Trust Me

by Lesley Pearse

  Stricken with a sudden fear, Dulcie moved up to Sister Margaret’s side. Next to Sister Grace she was the nicest of the nuns, and she didn’t usually refuse to answer questions.

  ‘Sister,’ Dulcie asked hesitantly. ‘Does our daddy know we are going?’

  ‘Why, of course he does.’ Sister pinched her cheek playfully. ‘He’d have been asked for his permission.’

  ‘He didn’t mind, then?’ Dulcie wasn’t sure she liked the idea that he’d said they could go just like that.

  Sister looked down at her. She had a red face, May had once said it looked like a tomato, and ever since ‘Tomato Face’ had been the nickname the girls called her in private. ‘I expect he thinks you’ll have a much better life out there,’ she said, her blue eyes smiling. ‘You will too, Dulcie. I wish I could go with you. Did you know they only chose the nicest, cleverest girls?’

  Any lingering doubts or anxieties were soon swept away by the new clothes. Three cotton dresses, two nightdresses, a cardigan, shoes, socks, underwear and a swimsuit each. As they walked home again, each carrying their own bag of clothing, Sister Margaret told them that they each had a shiny new suitcase too, because they’d been delivered to the convent during the previous week.

  Three weeks later Dulcie stood at the bows of the SS Maloja, her face turned up to the afternoon sun. She liked the warm wind pulling at her hair, the salty taste it left on her lips, but most of all she loved the emptiness of the ocean and the way that up in the bows she could hear nothing of the perpetual noise of the ship and its passengers, only the gentle sound of the water parting to let the ship glide through.

  For the first few days the sea had frightened her, she had been nervous of going anywhere near the rails for fear a huge wave would sweep her away down into its depths. The vastness of it made her feel so very small and insignificant, the motion had made her queasy. But gradually she’d got used to it and now she loved it, for somehow that very vastness seemed to make the past seem less important.

  The time had gone so fast after they knew they were leaving the convent for good – it seemed like a blink of an eye and they were on the ship. The tiny cabin she shared with her sister and four other girls was airless and cramped, yet she liked it. It was an adventure finding her way along narrow passageways and up steep, polished wood companionways, never being entirely certain that she was going the right way. She adored all the jolly stewards who pinched her cheeks and said she had lovely eyes, they made her feel special. And never in her life had she had such huge meals, or even seen some of the things they dished up in the dining-room. She supposed this was how the rich lived all the time – snowy white tablecloths, silver cutlery, eating exotic things like prawns, curry, spaghetti and risotto. She tried almost everything, just to see what they were like, but her favourite things were chicken and fruit, and sometimes she ate so much she felt she might burst.

  It was like a wonderful dream which just went on and on. Although there were over a hundred children on the ship, from all over England and Ireland too, there were very few grown-ups with them, just four nuns and a few young men and women who were going out to live in Australia too, and they didn’t care much what the children got up to. So mostly they could do what they liked, haring around on the upper decks, playing quoits, cricket, or swimming in the small pool on the top deck. It was only when the other adult passengers complained about the noise they made that any effort was made to organize proper games or lessons.

  On the last day, after nearly six weeks at sea, Dulcie had grown tired of playing hide-and-seek, chase and all those games which involved so much running around and shouting. She wanted to be quiet, to curl up with a book, or just watch the sea and the birds in solitude. That seemed funny to her, just as it had felt funny when she finally came to say goodbye to everyone at the Sacred Heart. She’d hated it there, yet when she went into the orchard for one last look around, she had begun to cry because it all looked so dear and beautiful. She had remembered how it looked back in the spring when the blossom was out. On the way to school they used to grab a handful and toss the petals over each other pretending it was confetti. Then there had been all those wonderful days there last summer, when at last the Sisters let them go into the orchard to play, when they had lain on the warm grass, eating the fallen fruit, and telling each other stories about what they were going to do when they were grown up.

