Contents
1 Visitors
2 News From Home
3 On a Frosty Morning
4 The Chook Thief
5 Marvellous Idea
6 To the Rescue
7 Making Plans
8 Looking for Dad
9 Final Term
10 What Really Happened
11 The Final Curtain
SLUGS were eating holes in the baby cabbages. Where had they come from? The last time Ruby had looked, the new little plants were growing beautifully. Today they were shredded. Tattered. Falling to bits, just like her life.
She flicked a slug off a leaf with a stick and stamped on it, grinding it into the earth with her bare foot.
It was a cold, sunny Saturday afternoon, and Ruby was helping her cousin May in the vegetable garden at Kettle Farm. She’d just come from the chook yard, where she’d been shovelling dried chicken manure into the big wooden wheelbarrow. She’d shovelled until her arms ached. It was good to work really hard like that, because it stopped her thinking about Dad.
Less than a week ago Ruby had found out that her father had been in prison. The first shock of pain and disbelief had faded, and now she felt sad and angry and afraid, all at once. She still wasn’t sure what he’d done, but she knew it was something to do with money and his business going bankrupt.
When she’d told Mother she knew about Dad, Mother had gone very still and quiet. Then she’d said, ‘I’m glad you know, Ruby. It helps that I don’t have to keep it a secret from you.’ That was all. Mother had made it clear she didn’t want to talk about it.
Ruby had cried her heart out when she’d discovered the truth. To make it even worse, it was Mr West who’d told her. He and her father had been mates, he said. They’d shared a cell in Yatala Prison.
The West family lived in an old rundown cottage on Kettle Farm. Because he wasn’t paying any rent, Mr West was supposed to be helping Uncle James with the farm work. So far he hadn’t helped at all, saying he had a bad back. Ruby didn’t believe him. She liked the four West children, particularly Cynthia, the oldest girl, and five-year-old Josie, but Mr West made her feel uncomfortable. There was something sly and tricky about him.
The West children went to the local school. They’d had a hard time there because everybody knew their father had been in jail for thieving. Last week they’d been hounded from the school in a way that still made Ruby feel sick when she thought about it.
When she was living in Adelaide (it seemed a lifetime ago) Ruby had heard one of Dad’s friends say, ‘Harry Quinlan is the most thoroughly decent man I know.’ And he was. Ruby still couldn’t believe –wouldn’t believe – that he’d done anything wrong. At least he wasn’t in prison anymore. Mr West said he’d been released. But Mother hadn’t heard from him for ages, so where was he now?
The day Ruby had found out about Dad had been the most utterly awful day of her life, even worse than the day Mother had told her they’d have to sell their beautiful Adelaide house, even worse than when Dad said that their house was to be bought by Uncle Donald Walker. But on that utterly awful day something good had happened too, because she and May had decided to forget that they had ever disliked each other, and now they were friends. Not the way Ruby and Doris Spinks had been friends, but proper friends.
‘Sometimes you’ll find the most beautiful flowers growing in a dung-heap,’ Aunt Flora had said, when she’d found Ruby crying about Dad.
Ruby thought about that as Baxter, her little fox terrier, sat down next to her on the path and began to scratch himself. Uncle James had banned him from the house, but when Ruby was outside he liked to stay close to her. He almost certainly had fleas, Ruby decided. And he had the same sort of doggy, earthy, sheep smell as Shep and Sparkie, her uncle’s working dogs. He needed a bath. But country dogs didn’t have baths. And if they had fleas, they had fleas.
‘Wake up, Ruby!’ called May. ‘Bring us the chicken poo, will you?’
‘Coming!’ Ruby called back. She trundled the wheelbarrow over to where May was digging a new garden bed. Jars of seeds collected from last year lay on the path, waiting to be planted: carrots and silver-beet, peas and parsnips.
‘You’re still thinking about Uncle Harry, aren’t you?’ May said. ‘I can tell. You must try to stop it, Ruby. You can’t change anything.’
‘I know that. I just wish I knew what really happened, though. I can’t talk to Mother about it. She misses Dad so much, and she gets dreadfully upset if I ask her anything.’
‘She’s already upset,’ May pointed out. ‘It might do her good to talk about it. You shovel, and I’ll rake.’
‘At least nobody knows about Dad but our family,’ Ruby said, spreading a shovelful of manure.
