Ruby of Kettle Farm (6 page)

T
HIRD
term at school started with a burst of sunshine. The puddles in the schoolyard dried up. Daisies and Iceland poppies bloomed in the girls' garden at the back of the school building. Swallows returned to the old mud nest under the eaves.

Skipping ropes and footballs were packed away in the sports cupboard, and the girls stopped doing French knitting and started making dandelion chains. At lunch time the boys played cricket on the short concrete pitch at the side of the school building, and the girls drew chalk lines on their playground area so they could play what Ruby called mock tennis. There was no tennis net, and the school had only four very old tennis racquets. Their wooden frames were dinted and scratched, and two of the racquets had broken strings.

Ruby always raced to be first to bag one of the tennis racquets. She learned how to serve and how to play a backhand shot. She laughed herself silly when a stray ball from May landed in Colin Evans's lap while he was eating his lunch, and when Cynthia belted one into the cow paddock next door.

Ruby wondered if the Walkers had their tennis court yet. She imagined Brenda dressed in something very white and very neat, but this image no longer made her feel angry. Playing mock tennis, taking turns with May and Lorna and Betty and Cynthia and Iris, was fun.

Cynthia was included in the Grade Seven girls' group now, and Josie had begun to play with the other Grade Ones. Shy Virginia usually sat alone, watching everyone else's games, but one day Ruby saw her making dandelion chains with Bee and Bee's friend Ant.

‘She's really nice,' Bee said afterwards. ‘She hardly ever says a word, though. It's like she's scared to.'

‘It's more likely because you and Ant talk all the time,' Ruby told her. ‘I never knew such a pair of chatterboxes.'

None of the boys played with Darcy, and when his classmate Tom Evans invited him to join in a game of cricket, he refused. Mostly he just walked around by himself, whistling and slashing at the air with a stick.

‘He hasn't forgotten what happened, you know, that day,' Cynthia told Ruby. ‘I don't reckon he's likely to, neither.'

All the Grade Sevens except Cynthia were now studying hard for the Qualifying Certificate that would allow them to graduate from primary school. Even Doris was so busy that she ignored Ruby and the Wests. Ruby never quite stopped worrying that Doris might find out what had happened to Dad and tell everyone, but she managed to push it to the back of her mind.

Ruby and May brought home piles of homework and tested each other on grammar, poetry, nature study, science, morals and citizenship, history and geography.

When she wasn't studying, Ruby's thoughts returned again and again to Dad. The days passed, and her birthday came and went. She hoped that Dad might have remembered it, but there was still no word. No card, no greeting. Nothing.

The exams were held over a week in November. Mr Miller kept an eye out to make sure nobody cheated. ‘Put your arm around your work, as big as an elephant's foot,' he said.

The last exam, for English composition, was on a Friday morning. Afterwards all the Grade Sevens gathered for a celebration lunch on a trestle table set up in the girls' playground. Mr Miller brought plates of sandwiches and fruit cake, and a big jug of raspberry cordial. ‘To your future,' he said, raising his glass. ‘I'm sure you'll all go on to high school. And after that, what do you hope to do?'

Lorna and Betty said they'd stay and work on their fathers' farms. ‘By the time I'm eighteen I want to be married and starting a family,' Betty said. She looked sideways at Bob Turner, whose rather big ears went very red. ‘Four kids would be nice.'

‘I want to be a schoolteacher,' said Iris.

‘Nursing for me,' May said. Ruby looked at her in surprise. She'd never heard May mention this. But when she thought about it, she knew that it would be the perfect career for May.

‘A fine choice,' said Mr Miller. ‘What about you, Ruby?'

‘I think I'll be a photographer,' Ruby said. ‘I'd like that.' And then, because everybody was being so friendly and nice, she added, ‘But right now, the only thing I want to do is find my dad.'

‘Well, I know where you can find him,' Doris said, with a mean little laugh. ‘He won't be going very far, not where he is. I must say, I'm real glad people aren't reading about my dad in the paper. I'd be that ashamed I wouldn't want to show my face. Cynthia'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Cynthia?'

Cynthia blushed scarlet. ‘I don't know what you're talking about,' she said.

‘Yes, you do,' Doris said. ‘Ruby's dad's in prison, isn't he? Just like your dad was. Probably they even know each other.'

‘That's quite enough, Doris,' Mr Miller said. But Ruby hardly heard him. She felt as if all her blood had drained away. Why did I say anything? she thought. I must have been mad. Doris has found out about Dad, and now everybody knows. Oh my hat – what will Mother do?

Cold with shock, she looked over at May.

