‘She’ll never bother you again,’ Finn had told him when he phoned from London before he left to fly back to Australia. ‘She’s assured me of that. But she did say, and I quote, “If darling Kate gets a hint of it then all bets are off and I’ll have no choice but to tell the whole world what I know.” So as long as you keep Kathleen out of it, you can forget about Jessica and her demands.’
James had never really taken to Jessica, finding her melodramatic. The life she had envisaged for herself had fallen flat and for that she was determined to make others pay, without taking into account her own foolishness. He was indebted to Finn for what he had done and couldn’t wait to see him in person to thank him.
He had walked for close to an hour before he used the key Mrs Gatenby had given him and found her in the kitchen preparing breakfast for her guests.
Wiping her chubby hands on her apron, she took an aluminium kettle from the stove and ran it under the tap strapped to the wall with a piece of string. ‘What about a cuppa?’ she asked cheerfully. ‘I’ll make us a fresh pot.’
‘Thank you. That’d be wonderful. I was hoping I could trouble you to use the telephone. Do you think the switchboard at Gullumbindy will be open yet?’
When they’d arrived at the hotel last night, Mrs Gatenby had wanted to know the whole story as to why the family was left stranded at the Australia Hotel. She had suggested James and Kathleen try ringing Finn again then and there, but when James tried, the switchboard in Gullumbindy had closed down for the night.
Mrs Gatenby looked at the black clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Most of the country switchboards open early. It’s worth a try, anyway.’ She placed the kettle back on the stove. ‘When you’ve done on the phone, the water will have boiled.’ Whipping a box of matches from the pocket of her apron, she lit the burner. ‘What about your good lady? Reckon she could do with a nice cuppa as well?’
James nodded. ‘I’m sure she would. I’ll take it up to her when I come back.’
He made his way along the dark hallway to the tiny office where a black telephone sat on a table between two bookcases overflowing with magazines, old newspapers and an arrangement of dried hydrangeas covered in grey dust. It took a few tries, but when he finally raised the Gullumbindy switchboard, the operator told him she’d tried ringing Finn again.
‘I tried him last night, too. A friend was after him. Not a squeak.’
When James got back to the kitchen Lillie was up and was talking to Mrs Gatenby about Ireland.
‘Still no answer at Eureka Park,’ he said, as they both stopped talking and looked at him. ‘The operator has tried quite a few times.’
‘Where could he possibly be?’ Lillie asked anxiously.
‘I really don’t know. But there’s sure to be an explanation. And thank you for this,’ he said to Mrs Gatenby, picking up the cup of tea she had waiting for him.
Upstairs, Kathleen was awake and going through her handbag looking for a comb. He handed her the tea and told her what he’d found out.
‘The operator says it’s unusual for Finn not to tell her if he’s going away,’ he added. ‘Normally he’d pop in and ask her to hold the mail.’ He sat down on the chair near the window. ‘She wondered if the river crossing on the road out was flooded as they’ve had so much rain. Even so, she hadn’t heard of anyone else being cut off.’
‘What if he’s had an accident?’
‘I’m sure someone would have found him. If it was a road accident the police would have reported it. And if it was out at Eureka Park he did say he had a stud manager. He would have known.’
‘True.’ Kathleen sighed. ‘I never for a minute thought of this happening. But I tell you what, when we do find him, I’ll give him a good piece of my mind. Worrying us like this.’
‘I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. In any case I’ll ring the hotel again. If there’s no news there, I think we should do what we agreed last night. Head up to Tamworth.’
‘There’s not much else we can do, is there?’ Kathleen said, running the comb through her hair.
‘We always knew we’d have to buy a second-hand car. That’ll need to be a priority now.’
‘Yes it will.’
‘We can send the luggage by train.’
When James rang the Australia Hotel there was still no news. Scratching his head in consternation, he rang the telephone exchange in Gullumbindy once more. Surely there must be a hotel there where the family could stay for a few nights if Finn didn’t turn up and they couldn’t get into the homestead.
‘There’s the Telegraph Hotel,’ the operator said. ‘Hold on and I’ll try that.’
