Swaying in her hammock Josephine gazed at the canopy of the majestic Poinciana with satisfaction, such a contrast to the pain and terror that had once stifled her. She took a sip from her Aperitivo, causing the ice cubes to tinkle. In this relaxed mood Josephine felt ready for just about anything. Why not a visit to the library? Looking at the wrought iron clock she calculated: two fifteen, enough time to get going for today’s presentation about forbidden books. Why not, why not, indeedy. She guzzled down the remaining drink and sashayed inside.
Disrobed from her bright caftan Josephine stopped in front of her full-length mirror. She stroked her mane of red hair, blue eyes twinkling back at her reflection. There were some wrinkles of course, but only fine ones, laughter lines. Her slenderness was accentuated by her choice of black trousers, ballerina slippers, and a tiger striped jacket. Notwithstanding that in an era of cosmetic enhancement a person’s age could be challenging to gauge, Josephine generally passed, depending on her disposition of the moment, for anything between fifty and late sixties. Disregarding her years, today she was inclined to favour early fifties, thus her posture was erect, her gait straight and her appearance exuded double capital C’s – Cheeky and Cheery. She was geared for a new venture.* * *
Entering the library’s meeting room, Josephine slid into the first chair of the second last row, reclined in her seat and inspected the person beside her. Sue seemed to be in her forties. Crimson lips dominated features that were surrounded by short black hair. She radiated an aura of optimism. Josephine leaned towards Sue:
‘No, no, he will be talking about years ago, when books were censored by the Australian Government.’
Both, Josephine and Sue, paid attention as Mr Peabody, the presenter from the National Archives, unpacked the history surrounding the 1901 Customs Act that authorised the Commonwealth Customs Department to ban books deemed, for various reasons, to be indecent, obscene or blasphemous.
‘No other western country had such strict censorship. Indeed’ elaborated Mr Peabody ‘JD Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye was one of the prohibited materials.’
‘What? I read that years ago, what’s indecent about that?’
Josephine was unable to stop herself. Feeling all eyes upon her, she lifted her chin and looked around her. Her so what defiance gave way to an expression of bewilderment and disbelief. A chill ran down her spine. Sitting four rows away she spotted Herman. It can’t be. He’s been out of my life for ages. He left Queensland after all that drama. What is HE doing here? Here, of all places? What right has he to be here? Maybe it’s not HIM. Oh, yes, how could I ever forget the frame of that stocky built wardrobe of a brute, even though he seems to have shrunk. The subject of her attention remained fixed on Mr Peabody’s continuing lecture.
Oblivious to the presenter’s rendition Josephine recoiled in her chair. Memories buried long ago erupted. She thought she had moved on, she had coped and overcome the adversity. She thought she was happy, settled, and she was! Could her life had taken a different course? But then, she had no choice. He made it for her.
* * *
Once upon a time, when Josephine was young, and yes, it is ages ago, she and Herman were dating. They did what all young people did, got married, furnished a home and had two gorgeous little girls. Happy happy family life, or so it seemed. Over time, the differences in their personalities became more evident. Herman enjoyed going fishing, having his beer and generally being lethargic, meaning - doing nothing. His lack of ambition manifested itself in his inability to keep a job for any length of time.
Around that time the government offered women who had been out of the workforce due to domestic circumstances the option to gain qualifications at Technical Colleges. Josephine took that opportunity and obtained clerical employment one year later. The domestic situation did not improve; Herman showed no interest in Josephine or their children. Nonetheless, she asked him to come to her employer’s Christmas party. He declined so she went without him. At that party Josephine met Roger. What started so harmless changed the course of her life.
* * *
Jo answered ‘yes, what about you? In which section are you?’
‘I’m in Accounts. By the way I’m Roger.’
Jo studied his face. Her mind recalled the few times when she had noticed him from a distance. His tall muscular build was easily recognisable, not like Herman’s stocky physique. Roger’s piercing green eyes governed his handsome face.
‘I’m Jo, pleased to meet you.’
