by Di Morrissey
‘I think it’s time I learned to drive the car, Wally,’ observed Kate as she climbed in for the trip to the solicitor. ‘Can you teach me?’
Wally shook his head. ‘Not on your nelly. Not that I don’t think you could manage it. Young women today are doing all manner of things. But I don’t want that responsibility. For you or the motorcar.’
‘Very well. I shall ask Hock Lee. But I will watch you very carefully when we drive into town,’ she replied with determination.
‘Now don’t you think you’re just going to get into a motorcar and drive off,’ began Wally with a worried frown. ‘For a start, you’d never crank the engine over to get it going.’ But he knew it wasn’t true — Kate would do anything she wanted to, particularly now that she appeared to be in a new stage of independence and action.
In the rather dreary outer office of Dashford and Son, Kate’s confidence once again faltered. She nervously fingered the sash of her silk dress until she was ushered into Charles Dashford’s private office.
However, it was Hector who rose to greet her from behind his father’s broad desk. ‘Good morning, Kate. How nice to see you. How are you?’ They shook hands across the expanse of polished rosewood.
‘I’m well thank you, Hector. How is your father? Is he not here?’
‘My father decided to retire quite recently. Though he maintains an eye on most matters and pops in once a week.’
‘I see.’ Kate was disconcerted at the news. ‘That must mean a lot of work for you.’
The door opened and Charles Dashford’s private secretary entered. Hector rose from his chair and smiled. ‘I have some very able assistance. Kate, I don’t believe you’ve heard our news. This is my personal assistant . . .’
‘Yes, I believe I’ve met Miss O’Hara.’
‘She is now my wife.’
Kate was taken aback. Hector looked pleased at breaking the news and catching her unawares. Kate recovered quickly, genuinely pleased. ‘My goodness! Congratulations! When did this happen?’
‘Two months ago, we were married quietly in London.’ The new Mrs Dashford spoke calmly and settled into the spare chair beside the desk so that she and Hector both faced Kate. Hector’s wife was carrying a folder of documents which she placed on the desk. ‘Now, Kate. To business. How can we help you? You’re here on business about Zanana, or is it personal?’ asked Hector.
‘A bit of both really,’ Kate glanced at Mrs Dashford, feeling faintly uncomfortable.
Hector caught the swift look. ‘Kate, my wife has been with the firm longer than I have and is privy to all our clients’ business. Please feel free to speak openly in front of her.’
‘Well, it’s nothing dramatic. As you might be aware, I have turned twenty-one years of age and under the terms of my father’s will I am now able to officially take over control of Zanana. I guess I’ve come to clarify the details of my inheritance.’
‘Hock Lee hasn’t covered this with you?’
‘In vague terms. He is away or I’d have asked him to be with me today.’ Kate wished she’d waited for wise Hock Lee and not rushed in here alone. On one hand she didn’t want it to appear as though she couldn’t wait to get her hands on her inheritance, on the other, she didn’t want them to think she couldn’t make a move without him. She valued Hock Lee’s advice but she also wanted to show her independence.
Hector looked puzzled. ‘May I ask what it is you are after? Do you wish to do something with the estate?’
‘You’re not planning on selling it are you?’ cut in Hector’s wife.
‘I certainly don’t want to sell anything, nor do I want to do anything dramatic with the estate. Well, not to make any changes of consequence. I just want to go over the financial arrangements. The funding and so forth. Just how much money is available and what stipulations my father made, or any specific plans he might have had.’
‘I have the file here.’ Hector’s wife handed him the folder and he smiled at her.
‘Efficient as always, my dear.’
Hector pushed the folder across the desk and his wife rose and stretched out her hand to Kate.
‘Goodbye for now, Miss Maclntyre. I’ll send in some tea.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Dashford.’
The door closed behind Hector’s smart and businesslike wife.
‘I must say you caught me unawares with your news, Hector. I’m very pleased for you, as I’m sure are your parents. Are you happy, Hector?’
‘I’m well settled and content, yes.’
