Not that this meant for one moment that she had forgone the rules that made such a life possible. Catherine knew that contentment could only be attained if one behaved as a lady should. Thinking upon her daughter, she wondered if she would ever truly make Veronica understand the difference between being wild and being free. Wildness placed one in danger, an unpredictable state of being that could only end with others taming you by force.
But true freedom, well that was a happiness no one else could touch.
Patting her dark chignon into place and smoothing the white silk of her dress, Catherine’s eyes came to rest on her wedding photo and she smiled. She was free indeed.
Three
The large table was full when Veronica arrived, and she wondered if she imagined a flicker of admiration from Jack as she entered the room. She certainly didn’t imagine it from their guest Dan Hagan, who stumbled as he stood up and hurried to pull back her chair, bowing slightly.
‘Look out he doesn’t catch any flies there, Vera Mags,’ her brother Tom whispered in her ear as Dan returned to his seat to gape at her from across the table, his movements awkward but his brown eyes earnest. She slid her gaze along to see if Jack had noticed and it collided with his, which made her stomach so unsteady she felt she could have been the one swallowing flies.
‘Well now, let’s have a toast then,’ her father announced. ‘Here’s to the heroic efforts of our boys in the First Eleven today. Well played, especially our Tom who got his first fifty of the season, and young Dan who is promising to be our best fast bowler in many years, ably supported by Mick in slips. Well done.’
‘Hear, hear,’ chorused the men.
‘And to the ladies for putting on a fine spread as usual,’ Kevin went on, smiling at his wife, ‘and for gracing our table with their beauty, even our little Vera here, pretty as that rose, my dear.’
Veronica blushed, touched the flower in her hair and noted a flash of annoyance pass across Rose’s face. ‘And finally to young Jack, who I hear tell was quite the hero this morning, saving some girl from disaster. Nice to know our womenfolk have a quick-thinking man like you about to keep them safe. To good company!’
The crystal glasses chimed as dinner was served, conversation centring on the heroic rescue, although Veronica was grateful to note that Jack deftly avoided elaboration, stymieing all efforts to find out who had been the young lady in question. Her heart pounding with the fear of discovery, she tried to stay focused on her food and remain inconspicuous. The latter wasn’t really that hard. For much of the meal it was Rose who drew all of the attention with her animated conversation, until she apparently decided to send some of it Veronica’s way.
‘Do you know who the girl may have been, Veronica?’ she asked. ‘Jack said he’d never met her before.’
‘I-I’m…not sure,’ stammered Veronica, feeling trapped as all eyes turned towards her along the table.
‘You are probably around that age, are you not? Fifteen or so?’
‘Seventeen,’ Jack corrected her.
Veronica noticed Rose didn’t seem to like that.
‘Perhaps you’re not being completely honest, Jack. You seem very knowledgeable about the girls in this area,’ she said.
Veronica thought Jack laughed a little uneasily, but then he kissed Rose’s hand and said: ‘Well, everyone knows the girls in Beecroft are the prettiest around. Look at the one I’m sitting next to.’
Rose simpered and Veronica felt like yanking her stupid ringlets, but then the redhead redirected the focus onto her once more and annoyance slipped back to nervousness. ‘Surely you have some idea who it could be, Veronica? After all, how many girls are there in this little town?’
There was nothing to fault the logic of her questions, but Veronica knew without doubt now that Rose had full knowledge it had been she on the road that morning and was steering the conversation towards humiliating exposure. Worse still, her brother Tom was kicking her under the table and grinning at her knowingly. Lord knew what he was about to say, surely finding this opportunity to tease her irresistible. Veronica shifted her desperate gaze to her father who winked in return and cleared his throat.
‘It seems to me that we have a case of a young lady who needed some fresh air and got a bit carried away, but whoever it was I think we should allow her the dignity of anonymity. I’m sure she’s learnt her lesson, and we’ve all longed for a little taste of freedom in our day, have we not? No harm done, thanks to young Jack here…speaking of fresh air, who would like to join me on the verandah for a breather?’
