She was expecting a promotion she knew she deserved that would make her the first non-family female to become the manager of any hotel in NSW. As she completed one task after another she rehearsed the speech she would make after the promotion was announced.
There was a visitor for Dixon at Reception. It was a journalist from the Woman’s Monthly who wanted to write an article about her. About how she had transformed the Waratah from a basic watering hole into a comfortable hotel and become a legend herself in the meantime, rumoured to be about to make history. The dead aristocratic fiancé and the pieces of fine jewellery he had given her before he left for the front would add glamour and pathos to the story.
Dixon agreed to give an interview and be photographed provided they didn’t mention the promotion as it hadn’t been made official yet.
If only the Matron from the orphanage and Manus, Miss East and Teresa Kelly could see me now, she thought as she posed, making sure her best features were facing the camera.
54
Dublin
1939
Edwina’s orchestration of the matrimonial merger was swift and thorough. In exchange for the wedding taking place at such short notice and in a Catholic church (though at a side altar and not the main one) plus a promise that all their children would be reared as Catholics – even Edwina couldn’t make the parish priest back down on that one – Lochlann agreed to accept the post in Australia. With Niamh lost to him, Siberia or the Arctic would have done just as well.
The night before the wedding Lochlann wrote a long letter to Niamh and entrusted it to Iseult to give her when she returned from Egypt in three days’ time. Iseult dreaded that task almost as much as she dreaded attending the wedding.
“This is the last time we’ll talk like this,” Lochlann said to his sister.
How he would live without Niamh he didn’t know. As best he could, he supposed, now that there was no option. At least he had a profession he loved and would soon have a child of his own – there were a lot of people worse off.
He wanted to put on a good front for his parents’ sake.
The two embraced in sorrow, before parting to prepare for the ordeal.
Iseult felt so ill on the morning of the wedding that she asked her father for some calming medicine to help her cope with the farcical ceremony she would give anything not to have to attend.
The mother refused anything, in case she might be needed.
The father was filled with an awful hopelessness at being forced to witness the procedure as if it were a normal occasion. Try as he might, he couldn’t blame Charlotte for insisting on the marriage – it was her right to give her child a father and a name. He could only lament the unfortunate background to it, and his son’s part in it.
Edwina didn’t even tell Waldron about the wedding, and Verity was sent off to Tyringham Park for the week to get her out of the way. Only the Carmodys were in the pews, with Edwina in her wheelchair alongside, when the silent, unsmiling Harcourt supported an unsteady, weakened Charlotte into the little side chapel. Charlotte kept her head down when she reached Lochlann’s side. She was heard to say “I’m sorry.” Lochlann didn’t turn to look at her and didn’t acknowledge the apology.
While they said their vows Charlotte felt the presence of the absent Niamh and shivered. Lochlann turned to look towards the door as if expecting a late arrival.
After the ceremony Edwina beckoned to Charlotte and indicated that she should wait until the others had left the side chapel. Charlotte sat in a pew beside the wheelchair and waited.
She’s going to tell me I look nice and that Lochlann is a worthy addition to the family, she thought.
Edwina drummed her fingers on the arm of the wheelchair. “I want to make two things clear before I give you your tickets, so listen carefully and don’t tell me later that you made a mistake because you didn’t hear what I said. Are you concentrating?”
Charlotte nodded.
“Under no circumstances are you to write to me when the baby is born. Let five months elapse before you do.”
“Then how will you know about it?”
“I am quite capable of restraining my curiosity for five months. I’ve made it easy for you to remember. A year to the day from today – you’ll hardly forget your first anniversary. I don’t want to risk anyone knowing the real date of birth and turning me into an object of ridicule.”
“But all Lochlann’s family and friends know the circumstances, and they will be informed.”
“That is hardly a consideration to me seeing their paths and ours are unlikely to cross ever again. I made it clear that there will be no social contact between the two families from this day forward.” Edwina’s face twisted in a grimace of unholy triumph. “I think I can say with certainty they won’t talk out of turn after what I’ve said – well, ‘threatened’ might be a more accurate word. No need for you to know the details. You can thank me for knowing how to save the family honour.”
Charlotte was filled with cold displeasure at her mother's attitude and had no inclination to thank her.
“So you don’t even want me to write privately to you?” she asked.
“No. Decidedly not. Verity collects the post every day and she’s likely to steam open your letter, she’s so desperate to know what doesn’t concern her. There’s been talk. The fact that you’ll be abroad and they won’t be able to count the months is frustrating the gossips and Verity would love to claim her moment of glory by uncovering the truth and spreading the word. She’s far too weak to keep a secret and your father can’t be trusted to keep his mouth shut when he’s drinking, so Harcourt and I are the only ones who know. Unless you’ve been talking.”
“Of course not. Why would I? What’s the second thing?”
