Places

Places can be geographical, situational or emotional and are often interrelated.

A person’s life story doesn’t just begin at birth so, to understand someone, we need to have some knowledge of their generational background since grandparents, parents and siblings each have their own history and emotional baggage, whether good or bad. For this reason Places begins with Iris and Rose’s own stories before my story begins.

Often we observe that an abused person attracts, or is attracted to, an abuser, unless they have had some help in dealing with the harm done to them – to be lifted out of the mire or off the treadmill. They need our understanding and compassion, rather than condemnation.

Be aware that life is never all-good or all bad but that, even on the worst days, there are moments of hope and joy, often expressed through food, outings and conversations.

The reason why I have written this book is to be one person who stands up to sexual abuse and violence by stepping out with the truth, despite the likelihood of being ridiculed or misunderstood. It would have been easier to have hidden the shame and done nothing but my hope is that others, too, will rise up with me.

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Chapter 1

Oakleigh Rose And Iris

Rose awoke to the sound of sparrows singing and scuffling in the garden, their tiny beaks looking for food. She could also hear her dog, Amber, scratching and crying behind the laundry door, needing her morning wee. Her elder sister, Beverly, lay asleep, in all her beauty, in the bed next to her. She never slept with her mouth open nor did she snore. She was so perfect with her long blonde hair and voluptuous breasts, unlike Rose, who had auburn hair and a flat chest, apart from two small bumps; though she was pretty and petite.

Letting out a deep sigh, Rose thought to herself, Oh well! I’d better let Amber out or she will put a puddle on the floor in the laundry near the toilet and Mother will come in and walk in it with her special slippers. That’ll make her as mad as a rattlesnake and she’ll grab my little dog and rub her nose in it. Amber will yelp, put her ears back, cower, and smell really bad; and then I won’t be able to kiss her until I wash her face. Amber was a little Australian terrier, with a black nose that matched her black, diamond eyes. She was also pretty and petite, which was why Rose loved her. She was a lot like her; fun, a little shy, and silly at times. With such a love for animals, Rose could have been a veterinarian, had she not left school at fourteen.

She felt a little guilty that morning as she planned to go to the local dance with her sister, Beverly, and wasn’t going to tell her fiancé, Edward, as she felt that he was just so boring, even though they were to be married in six months time. In fact, the celebration of their engagement had already taken place. She had her ring and had already received wonderful gifts such as double and single bed linen; blankets for the planned children; towels; vases and ornaments; and even painted pictures for their home. However, Rose always felt so empty when she looked into Edward’s eyes and kissed him. It was as if there was a stop sign or a brick wall preventing her from feeling more deeply for him.

They’d met at a local dance, four months earlier, and he was ever so keen on her. Rose had felt that she’d be helping to ease the financial burden on her family by becoming Edward’s wife; and also that it was time to make a new life for herself, away from her mother’s deep depression, which had been fuelled by the fear and torment of war.

Rose was born in 1940, during World War II, and later, when the entry of Japan into the war birthed a real fear and threat of invasion, Rose and her family were already living in Oakleigh, a Melbourne suburb. Their house backed onto the city railway lines, which meant that whenever a train went by, the vibrations made the whole house quake; rattling cups and saucers, and causing some of Iris’s finer collectables to fall over on the shelves. That had driven her mad. The noise of the trains, and of the planes flying over the city, upset her greatly, causing her to live in total fear, torment and terror on a daily basis. She’d run through the house, screaming and crying, Bombs! Bombs! We’re all going to be killed! We’re all going to die! Run children! Run and hide! We’re all going to be blown up; maimed, lose arms, legs, burnt, disfigured! Iris would have real terror in her eyes as she ran out into the small yard, flapping her arms in the air. Even as a very young child, Rose would often be swept into the madness. She would grip the walls and wonder if that was all there would be to her life. Thankfully, not one bomb ever hit the city or their house.

Despite being close to Iris and loving her dearly, Rose had never understood her brokenness or her depression. Being so young, she had never been through such torment, though, at seventeen, she still had a lot more life ahead of her. At that time, she worked with her mother on a factory line, making boxes for Pelaco, an Australian shirt company. Getting married seemed like a way out for her, as she could be Edward’s wife, stay at home, cook, clean, have children and be safe. That picture in Rose’s head was so much better than being on a factory floor, but her heart didn’t agree with her head.

Already twenty four years old, Edward worked as an accountant for a large firm and was mature, sensible, refined and very dapper. Unfortunately, Rose found him dull and, each time she thought about marrying him, felt nauseated, instead of excited, like she had been led to believe love would make her feel. She wasn’t even looking forward to their honeymoon night, let alone a lifetime together. Her thoughts and heart were given to some mystical, handsome, dark-haired man; someone resembling Elvis. Edward was handsome, but just not what she’d dreamt of, or visualized. She felt she wanted to flee, but had nowhere to go. In her mind, going to the dance would be a way to escape that confusion.

Rose got her thinking back on track and ran to get Amber, who greeted her joyfully with lots of licks, while thrashing her tail, which was spinning like a helicopter. As she sat on the back step, watching over her little puppy running back and forth doing her wee and sniffing the cool morning air, she thought about how dogs were just so much fun and always seemed to be happy. Then she heard her mother getting up.

Roses, Iris called out, using her pet name for Rose, as she loved those flowers. Simply calling her daughter by that name made her smile and sent joy to her heart, lifting her out of her depression for a short time. Come and talk to me about what you and Beverly are up to tonight. What about Edward?