  ‘I won’t ever know what happens to them,’ she said aloud.

  ‘What happens to who?’

  Dulcie turned sharply in surprise at hearing a boy’s voice behind her. She would have been very embarrassed at being caught out talking to herself by any of the other boys, but it was only Duncan, one of the boys from Manchester, and she liked him. Like her he was small and blond, in fact one of the stewards had thought he was her brother. He was eleven, with the skinniest legs she’d ever seen, and a crop of freckles which seemed to grow every day.

  She explained what she’d been thinking about.

  ‘I don’t much care about the other boys I knew,’ Duncan said with a shrug. ‘But sometimes I wonder what will happen if my mum comes back for me and I’m not there.’

  The first day on ship, one of the young women who were supposed to keep an eye on them had encouraged each of them to tell the other children a bit about themselves. Duncan had been one of the first to speak, he said he didn’t have a dad and his mum had put him in the home saying she’d be back for him, but she’d never come.

  ‘They’d tell her where you’d gone and she’d come after you,’ Dulcie said. ‘But maybe we’ll have such a great life in Australia that we won’t care any more about the people who have made us sad.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Duncan said forcefully. ‘Grown-ups are so two-faced. They go on about being kind and generous, but they aren’t, not to kids like us. We’re told not to be bullies, yet they bully us. We’re told we mustn’t tell lies, but the nuns do it all the time. I’ve never met one grown-up who gave a toss about me, my feelings or even if I was hungry or cold. I don’t suppose it’s going to be much better in Australia either.’

  ‘Of course it will,’ Dulcie said quickly. ‘They picked us all to go there because we were nice kids.’

  ‘Did they?’ He gave her a sharp look. ‘I reckon they just wanted to get rid of us, like we were a load of rubbish that has to be dumped somewhere. No one wants rubbish on their own doorstep, so they send us to the other side of the world.’

  ‘That’s silly, Duncan.’ She laughed. ‘They were kind people who arranged all this, they want us to have a better life than we had in England.’

  ‘I wish I could believe it the way you do. I reckon we’re just like the convicts they used to send out there,’ he said, and a lone tear trickled down his cheek.

  The next day, as Dulcie and May waited in a queue in a tin shed at Fremantle Docks and saw the children up ahead were being fingerprinted, Duncan’s words on the deck came back to Dulcie.

  Everything had looked so wonderful just a couple of hours earlier. As the ship came in to dock, a band was playing, people were waving and cheering. Fremantle didn’t look very special, just a lot of sheds and miles of concrete wharf, but the sea sparkled in the sunshine, and all those bright faces, the music and the cheering were very welcoming. The stewards and even the other passengers hugged and kissed all the children, wishing them all the best for the future. Dulcie felt so excited she could hardly manage to walk down the gangway.

  But they’d only just set foot in Australia when the boys were separated from the girls and marched off in different directions. She felt bad enough that she wasn’t even give a chance to say goodbye properly to her friends like Duncan, but far worse was to see brothers and sisters who had been together in orphanages back in England torn away from one another. No explanation was made, or any assurances given that they’d see one another again soon. All of them were crying, some even screaming, and a nun went amongst the girls and shook and slapped some of them to shut them up.
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  Dulcie held May’s hand tightly as they waited in the queue. May had annoyed her a great deal on the journey, she’d been so full of herself, but just the thought of being separated from her permanently terrified her. It was so hot too, and there was no sign now of the nice younger men and women who’d taken care of them on the ship, just older, severe-looking people who spoke really strangely, to keep them in line.

  ‘I’m so hot,’ May bleated. ‘I want a drink.’

  ‘I expect they’ll give us one in a minute,’ Dulcie replied absentmindedly, busy connecting fingerprinting with convicts.

  ‘If they don’t get me a drink now I shall scream,’ May retorted.

  Dulcie was instantly alarmed. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she said. ‘You know what happened on the first night at the Sacred Heart, and that was all because you made a big fuss.’

