by JB Rowley
“I’m not dancing,” she said. “I’ve just come to keep my cousin company.”
The young soldier flashed a cheeky grin.
“Oh gee whiz. You don’t want this music to go to waste, do ya?”
He held out his arm to her. Myrtle hesitated. She yearned to dance, to glide out across the floor and join the other couples. But would it be right, without Henry? The music stirred memories of happy times at other dances. The young soldier waited. Finally she took his arm and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor. She followed his lead and glided into the quickstep. How natural it felt. They swirled around the floor weaving between other couples. The mauve skirt of her dress sparkled in the light. Her partner held her firmly. Lily caught her eye and they grinned at each other. Before long another handsome young soldier had replaced the first and then another and all too soon the band was playing Auld Lang Syne. Myrtle excused herself from her last partner.
“Will you come next week?” he asked.
She offered him a shy smile, secretly thrilled at his interest in her. It had not occurred to her that men might still find her attractive. She wondered whether he had noticed her wedding band. Well it didn’t make any difference. After all, it was just a dance.
“I don’t think so.”
The young soldier made a mock sad face as he let her go. Myrtle walked over to the door and waited for Lily. Lily excused herself from a group of admiring young soldiers to join Myrtle.
“I had such fun, Myrtle. Did you?”
Lily’s eyes glowed and her cheeks were flushed.
“Oh yes Lily. I hardly ever get out these days and I haven’t been dancing for years.”
“The boys want to give us a ride home. What do you think Myrtle?”
“We should walk, Lily.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
Lily turned and waved goodbye to the waiting group. She took Myrtle’s arm and they walked away from the noisy exuberance in the dance hall. Couples leaned against the trees and walked hand in hand along the path. Myrtle pointed to a soft drink bottle lying in the grass.
“Minnie Ha Ha will make a fortune tomorrow when she collects these bottles,” she said.
Lily laughed. “A penny a bottle. She’d have to collect a lot of bottles to make her fortune.”
Myrtle shrugged. “I guess she doesn’t need much.”
They walked a short way in silence, each girl silently reliving memories of the evening. Lily executed a happy skip.
“It’s such a lovely warm night isn’t it? Thank you Myrtle for coming with me.”
Myrtle smiled. It was no hardship to go anywhere with Lily and she loved to see her cousin enjoying herself.
“Did you meet anyone nice?” she asked.
“Oh, Myrtle. I’m just having a good time. I just like to dance and talk to all of them. I don’t want anyone special just yet. I don’t want to get tied down.”
“Good for you Lily Pilly,” Myrtle replied.
“Myrtle?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sorry? You know, sorry about being married and having children.”
Myrtle paused.
“I’m sorry Myrtle. I shouldn’t have asked you. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“It’s all right, Lily. You’re my best friend. You can ask me anything.”
She was silent for a moment. She searched for the right words to answer Lily’s question.
“I love my kids, Lily. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. But sometimes I wish...” she hesitated before going on. “Well Lily, you just make sure you find Mr Right before you get married, that’s all I can say.”
Lily squeezed Myrtle’s hand.
“Myrtle…”
“What is it Lily?”
“What’s it like... you know… being with a man… I mean… you know… in bed?”
Myrtle blushed.
“You mean… the first time?”
Lily nodded.
“Does it hurt, Myrtle?”
Myrtle tried to push past her memories of the more recent encounters with Henry to recall the first time they were together.
“It doesn’t hurt, Lily. Actually… it’s quite nice.”
“Really! Really, Myrtle?”
“Really.”
They walked on arm in arm. The perfume of jasmine scented the clear night air. From the distant trees came the hoot of the night owl. Lily was thoughtful.
“Myrtle?”
“Yes.”
“You know, Mrs Brussels. That day we saw her in the shop?”
“Hmmm.”
“Do you think it’s all right… you know… doing that?”
“I dunno Lily. I expect lots of people do.”
Lily stopped abruptly.
“Do you really think so, Myrtle?”
“Come on, Lily. Get a move on.”
Myrtle tugged her cousin’s arm to pull her back into motion.
Later that evening Myrtle lay on her bed reliving her time at the dance hall. What a wonderful evening it had been; the soldiers, the dancing couples swirling around the dance floor, the band, and the lights. Her mother-in-law would have plenty say if she knew she had been out dancing and she would find out eventually, Myrtle had no doubt about that. I don’t care, thought Myrtle. There’s nothing wrong with dancing. I haven’t betrayed my husband. Just because she and her old fuddy duddy friends think it isn’t right doesn’t mean I have to stop doing it. I’m good at dancing and it is fun. Henry doesn’t take me out so why shouldn’t I go with Lily? It wasn’t as if Henry cared. Of course she wouldn’t dare say that to her mother-in-law but it was true just the same. Besides it was none of Agnes Bishop’s business! If she wasn’t doing anything wrong it was no concern of anyone’s. Even the thought of facing her mother-in-law’s displeasure could not dampen her spirits.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It was Henry, not his mother, who raised the subject of her evening out with Lily.
