by Anna Jacobs
She turned back towards the hall. ‘I’ve cooled down now.’
He put one hand on her arm to stop her. ‘What were you crying for?’
‘I wasn’t crying.’
‘Yes, you were.’
She glared at him, daring him to contradict her. ‘I was just hot and tired. That was sweat I was wiping away.’
‘Oh, yeah? You’d swear that on a Bible, would you?’
‘It’s none of your business what I do,’ she repeated, tossing her head. ‘Now, are we going inside together or do I go back on my own?’
He gave up the struggle and followed her in, admiring her slender figure in the flowery skirt and pale-pink top. Prettiest girl he’d ever met. Never mind the bet, he wanted to get to know her. And he would, too. ‘Will you have the next dance with me, then? Please?’
She relented. ‘Yeah, OK.’ At least this one didn’t try to paw you or press against you when you danced with him. She hid a smile. Well, he wouldn’t. He was too busy counting his steps.
They danced together three more times, but she wouldn’t allow him to take her home afterwards. ‘No, thank you. I always walk back with my friend Vera. She lives in the next street.’ Besides, her dad would kill her if she came home with a strange man.
As the two girls strolled along, enjoying the coolness of the night air after the hot little church hall, Vera chuckled and nudged Emily. ‘He’s nice, isn’t he?’
‘Who is?’
‘That new lad. Whatisname.’
‘Tom Norris, you mean?’
‘Yes, him. I think he fancies you. He kept watching you all night. And he didn’t ask anyone else to dance.’
Emily shrugged. ‘So?’
‘Don’t you like him? I think he’s got a real nice smile. He can’t help the freckles.’
‘He’s all right. Politer than some others I could mention, anyway.’ And he’d helped her to hide her tears. That had been kind. It still hit her badly sometimes, the longing to confide in her mother, the feeling of grief.
‘We’ll have you courting yet, Emily Baker.’
Emily stopped dead in her tracks and glared at her best friend. ‘Look, how many times do I have to tell you, Vera Morton: I’m not interested in boys. And I’m never, ever going to get married. I’m moving to the city as soon as I’ve enough money saved. In Perth I can train as a secretary and find myself an interesting job.’
‘Well, I can’t wait to get married, have my own house and start a family. I intend to be well and truly married by the time I’m twenty, and I want to live in Beeniup near my family.’
‘If I had a family like yours, I’d want to live near them, too.’
There was silence. They both knew what Emily’s dad was like.
As they reached her gate, Vera said, ‘Well, I reckon you’ll be married by then, too. We’ll be able to bring up our children together and we’ll stay friends all our lives.’
‘I’d like to stay friends and I’ll come and visit you often, but I’m still moving to Perth.’ Emily was quite determined about that.
The next day her father announced that he was marrying Megs as soon as it could be arranged. ‘No reason to wait. She doesn’t like where she’s living and—’
Emily stared at him in horror. ‘How can you, so soon after Mum?’
‘Your mother’s dead and a man needs a wife. Now, I don’t want any trouble from you about this, young lady.’
‘You’ll do what you want to anyway. You don’t care about me.’
‘I care enough to give you a home.’
‘Give me a home! Who had to pay the electricity bill last month?’
‘I was a bit short. I’ll pay you back after the wedding.’
She knew he wouldn’t. Oh, what did it matter? She was moving to Perth as soon as she had enough money. This news only made her more determined. She wasn’t buying any new clothes, or spending money on make-up from now on, she would save even harder.
Emily was a bit nervous about going to live on her own in the capital city, which she’d only visited two or three times in her whole life, but if she had some money behind her, she’d be all right. She had to be.
Apart from her father’s sister, whom she didn’t like, the only relatives she had left that she knew about were her uncle and cousins in England. It had been up to Emily to phone and tell them that her mother had died. Her uncle’s wife was ill and he couldn’t come to the funeral, but he’d sent a lovely condolences card and letter saying he hoped Emily would come and visit them one day.
Diana had also written to say how sorry she was and to tell her cousin about the lad she was going steady with, who sounded very nice. But Emily wasn’t going down that path.
Marriage was not for her.
Part Two
The wedding wasn’t a fancy affair. Emily attended but didn’t join the happy couple and their friends at the pub afterwards. And when they got back home, clearly the worse for wear, she stayed in her bedroom.
Megs was friendly enough, but she wasn’t good around the house.
Two weeks later, Emily came home after a frustrating day at work, when everything had gone wrong, and lost her temper at the sight of the unwashed breakfast dishes in the kitchen. ‘It’s not fair, Dad, expecting me to skivvy for you two as well as go out to work. Why can’t she help clear up? Other people’s mothers look after the house.’
Her father smelled of beer already and was unsteady on his feet. ‘Don’t call your stepmother she like that! She has a name, and a pretty one too. Anyway, she didn’t marry the house, she married me.’ He sniggered at his own joke, he always did.
In fact, Megs had scorned the idea of stopping work. Emily had heard them arguing about the way she let Arthur pay all the bills while keeping her own wages for herself. Every now and then she treated him at the pub to keep him sweet. She was good at managing him, you had to give her that.
