TWENTY EIGHT
1909
Within a few weeks of returning from
England, spring started to alter the look of the countryside around Sydney and
the Botanical Gardens in the city. Florence had settled back into the house in
Marrickville with the Jepsons, and life for her and Clyda started to flourish,
as did the changing seasons around her.
The house she lived in was small. It was large
enough for all four of them to live in comfort without any thought of
overcrowding, but Florence found the proximity of the Austral brickworks and
its connotations and memories too much to contend with. She decided to move.
'Mrs Jepson!' Florence called out to her
landlady one morning. Alice Jepson, was a woman in her late forties but who
looked older, came through from the kitchen into the living room. She wiped her
hands clean of the flour she had been baking with in the kitchen on her apron.
'What’s the matter Flo?' she asked.
'There's nothing wrong Mrs Jepson. I just
wondered if you wanted anything from the Chinaman’s shop. I was going to go and
get the morning paper and maybe buy a lottery ticket.' Alice shook her finger
at Florence in mock anger. 'Now you know he was raided by the police only a
couple of weeks ago don't you? Don’t go
buying any of his lottery tickets, you don’t know if the coppers will still be
watching his shop.' Florence grinned.
'Don’t worry yourself Mrs Jepson,' she
replied laughing. 'I’ll have a good look over my shoulder before I get one from
him.' She picked her hat from the top of the sideboard where it had laid since
bringing it downstairs from her bedroom. Clyda was lying in a bassinet under
the front room window. 'Can I leave baby here with you Mrs Jepson?' she asked.
'It’ll make it quicker for me if I could, and it's getting a bit hot outside.' Alice
smiled fondly and nodded her head, looking at the baby lying on her back in the
wicket basket.
'’Course you can' she replied. 'Off you go,
and mind for that Chinaman, just you buy the papers and forget anything about
his lottery.' Pressing her hat firmly down on her head, Florence grinned and
bent down to kiss her daughter on the cheek, then left the house to walk to the
newsagent run by Lin Chou, one of many Chinese who had moved to live in
Marrickville since the goldfields in Victoria had become owned and operated by
large companies, reducing the need for their labour. Their hardworking ethos
was more suitable for individual working than that of large corporations, they
thought. Many of the Chinese had moved from the fields into Sydney and its
environs until they formed a significant portion of the population.
Lin Chou's newsagent shop was about twenty
minutes walk from Unwins Bridge Road, and was well known in the whole of the
area for selling the illegal Chinese lottery tickets which were drawn every
Friday around noon. Whilst he told everyone that there were always four or five
winners of his lucky numbers lottery, in truth Lin Chou never paid out to more
than three people every week, which was sufficient to make his clients feel
they were part of a regular winning pattern, but which gave him a much higher
profit than normal. Inevitably, word got around about the highly illegal activities
he ran from his newsagents shop, but in the main the locals did nothing to
upset his applecart, and his business flourished. When a complaint was made to
the police, as had obviously happened some weeks ago, the shop was kept under
casual observation by plain clothes police from their headquarters in the
centre of Sydney, and eventually the shop was raided. Mr Chou was arrested and
taken to the new Marrickville police station and placed in one of the four lock
up cells for the night, before appearing in court the following morning. He
received a fine from the magistrates and then left the court to return to his
shop, to sell more of his now famous lottery tickets. Nothing much changed,
other than the additional publicity which his court appearance in the Sydney
Morning Herald had given him, which in turn allowed his illegal trade to
flourish a little more. He had a living to make, the law on the prohibition of
lotteries was almost unenforceable, and people wanted to gamble. He fulfilled a
need for the people of Marrickville, and beyond. A court appearance now and
again did nothing to upset Mr Chou, indeed he recognised the need for publicity
to make his business grow, and a court appearance was just such publicity, and
the really wonderful part about it was that it was free publicity! The Sydney
Morning Herald were always happy to report the proceedings of the Police
Courts.
Florence opened the door to the small dark
shop. A bell tinkled over her head to announce her arrival. She stepped through
the doorway into the small dim overcrowded shop, closing the door behind her. At
the far end of the shop was a counter behind which stood Mr Chou the owner, but
to get to him Florence had to negotiate a clutter of boxes, display stands and
crates filled with bottles. The overall impression was that there was no way to
get through the stock to Mr Chou, but Florence had been to his newsagents many
times in the past months and picked her way gently through the maze like boxes
to the counter, turning first one way then the other to negotiate the maze.