‘The Wests know too,’ May reminded her, raking busily. ‘Cynthia wouldn’t say anything, but I don’t trust Mr West, do you?’
Ruby shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t trust Doris Spinks, either. If she ever finds out, it’ll be all around the school in about ten seconds, and then it’ll be all around the district. Doris already knows Dad’s in some sort of trouble.’
‘Well, what if she does find out?’ May said. ‘You can stand up to anyone. Remember what Aunt Flora said – you’re as tough as the hide of a hairy goat.’
Ruby laughed, but gloomy thoughts soon began to crowd into her mind again. She concentrated on shovelling till the wheelbarrow was empty. ‘Shall I get us some more manure?’
‘No, that’s enough. Let’s get these seeds in.’ May stopped, and raised her head. ‘Is that a car horn?’
It was. Beep beep! Ruby lifted her head to listen too. So did Baxter. Seconds later the little dog was racing for the gate in the garden fence, barking with excitement.
‘Come here, Baxter!’ Ruby called. ‘Baxter!’
‘It’s probably Mr Schultz delivering grain for the chooks,’ May said. ‘I’ll go and find Dad.’
But it wasn’t Mr Schultz’s truck. Instead a big black car purred around the bend in the driveway. A car with a gleaming silver radiator, enormous headlights, and a radiator cap in the shape of a swooping silver eagle.
Ruby recognised it straightaway. It was Uncle Donald Walker’s Humber. And inside it were Uncle Donald (who wasn’t really Ruby’s uncle, but who’d been her father’s business partner), Aunt Muriel, and Ruby’s second-worst friend, Brenda.
For one magical moment Ruby thought that Dad might be with them, too, but she soon saw that he wasn’t. Still, Uncle Donald might have news of him. She ran up to the car, full of hope.
Mother had been the first to come out to the driveway, closely followed by everyone else – Uncle James and Aunt Vera, Ruby’s cousins Walter and Bee, and even old Aunt Flora, looking grumpy because she’d been woken from her afternoon nap.
Mother introduced everyone to Uncle Donald and Aunt Muriel and then was silent, twisting a handkerchief in her fingers.
‘We were just passing,’ Uncle Donald said. ‘Muriel has relatives who own a property near Angaston, and we thought we’d pop in and see you on the way home. How are you? How’s life in the country, Winifred? Ruby?’
‘It’s perfectly smashing,’ replied Ruby. She waved to Brenda, who was still in the car, but Brenda didn’t wave back. Perhaps she was asleep. Ruby didn’t want to waste time on Brenda, though, because she was bursting with impatience to hear about her father. ‘Uncle Donald, have you heard from Dad? Please say you have.’
‘Not lately,’ Uncle Donald said. ‘I’m not sure where he is. He came around to collect his mail about three weeks ago, but I haven’t heard a dicky-bird from him since.’
‘Oh.’ Ruby tried to make herself believe that three weeks wasn’t a very long time. ‘Do
you have any idea where he could be?’
‘None at all. Sorry to disappoint you, Ruby. I expect he’ll be in touch with you in due course. You and Winifred can rest assured that I’d tell you if I knew where he was, but I can’t go scouring the countryside . . . Yes, it’s a splendid car, isn’t it?’ he added, turning to Walter.
Walter was examining the Humber with a look of wonder on his face. His little sister, Bee, touched the head of the eagle on the radiator cap. ‘My goodness, you can see every feather,’ she said. ‘Is it real silver?’
‘Not quite,’ Uncle Donald replied. ‘But it’s worth a bit.’
Uncle Donald looked plumper than he used to, Ruby thought. Everything about him looked sleek and prosperous – his snug-fitting woollen overcoat, his grey gloves with little pearl buttons, his silk cravat. Like Aunt Muriel in her fur-trimmed coat and smart black hat, he seemed to have dropped in from another world. Beside them, Uncle James and Aunt Vera looked even poorer and shabbier than usual. Uncle James’s trousers were filthy, and Ruby couldn’t help noticing that Aunt Vera’s green hand-knitted jumper had holes in the elbows.
Uncle Donald turned to Mother. ‘You’re looking well, Winifred,’ he said in a hearty voice. But Ruby could tell that he was shocked to see how thin Mother was. Her beautiful clothes hung loosely on her, and her hair, once neatly permed in the latest style, was limp and straggly, held back with bobby pins. In the last few weeks she’d stopped wearing makeup.
