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  The head librarian was firm, ‘Only if you learn to type.’ Christina complained to Jennifer about what a dragon the head librarian was and how she kept putting her down because she didn’t have ‘office skills’.

  It was Jennifer’s suggestion that her mother go to TAFE and learn to type and do basic office work. Her mother was initially resistant and it occurred to Jennifer that her mother was uncomfortable, indeed, resentful that her daughter knew more than she did about how to get ahead. When Christina began to mumble about finding a better job, maybe at the pub, Jennifer tackled the issue differently.

  ‘Mum, I just know the basics really, I’m sure you’ll learn it much quicker than I did. Then you can brush up on the finer points and show me.’

  Jennifer was aware she had a responsibility to her mother; that she had to fill the space left by her father and brother. She didn’t like school but she sensed working hard at her studies would be some kind of escape. Teachers gave her the idea that learning had one objective – to get a job. The enjoyment of study and exploring subjects that had little relevance to employment were dismissed as being distractions. Jennifer became aware of implied and subtle pressure nosing her towards acceptable jobs like teaching, nursing, bookkeeping. Other girls wanted jobs where they would make friends and save money until the day they ‘settled down’.

  The only times Jennifer was dragged from the mundane world of small-town jealousies and limited prospects were nights when the dream came. Once more she was floating in the strangely beautiful world peopled by incredible creatures. They lived amongst the sculptured architecture of coloured rocks and fantastic gardens. And all around was the great blue space of invisible sea.

  2

  Country Victoria, 1992

  Ripples and Whirlpools

  FOR CHRISTINA AND JENNIFER this hot Christmas holiday was spent as was the norm now: sweltering in their small house listening to neighbours splashing in their plastic pool, or kids across the road squealing under the hose on the brown front grass. Another strange man sat next to her mother at the dinner table but by now Jennifer had stopped bothering to be nice to these gentlemen callers. She was polite but not encouraging. And they soon ceased trying to chat to the withdrawn seventeen-year-old girl.

  Jennifer had learned her lesson a few years back when, to her surprise, a man had ‘dropped in’ for a cup of tea. A few days later he drove Christina home from work. At fourteen, Jennifer had been thrilled to think her mother had a boyfriend. The next time he came to take Christina to dinner at the Bowling Club, Jennifer had dressed nicely, brushed her hair, put on a pale pink lipstick and some blush on her cheeks, and painted her nails the same pale pink. She was animated as she chatted to Mr Teddich.

  Rather than looking pleased, Christina’s face was tight, flushed and angry. ‘You’re not coming out with us, you know,’ she hissed at Jennifer in the kitchen.

  ‘I know. I have my homework to do and you’ve left dinner on the bench for me,’ she said in surprise.

  Her mother pointed at Jennifer’s flowery ‘best’ dress. ‘And you can get out of that little number, quick smart. I know what you’re up to. Go to your room, change and wash that muck off your face. Don’t come out until I’ve gone.’

  ‘But I have to say goodbye to Mr Teddich.’

  ‘You’ve said quite enough, my girl.’ Her mother flounced out, firmly closing the door.

  Jennifer was hurt and went over and over the conversation with her mother’s friend, trying to think what on earth she’d said or done to make her mother so angry. The subject was never raised again and Mr Teddich never reappeared. But then he was a salesman so maybe he had just been passing through town. Jennifer was sad and vowed she’d try to be much nicer and more careful next time her mother brought a friend home.

  Shortly afterwards, Jennifer heard Christina talking to Vi on the phone, saying she would never marry again. No man was worth changing her life for. ‘God helps those who help themselves,’ Christina told her sister-in-law. The inference was clear – don’t rely on others, especially men.

  All Jennifer wanted was a father. She envied her schoolfriends who had fathers who took them out or were, simply, there. Memories of her own father stirred and made her weep. The more she puzzled over her mother’s rejection of male companions the more she began to fret it was her fault. Then she had a horrible and shocking thought. Could it be that because she’d tried to look and be nice, Mr Teddich thought she was flirting with him? That she was being precocious and provocative? Surely not. But that could well be how her mother saw her behaviour. Jennifer cringed at the thought, guilt stricken that she’d ruined her mother’s chances to remarry.

