by Darry Fraser
‘Indeed. And why do we turn a blind eye to it?’
She struggled to breathe, keeping her emotions in check. ‘I have no answers.’
‘I’m not sure there are any. I only know to keep mine safe from hurt.’ Then he coughed and turned his head. ‘Or I thought I knew.’
‘Oh, James.’ Linley stood up to hold his arm. ‘You have.’
He patted her hand. ‘And our other patient. How is he?’
Linley ducked her head. ‘He seems well.’
‘That is good.’ James smiled a sad smile. ‘I will take my leave, my dear Linley, and get to my bath before it’s too dark to see the tub.’
A small but loud squawk reached their ears.
‘Aha,’ James said. ‘I do believe that one belongs to you.’
He opened the door for her and followed her to the kitchen. He continued through to the laundry room outside and Linley heard him carting water to heat in the boiler.
Annie Rutherford had just fed her youngest and put him in his crib. She took up Toby and cradled him in her arms. ‘One more to feed and then we can all go to bed.’ She crinkled her nose. ‘But this one is for you to do something about first.’
‘Oh dear.’ Linley opened her arms for her baby, stinky as he was.
Fifty-One
Two weeks later
Ard waited in the cart while his father and mother alighted. The track had been rougher than he remembered, and his aching side had felt every rock and rut.
‘Not enough you let my orchard burn to the ground, son,’ Lorc said and rolled his eyes. ‘You go and get yourself stabbed by some madman, laid up so you can’t take your turn digging up the new plot.’ He held out his hand and Eleanor gripped it as she stepped to the ground.
Ard shifted along the seat and eased himself down. That’s not all by half, Pa.
‘Your father is making one of his funny jokes again, Ard.’ Eleanor smiled at her son. ‘We thank God you’re all right.’
Lorcan stood with his hands on his hips and looked towards the river. ‘One hundred beautiful acres all around and a mighty river runs by.’ He nodded, satisfied. ‘Liam did well. What a find.’
The stands of high gums in the distance lined the banks of the Murray. A breeze carried the sounds and smells of summer—warbling magpies, buzzing flies, baked earth and eucalyptus.
Lorcan’s broad grin earned him a laugh from his wife. ‘But there’s some work ahead of us,’ Eleanor said. She winked back at Ard. ‘And just when I was getting used to all that finery and soft living your pa had for me in Renmark.’ She stepped across the uneven ground to the cottage. ‘This looks a little worse for wear.’
They knew the previous owner was long gone. No one had maintained the place since. Straggly, parched remnants of some sort of citrus orchard were corralled behind the main house. A fallen-down stable, its timbers rotting, its roof iron rusted thin and brittle, stood beyond that. Ard knew that would have to go. He’d salvage what he could, but an earlier inspection made him think it might only have been good for the campfire.
‘At least we got all our owed wages, Ellie. And we’ll make this finer than anything in Renmark. Finer than Olivewood, perhaps.’
She peered inside through the window. ‘A good thing we did get our wages. We’ll need every penny for this place.’ She tested the boards of the verandah.
Ard exchanged a glance with his father, and then stepped up beside his mother. He gripped a post and gave it a shake. ‘Sturdy enough.’ He reached the door and swung it open. ‘In you go, Ma. See—it’s big enough to fit your table.’
And that earned him another smile.
Eleanor ran her hands along the timber walls of the hallway, poked her head into the first room, then moved across to the room opposite. ‘One of these could be our Maggie’s room when she comes.’
Lorcan called from the doorway. ‘Then we’d all better get a hurry along. When my little tempest arrives, we’ll want everything in good working order or we’ll hear about it for the next year.’
‘And the other room for Liam when he visits.’ Eleanor glanced back at her son.
Ard just nodded. He’d told her he wanted to occupy the other house, fifty yards away. He would repair it and outfit it himself. Eleanor hadn’t asked why. Ard reckoned she wouldn’t ask just yet.
‘There’ll be room for Liam at whichever house,’ Ard said. ‘Whichever one has room when he comes back.’
‘Good lad.’ Lorcan followed his wife inside.
