Rosalie Ham - The Dressmaker

The smile on Alvin’s face remained fixed. ‘My my.’ He looked the ladies up and down, from the waving feathers sprouting from their startling headdress to their pinched toes encased in stylish new shoes. ‘Had a bit of a spree in Melbourne, eh?’

Gertrude smiled conspiratorially at Elsbeth who squeezed her arm in camaraderie.

‘I take it William will be in with his harvest cheque soon – as there is the matter of your outstanding account Mrs Beaumonts , and I expect you’ve brought along all the receipts from your spree so shall we pop into the office and go through them together before I add them to your existing outstanding account?’

The smiles fell from the Beaumont women’s faces. ‘Daddy I thought –’ said Gertrude.

‘I said you could buy YOURSELF a small wedding trousseau,’ said Alvin, then looked at Elsbeth and sniffed.

Elsbeth shoved the leaflets at Muriel and looked blackly at her new daughter-in-law.

• • •

Septimus Crescant sat at the corner of the bar with Hamish O’Brien, talking. Purl stood behind the bar painting her fingernails while Fred, Bobby Pickett and Scotty Pullit sat at the card table, sipping, smoking and shuffling. Finally Fred looked at Teddy’s empty chair and said, ‘May as well start.’ Reginald dealt the cards and every man threw ten two-shilling coins onto the table.

The telephone rang. Purl walked to the far wall and gingerly lifted the receiver, careful not to smudge her nails. Bobby waved his cards at Purl and mouthed, ‘Tell her I’ve just left.’

‘Hello, Station Hotel …’

The poker players stared.

‘Look love I appreciate it very much but I’ll be busy on Sunday all right, ’bye.’ Purl hooked the phone back into its cradle.

‘That was poor suffering Mona-by-name-Mona-by-nature phoning on behalf of the Dungatar Social Club Invited me to their inaugural meeting out at Fart Hill, to discuss their first ever fund-raising croquet day and tea party – and there’s to be a “presentation night”.’

‘Now there’s something to look forward to,’ said Fred.

Purl closed her eyes and shook her head slowly from side to side, ‘I can hardly wait.’

The men resumed their cards and Hamish and Septimus resumed their discussion. ‘O’course,’ said Hamish, ‘it all started to go wrong when man domesticated crops so there was a need to protect the crop and to gather in groups, build walls to stave off hungry neoliths.’

‘No,’ said Septimus, ‘the wheel sank humanity the deepest.’

‘Och, you’ve got to have the wheel for transport.’

‘Then the industrial revolution followed, mechanisation that did the rest of damage –’

‘But steam machines, steam’s harmless, a steam train at full pelt is a sound to behold –’

‘Diesel’s cleaner.’ Septimus drank his beer.

The card dealer stopped shuffling, and the players shifted their eyes to the two sparring regulars at the corner of the bar.

Hamish turned to face his companion. ‘And the world is round!’

He quietly poured his remaining half glass of Guin-ness into Septimus’s hard hat sitting squarely on the floor by the bar. Septimus in turn splashed the contents of his beer glass onto Hamish’s head, leaving his walrus moustache dripping. Hamish raised his clenched fists, took a classic, menacing Jack ‘Nonpareil’ Dempsey pose and started dancing, moving his arms like wheel rods on a train. Purl hastily waved her wet fingernails about and Fred sighed.

‘Come on then Septimus, up with ye dooks, out-side …’ Hamish took a jab just as Septimus reached down to the floor for his hat. Hamish swung two more air-jabs and the third landed when Septimus rose, lifting his arms to put his hat on. There was a soft but audible splat like a raw egg hitting a kitchen table. Septimus buckled, holding his bleeding nose.

‘Hamish,’ said Fred, ‘it is time for you to remove yourself.’

Hamish put on his station master’s hat and waving cheerfully from the door called, ‘See you tomorrow.’

Purl handed Septimus a handkerchief.

Septimus moved towards the door. ‘In this town a man can covet his neighbour’s wife and not get hurt, but to speak the truth can earn a bleeding nose.’

‘It can,’ said Fred, ‘so I wouldn’t say too much more if I were you or else you’ll end up with a broken nose next time.’ Septimus left.

Purl enquired if Reg was donating meat to the footy club again this year.

‘Doing the time-keeping as well,’ said Scotty.

Ruth and Miss Dimm, Nancy and Lois Pickett, Beula Harridene, Irma Almanac and Marigold Pettyman were also approached by the Dungatar Social Committee. Faith was not at home. She was rehearsing, with Reginald. Mona asked the ladies to attend the inaugural meeting at Windswept Crest and to please bring a plate. The newly recruited members of the Dungatar Social Club immediately rang Ruth at the exchange and told her to put them through to Tilly Dunnage.

‘Elsbeth’s got her by the ear at the moment,’ she said, ‘I’m next then I’ll ring all youse.’

When Ruth arrived at the top of The Hill, she banged on the back door and called, ‘Anyone home?’

‘We’d hardly be out visiting would we?’ came Molly’s reply.

Then the others arrived and had to wait in the kitchen with Mad Molly who sat hunched in her decorated wheelchair poking at a burning log with her walking stick. She blew her nose into her fingers and flicked the green slime onto the embers, watching closely as it bubbled and hissed and vanished.

Tilly, professional and gracious, took each of her clients one by one to the dining room to discuss their needs and visions. She noted the members of the newly formed Dungatar Social Club had acquired an accent overnight – an enunciated Dungatar interpretation of queenly English.

As customers, their demands were simple – ‘I’ve got to look better than everyone else, especially Elsbeth.’

• • •

Out at Windswept Crest the new man, Lesley Muncan, sat petitely, knees crossed in the kitchen, peering at Mona’s back as she leaned over the sink washing dishes.

Lesley had been working in the laundry at the hotel where the Beaumonts stayed for their honeymoon when he encountered William in the foyer, reading the paper.

‘The girls out shopping, spending all your money are they?’ he joked.

‘Yes,’ said William, surprised.

‘Enjoying your stay?’

‘Yes,’ said William. ‘Are you?’

Lesley adjusted his cuffs. ‘It’s a nice hotel,’ he said. ‘You’re from the country, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said William, smiling.

Lesley looked about the foyer quickly then sat on the lounge beside William. ‘I’ve done a lot of equestrian work and I’ve got my eye open for a suitable placement. I don’t suppose you know of anyone who needs a riding instructor do you?’

‘Well …’ said William.

Lesley glanced towards the reception desk. ‘Strapper? Stable hand even? I can start right away.’

Just then Elsbeth, Trudy and Mona bustled through the door, bringing with them the smells from the perfume counter at Myers. Lesley leapt to his feet to help with their parcels.

William said, ‘This is a fellow guest … Mr ?’

‘Muncan, Lesley Muncan, delighted to meet you all.’

‘Mr Muncan is an equestrian,’ said William.

‘Oh really?’ Gertrude had said.

‘Mona,’ Lesley said now, and tapped the end of his cigarette with his forefinger, ‘if I can get my foot in a stirrup, so will you – it’s very, very early days yet my dear.’

Mona was afraid of horses but she wanted Lesley to like her. ‘I’ll try,’ she said, running the dish-cloth around and around the clean plate. Mona wanted someone, a partner. Her mother and Trudy were best friends now and Mona often found herself alone in the big house, sitting at the bay window, watching the stables where Lesley worked. He’d set up quarters in the loft, but in the past few days would arrive in the kitchen when he saw her at the window.