Step hoped that the man would stop somewhere and leave the car behind. After all, a police car was going to be easy to find. However, the man drove furiously out of the city until Step could see gum trees flashing by the windows when he looked up.
Finally the police car came to a standstill and Phineas opened the door. A swirl of dust entered the cabin causing Step to sneeze violently. Phineas looked over to the back and swore loudly.
“Where on earth did you come from? You’ll have to come with me or you’ll be be lettin’ the cops know my location.”
Fearing for his life at the hands of a convicted criminal, Step half ran and was half dragged into a shed where he was bundled into an old ute which smelt of cigarettes and dog. Phineas turned the key but the ute only gave a low moan.
“Battery!” he muttered. Back in the police car he drove close to the ute and then attached some jumper leads to the batteries in both cars. Diving into the ute he tried the ignition and the engine roared into life. Removing the jumper leads he drove out of the shed, parked and then drove the police car into the shed, closing the door.
“That should keep them searching for a while,” he exclaimed and leapt back into the ute, which had been running all this time.
Step was frozen with fear but eventually plucked up the courage to ask, “What are you going to do with me?”
“You think I’m going to hurt you, don’t you? I’m not a killer. I didn’t shoot that husband and wife although the judge gave me 25 years for a crime I didn’t commit.”
“But Sad saw you. He testified in court. He saw your hand and your tattoos.”
“Yes, I was there, but only after the attack took place. We were only going to rob the place. My partner got scared and shot two people. He’s the one who should be in gaol. That’s why I escaped. I’ve got to find him and bring him to court. He’s sitting somewhere nice and comfy while I get 25 years.”
Step didn’t know whether to believe the man as this mysterious missing person had not been mentioned before.
“Why didn’t you tell the judge what happened?”
“My legal counsel said not to. I realise now he was being paid by my partner to keep him out of it. I was dudded.”
“I don’t see how you are going to get him to tell the truth. After all, you are the one the police are after. When they catch you, your partner will go free.” Step was trying to understand what Phineas planned to do.
“Look, we used to be mates. A mate doesn’t let his friend go to prison for something he hasn’t done. I’ve got to talk to him and make him see reason.”
All the while they had been travelling upwards. The road wound around the cliffs, zig zagging its way to the top. It was a moonlit night and Phineas kept on only the parking lights. Phineas seemed to know where he was going. Reaching a metal gate, he turned off the lights and opened it wide enough to drive the car through.
“Close the gate, will you,” said Phineas.
Step leapt out of the ute. Now was his chance to escape but where would he go? He was curious to see what would happen when Phineas confronted his mate but decided to keep well out of sight when that happened. After all, if Phineas was correct, the other man had attempted a murder. What he would do to Phineas was anyone’s guess.
So he closed the gate and went to get back in the ute.
‘Climb in the back,” said Phineas. “Get under the tarp. Safer.”
Step did as he was told. The car drove slowly up a rough driveway. Peeping out from the tarpaulin he could see a dim light coming from what appeared to be a farmhouse. As the car stopped the front door opened wide and a burly figure was silhouetted against the light.
“Thought I’d see you sooner or later,” said the burly man.
“We’ve got some talking to do,” said Phineas.
The men disappeared into the house and closed the front door. Step had to know what was happening so he quietly dropped off the back of the ute and crept up to a window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the men. Moving around the house he finally heard voices and peered through a chink in the curtain. To his surprise he saw the two men stretched out on lounge chairs drinking what looked to be bottles of beer. They appeared to be two mates having a quiet yarn, not two criminals intent on killing each other.
Making his way back to the ute, Step noticed the keys were still in the ignition. A thought crossed his mind. If he could start the car and drive it to a town he could get help from the police and direct them to the farmhouse. He had never driven a car but had watched other people do it heaps of times. Of course he would have to stop at the gate and undo it and then he would have no idea where he was going. The man in the house would surely have a car and he would follow him. What would happen if he caught him?
Step saw that he had no option but to try. He climbed in the driver’s seat and turned the key.
Weeks went by and no more news about Sad was heard. Step worried about his friend and hoped that he was just in hiding, maybe with a new identity.
Step’s roommate was Tom, who was in second year at the local high school. Tom was now a different boy to the one Step was forced to share a room with at the Zipporah Magillacuddy Home. When Step, Tear and Sad were in trouble for hiding a girl in the attic, Step had to share with the most unpopular boy in the home. Although he didn’t know it, Step had turned Tom’s life around and despite their age difference, they were now the best of friends.
It was several months into the year and the cool winds of Autumn were blowing leaves along the street as Step walked home from school one Friday afternoon. He was deep in thought about a project he was working on. He had already been to the local public library to find a book on Australian explorers. He was planning a relief map of NSW using papier-mache, showing the Great Dividing Range and the major rivers and then painting the path of various explorers in different colours. It would be about the size of a small table and he was wondering where he could obtain the wood. He caught sight of Tom at the front gate and discussed his problem. Tom suggested going to the local joinery to look for offcuts and taking the dog for a walk at the same time.
Nurse Smiley and Dr Goodheart had a large, friendly dog called Woof who wasn’t allowed in the house except when going for walks. Then he would patter along the corridor from the small back yard to the front door, have his lead clipped on and off he would go with one of his owners. Sometimes Tom was allowed to take him for walks but Step was considered too young to control such a big dog. He still like to play with him in the garden and was teaching him to shake hands and roll over.
Woof was very excited to be going out, so after letting Nurse Smiley know where they were going, the two boys and dog set off for the timber yard. The owner was friendly and let them look through the scrap timber for something suitable. Tom pulled out a piece of three ply that was exactly the right size.
“Now all you need is newspaper, glue and paint,” said Tom. “I’ll bet Nurse Smiley knows how to make the glue.”
Woof was pulling hard to keep moving. Tom was holding the wood in his other hand and lost his grip on the lead. The dog leapt over the piles of timber and ran out the gate of the timber yard. Tom thrust the wood into Step’s hands and began to chase after the dog. Not wanting to lose his precious timber Step couldn’t keep up and was soon totally lost in a maze of unfamiliar streets. How could he find his way home and what would Nurse Smiley say when he told them he had lost both Tom and Woof ?
He thought back to his experience in Tumbarumba after escaping from a farm where he was being held captive. A policeman had found him sheltering in a doorway and taken him for a night in the police cells. It was dry and warm in the cell and next day another policeman had driven him back to the orphanage. All he had to do was find a policeman and he would end up home again.
There was no one around in the narrow lane where he found himself. In the distance street lights were coming on as darkness fell. He must find a busy road. Clutching his wood he made his way towards the lights, searching in vain for a police car. Finally, pulled up at the traffic lights, was what Step had been looking for. Lights flashing, with the sign POLICE on the roof, it was a welcome sight.
Step tapped on the window, which opened up in front of him. Two police, one male and one female, were in the front seats.
“I’m lost,” said Step. “Please could you take me home?”
“Hop in,” said the lady. “We’ll take you to the station.”
As the lights changed and the car moved forward, a message came over the car radio.
“All units report to 16 Collins Street. I repeat, all units to report to 16 Collins Street immediately. This is high priority.”
“We just have to make a detour,” said the male policeman. “Just crouch down in the back seat so no one can see you and you will be all right.”
The two police leapt out of the car after arriving and dashed into a building. Sirens were wailing all around them. Step noticed the keys were still in the ignition but the engine was turned off. A minute later a man jumped into the car and began driving at great speed away from the area. Peering between the front seats Step saw with horror that the man had a short little finger on his left hand. The left arm also had a tattoo of a dragon. Step couldn’t see anything else but surely this was Phineas Crowe, the escaped prisoner!
It was several weeks into the school term when Byron raced up to Step in a state of great excitement.
“Dad says you can come over and stay for the weekend. That is, if you want to. He’s also arranged for Tear to come as well, to keep my sister company. Will you come? Please, please.”
Step thought back to his last visit. Byron had behaved in an immature and selfish manner and really spoilt the visit for the others but he seemed to have changed, so Step nodded enthusiastically and said he would check with Nurse Smiley and Dr Goodheart.
On Saturday morning the blue and white Ford Fairlane pulled up outside the terrace house where Step lived. He scrambled into the back seat while Byron’s dad put his bag in the boot. Bethany and Byron were already there but they still had to go to Tear’s house to pick her up.
Step wondered where Tear lived now and how she was settling in with her new family. He found out fifteen minutes later as the car pulled up outside a small semi-detached house. On the front veranda Tear stood beside her mother, who was holding the new baby. They exchanged hugs and farewells before Tear climbed into the front seat next to Byron’s dad. She turned to look at the three children in the back seat.
“I can’t believe this is happening. Lovely to see you again, Bethany and…..Byron. Oh Step, are you OK? Is everything all right with Nurse Smiley and Dr Goodheart? How is your new school? How did you find Byron and Bethany?”
“OK, slow down,” said Step. “Everything is fine and Byron goes to my school so we are friends. What about you? How is your new dad? Does he treat you well?”
“Oh yes! I have to help a lot with the baby but I enjoy doing that and it gives my mum a break as she is always tired. My new dad is away at work a lot so I don’t see much of him. He’s promised to be home all weekend to help mum while I’m away.”
The four children chatted constantly on the way to Byron and Bethany’s house. They had to cross the Sydney Harbour Bridge and drive along windy and hilly roads until they reached the semi-circular driveway in front of the imposing villa.
Step waved to Tear as she disappeared with Bethany. He wished he could talk to her some more but resigned himself to a weekend with Byron. He was fearful that it would turn out like last time, with Byron losing his temper when things didn’t go his way.
Byron seemed genuinely different. He asked Step what he would like to do and didn’t complain even when he lost at some game or other.
Byron turned on the TV. “I watch the news now so that I can keep up with what is happening in the world.”
The TV screen showed a newsreader talking. A headline flashed across the screen. CONVICTED CRIMINAL ESCAPES GAOL
“Quick, turn the sound up,” said Step. “That face looks familiar.”
Sure enough, it was the man who had attacked Sad’s aunt and uncle. Sad had just testified in court with the result that the man had been sentenced to 25 years gaol. Apparently the man had hidden in a dirty clothes basket and been carried out to freedom in a laundry truck.
Step quickly told Byron the whole story. He was worried that Sad might be in danger as the escaped prisoner could be seeking revenge on the boy who put him away.
“He would be too busy trying to escape recapture to hurt Sad, surely,” said Byron. “I wonder if there is anything we can do to help?”
“We can tell Tear and Bethany. After all, Tear is Sad’s friend, so she might know what we can do.”
Tear was shocked when she heard the news but couldn’t think of any way to help except to warn Sad.
“Maybe we can ask Byron’s dad or mum if we can use the phone? We need to get Sad’s phone number but only Nurse Smiley would know that. I say we ring Nurse Smiley.”
Byron’s mum was resting in her room but they found Byron’s dad in his study. He listened carefully to the story told by Step, with occasional interruptions from Tear and agreed to ring the house where Step lived.
Asking the children to wait outside the glass French doors, he dialled the phone and could be seen talking to someone.
Ushering them back in the room, he sat down and ran his hands through his hair.
“Nurse Smiley is going to contact Sad’s parents although I’m sure they are aware of the situation. I think it best if you just try to continue enjoying your weekend as there is nothing you can do. I’m sure Sad will be protected if necessary.”
Step had to admit he enjoyed his stay with Byron and Bethany. He realised how much he had missed Tear and was able to spend some time catching up on her news. However, an uneasy feeling lurked in the back of his mind as he thought of Sad and the danger he might be in.
That feeling became stronger when he arrived back at the terrace house. The TV was on and Nurse Smiley, Dr Goodheart, Peter, Tom, Rose and Wattle were clustered around it.
“Step,” Nurse Smiley stood between him and the TV screen. “Come into the kitchen with me please.”
She sat him down and held both his hands.
“It seems that Sad has disappeared. The police think he may have been kidnapped by Phineas Crowe, the man who attacked his aunt and uncle. Believe me, they are doing everything they can to get him back.”
As Step walked to his new school with Rose and Wattle chatting just in front if him, he felt the loss of his two friends keenly. They would be starting school today as well but in another part of the city, making new friends and going home to their parents each afternoon. He hadn’t felt so alone since his father bid a hasty goodbye at the front door of the Opera Orphanage for Unwanted Children all those years ago. How could he bear the future without his closest friends? He considered slipping into one of the narrow alleyways and spending the day roaming the area but common sense took over and he resigned himself to what lay ahead. After all, Miss Smiley had trusted them to get to school on their own and he couldn’t let her down.
Step and the girls would be starting Fourth class. Their new school was much larger than the one at Clifton Beach, so their arrival was not as disruptive and they were spread out across three classes. Scanning the room for friendly faces, Step was amazed to see a very familiar one glowering in the back row.
It was Byron. Why would he be going to this school? He lived in one of the leafy suburbs on the North Shore. It was a puzzle he intended to solve as he sat down next to the obviously unhappy boy.
Byron looked at him with a snarl on his face but his expression changed to one of surprise when he saw who it was.
“Step! I’m so pleased to see you! Mate, you don’t how good it is to see a familiar face.”
Encouraged by Byron’s warm reception Step was about to ask what had happened to him when the teacher demanded silence and began speaking.
“Welcome to 4W at Underbury Public School. My name is Mr Ward and I am a kind and considerate teacher IF you are a kind and considerate pupil. HOWEVER, don’t think you can try any silly business with me or you will find I have turned into someone who will make your life unbearable. He caught the eyes of each and every student. UNDERSTOOD?
“Yes, sir, “ they answered in unison.
Mr Ward handed out exercise books and the morning was spent labelling them and designing title pages. There was no opportunity to talk as the teacher demanded absolute silence when he wasn’t talking about the year ahead. He mentioned a school camp and an excursion to the museum. Maybe, thought Step, this might be a better year than he had expected. Now that Byron was here, at least he knew someone.
It wasn’t until playtime that he was able to ask Byron the burning question. What was he doing at Underbury?
Byron looked sheepish. “I was expelled from my last school so Dad had to find another school that would take me. He works in the city, not far from here, so he thought he could keep an eye on me. If I step out of line, he will be here like a shot.”
“What did you do to get expelled?” Step asked breathlessly. It seemed like a terrible thing to be so bad that you were forcibly ejected from your school.
“I threw a chair across the room and the stupid teacher stood in front of it and broke her hand. I had no intention of hurting anyone. I was just really angry because she always blamed me for everything and this time it wasn’t my fault. She said I stole her purse because I was in the classroom at lunchtime. I mean, who leaves their money in an unlocked classroom?”
“Did you steal it?” Step asked quietly.
“No, of course not. And I know who did, but I don’t tell tales, so I got the blame.”
“So were you expelled for hurting the teacher or stealing the purse?
“Both, I s’pose. I’ve got a short fuse, as you know.” He grinned at Step. “It wasn’t the first time I was in trouble, so the school said, ‘Enough is enough’ and I was out on my ear. If I get into trouble at this school Dad is sending me to a strict boarding school where I can only go home for Christmas.”
“Well, its good to have a fresh start and I hope you’ll be my friend because I don’t know anyone here, except Rose and Wattle, and they don’t count because I don’t like them much anyway.”
“We are mates,” Byron put both hands on Step’s shoulders. “You are the only person who ever understood me. Together we will show this school who’s in charge.”
Step wasn’t sure what Byron meant by that but at least he no longer felt alone. Nevertheless he would have to do his best to keep Byron on the straight and narrow. The year ahead was promising to be much more interesting than he had imagined.
Step was very troubled. He knew he should be happy for his friends but he felt his whole world was turning upside down. Sad had visited the orphanage for one day to say he had testified in court and put the bad man back in gaol. Not only that but he was back home with his parents and would be starting a new school next year. Tear went out for the day with her mother and it looked as though she too might be leaving the orphanage. To top all that off the Zipporah Magillacuddy Childrens’ Home was to be sold and all remaining orphans were to go to Foster Parents or Group Homes.
Step held little hope that his father’s ship would come in, whatever that meant. His Step Mother had not wanted him and said that they didn’t have enough money to look after three people so he had to go. He didn’t want to live in the same house as her anyway as she was cruel to him behind his father’s back.
At least Tom was now friendly and was doing so well at school he was moved out of the class of rowdy children into a much quieter one where he was able to concentrate on his work.
Tear came back from her second outing with her mother bearing some exciting news.
“My mother is having a baby and wants me to come and live with her to help look after it. Her new husband only just found out about me and said he would never have turned me away if he had known I existed. I’m moving out next week, as soon as they have my room ready.”
Step forced a smile and wished Tear all the best. With Sad gone and now Tear about to leave he felt unsure and insecure. All too soon the school term ended and the remaining orphans stood in the hallway of the Zipporah Magillacuddy Childrens’ Home, small suitcases in hands, ready for the great unknown. Matron and Nurse Smiley, usually so informative, had told them only that they were going to a Group House. Maybe even they didn’t know what lay ahead for their young charges.
There were only five orphans left. All the others had gone to Foster Homes or, in the case of Tear and Sad, to live with their parents. Step and Tom, Rose and Wattle and 15 year old Peter were the children nobody wanted.
Nurse Smiley called them outside to board a minibus. They travelled away from the sunny coast, past outer suburban blocks until they reached narrow inner-city streets where the houses were joined together in uniform rows. Each had an upstairs balcony of fancy lacework and a tiny garden in front of an equally tiny verandah. The minibus stopped outside one of the houses and Nurse Smiley indicated they were to go inside along a dark corridor until they reached a large, brightly lit kitchen with a long dining table in the centre. Here they all sat down around the table with Nurse Smiley and a strange man.
“May I introduce Doctor Goodheart,” Nurse Smiley began. “As you know, I was recently married and this is my husband. He works at the big hospital near here so that is why we have bought a house in this area. It had to be a big house because…”. She paused and looked around at the orphans with a smile. “While I wanted to keep working as a nurse, we know that married women are expected to be at home. I certainly didn’t want to just do housework and cook meals every day so we thought if we fostered the remaining orphans it would give me something worthwhile to do and solve the problem of where you will live. We have three bedrooms upstairs and will turn the downstairs dining room into a bedroom for Peter. The girls will share and so will Step and Tom. What do you all think?”
The relief felt by all the orphans was so great that some started crying. It looked as though everything was going to be all right.
I suppose you have been wondering what happened to Sad when he went away with the Police Foster Parents?
As you can imagine, he was very, very scared. As he looked out the window in the speeding car he examined every man walking by who looked like a criminal. He recalled the attacker was quite short, with greasy long black hair and a scruffy, badly trimmed beard. On his arms were tattoos of dragons, a heart with an arrow through it and several grisly skulls.
Sad was sure he would know him again because on his left hand his little finger was partly missing at the knuckle. That and a damaged nose with a bend to the right made him quite memorable.
Forcing himself to think back to that dreadful day when his life changed, he remembered visiting his Aunt Gladys and Uncle Ted. His parents were going on a holiday and his aunt and uncle had enthusiastically offered to babysit Sad for a whole week while they were away. He liked his aunt and uncle. They had no children of their own and loved to spoil him, giving him lots of ice-cream and lollies to eat and taking him to parks and beaches whenever he wanted to go.
They were eating lunch one day and Sad was looking forward to his ice-cream, when there was a knock at the door.
“See who that is, will you?” said Aunt Gladys to Uncle Ted. He lumbered to the door and the next thing Sad heard was a Bang! and a Thud!
“Goodness, what was that?” cried Aunt Gladys. She raced into the hallway and Sad heard another Bang! and a Thud!
Sad knew that if he ventured into the hallway there would be another Bang! followed by the sound of himself hitting the floor so he quickly hid under the table, which had an oversized cloth reaching almost to the floor.
He could hear heavy boots approaching the kitchen. He could see them stop just short of his face. They were old and brown with loose laces. He held his breath. The boots moved away to another room so he made the most of the opportunity to run to the back door.
“Hey!” called a rough voice. Sad turned and saw the man front on, with his long greasy black hair, his funny bent nose, the tattoos on his arms, and the hand with the short little finger pointing towards him. In the other hand was a gun, but Sad didn’t wait to see if it had any bullets in it. He scampered out the back door and ran through the yard, squeezing through a hole in the fence. On the other side was a bushy hillside where he knew he could hide and not be found.
Crouched in a burnt-out tree trunk he waited until dark. Carefully creeping back towards the house he saw there were no lights. Too scared to go inside he decided to get as far away as possible. Walking toward the town he kept in the shadows until he reached the railway station. A train puffed into the station and several people climbed on board. He followed a family of two grown-ups and two children, pretending to be the little brother. As soon as they were on the train, he hid in the toilet for at least an hour until he felt safe. A few people banged on the door but he kept it locked. Eventually he opened the door and saw that they were pulling into Central Railway Station. Again, he attached himself to the back of a family and the man at the gate didn’t seem to notice he didn’t have a ticket.
Wandering aimlessly along city streets in the middle of the night, Sad was unsure of what to do except he knew he must stay hidden. Thoughts of contacting his mother and father were put to one side. The awful man might shoot them as well. He just had to become someone else for as long as it took.
That is when he chanced upon the Opera Orphanage for Unwanted Children. What a perfect place to hide! If he couldn’t speak, they couldn’t find out who his parents were and so they would be safe.
His plan had worked well until the fire. As the only person who knew of the danger all the children were in, Sad had to warn them and speak. However, he still refused to tell Matron or Nurse Smiley anything about his past.
Until now, that is. He didn’t know the man had been picked up near the crime scene and put in gaol after a court case based on circumstantial evidence. Then two years later his sister, who lived nearby, said he had been at her house all day and night and only went outside to take out the garbage. Why she didn’t say anything during the court case the police couldn’t determine but the judge decided the prisoner deserved the benefit of the doubt and should be freed.
Sad was a great asset to the police as a witness. The man was picked up the same day and put back into prison pending a court case. Sad should have felt safe but he didn’t. What if the man escaped and came after him?
The thing that cheered Sad up immensely was the reunion with his parents. They had kept hoping all this time that he was still alive and their joy was overwhelming. They kept looking at his face and exclaiming how much he’d grown and then hugging him so tightly he could hardly breathe. He was allowed to go with them to his old home as the gunman was safely locked up. The other good news was that his aunt and uncle were alive and had made a remarkable recovery from their wounds.
The day of the court case arrived. Sad was nervous but glad that the time had come to keep this man in jail for a long time. He hoped he wouldn’t have to look at him but the first thing he was shown was a police lineup of six men. He was asked to identify the gunman and had no hesitation in naming him, even though his hair was now short and his facial hair removed. He was 100% certain this was the man who shot his aunt and uncle and threatened him with a gun in their home.
The defence counsel tried to say that Sad didn’t actually see the shooting take place and that someone else could have done it. The man with the gun may have been an accomplice and not been involved in the attack.
However the Crown Prosecutor argued that the bullets found at the crime scene belonged to the gun found in his hand when he was apprehended by police that afternoon so the judge thought that was a good enough reason to lock him up.
Sad’s life was back to normal but he longed to see Step and Tear. It was almost the end of the school year, so Sad didn’t have to start at his new school until after the holidays. At last his parents agreed to take him back to the orphanage for one day to see his friends and to inform Matron of all that had happened. He would have so much to tell them.
Step and Tear missed Sad very much and hoped he was happy with his police foster parents. They soon had other worries as men in suits arrived carrying briefcases and marching around with important looking folders. None of the orphans knew what was going on and most were not too worried but Step and Tear felt an ominous dread creeping over them as the days went by. When a group meeting was called by Matron and Nurse Smiley they knew that the news would not be good.
“First I wish to tell you all that you have no need to worry about the news I am about to give you.” Matron looked around the room with an uncharacteristic smile which had them all worried straight away.
“It seems the State Government has a new policy regarding orphanages. The feeling is that they are too expensive to run and it is better for children to be with a foster care family.”
“But, but, but, we are all here because the foster families don’t want us,” stammered Tear. “How is that going to change?”
“If the government sells all the orphanages they can use the money to pay foster carers so they will have more incentive to take on a child,” answered Matron patiently.
Step spoke up angrily. “This house was left to us, not the government. How can they take it away from us?”
“The government is responsible for the repairs and employing the cook , the cleaners and the gardener. The cost of maintaining an old house like this is just unimaginable. The experts also feel you would all be happier in a smaller home living like a real family.” Matron paused.
“I also have to tell you that at the end of this year I am retiring and going to live with my sister in the city.” She looked at Nurse Smiley who blushed self-consciously.
“And Nurse Smiley is going to be married and so will stop working for a living and instead look after her home and husband.”
Step and Tear looked at each other with concern. The solid sense of security which had enveloped them since their arrival at the Zipporah Magillicuddy Childrens’ Home was gone in an instant. Visions of mean and nasty foster parents grasping at bank notes filled their heads.
“We must do something,” Tear announced to those around her. “I’m not going without a fight.”
“It’s all hopeless,” Step moaned. “Matron and Nurse Smiley are leaving anyway. Even if we could save the orphanage who would run it? Things would never be the same with someone else.”
Tear, however, was determined to do everything she could. She made flyers to put in letterboxes, borrowing the gestetner machine at the orphanage to run off her eye-catching signs. She organised petitions in all the local shops so that people could read about their dilemma and sign if they wanted to help. When Matron called her to her office she wondered if she was in trouble for all the fuss she was causing, but she soon found it was about a different matter entirely.
Matron looked at her thoughtfully before speaking. “This may come as a shock to you, Tear, but I have a letter from your mother.”
Tear sat up suddenly, recalling the day her mother took her out without telling her who she was until she dropped her off at the orphanage late in the evening. It had been a wonderful day with lots of delicious food, a visit to Luna Park and the pictures. Her mother had told her she would probably never see her again because her new husband didn’t know of her existence and likely wouldn’t approve. She wondered what caused her mother to contact Matron.
“Your mother says that she wants to take you out on Saturday. She says circumstances have changed and she wants to tell you more when she sees you.” Matron frowned. “I didn’t know you had made contact with your mother?”
Tear looked up guiltily. “She told me not to say anything. Her new husband didn’t know about me so she wanted to keep it a secret from everyone.”
“Maybe things have changed for your mother,” said Matron carefully. “Just don’t get your hopes up too much.”
Tear was bursting with excitement all week but she didn’t tell Step because he would feel abandoned if she was planning to leave. It also dampened her enthusiasm for saving the orphanage because if she was leaving what was the point of saving it?
Tear decided that one of two things had happened. One possibility was that her mother was no longer with the new husband and was free to claim her daughter back. The other was that the new husband found out about her and wanted her to be part of the family. That would be nice, she thought. A happy family of three and maybe later, some brothers or sisters.
Saturday morning arrived bright and sparkling, the blue sea glittering outside Tear’s bedroom window while she dressed. She realised how much she loved this house and how sorry she would be to see it empty and deserted or maybe even demolished to make way for blocks of flats.
No longer did the children line up in rows waiting for the foster parents to examine them. That belonged to the dark ages of the old orphanage which perished in the fire. Instead, Nurse Smiley quietly approached Tear in the Rec Room and said there was someone to see her. Step looked at her quizzically but she just shrugged and smiled as she walked away.
Her mother stood up from her seat, looking much larger than the last time Tear saw her. She realised her mother must be pregnant and hoped this meant her dream of a proper family might come true.
“Come with me, Tear. I have so much to tell you, but not here!” She wrinkled her nose and looked around at the dilapidated house.
Tear walked outside and climbed into a comfortable car. As she drove, her mother concentrated hard on the traffic and murmured, “Soon all will be explained.”
Schooldays became more pleasant for the orphans as Miss Apple proved to be a kind and considerate teacher and Sad even mastered Folk Dancing in Kindergarten.
Step and Tear were in class one day when Miss Apple turned on the wireless for the broadcast of “Tales of Many Lands”. Someone had moved the dial and they caught the start of a news broadcast on another station.
“A man who attacked a husband and wife was released from prison today on appeal after serving two years for attempted murder. His sentence was overturned on a technicality as there were no witnesses to the attacks and he was able to establish an alibi after the trial.”
Miss Apple quickly changed the station and the familiar music drew the children’s attention to life in India as they listened and studied their worksheets.
On the way home Step casually remarked on the news item. Sad suddenly froze, rooted to the spot.
“What was his name?”
“I don’t know,” said Step. “It just said he attacked a husband and wife. It must have been more than two years ago. They let him go because nobody saw it happen and now someone can vouch that he was somewhere else at the time of the murder.”
Sad was silent the rest of the way home. He went straight to his room and lay face down on the bed. Step looked in on him and asked if he was all right but there was no answer. He had a sneaking suspicion that it was something to do with the released prisoner but felt unable to help.
“Let’s get hold of a newspaper in the morning,” suggested Tear. “We might be able to find out more information. I know that Fred the gardener brings the Daily Telegraph with him in the mornings and leaves it on the back step while he works. He comes back for it when he has his smoko.”
Step and Tear were up very early the next morning. They met at the back step where the newspaper lay folded neatly on the cement. The front page screamed loud headlines.
“ Prisoner Let Loose. Missing Witness in Danger”
The article went on to say that the only witness to the attack was a small boy who disappeared shortly after the event. Police had not been able to trace him but now the suspected attacker was released, the boy’s life was in danger if he was found.
Step and Tear looked at each other. “It must be Sad!” said Step. “He must have run away from the crime scene and then turned up at the orphanage refusing to speak until the fire caused him to start speaking again.”
“He should be safe here,” said Tear thoughtfully. “Surely the prisoner wouldn’t suspect he was in an orphanage.”
“I think it’s an obvious place for him to be. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was checking them all out now.” Step looked scared.
“We need to make sure this is the person Sad is afraid of,” said Tear, pointing at the black and white photo of a man on the front page of the newspaper.
“What will Fred think if the front page is missing off his newspaper? said Step.
“Maybe the wind blew it away,” suggested Tear mischievously as she tore the picture out of the page. “Let’s get out of here.”
Five minutes later Sad was staring at the photo with an anguished look on his face but refusing to speak.
“Just nod if you know this man,” said Step.
Sad nodded slowly.
“We have two choices,” said Step. “One is we hide you in the attic if we see any strange men hanging around or two, we go to the police and they protect you until you testify in court and have him locked up behind bars again.
Tear commented that unless Sad could talk again there wasn’t much point going to the police.
“What do you want us to do?” she asked, looking into his face earnestly.
“Police,” His voice croaked like a rusty gate but at least he was talking again. “I can’t hide any more.”
The three children marched to Matron’s office and Step knocked loudly on the door.
Matron’s deep voice called them to come in.
Step placed the photo on her desk and poured out the whole story. Tear added anything she thought he had left out but Sad remained silent and withdrawn, huddled in his own misery.
Matron looked at Sad and said in a kind voice, “If you want to testify we will do everything we can to keep you safe. Is that what you want to do?”
Sad nodded glumly so Matron picked up the big black telephone receiver and dialled the number of the city police.
There were no police cars with sirens or men in uniform. About an hour after Matron’s phone call a green Holden sedan pulled up in front of the house and a man and a woman dressed in ordinary clothes climbed the steps to the front door. Nurse Smiley ushered them inside and only then did they produce their police identification. For about an hour they talked to Sad in Matron’s office before reappearing in the hallway. Step and Tear had been watching from the landing of the staircase but had to move when they saw Nurse Smiley bringing Sad upstairs.
“Sad is going to live with some Foster Parents,” said Nurse Smiley brightly. “We’ll have to pack a suitcase.”
“Best of luck, Sad. I know everything will be all right,” said Tear.
Step gave him a hug. “Look after yourself, mate. We’ll be thinking of you.”
Step and Tear watched as their small friend left the orphanage with the two plain clothes police officers. Would they ever see Sad again?
Mrs Harris waited until the 38 children had found their seats. She waved her arms for silence and smiled grimly at the class. “Out of the six new children in this class I have selected four to go up to the Primary,” she said.
Tear was first. She grabbed her books and stood in readiness to leave. Biff and Rose were selected. Step held his breath. He wanted to be with Tear but he was afraid to go into Third class with the big kids.
Anyway he was rubbish at school, wasn’t he?
“Step, would you join the others please and take this note to Mr P?” Mrs Harris ushered them out the door and pointed in the direction of a low brick building on the opposite side of the playground.
As Step had the note he felt obliged to be the leader, so knocked on a door which said Mr Pennypole, Primary classes 3 to 6, School Principal.
Mr P glowered at the children. His face resembled an overripe tomato and was getting redder by the minute.
“There is no room for you!” he yelled. “Go next door and I will send you a supervisor.”
There were a few desks and chairs scattered around the next door room so the orphans lined them up to face the board and sat down tentatively. A few minutes later a girl only a few years older than themselves arrived with four more children following.
Mr Pennypole has appointed me as your teacher,” she said smugly. “My name is Miss Pennypole and I won’t take any nonsense from you.” In her hand she held a cane which she brought smashing down on Biff’s hand.
“What did I do?” cried Biff angrily. “That really hurt.”
Down came the cane again on Biff’s hand.
“Silence!” screamed Miss Pennypole.
Mr P rushed into the room.
“What is going on? Penelope?” He looked angrily at the class.
“Nothing Dad, er Mr P. Just settling down this rowdy lot.”
Mr P sighed and looked crossly at the children. “Now I want all of you to write me a composition about what you did in the holidays. Not a sound from any of you and I expect at least two pages.”
Step thought about the orphanage fire, his time at the farm, their new home by the sea, hiding Ruth in the attic, visiting her in hospital and now the good news that she was to live with Aunt Ella. He wrote rapidly and was on to his fourth page when a cane smashed down in front of him. Fortunately it missed his fingers.
“What terrible writing,” screeched Miss Pennypole. “I want you to start that again and write it perfectly this time.” She picked up Tear’s book. “Now this is what I’m looking for. What beautiful writing! Would you read it to the class please, er Tear. What a strange name.”
Tear stood up and read grimly, her eyes stony.
The school holiday began with great excitement as I left with my mother and father for Surfers Paradise. We stayed in a beautiful hotel by the sea and ate in the sunny breakfast room each morning. Every day we swam happily in the warm, foamy water. My father bought me a neopolitan icecream and my mother packed a tasty picnic to have at the beach. One starry night we walked up the hill to the picture theatre to see “The Wizard of Oz”.
Finally we had to drive home in Dad’s new car. He said there would be a surprise for me when we arrived. It was a tiny little puppy inside a box. I have called him Snowy.
Tear looked up at Miss Pennypole who looked positively green with envy.
“Aren’t you the lucky one,” she said.
The bell rang and they waited for instructions. Miss Pennypole walked out of the room so they followed and found their playlunch, drank their milk and quietly talked amongst themselves.
“That composition you wrote was a pack of lies,” said Rose to Tear. “Holidaying in Surfers Paradise, my foot.”
“Why not write about what you would like to happen?” Tear answered sadly. “Anyway, Miss Pennypole is not a teacher. She’s Mr P’s daughter and only about twelve if she’s a day.”
The hours passed slowly, with Mr P rushing into the room checking up on his daughter and the class, dropping off boring worksheets and coloured pencils for their art lesson when Miss Pennypole asked them to draw a vase of flowers from their imagination.
Tear had that steely, hard look on her face all the way home to the orphanage. She refused to speak and went straight to Matron’s office. When she came out there was a little smile on her face but she refused to talk to the others about what she had said to Matron.
What they didn’t know was that tomorrow Tear would be eight years old and that Matron had told her she could have anything she wanted for breakfast. She had chosen crepes with strawberries and cream but decided to keep it a secret from her friends.
Morning came but no one knew it was Tear’s birthday. No-one except Matron of course. When the children lined up for their porridge Tear sat at the table with her empty plate.
“What’s up, Tear?” asked Step. “Aren’t you hungry today? Worried about Miss Pennypole and her whacky stick?”
Before she could answer the cook walked in with a huge pile of thin, buttery crepes, all crunchy round the edges. He placed the plate in front of Tear, while Nurse Smiley carried two bowls of strawberries and cream. She started singing “Happy Birthday” to Tear and the others joined in.
“There’s enough for you all,” said Tear. “Come on, let’s get started.”
“Is that why you went to see Matron?” asked Step. “To tell her it was your birthday.”
“Of course not,” said Tear. “Just you wait and see.”
As they lined up for assembly, Step could see three teachers out the front. Mr P stepped up and spoke in a booming voice.
“I would like you all to meet our new teacher, Miss Apple. She will be taking the new Third/Fourth composite class.
They dutifully said, “Good morning Miss Apple” and wondered what lay ahead.
The first day of school dawned cool and sunny. Step, Tear and Sad all donned their uniforms for Seacliff Beach School while Tom put on his grey trousers, white shirt and blue jumper for Middlemount High School. He seemed to have recovered from his bad mood and wished Step good luck on his first day. Step was pleased they appeared to be friends again and hoped that Tom would have a good day as well.
While Tom and three others caught the bus to high school, it was only a short walk for the remaining twelve orphans to their new school. They stopped at the gate while Nurse Smiley went inside to inform the Headmaster of their arrival. He walked down the wooden steps and asked them to form a boys’ and a girls’ line and then line up in order of age. Sad was at the end of the boys’ line feeling very small, with Step, Biff and Mark in front of him. Tear was at the back of her line with Rose, Wattle and Cherry close by. The bigger children were sent to the Primary section of the school while eight of them were to go to the Infants. They were introduced to the Infants’ Mistress, Miss Cruikshank, who told them if any of them misbehaved they would get the cane. She also told them that they had made the classes very large, and the teachers were not happy about all the extra work they would have to do so they had better be on their best behaviour.
Sad waved goodbye to the others as he was taken to his Kindergarten room. Step, Tear and the others were put into the Second class which was already full of children. The teacher, Mrs Harris, sent for more chairs and tables so they finally had a place to sit. She told them there were now 38 children in the class which meant a lot of marking books and homework. She said if anyone wasn’t prepared to work she would send them down to First class or even Kindergarten. On the other hand, if they achieved exceptional results they could go up to the Primary School into Third class before the end of the year.
