As Catriona surfaced from a deep sleep, she discovered several things at once. Her arm was firmly smothered in a white plaster, and didn’t hurt any more. She was lying in a proper bed, tucked in with crisp sheets, a soft pillow beneath her head. She snuggled down, relishing the delicious feeling of being clean and comfortable as she took in her surroundings.
She was alone in the small room, but through the open door she could see and hear the bustle of a busy hospital. To Catriona it was a haven of clean sheets, clean smells and friendly faces. There were flowers on the window-sills, bright curtains and bedspreads and polished floors. The nurses looked lovely in their winged caps and starched aprons, and she wondered how they managed to keep them so stiff and white.
As the fog of sleep left her, she realised she’d forgotten about her father. She struggled to sit up and throw off the sheets, but the giddiness made her feel sick and she slumped back into the pillows. She had to find him – had to see that he was all right. Where was Mam? She needed Mam.
As if she’d heard the silent, desperate plea, Velda appeared in the doorway.
Catriona’s initial relief and pleasure in seeing her mother was immediately swept away. Velda’s face was ashen, the cheekbones high and sharply carved, the eyes shadowed. She seemed to have shrunk, to have aged, and she leaned heavily on Mr Kane as he helped her into the chair beside Catriona’s bed.
‘Mam?’ Her voice wavered as the tears blurred her vision. She was frightened – more frightened than she’d ever been.
Velda took her hands. Her fingers were cold, her voice low, the words almost indistinct as she told Catriona her father was dead. ‘He was so brave,’ she sobbed. ‘But the injuries were too serious. The doctors did what they could, but it was too late.’
Catriona was numb. The tears flowed down her face, and the breath was trapped in her throat as she stared at her mother and tried to make sense of what she was saying. It couldn’t be, she thought. There had to be a mistake. Da was strong – he was still a young man – of course he wasn’t dead.
Velda blew her nose and dabbed her tears with a sodden scrap of handkerchief. ‘I shouldn’t have moved him,’ she murmured. ‘I should never have moved him, let alone made him go through that awful journey back here.’ She broke down, her sobs raking her slender body as she buried her face in her hands and gave vent to her anguish.
‘What else could we have done?’ asked Kane as he stood beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Come, my dear. You mustn’t blame yourself.’
Velda lifted a tear-swollen face to him. ‘But I do,’ she wailed. ‘I do.’
Catriona looked from her mother to Mr Kane. The lump in her throat was threatening to choke her, and as the dreadful clamour of reality swirled in her head, she gave in to the knowledge that indeed her da was gone. She would never see him again. Would never hear his voice, or feel his arms around her – would never sit beside him and listen to his stories as he held the reins and steered Jupiter through the Outback.
She began to cry, raging at her mother for letting him die. Raging at her father for leaving her. Raging at Kane for making him take the awful journey here. She shrugged off Velda’s hand. Scorned Kane’s quiet attempts to calm her. She hated him – hated them both. She just wanted her da.
The sharp prick of a needle in her arm closed her eyes and swept her into a place where there was no pain, no anguish – just a void of eternal darkness.
*
When she woke, her head felt as if it was filled with cotton wool, and for an instant she had no memory of what had happened. Then she saw her mother and Kane, sitting by her bed, watching her. ‘I want to see him,’ she said.
Velda reached out and took her hand. ‘That’s not possible, my mavourneen,’ she murmured, her eyes dark with pain. ‘We buried him two days ago. He’s with the angels now, God love his soul.’
Catriona lay back against the pillows, stunned and confused. ‘How can that be?’ she whispered. ‘We only came here today.’
Kane left his chair and sat on the bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he leaned over her and gently brushed away the tendrils of hair from her face. ‘You’ve been a very sick little girl,’ he said quietly. ‘The fever was severe and the doctor thought it best to let you sleep for as long as possible. We’ve been here almost a week.’
Her eyes widened and she looked at her mother for confirmation. How could she lose a whole week? How could she be so ill she hadn’t known that her father was dead? Surely, even in the depths of a fever she should have realised he’d left her?
