Читать книгу It's Okay You're Not Married - Rosalind Dorrington ( Amelia Williams) - Страница 16

Edward had been going with a girl by the name of Beth whom Dad could not stand a bar of. I won’t be unkind enough to repeat the nickname he called her behind her back, but I can assure you it was not complimentary. Dad was less than impressed when Edward announced she was pregnant and that he wanted to marry her. As far as Dad was concerned Edward was marrying below his standing. Be as it may, they were married and I was their bridesmaid.

Beth had arranged for me to apply for a job at Golden Investments, which was the head office of the Golden Casket agency. She had been with the office for a short period of time before I started there. Working with her gave me a better insight of what she was really like and I knew that this girl was more trouble than what she seemed. I remember overhearing her telling one of our co-workers that Edward had ruined her life because she was pregnant. I may have been ten months younger than her, but I still knew I had more common sense than what she had shown. For a start, I wasn’t that naive that I didn’t realise that it took two to tango, and secondly, I had more self-respect than to sleep with a fellow whom I’d only known for a few weeks. She and her friends always tried to make me feel as if I was dirt beneath their feet. Maybe I was, but if I was, at least I didn’t try to blame someone else for my downfall. I think it would be a fair assumption to say that the entire Long family, with the exception of Edward didn’t approve of Beth, however, we tried our hardest to tolerate her for Edward’s sake.

Working at Golden Investments was different to say the least. There were approximately thirty girls working in one large room, each of them was as different as chalk cheese and chips. Our job entailed writing out the casket tickets for interstate and overseas customers. I can assure you that the majority of the customers had sick perverted minds, if their choice of syndicate names were any indication. Pennytration, Mickey Dripping, 041 Nought E, and I’ve got a l-o-n-g’n for u. These were just some of the requests that come to mind. All of us would have a good laugh at some of them, the more suggestive, the louder we’d laugh. One of the girls who worked near me was a girl by the name of Diana, she and I got along fairly well. We had one particular thing in common, she disliked Beth as much as I did, probably more. Well, actually there were quite a few who disliked Beth, but no one dared show it because Beth was on very friendly terms with the head girl of the office. Of course, when there are more than three females in one office for any length of time, there’s bound to be a certain amount of bitchiness sooner or later. Believe me, not one day went by that at least one girl wasn’t being talked about. One particular girl really sticks in my mind, because her nocturnal habits left everyone agog. In all fairness to her, it would be unkind of me to say that she wasn’t a full quid, but she certainly stretched the strange barrier. Betty washed her black hair in Rinso a common brand of washing powder in those days to try and make it whiter and brighter. She was a very plain looking girl who dressed in child-like dresses and she always wore black school shoes with white socks. Her hair was black straight and cut in the basin style. Most days she would come to work looking like something the cat would refuse to drag in. She would invariably give anyone who was prepared to listen to her, a blow-by-blow description of her sexual prowess of the night before. At first when I heard her telling her stories I thought, she’s got to be kidding. She was not by any stretch of the imagination a very pretty sight. My theory proved to be totally wrong someone had observed her on a number of occasions out with different fellows. Diana and I came to the conclusion that she would have to put a bag over her head before any fellow crawled into bed with her. She certainly had the entire office whispering when she started pumping No Doze tablets down her throat to keep herself awake after a particularly heavy night. It wasn’t long after Edward and Beth were married that I was given my marching orders. According to the boss, the head girl, I won’t even give her the satisfaction of a fictitious name had reported me for swearing too much. I didn’t argue with his decision, but I couldn’t help but smile to myself when I thought of the double standard irony. Hypocrisy by another name. For six months I had been exposed to reading and having to write lewd and suggestive sayings and listening to an obviously overactive, pill popping, nymphomaniac. Yet I wasn’t allowed to say an occasional shit or bloody because it supposedly offended a big fat stuck up bitch who didn’t like me.

Ah well. You win some you lose some.

My losses seemed to be far out numbering the wins though. My luck was bound to change soon though, surely to God.