Step and Tear had had a lot of interrupted schooling so they were both terrified they would be sent to Kindergarten, even though their friend Sad was there. The teacher gave them exercise books and pencils and began the day with a handwriting lesson. They worked hard through Spelling, Reading and English Grammar before they were allowed out for Playtime. Before they could meet up with Sad they had to find their cake wrapped in greaseproof paper in their school bags and drink a small bottle of milk delivered to the classroom. Finally out in the playground they made a beeline for Sad.
“How was it?” asked Step.
“Teacher’s nice. She was very kind to me. The work was easy and I sat next to a boy called Brian who was friendly and loaned me his rubber.” Sad seemed happy with his morning.
“Our teacher was cross because the class is so big. She’s going to send us down if we can’t keep up and up to Primary if we are brilliant. I just want to stay where I am,” said Tear. “Imagine being sent to Third class with all the big kids.” Her eyes opened with horror. “It would be so scary.”
“I don’t think that will happen,” said Step. “She was giving us really hard work to see if we could go up a class. I couldn’t do some of it.”
Tear didn’t admit to it but she had been able to complete all the work quite easily. Maybe she should not try to get everything right in future.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. The children were not used to a bigger school and found many things confusing.
Sad’s class was outside doing Folk Dancing. He kept getting muddled up with his steps and the teacher told him he would have to have lunch with the girls. He wondered why that was a punishment.
Step and Tear’s teacher had to leave the room. She chose a big boy called Paul to watch the class. “Anyone who talks is to line up at my desk for the cane,” she said.
Step whispered to Tear, “That doesn’t seem fair,” as Paul yanked a girl from her seat for talking. The next moment Step was having a tug ‘o war with Paul as the bigger boy pulled him out of his seat as well.
“What is going on?” asked the teacher crossly. “Everyone sit down. I really don’t know how I am supposed to control so many children!”
Fortunately, no one had to get the cane.
Lunchtime arrived and Sad followed his teacher to the girls’ lunch area. All the girls in the Infants School sat on tiered seating while the boys were across the playground on another set of identical seats. Sad wasn’t sure what he had done wrong as the Folk Dancing had been very confusing, but he ate his lunch quietly while the girls chattered and laughed around him. He caught sight of Tear and shook his head at her questioning expression.
“I’ll tell you later,” he mouthed.
As he left the teacher crouched down to his level. “Next time you need to listen to instructions carefully or you will be in even more trouble.”
Sad decided he hated Folk Dancing and he wasn’t so sure about his teacher either.
In the afternoon there was an assembly. The school did not have a hall so they sat on the bitumen playground in their classes while the recorder group played the school song and the teachers each gave a short talk about what they expected from the children in the third and final term of the year. There were awards given to students from last term who excelled in their schoolwork and a story read by a boy in Sixth Class who told about how he spent his holidays. It sounded quite boring compared to the adventures of Step, Tear and Sad.
Finally it was 3.30 pm and the school bell rang joyously, or so it seemed to Sad, Step and Tear. It had been a stressful day for all of them and they each worried about what was to come. Sad worried about Folk Dancing, Step worried that he would be demoted to Kindergarten and Tear worried that she would be upgraded to Third class.
As soon as they entered the front door Nurse Smiley met them to escort them to Matron’s office. After they sat down Matron smiled at the three children and began to speak.
“I have news concerning Ruth which you may be interested in.”
The children sat up straight, holding their collective breath, waiting for Matron to continue.
“Ruth has been returned to the farm, but as you know, a solicitor, Mr Moody, has been investigating the legality of forcing Ruth to marry against her will at the age of 16. A judge has been consulted and ruled that Ruth should be removed from the Children of Moses Farm if she wishes, as long as she can be found suitable accommodation and work to earn money to support herself.”
Matron looked at the children with a warm smile. “I am pleased to tell you that she will be going to live with Aunt Ella. The old lady is getting on in years and was looking for a companion who would be able to help her with her daily routine. Ruth is exactly what she is looking for and I think Ruth feels the same way.”
Tear thought of her little bedroom at Aunt Ella’s which would now become Ruth’s. There would be no more overnight stays at the weekend. She hoped she would be able to walk down and visit sometimes. To make up for her selfish thoughts she burst out with, “How wonderful for Ruth and Aunt Ella. I hope it won’t be too difficult for her to get away from Moses.”
“I’ll let you know when she has arrived at Aunt Ella’s,” promised Matron.
The children were shooed away to go and do their homework. Step approached the room he shared with Tom feeling some trepidation. What sort of day did Tom have at his new school? Would he be sullen and resentful after fighting and clashing with his new schoolmates?
Tom had not yet arrived on the bus so Step took out his books and sat at the desk beside his bed. He groaned as he looked at his homework. The maths he could do fairly easily but the other exercise was to write a description of his room. He looked around him at the bare walls and wooden floor. The two beds had mismatching bedspreads. One was pale blue and the other was green. He wondered what to write so began cautiously.
I haven’t been in my room for very long because I was in another room with five boys but I did something wrong and got into trouble so now I am here.
He looked at what he had written and thought that the teacher would not be impressed. He crossed it out and started again.
There are two beds in my room. One belongs to Tom who is twelve. He goes to High School and isn’t home yet. The other one belongs to me. We each have a desk with a chair to sit on when we do our homework. When I sit at my desk I can see out the window. There is a tiny patch of blue which is the sea. Most of the view of the sea is blocked out by a huge gum tree.
Step chewed his pencil and wondered what else he could write. He looked up at the ceiling. Where the walls met the ceiling there was a fancy edge but he didn’t know what it was called. In the centre of the ceiling where the light hung down was a circular shape with patterns on it but he didn’t know what that was called either. Maybe Tom would know?
Tom entered the room with a smile on his face.
“How was your day, Midget?” This was Tom’s new nickname for Step.
“The teacher didn’t like having so many new children but otherwise it wasn’t too bad, I suppose.” Step appeared unenthusiastic. “How about you?’
“Pretty good. There was one time when a kid started having a go at me because I was from the Orphanage. I nearly punched his eyes out but then I thought, ‘What would Step do?’ I figured you would just tell him a story so I gave it to him. I said. ‘Yes, I’m an orphan because my house burnt down and my mother and father and little sister were frizzled up like bacon and I’m the only one left to tell the tale. I’ll bet you can’t do better than that.”
“What did the kid say?” asked Step.
“He didn’t know what to say. I’m not sure if he believed me but he just shrugged his shoulders and walked away.”
“Is it true?” Step said carefully.
“Mostly true. I was staying at my friend’s house for the night. The next morning two police officers came to the door, a man and a woman. They asked to see me alone so I knew something bad must have happened. They said my family wouldn’t have known what was happening as they were sleeping. Electrical fault or something. You see, my parents were only children and my grandparents were dead so I had no relatives. That’s how I ended up here.”
“Anyway, school was good. I’m going to try out for the cricket team and I didn’t lose my temper. I got put in a class with a lot of kids who are behind in their schoolwork and they muck up a bit but I just ignore them. I’ve made a friend whose mother died so I call him a half orphan.”
Step asked what the decorative features in the room were and Tom told him they were Cornices and a Ceiling Rose, so he continued with his description.
Where the wall meets the ceiling there is an elaborate cornice. It has a row of wavy lines at the bottom. Above that are squares that look like boxes with fancy tops. Then above that are more wavy lines.
Tom’s bed has a green bedspread and mine has a blue one. They don’t match.
Step was satisfied he had written enough and turned his attention to the arithmetic.
The weekend arrived and to Tear’s surprise she was still allowed to go to Aunt Ella’s cottage. Her Foster Parent after the orphanage fire had become very fond of her and invited her to come and stay whenever she wanted. Now that she wasn’t allowed to talk to Step and Sad she welcomed the chance to get away for a couple of days.
Not that it was very far away. Aunt Ella picked her up on Saturday morning and they walked the short distance to the cottage. Aunt Ella made a cup of tea and cut two large slices of cake before sitting down opposite Tear.
“Now tell me all the news. How is life at the new orphanage?”
It didn’t take long for Tear to tell Aunt Ella the story of Ruth hiding in the attic.
“And now I’m not allowed to speak to Step and Sad and even worse, Ruth will be forced to marry Esau.”
Aunt Ella mumbled a bit to herself and then smiled at Tear.
“You know, I think we can do something about this. There must be some government organisation that looks after the welfare of teenage girls. We can’t have parents and guardians forcing them into early marriages. How about we contact Mr Moody. He’s a solicitor. He should know about these things.”
Tear wanted Aunt Ella to ring straight away but she shook her head. “I only have his office number and he would be closed today because it’s Saturday. However, I will ring on Monday and see what can be done.”
Tear had to be content with that and tried to put her worries in the back of her mind.
Meanwhile Step had moved into a room with Tom. He was quite apprehensive as Tom was a very moody character who threw tantrums when things didn’t go his way. No-one had wanted to share a room with him. Also he was four years older than Step so might not be happy sharing with a “little kid”.
“What did you do to get put with me?” asked Tom. “I hear you are in some sort of trouble.”
Step decided if they were going to get along together he might as well tell him the whole story. At least it would give them something to talk about.
“So this Ruth girl has got to marry someone she doesn’t like when she’s 16? Gosh, that’s only five years older than I am. That would be awful. Can’t you sneak her out of the hospital before they come to take her home?”
“Even if we could get her out, where would she go? She couldn’t stay here and if she was homeless on the streets something terrible might happen to her.” Step sighed and shook his head.
“How about we sneak out of the orphanage, go to the hospital and visit Ruth. She might have some ideas about where she could hide,” Tom suggested.
Step looked at Tom with surprise. He hadn’t expected him to be so interested in Ruth. He thought maybe Tom was bored and wanted a bit of excitement.
It was the weekend but Step and Tom had not been selected by any Foster Parents. The orphanage was quiet on a drowsy Saturday afternoon with most of the children who weren’t with foster parents at a small picture theatre in the main street, watching “Around the World in 80 Days”. Nurse Smiley had gone with them as had Sad but Step was told to stay behind. Tom said he didn’t want to go as he felt sick. Matron was in her office and the boys were told to play quietly in the Games Room.
“We don’t know which hospital Ruth is in,” said Step. “How can we visit her?”
Tom dashed out of the room and came back carrying the telephone book which lived on the hall table next to the telephone. In the Yellow Pages he looked up Hospitals and put his finger on a list. “I think the nearest hospital would be Southland, but to make sure I could ring this number and ask if Ruth is there. What is her last name?”
“I…I…don’t know!” Step looked at Tom . “We never thought to ask her.”
“That’s all right. I’ll say I’m from the Jehovah’s Children Farm and am ringing to check how she is. I’ll say we don’t use surnames at the farm. If she’s not there it means we just have to try another hospital.”
Tom looked at Matron’s door. It was shut so he quietly picked up the phone and dialled the hospital’s number.
“Oh, hello,” Tom put on a deep, adult sounding voice. “I’m ringing from the Jehovah’s Children Farm and enquiring after Ruth, who is in your hospital with influenza……No, I don’t know her last name. We don’t use them at the Jehovah’s Children Farm…er, I’m ringing on behalf of Moses, who is our leader. Oh, is that so? Sorry to trouble you.
“No luck,” said Tom. “She’s not there. There’s a hospital called Cliffdale. That might be closer to here.” Tom indicated the map at the front of the Telephone Directory. “Here is Clifton Beach and here is Cliffdale. What do you think?”
Step just nodded. He was impressed with Tom’s knowledge and ability to handle himself on a phone.
Tom tried the Cliffdale Hospital number. It wasn’t long before he was smiling. He put down the phone and turned to Step.
“She’s there and visiting hours are from two o’clock until four. Now all we have to do is work out how to get there. Hmm, it’s only about five miles. Too far to walk and get there in visiting hours but maybe we could catch a bus. Get out your pocket money, Step.”
“Do you realise how much trouble I’ll be in if I get caught?” said Step. “And sure as night follows day I’ll get caught. So will you, Tom and we’ll both be in heaps of trouble.”
“I thought you said the most important thing was to stop Ruth being returned to the Jehovah’s Children Farm,” said Tom.
“I suppose so,” Step grudgingly replied. He really wanted to spend the afternoon doing a jigsaw puzzle and keeping a low profile. He couldn’t see the point in going to the hospital if they didn’t have a plan. Tom seemed sure that Ruth would know what to do if she had some help.
They sneaked out of the orphanage, keeping to the shadows around the building. After a quick dash to the shrubbery they arrived at the front gate and walked down the hill towards the bus stop. The first bus to arrive said Lake City above the windscreen so they asked the driver if it stopped at Cliffdale Hospital. It did, so they paid their money and settled into seats on the ocean side. They were both so entranced by the view that they were surprised when the bus driver stopped and called out, “You’re here.”
Jumping out they walked up a steep hill to a small hospital, more like a cottage than the large buildings they were used to. At reception they asked the nurse which room Ruth was in and she directed them down the corridor. They could see Ruth sitting in bed reading a magazine. She looked up at them in surprise.
“Oh my goodness, it’s Step! What a surprise! And you are?” She looked at Tom.
“This is my friend Tom,” said Step hurriedly. “It was his idea to come and see you and help you to escape. You are looking a lot better than the last time I saw you.”
“Oh yes, I am almost completely recovered. You got here just in time because Moses is coming to get me tomorrow and take me back to the farm.” Ruth bit her lip, “Thank you for trying to help me escape but where would I go? I can’t go to the orphanage and I have no money and nowhere to live. I appreciate you wanting to help me but I will have to go back with Moses. Maybe I can talk to him and he will see that making me marry Esau is a bad idea.”
Step was relieved because he had an image of Ruth hiding in a cave on the beach and dying from cold and starvation.
Tom looked disappointed. He hadn’t planned the next step so sat glumly in the visitor’s chair looking at the ocean.
“We’d better catch a bus back and try to sneak in without anyone seeing us,” Step said anxiously. He was keen to get back to the Games Room as soon as possible. “I’m pleased that you have recovered, Ruth and I hope you can talk some sense into Moses.”
Step and Tom said goodbye and returned to the Bus Stop. A bus travelling north arrived and they paid their money for Clifton Beach. It was only a matter of minutes and they were back at the front gates of the orphanage. They watched from behind some bushes as Matron walked around the gardens calling “Step….Tom”.
“Here we are,” called Step. “We were playing hidings in the garden.”
“I asked you to stay in the Games Room,” she said, but she didn’t appear to be cross and escorted them back inside. “The other children should be back from their outing soon but until then I’d like you to go to your room and do some quiet reading.”
Step couldn’t believe his good fortune. He hadn’t been caught and wasn’t in trouble. Well at least he wasn’t in more trouble than before. He was happy to lie on his bed with a book, especially as Tom hadn’t spoken a word and no longer appeared to be friendly.
“Thanks for trying,” Step said to Tom. Tom just rolled over on his bed with his back to Step. Obviously something was bugging him but Step decided it was wise to let sleeping dogs lie.
It was Sunday night before Tear was able to communicate her news. She passed a folded note to Step as she passed him on her way to dinner. He read it when he was sure no one was looking and was immensely cheered by what it said.
Aunt Ella ringing Mr Moody re Ruth. Says she’s sure he can help.
He caught Tear’s eye and she winked. He must get this message to Sad. Also would he tell Tom? Maybe that would cheer him up.
As they were leaving to go to bed later that night he passed the note to Sad, making sure he wasn’t being watched. He approached his room with trepidation. What sort of mood would Tom be in?
“I’ve got some news Tom. I think it’s good for Ruth.”
Tom turned to look at him, which at least was a start.
“Tear gave me a message. She says that Mr Moody, who is a solicitor, is going to look into Ruth’s case. She seemed very hopeful that maybe Ruth won’t have to marry Esau after all.”
“Who cares?” Tom cried. “I’m over this. It’s all boring. You’re just a scaredy cat and I hate having to share a room with you. I’m asking Nurse Smiley if you can be moved.”
With that he climbed into bed and covered his head with his blanket.
The next morning Step, Tear and Sad were called to Matron’s office.
“Sit down,” she said brusquely. “I’ve have reviewed your behaviour over the past few days and can only conclude that you did what you did out of consideration for Ruth and not because you are naughty children. As a result, you will now be allowed to talk to each other again which I’m sure will please you all.”
Matron looked at Step for a few moments. “Step, I have received a request from Tom that you be moved from his room. I had hoped that with your friendly nature he would enjoy your company but he is a difficult boy to please. I have decided to leave it up to you. If you want to return to the room you share with Sad and the others you may. However if you think it will help Tom to have your company it might be a good idea to stay a little longer. I’ll leave it up to you to decide.”
Step was deliriously happy when Matron said he could move back. However as she finished speaking he realised she was asking him to help Tom.
“Matron, could you give me a few days to make up my mind? I’ll see if I can get through to Tom. If not, then I will be happy to move back to my old bed.”
As they were leaving Sad gave Step a push. “Why don’t you move back straight away? It must be so boring stuck in a room with Tom No Friends.”
“I will gladly come back but I think Matron wants my help. Tom can be nice but for some reason he turns away from people and becomes bitter. Maybe something happened to him to make him like that.”
“That’s no excuse,” Sad said in a wobbly voice. “What happened to him couldn’t have been any worse than what happened to me but I’m a friendly guy, aren’t I?”
“That’s all the more reason to help Tom. Maybe he just needs some friends and he will get rid of that huge chip he has on his shoulder.”
With that the children reported to the Games Room because tomorrow they were all going to their new schools for the first time.
Sad was unsure what to do. Should he call for help from his friends or Nurse Smiley? Ruth quickly put her finger to her lips.
“Don’t tell anyone I’m here because Moses will come looking for me and if Matron or Nurse Smiley know where I am they will have to tell him.”
“But you can’t stay in here with the chooks,” said Sad. “For a start they won’t come in here and that will arouse suspicion. I will have to hide you somewhere else. And what about food? You can’t live on wheat!”
Ruth stared at Sad with a strange look. “I would rather starve to death than go back with Moses and marry Esau.”
Sad thought quickly. He and his friends had already explored the house and knew where the best hiding places were. At the back of the house was the servants’ staircase, used in the olden days when a wealthy family lived here. It was narrow and steep and led to a row of small rooms in the roof of the house where the servants used to sleep. No-one used it now as the cook and gardener lived in their own homes nearby. Sad decided that it was dark enough to risk moving Ruth to her new quarters without anyone seeing. The stairs were near the kitchen so he might even be able to take some food up for her after dinner.
He looked at Ruth. “How would Moses know you were here? He wouldn’t even know where this place is.”
“I overheard him talking to someone on the telephone. He was trying to find the address because he wanted to take some orphans for the weekend in the hope of persuading them to stay. Our numbers are dropping as some people have been leaving. It is very hard to get away if you are older because you have donated all your worldly goods to the organisation and so you have nothing when you leave. Some people are still so unhappy they leave anyway but then they have to beg on the street to live. Anyway I saw the address written on his notepad and decided to come here and hide until they get sick of looking.”
“How did you get here?” asked Sad.
“Jehovah’s Children Farm is a few miles from the Picton railway station. I left in the middle of the night and walked to the station. I had been saving money wherever I could find it and dear Isaiah helped me. It is amazing how much money we found in the discarded furniture. Anyway I caught a train to Central and then another one to Cliffside Beach. It is a long walk down the hill from the station but I was so excited to be here. Then I saw people in the garden so I hid in the hen house.”
“Well, let’s get you out of here and upstairs without anyone seeing. I mustn’t forget to lock up the chooks either.” Sad looked around in all directions, thankful it was almost dark and then quickly scurried to the back door. Peering inside he could see no-one, so waved to Ruth to follow him. Together they crept up the steep stairs, their shoes in their hands, until they came to a narrow corridor. Sad looked into each room until he saw one with some sparse furniture.
“Here, this will do. It has a bed with a mattress. You can put your blanket over it as it is awfully dusty. I’ll get you some more blankets as well as some food and water.”
With that Sad rushed off to lock up the chooks and report for dinner. It was difficult to act normally in front of Step and Tear when he had such an enormous secret. He had to get them alone before he could say anything as he didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing. It would be useful if they could save some food for Ruth as well but tonight she was going to have to rely on what he could forage alone. He slipped a bread roll and an apple into his pockets and then remembered his drink bottle in his room. As soon as the meal was over he rushed upstairs, filled his drink bottle with water and set off for the back stairs. To get there he had to walk through the kitchen which was difficult as Cook and the rostered orphan, Peter, were washing the big pots and pans.
The only thing to do was switch off the lights and hope he could slip through unnoticed.
Cook remarked, “There’s a blackout!”
”Can’t be,” Peter said. “ The lights are on in the rest of the house.”
By this time Sad was off and up the back stairs. He opened the third door and presented his gifts to Ruth. He had forgotten to get blankets. Ruth didn’t mind. She drank the drink bottle dry and ate her bread roll in seconds. As she munched on the apple Sad told he he’d better get back as there might be a search for the person who switched off the lights in the kitchen.
Getting back was easier as Cook was out in the hallway talking to Nurse Smiley about the lights going off and Peter had left to go back to the others. Sad checked no-one was watching and fled to his room where he found Step reading a book. The other two boys were obviously somewhere else so when Sad got his breath back he told Step the whole story.
“Wow!” exclaimed Step. “How are we going to keep her there without anybody finding out?”
“It will only be until Moses has been and gone and then maybe Ruth can be given a place at the orphanage,” whispered Sad. “We have to find Tear and tell her what is happening.”
“What about washing and er… you know.” Step muttered.
“She can go down the stairs and out into the yard in the middle of the night. No-one will see her. There’s an outdoor dunny in the back garden.”
Sad and Step were unable to get Tear alone until the next morning. Sad asked if she would help him in the chook yard so she and Step went out before breakfast to let the hens out of their house.
“Tear, Ruth is here hiding in one of the attic rooms and we have to keep her out of sight until Moses comes to check if she is here.” Step didn’t waste any words as time was short. “Make sure you keep some food from breakfast for her and fill up your drink bottle with water. We’ll meet here after breakfast. Not a word, understand?”
Tear nodded and returned to the house. Half an hour later they met again at the chook yard. Sad was carrying a blanket off his bed as well as a bag of food.
“I don’t know if we should all go up together. Maybe if Sad goes first we can follow at a safe distance,” said Step.
The two orphans waited until Sad was out of sight. Step crossed to the back door next and after a few more minutes Tear followed.
They found Ruth in a very miserable state. She was hungry, thirsty and cold and snuggled up to Sad’s blanket with relief. The children spoke quietly and then left one at a time.
Until the new school term started the children were given a roster of activities to keep them busy. It consisted mainly of work in the garden or the house. That day Tear was supposed to hang the washing on the clothesline. Sad was assigned to weeding the garden and Step had to vacuum the carpets.
They all looked out for the Land Rover and sure enough it arrived at precisely midday. Sad saw the car pull up and watched Moses striding to the front door. Step paused in his vacuuming while Moses went into Matron’s study and Tear watched from the clothesline as he and Matron searched the back garden.
After a long time he was back in his Land Rover, satisfied Ruth was not there. That is what they all hoped, anyway.
They all wore jackets with big pockets to lunch so they could stow as much food as possible without arousing suspicion.
However, Rose had noticed something because she approached Tear as she was leaving the Dining Room.
“What are you doing with all that food in your pockets? I saw you sneaking it away. I saw the others too. Tell me now or I will inform Nurse Smiley.”
“Er…um. A midnight feast! Step and Sad and I were going to have a midnight feast,” Tear said quickly. “You mustn’t tell. Please!”
“I won’t tell if I can come too. It sounds like fun,” replied Rose. “Where are you meeting?”
“At the top of the back staircase, in one of the attic rooms,” replied Tear. She realised she had given away Ruth’s secret but didn’t know what else to say.
“Great! Make sure you wake me if I am asleep. Otherwise…” She raised her eyebrows dramatically.
Tear broke the news to Step and Sad. Sad was angry and kicked the wall so hard he hurt his foot and hopped around groaning for several minutes. When he recovered, he gasped, “Why did you tell her where Ruth was hiding? You didn’t have to do that!”
“Calm down,” said Step. “I have an idea. We can still have the midnight feast, only not in Ruth’s room. We can warn her to be quiet and have it in the room next door. We just need to get lots of food so we have enough for both purposes.”
“I don’t want to get up at midnight and have a feast,” said Sad. “What a stupid idea, Tear.”
Tear looked like she was about to cry but Step hurriedly stepped in. “It was quick thinking in a difficult situation. What would you have said instead, Sad? Would you have organised a midnight feast in the chook pen?”
That made Sad laugh and the awkward moment was past.
When Step took the scavenged food to Ruth that night she was lying on the bed with her hands clasped to her temples.
“What’s wrong?” asked Step.
“I have the most awful headache,” she said. “I just want to sleep and hope it will be gone in the morning.”
Step quickly told her about the feast scheduled for midnight in a nearby room.
“Well, I won’t be coming to your party,” she said. “Rather you than me.”
Step left the food and water although Ruth didn’t seem very interested. He ran downstairs thinking he just wanted this night to be over.
Tear rather hoped that Rose would sleep through the night, but she was out of her bed and tugging at Tear’s sleeve as the church bell chimed twelve times.
Wearily Tear grabbed her dressing gown. Two more shapes appeared. It seems Rose had told Wattle and Cherry so they were preparing to join the feast.
“I hope there’s enough food,” muttered Tear. “We weren’t expecting so many people.”
Silently they crept downstairs, through the dark kitchen and up the narrow staircase to the attic. Step and Sad were already in the first room, candles alight and the food spread over one of the blankets from Step’s bed.
“This is so exciting!” Cherry said, her hands fluttering towards the food. “Thank you for inviting us.”
The children ate quietly, munching on biscuits and cakes and washing them down with tooth tumblers of water. Tear began to breath more easily as she thought they might have kept their secret for one more day.
All of a sudden a loud voice could be heard nearby.
“Let me go! I’m not coming back! I don’t want to marry Esau! I’d rather die!”
They all looked up and Rose, Cherry and Wattle appeared genuinely scared.
“Do you think it’s a ghost?” asked Rose.
Surprisingly it was Wattle who dashed out the door to Ruth’s room and opened the door.
“As I thought,” said Wattle. “Someone is hiding up here. Calm down Rose, it’s not a ghost.”
Cherry held up the candle to see who was in the room. On the bed Ruth tossed and turned. Her face was red and she moaned continuously.
“I think she is very sick,” said Step. “Let’s go and get Nurse Smiley. Tear and Sad, you two stay with her and give her some water.”
The children rushed down the narrow stairs and up the broad ones to Nurse Smiley’s room. After Step’s brief outline of the situation she donned her dressing gown and grabbed a large torch and her medical bag. On the way she knocked on Matron’s door and let her know of the situation.
Within minutes she was taking Ruth’s temperature and placing a cool cloth on her forehead. She looked at the children gathered around.
“I don’t know what you were doing up here but I want you all in bed NOW. Understand? I will see you tomorrow in my office at 7 o’clock. Now scoot!”
The children did as they were told but found it hard to sleep, wondering what was going on. They heard the wail of an ambulance siren, the crunching of gravel on the driveway and muffled voices but what had happened to Ruth they could only guess.
The six children waited outside Nurse Smiley’s office at 7 o’clock.
“I will see Rose, Cherry and Wattle first,” she said. In a few minutes they reappeared. Rose looked at Step, Tear and Sad.
“You three are in soooo much trouble,” she said, swinging her plaits around her head.
The three orphans looked at each other.
“The most important thing,” Step said, “is that Ruth recovers from her sickness and does not have to go back to the farm. Keep that in mind.”
“Sit down please,” Nurse Smiley looked very serious. “The girl from the attic is in hospital with influenza. She is in a bad way but the doctors hope that with an antibiotic drip she will recover. I have been told by the girls about the midnight feast. Now I want the whole truth from you three as I get the feeling you know a lot more about this than Rose, Cherry and Wattle do.”
Sad spoke first. “I am the one who found the girl in the hen house. She wanted to stay at the orphanage so I hid her in the attic. It is all my fault.”
Step spoke next. “I am the oldest but I decided to help Sad because I felt sorry for the girl. It is my fault that Tear is involved because we should have kept it to ourselves.”
“Before you go on any further,” Nurse Smiley interrupted. “I know the girl is Ruth from the Jehovah’s Children Farm and that Moses has been looking for her. As soon as she is better she will be going back to the farm.”
“But Nurse Smiley, she is going to have to marry Esau when she turns 16 and she doesn’t want to. She is still only young and should not be forced into marriage. She doesn’t even like Esau.” Sad was in tears, he was so upset.
“I was not aware of that,” said Nurse Smiley thoughtfully. “However, as Moses is her guardian we have no control over what he decides to do. Now as for the three of you I will have to talk to Matron about your punishment. For the moment you are not to speak to each other and Step and Sad will sleep in different rooms. Step, you can move in with Tom so go and get your things now.”
The three orphans left Nurse Smiley’s office stunned and heartbroken. The future looked very bleak indeed.
The horizon was streaked with pink and gold although the sun had not yet appeared when Sad and Step dumped their backpacks in the Land Rover. They had the same driver as before because he knew where the Scout Hall was. Matron had asked that all orphans be returned there and not to the new house. She very wisely decided to keep its whereabouts a secret.
The driver was alone and not at all chatty, so the two boys sat in the back seat quietly brimming with excitement. Every now and again they looked at each other and a big grin would spread across one of their faces. Then the other would burst into silent laughter and they would both shake with shared joy.
It took two hours to reach the Scout Hall. They could see other cars pulling in and driving out. Foster parents and orphans were carrying bags into the hall and Nurse Smiley stood at the door greeting each group.
Step looked around for Tear. He was worried that she might not come back, that some Foster Parent would take a liking to her and keep her. He couldn’t see her anywhere and began to shiver with the thought that she might be gone forever.
He eventually plucked up enough courage to ask the dreaded question.
“Excuse me Nurse Smiley, but do you know if Tear is coming back?”
Nurse Smiley turned to Step and answered “Tear will be meeting us at the new house as her Foster Parent lives nearby. It was because of Tear that we were left this beautiful mansion. She made friends with the old lady who owned it and told her all about our dilemma. The old woman made us the sole beneficiaries of her estate. She was very, very old, over 100, and one morning, sitting in the sunshine, after drinking a cup of tea, she fell asleep and didn’t wake up. She had no other relatives and her last days had been brightened up by Tear’s company. I’m sure she imagined how excited the orphans would be to live in her huge house.”
Step thanked Nurse Smiley and rushed to tell Sad the news. Everyone was given a brown paper bag with sandwiches and an apple. There was also a colourful drink bottle of water with each bag. They were told to keep the bottles so they could refill them when needed.
A small bus pulled into the driveway. The orphans climbed on board, eager to see their new accommodation. They travelled along a busy road, turning eventually into a narrower, quieter road where they caught glimpses of a shimmering blue sea between the trees. Halfway down a steep hill they turned right up a winding driveway. Everyone gasped at what they saw. Even Nurse Smiley, who had been there before, stared in renewed wonder.
Before them they could see a mixture of chimneys, arched bow windows, carvings, striped bull nosed verandahs, intricate lace balcony railings, rusty iron roofs and tiled terraces. The overall effect was one of crumbling grandeur. The children eagerly entered the large front door and looked with curiosity at the broad staircase leading to the rooms where they possibly would sleep. Nurse Smiley ushered them into a large room at the front of the house where sun streamed in through numerous arched windows. There were no chairs so the children sat on the floor, faces turned to Nurse Smiley in anticipation.
“First of all I would like to welcome all sixteen orphans to our new home. It is to be named after the kind woman who left it to us, the Zipporah Magillacuddy Childrens’ Home. Our first job is to work out where everyone is going to sleep. We won’t be having dormitories any more so there will be four children to a room. Some of the older children will share with one other and some can even have a room to themselves. I will read out the groups and you can wait with your roommates to be shown your room. First girls’ room will be Tear, Cherry, Rose and Wattle, first boys’ room will be Step, Biff, Mark and Sad. The older children can discuss with me if they want to share a room or be by themselves.”
The orphans were astonished at their new-found freedom and looked at each other in amazement.
“I just want to let you know that we are following the wishes of Miss Zipporah Magillacuddy. She wanted this house to feel like a home, not an orphanage, so she has decreed that certain instructions must be followed. For example, you will all go to the local schools, primary and high school, and if anyone wishes to continue with their education past the age of 15, they may stay here until they have their Leaving Certificate. We will no longer have the Saturday Inspection Day but we will still encourage members of the community to take children out for the weekend and in school holidays. There will be jobs for you all to do but we will have a proper Cook who will take care of all the food preparation. We will need all of you to help with the garden and some of the easier house renovation but there won’t be anything that is too difficult for you. I think you all want to do your best to make this house a home. Is that correct?”
The children all answered with a fervent yes and stood up, eager to find their rooms. Nurse Smiley led them up the staircase and stopped at the first door to the left of the landing. Inside was a large room with four beds. French windows opened onto a wide balcony and through the glass could be seen glimpses of shining sea.
“Tear, Cherry, Rose and Wattle, here are your sheets and blankets. You can make up your beds now.”
The group continued to the end of a long corridor where Nurse Smiley opened the door into another large room. It also had a door leading onto a balcony but this one was at the front of the house.
“Step, Biff, Mark and Sad. Please make up your beds and I will return in ten minutes to check.” Nurse Smiley moved off with the older children who were already choosing friends with whom to share their rooms.
Nurse Smiley poked her head in each room. “I want to see all of you downstairs in fifteen minutes, at exactly 3 o’clock.” With that she turned on her heel and scurried downstairs.
Tear put her backpack on one of the beds and thought about her roommates. Cherry was a friendly girl most of the time although she could be influenced by the others and say nasty things. Rose was very self-centred and seemed not to care about other people or their feelings. Wattle was very quiet and she didn’t feel she knew much about her at all.
“Well, we’d better get these beds made,” said Cherry. “I don’t know about you, but I think we are going to love living here.”
“As long as I get the bed near the window,” said Rose quickly. “I want to see the sea when I wake up.”
Wattle said nothing so Tear chose the bed furthest away from Rose. The less she had to do with her the better. Beside each bed was a small wardrobe where they could store their clothes. On the other side of the bed was a bedside table, complete with a reading lamp and a small vase of yellow daisies. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make them feel welcome. Tear wondered if Aunt Ella had anything to do with it. She was going to miss Aunt Ella and was looking forward to visiting her sometimes on weekends and holidays.
Meanwhile Sad and Step chose beds side by side. Biff and Mark claimed the other side of the room. After they made their beds Nurse Smiley checked on them, making clucking sounds as she straightened blankets and pillows. “Now off you go downstairs. The others are already there.”
Peter was the oldest orphan. At fourteen and ten months he had expected to be leaving the orphanage soon but as he was quite good at his lessons, he had been told he could go to the High School and get his Leaving Certificate. Who knows, he might get a scholarship to Teachers College or University! He was excitedly telling the other orphans about his own room up in the top of the house. It was circular, with windows all around and a vaulted ceiling. Here he could study away from the noise of the younger children. The other children had found rooms for two and happily shared with friends. Only one person was not happy. Tom was not popular as he had a habit of throwing angry tantrums when he didn’t get his way. None of the older children had wanted to share with him so he was by himself. Peter told him how lucky he was to have his own room but Tom just felt more alone and isolated. Step watched him shouting and crying but felt he couldn’t help. Eleven year old Tom would not want the friendship of a seven year old boy.
Nurse Smiley and Matron stood at one end of the room and raised their hands for quiet.
Matron spoke first. “Welcome everyone to the Zipporah Magillacuddy Childrens’ Home. We hope you will be very happy here as you will find it very different to the last place you lived. One major change will be school. Mr Scott has retired and is having a well-earned rest living with his sister down the coast. All the children up to 6th class will go to the local public school, Cliffside Beach and the three children of High School age will catch a bus to Middlemount High School. You will all need uniforms so we have some mothers here from the school to measure you up so that on your first day you will blend in seamlessly with the other students.”
Nurse Smiley continued. “When you have been measured would you please go through this door to our dining room. You can wait in the lounge chairs around the room until it is time for dinner.”
Step, Tear and Sad were interested to see the uniforms. The boys would be wearing grey shorts and a green shirt with a green and white striped tie. Tear would be wearing a grey box pleated tunic over a green shirt, with the same tie as the boys. They would be wearing grey socks and black shoes. For sports days the boys had green shorts and yellow T-shirts while Tear had a green wrap-around skirt with yellow edging.
There was a lot to talk about as they sat in the comfy armchairs of the dining room. Step wondered how big the school was. If it was a small school, having another thirteen students would make a big difference. He hoped they would be accepted by the other school children.
Nurse Smiley reappeared. “Dinner time!” she called out cheerfully. “Please take a tray over to the window at the end of the room and you will be given your meal.”
Step, Tear and Sad sat together. They were so excited they couldn’t stop talking. Rose walked past them with her tray. “Sitting with the boys, are we Tear? Girls not good enough for you?”
“You’re welcome to join us,” said Tear, but Rose walked off with Cherry, Wattle following indecisively a few steps behind.
“Hey Wattle, come and join us,” Tear called out.
Wattle looked perplexed. She looked at Tear and then at Rose. Rose looked back. “You’re with us,” she hissed, and Wattle scurried to join her.
After dinner the children walked in single file, carrying their plates. There were four bowls of hot, soapy water in the kitchen so it wasn’t long before they had all washed and dried their dishes. They returned to the lounge chairs and listened attentively to Nurse Smiley.
“Before you all go to your rooms tonight, I want to tell you one more of Miss Magillacuddy’s wishes which we intend to carry out as soon as possible. She wanted the children here to have experience with animals so in time we will obtain some chickens, some ducks, dogs, cats and even goldfish. You will be responsible for looking after them so I would like you to write down what sort of animal you would like for a pet and we will see what we can do. You may have to share some animals because we wouldn’t want sixteen cats if you all asked for one, whereas we could have sixteen chickens.”