  Jennifer didn’t need to be pushed by Christina to get an after-school job. She was very aware of their strained financial circumstances, so she took a casual job with the National Parks doing general office work. She also assisted the two rangers compiling survey materials, questionnaires and reports. She found the information intriguing and she gradually came to learn a lot more about her hometown, the operation of the parklands around it, and the conflicts with farmers, developers and people concerned with animal welfare and the preservation of bushland.

  Christina had little interest in the stories Jennifer gleaned from the taciturn head ranger and she continued to encourage her daughter to join the local dramatic society. ‘Just help out backstage like I do. I know you’re not the sort to get up on stage and perform in public, but you have to learn to mix with people, Jennifer. You’re such a wallflower.’

  ‘That’s okay, Mum, you’re the star in the family.’

  Christina missed the sardonic note in Jennifer’s voice. ‘Someone at work said the other day I should be on the stage,’ she smiled. ‘You have to speak up in this world, Jennifer. The squeaky wheel gets the oil. No one else is going to help you. I’d hate to see you turn into a doormat.’

  ‘I’ll be all right, Mum. People are always kind and helpful to me.’

  ‘That’s because you’re still young and innocent. Such a softie. You’ll have to toughen up when you’re dealing with a roomful of yelling, obnoxious brats.’

  Jennifer sighed and turned away. Her mother was determined that she become a primary school teacher. There had never been any discussion. Her mother had raised the idea as a job with good prospects, talked at some length about what she’d been told by one of the teachers who frequented the library, and convinced herself this was Jennifer’s calling. Her daughter hadn’t been consulted. Jennifer’s careers adviser at school had agreed that a teaching career would be desirable. So Jennifer went to see her adviser about university degrees in education. After looking at Jennifer’s high scores, and knowing her mother’s financial situation, he helped her fill out an application for a bursary.

  It wasn’t till Jennifer and her mother were walking home after her high school graduation ceremony, where Christina had basked in her daughter’s good results, that Jennifer announced she wanted to apply to Sydney University.

  Her mother shook her head in sad resignation. ‘That’s all very well and good, but there’s no way I can afford to keep you there. And why bother? You can get a teaching degree at the local regional university.’

  ‘With my marks, I have a scholarship, Mum. A bursary and my government allowance will pay for accommodation and extras. And if I get a part-time job I can live cheaply on campus and pay my way. With a degree I can get a much better paying job.’ She took a breath to make her next announcement as casual as possible. ‘I’ve been considering my options and what I’m really interested in is nature and the land . . . and in Sydney I can study Environmental Science.’

  Her mother stared at her tall, pretty daughter as if seeing her for the first time in years. Her expression was that of someone who had eaten something bad. ‘And what good is that? What sort of job will that get you?’ she asked.

  Jennifer was faintly bemused at her mother’s attitude. ‘Something really interesting. I could share a house off campus, but I though
t a college that was close to the library, classes and the cafeteria would be easier.’

  ‘You would move away from home?’ Jennifer didn’t answer. ‘You’ve looked into this and made up your mind without asking me?’ asked her mother in a slow, even voice that presaged trouble.

  Jennifer ploughed on, her heart sinking. ‘I just thought I’d find out everything first, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, you’ve wasted your time. It’s out of the question.’ Her mother’s mouth snapped closed, her lips thinning.

  ‘Mum, do you want to see the program, the handbook, the classes I can take?’

  Her mother’s pace picked up. ‘I do not. Who do you think you are, anyway? University! It’s just an excuse to get away and play up.’

  ‘Maybe Aunty Vi and Uncle Don could help out a bit. They don’t have any kids. They always said I was like a daughter to them . . .’

  Her mother stopped and turned to Jennifer, hissing through clenched teeth so as not to make a scene in public. ‘That will do. What have they ever done for us? For you? They’d think we were just using them. I couldn’t hold my head up.’

