After She Left

by Penelope Hanley

  ‘There’s a difference between knowledge of history and getting stuck in the past. Focus on your future, not your grandmother’s past.’

  ‘But I have to do this for my honours essay.’

  ‘You don’t have to! Nobody made you pick this dreadful, dangerous subject.’

  ‘Dangerous? How do you mean?’

  ‘Deirdre knew some strange people, dangerous people.’ Before Keira could ask further questions, Maureen changed tack. ‘There’s more to life than studying, and what about when you finish? I’d like to see you settled down with someone serious, not just dating and living in an unstable group house.’ Maureen lit a cigarette with her chrome lighter. She rarely referred to Steve, not sure of the morality of the situation, even though Keira had explained to her that there was no situation.

  ‘Nothing wrong with having fun. And Nessie fills the gap in my life of the sister you never gave me.’

  ‘You can’t say we didn’t try.’ Maureen inhaled, with an expression of revelling in a rare luxury instead of the repetitive necessity this ritual was to her countless times a day.

  ‘It wasn’t as if you had a choice,’ said Keira. ‘You had to bring as many Catholics into the world as came along!’ Keira bit into a biscuit.

  ‘We used the rhythm method,’ said Maureen, sounding smug.

  Keira snorted with contempt, spraying biscuit crumbs, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. ‘That’s why you had the boys after me, four of them. You can’t predict always when your period comes so that makes the rhythm method useless.’

  ‘Sometimes one’s period is irregular. So you do end up with the odd baby,’ said Maureen, smoking with equanimity. ‘But you end up with four or five instead of ten or eleven.’

  ‘Well, it’s a pity that none of those odd babies was a girl.’

  ‘You could try having your own girls.’ Maureen tapped a short cylinder of ash off her cigarette onto the metal ashtray. ‘That would be the real pity – if you left it too late. Before you know it, you’ll be thirty.’

  ‘Just because you were a child bride doesn’t mean that that’s the only way to go.’

  ‘Don’t exaggerate, Keira. I was eighteen. And time’s getting on for you, that’s all. I’d like to see you settled.’

  ‘Marriage is a licence to take each other for granted.’

  Maureen raised an eyebrow. ‘Your father and I don’t take each other for granted.’

  ‘You reckon? If a couple live together, they’re free. The church and state shouldn’t come into it.’

  Her mother continued smoking, saying nothing. Keira reinforced her position.

  ‘The most important thing is freedom.’

  Maureen looked at Keira from behind a fine grey veil of smoke that vanished as their glances locked.

  ‘My darling daughter,’ she said, ‘the most important thing is love.’

  *

  The following Saturday morning, at the end of the first floor of the Imperial Arcade, with a view over Pitt Street, the Café Continental was busy. Keira was taking orders and serving tea and coffee, apple streudels, raisin toast and light meals. Three hours till she knocked off and she would just have time to spend some of her money before the Asian Emporium next door closed.

  The Asian Emporium was an Aladdin’s Cave of treasures – lacquered paper umbrellas in crimson, buttercup yellow or Prussian blue, silk kimono dressing gowns in a similar range of glorious colours with dragons embroidered on the back, brass lanterns, white paper lightshades, glazed pottery, jade bangles and metal trivets in the shape of turtles or frogs.

  The man with the dark blond curly hair and bedroom eyes was in again, making his way towards a side booth. All thoughts of the Asian Emporium vanished.

  Keira brought him a short black, sliding the steaming, aromatic cup in front of him.

  ‘You remembered!’ he said.

  ‘All part of the service,’ she said ironically.

  He held her glance and said, ‘Thank you. Would you care to join me?’

  ‘Sadly, I’m working.’

  ‘Happily, I’m not working. So at least I can watch you working.’

  ‘I’m sure that would be very boring for you,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sure that it wouldn’t.’

  Keira smiled and turned to go, but the man said, ‘Before you go, can you just answer one question for me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He affected a self-mocking and pretentiously formal tone and said, ‘Is anyone taking up an inordinate amount of your time?’

  Keira burst out laughing. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘it just so happens that I’m not going out with anyone at the moment.’

  He broke into a broad smile. ‘Excellent,’ he said.

  9

  MAUREEN

  September 1957

  ‘Hey, Mum?’ asked Keira, pouring milk into cups for her younger brothers.

