A Cheat and a Liar, page 16
Anna was quick to realise that it was her envelope and said to young James, ‘Say yes!’ James nodded and finally confirmed that the lady was talking about his little sister.
The medium then said, ‘Young man, I guess the lady sitting next to you is your mother. Please tell her that the photograph in her envelope is of a man who is not deceased, and she will never know anything more than she does today. The man has gone away, never to return, but he has not passed away.’ Anna started to cry. There were many sad moments for many families, whilst others had to return the following week, as their particular envelope had not met the medium’s eye.
As the evening drew to a close, Anna thanked the lady and collected her envelope, still unopened. ‘Your son here must have been very close to his sister. I could see his little sister beside him from the time I entered the hall,’ she said. ‘They must have been very close.’ That made Anna cry again.
James took his mother’s hand. ‘Are you OK, Mum?’ he asked. James had not long turned fifteen, but right now he felt like the caregiver whose duty it was to now look after his mother.
They slowly walked home. Anna didn’t really know whether she had done the right thing by attending the meeting. When they arrived back at their house, Annie and Henry could see that their mother had been crying. ‘What happened?’ asked Annie, putting her arm around her mother.
‘Put the kettle on and make us a cup of tea, please, Henry?’ she asked. ‘We will all then sit in the lounge, and James and I will explain what happened tonight.’
Tea was poured, and Anna and Annie sat on the settee, whilst Henry and James sat on the two lounge chairs. ‘You explain, please, James, and I will add my little bit when you have finished.’
James, still in a slight state of shock, related events of the evening. Finally, he said, ‘I don’t know how she did it. It wasn’t even Maudy’s photo in the envelope, but she knew all about her. I don’t know how she does it.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Anna. ‘The sad news is that your father is not coming home.’
Everyone sat in silence for two or three minutes, and then Anna said, ‘I think we should all now go to bed. Tomorrow, after we have been to church, we will all have a talk about what we all need to do to help each other. Now, let us pray for all of us and your father and for little Maud, for helping us tonight, and hope for a better tomorrow.’
New Zealand was at war, of course, and Anna wanted to let her children know that they would not be the only family whose father might not come home. Little Freddie at first did not understand. He asked his mother, ‘Why, mother? Don’t they want to come home?’
‘They do, love,’ she replied and put her arm around him, ‘but when there is war, men on one side try and shoot men on the other.’
‘Oh,’ he replied, looking down at the floor. ‘Do you think one of those men shot Father?’
Anne was quite taken aback by her youngest child’s connection of ‘missing’ to ‘not returning home from war’. ‘No, darling. I think Daddy just got lost or hurt himself and couldn’t come home. I am sure nobody shot Father.’
Her purpose for keeping her children informed was to encourage them to be compassionate. She knew that what she had explained to Freddie was going to be fact, and once the war was over and numbers counted, some of their friends might not have a father or brother. On the first evening, to the three older children, she explained in simple language how Germany had started fighting its neighbouring countries, and England then declared war on Germany. Almost immediately, as members of the British Empire, New Zealand and Australia had joined England to fight Germany and Austria. ‘The first thing our men did was to peacefully occupy Western Samoa to look after those people, and, later, we joined the Australians and together attacked Turkey (who had joined the German side) at a place called Gallipoli Peninsula.’ Anna had an atlas and explained where the fighting was happening and emphasised how far away the fighting was from New Zealand and how nobody (she hoped) was going to come here and make trouble. ‘That is why some fathers and brothers have to go far, far away to stop the fighting coming to us. But remember,’ she told them, ‘if someone in your class has someone in their family die, be kind to them, because they will be having the saddest time of their lives.’
The following night, Anna read from the day’s newspaper a summary of what had happened, but numbers and details were not spoken about too much. She tried to make it more of a geography lesson; pointing out where our troops were located and then explaining how certain folk in particular places spoke different languages. Then at the end of each evening’s discussions, they would all bow their heads and pray for those who had a family member fighting overseas.