“Been sneaking off to the dance hall, have you? Who gave you permission to behave like a hussy?”
He stood glaring at her.
“I wasn’t sneaking off. I was chaperoning Lily, that’s all.”
“Chaperone, my foot! You didn’t see fit to mention it to me, did you?”
Anger flashed through Myrtle.
“And what about you, Henry? You never tell me anything.”
“I’m man of this household. I can do what I please.”
With that he had grabbed his coat and stormed out of the house shutting the door loudly. He didn’t return until very late that evening. The sound of the grandfather clock chimed the hours as Myrtle lay awake waiting for his key in the lock. When the clock struck one and he still hadn’t arrived home she drifted off to sleep. His noisy return awakened her some time after two. He had obviously had too much to drink and was knocking into the furniture as he made his way to his room.
Hearing a whimper from Bertie’s room Myrtle climbed out of bed, lit a candle, put on her dressing gown and tiptoed into the room. When she had satisfied herself that he was sleeping peacefully she made her way back through the lounge room but found her path barred by Henry.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
Startled, she quickly raised her hand to shade the candle.
“I’m just checking on Bertie. I thought I heard him crying.”
“You’re blaming me for that are you? Are you saying I’m too noisy?”
Taken aback by his tone Myrtle did not answer. She was unsure of the right words to use, words that would not aggravate him further. Using the door frame for support he leaned toward her, the smell of whisky heavy on his breath.
“Get out of my house!” he yelled.
Myrtle was startled. “What?”
“You heard me. Take the baby with you.”
“What are you saying Henry?”
“She’s not my child is she?”
Myrtle could hardly believe her ears. What was he saying? Tears s
prang to her eyes as she moved to pass by him and return to her room. He leered after her, still clinging to the door frame.
“Mother tells me everything, you know. We know what goes on.”
Ignoring him she closed the door firmly behind her hoping he would not try to enter the room. She sighed with relief when she heard him stumble to his own room and close the door with a bang. It was a long sleepless night for Myrtle.
The early morning light brought with it the dread of having to face Henry. He slept late and when he did surface he seemed to have forgotten the evening’s tirade. He was his usual self, demanding his tea and breakfast and newspaper. Her body was tense, waiting for more accusations and demands but he ate silently, engrossed in the paper. He didn’t mention the previous night’s incident and seemed to have no recollection of what he had said.
Despite everything she was determined to make the most of this marriage, to provide a good home for the children although she found it increasingly difficult. Henry seemed to become more distant as time passed. He was polite enough when they were in company but at home he barely spoke to her and had little time for the children. They seemed to be always arguing even though they saw each other infrequently. She blamed it on the war. After all he must be worried. They had heard dreadful stories about the fighting in the Middle East and boys returning home with terrible injuries. Who knows what awaits the men in strange countries overseas?
The town seemed to be in a similar state of tension and confusion as her marriage. Albury was not the same anymore. Soldiers in uniform. People talking of digging trenches to escape bombs. Parents worried about their sons going to war; those with sons already fighting fearful the telegram boy would one day knock on the door. People were behaving differently. Some displayed a sort of forced gaiety while others were unusually solemn and tense. Many were suspicious and resentful of people they had known for years just because they had German backgrounds.
The summer dragged on. Days that should have been pleasant times were overshadowed for Myrtle by an uneasy feeling that haunted her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what was causing the feeling although she knew it had nothing to do with the war. They were invited to the home of the Townsend family a couple of times during the summer. Myrtle sat in the shade of the huge jacaranda tree at the back of the tennis court thankful that the children gave her an excuse not to participate in the game. Audrey slept in the pram. Bertie sat on her knee, sometimes hopping down to run after a passing tennis ball.
Tennis was not a game she had learned to play. Being brought up on the farm offered her little opportunity for learning social games. Learning practical things like riding a horse and driving a tractor were more important. Her father had given her swimming lessons in the dam, which resulted in her acquiring an awkward dog paddle. But sports like tennis and skiing were for those who could afford them. Social occasions for her and her family did not include lazing by the tennis court drinking home made lemonade. They were more likely to be outings in the truck to pick blackberries or mushrooms.
She watched the others play. Henry didn’t make much of an effort to include her although Shirley and her family were polite and friendly. Shirley’s mother sat with her and offered to look after the children if she wanted to play but Myrtle made excuses and stayed under the tree. All too soon Henry would be on the battlefield. She was relieved to see him enjoying himself and hoped that the social occasions would lessen the tension between them. But, if anything, it seemed to increase their difficulties.
Myrtle found herself feeling pleased when the time came for Henry’s division to leave for their overseas posting. She prepared Bertie for his father’s departure. “Daddy has to go on a big holiday. He’ll write you lots of letters,” she explained, repeating the comment in Henry’s presence hoping it would act as a reminder to write to his family. Even so, she felt sure his mother would be the recipient of most of the letters, forcing her to suffer the humiliation of keeping up to date with her husband through her mother-in-law.
