Homes Is A Strange Country - Chapter 26

TWENTY SIX

A NEW CITY

     The following morning Florence sat on the edge of her bed flicking at her boots lying on the floor just beyond her reach. She was at a loss as what to do that day. She had woken early as normal and dressed herself, well almost, she still had to put on her boots and tie them up, but she felt a little unsure of what to do that day. Despite a good night's sleep she still felt tired. There seemed to be so much that she needed to do and the tiredness which had remained from the previous day had made her feel a bit lethargic, hence sitting on the edge of the bed kicking at her boots. From the staircase came the sound of Helena climbing up to the upper floor, Florence looked around to the bedroom door expecting her new landlady to enter. There was a pause and a tap on the door.

     'Florence, would you like a cup of tea? I’ve brought one up for you.' Florence rose from the bed and opened the door. Helena was stood there on the threshold with a cup and saucer in her hand, she held it out to Florence.

     'Thanks Helena,' she said, taking the cup from her and opening the door wide. 'Come on in, I’m just sat wondering what to do today' she said. The two women sat side by side on the edge of the bed looking out through the window overlooking the street. 'Looks like it could rain today,' Florence commented, looking at the clouds drifting across the sky.      'Could do' Helena agreed, 'But it might not after all. We sometimes get it like this at the start of summer. Hot and clear skies and then out of nowhere we get a long outburst of rain. Doesn’t last all that long, but it’s still wet though.' Helena paused to sip from her cup and then said, 'What is it that you have to do then?' Florence sipped from her cup, deep in thought for a moment.

'Well, there's so much for me to do before Thomas gets back. I need to find somewhere for us to live, get some furniture, buy some new clothes, all the clothes I have are a bit too heavy for the Australian weather, then I need to...' she paused and sipped again from the cup. She felt her throat constrict a bit and tears well up in her eyes. She blinked several times to remove the tears before continuing. 'I’m just not sure what to do first. I don’t want to make any mistakes for me and Tommy, it’s so important where we live, and I want to get it right.' She paused. Helena placed her hand on Florence’s hand which lay in her lap.

'You’ll be alright love,' she said. 'Don’t you worry yourself about it, it’ll all come right in the end. You wait and see. What you need to do is have a look in the papers, you'll see a lot of places to rent there. You can either live with someone else or rent the whole house for yourself. But there's no hurry yet is there? Why don't you give yourself a couple of days to look around and get to know the city a bit better first?' Florence nodded her head quietly at the suggestion and looked over the roofs of the buildings which she saw through the window. There were trees planted in some of the gardens and they had grown above the height of some of the lower houses, but not quite as high as the other larger buildings she could see. I don’t know anything, she thought. It’s all brand new and I know nothing at all. Tears came again to her eyes and she sniffed them back. Helena squeezed her hand, 'Not to worry love, you’ll find your way around without any trouble.' Florence nodded again and turned her head to try and see more of the landscape of the part of the city which lay beyond her window. There was a glimpse of the ocean in the bay which she could see, and occasionally a ship would pass by her view. She could make out the roofs of some of the large buildings which she thought she had seen the day before when she and Tommy had walked back from the ship at Circular Quay, but she couldn’t be certain. Everything was so new and strange to her. It felt like such a long time since the Persic had arrived, yet it was only one day.

'Now then young lady,' Helena said finally, 'You can’t sit here moping all day long can you? You need to be up and about and getting things done.' She rose from the bed and took Florence’s cup and saucer from her hand. 'Get your boots on and you and me will go for a walk down to see Mrs Macquarie’s chair. How does that sound to you?' She smiled down at Florence who sat with a puzzled expression on her face.

'Who’s Mrs Macquarie when she’s at home, and where’s she left her chair? Not in some junk shop is it? Florence asked, trying hard to raise her spirits.

