by Di Morrissey
Phyllis shook her head. ‘No, dear. I’m sorry. I think he would have been a good dad to you.’
Tearfully Lara picked up the photograph of Clem in his uniform. ‘I think he has been a good dad to me, you know that? I’d like to think he’s been looking out for me. Quite late in life I’ve come to like the idea of a guardian angel.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t know about these things, dear. All I can say is I think it’s best you don’t rake over painful memories. It’s all in the past. What good is it going to do you now?’ Phyllis said.
Lara didn’t answer, she could tell she wasn’t going to make Phyllis understand how desperately important it was to her. And how could she explain to this elderly woman that she’d seen the figure of a man, a soldier, in her grandmother’s house one night? And that the man she’d seen was this man in the picture she now held. Clem, her father.
‘I just wish I knew more about him, as a young man. Are your brothers still alive?’ Lara asked hopefully.
‘Sadly, no. There’s just me now. I miss my Cyril, I miss all of them. I miss my son. I have a daughter Barbara, Elaine’s mum, and lovely grandchildren, even two great-grandchildren. But I miss my son, he was my best friend after Cyril died. My son got cancer and died quickly.’ She dabbed at her eyes. ‘You never expect to bury your child. I cherish so many happy memories.’
Lara leaned forward and touched her hand. ‘Aunty Phyllis, you’re lucky to have those. I have no memories. No knowledge, nothing. And everywhere I turn there’s a blank wall. I even have someone anonymously saying I shouldn’t try to find out. Is there more I don’t know? That I should, or shouldn’t, know? These secrets, they’re not worth keeping in the end. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
‘She’s right, Gran.’ Elaine walked through the door carrying groceries. ‘Secrets only hurt.’
There was something in Phyllis’s eyes and her expression that Lara couldn’t read. Finally Phyllis shrugged.
‘I wish I could help. All the family are gone. Mine and yours.’
‘What about other people that lived here during that time, would they know anything?’ asked Lara.
Phyllis thought a moment and then her face cleared. ‘There are a few, funny how people stayed here or came back to the valley. The Gordon boys who lived next door to your grandparents, one of their wives is still around. And, heavens, what about Thommo? He knew Clem best of all.’
‘Who’s Thommo? Where’s he?’
‘He was Clem’s best friend. Martin Thompson. They grew up together, he was always out at our place. I never saw him again after Clem’s funeral, but someone, now, who was it, told me he was back here. Living up on the mountain. If you could find him, he’d be the one to tell you all about your father.’
Lara began to shake with excitement, this was the closest she’d probably come to learning what her father was like. ‘Oh, Aunty Phyllis, please try to remember who told you. How do I find him?’
‘The mountain is a small community, Lara,’ said Elaine. ‘Just go and ask around. Take someone with you though, there are some strange people up there.’
‘Are you serious?’ Lara stood up. Her head was spinning. ‘Aunty Phyllis, I can’t thank you enough.’
‘I’m happy to help, Lara. I often wondered how you’d turned out. If I remember anything else I’ll call you.’ They hugged and Phyllis said goodbye and excused herself to go to the bathroom. Elaine walked outside with Lara.
‘Was she helpful?’ asked Elaine.
‘Eventually. She was a bit reluctant,’ said Lara. ‘Didn’t feel it was her place to reveal what my mother had never told me. The more I hear the more secrets there seem to be.’
‘Phyllis knows all about secrets, she should talk,’ said Elaine with some bitterness.
Lara glanced at her in surprise. ‘Really? She seems so warm and open. I wish I’d known her when I was growing up, she’s the only link to my father.’
‘My mother felt the same as you. We didn’t find out for some time that Mum was born out of wedlock before Gran married Cyril. Gran has never told Mum who her father is. Mum was the flower girl at Gran and Cyril’s wedding. She always felt like a second-class citizen. When Cyril and Gran had a son, Mum’s half brother, he was treated like a king. Mum always felt like the maid, she said.’
Lara wasn’t sure how to react to this information about Barbara. ‘Must have been hard for Phyllis, her son dying before her,’ she said as they reached her car.
‘I guess so. My mum said the happiest day of her life was when Cyril died.’
