CHAPTER SIX
In the cafe, that night, Kelly told him. He didn't say much at first. Then smiled, took both her hands, and leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss.
"Are you pleased," she said.
"I am. Maybe the timing is a little out, considering our current condition, but I am. How do you feel about it?" Sean was still holding her hands. The couple at the next table, smiled.
"Frightened. Still I wouldn't have any other father for my, our child, but you. Still love me?" She needed reassuring.
"'Cause I do. Wow. I'm going to be a father. Hard to believe."
"Sean," she interjected, "It's still very early. Without a medical check, I'm, not 100%."
"Whatever. Actually I thought it wasn't possible, I mean....."
"How long since my father......?" she countered.
"Say no more. Still you should have reminded me. Any way, it makes no difference. Let's go home and take all the doubt out of this question." A big smirk spread across his face.
She gave his arm a playful hit. "A bit dangerous for a while. But I'm sure we could come up with something."
"I'm sure I could," he said, and laughed. They paid and walked back to the boarding house.
Next morning, they both came down to breakfast, together. Mrs. Belton was already there, as usual, and the Jacksons. As they sat down , Mr. Wedderburn shuffled in, his clothes betraying his lonely existence. Sort of thrown on, soiled and never ironed. He mumbled a hello, and started on his porridge. No Theo.
The Jacksons were bright, and asked Sean if they were interested in going to Centennial Park on the weekend. Sean looked at Kelly, and said it was a nice offer, but they had some plans. He enjoyed their company, but they wanted time to themselves, and the opportunities to develop friendships with people more their own age.
Mrs. Belton, gave one of her snorts, and commented that it was disgraceful, that some guests, could come and go when they please. When Sean looked blank faced, she wrapped her knuckles down on the spare table space, where Theo Murray usually sat.
Kelly thought she might get her to be a little less upright. "I crochet a little, Mrs. Belton. My mother taught me. Do you have any pass times?"
"Very commendable for your mother, to have such foresight. A skill in the crafts, is an asset to any lady. I...I do tapestry work, and....it's time for me to go." She stood up quickly, and wiped her mouth with a small lace hanky she always carried up he sleeve. "Perhaps we may compare our passions, one night, Mrs. McCauley." She walked out, giving a curt nod to Theo Murray, who was just entering, at a great rate of knots.
"Did I hear right," he said, grabbing the cereal and milk jug, simultaneously, and dropping into his seat, almost at the same time. "She's on to you. Watch her. 'Comparing your passions'."
"Entirely out of context, Mr. Murray," replied Mr. Jackson. "Any scandal you wish to create, is misinformed. The ladies have a mutual interest in needlecraft."
"In what?", the words sandwiched between munches.
"Needle sewing, you young twerp." Everyone looked at old man Wedderburn. It was the first time Sean and Kelly, had heard him make a sound. Nothing else followed. Theo looked a little taken back, and said nothing, just keeping his eyes down.
"Time to go, Kelly," said Sean, and taking Kelly's arm, raised her from the chair, and left the room.
"What's going on," said Kelly.
"Enough is enough. Another thirty seconds, and I would have lost it, with him. How does he sell shoes, or whatever he sells?" Sean's face was visibly red.
"Go count to ten, and wash your face. He's an idiot, so forget him." Kelly's face, betrayed no emotion. She was concerned, Sean's temper, would cause more problems, than they could handle. "Just have pleasant thoughts today. Last night should keep your mind occupied, all day."
"Sorry." He didn't have to say any more, she understood.
They finished getting ready, and walked to the tram stop.
"Still interested in a trip to Manly, after work Saturday?" he asked.
"Of course. Maybe the ferry will just keep on going out the Heads, and take us to a new land." She had a longing in her voice. Before he could say anything, a young person dived through the open door, on the wrong side of their compartment, and fell into a seat, out of breath. None too soon, for almost immediately, a tram coming the opposite way, passed them.
"Have to stop doing that," said Sean. "Another five seconds and you would have been mince meat."
A large exhale then "Think you're right. Teach me to sleep in. Bit hard to dance with one leg." He was about twenty, slim, and his hair just a touch longer than commonly worn.
'You dance?," asked Kelly.
"Yep. Chorus, at the Empire. Like to do some solo, but just have to wait my chance. Might move soon. Try Melbourne....."
