TWENTY NINE
NEUTRAL BAY
Early in October 1909 Florence, together with Clyda,
moved into the house at number six Phillip Street, Neutral Bay, North Sydney. Mrs
Mackenzie from number twenty four had been as good as her word, and spoken to
her friend Grace who lived at number six. Grace lived with William Saunders and
two other men, Alexander Campbell and George Kent. George and William had set
up a business in the bay, The Neutral Bay Boatyard, whilst Alexander worked in
another similar business close to Neutral Bay. Mrs Mackenzie had written to
Florence as she had promised she would and within the week Florence visited the
house and had enjoyed the short interview she had had with Grace. The two women
had sparked off each other within two minutes of meeting. The decision had been
made by both of them almost immediately, and Florence and Clyda had moved their
few belongings from Marrickville to Neutral Bay within two days of the meeting.
It was agreed by Grace that Florence would do the
cooking and cleaning for the household for which she would be paid twelve shilling
and six pence a week. If any of the occupants wanted their clothes washing then
she would do that at the rate of one shilling per person, which meant that
Florence could potentially earn over sixteen shilling a week. That, together
with the ten shillings and six pence from Skidmore meant that Florence would
have an income of nearly thirty shillings a week all found. She was happy with
that, and soon settled into a routine of cooking the meals for all of them and
ensuring that the house was clean for them when they returned from work at the
end of the day.
It was not a large house, but adequate for them all,
especially as Florence and Clyda had the place almost entirely to themselves
most of the day. She would rise in the morning and dress Clyda, who was now
moving around the house on her bottom quite easily, scooting with her feet
tucked under her and generally getting in the way, but in a happy way. By the
time the others returned home in the evening she had made a meal for them all
after having fed Clyda her tea. After washing the pots after their meal
Florence would bathe the child and put her to bed, though during the summer
months as the light lasted longer in the evenings this became a little tedious,
and by that time of the evening Florence found herself losing her temper at
times with the child. Clyda, as small as she was, recognised that her mother
was becoming angry with her at times. Florence found a willing accomplice in
George who would take her off her hands when things became too much for her to
bear. George was an easy touch as the child reminded him of his crowded home as
a child, and came to enjoy the child’s company, and then to feel more and more
affection towards her.
One evening, shortly after Christmas, Florence was
standing at the small stone sink in the kitchen washing the plates from their
evening meal, when Clyda came scooting in on her bottom, making her normal
gurgling squeaking noises, trying to talk, as Florence would say. She came up
behind Florence and clawed her fingers into her mother’s ankles squealing for
attention. Florence yelped in pain as the tiny fingers with the sharp nails dug
into her flesh.
'Stop it you little monkey!' she shouted at the
child. Clyda started to cry, and was soon sat on the floor bawling her eyes
out, her face becoming redder and redder, the tears flowing down her face. Florence
went to dry her hands on a tea towel when George walked into the room and
picked her up from the floor.
'It’s alright Flo' he said, 'I’ll take her off your
hands if it’s alright with you'
'Thanks George,' Florence replied, 'You're a love. Sometimes
she just gets too much, especially when I’m up to my eyes in it.' She gave
George a warm smile of thanks and turning back to the sink, sunk her hands back
into the soapy water and picked up a plate from its depths before placing it on
the draining board at the side. George took the child in his arms and cradled
her to his chest rubbing her with his moustache. Clyda giggled and squirmed to
get away from him. During the time it took Florence to finish the dishes George
kept the child entertained, walking around the kitchen and in and out of the
garden, showing her the trees and flowers and explaining to her what their
names were. The child was entranced, and stared seriously into George's eyes
when he offered her an explanation of what the names of the flowers were,
appearing to fully understand everything he said.
'She understands everything I say, you know,' he
said to Florence as he came back into the kitchen. Florence was finishing
drying the dishes and smiled at him.
'You are good with her you know George.' She said. 'Considering
you’ve no children of your own you seem to know exactly what to do with her to
quieten her down.'
'Had a lot of brothers and sisters to practice on.'
He replied smiling, and handed over the child to Florence. Soon Clyda was in
bed and on her way to being fast asleep. Florence would bathe her in the
morning.
