Our Australian Girl (12 page)

Here's a sneak peek at Meet Lina

L
INA
woke to the sound of the old rooster crowing in the backyard. It can't be morning already! she thought, peering out through the curtains at the velvety grey sky. In the distance she could hear the rumble of the delivery trucks on Lygon Street and the clip-clopping of the milkman with his horse and cart.

Time for chores, I guess. Sighing, she quickly slipped a jumper over her nightdress and, standing barefoot on the freezing linoleum floor, teeth chattering, hunted for a pair of warm socks in the chest of drawers she shared with her grandmother.

At the back door, Lina pulled on a pair of her father's work boots and the padded jacket that had once belonged to her brother. Her older brothers were already outside doing their chores in the long narrow garden of their terrace house in Carlton. In the pale morning light she could just make out the hunched-over shape of her eldest brother, Pierino, turning over the frosted earth around the broad beans and broccoli.

Lina fed the chickens then marched back to the house, stomping her feet against the cold. She prised off her muddy boots and went inside. The stove was on and the kitchen was warm and Lina could smell the oily metallic smell of her father's work clothes. Dad must be home, she thought. Sure enough, her father stood at the sink, scrub-scrub-scrubbing at the grease compacted under his nails. No amount of soap could ever completely bring back the smell he'd had before he began working at the car plant – of olives and sunshine and coffee.

‘Hey,
cara mia
,' Lina's father said wearily. ‘How you doing this morning?'

‘Good thanks, Papa,' Lina said, leaning in to receive a kiss.

‘Mama's already left?'

Lina nodded. ‘And Nonna's in the garden.'

‘You make me a coffee, love?'

‘Sure,' said Lina. ‘Aren't you going to bed?'

Lina's father gave her a slow cheeky smile. ‘You think I forget? Today is your assembly performance, no?' His eyes crinkled at the corners.

‘Oh,' said Lina, her cheeks stinging pink. ‘That. I didn't mean you had to come and watch, Papa. It's not important. Kids read stuff out in assembly all the time.'

Her father's face dropped into a frown. ‘You sounded like it was important the other day.'

Lina's cheeks burned hotter. She wished she hadn't mentioned it at dinner last week. ‘I know, but you're tired, Papa. You've worked all night . . .' Lina's voice petered out. How could she tell him she really didn't want him to come? With his grease-stained hands and his shabby suit jacket and thick Italian accent. What if the girls at school made fun of him?

It's not that I don't love him, Lina told herself. Lina loved her father so much that sometimes she felt her heart might burst. I just don't want to stand out any more than I have to – than I already do, she thought desperately.

Lina hung her head and a lie crept out over her lips. ‘Actually, it's been cancelled. I just remembered. They only told us yesterday. They said they weren't doing performances in assembly anymore.' Her voice came out ashamed and small.

Lina's father stood quietly for a while, his hands still foamy in the sink. ‘All right, love,' he said slowly. ‘Another time. Go wake your little brother and I'll be off to bed, then.'

Lina slunk down the corridor, relieved to escape her father's eyes, but with a cold dark lump of badness lodged in her gut. She slipped into the stuffy dimness of her brothers' bedroom and jerked back the curtains.

‘Get up,' Lina told the pile of blankets.

Lina's little brother, Enzo, peeked his sleepy face out of the muddle. He stuck out his arms towards Lina. ‘Cuddle?' he said in a baby voice, but Lina wasn't in the mood. She pulled his clothes off the chair and tossed them onto the bed.

‘Up, Enzo!' she repeated.

Enzo sat up obediently, blinking. Lina huffed and yanked his pyjama top over his head.

‘Ouch!' Enzo squeaked and scrunched up his forehead. He rubbed his eyes with his fists. Despite her grumpy mood, Lina couldn't hold herself back from giving him a cuddle. He was so warm and soft in the mornings, with his skinny white arms sticking out of his singlet like sticks of spaghetti. Enzo squeezed Lina tight and she buried her face in his downy neck, and as she did, she felt that black lump in her stomach soften and melt away.

‘Thanks, Enzo,' she whispered in his ear. Then she tickled him until he squealed. ‘Come on! Nonna will spank you if you're late for breakfast.'

Lina helped Enzo put on his clothes then chased him down the corridor.

When they entered the kitchen, Nonna was already busy, kneading the dough for the evening's
zeppoli
, up to her elbows in flour.