Velda came and stood at Kane’s side. ‘He’s right, darling,’ she said. ‘You’ve been very sick and I was afraid I would lose you too.’ She gave Catriona a watery smile as she took her hands and held them. ‘Your da never woke up. He didn’t suffer at the end.’
Catriona couldn’t find the words to express all the terrible emotions that were tearing through her.
Velda tucked Catriona’s hands beneath the sheet and stepped back from the bed. ‘The doctor says you can leave here tomorrow, my darling. You’ve made a good recovery, and he says you’re well enough to travel again.’
Catriona stared at the two of them. She didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to go anywhere without her da. How could Mam suggest such a thing? She blinked and tried to concentrate on what Mr Kane was saying.
‘I will take care of you both now,’ he said as he stood and put his arm around Velda’s narrow waist. ‘We leave for Cairns tomorrow.’
Catriona didn’t like the way Mr Kane held her mother, or the way Velda was looking up at him as if her life depended upon him. ‘I don’t want to go to Cairns,’ she said stubbornly. ‘Why can’t we stay here?’
Kane pulled Velda close and murmured something in her ear, and with a sad smile to Catriona, she left the room. He came back to the bed and the mattress dipped again beneath his weight. ‘Your mother is heartbroken, and I don’t believe you wish to cause her further anguish,’ he said softly. He stroked back the hair from her cheek. ‘I think you know how difficult it would be for her to stay here, so be a good girl – if not for me – then for your mother.’
His words might have been softly spoken, but Catriona heard the steely determination underlying them, and knew without a doubt Kane meant to take charge. ‘I am good,’ she sniffed. ‘I just want my da.’
He took her hand and held it on his lap. ‘Of course you’re a good girl,’ he murmured. ‘But we can’t stay here any longer.’ He smiled. ‘The horses and wagon have already been sold,’ he said. ‘I have bought train tickets for us to leave here tomorrow for Cairns where I have been offered work.’ His very blue gaze was steady as he traced the outline of her face with his fingers. ‘From now on, Catriona, I will take care of you.’
Chapter Five
Velda couldn’t bear to visit the cemetery again. She’d cried so many tears she was exhausted as well as frightened. Without Declan what would become of her and Catriona? How would they manage – how would she cope with finding work and shelter when she had so little experience of life outside the travelling troupe?
Catriona listened to the muttered, frantic words and realised her mother was so wrapped up in her own fearful misery, she barely noticed that Catriona was suffering too. Velda seemed to lean on Kane more and more, physically as well as mentally – allowing him to make all the decisions, clinging to him as though she was drowning in a storm. It was as if she didn’t care any more about herself, or her daughter. She moved like a ghost, her animation gone, her energy depleted. She’d given up on life – given up caring.
Catriona helped settle her mother in the station waiting-room, and made sure she was comfortable with a book while they went to pay their last respects to Declan. As Catriona turned in the doorway she saw the book resting unopened on her mother’s lap, her fingers plucking at the pages as she stared into space. With a heavy heart, Catriona eased her arm in the sling and followed Kane to the cemetery.
She couldn’t afford
flowers, so she picked some Kangaroo Paw and wild daisies on the way. It was a pretty cemetery, if such things could be termed ‘pretty’, she thought, as she took in their surroundings. The grass had been recently cut, and the trees were full of birds – it was a quiet, peaceful place, and, in her childish way, she hoped he’d be at rest here. Placing the already wilting flowers on the freshly turned earth, she looked at the crude wooden cross and said goodbye to him.
*
They arrived in Cairns on New Year’s Day, 1933. Catriona was hot, thirsty and tired. Her clothes were filthy from the soot and smuts from the engine, and she longed for a bath and a proper meal.
It had been a long journey from Bundaberg, the train slow, the waiting at various isolated stations interminable. Food had consisted of bread and mutton and endless cups of tea. Their sleeping quarters were the hard benches they sat on and they watched, with little interest, as the scenery rolled out majestically beside them in a never-changing blur of green cane fields, green palms and green ferns.
