The Good Woman of Renmark

by Darry Fraser

  Dane stepped in. ‘Maggie was on Mr Finn’s boat, my love. He put her ashore just before it blew up.’

  ‘Oh, my dear girl.’ Georgina reached over to squeeze Maggie’s arm. ‘So sad. Mr Finn was such a lovely man. I am glad you are well despite it all.’

  ‘Pa,’ the little girl yelled in Dane’s ear. ‘Who is the lady?’

  Dane moved his head a little, relieving his ear. ‘I do beg your pardon, Miss MacHenry. Maggie, may I present my daughter, Miss Layla MacHenry. Layla, this is Maggie, your cousin.’

  Layla held out her hand and Maggie shook it. ‘I am pleased to meet you, Miss Layla.’

  ‘I’m three.’

  The blue eyes of the little girl were a mark of Maggie’s own family. Her gaze roved over Layla’s face, so recognisable even though they had only just met.

  ‘And these two ruffians,’ Dane said as the boys charged around his legs, ‘are Tom and Will.’

  The lads were replicas of Dane, and in that strange yet familiar way, of her father, and her brother. Maggie remembered vaguely why Dane didn’t carry the O’Rourke name, something about a stepfather before Liam came to claim his long-lost family, but she seemed to have forgotten the detail. The boys were polite in their greeting but almost too hasty as the dog grabbed their attention. ‘Is he ours, Pa? Can we have him?’

  Bucky sat, lavished with pats and scratches. He looked up at Maggie as if to tell her he’d just found heaven. His round golden eyes had all but glazed over. She wanted to laugh but tears still threatened. What on earth is the matter with me?

  ‘Dane, Mr Strike is due in any time now,’ Georgina said. ‘Let’s go sit in the cart while we wait for his boat, and for Sam. I have cake, and a flask of tea.’ She gave him a look as if she expected he would be pleased to hear that.

  ‘Cake,’ Dane said, a mock cry in his voice. ‘Finally, I have a wife who cooks.’

  She laughed. ‘Don’t be silly. Your mother sent it along.’

  The boys had taken off, and Bucky was keen to go, too. Dane gently put his daughter on her feet and tugged at Bucky. ‘Come on, lad,’ he said to the dog. ‘We have to have some cake.’

  Georgina took Layla’s hand and said over her shoulder, ‘Come along, Maggie. We can sit in the cart and wait in the shade.’

  They clambered onto the cart and Georgina doled out thick slices of lardy cake, which Maggie had to admire. Juicy pieces of fruit heavily dotted the cake, and it was spiced just right.

  ‘I hadn’t realised how hungry I was,’ Maggie said. ‘Feeding the men, I’ve not had much of an appetite till now,’ she told Georgina, and took a bite. Sweet and chewy, the flavours flooded her mouth.

  ‘You must tell me everything.’ She deposited Layla between them, the little girl happily entranced by her cake.

  ‘Goodness, where to start?’ Maggie asked after swallowing. ‘There seems so much.’

  Georgina peppered her with questions as Dane herded his boys out of the way to play. Maggie started off about her job at Renmark, and the irrigation system there. How the Chaffey brothers had employed her parents, and her, and after they’d left, how she stayed on … And then Robert Boyd … And after that, Sam— Sam. ‘And yes, Sam, well, he is a good friend of my brother.’

  Georgina seemed surprised. ‘Not your beau? When he visited us with Ard the first time after the family had got together, I got the impression—’ She stopped.

  Maggie shook her head. Her voice had stuck in her throat.

  ‘And how are your parents?’ Georgina asked hurriedly.

  Maggie was about to tell her about Eleanor and Lorcan, when the breezy whistle of a riverboat gliding in interrupted her.

  ‘There never seems enough time these days for me to catch up with everything, Maggie,’ Georgina cried, exasperated. ‘But you must visit us. I am told the men of the family have hatched a plan to make our two enterprises one entity. We’ll be starting a horse stud as well. I am most interested in that, and in all the plans. It’s so exciting, despite the terrible economic times. Are you interested?’

  ‘I am. But I’m also very much interested in starting my own enterprise.’

