Authors: Philippa Carr
“I see,” I said. “That applies to the men here too.”
She looked quickly at me. “That’s always a problem. There aren’t enough women in the country. They need them, you know. We have to shut our eyes to a lot of things out here which wouldn’t be acceptable at home.”
“I understand that.”
“It makes morals not quite the same.”
“Can’t they marry?”
“Most of them do.”
“You’d think Gregory …”
She smiled. “Oh he’ll marry when the time is ripe. He’s waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“For the right moment.”
“And in the meantime?”
“Well, he’s a man like the rest of them … more so, perhaps.” I had an idea that she might know that Polly’s nocturnal visitor was Gregory Donnelly.
She could shrug it aside. I could not. To me it seemed the height of depravity when, that very day, he had asked me to marry him.
All thought of the matter was driven from my mind because the next day Helena’s pains started. It was amazing how Polly threw off her frivolity and put on the mantle of the midwife. The white coat she had brought with her was the outward symbol of her professionalism and that was certainly in no doubt when she took charge.
She gave her orders in a sharp crisp voice and we were all eager to accept her authority.
It was as though she had changed her personality entirely.
We had all been very anxious about Helena; her listlessness had disturbed us. Maud thought it was due to the fact that she had an indifferent husband. Both Maud and Polly had a poor opinion of Matthew; but there was, naturally, so much that they did not know.
Her labour went on for two days while the house was plunged into a state of fearful expectancy. Even Jacco was affected and talked in whispers.
We were all seated in the living room waiting. Polly had summoned Maud to help her, for Maud over the years had gathered certain experience and had on one occasion delivered a child when help was long in coming.
Our relief was intense when we heard the cry of a child.
Maud came down to tell us.
“It’s a boy,” she said.
I had not seen Helena so happy since the days of her engagement to John Milward. She sat up in bed holding the baby while we all stood round declaring our admiration for the infant.
Polly was beaming with satisfaction as though the baby was entirely her creation. All of us were deeply moved. As for myself I could not take my eyes from the baby. It seemed extraordinary that one could marvel at ten tiny fingers, ten toes and a blob of a nose but I did—and so did my mother and Helena. The men were a little aloof though there was certainly general relief that Helena’s baby had come safely into the world and that she, though exhausted now, survived her ordeal.
The days went quickly by; I was with Helena most of the time. I was allowed to hold the baby. Polly reigned supreme. She had promised to stay for two weeks after the birth for, she admitted now, she had been a little worried about Helena.
Polly bustled and twinkled and laughed; every time I saw her I thought of her lying with Gregory in her bed, making love. It was a repulsive thought—and yet there was Polly, so happy, so pleased with life, talking about little babies. “I reckon,” she said, “they’re the nicest things God ever thought of. Mind you,” she added, “there’s other nice things, too. But when I’ve just brought a little one into the world, I don’t think there’s anything as lovely as a little baby.”
How strange people were! Polly, the baby lover and the wanton companion of men like Gregory Donnelly. If there had been love I could have understood it, but this was plain lust.
Rosa came in and held the baby. She was such a pretty girl and different from the young girls I had seen about the property. In a way she seemed younger. I expected this was because her mother sheltered her from the crudeness around her. Not an easy task, I imagined.
I thought again: I want to go home. And now that the baby is born we can start making our plans.
There was the baby’s name to consider. Helena wanted to call him after John.
“After all,” she said, “he is John’s.”
“Why not vary it a little? Jonathan is a name used in our family.”
“Jon,” she said. “John without the H. That will make his name a little different from his father’s.”
So the baby became Jon and we were soon calling him Jonnie.
Our time was taken up with the baby. I was learning a great deal from Polly; how to hold him; how he should be bathed; how to dress him; how to rock him.
“You’d be a good little mother,” Polly told me. “Better see about getting one of your own.”
She nudged me and went off into one of her fits of laughter. I flushed painfully thinking again of her and Gregory Donnelly together.
