‘Well, I’ve got to say, that’s all really interesting.’
‘Does it help with your piece of jewellery?’ Mr Oakes asked hopefully.
‘I’ll have to do a bit of research, but any information about the reserve is going to be useful.’ Not sure how useful, Dave thought, but any information was good at the moment, when he had nothing.
‘What about other neighbours, can you remember if they’re the same families that are around now?’
‘That’s testing me memory a bit. Back then, people were transient. Not people who owned land as such—although there are farms in the area which are fifth generation owned. But life’s no different to today. If they didn’t pay their bills, they got kicked off. Or not even that. Some of them just walked away when they couldn’t afford to stay. Workers would drift in and out and, like we talked about before, there were the merchants. And the swaggies and the shearers. Transient, as I said.’
Dave nodded, then he realised Mr Oakes couldn’t see him. ‘I’ve heard of that happening.’ He paused. ‘What about the Taylor family? Were they on Shandona back then?’
‘Now that was owned by Evelyn and Leo, wasn’t it?’
‘If their son was Tom, then yes.’
‘Yeah, I know of Tom. Evelyn was older’n me. But my she was pretty. Not as pretty as my girl, but pretty. And Leo seemed like a good solid farmer. We used to play tennis together on Sunday afternoons. Had a pretty good social crowd, but we never caught up anymore’n that.’
Dave waited until he’d heard the whole of the farming biography before he asked again, ‘So the family owned and lived on Shandona back in the early 1900s? When these other people were living on the reserve?’
A low hissing came down the line as Mr Oakes was silent for a moment, before saying, ‘You know what, there was a fight about that reserve. I remember it now. Me dad and ma, they got all worried about it. Gawd, I’d forgotten all about it.
‘The Taylor family got some kind of long-term lease from the government. Dunno how it worked, but it was ninety-nine years and a peppercorn lease.
‘I reckon there was a fight between the Taylors and this family who was camping on the reserve, with old man Taylor trying to get ’em off it.’
‘What type of a fight?’
‘Fight as in he asked them to leave and they wouldn’t. P’haps incident is a better word. I don’t remember hearing anything about it getting physical or anything but I mightn’t’ve heard about that. Remember, I was just a whippersnapper back then. But,’ he lowered his voice conspiratorially, ‘what I did used to do is, when there was something different going on and Ma and Dad were talking about it, after us kids had gone to bed, I’d sneak out and listen. They never saw me. That’s how I heard so much. But I don’t remember there being anything said about him hurting them, but he certainly threatened them. He wanted them off his land.
‘Funny, though,’ he continued. ‘They never seemed like the type of people to back down from a fight.’
‘And then one day the squatters just weren’t there?’ Dave asked.
‘Yeah, just like that.’
Chapter 18
Chelsea had spent the last hour looking at the box her father had given her, wondering what secrets were inside. What answers did it hold? And did she want to find out?
Tori said that when it came to someone’s secrets it was sometimes kinder not to know about them. The trouble was that Chelsea knew there was at least one secret her mum had kept, because her dad had said she’d understand one day. Now was that day if she chose to open the lid on the box. Would it make any difference now? Would it bring any peace?
With shaking hands, she opened the lid and looked inside. On the top there was a journal, which she took out and laid on the bed. Then there was a photo album and another journal. One by one, she laid them next to each other. Three small jewellery boxes and four large scrapbooks, a plastic folder full of documents. The cover was clear and the paper on top was her parents’ marriage certificate.
Thomas Leo Taylor married Philippa Teresa Kent on the 21st of May 1980 at the Barker Church, South Australia.
She looked underneath it and saw a death certificate.
