The Homestead on the River

by Rosie MacKenzie

  ‘You poor wee mite,’ Kathleen sobbed, leaning over and caressing the dog’s ears.

  ‘He was so fond of that dog, it’s hard to work out why he’d leave him like this.’

  Totally inappropriately a kookaburra started to laugh in the gum tree above them, its shrill cackling reverberating across the water.

  ‘He must have been desperate.’

  ‘He didn’t do it near the homestead,’ James said. ‘Maybe he was worried you or one of the children might find him on your own.’ He took a deep breath. ‘He’s been my friend for so long I can’t imagine not having him around. And,’ he said, glancing away and back again, ‘your friend too.’ He pulled Kathleen close. ‘I’m so sorry, darling. So very sorry you had to be here to discover him like this.’

  ‘Can I go to him?’

  James shook his head. ‘It’s best you remember him as he was. Not how he is now. That image would remain in your mind forever. It would erase the image of the fun-loving fellow with a heart of gold that we both knew.’ He lifted his hand and wiped a tear from Kathleen’s cheek. ‘That’s how we should remember him. Both you and I. And the children.’

  ‘What about wild animals? Surely they’ll get to him.’

  ‘I’ll let the police know straightaway. They’ll organise to take him to the morgue.’

  Kathleen nodded slowly. ‘Yes. I suppose that’s best.’ She rested her head on James’s shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry for you, darling,’ she sobbed. ‘So very sorry.’

  ‘As I am for you.’ James sighed and looked back towards the mine. ‘I must admit I’m loath to leave him here like this. But despite it seeming like a clear case of suicide, with alcohol surely the cause, the police will have to do their investigations.’

  He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Kathleen to wipe her tears. Then he took it back and wiped his own eyes. As if they were cemented to the log they sat and stared at each other in shock until Kathleen sighed. ‘It’s the total pointlessness of what he’s done. That’s what I can’t understand.’

  James gave her a small smile. ‘All I can say is I’m glad Dermot’s not here to see what’s happened. He and Finn got on so well. He’d be devastated.’

  ‘Yes,’ Kathleen said. ‘He would, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘The three of us spent so much time together when we were young … and…’

  ‘I know … And Jessica’s sure to be shattered as well. She was so fond of him.’

  James stood up and moved away. He stared past the mine to the far hills. Please don’t bring Jessica into this, he felt like screaming out loud. If only Kathleen knew how Finn had paid that woman off for him when he was last in London. Got her off James’s back. What better sign of a friend was there than that? He took a deep breath to expunge Jessica from his mind. If only it was that easy.

  ‘Come,’ he said, turning around and beckoning for Kathleen to go with him, ‘there’s nothing else we can do here at the moment. We should head back to Gullumbindy and report what we’ve found to the police.’

  Reluctantly Dingo followed them back along the bank, down to the river, and up again to the Eureka Park homestead. Now what James had thought was going to be their new home took on a totally different appearance. He glanced at the empty stables and wondered what would become of it all now. Had Finn sent the horses away because he knew what he was going to do? James felt guilty for even thinking it but he also wondered how he could provide for his family without a job. Or even a home to live in.

  He opened the back door of the Holden and gestured for Dingo to jump in. At first the dog refused, but then relented. James held the front door open for Kathleen, then reversed away from the homestead and drove miserably down the long driveway to the front gate. As he shut it behind them, he muttered his thoughts aloud.

  ‘What a waste,’ he said, kicking the dirt with the heel of his boot. ‘What a damn stupid waste.’

  * * *

  James drove in silence as they made their way back to Gullumbindy, lost in his thoughts. Beside him, Kathleen was doing the same.

  When they got close to town, she put her hand on his knee. ‘Oh. James … He must’ve been in such a dreadful state to do something like that.’

  ‘Yes,’ James said. ‘He must’ve been. Or so drunk he didn’t know what he was doing.’

  ‘I wonder what set him off drinking again.’

  ‘God knows. It doesn’t take much to set an alcoholic off. Could have been anything.’

  ‘And we’re unlikely to ever find out,’ Kathleen said. ‘I wonder when Dawn’s friend Winifred was out there last. Remember Dawn said she had asked her to keep an eye on him when she left for Sydney.’

