24
‘For Christ’s sake, Edna, shut that child up,’ growled Gerald Waters as he accelerated away from Laurel Farm. The spinning car wheels threw up a cloud of dust as they sped down the dirt track leading to Carrabunna and the main Sydney road beyond.
‘Hush now, Rosie,’ Edna said as she struggled to hold the child squirming in her arms. ‘Be quiet, dear, you don’t want to upset Daddy now, do you?’
But Rosie, crimson-faced and her cheeks wet with tears, didn’t stop, couldn’t stop and went on bawling, ‘I don’t want you! I don’t want you! Go away! I want Reet. Where’s Reet?’
‘Come along now, Rosie,’ Edna tried again. ‘Calm down, there’s a good girl.’
Rosie didn’t calm down and once they had passed through Carrabunna Gerald suddenly slammed on the brakes and the car screeched to a halt. Without a word he got out, opened the back door and reaching in, dragged the little girl from her new mother’s arms. He pulled her clear of the car and then, shouting ‘Shut up! Shut up! You hear me?’ he shook her, hard and long till her head flopped and the screaming stopped.
‘That’s more like it,’ he snarled. ‘Now you listen to me, young lady. I’ll have no more of that disgraceful noise, understand? Start that row again and you’ll get a hiding.’ Then he thrust Rosie back into the car and slammed the door behind her. Edna gathered the shaking child into her arms and held her tight, crooning softly to her and stroking her hair.
Rosie’s screams had stopped, but heaving sobs still shook her body as she buried her hot, damp face into Edna’s neck.
Exhausted by the events of the morning and lulled by the motion of the car, Rosie finally fell asleep, only waking again when the car stopped outside a roadside café. She opened her eyes, for a moment forgetting where she was, and then she saw the frightening man getting out of the car, and she shrank back against Edna’s shoulder again.
As he opened the back door of the car, Edna said, ‘Look, Gerald, you’ve terrified the poor child!’
‘Well, she needs to learn to do as she’s told,’ he muttered. Then he held out his hand and twisting his mouth into a smile, said, ‘Come along now, Rose. You must be hungry, let’s find something to eat.’
‘Out you get, Rosie,’ encouraged Edna. ‘I expect you’re hungry, and we’re going to have some eggs and bacon and sausages now.’
Once out of the car, Edna took Rosie’s hand and they went into the café. The promised food appeared on the table and Edna helped Rosie cut up her food saying, ‘If you eat all that like a good girl, you can have some ice cream after. Would you like that?’ When Rosie didn’t answer Edna went on, ‘You like ice cream, don’t you?’
Rosie nodded.
‘I thought you did,’ Edna said. ‘Eat up then.’ She turned to Gerald who was just finishing, wiping round his plate with a piece of bread. ‘Will you order up the ice cream, Daddy?’
‘Ice cream for our little girl, coming up,’ he cried, jovial now that Rosie was behaving herself, and he waved to the woman at the counter to bring them each a bowl of ice cream.
Somewhere in the back of her mind Rosie could hear Rita’s voice saying, ‘He’s not my dad,’ but looking across at the frightening face of the man opposite, she said nothing and went on eating her sausages. They were nice, and she did want ice cream.
‘Thank you, Daddy,’ Edna enthused when the dessert came. She beamed at Rosie. ‘Aren’t you a lucky girl to have such a kind daddy?’
They finally reached Fryford, where the Waters lived, in the late afternoon. Their house was in a quiet street, one of a row of villas. There was a window on either side of the front door and another perched above it under a shingled gable. Mr Waters drew into the kerb and switched off the engine.
‘Here we are,’ he said, ‘home at last.’
Edna took Rosie into the house. ‘This is where we live, Rosie,’ she said. ‘This is your home now. Isn’t it nice? Look, we’ve got a yard out the back where you can play. Now come upstairs and I’ll show you your bedroom.’ She led the way up a narrow staircase to the floor above where there were two bedrooms. The one at the front looked out through the gabled window onto the street below, while the one at the back, much smaller, had a little window looking out across the single storey scullery roof below and onto the small square of garden beyond.
