by Di Morrissey
Cindy shook her head in amazement. ‘But it sounds such a risky thing to do,’ she said, thinking of how Lawrence might have reacted if he’d found out.
‘I must stress that I don’t know if it was true. And you have to remember that those times were a bit chaotic. Lawrence was away quite a lot as part of the war effort and there were more than a million Yanks in the country at the time. A lot of men around here didn’t like the Americans at all. They thought they had too much money and used it to take Australian women away from the locals. “Overpaid, oversexed and over here” was what they used to say about them. There was a lot of bitterness, and everyone had heard about the woman from Wagga Wagga who’d recently left her husband to go off with an American serviceman.’ Ngaire took a bite of cake and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. ‘I suppose that it was quite possible for Rose to have become involved with someone she’d met through the Red Cross, and in my opinion, she could just as easily have been involved with an Australian soldier. Either way, why she would want to do that I have no idea. Maybe she was sick of living in the country and wanted to get away? I sometimes got the impression that she didn’t like it here, but I could have been wrong. As I said, she was not the sort of woman to say much. But, wherever she went, she covered her tracks very well. Evidently she didn’t even contact her sister in Sydney. The police looked for her, but it was wartime and their resources were limited, and they couldn’t find any clues as to where she went. The case was never closed and, as far as I am aware, she remains a missing person. Poor Lawrence. I remember how upset, angry and embarrassed he was. He demanded that their joint bank account be closed and he asked Alistair to stop the local news people writing about it.’
Cindy leaned back in her chair, taking it all in. ‘So Rose really did disappear for good.’ She tapped a finger against her chin. ‘I’d forgotten that Murray had an aunt in Sydney. He mentioned her when we first met, but we haven’t spoken about her since then,’ she said, suddenly reminded of a conversation she’d had with Murray back in Palm Springs.
Ngaire nodded as she leaned forward and took the lid off the teapot, peering in.
‘I think this tea has stewed. Would you like another cup?’ she asked.
Cindy glanced at her watch. ‘Thank you, Ngaire, but I had best get back to Murray and the kids. The twins will be home from school soon and I don’t like to leave them too long by themselves. I never know what mischief they are likely to get up to,’ Cindy said with a smile. The two women rose from the table and walked down the hall to the front door. ‘I’ve had a lovely lunch and thank you for my plant cuttings and for telling me about Rose. How odd if she really did run off with an American. It would seem that the Parnells rather like them.’ And that, Cindy thought privately, might explain why Lawrence did not.
Ngaire laughed as she walked her visitor to the car. ‘So it would seem. I hope you will visit me again soon. It’s nice to talk with someone who has progressive ideas.’
*
As soon as Cindy pulled up in the driveway of the big house, Russell came running to see her. She hugged him close and listened to his chatter as they went indoors about what he’d been up to while she was away. Cindy checked in on Mrs Flowers who was preparing the vegetables for dinner.
Glancing at the kitchen clock, she realised the twins would be waiting at the bus stop. Grabbing the car keys, she clattered down the steps and into the car to drive to where the school bus would let the twins off by the side of the Yamboola road.
Sally and Gordon were full of noisy questions and demands, and each had homework and chores to do, so that Cindy was kept occupied until she’d put the three children to bed. After dinner, Joanna rang and the two friends spoke for some time, sharing news and chatter. After she hung up, Cindy went and found Murray and Lawrence in the sitting room. Lawrence was buried behind The Land newspaper, while Murray was watching a show on television. Cindy took a seat on the armrest of her husband’s armchair and waited for an ad break.
‘What are your plans for the end of the month?’ Cindy asked Murray a few moments later.
Murray stretched and yawned. ‘We want to fertilise the north paddock, which means we’ll have to move the sheep out of it. We need feed for next season. And while the sheep are out of the north paddock, I can see to the fences there. I think they might need some repairs. Dad is thinking of buying more stock while the wool price stays so good, so we’ll have to go to the sales. Why?’
‘Joanna is taking Sheree to Sydney to see her grandmother for her sixtieth birthday and will be going to the zoo and doing a few fun things like that. She’s asked us all to go too, especially as Sheree and Russell get on so well.’
