Together, Thea, Tiney and Mama wiped his trembling limbs with cool water. When Papa seemed less feverish, Mama covered him with a cotton sheet. Mama and Thea carried the cloths and bowls from the room. Tiney pulled a chair away from her father’s desk and sat beside his bed to keep vigil.
By the time the doctor arrived, Papa had lapsed into a rattling, restless sleep. The doctor said there was no point in taking Papa to the overcrowded hospital when he had three women to nurse him at home. He placed a quarantine order on Larksrest and instructed each of them to take every precaution to protect themselves from the disease. It killed the young and healthy even more quickly than older adults. They would know in ten days whether Papa would improve or whether his condition would worsen, if and when pneumonia took hold. Tiney went to her room and took the cotton mask that Mama had embroidered with pale blue flowers from the chest of drawers. A choking sob rose up in her chest as she tied it in place.
They divided the days into shifts where each of them took turns to sit beside Papa. They were the longest ten days of Tiney’s life. Tiney took the night shifts, determined that Papa wouldn’t be left alone for a moment. Her father had done the same for her and the story of her birth was etched so deep in family lore, she knew she owed her life to Papa.
When Tiney was born, the doctor thought there was no hope for her. She had come too early into the world, her eyes shut tight like a baby kitten, her body covered with fine dark hair. The doctor had told her parents to keep her safely at home with them until she died because surely a baby so premature couldn’t possibly survive. But Papa was stubborn. He had put Tiney in a shoebox and sat beside the stove for a month. When the nights grew cold, he would place his youngest daughter, wrapped in a soft pink wool rug, on the edge of a spade and hold her over the rising warmth from the woodstove. Slowly, over the weeks she shed her downy black hair. Papa fed her with an eyedropper to begin with and then from a tiny spoon. His patience and pigheadedness gave Tiney her life. The least she could do for him was to match his devotion all these years later.
Slowly, in small steps, Papa began to recover. He stopped his ravings, the fever abated and he lapsed into a state of quiet exhaustion.
The doctor’s bills were frightening. Bottles of Nutone Brain and Nerve Tonic cost half a crown for one single pint. It saved on buying lots of little bottles but when Papa finished the first course the doctor suggested another, so yet another half-crown had to be taken out of the household budget.
The Alstons left a care parcel on the front steps, but no one would come to the house to visit while it was officially in quarantine. Only Frank McCaffrey crossed the threshold, against advice. He would come from the Adelaide Markets, with a basket of fresh fruit over one arm and a bag full of bottles of aerated water in the other. Even though he hadn’t known Seb or Louis very well, he spoke of them with ease, as if they were old friends. When the screen door broke in a high wind, Frank came with his toolbag and repaired it.
Then, on a bright July morning, when Papa was sitting up in bed and Tiney arranging a vase of jonquils to cheer his room, they heard the doorbell ring and Frank’s voice in the hall. Thea called for Tiney to join them in the breakfast room. Tiney kissed Papa on the forehead and promised she would be back in a minute.
Frank was sitting at the end of the table, his hat on a chair while Mama and Thea sat either side of him. For a moment, Tiney’s heart leapt. Frank had something to say to her, something terribly important. But surely he should ask her in private? Then she saw the letter: a single page spread out on the table in front of Frank. He laid his palm on the smooth lavender-coloured sheet. ‘I’ve found Minna,’ he said.
Peace Day, 1919
Tiney watched Frank as he slept, his head propped up on a folded coat. When he had announced that he and Thea were going to Melbourne to find Minna and bring her home, something inside Tiney broke. She felt it snap as she suddenly realised she had misunderstood something very deep about the nature of their friendship. It was an added humiliation that she had to beg to be included in the search party. She stared out into the darkened countryside as the South Australian landscape sped past. The long nights of nursing Papa had made it hard for her to sleep and it was only as dawn light crept across the bush that she finally nodded off.
‘We’re here,’ said Frank, touching Tiney gently on the shoulder to rouse her. Tiney rubbed the back of her neck, stiff from sleeping upright. Her cheek felt cold and numb where it had pressed against the train window. She stared at the grubby railway yards, the miles of tracks and ugly black and brown stones, and the smog of a real city. ‘Where should we begin?’ she asked.
