the counter and asked the lad to accompany him outside the toy department. As they walked out, I started to follow but Mr Mac stopped me by telling me that it wasn’t necessary for me to go with them. I was surprised and somewhat annoyed that I was going to miss out on all the action. A few minutes later Mr Mac walked back in and he was furious. He took a deep breath,
Mr Mac ‘Never do that again.’
Amelia ‘Why not?’
Mr Mac ‘If that boy had’ve known the law, we would’ve been in big trouble. When I asked him if he’d like to empty his pockets all he had to say was ‘no’ and then he could’ve gone home, told his mother and she could sue us all for wrongful arrest and assault.’
He went on to explain that, two floorwalkers had to witness a person taking two things. He made me promise that if I ever saw anyone stealing again that I would ring for assistance and wait and let the floorwalker’s deal with it.
It wasn’t long after that incident I was transferred to the lolly and chocolate department and more importantly I was put in charge of the drink machine. I had it made.
I had a regular customer who came in every day without fail. She was what we would call a bag lady these days. She wore the same clothes every day with a fawn coloured lightweight overcoat, rain, hail or shine. Over her straggly peroxide hair, she wore a huge black brimmed hat adorned with flowers and black netting. On her arm she carried an extremely large, black handbag. Every day at about eleven o’clock she’d march hurriedly down the aisle of the shop from the Adelaide Street entrance and slam a one shilling piece (ten cents) onto the silver topped counter and yell at top note at me, ‘Two ginger beers.’ As soon as I poured them for her, she would throw them down her throat in rapid succession, then slam the disposable cups down onto the counter and she’d march away. I tried to make conversation with her a couple of times, but to no avail, she did not or would not respond. The poor old chook totally fascinated me.
One morning whilst working at the drink machine, word filtered through the shop that Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper and Richie Valance had all been killed in a plane crash. Within minutes, there were teenagers ten deep, milled around the record counter, all of them were weeping and wailing whilst the staff played their dead hero’s music over the loud speakers. I can remember thinking at the time that they were all nuts. I couldn’t for the life of me, understand why anyone could weep and wail for people they had never met, let alone seen. I still can’t understand it. I feel saddened by something like that, and I get tears in my eyes at hearing sad news, but to weep hysterically and wail over someone you don’t know. Not me, I think those people, must live boring meaningless lives.
Lori-Anne Bailey worked at Penny’s. She and I became friends and we began going out to dances or the movies on Friday and Saturday nights. One night we’d both been invited out to a drive-in movie with a couple of fellows whom we’d met at the Railway Institute dance on the Friday night. I can’t remember where we’d arranged to meet them, but I do know we never got to the drive-in. We were driven to a lonely deserted area on the outskirts of nowhere to a place we later learnt was called The Blunder.
We were informed by those wonderful specimens of manhood that if we didn’t come across, we could get out and walk. Both Lori-Anne and I didn’t hesitate, without even consulting the other, we both opened our doors in unison and hopped out of the car and started our long walk home. I had no idea where we were, let alone where we were heading or if we were heading in the right direction. The two fellows kept shouting abuse at us that we were prick teasers, to which I yelled into the night, ‘That’s better than being pricks like you, you rotten mongrels.’
We finally found our way out of the dense bushland area and onto an unsealed road. We were exhausted and thirsty but there wasn’t a house to be seen. After about another two hours of walking, we finally came to a darkened house and we were both too frightened to go in and ask for help. Lori-Anne said, ‘We’re passing Archerfield Aerodrome’,
I had to believe her, because she had a little bit of knowledge about the area. We could’ve been on Mars for all I knew. All I could see was a vast area of pitch black nothing. Finally, after about three hours of walking, we came to an intersection but there wasn’t any traffic to be seen. Lori-Anne said Ipswich Road was up to our left. We walked for about another ten minutes and came up to the main highway. There was still no traffic in sight and we were debating if we should continue on up to where Lori lived or to walk in the other direction to my home. Either way we were in for a long walk. Out of the blue a car pulled up alongside of us, the driver was middle aged but obviously an angel in disguise. He asked us if we were all right and we told him where we had walked from. Although I’d been warned never to accept lifts from strangers, I was secretly praying this man would invite us into his car. I asked him where he was heading and he replied, ‘Ipswich.’ My heart sank because I didn’t want to go to Lori-Anne’s house which was on the way to Ipswich, I wanted to get home to my own bed. But most of all I wanted to see my family. Lori-Anne was supposed to be spending the night at my place and I sensed she too didn’t want to go to her place probably because she’d have to answer too many questions from her parents. The man then asked us where we were going and dejectedly, I told him where I lived.
Without even hesitating he said, ‘Get in I’ll drive you home.’
It was after one in the morning before we finally crawled into bed. Fortunately, everyone was in bed asleep when we got home. I knew I wouldn’t have gotten any sympathy from Edith if she’d seen the state we were in. We were absolutely filthy our legs were almost black from the bush and we had cobbler’s pegs all over our clothes. As far as Edith was concerned, she thought I was a defiant little bugger who went out looking for trouble. Funnily enough for some inexplicable reason, she honestly believed, that because I was going out with a girl from work, that I was safe from harm. Ironically had she known that Lori-Anne lived at Inala, I wouldn’t have been allowed to associate with her because Inala had a reputation for being a bad place. It still hasn’t lost that stigma. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
After that night though, Lori-Anne and I never went out together again. I have no idea why not. Perhaps I subconsciously blamed her and her upbringing for getting me into that situation. I honestly don’t know why. I also don’t know why I had an uncanny knack of getting myself into difficult situations. As the old saying goes I didn’t look for trouble, it found me.
Chapter 11
How to Win Friends
I met Roslyn and Carmen Thompson and started to go out with them. Roslyn was my age and her sister, Carmen, was a year or two older. Roslyn was a nice girl but Carmen had the reputation of being easy, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying their company. I recall going to a party with them and on that occasion, I got my first taste of alcohol in the form of a bottle of Brandivino. In the early part of the evening I vividly remember all the females at the party gathered around the record player to listen to Elvis Presley’s new record Old Shep. There was not a dry eye amongst us. I don’t know if this is what caused me to drown my sorrows, but I gave that bottle of Brandivino a hell of a nudge. I was offered a lift home, which I gratefully accepted. As was my practice in those days, I got out of the car at the top of the hill near the Carmelite Monastery to walk home so that my family didn’t know I’d been in the company of boys. Walking was not on the agenda that evening. I alighted from the car, stood in the gutter and farewelled my friends with all the dignity of a young lady. As the taillights disappeared around the corner, I slowly slunk to the ground. I never had a hope of finding myself in an upright position again, so I manoeuvred my way down our street in the middle of the road, in the most dignified way that I could. I walked on my backside with the aid of my arms as wobbly crutches. I somehow managed to push my legs ahead of me. It was a very slow process. When I finally reached the bottom of our front stairs, I assessed the situation and gradually levered myself up the stairs by crawling on all fours. Somehow, I got to the bathroom and I lit the gas geyser without blowing myself up. I sat under the shower for what seemed like an eternity. I have no idea where the rest of the family was, but I was very thankful that no one was at home. I put my pyjamas on and staggered blindly to my bedroom with the aid of the