'No! You daft thing. Mrs Macquarie, well, she was the wife of one of the early governors of New South Wales. Either that or his fancy woman.' She laughed and paused for a moment then continued. 'Whatever she was, Mrs Macquarie got herself a path made from their house on the Domain down to the point where she used to sit and watch the boats come and go. The early convicts made the path for her, and the chair, and she used to sit on it and take the sun, as you could if your husband was the governor, I suppose. Not much else for somebody like her to do in those days. Not like today, well, not much like today.' She paused and glanced absently around the room to see if Florence had made herself at home. It seemed she had. 'Anyway,' she continued, 'It’s a nice walk and you’ll get to see a lot of the harbour and I can tell you all about the things we can see from there.' Florence looked down on the floor for her boots and fished them out with her toe from beneath the bed and bent to put them on. 'I’ll be waiting for you downstairs when you’re ready,' Helena said and went downstairs to put the cup and saucer in the kitchen. Florence stood and straitened her hair in the mirror on the wall opposite the bed, took her short jacket from the hook behind the door, slipping her arms into the sleeves, and with a happier look on her face went downstairs to join Helena. She’s a good sort really, she thought, not as crackers as I thought she was. Still a bit strange though, but I’m sure I’ll be alright with her.

In the living room by the front door Helena was fixing her hat on her head, and half turned as she heard Florence come into the room.

'Fixed up then?' she asked, giving Florence a head to toe once over. Florence nodded her head and pulled the brim of the hat down over her forehead.

'Never thought I’d have to wear a hat to keep the sun off me head,' she smiled. 'It’s usually the rain in Lancashire you’ve got to be wary of.' Helena nodded her head in agreement and held open the door for Florence, who walked through and started to descend the steps on the outside of the house, whilst Helena locked the door behind them. She rattled the handle to make certain it was locked fast.

'Let’s walk up Butlers Stairs first,' Helena said, 'That way I can show you some of the shops on Victoria Street before we go down into the city.' Florence nodded her head in agreement and the two of them strode off down the street, turning shortly onto the steep stone rise of Butler Stairs.

By the side of the stone stairs were the sides and backs of buildings, built, so it appeared to Florence, after the stairs had been built, though she could not be sure. They reached down deep into the earth and soared above her head as they climbed, most of the back walls without any windows at all. It was this feature which made Florence conclude that these particular houses had been built after the stairs. After all, why would you build a house without any windows in the whole of the back wall unless that wall backed onto the side of the staircase, which effectively blocked any view you might have?  Florence counted the steps as she lifted her legs onto each step, but lost the count somewhere, so that when they arrived at the top of the stairs on Victoria Street, she was not sure if there were one hundred, one hundred and five or a figure something close to that. The one thing which she was certain of was that her legs ached when they did reach the top, and she was out of breath. They stopped by the side of a stone pillar at the entrance to the top of the steps and caught their breath before turning around in a complete circle to take in the view which now lay behind them over their home roof. Florence was suddenly startled when a large black and white bird took off from the upper branches of one of the trees now lower down than they were, a bird she had never seen before.

'What’s sort of bird is that?' she asked Helena.

'That’s a Magpie,' she replied, following the flight of the bird from the tree growing by the side of the stairs wall to one on the opposite side of Victoria Street. The two women watched its flight until it came to settle in the second tree.

'It’s not like an English Magpie though. Same colours but different size and markings, but it’s still called a Maggie,' continued Helena. The bird squawked as it landed in the branch of the tree which bounced up and down several times under the bird's weight. The houses below looked very solid and not at all like the ones which she was accustomed to back home in Bolton. Most of them had black tiled roofs, and the gable ends of those which had gable ends were painted white and were finished with square chimneys. As Florence turned her head round from Victoria Street to look once again over the roofs of the houses by the side of Butler Stairs, she was surprised again by the sight of a flock of perhaps twenty large white birds taking off noisily from the branches of one of the trees. The birds, as big as the Magpie, but white with a crest on the top of their heads circled around the tree once or twice, then flew off in the direction of the port.

'What were those?' she exclaimed, pointing in delight. 'They are beautiful aren’t they?'

'They're White Cockatoos. You see them a lot in the parks and out in the bush. You should see some of the other birds out in the bush.' She smiled at Florence’s obvious pleasure, who followed the birds in flight until they settled finally in a tree some distance away.

'It’s going to take some getting used to, all these new birds and things. They’re lovely though aren’t they?' she said. Helena nodded her head and started to walk up the hill along Victoria Street intent on educating Florence a little about the type of shops which she would be encountering during her new life in Australia. Much of what she would see was going to be familiar, but there were also Australian touches which Helena felt should be explained. She would do the explaining when they encountered the differences; in the meantime she intended they would enjoy the warm weather, and hoped that the rain would hold off for the remainder of the morning. The two young women walked up one side and then down the other side of the street, Helena stopping from time to time to point out to Florence the various differences in clothes, food, furniture and other things she felt were worthy of noting.

