The Noon Lady of Towitta (8 page)

Sister Kathleen must have been growing accustomed to the bizarre aspects of my family stories. She looked neither shocked nor stunned but just seemed to breathe deeply and shake her head. Then she eagerly looked up, anticipating the next instalment. Whenever I suggested we should call an end to the storytelling, she pleaded with me not to stop.

‘So that all happened just as you were going to live in Adelaide. My goodness, I'd have been glad to leave all that behind too. Perhaps you could tell me of what happened to you in Adelaide when I next come. It can't be for a few days, as we are short staffed because some nurses are away with this terrible flu that's going around. We have also had quite a few new patients admitted. It would not be exaggerating to call it bedlam.'

9

The next time Sister Kathleen came she brought me skeins of lemon-coloured wool for knitting. It was a sunny day and she took me again into a shady part of the garden to a bench under one of the large peppercorn trees. She said we probably wouldn't be disturbed there.

‘And I've brought us some fruit cake to share.'

She made me comfortable with a rug over my lap before I began the story of the next part of my life spent in Adelaide as a servant to a wealthy family.

The Waters family lived in a large two-storey house in North Adelaide that overlooked the Parklands and the centre of the city. I assisted a servant named Rebekah who was two years older than me. I helped her with the laundry, general housekeeping and in the kitchen. We came from the same region and our families knew each other from church. When Mrs Waters asked Rebekah if she knew of another girl who would like a situation, Rebekah – who had been at school with Pauline – thought of me.

It was no easy matter to leave the farm even though the money I earned in Adelaide would help it survive. Father erupted into spasms of rage at Mother who he believed had plotted with Mrs Waters to arrange the job. His intention was that none of us would ever leave the farm; but for the tightening grip of the never-ending drought, I doubted that I ever would have. Mother kept reminding him just how poor we really were and the common sense of allowing me to work for this well-to-do and highly regarded Adelaide family. Father grudgingly surrendered but only from fear of offending the Waters family. And he was consoled when he learned how much I would earn and how much of that would be passed to him.

Mother had told me, ‘Of course you can keep a few shillings from your wages but you will have to send us the rest, at least until matters here improve. And perhaps, Mary, you will find yourself a nice young man there.' And so I left home for Adelaide when I was almost twenty years old.

When I arrived to take up my position I was shown into Mrs Waters' parlour. ‘I am very pleased that you can come and work for us, Mary, but there are some rules you need to know. Rebekah will be able to tell you of my expectations. But I need to stress that I don't wish to see you near our private living rooms unless you have good reason. You have the kitchen, the yard and your room as your territory. And it goes without saying that I expect you to work quietly and diligently.' She then led me to the room I was to share with Rebekah.

As servants we soon learnt our place. In return for this and doing our chores to the satisfaction of Mrs Waters, we expected that we would be left to work without unnecessary interference. Our reward – or our right as we saw it – was that on special occasions in the evening we could leave the house, as well as on Sundays once breakfast was over and all the chores done. We wanted no obstacle or hindrance to our work for there was so much that had to be done. Rebekah told me Mrs Waters was a fair employer, but to watch out for her beady-eyed mother-in-law who lived in the house. When scrubbing a floor she would be there, watching us. At times she would study what we were doing, complaining, ‘My girl, look at what you're doing, you've missed a bit there in the corner.'

‘Yes, ma'am,' I'd reply, and set to re-cleaning the floor.

Sister couldn't contain herself, ‘Yes, well I know what that is like. Sometimes Matron suddenly appears out of nowhere and does the same thing. It makes you feel so small.' She paused and smiled warmly, ‘I've heard that some of the larger Adelaide villas are very beautiful inside. What was the one like that you lived in, Mary?'

