Synopsis

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Cpt 9

Bonus

Extra

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Claire's first impression of the interior of Letty Marlow's house was that of shabbiness. A top window had a broken corner that was covered by a strip of cardboard and water stains covered a section of the wallpaper. When she looked beyond the faded walls, worn fittings and old furniture, though, she saw a tidy kitchen. Yellow curtains with pictures of white cats on them hung above the sink and a couple of new mats covered the cracked lino. The old Formica table was wiped clean.

"I try to keep it nice for the children," Letty said apologetically. She turned to the stove and placed an old fashioned kettle on the back element, gave a tiny sigh and shifted it to a front one.

"What's wrong?" Claire asked.

"Oh just little things," Letty said. "The back element doesn't go."

"So get your landlord to fix it."

Letty grimaced. "I don't like to ask," she said.

"But why?"

"One of my friends had a house like this. It was in worse condition, actually. She made a list of everything that needed fixing and went to the owner with the list. He sent a contractor in to fix everything and even added new carpet to the main bedroom."

"So?"

"The next month he doubled her rent. She couldn't afford it and had to move. Luckily her new man worked for the railways so they got a railway house in Taihape."

"And you're afraid that if you complain, the same thing will happen to you?"

Letty nodded. "I have my name down for a state house but there's a fifteen month waiting list even for people on high priority. If I can stay here until then I should do okay. The farmer does give me free firewood so we keep ourselves warm."

"And your partner?"

Letty stared at Claire. "There isn't one. I came to Taihape like you, I guess and just sort of stayed."

"Like me?"

Letty grimaced. "A pregnant girl from the city."

Claire bit on her bottom lip. "You know about me?"

"Not really but why else would you be out here? The only other single women around are those in the shearing gangs. They're a rough lot that I'd advise you to stay away from."

"You're right," Claire whispered. She glanced around and wondered about the four children. Oh hell, was this how she would end up?  "I still think your landlord should do basic repairs like having the element placed and the window fixed. Who is he, anyway?"

Letty appeared surprised. "Don't you know?" she asked.

"No. Why should I?"

"The house and the farm outside is owned by Mr Hodge, Hazel Sloane's father."

"Bob Hodge?"

"I guess. I've never heard him called Bob before. Isn't he staying up with you to help look after the farm?"

"I see." Claire pouted. "What say I ask him to get the repairs done for you?"

Letty stared at her for a moment and poured water from the boiling kettle into a teapot. "Sugar and milk?" she asked.

Claire took the cup offered to her and returned the woman's gaze. "Well, do you want me to ask him?"

"Only if he doesn't put the rent up, otherwise let's just forget about it."

"Oh he won't," Claire said with determination in her voice. She sipped the hot drink. The topic changed to other news and a quarter of an hour later she made an excuse about having to inspect the boundary fence and left.  Letty was pleasant enough in a coarse sort of way and she was pleased to be away from the depressing environment. She drove back, found the fence by the stream hadn't been damaged, managed to turn the Land Rover without going all the way back to the school and headed home.

*

"You never told me about your tenant in the other house," she said to Bob that evening.

Bob glanced up from the newspaper he was reading and shrugged. "So that's what's biting you?" he said.

Claire glowered. "What do you mean?"

Bob shrugged and placed the newspaper down. "Your expression ever since you came back. What say you spit it out?"

Claire did and added. "She won't come to you because she's afraid you'll up the rent. Apparently one of the other farmers did exactly that."

"That was Jack Hartley. He's so tight, I reckon he'd charge you to pick mushrooms off one of his paddocks."

"So you'll fix your house up without raising Letty Marlow's rent?"

Bob shrugged. "She only pays five quid a month. That doesn't even cover the rates for the land."

"So you'll let the house become a slum?" Claire felt angry.

"No but I'm not running a charity either."

"Meaning?'

"What do you know about this woman, Claire?" Bob replied in a slow voice.

"She's a single mother trying to bring up four children on her own."

"And where did the children come from?"

"I don't know."

"Letty Marlow is called the local comfort woman. That's a term the Japs used in the war. Do you understand what I mean?"

