A SORRY DAY FOR DANIEL.
It
was 4.30 a.m. on a particularly cold morning in June of 1916 when John Delaney
finally gathered the fortitude to slide himself out from beneath the warm
bedclothes. He lit the kerosene lantern beside the bed and made his way quietly
across the icy cold floor that led to the kitchen. The stone fireplace still
smouldered with the glowing remnants of the raging fire he had lit the night
before. Gathering an armful of logs from the woodpile outside the back door,
John quickly had the dying fire crackling once more.
Following close behind, his wife Agnes fired up the old wood stove, put a
pot of water on to boil, and set a dollop of lard to sizzling in the cast-iron
frypan. ‘How many times have I done this?’ she thought to herself; after
all, she had been going through the same ritual for the past thirty-five years.
Andrew, their youngest son, wandered into the kitchen, yawning and wiping
the sleep from his eyes, as he dropped into a chair and waited to be served his
share of eggs and leftover stew. He was now the only one left at home to help
his father on the farm. Julia had moved to Melbourne after marrying a young
newspaper reporter, and James had gone off in search of shearing work in N.S.W.
Michael, the eldest, had enlisted in the Australian Army to fight for King and
country against the dreaded Hun on some battlefield halfway around the world.
Andrew on more than one occasion had pleaded with his parents to let him join up
too, but it was always the same answer: ‘We need you here to help run the
farm; how many times do we have to tell you?’
Their breakfast plates wiped clean with the last piece of bread, John and
Andrew gave Agnes a kiss on the cheek and disappeared into the dark freezing
morning, not planning to return ’til dark of night. John headed directly for
the stable to harness old Sally, the mare he had owned for more years than he
could remember. He slowly led her to the far north paddock and hitched her up to
the plough that was still sitting in the middle of the half-harrowed field.
‘In our younger days,’ he mumbled, ‘we would have had this field
ploughed in a day. Ain’t that right, old girl?’
On the far side of the southern paddock, Andrew was busy repairing broken
fencing, which to him seemed a never-ending job. With his mind still filled with
thoughts of joining the army and the grand adventure his brother was having in
foreign lands, Andrew continued to work away. ‘One day -- one day,’ he
sighed.
The morning went quickly for Agnes; the house had to be tidied and there
were cows to be milked, eggs collected, and clothes to be washed in the copper
boiler. Already it was half past seven, and her two grandsons Joseph and Daniel
would soon be banging on her kitchen door waiting to say goodbye before
continuing on their long walk to school. The boys’ timing was perfect. Agnes
had just removed a fresh tray of biscuits from the oven when she heard their
knocking on the back door.
‘Good morning, gran! Those biscuits smell really good.’
‘Well, here, I’ve got some wrapped up for your lunch,’ Agnes said,
handing each a bundle shrouded in a clean napkin.
Catherine entered the kitchen, almost out of breath from trying to catch
up with her two active boys. ‘Have you received any letters from Michael,
Agnes?’
It was the same question Catherine asked every day.
‘No my dear, but if I do, I promise I will let you know straight
away.’
Catherine’s eyes looked blankly at the kitchen wall for a brief moment,
fluttered, then quickly returned to the boys. ‘Right. Of course you will.
Well, it’s time to get to work and you two off to school, so let’s get
going!’
The boys gave their grandmother one more wave as they disappeared, their
mother in tow, down the long dirt road leading to the town and to St.
Patrick’s school, the same school that Michael and Catherine had gone to so
many years before. Catherine now worked with her father in the family business,
helping out as much as she could around the store as well as taking care of all
the bookkeeping and banking. Her father had not been a well man these past six
months and the shop was taking its toll on him, but Bob Owens was not a man to
sit back and let others do his work. ‘If I can no longer open those front
doors by myself,’ he would rant, ‘then it’s best you call the
undertaker.’
When the boys arrived at the front gates of their school, Catherine gave
each a kiss goodbye and hurried down the road to her father’s store. It would
be yet another long day without her beloved Michael.
Joseph and Daniel quickly made their way to their classrooms, Daniel almost
knocking over his teacher, poor old Sister Theresa, as he flashed past her
through the classroom door.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing, Daniel Delaney?’ she
cried. ‘Come back here at once.’
The day had not yet started for Daniel, but a strange feeling was telling
him it wasn’t going to get any better. Sister Theresa grabbed him by the left
ear and gave it a good twist, holding it tight as she led him to the far corner
of the room.
‘You can stay facing the corner until you learn some manners or I say
otherwise!’
Fifteen minutes later Daniel was allowed to return to his desk,
embarrassed, and with one very sore and throbbing ear. He should have known
better. Sister Theresa was one of the tough Brigidine Sisters who had come out
from Ireland to take charge of the Catholic school, and she was not about to
take any kind of misbehaviour from any of her pupils, including young Daniel
Delaney. The morning lessons seemed to drag on forever; Daniel kept one sore
throbbing ear listening to the teacher, the other listening intently to the
birds and the rush of wind as it blew swiftly through the trees outside his
classroom window. At last, the bell rang to tell Daniel and the forty-nine other
pupils it was time for lunch and a half hour of freedom in the fresh country
air, well away from Sister Theresa.
