Rosalie Ham - The Dressmaker

‘Faith’s a red sequins kind of woman,’ said the sergeant and moved to the dress stand.

Tilly threw her hands in the air. ‘This is a town of round shoulders and splayed gaits.’

‘And always will be, but I appreciate what you make for them. If they only knew.’

‘Whose table are you on?’ asked Tilly.

‘Oh,’ said the sergeant, ‘I’m compelled to be on the Beaumonts’ table with the Pettymans, us dignitaries always sit together.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll ask you to dance, shall I?’

‘I’m not going.’

‘Oh – the magenta silk organza my dear, you would look so … you must come. You’ll be safe with Teddy.’ Sergeant Farrat shook the box and said, ‘If you don’t promise you’ll come I won’t finish these.’

‘You owe it to the gowns to finish them,’ she said, ‘you won’t be able to resist.’

So he left to spend the rest of the evening hemming, tacking down seams and facings and finely camouflaging hooks and eyes.

• • •

Lesley Muncan held his wife at arm’s length, directing his gaze to the ceiling. On the turntable a record circled, stuck in an outer groove, scratching around and around. Mona tightened her grip on his shoulder, moved closer and kissed her husband’s cheek. ‘Mona, stop it,’ he said and stepped away from her.

She wrung her hands. ‘Lesley, I –’

‘I’ve told you, I can’t!’ He stamped his foot then buried his face in his hands.

‘Why?’

Lesley kept his face hidden. ‘It just doesn’t … work. I don’t know why,’ he said, his voice miserable behind his hands.

Mona sat on the old couch, her chin dimpling. ‘You should have told me,’ she said in a wavery voice.

‘I didn’t know,’ Lesley sniffed.

‘That’s a fib,’ she cried.

‘Oh all right!’

‘There’s no need to be angry with me,’ said Mona and dug her hanky out of her sleeve. Lesley sighed and flopped down on the couch next to her, crossing his arms and looking at his slippers. Eventually he said, ‘Do you want me to go away?’

Mona rolled her eyes.

He turned to her. ‘I’ve got no family, no friends.’

‘But you said –’

‘I know, I know.’ He took her hands. ‘My mother did die, that bit’s true. She left me her gambling debts, a disease-ridden, infested stable and some geriatric horses. The horses are either glue or gelatin by now and the stables burned down.’

Mona continued to look at her lap.

‘Mona, look at me,’ said Les. ‘Please?’

She kept looking down. He sighed.

‘Mona, you haven’t got a true friend in the world and neither have I –’

‘So you’re not my true friend either?’

Lesley stood up and put his hands on his hips. ‘What’s got into you?’

‘I’m just sticking up for myself,’ she said looking up at him, ‘I love you, Lesley.’ Lesley burst into tears. Mona stood and held him, and they stayed in the middle of the lounge room for a long time holding each other, the record still scratching round and around. Eventually Mona said, ‘No one else wants us,’ and they laughed.

‘Now,’ said Lesley and blew his nose on Mona’s hanky, ‘where were we? A waltz, wasn’t it?’

‘I’m just no good at dancing,’ said Mona.

‘I’m not very good at a lot of things, Mona,’ he replied quietly, ‘but we’ll do the best we can together, shall we?’

‘Yes,’ said Mona. Lesley kicked the record player and as the opening bars of ‘The Blue Danube’ squeaked, Mr and Mrs Muncan began to waltz.

Tilly watched an upside-down beetle try to right itself on the worn floor boards. She picked it up and dropped it onto the grass. Below her, the light in Teddy’s caravan burned. She went into the kitchen and checked the clock, then checked herself. She sat on her bed, folded her arms and looked at her lap, whispering don’t , don’t , don’t , but when she heard his footfall on the veranda, she said bugger it and went out to the kitchen. Lately she’d found herself sitting next to him and reaching for his arm when they walked to the creek. One evening she’d caught three redfin before she realised Barney wasn’t with them. Tonight he sat on the floor beside Molly, who sang a tune entirely different from Ella Fitzgerald’s. Teddy poured them all a beer, then flopped into his busted armchair and put his boots on the wood box and looked at Tilly, who was stitching tassels to the hem of a lemon, Jacquard jersey shawl for Nancy. ‘I don’t know why you bother,’ he said.

‘They want me to make them things – it’s what I do.’ She put down her sewing and lit a smoke.

‘They’ve grown airs, think they’re classy. You’re not doing them any good.’

‘They think I’m not doing you any good.’ Tilly handed Teddy her smoke. ‘Everyone likes to have someone to hate,’ she said.

‘But you want them to like you,’ said Molly. ‘They’re all liars, sinners and hypocrites.’

Teddy nodded, blowing smoke rings.

‘There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so,’ said Tilly.

Molly directed her gaze again at Teddy, but the young man was looking keenly at Tilly.

‘I’m gunna dig the garden,’ said Barney.

‘Not now,’ said Teddy, ‘it’s dark.’

‘No,’ he said, ‘tomorrow.’

Tilly nodded, ‘Tomorrow, then we’ll plant more vegetables.’

‘You’ve got yourself a golf partner and a first class gardener,’ said Teddy.

‘It’s his garden,’ said Tilly.

‘Freeloaders. You only want food for that rabble down at the tip,’ said Molly.

Tilly winked at Barney, who blushed. Later, when the embers nestled in soft ash, when Molly had nodded off and Barney had long gone home to bed, Teddy looked at Tilly with his head on the side and a twinkle in his eye. She found it unsettling, he made her palms sweat and her feet itch when he looked at her like that.

‘You’re not a bad sort of a sheila are you?’ He suddenly put his boots to the floor and leaned close to Tilly, elbows on his knees. ‘You could make some bloke pretty happy.’

He was about to take her hands when she stood. ‘I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am falser than vows made in wine. I must put Molly to bed now.’

‘I don’t know that one,’ said Teddy.

‘Ah ha,’ said Tilly. ‘Good night, good night, parting is such sweet sorrow …’

She threw a seat cushion which hit the door as it closed behind him. His head appeared again. He blew her a kiss then vanished.

Tilly blew a kiss at the closed door.

• • •

He came to collect her for the ball wearing a new dinner suit, bow tie and patent leather shoes. She was not dressed.

‘You’re wearing your dressing gown?’

‘What if no one talks to you, like last time?’ she asked, grinning.

Teddy shrugged, ‘I can talk to you.’

‘They’ll make it uncomfortable –’

He took her hand. ‘We’ll dance.’

When she looked doubtful, he put his arms around her waist and she leaned into him.

‘I knew you couldn’t resist me.’

She laughed. He could make her laugh these days. He pulled her to him and they tangoed around the kitchen table. ‘We’ll do a jitterbug that’ll send them running from the floor!’

‘And they’ll hate me even more!’ she cried and arched back over his arm, her hair hanging to the floor.