Song for Emilia. Julia Osborne

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      ‘Gee, it’s good to get here,’ Emilia said. ‘That’s the longest trip ever, ’cause men were working on the train line halfway from Curradeen. Nine whole hours! Ooh, my bottom’s sore from sitting—’

      Sandra chipped in with a laugh, ‘Come on, I’ll show you where you’re sleeping,’ She lead the way down the hall. ‘Prue’s given you her room while she stays at a girlfriend’s.’

      She hoisted Emilia’s suitcase onto the bed. A heavy red suitcase with shiny metal clasps – so different from the old brown port Emilia had lugged to school every day. Sandra took in the changes: a different, very pretty, quite grown-up Emilia, with all the characteristics of her dark-haired, dark- eyed Italian parents. Well, she thought, I did once call her Gina Lollobrigida.

      Emilia rolled her eyes as she scanned Prue’s wall of cut-out photos: Buddy Holly, Johnny O’Keefe in his gold jacket, a handsome Ricky Nelson. ‘I like Elvis the Pelvis better than all them ... ’ she remarked. ‘Mamma calls him a bodgie. He’s real dreamy looking, but.’

      It was Prue’s room and Sandra was irked by Emilia’s scornful opinion of her posters. ‘They won’t keep you awake,’ she said. ‘Let’s get a glass of cordial—’

      ‘I’d rather have tea. Mrs Morgan’s mum always makes us a cup of tea when I get home from college.’ Swinging her foot Emilia hummed Return to Sender.

      Sandra put teapot and cups on the kitchen table. After their hugs and cheerful greetings, words were hard to find. So much time had passed – two years since she’d waved goodbye to her friend on the train back to Curradeen – an Emilia loaded with shopping from her first visit to Sydney.

      As they drank their tea, she began to wonder if it was a mistake to have invited Emilia to stay after New Year. Their lives were so different now, running along different tracks in different cities. Gradually their regular letters had dwindled to one every few weeks. What was there to write about, anyway?

      ‘Lofty’s going to Melbourne uni, did I tell you? He’s doing a B.A. and he wants to teach.’

      ‘He’ll be a good teacher,’ Sandra mused. ‘He was always good in school debates and curious about everything.’

      Emilia put down her cup. ‘I’ve got some more news,’ she said. ‘You know how I said once I want to help people – people like Nick after his car accident when he couldn’t walk and had to keep going to Melbourne for treatment? When I graduate and go back to Curradeen there’ll be a job for me in the new clinic. They said so.’

      This was even worse than Emilia living with Nick’s grandparents in Melbourne. As long as Nick was in Sydney, at least he and Sandra were in the same city. She tried to look interested as Emilia kept on chatting about her plans.

      ‘Mamma and Pa are very happy about it, because I’ll be back home again. Nonna’s getting real old now and my brothers have gone to work at Gillespie’s, so they’re no help.’

      ‘That’s good,’ Sandra agreed. ‘Your parents will be happy.’ But I won’t, she thought, feeling dismal. Now Emmy would get to see Nick whenever he drove into town on his holidays.