Florence was becoming bored with the things she was being shown and told Helena so, adding,

'Can we go and have a look at the Botanical Gardens what Tommy told me about? I can find out about shops and things any time.' Helena looked sideways at her, but realised she was not being rude, simply rather more forthright than she had expected from someone straight off the boat from England. More like someone who had been in the country for a few years, she thought. Helena nodded her head, the white brimmed hat on her head bobbing as she did so. Florence grinned cheekily at her and, taking her arm in hers said, 'Don’t go getting mad at me will you Helena? I didn't mean to be rude, I'm sorry. I just want to see everything, and do everything now, right away, this minute. Right?' Helena smiled at her enthusiasm and patted the arm resting on hers and guided it to shepherd her across the street back to Butler Stairs, this time to hop and skip down the steps, laughing as they struggled at times to keep their footing on the stone stairs.

All the way through Woolloomooloo they laughed and chatted like old friends who had been parted for too long and had much to catch up on, whereas, in reality they were both curious about each other, so they used the time to good advantage for them both to find out more, one about the other.      It turned out that Helena had been almost married once, to a Royal Naval man whom she met and loved in England where they had both lived. He had been posted, like Florence’s Thomas, to the Australia station, and once there had sent for her. Some months after he had left England she had paid her own passage out to the country. When she had arrived she discovered that he was shortly to be posted to the Home Fleet in England. Before leaving he had broken the news to her that he was not going to marry her, and then had simply left her, penniless, to fend for herself in Sydney. The months after had been physically and mentally devastating for her. At the time he left she had been aged twenty four, and for several months after, she had fought and struggled to create a life for herself. In the end she had rented the house on Brougham Street where she took in lodgers on a short term, and if she was sometimes lucky, a longer term basis. This had been her life for the past three years, and despite the sad times she had been through, felt no compulsion to return to her family in England. For her Australia was now home and would, she felt, continue to be her home for the rest of her life. Though her story was sad and had obviously affected her, Helena felt strong enough to continue in the country she now called home, and thought little of the man who had deserted her. If she did think of him, and there were times she still did, then it was more with a feeling of sadness than hate. He had been the one to give up a woman who would have made a good, loyal and honest partner for him. She was the one who slept well at night and was not tormented by her conscience, and the thoughts of ‘what might have been,’ or of the woman he had left behind. In many ways Helena was happy, and whilst there were times she thought of what life might have been like, she did not pine for him or the life she had been denied. As far as she was concerned, there was still time for her to be married, if she wished it. And that, for Helena, was the important point. If she wanted to get married, then she would do it, and it would be on her terms and not on the terms of a man who might wish to impose himself on her.

The Suffrage movement was growing in strength in England, but it ran even stronger in her new adopted home country, and had given her a strength she felt would not have been possible in the atmosphere of England, which she now thought of as claustrophobic and very parochial. The news that New Zealand had granted women the vote some time ago had helped to stir on the movement in Australia, and Helena was one who was keen to grasp all the opportunities it offered. She would do anything she wished if she wanted to do it. Nobody else would force her into doing it, or not do it if she didn't want to. Nothing was forbidden in this new land of hers, and everything was there to be taken. Helena would take it if she wanted.

'You know what the trouble is with men?' Martha suddenly asked. Florence shook her head wondering what was coming.

'No, go on. I'm sure you're going to tell me,' she replied.

'It's their brains,' she said, and paused. 'They are too far down their bodies for them to be any use.' Florence thought for a moment to consider what she had said, then the meaning came home to her and she blushed brightly.

'Helena!' she finally exclaimed. 'That's so rude!' Helena grinned broadly.

'True enough though,' she said. 'If their brains were in their heads they'd do a lot better. They seem to have two brains in their body's and one of them works harder than the other. Should be the other way round.' The two of them carried on walking in silence for a while.

Florence listened to her story as they walked arm in arm along the dockside, and then up the steep twisty path of the hill to the Domain. Florence knew of the Suffragettes, they were always in the news before she left England, and understood what it was they were seeking, but she had never considered before that their thoughts and ideas would impinge on her life; now it seemed, they would. The two women walked up the hill and along the paths of the Domain between small bushes which grew by the side of the gravel paths. More than once Florence was startled by the rising birds which flew out of the bushes, screeching strange calls. They laughed at each others’ reactions to the birds, and caught each other when they stumbled.

