Beyond the crushing wave.., p.11
Beyond the Crushing Waves, page 11
“Somewhere in London,” replied Harry.
“Thanks. That narrows it down,” quipped Mary with a roll of her eyes.
He laughed. “Well, you asked.”
“We’re gettin’ fancy new clothes,” piped up Davey, looking up from his work with a grin.
“I can’t wait,” added Mary. She’d never been clothes shopping before. Whenever Mam got her a new frock or a new coat, she’d simply show up at the house with some fabric or would come home with something used from the markets. Mary had no choice in what she received, and more often than not, the clothing would swim on her, or would have holes she’d have to mend.
She leaned against the seat behind her, lifting her knees beneath her skirts and letting her chin drop to her knees.
“I don’t care about clothes,” said Davey.
“What’s that you’re doing?” she asked.
He lifted the leather strap high enough for her to see it, letting it dangle in the air. “My slingshot. Ain’t she a beauty?”
She admired the slingshot, and the stones Davey pulled from his pocket. Then Harry showed her his own creation, which she gave the same attention to. Both boys were clearly proud of their creations, and she couldn’t help wishing for one of her own.
A sudden pothole lifted her into the air for a single moment, and when she landed again, somewhat painfully, on the vinyl seat, she figured it would be best to face the front after all. So, she spun around and massaged the back of her neck with her fingertips while watching the scenery through the window.
They’d reached the outskirts of London and buildings flashed by. Men on bicycles rode just beyond the window, caps pulled low over their foreheads. A double-decker red bus loomed alongside them, then turned down a side street. The footpaths on either side of the road were fast becoming busy thoroughfares the deeper into the city the bus took them.
Cars and lorries darted here and there; the noise of engines and horns became a constant backdrop to the hum of conversation in the bus. Finally, the bus pulled to a stop at the curb, and Mrs Hannity stood unsteadily at the front of the vehicle, one hand resting on a seat back.
“Ahem. All right, children. We’re here. Please disembark in an orderly fashion and wait in line outside. I will lead the way. Follow me.”
She climbed down the stairs, and the children filed out behind her, chatting in excitement about what was to come. Mary and Lottie held hands and stood in line behind the others. Harry and Davey came up the rear, shoving their slingshots and stones back into pockets.
The clothing store was large and packed from wall to wall with ready-made clothes in various sizes. There were coats, pants and shirts. Frocks, gowns, shorts and pinafores. Aprons, stockings and shoes. Everything imaginable, all found within one retail establishment. The children gaped at it all, then grinned and laughed as they pointed to this and that with delight. Still, they stayed in line. No one wanted to provoke Mrs Hannity to frustration, as they might miss out on the wonders of the promised new wardrobe.
Mary waited patiently for her turn. She couldn’t help wondering if, when it came time for her to try on new clothing, Mrs Hannity would hold out a hand to stop her and shake her head and announce, “Not these girls, everyone else but them.” But it didn’t happen. When it came time for her and Lottie to follow the saleswoman into the changing room, no one stepped in front of them or brought them to a halt. No one objected, and so they followed the woman’s sashaying hips with wide eyes and trembling legs.
By the time they were finished with their shopping trip and had returned to the house, Mary and Lottie each had a lovely new suitcase filled with everything they’d need for the journey, including a raincoat, a pixie hood, two gingham frocks, a coat, a tunic, a pair of grey flannel shorts, a woollen cardigan and jumper, a skirt with bodice, four pairs of knickers, two aertex blouses, two interlocked vests, a linen hat, three pairs of shoes (best shoes, sandals and plimsolls), two pairs of socks, three pairs of pyjamas, a bathing costume, face flannel, sponge bag, brush, comb, toothbrush, toothpaste and a Bible. Each of the boys had much the same, but with pants, ties, belts, and singlets instead of blouses and skirts.
