Then, as she surveyed the silent streets and graceful columns she became aware of them rising towards her. Aware of the white lintel between two supporting columns coming beneath her feet. Aware of it still rising and taking her with it. She stood firm on that cool marble as she was lifted high above the water, and there, on the horizon was an island. An island that seemed to beckon. She began to swim, never tiring, never fearful she wouldn’t reach it – for this was the place she’d sought for years.
Lacy ripples splashed softly on the crescent of white sand as she emerged from the water. She looked about her, seeing only a tangle of thorns and spiny bushes barring her way further on to the island. It was as she looked at that final frontier she realised she would have to find a way through that barrier. The prospect of the battle ahead held no fears – for once she’d gained the other side she knew she would find a peace that transcended all others.
Claire finally opened her eyes. The dream was still with her, the calm acceptance remaining even in the light of day. Perhaps it was an omen, she thought as she clambered out of bed and headed for the bathroom. An omen of a long battle ahead – one in which she had to fight with more courage than she’d ever known.
6
Matt Derwent had a sleepless night and finally lost patience and clambered out of bed. The magpies were singing their purring warble and the parakeets were squabbling in the gum trees as he whistled up his three dogs and padded bare-foot out on to the verandah. It was fresh after the rain, the earth still damp, the grass smelling sweet amidst the brash scent of wattle and pine. The dogs, an old Blue Heeler, a collie and a mongrel raced past him and soon disappeared around the back of the house. It was great to let them run free without fear of traffic coming along the dusty lane.
He breathed in the scents of a new day, relishing the coolness before the sun rose fully to scorch the earth again. He was glad he’d moved here, for there were no memories of Laura and their life together. No painful reminders of what had been and what might have been if she hadn’t been taken from him so suddenly.
The little wooden house at Threeways was in sharp contrast to the rambling Queenslander he’d sold to come here, but the four rooms and tiny front garden suited him now he was on his own, and there were almost a thousand acres of good pasture out the back and thousands of miles of wilderness to explore beyond that. The Queenslander had been on the coast between Brisbane and Coolangatta. The verandah looked out over crashing surf and miles of golden sand, the garden coming to an abrupt halt on the edge of the dunes. The town was similar in character to most remote Australian settlements, the inhabitants spread over several miles, mostly in isolated farms. There were shops, and an RSL club as well as a tiny cinema, a sailing and surfing club and a hotel. He and Laura had had a good social life. His small practice was busy with the local pets and the stable-yards and small hobby farms that dotted the hills backing on to the coast, and the year before everything turned sour, he’d helped set up a rescue centre for injured and orphaned koalas.
It was different here. There were no clubs, no shops, just the hotel at Threeways which was almost fifty miles away and his closest neighbour. Yet the vast wilderness of Lawns National Park sprawled fifty miles to the west of him, and the Gregory River meandered peacefully through the verdant bush nearby. He’d spent many an hour fishing on its banks or canooing to Crimson Finch Waterhole where wallabies and possums came to drink and a myriad number of birds flew in at sunset. It was a magical place.
Matt looked at his front garden and realised he needed to cut the grass. The cinder path was dotted with weeds and the mail box by the gate was in danger of falling off its post. The picket fence needed painting and the gate new hinges, yet he was in no mood to do anything about it today, for his thoughts were elsewhere.
He leaned against the verandah post and lit his first cigarette of the day as watched the sun come up. Kookaburras were already getting territorial in the bush behind him, and the mist was like candy floss in the tops of the tall trees. He tried to imagine Claire walking up that path, her smile one of pleasure at seeing him, her footsteps light. What would she think of this place after the grandeur of Warratah Station? What did she think of him?
Matt hitched up his trousers and, with a rueful grin, ran his hand over his naked torso. He still had a flat stomach and his arms and chest were fairly muscled because of the heavy work he had to do with the large animals he treated. Yet he knew he was far from the Aussie ideal of the blond surfer with a six pack stomach and bulging muscles. He was an old bloke pushing forty, with a crook knee and hair that refused to do what he wanted regardless of how much he spent getting it cut. A girl like Claire wouldn’t look at him twice.