Oh, dear! Rose thought to herself, knowing that her mother would want to know all the details. I’ve already told him that I’m tired and need a night at home, so I’m not letting Mum stop me from going to the dance. Edward was confident in himself, not the jealous type and always content to stay at home, so she knew there was no chance of seeing him there.

Iris, also named after a beautiful flower by her mother, was like a movie star. Had she had more self-worth and self-esteem, she could have been on the stage in Broadway; or in Hollywood, appearing in movies. She’d wake up in the morning, brush her hair, wash her face and clean her teeth, then apply her bright red ‘lippy’, as she liked to call it. She would say, Don’t go anywhere without your lippy on. Iris exuded glamour. She was a woman people would look at when she was made up and say, Wow! She was a glam! She was also ahead of her time, as she lived and acted free of regard for conventional rules and practices. In these she was Bohemian. She was a real character and would even do acrobatic head-stands. She was a woman of great physical and inner strength but, due to a lost love many years before, she was very broken.

Iris had shared the story with her daughters and son many times, and the girls would always plead, Tell us more about Jerome; please, Mum! She’d then recount her very special memory about how, that morning, when she was going to work in the café, she’d felt that something extraordinary was going to happen that day. She’d put on her café uniform; a petite, white-collared blouse, her black, tightly-fitted pencil skirt, and an apron, with ‘Bob’s Café’ embroidered on it. However, when it came to her shoes, she’d chosen to wear her favourite, red, high-heels instead of her ‘flatties’ for work. She had such a love for shoes that she had a cupboardful. Iris wouldn’t normally have worn such high shoes to work a ten hour shift, but, that day, she felt in her heart that wearing her favourite shoes would make something different happen in her life.

Her day started at 7:00 a.m. The breakfast rush had begun and the café was full. Sunny- side up; eggs up; coffee and tea orders. The place was humming with people laughing and food cooking. Iris loved the crackling sound and smell of bacon and eggs frying. She would often dream of being one of the customers; sipping fresh, black coffee and sharing breakfast with the man of her dreams. To relax, rest and be served; what a treat that would be!

Well, she thought, I’d better get started. She had to remind herself that she was at work and to stop daydreaming. Grabbing her order book and a pencil, she went to greet her first customer. Good morning, Sir. What would you like to order for breakfast? The bacon and eggs are just to live for. My boss has his own chickens, so the eggs are superb.

The gentleman had his head down, reading the Melbourne Age newspaper. When he looked up, his eyes went from her face down to her magnificent red high-heels, which he stared at for what felt like ten minutes. Breakfast? he murmured. After seeing you, I don’t need breakfast! He had a French accent and was just so handsome. My beautiful girl, you should be a movie star. You even have shoes and red lipstick that match. You are splendid! What is your name?

Straight away, Iris replied, Iris Isobel Jean.

He responded with such honesty, and with what looked like tears in his eyes, With a name like that, you should be famous.

Iris could hardly breathe, let alone answer that handsome man. She felt herself go all tender, delicate and a little frail; like she was going to faint, as her heart was pumping like a steam train. As she stood there, she felt like it could be seen throbbing through her blouse. For the first time in her life, she felt like a woman. She breathed deeply and a light sigh escaped from between her lips that had never been kissed.

The gentleman spoke again. I’m sorry! Please let me introduce myself. My name is Jerome and I’d like to order a black coffee and French toast, with a little honey on the side. Please forgive me for being so forward in public, but, Iris Isobel Jean, you are simply breathtaking, so please take that as a very high compliment. Iris thanked him and rushed off, adjusting her skirt as she walked towards the kitchen with his order.

She felt like a mess, as the man’s comments had sent her temperature soaring. She felt like she was on fire. Perhaps she was sick and should go home? Escaping into the Ladies’ Room, she pulled out the handkerchief she’d tucked into her bra, wet it, and wiped her neck and chest until her body cooled. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she noticed her eyes were glistening and her cheeks were flushed, as if she had extra rouge on. She had such a glow. What is happening? she wondered. Having been brought up by her father, she had no motherly role model or relationship to help her understand those feelings.

At that time, she lived at home with her father, brothers and sisters. When she was a young girl, her mother had died from peritonitis after a home abortion, leaving behind seven children. Hers was one of the many fatalities in a land of lack, where desperate women, having had so many children, whether out of wedlock or in great poverty, would take it upon themselves to abort their unborn child by inserting a crochet hook into the uterus. The traumatic event of finding her mother dead in a blood-drenched bed had thrown Iris, as the eldest, into a role she was too young for; helping to care for herself, her brothers and sisters, the home and her father. She’d felt for her beautiful, desperate mother but had thought to herself, Mother, it would’ve been worth having ten more babies, rather than suffering the grief we now have to bear.

Iris was twenty years old and had never looked at a man or felt that way before. She thought, Maybe this is love! As she reflected on that place in her heart, she felt it race again. Oh, dear! she said out loud to herself. That’s enough, Iris Isobel Jean! She danced a little twirl in her red stilettos, before adding, Get back to work now! Her smile was so full it almost swallowed up her face. That new feeling made her feel content.

When she got to the counter, she put Jerome’s order up. Normally she would have had five tables done by then. Ok! she ordered herself. Get it together! She took a deep breath, straightened her skirt and told herself to smile and relax. Even so, she couldn’t help replaying his words in her head; how he’d said she was beautiful. Reordering her thoughts, Iris went and served her other tables. When she heard the husky voice of the head chef call out, French toast up; honey on the side; black coffee, she confidently picked up the order, held her stomach in, shoulders back, and walked to Jerome’s table. She looked at him and knew what had happened. She’d felt that wearing her favourite high-heels would bring something special into her life that day, and in had walked love.

