Sweet Adversity Page 2

  Addie untangled the tiara’s arms from her hair and waited in silence, the circlet on her lap. High on the wall to her left hung a round clock. The second hand tick-ticked its way around the clock face several times. She studied the row of squashed-nosed carved gargoyle faces edging Matron’s desk. Each was uglier than the next with its sightless eyes.

  Matron’s hated bamboo cane, Stinging Bessie, hung from a hook on the wall in reaching distance. It rarely came down now the older boys had left the orphanage.

  Matron Maddock took off her tortoiseshell-framed spectacles, laid down her pen and screwed up her nose. ‘What’s that smell?’

  Addie glanced at the green-yellow streaks across her Juliet gown.

  Matron shook her head in disgust. ‘You’ve been down in the paddock again, Adversity. Why?’

  ‘Umm . . . I was . . . milking the cows, Matron.’

  ‘Milking the cows?’ Matron frowned. ‘That’s the gardener’s job, not yours. I presume you haven’t done your chores this morning.’ She huffed, then leaned to pull a brown envelope from a lower drawer. ‘A letter arrived for you, Adversity.’

  ‘A letter for me?’ Hope filled Addie’s chest. Her long-lost relatives had finally found her. She’d have a family of her own again.

  ‘I’ve already opened it,’ Matron said. ‘It will change your future, and mine.’

  Addie’s heart faltered. Dread shifted deep in her core and her hand trembled as she unfolded the paper. The State Government Department for Children had been typed across the top. A signature was scrawled at the bottom in blue ink. She scanned the letter’s content. Its words jumbled in her head.

  Adversity Isabel McAllister, age 12 . . . abandoned by parents at the Emu Swamp Children’s Home . . . Following their unfortunate deaths . . . no other living relatives found . . . therefore guardianship of Adversity McAllister is hereby granted to Matron Moira Maddock, Manageress, Emu Swamp Children’s Home.

  Addie thrust the letter back at Matron. ‘My parents didn’t abandon me. That’s a lie.’

  ‘It’s what happens when economic disaster cripples the world. They’re calling it the Great Depression. Count yourself lucky you’re not one of those starving, homeless children on Sydney’s back streets. At least our garden, orchard and cows provide enough food – except when you children eat me out of house and home. You’re like a plague of grasshoppers.’

  A plague of grasshoppers? Addie snorted to herself. There’d be plenty of food for everyone if Matron didn’t sell their freshest vegetables and creamiest cows’ milk to the shopkeeper in Emu Swamp.

  If her father was here, his booming theatre voice would blast Matron with thundering Shakespearean insults, scaring the bloomers off her. Then he’d take Addie home.

  Matron fluttered the letter in the air. ‘I’ve let you continue staying here for free, purely out of the goodness of my heart.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘But you’re nearly thirteen. Girls your age have jobs as housemaids in hotels, or looking after rich people’s children. Hard physical work never hurt anyone.’

  Addie frowned. Her parents would never approve of her leaving school to work in a hotel. Deep in her chest, grief coiled and squeezed. Her mother and father would never decide her future. She was on her own.

  ‘You’re the eldest child here now, Adversity, and the young ones follow your lead. Imagine the mayhem if nobody cared about rules? That’s why I can’t allow a skerrick of disobedience.’ Matron nodded slowly, emphasising her words. ‘You’ve heard the saying, One must be cruel to be kind?’

  Of course Addie knew the quote. It was from Hamlet.

  ‘Actually, it’s I must be cruel, only to be kind,’ she said.

  Matron frowned, and Addie groaned inside. Not thinking before she opened her mouth. Again!

  ‘Stop showing off, Adversity. As I was saying, this is how I run the orphanage. Children must learn how to survive whatever life throws at them.’

  Addie nodded. Best to agree with everything and keep her mouth shut.

  Matron Maddock leaned back in her chair. ‘I applied to become your guardian because you and I share a sad past. When I was the same age as you, my family died as well.’ Her voice trembled, and her finger followed the curve of the filigree brooch on her shoulder. ‘We came out from England as a family, but when I walked down the ship’s gangplank in Sydney, I was an orphan. An orphan who knew not a soul here.’

