by Judy Nunn
The following day, Caroline was dozing off in the upstairs front bedroom, Kathleen having insisted they swap bedrooms several weeks ago. ‘A pregnant woman needs space to move,’ she’d maintained, ‘being cooped up in that tiny back room is not good for the baby,’ and she’d swapped their belongings over, ignoring Caroline’s attempt to argue the point.
As she dozed, Caroline didn’t hear the knock at the front door. She didn’t hear Kathleen’s exclamation of heartfelt relief.
‘You’re back.’ Kathleen, who rarely cried, felt the tears spring to her eyes as she embraced him. ‘Oh my dear you’re back, thank God.’
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get word to you,’ Gene said, ‘I knew you’d both be worried, but it was impossible.’
Kathleen briskly wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. ‘Come in, come in,’ she said, hauling him inside. ‘Heavens above, we’ll have to get some fat back on those bones, you’re so thin.’
‘I sent a letter out with a buddy, but I heard later that he didn’t make it back. Has Caroline been distressed? I worried that …’
‘She’s been very brave, she knew you’d comehome. I’ll pop upstairs and get her, she’s having a lie-down.’
‘She’s not ill?’ Gene looked alarmed, Caroline never rested during the day.
‘No, no, she’s not ill. You go into the kitchen and put the kettle on, there’s a good boy.’ And Kathleen disappeared up the stairs.
Gene did as he was told. He filled the kettle and lit the stove, and then he heard her enter behind him. He turned. His wife stood, radiant, in the full bloom of her pregnancy, framed in the kitchen doorway.
‘Caroline,’ he whispered, unable to move.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said. Then she flung herself at him, crying tears of joy, laughing, kissing, hugging him fiercely.
‘Careful,’ Gene warned, disentangling himself from her. ‘Be careful, the baby …’
‘Don’t worry about the baby, it’s a Hamilton, it’s tough.’
So Gene held her to him as tightly as he dared, feeling the swell of her belly and marvelling at the thought of his child in her womb.
They didn’t stop talking for the rest of that day. In the upstairs front bedroom, between kissing and caressing, laughing and feeling the baby kick, they talked of their lives together. The war was over and Gene had plans.
Caroline was thrilled to learn that he was being demobbed in Sydney. ‘So you don’t have to go back to the States to leave the army?’ she asked.
‘Nope, they give you a choice, so of course I said Sydney. And we’re not going to live in America either, is that OK with you?’
Caroline nodded, she couldn’t care where they lived so long as they were together. ‘And it’ll be more than OK with Gran.’
‘It’ll probably be Melbourne though.’
‘Well, she can’t complain about that, Melbourne’s closer to Sydney than Maine.’ He was excited, she could tell. ‘So come on, don’t keep me in suspense. What’s so attractive about Melbourne?’
‘General Motors-Holden.’ She looked blankly at him. ‘General Motors in the US has formed a partnership with the Aussies,’ he explained. ‘They’re setting up a plant just outside Melbourne to work on the planning stages of a new Australian-made car.’
‘And you think you could get a job with them?’
‘Matt says it’s a cinch. Matt’s my Commanding Officer and his brother’s a big wheel in General Motors. He said they’d be begging for guys with my qualifications and experience and he’s given me contacts. Even said he’d recommend me to his brother as soon as he got back home.’ Gene’s exuberance sobered a little. ‘Of course we weren’t exactly talking across a desk. It was the sort of talk guys have when they’re in the thick of it. Plans for the future and all that. Big promises. A lot of the time it’s just a load of hot air.’
She said nothing. It was the first time he had even hinted at the action he’d seen.
‘But Matt’s no phoney,’ he added with genuine confidence, giving her a reassuring grin. ‘General Motors-Holden here I come. A top-ranking, top-paying job, I’ll accept nothing less.’ He winked. ‘But I won’t let them know it’s a job I’d pay to do.’
‘My godfather Tim’ll be disappointed.’
‘The mighty Tim Kendall? Why?’
‘Because he’ll want to offer you a job. He likes to have a say in our lives, mine and Gran’s. Don’t get me wrong,’ she hastily assured him, ‘Tim’s a beaut bloke and you’ll really like him. But when you come to dinner with us on Friday, I’ll bet you five bob he offers you a job, and I’ll bet you another five bob he says “I won’t take no for an answer”.’
