by Tony Parsons
‘Have you thought about starting your family, Susan?’ Catriona asked.
‘Not much,’ Susan replied with startling candour.
‘Don’t you want children?’
‘Not for some years, Catriona. I feel like I haven’t had any life yet myself,’ Susan said. ‘Well, I haven’t, being away at school for all those years. At least you had a trip overseas.’
‘What does Michael have to say about you not wanting to start a family?’ Catriona asked curiously.
‘Oh, he’s not too concerned for the moment. You know what young men are like – give them that and they’re happy,’ Susan said. ‘Besides, Michael and I are very much in demand on the court.’ Susan couldn’t resist making a reference to her tennis prowess because it was about the only area where she had superiority over Catriona.
‘It seems to me that tennis is a poor substitute for a family, Suse,’ Catriona said. ‘Look, Susan, we’ve been friends a long time and talked girl talk from way back. Is something wrong?’
‘Oh, it’s all right for you, Catriona. You’ve got a dreamy husband and you love him,’ Susan said fiercely.
‘Are you saying you don’t love Michael, Susan?’
‘Marriage isn’t a bed of roses for everyone, Catriona. I married Michael when I knew I couldn’t have David,’ Susan stormed.
‘Now, hang on, Suse. If that’s the case then you’ve got nobody to blame but yourself,’ Catriona retorted.
‘Well, what else could I do? I didn’t want to go to university and I certainly didn’t want to do a boring secretarial course. They didn’t need me at home and I’m not quite good enough to play tennis professionally. Marriage seemed the best option at the time. I don’t have to work at a boring job and Michael is still doing well enough to afford good clothes and nice holidays. But as I said, it’s not a bed of roses, Catriona.’
‘Well, you made it so you have to lie in it, Susan,’ Catriona said a mite tartly.
‘Don’t be like that, Catriona. So I made a mistake. I’m not the only one. If I was with the right man, I’d have a family like a shot. I know that must sound awful, but you don’t know how lucky you are to have David. All the girls say so. Playing house and having a family with David must be a dream come true. I mean, he is such a hunk.’
At that moment the hunk, as Susan called him, came up the front steps. He was whistling and presented a very cheerful picture. In grey gaberdine trousers and a blue shirt he was the personification of the picture-book young grazier.
‘Darling, you’re right on time,’ Catriona said, and kissed him.
‘Susan, you’re looking well,’ he said. Susan kissed him with what Catriona thought was a little too much enthusiasm. Susan had sat near David at the little primary school down the road and had had tender feelings for him for years, which grew the day David came to the girls’ rescue when Wade Missen and Stanley Masters had tried to attack them. Well, it had been Catriona they were after first, but Susan knew they would have got to her, too.
Catriona watched this display of affection with some trepidation. Susan always carried on like that with David. The way she had kissed him at Catriona’s own wedding had been over the top, and then there was the way she had behaved the day she married Michael. Of course, Susan had let too much champagne go to her head that day, but that was really no excuse.
And it seemed to Catriona that David’s compliment about the way Susan looked gave Susan reason to gloat. It was not that David had said anything wrong but he had highlighted Susan’s appearance which she felt, in comparison to her own heavily pregnant form, put Susan at a distinct advantage. In crimson trousers and a red-and-white blouse, Susan looked slim, stylish and very attractive. It had always been said that next to Catriona Campbell, Susan Cartwright was the best-looking girl in the district. But Susan wasn’t looking and feeling seven months pregnant – she had been playing a lot of tennis, and was trim, taut and terrific. That was what Catriona thought as she looked at her old school friend engrossed in an animated conversation with David. There would always be attractive young women like Susan ready to turn on the charm for David. Cartiona burned. She wanted to say ‘Don’t kiss David like that, Susan.’ But she knew Susan would laugh and reply ‘Like what, Catriona?’ Catriona would look foolish and appear as if Susan’s kisses mattered.
