Emma nodded her head but said nothing.
‘Emma,’ Coltrane wiped perspiration from his face with a large white handkerchief. ‘I will do what I can to help you, but we live in difficult times. Hard decisions will have to be made if any of us are to survive the Depression and this endless drought. With your father gone and your mother being in the condition she is, the responsibility for your family will rest largely on your shoulders. I suggest you see your father’s solicitor as soon as you feel up to it. He is in a position to advise you. In the meantime I can offer you all a roof over your heads and food enough to eat. However, I’m afraid with things being the way they are, I can’t offer your family any long-term guarantees.’
CHAPTER THREE
The view from the window of the conference room of Fairchild and Associates (Solicitors & Attorneys) was nothing short of breathtaking. Located on the fifth floor of an elegant sandstone building near Circular Quay, the large window presented a sweeping panorama of Sydney Harbor.
Fenton George Fairchild K.C., the law firm’s founding partner, stood alone at the window gazing thoughtfully out over the shimmering blue water. The gigantic twin iron arms of the yet-to-be completed Sydney Harbor Bridge, which for so long had been reaching out for each other like lovers from each side of the harbor, were now locked blissfully together awaiting the laying of the bridge deck. Over the years, watching the progress of the unique structure had become Fairchild’s passion.
The twin mahogany doors to the conference room opened and the firm’s partners quickly took their places at a large oblong table. When Fairchild heard the door behind him close, he turned from the window and took his place at the head of the table.
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ Fairchild he solemnly. ‘I appreciate you all coming at such short notice. I believe what I have to say this morning is of the utmost importance to all of us. As everyone is aware, the Depression is worsening every day. Unemployment has exceeded twenty-five percent since Australia’s loan accommodations have been suspended by the London banks, small businesses are going to the wall at an unprecedented rate and thousands of homeless people are living in shanty towns on the fringes of all our major cities. Unfortunately, all this just plays into the hands of the communists who will stop at nothing to gain a foothold in our country. Worse still, our politicians haven’t the faintest idea what to do about it. And Mr Lang, the state premier, has not only chosen to lay all the blame at the feet of the British bondholders who have financed the development of the Commonwealth since federation, but has also threatened to suspend all interest payments to them.’
Fairchild took a deep breath and gripped the lapels of his jacket.
‘Gentlemen,’ he continued, ‘I believe a solution to Australia’s problems has been found. I think yesterday, the fifteenth of March, will be recorded as a turning point in our nation’s history. Last night I attended a private meeting at the Imperial Services Club, convened by Lieutenant Colonel Eric Campbell DSO, who distinguished himself as an officer with the Australian Imperial Force, but more recently is well known to most of us as a fellow solicitor here in Sydney. At last night’s meeting, eight prominent citizens unanimously agreed to form a new paramilitary organization, to be known as the New Guard, dedicated to bringing this country back from the brink, either by peaceful means or by direct military action.’
A murmur of surprise ran through the men sitting at the table.
‘At that meeting,’ Fairchild continued, ‘I not only offered my personal support to Mr Campbell and the New Guard, but also pledged the sum of two thousand pounds on behalf of this firm. The money will to equip and train New Guard recruits.’ Fairchild clenched his fists and laid them on the table. He leaned forward. ‘Now gentlemen, do I have your unqualified support for that financial pledge?’
There was another murmur from the men around the table.
‘Two thousand pounds is a lot of money, Fenton,’ ventured one of the older partners.
‘Desperate times call for desperate measures, William,’ Fairchild replied quickly.
‘But how many men does your New Guard expect to recruit?’ the older partner asked.
