Jessica looked up in shock, as the plane circled the watchers and then manoeuvered until it was above the car. She could not see what the plane was doing, but the men kept driving and then, suddenly, someone yelled, “Look out!” From the plane came something that Jessica thought looked like a bomb. Voices rose as others tried to warn the driver and a few soft shrieks were heard.
Jessica held her breath as the package fell, right over the car, and then, with a soft “plop”, burst into a cloud of white, all over the driver and passenger. “Good shot,” someone roared and the crowd began to laugh.
The bombing raid was repeated, and this time, the flour bomb landed in the middle of a group of spectators. Splat! Jessica laughed because they looked so silly, spluttering through the flour, but she was pleased that she wasn’t one of them.
The Amateur Pilot’s Handicap was next, and everyone hoped someone local would win. But a pilot from Brewarrina won in a Moth. Major de Havilland was next in his Black Hawk, a spectacle Jessica had been looking forward to. It was as exciting as promised.
Much more agile than the Wapitis, the Hawk zoomed and looped, dropped into the death dive and flew upside down. Jessica’s jaw was open so long that her mouth filled with red dust.
There was even a parachute drop, although this event had only been agreed by the Military authorities the afternoon before. A real person wasn’t used, only a dummy stuffed with sand. He landed safely, within ten feet of the aerodrome ring.
Jessica cheered, then had to go and help with checking pilots for a professional handicap. “Golly,” she overheard, “look at those joy flights. Don’t you wish you could go up in one?”
Jessica knew there would be planes taking passengers up to look around, but she’d been too busy to think about it. Now, however, she turned to see the queues waiting for their rides. “Oh, I wish I was one of them. I wonder …”But the cost was high, one pound and ten shillings, and her pocket money was only 6d per week. She had nowhere near enough in her moneybox. She wasn’t sure if she should ask her father to help her with the price. He had already been so good to involve her in this pageant and the Aero Club.
But oh, it would be so wonderful just to actually leave the ground and feel the air around her, see the envious faces below, see what the town looked like from on high.
And most of all, actually sit in the seat of a Moth in the air.
As she watched, she realised that the first day was coming to an end. Her excitement had kept her going, but now she began to droop. She had a few jobs to help with, so she walked over to her father and began to round up the boys who were going to mind the planes overnight.
The cars started to leave the ground, puffs of dust following them and excited voices wafting back. It was just dark when Jessica arrived home for dinner; as they said in school essays ‘tired but happy’. She chatted over dinner, telling her mother all about the planes, the amazing feats and the flour bombing, but her voice began to slow and she almost drifted into sleep over her dessert.
Her father carried her up to bed and said, “Don’t forget, we’ve still got tomorrow to get through. See you in the morning.” She fell asleep half way through her good night.
Chapter Thirteen
Narromine, April 1930
Jessica was a little less bouncy when she woke on Sunday. Because of the morning start, she and Dad were due at the airstrip after an early breakfast. She yawned through her mother’s attempts to ‘set her up for the day with some protein’ and she only began to come alive in the car.
Billy bounced up and down in the back seat, rattling on about the cars he’d seen the day before. Cars when there were planes to watch? Jessica shook her head and sighed. Boys!
Today she had to check in pilots for two races. The program was the same as the previous day and she perked up when the Wapitis began their circling of the aerodrome. Today Mr Fletcher, who’d flown in the war, took charge of the flour bombing and on one occasion, managed to hit the bonnet of the car. Everyone cheered loudly. Two more attempts just missed and the sighs of disappointment could be heard above the roar of the engines.
She was glad she had little to do when Major de Havilland took to the skies again, as she wanted to concentrate on every move he made. The death drop was breathtaking, and the upside-down flying had her heart in her mouth until he righted the plane and circled down to land.
She had more time today to pay attention to the balloon strafing by Captain Follett in his Gipsy Moth and Captain Hammond in his Westland Widgeon. For this, large balloons were floated in the air and the pilots had to dive and burst them. They only failed once and the spectators roared their pleasure with each bang.
