‘Go on, Bubby, you’re the reader in the family.’ Nan leaned forward and resettled the puppy that was sitting on her lap. ‘Read us that bit from the Bible. Use ta hate most o’ them stories but I love this one ’bout the wildflowers!’
These were the only times the dusty St James Bible that had belonged to William came down off the mantelpiece. Sometimes at night when the talk had turned to Martin O’Leary or Richie or Petal, St Matthew’s account of the Sermon on the Mount was the only thing that calmed them down.
‘Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow . . .’ Aunty Bubby’s voice was always soft and low. ‘They neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even King Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.’
‘That’s the ones! Them words was the only comfortin’ thing I ever heard in that home!’ Nan would say time and time again. ‘Never stopped thinkin’ ’bout that land o’ pretty wildflowers.’
Star and I used to play ‘Wild Africa’ games in Nan’s garden. It was a jungle. There were birches, elms, claret ash and Lombardy poplars around the edges. There were bottlebrushes, oleander, hibiscus, ornamental fruit trees, wild wattle, photinias, hickory, camellias, honeysuckle, lilacs and roses encircling grevillea, daffodils, jonquils, crocus, hollyhocks, stocks, tulips, day lilies, dahlias, columbines, sunflowers, marigolds, bearded iris, foxgloves, Canterbury bells, corn lilies, cannas, tiger lilies, violets, daisies, forget-me-nots, wisteria, azaleas, lupins, larkspurs, pansies, daphnes, jasmine, freesias, Madonna lilies, hyacinths, primroses, petunias, gladioli, agapanthus, mountain cyclamens which unfurled in winter like the battered and strangely beautiful feet of ballet dancers, flat-faced nasturtiums in high summer, and always petals flying freely in the wind no matter what the season. The garden was never bare; there was a flower for all seasons. There were no organised beds just tangles of vines and masses of flowers. Somewhere in the middle there was a rock pond with a clump of wild water lilies, their flat petals green and serene in winter but on a summer’s day even under the generous canopy of the claret ash the claw-like blooms burnt so purple they’d seer your eyes if you stared too long.
Of all the flowers in Nan’s garden I loved the bearded irises best of all. They were tall and elegant and came in colours from copper red to royal purple to sky blue to dusky pink, from lemon yellow to rich cream to pure white. Nan used to call them flag lilies because of their billowy, showy heads that fluttered in the late spring winds. On wet November days, though, they reminded me of sad old ladies with a secret to tell.
Nights sometimes ended like this, Petal forgotten for a while, the women finally quiet, mesmerised by a picture of the lilies of the field soothing their turbulent memories.
Coming home
I was born into the purpleness of October. The wisteria and lilac were in full bloom and grass lilies quilted the hills, or so the Aunties tell me. Petal developed an ulcer when she was expecting me and when I was born she had to stay in hospital for weeks after. I came home with Aunty Bubby and Aunty Boo. Apparently I screamed the first time Aunty Bubby handed me to Petal after she got back from hospital. So we got off to a bad start.
Petal came and went, drifting in and out of my life. When I was two I saw Nan sewing baby clothes and Aunty Bubby knitting little jackets, I thought they were for my black doll, Lulu, which Petal brought for me once when she came to visit. It wasn’t until I saw Aunty Bubby and Aunty Boo packing Petal’s suitcase with all the new clothes that I thought were for Lulu that I was told about a new baby. I was really mad. Bloody Petal, she wrecked everything.
All the women made a big fuss of the new baby, heaps more than they did about black lambs or new puppies. Petal was tired. She’d sit up in bed and feed my sister, Star, but then curl up and go to sleep again. Aunty Bubby would walk the baby and put her to bed.
Once I got into big trouble for trying to pick up Star while she slept in her pram out in the sun, when Petal went off to the bathroom to get her new red nail polish.
‘Don’t touch that baby!’ she bellowed as she grabbed my hands and shook her head vigorously. ‘A baby is easier to break than a doll or a lamb. Never, ever try to pick her up again without asking one of the big women or I’ll jar ya good an’ proper!’
I left my sister well alone after that until she started walking and talking and wouldn’t break so easily. But by then Petal had gone again.
The next time Petal came home she brought Star a set of wooden animals and me a big copy of The Wizard of Oz. I loved the coloured pictures. But I really seemed to annoy Petal.