Jerome helped her put the food onto the table and said, I’ll be coming here every morning, from now on, just to see you, Iris Isobel Jean. May I call you Iris?

Of course you can. My name is quite a mouthful. I work six days a week, Monday to Saturday, ten hours a day. I get an hour for lunch and two fifteen minute breaks; one for morning tea and one for afternoon tea, so that gives me a lot of breaks, which is good for my feet.

And what beautiful feet they are; so petite in those wonderful shoes!

Iris had a size four shoe-fitting; very small. Oh these are my favourite, she responded. I don’t wear them every day. Jerome, please excuse me. I must let you eat your breakfast before it gets cold, and get back to my other tables.

Reaching out and resting a hand on her arm, he requested, Please bring me another black coffee in ten minutes, because I don’t think I can live without you.

Oh, no! Iris felt that temperature thing happening again and rushed off to another table, trying to only think about what the people were ordering.

After ten minutes, Iris renewed Jerome’s coffee. Looking up at her, he declared, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, and I’ll give those eggs and bacon a try. Miss you already, Iris!

Jerome visited the café every morning and, on the Saturday, he asked her if they could meet for a movie that night. Iris politely responded, Yes, I’d enjoy that very much. Thank you! She couldn’t wait. She was enjoying that new love, temperature feeling. Hurrying to the kitchen, she asked her boss for permission to leave thirty minutes early as she had her first date that evening.

Looking at her with a soft, fatherly smile, he replied, Certainly, Iris. You’re my best girl; always hard-working, on time and putting in extra every day. He smiled and shared in her happiness as he granted her request.

Back home, Iris told her family about her wonderful meeting with Jerome and asked for their approval to go and see a movie with him that night. Her father commented, He’s so lucky to have one of my beautiful daughters.

Even though it was the spring of 1933, Melbourne weather was still a little chilly, so Iris chose to wear her black skirt, teamed with a baby-blue, mohair sweater under a woollen jacket, and black high-heels. She always looked very smart as she had great fashion sense, loved sewing and made a lot of her own clothes. Also, as she worked long hours with overtime, she could afford to dress well. Her father approved and encouraged her fashion sense; after all she was twenty and had high moral standards. She was still a virgin, and planned to stay that way until she was married.

As she walked the short distance to the movie theatre in the chill of the early evening, she felt so warm inside her body and had a sense of feeling complete in some way. There he was! Her heart leapt and her tummy had butterflies. She felt her cheeks go all warm. There was that temperature feeling again and she loved the way he made her feel.

Jerome leant towards Iris, pulled her close to him and, with a warm, gentle kiss on each other’s cheek, they greeted one another. He put his arm around her waist and guided her into the cinema, as he had already purchased the tickets.

As they sat watching the movie together, Jerome placed her hand inside his, and cradled it with his other hand. Iris’s heart was racing. That man was so gentle, yet strong, and she felt safe being so near him. She had no fear, just a warm sensation all through her body; a calm feeling she’d never felt before. She felt at home; settled in her heart and mind, and just wanted him to hold her all night.

Later, when Jerome walked Iris to his small flat, above a milk bar in Oakleigh’s main street, those feelings overtook her and they made love. She felt so alive. Their kisses were deep and long, like a cool breeze on a hot summer’s night, and she felt their bodies melt into each other as they became one. Their lovemaking felt like a piece of art; like a long dance filled with harmony, as if music was playing.

After hours of making love, they went for a walk under the light of the moon and the stars. Jerome stopped walking and turned to her. Taking hold of both her hands, he whispered, Iris, I said it to you the first time we met in the café; I can’t live without you. Iris looked into his eyes, jumped forward, and, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissed him deeply. He then walked her home. They kissed longingly and remained standing together for some time, each not wanting to say goodbye.

Every night that week, and the weeks that followed, they took long walks, talked, ate together, laughed and made plans. They made passionate love and held each other, caressing and kissing for hours. Jerome came to the café every morning just to breathe in his new- found lady.

One Monday morning, however, he didn’t show. Iris worked all day, constantly watching the door with each customer coming in, knowing there was nothing she could do but wait for her shift to end. Finally, she was able to run to his flat to see what’d happened to him.

When Iris got to his place, he was there. Letting her in, he sat her down close to him. Both were most upset as he revealed he’d been conscripted into the French army and would have to go for military training, which meant returning home to his country. She didn’t understand. Don’t go! she begged. We love each other. If you get killed, I’ll surely die!

He answered, Oh Iris, my sweetheart, I’ll be back. Our love is forever and always. Iris trusted Jerome and his word, so simply asked, When are you going?

On Friday.

But it’s Monday. That’s only four days.

I know. Let’s just enjoy the last week in each other’s arms. Can you get some time off from the café? We can go for a ride on the motorbike and see the ocean, the Twelve Apostles and the mountains. We can make love wherever we find a place that’s discreet. So Jerome and Iris filled their last four days together with love and passion.

On the Thursday, the day before Jerome was to leave, Iris felt a little unwell and suspected she might be pregnant. She didn’t want to tell him, as she felt he had enough to go through without adding that burden, reassuring herself with the hope that he’d return quickly, once his military service was over, and then they’d be married.

On their last day together, Iris met Jerome in front of the café and got to have one of her dreams come true; she would be a customer in the same café, where she had worked so hard, and would be sitting with the man of her dreams. My sweet lady, Jerome declared, I want to sit and relax with you, while we have breakfast together. Iris tasted her first slice of French toast and, as the honey ran down her chin, Jerome reached over, smiled and gently wiped it off. They laughed and ate, as they shared how wonderful their lives were going to be.

