A Distant Dream (18 page)

It was then that Kathleen realised that Harold was a first class passenger, as the theme in their dining room was Corinthian. She felt uncomfortable. He must be loaded to have booked First Class.
Why had he invited them to sit at his table?
There must be plenty of other nobs that could join him instead. She hated ostentation and deplored the fact that class and status still existed in Australia, though not as much as it had before the war. She saw that Patrick felt the same, as he had raised an eyebrow in response to hers.

Too late, the entertainment had begun. A small band started to play the theme tune from
Cafe Continental
and a scantily clad show girl began to dance.

“What can I order for you?” Harold asked, when during the interval, a waiter came to ask them what they would like to drink.

“Nothing for me” replied Kathleen, wondering if it would be rude of her to make up an excuse so that she and Patrick could make tracks to the exit.

“I'll have a beer” Patrick replied, knowing that Kathleen felt that she had been deceived and didn't want to rub shoulders with Harold, but he was hoping to catch another glimpse of the dark haired girl.

“Kathleen, do let me order you a drink” Harold implored. “Perhaps I could order a bottle of something that we could share.”

“A bottle of champagne, Sir?” asked the waiter, anxious to be off as the bloke was dithering. He only had ten minutes of interval time to serve his side of the room. “Yes, a bottle of champers, just the ticket. Forget the beer, Patrick, you can help us drink the champagne too.”

After a turn by a banjo player, a comic and a singing duo, the band leader invited his audience to take to the floor. Harold, spotting his chance, asked a reluctant Kathleen to take a waltz with him and one glass of champagne seemed to have loosened her reserve towards him, they danced to the strains of “When I Fall In Love” by Nat King Cole.

“Hi there, how's it going?” She was standing by his table, her eyes sparkling with mischief at her daring and his disbelief as he saw her there. “Care to jitterbug?”
A jitterbug?
What
was a jitterbug?
Patrick hadn't heard that the rhythm of the music from the band had changed.

“
I'll
show you, it's like rock n' roll, just follow what I do.”

She dragged Patrick by the hand, until they found a spot near to where the band was playing “Rock Around The Clock”. Ignoring his protests about how he hadn't got a clue of how to dance to modern music, she told him to stand close by and watch her. It was easy, nothing to it, just tap his foot to the music and she'd show him what to do. Quickly she pushed off her hand from his hand, drifting back from him in a zigzag motion and then walking back to him again, where she took his hand and guided him through a swing move.

“See, it's easy” she shouted, although Patrick stumbled against her when she went to go under the arch that he had made with his arm.

“Sorted” she said, as the band finished playing and out of breath, they ran back to where Kathleen was sitting watching in amusement. “He'll make a dancer yet” she said, smiling triumphantly, then left them as she walked back to her friends.

It appeared that the young lady was having too much fun on her travels to be bothered with a gauche Patrick, whose eyes searched for her every day from breakfast to dinner hoping for a smile or a word. Kathleen sensed that her adopted son may have fallen in love, at least perhaps he thought he had, but he was far too young at twenty two, in her opinion, to be getting a permanent girlfriend or a shipboard romance. She tried to keep him occupied.

She involved him in the time that she had begun to spend with Harold, who was very attentive to both of them, seemingly uninterested in pursuing one of the pretentious, diamond jewellery clad first class female passengers who could be heard issuing their orders from the comfort of their privileged first class club. He had demoted himself to eating in tourist class with Kathleen and Patrick, insisting that maitre d' provide them with a table just for the three of them, though he hadn't given up his luxuriously appointed cabin on A Deck. Hours were whiled away learning to play whist, baccarat, quoits and attending lectures on marine life, mountaineering and the history surrounding the lands that they would be passing by. It was a pleasant way to spend their days, made even better by the mild temperatures as the ship cruised along the Southern Ocean on its way to Fremantle. Already tanned by the unrelenting sun, which Patrick had endured through his teenage years whilst working at the Aldridges', he had no inclination towards lying on one of the wooden deckchairs as most did, preferring instead to gaze into the distance to the horizon, imagining his joy when he saw the land of his forebears once more. It was little wonder when a hearty slap on his shoulder caused him to jump in alarm, shaking him from his reverie.

“Penny for them.” The girl was standing beside him, grinning from ear as she saw his stunned face after he had looked towards her. “I said penny for them. My, you were lost in your own little world for a minute, weren't you? I'm Mel by the way, pleased to meet yer. How's it going?”

“Er, I'm Patrick Mayo.” He stuttered a little as he shook her outstretched hand, wondering why she had singled him out to talk to when her friends, both male and female, were lying about on chairs along the deck. Not only that, she was wearing a navy blue, one piece swimming costume which showed off her ample figure and long, tanned legs. He decided to look instead into her beautiful eyes, the colour of cornflowers and fringed with dark lashes, rather than stare at her attributes like a slobbering idiot, which was how he was feeling just then.

“You should come and join us” she said, waving her hand towards her group, where one or two of the other similarly clad girls were regarding him with interest. “We're all taking a gap year. Well me and Sue are, the others have fathers with fat wallets who are paying for their sabbaticals. Me and Sue are doing Europe, but we'll have to sing for our suppers on the way.”