She was shedding her midwife’s skin just like a snake does and becoming the flighty woman with promiscuous habits. There was nothing else snakelike about Polly Winters.
Soon she would be gone to some other homestead looking for a little baby to bring into the world and new men to comfort her at nights. And we should be gone, too. I had seen signs of restlessness in my mother.
I desperately wanted to go. I wanted to get away from Gregory Donnelly. He disturbed me. He aroused images in my mind which I wanted to banish. I supposed that was what people would call life. I wanted to remain apart from it for as long as I could.
There was one thing I would greatly regret on leaving Australia and that was that we had been unable to find Digory. I often talked about him to my father.
“I know how much you wanted to find him,” he said. “You wanted to make sure that he was all right … making a life for himself. He seemed to me a survivor. But I agree with you that it would be good to know. Don’t give up hope. We might find him even yet. Everywhere I go I make enquiries, but it is rather like looking for the needle in the haystack. But you never know what’s going to turn up.”
Rosa was often in the room we called the nursery. She adored the child. She confided in me that when she grew up and married she intended to have ten children.
“Do you want to be married?” I asked.
“Oh yes. But I’ve got to wait until I’m a little older.”
“Have you decided on the bridegroom?”
“Oh yes,” she said. “I’ve always known.”
“Oh? Who is it?”
She opened her pretty blue eyes very wide as though astonished by my ignorance. “Mr. Donnelly, of course.”
“Oh … Mr. Donnelly! Do you … like him?”
She nodded. “He’s the finest man around here. My mother says he’s the only one for me.”
I was silent. I could understand Maud’s reasoning. Rosa was not for one of the men from the shacks, not for one of the hired hands; she was for the master of them all; and that was Greg Donnelly. That he was a philanderer did not seem to affect Maud. Perhaps she believed that when he was married he would settle down.
She probably thought he would own the property one day. That was his ambition of course, and hadn’t she said he was the sort of man who would get what he wanted?
Poor Rosa. I was beginning to understand a great deal. It was not that he wanted me. He wanted the property; and I was the key to the property. It belonged to my father and it was very possible that if Gregory Donnelly married his daughter, the property would be a wedding present.
It was all hideously clear.
I hated the man more than ever.
We were at dinner. In the room which had become the nursery now that Polly Winters had gone, the baby was sleeping. Gregory was dining with us as usual and I had become more aware of him. Every time I looked up his eyes would be on me and he would give me that meaningful smile which embarrassed and infuriated me. He was like a man who was biding his time. I began to dread these meals because of his presence.
My father was saying did we realize that we were already into May?
“It’s eight months since we left home,” he said.
“And time we were thinking of getting back,” added my mother.
“It’s been a great time here,” said Jacco with a hint of regret.
“A wonderful experience,” my father agreed. “But I often ask myself what has been happening at home during our absence.”
“I suppose you have a good man there,” said Gregory.
“Excellent. We couldn’t have left otherwise. He’s been in complete charge many times … but never quite so long.”
“It will be summer there now,” said my mother nostalgically.
My father smiled at her. “Oh, I know you can’t wait to get back.”
“What about you, Helena?” asked my mother.
“I … I don’t know. I shall have to make plans.”
“You won’t want to wait here for Matthew. You’d better come back to Cador with us.”
“Yes … I’d like that.”
“Annora doesn’t want to part with Jonnie, you know,” said my mother smiling at me.
“I admit it,” I said.
Helena smiled but I could see she was uneasy at the prospect of having to face life in England. Here she had been lulled into a certain peace. She had her baby and she was with us.
My father said: “I think we might make arrangements to leave at the end of June. That will give us time to see a little more. Greg, where is Stillman’s Creek?”
“Stillman’s Creek? Oh, that would be up north. Halfway to Brisbane, I think.”
“Have you ever been there?”
“No. But I’ve heard of it. A fellow called Stillman came out here and got hold of the land for next to nothing. I don’t know what happened to him. Droughts are a bigger problem up there than even down here. Are you interested in the place?”
