The Women in Black (15 page)

46

Patty opened her eyes to the new day, and remembering, despaired. For two pins she would have stayed where she was forever. But that wouldn’t do; she must keep going; at least it was Monday again and her duties were plain; there were no dreadful acres of empty time to fill: it was time to rise and get ready for work. She sat up and climbed out of bed, but as her feet touched the floor she was seized by a sudden feeling of quite awful nausea, and she sat rigid until it passed. Then gingerly she stood up and went into the bathroom.

She managed to wash and dress but shortly after putting the bread into the toaster she found the horrible sick sensation seizing her once more, and this time so violently that she ran into the bathroom and threw up. Oh Jesus, she thought, what is happening to me? It can’t be. It must be something I ate yesterday at Manly. It was the meat pie, that’s what it was. I knew I shouldn’t.

She felt quite dazed, here at Goode’s, with the second week of the sales at full throttle all around her. I should look at the swimming cossies in my lunch hour, she thought. Maybe I should get some new clothes, too, like Joy keeps saying. Splash out. But she felt so sick, so weak, that when her lunch hour came she could do no more than retire to the canteen. Fay didn’t accompany her.

‘I’m going to change and then look over the sales things,’ said she brightly. ‘I need some new clothes!’

Oh yes, thought Patty bitterly. Make hay while the sun shines. She felt dreadful, sitting in the canteen with a cup of tea and a salad sandwich from which she had taken only one bite.

‘Off your food? That’s no good!’ cried a sharp voice, and its owner sat down suddenly in the chair next to hers.

‘Oh hello, Paula,’ said Patty wanly.

‘How’s the nightie?’ asked Paula, with a vaguely suggestive smirk.

Patty tried to smile.

‘Oh, it’s fine,’ she said. ‘It’s really nice. I should have bought two.’

‘Yes, I
told
you,’ said Paula. ‘They’ve all gone now so you’re too late. Still, we’re getting new stock in a fortnight so you should pay us another visit, you might see something else as good.’

‘Yes, I will,’ said Patty.

She was desperate. Paula’s question, the conversation which followed, were terrible reminders of her situation and its prelude.

But a brilliant light suddenly at this moment flashed on in her mind.

She had never previously quite seen that the night of the black nightdress and Frank’s disap pearance, the one event following so hard upon the other, might in fact be connected in some way.

A vast area of speculation was revealed but where she was to begin to speculate she did not know. She had never had to think in such a manner before and did not know how it was to be done; she knew only that the possibility of a connection was placed before her, and that if the connection were to be established, she might then know something about the reason for Frank’s disappearance. But all opportunity for further thought was snatched away by Paula who continued to chatter brightly until it was time for Patty to return to Ladies’ Cocktail. The burning desert of the long afternoon now stretched before her.

Shortly after three o’clock Lisa noticed a weatherbeaten-looking man hovering about on the edge of the Ladies’ Cocktail section and she took particular note of him for the three very good reasons that, one, it was excessively rare to see a man (other than Mr Ryder) on this floor at all, and two, that if one were to see a man (other than Mr Ryder) here it would be a Rudi-ish sort of man, and not, three, someone who looked like one of the strange bipeds to be seen in the vicinity of the Hotel Australia during the week of the Sheep Show. I wonder if I should ask him what he wants, she thought. He must be lost.

Fay noticed the man at just this moment.

‘Gee, look at that,’ she said in a low murmur to Lisa. ‘He’s a long way from home!’

The two began to giggle and this sound alerted Miss Jacobs.

‘Now, you two,’ she said, ‘save your laughter until after hours. I can’t see what’s so funny about this section at the moment. Haven’t you got better things to do? There’s Patty doing all the putting-away. You see if you can’t help her while we’ve got a few moments to ourselves.’

The two young women turned away to do her bidding but a customer approached as they did so and Fay remained at the counter to take her money. Lisa took a step towards the rail where Patty was replacing some frocks which had been tried on and found wanting but at this instant the man, whom she had managed (intrigued as she mightily was) to keep in her sights all the while, began to come nearer. He seemed to be approaching Lisa herself—how odd!— perhaps he wanted help after all; perhaps he wished to buy a frock for his wife and wanted advice for which he had only now found the courage to ask. As Lisa reached the rail of frocks, Patty, who had had her back towards both Lisa and the strange weatherbeaten man, turned around.

No sooner had she done so—it was true that she was looking very pale, Lisa had noticed it herself—than she suddenly fell in a heap on the floor, with a ghastly thud which itself made Lisa start with a shock.

‘Oh!’ cried the girl. ‘She’s fainted!’

And she felt so shocked that she even began to tremble. Oh, what was she to do? There was Patty, stretched out on the fl oor in her black frock, as white as a sheet, with the cocktail frocks which had been draped over her arm all tumbled around and about her: and the remarkable thing was, that all the while the ridiculous man was still standing near by, doing nothing, and staring down at Patty.

