Bilgarra Springs

by Rotondo, Louise

  Over the space of the next hour and a half, she and Fiona had done what needed to be done for the horses. One stall at a time, they had released the other six horses into the paddocks. There were three other mares, plus Biddy’s filly, Poppy, her colt, Hamlet and one Thoroughbred stallion. Two of the mares, Pippa and Josephine, had carried on like Lolly, frolicking and farting and racing around. The other mare, Telila, had merely wandered across, but without all the nastiness of Biddy. Apparently Telila was the really cruisy one. Poppy and Hamlet had been a little on the skittish side. The stallion, Levander Rogue, had snorted and pawed and carried on in the stall and once through the gates had pranced and preened, generally parading for all he was worth, showing off to the mares who were separated from him by one full, day paddock.

  Oddly, Fiona had maintained that the best way to deal with him was to ignore him, because he hated it. Apparently he was an attention seeker. If he didn’t have your attention he would make sure he got it, but he also liked to pretend that he was high maintenance, being difficult to handle. Aurora didn’t mind at all that he didn’t want to be handled — suited her just fine, though, she had to admit that he was beautiful: tall, muscled and such a dark brown that he was almost black.

  After letting them out, they had systematically gone through and moved the feeding troughs from the stalls to the paddocks and fed them all. Then they had turned their attention to cleaning out the stalls and changing straw, making sure all the automatic water systems weren’t blocked and that the water was actually full in each stall. It had turned out to be hard work. They had finished by 9:00 — ironically enough, about the time Aurora’s lecturing day normally started. Fiona had then shown her the two wash down stalls that were in a part of the stables building that was built at a right angle to the rest of the building.

  From there, Fiona had continued with the tour of the other buildings. She’d seen the large shed where her car was parked in further detail. She hadn’t realised how much machinery went into cattle farming. She had always pictured tractors and the like as being for vegetable farmers; funny how stereotypes affected perceptions.

  Then they had moved to the cold room, which was fairly large in size in order to store the food stuff able to be frozen. Fiona informed her that they went to Charters Towers once a month and did a monster grocery shop and this was where as much as possible ended up. The cold room also had to be big enough to hang a full beef carcass for a couple of days before they cut it up each time they killed for their own supply. There also needed to be room to store all the beef once cut up. Aurora mentally turned her nose up at the thought of a dead animal being hung in there, but she had to face it, meat had to start somewhere, it didn’t just grow on styrofoam trays.

  She’d been impressed by the line of ten super-sized water tanks where they stored the rain water that the various rooflines collected. The system was really well set-up. Aurora hadn’t thought about where the water supply came from out here, miles away from any town supply.

  They had then looped around to the yards that were just visible from the courtyard area. They spread out quite a bit with different sized and shaped yards linking together. Fiona had pointed out the crush and the ramp for loading cattle onto trucks. She thought that they were due to load more for sale in one weeks time, so Aurora would get to see them in action. To one side of the yards was a 100 acre paddock where the working horses were kept.

  It seemed to be a well laid-out and functioning property. Aurora appreciated the fact that she had been offered the chance to explore it without feeling like she was under the watch of the others. Most of all though, she had been grateful for the break from the pushing, pulling, lifting, shovelling and raking that they had done in the stable building earlier. It wasn’t that she didn’t like to work, but she was a pen pusher usually and the physical work had really knocked it out of her.

  As they had been making their way back from the yards to the house, Aurora could hear talk and laughter coming from inside. She smiled. She was glad life here had light-hearted and happy moments. Childhood was a precious thing and the news was full day after day of abused and hurting children. It made it worthwhile to think that there was still the possibility of a happy childhood available.

  Trudy had seen them coming and had organised morning tea, after which they’d helped her finish off the baking. Aurora was thankful that she had done some baking with Gran when she was younger. She would have felt a right fool when the two young girls seemed quite at home in the kitchen. Trudy had decided after breakfast to go into a baking frenzy. She was certain that when the crew got back they were bound to be ravenous.