Halfway through the morning, Jessica’s Dad came to collect her. “Come, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
“All right.”
They walked over to where the planes were parked and Dad said, “You remember Mr Holden?” Jessica did — he’d been the pilot of the DH 61 biplane Canberra that found Charles Kingsford Smith when he’d been lost in Western Australia. He was a favourite in Narromine and knew members of the Aero Club well.
“Hello, Jessica,” Mr Holden held out his hand and shook hers gently. She smiled at him, wondering what was going to happen next. “Your Dad and I think you deserve a flight. Would you like to come up with me?”
“Oh, would I …” she ran out of words, then suddenly, “but I haven’t got enough money. It’s very expensive.”
The two men laughed. “It’s fixed,” said Mr Holden. “Don’t worry about it.” Dad didn’t like them to take favours, without paying or offering something in return, so she looked at him, worried whether he would agree with this.
“It’s fine, Jess, go up and have a great time.”
“Now?”
“Yes, right now.”
“Oh,” her face filled with wonder, she could not even move towards the plane.
“Come now, chop chop,” said Mr Holden, edging closer to the wing. So she let him lift her into the seat and get her settled before he swung himself into the pilot’s seat. “Now, first, it’s cold and windy up there, so take that hat and pull it down over your ears. Then brace yourself for takeoff.”
She did exactly as she was told, looking around to fix everything in her mind. She wanted to remember every second, every smell, every sound, every sight. Her first flight! The biplane taxied towards the runway and she felt it shudder slightly beneath her, the flaps adjusting to Mr Holden’s controls. The engine roared until the sound made her ears hurt and then, with a bump, it began to lift. There was this strange kind of silence and the ground seemed to drop away, leaving the plane stationary. Her stomach lurched and seemed to stay behind on the ground before catching up with her body.
She watched the airstrip fall away beneath her, amazed how everything was growing smaller. And smaller. She looked over the edge as Mr Holden circled. The land around the airstrip was packed and she could see the rows and rows of cars in the dusty park as the plane rose. Higher and higher. The air felt icy at this height and it whistled through the hat into her ears. The ground was far away and everything tiny.
Then the plane banked left and within a few seconds, they were over Argyle Station. She looked down. “Oh.” She had no idea the property looked like that from the air. She could see her house, white and gleaming, with its red tiled roof, surrounded by the vegetable gardens and the orchard. As they came closer, she saw her mother and Elspeth in the garden, looking upwards, their eyes shaded. She waved madly, hoping they saw.
Her mother lifted her arm, and waved even wider, grabbing Elspeth’s and waving it in the air too. A few feet away, Mr Gibson stopped digging and waved as well. She waved back, peering over to see what else she could recognise. The paddocks of sheep and the red fields of newly planted wheat looked like something from a child’s toy, all tiny, neat and square. She saw the Lodge of her grandparents, but no one came out to wave.
She looked towards the other houses on the property. They were des
erted today as everyone was at the pageant. The shearing shed and shearers’ quarters were a mix of shiny tin and rust, the gravelled roads with trees, the peppercorn and eucalypts towering above the others, on either side. And the stables, with their tin roofs as well. She recognised her favourite horse, Cabbage, in the field and waved to it. It continued to graze, ignoring the noisy machine above.
Then they passed on towards the town itself. It was not much more than a village, gazetted (as they all learned in school) in the early nineteenth century. The layout was clear from the air. The road came straight in from the east, then turned a right angle along the main street, Dandaloo, before turning left and running west, towards Bourke. The railway line was almost beside the road and ran through the centre of the town.
To the south, a road headed towards Peak Hill and Parkes. And everything was square, like a grid. Houses were lined up on either side, with tin and tiled roofs. As they circled around, she could see the park, and further north, the Macquarie River, with the bridge that crossed it just outside the town. Much better than the maps they drew in class, she thought. Now she understood what the town looked like.
