A Greater World: A woman's journey

by Clare Flynn

  The trip into town took place in total silence. Will was left behind at the shack and Elizabeth was saddened that she might not see him again until the baby was born and they returned. Kidd had made that clear when she urged Will to lose no time in coming to see them.

  'He's staying here. Understand that, boy? You've work to do and I'm tired of seeing you hanging around town selling bloody rabbit skins, when you should be working.'

  'But Pa...'

  'Shut your mouth and heed what I say.'

  The boy bit his lip and kicked at the dusty ground. Elizabeth slipped down from the trap and went to hug him. 'Don't worry, Will. I'll see you soon. Look after yourself.'

  The boy's eyes were sad and she could see the loneliness in them. 'You're a good friend to me, Lizbeth. I'll miss you.'

  Before Kidd could raise a curse, she climbed up beside him and faced the road ahead. He flicked his whip and the pony shuffled forward. She turned as they reached the bend in the track and looked back at Will, but he was already walking away, his shoulders slumped.

  The journey was uncomfortable. The road was bumpy and full of potholes that she was sure Kidd did not always try to avoid. She had one hand on her stomach to cushion the baby, the other on the side of the trap as it swung from side to side when they hit a pothole or veered around them.

  After driving through endless scrub, the occasional houses and shacks grew in number, until they were a continuous development along the roadside, looking more established the nearer they got to the centre of the town. Many had well tended gardens and brightly painted signs offering guest accommodation, some just a bare space in front with a few chickens scratching around. Most of the buildings were single storey, raised slightly off the ground and constructed in painted wood panels. The town had an air of prosperity, but also seemed to have grown up in haste and not always with sufficient planning and attention.

  They came to a house larger than most of its neighbours, set back from the road in extensive grounds. Kidd reined the pony into the driveway that ran beside the house, leading to a large stable. The front door of the house opened and a tall man walked towards them with his hand raised ready to help Elizabeth down from the trap.

  'Good afternoon, Mrs Kidd,' he said. 'We've been watching out for you. Welcome to Kinross House. You must be tired, Ma'am. Let me take that bag.'

  Anticipating that Kidd would not have supplied the information, he added, 'I am Oates, Madam. I look after things for Mr Kidd here at Kinross House.'

  Elizabeth looked around her in astonishment. The house was very grand indeed. She could not imagine a greater contrast from the shabby shack she had been living in. Unlike its neighbours, it was built with two storeys and the front door was large and solid and set in the middle of a wide, covered veranda.

  She turned to Kidd, but he was already turning the pony around to head back to the road in his customary cloud of silence.

  'Come in, Madam. Come in. You should get some rest. Mrs Oates will show you your room.'

  A plump, smiling woman was waiting on the doorstep. 'Welcome to Kinross House, Mrs Kidd.'

  'I don't understand,' Elizabeth said as she followed the couple across the threshold and into a large hallway with a sweeping staircase. 'Whose house is this? Am I to stay here tonight?'

  Mrs Oates raised her eyebrows and glanced at her husband. 'He never has much to say for himself does Mr Kidd, that's for sure. But I'd have thought he would have told you this much.' She shook her head. 'Kinross House belongs to Mr Kidd, Madam. It's your home. Come in, you look exhausted.'

  The woman looked her new mistress up and down. Elizabeth was wearing the only item of her limited wardrobe that had not been ruined by the arduous life out at Wilton's Creek. The green silk dress had lain untouched since its brief outing for her wedding ceremony. While rather creased after the rigours of the pony and trap and straining slightly at the seams, it was a beautiful garment and should still pass muster in even the most elegant circles of this outback town, which was more than could be said for the other contents of her suitcase. She shuddered at the thought of the shabby dresses inside. What on earth would Mrs Oates make of them? Clearly she had no idea Elizabeth had been working as Kidd's kitchen skivvy.

  'Your bedroom is the first on the right at the top of the staircase. There's hot water and towels laid out ready for you. I'll bring you up a cup of tea and some sandwiches in a few minutes and then Mary can draw a bath for you. At four o'clock Mr Kidd has given instructions for Oates to take you in the automobile to the Salon de Paris for a fitting.'

