Homes Is A Strange Country - Chapter 46

FORTY SIX
9^th December 1912

   Summer was fast approaching and the sun was beating down on Sydney, Christmas was close and people across the city were making preparations for family parties. Though it was still early in the morning the sun was well over the horizon and burning hard on Neutral Bay. A breeze coming in from the sea did little or nothing to provide any form of cooling respite from the temperature as it rose steadily. The bedroom door was thrown open and Clyda came running from the bedroom she shared with George to find him seated at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea and eating a slice of toast for his breakfast. She rushed to him and threw her arms around his knees.

   'Pa!' she exclaimed. 'It’s my birthday!' George smiled down at her and stroked the almost black hair on her head, brushing it from her eyes.

   'Is it?' he asked. 'I thought it was later on in the month. Are you sure it’s today?' Clyda punching him gently on the side of his knee and grinned up at him.

   'Pa! You know very well it is today. I'm four!' Her laughing face glanced around the room expectantly looking to find a present she knew he must have hidden somewhere. There was nothing evident, no bulky or even small parcel wrapped in brightly coloured paper. She searched with her eyes whilst keeping close to George.

   'Do you want a drink love?' George asked.

   'No Pa. I just want my present,' she replied, grinning at him. George rose from the chair and left the room returning a few seconds later with a flat parcel in his hand.

   'Do I get a kiss for this then?' he asked, holding out the parcel for Clyda to take from him. The girl skipped to him and threw her arms up in the air, George collected her from the floor and she planted a kiss on his lips. 'Happy Birthday Clyda' he said. 'Thanks Pa,' she said, taking the parcel from his hand and proceeding to carefully unwrap it on top of the table. It was a book of stories for girls. George was sad to see her face drop a little as Clyda realised what it was, and the fact that it wasn’t a doll as she had wished for. Nonetheless she took up the book in her hands and looked seriously at the cover before opening it. Glancing up at George she beamed a smile at him and said

   'Thanks Pa, it’s lovely.'

   George took his seat back at the table and finished off his toast and tea, being joined by Willie and Grace from their bedroom. George nodded in the direction of Clyda,

   'Seems that it isn’t what she wanted, but she appears happy enough' he said quietly. Grace walked over to the girl and bent to examine the book making appreciative noises as she was shown it’s contents of stories and pictures. George poured two cups and tea and placed one of them in front of the opposite chair from him at the table. Willie sat down and sipped from it.

   'So what we going to do about that letter George?' he asked. George glanced sideways at the child as she became engrossed once more with the book on her lap.

   'I think I’m going to have to go and see Mr Green from the Children’s Board. It’s not as though we can keep her now that Flo’s mother wants the child back in England.' He sighed deeply and Willie nodded his head in agreement.

   'You’re right George. There’s nothing we can do now that she has said they want the child back. I wonder how they are going to get her back there. It’s not as though they can just stick her onboard a ship for England by herself, can they? They’re going to have to find someone to go with her, and I bet that’s going to cost.' Willie sat back in his chair and sipped again from his cup. Grace lifted her head from the book she was pretending to examine with Clyda.

   'I’m sure it will get sorted out alright' she said. 'It’s not as though this is the first time they will have had to solve problems like this, is it?' George nodded in agreement.

   'I will call in to see him today sometime, I have to go into Sydney, so might as well kill two birds with one stone.'

   'Pa, you’re not going to be killing any birds are you?' said a small voice from the kitchen floor. George grinned.

   'Not this time love, not this time,' he said. He paused to think it through for a moment. 'No,' he said, 'I think it might be better if I wrote to him. That way it will give him more time to decide what to do, and maybe things will take their time in happening.' The two men looked together at Grace and their nodding heads showed their agreement with the course of action. George stood from the table, pushing the chair back against the wall. 'Right young lady' he said, 'Time for you to go to play with Mrs Shepherd.'

   'Pa, it’s not Mrs Shepherd I go to play with, she only gives me my dinner, it’s her children I play with. You are so silly,' she said. The three adults exchanged glances, acknowledging that the young girl had probably understood all they had tried to say in code.

   Willie coughed nervously and nodded towards Clyda when George and Grace looked in his direction.

