Windflowers
Page 24
Ellie lay huddled beneath Claire’s coat. She was very pale, and when Leanne touched her, she felt icy.
‘She’s banged her head and is unconscious,’ shouted Claire above the drum of rain. ‘I need help to get her into the ute. One of you get on the two-way and call the doctor. Tell him to meet us back at Jarrah.’
Leanne was roughly pushed aside as Angel took charge. ‘We have to be careful,’ he shouted into her furious face. ‘She could have broken her neck, or her back. We must make sure she’s stable before we lift her.’
‘You’re a bloody vet, not a doctor,’ she yelled at him.
‘I’ve had five years medical tuition and five years of practice. What have you had?’ he shouted back. ‘Go and get the blankets and find me something to put around her neck.
Leanne moved away as Claire and Angel worked on her mother. Cookie had taken the tarpaulin off the ute and he and three others held it over Ellie to protect her from the rain. Leanne grabbed the blankets and pillows from the truck and hurried back with them, then she stood aside feeling utterly helpless as her sister carefully wedged the pillow around her mother’s neck and tied it there with a piece of string.
‘Should be right to move her, but try not to jolt her at all,’ said Claire as she finally stood up.
The men came with the stretcher and with much yelling from Angel and Claire, Ellie was lifted off the ground. Bundling her with blankets and shielding her from the rain with the tarpaulin they staggered through the mud and laid her gently in the back of one of the Landrovers. Leanne and Claire climbed in next to her and the convoy set off for Jarrah.
‘She looks so pale,’ said Leanne through chattering teeth. ‘Will she be right? Why won’t she wake up?’
Claire shivered as she smeared back her sodden hair and checked Ellie’s vital signs. ‘Strong pulse, but slow. She’s knocked herself out, but the cold and the wet couldn’t have helped much. We have to keep her warm, Lee. Stop her temperature from falling any further.’
Leanne eyed her filthy, bedraggled coat – it was no use to her mother and she had nothing else. ‘There’s no more blankets,’ she shivered. The shock had taken over and apart from being frozen to the bone, she was tearful – something she had never been before. But she was damned if she was going to let Claire see how scared she was.
‘It’s all right, Lee,’ comforted Claire. ‘Lie next to her, but try not to move her. We’ll keep her warm with our own body heat.’
‘What heat?’ Leanne curled around her mother’s still form. She was so cold she couldn’t stop shivering and Claire’s calm attitude to all this was making her angry. It was as if she didn’t care.
‘Anything’s better than nothing,’ said Claire.
The Landrover ploughed through the mud as the rain lashed the windows and the wind tried to tear open the rear tarpaulin flap. Ellie was still very pale, her skin like ice, her breathing erratic. Their father was over four days drive away, and the flying doctor might not be able to land in such bad weather. They were in deep trouble.
*
Ellie was vaguely aware of voices, of being jolted and cold. There was a dull pain in her arm and another in her head, but she felt as if she was drifting. The darkness swirled around her and she floated there, contentedly. It was warm in the darkness. As warm as it had been all those years ago when she’d deliberately stayed away from the homestead and worked alongside Jacky Jack and the stock boys.
It had been the not knowing that tormented her and Aurelia. The lack of news from Broome and the army that had driven them into a desperate kind of silence. They had moved around one another as they completed their daily chores, barely able to meet one another’s eye. Even Kelly had caught their mood and was unusually reticent.
But out here, in the warmth of the sun with the sound of the wind in the trees and the pipe of the bellbirds for company she felt almost at peace. For she could hear his song, and knew Joe was with her.
The darkness faded and as the warmth disappeared, Ellie reluctantly accepted that her escape was over. She was being brought back from the past into the cold of the present – emerging into the darkness of a different kind – the darkness of half-told truths.
Yet, as she opened her eyes and stared around her she knew she was mistaken. For this was far worse. This was the place it had all begun. This was where the nightmare had started.
