by Di Morrissey
Cindy cocked her head. ‘A lot of people think they will. Those men who were here today are really important people. They’re in businesses like newspapers, cattle, minerals and goodness knows what else, but they’re now diversifying into wool. They wouldn’t be putting money into sheep if they didn’t think it would make them money,’ said Cindy.
Shirley didn’t look impressed. ‘Good for them, but my Perce is comfortable with how we’re getting along, now that we’re running some cattle as well as our sheep. We’re nothing as big and fancy as Kingsley Downs, but we’ve been doing good enough. Mind you, Perce will be pleased when I tell him that Lawrence won’t be selling up. Don’t like seeing too much change around here.’
*
It was almost a week before Lawrence returned from Bathurst. Murray commented that his father seemed pleased with himself and had obviously enjoyed mixing with the movers and shakers from the big end of town. But Cindy was surprised when Murray mentioned the following day that the bank manager had been out to Kingsley Downs.
‘Why do you think the bank manager was visiting?’ she asked.
‘Phil Watson and Dad get on well. It’s not the first time he’s been out to see Dad. It probably means nothing,’ replied Murray, somewhat tersely.
He made no further comment, but Cindy sensed Murray was worried. And later that evening she found him in his office, looking through some papers.
‘Paperwork? At this hour?’ she exclaimed.
‘Ah, just catching up.’
Cindy sat down by his desk. ‘What do you think he’s planning now?’
‘Who? Oh, you mean Dad … Well, I’m not privy to everything he does, Cin. He keeps telling me we’re in fine shape. Which we are. Last season we had our best year ever.’
Cindy looked at her husband. ‘But … ?’
He leaned back and gave her a small smile. ‘Read me like a book, huh?’ But then he looked concerned. ‘It’s the outlays. He’s pretty keen about extending our investment here. Expanding the size of the place if suitable land becomes available, increasing the flock.’
Cindy frowned. ‘Golly. Does Kingsley Downs have the capacity to carry more sheep?’
‘I guess so, provided the weather stays good and we don’t get another drought. My concern is that we’re in this game for the long term, and those high-flying executive types he’s mixing with are investors, looking for the quick buck. They know bugger-all about wool. They might be advised that wool is the hot thing to be in for the moment, but I think Dad is just flattered by their interest,’ said Murray ruefully.
‘So when do they get out?’
‘Hopefully before the wool stockpile blows up. There must be millions of bales of wool stashed in various places around the country.’
Cindy was stunned. ‘Millions of bales! How are they ever going to sell it off?’
‘They’re hanging on to it, building up an artificially high price. Greed, basically. Dad says they’re hoping to get to a thousand cents a kilo. You know, Cin, Australian wool producers supply more than eighty per cent of the world’s apparel wool, so where else are the overseas processors going to buy such suitable wool if they don’t buy ours? Eventually they’ll have to come around and pay the price the Wool Corp is asking. They haven’t a lot of choice.’
Cindy stood up. ‘That’s madness! Pure greed. Oh dear. Well, I hope your father doesn’t do anything silly. Try to talk to him, Murray.’
He looked at his hands. ‘I can ask questions, but that’s about it. He still holds the reins.’
‘Yes, and you’re doing all the work!’ said Cindy in frustration. She crossed her arms. ‘He rushes about in that plane big-noting himself. It’s so unlike him. He’s always been so particular about every tiny thing around Kingsley Downs. I guess it shows he trusts you to keep on top of it.’
‘He’s almost eighty years old. I don’t begrudge him enjoying himself a bit, Cin.’
‘Hmph. I think there’s more to it. I think he’s up to something with these businesspeople; he’s not the playboy type,’ said Cindy, her eyes narrowed.
Murray leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. ‘Anyway, enough of Dad. What arrangements have you made for our holiday in January for the Bicentennial celebrations? I’m really looking forward to it.’ He reached forward and pulled Cindy into his lap.
Cindy grinned. ‘I’ve found a big apartment in Neutral Bay which will comfortably fit us all, and it has great views of Sydney Harbour. So we can have all the family together to watch the celebrations. It’ll be a once in a lifetime event.’
