by Judy Nunn
‘Thanks, Violet, I’m glad you did. Just as well to be prepared. I’ll see you at home.’
‘But Auntie Maureen …’
‘I have to go now, dear. Don’t you worry. Everything’ll be fine. Bye.’
Violet returned to work, confused. Her future was at stake and everyone was telling her not to worry, that everything’d be fine.
Maureen was thoughtful as she replaced the receiver. Cam wouldn’t come to the hospital, she knew that much. If he was going to confront her, as she was sure he would, he wouldn’t risk causing a scene in front of others, he wouldn’t want to be caught out. But it was odd that he’d appeared not to take the situation seriously. Cam Campbell would be livid at the mere thought of his daughter going out with an Italian.
Maureen knew that, for all his pretence of egalitarianism, her brother had a different set of values when it came to his family. In fact, when it came to his family, Cam was a man of strict convention. He saw himself as the patriarch. It was Cam who made the rules in the Campbell family, and woe betide anyone who bucked them. Maureen had bucked all the rules when she’d left the land for a career in the city – it had been against the Campbell tradition. Campbell women worked like men until they were of a marriageable age, then they wed local farmers or graziers and bore them children to take over the property. But Maureen had married a businessman at the age of twenty-three, and she’d paid the price when she’d come home two decades later.
‘That’s what you get for marrying a city slicker,’ her brother had gloated. ‘No loyalty.’
‘Andy and I loved each other and we still do, Cam. We had a good twenty years together, there are no regrets.’ Her reply had been delivered with composure; even as a child, she had never let him rattle her. She was two years his senior and she’d always played the older sister with a superiority that she knew infuriated him.
‘Oh come off it, Maureen, how can you defend the bastard? He dumped you for a younger sheila, why don’t you admit the truth?’
She’d hated him at that moment, even though she’d known he was angry on her behalf. ‘The truth?’ she’d replied coldly. ‘Andy wants children. He’s always wanted children, I could never give them to him, and now she can. That’s the truth, Cam.’
It hadn’t been the truth at all, but Maureen would never admit to the hurt she felt, not even to Andy, with whom she’d parted on amicable terms, and certainly not to her dictatorial brother.
She and Cam had had a row that night when she’d told him she was not coming back to the property. He hadn’t been able to comprehend her preference for long hours at the hospital and a modest house in town. He’d called her disloyal and accused her of having no sense of family, but Maureen had refused to budge in her decision.
They’d eventually called a truce further down the track when she’d offered to have Violet come and live with her. Cam had been grateful, albeit begrudgingly. It wouldn’t be for long, he’d said. It was just some passing whim of Vi’s, she’d be back home in a few months, he was sure. But, despite his gratitude, he still hadn’t been able to resist laying down the law.
‘Don’t you go giving her any fancy ideas, Maureen,’ he’d warned. ‘Vi’s not like you; she belongs on the land.’
Maureen had refused to be dictated to. ‘She’ll make up her own mind, Cam,’ she’d said, but secretly, she’d agreed with her brother. Young Vi was not like her. The girl had no ambition and Maureen had been certain that she would return home within the year. In true Campbell tradition Violet would marry a local and produce an heir, just as she was destined to do.
It now appeared that both she and Cam had been wrong, Maureen thought as she left the reception desk and returned to the wards. The relationship between Violet and young Pietro could no longer be dismissed as a young girl’s romantic illusion. Was that why Cam had not taken his daughter seriously? Well, he’d better start doing so, she thought. Whether or not the girl genuinely wished to marry was beside the point; she was on the verge of sleeping with the Italian. And Maureen would have to tell her brother that. She didn’t relish the prospect.
At the end of her shift, she changed from her uniform into her comfortable trousers and shirt; it was spring, the weather was fine and she’d walked to the hospital. She set off briskly, enjoying her twenty-minute constitutional, and as she finally strode up the hill towards the cottage she was pleasantly out of breath.
She recognised the ute parked in the street, and slowed her pace. He was sitting on the front steps, leaning against the small white picket fence of the front verandah.
