The Homestead Girls

by Fiona McArthur

  ‘What about your father?’

  ‘He wasn’t there much. He was busy, and disappointed in his life, disappointed in his wife who had succumbed to a lingering illness just as his career star had begun to shine.’ And disappointed in his daughter, who’d bumbled along, shaming him.

  She saw the frown on Billie’s face and winced. She wasn’t looking for sympathy. She had sympathy for her father. A better daughter would have been a hostess for him. Been what her mother had been before the illness. Oh, she’d tried. And failed. Like that time at Melbourne Cup when she’d organised a table for her father and husband and it had been a disaster.

  So it didn’t make sense that he’d encouraged her to marry a man very like himself, when she’d allowed herself to be primped and presented in clothes she hated, but she’d thought she’d done something right. She’d thought they’d be able to have a baby and she couldn’t wait for that. But that had been the most foolish thing of all.

  It hadn’t taken long for Quinton to realise his mistake in marrying her and she’d easily recognised the disappointment in his eyes. She’d managed to alienate the two men in her life she had most wanted to please. So no baby, and eventually no marriage, which was a good thing because Quinton’s lack of respect for her had only made her worse.

  When he’d left she’d done something crazy, taking herself to uni and becoming a registered nurse. And in doing so, had found a strength she didn’t know she possessed. After reading a memoir of someone very much like Lorna must have been, she’d decided the Flying Doctor Service was where she wanted to be.

  And she’d never looked back.

  She straightened her shoulders and tried to drop the guilt. She bet Quinton hadn’t given her another thought. Why hadn’t that penny dropped before? ‘I was stupid and married a man my father suggested. Stupid . . .’

  There was no judgement in Billie’s voice. ‘Sometimes we make poor choices. Then we have to get out.’

  ‘You’re a widow, aren’t you?’

  ‘That’s a story for another time,’ Billie said, as she folded the new soft nightgown.

  Billie looked sad. Daphne frowned and forced her mind back to clothes. Forced her mind back to happy things. Things that made her smile. Things that made Billie smile. It was a lovely nightgown. Extravagant. It was the result of her being urged on by Billie to splash out on herself for a change—and she had with a vengeance. The soft collar was still fairly high-necked with ribbons and made her feel feminine. The nicest thing about that little outfit was she felt like she belonged in it—she wasn’t trying to climb into something that made her feel awkward.

  ‘Woohoo.’ Billie swung a bra around on her finger. ‘I do love the frillies.’

  Billie looked happy again as the subject shifted and Daphne watched the bundle of underwear settle into the case. The panties were incredibly soft and lacy, with a matching bra and, although they were admittedly waist-high and comfortable, they were also so . . . pretty. The result of more pushing from Billie to buy. It had been fun. And they were things she really liked.

  Her mood lifted. ‘Not that I’m showing them to anyone.’

  Billie raised her eyebrows suggestively. ‘You never know. Rex might be more of a devil than you expect.’

  Daphne laughed. ‘Two rooms. But it’s a nice thought.’

  They both looked at the no-crush, pale pink silk racing dress with the heart-shaped lace insert and shared a conspiratorial glance. ‘You’ll knock his socks off.’

  ‘Hope so.’ Imagine if he did fancy her in that. It was designed to fall from her breasts, not squash them, and it floated over her waist and then stopped at her knees to show off her legs. Billie was right. She did have nice legs, short but shapely, and Billie had dragged her for a pedicure and to the spray-tan salon, where she’d almost died standing in front of that girl with only a paper bra and bikini on. But, for the first time in her life, she was proud of her legs and feet, and the medium heels that were actually comfortable and gave her more height.

  She watched Billie close the lid of the case. She couldn’t believe everything was in there and it wouldn’t crush. Even the grey-and-pink fascinator that matched the dress was crush resistant.

  Billie must have read her mind. ‘The hat makes the outfit. It matches everything. It looks great.’

  She’d try to wear it.

  ‘What time is Rex picking you up?’

  ‘In an hour.’

  ‘Then you’d better get dressed.’

