Jessica (30 page)

Meg wonders if they can see her for the country bumpkin she is, in her plain brown dress and unfashionable boots, Aunt Dolly's elaborate bonnet perched on top of it all. She looks frantically to see if there are other bonnets like hers, but sees none and thinks the young blokes must be looking at her bonnet and laughing to themselves. But when she looks into their faces she can see the bronze of sun and wind, the natural creases around eyes kept narrow by too much sharp light, and she knows she's among her own kind.

These are country boys from all the bush towns, farms and sheep runs in the land. Australia is sending the very heart and soul of the dry and dusty plains to fight for old Mother England. Tall, gangly, slow-talking country lads, who sit upon a horse and carry a rifle as easily as they use a knife and spoon. These colonial lads are off to sort out the Hun — the Kaiser had better watch out.

The three Bergmans struggle with the two old suitcases and the wicker hamper until they stand clear of the station and hail a hansom cab. ‘Oxford Street, mate, how much?' Joe asks, trying not to feel too lost and unimportant.

‘Dunno, mate, depends, don't it?'

‘Dunno what you mean, mate.'

‘Oxford Street goes two, maybe two an' a arf miles.'

‘Paddington? We're goin' to Paddington, know where it is?'

The cabby tries not to look insulted. ‘Cost you sixpence each and another zack for the luggage,' he says, looking down on them from his high seat, seeing them for what they are.

‘How far is it, mate?' Joe now asks.

‘Nearest point?' The cabby rubs his chin. ‘Arf a mile.'

‘Near the barracks, the Victoria Barracks, in Paddington. We got the name of a boardin' house, Mrs O'Shane.'

‘About a mile, then,' the cabby points, ‘up thataway.'

‘You know Mrs O'Shane?' Joe asks in surprise.

‘Nah, mate, the flamin' barracks, about a mile,' the cab driver says impatiently.

‘Thank you, we'll walk,' Joe says, lifting his hat to the cabby.

‘Nah, don't be bloody silly, catch the electric tram. Cost ya a deener the lot o' yiz.' He points to the tram stop. ‘Waverley tram goes right past.'

At the boarding house Mrs O'Shane is a big woman with hands and face red as boiled lobster. She seems all heat and fuss, with a voice rough as the sound of a wood rasp. But she remembers Dolly well enough and, it seems, with some favourable feeling, for she shows them a tiny room for Hester and Meg and a bed for Joe in the single men's quarters out the back.

The room isn't clean, but then it isn't dirty either. It has the pungency of human wear and tear but not of cat's piss and fried kippers, the redolent smell of just about every cheap English-speaking boarding house in the world. Hester has brought her own sheets and a thick blanket together with a bottle of eucalyptus oil so the bed bugs and fleas are more or less taken care of. The room is declared tolerable, its two major attractions being a stout door with a good lock and a brass key and furthermore, it is what they can afford.

They are all bone-weary from the train trip through the night, where they sat up all the way in a secondclass carriage. Behind the door is a notice which spells out the rules for Mrs O'Shane's establishment.

NO SLEEPING PAST 7 A.M. IN THE ROOMS AND NOT AGAIN UNTIL SIX O'CLOCK IN THE EVENING.

Mrs O'Shane later explains it's to stop double dipping, that is, nightshift and dayshift workers sharing the cost of a room between them.

DURING THE DAY, IF THE OCCUPANTS ARE IN THEIR ROOMS, THE DOORS ARE TO BE KEPT OPEN.

This, she says, is to prevent any hanky-panky and so forth and so on.

UPON LEAVING THE PREMISES THE ROOMS MUST BE LOCKED AND THE KEY HANDED IN TO THE LANDLADY.

ALL CARE AND NO RESPONSIBILITY TAKEN. FRONT DOOR WILL BE LOCKED BY TEN O'CLOCK, NO VISITORS ALLOWED AFTER NINE IN THE EVENING.

