by Di Morrissey
‘Hector told me he’d been given a citation. And then some easy job away from the fighting. It doesn’t seem fair,’ cried Kate.
‘Ben will be home soon enough. Now how about we get you settled, Wal. We’ve put you in one of the rooms off the verandah so you don’t have any steps or stairs,’ said Mrs Butterworth, helping him to his feet.
As promised, Hock Lee travelled to Zanana a few days later, and he and Kate strolled through the rose gardens as she outlined her idea.
‘It doesn’t seem right that Zanana should lie fallow. With so much space and almost self-supporting with the farm and dairy, I feel it should be put to some use.’
‘In your parents’ day it was not only a warm and happy home, but part of the social fabric of society. Balls, charity events, parties, children’s picnics . . . they were quite something, those days, Kate.’
‘That’s not exactly what I was thinking. The war is barely over, people are still struggling. From helping at the Red Cross I understand the hospitals are crowded and there are so many men to be rehabilitated before they can go back home. I’d like to turn Zanana into a convalescent hospital. We’d need staff and facilities, of course . . .’
‘And money. Such things cost money, Kate.’
‘I’ve never asked about the money and the estate, Hock Lee. But now I want to know — where do I stand? Now and in the coming years?’
‘I didn’t want to burden you with such matters, but now that you ask, and seeing as you are turning into such a practical and caring young woman, it’s right you should know.’
They sat on Catherine’s favourite rustic bench in the late afternoon sun and Hock Lee explained to Kate that he was executor of Robert’s estate, which was administered by a board of trustees. The main directors were himself and Charles Dashford who looked after the legal and administrative matters.
‘The bulk of your father’s money was invested in a trust. Money from that trust goes annually towards the upkeep of Zanana — that’s repairs, salaries, additional expenses in running the farm, the dairy and grounds. There are smaller stipends that go out — support to the orphanage in your mother’s name, and of course, a settlement went to Mary . . . you knew about her?’
‘Only that my parents adopted a girl from the orphanage for a short while.’
‘She was not adopted for a short while, Kate. Your mother considered Mary as much her own child as if she’d been born at Zanana. I’m afraid it was your father who found it too painful to continue the relationship. And due to the untimely death of your mother, all the legal paperwork had not been completed. Also Mary did not take kindly to your arrival. It usurped her place in the home, then of course, with the sad loss of your mother . . .’
‘She felt I had taken her place?’
‘Mary was very young,’ explained Hock Lee softly. ‘But, well, yes, there was a problem. Her jealousy became intolerable for the Butterworths and dangerous for you. They tried very hard with the two of you.’
‘It couldn’t have been easy for them. What happened to Mary?’
Hock Lee sat in silence for a moment. ‘She was put in a good boarding school, and is now out in the world. I tried to include her in my own family and the Butterworths tried hard to maintain the bond. But it was Mary’s decision to sever the connection.’
‘She doesn’t want anything to do with us?’
Hock Lee shook his head. ‘Your father didn’t want to have any contact with her, but since your mother had loved the child, arranged to pay for her school and living expenses and settle a small amount of money on her from your parents’ estate till she was twenty-one.’
Kate was in deep thought, biting her lip as she listened. Hock Lee changed the subject. ‘Now . . . back to your plan. I think it an excellent one. Extra money would be needed from the estate, which means the board has to approve such expenditure. Though I feel sure we could get hospital beds, wheelchairs and whatever else is needed, provided. Skilled staff would certainly be required and quite a bit of renovating would have to be done to the house. Nothing permanent, of course. Now, how does Gladys feel about all this?’
‘I haven’t told her yet. I thought it best to talk to you first. I don’t want to burden her with extra work and it would mean a lot of changes.’
‘Mmm . . . Somehow I think she’d welcome the idea. She is such a caring soul and putting her energies into something else might help ease the pain of losing Harold.’
‘I’m sure the Johnsons would be willing to be involved too.’
‘We’d better discuss it with them all and go over just how it should be set up and how it would work before I approach the board.’
