Eumeralla - Secrets, Tragedy and Love

by Joanna Stephen-Ward

  She stood up. “I’m leaving while I’ve got some willpower left.”

  “I’ve been an idiot. Give me time to chuck a few things in my case and I’ll come back to Kingower with you.”

  “No,” she said, striding to the door. “You’re in a state of arousal and men will do anything like that.”

  He tried to persuade her to at least stay and have coffee, but she was adamant. It was the first time she had ever been calculating, but she had wanted to leave him hungry. As she drove back to Kingower, she didn’t know whether to congratulate or despise herself.

  During the week, Stefan rang her every day. The phones in the two cottages were connected and she asked Kim to answer all calls and say she was out if it was Stefan.

  “He sounds perturbed,” Kim reported. “Serve him right if he thinks you’ve found another man. But, Tree ... ”

  “What?”

  “You don’t have to resort to tricks. You’re not being you.”

  “Being myself didn’t work once he’d met Fiona.”

  “Don’t be cunning like her.”

  Catriona smiled sourly. “She’s not cunning. She doesn’t have to be. Life’s easy for beautiful women.”

  On Friday night Stefan arrived at her cottage with a bunch of flowers and a bottle of champagne. “Will you still marry me?”

  She had planned to tease him, but was too overcome with happiness. She kissed him and said, “Yes.”

  Kim had felt stifled all weekend because she couldn’t talk about the wedding. “Are you sure he’s what you want, Tree?” she asked when Stefan had gone back to Melbourne on Sunday night.

  “Yes.”

  “He put you through a hell of a lot,” she grumbled as she poured milk for their Ovaltine into a saucepan. “And why shouldn’t we talk about the wedding? Weddings are fun.”

  “Maybe more so for women than men,” said Catriona. “He was terrific this weekend, wasn’t he? It’s natural to have doubts.”

  “Have you had any?”

  “No.”

  “If having doubts is so natural you’d have them too.”

  “Look, Stefan’s life is going to change drastically. Not only will he have to adjust to a new job and a new area, he’s got to establish his reputation again. He’s giving up teaching at a school he loved.”

  “You didn’t force him – ”

  “No, he offered because he knows how much my family and riding mean to me. The only thing that’ll be different for me is a new house. Maybe I’d be wavering if I was moving to Melbourne.”

  “Am I allowed to buy you a wedding present, or would Stefan deem it too extravagant?”

  “Kim, stop it.”

  “Sorry. What about a dinner service? A posh one for parties, like Royal Doulton.”

  “That’d be great.” She hesitated. “Something white with a gold or silver rim, I think.”

  Catriona’s favourite china had a floral pattern, so Kim knew she was giving in to Stefan’s preference for simplicity. Concerned that she was being swamped by what he wanted, she made herself say, “Go to Melbourne, order it, and I’ll pay for it.”

  “That’s awfully generous. Thanks.”

  “I don’t care what Stefan thinks,” said Kim. “I love weddings and when I get married it’s going to be a grand occasion.”

  The next weekend Stefan and Catriona went to look at a weatherboard house in Whittlesea that had been built in the 1890’s. Empty, and cheaper than most houses they had seen, it was owned by a widow who had moved into her son’s granny flat. Stefan was impressed by the size of the rooms and the large front and back gardens. His parents struggled financially and he was determined that by the time he was forty he would have no mortgage. “With our combined salary and savings we’ll only need a small loan from the bank,” he said.

  “It’s ideal,” agreed Catriona. “Four bedrooms means we can have a study each as well as a guest room. And we can both walk to work.”

  He grimaced. “It needs redecorating – I can’t stand all this floral wallpaper.”

  “We’ll get the painter and decorator who does Kingower. He’s a friend of Dad’s and he’ll give us a good rate. Deciding on the colour scheme will be a bit of a problem. I don’t want to live in a place that looks like a cave and you hate yellow and blue ... my favourite colours.”

