Silver pondered the proposal for a few moments. Then he shrugged and said, ‘I wouldn’t expect there would be a problem with that, providing you are able to come up with the asking price in cash. After all, the property is to be sold.’
‘I am prepared to pay the same price paid by my uncle when he bought it, approximately eleven thousand pounds, not a penny more.’
Silver laughed out loud. ‘ But Yallambee is worth a great deal more than that.’
‘Yes, and it always was. Patrick Coltrane was only able to buy it for a song because he was in collusion with VMP,’ Emma said quickly. ‘Any land agent will tell there has been no real appreciation in the value of rural property anywhere since 1928.’
Royston Silver stared hard at Emma from across the desk. His congenial charm had evaporated since he and Emma first sat down. Eventually he said, ‘You drive a hard bargain, young lady. As I said before, all I can do is convey all this to Mr Coltrane and see what he says.’
‘Very well.’ Emma rose to leave. ‘Should he accept, please have the annuity agreement and land transfer documents draw up without delay and sent to Matheson & Matheson, my solicitors in Brisbane. If we hear nothing within the week, my aunt and I will assume no agreement can be reached. And then of course, she will be under no obligation to support her husband in his campaign, or to refrain from airing her views publicly on the break-up of her marriage and the shabby way she has been treated by Senator Coltrane.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Three days after Emma’s return to Brisbane, John Matheson telephoned to say that solicitors for Senator Patrick Coltrane had hand-delivered an agreement to his office. He said the document was in respect to Mrs Coltrane and could be executed at her earliest convenience. Matheson also advised that transfer documents for the property known as Yallambee were being prepared and would be forwarded shortly, and that both matters were in accordance with the terms and conditions Emma had discussed with Mr Royston Silver in Roma.
Emma knew Patrick Coltrane would want speedy execution of the annuity agreement. But afraid he might procrastinate when it came to producing the land transfer documents, she asked Matheson to press for both matters to be settled at the same time. Matheson telephoned the next day to say he had arranged for both settlements to take place on the same day in just over two week’s time. He also reminded Emma he would need a bank draft made payable to Patrick Coltrane prior to settlement.
When Emma visited Bruce at Boggo Road the next day she gave him the good news. It seemed to lift his spirits considerably and she was tempted to tell him of her meeting with Brother Benjamin at Hope Farm, but she decided against it for fear of giving him false hopes of an early release.
Another week passed and Emma was beginning to give up hope of anything eventuating when John Matheson called in personally at the Bellevue to see her. Matheson told Emma the Crown Prosecutor’s office had telephoned to say that they were recommending the charges against Bruce be dropped for reasons which they were unable to disclose. Only formal acceptance of the recommendation by the Attorney General’s Department was required before Bruce would be unconditionally released. But he advised Emma against telling Bruce anything before the acceptance came through, in case something went wrong.
*
Patrick Coltrane stood beside a row of suitcases on his veranda looking out over Essex Downs. The morning sun was rising on a new chapter in his life and for a few moments he allowed himself to ponder the ending of the old, which had seen him uncharacteristically giving rather than taking.
Two days earlier he had registered his nomination for the Brisbane federal seat of Lilley with the Commonwealth Electoral Commission in Brisbane, thus relinquishing his treasured seat in the Australian Senate. And on the same day, since the new chapter in his life required him to maintain homes in both the seat of Lilley and in the Australian Capital Territory, he had signed over the title of Essex Downs to Elliot.
Traditionally, the Coltrane family home had always been willed from father to son. But no other Coltrane patriarch had ever departed Essex Downs without being taken away in the arms of the Lord. This time there was yet another exception to the rule when Coltrane instructed his solicitor to name Victoria Coltrane on the title deed in addition to Elliot.
Coltrane watched the smoke rising into the sky from the Aboriginal fires down by the creek and he wondered if his present marital situation had prompted Royston Silver to suggest, even insist, that Victoria’s name be included on the deed, to give his daughter the formal security of tenure he felt she deserved as Elliot’s wife and mother of his child.
