A Distant Journey

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Tomorrow. I think he’s looking forward to it, even if it’s for the last time.’

  *

  Early next morning, Cindy drove Murray to their little airstrip. She kissed him goodbye and watched as he took off and the small dot that was the plane disappeared to the north.

  Later that day, two workers arrived with heavy equipment and started ripping into the weeds and undergrowth along the creek. Cindy was sitting at her desk doing the household accounts when the phone shrilled, making her jump.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Mrs Parnell? Marcus Swift here, I’m looking to buy that plane of yours. I understood Mr Parnell was bringing it up today? I expected him to be here by now. Is there a hold-up?’

  Cindy felt her heart thud in her chest. ‘What! He left here early this morning. He must be there by now. How’s the weather where you are? Could that be a problem?’ White-faced, Cindy looked at Russell as he came into the kitchen. She put her hand over the receiver to tell him that his father’s plane was missing.

  Russell grasped the phone from her and quickly asked several questions.

  ‘So you’ll report that it’s missing to the authorities in Queensland? We’ll do the same at this end.’ Russell hung up and looked at his mother grimly.

  ‘Russell, I can’t believe this. If anything happens to your father, I don’t know how I’ll cope,’ said Cindy, choking back her tears.

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine, Mum,’ said Russell, trying to comfort his mother. ‘We can’t panic yet. Mr Swift said the weather isn’t great; let’s just hope Dad put down somewhere to wait it out. I’ll ring the civil aviation authorities; they’ll know what to do.’

  Cindy sat still, numbed by the thought that something might have happened to Murray.

  ‘I’ll ring Sally and Gordon and tell them what’s happening, too, and I’d better tell Grandfather,’ suggested Russell.

  ‘We’ll have to wait for him to get home. I saw him drive off this morning. Thanks for offering to ring Sally and Gordon, but maybe we should wait a little while and just see if … if your father shows up. I wouldn’t want to worry them unnecessarily.’

  Russell nodded, and reached for his mother’s hand.

  *

  After Russell had made his calls, Cindy tried to ring Jo a couple of times, needing her support and reassurance, but there was no answer. Eventually, as time passed without any news, Cindy decided it was time to ring her children. They were hard calls to make, but she tried to sound positive as she broke the news to Gordon and Sally that Murray’s plane was missing in Queensland. She told them to stay put till she had more news.

  As the sun began to sink in the late afternoon, Cindy straightened up. ‘I’m going to the big house to see your grandfather. I can’t tell him that Murray is missing over the phone. That’s not right. If he’s not there, I’ll wait until he comes.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ asked Russell.

  ‘No, darling. One of us has to stay by the phone, in case we get a call. You can ring me at the big house if there’s any news.’

  In the gathering twilight, Cindy drove to the big house along the track she knew so intimately. The grand old home came into view. There were no lights on yet, and she couldn’t see Lawrence’s car parked out the front.

  The door was unlocked, so she went inside and walked slowly through the house, unchanged since the first time she’d set foot on Kingsley Downs.

  Without Mrs Flowers’s presence, there was no smell of food cooking, of furniture polish or a winter fire, or the perfume of summer roses that Cindy recalled. The house was a shell, where Lawrence merely existed, living with his ghosts and memories, thought Cindy with a shiver.

  She went through the house and sat on the front verandah, where they’d gathered for drinks in those early years, where Lawrence had stiffly held sway.

  Had Lawrence always been like that, or was his imperi­ous attitude an armour against his feelings, his secrets?

  Had he ever known, or shown, softness, pain, or guilt? Was the image he presented to the world very different from the person he truly was? wondered Cindy. No, she concluded. He was an enigma. She thought of all the years her husband had had to put up with his callous father. My poor darling Murray. Please come home to me safely. She closed her eyes and prayed, tears burning beneath her lids.

  Suddenly a hand fell on her shoulder. Lawrence stood beside her.

  ‘Cynthia? May I ask why you’re here?’ he asked coldly.

