Snapshots from Home, page 17
‘I wouldn’t mind doing a story on the Snapshots from Home League for the Gazette,’ said Mr Kemp. ‘Will you drop into the press office this week to answer some questions, Miss Stark?’
‘You ought to write to Mr Entwhistle from the YMCA,’ said Edie. ‘He’s the secretary. I’m just one of the photographers – not an organiser of the scheme. I don’t know any facts or figures, or anything like that.’
‘Mr Entwhistle.’ Mr Kemp had out a stub of pencil and scrawled the name onto a small notebook. ‘From the YMCA. In Perth?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. I’ll write to him. But I’d still like to speak to you, Miss Stark. I think people would like to hear about how the League is operating here in York.’
‘Oh. All right.’
‘Come by on Tuesday, won’t you? I’ll get Pippa to write up the story.’
Kitty was absent from school on Monday. When the lessons were finished, Edie hurried through the wind and rain to the gallery. Teddy’s dog was inside, lying by the counter. She bent down to give it a pat and its tail thudded on the floorboards, smiling up at her with brown teeth. Its breath was terrible.
‘You really do smell,’ she told it. ‘However, you seem good-tempered, so I’ll pretend it doesn’t bother me, dog.’
‘Billy,’ said Teddy.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘His name’s Billy.’
‘Like the prime minister?’
Teddy shot her a grin.
‘Of course.’ The memory of that strange dream bloomed as soon as Teddy smiled, and Edie shoved it away, trying hard not to blush. ‘He may need a little dentistry.’
‘That’s part of his charm.’
Edie straightened up. ‘Is Kitty well? She wasn’t at school today.’
He sighed. ‘I’m afraid she’s taken the death of Longbottom very hard. I didn’t think it would affect her quite so much, but Kitty never fails to surprise me when it comes to her reactions. Poor kid. She’s been inconsolable. She put it all together – the telegram delivery and us being turned away. I think it’s made it all more real.’
Edie ached for Kitty. ‘The war must have seemed very far away before. Now it may feel like it has reached her town.’
He nodded. ‘Yes, that’s precisely it.’
‘Has she known others who’ve fallen?’
‘Yes, one or two. But no one she knew very well and certainly not right in front of her face like this was. Kitty has the emotions and imagination of three or more people, I think.’
Edie had to agree. They stood in silence for a minute.
Teddy sighed. ‘A pity Longbottom didn’t read the literature I gave him last year.’
‘Literature?’
‘An article from The Worker explaining why the nation’s leaders consider farmers the best fodder for their program of human sacrifices.’
Of course his kindness after the visit to Longbottom’s farm had been too good to last. ‘I think it’s in very poor taste for you to talk about the young man like this when he’s just given his life.’
‘I think it’s in very poor taste to pretend his death doesn’t matter.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ she snapped. ‘I’m not pretending any such thing. What do you propose we do about it, Mr Macmillan? How do we resolve the problems in Europe so all our boys can come home?’
‘Impossible,’ he said.
‘Then why do you persist in complaining about it?’
‘Because we can stop our boys from leaving. The problems in Europe are between egotistical men of great self-importance, as I’ve tried to convince you. What we need to do is point that out, so common men see they need not give their lives.’ He raised his eyebrows, giving her a look of significance. ‘Education, Miss Stark. We spread the word. We tell the truth.’
‘Your truth.’
‘The truth,’ he returned. ‘Only a fool wouldn’t believe it.’
Edie pressed her lips together, holding in her retort with difficulty.
‘Do you need film?’ he added. ‘Developing? Dye?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I only came to ask about Kitty.’
‘Well, I’m finishing up here for the day.’ Teddy packed away his job book and pencil. He reached for his hat and shrugged his coat onto his back, heading for the door. ‘Come on, Billy.’ The dog got to his feet and trotted after them.
‘Please tell Kitty I’ll need her tomorrow afternoon,’ said Edie. ‘I have two commissions for the League and I need her assistance.’
He nodded and held the door for the dog. Edie decided this was a good opportunity to air her concerns about Billy’s welfare.
‘He’s very thin. I hope he’s getting fed properly.’
