A Better Place

by Tania Roberts

  “Is the toilet through there too? I need to go.”

  “We have our own one of those.” Bill pulls back the drape over the French doors in the second bedroom. “Just out there off the verandah.”

  “Mmm mmm,” replies Lexie, not quite able to share Bill’s excitement about the house.

  .....

  Bill rises at four the next morning before the sun has even ventured above the eastern horizon. The honeymoon is over. He dons his dungarees to join his father in the eight-bale walk-through cowshed. Bob soon arrives, herding the farm’s 100 cows into the yards and the three men set to it, washing each cow’s udder, getting the milk flowing by hand, sloshing it into the metal buckets before attaching the milking machines. The cows all have their own names and their own routines; some bellow and push to ensure they are first into the milking bale; others are content to linger and chew their cud. Some will gently nudge the farmer in the hope of a head scratch; others will kick with a fury and need to be tethered into the bale. Two and a half hours later the cows have emerged from the cowshed and meandered along the race to a fresh paddock and the men get to return home for breakfast.

  “Good morning Lexie.” Bill greets his wife who has just risen and is still in her dressing gown. “I trust you slept well. I’ve brought a billy of fresh milk from the shed.”

  “Morning Bill. Yes thank you.”

  “Well, what’s for breakfast my dear? We’ll need to be ready soon. Church will start at ten and I’ll need to be early to warm up for choir.”

  “Oh all right then,” agrees Lexie feeling a little bewildered by all the new expectations thrust upon her.

  Rie had earlier popped through with some eggs, a loaf of bread and a smidgeon of butter, so Lexie sets about scrambling some eggs and toasting a couple of slices of bread.

  “No need to worry about dinner. Jean will be cooking a roast,” advises Bill. “We always have a roast on Sundays at Mother and Father’s.”

  After breakfast they dress in their best clothes, not yet washed from their honeymoon. Tomorrow will be washday so the clothes will have to suffice for today. It is a fine day out so they walk the mile into town with Bob and Rie.

  Bill and Jean sit up front with the rest of the choir. Lexie, without the Campbell family presence, joins Bob and Rie and Alice and Washington. They are, as usual, seated in the centre right hand side of the second back row as if the pew has been designated to them. The congregation gradually assembles and is brought to silence by the thump of Reverend Irvine’s hymnbook on the pulpit as he launches into his sermon. Lexie hasn’t heard the hellfire and brimstone approach with which this new Reverend delivers his message. She much prefers a quieter delivery of God’s teaching. She glances askew at her new family; Alice, her mother-in-law (back as ram-rod straight as her English upbringing) is nodding with approval as she absorbs the sermon. Washington too, is sitting straight-backed but the slump in his shoulders belies the expectations placed on him. Exhaustion from the continuous struggle to bring an underdeveloped farm up to the peak performance expected, is taking its toll. Sundays and church at least bring a welcome rest from his toils.

  Back at Denby Road after the service, Alice calls upon Bob to say grace before dinner. Jean has cooked ample; a roast of pork with a sauce of stewed apple, roast potatoes, pumpkin, kumara and fresh green beans. When the dishes have been done Bob, Rie, Bill and Lexie cross back over the road to rest for the afternoon before the night milking.

  .....

  Monday arrives – Charlotte taught Lexie that Monday is washday and Lexie intends to carry this routine into her married life. She has Bill’s breakfast ready for him when he returns from the morning milking.

  “Thanks Lexie. I’ve only got half an hour. Father and I have to plough the back paddock. It will take all day. Can you make me some sandwiches for lunch too? You could come for a walk and bring them to me so I don’t need to stop the tractor.”

  Before she knows it Bill has finished his cup of tea, is kissing her forehead and is out the door.

  .....

  “Oh you are still doing the dishes are you?” Alice asks rhetorically. “And still in your dressing gown at this hour?”

  Lexie jumps. Lexie didn’t hear her mother-in-law knock.

  “Good morning Alice,” she replies politely. “Bill has just finished his breakfast.”

  “Yes, I saw Will on the tractor on his way to plough the paddock. What plans do you have for today Lexie?”

