Hawkins' Grove

by Graeme Bourke

  * * *

  Matilda Hawkins peered out the window of the coach, at the stately gum trees and the withered yellow grass. The sun was high in the sky and it was becoming intolerably hot. She didn’t complain about the heat as did a couple of the other passengers. Instead, she relished it, for she knew she was home. For the last four years she had been in England suffering the damp and cold. At fourteen her parents had shipped her off to England to stay with her aunt where she was to learn the ways of a lady and improve her education. She could hardly contain her excitement as the coach rumbled ever closer to Gladstone.

  Matilda returned her eyes to the interior of the coach. There were three other passengers; a stuffy banker and his pompous wife, and a handsome Constable. Anthony Hopwood was his name. He was going to Gladstone to take over from Constable Harrison who was retiring.

  She glanced over at the Constable who was looking out the window. He was tall, easily six-feet, and was solidly built with broad shoulders. A tiny wisp of blond hair hung down beneath his cap and over his brow. He was seated opposite her and next to the banker. The banker’s corpulent wife was waving a fan in an attempt to keep herself cool as she sat next to Matilda. She had hardly spoken a word for the entire trip. The Constable turned and looked directly into Matilda’s eyes, she felt her face flush. He smiled at her.

  Matilda composed herself. “Hopwood,” said Matilda. “It is from the old English, meaning, a wood in a valley.”

  “You are not only a beautiful young woman but an educated one as well,” said Anthony Hopwood, staring at Matilda with his grey eyes.

  The chubby banker with the fine gold rimmed glasses looked at Matilda as if to agree with the Constable, his wife gave him a disapproving stare.

  From the very moment that Anthony Hopwood had climbed aboard the coach, the young woman he now knew as Matilda Hawkins had taken his breath away. She was a stunning, raven-haired beauty with sparkling blue eyes, and a faint-olive glow to her skin. He was pleased that she was going to Gladstone.

  “Thank you,” said Matilda giving him a broad smile. “Where are you from, Mr Hopwood?”

  “Hobart, my father is a blacksmith and my mother a seamstress,” he added.

  “It’s a wonder your father didn’t want you to follow him in the trade?”

  “He did, but I chose a career in the police force instead.”

  “A very admiral career if I might say so,” said Tobias Flint the banker.

  Matilda looked at the broad shoulders of Anthony Hopwood. She could well and truly imagine him standing at an anvil swinging a hammer, with muscles rippling beneath his shirt and sweat dripping from his wide brow. She had to look away, the man was causing her to think of things she shouldn’t. That was when she saw the two masked riders coming out of the trees.

  “Stand and deliver,” yelled one of the men as the driver struggled to hold the horses. He stopped the coach.

  “Don’t panic,” said Anthony Hopwood. “Just stay calm. At worst, they will only want our money.”

  Tobias Flint reached for a handkerchief from his vest pocket and wiped his sweaty brow, Mrs Flint’s fan moved faster, and Matilda tried to stay calm.

  “Everybody out,” yelled the taller of the two men who was wearing a coarse gabardine coat in faded brown. He sat astride a grey horse. The second man was short and dumpy. His horse was a fine looking black. Tobias Flint led the way, followed by Matilda, Mrs Flint, and then Constable Hopwood. Matilda saw the surprise in the eyes of the bushrangers at the sight of the Constable.

  “You won’t get away with this,” said Constable Hopwood, taking a step forward.

  “That will be close enough, Constable,” said the man on the grey as he aimed his pistol directly at him. “See what they have in their purses,” he instructed the other man.

  Constable Hopwood stood quietly as the smaller of the two men alighted from his horse and approached them. Tobias Flint huffed and puffed as the bushranger went through his pockets, removing his wallet and gold watch, while Mrs Flint waved her fan ever faster. Matilda stood next to Constable Hopwood, her initial fear fading as the scruffy bushranger took her purse. Constable Hopwood handed over his wallet.

  “I hope you have a fast horse,” said Matilda to the tall man.

  “And why would that be my, dear?” said the man as he leaned forward and rested his hands on the front of his saddle with a certain arrogance. The pistol still aimed in their direction.

  “My father will hunt you down.”

  “And who might your father be?”

  “Jim Hawkins, he is one of the biggest landowners around here, and he hates bushrangers.”

  The man seemed to stiffen in the saddle, he said nothing for a moment or two as the other bushranger climbed back onto his horse with his ill-gotten gains.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Matilda Hawkins.”

  “This Jim Hawkins, where is he from?”

  “Why, England of course.”

  “Does he have any relatives in England?”

  “Yes, his sister Ellen Trumball. I have been staying with her these past four years.”