‘He wasn’t a good stepfather to your mum?’ Lara stared at the other woman. ‘Did you know him?’
‘Fortunately no. He abused Mum for years. She left home and got married at sixteen to get away from him.’
‘My God. Did Phyllis know?’ asked Lara.
‘I doubt it. Or she refused to believe it. No wonder she lavished so much love on their son. Poor Mum.’
‘Have you ever asked your grandmother about this?’ asked Lara.
‘Only about Mum’s real father. I didn’t see the point in bringing up the abuse issue. All Gran said was it happened, her family looked after them both, and then she met Cyril and married him. I got the feeling Mum was passed off by Gran’s parents, Nola and Walter, as their menopausal baby who then went to live with Gran and Cyril.’
‘How awful. Your poor mother. I guess she feels uncomfortable around Phyllis.’
‘Oh, she doesn’t blame her anymore. But one day I’m going to get the name of Mum’s father out of Gran.’
‘I can understand how you feel. Maybe his family doesn’t know Phyllis ever had your mother.’
‘That’s what everyone says, Lara. It’s the damn secrets they want to take to their graves. Don’t you wish your mother had told you about your father, rather than you trying to piece bits and pieces together?’
Lara squeezed Elaine’s hand. ‘You’re right. Well, I’m glad in a way that I’m not the only one with a secret past.’ She tried to speak lightly but Elaine’s story about Barbara had shaken her.
‘My past is part of your past too, you know, even if tenuously. Good luck, Lara. Be careful if you go to the mountain.’
Lara drove back to Cricklewood in a daze. The afternoon sun turned the paintwork a blood-red hue. She sat on the sun-warmed front steps and closed her eyes. She was trying to absorb what she’d heard and seen in Phyllis’s flat. Faces, blurred bush scenes, family groups and gatherings glimpsed in the photographs Phyllis had shown her reeled through her mind. But she couldn’t get over the news her father had died even before she was born. Why had her mother refused to talk about him?
Somewhere in the jumble there was the true story. And hopefully there was one person out there who could flesh out the ghost that was Clem Richards. Her father might not have been physically in her life, but Lara now had a strong sense that he’d always been there in spirit. Certain qualities, talents, attitudes that were so unlike Elizabeth Lara always believed had come from her unknown father rather than her mother. Then apparently he’d been branded a thief and had shamed her family. Somehow, though, Lara stubbornly preferred to think of him as the eager-faced young soldier with the happy-go-lucky smile.
If she found him, perhaps this Thommo might disillusion her. Lara stood up. Whatever it is, I’d rather know, she decided. Like Elaine said, ‘Too many secrets, too much pain.’
17
Cedartown, 1945
ELIZABETH WALKED SLOWLY HOME across the railway bridge, her shoulders hunched, her head low. Watching her, Harold’s heart ached. What should be a joyous time in her life – the arrival of her first child – was happening under a cloud of despair, shame and hardship. Losing her husband, especially after he’d acted so foolishly and cruelly, was shocking enough, but to discover she was pregnant so soon after the funeral had been a difficult blow. Harold was glad they hadn’t known about the baby when he went in to see George Forde again about the theft and the details of the money.
George had been
as sympathetic as possible but, as he looked sadly at his friend Harold Williams across his desk, he could only say, ‘I had to pay everyone what they were owed, Harold. Otherwise I wouldn’t stay in business.’
‘I understand your position, George. We know the responsibility rests with us. Elizabeth feels responsible because she left the room and even though it was her husband, that’s no excuse. The money’s gone and we have to pay it back. I’ve managed to get three-quarters of the total sum for you. The bank has been helpful . . . and . . . we had some savings,’ added Harold, straightening slightly. He didn’t want George to think he and Emily were penniless. Though heaven knew this unforeseen event had wrecked whatever small financial security they had. He prayed no one in the family got sick.
‘I appreciate you doing this, Harold.’ George knew very well what a sacrifice the hard-working man with the gnarled hands wearing the unfamiliar tie and jacket was making for his daughter.