“I want you to find your sister. That is why I picked Australia for your exile. I would do it myself if it weren’t for this accursed wheelchair. I would have travelled there twenty years ago if the accident hadn’t happened – Beatrice and I had it all arranged. As you know, I have made some attempts to advertise in Australia – to no avail – and I hired that private detective who did nothing but pocket my money I suspect, apart from verifying that a Teresa Kelly arrived in Australia. But it’s a common name. He could not confirm that Dixon arrived, for lack of a first name, though several female Dixons entered the country around the time. And so I have to rely on you to find Teresa Kelly and Victoria for me – or, failing that, Nurse Dixon. It is my belief that they are together.”
“I won’t waste my time.” Charlotte’s disappointment at her mother's attitude to the baby cancelled the usual caution she adopted when speaking to her. “I never believed Teresa Kelly took Victoria, nor did anyone else except you – she would never have done anything so selfish.”
“I’ll thank you not to use that tone of voice with me. How would you have the faintest idea what that woman would do? You were a mere child at the time she was at the Park.”
Charlotte stiffened. “I have to go. They’ll be waiting outside. Harcourt is ready to take us to the train. We can’t afford to delay as we might miss our later connections. Is there anything else you want to say to me before I go?”
“Just remember who you are and where you come from. Now take these.”
Charlotte accepted the tickets her mother held out to her and thought it only fair to thank her for being so efficient at organising the wedding.
“Think nothing of it. Have a good trip.” Edwina remained rigid as if to stave off any last-minute show of affection. “I’ll stay on here until you’ve gone.”
“Goodbye, Mother.” Charlotte’s mind blanked when she tried to think of something significant to say. To cover the awkward moment she flicked through the tickets and looked at the itinerary – Cobh, Southampton, Canary Islands, Capetown. “This says our destination is Capetown. Why are we going to Capetown?”
“Because of the short notice that was the nearest destination I could find. Cooks assured me you won’t have any trouble s
ecuring a passage between there and Sydney.”
Charlotte’s eye came to the last entry: Return – Void.
“But these are only one-way tickets.” She looked at her mother in disbelief.
“Yes?”
“I thought a couple of years – three at most – would be sufficient.”
“Do you personally know anyone who has returned from Australia? Now off you go and remember everything I’ve said. I’ll send you your instructions in the post.”
Lochlann was standing with his family in the graveyard beside the church. He didn’t seem to notice when Charlotte joined them and clutched his arm with too much force. His solemn expression made him look even more handsome than usual, but older.
“I’ve said my goodbyes,” he said in a flat voice. “I told them we would slip off without any fuss.” There had been no wedding breakfast arranged by the Blackshaws.
The pair followed an equally serious Harcourt, who had kept his word about not speaking to Charlotte. Lochlann looked back at the last minute and raised his hand in a gesture of farewell to his mother, father and Iseult, but they had already started to walk off with their heads lowered and didn’t see him.
Part 4
THE EXILE
55
Australia
1939
Scottie Cunningham guessed who the two strangers on the platform were when he arrived to collect the mailbags. He was looking forward to hearing their story, which by the look of them, would be no ordinary one.
The overdressed woman was flushed and damp from the heat. Looking as if she was about to pass out at any minute, she was leaning against the paling fence in the shade, her eyes closed. Her companion, who must be her husband though he looked too young for the role, was trying to keep the flies away from her face with the vigorous flapping of a folded newspaper. If their clothes and luggage didn’t already signal them as newcomers, that action with the newspaper did – give them a few weeks and they would be taking the presence of flies for granted. If the woman removed her tweed jacket and undid the buttons on the high neck of her blouse she would be less likely to be suffering from heat exhaustion. It made Scottie, in his shorts and singlet, feel uncomfortable just to look at her.
The stranger checked that the woman beside him was in a comfortable position, before coming forward with his hand outstretched to meet the mailman.
“Scottie Cunningham?”
“That’s right, mate. I was just about to make myself known. You the new doctor?”
“I am. Lochlann Carmody. How did you guess?”
“We’ve been expecting you.” He grinned. “Plus your accent.”
“The stationmaster said you would be able to give us a lift.”
“Happy to oblige. The lady feeling crook?”
Lochlann hadn’t heard ‘crook’ before but guessed what it meant.
“She is. She’s prone to travel sickness. The boat trip over was a nightmare for her and the twelve-hour train trip from Sydney didn’t help. Couldn’t sleep.”
“She’ll be as right as rain once we get her up the mountain where it is cooler. Talking to Matron only yesterday. She said she’d send someone down to meet you if she had any idea when you were due to arrive.”
“We had no idea ourselves. No one seems to have heard of Redmundo and we didn’t have a clue.”
“We’re a bit off the beaten track, all right, but that’s how we like it. Greatest little place on earth.”
The men heard a moaning sound and looked over to see Charlotte slipping sideways. Lochlann was by her side in a second and eased her back into a sitting position.
When Scottie was introduced to Charlotte and heard her plummy accent he was convinced that their story wouldn’t be a straightforward one. His wife Jean would be dying to be the first to know. He was confident he would find out during the next few hours – it was amazing how much people would tell you in the intimacy of the cabin of a truck that they would never divulge under ordinary circumstances.