  ‘Mum! They always asked me to go down and spend holidays with them in Sydney. Or offered to take me places. You never let me!’ A deep and long-suppressed anger exploded, causing Jennifer’s chest to tighten, making her breathless. ‘We never went anywhere! We’ve stayed in this town for ten years. I hate it!’

  ‘I work hard. I never had money to let you go on holiday jaunts. I never had a holiday either!’ Christina snapped back.

  ‘You could have let me go with my friends. Their parents said it wouldn’t cost anything to go camping with them. Uncle Don offered to send the train fare.’

  ‘I will not have you conniving behind my back and I will not be beholden to anyone. There’s only one way to get on in this world and that’s to pay your own way.’

  ‘Why don’t you trust people, Mum?’ asked Jennifer quietly. ‘You think the whole world is against you. Everyone is out to do you down.’ Jennifer’s anger dissipated and she sounded more bewildered than upset.

  Her mother strode ahead. ‘You’ll learn. The hard way. And one day you’ll thank me. You think being sweet and nice and playing up to people is going to help you? People use you, Jennifer. Men can’t be trusted and women are always jealous. You stand on your own two feet and do it yourself.’

  Jennifer lengthened her steps to keep up with her mother. She was sad that her mother felt like this. She didn’t see the world or people in this way. And beneath her mother’s steam and fury she saw a frightened and insecure woman who was getting by in life on bluster and artificial self-confidence. Jennifer had seen the reality of her mother behind closed doors and it was very different. For the remainder of the walk home each kept silent with nothing resolved and little said about how they felt or what they really meant.

  Jennifer’s pleasure and pride about finishing school with flying colours evaporated. She’d failed her mother again. And she’d worked so hard through high school. All she knew was that she desperately wanted to get away from this town. And her mother. Now Christina knew it too.

  It was a visit from the school principal later that shocked Christina into agreeing to allow Jennifer to apply to Sydney University.

  Christina was more angry about, as she put it, ‘That man turning up unannounced when we hadn’t tidied or cleared the table. Making me feel like a fool who didn’t know anything. Didn’t care about your future . . . when I’ve sacrificed everything for you.’

  ‘Mum, please. They’re trying to be helpful. Get the best deal for me. Help you –’

  ‘I don’t need any help. You seem to have taken matters into your own hands. It’s on your head, Jennifer. You know I can’t afford to bail you out of trouble.’

  ‘What trouble, Mum? I’m not getting into anything I can’t manage. I just have to watch my money and not be frivolous. When I’m settled in and seen what my workload is like, maybe I can find a job for some extra cash.’

  ‘You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?’ She paused. ‘And if, just if, you get into this big deal uni in Sydney, I suppose you’re planning to see Vi and Don? Are they in on this?’

  ‘Mum, there’s no secret about this. I haven’t mentioned it to them. Just in case it doesn’t come off.’ Jennifer turned her face away, hating the swift look of satisfaction that slid across her mother’s features.

  ‘Well, let’s not count our chickens then.’

  Her mother sat at the kitchen table watching Jennifer take a small tub of ice cream from the freezer. Christina lit a cigarette and slowly blew a jet of smoke towards the ceiling. As Jennifer put tall frothy glasses of Milo milkshake on the table Christina reached out and touched her hand. ‘Don’t aim too high and get your hopes set on something people like us don’t deserve, Jennifer. There’re a lot of opportunities around here.’

  Jennifer didn’t answer. But inside she was yelling, Why don’t we deserve good things in life? Why shouldn’t I set my sights as high as I can see?

  Her mother was feeling cheerful and in control again. Jennifer’s aberration of going to Sydney University would be put to rest.

  Jennifer washed their glasses and went to her room. If only she had someone she could confide in, ask advice, someone who had no agenda but guiding her in the best possible direction. She started to change out of her school uniform. Maybe her mother was right – you were all alone in this world and had to manage your life yourself. She stared at herself in the mirror and saw a young girl on the verge of womanhood: fine pale skin, curves that were still filling out her body, shining golden hair that she cut herself, clear blue eyes and a mouth that was soft and sad. ‘I don’t want to be alone,’ she thought.

