by Carol Coffey
“Came in post this morning,” Greta said, “Ordered it special.”
I assume it is more music sheets and return to my seat under the window. The sisters’ nephew Henry is here and, true to his word, he is once again dressed in civilian clothes. He kisses his aunts gently and takes a seat beside them. Steve turns the tape recorder on and begins. He starts with Penelope.
“Penelope, can you tell me about your early life and what brought you to Broken Hill?”
Everyone leans forward. The sisters are quiet and usually keep to themselves and we realise that we know very little about them.
“I was born in 1905 in Sydney where my father was an important man.”
Penelope stops and looks expectantly at Steve, seeking his approval. He smiles at her and nods for her to continue.
“My father was in the army and we had to travel with him after my mother died. That was when Henry, my brother, was five, Victoria was seven and I was nine. My father said that travel broadens the mind.”
Steve stops the tape and leans towards his nervous interviewee.
“Penelope . . . may I call you by your first name?” he asks.
Penelope nods. She looks down towards her shoes and pretends there is some dirt on them. She doesn’t look up until Steve leans further forward. She moves away from him. He doesn’t know that Penelope doesn’t like anyone getting too close to her.
“Penelope, you don’t have to take part in this research. I can interview Victoria or one of the other residents.”
Penelope shoots a glance at her sister who has torn a paper tissue into pieces on her lap. “No. She won’t get it right.”
Victoria half-opens her mouth but shuts it quickly and lowers her eyes to the ground. She starts to tap her foot off the wooden floor and bites her lip.
Henry coughs to gain Steve’s attention.
“It’s all a bit public, isn’t it? I think it would be better to interview my aunts on their own.”
Penelope’s eyes widen and Victoria starts to mutter something to her sister.
“No!” Penelope said. “Please not on my own. Please don’t separate us.”
No one understands Penelope’s sudden fear. Henry shrugs and Steve pats Penelope on the shoulder.
“You sure you want me to ask you questions?”
“Quite sure,” Penelope says.
“If there’s anything you don’t want to answer, that’s fine, okay? And . . . I’m interested in your story, Penelope, not your father’s so tell me about yourself, about your life, okay? Your sister will get her chance next.”
Penelope nods and speaks clearly into the microphone. “Where was I?”
“You were born in Sydney in 1905.”
“Oh yes, em . . . my father was . . .”
Steve looks at her with raised eyebrows.
“There is not much to tell about me. I was quiet. I tried to stay out of the way.”
Steve flashes a smile to put her at ease. “Go on.”
“When my sister was old enough to play with me I was happy. There were no other children around and we lived in a rather large house in Sydney. There were always lots of people coming and going, mostly people who worked with my father and there were lovely parties, at least when my mother was alive. My mother was so beautiful and all of the men loved her. It used to make my father angry. Women would wear such beautiful dresses and dance in our hall. Ladylike dresses,” she says, glancing swiftly at Victoria. “My father wanted a boy and until our brother was born, he had our servant make sailor suits for us and other clothes that looked like they were for boys. Even though we are British our family have a long history in Australia. Our great-grandfather Henry Miller the Third served with the British Army and in 1868 he was part of the last fleet to bring convicts to Australia for punishment.”
I watch my mother look briefly at Martin who snorts and turns his back on the group. If Jimmy were here he would have done the same thing. The men have more in common than they think. Martin picks up a newspaper and starts to read, flicking it to drown out the sound of Penelope’s voice.
“Our father was born in England and he served the Queen all over the world. He came here to serve her colony and he loved Australia but he said you would never want to be anything except British because we are the most important race in the world.”
I look at Wilfred but his face is covered by a book. I wish I knew what he was thinking. I wonder if he still believes that the Germans are the supreme race or if he ever really thought this.
“And what race do you consider yourself to be?” Steve asks.
Penelope and Victoria look at each other and like identical twins they answer exactly the same rehearsed answer that their father must have taught them.
“We’re British” they say in unison as they wring their hands anxiously.
My mother is looking on with interest. She has a half smile on her face and I know she doesn’t think that Steve will get very far. She has tried many times herself and it has always ended in tears.
“So tell me about your lives when you were little girls.”
Penelope lowers her shoulders and takes on a deflated posture.
“When my mother was ill, my father was in Africa fighting nasty savages who were trying to keep land for themselves. Someone from the camp sent word that Mother was dying. She was very hot and her face was quite red. There were sores on her hands and sometimes she didn’t know who we were and we had to remind her. Daddy sent word back and a soldier came to the house to say that he was at war and had no intention of coming home but mother had died by then anyway and we had only servants to look after us. Daddy was wounded in Sandfontein almost a year later and he had to come home on a walking cane. Henry was very sad without Mother, and Victoria and I tried to make him happy but we could not. When Daddy settled in and we were allowed to see him, he asked what nonsense Henry was going on with. He said, ‘Henry, you are six years old and you’d better sharpen up and be a man about this.’ But Henry wasn’t like Daddy. Henry was sweet and . . .’”