  Elizabeth was dumbfounded. It made no sense. Why had Kidd put her through the ordeal of the last few weeks, when he had a fine house here in town? Why did he want to spend time at Wilton's Creek himself? While Will said his father preferred a simple outback life, it was inconceivable that he could own a place like this and keep his son scratching out an existence on a primitive small-holding in the bush.

  She opened the bedroom door. It was an elegant, opulent room. The floor was polished wood; the enormous bed was covered with a blue, silk counterpane in luxurious contrast to the threadbare bedding at Wilton's Creek. Matching blue silk curtains hung at the tall windows. With a gasp, Elizabeth rushed towards them, overcome by the beauty of the view in front of her. The afternoon sun was lighting up spectacular crags and cliffs and beyond them a wide valley with mountains on the other side. The blue haze above the eucalyptus trees spread throughout the valley as the trees made a dense canopy in the bottom and reached high up the slopes and craggy walls. Waterfalls plummeted over the edge of the chasm. In the distance, she could see birds circling high above the trees. She had never seen a sight more beautiful and less expected. She knew she would never tire of rising in the morning to be greeted with this view. Her spirits lifted.

  Even marriage to Jack Kidd was a fate to which she could be reconciled. The privations of the last few weeks must have been some kind of test. She couldn't imagine why he had wanted to put her through it, why he felt he had to test whether she was strong enough to cope with the hardships of outback life? A needless test, if she was to be mistress of this beautiful house, with its servants and exquisite objects. She gazed around her at the oil paintings on the walls, landscapes that mirrored the views outside the windows, at the delicately carved furniture and the fine bone china on the washstand.

  There was a knock at the door and she turned, expecting Mrs Oates, but it was a maid, a young girl with an unmistakeable Irish brogue and the reddest cheeks Elizabeth had ever seen.

  'Afternoon Ma'am. Here's your tea and some sandwiches. Mrs Oates said you were sure to be hungry.' She placed the tray on a small table in front of the windows. 'I'm Mary, Ma'am. Your bath will be ready in ten minutes. Please let me know if you need anything else?' With a smile that lit up her chubby, country face, she hurried out of the room.

  When Elizabeth descended, refreshed by the tea and sandwiches and a long soak in the bathtub, Oates was waiting at the front door, with a gleaming maroon motor car ready in the driveway. He was wearing a peaked cap and holding a large pair of leather gloves.

  She had not driven in an automobile since her father had sold his pride and joy before coming to Australia. Dawson's modest salary had never permitted him to aspire to automotive ownership and motorcars were still rare on the streets of Northport in 1920. Oates opened the door and helped her in, before taking his place in the front.

  'I'm surprised to see a motorcar up here in the mountains, Mr Oates. How on earth did it get up here from the coast?'

  'Ma'am, it's not the easiest of journeys. There are stretches where we needed horses to give us a bit of a helping hand. That was a few years ago. But now it only gets used around town and then not very often. Mr Kidd is not fond of motorcars. He prefers to use the pony and trap or to ride his horse. Most of the time the motor is in the stable. I take it out for the odd run to keep it ticking over. There are quite a few vehicles in the town, as well as a large motor coach to take the tourists around the m
ountains. Most people come up on the train.'

  'Why did Mr Kidd buy a motor car if he doesn't like to use it?'

  The man gave a slightly embarrassed cough before speaking, 'I understand he didn't purchase it. I believe he er... 'inherited it' along with the house and all its contents. He has a lot of luck with the cards does Mr Kidd. I'm sure now you're here it'll get more use.'

  They had reached the centre of the town. There was a large and imposing hotel, The Queen Alexandra, set back from the road on rising ground with sweeping driveways bounding each side of a large terraced lawn, thin and brown from the past summer's drought. The poverty of the garden did not detract from the splendour of the building. It was built on three floors with a turret structure at one end, and a balustraded wrought iron veranda at the front. The tiled roof contrasted with most of the other buildings clustered along the sides of the main street, which, like the shack at Wilton's Creek, were mostly roofed in corrugated iron.

