‘I was terrified of my father and told Bobby we had to run away’

We had our ups and downs. We’re opposites: I’m the fiery one and he’s quiet. He won’t argue. Many a time, I’d pack my bags and walk down to the wood heap in the garden. I’d sit down there, sulk and cool off. I had nowhere to go. I’d just swallow my pride, go back and get on with it. By the time our second baby came, I’d sorted myself out.

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My father didn’t talk to me for 16 years. One day, I got a letter and recognised his handwriting. I burst into tears thinking something had happened to my mother: “Dear Janet and Bobby and as many children as you have … I want you to come home.” I still have it. Bobby and I took the whole family to visit for Christmas. In the end, my father thought the world of him and we had good years together.

Bobby’s a devoted family man. I get annoyed when he doesn’t wear his hearing aid and I have to walk all the way out to his shed and yell for dinner. We’ve been together since 1957. In 2012, I made Bobby a memory quilt. I wrote on the back: “I loved you then, I love you now and I’ll love you forever.”

Bobby: The first time I saw Janet, she was talking to a truckie on the street. She gave me a strange look. Then I bumped into her and shouted her a Coke in the cafe. We started talking. She was allowed out on Fridays, so we went to the pictures. We had a double seat right up the back so we could cuddle. I can’t remember the movie; we were too busy kissing.

Janet was the best-looking sort in town. When I left to go working round Broken Hill, I didn’t see her for about 18 months. But she was waiting for me when I got back to Naracoorte. I walked into the dry cleaner’s where she was working and we started up again.

When Janet wanted to run away, I said I’d do whatever she wanted to do. I sold my watch to the bloke at the garage at the corner, who gave me three quid. That got us two tickets on the train to Adelaide. My aunty loaned us another £3 for the bus tickets to Broken Hill.

“Janet was the best-looking sort in town … When she wanted to run away, I said I’d do whatever she wanted.”

Bobby Shamroze

It was hard work on the wool press. I was away for three weeks to get the £200 deposit for the house and £75 for the lawyer. Then I’d come home on weekends and work on the house. We still live in it.

When we got married, we left the two girls with a neighbour. We told her we were going out for tea but, in the end, she knew. She was one of the few who knew. Married women weren’t allowed to work in Broken Hill in those days and I earned enough to keep us all.

When we went back to Naracoorte after 16 years to see Janet’s father and mother, he had the gate open and hugged Janet. He shook my hand and said sorry and everything was sweet as Harry. After that, he’d come here all the time.

She’s still the same little Janet. She worries about me and looks after me. If I’m doing something like working in the heat, she goes crook at me. I don’t take any notice. I don’t say anything and then it’s over and done with.

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These days, I keep busy doing odd jobs for the children and looking after the Broken Hill Mosque Museum. People call up and, if I can, I’ll drop everything to open up the museum.

I explain its history, talk about the cameleers and my own family. In the early days, the mosque was on the outskirts of town. The camel train would pull up outside and the cameleers would rest. They prayed before setting off again. People can still pray there.

Janet’s a good mother and a good wife and does everything for the kids and grandkids; we have seven grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren. She loves me and I love her. We’d be lost without each other.

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