Trust Me

by Lesley Pearse

  It was bad enough when he was told that the convent wouldn’t allow his children to write to him in prison, but he accepted it, thinking perhaps the Sisters were right and it would be a bad influence.

  ‘The bastards,’ he muttered again, white-hot anger rising inside him. ‘Fucking evil bastards,’ he ranted to himself, hitting the wall of the cell with his fist in the absence of any face to punch. ‘How dare they pack my kids off to the other side of the world and never fucking tell me about it?’

  Later that day Reg demanded an interview with the Governor. At five he presented himself at the office, and while he was waiting to be called in, he told himself he must control his temper or he’d get nowhere.

  The Governor’s name was Friday, a name that was sniggered about all around the prison. Yet ‘Man Friday’ as he was universally known was a decent sort. He did appear to care about the welfare of the men in his prison, he had been known to bend rules occasionally for deserving cases, he did actually listen properly to complaints, which according to the men who had been in many prisons was very unusual.

  At the command to come in, Reg took a deep breath, gave his shoes a quick rub on the back of his trouser legs, and walked in.

  ‘Taylor, three five four oh, sir,’ he said, standing smartly to attention in front of Friday’s desk.

  Friday had the look of an accountant or a bank manager, rather than of a man who had worked his way up through the prison ranks, with his healthy, round shiny face, neatly trimmed moustache and hòrn-rimmed glasses.

  ‘Well, Taylor, what can I do for you?’ he asked. ‘If it’s a request for more building work I’m sorry, but there is nothing at present.’

  ‘It wasn’t that, sir,’ Reg said. ‘It’s about my girls. You see, I’ve just found out they were sent to Australia.’

  He took Susan’s letter from his pocket and gave it to the man to read. ‘She used to be my Dulcie’s teacher,’ he explained, then went on to add how much she’d done for both himself and the girls.

  ‘Can they really send my girls away without my permission?’ he asked, trying to control the anger rising inside him.

  Friday read the letter through a second time, then sat back in his chair and folded his arms. ‘Would you have given them permission to go if you had been asked?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Reg said. ‘I’d have wanted to know a great deal about where they were planning to take them before I made up my mind.’

  ‘You would probably have wanted to know if you’d be eligible to join them there at the end of your sentence, I expect?’ Friday said.

  ‘Well, yes,’ Reg said. ‘All my plans for the future are with them in mind.’

  ‘Maybe these people knew that, and also knew you would never be eligible to emigrate yourself,’ Friday said. ‘They might see that as a selfish reason, and not in the children’s best interests. It is a land of great opportunity after all. Maybe they didn’t want the children to be denied it?’

  Reg began to feel irritated that Friday was twisting it to make these people sound right. ‘I don’t see it that way, sir,’ he replied. ‘I see a bunch of people stealing my children away from me. Surely getting twelve years and missing them growing up is enough of a punishment without whisking them away so far I’ll never get to see them again when I get out.’

  ‘Taylor, this is all me, me, me,’ Friday exclaimed, then sighed deeply. ‘You must forget your own feelings and think how good it is for them. Orphanages all over England are full to bursting point, there are not enough foster-parents to go round. By the time you are free they will be young women. Look at it logically for a moment – out there they will have a good education, they will have chances they’d never get in England. I can understand that you are upset because you weren’t consulted, but surely you want what’s best for them?’

  ‘But I don’t know that it is, do I?’ Reg burst out. ‘I wasn’t asked or even told that they’d gone. No letters have come from them to me, or to their old teacher. What proof have I got that they are happy?’

  ‘I expect they have been discouraged from writing to you and this Mrs Bankcroft,’ Friday said, touching the letter on his desk. ‘To save them the pangs of homesickness. I am quite certain that even as we speak they are enjoying a far better life than they ever knew before, and without painful reminders from home they can grow up to be well-adjusted young ladies.’

  Reg knew he was on a loser. It was quite clear Man Friday had no idea what it felt like to be banged up in a cell night after night, year after year, without any news of those he loved outside.