  'That's a fine-looking hotel, Mr Oates. Does it get much trade up here?'

  'Why yes, ma'am. People come to the Blue Mountains for their health and for holidays as the air up here's fresh and clean. Some treat the town as a kind of sanatorium after they've been sick. Others come for the scenery and the excursions. It is a very popular tourist destination and a favourite for honeymooners.'

  The car pulled up outside a shop-front that appeared a little grander than its fellows. It had a large double window with a pair of tailor's dummies displaying what must have been the latest fashions in New South Wales. Elizabeth smiled to herself. Northport was not exactly Paris, but it did seem to be a couple of years ahead of this place in acquiring the latest designs. Her green silk dress was of the minute, compared to the display in the Salon de Paris. But compared to the rags most of her clothes had become, the window display was tempting. As she got to the door, her heart sank. How was she to pay? Oates, as though reading her mind, moved to her side and held open the door. 'Just choose your purchases, Ma'am and Miss Godfrey will put them on the account. It's all arranged. I'll be outside waiting for you.'

  A bell rattled as she crossed the threshold. A small pinched-face woman rushed forward to greet her.

  'Mrs Kidd? Take a seat. I'm Miss Godfrey. I'll bring some selections for you to look at.' She paused and managed to appear both smug and slightly embarrassed, as she looked Elizabeth up and down, taking in the lines of the green silk dress and doubtless searching for signs of her condition. 'I understand Madam is expecting a happy event and will require some suitable clothes?'

  Elizabeth blushed. Did the whole town know?

  'Mrs Oates said you'd be calling in. When you're finished here you'll find a good selection of items at Motson's the Haberdashery and General Stores for when the happy event has happened.'

  Elizabeth was irritated by her coyness. 'I presume you mean I can buy a layette there?'

  The woman nodded and scurried away to the rear of the store, returning with an array of gowns in varying shades of drab.

  'No thank you' she said before the woman could lay the dresses out before her. 'I'm having a baby, not attending a funeral. Something brighter please. Like this.' She leaned forward and fingered the hem of a deep-pink watered-silk gown.

  'Madam, it's usual to wear something a little quieter and less obvious when one is in your condition.'

  'My condition? I'm not ill.' She was about to add that she was not in mourning either, when she remembered that she ought to be. But she was not going to make public the loss of her father. She was done with mourning and clinging to the past; it was time for her life to go on. Her pregnancy was a source of shame to herself alone. No one else need know – as far as other people were concerned she was carrying Jack Kidd's baby.

  'I'm sorry, Madam. I didn't mean to offend'. The woman stared at the floor and shuffled her feet.

  Elizabeth smiled. 'No offence taken. Now bring me something more colourful please. I'd like a shorter hemline than those, before you suggest otherwise.'

  'All our apparel for expectant mothers is full length and the brightest colour I have in the maternity line is olive green.'

  'Then, why don't you show me something for a larger lady who's not an expectant mother and maybe with a bit of alteration we can find something that will fit the bill.' She smiled brightly at Miss Godfrey.

  'Very well, madam. Right away.'

  Half an hour later, Elizabeth left the shop having ordered three day dresses and two for evenings, all pinned and ready for the alterations to be carried out with delivery promised for the following day.

  Her visit to Motson's Haberdashery was more straightforward and she was able to purchase a layette for the baby-to-be, without comment from the sales staff. She set off back to Kinross House with a sense of quiet satisfaction and achievement.

  The girl was waiting in the drawing room when she entered, but Elizabeth didn't see her at first, as she was standing motionless with her back to the window, her brown school uniform dress merging with the brown brocade of the drawing room curtains. Elizabeth jumped in fright when she realised there was someone there.

  The girl stepped forward, looking Elizabeth in the eye without smiling in greeting and offering no hand. 'You're younger than I thought you'd be.'

  Elizabeth's instinct was to rush forward and take the hand of her stepdaughter but something made her hold back.

  'You must be Hattie? How lovely to meet you. Will told me all about you. I'm so happy that we get to meet at last.'

