Armistice Day

I turn and smile, thinking about our intimate relations the previous evening, but shake my head. "Any girl would have to put up with sleepless nights with me waking and coughing."

"I think you'd wear one another out in other ways first."

She's grinning and considering our rapport, for a moment I think Carmel would make a wonderful companion to spend life with. But she's more than twice my age, and when I think of it like this I realise our affair is crazy. Still, last night was out of this world and I'm more than a little tempted to stay around these parts for a bit longer.

"I hope we get to wear each other out again."

She laughs. "Plenty of work around the house and garden to wear us out."

"You'd make a fine wife for some lucky bloke," I say, grinning. "I'm tempted to stick about."

"I know you're joking, but if I were a much younger woman, I'd contemplate going north with you."

"If you want to, I won't say no."

She laughs. "I know you'd be chasing girls your own age in no time."

"But I'd come home to you each evening," I say with a wink.

"Typical man," she laughs, "Out playing elsewhere when you should be playing at home."

"I don't think I'd have any reason to play elsewhere."

"You would and I'd not blame you either." Her grin is cheeky, accentuating crow's feet lines around her eyes. "I'm forty-eight years old and won't be this good looking for much longer."

"I suspect you will be beautiful forever."

She laughs again, a woman full of joy and laughter. "That's why you must go, so your memories are of me as I am now and not in a few years when I look like a dried prune."

I'm laughing too, placing our breakfast on the table as I sit opposite. We eat with smiles each time our feet touch under the table with a gentle caress, and also we smile when our eyes meet, which is most of the time.

After breakfast Carmel takes our plates and cutlery to the scullery behind the kitchen where the copper's fire is warming the room considerably this early in the morning. I follow, watching her from where I stand at the door, her back to me and bending over the tub as she washes the cooking utensils and our plates and cutlery.

The sight of her big bottom stirs memories of last night, stirring my manhood, and I walk to her, placing hands on her hips and she straightens, my lips gently kissing her neck, then I whisper, "A fella would be lucky to be your husband, even down the track when you're a dried prune."

"Oh, dear," she gasps, letting a plate slide back into the water, and when I reach my arms around her, pressing my body against hers, she places her wet hands over mine, pressing herself back into me. "Oh, my, I sense you're rather happy to see me."

"Very happy to see you, Mrs McCotter," I whisper, gently kissing her ear.

"I have house work to do, young man," she whispers back, waggling her bottom against my engorgement.

"Nothing that can't wait and I promise to help you later."

"After I help you now, right?"

"After we help each other."

Carmel giggles and turns her head, our lips meeting in a soft kiss before parting again. Squeezing my hands in hers and rocking ever so slightly in my arms, she whispers, "You have no idea how much I like this."

"I think I have some idea." We kiss again, my hands breaking free, rubbing up and down her arms, taking her hands again, guiding them to the edge of the trough. "May I?"

"I, um, I suppose...yes." Her voice is breathy, a little flustered perhaps, but she bends over the tub, gripping the rim, pushing her big bottom into me. "Gentle."

Rubbing my hands over her dress, down her sides, over the curve of her bottom, squeezing, she gasps over the steamy tub, and I lift her dress' hem, lowering her undergarments, fumbling with my belt, trousers falling to my feet, then cotton drawers too, my shaft hard and ready, aiming for the special part of her she's willing to share with me, feeling her course hair on my penis when touching her intimate woman parts, feeling her wetness, slowly entering Carmel, pushing into her as she pushes back around me, listening to her breathing, a gasp, her head dropping between her arms, my groin skin against her buttocks and still trying to push together when I'm as far inside her as I can possibly get.

"My Lord," she gasps. "This is new."

With one hand on her pelvis, pulling her into me, I place my other hand on her back, caressing her, over her shoulder, down her arm, and we rock slowly together.

"I could get used to this."

"Oh, Alfie, if I were younger...oh, my...there's a spot where you...yes, that's it!" Our grind is nice and slow, our bodies pushing into one another but barely moving, seemingly as if time stands still. Carmel lets out a gasp or moan each time we push extra hard, her head still between her arms. Eventually she gasps and whispers, "What you're doing to me feels marvellous, but I don't think my arms and legs are going to hold on too much longer."

"Would you like us to stop?"

"No! No, not stop, let's try finish, but maybe be a bit quicker."