Teddy locked the door and shrugged. ‘He gets a bit of my dinner almost every day. I suppose he scavenges himself a tea during the night.’
The dog settled on the doorstep. ‘You mean, you leave him here overnight? Out in the cold, no food – to guard your gallery?’
Teddy opened his mouth, stepping away from the door – but Gertie Allen was coming along the street and almost bumped into him. He apologised, as did Gertie – then she noticed Edie. ‘Oh – hello there, Miss Stark.’
Edie smiled. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Allen, I hope you’re well?’
‘Yes, miss. And yourself?’ There was something different about Gertie – increased confidence, perhaps?
‘I’m very well, thank you. Is Mrs Kingston in good health?’
Gertie’s eyes brightened. ‘I couldn’t say, miss, on account of I’ve left her service.’
‘Have you?’
‘Yes. I’ve got a job at Mr Barrymore’s offices.’ She glowed with pride.
Teddy told Edie Mr Barrymore was an insurer. She congratulated Gertie on her new position.
‘It’s interesting work, miss, and that’s sure.’ Gertie was prettier than ever with the excitement of her new career.
‘I’m pleased for you. I think Mrs Kingston would have been sad to lose you, though.’
Gertie’s eyes danced. ‘She was right cross.’
Edie chuckled. ‘Well, that’s nothing unusual.’
Gertie gave a peal of laughter. ‘Just as you say, miss. Well, I’ll be on my way – Mr Barrymore needs this note delivered toot-sweet.’ She said goodbye and passed on.
Teddy was looking at Edie like she was a difficult puzzle. ‘You’re friendly with Gertie Allen?’
She was puzzled in her turn. ‘Yes. I met her when I went to Mrs Kingston’s place on League business.’
Teddy made a bemused noise and bent down to scratch Billy’s ear – then he stopped, leaned over further and pulled something out of the wooden boot-scraper by the entrance to his gallery.
It was a white feather.
He met Edie’s eyes.
‘It – it may have been dropped by a duck,’ she said. ‘Then blown here from the river …’
‘It was blown here, Miss Stark? And tucked itself nicely into my boot-scraper where I would see it – where everyone who visited my gallery would see it?’
Edie said nothing.
He glanced around. ‘It’s just a pity the person who dropped it off didn’t have the time to stop and have a chat with me. I wish he’d given his regards in person.’
Edie remained quiet. It was more likely a woman. Women were the worst of the feather-givers. Teddy removed his hat and, to her astonishment, tucked the white feather into the band around its crown.
‘That looks rather smart,’ he said, admiring his handiwork. He replaced it on his head and gave Edie a brief bow. ‘Good day, Miss Stark. I’ll tell Kitty she’s required after school tomorrow.’
He was gone before she could reply.
Edie thought about that white feather a lot overnight, trying to decide who’d sent it. But she also kept coming back to Teddy’s surprise to see her chatting with Gertie in the street. Why was he surprised? He’d made those remarks at the Ellingtons’ party, saying she’d never stoop to friendship with someone of the servant class. Had she inadvertently shown him to be wrong? A tiny gleeful knell went through her.
Her father had never permitted her to mix with anyone lower than them in station, but Edie had secretly formed close friendships with young women he would consider ‘beneath her’ at teachers’ college. And Mrs Ruddick was like a beloved aunt. Edie respected and even loved these working-class friends, but she couldn’t pretend she was the same as them. Frederick spoke of laziness, deviance and ‘natural’ inferiority but Edie disagreed: it was illiteracy; poor schooling – lack of opportunity – that made them different.
She saw it every day. At Miss Raison’s private school, she taught girls of the middle class – daughters of well-to-do farmers and owners of shops and businesses in town. They learned to think and analyse. In her science classes, she rewarded them for questioning what was assumed. Poorer children went to state schools, where education was basic: reading, writing and counting was about the extent of it. They were taught enough to read their bibles and mind their manners. Girls like queer Kitty or dreamy Doreen were not indulged and shaped into sensible, respectable young women. They were humiliated and punished. Questions weren’t met with discussion or research; they were met with a scolding or the cane. Poor children were dragged through a harsh system by sometimes woefully inadequate teachers, then ejected too young and semi-literate to work for a pittance.
