Maybe Rocco wouldn’t ask to go upstairs. Maybe he just wanted some company.
‘Think about it.’ Mac dropped his arm, slapping her behind as she left. She almost turned and slapped him back but thought better of it. Rocco was sitting with his cronies and she waved over at him before taking the stage next to Missy, performing the dancing and singing as best she could as her mind raced.
An hour later she was beginning to panic as Rocco pulled her into his lap just as Missy took her place behind the microphone.
His hand grazed across Theresa’s chest as he leant in to whisper the words she’d been dreading whilst Missy’s words entertained the room.
‘Oh-la-la!’ sang Missy.
‘Oh honey, I can’t tonight, but Scarlett’s free and she’ll take real good care of you, if you know what I mean.’ She winked. ‘I’ll just go and get her.’
‘I didn’t say I wanted Scarlett the harlot, I said I wanted you.’ He stood and dragged her with him, diving his hand inside her top and she pulled back, slapping him across the face. Mayhem exploded as he stumbled back onto a table, spilling the contents on a very drunk group of bohemian-looking men, who lurched out of their chairs, fists flying. Theresa ducked across the room and grabbed Missy off the stage, pulling her through the crowd as chairs flew, making it outside just in time for Mac to come storming out the other door, narrowly missing them.
‘You’ll be sorry for this y’bitches!’ he yelled, panting, but they were well down the street by then, still in their costumes, earning catcalls of approval from passers-by. They ran around the corner and down the street to where they knew Rick and Harry lived, running up the stairs, and pounding on the door before falling into their arms, crying.
‘I don’t know what I’m going to do now,’ Theresa sighed later, after a sniffling Missy had been kissed better by Harry, who had since taken her to his bed. Theresa hoped she was being careful. They’d been lovers for a few weeks and Theresa had given her strict instructions on how to avoid getting pregnant after asking a few discreet questions of Scarlett at the club. Once she would have found it impossible to believe that Missy would even contemplate sex before marriage, but here, where it was so commonplace, it didn’t seem the gigantic sin it once had.
‘I wish I could just stay right here.’ She curled up against Rick, sighing.
‘So marry me an’ live happily ever after.’ He swung her onto her back and she looked at him in surprise. Then she laughed.
‘Don’t joke. I’ve lost my job now and I doubt I’ll be getting another one easily once Mac has made my name mud,’ she said, pulling a face. She had already used up nearly all the money from the sale of her grandmother’s ring. She’d hate to have to sell the pearls or the watch.
‘Who says I’m joking?’ His face turned serious then as his eyes roamed down her body, taking in every detail revealed by her costume. ‘Y’know I love ya, an’ I’m about t’ join the army and make a quid. How ’bout it? Let me take care of ya.’
‘When? On leave? Or are you planning on knocking me up before you go and get killed and getting me a pension?’ She was serious too now and he reached up and stroked her neck, his fingers moving downwards.
‘I’ll come back. Promise. And we’ll move out to the country, to where me family is. Have lots of little tykes and I’ll getcha a nice little cottage where ya can cook me Sunday roasts and knit me jumpers…’ He leant in and kissed her and she melted in to him. ‘I’ll plant ya a nice rose garden and the kids can play footy in the backyard…raise a little family of champions all in a row…’
A family. How she’d always longed for it. ‘What about Missy?’
‘She an’ Harry can live next door. We’ll start a whole footy team!’
Theresa laughed, imagining herself and Missy, living side by side. Raising their families together.
‘Come to bed, love,’ he whispered.
‘No…I want to wait…’
He kissed her again and stroked his hand further down and she gasped. ‘Come on.’
Rick picked her up and carried her into the room, like a groom over the threshold, and she giggled, giving in at last as he lay her down. Their bodies entwined in the moonlight that bathed them through the window as Theresa felt the sweetness of touch for the first time in her twenty-five years. Afterwards, as they lay together, he offered her a cigarette and they watched the little trails curl into the silvered night.