I loved to dance and going to Cloudland ballroom on Saturday afternoons and to the Railway Institute on Friday nights was the most important thing in my life from the time I left school. I can’t remember what year it was when Johnny O’Keefe arrived to play at Cloudland. He made a big Cecril B de Mille production of an entrance, pushing his way through the kids on the dance floor, wearing a lime green and lemon suit. I took one look at him and said with my usual panache, ‘Oh shit.’ He heard my exclamation and with a swish of his arms he replied, ‘The fans rushed me, I didn’t have time to change’. Without batting an eye, I retorted, ‘I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire’. I know that some people may be offended by that comment, because O’Keefe is a rock and roll icon in Australia. But the truth of the matter is he was also an egotist. And as far as I’m concerned, he couldn’t sing to save himself, he was a screamer and a showman. It was around the same time that I went to a big rock concert at Milton Tennis Courts where I saw Johnny Cash, Gene Vincent and Col Joye on the same programme. I went down to the back of the stage along with hundreds of other screaming fans and we all stood in hope of meeting some of the stars. I couldn’t believe my luck when both Gene Vincent and Col Joye came down and signed autographs. I stood at the wire fence separating them from the fans, and instead of leaving as soon I got their autographs I stayed and talked to them for what seemed like an eternity. I was thrilled out of my brain when they asked me if I’d like to go to a party at Oxley. They gave me the address and told me it was Johnny O’Keefe’s home for when he stayed in Brisbane. I would have given my right arm to go, but I figured that they might have wanted more than my charm and personality to entertain them that night. I declined the offer.

I walked into the Railway Institute one night sporting my first perm which I had paid an absolute fortune for. It had cost me an extra two pound to have a secret formula poured on my head to prevent the perming lotion frizzing my hair. I had arranged to meet Diana, and on seeing her, I walked up to where she was sitting and stood in front of her. She looked up at me and when she showed no signs of recognition, I smiled and said, ‘It’s me’. She looked at me and said, ‘I’m sorry I don’t know you’. Thinking she was joking I said, ‘Ya silly bugger’.

She looked at me again and absolutely roared with laughter and screamed out at top note, ‘What went wrong, did you put your hand in the light socket.?’

‘It’s not that bad is it?’ She wiped tears from her eyes and said, ‘Not unless you plan on joining the Fuzzy Wuzzys.’ It was many years before I dared to have another perm.

I met Robin and her sister, Ellen, through a girl whom I had met at Stott’s Business College. I had known them awhile and I would occasionally bump into them at dances. Robin was the same age as me and had a bit more get up and go than Ellen who was about a year older. Ellen always seemed to me to be a bit on the shy side, she was certainly a lot quieter. Anyhow, Robin had made arrangements with me to go to the Gold Coast on this particular Sunday. After much pleading with Edith she finally consented to my staying at Robin’s home on the Saturday night so that we could get a good start the following morning. I had been to the Gold Coast with Leone on the train a few months earlier and it had been the longest, most boring trip of my life. We had spent most of the journey pretending we were cowboys shooting out of the windows at Indians, just as we had seen on Wagon Train every week on TV. So rather than be bored senseless again, Robin and I decided to travel by bus. We got to the highway in plenty of time and waited for over an hour. When we finally realised that the bus wasn’t going to show up, we were just about ready to go back to Robin’s home when she said, ‘Let’s hitchhike to the Coast’. I was not keen on the idea at all. It had always been drummed into me from an early age never to get into a car unless they were family or close friends of the family. ( Even though I had taken the risk by getting into a stranger’s car in the dead of night, a year or so earlier.) When I said this to Robin, she said, ‘That’s for kids, come on don’t be chicken. There’s two of us, they’d have to be pretty good to beat the two of us together’.

Reluctantly I agreed. It wasn’t too long before an old guy in an old utility pulled up alongside of us. I didn’t like the look of him, but Robin had accepted the lift before I could protest. She opened the door and said to me, ‘Do you want to sit in the middle?’

‘No, I better sit near the window because I suffer from car sickness.’ I sighed a quiet sigh of relief as she scrambled in first. It was true that I suffered car sickness, but that wasn’t the reason I chose the window seat. I may not have been the brightest kid in the world, but I had already figured that if this old coot was going to try any funny business, I had access to the door and I would have been out and up the road faster than John Landy. We got about halfway to the Gold Coast then he announced that he had to make a delivery of a parcel to a house at the end of an old dirt track. My hand went slowly over near the door handle and I never missed a stone on that dirt track. Robin seemed to be totally oblivious of us being in any imminent danger. Fortunately, he was true to his word and he took a parcel into an old farmhouse and got back into the ute and drove us directly to Southport. We got out and we thanked him profusely. I was shaking like a leaf in a westerly wind, both with fear of what could have happened and with excitement that we’d arrived safely.