Edie wished all children could be well-educated, but didn’t know how it could be managed. The poor couldn’t afford to pay, so they had to settle for what the government provided. Her father had scoffed more than once at the socialist idea that all children should be taught together in schools where they could receive equality of education. She tried to imagine girls like Caroline Jinks, with her sneering attitude towards anything ‘low’ or ‘unladylike’, being taught alongside the rough-handed, down-to-earth Lombard girls. Teddy’s ideals were commendable but how could they possibly be put into practice?
On Tuesday, Kitty still wasn’t back at school. However, as she left work in the afternoon, Edie spotted her outside Edwards’s Store. She called a hello and crossed the terrace, but Kitty didn’t answer. Her gaze was trained fiercely on the sweet jars in the window.
‘Let’s walk, Kitty.’ The girl fell into step beside her. ‘Are you feeling better?’
Kitty ignored the question. ‘Which of them do you think it was?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I think it was Norma. Norma Jinks. She stares at Teddy whenever she sees him.’
‘Kitty, what are you talking about?’
Kitty leaned close and whispered. ‘The feather.’
Edie took the child’s arm and tucked it through her own, patting her hand. ‘Don’t think for another moment about that. It was just foolishness.’
‘It was terribly, terribly cruel!’ Kitty was still whispering. ‘It must have been Norma. She stares at Teddy so, every time she sees him at the picture shows.’
‘I doubt she’s staring at him for that reason,’ said Edie. The Jinks girls were known more for their interest in good-looking young men than for their political views.
‘Why else, then?’ asked Kitty.
‘Perhaps she is admiring his physiognomy.’ Edie said it lightly, trying to lift Kitty’s mood.
Kitty considered it. ‘The big girls do say he’s extremely handsome. Do you think he’s handsome, Miss Stark? So handsome that Norma would stare?’
Edie hesitated. ‘I don’t believe it’s useful to dwell on who did it, Kitty.’
‘Teddy thought it might be you. You’d been visiting him at the gallery when the feather appeared. But Mama said that was nonsense.’
This knocked the breath out of Edie.
‘I said it was nonsense, too,’ said Kitty, seeing her reaction. ‘You wouldn’t do that, would you, Miss Stark, for all you disagree with Teddy’s contrary ideas?’
‘Of course not.’ Edie gazed unseeingly at the street ahead. ‘He really thought it was me?’
‘Oh, he only suggested it once. I do think Norma behaves very suspiciously, but if it wasn’t her, it must have been Mr Watson.’
‘Mr Watson?’ Edie shook her head. ‘Certainly not. He’s a friend of your mother’s.’
‘But Mr Watson is so loud when he speaks about the war, and he says such gushing things about the men who’ve enlisted. If anyone would think Teddy a Cuthbert, it would be him.’ She paused. ‘What is a Cuthbert, Miss Stark?’
‘Where did you hear that?’
‘That’s what the girls at school call Teddy.’
Edie held in a sigh, but there was little point hiding the truth from Kitty. ‘A Cuthbert is an unkind term for a man who doesn’t enlist because he’s helping to run the family business.’
‘And the white feather?’
‘What about it?’
‘Why a white feather? Why not a brown one? Or a red rose, or a fern leaf?’
‘I …’ Edie thought about it. ‘I don’t know the answer to that. I only know it’s supposed to represent cowardice.’
Kitty’s face darkened. ‘Teddy’s not a coward.’ She stared at the ground as she walked. ‘Could it have been June Ellington?’
‘June! I wouldn’t think it was her.’
‘Mama said she sang a song about shirkers at Oakleigh, before I was allowed to come out and watch the dancing.’
‘Oh – yes, but she was just teasing. That was a joke.’
Kitty was incredulous. ‘It’s not funny. She shouldn’t tease Teddy about it. She shouldn’t even mention it. It’s nobody’s business. No one should mention it.’ Her expression had grown fierce again.
‘Kitty, remember that what Teddy says and does – it doesn’t mean people will think ill of you. People will know you for yourself, not for your brother.’
