by Gary Seeary
Sneaky buggers!
The next second, a couple of apples flew over the fence into a hessian bag held wide open by the man, who was moving it to suit the trajectory of his prize. Zucchinis, tomatoes and a cabbage, or was that a lettuce, arcing over the fence. I suppose if you’re starving hungry, you have to get creative.
The young boy was back over the fence in a flash, using the rails on the yard-side to get a leg up and a quick getaway. In one minute they had procured enough food for a few days’ meals and then they were gone. I didn’t even see which way they went at the far end of the lane.
Bravo, tiny circus troupe!
I was not expecting to see such an ingenious performance on a quiet workday afternoon. I kept looking down the lane just in case someone leapt over the fence in pursuit of them. After a minute, a woman wearing a red scarf poked her head cautiously over the fence. She looked left and then right, before spitting over the fence, while grumbling something in a foreign tongue. She lowered herself slowly back into the yard, probably needing to take an inventory of what was left of her veggie patch.
Now, I knew why the good people of Carlton were giving every transient the ‘evil eye’.
After a hundred yards, I caught the very welcome sight of the cream walls of Aunty May’s boarding house. As soon as I reached the backyard I squatted down to drink big gulps of cool water straight from the garden tap. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of someone standing to my left with a strong scent of lavender on them.
Aunty May!
“Sebastian?” asked Aunty May, in a haughty voice. “Are we having the honour of your company tonight, or will you be tomcatting again this evening?” She nicely extracted every ounce of sarcasm from each word.
She leant down in her loose floral summer dress to look closely at me. I jumped back with a start.
“Well, if you’re a tomcat, you’re not a very good one,” Aunty May quipped. “Look at yourself. Your father fancied himself as a pugilist, but he wasn’t any good either. Didn’t stop him though … too stubborn. You’re a lot like your father in many respects, Sebastian.”
Give me strength!
I made a move towards the stairs that led up to my digs, embarrassed now by my stench. I needed to spend the whole evening in the washroom scrubbing myself until it hurts, not wanting to think about the day-and-a-half of the working week I still had left.
“Well, go on then, get going, but I want you back downstairs quick smart,” Aunty May ordered “I have something to tell you that I wanted to tell you last night.”
I hesitated for a second, trying to think what the hurry up could be about.
“Well! … Haven’t you kept me waiting long enough?”
*
On returning to the kitchen, Aunty May offered me a milk arrowroot biscuit from her fancy embossed tin, before sitting down next to me at our long, lace-covered communal table.
“Sebastian, you know how difficult things have been in the hostellerie industry,” Aunty May stated, staring at me strangely with her head leant to one side.
Hostellerie! Why does she have to use fancy words?
I woofed down the biscuit and then started to chew on my nails.
“Don’t do that Sebastian, it’s so common,” Aunty May huffed as she straightened in her chair.
“Unfortunately, my tenants think that beer, tobacco and betting are the be all and end all. Well, there’s a rude awakening coming for them. We are just keeping our heads above water at the moment, Sebastian. Lord knows how much worse things would be if Barry wasn’t here to help us. He’s such a wonderful man you know, a godsend really. I can’t tell you how much he does around here.”
Why is she telling me this? And how could she ever think that slippery snake, my foreman, could in any way resemble a wonderful godsend? I wonder what scam he’s working on her.
“Aunty, you said you had some news…” I inquired trying to get her focus off Barry.
“Oh, yes I do. I received a letter from your parents a couple of days ago and I think you will like some of it. I was going to tell you all about it over a fine dinner last night, but as it happens, Barry enjoyed your lambs fry,” Aunty May stopped suddenly to grab my arm and blurted out.
“Leticia’s coming to Melbourne. She’s arriving by train on Tuesday.”
“Lettie coming to Melbourne?” I paused, stunned for a second.
“And there’s a possibility it may be permanent,” Aunty May added cautiously.
“Wow! What great news,” I continued, trying to hold down my excitement.
I stood up and walked around the kitchen, suddenly wide awake after beginning to flag.
“Gosh, I can’t tell you how good it will be to have Lettie around,” I added, almost to myself.
Then I sat down as quickly as I got up, realising there might be more to this news than I first thought.
“I hope nothing has happened back home to make Lettie have to come down so suddenly.”
“According to your parents,” Aunt May said reading from the letter, “they want Leticia to ‘broaden her horizons’ by trying to find a permanent position in the city. They don’t see many prospects for her in the country.”
Aunty May put the letter down and continued with her arms crossed …
“Well, in my opinion, if she took some of my advice regarding her dress she might have a better chance of finding suitable employment, or even a well-connected suitor.”
“Lettie’s only eighteen, Aunty. She has plenty of time to find her place in the world.”
“Well, I don’t have plenty of time to wait for her to grow up,” Aunty May jumped in. “Because, I can’t afford to employ her here …. I know it’s difficult for everyone at the moment, but just because your father’s truck catches on fire, doesn’t mean I can afford …”
“My dad’s truck caught on fire?” I shot back, surprised by her off-handedness. “When?”