  James shook his head. ‘We don’t even know how to contact Dawn.’

  Kathleen nodded. ‘True. Finn said she’d moved a few times in Sydney.’

  James parked the car in the dirt parking lot in front of the police station. Kathleen turned to him. ‘Do you want me to come in with you?’

  ‘No. You stay here. This is something I need to do on my own.’

  Slowly he got out of the car and made his way up the few stone steps to the front door of the red brick building. Inside was a lone policeman, a gangly fellow with closely cropped dark hair wearing a uniform. He was perched on a high stool on the other side of a tall wooden counter.

  ‘G’day,’ he said to James, standing up and leaning on the counter. ‘What can I do for you, mate?’

  When James opened his mouth he found no words came out.

  ‘You okay, cobber?’ the policeman asked, looking at him worriedly.

  ‘Yes,’ James finally said. ‘Yes, I am. It’s just that I’ve got some very sad news.’

  He then told him who he was and what he’d found out at Eureka Park.

  ‘Blimey,’ the policeman exclaimed, running a hand over his sunburnt forehead. ‘Tell me you’re joking.’

  ‘I wish more than anything I was joking.’

  The policeman, seeing how distressed James was, went out the back to fetch a glass of water.

  ‘Thank you,’ James said, holding the glass and taking a long drink. ‘It was the shock, that’s all. So unexpected.’

  ‘I can imagine that, mate. I’ll get another bloke over from Quirindi. That’s the nearest back-up. And we’ll head straight on out.’ He paused. ‘Can I drive you somewhere?’

  ‘My wife’s outside waiting. But thank you all the same.’

  In the car James slumped down in the seat and looked into Kathleen’s anxious eyes. ‘He’s going to get another fellow to come over from the town of Quirindi. Then they’ll both head on out. No doubt they’ll be in touch.’

  Back at the Hogans’ house, Marcus and Freddie were playing hopscotch outside and Lillie and Ronan had gone for a walk to the milk bar to get a milkshake. Bill Hogan had arrived home and was on the verandah waiting for them with Martha. He was a tall angular man with weather-beaten skin and eyes faded from days in the harsh Australian sun. Beside him was a cattle dog who started to bark when he saw James and Kathleen with Dingo in tow.

  ‘Enough of that, Ned,’ Bill said, putting his hand on the dog’s collar.

  He had an open, friendly face and James immediately took to him when he threw him a warm smile, making the deep creases around his eyes scrunch like corrugated cardboard.

  ‘G’day, mate,’ he said holding out his roughened hand. He then smiled at Kathleen. ‘How you be, Mrs O’Sullivan?’ He looked from her to Dingo, who was panting heavily. ‘Where’d you get this mutt from? Looks a bit like Malone’s.’

  When James told him what they had found out at Eureka Park he and his wife looked aghast.

  ‘Bloody hell, mate,’ Bill said.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Martha added, rushing over to put an arm around Kathleen. ‘What a dreadful shock you must have got.’

  ‘What would the bastard do something like that for?’ Bill said. ‘Particularly when you were all arriving.’

  Martha sighed. ‘What was the man think
ing?’

  ‘He must have been desperate,’ Kathleen said. ‘Really desperate.’

  James nodded. ‘It looks as though it was the drink. Perhaps he was so disappointed with himself for giving in to temptation he thought it was the only way out.’ He paused. ‘His ex-wife Dawn wrote to us when she first separated from Finn and said a friend of hers, Winifred, was going to look in on him. I wonder when she last went out.’ He paused. ‘Do you know a Winifred?’

  ‘Winifred Black. Of course. She used to help out in the corner store, but I don’t think she’s there any more. And I haven’t seen her around lately.’ She looked at Bill. ‘Have you seen her, luv?’

  Bill shook his head. ‘No, as a matter of fact I haven’t. Maybe she’s away.’

  ‘A nice lady,’ Martha said. ‘Married to a no-hoper, but there you go. God knows what she sees in him.’ She let out a long sigh. ‘Come, I’ll get you a cool glass of ginger ale; this is just too much to take in.’

  After pouring them a glass each from the fridge and glancing anxiously from James to Kathleen, she sighed again. ‘Lordy me … What the dickens will you do? I mean … With no job? And no house of your own to live in?’