12
The runway had been kept in good order for moments like these, and as the first grey streaks lightened the sky, the doctor’s plane droned over-head and touched down. Claire was waiting in the ute. She’d changed into dry clothes once they’d made Ellie comfortable on the couch in the lounge, but her hair still clung damply to her neck making her shiver. The cold seemed to have got into her bones and no matter what she did she couldn’t shake it off.
‘Lucky I was out your way,’ the doctor said cheerfully as he and the nurse climbed in. ‘I was delivering a baby in the Isa when your call came through.’ He smiled as Claire swiftly did a u-turn and headed at speed back to the homestead. ‘You drive like all the woman from Warratah, so I reckon you must be Leanne’s sister,’ he said. ‘Phil Kominsky’s the name. This is my nurse, Sandra. Pleased to meet you.
‘Claire. Glad you could come so quickly.’ She glanced across at him. He was middle-aged and of sturdy build – a comforting presence at this troubled time. ‘Mum’s got a fever,’ she said as she stamped on the brake and cut the engine. ‘And I think she’s broken her arm. But she took a nasty bang on her head and that’s what’s really worrying us. She doesn’t want to wake up.’
They climbed out of the ute and ran up the steps into the bluestone homestead. The lounge was warm and cosy, the fire roaring up the chimney. Ellie was lying on the couch, her neck still braced by the pillow, her face pale and sickly above the blankets.
‘Perhaps someone could make a cuppa?’ Phil said as he put down his medical bag and eyed the assembly. ‘I’d like to examine Ellie in private.’
Claire followed the others reluctantly out of the room and shut the door. She was still shivering despite the warmth in the house. ‘A hot drink seems like a good idea,’ she said. ‘Let’s go in the kitchen.’
They huddled around the range, the mugs of tea cupped in their hands. ‘Don’t you think someone should tell your father what is happening?’ said Angel into the silence.
Claire looked at the handsome, dark haired vet and knew exactly why Leanne had fallen for him. He was gorgeous. ‘No point in telling him anything until the doctor’s seen to her,’ she said calmly. ‘We’ll decide once we know what’s wrong with her.’
‘What the hell was she doing coming over anyway?’ stormed Leanne as she dragged out a chair and sat down. ‘She knows I’m perfectly capable of dealing with the bullock transport.’ She glared at her sister. ‘This is all your fault,’ she snapped.
Claire was taken aback. ‘How the hell do you work that one out?’ she demanded.
‘If you hadn’t come home and upset everyone, Mum would have kept her mind on what she was doing.’ Leanne’s gaze was accusing. ‘Why don’t you go back to Sydney?’
‘I came because this is my home and Aurelia wisely knew it was time to clear the air. If you don’t like it, then I’m sorry. But I have as much right as you to be here. She is my mother too.’
Leanne’s mouth was a thin line and there was a dark glint of something malicious in her eyes. Yet she remained silent and Claire wondered what she’d been about to say.
Angel’s gaze flickered over Claire as he put his arm around Leanne’s waist. ‘It is not the time to fight,’ he said quietly. ‘Ellie is very crook.’
Claire blushed, ashamed she could be goaded so easily. ‘You’re right,’ she murmured. Yet her sister’s outburst troubled her. She hadn’t realised the animosity was so great – or so venomous.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Phil coming into the kitchen. He put down his bag on the table and accepted a cup of tea from Leanne. ‘Ellie’s lucky she didn’t kill h
erself,’ he said as he sipped the steaming tea. ‘She’s broken her arm which I’ve plastered and that should mend in about six weeks. The bang on her head could have been far more serious. But she’s come round and as there’s no vomiting and she knew where she was, I’ve given her an injection so she’ll sleep.’
‘What about the fever?’ Claire asked. ‘She was mumbling all sorts of strange things when we drove her home.’
‘Being out in the rain for so long has caused that. Keep her on the couch by the fire, but don’t pile too many blankets on. Give her plenty of fluids and make sure she takes one of these every four hours. The fever should break by mid-morning.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’ Claire asked.
‘It will. Trust me.’