‘Doubt I can make it, with all we’ve got planned. Why don’t you and the children go? You’ll have a much better time without me around anyway. I think I’d get in the way,’ said Murray with a crooked smile.
Cindy patted his shoulder. ‘That’s not true, but it sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate.’ Cindy felt pleased. It was a shame Murray couldn’t come, but it was a trip she was already looking forward to. ‘Fancy a cup of tea?’ she asked light-heartedly. ‘Can I get you one, too?’ she asked Lawrence.
Lawrence looked up from his newspaper and then carefully folded it.
‘Thank you, no,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘I’m getting an early night. Some of us need to get up at the crack of dawn because we have to work for a living, not take frivolous holidays.’ With that, he stalked out of the room and made his way towards his bedroom.
‘If that offer still stands, I’ll have a cup of tea,’ said Murray, looking at Cindy with a smile and a small shrug of his shoulders. ‘I’ll help you make it.’
They walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on.
‘Honestly, Murray, I do my best with your father, but there is no pleasing him,’ said Cindy in an exasperated voice. ‘And it’s not as though I spend my life being frivolous, I work hard around here, too.’
Murray held up a pacifying hand. ‘I’ll speak to him in the morning and tell him that you’re entitled to take the kids to Sydney and that you are going to do just that. Easy for me to tell you to take no notice of what Dad says, but I know he can be difficult.’ The kettle whistled and Cindy poured hot water into a waiting teapot. Murray took her hand reassuringly in his. ‘Cindy, always remember that I’m on your side. Besides, it’s not as though Dad does everything he should around here. He talks about working hard, but sometimes it’s impossible to get him to do some of the things that really need to be taken care of.’
‘Like what?’ said Cindy, surprised. It was very unlike Murray to be critical of his father’s work ethic.
‘Well, I want to get rid of the blackberries that have grown up around parts of the property. But Dad still hasn’t got around to it.’
‘I can’t get close to that old peppercorn tree near the creek any more because the blackberries are so thick,’ said Cindy, pouring the tea into two teacups and handing one to her husband, thinking sadly about the little memorial to her lost child that she had buried all those years ago. After sipping a mouthful of her tea, she asked, ‘So you’re fine if I take the kids off to Sydney?’
‘Of course,’ said Murray, blowing on his tea.
Cindy paused. ‘Murray, I was thinking.’ She took another sip of tea. ‘When I was talking to Ngaire today, she mentioned your aunt in Sydney. You told me about her when we first met, but I’d forgotten all about her. Maybe I could look her up while I’m there,’ said Cindy tentatively.
‘Why would you want to do that?’ asked Murray, looking at her sharply. ‘I haven’t thought about Aunt Marie in a long time.’
‘I was thinking of the children. If they have a great-aunt living in Sydney, it would be nice for them to connect with her. They have so little family.’ She put down her tea cup and reached over and touched his hand. ‘They loved meeting their Aunt Alice, so I think it wo
uld be good for them if they could meet some of their relations here in Australia.’
‘I suppose that’s true,’ said Murray slowly, as he processed the idea. ‘How will you find her?’
‘For a start, do you remember her surname?’ asked Cindy.
‘It’s Williams but I have no idea where she lives. Somewhere in Sydney is all I know. I could ask Dad if he remembers it?’
Cindy pursed her lips. ‘Don’t bother. Maybe Ngaire might know. She seems to know everything else,’ she suggested.
‘What if Aunt Marie’s moved? What if she doesn’t want to see you?’
‘For heaven’s sake, Murray, I don’t know, but it would be nice to at least try to find her,’ said Cindy, rolling her eyes.
Murray nodded. ‘You’re right. See what you can do. It would be good for the kids to know that they have relatives closer than Palm Springs,’ said Murray, smiling at his wife.
‘Are we going to say anything to your father about trying to locate your aunt?’ said Cindy.
‘I don’t think we need to stir up that hornet’s nest, especially if nothing comes of it,’ Murray said quickly, fidgeting.
