Elliot’s grin turned into a look of amazement. He had never seen his mother so angry before.
But the outburst was short-lived. ‘You could have helped him, Patrick,’ Laura said quietly. Her eyes moistened. ‘You could have done it for me. Yallambee was my home once, you know.’
‘You know damn well why I turned him down,’ Coltrane snapped.
‘Just once,’ Laura said bitterly, ‘you could have put your hatred for my family aside.’
Coltrane was unmoved. ‘I did once, Laura. And if you remember, it was because of you. When we were married, I held out the olive branch to the McKennas. I was prepared to let bygones be bygones, to bury the differences of the past. But how did Jack McKenna thank me for it? I’ll tell you how…’
‘No, Patrick,’ Laura broke in quickly, ‘please, not in front of Elliot.’
‘Why not, he’s all grown up now. Besides, he has a right to know.’
Elliot looked mystified. ‘Know what?’ he asked. His eyes darted from to his father to his mother and back again. ‘What did Uncle Jack do?’
Coltrane looked Elliot directly in the eye and said disdainfully, ‘He married a nigger.’
There was a long silence while Elliot took in what his father said.
‘You mean Aunt Kathleen’s a bloody gin ?’ Stunned, Elliot turned to his mother. ‘How can that be?’
Laura sank back down in her chair, her eyes lowered, saying nothing..
Coltrane said, ‘When Jack Mckenna got married, the only thing anyone knew about Kathleen was that she was an orphan from Brisbane. She told us she was raised at the Mary Wells Home. My father knew they used to send a lot of half-caste babies there in the old days. He made inquiries through people he knew in the government. Sure enough, it turned out she was one of them.’ Coltrane shook his head. ‘God Almighty, she could even have been born here on Essex Downs.’
Elliot’s eyed widened After a moment he said. ‘Then that means Emma and the twins…’
‘Yes.’ Coltrane said bitterly. ‘They’re all niggers.’
Elliot’s face turned pale. ‘Who else knows?’
‘No one outside this room, now.’ Coltrane replied. ‘Those that did before are all dead. Even Kathleen herself doesn’t know. The Mary Wells Society made sure orphans were never told where they came from, especially the half-castes.’
‘But Uncle Jack must have known.’
‘Of course he did, the bastard. It was the McKennas and the do-gooders who had the niggers sent to the Mary Wells Home in the first place, and they all donated time and money to the cause for years and years afterwards. That’s when he met her.’
Elliot turned to Laura. ‘Did you know, Mother?’
‘No. I was married to your father for years before your Uncle Jack and Aunt Kathleen were married.’ Laura said. She rose from the table and walked to the door. Before she slammed it hard behind her she said: ‘And I’m sorry my brother has made you and your father feel so ashamed. I only hope you both feel better now that you’ve managed to take his family home and drive his destitute children and crippled widow away from our door.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The train to Charleville didn’t leave Toowoomba until 7.30 am, but Emma had already vacated her room at The Sundowner and was pacing up and down the platform at seven o’clock. And for the first time since leaving Yallambee, she found herself entirely alone with her thoughts, temporarily free of the everyday responsibilities of the twins and her mother.
Her family’s well-being weighed heavily on her mind. It was hard to believe that in just two months their lives had been turned completely upside down. But she knew things could be worse. At least the boys were fortunate to be at Hope Farm, and it was a blessing that Kathleen would soon be settled with the Mary Wells Society in Armidale.
Her thoughts turned to her father and inexplicably he seemed suddenly very close to her. Then the moment was gone as a shrill whistle pierced the silence of the morning and a steam engine hissed past, bringing her train into the station.
Emma entered the first empty compartment. While lifting her bag onto the luggage rack above the seat she noticed a discarded newspaper. She took it down and settled into a seat beside the window. After a few moments, the compartment door opened and a woman with two very young girls came in and sat down in the seat opposite her.
When the train pulled out of the station and gathered speed, the clickety-clack rhythm of the carriage wheels on the track delighted the youngsters, who stood with their faces pressed against the window watching the outskirts of town give way to farmland. When the girls settled down again beside their mother, the compartment door opened again and a young man entered. He swung an old suitcase up onto the luggage rack, then sat down just inside the door and began to read a magazine.