I made a secret promise to myself that I would definitely not be hitchhiking back to Brisbane or anywhere else for that matter. I told myself, if the worse comes to the worse, Amelia, you’ll catch the train back and shoot the bloody Indians as you go.

We headed to Surfers Paradise and ended up at one of the beer gardens. I’d learnt my lesson from drinking that bottle of Brandivino twelve months or so earlier, not to drink alcohol again. Besides I hated the taste of all alcohol so I stuck to drinking lemonade. Not so Robin, she was sinking them back like a wharfie at the six o’clock swill. We met up with some fellows who lived in Brisbane and they promised us that they’d drive us back to Brisbane after the session closed at six o’clock. I didn’t want to appear to be a worrywart, so I figured I’d take them at their word. But I had a bit of a panic attack when I remembered that the last train to Brisbane left at five o’clock.

I thought to myself, what the hell am I going to do if they change their minds. Sitting in the beer garden was giving me the shits, and I reminded Robin that we’d come down to the coast for some fun and I sure as hell didn’t think sitting there all day was my idea of fun. The lunchtime session finished and we went for a drive in their car, but that was about as much fun as we had because we all ended up back at the beer garden for the afternoon session.

Finally, closing time rolled around and we all piled into the car. I said a few silent Hail Mary’s as thanks and a few Jesus, Mary and Joseph’s to protect us from harm. Someone suggested that they were hungry and wanted to get a hamburger. We drove around looking for a good hamburger joint.

My navigational skills in those days were very limited, however, I think we were at Burleigh Heads and by the time we found a suitable place waited for the burgers to be cooked and actually ate them, it was seven-thirty. By this time, I was really packing death with worry about what time we’d get home. Trying to sound very casual, I said

‘When are we leaving?’

Robin ‘Not until tomorrow morning’.

Totally flabbergasted, I yelled, ‘What?’

She replied very casually, ‘We’ve decided to sleep on the beach’.

I could feel the tears stinging the backs of my eyeballs as I fought as hard as I could to stop them spilling down my cheeks.

Amelia ‘W … when d … did you decide this?’

Robin ‘When we were in the pub and you were in the loo’.

I could feel my heart pound as hard as the surf and as I looked out the car window wondering what the hell I was going to do? A light shower of rain began to fall, tears welled in a flood and about two hundred feet from the car I saw a taxi pull up and a solitary figure alighted and ran to get out of the rain. I grabbed my beach bag, opened the door and ran as fast as my legs could move. I held one arm in the air and shouted, ‘Taxi, Taxi’. The cab driver held the door open and I dived in. I burst into tears and absolutely sobbed. When I finally managed to speak, I said, ‘How much will it be to drive me to Brisbane, driver?’ The cabbie turned around and tried desperately to calm me down and I began to cry again. Still sobbing, I told him what had happened. We looked over to where the car had been parked just in time to see them drive away. The cabbie said, ‘I think you’ve done the right thing, sweetheart, I just hope we don’t hear on the news tomorrow that your girlfriend’s body has been found in some deserted area’. I arrived home at five past midnight and I had to go into Edith and ask her to lend me five pounds (my entire week’s wage) to pay the driver his fare. Edith went off her brain telling me that she wasn’t going to give me a penny for the fare and reprimanded me for not being home hours earlier. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how much she harped on about how thoughtless and inconsiderate I was. I yelled, ‘Would you prefer that I should’ve spent the night on the beach with Robin and those blokes and possibly been raped and murdered?’ There was no immediate reply just a look of disgusted disbelief. I then added, ‘By the time you muck around, the cost of the fare will be up to six quid’ That struck a nerve, she scurried off to get her purse and handing over the fiver she said, ‘You’re going to have to pay me back at the end of the week’. Terrific, her only daughter escapes untouched and unharmed from a fate worse than death and all she can think of is that I have to pay her, her precious bloody fiver by the end of the week. To add insult to injury she added, ‘And lower your voice or you’ll wake your father’.

Jesus. I couldn’t win even if I was the only competitor. Lunchtime the following day, Robin came in to see me at work. She had the audacity and gall to try and borrow some money from me. She was still wearing her swimmers and her hair looked as if it hadn’t been combed. I was so angry I just wanted to punch her into the ground. In my most disgusted and disgruntled tone, I spat,

‘Robin, get out of here before I do something I’ll enjoy’.

