Ocean Child

by Tamara McKinley

  ‘You must have complete bed rest for at least eight weeks,’ he replied. ‘The anaesthetic will keep you sleepy for a while, and once it wears off, I will prescribe stronger pain relief.’

  Clarice closed her eyes, and when she next opened them she found Vera sitting in the chair next to her bed with her knitting. She took in the sensible hat and overcoat and the dour expression and dredged up a wan smile. ‘Thank you, Vera,’ she whispered.

  ‘No need to thank me, Mum,’ she said gruffly, as she dumped her knitting in a bag. ‘You fair scared the life out of me, lying there on the floor, I don’t mind telling you.’ She sniffed and eyed the private room with disdain. ‘This place could do with a good clean, and no mistake.’

  Clarice didn’t have the energy to argue or even talk, so she let her ramble on. It felt as if something heavy was pressing on her chest, making her breathless, and she was very hot. Thankfully the tablets were working on the pain in her hip, but she did feel strange – as if she was drifting.

  ‘D’you want me to send a telegram to Lulu?’ asked Vera, ‘only I think she should be told what’s …appened.’

  ‘No. I forbid it,’ rasped Clarice. She sank back into the pillows, the coughing fit leaving her exhausted.

  Vera pulled a face. ‘If you say so, Mum. But if you die, she won’t …alf be cross I didn’t tell …er.’

  Clarice closed her eyes as sleep enticed her. Vera always looked on the dark side of things, and as she had no intentions of dying just yet, she certainly didn’t want Lorelei bothered by her silly accident.

  Warrego Station

  The heat shimmered on the horizon in a watery mirage, its intensity making the earth hum. The sky was the clearest blue, with a solitary cloud poised over the nearby hills, and here, in the shade of the gum trees, Lulu could hear the sibilant hiss of numerous insects. It didn’t feel strange at all that it would soon be Christmas, and she was looking forward to celebrating it in the sun for the first time in too many years.

  She examined the drawing she had just finished, and set it aside. The tree had been an interesting subject, the bark peeling away like paper to reveal red gashes, the branches bent like arthritic hands to the blazing sky as if in supplication. ‘It’s too hot,’ she sighed. ‘My hands are so sweaty they’re leaving marks on the paper. Even the pencil is melting.’

  ‘Wonderful, isn’t it?’ sighed Dolly. ‘Just think, it’s probably below zero back in London.’ She was stretched out on a blanket, hands behind her head, staring up into the canopy of trees. She was dressed, like Lulu, in boots, trousers and shirt, and her borrowed hat had been slung on to the blanket beside her. ‘What I wouldn’t do for our swimming pool at home. I’d sit in it up to my neck and stay there for weeks on end.’

  ‘You’d get horribly wrinkled,’ laughed Lulu, as she lay beside her and munched on a sandwich. They had brought a picnic with them, and the two horses were hobbled nearby. ‘It’s funny,’ she said, ‘but I almost miss the uncertainty of the English weather.’

  ‘Me too,’ murmured Dolly. ‘But it does get very cold here at night, which sort of makes up for it.’ She opened one eye and regarded Lulu. ‘Don’t tell me you’re actually homesick for England?’

  Lulu rolled on to her elbow, her head propped up by her hand. ‘I am, in a way,’ she admitted, ‘but I miss Tasmania more.’ She gazed at the view through the trees. ‘This has been an incredible experience, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’ She paused. ‘But despite the way this place has inspired me and given me something to cherish, I know I don’t belong here.’

  Dolly sat up. ‘But I thought—’

  ‘I’m not saying I don’t belong in Australia,’ Lulu said hurriedly. ‘I’m just saying I don’t feel I fit in here – in the Outback.’ She smiled and shrugged. ‘I thought I would – after all, my family is here – but this is not my world, and I would soon feel imprisoned.’

  Dolly’s eyes widened. ‘In all this space?’

  Lulu laughed. ‘It does sound silly, doesn’t it? But the isolation is a kind of prison – there’s little chance of escape – and with the men out all day, sometimes for weeks, a woman would get very lonely.’

  ‘I suppose so, but if I lived here, I’d be out with the men. It’s far more exciting and rewarding than housework.’

  ‘Housework? You haven’t done a stroke of housework since you were born,’ she spluttered. She eyed her friend with interest. ‘You’ve really taken to this life, haven’t you?’

