by Joy Rhoades
‘Stop!’ Kate yelled at them. ‘Stop this now!’ She grabbed the running hose, put a finger over it to increase the pressure and came at Grimes from the side, pushing the wide stream in his mouth.
He stepped back spluttering, turning from her, his shirt wet and filthy with dust.
‘You will stop this, I tell you!’ Her voice was low with anger.
Coughing, Grimes looked at her with contempt. ‘Or what, Mrs D? Or bloody what?’
Luca, breathing hard, picked up the clippers. Ready.
Grimes spat. ‘I quit, anyhow. I’ve had it.’ He stalked away, shaking his head.
Kate was shaking. If Grimes quit, dear God, what would become of Harry?
As the last of the sun lit the horizon, the truck came to a slow stop at the homestead. Kate, in the veggie garden, could see the moving outlines of Johnno and Spinks in the truck tray as Ed limped over to her at the fence.
‘Grimes quit?’ Ed asked.
‘Yes.’ Kate looked at her fingers through the holes at the tips of the worn-out gloves. ‘This afternoon. He won’t be talked out of it.’ She’d gone to the cottage to try. ‘They go first thing tomorrow. You’ll need to take them into town, if that’s all right.’ It occurred to her that with the bank closed on a Sunday, she’d have to use the five pounds they kept in the storeroom for emergencies to give Grimes what she owed him. Jack would have tried not to pay him but that wasn’t right.
‘Where’s Harry?’ Ed asked.
‘I’m not sure. He took off, Luca said.’ Kate didn’t tell Ed that Luca had gone to find Harry, hoping to convince the boy to stay on Amiens, but Harry had already shot through somewhere. His uncle would never allow him to stay anyhow. ‘What do you think Grimes’ll do?’
‘I dunno,’ Ed said. ‘No shortage o’ work. There’s a drove due in a coupla days from Canning Downs.’
‘Droving? How could he take a child droving?’
‘Bin done before. Harry’s pretty handy round stock now, too.’
Kate pulled her gloves off. If they went droving, Harry would have to give up school. ‘How’s Daisy?’ she asked.
‘Orright. She reckons it’s close, now.’
‘Has she got help?’
‘Aunty Nance comin tomorrow mornin.’
‘Good. Good luck,’ she said. If she were about to give birth without midwife or family around, Kate would be terrified. ‘And I’m here too,’ she added, wondering what help she’d be.
Kate got up early on the Sunday morning, just before five, thinking of Daisy, aware of each hour. She took a moment to stand at the kitchen door, her hands cradling a mug of hot tea, to listen to the sounds of the morning. She looked out across the Amiens garden, the house paddock, on to the crossing and the hills on the horizon, and felt a deep sadness at Harry’s departure in a matter of hours.
Later, as Kate was preparing Grimes’s last pay packet at the kitchen table, Ed tapped at the door, his hat in his big hands. He looked worried.
‘You all right?’ Kate asked.
‘Daisy started at four o’clock this mornin.’
‘Is the Aunty there yet?’
‘Due this mornin too.’
‘Where’s Daisy?’
‘Near the camp.’
‘Can I go down? Would she have me?’
‘Don’t rightly know,’ Ed said. ‘Luca’ll stay, within earshot. Least till Aunty Nance gets here.’
‘I’m here if you need me. Ask her?’
Kate watched him walk back across the lawn and said a silent prayer for a safe delivery of the baby. She wondered – too late to ask – why it was Luca, not Ed, standing by?
An hour or so later, the truck, with Ed driving, stopped at the house gate. A few pieces of furniture stuck up from the truck tray, tied in for the trip to town. Harry sat in the front between Ed and Grimes. Kate hoped she’d get to say goodbye.
Grimes came up the verandah stairs, a lit pipe in his mouth; he no longer worked for her and could smoke where he liked. He counted his pay carefully, put the cash in the breast pocket of his shirt then signed the ledger. Taking a long drag on his pipe, he blew the smoke away from her. ‘You shouldn’t be ashamed, you know, Mrs D. About the bank and all that.’
So he had known about the debt. She kept her eyes on the ledger.
Then his voice was softer. ‘It’s not a job for a girl, runnin a place. You’re a worker, orright, but you’ll never do it.’
‘We’ll see.’
