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Authors: Evelyn Conlon

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Not the Same Sky (15 page)

BOOK: Not the Same Sky
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The judge addressed the clerk, ‘I suppose the next are from more drunkenness,’ he said in a resigned tone of voice.

There followed more cases and Charles was about to leave when to his horror Julia Cuffe walked through the door. He put his head in his hands and remembered everything about her, everything that had gone wrong from the moment he had first become aware of her.

Julia Cuffe’s first trouble came from her ability to mimic, she had tried it a few times in the first week on the ship. It had gone down well at home, before the sickness, so she thought it might get her small concessions once they had set sail. But there wasn’t enough room. Nor room enough to create any other kind of trouble. She did try out various forms of diversion in classes, but Charles had removed her without ceremony. She was out the door before she could even figure who told on her. She always liked to know who told, even though she accepted that she had to be blamed. There always had to be someone to blame, it made others feel secure and superior. And that was her path, to be blamed, even if she wasn’t at fault. Although she usually was, preferring all things that were forbidden.

‘Just bad. She’s just bad,’ Matron had said.

But Charles had said, ‘No.’

He thought that working in the kitchen might be the best for her. But she threw a pan at the wall. He moved her to the laundry room. He moved her to a scrubbing job. He moved her to helping Matron very early in the morning. He moved her to helping Matron very late at night. He moved her to the stern of the ship, to the middle of the ship, to the port of the ship.

‘I’m at the back end this week,’ she shouted. And laughed. ‘Wait till I get to Australia—I’ll show you back end!’

Although tempted, Charles did not move her to the hold.

On the morning before the ship was to dock, Charles had brought Julia to his quarters. He wanted this conversation to be had away from other, more fearful ears. And he wanted her to have some hours before landing to think about what he said.

‘I wish I did not have to speak to you like this, Miss Cuffe.’

‘Oh, forget the Miss.’

‘Could you please try to listen, Miss Cuffe.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘There are strict laws where you are going, you will not survive if you continue to behave in this manner.’

‘In what manner?’

‘Please, Miss Cuffe. As you know I have tried to show you the rudiments of domestic service, which is what you will be required to give …’

‘Kitchens is that?’

‘Yes, kitchens, if you will. And when you arrive, you will be hired by people who will require you to have at least basic manners, of which you haven’t shown much so far. Perhaps that’s a little harsh, you may have …’

‘Not a bit. Just don’t go in for all that palaver. Could I not get a job outside the kitchens?’

‘What kind of job?’ Charles sighed.

‘How would I know. You’re the one who brought me here.’

‘But you had a choice. You all had a choice, well you could have said no, I think …’

‘Some choice.’

‘Miss Cuffe …’

She was at it again, interrupting him as consistently as she had done in the first week.

‘Miss Cuffe, it wasn’t exactly me who choose you … Never mind. As I said, you will be required …’

‘Require away. I’m not from Australia.’

‘I know you’re not. Now. But you are going to be.’

‘Going to be from Australia! Don’t be daft, begging your pardon, sir, as you say. But I couldn’t be
going to be
from Australia.’

‘Well, be that as it may, you will have to work.’

‘I know that, sir, I’ll find something.’

‘But how will you find something. You will be a stranger here. There.’

‘I thought you said I was going to be from there.’

‘Miss Cuffe …’

‘Sorry.’

‘As I said, you will be a stranger, all right, let’s say newly arrived. There are dangers.’

‘I’m not afraid.’

‘It’s not a matter of whether you are afraid of those dangers or not. They’re there.’

‘These dangers … What are they like? Are they the same as at home?’

‘I have no idea with what dangers you have been acquainted in Ireland, so I cannot say.’

‘Have you ever been to Ireland?’

‘Well …’ Charles began. He thought that maybe he should say he had lived there for some time. Why was he allowing her to make him contemplate an untruth. ‘Look, that is neither here nor there,’ he said.

‘Oh, but it is. If you’ve never been there how do you know what dangers we have, or whether they’re different to the ones where I’m going.’

At this point, Charles was overcome with the futility of the exchange and decided to get his charge back with the other girls. He worried that perhaps he should have waited until the very last moment before speaking to her. There was now too much time for her to do damage to the others.

When Julia was at the door, he said, ‘But really, there are dangers. And I don’t want you to fall foul of them.’

‘Don’t worry, sir, I’ll be all right.’

And maybe she would. And maybe she wouldn’t.

She was the seventh girl to be hired, by a burly hotel owner who needed a girl for his kitchen.

As she left she said, ‘Hey, Strutt, be careful.’

By the time she and her employer had reached the hotel, his eyebrows were up, wondering if perhaps he had not made a mistake. His wife should have come.

It wasn’t the mimicking so much that the landlord minded, it was what it meant, what was behind it, what it signified. So he let her go. He dismissed her early in the day, so she would have light for a while. He might have passed her on, but decided not to inflict her on anyone he knew. At the door, she raised her voice and howled out curses in a frightening language.

‘That’s enough,’ the landlord shouted.

But still she roared.

‘Shut up,’ he screamed.

But she wouldn’t. He ran after her and was going to hit her, when luck intervened and a policeman came by. They brought her to the magistrate. Whatever came over the landlord, he allowed the judge to convince him to give her a second chance.

‘Now, young lady,’ said the magistrate …’

‘Young lady,’ sniffed the landlord.

‘You are, very kindly, being given a second opportunity here by your employer. Use it wisely. There are dangers out there, do you hear me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes, Your Honour.’