There was excited buzzing of voices as slips of paper and pencils were passed around. Step wrote down “dog” on his paper, Tear wrote “cat” and Sad put “chickens”. Sad thought no-one else would put chickens and he liked the idea of feeding them night and morning and collecting the eggs each day.
Sad’s wish was the first to come true as there was already a chicken pen in the garden. It was empty but the next day he was asked to supervise the arrival of the new inhabitants. They were to live in a large rectangular yard fenced with high chicken wire. Inside, at one end, was a hen house where they were to sleep at night on perches. Sad had to lock the door each night so the chickens would be safe from foxes and other predators. He also had to unlock the door in the morning, collect the eggs and feed pollard mixed with water to the chickens. As well he had to clean the water dish and refill it with fresh water. It seemed a lot of work for one person and as no one else had asked for chickens he could choose a friend to go with him each time.
There were six very annoyed hens delivered in flour bags with their legs tied together. Sad, Tear and Step were wary of the noisy birds, but Fred the gardener swiftly cut the ties on their legs and let them run around.
“Just leave them to settle down and then tonight we’ll see if they go into their house so we can lock them in,” said Fred. “Meet me here at six o’clock.”
As if by magic the chickens scuttled up a ramp and into their new home. Fred had already fed them wheat so Sad was relieved the chickens were not his responsibility alone.
It was a few days later when Fred met Sad in the morning as he was looking for eggs.
“They probably won’t start laying for a while. They had a big fright moving here. Listen, Sad, I have to go away today but will be back tomorrow. Would you make sure the chickens are fed and locked up tonight.”
Sad nodded his head enthusiastically. He liked being put in charge of the chickens without any adults around. He decided he wouldn’t even ask Step or Tear to help.
At five o’clock he fed the chickens and at six o’clock he came back to lock them up. They seemed upset and wouldn’t go into their house. He poked his head inside to see what the problem was. Surely there wasn’t a fox in the hen house! On the floor he could see a mound covered with a tartan blanket. Funny, that shouldn’t be there. He was a little bit scared but decided that it couldn’t be an animal. He grabbed the blanket, pulled it away swiftly and gasped in astonishment.
Curled up on the floor was a girl. Sad was sure he had seen her before. Suddenly he knew who it was. It was Ruth, their friend from Jehovah’s Children.
Step and Sad had still not reached the end of their long day but watching Ruth spinning had been informative and interesting, not so much for what she did but what she said. The hour of prayer and contemplation was coming up and Sad hoped it would be a good opportunity for a sleep. Everyone was gathering in a sunny area at the front of the house, sitting cross-legged on the grass with eyes closed. For a whole hour Step and Sad had time to think about their situation. Step considered the possibility of staying with Jehovah’s Children. So far it seemed a pleasant lifestyle and all the grown-ups were friendly and smiled a lot. Ruth showed another side of the community, where people were made to do things against their will. He would reserve judgment until he was here for a few more days.
Sad was too tired to think for long. The combination of late afternoon spring sunshine and the effort of turning cream into butter had made him very sleepy so he slowly drooped forward until his forehead touched the ground. He dreamed he was in a large house with all the other orphans. Looking out the window he could see the waves crashing onto the rocks below. In his dream he was happy and excited. Step woke him up to tell him they were going to dinner.
“What do you think about staying here?” asked Step.
Sad’s head was still filled with his wonderful dream. “I’m sure we will get another place to live. I want to go back to the other orphans and Nurse Smiley and Mr Scott our teacher. I want to go to school and know what’s going on in the world. Most of all I don’t want to be forced to get married to some girl. Ugh!”
The dining room was like a cafeteria, with trays, plates and cutlery at one end and food in metal trays for them to choose from. One boy exclaimed, “Gluten steak tonight!”
Step looked in surprise when he heard the word “steak”. Maybe they ate some meat here after all. He speared a piece onto his plate along with some mashed potato, cabbage and pumpkin.
Moses began his pre-dinner prayer. “We thank you Lord for this food you have provided for us. For our gluten steaks, made in our own kitchen from wheat grown in our own paddocks, potatoes and pumpkins grown in our own vegetable garden and cabbage from last summer which we have bottled and preserved to keep us from scurvy in the long winter.”
Although it was chewy, Sad found the gluten steak was a change from bread and cheese. He hoped there would be dessert and there was. Apple crumble with apples from the orchard and crumble from the ground wheat with a dollop of cream from the dairy.
Bible study was interesting as they were given readers roughly suitable for their age group. For Step it was easy although Sad struggled a bit with some of the words. To Sad’s delight the story they were studying that evening was about Noah and the Flood. However, when he reached a part that said the dinosaurs were too slow to get on the boat and that is why they died out, he put up his hand. “Excuse me, that is wrong. The dinosaurs lived a long time before there were any people on the earth. It is thought that a meteor hitting the earth caused the destruction of the dinosaurs.”
The teacher at the front of the room smiled although it was through gritted teeth.
“Sad, we believe that God created all the animals and man in six days, so they were all on this earth together until the Great Flood. It tells us that in the Bible, which is the Word of God. It is not our place to dispute the Blessed Word of God.”
“But…. Ow!” Sad was suddenly silent when Step kicked him under the table. Maybe he had better be quiet.
He couldn’t help himself, however.
“Excuse me, Brother Jacob (that was the teacher’s name), exactly how many animals were on the ark? It couldn’t have been every animal in the world, could it? What about Polar Bears? They only live in the ice and snow. Were they on the Ark?”
Brother Jacob just nodded his head. “The Bible says it was every animal of God’s Creation.”
“Except the dinosaurs,” replied Sad.
“Except the dinosaurs,” repeated Brother Jacob. His smile was looking very forced.
Next day after morning prayers and breakfast the boys reported to Moses. Instead of giving them a sheet of instructions he called someone into his office. It was Ruth, smiling broadly.
“I have asked Ruth to show you around all the work activities today so we can decide more quickly what you are suited to. We might as well get you working as soon as possible.”
Ruth took them to the hen house where children were collecting the eggs. She also pointed out other children who were collecting loose feathers to be used in pillows and cushions. The bee hives were well away from the house and they were told that not only honey came from the bees but also the wax which could be used for candles. There was a mill where the wheat was crushed to be made into flour and vegetable gardens where people young and not so young were digging, weeding and planting. In some paddocks there were sheep, and others showed signs of being recently ploughed, waiting for crops of wheat, oats and barley to be planted. Everyone they saw smiled merrily at them so that Step finally asked Ruth why everyone was so happy.
“They are not really happy,” said Ruth bitterly. “They have been instructed to show they always have the Joy of the Lord in them. If you stop smiling you get sent to a Pastor who punishes you until you start smiling again.”
“What sort of punishment do people get and have you ever been punished?” Sad asked fearfully.
“Oh, I’ve been punished lots of times. Now I just go along with what they want, meanwhile making my own plans for escape.”
“But what do they do to you?” insisted Sad.
“They lock you up in a small, dark room with no bed and no blankets. They only give you one glass of water a day and no food. You get so bored you beg to be let out. Meanwhile you must promise not to tell anyone where you have been, or why.”
The second last place they visited was the vast kitchen where they admired rows of jars with gold-coloured lids. “This is where all our summer fruit and vegetables are preserved. That keeps us going throughout the winter. We cut up the produce, put it in a jar, put the lid on and then boil it in a large pot filled with water for hours. That kills all the germs and the food keeps throughout the winter. It gets very hot here in the summer with the stove alight all the time so we try to do as much as we can outside in the shade.”
Ruth looked at the boys. ”I have to make a recommendation for your chosen labour but I have one more place to show you. I think you will find it interesting.”
They walked over to a large wooden shed. Ruth knocked three times on the door and waited while a voice called out, “All right, I’m coming, I’m coming.”
The old man who opened the door wasn’t smiling. He didn’t even pretend to be happy, but he ushered the children and Ruth into the shed and then went back to what he was doing. He was working on some shoes, fixing the soles which had large holes in them.
Step looked around the shed. It was full of every imaginable kind of junk. Maybe some of it wasn’t junk but you couldn’t tell because there was so much of it.
Ruth waved her hand around the shed. “This is all the worldly goods donated by people who have joined “Jehovah’s Children”. Isaiah here has a huge job trying to sort through it all. For example, look at all the shoes! He goes through them all and fixes anything that needs mending. Once things are in good working order they go to the Sunday Thanks Giving where people who have worked well during the week are given rewards. Of course, we don’t give out a wireless set because we don’t have any electricity and we are forbidden to find out about the world outside.”
“So, there could be a War,” exclaimed Sad, “and you wouldn’t know about it!”
“Moses would know,” said Ruth. “He has a wireless in his room which runs on batteries so he would know if another country invaded Australia.”
“Would you like to help Isaiah?” said Ruth. “He needs help sorting out all the donations and no one else wants to do it.”
“Does Isaiah want us to help him?” asked Step, wondering if the cranky old man needed two small children around him.
“I reckon you’re from outside, so you might be more use than the dingbats who live in this nut house,” replied Isaiah. “Crazy, the lot of them. It’s all smiley, smiley and daggers behind your back. I’m having none of them.”
Sad wondered why Isaiah didn’t get put into solitary confinement but decided now was not the time to ask. He looked at Step, who nodded. This was as good a place as any to work and it might be fun. Who knows what they would find!
From then on life began to take on a familiar routine. The boys found Isaiah was not as unpleasant as they first thought. They had long discussions about various items found on the shelves of the shed, what could be useful and what was just rubbish.
“I need to get rid of all the junk,” said Isaiah. “What I need is a big hole in the ground to put it all in so I could have some room in me shed.”
The days flew by until it was Sunday. Step and Sad were not looking forward to a day of fasting but Ruth told them to keep some bread and cheese from their meals to nibble on that day. “Everybody does it,” she said.
Step was looking forward to the Thanks Giving Service. This was to be held after Church in the little chapel beside the farmhouse. At one end of the chapel was a stage and on the stage were all sorts of interesting items which Step and Sad had helped Isaiah choose the week before.
The most useful things were chairs and tables, beds, mattresses, sheets and pillows. There were lots of kitchen items but of course they didn’t include anything that ran on electricity so the shed was still full of toasters, electric jugs, heaters, hairdryers, refrigerators and washing machines.
At the end of a boring church service Moses walked to the front with a list of names. He smiled and announced that there were ten hard workers who would be given their choice of item from the stage. The first person named was Saul, who had prepared all the paddocks for planting with the help of a plough and their one draft horse. He and his wife Mary walked to the front and chose a large wooden double bed complete with mattress. It would have to stay there until tomorrow as no work was allowed until the Sabbath was over.
The next person named was Sarah, who had milked the cows every morning and made 50 pats of butter. She chose a table with four matching chairs and looked very pleased with herself.
Moses looked up with a beaming smile and said, “I am pleased to announce that our next recipient is soon to be married. Esau, you have chopped down 20 trees in the last week and cut them all up into firewood ready for next winter. Would you like to bring your future wife, Ruth to the front and choose your gift from God.”
Step and Tear looked with interest at Esau, Ruth’s future husband. He appeared much older than her but he didn’t look particularly evil. As the couple walked to the front Esau took Ruth’s hand but she withdrew it sharply. It was obvious to all that she didn’t like Esau one little bit. He looked at her and asked what she would like. She shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes.
Moses spoke quickly to recover the situation. “Let us all show our joy in the future union of our two Children of Jehovah. God has chosen these two to be together and I know that once they are married, they will grow to love each other.”
Esau chose an axe and a saw while Ruth stared grimly out of the window. He didn’t look at his future wife and seemed embarrassed by the whole situation, as well he might.
It was two weeks later, while Step and Sad were working in the shed, that Ruth came to the door to tell them Moses wanted to see them. Sad had been keeping his head down and his mouth shut so he wondered if he was in trouble. Step was also thinking back over the last week to see if he had broken any of the rules.
Moses was looking very serious and for once was not smiling.
“I have some news from your Matron, who telephoned me this morning.”
Moses has a telephone? I wonder how that works way out here? thought Step.
“Apparently there is a new home for the orphanage. It is a big, old house near the sea which has been bequeathed to the orphans by an elderly lady who only recently went to live with the Heavenly Father.”
Sad looked up in astonishment. It seems as if his dream from two weeks ago was actually coming true.
“Although much work has to be done to it, Matron wants all the orphans to return so they can help with the repairs and renovations. It looks as though you will be leaving in the Land Rover tomorrow, unless you want to stay?”
Step looked Moses in the eye. “Sir, I feel it is our duty to report to the new orphanage and help where we can, despite the wonderful time we have had with Jehovah’s Children. I would like you to accept our sincere appreciation of all you have done for us.”
“Well, that’s that,” Moses sighed. “You’ll be off at dawn tomorrow.”
You may be wondering what Step and Sad were doing while Tear was staying by the seaside.
After Tear was taken away, the two boys waited for their Foster Parents. One by one the other children disappeared until they were the only two left. It was five o’clock in the afternoon and Matron and Nurse Smiley were getting worried because they had to lock the Scout Hall and go to the Nurses’ Home once all the orphans had gone.
Of course, Step and Sad were worried too. They both jumped up with relief when they saw a car pull up in front of the Scout Hall. Two men dressed in black walked up the driveway. They both bowed to Matron and then turned to the boys.
“We had planned on taking one boy but seeing you have two we will take them both,” said the taller of the two men. He had long black hair and an even longer black beard streaked with grey.
“We are members of ‘Jehovah’s Children’ who live on a farm in a peaceful community where we work side by side in order to create a ‘Heaven on Earth’, continued the older man. “It is our duty to be ‘Fishers of Men’ and so we welcome these two boys to our community.”
“It will only be for a month,” interrupted Matron sharply. “Just until we find new premises.”
“So be it,” said the younger man. “Praise the Lord that we are able to help in our small way, when fire and brimstone hath destroyed the home of these poor little children.”
The boys followed the two men to a Land Rover which smelt of sheep, hay and petrol. Sitting in the back seat they watched the countryside flash past as they travelled out along the highway. The two men sang “Praise the Lord” and “Let the people rejoice” in loud, deep voices until the boys fell asleep.
Late that night they pulled up outside a farmhouse. They could smell something good from the kitchen but were taken straight to a room with two beds. The older man stood at the doorway and spoke in a calm, measured voice.
“Sleep now for tomorrow we have an early start. There will be prayers at 5 o’clock. You will hear a gong at a quarter to 5 and must get up, make your bed and get dressed. Breakfast will be at 6 o’clock. At 7 o’clock we will all go to work on the farm. We stop for prayers and a drink of water at 11 o’clock and then work until 2 o’clock when we have Songs of Praise and lunch. Then it will be work in the fields until 5 o’clock when we have an hour of Prayer and Contemplation. Dinner is at 6 after which you will wash and report for Bible Study. Then at 8 o’clock you will say your prayers and go to bed. Here is a glass of water each. We always fast on Sunday so there will be no food for you today. Don’t forget to say your prayers.” With that he turned on his heel and disappeared, along with a candle that was their only light.
“I’ll bet he’s getting something to eat,” groaned Sad. “There was something cooking in that kitchen and it smelt delicious.”
“At least we had lunch at the Scout Hall so I suppose we will survive. It sounds like a busy day tomorrow. I wonder what sort of work we will have to do on the farm?” replied Step.
“What about school? Looks like the only bookwork will be Bible Study which might be useful because I don’t know much about the Bible.” Sad frowned, trying to remember. “I think someone told me a story about a big flood where a man built a boat and put lots of animals in it so they wouldn’t drown.”
“That was Noah,” said Step. “He built an Ark and put two of every animal in it. I’ll bet it was noisy.”
“And smelly,” laughed Sad. “Step, I am so glad you are with me. I feel I can put up with anything, even lots of prayers, as long as you are here too. It makes such a difference to have a friend.”
The two boys fell asleep despite the lack of sheets on their bed. There were only rough blankets and lumpy pillows but that did not keep them awake. It seemed like only a moment went by when a loud bell woke them from their slumber. It was still dark but a sputtering candle was placed on a table in their room. They were still wearing the same clothes they had arrived in so dressing was easy.
“I’m busting to go to the toilet,” said Step. “Let’s go look for it.”
As they felt their way along the dark corridor they could see other shapes darting around but not a sound could be heard. Obviously there was a rule about silence but Step couldn’t wait. He saw someone about his size sprinting along the corridor and whispered. “Toilet?”
“Outside,” the figure whispered. Step and Sad looked out the window at the lines of boys waiting outside three outback toilets in the moonlight.
“Bushes,” the figure said before continuing his sprint down the hall.
Step and Sad saw an open door and stepped outside into the chilly air. They dashed around the corner of the house and were pleased to find a large bush to relieve themselves. As they moved back inside, whispering quietly, a tall black figure swooped on them, shaking his head violently.
The prayers were held in a large square room which had no furniture whatsoever except for a chair and table at the front. All the children sat cross legged on cold splintery floorboards. Some adults stood at the back making sure everyone behaved and followed the rules. Step was surprised to see that some girls were present, wearing long blue dresses almost to the ground and with their heads covered by a scarf. A man walked to the front of the room and sat in the chair. On the table he placed a large black book and began to read from it. Every time he stopped the children would say, “Amen.”
The man then announced they would all pray so they had to kneel on the hard floor while they recited lots of words about working hard and being good. At last it was time to go to breakfast which was welcomed by all, after their lengthy fast.
Thick slices of home baked bread, creamy coloured butter and pots of blackberry jam sat beside bowls of hard-boiled eggs and cups of warm milk.
“We grow all our own food,” one of the men told Step and Sad. “We don’t believe in killing animals so sometimes it is hard to find enough to eat. The Good Lord always provides us with enough, so we never starve.”
As they finished eating the man who drove the Land Rover bent over to speak to them.
“This morning you will visit Moses, our leader. He will explain to you how our community works and find you a suitable occupation while you are here.”
Step and Sad followed the man to an office, where they sat in two leather armchairs, facing an old man with white hair, across a large, polished table.
“Welcome boys, to our community, ‘Jehovah’s Children’. As you probably know, we make everything here that we need. Our sheep provide wool which we spin into cloth and make into clothes. We grow wheat which we crush and bake into bread. We have hens to provide eggs and cows to provide milk for butter and cheese.”
Sad interrupted, “But what about these leather chairs and the Land Rover. You didn’t make those!”
Moses laughed, “I see you are a very inquisitive boy. Let me answer that very good question. When people decide to join our community they donate all their worldly goods to ‘Jehovah’s Children’. That means we will never starve, even if we have a particularly bad season. The Land Rover is for emergencies. We used to have just a horse and cart until one of our members became very ill. All our prayers and herbal remedies did not work and we were resigned to the fact that it was the will of God to take this person from us. We all prayed for a sign from God to tell us what to do. Just at that moment a family arrived at the front door wanting to join our community. They all stepped out of the Land Rover and told us it was ours. That was the sign. I drove the sick person for two hours to the nearest hospital and she was saved.”
“Who was she?’ asked Sad, who seemed to very brave, standing up to Moses as he did.
“She is my daughter,” said Moses. “The purpose of this commune is to live in a place free of the sins of the world, but it is not our purpose that people should die when they can be saved.”
Moses wiped his eyes and then looked at the boys with a smile on his face. “Now to get down to the nitty gritty. I have drawn up a timetable to give you a taste of the various jobs available and then you can find what you are good at.”
Step and Sad looked at a large sheet of cardboard. The work assigned to them for that morning said “Dairy”. From 3 o’clock to 5 o’clock the chart said “Spinning”. Moses rang a bell on his desk and a woman in a long brown dress and a happy smile came in to take them to the Dairy.
It was a busy day. In the Dairy they learned how to milk a cow but as milking was over for the day they then had to make butter in a tall wooden container with a long staff which they plunged up and down. At the bottom of the staff was a circular blade which swirled the cream around. The boys took turns as it was tiring work but were rewarded with a pat of butter and lots of watery milk left over which was called butter milk. A short stop for prayers and a drink of water in the Dairy at 11 o’clock and then they were back at work.
At 2 o’clock a bell rang and everyone moved towards the dining room, singing Songs of Praise. They all stood behind their chairs, still singing, until the last song ended. Moses began a long prayer of thanks for the food while Step’s tummy rumbled and Sad almost fell asleep. Lots of thick bread, creamy butter, golden honey and yellow cheese was eaten. Step was told that because it was early Spring there were not many vegetables available. He wondered what would be for dinner. More bread and cheese?
The activity for the afternoon was Spinning. A teenage girl sat by a spindle and instructed them to pass small amounts of wool to her which she deftly twisted and fed into the spinning wheel. As she worked, she asked them all about their life at the orphanage. After they told her about the destruction of their home she sighed, and a tear fell into the wool.
“How I wish I could live in an orphanage like you did. Instead, when I turn 16 I have to marry a man chosen by the elders. I don’t like him at all and am planning my escape.”
Step told her that at the orphanage they had to leave when they turned 15 and find a job and somewhere to live. He talked about Jack who found a job at the Printing Works. He decided not to tell her about his escape in the garbage bin from the farm with the electric fence.
“What will you do if you escape?” asked Sad. “I would help you if I could but I couldn’t even smuggle you into the orphanage because it has burnt down.”
“I don’t know,” said the girl, whose name was Ruth. “I just know that I have to get away from here before my birthday, which is next month, in October. I am not going to marry that horrible man. I want to do things other girls do, like go to the pictures, dance all night, swim at the beach, wear pretty clothes and have lots of boyfriends. I am not ready to settle down and be a good wife.”
Step and Sad looked at each other. Both were thinking they would like to help but they were aware that there would be a huge uproar if Ruth disappeared, especially if it was discovered that they were involved.
Just as the orphans thought they might freeze to death, a bus pulled up outside the ruins of the orphanage. The children climbed wearily on board and were each given a blanket and an apple. This kept them warm and occupied until they pulled up outside a large, brightly lit building. Nurse Smiley stood up at the front of the bus and blew a whistle. The children sat quietly waiting to hear what she had to say.
“We are staying overnight at the Childrens’ Hospital to check everyone for burns or smoke inhalation. Tomorrow morning after breakfast we will meet in this spot, and you will be taken to your accommodation. I hope you can sleep the rest of the night because it is only a few hours until dawn.”
It was hard to sleep in the hospital beds because a doctor or a nurse was always waking someone up to see if they were all right when they would have been perfectly happy to stay asleep. Breakfast came around on little trays after which the children, still in their pyjamas, were taken downstairs and out the front door.
Nurse Smiley and Matron had a large box of clothes which they distributed to the children. Step ended up with a pair of trousers that was far too large and a skinny jumper. Tear wore a dress that reached the ground. Sad was given a tiny pair of shorts and a button through shirt which nearly reached his knees.
“This is only temporary,” said Nurse Smiley. “We are now going to a Scout Hall where we will camp on the floor until we can find more permanent accommodation.”
In the Scout Hall were rows of inflatable mattresses with a sleeping bag sitting beside each one. The red mattresses were for the boys and the green mattresses for the girls. More clothes arrived in another large box so the children spent the day finding some more appropriate and comfortable things to wear. They even found shoes and socks.
At 12 o’clock a long table was set up with sliced bread and butter at one end. The orphans took their bread and then chose a filling for their sandwich. The options were honey, vegemite, peanut butter, cold baked beans, cheese slices, lettuce, tomatoes, egg and corned beef.
Sad smiled over his corned beef and baked bean sandwich. “This is the best sandwich I have ever had,” he said.
Step was content with vegemite and lettuce while Tear had cheese, tomato and egg.
On the end of the table there were glasses and a huge container of 50/50 which is a drink made from lemons and oranges. There were even small squares of fruit cake for those who were still hungry and a barrel of apples and oranges.
In the afternoon Mr Scott took them outside for a game of rounders which is a bit like baseball only it uses a tennis ball and a cricket bat. A group of Scouts arrived later that day and showed the children some of the games they played at their meetings. By six o’clock the orphans were tired after their busy day. The Scout mothers had made large vats of soup which they ate with thick slices of bread toasted over the coals of the camp fire.
The orphans lined up with their bowls and spoons to wash and dry them before stacking them in crates. When all was tidy they sat on their inflatable mattresses while Matron prepared to speak to them. No longer did she wear an imposing three cornered headdress. It was amazing to see her with short grey hair and a simple skirt and jumper. She looked much more like an ordinary human being.
“Until we can find permanent accommodation you will all be fostered by families. We have sent out an urgent request and have eighteen people willing to keep you for up to a month. Tomorrow morning the first of the Foster Parents will arrive. I want you to be on your best behaviour because if you are not good there will be no choice but to send you back and I’m afraid that means you will have to live in the streets as there is no home to go to.” Matron looked sternly at the eighteen children. “Nurse Smiley and I will have to stay at the Nurse’s Home while we are looking for a new place to live, so you definitely can’t stay with us should you have a falling out with your foster parents.”
Then it was lights out until one girl cried out, “My Li-Lo’s gone down.” Soon there were cries from all over the room. Someone had sneaked around and pulled the plugs on the inflatable mattresses. The lights came back on, and the next half hour was spent using a number of pumps to reinflate the beds. Finally, the lights were again turned off and everyone, even Sad, fell asleep.
Tear was hoping that she would be able to stay with Step and Sad, but she was the first to be picked up next morning. The Grown-Up was an older woman who didn’t seem to know much about children as she didn’t have any of her own. She told Tear that once she had a husband but he was killed in the War. She said she had a lovely cottage by the sea and Tear could go for walks along the beach.
They caught a bus from outside the Scout Hall and sat in the front seat, looking at the cars and trucks as they sped past. Then Tear caught a glimpse of the sea as they roared down a steep hill. The bus stopped and Aunt Ella, as she wanted to be called, took her hand and led her down the steps onto the pavement.
“Not far to go now,” she said as they continued down the steep hill.
Tear looked up at a magnificent mansion on their right. “What a beautiful house that is.”
“Yes,” replied Aunt Ella. “A very good friend of mine lives in that house. Maybe we can go and visit her one day.”
Tear thought she would like that if she could explore all the turrets and towers.
Aunt Ella’s house was not very big, but it had a front garden full of flowers and a sunny front veranda with two Adirondack chairs filled with comfy cushions. On one chair a black cat was sleeping but it opened one green eye when they arrived.
Aunt Ella said the cottage had two bedrooms. One was for visitors although she didn’t have many nowadays. There were two single beds with green chenille bedspreads and a wardrobe and chest of drawers where Tear could put her clothes.
“But I don’t have any clothes!” exclaimed Tear. “What I had was lost in the fire.”
“Then we’ll go shopping at the Salvation Army Store. I’m sure we can find you some clothes for not very much money. We can’t have you wearing the same thing every day for a month, can we?”
Aunt Ella prepared some sandwiches for lunch and poured Tear a glass of milk.
“This afternoon I am going to have a rest so you might like to have a look around the neighbourhood. There is a pretty walk down to the beach from here. I’m afraid the hill is too much for me to on the way back and I know young ones love to explore.”
Tear was surprised that she was allowed to go out on her own. At the orphanage they were never allowed out without supervision. After helping Aunt Ella clean up the lunch dishes, she put on a hat from the hall stand and stepped out onto the verandah. In the distance, at the bottom of the steep hill, she could see the sparkle of the sea. The black cat stretched and leapt down onto the boards, running lightly to the front gate.
“Are you coming with me?” asked Tear. “I wish I knew your name.”
At the bottom of the hill stretched a long sandy beach. At one end Tear could see a swimming pool carved out of the rocks. Beyond that stretched a flat area where waves crashed into little round pools and then drained swiftly away. At the other end of the beach large rocks were piled high against the cliff. To her right was a small lagoon fed by a splashing waterfall. Above her, on the top of a towering cliff, was the mansion, with a winding, overgrown track snaking up from the beach.
Where to go first? Tear decided to climb to the mansion but halfway up was stopped by a rockfall which had totally destroyed the path. The black cat pushed on, scrambling over the rocks with ease but Tear was not as nimble at the cat. Back down she clambered, heading off towards the swimming pool and rock platform. For the rest of the afternoon Tear stared into clear rock pools, watching little fish dart around while colourful starfish clung to the sides.
The sun was low in the sky and the air was chilly so Tear climbed the hill back to the cottage. Would Aunt Ella be angry because she was so late?
She needn’t have worried as Aunt Ella treated her like an adult with the same amount of freedom. She turned from the pot of soup she was stirring. “Tomorrow morning, we are going to the Salvation Army Shop and in the afternoon we are having tea with Miss Zipporah Magillacuddy.”
And so it was that Tear, dressed in her pre-loved clothes from the Salvos, accompanied Aunt Ella along the overgrown path to the front door of the mansion. A very, very old lady answered the door.
“How do you do, Miss Magillacuddy,” said Tear dutifully, as she had been instructed.
“Just call me Aunt Zip,” the old woman said. “Now tell me all about your terrible experience with the fire at the orphanage.”
Tear sat with a cup of tea and a scone on her knee while she recounted the events of the past few days. She talked about Sad and how he had saved them all by shouting “Fire”, even though he was an Elective Mute. She described the Scout Hall where the orphans had stayed until they were picked up by Foster Parents.
“Matron and Nurse Smiley are looking for somewhere for the orphans to live as the Opera Orphanage for Unwanted Boys and Girls is no more. It was burnt to the ground,” said Tear sadly. “I loved that place because it was the first time I was happy in my whole life. I had good friends and Nurse Smiley was very kind.”
Aunt Zip looked thoughtful. She turned to her friend. “Ella, would you do something for me as I don’t have a telephone. Would you please ring my solicitor, Mr Moody, and ask him to come and see me when it is convenient?”
On the way home Aunt Ella told Tear some startling news. Last week Aunt Zip had turned 100 and she had received a telegram from the Queen. She didn’t like to talk about it because it made her feel old.
As they entered the cottage Ella was wondering about the solicitor. What was Zipporah Magillacuddy up to this time?”
For Step and Tear, Saturday was a day of trepidation and excitement. Sometimes they spent the day or the weekend with someone pleasant, and sometimes with a person who was not so pleasant. They began to look forward to staying at the orphanage where they usually had a treat of some kind because they were left behind.
When it came time to farewell Jack there was an empty bed in the boys’ section of the orphanage. All the children moved along one bed so that the eldest slept at one end and the youngest at the other. Step moved along the row and wondered who would fill the empty bed beside him.
It wasn’t long before a small boy was brought into the dormitory late one night. Step wondered if he had been left at the front door in the same way he had been all those months ago. Nurse Smiley was talking to him softly and showing him where to clean his teeth and visit the toilet. Step was excited. As soon as Nurse Smiley walked away he whispered, “Hello, welcome to the orphanage. My name is Step and I will be your friend.”
The boy rolled over with his back to Step and lay still. He certainly wasn’t going to be friends with Step tonight.
In the morning the boy lay in his bed with his eyes tightly shut. Step and the other boys made their beds and then dressed for the day. It happened to be a Saturday so Step hoped he wouldn’t be chosen because he wanted to make friends with the new boy. When he saw Tear he rushed over to her. “There’s a new boy arrived last night. He’s younger than us and won’t talk. I hope we don’t get chosen by anyone. If I have to go, will you look after him?”
Tear assured him she would and so they both sat down facing each other, making silly faces and bursting into giggles as the adults paraded slowly around the room. Their behaviour must have frightened any would-be Foster Parents because they remained in their seats, along with four other orphans, when all the grown-ups had gone.
Nurse Smiley walked over to Step and Tear, asking them quietly to please come with her to see Matron. They looked at each other, wondering if they were in trouble for misbehaving during the Inspection.
Matron was seated behind the table, wearing her three-pointed headdress, and looking very formidable. She stared at the children for a whole minute before speaking.
“I’m glad you are home for the weekend. We have a new boy at the orphanage and so far he hasn’t said a word. He could be an Elective Mute. That means…” she said, looking at the children’s questioning eyes, “he probably can talk but just chooses not to. He is more likely to talk to you than to the adults, so if he does speak, could you let Nurse Smiley know what he says and that will help us to help him.”
“I tried to talk to him last night,” said Step, “but he just rolled over and stayed very still.”
“We’ll do our best to be his friend,” said Tear. “Maybe it would be best if we didn’t try to make him talk. It might make him more determined not to speak.”
“You are very wise for a child,” said Matron approvingly. “We will meet again next week and see what you have discovered. Remember we are only trying to help him.”
“What is his name?” asked Step. “At least he should be able to hear us.”
“He goes by the name of Sad. That is not his real name, but he will not respond to anything else.” Matron stood up and waved the children away. “Nurse Smiley, if you hear anything let me know straight away.”
Step and Tear filed out of the room, eager to find their new friend. As they approached the Games Room they heard a commotion.
“Speak… Speak…Speak… Speak…” the four remaining orphans chanted. They crowded around Sad and made ugly faces at him. He stared stonily back at them, his face betraying no emotion.
“Leave him alone,” Tear called out. They turned, surprised that such a small girl would stand up to them. “You are not to tease him, or else you will find yourself in the most serious trouble. If this gets out, I imagine you would all be sent to your rooms without any tea.”
“Cook is doing roast lamb for us tonight,” said one boy. They moved away quickly.
“Let’s get the cricket set,” said another. “We’ll go outside and play.”
Step moved over to Sad. “Hi, my name is Step and this is Tear. How about we show you around the orphanage.”
Sad nodded and followed the children to the School House, the Kitchen, the Library, the Projector Room and finally to the Mess Hall. It was time for lunch, so they gave him a tray and discussed what he might like to eat. At no time did he speak, but Step and Tear pretended this was quite normal, hoping all the time that he might say something.
When the other orphans arrived back on Sunday night Nurse Smiley held a meeting in the Games Room. Sad was nowhere to be seen but maybe he had been sent to Matron.
“Listen up everyone,” she said. “We have a new boy at the orphanage. His name is Sad and as some of you have already discovered…” she looked hard at the four children who had scared Sad the day before. “Sad doesn’t speak. Anyone who teases him or tries to get him to talk will lose privileges. You are to be kind and courteous to every child in this orphanage and to all the teachers and staff. Understood?”
“Yes, Nurse Smiley,” the children chanted.
Bedtime arrived, lights were put out and soft snores could be heard in the boys’ dormitory. Only Sad lay awake, his mind continually going over the events of the past few weeks. After what he had seen, he felt he could never talk to anyone ever again.
Faintly, in the darkness, Sad saw a light. It was more a glow than a light, and he wondered what it was. Slipping out of bed he crept to the door and looked down the long corridor towards the girls’ dormitory. There he saw wisps of white curling up into the vaulted ceiling. Surely it wasn’t a ghost. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but this was not normal.
It was then he smelt smoke. A lick of flame illuminated the darkness and Sad suddenly realised the orphanage was on fire.
“Fire! Fire! Fire!” screamed Sad in the loudest voice he could muster.
Boys and girls clambered out of their beds. Nurse Smiley and Matron arrived and escorted the children outside in an orderly fashion. Standing shivering on the playing fields they watched as the orphanage was engulfed in flames. Nurse Smiley did a quick head count.
“One girl is missing. Who is not here?”
“It’s Tear,” answered the girls. “She stayed behind to get something precious from under her bed. She said she couldn’t leave it behind.”
Nurse Smiley looked back at the orphanage. To go inside would be madness as flames were licking every doorway and window. Just then the fire brigade arrived, and the children could see Nurse Smiley talking to the Fire Chief and pointing to the girls’ dormitory. Flames roared out the window making any chance of climbing in and rescuing Tear well-nigh impossible.
“There she is,” called a girl. On top of the tallest tower of the orphanage stood a small figure silhouetted against the flames. In her arms she held something that could be a book. It seemed that she was contemplating jumping off the tower, but they all knew that would only end badly.
Suddenly the ladder on the Fire Engine began to rise. It moved towards the tower at the top of the orphanage. A Fireman began climbing the ladder even as it rose higher and higher. It stopped just short of the ledge where Tear was standing. The Fireman reached the top and held out his arms. Tear hesitated and then jumped towards the Fireman. The book fell down, disappearing into the darkness below.
“She’s safe,” the group murmured in unison. Step sat on the grass sobbing with relief. Sad walked over to him and sat down silently. Step looked at him in astonishment.
“You spoke! You warned everyone about the fire. If it wasn’t for you, we would all have burnt to a crisp.”
Sad nodded. “I had to speak. It was a matter of life or death. I…I saw something terrible a little while ago and it fills my brain night and day. It was only when I saw the fire I forgot the terrible thing I saw and realised I had to warn everyone.”
Step knew better than to ask Sad what he had seen. Maybe he would tell him one day when they became good friends but for now it was enough that Sad was talking.
The Fireman brought Tear over to Nurse Smiley. “My album. Did you see my album?” asked Tear. She seemed to be in a daze as if she didn’t realise how close to perishing she had been. “My photo album that my mother gave me. It has pictures of me when I was a baby with my mummy.” With that she burst into tears and was comforted by Nurse Smiley.
The sad little group of sixteen children shivering in their pyjamas sat on the grass of the Playing Field and wondered what would happen now. They had no home. Where would they live? What would they wear? How would they eat?
Step enjoyed his journey back to the orphanage. He sat beside a friendly policeman who stopped in Goulburn to buy him a pie and milkshake. While they drove past dry and dusty paddocks Step told him the story of his dreadful weekend at the farm.
“People like that shouldn’t be allowed to foster children,” said the policeman, whose name was Jim. “I’m going to inform the orphanage authorities so they will strike them off the list.”
After that Step dozed in the warm car and was quite surprised to open his eyes outside the orphanage door. Jim knocked loudly and was greeted by Nurse Smiley, who ushered them into Matron’s office.
