The Postcard (34 page)

‘You can do better than that.’

Try as he might he couldn’t sing a note. Suddenly Jessie stopped playing and looked up at her husband. ‘He’s scared, Bob.’

Bob slammed the piano lid down hard on her fingers, trapping them, and she screamed out in pain. Des flew at him like a demon, kicking out at Bob’s legs as the big man raised the poker and
thrashed him, blow after blow, until he fell down in a faint.

He woke up covered in bandages, not knowing where he was. Ma Kane was bathing his brow. ‘I’m sorry, Louie. He’s gone mad this time. You’ve got to get out of here before
he kills you.’ She was crying. ‘This isn’t my son any more, he’s queer in the head.’

‘Where’s Jessie?’ Desmond cried in alarm.

‘Resting up. I don’t know what devil’s got into him, but since his accident . . .’ She paused, staring at their wedding picture on the dressing table. ‘It
can’t go on.’

Des couldn’t move for the pain in his limbs and in his head. Was this all his fault for coming with Jessie? Was that why Bob got so mad? He knew to keep her safe he’d have to leave
but now he was so tired, he couldn’t think straight any more. All he knew was he hated Ruby Creek, and Ma Kane would help him if he asked nicely.

‘Have you got a stamp and an envelope I could have?’ he asked her the next day when he sat in the kitchen, trying to peel potatoes.

She smiled. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but mum’s the word.’

Callie sat with her sundowner on the deck of the
Empress
, sunning herself. At long last she was on her way to Australia and would arrive in time to see in the New
Year. It had all taken much longer than she’d hoped. There were so many loose ends to tie up, not least trying to find a house in the suburbs when there was such a housing shortage. In the
end she’d taken a lease out on a house near Bexhill-on-Sea. Des would love to play on the beach. There were good schools, and it was a place where no one would know their business, a place
where she could put all the past behind them and start again.

At last, she’d got a firm address for Jessie Kane, pinned her down to a farm called Ruby Creek near a town called Marree, and sent off the first salvo by way of warning that she was on her
way.

This ship was packed with young children starting a new life in a new country, orphans accompanied by nuns and teachers. They were dashing all over the decks, full of beans, their pale city
faces blossoming the fresh air. Callie tried to imagine how Desmond would look now, aged seven. She’d sent him a parcel for Christmas with a beautiful Dinky car and a picture of herself in
uniform. She’d sent Jessie a letter, enclosing a postcard of the ship for him and she’d also enclosed a picture postcard of her mother in her heyday. It would remind Jessie of her
responsibility to the family. Phoebe Faye in her Gaiety Girl glory looked so pretty and formidable. It was a pity her son would never see his grandmother again unless Callie was ready to forgive
her, but this would remind them of her importance.

It was good to be on board a ship again. The last time she’d been dreaming of Ferrand, on her way home, carrying his child. How happy they’d been in Cairo with all their future
before them. If only they’d known what lay ahead. Even now her dreams were broken by nightmare scenes she couldn’t control. Soon she would return with her son and they’d begin new
lives together, and nothing and no one would ever separate them again.

It was nearly Christmas and Jessie and Ma Kane were busy shopping in town for provisions. Des begged to go with them or his plan wouldn’t work. His bruises were fading
but he had a bad scar over his cheek. Bob wouldn’t want his injuries to be seen in public so he put on his jacket to hide his arms, despite the heat, and a cap over his shaven head. He wore
shorts made from a pair of Bob’s denims, and his feet were poking out of his sandals. Bob didn’t look at him directly, and no one said anything about that night. Jessie’s
fingernails were black and her fingers were strapped together so he and Ma took over her chores.

Desmond asked if he might go to the post office. He was clutching his pound note and his precious Christmas card. He wanted to buy Christmas presents and post his special letter to Adelaide. It
had been burning a hole in his pocket for weeks. He had written out the message very carefully in his best handwriting.

‘Have you been in the wars, again, Louie?’ The post mistress looked at his face with concern.

‘The horse tossed me again,’ he said, not looking at her. He handed over his letter.

‘While you’re here, there’s something for your Aunty Jess from England. Make sure she gets it, sonny.’

Desmond slipped it into his pocket and set off to the store to buy a tin of chocolates and some hankies for Ma, and some tinsel. It was Christmas, after all, and even if it was hot, Jess
promised there’d be a Christmas tree to dress. With a bit of luck Bob would drink and fall asleep and leave them all to enjoy themselves listening to the wireless on their own.

