My Place (42 page)

‘He was walking in his sleep,' we told her innocently, ‘he fell off the verandah and broke his arm.'

That turned out to be a good excuse. So we often used it after that when we were caught out of bed, playing dares.

I grew to love adventures, and I always knew I had to be brave, it didn't do to lose face in front of your friends.

There was an empty cottage where old Sister Fanny lived. Actually, she lived on a part of the verandah which was enclosed in hessian. It was very dirty and must have been very cold in winter. The inside of the cottage was used for visitors, who sometimes came and stayed overnight or for a few days.

All the kids were too scared to go near Sister Fanny, we all thought she was a witch.

One day, some kids from a rival gang dared me to go right up to her. I wanted to back down, but, being a leader, I couldn't. Also, I'd been shooting my mouth off about how brave I was, so I had to live up to it.

I sneaked up very slowly to the cottage until I found myself standing just outside the hessian door that hung from the old tin roof. The flap swayed back and forth in the breeze and I could see inside to the dirt floor. There was a large, black cat lying on the ground asleep. I was sure then Sister Fanny must be a witch, because everyone knew witches had black cats.

I was so busy watching the cat, I didn't notice Sister Fanny. She pulled the hessian aside, stuck out her old, wrinkled face and said, ‘Haaa!' I jumped back in shock. She had lank, uncombed shoulder-length hair and she looked very grubby. As I gazed at her face, I realised that she really did have one blue and one brown eye. The other kids had told me that, but I hadn't believed them.

‘I just wanted to pat the cat,' I said quickly.

‘Come in, child, come in,' she said in a thin, wobbly voice. I went inside and sat down and patted the cat. I thought if I patted it, it wouldn't hurt me.

Sister Fanny kept mumbling and walking around the room. I began to feel sorry for her, it was so shabby. There were just an
old iron bed and boxes for her furniture, nothing nice. I realised then she wasn't a witch, just a frail old lady.

After a few minutes I got up, said goodbye and rejoined the other kids. They couldn't believe I'd actually gone inside, they all thought I was really tough.

‘You saw the witch,' they said, ‘you saw the witch. What do you think, is she a real witch?'

‘No,' I replied, ‘and don't go throwing any more stones at her place. She's just an old lady.'

‘Yeah, but she's got one brown eye and one blue,' said Tommy, ‘only witches have eyes like that!'

I couldn't deny that, but I knew in my heart she was just an old lady.

There were a number of adults who I became quite attached to, and used to visit regularly. I found I got on well with older people, perhaps because they often had food, usually biscuits or cakes.

I regularly visited the office lady, Miss Button, who had a little room behind the office, to ask if she had any jobs she needed doing. She was a particular friend of mine. She would get me to dust down her mantelpiece and then she'd make me a cup of tea and give me a biscuit.

I was very excited when she went for a trip to England. She was always talking about England. Once, she'd shown me a map of the world and pointed out where England was. Just before she left on her trip, she promised me she'd send me a postcard from England. I couldn't believe it when it finally arrived. All the kids thought I must be really important to get a postcard from the country where the King and Queen lived, because, apart from God, they were the next ones we stood in awe of.

About this same time, I was adopted by the Northam Country Women's Association as a needy child, they decided that they would send me a gift at Christmas and on my birthday. A parcel arrived on my birthday, not long after Miss Button's card. I told
all the kids that Northam was really in England and that my parcel had come from the King and Queen. I was lucky, because my present was a beautiful doll, and it looked English. It was the best birthday I ever had, even though the older kids said I was lying and that Northam wasn't in England.

While Miss Button was in England, I spent a lot of time visiting Miss Lindsay, another old girl who lived at the Home. She had a tiny weatherboard cottage halfway between the last house and the hospital. She'd always been a part of Parkerville, no one could remember when she first came there. She was English, and, whenever I visited her, I always took her a flower I'd pinched from the garden, because Miss Moore had told me that the British like flowers.

After Miss Lindsay had made a big fuss over my flower, she would go to her glass cabinet and take out a plate of small iced cakes. The first time I'd had a cake from Miss Lindsay, I'd taken a bite straightaway and found, to my horror, that my fancy pink cake had cobwebs inside. I'd been really scared, I'd wanted to vomit. Had I swallowed a spider? Would I die? I'd thanked her quickly, then rushed outside.