  Dolly nodded, her expression contented and dreamy. ‘I feel useful for the first time in my life,’ she replied. ‘It’s satisfying to work hard all day and know your muscles are aching because you’ve actually achieved something.’ She flopped back on to the blanket. ‘Looking back, I can see how empty my life has been – and how pointless – rushing from one party to the next, keeping up with the latest fashions, and flirting with every man I meet just because it’s expected of me.’

  ‘You’ll probably change your mind once you get back to London.’

  ‘Actually,’ she replied, ‘I don’t think I will. After experiencing all this, London will seem terribly false and overrated.’

  ‘Do I detect romance between you and Peter?’

  ‘We like each other and get along famously, but that’s as far as it goes, and I’ve made certain he’s aware of that.’ She rolled on to her stomach and plucked at a loose thread in the blanket. ‘I love it here,’ she said simply, ‘but like you, I don’t belong. This amazing, ancient country is not for me. I’m too English, used to rain, misty mornings and gentle summers.’ She leant her chin on her hands. ‘I shall miss Australia, and Peter, but they will stay in my memory for the rest of my life.’

  ‘You’re being very profound,’ Lulu teased.

  Dolly sat up and hugged her knees. ‘I suppose I am,’ she admitted. ‘But this trip has been a rite of passage for me. I feel I’ve grown up at last, and know what I want to do with the rest of my life.’

  ‘Which is?’ Lulu prompted, intrigued by this serious, mature Dolly.

  ‘To let Freddy down gently and give him the chance to find a girl who will really love him.’ She gave a sigh as she picked up her hat. ‘Our families expected us to marry, and we sort of went along with it because it seemed the thing to do – but I don’t honestly believe either of us was ever in love.’

  ‘Oh, Dolly, I am sorry.’

  Dolly shrugged. ‘C’est la vie. Better to sort things out now before it’s too late, than spend the rest of our lives in misery.’

  ‘What about the man threatening you with blackmail?’

  ‘I suspect he’s forgotten all about me by now,’ she murmured, ‘but if not, I shall simply call his bluff and deny everything once Freddy is out of the picture.’

  ‘And your other ambitions for this new life?’

  ‘We have a vast cattle herd on the estate, and I plan to get the farm manager to teach me everything he knows. Having worked here and listened to Peter, I can see I have a lot to learn, but I’m determined to make our herd one of the finest in England.’

  Lulu looked at her in amazement. ‘You plan to spend the rest of your life nursemaiding cows?’

  ‘Yep.’ She began to pack up the picnic basket. ‘I’ll also attend hunt balls, farmers’ markets and stud farms – I might even travel up to Scotland and have a look at the Highland cattle.’ Her green eyes sparkled. ‘I can hardly wait to see the look on Pa’s face when I tell him.’

  ‘Will he agree to it, do you think?’

  Dolly grinned. ‘He won’t have much choice. Pa always regretted not having a son to run the place, and now I’m going to prove to him that a daughter can do just as well, if not better.’ She fastened the leather strap on the basket. ‘What about you, Lulu? What are your plans for the future? Will you go back to Tasmania and give it a go, as they say here?’

  ‘I miss Joe dreadfully,’ she admitted, ‘and really look forward to our chats on the two-way – once Frank has finished flirting so outrageo
usly with Molly – but they’re almost impersonal, and I really don’t know how he feels about me. It could be years before I’m able to return, and by then my feelings will probably have changed and I’ll be married to some stockbroker and have several children.’

  ‘You’d hate being married to one of them – they’re frightfully pompous.’ Dolly shook out the rug and stuffed it into the saddlebag. ‘I’m not surprised you keep any hint of romance out of your conversations on the two-way,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘There always seem to be a hundred people listening in – and two hundred more waiting for the gossip – everyone knows everyone’s business. It must be impossible to keep secrets out here.’

  ‘That’s exactly my point about the isolation,’ said Lulu, as she climbed into the saddle. ‘It’s about the only entertainment to be had.’

  They rode in companionable silence back to the homestead. Lulu was pleasantly tired after the long ride, and was looking forward to a wash and a change of clothes. The dust clung to everything, her skin felt gritty and her hair was a tangled mess.