Coming out of the bedroom, Florence saw George and
the others sitting in the living room talking amongst themselves, or reading the
newspaper, in George’s case. He looked up as she entered the room and folded
his paper in half, placing it down the side of the armchair he was occupying. He
smiled at the attractive young woman, some seven years younger than him then
took a deep breath.
'Err, Florence' he began, speaking quietly. 'Do you
fancy a walk down to the jetty? It’s a nice evening and I think you could do
with getting out of the house for an hour or so, you’ve been stuck in here all
day and it would do you some good, don’t you think?' It came out in almost one
breath in a mad rush. Florence looked at him then cocked her head in the
direction of the bedroom. The soft sound of a child breathing was the only
noise to be coming from it. She smiled at George and replied,
'That would be nice George, thanks. Let me get my
hat.' She went stealthily back into the bedroom so as not to wake Clyda and reappeared
wearing her best hat, the blue one with the wide brim and a feather stuck
jauntily into the brim. Grace looked up from her chair and smiled a knowing
smile first at Florence then at George. 'What?' Florence said.
'Nothing at all my dear,' Grace replied smugly,
ducking her grinning head back down into the sewing she was occupying herself
with. 'Nothing at all. You children go along and play nicely now.' Florence
glanced at George and blushed.
'We’re just going for a breath of fresh air, and
George is ....' her voice tailed off in embarrassment as she clutched at the small
bag she had in her hand. George smiled at her, far wiser, though not much more
experienced in the world than Florence.
'Ignore her' he said. 'She’s just pulling your leg.
Come on let’s go before she finds something else to upset you with.' He smiled
at Grace who smiled back and winked at him.
They left the house and turned right down the hill towards
the main road, Ben Boyd Road, and then turned again towards the direction of the
ferry on Neutral Bay. George walked along beside Florence, keeping on the road
side of her all the way. As they walked past one of the houses on Ben Boyd
Road, number thirty six, George nodded toward it.
'That’s where the landlord lives. Mr Stavenhagen,'
he said. 'He’s a wool merchant. He owns number eight and ten as well as ours.' Florence
glanced at the house on the corner of the road as it took a steep downward turn.
'Bet he’s a rich man,' she said. 'Owning three
houses and being a wool merchant and all.' George nodded his head in agreement.
'Worked hard for it thought I’ll bet.' He replied. Florence
nodded her agreement. It had come to her notice many times that the background
of most of the men she read about in the daily paper had started out with
little, and by hard work had made something of themselves. Many of them, like
her, were immigrants from Great Britain mainly, but some from other parts of
the world. With a small amount of luck Florence intended to follow their
example, particularly when Clyda was a little older. They walked on down the
hill and through the side roads enjoying the pleasant sunshine of the late
evening sky and ducking under the hanging blossoms of the Wattle trees in the
gardens they passed, until finally they came to the jetty at the ferry terminal
on the end of Hayes Street. For a moment they stood side by side at the
entrance to the terminal. Florence read the name over the top of the small
narrow wood and brick building, 'Neutral Bay Wharf' it said. Florence admired
the cream painted brickwork of the ornate entrance. George nudged her elbow
gently and looked towards the path running around the edge of the road. There
was a large house on the corner of Hays Street with castle like crenulations on
the roof. Florence gazed at it for a moment. 'Look
George. The name on the house is the same as the one I lived in on Unwins
Bridge Road. It's called Hastings.' He glanced at the house and nodded his head
silently and started to walk towards path. They stopped at the edge of the water
and looked over Neutral Bay, which was one of the many bays making up the great
harbour of Sydney. George pointed to the opposite side of the small bay where a
jetty stuck out a few yards into the water from the shore. On the shore side
was a single storey building some twenty or thirty yards long.
'That’s our business over there,' he said. 'The
Neutral Bay Boatyard.' His voice had a proud ring to it. Proud of what both he
and William Saunders had created, and now ran. The two men hired out small and
medium sized sailing and rowing boats to anyone who wanted to take them out on
the bay for an afternoon, or less if they so wished. They frequently hired them
by the hour as well as by the day and half day. Whilst there was some
competition for their trade, particularly from Joyce's boatyard close to the
ferry wharf, George and William were happy with what they were doing and the
living they were making.
