“I think I will have to go away,” he said.
“Batman?”
“Yes.”
“What does Miss Ivens say?”
“She says my arm is slow to heal.”
“Can you feel your fingers?”
He shook his head.
“Then I’d suggest you listen to Miss Ivens.”
She leaned in and kissed him then. Her body flushed with desire and, with it, a terrible sadness.
She withdrew from the kiss. “I could tell you things,” she said. She thought she might cry.
“I could tell you things,” he said.
“Not like mine.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But I’m weaker than you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I wouldn’t have saved your arm.”
“Well, luckily, it wasn’t my arm that needed saving.”
“What needs saving?”
She didn’t answer, put a hand to her heart.
“You’re strong,” he said. “And I can help with anything else. I don’t care about anything else.”
“You might,” she said.
“But I don’t.” He looked at her.
“Is truth better or a dream?” she said.
“Truth,” he said. “Always truth.”
“There’s no one in my room,” she said. “Quickly.”
A dream. A dream is always better.
Fifteen
SYDNEY, 1920
The train arrived back at Central Station at teatime. It seemed like an age since I’d seen my family, and yet it had been no time at all.
Helen had let me keep the skirt and jacket I’d borrowed. “Truly, I have two of each,” she’d said the evening before, after the official function was over. I was wearing them again today, with my own blouse. “And you just look a picture, Maddie, a proper correspondence secretary,” she said when she gave them to me.
I hadn’t managed to clear the backlog of letters altogether, but I knew it would be easier for Mr. Waters to do now that a system was in place. He would need a typist, I’d told him when he came into the office during the morning. He didn’t seem terribly interested. There had been more stops on the way back to Sydney than on the way to Canberra and he had been kept busy with those.
No one had come back to the office to say good-bye and I wasn’t quite sure what I was supposed to do. Not that I expected a farewell, but I’d have liked to see Mr. Waters and Helen. I didn’t know how I was to be paid either. I didn’t want to ask but I would have to. We needed the money. And I didn’t know if I was supposed to turn up the next day to serve at Government House while the prince was staying there. I didn’t much fancy the idea of Mrs. Danby as my supervisor.
I waited fifteen minutes more and then left a note on the desk for Mr. Waters. I assumed they’d forgotten about me so I collected my little bag and went down to the platform. I decided I would catch the ferry at Circular Quay and go back to Bea’s. I would come back to Government House tomorrow to see about wages.
I was trying to work out which direction I should go when I heard a voice behind me. “Maddie!” I looked out and saw my brother Bert. Behind him and beyond a makeshift barrier were the other boys, John and the twins, George and Henry. Every time I saw them all together like this, I felt the stab of who was missing: our brother Edward.
Mummy was there, and Daddy too, I saw, with the younger boys. Bert had jumped the barrier to come to me. He hugged me tightly, although I’d only been away for two nights.
“Daddy arrived this morning,” Bert said. “We saw the prince was coming back, so I said we should wait for you.” He was grinning, and his narrow face, a carbon copy of our father’s, reminded me of Daddy in better days.
Bert was sixteen, a year younger than me, but a head-and-a-half taller now, and I’d swear he’d added an inch in those two days. We’d grown up in each other’s pockets, Edward those couple of years older. Bert left school when I did and got a delivery job with the iceworks at Ithaca. It was heavy work, lugging blocks of ice wrapped in canvas into people’s back kitchen iceboxes. Nicer in summer was all he said about it.
I felt a stab of something then: fellow feeling—these were my kin—shot through with something else, embarrassment, which took a moment to register. I was embarrassed. I looked past Bert to the rest, huddled in their odd little group. I felt as if I’d grown up and away from them in these two days, and here they were, mixing in with my new life. How quickly we change our allegiance! It was me on the official side of the barrier. They were on the other. In truth, I wanted to be in neither place right then, but if I’d had to choose, I’d have stayed on the train side with the prince.
I gave a little wave and smiled and went over to where they stood. I hugged Daddy across the barrier that had been set up to stop gawkers from coming onto the platform. When one of the policemen started making his way toward us, Bert jumped back over to their side.
“You made it,” I said to Daddy.
He’d told us before we left Brisbane for Sydney that he probably wouldn’t come. He said he was finishing a poem. I don’t know if Mummy believed him. I knew better, having been into his study.
“Your mother might have wired me you’d been kidnapped by the monarch,” he said. “I gleaned what I could from Bert here and thought I’d better see the situation for myself.”
He was trying hard for his old humor. It was awful when he was like this, as we saw a glimpse of the father we’d once had, the wicked grin, the sparkle in his eyes, but we knew now he could not stay.
“Something like that,” I said. “The heir.”
“It’s possible that’s worse,” he said, looking at me carefully, as if I might be a spy now. “It’s all so grand,” he said. “And you pretty grand yourself.”
Helen’s skirt, I assumed, made me more grand, or perhaps because I’d been among such important people I’d become a little important too.
I hugged each of the boys, Bert for the second time. I felt better then; they were my family and I loved them. I felt more normal again, ready to go home with them.
