The Penance Room Page 5

  “What happened next? Why did you fall out with your family?” she asks.

  Martin ignores her and stares off into space. He notices me lurking in the doorway and shifts in his seat.

  “It’s a bit early for you, boy!” he shouts so I move from the door quickly.

  Una and Ellen look up in surprise but they don’t see me and look quizzically at their father. Silence fills the room again as I leave Una and Ellen to watch the clock over Martin’s bed tick slowly. They will only stay an hour.

  As I pass by Penelope and Victoria’s room, I can see Rita standing by their window looking through their photographs. They are standing to attention at the foot of their twin beds.

  “Who is this?” Rita asks as she lifts a photo of the women as small girls standing with a stern-looking woman dressed in black. Even though it is an old black-and-white photo I notice that they are not dressed in the same clothes and I wonder when they started to do this and why.

  “That’s our sweet Nanny Betty,” Penelope replies. Penelope usually does the talking for the two.

  “Oh your nanny, is it? Aren’t we the fancy pants?” Rita sneers.

  I know she is mocking them by the way she is pulling faces and waving her hand around. Penelope looks worried and Victoria is moving nervously from foot to foot.

  I know that my mother has had enough of Rita’s behaviour. I move downstairs quickly and open the door to my mother’s office. I have seen my father say that sound travels well in this old house. I don’t want to be a tell-tale so I am hoping she will hear Rita annoying the sisters. When she appears on the stairwell, I relax and watch with interest as my mother stands behind Rita and listens to her annoying the ladies.

  “That’s enough!” she says angrily.

  Rita spins around and I hide my face to conceal my laughter. I don’t like her. Her face is red and she is spluttering. She tries to explain but only half-words come out and I am shamelessly enjoying her discomfort.

  “I want you out of here now! You don’t have to finish the day. I’ll send your wages on.”

  Rita is trying to decide whether or not to try to explain herself but she decides there is no point and storms off.

  “Will there be a court martial?” Penelope asks excitedly while Victoria stands nervously behind her.

  “That was it, Penelope. I am judge and jury on this base,” my mother jokes but I can see that she is upset by this. She would have liked to have got rid of Rita long before but it is hard to get part-time staff who will fill in at a moment’s notice. It will take her a long time to get someone new and until then she will have to work even longer hours.

  I am still smiling to myself when I look into the lounge room. I notice that Mr Berman is visiting Iren. He has been very good to her since Aron died and tries to visit as often as he can. Even though he is rubbing Iren’s hand his eyes are on Wilfred who is trying his best to look away. Like me, Wilfred has noticed the line of numbers on Iren’s forearm, her identification during her time in the concentration camp.

  Some months ago, while standing in the Penance Room, Rita asked Mr Berman where he was from. When he said he was from Germany, Rita excitedly introduced him to Wilfred, telling him he was a fellow countryman. Mr Berman turned his back on Wilfred and said, “We have nothing in common.”

  I learn a lot from watching and although I am upset about how Mr Berman has suffered, I also feel sorry for Wilfred. He doesn’t fit in anywhere and is alone in the world. Sometimes I feel the same way.

  When Iren suddenly opens her eyes, she starts shouting “Aron, Aron!” She is starting to annoy the other residents and is even annoying Mr Berman. Kora goes to her side and tries to distract her with talk of food but she will have none of it.

  “Aron! Aron!” she repeats.

  Finally Wilfred jumps from his seat under the window where he has been trying to read music sheets that came in the mail and begins to shout. I can feel his voice vibrating off the wooden pews or at least I imagine I can. I have never seen him lose his temper before. He moves swiftly and stands over Iren. Wilfred is over six foot tall and she looks tiny as he bends forward and moves his face menacingly close to hers. She cringes and wraps her arms around herself in fear. I imagine a thousand memories flashing before her confused brain.

  “Shut up! Shut up! He is dead. They are all dead!” he shouts before running from the room.

  My mother comes quickly from her office and follows him but he has shut his door. She puts her ear up against the thin wooden frame. She must hear something. Perhaps he is crying again or listening to sad music on his record player.

  “Wilfred. It’s Emma. Let me in!”

  He doesn’t open the door. My mother’s shoulders droop and her mouth makes a downward shape. I know that she is blowing out air. She doesn’t know what to do to make Wilfred feel better. As she passes the lounge room, Kora is still trying to console Iren who is shouting for Aron.

  I decide I have had enough sadness for one day and walk to the front of the house and watch the heat of the sun rise off the pavement in shimmering rays. I open the fly-screen and look out onto the scorched earth. The lawn is brown and every day my mother listens to the forecast, hoping for rain.

  I slam the screen door as I always do and walk out onto the road. There is no one about. It is almost midday and most people are staying indoors until the hottest part of the day passes but the sun does not bother me. I walk the long way around to avoid the railway tracks and make my way across town.