  ‘Oh, wonderful. We women should be earning our own money and making our way in the world. I love working for our business, certainly now that the awful morning sickness has subsided. Even better, I have a wage too. I just can’t have my own account at the bank, which is most inconvenient, and decidedly ludicrous.’

  ‘You work in the business, for wages? Even though you’re a mother, even all through your—’

  ‘Of course, Maggie. No one would dare stop me.’ Georgina laughed. ‘By the look on your face I’d say you haven’t considered that.’

  ‘Uh, no.’ Her thoughts began to leap.

  ‘But you must. You must keep working, in some capacity, even once you have children.’ Georgina looked at her. ‘Oh. What’s the matter? Are you all right?’

  ‘Weren’t you ever afraid? Aren’t you afraid now?’

  ‘Good heavens. What of?’

  ‘Of having babies,’ Maggie blurted, then mortified, glanced around to see if anyone had heard her.

  ‘Ah.’ Georgina patted Maggie’s hands. ‘I admit, once I found out I was having twins, I was petrified, but I was assured I was healthy enough to feed two. The hardest part after the most debilitating morning sickness—all day, I might add—was the birth itself. And Layla wasn’t easy either, and yet here I am going for another.’

  ‘My nephew Toby’s mother died just after he was born.’ Maggie couldn’t keep the shake from her voice.

  ‘Maggie,’ Georgina said firmly, ‘I’m told by Eleanor that the poor woman had been beaten up all her married life, all her pregnancy. And was most probably half-starved, as well. Toby is lucky Linley and Ard have him, and he’s so hale and hearty.’

  ‘Now Linley is soon to have a baby, and I worry that something might happen to her. My brother would be devastated.’ She clasped her hands. Breathless, all her fears seemed to rush to the surface. ‘We all would be.’

  Georgina tapped her own belly. ‘We are built for bringing babies into the world. And nature has her own way with each one of us. We are strong enough to bear it.’

  Maggie shredded the rest of her cake. ‘I know my ma had a baby born dead, even though I’m not supposed to know about it.’

  ‘Well, that can happen, of course.’

  ‘I know she still grieves. Sometimes I would catch a look on her face when she’d see a newborn. It’s so hard.’ Maggie’s words poured out. ‘And even though Linley’s own mother died in a terrible way, she works with women who have lost children, or have children they can’t afford to keep. Some are removed from them. I don’t know how she does it, how people endure any of it.’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘It seems all too much.’

  Surprised, Georgina said, ‘But it doesn’t happen to everyone.’

  ‘I could die, too.’

  Georgina caught her eye. ‘Maggie, are you with child?’

  ‘No,’ she answered swiftly. ‘No, I’m not.’ She wasn’t completely sure, but as it was nearly time for her monthly courses and twinges deep in her belly were making themselves known, she presumed not. ‘But I’m terrified to marry and have babies. Well, mostly terrified about having the babies.’

  Georgina sat back. ‘Hmm. A problem when one gets married. There are ways to prevent it, but often not successful.’ She squeezed Maggie’s hands. ‘You should talk to your mother.’

  ‘She wouldn’t understand.’ Maggie hung her head. ‘She always wanted more children. Only got two. Or three, but it was the one between Ard and me who died.’

  ‘She’d understand. You might be surprised.’ Georgina looked off into the distance for a moment. ‘I barely remember my own mother, and my stepfather Rupert is almost a memory. He writes from England, but I doubt I’ll see him again. I don’t have other family here except Dane’s mother Jemimah—you’d like her. His half-sister, Elspeth—I’m still trying to get along with her. And there’s Liam, your fa
ther’s brother, a fine father and grandfather. You have all your lovely O’Rourkes around you. Go to them. They’ll know what’s right.’ She patted Maggie’s hand. ‘But keep working. I still do.’

  ‘I want to, but if being by myself is the only way I can earn—’

  ‘It’s not. You’ve heard of Miss Goldstein?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Maggie knew of Vida Goldstein and her work for suffrage, and for women’s and children’s rights.