She stepped down from the train and helped her mother and Kane unload their bags and boxes. Velda was thinner than ever, her face wan and her sweat-stained clothes grubby from the long journey. She had hardly spoken since leaving Bundaberg, had made no effort to comfort Catriona, or even acknowledge her presence. Now she stood on the platform, the hatboxes dangling from her fingers as she stared ahead like a bewildered child.
Catriona struggled to carry the heavy bag. Her wrist had yet to heal properly and she couldn’t lift even the lightest weight.
Kane took the bag from her and gathered up the others. ‘I’ll set them aside in the porter’s lodge,’ he murmured. ‘We’ll come back for them when I’ve organised some transport.’ He smiled down at her and handed over the water-bottle. ‘You look thirsty and tired,’ he said kindly. ‘It won’t be long before we get to the hotel.’
‘Is it very far, Mr Kane?’ she asked, ashamed at the childish whine in her voice.
He smiled and shook his head. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘But the journey will be more pleasant, the heat slightly more tolerable for you and your mother, for we’re going up there, into the mountains.’
Catriona looked across the vast, empty valley to the line of protective, pine-clad mountains that seemed to dominate the little town. Threatening dark clouds were drifting over the top of them, throwing black shadows over the pine trees and promising a deluge of rain. Yet the heat down here in the valley was almost intolerable. It seemed to insinuate itself around her, enfolding her in a damp, heavy blanket that sapped the last of her strength.
‘Can’t we rest here for a while?’ she asked plaintively.
‘We don’t have the funds to idle about in Cairns,’ replied Kane as he dumped the bags and signed the porter’s chit. ‘Neither can we afford the train fare up into the mountains, or the hire of a car – which is why I have to find us cheap transport. But your mother will find it easier to rest up there – it’s cool and quiet, the perfect place to recuperate.’
He reined in his obvious impatience and gave her a hug. ‘You’re a big girl now, Kitty,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘Chin up.’
Catriona leaned into his embrace. She no longer felt disloyal to her father by embracing Mr Kane, for the Englishman could never take his place in her heart – yet he was all she had left to cling to. With Velda overwhelmed by her loss, his strength and kindness had been her saviour. They had spent many hours playing cards and talking – the long nights huddled together for warmth on those hard wooden seats as the train rattled and jolted over the rails – and she finally realised she’d come to rely on him as much as her mother did. For they had no money, no home or work, not even a relative to provide food or shelter – without him they would have been lost.
Kane released her and strode over to Velda. ‘Come, my dear,’ he said as he took her arm. ‘We must find transport for the next leg of our journey.’
Velda looked back at him, her face expressionless, eyes dull with her loss. She moved as he moved, drifting along beside him like a wraith as he led her into the searing heat of the noonday sun.
Cairns wasn’t very big, just a random collection of white wooden houses scattered amongst the palm trees, a couple of hotels and several churches. The bustling docks were busy with vast lorries unloading their cargoes into the cane ships, and the board-walks offered shade to those who wandered along them looking into the few shops. Catriona found the beach disappointing – the tide was way out, leaving mud-flats behind that were a haven only for the sea birds and waders.
There was little time to linger and no money to sit in the shade and drink cool lemonade, for Kane had found someone to take them up into the tablelands.
Herbert Allchorn was a strange and rather frightening individual, who had a horse and cart. His clothes hung about him in layers like dirty laundry, his boots were cracked and held together with string, and his hat was so stained with sweat and dirt that it was hard to see what colour it had once been.
He was not a man for lengthy conversation, and he glared out at them from the shadows of his hat-brim, his bloodshot eyes missing nothing as Kane loaded up the bags and boxes and helped Velda settle on the wooden seat. He spat tobacco juice, wiped his mouth on his filthy sleeve and climbed up onto the driving seat. With a sharp crack of the whip, they were on their way.
