by Di Morrissey
Sid didn’t speak but acknowledged the help with a nod as he smoothed down the arms of his blue-and-white-striped pyjamas.
Wal waited for Sid to catch his breath then asked, ‘Want a cuppa?’
Sid shook his head. In a stage whisper Wal confided, ‘Well I do. I’ll go and scrounge one and say it’s for you. Be back in a tick.’
Both men were glad of the few moments respite from the raw emotion of one seeing his friend in deep pain bravely trying to disguise it, the other wishing his agony was not so visible that it demanded such helpless sympathy.
While waiting for his tea, Wal quickly went outside through a side door and lit a cigarette. Being cheerful and bucking up his old friend was draining all his energy. He knew that Sid missed Nettie who had died from a tumour two years before. In seven years their lives had changed so dramatically and so tragically.
And it had all begun with Kate and Ben’s accident.
Wally hadn’t been in a hospital since that dreadful time when he and Gladys had sat by Kate’s bedside desperately willing her to live. Wally believed if anyone could save another by sheer force of will, then Gladys would have dragged Kate Maclntyre Johnson from the hovering shadow of death.
It had broken his heart to see Kate’s beautiful face covered in bandages. The doctor had already warned them she would be scarred and blinded, but Gladys had dismissed his warnings.
‘She’ll be all right, you’ll see. Kate, Kate dearest, I’m here with you. Your baby boy is safe and perfect. Now we are going to get you well. I have looked after you all my life, precious child, just as I did your beautiful mama. Hang on to me, take my strength, Kate, be strong.’
Gladys had leaned over the bed taking Kate’s hands in hers, her tears falling on the snowy bandages, pouring every ounce of her love and willpower through her fingertips into the cool, still hands of Kate.
Wally had stayed in the background, his heart breaking for both of them. Quietly he stepped forward and laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. ‘Take it easy, luv. She can’t hear you. You’re just cutting yourself up. Let things be.’
She had shrugged away his hand. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I will care for Kate. She needs me more than ever.’
Then as they stood there, staring at the swathed head where only nostrils and her mouth were visible, Kate’s pale lips moved. Gladys bent closer. ‘Tell me, Kate . . . what is it? I’m here with you, my lovely.’
Wally tried to read the words Kate was trying to mouth, dreading that she would be asking for Ben. She was in no condition to know about the death of her adored husband.
A smile hovered feebly around her lips and faintly she whispered ‘I’m coming . . .’
Mrs Butterworth tightened her grip, clasping Kate’s hand in her own plump, work-toughened hands. ‘No! Kate, stay . . . don’t go,’ she cried in agony.
Wally moved to her side and dropped his arm about Gladys, saying gently, ‘Easy does it, Glad. She’s all right, you’ll frighten her.’
Tears were streaming down Gladys’s face as she clung to Kate’s hand, trying to hold her back from slipping into the shadowy abyss that would separate them. With a fierceness that frightened Wally, she held onto Kate, stroking her hand as if in some tug-of-war with an unseen but powerful opponent.
But for Kate it was not as Gladys imagined.
Kate was in the rose garden at Zanana. She was sitting on Catherine’s rustic bench, her eyes closed, her head lifted to the sky. The sun felt warm on her face, a bee hummed, and the fragrance of the roses was all around her. A feeling of great contentment and joy embraced her and slowly she opened her eyes. She was not surprised to see, standing amongst the roses, at the far end of the garden, a beautiful young woman. She was dressed in a long creamy lace dress, with high collar caught at the throat with a cameo clasp. The lace bodice hugged her body to the hips where it fell from a point in soft folds of silk chiffon to her ankles. Her fair gold hair was coiled on top of her head and her bright sapphire eyes matched those of Kate.
Kate smiled. ‘Hello . . . mother.’ The figure didn’t move, but Kate saw her smile. ‘You’re just like the paintings and photographs of you at Zanana, but more beautiful.’
Kate rose from the seat and began to walk slowly along the curving path through the garden, towards the figure. ‘I missed having you beside me so much. I wanted to talk to you about so many things.’ There was another smile from the figure who slowly raised a hand and beckoned with a gentle gesture.