'Mr Chou' she immediately began, 'You need
to clear this lot of rubbish up. You could lose one of your customers here and
never know about it.' Chou smiled at her. He knew her well, or so he thought,
from the times she had been in his shop and bought newspapers and the
occasional lottery ticket from him. 'I no lose you missus.' he said, grinning a
wide grin. He was a small man, even smaller than Florence, and had a permanent
smile on his face for those customers he liked, and he liked Florence. 'You
want ticket?' he asked, conspiratorially looking around the shop, though there
were no other customers in at that time. Florence joined in the silent farce
and looked over her shoulder back towards the door.
'Yes please Mr Chou.' She whispered. 'Just
one. Number Nine one two.' She added. Chou nodded and turned to walk back
through a door set in the wall behind him. He reappeared a moment or two later
holding out a slip of pale blue paper which had three hand written numbers in
black ink on one side and three Chinese characters on the other side. Florence
took the ticket and pushed it quickly into the pocket of her skirt nodding her
thanks to him as she did so. 'And the Herald and the World News please Mr
Chou.' He looked at her with surprise on his face.
'What you want World News for as well
missus?' he asked. 'Not enough news in Herald for you today?' He grinned at
her.
'Looking for something different today Mr
Chou. Need to find myself a job. Can’t live off grass and fresh air for much
longer.' She held out her hand and the Chinaman placed the Sydney Morning
Herald and the World News into it, accepting the coins she proffered in the
other hand.
'You want job? You come work for me. I pay
you good money.' He said, the grin replaced on his face with a serious look.
Florence looked up at him and for a second or two considered what he had said
then replied,
'No thanks Mr Chou. I need to find
something to support me and the baby, and I feel like I want to live a bit
closer to the water.' She looked out towards the shop window and in the general
direction of where she thought the harbour might lie. Chou nodded his head
slowly, considering what she had said before he asked, 'You no like
Marrickville?' Florence shook her head. 'No, it's not that Mr Chou, it’s just
that there are too many bad memories her for me to live with, and I like the
harbour and the water, so I think I’ll look around for work, and somewhere else
to live. Maybe in Neutral Bay, that’s close enough and yet there looks to be
some opportunities near there. Maybe I’ll get lucky.' Mr Chou handed Florence a
few pennies change across the counter.
'What I say I mean,' he said, holding her
hand and squeezing it gently as he handed over the coins. 'You want job, I
find job for you. You not forget. You
good lady, work hard, I find you job.' Florence smiled at him.
'Thank you Mr Chou, I’ll remember what you
said.'
'You come back Friday for winning number missus,'
Chou called to her as she turned and wound her way back through the maze. As
she left the shop she stepped out into the glaring bright sun, the heat burning
through her straw hat as she walked back to Mrs Jepson’s house.
Once home Florence called out to Mrs Jepson that she
was back and picked up her daughter from the bassinet where she had been
playing with a small rag doll Florence had left her with. The child was
blossoming and seemed even to her eyes to be growing every day. She wondered
how the child would have fared had she been born in Bolton where infant
mortality was so much higher than in Australia. Hadn’t her own mother lost five
children before they had reached their first birthday? The thought was quickly
dismissed from her mind as Mrs Jepson came through into the living room.
'Hello love. Get what you wanted?' she asked.
Florence pulled the pale blue slip of paper from her pocket and held it between
two fingers, flapping it in front of Alice’s face.
'Here’s
the winner' she said, and grinning, placed it on the mantle over the fireplace
before settling herself down in an armchair by the side of the unlit and empty
fireplace. Florence picked up the child from the bassinet and placed her on the
floor, where she continued to play at her feet on with the doll. After no more
than a moment she suddenly shot off across the room, scooting on her bottom
across the wooden floor towards the enticing smells coming from the kitchen,
where Alice was putting the finishing touches to some cakes she had been baking
whilst Florence had been out.
Florence placed the heavy Worlds News down on the
floor at the side of the chair and opened up the Sydney Morning Herald, turning
to the main advertising section close to the back page. She glanced through the
deaths, the people looking for accommodation, the latest silk hats on sale at
Waters on George Street and the corsets at Ways in Pitt Street, then turned her
attention to the foot of the page where people from across the city were offering
positions as housemaids. She examined them in detail, trying to find one which
was in Neutral Bay or close to it. She found one which looked possible for her.