  The tone in the bushranger’s voice seemed to change. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Miss Hawkins, but we have to make a living.”

  “There are other ways of making a living,” replied Matilda, surprised at her own bravado.

  “Indeed there is,” said the man with a cheeky smile as he slipped the pistol into his belt, tipped his well worn, wide-brimmed hat to her and rode off.

  “Strange man,” said Constable Hopwood, looking at Matilda.

  “A ruffian that should be hung from the highest tree,” said Tobias Flint as he ushered his flustered wife back into the coach.

  “I think I’m going to faint,” she said, struggling to get back into the coach.

  “How far to Gladstone driver?” asked Constable Hopwood, who was assisting Matilda by holding her hand as she climbed back into the coach.

  “It’ll be another twenty minutes, sir.”

  On arriving in Gladstone the driver quickly scurried into the depot, no doubt to tell of his harrowing experience before anyone else had the chance to take his glory. Constable Hopwood bid his farewell to Matilda and made his way to the police station. He intended to raise a posse and go after the bushrangers. The banker and his wife took off without saying a word. Matilda was left on her own with her baggage still on the coach and no sign of her father.

  She straightened the tiny blue hat that sat precariously on her hair that was tied up neatly on her head. The hat matched the aqua blue dress she was wearing. She looked around and noticed a few people in the street staring at her. They would be wondering who she was, no doubt. When Matilda had left she was only a mere strip of a girl, thin and tiny. No one would recognize her now, even if they knew her back then.

  Very rarely had she come into town from Hawkins Grove, and her mother never came into town. With her disfigurement, her mother, Mary, didn’t want to put people in the position where they would have to look upon her face. She shunned society and kept to herself on the farm.

  Stepping up onto the boardwalk Matilda took a leisurely stroll along the shop fronts. The goods displayed seemed in sharp contrast to what she had become used to in London, backwards, was the word that came to mind, but secretly, she loved it. This was her home, this was where she belonged. Soon she would be back at Hawkins Grove.

  As she drew level with the doors to the saloon, a big man, wearing a well worn dustcoat came staggering out the doors. He had thinning red hair and a beard, his eyes were bloodshot, and his face red. He stared at her. She saw a sudden exclamation of fear in his eyes, he backed away still staring at her as he fell off the sidewalk into the dust on the road.

  “You’re dead, you went over the cliff!” stammered the man as he tried to gain his feet.

  “What are you talking about?” asked Matilda, stepping toward him.

  “Don’t come near me,” said the man as he made two attempts to cl
imb onto his horse. Eventually, he sat upright in the saddle, took one final frightened look at Matilda and rode off.

  “Crazy,” said Matilda to herself as she turned to walk back down to the stage depot. She saw a cart coming up the street and she instantly recognized the driver. It was her father. Matilda was bursting at the seams, she wanted to run to her father and give him a big hug. But no, that wouldn’t do. Her father had sent her away to become a lady. She would have to show him that she had indeed become a mature young woman. She walked proudly toward him with her head held high.

  “Matilda!” said Jim as he stared at the young woman standing on the sidewalk. For a brief moment he was in shock. He couldn’t get over how much she had changed. She looked so much like her mother before the accident.

  “Yes, Father.”

  Jim climbed down off the cart and tied the horse to the railing. He stared at his daughter. “You have changed.”

  Matilda could contain herself no longer as she leapt down off the sidewalk and hugged her father. “I missed you so much. How is Mother? And William, he must have grown some?”

  “Everybody’s fine. Your mother is waiting for you at home. Where is your luggage?”

  “Either on the stage or in the depot,” said Matilda. As they turned to walk back down to the depot she put her arm through his. The town folk would have guessed by now who she was as she noticed a couple of old dears nodding their heads and looking their way.

  Matilda’s luggage was still on the stage. Jim proceeded to unload it and carry it up to the cart. Just as he was putting the cases in the back, Constable Harrison rode up with a group of men.

  “Jim, this here is Constable Hopwood, he is my replacement.”

  Jim nodded to the young man. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Constable Hopwood.”

  “And I you, sir, I have heard a lot about you from your daughter, we came up on the stage together.”

  “Oh,” said Jim, looking around at his daughter, he saw that she was smiling at the handsome Constable.

  “What’s going on?” he asked as he turned back to face Constable Harrison.

  “Stage was held up by bushrangers, we are off to see if we can find them.”

  “Matilda, you never mentioned anything about the stage being held up.”

  “I haven’t had time, Father, and besides, I only lost a few pounds.”

  “That is not the point. We can’t have bushrangers running rife in the district. I would go with you Constable Harrison, except that this is my daughter’s first day home.