At the other end of the wooden table, there were three neat bundles tied up in Papa's big cotton handkerchiefs. Lina took a peek at her lunch for the day. Inside was a hunk of crusty white bread, a wedge of Parmesan cheese and a hard-boiled egg. ‘Nonna! I told you I can't take Parmesan to school anymore,' Lina complained. ‘The girls don't like it. They say it smells like vomit.'

‘Rubbish,' said Nonna, kneading furiously. ‘They don't even know what is cheese. They eat that yellow plastic stuff they call cheese. That's not cheese. You eat what I give you, all right? Here,' she said, wiping her floury hands on her apron. ‘Take your
zio
his coffee and tell him to get up. He's not going to find a job in bed!' Nonna handed Lina a tiny white cup of steaming black liquid.

Never mind, thought Lina. I'll just throw out the cheese on my way to school and tell Miss Spring I forgot my lunch again. Getting in trouble is still better than that horrible Sarah Buttersworth telling everyone I vomited in my school bag. Lina breathed in the coffee fumes and wrapped her cold hands around the cup. How can coffee smell so good when it tastes so awful? she wondered. And Parmesan smell so awful when it tastes so good?

Lina walked down the hallway and knocked on the door of the room where her uncle slept. Before he had arrived from Italy, three months ago, this had been the sitting room. Now the only place to sit was in the kitchen or at the long wooden table outside, under the grapevines. In winter it was too cold to sit out there and the vines were spindly and bare, but in summer they became a dappled green shelter, dripping with plump ruby and emerald fruit, like clumps of sweet jewels.

Lina knocked again and when there was no reply, she pushed the door open a crack. ‘Zio!' she called quietly into the dark. ‘Your coffee.'

Lina could just make out the shadowy bulk of her uncle asleep on the couch under a mound of flowery bedclothes. ‘Zio,' she called again, a little louder, but not so loud that she might wake her father, who had just got into bed. Her uncle's only response was a snuffle and a snort, then one arm snaked out from under the blankets and waved towards the dresser. Lina frowned and plonked the little cup onto the furniture by the door. ‘Drink it cold then,' she hissed under her breath.

Lina closed the door and hurried back into the warm kitchen, where Enzo was dipping bread into a bowl of hot milk. Lina helped herself to a chunk of old bread and dropped it into a bowl. Then she took the saucepan of milk from the stove and poured it over the bread to soften it.

Pierino stomped into the kitchen, school bag slung over his shoulder, shirt ironed into sharp creases. ‘Aren't you even dressed yet?' he growled at Lina. ‘It's nearly seven o'clock. You'll miss your bus!' He picked up the lunch Nonna had prepared for him and allowed her to kiss him on both cheeks.

Lina frowned and shoved the last bit of wet bread into her mouth. ‘I'm nearly ready,' she grumbled. ‘You don't have to
nag
me. You're not the boss, you know!' She wiped her hands on her nightdress and carried her bowl to the sink.

‘Well, if you were ready quicker I wouldn't have to keep nagging you,' Pierino insisted.

‘I've been catching the bus to school all year and haven't been late once. Or missed a single day,' said Lina.

‘It's true,' Nonna piped up, taking Lina's side. ‘Not like this one.' She gestured towards Bruno who had just sauntered through the doorway. ‘Look at you!' she moaned. ‘I iron your shirt yesterday and already it's full of creases. Why can't you stay clean like your brother, huh?' She shook her head despairingly.

Bruno grinned and pinched Lina's arm as she pushed past.

‘Ow!' she yelled, but more to get him into trouble than out of pain.

‘Bruno!' Nonna scolded, right on cue.

Lina giggled as she dashed down the hallway and pulled her school uniform out of Nonna's wardrobe. Unlike Bruno, who hated the stiff shirt and heavy shoes of his uniform, Lina loved her navy pleated skirt and crisp white shirt, and wore them with pride. She dressed quickly and pulled her dark hair back into a high ponytail, tied with a navy ribbon. I hope I won't be too nervous in assembly this morning, she thought as she took a quick peek in the brown-speckled mirror on Nonna's dresser. She grabbed her hat and gloves from the hook on the back of the door, slung her leather satchel over her shoulder and ran to kiss Enzo and Nonna goodbye.

Here's a sneak peek at Meet Pearlie

‘O
H
, peanuts!' Pearlie cried, clutching her satchel to her chest to protect it from the rain that had just started falling. She didn't want the precious thing inside to get wet.