  Billie watched them drive away with a contented feeling.

  ‘They’d call that a dirty weekend in my day,’ Lorna observed with a strained twinkle in her faded blue eyes as she waved.

  ‘I hope so.’ Billie carried the teapot and put it on the wicker table and Lorna followed with the milk jug. Lorna was quiet this morning. In fact, Lorna didn’t look herself at all. And Soretta had mentioned she thought Lorna was not on her game.

  Billie tried to cheer her up. ‘I love the way Lachlan enjoys your company. You’re the one I see him laugh with.’

  Lorna brushed that away. ‘It’s easy to talk to a man at my age. I know I have nothing to worry about.’

  Billie laughed and winked. ‘You never know. Handsome widower like that. It could be a romance,’ Billie teased.

  Lorna gave one of her trademark snorts. ‘What do they call older ladies that go chasing younger men? Cougars. I’d be a cougar.’

  ‘There’s not that much difference in your ages.’ Billie tried to hold back the grin. She couldn’t think of anyone less like a cougar than Lorna and it was good to see the older lady had brightened slightly. ‘You’re a card. You know we love having you here.’

  ‘All things come to an end. I won’t be here forever.’

  ‘Well, you can’t possibly leave until you’re sick of us. We won’t have it.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Lorna. ‘It looks very dry,’ she changed the subject, and pointed out the dryness of the paddock.

  Billie accepted the diversion and took it all in. Despite the dusty barrenness she enjoyed the vista of grey-green saltbush over red-and-orange rocks. The occasional glint of mica catching the sunlight. Once again she marvelled that cattle and sheep could find sustenance in such an arid landscape and remembered school excursions in her youth out to the old mines and stations that ringed the town.

  She looked down at the tablecloth Lorna insisted they put down at morning teatime. Soretta’s grandmother’s china shone and clinked. It was all so homey, Billie thought. Morning tea on the verandah for anyone present around ten had become an institution. Like the evening drinks.

  Lachlan had started to join them when he was in, but today he’d ventured to drive the utility across to the pens to assess the sheep. He’d be back in time for he and Lorna to spend the afternoon together at their new Saturday pastime. A bit of a flutter, Lorna called it. A couple of beers and an afternoon of fifty cents on the nags, Lachlan agreed, was a very reasonable thing.

  There’d been a spring in his step this morning and Billie suspected Lachlan was at least halfway back to his former strength.

  Lorna sighed. ‘I hope what’s-his-name sweeps her off her pretty little feet. That girl needs a good loving.’

  ‘Rex,’ Billie offered.

  ‘I knew his name just wouldn’t sit on my tongue. Nothing will today.’

  Then she sighed and deflated like a puffer fish losing its air. Her shoulders sagged and her hands came down to rest despondently in her lap. ‘I’ll be sad when my holiday is up.’

  Billie frowned. She thought about Blue Hills Station without Lorna’s brand of common sense and wicked humour and the huge gap she would leave. ‘Do you have to go, Lorna? We love your company.’

  To her distress Lorna’s eyes filled with tears. ‘That’s very sweet of you, dear.’ Lorna reached over and patted her hand. ‘Lately I seem to be losing the plot and my memory isn’t what it was.’ She drew a shaky breath. ‘Can I tell you something, Billie?’

  ‘Of cours
e.’

  ‘It even took me a few minutes to remember where I was this morning when I woke up. It was the most horrible feeling.’ A tear slipped down her cheek and Billie felt her heart squeeze. ‘You don’t want to be living with a mad woman,’ she said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

  Billie thought back to Lorna’s arrival at the breakfast table. She and Daphne had been discussing the clothes she would take on her weekend away and she remembered thinking that Lorna had been quiet. Distracted. Remembered again Soretta’s concern.

  ‘Perhaps you’ve been doing more than usual?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Less probably. My daughter-in-law might be right. Maybe I need to think about relocating to the retirement village.’

  Billie studied her more closely. Apart from her slightly hectic cheeks her face looked pale. Her fingers shook now that Billie was looking properly. ‘Do you feel well?’

