Beneath the Southern Cross (32 page)

The back door slapped open and Robbie appeared with the puppy in his arms. He'd gone outside as soon as his mother and Dan had started arguing. They argued a lot these days and Robbie hated it.

‘Put him out the back,' she said automatically. ‘The pup stays out the back, you know the rules. And wash your hands, tea'll be ready in a few minutes.'

He sat at the table whilst she heated the stew. ‘Can me and Tim take the pup to the park tomorrow?' he asked.

‘I've an even better idea,' she said. ‘Mr De Haan has offered to take us out in his trap. We could go all the way to Watsons Bay if you like. We'll take a picnic and you can ask Tim along.'

Robbie nodded. ‘That'd be good.' She ladled the stew onto his plate. ‘Dan doesn't like the Dutchie.'

‘Then we won't ask Dan along, there won't be room for him anyway. And don't call Mr De Haan the Dutchie.'

‘Why not? Everybody else does.'

‘Because I don't want you to, that's why not.'

‘He doesn't mind,' Robbie muttered under his breath as he tucked into his stew.

Could Otto De Haan be the reason for her brother's outburst, Kathleen wondered. And suddenly it all made sense. Of course,
that was it, Dan was jealous. He'd been like a father to Robbie for all these years, and then Otto De Haan had come along. Kathleen smiled to herself, relieved to have discovered the answer. She'd have to have a serious talk with Dan—Otto De Haan was no threat to their lives. He was a lonely widower and she felt sorry for him, that was all. Otto's wife had died during the sea voyage from Holland, and he had been left with a six-year-old son to bring up on his own in a new country. Kathleen enjoyed his company well enough, but she wasn't sleeping with him. What was the point? He had no money. Poor dear Dan. He'd called her a whore because of the one innocent relationship she'd had in her life. My goodness, she thought, if only he knew the half of it!

 

‘Not long to go by the looks of things, you're about ready to pop, you are.'

Norah gave an involuntary start and turned to confront Posie Brown. Posie lived in Wexford Street a half a block down from the Kendalls and was vociferous in her criticism of Norah. ‘Miss High-and-Mighty. Who does she think she is?' she'd proclaim to all and sundry, and she had good reason, for it was plainly evident that Norah considered Posie common.

Posie Brown lived openly with a man to whom she was not married, she dyed her hair a ginger-gold, and she worked behind the bar of the Crown and Anchor. Not that there was any harm in that, Norah would hastily add when she caught Ben's disapproving look, there were good women working behind bars, she was sure, but not the way Posie did. Not drinking and smoking and spitting like a man, at least that's the way rumour had it. Norah preferred not to be associated with Posie Brown, and Posie Brown knew it.

‘Thought you'd be shy of parading yourself like that. You of all people.'

If Norah had taken the time, she might have registered the note of approval in Posie's voice. Pregnancy must have mellowed Norah Kendall, Posie thought, it was good to see her out with her huge, fat belly. But as it was, covered with confusion and embarrassment, and furious at having been caught out when she'd thought she'd be able to pop up to the corner cart without being seen, Norah turned her back on the woman. She accepted her bag of
turnips and chokos from the greengrocer and clasped her shawl about her. When she turned to face Posie, she was composed, although a little flushed in the cheeks.

‘I have indeed remained at home during the period of my confinement.' It was her intention to sound superior, which was always Norah's way of defence, but profound embarrassment lent an unpleasant icy edge to her tone. ‘I consider it only proper.' And she started to move off down the street.

Posie, outraged that her pleasant greeting had been so deliberately snubbed, followed. ‘Con-fain-ment,' she said mockingly, her voice shrill, ‘oon-ly propp-aar, well, listen to you Miss Hoity-Toity.'

Norah hastened her pace, her face now crimson, her heart beating quickly. A man and woman passing by had turned to look at her. Only a block to go, but it seemed so far away.

‘A person tries to exchange the time of day and she doesn't get so much as a nod in her direction.' Posie was performing for the passers by, enjoying Norah's humiliation. It was time Norah Kendall copped a dressing-down, she'd been asking for it for long enough.

Posie trotted along beside Norah, a skip to her step. ‘Now I aask you, is that po-laite bee-haviour?' She gave a raucous laugh, pleased with herself, noting Nellie Putman on her balcony, watching. Good, Posie liked an audience.

