Romantic Association - Loves Me, Loves Me Not

The author of forty-five published novels, Anna Jacobs freely confesses to an addiction to story-telling. Fortunately, she is not very domesticated, so has plenty of time to produce two to three novels a year, writing sagas for one publisher, modern women’s fiction for another. She is fascinated by women’s history and by the challenges women face in today’s changing world. Her books have been nominated several times for Australian Romantic Book of the Year, which she won in 2006, and she is among the top few most borrowed authors of adult fiction in English libraries. She’s still in love with her own personal hero, and she and he live half the year in Australia, half in England. Discover more about Anna’s writing at www.annajacobs.com

Western Australia, January 1921

When the ship docked at Fremantle, Gracie Bell was on deck with the other passengers. She stared round with a sinking heart. The West Australian port looked so scruffy, like a large village with an untidy collection of tin roofs. The summer heat made sweat trickle down her face. It was like standing in front of a hot oven.

Never mind that, she told herself. In Australia she’d find a more interesting job and make a better life for herself. She wasn’t working as a maid ever again, hated being shut up in a house all day. During the war she’d worked as a conductress on a motor omnibus, but once the war ended she’d lost her lovely job to a soldier returning to England.

She hadn’t emigrated to look for a fellow, though. All her married friends worked like slaves and were always short of money, not to mention having one baby after the other. She didn’t fancy that. Maybe one or two children would be OK, not eight, like her mother.

When she came out of Customs she found her sister, Jane, waiting for her on the dock, looking pregnant, hot and weary, with her husband Tommy beside her. Her brother-in-law had grown fat in Australia, reminding Gracie of an overstuffed cushion. He didn’t look at all tired.

He eyed her up and down, nodded in approval and loaded the luggage on the motor car.

‘Is this your car?’ she asked, trying to make conversation.

‘No. I’ve borrowed it from my friend Bert. He and I work together.’

‘Since we live in Perth, not Fremantle,’ Jane said brightly, ‘this is easier than taking a train into the city. It was very kind of Bert, don’t you think?’

‘Yes.’ She saw that more was required and added, ‘Very kind indeed.’

‘Tommy’s doing ever so well at work. We’re buying our own house now.’

Tommy smirked and, as soon as they set off, dominated the conversation. Talk about bossy! Gracie tried to maintain a polite expression but what she really wanted was to talk to her sister.

Jane, who seemed to have lost all her old spirit, gave her a warning look and shook her head slightly when Gracie mentioned her hopes for the future.

What was going on?

The next day being Sunday, they went to church, then Tommy worked in the garden. Gracie couldn’t believe how many tomatoes there were, just growing in the sun, not needing a greenhouse. She’d never eaten them newly picked before, or peaches, either. They were much nicer than tinned ones.

Bert, Tommy’s best friend, always came to tea on Sundays, and Jane spent her sister’s first day in Australia baking a cake and some scones, red-faced, rubbing her back from time to time. Gracie had hoped to go out sightseeing and said as much.

Jane looked over her shoulder and whispered, ‘We’ll go out during the week. There are some lovely shops in the city. But Tommy likes things to be just so on Sundays, so if you don’t mind helping…?’

They were to eat out on the veranda, so Gracie swept outside and dusted all the furniture there. She tidied up indoors as well, which consisted mainly of picking up after Tommy. Didn’t that man ever carry his own empty teacups back into the kitchen, or put away his daily newspaper?

She was very disappointed in his friend Bert, who was nearly as fat as Tommy and just as fond of his own voice.

During the tea party, conversation was mainly between the two men. As he talked, Bert stared at Gracie in the same assessing way Tommy had, and it made her feel uncomfortable. She didn’t know where to turn her eyes.

The hosts insisted on clearing the table and making another pot of tea, which left Bert and Gracie alone.

‘You’re even prettier than your photo.’ He leaned across and, taking her by surprise, planted a big, moist kiss on her lips.

She tried to pull away, but he dragged her to her feet, pressing his body against hers. She wasn’t having that. Stamping on his foot, she scraped her shoe down his shin, causing him to yelp, then she retreated to the other side of the table.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘Protecting myself. And I’ll do worse than that if you ever grab me again. How dare you take liberties with me? What sort of person do you think I am?’

‘Aw, come on, Gracie. Don’t be stand-offish. Jane and Tommy have told me so much about you, I’ve been dying to meet you. You can’t blame a fellow for getting carried away.’

Dying to meet her? Alarm bells rang in her head. Just wait till she got her sister alone. She’d find out what was going on.

‘Isn’t Bert a nice fellow?’ Jane said brightly next morning after Tommy had left for work.

‘No.’

Jane looked so horrified, Gracie knew her suspicions were correct. ‘Did you invite me to Australia to pair me off with him? Jane? Answer me.’

‘My goodness, it’s going to be hot again today. I’d better go and water those tomatoes.’

Gracie barred the doorway. ‘You did, didn’t you?’

‘I thought it’d be nice if you lived nearby. And Mum’s been worried about you not marrying, with your young man being killed during the war. There are a lot of spare women now and Bert’s a really good catch. He’ll be foreman after Mr Minchin leaves, you know.’

‘I don’t care how much money he earns. He can only talk about himself and I never did like men with yellow hair and bright pink skin.’

‘Don’t say that to Tommy, please. Why don’t you just…you know…give Bert a chance?’

Gracie pretended to read the newspaper. She found an advert for an employment bureau and tore it out secretly.

The following day, ignoring her sister’s protests and pleas to wait another week or two, she put on her smartest clothes and her best hat. It had an upturned brim decorated by a fabric flower and was worn pulled down to the eyebrows. It showed off her eyes and she had loved it so much that she’d paid thirty shillings for it, a huge extravagance.

She found the employment bureau without difficulty and marched inside, refusing to give in to the butterflies in her stomach. They questioned her about her experience, then offered her a job.

She stared at the woman in dismay. ‘But I told you: I don’t want to work as a maid. I want something more interesting.’

‘There aren’t many other jobs for young women without clerical skills, so it’s either work as a maid or in a shop.’

Gracie had a quick think. If she worked in a shop, she’d have to pay for lodgings and she’d never save any money. Of course, she could stay at her sister’s, but that’d mean putting up with Tommy’s bossiness, not to mention facing Bert’s leers and fumbling hands.

With a sigh, she agreed to consider a live-in maid’s job. But, she vowed to herself, it’d only be for six months. She’d save and look around for something more interesting once she got used to Australia.

‘I have a vacancy on a country homestead in the southwest, working for Mrs Gilsworth. She’s an excellent employer, pays top wages and even provides the uniform.’