1

November 1914

Light streamed through the glorious stained-glass windows making a dappled mosaic of colour across the white altar cloth. Kate stepped forward and knelt at the altar rail. Peace washed through her as she stared up into the placid marble face of the statue of the Mother of God set in the blue and gold painted niche above the altar.

But it was only for a moment—thoughts of Jack flooded back. He said, they all said, it would be over in six months. They were anxious to be off, afraid they would miss out on being part of this great adventure. She prayed they were right and by this time next year they would be home and she and Jack would be married.

She closed her eyes and recited St Patrick’s Breastplate, changed so she could say it for Jack.
Christ be with him, Christ within him…
Her prayer finished, Kate rose and gazed around the Lady Chapel. It was a jewel box of colour, the walls and ceiling painted in rich yellows, greens and reds; decorated with swirls, white lilies and, in the shadows of the vaulted ceiling, angels.

She went to the bank of votive candles flickering on the brass stand near the archway to the nave of the church. Taking a thruppenny bit from her handbag, she dropped it in the collection box and picked three candles from the tray beneath the stand. She lit the candles and placed them in a row—each flame carrying a murmured prayer.

Glancing back to the statue, she whispered, ‘Holy Mother, watch over them all.’

The church was hushed despite the number of people coming and going—to confession, to kneel and pray, or simply to sit for a moment of peace apart from the world.

Kate slipped into the pew beside Aunty Mary, who was kneeling, her head bowed as the beads of her rosary slipped through her fingers. She knew her aunt was praying for her cousins, Brendan and Vince, already sailing towards the war in Europe.

Kate gazed towards the comforting red glow of the sanctuary lamp suspended from the arched ceiling near the altar. She knew she should slide to her knees and pray but she couldn’t help but stare around. The church was more richly decorated than the churches she was used to at Briagolong and at Maffra, from the ornate stencilling on the walls of the Lady Chapel to the large Stations of the Cross with their golden background. Statues stood in niches: St Francis in whose honour the church was named, the Sacred Heart, a crowned Madonna in a gilded blue robe. A vast painting of the crucifixion hung high behind the marble altar where the golden-doored tabernacle stood beneath a small dome held up by pillars of red marble. This church was every bit as beautiful as her father had said.

Her prayers finished, Aunty Mary slipped her rosary beads into her handbag and nodded at Kate. They moved into the main aisle and, facing the altar, genuflected. Their foreheads still damp from the holy water they had blessed themselves with as they left, they walked through the church gate and out into the hurry and rush of the city of Melbourne.

Kate craned her neck, staring up at the buildings, barely noticing as they turned into Elizabeth Street. The clock in the Post Office tower ahead of them chimed the half-hour.

‘Stop it, Katie, everyone will be thinking you’re just down from the country.’

‘Well, I am.’ Kate laughed. ‘The city’s so big. And there are so many people.’

The streets were busy—carts, drays and horse-drawn vans; traps and buggies; cable trams and more motor cars than Kate had seen in her whole life. People crowded the footpaths but it was the fashionable women among them, the bright colours of their outfits that caught Kate’s eye: deep blues and dark rose, burnt orange, magenta and jade green. And the hats! Not only the usual broad or narrow brimmed hats trimmed with flowers, feathers, or satin and velvet ribbon, but asymmetrical almost brimless creations with large stiff bows sweeping skyward. And although Kate felt nondescript in her dark skirt, pale blue blouse and modest hat, she knew she was going to love living in Melbourne.

There were soldiers in the streets too. Surely, they were all meant to be in camp training at this time of day. Her heart gave a little leap. Perhaps Jack was somewhere here. Perhaps she would run into him.

‘Just along here,’ Aunty Mary said.

They turned into a narrow street and, a few shops on, Aunty led Kate into a tea room.

A waitress in a smart black gown with a white apron and cap seated them at a table by the window. Once she had taken their order for a pot of tea and cake, Aunty removed her dark gloves and bent forward, sniffing the carnation in the specimen vase at the centre of the table.

‘Ah, they don’t have the scent like those at home.’

‘Do you miss Ireland?’ Kate asked.

‘I did when I first arrived, but rarely now. I’ve spent more than half my life here and it’s here those who mean most to me are.’

The pot of tea and the sugar-sprinkled cake arrived promptly and Aunty poured. She took a small bite of the teacake. ‘Hmmm, not as good as mine.’

Kate laughed softly. ‘Nor Mum’s.’

‘Still, ‘tis a pleasure to be waited on now and again.’ Aunty reached across the table and squeezed Kate’s hand. ‘I am so glad you’re here, my treasure. The house has been empty without the boys.’

She picked up her teacup and sipped.