You would think that I would have learnt my lesson with Robin and steered clear of her the moment I clasped eyes on her again wouldn’t you? Not me. Approximately six months later, I went to the Railway Institute dance on my own and Robin was there by herself as well. We sat and talked and she apologised for what she had done and I accepted her apology. I had a few dances and talked to a number of people whom I knew and at the end of the night I was offered a lift home, which I declined. I started to walk to the gates of the Edward Street entrance of the Railway Institute on my way to catch my tram in Adelaide Street when Robin ran up behind me grabbing my arm and said, ‘Come on, we’ll give you a lift home’.

I declined but she persisted. ‘I know these fellows, they’re okay. They’re giving me a lift and they said they’ll drive you home too’.

I asked very suspiciously, ‘Where do they live?’

Robin ‘Not far from me’.

Amelia ‘But that’s nowhere near where I live it’s too far out of the way’.

Robin ‘No, I’ve already told them where you live and they said it’s okay. It’s not too far to go’.

Again, I suspiciously asked, if she was sure they were reliable as I didn’t want to have to catch another cab again. I only had two-bob on me and the old girl would kill me if I had to ask her to lend me money again.

She promised me faithfully that they were genuinely nice boys and totally trustworthy. Like a fool, to save a 1/3 (twelve cents) tram fare I got into the front seat alongside of the driver. Robin got in the back seat and as we started to drive out the gates, both the front and back passenger doors flew open and two other fellows jumped in. I turned to Robin

‘Thanks a million, you bloody stupid bitch, when I get my hands on you I’m going to kill you’.

The driver ‘Calm down, they’re friends of mine and I’m going to give them a lift home too’.

Amelia, ‘Well as long as you don’t think you’re going to get anything, because you’ve got another thought coming’.

The driver ‘I’ll take you straight home, I promise’.

I relaxed a bit when he asked for directions. I told him to follow the tramline right to the terminus. (A few months previously we had moved into Judge Jeffery’s home near the tram terminus and my old school, whilst we waited for our own home to be built.)

As we approached the turn, I told him that he could turn left at the next street, that’d take us to the tram terminus’.

When he didn’t turn into the street I said, ‘You’ve got one more chance to turn left at the next street and continue following the tramline’.

He jammed his foot on the accelerator and started the ascent to Mt Coot-tha. I said, ‘You are only wasting your time, because you’ll get bugger all out of me. I’ll walk before I’d give in to any of you. I can fight and I bite.’

He took no notice of me and kept speeding up the mountain. By the time we got to the kiosk all of the others were singing the latest songs. As we careered down a particularly curvy section of the road towards the television channels, I recall the words of the song were, I’m Falling and a split second later the driver miscalculated a hairpin bend and we really were falling. Actually, not only were we falling, we were soaring sixty feet over and down the side of the mountain.

I felt my head hit something and the fellow sitting on the passenger side held me close to him to prevent me from flying out the open window alongside of him. I remember seeing a huge trunk of a light grey coloured tree. Then I was sitting on the ground holding my head and an ambulance officer said, ‘Lie down, sweetheart, you’ve got head injuries’.

I put my hand to my face and head and I couldn’t feel anything wrong and I said, ‘No I’m alright. What do you want me to do, is everyone else okay?’

Another ambulance officer rushed over as I started to get to my feet, he placed his arms around my shoulders and waist and gently lowered me back onto the ground in a sitting position. As he did this he said, ‘Sit down, darlin’ we’re getting you a stretcher now’.

I insisted that I was fine, but that my arm was just a bit tender. He persisted and insisted that I stay sitting down. When I again told him that I was okay he said, ‘You’ve been out like a light for at least twenty minutes. Now just take it easy and just sit there for a while, okay?’ He added, ‘We’ll tend to your face in a minute’.

The driver of the car started to moan and yelled, ‘Forget that bitch, what about me?’