‘I’m coming mother . . . I’m coming.’
The apparition turned and drifted out of the rose garden and Kate followed.
‘No! Oh dear God, No! No! No!’ Gladys laid her head on the still breast of Kate and sobbed.
His eyes filled with tears, Wally lifted her away. ‘There, there, love. It’s over. It’s for the best.’
The matron and a nurse hurried to them, the matron swiftly checking Kate then turning to them and shaking her head.
As Wally led the distraught Gladys from the room, the nurse slowly pulled up the sheet to cover Kate.
The matron hurried after them and caught Wally by the arm. ‘Mr Simpson, I don’t like to intrude at a moment like this, but you have a visitor. From Sydney. She’s in my office, if you’d like to follow me. I’ll ask one of the nurses to bring a sedative for your wife.’
Wally nodded numbly.
The matron opened her office door and excused herself to get Gladys some water and a pill.
The conservatively suited Mrs Dashford stood up from the matron’s overstuffed leather lounge and extended a hand to them both.
‘I came as soon as I heard that Kate was not responding. Hector sends his deepest sympathy; unfortunately he can’t be here, I’m afraid he isn’t well. Given the gravity of the situation, Hector felt it important that I come and bring some papers, just in case.’ She paused as Gladys began sobbing.
‘Is something wrong?’
Gladys sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with grief.
Wally quietly explained, choking on his words. ‘It’s Kate. She just passed away. It’s been touch and go the last few days.’
A nurse entered and led Gladys to a small annexe where she handed her a glass of water and two tablets.
A mixture of expressions rippled across the composed face of the other woman. ‘Oh, I am so dreadfully sorry. My heartfelt condolences, Mr Simpson. This is not a good time then. I will let you be for the moment. I’m staying at the Commercial Hotel, when it’s more appropriate we must meet briefly. The situation is now quite complex, legally speaking.’
‘What do you mean, Mrs Dashford?’
‘There are papers to sign concerning Ben and certain matters about Zanana. Hector felt they should be expedited as soon as possible. Now of course with the sad death of Mrs Johnson, there is the question of the future of their child.’
‘Poor little Alec. Me and Glad will help look after him, of course.’ Wally sat down, overwhelmed.
‘Legally the boy should go to his grandparents, Sid and Nettie Johnson. Such matters as these will have to be worked out. I will telephone Hector with the sad news about Kate, and ask him to send up the relevant papers. They had left their will with us. I will stay on for as long as I’m required.’
Wally glanced over to where Gladys was sitting with a nurse. ‘I think it best if we can sort all this out quickly. It’s hard enough for Glad without it dragging on. I’ll talk to Sid and Nettie. This is going to be hard to break to them after losing Ben.’
‘Of course. Very well then. We’ll have all this worked out quickly. No fuss. I presume you’ll be taking care of the . . . funeral arrangements?’
Wally wiped a hand across his forehead. ‘I suppose so . . . I imagine Gladys will want Kate taken back to Zanana. To be buried there. With the rest of the family.’ He turned away unable to speak further.
The tall thin woman rested a black gloved hand on his arm for a second. ‘My condolences to you all,’ she rep
eated. ‘This is very tragic. I will contact you tomorrow.’
Quietly she left the room.
Kate had been buried at Zanana close to her parents. After the simple ceremony, Gladys, Wally, Sid and Nettie took one last walk through the grounds of the estate.
‘There were some good times, some happy times here, weren’t there, Nettie?’ commented Gladys. ‘But it’s over. All over.’
The four of them walked on in silence, all thinking of the baby boy being cared for in Bangalow. It was Gladys who voiced their thoughts. ‘This should be Alec’s home. His grandparents built this place for their children and the generations to come. It was a special place. Robert adored Catherine, Ben and Kate grew up here and fell in love. Alec should continue the line.’
‘What’s going to happen to Zanana now?’ asked Nettie.
Sid sighed. ‘Mrs Dashford explained it to me but I must say I found it hard to take it all in at the time. The place is overloaded with debt, there’s a mortgage on it. I’m afraid it’s going to have to be sold and what is left will go into a trust fund for young Alec. Fortunately, Ben and Kate had the good sense to make a will.’
