Windflowers

by Tamara McKinley

  ‘How? I thought all flights and ships would have been cancelled.’

  ‘Alicia always lands on her feet. She found a way.’ Aurelia smoked her pipe, her gaze distant as if she could still see the colours of that bygone age.

  *

  Alicia was exhausted and bad tempered as she stood amongst the hundreds of screaming kids and their mothers and looked down from the high deck of the ship. They had crossed the world to be here, and now they’d arrived she wondered if it had all been worth it. Melbourne was as dreary as Liverpool, the drizzle casting a pewter dampness over everything, the leaden sky mirroring her mood.

  Is this Australia?’ piped the voice beside her. ‘I thought it was sunny here?’

  Alicia looked down at the little girl and tried to dredge up some enthusiasm. ‘It is usually,’ she said briskly. ‘But this is Melbourne and they get a lot of rain, even in the summer.’

  ‘Just like home,’ said five year old Betty wistfully.

  Alicia straightened the velvet collar of the child’s camel coat and pulled up the white socks that had a habit of drifting southwards to the patent shoes. ‘Let’s see if we can catch sight of mummy,’ she said with forced brightness. ‘She’s probably down there somewhere in amongst all those people so we’ll have to look very hard.’

  Betty had been a good child throughout the journey despite her tender years, and although Alicia had found the whole enterprise wearing, she acknowledged that having Betty with her for twenty four hours a day had made her realise just how much of Ellie’s childhood she’d missed. Not that she wanted to prolong or repeat the experience. Six weeks of screaming kids, cramped quarters and seasickness was enough to banish any stray maternal feelings she might have once possessed.

  She held Betty’s hand as they looked over the railings to the quay. It was strange how things worked out, for if it hadn’t been for Betty catching the measles, Alicia would never have had the chance of escaping England at all.

  The first convoy had left Betty behind because of her contagious condition and Harriet, her mother, had been at her wits end. Her husband was fighting in Europe and she had five children to look after. With the real threat of invasion, the commonwealth countries offered to give shelter to the women and children of Great Britain for the duration and she’d jumped at the chance. Then Betty had fallen ill and Harriet had begged her old school friend Alicia to look after her on one of the following convoys. It was a huge responsibility, but Alicia had seen it as a way of escaping the deprivations of war. She would have preferred to go to Canada, but she had readily agreed.

  It hadn’t been a cruise, that was for certain, she thought as she remembered the blood-curdling siren in the grim nights when they’d had to stumble from their beds in pitch blackness and pull on life-jackets. This had been followed by hours of sitting on a freezing deck that wallowed beneath them as the ship weaved in gigantic seas trying to shake off pursuing U-boats. Despite the flotilla of naval vessels that remained alongside throughout the journey, the tension was always high and tempers flared easily. Alicia had tried her best to remain cool and aloof, but there had been little privacy during the voyage, and she’d had to mix with people she wouldn’t usually pass the time of day with.

  Harriet pushed through the throng as Alicia and Betty finally emerged from the vast customs hall and swept the child in to her arms. ‘Thank goodness you’re safe,’ she said, the tears rolling down her powdered cheek. ‘I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you both.’

  Alicia patted her hair and checked her appearance in her compact mirror. The rain had made her hair go frizzy and her lipstick was smudged, but at least she didn’t look as down-at-heel as her old school friend. Harriet had really let herself go. ‘We were lucky we got here at all,’ she said evenly. ‘I thought I was going to die of mal de mer two days out of Liverpool.’

  Harriet clung to Betty, the other four children tugging her coat. ‘They weren’t so lucky to just get seasickness on the following convoy,’ she sniffed.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Alicia’s tone was distracted as she put away the powder compact and began to search for a taxi. She was looking forward to a hot bath and some decent food, and she knew just the right hotel.

  Harriet put Betty down, her eyes dark in her wan face. ‘You haven’t heard?’

  Alicia was losing patience. ‘Heard what? Do spit it out, Harriet before we all drown in this damn rain.’

  ‘The convoy that left a month after you was hit by a U-boat. One of the ships went down. Nobody survived.’

  Alicia shuddered. It could so easily have been them. ‘Nobody?’ she breathed.