Norah couldn't help herself, she was only several steps from her front door, she should have dived inside without a word. But she didn't. She whirled on Posie Brown.

‘Get away from me!' she cried with a touch of hysteria. ‘Get away fromme, you common, awful woman!'

Posie had only been having fun, teaching Miss Stuck-Up a bit of a lesson, but Miss Stuck-Up had gone too far, and Posie was suddenly angry.

‘Just who the bleedin' hell do you think you are?' she hissed, thrusting her face close to Norah's, her voice ugly now. ‘You reckon you're too good for the likes of us, don't you?'

Norah took the last couple of steps and fumbled with the frontdoor handle. She had to escape, two women had stopped in the street and were openly watching.

‘Well, you listen to me, Lady Muck.' Posie followed her, right to the door. ‘Your husband isn't above us common lot, you ask Maureen at the Crown and Anchor.'

Norah heard the words and froze. She felt sick as she turned.

‘Saw him myself I did,' Posie enjoyed the shock on Norah's face, ‘coming downstairs with Maureen McLaughlan, late on Saturday night, you ask him!' And she left as Norah once more fumbled with the door handle, her eyes blinded by tears.

Nellie Putman had watched the proceedings from her balcony, but hadn't been able to hear what Posie had said. A mixture of curiosity and a genuine desire to help led Nellie downstairs and through the kitchen to knock at the Kendalls' back door.

As she closed the front door, Norah was gasping, she couldn't seem to get her breath, and she hoped she wasn't going to be sick. She ran to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Beth was there. She'd just that minute come downstairs from her sewing room to make a pot of tea. ‘You've been out, Norah,' she said surprised, ‘that's not like you.' She stoked the coals in the grate. ‘Not that I think there's any harm in a bit of a walk in your condition …'

Norah sat at the table, swallowing hard, trying to control herself. She'd expected Beth to be upstairs and the house deserted. ‘Just to the corner cart,' she managed to say. Then she burst out sobbing.

‘Good God, girl, what's wrong?' Beth quickly filled a glass of water and forced Norah to drink it.

Between sips, she coughed and choked and sobbed. ‘Posie Brown,' she said, ‘Posie Brown said that Ben …' but she couldn't go on.

‘Drink it all down, there's a good girl,' said Beth, giving her a clean tea towel to blow her nose. ‘Drink it all down and then you can tell me.'

But Norah had to say the words, she couldn't keep them inside. ‘Posie Brown said that Ben slept with Maureen McLaughlan,' it came out in a rush, ‘at the Crown and Anchor on Saturday night.'

‘Drink the water, there's a good girl.' Beth was buying time, she wasn't sure how to tackle this one, it had the ring of truth. She knew that Ben had come home late on Saturday night, and a little the worse for wear by the sounds of things—she'd heard him clumping up the stairs more heavily than usual.

She saw Nellie Putman approaching the open back door and was grateful for the diversion. Nellie could be helpful at times like
this, Beth wasn't good at telling lies and they needed to make light of the situation.

‘He came home late on Saturday,' Norah mopped her eyes with the tea towel, ‘and he was drunk.'

‘A night with the boys, he said the next morning, and what's wrong with that on a Saturday? Why, Nellie, come in, I've just put the kettle on.' The older women exchanged glances, Beth's eyes asking for help.

‘What's the matter, lovey?' Nellie plumped herself down in one of the chairs and Beth had to edge around her bulk to put the cups and the dish of biscuits on the table. ‘I saw Posie Brown giving you a hard old time of it all the way down the street.'

Norah sat primly up in her chair, wishing that Nellie would go away. She needed to talk to Beth, Beth was the only person she could talk to, the only person she'd ever been able to talk to. Why had Nellie intruded? Why had Beth asked her in? Then, to her horror, Norah heard her mother-in-law say, ‘Posie Brown reckons that Ben slept with Maureen McLaughlan, at the Crown and Anchor on Saturday night.'

Beth didn't look at Nellie as she lifted the tea canister down from the shelf, she just hoped that Nellie would know what to say.

The statement was so brutal that Norah once more lost control. Despite the presence of Nellie Putman and regardless of maintaining appearances, she buried her face in the tea towel and sobbed.