‘Your glass is nearly empty. Can I get you another drink, Jo?’
‘Yes, why not. Thanks.’
As Roger disappeared towards the drinks table, Jo pondered about her elated mood. This ‘why not’ slipped out before I even thought about it. I’m not doing anything I shouldn’t. Just having a drink, what’s the harm in that?
‘Having a good time, Jo?’
Jo turned: ‘Ah, Inge, you’re back. Yep, what about you?’
‘Beats working here or studying for my BA.’
‘That’s for sure.’
Roger joined them with two glasses. ‘Here you are, lovely lady. A glass of chardonnay. Hi Inge, enjoying yourself?’
‘Yes, thanks, Roger. Oh, got to catch Bobbi. See you two later.’
Roger faced Jo boldly. ‘I’ve seen you bashing away on the typewriter in between keeping the boys happy with mugs of coffee. You seem to like working with them?’
‘Yep, it’s pretty good. They treat me well. And if I need to pick up the kids from school early, they understand.’
‘How many do you have?’
‘Two. Girls. And you?’
‘I’ve got a boy and a girl.’
As the sound of a new tune weaved itself through the jam-packed floor Jo began to sway rhythmically. Her lips almost touched Roger’s ear as she melodiously hummed: ‘Oh Susie Q. I love Clearwater’s music.’
‘Me too. Though I’m also a bit of a classical music fan.’
‘Actually, so am I. I sometimes go the Concert Hall, to the Philharmonic. And I love Schubert songs.’
‘You wouldn’t believe it, I’ve got the whole cycle of his Winter Journey. My uncle left it to me. Maybe you can join me listening one day?’
Jo blushed at the thought. How embarrassing. She overcame her awkwardness by recounting David Helfgott’s Chopin interpretation at Mayne Hall. Roger seemed to absorb every one of her words. She felt elated.
‘Who’s picking up your kids?’
‘My mother.’
‘Do you feel like a bite to eat? Italian? All this drinking makes me hungry and I don’t really care much for these cold sausage rolls. We could go to Luigi’s in the Valley.’
Jo’s second burst of ‘why not’ came again before she could restrain her eagerness. They left the party as if it were the most natural thing to do and Roger drove to the Trattoria. Over pizza, more wine and Italian songs, their attraction to each other manifested itself in their non-stop chattering. To any outsider it would have seemed as if they had known each other forever. Why is it that I am so comfortable in his company? Herman never treats me like this. Never makes me feel good about myself.
‘Penny for your thoughts’ roused Jo out of her musings.
‘Oh, I was just thinking about Monday’s sales meeting’ she lied.
‘With that look in your eyes it must mean something special for you.’
‘Yes, well, I try to do a good job.’
Chatting about similar work ethics and tastes in movies the time just flew. Luigi had already started to clear some of the tables.
‘I guess I better get going. It’s been such a lovely evening.’
‘Let me take you home.’
They left the restaurant. Crossing the road Roger took Jo’s hand, guiding her across to the other side. She felt a slight tinge in her lower abdomen. Walking towards the car Roger protectively put his arm around her right shoulder and with ‘where to’ opened the door for her.
‘Bardon. David Avenue. You know where that is?’
He knew and had no problems getting there. They stopped in front of her house.
‘I’ll see you at work.’
Jo tried to remain cool but her hasty:
‘It’s been really a nice evening. And, ehm, thanks for the dinner’ just gushed out.
She planted a shy kiss on Roger’s left cheek. He turned, their lips touched culminating in a lingering kiss. A feeling of overpowering warmth filled her insides. She inhaled Roger’s masculine odour not minding the mixture of alcohol, garlic and citrus after-shave. His well-built arms gave her the comfort she was yearning. I so want this. The sound of a possum in the tree above the car startled them. Jo became aware of the outline of her home. Oops, what have I done, right here?
‘I’m sorry, but I must really fly.’ She exited the car with a hurried wave. His ‘see you at work’ rang in her ears.
