Eumeralla - Secrets, Tragedy and Love

by Joanna Stephen-Ward

  I’ll ask her about Johnny. Keith might be wrong. Laurence and Johnny were inseparable and Laurence might have woven a fantasy about him. I’m constantly fantasizing that my real mother was a secret agent in the war, so I’ll understand.

  Fiona had been keeping a journal since she was eight, and had made her first entry the day her parents told her she was adopted. That evening, instead of doing her homework, she wrote about her distress in a new exercise book that had originally been destined for arithmetic. She ended with the sentence:

  My real daddy was Mummy’s brother. His name was Johnny. He died. But who is my real Mummy?

  Throughout her childhood Fiona had poured out her yearning for brothers and sisters and her abhorrence of Virginia’s possessiveness into her diary.

  Today Mummy told me what to put in my essay about the school holidays. She said I can write – I had a lovely holiday. But the day I enjoyed most was when I went to the Botanical Gardens with my mother. I want to write about the week we spent at Kingower.

  She kept it hidden, knowing that if Virginia found it she would read it and accuse her of ingratitude. In her teens, just as she was struggling to become independent, the luxurious house in Vaucluse became a prison. Virginia grew more possessive. Fiona was forbidden to wear the mini-skirt and Virginia ranted against the Beatles, calling them uncouth savages. Boyfriends were inevitably too common, too dull or supported the Labor Party. When she was eighteen Fiona had rented a flat with a friend. On her first night in her new home she wrote,

  Bondi

  July 1964

  I am free. There is no mother hovering around, prying and fussing. She cried when I left and she’s certain that I’ll let some man have his wicked way with me and get pregnant. Her opinion of me is insulting. Although I have swapped a large bedroom with antiques and views over SydneyHarbour for a small room with grotty furniture, I am happy. I can play my Beatles records without her complaining. I’ll miss walking down to RoseBay in the morning and catching the ferry to work. Instead I’ll have to travel in a crowded bus.

  She was irritated when Virginia phoned every day, begged her to come home and expected her to spend every weekend in Vaucluse. When her friend got married, Fiona decided to travel. Before she went to England for two years, she took all her diaries to Ruth, Alex’s sister who lived in Melbourne.

  When she had returned to Australia four months ago with a pile of journals and photographs cataloguing her travel experiences, the thought of living in Sydney within easy reach of Virginia had been unbearable. She moved to Melbourne. Alex, happy that Fiona was back in Australia and hoping she would finally settle somewhere, bought her a two-bedroom unit in Hawthorn, near Ruth’s Victorian terraced house.

  Virginia rang twice a week, but the five hundred miles that separated Sydney and Melbourne made the contact tolerable. Fiona no longer had to invent excuses for not visiting, and her involvement with the tennis club prevented her from making regular weekend trips to Sydney.

  ***

  Virginia enjoyed her fifty-fifth birthday. Fiona and Alex took her to Doyle’s seafood restaurant, for dinner. Located on the beach at WatsonsBay, it had views over the harbour. They arrived in the early evening so they could watch the sunset and the moon rising over the water. Fiona looked happier than they had ever seen her. Virginia wondered if she had a new boyfriend, but experience had taught her not to ask.

  “We’ve got some news,” said Alex. “Catriona’s getting married in September.”

  Fiona picked up the menu. “I hope he’s horse mad.”

  Virginia saw her fleetingly envious expression.

  Alex nodded. “They met at one of the trekking holidays at Kingower. He’s a teacher at WesleyCollege.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Stefan Jovanovics.”

  “Is he Polish?”

  Alex shook his head. “He was born here. His father’s Hungarian, but his mother’s family are English.”

  “I don’t suppose I’ll be invited to the wedding,” said Fiona.

  “You will be,” said Alex. “But if you’re not, Virginia and I won’t be going either.”

  “Dad, I don’t want you to keep quarrelling with your only brother because of me.”

  “I won’t if you get invited to the wedding.”