‘I liked your old man, ya know. Bloody shame for ya when he started to lose his marbles.’
Kate looked up. ‘I seen how he was. But I stuck it out for him. Now he’s gone. No offence, but I’m not working for a girl.’
Kate didn’t trust herself to say anything else. She stood up but Grimes wasn’t finished. He took a puff on his pipe. ‘I reckon Daisy’s round here too, eh? I hear she’s missin.’
‘I haven’t seen Daisy since you and I left her at the Home,’ Kate said.
‘Bloody Abos, eh? Remember Ed’s Abo, too. He’ll go walkabout, f’sure. So if you reckon he’s gunna stick around …’ Grimes shook his head.
Kate told herself he was trying to help her. ‘Where will you go with Harry?’
‘Now that’s my business.’ He put his hat on. ‘Good luck to ya, Mrs D.’ He walked back to the truck.
Kate followed him out to the fence. Harry sat in the truck cab next to Ed, with his eyes down.
‘Goodbye, Harry,’ Kate called. ‘Good luck. Don’t forget us, will you?’
He snuck a glance at her and wiped his nose on his sleeve. She tried not to cry herself; it would make it harder for him. Yet when the truck moved off towards the crossing, she couldn’t hold her tears. After driving over the grid, the truck stopped and Grimes got out to tighten the tie-downs on their sticks of furniture.
With Grimes in the tray, Harry jumped down from the cabin and ran full pelt up the hill towards her. She came out of the gate and he grabbed her, more a tackle than a hug, his spikey hair prickling her chin. She held him tight until he pulled away and ran back to the truck.
CHAPTER 41
A ‘new chum’ woolgrower, standing as he does before an abyss of knowledge, may feel keenly the complexity of his vocation.
THE WOOLGROWER’S COMPANION, 1906
After lunch, with Harry’s absence weighing on her, Kate spotted Vittorio on his way to the poddy lambs and she called for him to come.
The cut above his eye was a line of dried blood. He had a plaster on it, the edge of it caught up in the top of his beard sideburn.
‘Is Aunty Nance there now? With Daisy?’ she asked.
Vittorio frowned and looked off towards the shed and the pen.
‘You know, Aunty Nance and so on? Are they here?’
‘Aunty Nance,’ he said, scratching his beard. ‘Sì.’
Kate was relieved. A little. ‘So is the baby born? Bambino?’ She rocked her arms, miming for him.
‘Sì, bene,’ Vittorio said, nodding.
‘There’s a baby?’ Kate said, grabbing his wrist. ‘Really? When?’
‘No, no. Nessun bambino.’ Vittorio rolled his eyes as if she were an idiot.
Kate gave up and abandoned him to the lambs. It was almost two o’clock, and Daisy had been in labour for ten hours. Kate knew little about babies, but ten hours was much too long for a ewe.
Luca did not turn up to garden, and Kate worried alone in the veggie beds, more and more concerned as the day stretched into the late afternoon. She hoped he was near Daisy and Ed, ready to do what he could. When she heard a vehicle just before five, she threw her gloves onto the lawn and ran for the gate.
The truck was pulled up at an odd angle to the shed, engine idling. It was Luca. He jumped down, leaving the cabin door open. ‘Signora! Andiamo! Aunty Nance non è qui.’
He was distracted. These were Italian words.
‘Aunty Nance?’ she said.
‘She is no here! You come now!’ He gestured for her to go with him.
&nb
sp; Kate ran into the house, threw the kettle on and scrubbed her hands hard and fast with soap and hot water. She grabbed the basket she’d prepared early that morning, just in case: clean rag and a towel, a water bag, some bikkies, and now a Thermos of that warmish water. She delivered her basket and her father’s tarp into the hands of Luca, and ran back into the kitchen.
‘Signora, rapidamente!’
This time, she grabbed some dripping, mutton fat, from the kerosene fridge, hoping, dear God, she would not have to use the lubricant. Kate ran out with the mutton fat in her arms, and scrambled up into the cab.
Luca moved the truck off, as she pulled the cabin door shut. ‘Is Daisy all right?’
But he said nothing, his concentration on the darkening track. The engine pitch climbed and Luca shifted up.
‘Is the baby born?’
‘No.’ He would not look at her.
‘Daisy has trouble?’ Kate pressed. ‘With the baby?’