‘M’sieur Kendall. Welcome. Welcome.’
Ada was hugely impressed by the reception afforded Tim Kendall. ‘That’s Henri,’ she whispered to Caroline. She’d been to Henri’s once before, Pete had taken her, and she’d found the Frenchman wildly sophisticated.
Henri, a hardnosed little Parisian who was aware that affectation impressed his diners, offered a welcoming nod, bordering on a bow, to each of them, and when it came to Ada’s turn, she nodded in reply. ‘Bonsoir, M’sieur’ she said, just as Pete had taught her.
‘Mademoiselle, mademoiselle,’ and to Ada’s great delight he bowed over her hand and kissed it. Then he personally escorted them to their table on the balcony, overlooking the park at Rush cutters Bay.
‘M’sieur Kendall,’ Henri pulled out the chair at the head of the table for Tim and clicked his fingers at two waiters who hurriedly rushed to assist the ladies. After he had fussed about for a suitably impressive amount of time and ordered the waiter in attendance to look after his ‘very special guests’, Henri disappeared.
The Frenchman’s showmanship produced varied reactions from the assembled company, Tim noted. Having dined there often, Ruth and Kitty took him for granted; a comfortable walk up the hill from the Kendall home, Henri’s had become one of their local haunts. Gene Hamilton, too, with eyes for no-one but his wife, appeared barely to notice the man, but Kathleen found Henri pretentious, and Wally Kendall was basking in the fact that the people at the other two tables situated on the balcony were looking at them with interest.
But then Wally was a larrikin with a bit of flair. Not unlike his father, Tim had been pleased to discover, recalling the days at the push pubs when little Tim ‘Tiny Tot’ Kendall had longed to emulate his uncle Billy. He’d have to watch Wally in business though, Wally could well turn cocky. He’d have a talk with his younger cousin, Tim decided. ‘Never forget your roots, Wally,’ he’d say. ‘Never forget where you came from.’
Then of course there were Caroline and Ada. It was their reactions which most fascinated Tim. Ada, pretty, petite, having gone to great pains to dress for the occasion, was revelling in the attention. And down-to-earth, unpretentious Caroline, who couldn’t herself have given a damn about Henri and his airs, was relishing her friend’s enjoyment. Tim shared a special smile with Caroline which did not go unnoticed by his daughter, Kitty.
Kitty Kendall did not feel threatened, however, secure as she was in her father’s admiration and affection. Unlike her mother, Kitty had never felt jealous of Tim Kendall’s relationship with Kathleen and her granddaughter. But then, unlike her mother, Kitty had met Kathleen and Caroline on several occasions when, as children, her father had taken her and her brother to visit the De Haan household. He had never once taken his wife.
Kitty glanced at her mother. Ruth was discreetly assessing Kathleen De Haan, as Kitty had known she would. There appeared no animosity in her however, not even an element of criticism that Kitty could see. And, correct and proper as she was, her mother was very often critical of others. It was a regular bone of contention between Kitty’s mother and father.
‘Live and let live, Ruth,’ Tim would say, ‘live and let live,’ and he’d walk away, refusing to listen to Ruth’s criticisms. Which wasn’t very fair of him, Kitty often thought, her mother was not malicious, she never
intended to be cruel. Ruth Kendall was merely the product of her neat and tidy middle-class upbringing, just as her husband was the product of his layabout, Surry Hills childhood. That was her dad, Kitty thought, with affection, working class and proud of it. Little did he know that, like others of his kind, he could be the biggest snob of them all.
Although her father was her hero, Kitty loved both her parents and, analytical as she was—as she had been all her life—their relationship was of constant interest to her. Something had happened between them. Very recently, she guessed. Her brother’s death had nearly destroyed her parents’ already tenuous marriage, but in the past month, they had appeared more comfortable, more affectionate with each other than they had in years. Kitty wondered what it was that had brought about the change.
The entrées arrived, and Henri bustled up to ensure that all was in order, his waxed moustache twitching as busily as his hands which fluttered like butterflies, fingers tapping against his chest one minute, clasped the next, then palms rapturously exposed either side of his face as he extolled the virtues of this or that dish.
