The Light Horseman's Daughter
Page 9
*
Emma’s train arrived in Charleville late in the afternoon after stopping at every small whistle stop along the line. At the station, Emma noticed several uniformed policemen on the platform. For a moment her heart raced as memories of the last day at Yallambee filled her mind. Then she saw Gerald Braithwaite was there to meet her as he had promised. He stood talking with an older policemen who seemed to be in charge.
When Emma stepped onto the platform, Braithewaite hurried over to her. ‘Did everything go all right, Emma?’ he asked. ‘Did the boys get settled in?’
‘Yes. Hope Farm looks like a very nice place. I’m sure the twins will be happy there. The Brothers of the Apostles seem to be very dedicated.’
Braithewaite took her bag and they walked toward the gate at the end of the platform. As they neared the guard’s van at the end of the train, the door opened and the young man in the threadbare suit stepped out. Immediately he was surrounded by policemen, and two of the biggest grabbed him and held him tightly by the arms. Emma and Braithewaite were no more than ten feet away. Just for a moment the young man’s eyes held Emma’s. He gave her the same self-conscious smile he had given her on the train. Then the two policemen pushed him toward a waiting car. As they all walked away, Emma noticed the young man walked with a limp.
Safely, in the car, Braithewaite said. ‘I talked to the police sergeant while we were waiting for the train. It seems that man was Bill Travis. You may have of heard of him. He’s a well- known communist from Sydney. They tried to detain him in Brisbane but he got away.’
‘A communist?’ Emma looked surprised. ‘He looked like any other young man down on his luck to me, nothing at all like the monsters that the newspapers always make out communists to be. So what will happen now they’ve caught him?’
‘Oh, I suppose they’ll question him here in Charleville, then send him back to New South Wales.’ For a while they drove on in silence, then Braithewaite said, ‘And speaking of New South Wales, I’ve looked into the train schedules to Armidale. What with connection delays and the train changes because of the different interstate rail systems, travelling that distance with an invalid seems all but impossible. I must insist I drive you and your mother down there.’
‘But you can’t,’ Emma protested. ‘It’s hundreds of miles. And besides, you’ve done so much for us already. We’ll manage somehow on the train’
‘I’ve also spoken with the doctor, Emma,’ Braithewaite said firmly. ‘He says he simply won’t allow it. He says if your mother has to travel, it must be by private motorcar, otherwise she is to remain at Essex Downs.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
When Gordon Braithewaite arrived at Essex Downs to take Kathleen and Emma to Armidale, Patrick and Elliot Coltrane were nowhere to be seen. Laura tried to apologize, saying they had ridden off at dawn to join a cattle muster but her eyes couldn’t conceal the lie. Emma hugged Laura and thanked her. A moment later the car pulled away.
They arrived in Armidale on the New England plateau late the next day after staying overnight at a country hotel. Armidale, situated just east of the Great Dividing Range, was smaller than Emma had expected. But as they drove through the streets, she sensed an air of quality and permanence not often found in outback settlements.
The Mary Wells Home was a large two-story brick building. A sign at the entrance read:
WELCOME TO CRESTVIEW
The property was surrounded by well-kept lawns and flower gardens. When the car pulled up outside the main entrance, the travelers were greeted by a softly spoken, grey-haired woman who introduced herself as Miss Erin Potts, the housemother at Crestview. Kathleen was exhausted after the long journey. Emma and Braithwaite quickly transferred her into her wheelchair and took her inside.
‘We are so pleased to have your mother here with us, Miss McKenna,’ Miss Potts said as everyone got acquainted over tea and scones in a bright airy parlor. ‘We have received her full medical reports from Augathella and of course, we are aware of the support the Society has received in the past from the McKenna family. You can be assured your mother will receive the very best of care here.’
‘I’m so grateful,’ Emma said. She sat on a divan with Kathleen’s wheelchair beside her. ‘And I intend to find work just as soon as I can so I can help with the cost of her care.’