  Harriet shook her head. ‘When I think of all those children.’ Fresh tears threatened and she hastily dabbed her face. ‘Thank you for taking care of Betty. I don’t know how I can repay you.’

  ‘It was a pleasure,’ she replied – and tried to mean it. ‘Now, can we get out of the rain?’

  They managed to get a taxi eventually and bundled in with the cases and the children. It was a tight squeeze. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to muck in with us?’ Harriet said as they drove through the city and came to a halt at the Imperial Hotel. ‘I know the government housing they’ve allocated us isn’t much, but at least it’s a roof over our heads.’

  Alicia had a fair idea what the housing would be like from the photographs of the barrack-like buildings Harriet had sent Betty, and she’d had enough of cramped quarters and screaming children. ‘You’ll be crowded enough without me,’ she said diplomatically. ‘I’m only staying in the city overnight, then I’m catching the train north.’

  Alicia finally said her goodbyes and disentangled herself from Betty. ‘I’ll write to you,’ she promised hastily as she fended off a snotty nose and sticky fingers. ‘And if I’m ever back in Melbourne I’ll come and visit.’ The child seemed to be mollified by this and Alicia sighed with relief as she watched the taxi disappear into the traffic. She turned and headed up the steps of the Imperial Hotel. What she needed now was a bath and a long cold gin and tonic before a decent dinner.

  *

  ‘She hasn’t changed much,’ said Claire as Aurelia paused for breath and helped herself to a mid-morning whisky. ‘I met her in London, and she was really only interested in her planned shopping trip and the cocktail party she was going to in the evening. She barely disguised her boredom when I told her the home news and what I’d been doing during my gap year.’

  ‘My sister is one of this world’s most selfish women,’ said Aurelia gruffly. ‘But believe it or not, she does have a good side.’

  Claire watched a parakeet wend its way along a branch of the tree outside the window. It was as deft as a tightrope walker, with eyes that reminded her somewhat of Alicia – for they were acquisitive and rather cold. ‘She certainly takes care of herself,’ she muttered as she remembered the expensively cut suit, the neat figure and perfect make-up. The hair was grey of course because she had to be in her mid seventies, but it was styled and glossy, the nails manicured, the rings on her fingers worth the price of a small hobby farm. ‘But I can’t see she has a good side, unless it’s her ability to shop.’

  ‘She can certainly spend money,’ said Aurelia with a wry smile. ‘But when she came out here during the war she showed us what she was made of – and I have to say she did well. Surprised us all.’

  Claire watched the old lady settle back with her whisky. ‘Must have been a bit of a culture shock,’ she said. ‘I can’t imagine Alicia getting to grips with cows.’

  ‘She didn’t at first,’ said Aurelia with a snort of laughter. ‘But things changed. They had to if we were all to survive.’ She looked at Claire over the lip of her glass. ‘You remind me so much of your mother,’ she said. ‘Proper little pest with all her questions. She’d follow me about the station and homestead never satisfied until she knew it all.’ Aurelia grinned. ‘Not that I find you a pest,’ she added hurriedly. ‘Just that you’re as inquisitive as she was – and still is.’


  Claire hid her smile behind her glass as she sipped the whisky. She didn’t usually drink during the day, especially in this heat, but it helped her to relax. For her sleep had been disturbed last night, with images her mother had invoked. Images that somehow didn’t add up to what she’d been told so far.

  *

  In the days following Joe’s departure Ellie immersed herself in the endless round of work. Yet the nights were filled with disturbing dreams that woke her drenched in sweat and calling for him. Her appetite had gone, but she knew she couldn’t keep up the relentless workload if she didn’t eat, and had had to force food down. Yet she’d also had to deal with the problem that was Aurelia – and that was most worrying.

  Aurelia had grown strangely quiet following Jack’s declaration and Joe’s departure, and didn’t seem to have the enormous energy and enthusiasm for life she’d once had. It was as she watched her aunt push away yet another plate of barely eaten dinner that things had come to a head.

  ‘You need food to keep you strong,’ Ellie said as she pushed back the plate. ‘There’s far too much work to be done now we’re down to you and me and Jacky Jack to run the place. The stock boys are enthusiastic, but frankly they’re more of a hindrance than a help when it comes to anything that looks remotely like hard work. If you fall ill I won’t be able to manage,’ she said with flat determination. ‘You must snap out of this.’