“It would seem the pleasant young lady who picks up the orphans is just a front for a number of very nasty people who mistreat the children and sometimes lock them up so they can’t escape. Who knows how many children are in the same situation as Step but they haven’t been clever enough to stow away in a garbage bin?” Jim said, glaring at Matron as if it was all her fault.
Matron looked very upset but did her best to hide her feelings. “I assure you Constable Hooper that this is not a regular occurrence. The young lady was carefully vetted and ticked all the boxes for a foster parent. It was the first time she has offered her services and of course it will also be the last. I will leave it up to you to investigate what exactly is going on here but rest assured we always make sure that foster parents are suitable, to the best of our abilities.”
Jim sighed and stood ready to leave. “All the best young lad. I hope you find some kind foster parents who will give you the home you deserve. If I was married I’d foster you myself but having a single policeman for a dad would be pretty hard on any boy. I’m almost never home.”
Step waved goodbye to his new friend and, looking at the clock, found he had not only missed school but most of the chores as well. He went off to find Tear, who was in the kitchen drying the last of the dishes.
“Wait until you hear about my weekend!”
They both spoke at the same time so that they sounded like twins. Step, conscious of Tear’s feelings, asked her to go first. She told him all about her Fantastic Fun Day and ended triumphantly.
“I’m so happy because I know I’m not an orphan. I have a mother and even though we can’t see each other we will meet again. When I am older I will meet her at a café and drink cappuccinos. We will talk about what happened in our lives.” A tear glistened on Tear’s cheek but she shook it off. “I am not going to cry about this or anything else because every time I am sad I will think about the Fantastic Fun Day and it will make me happy.”
“That’s so cool,” Step said a little enviously. He thought of his own father and the step-mother who made everyone’s life miserable. He wondered where his own mother was and if she would ever find him at the orphanage. However, he was not one to dwell on sad thoughts so he recounted his story to Tear who stood, open mouthed with horror as he spoke of his treatment and escape.
“All I can say is that next weekend will seem tame after this one,” said Step. “In fact I’ll be quite happy to stay at the orphanage.”
The rest of the week passed uneventfully. The other children were not unfriendly although Step was glad he had Tear to talk to as the other children could be very changeable; chatty and kind at times and cold and aloof at others.
One of the older boys would be leaving at the end of the month. Jack was fifteen and so could leave school and go out to work. A big party was planned as a farewell but behind all the jollity Step could see that Jack was worried. Step didn’t have the courage to ask where he would live and work but thought he would like to know because this could be him one day in the future.
He was fortunate enough to be partnered with Jack for chores one afternoon. The older boy was splitting logs with an axe, and it was Step’s job to load the pieces of wood into a wheelbarrow. He plucked up the courage to ask what he was going to do when he left the orphanage.
“I’ve got a job lined up,” said Jack. “It’s with a printing company in the warehouse department. They told me I will just be doing odd jobs at first but if I work hard, I should get an apprenticeship.”
“Where will you live?” asked Step, imagining the other world of being a grown-up.
“There’s an old lady who has a spare room in a house near the printing works. She will give me meals and a bed but I won’t have much money left over. It will be lonely too without all my friends at the orphanage.” Jack looked sadly around him. “One day I hope to earn enough money to rent myself a little house and then I can have friends come and visit.”
It sounded like a good plan so Step got to wondering what he would do when he grew up. He talked to Tear about this and they both decided that they would look for jobs that earned lots of money. They couldn’t think of any so they returned to their usual topic of conversation. Who would they go with this coming weekend?
Saturday morning arrived with the boys and girls lining up on opposite sides of the room. A man walked in with two children by his side, a boy and a girl. They were about the same age as Step and Tear so Step stared at the boy hoping to attract his attention.
“Let’s have him,” the boy called to his Dad, pointing at Step. “She’ll do for Bethany,” he said, indicating Tear.
So it was that Step and Tear were to spend the weekend with the same family. They couldn’t believe their luck.
Sitting in a blue and white Ford Fairlane with the man and his two children, Step and Tear peered excitedly out the window as they pulled into a large circular driveway. The house they were to stay in was large and imposing, with tall white pillars each side of the front door and little balconies off each upstairs bedroom.
Step was shown the room he was sharing with Byron. In it was everything a boy could want. There were shelves loaded with games and toy aeroplanes. A large stereo record player and radio stood in one corner of the room. On top of a table was a small box which Step realised was a television, even though he had only ever seen them in shop windows. Byron was so lucky! He had everything he wanted. He even had a football table where players skewered on metal rods could be twisted and turned to kick the ball from one end to the other.
Step found his new friend was great company until Step started winning at football. Byron wanted to stop playing and asked him to choose a record to play on the record player. Step chose Rock Around the Clock by Bill Haley and the Comets but Byron said that was last year’s hit and chose Heartbreak Hotel by Elvis Presley. Byron pretended to be Elvis, playing an air guitar when he suddenly lost interest and turned on the television.
“There’s not much on the box,” he said, peering at the small black and white picture. “It’s all about the Olympics at the moment. You know, swimming, running and all that stuff.”
Step wanted to watch but Byron turned it off and indicated he was going outside. The boys ran down the large sweeping staircase and out onto the lawn. Inside a small room opening onto the outside was every imaginable piece of sporting equipment from tennis rackets to cricket bats and balls, hockey sticks and some things Step had never seen before. Byron pulled them all out until the lawn was covered.
“Let’s try baseball,” suggested Step. “I’ll pitch while you bat.”
Step was pretty good at baseball as this was all he ever played at the orphanage. He threw the ball carefully at Byron who made a huge swing but missed by a mile.
“Throw it properly,” yelled Byron. “How am I supposed to hit the ball when you throw it all over the place?”
Step tried again and produced a perfect pitch. Again, Byron missed it and threw his bat down angrily.
“Let me show you how it’s done,” Byron sneered.
He picked up the ball and aimed it straight for Step’s head. Step tried to avoid it but it hit him a glancing blow on the cheek so that lots of little lights exploded behind his eyes. It was some time before he was able to pick himself off the ground and by then Byron was nowhere to be seen. Tear came running over, followed by Bethany, and led him to a seat. She examined the rapidly rising bump on his cheekbone.
“We’ll have to get some ice on that,” she said. “Bethany, where is the kitchen?”
Bethany was a mouse like girl who rarely spoke, but she wordlessly led them to a large room where a cook and a maid were preparing food.
“Please may I have some ice for Step’s head?” asked Tear.
“I’m not asking how that happened,” said Cook. “Because we already know, don’t we Bethany.”
Bethany nodded and as Cook applied ice she told the children what they already were beginning to realise. Byron was a bully and treated everyone and everything the same way. He had no respect for others and did his best to hurt them when he wasn’t winning.
Step decided to play with Tear and Bethany. It seemed that Bethany was happy for their company because it meant she wasn’t alone to put up with her brother’s bad temper. Byron was nowhere to be seen until dinner time, when he turned up looking glum and sulky. They ate in the kitchen with Cook as it seemed the parents were busy entertaining. At the back of Step’s mind was a lurking fear of what Byron might do to him that night so he delayed bedtime as long as he could. They played Monopoly but when Byron saw he was losing he wiped all the pieces off the table and ran out of the room. Bethany pleaded with him to come back to play a card game, but he refused, disappearing upstairs into his room and playing music very loudly.
Suddenly the father could be heard bounding up the stairs. “Cut that racket or I’ll smash all those records to smithereens,” he yelled. “How am I supposed to entertain guests when you make all that noise.”
The mother came into the games room. “Off to bed, all of you. Nighty night.”
The time had come. Step quietly opened the door of Byron’s room to see him curled up sobbing on one of the twin beds. Despite all the lovely things he owned he seemed a very unhappy boy. Step put on his pyjamas, cleaned his teeth and climbed into his bed. In the other bed the sobs continued. Step decided he could do one of two things. He could ignore the sobs and try to go to sleep or he could talk to Byron and maybe make him feel better.
He started by recounting his adventures of the previous weekend, how he travelled a long way to a farm and was made to sleep on a verandah and eat the leftover food on its way to the pigs. He told how he escaped in a garbage bin and was picked up by a policeman in Tumbarumba. As he talked he noticed the sobs had stopped. Byron was either listening or asleep.
Then he went on to tell of how he arrived at the orphanage with his father because he wasn’t wanted by his stepmother, of the room where he slept, with eight beds and eight boy orphans, of the little school where the children ranged from Kindergarten to 6th Class and sometimes beyond and the massive kitchen where he peeled potatoes and wiped dishes with Tear.
Step stopped talking. Byron must be asleep by now. He jumped when a voice said, “I wish I lived at the orphanage…. I’m sorry I hit you. I’ll try to be better tomorrow.”
The next day Step could see that Byron was trying to be on his best behaviour. “I want you to come back again for a weekend. Please,” Byron pleaded.
Here was the boy who had everything, wanting Step to come over and stay for another weekend. If he did come back he might be able to help Byron with his problems or he might find himself a victim of Byron’s anger once more.
As Step and Tear climbed into the big luxurious car ready to head back to the orphanage, Byron and Bethany waved goodbye. Would they ever see each other again? They were children and it was the grown-ups who made the decisions so none of them knew what the future would hold.
Before I tell you about Step’s journey with the policeman to the orphanage I will go back in time to Saturday morning, when Step left happily with the pretty young woman, looking forward to his weekend on a farm.
Tear saw him wave as he left and wished very much that she was going with him. All her courage left her and she was about to live up to her name when a pale blonde woman stopped in front of her and took both of her hands, gently pulling her up.
“It can only be one day, but I want you to have the time of your life. Will you come with me?”
Tear felt that she knew this woman but couldn’t remember where she had seen her before. She felt comfortable in her presence, however, and the tears that almost came out of her eyes dried up immediately. She was going to have a wonderful day, so why worry about the future?
“Just call me Tilly,” said the woman. “Now let me tell you what we are going to do first.”
Tilly took Tear to a big department store where they looked at childrens’ clothes. She helped Tear select a red and white dress, some white sandals, a straw hat and a white handbag. Tilly told her to put them on while she put the old clothes in a carry bag printed in a black houndstooth design.
“Now I’m going to take you to have waffles and ice-cream,” exclaimed Tilly excitedly. They sat on high stools in a café overlooking the harbour, savouring the sweet, crunchy waffles. Tear thought she had never been so happy.
Tilly led Tear down to the ferry terminal and soon they were standing on the bow of a ferry, the wind in their hair and the salt spray in their faces. They pulled into a jetty, clambering ashore with lots of other families.
“Look up,” said Tilly.
Tear saw the biggest face she had ever seen in her life. It had large white teeth, bright red cheeks and popping eyes. Its hair stood up like a crown. Behind it she could see a fairyland of towers and turrets, enormous wheels and what looked like little trains climbing up steep rails of steel.
“We are going to buy a ticket,” said Tilly, “that allows us to go on any ride we want. How about we start with the merry-go-round?”
Tear walked under the white, shiny teeth and stared around while Tilly bought the tickets. A woman was selling pink fluffy stuff on a stick and before she knew it Tilly was handing her one.
“It’s called Fairy Floss and it just dissolves in your mouth like magic. Look at the horses on the merry-go-round. Which one would you like?”
Tear chose a prancing black horse with a flowing silver mane and tail. Tilly sat astride a golden horse with a colourful saddle and laughed happily at the people waving from the side.
They tried the Ferris Wheel, looking out across Sydney Harbour as they teetered at the top. The Ghost Train was scary when a figure stepped out and touched Tear on the arm. They even went on the Roller Coaster, climbing slowly to the top before swooping down the other side. Tear felt a little sick in the stomach after that but she wasn’t going to tell Tilly.
“Hot dog or sausage roll?” asked Tilly.
Tear decided on a hot dog. She hoped it wasn’t a real dog in the middle of the bun, although Tilly assured her it was made from pig meat. Tilly also ordered a big chocolate milkshake which she said they could share.
The sun was low on the horizon as they took the ferry back to Circular Quay. Tilly wanted to go to Chinatown for dinner but the motion of the boat made Tear feel very, very sick. Soon her waffles, fairy floss and hotdogs had vanished over the side of the boat into the sea. Once they were back on land Tear felt better so Tilly led her excitedly to Chinatown, past shops with shiny orange ducks hanging in the window and up a grand staircase to a room full of large circular tables. Because they were only two, they were given a small table in the corner.
“I’m going to order my favourite dish to share with you. It’s long and short, sweet and sour, fried soup. The long and short bits are the noodles, the sweet and sour are the flavours, the fried part is the wontons and as for the soup…. well it’s not soup. It’s a sauce. I’ll get some fried rice with that.”
It really was delicious, but as the food disappeared Tear was filled with dread. Her lovely day was coming to an end.
“We’re going to the pictures! This day ain’t over yet,” cried Tilly.
They skipped along the pavement until they came to a brightly lit picture theatre. Tilly bought tickets and a box of jaffas to roll along the floor and surprise the other patrons. The picture, called “Old Yeller”, was about a stray dog that adopted a family and became a much loved part of it until it was bitten by a wolf with rabies. Tear lived up to her name and Tilly joined her as they both sobbed their way out of the picture theatre. Everyone around them was doing the same.
“We have to cheer ourselves up after that,” said Tilly. “It was a wonderful story but so, so sad,”
Tear agreed. She had never seen anything that she enjoyed so much even though it had made her sad. It was a different sort of sadness, because when you walked out of the theatre you realised that it had nothing to do with your own life. In fact Tear had forgotten all her own fears and worries while she was caught up in the story of Old Yeller.
Now they came rushing back as she realised the day must be over. Tilly had one more trick up her sleeve, however. She hailed a taxi and whispered to Tear. “You might see some strange people where we are going but I am dying for a coffee and there is only one place I know where I can get a proper cappuccino and that is Kings Cross. You can have a hot chocolate.”
They climbed out of the taxi into a busy street full of people and cars. Some women were beautifully dressed, standing around as if they were waiting for someone. Tear didn’t have time to stare. Tilly rushed her down some stairs into a dark room full of loud music and sat her in a comfy lounge while she went to order drinks. To Tear’s relief the loud music stopped and was replaced by a soft melody on a piano.
Tilly took a swig of her coffee and sat back, wiping her lips with a handkerchief.
“Phew! I needed that.”
Tear sipped her hot chocolate and found it to be very nice. She noticed Tilly was staring at her.
“Tear, I have something to tell you. I wanted you to remember this day for ever more because I can never see you again.”
She took another gulp of coffee and continued. “I am about to be married to a man called Charles. He doesn’t know that six years ago I had a baby… a little girl. I was too poor to keep her or look after her, but my sister tried her best with her until she had to leave to go away for a job. Then she took her to an orphanage. If Charles knew about the baby he would refuse to marry me. I can’t lose him.” She looked into Tear’s eyes. “Tear, you are that baby and I am your mother, but we can never see each other again after today. One day, when you are grown up, we might be able to meet again but I want you to know now you can’t count on it. So just remember today and don’t ever tell anyone that you met your mother. Understand?”
Tear didn’t know what to say but she was determined not to cry. They caught a taxi back to the orphanage and Tilly took her inside, kissing her briefly before waving goodbye.
It was late and all the other children were in bed. Nurse Smiley quicky rushed her to the bathroom and checked she had cleaned her teeth. Soon she was in her pyjamas and lying under a blanket. Over and over she said to herself. “I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.”
Step looked around him and realised the property was surrounded by a high fence. He remembered the woman with the sweet face who brought him here yesterday. She had stopped at the gate and spoken on a two-way radio before the gates opened.
The man must have read his thoughts because he immediately said, “Now don’t you go getting any ideas about escaping. That fence is electric and if you touch it you will be frizzled like a sausage. No-one leaves without my say so. Right? Now off you go and dig up some potatoes for our dinner.”
As Step swung the mattock into the hard, dry soil, he considered his options. The children must leave for school each day and the mother must go out to do the food shopping. Maybe he could slip out the gate as it opened. He didn’t like his chances of getting away unobserved and he imagined Bluey being sent after him. It was not a pleasant thought.
Later that day the man came down to the potato paddock. “That’s enough potatoes for now. Take those up to the kitchen and then I want you to take the bins down to the gate.”
Step wondered how the rubbish truck managed to pick up the bins behind a locked gate but realised that at least the contents would be thrown in the truck and travel a long way from the farm. The bins were as high as Step’s chest and made of corrugated galvanised iron. He struggled with the first one until the man gave him a trolley to put it on. Now it was on wheels it rolled easily down the driveway. He left it next to the gate and toiled back up the hill for the second one. As he dragged the trolley he had an idea. If he hid in one of the bins early in the morning the gate would open and he could escape. He might even get a ride in the rubbish truck.
Early next morning Step grabbed his small bag and crawled out from under his newspapers. Bluey growled at him as if he knew what he was up to. If Bluey barks then the man will come out and I will be stuck here for at least another week, thought Step
He pushed through some bushes so Bluey couldn’t see him anymore. Then he scurried towards the gate keeping himself hidden from the house. The bins loomed in front of him in the darkness. Yesterday he had checked which one had the least rubbish but they were both nearly full. He pulled off one metal lid and began throwing the contents into the bushes. When there was enough space inside he leaped in, replacing the lid. Over his head he dragged a flour bag which he had found in the shed. When the garbage collector took the lid off he would only see the bag.
Step sat in the bin shivering with fear. So many things could go wrong. What if he was hurt as the bin was emptied? What if Bluey came down with the man before the garbage truck arrived? If he did get into the truck, how would he escape?
Soon he heard the rumble of the truck. A voice spoke on the two-way radio. He could hear the gate opening. Then he could feel himself hoisted in the air. He fell awkwardly into a pile of rubbish in the back of the truck. The contents of the other bin landed on top of him. The truck started moving and he realised with growing excitement that he was leaving the farm. He had escaped!
The truck drove on for about half an hour. Then it stopped and more rubbish fell into the truck. By squeezing into one corner Step managed to avoid the worst of it but he smelt terrible and wondered how he could face the world again in his present state.
Finally, the truck stopped for a long time and the smell was atrocious. Step decided he must be at the Dump so climbed up to the top of the truck and looked around. Piles of rubbish stretched in all directions but he could see a road winding through the wasteland. Follow that road and I must reach a town, he thought.
The sides of the truck were very high so he waited until it began to empty its contents. First of all the engine started. Then the floor beneath him began to move and tilt. He rolled out onto a pile of debris, jumping up and running before anyone could stop him.
Step must have run several miles before he crossed a small stream gurgling under a wooden bridge. The water was clear and cold. After drinking his fill he carefully removed his smelly clothes and jumped into the stream, scrubbing himself all over with his hands to remove the stench of the garbage truck. Then he rinsed his clothes as best he could, putting them on while still wet. The sun was warm in the sky and he hoped he would dry off as he ran. At least he didn’t smell so bad.
A sign ahead proclaimed the town of Tumbarumba, population one hundred and three. Now Step faced a new problem. He had no money so how would he eat and where would he sleep? Up ahead he could see a roadside café where sandwiches, pies and sausage rolls were advertised on a large poster. His stomach growled with hunger. He watched a family walking to their car, throwing the remains of their lunch in the bin. As soon as they drove away he scurried to the bin and found half a meat pie, some sandwich crusts and almost a whole apple. Sitting under a nearby tree he happily filled his stomach. After all, it was better than eating the pig swill at the farm.
The combination of food, warm sunshine and exercise made Step very tired. In minutes he was asleep, only waking as the shadows grew long and the chill of the evening entered his bones. He knew that he must find a warm place for the night so walked past the scattering of shops in the main street hoping to find a cosy corner in which to shelter. The Tumbarumba Hardware Store had a large, covered porch in front of a locked entrance door so Step huddled in one corner, shivering and wondering how he could get back to the Opera Orphanage for Unwanted Children. It occurred to him that they may have replaced him and that some other boy could now be sleeping in his bed.
“What have we here?” boomed a man’s voice.
Step looked up to see a large policeman looming over him. His first thought was to run but the policeman gripped him firmly by the arm.
“Don’t be scared. I’ll take you home because little boys should not be out by themselves at night. Where do you live?” The policeman sounded kind but Step was not sure he could trust him. What if he sent him back to the Farm?
“My home is the Opera Orphanage for Unwanted Children, but I don’t know where it is,” Step answered.
“So you ran away, did you? I’m afraid I’ll have to send you back. Can’t have boys sleeping out the front of shops.”
Step said nothing. He sat in the Police Station while the policeman spoke on a big black telephone. He heard his name mentioned once or twice and lots of “I see” and “That explains it”. He looked questioningly at the policeman when he hung up the phone.
“Well young man, it seems you didn’t run away from the orphanage but you were having a weekend with Foster Parents. You are a long way from home so there will be a lot of explaining to do. One of our men will be driving to Sydney in the morning so he’ll give you a lift to the orphanage. In the meantime you can have a kip in the cell. No-one is in there at the moment.
That was how Step spent a night in a prison cell. He didn’t mind. He knew that tomorrow he would be back in his own bed, looked after by Nurse Smiley and catching up with his new friend Tear.
The week passed quickly and before he knew it Step realised it was Friday night again. His heart beat faster when he thought about Inspection Day. Even if he had to work hard for the weekend it would be nice to live in a house with a normal family. How he hoped he would be chosen by the Foster Parents.
Tear sat opposite him in the Inspection Room. She looked very frightened but was determined not to cry. The doors opened and in came the adults in ones and twos. A young woman with a sweet face caught Step’s eye.
“Hi there! How would you like to live on a farm for the weekend? There won’t be much hard work, just collecting the eggs of a morning. There’s nothing better than a fresh boiled egg with some home-made bread cut into soldiers to dip in the yolk.” She smiled and prattled on. “There’s a billabong where you can swim if it’s hot and horses to ride.”
Step was thrilled. He followed her to a Land Rover and threw his small bag in the back. They drove for what seemed like forever and it was nearly sunset when she pulled up in front of a tumbledown house at the end of a long driveway. He wondered about getting back to the orphanage in time for school on Monday. Climbing out of the Land Rover he walked to the back and grabbed his bag.
“See you”, called the woman as she swung the car in a circle and headed off down the track.
Step looked in amazement as the vehicle disappeared in a cloud of dust. Turning back to the house he climbed the rotting wooden steps to the verandah, knocking nervously on the front door.
“Go round the back,” called a man’s voice. It didn’t sound too friendly, but Step was relieved that at least the house was occupied.
Step pushed past prickly bushes until he came to a small verandah where a large, ferocious dog showed its teeth. Fortunately, it was on a chain so Step was able to avoid its excited lunges. The man wheezed and then spat on the grass.
“Took your time getting here, didn’t you?” the man said in an accusing voice. “Weekend’s half over already. This is where you’ll be sleeping, beside Bluey.”
The man pointed to a strip of dirty carpet on the veranda floor beside the dog kennel.
“There’s some newspaper if you get cold. Now your job is to feed the animals. After each meal we put the leftovers in a bucket. You can have first pick and then take the rest down to the pig sty. Don’t eat too much. I want our pigs to get nice and fat. Now take this wheat around to the chook pen and when you get back you can go through the scraps for the pigs.”
Step looked through the window into a well-lit room where a woman and two children sat around a wooden table eating and drinking. He realised how thirsty he was and asked if he could have a glass of water.
“You’ll be drinking from the tank when you give the animals their water. I’ll give you the Vandal Proof Key in the morning. Meantime you’ll just have to share with the pigs.”
Step carried a billy can full of wheat to the chook pen. As he scattered it around he looked longingly at their water bowl. It was full of feathers and other unspeakable things but he dipped his fingers in and sucked them gladly. He comforted himself with the thought that he would be going home to the orphanage tomorrow.
The remains of the dinner were disgusting. He found a chicken wing which looked relatively untouched and nibbled on it doubtfully. Some peas and a potato rounded off his meal but an orange he found was soft and covered in mould on one side.
He carried the heavy bucket to the pig pen where he was greeted with delighted squeals and snorts. The water trough was repulsive, so Step reconciled himself to spending a thirsty night. At least he could look forward to clean, fresh tank water in the morning.
Looking back on that night Step decided it was one of the worst of his life. As the hours passed by the cold seeped into his bones despite covering himself with newspaper. Bluey chewed noisily on his bone and growled at the owls and other night creatures as if they might take it off him.
And the thirst! Step had read that if you put a pebble in your mouth it stops you being thirsty but even though he selected a small smooth stone from amongst the bushes it did little to help. Needless to say, he was up at dawn waiting for the Vandal Proof Key.
The man appeared and let Bluey off his chain. The dog disappeared with an excited yelp and ran in circles around and around the house. He showed Step the Vandal Proof Key. It was made of brass and shaped like a T. The man hauled a dirty bucket to the water tank and set it beneath the tap, using the T to open the valve. As the rusty water rushed out Step put out his hand to catch some drops. The man pushed his hand away.
“Wait until it’s full. We can’t waste water.”
Finally the bucket was full and the man took the T and put it in his pocket. Step lifted the heavy bucket and headed off to the pig pen.
“Don’t you dare spill a drop, or I’ll have your guts for garters,” the man called out in a nasty voice before going back into the house.
Step put the bucket down carefully and scooped the water out with his hands. Never had anything tasted so good. Once his thirst was quenched, he set about the unpleasant task of cleaning out the water trough before filling it with fresh, clean water. The pigs pushed him aside as they drank noisily and happily, dropping bits of food in it so that it soon looked just as putrid as when he started.
The breakfast scraps consisted of greasy bacon rinds and burnt toast so Step decided to give them a miss. He imagined dinner that night at the orphanage. It might only be a lamb chop and three vegetables but it would be clean and served on a white plate with a knife and fork. Beside it would be a glass of milk and after would come a pudding with custard. When would the woman who brought him here come back to get him?
“Hey you.” The man kneeled down to Step’s level and looked him in the eye. “We think we might like to keep you so we are sending word to the orphanage that we will be your Foster Parents. Who knows, you might live here with us for the rest of your life. We could find you a spot to sleep in the hay shed if you work hard.”
Step was speechless. A wave of horror overwhelmed him. One thing he was sure of. He was not going to stay in this dreadful place one more day.
Step was excited and scared at the same time. It was the day of the Inspection and he wondered where he would be sleeping that night. Would he stay in the orphanage or would some people take him home for the weekend?
He took special care dressing himself and combed his hair until it sat flat on his head. The other boys were subdued, all wondering what was in store for them. They filed into the Inspection Room, boys sitting on one side and girls on the other. They sat in order of size, from the youngest to the oldest. Step was the first one seated on his side of the room. He looked across at Lottie, her ringlets swirling around her head as she glanced this way and that for her Foster Parents.
The door opened and the Parents walked in. They came in twos or sometimes just alone, walking past each child and checking them carefully up and down. A tall, thin woman with black hair in a bun and a pointy face asked Step his name.
“My name is Step,” he answered in a clear voice.
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
“Only two days,” he said.
“You look a bit scrawny to me. I need a big strong boy to do lots of heavy work.” She moved on.
Lottie disappeared with her Foster Parents. “So long suckers,” she called out cheerfully. “I hope I never see any of you ever again.”
Two of the biggest boys left with the tall thin woman. They looked unhappy, realising they had a weekend of hard work ahead of them. All they could hope for was that she would give them lots to eat and maybe pay them for their work.
Suddenly the crying girl appeared with her aunt. Nurse Smiley sat her down in Lottie’s seat and the aunt moved swiftly away. All the Foster Parents had left with the chosen children so Step realised he was staying at the orphanage for the weekend. He looked at the small girl who was still crying and crossed the floor to talk to her.
“Hello, my name is Step and I have only been here two days. Nurse Smiley is kind, the food is good and the beds are warm and comfortable. It’s not such a bad place. What is your name?”
“My aunt calls me Tear because I am always crying,” she said. “I miss my Mummy and my Daddy and know I will never see them again so I can’t stop crying.”
Step was worried. He had to get this girl to stop crying. If they could be friends, he would have someone to talk to and someone to sit with when he ate his meals. They could work together in the afternoon and maybe sit together in school.
“Look at me,” said Step. “I’ll be your friend and help you whenever I can but you must promise me you will stop crying. The other children here are not very friendly so it is always good to have an ally. The world is not so bleak when you have someone on your side.”
Tear stopped crying and looked at Step. It had been a long time since she felt as though someone cared. Even her aunt was always too cross and too busy to listen to her but now she felt something almost like happiness.
Nurse Smiley came into the room. “Come with me Tear and I will show you to your room. Then you can have your lunch in the Mess Hall with Step.”
For the first time Step looked forward to eating a meal. He picked up a tray, collected his soup and bread and sat down at the end of a bench. Soon Tear came into the room so he waved, and she came over to join him, balancing her tray of soup with great care.
He told her all about the school and hoped she would be in First Class like he was. Maybe they could sit together? Then he talked about the afternoon jobs and warned her not to peel potatoes with a knife.
Nurse Smiley came into the Mess Hall.
“Children, listen up please.”
The buzz in the room stopped and all eyes looked at her expectantly.
“Of course, you will have your jobs this afternoon but as a special treat, because you did not get chosen today, we will be having a projector night after dinner. The film we are going to show today is called Pollyanna and is about a girl who is always glad about everything. I hope it will make you feel glad that you are looked after and cared for at the Opera Orphanage for Unwanted Children.”
The children clapped and cheered. They all carried their plates to the kitchen and looked at the roster to see what their job was for that afternoon. Step was on washing up but because Tear was new she wasn’t on the list.
Cook glared at Step. She had eyebrows that ran in a straight line above her eyes and looked very ferocious. “You again! How do I know you won’t slice your hand with the big knife and turn the water red with your blood?”
Step promised to be very careful and put a glove on the bandaged hand. Tear was given a tea towel and told to wipe the dishes until they were perfectly dry. They worked away happily and talked about all sorts of things, including the film they were going to watch that night. Life at the orphanage wasn’t so bad after all.
The schoolroom was a small weatherboard building outside the orphanage. Step walked up the wooden steps and hung his new satchel on a peg on the wall. The classroom was square, with three rows of desks on one side and four on the other. There were two blackboards, one on each side of the room and in the middle was the teacher’s desk, where an old, grey haired man sat in a chair, reading his newspaper.
The classes ranged from Kindergarten to Sixth Class. Step was told to sit in the second row from the front as he was to be in First Class. A boy and girl in his row moved over to let him in. They didn’t look too friendly. The teacher, whose name was Mr Scott, handed him a book and a pencil and soon he was tracing over letters. The boy next to him punched him with his elbow. His pencil skidded across the book, leaving a dark, angry mark. Mr Scott was cross and the boy in his row smiled with satisfaction.
At recess the other children ignored him. One of the big boys, called Teddy, came onto the verandah with a billy of milk. He swung it around above his head and Step was amazed that the milk didn’t fall out. They lined up with their mugs as Teddy poured out the milk. Of course, Step was last and there were only a few drops left when it was his turn.
Back in the classroom he had to copy sums off the blackboard into his exercise book. He was good at adding and subtracting and took great care forming his numbers. He also watched the boy next to him for any sudden movement in his direction. Then they were writing stories. Mr Scott asked them to imagine they were a King or a Queen for a day and to write what they would do.
Step wrote that he would put all the bad mothers and fathers in gaol. All the children in orphanages would be given a hundred pounds to spend on anything they wanted. Then they would go and live with the King in his palace for ever and ever. Mr Scott thought it was a very good composition and read it out to the class. The other children didn’t clap or cheer. They just looked at him with frowns on their faces.
Lessons were over for the day. They all lined up for lunch with a tray in their hands. Cook gave each child a bowl of soup and a piece of bread. Soon they were sitting at long tables eating and talking, but no one spoke to Step. He sat at the end of the row, shunned by the others and wondered if it would always be like this. He looked up as a pretty girl with ringlets tossed her head.
“My Foster Parents are taking me home tomorrow,” she said. “I will have a bedroom all to myself with lots of toys and they are going to take me to the zoo and the beach and on holidays. Maybe even to Disneyland.”
She wasn’t talking to Step. Rather she was addressing the whole group. “And then I’ll be out of this awful place forever. Good riddance.”
Step realised that tomorrow was Saturday, the day of the Inspection. Would someone like the look of him and take him home?
First of all he had to complete his job for the afternoon. Nurse Smiley led him to the kitchen where Cook was delegating tasks to the children.
“Aaaah! Here’s the new boy. What are you like at peeling potatoes?”
This was a job his stepmother always gave him so he announced he was very good at it. Cook gave him a huge pile of potatoes and a potato peeler. He would have been happy to do it by himself but another older boy sat near him and grabbed the peeler.
“You can use this knife. I’m using the peeler!”
Step wasn’t used to peeling potatoes with a big sharp knife and soon he cut himself. Blood poured over the potatoes.
“Yuk”, cried the other children. Cook rushed over, but not before the older boy put the peeler down and moved away.
“I told you to use the potato peeler. What a silly boy, using that great big knife. Whatever were you thinking?”
She wrapped his hand in a bandage and sent him out of the kitchen. “Go and find another job. I don’t want you here.”
By now Step was feeling mightily discouraged so wandered slowly along the hallway towards the front door wondering where he should go next. To his surprise there was a commotion at the end of the hall. A small girl about his age was clinging to a woman and crying very loudly.
“I have to leave you here,” said the woman.
“Don’t go, don’t go,” cried the girl.
“I can’t look after you anymore. I have to go far away to my new job, and you are not allowed to come with me.”
“But Aunty, you are all I have left. Don’t leave me.”
Fortunately, Nurse Smiley arrived and spoke to the woman kindly but firmly.
“I’m afraid there is no room here. Our orphanage is full. We can only take sixteen children.”
Step wasn’t sure if he should speak but he felt he had to try and help somehow.
“Nurse Smiley, what about the girl with the ringlets? She said she was going to live with her Foster Parents for good and she is leaving tomorrow. Then there will be room for this girl.”
Nurse Smiley looked cross at Step’s sudden interruption but then looked at the tearful little girl and considered what she would do. “Very well”, she said to the woman. “Bring her back tomorrow and if Lottie is taken then your niece can stay.”
On a dark, wet and windy night two figures walked hand in hand, illuminated by the street lights. One was tall, with a long overcoat and a hat pulled low over his head. The other was very small, a young boy dressed in an ill-fitting jacket and long baggy shorts which reached well below his knees.
They stopped at the front of a sandstone building. A sign over the front door read, “Opera Orphanage for Unwanted Children”. The tall man put a small suitcase on the front step and knelt down stiffly beside the boy.
“Now do what I tell you. I want you to count to sixty and then knock on the big door. Remember sixty, not a second sooner.”
“Are you coming back?” asked the boy.
“Of course,” said the man. “Just as soon as my ship comes in.”
With that he turned and ran swiftly into the darkness. The boy counted carefully but stopped in frustration when he reached the thirties. Somehow, he got muddled and wasn’t sure what came next so he debated whether to start all over again. When he again reached twenty, he decided that was enough so looked up at the shiny brass knocker on the door. With his arm stretched up he still couldn’t reach it, so he looked around for something to stand on. A small rock beside the step gave him an idea. He picked it up and threw it at the door. It made a loud, resounding thwack which echoed down the empty street.
Almost immediately the door opened. A woman wearing a white uniform and a starched white hat on her head stared at him in astonishment before pulling him inside and closing the door.
“You poor wee thing!” she exclaimed. “Let’s get you warm and dry in the kitchen.”
Soon he was wrapped in a blanket and sitting by the heat of a large, black fuel stove. In his hand was a cup of hot chocolate. After eating some bread and honey he was taken to a bathroom where he enjoyed the luxury of a steaming hot bath. Warm pyjamas were waiting for him on the chair and then he was lying in a narrow bed alongside many others. He was vaguely aware of children breathing gently around him but soon sleep descended like a soft warm veil and all the drama of the day’s events was forgotten.
He woke to the sound of boys chattering. Looking around he saw eight beds in a row. The other boys were pulling up the sheets and folding their pyjamas. At the sound of a bell, they stood to attention at the end of their beds. The woman in white appeared and checked each boy and bed carefully.
“Biff, your shoelaces are undone. Tom, look at your shirt buttons. Jack, straighten your blanket. Right boys, off to breakfast.”
She turned to the new arrival. “Quickly, put on these clothes. Just this once I will make your bed because Matron wants to see you straight away.”
She led him along a corridor and down some stairs. Reaching a large green door she knocked twice and paused until she heard a voice call, “Come in”.
Inside the room was a large desk. Behind it sat a woman dressed in black. On her head was a magnificent black headdress with three pointed cones. She indicated the two chairs and commanded, “Sit”.
“You will call me Matron. This is Nurse Smiley,” she said, waving her headdress in the direction of the woman in white. And you, young man, do you have a name?”
“I..I don’t know,” he stammered. “They always called me Step.”
“What sort of a name is Step?” Matron huffed.
“When my Mummy went away my Daddy brought home a new Mummy who called me Step for so long we all forgot my real name. She didn’t want me around so Daddy brought me to this place. He said he would only leave me here until his ship comes in.”
Matron shook her head crossly before she began to talk.
“Well, we will do what we can to find your real parents but, in the meantime, we have to find you some Foster Parents. We only have room for eight boys and eight girls so now you are here we are full. Every Saturday morning you are to present yourself for the Inspection. The Foster Parents will come in and choose the most well-behaved children to take home for the weekend. If they like you then you might stay with them for much longer. Sometimes they keep children until they are grown up and ready to go out to work.”
“After breakfast you will go to the classroom where you will have lessons from 9 o’clock until 12. After lunch you will be given a job to help with the running of the orphanage. Do you have any questions?”
Step had many questions running around in his head but couldn’t think of one single thing to ask of Matron so decided just to wait and see what happened next.
Nurse Smiley took him to the breakfast room. The other children had already gone so he sat alone, eating his bowl of porridge, and wondering what lay ahead. He was glad to have a warm bed, good food and clean clothes. Nurse Smiley seemed kind. On the other hand, what would the other orphans be like? And even more scary that that, what would the Foster Parents be like? Would they choose him and if they did, would they be kind like Nurse Smiley or cruel like his Stepmother.