  Aurora and Fiona had pulled the last of the biscuits out of the oven, helped cut the tops off the butterfly cakes and giggled with Kate and Harriet over the youngsters’ plans for finishing them off with mock cream. In the end the two girls had produced some super-sweet, unusual creations that were bound to be demolished in a few seconds flat. When it came to icing the carrot cake, the apple and cinnamon cake, the orange ring cake and filling the sponge cake that were littered about the table, Kate and Harriet proved themselves experienced hands. Fiona beamed at the pair proudly. Aurora cringed feeling quite inadequate when she compared their abilities with her own, which usually came down to wandering down to the local bakery and bringing a cake home with her.

  When the cakes were put into cake tins, the Anzac biscuits, melting moments and choc-chip cookies housed in airtight containers and the Mars Bar slice cut up and stored, they had stopped for lunch. Fiona had decided that she was going to read for a bit after lunch and Trudy and the girls were sitting on the floor in the spare child’s room playing Yahtzee. They had invited Aurora to join them but she had felt that they maybe needed to spend some time together without her. Aside from that, although the girls were now less skittish around her, they still didn’t seem comfortable, so she decided that she would go and read a bit more of her novel, maybe even throw in a nanna nap for good measure.

  If she were being honest she probably needed a little time on her own anyway. There had been so much new information with a couple of foreign experiences thrown in and her head was buzzing a bit. She was feeling more than a little outside of her comfort zone simply by being in a different environment and unexpected things kept popping up. Even though her grandmother’s letter had mentioned it, she hadn’t expected to be handed the journal on day one, so it had been the surprise packet from yesterday, the horses and her willingness to be anywhere near them had been today’s and she couldn’t help wondering how many more surprises were in store for her before she went home.

  five

  Strangers

  Aurora was trying desperately to keep her attention focused on her book. She must have read the same two paragraphs at least three times and it just wasn’t going in. Her mind kept wandering. She had caught herself unconsciously looking at the bottom drawer a couple of times. She finally gave up on the book and put it down. This time she deliberately looked at the bottom drawer. Should she open the journal and have a read? As she lay there for a few minutes a battle raged in her mind. There were reasons both for and against reading it and they were as equally compelling as each other. She also had to admit that she was a little hurt by the fact that Gran had never mentioned this place or the people. She had thought that she and Gran had been close. To find out that there was a seemingly large part of her life that Gran had not shared had injured her feelings more than a little.

  In the end she got up and retrieved the journal from the bottom drawer. She sat cross legged in the middle of the bed and laid it on the quilt in front of her sticking her hands in her lap. She looked at the book. It couldn’t be that hard to open it, surely. She gingerly reached out and opened the front cover brushing her fingertips over the words ‘Isabella Lily Munro’. She drew in a deep breath and turned the first page over.

  21 December 1945

  Tomorrow we marry. I have been a little cheeky in writing my married name inside this journal,
although I think that no harm will come from it. After tomorrow I will no longer be Isabella Lily Frances. I am both excited and terrified: excited over a new beginning and terrified at launching myself into a new life. It’s not that things will change dramatically, but they will change. Charles has organised a woman to do the cooking, cleaning and general domestic things and he already has a gardener/maintenance man for the outside and heavy work. Ma and Pa are still, not in favour of our match, even though Charles has proved that he will provide more than adequately for me. They still maintain that I am marrying beneath me and that I would be better off to marry somebody of equal standing. It is a continual argument with no outcome. I am resolved to wed Charles tomorrow. Marriage is not only about duty, love must come into it. So tomorrow I walk up the aisle of the cathedral and marry my lawyer. The bells will peal and we will be a new family. My new life may not have the blessing of my parents, but it is what I want. Twenty-three isn’t too old to marry despite the continual reminders that I could have married Reginald Wyatt four years ago whilst still in the ‘blush of my youth’. They don’t understand that it would have made me desperately unhappy. Reginald cared more about his Springer Spaniels than he did me. That small fact didn’t seem to matter to Ma though...