‘Now, the arrangement we’d like to suggest for paying back the last two hundred pounds,’ Harold almost couldn’t get the amount out, it was such a large sum, ‘is that Elizabeth continue to work for you if you’re agreeable, but most of her wages be retained by you.’
George didn’t answer immediately. Elizabeth was a good worker and he felt sorry for her but, while it was unfortunate that her husband had turned out to be such a disappointment, he needed the money. His business was sailing very close to the wind in these troubled times. Harold Williams was a man of integrity and honesty whom he respected. He held out his hand. ‘Shake. And thank you, Harold. And Elizabeth. Perhaps staying here at her job will help settle some of the bad feelings.’
Harold winced. He knew there’d been gossip around the town but after Clem’s death no one dared mention the subject. It pained Emily dreadfully to think their good name and reputation had been tainted. She blamed Elizabeth for rushing into an ill-advised marriage. ‘The bank manager has the money draft all made out. We’ll not mention this again. Good day to you, George.’ Harold picked up his hat and quietly left the office.
And so Elizabeth went to work as she always had, living at home, the only occupant of the bedroom she’d shared with her sister. Mollie had joined the Women’s Auxiliary Airforce when she turned eighteen and had recently moved to Melbourne. Elizabeth was envious of her younger sister’s freedom and her escape from Cedartown. Here she was burdened with working for nothing for a long time ahead, still living under the watchful, sometimes accusing, eye of her mother. Now the shock of discovering she was pregnant was difficult to come to terms with. Fleetingly she had considered getting rid of the baby and had discussed it with Cynthia.
‘It costs money, Elizabeth. And who’d do it? I wouldn’t know where to start. You can’t go to a doctor. They’re not allowed. And those private places charge lots of money.’
‘I heard about some ladies down south –’ began Elizabeth.
‘That’s dangerous. Anyway, do you really want to get rid of Clem’s baby? It’s all you have of him,’ said Cynthia, rather shocked at Elizabeth even contemplating the idea of an illegal abortion.
‘I’m desperate, Cyn! I’m trapped here. I was thinking I’d go away and get a better job, send the money home and have some freedom. How am I going to manage with a baby?’ Elizabeth began weeping.
Cynthia comforted her friend as best she could. Elizabeth had always been the prettiest and most popular girl in town. Now she was being shunned and her future looked bleak. ‘Your mum and dad will help with the baby. I think your mum is rather looking forward to it. Maybe after the baby you can still move away. Maybe we could both go somewhere and find better jobs. The war must surely end soon.’ It was a spontaneous thought, but Elizabeth clutched at it.
‘That’s a grand idea! Would you? Move to Sydney with me? There’s still a big shortage of men, we’d get work.’
Cynthia patted her arm. ‘Don’t rush it, and don’t mention it to your parents. Just work quietly, be the grieving widow, carrying a child. Clem fought in the war, he’s always been a nice boy. The war changes people. You can’t help that. You know what your father says – hold your head up high.’
Elizabeth hugged her. ‘I wish you were my sister, Cyn. Thanks.’
Elizabeth had visited the doctor and the local midwife, but she was quite unprepared for the birth of a baby. No one she knew was pregnant or had children and it wasn’t a subject she could talk easily about with her mother. So when her waters broke after dinner one evening she knew her time had come. Unfortunately she was alone. Emily was visiting Harold’s sister down south and Harold had gone to a lodge meeting.
Elizabeth waited, pacing up and down the hall at Cricklewood until the contractions intensified and she became too worried. She rushed next door to the Gordon’s, hurrying along their long side verandah past the sleeping birds in an aviary, avoiding the dozens of cherished ferns and plans.
‘Mrs Gordon, come quick.’
‘Elizabeth, what is it dear? Oh my goodness, is it time?’
‘I think so. Mum and Dad aren’t home. What should I do?’
‘Have you packed your bag?’
‘No, I’m not due for two weeks at least. Is it going to be all right?’
‘Don’t worry, dear. Let’s get your things together and Mr Gordon will take you to the hospital.’
‘I’m sorry to be a trouble,’ said Elizabeth as they returned to the house to get the items on the list the nurse had given her. ‘I’m just a bit scared.’
