Jessica

by Bryce Courtenay

  ‘Blame her?’ Jack looks bewildered. ‘I’m not blaming Jessie. What Billy did was wrong. It’s terrible sad that he’ll hang for it, but I suppose he must. But Jessica did the right thing by him. She told his side in the court.’ Jack looks at both of them in turn. ‘I know you think I shouldn’t be talking like this when it’s my mother and sisters he killed.’

  ‘Jack, there’s no need,’ Meg cries, ‘you’ve been through enough!’

  ‘No, no, I want to go on. I don’t want to go into it, you know, the badness of it all. It makes me too sad even to think about what was done to my family. Maybe, when I go to the war it’ll help me to forget. But, still and all, Billy did have a side and Jessie had the courage to say so.’

  ‘Jack, my daughter’s not well, she’s ... ‘

  Jack, normally polite, talks over Hester. ‘What Jessie did, knowing she’d be hated and misunderstood by everyone, was very brave and I take my hat off to her.’

  Jack pauses. Meg sees that he’s sweating and he wipes his hand over his face so that it comes away wet and he wipes it on his napkin. ‘The three of us were real good mates before what happened to Billy, and she stuck by him right to the last. She gave poor Billy some dignity to take to his grave. It was me who let him down.

  I admire Jessie more than I can say.’ Jack is silent with his head bowed, then he raises it slowly and looks first at Meg and then at Hester. ‘That’s all I wanted to say, except that I’d like to leave her a note. To say goodbye. Will you let me do that?’

  It is more than Jack has said in all the time they have known him.

  After Jack has departed Hester tears open the sealed envelope he’s given her for Jessica and unfolds the single page within it. Hester is surprised at the very few words on the page. Jack’s hand is clear and well formed, the way they teach them at the King’s School.

  Goodbye, Tea Leaf.

  See you when I get back.

  Yours, ever,

  Jack.

  Hester passes the note over to Meg. ‘Hmph! We should’ve told the stupid boy. We should’ve told him whose bastard she’s got in her stomach. That’d fix him proper! It looks like our fight’s not over yet, Meg.’

  Meg looks up from the letter she holds. Her dark eyes are bright with her hatred, her voice close to tears. ‘No, Mama, it’s not over yet,’ she says fiercely. ‘Jack is mine!’

  CHAPTER NINE

  The date is announced for the hanging of Billy Simple. He will pay his final debt to society at the new Long Bay Prison in Sydney on the sixth of August, 1914. The announcement is made just two weeks after Jack Thomas has commenced training camp. By some terrible quirk of fate, he will be riding in his passing-out parade as the trapdoor opens to end Billy Simple’s short, sad life.

  On the day Billy Simple’s hanging is announced, Jessica takes herself down to the river to weep. She has written to him on three occasions, hoping that her letters will be read to him, that they will comfort him in his loneliness. Joe had taken her letters and posted them — he’d even provided the pen and ink and paper, although he’d made her promise first that she wouldn’t try to write to Jack Thomas. However, after extracting her promise, he’d never asked her why she wanted the paper, though she’d told him it was to write to Billy Simple. Poor Billy has no one. His family up near the Lachlan have disowned him. Jessica sees him sitting forlorn in his death cell, not understanding. She has heard no word since the day he was sentenced in Wagga. She recalls how Joe had told her that day: ‘Best forget him, think of him as already dead, girlie.’

  Jessica is now showing enough so that any experienced female eye will observe her condition and she is forced to wear a cotton skirt to accommodate her pregnancy. Joe is spending the days for the most part fixing up the boundary rider’s hut, though Jessica, busy on another part of the property, is not aware of this. She is kept close to the homestead and if anyone is seen to approach Hester makes her come indoors immediately and go to her room. If this is not possible, she has to remain out of sight until the visitor has departed. Already there are whispers in the farming community that she has taken leave of her senses. When Hester or Meg are asked about Jessica at St Stephen’s they pause briefly and seem strangely hesitant to speak about her, which heightens the suspicions of the stickybeaks.

