Free The Year It All Ended by Kirsty Murray

had sewn tiny artificial seed pearls onto the hem. Ma brought out the lace veil that she’d worn at her own wedding and placed it in Nette’s hands. Pa gave Ray a beautifully bound copy of his and Louis’ favourite novel, David Copperfield , as a way of welcoming him into the family, though they all knew that Ray wasn’t really a reader like Louis and Papa. But the wedding reception wasn’t a glorious affair. Now that the influenza epidemic had spread across Adelaide, many of the guests were too frightened to attend. Schools were closed, half the city had shut down, fever tents had been pitched in the parks and the Alstons had postponed their Victory Ball.
    At the height of summer, the garden at Larksrest couldn’t help but look dull, though at least the wisteria was still in bloom on the front verandah. Tiney and Thea decorated the lychgate with white ribbons, bows and a silver horseshoe. But when they returned from the church, Tiney looked up and saw that the horseshoe had slipped askew and was hanging the wrong way, with the tips pointing downward, as if all the young couple’s future happiness would pour away onto the path.
    In the front parlour, Tiney, Minna and Thea waited on the wedding party. Ray’s only relatives were an uncle and aunt that he didn’t seem to know particularly well. Tante Bea and Onkel Ludwig had come down from the Barossa and sat quietly in the front parlour of Larksrest with Paul between them, as if they were being careful to make sure he said nothing to upset Nette on her wedding day. Mama sat with Tante Bea too. Apart from Ida only two of Nette’s friends from the Cheer-Ups had braved the quarantines and come along.
    When Tiney came back to the parlour with a second tray of cucumber sandwiches, she realised that Papa had left the room. Where was he? Didn’t he understand that this could be the last time all his daughters were together under their father’s roof?
    When she opened the door to his study, she found Papa slumped at the desk, a letter open before him.
    ‘What is it, Pa? You should be with our guests,’ said Tiney.
    ‘I am missing your brother today,’ said Papa. Tiney saw the official War Office letterhead and felt a flicker of alarm. But it couldn’t be bad news. There was no worse news than losing Louis.
    ‘They still don’t know where he’s buried.’ Papa tapped the letter and read out a passage: ‘ The only information yet available is the brief advice “ died of wounds on 18.9.18 ” . ’
    All day, every day, Papa sat at his desk, working on his scrapbook of Louis’ life or writing letters to find out what had happened to him in his last weeks alive. Papa wrote to the International Red Cross. He wrote to the AIF. He wrote to the Minister for Defence. Always the same six questions: what was the address of Louis’ commanding officer, how did he receive his fatal wounds, where was he wounded and how had he died, who were the doctor and nurse in attendance, and where was he buried? He always added, ‘Any further particulars?’ as if there was one particular detail that might help to make sense of what had happened to his only son.
    ‘They’ll send us something more eventually, Papa,’ said Tiney. ‘Come back to the party, please. It’s Nette’s day today. She’ll be leaving for Cobdolga soon and you must be there when we give her and Ray their wedding gift.’
    Papa nodded but he didn’t move. Back in the parlour, Tiney discovered that Ray’s uncle and aunt had left already, though it was considered bad luck for guests to leave before the bride and groom. Mama beckoned everyone to gather around the table on which the wedding presents had been laid out. There was a set of bone-handled cutlery from Tante Bea and Onkel Ludwig, a rather ordinary-looking teapot from Ray’s uncle and aunt, an Irish linen tablecloth from the Alstons; but the biggest gift stood at the back of the table, draped in a red velvet shawl. At a nod from Mama, Minna pulled back