“You have to go to the classroom now,” said Nurse Smiley. “Come with me and meet the other children.”
A long time ago, nearly seventy years it would be, my father used to sit by my bed and tell me stories of Step and Tear. I can’t recall much about them, except that they were orphans and terrible things happened to them. Each story must have ended happily because I always went to sleep afterwards.
When my grandchildren were about four and six, I began telling them Step and Tear stories at bedtime. They sometimes made suggestions about the direction the stories should take and named the orphanage where the children lived. My youngest grandchild felt that because Step and Tear were older, he was being left out, so a new, younger character called Sad was created.
Eventually I wrote these stories down using the A to Z format to contain them. After all, it had to end eventually, although there were a few tears shed when that final chapter was completed and read to the grandchildren, now 11 and 13.
These stories are pure fiction and while set in the 1950s, they bear no resemblance to any orphanages existing at that time.
For once my A to Z is written and ready to go. As I will be cruising on the Pacific Ocean for most of April, that is just as well.
I could have written about Zhouzhuang Water City in China, near Shanghai (see the picture above) but instead chose to sum up my approach to retirement with one descriptive word.
ZEALOUS
Zealous
showing great energy or enthusiasm in pursuit of a cause or objective
Enthusiastic
having or showing intense and eager enjoyment, interest, or approval.
Adventurous
willing to take risks or to try out new methods, ideas, or experiences.
Liberated
free from social or traditional ideas, especially those which make no sense
Obsessive
thinking about something a great deal to the exclusion of all else (within reason)
Unflappable
having or showing calmness in a crisis.
Satisfied
contented and pleased with one’s lot.
I may not achieve all those objectives but I can try my best to remain ZEALOUS about life in retirement. See you all next year!
When we talked about travelling to China, friends from Aqua Jogging told us about their trip with Peregrine Adventures. We looked at the itinerary and decided it had the right mix of cities and countryside. When we rang to book we were in for a disappointment. The tour we had chosen had dropped the Yangshuo component. It was part of another tour but the two could not be combined. It was then we decided to do it on our own. Researching Trip Advisor we found that the Phoenix Pagoda Hotel at Fonglou near Yangshuo was popular because the owners were very helpful with tourist information, had bikes for the use of patrons and were situated in a quaint rural converted farmhouse. I still remember the excitement I felt speaking to Lily on the phone. I was actually talking to someone in China!
The flight to mainland China was only one hour and ten minutes from Hong Kong and was quite spectacular. As we came in to land we could see water everywhere. The curving Li River, the flooded rice paddies and the strange karst formations gave the area a distinctly other-worldly look. The sky was quite hazy as several small factories were belching smoke and small fires were common.
Our taxi driver was holding up a card saying John and Linda. He drove for about an hour along a freeway through the weird karst hills with small settlements built in the flat land between. Almost all the flat land was cultivated but we did see quite a few deserted multi-storey houses. Finally, we arrived at Phoenix Pagoda where we were welcomed by and Lily and Jerry and paid our 300 Yuan taxi fare (about $60).
Our room was at the top of the hotel, (a restored farmhouse) on the third floor. Outside was a small balcony overlooking the rural village of Fonglou and of course the karst hills. Most importantly there was a large soft bed in the middle of the room where we thankfully sank into oblivion after 42 hours without proper sleep. This was not before dinner on the rooftop terrace. Jerry brought us local beer, spicy chicken, garlic broccoli and stir-fried pumpkin. Simple but very tasty.
The hotel had won an award for best restored farmhouse. We certainly get our exercise running up the stone stairs. The bed was on a limestone foundation, the floor and sink were of the same material. Lights, chairs, tables etc were all of bamboo. The wardrobe was a gnarled tree trunk attached to the wall!
The Phoenix Pagoda Hotel
Our first day was warm and hazy. After breakfast (freshly squeezed orange juice, muesli and eggs) we checked out the bikes and headed off to Moon Hill. The peace of our small village was left behind as we reached the highway. Fortunately, there were clearly marked cycle lanes although motor scooters used them too. Inside the entrance to Moon Hill was an area to leave our bikes, although we padlocked them for safety.
John riding to Moon Hill
The climb up the 800 steps was good training for what lay ahead in Yunnan and the Great Wall. At the top we gazed around the area at the rivers, towns and karsts and talked to Australians and Spanish tourists about their experiences.
There was a restaurant near the entrance to the Moon Hill Park. It was rapidly filling when we arrived, so we ordered drinks and pork with vegetables. As I drank my iced tea John said, “Do you realise there is ice in that?” This was my second slip up as I unthinkingly cleaned my teeth with the local water on the first day. I hoped those “Travel Bug” tablets would work! (they didn’t)
We enjoyed people-watching from our table. The manager, a small wiry woman with a 12-month old baby strapped to her back, was busy taking and giving orders, scrubbing down seats and tables, pouring hot water and refilling vacuum flasks. I have never seen such a human dynamo. She only stopped once for someone to retie her baby sling. The child woke up but seemed content to watch while her energetic mother raced around.
The human dynamo
Terrifying Taxi Ride to Light Show
We arranged with Lily for a taxi to take us to the Impression Liu Sanjie Light Show. I thought it would be a good idea to go in early and eat at a vegetarian restaurant recommended by Jerry. We were warned the traffic would be horrific but did not realise our intrepid driver would charge full speed down the wrong side of the road. John and I kept saying, “she isn’t going there!” but she did. On one fearful occasion we were heading straight for a bus when our driver swung off the road, through a car park and back into the traffic again. She dropped us off at a hotel called The Green Lotus and agreed to pick us up at 6.40pm.
As we walked towards West Street in the rain we realised we weren’t going to have time to order, eat and be back in time so searched for somewhere to eat close by. We sat down, said we were in a hurry and ordered some dumplings. Twenty minutes later they had not arrived so we had to leave. Our taxi was not waiting at The Green Lotus but after a few minutes a man arrived with a mobile phone. Lily from Phoenix Pagoda was at the other end trying to explain that he was the taxi driver’s husband and he would take us to the Light Show. The traffic was too bad for her to get to us. We walked in the rain for about 2 kilometres until we reached the theatre. Here we parted from our “friend” who for some reason sounded very angry when he talked on the phone to Lily.
We then had to follow a man holding a sign which read “100”. He gave us tickets and waved us on. Just at the entrance a stall was selling snacks. As we hadn’t eaten we bought nuts and a Sprite. The woman suggested popcorn so John said “yes”. Five stressful minutes later it was still popping in the microwave. Thousands of people swept past and the music began. It was now dark and we had no idea where to sit. Fortunately, all the seats were allocated and women with torches found us our seats.
The Impressions Light Show is directed by moviemaker Zhang Yimou, the man who also directed the opening ceremony at the Beijing Olympics in 2008 and several acclaimed films such as Hero. Six hundred performers, including local fishermen, take to the Li River each night with 12 illuminated surrounding karst peaks serving as a backdrop.
It was very impressive, like an Olympic Games opening ceremony on water with the precision only the Chinese are capable of. We had good seats in B section and marvelled at how so many people could be organised every night (twice tonight as there were two performances) in boats, on land and on water.
Getting out was not so bad. Towards the end of the performance people started standing up and moving towards the entrance. John wanted to get out before the crowd so I reluctantly followed. Our driver was waiting at the designated spot and again we walked about a kilometre to the taxi. The traffic wasn’t as bad this end of town and we were soon home.
Terrifying Tuk-Tuk Ride
The hotel was full of families and children were running up and down the stone stairs, singing and talking loudly. Who would have guessed that we had arrived in Tomb-Sweeping weekend where people from all over the country return to the town their ancestors are buried.
During Qingming, Chinese families visit the tombs of their ancestors to clean the gravesites and make ritual offerings to their ancestors. Offerings would typically include traditional food dishes and the burning of joss sticks and joss paper. The holiday recognizes the traditional reverence of one’s ancestors in Chinese culture. Wikipedia
We ate in that night, but not on the rooftop terrace because of the rain. We pre-ordered our dinner so that when we arrived at 6.30 it was served immediately. The specialty of the area was its beer battered fresh-water fish but ours was baked with some sort of sauce on it. It was not the best fish I had eaten but Jerry was so enthusiastic about it I felt like Mr Bean and wanted to hide some in my bag or the sugar bowl just to please him. The vegetable dishes were great – grilled capsicum and eggplant with bits of pork. We drank the local beer which is quite yeasty and not bitter.
In the morning we decided to go into Yangshuo by taxi. We were told the traffic was still chaotic but went anyway. The driver dropped us near West St and we enjoyed looking in the shops and the market.
We found an interesting lunch venue. On offer, along with frogs and snails was “beef with four bacteria”. I definitely gave that one a miss. My mushrooms and lamb love hearts had me wondering but I ate it anyway. What part of a lamb is its love heart?
After lunch we were walking through a market when suddenly all the stalls were lifted off the ground and people began running in all directions. Some men in uniform swaggered past. They were not police as we thought but some sort of equivalent to traffic wardens. They certainly frightened the locals.
Getting a taxi home was harder than we imagined. We were offered a beaten up old tuk-tuk and warily accepted, showing the driver our hotel card. We then had a ride even more terrifying than last night’s taxi ride. It was almost gridlocked traffic from town to the turnoff to Fonglou but our driver not only drove along the wrong side of the road to the annoyance of oncoming buses but he careered down the bike lane forcing cyclists and walkers out of the way. A few times I thought we would land in the ditch beside the road.
Of course there were no seatbelts and the only airbags were the two of us! We cheered as we pulled up outside our hotel and paid our hefty fee of 60 yuan ($12).
River Rafting Trip on Yulang River
We had another misty day. I would have liked to see the karsts against a blue sky but at least it was not raining. Lily arranged our river rafting trip on the Yulang River. We were picked up by taxi and driven to a place upriver called Yima where the rafting began. Our raft was made from bamboo and had a double seat tied on it with two flimsy life jackets attached. I stepped on board first and thought it was going to sink when John climbed on too. Our cheerful boatman with a long bamboo pole steered us downstream. We went over a number of weirs where we had to put our feet up to avoid being drenched.
Floating on flimsy rafts
All the time the tall karst rocks towered around us on each side with many strange formations. At the entrance we were offered a flowered headband, plastic bags for the feet and a water pistol. We declined all three but saw other people putting them all to good use.
It was about half an hour’s walk back to the hotel from the bridge along the edge of the same road we had driven in the tuk-tuk. The traffic was not nearly as bad today. Beside the road was a Banyan Tree which was in a large park filled with Chinese tourists. Many of them had dressed up in traditional costumes and were parading around and posing for photographs.
Dressing up for Tomb-Sweeping week
John sat on a buffalo for a photograph but turned down the offer to pose with brightly dressed monkeys. They were trained to sit holding little batons over their shoulders and if someone tried to take a photo without paying they were ordered to turn their backs. I felt so sorry for them.
Birthday Cake Before Dinner
We ate lunch on the rooftop terrace of the hotel followed by another bike ride where we managed to avoid the rain. Jerry announced tonight’s dinner was on the house as it was for our birthdays. We ordered beer and peanuts, to be followed by pizza and finally fresh fruit and icecream. We were the only people dining in tonight but hardly had we started on the peanuts when the pizza arrived. We were really enjoying the pizza when in trooped Jerry, Lily, the cook and the security guard with a birthday cake. They stood around the table and sang happy birthday. Then they sat down with us and started eating the cake, presenting us with ours first. I wasn’t sure whether to eat the pizza or the cake but shortly they left to go and have their own meal. We happily returned to the pizza.
Happy birthday to us all
That was our last day in Yangshuo. We were flying to Kunming the following day to join our Peregrine Adventures tour group. We were so glad we hadn’t missed out on this picturesque part of China and especially the genuine concern and care from our hosts, Lily and Jerry.
We can’t talk about Xi’an without mentioning the Terracotta Warriors. It was Anzac Day 2014 but there was no celebration of it in Xi’an. We were shivering in eight degrees Celsius and looking glumly at the rain falling.Wearing our warmest clothes we were not too worried because we knew the warriors were under cover. What we didn’t know is that there were three pits to visit plus the museum so there was a fair bit of outdoor walking to do. The first pit was the largest and we were keen to get a good view of the infantrymen in their rows. So were hundreds of others so it was the quick and the dead to get a space beside the railing.
It was interesting to see the site of the well where three men were digging when they found the first warrior. It was decided to leave that warrior in a broken condition because that is how he was found.
It was here we were conned well and truly. We thought we were looking at the man who found the first pottery fragments in March 1974. He was there, signing books so I was inspired to buy one. I found out later he was a bit like Santa Claus, filling in for the original.
The Terracotta Army is 2,200 years old and is 1.5 kilometres from Emperor Qin’s mausoleum. The emperor was worried about dying and was searching for the secret to immortality. Just in case he didn’t find it he prepared for the afterlife on a massive scale and all his concubines, wives and workmen went with him when he died at the age of 49. It is thought he was taking Mercury to prolong his life but alas it had the opposite effect.
Great variety in the soldiers Pit Number 2
Pit 3 is the smallest pit, known as the command centre and was discovered in 1976. We then moved on to pit 2 where there were some close-up views of various soldiers and officers. We headed across to the museum where I especially liked the bronze chariots pulled by four horses, the second of which looked like a 2000-year-old caravan.
Xing Xing offered us a warm meal in a farmhouse or a Subway. John and I opted for the hot meal which was home cooked style and very tasty and fresh. Mr Yung lived on a farm which became part of the Warriors Museum Complex, so his old house was knocked down and he was given a new one. Fortunately, it wasn’t in an apartment block. He now finds cooking meals more lucrative than farming.
At 5.15pm we met for a walk to the bell tower, the drum tower and the Muslim Quarter. The last of these was fascinating with a huge variety of food being cooked on the footpaths outside the shops. We tried a date filled persimmon cake. Delicious!
That evening we hopped on a local bus to take us the two stops to the Shaanxi Grand Opera House. Because we had quite a filling lunch John and I opted to share the 16 courses of dumplings on offer before the show. They were delicious and accompanied by rice wine, beer and tea. The only problem was Ian in our group caught his finger on a chair and sliced the top off it. His wife had her first aid kit but he was in pain and will have to watch out for infection. You just don’t need that to happen on a holiday.
Xing Xing had only been able to get us C grade seats but they were fine. The show was entertaining although obviously geared to the tourist market. There was a mixture of orchestra and dancing supposedly from the Tang Dynasty but there were a few modern instruments thrown in, probably for the better as many Chinese instruments are strident and hard on western ears. The percussion was great but the dance of the masked warriors designed to expel epidemics and ghosts was my favourite.
We hoped to have a good sleep that night as the next night we would spend twelve hours on a sleeper train with two other (as yet unknown) people on the way to Beijing.
One of the things we really wanted to do before we left was ride around the City Wall of Xi’an on bikes. The wall is twelve metres tall, twelve to fourteen metres wide at the top and fifteen to eighteen metres thick at the bottom. It covers 13.7 kilometres in length with a deep moat surrounding it.
Soldier in golden armour patrolling the wall
We had brought our helmets with us, packed with underwear. The bikes had no gears but good shock absorbers for the bumpy paving. We were having a great time when without warning John crossed in front of me and I hit his back wheel. Next minute I was sprawled across the pavement but fortunately had only minor injuries. We are still debating whose fault it was. The same thing happened to another couple so it was easy to do.
Pride before fall
The afternoon was spent walking around Xi’an and getting lost. We finally bought a map and found we had been looking in entirely the wrong area for the Muslim Quarter.
Just before six we stocked up on noodle boxes, red wine (French), bananas, longans, chips and peanut bars before heading off to the train station in a local bus, complete with luggage. At 7.30pm we boarded our train and found we were bunking with Helen and Ian from Sydney. We were rather perplexed as to how we could fit four adults and four big suitcases in such a little space. In the end we had to put two bags under the bottom bunks and some things at the end of the beds.
Information from the Travel China Guide
I was in a top bunk and was quite comfortable. It felt a bit like a school camp with everyone visiting everyone else to see what their cabin was like, card games happening and lots of laughter. We added hot water to our noodles from the supplied kettles and enjoyed the wine and snacks. Wearing our slippers we visited one of three sinks to clean our teeth. The toilet was western style to everyone’s relief.
Our very unhealthy meal on the train to Beijing
The Travel China Guide says this about soft sleepers.
Soft Sleeper, as the name suggests, is softer than hard sleeper. But more importantly, the compartment is more spacious with only four berths inside, two upper and two lower; the berth is wider and longer, about 30 inches (75cm) and 75 inches (190cm) respectively; the compartment has a door, which separates it from the aisle and provides a quiet and private room for the passengers inside.
Soft sleeper ticket price is about 1.5 times of that of hard sleeper, and a lower berth costs more than an upper berth.
The group had varied opinions on the soft sleeper ride. Some didn’t sleep a wink while others found the rocking of the train lulled them to sleep. The train rattled a lot and felt like it had a flat tyre but it was certainly preferable to the eleven hours in the air it took us to fly to China. A loud musical wakeup call started at 6.30am and at 7 o’clock we pulled into Beijing Station.
What!!!! This could not be Beijing. The sun was shining, the sky was blue with only a slight haze above the horizon. Where was the choking pollution? We were truly fortunate to see Beijing at its best.
As you may recall, if you have read the beginning of this A to Z, the plan upon retiring was to regain fitness and good health. That included weight loss so when a friend recommended Weight Watchers I found a local group and turned up to my first meeting.
The group leader was very informative and gave me lots of booklets to get me started. In those days we paid in cash for each visit. There was a little book for recording weight each week and suggestions for meal plans plus another book with the points value of most foods you might eat. For an extra cost there were books to help with eating out, eating fast food and a more extensive food list. I was given the total number of points I could eat in one day and off I went.
At first it seemed impossible to record everything faithfully but I was nothing if not determined and each week I was pleased to see the figures going down. I know family and friends thought I was being fanatical as I refused to deviate from my eating plan even when visiting or eating out. Reaching my goal weight I was able to relax a little but the conditioning had worked. Akin to being under hypnosis, I now avoided anything fried or creamy or in any way weight inducing.
I had been going to Weight Watchers about a year when our group leader asked if I was interested in training to be a Weight Watchers leader. I agreed, thinking that having been a teacher, it would not be all that different. It involved several weekends of study with a senior leader going through the subject matter, discussing and role playing possible scenarios, looking at the history of the organisation and understanding the scientific theory behind the eating plans. I would be supported with factual notes each week, suggestions to make group meetings interesting and a room full of products to sell.
I had my phone interview for WW at 11.00am and was told at any time I could pull out. I kept thinking “do I want to lose my freedom?” Then I thought “I need a new challenge” so I went ahead with the interview. The material is arriving shortly and I will go into training thereafter.
Before my first meeting I accompanied other leaders to their meetings and usually took over part of the proceedings. The first half hour was spent weighing each person and recording their statistics on their cards and in their booklet.
With great relief I can now say I have completed a session of weighing. I was very pleased that a person called L was there to show me what to do. I am going back tomorrow. I probably won’t have any help and there will be a lot more people there so hopefully I can put into practice what I learnt today.
Sometimes people bought cooking books or boxes of snacks and this was usually paid for in cash or with a credit card using a cumbersome imprinter machine which pressed the raised card number onto a multi-copy, carbon slip. How I hated doing that. Teaching had not prepared me for retail.
I did two credit card transactions and most importantly remembered to write on the back of all the stickers to double check who paid what. Putting everything away took ages but at about 1.00pm we finally got outside.
I wondered if I would still be able to go away on holidays and had my mind put at rest.
I spoke to A afterwards about some aspects of the job and it seems that it is possible to take some time off for a holiday for as long as you like as other leaders are happy to take your meetings and earn a bit of extra money.
My first meeting was fortunately with the assistance of my trainer B. Even so I slept fitfully the night before, waking up at one stage dreaming I had left my palm cards at home.
I headed out to D at 9.15am and started unloading the car, talked to the woman at the desk who gave a quick rundown on safety and where to go for evacuation. As a result we had to leave all the doorways out of the room clear of furniture. B arrived soon afterwards and finally came M, the recorder. It was a frantic rush, even with three of us. I managed to break the storage cupboard lock trying to find a Weight Watcher’s Unlimited form (which I didn’t find). There were three new members, all over 100kg. Two of them said their main aim is to get to double figures. Everything went well except I took the money to the bank without the deposit slip. They wrote their own so that problem was solved.
I spent the afternoon checking the WW paperwork and ringing B for advice. I made the “Waterfall” phonecall which was recorded at the other end and consisted of financial and numerical details of the meeting.
Preparing motivational meetings was something that I enjoyed . One suggestion was to show the group a 5 kilogram piece of fat to indicate how much weight they had lost when they reached that milestone. Off I went to the butcher with my unusual request. It was difficult keeping it in pristine condition despite an esky and ice so by the end of the week the last group missed out.
5kg of fat
I learnt a lot as I was preparing my presentations.
I spent the afternoon preparing for WW tomorrow. The topic is plateaus. I have a couple of aids I made on the computer. One is a definition of metabolism – the fire within, written on top of a raging fire. The other is a description of the weight loss cycle and how body first loses lycopone when less food is eaten, and this contains water so a lot of water is lost at first. The lycopone loss is replaced by fat loss and fat has less water in it than lycopone so the weight loss slows down. OK – then we have to look at ways to get the weight loss started again.
Oils aint oils! That was what today’s meeting was about so I took a box of different oils to the meeting. We started with a quiz and then went on to discuss how to eliminate trans fats from our diet in groups. At that stage 3 people got up and left – always a bit off-putting but we had 28 people through and sold over $200 worth of products. We couldn’t get the sales to add up correctly so I had to check all my stock at home to get it right.
Another time we had fun estimating how much wine equals 100 ml and 150 ml. People were amazed at how little wine made up one standard drink.
After each meeting the money had to be banked. It consisted mainly of cash and a few credit card slips.
I left half an hour early for WW and walked up the street to the bank carrying the money. The bank had gone and was now a variety store so I asked at the Commonwealth and they said it was in the Stockland Centre but I only had 3 minutes until closing. I streaked down to Stockland but they were just closing the door when I got there and would not accept my money even though I just wanted to put it down the chute.
Sometimes we just couldn’t accommodate all the different types of cards on our primitive machine.
The only problem was a woman who wanted to pay with a Cirrus card but we told the woman we couldn’t accept it, only Visa and Amex. She volunteered to go to an ATM but decided against buying the Choc Crisps, maybe because she was letting us know she wasn’t happy.
The dreaded supervisor would come to inspect a meeting to make sure everything was running smoothly.
I went to the WW meeting with a little bit of trepidation as T was coming to supervise. I sent a text to M but she didn’t open it so she didn’t know until she got there. Her daughter was with her which added to her stress levels although the child was very helpful and well behaved. Everything went well and T gave some useful advice which I tried to apply to the evening meeting. At night I accidentally went overtime by ten minutes. Finally someone said they had to go home. I worried about a mother and daughter who didn’t look very motivated but I did have a lot of new enrolments (7) which kept us very busy.
All the time the pressure was on to keep the sales of WW products high and the numbers of new enrolments increasing. Keeping track of sales and new memberships was tricky.
I was looking forward to WW today with all the new products. There were 4 new people and $256 worth of sales. After the meeting S had a problem with balancing the books so we spent about 3/4 hours working it out. Then we had to look at the problem of last week having too much. We finally found someone who joined WWU (Weight Watchers Unlimited) but it hadn’t been recorded. I rang the woman and she is bringing in the orange tear off slip next week. I will send the money in then.
Sometimes there was some positive reinforcement which made it all worthwhile.
Today is Australia Day. We had a few flags up at Weight Watchers. 27 people passed through, although only 12 stayed for the meeting. One woman said she was inspired by last week’s meeting and lost 2kg. She had moved from another meeting but found our’s much more to her liking. Another was excited about going swimming for the first time in years after our talk about exercise last week.
The two meetings went well except I got to D and found I had left the booklets at home. I rang John who brought them out and he didn’t even grumble. The group enjoyed “Dem Bones” as an introduction. In the evening a new member was so pleased about the meeting she couldn’t stop saying “Thank you.”
The weather didn’t always co-operate but people still turned up regardless.
What a day!!! M rang in the morning to say she was flooded in and couldn’t make it to the meeting. I assumed very few others would as well but 17 turned up!!! Fortunately I arrived early to deliver stock and had the room just about set up when people arrived. However, I was faced with people buying huge quantities of food, credit card transactions, people buying ten week packages, new members. A woman offered to do the weighing but I forgot to give her the cards to write down the weights and she put the other cards away so I had to guess the weight loss. To make matters worse I had new members and had to be out of the room by 12.00. Why does it all happen at once? I had to literally throw everything on the trolley and sort it out in the storeroom. I spent most of the afternoon doing the paperwork and was $9 out which wasn’t too bad. Probably it was stock sold which I hadn’t recorded or maybe magazines.
Sometimes people got tired of waiting and were very vocal about it.
A woman complained about waiting, saying she had a houseful of guests at home. I asked the woman in the front of the line if she minded letting her in but she had a houseful of guests too. The penny dropped that she wanted two to work on the weighing so I did a few but had to go and start the meeting.
Numbers fluctuated from too many to not enough.
The C meeting had only one person stay which was a bit embarrassing for both of us. I showed her some of the exercise video to use up the last ten minutes as she seemed determined to stay the full hour. She wanted to avoid the grandchild at home!
Although most people were lovely a very few were critical.
One had joined up online to WWU so I sent her to M who weighed her and sent her back to me to fill in the paperwork. I was a bit confused about recent changes in membership rules. She was quite arrogant, saying that I didn’t inspire confidence. For some reason that rankled and I have not been able to get it out of my mind.
There were some interesting personalities at some of my meetings.
This morning there were no new people at WW but a woman from C’s class came. I had been warned about her – she has some issues, and is very talkative. It was difficult to keep her quiet in the meeting and then she eagerly asked questions afterwards.
Weight Watchers went well. There were 24 people with one new member. My lady with the issues almost became teary but I managed to cheer her up before the floodgates burst. She stayed around after the meeting, even looking in the windows as we were packing up.
Sometimes I had to fill in for someone who was away. This could be quite daunting in an unfamiliar environment.
I arrived at the Salvation Army hall about 20 minutes early. I hung around until 5.15 when finally someone turned up. This was not the person with the keys but they managed to let me in. We were however all set up by 6.00 and were then busy recording and weighing. I weighed people too and was so busy I didn’t realise there was a new person waiting to join. The recorder said she told me but I didn’t hear her. It was noisy in there. The meeting went OK although I could do it better tomorrow. One woman queried me on using exercise points for extra food as she said that was not what their usual leader said. I’m not sure now how well I answered that but I should have said if that’s the way her leader wants it, its fine by me.
My husband received some bad news. He was diagnosed with a serious condition requiring surgery. Immediately everything else became unimportant. I felt I couldn’t continue with WW which was consuming a lot of my time.
I talked to J from WW and told her I was thinking of resigning. She supported me and my last meeting will be 15th November, four day before John goes into hospital. I sent my resignation letter to T so it is done.
Although I found being a WW Leader was stressful, time consuming and underpaid, I still enjoyed it. For the first time I was teaching adults, not children. They were there of their own free will and left if they wanted to. I especially enjoyed the meetings at AP. The people there were so responsive. I devised a competition where people wrote their names on a nametag to be drawn out of a hat at the end of four weeks (my last day). I planned to give out a cookbook or something similar.
Saturday, 15th November, 2008
The last WW meeting is over. Before I left home I made up three presents, two for S and K with the Maggie Beer sauce in a Xmas bag. I also wrote a note of appreciation to both of them. The gift for the meeting was four little cook books in a white carry bag. The meeting went well with everyone talking happily. I told my news at the end and was surprised at how emotional they were. P, who never speaks, nominated J to get up and make a speech of appreciation which she did very well. She has no inhibitions so she waxed lyrical about how much I had inspired the group. I must admit there were tears in my eyes which I did not expect. I left the keys with K, dropped S off at her home but felt sad rather than liberated as I drove home.
This morning after aqua jogging and breakfast John helped me carry all the stock down to the Prado to return it. I hope that is the last of it and I never have to balance another product sheet. On the way home I posted the last WW letter with great ceremony at FM Post Office and banked the money in Wollongong.
It was a great relief to be able to concentrate on one thing only, helping my husband recover after his operation. That was fifteen years ago and he has had no recurrence of his condition. Apart from some voluntary work here and there I have not been in the workforce since.
As for Weight Watchers (now WW) I used to go to meetings now and again just to keep on track. Of course face to face meetings stopped during Covid so I joined online to access recipes and to track my points and weight. I find this is not as effective as the group meetings as I lack the motivation that I had in those early years. I love food but its quality and usefulness as fuel for my body is always at the back of my mind, thanks to my conditioning at WW.
Of all the places I have visited the Cinque Terre stands out for its multiple attractions. Five villages, all exquisitely beautiful and yet different. Three ways of seeing the villages without a car: walking, catching a train, catching a ferry. Plenty of places to eat delicious locally produced food. In May, 2011 it wasn’t too crowded. This was before massive floods in October of that year washed away many houses in Vernazza. Three residents were killed and the town was buried under four metres of mud and debris. There was over one hundred million euro worth of damage. Below are extracts from the diary I kept on the five days we spent in this beautiful area.
We are in the train to Torino following the coast up as far as La Spezia. It is 1.15pm and we were one and a half hours late leaving Roma as the train didn’t arrive on time. There are people in all the seats so its rather squeezy. We also have a rabbit in the compartment and a dog in the corridor. The scenery is interesting with coastal views and productive farmland. One of our stops was Civitavecchia where we will travel in a week’s time to board the ship. The train gets close to the water’s edge in some places and then veers inland again.
I’m going to read my information on things to do in Cinque Terre. We still have about one and a half hours to go and of course no internet. John has reported that the toilet is blocked so I plan to hang on until I get to the destination.
We arrived eventually after some confusion at La Spezia. There was no sign to say where to catch the train and people were wandering around looking confused. Eventually we were on what we hoped was the right train and after waiting for a while it eventually moved. The eight-minute trip, mainly through tunnels, stopped at Riomaggiore to let us off. We walked up a steep hill for 300 metres and rang the doorbell but no-one appeared. A passing woman stopped to help and rang someone on her mobile. Then Emiliano turned up with two other guests who must have arrived when we did. He showed us to our room which is small but pleasantly airy with blue and white curtains and white walls. The bathroom is new looking and clean although it had one of those annoying semicircular showers where the door is hard to shut. There is a brand-new TV which should keep John happy. The balcony looks across at the village and the grape vine covered hillside but at one end it gets larger and you can see the sea.
The view from our balcony
We had had lunch on the train but decided to buy some food and wine for happy hour. Emiliano suggested we walk along the Via dell’Amore to Manarola and have dinner at one of three restaurants he recommended. After a shower and a drink on the balcony we walked along the Via dell’Amore, translated to “The Way of Love.” which follows the edge of the ocean, through tunnels, finally emerging at Manarola.
The Via dell’Amore
Then it was a steep climb up a series of steps and roads to Billy’s, a restaurant recommended by both Emiliano and Trip Adviser. We had to wait twenty minutes to get a table but they gave us some Prosecco to keep us going and we sat on the steps looking out to sea. Our table was beside the kitchen on the outside, with a view of the setting sun over the ocean. The food was good. I had mussels in garlic and tomato followed by a grilled fish and John had butterflied raw anchovies soaked in lemon juice followed by stuffed mussels. We shared two half bottles of white and red and were given complimentary glasses of lemoncino and a purplish liqueur that tasted like cough medicine. It must have had some kick because I walked home, fell into bed and was asleep within minutes.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
I felt below par today. I don’t know if it was jet lag, the limoncino or what but I felt decidedly queasy as we walked to the harbour this morning. We had a latte and John had a croissant but, in the end, decided to have an easy day and do the boat trip tomorrow.
We bought some tasty food to keep us going and had lunch on our balcony overlooking the town and the sea. We had fresh bread, delicious tomatoes, olives, cheese, salad mix and the remains of some Balsamic vinegar and olive oil. No wine but healthy juice with orange, carrot and apple. I wrote six postcards. The PO was closed when we walked past so will have to try and post them tomorrow.
We booked dinner at La Laterna for 8 but decided to have the first course at home on the balcony. Ricotta cheese, olives, tomatoes, bread dipped in olive oil and balsamic vinegar and the local dry white wine. What a way to start the evening! At La Laterna we had a main each and a glass of house red. I had spaghetti with seafood in foil and John had a fried fritto misto. We shared a tiramasu.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
First day of winter at home and here didn’t look much better. It was cloudy and windy and rained through the night. We wondered if the ferries would still be running. I felt much better than yesterday and think I am finally recovering from jet lag. We had breakfast in the room before heading off down to the jetty. At nine o’clock the ticket office was still shut but it opened just before the ferry arrived. I bought two E20 all day tickets even though the ticket seller gloomily forecast the ferries might not run because of the swell. We saw what she meant as the ferry came in. The landing spot was just a piece of rock and people had to run along a gangplank over the bow that swung around in the waves.
The boat set off in the swell and we filmed and photographed the scenic villages under a cloudy sky. First we passed Manarola, the most spectacular from the sea I think.
Manarola
The next town is Corniglia which has no jetty and is perched on a hilltop.
Corniglia
Vernazza was next but our ferry went straight to Monterosso al Mare. Here we were able to get off fairly easily as it was a large jetty. The town seems much bigger than Riomaggiore and has an interesting medieval centre. We stopped for capucchino and cake in a bar which was very busy. We were astonished at pictures on the wall of the bar of huge waves roaring up Monterosso’s main street.
Monterosso al Mare
As we passed a Post Office I thought I would go in and buy some stamps for the post cards. The man behind the counter waved me away and said “Go to the shop at the back” or so I thought. I went outside and looked around but could see no shop at the back. I went in and this time he said, “Go to the tobacco shop”. We walked down the road and into the tobacco shop but they said they don’t sell stamps anymore and to go to the Post Office. One more try at the PO and I were sent angrily away, I suppose because there was a huge queue waiting and only one man serving. I don’t know when I’ll be able to send those post cards.
At 11.30 we caught a ferry to Vernazza. It was smaller than Riomaggiore and seemed more touristy if that is possible. We only had 40 minutes there but wandered around the streets. It has a stream running through the middle of the town. Small bridges cross the river from the road to the houses. There were lots of people waiting for the train. Maybe they were tired after doing the first 90 minute walk from Monterosso.
Vernazza
The next ferry at 12.20pm was supposed to stop at Manarola but they must have decided it was too rough and kept on going. It did stop at Riomaggiore but we stayed on because we were going to Portovenere. We kept saying we could see a patch of blue or the sky was getting lighter and I think that was actually the case. There were a few clusters of houses on impossibly steep hillsides but from Riomaggiore to Portovenere was mainly unpopulated. As we approached Portovenere we saw a pointed rock with a cross on it, a massive castle on the left hand side of the entrance to the harbour and a church on top of a rock, also at the entrance. Once inside the heads it was calm and peaceful so getting ashore was no chore this time. We walked off the ship on the side, not over the bow.
Portovenere was such a pretty town with its castle and row of pastel houses along the waterfront. We spotted Tri Torri right away at the back of a square near the marina. John was hungry so we headed there first. The ferry captain told us the 3.00pm ferry would be the last one as the last two were cancelled. The restaurant was lovely. It was all beige and white with a view of the water and the castle. We both ordered a E25 main course of mixed grilled seafood plus a salad and two small carafes of house white and red plus a bottle of water. The food was delicious. We had scampi, prawns (huge), calamari (tender, grilled on charcoal) and fish. The waiter cleaned up the fish for us, removing bones and fins and opening it up to make it easier to eat.
Portovenere
We had time to buy a gelato each and eat it before our ferry came in. The trip home was rough but the sun had come out and everything looked bright and clean. I filmed the arrival of our boat at the landing spot in Riomaggiore and people getting off and on. It was quite scary at times as the boat swung around.
We bought some food for dinner, bread, tomatoes, cheese, salad, onion, prosciutto and a cake. John made coffee when we got back to our room and now we are resting on the bed with the windows open, the cool breeze blowing in and the sound of birds and children’s voices coming from outside.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
We have completed all we could do of the Cinque Terre walks as the track from Corniglia to Manarola is closed. When we arrived at the station this morning we saw that we had a 40 minute wait for a train so we purchased our train/walk pass and started the walk to Manarola. Once there we had cappucchinos and waited for the train. Funnily enough the train we would have caught at Riomaggiore went straight past but there was another one soon after. Today is a public holiday so there were plenty of people out and about. We took the train all the way to Monterosso al Mare and felt as if we were in a different town to yesterday. The sun was shining, the umbrellas were up and people sunbaked or swam in the sea. What confused us most was where the train station is situated is in a part of town we hadn’t seen yesterday when we got off the boat. It was very impressive and had a lovely resort feel about it. I was tempted to pay for a little change room and sunbed on the beach with its own umbrella. The umbrellas all looked brand new for the new season.
After buying a gelato we started the walk. It was only three kilometers but took an hour and a half. There were a lot of steep steps going up out of the town and the sun was shining hotly. We were very pleased to reach Vernazza and sat down in a pleasant little café called Trattoria del Sandro. I had vegetable pie, a local specialty while John had octopus and potato salad. He said it was very tender. We had a can of lemon squash and a salad. It came to E35.50 so John says no eating out tonight.
Vernazza
We were amazed at the throngs of people flowing through the village, from trains, ferries and walking tracks.