Luca nodded. ‘Sì.’
Kate could say nothing. But she was fearful. How could she help?
As they approached the camp, Kate saw Johnno and Spinks squatting by the fire in front of the hut, the flames throwing red shadows across their shirts. Johnno gave a gentle wave at the truck, but Luca drove on.
‘Stop,’ Kate said, pointing. ‘There’s the camp.’
‘No, no.’ Luca hunched forwards, hands gripping the steering wheel.
Where was he going? There was nothing along this road for a mile or more. With no warning, Luca braked hard and put his arm in front of Kate to stop her from hitting the dash. He switched off the engine and jumped out, leaving his door open. He grabbed the tarp and jogged towards the creek. ‘Presto!’ he called, and disappeared down between the black wattles. Worried she’d lose him, Kate followed in the dim light.
Down in the creek bed it was darker still, a canopy of wattles overhead. She found Luca and Vittorio. ‘Where’s Daisy?’ she asked. Luca pointed beyond a fallen trunk. Daisy was squatting in the sand, hunched up against the tree, her huge belly in front of her, the dress tight around it, a small campfire just beyond.
‘Where’s Aunty Nance and the others?’
Ed frowned. ‘We run into three Auntys on the way t’town t’day, me and Grimes, just inside the Amiens fence line. Grimes told em he’d call the cops if they didn’t go back into town with us.’
Jesus. Ruddy Grimes. ‘So where are they now?’
‘Aunty Nance – she’s one of em – woulden give in. She musta dropped off the truck, cos when we got t’town, we still had two but she were gone. I reckon she must be comin overland through the back paddocks, but she shoulda bin here now, eh? I’m gunna get a horse up into that country. Tracks are too rough for the truck.’
‘Maybe send Spinks and Johnno? But first can you help me move Daisy to the camp or the house?’
‘She won’t go. She wants the baby birthed outside, on country like she was.’
‘You sure?’
‘Bloody sure.’
‘But will Daisy even want me then?’
‘She was askin for ya.’
Kate said nothing for a bit, silenced by Daisy’s forgiveness. ‘I can leave when the Auntys get here.’
‘Aw, I reckon they’ll want ya there, eh.’
She swallowed. That’d be the easy bit for Kate, after the Aboriginal midwives got there – for now she was on her own. ‘Find Aunty Nance. Please.’
‘Too right, Mrs D.’
Ed warned the POWs, ‘You blokes make yourselves scarce too, eh.’ He walked back along the creek bed. Vittorio followed at a clip, needing no encouragement to leave.
Luca must have seen her fear. ‘I am here. Up. Behind.’ He pointed to the top of the bank where the roots of the eucalypt spiked into the darkening sky. Then he ran his fingers along her jawline to her chin and touched her lips, just as he had done that day in the garden, before her father’s funeral. ‘Buona fortuna,’ he said.
Shocked again by the feeling of his fingers on her lips, Kate watched him walk away. With her basket, she went to the far side of the creek bed, and climbed through the branches of the dead tree. Daisy was still on her haunches, head back, eyes closed, her face washed out with pain.
‘Daisy, it’s me,’ she said. Kate pushed a curl of her hair, matted with sweat and dust, gently behind her ear. The girl rolled her head over but didn’t open her eyes. Kate poured a little water from the water bag onto a clean rag and wiped her forehead. ‘Can you hear me?’
The girl’s eyelids fluttered. She could not focus. When Kate took up Daisy’s hand, she whimpered at the touch, then she grunted, sucking in a breath as a contraction started. She yelled something Kate didn’t understand, and gripped her hand as the contraction went on. When it started to subside, Daisy panted with relief.
‘You want some water, Daisy?’ Kate got the bag and held it to her lips while she sipped a little, still puffing. Water spilled across her chin and down her front, yet she didn’t notice. What should Kate check? Daisy was breathing all right. What was next? Birth sac. Holding the girl’s hand in one of her own, she used the other to feel around on the ground, patting the dirt under Daisy’s haunches. Dust and dry sand met her fingertips. ‘Daisy,’ she said as she mopped the girl’s forehead gently, ‘did you lose your water?’
The girl opened her eyes and gazed at her blankly.
‘Did your water come?’
She dropped her head back. ‘No water, Missus.’ Then she pulled her head up, looking straight at Kate. ‘You reckon e’s orright, me baby?’