Murray kissed her neck gently. ‘Yep. It’s going to be huge. I guess Australia only gets a two-hundredth birthday once,’ he said, releasing Cindy.
Cindy stood up and smoothed her hair. ‘I’ve been reading that the Aboriginals don’t see it that way, and I can’t blame them for being outraged. After all, the arrival of the First Fleet was the beginning of the end for their civilisation,’ she commented. ‘My American Indian friends from Palm Springs view the coming of the Europeans in exactly the same way.’
‘Well, at least the PM has quashed the idea of a re-enactment. I think that the replacement idea of having a fleet of tall ships sail up the coast and then enter the harbour sounds spectacular.’ Murray paused, frowning. ‘I have to say, though, a lot of blacks do get a raw deal and their living standards in some places are terrible, but I’m not sure about giving them their own land, at least not mine. As far as I’m concerned, no one has any right to this land but us Parnells. We’ve worked for years to develop this property, and I don’t want anyone taking it away from us,’ Murray said with some heat.
Cindy took her husband’s hand.
‘Darling, I am sure that would never happen.’
*
Two weeks later, Cindy and Murray were having morning tea in the kitchen when the phone rang. Cindy heard Murray talking to his father.
‘Yeah, righto, yes, I can hear you. Where are you? What do you mean? Ah. I see … Okay, I’ll meet you at the hayshed. What’ve you bought? Right … okay. So how long … ? See ya.’
‘What was all that about?’ Cindy broke open a warm scone.
Murray walked back in, a dumbfounded expression on his face. ‘That was Dad on the phone.’
‘I gathered that.’
‘From his damn car!’
Cindy nearly spat out her tea. ‘What?’
‘He now has a portable phone in the Jag! Said he went to the sales and he’s bought a ram.’
‘Did you know he was getting another ram? When is it coming?’ Lawrence’s behaviour was getting more and more erratic.
Murray shook his head. ‘No. I didn’t. He’s bringing it in now. Wants to acclimatise the thing in the barn. He must have someone with him who’s followed him up with it.’
‘Was it a spur-of-the-moment buy? Why does he want to put it out in the shed?’ asked Cindy. Without waiting for answers, she continued, ‘Well, you said he wanted to improve the bloodlines of Kingsley Downs, and I expect this ram is part of that.’
‘We generally do this sort of thing together,’ grumbled Murray, as he glanced at his watch. ‘He’s twenty minutes away. A car phone. What bloody next?’
*
As Murray swung into the old truck, Cindy followed him.
‘I’m coming too. I want to see this new animal. And the car phone. I bet both have cost a fortune.’
They drove past the woolshed and over to the large tin shed where hay and grain were stored. Lawrence’s Jaguar was parked to one side and he was standing beside it, looking impatient. The jackaroo roared up on his motorbike to join him.
Murray parked as Lawrence signalled to him.
‘Give us a hand,’ he called.
‘What’s up? Where’s the truck?’
‘I wasn’t leaving this fellow to some carrier.’ Lawrence started gesticulating to the jac
karoo.
‘What the hell … ?’ Murray stopped as Cindy joined him.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked.
‘Look,’ said Murray, as he moved forward to help the jackaroo.
‘Good heavens,’ gasped Cindy.
Lawrence had removed part of the back seat of the Jag, and sitting on a blanket on the leather was a huge disgruntled ram.
‘Look at the size of the thing!’ Cindy had never seen such a huge sheep.
‘Careful with those ties I’ve had to use to strap him in. Didn’t want him to move around,’ said Lawrence by way of explanation. ‘Now, go easy getting him out of the Jag. Easier if I’d taken the ute to the sales, but I didn’t know I’d be buying this champion. He’s far too valuable to leave for anyone else to transport, so I brought him home myself.’
‘Did you drive straight through? I thought you were staying the night in Wagga,’ said Murray, as he and the jackaroo eased the ram out of the elegant car.
‘Oh, I did,’ replied Lawrence with a rare grin.
‘I asked the girl at the motel where I could stable my car. She looked at the Jag and said, “I see why you’d want that car under cover.” And I said, “It’s not the car that I’m concerned about. It’s the passenger in the back.”’ And to Cindy’s amazement, Lawrence actually laughed.
