Windflowers

by Tamara McKinley

  Some time later he looked at the moon-faced clock on the wall. Time moved so slowly when you least wanted it to, he realised. He pushed the chair away from the desk, his elation pricked by doubt. Was he about to make a complete bloody fool of himself? She hadn’t replied to his call, and he had only Aurelia’s word that he was welcome. Perhaps he should ring again and check?

  Matt eyed the telephone, his hand already on the receiver when he changed his mind. If he arrived at Warratah Claire couldn’t back out. He could take her with him on his rounds and they could get to know one another. But softly, softly, he told himself. Claire was young and beautiful with a fine career ahead of her. She might not want a grizzled widower for more than just friendship, and he didn’t know if he could take a rejection.

  *

  Ellie opened her eyes, his name on her lips escaping before she realised it. She pushed back the blankets and lay there for a moment. Claire and Leanne were asleep in the chairs beside the cold ashes in the hearth, and thankfully hadn’t heard her cry out. Light was streaming through the windows, making dust motes dance across the floor, and in the distance she could hear the bustle and clang of the men in the yard preparing to leave for the day. Yet, despite the hum of life and the sight of her daughters, the memories were still dark within her. As she tried to banish them, she lifted her hand to tuck her hair behind her ears and realised her arm was in plaster. She frowned, wondering how it could have got there. And why was she at Jarrah? She tried to sit up and gasped as a bolt of pain shot through her.

  ‘Mum?’ said the girls in unison as they snapped awake. ‘Are you okay?’

  She lay back into the pillows and smiled wanly. ‘I don’t know,’ she muttered. ‘What the hell happened?’

  Claire and Leanne knelt by the couch, but it was Leanne who spoke. ‘You had a fall, Mum. What on earth were you doing climbing Yorky’s Pinnacle?’

  Ellie closed her eyes. Now she remembered. It had been the ghosts of the past that had driven her up there, her own stupidity that had brought her back down with a thud. She had no idea of how long she’d lain there, but she could remember how cold it was – how wet – and the pain in her head where it had banged against a rock. And, although it had happened only a few hours ago – the dreams and memories had made it seem like years. She dredged up some energy to make light of it. ‘Reckon I thought I could still climb it,’ she said with a touch of humour. ‘I hadn’t banked on the rain.’

  ‘You’ve got to promise you’ll never do such a daft thing again,’ demanded Claire as she scraped back her tousled hair and caught it in an elastic band. ‘You could have died out there if we hadn’t found you.’

  Ellie had a terrible thought. ‘You haven’t told your father, have you?’

  Leanne shook her head. ‘We wanted to wait to see how you were this morning. Phil said you’d be right so there was no point in worrying Dad.’

  ‘Thank goodness,’ Ellie sighed. ‘He’d kill me if he thought I was dying.’ She realised what she’d said and laughed along with the girls. ‘Get me an aspirin,’ she gasped as the headache returned. ‘And a cuppa. My mouth’s foul and my brain’s turned to mush.’

  She frowned as the girls left the room. There was tension between them – just like the old days. And she hoped it had nothing to do with Claire’s home-coming.

  The telephone rang and was swiftly answered. Then Claire came back with the tea and aspirins. That was Aurelia,’ she explained. ‘I told her you were on the mend and not to worry.’ She sat down and grinned. ‘I also told her that on no account was she to drive over here. She was all set to race over, but with her driving anything could happen.’

  ‘Good on you.’ Ellie sipped her tea and swallowed the aspirins. She was feeling foolish. ‘I’m sorry I caused such a fuss,’ she muttered. ‘I just forgot the time.’

  Claire bit her lip. There was obviously something on her mind. ‘At least you’re okay,’ she said. ‘I was dreading telling Dad.’

  Ellie eyed her closely. Whatever it was, Claire had decided to keep it to herself. ‘Where’s Leanne?’

  ‘She’s organising the men for the day’s work. Smoky will take on the over-seeing in her place and Angel’s already out there.’ Claire smiled. ‘And you were right about his roving eye.’