‘G’day, Maureen,’ he said, but he didn’t smile.
‘Hello, Cam.’
He rose as she walked to meet him. ‘We’ve got some talking to do.’
‘Yes, I know. Come on in.’
She opened the front door, which wasn’t locked, and he followed her inside.
‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ she asked, leading the way into the kitchen.
‘No, I bloody well don’t.’
So it was going to be like that, she thought. It was pretty much what she’d expected. Cam’s belligerence could be quite intimidating, and his anger even frightening, but Maureen refused to be daunted.
‘You won’t mind if I have one then?’ She busied herself filling the kettle.
Her imperturbability irritated him. ‘What the hell’s been going on behind my back?’
‘Your daughter’s been falling in love. All proper and above board, I hasten to add.’ She put the kettle on the stove. ‘She’s eighteen, Cam, it’s quite normal.’
‘And you knew he was a Dago, right?’
He was showing his true colours right from the start, she thought, and the sneer in his voice annoyed her.
‘Yes, I’ve met him a number of times. He’s a very nice young man.’
She knew she shouldn’t have sounded so arch – it was a red rag to a bull – but she hadn’t been able to help herself. His fist hit the table.
‘Jesus Christ, woman,’ he yelled, his face flushed with anger, ‘what the hell are you playing at?’
Maureen didn’t light the gas stove; she decided to forget about the tea. ‘Calm down, Cam,’ she said, crossing to the table. ‘It won’t serve anyone’s purpose if you lose your temper.’
He had no intention of calming down. ‘What do you think you’re doing, encouraging my daughter? How dare you interfere.’
‘In what way have I interfered?’
But he wasn’t listening. ‘You gave up any rights in this family years ago when you pissed off to Sydney. I won’t have you disrupting Vi’s life with your smartarse liberated ideas. I don’t give a shit if the Dago’s a nice young man, do you hear? He’s not coming anywhere near my daughter!’
He was prowling around the kitchen now, and she wished he’d sit down so they could discuss the whole thing in a civilised fashion. She wanted to sit herself, it had been a long day, but she didn’t. She said nothing, leaning against the table instead, waiting for him to get it out of his system.
‘Jesus, Maureen, I don’t understand you,’ he went on. ‘Vi’s just a kid, she listens to you, she admires you, she drinks in every bloody word you say. How could you encourage this bullshit?’
His sister’s silence was having its effect. Cam was running out of steam.
‘Christ, you’re an intelligent woman. Can’t you see that’s all it is? She doesn’t want to marry him. It’s romantic bullshit. It’s all in her head.’
‘Yes, that’s what I thought to start with.’ She hoped he was calm enough to talk sense now, and she sat. ‘But it’s not in her head any longer, Cam. Sit down. Please.’
He sat. And Maureen wondered how to address the true issue without her brother once again exploding.
‘When Violet first started seeing Pietro, I was sure it wouldn’t last.’ She noticed the flicker in his eyes at the mention of Pietro’s name. This wasn’t going to be easy, she thought. ‘She told me he reminded her of an Italian movie star, and, like you,
I thought it was just a romantic fantasy on Violet’s part.’
Cam forced himself to stay silent, but his sister wasn’t winning any points. She should have pissed the Dago off right from the start, he thought.
‘And I agree with you,’ Maureen continued slowly, trying to find the right words, ‘I’m not altogether sure that she really wants to marry him. Not yet anyway …’
Jesus Christ, he thought, whose case was she arguing, his daughter’s or the Dago’s? The girl hadn’t slept with the bastard, and if she didn’t want to marry him, then where was the problem? Why was she wasting her breath talking about the bloody Dago?
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ she added, ‘I’m convinced that she loves him …’
Outside, Violet walked up the steps to the back verandah. Mr Halliday had been very understanding when she’d asked if she could leave early.
‘You go along, Vi,’ he’d said; she rarely asked for favours. ‘You get home early and make your dad’s tea.’ That had been the excuse she’d used, even though she wasn’t sure if her dad was coming to tea.