Whanganui, New Zealand, 1918. The Herald newspaper had good news and bad. The good was that Freeman R. Jackson and Co., stock and station agents, were still very active and were in fact advertising Mr J. Twigg’s entire dairy herd, as he had just sold the farm. C. L. Duigan, land agent and auctioneer, was advertising a three-year-old home in the suburb of Gonville for £575, a cheap section in Aramoho for £95, and a home in Whanganui East for £560, available on £25 deposit.
The bad news was all in the ‘Overseas’ section of the paper; headlines like ‘Germany’s Actions Are Menacing the General Peace; 3 Italian Warships, Presently in the Clyde, Recalled; France Feels Austria Trying to Repeat Confrontation of 1909’; and inside the paper, there were reports that a large German fleet had just arrived in the Baltic. It was a frightening read.
Anna sat in front of the fire in the living room of her Wicksteed Street home. Her children were all tucked up in their beds. She looked up from the newspaper on her lap and stared at the burning wood in front of her and thought, I am so fortunate that my three boys are too young to be called away to war, but she knew many of her friends who had husbands and sons who would or could be sent overseas if Britain requested help from its British Empire countries in their case of need. Oh, I must not be selfish, she told herself, but she had heard a lot and seen enough of the sacrifice New Zealanders had made in the Boer War in South Africa fifteen years or so ago.
Her thoughts then drifted to the many children she was teaching. How many of them would have brothers or even their father called away to fight? And Anna shook her head and felt sad. I will tell mine to pray that war can be avoided, she said to herself. She had been teaching at the Avenue School for a year now. Three months after she started, she had been asked to teach in a larger classroom, and she was told she would have fifty-three children to teach. At the back of the class, the wall was in fact a series of folding panels that reached from floor to ceiling and in the past had allowed joint projects to be taught by two or sometimes three teachers, all together having one lesson at the same time, with all three teachers contributing. That morning, however, a fellow teacher of the same age of children as Anna taught had passed in her resignation, and the headmaster had informed Anna that he would open the panels in her room and would like her to teach the two classes until a suitable replacement teacher was found.
‘How many children, then, will there be in my class, Mr Strong?’ she asked.
‘One hundred and eight,’ he replied.
Anna could still hear the number ringing in her ears. She had nearly cried but was never going to show that emotion to her principal. ‘So can I expect double my wage if the children are all taught?’ she had said to him.
‘No. That is not possible, but your wage will be increased’ was the reply.
Nothing more was said at that time, but Anna had ensured she was at the main office immediately the bell announced the end of lessons that day. ‘I am here to ask the exact amount I will be paid to teach 108 children,’ she demanded. ‘You pay me fairly and I will ensure every one of those little mites learns and gets as much attention from me as I can possibly give, and, sir, with respect, I intend to stay here in your office until we agree on all terms and conditions and the amount I will receive. If we fail to agree, then I also will tender my resignation effective immediately.’ Anna sat down in the only chair in front of his rather large desk. ‘I suggest, sir, you discuss this issue with your school committee chairman and, if necessary, meet with all its members, and I will return here at 8.20 a.m. tomorrow. If you then agree with my suggestion, I will immediately proceed to my class of 108 and do my very best for them for the remainder of the year. If you feel that the school cannot afford to pay me what I have asked for, then I wish you well in your teaching endeavours, and I will return home.’