  Aurora reread the first entry.

  Crap.

  Gran had come from money.

  She had never known that and she also hadn’t known that there had been an issue over the marriage. As to who Reginald was, no idea and no way to find out unless there were more journals stored somewhere at Gran’s house. Or maybe Google him, that was a thought. Something to do when she got home.

  Wow.

  It never occurred to her that there were issues and intrigue in her grandmother’s past. She supposed that in the way of all children she had never thought of her parents, or in this instance grandparents, having a life apart from what she knew. Her initial reticence to read the journal was forgotten as she quickly moved to the next entry.

  22 December 1945

  This is it. At 2pm this afternoon I will become Mrs Charles Munro. Eight hours from now to be exact. All the fussing starts later in the morning. Ma insisted on the lavish silk gown. It has long sleeves that come to a point over my hand, so there is no need for gloves, a fitted bodice with a circular band that runs from shoulder to shoulder, the band heavily beaded in pearls and crystals. From under the bust it moves into 8 gored pieces that fall in beautiful folds flowing into a train at the rear. The only ornamentation, at my request, is the beaded piece from shoulder to shoulder. The veil, following the fashion, reaches the ground at the back and fixes on towards the back of my head. I would have preferred fresh flowers to top my head, but Ma insisted that I use artificial flowers as I couldn’t pass fresh flowers on to my children. Ma also requested that the crystals be sewn into flower designs at the bottom of fine tulle of the veil. I didn’t have the heart to refuse. I am, after all, their only daughter. After being made up and having my hair pinned, I will be dressed in all the feminine undergarments that Ma bought, then stepped into the dress and the sixty-eight pearl buttons done up. Shoes will be slipped on my stockinged feet, a bouquet of roses placed in my hand. Pa will escort me out the door, into the waiting car, and then up the aisle of the cathedral. Two flower girls, one page boy and four bridesmaids will precede me up the aisle, but eventually it will be my turn. From the wedding to the reception, from the reception to the hotel and in the morning we leave on our month long honeymoon. Just him and me.

  Aurora could picture a younger version of her grandmother walking up the aisle, dressed as she had described. Her own mother hadn’t worn Gran’s dress when she had married Dad. Aurora had seen the photos and Mum’s dress had been short, above the knee, and lacy. She wondered what had happened to Gran’s dress. Maybe it was in one of the boxes stored in the storage room at Gran’s house. She would have to remember to have a look to see if it was squirreled away anywhere when she got back to Sydney.

  Although she hadn’t known her grandmother as a younger woman, Aurora was enjoying this brief glimpse of a youthful, eager bride. She smiled at the picture that flashed through her mind. She was impatient to read the next few entries in the journal and quickly turned the page seeking the next one, hoping for more details on the wedding. This snippet of the early days in her grandparents’ lives had her enthralled.

  3 January 1946

  We have spent the last week and a half travelling and now find ourselves quite by accident at Bilgarra Springs.

  Aurora stopped reading. Her disappointment on not receiving any further details on the wedding was quickly pushed aside by stupefaction. Her mind was reeling.

  They had both been here.

  During their honeymoon.

  She couldn’t get her eye to move beyond those words ‘find ourselves quite by accident at Bilgarra Springs.’ Aurora was jarred out of her thoughts by the sound of feet running along the hallway and two little voices excitedly calling out.

  ‘Grandma, Grandma, they’re here. Daddy’s back. Come see.’

  A stronger voice cut across those of the two little girls as Trudy made her way down the hallway after them, trying to rein them in, but trying not to make too much noise as she did so.

  ‘Girls! I thought I told you to leave your great-grandmother alone. She’s probably asleep.’