"Fares." A black uniformed figure suddenly appeared at their compartment opening, doing a wonderful acrobatic job of balancing on the bouncing running board, hanging on by using his knees to wedge himself, and keeping his hands free to move tickets and money, to and fro. It never ceased to amaze Sean, what risks, people took to earn a living. "And don't make a habit of that, sir," he said, looking at the new arrival, "too much paperwork." He was nodding towards the open doorway.
"You're right, sorry." offered the young dancer, and the conductor was gone, swinging his way along out of sight.
"Bet he'd be a good dancer," said the new traveller, "light on his feet, agile. Better than half the mob on stage now."
"They're not all good on they’re feet?," asked Kelly.
"Not really. Spend more energy chasing each other, some of them. About half are queer, and most have permanent hangovers. Usually the troupes are great to work with, and put their soul into it, but this current lot, are too, well mixed up.
Sean smiled. Dancers and singers were not his scene, but he tolerated them. 'Wouldn't go down well at a footy party', then smiled again. 'Maybe they would.'
"When the girls found out, my er.. tastes, that's been a problem for me. Never leave me alone." He leaned closer, and lowered his voice. "Reason I nearly missed the tram,' and winked.
Sean and Kelly looked at each other, but said nothing.
At work, it was a special sale of last season's lines, and Kelly found she was on the move, all day. Was this to be her life, from now on. Still, once the baby came, she could be stuck at home, where ever that might be.
"What a day. My feet are killing me." It was another girl in the department, Deb.
"You're not wrong there. Glad to go home," replied Kelly.
"Say. If you'd like to, there's a party at my place, or rather my oldies place, on Saturday night. Bring your husband, and a bottle."
Kelly was going to say thanks, but no thanks, but impulse told her, it might be a good thing. And they might even meet some people their own age. Outside work and the lodging, they knew no one. "That's nice. I'm pretty sure Sean and I could come. We were going to Manly, but we can go Sunday. Oh Oh. Customers," and they moved off to try and make a sale or two.
Sean had a quiet day, by comparison. A large consignment of premium blend teas, had to be crated, for shipment by sea to Tasmania, and he was given the job. The truck came about 3pm, and picked it up, then the foreman asked Sean, to go upstairs to the office, and see Miss. Leedy. He'd been up before, to get paperwork, so he knew his way, but it wasn't a Miss Leedy then.
He washed his hands, and went up the wooden stairs, to the office. There were a number of people, all apparently busy doing whatever they do in offices. To Sean, it looked exactly like in the films. Girls clacking away on noisy typewriters, and men moving around, in coats and ties, with pieces of paper. He asked a passing girl where Miss Leedy was, and approached a blonde with the highest hair style he had ever seen. "Miss Leedy? I'm Sean from the store. Mr. Lumper sent me up."
She eyed him up and down, then, with an expression, which could have been anything, Sean hoped approval, she pressed a button on an intercom and announced to whoever, that Sean McCauley was here. Then indicated a door. He smiled, showing his teeth, then knocked and entered.
A balding man sat behind a large wooden desk, covered with books and papers. "Ah, McCauley. I've been checking personnel records, and we seem not to have sighted your birth certificate."
Sean winced. This was bound to come. "I don't have one. We moved a bit and lots of things went amiss. I come from Melbourne." He hoped this might be just enough.
"Well, policy is we should see it. See what you can do, soon." The last word was stressed. "The other reason, I wanted to see you, is that Mr. Lumper has spoken quite highly of you. Of your work. We have an opening in our administration department, for an assistant. Initially finance, then sales. Are you interested"
This took the wind out of Sean, for a few seconds. 'I don't believe it', he thought, 'and ironic. Back towards where he was, once.' "Most certainly. Thank you."
"Good. You'll start on a month's trial, from, say, next Monday. We would expect you to do a study course at Tech. If it doesn't work out, I would imagine a vacancy may still be available in the store, but one can't be certain."
"I'll be here, Monday morning." Sean didn't dare to ask about money, but guessed it would be more. Help especially if a baby was coming.
"That’s all then. Oh, don't forget about the birth certificate. Some things can't be overlooked." Then he bent down and started writing. A sinking feeling in Sean's stomach, about the last statement. He left the office, and stopping by Miss. Leedy, "What time Monday?"
"She crossed her legs, and gave him one of those smiles, that suggested she could help in all office, and other, matters. "Nine sharp. Look forward to seeing more of you, Sean."