A glowing, energised Susan monopolised the conversation over lunch. Catriona felt that a lot of it went over David’s head. At one point, he looked across the table at her and winked, and Catriona took pleasure in the secret knowledge that her husband was merely being polite to her lunch guest. While she took some comfort from that, it did not alter the fact that Susan looked great. Catriona knew that perhaps later, years later, there would be other attractive women who offered more serious competition than Susan.
David talked politely for a few moments after lunch and then announced that he would be at Glen Morrison for the afternoon. Susan got up and kissed him goodbye. She could have just said goodbye, Catriona thought. David bent down and kissed Catriona and told her to take a rest because she looked a little bit tired. So I don’t look fresh and glowing like Susan, Catriona thought.
Susan stood at the window and watched David walk down the front steps and then out to his utility. Yes, I would willingly start a family with David MacLeod, she thought. She had once believed she had a chance with David but it was only ever Catriona that he wanted.
Catriona’s pregnancies were planned and executed with clinical perfection. Her second baby was born two years after her first – a girl, whom they named Moira. Again Catriona fed her for a short while and then turned her over to Lottie and resumed her exercise routine. Catriona was happy to have produced a son and a daughter. David loved the cute dark-haired little girl but he also wanted more sons, and made no secret of the fact. Catriona’s love for her husband transcended the discomfort of pregnancy, and even overcame her fears about losing her looks.
‘I’ll make a deal with you, darling,’ she said. ‘I’ll have another baby and if it’s a boy, that will be it. If it’s a girl, I’ll try once more.’
‘You’re a bottler, Cat,’ he said, and kissed her affectionately. He knew he would have at least three children and perhaps four.
‘If they’re all girls, you’ll just have to make do with them,’ she said.
Catriona did not show any greater interest in her daughter than she had in her son. They were never neglected in any way but Lottie was responsible for more of their early upbringing than Catriona. The truth of the matter was that Catriona’s feelings were less maternal and more directed to pleasing her husband.
Two years after Moira was born, Catriona gave birth to her second son. In an act of unequalled generosity, so thought Catriona, David agreed to call the boy Angus, which delighted the Campbells. David now had his three children. More particularly, he had two sons to take over the activities of High Peaks Pastoral Company. He didn’t have any expectation that his daughter would remain permanently with them.
Catriona was immensely relieved to be free of any further pregnancies. She threw herself into a strenuous program of calisthenics and aerobics and monitored her weight every day. It was wonderful to hear people tell her that she looked fantastic. She had had three children and was still a young woman. Now she could ride with David to her heart’s content. She rode King only occasionally because David had presented her with a great new bay filly, Ajana’s second thoroughbred foal, which David actually liked better than Starana. Catriona called her Davana, in acknowledgement of David’s gift and the great mare that produced her.
David still handled a horse occasionally, but most of the breaking was done by Greg Robertson; Shaun Covers’ time was mostly taken up with the stud cattle. It was Greg who had handled Starana before she was turned over to Angus Campbell’s horse trainer. Originally David had told Angus that he could race her for two years, but he increased the period to three years.
Starana won her first three country races with such ease that Angus s
ent her to Sydney where, after being blocked badly, she ran a fast-finishing second. At her second race in Sydney, the filly won by three lengths. It was an important day for the Campbell and MacLeod families but most especially for Angus. It was one thing to win on a country track but to win at Randwick was something else again. David and Catriona had accompanied the Campbells to Randwick, in all their finery, to mark the occasion.
In her second year of racing, Starana won two country cups and then blitzed a good field of horses in her return race at Randwick. Angus was delighted – there was no telling how far Starana would go. But in her next race the golden mare broke down and was forced to return to Inverlochy for a prolonged spell. Starana had bowed a tendon, stretching it beyond the normal. She was raced again, but once again broke down. Reluctantly, Angus returned her to High Peaks – Starana would never be able to race again.