“Oh, how wonderful this all is,” Mummy said. “The prince himself!” She smiled and I saw how proud she was. “But where’s your uniform? What are you wearing that skirt for?”
Before I could answer, I noticed Mummy was looking behind me, smiling still. I turned around and there was Helen.
I felt the embarrassment again now, more acutely. I turned back to my mother, whose dress, brought across from England in 1900, had originally been ankle-length. She’d hemmed it mid-calf but the skirt flared too much for that. It was overmodest and unsuited to both the climate and the current fashion, as I now knew. Her little boots were all wrong too. They were well cared for but old. Daddy, standing next to Mummy, was dressed in his old tweed coat, a gift from a family at the school and not quite long enough in the arms, and his corduroy pants from St. Vincent’s, also not quite long enough. They looked like a traveling theater troupe rather than a modern family.
Daddy looked afraid, I realized then. His arm was shaking too, I noticed, never a good sign.
Helen looked at me.
“I’m so sorry. Helen Burns,” I said finally, “this is my family.”
“I’m Emily,” my mother said in her best English, almost a different accent from the one she’d acquired from living so long in Australia. “My husband, Thomas. So very pleased to make your acquaintance.” My mother’s manners, like her clothes, were from another time. She hadn’t needed them for twenty years. We were never in this kind of company, only the parents of the children at the school, who were all struggling to make a life in a new country, like we were.
Helen pulled the barrier away immediately, waving Mummy and the rest to come on to the platform, nodding at the police officer to let him know they were with her.
“Mrs. Bright,” Helen said, “the pleasure is all mine. Maddie here has been invaluable to us on the visit.”
Mummy turned to me.
“And I didn’t pour tea on him once,” I said.
Helen laughed. “Well, that’s not quite true, is it, Maddie?”
Mummy looked horrified for a moment.
“We’re just joking,” I said to my mother. “I’m actually doing a different job.”
Helen turned to Daddy, who had remained where he was. “Mr. Bright—may I call you Thomas?” She didn’t wait for his answer. Perhaps she could see he wouldn’t answer. “I am Helen Burns. You wrote for Vanity Fair, where I was on the staff. If I may be bold, your poetry changed lives. You showed me what writing can do. We were all in awe of you, even the senior editors.” Helen grinned like a girl, like she had the first time I’d met her. She looked so much younger and less sophisticated.
I saw just how much she admired my father. But Daddy seemed hardly to register her presence. “Well, good, then,” he said gruffly. “Maddie, time to go home. Bea’s waiting.”
I’m sure Daddy didn’t mean to be rude. I could see he was becoming agitated. More people had come onto the platform now that the train had arrived. The barriers were not holding anyone back.
Daddy looked around nervously. I saw Mummy grab his hand and hold it tightly. “Of course it is,” Mummy said, looking at Helen and smiling. “Bert and John, take your father outside, would you? We’ll meet you on the corner where we waited this morning. All right, love?” she said to Daddy.
“I want to see inside the train,” John said.
Helen smiled at him. “I bet you’re John,” she said. I couldn’t believe she’d be able to tell the boys apart from the little I’d told her, although I had said John was the scallywag and he did look the part, his shirt untucked, a determined grin on his face, grease under his fingernails. On the other hand, all four boys met any reasonable definition of scallywag. “I think we’ll be able to get you on the train once H.R.H. is off.”
Mr. Waters came up to us then, and so getting Daddy outside was going to be impossible for a little while longer. Mummy looked worried and that worried me. She knew best what Daddy could manage.
Around us porters were unloading the train. There wasn’t as much of a crowd as the day we’d left because, Helen had told me, they hadn’t announced the prince’s return in the newspaper, but there were enough people to worry Daddy. Crowds bothered him now, and noise, and the station was filled with both.
I noticed his hand, the one Mummy wasn’t holding, had started to open and close into a fist slowly.
Mr. Waters nodded at me and then looked at Daddy. “You must be Maddie’s father. I’m Rupert Waters, H.R.H.’s man. Mr. Bright, I know you served, and Prince Edward would have liked to be here to thank you in person. I know he would have. I also want to tell you that your daughter has been of great service . . .” He trailed off, looking at Daddy more carefully.
Daddy, for his part, had started jiggling his leg now in the way he had. I knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Soon, he would begin to sweat, despite the winter day. And then he might begin to make noises, moan or cry out, and we would have to do something.
He took the hand Mr. Waters offered. I knew his own would be clammy. Mr. Waters noticed, God bless him. He looked at me and back at Daddy and nodded.
He didn’t even acknowledge Mummy or the boys. He smiled warmly, his eyes still on Daddy. “Mr. Bright, can I suggest we step into the private lounge which is just to our right? Very quiet in there. Pop under the ropes. That’s right. You too, Mrs. Bright, children. I think you’ll find it will suit us better.” He looked at Daddy again, narrowing his eyes. “Actually, Helen, perhaps you could follow with Mrs. Bright and the family in a few minutes. I’m just going to take Mr. Bright inside for a moment.”
He took Daddy’s arm and all but lifted him off the ground, as if he knew what state my father was in.
“So, John?” Helen said after they’d gone. “I do think you need to meet the train driver.”