I push a little harder. "You'll be able to handle it?"

She gasps when I thrust. "Ahh, yes, please."

She feels amazing, her wet cranny wrapped around my manhood, sharing ourselves with each other, our grind increasingly vigorous, her gasps louder, and soon I'm grunting too.

We're still taking forever, with synchronised thrusts and gasps and grunts, she feels so wonderful, but presently the doorbell rings and Carmel gasps, "Shit, I'm so close, whoever it is will have to go away!"

Ignoring the bell we push each other onward, but the bell rings again and I feel we're so close, but there's a muffled voice calling from the front porch, then Carmel pushes back hard into my thrust, whispering, "Oh my Lord...why does this have to happen now...don't you dare stop."

We don't stop and we do make it, together, the sensations of tingles making my legs all wobbly, spurting my seed deep into Carmel as she twitches and gasps and lets out a moan, and moments later the sound of the front door opening brings on a new urgency, where she pushes me back much harder than our thrusting, causing me to slide from her with a string of our sticky mess falling between us to the floor, and she scrambles for her undergarments.

"Mum," the woman's voice echoes through the house, "Are you home?"

"Put your thing away, quick," Carmel hisses as she adjusts her dress, and I'm already halfway there.

There's a scratching sound on the timber floor and the woman's voice calls again, "Mum?"

"In the scullery, love," Carmel calls out, and she picks up a log with her right hand and feeds it into the small fire under the copper while adjusting her dress with her left. A small brown and black terrier with pointed muzzle and huge pointy ears scrambles around the corner from the hall, surveying the situation as I tuck my shirt into my trousers. The dog and I lock eyes and without further hesitation it yaps a high pitch raspy bark, directed at me.

"Mabel, heel, now!" A woman has stepped into the kitchen, tall and beautiful, with dark brown hair pinned upon her head and holding a large hat in her hand, wearing an elegant black dress. The dog, Mabel, does not heel, still barking at me.

"Shhhh, Mabel," Carmel coos.

"Hey there," I say, bending down, holding out my hand, and the dogs stops barking, coming over to sniff the unfamiliar stranger. Satisfied, she lets me scratch behind her ear. "Good girl, Mabel, good girl."

The woman stands in the kitchen, observing me and her dog interacting, then she turns to Carmel and says, "I didn't realise you had company, Mum."

Carmel steps through to the kitchen and I can see her face is red with beads of moisture upon her forehead. "Susannah, this is Alfred. He's one of the boys I've volunteered to house while he waits for the army to tell him where he's to go next. Alfred, this is my daughter Susannah."

"It's a pleasure," I say, standing and stepping out of the scullery towards her, holding out my hand.

"Oh, yes, Alfred, it sure is a pleasure." Susannah takes my hand and we manage an awkward shake.

Susannah's taller than Carmel, her figure less rounded than her mother, but she has fine curves beneath her black dress all the same and she has her mother's face, however her eyes are a greenish hazel rather than Carmel's brown, meeting mine.

Carmel says, "Alfred was washing up the dishes from breakfast, he's quite handy to have around."

"Didn't you hear the bell?" Susannah asks.

"Oh, I know you have a key and was preoccupied."

"And did you have a late breakfast? It's after nine."

"Oh, I hadn't paid much attention to the time, like I said, I was preoccupied preparing the copper for more water so I could wash some clothing."

Susannah looks at me, seemingly accepting all was as her mother stated. "Have you heard the news? The war is over!"

"Yes," Carmel says, smiling now. "Alfred and I were in town yesterday, I was helping him shop and showing him about when we heard."

Susannah's still scrutinising me. "You're a solider. I imagine you're glad the war is over."

"Very glad, madam. Like we all are. But I'm sorry to hear you lost your husband."

"Yes, well, he was...foolish, I suppose." Her eyes are down cast. "Cornelius said war was a young man's game, but despite being in his thirties he joined up anyway."

Carmel is watching us and she nods. "Very sad, indeed. He was a...gentleman."

Susannah flashes Carmel a look and I'm uncertain of the dynamic between the two, but I act oblivious, changing focus. "Your mother's told me about your two brothers, so hopefully they'll be home sometime soon."

Susannah's eyes brighten. "That's why I came, to share the news of the armistice with Mum. I wasn't sure if she'd heard. Henry and George will be coming home!"

