

## A Woman's Place

### The Way it was

### Originally titled All Naked & Bare

## Janice Gallen

Published by Janice Gallen at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 © Janice Gallen

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1968 to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The ideas and opinions expressed by the author in "A Womans Place" are entirely fictitious

Janice wishes to thank Helen Ellis for editing, Shauna Waters for encouragement, and her husband Ron for being her rock. Janice's Toowong based writing group has prompted, prodded and inspired her to keep going and accomplish her goal.

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### Chapter One

### October 1956

The dogs were barking.

They woke her, but Kathryn didn't want to open her eyes. Pulling the blankets over her head didn't help. The Dark scared her, and it became worse with her head buried beneath the bedclothes, so she pushed them away. If she hid under there and a burglar came into her room, she wouldn't be able to see him.

She liked to be nearly asleep before Mum turned out her light. Then she wouldn't have to put up with all the scary thoughts racing about in her mind, when it was night-time and evil shadows crept around her. Even when her bladder felt like it was going to burst, she refused to pull out the piddle pot from under her bed. She especially didn't want to lean over and shine her torch there. A snake could be lurking, and everyone knew that once you flashed a light in a snake's eyes it would attack and bite you, and kill you with its poison.

Her grandmother had told her horror stories of when Great Grandmother Patton sailed in a big ship from England and settled in Queensland. She'd had to check everywhere every single night, because once she'd removed her sheets to discover a huge red-bellied black snake in her bed.

Kathryn didn't live in Queensland. That didn't matter, because she knew there were snakes in New South Wales. Shuddering, she squeezed her eyes tighter. Straight away she knew that was the wrong thing to do, because now the sounds became clearer. A slight breeze blew through her bedroom window and the brown blind clunked. Then her neck tingled when she heard rustling in the corner amongst a pile of Archie and Phantom comics. Could it be a mouse? That thought was nearly as terrifying as thinking about snakes.

Clenching her fists, she made herself imagine she was doing something soothing, like reading the new Famous Five book she'd borrowed from her primary school library.

The rowdy yapping started again. Why did they have to bark so loudly and wake all the neighbours? Kathryn needed to open her eyes. Slowly, so slowly, she peeped through her lashes. Moonlight shining through her lacy bedroom curtains produced a swirling pattern on the top of her pink chenille bedspread. Watching the shapes form and move was creepy. For a moment she became caught up, fascinated by the images she created in her mind, and forgot why she'd decided to open her eyes.

The dogs began to go crazy. Even Laddie gave one woof. Then nothing. He was probably telling the others to be quiet in doggie talk. He was such a good boy. Why did the Weston family have big noisy dogs? They were silly, making so much of a fuss. Most likely because leaves were blowing around, or perhaps a cat had wandered by.

She was kidding herself. She knew why the dogs barked.

Straining her ears, she concentrated on the street outside. And then she heard it. What she'd been waiting for. What she'd been half-hoping she'd hear, because she knew he was safely home, but dreading, because she knew how he'd be. Her father's voice came through, warbling, deep and off-key. "Give me land, lots of land under starry skies above. Don't fence me in".

Kathryn's belly turned over. She wanted to look up to her father all the time, but when he stumbled and slurred his speech, it was as if he were another man, not the wonderful father she loved more than anyone else.

Pushing her fingers into her ears, Kathryn squirmed inside at the racket his voice made, before taking her fingers out and hiding them under her bum. What if Dad found her trying to block out his singing? What a horrible thing to do! Her father would never be nasty to her. He always showed interest in her schoolwork and hardly ever raised his voice. She folded her hands tightly together. She wished he could sing better, that was all. There was nothing wrong with that. Then everyone wouldn't be cringing when they heard him come past every Friday night.

She knew that Mrs. Weston would be making fun of Dad, probably Mr. Weston as well. Mr. Weston was "under the thumb", or so Mum said. He wasn't game enough to have a drink. Sometimes Kathryn wished that Mum had Dad under her thumbs.

Dad sang a few favourite songs: Don't Fence Me In, My Blue Heaven, Old Man River, and another one Kathryn was sure he'd made up - I saw a lady on a white horse riding down George Street, all naked and bare. She had a rainbow 'round her shoulder and the sky of blue above. I said "Ain't you cold?" She said " Don't be bold, 'cause I'm in love."

His wobbly voice, loud and happy, sounded closer now. Kathryn knew he must be at the front gate. She heard her mother open the door to wait for him. She wanted to close her eyes again, to blot out the sounds, but that wasn't possible. She'd have to see her father, the intelligent, good-looking man who seemed to be able to answer all her questions about the world, and he wouldn't be the same. Not tonight. No, tonight he'd be just like the drunks she noticed outside the pub, when Mum sent her to the boot maker to get their shoes mended. And she didn't want to see him like that.

She heard a loud thumping and then her father's slurred voice. 'Help me up, Polly.'

'You drunken bastard! Falling up the steps. I hope you haven't ripped your trousers again. Look at the state you're in.'

Although her mother spoke angry words, Kathryn listened closely and knew Mum wasn't cranky. If Mum knew Dad had fallen down drunk in front of people who didn't drink, then she would be furious. But Mum sounded as though she was pleased Dad was home. Kathryn could understand, because now he'd come inside and stopped singing, she giggled. There wasn't anything funny to laugh at, but her belly didn't feel scrunched up anymore and she wanted to laugh. Sometimes, she imagined Dad got run over when he stumbled home drunk. Now he'd arrived home, and the dark shadows in her room weren't anywhere near as scary.

Her father's voice came from inside the front hallway. 'Where's my beautiful daughter? Where's my Kathryn?'

'She's asleep. Just like I was before you made so much noise. Now, get inside and get ready for bed.'

Kathryn felt amazed at the way her mother spoke to her father when he was drunk. Mum sounded like she was speaking to a small child. There was no chance that Mum would talk to Dad like that when he was sober.

'Got to see Kathryn first.' Dad sounded as though he'd made up his mind.

Struggling to focus her eyes in the dimness, Kathryn waited. Her bedroom door stood open and she concentrated in that direction, until she could make out her father staggering into the room. Briefly closing her eyes, she tried not to make out his swaying form. She didn't want to see him looking like a drunk, not her handsome father. Then he leant over her and kissed her wetly on the cheek.

'I love you,' her dad said, and began to cry.

A hot flush began in Kathryn's neck and spread all the way to the tips of her ears. Just as well nobody could see her clearly. Sometimes Dad embarrassed her. Men weren't supposed to cry. Her mother hardly ever cried, yet her father gave in easily to tears when he was drunk. It seemed unmanly, especially when his nose started to run. Run wasn't the right word. His nose gushed when he cried. Kathryn sometimes wondered if it was all the beer coming out.

'It's all right,' her mum said, looping her arm through his and pulling him away towards the door. 'Let's leave Kathryn go back to sleep'.

'What'shup? Ish he pished again?' The voice cut through the air, streaming into Kathryn's bedroom and attacking her ears. She sucked at her bottom lip. Nana Phillips hovered in the doorway, her white nightdress looking ghostly in the shimmering moonlight.

Her mother sighed. 'Go back to bed, Mum. Everything's okay.

Nana Phillips took her false teeth out when she went to bed. Kathryn hoped she wouldn't come closer. Sometimes it frightened her to look at her old grandmother with her crinkly face and her mouth all gummy and sunken in.

'No it'sh not okay,' Nana said, before turning to walk away. 'I thold you no good would come oth you marrying into thath family'.

I'm as good as the next man.' Her father spoke quietly. He became Kathryn's real father again, the man she looked up to.

Kathryn waited for Nana's argument, but she must have obeyed her daughter and returned to her room. Nana's comment didn't make any sense. Kathryn knew her dad was an orphan; Mum had told her when she'd asked about her other grandparents. Nothing Nana said lately made sense, but the person who puzzled her most was her father.

Her fifth class teacher, Mr. Downey, had told all her schoolmates about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and she'd thought about it and knew it was her father. Of course he wasn't a murderer, or ever likely to be. The only time he raised his voice was when he sang. But the quiet dignified man she lived with wasn't the same man who came home on Friday and Saturday nights.

Sometimes she wished he could be more like the Friday man during the week, because that was the only time he kissed her; the only time he told her he loved her. She'd watched some of the other kids at school with their parents and they were always hugging each other. Not her parents. Neither her mother nor her father cuddled her; and the only time Dad kissed her was when he was drunk.

Kathryn shook her head. How could she think like that? She lived in one of the nicest houses in Merthyr Vale and her parents didn't hit her. Some of her friends were always getting belted. She'd noticed David Mullen's arms one day at school. He'd pretended he'd fallen over, but she knew he'd lied, when she'd seen his arm. Long red welts with dark purple bruises covered his skin.

On that day Kathryn gave thanks she had Mum and Dad, not some other parents. And as she thought about it, she supposed what she had now wasn't too bad. She wore the prettiest clothes in her class and her mother cooked yummy cakes.

Closing her eyes, she felt the dampness from her lashes on her cheeks. She'd been crying again. She hated the way her skin went rosy when people talked to her, but most of all she hated that she couldn't stop tears from falling, every time anyone else cried. One thing she remained sure about was she would never cry because she'd drunk too much. She hated stinky beer, whether it was poured into a glass or she could smell it on someone's breath. And worst of all, when she had to walk past the pub and breathe in the horrible stench filling the air, it made her want to choke. At least Dad usually smelled nice.

Two loud thumps echoed from the front bedroom: her father's shoes. The bed creaked and she heard her mother's muffled voice.

"For goodness sake, Chip, lift your arse so I can get your trousers off.'

'Don't interfere with me, Polly.'

Her mother laughed and closed the bedroom door.

Kathryn listened some more, but she could hear nothing, only the occasional croaking of a frog from Burgoyne's next door. After what had happened tonight, thoughts tumbled around, especially about what Nana Phillips had said. Knowing the best way to overcome sleeplessness was to count sheep, she closed her eyes and began imagining sheep jumping over a fence. They kept getting stuck, stopping in mid-air. It seemed like forever before the rotten sheep began to behave and she drifted off.

After waking later than usual, Kathryn hurried out into the dining room, where her father sat at the cream wooden table, his face hidden behind the morning newspaper.

'You're up then, sleepyhead. Would you like some eggs for breakfast?' Mum stood in the doorway between the dining room and kitchen. She looked happy and Kathryn felt glad. Sometimes Mum looked sad and Kathryn wanted to wrap her arms around her, but Kathryn wouldn't be game enough to do that. Mum would probably laugh at her or push her away. Mum liked to cuddle babies, not bigger children.

Before pulling out a chair to sit opposite her father, Kathryn asked her mother if she could have a cup of cocoa with her eggs. Lowering the huge Newcastle Morning Herald, Jim (or Chip as he was known to family and friends) Carpenter dipped his head and gave her a wink.

'Have anything special planned for today?'

Kathryn drew in a breath. Was now the best time to ask? She always approached her mother first. Mum would usually agree to any argument or proposition. Her dad was a different matter. He said yes or no and that was it. No argument. She wouldn't consider trying to persuade him.

'Can I go to the pictures this afternoon?' she blurted, taking a chance.

Can't see why not,' he answered, turning back to his newspaper.

Dropping her gaze to her plate, Kathryn tried to concentrate on the delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs with melted cheese her mother placed before her, but she couldn't stop the guilty flush flaming her face. She knew something her parents didn't. They rarely went to the pictures and they didn't know what was on. Of course, they wouldn't mind her seeing Ma & Pa Kettle, but there was always a double feature at the Roxy.

Lady Godiva was the other picture. Another blush burned through her, as she thought about her deception. The trailer had been on last week and she'd seen Maureen O'Hara on a horse, with her beautiful red hair hanging down. Apparently she didn't have any clothes on. Of course, even though Kathryn had tried, she couldn't see Lady Godiva's naked body. Perhaps there would be more to see today.

Little shivers ran up Kathryn's spine and she gulped her breakfast, trying to ignore the tingles zipping through her body. Just as well her parents hadn't asked what was on, because she couldn't lie to them. She was pretty sure they wouldn't like her watching Lady Godiva.

She frowned as a thought came to her. Did Dad sing about Lady Godiva riding down George Street? Should she ask him? One glance at her father, upright and engrossed in his newspaper, decided the matter. She couldn't ask him about something that happened when he was the Friday Man. If she wanted to know about the countries in the British Empire or who Buddha was, then Dad answered her straight away; but it wouldn't be right to ask him about things he did when he became the other man.

With her plate in her hand, Kathryn walked into the kitchen to put it on the sink for her mother to wash afterwards. Kathryn's job was to wipe up, as her mother called it.

'Mum?' she yelled.

'Out here with Nana.'

Their fibro house, although one of the larger homes in the small coal mining village of Merthyr Vale, wasn't huge, comprising three spacious bedrooms, a lounge room with a piano, a kitchen, a dining room and a bathroom. The wash house and dunny stood in the backyard.

Finding her mother didn't prove difficult. In the back bedroom, just off the kitchen, she knelt at Nana's feet, helping her put on her shoes.

'Watch my tits!' Nana exclaimed, when her daughter stood up to fix the belt on her floral dress.

'Mum, where's your brassiere?'

Kathryn remained in the doorway. She didn't want to help, especially when Nana talked like that. It was bad enough saying "breasts", but talking about your private parts in such a horrible way didn't feel right. Besides, she could see the shape of Nana's breasts under her dress. They were hanging down to her waist and she didn't want to see anything like that, or even think about it.

'Some bastard's stolen it,' Nana said, staring directly at Kathryn.

Her whole body on fire, Kathryn turned away. She would let her mother know she was going to the pictures later.

Nana Phillips became stranger every day. Sometimes she wandered out of her bedroom with nothing on but her underwear. Although she occasionally behaved peculiarly, at other times Nana wanted to spend time with Kathryn, sitting and listening to the stories Kathryn wrote. Nana would tell Kathryn how clever she was. And most importantly, she would have her false teeth firmly in place.

Hurrying into her bedroom, Kathryn thought about what she'd planned for today. Lady Godiva wasn't on until the afternoon, so she had all morning to enjoy. She put on a pink cotton around-the-yard dress and her sandals, planning to go next-door to ask Jane Burgoyne if she'd come to the pictures. Mrs. Burgoyne always agreed to let Jane do anything Kathryn did.

Her mother had other plans. 'Kathryn, I need you to go to the shop,' she called.

Kathryn didn't mind. The corner store, or Mrs. Ford's, stood on the end of her street only three hundred yards away, and her mother always gave her threepence to buy lollies. She went on a message to the shop for her mother quite often, as Mum bought almost all of their food there. Grocery deliveries came once a fortnight in a van from the same shop. Mum liked to go to the butcher's herself, in case the butcher tried to give Kathryn poor quality meat.

Owning a refrigerator made a difference to the number of times Kathryn needed to go on messages. The electric fridge kept the food much better than the old icebox that used to stand in the kitchen. The ice-o didn't call anymore and neither did the milkman. Mum bought the milk they used at the corner store. At present they had two different deliverymen. Tiger Towers brought fruit and vegetables in his small truck twice a week and Barney the Baker, as he was known, supplied the bread in the co-op store van every day, except for the weekend.

Kathryn liked to be present when the bread was brought into the house. She loved the enticing smell, but most of all she loved to break the aromatic tank loaf apart and pull off the top to eat, while the bread was still warm and fragrant. She had to be careful not to tear off too much, but sometimes when her mother cut into the loaf, the first slice had a hole in it.

She almost forgot. There was another important deliveryman – the dunny man. He carried in the clean sanitary pan especially early on a Friday morning and took away the full one. What a terrible job! Even if she was asleep, and she usually was, Kathryn knew when the dunny man came close to her home. First of all, she smelled the pong as the huge truck lumbered up the back lane. The choking fumes managed to get into her nostrils, whether she was properly awake or not.

And then there was Laddie. With his paws scraping on the lino and scattering the mats, the dog made quite a noise as he rushed past her bedroom door and into her parents' room, to hide under the bed. He wouldn't come out until the dunny man's truck had passed. No one in the family could work out why Laddie took cover, but Kathryn didn't blame him one bit.

Laddie lay inside the back door, keeping watch, she knew. Bending down, she patted the dog's soft black ears. 'Want to come to the shop with me?' Laddie wagged his stumpy tail.

'What do you want, Mum?' she asked.

'Here.' Mum placed a piece of paper in Kathryn's hand and a five-pound note in the other. 'Be careful you don't lose the change now.

Kathryn frowned. Why did her mother have to talk to her as though she were an idiot? She wasn't stupid. She was almost eleven, for heaven's sakes, and she always made sure to be careful with money. She couldn't complain, because her father was rolling a cigarette to smoke while he drank his second cup of tea and he would hear.

Dad didn't allow anyone, even her Mum to say unkind words about people. His favourite expression was "if you can't say something good, then say nothing". Of course, Kathryn had overheard her mother gossiping with Aunty Lil and Aunty Maggie. But that was when Dad had been digging in his vegetable garden, or he'd stopped at the pub.

Clutching a shopping bag, the five - pound note, a torn off edge from the newspaper, and with Laddie at her heels, Kathryn left the house, skipping through the gate and onto the dirt footpath. Mr Burgoyne stood in his front yard, loading some timber into a wheelbarrow.

'Hello Mr Burgoyne,' she called.

The small, olive skinned man looked up and grinned. 'Hello, Kath. How's your belly where the pig bit ya?'

Kathryn couldn't think of a reply, so she smiled and waved, hurrying towards the shop. Every time Mr Burgoyne saw her, he said the same thing. Either he thought it was very important or extremely funny. Kathryn didn't have a clue what he meant, but he always seemed friendly, at least when he was sober.

Telling Laddie to wait outside, she pushed open the screen door of the corner store and the bell above responded, tinkling prettily. It was cool and dim inside and for a minute she stood still, looking around till her eyes adjusted from the glare outside.

Counters formed a u-shape around the large room. A special fly-screened partition on the right stored the bacon and Empire sausage, to be cut on a huge slicer into the thickness customers asked for. An enormous wheel of cheese sat on a table in this small enclosed area and she was always fascinated to watch whoever served her cutting it off into the required portions so accurately.

Mrs. Ford, the owner, had an assistant, a young man named Tom, who liked to tease everyone. Actually, Kathryn only knew of one person he teased, and that was herself. Hoping Mrs. Ford would be behind the counter, Kathryn stepped forward to be able to see more clearly.

'What would you like today, Miss Carpenter?' The voice definitely didn't belong to Mrs. Ford.

Straightening the piece of crumpled newspaper, Kathryn looked at her mother's instructions.

'Let me guess,' Tom said, before she had a chance to speak, 'you'd like a writing pad.'

Lowering her head, Kathryn fought against the blush threatening to darken her cheeks. 'No thanks,' she mumbled and handed over the crinkly bit of paper.

Tom served her efficiently with 1/2 lb of butter, a packet of tea, a jar of vegemite and a packet of tobacco. Then he went into the screened off area again to get saveloys from the refrigerator. Kathryn knew she was drooling. Spicy saveloys with lashings of tomato sauce were one of her favourite lunches; she could almost taste them.

'Lollies?' Tom asked, putting the parcels together into her bag.

Smiling, Kathryn made her way to the best place in the whole shop, where a glass case showed a delicious display of loose lollies. It wasn't hard to choose, chocolate cobbers and liquorice allsorts were her favourite. And Tom put in a couple of extra jellybeans, giving her a wink and her mother's change as he did so. He really was a friendly man even if he liked to torment her.

Kathryn moved to the shop doorway and patted her leg. 'Laddie. Time to go.' Obediently trotting over to her, Laddie took up his usual position close behind, and they walked home.

'Put the butter and saveloys in the fridge,' her mother called out as soon as Kathryn opened the back door.

Kathryn wanted to go to Jane's; she'd had enough of helping. But she went into the dining room and did as her mother asked. She knew she wouldn't be putting things away in the dining room for much longer; she'd heard her parents discussing taking out the fuel stove and replacing it with an electric one. Then, once the electrician had installed a power point, the fridge would be moved into the kitchen.

The fuel stove took up almost one wall in the kitchen. As well as supplying cooking facilities, it had a tank attached to it where hot water was available, whenever the stove was lit. Kathryn could remember her mother filling a huge tin washtub in the centre of the kitchen floor for her to bathe. That was before they had the proper bathroom, with a white bath and a chip-heater to provide hot water.

In the middle of a freezing winter, when Jack Frost lay thick on the ground and the wind howled, Kathryn wished she could still enjoy the bath in front of the glowing fuel stove. Though back then, to give her some privacy, her mother had to chase her older brothers away into the lounge room, where an open fire afforded some warmth in the cold house.

But now it was spring and a warm day, and Kathryn wanted to make sure she had someone to sit with at the pictures.

'Can I go to Jane's?' she asked her mother, who was drying the last of the breakfast dishes.

'Don't stop too long,' Mum answered.

Kathryn saw her mother wasn't really listening, so she took off before she had to do any more jobs.

After running down the rear steps, past the smelly dunny and the chook pen near the back fence, she hurried along the lane and into the Burgoyne's yard, managing to keep her distance from the squawking geese. Suddenly she stopped; something was wrong. There was no door on Burgoyne's house. Puzzled, she ran up to the unpainted wooden steps, knocked on the doorjamb and called out, yelling so she could be heard over the sound of hammering coming from inside.

Her blonde-haired friend, who reminded Kathryn of one of her pretty dolls, came to the doorway. 'Hello, Kathryn. Are you going to the pictures?'

Kathryn nodded. She knew it wasn't polite to be a sticky beak, but she had to ask. 'Jane, where's your door?'

Jane glanced behind, then motioned for Kathryn to go down the steps and into the yard.

'Dad's in trouble,' she whispered. 'He came home drunk last night and Mum threw his tea at him. You should have seen the yellow mess the curry made on the walls. Dad got really mad and sawed off the back door to make a coffin for Mum. And this morning he had to ride his bike to the hardware store really early to get some timber, so he can make a better door to put back on.

Chapter Two

October 1956.

'Would you like me to read to you, Mum?' Polly wiped the last of the flour from her hands onto her apron, before looking into her mother's room.

Polly had become used to that – calling it "her mother's room". The boys slept there all their lives, till they married one by one. For the past four months and five days her mother had made it hers. At first, Polly didn't mind Ada moving in. Someone in the family needed to step forward to take care of her. But it wasn't easy becoming accustomed to having an extra person in the house to look after, even if it was a loved one.

'Mum, what on earth are you doing now?' Polly's eyes adjusted to the darker surroundings and she could see the mess her mother had made. Clamping her lips together, she stopped herself from saying anything more. Christ, she wasn't a saint, but dealing with Ada's odd behaviour every day set her nerves on edge.

Ada Phillips sat on the side of her double wooden-frame bed, the contents of the top drawer of her dressing table spilled over the bedspread.

'I'm looking for my black earrings. Someone's stolen them.'

Polly sighed. It seemed that Ada thought everything was being taken lately. As long as nobody believed her, then it would be okay. But Polly didn't fancy having to defend herself to anyone, especially her sister, Maggie, who hadn't yet realised their mother was quite forgetful.

'Nobody's stolen anything, Mum. Here, I'll help you look for them. You know your eyesight isn't as good as it used to be.'

After lowering herself onto the bed, Polly rummaged through for a few minutes, before picking up the onyx clip-on earrings. 'Is this what you're looking for?'

Her mother eyed her suspiciously. 'How did you find them so quick?'

'Just put them on, Mum, and then you can come and help me. I'm going to signal to Maggie and Lil to see if they'll come over for afternoon tea. You'd like that, wouldn't you?'

Gathering all Ada's jewellery and the mementos she insisted on keeping, Polly piled them back in the drawer and closed it. There was no need to try to be tidy. How long it would be before her mother tipped it all out again wasn't worth thinking about.

She glanced around the room. Everything remained much the same as when Charlie, the youngest, married six months ago, except the bed. Where the boys had three single beds squashed into the room, now her mother's double bed stood in the centre, with lots of space on either side. Polly had to admit it looked like it belonged, had been here forever.

'Come on, Mum,' she said, taking Ada's thin arm in hers. 'Let's go find some tea towels.

With the linen in their hands, they moved down the back steps to the yard. There they collected pegs from the outside washhouse and hung the patterned towels in a row on the clothesline. The message needed to be precise. Four tea towels meant, "Come over for afternoon tea".

Polly knew her sisters always kept their eyes pealed for a signal, just as she used to. Nowadays, there was no way she would be able to walk over to the other side of town with her mother. Ada's frail legs wouldn't make the distance. Up to a few months ago, before her mother moved in, she would go over to one of her sisters' homes at least once a week, while Kathryn went to school. There they could catch up on some sewing and gossip. Remembering the hilarity they enjoyed, Polly smiled. She couldn't take pleasure in a little bit of scandal around Chip, but exchanging tit-bits of juicy tittle-tattle with her older sisters was great fun.

One day, she promised herself, she and her sisters would own a telephone like Dr. Ramage and Mrs. Ford. There was no point now; she didn't have enough use for it. Fortunately her sisters lived on a hill adjacent to the pit chimneystack. Their homes were situated high enough for them to be able to see the clue she'd posted, even if they needed binoculars. She wished they lived closer to her; at least they were within walking distance of each other.

'Good afternoon, Mrs. Carpenter, Mrs. Phillips.'

Turning from hoisting the clothesline with the new prop Chip had brought home from the pit, Polly was faced with Mr. Callaghan standing behind her. He touched the brim of his felt fedora and flutters twirled in her belly. What was happening to her? The sight of a well-dressed man shouldn't make her feel like a nervous teenager.

She reached for her apron strings, but decided against removing it, instead smoothing the old checked apron down. If Chip had expected Mr. Callaghan today and hadn't warned her, she'd have a few words to say to him later.

'Hullo. I didn't hear your car,' she said, immediately wishing she'd said something more interesting.

She should have heard him arrive. Very little traffic travelled on the street in front of their house. That was understandable, as only one family in their street owned a car; some still pedalled a bicycle, but most walked.

'Who are you?' Ada said rudely.

Polly knew her cheeks turned pink; she could feel the warmth. Where was her formerly well-mannered mother?

'You remember Mr. Callaghan, Mum,' she said, looping her arm through her mother's, and hoping the contact would quieten Ada. 'He's the under manager of the pit and writes the column in the local paper you like me to read to you.' She pointed to the far corner of the yard, where her husband bent, almost hidden, attending to his flourishing vegetable patch. 'Chip's in the garden.'

Clinging on tightly so her mother wouldn't follow him, Polly watched the distinguished middle-aged man approach Chip. Laddie lay on the ground close to where Chip worked. Being remarkably intelligent for a bitser, Laddie wouldn't bark at Mr Callaghan.

Laddie's mother was a miniature Fox Terrier, and Laddie had been a tiny ball of white with black ears and a few black spots, when her sister Lil gave him to them. Then Laddie grew rather large. Some might say he looked a little strange with his docked tail, but to Polly he was the most beautiful, smartest dog she'd ever seen, with his lovely black and white face and black ears.

Watching Mr Callaghan bend down and ruffle Laddie's ears, Polly admitted she was a little in awe of Chip's visitor. Her own schooling finished when she turned fourteen and she hadn't missed it one bit. Academic subjects never interested her. Not like Chip, who had been even younger when he left school, but nowadays grabbed every opportunity he could to keep up with political events, both in Australia and worldwide.

Chip relished Mr. Callaghan's visits. They would always have some sort of political discussion. Mr. Callaghan, who lived in a large town about five miles west, sought Chip out on a regular basis to talk about politics and union matters. Her husband kept up to date, especially about the mining industry.

Sometimes Chip talked to her about his concerns. Her usually calm husband became agitated when he talked about "that bastard Chifley", who had turned against his own and brought the army into the miners' strike in '49. Chip had been there, had witnessed the brutality, though he had to be very drunk to tell her anything about it.

Now, the issue that troubled him most was the Democratic Labor Party or "Disguised Liberal Party" as Chip liked to call it. He hated the DLP with a passion she'd rarely seen him exhibit, hated especially the way the Catholic led organisation attacked the Communist Party. Although he wasn't a member of the Communist Party, Chip supported the principles of the working man, mateship and the reliability of the unions.

Polly suspected there might be another reason why Chip disliked the DLP so vehemently. His background, particularly his relationship with his mother, could have something to do with it. But there was no way she was going to bring that up. She doubted he would admit it, even to himself. He liked to believe he possessed enough integrity to not let other people's behaviour influence his decisions.

Knowing Chip had the brains to do better than being a shot-firer in the mine, she tried to talk him into going for the certification to become a mine deputy, but he point-blank refused. She couldn't understand why, although she suspected it was mainly because he wanted to remain with his mates, and be one of the regular blokes.

'Been reading your red rag again, Chip?' Mr. Callaghan called out referring to the communist Common Cause newspaper Chip devoured every week.

Polly saw her husband smile, and for a wonderful moment he became the young man who swept her off her feet thirty, or was it thirty-two years ago? She'd only been fifteen when she met him. She'd been attracted by his good looks and flirted outrageously with him, letting him know he stirred her interest. Everyone told them they were too young, but they survived. More than survived. They owned their own home; their children were building happy lives; and they enjoyed good health.

Having family around gave Polly more pleasure than any other thing in her life. After all, things were just "things", but a family lasted forever. Sometimes she wished they had more time together to enjoy each other's company. Family singsongs around the piano were rarely held now her sons were married and had little children. And although she didn't like to think about it, the pubs closing at ten instead of six had put an end to the two of them going to the pictures on a Friday or Saturday.

Of course, nowadays the pubs late closing wasn't the only reason she couldn't go out with Chip and Kathryn to the pictures. Her mother was in bed most nights by seven, and Polly didn't like to leave her alone. Ada was becoming very forgetful about things and needed constant attention.

'I'm going inside. The sun's too hot,' her mother said, interrupting her thoughts.

It was quite warm for an October afternoon. Nodding, Polly took her mother's arm to help her up the steps. She would have liked to stop to see what she could glean from Chip's conversation with Mr. Callaghan, because her husband hardly ever told her what was going on with the unions. But she needed to keep moving, get the scones into the oven, so she had something extra nice to serve to her sisters.

'Yoohoo! Anyone home?'

Recognising her older sister Maggie's voice, Polly rushed to the back door to greet her. Everything was ready; the dining room table was set, a pretty rose patterned tablecloth covering the wooden table.

'Where's Lil?' she asked, ushering Maggie into the dining room, where their mother sat eyeing off the butterfly cakes and lemon meringue pie Polly had baked earlier that day.

'She didn't want to visit me. No one wants to visit me anymore. I'm just a silly old woman,' Ada said mournfully.

'Oh Mum,' Maggie bent close to her mother and kissed her on the cheek. 'You know we love you. Lil couldn't make it today.' Looking up, she caught her sister's eye, and shook her head.

'Mum, I'm just going to show Maggie the new roses Chip planted. We'll be back in a tic. Have a cake,' Polly said, knowing that would please her mother.

Neither Maggie nor Polly spoke as they hurried up the hallway and out the door. Polly didn't want to speak, to ask, because already her stomach was clenched, waiting for the inevitable news. They were barely outside on the front steps, when Polly grabbed Maggie's arm. 'It's Fred, isn't it?

Her sister nodded. 'He's coughing up worse than ever. Bloody pits! I'm so thankful my Arthur became a deputy and doesn't have to suffer as much from the rotten coal dust'.

'What did the doctor say?' Polly asked, choosing to ignore the tactless comment.

Now she didn't see Lil as much, Polly wanted to have a closer relationship with Maggie, but it seemed every time Maggie opened her mouth, prickles irritated Polly's skin. Even though there was six years between herself and Maggie, they'd fought from the moment they were old enough to talk; and nothing had changed.

Maggie frowned. 'The same as usual. Wait and see. There's nothing he can do. Fred's lungs are stuffed, dusted. And, as usual the chief dicks at the mine won't have anything to do with compensation. They brought in their own doctor and said it was smoking too much that's caused it. What a load of bloody rubbish.'

'I hope he doesn't suffer the same way Dad did.' For a moment an image of her father, wracked with pain, coughing up chunks of blood as he fought for every laborious breath, came into Polly's mind. She shook her head determined to shut out any distressing reflections.

'He will. They all do. Do you know how many men in our small town have died from being dusted?' There was a slight catch in Maggie's voice and she coughed to clear it.

Polly knew Maggie didn't require an answer. The death toll amongst the men in Merthyr Vale was never discussed, although most of those who had died before their time had succumbed to the insidious coal dust. The few who had died from fall-ins were remembered as dead colleagues, but the manner of their deaths was not mentioned – ever. It was as though not talking about it might prevent it from happening again.

'I wish I could go and visit Lil,' she said, 'but I'd need someone to look after Mum.'

'How's Mum going?'

Polly frowned. 'I know it makes more sense for me to have her now I have the empty room, but I can't take my eyes off her for a minute. She's likely to wander off looking for Dad. She doesn't seem to realise he's been dead for sixteen years.

'You poor thing.' Maggie wrapped her arm around Polly's shoulder.

'I don't need your sympathy,' Polly said, shrugging away from her sister's touch. 'What I need is a break now and then. Couldn't you come over once a week to look after her while I go get my hair permed or catch a bus to the shops?'

'I'll see.'

It wasn't the answer Polly had hoped for, but deep down, she'd not expected anything else. Maggie usually managed to express the right sentiments, but action was unlikely to follow. Polly knew that her sister would eventually help out, but it would be in her time, on her terms, letting Polly know she was doing her a favour.

Sometimes Polly wondered if Maggie was really her sister. Both she and Lil would do anything for their loved ones, recognising that keeping the family together was the most important job any woman could have in her life.

'Let's go in,' Polly said, 'before Mum's eaten all the cakes and scones.

'Where's Kath today?' Maggie asked as they walked back up the hallway.

'Gone to the pictures.'

'And Chip?'

Polly gave her sister a scornful look. 'It's Saturday,' she said.

'I don't know why you put up with it.'

Clenching her teeth, Polly glared at her grey-haired sister. 'Most of the men in this town, those who still have their balls, go to the pub to try to forget the dangerous job they have to go back to every Monday.' Now she'd done it. She'd given her sister an excuse to go and not come back for a few weeks. There definitely would be no help offering with their mother.

'I'm thankful my Arthur is a deputy.' Maggie folded her arms across her buxom chest and stared angrily at Polly.

'So you said.' Blood rushed to Polly's head. She hated to argue with anyone, especially family, but her nerves were on edge these past few months and right now she wanted a fight, if only to clear the air.

'I've peed my pants.'

Looking down, Polly saw a small pool formed on the polished linoleum under her mother's chair. For a moment, the simmering anger she'd been feeling towards Maggie reached boiling point and she almost yelled at the old woman. Then she noticed her mother's eyes. Ada was confused, looking like a small child. Oh, Jesus, why had she let things get this bad? Her mother was frail and needed her patience, not her bad temper.

'What can I do?' Maggie said, tears evident in her eyes.

Help out. Help Mum. Help me. The words went unsaid, as Polly bit off her reply. She wanted to tell her sister that crying wouldn't help, especially the fake tears shining in Maggie's eyes. If her sister really cared, she'd be here more often, spending caring time with her mother.

'You can take Mum into the bathroom and undress her, while I get some clean clothes,' Polly said.

Between the two of them they managed to take care of Ada quickly and guide her back into the dining room.

'Are we going to have afternoon tea now?' Her mishap forgotten, Ada gleefully surveyed the table.

'Mum, haven't you had enough cake?' Maggie's expression was horrified.

Observing her sister's reaction to their mother, Polly made a special effort not to be bitchy. Surely Maggie realised by now what was happening?

Ada didn't disappoint. Folding her arms, she scowled at her daughter. 'Are you losing your mind or something? I haven't had any yet.

'It's all right Mum,' Polly said, 'sit down there and I'll make you a fresh pot of tea.

'Is she always like this?' Maggie had followed Polly to the kitchen and as usual wasn't offering any assistance.

'I've been trying to tell you, I need help.' Polly unsuccessfully tried to keep the note of exasperation out of her voice. She'd been looking forward to her sister's visit, now she didn't care if Maggie went home.

Her back gate closed with a click and she pulled back her kitchen curtains to have a better look.

'Arthur's here,' she said.

'What? What does he want?'

'He is your husband. Why don't you bloody - well ask him.'

Picking up the pot of tea to take into her mother, Polly left Maggie alone to open the back screen door and greet her husband.

'Here, Mum,' she said, pouring the tea. 'I might join you. We're going to have company.'

It wasn't long before Arthur, puffing from his walk, entered the dining room. Polly could never understand how Arthur made it to deputy. Rarely expressing an opinion of his own, her timid brother-in-law constantly bowed down to her sister's definite point of view. As far as Polly knew, Arthur enjoyed good health, although his pallid complexion belied that fact.

'Sit down, have a cuppa,' she said motioning for the 'Grey Ghost" as she secretly called him, to sit.

After removing his baggy cap, Arthur placed it on the chair beside him, exposing his comb-over balding hairstyle as he did so. 'Thanks, Polly. Don't mind if I do. I have some news,' he said seriously, picking up a slice of lemon meringue pie to put on his plate.

'Good news, I hope.' Polly tried to smile, but her lips seemed to be stuck to her teeth. Arthur rarely visited and she had a feeling he wasn't about to deliver information she wanted to hear.

'Depends.' Arthur took a spoonful of sugar and deliberately stirred it into his cup of tea.

'For Christ's sake, Arthur, tell us!' Maggie said.

Polly nodded her appreciation at her sister. She'd been tempted to kick Arthur in the shins.

'I've heard there's going to be a sit - in on Monday,' he said importantly, before taking a huge bite of pie.

'I hadn't heard,' Polly said. There hadn't been a sit-in since she was a young girl; it had taken place because of the miners wanting better conditions, and they'd won through.

'I remember the sit-in. It lasted for nearly a week,' Ada said.

Surprised at her mother's appropriate interruption, Polly looked towards Ada who'd been sitting quietly, eating cake and almost being ignored. Sometimes her mother could catch her unawares with her normal behaviour.

Chewing slowly on a large mouthful of food, Arthur nodded his head. 'It's a wonder Chip hasn't said anything. I thought he'd be in the know, having his finger on the union issues like he does.

'For heaven's sakes, Arthur, what do you know?' Maggie demanded.

'They're talking about replacing a lot of the miners with heavy equipment, bringing us up to date with mining in other parts of the world.' After gulping the last of his cup of tea, Arthur replaced his cap and stood, ready to leave. 'Are you coming?' he asked his wife.

'So what's going to happen?' Polly wished Chip were here, so she could find out more. Arthur had never been interested in the ordinary miners.

'Personally, I think they're wasting their time and money by striking. Mechanisation is going to happen whether the workers want it or not.'

Deep in thought, Polly walked to the door to see her visitors out. For once Arthur had expressed an opinion and she wished he hadn't. The horrible feeling churning in her gut told her he might be right

Chapter Three

October 1956

What a disappointment! Not caring if she scratched the toe of her new black patent leather shoe, Kathryn crankily kicked a pebble towards the unpainted wooden fence Ever since last Saturday when she'd seen the trailer, she'd looked forward to the pictures today, imagining what she would she would learn about human bodies. Everything was spoilt; now she'd never know. She could ask Dad just about anything, but what people looked like without clothes wasn't something she would talk about with her father. It wasn't even something she would mention to her mother.

'It was good, wasn't it?' said Jane. She was smiling and looking at Kathryn, waiting for her friend to answer.

'I love The Shadow. Victor Jory has the scariest voice.' Kathryn knew that wasn't what Jane meant, but she didn't give a hoot.

'I wasn't talking about the serial.' Jane gave her an accusing look. 'Or Ma & Pa Kettle, even if they were so funny it made my belly ache.'

'Oh, you mean Lady Godiva?' Kathryn lashed her foot out at another stone and almost said shit aloud when she missed it. Just as well she hadn't sworn, because she could see Sergeant Corcoran through the fence palings. He came out of the back door of the residence attached to the police station.

'Maureen O'Hara has to be the most beautiful lady I've ever seen with long red hair.'

They were dawdling home and Kathryn wished Jane would shut up about the stupid picture. She'd been chattering ever since they'd left the Roxy on the main road, crossed the side street and headed up the back lane.

'Don't you think so?' Jane persisted.

'Yes.' That should keep her happy. Kathryn didn't want to talk about Lady Godiva and her boring story. It hadn't been at all what she'd hoped for, especially as it looked like Maureen O'Hara's hair wasn't real and had been glued down. For heaven's sake, who could ride a horse, even on a day with no wind blowing, and have her hair stay in place?

'Watch where you're going! You almost stepped in horse manure.' Jane grabbed Kathryn's arm, pulling her away from the steaming pile that lay in the middle of the laneway.

'That's what you think.' Kathryn jammed her hands on her hips and faced her doll-faced friend.

'You really are in a bad mood, Kathryn. I don't know what you're going on about.

'You just called it horse manure, when everyone knows it's cow.

'It is horse manure. Why do you want to call it cow manure?

Kathryn scowled at her silly friend. 'Don't be stupid. That's round balls. There's nothing pretty about it. Look up there further,' She pointed to another pile of dung, almost hidden amongst the thick grass and weeds spreading out from the back fences of the miners' cottages. 'See that. It has pretty waves on the top. That belongs to a horse. A horse is much better looking than a cow, so it has prettier manure.

'You're the one that's stupid, Kathryn Carpenter. You have no idea what you're talking about, I'm going home.

Standing still for a moment, Kathryn watched Jane run ahead and into her yard. Jane might be the prettiest girl in her class, but she wasn't too bright. She didn't know the difference between horse and cow manure and she certainly didn't know a good picture when she saw it.

John Garfield and Rory Calhoun made the best pictures. Although her parents didn't know, she'd seen The Postman Always Rings Twice with John Garfield and Lana Turner. She particularly liked John Garfield because he looked so much like her father. She knew The Postman Always Rings Twice was an old picture, but the Roxy sometimes showed pictures that were made a long time ago, especially if they were really good ones. She'd loved it when they put on The Wizard of Oz. Rory Calhoun was on at the Roxy a lot. He was so brave and handsome and knew how to kill all the Indians in one go.

Pushing the strap of her new red plastic bag over her shoulder, she put her head down, so she could hurry past Burgoyne's back gate. She wasn't going to look anywhere near Jane Burgoyne, because she made Kathryn cranky with her nonsense.

But Kathryn couldn't ignore Jane's house. Crashing sounds came from inside and Kathryn began to run. Jane's father sometimes became violent when he was drunk and Kathryn wanted to get inside, where her mother and father would look after her.

'Mum?' she called, once she'd reached the safety of the back steps and opened the door.

'Right here.' Her mother stood at the sink, washing some dishes. 'Keep your voice down, Nana is having a lie down.'

'There's something bad happening at Burgoyne's.' Breathing deeply, as much from running as from nervousness, Kathryn grabbed her mother's arm, pulling her towards the back door.

Mum wiped her hands on her apron and moved to stand on the top step, Kathryn beside her. They could see easily over the side fence and into the yard next door. Although the sound was muffled from this distance, Kathryn could hear both Mr. and Mrs. Burgoyne's voices.

The Burgoyne's back door opened and Mrs Burgoyne, Jane's mother came rushing out, down the steps and into the yard. She was screaming and crying. Then came Mr. Burgoyne. He was yelling loudly and chasing Mrs Burgoyne, who was the fastest runner Kathryn had seen. He was saying strange words. It sounded like "I'll flucken kill you, you flucken bitch.'

Before Kathryn could understand what he said, her mother clamped her hands over Kathryn's ears, then seemed to change her mind and pulled her inside into the kitchen.

'I want you to get under the bed and stay there,' Mum said, pointing towards Kathryn's bedroom in the middle of the house.

Kathryn noticed her mother's hand was shaking; she'd never seen Mum upset like this before. Her mother hurried into the bathroom and came out right away.

'I don't want you to hear language like that.' 'Here.' After placing some cotton wool into Kathryn's ears, she pushed her towards her bedroom, before turning in the direction of the back door, calling Laddie to go with her.

No way was Kathryn going to miss out. The picture had been a dud and she wasn't going to skip any real action. Usually she did what her parents told her, but as soon as she walked into her bedroom instead of getting under the bed, she pulled back her curtains to watch what was happening. Luckily, her bedroom window was close to the dividing fence and overlooked the yard next door. The Burgoyne's house sat on the side of the block farther away from the Carpenters, and an open grass lawn covered the area between the house and the unpainted paling fence.

After she pulled the cotton wool from her ears, Kathryn positioned herself so she could see as much as possible of the Burgoyne's yard, although her mother wasn't visible.

Mr. Burgoyne continued to yell queer words at his wife. Kathryn wished she knew what he said. Both her parents said "bloody" and "bastard" a lot. Quite often they said "Jesus" and "Christ", even though her Sunday school teacher said that was one of the worst things to say; it was taking the Lord's name in vain. But she'd never heard the word Mr Burgoyne was saying.

It was probably because he'd been in the war. Her mother told her men in the war had seen and done things nobody else had. When she asked Dad about the war, he said he didn't know too much about what happened to the Aussie soldiers; he'd been working in the coal mine. It was a strange reply from her father, because he always seemed so happy to answer all her questions. Although when she asked Jane if Mr. Burgoyne ever talked about the war, her friend said nobody in her house ever mentioned it.

Standing on tiptoe, Kathryn tried to see more, then decided climbing onto her bed gave the best view. She couldn't see Jane or her older sister, Doreen. They were most likely under their beds inside. If she had a father like Jane's, Kathryn decided she would be under her bed.

'Roy!' Mum's voice sounded weird as she called out, as though she was scared, but trying to be brave.

Mr Burgoyne was still threatening to kill his wife. Mrs Burgoyne must have seen Mum standing near the fence, because she ran towards her. That was a big mistake. Mr Burgoyne caught Mrs Burgoyne and had his hands around her throat. In spite of his breathlessness, he continually yelled the peculiar word. It must be really important.

'Bull!' Mum called out. That was Mr Burgoyne's nickname.

