colours laid out before her would be the best choice for the next stage of the design. She ran her hands over the threads, revelling in the rich hues of gold, red and green and the way they shone in the sunlight streaming through her window.

  A knock at the door interrupted her concentration. She glanced at her watch and was taken aback to see that it was nearly three-thirty.

  When she opened the door, she was delighted to see Daphne standing there.

  “Hi, Sparrow. I’m not sure if you are busy, but I was going for a walk and I wondered if you would like to join me?”

  “Oh, how wonderful. Yes, I’d love to.” The sight of the object of her nascent fantasies standing in her doorway caused Sparrow’s heart to race, leaving her uncharacteristically flustered. Realising she was just standing there, she motioned Daphne inside. “Sorry, please come in and I’ll just get myself organised.”

  Daphne followed her into the living room.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said, looking at the splash of colour the range of embroidery threads created on the sofa, “but it’s such a lovely afternoon, and well…”

  As Sparrow turned and smiled up at her, Daphne stammered to a halt, her words lost in an answering smile.

  “No, it’s perfect timing,” Sparrow insisted, placing her hand on Daphne’s arm. “I’ve been inside all day and you’re right, it is a wonderful afternoon for a walk. If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll just change my blouse and put on my walking shoes.”

  “No rush, take your time,” Daphne replied, taking a seat.

  A few moments later, Sparrow rejoined her in the living room wearing a pair of lightweight, summer capri pants and a soft pink blouse. Feeling emboldened, she had also added a touch of lipstick and some perfume. Sparrow felt a ripple of happiness at the obvious appreciation on Daphne’s face.

  “I’ve got my keys and jacket, so let’s go,” she said softly.

  Taking a deep breath as she got to her feet, Daphne followed her outside.

  “Which way were you thinking of going?” Sparrow asked as she locked her front door.

  “Well, I thought the lake walk would be nice. I saw some new ducklings there the other day and I thought we might visit them.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  The sun had lowered enough to take the sting out of the heat, and the gentle breeze brought the scent of freshly mown grass. Sparrow took a deep breath, feeling the warmth resonate through her body.

  “So, what brought you to OWL’s Haven, Daphne?” she asked as they walked, eager to learn more about her suddenly reticent companion.

  “Same thing as most of us, I guess,” said Daphne. “I had been living on my own in Sydney for about five years and was thinking I should sell my house. Originally, I planned to sell it and just buy a smaller cottage. Then some Army buddies of mine, who had recently moved into a retirement village, dragged me along to an open day.

  “I had always imagined they would be full of old people just sitting around waiting to die. However, when I saw the place for myself, I was pleasantly surprised. The people were friendly; the cottages were nice; it felt…I don’t know…normal. I went home and thought about what I was going to do, but kept putting off the decision. Then, a few months later, I read an article in a magazine about OWL’s Haven and came down to see it for myself.” Daphne stopped and looked at the beautifully tended grounds surrounding them. “I was so impressed that I went back and had my house on the market by the end of that week. I’ve never regretted moving here; it’s the best thing I’ve done in years.”

  Sparrow smiled, nodding in agreement. “Tell me about your years in the Army?” she asked, taking advantage of their burgeoning rapport by linking her arm through Daphne’s. “What made you join up?”

  Gently bringing Sparrow in closer, Daphne blew out a deep breath. “My father and I…” Daphne paused, her jaw clenching. “Well, I think the best thing I can say about him is that we didn’t get along. He was basically a bully and a thug and usually took his anger out on my mother. I tried to protect her, but he’d wait until I’d left for school and she was alone.” Swallowing hard, she continued. “She died when I was fifteen. The day of her funeral I thought my heart was going to break. After she died, he just moved his viciousness onto me. I loved school and loved learning, but once it was finished for the day I’d go anywhere but home.”

  Seeing Sparrow’s look of distress, Daphne shrugged. “It was OK. I ended up spending a lot of time on the streets and got caught up with a pretty wild crowd. Inevitably, the law caught up with me and I came to the attention of a social worker named Marion Harmon. Luckily for me, she saw through my arrogance and anger and organised for me to join a program with other street kids who were living in similar situations.” Daphne laughed, remembering. “I so didn’t want to join in, and I gave that poor woman a huge amount of grief, but to her credit and my incredible luck, she persevered. Eventually, I gave up fighting because it was just too hard to maintain and once I did, I realised that the program wasn’t so bad after all.”