In the days before his departure she was careful not to antagonise Henry. To her surprise he crept into her room two nights before he was due to leave, undressed and got into bed beside her. It was the first time since Audrey had been born that he had shown an inclination to claim his marital rights. She did not resist. His hands pulled at her night-dress and she felt the weight of his body on top of her. Then he was inside her, urgently consumed in desire.
Her mother would not have approved. Having just passed the baby free time, the few days after the menstrual period when, according to the Catholics, the risk of fertilisation was minimal to nil, she knew the possibility of pregnancy was high. But she made no effort to hold herself back even though she found it difficult to enjoy the process. Feeling almost detached she listened to Henry’s grunts mingled with the distant sound of the night owl. As his body moved against hers she was conscious of his smell, a mixture of tobacco, whisky and sweat.
Then it was over and he rolled back on to the mattress beside her. In a detached way, as though observing a change in someone else, she was aware of her sense of relief, and with that observation came the realisation that her heart had hardened toward him. A part of her still clung to the memory of the Henry she knew, or thought she knew before they were married, but the unavoidable truth that she would not rediscover him that way struck her with a pang of sorrow for what might have been. Marriage had let her down badly. It wasn’t the wonderful experience she had dreamt about. Gone was the dream of cooking beautiful meals, rushing eagerly to greet her husband at the door as he swept the children up in his arms, kissed her and told her how much he had missed them all. It wasn’t like that at all. Still it was done now and she would make the most of it. He was still her husband and she would continue to be his wife.
She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. When she awoke in the morning he had already returned to his own room. Neither of them mentioned their brief encounter.
A few days later Henry was on his way to war. On the day of his departure he said his goodbyes to the children at the house telling Myrtle it would be too busy at the station. She made no protest and picked Bertie up to kiss his father goodbye. She picked Audrey up and held her out to Henry. He hesitated, avoiding her eyes before bending forward and placing a light kiss on Audrey’s cheek. As he straightened up, he adjusted his hat, tucking the strap under his chin, and pulled his uniform neatly into place. Then he was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Several weeks later Myrtle paused, duster raised, in front of Henry’s photo. How would he react to her latest news? He looked rather handsome in his army uniform, smiling out at her from the gilded frame, she thought wistfully. She kept his picture displayed in the lounge room, so the children would not forget their father. As soon as the doctor confirmed her suspicions she would write to him. Bertie and Audrey would be pleased to have a baby brother or sister to cuddle. She also looked forward to having a tiny bundle to hold in her arms but she could not be sure of Henry’s reaction.
The sharp ring of the doorbell startled her. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Her mother and Agnes Bishop used the back door, which was always unlocked, and on these hot autumn days was often open in the hope a breeze would bring some relief from the heat. Removing her apron she folded it and draped it loosely over the back of a chair at the kitchen table, then quickly checked her appearance in the hall mirror and smoothed the front of her dress.
When she opened the door Shirley Townsend, smartly attired in a short-sleeved blue cotton dress that caught the deep blue of her eyes, stood before her. An elegant navy hat covered her fair hair, which was tucked up at the back. Shirley was the last person she expected to visit her while Henry was away. She was Henry’s friend and although they were cordial to each other she and Shirley had little in common. Despite her surprise she smiled a greeting
“Shirley! Come in.”
Myrtle held the door open wider to allow Shirley to step through. She gestured toward the lounge
and followed her visitor in the wake of a faint sweet scent of violets. Shirley did not remove her hat. Perhaps she was just delivering a message of some sort, maybe news of Henry. Myrtle hadn’t heard from her husband for some weeks. Her mother-in-law had not mentioned any letters either. But Myrtle thought that was just Henry’s way and continued to send him twice-weekly reports of the children and their progress.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked.
Shirley looked a little confused.
“Well… I…” she hesitated. “Well, I mean I guess you know what I’ve come to talk to you about?”
Myrtle looked at her visitor quizzically.
“Well, for heavens sake Myrtle. We’ll have to get it out into the open. Henry did write you after all.”
Myrtle had received only one letter from Henry since he had been shipped out. She tried to remember its contents. Was there something in there she was supposed to discuss with Shirley? She couldn’t remember anything out of the ordinary. It was mainly a report of the trip over and questions about the children, and a missive to make sure she was looking out for his mother and helping her in any way she could. Anxious not to appear dumb in front of this smart self-confident friend of her husband’s she shrugged and murmured.
“Yes, he did write.”
She sat down opposite Shirley.
“Well?”
Shirley’s manner appeared to change. The polite façade dropped away. She looked directly at Myrtle. Her confidence seemed to have increased. Her smile held the hint of sly triumph. Myrtle was mystified. What did it mean? She shrugged, not sure how to answer.
“Well… I mean… what are you going to do?” Shirley continued.
“Do?” queried Myrtle.
She hoped the situation would become clear soon. She racked her brains trying to remember Henry’s letter but she couldn’t recall anything that might throw light on the reason for Shirley’s visit.