A couple of minutes later she told him the hotel was full. ‘There’s the picnic races. When I explained what’s happened, Mrs Hogan, who owns the Telegraph with her husband, insisted you stay in their house down the road from the pub. Sometimes they use a few of the rooms as overflow from the hotel anyway. Now,’ she added, sounding chuffed she’d been able to help, ‘I’ll put you through to her.’
Five minutes later it was sorted out. The family would go to Gullumbindy and stay at the Hogans’ house until James got hold of Finn. Or they went out to Eureka to see if they could get into the homestead. Now he would have to find a car. He hoped Mrs Gatenby would be able to help point him in the right direction.
* * *
Lillie was delighted when Mrs Gatenby suggested that Ma take her and her brothers swimming at Bondi Beach while Mr Gatenby took Dad out to a place called Parramatta Road to look for a car.
‘One of my lodgers said he’d drop you off and pick you up. He’s going to see his sister at Coogee,’ she said.
Lillie could see the relief in her mother’s eyes that they would be getting out of the boarding house for a while. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It would be wonderful for the children to see an Australian beach.’
‘On a sunny day like today there’s no better place to be,’ Mrs Gatenby said. ‘Now,’ she beckoned to Lillie, ‘come on down to the kitchen and you can help me make some sandwiches. You can have a picnic on the beach.’
‘Can I help?’ Freddie asked.
‘You certainly can, young fella.’
A few minutes later she was bustling around in the kitchen telling Lillie to get a knapsack out of the cupboard to put the sandwiches in.
‘Is it a good beach?’ Freddie asked. ‘With lots of waves?’
‘One of the best.’
An hour later, as Lillie stood looking out to the surf on Bondi Beach, she thought Mrs Gatenby was right. She had never seen so much white sand. It seemed to go on forever. Even though it wasn’t quite summer and it was a work day, it was crowded with people, some under bright umbrellas, others paddling on the shore or surfing in the tumbling waves. There were deeply tanned life guards bulging with muscles, who sat on tall seats like tennis umpires’ chairs, and lots of vendors going around selling ice creams and soft drinks. Most of the girls wore two-piece swimsuits, which immediately made Lillie feel dreary in her one-piece. She saw Ronan eyeing them off and even Marcus’s eyes were out on stalks. Out on the water a group of fellas were riding the monstrous, breaking waves on long surfboards. Lillie didn’t know how they had the nerve to go out so far when she just knew the sea was teeming with huge, man-eating sharks.
‘I’ll sit here,’ her mother said, placing the knapsack and towels Mrs Gatenby had loaned them down on a wall running alongside the beach. ‘Marcus, you and Freddie stay in the shallows; Ronan and Lillie, don’t go out too far. Mrs Gatenby said there’s a rip that can drag you out.’
When Lillie had a go in the surf she got dumped by the waves and all the sand went down her woollen swimsuit, scratching her breasts and getting stuck in her belly button. After a couple of goes she decided it wasn’t for her so she sat on the sand and let the waves wash over her feet. Soon Ronan came and joined her. Further along the beach Marcus and Freddie were building sandcastles in the wet sand.
‘So what do you think?’ she asked Ronan.
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‘About the beach? Or about being left high and dry by Uncle Finn?’
‘Both.’
‘Well, the beach is great. But God knows what’s happened to Uncle Finn.’
‘Do you think he’s gone on one of his benders?’
‘Something’s happened to him, that’s for sure.’
At that moment a girl walked past in a skimpy two-piece.
‘She looks a bit like Clara,’ Lillie said. ‘The same long blonde hair.’
‘The hair maybe. But not much else.’
‘I wonder what she’s doing. Maybe there’ll be a letter at Uncle Finn’s place if we ever get there.’
Ronan nodded. ‘Yeah, you never know.’
‘It’s funny thinking we mightn’t see her again. Forever.’
Ronan used his finger to draw a circle in the sand. ‘Even though we wouldn’t have seen her until the holidays it’s odd being on the other side of the world and her in London.’ He paused and looked out to the sea. ‘No doubt she’ll forget all about us before too long.’
For the first time in her life Lillie thought Ronan was talking to her like a friend, rather than a younger sister. Although she had never really fancied anyone, apart from Seamus Flaherty on the school bus, she thought she knew how her brother was feeling.