  When May whimpered with fright, Dulcie felt bad at reminding her of that night, for clearly whatever had happened to her nearly two years ago still had the power to frighten her. ‘I’ll ask someone nicely when I get a chance,’ she said quickly and cuddled May. ‘Now, just be patient.’

  Through the open side of the shed Dulcie could see a hive of activity, men carting luggage on trolleys, huge wooden containers being unloaded from the ship’s hold on to the wharf by cranes. There were so many families, not just the ones that had been on the Maloja but from other huge ships too. They stood in tight little bunches by their luggage, many of the women held small children and babies in their arms, with bigger children around them, and mostly they looked as anxious as she felt. She wondered where they were all going. Did they have places to stay? Or were they in much the same predicament as her and May, just waiting to be told where to go?

  The queue shuffled forward very slowly, but at last it was their turn to approach the table at which sat two men and a woman.

  ‘Names!’ one of the men barked at them. Dulcie told him and he sifted through a pile of forms until he found theirs. The second man reached out to grab Dulcie’s hand, pushed her index finger on to the ink pad, then squeezing it tightly rolled it carefully on to the bottom of the form, leaving a clear imprint. Then it was May’s turn.

  ‘May we have a drink of water, please?’ Dulcie asked, her voice shaking with nervousness.

  ‘You’ll all get one before long,’ the woman said, giving Dulcie a steely-eyed look as she handed her the form. ‘Take that over there,’ she added, pointing in the direction of another table at which two women sat.

  Dulcie picked up her case and, telling May to come with her, did as she was told. Again they had to give their names, ages and which home they’d come from in England. Dulcie felt even more nervous as the two women had a whispered consultation as they looked at a large ledger. It seemed to Dulcie they were trying to decide where to send them, for there were several columns, some having just a few names, others far more. She thought she heard one of the women say ‘only room for one there’ and her heart nearly stopped with fright that they might separate them.

  ‘St Vincent’s in Perth,’ the older of the two said finally, and to Dulcie’s relief she put both their names in the same column. She wrote St Vincent’s on their forms, and handed them back to Dulcie. ‘You can go out to the refreshment stand now,’ she said. ‘That’s out through the door at the side.’ She pointed it out. ‘Don’t lose the forms, you’ll need to hand them in to the Sister in charge.’

  It was cooler outside the shed. A large table was laid out in the shade of the building with sandwiches, cakes and glasses of orange squash. Several smiling nuns were greeting each of the girls in turn, passing out refreshments. As Dulcie and May were directed to put their suitcases down and sit on a blanket, and saw the four girls from the Sacred Heart were there already, along with several others from the ship, Dulcie’s spirits lifted a little.

  ‘Where are you two going?’ Carol called out to her.

  ‘St Vincent’s,’ Dulcie replied. ‘What about you?’

  Carol said she, Janet, Alice and Pauline were going to a place called St Joseph’s, and they wished Dulcie and May were going there too. As more girls came to sit down on the blanket everyone chattered about where they were going, and although there were several girls still very upset at being separated from their brothers, the cold drinks, and finding themselves amongst friends, helped to cheer them all up.

  A little later, all the girls were lined up for a photograph. The smallest ones, including May, were placed in front, and each one of them was given a teddy bear. The photographer told them jokes to make them laugh, and as the nuns watching were all smiling, the last of the children’s anxieties were dispelled, and the happy moment was caught on film.

  More cakes and squash were handed round before the girls were divided up into the groups for each home they were going to. As Carol, Janet, Pauline and Alice were led away with their quite large party to a bus, everyone cheered loudly.

  It was the St Vincent’s group that went next, just six in all – Dulcie, May, Susan, Mary and two seven-year-olds, Joan and Patty. As the nun led them round the side of the shed to where a car was waiting for them, another nun approached them and took the teddy bears from the three youngest girls’ arms.

  May let out a howl of rage and tried to snatch hers back.

