Theo had never told this to anyone because all the words got shot out of him by the booming canons in Africa. Those canons made him stone deaf for a good six months. And even though his hearing had come back, he’d had trouble with words ever since. Words came to him slowly, taking their time to form in his mind, and often by the time they were ready to be said he found it was too late, and the words died away before they found life.
Finally the Reverend marched to the entrance of the church like he was the king himself and the congregation began to shuffle out. It was only after Edie turned to help her mother from her seat that Theo was able to force his eyes away from her. He turned to the organ and played out the notes, the music he was supposed to play while the congregation filed out of the church. Theo’s hands kept moving over the notes but he watched over his shoulder as Edith carefully put her hymnal on her seat and filed out after her family into the pleasant midday sunshine.
As soon as she had gone Theo abruptly stopped playing, closed the lid of the organ and quickly walked out of the church. Old Mister Tonkins, who was stacking hymnals back onto the shelves in the foyer and was unable to look anyone in the face because of the perfect stoop of his back, tried to waylay Theo in the vestibule.
‘Lovely playing today, Theo,’ he said, his voice worn to a failing breeze by the years. Theo shook his hand furiously, making Mister Tonkins almost topple on his toes like a wobbly toy, and kept walking instead of asking how he was getting on as he normally would. Mister Tonkins was left reaching for the shelves to steady himself.
Theo squished past the people shaking hands with the Reverend and his wife on the church porch and looked around at the clusters of people standing at the front of the church. Then he saw her. She was standing next to Beth at the other end of the porch and for a moment it looked like she was praying.
He saw the women muttering at her skirt and casting glares at her mother and father for allowing it. He saw the groups of men smiling and saying how much they liked the new fashion — though not for their own wives or sweethearts, of course. Theo watched as Reverend Whitlock, having shaken everyone’s hands, walked past him, and he saw Edie’s father walk up to the Reverend, take his arm and engage him in some obviously serious conversation from the look on Mister Cottingham’s face. It was probably about Edie’s hemline.
Theo smiled; he liked the length of Edie’s skirt. He’d seen skirts that length in Europe, on his way back from Africa. The girl had gumption. He liked that. He felt he had lost all of his. In his head, he’d rehearsed what he was going to say to her. He had spent the week thinking about it. Now he took a deep breath and he was ready.
This time the words would come.
‘The first Sunday of November and it’s a beautiful day, Miss Cottingham, Beth,’ Theo said as he took off his bowler with one hand and pointed to the sky with his cane, as though Edith needed direction to find the sky. He sighed with relief. He had got the words out.
‘It is,’ Edie agreed.
‘Hello Mister Hooley,’ said Beth and she surprised him by giving him a little curtsey as she looked up at him from under her lashes. He’d seen a lot of those looks from women in Africa.
‘What was that for?’ Edie said. ‘You never curtsey, Beth.’ Beth giggled into her hand. Beth was certainly young and pretty and Theo didn’t miss the thunderous look she got from Edie; it made him smile.
‘The Reverend’s sermon was inspiring this morning, don’t you think?’ Theo said.
It was clear to him that Edie didn’t have a clue what Reverend Whitlock had said as she answered, ‘Oh yes, I was taking notes.’ He teased her by waiting for more and seeing he wasn’t going to save her she said cleverly, ‘What do you feel were the main points, Mister Hooley?’
‘Well …’ said Theo.
She was watching him carefully, and he tried frantically to think of something the Reverend had said, to arrange some words in his mind, and as usual they just weren’t coming. ‘His — he, he …’
‘He spoke about the workers’ claims. He said that a man who doesn’t work doesn’t deserve to eat,’ said Beth.
‘Did he indeed?’ said Edie, her temper flaring in an instant. ‘How can he say that from the pulpit? What about those men’s children and wives? What good Christian should suggest that the children of these men go hungry? I believe in protection of our trade which will of course protect the workers, just like my father, just like Alfred Deakin. My father worked hard to have Mister Deakin back as leader of this nation.’
And then he saw the realisation spread across her face; she had been too outspoken, too vehement, too unwomanly. Did she think that maybe he wasn’t a Deakin voter or a protectionist? He saw her face immediately lose all its light and she looked for a moment, just a splinter of a moment that was shorter than a single breath, as though she had lost her entire world. And his heart leapt into the clouds with joy and hope. She cared what he thought of her. He mattered to her. He tried to stop the smile that was forcing its way onto his lips.
Edie looked to Beth in a panic and Beth, a quick girl whose older sisters had taught her all the tricks, clumsily pretended to lose her balance on the edge of the porch and she fell in Edie’s direction and pushed Edie
