Windflowers

by Tamara McKinley

  Alicia almost fell from her horse in her weariness, but there was a certain glow of pride beneath the dusty, smeared make-up. ‘That was more fun than hunting,’ she declared as she dragged off her hat and brushed away the sweat from her forehead. ‘But I’m exhausted.’

  ‘Better get some food inside you then,’ said Ellie with a smile. ‘And get a good night’s sleep. We’ve got to do this all over again tomorrow – and the next day – and probably the day after. This is only about a fifth of the herd. And they all need to be moved south.’

  Alicia sank onto a log. ‘Aren’t we going back to the house tonight?’ Her eyes were wide with horror.

  ‘We’ll be out here for at least five days,’ said Ellie. ‘Better make the best of things.’

  ‘The best of things?’ Alicia snapped. ‘I’m filthy and need a bath. My face cleansers and creams are miles away, I’ve broken a fingernail and I haven’t got a change of clothes,’ she stormed. ‘You should have warned me.’

  Ellie was tired and her mother was beginning to irritate. ‘There’s water in the trough for a wash, and I’ve packed our toothbrushes and flannels. What more do you want?’

  Alicia glared back, her fury obvious. ‘You expect me to wash in that?’ Her voice rose almost to a shriek as she pointed to the vile green bore water in the rusting trough.. ‘And to sleep out here where I could get attacked by snakes and lizards and wild dogs?’

  ‘You’ll be quite safe as long as you stay by the fire,’ said Ellie whose own temper was rising.

  Alicia looked wildly around, but no one else seemed concerned. Then, as if realising she had no option but to remain in the bush she slumped against the log and drank deeply from her water bag.

  Ellie couldn’t help grinning as she eyed the stained moleskins, the soaked shirt and scrap of bedraggled scarf. Mum certainly looked wrung out, but she had a suspicion she felt better after a day of real work, than she would after lounging around in some smart hotel.

  ‘May I ask what you find so funny?’ Alicia asked mildly, her temper obviously cooled. ‘Have you seen yourself lately – or is it just me that looks as if I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards?’

  Ellie grinned, not at all offended by the insult. ‘Reckon if you keep this up,’ she said through her laughter. ‘We’ll make a stockman of you yet.’

  10

  The drought took a firm hold and the women of Warratah battled for survival. Water was down to a trickle in the rivers and billabongs, the water-holes becoming clay-pans that could trap a beast and kill it as surely as a bullet. The earth became hard-packed, the miserable grass bereft of any goodness as the herd was moved from one pasture to another in search of better fodder. The only water available for the stock had to be pumped from the bores – and even some of those were dry. The outback was dying – and with it had come disaster.

  Dingoes and crows became bolder and more predatory. Trees wilted, their boughs dipping earthward as if they too were exhausted from the heat, and as the rabbits devoured the poor grass, mobs of kangaroos and emus invaded the home pastures that still had bore water, and they had to be shot or scared away to preserve this precious commodity for the cattle.

  The three women camped at night with the Aboriginal stockmen around a fire, the hard earth their bed, the sky their ceiling, saddle for pillow. They were armed with knives as well as rifles, for the poor beasts were dying, and there was nothing worse than the sight of a crow pecking out the eyes of a calf as it ran stumbling and screaming in blind terror. A swift slash to the throat was the most merciful way of putting the beast to rest, and it saved on bullets.

  Ellie was surprised to find a growing admiration for Alicia. For after her initial horror at having to work from sunrise to dark, Alicia had grudgingly become accustomed to leaving her cosmetics behind. She’d filed her nails to a more manageable length, let the grey tendrils snake back into the blonde hair and no longer seemed to care if she had to face the day without lipstick.

  There were certain tasks even Aurelia couldn’t make her perform, such as helping with the spaying, or castrating, but Ellie realised she was doing her best. It had been strange to see mum in the same clothes day after day and stranger still not hearing her complain. Perhaps there really was something to the British stiff upper lip, she thought wryly, for Alicia and Aurelia had proved they were as tough as any Aussie.

