I was too bewildered to take it in. I could only cling to him and assure myself that he was still there, that he was my father and he would love me for ever. But the wonderful journey home would not take place. He would go away in a very short time, and it would be a long time before I saw him again. This new country was to be my home.
It was too sudden and too bewildering to take in all at once. I was in a way like one of those people who had been taken from England and sent to a new land uncertain, disbelieving that this could really be happening to me. But I was not like those people. They had had no one, and I had Toby to love me, even if he had to leave me. And there was Elsie at hand, and I was already fond of her.
My thoughts went back to that early morning when I had suddenly heard the mocking laughter of the kookaburras. I had thought that the laughter sounded like a warning. Perhaps it had been in a way.
Life had seemed too good, and perhaps life is not like that.
Then I thought: But Toby is my father. Nothing can change that. I may not see him for a long time, but he will come back. He is truly my father and he will always be there.
The Sundowner
Gertie and I had said goodbye to all our old school friends to the school itself, and the way of life which had come to an end after more than six years. The long end of term holiday was before us only it was more than the end of term for us. I should probably spend some time at the Formans’ property in Yomaloo, and Gertie would come to stay with me for a time at Elsie’s. It was a pattern we had followed over the last years.
In March of next year I should be eighteen years old, and it seemed a long time since Toby had told me I should not be returning to England.
It had all happened so quickly then. Long-term arrangements had been brushed aside and in a few days a new way of life had been established. I had been so bewildered in the beginning that I seemed to have been caught up in a whirlwind, and suddenly deposited in a new home, in a new country. But I never forgot how lucky I was to have two people such as Toby and Elsie caring for me.
When Toby had taken me away from England on that fantastic trip, I had escaped into a wonderland and thought that I had found happiness for ever after. Now, from the wisdom of my maturer years, I could look back on the child I had been then and smile. Happiness is not like that. It cannot be there for ever. It has to be waited for and that is why it is so precious when it comes.
How grateful I should be to Elsie! She was, I supposed, my stepmother.
She was more like an older and so much wiser sister. She told me, in a rare sentimental moment, that she had always wanted a daughter. I had filled that need.
It had been February of that year, just before I was eleven years old, when Toby had sailed off in the Lady of the Seas, leaving me alone with Elsie, whom I had known for about one week.
I shall always remember going on board and saying farewell, and that lost, empty feeling because I was not going to see him for a long time. But Elsie understood my grief and helped me to bear it. Toby had tried to be merry and succeeded to a certain extent. He kept assuring me it would not be so long before he would be back, and then we would make some exciting plans.
Afterwards, we had stood on the dock and watched the ship sail. Toby could not be visible because he had to be on the bridge, and so we watched her glide away, and I was comforted to see that Elsie was crying too. She had put her arm round me and said: “We’ll get along all right, love, and next time we’ll be standing here watching the ship sail in, bringing him with her.”
Then we went back to the house and drank cocoa and talked of him.
Elsie had been wonderful in the weeks that followed. I know now that she turned all her attention to me. She understood absolutely how I was feeling, and determined to assure me that I was safe with her.
Toby may have momentarily disappeared, but she had stepped into his place.
We were constantly together. Elsie had several friends in Sydney and we visited them, and they came to us quite often. Mabel, who did the cooking and ran the household, became a good friend of mine, so did all the others in and around the house. I would go to the kitchen and watch Mabel kneading dough, stirring puddings while she told me about her childhood in a little township west of Sydney on the way to Melbourne. There were seven children in the family, and she was the eldest. She wanted to get out and about a bit, she said, so she came to the city. She took one or two jobs. She was a dab hand at cooking and finally ended up with Elsie.
“One of the best,” and that was good enough for her. She’d been here ever since.
There was Adelaide, who was several years older than Mabel, and Jane, and they did the housework between them. There was no standing on ceremony, no one more important than another really, and they all seemed to be happy.
Then there were Jem and Mary, living over the stables with their son Hal: they did odd jobs about the house when necessary, and the garden as well. And Agio lived there too. He always had a grin for me when he saw me. It was a happy household.
I was constantly reminded of Commonwood House by the very difference of this place. How strange it would be there now! The doctor very ill and the children with Aunt Florence. What of Miss Carson? I expected she had gone to Aunt Florence’s house to be with the children. But perhaps the doctor had recovered and they had all gone back to Commonwood House.
I tried to talk to Elsie about them, but she did not seem to be interested. That surprised me, because she was usually eager to know about everyone. But I did notice that, when I spoke of anything to do with Commonwood House, she took the first opportunity to change the subject.
People called at the house all the time. Some of them gave no warning of their coming and would join us at meals if they were about to be served. Some came from a long way off and stayed for a night or two.
There was one special friend. His name was Joe Lester. He was a big man, rather quiet and serious. He was very friendly to me and told me of the early days when Australia had become a penal settlement, much as Toby had done.