For the next few days, I'd prayed that if I had swallowed a spider, it wasn't a poisonous one. By the end of the week, I was still alive, so I decided to start visiting Miss Lindsay again.

Now, being a little wiser, I was always hopeful, but ever cautious, of her cakes. I never ate the cake in front of her again. I'd just thank her and then run out into the bush, where I'd carefully pull the cake apart before placing any in my mouth. I don't know why I kept going back, because every cake she gave me had cobwebs inside. I guess I thought I'd have to get a good one off her, eventually. I kept going back, she kept giving me cake and they always had cobwebs in them. I hate to think how old they must have been. It was a long time before I gave up. I loved food that much.

I was really pleased when Miss Button returned from her trip. She only ever had very plain biscuits, but at least they were fresh.

At the opposite end of the Home to where Sister Fanny lived was the farm. Mr Pratt lived there, another of my favourite old people, not because of food though, but because he had a horse and buggy. The horse was called Timmy, he was big and black and beautiful. When he was attached to the buggy, he'd strut like a rooster, waiting to be admired and stroked. He was Mr Pratt's pride and joy, nobody else was allowed to ride him.

The old farmhouse was very tumbled down. Climbing roses had gone wild and covered most of the front yard, junk covered most of the back. Rusty machinery, tins, harnesses, old sheets of iron. If you needed anything at all, you could find it at the farmhouse.

The older boys went over there regularly to milk the cows. We used to follow them. We'd lay back on the bales of straw in the milking shed and beg the boys to squirt us with milk. I had my mouth open all the time, it was lovely, feeling that warm, creamy milk shoot in and down your throat. It really warmed you up on a cold day.

Whenever Mr Pratt did the garden at George Turner, I'd follow him around, continually chatting about this and that. I liked talking to grown-ups, and he was a darling old fellow.

One day, I was playing chasey with the others on the road, when someone yelled that I was wanted. I walked up the wooden steps and onto the verandah, little Faye was there, looking scared. ‘Moore's in an awful temper,' she said, ‘what have you done?' I mothered little Faye, she relied on me and I knew she was worried about me.

‘I'll be all right,' I replied. I patted her head and walked inside.

‘Where's that bloody kid?' I could hear Miss Moore screaming from the kitchen. What had I done? When I saw her, her face was contorted with rage.

She grabbed me by the arm and started belting me across the head. It was nothing new, she'd given me beltings before. Sometimes, she hit me so much I'd go deaf for a couple of days.

She dragged me towards the large clothes cupboard. I started to cry, I didn't know what I'd done wrong. ‘Get your clothes, you stupid girl,' she screamed. I was so upset, my eyes were too full of tears to see my clothes. I grabbed at a dress and she hit me again and shouted. ‘Your good clothes.' The she started shaking me and screaming that I had to be ready in fifteen minutes to go in the car. Where was I going? I felt very frightened, were they sending me away? What about my mother, would I ever see her again? I started to tremble and shake all over.

Miss Moore called out to Pat, my friend, to come and help me get my clothes out. I knew all the other kids would be outside listening to the goings-on. They kept out of reach when Miss Moore's temper was aroused. I tried to stop myself from crying, but I couldn't. I started to sob. ‘Stop crying,' she shouted, ‘I didn't hurt you!'

She sent me to the bathroom to dress and wash my face. I managed to get my clothes on, then I splashed my face with cold water, but I still couldn't stop crying. Everything had happened so suddenly, I didn't know what I'd done wrong. I wanted to vomit. I heard the car toot loudly out the front. Miss Moore hauled me out, picked up my bag of clothes and took me to the car, ‘Stop snivelling,' she said, ‘you didn't do anything wrong.'

I hopped in the front next to Willie, the driver, Sister Dora sat in the back. Willie started up the engine, then glanced down to me and said kindly, ‘Don't cry any more, your mother will be all right.' I was really frightened then.

