Windflowers

by Tamara McKinley

  The sitting room was almost in darkness, the light coming only from the candles on the fire mantel. Shadows danced on the walls and ceiling, glinted in glass and copper and on Ellie’s tears. She looked up as the girls came into the room and they saw the pain in her eyes. ‘I was waiting until you came back. Claire,’ she murmured. ‘I’m so glad you have.’

  Claire kissed her mother’s tear-stained cheek. ‘Let’s go home,’ she breathed.

  Angel landed the plane as long shadows crept over Warratah. Birds were gathering, swooping in clouds of colour as they came home to roost in the trees and the tiny bush wallabies were loping out of the shrub to drink at the waterhole. Warratah was somnolent at the end of another scorching day. Its buildings settled and golden in the last of the light, the red earth of the yard softened by the creeping shadows.

  As the women stepped down they were met by Warratah’s Aborigines and the three men who’d been left to look after things during the bullock muster. With solemn care they lifted out the roughly hewn wooden coffin and carried it into the old homestead. Death had come so swiftly there hadn’t been time to do much but have Jarrah’s carpenter knock the coffin together, but they all knew it didn’t matter for Aurelia had never been one to stand on ceremony.

  The old homestead already looked abandoned. The steps were off true, the corrugated roof drooping like sleepy eyelids over the deeply shadowed verandah. The windows were dusty, the paintwork peeling on the wooden walls. Yet the roses and the trailing flowers gave it an air of comfort, of restorative energy, and their scent was almost overpowering. Jessie stood in the doorway, her face white with clay, the traces of her tears on her cheeks.

  She stood back as the men carried the coffin into the lounge and laid it gently on the board that had been placed between two chairs. ‘Earth sing her, missus,’ she said sorrowfully to Ellie. ‘Jessie knowed. Sing alonga me in night. Missus boss sing ‘im to sky.’

  Ellie patted her arm, too exhausted to speak. She eased the sling and struggled to light the candles. Now she had to find the strength to keep the long vigil through the night, for Aurelia would be buried early tomorrow. The outback heat didn’t allow for a long period of mourning – the vast distances involved meant there would be few visitors.

  She became aware of Leanne and Claire taking charge. Jessie was sent to make something to eat, and the endless ringing telephone was answered swiftly. News travelled fast here in this great Never Never and Aurelia was well-known and admired. Ellie cradled her broken arm, leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Bringing Aurelia home was the last thing she could ever do for her beloved aunt and she knew it was the only place her spirit would rest.

  The homestead was shrouded in darkness, the flickering candles sending dancing shadows across the still, waxen face. Ancient timbers creaked and settled, the scurry of a possum on the roof and the soft swish of foliage from the trees against the windows were the only evidence of the outside world as the three women waited for the morning. Yet Aurelia’s spirit remained strong within those wooden walls. Her presence felt in every shadow and corner.

  The girls talked about their childhood and Aurelia’s influence. Ellie recounted her kindnesses, her energy and resilience. They talked of Jack and even Kelly, for the cockatoo was as much a part of Aurelia as the monocle and brogues. The tears were abating as the fond memories took over. For they knew she would always be with them.

  ‘I hope Dad makes it in time,’ said Leanne as the clock on the mantelpiece struck three.

  ‘He’ll do his best,’ replied Ellie. ‘It just depends on how far out of Jarrah he was when he got the message. But I sent the plane back for him, so he should be here soon.’

  Leanne poured more coffee from the pot Jessie had left on the dresser and handed round the mugs. ‘Matt phoned,’ she said with studied nonchalance. ‘Sorry, I forgot to tell you. He’s flying in tomorrow to pay his respects.’

  Ellie noticed how her daughter blushed. Despite all the terrible things she’d learned in the past twenty four hours Claire still had the strength to overcome – to keep hold of the things that mattered. ‘I suppose I should tell you how and why Jarrah was left to Claire,’ she said as the coffee began to chase away the weariness.

  ‘Only if you feel up to it,’ said Leanne as she looked across to her sister and smiled. ‘Claire and I will sort things out between us eventually.’

