Eleanor noticed that her older sister had changed little in appearance since her brief visit to the convent six months ago. She was still very slight and pale, a paleness accentuated by lacklustre reddish hair.
‘Uncle Colin.’ Lesley extended a hand and was swiftly subjected to a kiss on the cheek.
‘It’s good to see you, Lesley, you’re looking well,’ said Colin.
‘Poor as a crow,’ Mrs Howell muttered from where she waited on the stairs. ‘Just look at her. She’s probably living on stale bread and gruel.’
Eleanor walked forward and held her sister tightly in her arms. God, she’d missed her, she’d missed her big sister so much. Eleanor could have hugged Lesley forever, but the frailness beneath the simple beige dress surprised her and she moved away, clasping Lesley’s hands. ‘You look great, sis,’ she said brightly, trying not to cry at the sight of the washed-out woman who used to be her vibrant older sister and confidante. ‘It’s so good to see you and to have you home, at last.’
Lesley gave a wan smile, her tone flat. ‘I forgot how far River Run was from Sydney. Sister Anna had to remind me with a map.’ She squeezed Eleanor’s hands before turning to Rex, who was waiting by the truck. ‘Thanks, Rex. I know I’ve already said it, but it’s good to see you.’
The gardener’s eyes grew moist. ‘It hasn’t been the same without you, Miss Lesley.’
‘Don’t forget what I said, Rex,’ Lesley told him, ‘a Bex powder will ease those aches and pains at the end of the day.’
‘I’ll remember. You let me know if you need anything, won’t you?’ Rex passed Lesley’s suitcase to Colin.
‘You’ll be the first person I’ll ask,’ replied Lesley.
Rex’s face crinkled up into a grin as he got into the truck and drove away.
‘Come on, Lesley,’ Georgia interrupted, ‘let’s get you inside and out of this afternoon heat.’
‘We must call Sister Anna and let her know that I’ve arrived. I promised that I would.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Georgia agreed, taking her daughter by the hand.
Lesley joined everyone on the veranda. ‘Mrs Howell, how are you? How’s the lumbago?’
The housekeeper, overcome by emotion, embraced Lesley like a lost child.
‘Don’t cry, Mrs Howell, you’ll make me start,’ Lesley complained kindly. ‘I’ll come down to the kitchen and we’ll have a nice cup of tea together once I’m settled.’
‘Bless you, Lesley,’ Mrs Howell sniffed.
‘And you remember Mr and Mrs Winslow, Lesley?’ Georgia directed her daughter inside the entrance hall to where their house guests waited.
‘It’s very nice to see you again, Lesley,’ Margaret said politely as she scrutinised the girl from head to toe.
‘And you. Hello, Mr Winslow.’
‘Hello, dear, a bit of country air will perk you up, although I’m afraid it’s a bit warmish.’
‘Where’s Robbie?’ asked Lesley, looking around the hallway.
‘Young Robbie is in his room. You’ll see him at dinner,’ Colin informed his stepdaughter.
‘Oh. Rex told me about the shooting and Robbie’s involvement. I didn’t realise that the patient was here on his account. I was under the impression it was a family friend who’d been injured.’ Lesley was clearly unimpressed not to have been told of Robbie’s implication. ‘Sister Anna said that –’
‘There was no need to trouble the Sister with our personal family business, Lesley,’ Georgia cut in. ‘No need at all. And I certainly didn’t see the need to bother you with a long-winded explanation. In short, it was an accident. But the stranger was trespassing. I’ll fill you in on the details once we’re upstairs.’
‘Everyone thinks he’s a communist,’ Margaret Winslow added.
Lesley appeared only mildly intrigued.
‘Regardless,’ Georgia continued, ‘he needs care. But you’ll meet him soon enough. Come now, let’s get you settled,’ Georgia told Lesley, walking towards the staircase. ‘Mrs Howell, a slightly earlier dinner if we could, please. Cocktails in half an hour,’ she suggested to the Winslows.
‘Fabulous,’ Margaret said enthusiastically. ‘We’ll shower and change for the festivities.’
‘I’ll get some ice and perhaps we could have some of those tasty savouries of yours, Mrs Howell. Prunes and bacon?’ Colin requested.
Mrs Howell’s tight smile was noticed by Eleanor. ‘Sure, I’ll just run to the corner shop.’