  “Washing day,” replies Lexie.

  “And this afternoon?”

  “No plans as yet.” Lexie hasn’t even got her bearings let alone made plans for the day beyond the necessary chores.

  “Best you make some. Satan always finds something for idle hands to do.” Alice circles around the room. “The fire surround and hearth are in need of a dusting.”

  “Yes Alice, I had noticed that.” Lexie doesn’t appreciate her mother-in-law’s interference and bossiness but doesn’t want to get on the wrong side of her for Bill’s sake.

  “Well I’d best be off. Jean and I are going into town today. Is there anything that Will needs that I can fetch for him?”

  “I’m sure there will be things, once we get settled and know how much money we have, I would like to make a trip into town myself.”

  “You will probably have to come with us next time then. The men will all be far too busy on the farm to take you to town. Goodbye then.”

  As quickly as she came, Alice is gone again. Lexie, pondering what has just transpired and contemplating how she is going to deal with her mother-in-law in the future, gets busy with the washing, carrying the basket of dirty laundry to the washhouse shed at the back of the house.

  She lugs the buckets of water from the well to the washhouse and fills the copper and the tubs. She lights a fire in the base of the copper and waits for the water to boil before adding the sorted soiled clothes, cleanest and whitest first. A wooden stick allows her to prod the clothes without getting burnt and lift the sodden washing into the rinsing tubs. Bill’s farm clothes need to be scrubbed on the scrubbing board and Lexie’s fingers are red and raw by the time she finishes wringing everything and hanging it out to dry.

  The sun is high in the sky when Lexie makes it to the back paddock with Bill’s egg sandwiches and an apple she picked from the orchard. Two thirds of the paddock lies in parallel earthen furrows. A flock of seagulls scavenge their midday meal, dining on the worms and grubs uncovered by the plough’s blade. Bill climbs down off the tractor, takes his handkerchief from his pants pocket and wipes the sweat from his brow.

  “Thank you Lexie. I can’t stop for long. I need to get this finished by milking time. How is your day going?” asks Bill taking a bite out of the first sandwich.

  “Well apart from your mother, my day has been very quiet,” Lexie replies.

  “You will get used to mother. She has her ways but be sure she has your best interests at heart.”

  “Mmm mmm.” Lexie thinks Alice might have her son’s interests at heart but she is not so sure that caring extends to her new daughter-in-law, however she does not push the issue. “We will need to get some things. When do you think you might be able to take me into town?”

  “I’ll get some butter when I take the milk to the factory later and I can get some more kerosene on the way. What else do we need?”

  “Some oats for porridge, flour for baking, toilet paper, soap ...”

  “Oh, okay. I’m not sure when I will have time and I’m not sure how much money we will have to spare but we will arrange something. Well I’d better get back to it now. Thank you for bringing the sandwiches.”

  Bill dons his hat and climbs back on the tractor. Adjusting the revs, he puts it into gear, drops the plough and chugs off down the row towards the boxthorn hedge. Lexie makes her way back to the house.

  .....

  Life soon settles into a routine. The first day of the week – Sunday, is church and rest day for Bill, well at least in between mil
kings. If he is not too tired, sometimes they borrow Washington’s car and go for a drive, just like in their days of courting. Lexie is asked to take a Sunday school class and readily agrees. At long last she is able to utilise her inherent skills as a teacher. Not a full-time teacher as she would have liked, but none-the-less a teacher. Bill and Lexie then attend the Sunday night church service as they miss the morning one fulfilling their church duties.

  Monday is washday; Saturday is baking day. Lexie has inherited a love of baking from her father and Rie is happy to let Lexie take over the coal range for the day. Several trays of scones; date ones and plain, are usually first on the rack. While hokey pokey or Anzac biscuits, a Louise cake or a caramel slice are next in the oven, Lexie and Rie will enjoy a freshly baked scone dolloped with blackberry jam and cream for morning tea. Bill believes scones shouldn’t be eaten until at least a day old and is none the wiser.