* * *
What a day! How one evening can put your life into turmoil? Here I was leading a life I thought so ordinary, steady, unsatisfied and now I am not sure of anything anymore. Is it because of this man whom I only just met tonight or is it because I was unsettled anyway? And I guess, I was ready to be unfaithful. And what does that mean anyway? Marriage is an institution created so that a man should look after a woman and any children. This is enforced by church and state so that they don’t have to provide and care for them. And that is because ever since Adam and Eve women have been classified as inferior beings. They don’t have equal rights or opportunities. What was that assignment about emancipatory endeavours that Inge asked me to read for her BA and give feedback? Ah, yes, it was about that female German writer, Ida von Hahn-Hahn. She wrote in the early 1840s. Ida boldly suggested to send boys to sewing schools and girls to universities. Do this for three generations, she proposed, and then see how different the world would be. Not only that, Ida questioned how can a girl at the tender age of eighteen decide, and know, who and what she will be happy with in years to come. If a person develops and grows, and isn’t that what we are meant to do, it seems logical that you then would have different expectations at age thirty, forty and older. Wow, what a woman she was. And here we are more than one hundred and seventy odd years later and these customs are still so entrenched in our and most societies.
Josephine put the glass firmly onto the table.
Yet, some women made history. Some were powerful. There was Queen Elizabeth I, who, amazingly, never got married. There was Empress Maria Theresia of Austria, who had more than a dozen kids, and there was Katharina the Great of Russia, who had more than a dozen lovers. A smile spread across Josephine’s face.
On the whole women are only now gaining more ground in their fight to get some recognition and chances to better themselves. But everything is still so dependent on the male provider. If I left Herman and tried to buy a house in my own name, the bank wouldn’t even give me a loan without a guarantor. Yet, I am earning a steadier income than he does, I am more reliable and resilient. Though recalling tonight’s feelings, was I resilient? Here I am, feeling guilty because of these stupid social conventions. Why should I feel guilty? I am a married woman and I had dinner with a man who is not my husband. I have a husband who is not a husband anyway. Was tonight’s encounter awful? No, I enjoyed it. I longed for it. Why? Because I don’t love Herman anymore. Did I ever love him? Not sure, really. I married him because that was expected of me – following social conventions. Did I think that at the time? Well, I had my doubts, but I was too young and inexperienced at eighteen to analyse it and think it through. I should have read Ida von Hahn-Hahn earlier. Ha-ha. Should I go out with Roger now? Certainly not. It would be jumping from the fat into the fire, literally, because, boy oh boy, there were some sparks between us. She picked up the glass and took another drop of water.
But can I continue living like I did in the past? Not really. Herman does not show any respect for me. As long as the house is clean, the dinner and beer on the table, he doesn’t care who makes it. Why put up with this any longer? I have a permanent job and reasonable security, if I do my job and don’t get pregnant. Oh, how many women have been sacked since I began working because of it? And how I hate it when they ask during the interview ‘How many children do you have? Do you plan to have more family? Are you in the family way?' Next thing they'll want to know how do you like your eggs boiled? which position do you take when having intercourse? How insulting, but they do it and obviously feel they have the right to do so. How I hate it! It’s so demeaning, they wouldn’t ask a man those questions, otherwise they’d get a whack. Cowards. It’s so unfair! How to get out of this situation? It’s funny how tonight’s events have created an awakening in me. It just felt so natural and good. And it’s not even Roger as such, it could have been anyone who treated me nicely. Though we seem to be very compatible and he is very attractive. Man of the world. Self-assured. I wonder what it would be like to live with him? I do have a feeling that if I encouraged him, it could turn into something more serious. He seemed to like me and didn’t seem to be happy in his relationship either. But he too has two kids, it’s all so complicated. Difficult enough with my own two. How would they react to having their world turned upside down?
Looking at the clock she registered 12:33 am.