‘What was that?’
‘Nothing, Mr Webber,’ the housekeeper answered. ‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Good woman,’ Colin replied brusquely, heading towards the stairs with Lesley’s suitcase.
Eleanor and the Winslows walked behind Georgia, Colin and Lesley. Once upstairs, the Winslows went to their room to change as Colin deposited Lesley’s belongings in her bedroom.
‘I’ll be down directly, Colin,’ Georgia informed her husband. ‘I’ll get Lesley settled first and then I’ll show her the patient before dinner. Off you go, Eleanor. You two girls can catch up later.’ Georgia closed the bedroom door, leaving Eleanor standing in the corridor.
‘Don’t take it personally, Eleanor,’ Colin said from the landing.
‘I’m learning not to take many things personally, Uncle Colin,’ she replied, pointedly.
Her uncle appeared ready for an argument but surprised Eleanor by walking downstairs. She listened to the tap of his wooden stick before heading to her own room, where she shut the door. Lesley may have returned to River Run, but in her heart Eleanor knew that her sister didn’t really want to be there.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Robbie’s feet dragged as he followed Mrs Howell down the staircase, his finger tracing the wooden banister. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Lesley, although he barely remembered her, and it was true that he expected his parents to yell at him, again. These things, however, were unimportant compared to what lay ahead – boarding school. And with another dinner, another night, the thought of the too few sleeps left before it was time to go frightened him. Hard-faced Howell was urging him to hurry up, to lift his feet and walk properly, to stop his whinging, to stand up straight. The woman walked stiffly, grasping the banister for support, trailing a powdery scent. At the bottom of the stairs she bent low, straightening his shirt, and checked his face for the fourth time. Used spittle to settle his hair. Robbie cringed. Her hands were hard. They scraped his skin like splintery pieces of wood.
‘Get those hands out of your pockets, Robbie. Pockets are for keeping things in. Hands are for constructive activities. Idle hands make idle minds, and I’m sure you don’t want your parents to think that they’ve bred an indolent youth.’
Who would check the crow-trap, track the person who’d stolen his cray-bobs, keep an eye on jug-head ugly Archie or the Chinaman and Billy Wright? And what about the communists? Okay, maybe Eleanor was right. After all, there was an American dollar coin hidden at the base of the peppercorn tree down in the yards. So maybe the stranger wasn’t a commo, but they still didn’t know that for sure and perhaps the communists wouldn’t attack River Run, but that didn’t mean some of them weren’t here, down at the woolshed, waiting and watching.
The long entrance hall stretched out like a tunnel. Laughter sounded from the dining room. Mrs Howell glanced over her shoulder ensuring that he still followed. Robbie’s eyes were on the solid timber door at the end of the hall; on the brass knob and stained-glass pane. Outside, lay the garden, the bush. There were plenty of places to hide. He stuck a finger between his neck and the buttoned-down collar of the shirt he wore, trying to increase the gap. When he swallowed, the sweaty skin of his throat stuck on the material. He could run now, he thought. Head to the stables and ride away on Garnet, hide in the tree at the river.
‘Lesley’s been through a lot so you be nice to her.’
They’d stopped at the door to the dining room.
‘No talking back or misbehaving,’ Mrs Howell instructed. ‘The W
inslows are still here, treat the place like their own they do, but that aside, they’re important people. Remember that, Robbie. Best behaviour. Don’t talk with your mouth full. In fact, don’t talk at all, unless someone talks to you first.’
Up close the old woman was all flat grey hair, squiggly lines and puckered skin, but her eyes were clear and hard and Robbie knew from experience that she could move like the wind when she felt inclined. More than once he’d felt the sharp sting of a slap to his backside. He nodded and mouthed okay, scared of talking lest he start to cry. No-one understood. No-one understood anything.
‘Chin up, Robbie.’ The housekeeper smoothed the neat white collar of her dress. ‘This is an important family occasion, what with your sister being back and all.’
‘But they’re sending me away,’ the words spilt over each other, ‘and I don’t want to go, Mrs Howell. I don’t want to leave Garnet and my cattle-pup. I don’t want to share a room with ten other boys, or live in the city. What will I do in the city?’ He was holding her arm, squeezing the papery skin.
