Free Roundabout at Bangalow by Shirley Walker Page B

… the whole trouble is going to be getting enough stuff to start off with but bugger it if the worst comes to the worst I can get a bit at each store and pop it on. I got Mallams [the doctor’s bill] and it is almost five, pretty solid isnt it. No more bloody bills for me. Anything I cant pay for I do without in future .
    His worst story is of blackmail at work, common during the Depression:
    I am very downhearted this morning. A bloke from Sydney came here the other day and offered to work for less than I am getting and I have had a pretty rough time ever since. He [the boss] told me this morning that if I didn’t get more work in than I am doing I would have to look for another job. God only knows how I stand this sort of thing but I can tell you it sticks in my guts to think that I have to listen to that sort of thing and not say a word back. One of these times I will forget myself and then God knows what will become of us … it makes me bloody near cry when I try to think things out … I feel that way now that I would just as soon clean up all of those Bastards down there and then hump my bluey out of the place. Dont think I am blaming you for this but it kills me to think that that crowd of crawlers can shit on me and rub it in and I cant say one word in defence of myself …
    One year later he has borrowed enough money to buy a hire car, and gone to Tweed Heads, leaving her, once again, with her mother. The car is old and always being repaired. Even though he sleeps in it to save accommodation, he can’t get ahead. Being his own boss is just as bad as being ground down by someone else. It is now November 1926.
    It costs a terrible lot to put a car on the service here. Apart from the drivers license I had to get a Coolangatta town license also a platform license for both there and Tweed Heads. I have to get a Tweed Shire license and a Murwillumbah Municipal license. All these cost 22/- each … It is bloody lonely up here, the only one I know is Tom Tranter and he goes out with a different tart every night. He is out with a grass widow tonight. I dont know how he will get on but he expects great things of her. In case you dont know what a grass widow is you are one yourself …
    A grass widow is a woman whose husband is away, either working or absconded. It’s not surprising then that by 10 December she is demanding to join him. He attempts to put her off until after the Christmas season when accommodation will be much cheaper. There are hints that the trouble between them is not all his fault. It seems that she is never contented, and he doesn’t expect things to be any better this time.
    I have tried everywhere and it is impossible to get board under £3 a week each during the holidays. As for coming up here just at present, well its madness because at Xmas time I will never be at home and I know that that wont suit you but for goodness sake dont come up here till I get some money to pay for our board … If you would wait until a week after Xmas we could get a furnished flat for next to nothing but just now the prices are out of the question … if you are going to persist in rushing up here just when I cant fix up things for you I might as well go back to old Bulgies and work my bloody guts out all day and night. I wouldnt mind near so much if I knew you would be willing to stop but I know very well that as soon as the novelty wears off everything you will get dissatisfied and want to go home again. In the meantime as soon as I get any money I will send you some if it is only a quid …
    The last letter in this series is dated 16 December 1926, her twentieth birthday, but he forgets it, concentrating on his own bad luck:
    Just a line to let you know how unlucky I am. On Thursday I got a ring up to go to Piggabeen and pick a bloke up there. It was a 30/- job so off I went in the rain and just as I got there my engine went bung and that is 9 miles from town. I had to