Once home, they each took a bath. Mary scrubbed herself from tip to toe and shampooed her hair. She brushed the snarls from it carefully and pulled it back from her face with two hair clips, then donned one of the gingham frocks, socks, and plimsolls. She had never felt so pretty and clean in the course of her entire life. Her stomach was still full from tea and she couldn’t help admiring herself as she turned this way and that in front of the bathroom mirror. Her body glowed with health, her cheeks pink from the warmth of the room, her skin pale and clean. She grinned at her own reflection, then spun on her heel to find Lottie.
She found her sister already bathed, with one of the plump, smiling women who worked there combing her still-damp hair and plaiting it gently into long braids. Mary watched for a moment, a shy awkwardness tiptoeing over her. How strange it was to find someone mothering Lottie, a job she’d done herself since her sister was born. But Lottie laughed and chatted with the woman good-naturedly as though it was the most normal thing in the world.
Mary packed all her new things away and slid her large fibreboard suitcase under her bed. She smoothed the sheets and folded the blanket again to make sure there were no wrinkles in it, then sat on the bed to wait until the woman was done. When she’d left, Mary spun around to face Lottie. She took her sister’s hands in her own and lifted her to her feet, then turned her back and forth to inspect her.
“You look darling,” she crooned, bending to kiss Lottie’s cheek.
Lottie grinned, her cheeks blushing red. “Really?”
“Really,” agreed Mary.
“You’re a right lady,” replied Lottie, blinking as she studied Mary.
“Can you believe all this is ours?” Mary beamed.
“I was sad when Mam left us here,” began Lottie. She swallowed. “I didn’t know why she did it. But perhaps it’s because she knew they’d take such good care of us.”
Mary’s smile faded. She wouldn’t forgive Mam so easily for the way she’d casually thrown the girls aside. Her own daughters, and she’d turned tail and run as soon as a man offered her a place in his rundown, rat-infested flat.
“I don’t care about Mam. And I don’t want to talk about her. We’ve got all the good food we can cram into our mouths, new clothes and a brand-new adventure coming up. That’s all I’m thinking on. And you should too. Forget about Mam—she didn’t care enough about us to try to keep our family together. But we still have each other, and as long as I can breathe, we always will.” She wrapped Lottie up in her arms.
Her sister’s small head rested against Mary’s thin chest. “I know I should hate her, and I’ll do it if you want me to.”
Mary sighed. “I don’t want you to hate Mam. I do, though, so you can if you like. But it’s neither here nor there for me who you hate or like.”
“Do you think she’ll meet us there?” asked Lottie, raising her head to meet Mary’s gaze.
“In the colonies?” Mary didn’t want to answer the question. She knew how much Lottie longed for Mam to follow through on her promise.
Lottie’s eyes brimmed with hope.
Mary couldn’t understand how Mam could leave them. Walk away so easily and not look back. Facing her sister’s doleful eyes, the hopeful pout of her small, pink lips, set a lump in her throat. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.”
The bus came for them again three weeks later. They’d spent the past weeks playing in the expansive gardens at John Howard Mitchell House, eating the delicious food on offer, being pampered, and cared for, brushed, bathed and clothed by the women who worked there. It was a paradise. And now it’d come to an end. She was sad to say goodbye.
Some of the children had a mother or father visit them in the days leading up to their departure. The joviality of previous weeks had transformed to reddened eyes, sniffles, and morose countenances for those boys and girls who were leaving their parents behind as part of the One Parent Scheme. They’d see them again, or at least they planned to. But Mam hadn’t come. Mary didn’t think she could be disappointed by anything her mother did or didn’t do any longer, but it’d still struck her like a knife wound to the chest.
She and Lottie had sat in the library, books in hands, but not paying attention to the words on the page — she couldn’t read them anyway, and Lottie didn’t know a single letter. They’d strained their necks to catch a glimpse of the front door every time it swung open, but there was no Mam. There were plump women in drab brown garb, thin young women in colourful gowns with bright pink lips, wiry men in factory worker clothes, or hunched men in suits. But no sign of the woman who’d been her only parent for nine years.