As they flew further towards the west, she could see the flat plains spread out before them, miles and miles of almost nothing just farms and occasionally some houses, with clumps of trees around them. There were citrus orchards, lucerne fields and the silver Macquarie River meandering along beside them. The summer rains had left everything lush. Someone once said that the only crop that didn’t grow in Narromine was the one that hadn’t been planted and from this viewpoint, Jessica could well believe it.
They had done a complete circuit and began to slow down for the landing. Jessica wasn’t sure if she was excited by what she’d seen or disappointed that it was almost over. The engine hiccoughed a couple of times and the landing wheels hit the airstrip, shuddering along to a neat halt. When the plane itself stopped, the engine noise continued as the propeller slowed down and stopped to sudden silence.
Jessica stayed put until Mr Holden came to help her out and down. Her legs felt clumsy, as if they no longer belonged to her and she took time to get safely onto the ground. She slowly took off the hat and handed it to Mr Holden, wanting to prolong the experience. She smiled at him, her eyes wide with excitement. “Oh, thank you,” she could not think of anything more to say. Maybe later she could speak about it, but at this moment all she wanted to do was remain in the dream.
Hazily she wandered off straight to her father who looked over her head at Mr Holden. They smiled at each other and shook hands, pleased with the success of their treat. Her father led her to a tent where various members of the committee were busy with pieces of paper. He put her into a chair and gave her a drink from the picnic basket. She drank it without saying a word, her eyes shining and her mind full of the memory of the flight.
After a while she came out of her daze, slightly. Around her was the buzz of men’s voices as they discussed the pageant. “A huge success.” “The best country air pageant in Australia.” “Puts Narromine on the aerial map.” They were pleased. And even more so when Captain Follett described the pageant as the “most successful ever held in Australia”.
Jessica could hear Mr Perry and Mr Fletcher being congratulated by everyone. The Narromine Aero Club was a great success and already talking of what it would do next.
But for Jessica, the weekend was over. Nothing could beat the flight and she wanted to sit and dream about it; how everything looked from above, how the plane bucked and dipped when it flew. She wanted to hang on to what that felt like, the icy winds through her hair and ears, the sounds of the engine. She wanted to remember every second of it.
Even when the official program was over, only a few people left. Others stayed to have a closer look at the planes, to talk to the pilots and to keep going up on joy flights. The continual buzzing of the planes could be heard until late on Sunday.
That night, the pilots who’d come for the pageant were being treated to a dinner at the Federal Hotel. Being a Sunday, Mr Perry didn’t allow too much hilarity, but it was a great time and toasts were drunk to everyone as well as awards to pilots who had won races.
Jessica’s dad went, but Jessica went to bed, early. No family dinner was held that day as Dad had arranged for her grandparents to be asked to dinner out at Buddah where they would be further from the sounds of the planes and could disapprove as much as they liked. Well, as much as Grandfather liked. Gran smiled sweetly and said “Yes, dear”, to his comments.
The next morning, tired but with the glow of excitement, she said to her father, “By the time I can get my licence, will there still be things for pilots to do for the first time? They’ve crossed most of the continents, and the oceans. So where do they go next?”
“Oh yes, now they’ve proved planes can do these things, that flight is useful, the next stage is to show how useful - for mail, for passengers, for freight. It’s all to come, Jessica, and you’re the right age to be part of it all.”
“I see,” she said and went back to learning all she would need, still holding in her mind the minute by minute memory of her flight.
Chapter Fourteen
Narromine, November 1931
Jessica decided that families were just the pits. At least hers was. Not only were they around all the time, but they wanted to control her life. It was, ”Sit up straight” and ”If you’ve finished, put your cutlery together on your plate.“ And ”Don’t run! Ladies don’t run. You’re like a hoyden” and “It’s ‘May I?’ not ‘Can I?’’.