Kate watched him carefully. She couldn’t imagine him rushing his new bride into a cluster of moonlit bamboo to embrace her as he’d done with herself the night of the summer symphony when he’d proposed. Somehow she imagined this proposal, although accepted, would have been rather proper and businesslike. As Kate had foreseen, they were ideally matched. His wife seemed a little older than Hector but no doubt would push him along to achieve and excel. Kate couldn’t imagine them having fun together nor could she see Mrs Dashford with a brood of children. She was a career woman through and through.
Kate pushed thoughts of their private life to one side and concentrated on the papers in the file on her lap. From her cursory reading, nothing of any significance stood out. She was unfamiliar with some of the legal jargon and the documents were naturally very impersonal. Somewhere she felt there must be more personal documents and so she decided to discuss the matter more fully with Hock Lee. He was closest to her father and he would know more about the trust funds and the accounting.
She handed the file back to Hector. ‘Thank you. It seems I’ll have to wait for the details from the accountants before I make any decisions. Good morning. Give my best wishes to your parents.’
Hector hurried round the desk to open the door for Kate and watched her slim shape sheathed in the drop-waisted silk dress disappear down the hall. Hector noted she hadn’t cut her long fair hair but instead wore it coiled at the nape of her neck, a cloche hat perched on the side of her head. He hadn’t been too impressed when his new bride had shingled her hair into a severe Eton bob but didn’t argue when she’d told him it was the smart and fashionable thing to do. He had acquiesced as he always did, afraid of being considered behind the times.
‘How’d you go?’ asked Wally as he nosed the car through the outskirts of the city.
‘I didn’t achieve as much as I’d hoped. I have to wait for some documents to come from the accountants. Until I know the financial intricacies of the estate, I can’t move ahead with any sort of long-term plan.’
Wally eyed the youthful slip of a girl beside him. ‘I don’t know that I’d be up to tackling all that kind of stuff. Maybe you should leave it to the business heads, Kate.’ As if following her train of thought, Wally added, ‘We’re just simple country folk. I suppose you’ve grown up differently being at Zanana and knowing it’s for you and your children.’ He winked at her. ‘A bit like royalty, hey, luv?’
Kate laughed. ‘Hardly. But you’re right. I suppose Zanana is in my blood and there is no way I could part with it. Oddly, Hector’s new wife was very interested in whether I was planning to sell Zanana. My father built it for my mother to stand as memorial to their love and our family. They put their mark on every inch of the place.’
‘I know you have a great sentimental attachment to the place, Kate. But looking ahead, it could be a bit of an albatross for you. Maybe selling it — to the right people, mind — and you living somewhere more practical might be the answer. ‘Course it depends on who you marry, eh?’
‘That doesn’t come into it at all,’ declared Kate firmly. ‘Besides, I might not get married! I haven’t seen too many gentlemen who take my fancy,’ she teased. ‘Anyway, my father set money aside to run the estate and that’s just what I intend to do. Zanana should stay as a place that cares and shelters friends, family and those in need.’
‘What about when all the vets leave, what will you do with the place?’ Wally was genuinely interested.
; ‘It’s so well set up as a convalescent and care unit, I’d quite like to keep it going. And look after children. You know, children who are just out of, or about to go into, hospital.’
Kate fell silent, obviously thinking through her plans as they headed out of the city.
They arrived home at Zanana to find Mrs Butterworth pulling a leg of pork from the oven, the crackling crisp, golden and salt encrusted, baked potatoes and pumpkin sizzling around it. Nettie Johnson was stirring apple sauce and Sid was slicing home-baked bread.
‘What’s this feast in honour of? My, it smells good.’ Wally greeted everyone and went to wash his hands.
Kate pulled her hat from her head, kicked off her shoes and flopped into the bentwood rocker. ‘How did you know we didn’t have much of a lunch? A quick toasted sandwich in Repins and that was it. We’re famished.’
Mrs Butterworth smiled and set the roasting pan on the side of the fuel stove. Despite the new gas cooker, she liked the old wood-burning stove. ‘I thought you might be. Sid and Nettie have decided to take a trip and as Sid got in a side of pork, we thought we’d eat the lot in one go. The men have all eaten theirs.’
