Wandering Girl (10 page)

Quietly, I entered the bedroom, which I must say was absolutely beautiful, decorated out with pale pink wallpaper in flower patterns. The curtains were a deep pink colour that blended in with her lovely fluffy white carpet.

I never minded cleaning down her dressing table, as I used to love picking up her figure ornaments and her bird shaped ones, and just gazing at them. They looked so real with the reds, greens and blues splashed over them.

And smelling all the different shaped bottles of perfume! Some were so strong I just about passed out with the whiff of them.

I put the Bon Ami down on the floor of her shower recess. This was one morning that I wasn't going to scrub those tiles. I would get myself cleaned up instead. I trotted off to her linen cupboard and picked out her best fluffy pink towels, with the aroma of lavender through them, went back to her room and laid the towels out on her big brass bed, waiting for me there.

Then I slipped my clothes off, selected one of her fine soaps and stepped into the recess. It was my best shower since being at the farm, oh it was a far cry from the dog house dribble I usually stood under.

That soap smelt really sweet as I rubbed it all over me, then opened up her shampoo and emptied half the bottle on my head. There were soap suds everywhere, I got so carried away.

After my shower I pranced out on her fluffy white carpet, not noticing the wet footprints I was making. At the dressing table I just about tipped over one of her bottles and splashed perfume all over me. Then I decided to sprinkle on some powder!

I finished getting dressed and looked around - I'd given myself a double cleaning job. There were splashes and powder all over the place. The beautiful bedroom looked like a whirlwind hit it. I didn't mind. I was smelling so nice, it made me feel so good. And when she came home I would be smelling like vinegar again, for I had plenty of work to do.

Alone for the day, I could ask my old friend to come up for lunch. It was too late for morning tea. Reaching the orchard, I cupped my hands over my mouth and sang out his name a couple of times. I heard him answering back, “Down here, lassie,” so I wandered down the land nearest to the river, and spotted him picking pears and oranges.

“Hi,” I said to him as if I had known him for years. He stood up and asked me how I was feeling. I told him I was on my own, as everybody had gone to town. I told him that she wanted more fruit to be picked and bottled.

He offered to help me straight away. I thanked him and asked eagerly if he would like to come up to the house and have dinner? He said he could. I told him that I'd go and get things ready. He said he'd be there at twelve o'clock and would bring the buckets of fruit up with him on the old tractor and trailer.

NEVER PUT YOURSELF DOWN

I felt so happy within myself that I skipped all the way back to the house. Even the mess those boys had left behind didn't dampen my spirits as I went about cleaning the kitchen and getting this particular dinner ready.

I set the table with her finest crockery, which she only used for very important guests - I felt that her workers were just as important and after all, it was a special occasion, old Bill was a friend of mine. I was buoyant now that I had someone I could talk to and laugh with about things. It was a far cry from walking around gloomy all day.

I laid the cold meats and salad on the table as I heard the tractor stop outside. Then I went to help Bill bring in the fruit. We put it on the sink, and I directed Bill out to the old wash house to wash his hands as I went back into the kitchen to make the tea.

Bill came in and I told him to go through to the dining room. He sat down and sang out to me, “Hey lassie, have you got the King and Queen coming for dinner?” He gave out one of his boisterous chuckles which echoed all through the house. I took the pot of tea in to find Bill already helping himself, so I took my place at the table.

I copied her fashion, and spread the serviette across my lap. I didn't want my scraps to fall on my good clothes. I laughed out aloud. What a joke! Bill must have seen the funny side too, as we both went into fits of laughter.

Was it possible that a slave girl in second hand clothes and an old handyman could sit up to a table laid with the best of crockery eating a meal fit for a queen?

Bill looked at me with his big sad blue eyes and said, ‘You keep laughing, lassie. That's better for you. Don't let the boss or anything get you down; I know it's hard on you because you are away from your home and I suppose you miss all your mates?”

With a twinge of my heart I told him, “I can only live on those memories now Bill as I don't know if I'll ever see home again.” I changed the subject quickly because talking and thinking about home always was a bit touchy for me. I was a very emotional person, I cried quite easily.

Now that we had eaten our main course, and I was enjoying my cup of tea, I suddenly thought about those buckets of fruit I had to prepare for preserving. As far as I was concerned I was quite content sitting down and relaxing for the day.

Still, I thought I'd better make a good impression so that when she came home and saw all the jobs she had requested completed, she would have nothing to scowl about. Besides, if I worked now I could take it easy for the rest of the day. Why, I might even ask old Bill if he would like to come and hear me play a few tunes on the piano.

He sensed that I was deep in thought and said, “What's up, lassie?” I looked up and said that I didn't want to rush my cup of tea, then explained to him about the jobs she had lined up for me.

His wrinkled old hands still clasped around the cup, his melancholy eyes gazed up at me as he said, “Shoosh lassie, while you are getting the fruit ready. I'll go out to the shed and chop the wood and stack the woodboxes for you.” He said I didn't need to show him where to find the shed and axe as he was an old hand at the job and that it used to be one of his tasks when she didn't have a girl working for her.