We headed off again on the Vernazza to Corniglia track. This was supposed to be longer at 4 kilometres but the time was the same – one and a half hours. It started to rain at one stage but was a welcome relief from the heat. We sheltered under a tree until the big drops stopped. Corniglia had cars, motorbikes and buses parked in a square when we arrived. The square led to a narrow street where we bought a lemon gelato with honey drizzled over it. The narrow street wound its way to another square where a number of cafes had large umbrellas covering most of the area. At the back was an ancient church with a paved area beside it where children played a noisy soccer game. The road continued to a look out over the sea where telescopes could be used to view the other villages in the distance. This wasn’t the way to the train station so we walked back all the way to the square with cars and bikes and continued to a set of 378 steps which wound all the way down to the train station. We were glad we were going downhill and that this was almost the end of the journey. We had a 20 minute wait for our train, eating our rather squashed nectarine, our juice and a mandarin. We chatted to two Americans from New Jersey until the train arrived. Back at Riomaggiore we walked up our 300 metre hill and decided it wasn’t so bad. We have both had showers and are resting our extremely weary bones. Our clothes were saturated with sweat so we washed them and hung them out. A heavy downpour of rain has just wet them all again but no matter as they weren’t dry anyway.
I will have to take this laptop down to the main street to send my emails when we go to get some dinner. I think we’ll take the long road past the church as the steep way (down the steps) would be too slippery.
Later: I couldn’t get the internet to work tonight so will have to send it in Roma. Tonight we ate at Le Grotto. Our main course was spaghetti with fresh anchovies and herbs (delicious). For dessert we had strawberries, something like homemade icecream and cranberry sauce (with a bit of chocolate). A bottle of red and some sparkling aqua and the bill E50 with tip. On the way back we passed a brass band warming up outside a church (or was it an oratory?) We didn’t stop to hear them play but as we lay in bed later we could faintly hear it. People talked loudly until late in the night and as our room was right beside the footpath it felt like they were in the room with us.
Our apartment in Riomaggiore
Friday, June 3, 2010
We are on the train to Roma so this is a good time to write. I have just started a spreadsheet of expenditure so I can keep track of the cost of this holiday.
We were awake early and by the time the 7.00am bell started pealing we had packed and eaten our remaining yoghurt and fruit for breakfast. We said goodbye to La Baia del Rio, leaving the key on the table. After checking our train times and remembering this time to date stamp our tickets from the yellow machine we had coffee at the little shop near the station. The train left Riomaggiore at 8.37am which would get us to La Spezia early but we intended to buy some lunch for the journey. All went according to plan and we arrived at La Spezia with our next train departing at 10.06 am. This gave us time to walk down to the main square, check out a market and buy some rolls with ham and salad. We also bought some little cakes for dessert. Back to Platform 3 and we had a 20 minute wait for the train. We are now stationary at Pisa Station but can’t see any Leaning Tower from here. I’d be frustrated if I hadn’t seen it before.
Later: We arrived in Roma and carried our backpacks to the Welrome Hotel where we were taken to our new room by Mary. It is called Colosseo and is larger than the Trevi and has a small balcony at the back on which we hung some clothes to dry.
When we booked our trip to Sabah, I knew that there had been a Prisoner of War camp in Sandakan and had heard of the Death Marches but knew very little more. What we learnt on our visit about the enormity of the crimes committed by human beings on fellow humans was hard to comprehend.
Since then my husband has read The Story of Billy Young by Anthony Hill and Sandakan: A Conspiracy of Silence by Lynette Ramsay Silver. I have not attempted either as the thought of revisiting that period of history is just too confronting.
However today is ANZAC Day when we remember those who didn’t make it back home so I thought it was a good opportunity to bite the bullet and try to answer a few questions. Why were the guards so brutal? Were there any survivors? How did so many die? I’m not attempting to read Silver’s outstanding book in one day so am using the ANZAC Portal from the Department of Veteran’s Affairs, specifically Sandakan 1942-45 as my main source.
In 1945 Borneo was still occupied by the Japanese, and at the end of the Pacific war in August, Australian units arrived in the Sandakan area to accept the surrender of the Japanese garrison. Just 16 kilometres out of Sandakan, in a north-westerly direction, was the Sandakan POW Camp. Here, between 1942 and 1945, the Japanese had at different times held over 2700 Australian and British prisoners. The POWs were brought from Singapore to Borneo to construct a military airfield close to the camp. By 15 August 1945, however, there were no POWs left at Sandakan Camp.
So what had happened to 2700 men? For the next two years, between 1945 and 1947 the area from Sandakan to Ranau, 260 kilometres to the west, was searched, and the remains of 2163 Australian and British POWs were uncovered. Hundreds of bodies were found at the burnt-out ruins of the POW camp.
Research has indicated that some 2428 Allied servicemen—1787 Australians and 641 British—held in the Sandakan Camp in January 1945 died between January and August 1945 in Japanese captivity.
They were so close to being freed as the war was nearly over. How is it that so few (only six) made it home?
Until April 1943 the soldiers were worked hard but had enough to eat and kept their spirits up with concerts. Then the new guards arrived, from Formosa, under Japanese leadership. They were considered the lowest of the low by the Japanese, not even good enough to fight, so brutalised and resentful, they took out their anger on the prisoners. In July an intelligence ring run by some officers with local people was discovered, resulted in severe punishments. There must have been some hope when in September 1944 Allied planes began bombing Sandakan and the airfield. This was seen by the captors as a reason to reduce rations as the prisoners were no longer needed to work on the bombed-out airfield. The plan was made to move the prisoners to Ranau in the mountains where they could be used as supply carriers. The first group of 455 Australians and British set off with only four day’s rations, no boots, in rain, suffering from malnutrition and numerous other illnesses. If they fell they were dragged into the bushes and bayoneted or shot. By June, five months later, there were six left.
Back at the camp in Sandakan, things were no better.
Hundreds of Australian and British POWs between January and August 1945 expired at Sandakan camp from ill-treatment in a situation where their captors possessed locally enough medical and food supplies to adequately care for them.
At the end of May another 530 prisoners were moved out with about 270 left behind, too incapacitated to move. Twenty-six days later 183 men reached Renau; it had indeed been a Death March. Of those left at the camp they all either died of illness or starvation or were killed by the guards.
Remains from the burnt out POW camp
Reading about the conditions under which these men lived and the hard work they were expected to do until they dropped is gut wrenching so I will move on to one bright note. Six men survived. Yes, out of 2,700 men Six survived. This is their story.
Gunner Owen Campbell, 2/10th Field Regiment
On the second Death March, Campbell and four others decided to use the first opportunity to escape. Out of sight of guards during an air attack, they slid down a 61-metre bank, hid in some bracken and rubbish, and lay quietly until the column had moved on. For four days they fought their way, sometimes on hands and knees, through the jungle in what they assumed was the general direction of the coast. The four other men all lost their lives but Campbell eventually spied a canoe. The canoeists, Lap and Galunting, took him to Kampong Muanad where Kulang, a local anti-Japanese guerrilla leader, was headman. The local people hid and cared for the sick man. Eventually, Kulang took Campbell down river to where an Australian SRD (Service Reconnaissance Department) unit was camped.
Bombardier Richard ‘Dick’ Braithwaite, 2/15th Australian Field Regiment.
During the early stages of the second march Dick Braithwaite was so ill with malaria that his mates had to hold him up at roll call. For him it was a question of escape or die. Taking advantage of a gap in the column, he slipped behind a fallen tree until everyone had gone by. Eventually he reached the Lubok River where an elderly local man called Abing helped him. Abing took Braithwaite in his canoe down river to his village, where he was looked after. Hidden under banana leaves, Braithwaite was paddled for 20 hours downstream to Liberan Island where he was rescued by an American PT boat and taken to nearby Tawi Tawi Island. A week later, after he had told his story, an Australian colonel came to see him in his hospital bed to tell him they were going in to rescue his friends:
I can remember this so vividly. I just rolled on my side in the bunk, faced the wall, and cried like a baby. And said ‘You’ll be too late’.
Private Keith Botterill, 2/19th Battalion,
Lance Bombardier William Moxham, 2/15th Australian Field Regiment,
PrivateNelson Short, 2/18th Battalion
Botterill, Moxham, Short and another man, Gunner Andy Anderson, escaped from Ranau on 7 July and for some days hid in a cave on the slopes of Mount Kinabalu. They ran into a local man, Bariga, and had little option but to trust him with their story. Throughout the remainder of July, Bariga hid them and brought food. Anderson died of chronic dysentery and they buried him in the jungle. At this point, Bariga learnt that there was an Australian unit operating behind the lines in the area, and after the Japanese surrender on 15 August the three POWs were told to head out of the area and meet up with this unit. Nelson Short recalled as they lay exhausted in the jungle:
We said, ‘Hello, what’s this? Is this Japs coming to get us? They’ve taken us to the Japs or what?’ But sure enough it was our blokes. We look up and there are these big six footers. Z Force. Boy oh boy. All in greens.
Warrant Officer ‘Bill’ Sticpewich, Australian Army Service Corps;
The final escape from Ranau was that of Sticpewich and Private Herman Reither. Towards the end of July a friendly Japanese guard warned Sticpewich that all remaining POWs at Ranau would be killed. On the 28th he and Reither managed to slip out of the camp and hid in the jungle until the hunt for them died down. They moved on and were eventually taken in by a local Christian, Dihil bin Ambilid. Hearing of the presence of Allied soldiers, Dihil took a message to them from Sticpewich. Back came medicines and food but unfortunately Reither had already died from dysentery and malnutrition. There is a dark side to this story which you may wish to read in the following article by Lynette Silver.
These six survivors were alive to testify in court against their tormentors and to ensure that the world received eyewitness accounts of the crimes and atrocities committed at Sandakan, on the death marches and at Ranau. As a result of these trials, eight Japanese, including the Sandakan camp commandant, Captain Hoshijima Susumi, were hanged as war criminals. A further 55 were sentenced to various terms of imprisonment.
It is hard to explain the treatment of prisoners at Sandikan by their captors. The Imperial Japanese Army indoctrinated its soldiers to believe that surrender was dishonourable. POWs were therefore thought to be unworthy of respect. The IJA relied on physical punishment to discipline its own troops and allied prisoners formed the bottom rung of the military hierarchy. The fear of an uprising by the prisoners may have been behind the decision to make them weak through sickness and malnutrition. The fear of reprisal at the end of the war would have fuelled the decision to remove every trace of the 2,500 prisoners sent to Sandakan.
Ever since China opened up to overseas tourists in the late 1970s we had wanted to visit this enigmatic country. It wasn’t until April, 2014 that we embarked on a tour with Peregrine Adventures. What I liked about the tour company was that it mainly used public transport, involved a lot of physical activity and the group would be no larger than fifteen people. Reading the Lonely Planet guide I was entranced by the picture of Tiger Leaping Gorge and imagined myself climbing narrow tracks beside rushing rivers and below jagged snow-capped mountains.
Photo by Linda Curry
Where is Tiger Leaping Gorge? It is 60 kilometres (37 miles) north of Lijiang City, Yunnan, in southwestern China. Around fifteen kilometres in length the gorge is located where the Jinsha river passes between Jade Dragon Snow Mountain and Haba Snow Mountain in a series of rapids under steep two hundred metre cliffs.
Although the gorge is not considered navigable, four rafters attempted to go down the rapids in the early 1980s and were never seen again. Subsequent attempts using boats were more successful. The area was first officially opened to overseas tourists in 1993.
We had had an inauspicious start to our tour. On the second day I was violently ill so I spent the day in bed.
Two others in our group starting feeling queasy. We decided it must be a combination of altitude (2052 m) although altitude sickness should not really kick in until 2500 m and strange food, water, jet lag, tiredness etc. Our guide Jane wants us to eat like the locals and serve ourselves with our own chopsticks but we rebelled and said that it would be too easy to spread germs so she relented and we now use serving spoons although continue to eat with chopsticks.
Personally I blame the birthday cake for John, loaded with cream and delivered to our table in Dali Old Town.
Was the birthday cake to blame?
Would we all be well enough to tackle Tiger Leaping Gorge?
Saturday was the test before the big one. To climb Shibaishan Mountain was our aim. To get there from Shaxi, we walked 1.5km north, turned left at the sign (pointing to Shadeng Qing) and walked another one kilometre to the foot of the mountain. The path up the mountain consisted of hundreds, maybe thousands of stone steps.
The first temple is up on the hillside
Along the way were several temples, grottoes and stone carvings. At the first temple we thought we had reached our destination but onward and upward we continued. Three had stayed behind owing to illness and some of the group were either coming down with or recovering from bouts of diarrhoea. It was sunny and hot and we needed frequent rests. As I felt I had recovered I really enjoyed the fresh air and the surrounding hills covered with cypress forest and the view of paddy fields way below. I felt I was ready for whatever tomorrow would bring.
On Sunday, 13th April, 2014 we left at 7.30am on the three hour trip to Tiger Leaping Gorge. This was at times a harrowing experience but we finally arrived at Qiaotou and armed only with backpacks and bamboo walking sticks set off on the trail.
Leaving Qiaotou
The first part of the walk was easy and pleasant as it was not too hot and the track rose gradually. We admired the river below and the snow speckled mountains above until we reached the Naxi Family Guest House where we had a long lunch.
Map at the Naxi Guest House. See the 28 bends?
The plan was to rest before tackling the notorious 28 bends in the late afternoon, but the tactic did not work. I found I was becoming more and more exhausted and had to rest frequently. There was no shade and sitting on a hot rock was not very pleasant. All the while the mules tinkled behind us and their owners eyed us hopefully, waiting for a sign of weakness. When I felt dizzy from hyperventilating I decided a mule was the only way to go. As if waiting for someone else to crack, three others also paid the 200 yuan ($40) for a mule.
I give in
The ride was actually quite enjoyable. It was such a relief not to be climbing any more and my mule and I became very good friends. He was very sure-footed and I had complete faith that he would not topple off the narrow track. I had visions of riding into Tea Horse Inn on my steed but just short of the highest point of the track I had to dismount and continue on foot for an hour. From then on it was easy walking and we were met on the track by the four who were unable to do the walk. Of the eight who walked today, four did the whole trip under their own steam, without the help of mules – the youngest, aged 23 and the oldest aged 77.
Glad to make it to Tea Horse Inn
Tea Horse Inn was picturesque and the beds were comfortable. The showers were hot and there were pedestal toilets in the bathroom, something we did not have in Shaxi. Those who were too sick to walk had been entertained by watching the instalment of a new kitchen and dining room which we got to experience that evening. With our diet of rice, vegetables, little meat, no alcohol and plenty of exercise I felt like I was in a health resort. There was beer but I went off it after Dali.
Watching the sun move across the peaks of the mountains next morning was spoiled only by the fact that some were still too sick to do anything but travel by vehicle to the next night’s accommodation. We found the walk much easier on day two and enjoyed the magnificent scenery. We came across a waterfall of cloudy white water beside what looked like a primitive factory and found it was part of a tungsten mine. In fact there was only one unpolluted waterfall in Tiger Leaping Gorge and that was used as the water supply for the area. Plastic and metal pipes followed the track, detracting from the natural scenery for much of the walk but we were glad to make use of them at the end. Somehow we forgot to eat lunch as no one was hungry when we rested at the Half Way Guest House. We got to visit the famous toilets with the best view in the world. The whole back of the cubicle was open to the sky and the mountains.
On the roof of the Half Way Guest House
The only steep part of the track caused problems for a Canadian trekker in our group who fainted and fell, cutting her head. The guide and the woman’s husband helped her down and fortunately she made a good recovery that evening. It was very stressful for Jane (our tour leader) as she was keeping an eye on us in front and also the injured member behind. The descent to Tina’s was gravelly and one slip could be disastrous. We had a walk across the bridge, looked below at some ant like people on the rock and returned to sit in the dining room eating freshly roasted peanuts and drinking coke.
Tina’s Guest House
We left Tiger Leaping Gorge the next morning at 9.30 am, following the river in our bus which had driven the three hours from Lijiang to get us. It was difficult to squeeze through in parts because of rockfalls.
Is this where the tiger leapt?
Some of our group planned to visit the hospital as soon as we arrived at our Naxi style hotel. I accompanied Jane and two group members who had been sick for an extended period of time, walking through the old town and into the new town for medical help in the form of antiemetic drugs.
Lijiang had an earthquake in 1996 which killed 300 people, including many schoolchildren when the roof collapsed in a school. Many of the town’s buildings date from that time. The old town was carefully reconstructed with UNESCO funding and is a maze of cobbled streets and wooden buildings.
Lijiang Old Town from a hilltop
Fortunately most people in the group recovered in the next few days but for the rest of the trip no-one was willing to admit they had a birthday and risk being presented with a microbiologically suspect cream cake.
The name Sandakan has a wonderfully exotic sound. When our travel agent gave us someone else’s itinerary which included Sabah, now part of Malaysia, on the traditional island of Borneo, we couldn’t wait to make it ours. Things didn’t quite work out as planned which made me decide to be my own travel agent in future but I have to tell you about the Gomantong Edible Birds’ Nest Cave, the Sukau River Lodge, the trip up the Kinabatangan River watching for proboscis monkeys and orangutans, the Sepolik Orangutan Centre with the orphaned orangutans, the English Tea House high on a hill in Sandakan, the Memorial Park to the soldiers of the Sandakan Death March and the Agnes Keith saga of “Land Below the Wind”.
Are you ready?
Wednesday, 22nd July, 2009 Kota Kinabalu, Sabah
We were awake before alarms started going off around 4.30am. By 5.30 we were anxiously looking for our pick-up vehicle. 5.45am and we were very anxious. We gave up and took a taxi. The 45 minute flight itself was interesting, over mountains and rivers. We were astonished at the extensive plantations of oil palm trees (Elaeis guineensis) which had replaced the traditional rainforest. When I say extensive you’ve got to believe it.
At Sandakan Airport we were met by M who was very well spoken but looked seriously unfit. He seemed to have difficulty moving and the sweat poured off him in the intense heat. First stop was the Sepolik Orangutan Centre where we were to transfer to our minibus. M did not inspire us with confidence as he disappeared, leaving us alone in front of a small café. Close to us a charismatic guide was surrounded by adoring tourists pressing notes into his hands and farewelling him with genuine remorse. However, our fate was to be with M who waved us in the direction of the minivan and explained there would be two vans travelling together as there were eleven of us in the group. The other bus left but ours would not start. After a while John and any other male around who thought he knew about cars had a go at starting it. The key went in the ignition but would not turn. About half an hour later the driver finally realised he was using the wrong key. Finally on our way we encountered our next problem in the small town of Kota Kinabatangan. M indicated that we could stop for a coffee break but we found the real reason for the interruption soon enough. One of the passengers on the other van had come to realise that he was travelling inland and not to the jetty where the boat left for Turtle Island. This was especially galling for us as we had wanted Turtle Island in out itinerary but the travel agent had “stuffed up”. Oh well! The other passengers had to wait an hour on the side of the road in a hot minivan while a taxi came for the errant tourist. At least we had cold tea and iceblocks to while away the time.
Finally on our way we turned off to the Gomantong Caves where swiflets construct edible nests from a glutinous secretion, produced from salivary glands under the tongue. The Cave Swiflets that live here in the thousands make two types of nest, commonly referred to as white nests and black nests. Both are edible and they are used to make the Chinese delicacy birds nest soup.
Gomantong Caves
A slippery wooden walkway followed the inside edge of the cave. Above us were the valuable birds’ nests and a few swifts darting around. The bats were mainly sleeping so were few in number. Below and inside the walkway was guano (the excrement of birds and bats). A handrail divided the walkway from the stinking mess below but I grabbed it only to let go in horror as it was covered not only in guano but cockroaches, dead and alive. Where there were missing wooden slats on the walkway I was forced to grab the handrail again, gingerly, with the tips of my fingers. I noticed M had stayed outside. On our way around the cave we found one tiny bat on a rock and a baby swiftlet that had fallen from a nest. We were all pleased to see the sunlight again and voted unanimously on the bus afterwards that the climbing of slippery rope ladders in those smelly caves to gather birds’ nests, would be one of the worst ten jobs in the world.
Here is a newspaper extract concerning the current value of birds’ nests. (2009)
By Niluksi Koswanage and James Pomfret
SABAH, Malaysia (Reuters Life!)
The nests are woven by the saliva of the Asian male swift, and when prices went as high as $2,500 a kg (2 lbs) last year, teams would work round-the-clock to prise them off the walls of the 25-storey high Goamantong cave in eastern Sabah state.
Now, as the global economic recession reduces the appetite for luxury items in China and beyond, Asri and other harvesters spend most of their time outside the cave, smoking and keeping an eye out for thieves eager to make off with the nests despite the drop in market prices and demand.
“We are stuck. There are many birds’ nests to collect but we have been told by our bosses to take less because prices are falling and people from China are losing interest,” Asri said.
Consumers in China and Taiwan prize swifts’ nests as a health tonic, aphrodisiac and status symbol, earning the delicacy its “caviar of the east” nickname. Goamantong nests are among the most exquisite in the world as there are less impurities like feathers and grit, traders say.
So the other job we considered on a par with the nest gatherer was the job of nest guard, high up inside the cave on a platform, in the dark, with the smells and the insects, bats and bird droppings.
Wildlife Adventure Tours Lodge
A short walk along a jungle track brought us back to the minivan. In less than an hour we had reached the wide, brown Kinabatangan River. Here we boarded a launch and crossed the river to the Wildlife Adventure Tour’s own lodge. At first sight it looked run-down and ramshackle but we were immediately served a lunch of rice, chicken, fish and vegetables. I especially liked the stir-fried eggplant and jackfruit. Our rooms were quaint little dark green lodges on stilts which looked authentically Malay. Although spartan they contained necessities such as an air conditioner and a shower. There were twin beds, each with a mosquito net over it. The windows also had screens but it was comforting to have double protection. Showered and refreshed we walked back to the jetty for our river trip in search of monkeys and other wildlife.
Proboscis monkey
This is where the best memories and the worst experiences blur together. I became so hot I nearly passed out as there was no cover over the boat. Only when the sun slipped behind the trees could I enjoy the scenery around me. We spotted numerous macaques, proboscis monkeys, a striped snake and at the very end of the cruise, a pair of orangutans. They looked like kings of the jungle as they balanced easily on branches at the tops of the tallest trees.
Looking for wildlife on the Kinabatangan river
Back at the lodge we showered again before dinner. There was freshly made fried rice and some tasty barbecued meat. John bought us each a can of beer which we consumed while chatting to some of the other people on other tours. The proposed slide shows and insect walks did not eventuate, and although annoyed that M couldn’t be bothered, we weren’t sorry to retire to our stilt house and sleep under our mosquito nets.
Macaque monkey
Thursday, 23rd July, 2009, Sukau River Lodge
The alarm woke me in the middle of a dream but on the whole I slept well. M had promised to be there in the morning to hand us over to our new guide as he was staying another day so I decided to give him a few RM in appreciation for his efforts. However he wasn’t there so he missed out.
We were quite happy to leave, said goodbye to our two Danish friends and had an uneventful journey to Sepolik Orangutan Park. At the Sepolik Orangutan Centre there were hundreds of people, many tour guides and very little direction. We were told by our guide to “wait here for Mr G” after which hundreds of people poured past us into a small theatre, all escorted by their efficient and capable guides. Where was Mr G? Finally we saw our former guide and asked after our new escort. Mr G had been lounging around having a cigarette and enjoying himself, unaware, or so it seemed, of our existence. The two guides argued over whether we should see the film now or after the orangutan feeding. Mr G lost so we squashed in on top of the other 250 people in the theatre to hear the end of an explanation of what the Orangutan Centre was all about. The film was very informative, explaining how people try to raise orphan orangutans in their homes. The orangutans become too big and too strong to handle and the owners don’t know what to do with them. The orangutan centre prepares them to re-enter the wild. At the feeding table we saw about five orangutans. We stood on a seat at the back and watched over the heads of the other two to three hundred people.
Orangutans at the Centre
Back on the bus we arrived at the Sandakan Hotel. It is about a three star standard but is in a very good central position. We had a brief rest before organising a taxi to take us to the Death March Memorial. It cost RM60 return, with the taxi driver waiting for us, having a siesta under the trees. As he said, “How else would you get back to the hotel?”
THIS MEMORIAL MARKS THE SITE OF A PRISON CAMP OF SURVIVORS OF THE FIRST DEATH MARCH FROM SANDAKAN TO RANAU FROM JANUARY TO APRIL 1945.
OF THE 2,000 AUSTRALIAN SOLDIERS OF THE 2ND A.I.F. AND 750 BRITISH SOLDIERS OF THE BRITISH ARMY WHO LEFT SANDAKAN ONLY 6 AUSTRALIAN SOLDIERS SURVIVED.
ON THIS ACTUAL SPOT VX52128 GUNNER ALBERT NEIL CLEARY 2/15TH FIELD REGIMENT, ROYAL AUSTRALIAN ARTILLERY WAS CHAINED TO A STAKE AND BEATEN AND STARVED FOR 11 DAYS UNTIL HE FINALLY DIED ON 20 MARCH 1945. AGED 22 YEARS.
THIS MEMORIAL ALSO COMMEMORATES THE COURAGE AND BRAVERY OF THE LOCAL PEOPLE OF SABAH, WHO SO GALLANTLY ASSISTED THE PRISONERS-OF-WAR AGAINST OVERWHELMING ODDS.
Sandakan Prison Camp
I could write a hundred pages or more about the Prison Camp but will leave it until U for Understanding Sandakan. It was a very peaceful place with trees and lakes and birds. It was hard to imagine what took place here on this spot 64 years ago. The remains of some of the machinery, water tanks and pipes of the prison camp were scattered around the park and a chapel-like building with a scale model of the camp as it was stood at the crest of a hill.
On the way back we asked the taxi driver if the Agnes Keith House would be open. We had read it was near the English Tea House so when he said “Yes, you want English Tea House?” we decided to take a risk at getting home afterwards and go there. The Agnes Keith House was closed but we decided we needed cheering up after the Death March Memorial and headed off for an English tea. Our table was overlooking the sea but because I indicated I liked the gazebo it was immediately cleared and made ready for us. John was chatting to some people on the croquet lawn when he discovered I’d moved. We enjoyed our coffee with scones and cream so much that we decided to come back for dinner.
An English tea with coffee
Instead of getting a taxi back we walked the “hundred steps” to the bottom. The road and steps were covered in moss with gaps and holes in numerous places so we thought it might be dangerous in the dark. That night we went back up in a taxi but we walked down the main road to come back to the hotel which didn’t take very long.
Dinner in our gazebo was very pleasant overlooking the Sulu Sea in a perfect temperature. We shared a papaya and scallop entrée, had red bream with rice and snow peas for mains and bread and butter pudding (me) and mango pie(John).
The gazebo
The music was from the war years and the atmosphere was magical. It was a truly memorable evening.
Friday, 24th July, 2009, Sandakan, Sabah
After breakfast, we walked up the hundred steps to the Agnes Keith House. This is how Lonely Planet describes it.
This atmospheric two-storey colonial villa, Newlands, tells the story of American writer Agnes Keith and her British husband Harry, the Conservator of Forests in North Borneo. They lived in Sandakan from 1934 to 1952 and spent three years in Japanese internment camps during WWII.
As the day had not become too hot (it was only about 28 degrees Celsius) the walk was quite pleasant. We fell in love with the house as soon as we entered. The ground floor has high ceilings and polished floors. It consists of two large rooms with a broad staircase in the middle. I noted there was a dining room with a refrigerator and a lounge room. The absence of a kitchen was explained by a room across a breezeway where the cooking would have been performed by the servants.
Agnes was a good artist
Upstairs were two huge bedrooms and a study. Each bedroom had a spacious ensuite off one end. In the master bedroom the queen sized bed was in the centre of the room “to catch the breezes” with all the other furniture against the walls.
Bed in middle of room for coolness
We read about the life of Agnes, her husband Harry and their son and daughter. I intend to buy or borrow her books – “Beneath the Wind, Three Come Home and White Man Returns”. They are about pre-war Sandakan, being captured by the Japanese and returning after the war.
The Agnes Keith House
Reading the books afterwards I learnt how Agnes, Harry and their son were imprisoned during the war but survived. Coming back to their home they found it burnt to the ground. It was rebuilt as an almost exact replica of their former home. However, Borneo after the war would never be the same and when “White Man Returns” they find their days in Sandakan are numbered.
When I retired I relished being able to read a book when I felt like it, without the pressure of work obligations keeping me from one of my favourite activities.
For several years I hoped to find a Book Club and eventually rang the local library to see what they suggested. They gave me the name of a group who met once a month on a Tuesday at 5.30 pm. The leader was a librarian who worked there but the meetings were held at the Golf Club. I spoke to Ruth, the leader, on the phone, and she told me the next book was Inhalingthe Mahatma by Christopher Kremmer and the meeting would be on the 19th January, 2010.
I found the book hard going but completed it by the day of the meeting. I was a bit apprehensive about the intellectual rigour of the group but I needn’t have worried.
There were seven or eight all together. Most people didn’t like the book as a whole, although some liked part of it. Two had only read two chapters, one had returned it to the library unfinished, two hadn’t read any of it and the leader had almost finished it.
It was one of those Book Clubs where you turned up whether you had read the book or not. It was as much about socialising as an in-depth book study. I felt at ease with this group although I was determined to read every book nominated before the meeting.
Thirteen years have passed and still our group consists of the same people plus or minus one or two. When the librarian, Ruth, retired from the library, we all wondered briefly what would become of us. Ruth decided to just keep on as before, so we still meet every month in the same place to discuss a book, sometimes briefly, sometimes in great depth. Now we have a FB group so we can communicate with members more easily. We have tried other venues but keep returning to the Golf Club where we can usually find a quiet corner and we can enjoy the spectacular view out to sea. Towards the end of every year we all contribute one or two suggestions to make up a list for the following year. The icing on the cake is not having to cook a meal because we all order at the club restaurant after the meeting.
How I read books has changed a lot in the last seventeen years. By this I mean it used to be either library books or books I bought from local bookstores. Now it is mainly library books read on my iPad, downloaded from Borrowbox. Sometimes I will buy and download a book from iBooks or Kindle. Christmas and birthdays are the main times I buy books unless it is something unavailable in other formats. I love reading on my iPad because I can eat at the same time!
Some books borrowed on Borrowbox
I also belong to another Book Club associated with our Aqua jogging group. It meets up infrequently and only once since Covid restrictions ended. I wasn’t adequately prepared for the last one as I had read Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus six months before. Alas I had even forgotten some of the characters and felt unable to contribute anything sensible. Everyone else had read the book and seemed to know it inside out. I’ll be better prepared next time.
As well as Reading my other R is for Recording. Every major holiday I used to take my Sony HandyCam with me and record every interesting and fascinating moment. I would then relive my holiday by playing it back on my computer and using the software iMovie, to edit, add music, transitions and titles.
This would then be burnt onto a DVD and an appropriate picture would be printed on the white blank of the disk as well as the jewel case cover. Friends and family would then be subjected to this modern take on a slide night which would see most of them falling asleep. To prevent this happening I then made ten minute DVDs with the edited highlights.
Holidays captured on DVD
Possibly everyone heaved a sigh of relief when I found technology changing around me, rendering my video camera obsolete and my beloved iMovie 6 replaced by a newer version I didn’t like. Some of my aqua and book club friends were showing off their newly made photo books. All you have to do is download the software from Photobookclub, insert your favourite photos and get it made up into a beautifully bound photo book. The quality is not quite as good as a printed photo but it is fun to play around with different backgrounds, borders and arrangements. An added bonus is a guest can flick through it in ten seconds and is not held captive by a lengthy video.
Holidays captured in Photo Books
I even made a photo book based on my 1918 “A for Ancestry” but named it “The A to Z of my DNA”.
An A to Z in a Photo Book
Printing six copies I was able to keep one, give one to each of my children and three to new DNA relatives. Even though it is nearly 50% text it still came up well as a photobook.
Inside the A to Z of my DNA
Putting together photos of the first five years of my grandson’s life I made another simple story/photo book which he still loves to read. He keeps asking for me to make one of the next five years but that is a project still on the back burner.
When I was small my father would tell me stories of “Step and Tear”. They were two orphans who had all sorts of dreadful experiences but things turned out well for them in the end. I started telling these stories to my grandchildren but had to make up many new adventures as I honestly couldn’t remember much. Now I have all these stories on my computer and am looking for a way to make them into a self-published book for the children before they get too old. That is my next project after the A to Z is over.
Think how much photography has changed in the last 17 years! From having rolls of film printed and waiting a week for the finished result we now have instant access to our photos which as a result have multiplied exponentially. On the computer are slides converted to digital, photos in older software, scans of printed photos, photos not yet put in folders. Finding photos for this and other A to Zs had been time consuming because they are all over the place. That is another job for the future, organising all the photos into one place on my computer.
Don’t get me started on all those printed photos in boxes, and the ones in photo albums. I really should go through them and discard at least 50%.
You might ask what Q Station stands for? It is short for Quarantine Station but is not where people were isolated with Covid. Instead it is a comfortable, quirky and different type of accommodation in a stunning setting on North Head, Sydney Harbour.
We decided to give ourselves one night there for our birthdays which are not too far apart. To get there we caught a train to Sydney, changed at Central for Circular Quay, then took a ferry to Manly and a bus to the Q Station. The bus driver insisted we stay on the bus so he could drive us up to the lookout to see what he thought was the best view in Sydney. He even stopped to let me off for a quick photo before dropping us back at the Q Station.
View of Sydney from North Head
We arrived two hours before check-in, thinking we could leave our small bags somewhere and have lunch in the café at the beach. Reception rang the room and it was ready so we hopped on a minibus and were driven down a steep hill to our accommodation. It wasn’t luxurious but it was clean, had an ensuite and a verandah with two chairs and a table.
Entry to our room
Our view was of the buildings opposite, but some exploration brought us to the First Class dining room next door which opened onto a deck overlooking the water. It is no longer a dining room but where we were staying was for the First Class passengers arriving by ship years ago. We decided to keep that spot in mind for a pre-dinner drink later in the evening.
The First Class Dining Room
There used to be a funicular railway to the beach but that has been removed and instead we walked down 230 steps. We could have called for the minibus to take us but decided we needed the exercise. Next to the café is a small museum which tells the story of the Quarantine Station. We ate bagels filled with ham and pickles and watched school children on an excursion, glad that we were not the teachers.
A long way down
After exploring the museum we walked back up the 230 steps and spent the afternoon poking around the extensive buildings spread across the hillside. A brief rest in our room was followed by a shower and a glass of white wine on the First Class Dining Room verandah. We thought we were observing a dramatic life and death rescue by helicopter out on the water but fortunately it turned out to be a drill.
Drinks outside the First Class Dining Room
It was time to walk back down the 230 steps for dinner at the Boiler House. There were corporate groups outside under pavilions but we were escorted up more steps to a mezzanine level built inside the old building.
The Boiler House by day
Our two-course meal with a glass of wine was excellent and was followed by a stroll around the jetty and beach before climbing the 230 steps to our room. It was time to do some research on the history of the Q Station.
Dining room in the Boiler House
In 1836 the immigrant ship Lady Macnaghton left Cork, Ireland. Of the 444 passengers on board, 56 had died from typhus and scarlett fever by the time it reached Sydney. The sick were left on board and the rest were housed in tents on the site of the Quarantine Station at North Head for two months. Seventeen more people died on shore owing to the exposed living conditions, lack of warm clothing and unpredictable weather. An inquiry was held into conditions on emigrant ships which resulted in considerable improvements and stricter rules. It was also the catalyst for the establishment of permanent buildings for the purpose of quarantine.
Quarantine Beach. The hospital is on the hill.
From the 1830s until 1984, migrant ships arriving in Sydney with suspected contagious disease stopped inside North Head and offloaded passengers and crew to protect the residents of Sydney.
Quarters for First Class passengers
As Australia’s longest continuously operating quarantine station, it has changed considerably over time. The heritage buildings reflect the typecasting of people by gender, race and class.
After its closure on 16th March 1984, ownership of the Quarantine Station was transferred from the Commonwealth to the State Government. The National Parks & Wildlife Service (NPWS) established guided tours and a conference and functions centre.
Largely owing to lack of funding many of the buildings fell into disrepair.
In 2006, Mawland Group signed a lease with NPWS and repaired and improved the facilities to their current standard. In 2022 the site above Quarantine Beach was sold to a successful northern beaches hotelier.
We studied the map and found a myriad of uses for the structures around us.
The shower block was the first stop for quarantine arrivals, where they were forced to strip for carbolic acid showers. This was to erase fleas and body lice which could host infectious diseases. What a traumatic introduction to Australia for would be residents!
Shower block
One building, which contains a single, windowless room, was used as a gas-inhalation chamber, under the misguided belief a good dose of zinc sulfate would kill a virus in the lungs.
Another building contains large-vaulted chambers that were used to fumigate passengers’ luggage on arrival with the aim of killing vermin.
Chamber to fumigate luggage
More than 800 carvings and inscriptions by inmates have been discovered around the property. There is a large sandstone rock face that’s covered with painted, carved and scratched inscriptions from many of the 12,000 people incarcerated at the quarantine station during its time in operation.
Some are initials, others are drawings, and many describe the misery of life in quarantine, written in many languages.
One inscription from 1917 by Xie Ping De from He County, China:
Sky … Ocean,
I am very frightened of having the disease.
Moreover the doctor is helpless to control the sickness.
Feeling pessimistic and despondent.
I am not used to maintaining hygiene yet.
If you asked me the feeling about the voyage.
I shall persuade you never come here for pleasure.
Wish you good health and a long life.
(Translated from Chinese)
It wasn’t all misery for the detainees. The Sydney Morning Herald in 1913 described some of the leisure pursuits that passengers had available to them.
Those who are merely detained as contacts have about 500 acres of ground to ramble over. In good weather the days pass like a picnic. There are retired paths and retreats and open well-grassed plots. Cricket has been played and though the inclines are steep football has been attempted. Fishing is open to all, and those who like swimming have opportunities in abundance.
