‘Queenie says you’re to deal with this. It’s blue. Never cried. Stillborn.’ His voice broke. ‘Not a bloody sound. Here take it away for God’s sake. Isabel needs me.’
A moment later Queenie emerged from the cellar and ran to join Garnet at the trestle table. They massaged the mottled blue chest and limbs of the tiny babe, coating its lifeless little body with whisky before plunging it back and forth between the cold and hot water. Garnet blindly followed Queenie’s directions.
Time had ceased to exist. Queenie was exhausted but Garnet refused to give up.
‘This is not acceptable to me! I won’t allow it.’ He yelled at the tiny body. ‘Breathe! You can do it!’
His hands were rough and desperate, his heart crying out to hear the wail that never came.
There was no one else in sight, everyone was in the cellar, focused on Isabel, who was sobbing out in denial.
‘No! no! Why won’t you let me see it?’
Suddenly Garnet froze. Queenie touched his arm. They turned and watched in silence as it moved towards them. The thin stream of mist had no form but seemed to have a life-force of its own.
The filmy outline wrapped around the babe. And then Garnet heard the God-given sound – the cry of life. The babe turned pink and took its first breath.
Garnet picked up the bundle and held it over his head, naked, squirming and wailing. The babe’s tiny penis sent a gentle shower down into Garnet’s face.
Garnet roared with laughter. ‘Angel’s piss!’
Queenie sank to her knees, laughing and crying and thanking God, Jesus, the Buddha and all the gods in the Hindu pantheon.
With shaking hands Garnet wrapped the babe in a towel. He raced back to the cellar yelling in triumph and laid his grandson in the arms of his rightful owners.
Marmaduke fingered the miniature gold house on the pendant around Isabel’s throat. She lay there exhausted, pale and drenched with sweat. But he had never in his life seen a more beautiful, desirable woman.
‘I reckon Josiah Mendoza was dead right. He said something about a man’s true home being his wife.’
Isabel’s words were slurred with weariness. ‘Just as well. You keep burning our house down.’
Marmaduke stroked her hair. ‘I know this isn’t the perfect time to say this, Isabel. But I need to retract my promise. What I said about never touching you again – to spare you the agony of childbirth. I panicked. The truth is I think I handled the whole performance pretty damned well. I was as cool as a cucumber. So just to put your mind at rest, I’ll be more than happy to make a new babe for you – every year.’
When Isabel’s mouth hung open in disbelief, he added, ‘How about we start trying for a brother for Rufus later tonight, if you’re not doing anything?’
Isabel stared at him. ‘I can’t believe you said that, Marmaduke. I only gave birth an hour ago. You’re insatiable!’
‘Well, you can’t hang a man for his thoughts,’ he said with that twist at the corner of his mouth that always gave him away. ‘But I’m happy to take a kiss on account.’
He took her sweaty face between his hands and tenderly kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Who was it said something like, “Was ever woman so wooed, was ever man so won?” Oh yeah, I remember. It was Romeo to Juliet.’
‘It was not. You’re misquoting again to suit yourself. And it was Richard III.’
‘I’ll lay you five guineas it was Romeo.’
‘I haven’t got five guineas. We’re broke, remember? You can’t even afford to pay me my contract wages.’
‘That’s all right, sweetheart. I’ll let you work off the debt – in bed.’
Garnet listened to the sound of their mock fight and gave a weary smile of satisfaction. He looked across at Queenie boiling the billy for tea and they exchanged a nod of mutual respect. The whisky had all been used up in a good cause.
Garnet knew in his heart that Miranda would never again return to him in this lifetime. But to sustain him he had the wonder of that moment when she bent over the stillborn baby and gave it the kiss of life. Then she had turned to Garnet and smiled at him.
Garnet looked through the doorway of the cellar at the makeshift birthing room. On Marmaduke’s prompting he had sent Murray Robertson back to the house to bring Rose Alba to see her new baby brother. The little girl now lay asleep, curled up like a kitten in a rug at her mother’s feet. Marmaduke lay beside Isabel, loving her passionately with his eyes as she held the babe to her breast.