  ‘Mmhmm?’ said Maureen, spreading Vegemite onto pieces of toast.

  ‘What is the name of the boat she’s coming on?’

  ‘It’s a ship. The San Amada.’

  ‘Will I call her Granny?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘That’s what I call Dad’s mum. So what will I call your mum?’ asked Keira, bending to pat Lucky, the latest edition of the family’s customary Airedale terrier. She stood Lucky on her hind legs and held her front paws, making her do a little dance.

  ‘She is not a Granny sort of person, cosy and comfortable – you’ll see. Call her by her name: Deirdre. She will probably want that,’ said Maureen, throwing an exasperated glance at Jim. ‘When I was little, she made me call her Deirdre, as if we were equals. Well, she was wrong there. I was the grownup and she the child.’

  ‘What time is she coming?’ asked Keira.

  ‘This afternoon. Three o’clock.’

  ‘That’s ages away.’ Keira released Lucky.

  ‘It will be here before you know it,’ said Maureen. ‘Now take this toast over to the table, please. Jim, here’s your cup of tea. If you do that I can rescue these boiled eggs without tripping over the dog – Lucky! Get out of the kitchen!’

  *

  Three o’clock did come around, and Deirdre did want Keira to call her Deirdre.

  ‘And this is Lucky,’ said Rowan. ‘She can shake hands. Sit, Lucky, sit. Good. Now, paw?’ The dog raised her paw to Deirdre, who shook it.

  ‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ she said. ‘What a clever little dog.’

  ‘Have you got any pets, Deirdre?’ asked Jimmy.

  ‘No. We travel too much. They would get lonely.’

  ‘Our other grandma – and granddad – they have a budgerigar in a cage,’ said Rowan.

  ‘A bird in a cage puts all Heaven in a rage,’ said Deirdre. ‘William Blake wrote that. He was a poet, an artist and a wise man.’

  ‘What about an animal in a cage?’ asked Rowan.

  ‘That’s not as bad. They can be happy if they have enough space. Why don’t I take you to the zoo tomorrow and we can see? Is that all right?’ she asked, looking at Maureen and Jim. The children were excited about the prospect, the younger two jumping up and down with anticipation.

  ‘Please, Mum!’

  ‘Please, please, please, please!’

  Maureen exchanged a worried glance with Jim and said, ‘I suppose so. You will look after them, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course!’

  The family celebrated Deirdre’s arrival over dinner, everyone trying hard to win Deirdre’s attention, and Deirdre went to the spare room straight afterwards, ‘to be fresh in the morning for you lot.’

  ‘Hey, Mum?’ said Keira, as she wiped up a dinner plate. Her father was close by, his arms raised to change the light bulb, which had just blown in the kitchen. He handed the old one to Maureen.

  ‘Aren’t you marvellous?’ Maureen said to Jim.

  ‘Just tall,’ said Jim.

  ‘Yes, Keira?’ said Maureen, putting another cleaned plate in the dish-rack.

  ‘I think
you were right about the “Granny” name, even if she did want it.’

  ‘Oh, yes? Why?’

  ‘We-ell,’ drawled Keira, ‘I don’t think any granny would wear blue and purple together, and with a red beret and red stockings.’

  Maureen and Jim laughed. Jim put the spent light bulb in the rubbish bin and reached out and tousled her hair. ‘You’re right, Keira,’ he said, ‘Deirdre doesn’t fit the pattern for a granny. When God created her He threw away the mould.’

  Above Keira’s head, he mouthed to Maureen, ‘Thank God!’ And they both laughed.

  *

  The next day was Sunday, and Deirdre was refusing to go to Mass with them. Predictable, thought Maureen. She was as stubborn as ever.

  Maureen reasoned, ‘What about as an example to the children – your grandchildren?’ She and Deirdre were in the kitchen, having a cup of tea together before the busy day began.

  ‘Maybe they need me as an example of someone with the courage of her convictions.’

  ‘Oh, for Heaven’s sake. Enough of the high-minded morality. We lead simple lives here and we’re all Catholics and I think as a guest you might try to fit in, for once in your life.’

  ‘I’m not talking high-minded morality, so. It’s been a conviction of mine for the past twenty or so years that the Catholic church is full to the lid with hypocrisy and life-denying restrictions.’ Deirdre drank her tea with equanimity.