‘That child is so dreamy,’ she’d say to the Aunties when she thought I wasn’t listening.
‘She’s not like you, Petal, she’s real quiet,’ Aunty Boo said.
‘I dunno where she got those pigeon toes. Not from me, that’s for sure.’
‘Her feet are only slightly turned, dear, we don’t notice it.’
I sat on the back steps and read The Wizard of Oz from cover to cover. I was confused and went off to find Aunty Bubby in the kitchen. Petal was stretched out on the couch blowing smoke rings into the air.
‘How come the scarecrow who has no brain thinks of all the good ideas and the tin man with no heart is always so kind and the lion with no courage is so brave?’
‘They been told that they’re brainless, heartless an’ cowardly, dear. Ya know if ya tell someone something fer long enough they’ll start to believe it.’
‘That’s a bloody good story that one,’ Aunty Boo said, shaking off her work boots. ‘What’s the name o’ that little dog that works it all out, Sunny?’
‘Toto.’
Aunty Bubby took the pie she was making for dinner out of the oven.
‘Put ya book away now, love. You an’ me an’ Star should go fer a walk on the hill.’
‘That bloody kid thinks too much,’ I heard Petal say between puffs as I put my book on the shelf in the back bedroom.
‘She don’t want ta be a film star, Petal. When she grows up she’ll get a thinkin’ job, earn lotsa money an’ look afta her ol’ Aunties.’
When we got back Petal was still lying on the couch.
‘When ya goin’ ta town next?’ Petal looked at Aunty Boo through the smoke haze that she blew from her mouth. ‘I wanna go an’ stay with Rose fer a few days.’
‘Ya only jus’ got here, Petal, been home less than a week.’
‘It’ll jus’ be a coupla days. I got things ta do. Can ya take me tomorrow?’
‘We’ll see. I got fruit trees ta prune.’
Petal was restless and moody. She spent most of her time in the back bedroom, listening to the wireless, smoking and painting her nails.
‘Ya might like ta think about doin’ a course at one of them technical places, Petal. One close by an’ handy, as ya know.’ Aunty Bubby raised her voice hopefully as Petal skulked in to have her breakfast at nearly lunchtime. ‘Ya can do floristry, dress-makin’, secretarial stuff –’
‘Nah,’ Petal cut her off. ‘I don’t have the brains or the patience to do one of them courses. But speakin’ o’ town, is anyone goin’ there today?’
‘I don’t think so today, love.’
‘Well I’m gunna pack me things an’ walk. If I get kidnapped or beaten up on the way be youse two’s fault. Can ya heat me some water for a bath?’ she called over her shoulder as she took a tray of tea and toast back to her room.
A few minutes later Aunty Bubby and I were at the wood heap, getting kindling to light the chip heater. As we walked back inside, Aunty Bubby handed Aunty Boo a plate of tomato sandwiches for lunch. ‘I think ya betta take her, Boo,’ she ventured.
Aunty Boo wiped the sweat from her brow. ‘Does that bloody girl think I dunno what she’s schemin’? Does she think we’re all stupid? I read the bloody paper, don’t I? Jeez, I could shake that bloody girl!’
Nan and Aunty Bubby looked at the f
loor.
‘Won’t matta how hard ya shake the girl, sista,’ Aunty Bubby sighed. ‘She’s got a wild heart an’ she’s in love an’ no reasonin’ in the world ain’t gunna change that.’
I figured that Aunty Bubby read enough love stories to know this even though I’d never seen her with a man in all my life.
‘We jus’ gotta let her go an’ hope fer the best,’ Aunty Bubby added.
‘That’s right, daughter!’ Nan’s lips were sagging and I knew she wasn’t happy. ‘Ya can’t go runnin’ down Petal’s man, no matta whatchya think. It’ll only push ’er away.’
A few days after Petal had gone Star and I were playing in the garden. I was teaching Star to sing the alphabet to the tune of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’ and showing her how to write letters and numbers in the soft dirt beside the garden path. It was late spring and the sweet, sad, short-lived smell of lily of the valley swirled through the air and the oriental poppies blazed like scarlet pom-poms swaying in the light breeze. I heard a commotion from inside the house.
‘Run, Bub, an’ straighten up the house!’ Aunty Boo yelled from the top of an apricot tree at the back of the garden.