  ‘She has decided to remain a spinster, believing that she can’t work in her chosen field and be a wife and mother. She might well be right—for her.’ Georgina gazed over at her twin boys. ‘When I was having these two, I decided that I’d find a way to work that suited me as well as allowing me to be a mother. I’ve found that way. I’m as much a part of our business as Dane is.’ Georgina glanced back at Maggie. ‘And I also learned that I didn’t want to live without him.’

  Sam galloped back and drew Pie up a little distance from the cart. He dismounted, threw the reins, and ran down to the landing. The Lady Mitchell glided into the wharf area and inched her way ahead of the Sweet Georgie. Joe was back on board, and Dane’s boat was edging her way backwards as the Lady M settled herself in.

  ‘Oh, what a boat,’ Maggie cried, happy to be distracted.

  ‘She certainly was in her time,’ Georgina said. She turned to Maggie. ‘Write to me. I think we’ll have a lot to talk about. We must arrange to visit each other. There will be so much to learn about what’s ahead for all of us.’ She helped herself from the cart. ‘You have a fine friend in Sam Taylor. I’ve met him a few times now.’ She smiled. ‘We think very highly of him,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, he is a fine friend to all of us, I know,’ Maggie said. ‘He came to look for me these last weeks because my father and my brother couldn’t. I’m very grateful.’

  Dane had come to assist Georgina as she climbed down, but she hadn’t needed it. ‘Ah, Sam. Fine fella, indeed,’ he said and gazed at Maggie, a small smile twitching.

  Dane was teasing her. She felt lucky he hadn’t torn strips off both her and Sam, for he’d certainly seemed to know what had transpired between them. She was thankful he’d remained silent on it but felt blood rush to her face again.

  Georgina seemed to mull over that as she looked at Sam. He’d snatched up the Lady M’s mooring rope and was securing it around a post. ‘The best sort of man to have, I think, a fine friend.’ She leaned in and whispered, ‘And it’s very clear you also have his heart.’ She smiled again and spoke up. ‘We’d better get you back on board with your dog. Now, it won’t be long until this baby comes, and I’d welcome family help with my rowdy crew, once Linley and Eleanor can spare you. Sam will be working here with us too, apparently, so you and Ard will have another good reason to visit.’

  For an instant, Maggie didn’t hear much else after that—she thought perhaps her deafness might have finally taken over, or was it that the whole world around her had just suspended?

  I learned I didn’t want to live without him.

  Sam would not be in Echuca working with her family after all.

  Forty-nine

  Captain Ned Strike had told Maggie that there was no need for her to cook on his boat. He had a cook, and she wasn’t it; she was a passenger. He wasn’t a man to have light conversation either, it seemed, and so she didn’t feel the need to converse at all.

  When she had tentatively asked him about the boiler, Mr Strike had all but growled at her. Of course the subject of Mr Finn’s and Mr Bentley’s deaths was raw, but had they all forgotten that she’d been on the boat too?

  Sitting under shade on the deck in the late afternoon, Maggie watched the animals. Bucky had been divested of his rope and seemed much happier. He and Pie stood staring into the water for hours on end until Bucky tired of that and flopped on his side to sleep.

  Sam kept out of her way, engaging with the captain, or with any of the three other men who worked on the Lady Mitchell. He put his back to whatever was asked of him. He wasn’t thought of as a passenger.

  Maggie learned that the boat had been part of a great river company before the economic downturn came and the railways had crawled through the colony. Its previous owner had met a dire end—on Jacaranda, Dane’s property, no less—but from there the conversation had gone on in hushed tones, too low for her poor hearing to pick up. No matter, if Sam ever spoke to her again, really spoke to her, not just to shove things in her direction—‘Here, take this plate’ or ‘Mind your step’—she’d find out all about it.

  She’d missed so much by being away in Renmark. Family in the MacHenrys, the place at Echuca, and there’d be a new niece or a nephew waiting at home, all being well. Her heart tripped at the thought of home, even though she had never lived there. What had she been doing for two years?

  She touched her little purse. One pound six and six. That’s what she’d been doing, earning enough to save a measly one pound six and six. Well, four pounds six and six if she counted what she’d given to Jane. Maggie stared out over the water as the Lady M sailed on—at three miles per hour, Mr Strike had yelled to someone earlier—and wondered about Jane. Wondered where she was, and what she might have decided to do.