It was Lottie’s doleful eyes that brought on the nightmares that made her toss and turn in bed in the hidden hours. Her sister needed Mam more than she did — she’d made an inner vow years earlier that she didn’t need anyone, let alone a woman who wanted a snifter of Scotch more than she did her own child. But Lottie saw Mam in a different light — one with a rosy hue — as a woman who was flawed, but loved them through it all. A woman who’d do what she’d promised, even if it might be the very first time.
Mary told herself she didn’t care, but the emptiness inside her grew a little more each day until it was a gaping black hole she had no idea of how to fill. Thankfully, she had Lottie, Harry and Davey. The four of them had become quick friends and spent every moment they could together frolicking in the sunshine or playing hide and go seek in the rain. But now it was time to leave their brief refuge, and for the first time, she wished she could stay in one place, with the very same people, for the rest of her days and never leave. But of course, that wasn’t to be.
They climbed on board the bus, having handed their suitcases to the driver outside. He hunched over, a cigarette hanging from one corner of his mouth, while he lobbed each suitcase into the bus’s dark underbelly. Mary and Lottie sat side by side, staring out the window up at the enormous house that’d so intimidated them three weeks earlier, but was now the home they’d never had. Mrs Hannity climbed on last, fixing her hat as she grunted into her seat. As the bus creaked and grumbled down the winding driveway, Mary spun in place to get one last look at the house where she’d learned what it meant to be warm, well-fed and cared for.
They drove to London, then under the Blackwall Tunnel and through the East End. Mary and Lottie pressed their noses to the windows, taking in the familiar sights and sounds of home. Mary thought she might never see it again, and the lump in her throat grew. Beside her, Lottie sniffled quietly into her sleeve.
Then before long, Tilbury Docks rose up like a dark sentinel against the horizon. Mary caught glimpses of it through the front window by stooping low to look out. The bus slowed, bumping and grinding over potholes and through gravel along the side of the road as it eased to a halt. Rain pattered against the bus roof as the children reached for their raincoats and shrugged into them in silence.
Mary helped Lottie into her raincoat, and they followed the rest of the group out of the bus. Behind her, Harry trudged quietly. He hadn’t said much in recent days. She noticed no one had visited him either and assumed his mood had something to do with that. He hadn’t told her his story, and she hadn’t asked. There was an unspoken agreement between the children that no one pried into anyone else’s business. None of them had a happy tale to tell or they wouldn’t have been there, and so they kept the stories of their woes to themselves, only sharing in the quiet spaces of friendships forged in the midst of their adversity.
Outside, the cold edged its way beneath her coat, stockings, and scarf. Mary shivered and reached for Lottie’s hand. Ahead of them stood a tall building, immense and imposing. Beyond that, she saw the smokestacks of an enormous ship. There were gasps of surprise and awe from amongst the children, but Mary simply stared and squeezed Lottie’s hand a little more tightly. Lottie sobbed quietly, and Mary couldn’t think what to say or do to comfort her sister. Mam hadn’t visited, and they were leaving London behind.
Excitement buzzed in her gut, and she hated the sound of her sister’s tears as they pulled her back to reality, to the fact that their lives were changing forever. They may never come home, may never see Mam again. But Mary didn’t want to think about that, so she focused instead on the tall, slanted smokestacks, the mainmast like a cross atop the deck reaching towards the sky, and the long, white sides of that glittering ship.
“You can have it, if you like.” Harry’s voice broke through Mary’s reverie, and she spun to see him handing something to Lottie.
Lottie sniffled into her sleeve, then took the object and held it out in front of her. “But it’s your favourite slingshot.”
He grinned. “I know, but I want you to have it. I’ll make another one, no trouble at all. This way, if you’re scared, you know you can take care of yourself. No one can hurt you when you’ve got a slingshot like this one in your pocket.”
He handed over three perfectly round, smooth stones. Lottie examined them one by one.
“You’ll need these too. I don’t know when we’ll get to collect more, so Davey and I found all the best ones we could before we left.”