Claire raised an eyebrow. That was the one phrase certain to have the opposite effect. ‘But if it doesn’t?’ She persisted.
He sighed and put his cup down next to his medical bag. ‘Call me,’ he said wearily. ‘You know the number.’
Leanne offered to take them to the plane, and as she left the room, Claire noticed Angel. He was leaning nonchalantly against the dresser, his gaze drifting over her as if she was a prize breeder at a stock show. She glared back and he had the cheek to shrug and smile. ‘I look, but never touch,’ he murmured. ‘It is a compliment only.’
He might be highly qualified with eyelashes any woman would die for, but as he was unworthy of even a mild insult, she left the room.
*
Ellie had returned to the welcome allure of the soft, floating darkness. She had escaped the other place and was back at the old homestead on Warratah. Had turned back the clock to a time when she’d still been young. Yet, as she drifted between past and present she realised there had been no real escape, for she could still feel the chill – could still hear the rain. The shadows returned and they brought a visitor.
He arrived at Warratah towards the end of April 1942 in the middle of a downpour. The drought had broken the night before and the women were preparing for the long trek down to Jarrah’s southernmost pastures. The cattle had been moved there because the land was low-lying and the water fairly plentiful despite the drought. Now there was the danger of flash floods and the river running a banker, and it had become necessary to bring the mob back to higher pastures.
Ellie was emerging through the screen door laden with saddle bags when she saw the battered utility draw up in the yard. She dropped them with a thud as she realised who it was. Frozen, she watched him gather up his soutane and splash his way through the mud.
‘G’day,’ he said mournfully. ‘Tis surely the weather fit only for ducks?’ He shook out the long black robe and straightened his dog collar.
Ellie was trembling, her legs almost failing her. The arrival of the priest was more than just a surprise – they weren’t even catholic – but a portent of doom. For she’d heard of his visits to other families. Families that were now in mourning.
He stood there, his doleful brown eyes shadowed by the burden of office, the grey in his hair more marked than when they’d seen him a year ago at a cattleman’s meeting, ageing him beyond his thirty five years. ‘As you must have guessed, I have news,’ he said in his weary, Irish brogue. ‘Some good – some not so good. Is there anyone else at home?’
Ellie grabbed the arm of the verandah chair and sank into the cushions, her gaze fixed on this harbinger of doom. ‘Aunt Aurelia,’ she called hoarsely. ‘Aunt Aurelia come quick.’
‘What’s the matter?’ Aurelia came crashing through the screen door closely followed by Alicia. They stopped abruptly when they saw the priest. ‘Who is it?’ Aurelia demanded, her face bereft of colour.
‘Mrs Bligh-Hamilton?’ he stammered.
‘Yes, yes. Get on with it man,’ snapped Aurelia. ‘Can’t you see we’re on tenterhooks?’
Ellie followed his every move as the priest pulled an envelope from his pocket. ‘Jack Withers asked me to hand this to you personally,’ he said with a soft smile.
Aurelia sat down with a thud, the envelope in trembling fingers, her eyes wide as she read and re-read the scrawled address.
The overwhelming relief was replaced by rising panic. The priest said there was bad news. He hadn’t come all this way just to deliver a letter from Jack. Ellie closed her eyes and tried to remain calm, forcing back the dark thoughts, tempering her dread with the certainty that Jack was alive. Steeling herself for what would surely come next. Ellie squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
Aurelia was still turning the envelope over and over as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. ‘He’s safe? He’s alive?’
‘He is indeed,’ said the priest with a smile. ‘He had engine trouble on his way back from Java, but he managed to bring his flying boat down and hide it behind one of the many volcanic islands so he could do repairs. It took him almost a month of island hopping to avoid enemy planes and get home. He had over thirty women and children on board and not one of them was injured. By all accounts he’s up for a medal.’
Ellie didn’t want to take the shine from Aurelia’s happiness, but she could no longer bear the agony of waiting. ‘You said there was good and bad news,’ she said hoarsely.