‘That’s an extremely expensive-looking automobile,’ Aunt Flora observed, waving her walking stick in the direction of the Humber. ‘I fully expected that we were being visited by royalty, and I am bitterly disappointed to find that there is not a crown nor a diamond tiara in sight.’
‘Well, I’m sorry –’ Uncle Donald began, but at the same time Aunt Muriel said, ‘Really, what a thing to say! Some people have no manners.’
‘And some people have no consideration,’ retorted Aunt Flora. ‘Isn’t it enough that you now inhabit Winifred’s house, without coming here to lord it over her further with this ridiculous display of wealth?’
‘Please don’t say such things, Aunt Flora,’ Mother said. Two little dots of red had flared up in her pale cheeks. ‘Donald and Muriel are my friends, and I am very happy to see them.’
‘Humph,’ said Aunt Flora. ‘If these are your friends, Winifred, I’d hate to meet your enemies.’
In the silence that followed Ruby could hear a kookaburra laughing, far away across the paddocks. For a crazy moment she wanted to laugh, too, but then, just as suddenly, she felt more like crying.
‘Oh dear, I’m forgetting myself,’ Aunt Vera said hastily. ‘Do come in, everyone, and I’ll make you a cup of tea. May, could you please butter us some scones?’
‘I’ll help,’ said Bee. ‘Can I get out the good china, Mum? It’s ages since we used it. There should be enough cups, if May and I have the cracked ones. Are you coming, Ruby?’
‘In a minute,’ Ruby said, glancing at Brenda, who was getting out of the car.
The women went inside, followed by May and Bee, and the men and Walter stayed in the driveway. ‘Six cylinders,’ Uncle Donald was saying. ‘A wonderfully smooth ride. What do you drive, James?’
‘HELLO, Brenda,’ said Ruby.
‘Hello, Ruby,’ said Brenda. ‘I wondered when you’d notice me.’ She looked down at Ruby’s feet. ‘You’re not wearing any shoes.’
‘I know.’
‘And your knees are all dirty.’
‘I know.’
‘And there’s something in your hair. It looks like a bit of feather.’ She peered at Ruby’s head. ‘Honestly, Ruby, you’re a complete fright. What on earth have you been doing?’
Ruby looked at Brenda’s good navy-blue coat with its velvet collar, her neat hat like a felt pudding basin, and her shiny shoes. Her socks were nicely pulled up and held in place with garters. ‘I’ve been in the chook yard,’ she said. ‘Collecting chicken poo.’
‘Chicken poo?’ Brenda stared at her. ‘Why?’
‘We eat it, of course.’
‘You eat poo?’
Ruby nodded. ‘We put it on our porridge. It’s awfully good for you. D’you want to see the chooks? It’s my job to feed them every day, and collect the eggs.’
‘All right.’ Behind her round spectacles, Brenda’s eyes were very big. ‘You seem different, Ruby,’ she said, hurrying to keep up with her. ‘You’ve changed. You look . . .’
‘Like a farm girl,’ Ruby finished. ‘Mind your shoes. It’s mucky out here.’
‘It’s big, isn’t it?’ Brenda said, when they were standing outside the chook yard. ‘And the chooks smell disgusting. Sort of like old gumboots.’
‘They smell like chooks,’ Ruby said. ‘Shall I show you the rest of the farm?’
‘Are there horses?’
‘No.’
‘I don’t want to see any more, then. It’s very run-down, isn’t it? Doesn’t your uncle have any money?’
‘Not much.’
‘Mama’s cousin in Angaston, the one we’ve just visited, is doing terribly well. He has more than a thousand acres, Mama says. How many acres does your uncle have?’
‘A bit less than that,’ Ruby said. She wished she could say that Uncle James had much more than a thousand acres, and that he was doing terribly well too. Uncle James wasn’t the nicest person in the world, but she didn’t want Brenda to make insulting remarks about him. ‘He works awfully hard, though, and he only has one arm. He was a hero in the war.’
‘Was he?’ Brenda glanced up at the sky. ‘Oh no, it’s starting to drizzle, and it’ll spoil my hat. Can we go somewhere and talk, just us two? It’s such ages since I’ve seen you.’