Ard didn’t go in after his parents. He took a slow walk to the other cottage. This was the one he would occupy. He and his own family …
He needn’t have made the walk; he knew it was a direct copy of the house his parents would live in. But on his first inspection when Liam had returned, he’d realised it was the house in greater need of repair.
He stepped inside, wanting to see what his own fireplace would look like, to envisage a table there, a chair here, new boards over the earthen floor. To walk into rooms where his children would grow up. He stood at the doorway and inhaled deeply. Here he would begin his life again. Here, by the river. Though a depression loomed and another drought already crept over the colony again, with careful considered work he would have an abundant life.
Despite his cautious steps and a dull throb at his temple where the stitches ended, his heart rate sped up. Yes, here he would establish himself. A room on either side of the hallway directly off the verandah, a dining room come parlour, and another room opposite that. Out the back door was the kitchen room, a washhouse and the outhouse further back. A few old orange trees stood skeletal and abandoned beside an old lean-to that was perhaps once a tack room. He wondered what stock the family would decide to plant. The round-table discussions were always robust and lengthy until final decisions were made. Something for him to look forward to.
The Murray River meandered in the near distance, the large stands of gums towering above its banks. In the quiet, standing on the back step, Ard thought he heard the whoomp and chug of a steamer, though he couldn’t tell from which direction.
A lot to plan, a lot to do. Prepare the land, feed themselves, purchase stock and equipment … He still might have to seek work on the river to help fill the coffers.
Whatever he had to do, he would. It would be a good life. He would make it so.
There was only one other person to convince.
Fifty-Two
James sat at CeeCee’s bedside in the hospital ward. Holding one of her hands between his, he massaged absently as he spoke.
‘I don’t know if you can hear me, my darling girl, but I’ll keep talking to you anyway.’ He lifted her hand to kiss it. ‘Linley and Toby are quite fine, still at Annie’s place until I can convince Linley it’s safe to go home.’ He rested her hand on the bed. ‘You’ll be pleased to know that I had no need to deal with Wilkin. Without my assistance, he came to his own end, and it was a sorry one at that.’ He rubbed her forearm, testing its warmth under the cotton of her nightdress. ‘Poor Mrs Bailey is not so fine, but they say she just needs a lot of rest.’
There didn’t seem to be any reaction. He kept up the news delivery.
‘I received a letter from Mr Campbell yesterday. He is fine, too. And Miss Juno sent one along. I must say she is very interested in what we do. And they both asked after you …’ He paused at that and cleared his throat. ‘Mr Campbell told me to tell you that all is well with Toby’s succession. Probate has come through and there’s a tidy sum waiting for Linley to sign for it. He’s thinking to travel here to save her going there.’
CeeCee’s eyes were closed; her breathing seemed normal, her face serene. The bruises on her neck had faded in the obvious areas, and others were appearing, not as new or angry ones, but ones that were deeper and finally coming to the surface.
The doctor still didn’t know if she’d ever come back to him.
It felt like his heart was breaking all over again. ‘I promised you, my love,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve stopped,
and now you must come back, else what was it all for if not for you and me, together?’ He lifted her hands to his lips and pressed them to his face.
He sucked in a breath, battling to staunch the emotion squeezing his chest. ‘Millie is coming along nicely. She’s a brave one, that one. And Annie is bearing up well, looking after the children as well as Millie. That’s just as brave, wouldn’t you say?’ He smiled in case she opened her eyes. ‘Linley helps, too. She’s feeling very useful. And I’ll have you know, she’s written to your suffrage ladies about you. I can’t remember all their names, but you will know who. It looks like Linley will take up our mantle, darling CeeCee.’
His Cecilia Celeste. She had defended her family almost to the death. Stood and fronted the violence, not once, but twice, with no care for her own safety. Violence was not unknown to her; the chance of it finding them was there every day as she undertook her work. But it hadn’t got this close since Jeffrey Laurence.
Long ago, her sister’s husband had threatened violence on CeeCee. That was the man’s last threat. James had made sure of it and never looked back.
But was it wise to continue their work? Was it something they could bear if the violence came home to them again? They had brought this into their lives, but if they didn’t do this work, who would? Who would give those women and children a home, safe from this madness that hid itself behind the so-called sanctity of marriage and the family?