‘As many as it takes.’ Fairchild stepped back to the window and waved an arm toward the harbor. ‘Gentlemen. Look at that bridge out there. It has been an enormous undertaking. It has taken years and a staggering amount of capital to build. When it is complete it will stand as a monument to the world, showing what Australians can do.’ Fairchild raised his hand and wagged an admonishing finger. ‘But a year from now, will there even be an Australia, at least as we know it, if the likes of Premier Lang disgrace us by not honoring our obligations as a state and as a nation? I think not gentlemen—not unless responsible citizens undertake an even bigger project than this magnificent bridge and unite behind the banner of the New Guard to build a, safe, secure Commonwealth of Australia, loyal to the British Empire.’
There was a brief silence. Then another partner spoke.
‘I think we would all agree with the aims of your New Guard, Fenton,’ the partner said. ‘But surely, with this armed intervention you spoke of, it could be very dangerous.’
‘Most of the men at last night’s meeting were ex-officers with the Australian Imperial Force,’ Fairchild replied. ‘They led our fighting men during the war. Such men are used to danger. They will form the vanguard of the New Guard. Our role is merely to provide funds to help the movement achieve its aims and to assist in finding people sympathetic to the cause.’
Fairchild’s eyes moved around the men seated at the table.
‘Mr Campbell asked if we could assist in gaining the support of any influential businessmen or ex-military personnel we may have among our clients. The more friends we have in high places, the easier the task of the New Guard will be. Mr Campbell also suggested we should move quickly to send some of our young professional people to visit the Riverina and New England areas, regions that are pressing for secession from the State of New South Wales. He believes it is important to gain support from the Sydney establishment for any anti-Lang forces, wherever they may be found.’
By midday, a resolution was passed pledging two thousand pounds to the New Guard Movement, with further funding possible later, depending on the accomplishments of the fledgling organization.
Several partners in the firm offered their co-operation in gaining support for the New Guard among some of their more influential clients. Many of the important names mentioned were residents of other states. Some were from Queensland. One of the Queenslanders was Patrick Coltrane, a wealthy pastoralist from Augathella.
CHAPTER FOUR
The McKennas stayed only one night in the big house at Essex Downs. Next day they moved into a vacant worker’s two bedroom cottage in a flat paddock just outside the main homestead compound. It was late afternoon before Mary and Beth had cleaned the cottage and the furniture Elliot had brought down from Yallambee was carried inside. Thankfully, the twins had been kept busy all day fetching and carrying, which gave them little time to brood.
Kathleen had still not spoken since the shooting and she showed no signs of recognizing her surroundings. But Emma was thankful of her mother’s lapse into a mute state of shock. It spared her the humiliation of coming to Essex Downs in such distasteful circumstances and having to endure Patrick Coltrane’s obvious aversion to the family’s presence there. Emma only wished there were relations on her mother’s side they could have turned to.
At the end of a long and difficult day, the McKennas were finally alone in their new spartan surroundings. The boys went to bed in a small room they were sharing just as soon as they had eaten sandwiches which Emma prepared as a makeshift evening meal. Later, Emma bathed Kathleen and prepared her for bed. Just as she was about to push the wheelchair into the bedroom, there was a knock on the cottage door. Emma opened it to find Laura and Mary, the older of the two Aboriginal domestics, standing outside on the small porch in the moonlight.
‘May we come in for a
moment?’ Laura asked
‘Of course.’
Emma led her aunt and Mary through to the kitchen. Mary crossed the room and stood beside Kathleen’s wheelchair. She spoke a few words but Kathleen made no response.
‘I came over to tell you the doctor rang to say he’ll call tomorrow morning to see your mother,’ Laura said. ‘And Elliot said he’ll drive you into town early enough for you to see the solicitor before the funeral service tomorrow afternoon.’ Laura took Emma’s hand in hers. ‘Now Emma, I brought Mary over because I want her to help you as much as she can. She’ll come over for a while each day to clean house and help you with your mother.’
‘Thank you, Aunt Laura,’ Emma said. ‘But it’s really not necessary. The boys and I will be able to manage all right.’
‘No, I insist,’ Laura said quickly. ‘Just tell Mary what she needs to do and when to do it. After the doctor’s visit tomorrow, she can prepare your mother for the funeral. She’ll be riding into town with Patrick, myself, and the boys.’