‘I didn’t know you were a virgin,’ he finally said. ‘I woulda thought…’
‘I didn’t seem to find the time. Or the man. Until now.’ She smiled over at him. ‘Yes, by the way.’
‘Yes what?’
‘I’ll marry you.’
The next morning it poured rain and Theresa reached out for Rick to find he was already up.
She put on her clothes, looking forward to seeing him, but walking out into the other room she found only Missy, sitting huddled on the lounge and holding a note, the previous night’s make up running down her face.
‘What is it?’
‘They’ve run off to join the war.’ She handed Theresa the sodden piece of paper. ‘And the landlord’s been. Seems they left us the bill for three weeks’ rent.’
Theresa looked down at her skimpy outfit and thought of the stain on the sheets: it would wash away, but she knew at that moment the stain in her heart would remain as she collapsed onto the chair.
‘Seems like we found ourselves a couple of big leeches after all,’ she tried to joke, hiding the pain that threatened to overwhelm her. She thought about his offer to marry her last night and felt a wave of hurt as the betrayal registered in full. He’d tricked her by offering her the one thing he knew she couldn’t resist: a family. Despite all the caution, all the waiting, all the warnings, she’d fallen for a conman in the end and lost her soul to the sins of the city. Father O’Brien had been right about her and she felt ashamed of what she’d become. Was this what her grandmother’s ring had bought her?
‘What are we going to do?’ Missy sniffed, staring at the note.
‘I don’t know about you but I could really use a cup of tea.’
They sat on the little verandah of their runaway lovers’ flat in Kings Cross, overlooking the artists, the showgirls, the writers and the businessmen as they passed by in the rain.
Theresa and Missy slouched in their matching spangled outfits and drank tea and smoked.
‘Look at us.’ Missy flicked at a glittery tassel. ‘We’ve really become one of them now, haven’t we? Fallen women.’
‘Seduced but not conquered,’ Theresa reminded her, feeling some of her familiar resolve return. It was true. They might have been foolish but they hadn’t betrayed themselves completely. Their newly acquired state of unemployment was testament to that.
‘It’s just that it’s another world here, isn’t it?’ Missy sighed, watching a man in a suit carrying a large feathered hat, a tiny dog trotting behind him in a glittery vest.
Theresa gave a short little laugh. ‘The question is who does belong here?’
‘I guess I do,’ Missy said thoughtfully after a while. ‘In Kings Cross anything is possible.’ She turned to watch a crowd of young men as they sang their way home after an all-night celebration. ‘In a funny way it makes me feel that there is hope; that you don’t have to conform and do everything that is expected of you. It’s…freeing.’
Theresa dragged on her cigarette. ‘Unless you get trapped. And trouble is it’s turning me into someone I don’t want to be.’
‘There’ll be other fellas.’
‘No, it’s not that,’ Theresa shook her head, her damp hair sticking to her cheek, ‘I…I don’t enjoy it, Missy. The stage, the club. I just feel…on display or something.’
‘But isn’t that the point?’
‘Well yes, but that’s the problem. I just don’t like the way it makes me feel. When…when Rocco grabbed at me last night I panicked, but later I realised he’s no worse than a lot of them and it will keep on happening
if I work as a dancer. Men see me in a certain way. I guess I look like I would…do that…and I know it’s just a stepping stone until we get into bigger things, but I think if I keep doing that I’ll…’ she searched for the right words ‘…I’ll just lose myself.’
‘What are you saying?’ Missy asked nervously.
‘Missy, it isn’t for me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned here it’s that we do have choices now and we are free and this…this isn’t my choice.’
Just then the landlord arrived and Theresa and Missy hurriedly donned coats they found in the wardrobe and walked him the few blocks to their flat, paying him the owed rent rather than risking arrest. Missy saw him out and returned to find Theresa packing her belongings into a suitcase, leaving her costumes behind as she went.
‘What are you doing?’ Missy watched her fearfully.
Theresa didn’t answer, collecting her thoughts then turning and handing Missy the key along with a small box.