‘What’s going to become of Alec . . . in the years to come?’ asked Wally delicately. Sid and Nettie had custody of their grandson but both were getting on in years. Nettie was frail and Sid in poor health.
‘Don’t worry about it now, we’ll all care for him, that’s what,’ snapped Gladys more harshly than she had meant.
Wally didn’t answer. How could they raise a baby at their stage in life? He kept silent, but he knew it was a situation which had yet to be resolved.
They’d tried. Lordy, how the four of them had worked to share the care of baby Alec. But within a few months, Nettie had collapsed with a suspected tumour and Gladys had taken over the daily care of Alec, taking him to spend several hours a day with his ailing grandmother. They soon realised they had to face a sad but necessary decision. Gladys had fought them to the end, but knew in her heart the solution was in the best interests of the child.
Alec was adopted. Gladys wanted desperately to keep in touch with the couple who took him, but was told it was best for everyone that all ties be severed. When Zanana was sold, the money would be put in a trust fund for him until he was twenty-one. The Dashfords would handle the legal side and advise Alec about his inheritance.
They were told he had been taken by a good-hearted farming couple who had lost their only child and couldn’t have any more children. The couple knew vaguely of Alec’s background — that his parents had been killed in a motor accident and had lived in a large home in Sydney. They planned to tell Alec the details of his family and that he was adopted when he came into his inheritance. In the meantime, he would lead a stable life in the care of two warm and kindly people who hoped their adopted son would stay on the property and continue to run it when they were ready to retire. Whatever he might inherit from his parents’ home in Sydney they hoped he would put into the farm which had become his home.
‘He’s going to a good home, with people who’ll bring him up close to the land. Ben would be pleased about that,’ said Wally gently to Gladys.
But from the moment Gladys had handed over Kate’s baby son to the adoption agency lady, any spark of life had left her. Her eyes were dull, her manner lacklustre. She dragged herself through each day and there seemed nothing Wally could do to cheer her. She visited Nettie almost every day, the two women sharing their grief. Nettie clung stubbornly to life, despite the doctor’s opinion that she had mere months to live.
Wally insisted on Gladys also seeing the doctor, who could find nothing physically wrong. Sadly he said in private to Wally, ‘She’s like a horse — her spirit is broken. She’s given up the fight. Unless you can find some way to get her interested and involved she’ll simply fade away.’
‘It’s not her spirit, Doc, it’s her heart that’s broken,’ replied Wally. ‘And no one’s figured out a way to fix that.’ He put on his hat and left the doctor’s office, feeling frustrated and saddened.
In her soul Gladys knew it too. One evening she came into the small lounge room where Wally was sitting with the evening paper and listening to the wireless. She stood there for a moment clutching a small box. ‘Wal?’
‘Yes, luv?’ Wally folded the newspaper and took off his glasses.
Gladys remained in the doorway, her arms wrapped around the cardboard box clutched to her bosom. ‘In case I never said it properly, you’ve been good to me. When I lost Harold I thought the world had ended. You made me feel good about life and going on. You’ve been my best friend, Wal.’ A tear trickled down her face.
‘Here. What’s all this for?’ Wal went to her and clumsily put his arms about her. ‘Come and sit down, Glad. Do you want a cuppa? You feel all right?’
‘I’m all right. I just wanted to be sure you knew how I felt. You’re a good man, Wally. You’ve never been second best, y’know. With us, it’s been a different sort of love, hasn’t it?’
‘Of course it has. But that doesn’t mean it’s any less, Glad. We both lost a companion and friend and found each other. We’ve been lucky. I guess I never sort of said it properly either,’ his voice thickened a bit, ‘but I love you, Glad. You’re the best.’
She nodded, accepting and knowing what he felt behind the simply expressed words. ‘That’s why I wanted you to know about this.’ She laid the box on the settee between them. ‘It’s my precious things. I don’t want anything to happen to them. Like getting thrown away. I want you to look after them and when the time comes . . . one day you’ll know who to give them to. Maybe they’ll get back to Alec and he’ll learn about it all.’
‘What’s in here?’ asked Wally gently.