‘I’d like to talk to the board myself, Hock Lee.’
He looked at her in surprise. But seeing the determined lift of her chin and firm set of her mouth, he realised what a strong-willed young woman she had become. ‘Perhaps that would help sway their decision. A sound argument and a pretty face are hard to refuse.’
As Hock Lee predicted, Gladys Butterworth listened thoughtfully to Kate’s idea then nodded. ‘Yes. It’s time this place opened its doors to the world again. I think Harold and the MacIntyres would approve.’
The Johnsons and Wally Simpson joined them in the kitchen where everyone made suggestions as Gladys refilled the big teapot.
Wally waved a hand towards the gardens outside the windows. ‘A man’ll mend a lot quicker just looking out there rather than staring at grey walls and worn linoleum, that’s for sure.’
They were all silent for a moment, then Kate spoke. ‘Uncle Wally, you’ve just given me the idea of what to say to the gentlemen on the board of trustees. Hock Lee, we have a little homework to do, and then we tackle them.’
Wally slapped the kitchen table. ‘That’s the spirit, Kate. You’re the boss after all!’
They all laughed and began to help clear away the cups and cake plates; but Wally’s remark made Kate realise that indeed she was the heiress of this estate and it was fitting she should begin to take control of its fate.
Kate dressed carefully for her afternoon appointment. A chill wind was blowing, so she chose a deep-blue woollen costume, the hem of its long full skirt, jacket collar and cuffs edged in matching velvet. Two velvet buttons closed the jacket above her tiny waist. The ruffled edge of a white chiffon blouse peeped at her throat and she chose white gaiters buttoned over her small-heeled black shoes. She swept up her hair and topped off the outfit with a jaunty felt hat and scarlet feather.
Feeling satisfied she was dressed appropriately — striking the right balance between femininity and authority — she pulled on her black kid gloves and picked up her black fur muff. Excitement caused spots of pink to glow on her cheeks and her sapphire eyes were bluer than her outfit, sparkling at the challenge she faced.
She swept down the grand staircase to where Hock Lee waited with Mrs Butterworth.
‘Kate! You look . . .’ Gladys was at a loss for words. This poised and sophisticated woman was not her young Kate.
Hock Lee beamed at her and held out his arm. ‘You look every inch a lady on a mission,’ he declared.
All meetings of Zanana’s board were held in the offices of Charles Dashford in Sydney’s stately Macquarie Street, a street of prestige and power. The three-storey sandstone building faced the Botanic Gardens and, unlike the warm and welcoming weathered blocks of pale quarried stone, the interior was dark and felt chilly and unfriendly.
The heels of Kate’s shoes clicked on the black and white marble tiles of the foyer as she headed briskly upstairs. The big wooden doors had been freshly relettered in gold — Charles Dashford and Son. Solicitors. Kate and Hock Lee exchanged a quizzical glance. He squeezed her arm, tipped his trilby hat with his cane in a gesture of derring-do, and pushed open the door.
They were led into the boardroom by a shy young clerk. The low murmur of voices around the mahogany table stilled, and then there was a rustle and scraping of chairs as the trustees rose to greet Kate.
&nbs
p; Hock Lee made the introductions but paused when he saw Hector Dashford regarding Kate with a frank and admiring smile.
‘Hector you know of course. Er . . . will you be joining us?’ asked Hock Lee, not sounding too pleased at the presence of someone not on the board.
‘Hector is familiarising himself with the business of our firm,’ explained Charles Dashford smoothly. ‘He cannot, of course, vote at this meeting.’
‘I didn’t think the business of Zanana was the domain of your firm, but of everyone here,’ said Kate mildly as Hock Lee held out the leather chair for her at the long oval table.
‘Quite so, my dear. Hector is involving himself in all aspects of my business interests and Zanana is part of my . . . portfolio,’ said Charles Dashford with a tight smile.
‘You don’t mind my being here do you, Kate?’ asked Hector, still smiling complacently.
‘Not for the moment. In fact, I’m sure you’ll be interested in what I am proposing.’