Halfway through their meal, Jerome said, Iris Isobel Jean, will you be my wife? Jerome took her hand and cradled it, as he always did, and asked again, Will you be my wife?

All of her dreams had finally come true. She felt as if angels from heaven filled the place and she could hear that beautiful music again; the same as when they’d made love. What felt like hours, before she answered, was really but a moment, while Iris thought, Why God? Why does he have to go away? She squeezed his hand, as if to never let it go, and felt a deep love well up inside her. At that moment she said, Yes!

Jerome kissed Iris gently on her cheek and said, Let’s eat up, so we can go for a ride in the mountains. Iris and Jerome finished breakfast and, before leaving, they announced the exciting news of their engagement to her boss and work friends; and how they’d all be invited to the wedding, once he returned. They were all so happy, and Iris felt like her life had just begun.

As Jerome started up his motorbike at the front of the café, Iris hopped into the sidecar and they both fitted on their helmets. They travelled for hours, visiting the Twelve Apostles and other tourist sites. The road was long and adventurous, and the ocean was so beautiful and crystal clear. When they found a safe place near a stream, looking across the mountains,

Jerome lay down a blanket and they made love. Iris felt safe with him, for he carried peace in his heart and was a man of strength, courage and romance. As that would be the last time in each other’s arms, the day ended too fast for them both, and they parted in tears.

Iris took the Friday morning off from work, dressed in the same outfit she’d worn on their first date and hurried to the wharf. When she saw Jerome, she ran and leapt, like a magnet, into his arms, kissing him; with neither wanting to be pulled apart. As they said their goodbyes, something felt wrong and they both knew it, but didn’t understand.

A week later, Iris was still feeling unwell, so she went to her family doctor, who confirmed she was several weeks pregnant. She lived in hope of Jerome’s return.

By the time she’d reached the eighth month of her pregnancy, Iris had saved enough money to give up work for the final four weeks. All those months on her feet had taken a toll on her, as had waiting, and looking at the door each time that maddening bell announced a new customer, longing for Jerome to walk back into her broken life. During those four weeks, she would get up early every Thursday and go and sit in the café, just as they had done that day he’d left. She would place her order for French toast, knowing it to be Jerome’s favourite and, since he’d introduced it to her, it had become hers as well. She felt sad, as she knew Jerome was French but, because their relationship had happened so fast, she had never asked him anything about his place of birth or about his family. She had just taken it for granted that all that would be hers to discover, once he returned, when they would get married and have the rest of their lives to share, laugh and enjoy times together.

Iris gave birth to a son, who she named Daniel. She could see Jerome in his eyes and continued to long for his return, but he never did. When she finally tried to find him, no one had any information or had even heard of him. She became very broken and lost her trust in people, since she realized he must have lied about who he was. That romantic encounter had not only taken her purity, but had left her without a husband, or a father for her son.

Eventually, she gave up all hope of his returning to her, but felt, maybe, if she had shared her suspicions of being pregnant with his child, knowing she was a virgin, he would have realized that it had not been a ‘stop over’ love affair for her. Now it felt she had had a son to a stranger, as she could find no evidence that Jerome had even existed. She also doubted her mind. Had she not had their son, she would have thought she had gone mad and dreamt him up. Iris also felt guilt and shame.

Night after night was filled with nightmares of war and bombings. She would see Jerome being blown up, running, screaming, with limbs missing and lying in the dirt. Iris felt in her heart he was dead and a part of her died too. Tormented by her beloved’s possible cause of death, she would wake during the night, screaming in fear and horror, to find her bed and night gown saturated in sweat. That would disturb her son, so they would both be crying. Terror, torment and fear had come into their lives.

Rose could hear her mother calling and realized she had been distracted by thoughts of her mum’s past. Rose! Rose! her mum was now yelling. As she got up from the back step to open the flywire door, her little terrier, in her excitement and eagerness for breakfast, almost tripped her up. Flowing out of her earlier thoughts, Rose felt an overwhelming feeling of compassion for her mother and wrapped her arms around the woman she loved and adored. She felt all cosy, as her mum was wearing her blue and pink Chenille dressing gown, which was warm, soft and fluffy. She then went to the fridge to get the leftovers from the night before, grabbed the chopping board, and began reducing the leftover lamb stew and veggies into small pieces for Amber. Meanwhile, her puppy, always the life of the party, made them laugh, as she ran around in circles of excitement at their feet.

Iris was making her morning coffee in a beautiful, rose-painted cup, which was standing on a matching saucer. She was very regal with her coffee, using only the best cups and saucers, as she said they made it taste better. She collected antiques and had many beautiful sets. She liked her coffee very strong with three sugars, and said it kept her going all day long. She sat down at the kitchen table, lit up her first cigarette of the day and drew the smoke back deeply into her lungs, as if to pull strength out of the nicotine. She was such a heavy smoker, that people often called her ‘Smoky’.

Looking at Rose, she inquired, What are you up to? I’m your mother and I can smell a rat. Who’s the rat and what’s his name? she laughed, with a husky smoker’s voice, the tone of which sounded both sexy and scary.

Rose knew her mother thought she had another man. That wasn’t so, but she was still looking for the one in her heart, so in that sense, her mum was right. Meeting her eyes, Rose huffed, I just want some fun without stuffy, old Edward.