‘She’s fainted,’ said Lisa to the man. ‘I’m just going to get some help.’

‘I know,’ said the man. ‘She’s my wife.’

Lisa stared at him. Good heavens, what on earth was going on?

‘Well, I’ll just get Miss Jacobs,’ she said. ‘She’ll know what to do.’

She went to fetch Miss Jacobs.

‘Mrs Williams has fainted,’ she said. Miss Jacobs threw up her hands.

‘Go and tell Mr Ryder,’ she said. ‘He’ll telephone up for the nurse.’

She hurried over to inspect her colleague. Miss Jacobs now saw the strange man.

‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she said with some sarcasm and much dignity, ‘I must attend to this lady who has fainted.’

‘I know,’ said Frank, again. ‘She’s my wife.’

‘Gracious me,’ said Miss Jacobs. ‘Well, it’s fortunate you’re here then. Even if you ought not to be. She’ll need someone to take her home. The nurse is on her way. Has she been ill lately?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Frank. ‘I’ve been away.’

‘Oh, have you?’ said Miss Jacobs. ‘I see.’

She pursed her lips.

Magda now appeared, like a crested eagle in a barnyard; she had viewed the greater part of the scene so far.

‘I have some sal volatile,’ she cried. ‘There is nothing like it!’

She fl ourished a phial. Miss Jacobs had managed to collect and hang up the fallen cocktail frocks and to loosen Patty’s clothing so far as was consistent with decency, and by supporting her with one arm around her shoulders, to raise her up to a half-sitting position. Magda held the sal volatile under Patty’s nose, and Patty opened her eyes and sat up with a great start.

The first sight which met her awakened gaze was Frank, and she stared at him for one abominable instant. Then she spoke.

‘Go to hell,’ she said.

‘Now, you’ve had a shock,’ said Miss Jacobs. ‘You just be quiet. The nurse is coming. You’re not well.’

She turned to Frank.

‘Perhaps you’d better wait somewhere out of the way,’ she said. ‘Go out onto the fire stairs, we’ll send for you when she can be taken home.’

‘Tell him to go to hell,’ said Patty.

‘Now, now,’ said Miss Jacobs.

Frank at last opened his mouth and spoke.

‘I’ve been to hell,’ he said. ‘I’ve just come back. But I didn’t have me key. I just came here to get the front door key from you, that’s all.’

‘Oh God,’ said Patty. ‘Oh Jesus. I should have known.’

And she began to cry. The nurse now arrived.

‘What’s all this?’ she said. ‘Let me see the patient.’

She began to take Patty’s pulse and to ask questions. Frank lingered near the door to the fire stairs.

‘She’d better go home then if her husband’s here,’ said the nurse.

‘Now you mind you see your doctor tonight if you’re still feeling faint. Someone should go to the locker room with her while she changes.’

Lisa was assigned this unhappy task and when she at last returned to Ladies’ Cocktail it was business as usual; Miss Cartright had helped to hold the fort and told her underlings that they could send for her again if they should find themselves too short-handed during Mrs Williams’s absence.

‘She’ll be here again in the morning with any luck,’ she said. ‘It’s probably just the heat, and not eating a proper lunch. I always tell you girls but some of you won’t listen. Eat a proper lunch!’

She sailed away in a fl utter of black and white stripes. This is not like Mrs Williams, she thought. Fainting, on the second fl oor!

It really won’t do. Still, that’s the sales for you: the end of the week can’t come too soon, I can tell
you
!

47

‘Patty Williams fainted this afternoon,’ said Lisa.

‘Good heavens! What, in Goode’s?’

‘Yes, right in the middle of Ladies’ Cocktail,’ said Lisa.

‘Her husband was there too.’

‘Her husband? but what was
he
doing there?’ asked Mrs Miles, astonished.

‘I don’t know,’ said Lisa. ‘Fay and I had to look after the section while Miss Jacobs was with Patty and the nurse so we didn’t hear what was going on. All I know is, that—’ and she recounted the events which she herself had witnessed.

‘Well, that all sounds very odd to me,’ said Mrs Miles. ‘Fancy him turning up there like that. And then her fainting. Goodness me. Don’t you go fainting, now. Do you eat a proper lunch when you forget to take your sandwiches? Promise me. You see what can happen if you don’t. She ought to know better at her age. Poor thing. I wonder why she hasn’t had any children.’

‘You should see her husband!’ cried Lisa.

‘Now Lesley, what do you know about that?’ asked her mother.

‘Well, he’s completely gormless,’ said Lisa.

‘So are lots of men,’ said Mrs Miles. ‘It doesn’t stop them from becoming fathers.’

Now that fathers had been mentioned the related subject of Lisa’s future was brought before them; it could hardly be avoided.

The distractions of Christmas and the New Year were behind them and Lisa’s fate was very nearly in view: the Leaving Certificate examination results were to be published at the end of the week.