‘First we’ve got to get you two settled in,’ said Frank. He picked up Tiney’s small suitcase and Thea’s easel. Tiney and Thea followed him along the platform and out into Spencer Street.
They caught a tram up Collins Street, past elegant shops and leafless winter elms. Even though it was still early, the streets were bustling. Buildings were decked with flags and coloured streamers and people were setting up chairs on rooftops and balconies. Red, white and blue bunting was splashed across shopfronts. Banners bearing the names of all the principal battles fought and won by Australian troops were stretched across the streets. Bands warmed up on street corners and people broke into patriotic song. Tiney wondered how they could possibly find Minna in a city so crowded.
Through friends at the Society of Arts, Thea had organised a room for them in a boarding house in East Melbourne.
‘You get yourself freshened up,’ said Frank, ‘and we’ll walk back into the city. Almost everything will be shut for the parade but I’ve arranged to meet a lady at the Theosophical Society. I know Minna’s been to at least one of their meetings. They should be able to give us a lead.’
Upstairs in their room, Tiney looked out the window to watch Frank waiting patiently for them in the morning sunshine.
‘I still don’t understand why Minna wrote to Frank and not to us,’ said Tiney. ‘If one of the reasons she ran away was to escape George’s attention, surely she wouldn’t want to write to his brother.’
‘Everyone trusts Frank,’ said Thea as she filled the china basin on the dresser and began to wash her face.
‘She could trust us, too!’ said Tiney.
‘Could she, Tiney?’ said Thea. ‘Could she trust you?’
Tiney hung her head. Thea had discovered that Seb had submitted her work for the Society of Arts prize the day he died and that some of her drawings were found among his things. She’d quietly withdrawn the work from the competition. Tiney had apologised, had tried to explain, but a chill had settled over their relationship.
‘We should have quizzed Tilda Constance-Higgens right from the start!’ said Tiney, hoping to turn the conversation in a different direction.
‘We already know she left with Minna. Mama spoke with Mrs Constance-Higgens. She simply didn’t tell you.’
Tiney felt stung to the core. ‘Why not?’
‘Because you might tell someone or take it on yourself to go and find Minna on your own,’ said Thea. ‘It’s not up to you to fix everything in our family.’
Tiney walked disconsolately behind Thea and Frank as they wove their way down Bourke Street, constantly jostled by people gathering for the Peace Day parade. Outside the Theosophical Society headquarters, Frank stopped and turned his gaze skywards. Tiney was struck by how handsome he looked with the sun making his red hair glow.
‘There are six planes up there,’ said Frank, pointing. ‘Looks like they’re going to do some nosedives over the city.’
‘I’m sorry we’re missing the Adelaide parade,’ said Tiney.
‘For a strike-stricken city, Melbourne’s not doing too badly with their Peace Day festivities. We’ll make sure you get an eyeful of the fun tonight,’ he said, ‘whether we find Minna or not.’
‘Maybe we’ll find her. Maybe we’ll be able to really celebrate,’ said Tiney as she mounted the stairs to the Theosophical Society.
&nb
sp; Inside, they found a small woman in glasses sitting behind a typewriter. Thea and Tiney explained that they were searching for their sister and asked if she had attended any events at the Theosophical Society. The secretary drew a leather-bound book from a drawer and scanned through lists of names, but Minna wasn’t there. Tiney noticed one name that was easy to recognise, even upside down.
‘Tilda Constance-Higgens,’ said Tiney. ‘We know her. She’s a friend of ours from Adelaide. Can you tell us how we can get in contact with her?’
‘We don’t have her current address but I believe she does tarot readings at The Esplanade in St Kilda. She’s there on Saturdays.’
Tiney turned to Frank and Thea and smiled.
The tram crossed over the Yarra River and rattled along St Kilda Road, past grand buildings with towers and turrets and an old bluestone barracks where soldiers were gathering for the parade. They climbed down from the tram in Fitzroy Street as a cold gust of air swept up from the bay. Thea stood transfixed by the glittering sea.
Inside the wide foyer of the hotel, potted palms lined the walls and in the far corner, a palm court orchestra was playing.