Being as quiet as possible, Kathryn pushed her window up as far as she could and leaned her head sideways against the fly screen. Once she did that, she couldn't see Mum, but she could hear her easily.

'Roy, don't you think that's enough?' Mum's voice sounded just like Kathryn's teacher, when he was telling off one of the kids.

No wonder her mother wanted her under the bed; she was being incredibly brave. Kathryn held her breath, waiting to see if Mr Burgoyne would murder his wife and then attack Mum. But the strangest thing happened. Mr. Burgoyne let go of his wife's throat and she fell to the ground, gasping. Then he moved closer to the fence.

'Polly,' he said, and he sounded friendly, so friendly that Kathryn couldn't believe it. She thought someone who was trying to murder another person would be cranky all the time. But Mr. Burgoyne was almost smiling at Mum. 'You have no idea what I have to put up with.

'Hurting Cassie isn't going to do you any good.' Her mother's voice came through, strong and clear.

Kathryn wondered if Mum had said the right thing, because as soon as she mentioned Mrs. Burgoyne's name, Mr. Burgoyne got mad again.

'The bitch tried to poison me,' he said.

'It was your own bloody fault.' Glaring at her husband, Mrs Burgoyne got to her feet.

Kathryn wished Mrs. Burgoyne would be quiet. It wouldn't take much to kill her. She was really skinny and reminded Kathryn of the wicked witch from The Wizard of Oz. Except Mrs Burgoyne had fair hair.

'Do you know what the bitch did?' Mr Burgoyne stepped towards the fence. He sounded angry again and Kathryn's legs started to feel wonky. She grabbed hold of the rail at the back of her bed, so she wouldn't fall. Needing to know that Mum was safe, she pushed her nose hard against the fly screen to try to see her properly.

Kathryn had no idea what she would do if Mr. Burgoyne tried to kill her mother. Mum had Laddie with her and he would try to protect her, but he was only a dog. The police station wasn't far, at the end of the lane, facing the main road. Maybe she should leave now and make a run for it?

Then her mother spoke again. 'No, why don't you tell me?'

Now what was her mother doing? Mr. Burgoyne would get mad again.

'She fed me cat food.'

Wow. Mrs. Burgoyne must be really brave.

'You stupid bastard. You fed yourself.'

Mrs. Burgoyne was at it again. Why couldn't she stop arguing? With her chin stuck out, she stood facing her husband, almost as if she was waiting for Mr. Burgoyne to hit her.

'She left it on the table. What was I supposed to think?' Mr. Burgoyne seemed to ignore his wife. Holding his arms outstretched, he kept on talking to Mum.

'That it was cat food. You even heated it on the stove!'

'You've left tinned stew for me before.' Mr Burgoyne said quietly, turning to face his wife.

'Then why didn't you read the label? Because you were too drunk to see straight.' Her hands on her hips, Mrs. Burgoyne glared at her husband, In spite of everything that had happened, she sounded as though she still wanted to have an argument.

Mr. Burgoyne shook his head, but his voice was calm when he spoke. 'There wasn't any label.'

Kathryn kept watching Mr. and Mrs. Burgoyne. Continuing to squabble, they moved away from the fence and towards their house. The last thing she heard was Mr. Burgoyne saying, 'It tasted better than the other shit anyway.'

Knowing her mother would be coming inside soon, Kathryn got down from her perch, stuffed the cotton wool into her ears and slid back under the bed.

**********************************************************************

'Dad, do you like my new dress?' Kathryn skipped to the corner of the yard where her father, dressed in grey shorts and a navy singlet, was tying his tomato plants to stakes. The full skirt of her white organza dress flounced as she moved, and she knew it looked exceptionally pretty.

After straightening the last plant in the row, her father turned, took the cigarette from the corner of his mouth and grinned at her.

'Going to church, are you? Which one today?'

'Church of England. Jane asked me to go with her.'

'You'll have the best-looking outfit of all.' Dad bent to pick up some more twine. 'Make sure you learn something at that place.'

Frowning, Kathryn walked up the path towards the front gate. What exactly did Dad mean? What did he expect her to learn? She knew he didn't like churches and it didn't matter which one she went to. She'd tried the Methodist, Church of England and even the Baptist, although that one was a bit far to walk.

One day she overheard Dad say it was all a lot of tripe. Of course he was drunk at the time. Her mother argued, saying prayer was important, and that she'd read the Bible every week when she was young; it hadn't done her any harm, although she had no wish to go to church now. Neither of them encouraged or prevented Kathryn from going to whichever church she chose. And she knew some of her other school friends, especially the Catholic ones, weren't given any choice.

Jane waited out the front, near the gate. After what happened yesterday, Kathryn realised her friend wouldn't want her to go inside her home. Once Kathryn had gone inside Jane's home after Mr. and Mrs. Burgoyne had fought and she'd been amazed at what she saw. Mum always kept their place tidy, but the Burgoyne's had furniture turned over, broken plates on the floor and beetroot splattered up one wall. She asked Jane about it, and was surprised when she found out it was Mrs. Burgoyne who broke the plates and threw the food.

'You look nice,' Kathryn fibbed. She really didn't like the plain green pleated skirt and lemon blouse Jane was wearing.

'Your dress is prettier.'

Kathryn nodded. She couldn't argue with that. Her mother always got her pretty clothes in the latest fashion. One day she'd overheard Mum tell Aunty Lil she finally had a chance to dress a girl after having three boys. Jane only had one sister, Doreen. Sometimes Jane complained she had to wear Doreen's hand-me-downs. That was the only time Kathryn felt pleased she didn't have a sister. Jane was lucky to have one; someone to discuss the True Confessions magazine with; someone to lend her pink nail polish; and someone to talk with about boys.

Enjoying the spring sunshine, the two girls dawdled along the dirt footpath towards the small wooden church building that sat at the end of the block. It was a soft, dreamy day; exactly the kind of day Kathryn loved. The sun wasn't too hot. Dainty butterflies fluttered by and occasionally a bee droned sleepily near the flowers blooming in the front gardens they passed.

Lost in thought, Kathryn looked at the sky, trying to make shapes from the fluffy clouds. One looked like a kangaroo and another like a wagon she'd seen in the cowboy picture a couple of weeks ago. She was about to ask Jane if she could see anything, when Jane spoke.

'Are you looking for magpies?'

Jane's question destroyed Kathryn's good mood. She'd forgotten about the attacking birds. 'I thought Sergeant Corcoran came last week and shot the magpie that nearly pecked Kevin's eye out,' she said.

Taking her bag from her shoulder, Kathryn held it ready in case she needed to take a swing at a swooping magpie.

Jane shook her head. 'He was going to, but I heard Mum say you shouldn't shoot the magpies. They are only protecting their babies'.

'We'd better make a run for it.' Kathryn glanced towards the schoolyard across the street where towering gums provided shade for the kids, but also supplied homes for the nuisance magpies. At least now it was October, they wouldn't be swooping for much longer.

Giggling, the girls began to sprint past the last two houses, just as the large bell standing on the platform outside the church began to ring. Chimes rang out every Sunday, letting everyone know service started in fifteen minutes.

The problem with going to the Church of England, according to Kathryn, was there weren't many young people. A lot of elderly ladies made up the congregation. They usually wore funny-looking hats and most of them seemed as old as Nana Phillips. That didn't bother Kathryn too much, except when it came to singing the hymns.

Reverend Robert stood out the front and led the chorus, but his voice wasn't strong enough because the ancient wooden building had a high ceiling. Loud, squeaky voices from the old ladies dominated the minister's singing and embarrassed Kathryn. What was worse, when she started to sing the unfamiliar hymns, she could hear herself. Her shaky voice was terrible, chirping and cracking. Of course, to her shame, her face would burn and she knew everyone was looking at her, wondering why someone who sang so badly would open her mouth.

Jane stopped running. 'I think some of the old ladies are staring at us.'

Following Jane's pointing finger, Kathryn saw the disapproving glares coming in their direction. She wasn't sure if it was because they were running or laughing. Forcing herself to look very serious, she slowed down and strolled up the uneven concrete path towards the church door.

Dressed in black, flowing robes the fat, brown-haired minister greeted them. 'Good morning Jane. I see you've brought your friend along today. Kathy, isn't it?'

'Kathryn.' Kathryn said, and immediately felt her face warm.

Ignoring her, he smiled at Jane. 'Have you been studying your catechism?'

Jane nodded.

'Good girl,' he said, patting her on the head.

Kathryn frowned. Why didn't Reverend Robert say something to her? She'd been studying the same stuff Jane had; and she bet she knew it better; and she wanted to ask him a couple of questions, but he was already helping one of the old ladies with a walking stick to a seat.

'Let's find somewhere to sit,' she said crankily.

The seats were uncomfortable: hard, narrow benches set in rows of eight on both sides of a wide aisle. Each bench seated about five people. Jane and Kathryn sat in the third row from the front, taking up the whole row. Kathryn liked to sit quietly before the minister started. Then she could admire the coloured windows. "Stained glass" she thought it was called, though she couldn't imagine why anyone would want to call anything so lovely "stained". She'd ask her father about it when she got home.

There were fifteen people present today; Kathryn counted them before she sat down. Sometimes Reverend Robert said if the congregation didn't increase, they may have to close down the church and then everyone would have to go to the next town. Kathryn didn't think many people would be able to travel anywhere. Hardly anyone owned a car and the trains and buses didn't run often on a Sunday. She knew she wouldn't be able to go to another one if this church closed, and she doubted Jane would either.

Kathryn's attention centred on the plain black book she held in her hand. It was no use asking Jane why it had Catholic Church in the Church of England catechism book; Jane wouldn't know. Ever since she read the words "Catholic Church", Kathryn puzzled over it. The Catholic Church was the huge brick building at the edge of town. There was also a Catholic school, but the headmaster was called Father, and the women teachers wore weird black clothes and were called Nuns.

Somehow Kathryn knew it wouldn't be right for her to ask to go to that church, although she didn't really want to. Besides being too far to walk, calling another man father when he wasn't related seemed strange, and the black-garbed women looked a bit scary, almost as scary as The Shadow.

As soon as the organ began playing, the sombre music sent shivers up Kathryn's neck. For some reason, she always looked at the front wall and the painting of Jesus when the music started. It wasn't a nice picture. Jesus seemed to be too skinny, and he was nailed on some wood with his arms stretched wide and blood trickling down his forehead.

Once she asked Dad about the painting of Jesus in the church. She wanted to know why they didn't have a nice smiling picture of him, or at least one where he was dressed, like the photo of young Queen Elizabeth displayed on her classroom wall. Dad told her it was wrong anyway. Jesus didn't have white skin; his skin was brown and white people wanted him to look like them, so they painted him white.

Dad seemed to know most things, but Kathryn wasn't sure if he was right about this. Reverend Robert always talked about how important it was to tell the truth, so she knew he wouldn't put up a picture of Jesus that told a lie.

Then Reverend Robert took up his position at the front, behind the stand. 'Let us pray,' he said, lifting his hands towards the ceiling.

Kathryn squirmed. Was Reverend Robert trying to get closer to God, holding his fingers up like that? It looked pretty silly and she closed her eyes, pleased she couldn't see him. The hard floor hurt her knees, but she stayed with her head bowed listening to the prayer from the minister. There was a lot of kneeling in this church. The Methodists and Baptists didn't do that.

A grumbling sound came from Jane's direction. 'What was that?' Kathryn whispered.

'My belly: I didn't have any breakfast. I'm preparing for my first communion.

Nodding her head, Kathryn closed her eyes again, concentrating on the preacher's words. She wanted forgiveness for all the bad things she did, such as not obeying her mother yesterday. It seemed as though Jane had other ideas; the prayer mustn't have been as important to her. Her head rested heavily on Kathryn's shoulder.

'Patience is a virtue,' said Reverend Robert.

Kathryn didn't care about being patient; Jane was beginning to hurt her. Hoisting her shoulder with as much force as she could, Kathryn pushed her friend away. There was a loud thud. Opening her eyes, Kathryn saw Jane stretched out on the bare boards. Her face was white and her eyes closed. Jane must have fainted; that explained why she was leaning on Kathryn.

Kathryn had never seen anyone faint before: not in real life anyway. She'd read about girls who fainted because their clothes were too tight, and she'd seen a picture at the Roxy where the lady had fainted because she was going to have a baby. None of the people who fainted actually died, but she had to admit Jane seemed pretty sick, her face the colour of Mum's rice pudding.

'Get up, Jane,' Kathryn whispered to her friend, but Jane didn't listen.

Lying there with her eyes closed, Jane looked scary. Not sure what she should do, Kathryn kept staring at her friend, waiting for some movement, but nothing happened. Reaching down, she took Jane's cold hand in hers, hoping that Jane would open her eyes. As though she could read Kathryn's thoughts, Jane's eyelids fluttered open.

Then everyone started fussing. The old ladies gave Kathryn horrible looks. It seemed to Kathryn they blamed her for Jane falling over and bashing her head. Reverend Robert rushed down from the stand to help Jane back into her seat. At least she had her eyes fully open now, although she was white as a ghost.

Kathryn felt entirely useless. She definitely wasn't a Good Samaritan. She wasn't even good enough to be called a Disciple. That was when she made her decision. Jane could come back here by herself in future. Kathryn would keep away from this church, whether it was Catholic or not.

Chapter Four

October 1956

Polly wrapped the cheese and homemade green tomato pickles sandwiches in greaseproof paper, and placed them into Chip's crib tin alongside a couple of cream-filled biscuits: his favourites.

'Do you want to take a pack of cards?' She moved to the dining room doorway to speak to Chip, who sat having a smoke after breakfast.

'Might as well, though some of the others will have them. I'm expecting Taffy to bring his accordion for a bit of a singsong. Is there room to stick a paperback in there?'

'I'll get you the Carter Brown you bought last week.' After hurrying into the front bedroom, Polly returned, the book in her hand, 'Do you have any idea how long this will last?

'Do you think I need another book?

'Don't joke. I want to know.'

'As long as it takes.' Chip stood, took the crib tin, kissed her on the cheek and made for the door, where he turned. 'We have to make a stand.' He grinned. 'A sit-in, anyway. They can't make a profit without us working, so we have to last long enough for them to negotiate. I'd better get going; the pit whistle will be sounding soon. We'll go underground at the regular time, even if it's down tools.' He rested his hand on the screen door. 'Make sure you tell Kathryn what's happening, if I'm not home for tea. And I doubt I will be.

Polly followed Chip to the doorway and watched him go out the back gate, across the lane, and through the back of the butcher's shop yard. By the time he crossed the road and train line, then headed towards the pit top, she lost sight of him. She'd been seeing him off to work in this way, since they first moved into this house, twenty-two years ago. Kathryn hadn't been thought of then. They only had three boys - Bobby, five, Johnny four and Charlie a baby of one.

Chip built the house himself, while they were living with her parents, who'd been a wonderful support, taking them in when she and Chip and their growing family needed somewhere to live. Now it was her turn to return the favour and look after her mother, and like a true member of the Phillips family, she would do it to the best of her ability.

Just as the seven o'clock blast from the pit whistle resonated in the morning air, she finished clearing away their breakfast dishes. The piercing noise wouldn't disturb either her mother or Kathryn; they wouldn't be awake for at least another hour. She'd get the copper going in the washhouse and start on some of the towels and sheets. Thank goodness, Chip had chopped plenty of firewood and left a neat stack near the coal heap. Cutting off some kindling to start the fire was easy enough.

A cold nose pressed on her leg as she reached the bottom of the back steps. 'All right, Laddie,' she said. 'I know you want to help me.

With Laddie trotting along behind her, Polly walked past the washhouse to the coal heap opposite the dunny, where she picked up a small hatchet embedded in a chopping block and started hacking. After splitting the sticks, she moved far enough away so her darling Laddie could help; he seemed to sense whenever she needed his comforting presence. Holding some of the smaller pieces of wood in his mouth, Laddie wagged his tail and trotted towards the washhouse, where he would place the sticks in front of the copper, just as he did every Monday. Polly gathered some extra kindling to follow him, when Cassie Burgoyne called out over the side fence and stopped her.

'Has Roy gone?' Polly asked.

Cassie nodded, moving to lean on the wooden palings. 'How long do you think it will take for them to get what they want?

'I haven't got a clue. I do think that this mechanisation is going to get rid of a few jobs.

'How many?

'If I knew that I'd be running the pit.' Polly knew she sounded a little exasperated, but sometimes she wished Cassie would ask her husband a few questions, instead of relying on her.

'Why do they need to do it?' Cassie's voice choked, tears forming in her eyes.

With her hand outstretched, Polly moved closer to the fence. Patting Cassie's arm comfortingly, she said, 'It's called progress. Speaking of which, I'd better get the copper lit. Mum and Kathryn will be ready for breakfast before I'm ready.

'Why don't you let them get their own?

Polly frowned. 'I like to look after them. Kathryn will grow up soon enough and have her own kids to chase after. And I can't trust Mum. She forgets what she's doing a lot of the time.

'If you need any help with Mrs. Phillips, just let me know.

'I might just take you up on that.' Polly smiled at Cassie, grateful for the offer, but she knew her situation would have to be desperate before she'd let her mother be looked after by someone outside the family. Besides, Cassie was fiery and the stress of looking after Ada might be too much for her. Polly had almost lost her temper with her mother a few times lately; and she considered herself a lot more even natured than Cassie Burgoyne.

A kookaburra laughed, its throaty cry sounding out a warning of impending rain. Hurrying towards the washhouse, Polly glanced at the sky. Not a cloud in sight, but the weather could change within hours. She needed to keep focussed.

Stopping on the doorstep of the washhouse, she turned to gaze briefly around the neighbourhood. Murky coal smoke wafting up from the outside laundries created a pall over the rooftops she could see. Some people might consider it ugly, but somehow she found the view heartening. It meant she wasn't alone. Most of the women in Merthyr Vale had started up their copper fires, preparing for Monday washday. She smiled, pleased at the feeling of belonging to a close-knit town. At least there was something to be content about today.

Once she'd lit the fire, Polly began filling the copper with a metal dipper. Thank God Chip was letting her get a washing machine for Christmas. Already a couple of painful twinges spiked in her back. Before the day was over, the pain would be worse and she'd need a hot water bottle and a couple of aspirin prior to going to bed.

Old-fashioned washtubs with a wringer on top took up most of the back wall. Although she found it hard to imagine the shed without them, she wouldn't need either the tubs or wringer soon. With the new electric stove and washing machine, she wouldn't know herself. Christmas promised to be wonderful, although the bill for the appliances, plus the electrician and the extra electricity, would eat into her savings.

She was proud of the way she handled the money. Good quality food filled their table and her family was well dressed. If she remained sparing with things she didn't consider entirely necessary, that was sensible. The other day Maggie had a go because Polly wore a dress with a couple of small holes in it. Polly had bitten off a reply; it hadn't been worthwhile arguing with her opinionated sister, who hadn't managed to change Polly's mind. What did it matter what you wore in your own home? As long as you dressed well to go out.

Sorting through the washing, Polly made sure there were no stains she needed to rub with soap and scrub on the wooden washing board. Thankfully there were none at the moment, but she knew once she finished the sheets and towels it would be a different matter. Dirty marks that needed to be pounded and rubbed were usually on Chip's clothing. Grime from the coalmine was ever present, even in Chip's skin, no matter how often he scrubbed himself.

Soon the water in the copper simmered and Polly filled it with the sheets and pillowcases from her bed. Thoughts of Chip, possibly underground for days, tumbled through her mind as she scoured some of the remaining clothes. She was grateful she had a good husband. He might irritate her when he drank too much and made a spectacle of himself, but that didn't happen too often. Their income remained steady and Chip worked hard. He always wanted the best for his family. Already he was considering getting one of those new-fangled televisions next year, after they'd bought the other home improvements and saved enough.

Standing still for a few moments, Polly stared at the glowing fire, one hand fiddling with her handkerchief in her apron pocket. Would everything turn out all right? Was there a danger of them losing their jobs? Chip had incredible faith in the union, but Polly knew nothing about such things. All she knew was that the pits had been part of her life since she could remember. Her father, now her husband and three sons worked the mines, and that was the only life she wanted to live, the only life she felt comfortable with.

She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and noticed she'd ripped the lace from one side. Bending down, she threw the torn hanky into the fire and watched it burn and shrivel away. She shuddered. Someone had walked over her grave, as her mother would say. She'd be crying like Cassie, if she didn't pull herself together.

Squaring her shoulders, Polly went outside with the scoop to get more coal for the fire, noticing as she did so, that the coal heap was getting low. She'd need to use the free ticket to get another load soon. Just as well they planned to buy an electric stove and washing machine, because then she wouldn't need as much coal. Upset at her wayward thoughts, she shook her head. What was she doing, worrying about a coal delivery? What if the men didn't win and there was no more free coal for the fire? What if they lost their jobs and there was no money for anything? She sucked her bottom lip. Thinking like that wasn't on, and she wasted time.

Back in the steamy washhouse, she stirred the washing with the broomstick she kept for the purpose, before bracing herself to lift the heavy sheets with it, moving them into the washtub, where she rinsed them and put them through the hand wringer. After tipping the next load into the copper, she picked up the full cane basket and struggling under the weight, carried it out to the clothesline to peg it out. Thank goodness it had stayed sunny, with a nice breeze blowing. She'd been too slow this morning, worrying over what might be happening at the mine.

Laddie stood beside her again. This time he reached into her peg container, took out a peg and held it up in his mouth for her to use. The wooden pegs were inclined to get wet and sticky from Laddie's saliva, so she gave them a quick wipe on her apron before attaching them to the clothes.

Polly didn't want to chase Laddie away; not when he was such a wonderful companion. With his help the jobs she had to do were much easier, not because of the physical aid, but because he so obviously cared for her. It felt as though someone had trained him to pick up the pegs and carry the sticks. She sometimes wondered what he would be able to do if he were taught some skills.

Stretching her back, she stood for a moment easing her aching muscles, before winding the rope to keep the line secure and pushing the clothes prop back into place. Although she didn't have a watch on, she knew it was time to go inside to prepare breakfast for her mother and Kathryn.

The morning seemed to be flying by. Before Polly caught her breath, Kathryn had left for school and Ada was dressed and in her bedroom, rummaging through her drawers. After stripping the linen from Kathryn's and her mother's bed, Polly carried the load outside. The washing wouldn't wait. Already it was after nine and she could see a few grey clouds gathering in the west.

The second load of sheets was ready to come out. Polly stood with her legs apart, dipped the copper stick into the steaming water and began to lift them across into the tubs.

'I apologise for interrupting you, Mrs. Carpenter. I knocked on the front door and your mother said you were here.

Startled, Polly dropped the sheets back into the copper. Splashes of boiling water flew over the side and hit her on the lower leg. Wincing from the pain, she managed to stop the curse from leaving her mouth and turned to see Mr. Callaghan watching her, his tan felt fedora held in his hand.

This was the first time she'd seen Mr. Callaghan without his hat. He looked just as eminent and refined, dressed in his usual navy suit, white shirt and plain blue tie, his iron-grey hair neatly cut and combed.

'Are you all right? I hope you didn't burn yourself.

'No, I'm okay,' Polly lied. She should go inside and put some cold tea on it. Her leg was beginning to throb uncomfortably. 'Chip's at work,' she added.

'I know,' he said.

Of course he knew. Why did she say that? 'Would you like to come inside?

'No thank you.

She shouldn't have invited him inside; just as well he'd refused. Goodness knows what her mother would be doing now. She looked at Mr. Callaghan expectantly. He hadn't indicated why he had driven to her house.

'Are you taking a hot meal to Chip later?

Polly nodded. Why on earth was Mr. Callaghan wondering about that? Surely he didn't think she would let her husband starve?

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper before handing it to her. 'I'm hoping you could put this in whatever you send down.

Polly fingered the cold note, wondering how anything so important could feel so ordinary. Curiosity about its contents made her wish Mr. Callaghan would leave so she could take a look, but there was no need for her to be concerned, as Mr Callaghan continued, 'I'm letting Chip know to hang in there. The bosses are talking tough, but from preliminary negotiations it looks as though they will settle, with no jobs lost.

'Do you have any idea how long?' Polly knew she sounded desperate, but she was past caring how Chip's friend might observe her.

'The sit-in?' Mr. Callaghan's voice held a patient note, as though he was used to answering questions about these matters.

'No, I meant before they replace the men with machines.

'I think it's inevitable. When will it happen?' Mr. Callaghan shrugged.

'Thank you,' Polly said, putting the note into her apron pocket.

Mr. Callaghan replaced his hat. 'Good morning,' he said, and walked away.

Polly knew she had to hurry. She'd lied to Mr. Callaghan. Of course she would be preparing meals to send down the pit, but she couldn't leave her mother. Cassie would take something across to Roy. Polly would have to entrust her with the note, as well as Chip's food. Meanwhile, she needed to finish the washing and see to her mother.

******************************************************************

Her cheeks glowing, Kathryn burst through the door. 'The sky's getting black. I ran all the way down the hill as soon as the bell rang. What's for tea?

'Corn beef and cabbage, one of your father's favourites,' Polly answered, smiling fondly at her daughter.

'Where's Dad? He's always here when I get home from school.' Kathryn sat down at the table waiting for her meal. 'Hello Nana,' she said, when her grandmother entered the room.

'Have you got a boyfriend?' Ada asked, pulling out a chair.

'I'm sure she has, Mum,' Polly said quickly. She could see Kathryn beginning to go scarlet. Poor thing. Polly suffered from the same trouble with blushing when she was younger. She placed her hand on Kathryn's shoulder. 'Your dad's joined a strike. He could be home later tonight or tomorrow. Mrs Burgoyne took some food over to him for me.

'But Dad usually takes me to the library with him tomorrow night,' Kathryn protested.

'And he might still be able to do that. Eat your meal and stop. . .' Polly's words were drowned out.

The pit whistle sounded several blasts with gut-wrenching significance: then total silence.

Polly's pulse hammered, deafening her with its intensity. Gasping, she tried to suck in a breath from the airless room. She knew her mother and Kathryn were staring at her, but they seemed so far away. Clenching her hands, she willed herself to think: to clear her fuzzy mind.

The pit whistle hadn't wailed its horrifying warning for at least five years. Start of shift at seven in the morning, crib at eleven and down tools at three, were the usual times it was heard. Anything else meant trouble. The last time she'd heard its devastating message four men had been killed. Someone's dead,' Ada said.

Her words brought Polly back to reality. 'That's not true,' she said, trying to make her shaking voice sound as normal as possible as the adrenaline hit. 'Kathryn, I want you to be very grown up for me and stay here, eat your tea and then read a story to Nana. Do you think you could do that?

'Mum, what's happening? Has something happened to Dad? Why has your face gone so white? You're not going to faint like Jane did, are you?' Kathryn stood, looking as though she was going to burst into tears at any minute.

Shaking her head. Polly took off her apron. 'I'm not going to faint. There's nothing wrong with me, and probably nothing to worry about. I'm going to go over to the pit top and see what I can find out. I'm sure your father's all right. Now, do as I ask, eat your tea and look after Nana. There's an apple pie on the cupboard and custard on the side of the stove. Be careful near the fuel stove,' she added, before she hurried out the back door.

With no time to waste, Polly rushed down the steps and through the gate, just as Cassie Burgoyne sprinted out of her yard and ran towards her.

'Have you heard anything? Any news? I've only just got back from taking the food over. There was nothing wrong then.'

Polly could hear the panic in Cassie's voice. City born Cassie had lived in Merthyr Vale for at least twelve years, but the community was slow to accept strangers, especially those from the bigger towns. With her constant frenzied outbursts, Cassie didn't quite fit in. Emotional women weren't part of life in Merthyr Vale. Although, at this moment, Polly's hands trembled, letting her know she was as susceptible to her feelings as Cassie. Gritting her teeth, she promised herself she wasn't going to give in to her own doubts; she would keep strong.

Slow down. Stop worrying. You know no news is good news.' Polly licked her dry lips. Who was she trying to convince? Something happening to Chip was beyond her comprehension. She couldn't live without him; she didn't want to live without him. Dear God, he's been part of her life for almost as long as she could remember.

'You're always so calm. I don't know how you do it,' Cassie said.

Polly almost smiled. If Cassie only knew how her stomach churned. 'Take some deep breaths. That always helps. And a prayer or two won't hurt either,' she added.

Puffing hard and trying to keep up with a more nimble Cassie, Polly hurried across the back lane, taking Chip's usual shortcut of a track through the blackberry bushes at the back of the butcher shop. Together they crossed the road and the railway line near the station, heading towards the pit top, a few minutes later passing the yard where the big draught horses rested.

Drizzling rain wept from the darkening sky. Brushing a few drops away from her face, Polly realised she hadn't noticed the sprinkles dripping onto her head. She stopped for a moment to suck in a couple of breaths when she saw a small crowd, mostly women, who'd beaten them there. They were gathered close together as though seeking solace from their proximity to each other. Black umbrellas were held, shielding their bodies and forming a cluster of shiny cocoons against the stark backdrop of the pit machinery.

'Oh my God! The rescue men are here!' Cassie's knees buckled and Polly grabbed her arm, dragging her to her feet. Part of her wanted to strangle Cassie, and yet part of her felt grateful she had her over-emotional neighbour to look after. It gave her something to do, something to keep her distracted from sinking into her own blubbering depths.

Polly saw the rescue van, but not the men in their proto apparatus masks. That provided some consolation. Not much. They could be underground, looking for deadly gases, or worse, trying to save miners from being buried alive.

Her insides plummeted as mental pictures began to emerge and she was transported back to her childhood, when there was no Rescue Station, no trained men, only the miners and the canaries they carried in to detect the deadly gases.

Nausea rose in Polly's throat and she choked back the acrid taste. The images from her childhood were too real, the pit whistle, the gloomy dust cloud rising from the coal mine entrance and then the waiting, while the old draught horse and cart shambled through the small township, carrying the hurt, or sometimes dead, miner.

With more modern mining methods being employed by the owners, she couldn't remember any major accidents happening for a few years, not since 1950 or 1951. Perhaps fate had caught up and it was time for a calamity.

She swallowed hard. She couldn't allow emotion or pessimistic thoughts to cloud her actions. Being maudlin didn't help anyone, especially not Cassie, who verged on hysteria. Polly gave her neighbour a slight shake.

'Pull yourself together. There might be someone hurt and you screaming won't help one bit. What if one of the men is dead? The family will want comfort, not someone upsetting them more.

'And what if it's Roy or Chip?' Tears streamed from Cassie's eyes; she made no attempt to overcome her panic.

Polly squeezed the younger woman's hand. 'We won't think about that. Let's see if anyone knows anything.

Dragging Cassie along beside her, she approached some of the women gathered in a group watching the proceedings.

'Do you know anything?' she asked Minnie Hopes.

'Oh, you poor thing,' Minnie answered, placing a sympathetic hand on Polly's shoulder, while gently pulling her under her umbrella.

Polly's stomach lurched. So much for being in control of herself.

'What have you heard?' Somehow she managed to form the words, through her dry mouth. Clutching Cassie's hand in a death-like grip, Polly tried to look Minnie straight in the eye, but the other woman avoided her gaze.

'I'm sorry,' Minnie mumbled. 'I thought you knew. There's been a fall-in and one of the men was trapped. I heard someone mention Chip.

Chapter Five

October 1956

Only planning to take a few minutes, Kathryn disappeared into her bedroom to look through the latest Archie comic, With her chin supported on her hands she lay stomach down on her bed, the comic book spread in front of her and imagined she became part of their lives. She desperately wanted to see Betty win out over the nasty Veronica. Sometimes Kathryn pretended to be Betty, but she couldn't quite picture Archie or Reggie as her boyfriend. That didn't matter too much, because Kathryn knew that neither she nor Betty held a snowball's chance, as Mum would say. Veronica always seemed to get the boy.

Kathryn concentrated hard trying to make believe Archie was a real boy, when she remembered her promise to Mum. She needed to look after Nana and she hadn't heard Nana moving around.

'Nana? Where are you?' Kathryn yelled, her heart racing.

'Out here, in my bedroom.' Nana's shaky voice could barely be heard through the adjoining wall.

Nana was all right. Kathryn knew she should have been doing what Mum asked: not worrying about what silly Veronica was up to. She threw her comic book onto the floor and ran through the dining room and kitchen to the back bedroom to find her grandmother sitting on her bed with an untidy jumble of jewellery, badges and old birthday cards around her.

'What are you doing, Nana?' Kathryn asked, stopping in the doorway to adjust her eyes.

The bedroom was dim. Nana always kept her blinds down, not wanting strange men peeping in her windows. Thoughts of men loitering outside in the dark frightened Kathryn, especially as she didn't know what they planned to see. She couldn't imagine anyone wanting to watch Nana getting undressed. And she wondered if they would want to stare at an almost eleven-year-old girl, but she pulled her blind down most nights, anyway. She'd seen Lady Godiva and heard her father's song about the naked and bare lady, so perhaps Nana was right.

'Just looking,' Nana said, shaking her head.

Nana held onto something. It seemed to Kathryn Nana was trying to hide whatever it was.

'What have you got in your hand? Is it a brooch?' Kathryn stepped forward so she could see better, then immediately wished she hadn't. 'Nana, why are you holding your teeth?

Shudders pounded through Kathryn's body, making her heart beat loudly. Last week, when Nana blew out the candles on her birthday cake she dropped her teeth into a bowl of jellybeans. From the moment the family gathered around the table to sing Happy Birthday Kathryn had been looking forward to eating those lollies.

After Nana's accident Kathryn peered into the glass dish wanting to see if she could rescue just one jellybean; but when she saw the gooey mess the teeth left behind, she felt sick. Now all she could think about was those sticky teeth in Nana's hand. She wanted to leave and go back to her bedroom; even Veronica was better than this. But she knew she needed to stay.

Nana pulled back her lips. 'They're not mine,' she said. 'See.

Kathryn was almost too scared to ask. 'Whose teeth are they?

'They must be your grandfather's. I tried to put them in my mouth, but they don't fit.

'Oh, Nana, why don't you throw them in the bin?' Kathryn opened her arms in a pleading gesture, but she knew as soon as she spoke it was no use trying to get Nana to do anything.

'Your Pop might need another set when he comes back home.

Nana was becoming weird again. She wasn't exactly angry, but she had a funny expression on her face. Kathryn wanted to tell Nana she'd never met Pop; he'd died before she was born. Then she remembered hearing her mother say Nana didn't seem to know her husband had died and it was best not to argue with her.

'Would you like me to read to you?' Kathryn asked, trying to get her grandmother's mind on something else besides the yellow and brown teeth.

'No.

Nana owned a round metal alarm clock that sat on her bedside table. Its tick was loud, sometimes annoying, yet every now and then the rhythm became strangely calming. At the moment the constant tick, tick, tick seemed deafening. Kathryn looked at the time; it was ten past five. Her mother had been gone for just over an hour.

'Would you like to do something?' Kathryn asked, hoping for a positive reply.

'Yes. We can go for a walk and pick some freesias.

Not sure that was a good idea, Kathryn slowly nodded her head. The sweet smelling white freesias grew along the footpath in front of the school fence, right across the street. It wasn't too far to go with Nana, but it had been sprinkling outside.

'It's raining Nana. We'll get wet.' she protested.

'It's only a sun shower. We'll take umbrellas.' Nana stood, putting the teeth into the drawer. 'And get yourself a hat. We need to watch out for the magpies'

Nana had a strange way of talking. She said funny words like "chimley" and "umberella". When Kathryn asked her father why Nana talked like that, he smiled and said everyone is different, and people should be allowed to be as different as they wanted to be. That wasn't what her teacher told her. He said words should be pronounced properly. Sometimes Kathryn found it hard to know who to take notice of.

Kathryn hoped none of her friends would be around. It was bad enough being seen in the horrible sunhat her mother had bought for her, especially when the sun was going down, but to carry an umbrella? She would definitely look like the stupidest girl in school. Even when it was raining, none of her friends used an umbrella. A raincoat and a rain hat if you had to, but an umbrella?

'Go on. It'll be dark before you know it.' Nana pulled out a crazy straw hat from a box under her bed and jammed it on her head. 'I'll take my purple umbrella and you can have my one with yellow flowers on it.

Muttering under her breath, Kathryn sauntered back into her bedroom and took her "Coolie" hat out of the cupboard. It was the only one she owned. She pulled it on, covering as much of her face as she could. She had no idea what a "Coolie" was, but she wished they didn't wear silly pointed hats. Her mother bought matching ones for them for Christmas. To please Mum, Kathryn wore it to a pit picnic they held at the lake last summer holidays. Until now it lay hidden in the back of her wardrobe.

Knowing she looked absolutely ridiculous, Kathryn met Nana near the back door where she stood holding the umbrellas.

'I'd better get a key so we can lock the door,' Nana said.

'What for?' Kathryn didn't care if she sounded cheeky. No one ever locked their doors in the middle of the day. Well, it was practically the middle of the day, even if the sun was starting to go down. 'Come on Nana, let's go. We won't be long,' she said, looking at the sky. Nana was right. It had only been a shower; the sunrays formed a vivid rainbow.

'Wish, and you'll get a pot of gold,' Nana said, pointing to the multi-coloured arc.

Closing her eyes and crossing her fingers, Kathryn made a wish. It wasn't for a pot of gold; it was for Dad to come home safely. She opened her eyes and looked at Nana to see that her grandmother's eyes were scrunched tight.

Hoping that Nana was wishing about Dad, Kathryn looped her arm through her grandmother's and began to help the old woman to go carefully down the concrete steps. Laddie waited at the bottom, wagging his stumpy tail. At least he seemed happy about going for a walk.

'We can't go now,' Nana said, stopping suddenly on the second step from the top.

'What is it Nana?' Kathryn almost stamped her foot. Sometimes Nana made her cranky. She always changed her mind or wanted Kathryn to do things she didn't want to do.

'Bob's home,' Nana said, pointing past the lane at the back of the butcher shop.

'Who? Bobby doesn't live here anymore,' Kathryn said grumpily.

'It's your grandfather coming home from work to have a bath.

Kathryn looked to where Nana was pointing. Across the road and past the railway line, she could make out her mother, holding hands with a dirty, black-faced man. Nana's eyesight must be better than Kathryn thought, because the couple were walking near the draught horse yard and were so far away it took her a few seconds to realise who it was with her mother.

'It's Dad.' She was so pleased she gave her grandmother a hug. 'I wonder why he's so dirty,' she said, knowing the coal miners had a bathhouse where they showered after work every day.

Kathryn waved her hand towards her parents and they both waved back. With her belly quivering, she clenched her hands, not sure if it was nerves or excitement she felt. Something really important must have happened for her dad to come home looking like that.

She took off her hat. 'I think we can put our umbrellas away, Nana, and go down to the back fence to meet Mum and Dad.

Nana didn't argue, so Kathryn helped her frail grandmother back up the steps and into the house, before running into her bedroom to throw her hat onto her bed. 'Are you coming, Nana?' she called, hurrying to the bedroom door.

'Where are you going?' Nana sat on her bed, some of the things from her top-drawer spread around her. Probably Pop's teeth.

Kathryn couldn't believe Nana had forgotten she'd only this minute seen Mum and Dad. 'I'm going to meet Mum and Dad. I won't be long,' she said, hurrying to the door and down the steps.

She was puffing by the time she raced down the grass towards the gate, reaching there exactly at the same moment her parents did. The first thing she noticed were her mother's eyes, all red and shiny. Kathryn's belly turned upside down and she felt all squishy inside. Her mother never cried. Then her father smiled at her, and he looked so funny, his teeth white against his dark face, that Kathryn began to giggle.

'Why are you so dirty, Dad?' she asked.

'Let's go inside. Your father can have a bath and then we'll tell you all about it,' Mum said.

Mum and Dad took her hands in theirs and she walked between them up the yard and into the house. It reminded her of when the three of them used to go for walks; sometimes to the pictures together on a Saturday night; sometimes to visit Aunty Lil or Aunty Maggie; and sometimes for a Sunday walk picking wildflowers in the bush. Even though Dad seemed really dirty, holding hands felt so good she secretly wished that whatever had happened would happen more often, because she didn't get to do those things anymore.

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Kathryn knew if she had to wait another minute she would burst. Even though the clock face said it was twenty past seven, it seemed as though they'd been home for hours and hours. Dad had a bath and then went into the bedroom; Kathryn had no idea what was taking him so long. Nana was in bed and her mother busy preparing food in the kitchen. Every time Kathryn saw her mother's face she knew something really important had happened, because Mum couldn't stop smiling.

'Kathryn, sit at the table. Chip, your supper's ready,' Mum called.

After setting the china teapot on the table, Mum put a cup of cocoa in front of Kathryn. Next was one of Kathryn's favourite suppers: a huge plateful of toast covered with sardines and Pick-Me- Up hot sauce. Mum placed this down, right as her father came out of the bedroom, dressed in his pyjamas and dressing gown.

Kathryn waited. But after they'd both taken forever, pouring out and sugaring their black tea, she couldn't wait any longer.

'Please tell me!

Her mother smiled even wider. 'Your father's a hero,' she said.

Immediately Kathryn stared at her father, expecting him to tell Mum she shouldn't say that. Kathryn knew what a hero was; it was Rory Calhoun leading a posse out of town or even soldier Audie Murphy killing the enemy and saving everyone. But her dad sat there, saying nothing. He wasn't smiling, but he looked pleased.

'You know how your father goes to first-aid classes every Wednesday night?

Feeling a little disappointed, Kathryn nodded. Tying someone's arm up with a bandage wasn't very thrilling.

Her mother still looked happy. 'There was a fall-in at the pit,' she said.

'A fall-in?' Kathryn had a bit of an idea what Mum meant. but she wasn't sure.

'That's when part of the roof where the men are gives way. It can be extremely dangerous, because the men could get buried.

Her belly turning over, Kathryn looked at her father. 'Did you get buried, Dad? Was that why you looked so dirty?

'No,' Dad said, 'Plugga Perkins wandered up the tunnel to relieve himself. That's where it happened. A part of the roof fell away and the rest of us got covered in coal dust.

'Oh.' Kathryn still didn't know why her mother had called her father a hero.

'Plugga got his leg buried,' her mother said, smiling at Dad again. 'And your father and the other men dug him out.

So there were other heroes as well. Kathryn couldn't work out why her mother seemed so excited.

'That's when your father took over.

Tiny butterflies fluttered around inside Kathryn. Now knowing something special was going to be said, she sucked in a deep breath and waited.

'Plugga's leg was badly crushed and your father attended to him. The Rescue men said that if he hadn't done it so well Plugga would have lost his leg. So you can be very proud of your father.

Kathryn thought about it for a minute. She saw the picture where they needed to cut off a man's leg because a runaway horse trampled on it. The man Dad saved must be very thankful. She looked at Dad and felt all squishy again. But this time it wasn't because she was frightened, but because she was proud of her father. He was the best Dad in the whole world.

'How did you go with Nana?' Mum asked.

'She thought Dad was Pop.

Mum nodded. 'That's because they didn't have a bath house when your grandfather started work at the pit and the men came home filthy.

'Hullo! Can someone open the door for me?

Recognising the male voice, Kathryn ran to the front door, opening it to see her handsome, auburn-haired brother Johnny standing on the doorstep, two large bottles of beer balanced in each hand.

'Take the lemonade, Pudden,' he said, turning around, so Kathryn could see the bottle jammed upside down in his back pocket. 'I've brought a small celebration,' he called out to her parents. 'Had to have a beer with the man of the moment.

'Where's Betty and the twins?' Mum asked Johnny, when he went into the dining room and rested the beer bottles on the table.

'Betty was feeling out of sorts and Joanie and Johnnie were nearly ready for bed.

'I don't get to see those kids enough,' Mum said. 'Especially now your Nana needs looking after.

'I'll tell Betty to bring them over soon. But I'll put these bottles in the fridge for a few minutes, so we can toast Dad. Mum, why don't you play us a tune?

'Only a couple,' her mother said. 'It is a week night and we don't want to disturb anyone.

After they moved into the lounge room, Mum began playing some of the old fashioned songs they liked to sing. Kathryn joined in the chorus of Roll Out The Barrel and she even managed the whole song with Forever and Ever, although she kept her voice as quiet as she could, knowing she didn't sing too well.

Johnny seemed especially happy tonight. Sometimes Kathryn wondered why people got married. Betty, Johnny's wife, always whinged, and Mr. and Mrs. Burgoyne constantly fought. She wished people could stay happy forever and ever, exactly like the words of the song.

"Time for a drink' Johnny said, when they finished singing He's a Jolly Good Fellow. 'We're lucky to have Dad with us.

A frown wrinkling her forehead, Mum turned around on the piano stool. 'What do you mean? It's Plugga who's the lucky one.

'Oh- oh. I've put my foot in it, haven't I?' Johnny looked from Mum to Dad and back again.

Kathryn could see her mother's face wasn't happy when she stared at Dad.

'What haven't you told me?' Mum asked.

Looking at Johnny from under his eyebrows, Dad said, 'You've started the ball rolling. Might as well finish.

Nodding seriously, Johnny leant forward. 'It was after we dug Plugga out. There was another fall-in and it became dangerous. Everyone went back up the tunnel to wait for help.

All except Dad. He refused to leave Plugga. He said he had to help him or he would lose his leg. Turned out he was right.

'But you could have been killed.' Mum sounded cranky.

'I wasn't though, was I?' Dad said. 'Did someone mention a drink?

Kathryn hurried into the kitchen to get some glasses to place on the dining room table. Lemonade was special. She only had it when there was a party or she went to the pictures. The rest of the family soon joined her and she waited for her drink, keeping her eyes on the lemonade while Johnny poured her a glass.

'Shandy Mum?' Johnny asked, pouring out the frothy beer.

'I think I probably need one after that story,' Mum said. 'Just three-quarters fill the glass with lemonade and then top it up.

Mum didn't usually drink, so Kathryn knew she must be especially worried about Dad.

'Nana enjoys an occasional shandy,' her mother said. 'I'll go and see if she's awake.

