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Authors: Peter Twohig
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showed her shape off. She didnât sit like a lady, as Mum would have said, but crossed her legs, which always made me look at her shoes, the prettiest ladies shoes I had ever seen. In spite of the way she sat, and the fact that she always uncovered most of her chest, no matter what time of the year it was, I considered that she was definitely a lady, especially compared to the other women I saw around: the clippies, the shoppies and the women down at Victoria Market.
Not only did Aunty Queenie live in South Melbourne, my favourite suburb and the home of the Mighty Swans, but she lived in the same street as Channel Seven, my favourite TV station, so it was always exciting paying her a visit.
Aunty Queenie lived in a large house that was more like some kind of palace, and had the most beautiful interior I hadever seen. Her living room was filled with lounges covered with red cushions with gold tassels at the corners, and there were drapes all over the place. The walls were covered with three kinds of paintings: pictures of flowers, pictures of children standing beside things, and pictures of ladies with leaves in their hair, wearing very long nighties. The floor was covered in thick rugs that almost reached the walls, and everywhere there were plants in brass pots â hundreds of them.
In the hall there were huge photos in polished wooden frames of relatives who had probably died, the sort of photos youâd see in every house. I liked to study them whenever I was there. Some of the wedding pictures had men in them wearing army uniforms. I once asked her if she was in any of the pictures, and she laughed.
âI am in a few of them, but youâll never find me. I was just a girl.â
It sounded like a puzzle, but it was one I couldnât solve. I was collecting more puzzles, I swear, than Bernardâs Magic Shop.
âDid you know my mum during the war?â I asked Aunty Queenie, looking at the army uniforms again.
She suddenly became still, and looked at me hard, as if she could see trouble coming: in other words, just like one of my real aunties.
âMmm, yes I did ââ
I felt her stop herself, as if sheâd already said too much.
âWas she really an army lieutenant?â
âShe was, one of the very first, you know. We were all very proud of her. I know your granddad was. Why do you ask?â
âI can never get Mum to talk about it. Did she fight the Germans or the Japs?â
I couldnât see it myself, but you never know. I mean, Mum in a bad mood would have given them a run for their money. Aunty Queenie didnât laugh at the question; she didnât even smile, but I could tell she was remembering, because Granddad had told me how to spot that in someoneâs look.
âNo, love, she didnât fight, she did something else. Actually, Iâm not sure what it was meself.â
Her face was suddenly pained, as if she was going to cry, so I changed the subject.
âNever mind. I âspect sheâll tell me one of these days. So which one of these people in the pictures are you?â I asked, pointing at a pretty lady.
She just laughed and wagged a finger at me.
Granddad says I have a gift.
Aunty Queenieâs whole house was gorgeous, not just the living room, and I was free to explore as if it was all mine, while Granddad and Aunty Queenie visited upstairs. There was only one thing about going to Aunty Queenieâs that bothered me, and that was the way she would grab me and squash me to her chest every time she saw me â I never knew what to do with my hands. Also, you had to be careful that you didnât get your eye poked out by a sharp brooch, usually an orange and red one. But I had to admit, Aunty Queenie always smelt like a million bucks.
On this day, I decided to go for a wander around upstairs, forgetting that Aunty Queenie had once told Tom and me not to go up there. I remembered at the top of the stairs, and was just
Not only did Aunty Queenie live in South Melbourne, my favourite suburb and the home of the Mighty Swans, but she lived in the same street as Channel Seven, my favourite TV station, so it was always exciting paying her a visit.
Aunty Queenie lived in a large house that was more like some kind of palace, and had the most beautiful interior I hadever seen. Her living room was filled with lounges covered with red cushions with gold tassels at the corners, and there were drapes all over the place. The walls were covered with three kinds of paintings: pictures of flowers, pictures of children standing beside things, and pictures of ladies with leaves in their hair, wearing very long nighties. The floor was covered in thick rugs that almost reached the walls, and everywhere there were plants in brass pots â hundreds of them.
In the hall there were huge photos in polished wooden frames of relatives who had probably died, the sort of photos youâd see in every house. I liked to study them whenever I was there. Some of the wedding pictures had men in them wearing army uniforms. I once asked her if she was in any of the pictures, and she laughed.
âI am in a few of them, but youâll never find me. I was just a girl.â
It sounded like a puzzle, but it was one I couldnât solve. I was collecting more puzzles, I swear, than Bernardâs Magic Shop.
âDid you know my mum during the war?â I asked Aunty Queenie, looking at the army uniforms again.
She suddenly became still, and looked at me hard, as if she could see trouble coming: in other words, just like one of my real aunties.
âMmm, yes I did ââ
I felt her stop herself, as if sheâd already said too much.
âWas she really an army lieutenant?â
âShe was, one of the very first, you know. We were all very proud of her. I know your granddad was. Why do you ask?â
âI can never get Mum to talk about it. Did she fight the Germans or the Japs?â
I couldnât see it myself, but you never know. I mean, Mum in a bad mood would have given them a run for their money. Aunty Queenie didnât laugh at the question; she didnât even smile, but I could tell she was remembering, because Granddad had told me how to spot that in someoneâs look.
âNo, love, she didnât fight, she did something else. Actually, Iâm not sure what it was meself.â
Her face was suddenly pained, as if she was going to cry, so I changed the subject.
âNever mind. I âspect sheâll tell me one of these days. So which one of these people in the pictures are you?â I asked, pointing at a pretty lady.
She just laughed and wagged a finger at me.
Granddad says I have a gift.
Aunty Queenieâs whole house was gorgeous, not just the living room, and I was free to explore as if it was all mine, while Granddad and Aunty Queenie visited upstairs. There was only one thing about going to Aunty Queenieâs that bothered me, and that was the way she would grab me and squash me to her chest every time she saw me â I never knew what to do with my hands. Also, you had to be careful that you didnât get your eye poked out by a sharp brooch, usually an orange and red one. But I had to admit, Aunty Queenie always smelt like a million bucks.
On this day, I decided to go for a wander around upstairs, forgetting that Aunty Queenie had once told Tom and me not to go up there. I remembered at the top of the stairs, and was just
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