Sighing, Iris pulled in her chair and warned, That’s not a good sign, Rose. What are you doing? Going dancing without Edward? You’re not even married yet. Iris had known that feeling of true love and real passion; and although her husband, Jack, was a truly wonderful man; faithful, loyal and a hard-working provider; she never felt the same love for him that she had experienced with Jerome. Despite knowing that, Jack loved her very much and treated her with great respect. From when he had first met her, he had loved her young son, as if he were his own flesh and blood. He had taken him close to his side and into his heart and had never rejected him. He had felt blessed to have them both, as it had given him a reason to live; and Iris had found a safe place in which to raise her child.

When she had questioned Rose’s motives, she had been speaking with the wisdom gained from her own experiences. She knew Rose was up to something, and that it spelt trouble with a capital ‘T’.

Mum, it’s just for a little fun with Beverly and, who knows, Bev might meet her husband tonight and I’ll be with her. Rose was trying to talk more about her sister in order to draw her mother’s attention away from herself; however Iris was being her usual, wise self, since she knew all the tricks in the book.

Iris continued, Rose, don’t you know we’ve had enough heartache and trouble in this family? If Edward finds out you’re out and about without him, the marriage could be called off in a flash. This is a small suburb. We don’t want the neighbours or others talking about our family and we certainly don’t need any more shame put upon us and our reputation. I had to learn the hard way. Falling pregnant and having a child out of wedlock brought a lot of pain and shame, and I don’t want you going through the same thing. It also doesn’t help that we live in this small, two-bedroom house and that your brother has gone a little mad.

Daniel was very handsome, just like his dad, but was unwell in his mind. He lived in a room he’d made for himself in the roof space of the house with a ladder providing the only way access. He disliked the fact that he couldn’t find his father, always asking where he was and when he would be coming back; making life uncomfortable for the entire family. Believing himself abandoned by his dad, he was consumed by feelings of unforgiveness towards him. Like his mother, terror also lingered behind his eyes, having entered through the brokenness and rejection they both felt.

Frequently, at night, he would torment Rose. He’d climb down the ladder, go into the girls’ room with a stocking over his head, take one of Beverly’s scarves, and tie it around Rose’s neck and face as if to smother her. He would hold it tightly, so her face was all distorted, pulling hard and telling her he was going to kill her if she made a noise. She never did scream or make a sound. Their mother felt unfair sympathy for her son, and Rose, being the younger of the two girls, was the easier prey. He never touched Beverly.

Daniel was jealous of the girls, especially Rose, as she was very close to their mother. He had had Iris to himself for several years before Jack and the girls had come along, so he felt he had a special bond with her. As a result, he was very possessive and would buy her presents every week; great presents like antiques. He would also go into graveyards and steal angels and beautiful crosses from the graves for his mother’s garden or the sunroom or wherever she wanted them to go. As Iris loved collectables, she adored those presents, though she never realized they were stolen. She just thought they were second-hand.

One hot, humid, Melbourne summer’s day, Daniel had taken Rose to the local pool. She had been so excited to be holding her brother’s hand, thinking he had changed and was caring for her. Because of the heat, she had wanted to wade in the small, shallow, children’s pool, but, instead, he had taken her hand, that had begun to tremble, and pulled her towards the large pool, declaring, I’ll take you for a swim.

Rose had pleaded with him, Daniel, I can’t swim!

He already knew that, as she was only five years old. Swimming her out to the middle of the pool, he looked into her beautiful, blue eyes, just like her mother’s, and said, Goodbye, little Rose Petal! Then, in a teasing and mocking tone, he had chanted, Roses! Roses! Sink in the water! No Mummy to save you! Laughing, and with that terrorizing look in his eyes, he had swum away and left her there to drown.

She could hear him laughing and laughing, as her lungs were filling with water and she began to sink down to the bottom of the pool. Fortunately, she had been saved but, from that day, Rose hated deep water and would never go in it again. She never even wanted to learn how to swim and that fear was to remain with her.

Daniel had become a real terror in her life. When Rose got home, shaking and very white from the lack of oxygen to her lungs, she had run to her mother for comfort and told her about his behaviour and of how he had betrayed her trust. Iris had lit up a fag and exclaimed,

Oh, no! with terror in her eyes as she made her coffee; three sugar cubes, Plunk! Plunk! Plunk! black and very strong; and then had swallowed some white pills as she couldn’t handle the strife in her life. If only it’d all go away! If only his father could come back and say, ‘Sorry. I love you Daniel.’ and help us, but all this rejection is too much to bear.

Breaking out of her thoughts, she had responded vehemently, Rose, your brother has an excuse for his bad behaviour. Daniel has never met his father, because he never returned from the war and is probably dead, so leave him be! Her latter comment was shouted in an effort to expel all the built-up pain and damage from her body.

Daniel had then stuck his tight, bitter tongue out at Rose while looking at her with rage and murder in his eyes. He had wanted her dead and had thought the swimming incident would have been a good way to eliminate her from his life. He had then climbed up the ladder, through the manhole, into the roof cavity, and hadn’t come down for days; and on those nights he hadn’t tormented her. Rose always wondered how he went to the toilet, discovering later that he would collect his urine in glass milk bottles. He had also gone without food as he liked to punish himself as well as others in his family. As a result, the heavy oppression could be felt throughout the house.

Jack never said anything, nor did he touch him in order to discipline him as Iris would have killed him, so to speak. She protected Daniel in a strange way. The girls got smacked and punished but Daniel just hid in the ceiling. His very presence was a constant reminder of Iris’s shame. Both mother and son knew it and felt there was no forgiveness for their past pain. The whole neighbourhood knew she had been made pregnant by that French stranger, who had come to their town and then left to go to return to his own country but had never come back to marry her. What torment they felt! Those red high-heels had brought her much love but also much shame, which had then torn them both apart.