Sipping her lemonade, Kathryn glanced at the wooden clock on the sideboard. She always went to bed at eight and now it was twenty to nine, but she wasn't going to remind anyone how late it was and miss out.

'Chip! Johnny! Come quick! Mum's gone.' Mum called out from the back of the house. Her voice sounded scared.

Kathryn ran with her brother and father towards Nana's bedroom. The bed had been made and Kathryn could see Pop's teeth sitting on the pillow. With her hands either side of her face, Mum stood staring at the empty bed.

'I'll see if she's in the dunny,' Johnny said, before sprinting out the door and down the steps. 'No, she's not here,' he called out from the back yard.

'I'll go with you to look for her,' Dad yelled to Johnny. 'Just give me a minute to put some trousers on.

Mum had never looked so sad, so Kathryn moved towards her and took hold of her hand. Mum didn't seem to notice her, and that made Kathryn feel unhappy, so unhappy that tears formed in her eyes and stung the back of her throat. She knew Mum didn't like anyone crying, especially when they didn't know what had happened. Mum always said you had to have a dead body before you were allowed to cry. Living people needed you to believe they would be okay and for you to pray for them.

So Kathryn closed her eyes and silently asked Jesus to look after Nana – and to help her father and brother find her. As though answering her prayer, Dad came back into the kitchen, nodded his head towards Mum, grabbed a torch and followed Johnny outside.

'She'll be all right,' he shouted, when he'd reached the back fence, and waving his torch up and down as a signal to them, he disappeared into the darkness.

Chapter Six

October 1956

Polly needed to be by herself for a few minutes in order to think clearly, but most of all, to stop herself from wallowing in self-pity. Feeling sorry for herself was one thing she could do without. She'd seen the damage done to other women in Merthyr Vale, who thought life was too hard, that they couldn't cope. They'd either ended up as drunks, or going from man to man, looking for perfection. Whatever had spurred them on, they'd ended up worse off than before.

'Kathryn, it's past your bedtime. I haven't got time to be worrying about you now. Go and clean your teeth,' she snapped.

'But, Mum, what about Nana? I need to know what's happened.' Kathryn looked at her mother, her hazel eyes full of reproach.

'Nana will be all right. Now do as you're told.

Muttering under her breath, Kathryn plodded towards the bathroom, then after a few minutes made her way into her bedroom, continuing to mumble her protests.

'Good night,' Kathryn called. 'I hope you wake me when you find Nana.

'Probably not,' Polly said under her breath.

Either it would be good news and it wouldn't be necessary to wake Kathryn, or it would be bad news. Polly frowned. She didn't want to think about that possibility. Her mother might be forgetful, but she possessed enough sense to know how to cross a road and not to try to go down the coalmine.

Jesus Christ! Where had that thought come from? Of course Mum wouldn't try to go underground. Polly hadn't been down the pit herself, although Chip once offered to organise a trip for her. Somehow, she hadn't wanted to know what it was like, and if she was totally honest, the thought of being that far beneath the earth terrified her. And it would terrify her mother. Ada wouldn't go near the pit opening and face the horrible potential fall.

Wrapping her arms around her body, Polly walked outside to stand on the small back landing, staring pointlessly into the dark night. There was no moon, and a few glittering stars in the black sky offered no comfort. She should have told Chip and Johnny to search around the pit entrance. Mum would be looking for Dad to come home from work.

For a brief moment, tears formed in Polly's eyes and she brushed them away angrily. She had no time for hysterical women. She'd embarrassed herself once today, crying with relief when Chip had emerged from the mine. Thankfully, no one had seemed to notice her emotional outburst, probably because Cassie had taken the limelight, almost screaming when she'd spotted Roy, who hadn't been involved at all in the danger.

With her fingers outstretched, Polly dug her nails hard into her ribs. The pain wasn't enough; she deserved more. Ada taking off like this was all Polly's fault. Why hadn't she checked on her mother? Why had she played music so loudly? No one could sleep through that. She'd been too caught up in her own interests, enjoying playing the piano for her family and particularly enjoying the celebration. Knowing that Chip had been recognised by his work mates was out of the ordinary, but she'd been selfish, thinking how important it made Chip, instead of considering her poor mother, who'd done so much for both Chip and their family over the years.

Polly knew she had to face the facts. Blaming her mother's forgetfulness on her age wasn't the answer. Her mother was losing her mind, as Agnes Warhurst had lost hers. Polly sighed; she shouldn't think like that. Agnes Warhurst hadn't had anyone to look after her. There was no way Ada would be allowed to parade naked in the streets, leaving herself open to ridicule from some of the unfeeling members of the community. No, Polly would take better care of her mother from now on. Please God, let Mum be safe.

Straining her eyes, Polly tried to make out a flashing torch, some sign as to where Chip and Johnny were searching. Nothing. This wasn't helping. She needed to do something, anything to lend a hand and make her feel as though she was doing her part. Maybe, if she ventured into the back lane, she would find some indication as to where her mother had wandered. Of course, she wouldn't leave Kathryn alone.

First things first. She moved to the middle bedroom to check on Kathryn, stopping in the doorway to gaze at her daughter. It wasn't Kathryn's fault Ada had taken off and Polly shouldn't have been so cranky with her. Sighing in her sleep. Kathryn rolled over. Even though a dull thudding was pounding in her temples, the sight of her daughter's bum, covered in purple flowers and sticking up in the air, managed to coax a smile from Polly.

Being as quiet as she could, Polly crept into the bedroom and gently eased a sheet over Kathryn's rear, before opening the top drawer of the bedside cabinet to retrieve her daughter's small blue torch. It wasn't very powerful, but it was better than nothing. She would only go as far as the back gate, but at least she would feel as though she were contributing. Standing around feeling guilty was only making her sick.

With the dim light from the torch flashing in front of her, Polly hurried into the yard and began calling before she reached the back fence. 'Mum!' Her voice sounded peculiar. Not hers. She cleared her throat and started again. 'Mum! Where are you? Ada!

The gate stood open, Chip and Johnny neglecting to close it in their haste. Polly moved into the lane, but it was pitch black and her torchlight barely made inroads into the shadows. This was hopeless. She slumped to the hard ground before drawing her legs up close to her body and wrapping cold hands around them. There'd been one thing after another today and it was too much to cope with.

Dropping her head onto her knees, she tried to think. Where would Mum go?

'Mrs. Carpenter, are you okay?

Startled by the voice coming out of the darkness, Polly jerked her head upright. Jesus, now half the street would be thinking she was suffering a nervous breakdown. Pushing herself up from the cold ground, she came face-to-face with Doreen Burgoyne, Cassie's daughter: a typical teenager with a pimply face and fair hair pulled back in a ponytail. Gossip was rife amongst the teenage girls and Polly knew the story of Mrs. Carpenter sitting in the dark in the mucky back lane would be giggled about at high school tomorrow.

'I'm all right, Doreen,' she answered, brushing the grass and dirt from her floral nylon dress. 'What are you doing here?

'Mum sent me to tell you Mrs. Phillips came to our house just now. She was looking for someone called Bob,' Doreen said, nervously swishing the full skirt of her pink broderie anglaise dress.

'Oh!' The exclamation spurted from Polly's mouth. With relief surging through her, she wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. Then her bubbling emotions completely took over and she began to shiver. Noticing the confused look on Doreen's face, Polly knew she wasn't making things any better for her own reputation; she had to get herself together.

'Chip,' she managed to say.

'I beg your pardon?' Doreen shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, allowing Polly to see the lacy hem of her fashionably starched petticoat.

'It's all right, love. I'm wondering how I can let Chip and Johnny know that Mum's been found. Could you tell your Mum I'll be over in a few minutes?

Doreen nodded and headed next door. Running faster than she had for years, Polly rushed up the yard to climb the back steps. Once she reached the top, she immediately waved her torch up and down towards the road. Peering into the darkness, she was rewarded sooner than she expected, when an answering flash came from the direction of the pit-top. With her fingers crossed in a childish manner, she gave up a silent prayer that Chip and Johnny would understand her message, then ran to check on Kathryn before going over to Burgoyne's to collect her mother.

*********************************************************************

'Johnny, would you like another glass before you leave?' Chip held the half empty beer bottle in his hand ready to pour it out.

'Just one Dad. I need to re-fuel after all that walking. Nana asleep?' he asked Polly.

'Finally,' Polly said wearily. Every part of her aching body was making itself felt. A black cat must have crossed her path today. Or maybe she walked under a ladder without noticing. Whatever caused these calamities she needed them to be finished.

'I'll go to the co-op tomorrow after work and buy dead locks for the doors.' Chip gave her a reassuring smile.

'It's not enough, you know. But I suppose it's better than nothing. At least we should be able to sleep during the night, without worrying about Mum taking off.' Polly sank into the wooden rocking chair in the corner. 'I'll

Before she got a chance to say anymore, a loud banging on the front door interrupted her. 'What now? I don't believe it.

'I'll go,' said Chip, getting up from the table and heading up the hallway.

Sitting silently, Polly and Johnny listened to the agitated voice coming from the direction of the front doorstep. What was being said wasn't obvious, although Polly determined it was a woman and it wasn't good news. As much as she wanted to have a look, overtiredness kept her glued to the seat.

Suddenly Johnny got to his feet. 'I think that's May Chandler,' he said and ran towards the commotion.

Although Polly considered Johnny's overweight neighbour a bit of a sticky-beak, May did seem genuinely fond of Johnny and his family. Quite often, when Polly visited Betty and the kids May unexpectedly dropped in with small gifts of clothing for the twins, and sometimes homemade biscuits or cakes. Whatever had taken place, Polly could tell that May's trip over here wasn't a pleasant occasion. Wondering what on earth was happening, and with every muscle in her body protesting, Polly slowly followed her son down the hallway.

'Mum, can you come home with me?' Johnny turned to ask, immediately she reached his side. 'It's Betty. She's bleeding pretty bad.

Raising her eyebrows, Polly glanced at Chip, whose silent nod confirmed her unasked question. She turned to her son. 'You go ahead. I'll keep May company. You can move much quicker than us.

Johnny didn't need any further instruction. He took off, running towards his home, which was situated on a quiet street, about three hundred yards away.

'Are you all right to go back?' Polly asked May who was red-faced and puffing from her exertion. 'Would you like a drink and a bit of a rest first?

May shook her head. 'The little ones are asleep, but I think we need to get there as soon as possible.

'I'll be back when I can.' Polly turned to Chip. 'Get some sleep. I shouldn't be too long. Mum shouldn't wake again.

'Stop worrying and get going,' Chip ordered. 'I'll get you a torch.

He moved back inside the house and returned quickly holding a torch and a white cardigan. 'It might get cool later,' he said, pushing the cardigan into Polly's arms. 'Do what you have to over there. We'll be okay.

Her energy levels at rock bottom, Polly tried to smile, but only managed to produce a slight grimace. She couldn't think of when she'd been this tired. Washing days always exhausted her, but today progressed from one catastrophe to another. She had to go to help out. Whenever someone in the family needed help, even Betty, Polly would be there. It was her duty as the mother of the family, especially now Ada wasn't playing her part.

May and Polly moved from the stony footpath outside the front fence, up a small incline and onto the dirt road. It was easier to walk there with little traffic and no dog poop to look out for. A meagre yellow glow from the streetlight on the corner created an ethereal mood broken only by the occasional barking from one of the neighbourhood dogs.

Sweet banana scent from Mrs. Winterbottom's magnolia shrub made Polly sneeze, especially when the cloying fragrance from white jasmine growing along the fence between Burgoyne's and Winterbottom's accentuated the heavy perfume in the air around her. Not that Polly minded. She appreciated spring flowers, the colour and spectacle created a restful, attractive display to brighten up the otherwise drab street with the rusty-roofed miners' cottages, many in need of a coat of paint. Thank God Chip took pride in their home; it was the best in the block.

'Be careful. There's a few cracks in the road. Some of them are a bit deep.' Polly took May's arm to help the older woman along.

Shadows from the gums and bushes in the schoolyard formed small furrows on the road. The two women made their way carefully by torch light, differentiating between real and imagined ruts. Under different circumstances it could have been a pleasant outing in the mild spring weather, down to the corner near the shop, then turning left to pass two cross street to go to Johnny's small timber home.

Polly decided she would go out for an evening walk with Chip and Kathryn once the daylight hours became longer, just as they used to. Her mother always went to bed with the chooks. And if they only escaped for half an hour, surely she could leave her mother unattended once the deadlocks were installed.

'Thanks for rushing over here, May.' Polly squeezed the other woman's plump arm. Perhaps she'd been a bit harsh judging May as she had. Becoming a substitute grandmother wasn't a small undertaking and May seemed to have accepted the role well. Obviously she related to Betty; something that Polly could never see herself doing.

'I didn't know what else to do,' May said. 'Betty point blank refused me going to the phone box and getting an ambulance. She wanted Johnny to be home first.

'She's that bad?' Polly had assumed Betty was going through a heavy time of the month. She'd been having a few herself lately. And knowing how demanding Betty was, Polly thought her daughter-in-law was looking for attention, because Johnny had left her for an hour or so.

May nodded. 'She's haemorrhaging. Silly girl, going to Ronnie.

'Haemorrhaging? Ronnie? Ronnie Siddell?' Polly knew she was in the middle of a bad dream. She wondered for a minute if Johnny knew Betty was pregnant and what she'd planned, but Polly pushed that thought away. Johnny wouldn't have allowed Betty to go to Ronnie Siddell, and he wouldn't have left Betty alone if he knew anything was wrong. 'I think she's more than bloody silly. She could have died, letting Ronnie Siddell loose with a crochet hook. We both know it was her who caused that young girl to bleed to death a few years back.' Polly bit her lip. She'd already said too much in front of May, letting her know how she felt about Ronnie Siddell.

May shook her head. 'That wasn't proven. If there'd been anything criminal Sergeant Corcoran would have got involved. Though I wouldn't have enough courage to go to Ronnie. But then, I've never been desperate. Betty isn't happy living here, being so far away from her parents and sisters. And having another young one, when she has two who are still babies, must have pushed her over the edge.

'You sound as though you understand what she's done.' Polly spoke carefully, keeping her voice impersonal. She didn't want to commit herself to May and have her opinion spread all over the neighbourhood, especially as she knew how much Chip hated the thought of getting rid of a baby. Although she realised that Johnny's neighbour was a kind soul, who genuinely cared for Betty and her twins.

Deep down, Polly sympathised a little with Betty. Polly didn't like her daughter-in-law much; she didn't think she made her son happy. All the same, looking after a husband and children, cooking, cleaning and ironing for them was demanding work. And when Betty delivered the twins over two years ago, Polly hadn't been able to offer much support. With Kathryn quite young and needing attention, and Ada starting to act strangely, Polly's attention had been diverted elsewhere. But she wasn't going to allow herself to feel guilty. Her husband and daughter came first, then her mother. She couldn't cut herself up into a million bits.

'As you know, my husband is a schoolteacher and I haven't had to put up with the uncertainty of knowing whether he would come home every night in one piece, or whether there would be any pay at the end of a fortnight. And having extra children under those circumstances.

Polly let May's words go unanswered, drifting off into the cool evening air.

'I wonder if there's some way I could get in touch with Betty's parents. I suppose by the time I wrote to them to come here and take the twins Betty would be back home from hospital,' Polly said. She was almost talking to herself, airing her thoughts aloud.

'I'm sorry, Polly. You know I'll do anything I can to help, but I'm a bit old to look after the kids. They're a bit of a handful.' May patted Polly's arm.

Polly looked at May, noting the grey hair pulled back from her plain face with large bobby pins and the wrinkled neck. 'I know,' she said, answering both of May's statements.

Polly had somehow known she would have to look after the twins. If things were as bad as May implied, then Kathryn would have to take time off school. That was the only answer; between them they could look after Ada and the toddlers. Kathryn was good with the little ones, and it wouldn't matter if she took a week off school. Studying the things Kathryn learnt at school wouldn't help her to scrub floors, cook and wash and iron clothes. Being a good wife and mother wasn't taught; it came naturally.

Lost in her thoughts, Polly gave a start when May grabbed her arm.

'Siren,' May said.

Polly stopped to listen. The eerie noise became louder. The ambulance wasn't far away.

'Johnny must have called it,' she said, trying to push her aching body to go faster. 'We'd better hurry so he can leave the children with me and go to the hospital with Betty.

Chapter Seven

November 1956

Kathryn crossed the street in front of her house and tried desperately not to breathe in the horrible stench from the girls' lavatory about fifty yards inside the school grounds. As soon as she felt the blast of hot wind, she knew it was blowing the wrong way, straight towards her. Wrinkling her nose and screwing up her face didn't help one bit.

After dawdling across the weed-filled footpath, she pushed open the rickety school gate that led into the uncultivated section of the schoolyard. Here the ground was mostly bumpy with a few patches of straggly weeds trying hard to search out the sunlight. Tall gums of different varieties provided homes for birds: rosellas, cockatoos, butcherbirds, tomtits and many others. Magpies, with their sweet song, were most prevalent.

Amidst the trees, hardy native bottlebrushes and wattle bushes survived to provide yellow and red flowers in season. Kathryn usually liked to admire the pretty purple and yellow wildflowers peeping out from behind logs strewn around the area. Today she didn't notice anything.

Fighting against the dreadful odour wasn't the only reason she felt miserable. It was Friday: the worst day at school. The lessons were okay, but Friday afternoon meant sport. She hated sport. She hardly ever won at anything, and some of the kids at school would be terrible and mean, pulling faces at her and poking fun when she didn't win the ball.

And the other reason she happened to be cranky was that Mum made her wear a short-sleeved woollen jumper today. Aunty Lil had knitted it and Kathryn hated it. The jumper was striped, every colour of the rainbow and more, some not even pretty colours. Mum told Kathryn to put on a navy skirt to match. As though anything would match the awful prickly jumper. She tried to tell her mother it was too hot to wear it, but Mum insisted. She said it was made of really thin wool. If it was so thin, then why did Kathryn itch so much?

Kicking irritably at a couple of twigs on the ground, she watched the grey dust swirl in the air. Why didn't it rain today? Then they definitely wouldn't have sport. Besides, everything looked dry and needed water. No one ever looked after the school grounds; a cleaner washed and tidied the main buildings. Kathryn doubted the lunch sheds or lavs were ever swept, and she knew the school grounds weren't hosed.

'Kathryn!

Turning around, Kathryn watched Jane run across the street towards her. Her best friend did better than she did at running and swimming and basketball. It wasn't fair. And to make it worse, Jane wore a pretty blue dress with lace around the short sleeves.

'What are you so happy about?

'I'm not happy. It's our first big test today,' Jane said, looking at her as though she was a bit scared of what Kathryn might say next.

'Is it? Gee, I hope it takes all day and we miss out on sport.

'You like the tests, just because you always come first in everything. Well, I like the games.' Jane stood with her legs apart and glared at Kathryn.

Taken aback by Jane's unexpected answer, Kathryn didn't reply for a minute. She was the one who had the right to be upset today, not Jane, who looked absolutely perfect with her blonde hair and blue eyes.

'Let's run up the hill. It's too smelly here,' Kathryn said, deciding she didn't want to argue. Besides, she couldn't think of anything to say. Jane was right; Kathryn always came first in the tests.

Holding their noses, the two friends ran past the girls' lav and up the asphalt covered hill towards the school building. Kathryn had never been inside the corrugated iron lavatory and she didn't want to. She always waited until almost bell time before she came to school, and she would go home for lunch every day, running straight to her own backyard dunny.

'There's Stinky Wilmington,' Jane said, pointing ahead to where a tall, skinny boy stood, his back against the wall of the infants' school lunch shed. 'We won't want to go near him. He smells worse than the lav.

Glancing towards Billy Wilmington, Kathryn noticed Billy looked the same as usual. He always leant against a wall with his head down or sat hunched over in a corner of the playground. She didn't like to look at him for too long. Sometimes the other kids would tease him and her soft heart would melt. She never spoke to the filthy boy and she knew that would disappoint her father. Even though he wouldn't say anything to her, she knew deep down inside Dad always wanted her to be kind to everyone. But she couldn't talk to Billy. Just the thought of speaking to him made her feel funny inside.

Jane giggled. 'Stinky doesn't have any trousers on. He must have poohed his pants again.

Kathryn sneaked another look at the grubby boy, who trudged towards the assembly area. He had on the same brown tweed overcoat he wore all year through. Whether it was summer or winter made no difference to Billy. It had a flap at the back that came open sometimes when he walked. And that was when Kathryn spied his bare bum. His grey flannel shorts came down to his knees when he wore them, but today he had none on. He was also bare-footed. Kathryn felt sad, because Billy never wore shoes, even on the coldest day in the middle of winter.

A clanging school bell let them know it was time to line up for assembly before they marched into class. Billy stood back from the rest, and Kathryn couldn't help wondering if the teachers ordered him to do that. Other kids would tease him all the time, calling him Stinky or worse: Shitty-Pants. Those who called Billy names would end up in a line outside Mr. Bunn's office, sometimes to get the cane. Girls didn't get the cane, only boys, who would show their red hands around as though the welts were a special prize they'd won.

The headmaster, Mr. Bunn, stood out the front, talking about a boy who'd done something wrong. Apparently, he'd blown some letterboxes apart with bungers after Cracker night. Sergeant Corcoran was going to come to the school later today to talk to him. Kathryn didn't know who the boy was, but she suspected it might be Kevin Sanders. Kevin was always in strife for something. She looked over to where he stood. There he was, grinning to himself as though he knew a secret.

Mr Downey took over from Mr. Bunn, tapped a stick on the ground to get their attention, and conducted them while they sang God Save the Queen. Then they saluted the flag flying on the pole near the steps, just as they did every morning assembly. The marching music, Colonel Bogey blared out from the huge speakers, and they filed into school, with some of the boys singing rude words to the music under their breath.

Kathryn sat in the second desk from the front. Made of heavy wood with a hinged seat, the desk held two children. Georgie Thompson sat next to Kathryn, though she would have preferred to sit next to Jane. They used to sit together, but Mr. Downey told them he didn't like their whispering and giggling, so he separated them.

As they moved into their places, Georgie Thompson was missing. His job was the ink monitor and every morning he would go outside onto the veranda and mix up the ink from powder. Kathryn saw Georgie come into the classroom holding a large beaker. While he moved around the room carefully filling each ink well, Kathryn got out her book ready for the first lesson.

Thick white blotting paper covered each desk and pens lay on top ready to be used. Mr Downey said that when they got back from Christmas holidays they would be using fountain pens, instead of the nibbed ones they used now. Parents would need to supply pens for their children. Kathryn wondered how someone like Billy would manage. If his parents only bought him one pair of shorts and no shoes, would they buy him a fountain pen? Being a sticky-beak wasn't helping, because she didn't know the answer and she definitely wouldn't ask Billy, so she concentrated on what Mr. Downey said.

'Today we'll be doing the arithmetic test,' Mr. Downey announced.

Groans came from around the room, but Kathryn's stomach turned over with a couple of flip-flops and she clenched her hands, shivering with a combination of excitement and nerves. Deep down, she was scared she wouldn't do well in the exams, but she usually did, and it gave her a special thrill to know she was the best. Writing compositions continued to be her favourite subject, while she always did well at arithmetic.

Sometimes Kathryn wondered if it happened because her Dad "audited the books", whatever that meant, for the local lodge. She didn't know what a lodge was either, though she regularly went on messages for her mother to the other side of town to " pay the stump" for Dad.

Now and then Dad would bring home huge columns of figures to add, and always asked Kathryn to check his addition. Not once did she get a different answer from her father, however it always made her feel special when he asked her to do it.

'Kathryn and Joe, would you pass out the papers?' Mr Downey stood out the front with a big pile of papers in his hand. Usually he wrote the questions on the board or walked around the room quizzing them. Today he'd told them they were going to practice for high school, even though they had another year to go before they went there.

Joey James was as good as Kathryn at arithmetic. Well, almost. That was probably why Mr. Downey chose them to hand out the papers.

'You may begin,' said Mr. Downey. 'You have one hour.

The room was so quiet Kathryn could hear the birds twittering in the trees outside. Finishing the easy questions quickly, she glanced around the room, surprised to see most of the others still concentrating, their heads down, looking at their work. Her eyes met Georgie's. He was trying to see what she'd written for her answers. Feeling sorry for him because he wasn't very good at most of their lessons, Kathryn let him have a look at her work for a couple of minutes, before covering it with her hands.

While she waited for everyone to finish, Kathryn looked around again; not too far, because then Mr. Downey might think she was trying to cheat. Something glistened in Janet Simpson's hair. Janet sat in the front row, immediately in front of Kathryn. Janet didn't stink as much as Billy did, but her clothes were always dirty, usually with buttons missing, and her hair looked like a bird's nest.

Kathryn knew what shone in the other girl's hair. Nits! She would have to tell her mother, and then Mum would look through her hair, before combing it with a fine comb that could really hurt. Little lice already ran around on Kathryn's head. She knew they had jumped from Janet's hair while they were doing the test. If Kathryn had known Janet had nits she wouldn't have bent forward so far over her paper.

Scratching hard, Kathryn tried to stop the itchy feeling. Before searching through her hair, Mum would probably tell her she was imagining it, but Kathryn wished Janet wouldn't keep coming to school with dirty hair.

'Pens down,' Mr. Downey said. 'Joe and Kathryn will collect the papers.

'Oh sir!' Georgie complained, his objection followed by a couple of others.

Kathryn smiled. She would never be game enough to be so cheeky. Mr. Downey took no notice of the protests, motioning for her and Joey to move around the room.

'There will be no sport this afternoon,' Mr Downey announced. 'We will have a special sports afternoon next Tuesday.

Another groan came from most of the class, especially the boys. Kathryn almost skipped down the aisles between the desks to pick up the test answers. Tuesday was far enough away for her not to have to think about it. After the class settled down, Mr. Downey asked those who had coal miner fathers to put up their hands. Nearly everyone did.

'Do you know what a ghost town is?' he asked, looking around the room.

Hands shot in the air. Kathryn knew it was because most of them had been to the pictures at the Roxy last Saturday afternoon. The cowboy picture had been about a ghost town in the Wild West.

Mr. Downey didn't seem to like the answers he received about what a ghost town was. 'Have any of you heard of a place called Minmi?' he asked.

Shaking her head, Kathryn glanced around to see that none of the other kids looked as though they knew where Minmi was.

'It's a small settlement about half an hour's drive from Newcastle, ' Mr. Downey said, folding his arms and moving to sit on the edge of his desk. 'It used to be a thriving town with lots of coal miners working there. Now there's hardly anybody living in the town. Even the pubs have closed down.' He smiled as though he'd made a joke although Kathryn wasn't sure why he thought he was funny, and she didn't think the other kids knew either, because no one laughed.

'Merthyr Vale will be a ghost town in a few years, so you boys had better start thinking about what you're going to do when you leave school, because coal mining won't be an option.' Mr. Downey's face remained serious while he spoke, and he seemed as though he wanted everyone to ask questions.

Some of the boys put their hands up, not sure exactly what Mr. Downey meant, but Kathryn didn't listen to what they said. Her mind whirled with thoughts of the future. Would her father lose his job? Would she have to move? Would she have to go to another school?

Not able to get her thoughts together properly, Kathryn sat frozen in her seat for a few minutes. A heavy feeling dragged down inside her belly. Friday definitely was her most unfavourite day. And today was the worst Friday she'd ever had. Why did Mr. Downey say those horrible things? She didn't want to make her home anywhere else. Living next door to her friend Jane was the best thing she could imagine.

The bell rang for playlunch and Kathryn got to her feet, still thinking about what would happen when Merthyr Vale became a ghost town. Then she realised she'd have to hurry to hide in the bubbler shed behind the girls' lunch shed.

Inside the bubbler area four tubs sat against one wall for the kids to wash their hands. On the opposite wall were three drinking bubblers. The shed wasn't very big, but every playlunch time when the teachers handed out the nasty warm milk, Kathryn hid there. She couldn't understand why she was so lucky not to be found.

Teachers chased the children, herding them into lines to drink the free milk, but no one bothered with her as she took cover. Some kids would line up twice. They could have it. She didn't like milk even when it came cold out of the refrigerator. Warm milk made her want to vomit.

Jane knew where Kathryn would be, and joined her in her hiding place, her mouth outlined with cream. 'You can come out now. The milk's finished,' Jane said.

The two friends skipped into the playground area. A few of the girls from their class were already playing hopscotch, but Kathryn didn't like that game. 'Let's go play Fly,' she said, before starting to gather some sticks.

Kathryn wasn't good at running, while she nearly always won at Fly. Placing the six sticks evenly apart on the ground, she stood with the seventh stick in her hand, ready to be Fly.

'Can I play?' asked Jenny, turning away from her hopscotch.

Soon another three girls joined them, to jump between the sticks to see who could make it to the end without touching them, or taking more than one step in each space. Of course Fly had the option to move one stick after each turn. Kathryn did so, wondering how she could jump further than some of the other girls when her legs weren't so long.

She won the game. With no sport this afternoon, maybe today wasn't so bad after all.

*********************************************************************

Kathryn floated down the school steps. She was a little late. Mr. Downey had asked her to clean off the blackboard and put up the seats ready for the cleaners to sweep through. Boys usually did those jobs, however she didn't mind. She hadn't wanted to leave the classroom today. There'd been a special treat. Mr. Downey read them a story about Helen of Troy. It was so lovely. Romantic - Mr. Downey said.

Sometimes Kathryn read romantic magazines like True Confessions. But she didn't like them as much as she loved Little Women and Good Wives; although she was always disappointed that Jo didn't end up with Laurie, her next-door neighbour. And how silly was Amy changing Laurie's name to Teddy?

Deciding she might have a new favourite with Helen of Troy and Paris, Kathryn planned to ask Dad if he'd help her find the story in the library next Tuesday night.

The playground was deserted. It felt weird walking down the side of the school with no noise around. School had finished about ten minutes ago, and the kids hadn't wasted any time in heading home. Kathryn knew she was lucky living so close, because her hot meal always sat on the table waiting for her. Mum had probably been at the front gate looking to see where she was.

Today Kathryn didn't care. She lingered close to the concrete school steps, before beginning to slowly wander down the bitumen slope near the back of the school.

'I'll see you Monday, Kathryn,' Mr. Downey said, striding past her.

'Yes sir,' she replied, and began to hurry behind Mr. Downey, when she realised all the teachers would be gone soon and the school grounds would be totally empty, except for a cleaner.

Something hit her on the leg. Kathryn winced from the sudden sting. Looking down she saw a small pebble. Someone had thrown a stone at her. She glared across the playground. Kevin Sanders grinned at her. What was he up to? With a strange look on his face he started to move in her direction. Kathryn's heart began to beat faster. She began to feel afraid, although she wasn't sure why.

Kevin remained popular with the other kids. He had a cheeky face, reminding Kathryn of a chimpanzee, and his brown eyes looked as though they were smiling. Usually his rusty-coloured hair fell onto his forehead in a sort of curl. Sometimes Mr-Downey told him to fix it up, that he wasn't a film star. Kevin would grin and push his hair back, although before too long it would fall down again. Most days Kevin didn't seem to notice Kathryn at all, but today was different.

Mr. Downey reached his car and Miss Stefan, the kindergarten teacher who had walked across from the Infants area, was about to get into the passenger seat.

Kathryn called out. 'Mr. Downey! Kevin is after me!

To her horror, both Mr. Downey and Miss Stefan laughed and waved at her, before getting into the car to drive across the tarred playground and out the side exit. Kathryn would have to make a run for it. It was about two hundred yards to the back gate of the school and then another shorter distance across the street to the safety of her home. She wished hard that her legs would run faster, as fast as Jane's.

Down the asphalt incline she raced, hair flying, heart thumping. Kevin was gaining on her. There was only one thing to do. Taking a deep breath she ran through the opening of the corrugated iron girls' lav. Kevin would never dare to go in there; it belonged to the girls.

Letting her breath out as slowly as she could, she stared around, curious to see what it looked like. There were five cubicles, one with teacher written on the door. She couldn't imagine any of the teachers coming into this smelly building. But they would probably have to, because they couldn't go home as she did.

Breathing in short, shallow bursts so she wouldn't have to take in too much of the foul air, Kathryn crept along the concrete floor to the end opening closer to her home and peeped out. There was no sign of Kevin amongst the wattle bushes.

A leaf fluttered down from one of the trees. Her heart hammering, she peered upwards. Surely Kevin wouldn't have climbed a tree, ready to pounce on her. A black and white magpie rustled amongst the gum tree leaves and, giving a melodious whistle, flew away. She smiled with relief; it was nothing but a bird. Whatever Kevin wanted wouldn't keep him hanging around forever. He must have given up and gone home. After all, he did live on the other side of town, near Aunty Lil.

As she moved slowly out of the building Kathryn tried to make sure she didn't stand on any of the fallen twigs from the gum trees. Not making a sound was important when escaping from the enemy; she knew that from watching the pictures every Saturday afternoon. Sucking in some wonderful deep gulps of fresh air, she tiptoed towards the gate, glancing around every few seconds, just in case she'd made a mistake and Kevin hadn't gone home.

'Yahoo!' A loud victorious whoop sounded from behind one of the trees and Kathryn's legs wobbled for a minute. Shaking with fear, she began to run, the fastest her legs had ever moved. Thump! Thump! Her feet pounded the ground. Her breath was on fire and caught in her chest while she pushed her body to go faster. Kevin panted heavily behind her. Not game enough to look around, she urged her legs to speed, fly over the ground like Superman preparing to take off. She made it to the rusty school gate, although as she grabbed it Kevin caught her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

'I'm going to tell on you Kevin Sanders,' she said anxiously, twisting away from his grasp.

Kevin didn't say a word; the expression on his face seemed really peculiar as he leaned towards her. For a moment, Kathryn thought he was going to kiss her. But he grinned in his cheeky way, punched her hard on the arm, turned and scuttled down the street.

Kathryn remained looking after him and rubbing the painful twinge on her upper arm. Boys were strange. She'd been sure he was about to kiss her. Deep down, she knew punching her like that meant Kevin really liked her. Maybe he'd been thinking about Helen of Troy too.

After being trapped in the girls' lav, she didn't want to have anymore to do with that story. What if one of the men in the wooden horse had poohed his pants like Billy did all the time? She shuddered, imagining what it would be like being locked inside the huge wooden horse and not being able to breathe freely.

She didn't want to live anywhere else, nor in any other time. Home in Merthyr Vale was the best. She ran across the street ready to tell her mother and father about the test she did today, and to ask Mum to look for nits. Even if she had to have her hair washed with kerosene it would be better than having horrible lice running around.

Chapter Eight

November 1956

'Mum! Are you home?

Polly smiled, pushed herself up from where she'd been kneeling on the floor, wrung out her cleaning cloth and put it into a bucket with the scrubbing brush. Where else would she be? After living with her for more than twenty years, her son should know on Wednesdays she always washed and polished the linoleum covered floors and cleaned the bathroom.

'I'm in the bathroom, Johnny,' she called. 'I'm nearly finished here. Have you brought the kids over?

Johnny didn't answer and Polly wiped her hands on her floral apron, before walking out to the dining room to find her second born son slumped over the table. Late morning sunrays streamed through the lace-curtained window, creating a halo around him. His eyes were closed, and he seemed so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't look up when she entered the room.

Something was wrong. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Polly stood quietly for a moment to gaze at her son. As much as she loved her family, there was no way she would be an interfering mother-in-law. But right now, seeing her son looking so forlorn, she wanted to go out the door and over to his house; to face the stupid girl he'd married; to tell her to wake up to herself; to shake some sense into her and make her realise what a good man she had.

Johnny didn't seem to notice Polly standing there, watching him. Was he still worrying about Betty's abortion? Sometimes men found it harder to accept than a woman that a child they'd created wasn't going to have a chance to live. Chip took it exceptionally hard when she had a miscarriage, before she fell pregnant with Kathryn. An abortion was definitely worse. As well as the emotional torment it produced within the family, it had the potential to cause a hurtful scandal.

Polly had heard women in the big cities had gone to gaol for being involved with getting rid of babies. There was no way that would happen in Merthyr Vale. People here protected one another. Besides, Sergeant Corcoran wouldn't charge anyone. He was part of the town. Still, Polly wouldn't want Betty's abortion gossiped about. Thank God, it hadn't been made public. She had May Chandler to thank for that small mercy.

'No kids,' Polly said, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite her son. She wanted to find out why he wasn't at work, but one look at his face told her to let him do the talking.

'Oh, Mum, I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing.' Johnny reached across the wooden table, pushing the fruit bowl aside, to grab her hand.

'Of course you are,' Polly answered as calmly as she could. She could see the pain on his face and in his sorrowful brown eyes, although she had no idea what he meant. She wanted to put her arms around him and hold him as she did when he was little, but that wouldn't do. He'd grown into a man. 'What are you going to do?

'Betty's gone. She's taken the kids.' Johnny's voice cracked.

'Where to?' Polly squeezed his hand. Somehow she didn't want to know the answer. Ever since Betty had been rushed to hospital after getting rid of the baby her son looked more miserable each time she saw him; although that had been very few times since the traumatic night. Betty hadn't been in as much danger as Polly had expected; the young woman had been released from hospital the next day, with no complications. The doctor told them Betty would have no trouble falling pregnant again, although Polly didn't find that news heartening.

'Who's going on holiday?' Ada interrupted, entering the room.

Polly was in no mood for her mother's nonsense. 'For Christ sake, Mum, no one's going on holiday,' she said, getting to her feet. 'Johnny's here for a visit.

'Where's he going to sleep then? There's no room with me.

Polly sighed, holding her temper in check. It looked as though her mother wasn't going to settle. 'What are you going on about, Mum?

Ada pointed behind her. 'That,' she said.

Polly moved to the dining room doorway, so she could see what her mother meant. A battered brown port stood inside the back door. For a moment Polly thought her legs were going to give way, when the blood drained from her body. Leaning backwards, she clutched the cream wooden doorjamb behind her, supporting herself hard against it. But only for a moment. Merthyr Vale women were strong, especially those from her family.

Straightening, she turned towards her son. 'What's going on?

'That's what I've been trying to tell you,' Johnny said, raking his hand through his auburn hair. 'Betty's gone for good. Back to live with her parents in Armidale. I won't get to see the kids very often from now on, so with the pits looking dicey around here, I've decided to go.

'You can't sleep here. There's no room.' Ada placed her hands on her hips and jutted out her chin. She didn't seem to know who Johnny was.

'He's not staying Mum,' Polly snapped, the back of her throat burning from bitten-off tears. She reached her hand out towards her son. 'Let's go for a walk around the yard.

After slowly pushing himself upright, Johnny shuffled around the table. Polly had never seen her son like this. He moved like an old man, his shoulders drooping and his head bent. Although her belly churned from watching him, she knew she had to keep herself together for all their sakes. Sucking in a harshly drawn breath, she turned to her mother. 'We won't be long, Mum. It's nearly time for lunch.

'Where's he going?' Ada asked, looking suspiciously at her grandson.

'I'll tell you about it when we get back. Why don't you have a look at this magazine?

Handing her mother an Australian Women's Weekly, Polly gently guided her to the rocking chair and helped her sit, then linking her arm with her son's, she moved with him out of the house, down the steps and towards Chip's garden. It seemed so ordinary, vegetables blooming, the peach tree's pink blossoms forming a carpet on the ground, a sleepy stillness in the warm spring air broken only by bees busily buzzing. Oh God, how she wished Chip was here.

'Does your father know?' she asked.

She felt Johnny's arm trembling against her and she firmed her hold on him, trying to reassure them both. The thought of losing contact with her son and grandchildren was too hard to take in properly, but she had to. She hadn't seen much of the twins since Ada moved in with them and Polly yearned to see them, but she would see less of them now, perhaps never. She pushed that horrible thought away. It must be so much harder for Johnny, who would miss being around both his small children. Just as well Betty wasn't there, because Polly could kill her without a moment's hesitation – well, maybe not murder her, but give her a definite tongue-lashing.

Johnny paused before answering. 'I told Dad last fortnight when I gave in my notice. I would have thought he'd tell you.

Polly wasn't surprised Chip hadn't told her. He would probably think keeping her in the dark protected her from something that might not happen. Dealing with emotional troubles wasn't something Chip handled well; he was worse than any man she knew in keeping his deepest thoughts to himself. And she knew he wouldn't have given up hope that his son would stay.

Now she understood why Chip had withdrawn even further inside himself this past week. Her husband would feel the cost more deeply than anyone. 'Where will you go?' she asked, touching Johnny on his face.

'Some of the blokes I used to work with have already moved to the south coast, down near Bulli. I'll probably move in with one of them to start with till I get a job.

Without warning, Johnny grabbed her in a bear hug. Polly clung to him for a few minutes, before pushing him away. If she held him as long as she wanted, she knew she would let out the grief burning a hole in her insides. Johnny couldn't notice her cry. Seeing his mother break down would make it so much harder for him to leave. She wouldn't put Johnny through that emotional wringer. After he left she would go into the privacy of her bedroom, then, if the smarting tears couldn't be bitten off, she would let them fall.

'Did she tell you why she was leaving?' She had to ask. Some women had reasons for doing the wrong thing. Reasons they thought made sense. As far as she was concerned, there was no excuse for a woman to leave her husband, unless he belted her too much. An occasional slap could be put up with, though she'd never experienced that herself. Chip never raised his hand in anger.

Johnny shook his head. 'I don't know. Life here has never suited her, I guess. She said she has no friends her own age and no family around. And I'm not enough to keep her happy.

'Johnny, I think no one would keep Betty happy. Her sort looks for misery everywhere.

Polly knew she was on dangerous ground, putting Betty down, especially if she and Johnny were to get back together. But, seeing the hurt on her son's face put paid to any thoughts of being sympathetic to that hard piece.

'When did she take the kids?' she asked, trying to get her thoughts away from what she would like to do to her daughter-in-law. Right now, Polly wanted more than anything to make Betty suffer for causing so much hurt to Johnny and the darling twins. How could a married woman and mother be so selfish and childish?

Tears formed in Johnny's eyes. 'Henry and June drove down on Sunday and picked them up. Oh, Mum, they're so little. Do you think they'll remember me?

'Of course they will,' she said gruffly. 'You will come to visit them and us, won't you? Betty won't try to stop you from seeing little Johnny and Joanie?

'No, she said I can come whenever I want. But that's just it. She knows with the distance and all, I won't be able to do it often.

Polly clamped her lips together. Betty had proved to be a bitch. There was no two ways about it. And Polly couldn't stop the depressing thoughts racing through her mind. This was going to be the worst scandal to hit her family in over thirty years. The gossip surrounding Chip's mother had been rife in the small community when Polly had started courting him, even though Maud Carpenter hadn't been around for a long time.

A woman leaving her husband would start tongues wagging. Everyone would think he'd been playing around with another woman or beating her up. Some might even think they were considering a divorce. Polly grimaced. Divorce was one shame that had never been in their family. She couldn't say anything about that to her son now. He was hurting enough.

'You will write to us. Let us know where you are, how you're going?

'Of course I will. You might even consider getting the telephone on.' Johnny smiled at her, before looking at his watch. 'Mum, I need to go and say good-bye to Nana. My train's due in twenty minutes and I have to walk to the station.

Polly kissed him on the cheek. 'I wish I could walk with you and see you off properly.

'I know, I'd like to spend more time with you. Will you give Kathryn a hug from me and this ten shillings for her birthday next week?' Johnny pushed the crumpled note into his mother's hand. 'I wanted to see her myself, but things haven't worked out.' Johnny turned away and ran up the steps to gather his belongings.

Polly stood for a moment, watching her son disappear into the house. Things hadn't worked out. That was putting it mildly. Her family should be together. That was her dream, always had been, and always would be. Now Johnny was leaving.

When would she ever see her son again? Why had Johnny chosen such a cowardly woman? Someone who wanted the easy way out of every situation definitely didn't fit in with the Merthyr Vale way of life. And didn't belong in the Carpenter family, certainly not since Phillips blood had been introduced to provide some extra strength, some down-to-earth character.

Polly planned to hold her head high, just as Chip had done in the past when his mother had let him down. Maybe Johnny and Betty would get back together one day. As much as she disliked Betty, that remained the best option for Joanie and little Johnnie, to have a mother and father together. Only weak women ran away.

**********************************************************************

Polly looked at the clock for what seemed the thousandth time. She was proud of what she'd accomplished today: the last of the ironing packed away; the floors gleaming where she'd washed and polished them; her mother and Kathryn asleep in bed. But where was Chip? He'd come in briefly from work, barely touched his tea, even though she'd cooked a meal of steak and home grown vegetables, something he usually liked, then he'd gone out. He'd said he planned to visit Bobby and then perhaps call into Charlie's.

Visiting wasn't one of Chip's usual activities, but Polly knew Johnny's leaving had affected him deeply. He needed to see his other sons, to make sure they were going to stay around; she understood that. She'd been close to tears a few times today, especially when she'd dragged out the photo albums. Pictures of their family holidays and Christmas parties brought the occasional smile to her face, but when she'd picked up a photo of the three boys with their arms around each other, tears fell. Her boys had been close. They still were.

She packed the albums away and tried to put things in perspective. Johnny was fit; he'd promised he would come back to see them at Christmas. The twins enjoyed good health; and she wouldn't allow herself to consider she would lose contact with them.

Somehow the house felt too small, as Polly moved from the kitchen through to the front room and back again. Her grandchildren's voices seemed to echo throughout. Shaking her head, she tried to clear her thoughts. Dwelling on might-be's wasn't what she needed. Besides, she still had two of her sons and their families here. The immediate problem was Chip. Bobby and Charlie started work early, just as Chip did, and would probably be going to bed by now. So why wasn't her husband home?

Stopping her restless pacing, Polly picked up one of Kathryn's magazines and looked at the glossy cover: another story about Princess Margaret. Thank God the King had died before he knew of his beautiful daughter's involvement with a divorced man. However handsome Peter Townsend was, divorce shouldn't be tolerated anywhere, especially in the Royal Family. They should be setting the standard for everyone.