Greg handled Davana and she was raced only a couple of times the first year. She ran a second and a third, but David felt that she was a lot better than that. The filly was still growing, so they spelled her and brought her back to the track as a three-year-old. Racing in Catriona’s colours, Davana won her first country race by four lengths. Her jockey told David and Catriona that she won it ‘on the bit’, meaning that she had a lot more in reserve. The race marked the beginning of a run of successes such as neither David nor Catriona had imagined possible.
The success of these two fillies from Ajana gave Wilf White enormous pleasure. While Starana had broken down she had been a fine racehorse and there was no doubt in his mind that she would make a great brood mare. He knew that sometimes, just sometimes, a combination of sire and dam produced wonderful horses.
At the close of her first year of racing Davana had won Catriona a bag of money. Davana was being compared with the greatest mares in Australian racing history, so it was not surprising that great racing figures tried to buy her from the MacLeods. The money they were offering was stupendous.
‘What am I to do, darling?’ Catriona asked her husband.
David, like his father, wasn’t a man to beat about the bush. ‘If Davana were mine I’d let her go. You saw what happened to her sister. Davana could break down at her very next race or fall and break her leg. We’ve got Starana to breed from, so we’ve got the blood.’
‘Darling, what’s mine is yours. If you think we should sell Davana, we’ll sell her. It would be nice to keep racing her and to see what she could end up achieving but we’ll see that anyway. And as you say, anything can happen to a horse.’
Catriona had never had to go without money for a day of her life but she had been staggered by the amount she had been offered for Davana. Ajana’s next foal was a colt named Western Star and that would be her last, too, because David felt she had done enough for any mare. People were already offering to buy the colt but Catriona doubted that David would sell him. He could see the stud possibilities for a colt that was brother to Starana and Davana. Moreover, Western Star gave promise of being a great looking individual. Unlike his dam, the colt was a liver chestnut with a white strip on his head and two white rear stockings.
So they let Davana go. David rang Wilf White and told him of their plans to sell Davana. He did not want Wilf to learn about the sale after it was made. Wilf was disappointed that they were not going to keep Davana but recognised that there were risks and that Catriona had made a good business decision. And it was not as if they did not have the blood, because there was Starana with her breeding life ahead of her. There was also the chestnut colt which, Wilf predicted, would be one of the boom sires of the future. Releasing Davana was not done without a pang because Catriona loved horses, and Davana was a very special horse. She recognised, though, that David’s advice was sound. Davana could go on winning races and amassing prize money but she could just as easily break down or be injured in a race fall. It had happened to other good horses and it would continue to happen for as long as horses were raced. But Davana did not break down. She went on her winning way and amassed much more prize money than Catriona had received for her. That was the luck of the business, and neither Catriona nor David had any regrets about selling the mare.
But Starana, the horse that held the MacLeods’ strongest hopes for breeding, did not get in foal. Not the first year and not the second year. David had her inspected by a horse veterinarian and was not very thrilled by what he heard. He had never had much trouble getting their mares in foal and it looked as if they might have a lot of trouble with Starana. He was told she could be afflicted with any one of a number of problems. The first was what was referred to as ‘silent’ heat. The remedy involved getting a vet to examine the mare two or three times a week in the breeding months. Another possibility was that Starana could have an infection.
The more David heard from the experts, the less he liked the idea of messing about with Starana. He put her in the paddock to retire with her mother and more or less forgot about her. Well, not exactly. Both mares were exceptionally quiet and he would feed them from a bucket two or three times a week. Starana would rest her head on his shoulder while he stroked her neck.
The truth of the matter was that David had greater concerns than a thoroughbred mare that would not go in foal. He was not a thoroughbred man and although their foray into the business with Davana had turned out successfully, it had not convinced him to get stuck into breeding thoroughbreds. He was well aware that for every winning horse there were probably hundreds that never won a race. And the costs were prohibitive – the only way the average person could ever race a horse was with syndication, whereby a group of people all put up so much money to buy and race a yearling. Later, if the chestnut colt from Ajana turned out satisfactorily and won races, he might stand him at stud and Greg could look after the business. He, David, certainly did not have time to mess about seeing to the mating of mares.
