‘Did your brothers want to be vets too?’
‘Oh good heavens no. My younger brother’s obsessed with all things mechanical and has been from the age of six, and my older brother’s being groomed to take over the management of the property. Eventually, anyway,’ she added, her face clouding a little. ‘At the moment he’s in Vietnam.’
‘Oh.’ He’d noted her concern and didn’t enquire further, but she volunteered the information anyway.
‘Neil was conscripted,’ she said. ‘His tour of duty’s nearly over though; he’ll be home next month.’
‘That’s good news.’
‘Yes it is.’ She sat back and sipped her champagne. ‘Your turn.’
‘For what?’
‘To talk. What about your background, Frank?’
‘Nothing to tell,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘I doubt you’d find plumbing of interest.’
‘Try me.’ Whether plumbing was of interest or not was immaterial to Kate. It’s the man himself who’s interesting, she thought.
His father was a plumber, he told her, or rather had been, semi-retired now after a recent stroke. ‘Usual scenario,’ he said, ‘kid follows in old man’s footsteps. I didn’t have any other ambition at the time, apart from kicking a footie around, so why not?’
He was going to leave it at that. Frank was obviously a man who preferred to hear the stories of others rather than tell his own, but upon further badgering she learnt that he was actually a master plumber with a degree in education. For the past two years, he’d been teaching an apprenticeship course in plumbing and gas-fitting at Technical College in Melbourne, he said, but since his father’s stroke it had been agreed he’d come home and take over the family business in Redfern.
‘Don’t tell me,’ she said in triumphant recognition, ‘Madigan’s Plumbing Services, Chalmers Street, opposite Prince Alfred Park!’
‘That’s the one. How come you know us?’
‘I walk in the park at least once a week. I’m always passing your shop – it’s most impressive.’
Having intended no more than a routine compliment, Kate was surprised by the eagerness of his response.
‘Oh it is, believe me. My father’s done an amazing job. The shop’s far more than a retail outlet. Dad has three vans that service the city and eastern suburbs and he employs two other plumbers full-time, together with two office staff. That’s not half bad,’ he said boastfully, ‘for a bog-ignorant Irishman with no formal education.’
The change is amazing, she thought, noting how the reticence to talk of himself had disappeared the moment his father came up for discussion. She found his enthusiasm utterly engaging.
‘How’s your dad’s health since the stroke?’ she asked tentatively, hoping not to appear intrusive, but keen to further the conversation.
‘He’s made a good recovery. Not allowed to do the physical stuff these days, doctor’s orders, but he looks after the shop and that keeps him happy enough.’ Frank studied the glass of beer on the table before him; his father’s stroke had radically changed his own life and the plans he’d had to pursue his teaching career. ‘He’ll be even happier with me around to run things though,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘A Christmas visit is somehow never enough.’ He glanced at her, adding hastily as if to correct any possible misunderstanding, ‘Not that he ever complains, but I know how much he’s missed me these past three years.’
‘Do you have any siblings, Frank?’
‘Nope.’ He picked up the glass, ‘I’m all Dad has, all he’s ever had. But then he was all I had throughout my childhood – mother, father, best mate, you name it.’ He swigged back half his beer in one go, wondering why he’d spoken so openly to this girl he’d just met – he rarely did such a thing – but he refused to feel self-conscious. She was a nice girl, he liked her. ‘My father worked his guts out to put me through school and give me the life he’d never had, it’s only right I come home now.’
Kate longed to ask him what had happened to his mother, but she had a feeling this was as far as the interrogation was permitted to go. She was right.
‘Why don’t you introduce me to some of these people?’ he suggested, looking about at the crowd as if it had suddenly and magically re-appeared.
‘Of course.’ She stood with her glass of champagne, ‘bring your beer and we’ll do the rounds.’
They circulated among the gathering, which had turned into quite a party as glasses were re-filled and finger food handed about on trays. Most of those present were eager to meet Frank, whose speech had impressed them, and he and Kate joined in the discussions and arguments that became steadily rowdier and more animated as the day wore on.
By late afternoon things were winding down. Those with families and Saturday-night commitments left, and the several volunteer workers, of whom Kate was one, embarked on the cleaning-up process. But as dusk crept in a hard-core mob remained, volunteers and members of the student brigade for the most part, still in passionate debate. With them, not competing for attention as most were, but observing with avid interest and offering the occasional astute comment, was Frank Madigan.