“I just heard it mentioned and wondered if you knew it. I’d like to do a little more sailing before we go.”
“Do it soon. We get some fierce winds next month.”
“That would be fine,” said Jacco.
“Could be too much of a good thing,” Gregory commented.
The conversation turned to what was happening in the property and when we left the table Gregory followed my father to the stables. I saw that they were talking earnestly.
I guessed that our giving a definite time for our departure had made Gregory more determined to thrash out the matter of buying the property.
When they came back to the house I went to my parents’ bedroom. It was the only place where we could talk in privacy; and both Jacco and I often went there to do this.
Jacco was already there and I expect he had the same idea as I had.
“Did you really mean we were going in June?” asked Jacco.
“Yes,” replied my father. “Most definitely. We shouldn’t have stayed so long but for Helena and her baby.”
“What’s going to happen to her when we get back?” asked my mother.
“We did say she could come with us,” I reminded them.
“It’ll work out,” said Jacco.
“Yes,” I agreed. “She’ll come home with us and then we’ll decide.”
“Well, let’s make the most of the time left to us,” said my father.
“What about sailing tomorrow?” suggested Jacco.
“All right. Just the family, eh? Would you like that, Annora?”
“Just the family. Yes. Helena won’t want to come.”
“The four of us then,” said my mother.
“Have you decided to sell the property to Gregory?” I asked my father.
“Yes, I think I have. It seems the reasonable thing to do. He’s made an excellent job of it. All I had to begin with was a very small patch. His father was a great help to me. I was doing quite well before I left because I had some experience of the country during my servitude. I certainly chose the right man in his father; and his son is such another.”
“He’s a very masterful man,” added my mother. “Just the sort who will get on and make something of his life.”
“I’ll have to put it into motion right away,” said my father. “These things take a little time.”
“Can he afford to buy?” asked Jacco.
“My dear chap, I shan’t be hard on him.”
“So you would sever all ties with Australia?” I asked.
“Well, my dear child, what do we want with it? Cador takes all my time. And it is going to take all Jacco’s. We don’t want property on the other side of the world. I don’t know why I hung on to it for so long. This visit has been of the utmost interest, but would any one of us want to come again? Think of all the discomfort of the voyage… and we do miss certain amenities, don’t we?”
“That is an indisputable fact,” said my mother. “I think it is an excellent idea to hand it over to Gregory who is really superb in his way, and in his right element.”
“He’s a pioneer by nature. He’ll get a good bargain and he deserves it. I told him I’d give him my decision within a few days. I think he knows what the answer will be. And then … it’s home for us.”
“And tomorrow we go sailing,” I said.
“There are a few places I want to see,” said my father. “But I can do that while we clinch the deal.”
I went to bed that night with a feeling of relief. This strange experience was almost over. Soon we should be leaving the property to Gregory Donnelly—and that was what he wanted; we should be returning home to England which in spite of weak noblemen, aspiring politicians with grudges and prosperous brothel-keepers, was at least home!
I had no idea when I awoke that morning that this was to be one of the strangest and most tragic days of my life.
I was awakened by Helena who stood by my bed.
She said: “Jonnie is coughing and he’s rather hot.”
Immediately I got out of bed. I went to the nursery. I picked up Jonnie. He was a little feverish but he gave me that lop-sided toothless look which we interpreted as a smile.
I said: “I don’t think there is much wrong with him, but I’ll get Maud. She’s had experience and will know.”
I dressed and went to find her. She came at once.
“It’s a slight chill,” she said. “Nothing much, I’m sure. We’ll just keep him warm and he’ll be right as rain tomorrow.”
Helena was a little panicky.
“Are you going to be out all day?” she asked.
I said that I was.
“I wish you weren’t going,” she said in a worried voice.
I hesitated. “All right … I’ll stay. The others can go without me.”
My mother was disappointed. “Really, Helena does make demands on you,” she said.