  Aurelia pushed from the table, the chair screeching along the floor. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said crossly. ‘Don’t bully me.’

  Ellie took her aunt’s arm, forcing her to turn and face her. ‘We’ve got to carry on here, otherwise there’ll be nothing for them to come home to,’ she said in even tones.

  Aurelia’s defiant stare was fixed on a point beyond her niece, but Ellie knew she would respond sooner or later. Yet her manner frightened her. Where was the strong, seemingly invincible aunt who was afraid of nothing life could throw at her? Her aunt seemed to be a ghost of the woman she once was. ‘Aurelia,’ she said with authority. ‘You must realise you can’t go on like this. I need you. Warratah needs you. Jack wants you all in one piece when he comes back from the war.’

  Aurelia drew herself up, the chin defiant, the bosom proud. ‘I do more than my share,’ she said defensively. ‘I can’t help it if I’m feeling my age and don’t want to eat.’

  Ellie put her arms around her. It was her turn to offer comfort – to console. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘But Joe and Jack would hate to see you like this. Hate what you’re doing to yourself. It’s up to us to stay strong and to do our best. Warratah must survive, Aurelia, and it can only do that if you take care of yourself.’

  Aurelia pulled away, adjusted her disreputable old jacket and dredged up a smile. ‘You’re right.’ Her tone was flat. ‘Warratah seems to be the only constant in my life and I know I must do all I can to keep it going. But for now I need to keep occupied so I don’t have time to think. My appetite will come back and so will my fortitude. We British don’t give in easily.’

  Ellie’s reply was drowned by the roar of a plane circling overhead and they rushed to the verandah. ‘Jacky Jack,’ shouted Ellie into the darkness. ‘Light the flares.’

  ‘Yes, missus,’ replied the Aboriginal stockman as he strolled past the verandah chewing on a hunk of bread and cheese.

  ‘Today, Jacky. Move it,’ Ellie ordered crossly. She watched him break into a loping trot. ‘Damn man’s been getting Sally to feed him again. No wonder half our supplies have disappeared.’

  ‘I wonder why Jack’s come back tonight?’

  Ellie listened – glad to have this distraction. ‘Doesn’t sound like Jack’s plane.’ She tugged on her boots. ‘Come on. We’ll take the ute and find out.’

  Ellie loved driving, and as Aurelia had been the one to teach her, she handled the ute in the same reckless manner. They raced out of the yard and headed for the airstrip that was now lit by the oil pots. The stock boys were dark shadows against the flames as they looked skyward and waited for the plane – they still thought it was a miracle from the sky gods.

  She brought the ute to a skidding halt and they climbed out to watch the little aircraft make a neat landing and come to rest at the end of the dirt runway. As the twin propellers stopped turning and the noise of the engine faded, the door in the side of the plane opened and a man stepped out.

  ‘I’ll be blowed,’ breathed Aurelia. ‘It’s Mickey Maughan.’ She peered into the flickering light, her monocle glinting fire. ‘And you’ll never guess who he’s got with him,’ she added in amazement.

  ‘What the hell’s she doing here?’ Ellie’s tone was sharp as she caught sight of the elegant figure at the top of the steps. She fingered the thin gold chain around her neck. Joe’s ring was still hanging there, safe from everyday work, close to her heart – her talisman against everything unpleasant.

  Aurelia shrugged. ‘We’ll soon find out.’ She and Ellie looked at one another and although Ellie did her best to mask her feelings, she was unable to fool her aunt. ‘Do try and be nice to her, dear. She is your mother.’

  Ellie tucked the ring back and rammed her hands in her moleskin pockets. ‘Only when it suits her,’ she replied sourly.

  ‘G’day, Aurelia, Ellie,’ bellowed Mickey Maughan as he strode towards them. ‘How y’goin’?’

  ‘Good,’ replied Ellie shaking his hand and wincing. Mickey never had known his own strength, and his bluff, hearty manner was a little overwhelming. ‘How are things at Jarrah? How’s Seamus? We’ve had several letters, but he never says very much.’