I thanked him and said it was very kind of him. Bill said he'd have another cup of tea, so I hopped up gladly and went to make a fresh pot. When I returned I sat down and poured his cup, then asked him if he liked music?

A big smile spread across his face. He leaned his frame into the back of his chair and said, “I sure do.” He let out a bit of a chuckle and I noticed a sparkle in his watery eyes.

“Oh, it's been a long time since I sat around the old piano. When I was a little boy back home mother used to play in the comfort of our lounge, with an open fire spreading warmth from the hearth to every corner of the room. We used to feel so cosy as we sang to our heart's delight - but that was a long time ago, lassie!”

We both had tender memories of childhood but I never asked him where his home was or where he was from. I guessed in time he'd let me know. He sat there with a faraway look in his eyes. I interrupted his thoughts, when I asked him, if he knew songs like, “Do You Ken John Peel” and “Waltzing Matilda?”

We both sat back and laughed, then stood up from the table. Bill said he'd go and get the wood chopping done, I said I'd go and get the fruit done - then we could sit back for the rest of the afternoon and entertain ourselves at the piano.

I attended to my jobs, feeling very glad that I had met someone like Bill. I didn't know how I would cope without him. He was making me see another side of life and by thinking differently I was becoming more bold in my attitude towards the boss.

If she scolded me or talked to me in a way where I felt like I was dirt, I sort of found courage to answer back in a way that would make her feel stupid, which I'd never dreamed of doing before to anyone as I had a very strict up-bringing. I still remember plenty of floggings I used to get at the mission for answering back to the nuns.

While I was peeling the fruit and cutting it up Bill came in and out with armloads of wood. I dropped what I was doing and rushed to his aid, to see if he wanted any help as I had a guilty feeling seeing him coming and going. He kindly told me to get my fruit job done as he couldn't wait to get to the piano. And I thought that I was the eager one..!

By the time Bill came in to let me know that he'd finished chopping the wood and stacking the boxes I had all the fruit peeled and cut up and all the jars filled with sugar water. I left them standing on the kitchen cupboard. Bill explained to me that most of the wood was cut and what he'd done was cleared all the stacked wood from the top so that at least you could see the rafters, and this would make it easier to get at.

He said, “That should be enough to keep the boss happy for the time being, it will take at least a month to get through the lot.” He went on to explain that he would come again to give me a hand at the chopping. Then he said, “How's the kettle going?” I gave out a bit of a shy giggle. “Oh,” I said, as I rushed to the sink, “I'll put it on.”

“Shouldn't be long before it boils,” I sat facing Bill just knocking my knuckles on the table. He said, “Lassie, you look so much happier, you're blooming just like the flowers you were looking at when I first came across you and startled you out of your wits.”

I asked what blooming meant, as I didn't understand. He said, ‘You look pretty and full of life.” All of a sudden, I got real shame! I buried my head in my hands as Bill got up to switch the kettle off and turn the cups over on the saucers so he could pour our tea into them when it was ready to drink.

He said: “What's up?” I got up giggling in a bashful way. As I went to the pantry to get the sugar, I shouted back at him, “Choo, I am
winyam
, big shame!”

Bill asked what I meant by that? I told him, “That's our way of speaking in the mission if we never had the looks, or had nothing going for us, we were
winyam
, or open.”

Bill didn't see it my way at all! He sounded a bit angry when he said, “Lassie, never put yourself down.”

I giggled, and said, “Na, oh I won't!”

I slumped down Into my chair and gulped a mouthful of tea, feeling more shame as half my tea went down the front of my dress.

Bill said, “My gosh, you are a nervous one, aren't you?” I told him, I couldn't help it.

He said for me not to worry about what people said. I was to hold my head up and not feel shame about myself. I was good as anybody else, if not better.

I said, “Choo, that's shame!”

As Bill laughed at my last exclamation, I guess I must have sounded quite humorous to him.

Now that we both had finished drinking our tea we cleaned up our mess and went into the visitors' room. I lifted off the pure white linen cloth she had draped over the antique chairs and drew them up to the piano. Bill sat there, rubbing his two old bony hands together as his weary eyes scanned every comer. “My, lassie, isn't this a grand room?”

“Yes Bill,” I sighed, wishing my bedroom was as beautiful as this; but I knew this could never be.

As I ran my fingers over the piano keys, I felt real glad that I had some company. It was so much more fun! Before when I used to come in here on my own, when she went into town, I had never felt as glad as this.

It was more human having someone to answer you back, than you answering only yourself back. I found I was getting into that habit since I'd been working for this boss.

Bill startled me out of my thoughts, when he began clearing his throat. He asked if I knew a song called, “Little Brown Jug?” He started to hum the tune to see if I could recognize it.

“Oh, of course I know the song. Bill.” And I started to play it straight away, not waiting for Bill to sing. When I played one verse, I looked at him to see if he was ready to sing. I kept right on playing.

He had his mouth wide open in lockjaw fashion, but no sound was coming out. I just let it rip!

The old man looked so astonished. He peered up to the ceiling with his hands outstretched and cried out, “Where's it gone?”

I could not stop myself from laughing at him and apologizing at the same time. In the end the old man was cracking up himself and wiping the tears from his eyes. I think that both of us were suffering with a bad case of nerves.