A Prayer for Blue Delaney (23 page)
‘Oi,’ said Joe, nudging Colm with his foot. ‘Where’s Blue?’
‘She did her block and stormed off,’ said Colm. ‘I said something she didn’t like and it made her mad.’
Joe laughed. ‘You’re a good man, Colm. Whatever you said, she probably needed to hear it. But we’ll bring her round, you and me. You can’t be expected to take care of Blue all on your own.’
‘She thinks she’s taking care of me,’ said Colm.
Joe laughed. ‘Well, that’s what all the girls like to think, especially the difficult ones. But it’s the difficult ones that are worth keeping hold of, even if they are prickly. So what’s the hard truth that she didn’t want to hear?’
Twenty minutes later, Colm sat on the steps of the flat, waiting. Joe was inside, talking to Blue, and Colm felt a weight of responsibility slide off his shoulders. No one had ever told him having a mother could be such hard work.
‘Okay, Colm,’ said Joe, opening the door of the flat and calling down. ‘Grab your coat. You’re going for a drive.’
No one spoke on the way to the hospital. Colm could feel Blue’s resistance but Joe dropped Colm and Blue outside and then sped off into the night.
‘It’s not visiting hours,’ said Blue.
‘We’re here now,’ said Colm, taking her hand and threading it through his arm. They walked up the steps of the hospital together.
‘Visiting hours are over. And Colm knows that children aren’t allowed in the rooms or on the wards,’ said the matron at the desk.
‘Oh for chrissake. Not this again. He’s not a child. He’s a dwarf,’ said Blue, viciously. The Matron looked startled but she let them through without another word of protest.
Colm felt his heart sink when they walked into the room. Bill seemed even worse than the last time Colm had seen him. His skin was translucent and there was a faraway look in his sunken eyes.
‘Grandad?’ said Colm, touching Bill’s hand. ‘We’re both here with you now. Me and Blue.’
‘Blue and my cobber,’ said Bill, smiling weakly.
Blue stood a little way away from them. Colm turned around and frowned at her.
‘Don’t you look at me like that, Colm McCabe. I’m here, aren’t I?’
‘Stand here,’ said Colm, ‘Where he can see you.’
Blue edged a little closer to the bed and Bill smiled.
‘My little Bridie,’ he said.
Blue put her hand to her mouth, as if to stop herself from saying something she would regret. Then all of a sudden she was crying, her arms folded across her chest as if to shelter herself from attack.
‘Come here, chickadee,’ said Bill. Slowly, without unfolding, Blue lay down on the bed beside her father. He put his arms around her and stroked her hair. For a moment Bill seemed to rally, turning his face towards her as if basking in sunlight.
‘Blue,’ was all he said but the word was full of love.
Colm stepped away, walking backwards quietly until he reached the door.
‘Don’t go, cobber,’ said Bill slowly. ‘Stay. Blue needs you. Stick together. Delaney and McCabe - a team.’
They sat by his bed all night. Colm fell asleep in his chair with his head resting on the side of the bed. He woke in the small hours of the morning. Bill’s breathing had changed. Blue had fallen asleep too and her thick red hair was spread out across the bed. Colm touched the old man’s hands but they had no warmth in them.
‘Blue, wake up,’ he said.
She rubbed her eyes, took in the situation, and then got to her feet. ‘I’ll get the nurse.’
Colm knelt down on the cold linoleum and prayed for Bill. If he could just pray harder, if he could just get God to listen to him and let Bill stay longer . . . He laid his head on the side of the bed and tried to tip his prayers out of his body and into the room. He could see the life seeping out of the old man. Where was it going? — all that life force, all that energy, all that rough magic? Colm looked up at the hollow face on the pillow and knew that Billy Dare was slipping away from him.
‘Grandad,’ he said. ‘Grandad. Please don’t be dead.’
But Billy Dare was gone.
The funeral procession moved slowly along the gravel paths of the cemetery. Colm felt as if it should be raining, but it was a bright, sunny morning and the sun streamed down on the mourners and the grey tombstones in a burst of summer warmth. The procession stopped on a rise at the top of the cemetery. There was a gum tree nearby, a lone conifer and a mound of freshly turned soil.
Colm didn’t know any of the old performers from Billy Dare’s theatre days that flocked to the cemetery. He stood a little away from everyone. He felt out of place and alone, as if he were back on the wharves of Fremantle with nowhere to turn.