Garnet said the words in his heart. This is the happiest day of my entire life, Miranda. What we began – you, me and that damned Klaus – the unholy mess we made of our lives. Well, it’s all come right in the end. It took the three of us to create Marmaduke – and my dynasty. Now all I’ve got to do is build another fortune.
Struck by a thought that came in a sudden shaft of light, Garnet’s laughter was wild and long.
Queenie stood over him arms akimbo and demanded, ‘Don’t tell me you’ve chosen tonight to throw another one of your crazy turns!’
Garnet tried to quell his mirth. ‘Mother England did me a big favour when she chucked me out. But it just hit me – my sweetest revenge is yet to come! Silas de Rolland has “disappeared” forever. Isabel is now the last of that Plantagenet line to bear the de Rolland name. That means all Godfrey de Rolland’s future generations will bear my name – thanks to Rufus Gamble!’
Isabel lay awake looking around the cellar, the tragic trysting place where Marmaduke’s mother and her lover had conceived a babe in one of their last desperate acts of love. Now this room was a place of joy where Marmaduke’s son had been born.
Everything close to Isabel’s heart lay within reach. Marmaduke was asleep on her shoulder and Rose Alba at her feet. Baby Rufus lay wide-eyed in the crook of her arm, his fuzzy hair shining like a little red halo.
Isabel kissed his hand and whispered, ‘Thank you for coming to us, little one.’
Only one thing remained to be set right.
‘Marmaduke, are you awake?’
‘I am now,’ he said, his voice ragged with fatigue.
‘There’s something I need to tell you. A sort of confession.’
Marmaduke looked at her warily, suddenly wide awake. ‘Yeah? What is it?’
‘I found out about the loan you needed to rebuild the house and stock Mingaletta.’
‘Don’t worry, love, I’ll pay it all back in a year or two. Edwin says The Far Horizon Agricultural Company is safe. The new English settler who put up the loan is decent – even if a bit eccentric.’ He was suddenly alert. ‘Hang on a minute, what’s your confession?’
‘Don’t be cross, Marmaduke. That eccentric new English settler and The Far Horizon Agricultural Company – well, that’s me.’
‘You?! How in Hell could you put up a loan? I haven’t paid you in months.’
‘Well,’ she said nonchalantly, ‘what do I need with a tiara? I sold it to Uncle Godfrey at a very reasonable price.’
‘Hell! I’d never have allowed you to do that. Your tiara was your inheritance.’
‘No. You and the children are my true inheritance.’
Marmaduke drew her into his arms, searching for words. ‘Isabel, you are one gutsy English Rose...and my Currency Lass.’
Isabel drifted off to sleep smiling in the circle of her lover’s arms.
Beyond the ruins of Mingaletta, from the ghostly eucalypts at the heart of Ghost Gum Valley, came the sound of kookaburras’ laughter at the break of a brand new day.
AUTHOR’S NOTES
Ghost Gum Valley is a work of fiction, a marriage between imagination and history. I am indebted to the scores of historians and biographers whose work I read or who I consulted personally. The final choices and interpretations are mine and so of course are any errors of judgement. The opinions expressed by my characters about people and events in their era do not necessarily reflect my own.
All the characters involved in the contrasting worlds of the Gamble and de Rolland families are fi
ctional although I have borrowed some names and reputations (for better and worse) from my own ancestors. Their lives straddle the complex caste system of Penal Colony society of the era, described by Governor Sir Richard Bourke as ‘a most peculiar colony’, in which they intercept with historical characters who played public, even notorious, roles in the snakes-and-ladders pattern of colonial life. These include Barnett Levey, Father of Australian Theatre; Alexander Green, ‘The Finisher’, hated public hangman; Quaker social reformer James Backhouse; artist Augustus Earle; William Holmes, an early curator of Aboriginal artefacts; Emancipist Freemasons Samuel Terry, Francis Greenway and Dr William Bland.
Samuel Terry is seen solely through the eyes of the fictional Garnet Gamble, who is obsessed with toppling his rival from his status as the wealthiest man in NSW. Samuel Terry’s remarkable career as entrepreneur, philanthropist, respected family man and high-ranking Freemason, is meticulously documented in Gwynetth M. Dow’s fascinating biography, Samuel Terry: The Botany Bay Rothschild.