  Ellie looked at both her lovely daughters. She was proud of them for their stoicism and resilience. ‘I’m glad there’s no more ill-feeling between you,’ she murmured. ‘Charlie would have won otherwise.’

  She saw them frown and knew she had to explain. ‘Mickey was devastated when my mother turned down his proposal. He knew he only had a short time to live, but he hadn’t wanted to put my mother into the position of accepting him through pity, so kept quiet. With Seamus gone there was no one to pass Jarrah to. He’d considered Aurelia, but knew she and Jack had other plans, so when he heard Charlie and I were getting married he decided to repay Charlie for what he’d tried to do for Seamus.’ She sighed. ‘Poor Mickey. He thought he’d found the perfect solution.’

  ‘He left Jarrah to Charlie?’ Leanne paled as her gaze sought her sister. ‘But they both died before Claire was born. How come you didn’t inherit?’

  Ellie stared beyond the coffin into the flickering shadows. ‘Owning Jarrah gave him the opportunity to get back at me for not loving him, and at Aurelia for distrusting him. He knew our marriage would be a sham. Knew he was dying from his war wound. It would be his final revenge for all the imagined slights and hurts.’ She looked at the girls and realised she hadn’t told them what Jack had revealed that day at the hospital.

  Claire paled as Ellie finished recounting Charlie’s war history. ‘So he wasn’t really bad?’ she said with hopeful softness.

  Ellie smiled back at her, masking her true thoughts. ‘No, darling. No one is all bad. He was just confused and bitter, and hit out without really understanding the damage his bequest could do.’ She watched her daughter, knowing the white lie would bring her some comfort.

  ‘Did he go to prison?’ Claire bit her lip, her eyes fearful.

  Ellie shook her head. ‘He died in a dust storm somewhere out in the Territories. His body was found eventually and identified by the Victoria Cross they found in his pocket. He had no one else, so we agreed to bury him on Jarrah.’ She fell silent for a moment, remembering that simple ceremony in the quiet graveyard. It had been an emotional home-coming – one that had been unwelcome.

  ‘Charlie wrote a will shortly after Mickey died, and once his body had been identified, the solicitor was free to reveal the full impact of it. We already knew Mickey had willed Jarrah to Charlie, but the solicitor informed us Charlie had left the station in trust for his unborn child – you, Claire – on your twenty fourth birthday. And must be handed down to your children on your death. I was to have no part of Jarrah, and neither was Aurelia. It was his final defiance.’

  Claire emitted a deep sigh. ‘It doesn’t matter any more,’ she said. She turned to Leanne and took her hand. ‘I’m going to get a solicitor to try to revoke the trust. If I can’t, then I’ll make one of my own and put the whole thing in trust for Leanne’s children as well as mine. Leanne will have a life interest in Jarrah which will pass on to the next generation.’ She gave a weary smile. ‘That’s if there is one – and if they want to be tied to Jarrah. I’ll make sure it’s open enough to give them a choice.’

  ‘You’d do this for me despite everything I’ve said?’

  ‘Of course. You’re my sister.’

  ‘But can such a thing be done?’ There was a spark of hope in Leanne’s eyes. ‘I thought trusts were set in stone.’

  ‘Laws are changing all the time, and if this trust is revocable, then there’s no reason why we can’t change it.’ She put her arm around Leanne’s shoulder and hugged her. ‘Either way, we aren’t going to fight any more.’

  The ornate clock struck five and the first fingers of li
ght were creeping between the curtain folds. The long vigil was almost over.

  ‘Dad must have been further out than we thought,’ muttered Leanne. ‘He should have been here by now.’

  Ellie looked at the clock, surprised how time had moved on so swiftly during those still, almost silent hours of the night. ‘He’ll be here,’ she said firmly. ‘He’s never let me down yet.’

  Claire rubbed her eyes and yawned. ‘I don’t know how you can be so sure,’ she said. ‘Dad could have decided to go on one of the road-trains. He’s done it before.’

  ‘Not without letting me know first,’ replied Ellie as she pinched out the guttering candles and let a little light into the room.