  Maureen struggled to contain the irritation with which she was full to the lid.

  ‘Will you keep your voice down, please?’ she said. ‘Can’t you just respect the fact that Jim and I are bringing them up in a particular way, a way that we believe is best? We don’t want them asking questions, which they will do if you refuse to go to Mass with us.’

  ‘It’s a good thing for children to ask questions.’

  ‘Argh,’ said Maureen.

  ‘After you return I’ll take them to the zoo and you and Jim can have a nice day to yourselves,’ said Deirdre, her voice gentle but firm.

  But Maureen did not have a nice day. She gritted her teeth through Mass, and only reluctantly let Deirdre take the children to the zoo. Jim was called out on an emergency plumbing job in the afternoon. Maureen tried to busy herself with various chores that needed doing, but could not keep her mind on them, fretting and worrying about how the children might be. She occupied her hands with baking a pineapple upside-down cake for dessert.

  ‘They’re not back yet,’ she said when Jim returned. ‘I hope everything’s all right.’

  ‘It will be,’ he said. ‘She’s probably taken them to a cafe. When did she say they would be back?’

  ‘She didn’t.’

  Jim and Maureen ended up having dinner by themselves, as it grew ever darker outside. Finally they heard the sounds of them arriving.

  ‘You’re back, at last!’ said Maureen, leaping from her chair and doing a quick head count. ‘Why are you so late?’

  ‘I patted a koala bear!’ said Sean, as Lucky leapt up on him.

  ‘So did I,’ said Jimmy. The children all crowded round their mother, excited and happy.

  ‘We saw tigers!’ said Michael.

  ‘And lions. They went “ROOOOAAAAARRR!” And it was really scary!’ said Sean. He was bouncing with excitement.

  ‘Deirdre did these amazing drawings,’ said Rowan. ‘Show her, Deirdre. And show Dad.’ They went from the kitchen to the dining room.

  ‘Have you had your tea?’ said Jim.

  ‘We had meat pies and ice cream!’ said Jimmy. ‘We went on the tram and ferry and the ferry and tram home. It was great.’

  ‘We had lemonade,’ said Sean.

  ‘Good that you’ve had a nutritious meal,’ said Jim ironically, glancing at Maureen.

  ‘I’m glad you had fun,’ said Maureen. ‘Sean, can you take off those muddy boots before it’s all over the house?’ She sat him on a chair to help him untie the shoelaces. ‘We just didn’t think you’d be so late. Deirdre, we expected you home hours ago! We were worried.’

  Deirdre looked vague and put her sketchpad on the table.

  ‘Here’s a lemur,’ she said.

  ‘I loved the lemurs,’ said Keira. ‘Look at Deirdre’s drawings of them!’

  ‘They’re extraordinary animals,’ said Deirdre. ‘They have a spiritual significance. They originated in Lemuria, which was the place before Atlantis. Oh, and look at the zebras. And the children loved the giraffes.’

  ‘Two boy giraffes had a fight! They were whacking each other with their long necks!’ said Jimmy, demonstrating with his arm against Michael’s neck. ‘Whack! Whack!’

  ‘Owwww!’ said Michael, thumping him back.

  ‘Will you two stop doing that?’ said Maureen, pulling the boys apart.

  ‘And we saw the zebras,’ said Jimmy, ‘and Sean got lost.’

  Jim and Maureen looked from Jimmy to Deirdre. Everyone was quiet.

  ‘You weren’t going to tell us?’ asked Jim mildly.

  ‘O’ course I was goin’ to tell you.’ Deirdre looked evasive. ‘There was so much other exciting news to tell first is all!’ She smiled. ‘An’ here they all are, back safe an’ sound.’

  ‘Safe an’ sound!’ echoed Michael and Jimmy.

  Maureen looked meaningfully at her mother. She sat down and said, ‘It’s bath time for this lot soon, but first I want to know what happened.’

  ‘Deirdre was doing all these drawings at the zebra cage,’ said Keira.

  Maureen put her hand up and said, ‘I want to hear from Deirdre how it happened.’