She looked over at the policeman in charge. He nodded. The prince had already been taken off the train, it seemed. Helen had said they sometimes took him on the track side in order to avoid the crowds.
“Yes, I do,” John said to Helen.
Mummy turned to Helen to say something, and then I heard her sharp intake of breath, for there was Prince Edward himself in front of her, with his cousin Dickie behind him.
“Helen,” he called softly, so as not to arouse interest. “I seem to have found my way back to the train. They brought steps onto the other side and I was supposed to sneak off.” He giggled. “We got lost. Guilty as charged, but you can be sure I’ll blame the flag lieutenant if the admiral gets wind of it.”
He pulled a face then, his mouth downward, his eyes wide, like a clown.
Dickie laughed. “I am always to blame, David. Always.”
“Your Royal Highness,” I heard my mother say in a shaky voice. Even the boys were standing up straight, staring. The twins were smaller than him, but Bert was taller and John was the same height as him. They were all in awe now, seeing Mummy begin to curtsy.
He shook his head. “Please don’t,” he said. Mummy obeyed him and stood back up awkwardly.
He looked around the platform and pushed his hat down over his eyes, pulled up his coat collar. “Just a boy.” He grinned, then looked at Mummy more intently. “But I know you, don’t I?” he said.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “You came to Fox Hall with Bertie. Prince Albert, I mean. I can’t believe you remember.”
“Of course I do. You had the mean horse.”
“Yes,” she said. It was extraordinary to see the transformation. She was a lady again, on her father’s estate. I felt pride and a stab of deep sadness. I saw something of the girl she’d been before she came to Australia, something of what she’d lost.
“Spirited was how I thought of him,” she said. “Bertie fell but you told me not to worry at all because, even though he was a small boy, he was made entirely of rubber.”
“I remember,” he said, holding out a hand to take hers. “Emily is your name.” He watched her as he kissed her hand. “Bertie and I both had a little crush on you. Now, tell me what on earth you are doing here.”
“Maddie here, my daughter, has been in service on your train,” she said with considerable pride.
“The writer?” he said, looking at me and back at Mummy. I was chuffed he’d remembered but Mummy just looked bewildered.
“Of course she is,” he said. “I knew her face, Emily. I did. When I first met her, I said to Rupert, I know that face. Your Maddie, according to my man, has single-handedly transformed our life these last two days.” My mother looked even more confused, clearly wondering how a serving girl might transform anything. “So you are here in Australia, Emily.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “We came here before our own Edward was born.”
“And your husband is the poet?”
“Yes,” she said.
“And all these lads?”
She nodded. “Yes.” She looked more ashamed than proud, smoothed her skirt with her hands, as if she might hide one or two of them under there given a chance.
“And which one is named for me?” he said cheerily.
“He’s gone, sir,” she said. “Missing, presumed dead since 1918.”
“Oh,” the prince said. “How thoughtless of me. I knew that. Of course I did.” He looked pained. “Emily, I am so sorry. On behalf of my father, I am sorry, and I am personally sorry.” He looked suddenly as if he might cry.
“Thank you, sir,” Mummy said, and I saw there were tears in her eyes too. She always said “missing, presumed dead” when she mentioned Edward, and I wondered now if she still held out some hope, which could only be a vain hope by 1920, but who would blame her?
> The prince looked away then along the platform, where people were starting to notice the group of us. “Well, I must away to Government House,” he said, “or you’ll soon be in much worse shape, Emily. They will mob us. They always do. It is delightful to see you again, Mrs. . . .”
“I’m still Emily, sir.”
He nodded. “Then I’m surely still David.” He took her hand and kissed it again lightly. “Emily. Helen, make sure Emily and Mr. . . . Emily . . . are on the list for the dancing tonight.”
“I think, sir, the plan is there won’t be dancing after tonight’s dinner,” Helen said.
He smiled. “Of course there will.” He leaned in further, bringing both my mother and Helen into a huddle with him. They stood cheek to cheek. “Dickie, here, is a magician. He has managed to convince the admiral to allow the ship’s band to come to shore again, so it’s going to be quite the party.” His eyes were bright. Dickie was behind him, terribly proud to have made his cousin so happy. “Rupert couldn’t manage it, too afraid of Grigg and the Bolshie unions, but the admiral said, ‘Why not!’
“Maddie must come too, Dickie, don’t you think?” He grinned, his eyes on his young cousin. “Make sure you do,” he said, smiling at me.
I think I blushed.
“Emily,” he said. “So lovely to see you again after all these years.” He pointed to his chest and gave her a final look of sadness.
“Sir.” She started to curtsy.
He shook his head and put up a hand. “I’m just that scallywag boy with the terrified brother.” He took her hand again, shook it this time, and gave her one more long look before he went off with his cousin.
“Well, I never expected this,” Mummy said when he was gone, wiping her eyes now.
Nor did I, I wanted to say. But I was worried about Daddy now. Mr. Waters had gone off with him and I hoped he was all right.
* * *
I found them in the private lounge that was set up for the prince’s visit. They were drinking from crystal glasses we had on the train that Ruby told me had come with the prince all the way from England.
Lost Autumn Page 14
