Land of Milk & Honey

by William Taylor

  In the way of things, it was all a jumble. Hard, really, to separate the good from the bad. The once-a-year visits to Gran and the trips to the fairground near where she lived. The laughter and love on birthdays and high days and holidays. Somehow, though, it all got mixed up in some great big melting pot of good times…and the bad; air-raid sirens and shelters, blacked-out windows and bomb-sites, streets with this house and that house missing, sometimes three or four in a row so that those streets looked for all the world like giant gaping ugly mouths with some teeth still there, some decaying away—but too many missing. And then his father taking him to view the site of the little factory where his mother had worked until…Ahh! Some things were better hidden away…

  V

  Clarence Arthur Pearson was found not guilty on the charges he faced in the Magistrate’s Court. The magistrate agreed with Pearson’s lawyer that the man, a respected and hardworking member of the community with an otherwise unblemished record, had exerted no more than reasonable force in disciplining the boy. The magistrate also found that Pearson could in no way be held responsible for the actions that followed his departure from the worker’s quarters.

  Gary Walter Miller was found not guilty on the charges he faced in the same court. A normally decent and responsible young man, he had allowed himself to be carried away in the heat of the moment. His boyish actions, while inappropriate, were not necessarily unnatural. The magistrate said he placed considerable weight on the testimony of both Miller’s employer and the president of the local rugby club as to Miller’s worth as a young citizen. Gary Walter Miller shed tears of relief and joy.

  Both verdicts were occasion for a cheer from the folk packed into the small, cramped, uncomfortable and very hot courtroom, most particularly those from the rural community.

  Darcy Clarence Pearson was less fortunate. Despite heartfelt pleading from the expensive lawyer employed on his behalf by his parents, Pearson was found guilty on all of the serious charges he faced that day. The magistrate told Pearson that it was only the grace of God and sheer good luck that meant he was not facing a more serious charge; manslaughter at the least. The magistrate said it was a tragedy that a generally decent young man from a good family had allowed himself to be so carried away. Pearson was sentenced to borstal training, a term of up to two years, its length dependent on Pearson’s own progress towards reform. The magistrate expressed the opinion that he would come out, at the end of the training as a wiser young man. Darcy Pearson also cried his eyes out.

  Pearson was allowed five minutes with his parents before being packed in the back of a black wagon and then carted off to begin his sentence.

  Jacob John Neill discovered that being a victim carried penalties of its own.

  Neill’s testimony could not be faulted. Two highly trained and hard-eyed lawyers couldn’t budge him from the truth. He didn’t embellish or exaggerate but was absolutely immovable in his opinion that he could not be held in any way responsible for what had happened to him. He looked straight ahead at all times and kept his eyes focussed either into the distance or on the three other witnesses called by the police; James Robert McGregor, medical practitioner, Margaret Beatrice Henderson, retired school teacher, and Robert William Te Huia, student. From time to time he drank from a glass of water, supplied by the court registrar on the orders of the magistrate. Supporting evidence offered by the police consisted, in the main, of a series of photographs of excellent quality, taken by Dr McGregor, of the injuries sustained by the victim. Additionally presented as evidence was a blood-soaked Harris tweed jacket, recovered a week following the events from beside the railways tracks near Tiakatahuna Siding, four or five miles from the town.

  The only moments of sympathy for the victim came when the lawyer for Darcy Pearson, on examining the photographic evidence, suggested that the injuries were, more than likely, superficial and that now, some weeks later, full healing would have taken place. This was a lapse on the part of the lawyer because the magistrate then asked Jacob Neill to bare his back. Full healing had most certainly not taken place. Despite the best attentions of old Mrs Sykes, twisted, corded and still-livid flesh provided a ghastly map of the course of the events of that night.

  Darcy Pearson’s lawyer later asked Dr James McGregor whether, in his expert opinion, Jacob Neill could be a bleeder. The doctor said that he presumed the lawyer meant someone who bled profusely. The lawyer said that he considered it possible that Neill could well carry a similar genetic condition to that reputed to have been passed down to her descendants by Her late Royal Highness, Princess Beatrice of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Dr McGregor said that to the best of his knowledge there was no connection between Jacob Neill and the late Princess—either by blood or medically.

