‘You’re very kind. I wonder if I could take you up on the offer of a bed for my little girl.’
‘Too right. Mabel, take them through the back.’
They were led into a small plain room at the back of the one-storey building. Its wooden walls were painted in the same way as the main room, but were a reddish pink. There were two beds, one against each wall.
‘Ain’t much,’ said Mabel, eyeing Jenny’s clothes with some awe, ‘but most folk manage to make out.’
‘Thank you, it’s lovely. And it’s so kind of you ‒’
‘Rubbish, what else d’you expect? Always a bed for a traveller. Same everywhere. But you’re a new chum, I reckon.’
‘I only arrived in Sydney a few days ago.’
‘So what brings you here, Missus … er …?’
‘Armstrong,’ said Jenny.
The welcoming light suddenly waned on Mabel Daniell’s broad face. ‘Mrs Armstrong?’
‘Yes.’
‘You mean, Ron’s wife?’
‘You didn’t know he was married?’
A pause. ‘He never mentioned it,’ said Mrs Daniell.
‘I see.’
Baird had busied herself undressing Heather, who was practically asleep on her feet. Mrs Daniell led the way back into the living room.
‘Bob,’ she said, subdued, ‘this is Mrs Armstrong.’
‘Yuwah?’ said her husband, turning from the bottle and glasses he was setting out.
‘Ron’s wife.’
‘His wife?’
‘Yair.’
‘Oh,’ said Bob. ‘Oh, Jesus.’
Clearly it was a surprise to both of them. Jenny said in a small voice, ‘I’m sorry if I’ve given you a shock.’
‘Nah, I suppose we should have thought of it,’ said Bob with a shrug. ‘But hereabouts you never ask a feller what’s his past and any of that. He never mentioned a wife so we just took it he was single.’
‘Of course.’
‘Listen, missus, I don’t know if you know … I mean to say, there’s an awkward thing …’
‘You mean about Dinah Bowerby?’
‘Jesus,’ said Bob again, blowing out his breath.
‘That’s why I’m here.’ She hesitated. ‘Where is my husband, Mr Daniell?’
‘Ron? He’s off camping with the Abos.’
‘With the …?’
‘The blacks ‒ I got a family of Abos, the men work as herders and so on, the women cook for them. Ron’s off staying with them for a few days.’
‘But what on earth for?’
‘Trying to get some secrets out of ’em, about how they dye their cloth.’
Suddenly Jenny smiled. That sounded like the Ronald Armstrong she knew. He hadn’t been utterly changed by this new land or this new woman, after all.
‘If you’re wondering,’ Mrs Daniell put in, ‘Dinah isn’t with him. She’s got a job at Durrumurra, about eight miles away.’ She hesitated. ‘Couldn’t have ’em together here. Wouldn’t have been right.’
‘No,’ said Jenny. ‘I understand that.’ She sat down on a wooden chair against the wall. ‘And the camp where the Aborigines are ‒ is it far?’
‘Nah, five minutes on a horse, longer if you walk.’
So in the morning at first light Jenny set out after being shown the way by Bob Daniell.
And there on the bank of a stream, sitting between two coal black bodies daubed with red clay, she saw at last the familiar figure of her husband.
Chapter Nineteen
The next few moments were the most heart-stopping in Jenny’s life.
She came to a standstill among the sharp-scented grasses. She was about sixty or seventy yards from the group, who sat facing her. Ronald had his head bent towards one of the black men, to whom he was speaking earnestly.
The breeze flirted the skirts of her muslin gown, one that Ronald had always been fond of, filmy grey over green. The movement caught his attention. He turned to look.
Blank astonishment swept across his face. Then disbelief. Then, frighteningly, she saw horror ‒ and was stricken until she realised it was horror at what he thought was a phantom, horror at the idea he was having delusions.
But then the attitude of the other men reassured him. One was staring in impassive silence at her, the other had raised his arm and was pointing, saying something in a low voice.
Ronald gave a wild yell of delight. Next moment he was splashing through the shallow stream. He ran to greet her, streaks of weed and yellow mud on his canvas boots.