As she’d approached the house, she’d seen her father’s utility parked out the front, and she’d known the two of them would be inside, talking about her. It hadn’t been her deliberate intention to eavesdrop as she’d walked around to the back of the cottage. She often entered via the verandah, freshening up in her room before going inside. But this time she didn’t go to her room, and as she opened the back door, she did so quietly.
‘… in fact I’m sure that she loves him very much,’ Maureen said.
Violet heard her aunt’s voice quite clearly through the flywire screen, and she hovered by the doorway only several yards from them, out of sight but within easy earshot. She felt guilty to be eavesdropping, but glad that Auntie Maureen was so openly pleading her case.
‘… and I know that Pietro loves her, and that he genuinely wants to marry her …’
If she mentioned the Dago’s name once more he’d hit her, Cam thought. Whose bloody side was the woman on?
‘… but I think the prospect of marriage frightens Violet,’ Maureen said.
‘Of course it does!’ He finally exploded. ‘She’s a kid, for Christ’s sake!’
‘No, that’s just it, she’s not!’ Dear God, she’d have to spell it out, Maureen thought; she’d been trying to edge around the subject tactfully. ‘She’s a woman, Cam. And she’s in love! Don’t you understand what I’m saying?’
He was halted in his tracks. What was she inferring? Had his daughter lied?
‘Vi told me they weren’t sleeping together,’ he said, his voice menacingly quiet.
‘They’re not. Not yet. But only because Pietro wants to wait until they’re married.’
That was it! He jumped to his feet. ‘I don’t give a shit what the bloody Dago wants, you stupid woman!’ he yelled. ‘He’s not getting my daughter!’
‘She’ll sleep with him anyway, Cam!’ Maureen hadn’t wanted to raise her voice, but it seemed the only way to get through to him.
It worked. He stared at her, taken aback.
‘This isn’t just one of Violet’s romantic fantasies, it’s gone much further than that,’ she continued. ‘She’s in love with the boy and she’s going to sleep with him whether you like it or not. You have to give your permission for them to marry.’
‘Over my dead body,’ he snarled.
She stood, exasperated. ‘Your daughter’s on the verge of losing her virginity, Cam, and there’s nothing you, or anyone else, can do about it.’
‘Oh isn’t there just? I can kill the fucking Dago, that’s what I can do.’
‘And what good would that do?’ Her frustration was getting the better of her; it was becoming a slanging match. ‘What if the next boy she falls in love with doesn’t want to marry her? Would you prefer to see her run off with some buck to a cheap motel? Because that’s what she’ll do. If it’s not Pietro, then it’ll be some other young stud …’
His open hand lashed out and struck her hard across the cheek. She staggered off-balance, then recovered herself, and there was a moment’s silence, brother and sister staring at each other, both shocked by his action.
‘You tell the Dago to keep away from my daughter,’ he said finally. ‘And you tell my daughter if she sleeps with him I’ll disown her.’
She watched wordlessly as he walked to the door.
‘I didn’t mean to hit you,’ he said without turning back.
Violet heard her father’s footsteps walking away, and then the sound of the front door closing. She stood in silent dismay as her world crashed around her. Her father’s blatant bigotry had horrified her. He’d been her hero all of her life, but he was a fraud and a hypocrite. She’d been horrified, too, when she’d heard him strike his sister. But it had been her aunt’s words that had cut Violet most deeply, and the tears welled as she stood staring unseeingly at the flywire door.
Was that really what Maureen thought of her? But yesterday, when she’d told Maureen that she loved Pietro, they had shared an understanding. Or at least she’d thought that they had. She’d thought they’d shared a special moment, as only women could. Like the moment she’d shared with Peggy Minchin in the restaurant. Just a look, when each knew what the other was thinking. But she’d been wrong. There’d been no shared understanding. Maureen considered her a shallow, empty-headed girl bent on losing her virginity; a girl who would run off with some buck to a cheap motel.