Mrs Gordon felt sorry for Elizabeth. ‘Nothing to be frightened of, love. Just a bit of pain and then it’s all over. Too bad the boys aren’t here. We’ll have to let them know the good news soon, won’t we?’
Elizabeth wished the Gordon boys were home from war, and Andy too. They were like brothers to her and right now she needed someone strong and cheerful.
Mr Gordon carried her small bag into the entrance of the little cottage hospital and patted her shoulder. ‘Good luck, Elizabeth. I’ll tell your dad as soon as he comes home and he’ll be right over.’ He and Elizabeth knew it would be unthinkable to interrupt a lodge meeting.
The hours passed in a blur for Elizabeth. She heard a woman shouting out in pain, a baby crying, and tapping footsteps down the wooden floorboards of the hallway. The cottage hospital was a rambling old home that served the few patients treated locally. Elizabeth groaned in pain, but no one was there to comfort her. The matron was brisk and the doctor businesslike. A few minutes after midnight, a tightly wrapped bundle was put in her arms.
‘It’s a girl, Elizabeth. Sweet little thing, isn’t she? Does she look like her Dad?’
Elizabeth was exhausted. She peered at the tiny face, all that could be seen of her daughter. ‘I can’t tell. Is my father here?’
‘He is. I’ve told Mr Williams the happy news. You rest and you can see him in the morning.’
‘Couldn’t I see him now, please, matron?’
‘You’re not allowed to have visitors, but I suppose for a minute.’ She relented, feeling sorry for Elizabeth. Matron had a lot of time for Harold Williams.
Harold tiptoed to her bedside and took her hand. ‘Well done, lass. She’s a little corker. Just beautiful. Your mother is going to be thrilled. I’ll send a telegram in the morning.’
‘What am I going to do, Dad?’ A tear slipped down Elizabeth’s cheek. She felt overwhelmed by the responsibility suddenly laid on her with the arrival of this small human being.
‘We’ll manage, pet,’ said Harold softly. He held her hand, remembering the thrill of seeing his first newborn daughter. After a minute he asked, ‘What are you going to call the little possum?’
Elizabeth opened eyes and gave a small smile. ‘Lara. I read it in a book.’
‘Pretty. Just like both of you.’ He leaned over and kissed her forehead. ‘You just rest now.’
Two weeks after Elizabeth took Lara home to Cricklewood Harold laid a patch of wet cement under the tank stand and they pressed Lara’s tiny foot into it. Harol
d carefully wrote her name and the date. He then went down to his old wooden shed in the backyard next to Emily’s chicken run and carefully added Lara’s name and birth date on a wooden plank below that of Clem’s death date, which was marked with a small black cross. He stood back and surveyed the list of dates painted on the slab of timber. Cracks of sunlight shone between the roughly hewn wood and he hoped little Lara would bring sunshine into their lives. He and Emily doted on the baby, but Elizabeth was restless.
George Forde and Donald appreciated Elizabeth’s return to the stock and station agency because everything ran that much smoother. Even though they were kind, Elizabeth hated being there, constantly confronted by memories of the theft, and she found no comfort in Cynthia’s declaration that it was silly to think everyone in town was still talking about her. So when Mollie told her about a well-paying job in Melbourne as a book-keeper Elizabeth saw her opportunity. She’d be able to send money home to repay debts, her baby would be loved and cared for by doting grandparents and, more importantly, it was a chance to have a new life.
After some discussion Elizabeth was surprised that her mother agreed to her leaving Cedartown. She would live in Melbourne in an old house shared by Mollie and another girl and her pay was enough to live on and send money home to her father to repay George Forde.
Elizabeth caught the night mail train to Sydney, changing to another in the morning for Melbourne. While she’d miss her baby daughter, she knew the child was safe in the caring hands of her grandparents. She hoped that, at last, she could start afresh.
Emily took over the care of Lara with proprietary enthusiasm. Harold took Lara for walks in his arms, talking to her about all they passed as they headed along the bush track, over the creek and around the sawmill. Harold pulled Elizabeth and Mollie’s old pram out of the shed and cleaned it up and together he and Emily pushed their baby granddaughter into town once a week. Friends would look out for them to admire the little girl, as did shopkeepers and their customers.