Bob had been very sober since that terrible Saturday night. Desmond had heard him pleading with Jessie to forgive him. He took them to church without complaint and promised them a picnic as a
treat.

There was no snow, and no Father Christmas in the shops. Jess said it was too far for him to come to Ruby Creek but he would leave presents just the same. Jessie whispered, ‘You must be
nice to Uncle Bob. He’s making an effort. He knows he did wrong.’

‘Why do we have to stay?’

‘Because I made my vows in church for better or worse,’ Jessie replied, looking very sad. ‘We have to make the best of things.’ He knew she cried if there was no post
waiting for them from her family. She was hating the strangeness of this place as much as he.

All Desmond’s plans went well until Christmas morning, when the presents appeared under the tinsel tree and he gave out his to Ma and Jessie.

‘How did you get the money for those fancy things?’ Bob sneered, examining the gifts and aware there was nothing for him.

‘It’s my own money, I saved it.’ Desmond smiled.

‘Like hell you did. Have you been stealing in town?’

‘No, I haven’t. I was given it.’

‘See how he changes his story. So who would give you money? Jess, have you been taking it out of our housekeeping?’

Jessie flashed him a look of defiance, shaking her head.

‘Don’t you lie to me.’

‘She doesn’t lie,’ Ma pleaded. ‘It’s Christmas Day, leave it off.’

Bob grabbed Des by the shirt collar, making him wince. ‘Tell me who gave you money.’

‘I was given a pound on the ship when we left.’

‘Who was it?’ Bob tightened his grip.

‘Big Jim gave it to me.’

‘Big Jim who?’

‘Our friend. He was coming home from the war.’

‘A soldier on the ship. Why would he give a runt like you money?’

‘Oh, Bob, please. Big Jim was our PT instructor. He was kind, that’s all.’

‘I bet he was kind, so kind he gave him money to keep quiet. Was he your fancy man?’

‘Oh, please, calm down. It was nothing like that. We had a few dances, otherwise we had to dance with other girls. Don’t jump to conclusions. He took a shine to Louie, that’s
all. Let’s enjoy the day without any arguments. It’s Christmas.’

‘So bloody what? It’s only a day like any other, nothing special. The stock don’t know it’s Christmas. That boy has a sly look . . . what are you looking like that
for?’

‘I forgot something, just a minute.’ Des dashed off to find his jacket and dipped in the pocket. ‘I forgot this letter. It’s for you, Jess, from England.’ He held
out the letter in strange handwriting. Jess turned to open it and then walked out of the room.

‘Bad news?’ said Ma, seeing her return, looking serious.

‘No, it’s just family news. I’ll read it later. Where were we?’

‘Back where we usually are, arguing over this blighter and his antics,’ Bob said.

‘Don’t keep going on at him.’ Jess moved closer to Desmond.

‘You always take his side. He’s got to go.’ Bob stared at them both.

‘He’s too young to go away to school in a strange country, have a heart. I brought him out here for a better life.’ She was busy tidying up the wrapping paper into the
hearth.

‘It’s either him or me, Jess. You weren’t like this in Scotland. You were full of fun and ready for anything.’

‘And I came across the world to be with you, only to find you are not the man I married. You’ve changed. Anyone can see that. I didn’t come here to be battered black and blue.
And you treat your stock better than you treat little Louie here.’

‘He’s a bad influence on you.’ Bob stepped forward and Des instinctively stepped back, waiting for a slap.

‘Look at yourself, Bob, and your own faults before you go blaming a child. What sort of example have you given him? Not one kind word has passed your lips since we arrived. I can’t
take much more.’

‘Then you know what you can do then,’ he replied with a sneer, his arms folded. But when he saw the determined look on Jessie’s face his expression changed.

‘That’s fine by me. I’m sorry, Ma, but enough is enough,’ she said. ‘If we can’t be civil on Christmas Day, what hope is there for us? Come on, Louie, time to
pack. I’m not one to stay where I’m not welcome.’

Desmond couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why had she changed her mind? Could it be true they were really leaving? He raced up the stairs after her, smiling for the first time in weeks
as she pulled down the suitcase with all the labels on it, throwing in their clothes, all the town stuff they’d hardly worn. ‘We have to leave right away. I’ll get one of the farm
hands to drive us into town. Though where we’ll go, I’ve no idea.’

