A Kunanalling Mothers' Day Lunch

The day dawned with a soft light, streaming through her shutters like a caressing touch. The searing heat of another Goldfields' summer was behind and the winter cold had yet to bite. Recent rain had settled the dust and there was a smattering of green popping up through the ground’s surface.

Jessie smiled. “Gran” had allowed her a lie in until seven o’clock, due to her increasing girth. Jessie was thankful that “Gran” Kelly was her boss every day of the week. She was tough, but fair and knew that keeping her girls in the relative remoteness of Kunanalling meant she needed to treat the staff with respect.

The Premier had already sprung to life. Breakfast was in full swing in the parlour. They’d had an agreeably comfortable number of guests overnight, so Eliza was already cleaning and making up the rooms for the next visitors. Pierre, the Frenchie in charge of the kitchen, was notoriously short-tempered and more than likely to give the scullery maid Ruby a clip around the ear if she displeased him. Ruby wasn’t keen on receiving a clip around the ear, so she raced around the kitchen following Chef’s orders in his broken English as fast as she could.

Emily rocketed in the bedroom she shared with Jessie to change her apron after the morning rush. Jessie was ready to join the others in the kitchen for the staff breakfast. In spite of his irascible nature, Pierre genuinely was fond of his “girls”, including Ruby. He piled their plates with bacon and eggs, tomatoes from the garden and even a few mushrooms. Pierre was doing his very best to widen their palates and bring some new tastes to the Goldfields.

“Gran” remained in the bar, organising the day’s programme. Along with her famous counter meals (so the blokes weren’t self-conscious in their dusty clothes), she was introducing a new initiative. Mother’s Day had been the brainchild of one Janet Heyden, a Sydneysider with the concept of giving elderly mothers a gift each on the second Sunday in May. “Gran” had read about the idea in a magazine and had chosen to introduce a Mothers’ Day lunch in the Premier’s parlour.  

Life in Kunanalling was tough. Money was tight. The men worked the gold mining leases in often brutal conditions. A few of the men were shop keepers, along with the copper, the school teacher and the minister.  Women bore the brunt of keeping the basic houses as clean and dust free as possible, cooking enough for their growing families and keeping disease at bay. As a result, most Kunanalling women were perpetually exhausted. The enterprising “Gran” had advertised the lunch at a price that all the married men could afford. Hence, the parlour was fully booked for Mothers’ Day.

The preparations began. Eliza finished the rooms in a quick-smart fashion. “Gran” gave out her directions. Emily and Eliza would set the tables in the parlour, polish the good silver with a bit of spit and polish and check the crockery. Jessie would assist Ruby and Pierre in the kitchen, chopping the vegetables, shelling the peas, stewing the apples and the most important Sunday job of all – making the ice cream.

Although time-consuming, Jessie was strong and she was able to sit down. She worked the churn until the ice cream was mixed. Then the contents went straight into the centre of the Kalgoorlie Iceworks block. Jessie knew from experience the ice cream would freeze in time. The day was cool enough. “Gran’s” ice cream was a favourite in the town and people would come for miles around.

All was in readiness. Couples began arriving, dressed in their best clothes. The lunch included a beer for the men and a shandy for the ladies. The girls had been given the task of sewing handkerchiefs for the ladies over the last few months. “Gran” had managed to obtain some beautiful linen at a bargain price from Kalgoorlie so each lady would receive an embroidered handy as their Mother’s Day gift.

Needless to say, lunch was a triumph. Pierre’s roast beef and Yorkshire pudding were cooked perfectly, due to the happy reliability of having electricity in the Premier. The servings were generous and the steaming apple crumble and ice cream were both greeted with tremendous applause.

“Gran” insisted on lining the staff up in the parlour. There was no stuffiness at the Premier. All the girls beamed and curtsied. Pierre curled his moustache and bowed. More thunderous clapping.

Jessie was already tired but she straightened her shoulders, as the staff began clearing the tables. She could hear the squeals of laughter from the children playing in the street. Couples were sipping tea on the verandah.

And then, Jamie walked into the parlour with a straggly bunch of bush flowers for her…