Mother and daughter hug and I give them room to talk by heading out to the garden. Mabel the terrier joins me there, sniffing everything and attacking some of Carmel's vegetables. Eventually it's lunchtime and I join the women in the kitchen, thinking about how only hours before I bent Carmel over the scullery tub, filling her, and now here we were sitting with her daughter as if nothing happened. In a moment of inattention, I smile at Carmel and she raises her eyebrows in reply, shaking her head in warning.

"You will go back to Queensland then?" Susannah asks, drawing my attention back to her.

"Yes, I think so. I visit the doctor again in a couple of weeks and I hope I'll be discharged and allowed to travel home."

"Oh, you must come and visit me before you go. We have a...," she pauses, looks down at her empty plate, then looks back at me. "Cornelius' family own a bathing box down at Brighton Beach and they still allow me to use it. By allow, I mean none of them ever do so anymore and I still have my husband's key. There are sea baths nearby if you like to swim. I'm heading down there this Thursday if you'd accompany me. Do you swim?"

"I swim, but never in the ocean. Where I grew up there are dams and many swimming holes in the creeks."

"The bay is gentle and calm unless there's a storm, in which case we wouldn't swim. What do you say?"

I look to Carmel. "It sounds inviting, perhaps we could all go?"

Carmel shakes her head. "I don't swim, sorry."

"Mum, you don't need to swim, you can lounge on the beach with a book, you know." Susannah then turns to me. "Mum never liked Cornelius or his family and wants nothing to do with their bathing box."

"I'm right here, you know," Carmel says, indignant. "It's not that I didn't like Cornelius. It's the way he took advantage of you."

Susannah looks down again. "He loved me and I loved him."

"Anyway, we shouldn't involve Alfred with these shenanigans."

To be perfectly frank I'm embarrassed and thus glad when the conversation ends. Carmel has filled me in on some detail, where Cornelius was the cousin and solicitor of the lover of her husband Edward, and Cornelius died in France the previous year like so many young Australians, and yet a resentment or animosity between mother and daughter remained.

Later Susannah has left and Carmel slumps into the lounge in the front room. "Would you share a dram of whisky with me?"

"Of course, why not." I pour two and hand over her glass, clinking them, me sitting beside her on the double ended chaise.

"I never drink this much but this is becoming a habit since you arrived, you must think I'm a lush."

"Not at all."

"The whisky was Edward's and I never even opened it till the other night with you." She contemplates me for a moment, then says, "I think it would do you and your lungs well to take a trip to the seaside."

"You...don't mind?"

She laughs. "I encourage you. Go and swim with Susannah at the beach. Last year they legalised mixed bathing. Stupid idea to segregate men and women in the first place, it's unnatural."

"Are you sure you wouldn't want to come?"

"I can't swim and I don't..." Carmel pauses and takes another sip of her whisky. "Susannah was eighteen when she met Cornelius and he was thirty. Like I've told you, he was the solicitor who represented his cousin who was my Edward's lover, when she contested Edward's will. They failed, of course, because I was Edwards wife, but it didn't stop them trying. When he met Susannah years later he knew very well she was Edward's daughter and he never disclosed his connection to the family of her father's lover, and well, it's all history now. But they're another class, the wealthy elite having made money off miners in the gold rush days apparently, yet Cornelius is dead and my daughter is a widow at twenty-four. A somewhat wealthy widow, though the family tried to get their house back from Susannah. Greed runs in their blood, but Susannah's not as naïve as she makes out, and come to think of it, perhaps you should get to know her better. I saw the way you and she looked at one another."

"I was looking at you."

Carmel laughs again, shaking her head. "You couldn't take your eyes of Susannah and I don't blame you. She's a darn sight better looking than I ever was."

"Now that's not true."

"Oh, fooey, she's beautiful and she's a catch if there ever was one."

"Are you trying to set me up with your daughter?"

"Maybe..." Carmel has a cheeky little smile on her lips. "Just this morning you did say something about maybe staying around these parts."

"Just this morning I was conscious of a wet spot in my drawers for an hour or so after my liaison with the scullery maid."

"Oh you cheeky devil, scullery maid indeed! And by gosh you were leaking out of me all morning. We were almost caught red handed. Susannah would've disowned me altogether!"

I reach out and place my hand on her thigh. "So if you still want me to get to know your daughter does it mean you'd no longer like to continue getting to know each other?"