  On other days, as long as Bill’s meals are prepared, their house tidy and the gardens weeded, Lexie is content, much to her mother-in-law’s consternation, to sit and read or write letters to her sisters, whom she misses greatly. It has taken a while to get used to the quietness of the house in the country with no giggling sisters for company, but Lexie likes to lose herself in a good book. Once a week she borrows Bill’s bicycle and makes a trip to the library to get a selection of books. Half a dozen fit nicely in the bottom of the wicker basket strapped to the front of the bike and there is still room to stow the other supplies she gets with the meagre amount of money available after kerosene and butter absorb most of Bill’s weekly two pound wage.

  .....

  “Oh, you are reading again are you?” Alice arrives unannounced one afternoon. “I’ve dragged Washington away from his farm work to deliver a present for you.”

  Lexie’s curiosity is piqued. She places her cross-stitch bookmark into her book and puts it on the mantelpiece for later. A clanging sound on the verandah draws her attention to the door.

  “Afternoon Lexie.” Washington yells as he wheels a treadle Singer sewing machine across the wooden planks of the verandah. “Got a delivery for you.”

  “Hello Washington. You shouldn’t have.” Lexie sees the weary bags under Washington’s eyes. His long hours endlessly toiling away on the farm are exhausting him, making him look like an old man before his time.

  “Oh yes he should. You need to be making nappies, washcloths and wraps for the baby. Far too expensive to buy and it will give you something to do. Pregnancy doesn’t mean we can sit idle.” Alice points to where she wants Washington to put the machine and dismisses him. “Thank you dear. We shall see you at dinner time.”

  “Thank you Washington.” Lexie conveys her appreciation with a smile.

  “Right, I’ve brought you some offcuts of fabric and some thread. No time like the present to get started. You can make Will some handkerchiefs for on the farm too. You do know how to sew, don’t you?”

  “Yes Alice.” Lexie had no choice at school but to learn sewing and cooking; commerce was not an option when there was no chance of her having a career.

  “Well I’ll leave you to it then.”

  “Thank you Alice.” Lexie’s politeness masks her inner frustration with her mother-in-law.

  Lexie knits as well and prefers that to sewing. She has had a special project under-way, since finishing the knitting of the new baby’s layette – a khaki green woollen cardigan for Bill’s birthday in March. It becomes increasingly difficult to manage the clicking needles around her burgeoning waistline. She’s unsure which will come first, Bill’s birthday, their first child, or the finished cardigan.

  .....

  The 14th March, Bill’s thirtieth birthday arrives, and Lexie thinks maybe the baby will too as she is woken with some niggling pains. Not having had contractions before, she is unsure what to expect, but eventually they subside and she is left with a dull ache in her lower back.

  “How are you keeping Lexie?” enquires Jean.

  “I’ve had a few pains this morning.”

  “You need to be more active. You’ve another month to go yet haven’t you?” queries Alice. The women are in the kitchen at Belvedere, preparing the birthday meal for Bill and the rest of the family.

  “The doctor is uncertain about my due date,” replies Lexie.

  “Well, the Lord will bring the baby all in good time. You are not overly large.” Alice hands Lexie a bowl of steaming potatoes. “Please take these through to the dining room. We shall not take this talk to the table.”

  The men are discussing the purchase of a new farm dog when the women bring the food through. Alice frowns at them and the conversation stops. They are reminded by her look that farm talk is to be left on the farm.

  Lexie takes her place next to Bill, who is proudly wearing his new knitted cardigan even though it is still without buttons. In her condition, Lexie is unable to ride the bicycle and make the trip into town to buy the buttons.

  Grace is said and the meal of roast lamb, mint sauce, boiled new potatoes and silverbeet is enjoyed by all.

  .....

  Over the next few weeks the niggling pains continue on and off but progress no further. That is, until there is blood.

  “Rie! Rie! Help me please,” cries Lexie.

  Rie rushes through the house into Bill and Lexie’s bedroom, her own child, Beth, balanced on her hip. Lexie is half off, half on the bed, her nightie stained with fresh blood.

  “I’ll fetch Alice.”