‘I have.’ He smiled, holding out the worn slip of paper he’d saved all these months. ‘I’ve sent him a card. He knows about us. We can go there first. I made him a
promise and now we can keep it.’

Jessie turned and smiled back. ‘What would I do without you, son?’

Desmond flushed with pride. This change of heart was the best Christmas present ever.

Callie felt the strange heat prickling her skin as she gazed from the train out onto the countryside, astonished at the sheer size of the territory at the top end of South
Australia , the forests, the expanses of flat land with roadside settlements strung out like something out of a Wild West film. Mile after dusty mile with no sightings of people. What would her son
have made of such space? It was a new country for young people, new roads and townships; even the soil was so different from her own.

She alighted at the station halt closest to Ruby Creek, excited but uneasy, an obvious stranger in her London clothes. She booked into the only hotel – little more than a bar with rooms
above – and deposited her case. Her first action would be to find the quickest way to the farm. She’d hoped someone would have the courtesy to meet her at the station as she’d
sent details of all her travel arrangements to them well in advance. There had been no reply to any of her mail, however, so she made for the store-cum-post office.

The woman behind the counter smiled. ‘G’day . . . Can I help?’

‘I hope so. How do I get to Ruby Creek?’ Callie paused, smiling, aware of her accent. ‘To the Kane farm. I’m looking for Jessie Kane. Is it far?’

‘You from England?’ the woman asked.

Callie nodded.

‘Sorry, can’t help you there. Jess’s been gone a while back,’ she whispered. ‘There was a bit of trouble. If you ask me, Bob Kane wants his head seeing to, letting
a hard worker like her go . . . Still, I reckon his head’s not been in the right place since he flew off that motor bike. Took off, sje did, on Christmas Day and only been here five minutes.
She had her reasons, so I don’t blame her.’ She leaned over the counter to make her point.

‘So where is she now?’ Callie couldn’t believe she’d come all this way to hear this.

‘I heard they were seen catching the train south. Perhaps they’ve left for good. I don’t think they settled.’

‘They?’ Callie asked. ‘She took the boy with her?’

‘Of course. She’d do anything for that kid. He’s a funny one. Came in here all secret with a card to post. Lonely kid, shame they cut off all those curls. Now, young Louie did
have an address somewhere in Adelaide,’ she offered.

‘Can you remember where?’ Callie asked, wondering why she called him Louis.

‘Have a heart, do you think I read all the mail before it’s sent? I’m not that memory man on the wireless . . . Though, come to think about it, the little fella was so proud of
his handwriting and not many farm boys come in like him, especially one as didn’t go to school. Now what was the name . . . Wait, it’ll come to me. It was a name I knew . . .’ She
shut her eyes, trying to concentrate. ‘It began with a B . . . Ball was it? Nah . . . I don’t know any Balls.’

‘Oh, please remember.’ Callie was shaking.

‘I know . . . Boyd Rankin, he was at school with me in Marree.’ She shook her head and smiled. ‘It was addressed to a Mr Boyd of Adelaide. That’s the best I can
do.’

‘Do you think they went there?’ Callie was desperate.

‘Why are you asking me? Ask Ma Kane . . . or perhaps not. Are you a relative or Welfare?’ The postmistress was eyeing her with suspicion now.

‘A close relative . . . I came all this way to see them and now I’m too late.’ She was close to tears and so tired, but she didn’t want to give too much away.

‘You sit down and rest your feet. You can do me a favour. I have a pile of mail addressed to Jess here somewhere. Wait a sec’ She darted into the back and brought out Callie’s
Christmas parcel and letters.

‘But I sent these for Christmas,’ she said wearily.

‘The addresses weren’t quite right and they went somewhere else. Now you can give them in person. It’s worth trying in Adelaide. It’s a fine city and this Mr Boyd might
help you find them. Good luck . . . I didn’t catch your name?’

Callie nodded, saying nothing as she walked out of the shop, trying not to cry with disappointment. She’d built herself up for the reunion here, and now all this. Desmond hadn’t got
her pictures and presents. Had Jessie fled after receiving that first letter, which Callie saw wasn’t in the pile? Was that why they left so quickly?