The McCaffreys return

The floorboards in the front hallway of Larksrest had a hard, glossy black finish. When no one was around to see her, Tiney still liked to make a running leap in her stockinged feet and glide along the slippery boards. When the doorbell rang on a January afternoon, she slid down the last few metres of hall and opened the door to the youngest McCaffrey brother. It was three years since she’d seen Frank and it took a moment for her to recognise him. He was dressed in civvies: a clean-cut, pin-striped suit, a grey fedora hat and shiny black shoes.

He took off his hat and made a little bow. ‘Hello, Tiney Flynn,’ he said. He glanced down at her stockinged feet. ‘I hope you and your sisters are at home to visitors?’

Tiney remembered Minna once saying, ‘No girl could say no to a McCaffrey,’ and she smiled shyly.

Before the war there had been a McCaffrey brother for three of the Flynn sisters. Tiney used to count them off on her fingers. Percy for Nette, George for Minna, and Frank for Thea. Mrs McCaffrey had fretted that the Flynn girls would steal all her sons. In the end, it wasn’t the Flynn girls who stole her boys away from her but the war.

‘When did you get home?’ asked Tiney. ‘Me and Nette, we’ve been watching out for you and George at the Cheer-Up Hut.’

‘We’re here for you to cheer us up right now,’ said Frank. ‘Got home three days ago. Me and George both.’

That’s when Tiney realised Frank wasn’t alone. Standing at the bottom of the front steps was Frank’s older brother, George. How had she not noticed him? He was still in uniform, as if he had come straight from the barracks, as if he would always be a soldier.

‘Hello there, Bubs,’ he said, climbing the steps. ‘I’d like to say you’ve grown since I saw you last but you’re still a little squirt, aren’t you?’

‘Actually, I’m seventeen,’ she said.

George simply stared at her. Tiney wished she’d kept her shoes on. She felt twelve years old again, looking up into George McCaffrey’s blue, blue eyes. They seemed bigger and glassier than she remembered. There was something hypnotic about George.

‘Any of your sisters at home?’ he asked, at last.

‘A couple,’ she said, unable to look away from George’s face. ‘Minna! Thea! Guess who’s here?’

Minna came up behind her, shielding her eyes against the light.

‘George and Frank,’ said Minna, almost as though she were disappointed.

‘Don’t leave our guests standing on the doorstep like a pair of travelling salesmen,’ said Thea, hurrying up the hallway. ‘It’s good to see you home.’

They led the McCaffreys into the parlour where Mama was sitting on the sofa. She laid her embroidery hoop to one side and stood to greet the boys.

‘Welcome, Francis and George,’ she said stiffly. ‘Your mother must be so happy to have you home.’ There was something brittle, too composed, about Mama’s politeness, as if the presence of young men in the parlour made Louis’ absence more painful than ever.

Thea brought tea and slices of seed cake and set the tray on the sideboard, and Tiney helped serve the guests.

George kept fiddling with his cup, lifting it up, putting it back on the saucer, switching hands, as if he couldn’t decide how best to hold it. When he wasn’t fiddling, just holding the cup, it rattled slightly. Tiney couldn’t understand why his hands were trembling. How could George, smooth, handsome George, possibly be nervous?

Before the McCaffrey boys went away, George had been the one that everyone secretly loved. Poor, dead Percy had been tall and kind but George had been dashing, while Frank was forever in his older brothers’ shadows, waiting to be noticed. Tiney liked him for that, the way he was always good-humoured though he was often overlooked.

‘And now that you’re home, what are your plans?’ asked Mama politely.

‘Oh Ma, they’re only just off the boat,’ said Minna. ‘They shouldn’t have to know the answer to that question.’

George shrugged. ‘I’ll take whatever I’m offered. If anyone will have me.’

‘Of course everyone will have you,’ said Mama. ‘Everyone wants our boys to get straight back to work, in good jobs.’

‘I’m going to try for the civil service,’ said Frank, running his fingers around his hat.

Tiney felt confused, as if they had all walked through a mirror where everything was backwards. Frank seemed so much more at ease than before, while George’s gaze flicked back and forth across the room from Minna to Thea to Tiney, as if he were trying to remember who they were exactly. Then he turned his focus on Minna.