It was about this time that David received a phone call from Troy Hamilton asking if he could come to see him. Troy and his son Walter owned Strath Fillan, the property that adjoined Poitrel. It was mostly wether country, though the Hamiltons also ran Hereford cattle. David knew that his father, Andrew, had shorn at Strath Fillan and had got on well with Troy and Walter. Troy had been a commando on Timor in the Second World War. They were a family that kept very much to themselves. David had heard that Walter was having health problems. There was also a daughter, but she had married and lived somewhere in Sydney.
Troy was a strong man who had once been rather good-looking. His hair was now grey, which matched his grey eyes. There were lines under his eyes and he had fallen away somewhat since David saw him last. Troy had always attended the annual show and that was where David remembered seeing him.
‘G’day, David … Catriona,’ Troy said, as he came up the steps.
‘Good to see you, Troy,’ David answered as he shook hands.
‘I’ve been meaning to ring you to ask about having a dekko at your cattle down on Glen Morrison, but never got around to it. Ah well, it doesn’t matter now,’ Hamilton said wistfully.
‘What’s the problem, Troy?’ David asked. He sensed there was something wrong.
‘No good beating about the bush, David. I’ve been diagnosed with cancer. I’m going to have an operation, but they don’t give me much chance. That’s one of my problems. The second is that Walter has this Parkinson’s thing. He’s had it for a while but it’s got worse. He’s got a job to hold things now.’
‘Crikey, that’s bloody tough, Troy. How can we help you?’ David asked.
‘I’m wondering, only wondering, if you’d be in a position to buy Strath Fillan from us, David. I realise it’s not a good time to sell properties now with wool the way it is, but I reckoned if I could sell it privately I would save on the commission. The agents have had plenty of commission from me in the past but I want as much money as I can get to give it to Walter. Well, Walter mostly. Beth has to get her share. Walter and I would like you to have Strath Fillan, David. Your father was a good man and we’ve seen wha
t you’ve done with Poitrel and Glen Morrison. You know this country, David. You’ve got the dogs and the horses to work it and I reckoned Strath Fillan would fit in nicely with your other places – Poitrel, especially.’
David looked across at Catriona who had been listening to everything Troy had said. ‘I’ll get a cup of tea,’ she said.
‘What do you reckon, David?’ Hamilton asked. ‘Would you be interested in buying the old place?’
‘To tell you the truth, you’ve caught me on the hop, Troy,’ David confessed. The acquisition of more land always excited him but his plans for expansion had not led him in the area of Strath Fillan. He was even now looking for a grazing property further out; a property where he could breed replacement wethers so that he didn’t have to continually buy them in. Strath Fillan was principally a wether place so that meant even more wethers. And then his mind clicked into gear. Sure, it was a wether place but it was also nearly perfect for horses, hilly and well watered. It would be just the place to stand a stallion and to breed horses. And then there was Greg, who had a girl and wanted to get married. He could put Greg on Strath Fillan. The big problem was that he couldn’t really afford to buy Strath Fillan as well as a property further out, and he needed the latter more than he needed Strath Fillan. It wasn’t that acquiring Strath Fillan didn’t excite him – putting High Peaks, Poitrel and Strath Fillan together would give him more than eleven thousand acres of hill country. Then there was Glen Morrison on top of that. Aberfeldy he regarded quite differently, even though he was topping off some of its cattle on Merriwa country.
‘I’ll have to think about it, Troy. I’m grateful that you’ve come to me and I’m really sorry to hear of your health problems – no one deserves so much bad luck, Troy,’ David said. ‘I’ve been on the lookout for a property further out where I could breed replacement wethers rather than having to continually buy them in. If I bought Strath Fillan I’d have to put off buying the breeding place for a while. That’s my problem, Troy.’