Emma took him to be in his mid-twenties. He had brown hair, dark eyes and a sanguine manner that reminded her of a much older Bruce. But by the look of his pale face and the soft hands holding the magazine, Emma could see he wasn’t from the bush. Although clean and tidy, his clothes were threadbare, and his shoes were down-at-heel.
Suddenly the young man looked up from his magazine and caught Emma appraising him. He smiled shyly. Emma quickly looked away and unfolded the newspaper in her lap.
The headlines told her that Premier Lang had ordered the New South Wales treasury not to pay interest payments that were falling due to British bondholders. Emma turned the page. A smaller headline announced the merger of General Motors of the U.S.A. and Holden’s Motor Body Builders to form General Motors-Holden’s Ltd. She thumbed through the remaining pages with little interest. But an item on the editorial page immediately caught her eye.
BRISBANE WELCOMES NEW GUARD EMISSARY
Beneath the headline was a photograph of a group of prominent Queensland politicians and businessmen standing beside a small aircraft at Eagle Farm Airport. At the centre of the group, wearing flying leathers and smiling broadly, was Stephen Fairchild. The brief article that followed reported widespread acceptance of the New Guard Movement and a flood of financial support for it.
‘Have your tickets ready, please.’
Emma and the mother of the girls produced tickets. The young man in the threadbare suit moved his magazine closer to his face.
There were two grey-haired ticket inspectors. One entered the compartment and punched the tickets while the other remained outside in the corridor. The young man with the magazine continued reading.
‘All right, son,’ the inspector tapped the magazine. ‘Your ticket, please.’
The young man began to search his pockets. ‘It must be here somewhere, I��’
‘Come on, son.’ The inspector took the passenger’s arm. ‘We know you don’t have a ticket. We saw you slip onto the train in Toowoomba. Hid in the lavatory until we got under way, did you?’
The young man gave up the pretence of looking for a ticket. He glanced at Emma and smiled self-consciously. Then he reached up for his suitcase and stepped outside where the inspector in the corridor none to gently bundled him away.
‘Sorry, ladies,’ the first inspector said. ‘It’s the times you know. Too many young unemployed chaps roaming around the countryside looking for work and handouts. It’s a real problem for the railways. They usually jump the goods trains. But now and again we get someone like this bloke who thinks he’s too good to join the swaggies in a goods wagon.’
‘What happens to him now?’ Emma asked.
The inspector shrugged. ‘Oh, we could charge him under the Vagrancy Act. It carries a fine of twenty pounds plus the payment of the proper fare. But you can’t get blood from a stone. We’ll telegraph Brisbane from the next station and ask what they want us to do. When they decide they’ll wire ahead before we get to Charleville.’
The inspector closed the compartment door behind him. Emma stared out the window at the passing countryside. She thought of the hopelessness facing the young man and the thousands like him wandering the country looking for work
that didn’t exist and with nowhere to call home. Suddenly her family’s situation didn’t seem quite so bad. At least Bruce and Jack had a roof over their heads and good wholesome food to eat.
*
Bruce and Jack had seen Emma leave Hope Farm on the milk wagon. When Brother Lucas turned them over to Brother Josef, the farm manager had put them to work with Strickland mucking out the milking shed.
The sight of Emma leaving had brought a flood of new tears to Jack, while Bruce showed no outward sign of the anguish he felt at the breaking up of the family. The brothers’ emotions were not shared by Strickland. When he saw them stop work while when the milk wagon passed, he quickly closed the milking-shed door.
‘There’ll be no dinner for you or me until all the shit is out on the dung heap and fresh straw is in the gutters ready for the afternoon milking,’ Strickland said sharply. ‘That’s the rules of the morning muck-out.’ The big youth squatted down on a milking stool and grinned, enjoying his authority. He made a fist of his right hand and shook it menacingly. ‘And guess what you get if you make me miss my dinner?’