Everyone did it, all the time. It was like being in a prison. Then, there was Grandfather, the family despot, who thought he had the right to decide everything; her schooling, her future, her behaviour. He had a view on every single thing and, whatever anyone else thought, his opinion was always right.
Her parents were all right, but they just let it happen. Dad might say one despot in the family was enough, but sometimes even he couldn’t protect the children from Grandfather. And then there were Billy and Elspeth, both of whom seemed to have been put on earth to annoy her.
Elspeth had always been an obstinate child, with firm ideas and few words. The ones she preferred, however, were both loud and very clear. “Mine” and “No” were two of her favourites. Her latest passion was for two stripy grey kittens she had saved from a watery grave, and brought home to live inside. Cats in Jessica’s family were not pets, but working animals, like the dogs. They lived in barns and sheds, never inside. But Elspeth was determined that her two cats were going to be pets, and they were going to sleep on her bed, whatever anyone said.
Grandfather was equally determined they should not. It was not as if he even lived in the house with them. Talk about tyrants! Jessica agreed with Elspeth on that; it was their home and they should be able to set the rules. Mum and Dad would probably give in to Elspeth, but Grandfather put his foot down; the “I’m head of this family and I will decide” speech.
It put Jessica more firmly on Elspeth’s side. And besides, kittens were fun. Sometimes annoying, but still fun. Elspeth simply refused to budge. “My kittens. Stay with me,” she told Grandfather, as she walked off to her bedroom and shut the door, leaving him blustering and roaring in the dining room.
After he left, her parents burst out laughing. “Oh dear,” said Mum. “It’s like the clash of two titans, neither prepared to give way.”
Well, Elspeth can’t really — she either wins the argument or loses the kittens. I wonder what we should call them? Kit One and Kit Two? Cain and Abel? Castor and Pollux? Any idea what sex they are?”
“No, she won’t let me get that close. So what are you going to do about your father?”
“Nothing for the time being. Try my mother’s trick. Wait while he calms down, ignore it and hope he forgets. Then if he doesn’t, I’ll remind him she’s my daughter and if she really wants a pet, it’s my decision.” So, Elspeth got to keep her kittens and everyone made sure they were kept well out of Grandf
ather’s way.
But unfortunately, the kittens didn’t keep out of Jessica’s. They demolished a couple of schoolbooks before anyone noticed, happily ripping and chewing pages until the floor was covered in confetti.
“Can’t you even control her!” shrieked Jessica as she stormed off somewhere where there were aeroplanes.
And then there was Billy — not to mention cousin Charles. They managed to sneak the tractor off for an illicit drive and overturn it on the edge of a dam, half burying themselves in mud and breaking various limbs in the process until rescued a couple of hours later.
Grandfather was all for belting the pair of them, especially Charles whose father had died before he was born. (Grandfather thought he should stand in as a parent figure and spoiling the rod …).
Dad pointed out that it would be hard to belt either of them with the broken bones and perhaps they’d suffered enough. And — he crossed two fingers behind his back — they might even learn a lesson from their adventure.
Certainly, the accident should persuade them that tractors were not toys. He did not say so to Grandfather, but he had every intention of making sure that lesson stuck in their minds. Whether they had learned anything, or whether they were in enough pain to seem meek and mild, nobody knew, but the two boys behaved well for the next few weeks.
So, with all that happening, nobody had been taking much notice of Jessica. They don’t care about me, she told herself, all they care about are Billy and Elspeth. It’s not fair.
Jessica’s problem had been consuming her for a couple of months. At the beginning of the year, she thought it was all a long way off, but in September, she realised she only had one term left of school and then she was expected to go — happily — to boarding school in Sydney. All the Mackay females had gone to the Presbyterian Ladies College in Pymble, Sydney, for their secondary schooling. And, according to her grandfather, they had enjoyed every minute and had returned home as well educated ladies. It might be a well-known and respected school, but Jessica thought it would be a complete waste of her time. Besides, who wanted to be a lady? She was sure it was a very nice school, and that she would get a good education, but that was not the point.
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