  Matron gazed at the crystal vase as if her mind was in another place. Her pale, drawn face shocked Addie. To arrive in a strange country a girl alone, all her family dead. A wave of sympathy swept across Addie’s heart. Maybe that delicate silver brooch had belonged to Matron’s now-dead mother?

  Matron leaned forward, her arms folded on the desk. ‘I had to survive without family. You will too, Adversity, whatever your future holds. I’ll look after you until you get a job. You’ll have extra privileges here as my ward. A lighter workload perhaps? Or I could arrange for you to have your own bedroom instead of sleeping in the dormitory.’

  A bedroom all to herself? None of the orphans had their own room at the orphanage.

  ‘In return, you could help me,’ added Matron. ‘Do your chores every day without complaining; and report to me when children break the rules.’

  Addie shook her head, then caught the wrinkle of annoyance between Matron’s eyebrows. She nodded instead, but beneath the tiara in her lap she crossed her fingers for the lie. She would never tell tales on the others. Her sympathy for Matron vanished.

  ‘Guardianship does sound rather formal, doesn’t it? Think of it as . . . you becoming my daughter.’ Matron’s cherry-red lips parted in a smile that showed neat, pearly teeth. ‘Your parents are dead and it’s time to get on with your life. I’ll find you a job one day so you can earn lots of money. Won’t that be nice?’

  She walked around the desk and smoothed the back of her hand against Addie’s cheek. Just like Mama used to do.

  Stunned, Addie pulled back. Become Matron’s daughter? Never! She scowled at a gargoyle face on the desk.

  Matron sat back in her chair, picked up the government letter and tucked it into its envelope. ‘Well, that’s sorted,’ she said, shooing Addie away like an annoying bush fly. ‘I believe you have washing to hang out?’

  Addie stood on the front porch, her thoughts in turmoil. What did guardianship mean? Could Matron force her to leave school and work in a hotel? Would she insist on Addie calling her Mama?

  No! As long as she lived, she would never accept Matron as her mother. Nobody could replace her mother and father.

  Another rush of grief swept through Addie’s chest. She would never again feel Papa’s strong arms swinging her down from the back of their truck, nor Mama’s kiss on her forehead when she was sick. Nor would she ever get the chance to become an actress; to join them on the stage one day, and to play the role of Lady Macbeth.

  Nothing made sense any more. And the day had started with such promise.

  Chapter 3

  This above all; to thine own self be true

  Inside the laundry, Addie’s eyes adjusted to the dim light. A rumble came from the corner of the low, wooden building, vibrating through the soles of her shoes. She froze, staring at the black metal monster squatting against the wall. It was the hot-water boiler and its chugging and snorting caused alarm to prickle her scalp.

  Addie shook off her apprehension and edged closer. It was a machine, not a monster, even though the orphans called it the Beast in the Boiler, and trembled every time it gurgled and puffed before releasing steam through the safety valve.

  Heat radiated from the tank. A pool of oily water spread across the floorboards, its metallic stink swamping any lingering mildew smells. A cane basket piled with damp towels sat on the floor beside the boiler. She hesitated, then stepped closer to lift the basket to her hip.

  ‘Swarkkkkk!’ In a flash of yellow and grey feathers, Macbeth swooped through the doorway and landed on a drying rack. The basket slipped from Addie’s hip. She caught it just in time.

  ‘Macbeth, you dolt! You half scared me out of my knickers.’

  The bird puffed out his feathers and scratched himself beneath a wing. ‘All the world’s a stage. All the world’s a stage,’ he said.

  Addie laughed. ‘You’d better not annoy Matron with your chatter, or she’ll lock you in a cage!’

  It hadn’t happened yet, even though Matron complained regularly about that bird babbling on too much and annoying decent folk, and how Macbeth shouldn’t be sitting on Addie’s shoulder because it is unhygienic.

  Another rumble came from the boiler and wet heat swamped the air. Addie edged closer to the beast. She needed to check the pressure gauge, but her arms and face tingled with heat.

  The long needle pointer on the gauge’s face wobbled and inched forward . . . towards the red-for-danger section. It wasn’t at the critical point yet, but she had to tell Matron.

  A menacing growl shook the floor. Addie backed away. Macbeth flapped on his perch, his yellow crest feathers flaring with alarm.

  The boiler’s innards gave a strange deep thump, then the tank rattled and groaned, much louder this time.