The Migration Act of 1958 legalised the detention of “illegal immigrants”, a term referring to anyone without a valid visa. What was originally built as a staff dining room became a detention area for people awaiting deportation. An inscription in this building (translated from Turkish) goes like this.
The Cruelty
Where did you come from Adam or Noah
My wrists! Where did you get this chain?
The cruel capitalists can exploit and kill
The poor people and enslave them
I’m not strong enough!
The cruel and the cruelty
My wrists! How did I get this chain?
In the final stages of the Vietnam war, the Quarantine Station provided refuge for children hastily evacuated from Vietnam as it fell. Many of the 200 children brought to Australia were cared for by staff there as they waited to meet their new adoptive families.
I wondered what happened at the Q Station during the Covid lockdowns. Apparently you could stay in a cottage (at a slightly reduced rate) for weeks at a time, with your groceries delivered, and live in complete isolation from the rest of the world, ensuring your safety and good health. It wouldn’t be a bad spot to retreat from the world.
I am indeed fortunate to have two grandchildren. The first one arrived in 2010. We were at the hospital when she was born and I held her in my arms shortly after delivery. What an exciting time! Not so much for her mother, left alone in recovery.
Grandchild number one
After twelve months my daughter went back to work. We agreed to babysit one day a fortnight while the other grandparents did one day in the other week. The rest of the time she went to a long day childcare centre.
Babysitting this one kept us busy
It was an early start for us, getting up in the dark, driving to Sydney to arrive by 7.30am so the parents could head off to work. Memories of my own children came back as we settled into the routine of bathing, changing, feeding, sleeping and going for walks. We would drive back home around six o’clock at night and collapse exhausted from the effort. How do parents do that every day?
Two years after the birth of our granddaughter a baby boy arrived. Now our visits were to help our daughter where we could as she was at home for another year. She moved houses several times and I recall my husband saying more than once “this is the last move where I’m helping.”
Grandchild number 2
Then she was back at work and we were babysitting two little ones once a fortnight. I remember the double pram she bought so we could explore the streets of her suburb.
Taking two for a walk
Eventually the eldest was at school and after seven years they both were. The early morning trek to Sydney was no more although we still visited. Seeing the children regularly in their first five years was a privilege that many grandparents don’t have for various reasons.
Now that the children were older they came to visit us in the school holidays while their parents worked. The younger one especially, missed his parents and had trouble sleeping. I would end up in his bed or he would be in ours and we would all be walking around, eyes propped open with matchsticks the next day.
It was extremely fortunate that the Early Start Centre was constructed at the University of Wollongong just when we needed it. It was a magical place to take the children so I bought an annual membership for us all for several years.
Drama at an early age. Performing at the Early Start Centre
There was a pirate ship where they could climb the rigging, a grocery store where they could shop, a café where they could make pretend food and coffee for their grandparents, a craft area, a reading room, a Lego room, an outdoor play area, a construction site with bricks and tiles, an archaeological dig, a dress up area with lights and backdrops, a puppet show stage and most challenging of all, a digestive system where children climbed in the mouth and came out the other end. My grandson took a few visits to pluck up the courage to try that one!
Dressed up as archaeologists, UOW Early Start Centre
As I type I am looking at a photo on the wall of the grandchildren at the Botanic Gardens near our home. They are surrounded by teddy bears. We used to take a picnic lunch and have a Teddy Bears’ Picnic. I would hide the bears in the bushes and they would spend ages trying to find them. I don’t think we ever left one behind.
Teddy Bears’ Picnic at the Botanic Gardens
The other picture on the wall is of the two of them playing in shallow water at the beach. Whenever the weather was fine we would take them down to the rockpools and sheltered sandy spots to splash in the water and build sand castles.
Playing at the beach
Now the eldest is a teenager. This week the three girls (my daughter, my granddaughter and I) are going to see Julia, a play about the first woman Prime Minister of Australia. An ardent feminist, my granddaughter is looking forward to hearing the famous misogyny speech. She loves drama in all its forms, enjoys debating and performing.
My grandson is also a great lover of drama, watching and performing. He sings in the State Public School choir. Like his sister before him, he is school captain and relishes getting up on stage to make speeches. Such self-confidence is amazing in one so young but a lot of it has to do with the constant support of his parents. I’m looking forward to seeing how these young people develop and grow over the next few years. I hope that life treats them well and they are happy in whatever they choose to do.
I may have given the impression we are always travelling, camping or boating. That is far from the truth as we spend a lot of time at home. I have always been interested in family history and being retired has given me time to pursue that hobby with renewed vigour.
Most Australians come from somewhere else a few generations back. Because the first British settlement in Sydney Cove was in 1788 it is fairly easy for people to find where they came from, especially with modern DNA technology to help .
As an only child with two grandmothers, I absorbed their stories of life in the outback and of the ancestors who came before them to Australia in the 19th Century. Both my parents were only children so there were no aunts, uncles or cousins to talk to. After my father died when I was 10, from a heart attack, it was just my mother and me, two grandmothers and a great uncle. I worshipped my mother as she turned my father’s failing business around and succeeded in a man’s world of steel and piping. To me she seemed invincible.
I did ask her how I came to be born fifteen years after she was married but she calmly told me she had used contraception until the time was right.
My parents had a difficult life with one failing business after another, so I accepted what she told me. In Mildura, where I was born, they had a successful business selling irrigation equipment to soldier settlers after WW2. My mother was happy there, she said, so that when I came along, she was in a position to enjoy having a child.
I was so involved in family history research that I based some of my A to Z’s on it. In 2017 I wrote “Fact or Fiction-Family Stories”, investigating all those tales I had been told, to see if they stood up to proper genealogical research. During that time I found out considerably more about my father’s paternal side of the family, hailing from Fermanagh in Ireland. All were involved in the railways and a shocking number of them died early from heart disease.
The father I grew up with (a rare photo)
Late in 2017 my husband and I decided to do Ancestry DNA tests to help with our research. When John received a match to his cousin we marvelled at the accuracy of the test. When I received a very close match to an unknown person alarm bells rang. Funnily enough, I knew straight away that my father wasn’t my father.
Not that he had ever indicated I wasn’t his. In fact he spent a lot of time with me so that I missed a considerable amount of school travelling around the country as his “Shiralee”.
The person who matched as a possible cousin came from Mildura, the town where I was born. Her mother’s maiden name was familiar. I had a faded brown newspaper cutting from my deceased mother’s possessions. It was an obituary for someone with that name, written in 1952, the year after I was born.
At first I thought this man could not be my father. He would have been 60 when I was born. My mother was 33. You can imagine my brain has been very active ever since my discovery, vainly trying to piece together what happened. I wrote a whole A to Z based on my search in 2018. It is called “A is for Ancestry” and tells the whole story in detail. My “cousin” and I were very excited about our discovery, of course. She refused to believe that her grandfather could be my father as she wasn’t that much younger than I was. (At the time I was 66). Maybe it was his son or one of his younger brothers.
Could this man be my father?
I was so keen to meet a living relative we drove a thousand kilometres to meet up at her place. Her cousin was a genetic scientist working in the United States so she sent all the information to him. He replied shortly after with the conclusion that her grandfather was without doubt my father! That made her my half-niece.
That also made her mother my half-sister. My newfound father Bert had married and had four children before I appeared. Now they were all in their nineties, except one who had died in her eighties. The family wanted to keep it a secret from the remaining sisters, so I had to meet them without telling them of our relationship.
The young Bert around 1915
I did meet my half-brother who was told of the discovery because his son was the genetic scientist in America. He remembered meeting my mother in 1952 after coming back from a trip to Europe. He even bounced me on his knee, not knowing our relationship! His father at that time was very sick and died shortly after. He could not tell me much about my BCF (Birth Certificate Father) that I grew up with, but I sensed he hadn’t liked him and he felt my mother was “under his thrall” which maybe means he bullied her or did not allow her to participate in decision making. I certainly saw plenty of evidence of that in my childhood.
I’ll never know what really happened. My mother always came across as a devoted, dutiful wife but she really blossomed after my father’s death. Free to make her own decisions at last, she built up a very successful business, retired and lived in relative comfort in a seaside suburb in Sydney.
From what I have read, Bert was a very charismatic man. He had been lucky, surviving Gallipoli with a shoulder wound and returning from Europe after WW1 to take up land in Mildura under the Soldier Settlers Scheme. Finding that grape growing was never going to provide more than subsistence on a small block he organised a packing shed and devised marketing strategies for distribution of the grapes. This led to a career as a real estate agent and auctioneer and a stint as a recruiting officer for the Air Force in WW2. In the post-war years he suffered from a mystery illness and was semi-retired which is when he somehow became involved with my father in the irrigation equipment business venture.
Bert heading off to WW1
This is where I just can’t decide what happened. I assume my father was unable to have children because after fifteen years of marriage nothing had happened. Note that my mother didn’t have any more children after I was born. Maybe the doctor organised a sperm donation. Maybe Bert and my mother had a relationship. Whatever happened, she did it to bring me into the world, and for that I will always be grateful.
It was a relief I no longer carried the genetic heart disease of my BCF and it seemed I had inherited some long-life genes if my sisters and brother were anything to go by. However, my biological father died at 61 and I’m still not sure of the whole story. The family said he died from cancer caused by a war wound in WW1. At the end of WW2 he had to retire early as he was diagnosed with cancer and given only a few years to live. His death certificate from 1952 says he died from a fibrosarcoma of the left axilla, diagnosed only 18 months earlier. His WW1 war wound was to the right upper arm and shrapnel had remained in his body. Maybe someone got the arms mixed up when transcribing the information.
Sadly my half-brother and two half-sisters have all passed on. One sister celebrated her 100th birthday last year. I was lucky to meet them all before it was too late. I also met a cousin (daughter of my new father’s sister) who was very much into family research and died two years ago. I keep in contact with my half nieces and nephews, some of whom are about my age. They are a very friendly bunch and have included me in a family reunion and the memorial service for my half-brother. I have been able to watch the other funerals online.
As for origins, I have English and Scottish heritage but have lost my Irish connection. On Bert’s side, his paternal grandparents came from London and Essex in England. His maternal grandparents came from London and Hampshire. They all emigrated to Victoria in the 1860s. On my mother’s side, her paternal grandparents came from Warwickshire and Sussex and on her maternal side they came from Norfolk, England and Aberdeen, Scotland. They too, all arrived in Victoria in the 1850s and 1860s.
So much for my origins. That I exist at all is a quirk of fate. That I grew up in a home full of love I am extremely thankful. I have indeed had a fortunate life and owe much of my happiness to my mother Elsa who devoted her life to my upbringing.
In Joanna Lumley’s series “Japan” she travels to the Kiso Valley to walk part of the Nakasendo Way. When I watched this on television I dreamed of doing the same. It is an old travellers’ road from the Edo period (which lasted from 1603 to 1868). Nakasendo literally means “Central Mountain Road” or “Inner Mountain Path” and is a trail that once connected a string of villages that provided lodging and sustenance for shoguns, retainers, samurai and daimyo (feudal lords).
Walking the Nakasendo Way
The trail and its villages were largely abandoned in the 19th Century but fortunately a campaign to remove all the modern buildings and restore those left from the Edo period began in the 1960s. Streets were repaved with original stone and period-correct food and shelter was once again available to walkers.
Traditional village on the Nakasendo Way
We felt a bit overwhelmed at the idea of finding our own way around Japan so utilised the services of “Inside Japan”. We looked at their suggested itineraries, picked out the parts that appealed to us and added a bit of our own (a visit to the Toyota factory for John). They booked the hotels, organised transport (trains and buses) and gave us a daily outline of where to go and when.
Matsumoto Castle
From Matsumoto we were to catch the train to Nagiso and then hop on a bus to Magobe. There was a brief period of time in the morning to see Matsumoto Castle. I left John at the hotel and promised to be back in time to catch the train. It was quite exhilarating to be on my own. I paid the entrance fee and climbed to the top of the castle, each floor accessed by steep steps until I breathlessly reached the top. Back in the grounds I posed with some Samurai warriors before finding my way back to the hotel. John was relieved to see me as it was time to head down to the railway station. It took one and a quarter hours to reach Nakatsugawa by train and then another 20 minutes by bus along a winding road to reach Magobe.
We walked uphill to the tourist information office and on through the ancient village to a vantage point overlooking the town. The trail starts in Magome at an altitude of 600 metres, rises up to 801 metres and then descends to 420 metres in Tsumago.
Climbing the hill in Magome
We headed off downhill again, skirting through a small wood to cross the road which appears regularly along the way. It is a very quiet road, but a reminder that a modern world exists outside of our ancient path. At the entrance to the wood is a static bear bell. Our information told us to give it a good yank and scare off the bears. We didn’t see any, but found a bell in each wooded area. I think the bears left the area long ago.
Beware of bears
We walked past waterfalls, bamboo groves, terraced rice paddies and a working water wheel.
At around the halfway point there was a rest stop within a traditional-style tea house. Inside the old building is a traditional Japanese irori fire pit, and we had snacks and Japanese tea served by a local man in traditional costume.
Traditional tea house on the Nakasendo Way
All up it was 7.7 kilometres to Tsumago, so we were pleased to arrive at our minshuku and view our room. It was almost totally bare but we were shown our beds and yukatas so we set about preparing for the evening. A minshuku differs from a ryokan in that it is a smaller family run operation. The rooms have basic amenities and beds often have to be prepared by the guests.
Our bedroom in the minshuku
The correct way to wear a yukata is to place the left side against your body, then fold the right side over it. Then, take the belt (called an obi), wrap it around your waist one or two times and tie it in a bow knot. Finally, twist the obi around so the bow goes in the back. We removed the futons from the cupboard and laid them out.
Once we were dressed we checked out our wooden bath. The local Hinoki cypress is turned into tubs for bathing and is fragrant when it heats up. Although it was at the end of the corridor we were told if we locked the door we would have it to ourselves. First we had to wash our bodies with a bucket of warm water and soap. When we were clean we stepped into the hot spring water and soothed away all the aches and pains resulting from our walk.
Our tub is ready
At 6 o’clock dinner was served in the dining room at low tables. Everything was delicious but most memorable were the grasshoppers and raw horse meat sashimi. I can tick that off my list and never need to eat either again.
Amazing meal at our Minshuku
We retired early after a strenuous and exciting day. The beds were comfortable but I did record in my diary that they were the hardest pillows I had ever experienced.
Breakfast was another hearty meal, farewells were made to the friendly family and we were on our way to Nagiso Station, another 3.5 kilometres.
Leaving our minshuku
This section leads through more populated areas and does not feature any preserved pavements, but it still offers a pleasant, rural atmosphere and a shorter walk than the day before. We came across some intriguing statues with red knitted bonnets on their heads.
Jizo statues, guardian deity of children and travellers, made out of stone, which is said to have a spiritual power for protection and longevity that predates Buddhist beliefs.
We had some time to fill before our train arrived so walked over the Momosuke Bridge, a wooden suspension bridge crossing the Kiso River. The bridge was built in 1922 to facilitate the construction of the nearby Yomikaki hydroelectric plant. The bridge is one of the longest of its kind in Japan.
A park beside the Momosuke Bridge
Our holiday was drawing to a close as our train raced towards Tokyo. Snow capped mountains could be seen from our window. One moment in time we were in ancient Japan and now we were speeding headlong to the modern capital.
Back in a time when taking a cruise was not a guaranteed way to contract Covid, we booked a dream holiday on the Celebrity Equinox. We had enjoyed our experience on the Pride of America around Hawaii so much we thought we would try cruising again. My theory is if you can get off the ship most days it is nice to have a cabin and a meal to come home to. We left from Rome (Civitavecchia) and returned ten days later.
Here are some highlights (and lowlights) of our 2011 cruise.
Santorini
The first port of call was Santorini. After studying Trip Adviser and the Cruise Forum we decided to catch a bus from Fira to Eai and explore some of the island. We were still confident even after receiving a warning.
We sat at a table with a couple from Colorado called Rick and Sue. They are taking an organized tour on Santorini and wished us luck on our self-guided tour. The biggest obstacle will be getting a bus from Fira as there could be nine ships in port.
That morning I picked up our tender boat passes which had number 9 on them meaning Groups 1-8 would leave before us. Of course all the people on organized tours were leaving first.
We waited until 2.00 pm when we expected to go ashore, then it became 2.30, then 3.00. A Latin American musician kept people entertained but by 3.00 we were wondering if we would ever get off. About 3.10 our group was called and we climbed into our tender. The ship’s lifeboats were not used as there is an agreement to use the boats from Santorini. Once ashore we had the option of a one and a half hour wait for the cable car, a ride on a mule or a walk up 600 steps. Thinking we were in good shape we opted for the walk but didn’t count on sharing it with 600 mules, or the overpowering smell of their dung and urine in 30+ degrees Celsius heat.
About halfway up we watched horrified as we spied a large man walking down the hill with two riderless mules coming down behind him. We yelled but it was too late. He was pushed forward and as a result was running faster and faster. John heroically grabbed him by the arm and swung him to the side of the path. I had an image of them both rolling down the steep steps. He was very thankful, but I don’t think he realized how bad the situation could have been. I think we were conned by the 600 steps as each step was three paces deep.
Once at the top we found a café with a beautiful view but I headed straight to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face until I felt human again. We drank cold sparkling water and beer and at last took in the view. Fira is on the edge of a caldera. The crater is now filled with water and is reputed to have once been the site of the lost city of Atlantis. The houses and buildings are nearly all white with occasional splashes of pink and cream.
We could see four large ships and two smaller ones in the harbour. That could mean 8000 visitors ashore at one time which is an awful lot for a small village. We had planned to catch a bus to Eai but with the late arrival on the island and the heat we opted to look around Fira instead. Once away from the crowds in the town we had a pleasant walk along the cliff edge admiring the views of white-washed houses and blue domed churches. I vowed I wasn’t going down the track with all the mules but the line for the cable car was snaking along the street and into the distance so we reluctantly started downhill. The trip back wasn’t so bad once we squeezed past all the mules who were patiently waiting at the top. I went for a slide when I stepped on a patch of mule dung so walked very carefully from then on. John beat me but saved a place in the line for the return tender. We were so glad to get back to our cabin and a hot shower.
Athens
At breakfast we sat next to some sisters from Glasgow who were heading off on an organized tour of Athens. I was a bit apprehensive about our “do it yourself” tour in an unknown city and briefly wished we were on a tour as well. Not for long. Back in the room the safe refused to open. Imagine if we were supposed to get on a tour bus and couldn’t access our money or IDs! We spoke to Joel who rang the person in charge of opening safes. Two frantic phone calls from John and a man arrived, plugged a contraption like a large mobile phone into the safe and was able to open it. We hurried off the ship, jumped onto a transfer bus from Terminal B to Terminal A and then began walking to the train station. There were lines of taxis, all trying to get our business. One driver said E20? so John said OK and soon we were sitting in air conditioning with a cheerful driver telling us about the things we should see. For E85 he was prepared to be our tour guide for the day but although tempted we bid goodbye at the foot of the Acropolis.
The first glimpse of the Acropolis, so close to the city, was awe inspiring. Ever since reading my Primary School Social Studies textbooks I had wanted to see the Parthenon and now at 60 I had finally made it!
We used our Rick Steve audio guides as we wandered around the Propylaea, the Erechtheion and of course the Parthenon. John was amazed at the amount of restoration since he was there in 1969. It is partly funded by the EU and will take forever to restore. We enjoyed hearing a couple of stories about the site include the man who was asked to raise the Nazi flag on the hilltop, but as he lowered the Greek flag he wrapped himself in it and threw himself off the cliff, and the two Greek boys who scaled the wall and removed the Nazi flag. What happened to them I don’t know.
After leaving the Acropolis we started looking for the Plaka where we had cold drinks in a shady bar. We still wanted to see the smaller Parthenon like building we had spotted from the Acropolis on the plain below. It looked to be in excellent repair and was surrounded by trees and gardens. With John’s good map reading skills we arrived at the Temple of Thesseion, entry to which was included on our Acropolis ticket. We also walked between the columns of the Stoa of Attalos which I identified as Ionic and Doric. It has been fully restored and is now a museum.
Outside Parliament House there were many protesters demonstrating against the spending cuts being voted on in Parliament. There was some doubt as to whether the trains would be running because of the strike but to our relief there was a train to Piraeus and then a shuttle to the ship.
Istanbul
I woke up just before seven feeling as though I had the flu but the view as we came into port at Istanbul was enough to get me out of bed. We saw a row of famous buildings visible from the waterfront. The Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sophia and the Tekpaki Palace. At 8.30 precisely we walked down to our shuttle bus and were on our way to the Bazaar in Istanbul. First stop for us was the Underground Cistern (Yerebatan). Apparently it was used in a scene from “From Russia with Love”, a James Bond movie. We were lucky to be there before the crowds and we enjoyed the strange music playing as we walked along the boardwalks. It was used as a water storage facility from 532 AD until the 16th Century and restored in the mid 20th Century. The columns come from different Roman structures. There are two Medusa heads used as column bases, one upside down and the other sideways. Whether this has any significance or was just a useful bit of stone is unclear.
Across the road was the Hagia Sophia. I learnt about this building in art history at high school and to actually see it was exciting. It was constructed in 537 AD and was a Christian church for 916 years. When the Ottomans conquered Constantinople, the church became a Muslim mosque for 481 years. Now it is a museum, opened in 1935 after extensive restoration ordered by the enlightened leader Mustafa Attaturk. The lime covering on the Christian mosaics was removed so once again they could be viewed. (Note: Since 2020 it is once again a mosque.)
While waiting in line we were approached by a carpet seller. This was a common occurrence throughout the day. They were invariably cheerful and all seemed to have an Australian wife and a cousin in Wollongong. In the Hagia Sophia we walked up to the top gallery and looked down below. This area was reserved for women during services as a Muslim Mosque and maybe when it was a Roman Christian church as well.
The Blue Mosque, although free, took a while to access because of the long queue. I had taken the scarf off John’s suitcase so I could wear it over my head but found the majority of people had no scarf or if they did just draped it around their shoulders. I got that wrong (or did they?). The ceiling was amazing but the crowd was dense so we didn’t stay long. The mosque was constructed in 1609-1616. It has 21,042 blue, green and white tiles in the interior and six minarets.
The Topkapi Palace was last on our list and I was really looking forward to it. Begun in 1475 it was extended and extended until it was abandoned in the 19th Century. It is twice the area of the Vatican but has been constructed around large squares and gardens so has a lot of open space. The Imperial Treasury houses consist of four rooms in all with a decorated throne at the entrance to each one. Some of the exhibits included the Topkapi Dagger and the Spoon Maker’s Diamond.
Next Day
With half a day to see more of Istanbul we opted to walk around the port area and explore. We saw a sign which said “Tunnel’ but as it had trains we didn’t go in. John was keen to see the fishermen on the Galata Bridge so we watched them pulling in heaps of tiny fish which they put in jars and containers. There were also some larger mullet. There would have been 200 people fishing on the bridge with a gap in the middle to let boats through. The Galata Tower was my object as it was visible from most vantage points. We walked up steps and down hills and up more hills until finally we found it. Had we taken the Tunnel we would have been there in minutes. It connects the district of Galata with the district of Beyoglu. The subway is the shortest in the world and is only 750 metres long.
The Galata Tower is 61 metres tall but is also on top of a hill. There are supposed to be 143 steps or a lift but we used the lift and I counted 60 steps on top of that. At the top we had quite a good view of the Bosphorus, the Golden Horn and the Sea of Marmara. Its claim to fame was when a scientist named Celebi jumped from the top and flew to the other side of the Bosphorus Strait, using the wings he had invented.
After an expensive coffee outside the tower we continued to walk until we reached Istiklal Street. We came to this via the Jewish Quarter which had security guards at each end and made us a little nervous. The Tunnel came out here and was met by an old-fashioned tram which was full of people so we didn’t get on. The street was lined with embassies, Russian, Swedish and Danish, a number of Christian churches and luxury hotels.
Ephesus
We woke up today feeling confident as we had a pre-booked tour with Ephesis Shuttle. Our guide Melissa was holding a sign that read “John Curry”. It was certainly nice to get into our air conditioned Mercedes Benz van and be whisked off to Ephesis in comfort. Once there Melissa stayed with us and talked about the various sites as we walked. The highlight for us was the Terrace Houses which are now under permanent cover and have been unearthed from the hillside. The walls are covered with frescoes which were being revealed as we watched. It was quite thrilling to see people in action working on the walls.
On the way back we visited the Temple of Artemis which is only a column but was once one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.
Behind it is a monastery which used the Temple of Artemis as a source of building materials. I was excited to see it because I had read about it as a child. This is what it once looked like. It was more than twice the size of the Parthenon.
Attribution: Zee Prime at cs.wikipedia.
Mikonos
Today was a beautiful blue and white day. Blue sky, blue sea and white buildings. A blast from the past for John. From the time we pulled into the pier which did not exist in ’69 John was comparing and noting changes. He didn’t recognize anything until the shuttle bus took us around to the drop off point, a five-minutes walk from the town. He was pleased to see the toilet block over the water was still there although now it has flush toilets which no longer empty into the sea and the little old lady no longer stands there collecting money from the visitors.
After a walk through the maze of streets we passed through to the other side of the town where we saw a row of windmills. Now no longer in use as windmills, some are private residences and shops. John was surprised at all the shops and cafes. They were all private homes with families when he was here last. In the past some had rooms to rent but the ubiquitous display of postcards, souvenirs and T-shirts showed how much the island had changed.
Past the windmills we finally came to John’s beach where he slept on the sand in his sleeping bag in 1969. The taverna where he ate was still there although the staff were new and young. We had two capucchinos and two enormous pieces of baklava.The beach had a few pebbles but the water looked inviting so we took turns to have a swim. We were able to change in the Taverna and use their day beds and umbrellas.
Herculaneum
This morning we spent packing as we did not have to leave the ship until 12.45. The ship was very quiet as most people had gone ashore on the long trips to Sorrento and Capri. We finally gathered in the Equinox theatre before going ashore on one of the ship’s life boats. Then it was into a bus and off to shock, horror, a cameo factory. Once back on the bus we were held up for another half hour!!!! There were three American ladies who must have been buying out the shop. They finally appeared looking quite unperturbed. A few people were muttering that they had spent an hour and a half seeing nothing but finally we were on our way and pulled into a carpark shortly after, at the foot of Mt Vesuvius.
As the day progressed the mountain became clearer and the huge crater in the middle of it became apparent. We looked down on Herculaneum from ground level. The city was covered with molten pyroclastic rock to an average thickness of 16 metres. Unlike Pompeii, wooden and other organic based materials were carbonized and preserved. There are a number of two-storey buildings and vivid mosaics. Much of it is still buried below the modern town of Ercolano.
As Vesuvius erupted people rushed to the shoreline on the edge of the city to escape in boats but they were killed by the high temperature of the blazing clouds exploding from the volcano. Their remains have been found in the boathouses along what was the water’s edge, now about a kilometre from the sea.
Having visited Pompeii in 1998 I enjoyed seeing Herculaneum even more, but then I am absolutely fascinated by the whole story of the eruption of Mt Vesuvius in 79 AD.
Our voyage had come to an end and lived up to all expectations. We would definitely go on another cruise.
An annual event which we rarely miss is the Caravan Camping Holiday Supershow at Rosehill Gardens Racecourse in Sydney. In 2009 it attracted 80,000 visitors and displayed the latest caravans, motorhomes, camper trailers and accessories. Included in the 400 exhibition stands was information on destinations and holiday parks around Australia.
Our aim was to buy a caravan. We were selling our A’van, also inspired by the same show nine years earlier and moving on to something more comfortable. Our requirements were simple, we thought. It should be no more than 20 feet long as it had to fit in a small space in our back yard. As an aside, we seem to talk about caravan length in feet, even though we have been metric for nearly fifty years. It had to be light enough to be towed by our Toyota Prado. It also had to be self-contained, with its own bathroom, so that we could free camp when necessary. We also thought semi-offroad would be desirable for gravel and dirt roads.
We visited all the well-known caravans on display and found to our annoyance that not one caravan fitted the bill. The biggest problem was weight. The heavier suspension required to make a van even semi-offroad took it over the 2.5 tonne limit when fully loaded.
After a day of looking inside and under vans our heads were spinning. We were going to give up and go home when my husband said, “Let’s go and have another look at the Lotus.”
I must admit we were both smitten by the way it was decorated and that is what drew us back. The only downside was the conventional leaf spring suspension. However, we could have the van raised 2 inches in the build and larger tyres added so that we had extra clearance.
The van was beautiful. It was called an Uptown because it was just that bit more luxurious than most vans. It was only 19 feet long but in that space was a shower, sink, toilet and washing machine across the back. Café seating in leather and a fold-out table on one side faced a sink, gas stove and row of cupboards on the other. A full-sized fridge with separate freezer stood opposite the door and finally at the front a queen-sized bed sported a striking duvet cover. Presentation certainly sells a van. The windows were large and used a system of fly-screens attached to block-out shutters covered by slimline venetian blinds. The cupboards were light honey coloured, smooth and curved, reminiscent of a past era and yet looking surprisingly modern.
The show van that captured our attention
There were three points to attach a TV, including one outside, an air conditioner in the ceiling, a Four Seasons hatch and a Heki hatch. The bed lifted up with gas struts to reveal a large storage area underneath. Outside, at the front, was a tunnel boot which meant the overall length of the van was kept to a minimum.
So many choices to make
We found ourselves signing the paperwork at the end of a long day, just as everything was closing. Had we made the right decision?
We were in for a long wait of five months while our caravan was built. The Lotus factory is in Campbellfield in Victoria, 800 km south of our home. However, the caravan dealer at the show was in Tweed Heads, 900 km to the north. We could have cancelled the order and reordered it in Victoria, but decided it would still be chilly when the caravan was ready so heading north was a better option.
Five months later we loaded the Prado with everything we thought we needed for the van and drove north. The first night we stopped at a motel in Coffs Harbour. The following night we settled into a cabin at a caravan park in Tweed Heads. A quick visit to the dealer to check on our new purchase before handover the next day rang some alarm bells.
The checker plate along the side was a narrow strip instead of the wide strip we had ordered.
The dealer was all concern. “I’m sure we can get that changed.”
The outside door kept sticking and finally a piece broke off the top.
“We’ll put another door on before tomorrow!”
John was disgruntled about the checker plate but it didn’t worry me at all. I was nervous about remembering all there was to know about the new van as it was much more complex than our little old A’van.
Next morning we turned up with the Prado for its introduction to the Uptown. We would be using Hayman Reece Weight Distribution Hitches which required a special towbar. The car also had to have an electric brake controller added. We also bought a Trail-a-Mate jack to support the van when not attached to the car.
Off we went to the caravan park. John expertly manoeuvred it into its space and we attached power cords, water hoses, drain hoses, wound down the supports and extended the awning. I made up the bed and filled the fridge and the cupboards. As I turned some lights on we decided to have a celebratory drink before preparing dinner on our first night.
That’s funny. The lights are getting dimmer. Oh no! There are no lights at all!
Fortunately we had the phone number of the dealer, who by now was at home. He promised to come around early in the morning. In the meantime, the thought of cooking in the dark was not appealing as our spirits were by now very low, so we put the fridge on gas and went out to a club for dinner.
The next day the dealer replaced the battery charger and all was well. I had learnt something new. Even if we were plugged into electricity, the lights would not work if the battery was flat.
Our woes were not over yet. Later that same day I found water leaking under the sink. The drain hose had a hole in it. Another phone call to the dealer and he was there within minutes. Apparently, the drain had been tied too tightly and split the pipe.
What else could go wrong, we wondered? Another few days and we started to relax. So much so that we took off for new pastures without any more mishaps.
On the road at last
Over the years we have made a few changes to the van, just as you might to a house and its contents. We always found the bed a bit short and a bit hard. We had the bed base extended so that we can add a piece of foam when it is pulled out. We also bought a foam overlay so now it is as comfortable as the bed at home.
A very comfy bed
Driving out to Lawn Hill we encountered a corrugated road which shook us pieces so we wondered what would greet us when we opened the door. The fold up table had come away from the wall but otherwise nothing was damaged.
Over time we have changed most of the lights to LED. The microwave and washing machine were both replaced in the last five years. We had a scare with the gas stove which had exploded in a couple of other vans. We were told not to use it and turn the gas off. Then we were told we could use it except for the front left burner. Finally, we were told we were OK. The ban did not affect our model.
Cooking with gas
A recent improvement was the addition of a diesel heater. Some people install their own but as we are retired schoolteachers, not engineers, we preferred to leave it to the experts. Now, with our movable solar panels, gas fridge and hot water and diesel heater we are equipped to camp away from civilization, electricity and amenities. It is also useful when a caravan park is fully booked but may have some unpowered sites. No more cold nights, shivering and unable to get warm.
When is a van too old? Uptown Girl is now 14. She has been well maintained so hopefully has a few years in her yet. We certainly don’t plan to buy another van or a motorhome so she will have to last as long as we do. I wonder what happens to old caravans? I know some end up on properties, covered with a tarp and providing accommodation for itinerant workers. There must be caravan graveyards where it would be possible to find spare parts. Most caravans in Australia use a lot of the same products for windows, doors, air conditioners, stoves, hatches etc. In the end, it is the plastic parts that go. They just start to crumble from too much sun. I’m thinking of the exhaust hatches in the bathroom which must be cleaned very gently.
At the moment there are 109 Aussie built brands and six imported. How they can all stay in business beats me but in 2017 there were 20,000 caravans a year being built and now it could be more. The waiting time for a new van can be over a year and the difficulty acquiring imported parts has everyone longing for the days when everything was made in Australia.
Lotus are now known for their rugged off road vans which are bigger, heavier and more expensive than ours. They have an annual get together in Queensland where they all camp for a week and share ideas and the latest developments. It’s not really our thing but I like to keep in touch with their Facebook page and monitor the questions and answers posed by other owners. It has a policy of no undue criticism of the brand to avoid becoming a whinge fest. Instead owners talk about their experiences, give travellers tips and offer advice when asked.
We have been fortunate that we have been able to travel extensively since retirement, so choosing one place that stands out above all others is hard. I think my choice of Provence is a combination of ancient buildings, beautiful scenery, fascinating history, perfect weather and wonderful food and wine. What more could you ask for? Oh, and staying for a whole week in an amazing 300 year old house!
Imagine a long train journey across France, arriving at Avignon in pouring rain on a Sunday afternoon, picking up a rental car and driving on the “wrong” side of the road to nearby St Remy. Feel the relief mixed with alarm when we are ushered into a very old building with a strange musty smell, the water dripping off our clothes onto the blue and white tiled floor.
Our host leaves us with a bottle of wine, milk and a stack of fuel beside a wood burning stove. Soon we have the fire going and are making inroads into the bottle of wine. However, we have no food, so, seeing that the rain has eased we venture out into the street. Alas, every store appears to be shut. Finally, we find a charcuterie where we can buy terrine, pate, smoked salmon, tiny tomatoes, cheese and crispbreads. Oh, and a bottle of Minervois red wine.
Back at the house, with our feast laid out and a roaring fire, we suddenly feel our spirits rise.
The room was amazing, with a huge stone fireplace above which hung a large bull’s head. A corridor led to a windowless kitchen, lined with stone walls and filled with a huge green dresser and a large dining table. Worn stone steps with a rope railing led to the bedroom with a four-poster bed complete with a roof and curtains. On one wall was huge bookcase, the contents of which I studied carefully. Many of the books were in French or German but I found one in English called “Birdsong” by Sebastian Faulks, which was set around the time of World War One. How appropriate, I thought, as we had just been on a tour of the WW1 Battlefields in France and Belgium. Imagine my surprise when I found the characters Stephen and Isabella actually ran away to St Remy! When we left, the owner kindly gifted me the book as I hadn’t finished it.
Staying in St Remy was like living in a picture book. The grey stone houses with blue shutters were adorned with flowering purple wisteria. Bright pink Judas Trees added colour to the light green spring leaves behind which loomed the barren rocks of the Alpilles.
Nearby at the Monastere St Paul de Mausoleum where Vincent Van Gogh spent some time undergoing psychiatric treatment, masses of purple irises were blooming alongside reproductions of his paintings.
Roman ruins from before and after the birth of Christ stood largely intact. The Glanum Archaeological site was occupied from the 6th or 7th Centuries BC and became a Roman colony around the birth of Christ until 260 AD when Alamannic invasions forced the inhabitants to move to what is now the town of St Remy.
Wednesday was market day so we were up early to see the stalls being set up. The specialties of the region were lavender products, colourful ceramics, white asparagus which is in season and of course the local cheese, processed meat and pink rose wine. As the stores opened we tasted cheese and savoury things on bread and pieces of cake until we had filled our basket with goodies for lunch.
It was such a lovely sunny day that we didn’t fancy eating in our “cave”. The square opposite our front door was used as a car park but it had trees and was surrounded by ancient buildings so what better place to have a picnic. We dragged three chairs outside, brought out the baguette, the jars of pistou rouge and creme d’Ail, the olives and the cheese, two bottles of 1664 and two quiches warmed up in the oven.
I related to a quote in a newspaper article left by one of the previous visitors in our house.
It said, “One of the great pleasures of the siesta is that you wake up twice in the same day, and if it’s a good day and everything’s going right, then you get double the pleasure.”
Well, we enjoyed a nap after our busy morning, in our big, comfy four poster bed, looking through the open window at blue sky, stone buildings and fresh, spring green leaves on the trees before “a brief stretch of blessed afternoon oblivion”. (Thanks to Chris Stewart, The Mail on Sunday)
Tearing ourselves away from St Remy we drove to the villages of Gordes and Roussilon, perched on the top of steep hills and overlooking the valleys below. The Luberon is to the North East of St Remy in the Vaucluse area. After driving through green fields and about 400 roundabouts we began to climb steeply to the village of Gordes. Unexpectedly there was a huge crane in the middle of the medieval village. It was lowering rocks onto a building site which was most probably a renovation or repair. A number of trucks were parked in the street making it difficult to pass even on foot but despite all this the views were breathtaking between the stone houses and the castle built on the rock. The outlook would have been useful for spotting approaching armies or people up to no good.