  Virginia made herself stay silent.

  The next day Alex went to Randwick to look at a house that was coming up for auction. Virginia was delighted when Fiona suggested they go into Sydney to do some shopping. It had been over ten years since they had gone shopping together. Virginia remembered the laborious expeditions with Fiona moaning that she would rather play tennis or go to the beach with her friends.

  After Alex left, Fiona knocked on her parents’ bedroom door. “Mum, can I ask you something?”

  Hearing the caution in Fiona’s voice, Virginia tensed. “What about?”

  “Jonathan. I didn’t ask while Dad was around, because I didn’t want to upset him.”

  “But you don’t mind upsetting me?” She saw the familiar guarded expression on Fiona’s face. “Darling, that was silly of me. What do you want to know?”

  Fiona smiled tightly. “It doesn’t matter.”

  ‘We’re being formal with each other again,’ Virginia thought. “Yes, it does. It matters to you and you were right to wait till your father had gone. What do you want to know?”

  “How did he die?”

  Virginia had never been able to talk about it. Knowing that Fiona was embarrassed by displays of emotion, she fought for control, but her throat tightened so much she could hardly speak.

  “Sorry, Mum. It’s just that I thought he was a coward, but – ”

  “A coward?” Virginia shook her head violently.

  “Keith said he died trying to save someone from a burning house. Is that true?”

  Virginia tried to breathe evenly. “Yes.” She went over to a camphor wood chest under the window, that had belonged to Alex’s grandmother. It was so old its scent had faded. In the middle of the chest, under the photograph albums, she found an envelope. With trembling hands she took out a newspaper cutting and handed it to Fiona, who started to read it.

  She looked at Virginia in consternation. “You were there?”

  “Yes. Our father had cut him out of his will – ”

  “I thought he cut them both out.”

  “He did eventually, but he cut Johnny out first.”

  “Why?”

  Virginia, unable to tell her the real reason, thought quickly. “He had a fight with Margot.”

  “I should have guessed.”

  “Laurence told me it didn’t matter, because he intended to ignore the will and make Johnny a joint owner. He had it all worked out. I went to Brisbane to see Johnny and tell him. As soon as I turned into the street I saw ...” Virginia’s voice faltered as she remembered the clouds of black smoke. “I couldn’t smell anything, but the wind was blowing the other way. It was the house two doors away from where Johnny was living. I was relieved that it wasn’t his house.

  “People were yelling that the fire brigade was coming, but a woman and her children were trapped inside and a man had gone in to rescue them. I knew it was Johnny – it was the sort of thing he’d do. Then I saw him – he came out of the house carrying a little boy. He thrust the child into my arms. Johnny was dressed in white — he’d been going off to play cricket when the fire started. His jumper and face were all sooty and his hand had an awful burn on it. Burnt flesh, I could smell his burnt flesh. The child was screaming ‘Mummy, Mummy.’ I realized Johnny was going back to get the others. I dropped the boy and ran after him. I grabbed him, but he shook me off. He went in and it took two women and one man to hold me back to stop me from following him. The firemen arrived, but it was too late.”

  Virginia relived the terrifying moment when part of the roof collapsed. She could almost smell the smoke and hear the crackle of flames and feel the blistering heat. She saw the thousands of sparks explode into the air
and blow away in the wind. Until the moment they had found Jonathan’s body she had hoped that he had got away. She had considered all the possibilities. He had escaped out of the back door just before the roof fell in. He had been hit on the head and got amnesia and wandered off somewhere – perhaps he had even gone to his cricket match.

  “Mum.” Fiona sounded alarmed.

  Virginia pulled herself back to the present. Fiona’s arm was outstretched to touch. Never demonstrative, she looked as if she was about to stroke a strange animal.

  “Why did you think Johnny was a coward?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m just so glad Keith was right. That sounds awful, but ... well ... for years I’ve thought that he was a coward, and I was too because I’m afraid of horses. I feel differently about myself now. It was bad enough knowing about my real mother.”

