The pile of magazines and books in the newspaper rack beside Angela’s chair grew and grew. She wanted a job in a florist shop to help her decide about a business of her own, and every night a book lay open on her lap, or the classified pages from the Herald, with circles drawn around relevant advertisements.
Prue had abandoned learning to knit. It was too hot and sticky, she complained. Happy at school, some weekends she stayed overnight at a girl friend’s house. ‘We have midnight feasts,’ she skited to Sandra. ‘My friends have got hundreds of records.’
‘They have not,’ Sandra said sourly, but envious of the possibility.
Prue ignored the rebuke. ‘My favourite’s Boom Boom Baby. Crash Craddock’s sooo good looking.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘He sings that his baby did the chicken in the middle of the room. What’s the chicken?’
Sandra knew her companionship with Prue was slipping away. There were times when she missed how they used to ride their bikes to the creek, or drew pictures together, making up stories. But most of all she missed Emilia, missed all those afternoons after school, sitting on Emilia’s bed talking about everything and nothing, and at the weekends whizzing around the roller-skating rink or lazing in the warm grass at the old cemetery.
At her new school, next to the confident city girls, she felt like a country bumpkin who would never fit in, with nothing to say of any interest to anyone. No matter how she dressed or how she did her hair, it never looked right. Maybe she should get a perm like some of the girls in her class? She tried to picture what she might look like with really curly hair, but when she brushed it thoroughly and wound it in a plait, she was glad for the thick weight of it. Nick had called her ‘my pretty piano player’, so why change what he liked?
Meredith developed a suspicion that all was not as well as it should be, and often suggested that on Saturday mornings she and Sandra make an excursion into the city shops, or to Rowe Street to discover what was new in the art studios and decorators’ windows.
On these days, thanks to auntie, Sandra returned home feeling better.
23 Tyrell St.,
Randwick, N.S.W.,
19th March, 1961.
Dear Emmy,
I said I’d write with more news and here it is! No, I didn’t find the painting and I searched in all the rooms. It was loaned to the gallery so it must’ve been given back. I saw it with Nick, and he said I looked like the girl in the picture. I was sad not to see it again but I’m all right now.
I had a lovely time with Aunt Meredith yesterday, we went to the tea room where I went with Nick, then we went to David Jones and pretended to buy hats. Auntie took all the pins out of her French roll so she could try one with net that came down over her eyes and looked so beautiful. She has red hair, I think maybe she dyes it.
Auntie is really glamorous and not at all like Dad. She told me she used to dance the tango at the Trocadero which is a dance hall in the middle of Sydney. Her boyfriend was in the army! I worked out she’s 32, I wonder why she never got married. Sometimes I think it’d be good to be like her when I grow up. All I would do is study piano and play in concerts and travel the world. Mum says I’m selfish when I tell her that.
It’s Easter next week, hooray! We’re having an Easter egg hunt in our garden. On Sunday we’re going to the Royal Easter Show and I wish you could come too.
Do you think your parents would let me stay with you in the May holidays? I would come on the train.
Love from Sandra xxxxx
15 Bentley St.,
Curradeen.
Saturday, 25th March, 1961.
Dear Sandy,
You can come and stay, thats real good and Pa can’t ask me to work in the shop if your here.
Guess what, Nick came in the shop today with Mrs Morgan and I got to serve them. She bought Easter eggs. He is a bit bent and has two walking sticks. I thought you would like to know. We go to Mass lots over Easter. The best bit is Nonna makes special bocconotti bikkies, made of pastry filled with armands and cherry jam and with icing on.
I wish I had an auntie like yours. When my relatives visit us they all talk so fast and shout at me Emeeeeelia! Ora parla italiano! I think my auntie and uncle dont like me because I don’t understand them. I was born in Australia and at home I talk how my family talks.
Nonna knits all day with a black scarf on her head and a skirt down to her ankles. She doesn’t know English but it doesn’t matter. I like it when she sits in the shop with me. This week my brothers, Nonna and me helped Mamma make tomato sauce with hundreds of real ripe tomatoes, we take the skins off with hot water and after its all boiled up with Pa’s onions and garlic and herbs we squash it into jars. I like that part best. Mamma is going to put some in the shop to sell.
I’m so excited your coming to visit, we all miss you, Mamma, Pa, and my 2 silly brothers.
Love from Emmy xxx
23 Tyrell St.,
Randwick.
3rd. April, 1961.
Dear Emmy,
I booked my train ticket and I’m counting down till I leave. We’ll have 5 whole days to do what we like. Can we borrow another bike and ride to the cemetery like we used to and I can visit Miss Brooks too? I’m glad I won’t be here because the kitchen is going to be painted and Mum has to put everything away. Prue wants to help, she’s such a goody- goody when she wants to be.
I am so happy that you saw Nick. I want to know more. What does he really look like, you said he needs sticks to walk.
Did he say anything? What did Mrs Morgan say or did she just buy Easter eggs? Tell me everything, pleeeeeeeeeeeeease.
The Show was good fun and we got some sample bags. I got very sun burnt and we sucked lots of ice blocks to keep cool. The grand parade was enormous, I liked the horses best. In the cat pavillion some of the cats are so beautiful it’s lucky Ginger doesn’t know he’s only a plain “ domestic short-haired tabby.” Prue spent all her pocket money on rides and she ate so much fairy floss she vomited last night.
Only one month to go!
Lots of Love from Sandra xxxxxxO
15 Bentley St.,
Curradeen.
15th April, 61.
Dear Sandy,
I posted your birthday present this week plus Nonna knitted you a surprise!
My grandpa died on Wednesday. We are all very sad. I went to school but Pa came to get me. The funeral was yesterday and we put roses and white lilies on his grave.
We will be at the station to meet your train. Nonna said you will help us to smile again. I will write more next time.
Love from Emmy xxx
23 Tyrell St, Randwick.
20th April, 61.
Dearest Emmy,
I know you must be very sad your grandpa died. I hope you liked the card Mum sent. I wanted to write my own letter and tell you that I think of you every day, and wish I still lived at Curradeen but I’ll soon be there.
Thank you for the box of lace hankies with your pretty card. I got it today on my birthday! Please tell your Nonna thank you for the scarf, it’s so long it must have taken ages to knit. We ate some of your biscotti last night and I cried in bed again. Carol is O.K. I suppose, she still sits with me but I don’t know if it’s because she likes