  With the horses rubbed down and watered, they let them loose in the paddock and headed for the house. As they climbed the steps to the veranda, the screen door was opened by Sybilla, who was looking uncharacteristically flustered.

  ‘We’ve had a message come over the two-way for you. They won’t tell me what it’s about, so you’ll have to call them back.’

  ‘If it’s Joe, I’ll call him once I’ve cleaned up.’

  Sybilla’s expression was solemn. ‘It was Augathella police station.’

  Lulu’s heart was thudding as she followed Sybilla into the kitchen where the radio took up most of one corner. She sat before it and began to pedal so it fired up. Her hands shook as she picked up the handset. ‘This is Warrego Station. Lulu Pearson here. I need to speak to the Augathella police.’

  The static buzzed and crackled. ‘Sergeant Roberts here, Miss Pearson. Is there someone with you?’

  ‘Yes,’ shouted Lulu through the static. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

  ‘I have a telegram here from a Vera Cornish in England.’

  Lulu’s pulse was racing and she went cold. ‘What does it say?’

  ‘Lady Pearson in hospital. Doctor concerned. Suggest get home quickly.’

  ‘Dear God, what happened to her?’

  ‘I dunno, Miss Pearson. It doesn’t say anything more.’

  Sybilla replaced the handset for her. ‘Do you need one of your pills?’ she asked quietly. At Lulu’s nod she signalled to Dolly, who rushed off to their room. ‘Just breathe as steadily as you can. She’ll back in a minute.’

  Lulu’s thoughts were in a whirl as she waited for the pill to take effect. ‘I have to go to her,’ she gasped, ‘but we’re so far away and it will take weeks, and she could be dead by then.’ The tears ran unheeded down her face and splashed on to her grubby shirt.

  ‘Stop that,’ Sybilla ordered gruffly. ‘Tears won’t get you to England, but Frank might.’ She grasped Lulu’s arm and helped her to her feet. ‘Let’s go and find him.’

  He was in his office going through some paperwork, but he set it aside immediately and listened as Sybilla explained. ‘Go and wash and change while I sort something out,’ he said kindly. Seeing the fresh tears, he patted her arm. ‘Try not to worry, love. That old girl is tougher than you think – she’ll make it through.’

  ‘I know, but all the same …’

  ‘Go on,’ he said, his brusque manner returning. ‘Leave me to organise things.’

  *

  Lulu had bathed and changed into fresh clothes within minutes, but an agonising hour had passed before Frank came to find her and Dolly. ‘Peter will fly you to Darwin,’ he said. ‘My mate has a big spread up there and he’ll fly you to Java via Timor and then on to the northern tip of Sumatra. He’s arranging passage for you on a cargo boat to Ceylon, and you’ll pick up the SS Clarion in Columbo, which will take you to London.’

  Lulu’s heart had stopped racing, but her chest felt tight, her shoulders weighed down with worry. ‘Thank you,’ she said tremulously, reaching for his work-roughened hand. ‘Thank you so much.’

  He brushed off her thanks. ‘Go and put on thicker clothes and pack a small bag. I’ll send the rest of your stuff on to London.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t fret. That old lady is as tough as an ox – she’ll be right.’

  He turned to Sybilla. ‘Get that lazy cook to do some food they can take with them,’ he ordered. ‘It’s a long journey.’

  The next half hour passed in a blur as they hastily packed the bare essentials and swathed themselves in hats, gloves, scarves and thick coats.

  Lulu kissed Frank and hugged him. ‘Thanks,’ she said again, ‘and I promise I will stay in touch. I never want to lose you again.’

  ‘Get outta here, girlie. You’re wasting time,’ he said, not quite able to disguise his emotions.

  Sybilla gave her a pat on the shoulder. ‘I don’t do kissing,’ she said brusquely, ‘but I’ll see you in London next year, and you can give me back my coat then. I hope all goes well with Clarice.’

  They dashed into the night towards the sound of the plane’s propellers gathering momentum. There was just time to wave a final goodbye before Peter boosted the engine’s roar and the plane began to trundle down the airstrip, which had been marked by beacons lit in metal baskets down the length of the runway. As the plane began to gather speed, the dust made it impossible to see the homestead or the people they knew were watching from the veranda.