  ‘That’s enough of that,’ the nun said, slapping her hand. ‘They were only lent to you, they will be needed again.’

  Dulcie dropped her case and went to May, for once in complete agreement with her sister’s anger. She looked up at the stern-faced nun and narrowed her eyes. ‘That was a mean thing to do,’ she hissed at her. ‘They all thought they were a present.’

  The incident cast a pall over the car ride. The nun who would be driving them introduced herself as Sister Ruth. Dulcie and Mary sat in the front with her, the other four smaller girls in the back, the three younger ones sniffling, two suitcases which there hadn’t been room for in the boot stuffed down by their feet.

  Sister Ruth seemed quite nice, she asked their names and told them it was just a short drive, but all the girls were so upset by the incident with the teddy bears that they didn’t even whisper to one another.

  The Sister kept pointing things out to them, the wide Swan River, which she said was famous for its black swans, King’s Park which she said had beautiful exotic birds and huge old trees, but though Dulcie felt she ought to be looking out eagerly at the scenery, noting what was different to England, all she could think of was how hot it was and how dusty and strange the trees were. Even the pretty little bungalow-style houses with fancy lace-like iron work along the verandas and gardens crammed with strange-looking plants did nothing to cheer her, and all at once she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

  It had been so wonderful on the ship that she had almost forgotten how horrible it could be at the Sacred Heart. Yet now as she looked down at her ink-stained finger and remembered how brothers and sisters had been cruelly separated and the teddy bears snatched back, she felt a sense of foreboding that maybe it was going to be even worse here.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘You haven’t cleaned this, you lazy little beggar,’ Sister Anne said accusingly. She turned from examining a shelf which was at her own eye level, but way above Dulcie’s head, and in the same movement swiped out at the child with the thin leather strap she kept attached to her belt. It licked across Dulcie’s shoulder, the tip catching the back of her neck which was already red raw with sunburn. ‘Get those pots down and scrub it.’

  ‘Yes, Sister,’ Dulcie said, not even daring to put her hand on her neck to soothe the stinging. She certainly didn’t dare say she’d already scrubbed the shelf – in three months at St Vincent’s she had learnt never to answer back.

  Dulcie’s appearance had changed dramatically since she got off the ship three months earlier. Plump rosy cheeks were now hollow, her complexion rough from constant burning and blistering in the sun. Her hair was cut exactly the same as every other girl’s here, straight across on a level with her ear lobes
, parted on the right and held back from her forehead with a kirby grip. The green and white striped uniform dress hung limply for she’d grown painfully thin, and her feet were bare, the soles callused from the rough ground. Yet it was her eyes which exposed how she felt inside. Fearful, demoralized, and so very weary.

  ‘I shall be back,’ Sister Anne said ominously and waddled out of the laundry room to check someone else’s work.

  Dulcie poked out her tongue at the nun’s retreating back, then picked up a stool and carried it back to beneath the shelf. The laundry room was little more than a shed at the back of the convent, and she had been sent in here after dinner to clean it. This involved scrubbing not only the stone floor but the two large sinks, draining boards and the rollers on the huge wringer, polishing up the copper and every other surface too. As the laundry was used every morning and water and soap suds made a great deal of mess, it was a formidable task even for an adult. Dulcie had been cleaning for three hours, alone and without a break, and it was now spotless. The shelf she had been accused of not cleaning properly was one where heavy old cooking pots were kept for boiling up small amounts of washing, like handkerchiefs or soiled bandages. She knew that it was perfectly clean, she’d even gone right into the corners with a small brush, but she’d made the mistake of allowing it to dry before Sister Anne inspected.

  Once again she clambered up on the stool, took the first pan and heaved it down, then the next. The stool wobbled precariously on the uneven floor, it was hard work getting up and down each time, sweat poured down her face, her damp dress and apron clung to her body, but finally she had all twelve pots down. Again she filled the bucket with water, picked up the bar of hard soap, and climbed back up to scrub.