Joe had property some miles out of Sydney. He had a nephew living with him who helped run the property. Elsie and I used to visit them now and then.
About two weeks after Toby had left me with her, Elsie broached the subject of schools.
“Everyone has to go to school,” she said.
“And that includes you, love. We don’t have the schools here that you do in England. But there is one I’ve heard of which seems pretty good. It’s some miles off, between Sydney and Melbourne, and I was wondering”
“I was going to school with Estella when she went, I believe, but then she went to Aunt Florence.”
Elsie said quickly: “Well, yes, but you’ll make friends here. People are very friendly. I tell you what we’ll do. We’ll go and see it and if we think it’s all right, you might go. Toby thinks you should go on just the same, as though you were at home. Everything here is done like at home. You’ll be eating a hot Christmas dinner in midsummer.
You wouldn’t have to go to school until September, because that’s when the school year starts at home and so it has to start then here.
There’s no desperate haste about it really. “
I was very excited when a letter came from Gertie. The Formans had found a property in Yomaloo. It was some ten or twelve miles north of Sydney.
I wrote at once. They were astounded to hear that I was still in Sydney. They had not expected to hear from me for some time because they had thought the letter would have to be forwarded on to England.
The outcome was that, when Gertie and her mother came into Sydney, they called to see us.
I explained that circumstances had changed and I was staying in Sydney. Gertie was delighted and her mother said that we must come to stay with them when they were settled in. We laughed a great deal talking about the voyage out. I met Jimmy again he had become James who was still a little shamefaced about the part he had played in the Suez adventure.
It was
a very happy reunion.
There was talk of my going to school and, as the Formans wanted Gertie to go too, it was decided that we should go together.
Then came the day when Toby returned to Sydney. I shall never forget waiting on the dock for the ship to come in, and that moment when he came down the gangway and embraced me, holding me as though he would never let me go.
Later he told me that Dr. Marline had died and he was very sad about it. I guessed it upset him to talk of it, so I did not ask all the questions I wanted to.
He did tell me that Adeline and Estella were still with Aunt Florence and would stay with her. He did not know what had happened to Miss Carson.
It would be best for me to stay in Australia, he said, for there he could be sure of seeing me more often than if I were anywhere else; and Elsie and I had become such good friends.
Everything sounded better when Toby spoke of it. What a piece of luck that the Formans were not too far away! Genie and I had been such good friends during the voyage out. Everything was turning out well.
I did go for a short voyage with him to New Guinea from Sydney and then back again. It lasted only three weeks, but there was hope of another; and during those years I only went once more with him, because it had to fit in with my school holidays.
School absorbed me and so the years passed.
And now we were grown up. We felt very mature and excited about that.
Schooldays were over. Gertie and I were adults.
That homecoming was different from all the others. There was a certain amount of ceremony about it. The coach brought us back with several other girls who lived in the Sydney area, and Gertie was dropped at Yomaloo. There were the usual assurances between us that we should be meeting soon. I should be going to stay at the Forman property as I always had done, and she would be coming to Sydney.
Elsie was waiting for my arrival.
“My word!” she cried, looking sentimental.
“You’re quite the young lady now.”
And there, in the porch, were Mabel, Adelaide and Jane, with Agio standing by.
I was taken into the house and Mabel announced that there was schnapper for lunch, which was my special favourite, and she didn’t want it getting cold while a lot of chatter went on. There was time enough for that afterwards.
During the meal, as I had always done, I told them what had been happening during the last term at school, and they recounted how life had gone on there.
Later, when I talked to Elsie alone, she said: “I thought I’d be giving a party … say at Christmas … for you and perhaps Gertie. We’d turn the sitting-room into a sort of ballroom. It would be quite big with the chairs and all the clutter taken out. I’d get some fiddlers in. It would be a sort of coming out party for you and Gertie … rather like that nonsense they do at home though without all that silly business of wearing feathers and curtseying to the Queen. We’d want some young men around. Joe’s not so young, but there’s his nephew and the McGill boys are all right. Then there are the Barnums and the Culvers … and, of course James Forman. I reckon I could pull in quite a number.”
I was silent for a moment, and she went on: “Well, you’re getting on, you know. It’s time you saw a bit of life. You want to “come out” , as they say. That’s what you’d be doing if you were at home. “
My thoughts went fleetingly to Estella and Adeline. Estella would be nineteen now, Adeline much older. Henry would be twenty-one. What were they doing now? It was only occasionally that I thought of them now.
How strange it was that people who had once been so much a part of one’s life could become like shadowy figures in a dream.
Elsie was saying: “I reckon you’ll want a rather special dress.
Something in red or blue or that mauve shade you like so much . something bright. We’ll give ourselves plenty of time . choose the material and get old Sally Cadell to make it. She’s always looking for work. I suppose in a week or so you’ll be wanting to go over to the Formans. When you come back we’ll start setting the party in motion.