Patrick nodded. It was all he could do at that moment, he was so tongue tied. Never having been used to a girl starting a conversation, especially one who had introduced herself so forwardly, he was at a loss to know to react to her.

“Cat got your tongue?” She grinned again and in that instant he didn't want the moment to ever end. It was like the time when he had stood in line with the other orphans in the community hall, anxiously waiting to see if he was chosen by someone who looked to be kind and Kathleen had taken him by the hand and led him away to warmth and security. This was something he hadn't felt, as a child without parents, for a long, long time.

“No” he said haltingly, staring across with dread at the bright young things, who had probably never put in a hard day's work as he had, knowing that he would never fit in with that circle in a million years. “I promised my aunt I would accompany her to a lecture on the history of Fremantle, she likes that sort of thing.”

“Poor you. Well never mind, perhaps we can meet up later. G'day to you, Patrick, you'd better go and join her then.”

He watched as she turned away. Signaling a passing waiter to get her a lemonade, she joined her carefree friends.

Meantime, Kathleen was sitting with Harold in a small corner that was reserved for taking afternoon tea or whiling away a few hours in the sunshine. She had begun to warm to Harold, who always seemed to be hovering, seemingly wanting to give her his attention at every opportunity. He had explained to her, in a moment of brutal honesty, that it had been his daughter who had purchased the first class ticket on his behalf, after receiving a letter from his sister in Lincolnshire, telling him that his elderly parents were losing their hold on life and that if he wanted to ever see them again it would be wise to make the journey home.

“I went into a bit of a tizz when I read her letter” he had explained.“You never think that the day will come when you'll be one of the older generation. They were always in their sixties in my mind – active, spritely, well able to run the farm at Nethercote without much help. They would always be there to give me a home if my money and luck ran out.” It had been the mention of the farm that had sparked Kathleen's curiosity, why would he have left it to make a new life in Australia? He soon supplied her with an answer.

“It was after the war. I did my time, dodged the bullets, killed a few
Jerries
, then returned to “Civvy Street” to find that our land was certainly not fit for heroes. All I had was sixty pounds and a demob suit to show for my pains. I had a wife and two growing children and one day the wife said she thought it would be a good idea if we took up the government's offer of a ten pound passage to Australia. There'd be work and accommodation guaranteed and the children could grow up in the sunshine. My parents, though upset, didn't want to stand in my way and they would always have the support of my younger sister anyway. She lives in the same row of cottages as we had, with her husband and two sons. So off we went and I met up with a cousin in Melbourne and we set up a business together. We did rather well, even if I do say it myself.”

It appeared then that he felt he'd said enough, as his eyes misted over and Kathleen could sense that he was reluctant to tell her more. He urged her instead to tell him her story and listened as she told him there wasn't much to tell. A spinster with the care of an orphan, she had worked all her life on her brother's farm. She was treating herself and Patrick to a trip around Europe, but that was as far as she had got with her plan.

“Certainly not a wasted life and one to be commended, doing things for others. I remember when Joan, that was my wife, I remember when she had wanted to adopt a little orphan. Just as well we didn't in the long run. Can I get you another beverage, dear lady, or perhaps an orange juice to take your thirst away?”

*

“Fremantle in Western Australia” the speaker boomed to her audience of interested people, who had gathered in one of the public rooms for a talk on the history of their first port of call.

“The settlement began in April 1829, when the
H.M.S. Challenger
arrived in the waters of the Western Australian coast at the mouth of the Swan River. Captain Fremantle formally took possession of the lands, previously known as “New Holland”, on behalf of King George 1V of England. Later, a Captain James Stirling arrived from England to begin the Swan River Colony of Perth. With him came 400 free settlers, including, a harbour master, surgeon, bricklayer, blacksmith and a boat builder, their wives and over twenty children.”

The woman paused for breath and took a sip from a glass of water that had been placed on a nearby table. She saw that she had the peoples' full attention and gave out a little sigh.

“By 1832, 1500 people had settled there, but they found that the land was hard to cultivate as the vegetation was tough to clear and the soil was poor and sandy. Times were hard and in the Depression of 1843, many people decided to leave to try their luck in the gold fields of Victoria. Man power was badly needed to build vital communications, transport and an administration framework if Fremantle was to survive, so the Secretary of State for the Colonies back in Great Britain, sent out a gang of convicts solely employed for this public work.

As you can imagine, the free settlers were rather aghast when they heard the news, but the convicts kept on coming and by 1868 over 9,000 had arrived. Luckily, all were men who had nearly completed their existing sentences and were more than willing to finish their punishments there. You can see the products of their labours when we anchor in the harbour just off Rottnest Island, as the colonial building named the Round House, the Boys School and the Lunatic Asylum are still standing to this day. Any questions so far? Can you hear me at the back? Young lady, you seem to be showing a profound lack of interest in what I am saying to the other members of the audience. Perhaps you and your friends would like to find another venue where you can chat amongst yourselves.”