‘What is this?’ she asked, beginning to cry as Theresa donned the jacket of her only suit.
‘Just something to get you by until you get another job. A much better job,’ she replied, unable to look at her face.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Missy, it’s over for me. I just can’t do it anymore.’
‘But…but what will you do?’
‘As much as I hate to admit it, I really rather liked nursing, believe it or not, and I think…Well I just think it’s time to choose what I really want. I’ll be needed.’
‘You want to…to go to war?’
‘Well if no one volunteers to patch up all the fool men determined to get themselves shot…’ She tapered off as she noted Missy’s devastated expression. She was her only true friend and the only family she had ever known. Theresa didn’t know how she would be able to leave her, but she knew the time had come.
‘I’m coming with you.’
‘No. I want you to stay and fulfil your dream. Performing is all you’ve ever wanted to do and I couldn’t bear to stand in your way.’
‘But…but this is so sudden. Stay and talk about it at least…’
‘Missy, it’s better this way. If we talk about it you’ll end up coming with me or I’ll end up staying and one of us will always be giving up what she wants for the other. There’s nothing here for me…except you. It’ll just be for a short while, then we can each settle down with a non-leech and raise kids next door to each other, all right? Oh, come here!’
Missy fell into her arms. ‘But I’ll miss you,’ she sobbed.
‘I’ll miss you,’ Theresa whispered brokenly, holding her tight. They sobbed together, the pain of separation unbearable, before Theresa finally pulled away, heading out the door. ‘I’ll write to you all the time,’ she promised, walking backwards to soak up the memory of her dear friend’s face one last time before they parted.
‘I love you!’ Missy called after her.
‘I love you too!’
Missy watched until Theresa had disappeared from sight then went inside and slumped down onto the bed, not knowing what to do next. Looking down at her hands she realised she was still holding the little box Theresa had given her and, sniffing against her tears, opened it to find the string of pearls inside. Closing it slowly she made a promise to herself.
No matter what happened, she would never, ever sell them.
Thirty-six
Beecroft, December 1939
Pete took to the crease, pulling his cap low, watching Wally Collins marking his run-off carefully. Definitely short. Sure enough Wally bowled a short delivery and the crowd let out a cheer as the ball swept the ground for four. He laughed as his little brother James let out a whoop from the stands and his father waved his way, the crowd from Gallipoli Street clapping enthusiastically, taking up half of the pavilion. Even his grandmothers had come for once, along with his mother and Aunt Pattie, and he felt his attention waver momentarily before refocusing and pulling the ball to the left for another two. It was his last game before he left and he’d chosen to rejoin his old team for one final show; he was savouring every minute at his home ground. He’d already retired his cap from the New South Wales team, temporarily he hoped, until he returned from the war. The ball flew to the boundary as Wally scratched his head amid the excited cheers. Pete was determined to enjoy this and put all thoughts of the next few weeks out of his mind. They would come soon enough.
Drinks were called and Pete joined the players as they went over to the pavilion to rowdy applause, laughing as his father and Uncle Iggy instigated a chant: ‘Mu-r-phy!’
‘Over here!’ called May, who’d set up refreshments with Katie.
‘What on earth have you been up to now?’ He laughed at the sight of her. Her bike trousers and shirt were covered in a large ink-splotched apron.
‘What? I’m preparing food,’ she declared, wiping her hands against it. ‘Now hush up or I won’t let you have any.’
‘Nice looking cakes,’ remarked one of his mates, Larry Naismith, nudging his brother Vince and giving May an appreciative smile as he took a slice. Even in her usual disastrous state, May still got plenty of attention. It took more than a boyish haircut and wild fashion choices to hide a stunning face and figure like hers. She rewarded Larry with a flash of her dimples and he held the cake in mid-air, staring while his brother laughed.
‘Knock it off,’ Pete cuffed him. ‘What have we got here, Katie-bird?’ His little sister paused as she worked alongside May.