‘I know yiz are respectable folk from the country an' all, but I can't make no exceptions,' Mrs O'Shane explains. ‘Them's the rules and it's one in, all in, I ‘opes you understand? At night keep yer door locked and yer purse under the pillow and don't open for no one ‘cept if you recognise their voice. Don't have eyes in the back o' me ‘ead now, do I?' She looks sternly at Meg. ‘No soldiers allowed, no sailors neither. Best to talk to no one, ‘less they's introduced by me. Breakfast at seven o'clock sharp, porridge and tea, no toast. Dinner yer finds yerself outside, cafe on the corner, fish ‘n' chips two doors down. Tea at six o'clock, ternight it's Irish stew or bangers ‘n' mash or savoury mince, take yer choice, rice pudding to finish, all the tea yiz can drink, no intoxicating fluids to be brought to the table.' She glares at them, one eye closed. ‘Does I make meself clear?'

It is mid-afternoon by the time they've settled in and Joe goes off to the barracks a block away to find out how they might go about contacting young Jack Thomas. Hester and Meg are off window-shopping in George Street and Meg finds herself the subject of many an admiring glance, even though she has chosen to leave Aunt Dolly's velvet roses, bowed and ribboned extravaganza in the boarding house and wears her second-best plain brown bonnet instead.

There are soldiers everywhere and they see several officers on horseback who look so grand Meg thinks the younger ones must be captains and the older, with their curled moustaches, at the very least generals in command. Eventually they end up in the Botanical Gardens, where they rest on the clipped green grass under a large Moreton Bay fig. They take off their boots and share a vanilla ice cream together while they watch the mallard ducks floating on a small pond covered with lilac waterlilies.

At tea that night Joe announces that they'll see Jack Thomas at four o'clock on the following afternoon for an hour by special permission of his squadron commander, Lieutenant Ormington. They're to meet at the main gate of the barracks and Jack is allowed out but must report back by five-fifteen sharp.

‘We'll need to bring him back here,' Joe says, ‘so we can speak to him private, like.'

‘What about the rules, Father? Door open and no soldiers,' Meg says, her heart pounding at the thought of the confrontation to come. There has been no mention of their little conspiracy since the first night. She has planned and waited for Jack Thomas so long that what they're doing now seems almost normal. It is the thought of seeing Jack that makes her nervous — she's seen so many handsome young men in uniform that she hopes he stacks up. She wants her man to be as good as the others.

‘We could go by tram to Hyde Park, talk to him in the open?' Hester suggests. ‘Best that way, he'll be more at ease.'

Joe grunts, ‘Fair enough.'

Hester turns to Meg. The venue for the meeting now decided, she expects she'll have to do most of the talking. Joe is simply not up to it any more. ‘Meg, we'll have to ask Mrs O'Shane for the loan of a flat iron. The creases in your blue velvet dress simply won't fall out and we want you to look your very best, my precious.' Meg is as pretty as a picture when they meet Jack Thomas late the following afternoon and Jack seems pleased to see them.

‘G'day, Joe!' he says, extending his hand. Then he turns to Hester, ‘Afternoon, Mrs Bergman,' then he looks at Meg and smiles. ‘Hello Meg, what a nice surprise.' He shakes her formally by the hand then glances around hopefully. ‘Jessie not here?'

Joe tries to smile naturally. ‘She had to take care o' things back home. Lambing season, we've had some rain. Not much, but there's a bit o' green about, and the ewes are dropping.'

Jack shrugs, clearly disappointed. ‘It would have been real nice to see her,' he says wistfully.

Meg now turns to Jack. ‘Don't I get a kiss then, Jack Thomas?'

Jack looks nervous, knowing the two sentries must see him and perhaps there are others watching. He pecks Meg lightly on the cheek, blushing violently.

‘My, Meg, doesn't he look handsome in his uniform,' Hester exclaims, smiling, her head to one side as she looks him over.

Jack pulls at his tunic and tries to grin. ‘Never done so much shining in my life, boots ‘n' brasses and the curry-comb have become my whole flamin' existence.' ‘We've only got an hour,' Hester now says. ‘We thought a walk in Hyde Park might be nice?'

‘That'll be fine, Mrs Bergman,' Jack says as they set off for the tram stop. ‘Be good to see a face that ain't got a cap on its head I have to salute.'

Once into the park Joe buys ice-cream cones for them all and they find a small tree that throws enough shade for them to sit out of the sun, though it's late in the afternoon and the heat is already gone from the winter sun. They seek the shade instinctively rather than from need.

