Vivien believed the pins went through the hat and into her mother’s head like the crown of thorns. Her father’s shoulders were hunched, and his head stuck out like a turtle’s. Helen and her husband, Bob, made up the family group while Vivien dawdled behind. Pregnant Helen sailed along like a ship in full sail. Bob had managed to get work as an electrician and now he was always on the go. Helen and Bob knew what they wanted and how to get it. The thought of waiting around at home for Doug to turn up made her feel sick. She caught up to Helen. ‘Tell Mum I’ve gone to town. I’ll be home for dinner.’
Vivien looked along the street where Eddie lived. Saturday night’s carousing had left its trail of empty beer bottles, crumpled grease-stained newspapers and fag ends, a patent leather dancing pump and a red feather boa. Slumped against a wall was a man in a dinner suit wreathed in red, green and yellow streamers fluttering in the breeze.
When he opened the door to her knock, Eddie’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth fell open; his arms were bare and she could see he had a heart-shaped tattoo on his right arm.
‘I could show you around today,’ she said.
She could see him swallow. ‘Yeah. That’d be real good.’
He ushered her into a large room at the end of a gloomy corridor.
‘You wait here. I’ll be back in a tick.’
Over the mantelpiece was an oil painting. In its foreground was a woman wearing a dark green, low cut evening dress. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head and her long white arms hung down on either side of her body, her hands supplicant. In the middle ground were soldiers, dead, wounded or bandaged; the background, a hill dotted with white crosses and twisted, bomb damaged trees. Vivien imagined all the young men who’d been injured or died in the war and were buried in other countries; the woman could be a mother, a sister, a wife or a sweetheart, condemned to live without the man or men she’d cared for and would never forget.
Eddie appeared with his hair slicked back and an eager smile on his face, ‘The jalopy’s parked out the back. How about a spot of lunch at Wongs? If you don’t like chink food, their bangers and mash are a bit of all right.’
Eddie tucked a serviette into his shirt collar, talked before, during and after the meal. Vivien’s head ached, her eyes, hot and scratchy; her stomach turned at the smell of food. She should be with Doug. Sunday was their best day. In summer, they usually drove down the south coast to swim, make love and plan their future.
Eddie only stopped talking long enough to wink at her and make some sort of clicking sound with his mouth. Badly spoken, dressed like a second-rate gangster from a Cagney film; he probably thought she liked him.
When Eddie knelt down at the edge of the Gap, Vivien felt sweat on her palms and ran back to the car thinking of all the people who’d committed suicide there. By the time Eddie joined her, she was tired and bored with his endless chatter. ‘What else do you want to see?’ she snapped.
Startled by her terse tone, he mumbled, ‘Do you want to go home?’
The poor chap just wanted to enjoy himself and please her. He didn’t seem very impressed with the sights; he’d been in Sydney long enough to see it all. She smiled to herself. He’s pretending. She decided to play along. ‘Let’s go and look at the Bridge.’
Eddie stood beneath it and looked at all the girders. ‘I thought I’d seen a lot of rivetin’, but it’d take a thousand riggers ten flamin’ years to fix that lot.’
As they strolled, he told her about the buildings he’d worked on in Melbourne and how he could see clear across the Yarra River to the houses on the other side—houses where people never worried about where their next feed was coming from or whether there was enough money to buy their kids shoes or heat the house. Where the air was fresh and there was no smell of gas or smoke, and the streets were clean.
Vivien told Eddie about the shanty town that had sprung up in the domain where they were walking. There’d been so many complaints; the homeless people had been made to move somewhere else, but she’d always felt sorry for them. One of them could’ve been her father. They walked through the Botanic Gardens to where they could sit and watch the sun set on the harbour. Eddie cleared his throat and began to recite.
This ev’nin’ I was sittin’ wiv Doreen,
Peaceful an’‘appy wiv the day’s work done,
Watchin’, be’ind the orchard’s bonzer green,
The flamin’ wonder of the settin’ sun.
Vivien laughed. ‘So you’re a “sentimental bloke”, Eddie.’
‘Know the thing off by heart. I recited it at the pub and won a chook. Got so fired up thought I’d try me luck on the wireless. Good prize money. Anyway, I got on the air, tried to say the lot, but they gonged me. When I wouldn’t stop, they paid me to shut up.’
Vivien laughed. ‘You’re always trying something, aren’t you, Ed?’
‘It’s the only way I’ll ever get a place of me own.’
‘What’s your gran’s house like?’
‘It’s clean and that, but the wrong side of the river. I want to live in one of the new suburbs with wide streets and a back yard where you can make a bit of a garden.’
‘Is there a girl waiting for you?’
Eddie hung his head and kicked at the pavement. ‘Nah. I had a girl once, but she … It doesn’t matter now. What about Doug? Does he mind you comin’ out with me?’
Vivien shrugged. ‘He doesn’t know.’
‘Is he sore because he ended up in clink and you didn’t?’
‘Something like that. He arrived just after you dropped me off. We had a row. I ... I threw a shoe at him.’
Eddie laughed and soon Vivien was laughing too. When he managed to stop, he shook his head in wonder. ‘Struth. I wish I’d seen that. I could set him straight about last night if you want.’
‘Thanks. It’s not just that.’
‘Do you really think he did the dirty on you?’
‘You saw that Gladys crawling all over him. What do you think?’
Tempted as he was to shaft Doug, he didn’t want to upset her. ‘Nah. Just a bit of fluff trying her luck. He’s only got eyes for you.’
Vivien glanced sideways at Eddie. He’d taken off his suit jacket and she could see the firm outline of his chest straining against the white shirt. His face was tanned and its lines had softened so he looked younger. Perhaps she’d only imagined the brutal side she’d glimpsed last night. She liked the way he threw his head back when he laughed. They walked arm in arm back to the Quay.
Vivien led Eddie into the front room where he stopped and stared at the picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus hanging over the mantelpiece.
‘You seem to know Mum’s favourite holy picture.’
‘Bloody thing’s hauntin’ me.’ He perched on the edge of a chair and dangled his hat between his legs. ‘Don’t get me wrong. Me grandad might have been a dago, but Gran said he didn’t believe in anythin’. She’s a Methodist.’
‘We’re Irish Catholics from way back. They’re the worst. All gloom and damnation. Are you a Methodist too?’
‘I don’t go much on religion. The fat lady in the circus wouldn’t go anywhere without that picture. It was the first thing she hung up and the last thing she took down. Gave me the ‘orrors.’
Mrs McCarthy entered the room and looked bewildered when Eddie grabbed her hand and pumped it.
‘Bertoli’s the name. Pleased to meet yer.’
She drew away and glowered