Helena's story had been upsetting for Florence when she ran it through again in her mind. The similarity to her own tale with the one Helena had told was too worrying. She hoped it would not have a similar ending. No, she thought, not my Tommy. He’ll come through, he won’t ditch me for someone else.

They stopped to rest on a wrought iron bench by the side of the path after a few minutes walk in the hot sunshine, and gazed out over what they could see of the city below and around them. The truth was that there was more to see behind them than in front as they sat facing the sea. The harbour in front and to the left and right was a bustling, fermenting, beautiful blue stretch of sea extending out as far as they could see. It's fingers stretched out into the centre of the harbour, sometimes offering them a view of something new, and other times blocking off the view of that part of the harbour. Helena pointed out and named for Florence some of the places they were able to see. Circular Quay to their left over the hill they were on, Farm Cove immediately in front of them, Port Macquarie, the budding naval base, with its impressive row of cannons in their emplacements pointing out across the bay, the tip of Garden Island to their right on Woolloomooloo Bay. On the opposite side of the harbour to her right was Cremorne Point, and immediately in front of them on the opposite side of the bay lay the whole of North Sydney. To Florence it seemed a very large and imposing city, and one which was growing and rapidly.

The two women sat for some time looking at the view, enjoying the scenery spread out before them. Florence wondered whether she would have the opportunity to see all or even most of it in the two weeks before Thomas returned from his New Zealand voyage. She had so much to do in the short time he would be away. The memory reminded her of Thomas and she looked out towards Green Island and the naval base near there, and was suddenly surprised to see the bow of the ship she had assumed Thomas was serving on, still alongside the jetty where she had left him the day before. Hadn't he said that the ship was leaving last night? and yet to her inexperienced eye, it seemed to be in no state of readiness for departure. Florence noted its position but made no comment to her companion, simply filing away the thought for further consideration later when she was alone.

Helena sensed that something was wrong with her new friend and glanced sideways to say something to her, but she too noted the grey point of the warship still in place where it had been the day before. The ship had not moved. Helena guessed instinctively what Florence was thinking and slapped her hand down gently onto her knee, rising from the seat as she did.

'Come on love, let’s be making a move shall we?' Florence took a last silent look at the ship and rose from the bench, smoothing down the folds of her long skirt as she did so.

'Suppose so' she replied quietly and started to walk slowly back along the path. 'I can have a look at the city centre and George Street tomorrow' she added, pointing back over her shoulder with her hand. They walked on in the heat slowly retracing their steps back to the dock road leading back to Woolloomooloo and home. Helena allowed Florence to walk on slowly with her in silence for a minute or two but could not hold onto her thoughts any longer.

'Sometimes you know,' she said, 'The ships are delayed from sailing for a day or so.'

'Not the bloody Navy. They always go on time.' Florence snapped, and instantly grabbed Helena’s arm in apology. 'Sorry love, it’s not your fault. I wasn’t snapping at you.' Helena patted her hand gently.

'I know you weren’t. It’s just difficult isn’t it?' Florence nodded her head as they continued walking.

'I was just thinking that...' she stopped talking, unsure of what she wanted to say. Helena linked her arm through Florence’s, and the two of them carried on slowly along the dock road in silence until, still having said nothing more, they arrived back at the house on Brougham Street.

Over the next three days Florence found her way on foot and by tram around Sydney. For the first two of those days she never ventured far away from sight of the dockside where the Powerful had berthed, until finally, on the third day, the vessel was no longer there. For some reason Florence felt relief that the ship had gone, now she felt at liberty to find out more about the city and country she wanted to make hers.

She finally walked to the Domain by herself, and from there into the Botanical Gardens and along the winding paths. She marvelled at trees towering high above her which she had never before seen, and was happy when she recognised more familiar ones from England. Despite the height of some of the English trees it was the native Australian ones she marvelled at, the Stringy Bark, the Blue Gum and many others she could only wonder at for the time being. The weather was warm and the sun shone all the time, or so it seemed, and after an hour of wandering aimlessly amongst the bushes she found a large white painted wrought iron, glass and wooden building set in the middle of a crossroads of pathways, which served partially as a small cafe but mainly as a greenhouse for Palms. Above the door were printed the words, The Palm House 1876. She sat down at one of the tables set outside under the shade of the overhanging trees and grinned broadly as she imagined how refined she now felt. Imagine me, she thought, a mill girl from Bolton sitting in this grand place. That girl was changing. So much so that she doubted if Hettie from next door would recognise her.