‘Ya there, Mum?’ Aunty Bubby yelled as she ran around scooping up clutter. ‘Put the kettle on, looks like we got a visitor.’
I looked up to see a flash red and white car, with what looked like fish fins on the back, snaking its way down the road to our house.
Much as she riled me, Petal looked beautiful as she bounced out of the car in a tasselled jacket, fawn leather mini-skirt and matching Cuban-heeled boots. I saw Nan’s and the Aunties’ eyes bulge as Petal flounced towards them. She was wearing a hat and it wasn’t until she threw it up in the air that we noticed she’d cut her hair again, this time shorter than ever. Aunty Bubby’s jaw dropped and Nan gasped loudly, but Aunty Boo was wild and didn’t mince words.
‘What the hell ya think ya doin’, Petal, lookin’ like an Alabama hooker an’ bringin’ strangers ta our house?’
But Petal just laughed. ‘He ain’t no stranger ta me, he’s my Dinny an’ he come ta get to know the kids. He’s real settled now.’
Aunty Boo dug her gnarled hands into her bony hips. ‘Yeah, well what’s he doin’ still followin’ them circuses fer?’
Petal rolled her eyes. ‘They’re called circuits!’ She glared at Aunty Boo and dug her delicate hands into her own bony hips. ‘Rodeo circuits, not circuses.’
Petal scooped up Star, grabbed my hand and led us to the car. I couldn’t stop staring. The man looked like Marshall Matt Dillon from a book we had about the American Wild West called Gunsmoke.
‘Hey, little girls, I got you some presents,’ he drawled.
And he did have presents too. There was a signet ring each and a garland of coloured ribbons, but best of all there were two pairs of little white boots with Cuban heels and tassels, just like Petal’s.
‘Are these really for us?’ I asked.
‘Surely are. Put ’em on!’
Star and I hated shoes but these were an exception. We were smitten and ran off to show Nan and the Aunties. But they weren’t gushing about our ribbons and rings and boots like they usually were when we got dressed up.
‘He looks like Marshall Matt Dillon,’ I announced excitedly.
‘Hmmm.’ Aunty Bubby twitched nervously, trying as always to be diplomatic.
But Nan and Aunty Boo weren’t having a bar of it.
‘Fellas like that betta off stayin’ in story books,’ Nan huffed.
‘Wish ’e’d ride off in ta the bloody sunset,’ Aunty Boo sniffed.
She had a knife in one hand and a tomato in the other, so I held my tongue and let Petal do the talking. When Petal brought Dinny into the kitchen I thought we were going to need that knife to cut through the air.
‘I’m goin’ back ta me prunin’,’ was Aunty Boo’s only response.
‘I’m gunna walk me dogs!’ Nan said, and hobbled off.
Aunty Bubby made tea and sandwiches.
‘How ’bout we go fer a walk now?’ she suggested to me and Star, forcing a smile as she handed Dinny a steaming mug of tea.
‘Nah!’ we chorused together. ‘We wanna stay here.’
When they saw the car snaking back up the road in the direction of town, the Aunties and Nan reappeared. Nan’s faded face, Aunty Bubby’s glassy eyes and Aunty Boo’s set lips should have told me something . . . but I’d never seen Petal so happy.
‘We all goin’ to the rodeo tomorrow!’ Star yelled.
‘What! Goin’ where?’ the three women asked in unison.
‘Yeah, that’s right!’ Petal swung around from the kitchen sink. ‘Dinny’s pickin’ us up in the mornin’. It’ll be fun, an’ donchya go interferin’.’
She looked daggers at Aunty Boo before she plonked the plates and cups in the sink with a defiant thump and flounced off in her Cuban heels, tassels bobbing and buckles jangling, leaving the washing-up for someone else.
Nan and the Aunties were speechless. Aunty Boo clenched her fist and thumped it on the kitchen table. ‘That bloody Petal is a damned lippy woman! If she had as much sense as she got lip she’d be doin’ all right. As it is, I dunno what’s gunna become o’ her.’
Next morning Petal, Star and I, all dressed up as cowgirls, stood by the front gate waiting for Dinny. We were surprised to see the Aunties walking down the garden path in their town clothes. Petal pouted and put her hands on her hips. But the Aunties were one step ahead.