It’ll take a bit of planning. “
She paused and lowered her eyes; then, after a few seconds, she raised them and smiled at me.
“I kept the best bit of news till now, because I thought that, if you heard it, you wouldn’t give your mind to anything else. To be’s due in December. Christmas Eve, in fact.”
I stared at her and we were in each other’s arms.
“Wouldn’t you call that good news, eh? It’s going to be a special Christmas for us, I can tell you.”
“It’s wonderful!” I cried.
“Quite wonderful.”
We were speechless after that, eyes shining, contemplating what lay in store for us. How good Elsie was to me! Another fleeting memory of Commonwood came. How different it was here where Elsie and Toby did everything to make life good for me. I was overcome with emotion.
I would be free now. If it were possible to take a trip with him, there would be no school to prevent it. This was perfect bliss.
We could talk of little else after that, but the good for tune which would bring Toby to Sydney at such a time.
But any time, of course, would be wonderful. We chattered excitedly.
The following day I went to the stables and made sure my particular mount. Starlight, was well. He showed his appreciation of my return.
Hal said he had missed me, but he knew I had to go away to school and didn’t hold it against me that I’d deserted him all that time.
Starlight confirmed this by nuzzling against me.
“He’s telling you how pleased he is you’re back,” went on Hal.
“I reckon he knows schooldays are over and you’re back for good now. “
Elsie and I sat in our favourite spot in the garden and we talked over trifles, although our minds were perpetually on Toby’s return. I told her how Sarah Minster had only just beaten me at the horse-jumping competition, how I’d come top in English and just barely scraped through in maths. She told me how one of the horses had gone lame when she was eight miles from home, and how she’d spent the night at the Jennings property.
Then she said suddenly: “I reckon you’ll settle here, Carmel. You’ll be one of us. Do you ever think of going home?”
Again there came those flashes of memory. Dr. Marline in the schoolroom, Adeline crying in her mother’s bedroom, Miss Carson coming out of the room and fainting.
I said: “Gertie talks of it often. She has an Aunt Beatrice in London.
She says she’s going home one day. “
“It’s always home to some of them,” said Elsie.
“They can’t seem to forget it. Others don’t want to see the place again.”
“I expect it depends on what happened to you there.”
She looked a little perplexed.
“You’ve been happy here, haven’t you?”
“Wonderfully happy. You’re here … and Toby, sometimes.”
She nodded.
“Perhaps you’ll marry and settle here.”
“Marry? Marry whom?”
“That’s in the lap of the gods, as they say. There are one or two young men round about. Some very nice ones. Joe’s nephew, William.
He’s a bit bashful, but since he’s been out here with Joe, he’s coming out of his shell a bit. Joe says he’s a great help on the property, and he’ll have the money to set up a place of his own when he’s learned a bit more. Well, he’s here on the spot. We shall see a lot of him. He’ll be coming over with Joe. “
“But you don’t marry people just because they are ” on the spot”!”
“I reckon that comes into it. How are you going to meet them if they’re not? And I think James Forman likes you.”
“James Forman! You’re forgetting all that trouble in Suez when he left us there. I don’t think he’s ever got over that.”
“He was only a boy. You’re not going to hold that against him.”
“No. But I
think he holds it against himself. He’s always a bit shamefaced with me.”
She smiled.
“Poor lad. He’d like you to see him as a sort of hero … dashing up and getting you to the ship and climbing by that rope-ladder.”
“But that was Dr. Emmerson.”
“He’s a nice boy, James. I like him and what’s more, I think he likes you.”
After that, I began to think more often of James Forman.
We were all stretched out on the grass, our horses tethered nearby. We had come to the stream known as Wanda’s Creek which was on the edge of the Yomaloo property. We had been riding out to the Jensens who were the Formans’ nearest neighbours.
It was an unwritten law that neighbours came to the aid of each other when it was needed; and Jack Jensen had hurt his leg while he was fixing some fencing and, as soon as the news had reached Yomaloo, James had immediately set out to see if any help was needed.
Gertie and I accompanied him in case we could help in the house, as there was only one daughter, Mildred, her mother and no servant.
James had fixed the fence and we were on our way back, having had a meal with the Jensens. We had ridden some way but there were still a few miles to go, and we decided to rest and take a little refreshment.
So there we were. James had taken from his saddle-bag a bottle of Mrs. Forman’s homemade wine and was pouring it into beakers and handing them round. He always carried the wine with him, for often during his journeys he felt in need of refreshment and places for finding it were few and far between. It was on occasions like this that one realized the vastness of this sparsely populated land.
It was pleasant to rest in the warm October sunshine which would be very hot in a few weeks’ time. We lay there, talking desultorily.
Gertie was saying she was wondering what she would do, now that she had left school.
“There’s plenty for you to do at home,” James pointed out.
“Ma needs you around.”
“If I can get some money together, I’d like to pay a visit to Aunt Beatrice.”
“Go home!” cried James.
The Black Opal Page 13