‘Any kind of paid work is difficult to come by these days, my dear,’ Miss Potts said. ‘But if you do get a job, any financial contribution would certainly be appreciated. Crestview operates almost entirely on charitable donations and the selfless work of volunteers. Somehow we are managing to meet our financial commitments, but I don’t know for how long we can continue to do so. This awful depression has severely curtailed our usual donations.’
‘Well…’ Braithewaite downed the last of his tea and stood up. ‘I really must be going.’
‘You’re not staying the night in Armidale?’ Erin Potts asked.
‘Oh, no.’ Braithewaite waved a hand. ‘I’d best make a start towards Queensland, unless Emma would like me to stay until she finds accommodation.’
‘Don’t worry about Miss McKenna,’ Miss Potts said quickly. ‘She can stay with us here at Crestview tonight and see her mother settled in.’
‘I’ll say goodbye then.’ Braithwaite turned to leave.
Emma rose quickly and went to him. She took his hands in hers.
‘How can I ever thank you, Mr Braithewaite? You have been so kind to us. I just don’t know how we could have managed without you.’ Emma leaned forward and kissed him firmly on the cheek.
Braithewaite was clearly moved. ‘It was the least I could do, Emma. I only wish I could have done more.’ He smiled a tight smile and walked toward the door.
‘Thank you so much, Gordon.’
Braithewaite stopped in his tracks.
The voice behind him was Kathleen’s.
Everyone was taken totally by surprise. Braithewaite spun round. All eyes were on the wheelchair.
Kathleen was smiling. ‘Thank you so much, Gordon,’ she said again.
*
Stephen Fairchild felt exhilarated. It was a fine clear April morning. The engine of his yellow Curtis biplane throbbed evenly, never missing a beat. Six thousand feet below him, the orderly agricultural patchwork of the Darling Downs landscape lay drenched in sunlight. He grinned and savored the moment. His mission to Queensland was over and he was doing what he enjoyed most—flying. And best of all he was on his way home.
The last few weeks had been tiring. His father had suggested he take a few days off after his extended trip to New England and Queensland. Stephen had jumped at the chance and had planned to spend the time playing tennis and sailing with his fiancé Eleanor. He’d already phoned her and told her to expect him. But suddenly that morning, he surprised himself by impulsively deciding to fly west from Brisbane instead of directly south.
For some reason he knew he just had to see the sad, dark-haired girl again, the girl who had been constantly on his mind since he had left Essex Downs, even though she warned him she might not be there if he were to visit again.
Stephen routinely glanced at the instrument panel. He would need to refuel somewhere before landing at Essex Downs and he had been told aviation fuel was available at a small airstrip at Roma. He eased the stick forward and prepared to land.
*
For the first time since leaving Yallambee, Emma awoke with hope in her heart. She had spent the night in a cot, wheeled in beside Kathleen’s bed, in a comfortable ground floor room her mother was to share with two other residents. After hearing her mother speak again, Emma had wanted to talk more, but after Braithewaite left, the Crestview staff had put Kathleen to bed where she had immediately fallen into a deep sleep.
Emma got up very quietly, careful not to disturb her mother or the other women in the room. After washing and dressing, she ate a light breakfast in a small room off the kitchen. Just as she was finishing Miss Potts came in and handed Emma a sheet of paper
Emma enjoyed the short walk into the centre of town. It was a lovely morning, with a touch of autumn in the air. Her mother’s positive signs of recovery had lifted her spirits and she felt optimistic. Her confidence was boosted by a smart, two-piece cotton suit she had made herself at Yallambee from a pattern cut out of a ladies’ magazine.
Armidale had been established as a town since 1849. It had grown into a thriving commercial centre over the years. Its clean and tidy streets were lined with well stocked shops and farm supply houses. It was still early and most of the traders were only just opening their premises. Only the odd shop here and there was boarded up and abandoned, stark reminders that even outback New South Wales was not untouched by the Depression.