  ‘Can I ask then that you just try to find out exactly where they are, and how they are?’ Reg asked, trying very hard not to let any aggressiveness come into his voice. ‘Surely in God’s name as their father I’m entitled to that information?’

  ‘How old are the girls now?’ Friday asked.

  ‘Dulcie’s eleven, May’s coming up for eight.’

  The Governor looked thoughtful. ‘Well, Taylor, I’ll make some inquiries. But stop worrying about your children, I’m sure they are in good hands.’

  Reg had a strong urge to thump the man for talking down to him, but knowing that would only get him a spell in solitary confinement and that would kiss goodbye to all chance of getting any help, he suppressed it, thanked the man, and allowed himself to be dismissed.

  Back in his cell after supper, Reg planned his letter back to Susan. He knew he would have to word it carefully, without one word of criticism of the Welfare workers or the prison, as it would be censored. Yet at the same time he had to be able to show her subtly how distressed he was, for he thought she was the only person who was likely to help him.

  Yet as he read her letter again, including the part he had ignored first thing this morning, when she spoke of her husband, baby and new home, he sensed that she was trying to tell him she wanted no further involvement with him personally.

  He wrote two letters and tore them up, unable to get the tone right, and finally slumped down on to his bed, thinking bitter thoughts of Anne. He ought to have killed her, she deserved it for telling him May wasn’t his. In those early days after her death he’d tried to convince himself it was her one last lie, and she’d only said it to make him mad enough to throw her out. But once he knew it was Tosh she was having it off with, somehow he knew it was true. If she could let such a maggot screw her in the afternoons and come home again to him, she was capable of anything.

  Yet it didn’t make him love May any less, knowing he had no part in her creation. He felt no differently about her than he did about Dulcie. He wished he could wipe all that love he felt for the pair of them out of his heart, it would be so much less painful to be locked in here without it. They were so young when he was taken away from them, they’d probably almost forgotten him by now. By the time they were young women and he was free, he’d be nothing but a man with a name the same as theirs, the man responsible for taking their mother away from them.

  It was weeks before Dulcie recovered. For the first fortnight she hobbled about, unable to sit down. Yet courage, she found, was admired above all else in Australia, even by the Sisters. They were far kinder than they had been previously, giving her easy jobs which required no bending or stretching, patting her shoulder when they saw her wince with pain. Sister Ruth, one of the gentlest of the nuns, came into the dormitory each night to smooth some ointment over the weals. Even crusty Sister Anne found a cushion for Dulcie to sit on at mealtimes.

  Nothing was said, not a word to indicate that they didn’t think she deserved such a brutal punishment, but their silent kindness made Dulcie realize they approved of her nobility in taking such a beating for a crime she hadn’t committed.

  The other girls were sweet to her too, offering to help her dress, supporting her as she limped to the schoolroom. Sometimes she ached to be left alone, to be allowed just to think, for she felt so bruised inside, their compassion made her want to cry. But slowly the wounds healed, and it was good to find she now had a
niche in the school, if only as a martyr.

  It was May she had the most difficulty with. Dulcie wanted to reject her sister entirely, but she couldn’t do that in case that made the other girls realize she was the real culprit. So when May came fawning round her, Dulcie had to be nice to her, and May was smart enough to make sure she was never on her own with her, for fear of getting an earful.

  The weeks and months passed, punctuated by Holy Days when at least the food was better. It was good to stand at the window in the dormitory watching rain after so many months of drought, to sleep at night without the intense heat, to see the grass grow again, and plants suddenly shoot up almost overnight. On May’s eighth birthday it poured incessantly, and the ground around the dormitories became a lake. One of the girls saw a big snake out on the veranda one morning and screamed so loudly that all the old nuns in the convent opened their windows to see what was going on. The snake slithered away in all the confusion, and for days afterwards all the girls lived in fear that it would come into the dormitory at night.

  The kangaroos came closer as the vegetables grew in the garden, they stood by the fence like a group of old men considering if they were brave enough to jump it and get in to have a feast. More and more beautiful birds came down into the garden too, and some of the smallest girls were given the job of acting as human scarecrows to save the vegetables from being eaten.