‘Just as well or this smell would have brought them running. So, where are you two off to then?’ asked Kate.
‘Oh, nowhere exotic, Kate dear. We’re going on a bit of a sentimental journey. Back to Bangalow,’ explained Nettie. ‘Sid lost one of his old cronies a little while back and as we’re all starting to get on a bit, thought we might go back and see our old friends.’
‘Speak for yourself with that getting-on nonsense, our fifties are the fun years,’ said Wally coming back into the room and starting to sharpen the carving knife.
‘Is Ben going?’ Kate asked.
‘Not yet. Though he’s anxious to go and have a look at the area. He was a toddler when we left. Thinks he might like to work up that way eventually, landscaping and so forth,’ answered Sid, putting the butter dish on the table by the freshly sliced bread.
‘He’s certainly doing well for himself,’ remarked Mrs Butterworth, putting the vegetables into a hot dish as Wally began to carve.
‘Do you want me to do the gravy, Gladys?’ asked Nettie.
Kate excused herself to freshen up before dinner.
‘Don’t be long, we’re about to dish up, pet,’ called Mrs Butterworth.
Kate was suddenly tired and longed to soak in her big white bathtub with a good splash of lavender oil. First thing after dinner that’s just what she’d do. She pulled her dress over her head and wriggled out of her silk stockings. So, Ben Johnson was doing very well for himself, was he? Too bad he was so far away in Melbourne and only sent occasional hurried notes filled with news of his activities.
Kate smoothed her hair and stepped into a pleated skirt and loose sailor blouse. Well, she had plans too. She might not be a career woman like Mrs Dashford Junior, but she had a project too — Zanana. And while she had her own ideas about its future and indeed her own, in her heart she felt she would be fulfilling a wish of her mother’s. Her mother’s love of children, Zanana’s established role as a sanctuary and her father’s careful Scottish nature all helped make the way ahead quite clear.
Over dinner there was a lot of talk about the Johnsons’ trip, Kate’s plan to learn to drive, the departure of the two recovered veterans to take up soldier settlement blocks near Wagga Wagga and the difficult weather and economic conditions which had been making headlines in the papers lately.
‘There’s a drought over a lot of the country, and they reckon it might last a while,’ said Wally. ‘Don’t know that I’d like to start from scratch on a piece of land I knew nothing about.’
‘Things ain’t too good at the markets either these days,’ added Sid. ‘Don’t know what the place is comin’ to, prices are right down for a lot of produce. Reckon we might have to open up some more paddocks for vegies, but then we’d have to get in more hands. Strike me, it’s really startin’ to be a problem.’ Sid scratched his head, clearly exasperated by the complexity of it all.
‘What a couple of depressing fellows you both are tonight,’ cried Kate. ‘You wouldn’t think there was any trouble anywhere if you saw just how busy the city streets are in Sydney these days. It was absolutely appalling traffic today. So many big buses now, not to mention those tram tracks they’re putting down everywhere. Which brings me to the question of learning to drive, Wal. There are a few things I need to know.’ Then followed a hilarious fifteen minutes as table, plates, knives, forks and chairs were used for a driving lesson which had everyone participating and which left Kate more confused than ever.
Later, as Nettie and Sid were cleaning up, Wal told Gladys of Kate’s suggestion that Zanana become a refuge for children once all the veterans had gone — and that time wouldn’t be far off.
‘Makes you think a bit about the future, Gladys. I mean, things are winding down here. And this scheme for kids . . . well, I dunno whether it will ever come to anything, and, anyway, Kate should be getting married, settling down.’
‘My, what a lot is going on in your head tonight, Wal,’ exclaimed Gladys lightly; then she added seriously, ‘So what would you do, Wal? I’ve kinda got used to you about the place . . . sort of regard you as a permanent fixture, almost a bit of furniture like.’ She didn’t fancy the idea of a Zanana without Wal and the Johnsons, and with Kate making a life of her own.
