A Somewhere South of Capricorn excerpt

IAustralia House proved to be a massive rockpile on the Strand, right on the corner of Aldwych Street. That’s in London, of course. It didn’t look the slightest bit Australian except for a kangaroo and some big bird I didn’t recognise on a sort of statue thing over the doorway. Of course, the bird turned out to be an emu. I got to know them all too well later and even tried fisticuffs with one and learnt that they don’t employ Marquis of Queensberry rules. But back to my story. The building itself was meant to impress, and it certainly impressed me, naïve bumpkin that I was. My visit convinced me that everyone in Australia must be rich.

Inside, it only enhanced the impression of wealth. The floor was of two-tone patterned marble that made you think you should be tiptoeing across it. Above, a chain of chandeliers the shape of onions led the eye past bronzed pillars to a service desk of dark, highly polished timber.

At first glance, the man behind the counter didn’t look any different to your everyday clerk. He wore a smart navy-blue suit with a narrow pinstripe, and he had a typically brusque way about him. He wore those half-spectacles that you peer over, and it made him look perpetually surprised. It was only when he opened his mouth that his antipodean origin became obvious. Nowadays, it’s just normal, but that first brush with the Aussie accent was a bit confronting. It reminded me that I was proposing to go to a different world.

‘May I help you?’ he asked, then went on to prove he was a mind reader. ‘If it’s assisted migration you’re after, you’ll need to take a ticket and wait until your number’s called.’ He handed me a ticket with the number seventy-seven on it. I hoped there weren’t seventy-six ahead of me and took a seat where I could watch proceedings; there didn’t seem to be anything like that number of loiterers hovering around. I had plenty of time to take in the hallowed halls of Australia House. The interior was quite pretentious. I remember, even after all these years, that it smacked of excessive ambition. That’s Australia for you! The pillars holding up a curved ceiling, the ornate chandeliers, and the spectacular marble floor were all designed to show the mother country that her furthest minion had wealth and power. The décor was all overblown, but it certainly worked on me! I was mightily impressed.

‘Seventy-seven!’