The Plantation - Di Morrissey [12]
The twenty-one-year-old Margaret was energetic, overly so, Adelaide thought, and at times she could be a bit too forward, a bit too keen to look for the company of young men rather than learning about the culture of the Old World. While Margaret was a well-raised young lady, who’d been to one of Brisbane’s most prestigious schools, Adelaide Monkton had decided there was something of a rebellious streak in her youthful charge. Where Margaret’s friends and contemporaries were demure, Margaret was rather forthright. Perhaps it was her tall, straight-backed figure, no doubt learned in classes devoted to deportment, but Margaret could appear slightly imperious even for a twenty-one year old.
Was her manner due to the subtle sense of entitlement that was bred into girls from well-to-do families in the small social sphere from where she came, wondered Adelaide? Certainly, she recalled that when they had been introduced into high society in London, Margaret had been unfazed and seemed to fit in perfectly well. Margaret had been seen as a good sport and referred to as that ‘rather fun Australian gel’. Adelaide also noted that Margaret’s vowels had now taken on what Brisbane would consider to be a rather toffy accent. Yes, Adelaide would be glad to hand Margaret back to her parents so she could enjoy some leisurely pursuits.
Margaret sat back in her deck chair and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun, completely unaware that her travelling companion had been analysing her. But soon Margaret, who was quickly bored, got up. ‘I think I’ll go and get ready for luncheon. Shall I see you in our cabin?’
‘Yes, I’ll be down shortly. This is jolly pleasant.’ Adelaide folded her hands, one finger marking the page she was reading, and closed her eyes.
Margaret took a circuitous route to the cabin she shared with her chaperone. Winifred, Margaret’s mother, had declined to take her elder daughter to England since she was not fond of travel. Moreover her younger daughter Bette was in her final year of school and so she had entrusted her elder daughter to an old family friend. The two of them had been away for more than nine months and were now on the final voyage home.
Margaret went into the first class lounge on A deck and then through the music room and peeped into the closed glass doors of the smoke room, which was a reproduction of an old baronial hall complete with a huge fireplace with a large crest above it. Beside the fireplace was a suit of armour and a small museum of medallions and some artifacts that had belonged to Bonnie Prince Charlie. Continuing down the swirl of the red carpeted staircase with its art deco design and fittings, she paused at the small birdcage French lift. It descended to the indoor swimming pool that designer Miss Elsie Mackay had modelled after Roman baths with marble pillars and elaborate mosaic tiles. Adelaide permitted Margaret to bathe there during the sessions set aside for lady swimmers. Adelaide said that it was a more discreet activity than the playful pool games and social activities of the outdoor pool on B Deck.
Back outside on B deck, Margaret pulled off her hat and leaned against the railing, watching the wash of blue water foam away from the curve of the ship’s white hull. On the breeze she heard a burst of laughter, so she went around the corner of a lifeboat to the games deck and saw that there was an energetic game of deck quoits in progress. She recognised some of the younger set, especially the tall figure of Roland Elliott. She stopped to watch, clapping as the game came to an end.
Roland Elliott, dressed in tropical whites, looking flushed but pleased to be on the winning team, came over to her. ‘Hello, Miss Oldham, how cool you look. Jolly hot work out here.’ His accent placed him squarely in a box marked English Public School.
‘It looks a lot of fun. You played awfully well,’ said Margaret.
‘Would you like to join us after lunch for a second tournament challenge?’ he asked. ‘Just for fun, nothing too serious.