“He didn’t say when, Sebastian, I think he’s embarrassed by the whole affair. He’s not a farmer’s backside you know, or a good business man for that matter. Sometimes, I think it would be better if your older brother Vernon took over. It seems to come naturally to him. I would love it if that beautiful boy came down to visit more often. I could tell him how the Boer farmers did things differently during my visit to the Cape Colony. They know how to make the most out of neglected country,” Aunty May’s eyes starting to wander around the room.
Here we go …
I wanted to find out what happened with Dad’s truck, knowing without the cash it brings in, it could cause a lot of hardship to the family. But, I thought in this case, it might be better to wait until Tuesday, so I could get the news first-hand from Lettie.
“Was there any mention of Robbie in the letter, Aunty?” I asked, hoping if there was, it was good. The last I heard, Robbie was refusing to help out around the farm and only wanted to read in his room, which was upsetting the rest of the family no end.
“Robert?” Aunty May paused for a second as if she wasn’t sure who I was talking about.
“No, no mention of Robert. But, that boy does need to get his head out of the clouds. He can’t run away from reality forever. A life in the military would turn him around; turn him into a man. It would have been good for your father too, but he decided to stay at home with the women during the Great War. Your Uncle Will had to pay the ultimate price in France. He was such a huge loss to the family you know. Although, I never agreed with the white feathers your father received, I do understand that not everyone has the fight in them.”
I could bloody throttle her. If she ever pulled her head out of her arse, she would remember that staying behind on the farm was the hardest decision my dad ever had to make. He was ordered to stay at home for the duration because my grandfather was a good forty years older than him and struggling to cope. A letter came directly from the Minister of Defence, stating that the provision of goods, like wool and oats, was like having a hundred men in the field.
&
nbsp; Mum said that when they received the news of Will being killed in action, Dad was close to ending up in the asylum. She said the happy-go-lucky spirit he once had, never returned.
Aunty May knew all this.
I needed to change the subject quickly, before I said something I couldn’t take back.
“Have you heard of anyone hiring at the moment, Aunty?” I asked, trying to appear cheerful. “Lettie is such a good cook.”
“Well, I’m glad you asked because I did come across an advertisement recently calling for junior sales assistants in the beauty section of Myer. If Leticia showed a little more interest in her personal grooming, she might stand a chance of getting put on the books. But, I fear that the cafeteria is probably her best chance,” Aunty May said, without batting an eyelid.
“I blame your mother for being too soft. She needed to be firmer with Leticia and Robert’s upbringing, instead of raising money for drifters and no-hopers. I will make it my duty to turn Leticia into a lady, when she gets down here.”
That was it! She was going to cop it now.
“Aunty May. My mum is the most …” I was forced to stop mid-sentence, by the appearance of the foreman just returning from work at the screen door. A smile appeared on his face at seeing Aunty May, before quickly disappearing when he noticed I was in the kitchen as well.
Please tell me there’s nothing going on between them.
I turned my head to look at the dry food containers.
“Hello, Barry. Did you have a nice day?” asked Aunty May in a sickly sweet tone.
“Yes, thanks May. We had a bit of fun today, but there we will be no room for shenanigans, tomorrow.”
“Barry, you are such a gentleman for letting Sebastian finish early today. It gave us the opportunity to have a good natter and I think you will find an improved performance from him in the morning.”
“I appreciate that May, but everyone at Cooks looks out for Sebastian, we wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him there. You don’t have to worry about him at all,” lied the foreman giving me a wink and Aunty May a wave as he headed off to his room.
I’d heard enough bull for the rest of my days, so I got up and headed for the screen door, turning to look at Aunty May as I opened it.
“I will find a job for Leticia, Aunty, so you don’t have to worry about her becoming a liability. See ya for tea.”
I was out the screen door before Aunty May could close her mouth to open it again, letting the slam of the door become the final word on the matter.
Lettie’s as smart as a whip and the hardest worker, I assured myself, before I made my way up the back steps and across to my room. Surely, between the two of us, we could find her some kind of work.
3
* * *
Aid for Spain
I could barely wait for the foreman to ring the knock-off bell at midday, so I could slam my Dad’s old Gladstone bag shut and get the hell out of this rotten place.
The factory had been like an oven all week and even the old-timers were dragging their sorry faces around like they’d never been through a hot spell before.
“Lucky it’s Saturday,” the leading hand’s off-sider, Lenny, yelled out several times in the morning, driving everyone up the wall with his endless chatter.
I don’t know what happened to him, no-one does, but just when you think he hasn’t got a clue, he comes up with some real cracking ideas. He’s probably the best mate I have here.
At smoko I made the mistake of telling Lenny that instead of going back to my digs after work, which would be like a furnace until the cool change came in later in the evening, I was going to look for a place somewhere outside the city that might be interesting to take my sister to, after she arrives on Tuesday.
“Leave it up to me, young fella,” Lenny bragged while wiping his forehead with a grotty oil-covered handkerchief. “Before the foreman rings the bell. I’ll think of somewhere really grand for you to take your sister.”
Gees! Anything could happen here. Lenny’s mind doesn’t work like other people, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I wouldn’t even hazard a guess where he’d want to send us.