I could see the younger Henry stiffen and swallow. This was probably the first time he had heard details of what a terrible childhood his father had endured. Penelope straightens herself up again while Victoria never takes her eyes off the floor and swings her legs back and forth like a little girl with nothing to do.
“Henry never became happy. He cried at night and wet the bed and Daddy said he had had enough of this foolishness and sent Henry to a school very far from where we lived. When he was older he ran away from the school and Victoria and I tried to explain to him that it was better to stay quiet and be agreeable but Henry . . . Henry didn’t like Daddy and even though he got caned, he still shouted at him and said he . . . that he hated him. We only saw our brother then on holidays but soon he was better behaved and Daddy said he could come home now that he was presentable. After that he took his lessons with us and we had to learn so much – Latin and French and ancient history. Then Daddy was sent to handle the troublesome Irish where there was another war with more savages trying to keep land. He took us with him and we had a house in the countryside. Daddy came to see us from time to time but we never got to see any savages. We met lots of nice people who looked after us and were very kind because we had no mother. Daddy’s leg was better from his injury in Africa but he had a limp that you were never allowed to ask about. We loved Ireland and had a very nice nanny and servants who cooked nice food but it was very cold there with lots of rain.”
Penelope quietens and looks as though she is trying to stifle a cough. She shrugs her shoulders as though she has nothing more to say.
Steve looks at her and is about to ask her to continue when she says,
“Then we went back to Australia.”
“No, we didn’t,” Victoria, who hadn’t appeared to be listening, says suddenly. “Remember, we went to India for more wars. You were seventeen and Daddy made you wear Mother’s clothes.”
Penelope jumps up and puts her fingers
in her ears. “Shut up, Victoria! You’re lying!”
Everyone looks at each other. Even though people had been used to Penelope bullying Victoria, they had never before heard the sisters shout at each other.
“It’s true!” says Victoria. “The doctors advised Daddy to move to a warmer climate than Ireland. His old wound hurt and he needed a warm place to live so we moved again. In India, Daddy made Penelope wear our mother’s corset and dresses that were too tight. It made Penelope very unhappy. He made her –”
“Stop it!” Penelope screams.
She jumps forward and slaps her younger sister hard on the face. Greta moves forward quickly and stands between the two. Henry’s mouth drops open and he looks as confused as the rest of us. It is clear that he has no idea what is upsetting Penelope.
Steve looks at Henry for direction but the young man looks nailed to his chair. Then the realisation of what Victoria said seems to dawn on him. His face flushes and large veins jump on his forehead. Greta sits Penelope down and holds her hand. Penelope’s lower lip trembles and she looks close to tears.
“I’m sorry, Victoria,” she says but her sister ignores her.
“Victoria, let’s forget about India. When did you come to Australia?” Steve asks.
Victoria, enjoying the attention that is now on her, rubs her face and leans forward to speak into the microphone.
“We came to Sydney in 1924. Henry was ill in India and Daddy decided that he would send us children back with an escort. He was worried that Henry would die because he was his only son and he didn’t have plans to marry again.”
Victoria looks nervously at Penelope but her sister is lost in thoughts that don’t look happy.
“Penelope and Henry were glad to be going without him but I said I would miss him. But he got wounded again so we waited until he left the hospital and we all came back together. Daddy was sent to Broken Hill and we took a train here without him while he sorted out our things. I was seventeen by then. We moved into a large house near the base and there were no other people our age around. We had a new tutor but Daddy said Penelope was now too old for lessons and I was only allowed to attend language lessons and lessons appropriate for a lady. The tutor was not allowed to speak to Penelope alone and spent most of the time with our brother. Henry used to pretend to be stupid by failing exams. He was hoping that Daddy would not enlist him. Instead he wanted to paint and he was rather good at it. He didn’t like fighting. Daddy gave him a good caning once because another boy punched him and he didn’t fight back. We were terribly bored and we didn’t see as many people here as we were used to. Daddy didn’t let us mix with other young people but when we went to town Penelope and I would notice their modern clothes that we would have loved to have. Sometimes I begged Daddy for a new dress but he would have our servants make a new one and it was never what I wanted. Penelope did everything he asked but he left me alone.”
Victoria looks at her sister and reaches out her hand to her. Penelope grasps it and their eyes lock. The sisters nod as though they are communicating without words.
“When Henry was seventeen, Daddy enlisted him in the Royal Australian Air Force. He wanted Henry to join the army but felt that dropping bombs from a plane rather than face-to-face combat was more suited to our brother’s sensitive nature. He was stationed at Point Cook but after three months on the base, Henry went AWOL. Daddy said they should have shot him but when they found him he was imprisoned on the base. A doctor examined him and said he wasn’t . . . he wasn’t . . . stable. The Air Force released Henry into Daddy’s care until he was better. But when he got here, Daddy refused to see him and poor Henry stayed in his room all day. Sometimes Penelope and I would sit in there with him, especially when Daddy was on the base and not watching. He would talk to himself sometimes. Before summer, Daddy sent Henry to a hospital in Sydney where they were used to dealing with frightened servicemen but when he got better he left for England where he stayed for over two years. He didn’t come back until I was twenty-two and a lot had happened in that time. He looked better and he was earning money as an artist. His paintings were beautiful and he had become less nervous. He wasn’t afraid of Daddy any more and he wanted to help Penelope and me to – to get away. He brought perfume for us but of course we were not permitted to have it. He also brought music sheets for Penelope and when Daddy found them, there was an awful argument. Daddy threw Henry out for trying to poison our minds with evil music.”