When we arrived at Ivanhoe, Alice Drake-Brockman took me to where my mother was lying in bed on the balcony. She looked terrible, her eyes were closed, I thought she was dead. I went to race towards her, but Alice restrained me and said, ‘Ssssh, she's asleep.' I tiptoed over and touched my mother's hand, which was resting on the white coverlet. She opened her eyes, tears trickled down her face, she squeezed my hand.

The following day, she told me what had happened. They'd taken my Aunty, Helen Bunda, to hospital, but her appendix had
burst and there was nothing they could do. They'd asked my mother to give blood. They'd taken the first lot, but it had jelled through carelessness, so they'd taken some more. ‘They nearly killed me,' she whispered, ‘I'll never go to hospital again.'

I asked her about Aunty Helen and she said, ‘Aunty Helen died. The doctor didn't care. You see, Gladdie, we're nothing, just nothing.' I felt very sad, and sort of hopeless. I didn't want to be just nothing.

I stayed at Ivanhoe a week. When the others were asleep, I would sneak into bed with my mother. She'd cuddle me, with silent tears wet on her cheeks. She seemed so unhappy that I'd cry too, loving the comfort of her arms, yet sad at her tears.

I was upset that Aunty was dead, but I was glad Mum was getting better. Alice was very cross with the hospital. She made my mother eat to get her strength back.

One day, when Mum was lying propped up on the pillows, the men from the
Daily News
arrived to take her photo. We were all very excited when we got the paper. Judy showed Mum her photo and then read the article out to her. It said how she'd nearly sacrificed her life to save her cousin's and how brave she was. I felt very proud.

Everybody knew what had happened when I went back to Parkerville, some of the kids had seen my mother's picture in the paper. Miss Moore patted my shoulder and said she was pleased to see me back, but I couldn't look at her after the way she'd treated me. I felt betrayed.

It wasn't long after that that Mr Pratt's horse, Timmy, died. I was playing in the garden when Mr Pratt rode by with the buggy and Timmy. I ran up to the fence and waved madly at him, he waved back.

Suddenly, one of the wheels of the buggy caught in a rut in the road, the buggy overturned and poor Timmy fell and broke his leg. I screamed when I saw it happen, there was Timmy lying on his side in the dirt.

Mr Pratt gently undid the harness and talked to him in a loving way to keep him calm. Miss Moore came out and pulled me inside. She said I wasn't to go out until she said I could. Later, I heard the sound of a gunshot ring out and I knew Timmy was dead.

A few days afterwards, Mr Pratt was climbing a ladder at the farmhouse, when he suddenly fell to the ground, dead. I've always thought that the loss of Timmy was too much for him to bear.

***

Easter was always a special time for me, I considered Good Friday the saddest day of the year. I couldn't understand how anyone could do such a horrible thing as to kill Jesus.

We'd attend church in the morning and it'd be stripped bare, except for a large cross on which was pinned the brass body of Jesus. The cross was positioned in front of the altar, and above the alter was a huge glass window which opened to the sky.

After the service, we'd all file out solemnly. On the way back to George Turner, we'd pass some of the graves of the early pioneers and that made Good Friday seem even more depressing.

Once we were back at the house, we weren't allowed to play or make a noise, it was a day of solemnity.

Easter Sunday would change all that, we'd have a special midday dinner and an Easter egg. Kids who had relatives usually got visitors who brought more Easter eggs. My mother usually came to see me and brought me an egg. It was a really happy day and I'd feel good because Jesus was alive again.

In the May holidays, I usually went to Ivanhoe. Willie would drive me down to Perth and I'd be met by Alice.

I was always pleased to see my mother and really excited that I was going to be with her for two whole weeks. She'd give me a hug and then take me into the kitchen for a glass of milk and a piece of cake.

I loved Ivanhoe and I really loved Judy, who was so beautiful,
and she always made a fuss of me. She liked to dress me up, but I'd cry when she insisted on putting big satin bows in my hair. I didn't want to look like Shirley Temple.

I remember one holiday at Ivanhoe when I was very upset. I was in the kitchen with my mother. She had her usual white apron on and was bustling around when Alice came in with June. I couldn't take my eyes off June. She had the most beautiful doll in her arms. It had golden hair and blue eyes and was dressed in satin and lace. I was so envious, I wished it was mine. It reminded me of a princess.