Morning in Melbourne

by Nicole Taylor

  Louise felt relieved. As the most highly qualified and professionally experienced person in the program, she knew she was safe.

  *

  “Have you applied for your job?” Barry asked as he held the door to their staffroom open for Louise.

  Louise sighed and nodded her head. “Have you?” she asked.

  “Yes. I just dropped it off.”

  “When do you think they will hold interviews?” Louise began unloading her bag of books and switched on her computer as she spoke. Barry, who sat at the desk beside her, was doing the same.

  “Soon, I’d say.” Barry finished his unpacking. “Good luck anyway.”

  “You, too,” said Louise.

  Louise wasn’t particularly concerned about the advertisement for the position she held, but she understood the procedure and updated her resume, addressed the selection criteria and submitted her application. When interviewed, she gave the names of her current subject co-ordinators as her referees, knowing that they would give favourable reports of her ability to teach a variety of final year subjects, set exams, provide feedback and results in a timely manner and generally contribute to the college as a reliable staff member.

  She’d also just finished the Diploma in Vocational Education and Training which was now required.

  On the day of the announcement she was once again greeted by Barry.

  “Louise,” he said. His voice was steady but his tone was grave. “Did you see who they chose for the job?”

  “No,” said Lou. “Who?”

  “Michelle.”

  Louise was confused. “Which position?”

  “There was only one in the end. They didn’t fill the other one. Michelle got it.”

  “Michelle?” Louise was confused. The only Michelle she was aware of was Michelle Hope. She, along with Barry and Louise, was a contract teacher, but Michelle only had a degree; a bachelor’s degree. She did not have a graduate degree; nor did she have any professional accounting experience whatsoever. She was not a CPA, a Chartered Accountant, nor a registered tax agent.

  “But Michelle can’t teach the degree course – you have to have a higher qualification than the one you are teaching, so she can only teach advanced diploma students and below. Who will teach the degree students?” Louise asked, confused.

  In fact, Louise knew that she was only staff member who could teach in the degree simply because no one else had the required qualifications. She was shocked to think that Michelle, barely 30 years of age and far less qualified and experienced than she, had been given the job over her.

  Barry shrugged. “You know how they are always saying that the teachers are getting too old and they need younger people. I guess they’ll offer us sessional work, but they think we are too old to get a contract.”

  “What?” Louise’s eyebrows were shooting off her face. “Too old? “I’m 50! How can I have a bachelor’s degree, a graduate degree, and be a CPA with 15 years of professional experience and still be 30? That’s ridiculous!”

  And she marched down to the manager’s office.

  “Paul,” Louise entered his office and closed the door. At any other time, Paul would not have allowed anyone to enter his office uninvited and certainly would not have allowed them to remain there. However, seeing Louise and sensing her indignation he attempted one of his “wolf in sheep’s clothing” smiles – quite a disturbing sight – and gestured to Louise to sit down.

  “Louise, I was going to request an interview with you, so I’m glad you’ve stopped by.”

  “I see you appointed Michelle to the position,” she said.

  “Yes,” Paul nodded happily, “but there will be plenty of sessional work available, as I said.”

  “So, it’s December 20th,” Louise continued, “and I just now find out that my contract, which is ending in 10 days, won’t be renewed. So, even if I was stupid enough to accept a sessional position, I would not receive a pay cheque until mid-February of next year.”

  Paul looked at her in surprise. “But we will offer you sessional work then, Louise – of course we will.”

  “No.” Louise stood. “I won’t be working as a sessional. Find someone else.” And she turned and walked out the door.

  She could hear the stunned silence as she walked purposefully to the door.

  Paul stood at his door, and made a gesture to Zoe. Zoe called after her, trying to put a laugh into her voice to lighten the mood. “Louise, wait,” she said. “We’ll have a coffee downstairs and talk about it.”

  “No time, thanks Zoe,” and Louise sailed out the door.

  *

  “What are you going to do?” Louise and Julia were sitting in Lou’s courtyard enjoying a glass of wine while Lou brought her friend up-to-date with the happenings of her day.

  “I’m going to write my memoirs,” said Louise.

  Julia laughed. But Louise stopped her. “No – really! I’ve already started a book, and I’m going to finish it.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes. I’ve always wanted to write a novel. Now’s my chance.”

  “But seriously,” Julia frowned in disbelief. “How will you pay the bills?”

  Louise shrugged. “I don’t have very many. I was taking a look at the budget last week, when Jeff emailed me his proposed divorce settlement. It will be more than enough to pay off my debts and supplement my super; and Jeff pays for all our holidays. The child support will cover our living expenses, so we are fine, thanks to Jeff!”

  “But won’t you be bored?”

  “Bored?” Louise laughed. “Just because I don’t have to scramble out of bed every morning, in time to the factory bell? No way! It’ll be lovely!” Louise put back her head and sighed to the night sky. “I’ll have time to be a real “stay-at-home mother”, as it’s now called. I’ll be able to volunteer at the schools; go to the gym; play bridge; and finish my book.”

  “I can’t see it,” said Julia.