A woman was looking for a housekeeper at 24 Phillip Street, Neutral Bay. Mrs
Mackenzie at that address said there were three in the family to take care of;
references were required, that was not a problem thought Florence, and the
wages were ten shillings a week. Well, she thought. Not the best wages, but
that would include her board and lodging as well, so it was probably worthwhile
following up. The following day Florence wrote to the lady to arrange to visit
her at the house on Phillip Street.
On Wednesday Florence rose at her normal time and
had a bath before bathing and dressing her daughter, then took a tram Circular
Quay where she caught a ferry across the harbour to Neutral Bay. In the glaring
sunshine carried Clyda in her arms up Hayes Street and along Kurraba Road to
Ben Boyd Street and finally to the house on Phillip Street. By the time she had
walked up the hills to the house Florence was sweating profusely, despite the
shade provided by the many trees planted in the pavement, and the hat on her
head. She found herself becoming angry with the thought that she was going to
arrive at the house smelling less than beautiful. She trudged one foot in front
of the other until she found the house, and knocked on the front door. Mrs
Mackenzie was a nice woman some ten years older than Florence, but as soon as
she saw the young child in Florence’s arms knew she was not right for the
position. Mrs Mackenzie and her husband had decided they did not want any young
children in the house, perhaps they should have put something to that effect in
the advertisement. But she was kind and thoughtful enough to realise that Florence
had come a long way in the heat of the day carrying her young baby, and asked
her into the house to take a glass of cooling iced lemonade which she had just
made. Florence sank into the seat by the fireplace in the front room and knew
from the woman’s demeanour that she was not going to get the job. She was angry
with herself for sweating, for not having taken a hackney carriage, for
arriving with the baby and for having wasted the day. But she sat and chatted
with the woman as she drank the cool drink and gave some to Clyda who was
sitting on her knee trying to grab at the glass as she lifted it to her lips.
'Look my dear,' Mrs Mackenzie said. 'I'm sorry I
can't help you. Perhaps I should have put something in the paper that we didn't
want to have children in the house. It's a bit difficult with my husband and
his business partner and myself all working, but well....' She petered out for
a moment then something struck her and she continued. 'I can see you are keen
to get a job, and that you’re a good woman, so let me have a word with a friend
of mine. She lives just down the street at number six. She and her man have
just started a new business at the dockside, and their business partner has
moved in with them. They could be looking for someone to look after their house
for them. If you want I can ask her if she will see you.' Florence’s eyes
lifted from the glass and she considered what the other had said for a moment.
'That’s very good of you Mrs Mackenzie,' she said,
nodding her head, her eyes brimming with tears of frustration and
disappointment. 'I’ll thank you a lot if you would be so kind.'
'Right then, give me your address and I’ll either
get her to write to you if she wants to see you, or I’ll write to you myself if
she isn’t interested. How’s that sound to you?'
'Thank you Mrs Mackenzie. You are good' Florence
said, feeling tears welling up again in her eyes.
'Now don’t you go worrying yourself love. Everything
will turn out alright' She took the glass from Florence’s hand and stood up to
return it to the kitchen. Florence rose up from her chair, hitching the heavy
child up in her arms. 'It really is kind of you.' She said. Mrs Mackenzie came
back through into the living room and held out her hands for the baby.
'Come here, give me the child whilst you put your
hat back on.' Florence handed over the baby and put her hat on her head,
carefully pushing strands of hair under the hat and away from her face before
reaching out for her daughter once more. Mrs Mackenzie pecked the baby on the
cheek before handing her back. 'She’s such a lovely child isn’t she. Bet she’s
no bother at all is she,?' Florence smiled at her and then Clyda before
answering.
'She can be a handful, but she is a lively little
thing, but lovely with it as well.' She replied. She held out her hand and the
two women shook hands before Florence turned to leave the house.
'You should hear from her in a couple of days or so.
I’ll pop round and see her tonight after tea.' Mrs Mackenzie said. Florence
left the house in a better mood than she had anticipated, and endured the hot
ride back to Marrickville.
No comments:
Post a Comment