‘Ah. I see.' Nellies miled at Beth, but it wasn't a smile of com-plicity, not the exchange that Beth had expected, Nellie obviously saw no problem. ‘That Posie Brown, she's a one all right.' She leaned her heavy elbows on the table. ‘She's never liked you, Norah.'

Norah blew her nose on the tea towel as discreetly as she could, wishing that Nellie Putman would go away.

‘And she's always fancied your Ben,' Nellie added, ‘most of them do, you know.'

Norah stopped concentrating on the tea towel and looked at Nellie. What an outrageous thing to say!

‘You do know that, don't you, lovey?' Deadly serious, Nellie was demanding an answer. ‘All the girls, they fancy your Ben, you do know that.'

Norah found herself nodding, as the tears gathered once more. She couldn't even hate Nellie for saying it, she was only telling the truth.

Beth watched intently. Nellie wasn't going about this the right way at all, Norah was insecure enough as it was, the last thing she needed to be told was that women were queuing up for her husband.

‘And Posie's just one of them, Norah, she lusts after your Ben. And when you're snooty to her that's the way she causes trouble, 'cos she knows that if your husband was a lecher he could choose whoever he wanted, and I'll bet my last quid Posie wishes he'd choose her.

‘And I'll tell you something else for nothing, Norah,' Nellie continued. ‘I've been around in my time. I've been with a lot of men, and that may shock you or not and I don't really care if it does …' The kettle was boiling by now but nobody noticed. ‘Course I've never cheated on my Jack,' she added, ‘not even when he was inside. But when I was a girl, Norah, I had more men than you could poke a stick at. Lived with myfirst one when I was fifteen, I did.'

It was not a boast but a statement, and Norah found herself staring at Nellie Putman, and for some strange reason hanging on her every word.

‘So you see, lovey, I know men. And I can spot a lecher from a hundred yards. I can tell by his walk, I can see it in his face. I can smell it on him, so help me God I can, I've known so many in my time.' She leaned over and patted Norah comfortingly on the knee. ‘And your Ben isn't one, lovey, I'd swear it on my mother's grave I would.'

Beth picked up the kettle and burned her hand. She gave a sharp gasp, quickly put it down and reached for the oven mitt. Was Nellie naive? Did she believe what she was saying, or was she spinning a yarn? It was impossible to tell, Beth thought as she filled the teapot. But if it was lies Nellie was coming out with, then she had a nerve swearing on her mother's grave. That was asking for trouble.

‘There, Norah.' She brought the pot to the table, sat beside Nellie and started to pour the tea. ‘You just listen to Nellie. She's the wise one. She knows what it's all about, don't you, Nell?'

‘I certainly do.' Nellie picked up the cup of tea and Beth looked again for some sign of duplicity in the woman's eyes, but there was none. ‘You've got a good man in your Ben and you shouldn't listen to some little floosie who tells you otherwise just because she fancies him and because she wants to get back at you for being snooty.' She handed the cup to Norah. ‘It's not fair to Ben it's not. Now you drink your tea, lovey, there's a good girl.'

‘It's true, I was rude to her.' Calm now, Norah dutifully sipped. ‘I didn't really mean to be, but I was embarrassed.'

‘Course you were. Thank you, Beth.' Nellie accepted her cup of tea and took a biscuit from the plate.

‘Ben'll be cross when he finds out I snubbed Posie. He always gets cross when he thinks I've been rude.'

‘Well then, we won't tell him, eh? We'll keep our lips buttoned up and say nothing at all. What do you reckon?'

‘Yes, I think that would be best.' Norah nodded.

Nellie was pleased with her victory, and she knew that she was right. Of course she wouldn't swear on her mother's grave that Ben had not been with Maureen McLaughlan on Saturday night, but during the last week or so of a woman's pregnancy her husband could be forgiven for seeking sexual satisfaction elsewhere. It certainly didn't make him a lecher. Nellie would swear on her mother's grave to that.

 

‘It wasn't the first time either, I bet.' Beth read her son's silence as acknowledgement that she was correct. ‘Oh Ben, how could you? Norah's about to have the baby any day.'

‘I know, I know.' Although part of him wanted to tell his mother that it was none of her business, Ben couldn't stand the disappointment in her eyes. He felt that he'd let her down. ‘I went with Maureen three times, Mum. Honest. Three times, that's all.'