  ‘Seamus is good. Somewhere in Europe. He doesn’t say.’ He took off his hat and scratched his head. ‘Jarrah’s about the same as everywhere. Dry, dusty, cows getting thin and out of condition. You know how it is.’

  ‘Could someone help me with my luggage?’ The plaintive cry came from Alicia who was standing in the doorway of the plane, her bags at her feet.

  ‘Jacky Jack, take the luggage and put it in the back of the ute,’ Aurelia ordered as Mickey rushed back to the plane and handed Alicia down as if she was the Queen of Sheba. ‘Looks like your mother’s struck again,’ she murmured to Ellie. ‘Poor Mickey’s been on the lookout for years and by his expression I’d say he thinks he’s in with a chance.’

  ‘He’ll find he’s bitten off more than he can chew,’ Ellie retorted as she watched her mother’s stately progress across the landing strip. This was all she needed. What on earth did her mother think she was doing by turning up here in the middle of a crisis?

  ‘Darling,’ cried Alicia, throwing her arms around Ellie, seemingly unaware of her daughter’s rigid lack of response. ‘How grown up you are. And how pretty,’ she enthused as she held Ellie at arms’ length and regarded her delightedly.

  Ellie maintained a polite facade as she was swamped in a cloud of perfume and face powder. She dutifully kissed the rouged cheek and endured the over enthusiastic welcome with icy reserve. Alicia’s unexpected arrival was bad enough, but Ellie hated the thought of their quiet existence on Warratah being shattered. ‘I thought you were staying in England to look after grandpa and grandma?’ she said.

  ‘I was, darling,’ she replied as she hugged her sister. ‘But I had a chance to come out on a convoy and here I am,’ she said brightly. ‘I just missed you in Cloncurry, but Mickey here,’ her look dazzled the hapless man beside her. ‘Mickey very kindly offered me a lift as his property’s just next door.’ She smiled brightly. ‘Wasn’t that lucky?’

  Ellie eyed Mickey who was gazing in adoration at her mother. Jarrah Downs was about two hundred miles away on the far eastern boundary line. Hardly next door. She let it pass. Mickey Maughan was old enough to take care of himself.

  Sally was dragged reluctantly from her camp-fire to prepare another supper, and once their visitors had eaten their fill, Aurelia poured tea from the great iron pot that always hung over the range. Settled comfortably around the kitchen table, Ellie kept her thoughts to herself as the others began to t
alk.

  ‘How are Mother and Pa?’ asked Aurelia. ‘I haven’t had a letter from them in ages, and it’s a bit worrying.’

  ‘They’re fine,’ replied Alicia airily. ‘Stubborn as always. Refuse to leave the house of course even though they rattle around in it. I had to get the builders in to erect the Anderson shelter in the back garden, but I’ll be surprised if they use it.’

  ‘Are things very bad over there?’ Aurelia was prodding tobacco into her pipe and Ellie knew that the thought of her elderly parents alone and frightened made her angry, and if it had been at all possible, she’d have got someone to fly her to the nearest port so she could get to them.

  ‘Everything’s rationed of course,’ said Alicia with a waspish snap. ‘Can’t get hold of a decent pair of stockings unless you’ve got friends in the black market, and the food they expect us to eat is disgusting. But apart from the odd bombing raid on seaports and air-bases, things have been fairly quiet.’

  ‘You obviously haven’t heard the latest news,’ said Aurelia around the stem of her pipe. ‘The Germans started night bombing in September, and have hit London fairly thoroughly as well as some of the other major cities and ports. Churchill’s calling it the Battle of Britain.’

  Alicia lit a cigarette. ‘At least Mother and Pa are well away from London,’ she said. ‘There’s no airfield or port within fifty miles, so they should be safe.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Aurelia with heartfelt vigour. ‘I just wish you hadn’t left them to struggle through on their own.’

  Ellie couldn’t remain silent any longer. ‘How did you get on a convoy? I thought they were only for women with children?’

  Alicia explained about Betty. ‘It was either that or volunteer for something ghastly like the land army or the munitions factory. And I’d be absolutely useless at both. I’m not qualified to nurse or fire-fight, and the thought of driving ambulances around London in the blackout gives me the shivers.’ She stubbed out her cigarette. ‘Besides, I thought you’d need a hand here.’