Beneath the Southern Cross (53 page)

‘She's calling for Caroline,' Bev babbled, hysteria once more mounting. ‘She wants Caroline.'

‘Don't be stupid, woman, look at her. She's going to have a baby any minute.'

‘I'm coming with you,' Caroline said.

‘No, you're not, you're staying here,' and Gene half-carried, half-dragged Bev into the street.

It was a sordid, dingy little room. Peeling paint, naked lightbulb, bed in one corner, not much else. It was a room prostitutes used. Or drug addicts. Or backstreet abortionists. The landlord owned many such rooms and hired them out for a standard fee.

Bev had had an abortion in a room just like this, and it had worked out all right for her. But it was the luck of the draw they said, and it hadn't worked out all right for Ada.

Gene was sickened by the sight. Ada was lying on the bed, her legs splayed, wearing her chemise and nothing more, her torso propped up by pillows, and a plastic sheet spread beneath her. The sheet was draped over the bed-end, forming a pool to catch the blood and the aborted foetus. She was unconscious. Or dead.

‘He said it wouldn't take long,' Bev babbled. ‘We just had to wait, that's what he said. But it wouldn't stop. The bleeding wouldn't stop …'

Gene gathered Ada up in his arms. She gained consciousness as he did so, mumbling, ‘Caroline, where's Caroline?'

‘She'll be with you soon, Ada, don't you worry.'

Bev remained at the door, still babbling. ‘It's not supposed to happen like this, he said …'

Gene elbowed the woman out of the way and clambered down the narrow, darkened stairwell, holding Ada's head protectively to his shoulder.

‘St Vincent's,' he said to the taxi driver who'd been waiting for them to return.

‘Hey, steady on, mate, you can't put her in here.' The woman was covered in blood. The taxi driver had seen it all before in Kings Cross, and he wanted no part in this.

‘I said St Vincent's Hospital, you bastard!'

The driver took one look at Gene, hedged his bets and drove, as fast as he could.

 

Caroline pulled the chair up beside the hospital bed. Ada had survived, although the doctor said that if Gene had not arrived when he did, she would most certainly have died from the loss of blood.

‘She's one of the lucky ones,' he told Gene and Caroline. ‘Half of these wretched backstreet jobs leave them either dead or infertile, but there's no reason why Miss Bird should not bear children in the future.'

Caroline drew the curtains around Ada's bed to give them some privacy from the other five women in the six-bed ward, all of whom were middle-aged and were peering at them curiously. The women had gossiped amongst themselves when Ada had been brought in from surgery several days previously and, from the respectable security of their hysterectomies and prolapsed bladder operations, they'd concluded that the girl had had an abortion.
After all, no husband came to visit her, only family and friends. It had to be an abortion, they'd all agreed disapprovingly.

As Caroline eased herself into the chair, she felt another of the pains. She'd felt the first one as Gene had helped her into the motor car he'd hired. The baby was due any day now and he refused to let her walk anywhere. He was waiting outside in the car even now, whilst Caroline had her private chat with Ada. The contraction passed quickly enough and Caroline ignored it, there was plenty of time.

‘Why, Ada?' she asked gently. ‘Why did you do it?'

‘Gene …'

Caroline leaned over the bed in order to hear what she was saying. Her voice was as weak and lifeless as her poor face on the pillow. Ada was defeated in spirit, Caroline thought. Poor, dear, pretty little Ada.

‘At the restaurant,' Ada murmured, listlessly staring into space. ‘Gene said he was being demobbed in Sydney.'

‘Yes?' Caroline willed her to continue.

‘I thought perhaps only officers were allowed to do that, but I checked the next day, and every American soldier's given the choice.'

Caroline said nothing and Ada was forced to look at her. ‘So why didn't Pete choose to be demobbed in Sydney?'

‘Because he was going home first,' Caroline stroked the hand which rested on the bedcovers, ‘he told you that. He was going home to see his family and get things in order, and then he was coming back to take you to America, that's what he told you.'

‘No, it's not.' Tears slowly welled in Ada's eyes. ‘I asked him to come to Sydney as soon as the war was over. I didn't want us to be apart all that time, I said I'd go to America with him while he was being demobbed. I didn't need things to be in order.' The tears started to stream down her cheeks. ‘He said, “I would if only I could, Ladybird, but they have to send me home first, it's the way the army does things.”'