Name: Philippa Teresa Taylor
Place of Birth: Jamestown Hospital
Date of Birth: 6th March 1955
Date of Death: 19th August 2015
Place of Death: Shandona Farm, Hunter Road, Barker, South Australia
Cause of Death: Heart failure
Married: Yes
Date of Marriage: 21st May 1980
Spouse: Thomas Leo Taylor
Children (Living): Chelsea Philippa Taylor (Born: 15th September 1988)
Children (Deceased): Dale Baxter Taylor (Born: 9th June 1982 – Death: Dec. 5th January 2006)
Crystal Grace Taylor (Born: 29th June 1984 – Death: Dec. 29th June 1984)
Andrew John Taylor (Born: 4th June 1986 – Death: Dec. 4th June 1986)
Carefully, Chelsea put the page down on the bed and reread it to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake.
There were two other children on the death certificate Chelsea had never heard of. How did they die?
Getting up, she went to find her dad. She was going to ask. It was time they sat down and discussed everything; from her decision to go to the Conservatorium to these babies, Dale’s death, the reason she didn’t get home for the funeral. She’d already explained that, but she was almost sure he hadn’t taken it in or remembered.
‘Dad?’
Aria was still asleep on the floor and her hat had fallen to one side. Picking it up, she placed it gently on the sleeping girl’s face and went in search of her father. There was no answer when she called out at the door of his bedroom and she’d already looked in the office.
Outside, the sun was beginning to sink below the hills surrounding the house, casting long dark shadows across the gumtree-lined creeks. The range glowed a dark purple, getting deeper with the sun’s movement towards the horizon. Out near the hills, there was a haze of dust, rising skywards, as the sheep came into the troughs for their nightly drink. Today’s heat must have finally dried the land out enough for the dust to be raised.
Other than the occasional sheep baaing and galah calls, Chelsea couldn’t hear anything. With Scout alongside her, she walked towards Cal’s house, wondering if he was home yet. Then she saw the motorbike was missing from the garage. Her dad had obviously gone to check a trough. He’d mentioned earlier that he’d have to and, without Aria, the bike would have been quicker and easier.
Tonight it would be nice to have someone to talk to. A friend. Just to ask whether, if it were them, would they read the journals in the box. Tori’s words had echoed in her ears since she’d opened it. ‘Sometimes you’re better off not knowing.’
And these children who were her brother and sister … She shook her head, unable to believe she didn’t know about them. Why wouldn’t her mum have told her she’d had other children who hadn’t survived?
The spot where Cal usually parked his vehicle was empty, so she assumed he was still with his family. Did he have to work tomorrow? She wasn’t sure but she assumed not.
Her dad used to settle in and watch the Boxing Day cricket Test, so maybe he’d do that again and Cal wouldn’t come home tonight.
She continued to walk down towards the house dam, past the poly-tank and machinery sheds. The ground was stony and the thongs she was wearing were proving unsuitable. As she bent down to pull a stick out from under her toe, she realised her whole foot was purple from the dust on the road.
The corners of her mouth lifted upwards because, for once, it felt like home.
It was dark by the time she returned to the house to find Aria curled up watching a Christmas movie on TV, her hat on her head.
‘I lost you!’ Aria said. ‘I couldn’t find you or Scout. Or Papa.’
‘I was outside, going for a walk. I didn’t plan to be gone this long. You okay?’
Aria nodded.
‘Thought you would be. Are you hungry? It’s almost teatime.’
‘My tummy is still full!’
Chelsea laughed. ‘Well, how about a bit of cold meat and bread? Or should we just wait until Papa comes home?’
‘Wait.’
‘Okay. We’ll wait.’
The items on her bed were pulling her back towards her room and she wondered if she could look at a couple more things before she had to get tea, but the phone rang then, the outside bell announcing the call. She wondered if she should let the answering machine pick up but decided against it and went into her father’s office.
‘Hello?’
‘Chelsea?’
Chelsea frowned, no one would be calling her here. None of her Sydney friends had the number for Shandona. She hadn’t been and still wasn’t keen to talk to anyone.
‘Yes,’ she answered cautiously.
‘It’s Lily.’
Relief flooded through her. ‘Lily, hi. Merry Christmas.’
‘Same to you. Had a nice day?’
‘Hmm, it’s been very quiet, but in a nice way. What about you?’
