by JB Rowley
Bertie did not behave well when she visited. While Audrey ran to meet her with arms outstretched Bertie waited silently with solemn brown eyes staring at her. He remained quiet while she was there and seemed absorbed in his own world. He wouldn’t tell her about the things he had been doing and answered her questions with a barely audible yes or no. Sometimes he didn’t speak at all but simply moved his head. Myrtle worried that he blamed her and wondered what Henry’s mother had told him. She missed the closeness she once had with him, missed his tight little arms around her neck and the way he used to run his fingers over her brooch, tracing the pattern and trying to look into the little coloured bits of glass as if he might see another world inside each of them. She wore the brooch on visiting days and tried to interest him in it but he just looked away and gazed out the window. The only time she saw any reaction or emotion from him was when it was time for her to leave. He screamed, threw himself on the floor and yelled and beat the floor with his hands.
“I hate you! I hate you! You don’t love me! You don’t love me!” he sobbed over and over again.
When she tried to console him he pushed her way. After the first few visits Matron’s assistant would come and take Audrey and little Noel away before Myrtle said goodbye to Bertie. She tried to explain how much she loved him and wanted him home with her but how could he understand? “Mummy take me home!” he yelled. How could she explain? She couldn’t tell him his grandmother and his father had put him there. He would add two more people to the list that he perceived didn’t love him. How could she explain she was powerless against them? He expected her to be able to fix anything. Didn’t she always make everything all right, a bandage for his cut when he fell, medicine for his cough when he was sick and a hug when he had a nightmare? She couldn’t explain and she felt guilty. Wasn’t she to blame after all? She hadn’t taken care of her children properly after Noel was born.
As he lay on the floor she would give him one last kiss. “Mummy will always love you,” she whispered in his ear hoping he would listen and remember. Then she walked away, tears welling in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. Sometimes it was too much for her. One day, as soon as she was out of sight, she leaned up against a hedged fence and burst into tears, oblivious of the stares of passers by. Somewhere in a distant part of her brain she recognised the clackety clack of a bicycle cart being pulled along the street and acknowledged the sound as Minnie Ha Ha’s bike. Startled by a tap on her shoulder she jumped and turned, tears still streaming down her cheeks. She looked into the wild face of Minnie whose eyes expressed sympathy and kindness.
“What’s up love?” she asked with unusual gentleness.
The surprise of being approached directly by Minnie and the strangeness of her manner stopped Myrtle’s tears. She slumped down on the bottom part of the stone fence that served as a bench; her back pushed up against the thick hedge. Minnie sat down beside her, pulling her bike alongside. Her unwashed smell tickled Myrtle’s nostrils. An old brown hat patterned in holes generated by moths and wear and tear flattened itself on her head. Pulled over her dress was a worn red cardigan, the sleeves were several sizes too small, leaving her forearms exposed. The top button had been replaced by a safety pin. Her bare legs were covered by a plain brown skirt with a crease several inches above the bottom revealing its once large hem had been let down. Her feet were clad in a pair of men’s boots, the tongues hanging out through the laceless flaps. When Minnie opened her mouth Myrtle saw several gaps where teeth had long since gone missing.
“What’s up, love?” Minnie repeated.
Myrtle found herself telling this crazy old lady about her children, how they were taken, about Henry’s coldness and how she missed her kids. This outcast creature heard things she had not even been able to confide to her mother or Lily. Minnie Ha Ha listened attentively. Her eyes expressed deep compassion, even love, thought Myrtle. When she finished her story Minnie reached out one of her rough old hands and touched Myrtle’s forearm gently.
“I’ve seen the kids from that home, love. It’s a good home,” she said in her croaky voice. “They do their job well. That matron is a kind soul. Don’t you worry, love. Your kids’ll get well looked after there, I can tell ya that for a fact.”
“I’m their mother. They should be with me.”
“Well,” said Minnie firmly. “It’s no use crying over spilt milk. What’s done is done. Ya just gotta take it from there. Look at all them kids they’ve sent out here from London. How d’ya think those parents feel? Their kids are thousands of miles away living with strangers. Their hearts must be breakin’ and they’d be worried sick. Don’t ya reckon they’d be worried sick?”
Minnie paused and shook her head, dropping both hands into her lap.
“But them parents don’t have much choice with the bombs killing everyone over there including little babies,” she continued. “They’re tryin’ to keep their kids alive. That’s what’s important to them. They can’t even see their little ones and goodness knows how long that will be for. Ya gotta think about that. At least your kids are alive and ya can see ‘em.”
Myrtle hadn’t thought about that before. Those poor parents. How did they cope? Not even being able to see their kids, to send them away to a place they didn’t even know. Consumed by the unfairness of her own situation and the injustice of lies and their consequences she had not considered that someone else might be in a worse situation. She had thought about those who had lost their sons fighting the enemy but that was different. At least those mothers had seen their sons grow up but she was being deprived of that. She wanted to see Bertie and Audrey grow up, and little Noel. He was so like his brother and both of them the spitting image of their father. If Henry could see him he’d surely know no one else could be Noel’s father.
