Lonely as a Wild Hare

Tadpoles flashing back and forth fuelled my excitement. Boots forgotten, I plunged further into the water. ‘Coming, ready or not, I squealed. Bending over with my jam jar and flicking the loose hair out of my eyes, I spoke fondly to the little critters: ‘Serves you right silly billies, now you’re coming home with me.’

A hand grabbed me and pulled me from behind. Hardly able to see, since my glasses had fallen off, but the man I had heard before. Days earlier I had stood and watched as he spread hot tar on the road with a heavy machine, black smoke puffing from the little chimney; I loved the biting smell. Like a wildcat, he threw me down on the grass and held me rigid: ‘Be quiet or else! In a mad fury, he pulled off my skirt and my drawers and came down on me like a ton weight. He unbuckled his belt, undid his buttons and poked his stick inside my legs, crucifying me with pain. Like a dead thing, I acted, until a twig broke nearby when I tried to rise up.

He fixed me with his piggy eyes: ‘Shame on you, girl. Sticking your arse in the air like that is bloody sick. People around here would run you out of the place if only they knew. But I won’t tell a soul and neither will you. Just remember that or I’ll be back Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he spat on the ground and was gone.

Pulling myself into a sitting position, my glasses and underwear missing, my teeth rattled and legs felt as if they had been scalded. Snot and tears flowed down my jumper. Crawling around I found my glasses and my clothes and somehow managed to put them on again. Then like a little foal, I got to my feet, but couldn’t think what to do. Then I remembered. Uncle Bendy’s place was nearby at the foot of Muckelty Hill.

Like a hare I ran, hoisting up my skirt. I bawled and stumbled in the direction of his house. Gasping for breath and in pain, I saw Uncle Bendy in the workshop as I came up the rise. He placed his pipe on the bench and rubbed his hands on his leather apron.

My hand flew to my mouth, ‘Down by the stream! He-, He,-he hurt my arse. Ran away I did….’

‘On your own, were you? Uncle drew me inside and stroking my hair into a little quiff, away from my forehead. ‘Don’t say another word, you’re safe with me here. I know what happened. Damn and blast to high heaven the one who hurts the innocent.

He kissed me on the forehead. Bendy had glue stain and seasoned timber smells all over him. Often he let me sweep up, always laughing and joking and telling me I was the image of my mother, a dab hand at sorting out the shavings from under his bench. I wiped away a tear.

Footsteps sounded outside. I wanted to hide.

‘Games, Tess, games. Remember the one we played with your cousin, Nula. Remember when you both hid in the boxes? We’ll do it again.

Putting his finger to his lips, he lifted the lid on the coffin on the floor and covered me over with the darkness and crept away like a little leprechaun.

‘Hello, Mister Bendy, a woman’s voice called out from afar. ‘How’s the form?

‘Nothing for you today. Be off with you now. Can’t you see that I’m busy. Scram!

‘Ah! Benedict Casey. You’re terrible hard on us. Just a few little kippin’s then for the fire. Maybe even a bag?

Mamma always told me that travelling people were great at begging or selling anything and she was no exception.

‘Get out!

I heard a door slam.

Giving me a few creamy caramels to suck on the way home, Bendy laughed and said: ‘I’ll call over home later. Read your favourite story, eh?

Never once did he ask me about that horrible man who had done this thing to me, nor about anything else neither. I was glad.

My brother, Drew, was standing at our front door. He pointed to my backside and went all red in the face. He laughed out loud.

I screamed.

Mamma came storming out of the kitchen. ‘What’s going on here?

Her face went purple when she saw me. Into the parlour she pushed me, and with her back up against the door, she talked about the blood. I hopped from one leg to the other and she got even madder. Mamma wrung her hands like she was cold; words fell from her mouth in little bites.

‘Every month girls of your age have a loss of blood. You’ll need to wear a towel. You’ll find them tucked away in a brown paper bag in the airing-press. Away with you now and get fixed up. After you’ve had a good wash get into bed. I’ll be up shortly.