‘Nothing important or valuable to anyone else. My diary I’ve kept since I first moved into Zanana. Some photos and letters, that’s all. But they’re important to me, Wal.’ She looked at him with a pained and worried expression.
Wally rested his hand on hers. ‘I’ll look after it, have no fear of that, Glad. I understand what it means to you.’ He gazed at her, a look of deep understanding passing between them. The softness returned to Gladys’s face and warmth came back into her sad eyes.
Wally straightened up briskly, ‘Anyway, what nonsense is all this? You’re going to be around making a nuisance of yourself for a long time after I’m gone. Now, I reckon a cup of tea is a good idea. Any more of those rock cakes left?’
The flimsy facade dropped between them once more and Gladys gathered up the box, brushed her cheek and tucked a strand of her grey hair behind an ear. ‘I’ll put the kettle on and, yes, there are some cakes left. I hid them in the pantry so we’d have some for later. You do guzzle them,’ she admonished as she left the room.
‘You’re too good a cook,’ he called after her. But the cheerful remark was forced from him. His heart felt like it was being squeezed, and he couldn’t take a deep breath for a moment or two. A tear rolled from each eye, coursing down the deep furrows in the folds of skin on each cheek. ‘Oh, Glad, I’ll miss you,’ he whispered aloud.
Gladys died in her sleep a week later.
The Dashfords arranged for Gladys to be buried at Zanana as she’d wished. Two years later Nettie had died and now Sid was hospitalised.
Wally knew he wouldn’t be bringing his old friend home from the hospital. Soon he’d be alone in the world. The close-knit circle of Gladys, Sid and Nettie, before that Harold and his own first wife Enid, all gone. He had friends and acquaintances in Bangalow but the links with his youth were lost. Thinking back to the friendships and bonds forged through the years, he began to wonder about the comrades who’d shared the horror of the Great War with him.
He stubbed out his cigarette and returned to Sid’s bedside.
Similar thoughts must have been passing through Sid’s mind. ‘When I’m gone you’re going to be a bit on your tod, mate,’ he said. ‘What are you goin’ to do with yourself, Wal? Don’t sit around waitin’ to be carted out boots
first. No point in just hangin’ around. I was thinkin’, I wished I’d gone to France. To see what it was like. I always regretted being turned down and not goin’ away with you blokes.’
‘You did your bit back here, Sid. It was hell for sure, and we lost a lot of good mates, but we had some times too, I can tell you. Now, there’s an idea, Sid. When you get your strength back and get out of here, we could do that. Go to France. What d’ya say?’
‘Don’t kid around, Wal. I won’t be gettin’ out of this joint. But I’d like to think of you doing it. Promise me you’ll do something. Not just rot away waitin’ for the end. It’s no fun, mate.’
Wally couldn’t speak for a moment and he reached out and clasped his friend’s hand. ‘Right-o. I’ll put my thinking cap on and make a few plans.’
But Wally found it hard to think about going anywhere without the cheerful companionship of Gladys and, besides, his pension wouldn’t take him very far. So he pottered about the house and garden filling in his days with small tasks in between visiting Sid at the hospital.
Six weeks later he went into Ward C to find green curtains pulled around Sid’s bed. With a heavy heart he pulled them to one side with a metallic clatter. The bed was empty.
A young nurse hurried to him. ‘I’m sorry. Are you looking for Mr Johnson?’
Wally nodded.
‘He passed away early this morning. Are you a relative?’
‘No. His mate. His only mate.’
Wally never did take a trip overseas but continued in the simple routine of his life in Bangalow. It was a shell of his former life and he found that more and more he was existing in the present and living in the past. Sitting in the sun in his garden, hours would pass unnoticed as he relived again the war years with Harold and young Ben, and especially, all the happy years at Zanana.
In 1940, with Australia now at war supporting Britain’s fight against Germany, Wally travelled to Sydney to live in Bondi. The Women’s Land Army were taking on many of the jobs of men on the land and in the country towns, and Wally felt superfluous and lonely. When he heard from one of the members of his old battalion who was living at Bondi, Wally decided to finally sever the last ties with his home town.