  How she missed her father, her big brother. There were no photos of them in the house though she knew about her mother’s photo album in the bottom of a drawer in her bedroom. Jennifer closed her eyes, remembering a laughing boy who’d held her hand, tousled her hair and whispered stories to her when she stole into his bed.

  Sometimes scenes of the sea, that day on the beach, the image of her mother hitting her father in the kitchen, flashed into her mind like a blinking light, but she pushed them aside. It had taken a while but she’d taught herself to make her mind go blank when these uninvited images darted across her interior vision. She swiftly thought of a black night sky. Then small specks of light hovered and she replaced these specks with snapshots that made her happy – brightly coloured fish in pink seaweed, the soft silvery skin of a gum tree beneath peeling bark, a butterfly perched on a leaf about to flutter into sunlight. Then she’d open her eyes and, sighing, return to the moment.

  Jennifer sat on a warm wooden bench at the edge of the university quadrangle gazing at students strolling or sitting on the emerald lawn. Idly, she wondered who else had sat on this old seat contemplating the mellow stone archways and high windows glinting in the sunlight. Much as she loved her university classes and the freedom of being on her own, halfway through her first year at Sydney University she still felt she didn’t belong here.

  Her mother’s belief that she had stepped beyond their boundaries had taken root in some deep place within her. It coloured how she approached everything in this new life. She never felt she wore the right clothes, or knew the same places and people and fads as other students. She felt she had to do her best and get good marks. That she had something to prove not only to herself, but also to her mother. There was a constant pang of guilt over her mother’s living alone in an isolated Victorian country town, even though she knew friends and neighbours were popping by, inviting her mother out as much for Jennifer’s sake as for Christina’s.

  Jennifer’s own social life was uneventful. She sometimes joined a group of friends from uni who went to cafes and bars nearby. Every second Sunday she was invited to Uncle Don and Aunty Vi’s for lunch and she found she enjoyed being with them. Sometimes they went out for an afternoon drive or to see a movie. She would stay the night in t
he downstairs guest bedroom, which was comfortable and spacious. A sliding door opened onto a small patio and the neat back garden where Uncle Don bred birds.

  The compact brick house was almost identical to its neighbour, and, while pleasant enough, it was to Jennifer’s mind a suburban lifestyle that she wasn’t interested in. If she couldn’t have the open space of the country she’d rather have the vibrancy of inner city life. Especially the energy of the students and interesting characters who frequented the blocks around the university campus.

  It was a train ride and a bit of a walk or a long bus trip from Vi and Don’s house to her room at uni, so Jennifer chose to get up and leave early on a Monday morning rather than travel at night on public transport. Her aunt and uncle wanted her to think of the spare room as her own and leave some of her belongings there, but she was reluctant. She enjoyed having the family contact and knew her visits, where she talked about all she was doing, brought them great pleasure. Jennifer found, however, that she had to downplay these visits when she spoke to her mother. Christina’s resentment, or was it plain jealousy, crackled down the phone line.

  ‘And what did you talk about? Must be nice for them to get all the little details you never have time to tell me. At least you’re getting a good meal when you see them. I suppose Vi still does the big baked lunch. Goodness, I can’t remember when I last had a slice of roast lamb.’ And on it went.

  Jennifer didn’t have the heart to tell her that Vi only occasionally did a traditional meal. She was experimenting with ethnic dishes and once a month they went to various restaurants scattered around Sydney – Greek, Vietnamese, Lebanese or Chinese cuisines. She knew her mother wouldn’t approve of ‘foreign’ food. But worse, in her mother’s eyes, was the fact that Jennifer was gadding about enjoying herself with Vi and Don.

  Jennifer’s favourite place to eat near uni was a small cafe called ‘Crush’ that specialised in innovative natural foods and juices. There were tables with umbrellas outside; inside, long bars with stools ringed the walls, and one large wooden table dominated the room. Everyone shared the space and it was a good way to meet people. A selection of newspapers was always on hand and a bulletin board was smothered in notices of events, trade or sale items, people looking for a ride out of town and almost anything else of interest to a university crowd.