  James waited a while before answering. ‘I have no idea. No idea at all.’

  Bill came over and placed his hand on his shoulder. ‘Why don’t you come on down to the pub? I’ll buy you a beer. You must be crying out for one by now.’

  ‘And I’ll make you a cup of tea,’ Martha said to Kathleen.

  ‘The ginger ale will be fine,’ Kathleen said. ‘But you go along and have a beer, James. If you don’t mind,’ she said to Martha, ‘I might have a short rest while the children are out and about. Gather my thoughts before we tell them what we found.’

  ‘Of course, dear. I’ll occupy them if they come back inside.’

  * * *

  Down at the Telegraph Hotel, which Bill told him was originally built in 1867, James sat at the polished wooden bar and Bill introduced him to the bartender, a man called Barney, who sported a thick moustache and a sunburnt, jolly face and poured them each a beer.

  ‘To the soul of Finn Malone,’ Bill said, lifting his glass. ‘He was a bloody good bloke.’

  James nodded wretchedly, seeing his forlorn reflection in the thick glass mirror behind the bar. ‘He was indeed. Such a waste.’ Then James used a word he hardly ever used. ‘A bloody sad waste.’

  ‘It’s that all right, mate. Mind you, it’s your family you’ve got to look out for now.’ After a moment he placed his hand on James’s shoulder as he looked around the room. ‘How do you fancy running this pub for a while? Until you work out what to do. If you’re good enough for Finn Malone to want you as a partner in his horse stud, you’re good enough for me.’

  James followed his gaze. Despite the wooden flyscreen on the door, the room was buzzing with flies. At the end of the bar a rowdy group of men in mud-splattered work gear smoked roll-your-owns, guffawing and cursing, some downing beers straight from the can. In Ireland if James went to the pub the least he would do was put on a clean shirt and drink from a glass. ‘Run this hotel?’ he said to Bill in disbelief.

  ‘That’d be it, mate. It only has half a dozen rooms. Old Barney’s due to go on leave for a couple of months. He virtually runs the place on his own. Well, there’s a girl that comes in and does the rooms late morning and comes back again in the evening to waitress in the dining room. And Nancy from down the road does the cooking. Her son’s looking for a job so I reckon he could help you handle the bar.’

  James shook his head. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he might end up running a pub. Besides, where would the family live? When he voiced his concerns, Bill gave him a lopsided grin.

  ‘Well, that’s the point I was getting to, mate. The missus is due to go down to Sydney for an operation next week. Women’s business. We’ll stay with her sister. After that I said I’d take her on a holiday to our daughter up on the Gold Coast. You could stay on at our place while we’re away. Reckon we’ll be gone up to a couple of months. And, as I said, with Barney away you can work the bar and keep an eye on this place for me. See what happens after that. I’d pay you fifteen quid a week for working the bar and watching over things.’

  James took a breath. Although Bill’s offer was one of the most generous acts James had ever come across, he had no idea what Kathleen would think. Or the rest of the family, for that matter. But what choice did they have? Even if it was only for a short time, this was an opportunity they had to take. Obviously they couldn’t go and live at Eureka Park. Now that Finn was dead a hold would be put on his estate. To go back to Sydney was not an option. And going back to Ireland was out of the question with the little money they had.

  ‘What you’ve offered is extremely kind,’ he said to Bill. ‘Would you mind if I took a little time to think it over? Talk to Kathleen?’

  ‘Not a problem at all, mate. Being Irish I presume you’re a Catholic — why don’t you go on up to the church on your own for a while? It’s the one up the hill behind the hotel. Come to terms with your loss … remember your mate. I’ll go on back to the house and see how everyone’s getting along. Maybe I could take the young blokes down to the river to do a spot of yabbying before dinner?’

  ‘Thank you,’ James said. ‘That would be wonderful.’

  Without going back to the Hogans’ house, James walked up to the small wooden church on the hill. He sat alone in the back pew with his head on his hands, trying to comprehend what had happened. If only they had got here a little earlier. Not that they could have afforded it, but if they’d flown, rather than come by ship, perhaps this would never have happened.

  It goes to show how you think you know someone so well, James thought miserably, when you really don’t know them at all.

