Bendigo
Evie had only sent the letter to Raff three days ago, so there was no point worrying any time soon. Just forget about it. She hadn’t exactly poured her heart out, but she had apologised for her outburst and let him know that she believed there was more for them to discuss … if he had a mind for it. She’d invited him to reply … if he pleased. No point beating around the bush. Cutting straight to the bone was the only way. At least with the stretch of some weeks since the day of the trial, she’d had time for clarity. She didn’t scold herself too much for waiting so long to write to him.
Apart from driving down to Ballarat and throwing herself at him, she’d done all she could. He’d either reply or he wouldn’t. At the clunk in her chest, she turned her thoughts away and put herself to practical use in Mrs Kingsley’s little studio. She packed boxes with an assortment of hats—most of them had been destined for the display window at Craig, Williamson—and prepared for her temporary move to Echuca. If it worked out there (another clunk), she would find permanent accommodation in the town and start her life again.
‘I’ll miss you and the studio,’ Evie had said to Mrs Kingsley earlier in the week.
‘So you think you will make a long-term move?’
‘I understand, I do. I’ll miss you too, and so will our customers. The charitable ones, that is. Well, even the not-so-charitable ones,’ Mrs K said. ‘Somewhere else will gain from your marvellous expertise. Promise me you’ll send a few things our way for sale if you can.’
‘I will, Mrs K, I promise.’ Evie took her hands.
‘And Mr Kingsley and I would visit wherever that is, of course.’
‘You’d be very welcome.’
And so it was considered done. Evie had already let her house. The thought of staying in it one more night had given her the shakes, so she was happy for the circumstances to propel her into action. She’d rented it to a young couple who were expecting their first child. They’d move in today, after she departed on the train. It had given her a pang when she met them. Such hope in young people. Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’m not that old … It was just that she might have missed her chance. With Raff.
But this was no time to be a shirker in the event of life. Her life.
The evening before, Evie had been rattling around her tidied house, eager to move. Ann, resigned to her leaving, was supportive and had held her tightly in a hug. Posie had been ambivalent, worried on one hand, happy for new opportunities on the other. Both would write, both would visit. ‘We certainly will,’ they’d said.
Perhaps one day they might, Evie thought, but they too had lives to lead. Perhaps children in their futures.
Mrs Kingsley sailed into the room. ‘I think that’s the lot for now. Oh my, two big trunks. Well, ladies do need hats.’ She glided a hand over Evie’s large hat box. ‘And this is the ivory gauze and the beautiful peony shades, isn’t it? A spectacular creation. Do look after it. You’ll have to have an event to show it off. Thank goodness the depression is just about done and dusted. Perhaps some visiting clients from the city will be able to purchase it.’
Evie smiled at that. She wouldn’t be selling it; it would be her signature piece, and on show for her events.
Mrs Kingsley held a finger in the air. ‘Now, you make sure to pay a lad to get those big trunks from the station to your boarding house, won’t you? Mr Kingsley and I will help you load up this end, make sure everything’s all right.’
Everything had been all right for some time; clearly whoever had given Edwin his ‘lesson’ had ensured it was a good one. Ann Benton had told Evie only last week that she’d heard the Cooper trio, Edwin, his mother and his sister were packing up and leaving town.
‘You could stay,’ she’d cried.
Evie had shaken her head. Every time she thought of staying, Edwin’s awful menace had her shaking in her boots, looking for shadows where there were none. Things were better now; she would take deep breaths and push the fear of him aside.
Ann’s news had mobilised Mr Kingsley who checked with Mr Campbell. Edwin hadn’t yet paid his due. Ah well. Evie hadn’t had that money to begin with, so she wasn’t missing it, but she could have used it to repay Mr Kingsley’s generosity. Edwin would find himself in hot water if he didn’t pay it, though—and that didn’t bother her in the slightest.
‘I just hope I don’t accidentally bump into him somewhere, Mr Kingsley.’
‘I’m sure you won’t, my dear. I suspect it will be some time before he recovers any mettle.’ His eyes lit up at that.
Mrs Kingsley waved a fan over her brave smile. She seemed to have fared a little better lately, but the fans were still within easy reach wherever she went. Thanking her lucky stars the surges had dropped away somewhat, she’d reported to Evie that she’d still been experiencing some sleepless nights, and some foggy days. For now at least, the rabid flushes of heat and night sweats had eased.