Finally, at Venner’s suggestion, they adjourned to Bates Milk Bar. ‘I’m bloody starving,’ he loudly declared to the bunch of fifteen or so, ‘and it’s getting bloody freezing.’
Venner was stating the obvious, they all agreed. The finger food having long since been demolished they were hungry, and with the sun gone the night ahead promised to be a bitterly cold one.
‘Not by Melbourne standards,’ Frank commented to Kate as they followed the troops out of the courtyard and across the main road.
Bates Milk Bar on the corner of Campbell Parade and Hall Street was famous. Established in 1951 by hard-working Greek brothers George and Nick Bagiatis, who’d anglicised their name, it operated seven days a week, often late into the night, and was renowned for the best milkshakes and the biggest ‘mixed grills’ in town.
With Venner leading the way, the rowdy group arrived to find they had the place fairly much to themselves. Being the first week in June, there were no beachgoers vying for the wooden booths with their pink Laminex-topped tables and, as it was barely six o’clock, there were not yet many evening diners, just a few diehard regulars who lived in the area.
Jeremy bagged a booth for himself and Isobel at the far end where he had a good view of the main doors. He hoped to catch Kate’s eye as she entered and wave her over, although he was aware that for Isobel’s sake he must keep any invitation to join them as casual and impromptu as possible. His plan was thwarted, however. Leading the troops, as he always did, had proved his downfall. Larry and Sylvia, ever eager to be in the charismatic presence of Venner, slithered in beside him and were quickly joined by others who claimed every available booth nearby.
Damn, Jeremy thought as he watched the place fill up and saw Kate and Frank, the last to arrive, claim the only remaining empty booth down near the main doors. Damn, he should have dawdled and brought up the rear.
Mary and Chris Bates, the Greek brothers’ wives, who were just as hard working as their husbands, scuttled about taking orders and doling out the milk bar’s ever popular ‘choc-malts’ in metal milkshake containers.
‘Are you up for the mixed grill?’ Kate asked. ‘I have to warn you, it’s absolutely enormous.’
‘Then I’m absolutely up for it, I’m ravenous.’
‘Me too.’
They ordered the mixed grill.
Frank checked his watch. ‘I’ll have to eat and run though,’ he said apologetically; he was catching a taxi direct to the airport for his night flight back to Melbourne. ‘Wouldn’t it be better if you joined your friends?’
‘They’re in for the long haul, they’ll still be here when you leave,’ she said. ‘Believe me, I’ll have plenty of people to talk to.’ She smiled. ‘I’m glad for a bit of a breather actually. I’m sure you’ve noticed that as a mob we can be quite exhausting.’
‘Stimulating too: I’ve enjoyed the afternoon’s conversations. You’re a lively bunch all right.’
‘When do you settle back in Sydney, Frank?’
‘About a month I’d say. I’ve been pretty well established in Melbourne for the past three years and with everything put on hold for the last couple of months’ campaigning there’s a lot to tie up. I’ll take my time with the move, but there’s no rush – the old man has a good manager who can hold the fort.’
‘I’ll bet your dad’s counting the days,’ she said.
‘Yeah, I’d put money on that all right.’
As he smiled his easy smile, Kate felt a vague sense of relief that her affair with Jeremy was over. Frank had shown no particular sign of interest, he’d made no suggestion they meet upon his return, but it pleased her now to be unattached. She was not seeking a relationship, on the contrary she was revelling in her current single state, but she would like to get to know this man. Just as a friend.
From where he sat at the rear of the milk bar, Jeremy could see Kate’s reflection in one of the mirrors that lined the walls. The mirrors, with scenes of the beach and of bathers etched into the glass, were a feature at Bates of which the brothers were justifiably proud. He was unable to see Frank, who was masked by the booth in which the two were sitting, but Kate, facing towards him, was clearly visible and he couldn’t help but note the avid attention she was paying to her companion.
She’s not interested in the bloke, surely, he thought with a stab of jealousy. She can’t be! Doesn’t she know about Frank Madigan? Isn’t she aware of the man’s background?