Kitty leaned across the table when Henri had flitted through the balcony doors to the interior of the restaurant, and, with a comical raise of her eyebrows, she whispered, ‘he’s such a silly little man isn’t he?’
Tim, Kathleen, Gene and Wally all shared grins of agreement, whilst Ada looked dutifully shocked and Ruth Kendall glanced self-consciously at Henri’s receding back to make sure he’d not heard. Only Caroline laughed.
Or was it a laugh? Kitty couldn’t be sure. A sort of gurgling intake of breath, accompanied by a radiant smile of sheer enjoyment. That a woman as beautiful as Caroline Hamilton should have such a ridiculous laugh was to Kitty not only contradictory, but highly infectious. She couldn’t help it. She threw back her head and laughed herself. And there was nothing silent about Kitty’s laugh, like everything else about Kitty Kendall, her laugh was bold and rebellious.
‘Kitty, please,’ her mother whispered, but it was no use. Kitty had set Caroline off again and she continued to gurgle wickedly, which only made Kitty laugh all the more. Then the others joined in, Ada’s sense of propriety disappeared altogether in a fit of the giggles, and even Ruth was unable to resist a smile, having checked that Henri was safely out of sight.
The ice had been well and truly broken by the time they pulled themselves together, but, throughout the evening, whenever Henri bustled up to the table, Caroline and Kitty had to fight for control.
As the evening progressed, Tim basked in the exchange between his daughter and hisprincess. Of course they liked one another, he had known that they would, they shared the most admirable trait a human being could possess in his opinion—honesty. And he felt such pride in twenty-two-year-old Kitty as he watched her. The boyish face, framed by its mane of chestnut hair, and the lithe, toned body, reminded him of a racehorse, well bred, strong and intelligent. Strange how like her mother she looked, and yet how unlike Ruth she was in character. He glanced at his wife who was listening politely to Wally expounding some new promotional idea for the business.
It had been Ruth’s patrician quality which had first attracted Tim, and it had certainly been helpful to the company, Ruth could be most impressive. An excellent businesswoman, and a partner in the family firm, she and Tim had made an efficient team from the very start.
As the waiters collected the main course dishes, Wally looked up at one of them and asked loudly, ‘Where’s the dunny mate?’
Ruth blanched, Wally had been drinking too much.
‘Left at the top of the stairs,’ Tim said. He grinned as he rose from the table, ‘I think I’ll join you,’ then to appease his wife, ‘Excuse me dear, nature calls.’
Gene also stood and excused himself from the company.
Ruth nodded politely and turned her attention to her daughter who was telling Caroline, Kathleen and Ada about the current Sydney University revue. Its content was highly satirical and Kitty was being outrageous, but since the women found her funny Ruth didn’t feel too embarrassed or concerned. She looked about, hoping those at the nearby tables couldn’t hear. They couldn’t. Ruth, thankfully, relaxed.
In the men’s room, as Gene joined Tim at the basins and they rinsed their hands and wiped them on the linen hand towels provided, Tim thought now was as good a time as any to make his approach. Gene Hamilton seemed a nice enough bloke, and not short of a quid it was obvious. But Tim didn’t like the idea of the Yank whisking hisprincess off to America.
‘What are you going to do now the war’s over, Gene?’ Tim’s approach was as blunt as usual.
‘I’ve got plans,’ Gene said pleasantly, smiling to himself.
‘You could come and work for me, we need a man with your qualifications.’
‘Do we?’ Wally joined them at the basins, it was news to him, he didn’t even know what Gene’s qualifications were.
‘I’m sure we do.’ Tim wasn’t sure at all, he’d have to talk to his foreman but Caroline had told him Gene had an engineering degree, they’d find a job for the man somewhere in Kendall Markets.
‘We can always do with a man of Gene’s calibre,’ he said, his eyes telling Wally to ‘bugger off’. Wally bid a hasty retreat, leaving them alone together.
‘Thanks, it’s a generous offer.’
‘I won’t take no for an answer,’ Tim insisted.
‘I’ll think about it, Tim,’ the American replied. ‘Thanks.’
‘I owe you ten bob,’ Gene whispered to Caroline as the men rejoined the party.