‘I don’t think she’ll forget,’ she said, touching him on the arm. ‘Maybe she’ll come visit and …’
Before she had a chance to say anything more, Freddie came bounding up and dropped a handful of sand on her head, rubbing it into her hair.
‘Freddie,’ she screamed. ‘You’re a pest.’
Ronan stood up and grabbed him and took him out into the water and dropped him into a wave, making him scream and splash furiously, as Freddie couldn’t swim that well. But Ronan was there to catch him. Watching Ronan, Lillie felt sorry for him. Not only had he lost Rathgarven, which rightfully should have gone to him, and despite his refusal to admit that he was smitten by Clara, he obviously thought about her a lot.
CHAPTER
12
Lillie put her hand to her mouth. She could hardly breathe and thought she was going to be sick. She leant out of the window, but the wind was so strong it made her feel worse.
Since 5.30 this morning she had been sitting in the back seat of the Holden, which Dad had purchased from a very nice secondhand dealer. Her parents and Freddie were in the front and Lillie was squashed next to the window beside Marcus, with Ronan on the other side. They drove across the incredible Harbour Bridge, through leafy suburbs, and left the chaos of the city behind as they crossed a wide river. Now they were deep in the heart of the countryside. Every now and then they came to a small town; some had pubs, shops and cafés advertising meat pies and fish and chips on the main street. And like in Ireland there was usually a church, often with a school next to it.
‘Move over,’ she hissed to Marcus, whose knees were spread out over the seat. She gave him a nudge in the ribs. ‘You’re taking up more room than Ronan. And you’re half his size.’
‘Ouch,’ Marcus snapped, kicking her heel with his foot. ‘It’s you that’s taking up all the space. And you always get the window.’
‘I am the girl.’
‘And?’
‘You can change when we get halfway,’ Ma scolded, ‘so please stop bickering.’
Lillie thought how different the countryside was to the rich green fields of Kerry, where the roads were so narrow and steep, winding through towering mountains, bogs, stony fields and thick woods. Stone walls and hedgerows would block the sight of many of the fields close to the road. Here she could see miles of flat land and barbed-wire fences instead of walls. And there were millions of gum trees; some of them looked as though their trunks had been painted white and others painted black. The blossoms on the wattle trees were bright yellow, not unlike the colour of the gorse at home. Mrs Gatenby had told her that even though the drought had broken up north, parts of New South Wales were still in the midst of it. And, true enough, the land outside the car window was sunburnt, dusty and dry, the sheep’s wool a dirty shade of khaki. By a dried-out waterhole (Ma told her they were called dams in Australia, and fields were called paddocks), the willows looked as though they were screaming out for a drink. Every now and then there was a farmhouse with a galvanised water tank sitting on wooden stilts beside it. Often the houses were sort of dumped in a bare paddock, the only trappings being telegraph poles and farm machinery spread among clumps of thistles nearby. Very occasionally there was a posh-looking homestead with a well-watered garden, tall leafy trees and thick bushes, or a long tree-lined avenue that Lillie was sure would lead up to such a place. Further on it was obvious a bushfire (something farmers in Ireland never had to worry about) had been through burning everything. In one paddock the carcass of a dead sheep was being picked at by crows; in another was the charred remains of a farmhouse — a brick fireplace, an old bath and a pile of distorted tin the only hint it had been someone’s home.
‘My God!’ she said to Ronan, who was staring vacantly out of the window. ‘It looks like hell has been through. And the land’s so flat, except for those brown hills in the distance.’
‘It’s probably what the veldts in Africa are like,’ he muttered. ‘Minus the elephants and giraffes.’
‘What about the kangaroos?’ Freddie demanded. ‘Shouldn’t they be hopping around everywhere?’
‘Keep your eyes peeled,’ Ma said. ‘You’re sure to spot some soon.’
But much to Lillie and her brothers’ disappointment, there were no kangaroos or wallabies to be seen anywhere. Further on, her father pulled the Holden over to let a couple of stray sheep go past. Ahead of them a stock truck was pulled up to a grassy ramp behind a barbed-wire fence, and a bunch of sheep were being loaded on to it. The sheep on the road must be two that had got away. Not for long. A black-and-white border collie came bounding through the fence, yelping and snapping at the sheep’s hind legs until they turned around and bolted back through a hole in the fence to join the others.