He became impatient with his thoughts and stubbed out his smoke. Ramming his feet into boots he grabbed an old shirt from the verandah chair and stepped into the yard. The cinders crunched beneath his feet as he made his way around the house to the stables. They were in good condition compared to the rest of the property and the concrete yard was scoured clean. The hay barn stood close by, the feed store off to one side, raised on bricks to ward off termites and vermin. His utility was parked under the lean-to at the side of the stables, his plane tethered at the end of the he’d had built on the far western side of the home paddock.
The dogs barked as they ran round him and he patted each silky head as he walked through the yard. His six horses peered out from their boxes and he opened the doors and led them out to the pasture. It was still too cold at night to leave them out, but the days were warm enough and there was plenty of shelter beneath the trees.
Leaning on the railings he watched them crop the long, green grass, their tails swishing, their coats gleaming. The dogs raced through the grass, noses down, tails up, ears pricked for the scent or sight of rabbits. He ran his fingers through his hair and grinned with the joy of a new day. A day in which sadness had been banished – where memories remained, but distantly and without pain. He was a lucky man, he realised. And while he was in such a good mood he should do something about Claire, for the thought of her wouldn’t leave him and he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw her again.
*
Claire had her usual cup of tea for breakfast and kept a stoic silence as Aurelia lectured her on the importance of eating a proper meal. They were in the kitchen, the scent of frying bacon mingling with the aroma of tobacco and despite her age, Aurelia had tucked into a large plate of eggs, bacon, sausage and fried bread before lighting her pipe. ‘Do you have anything special to do today, Mum?’ Claire asked as she helped with the washing up.
Ellie eyed her, her hands deep in soapy water. ‘Not really. The chores were done while you were still snoring,’ she teased. ‘That’s what city life does for you, Claire – teaches you bad habits.’
‘Fair go, Mum,’ she protested. ‘I’ve been up for ages and it’s only eight o’clock.’
‘Precisely,’ muttered Aurelia from her chair at the table. ‘Day’s half over.’
Claire grinned and decided it was wiser to say nothing. ‘I thought we could go for a ride?’ she said to her mother. ‘It’s been so long and I want to see Warratah again.’
‘Good idea.’ Ellie finished the last plate and dried her hands. ‘Leave all this, it’ll dry itself.’ She turned to Aurelia. ‘You don’t mind being left alone for a while, do you?’
Aurelia grimaced. ‘Don’t have much choice these days. Can’t ride any more and the sun’s too hot for me now.’ She pushed back her chair and stood up, her monocle glinting. ‘Not much use for anything nowadays,’ she grumbled. ‘I remember when I could ride all day, sleep on the ground at night and do it all over again for days on end. I hate being old and bloody useless, but I suppose it comes to us all in the end.’
‘The alternative isn’t much more thrilling,’ replied Claire with dry humour. ‘I’m sure we could get the old trap from the barn and put Smoky in the traces again.’
Aurelia glared. ‘Wouldn’t be seen dead in that thing,’
she retorted. ‘I’d look like Queen Victoria.’
Claire and her mother exchanged looks.
‘I saw that,’ Aurelia snapped. ‘Clear off and leave an old woman to her thoughts. All this stirring up of the past has made me remember things, and I want time and peace to give them my full attention.’
Claire could see the twinkle in her eye as they hugged and knew the old girl hadn’t been too offended. It must be terrible to be old, she thought as she went to fetch her boots and hat, and very frustrating, especially for a woman who had once been so active and full of energy.
The yard was busy with men collecting their gear and loading up the utility. Doors slammed, spurs jingled and voices called. The atmosphere was light and filled with an energy she’d forgotten. Some of the faces she remembered, some were new, but they all greeted her with a smile and wished her ‘G’day’.