Her own Kathryn constantly looked at her book about the Royal sisters and particularly admired Princess Margaret, because she looked so pretty. Polly hoped Kathryn wouldn't start getting wrong ideas about marriage commitment from doting on the Princess.

Chip and Kathryn always had their noses in a book and Polly couldn't understand their fascination. It didn't interest her. She usually only perused the scandals and then studied her stars, but that took little time. Who had time to read anyway? The only reading she did was to her mother, trying to keep her occupied and striving to stimulate her memory.

Wondering what was on the air tonight, she moved into the kitchen where the brown wireless sat on the cupboard top. Kathryn had listened to one of her favourites earlier, either the silly Greenbottle or Jack Davey. Not in the mood for any of the serials or quiz shows, Polly decided some music might soothe her, so she tuned into a local station.

Someone called Elvis Presley started singing something about his baby leaving him. Resting her elbows on the cupboard, she lost herself in the music, admiring the singer's soulful voice and message until the song ended. The presenter gave the title: Heartbreak Hotel; it wasn't too bad. She would look for a copy of the sheet music, if her sister came over on Tuesday and allowed Polly to go shopping.

Then the next song started.

'Shit!' Polly straightened from where she'd been leaning forward, her chin on her hands. Her mood was spoilt. She could have stayed there for some time listening to the appealing music, but some ridiculous bloke was singing about rocking around the clock, whatever that meant. She remembered seeing him on a magazine cover last week. He looked absolutely stupid with his fat face and a curl in the middle of his forehead. What had happened to Bing Crosby or even Frank Sinatra? At least they could hold a tune and chose decent songs.

Switching off the wireless, she made up her mind. She would make herself a cup of tea and treat herself to a piece of cake. Although she'd been putting on a bit of weight lately, tonight she wasn't going to let that bother her; she deserved something nice.

Before getting her extra supper ready, she decided to check on Kathryn. Sometimes Kathryn's imagination got the better of her and she would see spiders in the shadows. Then her bed coverings would end up in a heap on the floor. Quite often, the next morning she would be covered in mosquito bites, and because Kathryn had sensitive skin, those bites would frequently turn into blisters.

Slightly puzzled, Polly stopped in the bedroom doorway. Her daughter's bed had a suspicious looking bump in it. Polly moved into the room to find Kathryn holding the bedspread over her head, while she read by faint torchlight.

'Kathryn! What are you doing? You'll ruin your eyes.

Her eyes red-rimmed and tear-stained, Kathryn looked up at her mother. Immediately Polly wanted to make amends for sounding so irritable. Taking her daughter's hand in hers, she sat down on the edge of the bed. 'I'm sorry for being cranky with you. Have you been worrying about Johnny and the twins?

'No.' Kathryn sniffed and tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

'What is it then? Has someone at school upset you?' Prickles of heat ran up Polly's arms and into her face. As far as she was concerned, honey won you more than vinegar in most areas of life, but she'd take on anyone who tormented her daughter.

'Beth just died,' Kathryn answered, her sniffles beginning to turn into sobs.

'Oh, you poor darling! Who's Beth? I don't remember you mentioning her before. Has she recently moved here?' Polly smoothed down Kathryn's hair, trying to console her distressed daughter.

Holding her book up so her mother could see the cover, Kathryn gave Polly an exasperated look. 'Mum, I'm talking about Beth March. One of the sisters in Good Wives.

Letting go of Kathryn's hand, Polly got to her feet. 'What a lot of bloody nonsense, crying over a story! There'll be enough real tragedies in your life you'll have to deal with, rather than some imaginary family.

Polly leant forward, took the torch from Kathryn's hand, switched it off and placed it in the bedside drawer. 'Your father lives his life too much through books and I don't want you to do the same. Now go to sleep. It's a school day tomorrow.

Her thoughts going off on a tangent, Polly left the room. Chip had to leave for work early tomorrow as well. He didn't recover as easily from his heavy drinking as he used to. Why had the pubs started opening till ten? Six o'clock closing had been much better, especially for the wives as they waited to see how much of the pay their husbands spent, either on drink or with the local bookie.

So far Chip remained reasonably sensible with his gambling on the horses and greyhounds. His drinking bothered her most. There'd been a substantial cut in the money in the last few pay packets and the extra he seemed to be spending on grog wasn't good. Although Chip explained the bonuses were down because of fewer orders for the coal, that explanation wasn't enough to keep her happy.

Next month they had a lot of extra expense with the new electric stove and washing machine. Of course, there would be alterations as well to move the fridge into the kitchen. Then the council had announced the sewer was being put on soon, and they needed to build a new toilet closer to the house.

If she were being completely honest, it wasn't the money causing her extra grey hairs. They had saved enough to cover all the extras. No, it was worrying about the past that was getting her down. Chip's father had been a drunk and alcohol had destroyed his family. And now Chip had started to drink more, she worried he might go down the same path. She shook her head. Not if she had anything to do with it. Maud Carpenter had proved to be a spineless woman. There was no way Polly would ever put herself in the same category as Chip's mother.

Polly looked at the clock again; it was after ten. She might as well go to bed. Even if Chip could survive with a few hours sleep, she couldn't. Taking care of her mother consumed her time. Every night Polly went to bed exhausted. And she had started heavy monthlies. Talking with her sister Maggie gave her some consolation on that issue. Maggie said it was "the change" approaching and all women went through it, though Polly would need to see the doctor if things got worse. Polly knew she couldn't allow things to get worse. The family needed her too much here at home.

Before she went to bed, Polly walked through to the back door to make sure the deadlock was in place. As she did so, she passed her mother's room and glanced in, before stopping in the doorway for a few minutes to gaze at the old woman. Sound asleep, Ada snored a little, her teeth in a jar beside the bed. Looking after her mother tired Polly out, and she wished Maggie would take Ada for a couple of months. Those thoughts chewed away at her as she stood there, before she came to the conclusion it wasn't really an option. Ada had been a loving mother and she deserved the best of care. Maggie wouldn't give it. Besides, things seemed to be back to normal with Ada. No more night wanderings.

Turning off the lights as she went, Polly made her way slowly back to the front bedroom. She'd barely changed into her nightie when Laddie gave a bark: a welcoming woof. Listening intently, she heard the front gate open with a slight squeak, then Chip speak affectionately to the dog. By now she was attuned to Chip's state of drunkenness and she knew he was pretty far-gone.

Pushing aside the bedroom curtains, she peered out into the yard. That's when it hit her; Chip wasn't singing. An empty feeling swirled in her belly. Why was everything changing so much? For the first time in her life she wanted him to sing, to bring back the familiar sounds, but it didn't happen. She walked to the front door to let him in.

Chapter Nine

November 1956

'Kathryn, don't go over to Jane's this morning. I'm going to give you a Toni,' Mum called out from the kitchen. Delicious warm smells had been coming from there since after breakfast: cake and slice smells, maybe even mulberry pie.

Smiling with anticipation, Kathryn almost bounced into her room to change out of her pyjamas and make her bed. She'd been sitting in the dining room well after the meal finished, reading Little Women for the sixth or seventh time. As much as she loved the story, she wanted to have something different to do today. And now everything promised to be wonderful, when she thought it would be disappointing.

Jane planned to go to that Church of England or Catholic Church again, whatever it was called. Kathryn told her father how confused she felt about whether Jane's church was Catholic or not. Dad hadn't helped. He nodded and said churches were renowned for keeping people confused. So she decided she wouldn't go back to Jane's church again. She'd been wondering what she would do while Jane went to church. Now she knew.

Her mother permed her hair a couple of times a year. It made Kathryn feel really pretty when she looked in the mirror and saw her curls. Her mousy brown hair seemed to shine more. And she felt like one of the film stars she'd seen at the pictures: Debbie Reynolds or Grace Kelly. Although Grace Kelly and that other lovely blonde woman, Marilyn Monroe, had silver hair, Kathryn knew deep down Debbie Reynolds looked just as beautiful with brown curly hair.

Mum always wanted Kathryn to wear something old when she got her hair done, so she took a faded cotton dress from her wardrobe and put it on. It had started to get a bit tight around the chest and Mum would probably put it in a ragbag soon. Posing with one hand behind her head and the other on her hip, Kathryn stood in front of the bedroom mirror attached to her dressing table. She wasn't as pretty as Jane Burgoyne or Debbie Reynolds, but a couple of the boys at school had asked her to be their girlfriend, so they must think she looked all right.

Noticing that she was starting to get bumps on the front of her chest, she frowned at herself in the mirror. Now she had turned eleven, did that mean she would start getting more of a shape? She wasn't sure if she wanted to have a bust. One of the boys in her class, Freddy Harris, called her "tits wobble" the other day when he watched her run.

Well, she hated running against the others in the school sports days. She decided she wouldn't try to win ever again, when she had to go in the races at school. Then no one would be able to see if she jiggled about.

Freddy Harris was horrible. There was no way she would consider having Freddy as her boyfriend. He happened to be a skinny boy, who came almost last in the tests. She was still deciding between Kevin and David Mullens. Kevin continued to be a bit of a daredevil, but David had to be the best-looking boy at school.

Closing her eyes, she thought of David with his dark eyes, black hair and dimples. To think that David was after her to be his girlfriend. Smiling, she leant forward and kissed the mirror. The surface was cold against her warm lips, but if she scrunched her eyes especially tight she could imagine David's handsome face. Wouldn't he be surprised if she kissed him?

'Kathryn! Are you ready?

Flushing guiltily, Kathryn turned away from the mirror, gave her snug fitting dress another tug and hurried out to where her mother waited. A mulberry pie cooled on the cupboard near the sink and a lemon meringue pie sat next to it. They must be expecting visitors today, because Mum usually only made cakes and other desserts on Saturday.

'We'll go out to the backyard,' Mum said. 'It's lovely today. I've already put a chair out there for Nana, so she can join us.

Kathryn draped an old towel around her shoulders and followed her mother down the steps. Nana, shaded from the late morning sun by the washhouse, sat on a yellow cane chair waiting for them. Before she got ready to have her hair done, Kathryn skipped over to her grandmother and kissed her on the cheek.

'What was that for?' Nana said, smiling at her. Nana had the loveliest smile, even if her teeth were false.

'No reason. I'm just happy.

'You should be out playing tennis, not here at home. I was a champion tennis player you know.

Kathryn wasn't sure how to answer Nana, so she nodded her head.

'Sit down,' Mum said. 'I've got everything we need.

An old card table with hair rollers, the perming solution and a comb on top stood on the concrete slab between the back steps and washhouse. A couple of faded camping chairs, ready for Kathryn and Mum, were next to Nana.

Kathryn knew some of her friends absolutely hated the smell from the Toni perm. She had to admit sometimes she coughed when the fumes went up her nose. Usually she didn't mind. She loved her mother tugging at her hair, rolling it in the plastic rollers and wetting it with the strong solution. Every now and then she thought she was strange enjoying the pong, especially when she hated some other stinky things, like the girls' lav, so much.

'You look like your father's mother,' Nana said, reaching out and touching Kathryn's arm.

'Ouch!' Kathryn flinched as her mother suddenly wrenched at her hair. Turning towards her grandmother, she answered, 'I haven't seen Dad's Mum. I thought she was dead.

'Only to some people.' Nana had a funny smile on her face, almost as though she was a cheeky little girl.

'Mum!' Polly let go of Kathryn's hair and turned to Nana. 'Enough said.

'What's going on? Why don't you want me to know about my grandmother? Is she alive?' Kathryn pulled away from her mother's grasp to look into her eyes and saw that Mum didn't look happy.

'She was a bit of a tart, your grandmother,' Nana said. 'Left your father with his grandparents, so she could run off with her fancy man.

'Mum!

Kathryn could see her mother was getting cranky, so she didn't say anything, though by now she was dying to know more. Just as well she hadn't gone to church with Jane. Finding out she actually had another grandmother was much more interesting and exciting.

'It's the truth.' Nana folded her arms. 'The girl should be told.

'Perhaps you're right,' Mum said.

Little tingles ran up and down Kathryn's back and her heart began to thud in her chest. Her mother sounded so sure she didn't want to tell her anything and now she'd changed her mind. Crossing her fingers Kathryn made a silent wish - a sort of prayer - that she would find out the truth. This was the closest she'd ever come to it, so she grabbed hold of the opportunity.

'Will you tell me, Mum? Pleeease!' she said in her best pleading voice.

Her mother paused before answering and Kathryn held her breath. 'We don't know if she's alive or not.' Mum wound another curl into place. 'Your father hasn't heard from her for years.

'No wonder he didn't hear from her. What kind of woman leaves her only child and runs off. She was nothing but a slut.' Nana looked at Mum with a weird look on her face again.

Kathryn stopped herself from giggling. Sometimes when she wanted her own way and didn't get it, she pulled a face like Nana was doing now. But she wasn't game enough to laugh out loud, because she could tell Mum wasn't happy.

Mum pushed a pin into the roller so hard Kathryn winced when it scratched her head. If Nana didn't keep quiet, getting her hair permed would become too painful. As much as she wanted to know about Dad's family, Kathryn wished Nana would stop making Mum cranky.

'For heaven's sakes,' Mum said to Nana, 'if Chip heard you talk like that he wouldn't be pleased.

Kathryn took another deep breath and waited. She'd imagined for years her father had been left somewhere, just like Moses in the Bulrushes. Now she would hear the true story. And she had a funny feeling it wasn't going to be anywhere near as exciting.

'Are you going to tell me Mum?' she prodded, when no one said anything.

Her mother sighed and patted some solution onto her hair. 'There, we've finished for the moment till you need rinsing off.' She dabbed at the remainder of the rollers, before sitting down on a spare camping chair facing both Nana and Kathryn.

'Your Grandfather Carpenter was a drunk,' she said, looking straight into Kathryn's eyes.

'So are half the men in this town,' Nana interrupted. 'That's no excuse.

Mum frowned at Nana. 'Please, let me tell Kathryn in my own time. It's hard enough, especially when I don't know if I'm doing the right thing.

'My Bob has never been a piss pot,' Nana said, shaking her head.

'Dad's dead. Has been for years!' Mum yelled.

'Is he? Why didn't somebody tell me?' Tears began to roll down Nana's cheeks and Kathryn's heart scrunched tight. Her eyes stinging, she sucked in a breath, managing to stop herself from crying too. She didn't like anyone to cry, especially someone she loved. She could see her mother was really sorry for talking to Nana like that, because when she looked at her mother, Mum's eyes were sad.

'Would you like a cup of tea?' Mum said, leaning forward to take Nana's hand in hers.

'No, I'm going into the house to have a rest.

'I'll take you up,' Mum said, getting to her feet.

Clamping her lips together, Kathryn folded her arms and glared at her mother. She would never get to find out about her other grandparents. Tapping her foot on the concrete, she watched her mother patiently help Nana up the steps and into the house. They had only eaten breakfast two hours ago and now her grandmother was going back to bed. Nana seemed to sleep more than Bobby's son Mervyn did, and he was only seven months old.

Deciding it was her best option, Kathryn followed them; waiting in the kitchen while Mum took Nana into her bedroom and assisted her into bed. Nana's behaviour puzzled Kathryn. Her grandmother could seem okay, remembering the past and talking about it, and then, without warning, she'd become forgetful and really old. For a moment she wondered if Nana pretended, so Mum would be nice to her, but she knew that wasn't true. Mum was always kind to Nana.

'Are you going to tell me now, Mum?' she asked, once her mother had left Nana's room.

'All right. We'll go into the dining room, so we don't disturb Nana. First, though I'm going to make a cup of tea; I'm parched. ' Mum lifted the electric jug from the top of the wooden cream kitchen cupboard and shook it to make sure it had water in it, before switching it on.

'I don't drink tea,' Kathryn said. She wasn't game enough to get too cheeky, because she didn't think her mother had made her mind up properly yet. It seemed like forever before the jug boiled and Mum made her tea, then carried it into the dining room. Kathryn passed the time by counting up to two hundred silently, until the moment came and she followed her mother into the next room.

After pulling out a chair, Mum sat down, indicating that Kathryn should sit next to her.

'You have to promise me that you'll never let your father know that you've heard anything,' Mum said seriously.

'Cross my heart and hope to die.' Kathryn made a mark on her chest and leant closer to her mother.

Mum didn't waste any time once she started. 'Maud Carpenter had no money because her husband Jim, your grandfather, was a drunk. He hardly ever worked and when he did, he took most of the money to spend on grog. I think that she should have stood up to him and made sure he gave her the money, but she wasn't as strong as the Phillips women.

Kathryn smiled; Mum often said how strong the Phillips women were. She knew her mother considered herself a hard worker and a good saver. Determined to be just like her mother when she grew up, Kathryn had already made plans to put all her money in the bank, once she had some. Then she would never have to worry about not having enough as her father's mother must have. 'What did she do?' she asked.

Before answering, her mother stirred some sugar into her tea and Kathryn crossed every finger she could, hoping that Mum would continue.

'She had to do something to feed them, so she got a job working as a cleaner for the local priest.

'Up at the other Catholic Church? Here in Merthyr Vale?' Kathryn leant forward. Now the story was getting really interesting. The Catholic Church always seemed mysterious. Even the kids who went there seemed different to her. They wore a uniform to school and Kathryn would sometimes join in with the kids from her school when they would shout, "Catholics, Catholics ooh la la, ought to be, ought to be, dipped in tar".

Mum nodded, answering her daughter's question. 'The priest was quite a few years younger than Maud and he was a good-looking man. Of course, your grandfather being an Orangeman didn't help matters.

Kathryn was puzzled. She'd never heard of anyone who was an Orangeman. She couldn't imagine someone with orange skin or wearing orange clothes. Eric Smirthkoff had orange hair. Was that what Mum meant? 'What's an Orangeman?' she asked.

'You'll have to ask your father that one, some other time,' Mum said. 'All I know is that they hate Catholics.

Now Kathryn felt especially confused. Why would her grandfather marry her grandmother, if he hated the church she belonged to? It didn't make sense. 'Was she Catholic?' she asked.

Mum shrugged. 'What difference does it make? I think she might have been, but she certainly didn't practice her religion.

'What do you mean?

Mum hesitated, as though she was thinking about what she was going to say. 'She ran off with the priest, Father Mallory, I think he was called. That was the wrong thing to do on three counts. First of all, Catholic priests don't...' She stopped again, to search for the right word. 'Catholic priests don't shag around - don't have a wife or girlfriends,' she continued. 'Well, they're not supposed to ever get married, or have anything to do with sleeping with women, and second, your grandmother was already married and third, she had a child. She left your father with her parents and disappeared out of his life.

Kathryn thought for a moment. How hard would it be if her mother left? Then she would only have Dad and he didn't know how to cook or clean. It must have been horrible for Dad to be left without his mother. But Mum hadn't said anything about Dad's father, other than that he drank too much.

'What about Dad's father?' she asked.

'He was around, but didn't help in any way with the raising of your father. Drank himself to death by the time your father was seven apparently. If Chip's mother had just bloody well done the right thing and stuck by her husband and child, then we wouldn't have had such a terrible family scandal.' Mum sipped the last of her tea.

'Oh.' Now Kathryn wasn't sure she wanted to know. Before today, she could imagine lots of lovely stories about Dad; how he'd been found and brought up by a wonderful family; how his parents had loved him, but they'd been killed in an accident. Her father being an orphan was much nicer than him having a horrible mother and father. Poor Dad.

'Kathryn,' her mother said seriously, 'I'm trusting you with this. I think it's better that you know and understand rather than being told by some stranger one day. And remember your promise. Not a word to your father.

'Where is Dad? I thought he'd gone down the road to swap some tomato plants with his friend.

Kathryn watched her mother's mouth. Mum was usually in a good mood and smiled a lot, but Kathryn knew to never argue with Mum, when her lips came together in a tight line.

'I think your Dad has made a detour past the Golf Club,' Mum said. She stood, picked up her empty cup and saucer and headed for the kitchen. 'It's about time to finish your hair,' she called over her shoulder.

Kathryn would have loved to hear more family stories, some happy family stories. She liked to hear how Mum and Dad met. How Dad asked Mum could he walk her home after a dance at the church hall. How Mum's parents told them they were too young. The stories she read in True Confessions weren't anywhere near as interesting as finding out about her parents.

'Mum?' she called.

'Kathryn,' Mum said, coming back into the dining room, 'enough questions for now. Go into the bathroom and I'll rinse the solution off your hair.

*********************************************************************

'Jesus bloody Christ! What's Loopy been up to!'

After rustling the big Monday morning newspaper back into shape, Dad put it down on the table. Kathryn already understood something was wrong by the tone of her father's voice, but when she saw his face she knew something definitely wasn't right. Mum rushed in from the kitchen to see what was the matter.

Kathryn realised Loopy Wilmington was Billy's Dad and she waited, watching her parents' faces. It must be something really important to be in the paper. Disappointment burned through her again when Mum took the newspaper from Dad and read it silently.

'Oh, the poor little buggers,' Mum exclaimed, sitting down at the table.

Stretching her neck, Kathryn tried to see what her parents were looking at. 'What's going on?' she asked, crossing her fingers and silently wishing they would tell her.

Mum looked up from the paper. 'Kathryn, get dressed for school.'

Frowning, Kathryn got to her feet. Dad hadn't gone to work. She didn't know why. She would look at the newspaper when Dad went out and Nana kept Mum busy. One day, Kathryn would be a grown-up and would get to find out everything. But when she went to look for the newspaper Mum had torn the front page off, probably to show Aunty Maggie, who was coming over later today.

As soon as she got to school, Kathryn forgot all about Billy, especially once Jane got there and they began to play hopscotch. Then the bell rang and they marched into school. Lessons had barely started when Mr. Bunn, the headmaster, came into their room. Immediately they stood and said "Good morning Mr. Bunn", before Mr Downey told them to be seated.

'I imagine you've heard about Billy Wilmington's family,' Mr. Bunn said.

Most of the kids nodded and Kathryn looked around, amazed that they knew what had happened. Their parents must tell them more than she was allowed to know.

Mr. Bunn looked very serious, when he continued, 'I would like you to not say anything about his family to Billy when he comes back to school. He will be very upset. He will go to stay with his grandmother once he gets out of hospital and should be back at school within the next couple of weeks.

Kathryn watched Mr. Bunn leave the room before focussing her attention on Mr. Downey. He'd be sure to tell them more. But Mr. Downey remained as disappointing as her parents, going straight into the lessons. How was she to not say anything to Billy, when she didn't understand what she wasn't supposed to say?

'Do you know anything about Billy?' She leant over and whispered to Georgie Thompson. She knew he lived in the same street as Billy's family.

Nodding his head, Georgie began to answer, but before he could, Mr. Downey rapped a ruler on the desk and told them to get back to work. The lessons became interesting and Kathryn didn't remember to ask Georgie again. In fact, she almost forgot about it until she saw Jenny Siddell talking to Georgie Thompson in the playground.

Kathryn could ask Georgie again, but she suspected Jenny would tell her more. After walking up to them, she touched Jenny on the arm. 'Can I talk to you, Jenny?

With a grin on her face, Jenny turned away from Georgie. 'What do you want?'

Pleased at her choice of informant, Kathryn smiled back. She suspected Jenny would like to be her best friend and would tell her everything. 'I want to find out what's going on with Billy Wilmington's family.'

Don't you know anything?'

Kathryn began to get cranky. It wasn't fair that everyone was talking about Billy and she didn't have a clue. Now, when she asked, something or someone stopped her from finding out. Taking a deep breath, she blurted, 'Dad read something in the paper this morning that was pretty bad, but I didn't hear what it was.'

Jenny didn't waste any time. 'He killed them all, the whole family. Stuck a knife into them and pulled out their gizzards. All except Billy, who made it to hospital.'

'Who? Billy's Dad? Why?' Now she'd heard the gory story Kathryn still didn't understand. Then she remembered what Mr. Downey had told them last month. 'Was Billy's Dad worried that the pits might close?'

Jenny leant forward, so she could whisper into Kathryn's ear. 'I don't think that had anything to do with it. You know they call Mr. Wilmington Loopy Wilmington, don't you?'

Kathryn nodded, impatient to get the whole truth.

Taking a couple of step backward and looking as though she was Prime Minister Menzies or somebody very important, Jenny stood with her hands on her hips. 'He's always been crazy, but he had too much to drink and went even crazier. They've locked him up in the funny farm.'

'Oh!' Kathryn's mind began to do somersaults, imagining the Frankenstein picture she saw, where the monster chased everyone. 'Poor Billy,' she said, almost to herself.

She turned away from Jenny and went looking for Jane, promising herself when Billy came back to school she would be really nice to him.

Chapter Ten

January 1957

Streaks of perspiration trickled down Polly's back. Feeling frustrated, she pulled at the neck of her dress, trying to let some air in. It didn't work, but then she hadn't really expected it to make a difference; there wasn't the slightest breath of cool air within cooee.

The wireless report last night reported it was going to be well over a hundred today, and when she looked at the barometer hanging on a nail near the back door, she saw the weatherman was right for once. She knew it had to be the hottest day this summer. In fact, it was probably the warmest, most humid day she could remember. Even though she owned a new electric stove, she hadn't felt like baking any cakes. The family had to make do with pikelets and shop bought biscuits this weekend.

Grasping hold of the weighty Sunday Truth newspaper, she fanned her face before glancing at the clock. It was after seven. The fiery sun had vanished behind the hills to the west and yet she couldn't find any relief from this energy sapping heat.

After taking a washer from the top of the linen cupboard, she wet it under the cold tap and walked into the back bedroom where Ada lay. At least the room on the eastern side of the house stayed marginally cooler than the kitchen.

'Here Mum,' she said, wiping the damp face cloth over her mother's face and neck. 'This might help.'

'Who are you?' The twilight made the room dimmer than usual, but Polly could make out Ada's dull eyes and wrinkled face.

'Oh, Mum! Don't you know me? I'm Polly, your youngest daughter,' she said, choking back the threatening tears. How wonderful it would be to be able to talk to her mother again, to confide in her, share her thoughts, her dreams. But Polly had to be realistic. That wasn't going to happen. Her mother was getting worse: not eating, not recognising her at times. She was wetting her pants more often, and even soiling them occasionally.

'Mum, I'm going to set up some camping beds on the back concrete for us to sleep outside. It might be a little cooler.'

Ada looked at her blankly. 'I'll stay here. Bob will be back soon,' she said.

Polly screwed up her face, not sure this time if she wanted to laugh or cry. 'Okay, Mum. I'll talk to you when I've got everything ready.' She turned away and left the room, going out the back door and down the steps.

The camp stretchers were packed away in a small shed near the washhouse. After reefing them out from behind a cupboard, Polly chose four to carry one by one out onto the concrete. By the time she'd lifted the third stretcher a dragging blow grabbed at her lower belly and she doubled over with the sudden sensation. What was wrong with her? She'd always been strong enough to do all the jobs around the house. And she was needed now more than ever, because Chip wasn't home most weekends. Strange things were happening with her insides. Making time to visit the doctor was becoming more important; she knew she couldn't keep putting it off.

'Kathryn!' she called. 'I need your help.'

A frown distorting her face, Kathryn appeared in the doorway of the house. Polly refrained from chastising her. Everyone was getting cranky in this dreadful heat.

'What do you want?'

'Get some sheets and pillows to make up these stretchers and then come and help me set them up.'

Standing still for a minute, Polly stretched, trying to ease her aching back, before bending to tip one of the camp beds out of its bag onto the concrete. She began assembling it, wishing that Chip, or even one of the boys, was here to help her put the ends in.

Memories flooded her mind and despite the heat, she smiled as she worked. They used to go camping by Lake Macquarie when the boys were younger. Then they all would help put up the large tent and equipment amidst much laughter and joking. Now the tent lay rotting in the shed. There would be no more camping holidays.

Lil's husband Fred had driven Chip, Kathryn and her to the lake a few years back, but now he was too sick to drive and they'd sold their car. Maggie and Arthur always travelled to Manly for Christmas, and even though they'd recently bought a car, Polly knew there was no chance of her sister and brother-in-law transporting them away next holidays.

Polly shook her head. Why was she feeling so low? The Carpenters had enjoyed a wonderful Christmas. Even Johnny had been here, driving his new Ute from Bulli. He'd stayed a couple of days on his way back from visiting his children and had brought photos of the growing twins for his mother to keep.

Asking Chip to buy a car was out of the question. She couldn't imagine herself learning to drive. And there was no way she would ever encourage Chip to handle the responsibility. He would end up driving drunk and killing someone, possibly himself. No, the camp stretchers would only be useful to make up a bed outside, when the unbearable weather made it impossible to sleep inside.

Soon Kathryn returned with the linen, but her attempt to lend a hand putting the camping beds together wasn't successful. Complaining that her fingers weren't strong enough to do the job, Kathryn left her mother to manage the best way she could, and sat on the steps to watch.

'Here, you can make up the beds,' Polly said, once she'd got them together. 'We'll need a sheet to cover us. You know how you get eaten alive by the mossies.'

Surprisingly Kathryn did it right away with no grumbling. Polly left her to it and went to fetch her mother from inside; it was much too hot to leave her there. Ada was snoring when she entered her bedroom. Not completely sure what she should do, Polly stood looking at the old lady, Her mother was frail and vulnerable, almost a stranger, not at all like the strong, capable woman she used to be.

'Mum,' she whispered, giving Ada a gentle shake.

Her mother didn't respond. Thank goodness there were two windows in the room, one facing south, the other east. As quietly as she could Polly raised the blinds high ready to catch a breeze, if one arose. Then she pulled back the curtains attaching them to whatever she could find to keep them away from the window. It was probably futile, but a southerly could develop, bringing a revitalising reprieve from this debilitating heat.

Before leaving her mother, Polly took the face washer, wet it again, and wiped it gently over Ada's face and neck. Her mother barely stirred. Hoping she would be all right, Polly bent and kissed Ada on the cheek, before going outside.

'Kathryn, go inside, have your bath and put your shortie pyjamas on,' she said.

Smiling, Polly watched her daughter run up the steps. No doubt Kathryn felt pleased to get away in case there were any more jobs to be done. Cassie was probably right; Polly spoiled Kathryn. But it wouldn't be too long before the child became a teenager, and then an adult, faced with the duties of life. If Polly grabbed the opportunity to help her daughter enjoy a few moments of ease, there was nothing wrong with that.

Laddie's barking caught her attention; someone must be at the front gate. Polly walked around to the side of the house to see who it was. Chip was home. He rocked unsteadily, but at least he remained on his feet. Some work mates had carried him in last weekend.

'It's about time,' she called, walking up the path to meet him.

'What are you doing out here?' he said, reaching for her.

Polly moved away from him. 'I don't want any of your cuddles,' she said. 'I could have done with your help tonight. If you'd just get yourself together and spend a little more time with your family '

'Don't get cranky. You know I love you,' Chip said. 'I've got something to tell you. Where's Kathryn? It's probably better if she doesn't hear what I've got to say.'

'Come and sit down on the stretcher,' Polly said, grabbing his arm. 'I've set it up for us to sleep here. It's too hot inside. Kathryn's in there now getting ready for bed.'

They sat facing each other, knees touching. In the twilight Polly could make out dark circles under Chip's eyes. Perhaps he wasn't as drunk as she'd thought he was. Perhaps he was as worn out as she felt.

'Well, what's your news?' she said, expecting him to tell her a story about one of his work mates and some of the rowdy exploits he'd gotten up to.

'The pits are closing.'

Polly gasped. She stared at Chip, but his face seemed to dip in and out of a swirling mist. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Chip had told her something. Horrible news. It wasn't true. It couldn't be. She licked her dry lips.

'What do you mean? I thought everything was all right. You'd dealt with the mechanisation issue. I don't understand.' She started to reach for his hand, but thought better of it and folded her own tightly in her lap.

Chip looked away for a moment, the angle of the light allowing Polly to see the sorrow etched on his face. 'I trusted the miners' lodge to help us, but they can't do anything. The demand for coal has dropped worldwide and even here in Australia the steam trains are being replaced everywhere by either diesel or electric ones.'

'But what about the coal being used in our homes?' Polly knew he was wrong. Coalmines had always been in their community. Her father and his father before him had worked at the same pit where Chip went every day.

Chip gazed deep into her eyes. He seemed to be giving her a silent message, willing her to believe him 'You're clutching at straws. Be reasonable. Look at us. We got rid of our fuel stove and the copper. Don't you think everywhere in Australia and the rest of the world people are changing the way they live?'

'There's got to be more to the story. I know that the coal could be sold somewhere.'

Chip shrugged. 'I didn't want to say anymore because I knew you'd be worried about me and the boys.'

'Worried about what?' An icy hand clutched at Polly's belly, squeezing the life out of her.

'There's a creep in the mine.'

'A creep?' Chip wasn't making any sense. What on earth would a creepy bloke have to do with anything?

'The mine is stuffed,' he continued calmly. 'It's only a matter of time. That's why it's called a creep. It creeps up slowly. There's a gradual subsidence, everything's moving and disintegrating.'

'How dangerous is it?'

'No more than usual, for the time being. But the hard bastard owners will have to make sure of our safety and close down the pit before too long. They're really over a barrel. The pit is becoming too dangerous to work and the coal isn't wanted. It's almost ironic. We've been thinking that mechanisation and supply issues were going to get rid of our jobs, but the mine has to close because of safety.'

'What are we going to do?' Polly squeezed her hands together so hard they became numb. Flexing her fingers, she looked down, staring at her roughened hands. They were the hands of a worker. If she was the one who had to make the decision about closing the mine, there was no way she would give in. Sometimes she wished she were the man of the family, working in the pits; she'd give the owners a fight. 'What are we going to do?' she repeated.

Chip took her hand in his. 'It's not going to happen for a few months yet, perhaps even a year, but quite a few of the boys have already left. Some have gone into different industries in Newcastle and some have moved to Bulli, like Johnny did.'

At the mention of her son's name shudders layered through Polly's body as she fought against her pressuring emotions. She wanted to stand and scream. Let her feelings go. Behave like Cassie Burgoyne. But she bit her lip, stopping her tears. After all what good did tears do? Crying wouldn't bring her family back.

'What about the stump you've been paying into for years?' She squeezed Chip's hand, trying to make him say something positive, something that would give her hope.

'I intend to keep it up. I'll need to be in the union if I want another pit job.'

Tightening every muscle in her body, Polly leant away from Chip. 'I don't want to move,' she said. She couldn't imagine life without her neighbours and her family. What would her sisters do? She couldn't picture them moving either.

'It's not really an option. We can't buy a house before we sell this one and who would want to buy a house in a town where there's little work? Coal mining is the lifeblood of this area. You know that.'

Chip sounded so matter of fact. All their married life Polly had wanted him to be more realistic; now she didn't. She wanted him to give her hope, to tell her it was a mistake; that the jobs were safe; that there was a chance he'd been given false information. But she looked at his face and saw that he knew the truth. It was all too much to take in.

'So what are you saying? How are we going to live?' Darts of fire singed her stomach and she bent forward slightly, holding her hands over her middle, sure she was going to be sick.

'I'll get a job. There's got to be something I can do. Maybe Teddy Callaghan can help out.'

'How will he be able to help you? Won't he lose his job too?' Polly swallowed. She could hear herself – hear the silly whimpering. That wasn't how a Merthyr Vale woman behaved. But even as she argued with herself, the feeling of hopelessness was winning. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't shrug off the heavy weight pressing down on her shoulders.

'Ted has connections with other coal mines and other business owners.'

'But you haven't any skills other than as a shot-firer.' Why wasn't he listening?

'I said we'd manage.' Chip got to his feet. 'Where's Ada? Why isn't she out here with us?'

Polly grimaced. He was changing the subject, not wanting to discuss the bad news anymore. She needed to talk to someone. She needed further assurance everything was going to be all right. Talking to her mother wasn't an option. Right now she'd love to be able to talk with Lil; even speaking with Maggie might help.

'Mum's in bed,' she said. 'I'll go and check on her, but I don't think she'll be sleeping outside tonight. Chip, do you think Merthyr Vale will become a ghost town?'

'A ghost town, like Minmi?' Kathryn stood in the doorway of the house, dressed in her cotton shortie pyjamas.

'No,' Chip said, standing and walking towards his daughter. 'Your mother is having a joke. There's no chance of our town becoming like Minmi. Minmi was a large town. We're only a tiny place.'

'Dad, I don't understand what you mean. I think you're trying to trick me.' Kathryn came down the steps towards her parents. 'What's happening? Something's wrong isn't it? Mr. Downey told us last year that Merthyr Vale was going to be a ghost town.'

'Did he now? Well, sometimes your teacher mightn't be right. There's nothing for you to worry your pretty head about,' Chip said. 'Come on, get into bed.'

A sulky expression on her face, Kathryn flounced towards the makeshift bed, pulled back the sheet and shaking it vigorously up and down, lay down and immediately turned onto her stomach. 'I never get told anything important,' she muttered, before pulling the sheet over her head.

'I'll spray,' Polly said. She picked up the atomizer and began vigorously pumping the handle backwards and forwards, squirting the toxic spray around their beds.

'That's enough,' Chip said. 'You're wasting it. Nothing's going to stop the mossies out here tonight. We'll have to keep covered up.'

'I'll go and spray around Mum.' Polly needed to occupy herself. Any mundane task would do. Anything to control the trembling in her legs and hands.

Tears began to trickle down her face as she climbed the steps into the house. She'd never felt so desperately alone in all her life. Her family, her kids, her sisters were supposed to stay close. They were her life. What was going to happen? How would she survive these changes? Phillips women were strong, but this was too much for anyone to cope with. She took a deep breath, wiped her face with the back of her hand and went into her mother's room.

Chapter Eleven

February 1957

'I've arranged for Bobby and Charlie to come over at two to help out for a couple of hours,' Dad said. He sat at the dining room table, having a second cup of tea.

Glancing at the clock, Kathryn saw it was only a few minutes before two o'clock. She waited for her mother to answer, because she had no idea what Dad was talking about. Mum seemed to be in a really good mood. Kathryn knew it was because Dad had come home for a roast beef lunch, instead of going to the Golf Club with his mates, although today she'd wished they'd had a lovely, cold salad. No matter how sweltering hot it became in the house, they nearly always had a baked dinner for Sunday lunch.

She heard Dad say it was too muggy outside to do much gardening. Usually on Sunday, her father spent hours in the yard, digging, pruning and planting. His work boots standing near the back door told Kathryn that whatever he'd been doing, he wasn't quite finished. Once the weather cooled, she suspected he'd be outside watering the drooping plants.

'I wish the baby and the girls could come over,' Mum said, as she cleared away the last of the dishes from the home preserved peaches and custard they'd eaten for dessert.

'You know that's not a good idea, not with what we're going to do today.' Dad took out his tobacco and began to roll a smoke.

'What's going on?' Kathryn looked from her mother to her father and back again. She understood that they didn't like her to interrupt their conversation too much. She'd heard Mum say to Mrs. Burgoyne "children should be seen and not heard". But sometimes, Kathryn became too curious to wait for her parents to let her know what they were up to. Being quiet and listening in often worked, but today she didn't have a clue what was happening.

'We're getting the sewer on soon,' Mum said. 'Your brothers are going to help your father get the foundation down for a new toilet closer to the house.'

'But I could have looked after little Mervyn. You know I love to play with him. And Rachel and Jill could have helped.' Disappointed, Kathryn frowned at her mother. She wasn't game enough to let Dad know how unhappy she felt so she didn't look in his direction. Sometimes her sisters - in - law Jill and Rachel would bring over some nail polish and hair clips to paint her nails and fuss with her hair, and Kathryn would have loved that.

'Apparently the dunny carter fell sick last Friday and we missed getting a new pan. We'll have to empty it because it's too full to wait till Monday or Tuesday for a special delivery,' Mum explained, before moving to the kitchen to start washing the lunch dishes.

'It won't be pleasant for anyone to be around, especially little Mervyn,' Dad said.

'Oh.' Now Kathryn understood. Since yesterday she'd not wanted to go to the dunny at all, because it was horrible, full right to the top. She'd been scared that when she went it might overflow onto her feet. Not wanting to chance that it might happen, she'd spent as little time as possible in the dunny. Although she didn't like the creamy liquid, she'd have to ask Mum to give her some Agarol tonight, because she was constipated.

'I can hear the boys now,' Dad said, getting up from the table. 'I'd better organise a couple of picks and shovels.

Kathryn had been about to ask if she could go to Jane's, but what was happening at home looked as though it was going to be more interesting. She ran to the back door.

'Bobby! Charlie!' she called out, waving to her brothers.

They were heading down the backyard, but they turned to give her a brief wave. Obviously what they were going to do with Dad was more important than talking to her. Neither Bobby, her oldest, nor Charlie, her youngest brother, was as good-looking as Johnny, but Kathryn was fond of all her brothers.

When Bobby lived at home he would listen to the radio with her of an evening, laughing at the antics of Greenbottle in her favourite Yes What? And Charlie would sometimes take her out to special things. Once he'd taken her to the circus and twice he'd taken her to the local Show, going on the Ferris Wheel with her. Now that they were married, she didn't get to see her brothers very often. Not as often as she'd like.

'Kathryn, the dishes need doing,' Mum said. 'I've got a bit of catch up mending to do and then I'm going to cut Nana's nails.'

Nodding her agreement, Kathryn quickly began to dry the dishes and pack them away so she would be able to position herself near the back window to see what was going on. Already her father and brothers had started digging a hole behind the onion garden. The men took off their shirts exposing their sun-bronzed bodies.

Kathryn didn't blame them one bit for taking their clothes off. She wished she could. It was excruciatingly hot again today. A shimmering haze rose from the concrete slab between the back steps and the washhouse creating a thickness in the air that seemed to press down on Kathryn's head. She was glad she didn't have to help.

'Ok, let's do it,' she heard her father say.

The three men moved towards the dunny and came out carrying the dunny can. Kathryn put one hand over her nose as she searched for a handkerchief in the pocket of her shorts. This was a more rotten pong than the girls' lav at school.

Clunk! The screen door bashed against the doorjamb and Laddie began to whimper. Kathryn opened the door and was almost knocked over as Laddie scrabbled past towards the front room. He must have been heading under her mother's bed again.

Kathryn always thought Laddie was running away from the dunny cart because he was frightened of it – or the dunny man. She'd been awakened one morning and had seen the dunny man. He looked really strange in the dawn light, wearing a cape and helmet shaped hat, both made out of heavy leather. Because he reminded her of the scary monster from the Frankenstein picture, she'd kept her distance from him ever since. Now she didn't know if Laddie had escaped because he hated the ghastly smell as much as she did, or the smell reminded him of the terrifying dunny man. She giggled. No wonder Laddie was so special.

Her father and brothers grabbed hold of the sides of the black can and began to tip it over. Thick dark brown liquid poured out into the hole. This was worse than anything Kathryn had ever seen. But for some reason, she didn't want to leave. It was fascinating, watching what the men were doing. Kathryn knew Dad put manure around his plants so she supposed that having family pooh on them should be the same, but she didn't think she would ever want to eat onions from that garden again.

Fumes wafting up from the backyard threatened to choke her and Kathryn began to cough. 'Wow, you should smell this!' she called to her mother. 'Why is it so stinky?'

'It's because it's in the open air and it's so hot today,' her mother said. 'Why don't you come away in here till they're finished? It's not so bad in here.'

'No, it's okay. I want to see what they're doing.'

Kathryn only turned her head away for a few seconds, but when she looked towards the backyard again she saw her brother Bobby fall to the ground. Pushing her fist into her mouth, she bit down on her knuckles. Perhaps Bobby had died from being so close to that hideous smell. Maybe he'd held his breath too long.

For a long moment she stared at her brother, lying so still on the ground. The men in her family were standing, looking down at Bobby, not doing anything. Mum would know what to do.

'Mum! Come quickly! Something's happened to Bobby,' Kathryn yelled.

Mum hurried from the dining room where she'd been sewing, followed by Nana.

'What's happened?' she called out to the men as she hurried down the back steps.

Ready to follow her mother, Kathryn stood in the doorway. But the horrible smell seemed to be seeping into her clothes and up her nostrils into her head. Knowing she wouldn't be able to stand going outside, closer to the terrible stench, Kathryn took a couple of steps backwards and bumped into Nana.

'Let's watch through the window,' she said to her grandmother.

Dividing the sheer café style curtains, they leaned forward over the sink to get a better view of what was taking place.

'Dad and Charlie are laughing,' Kathryn said to herself. She thought at first she must have been imagining it, because she couldn't understand why they would be laughing.

'They're probably drunk.' Nana must have heard what she'd said.

'No, they're not, Nana.' Kathryn shook her head, but she wasn't sure, because they were acting so strangely. She knew men were different, but how could they laugh when something dreadful had happened to her oldest brother? Then she noticed something even stranger – her mother was laughing too.

Moving as close to the back door as she dared, Kathryn called out, 'What's happened to Bobby?'

Her father seemed to have more control than the others did. He bent down and helped Bobby to his feet. Even from this distance, Kathryn could see that Bobby's face was white. Then Charlie turned towards the house, shaking his head as he spoke.

'Bob's all right. He's a soft bastard. Can't deal with shit. He fainted.'

*********************************************************************

'Mum, can I go over to Jane's?' Kathryn called. 'We might go for a bike ride.'

Now the men had sorted out the back dunny, they were mixing concrete and sawing wood to make the new outside toilet floor. It wasn't interesting to watch anymore, and Kathryn felt bored. As soon as her mother gave her permission, combined with a warning to not overdo it in the heat, Kathryn wheeled out her bike from the back shed. She'd gotten it for Christmas and liked to practice her riding, as she was still a bit wobbly.

'You go carefully,' Dad said, looking up from his sawing.

Kathryn smiled and waved to Charlie and Bobby, who were measuring a space between the washhouse and the small tool shed, before pushing her bike down to the back gate. There she mounted it and rode the twenty yards to Jane's back gate, where her friend waited under the shade of their huge peppercorn tree, her bike leaning against her.

'How did you know I was coming over?' Kathryn asked.

'I didn't. I was on my way to your place to see if you wanted to go to Old Mr. Payne's dam for a swim.'