  Lorna sighed. ‘As well as I can be for an old woman.’

  Now that didn’t sound like Lorna, and Billie leant forward to study her further. She listened properly to the thread of panic in the usually calm and no-nonsense voice.

  The older lady went on. ‘I’m tired, getting confused, and I can’t be a nuisance to you lovely ladies forever.’

  Billie considered her. And started there. ‘You are not a nuisance’ Her brows rose as a thought crashed in. ‘Maybe you need to see a doctor?’ she said. ‘I’m a doctor. Maybe you just need a check-up. Some blood tests? A urine check? Urinary infections can cause even full-blown confusion in older ladies that goes away when the antibiotics kick in.’ Delirium or dementia?

  Lorna looked up and frowned. She straightened in her chair and her trembling lip made Billie’s eyes sting. ‘Can I make an appointment?’

  Billie reached across and took Lorna’s thin, veined wrist in hers and felt her pulse. It was bounding. ‘I’m pretty sure I can fit you in now. Then I’ll take the blood and specimens and drop them into the hospital pathology. I want to pick something up from town this morning anyway.’

  ‘Do the tests here, you mean?’ Lorna gave her a watery smile. ‘Seven day service. Just like when my husband was alive.’

  ‘And I have a starter pack of antibiotics while we wait for a result. The more I think about it the more I do think something else is going on.’ She took her fingers from Lorna’s wrist and patted her hand.

  ‘And no more of this talk of us wanting you to go. You leave when you’ve had enough of us. Look how much Mia’s schoolwork has improved since you took to sitting with her in the evenings. She’d never let me do that. We’ll sort it out.’ She stood up. ‘Stay here. I’ll just get my doctor’s bag. I haven’t used it since I moved up here.’

  FIFTEEN

  Daphne had never been in an aircraft smaller than the King Air B200 but she wasn’t worried. She knew the pilot.

  ‘What are you smiling about?’ Rex asked as they pulled up at the private end of the airfield, where the authentic Auster, a small four-seater fabric aircraft that Rex had lovingly restored, was waiting for them. His crinkled eyes held a tenderness she hadn’t seen directed at her before and it sat in her chest like a freshly heated wheat bag. Warm, radiant and heavy with promise.

  ‘Just thinking how much faith I had in the pilot.’

  ‘Had?’

  She had to laugh at that. ‘Have.’

  He gave her a wink. ‘That’s lucky,’ he said, pointing at the sky. ‘Though the weather promises to be smooth with good visibility.’

  His eyes were alight and he wasn’t quite rubbing his hands as he looked at his ancient plane, but she could tell he was excited. It added to the happy feeling in her chest to see him so animated. ‘I’ll take a level trip. Have you always been a fan of flying?’

  ‘Yep,’ he said. ‘Used to lie on my back in the paddock and watch the eagles wheel in the sky. Vowed I’d do that someday.’

  ‘I’m glad you feel that way. It’s nice.’

  ‘You’re nice.’ He smiled at her and she saw a hint of promise as they pulled their overnight cases from the boot. Before his words even sank in, as if he knew she’d be stuck in a confusion of embarrassment because he’d complimented her, he went on. ‘Have you been to the races anywhere up here?’

  ‘No.’ Thank goodness for a change of subject. She resisted the urge to fan her face with her hand.

  ‘I’ve been to a couple of meets,’ he said, closing the boot. ‘I do enjoy a country race day.’

  She hurried into speech, almost falling over her words in case he thought she wasn’t talking enough. ‘Lorna bets every Saturday. Mia showed her the secrets of internet punting, though how a sixteen-year-old girl would know that is baffling.’

  She shook her head with wonder. Mia had many hidden talents. ‘Now Lorna backs every Sydney race on the card and she’s started Lachlan on it. They make a day of Saturdays. Everyone else laughs.’

  Rex raised his brows. ‘Her son might be worried about that.’

  ‘I doubt it. They only bet fifty cents a race and she seems to come out ahead every week. Unlike Lachlan, who seems to do his seven dollars fifty for the day. One week she almost got the quadrella with a fifty-cent bet and the pay-out was about ten thousand!’