‘It’s been a great day! Busy, with the kids, but really enjoyable. Kids make Christmas, don’t they?’
Chelsea stopped and thought about that. She remembered Christmas lunches with ten or fifteen people around the table. Aunties and uncles. Cousins and orphans. Orphans were people who didn’t have anywhere else to go on the day. There were always two or three of them. There’d been laughter and high spirits around the table back then. Not the stilted silences of today.
‘Yes, they do.’
‘How’s your dad?’
‘He wasn’t too bad today,’ Chelsea answered, realising that apart from his piano playing, he had been pretty good. He’d laughed with Aria and pulled the crackers with her, helping with her paper crown. He’d read out the terrible jokes in a playful voice, laughing loudly at the punchlines. There hadn’t been any memory lapses that she’d noticed.
And the piano—well, it was easy enough to forget the notes to a song if you hadn’t played it in years. ‘He played the piano. I had to remind him of the right notes, but that was okay. In fact, he was happy I helped him, I think. Do you remember how we always used to sing when you came out here and stayed overnight?’
‘Yeah. And how we used to watch Rage on Saturday mornings and we’d try and copy the dances from the video clips?’
Chelsea could hear the smile in her voice.
‘Yeah, I do! What about that song …’ she hummed a few bars. ‘What was it?’
‘“All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You” by Heart,’ Lily said quickly.
‘That’s it! I remember singing that at the tops of our voices. God knows what Mum thought about the lyrics! They’ve got a whole new meaning now we’ve grown up.’
Lily giggled. ‘I know. But we had fun around the piano too. If it wasn’t you belting it out on the piano, it was your dad. And you’d get annoyed when he hogged it for too long!’
‘Then Mum would turn up with netball exercises and try to get us to go outside and practise.’ A thought struck her. ‘Tell me you don’t make your kids play netball?’
Lily laughed. ‘None of my kids are old enough yet, but no, I’ll never force them to play. Every time I go to a sports day and I hear a mum yelling “Run faster!” or “Come on, you’re better than that!”, I see your mum.’
‘I know, right? Alongside that netball court, running up and down. “Come on, Chels, Lily’s there. Share the ball around, girls! Oh, come on! You can do better than that!”’ She took a breath. ‘I hated it.’
‘All the other girls loved her enthusiasm. And her.’
‘As you and I know, I’m not all the other girls. Never have been.’
‘No,’ Lily answered quietly. ‘Nope, you’re certainly not.’
‘Lily, did you go to my mum’s funeral?’ Chelsea stood looking out the window into the darkness. The birds had stopped talking with the sun’s setting and now the crickets had taken over, their loud chirps echoing around the river. The leaves of the gums lifted and fell in time with the gentle breeze.
‘Yeah, I did.’ Lily’s voice grew quieter. ‘You didn’t.’ It was a statement rather than a question. Of course Lily knew she hadn’t gone.
‘No.’ Chelsea looked down at the floor.
‘Do you want to tell me why?’
‘Would it make any difference? I’m sure you’ve already got an opinion, like the rest of town.’
‘That’s not true. All I know is you weren’t there. Your dad was distraught, but Cal was there to help him. I’m sure you had your reasons.’
‘I feel like everyone judges me; they do, don’t they? I saw their looks at the pageant. I’d been hoping …’ Her voice broke unexpectedly, but she charged on. ‘I’d been hoping it would be different. That I could come home and feel like Barker really was my home. But I can’t. Everything is so familiar but so strange. Dad is different, the town is different, so are you. Shandona is the only place I feel at home. Even here, sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t. I don’t really know why I thought I could just slot back in.’
‘Of course we’re different. We’ve all had things happen to us that have altered who we are. And we’ve grown up.’ Lily took a breath. ‘You sound so lost, Chels. I’ve missed you.’
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Chelsea said, ‘I’ve missed you too,’ and she was surprised when she realised she meant it.
‘The funeral was lovely as funerals go,’ Lily told her after they’d both got their emotions under control. ‘There was a wreath of roses, I think they were yellow, and a photo of her on the coffin. It was of her sitting in one of the creeks.’