  The shearing season is almost upon them and, as usual, George Thomas has called for the locals to front up at the shearing shed. But Joe has been rejected for the first time in twenty years. For the past three years Jessica’s been his rouseabout and together they have managed to get through their quota, though with increasing difficulty as Joe’s back has grown worse each season. But now, without her, Joe is simply an old man with rheumatism who is unfortunate enough to have to depend on George Thomas, an employer without sentiment or loyalty. So Joe is given the heave-ho and his days as a shearer at Riverview Station are over. Joe is also aware that Jessica’s involvement with Billy Simple’s capture will have put the kybosh on further work from George Thomas. Without Jessica at his side on the farm, and with no money coming in from the shearing season, Joe is in a state of despair. The drought, except for a little winter rain, has gone on for three years and he has been forced to kill off his lambs. His cattle are four legs and a casement of skin and bone. What sheep are left won’t bring enough wool to buy feed for them through another summer of drought — and the mortgage payments on the property are already six months in arrears.

  Joe has lapsed into a state of darkness where he can barely speak for the fear that tortures him. He rises in the morning in silence and returns home to stare at his plate for ten minutes before forcing himself to eat what is set before him. Then, after tea in the evenings, with a grunt, he is off to his sleep-out. Jessica, whose room is nearest to the back of the house, can hear him crying out in his sleep.

  Joe no longer tolerates her working at his side, nor will he speak to her beyond the basic necessities. Jessica is isolated by her father’s private torture and his loss of trust in her, and even more so by Meg and Hester, who have placed her in purgatory ever since Jack Thomas departed for Sydney.

  Shortly after sunrise one day in the same week as the date of Billy Simple’s hanging is announced, Meg enters the kitchen wide-eyed and sobbing. Hester, who is busy at the stove stirring porridge, puts down her wooden spoon and takes her in her arms.

  ‘What is it, precious?’ Hester asks in alarm.

  ‘Mama, my monthly has come!’ Meg wails.

  Hester holds her daughter in her arms for some time, fussing, patting her back, sharing her grief, for she feels the shock of Meg’s news almost as greatly as her daughter.

  It has all finally come to an end. Hester’s plans to have Jack Thomas for her elder daughter have foundered. Ever since Meg was fourteen years old, they have had their eye on him, and everything that Meg has striven for is so that she will be the mistress of Riverview one day. Even when they thought Jack had been disinherited, Meg had found it difficult to think beyond this prospect. Now, after employing every device at their command, they have finally failed, defeated by nature.

  After a while Hester pushes a sobbing Meg away. ‘Sit, dearest, I’ll make you a nice cuppa,’ she says gently. She is suddenly conscious of the porridge burning, so hastens back to the stove and stirs the pot quickly. She reaches for the kettle which sits on the back hob and pours a little water into the stiffening oatmeal, then uses what remains to make a pot of tea.

  ‘Oh God, it’s not fair,’ Meg cries, banging her fist on the kitchen table. ‘That little bitch has got pregnant and I can’t.’ Hester places a tin mug of hot, sweet tea in front of her daughter. ‘It’s not fair! It’s not fair!’ Meg howls. ‘Meg, shut up!’ Hester says. Meg looks up in alarm. ‘Mama?’

  ‘Shhh! Let me think,’ Hester says. ‘Bawling isn’t going to get us anywhere, girl. Go and wash your face.

  Your father and Jessica will be back from the paddocks any moment to ge
t their breakfast. I want you smiling, you hear? Smiling and happy as though nothing has happened.’

  ‘Smiling? Mama, how can I?’

  ‘Meg, go now. If you can’t come out cheerful you must remain in your room.’

  With Meg and Hester responding to Joe’s dark moods, breakfast is increasingly a silent affair. But this morning Meg, being a real little trouper, has rallied and they speak cheerily enough among themselves. Joe, as usual, says little and slops up his porridge, speaking only in monosyllables usually to demand the salt or more milk or butter.

  Jessica, who has endured almost three weeks of being shunned, has reached a point when she thinks she must be going mad to be punished so. She has lost her confidence and jumps each time Joe grunts at her or her mother plonks a plate of food in front of her. She grows increasingly nervous at Meg’s sly smile and begins to think that her sister takes pleasure from her distress.

