by Di Morrissey
They kissed ardently and longingly, gasping for breath and smiling at the same time.
Ben was first to pull away. He took Kate’s hands in his and glanced down at them. ‘Kate, I want to marry you. Will you? Marry me?’ He looked up at her shyly and seriously.
Kate’s smile lit up her eyes and face. ‘Oh yes, Ben! Yes.’ Tenderly she reached up and kissed the tip of his nose.
Still holding her hands, he spoke seriously. ‘Kate, I had to leave, to let you grow and, well, test the waters a little bit. Meet other people, enjoy the lifestyle you should be leading.’ As Kate began to protest, he put a finger to her lips. ‘And I had to leave to try and make something of my life in order to offer you more than just my love. I think I can do that now. I know you are tied to Zanana, but I have my own career now. Well, I’m beginning it anyway. So somehow I think we could make it work. Do you understand?’
‘Of course I do, Ben. Not that it would have made any difference to me, it’s just your male pride. But I’m pleased and proud of what you’re doing.’
‘I haven’t spoken to Mrs B. I’d better do that. I did speak to Hock Lee though.’ Holding hands they began heading back along the violet-hued walkway.
‘What did Hock Lee say to you?’
‘I told him I wanted to marry you. I felt I could support you as my wife, but naturally I couldn’t afford to support Zanana nor could I take you away from here. He suggested the first step would be to propose to you. I admit I was nervous. I thought you might be angry with me and turn me away. I haven’t written for ages.’
‘You didn’t give me much of a chance to say no,’ smiled Kate. ‘And, Ben, I want to share everything with you. Zanana is my heritage but it will be our home and we must share everything equally.’
Ben squeezed her hand. ‘We’ll see. Let Hock Lee advise us.’
Gladys Butterworth promptly burst into tears as Ben finally blurted out their news over a cup of tea on the verandah. Mrs Butterworth reached out and patted his cheek. ‘It’s so obvious, you two belong together. I knew you were fond of each other, but goodness me, you’ve known each other since you were children.’
‘That’s why when you all sent Kate off for her social season, I kept away. I knew she might find someone else and choose a different sort of life or bring someone back to Zanana.’
‘I’m sure she had offers, but I can see where her heart has always been. I think it very good of you to work so hard and carve a niche for yourself, Ben. Your parents are so proud of you . . . Have you told them?’
‘Not yet. They’re still in Bangalow. I’ve been planning to go and visit there myself. Now I have a very good reason. I know I can’t give Kate as grand a life as her parents might have wished, but no one could give her more love or care than I will, Mrs B.’
Mrs Butterworth looked at the earnest young man before her. He might not be rich materially, but he was doing something to make the world a better and beautiful place, and he and Kate shared similar ideals. Ben had matured and was sure of himself; he made no excuses for his humble background, but pledged to work hard and he would give more than many men ever could when it came to love, care and support. Kate would be a happy woman with him by her side in life.
‘I wish Harold were here to share this moment,’ she sniffed.
Ben spoke softly. ‘I’m sure he knows. I often think I feel his presence in the sunken garden.’
‘Well, now I have something to think about, don’t I? A wedding. What are your plans?’
Ben held up his arms in mock surrender. ‘I don’t know, I’m sure you and Kate will handle that. I’m happy to go along with whatever Kate wishes.’
‘Oh, I must tell Wally. And can we tell the remaining fellows? As soon as Hock Lee is back, we’ll have a celebration.’
A week later Hock Lee arrived back in Sydney and travelled to Zanana as soon as he heard the news.
Kate rushed to meet him as he stepped from the car just as she’d always done since a small girl.
He embraced her and held her tightly. ‘My dear girl, I am so happy for you both. You are so right for each other.’ As he hugged the young woman he had watched over since the night she was born, his heart was filled with love and a deep desire that her life be one of joy. She had suffered such loss and, despite the love and care he and the Butterworths had shown her, marrying Ben and starting a family of her own would fulfil her life. He held her gently at arm’s length and stared into her sparkling azure eyes. ‘You are very, very sure?’
She smiled contentedly at him. ‘Need you ask, Hock Lee?’
He laughed. ‘No, your happiness shimmers from you. Where is the lucky young man?’