Neither Bruce nor Jack knew if Strickland was joking or not. But neither wanted to find out, so they quickly got back to work and didn’t let up until the job was finished. When the boys walked up to the residence for dinner, Strickland explained some more of the rules at Hope Farm.
‘This morning you entered the residence through the front door. You will never do that again. Brother Lucas only lets the boys do that once, to make a good impression on whoever brings them here. From now on you’ll go in through the back door and with your boots off. And at the end of the day you’ll shower in the ablutions shed outside the back door and change into clean clothes. At six o’clock Brother Lucas has a fifteen-minute service in the chapel. If you’re late, you get no tea. After tea, you can use the common room off the main hall until seven-thirty to read, play drafts or chess, or just sit around and talk. After that it’s up to bed with all oil lamps to be out by eight o’clock.’
When the three reached the ablution shed there were lots of boys milling around. Beside the shed was a long row of outdoor lavatories. ‘Those are the only dunnies you are allowed to use,’ Strickland said. ‘There are inside lavatories but they’re only for the brothers. Don’t even think of using them, even at night, when you’re really bursting to go.’
The boys washed up at deep galvanized sinks using coarse carbolic soap. Just as they finished, a loud bell sounded and a swarm of barefoot youngsters surged into the residence. The twins followed the flow down a corridor into a large dining room.
About sixty boys took their places at a number of linoleum-covered tables. On each table there was a pitcher of water and a cluster of white enamel mugs. At one end of the dining room was a long serving table. It was covered with pots of hot food, baskets of bread rolls and stacks of plates and cutlery boxes. Behind the table, several boys rostered on kitchen duty were ready to serve the food. At the other end of the room, on a slightly elevated section of floor, was a head-table where a handful of brothers were seated.
Everyone remained standing until Brother Lucas had said grace, then each boy picked up a plate and utensils, and formed a long line at the serving table. Two more boys on kitchen duty waited on the brothers at the head table.
The meal consisted of a single ladle of meat and vegetable stew and a bread roll washed down with a mug of warmish water. When the boys were finishing their meal, Brother Lucas rose to his feet and rapped his knuckles on the table. The dining room fell silent immediately.
‘Today we welcome two new boys to Hope Farm.’ Brother Lucas announced. He looked across to where Bruce and Jack were seated and wagged the palms of his outstretched hands upwards. ‘Boys… stand up, please.’
Bruce and Jack shyly rose to their feet, conscious of every eye in the room on them.
‘These young gentlemen are the McKenna brothers.’ Brother Lucas said. ‘Now, it’s not often we get two lads here by the same name. In the past, it has never presented a problem to our strict rule of using surnames only. We just added Christian name initials on duty rosters. However, this is the first time we have had identical twins at Hope Farm. So I must think of some way to tell them apart. In the meantime we’ll just muddle along as best we can.’ Brother Lucas smiled a tight smile and waved a dismissive hand. ‘That will be all.’
After the meal, the boys rostered on work duty returned to the fields and once again Brother Josef left the twins under Strickland’s supervision, sending them out to a ploughed field with forks to spread manure hauled out by wagon from the farmyard.
‘This job is always given to the new boys,’ Strickland said. ‘It’s how the pecking order works at Hope Farm.’ He grinned. ‘If you’re lucky you’ll be at it for a long time.’
The work was hard and tiring. Strickland seemed to enjoy the twins’ discomfort and, relishing his position of supervisor, went to great pains to demonstrate exactly how the mundane task was to be performed. Then he lay down in the shade of a clump of gums at the edge of the field and watched. As the afternoon wore on Bruce and Jack became exhausted from the heat and unfamiliar exertion. Blisters quickly developed on their hands. Late in the afternoon they were relieved when a messenger came from the residence and told Strickland they were to report to Brother Lucas immediately.
When the boys entered Brother Lucas’ office, he rose from his desk and paced the floor behind it, the palms of his hands on his cassocked hips. After a few moments he stopped pacing and turned to face them with his arms folded tightly in front of him.
‘Well, I take it Strickland has familiarized you with the house rules and that you are getting the lay of the land?’