Victoria goes quiet and looks downward to try to hide the tears that have formed in her eyes.
“It was nearly twenty years before we saw him again.”
“What happened to him?” Steve asks but both sisters become tearful and seem oblivious to his question.
Henry sits forward.
“I think I know the rest,” he says.
“My father returned to London where his career as an artist took off. He wrote often to Penelope and Victoria but he knew they never got his letters. He kept the few letters that Victoria sent. My mother said he read them over and over and that he used to cry. He worried about them and wanted to take them away. He – he never told me how bad things really were for him. Today is the first time I’ve heard about his young life in such detail. Granddad had such tight control over his daughters and my father knew that his sisters were far removed from normal life and the excitement of growing up in the twenties. He said that they should have been enjoying life instead of being cooped up in that old house. They never went anywhere without an escort, usually a servant who would not disobey my grandfather’s orders. All they had was each other.
“My mother said that Dad was scared of getting married, that he didn’t think he had anything to offer family life so even though they met in 1940, they didn’t marry until after the war. Despite my father’s long hatred and fear of war and his desertion at Point Cook, he could not avoid conscription into the British forces. He was wounded at Normandy and when he returned home, my mother said he was a different man. I don’t think he ever got over what he experienced there. He saw no glory in war and often painted war scenes to try to tell the world just how bad it was. I was born a year after my parents’ marriage and they left Britain for Australia. Granddad died that same year so I never met him.
“When we got here, my mother said that things weren’t good for Penelope and Victoria but I’ll let them decide if they want to talk about that part of their life. The war had taken its toll on my father and while his paintings still fetched good prices, he was drinking money faster than he earned it. We were close when I was younger but in the few years before he died, we didn’t get along at all. He stopped listening to me and became domineering. He wanted me to promise that I would never join the forces but from a young age I was fascinated by the army and I wanted to join as soon as I was old enough. It drove a wedge between us. It’s ironic, isn’t it? His father forced him to join and a generation later I joined up even though he begged me not to. Anyway, he was reunited with Penelope and Victoria but we lived in Sydney and didn’t see that much of them because of the distance . . . and there were some other problems but I’ll let them decide if they want to talk about that. Now that my mother is dead, I’ve decided to base myself in this town. They are the only family I have. I’m the last of the line.”
“Your aunts never married?” Steve asks.
Henry sighs. “Well now, that’s another story.”
Steve looks at his watch. It is way past one o’clock and Li has been waiting to serve the residents their lunch.
Kora leaves the room unexpectedly. “Phone! I’ll get it,” she says.
I don’t follow her as I am waiting to hear the rest of the sisters’ story but, when my mother suddenly jumps up and runs from the room, I follow and Greta is fast behind me. Kora is standing in the hallway crying. My mother takes her by the shoulders.
“What’s happened?”
We all think that Jimmy is dead and that Kora is taking it harder than we thought she would but her lips trem
ble and she crumples into my mother’s arms.
“It’s Jeff. He’s been hurt real bad on the farm. They’ve taken him to hospital.”
Kora starts to cry again. My mother runs upstairs and knocks on Aishling’s door.
“Aishling, can you cover me for a couple of hours?”
Aishling opens the door. She hasn’t gone to bed yet and is standing fully dressed in the doorway.
“What’s wrong?”
“Jeff’s hurt. An accident on the farm. I have to drive Kora to the hospital.”
Aishling comes downstairs just as my mother disappears out the front door. I watch her look briefly at the pile of mail and for the first time she walks past it and goes directly to the kitchen. She makes herself a coffee and brings it to the Penance Room where she sits nursing the steaming cup with both hands. I see an exchange between her and Steve and wonder what it means. It is not like his previous looks. Not romantic.
As the residents slowly file into the dining room for their lunch, Steve stands and shakes hands with Henry.
“Maybe we better continue this tomorrow. Would you be free?” he asks.
Henry nods. “Seems like a lot happened to them that even my dad didn’t know about.”
Steve nods. “Yeah. Especially to Penelope.”
Henry grimaces. He doesn’t want to verbalise what we are all thinking, that his grandfather was abusing Penelope.
He says his goodbyes and quietly lets himself out, leaving only Aishling and Steve in the Penance Room. I stand in the hallway and watch him smile at her.
“You must be tired,” he says.
She smiles a broad smile, revealing a neat row of white teeth that make the lines under her eyes look darker.
“You never told me why you left the Church,” she says, running her finger around the edge of her coffee cup.
Steve turns to face her and leans his head to one side. “I woke up one morning and realised I didn’t believe any more.”