Frank made enquiries about Tilda but the waiter he spoke with shook his head. Then Tiney interrupted. ‘I’d like my fortune told. I believe someone here can help me.’
‘Not strictly legal, is it?’ said the waiter. But he led them to the back of the foyer. Sitting in a booth, partially shielded by a red curtain, was Tilda Constance-Higgens.
She smiled, not the least surprised by her visitors. ‘The cards predicted I’d have interesting clients today.’ She gestured for the three of them to sit down.
‘Then you know why we’re here,’ said Frank.
‘And you are Frank McCaffrey,’ said Tilda.
‘No prizes for guessing that if you’ve been speaking with Minna. Not many Adelaide diggers with red hair who’d be chaperoning the Flynn girls.’
Tilda smiled, a cat-like smirk that annoyed Tiney.
‘I have no idea where Minna is,’ said Tilda.
‘But you came to Melbourne with her,’ said Tiney. ‘You must have some idea where we could start looking.’
‘I came to Melbourne to help lost souls,’ said Tilda. ‘I can help you too, Tiney Flynn. Let me cast your tarot.’
‘Tilda, I don’t want my fortune told. I want to find my sister!’ Tiney was conscious of being too loud in her frustration.
The red curtain was drawn back. ‘Everything all right here, Miss Constance-Higgens?’ asked the waiter.
Tilda nodded and handed Tiney the tarot cards. ‘Hold your question in your mind, Tiney, while you shuffle the cards and then cut the pack.’
Tiney glanced up at the waiter and then at Thea and Frank.
‘It can’t hurt,’ said Thea.
Tiney cut the deck and handed it back to Tilda, who drew seven cards from the top of the pack and laid them out in the shape of a horseshoe. She pointed to the first card. ‘The Devil reveals an imprudent undertaking. This card is the past, not the future.’
Tilda pointed to the second card. ‘The Seven of Swords – lies, rumours, unkind criticism, an unlucky gambler. This is the present moment, a caution about whom you criticise.’ She looked sharply at Tiney and Tiney blushed.
‘The Magician – he seeks answers and indicates that you may find what you are looking for. This card augurs well for your quest. The fourth card is the Female Pope but she is reversed, which means you mustn’t trust your intuition. Three of Pentacles, reversed, your fifth card, indicates your companions are not reliable.’
At this, Frank snorted with irritation. ‘Do we have to go on with this?’
‘As I said, your companions are not reliable,’ said Tilda. ‘They may betray you. But they are not the obstacles. The seventh card shows The Tower – meaning that violent change lies between you and your fate. This is the most dangerous card in the whole tarot. But your last card, Death, this is a good sign.’
‘How can that be a good sign?’ asked Tiney.
‘Because it means rebirth. Not an end but a new beginning, for the person you seek and for you as well.’
Thea leaned forward across the table. ‘Tilda, why are you being so obstructive?’ She picked up the card with the Female Pope on it and reversed it in front of Tilda. ‘Lack of foresight – that’s what she means reversed, doesn’t she? I think you show a particular lack of foresight if you won’t tell us what you know about Minna.’
Tilda swept the cards off the velvet tablecloth and put them into a small drawstring bag. ‘I will never betray her.’
Tiney leaned across the table and grasped Tilda’s hands. ‘We are her family, Tilda,’ she said with urgency. ‘We love her and we want to help her.’
Tilda smiled into Tiney’s eyes for a long moment, as if she found Tiney terribly amusing. Tiney wanted to slap her but instead she let go of Tilda’s hands and stood up abruptly.
‘Let’s go,’ said Tiney, pushing aside the velvet curtain.
The palm court orchestra was playing ‘Your Eyes are the Light of my World’ with a clarinet soloing the melody. ‘That was Minna’s favourite,’ said Frank.
Instantly they all looked towards the stage.
‘It’s Minna!’ said Tiney.
‘Wait until she’s finished her set,’ said Thea, holding Tiney firmly by the arm. They stood watching, their throats dry with anxiety, until the song was at an end. Frank was the first to race across the dance floor, colliding with a waiter and sending a tray of teacups flying. There was a hurried exchange of angry words. By the time all three of them had reached the stage, Minna had disappeared.