'I haven't brought my swimmers.'

'Neither have I. I haven't brought a towel either. It's too hot to carry anything. There'll be no one there. We can go in the water in our undies. It's so hot this arvo that they'll dry before we come home.'

'Okay,' Kathryn said doubtfully. She wasn't too sure about this. Jane was skinny and didn't have any bumps growing out front yet. It was different for Kathryn now. She had to keep herself private.

They headed down the lane. Most of the backyards they passed looked quiet and vacant, though when they got to the house on the corner, they could hear some splashing and laughing. Kathryn took a quick peek and saw small children enjoying spraying water on each other with a garden hose. Cooling down in some water was definitely worth looking forward to. If they'd stayed at home, Kathryn would have asked her mother could she and Jane squirt each other with the hose. It would have been fun, but not as much as what they planned.

Pedalling slowly, they rode on the footpath for a few blocks, before turning left and pushing up the hill into Newcastle Street. The houses there seemed smaller than in Rosemund Street where they lived. Kathryn didn't know anyone in this part of town. Perhaps the girls who lived here attended the Catholic school near the Catholic Church about a half a mile further on.

Puffing hard as she weaved her way up the steep incline, Kathryn decided she would walk the rest of the way. Her face felt hot and she knew it must be bright red, so she jumped off her bike and began to push it.

'Where's the path to go behind the houses?' she called to Jane who rode ahead.

'What have you stopped for?' Jane dismounted and turned to her. She was frowning and Kathryn didn't like it. Jane could ride much better than Kathryn could, because she'd had more practice. Her bike had been handed down from Doreen ages ago.

'We're almost at the path, aren't we?'

'You should know where it is,' Jane said. 'It's up there, past the yellow house.' She pointed ahead to her left. 'Golly, it's hot. I can't wait to get there.'

Thoughts of cool water on her body were wonderful and Kathryn pushed her bike faster. By this time the heat became so uncomfortable that letting her bare chest be seen by anyone wasn't so important, and she'd put it in the back of her mind. Jane wouldn't laugh at her or call her "tits wobble". She probably wouldn't even notice that Kathryn had breasts. It wasn't as if they had grown big like Diana Dors' had.

The blonde film star had been in a magazine last week. When she'd first seen the star's huge bust Kathryn felt embarrassed, especially as it looked like Diana Dors' dress was too small for her. Kathryn couldn't understand why someone who was so rich didn't buy clothes that fitted properly. Only last week her mother had bought her new things because "she was growing into a woman". That was what Mum had said. Oh golly, if growing big breasts like Diana Dors was going to happen to her, she hoped that Mum would buy her a lot of new clothes. There was no way she wanted to have everyone looking at her bare chest popping over the front of her clothes.

It became too hard to manoeuvre their bikes along the overgrown pathway, so they left them against the back fence of the yellow house and proceeded on foot, stamping hard on the ground in case there were any snakes around. Dad told her snakes were scared of people. Dad knew about most things, so Kathryn always made as much noise as she could when she went near long grass in the summer. Although she always kept her eyes glued to the ground, in case he wasn't right and the snakes attacked them.

'There's Old Mr. Payne's house,' Jane whispered, pointing to the dilapidated building about one hundred yards away.

Old Mr. Payne's house wasn't really a house. It was more of a shed – a falling down shed. Neither the shed nor the roof looked as though it had ever been painted and everything seemed a greyish-brown: the walls, the roof and the broken guttering. The dam stood on the outer edge of the old man's property, on the other side of a small rise.

All the kids in Merthyr Vale swam there from time to time, but Kathryn knew they always kept an eye out for Old Mr. Payne. He didn't like anyone coming onto his property, but he was usually drunk and asleep, or so the other kids said.

Skirting around outside the fence, Jane and Kathryn kept their eyes focussed on Old Mr. Payne's home. They needed to get past the door of the shed in case Mr Payne came outside. And they also needed to find the best place to get through the barbed wire. Even if the thought of the cool water was appealing, getting to it was becoming heaps of trouble, and Kathryn started to wish she had opted for getting under the hose in the backyard.

'Listen!' Jane grabbed Kathryn's arm. 'I know that voice. It's Kevin!'

'Now what are we going to do? We can't go in the water if the boys are there.'

Jane smiled. 'We can climb through and have a look at them, can't we? Maybe they won't mind if we go in swimming too.'

Her heart beating faster, Kathryn nodded her agreement. She could keep her shorts and blouse on to go in. They covered up as much as her swimmers did. 'I'll put my foot on the barbed wire and you can climb through first, then hold it for me,' she said.

They found a place where the boys must have gone through. The wire sagged a little and they managed without scratching themselves. Crouching forward, they moved slowly towards the dam, not wanting the boys to see them until they found out what was going on. Excited yells from the boys seemed to be getting louder, so Jane and Kathryn lay flat on the ground on a small rise poking their heads over to see what they could,

'They're in the nuddy!' Kathryn exclaimed. At first she was shocked; then she thought about it. She shouldn't be upset. The boys hadn't known that she and Jane were planning to swim there. And the two girls had been prepared to go swimming in their underpants.

'C'mon. We can go in. They look like they're having lots of fun,' Jane said. There were four boys. They had a rope secured to a tree and were swinging out on it and landing in the water.

'No!' Kathryn said a little too loudly. She recognised Kevin and David. Surprised to see what they looked like without any clothes, she didn't even glance at the other boys. And she wasn't going to look too closely to try to find out who the others were. It was bad enough knowing she'd have to face David and Kevin at school tomorrow.

'The boys are coming over to us,' Jane said, getting to her feet. 'They heard you.'

'Well, I'm not staying here to see their willies up close.' Kathryn stood facing Jane, her hands on her hips.

The boys seemed to have changed their minds about coming towards them. Shouting out Tarzan like whoops, they began to do an Indian dance, stomping their feet and jogging around in a circle as they patted their mouths and moved their bodies backwards and forwards, mimicking the Red Indians.

Realisation hit Kathryn like a freezing dunk in cold water. They were performing some kind of mating dance she saw at the pictures last week. Before the Indians hoisted the women over their shoulders and carried them off to their wigwams they danced around a fire, screaming and working themselves into a frenzy, almost exactly as the boys were doing now.

She didn't think she'd been so hot and bothered in all her life, not since Kevin chased her home and forced her to go into the girls' lav to escape from him. Jamming her knuckles into her mouth, she watched, fascinated by the boys' energy.

Bang! A loud noise echoed around them.

Kathryn's stomach lurched. 'What was that?'

'It's a shotgun. You should know that,' Jane said. 'It must be Old Mr. Payne. He's awake.'

Jane's voice sounded calm, but Kathryn could see that the colour had drained from her friend's face. Kathryn became terrified Jane would faint. How could she carry her friend, even if she was skinny, escape from the boys, and stop Mr. Payne from killing them, all at the same time? Looking back towards the dam, she saw the boys had disappeared. They must have come in a different way from them.

Then she saw Old Mr. Payne. Dressed entirely in grey, he looked as scary as one of the mummies they'd seen in a Fatty and Skinny picture last month. He wasn't staggering as Dad did sometimes when he was drunk, but he had a funny, stiff-legged walk. He looked really mean, especially because he was carrying a huge gun and pointing it in the air.

'We're going to get murdered.' Surprised at how matter-of-fact her own voice sounded, Kathryn ran towards the fence. Jane was a faster runner and she easily overtook her.

'Wait for me!' Kathryn called, this time in a panicked voice, but Jane, her best friend, took no notice. If she hadn't been so terrified, Kathryn would have told Jane right there and then, that she wasn't her best friend anymore.

The barbed wire wouldn't come apart as easily as it had before. Jane seemed to be grabbing hold of the wrong part and Kathryn gritted her teeth.

'Stop pulling it that way,' Kathryn hissed. 'We'll never get through, before he kills us.'

Ignoring Kathryn, Jane put her foot on the wire and scrambled through, leaving Kathryn on the inside, sure she was going to be shot.

'Hurry up,' Jane urged, standing safely on the other side of the fence.

Kathryn wanted to kick her friend. She was going as fast as she could, but there didn't seem to be enough room for her to get through. 'Push your foot down harder on the bottom wire,' she said. 'I need a bigger space.'

Bang! The gun went off again.

A bigger space didn't seem as important now. Diving through the hole Jane had made, Kathryn caught the sleeve of her blouse on the barbed wire. Being saved from certain death was more important than her favourite poplin top. The sleeve tore apart as she wrenched free, and somehow she went too close to the nasty rusty wire and gashed her arm.

'Shit! What will Mum say?' Kathryn twisted her arm to have a better look. There was no blood dripping down just a red mark.

'It doesn't matter. You've got plenty of clothes,' Jane said. 'You know what. I don't think Old Mr. Payne is trying to kill us. He's shooting in the air.'

'I'm not stopping to find out,' Kathryn said, running towards her bike. 'And I don't care how hot it is, I'm not going to go to the dam again.'

Jane didn't answer, and they retrieved their bikes and began pedalling back home. It was easier now, downhill most of the way. Travelling in silence gave Kathryn time to think about today. She would tell her mother she'd torn her blouse when she fell off her bike. Just in case there were germs in the barbed wire, she'd put some of the Solyptol that Mum kept in the bathroom on her arm. There was no way she'd tell her she'd seen the boys in the nuddy, or that Old Mr. Payne had shot his gun in the air. She could get into lots of trouble.

What about the boys? Had they been planning to carry her and Jane off? And what would they have done with them? It was all too confusing. She hadn't made her mind up choosing between Kevin and David, and today hadn't helped, because now she wasn't sure she wanted anything to do with either of them

Chapter Twelve

March 1957

'Mum, we're going to have a bit of a singsong around the piano tonight. It'll be like old times. You'd like that, wouldn't you?' Polly bent down and touched her mother's arm, hoping for a positive response, any sign at all of Ada's interest. Nothing. They'd finished their evening meal and Polly had been so busy hurrying around she'd barely spoken to her mother, who sat at the table, staring vacantly into space.

'I'm cold,' the old woman complained, shivering as she spoke.

Polly shook her head, almost in disbelief. It had been a lovely autumn day, the temperature quite mild. Even now, as the sun's rays disappeared below the horizon, the house felt cosy. She relished the experience, especially so soon after the draining humidity of a sizzling hot summer.

'I'll get you a cardigan,' she said.

'I'm tired. I'll go to bed.' Ada struggled to her feet and Polly grabbed her arm to steady her.

Polly frowned. She'd been hoping her mother would enjoy the family occasion; that it might stimulate her memory and bring back happy times. But she had to push her disappointment aside, not having time to dillydally with her mother. Her sons and their wives had promised to have an early meal and come over soon. Chip and Kathryn already waited in the lounge room sorting through her music and putting things out of reach of Mervyn.

She helped Ada into her bedroom and into her nightclothes. 'There Mum, try to have a good night's rest. We might make a bit of noise with our singing.'

'Where's Bob?' With her forehead deeply etched with worry lines, Ada looked well past her age of eighty-one. 'Why isn't he here? Is he shagging another woman?'

Polly bit her lip. She didn't want to say the wrong thing and upset her mother so she chose to ignore her. Ada being so sure that her husband remained alive was exasperating. Sometimes Polly wanted to shake her mother to try to bring her back to her senses. If only it was that simple.

After pulling back the bed coverings, Polly helped her mother into bed, noting how frail Ada had become. Even though Polly offered food every day, making a special effort to present some of Ada's favourite dishes, her mother seemed to be losing weight at an alarming rate every week.

'Where's Bob?' Ada repeated. 'Has he got a fancy piece?'

Polly sighed. She'd hoped her mother had forgotten what she'd asked. 'No, Mum,' she answered, tucking the blankets around her mother's shoulders. 'Dad is working late tonight. Don't you remember?'

'I think my mind is going. I can't remember.'

'Oh, Mum!' Anguished at her mother's suffering, whether real or imagined, Polly bent down to kiss Ada's forehead. 'Can I get you anything?'

It had been a rhetorical question, but Ada surprised her. 'A hot water bottle.'

'Hell's bells!' Polly muttered, hurrying into the kitchen to put the electric jug on, so she could fill the hot water bottle. She wanted to have everything ready when the kids got there, but every day her mother seemed to need more time and extra attention. It seemed as though Polly had a young baby in the house again, but more demanding.

The jug took forever and gave Polly time to think. She'd been putting her mother's forgetfulness down to old age, but she was beginning to wonder if there might be something she could do. Perhaps Dr. Ramage would have some medicine or advice he could give her. Lost in her thoughts, she started when her son Bobby tapped on the back window and interrupted her.

'Mervyn's here to see his Grandma,' he said, opening the screen door.

'Oh, my darling little boy,' Polly said, taking the chubby eleven month old child from her son and into her arms. Being held obviously wasn't what Mervyn wanted. He began to squirm, twisting his body away from her grasp.

'He's started walking,' her daughter-in-law Rachel said, as Bobby hoisted his son from Polly's arms and deposited him on the floor. 'He likes to show off.'

Mervyn obliged, tottering from the kitchen into the dining room.

'Where did he get that hat?' Polly said, laughing with delight as she spoke.

With a Davy Crockett hat perched precariously on his head, the toddler looked as cute as a button. Since the picture had been on at the Roxy quite a few of the boys, wanting to look like Fess Parker, sported the fur hats. But Polly hadn't seen a boy as young as her grandson with one on. And the sight of the short boy with a large cap, complete with tail, hanging down to his waist amused her so much all her worries and concerns seemed to wash away. Children were such a tonic.

Rachel laughed. 'Bobby wanted him to have one and be like one of the older boys. We couldn't find any in the shops to fit him, so Mum cut up her old fur coat and made it for him. He loves it.'

'He's going to be a handful,' Polly said. 'I've had three of them, and if he's anything at all like his father, he'll climb anything.'

'You're right.' Rachel put a plate of fairy cakes on the cupboard as she spoke. 'I'd better follow him. He's already started climbing and he's likely to pull down everything in sight.'

Polly fondly watched the young woman chasing Mervyn up the hallway. It was so good to have her family around again, even if Johnny and his kids would be missing. She sent presents in the mail for the twins when they turned three last month, but had received no word from Betty to acknowledge they'd obtained the gifts. Still, it was wonderful to have at least one grandchild to fuss over.

'Where's Nana? Is she in the front room?' Bobby asked.

Pointing towards the back bedroom, Polly shook her head. Now wasn't the time to go into her mother's health problems. 'She's not joining us tonight. I'm afraid if you want to talk to your Nana you need to come over in the middle of the day. She's likely to be asleep then, but at least you can wake her. Come on. We'll all go into the lounge room.'

'How have you been, Mum?' Bobby asked as they started to walk together, through the dining room and into the short hallway, leading into the living room.

'Fit as a fiddle.' Polly felt tired, the most exhausted she'd ever felt, but there was no way she would admit that, not to her son.

Bobby stopped to gaze into her eyes. 'And Dad? Has he accepted that Johnny won't be back?'

Polly shrugged. 'You know your dad. He keeps his feelings bottled up. But aren't most men the same?'

'Mum, I'm not sure you're telling me everything, but I'm not going to push you. Tonight we're going to have some fun. We haven't had a family get together for quite a while.'

Relieved that Bobby hadn't probed too deeply, Polly gently pushed her son forward. 'Charlie and Jill should be here soon. Chip's already got some beer and lemonade ready to wet our tonsils. Let's practice before the others get here. What about Galway Bay? Or I bought some new ones last month. Oh Yes, I'm The Great Pretender and Heartbreak Hotel.'

'Mum! Don't tell me you're an Elvis fan!' Bobby draped his arm around his mother's shoulder. 'You'll have us all swivelling our hips soon.'

They entered the lounge room where Kathryn and Chip already were playing with Mervyn while Rachel watched on, a contented expression shining from her face.

'I've done a bit of dancing in my time,' Polly said to her son. 'I could do the Charleston with the best of them, and I managed a few good moves with the Jitterbug. I'm not sure about the Rock and Roll stuff, but I bet I could give it a go.'

'I could bring over my record player and test you out,' Bobby said, winking at his mother.

Polly smiled, choosing to ignore him. 'Come on, I'll play Hokey Pokey first. It'll give Mervyn a chance to have some fun before he has to go to sleep.'

'What do you mean, Mervyn?' Chip said. 'You know you abso-bloody-lutely love entertaining the kids. You'll have more fun than anyone in this room or my name isn't Jim Carpenter.'

'But it's not Jim Carpenter,' Kathryn blurted out. 'Everyone calls you Chip.'

The rest of the family started laughing. As soon as Polly noticed Kathryn's face turning bright red she opened the piano, adjusted the stool and began playing. That should help to ease her daughter's embarrassment.

Chip was right. Polly loved music, especially when there was someone to enjoy it with her. Soon Mervyn squealed with delight as his father and mother took turns to twirl him around the room.

'Sounds like the Carpenters are celebrating tonight,' Charlie said. He stood in the doorway, his arm around his wife Jill's tiny waist. 'I called out but you were making too much noise.'

'Jill!' Kathryn called, running to give her sister-in-law a hug.

After turning around on the stool, Polly welcomed them, pausing for a moment to observe her loved ones as they greeted one another. They were a pretty good-looking bunch. Although the three men, Chip, Bobby and Charlie weren't tall, they were all wiry and strong. Chip kept himself in remarkably good physical condition despite his drinking.

Rachel couldn't be considered traditionally pretty with her slightly long face and hooked nose, but her inner beauty shone through. She had the ability to help people relax and seemed to be able to see the good in every situation. Bobby was fortunate to have found her.

With her long black hair pulled back into a fashionable ponytail, Jill displayed the radiance of a new bride. Only twenty years of age, she was tiny, the same height as Kathryn, who now clung to her arm affectionately. The passing months and years would show if Charlie had made a reliable match, but Polly felt confident that her youngest son had made a good choice as well.

Polly watched her daughter enjoying the company. No longer a child, Kathryn hovered in the awkward stage, not quite sure if she wanted to be a woman or not. At the moment she was intent on examining Jill's painted fingernails.

Painted fingernails were a luxury. Polly gave up on them years ago. Her hands continued to be rough and work stained. But her daughter would have to learn. Jill had time to paint her nails, with only Charlie to look after. And she had enough money to spend on luxuries such as manicures as she still worked in the local shoe factory.

'What would you like to sing?' Polly called out, getting their attention. They were here to have a good time and she certainly intended to have one.

'What about Roll out The Barrel?'

'No, play Napoleon's Last Charge.'

Polly smiled, delighted at the requests. Soon her fingers were tripping over the keys as she began with the arpeggio she rarely performed anymore. Knowing the family only liked to hear the bits they were familiar with, she cut the classical music short and started playing some of the songs they all knew and could sing along with. An hour passed before she stopped for a rest.

'Mum, come and join us for a drink,' Charlie said, handing her a glass of lemonade.

'Thanks, love. I see Mervyn has gone to sleep. Is that because of my piano playing or your singing?' No one answered her question and Polly moved off the piano stool and sat in a large lounge chair with Charlie perched on the arm and Kathryn at her feet. She hadn't felt this happy since Christmas, when they'd all been together: except for Johnny's twins, of course.

Looking over at little Mervyn lying there, made goose bumps run up her arms. It was a feeling of pure joy, knowing her offspring seemed so happy. Why, oh why, couldn't Betty have stayed here? The family would have been complete. Johnny could have found work in Newcastle at one of the industries. Surely Betty could have agreed to something. There had to be a workable solution. Anything was better than families breaking up.

'Now we're all together, Rachel and me, we've got something to tell you,' Bobby said. He was seated on the floral three-seater lounge, Rachel at his side and Mervyn on his lap.

A shiver, full of premonition, skittered up Polly's spine. Forcing a smile to her face, she looked at Bobby and Rachel who sat holding hands. It seemed to her they were giving each other strength. She could have been imagining it, but she didn't think so. Something unpleasant was about to be revealed.

'Are we going to have another Carpenter to join our family?' she asked. Even as she spoke, she knew she was fooling herself, One look at their serious faces confirmed the dark feeling now lying cold in her belly.

'No Mum, we're moving down the South Coast. Johnny has managed to find me a job and a house for us to rent until we can buy one.'

Without making a sound, Chip picked up a half empty beer bottle and left the room.

'Let him go,' Polly said, reaching up to grasp Charlie's arm and preventing him from following his father. 'He'll have to accept that our family is moving away. We all have to.'

The final words came out of her mouth in a sort of high-pitched whine as she stopped herself from dissolving into tears. Clenching her teeth, Polly summoned up her inner grit. This was hard on Bobby and Rachel too. Tears were useless. She was not going to fall apart.

'When?' she asked as brightly as she could.

'Two weeks. I wish we didn't have to go, but at least we'll be able to keep close to Johnny,' Rachel said.

'What about Nana's house?' Polly asked.

Bobby and Rachel moved into the Phillips home when Polly took her mother in less than a year ago. Young Mervyn was only a few weeks old and Bobby and Rachel needed to vacate the tiny flat they rented. It all worked out well at the time.

'I spoke to Johnny's former neighbour, Mrs. Chandler, the other day. Apparently her husband is retiring in a few months and there's a new married teacher coming from out of town. Mrs. Chandler said she'd let them know that the house is available to rent. She said the family may hold off till they see what is going to happen with the mines, but they may want to buy Nana's house eventually.'

'Oh.' Polly wasn't sure if that was good news or not.

Her mother's house had been in the family ever since she could remember. She'd been born in the front bedroom nearly forty - eight years ago, as had her older sisters Maggie and Lil. But she needed to be realistic. There was no way her mother would ever be able to go back to her own home to live.

Trying hard to not sound desperate, she turned to her youngest son who remained by her side. 'Charlie, please tell me now. Are you and Jill planning to move?'

'I've been looking at my options,' Charlie said. 'I'll keep on at the mine till it closes or I get sacked. Meanwhile, I'm joining the ambulance classes to see whether I'm any good at first aid and then I will do training to become an ambulance officer.'

'What if you don't like it?'

Placing his hand on her arm, Charlie tried to offer some comfort. 'Don't worry, Mum. I'm pretty sure I will. I have some other jobs I'm considering if it doesn't work out. The main concern is that Jill will have to keep working till I'm qualified.'

Polly looked over at Jill who had been doting on little Mervyn all evening. As long as Jill didn't fall pregnant, then she and Charlie would be fine. Of course, there were other considerations. What if the shoe factory closed? She pushed that thought aside. Although many families had moved out, there were others that remained, finding work in the vicinity. Even if the worst happened, Jill was confident and attractive; she would be able to find work somewhere.

Sighing, Polly straightened her back. Things could be blacker, a lot blacker. At least there would be some Carpenters left in Merthyr Vale to carry on the family tradition she and Chip started almost thirty years ago. She'd been so sure they'd put down roots, that this would be their family environment forever. Well, now it was up to Charlie to keep the family line going, even Kathryn could play a part, though not with the Carpenter name.

'Does anyone know how long we've got before the mines close?' Polly knew the question was useless, but she needed to say it, to put her worst fears into words.

'No, Mum, I don't,' Bobby said. 'What I do know is that there's only half the work force still working the mines. I think it's only a matter of weeks, maybe a couple of months.'

No wonder Chip seemed so moody and withdrawn. He didn't want to lose his sons, but he also must be worried sick about how he was going to keep his immediate family above water. Even buying food and clothing for a growing Kathryn was demanding. And they had her mother to look after. The dole was available, but she couldn't imagine Chip ever signing up for it.

Maybe she could consider taking in washing or ironing. There were always some professional people who could afford to pay to have their household duties done. Before that thought took hold she realised it wasn't feasible. She found it hard to cope with her mother now, and Ada was getting worse. Besides, Chip was too proud to let her go to work. Bringing in income was a man's responsibility.

Dragging herself out of the depths of worrying thoughts, Polly looked around the room to find each family member watching her, waiting for her to speak.

She touched her youngest son on his leg. 'Charlie, I think your father has had enough time to do his drinking and thinking. He's probably in the front garden. Why don't you go and get him and we'll sing Auld Lang Syne together?'

'It's not New Year's Eve,' Kathryn said, getting to her feet.

'No, sweetheart, it's not.' Polly pushed herself up out of the chair to put her arm around Kathryn's shoulder. 'But sometimes it's a good song to sing when you are going to miss someone.' Polly heard the catch in her voice and knew she needed to cheer up. 'Then we have a delicious spread of cakes and slices in the kitchen we have to eat. I'm certainly not planning to finish them off myself and put on too much weight.'

What a lot of nonsense she was allowing to spill from her mouth! Food was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. Leaning over the piano stool, she lifted the lid of the seat and began searching for the music she needed. Then, when she began playing with her back to the family, no one would notice if a tear or two slipped out. It was important to have a good night tonight. Years might pass before she got the chance to see her family together again.

*********************************************************************

'It's been a fun night, Mum. We'll have to do it again, even if it's only with Jill and me,' Charlie said, before bending down to kiss his mother's cheek.

'Maybe I'll invite Cassie and Roy over,' Polly said, and had to smile at her son's expression of mock horror.

Bobby and Rachel had left earlier, saying their good-byes and promising to come to see them again before they left the area. In typical Carpenter manner, there'd been no tears. Even Chip had kept himself under control. But then, he hadn't guzzled a lot of beer tonight. Just enough to keep him singing, not enough to make him start crying. Thank God for small mercies, Polly thought. Because if Chip started she was frightened she wouldn't have been able to stop herself from doing the same, and tears could flow for days. She could feel the lump where they were bottled at the base of her throat.

'I'll walk you to the door,' she said, before turning to her yawning daughter. 'Kathryn, it's way past your bedtime. Hop into bed and I'll come and see you in a minute. Remember to brush your teeth.'

'I'll go see them off,' Chip said. 'Then I'll lock up at the front if you want to check the back door.'

Polly nodded. Obviously Chip needed to spend every minute he could with his sons. Because it wouldn't be long before there would be little contact with any of them. Even if Charlie stayed in Merthyr Vale he would be working in a different industry, probably doing shifts. The closeness they enjoyed as a family was slipping away.

Oh God, why did life have to be like this? Just when she thought everything was getting better, something horrible happened. Did some kind of celestial joker sit up there in the heavens waiting to see what he could do to upset their stability?

She'd finally convinced Maggie to come over once a fortnight to give her a break from looking after their mother. A routine had developed, something Polly could get used to. She would have had time to visit with her grandchildren, go to special events at Kathryn's school, and go clothes shopping. Now, there would be no grandchildren around for her to visit. She shrugged. She should be grateful for what she had. As Chip would say, there is always someone out there worse off than us.

Before going to the kitchen, Polly stopped to check on Kathryn. Curled in a ball around a teddy bear she'd had since she was a baby, she was already asleep. Wondering if the cuddling of the toy was significant, Polly stood for a moment gazing at her daughter. Was Kathryn concerned about the family separating? Somehow Polly doubted it. Kathryn seemed to accept whatever happened. Phillips blood definitely ran through her veins.

Thankful that Kathryn didn't seem to be grieving over the coming family break-up, Polly gathered a small pile of discarded clothes from her daughter's bedroom floor, taking them into the bathroom to place them in the clothes hamper, before heading towards the kitchen.

Polly heard Chip come back into the house and lock the front door. Picking up the keys from the top of the cupboard, she noticed the hot water bottle sitting there where she'd left it hours ago.

'I won't be long,' she called to Chip. "I'll just check on Mum.'

With guilt gnawing at her insides, Polly switched the jug back on. How could she have forgotten her mother's simple request? It would have taken so little time to fill the hot water bottle and offer her mother some comfort. God knows, Ada didn't get much enjoyment from her life anymore.

Realising she was probably wasting her time, Polly turned the jug off. It had been at least five hours since her mother had asked for a hot water bottle. Surely she would have warmed up under the blankets by now; it was a balmy night. The best thing to do was to go and feel her mother, to make sure she wasn't cold, so Polly tiptoed into the bedroom.

Not wanting to turn on the light and disturb Ada who slept silently, Polly gently raised the blinds. Moonlight shone through, creating a shadowy glow, enough for her to see what she was doing. Polly had to smile. She'd been worrying about nothing, reprimanding herself for being a neglectful daughter. Her mother's face reflected an almost serene expression. She'd probably been dreaming about Dad.

Bending down over the bed, Polly touched her mother's arm. It was icy. Panic ripped at her belly. She reefed back the blankets and touched her mother's leg. It was cold too. She knew enough first aid to know where to feel for the pulse. Her fingers shaking, Polly pressed onto her mother's throat.

'Oh God, Jesus, please help me!'

Then she heard someone screaming. It was a woman. Why couldn't the silly woman shut up? It took her a few interminable seconds to realise it was her own voice she could hear before she fell into a heap on the floor.

Chapter Thirteen

March 1957

Johnny came home for Nana's funeral. Kathryn was happy to have her brother back in his old bedroom for a few days. She felt especially pleased she didn't have to sleep out there. Nana had died in that bed three days ago. Somehow, even though Mum had changed the sheets, the thought of sleeping in the bed where Nana died remained scary. Poor Mum. She'd found Nana and cried a lot the next day. It made Kathryn feel better when she'd been able to cry too. She already missed having Nana around.

Although everyone seemed a bit sad that Nana had died, Mum cooked a lot of cakes and laughed more than she had for a while. Kathryn guessed it was because Mum now had all her children around her. Mum kept saying things like "Isn't it wonderful to be together again?" and "I wish Mum could be here to see all you boys."

Bobby and Charlie had come home too, meeting in their old bedroom and telling stories about when they were young. Kathryn couldn't join in, because they shut the door and she couldn't hear what they were saying. It didn't matter too much because she managed to earn some extra pocket money. Johnny had paid her to clean his best shoes ready for the funeral.

Once she'd turned eight Kathryn used to earn quite a bit of pocket money from her brothers by polishing their shoes when they were getting ready to go out on Saturday night. She enjoyed rubbing the waxy polish onto their best brown and black shoes and buffing them with a soft rag. Dad told her the heels were just as important as the toes, and she always felt pleased when her brothers commented on what a good job she did. Cleaning shoes for her brothers hadn't happened for a couple of years now, but she hadn't forgotten how to do it.

With the money Johnny gave her she walked to the paper shop and bought a couple of comics, one Archie and one Phantom. Even though Johnny was sort-of married he still read Man magazines. It wasn't hard for Kathryn to grab one to read and laugh at the jokes. Johnny didn't even miss it.

Tomorrow was Nana's funeral and Dad and her brothers had gone to the pub for a couple of beers. Kathryn heard her mother talking to them before they left, getting them to promise to come home early, so they were in a fit state to go to church the next morning.

'Yoohoo, anyone home?'

Seated with her back to the door between the dining room and kitchen, Kathryn made no attempt to turn around when she heard the voice. Mum stood in the kitchen, cooking more cakes for the people who were expected after Nana's funeral.

Kathryn wished she could leave the dining room where she was shelling peas for Mum and go hide in her bedroom. Aunty Maggie wasn't one of her favourite people. She always bossed Kathryn around, telling her what she should be reading, how she shouldn't eat lollies and a whole pile of other nonsense.

'Come in,' Mum said. 'Oh, you've brought more cakes around. I'll have to put them on the sideboard in the lounge room for now.'

Mum took the cakes past Kathryn and into the front room. Glancing up. Kathryn saw the cream-filled sponge and lamingtons, which Aunty Maggie had made, looked yummy. Even if she didn't like Aunty Maggie, Kathryn had to admit she cooked delicious cakes. With her head bent, Kathryn pretended to be busy with her job, so she didn't have to speak to her aunt, but thankfully, Aunty Maggie stopped in the kitchen and waited for Mum to return.

'Johnny's home, you know,' Mum said.

'And?' Aunty Maggie said. She had a funny tone in her voice.

'He didn't bring her with him.' Mum spoke quietly, so Kathryn strained her ears to listen.

'Thank God he has a little respect for his grandmother then, not to bring his fancy piece home.'

'I have brought him up properly,' Mum said a little louder.

Kathryn could tell that Mum was starting to get cranky; she hoped they would say more because by now she was dying to know what they meant. She didn't dare leave the table and stand closer. Where she was sitting she knew her aunt could easily see her through the doorway from the kitchen. Lowering her head, she pretended to be occupied with the peas.

'Apparently not properly enough,' Aunty Maggie said.

'You only have one daughter and she's an old maid.'

Mum's voice sounded sharp now, as sharp as Aunty Maggie's usually was. Putting the peas down, Kathryn stopped as still as she could, so she could hear every word.

"Thank God for that.'

Aunty Maggie was thanking God a lot. She went to church every Sunday, to the Congregational Church in her street. Maybe that was why she talked to God so much.

'Men have a much greater need for it than women have, that's a fact,' Mum said.

'You've changed your tune.'

'I still think that Johnny should go back to his wife and kids, but she won't have him, so if he's getting a bit on the side there's nothing I can do about it. It doesn't eat grass, you know.'

Kathryn could feel her face starting to go red. She'd never heard her mother talk like this before. She knew what the sisters were talking about. Sex.

Recently Mum had bought her Peyton Place for coming first in the school tests. Mum hadn't had any idea what the book was about, and obviously hadn't looked through it before she'd given it to her. It was the book Kathryn most wanted to read ever since she'd seen it advertised in a magazine and she'd pestered Mum for weeks before her birthday to buy it. Although she didn't understand everything, she'd learnt something about sex from reading that book. Some of what she'd read had made her uncomfortable, but it wasn't as embarrassing as listening to her mother talking about private things.

'Before the end of the world there'll be no such thing as marriage,' Aunty Maggie proclaimed. 'And men and women will go together like dogs on the street,' she finished with a flourish.

Kathryn closed her eyes, waiting for her mother to answer, and then wished she hadn't. An image formed in her mind. And it wasn't a nice one. Once she'd seen two dogs joined together when she'd been on her way to the pictures. Would men and women really lie down in the middle of the road to do that, just like the dogs? She shook her head. The dogs hadn't been actually lying down, but she didn't want to think about it too much. She could still picture Kevin Sanders with his willy dangling down.

You're probably right,' Mum said after a long silence. 'I can see the way the world is heading. People getting divorced, girls having babies out of wedlock, my son living in sin. All I can hope for is that Johnny will see he's heading in the wrong direction and come back home. He could stay here now that Mum's gone.'

Kathryn could hear the tears in her mother's voice and she wanted to go and hug her, but she didn't move when Aunty Maggie spoke.

'She's in a better place,' Aunty Maggie said.

For a moment Kathryn wanted to go out and kick her aunt in the shins. First of all, Aunty Maggie said that Mum wasn't a good mother, now she was saying that Mum hadn't looked after Nana properly. Then she heard her mother answer.

'For months I've been praying she would go and join Dad. It's what she wanted.'

'I've finished the peas,' Kathryn called out. There wasn't going to be anymore juicy gossip, so maybe she could go outside and see if Jane wanted to play with the skipping rope.

'How is Kathryn? Is she going to the funeral tomorrow?' Aunty Maggie asked. Bristling, Kathryn stopped in the doorway. Her aunt was talking about her as if she wasn't there.

'I'm going to leave her with Cassie,' Mum said. 'I don't want Kathryn going to the graveside to see Mum's body getting lowered into the ground. She can come back here for the wake. I've invited Cassie over as well. She's been a marvellous help these past few days.'

'Is Cassie and that husband of hers, Bull, getting on any better?'

'I haven't heard any rows lately. Roy has already got himself a job in Newcastle and is away from home more with his travelling on the bus and train.'

'Arthur has applied for a position at an open-cut mine up near Stanford,' Aunty Maggie said. 'He'll be able to drive himself to work, of course. There's a few of them got jobs there, so they'll share the car expenses.'

Holding the bowl of peas in her hand, Kathryn entered the kitchen. Apparently her mother wasn't going to take any notice of her today, and she'd had enough of the conversation. She placed the bowl of shelled peas on the sink and put the pods in a container ready to feed to the chooks.

'Can I go over to Jane's?' she asked, after saying a quick hello to her aunt.

'Tea in an hour,' her mother answered.

'Bye, Aunty Maggie,' Kathryn called, as she ran out the door and down the back steps. Laddie had been keeping watch on the small top landing and he followed after her. After hurrying to the washhouse, she grabbed her rope and skipped with it up to the front gate and across the footpath towards Jane's, Laddie behind her. She could see her friend in the backyard feeding the geese.

'Jane!' she called.

Her best friend turned and waved. 'I won't be a minute,' she said, before running up the yard with the feeding bowl in her hand to take it inside.

Entertaining herself by doing "peppers" with the skipping rope, Kathryn jumped faster than she had ever done, twirling the skipping rope over her head as Paul Newman did when he played a boxer in Somebody Up There Likes Me. Paul Newman was so handsome with his blue eyes, she now preferred him to Rory Calhoun. She tried to cross her hands as she'd seen the boxer do, but couldn't manage that one. By the time Jane emerged from her yard, Kathryn felt exhausted.

'Let's go and sit on the grass in our front yard,' she said. She knew she would be safe going back home. Uncle Arthur had driven up in his car and picked Aunty Maggie up. He'd probably gone down to the Co-op to get petrol while Aunty Maggie dropped off the cakes.

Laddie had investigated the grass along the fence, but as they went back inside the yard he left them to go and take up his favourite position on the back steps. As they sat cross-legged on the grass, Kathryn felt the coolness under her bare legs, a sign that autumn was already here.

'Have you seen the huge tent down by the station park?' Jane idly picked what they called Yam-yams and chewed the small bulbs while they spoke.

'No, I haven't been outside much for the past couple of days, ever since....' Kathryn didn't finish her sentence. Death, real death, remained something they didn't talk about, although they loved to re-live all the gory details in one of the cowboy or gangster pictures they saw at the Roxy.

'There's going to be a big meeting there over the weekend, on Friday, Saturday and Sunday night. Mum said I could go with Doreen on Friday.'

'What kind of meeting?' Kathryn couldn't imagine why Doreen would want to go to a place where people talked about serious things. Jane's older sister seemed to be constantly giggling and acting silly. She seemed more interested in how full her starched petticoats were, rather than if Jesus was in heaven.

'It's called a religious vival or something,' Jane said. 'A preacher is coming all the way from America.'

'Not Billy Graham? You know, the one we saw on the newsreel?' Kathryn began to get interested. She'd seen the report where people swooned and fainted and behaved really strangely. One lady who'd been in a wheelchair had stood up and walked, then fell down crying at Billy Graham's feet. Although she couldn't imagine anyone from Merthyr Vale acting like that, going to watch what happened could be fun.

'No, I can't remember his name, but it wasn't Billy Graham.' Jane spat some of the bulb onto the grass.

After getting to her feet, Kathryn held her hand out to her friend. 'Do you think Doreen will take me with you? Come with me and I'll ask Mum if she'll let me go.'

**********************************************************************

Johnny had left to go back to the South Coast. He'd been very drunk at the house after Nana's funeral; so had Dad and Bobby and Charlie. Somehow, Mum hadn't minded. She'd been busy with lots of people who came back to the house for a party, where everyone talked about Nana, cried a lot, and told funny Nana stories, making everyone forget about crying and start laughing.

Kathryn wished they'd let her go to the funeral service. She heard Mum say it was lovely, although Kathryn couldn't imagine why. How could it be lovely to see someone in a box? Even Dad said that the minister did a good job. He liked how Reverend Robert talked about Nana and even shared a couple of stories that nobody had heard before.

Although, when her father became really drunk, he started saying some things about how "religion was the opium of the masses", or something like that. By that time, Reverend Robert had already left. Kathryn knew her mother was relieved the minister didn't hear what her father said, because she was too. Surprised that Reverend Robert knew Nana so well, Kathryn began to see him in a different way. Apparently Nana had been a regular churchgoer before she went funny in the head and started forgetting things. And Reverend Robert seemed as though he'd really cared about her.

Mum let Kathryn have Thursday off school, so she could say good-bye to Johnny, Bobby, Rachel and little Mervyn. Bobby wasn't supposed to go yet, but he'd decided it would be a big help and a lot cheaper for them all, if they could travel together. After crowding into the front seat of Johnny's utility, they left just after lunch. Even Dad took a day off work to see them leave. All of Rachel's, Bobby's and Mervyn's clothes, as well as Mervyn's toys, were stacked in the back of the Ute, piled so high it looked as though the small truck would tip over at any minute.

The house had been horribly quiet after they left. Neither Mum nor Dad spoke to her or each other and Kathryn felt pleased to go back to school on Friday, even if it was Sports day.Now it was early Friday evening and the house seemed strange. Dad had already gone to the pub or the Golf Club and Mum wasn't Mum. She didn't smile anymore.

'Mum, Doreen and Jane want me to leave soon,' Kathryn called. She needed to remind Mum that she was going to the Revival tonight. Besides not smiling, her mother seemed to be absent-minded today, quite different from her usual self.

'Are you sure that Doreen is going to look after you?' Mum came to the bedroom doorway, watching while Kathryn slipped into a dark blue skirt and pale blue angora wool jumper. 'You're starting to get a shape. Watch those boys.'

'Oh, Mum. I'm only going across the road.' Kathryn put her head down, so Mum wouldn't see her face go pink. Would the boys really think she was pretty? She glanced past her mother's shoulder, saw her reflection in the dressing-table mirror and couldn't stop smiling at what she saw; she really didn't look too bad. 'The meeting finishes at nine and Doreen has promised Mrs. Burgoyne that she won't take her eyes off us.'

'Are you ready, Kathryn?' Jane's voice called from the back door.

'See you later, Mum.' Kathryn picked up her shoulder bag containing her best-crocheted handkerchief and a shilling for the plate, and hurried to meet Jane and Doreen who stood waiting on the back steps.

They didn't have far to go. It was about one hundred yards down the lane, the opposite end to where they headed to go to the pictures; then along to where they crossed the main road, and then another fifty yards to where a large grey tent was pitched. Two smiling women stood near the open flap, welcoming them and pressing a program into their hands.

Her belly churning with excitement, Kathryn looked around inside the tent. Fold-out chairs were arranged with an aisle in the centre. It looked as if they expected a lot of people. Plainer inside than she expected, the only ornament was a large black cross, attached to the tent wall behind a small stand at the front. A couple of chairs remained empty behind a lonely microphone. No pictures of bleeding Jesus anywhere.

There were quite a few familiar faces, and some she'd never seen, probably visitors from the next town. Kevin Sanders sat towards the front with some of his mates. Kathryn hoped Doreen would sit near them, but she chose to go to the back row.

'Why can't we sit near the front?' Kathryn complained. Already a horde of people was arriving and filling up the seats. Like her, they wanted to go near the front, to be part of the action.

Doreen shrugged. 'You and Jane go. I'm meeting my boyfriend.'

'Come on, then,' Jane said, grabbing Kathryn's hand. 'She doesn't want us around. She's been whinging to me all day. She had to bring us so Mum and Dad wouldn't know about her boyfriend. She'll kill me if we say anything.'

'Isn't she over sixteen now? I would have thought she'd be allowed to have a boyfriend.'

'She probably would be, but she knows Mum and Dad wouldn't like him. He's really old. I heard Doreen tell her friend he was twenty-five. Now she's started work at the factory she sees him all the time, because he works there, too,'

'Wow!' Kathryn couldn't think of anything else to say, but she couldn't stop her mind from wandering back to some of the stories she'd read. She knew what older men wanted from young girls. Looking over to where they'd come inside, she saw Doreen smiling at a bloke. He wasn't the slightest bit good-looking.

'I hope your sister doesn't do anything silly,' she said.

Kathryn hoped that Jane wouldn't ask her what she meant, because Kathryn didn't know. All she knew was it was dangerous for a young girl to go out with older men. Every True Confession she read told her that. She looked over at Doreen again, screwing up her face when she saw the man put his arm around Doreen and go out the tent opening. Turning back to the front, Kathryn started to say something more to Jane about Doreen, but she didn't have a chance to speak before the music started.

Some people were jigging up and down in their seats. It wasn't quite rock and roll although the beat sounded loud, like the Negro people from America sang when they were in church. Kathryn glanced around, but nobody stood or waved their hands in the air. She wished they would, because she was getting bored. Kevin Sanders took no notice of her. She'd looked at him a couple of times, but he stayed gazing at the front, his face almost shining.

Then the deputy mayor from the shire came forward and introduced the preacher. A hush fell over the crowd and the hairs on Kathryn's arm prickled. As soon as Cecil Anderson began to speak, Kathryn knew why she was there. He talked about life in the coal mining community, the dangerous jobs the men faced, the way some of the women were abused and that Jesus wouldn't stand for it. Then he began describing heaven. It was such a wonderful place, where loved ones met each other again. He told them if they wanted to get there, and Kathryn knew she did, they had to accept Jesus as their Saviour.

Hoping Nana had accepted Jesus, Kathryn listened closely to the preacher's words about Heaven. Nana was going to meet Pop again, and even see her own parents. His words made Kathryn feel happy. She wanted to believe them so much. It all sounded so wonderful

The organ began playing O Lamb of God, I Come I Come. It was an old-fashioned hymn, different from the other music that had been playing. Cecil Anderson stood out the front with his arms outstretched, pointing to the heavens. People began walking forward to kneel in front of the platform where the preacher stood. With the music now playing softly in the background, Cecil Anderson came down from the stand to place his hands on each person's head and hold a short conversation with them.

About half the people in the tent came forward. Kathryn was amazed when Kevin walked down the front, his hands clasped in front of him. He always got into trouble at school, and even with the police sergeant. Though he hadn't actually killed a cat as one of the boys in her class had, Kathryn couldn't imagine anyone less likely than Kevin to want to change his life and be as good as Jesus would want him to be.

'Are you going to go forward?' Jane whispered.

Kathryn shook her head. She liked to think Nana lived in a happy place, but she felt too embarrassed to walk out there with everyone looking at her. Besides, although she liked to hear stories about Jesus, she wasn't too sure he was actually the Son of God. If he was, she knew her father would go to church, because Dad always knew the right thing to do.