Champagne was served with the dessert and it was, surprisingly, Ruth who proposed the first toast. She’d had three glasses of wine, which was far more than she was accustomed to drinking, but she wasn’t drunk. She was more relaxed and at ease than she had been for a very long time, and it had nothing to do with the wine.
‘I should like to propose a toast,’ she said, rising from her chair.
Seated beside her, Tim looked up at his wife in surprise, but she didn’t return his look, her eyes were fixed upon the handsome old woman on the opposite side of the table. ‘To Kathleen,’ she said as she raised her glass. The others raised theirs, happy to oblige, and Kathleen wondered what on earth it was all about. ‘I should like to thank Kathleen for being such a fine mother to Tim.’
‘Kathleen,’ they all said with bonhomie, rising to their feet and sipping their champagne, only too ready to embark on any number of toasts, it had been a good evening. Mystified, Kathleen sat there surrounded by them all, wondering if Ruth intended to humiliate her. Why, she wondered, she’d never met the woman. She looked at Tim, but Tim was sharing the moment with his wife. They exchanged a smile and he took Ruth’s hand as they sat.
Kitty was watching her parents, she knew they were holding hands under the table. How long had it been since they’d held hands, she wondered. And it had something to do with Kathleen De Haan. She’d probably never know, but whatever it was, Kitty was grateful.
Ruth looked at Kathleen. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and her smile was so genuine that Kathleen’s cynicism vanished in an instant. She had no idea what she might have done to deserve such gratitude, but she smiled warmly in return.
Ruth recalled the early evening, not very long ago, when Tim had come home from Kendle Lodge. By all reports Billy Kendall was close to death, and she’d worried a little at the effect seeing his Uncle Billy might have upon Tim. For all of his remoteness, she knew that Tim was grieving over the death of his son, he didn’t need any added pain. If only he could share Robert’s death with her, she’d thought time and again. But he couldn’t, and she had to accept that.
She’d taken extra pains with the meal that night, and was prepared to comfort him. But, to her surprise, it was he who comforted her. He embraced her as soon as he walked in the door.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry about our son.’ And he held her as she clung to him and wept her thankful tears, suddenly overcome by the compassion she’d been
seeking for months. ‘There, there,’ he said, stroking her with such tenderness, ‘there, there.’ She’d thought, gratefully, that it was the visit to Billy which had brought about the breakthrough.
But when they sat together on the sofa, his arm protectively around her, and she finally asked, ‘How is he? Billy?’ Tim had seemed surprised by the question.
‘Oh. Not good,’ he said, dismissively. ‘I hope he dies soon.’ It was not the callousness of the remark, but the distraction with which he made it that surprised Ruth, his mind had obviously been elsewhere. She waited patiently for him to explain.
‘I visited Kathleen before I went to Kendle Lodge …’ he said, having no idea of the impact of his statement.
Kathleen! His arm around her felt like a dead weight.
‘… and I cried like a baby,’ he said, bemused, he wasn’t sure himself how it had happened. ‘It all came out somehow.’
You cried like a baby! With Kathleen! It all came out somehow! With Kathleen! His arm on her shoulder weighed a ton.
‘I know I’ve closed you out these past few months, Ruth, and I’m sorry …’
These past few months! What about the last twenty years! He was stroking her wrist with his other hand and his fingers felt like ice.
‘… I know I’ve been selfish, we should have been able to share our grief.’ He pulled her closer to him, wanting so much to give her the strength and support she’d been deprived of, trying so hard to make up for her months of lonely suffering.
His arm was weighing her down and the hand which clasped her shoulder felt like a giant claw.
‘But we can now,’ he said, ‘I can help you now.’
‘Now that you’ve seen Kathleen.’
‘Yes.’
He didn’t register the monotone of her voice, he didn’t recognise the danger signs. But then he rarely listened to her anyway, she thought.
‘And what did Kathleen say?’
‘Nothing. She didn’t need to.’ He recalled Kathleen’s eyes and the knowledge he’d seen in them. The unspoken knowledge of the agony he was going through. It was something he couldn’t explain. ‘And then she held me,’ he shrugged, ‘and like I said, I cried like a baby.’