‘Yes,’ Bruce said quietly. Jack just nodded his head.
‘Good. Now, there are just a few more things. Your uniforms have been marked with your names, your old school uniforms have been disposed of, and your dormitory beds have been made up. In future you will make them yourselves each morning and change your sheets with clean ones provided each week. Your clean clothes and also any personal odds and ends you may have are to be kept in cupboards beside your beds.’ Brother Lucas resumed pacing the floor. ‘Now, as Brother Benjamin said this morning, no one is permitted to retain any valuables which are not conducive to equality prevailing among all the boys here. I know your sister said you had nothing like that but if you can think of anything, please tell me now.’
‘We have ten shillings wrapped up in a handkerchief,’ Jack volunteered.
Brother Lucas looked surprised. ‘A very large sum for twelve-year-old boys. You will have to turn it over to me of course.’ After Jack’s admission, Brother Lucas turned his eyes to Bruce. ‘Now is that between you, or do you both have ten shillings?’
Bruce didn’t answer Brother Lucas immediately. He thought of Emma’s instructions telling him to only part with the money in an emergency and said, ‘No, Brother Lucas, we have just ten shillings between us.’ Not wanting to elaborate on the lie, he added quickly, ‘We’ll go and fetch it if you like.’
Brother Lucas’ face began to shake with rage. ‘That will not be necessary young man.’ Suddenly he crossed the room and grabbing Bruce’s shirt collar, read the name tag sewn into it. ‘No, Bruce McKenna, that will not be necessary.’ Brother Lucas returned to his desk and opened a drawer and took out the two knotted handkerchiefs Emma had given the boys on the bus. ‘As you can see, I already have not one, but two handkerchiefs containing ten shillings. You see, I make a point of checking all baggage that comes onto Hope Farm. Not only do I find some most unusual things, but the practice also allows me to sometimes learn a great deal of the character of some of our new arrivals.’
‘Jack McKenna, you may go to your dorm’. Brother Lucas strode to the door and opened it. ‘Your brother will be along shortly.’
Jack left the room with downcast eyes. Brother Lucas closed the door behind him, then walked over to a cupboard and took out a bamboo cane. He turned to Bruce. His thin ha
nds grasped each end of the cane and bowed it several times.
‘There are no secrets here, young man,’ Brother Lucas scolded. ‘Even your dirty underwear is washed by your peers. You must understand that Hope Farm can only succeed in an atmosphere of absolute trust and honesty. They are qualities you have not brought with you, so it seems I must instill them in you. Take down your shorts and underpants and touch your toes.’
Bruce’s eyes widened in fear but he made no move to comply.
‘Take down yours short and underpants and touch your toes.’
Bruce slowly lowered the garments to his ankles and touched his toes with his fingertips. He closed his eyes. The first vicious swing of the bamboo made him gasp. It stung his soft white buttocks and almost sent him toppling over on his head. As soon as he steadied himself the cane hissed through the air again. The excruciating pain again took away his breath and made his eyes smart. Brother Lucas swung the cane relentlessly, again and again and again. It was only when Bruce screamed out and broke into loud choking sobs that the onslaught ended.
At tea time, Bruce ate little. And what little he did eat, he ate standing up, unable to endure any weight on his swollen welted buttocks. But the worst degradation had come earlier, at the start of the meal, when Brother Lucas had called him up to the elevated head table and placed a red elastic armband around his right shirt sleeve and announced to all:
‘Now, boys, I mentioned to you all earlier today that I would find a way to differentiate between the McKenna twins. Well, this afternoon I found a way. I discovered that these brothers are in fact quite different. I can tell you now that Jack McKenna is a forthright and honest young man. However, I must tell you that his brother is not.’ Brother Lucas raised his arm and pointed an accusing finger at Bruce. ‘I must tell you that this boy, Bruce McKenna, is a liar. And so you may know him for what he is, he will wear this red armband until I am satisfied he has mended his ways. In the meantime, his punishment shall be silence. Until further notice, all boys are forbidden to speak to him for any reason whatsoever.’
The Light Horseman's Daughter Page 8