And at what cost to us? I could have lost her this time, lost Linley and Toby as well. I can only be in one place at a time.
His chest expanded uncomfortably at that thought. He hadn’t been there for CeeCee then, had sent Ard instead. Yet he felt he’d done the only thing he could. A split-second decision. Millie had been in his care from the moment she’d crawled up the steps of the Melbourne sanctuary and she deserved to be taken care of.
And if Ard hadn’t been available to be ordered to the other house, to go to CeeCee?
Well, yes. I’d have had to leave Millie. And I would have.
James continued with his report. ‘We have another coming to stay soon. Agnes, remember? She doesn’t have a child, which is a good thing for her. She is escaping a particularly dire situation.’
Sighing heavily, he leaned back in the seat and laced his fingers. He didn’t need to tell CeeCee the particulars right now. She hadn’t stirred. She looked tranquil. Did it mean she suffered no pain, that she was just resting after the ordeal, the shock, and that she was only taking time to heal?
Emotion bunched in his throat. He pulled himself together, let her hands lie on the bed, and continued with his news.
‘And Ard O’Rourke is on his new block here. Lovely hundred acres with river frontage. His family have come back and they’ll be building it up with him. I believe he has a sister who’ll return to live and work on the place, too. Fruit and vegetables are their expertise, and now they’ve some good knowledge of irrigation. But Ard’s intent on breeding horses. So he says there’s much to learn. Meantime, for wages, he’ll find work on the boats, if he can.’ He scraped forward in the chair and took her hands. ‘I don’t know how, but he and Linley need to find each other again. They have a baby to raise.’
Did he see a tiny smile then? No. No, just imagined he did. Wished he did.
‘CeeCee, come back,’ he whispered, a hoarse cry at the back of this throat. He pressed her hand to his face.
Come back.
Fifty-Three
Ard had been discharged before Linley had come back to see him. Not that he thought she would, but he’d hoped for it.
Over two weeks now. Two weeks of listening to his father boom about the plans for the new block. ‘Rivermore’ Pa wanted to call it, though Eleanor had her reservations, so as yet the place was still unnamed. Ard thought ‘O’Rourke’s Run’ would be the obvious name, but his mother shrugged and glanced at his father. Liam had come and gone again, stating that he didn’t care what it was called as long as he had somewhere to stay when he returned.
They’d ordered root-stock of apricot and peach and olive. Lorcan had visited a Mr Lenne over the way on the Campaspe River, only a few miles away. He’d introduced himself to the orchardist, keen to glean his advice and to strike up a friendship. Mr Lenne’s place was remarkably productive and Lorcan had indeed been impressed.
On their new block, vegetable stock of potato, cabbage and cauliflower was already in the ground, and runners had been constructed for peas and beans. Eleanor looked forward to the first crop of her own apricots, though she knew it would be a few years off. She was happily surprised and delighted that Mr Lenne had sent some home with Lorcan for her.
While Ard convalesced, his was the job of measuring up and ordering timbers for the house’s flooring. He drove the cart back into Echuca to pick up supplies—his body adjusting to the ride to and fro. He was also to bring back bits and pieces of furniture so they could get by until their own came upriver by boat.
Loading up the last of the stores from the grocer’s, he heard a familiar voice call out.
‘Ard!’
And there was Sam Taylor, driving a laden cart covered with rope taut across its cargo. Pie was tied to the cart and Bolter was harnessed.
‘G’day, Sam,’ he called and waved. He had written to Sam as promised, once his parents had arrived. ‘I didn’t expect you for another week.’
Sam pulled his cart over to the side of the road to tail Ard’s. He tied off the reins and leapt off the seat. ‘Told you no point staying in Bendigo. Me pa said I could help you out. So here I am. And there might be paid work besides, somewhere.’ Dusting himself down, he lifted off his ragged and sweat-stained hat and swiped his forearm over his face.
‘If you’re lucky.’ Ard leaned on his cart, rested a bit. Sometimes the wind just got knocked out of him for no good reason. Didn’t last for long, but he wasn’t pushing it. He looked past Sam to the cart he’d pulled in. ‘What you got in there?’