‘Jenny! Jenny! Are you real!’
She held out her arms. The next moment they were twined together, rocking with the momentum of his arrival, hugging each other, laughing and crying, one spirit in two bodies that had been apart too long.
When he let her go she was too breathless to speak but he was full of tumbling words. ‘The blackfellows have been saying for days that someone was coming to me. But you ‒! How could I ever have guessed? Jenny, I can’t believe it!’
She leaned against him. ‘I’m real, I’m here. Ronald, I’ve had such a journey to find you!’
‘My dearest, sweetest girl ‒ what on earth ‒ when did you arrive?’
‘A few days ago. I’ve come from Sydney. Heather and I ‒’
‘Heather? Here?’
‘Yes, I brought your daughter ‒’
‘But I thought she couldn’t ‒’
‘She’s survived the journey very ‒’
‘All the way from Galashiels! What ship ‒’
‘The Larksong. I was lucky enough to get a cabin just when I needed one ‒’
‘But why? My dearest Jenny, why?’
She stood away from him so she could look up into his face. She said, after a moment of serious silence, ‘You know why, husband.’
‘No, indeed I ‒’ He broke off. He frowned. ‘Ach!’ he exclaimed in disgust. ‘Someone’s been gossiping.’
‘Now, Ronald man, don’t get angry about it. What did you expect ‒ that because I was so far off I would never hear of it? You ken fine that folk like to spread bad news, and so I heard about the other woman ‒’
‘Henry Chalmers, I suppose!’
‘It doesn’t matter who. What matters is, that I came here to find out whether you and I had a marriage left, or whether you wanted to be free ‒’
‘Free?’
‘Aye, of course, to wed Dinah.’
‘My God,’ he groaned, shaking his head and letting his hands drop from about her shoulders, ‘you even know her name!’
‘Well, my love, you haven’t exactly made a secret of it,’ she rejoined. ‘One of the first things the Daniells said to me was that my arriving was a little awkward because of Dinah.’
‘Dinah isn’t here!’ he said sharply. ‘I want you to understand ‒’
‘Yes, and I want to understand, husband. You and I must talk it through from beginning to end. So let’s go back to the farmhouse so you can meet your daughter again, and then we’ll plan what to do next.’
He turned to look back, but the Aborigines had vanished. He muttered, ‘I’ll never get them to talk so long again.’
‘What was it you were talking about?’
‘Colours. They make a rough kind of cloth with wool they find on bushes and so forth. They colour it some strange shades. Ah well, I’ve lost that chance. They’ll probably be gone if I come back here again.’
‘What did you mean when you said they told you someone was coming?’
‘They’ve been saying that for about three days.’
‘But how could they possibly know?’
‘Oh, they know, I canna tell how. I think they pick up vibrations in the air, tremors in the stones. It’s uncanny …’
They fell into step together. She said, ‘You look different, Ronald.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, your face and arms are so tanned ‒ don’t you ever stay in the shade?’
‘Och, you soon get used to the sun if you
move about this country. And I’ve moved about. I’ve seen some strange things, Jenny. I first began to travel the district to get some idea of the wool situation. It’s complex ‒ the big wool stations send their wool to the docks and it’s already bought by the big merchants, so it never goes to auction and the only chance to get at it would be when it reaches the London ‒’
‘I gathered as much when I went to look at the woolstores on the Quay ‒’
‘You’ve been there? Trust you to go straight to the heart of the matter!’ He laughed. ‘Oh, Jenny, I’d forgotten what it was like to talk to you! There’s never any need to labour a point with you.’
He gave her a little hug of appreciation, and she took advantage of it to stay leaning against him as they walked. Mention of Dinah Bowerby’s name had separated them from their first close contact. She was anxious not to let anything keep them apart even in minor ways if she could possibly avoid it.
‘I soon understood that only the small wool growers sent their clip to market at the ports, and I soon found that for many of them, it was easier to get the loads to Melbourne than to Sydney. I’ve been to Melbourne three times, Jenny ‒ a fine town, and at first I thought it was likely to become the queen of wool exporting.’
‘You don’t think so now?’