Veronica breathed a sigh of relief herself but it was short lived as Catherine stood, directing raised eyebrows her daughter’s way, and beckoning her to the kitchen to supervise dessert. Pattie Murphy followed her in a swish of dark pink silk.
‘A word if you will, Veronica.’
Jack’s sister Pattie waited impatiently as Veronica stood in the next room being dressed down by her mother in hushed tones. The phrases ‘not a child any more’ and ‘reputation to consider’ came floating under the door.
Pattie sighed, absent-mindedly stirring the cream. She had arrived that afternoon hoping to spend some time with her friends. Unfortunately, she hadn’t dressed for tennis, which she usually thoroughly enjoyed, and she was forced to miss out on the joys of flinging herself around the court and trading banter with the boys. Instead, with Veronica busy in the kitchen, she’d been forced to spend an interminable afternoon with Rose. After only two months in the neighbourhood, that gigantic know-it-all already seemed to fancy herself an expert on everyone and everything in it. It was almost as if Rose chose every word as part of some fiendish plan to antagonise her.
And now here she was at it again, only this time it was Veronica at the mercy of her scheming ways. A proper little viper that one, Pattie decided, and definitely not someone she wanted as a sister-in-law.
Catherine emerged, a subdued Veronica in tow, and Pattie pasted a suitably serious expression on her face, replacing it with a grin as soon as Catherine exited through to the adjoining room.
‘Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Why not? It was only Jack. And it wasn’t as if you were flying along in your drawers, although Rose would have us all believing this mystery woman-child was practically nude.’
‘How did she know it was me? I mean, who saw, for goodness’ sake?’ Veronica hissed, looking over her shoulder to make sure her mother was busy organising dessert aperitifs with Eileen in the other room.
‘She was probably lurking in the bushes, trying to accidentally stumble across Jack so she could twirl her stupid parasol his way.’ Pattie stuck out her tongue in disgust.
Veronica thumped the spoon as she assembled the desserts, adding extra cream and jam to each bowl of cake and crumble. ‘Well, she’s ruined my summer. Mother will watch me like a hawk. She said I have learnt “nothing about behaving like a lady and everything about becoming a hooligan”.’
Pattie laughed. ‘Oh piffle! So what if you had a bit of ankle showing and hair flying about? It’s not like I haven’t horrified a few old biddies with my adventures. Trust me, she’ll get over it.’
‘Your mother isn’t like my mother.’
‘It’s not your mother who caused the problem. That Rose really riles me up! You know, she really deserves her just desserts.’ Pattie stuck her finger in the jam, tasting it. ‘Hold your horses!’ she declared suddenly, clutching at Veronica’s arm and pointing at the wall. ‘Let’s squish that huntsman up. Put it in her jam.’
Veronica watched agog as Pattie climbed up onto the stool with a bowl and spoon to catch the spider. ‘Stop it! You’ll get caught!’ Veronica gasped, giggly and nervous at the same time, but Pattie was something of an expert at spider catching. Despite the impediment of her ‘blasted skirts’, soon the unfortunate creature was being buried in the last of the sticky jam at the bottom of the bowl.
‘What’s taking you so long?’ Catherine demanded, entering the kitchen with
Eileen and eyeing the desserts impatiently.
‘Just finishing adding the jam.’ Pattie smiled innocently, heaping a large blob onto the final plate as Catherine marched out, telling them to hurry along.
‘This one is for Rose, Eileen,’ Pattie instructed her carefully. ‘She said there was no possibility that your jam would taste as nice as their housekeeper’s.’
Veronica watched round eyed as Eileen jutted out her chin indignantly.
‘We’ll see about that, miss.’
‘You’ll be fine, dear boy,’ Dr Dwyer assured Tom, who was busy lamenting his loss of sleep during his final exams. ‘If you’ve made it this far you’ll be sure to pass next year as well. Then you can join your brother and take an internship down at St Vincent’s. They didn’t haul me all the way from Melbourne without giving me a bit of clout! I’ll take care of it for you.’
The desserts were being finished and Veronica tried not to stare as Rose lifted her fork towards the bit she’d obviously been saving: the jam.
‘You’re enjoying it there, aren’t you, Mick?’ Dr Dwyer asked.