Aurelia’s laughter came to an abrupt halt. Alicia put a comforting hand on Ellie’s shoulder and the priest took a deep breath before he sat down.
Time stood still for Ellie and she became aware of the ticking clock in the hall and the drip of a tap in the kitchen. Sounds she wouldn’t normally hear out on the verandah – yet were so clear in the brittle silence. The world was in sharp focus, cruel in the grey light of this gloomy morning, and as raindrops trembled from the wrought iron trellis on the verandah railings she thought she could see the tiny prisms of light that emanated from each one – beautiful, but cold – ice cold.
Her gaze followed the priest’s hands as he took another brown envelope from his pocket. She heard his voice through the roaring in her head, his words coming to her as if from a vast distance, slow in cadence, muffled and bleak.
‘I’ve had communication from the army.’ He paused as if weighing up the consequences of what he had to tell her – choosing which words would help to ease the anguish. ‘Snowy is a prisoner of war in Burma,’ he said finally.
Ellie found she’d been holding her breath, and it hissed in a long sigh of relief and sadness. ‘Prisoner of war?’ she repeated as her mind went blank and her thoughts froze.
The priest nodded. ‘His name was on the list the Japanese released two weeks ago, but as yet we have no idea where the POW camp is, or what state of health he’s in.’ He leaned forward, his hand hovering above her tightly clasped fingers. ‘He’s alive – that’s all I know, and I hope you can take heart at that.’
Ellie stared at him, seeing the false, bright hope he was offering and realised he was trying his best to soften the blow, yet what words could he say that would make his news easier to bear? Poor Snowy, she thought distractedly. Poor, funny, kind, sweet Snowy. She closed her eyes, her emotions in turmoil. She was overwhelmed with relief it wasn’t Joe, but the thought of easy-going Snowy in the hands of the Japs was almost too awful to contemplate. For Snowy was a man born to freedom. An aboriginal who needed to go walkabout refresh his links with his ancestors and pay homage to the land that was his mother and father. He would die behind the barbed wire. His spirit would be crushed.
The electric silence finally pervaded her inner turmoil. Her eyes snapped open. There was a third brown envelope. ‘No,’ she said through chattering teeth. ‘No,’ she repeated as she backed away and knocked the chair across the verandah. ‘No,’ she whispered as she warded off her mother and aunt and stood in trembling terror.
The priest looked at each woman in turn, but none of them were capable of helping him. He gave a sigh. ‘There is no easy way for me to be tellin’ you this, so I’ll not beat about the bush,’ he said quickly. ‘Joe is listed as missing in action. He disappeared during the battle for Singapore.’
‘It means he’s presumed dead,’ he said quietly. ‘The army have no record of him being killed, but he’s not been seen or heard of for weeks.’ He attempted a smile of encouragement and failed miserably. ‘There’s the remote possibility he’s managed to hide amongst the natives. But it’s unlikely. The army are rarely wrong in these matters.’
Ellie felt Aurelia’s arms around her. Was aware of her mother clutching her hands. Yet all she could see was Joe riding the plains. Joe laughing with her at some joke they’d shared. Joe kissing her goodbye. He’d promised he’d come back for her. How could he be dead? Not her Joe. She could still hear the wind in the trees and the song of the bellbird.
She pulled away from them, certain there had been a mistake, intent upon the word ‘presumed’. ‘He might be missing, but he’s not dead,’ she said firmly. ‘The army admitted it was only presumed, and…’
‘Ellie,’ interrupted Aurelia with a sharpness that made her wince. ‘Ellie you mustn’t do this. False hope will only make it worse. You must accept the truth – then you can begin to mourn.’
Ellie knew that if she was to get through the next few hours she had to cling to the fragile hope this was just a terrible misunderstanding. For his spirit was with her – living and breathing in every corner of Warratah. She could feel it each time she rode the plains. Could sense his presence beside her throughout the long nights and endless days. Could hear their song in the sigh of the wind and the call of the bellbird. ‘He’s hiding somewhere, waiting for the allies to free Singapore,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I refuse to believe he’s dead.’