"I've no idea!" 

"She's a prostitute who offers her services for a couple of quid a go, I believe. Her children were all fathered by different men."

Claire sat back in her armchair and gasped. This had never entered her mind. "Oh hell, I'm so naïve, aren't I Bob?'

"Innocent is the word I'd use, Claire and that is nothing to be ashamed of."

"But who?"

"Are her clients? Workers, farmers, shearing contractors. There's the full range of men who will pay to sleep with a comparatively attractive woman. The rumour is that the last baby she had was fathered by the last teacher at the school. He sort of left in a hurry when she had the child."

Claire stared at the floor in grim silence before she looked up to see Bob's intense gaze.

"What's wrong with the world, Bob?" she finally whispered. "I mean, what will happen to me. Will I end up like her?"

"No."

"But who knows me? Won't everyone around think I'm just a slut?"

"Some might," Bob admitted. "If they do, it is their problem, not yours. You cannot change the world nor can you change people's attitudes. Just be yourself and you'll survive."

"Survive? Is that all there is to life?"

"Of course not. Perhaps I used the wrong word. I believe you are a strong, intelligent girl, Claire. Just look at that marvellous school work you do."

"But will it help me in the end?"

Bob nodded. "I think so." He reached for the paper again. "I'll get a handyman to visit the house and fix everything there and, no, I won't put her rent up."

"Including the water stained wallpaper?" Claire whispered.

Bob grinned. "And do you want the back fence around the house repaired, too?"

"Why not?"

"And you know what will happen?"

"What?"

"We'll spend hundreds of quid to get everything done and Letty Marlow will decide to leave."

"But even if she does, you'll still have the improved house, won't you?"

"But I don't really need it. Two decades back I bought the lower farm. If I ever decided to sell the farm again it could be useful, I guess."

"You mean sell Knotted Pine Farm?"

"No, the other farm that the house is on. I really bought the lower farm for one of my sons and the house came with it. "

Claire frowned. "I thought you only had one son?"

"I have now," Bob said. "My elder son, Kevin was killed in World War ll."

"I'm sorry," Claire said. "But why did you have farms for your two sons and none for Hazel?"

"Tradition," Bob said. "Girls in the family are expected to marry a local farmer and move onto his property. I inherited Knotted Pine Farm from my father and my sister married a farmer up in Waikato. She's a widow up there and her sons run the farm."

"A stupid tradition," Claire retorted. "It's the nineteen sixties now, not the eighteen sixties when woman were expected to just produce babies and look after the house."

"Farmers are a conservative lot but we're the ones that keep our country going."

"Now perhaps," Claire whispered. "It won't always be like that, you know."

"And people like you will change it?"

"Possibly but are you going to replace that wallpaper, too?"

Bob laughed. "Why not?  But I'll do it for you, not Letty Marlow."

Claire smiled. "Do it for the equality of women, Bob. I don't agree with Letty's way of life but she's a victim too, you know."

She stood up and placed another log on the fire while Bob immersed himself in the newspaper again. There was a thoughtful expression on the crinkled face and she knew that a nerve had been struck, if that was the cliché to use.

*

In the dawn light, Claire was walking back from the bathroom when the telephone rang their code.

"Good morning. Knotted Pine Farm," she said on the old brass receiver.

"Claire, is that you?" a woman's voice asked on the crackly line.

"Yes."

"It's Hazel phoning from the hospital. How are you?"

Claire grinned up at Bob who had limped up the hallway. He stopped when he saw her and leaned on his walking stick.

"I'm just fine. More important though, is how are you?"

"Oh Claire, you're still there?"

"I am. Bob and I are managing quite well."

"Bob?"

Claire caught Bob's eyes and grinned "Robert, your Dad. He said to call him Bob."

The line went quiet and she thought they might have been cut off before Hazel spoke again. "And Dad hasn't driven you to distraction with all his grumbling?"

"Of course not."