  Louise shrugged and re-filled their glasses. “If they think for one minute that they can cheat me out of my summer holiday pay and have me back there teaching for them, they are in for a shock. Teaching young adults is one of the most stressful jobs I’ve ever had. If they take away the paid holidays, there’s no point in doing it. In fact, the holidays are essential recovery time, if you ask me!”

  “But what will they do?” Julia was puzzled. “Clearly they weren’t expecting to lose you. They’ll get you back there.”

  “No, but they will find another bunny. There are plenty of female accountants out there who have taken a couple of years off to have kids, and just want a few hours’ work a week. They’ll be drawn into it, same as me, thinking that it will lead to something. By the time they find out it doesn’t lead anywhere, they will have been teaching for a couple of years and it will be time to find someone new.”

  “I see,” Julia sipped her wine. “I’m so glad I left,” Louise smiled at her. She raised her glass and said “Here’s to my early retirement!”

  “Sure – why not?” said Julia, and clinked her friend’s glass.

  *

  “Dad’s got a girlfriend.” Camille announced this to her mother on one of their regular walks through the suburban streets around their home. Louise glanced at her daughter, who was forcing her eyes to stay focussed on the ground in front of her while still trying to look at her mother from under her lashes.

  Louise smiled to herself. “Oh, that’s nice,” she said. “What’s her name?”

  “Ruth,” answered Camille.

  “Ruth?” Louise was surprised. “Is she Asian?”

  Camille frowned. “I don’t think so,” she answered. “Why?”

  Louise shrugged. “Well, it’s an old woman’s name, Ruth. So either she is 65 –“

  “Well, Dad is 65, so maybe she is!” Camille laughed.

  “Yeah, right,” her mother laughed back. “But I’ve noticed that lots of Chinese Australians give their kids names from the previous generation – like Henry or Win
nie or Doris. Names my parent’s generation used – like Ruth. I have an Aunty Ruth. Actually, she’s my great-aunt.”

  Camille took this in but didn’t respond.

  “Or,” Louise continued, “she could be Jewish, because Ruth is an old testament name.”

  “Or she could just be your age and be named Ruth.”

  “Yes,” Lou smiled at her daughter. “That’s entirely possible.”

  “Why do you analyse everything, Mum?” Camille was teasing her.

  Louise shrugged. “I have no idea, Camille. Some people do crosswords, I suppose.” They walked in silence for a while; then Louise continued. “Or it might be because there is so much information out there, just being thrown around, and we aren’t even aware of most of it. The older I get, the more I am able to reflect on past events in my life that I didn’t fully understand at the time – or understand at all, but I can understand now.”

  “Like what?” Camille was interested.

  Louise tried to think of a situation involving Camille. “Well, you, for instance. When you started school, you couldn’t read when the other kids had all learned. In the winter holidays, July, I bought some coloured cardboard and markers and wrote out the alphabet and basic words and within 5 days, you could read.”

  Camille was still listening. Louise continued.

  “I wrongly deduced, from that experience, that you didn’t learn in a classroom environment, so we got a tutor for you, remember?”

  “Yes,” groaned Camille.

  “But what was really happening was the coloured cardboard. You couldn’t read the black print on white paper – you still can’t. It had nothing to do with the one-on-one teaching, or the classroom, and everything to do with the coloured cardboard. I was looking for a solution but because I didn’t understand the problem, I identified an irrelevant piece of data and confused it with the real answer. And it was right there, staring me in the face. I just didn’t know.”

  “So,” said Camille, “what’s that got to do with Ruth?”

  “Nothing!” laughed Lou. “But the only information I have about her is that she is a woman living in London who is clearly single, and she is probably 50ish but she has the name of a woman 30 years older than that. So, I’m making do!”

  “Do all people your age do that – analyse every little thing?”

  Louise shook her head. “No. I’m sure they don’t.”

  “You’re weird,” Camille shook her head.

  “And the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, dear daughter.”

  *

  “I’ve bought you a birthday present,” Jane had telephoned at her usual time and sounded excited. While being generous aunties, Louise and Jane did not usually exchange birthday gifts, so Louise was naturally surprised and just a bit suspicious.

  “How come?” was her ungracious response.

  But Jane was ready for her. “Well, obviously you are never going to meet anyone on your own,” she began.

  “Obviously,” Louise rolled her eyes at the phone.

  “So,” Jane continued, “I’ve bought you a seat at a Speed Dating event near you!” She was using her best marketing voice as she made her announcement.

  “What?”

  “Speed dating! You know – they did it on Kath and Kim. Kim and Sharon went and –“

  “I know what it is,” explained Louise. “How much was it?”

  “$90,” said Jane. “Now all you –“

  “$90!” Louise exclaimed. “Wow – you really are desperate, aren’t you?”

  “No, silly – YOU are the one who is desperate. I’ve got Dave.”

  “Oh, yeah, right; I’m the desperate one.”

  “Yes. Anyway, it’s next Wednesday night, so what are you going to wear?”

  “Oh my god,” Louise groaned.