  “I understand,” replied Constable Harrison. “Can we have Billy then, Jim?”

  Billy now worked at Hawkins Grove. Constable Harrison often asked for him when there was some tracking to be done.

  “I will send him on as soon as I get back to Hawkins Grove.”

  “Good-day to you then,” said Constable Harrison, tipping his hat to Matilda. They rode off.

  “Is there anything else you should be telling me,” asked Jim as he remembered the smile Matilda had given to the young Constable.

  “Well, there is one tiny thing.”

  Jim braced himself for the news, did she want to see more of the young Constable.

  “I was walking past the saloon when a drunk came staggering out. He said something strange to me.”

  “What did he say?” asked Jim as he realized that his daughter was talking about something completely different than what he had been thinking.

  “He said, you’re dead, you fell over the cliff. He seemed scared of me, Father.”

  Jim felt a trembling in his body. “This drunk, what did he look like?”

  “He was a big man, with thinning red hair and a beard.”

  “Frank O’Connor.”

  “You know him then?”

  “Yes, I know him,” said Jim, letting his mind go back to that time eighteen years ago when Frank O’Connor had stood over Lillian and struck her. He had always wanted to have it out with Frank O’Connor but Lillian had persuaded him to leave it be. She wanted no attention directed to her or any of her family. Let sleeping dogs lie, she had said. But would the dogs now be stirred, he wondered as he stared at his daughter?

  Matilda was the exact image of her mother before the fall and she was wearing a blue dress, almost the same as the one Lillian had wore on the day she went over the cliff. He could understand why Frank had gone a little crazy.

  “Let’s get going, your mother will be wondering where we are.”

  Matilda watched the countryside slide by as she breathed in the fresh air. She could smell the grass and the gum trees. It was great to be back in the country again. Even though she had become a city girl to a certain extent, she had missed Hawkins Grove and her family so much. When they reached the iron gates on the paved brick road leading to the house, Matilda could wait no longer. She jumped from the cart and ran to the steps leading up to the house. Her hat fell off onto the road. She didn’t bother to stop to pick it up as her long hair came loose and dropped to her shoulders. Her mother was standing on the top of the steps with the aid of her walking stick, waiting for her.

  “Mother, I missed you so much,” said Matilda as she hugged her with sheer delight.

  “Obviously, city life hasn’t changed you.”

  “I belong here, Mother, this is my home.”

  By this time Jim had reached the steps of the house. The stable-hand was there to unload Lillian’s luggage and lead the horse and cart away. Jim told him to find Billy and send him on to assist Constable Harrison.

  “Where is William?” asked Matilda, still clinging to her mother as she looked around.

  “He is in the north paddock. He hasn’t been able to sleep knowing you were coming home.”

  “My little brother; how is he?” asked Matilda as they went inside to the sitting room where she sat down next to her mother on the settee.

  “Not so little anymore.”

  “But he is only fifteen,” said Matilda casting her eyes around the room, feeling the warmth and love that was here.

  “He is a big boy for his age. He is doing a man’s work now.”

  “I’m just going to get William,” said Jim as he poked his head through the door.

  “Don’t be long,” replied Lillian.

  “Now dear, tell me all about London?” said Lillian as she turned to her daughter.

  They sat and talked. Matilda told her mother about all the friends she had made and what she had learnt at school. An hour had passed when Matilda heard the sound of voices and footsteps. Her father and brother entered the room. Matilda jumped up from where she was sitting.

  “William! You have grown so tall.” He was a full head taller than Matilda. “What have they been feeding you on?” asked Matilda, taking hold of her brother and squeezing him with all her strength, then she stood back holding his hands. He still had his boyish looks and brown eyes, but he was filling out, he would be like his father eventually, tall, strong, and thick set.

  “Just the usual, plenty of potatoes and vegetables,” said William, looking at his sister. She wasn’t the little girl he had grown up with. She was a woman now, and a beautiful one at that.

  “Dinner is ready,” said Lillian.

  Matilda led William by the arm into the dining room. She sat down next to him. Jim and Lillian were all smiles as they listened to Matilda talk as they ate. She was so full of life. Later, they sat around the fire and chatted away, they all had so much to catch up on. Eventually, Matilda’s eyes refused to stay open and she had to go to bed. Bidding her parents and brother goodnight she climbed the stairs to her room. As soon as her head hit the pillow she was sound asleep.

  As they readied for bed, Jim asked the question that he was sure was on Lillian’s lips as well as his. “What are we going to do Mary?” It had taken Jim a long time to get used to calling Lillian, Mary, but now it came easily.

  “I don’t know, Jim.”

  “Frank O’Connor saw her today-and he saw Lillian Langley-not our
Matilda."