Rose thought to herself, Dear Mother! What she’s been through!

Rose! Rose! Roses! Iris’s voice brought her out of her reverie. Stop daydreaming! This night out with your sister had better not bring this family any more shame. Keep your eyes on Edward and not on any tall, dark, handsome stranger.

***

Chapter 2

Rose’s True Love

Rose chose to wear the beautiful, blue dress her mother had made for her engagement party, as it showed off her very shapely body and legs. She had a very small waist, which, Iris would quip, was a waste of time. She had set her hair into bouncing curls and wore a soft, pink lipstick. Just like her mother, she also never went anywhere without her ‘lippy’, but differed in that, whereas Iris loved the rich reds and oranges, she liked soft colours. She also had her mother’s alluring, blue eyes that resembled the ocean on a clear day.

The sisters left for the dance at 6:00 p.m.; Rose carrying a plate of egg and lettuce sandwiches and Beverly some cakes, for good measure. Why are you out tonight without Edward? asked Beverly, trying to capture her gaze as Rose shuffled along beside her, staring at her stilettos clicking on the pavement. Beverly drew nearer. Changing your mind? she probed. She stepped still closer and observed, He doesn’t seem right for you, little sister. Rose was running out of room on the path.

Bev, Rose urged, you don’t understand! Look, I just need a little excitement. I’ll be… we’ll be fine. The wedding is set in stone and only God can stop it.

The moment they entered the dance hall, she saw him; jet-black hair; rolled-back fringe; brown eyes - an Elvis Presley look-alike. There was the man she had dreamed up in her mind, hidden in her heart and waited to meet. He was right there in front of her on that very night and she could tell he’d also seen her. Rose had felt she had to go to the dance that night, as she sensed something special was about to happen. Just like her mother, in her love story with

Jerome, that temperature thing was happening to her and she feared she was about to faint. That had never happened with Edward.

The dark, handsome stranger moved quickly across the dance floor towards her. He had a cheeky grin on his face and was laughing with excitement. Hi, beautiful girl, you’re wearing my favourite colour, baby blue, and your eyes are bluer than the dress; crystal-clear like the ocean. My, you are so beautiful! My name is David and who have I the honour of meeting on this perfect night?

Even though her heart was beating so fast and she was feeling as if her body was on fire, she smiled and answered with a giggle, My name is Rose and I think you’re quite funny.

David was a bit of a comedian but, right then, he was very serious. He said, Let’s dance! Rose was suddenly conscious of the fact that, being a small place, most of the people there knew her and also that she was Edward’s fiancée. Hoping to find real love that night, she had left her engagement ring at home so, even if David had been looking for signs of singleness, the truth was hidden. Nevertheless, she believed no-one could blame her for wanting a soul-mate.

They danced nonstop for what seemed like hours; talking and laughing together; their smiles so wide they both felt like their faces would crack. As it was the fifties, Rock ‘n’ Roll was the new young person’s dance. They moved to Ricky Nelson’s ‘It’s Late’, Eddie Cochran’s ‘C’mon Everybody’ and Bill Haley’s ‘Rock Around The Clock’. They were having the time of their lives. As they danced David kissed Rose’s cheek several times, causing her to feel elated. She had never laughed that much in all her seventeen years of life.

Eventually, David grabbed Rose’s hand and said, Let’s get some of that punch and food. All this dancing has made me thirsty and hungry. What about you, Rose?

Rose felt so safe with David and that she could live without food or water for days, as long as she had him by her side. However, to make him happy, she replied, Yes, I am thirsty; and hungry too, and she fixed her eyes on him as if he was the only other person in the room.

He kissed her cheek again and led her over to the food table where many of her acquaintances stood, staring and frowning; their mouths either open and gasping or tightly shut, as if they had eaten sour grapes. Rose and David were in their own little cocoon and oblivious to all the disappointment and disapproval that was now filling the hall.

When Beverly strode over to them and whispered gruffly in her ear, I’ll see you in the powder room! Rose swiftly pulled her hand out from David’s and promised she’d be back soon.

They hadn’t even entered the room before Beverly started berating her. What are you doing? You can’t do this to our family! You’re engaged to Edward and that’s final! Think about Mum, Rose; the pain and tears, the physical and mental hours she has put into making your wedding dress, each pearl and sequin sewn by her own hands, not to mention the veil. Mother has put so much of her hard-earned wages into the preparations for your wedding. Oh, Rose! What a scandal!

Quick to answer all Beverly’s accusations, Rose replied, That’s why there’s such a thing called an engagement, Bev. It gives you time to make up your mind. I’m not married to Edward yet and I was just dancing.

That man has kissed you several times and you haven’t stopped him once. You’ve fallen into a trap, Rose. Everyone can see it that you are enjoying those kisses!

Just like Mother’s love story, Rose sighed. I too have found that temperature thing. It’s chemistry! You know, like I’m home; comfortable, safe, and everything’s meant to be. He’s the man of my dreams. Maybe it’s my fate to meet David tonight.

Oh, you already know his name? Bev replied sarcastically. "Of course, let’s just ruin more of our family’s reputation. Rose, I want you to go out there and tell that man you feel sick and need to go home immediately. I’m not letting you hurt our family by dancing and romancing with that stranger. It’s obvious he’s from out of town. He looks like a rebel to me; thinking he’s all-handsome with that Elvis haircut to attract the girls. Get a grip on your emotions and think of your future with Edward. He is stable and we all know his family.