‘She must have seen you,’ said Tiney. ‘But why would she run away from you? It’s George she’s scared of. Is there something you haven’t told us?’
Frank sat down on a chair and put his head in his hands.
‘We’re engaged,’ said Frank, in a flat monotone. ‘But when George found out, he threatened to kill me. Kill us both. So Minna bolted.’
Thea and Tiney looked at each other, astonished.
‘That’s why she wrote to me. To let me know she was safe.’
‘But she didn’t write to us!’ said Tiney, suddenly angry. And there was something else, some other emotion so painful stirring in her that she couldn’t give voice to it.
‘I wanted to tell her to contact you, but she didn’t send a return address. I wanted to tell her that I’ve sorted things with George. He’s not right, George. He’ll never be right but I found him work up north and he won’t bother us. If Minna would only let me explain, everything would be fine.’
Tiney wanted to shout at him, ‘Nothing will ever be fine ever again!’ But she turned away and stared blankly at the waiter gathering up the shards of broken teacups.
Thea went straight to the bandleader and started asking questions in her quiet, direct manner. Five minutes later, she came back to tell them that Minna was now Minnie La Rue. The bandmaster didn’t know where she lived, but he said she also played with the Tivoli Orchestra. ‘She’ll be there tonight,’ said Thea. ‘He says they’re doing a special show for the Peace Day celebrations.’
They walked down Fitzroy Street to the sea front and Frank bought a parcel of fish and chips for them to share, but Tiney had lost her appetite. She wanted to love being there with Frank, sitting beside him, looking out over the bay, but everything had changed.
It was growing dark by the time they caught the tram back to the city but several blocks short of Flinders Street Station the tram came to a stop and the conductor leaned out the open door to see what was going on.
‘Crikey!’ he shouted. ‘There’s a great mob out there and they’ve derailed the tram up ahead.’
Frank, Thea and Tiney and all the other passengers disembarked. The air was full of the shouts of men. Outside the Victoria Barracks, returned sailors and servicemen were shouting and jostling each other, surging towards the bluestone entrance. Police officers with batons marched towards the angry mob. F
rank put an arm around each of the girls, trying to shelter them as they struggled through the crowd. Within minutes of making their way onto Princes Bridge, they heard gunshots, screaming and the noise of battle.
‘We better get off the streets,’ said Frank. ‘If we can make it to the Tivoli and buy tickets, we’ll be right.’
But as they walked up Swanston Street, they realised nothing in Melbourne was right. The Peace Day bunting and decorations had been torn down. Plate-glass shop windows were smashed. The band on the balcony of the Town Hall played on, but could hardly be heard; fights were breaking out between men with bottles and police wielding batons, and the screams of women and children filled the air.
Frank herded Tiney and Thea into a doorway as a volley of projectiles – bottles, rocks and even a wheel torn from a baby carriage – flew in their direction.
‘What’s happened?’ asked Tiney.
‘The diggers are angry, disappointed,’ said Frank.
‘But there was just a grand parade in their honour!’ said Tiney.
‘Parades aren’t worth much if you can’t find work or a place to live,’ said Frank. ‘The men are bitter about what’s happened since they came home.’
‘But this is madness, Frank!’ said Tiney.
‘I’m not arguing with you.’
They turned the corner into Collins Street to reach the Tivoli Theatre. Tiney saw a young man, not much older than she was, raising a bottle to throw at a police officer.
‘Stop!’ she cried. The young man looked surprised, and lowered his arm to stare at her. ‘This isn’t the way,’ she said, breaking away from Frank and Thea. ‘This isn’t going to help find you work or help us rebuild the country!’
The man seemed momentarily contrite but then an older woman came out of the darkness and shouted, ‘Don’t listen to the likes of them, lad. You fight for your rights.’
The young man dashed after the policeman and set upon him with his fists. Frank grabbed Tiney’s hand and dragged her up the steps of the Tivoli. For a split second Tiney thought they had found safety. Instead, they found the ticket-seller weeping inside her booth. There were no ushers and the foyer had an air of disarray. From inside the theatre they could hear shouts and jeering.
The Year It All Ended Page 11