  The magistrate told Pearson’s lawyer to stick to the point.

  The only emotion shown by Jacob Neill came when the magistrate sent Darcy Pearson to borstal. He looked directly at the one who had caused him such agony and smiled broadly at his white-faced and trembling assailant.

  There were those outside the court afterwards, mainly townsfolk, who patted Jake on the shoulder, gently, and said words like, ‘Well done,’ or ‘Now you can put that behind you, laddie.’

  But there were others, supporters of the Pearsons, fellow farmers and one or two largish young men who looked a bit like Gary Miller, who were in no way supportive of the victim.

  ‘Gonna come out here, he’s gotta learn to take his medicine.’

  ‘Sad day when a bloke can’t tell his worker what to do.’

  ‘Decent folk, the Pearsons. Salt of the earth, for all old Clarrie can knock a few back.’

  ‘Little pommie bastard.’

  ‘He’ll get sorted. Wouldn’t want to be in his shoes when Darce gets out.’

  ‘Thought he lost his shoes strugglin’ through the swamp!’ Laughter.

  ‘Good for nothing pom. Can’t take a bit of a laugh. Remember that calf we set on poor old Georgie, night before his wedding? Never had much to say about his wedding night, old Georgie.’ More laughter.

  ‘Old Darce, one of the best blokes I’ve ever played footie with. Good man to have on your side. Poor old Darce won’t be gettin’ much footie for a while. Team needs a bloke with a strong right arm!’ Even more laughter.

  ‘Come on, we’ll go and sit down by old Mac’s lily pond and throw stones at frogs and you can forget all about it,’ said Robert Te Huia. They left the adults up at the house, talking through the events of the day, and lay in the warm sun of late afternoon. There were no frogs. ‘You can’t let it worry you any more. It’s done. They put him away.’

  ‘He’ll get out.’

  ‘You mean escape?’

  ‘No. He can only be there two years at the very most.’

  ‘Seems like a helluva long time to me,’ said Robert. He looked at Jake. ‘You got a lot of things to look forward to now. We’re goin’ to the city with old Molly. Then there’s Christmas, the holidays and then you’ve got school.’

  ‘Don’t want to go to school any more,’ said Jake.

  ‘Oh, yeah? Since when?’

  ‘Since this afternoon,’ said Jake. ‘I’ll just stay here and do my work for Dr Mac.’

  ‘Oh, yeah. You mean hide?’

  ‘Can’t hide doing these lawns. They’re big as a bloody park.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  They lay, side by side, face down in the sun. The warmth of the sun was bliss on Jake’s back and, slowly, his mood lightened. ‘You heard the things they were saying when we got out of the court. I know why. I’m the outsider and I got one of them in trouble. As I see it, they’ll make me pay.’

  ‘Forget them. Those ones mouthing off outside the court, most of ‘em aren’t from here in town,’ said Robert, patiently. ‘Just sometimes, it’s like it’s two different places. It’s the rich ones have the land and the farms and the cows, the sheep. You know, there’s only one rich one here in town. Reckon you know who that is! None of that lo
t mouthing-off even go to our school.’

  ‘They’d have kids who did, or brothers, or something.’

  ‘Yeah. But just one or two. Mainly the farm-worker kids. The farm-owner kids get sent away to school because of two things,’ said Robert.

  ‘What two things?’

  ‘They think it’s better,’ he grinned. ‘And it wouldn’t be hard for anywhere else to be better than Weatherley District High School. I dunno what you think our school is like. It’s just a little place with about fifty kids in the secondary department. If it makes you feel any better, I’m the biggest one there.’ He grinned some more.

  ‘What’s the other reason.’

  ‘They’re so bloody dumb their parents hide ‘em away so’s no one else will ever find out. They’re so dumb they go straight from school to the loony bin.’

  ‘The loony bin?’

  ‘The mad house. The mental hospital.’

  Jake laughed. ‘Now I know you’re joking.’

  ‘Yeah. Well it made you laugh, eh? Quick! There’s a frog. Get it!’

  ‘No,’ said Jake. ‘Leave it alone. It’s not doing you any harm.’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ said Robert, firing a stone and missing.

