Eagle on the Hill

by JH Fletcher

  Catch the daughter, Rufus thought, and you might catch the man. He felt an unaccustomed sense of gratitude to his wife. Mary’s kindness, misplaced though it might have been, could give him the opportunity to resolve the Armstrong problem once and for all.

  ‘I’m glad you invited that girl to the house,’ he told her. ‘I am sure it is just what Martin needs.’

  Two weeks into the school holidays Brenda drew in at the Grenvilles’ landing. Sarah watched as Charlie reluctantly accompanied Alex to the house.

  He hadn’t wanted to do it, of course.

  ‘Nuthun wrong with her legs, is there? She can find her own way up there, can’t she?’

  ‘Of course she can. But it’d be better if you took her. More polite.’

  Sarah watched as her husband and daughter walked up the slope between the terraces of vines. It gave her the strangest feeling. Ever since her family had settled by the river she had seen Eagle on the Hill as an image of stability and assurance. Despite the troubles they’d had over the years with the owners, she still did.

  Through all the gipsy years, security had been Sarah’s aim. She had never found it, not entirely, and this was what fascinated her about the big house standing arrogantly on the ridge above the river, so solid and enduring, rooted so securely in the earth. From the first it had been a symbol of what her own life lacked.

  She understood how Charlie felt about George Grenville, who had treated him so disgracefully, but she was a great believer in fate and dared to hope that this improbable friendship between Alex and Martin Grenville might bring an end to old resentments.

  Sarah was glad to think it might be so, but was also apprehensive. It was a new and exciting world that Alex was entering and there were more ways to lose a child than having her drown in the river.

  Charlie and Alex passed Baxter on their way up the slope. Baxter obviously had his instructions and did not speak. By the look of him, his silence was giving him a bellyache.

  ‘G’day,’ Charlie said cheerfully. G’day, my man. He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it but his tone did, no error, and he saw Baxter’s eyes narrow as he strode on, whistling.

  Quite made his day.

  Mrs Trask met them on the terrace. She too had been given her orders and was a big, plump smile in a big, plump dress, starched apron white and gleaming, her manner very different from the last time Charlie had been here.

  ‘Master Martin will be here directly,’ she said.

  And so he was, bursting through the door, then stopping and staring at Alex as though a snake had snatched his tongue.

  Alex stared back, as silent as he was. She had been looking forward to this moment so much. Now she had nothing to say and did not know what to do with herself, awkward in the prim dress that her mother had insisted she wear.

  ‘Hello,’ Martin said. It was a start.

  ‘How ya goin’?’

  ‘I’m very well, thank you. D’you want to come in?’

  It was obvious that Martin did not know what to do with his guest now he’d got her. Alex gave him an invisible smile, the best she could manage in the circumstances, and said nothing.

  ‘Come on, then.’

  Martin let her go ahead of him through the door. All this politeness was more terrible than her worst fears.

  Charlie watched her go, too neat and tidy by a sea mile, and looked helplessly at Mrs Trask.

  ‘They’ll be fine once they get used to each other again.’ The dragon had turned motherly. ‘He’s been talking about nothing else for days.’

  Charlie said, ‘That’s fine. I’ll come back for her this evenin’.’

  He had no wish to bump into George Grenville again, so was turning away when Mrs Trask said, ‘Mr Rufus would like to have a word with you.’

  ‘I don’ mind.’ What else could he say, with his child a guest in the man’s house?

  ‘Mr George Grenville has returned to Adelaide.’ Like most well-trained servants, Mrs Trask knew more than she let on. ‘I’ll tell Mr Rufus you’re here.’

  She ushered Charlie indoors, but he had to wait five minutes before Rufus arrived. He was wearing a black, well-fitting suit and brocade waistcoat. He walked quickly across the room with a hint of swagger, his hand outthrust.

  ‘Good to see you again, Armstrong.’ Geniality was clearly the order of the day.