Very gently she prised his fingers free. ‘Calm down, Robbie, you’ll just make yourself sick.’
‘But what do I want all that learning for? I can read and write already and I promise I won’t steal any more of your tinned food.’ He could feel his lip quivering.
‘Smarten yourself up, young man.’
Robbie buried the knuckles of his hands in his eyes. He felt the housekeeper squeeze his shoulder ever so slightly.
‘Not all of this is your fault, Robbie,’ Mrs Howell said a little more kindly. ‘I know that. You’ve been left alone a lot and your parents, well, your parents have done their best, but things have happened, bad things, and it’s best for everyone now if you go away to school. Besides, it’s the duty of every young landed man to make sure he makes the most of his education. Especially if he’s going to inherit a fine property like River Run. Now wipe your face, everyone’s waiting for you.’ She opened the door, shuffling him into the room. Six pairs of eyes turned towards them as Mrs Howell led him to a seat in-between his half-sisters. Everyone spoke to him at once, as if they were pleased to see him.
‘Hello, Robbie. You’ve grown.’
‘Hello,’ he answered. Lesley was softly spoken, pale with red-gold hair and a narrow face. She wasn’t pretty but she wasn’t ugly either and when she smiled, he noticed that her bottom teeth looked as if they’d been partially ground away.
‘There, here we all are.’ His father lifted a glass. ‘All together again.’
The occupants at the table clinked their glasses and smiled too-bright smiles. Robbie swung his legs back and forth. The horse-faced Winslow woman was staring at him, smoking and staring. He studied the ceiling, the silver knife and fork, the two electric fans at either end of the room blowing hot air across the polished oak table. Mrs Howell cleared away the individual salad entrées eaten before his arrival, as moths outside fluttered against the flyscreens on the wide windows. Everyone looked hot and the room smelt of perfume and sweat and cigarette smoke. Miss Hastings arrived to serve plates of hot corned beef with string beans, potatoes and a mustard sauce. Robbie tried to catch the governess’s eye so she’d know he was sorry. He didn’t mind her, not really.
‘Are you okay?’ asked Eleanor, following the direction he gazed. ‘Don’t expect a smile, Robbie. She’s lost her job now you’re leaving. She’s only helping out tonight as a favour to Mrs Howell.’
‘But what if I come back?’ he asked. ‘Who will school me then?’ He twisted the linen napkin Eleanor smoothed across his lap. Mrs Howell was leaving the room and he really didn’t want her to go.
‘By then you will have finished school,’ Eleanor told him, ‘and you’ll have no need of a governess.’
Robbie digested this news as the adults began to eat. Was he never to come home then until he’d finished, not even for holidays? ‘But –’
‘Eat your dinner, Robbie,’ Lesley’s quiet voice soothed. ‘There are many people in the world who sit down to empty plates this night.’ Her small hand took his, giving it a gentle squeeze. He noticed the large wooden cross hanging from a chain about her neck. ‘Sister Anna always reminds me that God will forgive those who are sorry for their crimes.’
‘But –’
‘Pray to the Virgin Mary and she will help you.’
Somehow he didn’t think God or Mary were going to be much help to him at all. Not unless they could pick the padlock so he could open the balcony door. His father was telling a joke, something about a buck-jump rider with a harelip.
‘Not in mixed company,’ his mother warned, salting her meal.
‘Later,’ he promised the adults.
‘The injured man has woken,’ Lesley continued speaking to Robbie. ‘Already there is hope, for him and you.’
Robbie tugged his hand from Lesley’s sweaty grasp, the back of his throat going dry. He reached for the water glass, spilling a little of the contents as he drank.
‘Don’t look so worried, Robbie. He can’t speak at the moment,’ Lesley explained, ‘but I’m sure it won’t be long.’ Her bottom teeth were short and grey. ‘Aren’t you interested to know who he is?’
Robbie didn’t know how he should answer.
‘Oh God, yes,’ Mrs Winslow spoke up from across the table. ‘I, for one, am dying to know who he is. I’m only sorry that I’ve not been able to even have a peek at him. Restricted visitors, that’s what that Greek nurse told me.’ She flipped the lid of a cigarette lighter with a vivid pink nail. ‘Talk about boringly dictatorial.’
Robbie stared at the great chunks of corn meat and the thick sauce on it.
