Wandering Girl (3 page)

I put the lantern in between two bushes so the wind wouldn't blow it out, and with big strokes I began to sweep her driveway. What a job that was! The more I swept the leaves, the more the wind would blow them back on the path.

When I finished the job I was ready for that wash, all hot and frustrated! By this time it was real light, so I checked again to see if the driveway was clean, put the broom back in the garage and went to my room to hang the old burner up on the hook, then got my toiletries out to have myself a wash.

The shower room matched up with my bedroom, dull and listless with a terrible dog smell about it. I walked around a bit and came across what I assumed was the laundry. I shut the two doors, and had a wash in one of the big old basins.

When I finished I chucked Johnson's baby powder all over me, so I could smell nice, cleaned up the mess I had made, then went around the laundry to use the toilet, which was in the same block. Now that I was all clean, I made my way into the kitchen to wait for Mrs Bigelow to give me my orders for the day.

Everything was quiet when I went in and sat down at the table. Then I heard someone moving around in the next room. So thinking it was her, I thought I'd better go in, say “Good Morning”, and let her know I was there.

I poked my head around the door and saw Mr Bigelow sitting there having a cup of coffee and reading the paper, I said “Good Morning Sir!”

He never lifted an eyelid. He just told me to go and wait in the kitchen for Mrs Bigelow. I felt ashamed and embarrassed as I went back into the kitchen to sit down.

I heard her coming. She had a pompous, stately look about her, which made me feel timid and afraid. She asked me if I had completed sweeping the driveway? I said, “Yes”, then she turned to me to tell me about another job she would like me to do.

Before breakfast I was to go down a fair way from the house where her orchard grew. On one side of it was a paddock in which one orange tree stood alone behind a high fence. I was to go over and pick two oranges, run back to the house, squeeze the juice into a clean glass and put a starched doyley over it, as when she got up in the mornings she must have fresh orange juice.

I asked her if she wanted me to go and do the job at once? She said, “Yes”, so off I went to tackle it.

On my way down to the paddock, I stopped to view the country side. Very pretty, the gullies and the sweeping plains. The big hills that surrounded the property brought memories to me of my home!

When I got to the big fence, I wondered how I was going to climb over it without ripping my clothing. I tucked my dress in my bloomers, chucked my shoes off, and with shaky, wobbly vibrations climbed over the fence, ran to the tree and picked two oranges off. Then it was back over, shoes on, and back to the house to get her juice ready for her.

She was already sitting at the breakfast table in the dining room, so I bolded in bravely and put the orange juice in front of her - only to be scolded and reminded in a harsh manner, that I wasn't allowed in the dining room while any member of the family was there, unless she rang the bell, then I had to go in and see to her needs.

I begged her pardon, and asked if I might have my breakfast?

She told me I was to use my tin plate and mug. I could help myself to weeties, have one piece of bread and butter and a cup of tea - bacon and eggs were out for her dark slave.

So I thanked her and went into the kitchen to satisfy my appetite. I piled my tin plate high with weeties, because in the mission weeties were like a luxury to us kids.

We only had them once a week. That was every Sunday after church. If we never sang our songs, or said our prayers during church, our punishment was that we got no weeties! The nuns used to stand in line behind us in the pews and check to see who was singing. So we sang till our lungs just about burst, as we knew we could look forward to a nice bowl of weeties. Although they were put into a big pot of boiling water and used to go all mushy, they were still weeties and a far cry from old starchy porridge and mouldy bread with buttermilk. If the kids at the mission could see me now helping myself to the weeties, fresh milk and plenty of sugar, how envious they would be.

I wasn't quite sure how much weeties I could have. I just helped myself, and ate quickly before she came in to tell me that I had enough! After I finished eating, I sat back feeling rather bloated. The bell rang. I jumped up and went in to see what she wanted.

She was wiping away the traces of her breakfast from around her mouth in a rather disdainful manner. She put down her serviette to tell me that she was writing down a list of duties for me, and that she expected the jobs to be done properly. In the meantime I was to go into the kitchen and tidy it up and wait till she was ready for me with her list.

So I walked back into the kitchen to tidy up. I was beginning to feel like a zombie, beginning to feel that my sanity was slipping. To hang on to it, I thought I'd sing a few songs and get rid of those remorseful feelings I had churning up inside of me. So I started to sing one of my favourite songs, learnt at the mission: “I love to go a'wandering along the mountain track...”

I had really engrossed myself and my thoughts into my song, when I was startled and interrupted rudely and told to stop that dreadful noise.

I must have really upset her this time as her face was red as a beetroot. She told me she was very cross with me, as I was here as her servant, and she wasn't allowing her servants to go around making noises. She stated I was here to work for her, and if I wasn't going to listen to her I would be reported to the mission. Then she asked me, “Do you understand me clearly?”

