‘Lads who’ve been caught writing bad letters told me after they’d been beaten or been put in the hole.’
Bruce’s eyes widened. ‘Hole, what hole?’
‘It’s an old dry well, a couple of hundred yards from the ablutions shed. It’s cold and damp and black as coal down there. Brother Lucas says the darkness drives the evil out of troublemakers. Some say boys have died from pneumonia after being in the hole.’
Bruce looked afraid. For a long time he looked down sadly at the letter in his hand. When he looked up there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. ‘Then my letters haven’t been read, because I haven’t been punished.’
Strickland stared up into the ceiling. ‘You bloody little fool,’ Strickland whispered angrily. ‘You don’t even know half of what’s going on here. I’ll tell you why you haven’t been punished and I’ll tell you why your armband came off. Jack’s become one of the chosen.’
Bruce looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean, one of the chosen ?’
‘It’s what the boys say here when one of the brothers takes a shine to someone. Brother Lucas has taken a shine to Jack. That’s why he’s going easy on you.’
Bruce said nothing as he took in what Strickland had said. After a few moments he said: ‘I wonder why Brother Lucas likes Jack so much. But if what you say is true, I suppose at least I’ve something to be thankful for. ’
‘You’re stupid’. Strickland shook his head. ‘You don’t know what I mean, do you? You don’t know anything at all. Didn’t you learn anything out there in the bush on your cattle station or whatever it was? Don’t you know about queers?’
Bruce felt his face flush as a mixture of revulsion and panic rose in him. He knew about queers. That’s what they had called the boy at school in Toowoomba who’d been expelled because he liked boys instead of girls, the one who’d been caught in the toilet with another boy with all their clothes off.
‘You mean the brothers are queers?’ Bruce said in amazement.
‘Not all of them,’ Strickland said solemnly. ‘Probably just a few. Trouble is no one knows for certain which ones. Those that are, threaten the boys with the hole if they tell anyone.’
‘How do you know Brother Lucas is one of them?’
‘Because when I first came here after my mother died, he took a shine to me.’ Strickland spoke very quietly. ‘When he started touching me, I kicked and punched him. He put me in the hole. I was there for three days. When he let me out, he started messing about again and so I hit him again. I didn’t care about the hole. It was better than doing what he wanted me to do.’
‘And, did he send you back?’
‘No. He took a shine to someone else. He’s like that. His favorites come and go. He just told me in future I had to do everything else he asked me. Because I’m bigger than most of the boys he made me a sort of prefect. He said he needed someone to keep an eye on the others, someone they were scared of, someone who’d make sure they followed the rules.’
‘And you’re sure Jack is Brother Lucas’ favorite now, and he’s making Jack do things for him?’
‘Oh yes, I’m sure of it,’ Strickland said. ‘But remember, whatever Jack’s doing, he’s doing it for you. He’s doing it to keep you out of trouble. Otherwise he would have told you what was going on.’
*
Emma kept her secret to herself for months. She told no one, not even her mother, preferring not to shatter her dream of a new beginning in New England. And she wanted to tell Stephen face to face when he came to New England. But Stephen never came. And soon after he stopped writing, so did Emma.
Summer came to New England. By continually wearing loose fitting frocks Emma was still able to conceal her swelling breasts and belly. Somehow she was able to get through the long days at Mrs Shapiro’s, surrounded by cheerful work mates who remained unaware of her condition or the burden she carried in her mind.
But in her bed at night, the old enemy returned, the long black empty hours before dawn, And they cruelly tormented her, just as they had done in the long nights toward the end at Yallambee.
*
The cream of Sydney’s social register witnessed the marriage of Eleanor Muriel Bowes-Scott to Stephen Clarence Fairchild in St Mary’s Cathedral, on a sunny morning in October At the end of the service the bride and groom walked back down the long aisle under the admiring eyes of hundreds of wedding guests who filled every pew in the grand old building.