"Oh Claire, that's wonderful. Anyway, the doctor said I would be discharged today. Alan is keen to get home. We're taking the bus to Taihape and will arrive there about two this afternoon. Can Dad come in and pick us up? "

"He's right here. Do you want to talk to him?"

"Okay but stay close. Dad's has trouble hearing over the phone."

Claire smiled and held the receiver out to Bob. "Hazel's coming out of hospital," she said.

Bob nodded and placed the receiver to his ear. "Dad here," he almost shouted. He listened for a moment, said they'd meet the bus and promptly hung up.  

"We only had three minutes," he said as if to explain himself and turned to head back to the kitchen.

Claire reached out and grabbed his jersey. "Why are you so grumpy?" she whispered. "Isn't it great that they're coming home?"

"I guess..."

"Bob, what's wrong?"

"An old man feeling sorry for himself, that's what," he muttered and again went to step out along the hallway.

Claire stepped sideways and stopped him. "They'll still need you, Bob. Alan has a broken leg and I doubt if Hazel will be allowed to go out in the cold. I can't drive the tractor and feed out all at once. Why do you think it'll change?"

"Your charm and enthusiasm was contagious and for a few days I felt young again. We made a great team but it was a dream, Claire. Why would young lass like yourself need the company of someone like me? You would be much better off in the company of that young chap along at the school."

Claire felt herself flush but also anger rose inside her. "You are feeling sorry for yourself aren't you? For your information, I am not interested in Roy Petersen or any other male and you are one of the very few friends I have had since I found myself pregnant. It is you who has decided you won't be needed here, not Hazel and certainly not me."

The anger turned to frustration, tears filled her eyes and she ran out of the hallway, through the kitchen and outside. By the time she was half way across the yard the streaming tears had turned to shuddering sobs. She slowed to a walk and glanced down. Jiggy was trotting along beside her. The little dog glanced up with huge sympathetic eyes. She stooped and patted the little dog.

"Oh Jiggy," she sobbed. "What's wrong with me?"

"Absolutely nothing. Your empathy towards others puts me to shame. Our talk last night really made me look at myself." How Bob managed to keep up, she didn't know but there he was right beside her. Claire turned and stood there shaking as the elderly man folded his arms around her.

"I'll stay and we'll keep feeding out until Hazel and Alan can manage themselves. We'll watch the sun over the valley and I'll ramble on about the old days," he said. "I've also got the lower house to get fixed up, haven't I?"

Claire stared up at him and her bottom lip quivered. "I'm not like Letty, Bob," she whispered. "I was raped. Over and over." She couldn't control the new tears so just cried as Bob held on and patted her hair.

"Aye, Lassie. I thought that might be the case," he finally said. "Shall we go and have breakfast? I reckon the porridge would have burnt dry by now."

He said no more but didn't need to. Claire knew they understood each other. They turned and Claire noticed one more thing. Bob's walking stick was lying on the veranda and he walked beside her with hardly a limp. The little dog trotted along between them with her tail wagging. Ahead, the kitchen door was open with the light on inside. It looked warm and inviting.

*

Claire found the feeding out therapeutic for them both. She could now operate the tractor like an old hand and had the trailer loaded with hay within a few minutes. Once they reached the cattle she swapped places with Bob and managed the bales with ease. The cattle seemed to sense her confidence and waited a few feet back while she tossed the hay out both sides of the trailer before they moved in to devour the food. The sheep were less enthusiastic and Bob said they probably managed to nibble grass for some of the day. They returned home and after the other chores, sat down for a well-earned morning tea.

"Want to drive my car into town when we go to pick up Alan and Hazel?" Bob asked.

Claire gulped. Bob's car she'd learned was an American Nash Rambler, a gigantic vehicle all chrome and a two-tone blue in colour. "It's huge," she said. "I've never driven an automatic."

"You'd never driven the tractor or Land Rover before coming here either."

"Okay then but what are you going to do?"

"Sit in the passenger seat. If we go soon, there are a few things I need to do in town before the bus arrives. I can show you my little house in town if you're interested."

"I'd like that," Claire said. "We need groceries and I want to transfer the bank account my Mum gave me to Taihape."