Gladys felt a small twinge of sadness as she thought about Kate’s new-found sense of independence. The girl had been like a daughter for so long, it was easy to overlook the reality of what had undoubtedly been an unusual relationship and an odd situation for so many years. Odd maybe, she thought, but Kate had been happy, and she had grown up to be a fine young lady. Mind you, contemplated Gladys, she would have been a very different young woman had her mother and father been responsible for bringing her up. Yes, different, but not necessarily better, she concluded with a sense of pride.
‘No, not necessarily better . . .’ she unconsciously added aloud.
Wal shook out the match as the tobacco strands hanging from the end of his cigarette flared and sparked. ‘What’s that, Glad?’
‘Oh nothing, Wal, just thinking out loud about this and that.’
‘Yeah. Sid and Nettie going back north has set me thinking again. I haven’t wanted to go back home since losing the missus. My little place has probably gone to rack and ruin, though my neighbours were keeping an eye on it. It’s only a small house on the edge of town. Big garden, but not like a farm or anything. Been people renting it off and on, which gave me a bit of an income.’
‘Maybe you should go and see how it’s doing. Silly to let a place fall down, Wally. Fix it up and sell it. Or move back in. You could get work as a butcher again, couldn’t you?’
‘Er . . . probably. Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Well, I’ll sleep on it.’ He went outside and headed for the nearby shed.
Mrs Butterworth sighed. Men were all the same. You couldn’t spring anything on them too quickly. They took a while to adjust to a new idea. Wal’d potter around amongst the tools, gardening gear, bits of machinery, horse tack, and motorcar gadgets, and mull things over, and in a day or so make some announcement like he’d just thought of it.
Kate was thoughtful these days too. She walked through the wards and dormitories and was imbued with ideas and plans to see these almost deserted areas come to life with the laughter of children. Then she’d wander through the beautiful formal entertaining areas, the library, the drawing room, the small family sitting room, and sit alone in their elegant splendour. They were polished and dusted, with cushions plumped and carpets and floors spotless, yet how sad and empty these rooms felt. In the shadows and corners, amongst the pictures, ornaments and furniture arranged by the mother she’d never known, Kate longed to conjure back the spirits of her parents. If only she could see and speak to them for a brief time, so they could give her some guidance, some support, some knowledge of their life, of the hopes and dreams they’d
shared, it would be enough for her to carry on with her own life.
At these times she was overwhelmed by loneliness and a fear she’d be alone forever. A spinster living in a grand house filled with memories of the past with no life or future of her own. But she tried not to let these dark moments linger, and with a determined shake of her head, she’d march outside to the rose garden and expend her energy in a flurry of snapping off dead heads of roses or collecting an armful of blooms to brighten the house.
In winter, Kate avoided the desolate rose garden and spent time in the amethyst world of the glass conservatory, cutting leaves from her father’s violets to strike more plants, and feeding and nurturing the masses of orchids.
She was busy in here one morning, taking orchids that were bursting from earthenware pots and splitting them into several clumps, when she heard steps echoing on the marble tiled passageway. Kate didn’t look up from her work, knowing it was probably Wally.
Biting her lip, and straining to break the knotted bulbs apart, Kate was thinking she might have to take an axe to it, when two arms appeared around her shoulders and two lean brown hands deftly separated the stubborn roots of the orchid.
‘You’ll get a couple of nice plants out of that lot.’
Kate hadn’t moved, and shakily she turned to face Ben leaning over her shoulder. His arms were still around her, his hands resting on her hands. Their hair brushed and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek.
‘Oh,’ she whispered.
They stared deep into each other’s eyes, his immediacy and closeness blew away any casual greeting, any flippant remark she might have normally made. The months apart — the dabbling in other worlds, mixing with other people, trying new lives on for size — disappeared. In his steady gaze, in her trembling mouth, they saw each other as they truly were and knew their love was greater than it had ever been.
‘Oh, Ben,’ she turned into his body and he tightened his arms about her, burying his face in the soft goldness of her hair.
‘My precious Kate.’