Catriona sat in the back of the cart opposite Kane and her mother. The sway and roll was as familiar as breathing, and it made her ache with longing for the old days – for Da and the players, for Poppy and Max and the darling shires. Yet, as the sun bore down on them and the horse began the long trek towards the mountains, she knew that those days were gone forever.
Herbert Allchorn sat hunched on the driving seat, his hat pulled over his eyes as he stared between his horse’s ears. He had nothing to say, no comment to make on their surroundings, and Catriona wrinkled her nose at the smell emanating from him. It appeared that Mr Allchom was a stranger to soap and water.
The clouds veiled the sun, bringing a welcome coolness to the day as they slowly trundled up the steep, winding dirt track that would lead them onto the Tablelands. The air was full of the sibilant chatter of thousands of insects. Pine trees threw dark shadows, vines clambered in among the enormous ferns and bright tropical flowers as the birds flitted and fussed and called their piping tunes. Deep, frightening ravines opened up beside her and she didn’t dare look down into their endless fall from the track – yet, looking beyond the ravines the valley below was sprawled out in the sun, the glitter of the ocean so bright it almost hurt her eyes.
They passed a waterfall that tumbled down the shiny black rocks and raced away through the ravines to the rivers below. A railway line had been carved out of these rocks, and with an echoing hoot, the little train belched smoke and clattered away through a tunnel and out of sight.
Catriona saw glimpses of neat wooden houses perched precariously on poles amongst the trees and gasped at the sight of a whistling kite as it hovered in the air searching for prey. Tiny rock wallabies watched them pass, and a large red kangaroo bounced in front of them and bounded with consummate ease down into the ravine.
If she hadn’t been so sad, she might have found this place magical – but as it was, she couldn’t dredge up any enthusiasm at all. She just wanted the journey to come to an end, so she could sleep and forget.
Kuranda was a tiny settlement which had sprung up since the building of the railway. It consisted of a few log cabins, one or two neat little cottages, a pub, and a sprawling Aboriginal community which was almost hidden by the trees. The sun broke through the canopy of surrounding rainforest and Catriona gasped. The forest was lush and green and rampant with tropical colour. It was all around them, dark, green and cool, the exotic flowers and birds bringing a wonderful vibrancy to the whole area.
The carter flicked a lazy switch over the horse’s back and they trundled away from Kuranda and into the heart of the Atherton Tablelands. It was good farming land, the soil rich, th
e rainfall plentiful, and obviously a popular spot to breed cattle. Dense rainforests surrounded them, offering glimpses of crater-lakes, ancient tumbles of dark rock, and magnificent waterfalls.
With his hat pulled low over his beetling brows, Herbert Allchorn kept up his morose silence as the horse pulled the wagon along the rutted tracks to the little town of Atherton.
Velda was curled up on the other bench and had fallen asleep, unaware and uncaring of her surroundings. Catriona leaned against Mr Kane’s broad shoulder, drowsy with the heat, grateful for his comfort, but unlike her mother, too curious to sleep.
This land of the far north was different to anything she had seen before. The rainforests were a tangle of gigantic ferns, elegant trees and dark, mysterious creepers that weaved through the broad, glossy green leaves of plants she couldn’t put a name to. Bright flowers competed with bright birds and the air was sibilant with the hiss and saw of insects.
Once out of the cool shadows of the rainforest they were soon travelling through pasture-land that stretched endlessly into the dancing heat-haze. Cattle grazed in contentment on the rich grass that sprouted from earth so red it was a shock to the eye. Waterfalls splashed into pools from black, glistening rocks, and palm trees stretched their long straight trunks to the sky as if in competition with the sugar-refineries’ chimneys.
These chimneys belched grey smoke that was heavily laden with the sickly scent of molasses – it filled the atmosphere, insinuating itself in her clothes and on her skin, and when she licked her lips she thought she could taste its cloying sweetness mingled with the dust on her tongue.
‘I sent a telegram two days ago to say we were coming,’ murmured Kane as he rested his chin on the top of her head. ‘Hopefully someone will be there to meet us.’
Dreamscapes Page 9