  It seemed no time at all before it was summer again, Dulcie’s twelfth birthday, and then Christmas. She could hardly believe they’d been here for fifteen months now, and when she went to Mass and offered up her usual prayer that a letter would come from Susan or her father, she found that this time the thought of them didn’t make her cry.

  In January of 1951, Sonia was due to leave St Vincent’s to work on a sheep station. She and Dulcie had become good friends ever since Sonia’s kindness after her beating, and Dulcie felt terribly sad to be losing her. She knew now why the Sisters did their best to break up friendships, for happy children dared to get up to mischief, they plotted against the nuns. Dulcie’s keen mind, blended with Sonia’s daring and a strong desire to rise above their oppressive life, made the perfect partnership. While outwardly appearing to be subdued, willing and sweet-natured, they won trust. Once they had that they were unstoppable.

  Through careful observation the girls discovered that the Sisters over in the convent all went to the chapel at seven in the evening, and it was easy to slip through the back door into their storeroom and help themselves to bread, fruit and cheese, which they smuggled into the dormitory to share with the other girls. No suspicion fell on any of the girls’ heads as there was so much food there, and they were careful not to take too much at any one time.

  Together they found ways of making the cleaning work easier and even fun, and after supper they organized games out in the paddock which lifted everyone’s spirits. In more thoughtful moments Dulcie felt a little ashamed that she was constantly using her mind to outwit the Sisters, when perhaps she should be helping the younger girls with reading and spelling. But as Sonia pointed out on these occasions, a bit of extra food, affection and happiness went a great deal further than a reading lesson.

  But on Sonia’s last evening at St Vincent’s all Dulcie could think about was how she was going to fill the hole in her life that her friend would leave. Supper time tonight had been bittersweet, for although Sister Ruth had made a special cake and shared it out among the girls, and Sonia had received some little presents from the Sisters, making it almost like a party, there were many sad faces.

  Dulcie was waiting out on the veranda by the schoolroom when Sonia joined her. She had been sent over to the convent after supper to say goodbye to Father Murphy and receive his blessing. The Junior girls had just been sent to bed, and the rest of the girls were playing rounders in the paddock.

  ‘What was the blessing like?’ Dulcie asked, trying hard to sound jolly.

  ‘Hardly worth going for,’ Sonia grinned. ‘The old bastard made me kneel down, put his fat hand on my head and prayed that I’d keep my faith, work hard and remember all the kindness showed to me here. I thought to myself that I could put all the kindness showed to me in this bag and still have room.’

  Sonia was holding in her hands a small calico bag, embroidered with poppies, which Sister Ruth had made for her as a going-away present.

  Dulcie laughed. Such cynicism was typical of her friend. ‘Well, it is a very pretty bag,’ she said appreciatively. ‘I hope she makes me one when I leave.’

  ‘It’s the only present I want to keep,’ Sonia said, pulling a face. ‘Everything else reminds me of things I’d sooner forget.’ She upturned the bag beside Dulcie and spilled out the contents. ‘Look!’ she said, holding up a small square of towelling. ‘That’s from Sister Anne, it’s a sanitary towel, and she’s damn well done such huge blanket stitch round it that it’s going to be like wearing sackcloth.’

  Dulcie had no real idea what a sanitary towel was. The older girls often mentioned them, but she’d never liked to ask what they were for.

  ‘This one,’ Sonia went on, holding up a pin cushion, ‘is from Sister Joan, that’s going to remind me of all the times she hit me with a hairbrush.’

  ‘What on earth’s that?’ Dulcie pointed to a tiny cone made of card and decorated with ribbons.

  Sonia put it on her head. ‘A very small dunce’s cap,’ she giggled. ‘That’s from Sister Agatha, she’s been telling me I’m stupid since I was five. The old crow said it is for hanging on a dressing table and putting hairpins in. It’s going to make me feel dumb for the rest of my life.’