Pete had deserted her, and Ada knew it. Nothing could be gained by trying to deny the truth.

Caroline dried Ada's tears and stayed with her for another hour, ignoring the pains which were becoming more insistent. She stroked her friend's hand until, exhausted, Ada dozed off.

‘Knock, knock,' came a voice from behind the curtains.

Gene, oh hell, she'd forgotten he was waiting in the car.

‘I'm sorry, love,' she whispered as she parted the curtains. But he wasn't in the least cross. Gene had the patience of a saint.

‘She all right?' he asked.

‘Asleep,' Caroline nodded. Then, out in the corridor, away from the prying eyes of the hysterectomies and the prolapsed bladders, she said, ‘I think I'm about to have a baby.'

It became Gene's proud boast over the years. ‘Caroline's perfect timing,' he called it. ‘The gynaecological ward of a hospital, that's where she chose to go into labour.'

It was an easy birth with no complications, and just as Caroline had predicted, it was a girl. They called her Emma.

One month later, Gene left for Melbourne. Excited as he was at the prospect of his new job, he was loath to leave Caroline and the baby.

‘It'll only be for a couple of months, love,' she said as she helped him pack. ‘You get things all set up for us and we'll be there before you know it.' They'd agreed that she'd join him when Emma was three months old.

She waved goodbye to him at Central Railway Station as the train pulled out. The three of them were there to see him off, Caroline, Emma and Kathleen. Gene leaned from the window and watched them for as long as he could.

 

‘You've got a bloody hide.' It was six weeks later and Pete had come back.

‘What the hell's going on, Caroline?' The American was dishevelled, and he seemed in a state of shock. ‘What's happened? Where's Ada? I went to her house and her brother Brian threw me out into the street. He said if I came back he'd kill me.'

‘You're lucky he didn't.'

‘But why?' Pete begged. ‘What the hell's going on?'

Caroline didn't beat about the bush. ‘Ada had an abortion, it nearly killed her.'

‘Oh Jesus,' Pete whispered, ‘oh Jesus.'

‘So now you know why her brother chucked you into the street.' Caroline made to close the front door in his face, but Pete's hand flashed out.

‘I had no idea, I swear it,' he pushed heavily against the door,
it was impossible for Caroline to close it. ‘Why didn't she tell me?'

‘She probably didn't know herself,' Caroline's voice was scathing, ‘it takes a while for a woman to know she's pregnant. But I'll tell you something, Pete,' she said with the full weight of accusal, ‘Ada would never have got rid of that baby if she'd thought you were coming back. Now let me close the door.'

‘No,' he refused, ‘where is she? I'm not leaving until you tell me where she is.'

Pete recalled Norm's words at the Bird house. Uncharacteristically sober, Norm had screamed through the window, ‘Bugger off you bastard, she's not here!' Norm of all people, he'd thought briefly, he'd always been pals with Norm. Then he'd been thrown into the street.

‘Have they sent her somewhere?' Pete was becoming desperate. ‘Where? You have to tell me, Caroline!' he begged. ‘Please!'

‘Why did you do it, Pete?' She stopped resisting and allowed the door to swing open. ‘Why did you lie to her? Why did you tell her you had to go to America to be demobbed?'

‘I thought it was the only way.' So he was admitting to the lie, Caroline thought, that was a start. ‘I never would have told her that if I'd known she was pregnant.'

‘You'd better come in,' she said grudgingly, thankful that Kathleen was out shopping and she had the house to herself.

They sat in the front room—only friends were invited into the kitchen—and she rocked Emma in her cradle whilst Pete told his story.

There'd been a lot of lies, he admitted. In fact just about everything he'd told Ada had been a lie. Except for the fact that he loved her. He came from North Carolina, it was true, but his parents didn't own a property there, and he didn't come from a large family as he'd said he did. The truth was he had neither parents nor family to speak of. Just a grandmother who'd begrudgingly brought up her daughter's illegitimate son.

‘She did the right thing as she saw it in God's eyes,' he said. ‘She was a religious woman and it was her duty, but she couldn't wait for me to leave home. So I did. When I was fifteen. I haven't seen her since. I don't even know if she's still alive. Which is wrong of me, I guess. I owe her.'