Anna then left and made her way home. Later that evening when the children were in bed, she sat gazing at the fire and thinking of the day’s events. She could recall the look on the principal’s face and his stuttering attempt to reply. He had stared at her for several seconds before he uttered anything. Then he had said that she was the best teacher he had had work for him and that not one parent whose child has been under her tutorship had ever expressed any other sentiment than his or her child has learnt more in the classroom while she had been their teacher than ever before, or even after they moved on. Then he had stopped. She had waited. Five, ten, twenty seconds had passed, and still he had said nothing more, so she had spoken. She had said that if he wanted to lead a school with a top reputation, he would only engage top teachers, and to find top teachers, he must offer the top wage. She had reminded him that she could guess, because of Miss Elliott’s age and experience, what her wage was. She had then said that unless he agreed to pay her that wage on top of what she was being currently paid, she would go home tonight, and when she returned in the morning, it would not be to teach but simply to deliver her resignation. She had then respectfully suggested he go home and prepare either a new wage for her or a lesson plan for him to teach 108 little ones himself until he found not one, not two, but he would probably need three new teachers who could each teach thirty-six pupils and he could pay three lots of wages. There had been short silence, and then Mr Strong had asked her to ‘please be reasonable’. She had then suggested that while his wife was cooking his tea, he not stop to read the paper but instead to work out what he was going to say to her tomorrow morning or otherwise to start looking for those three new teachers. He had then stammered and, in a quite feeble little way, had asked that if they could not afford to pay, what she suggested? She had told him he should ‘think again’. She had then added, ‘Otherwise, Mr Strong, I suggest you pay yourself our two salaries and teach them yourself.’ He had obviously wanted her to stop talking, and she smiled to herself when she recalled then seeing him raise his right hand as if he had quickly made a stop signal; forearm bent at right angles at the elbow and hand open with fingers tightly together. She remembered thinking that he must have learnt that from the driving lessons he had been taking in anticipation of purchasing his first car. The thought made her smile, and she leant forward and poked the fire with the steel poker. Wish I had this in my hand this afternoon—I would have wrapped it around his head, she told herself and smiled again.
Then she remembered that once Mr Strong had lowered his arm, Anna had told herself that all the imaginary traffic must have gone, and he must have felt it was safe to proceed. She had then started to leave, and he had then called, ‘Halt,’ and Anna reined in her imaginary horse and stopped. She had remembered being tempted to call out, ‘Whoa,’ but she didn’t. She smiled to herself again.
The fire had died down, and Anne put the fire screen in front of the embers, turned out the light, and made her way to her bedroom. After readying herself for bed, she knelt beside it as was her custom and prayed. Before she started, she told herself, You can’t pray for him, Anna, but you can ask for the Lord to give him guidance. She was soon in bed and looking forward to her 8.20 a.m. meeting tomorrow.
At 8.19 a.m. the next morning, Anna had been sitting on the long seat outside the principal’s office for four minutes. The office door was still shut. Soon, the principal, Mr Strong, appeared, walking along the corridor towards where she sat. ‘Ah, my dear lady, you are on time,’ he said.
‘More than can be said for the principal,’ she snapped back. ‘It is 8.19, Mr Strong.’ She was going to give nothing. She wanted to keep her job but on her terms. He would have more to lose than she would if he dismissed her.
Nothing more was said until the office door was unlocked and both were inside. Anna sat down. Mr Strong slowly made his way behind his desk and finally sat down also. For a few seconds, they just stared at each other. Then he said, ‘I spoke to the school committee chairman last evening, and—’
‘I don’t want to know what was said last night. I have a class of 108 to settle down and start teaching at eight thirty, if you still want me to work here; do I go to class or hand you my resignation and leave?’
‘Oh, please, please, yes, we want you to stay. I was just going to say that our chairman would not hear of you leaving. He asked why I didn’t accept your offer and then go to his home and tell him.’
Then the principal laughed. Anna stood up, held out her hand and shook his, and said, ‘Now I must go. I have children to organise and teach.’
She walked into her double classroom. The high folding panels were open. Most children were sitting in seats, but some were fighting for a seat. Anna stood about where the panels would divide the room if they were closed and raised her arms in the air. Her present class stopped what they were doing and were quiet, knowing that their teacher wanted to speak. The other half of the room murmured on for a minute or more before there was quiet. Finally, she spoke. ‘Young men and young ladies.’ There were a few giggles. ‘Quiet,’ she said in a firm voice. Then, ‘Some of you may not know, but Miss Bowler has left.’ There were ‘owws’. ‘So I am your teacher now, and I want you all to promise me you will all try and be considerate, kind, and obedient, and I will promise you that I will do everything I can to teach you as much as possible so that in life, when there will be times someone thinks they are telling you something you wouldn’t know, you will be able to reply, “I knew that. My teacher told me in 1914.”’ The whole class laughed. Finally, she said, ‘That was nice to hear you all laugh like that, but I will warn you, there will be times when some of you will feel like crying. If you are naughty, I might make you cry. If you don’t understand, come to me and ask me to explain. I will, and I will like you even more for asking.’ Then she went on to explain how the class was to be set out; how groups would be formed, with one in each group, a leader, and each week a different person would become the leader.