“Has your wife anything lighter to put on before we start?” Scottie asked Lochlann in a low voice.
“I beg your pardon,” said Charlotte, overhearing. She pulled her jacket more tightly around her.
“No offence, Mrs Carmody. Take advice from an old hand. I’ve seen a few in my day become crook from wearing wool in this climate. Especially black wool – it absorbs the heat. The consequences can be serious. Even you mightn’t know that, Doc, being new. We can’t afford to stand on ceremony here.”
“So I see.” Charlotte, who had learnt from her father how important it was that British colonisers wear formal dress even in the tropics to demonstrate the superiority of their civilisation to the natives, wasn’t about to let the side down on her first day. “I am perfectly all right, thank you.”
“Have it your own way, then. Come on, I’ll give you a hand.”
The two men supported her between them. Scottie had to reach in through the window to open the passenger door as the outside handle had broken off.
“In you go,” he said, standing on the running board to get better leverage as Lochlann passed her up. He could tell by the look on Charlotte’s face she didn’t like being handled by him, but in her fragile state she didn’t have much option.
“Did you bring some Irish bullion with you?” asked Scottie, picking up one end of the trunk. “This weighs a ton.”
“No such luck,” said Lochlann, taking the other end to help lift it over the tailboard into the back. “Reference books. Thought I’d better bring the lot seeing I won’t have any colleagues to confer with.”
“You can say that again. We couldn’t even rustle up a retired doctor these last few months.” Scottie was now warming to his favourite role – introducing someone from the Old World to the hardships of the New. “Forty miles in one direction, sixty in the other before you run into one. Taking the state of the roads into account, you can double that distance. Are we glad to see you!” He fastened the tailgate with a lever on one side and a loop of barbed wire on the other, gave it a slap and beamed at Lochlann. “Rightio, then! We’re off!”
Charlotte’s face was bright red. Her blouse, soaked with perspiration, had black smuts dotted across the front of it, souvenirs from their trip on the steam train.
“The humidity’s what gets you,” said Scottie, sitting on the towel that prevented the seat from burning the backs of his bare suntanned legs. He accelerated as smoothly as the old vehicle would allow.
Lochlann, holding Charlotte with her head on his shoulder, felt the heat radiating from her and, concerned, began to slip off her jacket.
“Don’t,” she mumbled in her half-awake state, shrugging off his hand.
“Sorry, doctor’s orders,” he said, continuing with the task as if she were a child. “There, now. Isn’t that better?”
While Scottie concentrated on making a right-hand turn Charlotte rearranged her smocked maternity blouse.
They had been delayed for three months in Cape Town. England declared war on Germany the day they arrived and they had to wait their turn for a berth. Lochlann sent a telegram to Redmundo to explain his delay and was lucky to be offered a short-term post at the Cape as a locum, saving himself the embarrassment of having to wire home for funds, or worse still, having to ask Charlotte for money, something he vowed he would never do.
“I’ll only be a tick.” Scottie pulled up in front of a produce and hardware store and went in to collect goods ordered by his customers.
Charlotte stirred.
“Nearly there,” said Lochlann softly. “Go back to sleep.”
Charlotte twisted her head deeper into the hollow between his neck and shoulders, enjoying the closeness enforced on them by the limited space in the cabin despite the extra heat generated by having her body so close to his. If the journey went on for hours she would be well pleased.
“Still out for the count. That’s good,” said Scottie, re-occupying his seat and banging the door after him. “Rang the wife to ge
t your house ready. Only two more stops before the mountain.”
Now that Charlotte was in a deep sleep, Lochlann turned his attention to the countryside. Everything was in such sharp focus and the light so strong he had to squint to cope with the glare. The sky was startlingly blue: he wondered if he’d ever seen a truly blue sky before now.
“Father Daly will be pleased to have two more recruits for his congregation,” Scottie said with a question in his voice.
“Only one. My wife is Church of Ireland. Anglican.”
“Ahh.”
“And where are you from originally yourself?”
“Aberdeen. Brought here when I was two. Fifty years ago this year. Living up the mountain suits me. Couldn’t take that coastal heat for long. Daresay that applies to you as well.” He looked meaningfully at Lochlann for too long and hit the ditch. “Don’t worry, Doc,” he laughed, making a quick corrective swerve. “You’re in safe hands. I could do this trip blindfolded. My life wouldn’t be worth living if I lost the doctor on his first day. I’d be taken out and shot. Now, where was I?” To Lochlann’s relief he faced forward as he continued to talk.
They crossed a long wooden bridge over the Gillenben River that divided the flat coastal region from the mountain range.
“Wait till you get an eyeful of this,” Scottie said proudly. “Bet you won’t have seen anything like it back home. My favourite stretch of road in all the world. Not that I’ve travelled the world, but who would want to when they can live in a place like this?”
Tyringham Park Page 25