  Rie is gone and Lexie is alone again. A spasm grips her belly. She bites her lip with the pain, stifling a scream. She wants her husband. Where is he? On the farm, always on the farm. It seems like an eternity before Alice and Rie return. In reality it is ten minutes at the most.

  “It’s just the baby coming Lexie. Work with it. Don’t fight it.” Alice guides Lexie back onto the bed. “Fetch some towels Rie, some warm water and some flannels.” Alice takes control and Lexie is for once grateful.

  Rie leaves Beth on the floor with a wooden peg to chew on. She gets the water and returns to the bedroom to wipe Lexie’s forehead with a warm flannel. They remove the soiled nightie and replace it with a new one and put some towels underneath Lexie.

  “She’s still bleeding Alice,” observes Rie.

  “There is always a little, it’s just a show.”

  “Seems like a lot to me.”

  Lexie cannot believe they are talking about her as if she is not even in the room.

  “Fetch Bill for me please,” she begs.

  “Your husband won’t want to be part of this; it’s women’s business,” decrees Alice.

  “Argh!” Lexie yells as another spasm grips her.

  “Breathe Lexie. Just breathe through the contractions.” Rie repeats the words that comforted her during childbirth.

  “If only you were fitter. I told you sitting around would only make childbirth more difficult.”

  Hours pass. The contractions slowly get closer together. Lexie is still losing blood and Alice begins to think perhaps the doctor is needed. She calls Rie back from feeding Beth and sends her to tell Jean to telephone the doctor.

  Another hour passes. Lexie starts to push. The doctor finally arrives. He examines Lexie and immediately recognises that what is presenting itself is not the baby’s head but the placenta.

  “Quick, call an ambulance. She’s placenta previa.”

  “What does that mean?” enquires Rie.

  “We need to operate or we risk losing the baby. Quick, it may be too late already.”

  It is too late. The baby is delivered stillborn. A little girl perfectly formed is taken to heaven before she gets to breathe her first breath. They had planned to call her Barbara Lynn.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Te Kawa 1938-1941

  “What is it Lottie? What has happened?”

  “It’s Barbara.” Charlotte sobs, crumpling the letter from Barbara in her lap.

  “Well, what’s she gone and done now?” Murdo is anxious,
seeing his wife’s distress.

  “She’s caught it.”

  “Caught what?”

  “Oh Murdo, what are we going to do?”

  “Well I cannae say what we are going to do when I donnae know what’s wrong.”

  Murdo takes the letter from Charlotte thinking the only way he’ll find out is to read for himself, and there it is in black and white: the word the whole country seems to be focussed on but few want to say aloud. Tuberculosis.

  “Oh Murdo. She’s my only daughter. I cannot let her die.”

  Murdo registers the only daughter comment but lets it pass.

  “Just because she has it donnae mean she is going to die. I’ll speak to Doctor Graham about it and we’ll find out what’s best to be done.”

  “We cannot tell anyone. We’ll be ostracised if anyone finds out.”

  “I’ll make you a cuppa dear.” Murdo wants to distract Charlotte from her maudlin thoughts. “It’ll be alright,” he assures her with the little confidence that he has.

  Murdo makes the cup of tea, delivers it to Charlotte, pats her on the shoulder and retreats to his garden shed to be alone with his thoughts.

  .....

  After a sleepless night, Murdo phones Doctor Graham and makes an appointment for later in the day. He tells Charlotte he has some jobs to do in town and takes himself off to the library. The medical journals contain the latest information about tuberculosis and its treatment. Although they are written in medical jargon, Murdo gets the gist that there are no antidotes or drugs yet developed to treat the disease although scientists in America are working on this. Murdo gives a silent prayer that their trials are successful and Barbara will gain access to the drugs to cure her.

  Murdo arrives on time at the doctor’s surgery but Doctor Graham’s advice is not very helpful. He recommends complete rest, good sustenance and plenty of fresh air.

  “You should be sending her to a sanatorium,” decrees the doctor. “It’s very contagious you know, and without proper care and hygiene you and Mrs Campbell could contract the disease as well.”