They would appear in the Saturday editions of the
Herald
and the
Telegraph
; a large number of the examinees would go and inspect them on the proof-sheets of the first editions, which were posted for the purpose outside the news paper offices late on Friday evening. It might have been thought that Lisa’s father, privy much sooner still to the vital information, could have passed it on earlier in the day but so delicate was the subject of these results and the prohibited ambition which depended upon them that the subject had not been mentioned in his presence. He himself had expressed no interest in it whatsoever.

‘I suppose you’ll go down to the
Herald
on Friday night to see the results,’ said Mrs Miles in a matter-of-fact tone.

‘Oh, yes, probably,’ Lisa agreed with an air of equal unconcern. ‘I might as well.’

Mrs Miles could see nothing for it but to allude directly to the question which was now so immediate.

‘If you’ve done very well,’ she said, ‘if you’re pretty sure to get that scholarship, then I think it might be a good idea if we let your father stew for a few days after the results come out. I know he’s very stubborn about you not going to the university but all the same, it might be a good idea to let him stew. There’s plenty of time to try and talk him around before you’d have to enrol.’

‘Oh, I suppose so,’ said Lisa unhappily.

She could hardly endure the idea of further waiting, further uncertainty.

‘There’s a few more weeks before the scholarship list is announced anyway,’ Mrs Miles pointed out. ‘Just let him stew. You can wait.’

‘And if I don’t get good results,’ said Lisa, ‘there’s nothing to worry about anyway.’

‘No,’ said Mrs Miles. ‘But you will.’

And she knew this for a fact, she felt it in her bones.

‘Don’t you worry, Lesley,’ she said, ‘
Lisa.
Everything will work out. You’ll see. You just make sure you eat properly. Eat a proper lunch; don’t go fainting like that Mrs Williams. What was that stuff you wanted me to try and get for your sandwiches like you had at Magda’s? Salami? Well, I’ll see if I can find any. I suppose there’s some salami somewhere in Chatswood. I’ll have a good look tomorrow. Salami. I’ll write it down so I don’t forget.’

48

They went home to Randwick in a taxi, sitting side by side in complete silence, and then Patty found her front door key and they stepped across the threshold. Frank followed his wife into the kitchen and sat down awkwardly on a chair; she filled the electric jug and switched it on. While she waited for it to boil she studied the charming picture on the packet of Billy Tea, of a man sharing a cup of tea with a kangaroo. They were a more congenial couple than she and Frank, that was quite certain. This reflection was almost funny; she half-realised that the whole situation was almost funny.

‘Where have you been?’ she asked, quite calmly.

‘Wagga,’ said Frank.

Patty thought for a moment.

‘Wagga?’ she said. ‘
Wagga
?

’ ‘
Phil O’Connell,’ said Frank. ‘Who used to work at Wonda. Came into some money and bought a pub there. You remember. He was always asking me to go down, at first. So I went to have a look. Gave him a hand over Christmas and the New Year—there’s lots of extra trade then.’

‘You never thought to tell me of course,’ said Patty. ‘I’m only your wife. I wouldn’t worry, would I? I wouldn’t be wondering what had happened or anything, would I? I wouldn’t have to tell lies for you at Wonda Tiles or spend two weeks feeling sick and terrible and then have you just turning up at Goode’s like that, I don’t know how I’ll ever show my face there again. I don’t even know why you’ve come back here now. I suppose you ran out of clean shirts, did you? Well you can sort out your own bloody shirts from now on. I’ve had enough!’

And she burst into tears and ran into the bedroom.

Frank followed her and stood in the doorway wondering what to do. She was lying on the bed, crying, with her face pressed into the pillow. At last he came over and sat down heavily on the side of the bed. He touched her shoulder.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I never thought of all that.’

‘Well you’re stupid then!’ cried Patty. ‘Stupid and selfish!’

‘Yes, I suppose that’s right,’ said Frank. ‘I have been.’

He thought about this for a time.

‘I should have thought,’ he said. ‘I had my mind on other things.’

‘Like what, for instance?’ asked Patty.

‘I dunno,’ said Frank. ‘I just felt—well—after that night— you know—I thought you wouldn’t want to see me again. For a while.’

‘
You
thought!’ cried Patty. ‘You thought that, did you? You’re lying. It’s you didn’t want to see
me
, that’s more like it!’

And as she said this, she knew it was true; and it was something she had not known at all, had not even suspected: it had just come into her mind, just now, as Frank had spoken. Frank looked down at the floor and Patty saw the shame and confusion on his face.

She felt not tenderness or sympathy, but a sort of resignation. Oh God, her mother had been right: men were children, who did not understand themselves, and could not. Frank suddenly looked at her.

‘I’ll make it up to you,’ he said. ‘I promise.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Patty. ‘We’ll see, won’t we?’

And suddenly the future looked, as it had not done for years and years, interesting. She sat up.

‘I’m that hungry,’ she said. ‘Could you go down the street and get us some fish and chips? I’ll just ring Mum while you’re out, she’s been that worried about you. Don’t be long; I’m
starving.

’