  Yet there was something awe inspiring about the harsh splendour of this outback world despite the privations they were forced to accept, and as another Christmas and Ellie’s nineteenth birthday approached, she realised her mother had actually come to look forward to patrolling the fields. She had even struck up a rapport with Jacky Jack and the stock-boys and as the nine of them moulded into a team, past hurts and disappointments were put aside.

  The radio was their most immediate link with the outside world, and every night one or other of the women would return if possible to the homestead to catch up on the news which was then relayed to the others.

  ‘Pig Iron’ Bob had narrowly survived a general election in October 1940, but two months later the government was defeated and Curtin became Prime Minister. Hitler’s invasion of Russia in August 1941 radically changed the situation in Europe, and the whole pattern of the war was reshaped on 7th December 1941 when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.

  On hearing this news, the women left the cattle to the stock boys and headed for the homestead. Surely, now they had been attacked, the Americans would enter the war and help the allies instead of standing on the sidelines acting as bankers?

  They huddled around the radio three days after the Japanese invaded South-East Asia, willing themselves to believe the assurances of Churchill that Singapore was impregnable. Their belief was shattered when the British battleships, the Repulse and the Prince of Wales were sunk off Malaya. Bitter jungle fighting followed as the Australian Eighth Division and other allied troops opposed the enemy’s advance down the Malayan peninsula. The war was getting closer by the day and the threat to Australia was suddenly a very real possibility.

  Ellie’s birthday came and went and it was soon Christmas. Jack flew in from Darwin where he’d been training the flood of young volunteers who’d poured in from every corner of Australia, and Mickey Maughan, who’d become a regular visitor since Alicia’s arrival, came laden with flowers, wine and a roasting lamb.

  Yet despite the company and the unaccustomed luxuries, Ellie realised Aurelia was not her usual ebullient self, and suspected it had something to do with the pent-up excitement Jack Withers couldn’t quite disguise.

  They’d been listening to the war news that had come before the King’s speech. Now the radio had been switched off and they each sat with their own thoughts, the cigarette and pipe smoke curling to the corrugated iron ceiling as they sipped the last of the brandy.

  ‘I’m leaving Darwin,’ Jack announced into the silence. ‘Got an offer I couldn’t refuse.’

  Aurelia looked at him with a sharpness that showed her concern. ‘I get the feeling it isn’t in a nice safe office in the Alice.’

  He shook his head, the silver threads in his hair gleaming in the light of the kerosine lamps. ‘They want me to pilot a flying boat out of Broome,’ he said with a calmness that belied the excitement in his eyes. ‘There are civilians desperate to get out of Java, and it’s my chance to help them.’

  ‘You’ve got a perfectly good job training young pilots,’ she argued. ‘Let some of them practice on the flying boats.’

  He shook his head as he stubbed out his smoke. ‘They’ll be needed elsewhere,’ he drawled. ‘Besides, I’ve got experience of flying boats and don’t need training. It’ll save time.’

  Ellie looked at him as Aurelia fell silent. She didn’t know how they were going to see the war through without him. He’d always been there for them. At the end of the two-way radio, or in person on one of his short visits. He’d helped with the stock. Helped with carting the feed out to the animals and repairing the fences. Helped mend the old ut
ility and keep the tractor going. Yet she knew it wasn’t just his generous gift of time and mechanical knowledge she would miss, but the man himself. For Jack had become a trusted friend.

  She watched as Aurelia touched his hand, and in that moment she realised how much her aunt loved him.

  ‘You take care of yourself you silly old fool,’ Aurelia said as she tried unsuccessfully to control her emotions. ‘I’m going to need you when this is all over.’

  ‘Is that a promise?’ he asked, his gaze fixed on her face, the silent meaning so clear in his expression.

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed.

  Ellie clapped her hands. ‘If that means what I think it does,’ she said. ‘Then this calls for a celebration. Let’s drink a toast.’

  Mickey shot Alicia a hopeful look as he poured the wine. ‘I don’t suppose you and me?’ he began.

  She shook her head. ‘They say marrying twice is a sign of hope over experience,’ she said lightly. ‘To do it for the third time would be rather over-egging the pudding.’ She smiled sweetly as if to take the sting out of her rejection before turning away.