"Thanks. But unless it's on Bondi Beach, probably not. My wife's a bit old fashioned." Another cheesy grin, returned by a shrug of her shoulders, and he left.
'Kelly will double up when I tell her that', he thought. It wasn't until he was back in the store, that he realised, he never found out the manager's name.
That night, they both thought it had been a good day. He had a promotion, albeit it may not last long, and they both were invited to a party. They took a walk, and when passing the newsagent, the notice in the window, caught his eye. He drew Kelly's attention to it, and it gave them some anticipation. They would come a bit earlier to the tram, in the morning, and when the newsagent was open.
* * * * *
Allan and Robert were up early, one reason was to use the hotel's bathroom, often a wait, and the other, so Robert could get a train down to Burwood, to start work.
Breakfast wasn't part of the deal for them, so they grabbed a bite and a cuppa, down near the station, on the other side, and Robert, rushed off. They had agreed, that Allan would check out the refuge, and let Robert know at the shop.
Last night had been a bit of an emotional wrench to Allan, probably compounded by their unbelievable situation. He wished there was someway, they could just get back to 1998. He wracked his brains, on how Michael J. Fox did it, in 'Back to the Future', but couldn't remember the story line. Anyway there were no mad inventors about, and he started to get upset up again.
He bought another cup of tea, and decided to walk to Ashfield. 'Why not', he thought, 'it was a nice day, and since a lack of money made doing the tourist thing, a bit awkward, I need to fill in the day.'
He took about an hour, and found himself in the shopping centre, wondering where one finds a shelter. The council chambers seemed a logical step, and a visit there, directed him to a laneway at the end of the business section. Some less unfortunates, made his instincts sure it was the right laneway. Inside a large door, he found an office adjoining the big eating hall, and a middle aged man, in a religious collar, furiously writing in a book.
"Come back at five when....." He had looked up and realised, Allan was not the usual type who came here. "Sorry. Thought you were one of the locals. What can I do?" His eyes had circles under them, and a worn out feeling, pervaded his being.
"Actually, I might be classed as a local. My friend and I have just arrived from the country. He started a job, today as a matter of fact, and we need a steer in the direction of finding somewhere to live. Until he gets paid on Friday, cash is a bit low."
"Oh. Well, like I said, if you come back after five, there's a basic meal, very basic mind you, and a dormitory. You may not be familiar with the dormitory, but when you go to sleep, leave your shoes on, or you could lose them. To most people here, it's all they have. But it's dry and warm."
"I don't think I could cope. Think my mate would agree. Any idea where we could stay this week, without paying in advance?" Allan was starting to sound a little strained.
The minister looked at him, but took his time in replying. "You spend each day, here, helping me, and I might know someone who could help you. I can’t pay you. That ought to be obvious. But Sylvia, a lady who is very good to us with food, and I never ask where she gets it, runs a guest house. Down in Leichhardt. If I ask her to wait until the weekend, for her money, she might. No promises.”
“Will do. Anything you want, consider it done. But you must have plenty of offers from the people who stay here?” Allan was curious.
“It’s a paradox of nature, unfortunately. Never happens. The will to get on and live, has died in most of them. It becomes just an existence, which seems to override everything else.”
Allan interrupted this line of information. The thought of accommodation, was a most pressing one. "The lady. Sylvia."
"Oh yes. I need to go next door to the iron mongers, and ring up. Add up these numbers, if you will. Back shortly." Allan was left on his own. The numbers presented little problem. Apart from a ticking clock, no noise permeated the building. Allan felt his hair. He could use some decent shampoo and conditioner, and for that matter, a hair blower. 'Probably not for twenty years, yet. Looks like Sunlight Soap tonight.'
About five minutes late, the manager was back. "She agrees. For my sake, please pay as soon as you can. We need her." He wrote down the address on a piece of paper, and gave it to Allan. "Now to work. Can you drive a truck? We need to go to Concord, to pick up some stuff."
"I'm a quick learner." Allan thought that was a pretty good one liner.
The crash gearbox was not so easy, but twice up and down the lane, and he felt he could managed on the roads. They did a quick stop in Burwood, and Allan dived into Moran and Cato's, and let Robert know about the room. Neither had a clue when they would get there, but that was a minor issue.