  ‘You and Dad have a good marriage, don’t you?’ said Leanne as she cleared away the dirty cups and overflowing ashtray. ‘You’re never apart for very long, and yet I’ve never heard you fighting – not seriously, anyway.’

  Ellie smiled and a warmth spread through her as she thought of the years they’d been together and the life they’d carved for themselves out here on Warratah. ‘We’ve had our disagreements,’ she said with a gentle laugh. ‘When you girls were little we’d have furious rows, but they were conducted in whispers in the privacy of our room and were always patched up afterwards.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘We both have the same daft sense of humour and sooner or later one of us would say something stupid and we’d get the giggles. Once that happened it was all over and we made up.’ She knew she was blushing as she caught the girls pass a knowing look, but was unashamed of letting them know she was still in love.

  ‘You never told us how you and Dad got together,’ said Claire, her eyes bright with curiosity. ‘Or why you chose that particular day to get married.’

  ‘We didn’t really chose it,’ began Ellie. ‘It just sort of happened.’

  *

  The dry storm had come from the west and had been swiftly followed by rain. It lashed the yard and paddocks, drummed on the corrugated roof and swelled the creeks. Trees bent against the ferocity of its power. Cattle huddled miserably and the dogs howled in their kennels. Ellie and Aurelia knew trouble would soon follow.

  ‘Typical of Jack to be off playing with his planes when there’s work to be done here,’ shouted Aurelia above the drumming of the rain on the iron roof. ‘And I wish your mother hadn’t taken it into her head to leave just when we need every pair of hands we can get.’

  ‘Fair go. Jack’s busy making enough money to set you both up for life – he was never going to settle down here twiddling his thumbs,’ Ellie shouted back. ‘As for Mum… She’s been wanting to go for months. Me getting pregnant was the last straw, I reckon. And what with Joe and everything I think she’d had enough. You can’t blame her.’

  ‘You’d have thought she’d at least have waited until the baby was born,’ grumbled Aurelia.

  Ellie put the hurt aside and smiled sadly as she thought of their last parting. It had all been done so swiftly, coming without warning a few days after Joe’s hospitalisation. Alicia had packed her bags, said goodbye and left on the next ship out of Darwin. She would be in England now, and probably much happier. ‘Mum wasn’t particularly fond of her own child. I shouldn’t think being a grandmother will change her much.’

  Aurelia seemed to understand the underlying hurt of Ellie’s declaration despite the spirited manner in which it had been delivered. She put her hand on Ellie’s shoulder. ‘How are you keeping? You look as if you’re about to pop.’ She stared out at the rain and the dismal sky that promised more to come. ‘I hope you can hold on long enough to get the doctor out here. Though if this rain doesn’t let up there’s no way a plane will be able to land.’

  Ellie fidgeted in the chair and tried to ease the ache in her back. She had tried not to think about the coming baby and the mysteries of giving birth. But it was difficult to ignore something that kicked and moved about and made even the simplest task difficult to perform. Her hand caressed the mound beneath the overalls protectively. ‘We’re doing fine,’ she murmured.

  She stared through the window at the drenched paddocks and dripping roofs. She hadn’t thought she could feel so much love for this tiny being growing inside her. For it hadn’t been wanted, hadn’t even been made out of affection. Yet as the months progressed and the forthcoming birth drew ever nearer she found herself singing to it, caressing it to still it when it became restless. As long as they had each other they would survive the gossips. Life on Warratah would be sweet for this tiny scrap – she’d see to that. If only Joe was here, she thought sadly. If only he could remember why things had come to such an impasse. There had been no word from him, no letter or even a telephone call since that awful day at the hospital, and although Dr O’Neil kept her up to date with his progress it wasn’t the same as being able to talk to him. To see his beloved face and hear his voice. To be able to explain that despite all that had happened she loved him – had always loved him.

  The despair was almost overwhelming. Did Joe hate her that much? Did he really despise her enough to turn his back on her for ever? She sighed. Life could be so bloody unfair, she thought. So damned complicated.

  It was as if Aurelia could read her mind. ‘He’s being released soon,’ she said grimly. ‘What will you do if he turns up here?’