  Ellie saw the dejection on Mickey’s face and sighed. Mum hadn’t really changed that much, she realised. Poor Mickey. He’d been good company for Alicia, generous with his time and his gifts – a bright interval between the long episodes of struggle – and Alicia was shamelessly using him for her own amusement. Marriage to a man like Mickey Maughan was the last thing she’d contemplate.

  *

  Aurelia had finished lunch and she and Claire had decided to take a turn around the garden Ellie had planted when she first moved here. The flowers were bright and planted in a haphazard manner that made them look as if they’d always been here and had been allowed to flourish of their own accord. Creamy roses vied with scarlet poppies and purple banksia, long slender succulents drifted amongst ferns and the tiny blue flowers that reminded her of Periwinkles. The scent of the roses drifted up to them as the first drops of rain began to fall, and Aurelia shivered. The memory of Jack was overwhelming.

  ‘The drought during those war years nearly killed us,’ she said as they crossed home yard and headed back to the verandah. ‘What we would have done for just a drop of rain – just one measly shower.’

  ‘I know how bad it is, Aurelia,’ murmured Claire. ‘I’ve lived through several droughts, remember?’

  Aurelia looked at Claire and was reminded sharply of Alicia. The two women shared the same height, the same colouring, even the same elegance in the way they carried themselves, and yet the likeness stopped there. For in Claire she could see Ellie’s warm spirit, and her eagerness to learn, to adapt and make the best of things. ‘You must find all this talk of the past very confusing,’ she said as she climbed the steps to the verandah. ‘And I know some of the things you’ll hear will make little sense because of course you know how things worked out for me and your mother eventually.’ She saw the frown and hurried on – afraid of having said too much. ‘But it’s best you know it all so there won’t be any misunderstandings.’

  Claire opened the screen door for her and they went into the house. The kitchen was warm and cluttered but welcome after the chill breeze that had come with the rain. ‘I must admit I can’t see where all this is leading,’ she said as she made tea and cut two slices from Ellie’s chocolate cake to go with it.

  Aurelia pulled off her jacket and with much huffing and puffing untied the laces of her brogues. ‘Indulge an old woman for a while longer, my dear. It’ll soon become clear.’

  Claire pulled out a chair and poured the tea. Her voice was low, almost hesitant as she spoke. ‘Go on then,’ she prompted. ‘Tell me more about you and Jack.’

  Aurelia sipped her tea, at ease in the chair, the warmth from the new range belting out enough heat to make her damp trousers steam. ‘It was Christmas 1941 and Jack and Mickey Maughan had flown in to celebrate with us.’ She fell silent for a moment. ‘Not that there was a lot to celebrate. Pearl Harbor had been bombed and Singapore was about to fall to the Japs.’

  She drew her pipe from her pocket and fiddled with the tobacco and matches. It gave her a moment’s pause – time to gather her thoughts, time to remember the joy and the sadness that had overwhelmed her that day.

  Christmas was over too soon, and as Boxing Day dawned Aurelia had walked with Jack to his plane, her arm linked with his, reluctant to let him go. ‘You’ll write?’ she said.

  ‘Of course,’ he replied. Then he stopped and put his arms around her. ‘Don’t let’s waste time talking mundane nonsense, Aurelia,’ he said firmly. ‘I want you to know I love you and I’ll come back even if I have to crawl all the way from Broome.’ He put a finger against her lips to still any argument. ‘And I want you to marry me the minute this is all over.’

  *

  Aurelia could only nod, she was so full of emotion she had no words for him – nothing she could say that would change his mind about leaving – nothing that would keep him here, safe and in one piece.

  Jack kissed her thoroughly, crushing her to his chest as if he was a drowning man. Then he was gone, into his plane, the engine roaring as the propellers spun and the wheels turned on the red earth taking him away from her.

  Aurelia stood at the end of the dirt runway, her vision blurred as the plane lifted off and all too soon became a speck in the sky. ‘God speed, ’ she whispered. Then she shook her fist at the sky. ‘And you’d better come back, Jack Withers,’ she yelled. ‘Because we’ve got unfinished business.’

  *

  She came back from the past and realised Claire was still waiting for her to speak. ‘Jack asked me to wait for him,’ she said as she puffed her pipe. ‘I promised I would. I suppose you could say we were engaged.’