  ‘You want to bash me up and kill frogs. You’re the same as Darcy Pearson.’

  ‘Comes from growin’ up round here. Let’s have a smoke. I find that in moments of great stress it helps your nerves. Mind you, if my mum caught me, then I’d really be in great stress.’

  ‘I think I’d like to meet your mum. You terrified of her?’

  ‘Hell, yes. You’d be, too, if she was your mother,’ said Robert, feelingly. ‘Here I am. Grown up. I’m fifteen! And she still scares the wits out of me.’

  ‘I think she might be the only person who does,’ said Jake.

  ‘No. Dr Mac does, too. Just I never let him see it. It’s better for him that way.’

  ‘Tell me more about the school. Would we be in the same class?’ Jake asked.

  ‘I dunno how dumb you are, do I?’

  ‘Are you a genius?’

  ‘Yes,’ Robert smoked. ‘Depends on what old Baldy Brass-arse says when Dr Mac brings you along. He’s the boss. That’s not his real name.’

  ‘Oh, isn’t it?’

  Robert grinned at him. ‘Don’t get clever with me, Pommie. I’ll be in the fifth form. I’m doing School Cert next year. There’s only about five of us and I think old Baldy just might put you in there, too, even if you are a bit younger. Or he might put you with the fourth form. Who knows? I’ll have a word with him if you like. Takes my word for everything, and my advice, does old Baldy,’ he was grinning more broadly.

  ‘Probably because you’ve said you’ll bash him up, too, if he doesn’t.’

  ‘You’ve got it,’ said Robert. ‘You’re gettin’ to know me.’

  ‘Yes, well, Mrs Henderson told me that given half a chance you’d run the town.’

  ‘Given half a chance? Wait till I see her! I run it already,’ he picked up a stone, fired it at a lily-pad. ‘Gotcha! Got that one.’

  ‘No you didn’t.’

  ‘Not the bloody frog. I got the flower,’ said Robert. He turned on his side and faced Jake. ‘You feel a bit better now?’

  ‘Why do you want to be friendly with me?

  ‘God Almighty, you ask odd questions. Why? I dunno. Look, mate, remember I just told you there would be four or five of us in the fifth form? Well, the other four are all girls—and you should see them! It’s just about all boys in the fourth form—and you should see them, too! As my mum says, any port in a storm. You, Pommie Jake, are a gift from the gods.’

  ‘Never been called that before,’ said Jake, now smiling.

  ‘Well don’t get used to it. I won’t be sayin’ it again,’ said Robert.

  In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Jake found his life settling into a routine. As his strength returned he took on those jobs around the place he knew James McGregor wanted him to do. After milking a herd of cows, it was easy. He enjoyed his work—the lawns, weeding the gardens, raking the gravel of the driveway into a variety of patterns. A quick learner. The old man only had to tell him anything once and it was done, neatly, and precisely in the way he’d been shown. He continued to help Molly around the house, cleaning windows and, as he grew fitter, scaling up a ladder to hang the new curtains that arrived from the city. Indeed, anything he was asked to do, he did. Quick, willing, efficient.

  The trip to the city came and went, and Jake’s wardrobe expanded.

  Two other things happened that made Jake think he was living a dream. ‘Mac says you can have whatever room you like, love, but it’s time to move out of the little one near the surgery. He uses that occasionally if anyone needs a bed in a hurry.’

  ‘Like me, or like someone having a baby?’ Jake asked.

  ‘It’s been known,’ she smiled. ‘You can have any of the ones upstairs or you can have the little one out behind the kitchen. Take my advice and…’

  ‘I’ll have the little one,’ said Jake, firmly.

  ‘Well, that was my advice, had you given me half a chance. It’s snug and warm and cosy in winter and it’s got that nice French-door out into the garden, looking over the pond. Nice and private and got its own lavatory and a basin. Let’s go and sort it out. Can’t remember when it was last used.’

  It might be a little room to these people but it was almost as big and twice as grand as the home in Coventry where he’d grown up—and shared with his mother, father and baby sister! ‘It’s as big and grand as Buckingham Palace,’ he grinned at Molly.

  ‘If you say so,’ she laughed.