One old man had brought a violin with him, and he played it as the pallbearers lowered Billy into the grave. When Colm heard the music, he pulled out his harmonica and joined in, playing sweet and low under the melody of the violin. One by one, the mourners approached the open grave and threw in flowers or a handful of dirt. Each time the soil hit the coffin, Colm felt the sound reverberate through his whole body. When the violinist’s tune came to an end, Colm wanted to play on. He didn’t want the music to stop, as if the silence would swallow them all. He shut his eyes and played every tune Billy Dare had ever taught him. He played the long slow ballads and the jigs that Billy Dare had hummed as they drove across the heart of the country. He played all the songs he’d listened to at night, alone in Blue’s flat, from ‘Just Walking in the Rain’ to ‘Love Me Tender’. He played while the mourners drifted away, until only Blue and Joe were left, waiting for him to finish.
Finally Blue put her hand on his arm.
‘Colm,’ she said softly. ‘It’s time to go.’
Colm bent down to pick up a flower, a small daisy that one of the mourners had dropped. He let it spiral into the grave. It landed softly, white against the brown earth.
Keith hadn’t come to the funeral, but he called by the flat later in the afternoon and dragged Colm down to the Crystal to swim. There was no one else but the two boys and a flock of seagulls that circled above them. Colm turned onto his back and felt the sun beat down on his bare chest. With his eyes shut, he could imagine floating for ever. It was only when someone grabbed him by the ankle that he remembered Keith’s presence.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Keith awkwardly.
‘You don’t have to say anything but I’m glad you’re here,’ said Colm.
They floated on their backs, side by side, on the gentle swell of the sea.
In the evening, Blue went down to the fish-and-chip shop while Joe and Colm walked to the end of the pier and watched the sun sink low over the bay.
‘You’re allowed to be sad about your grandad dying,’ said Joe.
‘He wasn’t my grandad really,’ said Colm. Tf he was really my grandad, then I’d be Blue’s son or at least her nephew.’
‘You’re important to her, mate. She’s changed since you’ve come to Melbourne.’
‘But everything’s dark. I can’t see the future. I can’t see what’s going to happen next.’
Joe turned Colm to face him and looked hard into his eyes. ‘Look at it this way, mate, life is a little bit like the Olympic Games. You know how they light the flame to start, light it from a ray of sunshine all the way over in Greece? Then they guard that flame and make sure it stays alight, no matter what, they keep that flame burning until the last race is run. And when they’re running, those athletes aren’t enemies, they’re brothers. You think John Landy minded when Ron Delaney beat him? I saw him shake his hand.’
Joe took hold of Colm’s hand and shook it so vigorously that Colm’s shoulder hurt.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Colm, rubbing his shoulder.
‘Well, you and Blue, you’re on the same team but sometimes you both act like you’re on opposite sides. She’s trying to keep that flame alight too.’ He tapped Colm hard in the middle of his chest. ‘Inside you, there’s a flame and you gotta keep it burning bright. For you, for Blue, for your old grandad. That’s what he would have wanted. For both of you.
Capiche?
’
Colm put his hand over his chest and felt his own heart beating beneath. He tried to imagine a flame inside him, a flame so big it would keep the darkness at bay for ever.
After Joe had left, Blue and Colm sat on the floor of the flat surrounded by open suitcases. With Bill’s death, a flood of letters had arrived from old acquaintances along with an assortment of trunks that he had left stored with friends. There were so many bits and pieces, trinkets and treasures. Colm picked up a carved wooden spoon and turned it over in his hands.
‘What’s this?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered Blue. ‘Annie Mahoney gave it to Mum and Dad as a wedding present. I’ve got no idea why. Some "in" joke. There were so many stories they never told me. But come and have a look at this. This was my mum’s.’
Colm knelt beside her and she spread a leather-bound scrapbook out in front of him. It was full of clippings, pictures and theatre programs. Every page was crammed with words and images. Some of the items had little notes written underneath them in elegant handwriting. Colm turned the pages of the scrapbook with curiosity. On one page was a flyer advertising a performance. The star of the show had a strangely familiar face but Colm couldn’t quite place it.
‘That’s not Grandad, is it?’ he asked.
‘Sure is. He was a big star before the Depression.’ She turned the page and there was another picture of a dashing young man. ‘See, here he is on the cover of
Theatre Magazine.