  ‘Nothing happened,’ said Deirdre. ‘I just … you know, go into a sort of trance because in order to draw, I feel at one with what it is I am –’

  ‘You went into a trance! You were supposed to be looking after my children!’ Maureen said.

  ‘There’s no need to scream at me! Specially now they’re all home again, safe an’ sound, so.’

  ‘If you repeat that phrase one more time I will scream!’

  ‘Reassuring to see that you returned them to us,’ said Jim, ‘reassuring also to see that you haven’t changed, Deirdre. When did you say you were going again?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be like that, it was a simple mistake an’ I’ll try and make it up to you in the next three weeks. ’Tis only a pity that Owen couldn’t be here too, but as communism is still outlawed he didn’t dare risk it.’

  Maureen sighed. ‘We invited you here …’

  ‘And don’t think that I don’t appreciate it.’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ said Jim. ‘Your gratitude is heartwarming but looking after small children requires some degree of responsibility.’

  ‘You gave us such a scare,’ said Maureen, ‘when I think of what could have happened...’

  ‘Nothing did happen.’

  ‘But it could have. You are incapable of seeing the gravity of the situation!’

  ‘Oh, darlin’, don’t be upset with me. It’s so wonderful to see you again an’ you makin’ such a success out of family life. You were born responsible. Let’s just try to enjoy the time we have together.’ Deirdre held out her arms to her daughter.

  Maureen emitted a long, drawn out sigh.

  ‘Lord, give me strength,’ she said under her breath. After a long moment she went to Deirdre to receive the proffered hug.

  10

  DEIRDRE

  March 1932

  Charles had bought two carvings from the Notanda Gallery. The first was a possum door-knocker and the second a small wood-framed mirror, both carved by his and Deirdre’s friend, Gerry. The possum, with its ringtail up and its front paws down, sat at eye-level on the front door, awaiting guests to lift its head and knock it against its hardwood chest – Thud! Thud! Thud! – as they had on this particular Saturday evening when Charles and Deirdre were having a party.

  Women checked their hair and makeup in the small, cleverly-framed mirror, which hung in the living room. The frame was carved, like the door-knocker, from Queensland Bla
ckburn, into stylised possums lying tail to tail and head to head around the perimeter.

  A group in the living room were having an animated discussion about art, the noise level escalating.

  ‘It’s all very well for you lot to follow your passion,’ Howard said, ‘but how are you going to make a living?’

  ‘You have a job and follow your passion part time,’ said Anna, a secretary and potter.

  ‘Deirdre did some artist’s modelling before she married Charles,’ said Janet, sipping her wine. ‘And Olivia did before she met you. It’s good to work in the same milieu as one’s passion, even if it’s not possible to make enough money from your art itself.’

  ‘If one’s lucky enough to have a job!’ said Anna’s husband, Mike.

  ‘No, it’s better not to work in the field of your passion because that spoils it. It will just become a job and lose its romance,’ said someone else.

  ‘Oh, romance – that’s why we do it – I’d forgotten!’ said Anna ironically. ‘I’ll remember that next time I’m up to my elbows in mud trying to stop my pot collapsing!’

  Deirdre nodded. ‘Art is hard work. It doesn’t always look that way but it is. And we hardly make any money but that’s not why we do it.’

  ‘Why do you do it?’ asked Howard.

  ‘To discover something,’ said Deirdre. ‘I’m an explorer of the landscape and I’m searching …’

  ‘We make art to find an answer to a question we didn’t know we were asking,’ said Margo.

  ‘To make meaning from the madness and chaos of life,’ said Anna.

  ‘Art makes us feel good,’ said Mike.

  ‘No,’ said Charles. ‘If merely feeling good is it, then drunkenness would be the supremely valid experience.’

  ‘All right then, can you define art?’ asked Howard. He lit a cigarette.

  He was met with a clamour of passionate answers.

  ‘Art is the lie that tells the truth.’

  ‘Good painting is like good cooking – it can be tasted but not explained.’

  ‘Art is the daughter of pleasure.’

  ‘Art is what endures. Art is truth. When grubby politics and corrupt business eat themselves up with their greed, art will remain.’

  ‘Stop! Stop!’ said Howard, holding up his hands as if protecting himself. ‘I ask a simple question and get battered about the head with morality and mysticism! Back to my original question. Can anyone tell me if it’s possible to make a decent living from art?’