Mixed up about all sorts of things, I fiddled around and changed my clothes. With Maggie, my favourite dolly in bed beside me, I told her my story in great mouthfuls.

Up the stairs came my grandmother, followed by my mother.

I heard a few words: ‘Bendy! He was lost for words.

‘Rest easy, Eileen,’ Granny said to my mother. ‘Probably it was nothing much at all. You must go easy on the girl, the way she is and all that…

Mamma shushed her up. The two of them came to me like actors; ashen faced and in a tizzy. Screwing her eyes up, Mamma touched my forehead: ‘You seem feverish to me. I’ll bring the aspirin. Rest yourself awhile; you look all washed out.

They left me alone and I was more afraid than ever. The air was heavy and strange shadows were about. Nervous of the silence, the secrets, knots and lumps in my gut were choking me. From my birth I was not wise at all about natural things. I could read a little, but at fifteen everyone said that I was fine, just fine. But I had no pals. My sister, Annie, took me to school by the hand and brought my lunch in her school bag. She was my best friend.

For the life of me I couldn’t work out why I grew fat. Mamma took me to the doctor. A big fellow with a pug nose, happy eyes, and hands soft with the Dettol, smiling he showed me to a table at the back of the room and pulled back the sheet.

‘Take your skirt off, Tess. Just lie on the table and cover yourself over with this blanket. Your mother wants me to check you are in the best of health. Sixteenth birthday coming up in May, I understand.’ I nodded.

A story that he told me about his German shepherd dog made me laugh and laugh. That dog should have been in a circus. Mamma put her head around the curtain and he shooed her away. The big man pretended to be silly, taking his listening rope off, he put it around my neck instead, and called me doctor. Then he left me to get dressed, I could hear their voices:

‘The girl’s in the family way. I’m quite certain of that. A holiday by the sea for a few weeks would do her a power of good.’

Between sobs, Mamma talked about God’s will and Jesus. When I stepped up beside her, it was all settled: I was going to the seaside. Heading off home and with her head down, she kept harping on about all the little crosses. Every so often she would stop to catch on to a wall or a nearby windowsill; she was worn out and no longer young. The eight of us children were a mixed lot. Little Tommy had one leg shorter than the other; she hated it when we called him Hoppity or hurt his feelings. Often she had a thumping big headache.

Dorothy Flynn’s name was written on a scrap of paper and Mamma took it out of her bag once or twice on the bus to glance at it and grow silent. When we arrived there was no river only the wild sea and smelly cows. The sloppy mud underfoot reeked of poop. At the gate of the farm I stopped and wanted to go home. Instead, a wild woman came to meet us. She was wearing a crossover apron over her clothes, rubber boots hugged her feet, and her mass of grey hair was done up in a bun. She seemed distracted.

Short of breath, but never of words, Mamma complained. ‘The hill up to the house is fierce, Dot Flynn, but then, nothing is fair. Nothing in life is fair neither.

Dorothy laced her arm with Mamma and invited us. ‘Come on in. I’ll have the kettle hoppin’ on the range in a minute. We can have a sup of tea and something to eat. Both of you must be perished with the cold.

Before you could say, ‘Jack Robinson, they started on a new tack altogether. Dragging up the olden days, céilí dancing, moving pictures and the carnivals in the town square, they were chatting away like old friends. Suddenly the air was tight again. Mamma sipped her tea and grew silent.
‘You can stay here, awhile with me, Tess. I’ll be glad of the company. Dot looked at me kindly. ‘No need to be worried about a thing. I’ll keep you busy and healthy as a young colt. Since poor James died, God rest his soul, I’m stumped for a pair of helping hands. You’ll fit the bill quite nicely, young lady. Your mother is willing for you to stay for a little while on the farm with me.

Mamma got to her feet without another word. For two days I stood by the window and waited, but she never came back.

Work became the rule of the house. My job was carrying buckets a’ swill, cleaning the hen-house and collecting eggs daily from the little wooden boxes in the shed. It was no good complaining.