  Lulu adjusted the goggles, shifted low in the seat and tucked her chin into the fur collar of Sybilla’s coat, praying they would get to Sussex before it was too late.

  Chapter 17

  Joe kicked off his boots and accompanied the dogs into the kitchen. Molly had hung paper chains everywhere in preparation for Christmas, and there was a little fir tree in the hall she had yet to decorate with the tinsel and silver balls they’d kept since his childhood.

  He took a beer from the gas fridge and took a long, grateful slug. It had been a hot one today, and he reckoned he’d earned it. Leaning against the sink, he stared out of the window and wondered how Lulu was coping with the heat in Queensland. It would be far fiercer; drier than Tasmanian heat, with no respite from a sea breeze.

  Taking the beer with him, he ambled down the passage towards the two-way. He hadn’t spoken to her for a couple of days, and he missed the sound of her voice. There was also something he had to tell her – a surprise he had planned – and he hoped she would be pleased.

  ‘If you’re thinking of talking to Lulu, don’t bother,’ said Molly, bustling through the front door. ‘I’ve just had a call from Frank. She’s on her way to England.’

  ‘But she isn’t due to leave until the very end of January.’

  ‘Clarice is in hospital. It doesn’t look good.’

  Joe’s disappointment weighed heavily. ‘I’d planned to surprise her in Melbourne before she sailed,’ he said. ‘The dates fitted right in, and I was hoping to take her to the Australia Day celebrations.’

  Molly shrugged and moved past him on the way to the kitchen. ‘Perhaps it’s for the best,’ she said, slipping her arms into the floral apron and tying it. Her gaze was direct, but not unkind. ‘I know you felt something for her, Joe,’ she said softly, ‘but it wouldn’t have worked – not when you live on opposite sides of the world.’

  He knew she was right, but still couldn’t accept it. Lulu was gone, and already the world seemed a much emptier place.

  *

  There was a January pea-souper fog hanging over London as they docked, and after a hasty goodbye to Dolly, Lulu clambered into a taxi and headed for Sussex. She was utterly exhausted and sick with worry, but nothing she could do would make the taxi go faster. It seemed that the last few miles of any journey were always the longest.

  Four hours later she arrived at the cottage hospital. Clarice was in a deep sleep. Her face was ashen and drawn, and she looked unbearably small and
frail in the great iron bed as she struggled to breathe. Lulu sank into the chair beside her, the despair and weariness making her weep. It had taken so long to get here, but was she too late? Would she ever have the chance to tell Clarice how much she loved her?

  The doctor’s expression was solemn as he came into the room. ‘I’m glad you could make it in time,’ he said.

  ‘What happened? She’s not going to die, is she?’

  He regarded Clarice, refusing to meet Lulu’s gaze as he told her about the fall. ‘The scar on her face looks worse than it is and is healing nicely,’ he said. ‘The fracture has knitted, and she was making a good recovery until her chest infection worsened.’ His expression grew even more solemn. ‘Pneumonia has set in, I’m afraid, and her heart is struggling. She is very frail, so you must expect the worst.’

  Lulu’s tears blinded her. ‘How long?’ she whispered.

  ‘A few days at most,’ he replied softly. He eyed her travel-stained clothes, the bag at her feet and the bruising of weariness and anguish beneath her eyes. He’d been her doctor since her arrival in England as a child. ‘She’s heavily sedated at the moment. Why don’t you go home and rest? I’ll call if things change.’

  Lulu shook her head. ‘I’m going nowhere,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Do you have your own medication, Lulu? You don’t look at all well yourself.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ She took the tiny frail hand that lay so still on the starched sheet, and held it to her cheek. ‘Will I have a chance to talk to her?’

  ‘She has drifted in and out of consciousness for the past two weeks, but her waking moments aren’t very lucid. I wouldn’t hope for too much, Lulu.’

  The nurses and doctors came and went throughout the day and night. Lulu remained at the bedside, Clarice’s hand gently held in her own as she softly told her about the adventure they’d had to get here. Lulu had no idea if she could hear her, but keeping up the monologue distilled the hushed silence in that hospital room.

  Vera Cornish eased in through the door the next morning. ‘I heard you was back,’ she said in a stage whisper. ‘I brought these – thought they might cheer her up.’ She placed the daffodils on the bedside cupboard and looked down at Clarice. ‘No change, I suppose?’