  Rufus led the way to an office. There were charts and plans on the walls. In one corner was a plain wooden desk on which stood a machine with the name Remington inscribed on it. Countless papers were stacked in piles around the machine. Near the window was more furniture: another desk, more elegant than the first, and several chairs. A long case clock with an ornate silver dial ticked against one wall.

  ‘Please sit down.’

  Mrs Trask brought coffee — silver tray, silver pot — and poured it into two porcelain cups, then left them. Rufus, shoulders squared, stood with his back to the room, staring out through the window, until Mrs Trask had closed the door behind her. Then he came and sat down behind the desk, tapping his teeth with a pen and staring thoughtfully at his visitor.

  ‘Business good?’

  Charlie was on his guard. ‘We get by.’

  ‘Plenty of competition, I suppose?’

  ‘Enough.’

  ‘Your daughter goes to school in Niland, I believe.’

  Which Charlie had not expected. His caution intensified. ‘Right.’

  ‘Doing well, is she?’

  ‘Well enough.’

  ‘We thought about it for Martin. But these local schools …’ He smiled, shaking his head, and poured cream into his coffee. ‘No doubt the teacher does her best but there are obvious limitations. Up till now Martin’s had a tutor, but my wife and I have decided to send him to Regency College, in Adelaide.’

  Charlie couldn’t think what any of this had to do with him. He followed Rufus’s lead and drank his coffee, keeping his expression blank.

  ‘It’s a very progressive school. The pupils are instructed in science and mathematics as well as the normal curriculum. There is even a girls’ section. A separate part of the school, of course, with subjects better suited to the female inclination. Domestic subjects, in the main, but with instruction in office routines for those who hope to find a place in the business world.’

  The clock whirred and sonorously struck the hour.

  ‘This quarrel between the families,’ said Rufus. ‘Most unfortunate.’ He smiled candidly at his visitor. ‘But my dear father had his ways of doing things, as you know.’

  ‘Had his ways?’ Charlie probed, frowning. ‘Are you saying —’

  ‘He’s handed over control of the business to me. He’s said it before, of course, but he’s been unwell recently and this time I believe he means it. I thought you knew. It will mean certain changes. That’s inevitable. Different generation, different methods. Take that machine on the desk, for instance. It’s the latest thing from America, for writing letters.’ He leant forward and poured them both more coffee out of the silver pot. ‘I am in favour of fair competition in business, but trying to deprive honest men of their livelihood is the wrong way of going about things. There’s surely trade enough for everyone.’ He smiled. ‘We are all river men, are we not? I want you to think of me as a colleague, not an enemy.’

  Of course there were river men and river men. Charlie finished his coffee and set his cup back in its saucer. Time for candour. ‘It’ll be a welcome change. The way your dad went about things put everybody’s back up.’

  ‘I know. And there’s no need for it. That old business about Titan … Quite unnecessary. She’s turning over a good enough trade without that.’ Again the tap, tap of the pen against Rufus’s teeth. ‘Too good to pull her off for anything else, certainly.’

  ‘Why should you?’ Charlie had the feeling they were coming to the point of the conversation at last.

  ‘Exactly. The point is, until I get my factory built, my grapes have to be processed in Adelaide. I need another
boat to handle the crop.’

  Charlie said cautiously, ‘I suppose you can buy one. Or contract a steamer to carry the grapes for you. That’s how it works with most landowners.’

  ‘We’re doing that already,’ Rufus said. ‘But it means being dependent on the carrier. I’ve another idea that I think might suit better.’

  The sound of a piano came from the big reception room. A few notes, then it ceased in a succession of discords. Children’s voices shouted, a shrill clamour that faded quickly. There was the sound of running feet. Then silence.

  ‘Mrs Trask said they were shy with each other at first.’ Rufus smiled. ‘They seem to have got over it.’

  ‘She told me they would,’ Charlie said.

  ‘It’s a question of trust, I suppose,’ Rufus said. ‘I hope that you and I can also come to trust each other. It would be appropriate, I believe. Armstrongs have been involved with Eagle on the Hill from the beginning, just as Grenvilles have. I know all about your quarrel with my father. I don’t want to reopen old wounds but, as I said, his ways aren’t mine. I’d like to think we might exist on more amicable terms in the future.’