Daniel settled down under the shade of an old red gum in the furthest corner of
the schoolyard. His brother and Fred McAllister, a good mate to both the boys,
soon joined him. Fred lived on the farm next door to their grandfather’s and
they had known each other from as far back as they could remember. His mother
had passed away with pneumonia when he was only two, and being the only child,
Fred was more likely to be found helping his father on their farm than sitting
behind a desk in the classroom. Today happened to be one of those days Fred had
been allowed to go to school, but his father was not happy about it, forever
mindful of the work to be done around the farm. Fred knew his schooldays would
soon be drawing to an end; after all, he was nearly fourteen. Joseph and Daniel
always shared their lunch with their best mate, but that was only because his
father never had the time to give him any. Fred didn’t care; he could never
have enough of those homemade biscuits Joseph and Daniel always got from their
dear old Gran.
The boys finished the last of their lunch, and with little else to keep
themselves occupied, decided on a rather impromptu game of cricket. Using an old
fallen branch as a cricket bat, the boys were ready to play. Daniel, being the
first to find the branch, of course insisted on being the first to make use of
it. Not having a ball at hand, Joseph would try his luck with a plump round
stone he’d found lying idly by. Daniel was not particularly a master of the
game of cricket, and certainly no master of the cricket bat, but his first and
only stroke with the bat soon sent that plump well-rounded stone straight
through the glass window of his classroom, rolling to a stop at the feet of none
other than dear sweet Sister Theresa. In a flash, Joseph and Fred had vanished,
leaving poor Daniel too petrified to move.
It was not too long before he would find himself staring into Sister
Theresa’s wild and vengeful eyes. Before he could blink, Daniel was spread
face down across one of the desks in his classroom, and was now at the mercy of
Sister Theresa and her finely honed cane. Daniel counted each and every
excruciating sting to his tender backside as he fought to hold back any sign of
a tear that might seep from his now bulging and slightly crossed eyes. His
punishment finally dealt, Daniel slowly straightened up, only to find himself
with a broom in his hand, sweeping up the broken glass that had somehow found
its way to every corner of the classroom.
‘You may take your seat now, Daniel.’
This was the first time he had ever seen his teacher smile. ‘Was she
starting to like me?’ he thought. When he sat down he realized immediately why
she was smiling; he would have to endure the next two hours sitting on a hard
wooden seat in sheer agony, with not even the welcome relief of a punishment
corner to stand in.
At three o’clock the long-awaited ring of the bell had every pupil
scurrying for the classroom door and freedom. It was Friday afternoon and the
weekend was upon them.
Daniel almost made it through the door when a firm hand caught him by the
back of his collar, bringing him to an unexpected and somewhat abrupt halt.
‘Where do you think you’re going, Mr. Delaney? We have things to
discuss; namely the payment of that broken window. On Monday morning sharp, I
wish to speak to your mother about your outrageous conduct, and to organise with
her the restitution for repairs caused through your stupidity.’
Daniel acknowledged the request with a stuttered, ‘Yyyes, Sister
Theresa.’ Holding the seat of his trousers away from his sore backside, he
walked rather awkwardly to the front gate to meet up with Joseph and Fred.
‘Joe! I’m really in for it now, thanks to you. Sister Theresa wants
to see mother and me on Monday morning, first up.’ The more Daniel spoke, the
more upset he became. ‘She wants to talk about the payment for the broken
window.’
‘Don’t blame me, Danny,’ Joe said. ‘You were the one who hit the
stone, not me.’
Daniel was lost for words; all he could think about was how he is going
to tell his mother what happened.
‘Maybe if you gave something nice to your mother at the store before
you go home she’ll go easy on you,’ Fred suggested. ‘What about some
lovely apples and a nice bunch of flowers? That’ll do the trick.’
The idea sounded pretty good
to Daniel, but in this time of desperation, any idea would have sounded good;
after all, what did he have to lose? ‘But where do we get our hands on apples
and flowers? We don’t have any money.’
‘Who needs money, boys? Old man Watson has plenty in his back
garden.’
The boys’ eyes almost popped from their sockets. ‘Crikey Fred, are
you mad? You know what happened to the last kid who tried to pinch his
apples.’
That would be Ernie O’Brien, who had forgotten about old man Watson’s
crazy dog from hell, Lucifer. They remember poor Ernie having six stitches in
his backside after not quite clearing the old paling fence in time and having to
walk about in a rather unusual manner for two weeks. Daniel, while listening to
Fred’s idea instinctively moved his hands to his own backside. The memory of
painful lunchtime experiences with Sister Theresa and her trusty cane was still
all too fresh.
Weighing up all the odds, however, the boys decided to give it a go just
this once. After all, what could be worse, facing their mother with the news of
the window without generous offerings, or a bite on the bum from a crazy old
dog? Old man Watson’s property was just a half a mile away at the rear of the
school. After crossing a couple of paddocks and some wire fencing, they were
soon standing at the six-foot paling barricade that surrounded the house. The
boys quietly followed the fence around to the side of the property and stared up
at the abundance of delicious red apples just waiting to be picked. Lucky for
the boys there was no sign of Lucifer; the dog from hell was more than likely
having his afternoon nap in the shed at the back.