The tears slowly coursed their way down Violet’s cheeks. Maureen was wrong, she thought. She wasn’t like that at all. She wanted to lose her virginity, yes, but she wasn’t using Pietro in order to do so. Maureen thought that she was, and Maureen was clever, but it wasn’t like that, Violet told herself. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t believe it.
‘Violet.’
Maureen was appalled when she stepped out onto the verandah to discover Violet standing motionless, crying silent tears.
‘Come inside, dear. I’ll get us a cup of tea.’ The girl had heard, Maureen thought guiltily.
Violet, unprotesting, allowed herself to be ushered into the kitchen where she sat at the table and, while her aunt lit the gas stove, she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. She didn’t want to cry in front of Maureen.
‘Violet …’ Maureen set the teacups out on the table and sat opposite the girl, not sure what to say, but about to start with an apology. Violet, however, got in first.
‘I know you think I’m stupid,’ she said quietly, studying her teacup, avoiding Maureen’s eyes. ‘And you’re probably right. I’m not clever like you, I never will be …’
Her aunt was about to interject.
‘… but I know when I’m in love,’ Violet continued. ‘And I’m in love with Pietro.’ She redirected her eyes from her teacup to her aunt, and her look was candid. ‘You’re right, I want to sleep with him, but it’s more than that. I love him.’
The girl had made the same declaration just yesterday. ‘I love him,’ Violet had said, and Maureen had found the girl’s sexuality alarming, like an electrical pulse sending messages through the air. She’d chastised herself for not having registered the warnings earlier. It was a common case with late developers like Violet – hormones suddenly ran wild. The girl was aching to lose her virginity, she’d thought, and she’d looked no further than that.
But things were not that simple, she now realised, as Violet’s eyes met hers with a candour and maturity Maureen had not seen there before.
‘I know you think I’m empty-headed and romantic,’ Violet said directly and without any form of accusation, ‘but you see, Maureen, I believe in romance.’
The use of her Christian name without the ‘auntie’ title was strangely affecting, and Maureen felt riddled with guilt for having hurt the girl as deeply as she plainly had.
‘I believe that romance and love are the same thing,’ Violet said. ‘They are for me. I don’t want to sleep with Pietro just to lose my virginity.’ Her lip tremble
d slightly, her composure was starting to crack. ‘And I wouldn’t run away with some buck to a cheap motel.’
Maureen was mortified, at a loss for words. But Violet stemmed the tears that threatened. She took a deep breath, regained her dignity, and continued.
‘You think my romantic view of the world is shallow, and perhaps it is. But it doesn’t mean that my love is shallow. I just look at things a different way from you. I like romance in my life, and you don’t.’
It was a simple statement, and it was true, Maureen thought. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d experienced even the slightest sense of romance. Passion, yes, in the early days with Andy. She’d slept with him before they were married, she’d been the one to instigate it. And she’d experienced love. She’d loved Andy deeply, she still did, they’d been partners and soul mates. But romance? She’d had no time for romance, her life had been governed by practicality and commonsense for as long as she could remember.
‘I will marry Pietro,’ Violet said. ‘I want to. I was frightened before, but I’m not any more, Dad’s helped me make up my mind.’ A rebellious edge crept into her voice. ‘I’ll marry Pietro whether Dad likes it or not.’
Maureen hoped Violet wasn’t marrying Pietro simply to spite her father, but she quelled the voice of reason. She was being over-practical again, she warned herself, now was not the time.
‘Your dad’s not a bad man, you know, Violet,’ she said.
‘Yes he is.’ The girl’s tone was more than rebellious now, it was hard. ‘Dad’s a hypocrite.’
‘Only where his family’s concerned. He thinks he’s being protective.’
‘And he hit you.’
‘Yes,’ Maureen admitted, ‘but he did it because I was saying things about you he didn’t want to hear. I think he frightened himself more than me.’
‘You’re very forgiving, Maureen.’ Violet wasn’t. She could still hear her father’s voice: I can kill the fucking Dago, that’s what I can do. She’d never forgive him for that.