  He put his arm around her. “As long as you don’t want floral patterns we can compromise.”

  She looked doubtful. “Kim and I couldn’t. We shared a bedroom till we were ten ... it was pink and had been the same since we were babies. Our parents were going to have it done up for Christmas. I wanted blue and Kim wanted beige walls with brown bedspreads. We had such a fight about it that Mum said we’d have to have separate rooms.”

  He kissed her lips. “Name a colour.”

  She snorted with laughter. “Red.”

  “Red it is. Walls, doors and ceilings.”

  Stefan had tried to push thoughts of Fiona out of his mind. Mostly he was successful, but they rose at unexpected moments. On the way back from the estate agent that morning they went into the hardware store and got some colour charts.

  “Could you cope with blue for the lounge? And striped curtains and upholstery?” Catriona mused. “Regency stripe? Or navy and emerald to contrast with the walls?”

  The image of the blue in Fiona’s lounge and the navy and burgundy striped curtains and upholstery shot into his mind. He remembered the room and her fury in photographic detail. “No, not blue.”

  “What then? Please don’t say ochre or brown.” She looked at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Green. What about green?”

  Catriona wrinkled her nose. “It’s a difficult colour. Sage is dreary and apple’s ...”

  “We’ll find one we both like. Green would suit the house. What about pale green walls, white woodwork and dark green velvet curtains and upholstery?”

  “Velvet’s too opulent for a weatherboard house. Stripes would be more cosy.” She squeezed his hand. “We can have velvet when we buy a mansion.”

  His guilt was crushing. “I want you to be happy, Tree.”

  “We will be. You can indulge yourself in mud-hut colours in your study,” she said enthusiastically.

  ‘Thank God I didn’t see Fiona’s bedroom,’ he thought as they reached the car.

  “When do you want to go and look at furniture?”

  He knew he had to make an effort. Her parents were buying their bedroom furniture and Margot wanted to give them a dining table and eight chairs. “Tree, how about you and me taking your parents, Kim and Aunty Margot to the city one Saturday to look at furniture, then we can treat them to lunch afterwards.”

  “That’s a lovely idea.”

  “You’ve got a tremendous family. Not many married couples start off with a house that belongs to them and good furniture bought for them by relations. My parents have worked hard for years and will never have the things we’ll start off with.”

  Catriona’s expression was radiant. “We’re going to be so happy, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, Tree, we are.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Alex debated how to begin his letter to Fiona. ‘We’ might make Fiona think he was ignoring her wish to dissociate herself from Virginia. ‘I’ would respect her wish, but went against his instinct. ‘Virginia’s my wife and my loyalty is to her,’ he thought.

  We are pleased you’re continuing to enjoy your new life.

  I’ve bought four terraced houses in Fitzroy. From being a slum, it’s an up and coming area so I got in quickly and bought them cheaply. With the exception of one, all the old cast-iron balconies have been boarded up and glassed in, but they are still there and in good condition so they can be painted which will save a lot of money. So many old terraces have had their intricate cast-iron lace-work ripped out, and replacements are expensive. I’m going down to Melbourne next week to see the builders and hire the decorators and landscape gardeners. I’ll stay at your unit.

/>   We’ll see you at Tree’s wedding. David wants to know if you are ringing anyone.

  Virginia sends her love.

  ‘What a normal letter it sounds,’ he thought. ‘If I was truthful I’d write – We’re in purgatory. Virginia has been silent since I got back from Eumeralla. She blames me for failing to get you to forgive her. You Clarksons are too intense. She’s not as bad as Gabby ... she’s meticulous about the way she dresses and she pretends when we’re with other people, but when we’re alone it’s a different matter. I don’t know how much of this I can stand. I’ve lost my daughter and my wife.’

  Alex arrived in Melbourne early in the morning. He caught a taxi from TullamarineAirport to Fiona’s unit. He phoned Virginia to let her know he’d arrived safely. Dejected by her monosyllabic replies he rang Ruth and arranged to have dinner with her. After unpacking, he went to look at the houses in Fitzroy where work had begun the day before. The builders had pulled up the linoleum and ripped out the stained baths, sinks and toilets. The tiny backyards were full of rubble.