  ‘Welcome him,’ Ellie replied with spirit. ‘And hope we can at least be friends – there’s nothing worse than being strangers. I hate being shut out of his life. Hate this silence between us.’

  Jacky Jack came splashing through the puddles, the rooster feather in his hat drooping wetly over his eyes as he stomped into the lounge. ‘River’s running a banker, missus,’ he shouted over the thunder of the rain. ‘Gotta get them cows out of the top paddock before they gets drownded.’

  Aurelia grabbed her hat and long waxed riding coat. Ellie grabbed her own wet weather gear and struggled to do up the buttons over her swollen belly. ‘You’re staying here,’ ordered Aurelia. ‘You’re too far gone to be riding out in this lot – especially if the river’s broken its banks.’

  Ellie carried on struggling with the buttons. ‘You need every hand you can get, remember? The baby isn’t due for another two weeks. I’ll be fine.’

  Wang Lee appeared in the doorway, Fu Man Chu at his heels as always. ‘Stay in house Miss Ellie. Baby come when on horse you in big trouble.’

  ‘You should learn to stop listening at doors,’ Ellie said more sharply than intended.

  ‘You still very rude,’ snapped the ancient little man. He stuffed his hands up the voluminous sleeves of his tunic. ‘Wang Lee not like you today.’

  Ellie gave him a swift hug of contrition. He was thin and shrivelled and as old as the hills, but she knew that when he was gone there would be an enormous void left behind that no-one else could fill. She put a stop to further argument by ramming on her hat and pushing through the front door. Plodding down the verandah steps, she splashed through the puddles aware she was waddling and probably looked ridiculous. But it felt good to be doing something useful again. Good to be on the move and occupied so she didn’t have time to think.

  There were fifteen of them in all including the stock boys. Some of the men had returned from the war and had come straight to Warratah to get their old jobs back, but others had never returned and each time the men and women rode out their absence was a sharp reminder of the toll the war demanded. The top paddock was two thousand square acres that sprawled on either side of the steep-sided Six Mile Creek. The grazing was usually good and because they’d had a prolonged dry spell recently, the bullocks had been mustered up there to encourage them to grow fat. Now they were up to their hocks in mud, trampling the earth into a quagmire as they tried to shelter behind one another. Visibility was down to a few feet, the rain falling in an unremitting grey curtain.

  The river was running high and fast, tearing down the deep gully that wound through the pastures, roaring over the low dams that had been built to keep the water in during the droughts and finally tumbled
into Six Mile lake further down where it would spread across the plains forming islands of sodden grass.

  ‘Round ‘em up on this side and get them over the river before these banks go,’ yelled Aurelia. ‘Then we’ll head them back up to high ground on Blackman’s ridge.’ She cracked the stock whip and the blue heelers raced to begin work.

  Ellie cracked her whip and dug in her spurs. The movement of the galloping horse beneath her was excruciatingly uncomfortable and she had to stand in the stirrups. Aurelia was right she admitted silently – she was too far gone to be messing about like this – but it was too late now.

  The bullocks complained and tried to escape the hustling dogs and the determined riders. When they realised there was no alternative they grudgingly complied and with a great deal of persuasion finally began to wade across the narrowest part of the river.

  Ellie remained on the far bank chivvying the more reluctant of the animals as the rain dripped from her hat and down her collar and her hands became slick on the reins. The baby was squirming restlessly inside her, kicking hard as if to complain that this was no way to treat an unborn infant. She did her best to ignore the deep pain in her back that had begun to snake across her lower abdomen. Her legs ached from standing in the stirrups, and she was fast losing her strength. The unaccustomed, bruising ride was beginning to take its toll after so many weeks of enforced idleness, but she was determined to see the job through.

  She followed the stragglers across the torrent. The water was almost belly high on her horse as it snorted and whinnied and rolled its eyes. ‘Come on you bugger, move yourself,’ Ellie shouted. ‘It’s only bloody water.’ She urged him on, standing high in the stirrups as the water reached above her boots and swirled around her aching thighs. The rain was coming down so heavily she could barely see the complaining bullocks that swam beside her, the dogs riding their backs, nipping at their ears to keep them on the move.