Prologue
I’d only just stepped off the train and the place overwhelmed me with an excess of emotions.
The roof above was lined with sparkling tin and strongly welded beams built in to support the weight of the structure, the moss and grime crawling higher from their dampened corners on the large glistening windows. The whole station was lively with coffee-buzzed commuters, impatient children and the odd tired traveller navigating their way with heavy steps, the employees full with inviting smiles for the new coming tourists. The place echoed with the never dying chatter of questioning passengers and guides.
Organising myself, my shoulder- sling bag hung comfortably down by my waist. The melancholy blue stood brightly against my black short-sleeved dress and overlapping loose-knit, beige cardigan. I clutched at it tightly, my fingers wrapping around the silver chains connecting the strap to the bag, my other hand on the extendable handle of my suitcase, decorated with a fine, black laced fabric over top of the dark cargo green underneath.
Taking a small breath, I let out a quiet sigh full of content. Memories of the city flooded my mind exciting me. I found my way to what seemed to be the centre of the station, a large gold plated clock attracting my attention: 6pm. I approached the front of the entrance and stood before the footpath staring up in awe. It was dark, but that only meant that the lights could glitter profusely brighter, Red, white and yellow lit up the roads along with the people surrounding them. I couldn’t help but smile; this is what I fell in love with.
I put my hand up shyly at the first oncoming taxi that I assumed was free, and to my luck it was. Yellow, it seemed strange yet familiar. The taxi driver popped the trunk and lifted my suitcase in to sit snugly. I thanked him and took my seat in the back of the vehicle, gazing out the window at the traffic. After the driver took his own seat, he closed the door trapping in the warmth coming form the slow breeze of the heater, “Where to?” The driver asked his voice was raspy and foreign; my best guess was Italian.
Realising i had been asked a question I shook my head briefly coming back to the sense of the real world, my hands now digging into the soft silk walls of my bag. It was designed with metallic stripes of grey-beige and deep brown. It was a small bag, cramped with my glasses, wallet and peppermint-breathe mints. They rattled around as I searched for the address of my new studio apartment. I handed the posted-note sized piece of paper to the driver “I’m new to the city, if you could just take me here thanks” I looked down at the words scribed on the note and back to the driver’s eyes. They were gold hazel, fitting for his bristled cheeks and scruffed hair.
“Easy” he stated. Turning the keys, the engine startled on. That one word reassured me that it was a legitimate address; I’d only seen a picture of it on a website, tempting the idea that it was risky, but that only made it all the more exciting. I suppose I should have visited before weighting everything on its existence. “Welcome to Melbourne” he angled his face towards me keeping his eyes on the busy roads ahead of him. He grinned as he spoke, a little too sheepishly for me.
It startled me when the taxi had come to a stop within the middle of a trading district. We were surrounding by the murmur of heels and boots against the cement, the street lined with restaurants of both savoury and sweet flavours.
The driver left the vehicle running as he stepped outside, leaving the door wide open almost asking for the leather inside to be sprayed with water droplets from the nearing rain clouds. Seeing as we had stopped, I dipped my fingers into the door handle and waited for the familiar sound that told me it was ready to swing open. I lifted myself outside of the vehicle and was welcomed with ice filled wind, pinching my skin through my stockings as it hit me. “Are you sure this is the right address?” my voice becoming shaky as I looked before me.
The windows were dark, blocking any visual of people inside but let the stray, bronze glow of hanging lights peep through at its top.
“Of course it is girl. You think I don’t know my way around?” he sounded offended as he dropped my suitcase onto the concrete. The plastic wheels making a clapping sound as it hit the paved concrete underneath. The car creaked, rising slightly after he closed the trunk. His boots hitting the asphalt heavily as he stomped back around so he could make his way into the new warmth of the taxi.
Leaning across the front passenger seat, he rested his hand on top of the half opened window. “Eighteen-fifty” his fingers flicked back to his palms gesturing for money,
“Hm?” questioning him for a second “Oh yeah, sorry” figuring that he was waiting for something, i was reminded that taxi’s have a fare involved. The plastic of my wallet was cool in my grasp as I pulled it out of my bag. I searched around for some cash seeing as after glimpsing, he didn’t seem to have a portable eftpos located anywhere that I could see. “Here” I passed over a ten and a five, now scouring my bag for loose coinage which I didn't seem to have.
“You’re missing four dollars” rounding the number up, his tone was becoming impatient.
“I only have a fifty” I apologised, handing him the yellow note. It was a big sum of money for small amount needed so I waited patiently as my eyes were drawn to my apparent address. A sign hung above, easier to be read by passing pedestrians than road. Cleighton’s was printed in delicate, black handwriting, indented into a white matte background.
My thoughts were led astray by the sign, still wondering what i had gotten myself into, soon broken by the clinking sound of coins falling into my hand which I had left to rest upon the opened window. I drew my hand back to my chest and inspected the amount given, twisting my torso unknowingly back to the taxi driver, I stood on an angle in disgust. “Hey wait, you only gave me three dollars!” Lifting my eyes he had already driven off, moulding into the rest of the yellow taxi’s driving past.
I sighed in distaste, slouching down my shoulders, my mouth gaped open. “This isn’t what you do to new comers!” I shouted angrily, my mouth upturned. It was only until I heard the clacking of heels behind me that I came to realise I’m not alone. That I was on a street filled with people of all ethnics thinking I was weird. Fretting, I grabbed hold of my suitcase and lugged it closely.
I stood there looking at the cracks in the ground, noticing that the weeds were starting to sprout their ugly heads along with new growth of moss. I was in an older part of Melbourne so the ground wasn’t as up kept and fancy as you would now normally see. My eyes then focused to the movement of passing shoes, looking left and then right as if I was crossing the road. A small gap meant i was good to go and so I walked through to the window of “Cleighton’s”, dodging past the pushes and shoves as I went.
Next to me stood a small blackboard stand, decorated with coloured chalk, making the place somewhat more inviting. I half-heartedly smiled and made my way to the door, pushing my sweaty palms against the cold glass. It created a white shadow tracing the placement of my palm, fading
away to nothing as I elevated my hand away from it.
A/N: Happy Birthday Starish!!