‘Well, it’s hard to say. There’s a lot more going on in Melbourne than in Sydney at the present moment. But when you compare the opportunities for shipping … Sydney must be the best harbour in the world, I imagine. It seems only logical and inevitable that in the end it will take over Melbourne’s present position. So if you’ve come to invest in Australian property I’d advise you to buy into a Sydney woolstore.’
‘I’ve other things on my mind at the moment,’ Jenny said rather drily.
He nodded without speaking. They walked on in silence for a moment.
‘Why did you stop writing, Ronald?’ she asked.
He seemed to be studying the wattle flowers they were passing. At length he said, ‘When I wrote that letter asking you to come out and make a new start here, it was a kind of … I don’t know … a sort of plea for you to understand.’
‘To understand what, my love?’
‘I don’t know, something … I felt we had gone wrong somewhere in the past and might do so again if I went back to Galashiels. But out here, where nobody cares who you’ve been or what you’ve done, I thought we could begin again. And then your reply …’
‘Yes?’
‘You didn’t understand.’
She sighed. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You wrote all about money and who owned what and whether it was good business … That wasn’t what I hoped to hear, lassie. I hoped you’d say, I’ll come as soon as I can.’
‘And here I am, Ronald ‒ later than you hoped, but not too late. Say it’s not too late, my dear.’
He stopped at her words, turned her to him, and kissed her with passion. And for the moment, that was answer enough.
When they reached the farm, Heather stood with Baird in the shade of the canopy over the door. Baird had dressed her in a crisp little dress of white duck trimmed with dark blue. Her tawny hair was held at both sides with bows of matching blue ribbons. She looked a picture.
Ronald left Jenny’s side to walk slowly up to the child. He stooped, put his arms about her, and drew her close. Heather’s arms didn’t twine about his neck as they would have done had it been Jenny who embraced her. But after a long hesitation Ronald heard a tiny whisper in his ear.
‘Papa?’
‘Yes, my wee sweetheart, it’s Papa! My, how you’ve grown! What a big girl you are! And here you are after coming in a big ship and trains and in a country cart ‒ what a big adventure for a big girl!’
He picked her up and swung her round. Any other child might have screamed in delight, but Heather let her head sink back to see the sky wheeling above her, and made a little singing sound of pleasure.
Baird came forward to steady her as Ronald put her down. ‘Well, maister, it’s yourself.’
‘Aye, and how are you, Baird?’
‘None the worse for seeing the family together again.’
‘Blunt as ever, I see. I’m surprised you came ‒ I’d have thought nothing would get you on a journey like this.’
‘It was Herself,’ Baird said in a low voice. ‘I couldna let her go alone and she was bent on it. “I will come again, my love, though ’twere ten thousand mile”.’
Ronald looked at her in surprise at the quotation. He had never thought of the maidservant as a reader of poetry. Baird held his eye, then nodded. Next moment she had turned her attention to Heather.
Breakfast at the Daniells’ was a strange meal that morning. Usually Bob was off and out long before this, to visit his flocks and herders over long distances. But politeness and curiosity had held him at home. His wife had prepared large quantities of the usual breakfast dishes ‒ eggs, lamb chops, porridge, sourdough scones. There were mountains of butter and huge jars of wild honey. The tea was strong and dark like plug tobacco.
The talk was general. Mrs Daniell tried to tempt Heather into speech by talking of the ponies in the back paddock. ‘Would you like to see them? There are two foals, one’s speckled on the flanks like a thrush from the Old Country.’
Heather nodded eagerly. She went off between Baird and Mabel Daniell without a backward glance. Bob went out to speak to his jackaroo and then said he had to go to the east creek where the water seemed to be drying up.
‘You’ll be right, though, Mabel will give you a meal at dinnertime if you want it, or you can take some tucker out as usual, Ron.’
‘Thanks, Bob, I think we’ll do that.’
Jenny took no part in the arranging. She was content to let Ronald lead the way. About nine o’clock, with the sun already very strong, they set off in a little trap drawn by a wiry pony with a picnic basket under their feet.