‘The same as the one on the order of service?’
‘Yeah. That’s it. I think most of the community came—probably at least four hundred people. I know it was one of the larger ones the town has had.’
‘What building houses that many people?’ Chelsea wondered aloud as she sat down on the couch to listen.
‘It was held in the town hall. You’ve got to remember, it wasn’t just the netball club Pip was involved in. There was the tennis club and more recently she’d started up a squash club from scratch. She’d raised the money to build the court and organised everything almost singlehandedly. And don’t forget the bowls club.’
‘Bowls?’ Then she remembered what her dad had told her about that night—he’d been at bowls.
‘Bowls,’ Lily confirmed. ‘Every Tuesday night when pennants were on, she’d be down there competing or working behind the bar. So, all of those people went, along with the farming community. It was packed.’
Chelsea glanced over at Aria, who was still sitting on the couch watching TV, so she started to walk out of the room. ‘Um, where … where is she buried?’ Her voice was low.
There was a shocked silence. ‘Haven’t you talked to your dad about any of this?’
‘No.’ From her tone, Chelsea could tell Lily was incredulous. She didn’t bother to defend her actions. This was her oldest friend. She hoped there’d be no judgement. ‘No, not at all. He hasn’t been at all open towards me and we haven’t got to this particular conversation yet. Oh, there’re times when I see a glimpse of who he was before Dale died, but he’s a closed book mostly. Doesn’t let anyone in or talk about anything emotional. In fact, he’s still angry with me, which is probably why he’s not talking much.
‘But, on the upside, he’s given me a cardboard box full of journals and other memorabilia and told me I should have a look at them. I think the problems go back to when I was being ratty at the Conservatorium. I’ve never told you, Lily, but I think Mum blamed me for nearly sending them broke. They had to borrow more money to send me there and then I didn’t work as hard as I should’ve and we never got back on track from there. I was distant, so was she. Dale died and that was it.’ She paused. ‘But what if there’s more in the box? Another reason?’
‘God, Chels. Have you looked at i
t?’
Chelsea shook her head, then rolled her eyes at herself. ‘No. Not yet.’
She jumped as there was a loud banging on the door. ‘Shit!’ Her hand flew to her chest and she ran towards the sound.
‘What?’
‘There’s someone here.’ Holding the phone, she reached the door and pulled it open. It was Cal.
‘Hi,’ he said with a smile, which disappeared when he saw her face. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, yeah, fine. Just got a fright. I wasn’t expecting anyone at the door!’
‘Hello, Cal.’ Aria appeared at her mother’s side, smiling up at him.
‘Well, hello there, little lady. How was your Christmas?’
As Aria excitedly told Cal all about her day, Chelsea promised to ring Lily back and ended the phone call. She put the phone back in the cradle and waited until Aria had stopped chattering, then asked how Cal’s day had been.
‘Nice,’ he replied. ‘All my family were there for lunch. Mum cooked up the usual feast. Sounds like you guys had a good one too.’ He indicated to Aria. ‘So I was just looking for your dad.’
Chelsea glanced at her watch; it was nearly nine o’clock. ‘The motorbike’s gone, so I assumed he was out checking sheep.’
Cal’s forehead creased into a deep frown. ‘In the dark?’
‘Uh, well,’ Chelsea stumbled as she realised there was a problem. ‘He left in the light.’
‘If he’s not back now, something’s wrong. Come on.’
Chapter 19
The spotlights from the ute picked up the green glow of the sheep’s eyes and encouraged every moth and midge within a kilometre radius to bomb the globes. Cal swung the ute from side to side, creating an arc of light, hoping to catch a reflection of Tom’s bike, but there were so many places to look. Thirty-five square kilometres of land and not just flat country. It was rugged and hilly and covered with acacia trees, which hid everything from kangaroos and emus to cars that had run off the road, much less a motorbike. There were so many little dips and gullies, Tom could have been anywhere.
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