Remember your engagement party, the dress Mother made, the gifts and the smiles from Mum and Dad as you and Edward kissed. You’re letting some stranger come and ruin it all!"

Oh Beverly, shut up! You always think you’re just so perfect with your 36DD cup bra and your intelligence and elegance! You’re Mother’s favourite! Anyway, it doesn’t matter what happens to little, dumb, pretty Roses. The whole family can’t wait to see me out of the family home and into Edward’s clinical, calculated, accountant life.

Beverly gasped and ordered, Stop there! What’s going on here? I never knew you held so much jealousy and pain in your heart towards me. Rose, Mother loves us all the same.

Bev, Mother’s told me how proud she is of you with your school grades; your piano playing; and how she just hopes for the best for me, having no good grades and no musical talent. Anyway, Bev, I’m going back out there to get to know David. Can’t a girl have her heart’s desire? I may not have talent like you but I do have feelings. Rose reapplied her pale- pink lipstick and marched straight past her sister; a smile on her face, a twinkle in her eyes and a skip in her step; vowing, I will get that man!

David hadn’t moved an inch from where she had left him; frozen to the spot and hoping that he wasn’t just dreaming. Where is that girl? he wondered. While he waited, he ate from the plate he had earlier filled. As Rose walked back across the dance floor he smiled at her and asked, Who was that? She seemed most upset.

Rose replied, Oh, that’s my sister, Beverly, and, yes, she is upset. Look, David, can we go outside for some fresh air, to have a talk and get to know one another? She sensed the need to talk to him straight away and, in her heart, it felt as if she had known him all her life and that being with him was a safe place.

David, however, was a bit of a man about town and thought, Hey, she must like me a lot, for her to be asking me to go outside to get some fresh air and talk. Wow, I have a chance with this beautiful, young lady; in fact, I’m in like Flynn.

David was twenty two years old; five years older than Rose. He was from Sydney and very street wise. He had grown up in Strathfield, New South Wales; the son of very devout, Church of Christ parents, who had planted and built many churches in that state and faithfully followed God to the best of their abilities. He was a builder by trade and had completed his training. After high school he had become engaged to his childhood sweetheart, who had grown into a beautiful, young lady and had won a Miss Australia Contest. Unfortunately, after winning the title, she had broken off their engagement, leaving him broken-hearted and on a mission to be strong without his family. He had also chosen to set aside his Christian upbringing and values.

David also harboured unforgiveness towards his father due to an incident that had occurred when he was eighteen years old. He had been having a bath, sliding up and down in the warm, soapy water. As it felt nice, David had had an erection and, at that moment, his father had walked in. He had accused him of masturbating, grabbed him by his hair and dragged him into his bedroom, naked and ashamed. Part of a generation that didn’t explain things, his dad just lashed out in anger, thinking dealing with things in that manner would stop a problem. He had grabbed a leather strap, even though his son was too old to be whipped, and had flogged him with all his strength and fury, leaving David covered in wet, swollen, bleeding welts. Communication could have avoided all of that but the shame became engrafted in his heart; a piercing, deep wound that he would carry for years and that would damage others in the future.

The following day, David decided he had had enough of all that religious stuff and had enlisted for National Service, joining the Army Reserves for the Vietnam War. He and his best mate, Ted, had set out on that new venture, which eventually led him to Melbourne, and he had felt as free as a bird.

Rose grabbed David’s hand as they left the dance floor. All David could think was, I’m going to kiss her straight away, and that’s exactly what he did. They headed towards a big oak tree, one of many for which Oakleigh was renowned. As she turned around, leaning up against the tree, David gave her a long, soft kiss. Little did they know, that kiss heralded the beginning of a lifetime together. Rose became lost in the moment and, as David lifted her up, her high-heels fell off her feet. He had looked into her eyes and whispered, Will you be my gal? Can we date? I really like you, Rose. You’re so beautiful, fine, petite and all the things I love in a girl.

Rose found his eagerness; his cheeky smile, which revealed perfect, white teeth; and his expressions so likeable and loveable, and felt, in her heart, that he was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. He even smelt nice and spicy, like her mother’s special occasion, prune cake, laden with cinnamon, allspice and nutmeg. She wanted to eat him up. He was cleanly shaven and just so handsome. "Oh David, I want to be your girlfriend but I need to share something with you. The reason I came out tonight was because I knew I’d meet you this evening; however, I need to tell you the truth. I’m engaged to a man I don’t love, and that’s why my sister dragged me away earlier. This is such a small place and everyone at the dance tonight knows I’m promised to Edward."

As Rose continued, David listened intently to her every word. His mind was ticking on overtime. Concern was written in his eyes and he was close to tears. Rose explained how she had chosen marriage as a way to help her parents, so there would be one less person to feed and worry about at home.

David enquired, Where’s your engagement ring?

I left it at home as I don’t want to be engaged to him. All I want is to be here in your arms.

Well, David responded, in that case, will you accept my hand in marriage? He felt in his heart that she was his. He was a strong, hard-working man and he could give her a home and a future. He had money, good financial plans and he wanted children. We can go and buy a ring on Monday and you can go home and let your family know it was love at first sight for both of us. What do you say, Rose? Will you wear my ring, Honey?

Of course I will, Honey! That was to become their pet name for each other but first they had to get ready for some yelling from Rose’s very protective parents and family. She continued, David, give me until tomorrow afternoon to let everyone know, then I’ll get you to come over for Sunday dinner, if I'm still alive. Do you have a pen and paper? David, always prepared, carried a few of his business cards in his wallet but they had to go back inside to get a pen. Rose jotted down her address while about a hundred eyes glared at them. Even people on the dance floor stopped to gape but she didn’t care. She knew their love would last a lifetime.

