The Sausage Tree by Rosalie Medcraft

Even now after all these years we cannot stand the sight or smell of castor oil, but wish we had all of those purply-blue bottles that we gladly smashed on the rubbish heap behind the dunny.
    Years later Valda went to work in the big general store and when a customer asked for castor oil they couldn’t understand why she would get a strange look on her face, take a piece of paper and make a blind grab for the bottleon the shelf. She couldn’t bring herself to touch it. The castor oil cure was used over fifty years ago and just recalling it makes us shudder.

7
Christmas—our style
    We always looked forward to the holidays but in a way also dreaded them because Mum was never really well as it took her many years to recover from the burst abscess which later needed further surgery. We had to be careful not to make too much noise or have too many extra kids in the yard, but we could always tell when Mum was having a “good day”. She had a strong, true soprano singing voice and it was always a pleasure to hear her singing the old songs. “Danny Boy” and “Beautiful Dreamer” were two of her favourites and she used to sing for hours. When she wasn’t well she’d yell out “You kids behave yourselves, I’ve got a headache.” How familiar that speech came to be as unbeknown to her doctors, Mum was also suffering from Paget’s disease. This affected her skull, hips and legs, and being a rare complaint at that time, was not diagnosed until 1954, some twelve years later.
    School holiday times were different to those of today.Summer holidays started in the third week of December and finished at the end of January. School always started on the Tuesday after the Australia Day long weekend. In later years this was extended by another three weeks into February.
    Christmas was a very exciting time and we spent a great deal of time wishing and hoping for all sorts of things we’d like for Christmas. We wished for a bike, a tea-set or perhaps a sleeping doll dressed in beautiful clothes. We fantasised about all the wonderful toys we might get from Santa, just like other kids got. All the wishing and hoping in the world would never have brought our dreams into reality, we had no concept of rich or poor—the haves and the have-nots. While our playmates received bikes and dolls prams complete with new celluloid dolls dressed in pretty clothes, we usually got a rag doll, a new dress or undies, a tin of lollies and maybe a jigsaw puzzle.
    Dad made some toys for Wilma and Peter. One year he made a two-wheeled dolls pusher for Wilma. He painted it a pretty blue and it took Wilma about six years to realise that it was painted the same colour as the bedroom suite he had made for them. For Peter he made wooden trucks and trains to add to the collection he played with on the woodheap.
    We always bought Mum a Christmas present with the little bit of money we earned doing chores for other people. We would spend ages wandering around the shop looking for a very special gift. After our purchase we’d hurry home, wrap it very carefully in brown paper, tie it tightly with string and hide it in our wardrobe.
    On Christmas Day we would proudly give Mum her little parcel. She would look surprised, smile and say “thank you”. Then, as she did with birthday presents, she would go through the same frustrating routine. She would sit in her chair and slowly and carefully undo every knot in the stringwhich she then tied in a bow ready to put in the “string tin”. Then without tearing the paper she’d carefully unwrap our wonderful gift. We would get a little hug and another thank-you. How graciously Mum accepted our gifts, even though she must have been terribly disappointed that she had received another glass jam or butter dish to put in the cupboard with all the others we had bought her. These were the only things that we could buy with our Iittle bit of money.
    Christmas