Once all the people out the front had walked back to their seats Cecil Anderson moved onto the stand and said a closing prayer. Glancing at her watch, Kathryn saw it was already a quarter to nine. The time had passed quickly. Then Cecil Anderson asked everyone to stay in their seats while the donation was collected. As a couple of young men passed baskets around, he moved down the aisle and towards the exit. Music began playing again, but it was soft, sweet music and Kathryn knew the program had finished.

'Where's your sister?' she said to Jane, who looked as though she didn't want to move.

Jane turned around, gazing towards the back of the tent. 'I can't see her anywhere. I'll go and look for her. Here, you put my money in the box and then wait out the front. Don't move or I mightn't be able to find you.' Jane started towards the back, while Kathryn sat in her seat until the collection ended.

Caught up in the crowd, Kathryn slowly made her way to the exit where Cecil Anderson shook everyone by the hand. She hoped he would move away before she got there, because she didn't know what to say to him. Stopping short of the exit, Kathryn allowed everyone to go past. It didn't work. She was the last person to leave, but he still waited for her.

'What's your name, little lady?' he asked.

Kathryn squirmed. She hated being called that. 'Kathryn,' she said. 'Kathryn Carpenter.'

Cecil Anderson put out his hand and took hold of hers. 'Have you been saved, Kathryn?'

'I haven't got time right now,' she blurted. 'My friend is waiting for me.'

'You haven't got time for Our Lord?' Cecil Anderson smiled at her, but his bushy eyebrows seemed to be frowning.

Looking him straight in the eyes, Kathryn realised he was only the same height as her, barely five feet tall. Pastor Anderson wasn't a big Goliath, whom she'd heard about in Sunday school; however at this moment, she felt as though he became a huge giant.

'Not right now. My mother is expecting me, ' she answered, trying to remain calm. Her heart beat out a wild tattoo, deafening her eardrums. This man wouldn't hurt her; she knew that. But she couldn't understand why she felt so guilty.

Peeping over Cecil Anderson's shoulder, she could see Jane and Doreen standing together, waiting for her. How did they manage to escape? She took a sideways step, but Cecil Anderson moved with her, blocking her way.

'All you need for complete happiness, my child, is to confess your sins and take Jesus Christ as your Saviour.'

'Aloud?'

Kathryn thought she saw the middle-aged man almost smile.

'Preferably,' he answered. 'Come, let's kneel.'

'Here?' Kathryn knew she was going to die from embarrassment.

Quickly glancing behind, she noticed a couple of men stacking chairs. They didn't seem to be taking any notice of her. She wished she'd gone forward earlier when Kevin did. That wouldn't have been anywhere near as horrible as this.

What did she have to tell this man? That she'd tricked her mother into buying her Peyton Place? That she used to take the Man magazines from under her brothers' beds and read them? That she'd seen the boys in the nuddy when she'd sneaked onto old Mr. Payne's property?

Her throat was drying up. But there was no other way. She knelt on the ground in front of Cecil Anderson sure she could hear Doreen and Jane giggling in the background.

'Say after me,' Cecil Anderson began. 'I confess my sins and welcome Jesus Christ into my life as my Saviour.'

Kathryn felt so relieved she could have kissed his feet. She'd been so positive she'd have to tell the preacher and Jesus all her sins: all the bad things she'd thought about or done. As fast as she could, she repeated Cecil Anderson's words, got to her feet, shook the smiling man by the hand and escaped, vowing she would never, ever go to a Revival meeting again.

Chapter Fourteen

May 1957.

Have you got time for a cuppa?' Cassie called from the side fence.

A scoop balanced in her hand, and Laddie at her heels, Polly had been ready to take a load of coal up for the open fire. 'I seem to have time on my hands nowadays. Give me ten minutes to finish the breakfast dishes and I'll be right over,' she said.

'Can you come now?

The tone of Cassie's voice cut through Polly's indifferent shell. In the past Polly had heard Cassie being over-emotional, even hysterical, but today she sounded desperate – desperate enough to move Polly to do something. Noting the dark circles under Cassie's eyes, and the drawn face, Polly nodded. How long had her neighbour been like this?

Silently cursing herself that she hadn't noticed something was wrong, Polly tipped the coal into the bucket, leaving it there to collect later.

Bending down, she patted Laddie's black and white head. 'Stay here,' she said. 'I shouldn't be too long.' She then hurried down to the gate and across the back lane towards the Burgoyne's.

Since Ada had come to live with her, Polly hadn't been over to Burgoyne's for a cup of tea; neither had she invited Cassie to her home. Not that socialising with Cassie had ever been on her to-do list. But Ada had died at the end of March. Six weeks had passed and Polly hadn't any desire to mix with anyone. Even Chip said she needed to cheer up, that her long face and unhappy mood affected them all. He was being unfair. At least Chip had his work and gardening to keep him occupied, both of them better than the boring housework Polly did every day. She couldn't believe she used to get pleasure from washing floors and dusting furniture. Now she couldn't seem to find enjoyment in anything.

Cassie's weed-filled lawn wouldn't cheer anyone up, Polly thought as she looked through Burgoyne's' broken palings along the fence. It didn't have fruit trees as hers did, just a solitary lemon, which bore an occasional scraggy looking fruit. Other than some flowers across the front fence, only a couple of straggly geraniums survived in a small rockery about halfway down the backyard. Unlike Chip, Roy didn't seem to be interested in gardening. Polly sometimes wondered if Roy had any interests other than drinking.

'What's wrong?' she asked Cassie who had come outside into the lane to meet her. The younger woman nervously twisted her hands, a habit she often displayed.

Cassie grabbed her arm. 'Not here,' she said. 'Come inside where we can be private.'

Polly glanced around. There was nobody in sight. Obviously Cassie was concerned about a member of her family, because letting anyone hear her gossiping about someone in their small community usually didn't bother her.

'All right,' Polly said, 'let's go inside where we can sit and have a strong cup of tea. You look as though you could use it.'

Cassie didn't say a word as they walked up the slight incline towards the unpainted weatherboard house, and her quiet manner troubled Polly. For a brief moment she wished Cassie would start screaming. She knew how to deal with that.

They climbed Cassie's rough timber steps and entered a sunroom at the back of the house. It had a sloping ceiling lined with boards and dusty louvred windows that Polly hated. But although the weather outside remained cold, the small room felt comfortably warm, although it had a slight musty smell.

'Sit down. I'll go and put the jug on,' Cassie said, indicating a hard, pink-flowered sofa for Polly to sit.

'Forget about the tea for a few minutes,' Polly said, grabbing hold of Cassie's hand. 'Come and sit down here and tell me what's worrying you.'

Cassie slowly lowered herself onto the sofa and immediately began to blubber. Sniffles accelerated into tears that ran in shiny rivulets down her face. Polly passed a handkerchief to the distressed woman, who didn't seem to notice the gesture as her emotions took over. Deep, soul- wrenching sobs began to arise from her belly, erupting into the tiny room and reverberating through the still house.

Sitting silently, Polly let her cry. She'd been through something similar when she'd found her mother dead. She knew there were no words, no actions, to soothe her neighbour. Whatever was bothering Cassie was destroying her sense of self-worth. Cassie blamed herself for whatever had happened, just as Polly had.

Leaving Cassie sitting in the sunroom, Polly went into the small combined kitchen and dining area. A glowing fuel stove made the room uncomfortably warm. It didn't take Polly long to find a teapot, remove the hissing kettle from the stove and make some strong black sugared tea to take to her friend.

'I take milk,' Cassie said, when Polly pushed the cup and saucer into her hand.

'Drink it. It will be good for you.' Polly sat down and waited while Cassie took a couple of sips.

'That's enough,' Cassie said, screwing up her face and pushing the cup towards Polly, who put it on a small table near them.

'Are you ready to tell me what's bothering you? Has Roy lost his job? Is that it?' Polly leant forward, waiting for Cassie to begin.

Cassie turned her tear - ravaged face towards Polly, giving her a puzzled look. 'Job? Why would I worry about a stupid job?'

'You must have a lot of money behind you, if Roy's job isn't important.' Polly stopped herself from saying something harsher. Sometimes Cassie's thoughts seemed to go in entirely the wrong direction. Good God, everyone was worried about where their husbands were going to get work. Everyone except Cassie, apparently.

'It's Doreen,' Cassie said, her lips beginning to tremble again.

'Oh no, you poor thing, what's wrong with her?' Polly reached across and took Cassie's hand in hers. This was terrible news. Having a child with some dreadful illness was more than any mother needed, or wanted to have happen.

'She's up the duff,' Cassie said and began to sob again.

'For Christ's sake, Cassie, pull yourself together.' Polly let go of the younger woman's hand and got to her feet. 'If that's the worst thing that n in the oven before they got married. Bloody hell, even my sister Maggie just made it. She went can happen, you've got nothing to worry about. At least half the women in this town had a bu into labour at the wedding reception. I was only seventeen when I got married. How old were you?'

'Eighteen,' Cassie answered, between dry sobs. 'We got married before Roy went off to war. I got pregnant with Doreen before he shipped out, and with Jane when he came home wounded.'

'There you go. There's nothing to worry about,' Polly said. ' Doreen is sixteen, old enough to get married, isn't she? I'd better head home and do the dishes.'

'The bastard's married!' Cassie yelled, jumping to her feet.

For a moment Polly thought Cassie was going to punch her. With her hands clenched by her side, rage erupted from the younger woman's face and her body. Whoever this married creep proved to be he was lucky he wasn't there now, because Polly doubted he would have escaped with his life.

'Sit,' she said, dragging Cassie back down onto the sofa. 'I don't suppose you've thought of Ronnie Siddell?' Polly asked.

Cassie looked at her blankly.

'You know, she gets rid of babies.'

'It's too late. She's at least five months along.' The fight seemed to have gone out of Cassie, who sat with her hands hanging limply between her legs.

'Five months? It's a wonder you didn't notice.'

Cassie shook her head. 'She was sly; being careful we didn't see her in her underwear. I don't think she planned to ever tell us. But she couldn't hide her belly forever.'

'You poor thing. What are you going to do?'

'Doreen's going to live with my sister in Sydney till she has the baby, and then she'll give it up. There's lots of people out there waiting to adopt a baby.' Cassie gazed into Polly's eyes as though she was waiting for her reaction.

'That sounds like the best thing to do,' Polly said, giving the anxious woman a comforting smile. 'Then no one will know about it. Doreen will be able to come back home and live.'

'No, that's just it.' Cassie's voice became agitated again. 'Roy told her she's to go before he gets home from work tonight and he doesn't want to see her again.'

'Oh no!'

No reassurance she could offer her neighbour came to Polly's mind – no comforting words. At the moment, all she could think of was her own family. What if Kathryn got caught in this situation? She pushed that thought away. To start with, she wouldn't allow it to happen, and there was no way Chip would ever turn his back on one of his children.

'Where's Doreen now?' she asked, getting her brain back into thinking of practical matters.

'She left on the early train. Oh, Polly, what can I do?' There were no tears left, but the anguish in Cassie's voice pierced through Polly with its intensity.

'Nothing,' she said, placing her arm comfortingly on Cassie's trembling shoulder. 'Just wait. I know it will be hard, very hard, but Roy isn't all bad. Time will make a difference. I'm sure he will change his mind in a few months and want to have his daughter back.'

'Do you really think so?' Cassie smiled through her tears, the desperation still apparent in her voice.

'Of course I do,' Polly lied. Roy wasn't Chip and she didn't know her neighbour's husband too well, but she doubted his forgiving nature. 'Give my love to Doreen when you write to her. Tell her to keep her chin up and you do the same.'

'Thank you. You're such a good friend,' Cassie said, giving Polly a quick hug.

An hour later, having had a cup of tea and biscuits with a subdued Cassie, Polly walked out of the house and slowly down the yard. Cassie had let her know how much she relied on her dependable presence; how much Polly's commonsense advice always helped solve her problems. Was Polly a good friend? She questioned her own sincerity, because all she could think of now was how grateful she felt that she wasn't Cassie.

*********************************************************************

Making sure she didn't wake her daughter, Polly dragged her treadle sewing machine out from behind Kathryn's bedroom door, carried it through to the dining room and hoisted it onto the table.

'What are you doing lifting that heavy thing? I could've got it out for you.' Chip sat in the rocking chair on the other side of the room, quietly absorbed, reading a novel.

'You had your head in a book as usual,' Polly said. She adjusted her old Singer so that she could comfortably reach the pedals.

'Nothing wrong with reading,' Chip said calmly. 'What are you making?'

'Kathryn's got a part in the Empire Day play at school. She's an Eskimo, so I'm cutting up Mum's old fur coat. I haven't got any more use for it. It must be forty years old at least.'

'The 24th is Friday week. Is it on then?'

'Yes, Kathryn has already been practising her part. She only has a few lines. At least, now that helping Maggie and Mrs. Callaghan decorate the float for the May Day parade is finished with, I have more time.'

'I wish I could be there.' Chip closed his book and took out his tobacco and cigarette papers.

'You can't take any time off. We don't know how much longer you're going to be working at the pit.' Polly began to thread the cotton into the machine, ready to start sewing.

'I'm going to talk to someone about getting a job with the council.'

Surprised at Chip's revelation, Polly stopped what she was doing. 'The council? You haven't got the necessary bit of paper to work in the office.'

'I'm talking about on the roads, as a labourer.' Chip relaxed back into the rocking chair and began to move it gently back and forth.

'Oh.' Polly wasn't sure if she was happy with that news. Chip would have a job, but it was a step downwards for him. At least as a shot firer he had to use his brains a bit and he was responsible for lives. She could imagine how Maggie would lord it over her now, especially when Arthur was doing so well in the pits.

'It's work. I'll be close to home. Won't need to pay out for transport. There's plenty of work to do locally.' Chip stopped his rocking motion and seemed to be waiting to see how she would react.

'It's not much money, is it?' Polly wished she hadn't said that. She could see her words hurt. He'd always been a good

to anything. But, as she had been thinking about it over the past weeks, she realised she was angrier with Chip for being so forgiving, of not seeming to care that he'd been let down so badly.

'We've got plenty in the bank for emergencies, haven't we?' Chip said provider, no matter what else he'd done, and now she felt as though she was tearing him down.

Deep inside, she couldn't hold down the anger she felt towards Mr. Callaghan. His promises of helping Chip find work hadn't amounted.

'It won't last forever,' She could cut out her tongue. He was being so reasonable, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from whittling away at him.

'Stop worrying, we'll manage,' he said patiently. 'Now, if you want to think on something worth worrying about, look at Taffy Jones.'

'He won the lottery last year. What has he got to worry about?'

Polly knew she wasn't going to get much sewing done tonight, but she didn't care. She had plenty of time to prepare the simple costume. It had been a while since she and Chip had sat and talked, so she pushed the machine to one side and focussed on her husband, who seemed to have forgotten he was about to roll a smoke.

'It seems as though it's affected Taffy's mind, having so much money,' Chip continued. 'He was worried that his wife might spend it. The poor bastard took it out the bank and put it in a booby-trapped hole in the yard. Set it with explosives. He came home drunk, decided he wanted to check on it, forgot about the dynamite and blew off two fingers.'

'Stupid bastard more like.' Polly laughed.

'You have to feel sorry for him. He couldn't handle change,' Chip said seriously.

'We all have to, now the pits are closing.'

'That's what I'm trying to say to you. Our lives are changing. Worrying about money is only going to give us misery. We need to keep on living and enjoying life.' Chip leant forward as he spoke, as though he wanted to make his words soak into her mind.

'At the pub, I suppose you mean.' There, she'd done it again. Opened her mouth and almost started an argument.

'You know I wasn't referring to that.' Chip hadn't raised his voice, but his eyebrows were drawn together and the tone of his voice was a little harder than usual.

Bristling at his firmness, Polly waved her arms to stress her point before answering in an equally unsympathetic manner. 'That's the trouble. You brush off all talk about your drinking. But I'm not going to stand by and see you drink yourself to death like your father did.'

'We're talking about our family, here and now, not the past. If we wanted to delve into the past, there wouldn't be anyone who was perfect.' Chip said.

His voice remained calm, but Polly had been married to him for almost thirty years; she could sense his mood and it wasn't relaxed. He had folded his arms and there was no light in his hazel eyes.

'What's that supposed to mean? Are you having a go at my father?' She knew she was reacting, not to him, but to her own fears about their future, but she couldn't seem to stop.

'Christ almighty woman, you know I'm not. I'm trying to say that we have a good life. We're healthy. We have plenty of food to eat. Good God, we're going to be the first in our street to have a television. What more do you want?'

'I'd like a husband who is home a bit more on the week-end, so he can spend some time with his daughter and his wife. But I have one who'd rather be out there in the gutter.'

Chip closed his eyes, 'Oscar Wilde said, "We are all in the gutter but some of us are looking at the stars".'

'Who the bloody hell's he?'

'Oscar Wilde, a famous writer – been dead for many years.'

'And that's what'll happen to you if you don't stop drinking so much.'

Chip snorted. 'How the hell did we get onto this? We were talking about Kathryn's part in the Empire Day concert at school.'

'Did I tell you about Doreen Burgoyne?' Polly said, now desperate to change the subject and get things back on an even keel.

'What about her?'

'The poor kid's got herself in trouble to a married man and Roy threw her out.'

Now she could see Chip was getting annoyed; he couldn't stand intolerance in any form; he particularly didn't like anyone turning away from a child. Polly could understand his attitude. Anyone who came from Chip's background would feel the same.

'Why would he do something like that? We could have let her stay here,' he said.

Polly bit her tongue. It was fine and dandy for Chip to say Doreen could stay with them, but who would be doing all the extra work? 'Well, she's gone, left for Sydney to have the baby and give it up for adoption.'

'The unfortunate girl. How's Cassie?'

'She's gone to pieces as usual, but she'll get herself together. We all have to.'

As though signalling their conversation was over, Chip picked up his book and began to read again.

'I'm scared,' Polly whispered, so he wouldn't hear.

It was no use confessing her fears to Chip because he wouldn't listen. As far as he was concerned they had a good life; nothing was wrong. Besides, she didn't really know what frightened her. Chip could talk all he liked about accepting change; maybe he could deal with it. She'd always thought his family remained the most important thing in his life, just as it was in hers. But he seemed to forget about his family when he was drunk and carousing with his mates, telling jokes and stories about the stupid tricks they played on each other.

Polly's life was empty. Kathryn was growing up fast. Then she'd be gone, just as the boys had, and what would Polly have left? Perhaps she should start going to church again. Religion had given some comfort to her mother in her later years.

She glanced over at Chip, who continued to be immersed in his book. Perhaps church wasn't the answer. Going there would put an even deeper wedge between her and Chip. She knew he wouldn't object; he tolerated everyone's point of view. He wouldn't join her; that would be totally against his beliefs, and she couldn't really blame him for following his heart.

Polly needed something, something to cling onto, and something to help her feel she was wanted, because her relationship with her husband wasn't giving her what she desired now. The trouble was, she had no idea what the answer could be.

Chapter Fifteen

July 1957

It had been a bitterly cold night, and although the early sun shone through the bottom of her bedroom blind, Kathryn snuggled further under her blankets. She didn't want to stop in the cosy snugness forever, because her belly was growling; breakfast smells wafted in from the kitchen: deliciously appetising smells. Creamy porridge with heaped spoonfuls of brown sugar was one of her favourites.

Torn between satisfying the niggling in her belly and facing the chill of the dining room, she wriggled her toes ready to take the plunge and face the cold house. A kerosene heater would provide little warmth in the dining room. It wouldn't do much to take away the coolness until the sun moved around in the late morning to shine through the window. The hunger pains won, and ready to eat, she pushed back the blankets, stopping when she heard the commotion outside her bedroom window.

'Attenshun! Keep in line! Right turn! About face!' Mr. Burgoyne always sounded as if he talked through his nose, so Kathryn knew it was Jane's Dad she could hear, even though he was shouting strange things. She got out of bed and rolled up her blind to peep through her frosty window.

At first she couldn't see much; her window was too fogged up. So she rubbed a space with the end of her pyjama sleeve, enough to allow her to peer into the yard next door. Giggling with surprise and embarrassment, Kathryn polished her window again, pressing her nose against the icy glass so she could see more.

A rifle slung over his shoulder, Mr Burgoyne, clothed in striped pyjamas, and with a slouch hat perched on his head, marched up and down in front of his geese. Jack Frost lay on the ground, the grass glistening with shiny white frosting and she could see scatterings of small clumps of ice underneath the shade of the huge peppercorn tree in Burgoyne's backyard.

Poor Mr. Burgoyne must feel very cold, because Kathryn began to shiver as she watched him. He'd apparently let the geese out of their small enclosure, and they were squawking loudly, enjoying the fresh grass and taking no notice of him.

'Get your arses into gear. What kind of soldiers do you think you're going to make!' he yelled. 'There's an enemy out there. A yellow one. And I don't mean they haven't got guts. You'll find that out. The little yellow bastards know how to fight in the jungle.'

Kathryn shook her head. At least her Dad didn't do anything as silly as Mr. Burgoyne did. She felt sorry for her best friend to have a father like that. After wrapping herself in her thick flannel dressing gown, she padded in slippered feet out to the dining room, where Dad sat reading the newspaper.

'Mr. Burgoyne's being pretty stupid,' she said, sitting down opposite her father.

Her father folded his newspaper in half and placed it carefully at the end of the table. As soon as he looked at Kathryn, she knew she'd said the wrong thing.

'Why would you say something like that?' Dad asked. His eyebrows were so close together

'You should see him. He's pretending the geese are soldiers and he's marching up and down, yelling at them. As though geese will do what they're told.' Kathryn didn't want to take back what she'd said to Dad, because Mr. Burgoyne was acting really silly, but she wished the words wouldn't have come out of her mouth quite like that.

'Have you ever been in a war?' Dad asked. He was still frowning at her and Kathryn wanted to get under the table, so she didn't have to look at him.

Dad's question was ridiculous. He knew she hadn't been in a war, but she wasn't game enough to say anything cheeky, so she shook her head.

'Mr. Burgoyne has,' Dad continued. 'And he had horrible things happen to him, just as a lot of the soldiers had, on both sides. The poor bugger gets affected by his memories every now and then. Is he hurting you?'

Lowering her gaze, Kathryn shook her head again.

'Is he hurting the geese?'

'No, I don't think so,' she mumbled, mentally counting the flowers on the tablecloth.

'Then, go tell your mother you're ready for breakfast and let Mr. Burgoyne deal with his own problems.'

Kathryn sulked all morning, spending most of the time in her bedroom taking refuge in reading Good Wives for the umpteenth time. Sometimes she wished her father would be more like Mum. At least Mum allowed her to say things about people without feeling guilty. What was wrong with saying Mr. Burgoyne was being stupid? It wasn't a lie. And it wasn't as though she'd been cheeky to Jane's father. She wouldn't even say anything about Mr. Burgoyne acting silly to Jane; he was her father, after all. And Mr. Burgoyne seemed okay, most of the time.

Even the pictures at the Roxy disappointed her this week. Peyton Place was showing, but only on Friday and Saturday nights. She'd been looking forward to seeing it so much after reading the book, especially when she'd seen the trailer and Lana Turner was in it. Kathryn liked Lana Turner. With her blonde hair shining like an angel's halo around her face, she looked really beautiful. Sometimes Kathryn was allowed to go to the Roxy in the night - time, but she had a feeling that her mother would say no today if she asked.

Doreen Burgoyne had a lot to answer for. She was going to have a baby. Mum constantly warned Kathryn about keeping away from strange men and not talking to boys. Just the thought of what Doreen probably had done to get a baby inside of her was bad enough to keep Kathryn away from the opposite sex. She wasn't sure what went on between men and women, or in Doreen's case, men and girls, but she knew she wouldn't do anything like Doreen must have done. Even thinking about it gave her goose bumps.

If someone tried to rape her, Kathryn made a promise to herself that she would choose death. Though, she had to admit, she wasn't sure what being raped exactly meant, just as she wasn't sure what happened when you died.

'Jill's here,' Mum called.

Putting her book down on the bed, Kathryn almost did a little dance on the spot. She didn't like Good Wives as much as Little Women. She'd been so sure that Laurie would ditch Amy and convince Jo to marry him, and Professor Bhaer seemed too old for Jo. A visit from Jill was what she needed to cheer her up. At least she could talk to Jill about anything she wanted to without being told she was wrong, or to be careful. She hurried into the dining room where Jill waited, holding a small parcel in her hand.

'Hello Kath. Let's go into your bedroom,' Jill said.

Puzzled, Kathryn looked over Jill's shoulder to where Mum stood, looking on, in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. She was actually smiling, looking like she used to before Nana died. Wondering what on earth was going on, Kathryn turned and accompanied her sister-in-law into her bedroom, her mother right behind them.

Jill tipped the contents of the paper bag onto the bedspread. Even though the two pink brassieres were a similar colour to her quilt, to Kathryn they seemed to glow, looking very conspicuous spread on top of the bed. She could feel her face turning a darker shade than the objects that lay in front of her.

'Strip off,' her mother demanded, and Kathryn felt hotter and more uncomfortable.

Mum could be so rude. Sometimes she sounded like Nana when the old lady had talked about private things: things that should be whispered about, certainly not talked about loudly, looking as though you were having fun. That was what Mum was doing.

'Come on. We haven't got all day.' Her mother motioned for Kathryn to take off her jumper and singlet. 'You're going to the pictures soon, aren't you?'

Kathryn nodded. 'This arvo A Farewell to Arms is on. There's a cowboy and Indian one on first. And tonight, there's a double feature - A Farewell to Arms and Peyton Place.' She looked at her mother hopefully. Her mother hadn't been to the pictures for at least a year. Anyone would want to go and see Peyton Place. Everyone was talking about it, even people on the wireless.

'I wish I was going,' Jill said. 'Isn't Rock Hudson in the one you're going to see? He's so gorgeous.'

'Enough of the film stars,' Mum said, not taking any hints. 'Let's get these growing tits covered.'

'Mum!' Embarrassed at her mother's expression, Kathryn turned her back to Jill and Mum, slipped off her jumper and put her arms through the bra straps. Jill did it up for her and Kathryn turned around, not quite sure she felt comfortable with this strange piece of clothing that smelt like rubber. Although, she had to admit, little tingles of excitement made her heart beat faster. She really was a teenager now, well, almost.

'You've got the latest fashion there.' Jill nodded towards Kathryn's chest.

Looking down over her chin, Kathryn saw what looked like two ice cream cones sticking out in front. 'Why am I so pointy?' she complained, looking at both Jill and her mother's busts. They were rounded, not spiky and weird.

'That's the way the new ones look,' Jill said. But Kathryn noticed that her sister-in-law wasn't looking too sure.

'You haven't got your clothes on yet,' Mum said cheerfully. 'Go on, put your jumper on. It'll cover you up. And say thank you to Jill. She's gone to a lot of trouble to make sure she got you the right size.'

'Thank you,' Kathryn mumbled, before dragging her blue angora jumper back over her head.

'There you go. You look like Doris Day,' Mum said. 'You can go to the pictures now, all dressed up, just like a young lady.'

Not quite sure if she should fold her arms across her front or put her hands behind her back, Kathryn clasped her hands, holding them together in an uncomfortable position in front of her waist. She was horribly aware of the bumps that seemed to be have risen from her front, and were standing all alone, like a lighthouse warning of dangerous waters.

After saying good-bye to Jill and Mum, Kathryn ran over to Jane's, telling Laddie who followed her down the yard, to stay inside the gate. Her friend waited in the back lane.

'I thought you were never coming,' Jane complained, frowning at Kathryn. 'What's wrong with your front?' she said, poking her finger into Kathryn chest.

'Now, look what you've done!' Kathryn yelled. There was a dent in the front of her jumper, which looked like the top of a volcano, all caved in and unattractive. She couldn't possibly go to the pictures looking like that. 'I hate you, Jane. I'm going home. You can go to the pictures by yourself.'

With tears streaming down her face, Kathryn turned to go back into her yard, but Jane restrained her by grabbing her arm. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'It's just that I didn't know what you had hidden under your jumper. I thought you must have been hiding a sherbet ice cream cone or something.'

'It's my new bra.' Kathryn sniffed, before wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. 'It's made out of rubber I think. At least it smells like rubber.'

Glancing around, she saw there was nobody in sight, so she pulled her jumper up and pushed her hand into the brassiere, so the point came back out again. She wished she'd filled in the ends with some extra hankies. 'I don't want you saying anything, Jane Burgoyne. Just because you're not growing into a teenager like I am, you shouldn't be jealous.'

Jane ignored her comment. 'We're going to be late. We'll have to run for it or all the best seats will be gone,' she said, starting to jog down the lane.

Kathryn ran beside her friend, almost tripping a couple of times when she constantly had the urge to look down at her chest. Although she'd told Jane she must be jealous, Kathryn secretly wished she were as skinny as the other girl. Jane didn't need to worry about someone bumping into her and pushing craters into her pointy bits.

It only took them a couple of minutes to get to the Roxy. Kathryn hadn't gone to the toilet at home before she left, so she wasn't game enough to buy a coke at the vestibule shop. She didn't want to have to go to the lav at the Roxy; it stank worse than anything she'd ever had to smell.

Even in winter, with the weather as cold as it was today, Kathryn wouldn't use the toilets outside the back door. The acid tang reminded her of bleach and the sharpness caught in her throat, making her want to choke and splutter. Her mother had told her it was stale piddle, from the lavs not being cleaned properly, but whatever the reason, now that they had a proper flush toilet at home, there was no way she was going to use the old fashioned dunny at the pictures.

Not wanting to have the usherette taking them in with a torch and stopping them from choosing their own seats, Kathryn and Jane hurried into the cold tin building to look around for the best place to sit. Strip heaters on the wall didn't help to make the interior warmer; there was no ceiling and the unlined tin roof was higher than the telegraph poles on the street outside. Both girls shivered; it was colder inside than out.

Kids always sat down in the front part; a wide aisle separated it from the rest of the seats. Cuddling teenagers usually sat in the last row of the back section. "Upstairs" didn't fill up in the Saturday matinee session, because only grown-ups sat there and they usually attended on Friday and Saturday nights. It was dearer to go up to the balcony and Kathryn had never been up there. Even if her parents came to the pictures, Mum wouldn't pay extra for a seat, saying you could see just as well from downstairs.

'There's two seats.' Jane grabbed her arm and pointed to the second back row in the front section.

Considering they were late, the seats were in a good position to see the screen clearly. If they sat too close, they'd have to lean their heads right back and Kathryn would end up with a sore neck. But as they hurried to get there, before anyone else grabbed the seats, Kathryn noticed something that didn't make her happy: the seats were right in front of Kevin.

Now that she was becoming a woman, Kathryn didn't want to sit near any of the boys. Besides, Kevin always stamped his feet louder than anyone else when the Cavalry arrived to chase off the marauding Indians. The noise could be deafening, when the kids all got going. And she knew Kevin would deliberately roll Jaffas down the sloping wooden floor during A Farewell To Arms. She wondered why any of the boys came to see the love stories, because none of them seemed to want to watch, whistling and catcalling every time someone kissed.

'I hope you're going to be quiet, Kevin,' Kathryn said, before sitting down.

Kevin laughed and whispered to his mate. Kathryn knew they must have been talking about her new womanly shape, but she didn't have time to have a go at him, before the lights went out, and the newsreel began.

Usually, Kathryn took little notice of the news, but today she felt almost grown up, so she paid attention to the screen. At first it was a bit scary, but only a little, because it showed things about something that happened a long way from her home here in Merthyr Vale. A man had escaped from gaol in Sydney. He was someone who was particularly dangerous around children, they said. He looked almost the same as any other man to Kathryn; he was short, but muscly, with tanned skin and dark hair. Then the camera zoomed in and showed a tattoo above his wrist. It was horrible, a huge devil's face with horns that seemed to be sneering at her.

Kathryn shivered, but not from the cold this time. She'd heard about evil things and even dreamt about demons; this was the first time she'd seen anything so nasty.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and she screamed.

Kevin laughed out loud. 'Got you, Chippie,' he said.

'One of these days I'll punch you, Kevin Sanders,' she whispered through clenched teeth. As cranky as she was, it didn't seem to bother Kevin who pushed into her seat, jiggling it backwards and forwards, so that she jerked around. Once the lion began roaring on the screen, he soon lost interest in doing that, and she hoped he would leave her alone for the rest of the show.

Settling back in her seat, Kathryn readied herself to enjoy the Saturday matinee, especially as she now had enough money left to buy a paddle-pop from the usherette who came around at interval. Then after the pictures, she'd buy a bottle of coke to drink on the way home. Saturdays were always fun.

*********************************************************************

An eerie wailing noise disturbed Kathryn and she pulled the blankets over her head, cranky with whatever it was that made the horrible sound. She'd forgotten to pull down her blind and moonlight streamed into her room, making it brighter than noon. It was too cold to poke her nose out too far, so she buried herself even further under the warm cocoon of her bed coverings. Scrunching her eyes tight helped blot out the light, but the awful screeching kept on and on and she knew she wouldn't get back to sleep. For a moment she became tempted to go into her mother and ask her if she could stop the noise. After sticking her foot out of the bed and feeling the icy air, she changed her mind.

Then someone thumped on the front door. It was so loud that Kathryn thought whoever was doing it would bash it in. Awake properly now, she listened to her mother and father's murmurings, and then heard Dad get up to open the door.

'Can you come over to our house?'

The panicked voice belonged to Jane, and forgetting about the chilly air, Kathryn leapt out of bed to wrap her dressing gown around her. Her friend seemed as though she was in trouble and Kathryn didn't care what Mum or Dad said, she was going to see what had happened.

'It's Mum! It's Mum!' Jane kept repeating.

Kathryn rushed into the hallway, stopping behind her mother and father so they wouldn't see her and tell her to go back to bed. Jane might need her.

Standing just inside the door, Jane wore what looked like her father's heavy flannel dressing gown and she had her mother's slippers on her feet. Red and white streaks blotched her pretty face, and Kathryn felt sure she'd been crying. Jane's eyes were the scariest part of her, standing out in her head. Even though Kathryn smiled at Jane, trying to cheer her up, she wasn't sure if Jane even noticed her hanging around behind her parents.

'What's happened to your Mum, Jane,' Mum said, taking Jane's hand in hers and rubbing it gently.

Kathryn thought her mother suspected that Mr. Burgoyne might have belted Mrs. Burgoyne really hard, even killed her.

'Mum's screaming. She won't stop,' Jane said, shaking Polly's hand as though to make her believe she was telling the truth.

'I could hear her,' Kathryn said. Her bedroom window faced the Burgoyne's yard, although Mrs. Burgoyne must have been yelling really loud, because the Burgoyne's house was on the other side of the block of land.

Both her parents turned around, frowning at her. 'You should be in bed,' Dad said.

Kathryn shook her head. 'Jane needs me.' She looked at Jane for her friend to back her up, but Jane didn't seem to see her.

'Mum's screaming,' Jane repeated in a scared voice.

'All right Jane, we'll put on something warm,' Dad said. 'I think we may as well all go over.'

'Kathryn, go and put a jumper on over your pyjamas and then put your dressing gown back on top of everything. It's freezing,' Mum said. 'I won't be long, Jane. We'll walk back with you.'

As soon as they left the house Kathryn knew what her mother meant by freezing. She felt as though a great ice monster had reached out of the cloudless sky and seized her with its tentacles. Already her nose was so cold that it was numb; a few drips trickled from her nostrils and she sniffed, trying to stop the flow.

Outside was weird, the strange shimmering light from the bright moon creating an eerie background where shadows moved restlessly. They seemed to be filled with curious creatures making small noises: a crackling, a sighing, even a moaning, when a slight breeze rustled through the shrubbery.

Shivering as much from the excitement of the moment as from the freezing weather, Kathryn grabbed Jane's hand, whispering to her, 'Why's your mother screaming so much?'

Jane shook her head. 'I don't know. I was asleep and I woke up to hear some men talking to Mum. I didn't hear what they said. They left and Mum followed them onto the front veranda and then came back inside and started screaming.'

Jane's hand felt limp and Kathryn squeezed it, feeling sorry for her friend. Jane didn't have her sister to talk to anymore, now Doreen wasn't living here.

'Did you ask her why she was screaming?'

Jane nodded, 'I don't think Mum heard me,' she said.

Kathryn would have liked to ask more questions, but they'd arrived at Burgoyne's gate and she felt she needed to be quiet as they walked up the short path. The front door stood slightly ajar. Jane mustn't have closed it when she left. Mrs. Burgoyne wasn't outside and there was no noise coming from inside. They huddled together for a moment on the bull-nosed covered wooden veranda listening, but other than the hooting of a night bird, they heard nothing.

Mum went into the house first. 'Oh, my God!' she yelled. 'Do we need to get an ambulance?'

Crying, Jane ran past Mum into the room to bend over her mother, who lay stretched out on the floor. Jane shook her mother's shoulder. Feeling as though her insides were burning, Kathryn couldn't keep her eyes off Jane's trembling body, but she didn't know what to do, how to help. When her friend's heart wrenching sobs echoed through the quiet house, Kathryn put her hands over her ears, trying to block out the upsetting noise.

It became too hard to stand there and to feel absolutely useless. Shivers began to quiver through Kathryn's body when she watched her father bend down to help Mrs. Burgoyne. Grabbing hold of Jane's hand, Mum led her away, so Dad could take care of her mother. Gently he felt around Mrs. Burgoyne's body, arms and legs, and turning to Mum, shook his head. 'She doesn't appear to be hurt. I can't see any bruises,' he added. 'I think she's in shock.'

After making a couple of whimpering sounds, Mrs. Burgoyne opened her eyes. 'Roy?' She clung to Dad's arm, murmuring in a voice that sounded like a little child.

'Get a glass of water and put the jug on to make some tea,' Dad said to Mum. 'C'mon Cassie, let's get you upright.'

Because Mrs. Burgoyne was so skinny, Dad easily picked her up and put her in a faded brown velvet lounge chair. Once she was settled, Mum knelt at her feet, offering a glass of water. 'Cassie, what's happened?' she asked.

'The police,' Mrs. Burgoyne whispered. She seemed to be having trouble getting the words out and Kathryn took a step forward, so she could properly hear what was going on.

'Were they here?' Mum asked, reaching out to take the glass before Mrs. Burgoyne spilled the water.

Mrs. Burgoyne nodded her head. She seemed to be able to hear what Mum said, but her face looked empty.

Drawing in a deep breath, Kathryn looked at Jane, who now sat on the three-seater lounge chair. After moving to sit really close to her sad friend, Kathryn put her arm around her shoulder. Kathryn knew now that the men's voices Jane heard must have been the police.

'Was Roy beating you?' Mum's voice sounded strange, as though she didn't want to say the words out loud.

Mrs. Burgoyne shook her head. For a moment Kathryn thought she was going to cry again, but she didn't make a sound, just kept staring ahead. Her eyes looked funny, like a wet mirror.

'Where's Roy?' Dad said. 'The pub's been closed for over an hour.'

'I don't know. I forgot to ask. They said they'd come back in the morning and take me to see him. I told them I don't have a car.' Mrs. Burgoyne sounded weird, her voice croaking and scratchy. Kathryn guessed it was probably because she'd screamed so much.

'Which lock-up is he in?' Dad said. 'Polly might be able to go with you tomorrow.'

'Of course I will,' Mum said.

'Will you? I don't think I can face it alone.' Mrs Burgoyne put out her hand and grabbed Mum really tight.

Mum smiled. 'Don't worry so much. It will all be sorted out.'

'They said they'll tell Doreen for me,' Mrs. Burgoyne said. She sat back and began twisting a handkerchief around in he hands, stretching it so hard that Kathryn was sure it would tear in half any minute.

Mum looked puzzled. 'Who? The police? Why do they have to tell Doreen?'

'He is her father, or was.' Mrs. Burgoyne began to cry again and Mum stood up to wrap her arms around her shoulders.

'My God, Cassie, what's happened to Roy?'

Mrs. Burgoyne turned slowly to look at Mum. 'He got hit by a car coming home from the pub tonight. Pissed as a fart. I thought drunks weren't supposed to get hurt. But he did. He's dead. How could he do it to us?'

Everyone started to cry. Through her tears, Kathryn saw that even her father had a bit of moistness in his eyes, although he wasn't drunk. She didn't know why, but Dad hadn't gone out tonight. Having him home in the evening was wonderful. They played Monopoly and sat down to watch The Honeymooners together, laughing out loud. Now, what had been the best night she'd had for a long time had turned into a nasty and horrible one.

'I expect he'll be in the morgue at the hospital. I'll come over first thing in the morning and wait till the police get here,' Mum said.

Mrs. Burgoyne began to wail again. The noise sounded like Laddie did once when he heard a siren going up the road. Kathryn wanted to put her fingers in her ears, but when she saw Jane's face all she could do was wrap her arms around her friend and hang on.

Chapter Sixteen

August 1957

Stuff the housework, Polly thought, glancing around her quiet lounge room. The open fire glowed, crackling and sizzling from the coal and logs. Using logs on the open fire had been strange at first, when they'd always used coal. Now they had to buy coal, they didn't use it as much. Getting timber from one of the local men who had taken advantage of the current situation and set himself up in business delivering wood provided an easier option.

Smoke from the fire left darkened patches on the cream walls. A good cleaning was definitely needed; she'd do it tomorrow. Bending down, she grabbed the poker and prodded at the embers, watching the flames shoot up again. She liked to stoke up the fire in this room in the cold weather, holding her hands close to the flames, so she could warm them. Then her fingers would fly over the ivory piano keys.

Every day she played for several hours. What was it Chip said? Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast. She thought it was a ridiculous saying at the time; now she realised how much truth was in it, because the music calmed her and helped her forget how lonely she felt.

Missing her mother, Johnny, Bobby and Rachel was hard to take, but it was especially hurtful to think about little Mervyn. Rachel wrote regular letters and enclosed photos in them, but that couldn't take the place of being with him, hearing him giggle, say his first words, and spit out the boiled spinach his mother tried to get him to eat. Polly didn't allow herself to think about Johnnie and Joanie, because that became too painful. She knew her first-born grandchildren would be strangers to her the next time she saw them, if she ever didShe moved to the piano stool, opened the seat and began to look through her sheet music. She was starting to get together a collection of more modern songs. Picking up two recent purchases, Twelfth of Never and Love Letters in the Sand, she stared at the covers depicting the handsome American singers, Johnny Mathis and Pat Boone. No doubt they were beautiful songs sung by beautiful men, nevertheless today she didn't feel like playing them. They were about love. That was something for the younger ones. She thought her deep feelings for Chip would last forever, but they hadn't. Maybe this growing gap she sensed between them was normal for couples in middle age. Whatever it was, she didn't like it.

After storing the sheet music back into the stool, Polly grabbed a dog-eared piece, placing it on the rack, ready to play. She shrugged. So what if Forever and Ever was another love song? The familiar tune held special memories for her. It was the song Chip serenaded her with when he finally gave her an eternity ring back in 1950. Maybe if she played it, then she would stop feeling so sorry for herself and get on with it. She was a Phillips, after all.

While humming along with the first few lines she heard someone knocking on the back door. It had to be family; door-to-door salesman and Judge Rutherford's people always came to the front. Visitors were rare nowadays. Too busy looking after Fred, Lil rarely left her home, and Maggie had recently joined the Golf Club, a hobby taking up much of her time. Patting her hair to make sure it looked tidy, Polly hurried through the house to open the kitchen door. Cassie stood on the landing, looking surprisingly calm.

'Come in.' Polly opened the door, ushering her neighbour into the cold kitchen. 'Come through into the front room. I've got the fire going.'

With Cassie following her through the house, Polly realised she felt excited at the fact she actually had someone to talk to. Even her over-the-fence chats with Cassie weren't happening anymore. As she directed the younger woman towards the three-seater lounge, Polly silently vowed she would change her ways and mingle with her neighbours more, especially Cassie. They'd developed a bit of a bond over the past months.

'Can I get you a cup of tea?' she asked, smiling towards the unusually quiet woman who hadn't sat down but was standing staring into the fire.

Cassie shook her head. 'I've had some news and I wanted to tell you first. You've been a good friend, especially helping me when Roy died.' Her voice caught as she spoke about her husband, but she didn't cry, the unshed tears creating a thickening in the air around them.

Recognising her own vulnerability, Polly took a deep breath making sure she held herself together. Normally Cassie would collapse into a hysterical state whenever anything emotional would arise, but the woman before her was a new Cassie.

Polly looked more closely at her neighbour, trying to work out what was going on. There was definitely something different about Cassie today. She appeared better dressed than usual, in a lovely grey suit and white blouse and her fair hair was pulled back into a French roll. Polly couldn't help wondering if Roy had an insurance policy. She dismissed that thought as soon as it entered her head. Cassie would be excited if she'd had news about money, but she seemed more subdued than agitated.

Polly sat down on the flowered fabric lounge and patted the place beside her. 'What's your news?' she asked as Cassie joined her.

'I'm a grandmother,' Cassie blurted, touching Polly briefly on the arm.

'I didn't think the baby was due for a few weeks yet,' Polly said. 'Is everything all right? Doreen? The baby?'

Cassie nodded, a warm smile lighting her face. 'She was early, little Cassandra Anne, but both her and Doreen are okay, nothing wrong. I got the telegram yesterday from my sister. They'll stay in hospital till the baby gets a bit stronger. From what I've been told the baby's eating real good.'

'I'm so pleased for you, Cassie. It must have been hard when Doreen didn't want to come to her father's funeral.' Polly reached over and took both Cassie's hands in hers, giving them a squeeze.

Expecting that Cassie would dissolve into tears, or at least show some sort of emotional response at her blunt comment, Polly was taken aback when Cassie smiled and shook her head again. 'I don't blame her. Our home was never a happy place and even though I miss him, I'm much happier now that Roy's gone.'

Polly felt her mouth drop open. Quickly closing it, she swallowed hard, trying to digest this information. Cassie had always been so dependent on her husband. Polly thought she would be picking up the pieces for weeks, even months to come. And, she realised, she'd been looking forward to being needed. It would have given her a purpose, to be able to be there for Cassie and her family. If she was completely honest, she hoped it would happen because being strong for others could have helped her become strong in her own environment. Roy had been dead for little more than three weeks and Cassie seemed a new woman: a more determined, capable woman. For a moment an overwhelming surge of jealousy flooded through Polly's body. How could Cassie become the tough one?