Mick looked to choose his words carefully. It wouldn’t do to offend the chief surgeon of the hospital. ‘Of course! Although in the long term I had been considering the possibility of working locally. I’ve always imagined myself a rural doctor. Being able to spread myself about a bit.’
The jam perched in dark globs as it headed towards Rose’s mouth.
‘Less serious city problems such as plagues and more rural problems such as spider bites?’ Pattie suggested, just as Rose landed the contents firmly into her mouth and began to chew.
Pattie’s father George chuckled. ‘We’re hardly dealing with plagues these days, my dear.’
‘I saw a spider-bite patient just this week,’ Tom piped in. ‘Head like a horse he had poor chap. Not unlike our Mick here.’
Veronica watched horrified and fascinated as Rose reloaded her fork.
‘Beastly creatures. I can’t imagine what the good Lord was thinking when he made them,’ Rose observed, turning to smile at Jack. ‘I’m afraid I’m quite terrified of spiders in general. They seem to be everywhere around here.’
‘Oh you’ll find you’ll develop a taste for them,’ Pattie assured her as Rose ate another mouthful. ‘Are you quite all right there Vera?’ she added innocently, her eyes dancing wickedly at a choking Veronica.
Veronica nodded, red-faced, sipping her water.
‘Perhaps we should adjourn to the parlour?’ Catherine suggested, moving the party to the next room and casting an exasperated look at her daughter.
‘That was a little hairy,’ Pattie whispered in Veronica’s ear as she walked by.
It was some moments before Veronica could compose herself to follow.
The men filled their whisky glasses and the conversation turned to hospital politics; the ladies listened, sipping their sherry.
Catherine relaxed, able to do so at last now that dinner was finished and her guests were satisfied. This was by far the best time of evening for the hostess, she observed, settling comfortably into her armchair in the soft light of the parlour and focusing on Mick’s story.
‘So he had only moments to decide either way and went with his instincts. Luckily for the patient he was right and it was appendicitis.’
‘Extraordinary,’ said Dr Dwyer.
‘The poor girl would have died if he’d listened to that damn charlatan,’ Mick finished.
‘Mick, please,’ Catherine admonished.
‘Oh he can call a spade a spade there, my dear. Dr Smythe is an old quack – isn’t that right, George?’ Kevin deferred to his old friend, George Murphy, who knew the man well.
‘I have found in life it is best not to disagree with one’s host,’ George replied, ‘however it is even more advantageous to refer to the lady of the house in all matters of polite society. They are the ones who feed us after all.’ He nodded and tipped his glass at Catherine and she noted, not for the first time over the years, that he really was a very nice gentleman. Alice was a fortunate woman. A charming husband, a successful handsome son in Jack, and Pattie…well Catherine had to admit, the girl was unfailingly likeable even if she was a bit wild. Not that she was in a position to judge, after her own daughter’s antics that morning. Noticing Iggy Dwyer standing quietly by the window she realised he had hardly said a word all evening.
‘And how about you, Iggy?’ she said, after acknowledging George with a smile. ‘Have you never thought to study medicine like your father?’
Iggy looked to be considering his response. ‘I’m afraid my studies were somewhat interrupted during my formative years, Mrs O’Shay.’
Mildred leant on her husband’s hand. ‘He was terribly ill with scarlet fever, I’m afraid. Spent a good five years bedridden, poor lamb. Only got well again this past year.’
‘Oh I am sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,’ Catherine said.
‘Not at all, not at all,’ Mildred assured her. ‘We don’t like to mention it, but so far the Sydney weather seems to agree with him, bless him. Never seen him so well and strong.’ She smiled at her son, still patting at her husband’s hand. ‘What God takes away with one hand, he gives with the other.’
‘Can’t say I wasn’t disappointed,’ Dr Dwyer said stiffly.
‘Now, now,’ Mildred said. Catherine felt the tension from Iggy as he shifted his weight away from the curtain he’d been leaning against. She knew he had endured some kind of ill health – Mildred often alluded to his ‘disposition’ then seemed to catch herself – but she’d no idea it had been for so long and of such a serious nature. She looked at the doctor, figuring it wasn’t something he liked people to know about his son.