Yet mother always says, better a happy single mum than having two miserable parents. Drama, drama, drama! And finally, would it end up being the same boring relationship as with Herman? And what does the wise Ida say here? Good old Ida, if only you had known how your writing would influence another woman’s life so many years later. That’s it. Stand on my own two feet! No Herman. No Roger, but Jo for Josephine. How to go about it? Cousin Nadine said that the new Griffith University is offering degrees to women who have been out of the workforce because of family commitments. What if I were to apply for one of their courses, get educated like ‘Rita’ in the movie and qualified for something other than boring old admin work. What will I do with the kids? They are still too small, leaving Herman would be hard enough. What if, what if? Oh, what am I thinking, just because I met an interesting and really nice man by whom I felt appreciated, I am planning on changing my world. Best get to bed, tomorrow is another day!
* * *
Still half in slumber, Josephine was being dragged out of bed with Herman’s hissing ‘I am going to kill you.’ He hauled her through the bedroom and threw her onto the spare bed. Too dazed Josephine could not fight him off. He sat upon her shoulders and upper torso with all his might, holding her down brutally. He kept punching her on the face, in the eyes and on the mouth slurring ‘I am going to destroy your beautiful face and eyes. I don’t care about the children.’ She could not move, she was breathless, she was trapped under his colossal body. He kept punching her and saying over and over ‘I’ll kill you.’ She expelled a faint gurgling sound, but he kept on punching her. Unable to free herself her thoughts raced: This is the end. He is going to kill me. I am going to die. My children, my beautiful children.
The blood had splattered everywhere, Herman hesitated, Josephine managed to free herself of his weight and ran across the road to the neighbours. They called the ambulance and the son got a shotgun in case Herman followed. Josephine was taken to the emergency department at the hospital where ten stitches were inserted under her left eye and seven over her right eye. She was treated for split lips and lacerations to the face. She was told to see a dentist about the broken teeth. The staff’s sympathy and care became somewhat subdued once they heard that it was ‘just another domestic.’ So they sent her home, where the police were in the process of taking inebriated Herman away. He was charged for unlawful assault.
The Registrar at the Supreme Court noted the severity of Herman’s aggravated assault in the Summons. Even though an injunction was issued to restrain Herman from entering the premises upon which Josephine and the children were residing, or from assaulting, threatening, molesting, following, harassing, or otherwise interfering with or contacting Josephine or either of the children in any manner whatsoever, Josephine was traumatised for many months. She feared that he would try to carry out his threats again and lived with the children at Inge’s home. The psychological scars took years to heal. This was a time when counselling was not as widespread as it is these days, when there were not many resources, when attitudes often lay the blame on the victim ‘she must have asked for it’ thus excusing the perpetrator of domestic violence. At least now a victim of domestic violence can become the Australian of the Year, create awareness and work towards building a society that will not tolerate such inhumane behaviour – a society that aspires to respect the dignity of every human being.
Josephine eventually found the confidence to create a contented life for herself and her children. She never remarried. As for Roger, well, she never did listen to his collection of the Winter Journey cycle. She did, however, attend the Schubertiade in the Austrian village of Schwarzenberg, where she heard Mauro Peter sing her favourite lieder. And she did complete a BA.
* * *
‘I hope you have enjoyed this presentation. If anybody is interested in visiting the National Archives, I’ll leave a card here with contact details. Thank you for your attention and interest!’
Mr Peabody’s voice was drowned by applause.
‘Well, what did you think of that?’
shook Josephine out of her pondering. Turning to her neighbour, she couldn’t think of a reply other than:
‘Yes, that was interesting. The old Catcher in the Rye, ehm.’
‘Yes, but what about all the other stuff? Just so amazing, don’t you think?’
Not having heard anything, Josephine replied:
‘Simply amazing, sure!’
After a moment’s silence she took a deep breath and continued:
‘Do you feel like a cup of coffee, or something stronger? All these banned books are such a fascinating subject.’ She mused: The vicissitudes of social mores. Not so long ago some books were forbidden, and domestic violence was swept under the carpet. Now there is no censorship on books, but thankfully domestic violence is forbidden. I’m so glad I live to see this.
‘I’d like that. By the way I’m Sue.’
* * *
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