  ‘He’s Argentinian. He can’t help it.’ Ellie realised her daughters were quite capable of getting on with things without her help, and in a way it saddened her. They were grown up – no longer little girls she could protect from the harsher side of life. ‘What about Matt Derwent?’ she asked. ‘Weren’t you supposed to be going out with him today?’

  Claire finished her tea and lit a cigarette. ‘I told Aurelia to put him off. I’d rather spend the day with you.’

  Ellie heard the words, but could see a different message in her daughter’s eyes. ‘That’s very flattering, darling,’ she said as she purposefully tugged away the blankets. ‘But I’m fine. Ring and tell her to send him over.’

  Claire’s gaze shifted. ‘Fair go, Mum. He’s a busy man, and probably doesn’t really want me hanging around. Besides,’ she added. ‘It’s too late, he’ll have been there by now.’

  Ellie dipped her chin and hid her smile in the sweep of her hair. Claire might protest – but perhaps a little too much.

  *

  Matt came in low over Warratah. It was a beautiful place, especially after the rain. Everything looked newly laundered, the white blossom of the Jarrah trees pristine against the rusting red of the corrugated roof, the green of the pepper trees and the citrus of the wattles almost startling against the cinnamon earth and verdant grass. His pulse began to race as he taxied to the end of the runway. The stock-yards were empty, there was no sign of anyone in home yard or around the out-buildings. Warratah looked deserted.

  He attempted to smooth back his springy hair, realised it was a waste of time, and climbed down from the plane. The scent of flowers drifted on the warm air and the silence was profound. With a sense of foreboding, he began to walk towards the homestead.

  The screen door slammed back with such a crash it made him jump. ‘There you are,’ boomed Aurelia. ‘You’re late.’

  Matt felt like a naughty school-boy who’d been caught in the bike shed having a smoke. ‘I got called to a difficult calving,’ he said as he approached the sagging steps. He tried to pierce the darkness beyond the door way. ‘Is Claire ready?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘She’s not here,’ said Aurelia.

  Matt swallowed. The disappointment was overwhelming and the sun seemed to have disappeared behind a black cloud. ‘Oh,’ was all he could say.

  Aurelia gave a bark of laughter. ‘No need to look so down in the mouth,’ she said in her rich contralto. ‘She’s had to go to Jarrah. You’re expected there.’

  His spirits rose and he could have kissed her. But the stern old lady was glaring at him through her monocle and he wouldn’t have dared. ‘Thanks,’ he stuttered.

  ‘Off you go then,’ she boomed. ‘Time’s wasting.’ She yanked the screen door open and disappeared back into the homestead.

  Matt had a spring in his step as he hurried to the plane. Things were looking up. It was going to be a lovely day after all.

  *

  Ellie had tied a plastic sack over the plaster on her arm and although she’d had some trouble shampooing her hair, had enjoyed the shower and felt much better. She was pottering about with a towel wrapped around her when she heard the approach of a small plane. Hurrying into the kitchen, she found Claire washing up the dishes. ‘Leave that. You’ve got a visitor.’

  Claire eyed her suspiciously. ‘What have you and Aurelia cooked up?’

  Ellie smiled. ‘You didn’t really expect your aunt to tell Matt to be on his way, did you? It’s not her style.’

  Claire dumped the dishcloth in the sink and turned her back on the plates. ‘I look a mess,’ she groaned. ‘I’ve slept in my clothes and my hair’s a bird’s nest.’

  ‘So go and do something about it while I get dr
essed. I’ll keep him entertained until you’re ready.’ She smiled as Claire hurried from the room. ‘So much for wanting to spend the day with me,’ she muttered with delight.

  The plane came to a halt as she hurried into the bedroom. Pulling on strides and shirt, she shivered. This was the room Charlie had slept in. The room where his nightmares had kept them awake. How distant those times were, yet how sharply etched in memory. With a sob of breath she left the room. The ghosts were closing in again.

  Once the house was silent again she went out to the verandah. She leaned against the post and smiled. Such comings and goings, she thought. Who’d have thought that level-headed Leanne would suddenly marry a dashing, sexy Argentine she’d known for only two months? And Claire, so chirpy when Matt arrived that she almost danced out the door. She gave a soft laugh. She’d known Aurelia would send him over – nothing much missed the old girl despite her age.