The next perched village was quite different. Situated near ochre pits, Roissillon has a decided orange glow about it. Again it was high on a mountain top and we had to park before walking up the hill.
Our final town for the day, Goult, had been recommended by Stu Dudley on Trip Advisor, whose notes I was following. He said if he had to live in the Luberon that is the town he would choose. It is far from being touristy and had a calm and peaceful air. It was not as high as the other towns which is why it was probably in better condition. Here we had dessert and coffee before walking around the village and finding a windmill.
Although I had plans to continue the journey to Bonnieux (where Peter Mayle lived, of “A Year in Provence” fame), John said, “let’s call it a day.” He was probably right as trying to visit too many places at once means the last ones are not enjoyed.
Another day and another drive, we were at the Des Baux de Provence, a craggy, ruined castle atop a rugged cliff. The views from the fortification were impressive over beautiful Provence countryside. We climbed some very worn steps to the top after reading warnings to do this at our own risk. From imagining ourselves in Roman times at Glanum we now were in the 16th Century being attacked by Louis XIII because we dared to become Protestants. Huge catapults flung rocks against the stone walls of the castle until they crumbled and we were forced to surrender and flee to the marshy lands of the Camargue.
A longer drive to Longuedoc brought us to the 2000 year old UNESCO World Heritage Site of the Pont du Gard. It is surprisingly intact and even more surprisingly we were allowed to walk across it. Apparently by the 1990s it was full of tourist shops and rather tacky, but now it has been redeveloped, removing vehicular traffic and adding a museum. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Our week was nearly at an end but we had one more thing to look forward to, dinner at Maison Drouot. It was a ten minute walk from home out past the ring road. The building is an 1887 flour mill which used to have a water wheel and still features a rushing stream.
We decided on the Degustation with matching wines. We hadn’t eaten out in St Remy, choosing to cook in our rustic kitchen, so this was going to be a test of the best the town could offer.
Immediately after our arrival we ordered the champagne and almond cocktail. Olives and little loaves of bread appeared. With the same solemnity as if it were wine we were shown a bottle of some local olive oil which was ceremoniously poured in small plates and accompanied by delicious bread. Then came the amuse-bouche. On a bed of asparagus mousse lay raw fish, some roe and oyster flavoured mayonnaise.
Next a leek appeared, grilled to perfection with delicious little spots of sauce and a small pile of very strongly flavoured pasta. However, my favourite dish was asparagus, sweetbreads, onions and almond flakes with a scrumptious sauce. This was followed by tasty fish (halibut I think) with little shellfish. Finally a piece of guinea fowl appeared, accompanied by asparagus, artichoke, artichoke mousse, a cheese wafer and some delicious indescribable sauce.
Dessert was less memorable but the espresso coffee came with little egg like creations which were very tasty.
I won’t tell you what it cost but it met all expectations and we decided we could eat baguettes, pate and cheese for the next week to compensate.
What was it about this restaurant that made it so different to any others we have visited? It was the little dog nearby, perched on its owner’s knees, delicately eating from its own plate at the dining table. Only in France!
One of my favourite activities each year used to be planning an overseas holiday. I say used to be because I no longer have the confidence to risk such an undertaking. As “Novids” my husband and I expect any day to come down with the dreaded disease and can’t understand why we are in the 10% of the Australian population that hasn’t had it.
Not going overseas is definitely a First World problem. When I think of people in countries where bombs are raining down, or earthquakes are burying loved ones under rubble I feel ashamed for complaining. In my own country I look at people who have been flooded or burnt out in bushfires and think how lucky I am. So I’m not too bitter about not going … but it would have been a great trip.
The year of 2020 was to include a visit to Sicily followed by a gulet cruise (traditional small cruise ship) among the picturesque Croatian coastal islands.
Our ship the Anna Marija
In October of 2019 I paid the deposit on our seven day voyage from Dubrovnik to Split. The next step was to book a flight so I chose Qantas, with a two night stop in Dubai and a change of airline in Rome to fly to Catania in Sicily.
Once flights were booked I took out insurance in case the unthinkable happened and we couldn’t go.
How to get from Sicily to Dubrovnic? Further research found a bus we could take from Taorima to Bari on the mainland. From here we could sleep on an overnight ferry to Croatia. Over the next weeks I booked two nights in Catania, a week in Ortigia, three nights in Taorima and individual nights in Agrigento and Piazza Amorina. We would travel light and catch buses between the towns. By December I had booked two nights in Split for the end of our boat trip and two nights in Zagreb from where we would fly out to Dubai and finally back to Sydney.
A week in Ortigia was planned
Meanwhile the outside world had other plans. The 31 December 2019 was one of those days where the word “unprecedented” became part of the language. From across the Victorian border in Mallacoota all the way up the NSW coast bushfires destroyed people, towns, vegetation and wildlife.
Firefighters at work on the Currowan fire between Batemans Bay and Ulladulla (AAP Dean Lewins)
It seemed like it would never rain again. The air was thick with smoke.
Ovation of the Seas in New Zealand
On the 16th January we left Sydney Harbour with our daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren on the ship Ovation of the Seas. We were glad to escape the smoky air of coastal NSW and explore a tiny bit of New Zealand from the ports of Dunedin, Picton and Wellington and view the Sounds. We returned to the still smoky Sydney on the 24th January. The next day the first confirmed case of Corona Virus in Australia was identified in Victoria in a man recently returned from Guandong, China
On Feb 5 I wrote the Corona Virus is spreading. I hope it has settled down by June. There are people stuck on a Princess ship off Japan as there is Corona Virus on board. Imagine being trapped on a ship in a cabin, especially one without a porthole!
From the 7th February the word unprecedented no longer applied to bush fires. Now it was floods and storms. Dams were overflowing, people were being evacuated from flooded houses, powerlines were down. The word catastrophic was used regularly. At least the bushfires were well and truly out.
On 17th Feb we heard the people on the ship off Japan were being evacuated. The Australians coming home would be in quarantine in Darwin for two weeks. Our daughter was worried about her proposed trip to Thailand. For the first time it occurred to us it could even affect our trip to Europe. Maybe it would be all over by June?
John’s brother and his wife were to fly to Africa in two weeks to begin a cruise through the Suez Canal and Mediterranean. On the 1st March John rang his brother to see if he was still going. We began to wonder if we would ever see them again as they were determined not to cancel. The cruise was to finish in Venice which was by now a hotbed of Coronavirus.
A week later we made a decision. It looked like our plans were scuttled as Corona Virus spread far and wide. I checked to see what could be cancelled and found some accommodation was refundable. I wasn’t sure about the flights. They were bought on sale so I had my doubts.
On the 8th March I wrote I’m feeling sad about the European holiday but resigned as well. Tomorrow I will ring Qantas. I will try to get a refund on the airfares. Then I will do the accommodation. There is also the flight from Rome and the ferry trip to Dubrovnik…
That same day the ship, Ruby Princess, left Sydney for New Zealand. On the 19th March it returned, disgorging its 2,600 passengers into taxis, trains and airport buses. They were infected with Covid and spread it far and wide as some returned to homes interstate and overseas.
Italy imposed a lockdown March 9. On 11th March I wrote, Italy is now closed off to tourists because of the Virus. It is estimated to hit Australia with a vengeance in a week.
My daughter and son-in-law celebrated their 40th birthdays at the Rose Hotel in Chippendale. It was to be our last family gathering for many months.
The government announced on 15th March that everyone returning from overseas would have to do two weeks quarantine. John’s brother and his wife had flown to Mauritius, decided against boarding the cruise ship and flown home again, just in time to avoid quarantine. They decided to lie low at home for a couple of weeks as a precaution.
All school excursions have been cancelled as well as after school activities. There is even talk that school might be cancelled too!
Then on 16th March something happened that was completely unexpected. John woke with numb fingers and was diagnosed with a transient ischemic attack (TIA). It was a mini stroke, in his case leaving no permanent damage.
The ## March was my daughter’s birthday. It was also the day of her father’s carotid endarterectomy (removal of plaque from the carotid artery) and the first day of home schooling. Just as well she had celebrated her 40th earlier in the month.
John recalls looking out the hospital window at the Ruby Princess tied up at Port Kembla. It was just marking time with its 1400 strong crew stranded in limbo.
At the hospital the medical staff were busy preparing John’s ICU for the expected influx of Corona Virus patients. They were stressed and distracted by the enormity of what lay ahead. He was glad to get out of there.
When we arrived home we heard our son (a computer programmer in Canberra) was in one half of the building that was sent home indefinitely. Presumably the other half were expected to spread out in the extra space. The grandchildren had their last day at school as it was optional but highly recommended to stay home if possible.
That afternoon the Aqua Joggers linked up on Zoom in preparation for an 8 o’clock exercise class three times a week. We all had fun talking to each other. It helped us survive several lockdowns and adjust to a limited lifestyle.
That all seems so long ago. We were able to get refunds from some of our accommodation and the ferry trip. Qantas eventually refunded most of our airfares. Our insurance covered the rest except for the gulet. Every year Goolets Yacht Charters asks if we are ready to rebook our boat trip in Croatia. They wouldn’t refund us our deposit so it is still there waiting for us. At first the thought of catching Covid while overseas was the biggest deterrent but now the long uncomfortable flights in economy class and the possibility of illness in a foreign country are enough to convince us “there’s no place like home”. That’s not to say we won’t change our minds. Never say never.
When I was still teaching and my husband was retired, we referred to ourselves as “the Grey Nomad and the Brown Worker”. A Grey Nomad is the term used to describe someone, usually with a caravan, camper or motorhome, who travels around Australia with the purpose of finding new places, meeting new people and generally leaving the worries and cares of home behind. As a teacher, I was limited to school holidays, generous as they are, but towards the end was able to take advantage of that wonderful invention, Long Service Leave.
It was only with my retirement, however, that we could contemplate spending months at a time away from home.
Lawn Hill, Queensland
In the USA there is a term “Snow Birds” describing the habit of people in the cold north descending on Florida during the winter. We have something similar, with hordes of caravanners heading north from Victoria and NSW to the sunshine state of Queensland. They are sometimes known as “Mexicans” because they cross the border and stay for months at a time once they are warm enough. Some occupy the same spot in the same caravan park year after year, meeting up with friends and warming their aging bones in the sun.
Bitter Springs, Northern Territory
Where we live in Wollongong is not cold compared to Britain, Northern Europe or North America but because of our in-between climate our older houses are not as well insulated or heated as our Northern Hemisphere counterparts. The attraction of warmer weather calls us north every winter with the proviso that we want to experience something new every time.
That might mean doing “The Big Lap”, driving 15,000 kilometres around Australia and stopping to experience all that is interesting along the way. This requires a bit of juggling to find the best time of the year for each part of the country. No-one in their right mind would head to the “Top End” in the summer, but a winter start means waiting until spring before heading south down the West Australian coast, not only to see the wildflowers but to avoid the wintry weather in Perth and crossing the Nullarbor. Since we experienced cold nights while free camping in the last part of our “Big Lap” we have installed a diesel heater. Now we can go anywhere at any time, regardless of the weather. Except where it’s too hot, of course!
Champagne Pools, K’gari, Queensland
Even staying close to the Queensland Coast can be varied year by year. I’ll never forget staying in Hervey Bay and taking a day trip to K’gari (also known as Fraser Island). The four-wheel drive held six people and roared along the beaches, depositing us in the magical Champagne Pools and pristine perched lakes. Or there was the day trip we took last year to Lady Musgrave Island where we snorkelled with turtles and investigated the habitat of shearwaters and boobies. One year we stayed in Finch Hatton, driving into Eungella National Park and spotting a live platypus in the Broken River. It was the first time I had seen one in the wild as they are notoriously hard to find. Sometimes we have taken the kayak on the roof and explored the waterways at the Town of 1770 or paddled off Airlie Beach.
Maroochydore, Queensland
Turning in the other direction, to the south, we once crossed Bass Strait in the Spirit of Tasmania, boat and van snugly stowed below decks, to explore the small but fascinating island.
“Only a month!” cried fellow vanners. “You need two or three to see it properly!”
Alas, our first grandchild was expected within weeks and we weren’t missing out on that!
Southern Tasmania
Travelling through the centre of Australia is the other extreme. You can drive for hours and see very little change in the landscape. To become excited at the sight of a service station or country pub shows how little there is to see. But then you come across something wonderful. It might be Uluru (Ayers Rock), Kata Tjuta, Kings Canyon or the West McDonnell Ranges. The majesty and beauty of these places has to be seen to be believed.
West McDonnell Ranges, Northern Territory
Travelling such long distances requires the right frame of mind. Some people find it boring. We tried listening to audio books but find them hard to hear with all the road noise. I usually plan the day and night stops, the coffee and lunch breaks, and John decides just how far he can drive. I have only driven with the van in tow a few times. Dealing with fast travelling road trains and bad roads, with over two tonnes on the back, is a job I gladly hand over to my husband. In the case of an emergency I would unhook the van and leave it for the insurance company to look after.
As we get older the driving becomes more tiring. Last year I planned a trip north with less than 200 kilometres a day of driving and stops of four or five days in each place. Turning around after a week in Townsville my husband broke all distance records as he sensed home was within reach. So much for not being able to handle long distances!
Sir Leo Hielscher Bridge or Gateway Bridge, Brisbane, Queensland
Some Grey Nomads sell their home to fund their van or motorhome, expecting to live on the road for the rest of their lives. This can be a problem if and when ill health arrives. I would want some land, or maybe a small unit as a base for medical treatment if needed. It could be making an income for you while travelling.
Owning a caravan is not necessarily the cheapest way to holiday. Apart from the purchase price there is maintenance of car and van, registration, insurance and annual service and inspections. As a van gets older there is usually something to repair, just as in a house. As for tyres, the car and van total 10! Caravan Park fees are going up, especially in desirable beachside locations in peak season. The price of petrol and diesel has gone up enormously since we drove all the way around the country in 2015. The number of vans on the road has increased since Covid kept people from flying overseas and consequently caravan parks are often booked out. Free camping where one is completely self-contained and self-sufficient can be aided by the used of an online app called WikiCamps Australia and the free campers bible Camps 12 (each new version has a number). This is an increasingly popular option but as people search for more out of the way places to camp they require off-road caravans, which in turn require sturdier suspension, weigh more and cost more. The towing vehicle needs to be upgraded to a larger, heavier more expensive vehicle.
Or you could do what we did in the Kimberley, Western Australia. Leaving the van in Kununurra at a caravan park we took our camping fridge and a two man tent to explore some of the Gibb River Road and camp at El Questro Station. That was an experience!
Camping at El Questro, Western Australia
Just writing about the nomad life makes me keen to work on our next trip. So far we have booked some van parks on the Queensland coast but then we will head inland, go to places where we’ve never been and who knows what we will find?
On previous visits to England we visited the homes of Jane Austen, the Bronte Sisters and DH Lawrence. This time (2012) our plan was to explore the countryside made famous by Thomas Hardy’s novels. We decided to stay near Dorchester where the novel The Mayor of Casterbridge is based.
Just before our arrival in Dorchester we noticed the figure of a man carved on the hill in chalk. He is known as the Cerne Abbas Giant and his origins are uncertain. Some believe he represents the Roman god Hercules and is over 1500 years old. Others say it is a caricature of Oliver Cromwell and is only about 350 years old. It is one of three white figures cut into chalky hillsides, the others being the Long Man of Wilmington in East Sussex and the Uffington White Horse in Berkshire.
In Dorchester we found the building reputed to be the home of the Mayor of Casterbridge in Hardy’s story of the same name.
To reach Thomas Hardy’s birthplace we took a ten minute walk through woodland from the National Trust car park in Upper Bockhampton . Hardy’s father was a builder and stonemason and Hardy in his early years was an architect. After five years working in London he returned to this house because of failing health. This is where he wrote Under the Greenwood Tree and Far from the Madding Crowd.
Hardy’s birthplace
We then visited Max Gate, the house Hardy designed himself, built by his father and brother. Here he wrote Tess of the D’Urbervilles and Jude the Obscure (known as Jude the Obscene at the time) as well as lots of poetry. The National Trust have taken over both houses and it was only recently (before 2012) that tenants had moved out. Max Gate is a huge contrast to the thatched cottage and is a very comfortable “town home”.
Max Gate
On the recommendation of the B&B owners we drove to The Saxon Arms at Stratton for some tasty sailfish on a bed of green weeds.
After another huge English breakfast where we chatted to a couple here for the trout fishing (or at least he was as she was about to hit the shops), we set off for Plymouth via the Jurassic Coast. As we were driving we saw a sign to Chesil Beach so turned in along the three quarter mile track. The size of the shingle varies from as big as oranges at the Portland end to the size of peas at the West Bay end. It is said that in days of old smugglers could tell exactly where they were when they landed on the beach by the size of the pebbles. If you’ve ever read “On Chesil Beach” by Ian McEwen you might remember this was something the two main characters planned to investigate before fate stepped in.
We bypassed Exeter and drove around the edge of Dartmoor Forest. I couldn’t see any forest. It was all rolling fields, hedges and stone walls. Our Sat Nav brought us directly to the Premier Inn we had stayed in eight years ago. It is right in the middle of Plymouth and across from the Barbican, accessed by a swing bridge. The Barbican area consists of several streets which retain the character of the original fishing town as much of Plymouth was bombed to pieces in the Second World War.
After grabbing a quick lunch near our accommodation we dropped the car off at the Hertz depot. John discovered he’d had a dodgy prawn so what should have been an enjoyable exploration of Plymouth became a rush to get back to the safety of our room.
We did manage to explore the waterfront and read the sad story of Raleigh’s Lost Colony, an early settlement in America which vanished between 1587 and 1590. Also saw the plaque to the Mayflower in 1620. So long ago!
I left him resting and went off to find dinner, avoiding the dodgy prawn place. The Barbican was shaping up for a busy Saturday night with people dressed to kill disappearing up narrow laneways into interesting looking night spots. I found what appeared to be a safe haven for a lone female at The Thai House and had a very tasty Pad Thai with a glass of white wine.
Fortunately John was well enough to sail across the Bay of Biscay to Spain the following day.
You might think that after living in England for twelve months in 2004 I might have seen enough to last me a lifetime but when an invitation arrived in 2011 for a Cotswold wedding in the following spring we didn’t have to think about it too long before accepting.
Leaving Sydney at 6.00 am we flew a total of 24 hours with a brief stop in Dubai. It was 10.35pm when we found our bed in a Premier Inn at Heathrow. It had been a long day.
Of course we had to visit our former home in Chasetown, Staffordshire. It was good to catch up with Carol, the exchange teacher, admire her new kitchen and note the changes in the area. It was also wonderful to meet up with her parents who had been so kind to us. Dinner had been booked by Carol at 1709 Brasserie in Lichfield. The building dated from the 1500s and had black beamed ceilings and lots of character.
Next day we were on our way in our hired Ford Focus. It was bliss to travel the countryside knowing I didn’t have to go back to work next week, next month or ever again.
The first port of call was Whaddon where some of my ancestors had lived before emigrating to Australia in the 1860s. I wanted to find the church where the family was married, christened and buried. I couldn’t find any headstones with the names Ridgway or Colton but a local woman gave me the key to the church which was built in the 12th Century, so I stood in there and tried to imagine what life would have been like in this village one hundred and fifty years ago.
Keys to the Whaddon Church
John was keen to see Bletchley Park where the breaking of the code for the German Enigma Machine took place.
The tour begins at Bletchley Park
We joined a one-and-a-half-hour tour of the buildings which explained how the Enigma Code was cracked and showed us replicas of the machines which were able to do this – the Bombe and later The Colossus. The latter was arguably the first ever computer. Unfortunately the originals were scrapped at the end of the Second World War.
A reconstruction of Colossus
Heading south we arrived at the Three Cups in Stockbridge around four o’clock and walked along the High Street. Tourists from London come here frequently for the fishing and the country air and the shops and cafes cater for them accordingly.
The Three Cups, Stockbridge, Hampshire
Extract from diary
I am sitting on the bed in our 15th Century Coaching Inn called the Three Cups in Stockbridge, Hampshire. The Cups are actually streams which run under the main street. The floor of our room veers in all directions. The walls are white with black framework oak beams leaning at odd angles. The ceiling is low on both our top floor and below so that the building looks quite squat. Up until now I haven’t mentioned the food because there was nothing much to say but tonight it was worth talking about. John had a pigeon on nettles entree with a red and a brown sauce. I tasted some and it was very good. We both had local trout with leeks and potatoes with a bowl of fresh vegetables – brilliant. We shared a plate of three citrus desserts. This was washed down with a French Cabernet Sauvignon.
Our home for the next week was The Bakery Cottage at Ampney Crucis, near Cirencester. There was a very pretty stream flowing through the village (the Ampney), an old church and attractive gardens. Every building was built from warm, brown stone, there was no graffiti, no rubbish and in every direction the scenery was idyllic.
The Bakery Cottage (annexe to the main house)
The venue for the wedding (Cripps Barn) was perfect, nice and warm with heaters and a log fire. The ceremony was held in the large stone barn. Next to it was a new addition which had been sympathetically built to complement the original. This is where the tables were set for dinner. We had drinks on the terrace in the one burst of sunshine. The ceremony was short, the bride looked radiant and elegant, the speeches were entertaining and the meal of smoked salmon, lamb with couscous and raspberry tart was tasty. Guests danced away the evening in the stone barn, planning to regroup for lunch the next day.
Arlington Row
On Sunday morning we drove to Bibury, a picturesque village with a stream full of trout, a row of weaver’s homes called Arlington Row and the typical chocolate box houses of the Cotswolds. We then parked at the Barnsley Pub in readiness for the after wedding lunch, taking a stroll around Barnsley House where the bride and groom stayed the previous night. They happened to see Liz Hurley and Shane Warne walking out the door as this was a favourite watering hole of theirs.
Barnsley House
Extract from diary
On this visit to the Cotswolds we have been able to differentiate between the villages as they all have their own individual character. Nailsworth, on the way to our National Trust Mansion, Woodchester, is not one of the pretty towns although it is supposed to be “lively and artistic” and has the largest number of working water wheels per square mile in the country. We were underwhelmed, especially as it was cold and wet. The redeeming features was Hobbs Bakery. It was warm and cosy, the coffee was great and the hiker’s bar which we shared hit the spot.
Fortified for what lay ahead we drove into Nympsfield where two walkers directed us to the Woodchester Mansion car park, about two kilometres further on. Here we walked another mile (1.6km)
“along a rutted track through the trees, at last to come upon the huge stone building hunched against the hill”. (Tourist brochure)
Woodchester Mansion
Woodchester Mansion was begun in the 1850s but never finished. Because the interior walls were never lined the structure of the building can clearly be seen. There are no ceilings on the first or second floor and you can see fifty feet up to the roof. The owner ran out of money and died before he could complete the house. It is one of the most amazing structures I have ever seen.
Fireplaces in the mansion with no floors
We thought that as it was our last day in the Cotswolds we would revisit the Slaughters and Stow-in-the-Wold. Driving into Lower Slaughter we parked opposite Lower Slaughter Manor. At the front was a sign which advertised soup and sandwiches for two for 20 pounds. As we walked in I decided on my next visit to the Cotswolds (after I win the lottery) I will stay here. We were ushered into an elegant but comfortable sitting room with chess boards set up on tables and other games stacked on shelves. A seafood bisque with hot bread roll, a choice of salmon, tuna, chicken, cheese or ham sandwiches and coffee had me happy to stay there forever. Even the toilet was divine.
I have often wondered why we are expected to downsize when the children have left and we no longer go to work. I mean, we have spent our whole life working to achieve the ideal home subject to our financial limitations and then we are supposed to give that up, throw out half our belongings and move to something small and manageable.
It may have had something to do with the lockdowns during Covid, but two couples who are very good friends of ours made the move. Both sold their large houses on quarter acre blocks and moved to quite different retirement situations.
We visited Couple Number One in their new home. It was two and a half hour’s drive north of Sydney and situated in a village with the dubious title of having the oldest population in Australia. That said, it is situated in a beautiful area, with clean beaches, a large, protected bay and a river which leads to a series of lakes. Their home was spacious and well designed, with an outdoor area situated to capture the winter sun, overlooking grassy paddocks dotted with kangaroos. The over 55s resort has many desirable features. There is an indoor and outdoor swimming pool, gymnasium, bowling green, model yacht club with lake, library, theatre and as many group activities as the imagination would allow. True, there were no water views but many people owned boats and caravans and stored them on the property. The beach was accessible by car or riding your bike along the designated bike path.
Courtesy of Palm Lakes Resort
Driving home we looked at the negatives. Two things stood out in our minds. One was access to health care. Maybe it’s not such a problem at first but the older one gets the need to be close to specialists increases. In an emergency a helicopter could arrive at a nearby heliport and transport the patient to hospital in forty minutes. Conversely, where we live we can drive to the hospital in five minutes.
The other consideration was access to family. The extra time to visit the grandchildren would require planning. They could no longer come visit for a day or even a weekend. Our son’s travel time from Canberra would be doubled.
Then there were friends. Yes, they could come and visit. But how often would that happen? There would be plenty of new friends to make but would we want to have them living all around us?
Still, it was definitely an attractive option.
Couple Number Two opted to move to an established “Over 55” village near to their old home in northern Sydney. As a result they were able to keep all their existing contacts, friends and familiar places. They completely gutted the two-bedroom unit so that it boasts all new kitchen, bathroom, carpet and curtains. They also have a sunny courtyard with a small manageable garden area. Surrounded by lush gardens they have a swimming pool, a gymnasium and meeting area for communal activities. However, they miss the space and privacy of their former home and not having their boat and van in close proximity.
Could we actually part from our home of 45 years? We decided if we could find the right place for us we would do it.
Several Real Estate Agents were contacted and we agreed to go ahead with one who seemed to know the area well and was sure that the market was ready, with many Sydneysiders looking to move to the South Coast.
As we made a list of all our home’s assets we wondered if we could find anything to replace it. We discussed why we wanted to move. The garden was a lot of work. House maintenance was ongoing. The neighbourhood had changed because of proximity to the university. Many of the large older homes in our area were being rented to students so it had lost its sense of community. Each weekend was spent visiting possible new homes but nothing spoke to us. We were also cooling on the idea of an Over 55 Community with the financial implications and loss of freedom and space.
Relentlessly time marched on. The cypress pine floors were repolished. I removed the ancient curtains from the family room. We borrowed and bought boxes, wrapped all but essential possessions in bubble plastic and stored them under the house. We removed excess furniture and family pictures. A stylist visited with suggestions. Photographs were taken.
A large sign emerged on the front lawn. It was one week to the first Open for Inspection!
The agent rang. Someone wanted to visit immediately as they would only be in town one day. All right, we said and raced around making last minute adjustments.
Suddenly it was pouring with rain. Unbelievably, water dripped from the skylight over the kitchen sink. That skylight had been there for forty years and now it chose to leak!
The rain stopped and after a quick wipe to remove the evidence we exited the house and drove away for a well-earned coffee.
This was repeated every Saturday morning for the next few weeks without the torrential downpour, fortunately. Offers were made but our agent said to wait as our house was worth more. Then came the offer we couldn’t refuse. We decided we had come this far and felt ourselves irretrievably swept along a path of no return.
Alas, it was not to be. The buyer may have decided she might get it for a lower price if she waited for the auction so she rescinded her offer. By this time we just wanted to call off the whole thing and go back to the nice little comfortable life we had before. What were we thinking, selling our lovely home?
Seven hours on the market
On the night of the auction we were ushered into a little room with a closed circuit television so we could watch the proceedings in peace. A few properties sold or were passed in before ours came up. The auctioneer did a good job praising the street appeal, the proximity to university, Botanic Gardens, local village, the well-maintained house and gardens, but there was absolute silence. A vendor’s bid was placed but still there was silence.
It was over! John and I high-fived and drove home in a state of euphoria. Despite the agent’s pleas next day to leave it on the market another few weeks we were adamant. We were not selling.
It had taken the imminent loss of our home for us to realise how perfect it was for us. So the garden gets too much for us, we will get a gardener. While we have a boat and caravan, we will store them on our own land. I know the theory is you downsize while you are fit enough to do so because if you leave it too long it will become an unpleasant job for someone else.
On the other hand, why not continue living in a home you are pleased to come home to? The costs of hiring help and maintaining an older house can be balanced by the not inconsiderable costs of moving.
Life goes on. We did replace that skylight and had the roof cleaned, repointed and painted. We have re-stained the deck twice since the For Sale that didn’t happen and do battle with the garden which grows while you look at it in this wet, sub-tropical summer.
We have no plans to do anything different. For now.
I must admit I’m not a great cyclist. Flat, straight bike tracks are my ideal. I hate roads with cars, hills, narrow bridges, spirals, people walking in front of me and out of control children on bikes. I can’t stand up on my pedals and I do fall off occasionally. That said I still love to go for a bike ride. There is a lovely bike track from Wollongong to Bulli which follows the beaches and the ocean baths, but it can be very crowded, especially on weekends. We recently discovered a bike track which partly circumnavigates Lake Illawarra and ends at a delicious coffee shop. Best of all it is usually deserted.
On the Wollongong to Bulli bike track
However we do most of our bike riding when travelling in the caravan. In 2009 we bought two folding bicycles at Aldi and surprisingly they are still in good working order, fourteen years later.
The folding bikes near Mon Repos, Queensland
Most of the towns where we camp have their own cycle tracks but when we stopped at Tumbarumba we decided to do something different. There is a rail trail to Rosewood which is twenty-one kilometres long. As there were some hills, especially at the start, we hired e-bikes for the first time. The temperature rose to 30 degrees Celsius so we were glad to have help from the batteries. Finally reaching Rosewood we were gasping for a cold drink, a coffee and some cake but a blackout in the area meant that there was nothing open. We had to make do with our bottles of luke-warm water, muesli bars and an apple. The twenty-one kilometres home again was a breeze on e-bikes and the scenery of cows, hills and farms was good for the soul.
Our bike rides when travelling overseas have added a new dimension to our experience. Turning left across traffic in Hue, Vietnam with heart in mouth, riding along the outer wall of Xian in China (and crashing into my husband’s bike), experiencing Berlin (and hitting a kerb where again, I fell off), exploring the grounds of the Palace of Versailles, riding through vineyards and pretty villages in the south of France (where I found myself locked in the toilet at our lunch stop), and exploring the rice fields of rural Japan, were all memorable experiences.
Cycling in Japan
The closest I have felt to sheer terror had to be the 46 km (28 mile) bike ride down Mt Haleakala, a dormant volcano of 3,048 metres (10,056 feet) on the island of Maui in Hawaii. It was mostly downhill which sounds a piece of cake, but it is a very windy, twisty road as you might imagine. They put the inexperienced riders like me towards the front and the bigger, more experienced men like John at the back. The pressure was on to keep up the pace of 29 to 40 kph (18 to 25 mph) when my instinct was to brake, brake, brake! If we crossed over the centre line of the road we were told we would be put in the back of the truck. At the halfway point the front person gave up and retreated to the vehicle. We posed for some silly photographs which made it look like I was enjoying myself!
Posing for the camera in Hawaii
I was ignominiously placed at the front to be “coached” down the mountain. We arrived at the sea at Pa’ia and sat on the beach to calm down. It was one of those experiences that is better viewed in retrospect. I’m so glad I did it!
Cycling is something adults can do with their children and their grandchildren. From tiny bikes with training wheels ours all graduated to full sized adult bikes. When they were small the grandchildren would pedal short distances from one children’s play area to the next. Now we can’t keep up.
When I retired in 2006 we owned a beautiful trailer yacht called Blizzard. It was a Spider 24 meaning it was 24 feet long (7.3 metres) and was towed behind our Toyota Prado. It took us on many adventures, exploring the Gippsland Lakes, welcoming the year 2000 on Sydney Harbour as well as giving us endless fun on the many lakes and bays along the NSW coast.
Blizzard had many modern amenities. The retractable keel came up at the press of a button, there were two single bunks and a V-berth, a small galley with a spirit stove and sink as well a private portable toilet.
The disadvantages were that rigging was time consuming, the mast was difficult to raise and the lightweight sandwich foam construction meant that great care had to be taken launching and retrieving so as not to damage the hull.
As time went by we found we were using the caravan more often as the boat sat idle beside the house. We advertised it and soon it was heading out the driveway behind someone else’s truck. Did we have any regrets? Not really, as we were planning overseas trips and felt if we wanted to be on a boat we could hire one.
Years passed. Then the months of lockdown arrived. We couldn’t travel overseas, interstate or even out of our council area for a while. Idly flicking through boat ads I saw a familiar boat. It was a Noelex 25 and belonged to someone we knew. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look, would it?
Boat for Sale
Slightly bigger than our last boat, it was the Rolls Royce of trailer yachts in the 1980s. John used to fantasize about owning one but they were always too expensive. Forty years later it looks a little dated but is still very functional. The hull is solid fibreglass, the mast is relatively easy to raise and the roomy cabin features a combination fridge/freezer powered by two batteries and a solar panel permanently fixed above the stern of the boat. The only disadvantage over our last boat is the keel which takes 99 turns of a handle to be fully retracted.
A week later Offshore Account was parked neatly beside our house. Although I’m not a great fan of the name I doubt we’ll change it. Looking through the folder of paperwork that came with the boat I found snippets of information about its past. Built in New Zealand in 1983 it was originally called New York New York but was renamed after it made its way to Australia. For a time it sailed in the Whitsunday region before moving down to Brisbane where it roamed Moreton Bay. Our friend David had driven up to Queensland to bring it home to Wollongong. Now it was our turn to give it some new experiences.
The day we were to launch it on Lake Illawarra started well. David showed us many of the tricks of rigging peculiar to this class of boat and I took a number of photos so we wouldn’t forget. The mast was up, the sails were ready to raise, the motor was attached to the stern and we were ready to launch.
Just check the motor first. Oh, it won’t start! Just try again. Still won’t start. I think its flooded.
David was shocked. It had worked perfectly last time he tried it. He removed it from the boat and drove to a repair shop, returning empty handed. They were keeping it overnight. So all we could do was unrig the boat and drive it home.
Two days later we were on the water. The motor was working brilliantly. With the sails up and a gentle breezes blowing we felt we had made the right decision. The only problem was it took us two hours to rig the boat and nearly as long to retrieve it, unrig, clean the hull and flush the motor, put the sails in the bags, tie the boat straps on the trailer, connect the lights and drive it home.
Freedom on the water
Best to take the boat to a lake and stay for a week on board. Then we would only have to launch and retrieve once. The trouble is it rained, and rained. For months it rained. Sick of waiting for good weather we bit the bullet and picked a date. A good friend of ours would bring his Farr 6 and attempt to sail it single handed with a little bit of help from us.
The first thing that went wrong happened before we left. John ran through water on the path in scuffs, slipped and fell on his back. Although he didn’t seem to have sustained major damage he was stiff and sore for some time. The second problem was raising the mast on our friend’s boat. The mast step broke so he was destined to spend the week unable to sail.
Sunsets were peaceful on the boat
Despite all the problems we were soon motoring to our favourite sheltered creek in St Georges Basin. Alas someone was camped there in OUR SPOT! Further up the creek we tied to a tree, put up our large boom tent for the first time and cracked the first beer. Then it poured. All night.
Relaxing after a tough day
Our friend was worried about his trailer but after motoring back to Sussex we found we were the ones with a problem. We had left the passenger side window down and the car was drenched. Some kind person had tried to cover the window with a garbage bag but it didn’t help.
In year’s past we had always tied up to an unused jetty. However, we were chased off by someone who claimed it belonged to his rental. We were also chased away from a new unused jetty with fierce locals dialling their mobile phones and speaking loudly about two yachts tied up, and finished up under a big tree with a tricky climb ashore.
Jetties everywhere but no room for us
There were times when we were glad to be on the water. The sunsets with cloud filled skies were spectacular. We swam in the shallow water of the sand island. However the beaches showed the effects of flooding, with foam and driftwood spoiling the usually pristine sand.
Serenity at the sand island
Quite a few months later La Niña showed signs of abating. We planned for the grandchildren to experience what their mother had grown up with. Every school holiday our children had spent on the water, sleeping, eating and playing in the confines of the small cabin of an RL24. How we all survived none of us knows.
Lake Macquarie was the waterway of choice. It is a deep, magnificent lake just south of Newcastle. The launch at Styles Point was uneventful and we noted children jumping off a jetty into a netted swimming area. Perfect for the grandkids (and us, in the ensuing hot weather). My daughter rented a cottage on a hill overlooking the lake and our son relived his childhood by spending two days sleeping on the boat. It was a good combination of sailing, landing on deserted islands, eating at lakeside clubs and pubs and most important of all, showering at my daughter’s B&B.
Family ahoy!
Pumped with our success we invited sailing friends to accompany us on a one day sail on our local lake. Having other sailors on board made life easy for me. Eating fresh prawns on crunchy bread rolls, sipping a crisp white wine and admiring the Illawarra escarpment from a comfortable seat was a brief respite before the sails were raised and we were flying across the lake towards home.
I must admit that sailing is not as easy on our aging bodies as it used to be. Bruises and sore muscles, aching backs and stiff joints are part of the price we pay. I think of it as equivalent to a serious workout at the gym. There is an old joke that says the two best days in a boat owner’s life are the day they buy a boat and the day they sell it. Hopefully we will have a few more happy experiences before we decide to pass Offshore Account onto the next owner.
The Curry Apple Orchard 