Heritage by Judy Nunn Page B

influx of Snowy children had rendered the town’s only public school sadly inadequate, and the new school was still under construction, so, on weekdays, canvas partitions were erected in the hall to form makeshift classrooms. Draughty in the cold, stuffy in the heat, they had earned the title ‘Tent City’ from teachers and students alike. But, uncomfortable as the conditions were, it was evident to all that the ever-versatile pavilion was once again proving itself invaluable to the people of Cooma.
    Peggy was at the far end of a queue of several women working at the large kitchen bench. She was carving a leg of mutton, and the dexterity with which she handled the huge knife seemed at odds with the neat, sharp-featured little woman that she was. Standing there in her neat apron and her tidy floral dress, her tidy brown hair secured in a severe bun at the nape of her neck, her butcher-like expertise with the carving knife was most incongruous.
    Peggy Minchin, upon first impression, was not unattractive; rather, she was unapproachable. To most, she appeared a mixture of frosty and fragile, when, in truth, she was neither. She was feisty, outspoken, and above all efficient. Peggy Minchin was efficient at everything she tackled, which today included carving mutton. Shaving away at the leg, she was nearly down to the bone, and a pile of meat lay neatly stacked on the cutting board beside her.
    The women were making sandwiches in conveyor-belt fashion, one slicing the loaves of bread, another buttering the slices and adding homemade chutney, the third in the line inserting Peggy’s freshly sliced mutton and cutting the thick sandwiches in two. The final member of the group, the young daughter of one of the women, ran to and fro with fresh supplies and, when there was a substantial pile of sandwiches, she collected them on a platter for sale at the counter, where another team of ladies was making and serving tea from a large urn in the corner.
    â€˜G’day, Lucky love.’ The big woman slicing the bread didn’t halt in her actions, but gave him a breezy grin and a jerk of the head. ‘She’s up the end there.’
    â€˜Thank you, Edna. Good afternoon, ladies.’ Lucky nodded politely to each of them, receiving tight smiles of recognition from Mavis and Vera. It wasn’t that they disapproved of Lucky himself. Lucky was well respected among the locals. He’d been working for the Snowy for years now and was one of the better assimilated foreigners. Extremely so, in fact: his English was perfect. But Mavis and Vera could not condone the relationship that appeared to have developed between Lucky and Peggy Minchin over the past several months.
    â€˜He’s courting her!’ Vera had said disbelievingly when the two had been spotted around town several weekends in a row, dancing to the band at the Snowy Mountains Inn, or gathered around the piano at Dodds, Peggy leading the singalong.
    â€˜ She’s courting him , you mean,’ Mavis had retorted, outraged. ‘Brazen, I call it. She’s a schoolteacher ! It’s shameful.’
    â€˜And he’s a German , what’s more.’
    They both agreed that made it far worse.
    Mavis and Vera were not the only ones who disapproved. Several parents of local children had complained to the school. ‘Teachers are expected to set a good example,’ they maintained, and the principal had been reluctantly forced to suggest to Peggy, with all the tact he could muster, that she be a little more ‘discreet’ in her private life. Peggy had asked no questions, she knew just what he was talking about and her response had been simple. If she couldn’t keep company with whoever she wished, she said, then she would seek employment elsewhere. The principal, who’d had no argument with the situation in the first place, hastily backed down. Cooma was desperately in need of teachers. They couldn’t afford to lose one,