  ‘Suits me,’ Charlie said. Although he hadn’t a clue what the bloke was on about, half the time. ‘No point fightin’ each other.’

  ‘I was hoping you’d feel like that.’

  And there they left it, with a slap on the shoulder as Rufus escorted Charlie back to the terrace.

  ‘I’ll pick Alex up tonight,’ Charlie said.

  Rufus nodded. ‘There’s a story the old man is never tired of telling. Did you really steal his horse in Adelaide?’

  Charlie looked at him. Trust might be growing between them, but it wasn’t there yet. ‘I never knew where he got that idea from.’

  Rufus laughed and again slapped Charlie’s shoulder. ‘Careful,’ he said. ‘I like it.’

  And watched Charlie’s back as he headed away down the slope.

  CHAPTER 37

  When Charlie told Sarah what Rufus had said, she was as perplexed as he was.

  ‘I reckon he’s goin’ to offer us the contract to ship his grapes to Edward’s Crossing,’ Charlie said.

  Sarah was less interested in that than in Rufus’s mention of the girls’ college in Adelaide. ‘What d’you think he was gettin’ at?’

  Charlie thought that part had been no more than casual conversation, but Sarah didn’t believe it.

  ‘Blokes like ’im don’ go in for casual conversation.’

  Yet that evening, when Charlie walked back up the slope to collect their daughter, nothing more was said.

  ‘I told you,’ Charlie said when he and Alex got back on board.

  He had expected Sarah to be disappointed, but she showed no sign of it.

  ‘Give him time,’ she said.

  Meanwhile Alex was full of the day she’d had: the games they’d played, the hide and seek, the chase through the storerooms of the big house.

  ‘I hope you didn’t mess anything up,’ Sarah said.

  Alex was indignant. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘Tell me what it’s like inside,’ Sarah asked Charlie later. How much she would have liked to see the house for herself. Perhaps one day, if relations between the families continued to improve, she would. In the meantime she had to make do with questions. What colour carpets did they have? What sort of curtains? What type of gown had Mrs Grenville been wearing?

  She got little joy from Charlie’s answers. He’d seen nothing of Mrs Grenville. As for the room where Rufus and he had talked … there’d been two desks, one covered with papers; that much he remembered. Also a machine for writing letters.

  As though Sarah or any woman would be interested in that!

  He offered her the consolation prize of the silver coffee pot, but as for how old it was, how would he know? And the carpets and curtains …

  ‘Haven’t a clue.’

  Which made Sarah sniff. ‘I’d better come with you next time,’ she declared. ‘Have a look for myself.’

  ‘Why don’t you?’

  It made no odds to Charlie. And Rufus had certainly asked him to look in again the next time he was passing. ‘Alex is company for Martin,’ he explained.

  Yet when it came to the point, Sarah would never go without an invitation.

  Two weeks later, Sarah watched her husband and daughter as they walked up the slope towards the golden house on Alex’s next visit.

  Luke was standing beside her. He might have resented being left out but fortunately had been invited to spend time with a mate of his, a boy of his own age called Josh, one of a litter of children whose father, Max Duggan, had been at the meeting of owners who years before had talked and talked about Titan and done nothing.

  Luke would be off in the morning. It wouldn’t be much of a break. But he was happy; who wanted to go to a stuck-up house, anyway?

  Sarah had been hoping that this time Charlie would have more to tell her about the house and its contents, but he had more important things to talk about.

  ‘Rufus wants us to sell him Brenda and work for the Grenvilles. Carry their grape harvest in season, the rest of the time go on tradin’ as we are now.’

  ‘Workin’ for ourselves?’

  ‘Of course not. Workin’ for them.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘I said I’d think about it.’

  Charlie sounded less than enthusiastic. It wasn’t surprising. A weekly wage had its advantages, certainly, but the idea of working for any Grenville — even Rufus — stuck in Charlie’s throat.

  He had other news too.