"While you're at the post office, you could send her a telegram to say how you're getting on."

Claire frowned. "Perhaps next time. I'm not quite ready for that yet."

Bob shrugged. "As you wish," he whispered. "Was she really so mean, though?"

"I thought so but now I don't know... Can we leave it for now?"

Bob nodded. "Jiggy would like a ride to town. She's at home at much at my little place as out here on the farm."

"And how about some fish and chips?"

"Sounds great. We could get some and go back to my place. A couple of bottles of beer from the pub and a soft drink for you..."

"Two bottles of beer, Bob. One for you and one for me... okay?"

"Equality of women, is it?"

"No, I don't think you should drink too much, that's all."

Bob laughed. "My God, you sound like Hazel."

"She's a sensible woman."

"A nagging one."

Claire grinned when she noticed the twinkle in Bob's eyes.

*

Chimney smoke hung over the township of Taihape and, if anything, it felt colder than out at the farm. Claire tucked a scarf end inside her coat and was glad she wore a pair of Hazel's knitted gloves that Bob had found for her. They had parked the Rambler in the main street near the post office and he had gone for an appointment to see his lawyer. There were a couple of dress shops and she did need more winter clothes. After a somewhat frustrating time at the post office, the woman behind the counter finally agreed to allow her to withdraw money from the new account. Luckily, Claire had her driver's licence, that showed her Wellington address and signature. With ten pounds in her purse she went shopping. There was a surprisingly large selection of jerseys and winter skirts as well as modern slacks in the local shops. The sales assistant chatted away and said they catered for tourists who stopped by on the way from Wellington to the Mount Ruapehu ski fields. Claire ended up buying two jerseys and a winter skirt that looked great.

She glanced at her watch. Bob would be another forty minutes or so, so she decided to have a stroll around. Most of the town was hilly but the main street was on flat land, one block back and parallel to the railway line. Claire walked by the Majestic Picture Theatre and back to the station. It looked quite different in the daylight and was deserted with the refreshment rooms closed. She strolled on around the block, across the road and in the opposite direction. The sight of the school with pupils running around at morning playtime made her a little nostalgic for those more innocent days.

Afterwards, she strolled back to the Rambler and sat down to read a magazine she'd bought. Bob was late but arrived with a massive wrapping of fish and chips under his arm and two bottles of beer in a paper bag clutched along with his walking stick.

"Lunch," he said with a chuckle as he heaved himself in the passenger seat. "Sorry, I'm late. Damn lawyer always takes longer than you expect."

The aroma of the hot food made Claire's tummy rumble. She smiled at him. "I got some money from the post office and went shopping."

Bob glanced at the bags on the back seat and grinned. "So I see. Shall we head along to my house?"

His place was not far from where Claire had walked, across from a rugby field and a block along from the school. She drove the car in beside an old cottage built in the last century that was jammed in close to a whole line of similar houses.  It was freezing inside but Bob lit a fire in the coal range and the tiny kitchen began to warm up. He found plates and a bottle of sauce and opened the fish and chips out on a table.

"Sorry about the mess," he said. "When I heard about the accident I left in a hurry."

The room looked lived in with newspapers and magazines around but was really quite tidy. The whole cottage reflected Bob but made Claire shudder. Like other homes of elderly people she had visited, it felt lonely. Several photographs of Hazel and Alan and other people sat on the mantelpiece as well as photos of animals.

"My prize bull," Bob said when Claire picked one photo up. "We won the Champion of Champions ribbon at the Taihape AMP show back in 1949." He glanced at the next photo of a young woman in 1940s vintage clothes holding a baby and with two small children by her side. "Elizabeth, my wife," he whispered. "Hazel is the little girl dressed in white. Simon is the baby she's holding."

"Lovely family."

"Yes but it was a long time ago, Claire. People die and others change." He smiled sadly. "Come on, let's eat up before the fish and chips get cold."

He opened a bottle, poured beer in two glasses and handed Claire one. "To the future," he said and held his glass up.

"Yes, the future," Claire whispered.

*

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