  Cindy brushed her eyes, stepped away from him.

  ‘I have to speak to you.’

  ‘Is it necessary to invade my home? What is so important? What more do you want to harass me about?’

  ‘Lawrence, please turn on a light.’

  He moved to the lamp on the small table, his straight back outlined against the flyscreen shielding the night sky. As the small pool of yellow light flicked on, Cindy let out her breath.

  ‘It’s Murray. The plane hasn’t turned up, he’s overdue. There’s been bad weather, so we’re hoping he’s put down somewhere on someone’s strip or –’

  Lawrence sucked in his breath. ‘There’s a search organised?’ His voice sounded faintly strangled.

  ‘Yes, all the authorities have been notified. We’re all praying he’ll turn up safe and sound.’

  Lawrence jabbed an accusatory finger at Cindy. His faced was screwed up with hatred. ‘This is your fault, Cynthia. He would never have been trying to sell the plane without your influence. You have pushed him into doing things against our better judgement.’

  ‘Rubbish, Lawrence. We wouldn’t be in this position if you hadn’t been so damned arrogant,’ snapped Cindy. She was furious. Instead of sympathy, Lawrence was laying blame.

  ‘How dare you speak to me in that manner? I rue the day my poor son ever clapped eyes on you.’ He took a step towards her. ‘Why didn’t you go back? Why don’t you go back now! You have never fitted in here. You’ve caused nothing but trouble. I never wanted you here,’ he shouted at her.

  Rage burning through her, Cindy opened her mouth to shout back at him when the phone in the corner of the room rang. Lawrence stalked over and picked up the receiver.

  ‘What?’ he barked. He paused a moment and then looked at Cindy, his eyes narrowed. ‘It’s for you.’

  Cindy snatched the receiver from him, desperately hoping for news of Murray.

  ‘Mrs Parnell, I’m ringing from your place,’ came the shaky voice of one of the men who had been clearing

  the weeds. ‘We were just packing up and we’ve … we’ve found something. A body, well, you know, remains … been there some time.’

  ‘A body?’ said Cindy, frowning. ‘Like a swaggie, or an old blackfellow?’

  ‘We think it’s a woman. We found a gold watch and a wedding ring.’

  Cindy felt her heart hammer and a roaring started in her ears.

  ‘Call the police,’ she said, her eyes swivelling to Lawrence. ‘Call them right now. Tell them to go to the big house. Tell them they need to speak to Lawrence Parnell. That a skeleton has been found.’

  For a second, everything around Cindy seemed to happen in slow motion … Lawrence’s expression, the phone falling from her hand …

  But then, as Lawrence let out an animal noise and suddenly lunged towards her, Cindy snapped to life, lurching forward, skidding on the floor as she slid from his reach. She heard a crash behind her as she sprinted from the verandah into the darkening garden.

  Stumbling, she reached the car, flinging herself inside.

  She drove wildly home, sobbing, glancing frantically in her rear-vision mirror, but there was no sign of any car following her.

  *

  At the house, Russell was waiting for her by the front door.

  ‘Mum! What’s happened? Why get the police so urgently?’ asked Russell, looking co
ncerned as he hurried down the steps to meet her.

  Cindy grabbed him, trying to get her breath. She held his arm tightly as they went into the kitchen, where the workers were drinking tea. They both jumped to their feet.

  ‘Sorry this has happened,’ said the older man. ‘It gave us a fright. Thought it was an old Aboriginal, until my mate saw these. We thought we’d better let you know.’ He fished in his pocket and placed a ring and a watch on the kitchen table.

  Shakily, Cindy picked up the watch. It was caked in dirt and, as she started to rub it off, she caught her breath and silently handed it to Russell.

  He stared at it and then slowly read aloud the words engraved on its back, ‘To Rose, every minute with you is precious.’

  Russell caught his breath and put his arms around his mother. ‘So now we know …’

  Cindy slowly nodded her head.