In seconds her clothes were drenched, but it was warm rain. And just like that, the dark cloud passed and out came the morning sun. This was ‘the wet' in far north Australia.

Pearlie splashed through the puddles in her bare feet. She rarely wore shoes. What was the point when they'd only get ruined?

A platoon of soldiers marched along the street towards her. Pearlie had seen more and more troops landing in Darwin lately. And fighter planes, too. She smiled when she heard the soldiers' American accents. Just like the actors on the picture shows at the Star Theatre, she thought.

Pearlie's best friend, Naoko, liked the handsome cowboy Hop along Cassidy best of all the movie stars, while Pearlie's favourite was Hoppy's horse, Topper. Oh, how I'd love my own horse, she thought. Or a dog. Or any animal, really. She sighed. But she
was
saving up for one. Mum had said she could get a dog if she paid for it with her own money.

A loud explosion made Pearlie jump and the air around her head throbbed. She looked up and saw a plume of smoke above the trees.

A passing soldier patted her on the shoulder. ‘Don't be scared, little girl,' he said. ‘It's just one of them anti-aircraft guns practising for when they might need to shoot down enemy planes.' He winked at her and marched on to join the others as the white smoke drifted over the town and blew out to sea.

Pearlie walked through the school gate and up the steps of the main building onto a wide verandah. When she reached her classroom, Naoko was already sitting in the double desk they shared. Naoko had moved from Broome to Darwin three years before, and on the first day of school Miss Lyon had sat her next to Pearlie. From that moment on, they were hardly ever apart. It was as if they were twins, they felt so close.

But they were different in lots of ways, too. In Pearlie's family there was a mix of backgrounds–some Aboriginal from way back, Scottish, Macassan, and maybe Afghan, her mum said. And Pearlie's dad was full-blooded Chinese. Naoko's family were all Japanese, and her dad was a fisherman. She was an only child, whereas Pearlie had a baby brother, and Naoko was taller than Pearlie, with hair cut short like a boy's. Naoko said that long hair only got in the way when you wanted to climb trees or crawl into burrows. She was louder and more adventurous than Pearlie, who often felt quiet and shy.

‘I brought something for the scrapbook,' Pearlie said, slipping into her seat. Their scrapbook, which was hidden in Naoko's bedroom, was where they kept their most special things. Pearlie put her school bag on the desk and took out a ruler, eraser, four pencils, two peanut toffee slices–one for Naoko and one for her–and a soggy exercise book.

Naoko leaned forward curiously to see what Pearlie had brought to show her.

Pearlie shook the pages of her book and a dead butterfly fluttered onto the desk, deep brown with pale pink spots on its wings and tiny white dots on its black body.

‘I found it lying in the backyard,' Pearlie said, picking it up gently and laying it on her palm. ‘Butterflies only live for a few weeks as adults. Isn't it beautiful? It's for you.'

‘It's perfect,' Naoko whispered. ‘I've never seen one this close up before. Wow, look at its furry body.' She smiled at Pearlie. ‘You've taught me to pay attention to the small things.'

As Naoko slid the butterfly between the pages of her own exercise book Pearlie saw a glint in her eye. She knew that look! ‘What are you up to, Nao?' she asked.

Naoko leant across to Pearlie. ‘You know the place where we found the giant seabird skeleton?' she whispered.

‘Near the big gun on the cliff by the point?'

Naoko nodded. ‘Well, my dad's friend was on his boat the other day and he saw the cliff collapse into the sea. But here's the exciting part. When the dust cleared there was a cave. A brand new cave.' Naoko's eyes shone even more brightly. ‘Just think, Pearlie. We could be the first explorers inside it! We have to go there before anyone else does.'

‘I don't know, Nao. It could be dangerous. What if it caves in some more and –'

‘That's what makes it more exciting . . . the
danger
,' Naoko said.

It was true that since Pearlie had met Naoko they'd been on many adventures together. I fit was the small things that Pearlie had taught Naoko to notice, it was the big adventurous things that Naoko had shown Pearlie.

‘We'll go on Saturday,' Naoko said without waiting for Pearlie to agree.

‘Ow!' Pearlie and Naoko cried out as their skulls bumped together. Someone had come up behind and pushed them.