  ‘Nearly as big as our whole house at home,’ he said.

  ‘And what was that like, love? Your old home?’ she bustled about the room, pushing boxes aside and opening up windows.

  ‘It’s gone now,’ he said, quietly. ‘It’s gone…it went…it was early one…we got out…’

  ‘There’s no need, Jake…Silly old me, I should have thought,’ said Molly, moving towards Jake as if to take the boy in her arms.’

  Jake smiled, but moved away from her slightly, ‘There’s no need,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t much of a house. Not really. It’s not…it wasn’t where my mum was…it’s all right. You know what I remember about it most?’

  ‘No need to say anything if you don’t want to,’ said Molly.

  ‘The big table we had. Big, big table. Took up a lot of room. My dad had made it strong, see. Put steel bits all underneath…’

  ‘Oh, yes. Why was that?’

  ‘For when we didn’t have time to get out and run to the shelter. The sound…I always remember the sound. Sort of whistly wee sick windy sound in the air, and my dad’s ears were so good. He’d always hear them. Then it wasn’t a whistle any more, just a sort of waiting nothing, and then somewhere outside Boom! And noise, so much noise. Noise and smell and quite often, the smoke…Bloody old Jerry again, eh? And me and Janny and Mum and Dad under the table. Me and Janny would be thrown under, just chucked under, it hurt sometimes and Janny howling her head off, me, too. Just thrown under and Mum and Dad in on top. Not every day…’

  ‘That’s enough, love,’ said Molly.

  Jake’s hand came up to his mouth to cover his nervous giggle. ‘Then, when it was all over, we’d be dragged out, and you know what?’

  Molly looked at him, and smiled slightly, ‘Tell me, lad, and then let that be an end to it. I’m sorry I…‘

  ‘When we got out, Janny and me, Mum would often, nearly always, whack us both,’ he rubbed his bottom. ‘Hard, too, she’d lay into us. What do you think of that, eh?’ But he didn’t give Molly a chance to reply. ‘Not that long ago I suddenly sort of knew why she did it. I realised why.’

  ‘Time for a cuppa,’ said Molly Henderson. ‘Yes, indeed.’

  ‘Better get things on a business-like footing, lad,’ said James McGregor, after dinner one night. ‘You’re doing well in more ways than I care to mention. Knew I hadn�
�t made a mistake, regardless of what the old biddies told me.’

  ‘What did the old biddies tell you?’

  ‘None of your business. Here,’ and he took a ten-shilling note from his pocket and handed it to Jake. ‘You’ve earned it.’

  ‘I can’t take your money…you look after me and I don’t need the money…‘

  ‘You’ll take it, if I say so. You’ve earned it several times over. Not scared of hard work and not a moment of complaint, and no one knows better than I do that your bloody back is still not fully better, still plays merry hell. Sit down!’ An order.

  ‘Um…‘ Jake sat.

  ‘Listen, boy, and stop interrupting me. You live here by my choice. I keep you. I will see that you’re educated to the best of that damn school’s ability. I will feed you and clothe you, but you are not my slave. If I choose to pay you on top of anything else, that is my decision. What you do with what you earn, that’s up to you. Spend it, if you will. Spend some, save some. Save the lot. We’ll open a bank account for you. You’ll need money for your future.’

  ‘That was a long speech,’ said Jake. ‘Thank you.’ He took the ten shillings. ‘There’s no need to give me any more.’

  ‘You stupid little bugger. You’ll get that much once a week.’

  ‘I knew that,’ said Jake, grinning.

  ‘You’re spending too much time with that wretched Robert. Learning his wicked ways.’ The doctor smiled back at him. ‘Take my advice and get your money in the bank otherwise it’ll all be going down the drain on fast women and booze.’

  Jake laughed. ‘I know where you get the booze around here but I haven’t seen any fast women. They’re all very slow, like Mrs Henderson.’

  ‘I’ll tell her you said that,’ said James McGregor. ‘Now, I don’t want you falling out of your skin with gratitude or telling me you can’t possibly take it, but I’ve got you a bicycle. Call it your Christmas present if it makes you feel better. Handy for running errands, and you’ll need it for school.’