As the superb ram got to its feet and shook itself indignantly, Murray ran his hand over its head, parting the wool along its back. He straightened up and looked at his father.
‘He’s a good ’un, isn’t he?’ said Lawrence, obviously pleased with himself.
‘How much did you pay for this animal?’ Murray asked.
Lawrence watched the jackaroo lead the ram into the shed. ‘Put him into the pen we use to treat any sick sheep,’ he called after him. ‘Put up the rails and tether him there. Give him a feed and water and let him settle down.’ He glanced at Cindy and then at Murray.
As Cindy went over to look at the ram, she heard Lawrence say, ‘You’ll probably read about it in The Land, so I’ll tell you. I paid $160,000 for that ram. He’s called Hercules Two and he’s from a good old line. Very docile. His progeny will return us money in no time.’
‘Bit of an impulsive buy, wasn’t it?’ remarked Murray drily.
‘Maybe, son, but I know what I’m doing.’
*
That night Murray poured himself a stiff Scotch and sat down opposite Cindy.
‘I hope that ram is nice and snug,’ said Cindy.
‘Yes. Might be a bit cold tonight.’ Murray looked at her and they both burst out laughing.
‘Still, it’s an awful lot of money,’ said Cindy. ‘Is he worth it?’
‘It’s a pretty famous bloodline. Linked right back to the Peppins. But to make it worthwhile, you’ve got to see a lot of bang for your buck … so to speak.’ Murray took a sip of his drink. ‘I’m not sure if Dad has a plan; I think this was just an impulsive purchase, and that’s unusual for Dad. He’s always taken time to think things through in the past.’ Murray frowned. ‘I have to say this wool boom has really gripped him. But I don’t think Dad would ever do anything to put Kingsley Downs at risk.’
‘I know that some of the other landowners around here are diversifying, even the Jacksons. Running a few cattle and such. Do you think Lawrence would do that?’ Cindy asked.
‘Dad’s a wool man through and through. I don’t think he’d want to change. But he’s heading off somewhere again tomorrow. I’m babysitting Hercules. Talk about a fortune on four legs. I hope the ewes are as impressed with him as
Dad was.’
‘Oh dear, what if they want nothing to do with him?’ Cindy giggled, but Murray didn’t laugh.
*
That year, Russell was the only one of the children to come home for Christmas. Sally and Ashley were spending it with Ashley’s parents and Gordon was unable to get the time off from the cattle station where he was working, so it was a relatively quiet time.
However, Cindy’s Christmas present from Lawrence was a stunning surprise. When they all went over to Lawrence’s place for Christmas dinner, there under the traditional Christmas tree was an envelope marked ‘Cynthia’, and in it were two tickets to the huge Bicentennial Fashion Extravaganza at the Sydney Opera House, to be hosted by the Chairman of the Wool Corporation and whose guests of honour were Prince Charles and Princess Diana.
‘Good heavens!’ Cindy exclaimed, and she read the invitation out to Murray. ‘Presented by the Wool Corporation and the International Wool Secretariat to showcase Australia’s ultrafine Merino wool in an haute couture show featuring collections from the world’s top nine fashion designers on the same runway. Murray! Princess Diana. Think of it! What will I wear? Did you know about this?’
Murray shook his head. ‘Well, I knew about the show, and I mentioned it to Dad, because of his being on the board, and asked if it would be possible to get tickets. He said they were scarce and expensive, but he obviously managed to get some.’
‘Well, it’s certainly a lovely surprise, so thanks for planting the seed. It’s so nice of your father. Oh goodness, wait till I tell Alice! She will be pea green with envy.’
*
Indeed, the trip to Sydney and the Bicentennial celebrations was a time Cindy would never forget. The gala evening was a particular standout. Cindy let her head go and bought a very expensive gown from one of Sydney’s most fashionable boutiques. She didn’t care if she’d never have the opportunity to wear the dress again, but she was gratified when Murray gave a very appreciative whistle when she put it on.
