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Authors: Kirsty Murray
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less to spare.
Thea and Ma sat at the kitchen table, household accounts spread out before them, tallying up columns of figures. Thea took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. ‘Mr Ashton said he’d employ me to take the outdoor painting classes but he doesn’t pay very well. I wish the Wilderness School would invite me back to teach painting. A few extra shillings would make such a difference with the wedding expenses.’
Nette’s wedding was going to be a simple affair, but everyone in the family was anxious about what to give Nette and Ray for a wedding gift. There were so many extra expenses, not least the food for the guests at the reception. Tiney jabbed the cod’s head and prayed that Mama wouldn’t put fishheads on the menu.
If it wasn’t for Mama’s trust fund the Flynn family would never make ends meet. Wolfgang Schomberg, Tiney’s grandfather, had been a wealthy man. Mama would never say exactly how much the trust sent each month but Tiney remembered how much better life had been when Opa was still alive. Opa would have understood her plan to go to Europe. He would have helped. She remembered going out to her grandfather’s property in the Barossa, and riding beside him in a trap along a dusty country road while he went to visit his patients. On the ride back to his house, he would sing in German and make Tiney sing along. He always spoke German to her, though he was born in Australia and could speak perfect English. And then, back at her grandparents’ sprawling Barossa home, the whole family would gather around the table to eat roast pork and steamed potatoes and dumplings and applesauce. But that was before the war, when Opa and Louis and Will had been alive.
Tiney put the stuffed cod’s head into the Kooka oven and set potatoes to boil on the stovetop. She scrubbed the fishy smell from her hands with cut lemons and then sat down beside Thea.
‘I’m sorry to ask, but I need a new dress,’ said Tiney. ‘Not just for the wedding. There’s the Cheer-Up Victory Ball in July, and once the flu epidemic is over and quarantine restrictions are lifted, there’ll be so many dances and I have nothing to wear.’
‘But you have a new one,’ said Mama. ‘I cut down Minna’s blue cotton dress for you last month.’
Tiney put her head in her hands and sighed. She didn’t want to point out that Minna’s old dress was so worn-out it couldn’t possibly be thought of as ‘new’. All through their childhood, Nette’s dresses were cut down for Thea, Thea’s for Minna, Minna’s for Tiney. Her clothes weren’t simply second-hand, they were fourth-hand. Some days Tiney rubbed the fabric of her skirt between her fingers and wondered why the material hadn’t grown translucent with wear.
‘We will see,’ said Mama, as if acknowledging Tiney’s despair.
‘Ask Minna for ideas,’ whispered Thea.
Tiney found Minna in their bedroom, standing in front of the cheval mirror. Minna was trying on her new dress.
‘Do you like it?’ she asked. ‘Is it dainty enough for a “sister of the bride”?’
Mr Timson, a cloth merchant whose daughter was one of Minna’s students, had given her a length of deep blue crepe de Chine after his daughter passed her preliminary clarinet exam. Minna had set to work with needle and thread, cutting and stitching. She had folded the fabric over and over in deep pleats and pressed it carefully, then sewn it into a three-tiered tunic that fitted her like a sheath. Beneath the dress she wore a close-fitting white satin shift with full-length mitten sleeves and, for contrast against the dark blue fabric, a long strand of artificial pearls.
The pleats rippled as Minna pirouetted on her toes.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Tiney, feeling admiration mixed with envy.
Minna stopped spinning and rested her hands on Tiney’s shoulders. ‘There’s enough fabric left over for me to make you a blouse.’
‘A blouse would be nice, but I need a dress. A dress for the
Thea and Ma sat at the kitchen table, household accounts spread out before them, tallying up columns of figures. Thea took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. ‘Mr Ashton said he’d employ me to take the outdoor painting classes but he doesn’t pay very well. I wish the Wilderness School would invite me back to teach painting. A few extra shillings would make such a difference with the wedding expenses.’
Nette’s wedding was going to be a simple affair, but everyone in the family was anxious about what to give Nette and Ray for a wedding gift. There were so many extra expenses, not least the food for the guests at the reception. Tiney jabbed the cod’s head and prayed that Mama wouldn’t put fishheads on the menu.
If it wasn’t for Mama’s trust fund the Flynn family would never make ends meet. Wolfgang Schomberg, Tiney’s grandfather, had been a wealthy man. Mama would never say exactly how much the trust sent each month but Tiney remembered how much better life had been when Opa was still alive. Opa would have understood her plan to go to Europe. He would have helped. She remembered going out to her grandfather’s property in the Barossa, and riding beside him in a trap along a dusty country road while he went to visit his patients. On the ride back to his house, he would sing in German and make Tiney sing along. He always spoke German to her, though he was born in Australia and could speak perfect English. And then, back at her grandparents’ sprawling Barossa home, the whole family would gather around the table to eat roast pork and steamed potatoes and dumplings and applesauce. But that was before the war, when Opa and Louis and Will had been alive.
Tiney put the stuffed cod’s head into the Kooka oven and set potatoes to boil on the stovetop. She scrubbed the fishy smell from her hands with cut lemons and then sat down beside Thea.
‘I’m sorry to ask, but I need a new dress,’ said Tiney. ‘Not just for the wedding. There’s the Cheer-Up Victory Ball in July, and once the flu epidemic is over and quarantine restrictions are lifted, there’ll be so many dances and I have nothing to wear.’
‘But you have a new one,’ said Mama. ‘I cut down Minna’s blue cotton dress for you last month.’
Tiney put her head in her hands and sighed. She didn’t want to point out that Minna’s old dress was so worn-out it couldn’t possibly be thought of as ‘new’. All through their childhood, Nette’s dresses were cut down for Thea, Thea’s for Minna, Minna’s for Tiney. Her clothes weren’t simply second-hand, they were fourth-hand. Some days Tiney rubbed the fabric of her skirt between her fingers and wondered why the material hadn’t grown translucent with wear.
‘We will see,’ said Mama, as if acknowledging Tiney’s despair.
‘Ask Minna for ideas,’ whispered Thea.
Tiney found Minna in their bedroom, standing in front of the cheval mirror. Minna was trying on her new dress.
‘Do you like it?’ she asked. ‘Is it dainty enough for a “sister of the bride”?’
Mr Timson, a cloth merchant whose daughter was one of Minna’s students, had given her a length of deep blue crepe de Chine after his daughter passed her preliminary clarinet exam. Minna had set to work with needle and thread, cutting and stitching. She had folded the fabric over and over in deep pleats and pressed it carefully, then sewn it into a three-tiered tunic that fitted her like a sheath. Beneath the dress she wore a close-fitting white satin shift with full-length mitten sleeves and, for contrast against the dark blue fabric, a long strand of artificial pearls.
The pleats rippled as Minna pirouetted on her toes.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Tiney, feeling admiration mixed with envy.
Minna stopped spinning and rested her hands on Tiney’s shoulders. ‘There’s enough fabric left over for me to make you a blouse.’
‘A blouse would be nice, but I need a dress. A dress for the
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