Laura looked around the tiny room, from the cracked ceiling and insect-stained walls, to the large patches of worn-out linoleum on the floor. Her kind eyes moistened. ‘Oh God, Emma, this place is just terrible. You must know I had no part in moving you in here.’
‘It’s all right,’ Emma said reassuringly. ‘We’re very grateful.’
‘But I wanted you all to be with me. At a time like this you all need to be looked after properly. It’s the least your father would have expected of me.’.
‘Ahh…’ The sound came from the wheelchair. Emma and Laura turned to see Kathleen leaning toward Mary. Her mouth was moving slightly as if she was trying to speak. Mary reached out and took Kathleen’s hand in hers. Then Kathleen’s eyes closed and her head slowly rested on her shoulder as sleep overtook her.
*
The doctor from Augathella called just after nine the next morning. His diagnosis was that Kathleen was taking an unusually long time to come out of shock and that such a reaction was uncommon but certainly not unheard of. He ordered that she be allowed to get as much rest as possible and said he would call again in a few days.
Elliot came to the cottage a few minutes after the doctor left to take Emma into town. They rode into Auguthella in his father’s Buick roadster. Emma wore a navy-blue cotton dress with a small black armband, but a touch of rouge gave color to her cheeks. She carried a brown leather wallet with her which her father had always used to hold important papers.
‘Father said I should go in to old Braithewaite’s office with you,’ Elliot said on the way into town. ‘He thinks I should be there to see if anything can be salvaged out of Yallambee. He said some things could easily slip by an old country solicitor.’ When Emma made no comment, Elliot changed the subject. ‘You know, I’ll soon have finished my studies at agricultural college. Father says a man needs a sound education these days to run a large property successfully.’
Emma turned to Elliot. ‘My father always said to succeed you have to get a little dirt on your hands.’ She turned away and stared out at the road ahead. ‘And besides, no amount of education can make it rain.’
Elliot laughed. ‘I suppose that’s true. But I’ll soon be running my own property, perhaps even Essex Downs if Father succeeds in getting into politics.’ Elliot took his eyes briefly off the road to look at Emma. ‘Anyway, do you want me to talk with old Braithewaite or not?’
Emma shook her head quickly. ‘No, thank you, Elliot. Your father has already made it perfectly clear to me that I have to take responsibility for the McKenna family now. And the sooner I get started, the better.’
*
Gerald Braithewaite ran a one-solicitor law practice in an old building on the main street of town. It consisted of two rooms. One was his private office and the other, which faced onto the street, was a general office occupied by two clerks. Both rose to their feet as Emma entered. The younger of the two knocked on Braithewaite’s door and announced her arrival.
Braithewaite was a short rotund man in his sixties. He had grey hair, clear blue eyes and a friendly face. He rose, walked quickly around his desk and took both Emma’s hands in his.
‘My dear, I was so sorry to hear about your father,’ he said with sincerity as he showed Emma to a chair across the desk from his own. ‘Tell me, how is your mother?’
‘In a severe state of shock, I’m afraid, Mr Braithewaite.’
‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’ Braithewaite’s face showed his concern. ‘And your brothers?’
‘We’re all trying to cope as best we can.’
When Emma was seated, Braithewaite opened his office door and asked for tea and cakes to be brought in.
‘I must admit, it’s a surprise to see you so grown up, Emma. It’s been so long since I visited Yallambee. I don’t think I would have recognized you on the street.’
‘I’m afraid a lot of people did as we drove into town.’
Braithewaite sighed. ‘News travels fast in the bush, particularly bad news. I’m sure people don’t mean to stare.’
Emma took a deep breath. ‘Mr Braithewaite, you were one of my father’s few real friends. I know your son served with him in the Light Horse in Palestine, and like my three uncles, he never returned. Now we have lost everything, including father, I must know exactly how the family stands if I am to plan for the future. I know I can count on you to be perfectly frank with me. Just what can we salvage out of all this?’