Emma called in at the first shop on Miss Potts’ list. The man behind the counter said there was no work. By mid-morning Emma’s optimism began to fade, by midday it had all but evaporated. When she’d called on every name on her list she just went from door to door canvassing the hotels, cafes and milk bars. No one had work of any kind available.
Around two o’clock in the afternoon Emma decided to call it a day. She still had to arrange lodgings somewhere and to pick up her bags from Crestview. She took out Miss Potts’ list from her pocket again and stopped a passer-by for directions to the first of the two boarding houses marked on it.
The sign in the window read:
MRS NADIN’S RESIDENCE FOR YOUNG LADIES
The old white house was large and had a neat and tidy garden. After a long day of trudging around the town Emma’s feet felt like lead when she stepped up onto the veranda. She rang the door bell. An elderly overweight woman with straight grey hair drawn back into a tight bun opened the door
‘Can I help you, miss? I’m Mrs Nadin.’
‘I’m Emma McKenna. Miss Potts at Crestview said I might be able to get lodgings here.’
‘I do have a room available.’ the big woman said. ‘Please come in.’
Emma followed Mrs Nadin through the house. It was spotlessly clean with old but comfortable furnishings. The vacant room was upstairs, a small but pleasant bed-sitting room overlooking the front garden. A cool breeze wafted through the open window. Emma knew it would suit her well.
‘It’s fifteen shillings a week including full board if you’re interested, Miss McKenna.’ The landlady said. ‘With two weeks payable in advance.’
‘Very well, Mrs Nadin. I’d like to take it.’
‘I always require references before my young ladies move in.’
‘I’m from Queensland,’ Emma said. ‘I have no references with me.’
Mrs Nadin pondered the situation for a few moments then said ‘I suppose if Miss Potts sent you, that’s recommendation enough.’
Emma smiled. ‘Then it’s settled? I’ll go and get my luggage from Crestview.’
Mrs Nadin wasn’t yet ready to commit herself. ‘How long do you expect to be in Armidale?’ she asked.
‘Indefinitely. My mother is an invalid. I expect she will be at Crestview a long time.’
‘And your father?’
‘My father died a few months ago.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Mrs Nadin said. ‘It must be difficult for you. Crestview is only for those needing charity. Do you have work here in Armidale?’
‘Not yet, but I am looking.’
‘With no job, how will you pay for board and room?’
‘I have money enough for now. I can pay a month in advance if you wish.’
‘What kind of work are you trained for?‘ Mrs Nadin asked
‘I’m quite willing to do anything. But I’m best at dressmaking. I made this.’ Emma ran her hands over her suit.
Mrs Nadin moved a step closer. ‘I must say it looks quite smart and well made. A friend in my prayer group has a small business which makes school uniforms. As you would know, the bishops of both the Anglican and Roman Catholic churches established dioceses in Armidale long ago and there are several fine boarding schools here. It’s possible she may be able to help you. Would you like me to enquire?’
‘Oh, please.’ Emma said thankfully
‘Very well, Miss McKenna, you may have the room and I will speak to Mrs Shapiro. Now, the other girls staying here are trainees at the Armidale teachers’ college. I have a very strict rule about young men. None are allowed inside the house. Any callers must remain outside on the veranda, and all my girls must be in the house by nine at night, ten on Saturdays.’
*
‘Mrs Nadin can be quite short with people at times,’ Miss Potts said when Emma returned to Crestview to get her things. ‘And she’s a little rough around the edges, but beneath it all she’s a good Christian woman. I’m sure you will be happy there my dear.’
Before returning to the boarding house, Emma spent some time with Kathleen. She looked cheerful and well rested. Emma pushed her wheelchair out into the flower garden at the front of the building and sat down on a wooden garden bench. She took her mother’s hand in hers.