An elderly banker with a thick moustache and wearing the old-style conservative frock coat, hooked his fingers beneath his silk-faced lapels. ‘Perhaps we should call the meeting to order and begin. Miss MacIntyre, you are first on the agenda.’
The secretary briefly ran through the order of business, then called upon Kate.
For a moment she hesitated, glancing swiftly round the table at the ten impassive faces. Hector still smiled indulgently towards her. She ignored him and began to speak.
‘Gentlemen . . . I wonder if any of you know what “Zanana” means?’ She paused and smiled inwardly as they all looked slightly taken aback. Kate continued. ‘It means a place of protection and sanctuary. A place of peace and tranquillity. The sort of place where one’s spirit can be restored. A place of healing. For the mind, soul . . . and body. So to me it seems appropriate that Zanana should become, on a temporary basis, a place where those wounded men who have returned from the war can recuperate.’
‘A hospital!’ The shocked exclamation came from Charles Dashford.
‘Rather more of a convalescent home. A halfway house between hospital and returning to their own homes. It seems a great pity that in these difficult times such a large house sits empty while the hospitals are so dreadfully overcrowded with men who don’t require urgent medical care, but supervised rehabilitation. It would not take a great deal of money to arrange facilities. Hock Lee and I have drawn up a preliminary list of the costs involved. The city hospital has agreed to provide beds and necessary basic equipment. And as you know, the estate is self-sustaining — the dairy and farm are very productive.’
Charles Dashford began to bluster loudly. ‘My dear girl, it’s impossible. A childish notion. Good-hearted indeed, but . . .’ He waved a hand, dismissing the idea.
Hock Lee spoke up. ‘Just what are your objections, Charles?’
Dashford glanced around the table and faltered slightly, not sensing the usual willing support. ‘It’s preposterous. The simple question is — why? It will be trouble, effort, expense, a risk . . . and I say again, why?’
One of the trustees spoke quietly. ‘I lost my son in France. I would like to think I could do something for those boys who did return and need help with rehabilitation.’
The board chairman clasped his hands across his waistcoat. ‘What about staff, Miss MacIntyre? Surely experienced nursing staff as well as extra household staff will be required.’
‘That is true. I have made some enquiries and there is a recently retired hospital matron in Kincaid who would be willing to take on the job. She feels there are experienced nursing sisters in the district, and some women with good first-aid and care knowledge who could be hired. Other staff would be given some training and there are a lot of men and women in the area who would be willing to help; many on a voluntary basis. We also have workers’ cottages on the estate suitable for staff accommodation. As to the financial aspect. Hock Lee has some figures for you to study. I can’t think of a better use for some of the money from my parents’ trust fund.’
‘You seem to have considered most aspects,’ said the chairman with a slight twinkle.
Charles Dashford swung to him. ‘Rawlings! Surely you aren’t agreeing to this plan? We are charged with looking after the interests of the estate. Who is to say what condition it will deteriorate into, or what thievery or damage might go on. The house is full of valuable antiques, you may recall. No, I cannot agree with this at all.’
Hock Lee rested a sympathetic hand on Kate’s arm. He’d told her Dashford would block the idea. But she seemed quite calm.
‘Why, Mr Dashford, what a sad world this would be if everyone thought as you do. My parents were benefactors and philanthropists. You know of my mother’s work for the underprivileged children of the orphanage. I believe my father would approve of my plan to carry out the good work begun by my mother. Isn’t that so, Hock Lee?’
Hock Lee nodded. He didn’t say anything, Kate was doing splendidly on her own.
‘That was a long time ago. Pipe dreams, my dear,’ interjected Dashford.
‘I suggest we put the motion to a vote,’ said the chairman.
Kate looked around the table trying to assess who was in favour of her plan. Hock Lee, possibly the chairman and the trustee who’d lost his son. The rest looked unsure. Hock Lee had explained to her how Charles Dashford tended to sway the board to his side. Most would vote with him to be safe, rather than throw their hat in the ring with a young woman and a financially risky plan.