  *

  Cindy sat at the table listening quietly to Russell and the two workers while they waited for the police. She tried not to think about Murray and Rose, as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

  Finally, red and blue lights flashed up the drive. Cindy and Russell walked to the front door.

  ‘Mrs Parnell?’ The tall officer removed his hat.

  ‘Come in.’ Cindy led them to the side verandah and sat stiffly in one of the wicker chairs, Russell standing behind her, his hand on her shoulder. ‘Have you had word about my husband?’

  ‘Your husband? No. We’ve been over to the other house, looking for Mr Lawrence Parnell. We went through the house, but we couldn’t find him in there. My constable did a bit of a search.’ He cleared his throat, ‘Mrs Parnell, I am sorry to have to tell you, but unfortunately we found Lawrence Parnell dead by one of the trees in a paddock near the house,’ said the police officer gravely. ‘He took his own life.’

  Cindy exhaled and gripped Russell’s hand. She didn’t know how to feel. Relieved? Angry? Shaken?

  ‘He shot himself. Definite suicide,’ said the policeman quietly. ‘He left a note of sorts,’ he added, shifting uncomfortably.

  ‘What did it say?’ asked Cindy.

  ‘It was an accident,’ the officer replied, frowning.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Cindy quietly.

  The police asked her some questions and took notes, as Cindy tried to answer them calmly, but all she could think of was Murray. Was he alive? How would she tell him about Rose? About Lawrence?

  The police finally finished and bid Cindy and Russell good night. Then they asked the workmen to show them where they had found Rose’s body. Further investigations would begin in the morning, the police added.

  ‘I hope your husband is okay,’ they added as they left.

  Cindy sat still, holding Russell’s hand. Gently, she told him what she knew about Lawrence and Rose.

  ‘I guess the truth finally came out,’ said Russell in a shocked tone.

  ‘And it was no accident, Russell,’ said Cindy bitterly. ‘Lawrence had been mistreating and abusing Rose for a long time. Whether he intended for her die or not, a man who’s violent and abuses his wife for years is guilty of her death in my book.’

  She was quiet a moment.

  ‘We’ll have to call Gordon and Sally,’ said Russell finally.

  ‘Let’s wait. It’s late. Maybe we’ll have news in the morning,’ Cindy managed to say.

  *

  The night hours glued together with agonising slowness. Cindy curled in a chair, the phone close by, while Russell slept fitfully in the next room.

  The call came an hour after first light. Cindy flung herself onto the telephone. Russell sat beside her as Cindy listened, tears beginning to stream down her face.

  ‘Thank you. Yes. I understand …’

  ‘Mum … ?’ Russell’s face was suddenly that of a frightened little boy.

  She took his hand. ‘Dad’s alive. They found the plane. He crash-landed in a paddock near Charters Towers. He’s got a broken leg, they think, but he’ll be okay. He’s being driven to hospital. I have to ring Sally and Gordon right away.’

  ‘You do that, Mum. I’ll make us both a cup of tea.’ Russell gave her a quick hug and went to the kitchen.

  Cindy slumped back in her chair and burst into tears, the emotion of the past twenty-four hours flooding over her. Murray was alive. That was all that mattered now.

  *

  Cindy sat quietly in the Sundowner Room, gazing out at her favourite scene, though now the dark shapes of cattle had started to replace the grey smudges of the Merinos.

  In the far reaches of the house, she could hear the subdued voices of her family. Cindy was so pleased that Marie’s family had remained close, though it had been a while since they’d come to Kingsley Downs.

  Shortly after Lawrence’s death, there had been a quiet, private service for him and his ashes had been scattered over Kingsley Downs.

  Now that Murray alone controlled the property’s finances, he and Cindy had quickly begun to put things in order to try to salvage what they could. It was decided that, since fat lambs could be successfully raised on Mirooball Station, Gordon would stay on there and see if he could make a go of it, rather than leasing the place straight away. Murray had to admit that his father’s investment might not have been such a poor one after all. Gordon had also told his parents that he’d met a nice Bathurst girl, and was in no hurry to return home.