  “There are 12 men and 12 women, aged between 48 and 55; and you all get to speak to one another for 8 minutes. They have categories, so I chose “University Educated Singles” for you. And you have to go because it cost me ninety bucks!” And with that, Jane hung up.

  *

  She wore a navy and white printed jersey wrap-around dress which was both conservative and feminine. The event was held in a bar in Prahran which had clearly been booked for the 2 hours it would take to speed-date 24 people. Louise walked in with what she hoped looked like cheerful defiance, and met the young women who were in charge of the evening. They both looked like super-models and were very charming. “I’ll bet the men will be sorry these girls are not among the prospective dates,” thought Louise.

  But when she saw the men, she thought that they were probably relieved. Even they must have been aware that they would not come close to matching with these strong young women. The male speed daters were either short or fat. None of them was less than 50 years old and one or two looked closer to 60 than 55. There were two men who were neither short nor fat, and appeared to be around the 50 years age group, so Louise decided to play along.

  The event began with a glass of sparkling wine and some very nice hors d’oeuvres. “Try these,” a female participant with an English accent passes Louise another plate, clearly identifying her as a hungry speedster.

  Louise smiled shamefacedly at her. “Thanks,” she said.

  “I’m Prue,” said the English girl. “Have you been to one of these before?”

  “Nope,” said Louise. “Have you?”

  “Yes,” Prue smiled. “Actually I’ve met half these men already, I think.”

  Louise raised her eyebrows and swallowed her mouthful before responding. “Really?” She looked around. “Have you dated any of them?”

  Prue grimaced and shook her head. “No!”

  “Bad luck that the same ones showed up tonight then.” Louise was thinking about the $90.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Prue. “It’s still kind of fun.”

  And she was right. It was kind of fun, Louise discovered. Not $90 worth of fun, but as she hadn’t had to pay – she didn’t need to take that into consideration. Each of the 12 men was very pleasant and complimentary. “I feel as though I am a volunteer in a male charm school rehearsal,” she thought.

  Only one – the most physically attractive one, Louise noticed; and the only one who really had been to university – was disheartened and difficult to engage.

  “So,” he asked, “Were you left or did you leave?”

  Louise checked his name tag and saw that he was Michael. “What?” she said.

  “I was the fish that John West rejected,” he explained. Michael was tall and slim and nicely dressed in grey trousers, a black blazer and open-necked white shirt. He had black hair with a smattering of grey and a boyish face. Only his demeanour was dowdy.

  But Louise was determined to find the Likeable Michael.

  “So, what did you study at uni?” she asked. It seemed like a generally acceptable topic of conversation, since they were all designated “university graduates”, and Louise smiled at Michael.

  “Law,” answered Michael gloomily. “But I’m a legal-aid lawyer – not a wealthy corporate lawyer.

  “Oh,” said Louise, sitting back slightly. “I see,” she added, thinking that Oh might have been an inadequate response but quite unable to think of another.

  Michael nodded gloomily. “You look very nice,” he said. “You probably left your husband.” Michael was warming to his topic. “Statistics show that in 85% of cases, it’s the wife who leaves the marriage if it has lasted longer than 12 years.”

  “Yes,” agreed Louise. “I read that somewhere.”

  “Doesn’t say much for us husbands, does it?”

  Louise sighed. It was just her luck that the only decent looking, professional man in the room was still depressed about his divorce. She could console him, thus enabling him to wallow in self-pity; or ditch him now and make a run for it.

  “No – oh, look – time’s up!” Louise didn’t care that she sounded relieved; and a lot perkier than she should after hearing his
tale of woe.

  “Oh,” he said, looking around. “Well, nice to-“

  “Yep, off you go! Bye!” And Louise turned to greet the next man, avoiding Michael’s mournful gaze.

  At the end of the evening, Louise made her way to the toilets and bumped into Prue. “Hi – how did you go?” she asked.

  Prue smirked. “Look, I can’t hang about, but here’s my number. Call me – we’ll get together for a drink and swap notes.”

  “Great!” Louise took the card Prue offered and put it into her bag. “See you later.”

  *

  “You what?” Jane had called to ask about the evening. “You went speed-dating and made a date with a girl?”

  “No! Well, yes, but not like that.”

  “Did you meet any guys?”

  “Yes, of course I did. I met 12 guys. You knew that.”

  “But did you get any dates?” Jane was becoming exasperated. “You know, when a woman goes out alone with a man – don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what a date is?”

  “Oh, ha ha, very funny.”

  “Well, you are the only woman I know who could go to a speed-dating night and come home with another woman’s phone number. I give up.”

  Jane had hung up before Louise could respond with a fairly meek “Me, too…”

  Chapter 30 – New beginnings

  Their home was a duplex, and the adjoining home had been let to first one family, then another, then to a group of young professional people freshly out of university and starting new jobs in the city; all wanting to live near the train. The owner rarely even sent in proxy votes to body corporate meetings.

  This townhouse shared roof guttering with Louise’s unit, and living as they did in a very leafy street, the gutters required cleaning out annually.

  “It’s no use just doing mine,” she thought. “Unless we do the whole gutter, there is no point.” So, she got the owner’s email address and sent them a note.