  I see Maria Moretti coming out of her grandfather’s shop. There is a For Sale sign in the window that was not there the last time I passed and I wonder where Mr Moretti is moving to. Maria crosses the road and stands on the street corner. We are like two gunslingers weighing each other up as she stares at me with huge distrustful brown eyes. I decide that any company is better than none and that I will talk to her even if she is a girl. I cross the road and notice that she is wearing the same white dress and I think that she must like that dress very much. For a moment neither of us speaks. I am not used to talking to girls and I don’t get to mix with other children much. She looks shy and has her head down. She has lovely black shiny hair that has been put into ringlets, some of which have fallen straight and are hanging in her eyes. I can feel my hands begin to sweat as it dawns on me that she might reject me which would be embarrassing. Maria doesn’t seem to have any friends and, if she won’t spend time with me, then I know that I am the least popular boy in the entire town.

  Eventually she points to the spot where her house, which has now been torn down, used to be.

  “I used to live there,” she says simply as if I didn’t know this.

  I know she is almost the same age as me and wonder if there is something wrong with her.

  I nod and wonder when I will tell her that I am deaf. I decide now is as good a time as any. I use my horrible voice and am glad that I cannot hear it. She leans forward trying to hear me. I try to make my voice louder even though I have no way of knowing if I have succeeded.

  “Where do you live now?” I ask.

  She points to her grandfather’s house which is old and looks like it too should be torn down.

  She starts walking and I follow her. I move quickly in front of her in case she is speaking and I cannot read her lips.

  “I am deaf,” I say bravely but she shrugs like this means nothing to her, like she doesn’t mind.

  “You’ll have to look at me when you speak,” I add, feeling even braver.

  “Okay,” she replies as we walk slowly together towards the park.

  Chapter 8

  On Friday morning, a letter from Stéphane Laver falls onto the front mat and shines like a flare in a pitch-black ocean. I stand behind my mother and almost use my voice in excitement when I read that he will arrive on Tuesday afternoon to start interviewing the residents. My mother smiles and nods thoughtfully. She agrees that it is a good idea to give the residents a chance to tell each other what happened to them before
they came to live here. I know a little about the residents’ lives already but I think that if they listen to each other’s stories they will realise how alike their lives have been and that they have a lot in common no matter where they came from or what God they believe in.

  Late that afternoon, Maria comes with me to the house and we sit in my room overlooking the train tracks. We have walked together every day and even though she doesn’t say much, I feel we are becoming good friends. My mother has gone to town to place an advert for a new nurse in the paper. She would be glad to know that I am having a friend over as I have not had anyone here since my accident. I didn’t tell Maria the story about my foot. It seemed enough to tell her about my hearing. Like me, she is unusual and she didn’t ask any questions about what happened to me.

  Yesterday, as we paddled in the pond in the park, I saw her briefly look at my stump and then look away. I could feel small tears of gratitude well in my eyes. I am tired of being different. I am tired of people shouting loudly in my face as if the volume of their voice will make any difference. Maria never shouts at me.

  Tonight is my father’s party and his friend Bill has invited him to his house after work so that Kora and Tina, our part-time nurse, can decorate the Penance Room in peace. I know he will love the idea of the party but that he will act all shocked and bashful when he comes back later and everyone jumps out to surprise him. I ask Maria to stay for the celebration but she says she has to get back to her grandfather as she doesn’t like to leave him alone for too long. She told me that her parents live in Sydney but that she preferred to stay with her pop. They visit every few months but she will never leave Broken Hill to live with them. I am glad to hear this as I don’t plan on leaving here ever and dream that Maria and I may marry when we are fully grown but I would never tell her or anyone else this as there is a part of me that knows it is just a dream, just wishful thinking.

  Aishling is up early and as usual looks briefly through the mail. She has perfected the art of pretending not to care that there is no letter for her. I watch as she shuffles through the bundle like a deck of cards before putting them down quickly. She glances around to check if any of the staff are watching and then looks sadly at the mail and bites her lower lip for a second before going about her work. I once thought of writing to her family and telling them off. I would tell them that she is sorry and that there is nothing else she can do to make it better but I was afraid that I would get into trouble with her. I find that I am not blushing as much around her now that I am friends with Maria but she is still my favourite nurse.

  When the decorations are finished, Kora accidentally bursts a balloon with her nail. Everyone except me jumps with fright, even Maria who, like Mina, doesn’t like loud noises. Kora fusses with her dress and Aishling and Tina give each other a look I don’t understand. My Aunt Kora seems nervous. I have noticed her looking in the mirror twice and smoothing down her curly dark hair which is perfect and doesn’t need fixing.

  When Bill finally arrives with my father, everyone shouts “Surprise!” and he pretends to look shocked. They both smell heavily of beer and I notice Kora frowning at my mother who is not complaining. She knows my father deserves a little enjoyment.

  When Jeff arrives, he stands shyly in the doorway and doesn’t know where to put himself. He sits beside his father who is already grumbling at him. My mother offers him a drink but he reminds her he doesn’t drink and, despite the heat, asks for a coffee.