Accepting the card, David assured her he’d be there at 5:00 pm the next day. He felt a fire burning deep within him for her and nothing would stop him fighting for her love. He vowed, My love, you are my love for life, then he laughed, with that cheeky smile, grabbed her around her elegant, small waist and said, Rose, let’s dance some more so I can put my arms around you and put my face into your sweet-smelling curls. You’re so soft; so fine. You make my heart pound with life.

They danced, laughed and talked until midnight. David didn’t kiss her again as he felt he owed her respect and honour until she had let her family and Edward know the news. He knew what it felt like to be dumped and finally understood that people do change their minds. He consoled himself with the thought that at least Rose wasn’t yet married.

They left the dance and he walked her three doors down from her house, with Beverly breathing down his back. She was following so closely he could feel the hairs on his neck moving. He said, See you tomorrow, Honey. Take care! I’ll be thinking of you. If it gets really bad I’ll come and get you and we can elope.

They both laughed, while Beverly seethed, Over my dead body, while giving David a deadly look. Before he even got around the corner, Bev was at Rose. Well, we will see, Honey! You won’t be ‘Honey’ when Mother hears about this; more like ‘Roses on her grave’, little sister!

As she washed her makeup off, cleaned her teeth and put her favourite nighty on Rose refused to let that special time in her life be stolen from her by hard-hearted, gossipy people. She knew it would be futile to share what was in her heart with her older sister. Bev had to see that she felt alive with her new man, unlike with Edward, who was sweet but had no spark. All night long Rose dreamt about David.

As soon as the sun rose over the hills, she was up, with a skip in her step and a smile that was covering her face from ear to ear. She had a relaxing bath, put on her sky-blue, Sunday dress and went and let little Amber out for her wee and poo. She then went to the kitchen to prepare her puppy’s breakfast, as well as her own. She decided to cook French toast for the whole family. Knowing it was her mother’s favourite, she hoped it would conjure up memories of love and romance and therefore soften the blow of her news. She also had to phone Edward before all the gossipmongers got up. She wanted to be the first to break the news, as well as their engagement, in a kind way, not through hearing of it second-hand. She didn’t want to hurt him, because he was a good man and, hopefully, all would be good for him and his future too.

Meanwhile, Amber’s scratching and barking at the flywire door had woken Iris and Jack, so Rose quickly let her puppy in and fed her. Her mother was the first to come into the kitchen and, with a frown on her face, asked, Why are you up so early, and preparing French toast? Then she smiled. It’s only 7:00 am, so you must be very happy or have some good news. What’s the occasion, Roses, my petal? Being the youngest, she was never up in time to cook breakfast in the morning. In fact, she never cooked much at all so Iris knew something big was going on! She made herself an extra strong coffee and lit up a fag; her first for the day before asking, Ok, young lady, what happened at the dance last night?

Oh, Mother, where do I start?

Iris said, in a very straight forward manner, Start at the beginning!

As Rose began to speak, she saw her mother take two pills and noted she had been popping them more than usual. Regaining her focus, she began to unburden herself. Mother, I met the man of my dreams. His name’s David and we’re getting married. I can’t marry Edward. Then she continued with a rush. He’s so very handsome and he’s asked me to marry him and I’ve said, ‘Yes!’ We plan to buy our rings tomorrow and, Mother, he’ll be here at 5.00 pm today to meet you, Father and the rest of our family. He wants to officially ask for my hand in marriage and you can’t stop me, and if you try, she threatened, we’ll elope. I’ll phone Edward after breakfast and let him know about everything that’s been happening. Everyone at the dance saw David kiss me on the cheek several times but he didn’t know I was engaged, because I’d left my ring at home. I had a feeling something like that was going to happen. We both knew it was love at first sight.

Iris lit up another cigarette and took a big, long, hard drag, deep into her lungs, then smiled and suggested, I know you’re not in love with Edward, but just pull back the train a little until we all meet this David. She knew her daughter well but still felt it was all a little rushed; however she also knew about love at first sight and that, when love came, you did feel that urgency. Rose then related how she had felt her temperature rise, just like when Iris had met Jerome.

At that moment, Iris was regretting having shared her love story with her younger daughter, who was such a romantic, that she had wanted to hear about that encounter over and over again. She continued, Anyway, my dear girl, you must telephone Edward straight after breakfast, so go call your sister and brother, while I break the news to your father. Oh, and Rose, after breakfast and your phone call, I need you to wash my menstrual rags.

That was one of her chores, which she willingly performed, as she loved her mother and would do anything to make her happy. She would go out to the laundry’s big stone and pebble tubs and wash the blood clots out of the rags before pegging them out on the line for all to see; their purpose obvious as you could never get the stains out. With three women in the house that was a frequent and embarrassing display since, with the railway line just beyond the fence, it was impossible to maintain one’s privacy.

Rose went back into the room she shared with her sister and, opening the blind, sang out loud, Rise and shine, hang your britches on the line.

Bev answered, Why so early, Rose? It’s Sunday. We don’t go to church so what’s your problem, waking me on my day off? Oh, yeah! I forgot about Romeo from last night. Have you told Mother?

Yes, Rose answered hurriedly. She seems ok with it. Anyway, Bev, I’m making French toast and Mum wants you to come out and share it with us.

She then called Daniel, but there was no reply from beyond the ceiling. Shrugging her shoulders she went back into the