  Trudy paused at Aurora’s door, caught her eye and smiled, hesitating, unsure of herself, before finally deciding to speak. She leant against the doorjamb, her chase of Kate and Harriet abandoned.

  ‘I guess she won’t be asleep anymore, bloody little monsters. Come on out and I’ll introduce you to everybody.’

  With that, Trudy turned and returned up the hallway to join the new arrivals. Aurora put the open journal on the bed and followed Trudy. Her curiosity had been piqued regarding the others as well and although she would have liked to keep reading the current journal entry it would have been rude to refuse Trudy’s invitation. Being honest with herself, she admitted that she was also interested to see whether the mental pictures that she had formed of them all fit reality. By the time she reached the courtyard they were lounging all over the place – on the benches, on the table and on plastic outdoor chairs. With a self-confidence that had so far been missing in her dealings with Aurora, Trudy came over, thrust a can of Coke in Aurora’s right hand and grabbed her by the left arm, propelling her to stand in front of the impromptu group.

  ‘Everybody, this is Aurora. Aurora, I’ll go round the group that pair’s Heather and Con. Next along is Gerry, beside him is Arthur, Fiona’s husband, next to him is Matt, then Keith, our resident Casanova. The handsome gentleman standing beside him is Rick, my husband, so hands off there. Mike is the one with his butt on the table. Trevor’s sitting astride the bench. He’s Arthur and Fiona’s son and Rick and Cal’s father. Speaking of whom, the other rude sod with his grotty backside on the table is Callan. He answers to Cal. Theresa is the luscious blonde who just joined us. And that’s it, the whole crew.’

  Aurora felt the weight of ten pairs of eyes staring at her and weighing her up. She couldn’t help but wonder if they were comparing her to the image that they had pictured. She couldn’t believe for her part, how wrong her daydream imaginings had been. Heather was an elegant dark haired woman of about six foot two, mid twenties. Con on the other hand, appeared to only be about five foot ten and was thick set with dark (she assumed Mediterranean) features. Gerry looked to be in his mid fifties, bald head, round the same height as Con, but toothpick thin. Arthur was a tall, maybe six foot six, elderly gentleman, not stooped in the shoulders as she would have expected from somebody so tall, with a thick thatch of white hair. Matt appeared as though he had just come from an army training camp, heavily muscled and sporting a shaved head.

  Keith, well she could understand why he had been referred to as Casanova. She guessed him to be in his mid twenties and he could easily pass for a younger Hugh Jackman’s twin. He also had that ‘you-know-you-want-me’ air that seemed t
o draw unthinking women like bees to a honey-pot. Mike looked like your average boy next door, the sort that your parents desperately wanted you to bring home as they were a ‘nice boy’, but the sort that teenage girls tended to ignore simply because they were nice boys. In Trevor, Aurora could see traits of both his mother and his father, and glancing between him and Rick, she could see a definite resemblance. Callan wasn’t quite as close in looks to his father as Rick, but there was still a likeness.

  As for Callan, well if she had to put him into words, she’d peg him as the typical hero of your average western Mills & Boon novel – strong jaw, dark unruly hair, stubble, stunning blue eyes, wide shoulders and narrow hips. As far as women went, Theresa was a knockout luscious blonde didn’t do her justice. Small, thin, blonde and curvy with green eyes. She looked as though she would weigh a whole 45kg wringing wet. Aurora was neither tall nor fat, but with what she regarded as plain features and an average size figure, she felt like an unremarkable elephant beside Theresa.

  After the couple of seconds that it took for her to do a mental inventory of them all, they all started talking to her, and to each other, all at once and on top of each other. It felt a bit like being trapped in an aviary full of parrots. Luckily they didn’t seem to be actually asking her any questions, more doing the usual ‘Nice to meet you’, ‘How are you’ thing that happens when strangers meet, which was lucky because she couldn’t have individually answered any of them had her life depended on it. The smiling, nod your head thing seemed to be working just fine.