  Claire had her elbows on the table, her chin cupped in her hands. Her hair drifted over her shoulders and down her back, catching the last of the light as the rain became more determined. ‘Good on you,’ she said with a smile. ‘But what about Mum? How was she coping?’

  Aurelia chewed the stem of her pipe. ‘At first she was good. Letters were sporadic to say the least. And when they did come they were usually hopelessly out of date and almost illegible after the censor chopped them about.’

  ‘Did he write to her as he promised?’

  Aurelia nodded. ‘Stacks of letters would arrive every months from Joe. Seamus wrote fairly often and his letters were always amusing. Filled with anecdotes and wickedly accurate cartoons of the world’s leading politicians, but it was Joe’s letters she waited for.’

  They both fell silent, each with their own thoughts until Aurelia began to speak again. ‘My parents were holding out reasonably well, but I suspected they were both weary of war and rationing. The estate had been taken over by the military and turned into a hospital. Pa was not impressed and used to write short, acerbic post scripts to Mother’s letters to vent his spleen. He was concerned with the damage hobnailed boots were doing to the parquet flooring.’

  Claire grinned. ‘His priorities were obviously different from yours.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Aurelia laughed. ‘Mother was far more practical,’ she spluttered. ‘I remember she got the gardener to help her pack all the antiques and paintings and store them in the cellars with the vintage wine.’ She shook her head, still smiling. ‘She had a bolt and padlock put on the door and kept the key under her pillow at night, and down her corsets during the day.’

  Claire laughed. ‘I remember that picture of her on your cabinet. Reckon that key was in the safest place.’

  Aurelia nodded as she remembered her rather fierce looking mother. It wasn’t hard. She looked at the same face in the mirror each morning. ‘Mother was rather a stern looking woman – but she had a wonderful sense of the ridiculous.’

  ‘You said Mum was good to begin with,’ Claire said with quiet firmness. ‘What happened to change that?’

  ‘Two things,’ replied Aurelia. ‘One rather more serious than the other.’

  Claire looked back at her, the bl
ue gaze steady and unflinching.

  Aurelia cleared her throat. ‘She got a letter from Charlie.’

  ‘Charlie?’ The eyes widened and there was an alertness in her expression that hadn’t been there before.

  Aurelia nodded. ‘He wanted Joe to know he was sorry for what he’d done. He said he thought of him often and wished they could be together again. The war had made him realise life was too precarious to carry on a feud and he wanted Joe to write to him. The censor had cut the letter to bits, but we guessed he was somewhere in Africa because Seamus had mentioned that they were in the same regiment.’ Aurelia bit her lip. ‘Ellie sent the letter in with one of hers. She knew Joe would want to hear from him again, and hoped the letter would heal the breach. It was an old wound – it was time it healed.’

  ‘You said two things changed Mum during that time. What was the second?’

  Aurelia thought of Ellie and how she’d been all those years ago. ‘The spirit of Warratah was dying along with the grass. Your mother became rootless and restless, unable to find the inner peace she needed to see her through. She kept up a facade of course, a sunny disposition, to hide the almost driven need to work and spend long hours in the saddle. But I could see her nerve was wearing thin and I wished I could have done something.’

  She looked at Ellie’s daughter and sighed. ‘But what could I have said that wasn’t a cliché, a false hope that could be dashed at any moment?’ She paused. “Prime Ministers Curtin and Churchill agreed that the Sixth and Seventh Divisions should be transferred from Africa to the Dutch East Indies as Australia was now being seriously threatened, but the sheer pace of the enemy advance ruled this out.’

  Aurelia closed her eyes. The agony of those days were returning with such force it almost took her breath away. When she felt calmer she looked back at Claire. Her voice was almost a whisper. ‘Singapore fell on 15th of February, 1942. Ellie didn’t hear from Joe after that.’

  *

  With her mind occupied by memories and the worry for Claire and Leanne, Ellie almost turned the ute over in a deep rut. Struggling to keep control, she finally managed to get the utility off the track and on to a sweep of shale that lay beneath a stony outcrop. She needed a rest. It was impossible to think clearly when driving through the bush. There were just too many hazards.