Mary inhaled a quick breath. Harry’s gaze rose to meet hers, and his eyes twinkled. She offered him a smile of gratitude as Lottie’s sniffles faded, her attention instead focused on the slingshot and stones she was shoving into her pockets.
“Ta for that,” said Mary.
Harry nodded.
“All right, children, let’s get moving!” shouted Mrs Hannity. “Two orderly lines and follow me, please.”
They clambered up the gangplank onto the ship, leaving Mrs Hannity behind with little fanfare. There was no one else to wish them farewell when Mary hesitated to glance back at the dock as a member of the crew, who were all dressed in matching uniforms, led them along the deck. There were twenty-one children in their group, plus two women who’d come from the House with them as chaperones. They looked just as nervous and out of place as the children did, lugging their suitcases along with both hands. Smart in navy-blue, the sailor leading them urged them forward, with a monologue about the ship and its history.
The ship was named the S.S. Strathaird. Built in 1932, the old P&O liner had been used during the war as a troopship to carry Australian and other Allied soldiers. It was a grand old ship, and after the war had been restored to its original beauty in order to become a passenger ship all over again. With oak-panelled walls, stained-glass windows, ornate ceilings, parquet floors, Persian rugs, and antique furniture, it was truly magnificent. It was hard to believe that Mary and Lottie would spend the next six weeks on board. Excitement bubbled up, and Lottie grinned expansively as they locked eyes. This was going to be great.
As the ship pulled out of port, Mary and Lottie stood on the deck, hand in hand, to watch. England drifted into the distance, rain clouds shadowing the island as they pulled away. The rain followed them out to sea, leaving divots in the glassy ocean’s surface. Mary’s heart squeezed as the last glimpse of home dissolved into the low-hanging clouds.
11
November 1953
Harry
The cabins on D deck were large and well-equipped. The crew member described, as he ushered the boys inside and showed them around, how these cabins been a first-class state room that was converted into two rooms after the war to house the single-class passengers the ship now carried to Australia. The two cabins sat side by side. Harry and Davey joined four other boys in one. Mary and Lottie ended up in the cabin next door with two other girls, a younger brother of one of the girls, and a chaperone.
The rest of the group moved further down deck, along with the other chaperone and the crew member. His voice droned on, then faded away. Harry shut the cabin door and scanned the room. There were six bunks, and an adjoining lavatory and washroom. They seemed to have been left on their own, although he supposed there wasn’t really anywhere for them to run off to. They’d be stuck on this ship, no matter what, until it arrived in port. The thought did little to buoy his already flagging spirits, although he couldn’t help feeling a little bit excited at the prospect of so many weeks at sea. He’d read about explorers and adventurers, but never imagined he’d get the chance to sail to the other side of the earth at eleven years of age.
Harry put his things away in a compact cupboard beside his bunk bed, then sat on the bed, head bent so that it didn’t hit the bunk above. Davey rustled around overhead, then slid down the steps to stand in front of him.
“This is aces. Can you believe how big this ship is? I can’t wait to explore it all.”
It amazed Harry how well Davey seemed to cope with whatever was thrown their way. No matter what happened in life, he took it in stride. Very rarely had Harry ever seen his friend down in the mouth. He’d been orphaned at a very young age and never held onto the hope of a family, the way Harry had.
Perhaps that was the key to finding happiness. Perhaps he should simply let it all go and forget he’d ever hoped that his mother would return and bring him back to a life full of love, warmth, good food, and fun. That maybe she’d remarry, and they’d all grow to be a family together. He had to push those thoughts from his mind forever. She was gone, she wasn’t coming back, and he’d never have the family he’d longed for. He was on his way to a farm in New South Wales — a place where other orphaned and poor children would be his companions. They’d be his family. He wouldn’t have one of his own. It was time he accepted it.
He offered Davey a half-smile. “It’s dynamite. I wonder if they’ll let us look around.”
“We’re aboard for six weeks. We’re bound to feel right at home after so long. This ship’ll be ours!”