Dotty Flynn had an old Morris Minor in the big barn at the side of the house. She’d taken lessons for four years, but still hadn’t the gumption to take it out on her own, or so she told me. The old Morris was jet-black in colour; all dusty and silent; blanketed in the corner it was stiff from cold. Stuck in the wilds, I asked myself why nobody was coming to get me. How I wished that I knew how to move that little car.

One day I couldn’t work; not for ninepence. Pains gripped me like a vice and I began yelling and rolling around on the floor. Dot paid no heed. She talked on the phone for ages and me dying with the churning in my stomach. Two white-coated men came and explained I needed help, but I didn’t want to go. Nowhere! Dot came along with me too and tried shutting me up. I screamed at her: ‘You’re not my mother. Leave me alone.

The journey took us to the hospital, where they put me on a wheelie-bed and rushed me inside the building.

‘There’s a baby coming. Just try and do as you’re told, a nurse talked to me in a blunt way. Then she lowered her voice, ‘We’ll do our best, Tess, to make you comfortable. I have some pills here that will help with the pain.

Mamma never talked about rude things; always she said it was women’s business. Screaming I was hiccuping like crazy. White coats were everywhere and I couldn’t get away. Sick and sorry for myself, I tried to stop the pain but it swallowed me whole. Arms! Legs! Sheets! Blankets! Everything went flying. I was dying, but would they listen?

Floods of blood tore me asunder as I felt the storm break on the table. On the bed, like a china doll, there was a real live baby squawking away like a little bird. My legs still twitching, I reached out and touched it. The crying stopped. This doll was real. I cried and cried. I couldn’t stop myself.

Someone handed me the baby. Traces of red hair covered the head. The skin so soft it felt like silk. Pat-patting it gently on the back, I didn’t knowing what else to do.

‘Don’t worry about a thing, Tess. The little fellow will be well taken care of. Now you have a rest and someone else will care for this lovely little scallywag. Your mother’s waiting outside. I’ll ask her to come in. She will explain everything and answer all your questions. The nurse took the child, wrapped him up tight and hurried away.

Like the banshee, I let out a wail that came from somewhere within; it frightened me. Down I threw myself and stumbled over to the door: ‘Coming, ready or not, I screamed and flung open the door.

Mamma and Dot stopped me stone dead in my tracks. In a muddle, I fell on the floor. Mamma, nose dripping, eyes black with mascara and red around the gills, begged me to give over and get back into bed.‘Tess. I’m mortified. I have a mind to murder someone and it’s not Sister O’Connor. None of this should have happened. Soon, very soon, you’ll be coming home with me. You’ve been through hell, but mark my words, this whole business will be sorted out and very soon. I have missed you, child.

Bubbles frothed from each side of her mouth, her nose pumped snot. I did as I was told, but I had no feelings left. Dot put Dolly in beside me, I threw her on the floor. Uncle Bendy came later and read me stories. My father came too, but he said very little. Doped with pills and pushed into a single room by myself, I cried for days.

A week or so later, I was taken home in the car. No one talked about the baby: the little bundle that had been taken from me. I hadn’t a clue where or how I could get him back.

That nurse stole my baby. But that was a long time ago.

Mamma and Uncle Bendy went home to Jesus around the same time, maybe five years ago. I don’t remember too much any more.

I’ll never forget what Dadda did after Mamma took sick and died. He brought me to this place because he hated the crying and didn’t know what else to do. I was to stay here until I got better, or so he said. I’m as lonely as a wild hare, since he dumped me here, early one evening and never came back.

Now and again Annie calls. She brings me things and combs my hair and shows me her jewels, but she leaves without me.

Once I wrote my father and cried all over the paper.

I began:

 Okay that you said that you know for me for this right place.

That I must suffer for this good place, 
that I must obey God for seeing me here, 
that I must do my best in this good place. 
For doing this right place that God knows.
            R.I.P in my place.

First published in: “Climb The Mountain”
Edited by Meryl Brown Tobin & Asther Bascuña Creo.
Prose & Poetry from the Society of Women Writers Victoria Inc 2006
ISBN 0 9579441 4 4.