There were lots of things Ruby wanted to ask Brenda, too. ‘We could go to the sunroom,’ she said. ‘I’ll get us some scones.’
‘Mmm,’ Brenda said, munching. ‘These are delicious. Mama says you can always judge a cook by her scones.’
‘May baked them this morning,’ Ruby told her. ‘And she is a really good cook. You probably remember May from my fancy-dress birthday party last year.’
‘How could I forget?’ Brenda giggled. ‘She stuck out like a sore toe. Marjorie Mack said she was like a cabbage in a rose garden.’
‘I remember Marjorie saying that. How is Marjorie? She said she’d write to me, but she never did.’
‘You know what Marjorie’s like,’ Brenda said. ‘She’s our form captain now and she’s always terribly busy. She organises everyone to bits. She made us all put in money for a wedding present for Miss Fraser, and Marjorie chose it herself. It was a cigarette box, a brass one with an elephant on it.’
‘Does Miss Fraser smoke?’
‘I don’t think so, but it doesn’t matter, does it? Almost our whole class went to her wedding last weekend, and we wore our school uniforms and we made a guard of honour. Miss Fraser wasn’t a pretty bride at all, though. She was wearing a really old-fashioned dress, and she didn’t even have a veil, just some orange blossom in her hair. She could have at least tried to be fashionable.’
‘I expect it was the wedding dress she would have worn if she’d married her first fiancé, the one who was killed in the war,’ Ruby said, half to herself. She wished she’d been at Miss Fraser’s wedding.
‘Well, it didn’t look very good. It was lace, sort of droopy. I know Miss Fraser was engaged to someone else before, but you shouldn’t dwell on the past. Mama says it’s unhealthy.’ She bit into another scone. ‘Anyway, we’ve got a new form mistress now that Miss Fraser has left. Her name is Miss Butcher, and she’s really pretty and terribly popular. Her hair is naturally wavy. I wish my hair was naturally wavy. I say, is there anything apart from this milk to drink? It tastes funny. At home we have lemonade and ginger beer in the refrigerator. I didn’t tell you we have a refrigerator now, did I?’
Ruby had a little inward struggle with herself. That’s my home Brenda’s talking about, she thought. My home, that my father bu
ilt. And now they have a refrigerator! I always wanted one of those. She remembered how Mrs Traill, her family’s housekeeper, had kept her home-made ice-cream in the old icebox, and suddenly she longed for an ice-cream. She saw it in her mind, a big scoop in a frosted silver dish with a cherry on top . . .
‘Sorry, Brenda,’ she said. ‘Milk is all there is, unless you want water.’ And then, although it hurt to say it, she asked, ‘How is our house? Are you enjoying living there? Are the fish in the fishpond still alive?’
‘The house is much better than it was when you lived there,’ Brenda replied, through another mouthful of scone. ‘Mama had all the rooms painted. She said they looked a bit grubby. The front room is pink now, and your bedroom, or rather my bedroom, is pale green. It looks very fashionable. I’m afraid some of the fish have died. How many were there?’
‘Six.’
‘There are only four now. I try to remember to feed them, but I keep forgetting. I’m not used to having pets.’
Ruby’s heart was very full. Two of her goldfish dead, and her bedroom painted green! Green! ‘I loved that house,’ she burst out. ‘I wish, wish, wish we hadn’t had to sell it.’
Brenda gazed at her through her owlish spectacles. ‘It must be strange for you, hearing me talk about it. But we like the house as much as you did, and it’s our house now.’
‘I know it is. I just wish . . . I wish it wasn’t.’
Brenda leaned forward. ‘You know, Daddy always wanted your house. He used to say it was just the sort of house he’d like to live in, and he’d do anything to get it. Isn’t it marvellous that he did get it, in the end?’
‘Yes, marvellous,’ Ruby said. She had to force the words out.
‘We’re putting in a tennis court, too, so we can give tennis parties.’
‘Are you? That’s . . . marvellous.’
There was a long silence, and then Brenda said, ‘By the way, who was that frightful old woman who was so rude to Mama?’
‘Oh, that’s Aunt Flora. She’s Uncle James’s great-aunt.’
‘She looks like a witch, all dressed in black like that.’
Ruby of Kettle Farm Page 1