Although Adelaide had some big houses that were grandly called villas they were not really so big when several servants were expected to live together under the same roof, but independently from the owners. The owners demanded privacy, desiring as little contact as possible with the servants, but this was difficult. The houses were not designed to house servants and not large enough to be adapted effectively. There was no second staircase – backstairs – for exclusive use by the staff, making it difficult to avoid the family. This was a major problem for Rebekah and, after her death, for me. There were also two male staff, Vern who looked after the horses and Stanley who drove the carriage, kept it clean and did the heavy chores around the house and tended the garden. They shared the living area over the stables but came into the kitchen to eat meals with us. Old Mrs Waters was present during these breaks, keeping an eye on us to make sure we behaved to her satisfaction.

Sister Kathleen interrupted, ‘Why ever did you return to Towitta after you had escaped such a horrible place?'

‘Be patient, Sister, and I'll tell you. Believe me it was not my choice.'

I was called home by Father at the time my mistress's husband, a well-known city businessman, started to become over-friendly with me. By this time I had become attached to his family, especially his little girl. I was happy. I was told he'd made a fortune from the goldfields in Western Australia and in the silver mines at Broken Hill; that their house was built from the profits using the finest materials and one of Adelaide's best architects.

Then Rebekah's troubles began, and I became involved too. Rebekah and I were very close and for the first year we shared a room. Then I was given the tiny boxroom as my own. Madam had decided I should have my own room until such time it could be used as a nursery, when I'd have to return to share a room with Rebekah. I didn't mind this. Rebekah and I would talk for ages before we went to sleep. She trained me in the running of the household, and told me of all the goings-on as she saw them.

Sweet Rebekah with her fair curly hair spoke from experience when she told me that the men who called themselves gentlemen and had important business positions about town, were not gentlemen at all. She constantly warned me to keep my door locked at night. I was puzzled. I couldn't think why she should insist on this in a house safe from intruders. It didn't occur to me she was referring to dangers from within the house. She believed all men were cads and bounders by nature, men who promised the world to prove their so-called sincerity, who gave trifling gifts and trinkets for ‘little favours'.

I discovered she knew what she was talking about from experience, for one day she asked me to accompany her to a herbalist living on North Terrace who could help her out of her delicate condition. I was startled when she told me this for although we went out on the town together and often met young men of our own ages, we didn't have sweethearts. So I was baffled as to how she'd managed to get herself in the family way until I remembered her warnings about locking the bedroom door. Just before she died she whispered that the intruder was none other than our mistress's husband, and that I had better watch out.

On the morning of the visit, Rebekah told madam she was not feeling well and needed to see a doctor. In the afternoon she was given time off and I was asked to chaperone her. We went to the smart terrace houses next to the Botanic Hotel on North Terrace and I waited for her outside. Sister Kathleen couldn't contain herself at this, ‘My goodness, I remember now that some of the older nurses were talking about the terraces next to the Botanic Hotel and why they were so popular with country women travelling alone. They never explained how the boarding houses were connected to the hospital. They kept making references but, Mary, I've been so naïve!'

The trick was to start a miscarriage by visiting one of the ‘herbalists' and then admit yourself to the hospital if things went wrong. About half an hour after Rebekah asked me to wait outside, she appeared looking pale. ‘Now I shall be all right,' she said quietly.

‘What have you done, Rebekah?' I asked. But by now I had guessed. Sometimes the servants about town talked of these occurrences. The next morning when I arose early, I found Rebekah slumped on the kitchen floor by the wood stove in a pool of blood. I ran and summoned Madam who immediately sent the carriage driver for a doctor and the police. Rebekah was rushed to hospital, where she died an agonising death from septicaemia many days later.

Before she died she told the police at her bedside that she had visited Madam Harpur for a certain operation. Madam Harpur called herself a herbalist and she was well known to the police for long-suspected illegal abortions. It was during this time that I first met Detective Bill Priest, the well-known Adelaide ‘D', who came to interview us. Although Rebekah told me the man responsible for her condition, the police were unable to draw this information from her before she died.

‘Now, Miss Schippan,' Detective Priest asked, ‘are you sure Rebekah never told you who her sweetheart was?'