  ‘Given any more thought to your daughter’s education?’ Rufus had said.

  ‘Can’t afford that sort of thing. Besides, what would she do with it? Won’t help her drive a river boat, will it?’

  ‘Do you see that as a job for her? There are other opportunities for an educated woman, surely. You want her to have a fulfilling life, don’t you?’

  Well, yes. Whatever fulfilling might mean. But the problem of cost remained.

  Yet apparently it might not be such a problem after all.

  ‘A man who worked for me in a senior role, one of my captains …’ Rufus straightened his brocade waistcoat. ‘It might be possible to assist financially with a child’s education. In the appropriate circumstances.’

  ‘I couldn’t do it for one and not the other,’ Charlie said. ‘There’s Luke, too, don’t forget.’

  But it seemed that would not be a problem either. It was a lame excuse, in any case. Luke was as academic as a fence post, whereas Alex …

  Charlie still felt uneasy about the idea. It was a generous offer — if that was what it was — but dangerous too. Say yes and he’d be tied forever. He wasn’t sure he wanted to make that kind of commitment to anyone, let alone Rufus Grenville.

  ‘I’d never be able to call my life my own,’ he had said to the trees as he walked down the slope to the landing. Trouble was, turn down Rufus’s offer and he’d be turning down Alex’s future too. Did he have that right?

  He and Sarah talked it over for hours, getting nowhere. Charlie found it hard to put into words how he felt about the idea when he wasn’t even sure himself. And Sarah wanted the best for Alex but wondered whether the price might not be too high.

  ‘You gotta decide this for yourself,’ she told him. ‘Regular pay’s not to be sneezed at. And the chance for Alex to get a good education … I’d be that proud. But you gotta live your own life, Charlie. I’m not sure you’d be happy, workin’ for Rufus Grenville. It’s not as though his old man’s dead, either.’

  It was what he’d wanted to hear, yet still he doubted. ‘And Alex?’

  Sarah looked out of the window at the river flowing silently past. A parrot flew screeching on emerald wings. ‘Alex will make out fine, whatever we decide. But you … it was the whole man I married. I wouldn’t want nuthun to alter that.’

  Charlie found it so hard to decide what was right. To sacrifice his own futu
re for the sake of independence was one thing. To sacrifice Alex would be another matter altogether.

  That evening he collected Alex from the big house. She was full of Martin, and how he’d played the piano for her again, and what Mrs Trask had given them for their lunch, and what a great time she’d had. All evening she bent their ears about it until they were sick of hearing her. Sarah packed her off to bed at nine sharp, as the only way of shutting her up.

  In the morning they left Luke with the Duggans, who had arrived late the previous evening, and went on downriver. There had been storms in the interior and all day the current had been as turbulent as Charlie’s thoughts, eddying this way and that, opening periodically to reveal the rocks below the surface. He remembered Alex scampering through the big house on Martin’s heels, feet clattering on the marble floors. She would never have been inside the place had Martin’s near-drowning not opened the door for her. Did he have the right to slam that door in her face, just because he didn’t want to work for someone else?

  You want her to have a fulfilling life, don’t you? Rufus’s words. And Rufus had been right.

  Brenda entered a tight bend, where the red gums crowded close, cutting off the light. The steering chains rumbled as Charlie put the wheel hard over, using his foot against the spokes to heave the heavy craft around. These bends put a huge strain on the chains, but it couldn’t be helped. They had to follow where the river led. Where life led.

  Water and gum trees suited Charlie very well, but did he really want his daughter to spend all her life on the river? And would she want to, now her eyes had been opened by the reality of the big house? From the time she could walk it had fascinated her, standing so proudly on its ridge. Eagle on the Hill … Now she had been inside and her world had changed.

  There was no substitute for education. It opened up opportunities that she would never have otherwise, the possibility of seeing other places, other countries, even. To learn about art, music, all the finer things … He had heard young Martin playing the piano so wonderfully. It had opened his own eyes to possibilities that might be beyond his own reach but would certainly be possible for Alex. If he gave her the chance.