  Jessica is frightened and lonely and her body seems to be changing. Her breasts have grown larger and her nipples are sore to the touch and have taken to weeping a clear fluid. Thankfully the queasiness and vomiting in the morning have ceased. But she has no one who can share her concerns or comfort her. Her mother has not given her a single word of advice.

  Jessica is sure of one thing, though — they will not harm the life that is growing in her. She has never thought seriously that she might bear a child, but now she wants the infant she carries with every breath in her body.

  After breakfast Jessica goes off to feed the pigs. Joe is about to leave when Hester asks him to stay and pours him a third cup of tea. She sends Meg away, then pours herself a second cup and sits beside her husband at the table.

  ‘Joe, Meg’s had her monthly. She’s not pregnant,’ Hester announces.

  ‘Well, thank Christ for that,’ Joe says, relieved.

  ‘It’s a great disappointment.’

  ‘Disappointment my arse. It’s justice.’ For the first time in two weeks, Joe smiles. ‘She’s had her comeuppance at bloody last!’

  ‘Joe, listen to me, there’s still a way.’

  ‘Bullshit! Maybe now Meg can be put to work, Gawd knows we need the money.’

  ‘Put to work?’ Hester says, alarmed. ‘Joe, Meg isn’t Jessica, she doesn’t know about sheep and cattle or how to do things about the place.’

  ‘Mike Malloy at the shearing shed says they’re putting up the telegraph at Yanco and they’re looking for a lass who can read and speak nice and who knows everyone. He says Meg could be just the ticket.’

  ‘She’ll do no such thing,’ Hester snorts. ‘Meg is a lady. I haven’t brought her up to work in the post office.’

  Joe looks at Hester wearily. ‘I’ve been rejected at the shed, George Thomas has thrown me out. I’m beaten neck and crop, love. Jessie’s not earning neither — that’s two wages we’ve lost, good money too, the best we earn all year. We’ll lose the run if I can’t meet the bank payments.’ Joe covers his face with his hands. ‘Oh shit, things couldn’t be bloody worse.’

  Hester has never seen him like this — never seen him cry. No sound comes from behind his hands and his shoulders shake. She can feel Joe’s terrible humiliation. He’s not talked about money before, though she knows they’ve come close enough to disaster several times in the past. Joe has somehow always managed to keep his worries to himself, to keep his pride intact and their little drought-struck island afloat in a sea of debt. ‘Joe, I’ve thought of a way.’

  Joe looks up, his eyes angry. ‘What bloody way is that? Meg to give crochet lessons to the landed fucking gentry?’ ‘I don’t know, maybe a way to solve everything.’ Joe shrugs. ‘Hester, you know nothing about making a quid.’

  ‘Be that as it may, Joe Bergman, I know something about making plans.’

  Joe says nothing, cupping his hands around the mug of tea in front of him and staring at the cross-grain in the timber of the table.

  ‘Joe, Jessica doesn’t know that Meg’s pregnant.’

  ‘Meg ain’t pregnant, you just said so.’

  ‘Yes, but Jessica doesn’t know she was supposed to be. We must tell her that Meg is pregnant and is going to have Jack’s child.’

  ‘No! The girl has suffered enough. No, fuck you, Hester, we’ll not make it worse for her, you pleased as punch with Meg and poor bloody Jessica in disgrace!’

  ‘Joe, please, mind your language. Listen to me, it’s important.’ Hester takes a breath. ‘Nobody knows Jessica’s pregnant, do they?’ ‘The doctor bloody knows.’

  ‘That’s just it. Now try to remember, when you saw Dr Merrick did you give him Jessica’s name, her Christian name?’

  Joe scratches his head, trying to recall. ‘No, I just said she was me daughter. You know, “Doctor, I’d like you ter look at me daughter, she’s been chucking up her guts in the mornin’.’”

  ‘You sure of that? He didn’t write anything down?’