‘You really gave us all a start yesterday, Mother, suddenly talking right out of the blue. Isn’t it strange your mind just suddenly opened up like that?’
‘It didn’t happen so suddenly, my darling,’ Kathleen said quietly. ‘I’ve been getting better all the time. But as long as we were all at Essex Downs, I preferred to live in my own silent world. I wanted to shut that awful place out of my mind. I no longer wanted to live in a world without your father and the happiness we all shared at Yallambee’.
Emma squeezed her mother’s hand. ‘What was it that turned Uncle Patrick against us?’
‘I don’t know. Your father never told me and I never pressed him. It was something that started decades ago so it didn’t matter to me. My life only really started when I married your father. I had no roots before that. I never knew who I was. But when I married Jack McKenna, his family became my family. Then we had our own family and Yallambee. It was like a dream. When it disappeared, I died inside. But yesterday, when we reached New England, I felt a sense of belonging again. This is where the McKennas came from in the old days.’ Kathleen smiled. ‘Perhaps we can make a new start here.’
‘I hope so, Mother,’ Emma said. ‘I really hope so,’
*
Mrs Nadin served the evening meal at 6.30 pm. Emma enjoyed the first home-cooked meal in a long time which she hadn’t had to prepare herself, while she got acquainted with the other boarders.
After the meal, the girls went to their rooms to study and Emma went upstairs and unpacked. Later, she wrote a quick line to the twins at Hope Farm, giving them her address and also the wonderful news about their mother. When she had finished it was still early but she went straight to bed and fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
Early the next morning Emma went out looking for work again. By midday she was exhausted and returned to the boarding house to rest her feet. With the other girls eating lunch at the teachers’ college, Emma found Mrs Nadin alone in the kitchen. Emma told her of the fruitless morning.
‘I have some good news,’ Mrs Nadin said, as she set the kitchen table for two. ‘I spoke with Mrs Shapiro. You are to go and see her this afternoon. She says she has several new orders and could use a good seamstress, but first you’ll have to show her what you can do.’
‘Emma’s face lit up. ‘Thank you so much, Mrs Nadin.’
‘Thank me when you’ve got the job, young lady,’ the landlady cautioned. ‘Now sit down and eat your lunch.’
*
Mrs Shapiro’s clothing business was housed in an area specially laid out for the purpose, beneath her large home a few minutes walk from Mrs Nadin’s boarding house. Half a dozen seamstresses
sat at sewing machines set up at individual tables around a central large cutting table.
The work area was surrounded by rows of shelving with bolts of cloth and countless boxes of buttons, buckles, ribbons, threads, and fasteners of every description. And there were rows of finished garments hanging on wooden racks ready to be dispatched. None of the women at the tables looked up from their work when Mrs Shapiro, a slim middle-aged woman, showed Emma around.
‘Mrs Nadin told me she’s seen some of your work, Emma,’ Mrs Shapiro said. ‘She said it looked very good. But you will appreciate that in a commercial enterprise, your work must not only be very good but you must also be able to perform it quickly and efficiently. If I’m to employ you, you must be able to demonstrate that you can do that.’
Mrs Shapiro tapped one of the seamstresses on the shoulder and asked her to get up and let Emma take her place at her sewing machine for a few minutes. Emma was glad to see the machine was a standard black and gold Singer, similar to the model she had used at Yallambee. Emma continued on with the work of sewing a simple schoolgirl’s frock quickly and easily. When the garment was finished, Mrs Shapiro moved Emma to another table where boys’ shirts were being made. Emma worked the machine for several minutes and again faultlessly demonstrated her skills.
When Emma stood up, Mrs Shapiro took Emma to one side. ‘I’m willing to take you on a trial basis, Emma,’ she said. ‘I expect hard work, but I am a fair Christian woman. I pay on a piecework basis. That is so much per garment made, depending on the particular order we are filling. The harder you work the more you are paid. You can start in a few days, just as soon as a new material shipment arrives from Sydney.’