  Remorse flooded Virginia’s conscience. “I’ve done lots of things that have been dishonourable, Fiona. I wish I could undo them.”

  “So have I, so has everyone. But you tried to stop him.”

  In this mood of Fiona’s kindness, Virginia wanted to tell her the truth, but hesitated, terrified of the denunciation that would surely follow. Now was the time to confess. To say, ‘I’ve got something to tell you. Years ago I did a terrible thing – I lied to you. It’s been on my conscience ever since.’ She bit her lip. ‘Say it,’ she told herself. ‘Say it now – get it over with.’ She exhaled.

  Fiona went to the door. “Come on, Mum, let’s go shopping.”

  And the right moment was gone.

  That night, during dinner, Fiona told Virginia and Alex she was moving to Brisbane.

  Virginia felt as if she’d been punched. “You can’t!” She managed to put her wine glass down without dropping it. She saw that Fiona was scowling.

  “Why can’t I?”

  “Don’t be cranky, Pet,” said Alex. “Your mother means ... what about a job?”

  “Ansett are transferring me. I’m going in August.”

  “Have you told them you don’t want to go?” asked Virginia indignantly.

  “I do want to go, I asked for the transfer.”

  Virginia felt Alex kick her leg under the table.

  “I thought you were happy in Melbourne,” he said.

  “You’ve only been there for five months,” said Virginia. “All this moving around seems a bit unstable.”

  “I am unstable, Mum.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” Virginia, trying to hide her apprehension, cut a piece of steak and put it in her mouth.

  “No, Mum. I’m not normal. I’ve never been in love.”

  “You’ve never met the right man,” said Alex.

  Fiona shook her head. “Catriona and Kim were falling in and out of love all the time when they were younger. I’ve never felt like that with any of my boyfriends.”

  Alex sipped his wine. “Everyone is different.”

  “But, I’ve never felt I’ve belonged anywhere. I feel as if I’m searching for something and can’t find it ... I don’t even know what it is. Somewhere in my mind I’ve got this inkling that I’ve lost something or someone.”

  Virginia heard the desperation in her voice. Worried that her guilt was obvious, she looked at her plate.

  Fiona sighed. “Sane people don’t feel like this. Should I see a psychiatrist?”

  “No, of course not,” said Alex. “You’re entirely normal.”

  “Then why do I feel like this?”

  He smiled. “Maybe lots of people feel strange things and they don’t talk about it.”

  Virginia wished she could behave as calmly as Alex. She was still chewing her steak and hoped she could swallow it without gagging. ‘Since she was eight, I’ve lived with the worry that she’d find out the truth,’ she thought. ‘Every time she went to Queensland it’s been like playing Russian Roulette. When she left Queensland the game was over and I’d won – till next time. Then there had only been one bullet in the chamber. With Fiona living in Brisbane life will be a permanent game of Russian Roulette, but with five bullets in the chamber.’

  “We have to tell her,” said Alex as soon as they arrived home from driving Fiona to the airport.

  Virginia paced round the bedroom. “She’ll hate us – well she’ll hate me.”

  “She won’t hate either of us if we manage it properly.”

  She sat at the dressing table and put her head in her hands. “You’re such an optimist.”

  “We’ve got till August – it’s almost April so that gives us four months to plan.”

  “Oh, I can’t have this hanging over my head that long.”

  “We’re going on holiday soon – do you want to tell her before we leave or wait till we get back?”

  “When we get back. We’ll invite her here for the weekend.”

  “No. We’ll go to Melbourne,” said Alex. “If she flies into a fury she’ll walk out of here. If we’re in her unit she can tell us to leave, but she can’t throw us out. We won’t go till we’ve explained how things happened.”

  Melbourne

  March 1972

  Keith was right! Now I can face Catriona and Kim as equals. Catriona announced her engagement to Stefan Jovanovics yesterday. Next weekend I’m going to Kingower and I’ll make an announcement in the middle of their Sunday lunch. I hope Stefan’s there so he’ll see what a despicable family he’s marrying into.

