gold mines, country hotels and the way the depression seemed to be easing. When the doorbell rang, she looked relieved. ‘Excuse me, Mr Bertoli.’
Vivien heard her mother laugh and then Doug strode into the room. He stopped looking puzzled until Vivien spoke. ‘You know Eddie, Doug. From the club.’
Doug held out his hand. ‘You helped Vivien. Thank you.’
As they shook hands, Eddie responded, ‘No problem, mate.’
‘I’ve been showing Eddie the sights, Doug. He’s new here and going back to Melbourne soon.’
Doug smiled at Eddie. ‘What do you think of Sydney town?’
‘It’s showy all right, but I reckon Melbourne’s the place for me.’
Vivien smiled. ‘I don’t want to be rude, but maybe you should go now, Eddie. Doug and I need to talk.’ She touched Eddie’s sleeve as he was leaving. ‘I’m sorry you missed out on dinner.’
He waved her apology away. ‘Thanks for today. I had a real good time.’
‘I enjoyed it too. Look me up before you go back.’
‘I will,’ he paused, looked down at his feet and then back at her. ‘Don’t sell yourself short, Viv.’
In the parlour, her mother was sipping sherry with Doug, and fawning on him. ‘I saw your mother’s picture in the paper, Doug, opening an appeal for orphans.’
‘Other people’s misfortune gives her a purpose.’ His tone was terse.
‘What do you plan to do when you’re qualified?’
Doug shrugged when he answered. ‘I’m not sure yet, Mrs McCarthy.’
‘I’ve been hoping for some time that you and Vivien will name the day.’ Doug was silent and grim.
Vivien prayed to a God she didn’t believe in for the roof to collapse. Helen entered and played saviour. ‘Mum, I need help in the kitchen. Bob will be home soon.’ They scurried out.
Doug shot a quizzical look at Vivien, then said. ‘I came round to patch things up and find you’ve spent the day with Eddie.’
Vivien bristled. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’
Doug sighed, shook his head then leaned across the gap between the chairs where each sat. ‘I know, darling. I trust you and … I love you.’
‘Vivien tried to be calm. ‘If that’s true Doug, why don’t I have a ring on my finger?’
Doug looked down at the floor. ‘I’m not sure we should get married yet.’
‘Yet? Or ever? Remember New Year’s Eve, when you suggested we become engaged? That’s only a few weeks ago. I was so happy, so ridiculously, crazily happy.’
Doug shuffled his feet. ‘I know. I was too, but when I spoke to mother…’
Vivien swallowed, breathed deeply and asked, ‘What did she say?’
Doug looked down at the carpet, then into Vivien’s eyes and cleared his throat. ‘She said a man should establish himself before making plans to marry. I should concentrate on my career …. She reminded me you are very young.’
Vivien scoffed. ‘That’s her way of saying I’m not a suitable wife for her son.’
‘That’s not what she said.’
‘Be honest, Doug. It’s what she meant, isn’t it?’
‘There’s been a lot of gossip about us.’
‘What, exactly?’
‘Your, our behaviour. Late nights, drinking, night clubs. It’s not doing us any good. You shouldn’t be drinking at your age. Sometimes I don’t recognise you.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘You change when you drink. Even your lovely face. One minute you’re my dear Vivien, but one drink later you’re someone else…someone I … don’t know.’
His words hung between them. Vivien blinked back tears. Her head spun and she pressed her palms against her temples. She kept her voice low. ‘What are you saying?’
‘You should never drink.’
‘You drink.’
‘It doesn’t affect me in the same way.’
Trembling and flushed, Vivien stood and shouted, ‘You’re just looking for an excuse not to marry me. I’m not good enough for your darling mother. I know all about her. Thinks she’s a socialite. That’s what this is all about.’
Doug stood, his face set in hard lines again. ‘Don’t insult my mother. This is about you.’
‘You know damn well I’d never had a drink before we started going to Harry’s. I thought you wanted me to be sophisticated. What a fool I’ve been, believing all your talk about your great love and marriage.’
‘I’ve never lied to you. I’m not lying now. I want to marry you, but when you drink you look like a …a cranky koala.’
Vivien stood and looked down on him, her head whirling. ‘You take me to Harry’s, so you can drink and watch a dancing bear?’
‘You’re twisting my words.’
‘You just want to wriggle out of your promises by saying there’s something wrong with me. I don’t want any more crumbs from your table.’
Doug ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head.
‘Oh, Vivien, darling. We can work this out.’
No longer able to hold back her tears, Vivien ran from room saying. ‘Go, just go! Leave me alone.’
Vivien packed a suitcase and stuffed the tips she’d saved for her trousseau into her handbag. She looked out of the window at Pa who was sitting on the seat under the Moreton Bay fig tree, mumbling to himself. Maybe he was remembering the stables, the horses whinny and stamp. He’d soothe them with his gentle voice and firm strokes; they’d nuzzle his shoulder and sometimes nudge his face. She’d followed him around. He showed her how to put their feed bags on, how to hold her hand flat under an apple, keeping it steady so they could eat without hurting her. Their mouths, whisper-soft, brushed her palm like the flutter of an eyelash.
The back fence bowed under the weight of the morning glory vine, its flowers folding in the coming dusk, closing down for the night only to open again in the first rays of tomorrow’s sun, glorious and ready to meet the day, whatever it brought. Oh, Pa. How can I leave you?
‘Vivien, Vivien. Come down here at once, this minute, I tell you.’ At the sound of the angry, accusing voice, the knowledge of the screeching harangue to come and each day’s crippling disapproval, all doubt about leaving fled. Doug had made it clear he didn’t want to marry her; she’d look after herself, catch the first train out of Sydney wherever it was headed.
By the time she boarded the night train to Melbourne, Vivien was no longer buoyed by her bravado. Slumped in the corner of the carriage, she watched the lights thinning until all she could see in the window was her own reflection. Left behind were the hilly streets of Sydney, the perfume of frangipani, wisteria spilling over old bull-nosed verandas, banksia, jacaranda trees, oleanders, morning glory vines on old fences, people bustling and gossiping and the way her stomach contracted each time she saw the ocean. She wanted to be tossed again in its vastness, feel its indifference.
She dozed off and woke to the sound of shouting and lights flashing at Albury where the Melbourne-bound passengers had to change trains because of the stupid difference in the railway gauges between states. Stretched out in an empty compartment, she slept again.
When she awoke in gritty dawn, she saw a flat expanse of dry grasslands stretching