  Ellie hitched the sling more comfortably around her neck and stared out to the horizon. It was lovely to have both girls around again – she’d missed them terribly even though they fought like cats. Yet she knew this was merely a respite, for they were already immersed in their own lives and she would have to learn to take a back seat. The empty nest syndrome, she thought sadly as she stepped down into the yard. But at least I usually have plenty to occupy me.

  Bored, she decided to reacquaint herself with Jarrah and wandered through the stables, breathing in the smell of fresh hay and watered cobbles. The tack room was redolent of leather and harness and expensive saddles. The bunkhouse was freshly scrubbed with clean sheets and pillowcases on the iron bedsteads, but the ripe odour of feet and men meant she didn’t linger.

  Crossing the yard she entered the cookhouse. She stood in the centre of this vast room with the high, cathedral arched roof and realised its air was reminiscent of the thousands of meals that had been eaten here. Sunlight came through the windows, dust motes danced above the spotless stainless steel units and polished pots. It was all so different to the kitchens in her day, where the cook worked on a four ring butane stove, or worse a recalcitrant range, with smoke and condensation all mixed with the aroma of roast mutton and boiled cabbage. Ellie shivered despite the heat. She couldn’t stay on Jarrah. Her visits had been rare over the years, and when Leanne had begged to be given the chance to learn how to run a station, it had been granted with a sense of relief. For now she didn’t have to be reminded of those early years – didn’t have to sleep knowing that gravestone was near.

  She turned and left the cookhouse and crossed the yard. There were only three or four horses in the paddock, and as much as she would have liked to, she knew she couldn’t ride back to Warratah, or even take the ute. The headache was still lurking and her broken arm would make it impossible. With a sense of entrapment she turned away and headed for the fields behind the homestead.

  With her back against the gnarled trunk of a coolibah, she closed her eyes and let the dappled sunlight filter over her eyelids. The hum of flies and the sibilant call of a myriad number of insects made her drowsy. The scent of warm earth and dry grass combined with the perfume of roses and wattle and countless tiny wild flowers, and as the single, haunting flute of a bellbird drifted above her she was taken back to another time; a time when Jarrah had imprisoned Charlie – just as it was now entrapping her.

  *

  They returned to Warratah a month after Seamus’ funeral. Charlie was sitting beside Wang Lee on the wagon seat, Ellie rode alongside. The long trek was exhausting him. Yet he was determined to appear strong for Ellie.

  As they trundled over the lush pastures he breathed in the scent of eucalyptus, and the fresh, clean smell of damp earth and crushed grass that rose beneath the wagon wheels. The sepia dullness of drought was gone, drowned in a palette of colour that piqued the senses. Flowering red gum vied with the citrus yellow of wattle. The green, blue and red plumage of the rainbow lorikeets darted amongst the pale green foliage of the gums, and the stately perambulation of the orange and white cattle egrets amongst the vast herd of devons, shorthorns and herefords reminded them all that this wonderful country of theirs was one of vast contrasts and almost indescribable beauty.

  His restlessness grew as he watched a wedge tailed eagle hover in the warm breeze, wing-tips rippling, gaze fixed on something far below. He held his breath, waiting for the moment of the kill – and when the bird swooped he sighed. Oh, to be free like that, he thought wistfully. To be able to soar above the earth and see everything in the blink of one glorious golden eye. He became aware of Ellie watching him, but he didn’t mind. He was no longer the callow youth she’d once known, but a man who had learned to appreciate the beauty of his surroundings after witnessing the horrors of the world beyond the outback.

  They crested the final hill just as the sun was dipping towards the horizon. Warratah valley was bathed in an amber glow, which caught fire to the white bark of the gums, softened the harsh edges of the buildings and threw long shadows across the landscape. The homestead nestled into the blood red earth of the yard, the outbuildings scattered like the forgotten bales that might have fallen from a cart and come to rest in the dappled half-light of the guardian gums.

  Charlie looked down to where horses cropped beneath the trees and black swans glided amongst the squabbling ducks on the pewter billabong. The stock yards were full of cows with their calves and the ring of a hammer on anvil sang out a welcome.