They drew up in a little clearing at a different point on the stream Jenny had seen already. There was a lean-to in the shade of the trees, constructed from woven twigs. Blankets were rolled at one end of a couch made of springy boughs and dried fern. There were the ashes of previous fires, a small pile of dry wood, and some bags and boxes hung from tree branches.
‘My country house,’ Ronald explained, ushering her forward. ‘The bags and boxes are my emergency supplies ‒ dried beans, flour, smoked fish.’
‘You live here?’
‘Sometimes.’
She stared up at him. This was a new Ronald Armstrong. ‘I didn’t know you could do this kind of thing.’
‘Och, it’s a throwback to my childhood ‒ I used to camp out in the wilds sometimes when I went on fishing trips with my father.’ He grinned. ‘It’s a lot more comfortable here than in the Ochills ‒ warmer and a lot drier.’
There was a fallen log with two or three yellow-breasted birds picking up insects from the bark. As the two humans approached, the birds looked up, then flew without haste up into the trees.
‘Yellowbobs,’ Ronald remarked. He fetched a blanket which he spread on the tree trunk. ‘The best chair for the visitor,’ he added, bowing Jenny to her place.
They sat side by side for a while in silence. The yellow-breasted birds flew down after a while to look at them. Off in the woods, other birds called harshly. A resinous smell hung heavy in the air. The sun glimmered through the leaves. The water in the shallow stream purled over the stones.
‘Why did you come?’ Ronald asked at last. ‘I mean, what brought you to the decision?’
‘I’ll tell you. Archie Brunton came back to Galashiels and proposed to me.’
‘Archie Brunton! What the devil was he up to, proposing to a married woman?’
‘He wanted me to divorce you, my love. He ‒’
‘You never thought seriously of marrying Archie Brunton?’
‘No,’ she agreed, ‘and I knew why when I thought about it. It was because I could only have one husband and that was you, Ronald lad.’
‘There now,’ he said. He took her hand in his. ‘And I’d come to the same conclusion ‒ that I had only one wife and it was you, Jenny lass.’
‘So what have you to tell me about Dinah Bowerby?’
She felt his fingers tighten round hers. He took a long moment to frame a reply.
‘I don’t want you to think I’m excusing myself. I’ve behaved badly, and I’m ashamed. But the fact of the matter is, though I like and admire the girl, there could never be anything lasting between us.’
‘But you’ve been lovers.’
‘Yes.’
‘And now?’
‘Now I’m sorry for it, and I’ve tried to explain it to Dinah, but she … she’s a passionate creature, is Dinah. She won’t listen to what she doesn’t want to hear.’
‘You mean she won’t let you go?’
She was watching him with a steady glance, and at this question she saw him colour.
‘You see, I thought you were off at the other side of the world, and from the way you answered my letter it seemed as if we had nothing in common any more ‒’
‘Ronald!’ She was sharp. ‘I don’t want to condemn, but you couldn’t have forgotten we have a child!’
He gave a sigh of regret. ‘Aye, I forgot that ‒ or at least I wouldn’t let myself remember. You have to realise, Jenny, that she had gone so far from me even before I left home. She seemed not to like me, and wouldn’t speak to me ‒’
‘But she never speaks to anybody ‒’
‘And people were saying she was weak-minded and I … I was ashamed of her. So I was glad to forget I had a daughter.’
The painful honesty of this touched Jenny. She said with gentleness, ‘I understand. Go on.’
‘I met Dinah when I was on my travels in the Riverina. It’s a big country, and she was working at a sheep station up by Hay. The shearing gang had come in, there was a fight, and the best thing seemed to be to get her out of there, so when I left next morning I took her with me.’
He stopped. He moved restlessly, let go Jenny’s hand, then resumed his grip. ‘I never thought I’d ever be discussing this with anyone else, let alone my wife,’ he muttered.
‘I need to understand, Ronald.’
He nodded. ‘Well, on the journey we became lovers. She seemed to regard me as a sort of Sir Galahad ‒ it’s flattering, you know, to have a woman much younger than yourself fall into your arms. And she’s … she’s very pretty.’
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