'It’s lovely here isn’t it George?' Florence said
quietly, looking around at the trees and bushes growing right down to the
waters’ edge all around the bay. The bushes were beyond their best in terms of
colour; summer had taken its toll on them and some of the leaves were staring
to wilt a little. She watched as the White Cockatoos flitted around the tree
tops and guessed at the names of some of the others she didn’t know. 'What’s
that one George?' she asked pointing to a grey bird with a bright yellow beak. 'Seems
full of itself the noise it’s making.' George bent closer to her, following the
line of her pointed finger, and spotted a bird jumping down onto the ground
then flying back up into the branches of a tree. He thought for a moment,
trying to recall the name of the small bird, which had a bright yellow beak and
eye.
'I think that’s called a Noisy Miner,' he said
eventually. 'Bit strange seeing one here by the side of the water. Usually find
it inland in the eucalyptus trees. See a lot of them near where I lived in
Alexandra, up in Victoria.' He paused for a moment before going on. 'They must
be attracted to the flowers on that tree, though they do eat insects as well.'
Florence looked at him and smiled.
'You seem to know a lot about them George. How’s
that?'
'Well in Alexandra there was a lot of farmland around
there, and forests, and bush. You used to get a lot of different sorts of birds
and wildlife out in the bush.' Florence edged closer to him until her arm was
almost touching. They stood in silence looking at the views across the bay and
Florence thought about what George had told her.
'They’re beautiful as well aren’t they?' she said
eventually, pointing to the clouds high in the evening sky. 'I’ve never seen
clouds that colour before. They’re all pink and grey, and there’s a bit of
light brown and purple in them. They’re really beautiful aren’t they?' George
looked at the clouds and nodded his head before finally saying,
'You’d like Alexandra, if you like them. You get
some colours like that in the hills. When you get up there, near the mountain tops,
you can see all the other ranges of hills in the distance. You’d like them
colours. The further away they are the more bluer they seem.' He paused for a
second and then added, 'Yes, you’d really love them.' Florence turned slightly
to him and slowly linked her arm in his, smiling up into his face. George
didn't object.
'Let’s get back shall we, and you can tell me about
Alexandra whilst we walk up the hill?' George looked sideways at her and smiled.
'Alright then, let’s make a move shall we?' They
started off and soon fell into step one with the other, their hips banging gently
against each other from time to time as they negotiated the steeply rising
streets between the wharf and Phillip Street. They walked slowly, and anyone
seeing them would believe they were a couple who if not married, knew each
other well enough, to be linked arm in arm.
'What’s Alexandra like George?' She asked. 'You’ve
mentioned it a few times before. I mean, I know it's where you were born and all
that, but I’ve no idea what it’s like. How big it is, and what sort of a place
it is.' George thought for a moment before choosing his words.
'I suppose it’s probably just an ordinary country
town, nothing really special, but it is nice, and the people there are good
people. They work hard and they play hard as well. It became a town proper when
they discovered gold there, in a stream called the Ultima Thule creek. It runs
out of the Goulburn river.' Florence interrupted him.
'Ultima Thule?' she asked. 'What does that mean?'
'It's a strange name isn't it? Well I looked it up
in the free library in town once. It’s an old word, very old, and it was used
to describe a place that was beyond the boundary of the known world. So it’s
probably a good name for a creek in Alexandra, ‘cos Alexandra is about eighty
miles from Melbourne.' Florence interrupted him again.
'But I thought the goldfields were in Bendigo and
Ballarat, I’ve heard of them. Never knew there was any gold in Alexandra.'
'Well they were the first ones, Bendigo and
Ballarat, but the one in Alexandra was
started in 1866, up to then the place had just been agricultural land. It was
called Redgate or the Red Gate Diggings. Anyway, when they found gold in the
Ultima Thule creek the town started to grow and burst at the seams a bit. All
sorts of buildings went up. There’s a hotel there called the Commercial Hotel
which used to originally be called the Corner Hotel, ‘cos it was on the corner
of Grant Street at the crossroads. It's quite big. Right in the centre of town,
and I understand that there were twenty pubs there at one time. Must have been
a lively place'
'So it was the mining that made people come to the
place?'