‘Here we are,’ Edna said brightly, leading Rosie into the tiny bedroom. ‘This is your room.’ She went to the window and drawing aside the flimsy curtains, threw it open. ‘Isn’t it nice?’
Rosie stood by the door and stared into the room. A wooden bed stood along one wall, a chest of drawers topped with a bowl and jug stood against another, and there was a small chair in the corner. Though the room was hot and stuffy, it was stark and unwelcoming.
‘I wish Reet was here,’ Rosie said, her lip beginning to tremble again as she looked at the cold hard bed where she must sleep alone. ‘I want Reet.’
‘Well, you can’t have her,’ said a sharp voice behind her. Gerald had come upstairs carrying her small suitcase. ‘You must forget her. You live with us now.’
That night Rosie lay in bed in her new bedroom and with her face under the pillow, cried herself to sleep. She was entirely alone, no Rita, no Daisy, not even Knitty to cuddle as exhaustion overtook her and she finally fell asleep.
Next morning she was given breakfast and then the three of them walked to the nearby church. The only thing suitable to wear was the rose-patterned dress, and so Rosie was dressed in that.
‘Tomorrow,’ Edna promised her, ‘we’ll go shopping you and I. We’ll get you some decent clothes, not something made out of curtains.’
Church was boring, but Rosie was used to that. Numerous Sundays spent in church since she’d been taken from Ship Street had taught her to sit still and quiet however bored she was, until it was over and they could emerge into the sunshine again. Outside the church she found herself the centre of attention. People came up to the Waters, smiling and nodding.
‘Is this the little girl you’re adopting?’
‘What a generous thing to do, taking a child like this from an orphanage!’
‘What a pretty little girl, such lovely fair hair.’
Edna had spent some time brushing Rosie’s hair and had tied it back off her face with a ribbon. Rosie liked the ribbon, and she liked people saying she was pretty, so she smiled at the lady who was reaching out to touch her curls.
‘What a lovely smile,’ said the lady. ‘Aren’t you a lucky girl to have been chosen by these kind people.’
The minister was standing by the door, and he came over and shook Gerald by the hand. ‘Well done, Mr Waters,’ he said. ‘A truly charitable act.’ He reached down and chucked Rosie under the chin. ‘And what’s your name, little girl?’
‘Rosie,’ she whispered shyly.
‘Well, Rosie, I hope you’re truly grateful for the kindness of your new parents.’
The next few days passed in a whirl. Edna took Rosie on the promised shopping trip, and the little chest of drawers soon held new underclothes, a blouse and skirt, a dress and a cardigan. She was fitted with new shoes, worn over new white socks. Her rose-patterned dress, though still wearable, was pushed to the bottom of a drawer, the last remnant of her previous life.
One evening Gerald came home carrying a small teddy bear which he pushed into her arms, saying gruffly, ‘Thought you might like to have this.’ Rosie hugged it to her, and from then on every night she fell asleep with the bear, named Bear, tucked under her arm, just as Knitty had been.
The Waters insisted that she call them Mummy and Daddy; if she didn’t, they appeared not to have heard her, and she soon learned that her life was easier if she did what she was told. Rosie had never liked being in trouble, and without Rita to protect her she simply accepted what was happening.
‘I always wanted a daughter called Jean,’ Edna told her one day, ‘so Daddy and I have decided that’s what we’ll call you from now on.’
Rosie looked confused. �
�I’m called Rosie.’
‘No, darling, you were called Rosie, but now you’re called Jean.’
She was enrolled at her new school as Jean Waters, and so everyone there called her Jean. At first, often, she didn’t realize she was being spoken to, and was scolded for not answering, but in time she got used to being Jean, and the name Rosie, like the rose-patterned dress, was consigned to her past life and almost forgotten.
‘Please will you remember that Jean has been adopted?’ Edna said to the principal on her first morning. ‘Everything here is a bit new to her. I’ll bring her to and from school just until she’s used to it all.’