  Kingsley Downs was to be divided up and, to Murray’s surprise, they were offered an impressive sum for the block which included the big house, because it was an historic home. Cindy was relieved, not just because the sale would reduce their debt, but because she could never see herself, or Murray, living in a house with such a sad history. On their section, the beef cattle which had replaced the Merinos were profitable and were proving to be less trouble.

  She heard a footfall and without turning Cindy gathered her handbag and pashmina. She wore a slim black dress, but had added a gold brooch which pinned a fresh yellow rosebud to her shoulder, plucked from Rose’s garden.

  ‘Do I pass muster?’

  ‘Always.’

  Murray, leaning on a cane to support his mending leg, smiled. ‘You’re a very beautiful woman. Inside and out.

  I love you, Cin.’

  She went to him and kissed him lightly. ‘I’m the lucky one. Are you ready for this?’

  ‘I’m ready.’

  She took his arm. ‘Lean on me.’

  *

  The Anglican Church in Yamboola had been one of the first buildings Cindy had noticed when she’d arrived in the small town. It had seemed quaint and old-fashioned, although it met the needs of its country congregation. It was a small white wooden building with a green tin roof where good people worshipped, prayed for rain and shared the vicissitudes of a rural existence, facing the universal joys and sadness of birth, marriage and death.

  They had expected a modest gathering for Rose’s funeral service, but to Murray’s surprise the church was overflowing.

  ‘So many people! Most didn’t know her,’ he exclaimed softly to Cindy as they entered the little church.

  ‘They’re here for you, darling. To show their respect and support.’

  It was a gathering of ordinary people: resilient, brave, humble and practical. These were people who weathered the storms of life with humour and stoicism, who often kept to themselves, but were always first to help family, friend, or neighbour.

  As Murray made his way into the church, he was slowed by warm greetings from people he had known most of his life. Mrs Flowers put her arms around Murray and held him for a long moment. The Flowerses had been shocked and shaken by the revelations about their long-time employers. Moving away from Mrs F, Murray nodded his head as he passed row after row of friends and well-wishers. Neighbours like the Jacksons, friends like Jo and Donald, business and professional people who’d deal
t with the Parnells over the years, old school friends, football teammates and their families surrounded him.

  For a moment, Murray gazed about the church at those who’d come to pay their respects to his mother, Rose Parnell. Then he sat beside his wife and the minister began the service.

  Cindy listened to his comforting words, but couldn’t help reflecting on what Lawrence had done.

  The site where Rose’s remains had been found had been meticulously cleared and a small suitcase filled with a few of Rose’s clothes and an empty handbag had been found buried there as well. Cindy remained puzzled as to how Rose’s car had been left on the Deniliquin Road.

  Murray thought about it and said, ‘He must have come home early and then gone to the pub later on. And really, the car was only about six or seven miles from the house. Dad could have driven it up there, abandoned it and walked back home in the dark.’

  After the service, Murray and Cindy stood at the church door with the Reverend Peters, thanking each person as they left and headed towards the morning tea set out in the School of Arts hall.

  Reverend Peters excused himself to change and join them at the morning tea.

  ‘Can you walk up the road okay?’ Cindy asked her husband.

  ‘Let’s just sit a minute,’ suggested Murray, pointing to the wooden bench beneath the jacaranda tree at the side of the little church.

  He sat stiffly, rested his cane against the bench and put his arm around Cindy’s shoulders.

  They were silent a moment.

  ‘What’re you thinking?’ prompted Cindy.

  ‘That you were just a girl when I found you in Palm Springs. As fresh and bubbly and sweet as springwater.’

  He looked into her face and Cindy caught her breath at the tender expression in his eyes. ‘Did you ever have regrets? Did you ever want to change things?’ he asked her quietly.

  ‘Never. Ever,’ she said firmly. ‘Not ever.’

  His expression changed and he looked away from Cindy. He closed his eyes and a tear slid down his cheek.

  Cindy took his hand, and finally Murray said the words she knew would eventually heal his heart.