‘Yes, Your Honour,’ Julia repeated.

Luckily for Julia, the magistrate did not ask her any further questions, thus denying her the opportunity to make him remember her.

‘Dangers,’ he boomed.

The next time the landlord threw her out, he did so at night.

It is a known fact that everywhere, at any time, dangers are more plentiful at night. Julia made her way through the streets, at first more afraid than she had ever been. But she did not like being afraid, so she straightened her shoulders up and walked past what appeared to be only a few men. Some of them hooted and whistled after her, drowning out the silence of those who simply looked. She made it past them, the echoes of their suggestions making her ears hot. Still, there was always one thing she could do if she ever became hungry …

In its way, it was dirty work, but it was work.

The next time Julia was brought before the same magistrate, he did not recognise her. And the clerk had forgotten to put her file in front to him.

What would your father think of you?’ he mused.

‘He’s dead.’

‘Be that as it may, keep him in your head.’

‘But if I kept him in my head he’d clog me up, and I couldn’t see.’

‘What?’

‘But, I’ll tell you what, Your Honour. I have him with me. He’s right behind me all the way.’

The magistrate fumed inwardly, but still, it was her first offence. She paid her fine.

The next time she appeared before him, charged with loitering, the clerk had remembered to place the file before him.

‘Young lady. You were given a good and decent job …’

‘Your Honour, it was only pot walloping.’

The clerk, above and beyond the call of his duty, warned her with a look.

‘You were given …’

‘A good and decent job,’ Julia finished for him. ‘And I never asked to be brought down here to the bowels of the earth for a
good and decent job
.’

The magistrate began to reply, then thought better of it. He dipped his pen in the ink, checked the veracity of a few particulars with the clerk, and wrote a note.

‘It’s Brisbane for you, young lady.’ He bent his head. ‘I am signing an order for you to be removed to Brisbane, perhaps you will do better there,’ and the judge paused to write. ‘What arrangements are there in place regarding the disposal of these girls in Brisbane?’ the judge asked the clerk, with only the slightest trace of anxiety in his voice.

Charles winced at the word and wondered if there was anything he could do and then thought not. The clerk said that already many had gone to that city and he himself had not been informed of any huge problems. The judge handed the paper to the clerk.

Julia wasn’t sure if she would obey the magistrate and see if Brisbane was any better than this kip, or if she’d give this place another go.

Charles slipped out the door to continue his visiting.

Four days later Charles set sail back home, where he remained for six months before taking his next journey over that sea. On the day he left, girls were burrowing into their lives in all sorts of homes, some happy for an occasional lengthening moment, some not. As he walked on to the ship, hearing the noises of preparation, it was impossible to say from looking at him whether he thought of them, just as it was also impossible to say if girls around this new city, or in Brisbane or in the towns of Yass and Gundagai and thereabouts, stopped what they were doing for a moment, feeling that some tie in them had been broken.

CHAPTER 19

One year to the day after the landing of the
Thomas Arbuthnot
, Honora Raftery got married. A little fast, it may have been thought, but she had found a man who was not unlike her dead father, so there was no need to wait. He was not of the same religion as her, nor indeed of the same nationality, but who was there to tell her that this might be unwise? But how like her father—and who would have thought that possible? Her employer was sad to see her go, so sad that he thought some arrangement could be made to keep her living nearby and maybe providing occasional help, until the children started arriving.

Honora’s husband-to-be was a little concerned as their wedding day approached. His late marriage had not to do with a lack of heart, more a lack of opportunity. He had been hopeful on meeting Honora, and was well pleased when she said yes, and even more so when Honora’s employer blessed them. But having gained all the necessary agreements for the wedding, he felt let down by what he perceived as nonchalance on Honora’s part. But then he remembered, it would be her age.

The day went well—it proved possible to get some of Honora’s shipmates together, and David’s mates turned up on horses and on foot. The women cried and put away serious matters for the day. And on that night reticence went up in smoke. When David closed the door of their room, Honora knocked him off his heart with her look.

***

One year to the day after the landing of the
Thomas Arbuthnot
a voice shouted out in Georges Street, ‘Bridget Joyce, is that you Bridget Joyce?’

It was. But Bridget didn’t recognise Julia Cuffe.

Julia was on her way to collect her belongings, having been finally and definitely caught and without doubt on her way to Brisbane, when she saw that flittery one from the ship.

‘Well, I’ll tell you what, she’s more than just flittery now,’ Julia said to no one.

‘I don’t remember you,’ Bridget said.

‘It’s all right,’ Julia said, not taking it as an insult, putting it more down to the sorry failed state of Bridget.

‘And how are you, Bridget?’

It wasn’t seriously a question. Bridget looked at her, not quite sure how to answer.

‘It was being despised that I found the hardest,’ Bridget said.

Who could despise this wisp of a thing, thought Julia.

‘They probably didn’t despise you, they just didn’t understand you.’

‘No, they understood. They despised me. I know what that means.’ Bridget took a long breath and looked up the street. ‘And I’m tired of speaking English all the time, there’s no rest from it. And how are you?’ she asked, as an afterthought, remembering that she should.

‘All right. I got into a bit of bother and I’m being sent up to Brisbane. The courts sent me.’

‘Where’s that? Is it near Yass?’

‘No. At least I don’t think so.’ Julia made to move off, but turned and asked, ‘Who’s looking after you?’

BOOK: Not the Same Sky
11.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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