‘Lamingtons, sandwiches and apple tartlets,’ she answered, surveying the array of baking they’d laid out on the table. ‘And Anzac biscuits of course.’ She smiled at him but he saw the sadness in her eyes.
Pete gave her a wink. ‘Thanks. Hey, move back, you lot. Brothers and cousins first.’ He seemed to be pushing back a tide of admirers around the table and a fair share of them were there for Katie too. At sweet sixteen, she was the spitting image of his mother, save her long dark hair, and with her kindness and gentle ways fellas were always falling all over her. Not that she could care less, he noted to himself, watching Katie carefully pour Simon a cup of tea and place it before him. She’d only ever had eyes for their lifelong mate, who was completely oblivious to her feelings. With his head usually stuck in a book, Simon probably wouldn’t pick up on the fact unless Katie knocked him over the head with it and, considering she was the most ladylike little miss in Sydney, that didn’t seem likely to happen any time soon.
The afternoon wore on and Pete made a century for the team, although the way the Gallipoli Street crowd cheered he felt it might as well have been for New South Wales.
It was a happy convoy of cars that headed for home, Pete driving the old Sunbeam with Simon alongside and his little brother James in the back. May tore along on her motorcycle in front, Katie wedged into the tandem seat alongside. How May talked his sister into riding in that contraption he never knew, although Katie always had followed her about like an adoring puppy.
Pete laughed as Simon and James sang the victory song once more, relishing the journey. It would be last time he would drive the Sunbeam for a long time and he flew her along in a final farewell. The beautiful car was reminiscent of a more affluent time in their parents’ lives. Things were certainly better now than a few years back, when they nearly lost everything, but it had been a slow recovery and there certainly wasn’t much left over to buy expensive motorcars. Pete didn’t care. He loved this old car and looked after it meticulously, knowing that his aunt Pattie had been a bit torn when she’d given it to him for his twenty-first birthday.
They arrived at Highview and made their way along the fence, where a brilliant row of purple flowers stirred from the treetops of the jacarandas. Pete knew they were a living tribute to his uncle Tom and thoughts of war intruded on him once more as they turned into the gate and made their way up the drive.
‘Aunt Pattie!’ called James, running towards her. ‘Can we go and check the traps?’
‘I was just
waiting for you to arrive to do that very thing!’ she replied and they went off together to the creek to check the crayfish traps they’d been working on all week.
James was constantly on the lookout for something to do and Aunt Pattie always had an idea up her sleeve, having spent so many years learning about tools and carpentry from her father in his remarkable shed. His parents often shook their heads at the way the two of them would occupy themselves building carts, designing forts and inventing all manner of contraptions, all destined to be the next, best thing.
Once they’d even tried capturing a black snake from under the house with a marvellous invention they called the ‘Snake Snatcher’ (which Pattie later acknowledged she really hadn’t thought all the way through). It caught the snake well enough but made it such a cosy little home it wouldn’t come out; and coaxing it was a dangerous undertaking. In the end they’d opened the hatch and left a dead mouse out, though the snake must have had enough by then. The two were seen flying across the paddock, Pattie moving remarkably quickly for a woman in her forties, both yelling ‘Snake’s out!’ Veronica had been twitchy for the next few days, constantly on the lookout for a non-caught and now very annoyed reptile.
But Pete knew his mother didn’t mind. Pattie had a special soft spot for each of them. May was of course her living reminder of Uncle Clarkson, Katie a miniature of Veronica and therefore incapable of ever doing anything wrong, and James was her baby. He’d come along a little before Pattie and Mick had married and, as they were never blessed with children, Pattie seemed to see him as hers, especially as he was so much like her.
He knew all of this because Pattie kept a very special spot in her heart for him too. Pete was her comfort. He’d been born at the very worst time in her life and she seemed to consider him some kind of sign from God that things would get better. He knew whatever happened, Aunt Pattie would be there for him, Peter ‘Clarkson’ Murphy, just as she was for all of them.
Gallipoli Street Page 28