'I said, could you feed the geese for me?' Cassie's voice penetrated through Polly's foggy brain.

'I'm sorry. I was miles away,' Polly said. 'Did you say you were going to visit your new granddaughter?'

Cassie nodded. 'I'm taking Jane on the train tomorrow. She'll miss school for a couple of days. I'll be back on Friday. Can you feed the geese for me? I've got someone interested in taking them when I get back. They were Roy's, not mine.'

'You got lots of eggs from them, didn't you?' Polly felt a little uneasy. Cassie was too quiet, too composed.

'I'm here to tell you something else.' Cassie looked away into the fire.

Polly waited for what seemed forever before she spoke again. 'Cassie? What is it?'

'I'm taking Jane down to Sydney tomorrow so we can look at schools near my sister. I'm selling the house here in Merthyr Vale and moving to Sydney in a couple of weeks. Doreen is keeping the baby.' An almost defiant expression on her face, Cassie turned to look at Polly.

'I think that's wonderful news,' Polly exclaimed. 'Not about you moving, but about the baby. I couldn't imagine living, knowing I'd lost contact with a child of mine. But Cassie, you've been next door here since Chip built this house. It'll be a big step for you. Have you thought everything through?'

Cassie nodded. 'I've been thinking about wanting to move to Sydney ever since Doreen left. It's not right that I'm away from my daughter and new granddaughter. And Doreen wants to start a new life down there.'

'How's Jane taking it?' Thinking about her daughter and how she was going to accept this news made Polly inwardly shudder. Kathryn and Jane had played together, been friends ever since they were little tots.

'Jane doesn't want to leave. She's cried all night, but she has to do as she's told. She'll get used to it. She'll be in High School next year anyway, and will meet lots of new friends. She only has to put up with the primary school for a few months.'

'Why don't you wait till the Christmas school holidays to leave?'

'I have to go soon. I'm strong now. I have to keep strong.' Cassie gritted her teeth as she spoke, allowing Polly to see that the show of serenity the younger woman displayed was pure front; there was no substance at all to her facade. 'My sister Charlotte wants us to move in with her. Her husband was killed in the Korean War, you know. She's on her own. She wants us to stay.'

'Oh, Cassie, I'm sure you're doing the right thing.' Polly put her arms around her neighbour and gave her a quick hug. 'I'll miss you and I know Kathryn is going to be crying her eyes out. But you have to do the best to keep your family together.'

'You must be missing your sons and grandson,' Cassie said, drawing away to look in Polly's eyes.

'Of course, I am. But I still have Chip and Kathryn and Jill and Charlie,' Polly said brightly. 'Life goes on, doesn't it?' She bit her lip when she saw the tears forming in Cassie's eyes. That was a stupid thing to say. Roy had just passed away. 'Are you sure you wouldn't like a cuppa?'

Cassie shook her head. 'I have a lot to do before I leave. I'd better get back to it.'

Polly got to her feet to see Cassie out. 'I could come over and help you,' she offered.

'Not yet,' Cassie said. 'When I get back from Sydney I'll probably need some help.' She moved to the doorway. 'Don't leave your warm fire. I'll see myself out.'

Polly lifted her hand in a half-wave. She tried to smile but the best she could do was manage 'Good luck.'

The deep uneasiness returned to Polly's belly. It was like hunger, an unsettling gnawing that pushed her to do something, but she didn't know what. Turning towards the piano, she picked up Forever and Ever and placed it in the bottom of the piano stool. It didn't take long to find Auld Lang Syne and she began to play the familiar tune. Fighting the bitter tears that wanted to leave her constricted throat and stream down her face, she threw the piece of music on the floor before she finished with it and began banging out a song she knew well and had always hated: I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts

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The appetising aroma from the lamb shank casserole filled the kitchen and wafted into the dining room where Polly was setting the table for tea. She didn't know why she bothered. It was a habit she'd grown into over the years of waiting on her coal miner husband and sons. Their hot meal was always ready for them by twenty past three.

The familiar clanging of the school bell sounded. Kathryn would be home soon. Heaven only knows if Chip would come home at four or five, or ten when the pubs closed. Polly slammed the knives and forks onto the table and hurried up the hall to go out the door to meet her daughter by the front gate. She'd eat at five. That suited her. It was about time she did what she wanted.

A couple of boys rode past on bicycles, just as Kathryn reached the school gate.

'Kathryn Carpenter goes with Kevin Sanders,' one of them called out in a singsong voice.

Polly squinted her eyes against the glare of the afternoon sun and homed in on her daughter. Poking out her developing chest, Kathryn smiled at the boys and lifted her hand to wave. Then she noticed her mother waiting across the road. Immediately, she lowered her hand and her head, blushing bright red as she did so.

Polly turned her gaze towards the boys pedalling east down the street, wondering if either of them was Kevin Sanders. One of the boys had a sort of auburn glow to his hair, not the carroty hue of Bluey Sanders, but close enough to be a relative. If that was Bluey Sanders son, then she'd be wrapping her daughter in cotton wool. Not only was Bluey Sanders a pisspot, he also liked to belt the hell out of his wife and anyone else who was around when he was drunk. And that happened quite often. Chip thought it was amusing to tell her stories of Bluey's escapades, but Polly couldn't see anything funny in them anymore. She'd learned the hard way that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and she was going to make sure Kathryn learnt that fact.

'What are you doing waiting for me, Mum?' Kathryn ran across the road and down the short slope to where her mother remained inside the gate.

'It seems I should be waiting for you more often,' Polly said, opening the gate to let her daughter in. 'Who's Kevin Sanders when he's at home?'

Her face turning even pinker, Kathryn put her head down. 'No one special. Just a boy in my class.'

'Where's Jane?' Polly asked, deciding to change the subject. After all, she'd come to meet her daughter to find out how upset she was about Jane's leaving. Not very, by the look of it. Kathryn was still peeping towards where the boys had headed. They were out of sight, but Polly doubted they were out of Kathryn's mind.

Her daughter shrugged. 'She's been acting funny all day. She didn't want to play anything, not even Fly or basketball practice. I don't know what she's doing. I think she's talking to Mr Bunn.'

'The headmaster?' Polly didn't need Kathryn to answer. Jane was probably talking to her teacher, Mr. Bunn, who was also the headmaster, about how worried she was at going to a new school.

They'd reached the front door and instead of letting Kathryn continue down the hallway into her bedroom Polly guided her daughter towards the lounge room. 'Sit down,' she said, indicating one of the lounge chairs.

She pulled the piano stool forward so that she was sitting opposite Kathryn.

'I didn't kiss him or anything,' Kathryn blurted nervously.

'I hope not,' Polly said, shaking her head. 'You're much too young to be interested in boys. And you need to look at the family before you start choosing a boyfriend.'

'You sound like Nana.' Folding her arms, Kathryn gazed accusingly at her mother.

'Sometimes your Nana was wise,' Polly said. 'But that's not what I want to talk about.'

'Is it Peyton Place?' Kathryn sounded more and more panicked as they sat facing each other.

'What's Peyton Place or is it the name of one of your film stars?' Polly felt exasperated. She wanted to console Kathryn, but her daughter wouldn't allow her to get close enough to help her.

A puzzled expression on her face, Kathryn shook her head. 'Mum, am I in trouble?'

Polly sighed. 'I'm trying to tell you something. I thought you'd already know and I wanted to help you, because I know you're going to be upset at the news.'

Terror replaced the bamboozled look on Kathryn's face. Leaning forward, she clutched her mother's hands. 'Has something happened to Dad?'

'No, and the rest of the family is okay as far as I know.' Polly squeezed her daughter's hand. 'There's no other way to tell you. Jane is going to Sydney tomorrow.'

Smiling, Kathryn relaxed back into the padded chair. 'Is that all, Mum? I already know. Jane acted really cranky all day today, but she did talk to me long enough to tell me she's having a couple of days off school. Doreen's had a baby girl. Jane's an auntie now like me.'

'Oh, Kathryn, I wish it was that simple.' Letting go of her daughter's hands, Polly stood, walked over to where the sheet music lay on the floor and picked it up. 'Remember how I played Auld Lang Syne when Bobby and Rachel were leaving?' she said, holding the music up so her daughter could see it.

Kathryn nodded, though Polly could see her daughter still felt confused by the conversation they were having.

'Auld Lang Syne is a special song, because it tells you to remember your friends always. And it's important to keep close to our friends and family.' Polly placed the music on the piano rack and moved to sit down again near Kathryn, taking her hands in hers. There was no other way. She had to come out with it. 'Jane is leaving in a few weeks. She's going to Sydney to live.'

'No!' Kathryn yelled, jumping to her feet. With her hands on her hips she faced her mother. 'You're a liar. Jane's my friend. She would have told me. I hate you!'

Polly reached out and grabbed the rigid body of her daughter, enfolding her in her arms. "I'm sorry. I know how you must be feeling.'

Kathryn pushed her mother away. Tears coursed down her angry face, the tormented expression making her features almost ugly. 'No, you don't!' she shouted. 'You don't know how I feel. You don't even have a best friend. I'm going to see Jane. She doesn't tell lies. You'll see.'

Watching helplessly, Polly stood alone in her favourite room as her only daughter rushed up the hallway and out the front door. She did know how Kathryn must be feeling. Every day Polly spent hours thinking about her loved ones and how she grieved for them; how she wished she could have time back with them again, to tell them how much she loved them. The saddest thing of all was that Chip lived with her, but she longed for him most, for the love they once shared, the times they used to enjoy. She sank into an armchair. How could she help her daughter when she didn't know how to help herself?

Chapter Seventeen

August 1957

How could her mother be so cruel? Feeding her lies like that! With her heart thudding in her chest, Kathryn jogged across the dirt footpath heading towards Burgoyne's front yard. She'd never been so mad in her life. She clenched her trembling hands hard against her legs. However furious she was, she shouldn't have said she hated her mother. She'd never done anything like that before. But Mum deserved it. Telling her daughter that her very best friend was going to leave was horrible. Kathryn couldn't forgive her for that.

Brushing the angry tears from her face, Kathryn knocked on Jane's unpainted front door, at the same time kicking impatiently at the rough coir mat on the veranda. She usually went to the back door and called out to her friend, but today was special. She needed to find out if her mother told the truth. And she needed to find out fast.

After opening the door a couple of inches, Jane peeped around it. She didn't seem to be able to look Kathryn in the face and Kathryn's legs started to wobble like jelly. Inside her head, Kathryn argued with herself. Did Mum tell the truth? No, Jane was her best friend. She would always let Kathryn know if she intended to do something different, especially something that would affect the rest of their lives. They talked everything over.

'Jane, I came over to see why you went to see Mr. Bunn.' Kathryn was fibbing, but she didn't care. Now she stood near Jane she didn't want to ask the question that bothered her. She was scared of the answer, especially now when she'd seen Jane's face and the sad look in her eyes.

Jane moved away from the doorway to let her friend into the lounge room. 'Mum's cooking tea. We can go into my bedroom if you like.'

Her belly churning, Kathryn followed Jane from the lounge room into the small room that held a double bed and an old wardrobe. There wasn't anything else in the room: no mirror to look into, no dressing table nor even a place for books. Kathryn looked around. Jane didn't invite Kathryn into her bedroom often. In the past it had been because she shared it with her sister Doreen, but Kathryn suspected it might be because it wasn't very nice. Lining boards formed the walls and ceiling. They were painted a pretty pale green colour, but she preferred her own fibro-lined bedroom. Dad just finished painting it pink. Now everything was the same colour, her pink chenille bedspread matched her grey carpet with big pink roses on it. Jane's room was plain with brown felt carpet on the floor. Kathryn couldn't imagine two girls being together in such a small space. No wonder Jane seemed so pleased to have the room to herself now.

'Are you moving away, Jane?' They'd barely sat down on the patchwork homemade eiderdown before Kathryn blurted out the question that had been going round and round in her brain.

Nodding slightly, Jane dropped her gaze towards her bed. 'We're probably going next month. Mum's going to leave this house empty.' Tears glistened in her eyes, making her long eyelashes spiky.

'I don't want you to go.' Kathryn clenched her fists so hard she could feel her nails biting into her soft hands. 'It's not fair.'

Jane shook her head. 'I don't want to go either, but Mum's made up her mind.'

'You could run away.' Kathryn looked at Jane hopefully, wanting her friend to follow through with her idea. 'We could meet up with each other and live together.'

Grabbing her soft-bodied doll from her pillow, Jane cuddled it against her chest. 'They'd get the police after us. And, besides, we're too young to get a job. How would we buy food?'

'We could get help from the Salvation Army or someone.' Kathryn knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn't stop trying to think of an answer, some way to solve their problem. There had to be a way. Jane had given in too easily.

Kathryn felt as though Jane was pleased to be leaving. Sometimes people weren't nice; they disappointed her. Mum hardly talked to her anymore and now Mrs. Burgoyne was taking her best friend away. And to make it worse, Jane seemed as though she wanted to go. Kathryn would have no one left to talk to.

'And where would we live?' Jane stared at Kathryn, a serious expression on her face. 'Even the Salvation Army would make us go back home. It's not as though our parents beat us or anything.'

'Why are you arguing? Don't you want us to stay together?' Kathryn stood, hot tears beginning to run down her cold face. 'You've got to tell your mother you're not going. You could come and live with me. We've got a big empty room at the back and my bedroom's plenty big enough to fit another bed in it.'

'You know I can't. I have to stay with my family.' Jane threw herself sideways onto the bed and curled her knees up to her chest. She was squashing the doll hard against her body. Jane holding the baby doll made Kathryn think about Doreen's baby and she knew she had a really good argument.

'You'll have to look after Doreen's baby all the time. You won't be able to do the things you want. You'll have no friends to play with. You won't know anyone at school. You won't be able to go to the pictures or anything.' For some reason Kathryn wanted to hurt her friend, but she knew the words she used weren't enough. Glaring down at Jane and waiting for her to answer, Kathryn clenched her hands, stopping herself from slapping and pinching the other girl.

'Why did you say that?' Now Jane was crying too. 'You're mean, Kathryn Carpenter. I don't care if I never see you ever, ever again.' Jane got to her feet, threw her doll onto the floor and stared fiercely at Kathryn.

Turning, Kathryn headed to the door. 'I don't care either, Jane Burgoyne. I'll get another friend. And you won't!' she said over her shoulder.

After running out of Jane's house and up the path Kathryn hurried across the footpath to her front gate where Laddie waited, wagging his stumpy tail. Slumping to her knees, Kathryn wrapped her arms around the dog's neck, allowing him to lick the salty tears from her face.

'Laddie, you're beautiful,' she said, hugging her pet. 'You're a good friend; you won't leave me, like Jane is going to do.'

As though he understood what she was going through, Laddie stopped licking and nuzzled his head under her arm. Absently Kathryn patted his downy head. He was the best dog in the whole world, she knew that, but he wasn't Jane.

What was going to happen now? Who would she play with, skip with, talk about boys with, go to the pictures with? Tears began to trickle down her face again. She didn't know what she was going to do. And to make matters worse, besides saying horrible things to Jane, Kathryn had been nasty to her mother and now she didn't know where to go. She didn't want to face her mother or Jane again. Not today.

'Kathryn, come inside. Your dinner's going cold.' Mum stood on the front steps calling to her. She didn't look too cranky, so Kathryn got to her feet, wiped her nose with the back of her hand and calling Laddie to go with her, opened the gate and went into her yard.

*********************************************************************

'Do you want to play Fly, Jenny?' Kathryn stood in the middle of the school playground near the marked basketball area, sticks clutched in her hand, ready to win at her favourite game. Usually most of the girls were eager to play with her, so she was surprised when Jenny Siddell shook her head.

'I'm goal shooter with a basketball team in Westridge this week. I need to practice my goal shooting,' Jenny said.

Disappointed, Kathryn kept quiet for a few minutes. If she couldn't have Jane for a friend, then Jenny Siddell was her next choice, but it looked as though she'd have to do what Jenny wanted for a while.

'They play basketball in a different way in America,' Kathryn said, trying to impress Jenny with her knowledge.

Holding the ball in her hands, Jenny stopped shooting at the hoops to look at her. 'What do you mean?'

Kathryn smiled. 'Don't you ever go to the pictures or watch TV?' She knew that was a bit nasty, because she'd never seen Jenny at the pictures and Kathryn didn't think Jenny owned a television yet. She wasn't surprised when Jenny shook her head. 'They're allowed to run with the ball and do all sorts of different stuff. Of course,' she continued, folding her arms, 'the Harlem Globetrotters are the best basketball players in the whole world. But they don't play the same as us either.'

'Who?'

Kathryn felt pleased that Jenny didn't have a clue. 'They're black men and they're very funny the way they throw the ball around and do tricks. They can get the ball into the hoop from the other end of the court.

'That's not allowed,' Jenny said, obviously losing interest as she turned back to throw the ball.

'Do you want me to help you?' Feeling a little deflated, Kathryn realised Jenny wasn't amazed at her exceptional knowledge.

Smiling, Jenny pointed to the ball on the sideline of the basketball court. 'You could pass it back to me after I throw it through the hoop.'

That didn't sound like too much fun, but Kathryn positioned herself behind the goal circle ready to fetch the ball. She watched Jenny line the ball up, ready to shoot. Jenny wasn't exactly ugly with her freckled face and brown hair, but she was nowhere as pretty as Jane. Kathryn wasn't going to think about Jane anymore. She'd be back in a few days, but it was time to find a new best friend, someone to count on, and someone who wouldn't move away.

'Good shot!' Kathryn called when Jenny almost got the ball in. 'Can I have a turn?'

Jenny was agreeable, so Kathryn lined up the ball, putting it through the hoop on her first attempt.

'Why don't you come with me on Saturday to try out for the team?' Jenny said, grabbing Kathryn's arm. 'The season's nearly over but we can always use a reserve. And we could definitely use another good goalie.

'I don't know. We don't have a car. I don't know if Mum will let me go to Westridge on the bus.' Kathryn didn't like sport, but now she wanted to go with Jenny. Making a new friend was important. If Jenny would let Kathryn be her best friend then that would make Jane's leaving a bit easier to put up with.

'That's nothing to worry about. My Mum drives me there, goes shopping, then picks me up and brings me home. I'm sure she'll take you too.'

For the rest of the day Kathryn's mind buzzed with her new friend. It seemed exciting, having different things to do. She couldn't wait to get home to ask her mother about going with Mrs Siddell to Westridge.

'Mum!' she called as she reached the back door. She could see her mother in the kitchen starting to get their food ready for tea. 'Can I go to Westridge on Saturday with Mrs. Siddell?'

'Mrs Siddell?' Mum screwed up her face as though she'd tasted something nasty.

Kathryn nodded. 'Jenny's Mum. She drives her own car.'

'There's no way you're going anywhere with that strumpet!' Mum said, banging a saucepan onto the cupboard top.

'Why not?' Kathryn choked back the tears. All day she'd been looking forward to trying something new. Now Mum acted strange, calling Mrs. Siddell names. Kathryn had never seen Mum talking to Mrs. Siddell, so how would she know bad things about her? 'I won't have any friends. Jane's going soon and I'll be all alone. Don't you care?'

'What's going on?' The back door opened and Dad came in, placing his workbag on the floor.

'Mum won't let me go with Mrs Siddell,' Kathryn complained, turning her pleading eyes towards her father.

'Go where?' Dad said.

Mum started rattling all the saucepans around, as though she was really busy. 'You're home early for a change,' she said.

Dad didn't take any notice of what Mum said, instead turning towards Kathryn. 'Where is it you want to go?' he asked.

'Jenny Siddell's asked me to try out for a basketball team on Saturday, but I need to go to Westridge. Her Mum will pick me up, Jenny said.' Kathryn looked from her father to her mother. Even though Mum looked cranky, Kathryn knew she would do what Dad said. Her best bet was to get Dad on her side. 'Jane is moving away and I haven't got a best friend anymore,' she said, screwing up her face and allowing a few tears to escape down her face.

'She's not going with that woman,' Mum said to no one in particular. She had her lips clamped together and Kathryn knew she wasn't going to give in.

'I think Kathryn's old enough to go on the bus,' Dad said.

Excited at her father's answer, Kathryn wanted to jump up and down and clap her hands, but she stopped herself. She didn't want to upset her mother. Mum hadn't said anything yet, although she knew Mum would let her go now, because Dad had come up with another plan. Mum didn't like to say no to her, and she especially didn't like to say no to Dad, when he'd made up his mind.

'What time does this basketball finish?' Mum said, folding her arms.

Feeling as though Mum was starting to change her mind, Kathryn smiled. 'Jenny said it finishes at half past four.'

Mum frowned. 'You might miss the five bus and then you'll have to wait till six before there's another one. It'll be getting dark. I'm not letting you wander around at that time of the afternoon.'

Kathryn stamped her foot; sometimes Mum behaved horribly. 'I want to go to the basketball,' she cried, grabbing hold of her father's arm.

'There's no need to cry,' Dad said. 'You can go on the bus and I'll meet you at the park at half past four and we'll come home together.'

'Oh, thank you, Dad.' Kathryn reached up and kissed her father's cheek. Showing affection was something she didn't usually do, but she could see he felt pleased.

'Well, you'd better be there for her,' Mum said, before turning back to the kitchen cupboard top where she began to chop vegetables.

'Of course I will. What kind of a father do you take me for?' Dad winked at Kathryn, before picking up his bag to take it through to the front bedroom.

Pleased that she'd won, Kathryn ran into her room to lie on her bed and read her latest Phantom comic. Now when Jane left for good she would have another friend. It wouldn't be quite the same. Jane continued to be the best ever, but Kathryn had learned that sometimes she had to make the best of whatever happened.

She heard Dad go back out into the kitchen.

'She's calling herself Missus now,' Mum said to Dad. 'She turns up in town with a child fathered by God knows who, then gets rid of babies for anyone who goes to her. I don't like Kathryn having anything to do with her daughter.'

'Having a baby out of wedlock isn't the worst thing Ronnie Siddell could have done. As far as the other, you can't blame the girl for the sins of her mother,' Dad said. 'She's probably a nice kid. Anyway, it's only a few more months and Kathryn will be starting to think about high school. She'll meet lots of new friends there. For the time being, we can let her go out with Ronnie Siddell's daughter. I'm sure she'll come to no harm.'

There was silence for a few minutes. Kathryn held her breath and whispered a little prayer, hoping that there was someone up there in heaven listening. She didn't want her parents to start arguing. They used to speak softly to one another, while lately all she seemed to hear were words that were so sharp Kathryn felt they were stabbing her. And the worst culprit was her mother.

'I didn't expect to see you this early,' Mum said. Her voice still sounded cranky.

'I'm going to turn the back garden soil over. I've got a load of manure coming at the weekend,' Dad said. 'It'll be spring in a few weeks and I want to get a crop of vegetables in.'

The back screen door closed. Now all Kathryn could hear was her mother moving saucepans around, so she picked up her comic eager to read about The Ghost Who Walked.

*********************************************************************

'Kathryn, Mrs. Burgoyne came home last night. I'd like you to take some soup over to her before school,' Mum called.

Kathryn knew Mum had made soup, because the delicious smell filled the house. But she had no idea Jane had arrived home, even though she'd been looking through her bedroom window, hoping to see some kind of movement next door. Now little tickles ran up and down her back and she was sure her hair stood on end. Jane was home. It was the best news ever. She grinned at her mother. 'Where is it? Can I go now?'

Mum nodded at her, her eyes twinkling. 'Be careful. It's not too hot, but go slowly so you don't spill it.'

With the large aluminium pot clutched in her hands, Kathryn headed next door. It was hard to stop herself from jigging on the spot and spilling the soup. If Jane wanted to go to the pictures tomorrow, then Jenny Siddell could go to the basketball game without her. She'd much rather go somewhere with Jane. Besides, the Roxy was going to close at the end of next month; they were going to turn it into a roller skating rink. Television might be okay, but Kathryn knew she would miss the weekly pictures, and it would be wonderful to go one last time with Jane.

After placing the pot of soup carefully at her feet on the rickety front veranda, Kathryn knocked on Burgoyne's door.

Almost immediately Mrs. Burgoyne opened the door and smiled at her. 'Hello, Kathryn. What's your mother been up to now?'

Disappointed that Jane hadn't answered, Kathryn craned her neck to see where her best ever friend was. 'She sent some soup,'

'Tell your mother her blood's worth bottling.' Mrs. Burgoyne bent down and picked up the pot. 'I'll bring the saucepan over later today.'

Kathryn frowned. 'Where's Jane? Isn't she coming to school today?'

Mrs. Burgoyne gave her a funny look, as though she felt sad for her. 'I'm sorry, Kathryn. Jane stopped in Sydney. We've decided to move there right away. I'm going back on Monday.'

'No!' Kathryn could feel the yell come from deep within her belly. She turned away from Mrs. Burgoyne and ran towards home. Her insides felt really cold, but even though she wanted to, she couldn't cry. She'd said horrible things to Jane and now she was gone. Kathryn would never see her best friend again. Thoughts of Pastor Anderson came into her mind. He'd talked about nasty people not making it to heaven. She certainly wouldn't, not until she had the chance to talk to Jane again and make things right.

'Mum!' she called as she ran into the house. 'You've got to help me before I end up going to hell.'

'What on earth's wrong with you?' Mum had Laddie's water bowl in her hand and was heading towards the back door.

'I was horrible to Jane. And now she's not coming back. I have to fix it.' The tears that she thought were going to choke her because they were bottled up inside, started streaming down Kathryn's face.

Mum put the bowl on the cupboard, took Kathryn's arm and guided her to the table. 'Sit,' she ordered.

Kathryn did as she was told, laying her head on the table, her arms folded under it.

Mum went into her bedroom and came back with some writing paper and a fountain pen. 'Sit up,' she said, placing the pretty flowered paper in front of Kathryn. 'Now, you're always reading and you like to write stories, so write a letter to Jane and tell her how much you love her and miss her. I'll give it to Cassie later today for her to give to Jane.'

Sniffing, Kathryn wiped her nose with her hankie. 'Thanks, Mum.'

'Don't take all day now. You have to be at school in an hour,' Mum said, before picking up Laddie's bowl and heading out the back door

With the end of the pen held in her mouth, Kathryn watched her mother walk away. Sometimes Mum did really special things. She didn't make a fuss; she just did them. Kathryn wished the good feeling she had inside her at that moment would last forever. A peculiar sensation prickling her scalp made her think that something terrible was going to happen. What could happen? Mum and Dad weren't old enough to die like Nana. And Charlie wasn't going to move away. She shook her head. Thinking like that was silly. Removing the lid from the fountain pen, she started writing.

*********************************************************************

'Are you sure you don't want to come home with us?' Mrs. Siddell looked at Kathryn, a slight frown on her face.

Kathryn wasn't sure what to say. She didn't want Mrs. Siddell to get cranky with her, but Mum had been definite that she shouldn't go anywhere with "that woman". 'I'm sure Dad will be here soon,' she said.

'Do you have bus money?' Mrs. Siddell took out her change purse, opening it as she spoke.

Kathryn shook her head. 'No, Dad is going to pay for me.'

Jenny's mother pushed some coins into her hand. 'That should cover your fare. I'd head down to the bus stop and wait for your father there.'

Kathryn smiled her thanks to Mrs. Siddell. She couldn't understand why her mother thought she was so horrible. 'See you Monday, Jenny,' she said, giving her friend a wave.

Jingling the coins in her hand, Kathryn watched them drive away. Now she felt as though she was truly alone. A couple of stragglers from the basketball game were giggling and playfully pushing at each other as they crossed the park. She wanted to call out to the girls, to try to get them to stay and talk to her, when they grabbed their pushbikes leaning against the fence and pedalled off.

The bus stop was on the main street of Westridge. To get there it would take her about five minutes, straight down the road from where she stood. She looked at her watch. The bus was due in twenty minutes. What should she do? There was no sign of her father.

Determined she would look as though she knew what she was doing, Kathryn hurried to a bench on the western side of the park, closer to the main street. She sat down and counted her money. Mrs. Siddell had given her two shillings and sixpence. It was more than enough to pay her fare. The sixpence was old and battered with a likeness of King George on it. She looked at the dates on the silver coins, the pictures of Queen Elizabeth, and then screwed up her eyes to read the writing around the outside. It was hard to make out the words. She peered at the sky. The sun was starting to disappear behind the trees. Getting to her feet, she walked to the edge of the road and looked both ways. No Dad. Her watch told her it was three minutes since she'd last looked.

Her belly shaking like a bowl of jelly, Kathryn began to walk to the bus stop, all the while silently chanting a prayer over and over. Please God; let Dad be waiting for me. Dusk had never been her favourite time of day. The sun sinking in the west always made her feel sad. Sometimes she shed a few tears as the final orange glow vanished behind the hills. She had no idea why she cried, but today, when a few tears trickled down her cheeks, there was no mystery. She felt frightened, really scared. Westridge seemed a strange place. There were lots more people around than in Merthyr Vale. In her hometown she knew most of the people by sight, but here she hardly knew a soul.

The bus depot sat almost at the end of the road. All she had to do was cross the main street and she was there. She made it with twelve minutes to spare. Nervously she counted her money again, before peering both ways up the street, desperate to see her father. There weren't many people around, but cars and pushbikes going up and down the street kept her occupied as she counted how many white cars there were.

One white car she noticed drove slowly up to the corner, turned around, and came back. Then, strangely, it did it again. Butterflies scrambled around in Kathryn belly, and the weird tingling on her scalp came back. She had no real reason to be so scared, but she was.

Straining her eyes, she peered in both directions, searching for her father. When the car stopped in the bus stop right in front of her and a man leant out, she glanced at him before quickly looking away. He kept staring at her, and when she looked back at him, he seemed familiar.

'Are you waiting for someone? I'll take you to find her, if you like.' His voice sounded pleasant when he spoke.

Relieved at the stranger's friendliness, Kathryn smiled. 'Thank you, I'm catching the bus.'

The man leaned his arm on the window ledge. 'Didn't you know? There's been a bus strike. No buses tonight.'

Kathryn took a step towards him. She didn't know what to do. Should she accept a ride? She knew the trains didn't run this late. How was she going to get home? Searching her brain, she tried to remember where she'd seen this friendly man before. The stranger leaned further out of the car and she saw his wrist. A terrible devil's face leered at her. She remembered where she'd seen it before. She began to yell.

Chapter Eighteen

August 1957

Worry, with its gut-wrenching irritation, gnawed at Polly's insides. It had been over twenty minutes since she'd watched the half past five bus from Westridge go down the main road. But although she'd waited, looking towards the bus stop, there had been no sign of Kathryn or Chip. From the time when her daughter left after an early lunch, Polly kept busy lending a hand to Cassie, who was packing ready to move. That helped pass the time, while now she couldn't stop the niggling feeling chewing away at her belly.

Polly hadn't allowed Kathryn go out of Merthyr Vale by herself before. She talked her concerns over with Cassie, who told her she needed to cut the apron strings, that Kathryn would be going out of town to high school next February. Cassie's argument sounded reasonable at the time, but now she was alone and had time to think, she realised Cassie probably wasn't the best person to take advice from. Her track record as a mother certainly wasn't perfect.

Too agitated to stay indoors, Polly turned off the beef stew cooking on the stove and grabbing a light cardigan from her bedroom, headed out the front door. Now that it was starting to get dark Chip and Kathryn would most likely walk along the front footpath; the back lane was more uneven and not well lit. Noticing Chip had left a gardening trowel in the garden, she picked it up and starting poking around the rose bushes. That should keep her occupied, stop the senseless worry. A small red car turned into the street near Weston's on the corner and attracted her attention. Polly didn't recognise it. She thought it would pull up at one of her neighbour's houses, but it continued slowly on, stopping in front of her house. Ronnie Siddell drove it. Every hair on Polly's body stood on end. How dare that woman come near her after what she'd done to Betty and Johnny?

'What do you want?' she demanded as the car drove onto the footpath to stop right near her front gate. Polly hated bad manners, but this woman didn't deserve common courtesy.

Ronnie Siddell didn't say anything, instead pointing behind her. Shocked at what she saw, Polly couldn't move for a moment, her legs glued to the ground. Kathryn sat in the back seat, near a freckle-faced girl who Polly assumed must be Ronnie's daughter. With her heart feeling as though it had torn apart, Polly stared at Kathryn. She'd been crying but that wasn't what affected Polly. Kathryn's face displayed a look of total abandonment, something Polly never dreamt she would see on her beloved daughter's face. Maybe she couldn't protect her sons forever but Kathryn? Polly would fight for her daughter's welfare while she drew breath.

'What's happened? Is Kathryn hurt?' Polly rushed to the car, opening the door. 'Kathryn, come inside,' she said, pulling at her daughter's arm.

Kathryn turned towards her mother. 'Mum,' she said. 'I'm all right now. Don't worry.'

'Kathryn, you need to let go of my hand,' Jenny Siddell said.

Her stomach churning, Polly looked down to see Kathryn clutched Jenny's hand so tightly her knuckles were white. Taking a deep breath hoping to chase away her anxiety, Polly leant forward and prised Kathryn's fingers from the other girl's hand, gently urging her daughter from the car.

'I think we all need to go inside,' Ronnie said, opening the car door and getting out.

Polly nodded. With her arm around her trembling daughter's shoulders, Polly led them down the path, into the hallway and then into the lounge room.

'Kathryn's had a bit of a shock,' Ronnie Siddell said, sitting gingerly on the lounge chair as though she was ready to take off at any minute.

This was the first time Polly had been close to the other woman. Ronnie seemed older than Polly expected. She had to be at least fifty-five: a big-boned tall woman with plain features. Taking her time, Polly looked Ronnie up and down. Ronnie, her grey-speckled brown hair pulled back into a severe bun, looked more like a Sunday school teacher than an abortionist. But the fact remained, she was an abortionist and there was no way Polly wanted this female here in her home talking about private family matters. She sighed. Sometimes she had to do things she didn't want, to try to get to the bottom of the problem.

'Why don't you take Jenny into your bedroom, Kathryn?' Ronnie said, giving directions to the two girls, who sat together on the lounge.

Polly bristled. Now that woman was taking over, giving orders in her home.

'There's some fruit in the bowl,' she said, determined to assert herself. 'It's past our teatime. Jenny might be hungry and like an apple or banana.' She turned towards the older woman, deciding she needed to be civil. 'Thank you for bringing Kathryn home. Can you tell me what's happened?'

'Your daughter waited at the ground for her father, but he didn't turn up.' Ronnie Siddell leant even farther forward in the chair, as though she was trying to get close, to stress the importance of her message.

Polly smelled cigarette smoke on her. She screwed up her nose, more from disgust than from the odour. Only racy women smoked. Of course, she shouldn't have expected anything else from this woman.

'So you gave her a ride?' Polly asked, trying hard to sound as though she was in control. She wasn't. Anger at Chip burned away at her gut. Not only had he abandoned his daughter, he'd left Polly to deal with this embarrassing situation. She straightened her back. There was no way she was going to let Ronnie Siddell know how she felt.

'There's a bit more to it than that, I'm afraid,' Ronnie said. 'You'll probably need to let Kathryn tell you herself when she's feeling better. It will do her good to get it off her chest.'

Irritated at the other woman's know-all manner. Polly got to her feet. 'I'll let Kathryn tell me as soon as you've gone,' she said, taking a couple of steps towards the doorway.

Ronnie stood, but didn't move. 'I think you should hear me out,' she said, indicating for Polly to sit again.

Exasperated, Polly sat opposite the bossy woman. She would much rather be talking to Kathryn, hearing her version of events. 'I'm listening,' she said, folding her arms.

Ronnie nodded. 'The other kids had all left, so Kathryn walked down town by herself to catch the bus. I offered her a ride home, but she refused. I got the impression that she'd been told not to accept a ride from me.'

Although Ronnie didn't change expression, Polly could hear the accusing tone in her voice. She'd had enough. 'So what's Kathryn doing in your car?'

Polly's abruptness didn't seem to faze the older woman, who continued calmly. 'After I left the park I went to visit friends for a few minutes and passed Kathryn on the bus stop on my way home. She was pretty distressed, so I picked her up and went to the police station.'

'The police station? Because her father didn't pick her up?' This woman was ridiculous.

Ronnie shook her head. 'While Kathryn was waiting for the bus a car pulled up and a man offered her a lift.'

'So she was frightened. I've trained her not to talk to strangers and certainly not to accept a ride from one.' Relief surged through Polly's body. Kathryn had been upset and crying, because she had been left by her father and then frightened by being offered a ride by a stranger. Obviously Ronnie Siddell liked to make herself the centre of attention, going to the police station.

Ronnie's implacable expression didn't change as she continued. 'The man had a tattoo. Apparently when he leaned out the window trying to persuade Kathryn to get in the car, she got a good look at it. It was something that had apparently stuck in her mind- an ugly Devil's face. She'd.'

'I didn't think there was a law against tattoos,' Polly interrupted. 'Why on earth did you need to go to the police?'

'Kathryn's a very bright girl,' Ronnie said. 'She remembered seeing a tattoo like it on a newsreel. She started yelling and some people gathered around her to see what was wrong. The man drove off and once the small crowd had seen she was okay, they left, too. Kathryn was naturally upset. I noticed her crying when I drove down the street and so I picked her up.'

'Well, thank you again,' Polly said. 'I'd like to understand more about this man with the tattoo.' Although she tried to remain calm, she could feel tremors starting in her legs.

'Eric Stanslowski or something like that is his name. He escaped from gaol in Sydney and has been on the run for a few weeks. Your daughter saw him on a newsreel at the pictures. She remembered'

Polly didn't hear anymore of the woman's story. Her head began to spin, reeling out of control. Her stomach lurching, she lowered her head between her knees, trying to regain her equilibrium.

Then Ronnie Siddell knelt beside her, rubbing her hands. 'You poor thing. It must be a shock that Kathryn was so close to a paedophile.'

'A what?' Polly had never heard that word.

'He likes kids more than women. Though the police weren't sure it was him. They said he usually likes them younger than Kathryn.'

Polly gagged. 'I have to go,' she murmured and ran to the bathroom where she sank to her knees and vomited into the bath.

'Here.' Ronnie was beside her again. She found a face washer, dampened it and wiped Polly's face. 'I'll go and make you a cup of tea.'

Her belly quivering, Polly nodded her thanks, too numb to say anything. Part of her wanted to be alone; she had major decisions to make. But part of her craved the steadiness that seemed to surround Ronnie Siddell like gentle waves lapping at the seashore.

Maybe Chip was right. He always said everyone had good and bad in them and you shouldn't judge. Ronnie Siddell was different from what she'd expected. She'd put Polly offside with her bossiness to start with, but there was a sense of peace surrounding her, a calmness definitely at odds with her reputation. It was hard to merge that emotion into an aura surrounding a known baby killer, but Polly found it easier than she'd imagined.

After she pushed herself up from her knees, Polly took a minute to regain her composure as best as she could. Bending down, she gulped a few mouthfuls of water from the bathroom basin and rinsed out her mouth. The mirror showed her how pale she was. She didn't have time for any vanity, although she stood looking vacantly into the mirror for a few moments.

It was time to make a choice: a choice that would change her life. She couldn't stay in this home any longer. The gap between her and Chip became wider every day. He was drinking more and more and leaving her with a sense of emptiness she couldn't replace, not here in this house with its many memories. Chip's drinking had always been acceptable, his tolerance and good humour always won through. Many women in Merthyr Vale didn't have it as good as she did. But abandoning Kathryn! The dangers, the dreadful unimaginable fate that could have befallen her daughter was more than she could bear.

Polly's mind was clear, her decision made, as she hurried into the kitchen.

'Mrs. Siddell?' She touched the older woman on her arm, as Ronnie busied herself, setting out cups and saucers on the cupboard top.

'Call me Ronnie,' she said, turning towards Polly.

Polly swallowed. 'Ronnie, could you do me anther big favour?'

'Just ask.' Ronnie picked up the jug and poured boiling water into the teapot.

Taking a deep breath, Polly desperately tried to get the words from her constricted throat. 'If I pack a bag for us, will you drive Kathryn and me to my sister's on the other side of town?'

*********************************************************************

Early on Sunday morning, before the sun's rays bestowed any glimmer of light, Polly started washing walls in her sister's home. In Polly's mind, Lil's house reeked of death; every nook and cranny of the small miner's cottage stank, the rank odour permeating through to each of the tiny rooms. It seemed important to escape from the nauseating stench as much as she could, and she tipped more pine-scented disinfectant into the bucket of water than was entirely necessary. For some reason the stink of the house reminded her of her relationship with Chip. It wasn't dead yet, but no hope remained. Maybe that was what she could smell: a lack of hope, a dread of what the future might reveal.

Since yesterday afternoon, when she'd arrived at her sister's, she'd shared the spare room with Kathryn. Lil didn't say much when they arrived; she'd been busy with Fred. This morning Polly and Kathryn ate breakfast alone. Her daughter hadn't stopped crying from the moment they left the house yesterday. They talked about what happened in Westridge after they settled in the bedroom. Kathryn accepted she'd come through her horrible experience without being hurt. But what had taken place yesterday afternoon wasn't the reason she sobbed; she missed her father and wanted to go home. And she was also worried about Laddie. At least Polly could reassure her about that. Chip would look after their dog.

Today, because it was a sunny morning, Kathryn sat on an old cane chair in the backyard garden, her head in a book as usual. Polly hadn't asked Kathryn to help with the walls when she started cleaning more than two hours before. It was something she wanted to do alone.

Shrugging, Polly bent to the bucket on the floor. Kathryn needed to read, to lose herself in the imaginary perfect world; Polly needed to be needed. That realisation had come to her piece by painful piece over the past few months. Right at this moment, Polly felt that Lil needed her to clean the house. Dropping the huge cloth into the bucket, she immersed her raw hands into the chemical drenched suds and wrung out the cloth.

For a moment she stopped and clutched the wet cloth against her chest, ignoring the soaked front of her dress. Thoughts began to whirl. What was she doing, cleaning this house? Was she helping her sister or trying to absolve herself? It felt as if she was trying to wash away her sins.

Visions from her early childhood tumbled through her mind. She pictured the preacher, his face stern, leading her towards the creek at the back of Merthyr Vale. Her dress had been so white, so pure, so pretty, but he'd told her she was filthy and he would immerse her totally in the waterhole, so her sins washed away. She hadn't wanted to do it. She couldn't understand how dirty water could make her clean body and beautiful dress pure. Her father had pushed her forward; her mother had whispered, 'You're a Phillips. You can do it, and do it properly.'

After being submerged in the water, she'd been surprised at how fresh and revitalised she felt when she came out, dripping wet. Her parents had been right. Sometimes things had to be done, because they proved to be the correct option, not because they were the easiest way to go. Was running away from her home the right thing to do? Would her mother and father be disappointed in her?

She dropped the cloth back into the bucket. Here she was, letting herself get dragged down by a lot of nonsense. She needed to get on with what she started to do earlier this morning. There was only one room in Lil's two-bedroom house she hadn't cleaned. She walked up the small hallway and knocked softly on the partially closed bedroom door. There was no answer, so she slowly pushed it open.

Seated on a wooden chair, Lil seemed to be asleep, her head resting sideways on the bed. She held hands with Fred, whose haggard face was turned towards his wife. Tears formed in Polly's eyes. She hadn't shed any since she left her own home yesterday, but the tears that trickled down her face weren't for herself.

Life wasn't fair. All Fred and Lil had were each other. They were a close couple; their only son had been killed in the Korean War a few years ago. They'd lost their only daughter a long time before that. She'd married an American serviceman who'd come back to Australia after the Second World War to claim his bride. Sheila now lived in the United States, and had seven children, but Lil and Fred had never met one of them. Sheila and her husband weren't wealthy, and Lil and Fred definitely couldn't afford to trek halfway around the world.

They'd put aside their disappointment about their family and spent every minute they could together. Fred used to enjoy a beer at the pub, but he'd always known when to stop; when enough was enough. Now Lil and Fred had to face dreadful illness and sacrifice again, this time with no compensation at the end, just complete aloneness for Lil.

A sob escaped from deep within Polly's belly and, disturbed by the slight noise, Lil lifted her head. 'What are you blubbering about? We don't need tears in this house.'

She disengaged her hand from her sleeping husband and walked towards the door. Grabbing Polly by the arm, she steered her towards her small front room. 'We need to talk,' she said, wearily lowering herself into her stuffed armchair.

Shaking her head, Polly spoke. 'You don't need to hear my problems.'

Lil nodded, a determined expression stamped on her face. 'You're right. But you need to hear them. First of all, you have to sort out what you're going to do. You can stay here for a while, but it's not a place for Kathryn at the moment. It's only a matter of time with Fred.' She put up her hand. 'I don't want any of your sympathy. We've had a good life. He's too young to go at sixty-two, but our son was far too young to die at twenty-five. Life's like that. You get the good and the bad. It's what you do with it that counts.'

'I don't know what to do.' Polly cleared her throat, trying to stop the ache from unshed tears. There was no way she was going to break down again in front of Lil, whose suffering far outweighed her own. She used to have Lil's strength, but it had deserted her along with her love for her husband.

'You have a comfortable home. Think of that.' Leaning forward, Lil caught Polly's eyes. 'Your daughter is fretting. A child needs both her parents. How will you live? Where will your money come from? Are you going to be prepared to scrub floors for a living? Live in a boarding house? I don't think so.' She shook her head. 'I ask you again. What are you going to do?'

'I'm a burden on you,' Polly stated.

Lil sighed. 'I don't mind the company. I'm stuck here sometimes not seeing anyone for days on end. My food gets delivered; even Maisie Simpkins comes here every two months to cut my hair. But being in this situation has made me do some thinking, some heavy thinking.' She stopped for a moment and gazed into the distance. 'We all have to put up with shit. Chip drinks too much. Is he running around with other women? Is he belting you up?'