  ‘Nah, she said not, when I asked later. She said he took her behind a screen and examined her and asked about the vomiting.’ Joe tries to think if there is anything else. ‘Yeah, now I remember, he called her “my dear” at first and then “Miss Bergman”. That were only the once, when we was talking after, like.’

  , “Miss Bergman”. He said “Miss Bergman”?’ Hester repeats in delight. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah. I dunno. Maybe he said somethin’ behind the screen she forgot to say, but I didn’t hear him say nothing ‘cept questions to me.’

  ‘All right, then. Joe, you’re going to have to go in and see old Dr Merrick and take him a letter from me. Take him in a flitch of your cured bacon as well.’

  Hester then explains her plan to Joe, who is at first reluctant to go along with his wife, though after much convincing he agrees. Desperate to save his family, he sees that in her plan there is a chance to do so, though his conscience is sorely tried. Hester sits down to compose a letter to the Heathwood family doctor.

  Dr Nathaniel Merrick Esq.

  Wagga Wagga

  30 July 1914

  Dear Dr Merrick,

  I trust you are well and in good spirits. Thank you for seeing our daughter Meg and for so very kindly agreeing to keep our untimely news confidential. It is nice to think that in times like these we may turn to the family doctor for compassion and understanding.

  You have seen the comings and goings of three generations of the Heathwood family and I hope you will agree we have always conducted ourselves with the utmost respectability in the Narrandera community.

  We lead a quiet life here in the country so I don’t expect that the townsfolk will come to hear of our most recent misfortune, though it saddens me greatly to think that our daughter has so badly let our little family down. Alas, the problem we face is more than at first it seemed. We have discovered our daughter’s affections have been extended over some months to not one, but two young men.

  Meg admits to a special regard for one particular lad and I am happy to report that he is from a good Protestant family and is not entirely without prospects. The other boy is of the other religion and entirely unsuitable and would, we feel quite sure, make for an unhappy future for our daughter.

  However, we are now faced with a dilemma which I am sure you will readily understand. While we require a letter from you attesting to Meg’s pregnancy, we do not wish you to state its duration.

  The lad she has chosen and who seems to return her affections is afraid to approach his father. He, the boy in question, works on a big station and his father may well be able to prove his son was away on one of the bigger runs at the time you state Meg fell pregnant.

  It would be best for all concerned if you will see your way to state in your letter simply that Meg is expecting, so that we may use this confirmation to its greatest effect when my husband and I visit the father of the young man.

  I would be so very grateful if you will oblige u
s with this preference, as, at your own suggestion, we are anxious to put right this matter as soon as possible so that the child may be born within wedlock. I beg you to destroy this letter so that it may not prove a future source of suffering to us should it ever come into the possession of other interested parties.

  Yours sincerely,

  Hester Bergman (Mrs) nee Heathwood.

  Joe leaves in the morning, riding all day, and is ushered into the old doctor’s surgery in the late afternoon, carrying the flitch of bacon carefully wrapped in cheesecloth. ‘Sit down, Mr Bergman, I had not expected you back so soon,’ Nathaniel Merrick invites.

  Joe tries to conceal his nervous state. He places the bacon down, leaning it against the desk. ‘Doctor, a nice bit o’ bacon, Hester thought you might fancy a slice or two for yer breakfast,’ Joe begins. Then, lost for further words, he adds quickly, ‘Cured with a bit o’ red gum honey, like they done in Denmark.’

  ‘Thank you, very kind of you.’ Nathaniel Merrick clears his throat. ‘What was it you wanted to see me about, Joe?’

  Joe immediately feels more comfortable. ‘Doctor, you remember my wife, Hester Heathwood?’

  The old man hesitates. Joe fears suddenly that he doesn’t remember Hester and the letter will come to naught. ‘Heathwood, ah yes, an old name around these parts. The Heathwoods have always been with me. There were a few of them, still a few around.’

  ‘Yes, well she gimme this letter to give to you.’ Joe takes Hester’s letter from his coat pocket and hands it to the doctor.

  The physician places the envelope down in front of him, then realises Joe is still standing. ‘Sit, Joe, please.’