‘For sure.’ Kate squeezed the girl’s hand and smiled. ‘Right as rain. Just got to get himself born.’
Daisy inhaled sharply and gripped Kate’s hand as another contraction came on. She yelled and panted through it, her knuckles white on Kate’s, relaxing only when the pain ebbed. Kate looked at her watch again. Where was Ed?
CHAPTER 42
Blood will tell. The progeny of even the boldest ram will disappoint if he is put to ewes of poor fleece weight or low muscling.
THE WOOLGROWER’S COMPANION, 1906
Kate glanced up into the gums on the bank but could not see Luca, so she sat, holding the girl’s hand, feeling worse than useless. ‘What can I do? Please tell me.’
Daisy dropped her head back and stretched her neck from side to side. Kate shifted behind her, and leaned in to stroke the girl’s shoulders. There were no more contractions.
‘Dais, I’m going to have a look. Underneath. All right?’
She didn’t respond. Kate tried her best, but all she could see in the fading light was the mass of black hair between Daisy’s legs. She wished the contractions would keep coming.
Daisy shivered, a shake that went across her body in the failing light. Heat: Kate could do something about that. She pulled one of the smaller branches of the dead tree and dragged it to the fire. She watched, worried about the thirsty trees on the creek beds catching.
‘Missus.’
‘Yes?’ Kate came back from the fire and took Daisy’s hand again. The girl’s breathing was more regular.
They sat for a few minutes in silence, Daisy looking with blank eyes at the fire. Then she spoke. ‘Ya mum alwus come, eh, for the bornins. Ya mum, an the Auntys.’
Kate nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was glad that Luca was off in the trees. She felt stronger, knowing he was out there.
‘An you come, eh, Missus?’
She nodded again and squeezed the girl’s hand.
Daisy half-smiled and closed her eyes. Night approached. Kate did what she could. She wiped Daisy’s forehead and gave her sips of water and rubbed her neck and back.
At last, lights from a vehicle snaked into the black sky. Kate heard Luca moving through the scrub towards the truck. The lights stopped still and Kate heard voices. Moments later, she could make out Luca and Vittorio in the creek bed and a little figure following behind.
As Aunty Nance came into the firelight, Kate could see her more clearly. An
Aboriginal woman with white-grey hair, and a gait as quick as Luca’s, she was short – no more than five feet – with stick arms and legs. She had a long string dilly bag on her back with a big coolamon in it, the flat of that shallow dish against her spine. She took the bag off, dropping it in the sand. Smiling at Kate, Aunty Nance moved by her to Daisy, clucking her tongue as she ran her hands over Daisy’s face, under her nose, down her neck and over her belly. Then she stood and flailed her arms at the men, scowling, waving them away, and they disappeared into the darkness along the creek bed.
‘Dais. Dais, littlie, y’orright, eh?’
Daisy opened her eyes and smiled at the woman, relief flooding her face.
Aunty Nance turned to Kate. ‘Up now, girl.’ She motioned Kate to help her get Daisy on her feet and together they did, one on either side. Daisy groaned in pain at the movement.
‘To the house?’ Kate asked.
The old woman shook her head. ‘Birthin tree, Missus.’ She patted the thick trunk of the tree. ‘We stop ere, eh. Bornin here. On country.’ She tightened her grip on Daisy’s waist. ‘Walk, daughter. Walk, eh.’
Daisy hung between them, staggering at first, more carried than walking. Then she put weight on each foot, more aware of where she was, every few steps followed by rest. She was lucid now, and calm. They kept up the routine for thirty minutes: a few minutes’ walking, a few minutes’ rest. Still there were no contractions.
‘You got tucker, Missus?’ Daisy asked. Kate rifled in her basket and brought out the brown paper bag of Anzac biscuits. Daisy chewed a little then drew in a breath. Aunty Nance clucked, pleased, yet Daisy swallowed a cry.
The old lady prompted, ‘Sing out, daughter. All ya air.’ So Daisy did then, yelling for her baby and for herself. When they next got her up, Aunty Nance coaxed the girl to put her hands on the thick branch above them, and she hung from it, her huge belly before her.
‘Up, up, littlie,’ Aunty Nance said and when Daisy stood, water glistened down the girl’s leg.