‘While you are here, would you fancy serving in the shop too?’

‘Ooh yes. I’d love to.’

Kate thrilled at the idea. This last week had been a whirl of so many new things. For the first time in her life, she had travelled alone. But could it really be counted as alone when her mother had arranged it all? At the Maffra railway station, Mum had seated Kate in a carriage with an older couple, almost telling them Kate’s life story, how she was going to Melbourne to stay with her aunt whose two sons had left with the first contingent of the Australian Infantry Force to go and fight the Germans. The woman had talked, almost without drawing breath, as the countryside flew by, giving Kate advice on everything from how to make over an old hat to putting forward young men in their place. She took Kate under her wing, making sure when they arrived at Flinders Street Station that it truly was Aunty Mary she was leaving Kate with.

‘God love them,’ Aunty had said with a laugh when Kate later explained who they were.

‘Will you look at that?’ Aunty Mary nodded out the window as a soldier strolled by, a young woman walking close, her arm through his. ‘Poor lass, she’ll not be leaving hold of him until the boat sails. Just married too, by the glitter of her ring.’ She looked across at Kate. ‘Vincent wanted to marry young Reenie Casey, though to be honest, I think it was more the other way around. You met her Sunday last, after Mass—the girl in the red velvet hat. I told him there was time enough for that when he came back. He gave her a pretty brooch which, despite her smiles, disappointed her. When you marry you need time together, not a few days here and there followed by who knows how many months apart.’

Kate was barely listening caught by the thought that she and Jack could marry before he left.

2

Hemmed in by the crowd, Kate watched as the long column of recruits marched up Sydney Road. Fit looking men from all walks of life. The bulk of them were in their twenties but there were many who were older and some, too, who were smoothed faced and looked barely old enough to wield a razor. Most were dressed in their civilian clothes—office workers in suits and good hats, among them one or two straw boaters. Many more were in their working clothes, not their Sunday best, wearing battered hats, a few with caps, most carrying small suitcases, haversacks, or even swags slung across their shoulders. A handful were already in uniform. Some marched smartly, backs straight and heads erect, others doggedly as if the ten miles from the recruiting office in the city to the training camp at Broadmeadows was a test of endurance. For yet others, it was as if they were off to a picnic, ambling along, gazing at the shops and houses on the roadside, waving to the crowds cheering them on. Among the knots of young women watching, one or two blew kisses. One cheeky fellow broke rank and helped himself to as many kisses as he could before he was hauled back by his mates. A swarm of boys, and a few younger girls, ran beside the marching recruits. There was a thrill in the warm afternoon air, an atmosphere of excitement. This was the greatest adventure of their lives.

A boy rushed past Kate to get onto the road, dragging her string bag down her arm as he went. She pulled it back, thinking she should get back to Aunty’s and get the corned beef and chops she had bought into the ice box before they spoiled in the heat.

She pushed her way through the crowd to Aunty’s shop.

The door was wide open and Aunty’s voice carried out to the street. ‘You’re far too young.’

Gus, the delivery boy, was loading parcels into his basket. He stopped and stood to his full height. ‘Look at me, I’d pass for eighteen.’

‘But you are only sixteen.’

Kate glanced at him as she passed through. He was already well on his way to six foot and, no doubt, if a recruiting officer wanted to believe he was eighteen, he would be. Running the deliveries for Aunty Mary was one of the various jobs Gus had been doing since he was fourteen. Some of them, Aunty suspected, were not quite legal. He had a job on Saturday afternoons he never quite explained with one of the local barbers who was reputed to be an unregistered bookie. Aunty had said to Kate that, with the way Gus had sprung up, she was surprised he hadn’t already found himself a man’s job.

‘Even if you say you are eighteen, you will still need your parents’ permission,’ Aunty finished with the air of someone closing her argument.

Kate walked through to the kitchen. She put the meat in the icebox, washed her hands and, tying on a large blue apron, went back into the shop.

She breathed in, savouring the mixture of scents—spices, pepper, mustard, nutmeg and cinnamon, coffee and cocoa, cured sausages, soaps. It was an Aladdin’s cave of groceries. Cakes and biscuits in square tins; cans of jams and fruit; tins of ham, and fish, and condensed milk filled the shelves that stretched to the ceiling, along with the boxes of soap and of starch, packets of matches and of tea, as well as bottles of vinegar and sauces. A basket of eggs sat on the counter alongside the jars of confectionery. Already Kate knew the items’ places on the neat shelves and their prices too.

She took her place beside Aunty Mary at the counter, a smile ready for the next person to walk in the door, a smile she had no need to force.