Jeremy knew he was being unreasonable, that he had no hold over Kate and that their affair was over, but he couldn’t help wanting her back, and he couldn’t help hating the thought of someone else having her. Frank Madigan in particular was quite out of the question. I’ll tell her about him, he decided. Yes easily solved, that’ll put the kybosh on things . . .
‘Four mixed grills.’
His attention was diverted as huge plates of food were plonked one by one onto the Laminex-topped table. The kitchen was churning out mixed grills at an alarming rate.
‘My God,’ Frank said, gazing down at his own chop, steak, bacon, sausage and lambs fry topped with a fried egg, ‘you were right.’
‘I did warn you.’
He ate every skerrick and Kate, who’d always possessed a healthy appetite, very nearly matched him.
‘I don’t suppose you want my sausage,’ she asked, finally forced to admit defeat, but he shook his head.
‘Sorry, you’re on your own there.’
A half an hour later, Frank bade her goodbye and having paid his bill was about to steal quietly away, but Kate decided his departure should not go unnoticed.
‘Frank’s leaving everyone,’ she announced crossing to the booths where the others were sitting, ‘he has to fly back to Melbourne tonight.’
Venner immediately rose to his feet, those with him also standing to make way as he edged out of the crowded booth. He strode forwards and shook Frank’s hand. ‘Good on you for coming, Frank,’ he said, ‘it was a bloody great speech,’ and as he initiated a round of applause the others readily joined in.
‘Yeah, well done . . .’
‘Good to meet you, Frank . . .’
‘All the best mate . . .’
The several regular elderly diners, who’d anticipated a peaceful early meal, traded dark looks. By now they’d had quite enough of this youthful gang that had invaded their territory.
Frank gave a wave to everyone and sloped out into the evening. So much for a quiet exit.
Jeremy returned to his seat, watching as Kate joined two other students in a booth that was half empty. So Frank’s going back to Melbourne, he thought, relieved. Good, that was that, problem averted.
‘W
e’re married.’
Seated at the little round dining table in the little house in Campbell Street, Kate froze, coffee mug mid-air, and stared disbelievingly at her brother. ‘You’re what?’ she said, knowing she sounded stupid, but too dumbfounded to react otherwise.
‘It was a very respectable ceremony,’ he assured her, ‘at the Catholic Church in Gia Long Boulevard right in the heart of town, a most reputable –’
‘But you’re not a Catholic.’ Again she knew her comment was inane.
Neil laughed – an involuntary reaction: he didn’t intend to trivialise the moment – but he’d never seen his sister at such a loss for words. It’s to be expected, he supposed. She’d listened with infinite patience and understanding as he’d told her all about Nguyen Thi Yen and their love affair.
‘Yes,’ she’d said apparently unsurprised by the news, ‘I gathered from the hints in your letters that there was a girl involved.’
The bombshell of his marriage was a different matter altogether.
‘How can you be married in a Catholic church if you’re not a Catholic?’ Kate asked, feeling utterly foolish. There were a dozen or more questions of far greater importance she could have offered up, but in her state of stupefaction it was the first thing that came out.
‘The priest who married us was Vietnamese,’ Neil explained, ‘he’s a friend of Yen’s family. He asked me if I was a Catholic, I said yes and he believed me, or rather he pretended to. The fact that I donated a sizeable sum to the church probably expedited matters. Although to give the man credit, I don’t think the transaction was purely mercenary. I think he agreed to marry us so that Yen would have a marriage certificate, allowing me to bring her back to Australia and a better life. With three daughters and no son to help support the family her father’s pretty poor.’
‘But . . . but . . .’ Kate was astounded by her brother’s calm, matter-of-fact delivery and found herself stammering as she sought answers to the myriad questions that assailed her. The ramifications of Neil’s action were huge, the obstacles surely insurmountable. ‘But what about the war, Neil? You won’t be able to bring her home, they won’t let you.’
‘I don’t intend to bring her home, not yet anyway. Not until the war’s over.’
‘So you’ll live apart until then?’
‘No. I’m going back to Vietnam.’
‘But you’ve served your tour. They won’t let you go back.’
‘They will if I’m in the regular army.’ Another bombshell, she realised. ‘I’m joining up.’
She stared wordlessly at him. You’re volunteering to fight in this hideous war, a voice in her brain screamed, you’re risking your life to return to a battle zone, and all because of a girl?!