  He stood and moved towards the altar; he picked up a white candle and lit it with a match from the box beneath the brass candle-holder. Placing the candle in one of the holders, he lifted his eyes to the altar.

  ‘To you, my dear friend,’ he said, tears streaming down his face. ‘The best friend a man could ever hope for.’

  He knelt and said another prayer for the repose of Finn’s soul.

  As he traipsed back along the road to the Hogans’ house, he thought of Kathleen. She’d be as flabbergasted as he was by Bill’s kind offer. Yet in the end she was pragmatic about it.

  ‘There’s nothing else we can do, is there?’ she said when he told her. ‘Not unless we want to be out on the street.’

  And James had to agree she was right.

  * * *

  Under a clear blue sky, to the sound of a lone piper playing Finn’s favourite Irish ballad, ‘The Wearing of the Green’, Kathleen stood with her family as Finn’s remains were lowered into a grave under a towering jacaranda. She watched the purple blossoms floating on the soft breeze as they dropped onto the ground where she stood. She put her arm around James’s waist and laid her head on his shoulder. Tears streamed down her face. Ronan stood stoically beside her, holding Freddie by the hand. Lillie and Marcus stood next to them, their faces grim and sad.

  Kathleen watched Father Fogarty, the affable parish priest with his shock of red hair, say a prayer over the grave. At first he’d been loath to go against the Church’s teaching that a person who’d committed suicide could not have a Catholic service.

  Then he’d relented. ‘Sure now in Ireland it would not be possible,’ he’d said to the Hogans, Kathleen and James as they stood in the living room of the presbytery. ‘But, ah … We’re not in Ireland now. And when all’s said and done who are we mere mortals to deny the poor man such a send-off? I spoke to the bishop and he’s kindly given me a dispensation to conduct a short service, though I’m afraid we can’t be giving him a requiem mass.’

  At the graveside Kathleen thought of the first time she had met Finn. It was at a dance in Calcutta, not long before the war, when Finn had been working on his uncle’s rubber plantation a short way out of town. Kathleen and Jess
ica had been there together, wearing the new tulle dresses their ayahs had made for them. Jessica’s was lemon, Kathleen’s green and white. She even remembered how her shoes were covered in the same green material. The girls were home from boarding school and it was the first dance either of them had been to. Jessica had taken one look at Finn standing on the far wall, smoking a cigarette and looking brazenly across the room to where the girls stood.

  ‘Take a peek over there,’ she whispered to Kathleen behind her hand. ‘The dishy one wearing the blue shirt. If I stare at him long enough, do you think he’ll ask me to dance?’

  However, much to Jessica’s annoyance it was Kathleen Finn asked to dance.

  ‘Finn Malone from County Cork would be mighty grateful if you’d give him the honour of this dance,’ he had said, giving a wink with his mischievous eyes and making Kathleen blush from the tips of her toes to the top of her neatly coiffed hair.

  Now as she stood grieving under the jacaranda, she remembered his laugh. His love of life. His magnificently profane sense of humour. The way his face creased with glee when he got a reaction to his wickedly risqué jokes. For the rest of those school holidays and the following two years, after Jessica and Kathleen had left school and were living back in Calcutta permanently, the two girls had hung out with Finn and his friends, horseriding, playing tennis and partying at the Slap and Tollygunge clubs. It was then that Kathleen discovered he was a heavy drinker. Although she and Finn were never romantically involved, he was one of the best friends she had.

  Poor, poor Finn. So totally without pomp or pretence and so incredibly generous, offering James a partnership when the family was in difficulties. A vision of Finn playing the harp at Rathgarven flashed before her eyes and she had to blink hard. Kathleen had always thought it bizarre to see larger-than-life Finn playing the harp so beautifully with his big workman’s hands. She felt dreadful that she had been so cross with him, thinking he had let them down. She should have known there was no way he would have done such a thing deliberately. Although if she was brutally honest, what he had done now was letting them down in the worst possible way. If it hadn’t been for Dingo, Finn might still be down that mine, and no one would have any idea of what had happened to him. All she could imagine was that his brain had become so addled he hadn’t thought through the consequences — that James and his family would be stranded without a home, and James without a job. If only the family had got to Gullumbindy earlier, they could have stopped him. That thought would haunt Kathleen for the rest of her life. As it was sure to haunt James.