Emily sighed. ‘All right, then. Why can’t Megs help more around the house?’
‘Because she needs more rest than a young ’un like you, so shut up an’ get on with it!’
She knew by the gleam in his eye what kept tiring Megs out. Honestly, the pair of them were worse than Mrs Brown’s old tom cat. ‘It’s not fair,’ Emily persisted, determined to make a stand. ‘She doesn’t leave the house until ten and she hasn’t even washed the breakfast things. And she comes home for a rest in the afternoons. I’ve been working hard all day and there’s still the tea to cook for you and me. We were rushed off our feet with the sale and I’m tired out.’
He growled ominously, and when she opened her mouth to continue the argument, he thumped her, something he’d never done before. She stood there willing herself not to cry, but she wanted to. How could he think so little of her? He was her father, he should love her.
He stood there staring, his mouth open, then looked down at his hand and backed away. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . You shouldn’t answer me back, though.’
She walked along to her bedroom and slammed the door.
That evening she went round to Vera’s and borrowed some make-up to cover the bruise on her cheek.
The following morning over breakfast Arthur took one look at her and complained, ‘You’re too young to wear that much make-up.’
‘I’ll wash it off, then.’
When she came back into the room, he swung her round to the light. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a bruise. You gave it to me last night.’
A pause, then he said sulkily, ‘You shouldn’t be so bloody cheeky. You’d – er – better put that make-up on again.’
‘No. I’m too young. You said so.’
Anger rumbled in his throat, but Megs, who had just come yawning in, leaned against him and jerked her head at her stepdaughter to indicate she should get out quickly.
Emily could hear them arguing as she got ready for work.
‘You shouldn’t have hit her!’ Megs said.
‘I didn’t mean to, but she’s always answering
me back.’
‘That’s because she’s grown up now, not a child. Did you tell her you were sorry?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, don’t do it again. I don’t like men who bash young girls.’
Megs came along to Emily’s bedroom. ‘You all right, darl’?’
‘Yes.’
‘I can lend you some make-up to hide that bruise.’
‘No, thank you. I’ve got to go to work now.’
When her workmates asked her how she’d got the bruise, she told them, ‘My dad hit me.’ Which caused a sensation.
Later that night, after the hotel closed, Arthur came and threw open her bedroom door without knocking. ‘What did you tell people I hit you for?’
‘Because you did.’
‘Once! I’ve never laid a finger on you before. And lately, you’d try the patience of a saint.’
She pulled the covers up to her chin and listened to him ranting. At last he went away. There were no embarrassing sounds from the next bedroom that night. She heard him trying to coax Megs and smiled at the sharp refusal.
Bill seemed to have made friends with the newcomer, so Emily had found herself walking behind him and Vera with Tom. He didn’t say much, but he smiled a lot. He had a nice, gentle smile, which lit up his face. She didn’t mind being with him, not in a group anyway. But she wasn’t going steady with anyone and she hoped she’d made that plain to him.
Her heart sank when she found Tom Norris waiting for her outside the Co-op after work. His face lit up at the sight of her and two of her workmates made comments about ‘young love’.
Emily hesitated. She could hardly walk past him when it was clear he’d come there specially to meet her, but she hated him to see her with a big ugly bruise on her face. In the end she took a deep breath and moved forward. ‘Hello!’
Joan and Connie – both married women – walked on, smiling broadly, which left Emily and Tom standing there together looking like a couple.
‘I’ll walk home with you,’ he said, without so much as a by-your-leave.
‘I can get home my own way, thank you very much.’ No young man had ever met her after work. The other women would tease her about this for weeks and the whole town would consider her to be going out with Tom. She could feel herself blushing. What must that look like with the bruise?
He ignored her unenthusiastic response, fell into place beside her and said, ‘Who hit you?’
‘Mind your own business!’ She walked on more quickly.
‘Tell me who did it!’
‘What’s it got to do with you?’
‘I’m going to thump him, that’s what.’
She stopped dead in her tracks. ‘Why would you do that?’
He looked sideways at her and she could see anger sparkling in his eyes. ‘Because it’s not right, hitting girls. Men who hit girls should be taken out and shot, like the mongrels they are.’
She stared at him in amazement. ‘But you hardly know me. Why should it bother you whether someone hits me or not?’
He turned bright red, swallowed hard and began walking again, hands thrust deep into his pockets. ‘I don’t like bullies.’
Emily looked sideways at him. He smelled strongly of soap and had a clean shirt on, so he must have gone home from work to wash and change before meeting her. She could feel herself softening towards him. He wasn’t much taller than she was, but he looked strong and healthy. He seemed honest, too, and gentle, in spite of the scowl presently decorating his face.
She patted his arm. ‘Look, Tom, it’s kind of you to worry about me, but there’s no need, really. He won’t do it again. Megs saw to that.’
‘So it was your dad!’ Tom digested this for the length of a street. ‘What did he hit you for?’
‘I cheeked him. I’m fed up of doing all the housework for him an’ Megs. It isn’t fair.’
‘He still shouldn’t have hit you. And why do you have to do all the housework? Your stepmother should be doing some of it, surely?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, but shook his head and repeated, ‘And anyway, men shouldn’t thump women like that!’