Joe waits until they've finished their ice creams and the girls have given Jack all the local gossip. He has a pain in his chest and he wonders to himself if he can get the words out proper. ‘Jack,' he says at last, ‘I suppose yer wonderin' why we've come down to the big smoke?'

Jack looks up at Joe. ‘Well, yeah, it did cross my mind. What with shearing starting in the shed, I was surprised to see you.'

Joe is happy to be distracted. ‘No more shearing, me back's gorn.'

‘George, eh?' Jack says knowingly, then, looking serious, adds, ‘Joe, there's always a job for you at Riverview. It's my property now, not my old man's. I'll see to it. Is that why you've come down?'

‘No, Jack,' Hester says, growing impatient at the small talk. ‘We've come to give you some news,' she looks up directly at Jack, meeting his eye, ‘good news I hope.' Meg at her side has her hands folded in her lap and her eyes are lowered. ‘Jack, Meg is pregnant — she carries your child.'

Hester is the only one who continues to look at Jack, who appears to be completely stunned by the news and gets to his feet without being conscious of having done so. He now stands almost at attention, looking down at them. ‘My child,' he says, trying the words on for the first time. After a few moments, ‘My child?' he repeats, now looking at Hester. ‘Are you sure, Mrs Bergman?'

Hester hands him Dr Merrick's letter and Jack unfolds it and reads it slowly, shaking his head as he reads.

‘Oh Jack, I am so happy,' Meg says. Then, scrambling to her feet, she embraces him, placing her head on his chest. Jack, not knowing what else to do, puts his arms about her shoulders.

‘Bloody stupid thing to happen,' Joe grunts, ‘but can't be stopped now.'

Jack pushes Meg gently away and hands the letter back to Hester. ‘Mrs Bergman, I don't know what to say. I mean, the war and everything ... ‘ He wipes his forehead and grimaces. ‘What can I say?'

‘You'll marry her, of course. Meg's not to have your bastard child, Jack Thomas.' Hester's voice is grown suddenly hard, her lips drawn tight. She's determined not to take a step backwards.

‘Oh, Jack, I love you so,' Meg says, bringing her hands together as though in supplication. ‘I do so want your child.' She clutches melodramatically at her stomach. ‘I
must
have your child.' She smiles up at Jack, her pretty head to one side. ‘It will be a boy, I know it will be a boy as handsome and strong as his father.'

Jack now has his head bowed, his hands behind his back. Without raising his head, he looks at Meg. ‘You said it was between us, that nobody'd know.'

Meg's pretty dark eyes take on a distressed look and she pouts defiantly. ‘Jack, I didn't know this was going to happen. I just wanted to love you, to say goodbye.'

She pauses for a moment. ‘Because you see, I do! I love you with all my heart. If you'll marry me I'll be the best wife a man could ever have.' Meg begins to sob softly.

‘Oh, Jack, I didn't mean this to happen, honest I didn't.' Jack looks at Joe, not quite knowing why. Joe is confused and feels ashamed and embarrassed at Meg's outburst. He thinks Jack's a fine-looking, decent young bloke and that he deserves better than his elder daughter. ‘Jack, we hope yiz'll do the right thing by Meg,' he says slowly without enthusiasm.

Jack stares down at his polished riding boots. ‘I'll have to ask my CO. — you see, we've got to get permission to marry,' he explains. He looks back up at Joe. ‘He'll have to see you all, I guess. Interview you.' Jack seems to hesitate a moment then says, ‘I think I told you he's my uncle — not that it counts,' he adds hastily, ‘I haven't even met him since I've been down here.'

Colonel Septimus Cunningham-Thomas, Jack's commanding officer and his uncle, is a Sydney barrister in civilian life. He is a tall man with steel-grey hair and a clipped moustache almost matched in size by thick eyebrows turned salt and peppery that give him a most imposing appearance. He and his brother George are chalk and cheese in their looks and stature and George has long since dropped the hyphen from his name so that he won't be disadvantageously compared with his older brother. Jack's commandant is known appropriately enough by his men as Cunning Tom, because little escapes his notice and, in the terminology of the army, it is very difficult to ‘put one over him'. In this, he and his brother are similar. He sees the Bergmans without Jack being present and addresses himself to Joe first.