‘Oi there, Minna, you fancy coming to the pictures with me?’ he asked, as if they were alone in the room.

Minna smiled, a tiny curve of her lips, but she looked to Thea, not George. ‘Frank should come along too. And Thea,’ she said. ‘We could make it doubles.’

Thea raised her eyebrows. ‘We should take Tiney as well.’

‘Righto,’ said Minna. ‘That would be fun, wouldn’t it? Your very own gang of Cheer-Up girls.’

George blinked, visibly annoyed. He slapped his hand against his knee and looked at the floor. ‘If you must, bring the whole damn family. Whole bloody lot of you.’

‘George,’ said Frank, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder and glancing at Mama apologetically.

‘Nette could join you as a chaperone,’ said Mama, as if she hadn’t noticed George’s rudeness. ‘Her fiancé, Ray Staunton, is due home any day now.’

‘Nette’s getting hitched?’ said George. ‘Got over Percy pretty quickly, didn’t she?’

There was another awkward silence.

‘We were sorry to hear about Louis,’ said Frank. ‘He was a great bloke.’

Mama nodded, as if she could not speak another word. But Minna turned and gazed at Frank with gratitude. ‘Thank you, Frank. We miss Percy too.’

On the evening of their trip to the picture show, Tiney stood in the bedroom buttoning her summer coat. It was really too warm to wear it but she didn’t want Frank to think she was under-dressed in her simple black cotton dress. She scowled at her reflection as she stood beside Minna in front of the mirror. Minna looked stunning in a very simple smoke-grey dress with a white collar. Tiney noticed its hem fell only just below her knees, revealing Minna’s beautifully turned ankles.

‘Aren’t you going to wear a coat?’ asked Tiney.

‘I’ve a shawl,’ said Minna. ‘Let’s not fuss. It’s only the pictures. No one can see us in the dark anyway.’

‘Papa says we shouldn’t be going at all. He’s worried we’ll catch the Spanish Influenza.’

‘Papa loves to worry. There are no cases in Adelaide yet and the Health Department says they won’t close the picture palaces as long as they’re disinfected every morning, so it must be safe. I think Papa’s more worried about the McCaffrey brothers than the flu epidemic. He’d refuse permission if it weren’t for the fact they’ve just come back from the war. You have to admit, George is a little frightening.’

‘The epidemic frightens me a lot more than George McCaffrey. This morning’s paper says millions of people are dying from it all around the world.’

‘Stop it, Tiney!’ said Minna. ‘After all these years of worrying about the war do we have to talk about more death and destruction?’

At that moment, Nette and Ida burst into the room and flung themselves on the bed, laughing.

‘Are you chaperoning us too?’ asked Tiney.

‘Absolutely,’ said Ida. ‘Keeping an eye on you lot is too much responsibility for poor little Nette.’

‘I can’t imagine George will like us so thoroughly outnumbering him,’ said Minna.

‘He should be grateful to have five gorgeous women in his company,’ said Ida. ‘And doesn’t Minna look exquisite! I’m so glad to see you’ve given up on black. The prices being charged for it are ridiculous and besides, Adelaide has been awash with women in mourning for far too long.’

Then Ida caught Tiney’s look of disappointment, as she pulled the collar of her coat higher to disguise her black dress. ‘I didn’t mean you, Tiney. You look like a lovely French schoolgirl, not a drab widow.’

When the doorbell rang, the girls hurried into the hall. It felt odd outnumbering the boys. But then that was how it was going to be from now on, thought Tiney, two girls for every boy. Nette and Ida each held Tiney’s hands and hung back so that George offered his arm to Minna while Frank escorted Thea.

‘Why are we bringing up the rear?’ asked Tiney, wishing the men could have a girl on each arm.

‘Because it’s the right thing to do,’ said Nette. ‘Ray will be home soon. I don’t need to be on any boy’s arm. And you’re still too young to even be thinking about having a beau.’

Tiney thought briefly of the soldier on Armistice Day who had tried to kiss her, and smiled to herself. Then a terrible thought gripped her. What if that was as close to a kiss as she’d ever get? What if the man who was destined to love her was lying dead beneath the cold mud of France or Belgium or beneath the cliffs at Gallipoli?