She shook her head in exasperation. Once again, Tom Norris was proving more stubborn than she’d expected. ‘Look, it’s only happened this once and he said he was sorry, so it doesn’t matter. Right?’
‘It does matter to me.’
‘Well, I’m getting away from home next April. I’ve been saving up – I’ll go the minute I’ve enough money – so just leave things alone.’
Tom stopped walking so she had to stop, too. When he reached out towards her bruised face, the gentle butterfly touch of his fingertips made her feel funny inside. They started walking again, but neither spoke. She was sure people were peeping out of windows at them, sure word would be all round town by the next day that she was going steady with Tom Norris.
She sighed with relief as they reached her gate. ‘This is where I live. I have to go in and get Dad’s tea.’
‘Will you be all right?’
‘Yes, of course.’
He swallowed hard and said in a rush, ‘Would you come to the pictures with me on Saturday night?’
‘Pictures?’ She was going to say no, but he was looking so pink and agonized that somehow she couldn’t bear to hurt him.
‘I might. I’d have to bring my friend, Vera. We always go out together on Saturdays.’ Maybe that would stop people getting ideas about her and Tom being a couple.
‘Is Vera the girl you were with at the dance?’
‘Yes. She’s my best friend.’
‘All right, then. She can come too. But I’m not paying for her. Only for you.’
Emily jerked back to the present. ‘We can pay for ourselves, thank you very much!’
‘Not if you come out with me, you can’t!’ He thrust his hands deep into his trouser pockets and scowled at her. ‘If I take you out, I’m the one who’s paying.’
‘It doesn’t matter who pays.’
‘It matters to me. I like to do things properly.’
His face was all scrunched up, he was frowning so hard. She suppressed a sudden urge to giggle. He was such a serious fellow. But nice. ‘Oh, very well!’ She’d go halves with Vera afterwards on the ticket.
Her dad hadn’t come home yet, thank goodness. She changed into an old skirt to keep her work one nice and got on with the housework.
That Tom Norris! What had got into him? She’d have to ask Vera to tell people she wasn’t going steady with him.
But would they believe that after seeing her at the pictures with him?
The sooner she got away from here the better.
Beeniup, being the main town of the district, had a proper cinema, not just film showings in the church hall. The programme at the Odeon ran from Tuesdays to Saturdays, with a new film each week, although occasionally a film was brought back a second time – ‘by popular demand’ it always said in the newspaper. Sometimes plays were put on there, too, by the amateur theatrical group or the school.
Jim Hodson had built the rough little cinema himself on a bit of spare land his family had owned for years and he was there every session, taking the money and rubbing his hands together with pleasure over the clinking coins. His wife ran the refreshment kiosk and his daughter carried round a tray of ice creams in the interval. They were fond of money, the Hodsons.
The young of Beeniup and districts patronized the cinema regularly, whatever the film showing, because there wasn’t even a café to sit around in. The only café did meals – mostly roast of the day and two veg – and closed at seven thirty sharp in the evening, and that was that. During the hot summer months, the Memorial Gardens were often full of young folk taking the air and from there they could go and walk along by the creek, where Rotary had put in a nature trail. The creek was reduced to a mere trickle during the hot, dry summer weather but it never stopped flowing, at least.
On the Saturday night Tom escorted Emily into the cinema with a proprietorial air and Vera fol
lowed. Bill met them in the foyer, pairing off with Vera straight away.
Tom bought Emily a box of chocolates, which left her speechless. No one had ever bought her a box of chocolates before and it felt – nice. But she couldn’t help being aware that they were once again the focus of considerable interest, so she kept her distance from Tom, not giving him a chance even to hold her hand.
During the interval between the shorts and the feature film, Vera stayed inside the cinema, talking and laughing with Bill. So Emily found herself walking outside alone with Tom, who claimed he needed to stretch his legs.
‘What’s wrong with Stan?’ she demanded. ‘He kept twisting round to stare at us while the shorts were on and now he’s followed us outside, and he’s still staring.’
‘I don’t know.’
Tom’s face was flaming again. There was something fishy going on here, Emily decided. Perhaps the other lads had dared him to invite her out. He didn’t seem the sort to take the initiative without a push. ‘Just why did you invite me out tonight, Tom?’
He had to swallow several times before he managed to say hoarsely, ‘Because I wanted to.’
‘Why? You hardly know me.’
His face was lit up like a packet of Redhead matches. ‘Because you – you’re pretty.’
She giggled suddenly. He looked so embarrassed, poor thing. He grinned back and the tension eased.
‘Sorry.’ She patted his hand. ‘I shouldn’t tease you.’
He beamed at her again.
Vera was right, she decided. He did have a nice smile.
‘You can tease me any time you like, Emily,’ he managed after much swallowing and wriggling.
Honestly, what could you do with a fellow like him? It’d be like treading on a kitten if you spoke sharply to him.
When they went back inside after the interval, Vera and Bill were cuddled up together, his arm round her shoulders, her head resting against him.
As the film began Tom fidgeted so much that in the end Emily dug him in the ribs and hissed, ‘What’s the matter?’