‘No, sir, she never told me.'

Despite the probing questions, the detective was unable to obtain the information he was looking for, which he referred to as corroborative evidence. Madam Harpur was not convicted on this occasion.

Work in the big house did not stop but it continued in uncomfortable and miserable silence until the funeral. After the funeral I took over Rebekah's place in the household with the promise of extra help and moved back into the bigger room I had shared with her in those happy early days. It had become difficult to find girls who were happy and able to work as a domestic servant. Madam said so many girls were saucy and forward, and so several came and went. The stress of running the household on my own and dealing with the master played on my already delicate health, almost to the point of breaking down.

By this time, I knew my mistress was in the family way again because she was sick every morning. It was then that her husband began deliberately blocking my way on the stairs or in passageways. He would come up behind me when I was dusting or bending over and place his hands on me, oh, ever so gently. He always made it seem like an accident. He apologised and I couldn't take offence, especially as he was a gentleman and me a maid, and he knew when to give one of his smiles. It became a most difficult situation. Who could I tell, who would believe me, and further, was I imagining it? After a while I came to accept that he would never pass without a caress. And it was no surprise that these gentle collisions led to other kinds of encounters.

When his wife and small daughter went to stay with her sister in the country for a few weeks, the deaf old Mrs Waters remained in the house. But this did not deter the master who took to coming into my room each night after returning from his club, no matter how late or how much under the influence he was. The first time he came to me he made out that he'd entered my room by mistake.

‘I'm so sorry, Miss Schippan, I didn't mean to wake you.'

‘There is no need to apologise, sir.'

‘Look, you have been here a long time now, may I call you Mary?' and he moved to sit on my bed and make himself comfortable. ‘I've been meaning to tell you how impressed I am with you. Don't think I haven't noticed how you do your hair and wear your clothes. I see how neat and efficient you are. But you act as quiet and timid as a little mouse while watching me out of the corner of your eye. I notice these things. And of course, every time I pass you in the hall or on the stairs, you never fend me off. When I put my hands on you, you yearn for me, don't you? Don't say a word, Mary. I know what you want.'

By this time I am unable to speak or move. I am paralysed with disbelief and shock for he has moved closer and begun running his fingers gently over my neck and throat.

Sister Kathleen's eyes were wide when she asked, ‘Why didn't you stop him there and then?'

‘Don't you see, Sister, I couldn't – and more truthfully I didn't want to.'

Once he'd started caressing my throat and running his hands under my nightdress, I felt my whole body brace itself … waiting … waiting. When I didn't push him away, he put his lips to my neck and … Well, if you must know, I was already his. I desired whatever he offered. So you see his gentle way of approaching me after he first came into my room, lead to other visits. And despite Rebekah's dire warning, I never learnt to lock my door. After my master's first visit, to start locking it would have been useless. I wanted him and besides, locking the door would not have stopped him as he had spare keys. And I believed that if I refused him he would find reason to have me sacked. I could not risk forgoing a reference. The alternative was to return to Towitta. As well as knowing Rebekah's fate, I'd heard about seduced servants resorting to dumping newborn infants on the doorsteps of strangers, down privies or into the Torrens Lake. Worse still, single mothers-to-be could end up at female refuges or at the government's prison-like lying-in department at the destitute asylum.

After his wife returned from her vacation, George – that is Mr Waters – continued visiting me until after her confinement. I liked these nightly visits. In the mornings when I woke I sometimes found a bottle of scent or a lacy handkerchief on my dressing table. But I was scared of the consequences and knew I had to leave as soon as I found another position – or before I was sacked.

The worry of being put in the family way and disgraced, or ending up like Rebekah, exacerbated my illness. During this time I was suddenly taken ill, the haemorrhage making me believe I might have been in a delicate condition myself. Later I fainted. Madam insisted a doctor be called in to attend to me. I wasn't keen to see one, hoping it was all due to the nights of interrupted sleep, but believing it to be something worse …