Marmaduke Gamble’s ambiguous social status was experienced by many free-born first generation Australians who were the off-spring of wealthy Emancipists. Although often widely travelled and well educated as hybrid ‘English gentlemen’, their inherited ‘convict strain’ made many of them social outcasts among the Colony’s Top Thirteen families (who no doubt would have been impressed by Isabel de Rolland’s blue-blooded ancestry).
Rupert Grantham’s murder and the trial scenes of his assassins are a fictional interpretation of the real-life murder of firebrand barrister and newspaper owner Dr Robert Wardell. I acknowledge with gratitude the detailed accounts in the Sydney Herald and Australian newspapers of the era. This rich archival material gave me the freedom to dramatize Marmaduke’s role in a trial that triggered the threat of convict insurrection and spread wild rumours that the ring-leader was manipulated by men in high places. One of these executed youths became the convicts’ hero, later idealized by Frank the Poet.
Whenever I was faced with contradictory accounts by respected historians I chose the version best suited to the story. For example the famous so-called ‘Barrington Prologue’. Reputable theatre historians are divided about the true identity of the author and/or actor (I have read six candidates to date) and exactly when the first version was performed. Marmaduke is a lover of theatre, not a contemporary historian with hindsight knowledge. Marmaduke never allows strict adherence to facts to get in the way of a good story. Therefore on stage he quotes with authority one of the theories circulating about the Prologue in order to inspire the illiterate convicts in his audience with the idea that they too are making Australian history.
For the creation of Garnet Gamble’s empire and Bloodwood Hall I owe special thanks to Matthew Stephens, Reference Librarian of the splendid Caroline Simpson Library and Research Collection, Historic Houses Trust NSW. He guided me to a cornucopia of richly illustrated material, including Rudolph Ackermann’s journal published monthly in Britain from 1809–1828. The Repository of Arts covers the arts, literature, commerce, manufacturing, and fashion and gives a vivid insight into how the wealthy in the Colony kept abreast of the Georgian era’s designs and lifestyle.
My fictional world of Bloodwood, Mingaletta, Ghost Gum Valley and Penkivil Park was drawn from colonial estates built by free convict labour some of which have survived thanks to the dedication of private families, historical trusts and societies. I was inspired by visits to Parramatta’s Old Government House, Vaucluse House, John Macarthur’s Camden Park, architect Francis Greenway’s Hyde Park Barracks, St James’s Church and South Head Lighthouse, and Tasmania’s wonderful colonial heritage. On a personal tour of Alexander Macleay’s Elizabeth Bay House, Curator Scott Carlin gave me fascinating insight into the Colonial master-servant relationship. The contrast between lavish assembly and family rooms with the assigned servant girls’ cramped quarters in attics hidden behind the parapets, and the ‘fish eye’ lens of the servants’ mirror in the dining-room, inspired dramatic scenes at Bloodwood Hall.
My addiction to the BBC series Antiques Roadshow was a rich source of antiques and architecture of Britain’s grand country mansions, many of which found their way into Bloodwood Hall, including the ‘priest hole’ and the secret at the heart of Marmaduke’s watch.
Ghost Gum Valley is my fictional name for a remarkable Aboriginal site I was privileged to visit but out of respect for the traditional custodians of the land I have not identified the location. Isabel’s awe and respect for Aboriginal culture is a direct reflection of my own. Garnet Gamble’s treatment of the Aboriginal tribes whose land he usurped is a matter of bleak historical record but does not of course reflect all landowners of the era. Marmaduke’s lost opportunity to explore Aboriginal culture and to sustain the friendship with tribal men he shared as a child, are a reflection of some members of his generation. But his use of the term ‘blacks’, common to the period, is used by him in a non-derogatory sense. While it is important to avoid political correctness, it must be acknowledged that many attitudes and language used in an historical context are unacceptable and offensive in contemporary Australia.
I am greatly indebted to many people and research sources for their help, including:
REBECCA EDMUNDS, Assistant Curator of the Justice and Police Museum, Sydney. Her expertise and tireless enthusiasm in accessing legal, police and courtroom archival material made my work a research adventure.
FABIAN LOSCHIAVO and LINDSAY ALLEN, Archivists of State Records NSW, for guiding me to a treasure trove of historical material including convict indents, shipping records, maps and census records.