‘Why didn't you tell Ada all this?'

‘I wanted her to like me,' he said. ‘I wanted to sound interesting. That's how it started anyway.' He looked bewildered, he wasn't quite sure himself how it had happened. ‘Then it kind of got out of hand. I was so crazy about her I said just about anything to get her to marry me.'

‘Like a big white family wedding on your parents' ranch in North Carolina?'

He nodded miserably.

‘You're a fool, Pete.' A bloody fool, Caroline thought. Ada would have married you in a backyard dunny, you stupid, stupid man.

‘I know. Then I started to worry that maybe she was only marrying me to come to America and live on the ranch and all that.' He picked nervously at his thumbnail. ‘I didn't know what to do. So I figured I'd go home and sort everything out, and then I'd come back and …' He tailed off lamely.

‘And then you'd tell her you wanted to get married here and settle in Sydney instead,' she finished for him.

‘I guess so.'

‘And then of course you'd have the ready-made big family you wanted, young Betsy mad about you, old Norm thinking you're the bee's knees,' Caroline sounded brutal, the man was pathetic, ‘and naturally you'd be able to talk the brothers around once you were married.'

There was a large element of truth in what Caroline was saying and Pete knew it. He ached to be a part of a big family, a family just like the Birds. But she was making it sound as if he'd used Ada. And that wasn't true.

He stopped picking at his thumbnail. ‘I love Ada, Caroline,' he said. ‘I know I've done everything wrong, but I love her, and that's the truth.'

‘Where are all your belongings?' Caroline asked after a pause. ‘All the stuff you brought with you to settle in Sydney?'

Pete answered miserably, ‘There's not much, it's in storage at Central Railway.'

‘Well I suggest you leave it there when you get the train to Bowral.' He stared at her, hardly daring to hope. ‘She's at Bowral, staying with her married sister.

‘Good luck, Pete,' Caroline said at the door as she handed him
the address she'd written on a piece of paper. ‘I don't know if she'll take you back.' She would, Caroline knew it, but let him suffer a bit longer. ‘Just tell her the truth and see what happens.'

 

She must be getting old, Kathleen thought, she never cried. Well, she was old, wasn't she, she should be allowed to cry if she wanted to, and she sure as hell wanted to. But it wasn't fair on Caroline, so she mopped up the stray tear as she heaved the old suitcase from the back of the wardrobe. She lifted out the book, pulled herself together, and went downstairs with it clutched to her chest.

‘You must have this,' she said, placing Hannah's journal on the kitchen table.

‘What a beautiful thing,' Caroline exclaimed, running her fingers over the old leather. ‘What is it?'

‘My grandmother's diary,' Kathleen said, opening the cover. ‘You must make your first entry.'

As Kathleen bustled off to find a pen, Caroline traced with her finger the names and dates on the flyleaf page. There was the neat copperplate writing of young Hannah Kendall. ‘This journal is the property of Hannah Kendall,' Caroline read to herself, ‘given her by her mother, Emily, on her sixteenth birthday, the 13th of April in this year of 1831.'

Then below Hannah's writing, in the childish scrawl of a seven-year-old, was ‘Kathleen O'Shea, 1 October, 1882.' Below that, the dates of the birth and the death of her own father. ‘Robert Daniel O'Shea' it said, with ‘Robbie' written in brackets. Then, below her father's name, was her own name and date of birth, and below that, the date of the death of Otto De Haan.

‘It's a family tree,' she said as Kathleen returned.

‘Yes, I suppose you could call it that. You must write your first entry. Emma's birth.' She handed Caroline the pen. ‘And when I die you must record my death. I'm not being maudlin,' she hastily assured her granddaughter. ‘It's afine family record to have, and I want you to promise me.'

‘Of course I will, Gran. I promise.'

Caroline took the pen and neatly wrote ‘Emma Jane Hamilton, born to Caroline Hamilton (nee O'Shea) and Gene Bradford Hamilton, 20 September 1945.'

‘Excellent,' Kathleen said, closing the book. Then she picked it
up and ceremoniously held it out to Caroline. ‘There you are. It's yours.'