‘As for me,’ said Ida, interrupting Tiney’s thoughts, ‘I’m holding out for a dashing European or a charming member of the English gentry.’

‘When are you going over to France?’ asked Tiney.

‘We’ve had to put our plans on hold until the flu epidemic eases,’ said Ida. ‘People are dying like flies in England and there are so many ships in quarantine that we can’t leave. It seems we’ll be waiting forever.’

‘Not forever,’ said Tiney. ‘Who knows? Maybe by the time the flu epidemic has passed, we’ll be going too.’

Ida glanced at her, bemused, and Tiney realised Nette must have told her of Tiney’s impossible dream.

They climbed off the tram at the corner of North Terrace and then sauntered along Peel Street and into Hindley Street. The Wondergraph was lit up with a thousand electric lights. Frank said it was the most opulent picture palace in the whole country, and Tiney could believe it. George and Frank bought tickets while the girls stood together in the bright foyer.

It was strangely empty inside the theatre. It smelt so strongly of disinfectant that Tiney’s eyes stung. Hundreds of seats were vacant. Some people were wearing cloth masks over their mouths and when a man sitting in the front row coughed into his handkerchief, the people next to him stood up and changed seats. Then the orchestra struck up the overture and the lights dimmed.

There were two short films before the opening credits of the main feature. A line of beautiful young women danced across the screen and then threw off their gowns to reveal close-fitting bathing suits and bare arms and legs.

Tiney leaned over and whispered into Nette’s ear. ‘I thought we were going to see Charlie Chaplin!’

‘That’s showing at the Pavilion,’ said Nette. ‘George insisted we see this instead. He’s mad about Mack Sennet’s movies.’

Tiney knew Papa wouldn’t be happy about George’s choice. The movie was called Ladies First but there was nothing polite about the way the actors behaved. Bathing beauties danced on beaches, handsome men in tailored suits lounged in bars admiring bare-shouldered women in satin gowns in a world far removed from the quiet of Larksrest.

Suddenly, Minna laughed aloud and Tiney saw her lean forward in her seat. A curl of hair lay dark against her white neck and her face looked so beautiful in profile, so much lovelier than any of the women on the silver screen, that Tiney smiled. In the same instant, she felt a flicker of unease. She wasn’t the only one admiring Minna in the half-light. George was gazing at her too, his pale eyes strangely empty in the flickering light from the screen. He slipped one arm around the back of Minna’s seat but then caught sight of Tiney watching him, scowled and withdrew it.

Tiney was glad when the film was over and they could escape the theatre and breathe the warm evening air outside. Soldiers wandered the city streets, some with laughing women on their arms, some alone. One stood on the corner of Rundle and King William Street, singing ‘On the Road to Gundagai’ with his slouch hat held out in front of him. Tiney felt embarrassed when she realised he was supporting himself with a crutch. It was less than three months since the war had ended. How could a war hero have to sing for his supper? Frank stopped and took a shilling out of his pocket and put it in the busker’s hat. Then he took his hat off, as if in solidarity.

‘Thanks, cobber,’ said the soldier.

The five girls walked slowly to the tramstop while George strode ahead. Tiney glanced back. Frank and the singing soldier had their heads inclined towards each other, their faces sombre. In the gold and orange glow of the streetlight Frank’s hair shone like copper. Tiney had never noticed how handsome he was before.

When Frank caught up with them he began to apologise.

‘There’s nothing to apologise for,’ said Minna, resting her hand lightly on his arm.

‘He was a good bloke, that soldier. He fought at Bullecourt but spent the last year in Blighty, in an English hospital. Poor fellow lost his leg but now he’s having trouble getting a pension. They reckon he’s able-bodied and should be working.’

George laughed, that dry, angry bark that Tiney had noticed when he’d come to visit them at Larkspur. ‘There are plenty of stronger men who can’t find employment. He’s better off on the street.’

‘George,’ said Nette, ‘my Ray has taken up land at Cobdolga with the soldier settlement scheme. You should look into it.’

George looked at Nette darkly. ‘Your Ray is a mug. Percy would never have signed up for that rort.’

Nette blanched. She had wept every night for months after Percy died at Gallipoli, and no one spoke his name in front of her any more. Frank stepped between his brother and Nette, and Tiney looked for the lights of the tram, as if for a ray of hope in the darkness.