“Is that the young girl who got you up to dance the other evening, Patrick?” Kathleen asked in a disapproving voice, when all heads turned to see who was causing a distraction. Patrick nodded. Her presence had surprised and discomforted him. She and her friends didn't seem the type to enjoy a lecture on history, so he hoped that they hadn't come along in an effort to embarrass him. He felt relieved, when taking note of the authoritarian voice that the woman had begun to use in an attempt to restore order, and with the possibility that she could have had them ejected anyway, the group moved on, laughing and joking as they went.

“So to continue. The economy of Fremantle was based on wheat, meat and wool and in order to market their goods, the railway line from Perth was built in 1881. In 1887 there was the erection of gas lamps on the main thoroughfares and the telephone exchange in 1888. By 1890 there was a water supply to all the town's dwellings and public buildings and by 1897 there was a hospital. Then in the 1890's, Fremantle had its own gold rush. This brought a surge of immigrants to the area, which in its turn brought an increase in agricultural output and created new businesses. Stylish buildings such as the Esplanade Hotel sprang up, which attracted the rich and wealthy. And to finish my lecture, which I hope you have enjoyed, even with our earlier interruption, in World War Two, Fremantle had the largest submarine base in the Southern hemisphere, quite a feather in the cap for those employed there.”

“And I say amen to that” said Harold, as the three of them wandered out of the room to settle on some chairs from where they could order drinks from the waiter. “It helped to win the war against those pesky
Japs
,who thought that they could rule the world just like Hitler tried to do, but we showed them. Once the
Yanks
came in they never stood a chance and the world is all the better for it.”

Except I don't have my parents,
thought Patrick, feeling bereft as a pang of longing for those two people that had given him life struck him, knowing that they wouldn't be there when he got back home to Ireland.

“So, dear lady, any thoughts of what you would like to do when we get to Fremantle? Patrick? If it is not too presumptuous I could show you both around Perth. It is only twelve miles away from the port and can be reached by rail, or we could hire a taxi. Fremantle of course, has fine buildings and plenty of history as the lecturer has just informed us, but perhaps you would like to venture further afield.”

“Well” Kathleen was at a loss as she listened to his invitation. She was tempted to seek his company, but what if it lead to something – well perish the thought, more than she expected from this voyage of independence with Patrick? Friendship, romance – he was still good looking in a rough diamond sort of way. But didn't he have a wife, or hadn't he had a wife? Hadn't he said that it had been his wife's idea to move to Australia?

“You go, Kathleen. I'm not bothered about trailing around places that I don't really want to see. I'm happy to stay on board and perhaps have a look around the library. I keep meaning to see if they've anything on Ireland, even a map to consider would be just the thing.” Patrick didn't want to be a gooseberry.

“If you are sure.” Kathleen's heart leapt a little at the thought that just for once, on the arm of a man like Harold, she could indulge in a little role play, pretend that she had a husband for the day.

“I'm sure. Now let's get ready for dinner, I'm starving.”

*

It was eight o' clock in the morning when the ship tied up alongside the wharves and warehouses of the Long Jetty. “When in Perth Shop at Borns” shouted one large sign on the side of a commercial building. “Welcome to Australia From Fortuna Fabrics” said another. The dockside was awash with humanity. Trucks, trolleys, cars, dockworkers, sailors and officials dressed in navy suits, all could be seen below by Patrick, as after breakfast he watched Kathleen and Harold descend down the gangway to the pier. It was warm already and he felt glad that he'd decided to stay aboard, rather than go sightseeing. What did he care about how Perth was built, its economy and if it had been a free or a convict settlement? His only wish was to tread the soil of his beloved Ireland and learn of the trials and tribulations of his own country's history. He waved as the couple turned to look back upon the
Arcadia
, then reddened as he saw that the girl named Mel was waving up at him too.

*

As the ship nosed its way through the calm waters of the Indian Ocean, its next of port being Ceylon, many passengers took advantage of the sporting activities on board and the less agile drifted along throughout their days. Kathleen and Harold, finding themselves to be kindred spirits when it came to all matters appertaining to the various card games that were on offer, spent many hours in each other's company, leaving Patrick at a bit of a loss about what to do with his time. He had read most of the books that the library had on Irish history, could probably walk blindfolded across from Dun Lagaore, to Ballina, having studied most of the maps that they'd had on offer and was finding it hard to fill up the hours until another day was over and it was bedtime. As for the girl who might have invaded his dreams, had she been shy and less juvenile than she appeared to be when walking around with her peers on the vessel, he had hardly caught sight of her, because he avoided the places where he thought that she might be. Dancing had no appeal, an occasional pint of Guinness was enough to satisfy and as he had never indulged in any recreation that involved a ball, other than the odd kick-about with the Aldridge boys, his time was spent moping about or watching films at the ship's cinema. Decked out in classic Greek style architecture with plaster gods and goddesses, and the installation of a big screen that had opening and closing curtains, Patrick became enthralled by “The Rats of Tobruk” starring Peter Finch and a colour film called “Jedda”, a story which starred an aboriginal girl in the Northern Territories.