Jack Cox - Dodge Rose

then just when i have decided to give up mother suddenly gets it into her head to take me shopping. you have no idea what the department stores were like then they were what we called a true outing. from king street all the way up and down to broadway. most are gone now. mcdowells, david jones, beard watson, f. lassetter, w. w. campbell, r. h. gordon, bebarfields, morley johnson, the a. c. o., a. hall, anthony hordens, j. a. booth, simpson lee, marcus clark, grace bros. we caught the tram down william street past the blind society and yee chongs laundry with the lux and lifebouy and sunbeam cleanser and changed for anthony hordens palace emporium on brickfield hill. lease destroy on alighting. now that was a really splendid place, with floors and floors and tearooms and restrooms and phone booths and a post office and even a branch of the commonwealth bank which mother was naturally pleased about. there were polished marble floors and embossed steel ceilings produced and finished in hordens own factories. the tram stopped on george street in front of the central tower with the oak tree logo. While I Live Ill Grow. look, chick.

mother lifted me off the step and pushed me up between the bustling skirts to the huge windows. my the models are getting frighteningly real. i wonder if you can get a lippie like that inside. enchanting. come on now, you arent going to make it impossible to unstick you are you.

i could not see any people. i could see only fountains and rock grottoes and hundreds of little green and gold trees.

chick, darling, get moving. whats the matter with you.

in the haby department an attendant suggested rosebud or swansdown trimming for mothers undergarments but mother just wanted to buy some rhinestones for embroidery and two pairs of holeproof shear loveliness and one pair of black magic. that woman was trying to sell the clothes off her back. i remember i sifted through the buttons while i waited and found a tortoiseshell heart with a thin gold arrow through for the clip i wanted to have a closer look at, maybe later, when someone said get your fat little hands out of there and gave me such a scare it disappeared forever. you could get mohair boot laces and aero silk and nainsook dress shields and there were ribbons getting wider and wider in velvet and crepe de chine and moire and lace.

after that we were wafted up a level on convergent waves of atkinsons californian poppy and colgates cashmere bouquet and fauldings lavender water musk and black narcisse and the slightly clogging scent of cheramy joli soir face powder which an officious attendant held beneath a puff ball somewhere ready for application behind a uniaxial backlog of cheramy pour le theatre. cut out without hands. throughout the whole wide world the love of music is inherent. it is a birthright. to withhold music from the kiddies is to deprive them of an influence that has much to do in the shaping of their destinies. so give them music. but instead of setting them off upon the heart breaking path of musical tuition, install a player piano, and so enable the veriest toddler to immediately produce music of the most finished kind. the attendants were mostly lovely. except for one woman who seemed to be looking at you sideways but mother said she didnt work there. in the hat department we bought a hemp straw two-tone hat with an ottoman ribbon. this lady knows what she wants said the hat attendant.

i have the catalogue on me.

we bought a pair of marshall shoes with cushion heels and a velour coat for me with a tailored collar and smart fawn pockets. youll have to put that away chick till youre cold. then in the glove department mother saw a pair of suede lisle petal gauntlet gloves and the girl brought them over and opened the fingers with a pair of tongs and shook powder inside and sprinkled a little on mothers hands and gently worked the fingers onto them. i think theyll suit me fine. in chamois or grey, madame. we chose between a brown python and a crocodile clutch bag and then i had a glass of lemonade in the rooftop tea garden.

chick, what is the matter. why are you holding your ear. why youve been perfectly distracted since we got in here, i hope you arent feeling unwell darling.

it was cool up there under the palm fronds with the lemonade sparkling in the tall glass the waiter carried over on a platter and put down on the wrought iron table in front of you with a soft clink. and the children playing at the edge of the fountain and their frocks were blinding out there in the sun. i think i would have liked to have known them. to borrow. to begin. t. dad and mother were keeping me back from school and mother wasnt one particularly for making introductions to strange children. i dont think she ever really adjusted to the city. it was the perfect scene for someone to walk in on you but we never saw anyone we knew. in the furniture departments those days you could buy a complete home set for a hundred and forty three pounds.

we got the hat and the coat delivered and mother carried the dress home and the haberdashery and the gloves in the python bag. we went to the tram stop on elizabeth street with the black and white destination sign that said wooll’mooloo on a diagonal and the tram turned at park street and branched at college. some have disappeared now. faucet lane, corfu street, malta place, burrahpone street. one time a man from the fire underwriters society showed me a map where you could see right into the stairwells of the buildings and their wooden floors and dormer windows and open joists and brass railings and when a building was knocked down or a new street put in they drew that part again on a new piece of paper and glued it onto the map. i think it was a man, let it be a man it may as well be. mother changed into her new dress before dad came home. it was a rayosil chine frock with a pleated frill scalloped edge and pleats partly stitched down and a belt. can i eer forget thee. what do you think she said as she met him in the corridor and made a curtsey. its stil de grain.

dad wrinkled his face and said ja that it is.

but the taste was infectious. have a look at this. you know we must get one sooner or later. yes, an eight day is good. i like the golden rod but i dont think much of the sound of imitation marble, if only we could have it in something mottled, like myrtle. what is an inveroid dial.

youre being difficult on purpose.

well you know how i like to come home from the office and be free of it for an evening. it is a very mild eccentricity you could bear with it while you can. we each have our own after all and the little one doesnt notice.

dad and mother were going to the theatre that night so mother called on miss fox. later we were surprised by an invitation to a party on spec at the misses blomfields. they were expecting to find my parents in but miss fox said why not we could probably go down for a little while. never seen so many people in one room. they laughed and talked softly then loudly and smoked so much the room is full of it. some are sitting on the furniture and leaning over one other and many are dancing. piano players are everywhere. i remember the rhythm in the floor. i sit trussed on the sofa with miss fox who fiddles with our clothes and eyes the girls from the heels up. some people beside us have been to the zoo. i have never been to the zoo. grounds are marvellous. ashton park trust. the council got it back and pulled up the scrub. there we go. click clack. if the analgesics dont work you can put your head between your knees and rock. what did you say. i saw a civet have you ever even heard of a civet. a young man on the telephone must have been important back then saying, he would have swallowed his own pearls. but he said he was that parched, and a wreck, you know, one tried to hide his up a, up a cimarron in waiting but when she put her leg out for the doomed longboat the sea took her own back, no diamonds, not their place. dont know, havent seen him for months, stuck his finger in some babblerie or other. yes married, the bastard. someone sings a song and i fall halfway asleep in the bony cavity of my minders lap. i can hear it still, through that girls tympanum, like a dived duck. my dove mother called me. i wake in the arms of the pilot as he lifts me in the muffled dark of the early morning. we go in the lift and when we turn on the landing mother is standing in the doorway in her evening gown and she holds out her hands towards me. well constance i think she must have missed most of it. i left her minder gently snoring.