  Harriet Kidd turned away and gave her attention to the garden outside the window, where a couple of brightly plumaged lorikeets were screaming at each other in the branches of a bottlebrush tree. She was tall but slight of build, with narrow shoulders that sloped downwards from a slender neck. Her skin was pale and perfect, like the surface of a bowl of cream. Her face was framed by light brown hair, left long around her shoulders, its soft waves complementing slightly angular features. It was a face that would have merited the description of beautiful, had it been illuminated by her eyes. As she turned her gaze back to Elizabeth, they were lifeless and cold.

  Elizabeth spoke again. 'Will you take some tea? I'll call Mrs Oates. Please sit down.'

  The girl ignored the offer and turned again to the window. Elizabeth, tired from her shopping expedition, eased into a chair and slipped her hands behind her to support her back. 'I must sit down myself. I'm a little tired.'

  The girl turned towards her. 'Do what you like. I'm not staying. I just wanted to find out what a gold-digger looks like.'

  Elizabeth sighed. It was going to be difficult. The girl was as cold as her brother was warm. 'I know it can't be easy for you. It must have been very hard losing your mother.'

  The girl interrupted. 'Don't speak of my mother. You've no right to talk to me about her. You're nobody, turning up out of nowhere and flashing your eyes at an old man to coax him into marriage, just so you can do his children out of what's rightfully theirs.'

  'Just a minute, Hattie. I've no intention of doing you out of anything.'

  'And don't call me Hattie; my name is Harriet. As far as I'm concerned you and the brat you're expecting can go to hell.'

  She strode away, slamming the front door behind her and Elizabeth heard the crunch of her steps on the gravel drive. Almost immediately, Mrs Oates appeared. 'Everything all right, Ma'am? I see Miss Harriet has left?'

  Elizabeth flushed, hoping Mrs Oates had not heard the exchange, but fearing she had. 'Yes. I offered her tea but she was in a hurry.'

  'Don't you mind her, Ma'am. She's not the easiest of girls. She can be a bit rude. Rather full of herself, if you don't mind me saying? It's not my place to say so, her being Mr Kidd's daughter, but she feels the lack of a mother. Miss Radley at the school is too soft by half. I was saying to Mr Oates only last week that Miss Harriet needs a good talking-to and some strict discipline. She's too fond of getting her own way. Miss Radley's too timid to stand up to her. Can I get you some tea?'

  Elizabeth smiled
. 'Mrs Oates, you're a mind-reader. A cup of tea would be perfect. I'm a little tired and I have to admit my first meeting with Harriet didn't go as I'd have wished.'

  'Don't worry. A good cuppa will make you feel better.' With a kind smile, the woman left the room.

  Elizabeth knew what it was to lose a mother. She recalled her own spoiled and pampered existence back in Northport and, while she hoped she had never been as frosty as Harriet, she knew had not always been without fault.

  She decided to call on the girl at Miss Radley's and try to make peace. She would look past the cold and unfriendly facade and try to discover the girl who had once been Will's little sister Hattie.

  Chapter Eleven – At the Schoolhouse

  Michael was on a late morning shift. He left his lodgings and headed for the centre of town. There was time before his shift to call into the post office and mail his first earnings to his parents. After paying the money for his digs there wasn't much left but he'd been careful and, at the risk of being tagged as unsociable, he'd resisted the invitation to join the other men for a few beers on payday. There wasn't a lot of time for drinking anyway, not with the alcohol curfew that was in force throughout the state.

  It was barely eight in the morning yet the main street was thick with people. Outside the schoolhouse, children were enjoying their last few minutes of liberty, before the start of the day's lessons and clustered about the yard, playing hopscotch and follow my leader. As he passed by, a child gave a high pitched scream that was taken up by the other children and spread like bushfire, so that the happy playground became a cacophony of noise, as panicking children ran screaming for help.

  He pushed his way through the people on the pavement. A small boy lay on the ground, surrounded by distraught children.

  'It were a snake' a small girl cried, jumping up and down on the spot.

  'Did you see it?' another child responded.

  'It bit Johnny. It's gone behind the trees over there.'

  'He's going to die!' More wailing and rising hysteria.