Rosie liked her new school. She liked her teacher, Miss Hughes. She liked Edna, but she was still afraid of Gerald. He had a way of grabbing her from behind and crushing her against him that she found frightening. She’d struggle to pull free and he’d hold on even more tightly saying, ‘What, not got a cuddle for your dad?’ He laughed as he said it, but she hated the way he held her and nuzzled the back of her neck with his moustache. Mummy laughed too, and said, ‘How Daddy loves his little girl!’
Rosie settled in at school quite quickly. Always eager to please, she did as she was told and behaved herself well in the classroom. The first sign of trouble came, however, a few months after she arrived. The children were asked to tell the class about their families. Each child stood up and spoke for a minute or two, telling of mums and dads, brothers and sisters, family pets. Miss Hughes left Rosie till last, because she was aware that Rosie had only recently been adopted and didn’t have a family to talk about. When it finally came to be Rosie’s turn, she said gently, ‘Now then, Jean, can you tell us about your family, you’ve got a new mummy and daddy, I think, haven’t you? But no brothers or sisters.’
Rosie looked at her as if surprised. ‘I got a sister,’ she said. ‘She’s called Reet.’
‘No, Jean, I don’t think you have,’ said Miss Hughes. ‘You’ve come to live with Mr and Mrs Waters, haven’t you?’
‘They took me away,’ Rosie said with sudden recollection. ‘They pushed me into the car and they left Reet behind.’ She began to look wildly round the classroom and with tears flooding down her cheeks called out, ‘Where’s Reet? I want Reet. I don’t like it here. I want Reet.’
The other children stared at her, round-eyed, and Miss Hughes sent one of them to fetch the principal, unable to stop Jean from crying, from calling for someone called ‘Reet’, from shouting that she didn’t like her new home.
She was quickly hustled from the room and made to wait in the principal’s office until Edna came to fetch her.
‘You’re a naughty, ungrateful girl,’ Edna scolded. ‘Daddy and I have given you a lovely home, and you’re telling people you don’t like it here. You’re a lucky girl that we took you away from that place and gave you a proper home.’
Gerald, when he came home that night, did more than scold her. ‘She’s got to learn who’s boss in this house,’ he said to Edna when he heard what had happened. ‘And I’m going to teach her.’
‘Of course, Gerald,’ Edna said. ‘You’re quite right.’ And she waited down in the living room while Gerald went upstairs to find Rosie. Moments later when Rosie’s screams echoed through the house, Edna switched on the radio to drown them out.
From then on, Rosie, now Jean, walked in terror of her new father. She withdrew into her own little world, only emerging to do as she was bid, to appear to the world as the spoilt adopted daughter of two kind and generous parents. Beautifully dressed, she appeared at church, sat quietly through the services, spoke only when spoken to. A dutiful, obedient daughter.
Some weeks later, Edna had gone to a meeting at the church to help plan the annual Harvest Festival supper. Rosie was already in bed, tucked in with a kiss by Edna before she left, but as so often, she lay awake, listening to the sounds that came from downstairs. Sometimes she would hear her father come up the stairs and pause outside her room, apparently listening to hear if she had gone to sleep. This particular evening, she heard his feet on the stairs, and lay as still as she could waiting for him to go back down, but he did not. She heard the door open and kept her eyes screwed up tight, so he would think that she was asleep, but he did not simply close the door again and go away as she had hoped. He came into the room and stood by her bed.
‘Jean,’ he said. ‘I know you’re not asleep. Open your eyes.’
Not daring to disobey, Rosie opened her eyes and in the faded light still coming in through her little window, found him staring down at her.
‘I see,’ he said with a smile. ‘Pretending again. Never mind, you are awake, so you can give your dad a cuddle, can’t you?’ He saw Rosie shrink back in fear and his hand snaked out, pulling the covers off her bed and dumping them on the floor. ‘Now then,’ he said, his voice still jovial, ‘let’s have a look at you.’ He paused for a moment as if listening, then he crossed to the door. ‘Don’t want Mummy walking in to spoil the fun, do we?’ he said, as he turned the key.