‘Petal, love,’ Aunty Bubby said gingerly, ‘Boo an’ I think it’d be a big help ta ya if we came along.’
Petal’s pout diminished.
‘That’s right, love,’ Aunty Boo was quick with the backup. ‘If Bub an’ me follow ya ta town in our car we can bring the kids home in a coupla hours an’ ya can stay out later then. Ya won’t hafta worry ’bout gettin’ ’em home for tea an’ a bath.’
I’d overheard Aunty Boo the night before saying that if she couldn’t talk any sense into Petal one way, then she’d have to try another.
Petal fell for it. The red and white fish-finned car was approaching and she was eager to get going. ‘Well, all right! But donchya nag me an’ follow me round like I’m a baby, ya hear?’
‘Yes, dear, we’ll take our books an’ read in the shade,’ Aunty Bubby promised.
Petal bundled Star and me into the big Holden with the ten-gallon-hat driver. Out the back window I saw the Aunties make a quick dash for the old Ford International, to stay hot on our heels.
I was six and it was my first trip to the showground. I wasn’t used to strangers and the sight of so many cars and people made me go weak at the knees. The smell of dust, booze, sweat and fear hit me in the face; my head felt light. But Star loved it and shrieked with joy. Petal bounced confidently out of the car like she was used to the whole business. As Dinny swung the gleeful Star onto his shoulders and headed in the direction of the arena, I was looking round for the Aunties. Petal grabbed my hand. ‘Don’t dawdle,’ she said curtly. ‘This is no place to daydream.’
I caught a glimpse of Aunty Boo and Aunty Bubby over my shoulder. They looked funny in their prim and proper clothing amid all the cowboys and confusion.
I pulled on Petal’s hand. ‘Aunty Boo an’ Aunty Bubby are comin’. Donchya wanna wait?’
‘They’ll catch up,’ Petal said as she forged ahead without looking back.
We followed Dinny to the pens on the other side of the arena where the stench made my nose wrinkle. Lots of men in checked shirts tipped their big hats and smiled at Petal. Some of them seemed to know her.
‘Hey, Petal!’ called a very tall man with a white hat. ‘That man o’ yours in fine form? I got money on him today.’ He sauntered closer to where we stood.
‘Hey, Tex,’ Petal beamed. ‘These are our kids.’
The beanpole man squatted down to our level. ‘Hey, little ladies, come ta watch ya dad clean up?’
I wasn’t sure what that meant so I just smiled politely.
When Aunty Boo and Aunty Bubby finally caught up, Petal didn’t want to know them. ‘Why donchya go an’ sit on the seats in the shade, while the kids an’ me watch Dinny?’ she said, and grabbed our hands to move closer to the arena.
The man called Tex followed us as Petal pushed her way to the fence that surrounded the dusty churned-up arena. People were closing in on the ring. Petal picked up Star and without a word the man called Tex hoisted me onto his shoulders and I was way above the crowd. A deafening cheer went up as the shoots at the other side of the arena opened. A writhing jumping horse burst forth. Petal gasped loudly, then I realised that the man straddling it was Dinny.
‘Look,’ said the awestruck Petal, ‘ain’t he jus’ so good?’
Dinny held one hand high above his head as if he was reaching for something. His big hat fell as he was jolted from side to side as well as forward as the horse snorted and threw its head up and down.
‘That one’s a twister,’ Tex yelled above the noise to Petal, ‘but he’s nearly there.’
I was confused because he didn’t seem to be going anywhere except round in circles. After only a few laps some men rode in on other horses that weren’t bucking and jumping and pulled Dinny off the crazy horse. The crowd roared and threw their hats in the air. I didn’t understand but everyone else seemed to know exactly what was going on. In quick succession different riders appeared on writhing horses, but they were all bucked off. I was glad when Dinny came back round to where we were standing.
Petal plonked Star on the ground and ran to him with open arms. ‘Ya did it! Ya did it!’ she kept repeating ecstatically.
Tex put me on the ground and went to shake Dinny’s hand. A crowd gathered around Dinny and Petal. My sister and I were forgotten. I clung to Star’s hand and peered through the crowd for my Aunties. I couldn’t see them anywhere and began to panic. I was turning in circles trying to see them when Petal came up behind me and grabbed my shoulder.
Purple Threads Page 5