May's expression didn't change, but she nodded slightly. ‘Be brave,' Ruby imagined her saying. ‘Go on. Stand up to her.'

Ruby swallowed. ‘It's true,' she said. ‘My father was in prison, a while ago. I'm not sure what he did, but I know he isn't a crook. He's a really good person. Now he's not in prison anymore and we don't know where he is.' She looked straight at Doris. ‘I just want my dad back.'

For a while nobody said anything. Then Eric Weber grinned at her. ‘Good on you, Ruby,' he said. ‘That's telling her.'

Mr Miller cleared his throat. ‘I know that none of this will go any further,' he said. ‘Doris, I'd like to see you afterwards, please. Now, what about you, Cynthia? What will you be doing when this school year has ended?'

Cynthia blushed again as everyone turned to look at her. ‘I reckon we'll be moving again before too long,' she said. ‘We just found out yesterday. Dad might have a job with Mum's brother in Mount Gambier. He's an undertaker, and he could do with some help. It's a good business, funerals, because people always die, don't they? You can't go wrong. There's a proper house we can live in, too, Mum says.'

‘Oh, Cynthia, I'm so pleased for all of you,' said Ruby.

‘Sounds like a real dead end to me,' said Doris. But this time nobody was listening.

Now that the exams were over, there was a holiday sort of feeling at the school, with fewer lessons and more activities.

The main classroom was decorated for Christmas with swags of coloured paper chains, and fancy cut-out snowflakes were pasted on all the windows. Rehearsals began for the break-up concert, to be held in just three weeks' time.

The highlight of the concert would be the Grade Seven play. With the help of Mr Miller, the Grade Sevens had written the script themselves – a funny version of the Cinderella story.

Ruby was Cinderella, and for the ballroom scene she would wear her pink silk taffeta dress – a little too tight for her now. The last time she'd worn it was at her fancy-dress birthday party almost exactly a year ago. May was the fairy godmother, and Cynthia was the wicked stepmother. Betty and Lorna were the ugly sisters, and they had already planned their silly hairstyles and outrageous costumes. Bob Turner was the prince, and Colin Evans was the king, with Iris his queen.

Eric had written a special comedy part for himself as the footman in charge of the glass slipper, and Clive Schwartz was the page who carried the slipper around on a cushion. Eric and Clive hoped to make everyone laugh with a slapstick routine. ‘Like in a Buster Keaton movie,' Eric said to Ruby.

Doris had a special comedy role, too – as ladies' maid to the ugly sisters. To everybody's surprise, she was very good.

‘Who'd have thought Doris would be a star?' Ruby said to May after their first rehearsal. ‘You just never know what people are really like, do you?'

Kettle Farm was getting ready for Christmas. The plum puddings had been made months ago, and now it was time for the cake. Aunt Vera had saved some of the egg money to pay for dried fruit and crystallised cherries, and Uncle James had bought a small bottle of brandy, which cost a whole ten shillings. ‘It's lucky we only have Christmas once a year,' he'd said gloomily, handing it to Aunt Vera.

This Saturday afternoon the kitchen was very busy. May was sifting flour and baking powder and spices into the big earthenware bowl, and Bee was picking stems off the washed currants. Mother was carefully lining the cake tin with butter-smeared strips of brown paper. Ruby was chopping candied lemon peel. She had just put a bit in her mouth when there was a knock at the back door.

‘I expect it's a man looking for work,' said Aunt Vera, who was standing at the stove blanching almonds. ‘There have been a few of them lately, haven't there? Ruby, please show him to the garage. I think he'll find James there.'

Ruby wiped her sticky hands on a dishcloth and went to the door.

The swagman stood with his back to the house, looking out over the yard. He was just an ordinary looking swaggie with dusty boots, a battered felt hat, and a rolled-up swag on his back.

‘My uncle is in the garage,' Ruby began to say. And then the man turned around and held out his arms.

‘Ruby,' he said. ‘My little Ruby.'

Ruby stared. I'm dreaming, she thought. Of course I'm dreaming.

Could it really be Dad, this thin, ragged, sunburned man? Was it possible?

For just a moment she held back, but then she looked up and saw the love and hope in his eyes, and she knew it was Dad, and the flood of joy and amazement and utter relief left her breathless. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come, so she just hugged and hugged him, sobbing and laughing at the same time.

‘It's really you!' she said at last. ‘I can't believe it. It's really, really you.'

She took his hand and led him into the kitchen, and Mother and Dad fell into each other's arms, and Mother was crying and laughing too. And Ruby stood and watched the two people she loved better than anybody else in the world, and she knew she'd been right – Dad was what Mother needed most of all.