Of course it was Dulcie McBride, the meanest girl who ever walked the streets of Darwin. Pearlie watched her stroll away, her blonde ponytail, her pride and joy, swinging from side to side like a well-trained pet.

Pearlie rubbed her forehead and Naoko glared at Dulcie as she sat down in the back row next to Peggy. Dulcie poked out her tongue. Her gang of ‘snow whites' gathered around and laughed at them. Snow white was Dulcie's name for anybody who wasn't coloured, like Pearlie and Naoko and almost half the school. Darwin was made up of many kinds of people of different races, and they all mixed together–all except Dulcie and her gang. She was from Sydney and she'd moved up when her dad got an important job with the Northern Territory government. That's why she thought she was better than everyone else. She said Darwin was full of country bumpkins.

‘I'll get her back one day,' said Naoko.

The bell rang and their teacher, Miss Lyon, entered. Everyone loved Miss Lyon, who was very pretty with light-brown curly hair. She had come up from the south, from Adelaide, where she said things were very stylish and fashionable. But she wasn't a snob like Dulcie. Today she had on a blue dress with tiny yellow flowers, which Pearlie thought was beautiful.

She watched as Miss Lyon unfurled the giant canvas map of the world. Pearlie loved learning about other parts of the world. Once she'd found a bottle washed up onto Mindil Beach. The thick green glass had foreign writing etched into its surface. Where had it come from? she'd wondered. Who was the last person to touch the bottle? Pearlie had written a story about it for the scrapbook. Naoko had done the drawings.

The Australian soldiers were off fighting overseas and Pearlie often tried to imagine what they were seeing. Was the sky the same? The clouds? Were there hills? Or was it flat, like the Territory? The stars would certainly be different.

‘One day I'm going to visit some of those countries,' she whispered to Naoko.

‘I thought you loved Darwin and wanted to stay here,' Naoko replied.

‘Oh, I'll always come back. I'm born, bred and buttered here,' Pearlie said. ‘But I still want to see the world.'

With her long wooden stick, Miss Lyon pointed to France and told them about Paris, the capital city. ‘There's a tower there made of grey steel that reaches up to the sky,' she said. Then she showed them Australia and the huge distance between the two countries. ‘It takes months by ship to get there,' she told them. ‘And now there's a war . . . '

‘And all our soldiers are over there in Europe,' Reddy finished.

Miss Lyon nodded. ‘They're needed by the Queen to help the British troops. And so we're happy to have the American soldiers here in Darwin to help
us
.'

‘So America is Australia's new friend?' asked Flora.

‘The Americans are also watching out incase Japan attacks us–or any of the countries in the Pacific,' said Dulcie in a know-it-all voice. ‘My dad told me all about it.'

Pearlie and Naoko looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

‘Excuse me, children,' Miss Lyon said, her voice trembling, and turned away.

She'd once told them that her fiancé was over in Europe fighting. The war had been going for two years and Germany had invaded so many countries, including France. Britain was leading the fight to try and stop them, which was why Australian soldiers were over there helping. And Dulcie was right –Japan was in the war too, now. Almost every country was.

It made Pearlie think about her dad. Japan had bombed and killed many people in China, and her dad had been so worried about his own mother and father, who were in their home village in Canton. He'd not heard a word from them in several years. She couldn't imagine what that would be like. Pearlie had never met her Chinese grandparents but she'd seen photos of them.

Miss Lyon looked pale and sat down on the chair at her desk. ‘I received a telegram this morning,' she said. ‘My fiancé, Tim, is in a hospital in England.' A tear rolled down her cheek.

There was silence. Nobody had ever seen a teacher cry before. Most of them had never seen a grown-up cry. Pearlie and Naoko looked at each other, not knowing what to do. Pearlie felt the familiar bubbles of fear in her stomach. Sometimes it seemed like there were so many things to be afraid of. But she loved Miss Lyon. Even though Pearlie's knees shook a little, she stood up.

She took a clean handkerchief from her bag. It was the one with hand-embroidered birds that her Por Por, her grandma in China, had sent her when she was born.

Pearlie walked up to Miss Lyon and held the handkerchief out to her.

Miss Lyon looked up at Pearlie with teary eyes. ‘Thank you, dear,' she said.

‘I hope he gets well soon, Miss Lyon,' Pearlie said, and returned to her seat, feeling a tiny bit braver.

For the rest of the day, even the naughty boys were good. And no one complained when Miss Lyon gave them homework.