For Eleanor, radiant in an exquisite wedding dress with an usually long train, the marriage ceremony was the culmination of her every girlhood dream. It also gave her new status among her peers by snaring one of Sydney’s most eligible bachelors. She smiled through tears of joy as she glided smoothly down the aisle, here and there acknowledging a friend or relative in the crowd.
Stephen looked immaculate in a grey morning-suit. With Eleanor on one arm and his topper tucked neatly into the other, he looked more reserved and subdued than his bride. The day had not brought Stephen the same joy and satisfaction. What it did bring though, as his father had so succinctly put it the night before, was the certainty of a life free from the nagging possibility that one day a murder charge might be laid against him.
After the service, a lavish reception was held at the Carlton Hotel in Castlereagh Street. As the wedding guests left St Mary’s in scores of chauffeur-driven motorcars, few of them gave a second glance to a large and noisy crowd gathered in the Domain, a large area of parkland just across the street from the cathedral.
*
The huge crowd in the Domain, was made up mainly of trade unionists preparing for a legal march. The remainder were members of the Unemployed Workers Union, come to hear their advocate, Bill Travis, speak and to join in the march. Many of the unemployed men had their wives and children with them. The mood was jubilant. Everyone seemed to be sharing a new feeling of hope for the future.
Days earlier, the socialist government of Prime Minister Scullin had met its day of reckoning. The adoption and implementation of the savage cost-cutting Premiers’ Plan, finally brought its downfall when federal socialist supporters of Jack Lang voted with the opposition on a motion of no-confidence. Although Scullin managed to survive the vote itself, circumstances forced him to call a double dissolution of the House of Representatives and the Senate.
The trade union movement saw the federal government’s demise as an opportunity to draw public support for the repudiation of the ten per cent wage cut imposed on all unionists by the Scullin government. And the Lang government, seeing its opposition to the Premiers’ Plan vindicated, and wishing to be seen as responsive to the wishes of workers, temporarily relaxed the ban on street marches. Trade unionists were allowed to march, providing they did so peacefully. And to ensure they did, Lang ordered a large contingent of police to be present.
‘The routing of the weak and impotent Scullin Government is just a small step in the right direction.’ Bill Travis spoke from atop a flat deck truck to an attentive audience of shabbily dressed battlers. The truck, carrying officials of the Unemployed Workers Union and festooned with slogans, was later to join the procession when it moved off towards the inner city.
‘But it is an important step,’ Bill continued. ‘We must continue to stand together. United we stand, divided we fall. We must insist on our right to be employed. Without jobs, we have no purchasing power. Without purchasing power, we have no respect. Without respect we have no pride or even self-respect. Today we have an opportunity to demand publicly the right to work. All I ask is that your demands be made peacefully.’
Bill had become a persuasive and convincing speaker, no mean achievement for an ex-coal miner with little education. His words brought a long and loud round of applause. He was about to continue when someone hopped up onto the truck and had a word in his ear.
‘Ladies and Gentlemen.’ Bill announced when the man jumped back to the ground. ‘I’ve just been told the march will be starting shortly. So will you all take your positions behind this v
ehicle? Our union will bring up the rear behind all the trade unions as they proceed out of the Domain on Prince Albert Road.’
Bill jumped down from the truck and joined the exuberant crowd. Everyone was in high spirits, for once legally able to march off down the streets of Sydney, holding aloft signs and banners protesting the plight of the hungry and homeless, and all believing it could, and would, make a difference. For the children it was like a family outing, a special day in the park in a happy carnival atmosphere. Excitement filled the air as the thousands of marchers took up their positions.
Gradually, the long procession began to leave the Domain under the watchful eyes of the police, many of them mounted on horseback. As the Unemployed Workers Union awaited their turn to join the march, a police sergeant walked over to where Bill stood. It was the same elderly sergeant Bill had seen at the New Guard meeting at the Sydney Town Hall earlier in the year.
‘How are you, Bill?’ The sergeant asked.
Bill turned to the policeman. ‘I’m fine, Sergeant Lockwood. Everything okay? No trouble I hope.’