Kate rose to her feet. ‘Gentlemen, before you do, could I please have a word with Mr Dashford in private.’
Charles Dashford sighed. ‘Kate, I don’t think that will be necessary.’
She smiled prettily at him. ‘A brief moment to see if I can change your mind.’
He stood reluctantly and as Hector went to get to his feet, Kate turned to him. ‘Hector, if you don’t mind, I’d rather speak to your father alone.’
Hector raised an eyebrow and sat back down. Kate placed her muff on the table, took her small purse and swept from the room.
Charles Dashford closed the door behind them. ‘Now really, Kate, this is taking up a lot of time. You have no control over what happens at Zanana; you are still a young girl.’
She faced him and spoke in a low voice, any trace of a smile gone. ‘I feel this is the right thing to do. A morally right thing which I want to do for my real father, my dad Harold, and all those young men whose lives have been shattered. Many of them might never recover. Their bodies might, but not their minds or their hearts.’
Dashford rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t be melodramatic, my dear.’
She ignored him and went on. ‘And also I want to do it for people like Ben Johnson — the real heroes. You might be interested to know that Hector doesn’t deserve that citation for bravery. It really belongs to Ben.’
‘Whatever do you mean? You’re talking nonsense.’
Silently Kate took Harold’s letter from her bag and gave it to Charles Dashford. He read it quickly, the colour draining from his face as he read the account of Ben bringing in the wounded man and of Hector’s fear.
‘There were other men — including Wally Simpson — who saw it. I don’t imagine you’d want the story to be made common knowledge, would you?’
She had dealt her final card and stood back regarding him with a calm and friendly expression, but there was a steely glint in the depths of her blue eyes. He handed her the letter, turned on his heel and went back into the boardroom, closing the door with an angry click.
Kate sat on a leather chaise longue and waited. A young woman dressed simply in a long navy skirt and white blouse with a cerise bow came forward in a businesslike manner. ‘Would you care for a cup of tea while you’re waiting?’
‘No. Thank you all the same.’
The two young women stared at each other. Kate guessed the other was older than herself. ‘Do you work here?’
‘Yes. I’m Mr Dashford’s private secretary.’
‘Oh, I see.’
The girl was staring intently at Kate and for the first time that day, Kate felt uncomfortable.
‘Excuse me then. I must get back to my work.’ The girl turned and walked away.
The doors opened and a beaming Hock Lee came out and handed Kate her muff. ‘Well, I don’t know how you managed to sway old Dashford, but they’ve all agreed to your plan. A little fine-tuning to be done of course, but I suggest we go to the Tea Rooms to celebrate.’
‘Wonderful!’ Kate took his arm, slipping her other hand into the silky warmth of her muff.
As they descended the stairs Hock Lee laughed. ‘You should have seen Dashford’s face when he came back into the room. It was black as thunder. Reminding them Zanana meant a place of sanctuary was a master stroke, my dear.’
‘I didn’t think it necessary to mention that Zanana is only supposed to be a place of sanctuary for women. It sort of spoiled the argument a bit,’ she admitted sheepishly.
Hock Lee roared with laughter. ‘Clever girl. Now tell me all, what did you say to Dashford?’
‘Over tea. And a sweet cake.’
‘Agreed,’ said Hock Lee. ‘Now our work really begins.’
III
Echoes Call
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Zanana 1920
The convalescent hospital at Zanana flourished. The mansion and its beautiful grounds embraced the recovering men, soothing wounds inflicted on the mind and body.
Wally Simpson, now almost recovered apart from a slight limp, stayed on to help out. He and Gladys Butterworth had formed a bond based on mutual loss, common background and old friendships.
‘Shared childhood memories is a strong tie,’ Wally commented to Kate.
However, despite her busy days and the fulfilment of seeing men return to their homes rehabilitated physically and emotionally, Kate was restless. She loved her work and the fact Zanana was serving a valuable community role, and couldn’t understand the discontent that brewed in the back of her mind.