  Restoring dilapidated houses usually excited him, but now he felt weary. Being away from Virginia was a relief, but he worried about her and their relationship. His decision to marry her had been based more on passion than on reasoned thought. Sometimes he had longed for the peace another woman might have given him. When Virginia was at her most tumultuous he envied his brother whose wife was gentle and unselfish, but he found her dull. Annoyed by her inevitable response of, “I agree with David,” he had given up asking her opinion when controversial subjects were discussed.

  Compared to Virginia, many women Alex knew were dull. His life with her was unpredictable, stimulating and often dramatic. Her rages were verbally violent, but she never hit him or threw things. When she was upset she punished him with long spells of silence, occasionally they lasted as long as a week. But this time her misery was so acute he could not break through it.

  ‘I’m too old for this,’ he thought. ‘If Fiona had cut me off too we could have shared the pain. But Virginia feels that she’s on her own.’

  He remembered Margot’s warning before he and Virginia married in 1938. “You’ll never have any peace, Alex. She’s too tempestuous and never considers the consequences of her actions. She’ll leave chaos in her path, but deny she’s caused it and she’ll believe she was innocent – that’s what is so frightening. She’ll get what she wants at no thought about the cost to others. The Clarksons are like that.”

  “Is William?”

  “No. They must take after their mother. Why are you grinning? This is serious, Alex, it’s not a joke. You must take Virginia seriously.”

  “I am taking her seriously, I’m marrying her. You can’t get more serious than that.”

  “Look beyond her beauty and ask yourself what else she has that attracts you.”

  “Courage, intelligence and compassion.”

  Margot had looked sad. “I hope you’ll still have that lovely smile in a few years.”

  As soon as war was declared Virginia had volunteered for overseas nursing service when she could have stayed at home. After the war, it was an experience they shared and they talked about it knowing how fortunate they were to have survived.

  He remembered their first meeting in 1933 after Margot had married William Clarkson, Virginia’s father. Margot had met them in Brisbane. The train journey from Melbourne had taken two days and when they arrived Alex was cheerful, Francesca wheezy and Ruth excited.

  When the car had left the city Francesca’s breathing eased. “Margot, you’ve hardly told us anything about your step-children in your letters,” she had remonstrated.

  Alex grinned. “She’s been sighing over the photos of Laurence and Jonathan.”

  Ruth giggled. “Cheska’s in love, but she’s not sure who with.”

  “Oh, no. Don’t go getting romantic about them, Cheska.”

  “What’s wrong, Margot?” Alex asked.

  “Being a stepmother is awful. They resent me.”

  Alex was surprised. Margot’s students had wept when she left the school in Whittlesea and most of them had come to see her off on the train. As far as he knew no one had ever disliked her. “Perhaps they’re still missing their mother.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”

  Once they had reached the unmade country roads conversation was impossible. The car lurched and by the time they reached the road to Acacia, it had a flat tyre. After Alex had changed it, Margot couldn’t start the engine. Alex, Margot and Ruth pushed the car the last half mile to Acacia while Francesca steered. Sweaty and dirty, they left the car at the gate and trudged up the long track to the homestead.

  As they walked under a group of trees near the paddocks they heard a giggle. They looked up. In the middle of a giant eucalyptus tree, sitting on a limb, was a girl dressed in jodhpurs and a white shirt. Her silver-blonde hair hung in two untidy plaits.

  “Hello, you must be Virginia,” said Alex. “I’m your step-uncle and Francesca and Ruth are your step-aunts.”

  “I know,” she said disdainfully. She grabbed a higher branch and swung from it then hooked her legs over another branch and hung upside down.

  “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

  Virginia manoeuvred herself into a standing position. “I haven’t been looking forward to meeting you.”