  ‘Beauty, ain’t it?’ said Ellie proudly as she reined in beside the wagon. ‘No place on earth like Warratah.’

  His gaze trawled the endless pastures, the vast mob of cattle and the finely bred horses in the paddocks. He’d forgotten how big this place was, how rich compared to some he’d worked on. His thoughts drifted. ‘Your aunt owns all this?’

  She laughed. ‘Of course. ‘Don’t you remember, Charlie?’

  He looked down at Warratah with renewed interest, noticing how the setting sun cast a halo of gold around home pasture. ‘What about Jarrah?’ His tone was thoughtful, his expression studiously indifferent.

  She frowned at the question. ‘That belongs to Mickey,’ she replied. ‘We’ve just been looking after it until he comes home.’

  Charlie sat deep in thought as the wagon trundled down the hill towards Warratah.

  *

  Three months after Charlie had arrived on Warratah, Aurelia stood in the shadow of the barn and watched as he struggled into the saddle and picked up the reins. His scars were healed, but the shoulder was frozen so he couldn’t raise his arm higher than his chest. Yet he was looking so very different from the broken boy that had bravely withstood his pain so he could see his mate decently buried. She smoked her pipe as Charlie kicked the horse into a canter. Ellie was with him as usual. Watching over him as if by keeping him alive and well she could bring back a semblance of her lost Joe.

  ‘You’re not happy about that, are you?’ said Alicia as she emerged from the barn.

  ‘I’m glad he’s in the saddle again,’ replied Aurelia. ‘We could do with another pair of working hands.’

  Alicia dumped the saddles over the hitching post. ‘You know I didn’t mean that,’ she said. ‘It’s Ellie’s interest in him that worries you. Be honest, Aurelia, you never really liked Charlie, did you?’

  Aurelia chewed her pipe stem. ‘There’s something about him that makes me uneasy,’ she admitted. ‘I admire his undoubted bravery, and his will to recover, but his reaction to Joe’s death is worrying. It’s as if he feels nothing. I can’t help suspecting there’s something going on in that flawed mind that he’s not letting us see.’

  Alicia eyed her sharply. ‘You don’t think he’s been damaged mentally by what happened to him, do you?’

  Aurelia looked over at Ellie who was climbing into the saddle, laughing up into Charlie’s face, her brown, capable hand lightly touching his arm as if to assure him she would stay close. She noticed how Charlie possessively captured her hand and how intently he was looking at her. ‘There’s an
intensity about him that worries me,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘And I don’t like the way Ellie’s been drawn to him.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ said Alicia. ‘She’s getting far too close to him. Hardly ever leaves his side, and Wang Lee says they talk for hours after we’ve gone to bed.’

  Aurelia knocked out the dottle, stamped on it firmly and put the pipe in her pocket. ‘I’ve already tried talking to her, but she won’t listen. Thinks I’m being overcautious.’ She screwed her monocle in place and squared her shoulders. ‘And maybe I am,’ she said stoutly. ‘I know I can be overbearing – but it’s only because I care about her.’

  Alicia frowned as she watched the youngsters. ‘Joe’s been dead for nearly three years,’ she said quietly. ‘She has no photographs of him, and only a few letters and poems that have been read so often they’re almost illegible. I wonder sometimes if she still remembers what he looked like. Do you really think she’s seeing Charlie as a substitute?’

  Aurelia sighed. ‘She thinks she’s still in love with Joe. Looking after Charlie is just her way of perpetuating the myth. Hopefully, she’ll get over it.’

  ‘You don’t sound convinced,’ said Alicia mildly. ‘Ellie and Joe fell in love when they were kids. Even if by some miracle Joe is still alive, three years apart and a war to contend with will have made huge differences in both of them. I wonder if Ellie has grown so used to the idea of being in love with this missing hero that she hasn’t realised it’s now only in her mind.’

  Aurelia watched them leave the homestead yard and head for the paddocks. They looked good together, she admitted silently. The harmony obvious even from this distance. Yet one couldn’t see the calculation in Charlie’s eyes from here. Couldn’t catch the occasional glint of something darkly disturbing when he’d thought he was unobserved. ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder,’ she murmured.