"You should get to know her," she says, picking my hand from her thigh and placing back on my stomach.

"But it would be complicated," I say, reaching out to her again. "I'd always be looking at another woman."

"Typical man." She doesn't remove my hand this time, so I lean across and she accepts my tender kiss. We break away and she looks into my eyes. "It would be complicated."

"I have to return to Queensland," I whisper. "So unless you or she would like to join me, I will be leaving."

"For Mary?"

"For my family, and yes, for Will's family, which is Mary and his son Jack too."

"Of course." She stands and takes my hand. "Come on, let's turn in."

Our loving this night is gentle, taking considerable time, and afterwards we fall asleep together in each other's arms.

~0~

Stepping from the tram on Chapel Street, I can see she's standing where we've agreed to meet.

"Good morning, Susannah."

Susannah turns and smiles, reminding me of Carmel. Except she's at least a head taller than her mother, with brown hair pinned under her broad floppy hat. She carries a canvas bag under her arm and I see Mabel's head sticking out, looking around at everything going on in the busy street. "Morning, Mr Graham."

"Please, call me Alfie."

Her smile is cheeky, like her mother's. "Morning, Mr Alfie."

The tram ride to Brighton is pleasant and so is the company. Occasionally Mabel barks her raucous yapping bark and a few people give us looks of disdain, but Susannah ignores them. The conductor rebukes her as we leave, yet Susannah wins him over with a cheeky smile, telling him, "Oh, I didn't know my doggy wasn't allowed on the tram. No one said anything when we boarded."

"It's quite alright this one time, madam, but don't bring it on again."

"Oh, I'll make sure I won't." The tram's bell dings twice and it rolls away from us. Susannah laughs, "They never see her in the bag until I'm almost at my destination."

"What happens if you run into the same conductor again?"

"I'll flash him a smile and they usually allow Mabel on with a whisper to make sure she stays quiet. Amazing what a man will do if a girl smiles at him, don't you agree?"

I laugh and she smiles and I agree, for right now I think I'd be tempted to her will. I can't help but wonder if she seduced Cornelius rather than the other way round.

The sky is blue with a scatter of white fluffy clouds, and beyond the scrappy coastal bushes the great expanse of Port Phillip Bay reflects the sky above, extending before us to beyond the horizon. A few ships steam out in the channel and closer in shore several boats sail. I've previously only seen Port Phillip from the ship I arrived on, early in the morning darkness as we steamed towards Melbourne Town.

Through the bushes and down the dune is a stretch of beach with a long row of small huts lined up, dozens of them on the sand only a dozen yards from the water's edge. Some huts are brightly coloured, others are plain timber, some well-kept, others ramshackle and falling into disrepair. Most have a pitched roof and all have a door at the front, facing the water, many even having a small platform, like a mini veranda or porch.

"We're not far along here," Susannah tells me, placing Mabel on the sand to run ahead. The little terrier bolts off and I fear we won't see her again, but there she is, jumping onto the timber platform of a bright red hut. "We come here at least once a week. I find it therapeutic to swim in the bay, and to be honest, Cornelius' family never come even if they own the bathing box, so I'm never bothered by anyone."

"Don't you get lonely?"

"Mabel keeps me company."

So she does, the little dog scrambling inside when Susannah unlocks and opens the door. Down the left side is a long bench-seat, a book-case on the rear wall with a few books, bottles of whisky, brandy and gin, a neat stack of plates and a few other knick-knacks. Two folded deck chairs rest against the right hand wall and there is a small table in the corner with several towels folded on top.

"Do you mind waiting outside while I change into my bathers?"

"No, of course not."

Mabel and I sit on the front deck, watching the bay, and eventually Susannah joins us, wearing a fashionable blue and white striped bathing suit falling to her knees like a skirt, and dare I say, reveals her curves nicely, while her chestnut hair falls about her shoulders and down her back.

"Your turn," she says, catching me staring, so I act innocent, heading into the small hut to change into the togs I've borrowed from one of her brothers.

"Race you to the water," she laughs when I'm suitably dressed for swimming, and she takes off, running to the water's edge before I've left the little platform, Mabel running at her heals, yapping away with excitement. I chase and soon we're splashing about, Mabel running up and down the water's edge, barking. The water is cool against my skin, salty too, invigorating.