Whilst Allan spent the day, helping Bernie, collecting food and other stores, then organising the meals, Robert found his day passable, but very tiring. He was not used to being on his feet all day. At 5pm, it was close up, and after a wash, decided on a chance, that the elusive Myra, might be at the Blue Bell. There were several customers, but no sign of her, or the previous lady. He decided on a light snack and tea, Actually it was not a bad day. The manager, at afternoon smoko, called him to the back store, and offered a pound note. "Advance on the week's wages. I sense you might need it." It was greatly received. Since his day's labour would have covered it, the manager wasn't going to be out of pocket, if he called it quits. However it was a nice gesture.
He gave his order, and sat looking out the window. "Your order sir." He looked up, and straight into the face of the lady, that had stirred his thoughts, last weekend.
He quickly stood up. "Well. I took up your offer, and here I am."
"Myra. And you have a name? Not that it makes any difference." He couldn't take his eyes away from her face. There was something captivating. "No name. Well I will have to give you one."
"I have one," he said quickly, and blushed. "Robert. Robert Forsythe," and stuck out his hand.
"So formal," a pause followed, "Robert." She took it. "Any more children saved, to grow up into responsible adults?"
He laughed. " No. Thought I'd give up that line of work."
"What is your line of work, assuming there is one?" She still stood. A scarf was tied tightly around her neck, the loose ends draped over her left shoulder.
"The fortunes of war," he replied. "It's difficult to explain. Even to myself. Business agent, normally. Currently over at Moran and Cato's store. Back room."
She didn't blink an eye. "I suggest you eat your meal. I run a business. Maybe there could be a need for a 'business agent'." I have some items to attend to. Perhaps you might come again."
"Yes. A long talk, away from business surroundings. I really need to talk to....I mean, It would be my pleasure." He was getting lost from his normal reserve. "Talking is not my only quality." He immediately felt his face heat up, and imagined how red it must be. This last statement was a bit over the top. "What am I doing?', he thought. "I mean, I listen and...."
She interrupted him, "Good. I find a man who has, many qualities, a lot more stimulating. I must go, before the business falls about my ears, or where ever business's fall. Say Thursday evening. About seven."
Robert, for the first time in his mature life, was starting to feel physically uncomfortable. He grabbed her hand. " 'Till Thursday," and with a slight smile, quickly turned, and walked out the door. The cool air of night, went some way to restoring his mind, and body. The thought of a half consumed meal, still on the plate, only brought another smile.
He walked to the railway station, bought a pie, and caught a train down to Ashfield. The address was easy to find, mostly due to the large number of shabbily dressed males, hanging about the laneway, drinking, obviously wine or sherry. He went inside, and stood at the back, a couple of helpers, busy moving people between a dining hall and another entrance. Allan appeared, with a pile of blankets on his shoulder, saw Robert, gave a wave and disappeared.
Around eight o'clock, Allan came out, with the manager, and introduced him. "Hard worker, your friend," said the manager, "but I can manage from here. You two need to see your room at Sylvia's. Catch you tomorrow, Allan, early as you can. Bye," and walked off.
Allan had previously asked the way, and they hopped a train to Petersham and a tram to almost outside the boarding house. A large three story terrace, the verandas filled in. Sylvia turned up at the door when they rang. She could have run any establishment, boarding or bawdy, a thought crossing both men's minds, at the same time. She was large, with an enormous bouncing chest, and bright orange hair. Her age was, they agreed later, about fifty or so. She had roving eyes, and a large amount of make up.
"My, My," she said as she led them up two flights of stairs, "Bernie has good taste. Most of what I see at the refuge, is too far gone, if you know what I mean, but you gentlemen look professional." Robert wondered if she was 'professional'.
The fluffy slippers, reminded Robert of his mother's. She showed them a room on the top floor, small, but clean, quoted the tariff, and invited them for a sherry. They looked at each other, and followed her back downstairs. She had rooms, closest the front door. Lots of curtains, and scatter rugs, and a parrot in a large cage, in the front window. The door to the bedroom was shut. She chatted, as they drank, but declined a refill. The heaving bosoms, and the effect of previous sherries, suggested a quick retreat.
"Come into the parlour, said the spider to the fly," quoted Allan as they went back upstairs.
"If you're desperate enough."
Allan was laughing. “Can’t decide if you'd fall in and disappear, or bounce off the ceiling."
"That is crude," said Robert, "but I aint gonna find out."
* * * * *