'That’s right. It was just farming before they found
gold. Population grew almost overnight, but it died off a bit when the gold ran
out and things settled down a bit. I mean, well, for example, the hotel is nothing
like the original place. As I understand, the hotel and the whole of that side
of the street burned down one night. That made the council start a fire
brigade.' He chuckled. 'Bet the tight so and sos wouldn’t want to put their
hand in their pocket before then. But you’d like it now. It’s got a veranda
around it so you can sit out in the evening and enjoy a pint, if that’s what
you like.' George paused for a moment as they came to a steep part of Ben Boyd
Road, Florence breathed heavily but urged him to continue.
'Well, I mean. What can I say about the place? It’s
real beaut. You come into town by horse and cart, or whatever. You normally
come in from Yea, that’s a small town some way off, or perhaps Marysville,
either road will take you to Melbourne. The road into town is dead straight,
once you’ve come round the bend before the town..' He stopped as Florence
giggled. 'What?' he said.
'It’s straight once you come round the bend' she
said. 'That’s what you said.'
'Well it is. There’s a bend about half a mile off
the crossroads in the centre and the road is straight from there to the hotel
in the centre.' He nudged her in the ribs and she giggled. 'So, this road, it’s
straight into the town, uphill a bit and then you come onto the crossroads
where the hotel is. Not a lot of traffic, the odd motor car now and then but
mainly horses and carts and the odd stagecoach once a week, though that’s been
falling off a bit. Before I left they were talking about building a railway
line into the town. The last newspaper I got sent they were almost ready for
opening up the station, so I think the line will probably be open now.'
Florence pulled on his arm to stop, and for a few
moments they stood side by side whilst she caught her breath.
'Go on George, tell me more. It sounds like a
smashing place.' George thought for a moment then carried on.
'Well, don’t know about smashing, but it was a good
place to live I suppose, and it had a good football team, Australian rules. I
was team captain for a few years. But the thing I liked about it was the
Goulburn River; that used to run right along the valley. There are farms
running up into the hills from the sides of the riverbank, very wide and flat
and really pretty I suppose you’d say.' He paused to take a deep breath,
remembering the countryside of the area where he had been born and lived,
before he continued. 'There were lots of trees along the riverbanks and the
branches sometimes dipped into the water, you always knew there’d be fish near
the deep pools. It was quite wide, and not very fast unless it was in flood,
but it was a nice place to be, lots of wildlife around. Kangaroos, Possums;
you’d sometimes see a Bandicoot or a flying Fox at times. You’d see Echidnas and
Wallabies. Oh yea, there were the Wombats as well. They were quite big at
times, snuffling around in the grass once they come out of their holes. After
the hills bordering on the river you had the mountains, and out towards
Thornton and Eildon you had more mountains and some lakes. You’d love it there
Flo. There are lots and lots of trees, and I suppose that's probably one of the
main places for people to work now, the timber.'
They walked on in silence for a while as she
considered the things he had said and described, and George felt for a moment
that he had said too much. Finally they reached the front gate at Phillip
Street. He reached around her and pushed open the gate for her to step through.
'Thank you George,' she said quietly as she walked
past him up the path to the front door. At the door she stopped and turned to
him. 'I enjoyed that walk George, and you telling me about Alexandra and the
country. Will you tell me more some time?' He smiled at her.
'Course I
will.' He replied.
'Perhaps when baby is older you might take me there
for a visit?' she asked, smiling into his eyes. George paused for a moment and
then smiled broadly at her.
'I'd like that Flo. We could have a day out there,
or maybe two, now the railway is opened up. Might even make it a day or two in
Melbourne as well whilst we’re at it'
'Could we George?' she asked excitedly. 'Could we
really? That would be really good. I saw a little bit of Melbourne when the
Persic stopped on the way here, looked a lovely place.'
'Oh it is, you’ll like it there.' George replied,
and held the door open for her.
Florence stepped through into the small hallway, taking
off her hat as she did so. George closed the door behind them. Grace and
William looked up from their newspapers and magazines as they entered the
living room. Grace smiled at them.
'Alright you two?' Grace asked. George looked at
Florence and smiled. She placed her hat on the small sideboard and smiled back
at him. William flicked the pages of his newspaper and said nothing.
'Fine thanks Grace,' George said. 'Everything's fine.
Had a really nice walk.' He turned to smile at Florence, who nodded her head
slightly and returned his smile.
All was well.
No comments:
Post a Comment