  Margot sighed, but Alex laughed. Used to submissive, neatly dressed girls, her wildness intrigued him. Virginia looked at him in astonishment. Suddenly there was a cracking sound. The branch on which she was standing broke and crashed through the tree. As he caught Virginia, he felt the jagged end of the branch hit his forehead. With her in his arms he fell backwards and rolled over. They landed side by side on the grass.

  Margot knelt beside them. “Alex, are you hurt?”

  He scarcely heard her. He found himself looking into a pair of emerald-green eyes, framed by dark lashes and brows.

  “Your sister’s worried about you,” said Virginia. “She doesn’t care if I’m injured.”

  “Are you?” he asked softly.

  She looked scornful. “Laurence and Johnny taught me how to jump a long way and not hurt myself. But you’ve got blood pouring out of your head.”

  He chuckled.

  “What’s so funny? You might be dying.”

  “I don’t reckon either of us is dying, do you?”

  When they got to the homestead Margot took him into the kitchen and, pushing back his black hair, cleaned his lacerated forehead and applied ointment.

  Virginia watched from the doorway. “Only sissies put that stuff on.”

  “If your scratches get infected that’s up to you. Where are Jonathan and Laurence?”

  “Hiding from you.”

  Margot’s voice was icy. “Take Ruth and Francesca to their rooms, please.”

  Alex shook with laughter.

  “Stop it,” she said when Virginia had gone. “You’ll encourage her to be even more insolent than she is already.”

  “She’s honest.”

  Margot flicked his hair back into place. “Oh, Alex!” she said in exasperation.

  The next day Virginia had been more enthusiastic about their presence and took them riding over to Eumeralla to visit Eleanor. To Margot’s amazement she smiled during dinner instead of sitting silently with an expression of endurance on her face.

  Alex noticed that when Francesca played the piano Laurence looked mesmerized.

  Two years later Laurence and Francesca had married, and in 1938 Alex married Virginia. During the war they hardly saw each other. Alex served in the Middle East. Virginia was one of the last nurses to be evacuated from Singapore before the Japanese arrived.

  After the war Alex had joined a firm of architects in Sydney, but designing skyscrapers that would replace fine Victorian buildings repulsed him.

  “Sydney’s being ruined, and I’m part of it,” he had told Virginia. “Everywhere’s the same. Look at the friends I made
at university – they work for different firms, but they’re as disaffected as I am.”

  “Start your own firm,” she suggested.

  “There’s no demand for graceful buildings nowadays. Even the new houses are hideous boxes.”

  Virginia had looked thoughtful. “What about buying old houses, doing them up and selling them? That way you’d be using your architectural knowledge and you’d be happier.”

  Much of the success of his property development business was due to Virginia’s ideas. When he had finished restoring their first house he had been unable to sell it, although a lot of people had looked at it. After a month he was about to lower the price when she proposed furnishing it. “That will give it an atmosphere. The white walls make it look large and clean, but sterile.”

  Alex had disagreed. “People can use their imagination.”

  “A lot of people don’t have any imagination.”

  “It will cost too much.”

  “Let me try.”

  She had bought second-hand furniture, hung curtains, made up the beds, put pictures on the walls and bought vases and books. Two hours before people came to view it she put flowers in the vases, opened the windows and polished the furniture. To his astonishment the first person who came to see it bought it straight away.

  “We can’t go to that expense every time we do up a house,” Alex said later.

  “Don’t sell the furniture – keep it and put it in the next one.”

  “Where can we store it?”

  “Anywhere. We’ve got a spare room. It won’t be for long. When you do up your next house put this furniture in it. Judging by the profit you’ve made on this one, soon you can buy two houses at a time and when one is sold just move the furniture into the other one.”

  It was a simple concept that worked every time.

  Virginia’s taste was elegant and innovative, and was reflected in their house and the way she dressed. In public she was gracious and dignified, in private she was often the opposite. But she was enthralling and beautiful and he loved her.