Kitty was silent for a long moment. ‘I don’t know if …’ She took a breath. ‘I’m not sure if Teddy isn’t – isn’t right about the war.’ She couldn’t look Edie in the eye.
For a few moments, Edie wasn’t sure how to answer. The poor child – torn between the views of society and her incendiary brother. Teddy should be ashamed of himself, influencing a child of that age. But then – wasn’t society also trying to influence children of Kitty’s age in favour of nationalist pride? In favour of the relentless push to hand over a generation of young men to the folly of war? Edie pushed away that traitorous thought, wondering at herself.
‘Whatever the case, I agree that whoever left that feather should mind their own business,’ she said to Kitty. ‘But no good will come of your trying to work out who it was. Now, I need your help. Where’s the house of Private Sprunt?’
‘This way. Sprunt,’ she added under her breath. ‘Sprinting to Mr Sprunt’s place, spry and sprightly in the sprinkling rain, sporting a sprig of spruce on my …’ She stopped and Edie tried to help her think of an item of clothing that started with ‘sp’. Sporran?
But before she could suggest it, Kitty turned and gave her a knowing look. ‘I do think it was Norma Jinks, Miss Stark. Teddy’s not that handsome.’
14
Amusing and Interesting Things
After photographing the Sprunt family, Edie and Kitty stopped at the office of the Avon Gazette and York Times. Pippa Kemp welcomed Edie inside and sat with her, pencil and notepad in hand, to ask some questions. She was so easy to talk to that Edie almost forgot she was being interviewed. She told Pippa what she knew about the background of the League and how it worked.
‘Are the families always delighted to see you when you turn up?’ Pippa asked.
‘Pretty well most of the time,’ said Edie.
‘Except for Mrs Kingston, remember, Miss Stark?’ put in Kitty. ‘She seemed very out of sorts that her son the corporal wanted a picture of pretty Gertie the kitchen girl.’
Pippa’s eyes opened wide and Edie choked out a protest. ‘Kitty, no. He wanted a snap of the household and Mrs Kingston was pleased to oblige.’
Pippa’s eyes were sparkling. She made a note. ‘Have there been any other unexpected requests?’
‘Mr Burne wanted a snap of his cows,’ said Kitty. ‘And Reginald Hassell wanted one of his not-very-summer garden, and we took one of the shiny green plough for Private Harris. Oh, and Miss Harris didn’t want to be in a picture for her brother because of her droopy face, and who was the one, Miss Stark, whose mama thought he would like a snap of his tomatoes? And there was a strange case of a gentleman who lived in Melbourne who wanted a snap of—’ Kitty stopped herself, gazing at Pippa in sudden alarm.
Pippa went pink. ‘How interesting,’ she murmured and scribbled concertedly for a minute.
‘I don’t think any of that is very important,’ Edie put in. ‘What’s important is the scheme itself – giving the boys something to stave off their homesickness.’
‘Oh, yes. But I’ll wager what’s most interesting to people is the notion of a young lady going around town snapping photos of things that pull on the soldiers’ heartstrings. It’s a lovely story.’
Edie was dismayed. ‘Not everyone may approve of me doing it, though – and I wouldn’t want my employer upset by the story, or any of the parents of our girls …’ Or my father.
‘I can conceal your name, if you like.’
That was a relief. Edie nodded, then pressed her point anyway. ‘And I’m sure the story will be more about the League, won’t it? About the work being done to keep up the Anzacs’ morale?’
‘Of course. Can you give us any of the photos you’ve snapped?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Edie. ‘They don’t belong to me – they’re for the soldiers.’
‘Bother. Well, thank you so much for dropping in to talk to me. What did you say your name was, dear?’ she asked Kitty.
‘Katherine Macmillan, with a K,’ said Kitty, bending over to ensure it was spelled correctly. ‘I’m Miss Stark’s assistant.’
Pippa chuckled as wrote it down. Edie hoped she was just humouring her, but when the Gazette appeared on Friday, Kitty brought it into school with a grin as wide as the main street.
‘Look,’ she cried. ‘They published one of my photos, Miss Stark! And they wrote all about us!’