‘Oh, no trouble…. yet. But I thought I’d just tell you that you and your people have been getting a lot of interest from the New Guard today.
‘The New Guard?’ Bill looked surprised.
The sergeant shook his head and grinned. ‘I think there’s as many guardsmen here today as coppers. They hang around trying to look like just anyone else in the park, but I can pick them out a mile away. They’ve had their pencils and paper out a lot today, and I’ve seen some of them taking snapshots. Just thought I’d let you know.’
As Sergeant Lockwood walked away, a senior mounted police officer rode over and reined in beside him. ‘Sergeant,’ he announced loudly. ‘You must tell these people that they can’t fall in behind the trade unionists. The permit to march allows for members of recognized trade unions only. We’ve been told no one else is allowed to march.’
There was no need for the sergeant to tell the crowd, the closest of the marchers heard the mounted policeman’s instruction clearly and the mood of the crowd soon became hostile.
‘Told by who?’ shouted someone in the crowd.
‘By the Premier’s office,’ the mounted officer replied haughtily. The word came from Mr Lang himself.’
‘But why?’ the same voice called out.
The officer raised himself up in his stirrups. His voice carried across the park. ‘The Premier’s office says this is a lawful march for trade union members only. Marching by unemployed people is an unlawful demonstration against the state government. Any unemployed persons who attempt to march will be arrested. You must all disband and go home, now.’
A roar of indignation went up from the unemployed and their families. The procession was moving out of the Domain and the last of the trade unionists were moving off. It was now or never for the unemployed. But it was too late to quell the eager enthusiasm and soaring spirits which had been building all morning. The truck driver seized the initiative and slipped the vehicle into gear. As it rolled forward, the marchers closed ranks behind it with their banners raised high, cheering at the tops of their voices.
‘Do your duty, sergeant,’ the mounted policeman shouted. He spurred his horse. ‘I’ll get reinforcements.’
‘God almighty, Bill,’ the sergeant shouted. ‘For Christ’s sake try and stop them. You know what will happen.’
Bill knew what would happen only too well. He jumped onto the running board of the truck and pleaded with the driver to stop. When the driver ignored him, he jumped to the ground and ran beside the vehicle imploring the leaders of the Unemployed Workers Union to call off joining the march. But like everyone, they were caught up in the euphoria of the moment and just held out their hands to Bill, urging him to jump up onto the truck and ride with them.
Bill was still limping along beside the truck when the first wave of mounted policemen charged. They encircled the slow-moving vehicle and smashed the windows of the cab with their batons. When the driver jumped out, his face cut and streaming with blood, he was batoned to the ground unconscious. When he fell, officials on the back of the truck leapt from it and ran for their lives. A second wave of mounted policemen eagerly pursued them. The runners were no match for the horses and their riders cruelly toyed with their quarry, allowing them to run almost to the edge the of park before eventually bludgeoning them to the ground.
The carnival mood suddenly changed to a stunned, angry silence. Most of the unemployed were now standing still, too afraid to move, and they watched in horror as the few who continued to march were cut down by baton-wielding policemen. They stood helpless and grim-faced, many with protective arms around their wives and children as they witnessed the age-old phenomenon of man’s inhumanity to man.
Bill stood off to one side near Sergeant Lockwood with a small group of people he had persuaded not to join the march. They were people he knew, neighbors from the inner suburb of Redfern where he lived. Like all the onlookers, Bill was barely able to contain his rage. But he knew from experience the utter futility of trying to resist and he hoped the seething emotions in the crowd wouldn’t boil over and explode into a full-blown riot.
At that moment, the driver of the truck came to and groggily staggered to his feet. Without moving his horse, one of the mounted policemen leaned down in the saddle and knocked the driver back to the ground with a forceful baton blow to the face.
Pushed to the brink, the crowd groaned and swayed forward in protest. Bill knew the situation was at flash point. With horror he saw a neighbor, Molly Gallimore, lower her placard and lunge at the mounted policeman. The long timber pole struck the officer in the face with such force that he was almost knocked from his horse. As he swayed in the saddle with blood gushing from a deep gash in his cheek, a dozen or more marchers who were unable to contain their anger any longer, surged forward, pulled the policeman off his mount and laid into him with their fists.