For the tenth time in as many minutes Coltrane turned his eyes to the road leading onto the property. He was expecting Elliot, Victoria, and his grandson to arrive from Yallambee at any moment to take up residence at Essex Downs, but still he saw no sign of anyone approaching.
Victoria had warned Coltrane that as a new broom, she would sweep clean. She intended bringing her own well-trained white domestics from Yallambee with her. As the new mistress of Essex Downs she was not prepared to be saddled with old blacks like Mary, who were too old and set in their ways, or too resentful to accept change.
Across the yard, a foreman opened the door of a garage, backed Coltrane’s motorcar out into the yard and began loading the suitcases on the veranda into it. As soon as Elliot and his family arrived Coltrane planned to drive to Brisbane. What few furnishings he planned to take with him from Essex Downs would have to follow later on, after the purchase of his new home in the fashionable suburb of Hamilton had been completed.
In the meantime he would spend a couple of weeks as the guest of Royston Silver, staying at Silver’s Brisbane townhouse and where party organizers would put the finishing touches on his election campaign. Coltrane rubbed his hands together at the prospect of gliding to a resounding victory at the polls and triumphantly taking his place on the government front benches in Canberra.
The loud drone of an engine jolted Coltrane out of his euphoria. He looked up to see a stock truck approaching. When it came to a halt in the yard, the marking ROMA ABATTOIR was just visible beneath the grime on the door of the cab. Coltrane recognized the driver as Jacko the half-caste cattle haulier. Jacko glanced up at Coltrane for a second but quickly looked away. Typical shifty half-caste, Coltrane thought, never looks you right in the eye, always looks like he’s just stolen something or has got something to hide.
The foreman put the last case into the car, then climbed into the cab of the truck and drove off down toward the creek with Jacko. A moment later Coltrane heard more vehicles approaching. He looked up the road and saw Elliot’s motorcar, followed by farm vehicles loaded with furniture and other belongings.
No sooner had Elliot’s car stopped than Victoria stepped out and told the men in the vehicles behind to start unloading furniture. Acknowledging her father-in-law with just a nod of her head, she swept into the house with her homely domestics in tow to take possession of the homestead.
Elliot stepped up onto the veranda with his son Royston Elliot, who stood silently clutching his father’s leg and staring up at Coltrane.
‘How did you leave the old McKenna place, Elliot?’ Coltrane asked.
‘A damn sight better than I found it, Father. I hope you made her pay a big price for it.’
Coltrane ran a playful hand through his grandson’s thick dark hair. ‘Under the circumstances, I got the best price I could.’
Elliot shook his head. ‘I still can’t see how she could make that kind of money from dressmaking.’
‘Neither can I. There’s only one way I know for a woman to make that much money over a few short years in the city.’ Coltrane sneered. ‘And I don’t think I’ve got to spell it out for you, Elliot.’
Coltrane entered the house to gather up a few personal things and say goodbye to Victoria. When he came back outside Elliot and his grandson walked him to the car. As he was about to drive off, Jacko’s stock truck pulled back into the yard.
Penned up in the back were fifteen or more old Aboriginal men and women. They sat on dirty blankets spread over the truck’s flat deck and peered dolefully out through the slats of its wooden framework sides. Then Mary shuffled from her shack behind the house. She was clutching all her worldly possessions in an old, rolled-up blanket with the corners knotted to form a kind of carry-handle. She struggled with the bundle until Jacko hopped down from the cab, opened the tailgate and bodily lifted Mary and her blanket up into the truck.
Elliot watched the truck pull away then turned with raised eyebrows to his father.
‘When Victoria said the house-gins had to go,’ Coltrane said, ‘I thought it was as good a time as any to finally get rid of the mob of blacks down by the creek.’