  Macbeth screeched, and swooped around Addie’s head, flicking his wings at her face again and again, pushing her back from the boiler. Addie dropped the basket and raced back down the ramp, following Macbeth outside.

  A sharp, violent crack ripped the air, rattling her eardrums. Scalding steam spat from the boiler’s safety valve and shot across the laundry with a high-pitched whoosh – right where she’d stood moments before.

  Addie stared, legs shaking and heart racing. Her ears filled with a high-pitched whine.

  Children spilled from the dining room and swarmed around her. Young Jack Roo grabbed her arm, his dark eyes like saucers. Mary rushed from the kitchen, still holding a saucepan. Blobs of porridge and soap suds plopped on the dirt. Her dark eyes glistened with fright and her mouth moved, but Addie heard nothing except the ringing in her ears.

  Matron Maddock trotted along the track, white-faced, and tall and sure-footed in her high heels. In her wake loped Mr Parris, his black suit coat flapping and his patent leather shoes sliding on the gravel.

  Everyone stared at the steam billowing through the laundry door and windows. Finally, as the whooshing faded, Addie’s hearing returned.

  ‘Adversity, what did you do to the boiler?’ Matron’s voice shrilled with anxiety. She pressed a hand against her cream dress’s lacy bodice as if to slow her racing heart.

  ‘I didn’t do anything, Matron. The safety valve must’ve broken.’ Addie shook her head. ‘That blasted boiler nearly burned Macbeth and me.’

  At the mention of his name, the cockatiel flew down to her shoulder.

  ‘Don’t use rough language, child!’ Matron frowned and shook her head, frustration in her voice. ‘I can’t afford to get the boiler repaired. Mr Parris, add it to your jobs.’

  Algernon Parris’s cheeks flared with indignation. ‘I’m an accountant, not the odd-job man!’

  Matron’s gaze fixed on him. ‘Algernon, you’re not a registered accountant, you’re a clerk. You’re also a man. Surely you can use a spanner?’

  ‘Why do I have to do everything in this place?’ Parris frowned and began to chew a fingernail.

  When Matron didn’t react, he scurried away, muttering to himself. Matron watched him disappear around the corner, then clapped her hands at the excited orphans now running around the laundry building.

  ‘Children! Go finish your chores. The doctor arrives tomorrow for his monthly check-ups and I want the place spick-and-span before he gets here.’

  She walked up the ramp to the laundry door, shaking her head and tut-tutting. ‘Adversity by name, adversity by nature. You attract trouble, my girl, no doubt about that.’

  For once, Addie agreed with her. She didn’t look for trouble, but it seemed to be always there, ready to pounce. She hadn’t see this trouble coming, but something had. She reached up to scratch Macbeth’s belly. Somehow, the cockatiel knew the boiler’s steam was about to explode through the safety valve. A bit like birds and kangaroos fleeing a bushfire before humans even smelled smoke. If he hadn’t forced her outside . . .

  Shivers prickled her arms as she imagined the whoosh of scorching water that could’ve burned her skin; a blast of heat thumping against her back as she fled. Macbeth had saved her life. Addie’s head spun and she leaned against a nearby stump post.

  Matron Maddock stared inside the laundry, hands on her hips. Then her heels clicked back down the ramp.

  ‘Why are you carrying that bird on your shoulder when I’ve asked you not to?’ she asked Addie. ‘It’s unhygienic!’

  ‘Unhygienic. Unhygienic,’ mimicked Macbeth.

  Matron Maddock glared at the cockatiel. ‘Did I hear it swearing the other day? You shouldn’t be teaching it rude words.’

  Macbeth nudged his head against Addie’s cheek, bolstering her courage. ‘My father taught him all those Shakespearean insults, not me.’

  ‘If it annoys me again, I shall cage it in the shed. It’s already too noisy around here with thirty children.’

  ‘Macbeth can’t help it – he’s a talking cockatiel!’

  Addie clamped her mouth shut, too late. Matron’s pale blue eyes flashed her disapproval.

  ‘Such disrespect for your elders, Adversity. That’s what happens when parents gallivant around the countryside putting on plays instead of looking for honest work and caring for their child.’ She sniffed, then added in a scornful voice, ‘The Famous Shakespearean Theatrical Troupe indeed!’