Gus was standing by the door. ‘He shot through weeks ago. We don’t know whether he’s enlisted or has gone bush.’ There was a bitterness in his voice. ‘No loss—he was only good for boozing and battering us around.’ He adjusted the basket of deliveries on his hip. ‘Mum will sign the papers. It’s better pay than I get with my delivery rounds, and she’ll get my allotment regular so there’ll be nothing for her to worry about.’

Aunty groaned. ‘Ah, Gus, it’s dreadful it has come to this. I’ll keep you in my prayers.’

‘When I come back,’ Gus grinned broadly, ‘I’ll share a glass of porter with you, Mrs Burke. Celebrate my return.’

‘Away with you, Fergus Aloysius Kelly. And you who took the pledge not to drink alcohol only two years ago when you were Confirmed.’

With a wink at Kate, Gus left the shop whistling. He had a swagger beyond his years.

Aunty turned to Kate. ‘Old Bridie Johnson was in earlier and had me get down one of every tin of fruit on the shelf. And the questions! This pineapple, is it nice with custard? Do you think I can make a pie with it? Now, will it give me dyspepsia? I’m a martyr to the dyspepsia. And, of course, all she left with was a small bag of lemon drops.’

Kate grinned. Aunty’s imitation had Mrs Johnson to a T.

Aunty pointed to the bare spaces on the shelf, halfway up the wall. ‘Would you mind putting them back for me?’

She stood back as Kate climbed the ladder. ‘Brendan used to do the climbing for me. I’m getting too old for it all.’ She turned away. ‘Ah, Mr McGregor. Do you have a fine bundle of letters for me today?’

‘Only two, I’m afraid Mrs Burke. One for you and one for a Miss Catherine Burke, care of you.’

Kate now stood beside her aunt.

‘And this would be Miss Catherine Burke?’ The postman, a short red-faced man who fitted his uniform a little too well, cast his eye over Kate. ‘And isn’t she the picture of what you must have been in your youth?’

‘Now, is that very likely,’ Aunty said without smiling, ‘with Kate being the daughter of my Michael’s brother? She is staying with me for a few months, until the boys come home.’

‘And the sooner that is the better.’ He gave Aunty her letter but kept hold of Kate’s. ‘This one has a Broadmeadows postmark.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘A letter from your sweetheart?’

Kate’s face blazed red. She blinked fast, not wanting to answer.

‘That’s enough, Mr McGregor.’ Aunty, already a tall woman, stood erect and seemed to tower over the postman. ‘Give Kate her letter, she has work to do in the house.’

‘It was only a bit of teasing, Mrs Burke.’ He handed the letter to Kate.

‘Kate’s a young lady from the country, not used to rough city ways.’

‘My apologies. I’d best be on my rounds.’ He tipped his cap and scurried out the door.

Aunty watched him go. ‘There’s no harm in him. He tries to be the charmer—knows the pretty words but lacks the charm himself.’ She turned to face Kate. ‘Now go out the back and read your letter.’

~

The backyard was quiet except for the buzzing of a solitary bee in the pot of lavender outside the washhouse. Kate sat on the wooden bench on the verandah and carefully ran her finger beneath the flap of the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of thin blue paper.

My darling Kate,
It was grand to get your letter. Coburg is only 4 miles away, close enough for me to visit you easily. Knowing you are waiting at the end, I bet I could run it in not much more than 20 minutes.
They are working us hard at marching and drill and all sorts of manoeuvres. I am as tired at the end of the day as when we are reaping at home. They are a good group of blokes here. The tucker is not bad but nowhere near as good as Mum’s. Not sure when we will be going, not too long, I hope.
I managed to get a leave pass for Sunday after Church Parade. Thank your Aunty for the invitation. Would she mind if I brought a mate? He has no family to visit him.
I can barely wait to see you.
With all my love,
Jack.

Scrawled across the bottom of the page were three big Xes.

Kate closed her eyes and put her lips on each of them. How she wished Jack was here with her. To sit beside him holding hands, to rest her head against his shoulder, and those quick kisses… She sighed. This war, she hoped it finished soon so they could get on with living the life they were meant to have.

She read the letter three more times, folded it carefully and placed it in the pocket of her apron.

Back in the shop, she said, ‘Aunty Mary, Jack said to thank you for the invitation, he will be coming on Sunday. He wants to know if he could bring a friend, someone with no family here.’

‘Of course, the young man can come. There is always room for one more at my table.’ Aunty stared at Kate, the hint of a frown on her face. ‘You didn’t say Jack Sheehan was your sweetheart, simply a friend from home. There’s been no mention of him in your mother’s letters.’

‘His family’s farm is next to ours and we’ve known each other all our lives but I’m the only one he dances with these days.’

‘In that case,’ Aunty laughed, ‘you are practically married.’

If only that were true.