‘Jeepers creepers,’ Freddie exclaimed. ‘Imagine a dog doing that.’ Then he spied a stockman, riding a horse and cracking a whip at the sheep. ‘He looks like the Lone Ranger in my comic book!’ Next to the fence was a man dressed in a khaki shirt and wearing a bushman’s slouch hat with corks hanging down over his face. ‘Get a look at that hat,’ he gasped. ‘Can I have a hat like that? Please, please.’
‘We’ll have to see,’ Ma said.
There wasn’t much traffic now, except for a few rattling trucks overtaking them, leading Ronan to complain if they didn’t speed up they’d be spending the night sleeping in the car.
‘Better be safe than sorry,’ Dad said.
No sooner had he said that than they had to slow down as a school bus pulled up in front of them to let a group of schoolchildren get off near a railway crossing. One of the children ran out in front of the bus without looking, causing her father to brake hard, sending everyone flying forward.
‘For heaven’s sake be careful, James!’ Ma shrieked. ‘You could’ve killed him. Us too.’
‘It wasn’t Dad’s fault,’ Ronan barked. ‘How the heck did he know the kid was going to run out?’
He sounded so cross that Ma gave him a stern look. Lillie had never really heard him snarl at her mother before, so she thought what was happening must be really getting under his skin. Ma now handed around some sandwiches and a bottle of warm lemonade and paper cups.
‘Yuk,’ Freddie grimaced when he took a sip of lemonade. ‘It tastes like it’s been in the oven. And these sandwiches are all soggy.’
By the time they finally arrived at Gullumbindy everyone’s nerves were on edge. Even Lillie and Ronan were niggling at each other. It seemed to be a small village, not as big as Sneem but bigger than Castlecove. There were a couple of churches, a tiny school, a hotel, a post office attached to someone’s house, a corner store, a sort of café and about twenty houses that Lillie could see; there were probably a lot mo
re she couldn’t see. Whereas in Sneem the houses were all stone or brick, these seemed to be built of a mixture of materials — stone, brick, wood, tin or a sort of plaster.
Dad turned into a laneway and pulled up in front of a house surrounded by derelict old cars, lorries and tractors that looked as though they had just been dumped there. Later Lillie would discover that Mr Hogan, who her father told her owned the Telegraph Hotel on the corner, salvaged spare parts from the wrecks, which he sold or used to repair other people’s vehicles. The wooden house needed a good coat of paint and the tin roof was badly rusted and seemed to be lifting in parts. As she stumbled out of the car with her brothers, Lillie imagined the horror on Maisie’s face if she were with them now. Grandma would surely faint in shock at the sight of the O’Sullivans’ new home, even if it was only temporary. Sheelagh would gape in astonishment and exclaim: Jesus, Mary and Joseph, is this where you’re going to live? Tell me you’re joking!
Lillie was sure that’s what Clara would say as well.
Whether it was the result of the long trip, or the sight before her, Lillie’s eyes watered up. She tried to blink the tears away and quickly glanced at Ronan, who was running a hand through his hair and looking sort of stunned. She then eyed Ma and wondered what she was thinking. But, as she stepped out from the car, Ma’s face gave little away.
Now the front door of the house burst open and a woman, who Lillie presumed was Mrs Hogan, came bustling out.
‘Hello there,’ she called, rushing down the path to greet the family. She was tiny with a happy smile and tightly curled dark hair speckled with grey; her dress was a sensible navy blue and she wore black lace-up shoes and white socks.
Lillie’s father moved forward to take Mrs Hogan’s hand and introduced himself. ‘And this is my wife, Kathleen.’
‘You poor mite,’ Mrs Hogan greeted Ma, false teeth clacking. ‘Being let down by Mr Malone like that. I can’t imagine what the man was thinking of. Not picking you up when he said he would. And not answering his phone.’ She gestured towards the road they’d just driven. ‘And that trip’s the pits. You must all be dead on your feet.’ She looked around and went over and gave Freddie’s ear a gentle pull. ‘Including you, young fella.’
The Homestead on the River Page 11