Minnie stood up. She placed her hands on the handlebars and swung herself up on the bicycle seat.
“Take it from me. Worse things can happen to ya. Besides, yer bound to get yer kids back when everything’s back to normal.”
She placed her feet on the pedals and began to ride away, calling back over her shoulder.
“You’re young enough to have more kids, anyway. Plenty more!”
Myrtle hadn’t considered that. It wouldn’t be the same as having Bertie and Audrey and Noel but she longed to hold a baby in her arms. She watched Minnie ride away until the clackety clack of her cart faded and her figure grew small in the distance. She wondered about Minnie’s baby. Had she really been taken away and put in an asylum? Had she even had a baby?
Myrtle stood up, smoothed her skirt and continued walking along the streets, lost in thought, not knowing where she was going. She stopped when she found herself on the bridge. Gripping the rail she looked down at the water swirling and swelling below. Minnie Ha Ha’s words seemed to have eased some of her pain. She started to feel a little better about the Children’s Home. Minnie wouldn’t have said kind words about it unless they were true. Minnie Ha Ha called a spade a spade that much she did know.
Memories flowed back to her. Memories of how she had felt after the birth of Noel, how difficult it was to cope, how afraid she had been of hurting the children and how she’d been unable to find the energy to clean the house. It had taken a great deal of effort just to force herself to take care of the kids. Now she admitted silently to herself that she should have done a much better job of looking after them. She deserved to be punished. It was really all her own fault. This might not have happened had she been a better mother. The anguish she now had to endure was her punishment but she took comfort from Minnie’s final words.
“You’re young enough to have more kids… Plenty more!”
She thought back over the past few years reviewing everything dispassionately, seeing things more clearly. Finally she acknowledged that she had played a part in it all by being incredibly naïve. In retrospect she could see it all so clearly. How could she have been such a fool? If she had been more sensible, if she had been wiser… things would
have been different.
The sun was low in the sky when, walking away from the river, she felt her inner turmoil beginning to settle for the first time. I’ll do everything I can to get them back. And I will have more kids. Plenty more. She turned so that she was facing in the direction of the Children’s Home. Then she whispered a promise.
“I won’t forget you Bertie. I won’t forget you Audrey. I won’t forget you little Noel.”
As time went by Myrtle took comfort from Minnie Ha Ha’s assessment of the Children’s Home. She was correct; the children were very well cared for. Audrey seemed content enough and waited for her with Bertie every visiting day. Matron’s assistant would bring Noel from the nursery, sometimes wrapped in a woollen shawl, his little pink feet showing through the pattern of his cream booties.
The times she spent with George were times she could escape the pain of her loss for a while. It was important to her that he did not see her suffering so when she saw him she laughed and teased. Strangely enough this pretence of cheerfulness actually made her feel better and she began to look forward to his visits. They went for picnics and long bike rides in the country and sometimes to the pictures. He was a perfect gentleman and for that she was grateful. He seemed to sense that she was still confused and needed time to sort herself out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It was only a few weeks after they met that George first asked Myrtle to marry him. She simply tossed her head and laughed, not giving him an answer but his face was serious.
“I don’t even know you,” she said by way of explanation. “Ask me again next month when I know you better.”
He smiled and the next month he asked her again. She didn’t laugh this time but simply rested her head on his shoulder. Feeling the strength of his body as she pressed against it, she willed it to pass to her. His arms went around her protectively making her feel warm and safe. They were sitting on a picnic rug in the shade of a huge gum tree in their favourite spot some miles out of the town, away from prying eyes. He held her like that for a long time making no attempt to try to kiss her or fondle her. He seemed to understand her needs so well. After that day she felt much closer to him. She began to trust him and wondered if she should tell him about Henry and her kids but she was afraid of losing his respect. What would he think of her? He probably wouldn’t want to marry her and he might believe the things that others believed about her.
George did not press her about her private life but listened attentively when she told him about growing up on the farm, about her father and mother and her father’s death. He was sympathetic and told her about his family. Like her, he was an only child and had grown up on a farm, a dairy farm down south in East Gippsland. He had started learning the carpentry trade before the war. His family had moved off the farm during the Depression and now lived in the township of Orbost.
“It’s right on the Snowy River,” he said. “It’s a pretty important river the Snowy, some bloke write a poem about it.”
“So you’re The Man from Snowy River, are you?” teased Myrtle
He smiled indulgently.
“Clancy of the overflow, don’t you know?”
Then he became serious.
“Orbost isn’t a big town like Albury but it’s a nice little town and the people all help each other out. It’s a good place to live.”
Then he added with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes, “You’d like it there.”
“Maybe I would and maybe I wouldn’t,” said Myrtle with a laugh. He smiled, apparently pleased at her response.