There was a soft tap on the door and a clerk pushed a tea trolley into the office. When he withdrew, Braithewaite poured tea for Emma and himself.
‘I’m afraid it’s unlikely there will be anything left over when your father’s assets have been fully realized by the mortgagee, my dear. The accrued interest on the various loans is really quite enormous. In fact, it’s quite likely VMP won’t recover the full amount owing to them.’
Emma was stunned. ‘But Yallambee is worth a fortune! Father couldn’t possibly have owed that much money.’
‘I’m afraid he did Emma. It’s been building up ever since the war.’ Braithewaite took a sip of tea. ‘Your grandfather couldn’t run Yallambee alone. It was a mistake to allow all four boys to join the Light Horse. Men had to be hired to take their places. That’s when the borrowing started. It continued when your father came home alone. Your mother did what she could. She worked her fingers to the bone. There wasn’t a job she couldn’t do, from keeping the station accounts to riding days on end on a cattle muster. That’s what led to the fall from her horse and obliged you to leave school to look after her.’
‘It was no sacrifice, Mr Braithewaite,’ Emma said quickly. ‘And Father tried everything he could to get mother walking again.’
‘I know, my dear. But all the expensive medical specialists called in over the years only added to the debt against Yallambee. Then the Depression came. It was the last straw. For many families on the land, times are just as tough as they are for the thousands of destitute people in the cities. The bush is hurting.’ Braithewaite shook his head. ‘I’m afraid your father was just one of many financially troubled landowners. In my opinion, your eviction by VMP was meant to send a clear signal to the man on the land of the dire consequences of defaulting on their loans.’
‘What happens next?’ Emma asked. ‘All we have in the world is about thirty pounds in cash and we’re overdrawn at the bank. What more can they do to us, Mr Braithewaite?’
‘They’ll move quickly to sell Yallambee and all chattels over which they have a charge. Under the terms of the mortgage, that means everything except basic personal effects. The vultures will gather soon to attend the sale. Those with cash in these troubled times will be looking to buy whatever they can at a fraction of its real value.’
‘What about the horses?’
‘They’ll sell them to the highest bidder, like everything else.’
‘But they’re mainly just old walers raised for service with the Light Horse years ago. Father said he owed them a final resti
ng place. Now, I suppose they’ll go to the glue factory.’
Braithewaite drained his tea cup. ‘I’m sure they will, Emma. But at the moment, I’m more concerned about what is going to happen to you and the family. There’s no money for the boys to return to boarding school and no money for the proper care of your mother.’ The old lawyer sighed. ‘Look, over the next few days I’ll make inquiries into some of the relief organizations which may be able to help. I just wish I’d been able to do more to help your father save Yallambee. I must say toward the end, when the writing was on the wall, I thought your Uncle Patrick would have come through and helped him.’
Emma flinched. ‘Father wouldn’t have gone cap in hand to Patrick Coltrane if he had been the last man on the face of this earth, Mr Braithewaite.’
Braithewaite shrugged.
‘Did Uncle Patrick know Father was in trouble?’
‘I’m afraid everyone did. It’s hard to hide that sort of thing.’
Braithewaite stared into his teacup, avoiding Emma eyes.
‘My God, Father didn’t approach him, did he?’
‘Yes, he did, Emma. He told me it was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life.’
‘And Uncle Patrick turned him down?’
‘I’m afraid so, Emma. I’m afraid so.’
*
At mid-afternoon, after a short funeral service, a small crowd gathered in the Augathella cemetery to witness Jack McKenna's body laid to rest. Emma recognized most of the mourners. Some were neighbors from homesteads around Yallambee. Circumstances made them more acquaintances than friends, a legacy of the huge distances that separated people and properties in the vastness of the Queensland outback. Others were local shopkeepers, tradesmen and suppliers who had dealt with her father over the years.
The Light Horseman's Daughter Page 2