*
Emma returned to the Bellevue Hotel from visiting Bruce at Boggo Road, deeply saddened by his progressive withdrawal. Emma was finding it more and more difficult on each visit not to lift Bruce’s spirits by telling him what was going on, even if it meant his hopes might be shattered later on. Almost three weeks had passed since John Matheson had received word of the recommendation of Bruce’s release but still there had been no official word from the Attorney General’s office.
Upstairs the telephone on the writing table was ringing. Emma rushed to it, praying it was John Matheson with some news about Bruce’s release. But the hotel operator was on the line with a trunk call from a Mr Rankin in Sydney.
Dan Rankin told Emma his office had received a formal offer from David Jones for Sydney Styles, subject only to the normal conditions associated with a commercial acquisition. He said if Emma was happy with it he would draw the necessary documents and negotiate a settlement date. Emma didn’t have to think twice. The offer was so close to the asking price she told him to proceed with the sale immediately.
*
Both Laura’s agreement and the sale of Yallambee were to be settled at the chambers of Patrick Coltrane’s solicitors on Queen Street. When Emma, Laura and John Matheson were shown into the firm’s conference room by a senior partner, Emma was surprised to see that in addition to Patrick Coltrane, Royston Silver was also in attendance.
‘As Mr Silver brokered these two transactions and will be a witness to Mrs Coltrane’s support settlement agreement,’ Coltrane’s lawyer said, ‘I’m sure you won’t object to his presence here today?’
Coltrane and Silver rose from their seats at a long polished table and remained standing until the ladies were seated on the other side. While the solicitors perused the documents Laura and Coltrane entered into some forced but courteous conversation.
‘How is everything at Essex Downs?’ Laura asked.
‘Very good,’ Coltrane said stiffly. ‘I’ve signed the place over to Elliot and Victoria. And I was there recently to see them all move in. My word, little Royston Elliot is getting to be quite a little man now.’
‘And Mary, she’s well I take it? ‘
Some of Coltrane’s affability seemed to diminish. ‘Mary’s no longer at Essex Downs.’ he said curtly. ‘Victoria brought her own domestics.’
‘Then where is she?’
‘She’s gone to the Woorabinda Mission, south of Rockhampton.’
‘You sent her to Woorabinda?’ The color drained from Laura’s face. ‘But that’s an awful place. There’s no one there but helpless old derelicts That’s where they send useless old blacks to die. Mary deserves better than that.’
‘It was the only mission that would take them,’ Coltrane said with no empathy. ‘She’ll be all right. The others will take care of her. We sent them all. It was the best thing.’
Laura’s lips trembled in dismay. ‘You sent them all?’
‘Yes. There isn’t a nigger left on Essex Downs.’
Stunned, Laura leaned back in her chair and stared blankly into the grain of the tabletop.
Coltrane’s solicitor tactfully seized the lull in the potentially unpleasant conversation. ‘Well, shall we proceed? Now, Mrs Coltrane, with respect to the support agreement, I must ask you before those present today, if you have read and understood all the terms and conditions in the document, particularly the clauses which provide for the termination of support, and the recovery of any support already paid in advance, if at any time, by word or by deed, you prejudice my client’s political career in any way?’
Laura looked from the tabletop to John Matheson. The solicitor nodded his head.
‘Yes, I have read the conditions and understand them,’ she said softly.
‘Very well. Now, Mr Matheson, if you would have your client sign the document…’ The solicitor paused while he produced a bank draft from among the papers in front of him. ‘I’ll give you the first year's support payment.’
When the agreement had been dispensed with, the same procedure was followed with the execution of the Yallambee land transfer documents and a bank draft was exchanged for them in settlement.
Everyone rose from the table as soon as the transactions were complete and Emma, Laura and Matheson prepared to leave the room. Laura was still plainly upset. When she reached the door of the conference room she turned around.
‘Patrick, there’s something I should tell you,’ she said in a firm even voice. ‘And I think Mr Silver here will be interested too. Last year, I told Emma and her family about their Aboriginal blood.’