As the weeks flew by, she saw more and more of George, looking forward with anticipation to their time together. He took her into another world. They talked of happy things and made happy memories together. With him she felt young again, young and pretty and happy. Her mother seemed to approve of George and encouraged his visits.
He became more insistent with his proposals of marriage when it was rumoured in the camp that his division might be posted to Darwin. Myrtle was confused. She didn’t know what to do. How could they get married? It would take years for her divorce from Henry to be arranged and finalised. What would George do if she told him she was a married woman with three children? Suddenly she realised she didn’t want to lose him. He was the one thing in her life that gave her hope. Looking at her reflection in the mirror she wondered what he would say if she told him her hair was grey. It wasn’t noticeable, she was sure of that. The colour she used was very effective. If she told him about Henry would he wait around while the divorce was arranged? Would he still want her or would she lose him?
One evening before he arrived for a good home cooked meal as he always called it; she brought the subject up with her mother.
“You deserve to be happy, love,” she said. “You don’t have to tell him anything if you don’t want to. On the other hand, if he really loves you it won’t make a scrap of difference to him.”
Myrtle didn’t find her mother’s answer helpful. During dinner she was quiet and thoughtful. When the meal was over Mrs Mathews and her mother went out for a game of cards across the road; an excuse they sometimes made to give Myrtle and George time together. George offered to help with the dishes. Myrtle liked the feeling of having him in the kitchen. Watching him wiping the dishes with the familiar checked tea towel she thought he looked perfectly at home.
When they had finished and returned to the couch in the lounge he said, “Something on your mind, love?”
She averted her eyes and hung her head.
“You’ve been very quiet tonight, eh,” he pressed.
The words remained trapped within; even though she knew she had to tell him. She wanted so much to accept his proposal of marriage and start a new life, to hold a baby in her arms again, to hear the laughter of little children again. He seemed to know what was on her mind.
“You know Myrtle,” he said thoughtfully. “We hear a lot about Albury at the base. When we’re not talking about our own homes we’re talking about Albury and what goes on in this town.”
She looked at him wondering what he was going to say next.
“I don’t mean gossip. I’m not one for listening to gossip. What I mean is, well for example I’ve got this mate and he’s fallen in love with a really nice Albury girl. Now he heard from someone else that she’s been married before, got married very young you know. But well he heard about it before she was ready to tell him. I mean these sorts of things happen.”
Myrtle lowered her eyes.
“Did it make any difference to him?” she asked.
“Gosh no!” he replied. “Why do women always think like that? He loves her for what she is. Why should it make any difference to him? She’s still the same girl isn’t she, eh?”
He made it sound so simple with his down to earth logic. There was a comfortable silence between them. Then she told him about Henry. She told him about the children, slowly, hesitating, stumbling over the words and in the telling she relived the pain. He put his arms around her and held her close. When she finished she lay quietly in his arms. He kissed her hair softly.
“Everything will be all right,” he whispered.
They lay on the couch together for a few moments. He caressed her gently and she responded, enjoying the closeness.
“Should we turn off the light?”
Myrtle got up, turned off the light and returned to his arms. What does it matter that I am married, she thought. When I was faithful they accused me of being unfaithful. So if that’s what they want then that’s what I’ll be, she thought defiantly, leaning closer to him and pressing her body against his. He groaned, pulling her closer so that she felt his hardness against her. Her body quickened with desire and anticipation. Her lips, warm and soft, parted under his. Their tongues moved against each other sending a searing fire of passion through her body. He murmured with pleasure, caressing her. Then his hand was on her bare thigh, moving up to her mound of hair. His fingers moved lightly as he stroked her; then they were inside, s
troking and caressing. Her body responded in sheer pleasure.
“I love you,” he murmured. “I love you.”
Her hand went down to his penis, straining hard against his trousers. Almost two hours later they lay together, contented. It was the first time Myrtle had felt that the physical act could be an expression of love.
“Now you are truly my wife,” he whispered.
She nodded, her head resting on his chest.
“We don’t need a piece of paper,” he continued. “I am your husband. I will always love you.”
She snuggled close to him feeling safe, and happier than she had felt in a very long time. When it was time for him to return to the army base he held her in a long farewell embrace and whispered, “Don’t forget, you are my wife now.”
“I won’t forget.”
In the days that followed she dreamed about their future life together. George held her hand as they walked through flower filled fields. Their laughing children romped amid the flowers. Bertie, Audrey and little Noel were there with them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“I want my kids back, Mum.”
Myrtle stood at the kitchen sink washing the potatoes. Her mother sat at the table with her knees apart, her apron, laden with fresh green peapods ballooned between her thighs. She scooped the pods up one after the other, expertly split the skins and stripped the pods of the plump round peas that lay side by side within. Throughout her childhood Myrtle had watched her mother shelling peas. The familiar vision stirred other memories; memories of her mother with magical solutions to her problems. Even when her problem seemed insurmountable her mother always managed to find an answer. Desperation drove her to believe her mother would find a solution for her now. Etti’s answer shattered Myrtle’s illusions.
