‘Onward Christian soldiers,’ sang Edie.
Edie sat in the hard pew, bored senseless by the monotone preaching of weedy Reverend Whitlock, whose high-pitched voice sounded like a child whining for a treat. His sentences were shrill but he always dipped on the last two words, which he drew out like a Gregorian chant. She shifted her weight from side to side and looked about for a distraction to occupy her mind for the next three-quarters of an hour. A good Baptist sermon has three main points and lasts for twenty minutes exactly, but Reverend Whitlock was a man who liked the sound of his own voice and rambled off his points regularly. As far as Edie could tell his main point was always a warning to the young women to stay away from the miners whose hands were so used to the dark they could find their way to any secret place. Many of the miners had wives and kids back home in Ireland that they forgot to mention to the single young ladies in town.
Theo was sitting up the front of the church at the organ he’d played every Sunday since he returned from Africa. Edie could only see the back of his head, his hair smooth and shiny with oil. She watched him for a while, willing him to look at her, but he didn’t, and soon even the back of Theo’s head lost its appeal and she turned and watched her mother. She studied the wrinkles around her mother’s eyes and began to notice that Lucy was slumped in her seat, whereas normally she sat straight and dignified. Her eyes were puffy and dark and she’d definitely put on weight, and when Edie really thought about it she couldn’t remember the last time she had heard her mother singing.
Edie wondered why she hadn’t noticed all this before, why she hadn’t worried more about her mother spending so much time in her room. Edie felt she should have realised sooner and prescribed some remedy. She was a bit of a whiz when it came to medical knowledge, you could learn a lot from reading the advertisements in the local papers. If she hadn’t thought of her plan, and hadn’t written in her notebook that she was going to marry Theo, she might have learnt nursing, though her father would never permit it. Paul thought work was something only the poor did, or rich men like him did for a hobby so they didn’t get bored with life. Edie knew she would make a darn good nurse. She knew a lot about bodily functions. She knew the Swiss-Italians in nearby Hepburn pined for feathers of crisp snow during the Australian summer heat and that sometimes in the middle of January they sweated until they hadn’t an ounce of moisture left in their shrivelled bodies and lay down on their cane divans on their verandahs and died of ‘nostalgia’. She’d read that in the paper: Mister Pedretti, father of fifteen, died on Monday in Hepburn of Nostalgia.
Edie also knew that for a child’s hacking cough at night Wood’s Peppermint Cure was guaranteed, and for gravel and bladder problems Warner’s Safe Cure was concentrated and would restore complete health within a week. Edie shook her head at her mother’s puffy fingers. Must be her bowel; nearly all health issues, particularly those of women, could be attributed to fermentation in the bowel. She’d get some of Dr Sheldon’s Gin Pills first thing in the morning. They’d fix anything, and better late than never. She wondered at a world that could turn gin into pills, so even those who abstained from alcohol could still reap its medicinal benefits. Of course Lucy’s ill health could be ‘women’s failures’ or ‘the change’ or old age, but either way Gin Pills would be sure to do the trick. Edie took out her notebook and smiled at Missus Hooley sitting just over the aisle, who assumed she was so engrossed in the sermon she was taking notes. Edie opened to a fresh page and wrote:
Fifth November Five
Plan — Heal Mama. Buy Gin Pills from Connell’s Chemist
Satisfied that she’d considered all the possibilities of her mother’s ill health and arrived at a sensible diagnosis and remedy, she glanced towards Theo sitting at the organ and was filled with pangs of an unrecognisable feeling that made her want to leap across the pews and rip Vera Gamble’s hat from her head. The hat was so small it barely constituted a hat. It sat cheekily on the side of Vera’s hair and a few coloured flowers poked out of the band; it was picnics and sunshine in that little hat. Edie looked at Theo again and then back to Vera and back to Theo. There was no doubt he was gazing longingly at Vera Gamble, who sat just a few pews ahead, her curled blonde hair piled on her head in luxurious pillows of softness. A halo of sunlight through the windows touched Vera’s hair with magic, turning it golden and glowing as though it was filled with stars.
Edie’s heart sank as she realised her plan was in ruins.
Three
The Seduction
Under the vigilant eyes of Reverend Whitlock.
Theo turned around on his organ stool. He pretended he was considering the enormity of Reverend Whitlock’s words as he gazed out the stained-glass window. He did that so that no one would realise he was really trying to find Edith Cottingham in the congregation. Finally he spotted her sitting in a pew halfway down. She was on the end and next to her was her mother and then Beth and then her father. When he thought it wouldn’t be obvious, he twisted further around so he could properly take her in. Out the corner of his eye he saw Vera Gamble smile at him and he smiled back to be polite but his gaze was drawn back to Edith.