  ‘My parents didn’t gallivant.’ Addie was tempted to stamp her foot for emphasis. ‘And they do . . . they did care about me.’

  ‘No need to get into a huff, my dear girl. Now off you go. You’ve got a lot of work to do before the doctor arrives tomorrow.’

  I’m not your dear girl, Addie thought. Not ever. But there was something she needed from Matron Maddock. She put on her polite voice. ‘Matron, please can you make sure the hot-water boiler gets fixed? The children are afraid of it.’

  Matron dismissed Addie with a wave of her hand. ‘You don’t need to worry about adult things like that. I’ll sort it out.’

  Doubt pricked Addie’s mind like a spiky bindi-eye, then she pushed it away. Matron was right: children couldn’t fix a broken boiler. It was best to leave it to adults.

  ***

  Addie kept busy for the rest of the day to stop herself thinking about the letter from the State Government Department for Children.

  In bed that evening, she turned on her side, facing the shelf where a silver-plated trophy sat on display – her first prize from the Coal County Eisteddfod last year. Matron had insisted she practise her scales and voice exercises every day before the singing competition, but afterwards the usual rules had returned – no acting, no singing and definitely no mimicking.

  Addie lifted her most treasured possession from the wall: a framed sepia photograph of her parents taken before they were married. Her mother’s Juliet costume would have been her favourite green, with criss-crossed golden embroidery across its bodice. Her tumble of curls would have shone like a new copper coin. Juliet gazed from a stage balcony upon Romeo, Addie’s father. He stood below with his arms outstretched, dark-haired and handsome. Mama looked like she might burst into giggles as soon as the camera had whirred and clicked.

  They should never have left me here.

  Addie clamped her teeth together. She would not cry.

  Memories flooded her mind. That day eighteen months ago when her mother had hugged her goodbye and her lily-of-the-valley perfume lingered on Addie’s pinafore.

  Mama tried to smile. ‘Matron Maddock says she won’t charge us a boarding fee if you help out in the school.’

  Papa’s eyes were sad too, like his voice. ‘We’ll come back to get you, Addie, and we’ll go home to Sydney.’

  ‘You’ll be happy here,’ her mother added, drying her eyes, her tone hopeful. ‘The schoolroom looked quite functional, and it’ll be better than us trying to teach you. Matron says because you read well she’ll train you as a teacher’s helper.’

  ‘I don’t like Matron Maddock, and I don’t want to be a teacher’s helper. I’m going to be an actress,’ Addie had wailed. She’d stamped her foot. ‘And I won’t stay here without Macbeth!’

  ‘He is staying with you, my darling. Matron has agreed.’ Papa pulled her close then and whispered kind words in her ear. ‘Look for the good in people. It’s there, hiding in the shadows, waiting for them to let in the light.’

  But they weren’t the words Addie wanted to hear.

  Her parents had driven away in their rattling truck with its grinding gears. She’d climbed the orphanage’s front gate to watch, and the metal had left a bright orange band of rust across her pinafore. It stained her hands and they smelled like blood for days, but she refused to wash the rust away.

  Addie hung the sepia photograph back on the wall. Sometimes she imagined her parents driving back through the orphanage gate; their joyful reunion.

  Matron Maddock had said she should move on with her life. But how could she forget her parents?

  Chapter 4

  How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child!

  That night, Addie’s dreams raced with images of Algernon Parris chasing Macbeth into the laundry, a butterfly net in his hands. When she ran after them, there was nobody there, only a black wall with a smoke-breathing mouth. As the wall opened its jaws, Addie jolted awake into daylight, her heart racing with fear. She rubbed her eyes and scrambled out of bed.

  The younger girls were already up and dressed. They hurried outside, chatting about the roast dinner Mary would cook for that evening’s meal with Doctor Hughes, and what type of vegetables Tomas the gardener would pick. Addie stowed away her own hope. The butcher had brought a scrawny piece of mutton, which didn’t look big enough to share between thirty-five people.

  They’d be lucky to get one slice of roasted meat that night, yet Matron would insist Doctor Hughes was served more than his fair share. Imagining eating a plate of scrumptious juicy meat might be the only enjoyment the children got today. Addie sniffed at the injustice.