  “Sissy,” his father says and my mother glares at him with angry green eyes.

  Wilfred has got dressed up for the occasion. He has not adjusted to the casualness of Australian life and sits sweating in a heavy suit and tie at the far side of the room. He is wearing black leather shoes and is swinging his leg slowly to music that would not normally be to his taste. I have noticed that he always sits alone and I know that if anyone except my father were to come and sit close to him, he would stand and find a seat at the other side of the room.

  Mina is wearing a blue floral dress that suits her bright blue eyes and silver hair. She loves parties and although the music sometimes makes her sad, she likes reminiscing about her dancing days.

  Li has finished cooking all of the food and jokes with my father that she has cooked haggis for him which he hates. She goes upstairs to get dressed in Aishling’s room. Her husband, Jin, has already arrived and she has warned him not to sit beside Jimmy who thinks that Asians have come to take Australian jobs or Mina who will think that he is a Japanese soldier. Jin looks around the room and chooses to sit beside Aishling who his wife has told him is nice and will not think he is anything except Li’s husband. Father Hayes is seated on the other side of Aishling. He leans forward and asks her a question and I notice her eyes brighten. He doesn’t speak often.

  “Andy?” says Aishling.

  My father looks over and nods.

  “Father Francis just asked if the nice Scottish man would play a Gaelic tune for him.”

  My father’s eyes widen. It is unusual for Father Hayes to refer to other people or to take notice of where they are from.

  “I certainly will, Father,” he replies.

  Nobody except Aishling and Kora call Mr Hayes “Father” and I know my father is showing the priest respect by doing so.

  Martin has seated himself as close to the whiskey as he can and I am already worried that he will see a lot of ghosts and keep everyone awake later. Iren is sitting beside Jana who is the only person who will not get annoyed with her. I feel my eyes light up when Tina wheels Catherine up from the babies’ room to listen to the music.

  “She wanted to come up. The radio has given her a new lease of life,” Tina says.

  Bill picks up his guitar and starts strumming. He is a policeman in town. He loves to tell jokes and loves beer even more and, though my mother likes him, she says she’d hate to rely on him to save her from anything. I find myself a wooden chair in the corner of the room and place my bare feet on the ground, feeling the vibrations moving up through me. Penelope and Victoria get up and dance together in the space my father had cleared in the centre of the Penance Room. We all clap to encourage them; it is unusual to see them so carefree. I think of Maria and wish she had waited for even one dance with me. I have never danced with a girl except my mother and Aishling when I was younger and not liable to blush so easily. I picture Maria sitting in silence with her grandfather at the back of the small shop that is now for sale and briefly wonder where in Broken Hill they are moving to. I hope it will not be so far that I cannot walk. When my father takes his fiddle out, I see Bill put whiskey in the punch that the women are drinking. It is no wonder that Penelope and Victoria are dancing. They are drunk. Bill is in his usual funny mood and winks jokingly at Penelope who puts her hand to her cameo brooch and says “Oh my!”, sending him into fits of laughter.

  My father asks Father Hayes for requests and immediately launches into the “The Mountains of Mourne” followed by “I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen” but my father replaces “Kathleen” with “Deirdre” who we realise was someone Father Hayes loved before he became a priest and who he still thinks of. Aishling sings “Will You Go, Lassie, Go?” which I think is a song about dogs. I don’t like dogs but my father, who joins in the chorus, seems to enjoy it. At the end of the song, Penelope says loudly, “The Irish make really good servants, you know” to Martin who is sitting beside her. Martin glares at her and my mother swiftly sits herself between them. It is too early for fighting.

  When the noise settles, I watch as everyone turns around to face the back of the room. I wonder what they are looking at. I follow their eyes and find they are listening to a tiny voice singing in the background. Iren is singing a song in her native language. She has never sung at any of the parties before and no one understands why she would suddenly start singing now. Everybody sits completely still as they listen to the song which I assume by their eyes is sad and mournful. I hope it will not ruin the party. I need as much happiness as I c
an get and it is in short supply here. When she finishes singing, Iren opens her eyes and appears surprised by the clapping. It is as though she doesn’t realise she was singing.

  My father, who was spellbound by her voice, asks what the name of the song is.

  She understands and leans forward. “‘Szomorú Vasárnap – á Seress’,” she says.

  My father looks at Wilfred to see if he learnt this piece during his musical training.

  He nods but seems reluctant to say anything more. He is looking at his shoes and I can see his throat move quickly.

  Father pushes him until he looks up and quickly says, “It was a poem, then song. ‘Gloomy Sunday’ or also called ‘The Hungarian Suicide Song’. For lost love. For grief.”

  Father looks worriedly at Iren as she sits back into her soft chair. He exchanges a look with my mother. Iren’s eyes glaze over once again as though she had woken only temporarily and is now returning to her sleep.

  Wilfred has brought his violin to the party and as he lifts his bow I dread another slow, depressing song.