  He took her case, sent her a look when she tried to pick it up, and she put up her hands. Okay. You can carry my bag. Sheesh. He’d opened the door for her when they’d left this morning, too. She loved it.

  ‘Funny set-up you girls have out there. How’s Lachlan coping with all the women?’

  ‘He’s quiet. Though Soretta says he’s almost boisterous compared to what he was before the accident. But he seems to be fine with the invasion.’

  Rex put the cases down beside the aircraft, and scratched the back of his head. ‘I don’t know how I’d go with that many women living in my house.’

  ‘He gets on well with Lorna, or he can go to the other end of the house or out on the farm when he wants to get away.’

  She’d wondered about the man next to her. She should probably wait for later but the conversation was so easy now and there’d be no talking once they were up in the air. ‘Have you ever lived with a woman, Rex?’

  ‘Once, a long time ago. I was married. But it only lasted a year. I was working in Nigeria, flying for an oil company and we were saving to buy our own home.’

  He shrugged and began to walk around the plane. Checking rudders and wind speed instruments. The wings, the tail. The wooden propeller.

  She could watch him all day, except her eyes were drawn back to his face as he dropped the news she’d had no idea about after six months of working together.

  His voice was matter-of-fact. ‘She found someone else while I was away and I guess I was lucky that I didn’t miss the signs and continue in ignorant bliss for years. She seemed to think I was making a big deal of it and was shocked when I asked for a divorce.’

  She licked her lips. May as well get it all out there before they took off. ‘My husband preferred more sophisticated women and that wasn’t me. He only married me for my father’s patronage. Neither of them were patient men.’

  Rex shot her a look and his eyes were kind. ‘Seems unfair that we pay for their lack of foresight, I always thought. But at least we can move on and they’re stuck with themselves.’

  Daphne blinked in surprise, and from somewhere deep inside herself she started to relax. To smile. And finally to laugh.

  ‘I’ll try to look at it that way from now on.’

  Rex paused, holding her eyes with his level gaze. ‘He was a fool, Daphne. You’re the real deal.’

  He opened the passenger door for her but before she could move past him he put his hand gently on her arm. ‘I’ve watched you the last six months and you’re one of the most sincere people I’ve ever met. You don’t always get that with sophistication.’

  Her face flamed. The blotches would be ugly but there was nothing she could do about it. She wished she could start accepting that, too.

  Billie’s gentle reminder rang
in her ears: Take compliments graciously. ‘Thank you, Rex. I enjoy working with you, too.’ Phew. That hadn’t been too hard.

  ‘Good. Jump in. We’ll get going on this weekend shall we?’ he said as he winked at her. ‘Now for the exciting part.’

  There were more exciting things to come? She thought of her new clothes. Little did he know!

  The small red-and-yellow aircraft shone in the sunlight. Rex stowed the gear behind the seats with care. Daphne decided she’d buy herself two smaller soft-sided bags for next time. Next time?

  ‘Lucky you travel light.’

  ‘And you,’ she said, allowing herself to revel in the pleasure of being here. On a weekend away. With a man. With Rex! Except for her not-so-memorable honeymoon, she’d never done this before with a man, and the only other times had been when she’d attended those two-day midwifery conferences in Sydney, which had always been on her own.

  He pointed to the black line on the wing where she had to put her foot, then nodded in appreciation that she had the flat slip-on pumps Billie had suggested she buy for climbing in and out of the aircraft. It had been a good choice. She couldn’t imagine scratching Rex’s little plane with nasty heels.

  Then her leg was through and she sank down into one of the two side-by-side cockpit seats. Both sides had hand and feet controls and she stayed well away from the U-shaped rudder.

  Rex leaned in to help her with her seatbelt. His hands were quick and confident—and impersonal. ‘This used to be a Flying Doctor plane down in Tasmania when they flew around without radios in the early sixties. That’s why I fell in love with it. I heard a story of them taking out the back window in a plane like this and feeding a bloke in through that way on a spine board.’