Emma, like everyone else was taken completely by surprise. She watched as Coltrane and Silver exchanged apprehensive glances and she waited for what she knew was to follow.
‘But to be absolutely certain,’ Laura continued, ‘Emma went to the Mary Wells Society headquarters when she was in London recently to see if there were records to prove it. There were. But that wasn’t all. They had records of all the near-white half-caste babies the Aboriginal Protector took from Essex Downs in the old days. It turned out there were more babies than the Mary Wells home in Brisbane could take in. So they asked the churches to try and arrange for the overflow to be taken in by white families who would raise the babies as their own flesh and blood. The hardest ones to find homes for were the girls. I suppose the McKenna family took me because they had so many boys of their own but no girls at all. It’s all true, Patrick. The Mary Wells Society gave Emma copies of their official records.’
Laura seemed to savor the horrified sag of Coltrane’s jaw and the grim realization slowly spreading over Martin Silver’s face as the implications of what she had said sank in.
’So you see, Patrick,’ Laura said as she slowly closed the door. ‘There still is one nigger left on Essex Downs—your son.’
*
An hour after the settlement, Emma and Laura were taking afternoon tea in the lounge at the Bellevue, quietly celebrating the return of Yallambee to the McKenna family. Only Bruce’s continued incarceration clouded their joy and deep personal satisfaction.
Emma was pouring Laura more tea when she noticed John Matheson enter the lounge. He stood in the doorway, his eyes anxiously scanning over the tea tables. When Emma waved and caught his attention, he hurried over to her. He was grinning from ear to ear.
‘When I got back to my office there was a message from the Attorney General’s office,’ Matheson said happily. ‘Bruce is to be released at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. I thought I’d better come and tell you in person.’
Relief surged through Emma like a flooding tide. She tried to speak, but suddenly, overwhelmed by the events of the day, no words came.
‘Well, I’d better be going,’ Matheson said. ‘I’ll call for you at eight-thirty in the morning.’
As the lawyer left the lounge Emma and Laura smiled at each other across the table.
‘I wish my father was here to see this day, ‘Emma said.
‘I wish he was here, too,’ Laura said. ‘I’d like him to see the look on your face at this moment.’
Emma laughed for the first time in weeks. ‘I’d like him to have seen the look on Patrick Coltrane’s face in the lawyer’s office this afternoon.’
A wait
er arrived at the table with a bottle of French champagne.
‘Compliments of Mr John Matheson,’ the waiter said as he popped the cork. ‘He said you ladies had something to celebrate.’
When the wine was poured Emma and Laura raised their glasses.
‘To Captain Jack McKenna and Yallambee,’ Emma said. ‘I think the time has come to take our Light Horseman home.’
*
Royston Silver found nothing to celebrate after the settlements in the lawyer’s chambers. Instead he remained in the conference room, ashen-faced and distraught, demanding a full explanation from Coltrane of the personally and politically devastating revelations made by his wife.
Silver and Coltrane were still in earnest and heated conversation when they left the law firm just before three o’clock to continue their discussion at the nearby Colonial Club. Along the way Coltrane stooped at the a sub-branch of VMP and deposited Emma’s bank draft in settlement of Yallambee.
While he was at VMP, Coltrane had intended to draw a bank draft in favor of the vendors of the property he had bought in Hamilton which was to be settled the next day. But the branch was just closing. Already a clerk was waiting to lock the door.
When the door of the Victorian Mercantile and Pastoral Company closed behind him, Patrick Coltrane had no way of knowing that it was just one of the company’s twenty-seven branches which would never open again.
CHAPTER FORTY
As a result of the demise of the Victorian Mercantile and Pastoral Finance Company in 1937, thousands of customers lost their savings. Large investors like Patrick Coltrane and Royston Silver, who had put all their eggs in one basket, lost everything and were left penniless. The 1937 Royal Commission on Banking submitted many far-reaching recommendations for changes in the industry. Few were ever acted upon.
The Light Horseman's Daughter Page 36