I said, ‘Yes, Mrs Bigelow,” but deep down inside, I couldn't understand her and her attitude towards me. I thought she was quite a strange person. I didn't dare say anything, or speak out for fear of being scolded; I had to just grin and bear it.

You see, in those days I thought that's how people treated you. I didn't know any other way of life. This was the first place I had come to fresh out of the mission, so I was starting to feel a little bit resentful towards her.

I continued on with my work. When she came in and handed me my list of jobs I nearly buckled at the knees. I felt very weak at the thought of all that work. She just told me to pull myself together, and follow her as she would show me around the house and where to find the cleaning things.

I felt frightened as I didn't know how I'd keep my energy or strength of mind up; frightened, for fear I might not finish in the time she wanted me to, and I would end up getting a scolding.

While I followed on beside her, she was pointing out particular jobs that needed doing. I couldn't quite focus my mind, or pay attention to her. My mind was far away, thinking of home and how the other kids were getting on. I wouldn't feel so bad if some of them were here with me, I'd feel real happy. But I knew that was not to be.

When she left me standing there with the list in my hands, my mind came back to reality. I started on my first duty which was to gather all the silver and brassware, and polish and shine it until I could see my face in it. Then I had to go around and wax and polish all the woodwork - from windows to skirting boards. Even the bricks around the fire place had to be polished! Then I had to wash and sponge the carpet down. Then all the windows had to be cleaned. After all that was done, on to the next room, and go through the same routine.

I had to put every effort into making this room spotless. It was the room where she entertained all the Very Important People. Mr Bigelow was Lord Mayor of the town and surrounding districts.

People used to come from everywhere - not that it mattered to me, I was only there to clean and sweep up.

Whenever they were entertaining or having a party at night, I was never allowed to be seen. I had to go straight to bed. My orders were, I was not allowed anywhere near the house. It was out of bounds to her dark servant, because she didn't want the embarrassment of me amongst her supercilious friends. The sight of me might have put their toffee noses out of joint!

I shall never forget one of those lavish parties she threw. All the High Society was there. I remember the preparation I had to put into it - forever cleaning, mopping, shining things up for days. Her daughter came from town to help her mother. I couldn't see any sense in why she came, since I had to do everything.

As well as my cleaning jobs, I had to do all the kitchen duties, like preparing the vegies, washing the pots, pans, cleaning the walls etc., etc... making sure the pantry was spotless, washing and waxing the lino of the kitchen floor - all her daughter did was stir the pots of food on the stove.

I heard her say to her daughter that this party was something to do with elections. I didn't understand what that meant, I just carried on with my work, getting things ready so everything would look nice for her party.

Now on the night, she came to me all done up in a long lime green evening gown. Her daughter was there too, dressed in a silvery white gown. Like her mother she was dainty, with a turned up nose and plenty of rouge and lipstick on. A real
pretty kid
, as we say.

Their necklaces and earrings were of beautiful pale blue colours, but with all that make-up and rouge on, they both looked like clowns. As I'd never seen women dressed up like that it was something new to me - I thought they looked quite comical!

Anyway, she came over to give me strict instructions. When all her guests arrived, I was to take her two grandchildren into the back room - what she used to call the sleepout. I was to look after her grand-kids in that room. I wasn't allowed to show myself to her guests, so she left me and the kids there while she went to greet them.

I settled the kids down. When they fell asleep, I looked out the door - cars were everywhere. I took a look at the kids, they were sound asleep. So I thought I'd better go and help Mrs Bigelow, me feeling sorry for her and thinking she might need a hand with all those people. So kind-hearted me bolded into the V.I.P. room, looking like a real Orphan Annie.

Soon as I opened the door all the chatter and laughter stopped. You could hear a pin drop as all eyes were on me. All of a sudden, some poshed-up voice, with a plum in her mouth, came out of the crowd, “Tracey dear, is this your little dark servant?”

I just stood there smiling. I thought it was wonderful that at last people were taking notice of me. There were sniggers and jeers from everywhere. I turned to the lady who did all the talking, and said, “My name is Glenyse”. She was quite startled; she said, “Oh dear, I didn't think you had a name”.

At the time, I didn't understand what she was going on about. Mrs Bigelow came over to me and said in the sweetest voice, “It's alright dear, you may go to bed now”.

This was a shock to my system. I thought, “My luck has changed.” At last she felt sorry for me, which stirred my emotions up, as she ushered me out of the room, and waited till we got out of hearing distance. “Don't you ever do that to me again!”

I was so taken aback I nearly wet myself. I told her in a very shaky voice that I only wanted to help her. She replied that I had disgraced her in front of all her friends. I went to my room crying with shame and anger.

I lay back on my bed, and began to hate the place and the people in it. I wondered what could be so bad about me?