‘It’s no use denying it was a great disappointment to me that he couldn’t continue his studies for many years. He has a fine mind but he missed too much school in the end – and wasted his opportunities to boot.’ Dr Dwyer took a gulp of his brandy.
Mildred added quickly, ‘Of course he’s excelled at his piano. The master at the Conservatorium said as much, did he not, dear? Says he’s got real potential.’
‘Humph.’ Dr Dwyer drained his glass. ‘Yes, piano playing. That’s quite a career choice for a man.’
Catherine shifted in her chair, wishing she’d never broached the subject, as Iggy placed his glass on the mantel.
‘The boys were talking about the trouble in Europe today,’ he said lightly. ‘Perhaps you’ll get lucky and end up with a son in uniform. That’s something any father can be proud of, is it not?’
Silence stretched across the room.
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ Kevin said reassuringly, noting Mildred’s stricken face.
‘Surely not,’ she said. ‘’Tis a long way off from us.’
‘If the Brits need us then Australia will rally,’ Jack said firmly. ‘Half our relatives are over there.’
‘What about your family here?’ Pattie countered.
Everyone seemed to consider that for a moment.
‘They say if you join the Light Horse you get to take your own mount over with you,’ Dan said shyly. ‘Imagine that. Riding across Europe. I’ve never even been out of Australia.’
‘I doubt it is much of a holiday,’ Mick remarked. ‘Still, if it comes to pass I’ll be doing my bit, no doubt about that. They’ll be needing doctors.’
‘And I couldn’t let you sail off alone and charm all the nurses in your shiny new uniform. I’d better come along and pitch in a stethoscope too.’ Tom grinned across at his brother.
Catherine eyed her sons with concern. She supposed if war came she would be grateful that both had chosen to study medicine and would therefore tend the wounded rather than fight on the front lines, but no one was safe, of course. Already the ladies at church were atwitter with patriotism, but she knew only too well that casualties always exceeded glorious, unsupported expectation. Her brother had sailed off to the Boer War filled with confidence and survived all kinds of horrific ba
ttles, only to die in a field hospital while being treated for dysentery. Remembering her mother’s face when she’d received the news of his death, Catherine felt the sudden urge to hold the hands of the clock above the fireplace. To cheat the fools who made war. She bent her head as the memory of her brother’s cheerful wave goodbye returned to her with full force. Then she felt someone move to stand behind her shoulder and a hand covered hers. Looking down at the long brown fingers, she saw her own tear land upon them.
‘Now, now, I’m sure it will all come to naught,’ Kevin said, smiling gently down at his wife, patting her hand. ‘Let’s move into the parlour and see what Iggy’s been learning on the piano and have a little singalong. Where’s Pattie? Come along, young lady; give us a tune or two.’
Mischievous Pattie had certainly given her parents a few extra grey hairs over the years, but all was forgiven when she sang. Her beautiful voice washed over them as she began with ‘When Irish Eyes Are Smiling’, which made Mildred cry openly. Pattie’s parents rocked back and forth, arms linked, misty-eyed. With the applause barely over, Rose whispered in Iggy’s ear and he played the opening chords to ‘You Made Me Love You’. Pattie didn’t seem to have much choice but to sing as Rose curtsied in front of Jack. They danced in the lazy familiar way of lovers and, even though others soon joined them in the centre of the living room, they seemed isolated in their own world. Catherine observed the expression on her daughter’s face, feeling her pain as she tasted the cruel sting of heartache for the first time in her young life.
Veronica watched them and knew somehow that the race had been run and that Rose had won, although what exactly she’d done to win didn’t bear considering. Nor did she want to stay to watch Rose enjoy her victory. She was heading for the door when Dan appeared in front of her, his expression hopeful as he bowed for the second time that night and held out his hand. He was closer to her in age than Jack and nice enough looking, she supposed, with his brown hair and eyes and broad shoulders. She knew she should have been flattered by his attentions, but all she could feel was disappointment that he wasn’t Jack. Finding herself unable to refuse, she allowed him to waltz her around the floor and, in spite of herself, the music began to lift her spirits.
Gallipoli Street Page 3
