Annie’s Day: Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour

Excerpt 1:

Chapter 2 – Australia, 1939 – 1941

“Another generation of Australians to be slaughtered,” Annie’s father, Ian, said looking at his grown children gathered around the radio in the homestead kitchen. A rare moment with the family before Joe, her younger brother, returned to university, and Annie reported back to the hospital, both in Sydney. He reached back and flicked off the wireless.

“But, Dad,” Ernest, the eldest, replied, “we can’t rely on others to defend us.”

Ian waved his pipe, his words dismissive. “The Germans will never get to Australia.”

“What if other countries join in?” asked Annie.

“And what would you know about war, missy?” Her father asked, a sneer curling his lip.

“It’s not just men who go to war, Father,” she answered, stung into a response but knowing he’d never listen.

“Well, none of you are going!” He glared at Annie and her two brothers. “Someone has to run the farm.” Pipe smoke swirled in the strained silence, hanging in the kitchen like a shroud.

“Too late, Father,” Ernest said, his face grim, determined. “I signed up with the Citizen Military Forces yesterday.”

Annie held her breath but the expected tirade didn’t come. Instead her sturdy, rugged father deflated, as if muscles honed from years of mustering and throwing sheep had liquified.

“Bloody fool!” His quiet anger turned to certainty. “Joe, you will stay in Sydney, finish university. Annie, you’ll be coming home. I’ll need help.”

Defiance crossed Joe’s face and Annie knew he too would go to war, probably even before he finished his law degree. Well, if they were going, so was she. Annie glanced at the chair in which her mother had traditionally sat, longing, yet again, for her support.

“No, Father, I won’t. They’ll need nurses.”

The delayed onslaught erupted. Before she could whip out a retort, Ernest pushed her out to the screened verandah which formed one side of the homestead.

“Let Joe calm him down. Good practice for his lawyering.” He patted her shoulder, “Come on, we both need a ciggie.”

She sighed and took the offered cigarette. “Have you really signed on? Before Menzies even announced war.”

“Too right!”

“What did Gracie say?”

“Haven’t told her.”

“Oh, Ernie. Shouldn’t you have talked to her first?” Annie exhaled, smoke lingering in the still air, an image of her older brother’s skittish girlfriend drifting in front of her, “There’ll be tears.”

He shook his head. “There’d be tears either way. I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“When do you start?”

“Three months basic training at Ingleburn, near Liverpool, at the end of the week.”

“You know Joe will join up.” Annie couldn’t imagine her brother, the less sporty, more academic one, coping with the rough and tumble of military training.

“That’s why I didn’t tell him before. I hope he finishes his degree.” Ernest drew nicotine deep into his lungs.

“Yeah, me too.” She tilted her head toward the kitchen. “Sounds like he’s calming down.”

Ernest nudged her shoulder. “You know Dad loves you?”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it.”

“He just doesn’t know how to talk to you, Annie.”

“He never has.”

“I suppose. Since Mum died, you’re about the only female he sees.”

“Apart from ewes.” She sighed. “He didn’t really talk to Mum either, Ernest. Do you think he ever wonders about her death? She died of exhaustion. Working the property with him. Keeping the house. Looking after us. Slave labour.” She shivered.

“Ahh, don’t be too hard on him. He does care.” Ernest put his arm around Annie, his calloused fingers rough against her thin sweater.

She shrugged. “How did we all turn out like her and not him?”

“Postman!”

Their laughter dissolved across the home paddock and into a stand of gums beyond the stockyards. The screen door clicked, and they turned to see Joe, a smile crinkling his narrow face.

“Well, that took some talking.”

“Something you’ve always been able to do.” Annie jabbed her brother in the ribs. “You got away with everything, even when Ernie and I got hauled over the coals by Mum!”

“Hardly the coals. Mum couldn’t stay cross for longer than it took to boil the billy.” Joe grinned at his siblings. “You okay, both of you?”

“Yeah, fine.” Ernest looked hard at his brother. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Don’t give me that, mate. You know what I mean?”

“Will you finish uni?” Annie asked.

“Doubt it. Still got a year to go.”

Annie shivered again, winter still a breath on the air, or perhaps an omen, and peered at her younger brother. “What’s going on?”

“Wha’d ya mean?”

“Don’t give me that, Joe.” Annie repeated her brother’s words, “I can always tell when you’re hiding something. You’ve signed up too, haven’t you?”

“Not technically.” Joe shook out a cigarette and flipped his Zippo lighter.

“But something’s going on.” Ernest’s voice was flat.

“Might be.” Joe paused. “Look, I’m not being coy, or lawyerly, to use your word, Ernie, but I can’t speak about things I’m not sure of yet. Leave it at that.”

“I need another smoke.” Annie reached for Joe’s packet of Turfs.