25
Life in Larch was a great improvement on life in Oak and Rita and Daisy soon settled into the familiar routine. On that first morning, after breakfast, which was shared by Mrs Watson sitting at the head of the table, there were the usual chores to be done. Daisy and Rita were set to making more of the ubiquitous egg sandwiches, which had to be wrapped in paper and taken to school as packed dinner. As well as her sandwich, each girl was given an apple. Rita discovered later that girls from other houses were not as lucky. It was a rush to get everything done, and Mrs Watson was soon clapping her hands and chivvying them over to central to put on their socks and shoes for the walk into town.
Carrabunna School was housed in a long low building set round three sides of a square. There were two blocks of classrooms and a hall used for gym, dancing and any school gatherings, an outside toilet block, and in the middle was a sandy playground. As they came into the yard, the English girls saw there were boys as well as girls playing in the dusty space.
‘Didn’t know there was boys too,’ Daisy said with interest. She watched a game of football being played at one end of the yard, and was soon hopping from foot to foot, longing to join in. ‘D’you think I could play?’ she wondered.
Rita, who was familiar with boys’ playground games, laughed. ‘Not a hope. Boys don’t let girls play.’
She and Daisy were standing with the other new girls just inside the gate, watching the other children and wondering what to do and where to go. After a few moments Irene came over.
‘You lot got to come inside with me,’ she said, and she shepherded the new girls into the hall.
Daisy looked round her at the wooden ribs on one wall and the three thick ropes looped up to the ceiling. Through the window she could see the rest of the children out at play before morning school.
‘This place don’t look too bad,’ she muttered to Rita. ‘I’d love to have a go at climbing them ropes.’
‘D’you know how?’ asked Rita in surprise.
‘No, but I will.’
The nine girls sat down on the floor and waited. The teacher who came in was a small woman, dumpy, with grey hair cut short, rather like a man’s. Her face was round, with a short snub nose and a receding chin. She wore round-rimmed glasses, but through these stared a pair of piercing blue eyes, convincing the seated girls that she was not a person to be trifled with.
‘I am Miss Headley,’ she announced when she had everyone’s attention, ‘and I am the principal of this school.’
‘What’s a principal?’ asked someone in a whisper.
‘The principal is what you would call a headmistress, back home in England,’ she answered, although the question had clearly not been intended for her ears. ‘Now then, I’m going to call your names and when you answer I will tell you which classroom you’ll be in. Remember the number, and when I dismiss you that is where you’re to go. If there is no one in there, you simply wait for the rest of the class to come in from the yard.’
> Rita, Daisy and Joan, all being much the same age, were sent to Room 3. The room looked out on the playground, but the four rows of ten desks faced the blackboard and the teacher’s table, with their backs to the window. They were greeted by their teacher, Miss Carson, who told them where to sit, and moments later a bell rang, heralding the start of morning school. Another thirty children filed into the room and went to their places, boys on one side of the room, girls on the other. Rita found she had Audrey from Oak on one side of her and Carol on the other, and recognized several others from Laurel Farm, including Elizabeth from Pine and Jane from Elm.
Miss Carson introduced the new arrivals to the rest of the class, who looked at them with interest. They’d come all the way from England… they might as well have come from the moon.
Rita had never had much problem with her school work, though she preferred reading and writing to arithmetic. She knew her tables, and so found the multiplication sums they’d been set quite easy. She could see that Daisy was struggling, but there was complete silence in the room, so she couldn’t whisper any help. When the answers were given, Rita found that she’d only got one mistake.
‘This is very good work, Rita.’ Miss Carson had to glance at the name she’d written on the book to remember which new girl it was. ‘Well done. I hope all your work is as good as this.’
Daisy had done the worst and was warned that she’d be tested on all her tables at the beginning of next week. ‘That means I got to learn them all in just a week,’ she complained to Rita, when they were out in the yard for the mid-morning break.
‘Don’t worry,’ Rita said comfortingly, ‘I’ll learn them to you.’
After play it was time for composition, a subject Rita really enjoyed. They were told to write about what they’d done at the weekend. Most of the girls were soon hard at work, but both Daisy and Rita hesitated; Daisy because she found any sort of creative writing difficult, Rita because she couldn’t write about what had happened to her over the past two days.
The Throwaway Children Page 30