‘Nervously waiting for you in the sitting room. Though I understand he spoke to you some time ago.’
‘He did. And I was most impressed with his plans, his promises, but most of all, and most importantly, his obvious love for you, Kate. You know each other very well, which is a great plus.’
‘It’s true, we feel very comfortable together. But now, since becoming engaged, I feel sort of different. A bit shy and, well, nervous. It’s hit me what a big step I’m taking. Not that I have a moment’s doubt.’
Hock Lee nodded as they headed indoors. ‘That’s perfectly natural. Well, tell me about the wedding plans. I, of course, will pay for the wedding as your godfather. So . . . are we taking over the biggest church in Sydney with a thousand guests?’
‘Absolutely not. You’ll be surprised . . . well, perhaps not — you know what simple people Ben and I are at heart.’
Hock Lee stopped and took her arm. ‘But Kate, you only get married once! You must celebrate such an event in a suitable manner.’
Kate patted his arm. ‘Hock Lee . . . it will be special.’
And despite Mrs Butterworth’s misgivings at Kate and Ben’s wedding plans, it was special. They didn’t want an elaborate wedding. ‘Nothing fancy,’ Kate kept insisting. Initially Kate didn’t even want a church wedding. ‘Let’s exchange vows in the garden at Zanana. I’m sure the Reverend will agree.’
Mrs Butterworth was distraught. ‘Kate, I’ve never heard of such a thing. What will people think? It won’t seem like you’re married properly.’
Reluctantly Kate agreed to be wed in St Johns, the little sandstone church in Kincaid. Ben was affable and went along with whatever Kate arranged. He too had thought a simple ceremony in the garden was a nice idea. ‘Though if you really wanted a holy outdoor place, the rainforest would be perfect. It’s like a green cathedral.’
Ever since he’d returned from seeing his parents in Bangalow, Ben had talked a lot of the beauty of the surrounding tropical countryside to the north. So Kate had suggested they go there for their honeymoon.
‘But Kate, my lovely, that doesn’t sound very special. I mean, after all, your parents went to India!’
‘Anywhere with you is special, Ben. Besides, we have a little bit of India right here at Zanana.’ She hugged him. ‘We’ll travel in years to come. I want to see some of my own country.’
Kate wore her mother’s traditional wedding dress of creamy satin with a full skirt flowing into a small train. The lace wedding veil, which had belonged to Kate’s Scottish grandmother, was unfolded from a camphor-laden trunk and anchored to her long golden hair by a circlet of baby pink roses. Mrs Butterworth felt Kate should have her hair professionally styled atop her head, but when she appeared with her golden waves falling softly down her back, Mrs Butterworth sighed and admitted she looked like a fairy princess.
Mrs Butterworth felt a momentary pang that Kate didn’t have girlfriends or relatives she could call upon to act as bridesmaids but Kate had cheerfully announced she would have a guard of honour instead, made up of the six soldiers still living at Zanana.
For the men, none of whom had close family ties and who regarded Zanana as their home, it was a great honour. They got together and brushed up their old uniforms, polished their shoes and medals and marched to the church entrance, forming a guard of thre
e a side. They saluted smartly as Kate, swathed in the Brussel’s lace veil like an ethereal sprite, alighted from the carriage drawn by four white horses and, on Hock Lee’s arm, entered the church to the swirl of bagpipes.
And it was these men who, grinning broadly, drew from their uniforms bags of rose petals which they scattered over the bridal party as Kate and Ben emerged into the sunshine outside the church. Mrs Butterworth had barely stopped crying all morning, and Nettie Johnson, a little teary herself, kept handing her fresh cotton handkerchiefs. How Gladys wished Harold could be with them all, how proud he would be of his beautiful Kate, and so glad she seemed to have found such happiness. At last, Zanana would be a real home again.
Before leaving the church, Kate stood in the open carriage and threw over her shoulder her bouquet of Niphetos roses, fragrant stephanotis and tuberoses. It was caught by a surprised Gladys Butterworth.