Polly got to her feet, clenching her hands, her arms stiff by her sides. 'The bastard left Kathryn alone when he should have picked her up. She could have been taken by a bloke who likes to interfere with kids.'

Lil stood and took Polly's hand in hers, uncurling her fingers as she did it. 'Kathryn is okay. Chip let you down and he let his daughter down, but she still loves him. She's forgiven him. You need to do the same before you turn into a bitter woman.'

Turning to her sister, Polly's eyes begged Lil to understand her feelings. 'I can never feel the same about him again.'

Lil gave a half-smile. 'Do you think I feel the same about Fred? I still love him, but he's not my lover anymore. I've wiped his arse and held his head while he's coughed up blood. I've cleaned puss out of bedsores and had to strip piddle soaked sheets from the bed more than once. But I have my memories. They're with me now and they'll be with me till I die.'

Polly wrapped her arms around her older sister and gave her a hug. 'I wish I had your backbone.'

Lil pushed away from Polly to grab her sister by the shoulders and give her a shake. 'You're a Phillips. You have guts. You can keep going. My God, woman, you've still got good health. Why don't you join the golf club; play tennis, go to housie? Go out, enjoy yourself. Forget about how perfect your life used to be. Used to be's are just that, gone, forgotten. Pull yourself together and get on with it.'

Turning away, Lil headed back to the bedroom. Polly stood gazing after her. Her sister was right, of course. Phillips women were strong. They didn't cave in. A woman's place was in the home, to keep it together. Maybe she didn't deserve the Phillips name; because she didn't know whether she wanted to try anymore. She picked up the bucket that was sitting outside Lil's bedroom and took it outside to empty in the washhouse.

Kathryn sat outside, still looking at a book, but Polly noticed she wasn't really reading. Staying behind her daughter, Polly tried to organise her scattered thoughts. Kathryn's happiness remained important, more important than her own. As a mother, she had a responsibility to ensure her children were secure. There was no way she could provide a home for Kathryn as good as what she lived in now. And Kathryn had always loved her father more than she did her mother. She needed him to talk about her love of books and what she wanted to achieve in her life. Polly could understand that.

She also knew Kathryn shared a bond with her. Every mother felt close to her own child, especially one who had been conceived in love. But Kathryn might resent her mother, if Polly didn't take her back to her father and the home she felt comfortable in.

A shuddering sigh rose from deep inside Polly. She loved her home as well. It had been part of her life, formed her happy memories, just as her marriage once had. Besides, she'd seen what happened with Maggie's neighbour, Gladys Price. She'd left her husband after many beatings to go and live with her children. It hadn't taken her husband long to install a fancy woman in the house. Even though Chip hadn't chased after other women, he continued to be a man, and had a man's desires and needs. There was no way some tart was going to live in her home.

'Oh Chip! I want to love you again like I used to. Please give up the drink!' The whispered words were louder than Polly planned and disturbed Kathryn from her daydreaming, and she turned towards her mother.

Desperately trying to remain more upbeat, Polly moved to stand near her daughter. 'Is your book good?' she asked.

A combination of puzzlement and scorn soured Kathryn's face as she stared at her mother. Polly knew she deserved it; she'd never shown any interest in her daughter's books before. That was Chip's domain. He would often sit discussing a story with Kathryn, while Polly hadn't time. There was always something else to do. Besides she'd always wanted the practical life, not one tied up in adventure or fantasy.

'I'm not really reading,' Kathryn complained. 'I miss Dad. Why can't we go back home?'

'If your father really cared about us he'd be here by now.' Immediately the words left her mouth, Polly regretted them. She was starting to sound like the bitter woman Lil talked about.

'Why do you have to be so horrible?' Tears started again, trickling down Kathryn's cheeks. 'You don't even know why Dad didn't pick me up yesterday. He could have had an accident. He could be sick.'

Or drunk. Polly stopped herself before she said the obvious aloud. 'Kathryn, if your father had been in an accident we'd know by now. He'd be with his cronies from work, his drinking buddies. You don't understand what's happening with your Dad.'

It was the best she could come up with and her daughter's face reflected her own disappointment in Polly's lack of being able to mouth some consoling words. Explaining how she felt remained too difficult. How could she put in plain words her loss of faith to her daughter, who still idolised her father?

Polly had to admit it wasn't only Chip who let her down. Nothing remained the same. Her family had dispersed; the pit whistle didn't sound its comforting blast; television had taken the place of conversation and to make things worse, most of the shows on television didn't interest her. Playing the piano and having close fiends and family around continued to be what she enjoyed most, but it wasn't happening anymore. She felt isolated, cut off from everything that had once been important, no, had once been her whole life.

'Mum?' Kathryn looked at her expectantly.

'All right. We'll walk home after lunch. We'll have to carry our bags a fair way, mind.'

A smile lit up Kathryn's face and relief, with its accompanying feeling of delight, swelled in Polly's heart. 'I'll go and pack,' Kathryn said and ran into the house.

********************************************************************

The dry stew sat on the stovetop. Polly lifted the lid and poked at the black skin. From deep inside, resentment formed with the anger she'd been trying to stop from building up and taking over. Murder wasn't far from her mind, but she pushed that aside as a ridiculous thought. She had to remember Lil's advice and remain calm; to do that was a wise choice.

'Mum, what are you doing?' Kathryn said impatiently. 'We have to see if Dad's home.'

Polly already knew her husband was in the house. Two empty beer bottles stood on the kitchen cupboard alongside two full ones.

'Your father will be asleep in bed. He's obviously drunk more when he didn't find us home last night. Go on, go into the bedroom and look if you don't believe me.' Polly pushed Kathryn towards the front bedroom, before moving the two heavy ports into a corner of the dining room; she'd unpack later.

Her head bent, Kathryn returned to her mother almost immediately. She appeared close to tears when she lifted her eyes to meet Polly's. 'You're right. I can smell the beer. It stinks.'

'Kathryn, why don't you go for a walk over to your brother's and see if Jill is home? You can stay for lunch, if you're invited. I think Charlie worked a shift last night, so don't make too much noise knocking on the door and wake him.'

Kathryn's face lit up with a grin. 'Thanks, Mum,' she said. 'Maybe Jill will paint my nails.'

Polly watched her daughter hurry out of the house. It didn't take much to keep Kathryn happy, while nothing as simple as painted nails would appease her. After filling a tumbler with water, she walked through to the bedroom, wrinkling her nose in distaste when she entered. Placing the glass on the bedside table, she pushed up the two bedroom windows as far as she could, moving the curtains aside. Then she took the container of water and poured it over Chip's head.

Spluttering, Chip opened his eyes and sat up, focussing on Polly, but saying nothing about the dousing he'd received. 'Where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick.'

Where the hell had she been? Exploding inside, Polly grabbed the empty glass and threw it against the wall, where it splintered into a thousand pieces. Obviously disturbed by her uncharacteristic behaviour, Chip threw back the bed covers and jumped out of bed. 'Jesus Christ, woman, calm down. What's got into you?'

With her hands clenched into fists, Polly beat against his chest. 'You bastard! You drunken bastard! You could have got Kathryn killed or worse.'

Chip grabbed her hands and pulled them down by her side. ' Polly, calm down and talk to me. Where's Kathryn?'

The words caught in Polly's throat. 'What do you care? You left her. She could have been taken by a peffadile.'

'What?' Letting go of her hands, Chip sat down on the bed. 'Do you mean a paedophile?'

'Don't pretend you care.' Polly choked back the tears. 'I'll never forgive you Chip Carpenter as long as I live.'

It didn't make her feel any better to see that Chip's face was ashen when he spoke. 'Where's Kathryn?'

'She's at Charlie's. She escaped from the bloke who tried to interfere with her.' Polly knew she was exaggerating, trying to make him suffer, but she was past caring. Turning away from her subdued husband she went into the kitchen, picked up the two full beer bottles and opening the back door, threw them one by one into the backyard. Neither of them broke and she watched them slowly roll to stop at the back fence. Was that some kind of omen? She shook her head and moved back inside to take the left over stew and feed it to Laddie.

Chapter Nineteen

October 1957

A strange family was moving in next door and it was happening right now. It proved to be the most interesting thing to happen to Kathryn all week. When she first heard new people had bought the house Kathryn resented that someone other than Jane would live there. But she finally accepted Jane was never going to come back.

Every day Kathryn spent more time with Jenny Siddell. What amazed her was her mother allowed her to sleep over at Jenny's. In the past Mum never permitted her to sleep at Jane's, or anywhere else other than in her own bed. The most flabbergasting thing of all was Mum and Mrs. Siddell had become good friends and drove to the Golf Club at least twice a week in Mrs. Siddell's car.

With her chin supported in her hand, Kathryn knelt on her bed and watched through the window while the moving men unpacked furniture from the huge van. The sun's rays glinted over the top of Burgoyne's rusty roof, turning it into a lovely bronze colour, just like a shiny new penny. It made the tiny house seem almost pretty, surrounded by the orange glow, though Kathryn knew it was because her squinting eyes couldn't see the unpainted weatherboards and straggly lawn properly. Perhaps the new people would paint the house and make a nice garden.

Mum found out the family was called Pezzano and the father had bought the butcher shop across the lane from their back gate. Apparently the Pezzanos were New Australians. At school Mr. Bunn talked about the immigrants coming to Australia to find work and make it their home. There hadn't been any of them in Merthyr Vale before, and it made Kathryn feel special that they would live so close to her.

Two burly men almost emptied the van, carrying out three single beds plus a double one. Kathryn shook her head. That was funny. How were they going to fit four beds into that little house? Then, just as she was about to turn away, the family arrived in a shiny green Holden car. Kathryn knew it was a Holden, because the Weston's on the corner owned one, too. A huge man, who must be the father, got out of the driver's seat. He would be lucky not to bump his head on the veranda top. The woman, who hurried around the side, reminded Kathryn of a rubber ball. She looked short and fat and her skin, even from the bedroom window, seemed as though it stretched tight on her body.

Disappointed they didn't look more interesting, Kathryn began to get off her bed when she saw the boys get out of the back of the car. There were three of them. She guessed they would be about ten, fourteen and seventeen. She couldn't take her eyes off the middle one. She thought David Mullens good-looking, but this boy was absolutely gorgeous. He had light brown hair and olive skin and he was so tall he reached his father's shoulders. She shivered. This was the most thrilling thing to happen for a while. Even the news that Jill was going to have a baby next year wasn't as exciting as this. She couldn't wait to get to school to tell Jenny about it.

After hurriedly pulling on her school clothes, she ran into the dining room.

'Mum! Guess what! New people are moving into the Burgoyne's.'

'They're Wogs,' her mother called out from the kitchen where she was packing Dad's lunch. 'I don't know what Merthyr Vale is coming to. We'll have Chinks moving into our street before we know it.'

Dad rustled the morning paper, making lots of noise. He'd usually left for work before Kathryn got out of bed. The ruckus from the furniture van arriving must have woken her earlier than usual. She looked at Dad, expecting him to say something, but he remained silent, his face hidden by the newspaper.

'I was wondering if one of the boys might be in my class,' Kathryn said, sitting at the breakfast table. 'He's really tall and I thought he was older, but when I saw his face he looked about my age.'

'Most Wogs are Tykes,' Mum said. 'They'll be most likely going to the Catholic school, learning all that funny stuff about the Pope. He's a Wog too.'

Kathryn jumped when Dad banged the newspaper down on the table. 'I'm going to work,' he said, and hurried out the door without picking up his bag. Dad seemed angry. Kathryn guessed it was because Mum said words like "wogs", "tykes" and "chinks". Dad always used to say "if you can't say something good, then say nothing at all", but she hadn't heard him say that for a long time.

Mum went quiet, although Kathryn could feel tightness in the air. Somehow it became hard to breathe freely. She heard Mum take the sandwiches she'd been making and put them in the container ready for the chooks.

'Kathryn, come and get your breakfast.' Mum's voice sounded sad rather than angry, but Kathryn didn't want to upset her any further, so she hurried into the kitchen to get her plate to take into the dining room.

Mum and Dad didn't argue, but Kathryn knew something wasn't right. Usually Dad would say something to Mum if she said anything unkind or gossipy, but he didn't sound angry. Today, she felt that Mum made Dad cranky, so cranky he had to leave. Even though they didn't squabble, her parents seemed to only speak to each other when they had to. She didn't even see them laugh together anymore.

Every night now, when she was in her bedroom, she prayed. She still wasn't sure if there was someone up there to listen, but it made her feel good to talk to God, or even Jesus. She asked that Mum and Dad would love each other again, as they used to. She knew they loved her and the rest of the family, but it would be so much better if their home could be like it once was.

Mum came into the dining room. 'Here's your lunch.' Mum handed her a brown paper bag. 'I won't be back today till you get home from school. Golf remember,' she said, when Kathryn frowned.

'You're always going out,' Kathryn complained. Pushing away her half-eaten breakfast of baked beans on toast, she stood up to confront her mother.

'Don't use that tone of voice with me,' Mum said, placing her hands on her hips.

'Why not? You talk to dad like that all the time.' Kathryn could tell her mother was getting really angry, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. Everything was building up inside of her. She hated stale sandwiches that had been sitting in the hallway outside her classroom all day, and most of all, she wanted everything to get back to normal between her parents. She hadn't seen them kiss or cuddle each other for a long time.

'I'm your mother, that's why.' Mum took a couple of steps towards Kathryn. 'And you'll talk to me properly.'

'Then why don't you act like my mother instead of going out all the time!' Kathryn shouted.

Whack! Mum slapped her hard on the face.

'Oh!' Too shocked by her mother's reaction to say anything, Kathryn turned and grabbed her lunch bag to run up the hallway and out the front door. There wouldn't be anyone at school for almost an hour, but she didn't care. She'd go and sit in one of the open sheds for a while.

Her whole body, including her hands and legs trembled by the time Kathryn crossed the road into the school grounds and ran up the incline, past the new sewered girls' lav and towards the girls' lunch shed. It felt safe to go somewhere familiar, although she knew even that wouldn't be happening for much longer. High school, with its uncertainties, crept into her mind a lot lately, especially since Mr. Bunn kept talking about the need for them to face the future and be responsible, and try hard to do well. He'd also told them they would have to do homework when they went to high school. That would be horrible, having to sit down and do projects and assignments when she could be watching TV; she wouldn't want to miss Gunsmoke or I Love Lucy. Golly, she had lots of favourites, now she thought about it.

Everything was changing in Kathryn's life. She would be twelve soon, but sometimes she wished she could be six again. She used to have so much fun with Mum and Dad. Now her mother had slapped her. Reaching up, she touched her face. The stinging had stopped; it hadn't been all that hard a hit. That wasn't what bothered her. Mum never hit her; Mum hardly ever got angry with her.

Her mother had changed too; she was going out a lot with Mrs. Siddell. And that wasn't all that was different. Kathryn thought for a while, trying to work out what had happened to make everything so strange. Dad and her brothers didn't work together; Merthyr Vale was no longer a coal-mining town, although it wasn't a ghost town, as her teacher said it would be. Some families had moved away, but most of the men had jobs in the industries in Newcastle or some of the mines further up the valley. Rumours had started that new vineyards were going to open a few miles out of Westridge, and that there would be some jobs there.

The worst thing that happened was Jane leaving, and Kathryn knew she probably wouldn't see her again. Kathryn remembered how she wanted to hurt Jane because her friend was moving away, and how guilty she felt afterwards. Maybe that was what was wrong with her mother. She was guilty because she was going out all the time and didn't love Dad. Maybe Mum didn't love her anymore? Kathryn shook her head. No, both Mum and Dad loved her; she knew that. She shouldn't have said what she did to Mum about going out. Dad spent a lot of time with his mates.

Standing, she decided she might go home to see Mum and find out if she remained angry with her. Knowing her mother, Kathryn expected everything to be okay. But things were changing in her home and she wasn't sure about anything anymore.

She walked to the corner where she could see her house, trying to make up her mind what to do. A little red car pulled up outside their front gate. It was Mrs. Siddell, coming early to pick up Mum. It was too late to talk to Mum now. Even though Mrs. Siddell was Mum's friend, Kathryn knew her mother didn't like to talk about family things when anyone outside the family stayed around and could listen in. Then, as she watched, she saw Jenny get out of the car and walk into the yard with her mother.

With the brown paper bag clutched in her hand, Kathryn walked down to the school gate to wait for her friend.

*********************************************************************

Kathryn glanced across the schoolroom again, trying to catch Angelo Pezzano's eye. It wasn't doing her any good, because he kept his eyes down unless Mr. Bunn actually asked a question. Mr. Bunn began to write their composition topics on the board and she read through them quickly, deciding which she would choose.

A paper aeroplane hit the side of Kathryn's head and she turned again, hoping it would be Angelo. Of course, Kevin was grinning at her, his chestnut hair hanging down on his forehead so far she could barely see his eyes. Frowning at Kevin, she pointed to the front of the room, letting him know she was only interested in the lesson. That wasn't entirely true. She glanced at Angelo. She couldn't see his eyes either, but it wasn't because of his fair hair, because that was slicked back, shining with what she guessed was California Poppy Hair Oil.

The only boys she'd seen with California Poppy were older, at least sixteen. When she thought about it, she realised that there was something about Angelo Pezzano making him seem much older than the other boys in the class. And it wasn't just his hair.

Kathryn felt as though bees buzzed around in her head and body. Even though she loved to see good-looking actors in TV shows, it seemed much more exciting to have someone so handsome sitting opposite her. And to think he lived next door!

Long eyelashes curled onto Angelo's olive skinned cheeks, hiding his eyes, but Kathryn had already managed to find out they were dark brown. Angelo was as good-looking up close, well, as close as she could get across the room, as he had been when she'd first seen him through her bedroom window.

Sighing, Kathryn rested her chin on her hands. It had been all right to have Kevin or David as a boyfriend, but now she'd seen Angelo she wanted him.

'What's wrong with you?' Jenny whispered.

Staring thoughtfully at the girl sitting next to her, Kathryn considered her reply. They were good friends, but she wasn't quite sure she could trust the other girl. Jenny wasn't anywhere near as pretty as Jane. In fact, Kathryn didn't think Jenny was at all attractive, but the boys liked her because she acted like one of them.

'Nothing,' Kathryn said. 'I'm wondering what to write for my composition.'

'Oh, right,' Jenny said, giving her a disbelieving look.

Writing compositions remained one of Kathryn's favourite activities at school, so she managed to concentrate on her work for the rest of the morning. She didn't get a chance to get close to Angelo in the play lunch break, as the boys in the class crowded around him. Amongst them stood Billy Willington, dressed in clean clothes and smelling so good it was hard to believe they used to call him Stinky. Although she felt pleased Billy had friends, Kathryn was relieved she didn't have to talk to him. He seemed to have put his family's death behind him, but Kathryn didn't want to talk about anything like that, not to anyone.

The boys laughed at something, hit each other on the arms and bent over, holding their stomachs. Dying to know what they were going on about, Kathryn wanted to go closer; it bothered her that she couldn't hear them, but to try to infiltrate the boys' group just wasn't on. She snapped at Jenny when her friend wanted to go and practice throwing the ball through the hoops. Couldn't Jenny see Angelo was more important than throwing silly balls around?

By lunchtime Kathryn's mood hadn't improved. With the boys from her class congregated in the boys' lunch shed, she couldn't see them properly. She and Jenny were seated together on the wooden benches against the wall in the girls' lunch shed and Kathryn didn't want to talk.

'Why are you staring at Angelo all the time? You're like a love-sick cow.' Jenny's voice broke through Kathryn's daydream. It was more of a nightmare really, where Kevin had been telling Angelo she was his girlfriend; that she'd seen him in the nuddy.

'I'm not staring at anyone.' Kathryn folded her arms and frowned at her freckle-faced girlfriend. 'And don't call me a cow!'

'He's older than us, you know.'

'Who?' Kathryn put on her best innocent expression. She wanted to smack Jenny, who acted so superior.

'Stop pretending, you know perfectly well who I'm talking about.'

'And how do you know how old he is? They only moved here this morning. He lives next door to me, so I should know more about him.'

'Then I won't tell you, if that's what you want.' Jenny screwed up her face and closed her eyes.

Pasting a smile on her face. Kathryn leaned closer to her friend. 'You know you're dying to tell me, so how did you find out about him?'

Jenny settled back on the wooden seat, beaming as though she'd just won a prize. 'His parents have been in town a couple of times, checking out the butcher shop and the schools. Mum spoke to Mrs. Pezzano and found out that the boys weren't going to go to the Catholic school, though she didn't say why. Mum thought it was because the boys help out in the butcher shop after school and our school is really close to their house.'

'And?' Kathryn couldn't stop herself from getting cranky; Jenny was really dragging out her news.

'Mrs Pezzano told Mum the boys were sixteen, fourteen and ten. Antonio, Angelo and Gabriel. Cute names, aren't they?'

Kathryn thought the boys were much cuter than their names, but she wasn't going to give Jenny any more ammunition to use against her. 'They're okay,' she said, shrugging as she spoke.

She looked towards the boys again, but they'd disappeared, probably to play soccer in the grassed area. Now she understood why Angelo looked older; he was. But why was he in her class if he was fourteen? Either Jenny had the wrong information or Angelo had been in a boys' home or he'd been expelled from another school. Maybe he'd had a dreadful disease and had been in hospital for a year? Whatever it was, she had a good chance of finding out, a better chance than Jenny, living next door as she did.

Jenny moaned and bent over, grabbing her belly.

'What's wrong with you?' Kathryn knew Jenny was trying to get her attention and there wasn't anything really wrong.

'I've got my monthlies,' Jenny said.

That managed to get Kathryn's interest. 'Are you sure?'

'You don't want me to show you, do you? You're in a terrible mood, Kathryn.' Jenny folded her arms and glared at her friend.

'Does it hurt much?' Kathryn leaned forward, fascinated to find out about the mysteries of girls' bodies. A tiny bit jealous that Jenny, whose breasts weren't anywhere near as rounded as hers, had started her periods, Kathryn tried not to sound too curious. She wouldn't want Jenny thinking she was a cut above her.

'Yes, Mum gave me a Bex powder this morning, and I have to carry some pads in my schoolbag now.'

'You'll have to be careful that you don't have a baby.' Thoughts of Doreen and what had happened to her still worried Kathryn.

'You have to have sex before that can happen.' Jenny shook her head. 'Sometimes you bother me. Don't you know anything?'

There was no way Kathryn wanted to let on how little she knew, but she desperately needed to find out. Having read Peyton Place and quite a few Man magazines, she had some idea, but it was all a bit vague.

'Tell me what you know,' Kathryn said. 'And I'll tell you if I think you're right.'

Jenny shrugged. 'What's to tell? A girl has eggs in her body and a boy puts stuff into her that turns those eggs into babies.'

Kathryn frowned. 'And how does he do that?'

'Their willies get hard and they like to put it inside the girl and squirt their stuff into her. Doing that makes them feel good.'

Swallowing hard, Kathryn managed to keep her lunch down. Disgusted at her friend's revelation, she wanted to argue, tell her she was wrong, but somehow she suspected Jenny might be right. Angelo Pezzano could keep his distance. No wonder Mum always told her to be careful around boys. Why on earth would girls want to do that?

'We haven't played Fly for ages,' Kathryn said, wanting to change the direction of their conversation. 'Let's go find a couple more girls to play with us.'

Warm and dream-like, the rest of the afternoon passed by. Sweet smells from the freesias blooming outside the schoolroom window wafted into the room; a slight breeze carried dancing puffs of dust in the air and it was such a sleepy day Kathryn had trouble keeping her mind on the lessons. And even though she was tempted, she avoided looking at Angelo.

Jenny's eye-opener hadn't made Kathryn happy at all. She wondered if she would ever get married or have a boyfriend. If she had to do what Jenny said, then she would stop single or become an old maid. Maybe she could change her religion and become a nun? All the girls in Merthyr Vale seemed to want to get married more than anything. Deep down, she'd already decided she wanted to be a doctor, or even a nurse, if she couldn't do her first choice. But she wanted to fit in with the other girls from the town, as well. Now she was feeling miserable, because somehow the picture she had in her mind about love and marriage was destroyed.

'Do you want to come over this arvo?' Jenny asked as they walked down the steps after school finished.

Kathryn shook her head. 'I can't today. Mum wants me to do something.' That was a lie and she held her breath, hoping that Jenny wouldn't ask what her mother wanted Kathryn to do, because Kathryn wasn't good at lying.

'I'll see you tomorrow, then.' Jenny turned and ran towards the rack to get her bike.

Wishing hard that Jane could come back, Kathryn watched her new best friend ride away. If Jane had continued to be her best friend, then she wouldn't have found out all this horrible stuff. It was too late; she knew that. The worse thing was Jenny didn't think she'd done anything wrong, telling Kathryn about what happened between boys and girls.

Kathryn wanted to get home; she felt safe there. Of course, she was going to have to face up to Mum after their argument this morning. Mum would tell her she wasn't to speak like that again, and maybe if Mum had told Dad what had happened, he would say the same. Then it would be over. Why couldn't all her problems and worries be dealt with as simply as that?

Dawdling down the hill, Kathryn passed the girls' new brick lav when she heard someone behind her. Turning around, she prepared herself to tell Kevin to get lost and found herself looking right at the good-looking Angelo. His brother Gabriel was with him, but the younger boy ignored her, kept his head down and ran past them towards the back gate. All Kathryn's promises about keeping her distance melted away, now she was in Angelo's presence and staring into his dark eyes. He was beautiful.

'I seen you staring at me,' he said, as he walked along beside her.

Angelo's voice sounded different. It was a little deeper than the boys in her class, but he also had a funny way of saying words. That made him even more desirable. Shivering, Kathryn lowered her head. 'I live next door to you,' she said, peeping sideways at him.

He nodded. 'I already knows that. I help Papa today, but on Saturday we could play chasies if you loike.'

Puzzled, Kathryn couldn't think of an answer straight away. 'Play?' she said. Angelo sounded as though he was back in kindergarten. Maybe he was trying to trick her.

He smiled, crinkling up his lovely dark eyes. 'I have the Robin suit you could have. It belongs Gab, but he will allow you.'

'Robin suit?' Kathryn repeated stupidly.

'Oh, okay, you be the Superman if you want.' Angelo frowned at her and Kathryn realised something. Angelo was older than the rest of them because he wasn't very brainy. He must have repeated a class, maybe more than one.

'I'm not sure if I can, but maybe we can watch TV later on in the day,' Kathryn promised.

'Okay. I have to hurry help Papa. See ya later alligator.' Angelo gave a strange sign with his hand and ran to the gate, then across the road to his house.

Fighting the tears stinging her eyes and the back of her throat, Kathryn stood still, watching the tall boy run home. She would have a friend next door again, but that wasn't what she'd been hoping for. The mystery surrounding Angelo had faded away: leaving behind a reality so disappointing she wanted to cry.

Aunty Lil told her she needed to toughen up; that she looked at life through rose-coloured glasses. Well, she'd rather have rose-coloured glasses than feel an empty pit in her belly. She sighed. Even though Jenny told her horrible things about sex, it wasn't going to happen for a long time yet. Right now, so she could be a proper twelve year old and fit in with her friends, she needed a boyfriend. Kevin would have to do.

Chapter Twenty

November 1957

Finally stirring from her restless sleep, Polly reached out for the alarm clock beside her bed, squinting through heavy lidded eyes. Ten past seven! She must have forgotten to set it last night. For a brief moment she panicked; Chip would be late for work. Turning over in the double bed, she stared at her husband, slack-mouthed and snoring, and reeking of alcohol from last night's drinking. The pit whistle would have sounded by now if he had to go to work in the mine, but the pit whistle didn't pierce the morning silence anymore and she missed it badly.

'Chip!' Reaching over, she shook him and he immediately awoke. At least nothing had changed there. Chip might drink too much, but he never shirked work: not yet, anyway. 'Time to get up,' she said, pushing aside the sheet and grabbing her brunch coat from the bottom of the bed.

As she passed Kathryn's room on the way to the outside toilet, Polly glanced in. Books piled up on the floor beside the bed made an untidy heap. Kathryn would end up ruining her eyesight. She constantly read; just as her father used to, before he began drinking every night. It was a bit of a worry. Kathryn needed to live in the real world, not escape into make-believe and then not be able to face up to what life threw at her. Just as her father did.

Laddie waited at the bottom of the steps, wagging his stumpy tail. Bending down, she patted his head, fondling his soft black ears as she did. Her faithful dog barked and got to his feet, ready to help as always.

'No more carrying in the wood, Laddie. I've got my new washing machine now.' She knew she sounded as though she missed the old copper with its fire. That was partially the truth. She looked though the washhouse door and saw the gleaming machine. Even though she'd had it for nearly a year, the shiny Hoover looked out of place in her unlined washhouse.

Sometimes she wished Cassie still lived next door and she could have an occasional chat over the side fence, and that Laddie could help her gather in the wood for the fires. But that was dwelling on might-have-beens, as Lil would say. The past remained the past. She needed to move on. Today was golf day: mixed day at the club. Ronnie Siddell would pick her up at half past nine.

Laddie waited outside the lavatory door and then trotted beside her, until she walked up the side of the house to retrieve the morning paper from the front yard. Needing to keep track of funeral notices, she read the paper a lot more nowadays. Now so many had moved away, it continued to be the best way to keep in touch with what had happened to the former coal-miners and their families.

'Kathryn, time to get up. I'll be starting breakfast soon,' she called, once she was back in the house.

'Coming.'

'It's golf day today,' she told her yawning daughter, who ambled into the dining room. 'I may not be home before you, so I'll put the front door key under the flowerpot near the door. Hurry up now, you can have the bathroom after me.'

'Where are you working today, Dad?' Kathryn asked her father.

'Just up the road a bit.'

'When will you be home?'

From the bathroom Polly could hear the hope in her daughter's voice. Tuesday evening was when Chip used to take Kathryn to the library, but he hadn't done that for months. Quickly washing her hands, Polly moved back into the dining room to hear what the bastard would say to his adoring daughter.

'When I get home,' Chip said, his cranky expression letting his daughter know he didn't want any further discussion.

Polly watched the disappointment play across Kathryn's face and her insides hardened.

'Your father will be going to the pub after work to get pissed as usual,' she said, regretting her words as soon as they left her mouth. Saying it wouldn't stop it from happening. Chip was too far gone. And it certainly wouldn't help her daughter who still believed her father was the same man he used to be and would do the same things he used to do.

'I work hard and deserve a drink,' Chip said, sitting down at the table to wait for his cup of tea. He might have a slice of toast with it, but not if Polly tried to force the issue.

'One drink? Twenty one more likely.'

Chip banged his fist down hard, rattling the cups. 'I won't hear another word. I put food on the table and provide you with everything you need.'

'Do you?' Polly grimaced. It wasn't worthwhile saying anymore. She could see Kathryn was close to tears and the day had barely started. 'You can buy a pie from the corner shop for your lunch today, if you like Kathryn. Do you want any lunch?' she asked Chip.

He shook his head.

Of course he wouldn't want any lunch. Polly didn't know why she bothered asking. Working out in the open as he did gave Chip an incredible thirst. If he didn't have a pub nearby for a liquid lunch, then she was pretty sure one of his workmates would have transport to go get bottles of beer. She didn't know how he kept his job. He was already half under the weather by the time he clocked off at four. If he bothered to come home. Usually he would go straight from work to the pub, filthy dirty.

'Mr Bunn said we'll start our test today. It's for us to see what class we'll get into when we go to high school next year.'

'What?' Polly snapped.

Kathryn was always talking about something to do with school. Polly didn't see why it was so important to Kathryn. She'd grow up and have kids and her place would be at home looking after them, cooking and cleaning for her husband and family.

'Have you been studying?' Chip asked.

Kathryn smiled at her father. 'No, but I think I know most of the answers anyway.'

'I'm sure you'll do well.' Chip got to his feet. 'You still want to be a nurse?'

'Or a doctor,' Kathryn said, her enthusiasm making her face rosy.

'You do whatever you want,' Chip said, and grabbing his brown Trilby, he went out the door without another word for either of them.

'Bye, Dad,' Kathryn called, but he didn't hear her, or didn't want to.

With her hands on her hips, Polly stood and considered her daughter. Kathryn needed to be brought back to reality. Putting Kathryn through medical school, supporting her, buying her books and whatever else she would need if she studied to be a doctor, was definitely something they couldn't afford. Chip might want the world for his daughter, but it wasn't going to happen, especially when the money he brought in now was only sufficient for them to survive. Thank goodness they owned their house and had paid for all the renovations while he was still a miner earning a good income.

'If I'm not home this afternoon, don't you go anywhere. I won't be late,' Polly said.

Kathryn gave her a surly look. 'What about going to Jenny's?'

'Get dressed for school; we'll talk about it later, ' Polly said.

Muttering under her breath, Kathryn flounced into her bedroom. Polly sighed. Maybe she was a little harsh on her daughter.

Teenagers, as such, were a new fad, as flappers had been when she was a couple of years older than Kathryn. When she'd come home with her hair cut really short in the latest trend, Polly's parents had been horrified. Being an independent young woman, or thinking she was, she hadn't taken any notice of her parents' disapproval. Though, after a couple of days she'd wished she had her lovely long hair back.

Kathryn seemed to be defying her mother at a much younger age than Polly had. Would she eventually learn that her mother gave her the best advice? Polly doubted it; Kathryn only seemed to trust people who read books.

A more pleasant expression lighting up her face, Kathryn came back out of her bedroom. 'Can I go to Jenny's after school?'

Polly shook her head. 'Not today. Come right home. Mrs Siddell said she has some things to do this afternoon.'

A sulky expression returned within seconds, and Kathryn grabbed her lunch money before muttering a quick good-bye and heading up the hallway to go to school.

*********************************************************************

'I wish I could afford to buy my own golf kit.' Polly walked beside Ronnie as they headed back to the clubhouse. Polly had won again; her handicap improved nearly every time she played. Sometimes she imagined she enjoyed this with Chip, showing him she could do something besides the cooking, washing and ironing. But, as she made new acquaintances on a regular basis, people who Chip wouldn't know, those thoughts of him joining her were pushed to the background. Her life continued to be different now.

'I'll keep my eyes open for a second-hand bag when I go down to Newcastle,' Ronnie promised. 'I didn't want to say anything, but I've bought you a five iron for Christmas. It's not much, but it'll give you a start.'

Polly grabbed Ronnie's arm. 'You shouldn't have done that. But thank you. You're a good friend.'

'Let's sit on the bench. We've got at least an hour before we need to head home.' Ronnie pointed to a wooden seat under the shade of a purple flowering jacaranda.

'I mean it. I don't know what I'd do without you.' Enfolding Ronnie's hand in hers, Polly sat beside her friend.

Ronnie looked straight into Polly's eyes. 'You would have survived. You're a strong woman, Polly Carpenter.'

Polly shook her head. 'I don't know. I was stuck. My life felt empty.' She stared towards the distant golf green, not really seeing anything, before turning to her friend. 'Listen to me, feeling sorry for myself. You've never told me, how do you manage on your own?'

'If you mean without a man, I've always got on,' Ronnie said. 'I worked as a bar manager in the western suburbs of Sydney and lived upstairs in the pub. I had a good life, I suppose. Then, when I was just over forty, I found myself pregnant with Jenny.'

'You worked in a pub?' Regretting that she sounded so accusing, Polly could feel her face heat. Relief warmed through her when Ronnie laughed before answering.

'Does that make me a fallen woman?'

Polly shook her head. 'I've never been in a pub. It's always been a place for the men to go. And I suppose... the tarts. You don't know how hard it is for me to even go into the golf club. ' She looked at her friend. 'It's the way I've been brought up. I know you're not a tart,' she added. ' But why didn't you get married?'

Obviously amused at Polly's question, Ronnie smiled, crinkling her grey eyes. 'Me and men, we're not meant to be together. No, it was more than that,' she continued seriously, 'Gerry was the owner of the pub, recently widowed, and not looking to start another family. Hell, he had grandchildren who were getting married. Not the easiest thing for him, to face a small child.'

'I'm sorry,' Polly said.

'Nothing for you to be sorry about. Gerry was well off. He gave me enough for me to set myself up for life, pay for a house, and live reasonably well. I stopped in Sydney with my mother till she died, and then I gave up work and moved here. You know the rest.'

'What about Jenny's Dad?'

Ronnie shrugged. 'As I said, he had a large family. I think once he'd paid me the money he felt he'd done his duty. I've told Jenny her father is dead. He may be, for all I know.'

Polly didn't usually hug anyone, but she put her arm around Ronnie's shoulder and squeezed. 'Well, I don't care what you say, meeting you was the best thing that's happened to me this past year.'

'Then you've well and truly forgiven me over your daughter-in-law, Betty?

Ronnie's words surprised Polly. They'd never discussed what had happened with Betty before. It seemed strange, but Betty almost didn't exist in Polly's world. The biggest heartache she suffered continued to be her lack of contact with her grandkids. But then, she missed Johnny and Bobby and Rachel as well. 'I realise you were only trying to help her. I can't say that it's something I would ever consider, though.'

'We all make different choices, don't we?' Ronnie said, getting to her feet. 'I have Jenny. That was my choice and I wouldn't change it for the world. You've chosen to stop with Chip. I don't think I would make that choice, but it's yours.'

'I can't see any other.' Polly lowered her head for a few seconds and Ronnie didn't make any comment. 'Besides, Kathryn wouldn't want to leave her father,' she said, looking up. 'She loves him so much.'

Placing her hand on Polly's shoulder, Ronnie squeezed gently. 'She a bright girl, from what Jenny has told me. She'll leave one day, you know.'

There was some truth in Ronnie's words. Polly knew it, but she didn't want to accept her friend's attitude. Coming from the city, Ronnie seemed different from the people who lived in this area. 'I hope not. She has some wild dream of being a doctor, but that's not going to happen.'

Ronnie sat down again. 'Your daughter has to live her own life, make her own choices, just like you're doing.'

Folding her arms, Polly leant back on the seat, not wanting to argue with the older woman, but determined that Ronnie knew how she felt, that her opinion was worth something. 'I've always thought a woman's place is in the home. It's the best way to bring up kids, with a man going out to work and the woman keeping the home together. A woman going to work hasn't got the time to keep her house clean, cook good meals, but most important of all, how is she going to look after her kids if she's not there?'

With her forehead wrinkling, Ronnie nodded seriously. 'Some women don't want children.' She paused. 'I know that's hard for you to understand. Staying at home with the kids is the best way, if that's what a woman wants. But Polly, from what you've told me Kathryn is going to be very unhappy, unless she has the chance to have a career. I think she needs to have your support in this or she might turn away from both you and Chip.'

'Maybe.' Deep in thought, Polly closed her eyes. She owed a lot to her friend. Ronnie had jolted her from her lonely existence. She always seemed to know the sensible way to do things. Was she right now?

'Fancy a drink?' Ronnie stood, grabbing Polly's hand and pulling her to her feet. 'I mean a real one. I could do with a nice cold beer.'

Polly frowned. 'I don't know. I'm not used to alcohol. It goes straight to my head.'

'I'll get you a brandy, lime and soda. That won't hurt,' Ronnie said. 'I'll meet you at the ladies' lounge as soon as I put our gear in the locker.'

They walked into the clubhouse and Polly continued on into lounge, while Ronnie walked towards the locker room. Polly knew it was no use arguing over the drink. Ronnie would have her way. A couple of women and one man sat on the other side of the room, but otherwise no one was about. Polly felt relieved that she didn't know anyone, because she considered herself a harlot going into a drinking place, even a ladies' lounge.

Sliding onto the vinyl couch, she picked up a handful of salted peanuts from the laminated tabletop and began to chew them.

'Mrs. Carpenter?' The male voice sounded vaguely familiar and Polly turned to see Mr. Callaghan standing beside her.

'Polly, please,' she answered, holding out her hand. He'd called her Mrs, Carpenter for years. Doing that had been appropriate then, but now things seemed different.

Mr. Callaghan took her hand, pressing it warmly. 'You might return the favour and call me Ted. May I join you?'

Polly nodded and indicated the couch opposite, before looking in the direction of the change room. There was no sign of Ronnie. One part of her wanted Ronnie to join them, and another wished that her outspoken friend would stay away, just for a few minutes.

'What are you drinking?'

'I don't usually, but I was going to order a brandy, lime and soda.' Polly was a little flustered. Having a drink with a man other than her husband wasn't on. But the thought of how disapproving her parents might be if they were still around didn't stop the shivers of excitement tingling up her spine. She felt at least fifteen years younger.

Ted Callaghan walked to the bar and came back with two glasses. When she realised Ted was drinking plain tomato juice, Polly's embarrassment became more intense. What must he be thinking of her?

'You're not working today, Mr. Callaghan, I mean, Ted?'

'I've retired early.'

'Oh?' Ted Callaghan hadn't visited with Chip for at least six months now. It hadn't particularly surprised her as she thought the older man had found employment elsewhere. But if he were retired, she expected Mr. Callaghan would want to keep in touch with Chip. They always seemed to enjoy each other's company.

He nodded. 'My wife is very ill. I'm sixty now and decided to finish up, so I could spend time looking after her.'

'Oh.'

He smiled, apparently noting her unanswered question. 'Our daughter comes in twice a week for me to have a break. I've been taking quite a few hours getting our garden up to date, but now have extra time, so I'm planning to spend it on the golf course.'

'I play here every week now.' Polly leaned forward across the table. Ted Callaghan might be sixty, but he wasn't a heavy drinker. He looked younger than Chip and there had to be at least ten years between them. It was apparent he looked after himself.

'How's that red-ragger husband of yours going? Still taking in the Common Cause?'

Polly started and lowered her head to stare at the green tabletop. Ted Callaghan was a friend of Chip's, however she hadn't expected the older man to mention her husband. Straightening on the couch, she answered. 'Chip's okay. He's not reading as much as he used to.' She wondered for a moment how much Ted Callaghan knew about Chip's drinking. 'He's at work,' she added. Or supposed to be.

Ted nodded. 'I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to get Chip a job in a coalmine. Underground mines are a dying trend in this area. If he'd had any driving skills, I might have been able to help.'

Feeling slightly stunned at this new information, Polly didn't know what to answer. Chip hadn't mentioned any of this to her. 'Thank you,' she said. Though she wasn't quite sure what she was thanking him for.

Ted grinned again. 'Perhaps we could get together for a round of golf next Tuesday morning?'

Now her belly started to perform somersaults. Clutching her trembling hands on her knees, Polly managed to answer calmly. 'I'd love to.'

He picked up his hat from the couch. 'I'll arrange to have more time. Perhaps we could have lunch together after our game?'

Feeling ridiculously like a teenager again, Polly offered her hand. 'That's a deal,' she said.

'I look forward to next Tuesday. I'll see you then. Ten o'clock?'

Polly nodded, her eyes on his straight back as he strode towards the doorway.

'How do you know him?' Ronnie slid onto the couch beside her.

'Where have you been? I thought you'd deserted me.' Polly knew she sounded as though she was complaining, but deep down she'd taken pleasure in having time to talk to Ted without her friend being there. Sometimes Ronnie could be too overwhelming. Her presence may have spoilt the gentle conversation.

Ronnie nudged her in the ribs. 'I've been watching from the doorway. Not that you'd notice. You seemed pretty taken with the gentleman, so I thought I'd keep my distance.'

'I've arranged to play golf with him next Tuesday. Are you up for it?'

A wide grin lighting up her face, Ronnie shook her head. 'I'm not up to playing either Cupid or Gooseberry. I'll bring you here and play with some other friends.'

'You're being ridiculous. Ted's an old friend of Chip's.' Lowering her head, Polly fought against the hot flush flooding upwards from her neck into her face.

'Right,' Ronnie said, nodding slowly. 'Enjoy yourself girl. It's about time you did. Now, I'm going to forget about my drink and we'll head out to the car park. It's getting on towards time for our daughters to get home from school.'

Their journey home was unusually quiet. One minute Polly's thoughts were on Ted Callaghan and how she could get out of meeting him next week. The next minute she wondered if she truly did want to avoid him. It was only a game of golf, nothing more, definitely nothing more.

The school bell rang as Ronnie dropped Polly off. 'I have to make tracks,' Ronnie said through the car window. 'No reneging on your date with your friend.'

'It's not a date,' Polly protested. She wasn't surprised when Ronnie seemed to be able to read her mind.

'Exactly.' Waving her hand, Ronnie took off in her little red Austin.

Before turning to go into her front yard, Polly watched the car disappear down the street.

'Mum! Mum!' Kathryn's animated voice came from near the school gate.

Polly had stopped to check the letterbox and clutched a handful of bills in her hand. Opening them would definitely put a damper on the wonderful day she'd enjoyed. But she felt buoyed at Kathryn's obvious enthusiasm.

'What's happened?' Polly called.

With her cheeks flushed and eyes shining, her daughter ran across the road. 'Mr. Bunn had a quick look at our papers from the tests and he said he's pretty sure I'll get into the A class at high school.' Excitement caused the words to tumble from Kathryn's mouth.

'That's good.' Polly smiled as Kathryn opened the front gate to run past her mother, and down the path to the backyard, where her swing hung from the mulberry tree. Her daughter might be growing up, but she continued to enjoy her childish activities.

A strange sensation grabbed at Polly's heart as she watched Kathryn swinging back and forth. Maybe Kathryn would go to university, become a doctor and make something of herself. Maybe Chip was right. Maybe she should take Ronnie's advice. Polly shrugged. Whatever happened would be for the best.

Glancing at her watch, she hurried down the path towards the front door. She didn't have time for dilly-dallying; she was late. It was time to cook their evening meal. Chip could be on his way home.

END

Other titles by Janice Gallen at Smashwords:

Eve's Christmas: <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/393154>

A passionate Judgement <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/416770>

The Spaniard's Suspicio <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/416770>

Always <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/331486>

Up the River <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/332199>.

Connect with Janice Online:

www.janicegallen.com

Twitter mailto:: <http://twitter.com/@JaniceGallen>

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