Dad,” I said valiantly, “and I am not a tart or a Bohemian either. Though these days they call Bohemians Beatniks. I’ve found myself a most respectable flat in a most respectable house which just happens to be at the Cross-the better end of the Cross, near Challis Avenue. Potts Point, really.”
“The Royal Australian Navy owns Potts Point,” Dad said.
Mum looked as if she was going to cry. “Why, Harriet?” “Because I’m twenty-one and I need space of my own, Mum. Now I’m through training, I’m earning good money, and flats at Kings Cross are cheap enough for me to live yet still save to go to England next year. If I moved out to some other place, I’d have to share with two or three other girls, and I can’t see that that’s any better than living at home.”
David didn’t say a thing, just sat on Dad’s right looking at me as if I’d grown another head.
“Well, come on, bright boy,” Gavin growled at him, “what have you got to say?”
“I disapprove,” David answered with ice in his voice, “but I would rather talk to Harriet on her own.”
“Well, I reckon it’s bonza,” said Peter, and leaned over to give me a cuff on the arm. “You need more space, Harry.”
That seemed to decide Dad, who sighed. “Well, there isn’t a lot I can do to stop you, is there? At least it’s closer than old Mother England. If you get into trouble, I can always yank you out of Kings Cross.”
Gavin burst into a bellow of laughter, leaned across the table with his tie in the butter and kissed my cheek. “Bully for you, Harry!” he said. “End of the first innings, and you’re still at the crease. Keep your bat ready to deal with the googlies!”
“When did you decide all this?” Mum asked, blinking hard.
“When Mrs. Delvecchio Schwartz offered me the flat.”
The name sounded very peculiar said in our house. Dad frowned.
“Missus who?” asked Granny, who had sat looking rather smug throughout.
“Delvecchio Schwartz. She’s the landlady.” I remembered a fact I hadn’t mentioned. “Pappy lives there, that’s how I got to meet Mrs. Delvecchio Schwartz.”
“I knew that Chinky girl was going to be a bad influence,” Mum said. “Since you’ve met her, you haven’t bothered with Merle.”
I put my chin up. “Merle hasn’t bothered with me, Mum. She’s got a new boyfriend, and she can’t see any farther. I’ll only come back into favour with her when he dumps her.”
“Is it a proper flat?” Dad asked.
“Two rooms. I share a bathroom with Pappy.”
“It isn’t hygienic to share a bathroom,” said David.
I lifted my lip at him. “I share a bathroom here, don’t I?” That shut him up.
Mum decided to bite the bullet. “Well,” she said, “I daresay you’ll need china and cutlery and cooking utensils. Linen. You can have your own bed sheets from here.”
I never thought, the answer just popped out. “No, I can’t, Mum. I’ve got a whole double bed to myself! Isn’t that terrific?”
They sat gaping at me as if they envisioned the double bed with a bus conductor’s bag on the end of it to collect the fees.
“A double bed?” asked David, paling.
“That’s right, a double bed.”
“Single girls sleep in single beds, Harriet.”
“Well, that is as may be, David,” I snapped, “but this single girl is going to sleep in a double bed!”
Mum leaped to her feet. “Boys, the dishes don’t wash themselves!” she chirped. “Granny, it’s time for 77 Sunset Strip.”
“Kooky, Kooky, lend me your comb!” carolled Granny, skipping up lightly.
“Well, well, did you ever? Harriet’s moving out and I’ve got a room to myself! I think I’ll have a double bed, hee-hee!”
Dad and the Bros cleared the table in double-quick time, and left me alone with David.
“What brought this on?” he asked, tight-lipped. “Lack of privacy.”
“You have something better than mere privacy, Harriet. You have a home and a family.”
I pounded my fist on the
“The Royal Australian Navy owns Potts Point,” Dad said.
Mum looked as if she was going to cry. “Why, Harriet?” “Because I’m twenty-one and I need space of my own, Mum. Now I’m through training, I’m earning good money, and flats at Kings Cross are cheap enough for me to live yet still save to go to England next year. If I moved out to some other place, I’d have to share with two or three other girls, and I can’t see that that’s any better than living at home.”
David didn’t say a thing, just sat on Dad’s right looking at me as if I’d grown another head.
“Well, come on, bright boy,” Gavin growled at him, “what have you got to say?”
“I disapprove,” David answered with ice in his voice, “but I would rather talk to Harriet on her own.”
“Well, I reckon it’s bonza,” said Peter, and leaned over to give me a cuff on the arm. “You need more space, Harry.”
That seemed to decide Dad, who sighed. “Well, there isn’t a lot I can do to stop you, is there? At least it’s closer than old Mother England. If you get into trouble, I can always yank you out of Kings Cross.”
Gavin burst into a bellow of laughter, leaned across the table with his tie in the butter and kissed my cheek. “Bully for you, Harry!” he said. “End of the first innings, and you’re still at the crease. Keep your bat ready to deal with the googlies!”
“When did you decide all this?” Mum asked, blinking hard.
“When Mrs. Delvecchio Schwartz offered me the flat.”
The name sounded very peculiar said in our house. Dad frowned.
“Missus who?” asked Granny, who had sat looking rather smug throughout.
“Delvecchio Schwartz. She’s the landlady.” I remembered a fact I hadn’t mentioned. “Pappy lives there, that’s how I got to meet Mrs. Delvecchio Schwartz.”
“I knew that Chinky girl was going to be a bad influence,” Mum said. “Since you’ve met her, you haven’t bothered with Merle.”
I put my chin up. “Merle hasn’t bothered with me, Mum. She’s got a new boyfriend, and she can’t see any farther. I’ll only come back into favour with her when he dumps her.”
“Is it a proper flat?” Dad asked.
“Two rooms. I share a bathroom with Pappy.”
“It isn’t hygienic to share a bathroom,” said David.
I lifted my lip at him. “I share a bathroom here, don’t I?” That shut him up.
Mum decided to bite the bullet. “Well,” she said, “I daresay you’ll need china and cutlery and cooking utensils. Linen. You can have your own bed sheets from here.”
I never thought, the answer just popped out. “No, I can’t, Mum. I’ve got a whole double bed to myself! Isn’t that terrific?”
They sat gaping at me as if they envisioned the double bed with a bus conductor’s bag on the end of it to collect the fees.
“A double bed?” asked David, paling.
“That’s right, a double bed.”
“Single girls sleep in single beds, Harriet.”
“Well, that is as may be, David,” I snapped, “but this single girl is going to sleep in a double bed!”
Mum leaped to her feet. “Boys, the dishes don’t wash themselves!” she chirped. “Granny, it’s time for 77 Sunset Strip.”
“Kooky, Kooky, lend me your comb!” carolled Granny, skipping up lightly.
“Well, well, did you ever? Harriet’s moving out and I’ve got a room to myself! I think I’ll have a double bed, hee-hee!”
Dad and the Bros cleared the table in double-quick time, and left me alone with David.
“What brought this on?” he asked, tight-lipped. “Lack of privacy.”
“You have something better than mere privacy, Harriet. You have a home and a family.”
I pounded my fist on the
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