Nettie and Gladys, along with the relief cook who came in when needed, had prepared a lavish wedding breakfast which they set out under a marquee Wally had erected on the top lawns of Zanana so guests could sit and look at the terraced gardens sweeping down to the river. The group of guests was not large. Families who had worked on the estate, new colleagues that Ben worked with, Hock Lee and his sisters, Wally Simpson, Ben’s parents, the six vets, and friends and acquaintances from the village. Charles Dashford and Mrs Dashford Senior were there and Kate was secretly glad that Hector and his wife were on holiday in Europe.
Over the past weeks her wedding had been uppermost in her mind and Kate had pushed business matters to one side.
With the few simple toasts over and the cake cut, Hock Lee drew Kate and Ben to one side and asked them to slip away for a few moments and join him at the Indian House.
Its sweet familiar smell of sandalwood greeted them at the door as Kate slipped her feet from her satin slippers and, holding up the hem of wedding dress, stepped inside. The sunlight splintered in coloured jewelled fragments on the marble floor and Ben smiled in delight.
‘This little place was very special to your mother, Kate, and to your father who built it as a special gift for her. So it seems appropriate that we share these few moments in here, close to them,’ began Hock Lee.
‘I always feel my mother’s spirit is in here,’ said Kate softly, tears welling in her eyes.
Ben took her hand. ‘Let’s sit down.’ Unselfconsciously they sank to the smooth white floor and sat in a small circle.
Hock Lee drew a basket to him that had been resting near the wall. From this he took a small crystal jug and drew out the stopper. Taking the linked hands of Ben and Kate, he sprinkled drops of rose water into the palms of their hands.
‘Water is a symbol of purity and patience. Drops of water can wear away a stone, so this symbolises the essence and durability of your love for each other,’ he explained.
From the basket he took a small thorny twig, its base wrapped in damp cloth, which he handed to Ben. ‘This is a rose for you to plant and watch grow and bloom in the same way as your life together will continue to blossom.’
He dipped into the bag once more, bringing out a soft velvet pouch. Into Kate’s hand he dropped a cluster of creamy pearls. She held them up and gasped. It was a single strand of small perfect pearls, and hanging from the centre was a magnificent, golden-toned pearl as big as the tip of Hock Lee’s thumb.
He clasped the necklace around her throat. ‘This is my wedding gift to you. It belonged to your mother.’
Ben looked at the luminous pearls glowing against the silky whiteness of Kate’s skin. ‘It’s beautiful, Hock Lee, and it suits you, Kate. Perfect for you, in fact,’ said Ben.
Kate tenderly touched the pearls. ‘I don’t know what to say. It’s so beautiful, Hock Lee.’ She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
‘And, Ben, for you, a piece of sentiment shared by Kate’s father and myself.’ He handed Ben a gold signet ring, the top set with a small, chunky gold nugget. ‘It’s a nugget we couldn’t bring ourselves to sell. It is insignificant in size, but see, look closely at its shape.’
Ben slipped the ring on his little finger and he and Kate studied it carefully. ‘Why, it’s a bud,’ said Ben.
‘A rosebud! It’s a rosebud. How unusual,’ cried Kate.
‘I shall treasure this always. Thank you, Hock Lee.’
Hock Lee reached and placed his hand on top of their heads as if in blessing. They sat in silence for a moment, all three thinking of Catherine and Robert Maclntyre and feeling their love and warm wishes flow over them.
Hock Lee rose stiffly to his feet. ‘I am getting old, crouching on floors is hard on the knees. Now . . . come, it is time to return to your guests.’
That night Gladys Butterworth sat up in her bed writing in her diary, recording how Ben and Kate had planted their special rose close to the sundial in the sunken garden — ‘close to you, dear Harold’ — and drew a sketch of the pearl necklace and Ben’s rose nugget ring.
. . . it was a joyous day all round, marred only by you not sharing it, Harold dearest; but we all felt you were with us in spirit and I thought of you when we drank a toast to absent friends. Ben and Kate are so happy and so in love. I pray that all will go well in their life together . . .
Three weeks later Ben and Kate returned from their honeymoon, entranced with all they’d seen. Kate thought Bangalow a delightful town and they’d met friends of Harold and Gladys, seen Wally Simpson’s little cottage which Kate said was overgrown but charming, and visited Sid and Nettie’s old home where Ben had been born.