‘Yes, I agree. Best not to give him any more ammunition,’ said Cindy. Murray was on her side, but he still became so uncomfortable at the thought of upsetting his father. ‘And besides, like you say, she may have moved or might not want to be visited. I’ll just see how I go.’
She patted his hand reassuringly and then took their empty tea cups over to the sink. Murray kissed her lightly and left the room to get ready for bed. As she rinsed the tea cups and patted them dry, Cindy smiled to herself. She had demurred for Murray’s sake, but privately she vowed she would find Aunt Marie. How hard could it be?
*
Cindy was as thrilled as the three children when they arrived in Sydney. It had been a long and exhausting drive for the four of them. They checked into a new motel in the pleasant suburb of Chatswood, which was close to Jo’s mother, Suzanne.
Suzanne Bright was as cheerful as her name. She welcomed them all for meals and offered to mind the children and to take them to the movies if Jo and Cindy wanted an outing to themselves.
The two friends tried to cram as much as they could into the two-week holiday. They visited Taronga Park Zoo, with its exotic animals and spectacular views of the harbour, which they crossed a few days later on the ferry to Manly. At Gordon’s insistence, they visited Luna Park. Sheree and Russell were too young for a lot of the rides, but between the merry-go-round and dropping ping-pong balls into the gaping mouths of painted clown faces, they were well entertained. Sally was delighted when she won a small soft toy. They all shared great puffballs of fairy floss on sticks, as well as hot dogs. The twins insisted on going on the roller-coaster and so Cindy went along, too, all three of them screaming with fear and excitement, and everyone agreed they’d had the very best time.
They took the train over the Harbour Bridge to visit the newly opened Sydney Opera House. Both Cindy and Jo were impressed by the building’s beautiful sails, which seemed to billow out over the water, their white tiles dazzling in the sunlight, while the four children raced up and down the long flight of stairs leading to the entrance. From the Opera House they walked around to the Botanic Gardens and had a picnic lunch before lying on the grass in the glorious sunshine.
Best of all, as far as Cindy was concerned, was the day they took the children to Freshwater Beach after a trip on the Manly ferry. Once they had overcome the challenge of the surf, the children could not get enough of jumping over the waves and trying to catch the foamy breakers.
‘It’s a bit different from a pool or swimming in a river, isn’t it, guys?’ said Cindy, laughing in delight. ‘I haven’t done anything like this since I left Santa Barbara. I’d nearly forgotten how much fun the beach can be.’
‘I love the beach, too. You can’t be a Sydney girl and not love the surf,’ agreed Joanna. ‘I miss it, living in the country.’
Mrs Bright’s birthday bash, as Jo called her mother’s sixtieth birthday, was as Suzanne had wanted: an afternoon barbecue in the backyard of her home. ‘I’m so grateful that I’m still here to be able to enjoy this with good friends and family. I don’t want anything more,’ she said happily, and Cindy recalled the health scare Suzanne had had several years ago, which had temporarily brought Jo back to Sydney.
As the two friends sat side by side, watching their children run around the garden with the children of Jo’s friends and relatives, Cindy said quietly to her friend, ‘I’m so glad I came. My children have loved being here. They adore your mother. I wish they had a grandmother they could visit, too.’
‘Have you thought more about finding Murray’s aunt?’ asked Jo.
Cindy drew a breath. ‘I have her name and an old address which Ngaire managed to find. It’s a street in Randwick. I looked up the number in the phone book and rang a couple of times to arrange a meeting, but there was no answer. It’s a shame I haven’t been able to see her and we’ve only got a day of our holiday left.’
‘Well, we haven’t got any plans tomorrow. We could always just drop in?’ suggested Jo.
Cindy made a face. ‘That’s a bit rude, isn’t it?’ she said.
Jo shrugged.
‘I’ll try calling her one more time,’ Cindy said, getting up and going to the phone in the main hallway. But once again the number rang out. Cindy returned to Jo shaking her head.
‘Well, we haven’t got any plans, why don’t we just go to Randwick tomorrow?’ said Jo enthusiastically.