PROFESSOR JOHN PEARN, Department of Paediatrics and Child Health, Royal Children’s Hospital, Brisbane, Queensland, author of many fascinating books on colonial medicine which proved invaluable in my research for both Ghost Gum Valley and Ironbark. I owe him special thanks for drawing my attention to colourful stories about duelling, the cause of transportation of a number of well-known ‘Gentlemen Convicts’. Colonial duels were often rough and ready events far outside the duelling rules of the era’s Code Duello.
DR ANDREA BANDHAUER, Senior Lecturer, Director of International and Comparative Literature Germanic Studies, School of Languages and Cultures, University of Sydney for her interest and advice about aspects of German language.
RABBI DR RAYMOND APPLE, AO, RFD, celebrated author on many subjects including Masonic history, was Chief Rabbi of The Great Synagogue for 32 years, Senior Rabbi to the Australian Defence Force, and Past Deputy Grand Master of the United Grand Lodge of NSW and the ACT. I am enormously grateful for his speedy e-mail responses from Israel to my questions, his Masonic contacts, insight into the influential role played by Masons in Penal Colony society and the impact of their acceptance of Emancipists into their ranks.
GRAHAME H. CUMMING, OAM, author, historian of The United Grand Lodge of NSW and ACT. My warmest thanks for steering me through complex Australian Masonic history via interviews, access to books, documents and memorabilia in the Masonic museum, his research of historical Masons. And not least helping me create credible Masonic backgrounds for the Gambles. To MICHAEL GOOT, Past Master of Lodge Mark Owen my thanks for his long support of my work and his introduction to historians of the United Grand Lodge.
JENNY MADELINE of the Society of Friends provided me with fascinating historical material, family documents concerning the beautiful Quaker Commitment ceremony, and understood my need to blend history with fiction when portraying Quaker missionary James Backhouse – renowned for his work in hospitals, prisons and the conditions of Aborigines and for establishing the first Quaker meeting houses in Tasmania (VDL) and mainland Australia.
ELSPETH BROWNE of ISAA (Independent Scholars Association of Australia) for her long-term interest and generous advice on historical questions.
The AUSTRALIAN JEWISH HISTORICAL SOCIETY’s archival team for their valuable suggestions about Jewish convicts of the era from which I drew the fictional Josiah Mendoza. I am particul
arly grateful to the society’s volunteer NOELA SYMONDS for her research help that included her ancestor Barnett Levey.
MARION MCCABE kindly gave me permission to use the extraordinary true story, told to me by her late mother, my friend Anne Goldie Cousland, that is the essence of the birth scene in Ghost Gum Valley.
UTA HERZOG, psychologist, for her valued expertise concerning the repercussions of childhood trauma suffered by adults. My friend SUSAN ARBOUW’s sensitive professional exploration of the repressed memories of child abuse. REV. DAVID HILTON for his remarkable insight and help to JAN D., a victim who willingly shared her childhood experiences for the benefit of this book.
DAVID SCOTT MITCHELL (1836–1907), legendary bibliophile and philanthropist whose vast legacy to Australia of his collection of books, art and historical memorabilia created the Mitchell Wing in the State Library NSW. In the reading room he endowed for historians and writers, where I read biographies of Edmund Kean, Governor Sir Richard Bourke, Thomas De Quincey’s The Confessions of an Opium Eater, it was a thrill to find his hand-written inscription DSM in the flyleaf and realize I was sharing loved books from the personal library of this great man.
My particular thanks to Librarians in the State Libraries of NSW, Victoria, Tasmania, Queensland, the National Library of Canberra and rural historical societies.
Finally I am grateful to my father, FRED PARSONS, TV and radio comedy writer, playwright and biographer of A Man called Mo (Roy Rene, ‘Mo McCackie’). He bequeathed to me his love of Shakespeare, comedy, the treasures in his theatrical library and a fund of anecdotes about actors, playwrights, and comedians dating from the strolling players of Shakespeare’s time.
AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My journey along the road to Ghost Gum Valley could not have been accomplished without generous personal and professional help from a number of very special people, not all of whom I have met face to face, but to all I offer my heartfelt thanks.
Ghost Gum Valley Page 58