They had travelled as far north as Murwillumbah visiting remote scenic highlights off the beaten track. They had picnics beside waterfalls and rivers, spent lazy days on empty beaches, and walked for miles in beautiful forests.
The most enchanting experience of all was the time they spent exploring a rainforest as yet untouched by the timber millers of the region. There were already few such patches of rainforest left along the coast, most having been cleared by farmers for the rich soil they had created over the centuries.
Ben and Kate reached the rainforest in the Royal Mail rural delivery car that they caught early one morning down the street from their guesthouse in Lismore. They had been warned that it was a long trip with dozens of stops at roadside mail boxes, so they brought along a picnic basket and some bottles of cordial. The driver, Ned Clarkson, was a jovial, rotund man who had been an ambulance driver with the troops in France during the war. The big car was shared with three women passengers, all on their way home to farms along the way.
‘Yer lucky it’s a quiet day,’ explained Ned when they asked if they could travel with him. ‘Usually I’ve got a car full of folk going out to the farms or coming into town. There ain’t a better road in the district for gettin’ the feeling of being out in the sticks. Be a right experience for you city folk.’
At the end of the road, adjoining a new dairy farm being developed by a soldier settler friend of Ned’s, was a valley of virgin rainforest. To Kate and Ben it was a magic place of incredible tranquillity and beauty. Ned let them roam around for a couple of hours while he yarned with his mate on the farm. ‘Don’t have to keep a timetable out here,’ he explained.
On the way back Kate enthused about the forest and the valley. ‘Do you think it will survive for much longer?’
‘Might,’ said Ned, ‘depends on a lotta things.’
‘I hope it does survive so people in the future can enjoy it like we did today. It really is the most peaceful place I’ve been to for such a long time. What’s it called?’
‘Dunno. Don’t think it’s got a name.’ For a while Ned attended to driving along an ill-made road with precipitous drops into the valley. Then suddenly he had an idea. ‘Hey, why don’t you give it a name, missus?’
‘What a lovely idea,’ said Kate. ‘Ben, what will we call it?’
He thought for a little while then said softly, ‘Peace . . . Peace Valley.’
‘Oh Ben, that’s perfect. Don’t you th
ink so, Mr Clarkson?’
‘Peace goes down real well with me. Spent years at war thinkin’ about it. Yeah, Peace sounds real great.’
Ben and Kate returned from their honeymoon and settled into the gatehouse cottage at Zanana. Kate turned the old stone house into a charming and cosy home. The sandstone was smothered in sweetly scented jasmine and clematis; atop the squat chimney sat a dove weather vane. The upstairs windows were crisscrossed with leadlight and geraniums flowered in window boxes. It was shaded by a giant oak tree and had the solid look of an English garden cottage.
Seeing how settled and happy they were, Hock Lee announced he was taking a special trip. Now there were only him and his two sisters, he planned to take them back to China, to Shanghai, home of their ancestors. The sisters, who had spent a lifetime severed from their heritage and family ties, wished to spend their final years close to their roots.
‘It’s a significant homecoming for them as is our custom,’ he explained to Kate, sitting by the open fire in the comfort of her sitting room.
‘But you will return here, Hock Lee? couldn’t bear the thought of you living so far away from us.’
He smiled gently, looking with great fondness at the only child of his best friend. He hoped Robert and Catherine were resting in peace and knew how fortuitously things had turned out. ‘Of course I shall. This is my home. When my parents came from China, they clung to the old ways, and I always respected that. However, I am Australian bred and have spent all my life here. I have been a man straddling two cultures, never able to slip unobtrusively into the second skin of my chosen nationality. But I must count my blessings.’ He paused and reached out in an affectionate gesture and touched her cheek. ‘And one of those blessings is you, dear Kate.’
She reached up and pressed his hand to her cheek, her eyes fluttering closed, hiding the glint of tears. In a soft voice she said, ‘Hock Lee, in case I haven’t told you enough, I love you’.
The Dashfords returned from their overseas trip shortly after Hock Lee and his sisters set sail for Shanghai. Kate waited for a month to let them resettle in Sydney then made an appointment with them and the accountants for the estate.