Cindy nodded. ‘I think that’s our only shot at meeting her. What will we do with the children?’
‘Do you want to bring all your kids or leave them with Mum? I’ll leave Sheree with her and drive you over.
I can hardly expect you to find Randwick on your own. It’s right across town.’
‘I might leave Russell with her, too, if you don’t think she’ll mind, but I think the twins should come in case we do manage to find her. She is their great-aunt, even if she has no idea Sally and Gordon exist. It’s all quite exciting, isn’t it?’ Cindy said, with a laugh. ‘Fingers crossed Marie is home tomorrow.’
*
The house in Randwick was a substantial red-brick home set behind a neat hedge. The house itself was well kept, although the windows were closed and the curtains drawn.
‘There’s no one there, can’t we go?’ sighed Gordon as the four of them stood on the street outside the gate.
‘Dare you to knock on the door,’ said Sally.
‘All right, I will.’ Gordon started up the path.
‘Wait a minute,’ said Cindy. She looked around. The street was quiet, and lined with mature trees and similar red-brick houses. Beside the gate and attached to the fence was an old letterbox. Cindy paused and opened it.
‘Mummy, what are you doing?’ asked Sally, horrified that her mother would look inside someone else’s letterbox.
‘It’s all right, darling. I’m just checking something,’ said Cindy reassuringly. She pulled out two letters. One looked to be some sort of circular, but the other had an address clearly printed on it.
‘What’s it say?’ hissed Jo.
‘Mrs M. Williams,’ said Cindy triumphantly. ‘It is the right place. You lot wait here a moment.’
Returning the mail to the letterbox, she hurried through the gate and along the path and up several steps to the front door, followed by Gordon. Jo and Sally stayed on the street by the car.
Cindy lifted the tarnished brass door knocker and banged it twice.
They waited, Gordon shifting his weight from foot to foot.
‘See. No one’s here, Mum,’ he said.
‘It’s a big house, she could be hard of hearing,’ said Cindy. ‘Okay, I’ll try once more, just in case.’
The knocker banged again. Gordon was just about to turn away i
n disappointment when they heard the rattle of the latch. He turned swiftly back in surprise as the door opened.
An attractive, well-dressed woman with bright eyes and an inquiring smile looked out at them.
‘Oh, I thought you might be the new cleaning girl, but obviously you’re not. Are you lost? How can I help?’ She looked at Gordon. ‘Oh, are you a Boy Scout looking for a job? Aren’t you supposed to wear your uniform?’
‘No, no, we’re not any of those things,’ said Cindy hastily, reaching to draw Gordon close beside her. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for Mrs Marie Williams.’
To her astonishment, the woman beamed, spread her arms wide, and gave a small curtsy. ‘That’s me! I’m Marie Williams. And who are you, young man?’ she asked Gordon.
Gordon was slightly taken aback but, remembering his manners, held out his hand. ‘How do you do. I’m Gordon Parnell.’
The smile momentarily slipped from Marie Williams’s face and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Parnell? From Yamboola?’ She stared at Cindy, as fleeting expressions of shock, eagerness and hope skimmed across her face. ‘Rose’s Parnells?’
Cindy nodded. ‘I’m sorry to just turn up like this, unannounced, but I did try to ring you and I really wanted to meet you before we go back home. My name is Cindy Parnell, I’m Murray Parnell’s wife. This is his son, Gordon. Your great-nephew.’
Marie stared at her. ‘Murray married and with children? Yes, I suppose he would be. And you … please, please come inside, off the doorstep. This is a shock, well, a lovely surprise. This way.’
‘I have a friend and my daughter waiting outside, may they come in too?’ asked Cindy.
‘Good heavens, there’s more!’ said Marie, glancing over Gordon’s shoulder towards the gate. ‘How wonderful. Yes, yes. Young man, go and bring them inside. We’ll put the kettle on.’
As Gordon hurried back down the steps, Marie and Cindy stared at each other for a moment.
‘Come in, come in,’ said Marie, inviting Cindy into the lobby.