That was just after he’d starred in
Star of the North.
I was tiny but I still remember how exciting it was. Me and Clancy and Mum, we always had the box near the stage. Dad was the hero, of course. He never played second fiddle to anyone. I think that made it even harder for him when Mum became so famous. They both needed to be centre stage. They were such a pair of show-offs.’
On the next page was a glamorous, dark-haired woman with piercing eyes. ‘That’s Mum. She was a Tivoli girl to start. That’s how she met Dad, though they’d known each other when they were kids and then lost touch. They met up again after the first war, got hitched, had me and Clance. But they could never agree on anything. Not even what their last name should be. Dad wanted Mum and us to be Dares but Mum insisted we were all called Delaney because when she first met Dad his name was Patrick Delaney. They were such a fiery twosome.’
‘Did they get a divorce?’ asked Colm.
‘God, no. They were crazy about each other, even if it was hard for them to live together all the time. Anyway, neither of them believed in divorce.’
‘I heard Grandad tell Mrs Mahoney that Violet was the only girl for him.’
Blue smiled. ‘Good on him. That would have stuck in Annie’s craw. She was always jealous of Mum. Dad might have been king of melodrama but Mum wound up being the big star in vaudeville. That’s when Dad dragged Clancy off with him on the road. And I got stuck tagging around after Mum.’
Colm turned over the pages of the scrapbook. There were pictures of Violet everywhere - Violet in Britain, Violet taking America by storm, Violet as Australia’s sweetheart. And then one small newspaper clipping of Violet and a small girl standing shyly beside her, clutching the hem of her gown.
‘Why didn’t you become a singer like your mum?’ asked Colm. ‘You have the best voice.’
Blue laughed. ‘I loved the theatre world, but it wasn’t my world. If I’d gone into it, I’d always be in Mum’s shadow. The New Theatre, that’s my sort of place. I like ideas, Colm. Ideas about how people should live in the world, ideas about what’s important and how we can live in peace. The razzle-dazzle, it’s fine for some, but it’s not me.’
Blue shut the big scrapbook and Colm helped her pack away all the paraphernalia of her parents’ lives.
‘Guess I ought to add this to the scrapbook,’ said Blue, taking a silver-and-blue envelope off the kitchen table and bringing it into the untidy sitting room.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s two invites to
The Olympic Follies.
That big production at the Tivoli.’
’The Olympic Follies?
Keith saw that and thought it was beaut,’ said Colm.
‘They were hoping Dad would be around for it when they sent it.’
‘You should go!’ said Colm. ‘Brother Jack reckons we should all be more like Olympic athletes and have team spirit. You know, friendly and supporting each other’s events. That’s what he reckoned it meant when all the teams walked in together for the closing ceremony. He said we have to put aside our differences.’
Blue rolled her eyes. ‘Like those Hungarian and Russian water polo players did when they beat each other senseless in the pool? Hmmm? And Brother Jack is a fine one to talk. Look what the bloody Catholics have done to the Labor Party, splitting it right down the middle.’
‘Joe says . . .’ began Colm.
‘Oh you and Joe with all your philosophising. What do either of you know about politics? The pair of you drive me crazy.’
But then she tweaked Colm’s cheek and he knew she wasn’t really cross with him.
Maybe they were on the same side after all.
On the evening of the show, Colm met Blue at a tearoom near the Tivoli and they shared a plate of sandwiches. Well-dressed people were crowding into the theatre foyer. Blue elbowed her way through the crowd to where an old woman stood at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Hello Auntie Kate,’ said Blue. ‘Colm, this is Mrs Kate Whiteley. A very old friend of your Grandad’s. Auntie Kate, this is my nephew, Colm.’
‘I never knew Clancy had a son!’ Mrs Whiteley held out her gloved hand for Colm to take and he glanced across at Blue, wondering what she was thinking.
‘In the early days, I watched your gran dance at the Tivoli,’ said Mrs Whiteley. ‘She used to hoof the boards with my Vera. Who would have thought I’d outlive them both?’
Blue tried to steer the conversation onto more cheerful subjects.
‘Mrs Whiteley’s son, Harry, he’s organised for the show to be televised tonight.’
‘You mean we’re going to be on television!’ said Colm.
‘I think it’s the show they’re interested in, not us,’ said Blue.