  Sparrow squeezed Daphne’s arm in silent encouragement and asked gently, “So you were living on the streets?”

  “Well, I’d figured out I was a lesbian by then and the old man wouldn’t have me in the house. I used to stay with mates when I could; otherwise I would sneak into the back shed and sleep there. One evening, when I was sixteen, an Army recruitment team came to give a talk to our youth group. Afterwards, I spoke to Marion about my interest in what the Army could offer me, so she organised with a friend of hers to give me a personal tour. I came home from that visit knowing that joining the Army was exactly what I wanted to do.”

  “But there was only one problem.” Daphne’s tone roughened, and Sparrow looked up, concern on her face. “My father had to sign the form for me to join. He refused, threatening to tell them I was a queer. We got into a fight and I punched him—knocked him clean off his feet.”

  Daphne stopped, looking down at Sparrow. “That sounds bad doesn’t it?” she asked quietly, removing her arm from Sparrow’s grip. “I was tall and pretty strong by then and it was as if every ounce of anger I had stored inside me just exploded. I said that if he didn’t sign, I’d call the police and tell them who was responsible for the latest wave of burglaries going on in our neighbourhood.”

  “No,” Sparrow said fiercely. “You did what you had to do.” Leaning in, she took Daphne’s hand and held it gently in her own. “So, what happened?”

  “Well, it seemed to do the trick and the day after my seventeenth birthday, I joined the Army.” Daphne kicked at a pebble. “He died soon after I enlisted. I didn’t even bother going to the funeral. As far as I was concerned, it was a blessing. Besides, I had a new life and it was taking up all my time.”

  They resumed walking. “Was it as good as you had hoped?”

  “Oh, you have no idea,” Daphne said, a smile chasing away the sadness. “I remember when the bus dropped us all at the Recruit Training Centre in Mosman. I was terrified. It was the first time that I was completely in charge of my own life. I couldn’t believe how much there was to learn. We seemed to spend all our time studying, cleaning and trying to stay out of the path of our instructors. They terrified us all into blind obedience. I remember meeting one of those instructors years later and she still made me nervous!”

  Sparrow laughed at the exaggerated depiction.

  “Still, once I had been there a while and starte
d to relax, I came to love it. I was young, I had direction, purpose and order. And for the first time in several years, I was also safe, well fed and way too busy to worry about getting into trouble.”

  “So what exactly did you do in the Army?” Sparrow asked, brushing her hand against the lavender bushes that lined their walk.

  Both women breathed in the scent as Daphne continued her story. “I started in driver training. It was terrific. I learnt how to drive all these amazing trucks. Because I was tall and fit, I was able to handle them quite easily. Then as I progressed through the ranks, I became an instructor myself.”

  “What was that like?” Sparrow asked, imagining a young Daphne in her Army greens.

  Daphne shook her head. “Well, by the time I got promoted to that level I was well and truly ready for it, so it felt fine. However, it was just another part of my personal journey. Being an instructor taught me to lead, to take charge.”

  The thought caused Sparrow to break out in goosebumps. “Oh, how wonderful,” she breathed, stumbling a little.

  Daphne stopped. “Are you all right?” she asked, concerned. “Are you tired? Do you want to turn back?”

  Sparrow gazed up at her. “No, I’m fine. Go on, you were…taking charge,” she prompted with a smile.

  Daphne tucked Sparrow’s arm under hers once again. “Well, I guess the experience gave me a perspective I didn’t even know I needed. Sometimes things happen in life for a reason. I have always believed that Marion and the Army saved my life. I hate to think what would have happened to me if I’d been left to just run wild. I probably would have been dead, or in jail, by the time I was twenty.”

  They arrived at the lake, and Daphne turned to Sparrow. “I don’t know about you, but a bench seat under a tree has never looked so good.”

  Taking a handkerchief out of her pocket, Daphne quickly gave the bench a wipe over. As they sat and caught their breath, the sound of water birds feeding nearby created a relaxing backdrop.