The truth was that Florence was changing into a person whom she, and her friends and family, would have had difficulty recognising. Soon she would have to find a job though, and the choice of jobs available, whilst not large, certainly seemed larger than in England, and there was nobody to tell her she could or could not do whatever job she fancied. With a population which was growing it did mean inevitably that the traditional jobs women were offered now seemed not to be as rigid as in England. The opportunities were larger and more varied. Her world was enlarging day by day.

She glanced shyly around her at the other people seated at the tables nearby. They were mainly women, older than her, but all dressed in similar fashions of lightweight, flimsy long sleeved dresses surmounted with broad brimmed hats to ward off the strong sunlight. The woman closest had two long pale blue feathers tucked into the side of her hat. The feathers tailed elegantly over her shoulder and occasionally moved in the slight breeze. Florence admired them for a moment and wondered what sort of bird they were from, but gave up guessing after a moment or two. A young girl of twelve or thirteen years of age dressed in the black and white uniform of a waitress came to her table. Florence ordered a pot of tea for herself and the girl wrote it on the small notepad she carried. She smiled openly at her accent as she backed away to get her pot of tea. A few minutes later the waitress returned with her tea on a tray, and placed it for Florence on the table in front of her, there was a plain biscuit in the saucer alongside the cup. Florence smiled at her and thanked her, then carefully poured her tea from the pot into her cup and left it to cool for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a sudden movement in the tree nearest to the two women at the next table. It was an Ibis, a lumpy looking thing with a long curved beak and stringy legs. As she watched, the bird swooped silently from the top of the tree, where it had been roosting, and dived to snatch a small sandwich which one of the women was holding in her hand. The woman shouted in surprise as the bird took the small piece of bread in its beak and tried to fly off with it. It rose from the table, and the woman rose as well, catching the bird by its feet and jerking the black and white menace off balance. The bread fell from the birds’ beak as it flapped its wings in an effort to free itself. The woman released the birds’ feet which then flew off to land on in a branch high in another tree by the cafe where it turned and stared at her malevolently, making clicking noises. Florence and the two women laughed out loud at the incident, and then quietly settled down and continued with eating their meals.

Finishing her tea, Florence stood up from the table and settling her hat on her head, continued her walk through the gardens, heading in the direction of Farm Cove which lay a couple of hundred yards away down the hill. She stood by a small sea wall at the edge of the cove and the garden, and looked for a few minutes in wonder at the ships and boats which moved around the harbour, their colours and shapes contrasting sharply with the natural shapes of the woods and bushes and rocks on land. Though the sun was shining hotter than she had ever known before in her life, she exhilarated in walking along the wide path between the edge of the cove and the gardens. Invigorated by the sun and suddenly feeling unaccountably happy, she swung her small handbag as she walked, and took refuge where she could, under the shade of the trees bordering the path, constantly looking first into the ocean then at the plants and bushes and trees she passed. Soon she came to the end of the path. There was Mrs Macquarie's chair which Helena had promised to show her.  It was a large carved sandstone rock, part of the landscape, with had a message carved in the face pointing out to sea. The chair itself was part of a natural outcrop of rock facing the sea. She carefully read the words carved on the stone.

'Be it thus recorded that the road round the inside of the government domain called Mrs Macquarie’s Road so named by the governor on account of her having originally planned it measuring 3 miles 377 yards was finally completed on 13^th day of June 1816'

Florence sat on the lower step of the chair and rested her back against it, looking out across the bay. Some distance out, yet clearly visible, was what appeared to be a fort, or perhaps a prison, she thought. It stuck out from the sea bed like a large squat round chimney, in the middle of the harbour, and ships had to manoeuvre to avoid it. Ferries scuttled to and fro across from one side of the harbour to the other and up and down the length of it. I must find out what that prison is called, she thought to herself, and I need to take a trip to the ticket office at the quayside to find out the times and where these ferries go to. Each time she saw something new she became aware of how much she still had to discover about the city and its opportunities. After she had cooled down a little her mind went to thoughts of Mrs Macquarie, and who she was to wield such importance in the early days of the country. What was she like? what sort of life did she lead as the wife of the governor? how different was her life to those of other women who lived in the country at that time?