‘You look very handsome yourself,’ she said to Murray, who was in his evening suit. ‘We might have been married for more than twenty-five years, but I think you still look pretty good when you get dressed up, too.’
The Opera House had been beautifully decorated for the occasion and was swarming with the press. Cindy was thrilled to see the couture clothes from some of the biggest names in the fashion world: Versace, Donna Karan, Jean Muir and Oscar de la Renta. But it was Princess Diana who stole the show. To Cindy she looked more beautiful in person than she was in her photos, and she seemed to enjoy herself immensely. Cindy admired her midnight-blue ballerina-length dress and two-toned shoes decorated with little pink polka dots. ‘How absolutely perfect,’ Cindy whispered to Murray.
As the evening wore on and Cindy watched Princess Diana chatting with designer Jean Muir, she couldn’t help but remember Alice’s pool-side fashion parades in Palm Springs. She had thought those so thrilling, but they paled in comparison with this evening. She would have loved to hear Alice’s commentary on this avant-garde show.
*
Before she knew it, summer was waning. Cindy clung to every moment of those fading days where the heat cooled at sundown and the light softly lingered.
The seasons were so different from those of her childhood in Spokane, where fall and spring were definite events with a personality and time frame. There, days lengthened and shortened, gardens wilted, filled with gold and russet, or turned from bare and stark to soft hazy green. Spring and fall were a brief interlude to prepare for the coming heat or chill. Here, it seemed to Cindy, one morning was overpoweringly hot, while the next brought a looming frost.
Just as Rose had created a small sitting room in the big house, which gave a serene view across the paddocks towards the setting sun, so Cindy had enclosed a section of the verandah she called the Sundowner Room in her new house. Here she and Murray, family and friends, could gather to watch the sunset. In the height of summer, they could lower the slotted bamboo blinds, turn on the fans and pretend they were in Asia.
On one late summer evening, as the last rays of the sun faded, Cindy put her needlepoint to one side, picked up her gin and tonic and let the dying light of the day soothe her.
‘Hey, Mum, can I join you?’ a familiar voice called to her.
Cindy looked up to see her son approaching her. ‘Gordon! What a lovely surprise, of course you may. Have you got an early mark?’
‘Dad and I got through the job faster than we thought. I’m about to get stuck into some work on my computer. I’m not disturbing you, am I?’
‘Not at all,’ said Cindy gladly. She was delighted that Gordon was back home fulltime now, learning the ropes from his father and grandfather and staking his own claim to Kingsley Downs. ‘Why don’t you stay and have a quick sundowner? How’s the work going on that breeding program? I must say, while it seems a bit complicated, your spreadsheets and charts are a lot more comprehensive than the coloured pins in the chart behind your father’s office door,’ said Cindy with a smile.
‘Computer programs are the way of the future,’ said Gordon, pouring himself a beer. ‘Ewes are pretty reliable at giving birth, but it helps if you can put in the variables, like unpredictable weather, pasture growth, fecundity, and so on. It’s easier to keep track of them in a computer that flags things. I’m also making sure the younger ewes are with some of the older ones to learn the ropes, as it were. Plus we’re thinking of putting up special shelters for the ewes, in case the coming winter is a harsh one.’
They chatted quietly before Murray came in and joined them. Listening to father and son discuss plans, probabilities and possibilities, the old dog and the young pup wanting to try out new ideas, Cindy felt a rush of contentment.
Later, when Gordon had gone to finish his work on his computer, she asked Murray, ‘When you were Gordon’s age, did you have as many new ideas and plans as he does?’
Murray shook his head. ‘Not really. As far as I was concerned, Dad’s way, like his father’s, was tried and true, but once someone else started doing something different and it worked, everyone copied it.’
‘I don’t think shearing will ever change. Do you? There’s no way a machine or chemicals could get a fleece off a sheep better than those brawny men in their navy singlets with those sweeping, steady hands,’ said Cindy. ‘It still fascinates me. It’s like a ballet; pull the beast out of the pen, onto the stand, buzz up the belly and in two minutes the whole fleece comes off in one piece and the animal is down the chute naked and stunned. And the fleece is floating onto the classing table.’