Anna, over the next two days, had the children working together. They didn’t know, but children were grouped by their ability. There was little or no trouble. She didn’t invite the principal in to see her class at work. She knew from comments she received from other teachers that he was aware and amazed, and parents who occasionally met her all commented on the progress of their child.
At home, her own four children were growing rapidly. As time went by, less and less was spoken of their father. She had always suggested that their father must have had an accident while he was away, and nobody could have known who he was so were unable to inform her. The children seemed to have accepted what she said, but she always believed their life together could have continued if he had come home. Often, she said to herself, We could have got through it; it would have been hard, but “blood is thicker than water”, and most money was owed to relatives or companies that relatives managed. From what they have all said to me since that time, they would have insisted they be paid, but they would have waited and been tolerant.
One day, after she had attended the clairvoyant’s evening, she prayed and asked the Lord to please convince him to come home. Several months after those prayers, when he still had not made any contact at all, and when the children were all out of the house, she went to the cupboard and put every photograph with him in it into a bag and put it on the fire.
She cried bitterly, which was a rarity for Anna, and when the embers died down, she went into her bedroom and prayed again. She vowed to never tell anyone—ever what she had done; and she never did.
Chapter 11
The next three weeks went well for them both. Catherine soon became an integral part of her office network. She was, at worst, the equal of any of her office contemporaries and received many compliments from the office principals.
George also had been received well into the world of house building. He had received confirmation that his was now a permanent position. The routine of home, to work yard to building site, back to the yard, and then home had settled in, but changes were in the wind, and George and others were waiting to hear what those changes entailed.
The home life of both Catherine and George was happy, but George had not mentioned anything about feeling somewhat unsettled by a rumour he had heard concerning the building company and his work.
Then in February, the workforce out at the site were asked to be back at the yard by 2.00 p.m. Mr Bassett, the company director, wished to see and speak to all employees. It was Wednesday, and the meeting was held in the largest shed where milled and dressed timber was stored on racks, out of the weather. Five large unsawn logs were dragged inside as seating for some, whilst others sat on space between timber on the racks. At the prescribed time, Mr Bassett appeared from his office and made his way to the shed.
There was quiet as he held up his arm. ‘Gentlemen, thank you for attending this meeting. I want to explain what I have in mind and will require from you. I have called this meeting today so you all can go away and think and talk about it between yourselves and with your families and, if possible, give me an answer by next Monday at 5.00 p.m.
‘The company has a contract to do quite a deal of work starting immediately and carrying on over the summer in Kamloops. Much work has been done there over the past twelve months, but it has been too slow, and they require final clearance of the area previously known as Chinatown before the end of this year. At present, the rail line runs down the middle of the main street, but with the arrival of the automobile, that can no longer be. We are required to finish the demolition of commercial buildings on one side of the street so the railway line can be re-sited in their place; those of you who have been to Kamloops will know that much of that area has. We know the weather in the last month, or so, of summer, sometimes turns cold and wet, so our company has given an undertaking to finish the demolition, and we are planning to go do the work and get out of the place before winter; ideally even well before the end of September. We hope that our presence in the town will bring us building work also; maybe some commercial building, but more likely houses for those folk looking to move into that progressive town. I want the men that we send there to be paid volunteers, not anyone who will feel inconvenienced by being away from home; you younger married men with a wife and children that need help are excused. There will be work closer to home for you. Those of you who are single or those who do not have dependent children at home are those of you that I am asking to please consider.