The heat and never wanting to see the foreman again, weren’t the only reasons I didn’t want to head back to my tiny room after work. I had been thinking about what Aunty May had told me was in the letter from my folks. They wanted Lettie to ‘broaden her horizons’ down here, which was great but after six months in the city my horizons were still as flat as the Wimmera plains.
I needed a future that didn’t involve sheepskins.
Six months ago, I was given the best lesson in how to prepare for the future. Make your own plans before someone else does it for you. My new life arrived one afternoon while I was working at home on the farm, in the form of a telegram from Aunty May.
‘SEND SEB NOW STOP WORK STOP.’
That’s all it took for me to be given an encouraging pat on the back from my family and a shove onto the next train heading towards the big smoke, without a clue as to what I’d be doing, who I’d be doing it for, or whether I’d ever make a zack out of it or not.
Aunty May had been talking to my foreman after work one evening, when he mentioned that he had to sack an old timer called Blacky. Apparently, he’d been knocking off some of the blokes’ money from their kits in the change room while pretending to go to the toilet. The foreman and the leading hand forced him to own up by threatening to send him for a spin in the Leidgen Drum if he didn’t.
I would have owned up too!
Aunty May talked her new boarder and erstwhile friend Barry into leaving the position open for a few days until I made it down. She said I would work the first two days for free, as a trial. My foreman likes cheap labour.
I was brought back from my thoughts by Lenny, true to his word, turning up a minute before the knock-off bell.
“I know just the place for you, young Seb,” yapped Lenny like an excited pup.
“Emerald Hill in South Melbourne is where you should take your sister. She’ll love it. What they have there is what women want. Do you know what that is, Master Seb?”
“No, I don’t know, Len,” I replied, wondering how he could possibly know so much about women.
“Shopping, Seb. Not the snooty shopping like you see in Collins Street, where everything costs a year’s wages. No, they want shops where they can buy the raw materials to make the fancy stuff for themselves. Drapers, haberdashers and grocers, that’s the type of shopping women want. They like beautiful houses and gardens, too,” Lenny exclaimed.
“I have also heard of gatherings that happen there from time to time, where assorted cranks get up on an old crate, sprouting their plans to save the world. I’m told it’s the funniest thing you’ll ever see in your life. And, you know what? It won’t cost you a penny. What do you reckon of that, young Seb?”
“I like it, Lenny,” I replied genuinely, “I really do.” I had heard the South Melbourne area was a nice place to go to. Though, I’m not sure I would mention the fact that Lenny and I had similar ideas.
“Righto, Lenny. I’m off then,” I shouted when the foreman finally rang the knock-off bell.
I knew Lenny was planning on being my guide for the day, and I should ask him, but I couldn’t do it.
“Thanks for givin’ me the good oil, Lenny. See ya Monday mornin’.”
I felt bad when I turned around to see Lenny still waving at me as he closed the factory gate, but some people you need to have a break from.
*
I headed south along King Street, a hot northerly wind at my back, past Flagstaff Gardens which was packed with every man and his dog searching for relief from the oppressive heat. Families had laid out picnic rugs under shady trees, despite the best efforts of their kids and a gusting wind to up-end them. Groups of office workers shared patches of shade. Ties were loosened on their white Pelaco shirts, as they celebrated the end of the working week by knocking down well-earned but probably warm bottles of bee
r.
People became scarcer the further I went down King Street on my way towards Emerald Hill with the notable exception of every pub along the route, where large groups of men were crowded shoulder to shoulder at the bar, licensees doing a ripper trade on such a stinker of a day.
Before I moved down to the city my folks warned me to give the pubs a big miss. In a couple of months I would turn twenty-one, old enough to drink at a bar. I didn’t need too much convincing to refrain from developing the habit, after seeing the results of a six o’clock swill. It was a real eye-opener to watch blokes fighting like animals to get to the bar as the ‘last-drinks’ bell rang, stepping over drunks passed out on the floor in a filthy pool of beer, and other vile liquids, so they could order another five or six beers.
I enjoy a beer as much as the next, when I can get my hands on one, but the sight of paralytic men pouring out of pubs at six o’clock had put me off ever wanting to join them.
Back on the farm when we were young tackers, Dad sometimes used to let us have a sip out of his glass of beer in the evening. It didn’t happen very often, but when he let us, we thought he was the greatest dad ever. A couple of years later, Lettie and I snuck a bottle of his beer from the safe, left it to cool in the river overnight, and then went back the next day to knock it down. Thinking back now, he must have known it was us.
I still think it’s funny that Lettie is the only girl I know who likes the taste of beer.
One of the favourite things that Lettie liked to do when we came down to the city as kids was to go up front with Aunty May on the dummy of the cable tram. To fly past the huge crowds and tall buildings in the city, and then to hang on for dear life around the bends was a dream for us country kids.
On one trip, when the grip-man released the cable too early, the tram was left stranded half-way around the bend at Parliament House. All the passengers had to get out and push the tram into Bourke Street, but few of them thought it was as funny as Lettie and I did.