In seconds there was pandemonium. The mounted policemen spurred their horses into the crowd. The big tight-reined thoroughbreds, frothing and snorting at the bit, cut wide swaths through the unemployed, knocking men, women and children to the ground like nine pins in a skittle alley.
When at last the confrontation subsided, many arrests were made. One of those arrested as a matter of course was Bill Travis. He was released later, but only after an intense interrogation during which he was able to convince the police that he didn’t know the identity of the woman who had struck the officer with the placard, and who had somehow managed to vanish into thin air during the mêlée.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Emma was able to keep her secret well into December, but an exploratory touch of her mother’s hand over the front of her loose dress confirmed Kathleen’s suspicions.
‘It was the weekend you went to Port Macquarie with Stephen Fairchild, wasn’t it?’ Kathleen asked softly, with no trace of anger or disappointment in her voice.
Emma nodded her head. They were sitting close together outside in the sunshine at Crestview. For the first time since discovering she was pregnant, Emma allowed herself to cry. She let the tears flow freely down her cheeks, soft comforting tears of release as the weight of the burden she had carried alone for so long was lifted from her.
‘Does he know, Emma?’ Kathleen asked when the moment was right.
‘No, Mother.’
‘Have you seen or heard from him lately?’ Kathleen gently ran a hand through Emma’s hair.
‘No. And I won’t use the baby to bring him to me.’
Neither spoke for a long time.
‘Oh, Mother,’ Emma said eventually, ‘ I’ve let you and the twins down so badly. We had such a good chance to make a fresh start and I’ve ruined it all for everyone.’
‘You must not blame yourself, my darling,’ Kathleen said soothingly. ‘We’ll manage. We will make it through. We have the only thing that is important. The four of us still have each other.’ Kathleen smiled a tiny smile. ‘And soon we’ll
be five.’
‘But what will people say?’ Emma said. ‘What about Mrs Nadin? What about my job at Mrs Shapiro’s? What will we do for money?’
‘Now don’t you worry about that, Emma,’ Kathleen said. ‘I think you’ll find things won’t be as bad as you think. Everyone seems so nice and kind in Armidale. I’m sure they’ll be very understanding.’
*
‘I’m afraid under the circumstances you must leave immediately.’ Mrs Nadin said bluntly when Emma broke the news. ‘My girls attending the teachers college will all be going home for Christmas holidays very soon. If they tell their parents that my residence for young ladies has turned into a home for unwed mothers, none of them will be allowed to return. You do understand, don’t you?’
‘I am paid in advance for a week yet, Mrs Nadin,’ Emma said coolly. ‘In the meantime, I shall make other arrangements for accommodation. And I’m sorry if my unborn child and I should cause you any embarrassment or loss of revenue.’ Without waiting for a response from the landlady, Emma closed the door firmly behind her and left the house.
When Emma told Mrs Shapiro, she was stunned by her employer’s self-righteousness and the venom of her personal assault on her morals.
‘You have sinned, Emma,’ Mrs Shapiro said. She spoke in a high shrill voice which escaped none of the eager ears of the operators sitting at their sewing machines. ‘You are irresponsible, inconsiderate and ungrateful and you have behaved like a bitch on heat. If you have no common decency or self-respect there is no place for you here. I am a God-fearing woman. When Mrs Nadin told me of your predicament, I helped you in the true Christian spirit of compassion, goodwill and trust. Now you have betrayed that trust, and in the worst possible way.’
The humiliation Emma felt at the start of Mrs Shapiro’s tirade quickly changed to anger. But when she opened her mouth to speak, Mrs Shapiro turned abruptly and walked away. Without looking back she called out:
‘Whatever is owing to you, Emma, I shall send it around to Mrs Nadin’s later today. Now I’d be grateful if you would leave these premises and never come back.’
The Light Horseman's Daughter Page 13