  ***

  “Apart from natural disasters, people shape historical events,” Stefan told his fourth form history students. “To comprehend history you have to understand the people who made it. Not just what they did, but why they did it. Imagine the world today if Oliver Cromwell, Charles Dickens, Lenin or Hitler had never been born.” He wrote, IMAGINE IF, on the blackboard. “I want you to rewrite history. Any century, any country, any event, any person. For example, imagine if Alexander Fleming had employed a conscientious cleaning lady.”

  The boys laughed.

  “Depending on who or what you choose, you might have to do research so I’m giving you eight weeks. I want you to be creative and show an appreciation of the delicate balance between how it is, and how it might have been.”

  The bell clanged, ending his last lesson for the week.

  In his flat in Albert Park, Stefan showered and packed casual clothes, jodhpurs and riding boots, pleased to be free of the formality of a suit for two days. Before heading for Kingower he drove to Prahran, where he bought bottles of wine and chocolates for dinner and bunches of flowers for Catriona and her mother.

  As well as breeding horses, Kingower was a riding school that ran horse-trekking weekends and holidays. Located in lush countryside at the foot of the GreatDividingRanges in Victoria, it had belonged to the Lancaster family since 1853. Their ancestor had been a groom on an estate in England. He had emigrated when he heard about the gold discoveries in Australia. Within a month of his arrival in Ballarat he had found a nugget the size of an orange at Kingower Gold Field. He bought twenty horses and one thousand acres of land.

  Catriona and her sister Kim were veterinary surgeons who worked at a practice in Whittlesea, the nearest town. They lived in cottages on Kingower, two hundred yards from the homestead. Before the war, when the staff had lived on the property, their cottages had been occupied by the gardener and the housekeeper. Originally they had been painted white with red corrugated iron roofs. Catriona’s was still white but she had chosen navy for the door, roof and woodwork. Kim’s colour scheme was cream and chestnut brown. Forest lay behind the cottages and the gardener had planted their front gardens with lilac trees. Lavender hedges lined the paths leading to the front doors. Two cottages, which had once housed the chauffeur and cook, had been converted into one large house for Margot, who was Kim’s and Catriona’s widowed aunt.

  On Friday night when Stefan arrived at Kingower he found the cottages and homestead deserted. Puzzled, he went to Margot’s house and knocked on the door. There was no reply. On his way back to the homestead he saw her
walking up the step to the verandah.

  “Mrs Clarkson,” he called, running up to her. “Where is everyone?”

  “Oh, Stefan, one of the mares has given birth, but we can’t find the foal. Someone left the paddock gate open. The gardener saw her with the foal and told me, but when we got back the foal had disappeared.”

  “Give me a torch and I’ll help.”

  She shook her head. “We’ve all been searching for two hours. Catriona and Kim are in the stables the mare’s got a retained placenta.”

  It amused him that, although Catriona was called Tree by the rest of the family, Margot disliked the nickname and refused to use it.

  Stefan ran over to the stables and arrived just as Catriona pulled out the placenta. He screwed up his face. “Ugh.”

  She held out her arm. “Kiss my hand.”

  “Yuck.” He stepped back. “Get away.”

  “That’s a romantic way to greet your fiancée,” Catriona quipped.

  He grinned. “I’ll be romantic when you’ve washed. He looked at Kim, but her face was blank. He realized she hadn’t moved since he’d come in. Her straight black hair shone in the light from the bare bulb. The pupils of her toffee-brown eyes were large and her face was paler than usual.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “The creek – the foal’s in the creek,” said Kim.

  Catriona rubbed soap on her arms. “It’s too far away.”

  “Tree, she’s in the creek.”

  “Did you look there?” asked Stefan.

  “No,” said Catriona as she pulled a nail brush through a cake of soap.

  “Oliver said the foal is in the creek,” said Kim slowly.