She pushed herself off the stone chair, dusted fragments of stone off her skirt, and started to retrace her footsteps along the shore. Her feet were starting to ache. Walking, and being on her feet, was not new for her. Back at home in England she had spent all her working days on her feet, and walked almost everywhere, being unwilling to spend good hard earned money on trams; then she had worn clogs with hard steel tipped soles. Now she was having to become accustomed to walking in lace up boots which offered less support than her clogs. Perhaps she should ask her Ma to send her some clogs? No, not a good idea, she thought. Her mother would neither care to send them out, nor know how to send them if she did care. She would content herself with the boots. Wearing clogs when no one else did would make her stand out amongst everyone else. Not something that she really wanted to do. Of greater importance at this time was to fit in with the other people she met and saw around her.

After some time walking back towards the cafe, the path took a fork to the left, and she followed it, assuming that it would lead back to the Domain, as the path itself was rising in that direction. Very soon she found herself on the top of an large expanse of exposed rock looking down onto the path. Behind it was a small inviting clump of trees offering shade from the sun. Florence stood with her back to the trees and looked out across the bay, then folded her skirt around her, and folded her legs under her to sit down with her back to the wide tree closest to the edge of the rock face, safe from the edge yet able to look down on the path, the wide green lawns, the flower beds and bushes, and the sparkling waters of Farm Cove. The sun was losing a little of its heat, though it was still hotter than the hottest Blackpool summer’s day. The shade was comforting, so she allowed her eyes to close gently against the sunlight on her skin. A soft breeze wafted over her face from across the green lawns behind her, and out to sea. The sound of the waves was soft and gentle on her ears. Soon, she fell asleep.

Sometime later, she had no idea how much later, she jerked awake and almost threw off her hat with the force of pulling back her head. Saliva was dribbling from the side of her mouth and trickled embarrassingly and slowly down her chin. Her face was in shadow when she opened her eyes. There were two people standing close to her, a woman standing up close to her and a man some feet behind her. The woman was leaning over her solicitously, the shadow from her hat creating most of the shadow which had fallen on Florence’s face.

'You alright dear?' she asked gently. 'We saw you sat slumped there and were a bit anxious.' Her voice was soft and kind and well spoken. She wore a long pale blue dress with flouncy sleeves, on her head a darker blue hat with feathers on the side. Florence struggled to her feet, pulling the hat back onto her head and wiping the dribble from her chin with the back of her hand. She saw the man smiling shyly at her from behind the woman. He was tall and wearing a light coloured suit. On his head he was wearing a cream coloured straw wide-brimmed Panama hat and in his hand he carried a black cane which he leaned on heavily.

'I'm alright really,' she said. 'I just sat down to watch the sea and next thing I knew was, I’m fast asleep.' She grinned at the woman feeling just a little bit foolish. The woman smiled back at her,

'Just as long as you are alright then' she said, and turned to walk away with the man, who tipped the brim of his hat to Florence. Florence nodded at him and went to re-join the path on out of the Domain. What an idiot, she thought. Falling asleep under a tree, they must have thought you were a right one. Florence felt hot and sticky after her brief sleep in the sun, but soon recovered as she walked through the streets of Woolloomooloo back to her temporary home.

Later, sat in the living room of number sixty, and having enjoyed yet another filling meal prepared by Helena, Florence started to think for the first time since arriving at the house, where she would like to live in Sydney; there seemed to be plenty of options open to her, the only factor restricting where she could live would be the cost of the housing. She had seen many of the sub-districts of the inner and outer city and had examined many of the different houses which had been advertised in the Sydney Morning Herald. Though the paper came out every morning and contained a lot of properties she discovered by trial and error that there were certain areas where she did not wish to live. The Rocks was one area, and despite her current situation, Woolloomooloo was another, and King Cross just up the road from where she lived did not seem to be too safe to her. There always appeared to be too many men wandering around, and women who she thought were obviously, ‘on the game.’ Florence knew Thomas would not be very pleased if he discovered she had rented somewhere where ‘that sort of thing’ went on.

The trams, which plied around the city, appeared to cover much of the city with their services, from Manley in the north on the opposite side of the harbour, to St Peters, Marrickville and Petersham in the south. Much of what she saw, she liked, and would have been happy to live in almost any of the areas she had seen, money permitting. At the back of her mind though was the thought that she had the hundred pounds given to her by Thomas which would not last forever, and wherever she did live, it would be best suited if it were close by to any job she could find. And that was another problem she had to tackle.