Not only did old man Watson have a tree full of apples but also a
magnificent garden filled with the most handsome flowers the boys had ever seen.
‘Okay Danny, keep it very quiet, and me and Fred will give you a leg
up, but you’ll have to pull yourself up over the top.’
‘Me!’ cried Daniel.
‘Why me?’
‘Shhhh, keep quiet, or that crazy old dog will be upon us,’ whispered
Joseph. ‘After you make it to the tree, grab hold of that low branch and pull
yourself up. When you pick the apples, put them into your shirt. On your way
back, grab a handful of flowers and make straight for the fence and we’ll pull
you over.’
Before Daniel had a chance to find fault with Joseph’s plan, he found
himself sneaking slowly towards the tree, nervously scanning every nook and
cranny for any sign of the crazy dog. At last Daniel was in the tree and filling
that shirt as fast as his hands could pick them. This was too easy, he thought,
as he grabbed hold of the branch to lower himself to the ground.
Suddenly, however, the branch snapped and Daniel found himself heading
for the ground at a most alarming rate. Hitting the ground with a thud, Daniel
gave out one almighty cry. He struggled to his feet and was making for the
flowers when from around the side of the house came none other than the dog from
hell. Daniel had never seen teeth that big on a dog before and to make matters
worse they were getting bigger by the second. Not about to leave without his
flowers, he grabbed a handful as he passed the garden in full flight and leapt
for the fence.
As the boys struggled to pull him over, Daniel felt Lucifer’s fangs
grab hold of his trousers. ‘Help me, Joe, he’s gunna eat me!’ he screamed.
With the boys pulling one way and Lucifer the other, Daniel’s trousers finally
gave way, and he found himself sprawled out on top of Fred and Joseph minus the
backside of his trousers. With a crazy dog barking and chewing at the fence, and
old man Watson letting loose with his shotgun, the boys wasted no time in making
good their escape. Joseph and Fred had no idea they could run so fast, but
compared to Daniel they were mere snails. In spite of a shirt full of apples and
a bunch of flowers he had already passed them and was almost at the school
grounds.
Resting for a few minutes to catch their breath and to recount their
experiences with Lucifer and old man Watson, the boys set off for their
grandfather’s store. Daniel, bearing gifts for the meeting with his mother and
brimming with newly found confidence, took the lead. Fred McAllister and Joseph
thought it a safer idea to wait up at the corner while Daniel made his way into
the store.
‘Good afternoon mother, I’ve brought you a little surprise,’ said
Daniel, beaming with self assurance as he started unloading the apples from his
shirt. And look at the pretty flowers I’ve got for you.’
Catherine couldn’t believe her eyes. ‘What on earth have you been up
to?’ she cried. ‘Look at the state of your trousers!’ This wasn’t the
reaction he had been expecting considering his fine offerings. Daniel, in all
the excitement was shamefully unaware that he was missing the backside of his
trousers, the sight of which invited a roar of laughter from his grandfather who
just happened to be coming into the shop behind him. Daniel was not only
embarrassed but was totally devastated. The tears started to fill his eyes as he
tried to explain about the window’s accidental but unfortunate demise and the
reason for the more than close encounter with old man Watson’s crazy dog.
Catherine leaned down and took Daniel into her arms. She was aware of
what her youngest son had tried to do, and in a way, appreciated what he had
gone through, just for her. ‘I think it would be best you go straight home to
grandma’s and wait until I get home; we’ll talk about the broken window
later.’
She watched as Daniel ran to meet up with Fred and Joseph, but could not
contain herself from laughing any longer as the sight of his bare and rather
still red derriere gradually disappeared from view.
The two boys said goodbye to Fred and continued on home. Their
grandmother would be waiting at the front fence to greet them no matter what
time they got home, and they knew there were plenty of biscuits to tide them
over until tea. Since Michael had been away, Catherine and the boys generally
had their tea at John and Agnes’s. Catherine would not usually get home before
6.00 pm and the boys needed looking after until then.
‘By the way, Daniel,’ Agnes asked. ‘What on earth have you been up
to today to get your trousers in such condition?’
‘I had a run in with Mr. Watson’s dog and…’ Daniel continued to
tell her the whole story. Shaking her head in disbelief, she could hardly wait
for John and Andrew to return home. She knew they would be more than amused.
That evening after tea, the laughter continued at poor Daniel’s expense, but
it mattered little to Daniel; he had never seen his family laugh so much since
his father had gone off to the war.
Catherine also realised that, and the brightness of their laughter faded
as her thoughts returned once more to Michael.
Catherine and her boys said goodnight and returned to their home and to
bed, but not before a prayer was said for a husband and father and his safe and
speedy return. Giggles and whispers about their day’s experience with the dog
from hell and their unforgettable cricket match would soon cease as their eyes
surrendered to the very long and sorry day.