blodwyn

Aunty Nell's Place

I was excited and scared all at the same time. Dressed in my favourite
hand-me-down - a rust-coloured velvet dress with an open lace collar - I
sat in the train smoothing my hands against the run of the pile and
flattening it again until it shone in the morning light. My older
sister sat opposite me looking out of the window as the train rumbled
along. Her face was a study, her mouth pursed in a prim line and her
deep blue eyes clouded with an expression I could not penetrate.
Silence reigned except for the constant clatter of the train. The
rhythm was steady even comforting as it carried me along to meet a
person I had never seen before, to a place I had never been to before,
for a length of time I could not possibly comprehend.

"Why do we have to go to Aunty Nell's place in Greenbushes Mummie? Why
can't I stay with you?" My large blue eyes were limpid with unshed
tears.

"The Japanese are coming and it will be safer for you in the country."
I struggled to understand what would happen to my parents and little
sister if the Japanese came, but I didn't dare ask any more questions.

So it was on that day we were bundled on to the train to Greenbushes. I
remember it was April 1942. I was nine, soon to be 10 and I was off on
the next chapter of my life.

I watched fascinated as the train wound through farmland and then into
the trees. They were tall, blue/grey and seemingly endless. But the
bracken ferns were emerald green and seemed to be reaching out to touch
me. I leaned far out to touch them and registered surprise and
disappointment to find the leaves so tough and hard. I thought they
would be soft and feathery like the maiden hairs at home.

I loved that train trip. My ready sense of adventure was rising and I
was imagining all sorts of beautiful things were about to happen.

****

Eight months later I was again on that same train with that same sister
but this time I was heading home. My sister and I had taken a vow of
silence that we would not divulge all the horror of those eight months
with Aunty Nell. We would not tell of all the sustained attempt to
toughen up we city kids - the stealing of our shoes, the hidings, the
denial of 'privileges', the endless chores, the meanness, the censorship
of our letters home - no we wouldn't tell a thing. We would be brave.
We would not worry our parents. And as the train chuffed into Perth
railway station, there were Mummie and Daddie and little sister Gwenyth
to greet us. We tumbled out on to the platform, chorussing as if by
consent "Aunty Nell was AWFUL". And out the long sad story came.

Blodwyn Timms

Autobiography
Aunty Nell's Place