Page 15 of The Ship of Brides
‘My Johnnie was billeted with my aunt Vi,’ said another girl. ‘I thought he was gorgeous. I sneaked into his room the second night he was there and that was that.’
‘Best to get in early,’ said another, to raucous laughter. ‘Stake your claim.’
‘Especially if Jean’s around.’
Even Jean found that funny.
‘Now, who wants to practise making one of these lovely necklaces?’ Mrs Proffit held up an uneven-looking chain of aluminium coils. ‘I’m sure it’s what the best-dressed ladies are wearing in Europe.’
‘Next week it’ll be how to make couture evening cloaks from horse blankets.’
‘I heard that, Edwina.’ Mrs Proffit placed the necklace carefully on the table.
‘Sorry, Mrs P, but if my Johnnie saw me wearing one of those he wouldn’t know whether to kiss me or check my rear to see if I’d laid an egg.’
There was an explosion of laughter, an outburst of barely suppressed hysteria.
Mrs Proffit sighed and laid down her craftwork. Really! It was only to be expected, as embarkation drew closer – but really! These girls could be so wearying.
‘So, when are you out?’
Jean’s host family were two streets away from the Wentworth, and the girls had ended up walking back together, dawdling. Despite the air of mutual dislike between them, they were reluctant to sit alone in their rooms for yet another evening.
‘Avice? When are your orders for?’
Avice wondered whether to answer truthfully. She was pretty sure that Jean – immature and coarse as she was – was not the kind of girl she would normally want to associate with, especially if what had been said about her condition was true. But neither was Avice a girl used to self-restraint, and the effort involved in keeping quiet for an entire afternoon about her own plans had been a strain. ‘Same as you. Three weeks. What’s she called? TheVictoria?’
‘It’s a bugger, isn’t it?’ Jean lit a cigarette, cupping her hands against the sea breeze. As an afterthought, she offered one to Avice.
Avice wrinkled her nose and declined. ‘What did you say?’
‘It’s a bugger. They get the bloodyQueen Maryand we get the old tin can.’
A car drove past slowly, and two servicemen hung out of the windows, shouting something crude. Jean grinned at them, waving her cigarette, as the car disappeared round the corner.
Avice stood in front of her. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.’
‘Didn’t you hear Mrs Proffit? The one who’s married to the commander?’
Avice shook her head.
Jean laughed humourlessly. ‘I don’t think it’s quite hair salons and first-class cabins for you and me, girl. OurVictoriais a bloody aircraft-carrier.’
Avice stared at the girl for a minute, then smiled. It was the kind of smile she reserved at home for the staff when they did something particularly stupid. ‘I think you must be mistaken, Jean. Ladies don’t travel on aircraft-carriers.’ She pursed her lips, as smoke trickled her way. ‘Besides, there’d be nowhere to put us all.’
‘You really don’t know anything, do you?’
Avice fought back irritation at being addressed in this manner by someone who had to be at least five years younger than herself.
‘They’ve run out of decent transport. They’re going to stick us on anything to get us over there. I reckon they figure whoever really wants to go will put up with whatever they throw our way.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Even old Mrs P seemed a bit concerned. Think she’s worried about her young ladies arriving in England wearing overalls and covered with fuel. Not quite the impression she wants for Australia’s finest.’
‘An aircraft-carrier?’ Avice felt a little wobbly. She reached for a nearby wall and sat down.
Jean seated herself comfortably beside her. ‘That’s what she is. I never bothered to check the name of it. I just assumed... Oh, well, they’ll have modified it a bit, I should think.’