   'There are a couple of things I need to sort out with you Georgie,' he finally said, and inclined his head towards the front door. George nodded silently and rose from his chair, heading towards the front door. He turned and spoke to Grace,

   'Can you pop her next door for me Grace? I’m just having a chat with Willie.' Grace nodded her head, understanding that George needed Clyda to be distracted, and continued to engross herself with the book between Clyda and herself. She turned pages and talked to Clyda about the pictures on the pages, all the time trying to distract her from George and Willie heading to the door.

   George walked through the front door and stood on the garden path a few feet from the door as Willie came through. The two men stood on the path, Willie had an air about him which George did not recognise.

   'What’s the matter Willie' he asked, 'You don’t look too happy about something.' Willie looked down at his feet and scuffed the small gravel stones on the path with the toe of his shoe. There was silence for a few moments until he finally lifted his head and looked George in the face.

   'I wrote to the Boarding Department last week George.' He said. 'I told them we were leaving this address and could they take the child away. I told them we had had a letter from Flo’s mother and that the woman wanted Clyda back in England with them.' His eyes dropped to the path again. 'I’m sorry George, but I knew it would be too hard a thing for you to do, and yet the woman wants her granddaughter back with her. It’s only normal and natural she wants her, and there’s nothing we can do to keep her. I’m sorry George I did it for your good, as well as the child.' Willie looked at George, expecting him to explode in anger at having taken the initiative in writing the letter. George stared quietly down at the path between their feet, then across at the hedge running between the house and next doors before he spoke.

   'Alright Willie,' he said in quiet resignation. 'You probably did the right thing. I’ve been putting it off since that letter arrived from England.' He looked up into his friend’s eyes. 'Thanks Willie, you’ve taken a lot off my mind. It’s not going to be easy saying goodbye to the child, but we knew it was going to happen sometime or other, it was only a matter of time I suppose.' He gave Willie a thin smile. 'Thanks Willie' he said once more lifting his head to look up at the clear blue sky. 'Time we were getting off to work isn’t it?' Willie nodded his head in agreement and the two of them went back into the house, where Grace turned to them as they entered the room.

   'Everything alright Willie?' she asked. Willie nodded his head.

   'Just told George about the letter. He’s happy with it.' Grace stood to her feet and took George’s hand in hers.

   'I’m sorry we didn’t tell you George, but it had to be done, what with that letter arriving last week.' George nodded his head silently and turned to collect Clyda in his arms from the floor.

   'Pa!' she squealed, in mock surprise. George smiled into her eyes and hugged her to him before putting her back on the floor.

   'Get your toys for Mrs Shepherd, Clyda. Not too many though. Can’t have you cluttering her house up like you do with ours.'

   'Oh Pa, I don’t' the child chattered back and skipped off into their bedroom to gather a doll made from wood and fabric before coming back into the living room to take George’s hand in hers. George turned to Willie and said,

   'I’ll catch up with you in a minute Willie. I need to have a quick word with Iris about what we’ve just been talking about. Shouldn’t be long.' 

   'Take your time George. No hurry.' He replied.

   That day was like many others which Clyda had experienced.

She played in the garden with the two girls from next door, then on the floor in the kitchen, getting in Mrs Shepherd’s way until she shooed them off. Then they moved into the living room, and finally Iris fed them and put them together in one bed after they had eaten, so they could have a nap, as was the norm. During the afternoon Iris took all three girls up to the top of Phillip Street to the small disused quarry which had supplied some of the stone for the houses in the area of Neutral Bay, before it finally had becoming worked out and abandoned. It was a favourite playground for all the children in the neighbourhood, provided they were accompanied by a parent or elder sibling. All the children knew it and loved to play there, hiding in the broken rocks and pulling up the long stemmed weeds which had flourished there.

   At the end of the day George bathed her and dressed her in a long nightdress before tucking her into her side of their bed. He sat by her side and read her a story from her birthday present, and within minutes of starting to read her eyes closed and she fell peacefully asleep. George placed the book down quietly on the floor by her side of the bed and crept from the room into the living room, where Grace and Willie were seated in armchairs. Grace was reading a book and Willie that days’ edition of the Sydney Morning Herald which had lain untouched since its delivery earlier that day. George settled himself into one of the two remaining armchairs and took up his pipe, cleaning it and recharging it before lighting it. When it was creating large clouds of smoke he glanced over to the fourth chair which was empty. That had been the one which Florence had occupied.