  A creep of envy wormed its way in. She stopped it. Once back home and understanding the nature of this new entity the men of the family were planning, she felt sure there would be a place for her. Oh yes, she’d keep up her cooking skills. Perhaps she’d enrol and study at a gastronomic college, to expand her abilities as she’d intended. Oh, that would be another fight, even if she could afford it. Women were not allowed to be head chefs.

  She heard the engine change, felt the swing of the vessel as it turned towards the bank. This will be where we’ll tie up for the night.

  Tomorrow would see her home. She had yet to hear from Sam that he wouldn’t be working there with her family. It seemed best to clear it up before they arrived, but as usual, he avoided her. Oh, why was all this so hard?

  After dinner, a simple meal of eggs on dry bread, Maggie had been asked to wait on board while the men went ashore and lit a campfire.

  Typical. Left behind. She should just plain defy the captain and go ashore. She sighed, knew full well she’d be uncomfortable. And a woman going against the captain’s orders would really upset things. It wasn’t that she was nervous at all on the boat. Much. All alone. But she wasn’t far away, and if something from the engine even slightly gurgled she’d be off like a shot and running on water to the bank.

  Her one grateful thought was that Sam had said, ‘It’s more than safe on this boat too, Maggie,’ before he’d nodded and walked past her to the gangway and onto dry land.

  While she knew that Mr Strike allowed no grog, the hilarity that sounded from the riverbank hadn’t seemed to need any. Bucky had also been relegated to stay on board; he couldn’t be trusted not to run off into the night chasing a kangaroo or a wallaby, or anything else. So he stayed on deck with her, the rope around his neck again and firmly in her still-bandaged hands. He had slumped to the deck with his head on his front paws. Exactly how she felt.

  This was the very thing she had tried to explain to Sam—to anyone, really: this treatment, this excluding her because she was a woman, or this patronising behaviour that was supposed to make her feel safe and protected, only made her feel useless and without a voice of her own. She detested it. It was why she longed for the chance to do something differently, to be someone who made a difference. She had to get Sam to see that. Had to make sure he knew that he was enough for her, but that she was worthy of her own place in his life, and not just as a kitchen wench and a nursery-maid. Surely he could see that.

  She took a breath. Babies. Somehow she’d try to get around that, to explain her terror of it. There had to be a solution.

  She didn’t want to live her life without him—not now, not ever. She wanted Sam. Wanted him in her life, being her love and her lover. Wanted to feel that rush of heat every day when he looked at her, or touche
d her with those big hands, roughened and callused by long days working in the sun. Wanted his song in her heart.

  There was only one thing to do.

  After the fire on the bank had been completely doused with water and the men were back on board, candles were lit. By the time Sam got to stretch out on his swag, Mr Strike had come to get Maggie and escort her to her cabin. It seemed he had taken it upon himself to ensure she would come to no harm in the night.

  She closed the cabin door as he left and waited until she heard his footsteps retreat. She waited a little longer, not trusting her ears. A door clanged shut above. She slipped out, and in the dim light, found Pie’s silhouette.

  ‘Sam,’ she whispered hoarsely. She crept forwards. ‘Sam.’ Pie whinnied. Sam would be close by. ‘I need to know something.’ She stood still to listen.

  ‘What?’ she heard off to her left.

  ‘Are you not going to be staying at our place for long when we get back?’ She bobbed down, groped on the deck floor to find a place to kneel without accidentally sitting on him, or on the dog who she knew was also close by.

  ‘Why do you need to know that now?’ he grumbled.

  In the silence, she strained her ears, hoping she hadn’t missed whatever else he might have said. ‘Sam?’

  ‘It’s none of your concern, Maggie.’

  As her eyes adjusted, she could see he was sprawled on top of the swag, his hands behind his head. ‘It’s just that Georgina said you’d be there working with them, but I assumed you’d be working in Echuca with Ard.’ Has he heard me? ‘Sam.’

  He gave an exasperated sound and that was all.

  She tried again. ‘I mean, I don’t want what has happened between you and me to mean—’

  ‘Go back to bed, Maggie.’