The ambulance man said to me ‘He’s a real charmer, what garbage bin did you drag him from?’ I looked around and it looked like a war zone. Robin was strapped into a stretcher and was carried up the hill to a waiting ambulance. The others were either lying or sitting holding different parts of their bodies in an effort to stop the pain. I was placed on a stretcher and as they carried me up the side of the mountain. I realised that one of the stretcher-bearers was Brian Cahill, the Channel Seven newsreader. He had apparently arrived at the scene of the accident just as we went over the mountain and he had telephoned for the ambulance. Luck had been on my side, if Mr Cahill hadn’t witnessed the accident God only knows what the outcome would have been. As far as I’m concerned, he saved my life.

The fellow who had been sitting alongside of me said ‘God your face is a mess’

I put my hands all over my face, but I couldn’t feel anything wrong with it, ‘What’s wrong with it?’‘Just wait until we get to the hospital and ask them for a mirror’.

I asked him what injuries did he have and he replied, ‘Internal, you hit your head on the top of the steering wheel and your jaw on the bottom of the steering wheel and as the car started to flip, you started to float out the window and I had to grab you to hold your head into my gut otherwise you would’ve been flung against a big gum tree. Your skull has busted something in my gut’.

I thanked him for saving me and he replied, ‘That’s okay’.

I was put into the ambulance and whisked away to the Royal Brisbane Hospital, I was told on the journey to the hospital that Robin was the one with the worst injuries she had a suspected broken pelvis, and shattered leg. It was approximately eleven-thirty at night when we got to the casualty of the RBH (Royal Brisbane Hospital) and the first thing I asked for was to notify my parents and if they could give me a mirror.

One-thirty rolled around and I think everyone in the greater Brisbane metropolis had come to gawk at my face. Everyone but my family and me, they had forgotten to notify my family and hadn’t bothered to bring me a mirror. At two-fifteen Edith and James walked in and on seeing me

Edith ‘Oh my God, look at your face’.

James just looked in total disbelief and said, ‘Shit.’

Amelia ‘Quick, give me a mirror please, I haven’t seen myself yet, these bastards won’t do a thing for anyone’.

As Edith fossicked in her handbag looking for a mirror, I told her and James what had happened.

Edith ‘What time was the accident?’

Amelia ‘About five past eleven’.

Edith ‘Don’t give me that, they rang me at about five to two and said that you had just been brought in and that the accident had happened thirty minutes ago’

Amelia ‘Bullshit, I’ve been sitting here since eleven-thirty pleading with them to call you, ring Channel Seven and ask Brian Cahill, he was the one who rang for the ambulance’.

I could tell by the look on her face that she didn’t believe a word I said.

Edith ‘They said you’d have to stay in under observation, because of your head injuries’.

Amelia ‘Pigs bum I am, I’m not staying here one minute longer, I’m going home right now’.

Edith then handed me her little make up mirror and I nearly died of fright at the sight of my own reflection. I had a huge bump the size of a large duck egg on the right side of my forehead. Both my eyes were as black as the ace of spades, but my jaw was unbelievable. As Edith had described it later, it was the size of a big pineapple, but instead of it being yellow/orange it was totally black. It was swollen to three times its normal size and it sort of stretched down towards my chest.

My other injuries consisted of a broken collarbone and a dislocated right shoulder. The nurse strapped my shoulder and put my arm in a sling and I high-tailed it out of that hospital as fast as I could. When I arrived home, Edith went in to tell Dad that we were home. He was so angry with me that he refused to come out and talk to me let alone to look at me. That upset me more than being taken up to Mt Coot-tha against my will. He believed that I had willingly gone up to Mt Coot-tha, at one-thirty in the morning with four fellows.

The following day on the front page of the afternoon paper The Telegraph there was a photo of the crash. The write up made it sound as if I had been in the car with five fellows. Robin’s name was listed with the other four and my name was separate from theirs. I visited Robin in hospital a few times and she had multiple injuries to her pelvis, hip and leg. She had to have a pin inserted in her thigh and was in traction for weeks. I never saw Robin again after she was discharged from hospital and I never saw the fellows from the crash again.

If I live to be a hundred, I never want to see the driver again, unless I’m carrying a meat cleaver. I didn’t keep a copy of that newspaper report because it had the name of that bastard who obviously had no respect for anyone. His name has been removed from my memory, hopefully forever.

The mind is a wondrous thing, it can memorise and regurgitate at will, or it can choose to eliminate and forget. Unfortunately, my mind gets somewhat confused and I tend to remember most of the things I should forget and vice versa. Hopefully one day I will get it right. But I doubt that it will be in this lifetime.