‘And thank goodness for that. Poor Mr Kingsley, but he’s been such a rock. Encouraged me again to visit the doctor,’ Mrs K said. ‘Couldn’t see old Dr Philips, so I got some young fellow. Not sure I liked him. All business, no empathy. He dismissed my symptoms simply as hysteria, things common to women of my age, is what he said. Supercilious upstart. Can’t tell you how low that made me feel, as if I’m ready for the rubbish heap. It’s not like it’s our fault, is it?’ She waved the fan in the air. ‘“I’ll give you hysteria”, is what I said—to myself. I could have picked him up and thrown him out the window. Thank goodness he didn’t prescribe that new treatment some—’ She stopped.
Another heat surge no doubt, Evie thought. Mrs K had gone a bright red.
‘A new treatment, Mrs K? Some hope after all?’ she asked.
‘Not … tried and true, dear,’ Mrs K said. The fan opened and flapped with the energy of previous days. ‘Suffer it, was what I got. I don’t think he could even say “menopause”. That’s what it’s called, you know.’ She leaned towards Evie. ‘Clearly, they don’t know a thing about it.’
‘The doctors?’ Evie was appalled that this might also be her fate, and shocked that so little was known about this common event, still on the horizon for her.
‘Yes, the doctors, or anyone, come to think of it. It’s just put up and shut up, really.’ Mrs K’s mouth turned down.
‘I’ve read that there are a few women entering university now, studying medicine.’ Evie slipped that in as Mrs Kingsley took a breath. ‘A woman in Sydney, for one, was the first in about 1885, I believe. Then there is Doctor Constance Stone and her sisters in Melbourne who—’
‘Yes, yes and the others enrolling not soon enough.’ Mrs Kingsley looked at her. ‘You know a little bit about these women, do you?’
‘Only what I’ve read in the papers. The sisters established a hospital for treating women and children just a couple of years ago, but they might not be interested in this menopause either.’
Mrs Kingsley harrumphed. ‘They will be when they arrive at it themselves.’ She smoothed her beautiful pale silvery blonde hair into place. ‘In the meantime, I’ll make it clear to all and sundry that we women are not frivolous over this change of life thing, or any other blasted change month by month.’ Then she added quickly, ‘Nor are we going mad, although I can understand some believing it of themselves. I’ve felt quite demented at times.’ She pressed Evie’s hand. ‘Not that I’d say that aloud,’ she said, then laughed. ‘Not too often, anyway.’
Evie hadn’t wanted to think about it. Her monthly courses were uncomfortable enough without putting her mind to the next awful phase of her female biology. Or for going mad. Besides, change of life was years off. Years and years. Surely there’d be better help by the time she needed it. Of course there would be … wouldn’t there?
‘Promise me you’ll be careful, my dear Evie,’ Mrs Kingsley continued. ‘Because … well, I can’t always be there to look after you.’ She laughed again, a little self-conscious as tears popped. ‘When I can’t reach my daughters so easily, I … you …’
Oh. Today’s conversation was about more than biology.
‘I promise,’ Evie said and laid a hand on Mrs Kingsley’s arm. ‘And I promise I will always stay in contact.’ The woman had been a staunch ally, a mother figure since Evie’s mother had died.
‘Good, good.’ For a moment, Mrs K blotted her eyes.
Evie squeezed her arm. ‘Your friendship, Mrs Kingsley, your mentoring, has been a gift that’s meant the world to me.’
‘Oh, oh,’ Mrs K said, dabbing with her hanky again. ‘Damn perspiration.’
The subject changed smartly when Mr Kingsley arrived with the cart. It was, with some relief, time to depart the house for the railway station.
There, that awful Miss Thompson of the Pink, fully decked out in frothy, frilly glory had thrown her a cheeky wave. Evie boarded the train without giving her a second glance, waved madly to Mr and Mrs Kingsley, found her seat and settled in.
The train rattled and chugged its way out of Bendigo and in a few short hours, she’d alight at Echuca and find her way to the boarding house she’d contacted. For now, her previous train journey was front and centre of her mind, the time she’d found Raff’s hat, then him as she’d disembarked, how she had travelled with him, bickered with him … fired a rifle. Worried for him. Missed him.
Another dull clunk hit her chest. The future stretched out before her, with no Raff in sight.