  Dulcie laughed, because she sensed that Sonia was actually touched to be given presents and all the scoffing was just bravado.

  ‘Are you glad to be going?’ she asked.

  ‘Don’t know really.’ Sonia’s grin vanished. ‘I’ve hated it here for so long, but now I really can go it’s scary. They might be even meaner to me at the sheep station.’

  ‘But you can always leave if they are,’ Dulcie said. ‘You could go to Perth and get a job there.’

  Sonia gave her a strange look. ‘Do you know how far away things are from one another in Australia?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s only about twenty miles to Perth from here,’ Dulcie said. She’d picked that up from Sister Ruth.

  ‘Well, the sheep station is five hundred miles from here,’ Sonia said. ‘That’s a long way to walk. Besides, you have to stay until you are eighteen, or you get picked up by the police and taken to the reformatory.’

  Dulcie’s eyes widened. The reformatory was the Sisters’ favourite threat and she knew the girls that got sent there had to work in a laundry which was like hell.

  ‘I didn’t know you couldn’t leave until you were eighteen,’ she gasped.

  ‘Neither did I, not until Mother told me. Evil cow, she said it like she hoped I’d run away and get taken there. Anyway, even if I could get to Perth, what sort of job could I do there? I don’t read good like you do.’

  ‘You could work in a shop or a factory,’ Dulcie said, thinking of jobs she remembered girls and women doing back home in England. ‘You could be a nurse, you’re good when people feel poorly.’

  ‘I hardly know what a shop is. I’ve never been in one,’ Sonia replied, her face darkening. ‘Don’t even know what a factory is, ‘cept they make things. I don’t wanna be a nurse, that’s like being a nun. It’s different for you, Dulcie, you know about stuff like that, you’ve seen it. I haven’t. The only two places I’ve ever been to is here, and the place before I was five. I’ve never been on a train, a bus, I don’t know anything.’

  ‘I don’t even know about men,’ Sonia went on. ‘All we get to see here is the priest and the Abo that cuts the grass. Sister Ruth tried to explain stuff to me about men, ‘cos there’ll be lots on the station, but I reckon she don’t know much herself, she said I wasn’t to let them try on any funny stuff, whatcha think that means?’

  Dulcie didn’t answer immediately. Gu
s, the Aborigine man who cut the grass, was nice, he often brought a few sweets in to give to the kids, he smiled all the time, even the Sisters liked him because he was so helpful. Yet she knew perfectly well he wasn’t representative of all males. She remembered her granny’s sarcastic comments about men – she had mostly felt they weren’t to be trusted.

  Aside from her own father and Duncan, Dulcie had hardly given the male sex a thought since she’d been here, and she racked her brain to think of what Sister Ruth might have meant by ‘funny stuff’.

  ‘Well, men can give you babies,’ she said eventually.

  ‘I know that, but that’s when you’re married,’ Sonia giggled.

  ‘You can have babies without being married,’ Dulcie said, remembering what a girl back at the Sacred Heart had told her not long before she left for Australia. ‘But if you do it when you aren’t married you get called a tart or a whore.’

  Sonia giggled at Dulcie using such words. ‘You know everything,’ she said admiringly. ‘I won’t try and find out then. But come on now, let’s go and see who’s winning at the rounders.’

  It was much later that night, when once again Dulcie couldn’t sleep for the heat, that she remembered she and Sonia hadn’t even talked about whether they’d ever see each other again. Perhaps that was because they knew they wouldn’t. It was bad enough here sometimes, but at least they all had one another. What would it be like to be sent out to work and not know one person anywhere?

  Dulcie imagined the map of Australia hanging up in the schoolroom, and recalled that Sister Ruth had made a dot on it to show them all where Sonia was going. It looked such a little way away, but if it was five hundred miles, just how big was the whole country?

  Her last thought before she fell asleep was how ignorant she was. All the other girls thought she knew so much, but she didn’t, not really. Her world was limited to the area inside the fences of St Vincent’s, what the Sisters told her, the few books she’d read, and the voyage from England to here. It didn’t amount to much.