I left school after Intermediate and started working at Myer(s). It felt so grown up to be wearing that black uniform: the ladies in their finery, coming and going.
My girlfriends used to call me a flirt. They had it wrong; I just liked being around moustached men. It was probably my brother’s Air Force growth – it extended well beyond his cheeks, curling down at the ends, always his pride and joy. I had consequently come to place a certain measure of a man’s worth by his facial hair. Henry’s moustache got my attention.
I started work on the second floor, in Lingerie. Lift operator Henry’s hirsute offerings set my mind a-tingle. He sat on a little three-legged stool in the corner of the wood-paneled elevator. He slid open the grille door, reminding us to “Watch your step, Ladies”, then engaged the circular brass controller to transport us: left sent us down to the Ground Floor; to the right, up to our individual floors.
We girls often took extra trips, just to engage Henry. His left leg gently thumped the floor in time to some inwardly followed beat, his right stump had the trouser leg deftly tucked back under the knee, and pinned. He wore a neat row of medal miniatures on his left chest.
I knew there was something special about that moustache, and the man behind it. If I got to work fifteen minutes early, I had Henry to myself. He sometimes stopped the lift mid-floor, we chatted, our conversations increasingly moving towards our shared interests. I mentioned my brother, in the Air Force at the end of the War. I once even bought his Swagger Stick to work – a conversation piece, that upon reflection, was a bit silly. Henry volunteered that he had had one too, once, but he would not be drawn on his military service, or amputation.
I had to share him at ‘elevenses, as we girls rode up to the 3rd floor Cafeteria – Staff Section, but I sensed he especially liked me. His hand once darted out to steady me as I stumbled at the cage door – such soft hands. I stumbled a few times in the weeks ahead.
I occasionally rode the lift during business hours, listening to his spiel: “Level One, Women’s Fashions”, then “Level Two – Lingerie, Shoes, Accessories ”; then Cafeteria; Furnishings; Haberdashery; Kitchenware; Men’s Fashions, and on up to the spectacular transformation of the top floor at Christmas – Santa’s Cave and the Toy Department.
Henry had an invaluable sense of the customer, even a lift full of excited four-year-olds and was able to adjust his patter accordingly. I was dazzled.
I was working up the courage to invite him out for tea, to our local Café, but he disappeared. I came to work on Monday and a clean-shaven face greeted me! “Nah, Henry left last Friday. I’m not sure, but I think someone said this morning that he had had to go up to Sydney. My name’s Trevor.”