‘Your ma’s table, lad, and everything else I could fit on that wasn’t burned. Took me four days to get here.’ Sam drew up an elbow and knocked Ard’s shoulder. Then he balked at Ard’s face. ‘Oh, your shoulder. Sorry, mate. You said in your letter.’
Ard’s eyes watered at the soft thud. Pain shot up his neck and into his face. He knocked off his hat and slid to the ground.
Sam’s eyes popped. Dropping to his haunches, he laid a hand on Ard’s other shoulder. ‘Jesus, look at you. I’m sorry, laddie.’
Sweat broke out on Ard’s forehead, and for a moment it felt like his eyeballs were spinning.
‘Ard? Ard!’ A woman’s voice rang out.
His gaze widened. He felt Sam slide around beside him to see who was shouting.
A whoosh of feminine skirts and a faint whiff of something flowery wafted up Ard’s nose.
‘Ard, are you all right?’ She dropped beside him and a slender hand gripped his forearm.
He stared at Linley.
Sam stood up. ‘Miss Linley. Fancy seeing—’
‘Help me, Sam. Help me get him up.’
Sam held his hands out. ‘No, no, perhaps he’s best on the ground a minute. He took faint or something. He’s all right, I reckon.’
Linley stayed where she was, staring at Ard. He tried to focus properly on her.
Linley.
A man from the footpath had a grip on her pram. ‘Miss? Your baby carriage … Miss!’
Linley broke away from Ard’s side. ‘Thank you,’ she said to the gentleman. He eased the perambulator off the footpath and handed it over to her. She checked inside at its occupant and breathed a sigh.
Ard swallowed down a curling nausea. Stars in his eyes were fading and his scalp had returned to normal but the aching thud at the back of his shoulder still sucked the voice from him.
Sam turned to her. ‘Miss Linley.’ He peered into the baby carriage. ‘Is this Mary’s baby?’
‘Yes. Mary’s baby.’ She ducked back down to Ard. ‘Are you all right?’ She repeated, gripping his ch
in. ‘Ard?’
He nodded. Linley. And the baby. ‘Linley,’ he croaked. He took her hand and held it at his face.
‘What’s the matter with you? What happened?’ Linley turned to his friend. ‘Sam?’
Sam was still looking into the pram, staring hard at the baby. He frowned, looked at Ard, then turned back again. ‘I just told him I brought his ma’s table.’ He looked into the pram again. ‘The big sook fainted.’
‘He got stabbed in his side, Sam, under his shoulder.’
‘Yeah. I forgot that for a moment.’
Ard dropped Linley’s hand. ‘I’m all right, got my breath back. Give me a hand up.’ He waved to Sam.
Sam thrust out his arm and Ard looped it with his. He clawed his way up the cart. Once standing, he rested on it, steadied, and leaned over to look into the pram.
So did Sam. ‘Ard, lad.’ His voice was low and rough. ‘Have you got something to tell your best mate?’
Ard inhaled, ignoring Sam. He felt Linley bristle beside him. ‘Linley, please, let me call on you.’ He took her hands in his. They seemed dwarfed against his callused fingers and big-boned knuckles.
Sam moved fast. ‘I’m going to, uh, get old Bolter here a drink,’ he said and climbed back into his seat. ‘I’ll wait for you over there, Ard.’ He pointed to the horse trough down the street. ‘And we’ll take this stuff to your place,’ he called over his shoulder.
Ard looked back at Linley and the still-sleeping baby.
She rocked the pram a little. ‘I would have thought you too busy now, Ard O’Rourke, to come calling.’ The pram rocked some more.
‘Busy, yes. We are.’ Ard just knew she was going to try and get away quickly. He swallowed down the urge to babble. ‘Building up the orchard. I’ve still got the floors to do in my cottage.’ He thumbed at the timber in the back of his cart. ‘I’ve got to—’
‘Very interesting.’ The pram rocked and rocked.
He looked down at Toby again, his heartbeat thudding in his throat. ‘He looks very fine, Linley.’