‘Well, she’s gone now.’ Georgia dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. ‘Took off in a huff after lunch, apparently.’
‘I think she was offended, Mum,’ Eleanor spoke up.
Robbie could tell by the edge to his sister’s voice that she and their mother weren’t happy with each other. Everyone at the table concentrated on their meals.
‘Athena Pappas was employed in a short-term capacity, Eleanor. If she expected more then she was mistaken. I can’t help that.’
‘What she expected,’ replied Eleanor, ‘was not to be judged. Someone’s personal life should be just that, personal. And how they choose to live their life is totally up to them. No-one else.’
Robbie sunk a little lower in the chair. His father’s forkful of food never made it to his mouth. A long bean fell to the plate, then a splodge of sauce. Robbie guessed this was about the comics that his father found yesterday. He’d been furious to discover them in Robbie’s room and when he had, he’d searched Eleanor’s bedroom as well.
‘Is that right, Eleanor?’ Colin said slowly. ‘Well then, that would mean that you’d have to keep your opinions to yourself regarding relationships. All relationships.’
It was the smile on his father’s face that bothered Robbie. It just didn’t look right. Like it was pretend or something.
Eleanor took a sip of water.
‘Is this a private conversation or can anyone join in?’ Mrs Winslow interrupted. ‘Now, let’s get back to more fascinating conversation, like the young stranger under your roof, Georgia.’
‘He’s not some freakshow, Margaret,’ her husband chastised.
She waved his remark aside. ‘What’s he really like? Do tell, Eleanor. Everyone’s been very short on description, including you.’
Eleanor placed her knife and fork down. ‘Umm, tall. Six foot, I’d imagine. Dark-haired, with a bushman’s tan. You know, red neck and brown from the elbows down.’
Mrs Winslow propped her chin on a hand. ‘Handsome? Like that overseer of yours?’
‘Not bad-looking,’ Eleanor hedged.
Margaret laughed. ‘A non-committal response if ever I’ve heard one.’ She turned to her hostess. ‘He must be handsome, Georgia. Best you keep your wits about you now you have your two young women tending to him.’
‘I still say that either he doe
sn’t speak English or he’s hiding something.’ Mr Winslow tapped out a cigarette and lit it, took a couple of quick puffs. ‘If it was me, I’d get him moved as soon as possible.’
‘We only need the all-clear from the doctor. He’s no longer on a drip.’ Georgia rang a small silver bell at her elbow and Miss Hastings appeared. ‘More sauce please.’ She pointed at the silver sauce boat and the governess carried it back to the kitchen for a refill.
‘I hear you’re going away to school, Robbie.’ Lesley cut a small piece of meat and chewed slowly.
Robbie thought about the American silver dollar hidden in the jar at the woolshed. What if the man he’d shot really was innocent, just like that gunfighter wrongly accused of murder in the comics?
‘I loved boarding school, well, we both did, didn’t we, Eleanor?’ Lesley persevered.
‘Once you get used to it.’ Eleanor stabbed at the beans on her plate. ‘Mind you, we were sent away younger than you, Robbie. You’ll find it easier than we did, simply because you’re a bit older.’
‘I don’t want to go, Eleanor,’ Robbie whispered.
‘I’m sure you don’t,’ she agreed. ‘It will be hard to get used to at first, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.’
Lesley leant forward and frowned at her sister. ‘Robbie wants to hear positives about boarding school, Eleanor.’
‘Well, don’t count on the food, young man,’ Mr Winslow interrupted. ‘Worse food I ever ate was at boarding school, and the bugger of it was there was a lot of the stuff. Used to go to the chook pens in the evening, snuck out we did to steal the eggs. We boiled them up out on the flat in the dead of night in a broken pot. When the senior boys discovered what we’d been doing, they stuck our heads down the toilet and flushed them. Not good.’ He shook his head. ‘Not good at all.’
Robbie looked from his mother to his father. Surely they wouldn’t actually send him to such a place.
‘Keith,’ his wife giggled, ‘that is hardly appropriate dinner conversation.’ She took a sip of her drink, resting her cigarette in one of the individual ashtrays placed in front of each adult. She proceeded to eat and smoke simultaneously and Robbie noticed that from time to time she stared a lot at his father, who, in turn, made a point of not looking in her direction.
River Run Page 23