‘They’re getting ready to go over to Jarrah to help with the mob,’ explained Ellie as they tacked up their horses. ‘They were going yesterday, but Lee said there’d been a hitch so we’ll be starting later than expected.’ She put her foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. ‘Leanne’s quite happy about the delay. Angel’s unexpectedly home.’
Claire gathered up the reins. The gelding was a bit toey, but manageable. ‘What’s this husband of hers like?’ she asked. She’d only seen the wedding photographs.
Ellie turned her mare’s head towards the first of the gates that would lead them out into Gregory Downs. ‘He’s from Argentina – or at least his grandparents were – and he’s the government vet and Inspector of Stock for this area.’ She grinned and pulled down the brim of her bush hat. ‘He’s very handsome, and his manners are exquisite, but I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. I think Leanne’s got her work cut out there.’
Claire was intrigued. ‘Why? You don’t think he’ll be unfaithful, do you?’
‘Not yet,’ replied Ellie as she leaned down and unfastened the gate. ‘They’re still at the honeymoon stage. But Angel’s too handsome for his own good – and with the amount of time he has to spend away from Jarrah, it’s putting temptation in his way.’
Claire thought about her no-nonsense sister. ‘Leanne might just be the one to pin him down,’ she murmured as they began to trot through the long grass. ‘Now she’s got him, I can’t see her letting him stray.’
Ellie squinted into the sun. ‘Are we going to talk about your sister, or ride?’
‘Race you to the waterhole.’ Claire nudged the gelding into a longer stride and eased forward in the saddle. They left Ellie behind them in those few yards and Claire felt the exhilaration of riding with the warm wind on her face, her hair streaming behind her. The outback spread out in every direction, the grass green, the birds put to flight as they raced across the plains. This was freedom. This was life. She’d forgotten how claustrophobic a city could be. Forgotten how much she had once loved this magical part of the world.
Ellie raced up alongside, the mare lengthening her stride as she stretched her neck and pounded through the long, lush grass. Claire grinned as the gelding took the lead by a nose and hung on.
‘You cheated,’ gasped Ellie as she slithered from the saddle and leaned against the mare’s heaving sides.
‘I know,’ said Claire. She laughed as she dismounted and slapped the gelding’s neck. ‘It’s the only way to beat you.’
They led the horses into the cool, green shadows of the trees. Water splashed nearby, birds called and the warm wind sighed in the tops of the pines. Threading their way through the bush they stopped by the side of the natural water-hole that formed an almost perfect circle beneath the sheer drop of a dark rock cliff. A waterfall trickled with a soothing splash into the clear, cold pool and tree ferns acted like umbrellas over the flat rocks and rough stones that formed a natural beach.
Ellie pulled out two tin mugs and they joined the horses at the waterside and took a drink. The water was icy, burning its way down Claire’s throat. Yet nothing out of a tap had ever tasted as sweet. Once refreshed they sat on the flat rocks and leaned back on their elbows, enjoying each others company after the years apart, re-tying the bonds, catching up on news of friends and the local gossip.
Claire finally lay back and gazed up through the palm fronds. The sky was blue with only a wisp of cloud. There would be no more rain today. Remembering her dream, she turned on her side and looked at Ellie. ‘I’m ready to hear a bit more of the story, Mum,’ she said quietly.
Ellie sighed and hugged her knees. She lifted her face to the dappled sunlight and closed her eyes. ‘Are you sure?’
It was almost a whisper, and Claire felt the uneasiness begin to thread through her again. Yet the strange calm acceptance remained with her from that dream, and she knew that however bad things turned out, she would always have her parent’s love. ‘It’s why I’ve come home. Better to have no more secrets,’ she replied. ‘As Aurelia said, I’m old enough to understand.’
Ellie’s sharp glance was enigmatic. ‘I hope so,’ she murmured. There was a pause, then with a sigh, she began to speak. ‘Charlie finally found work on one of the enormous stations on Halls Creek in Western Australia. Despite the vast distances out here, the story of Satan’s theft and subsequent death had spread like a bush fire, and he’d found it the devil’s own job to get work. Aurelia’s fifty pounds was long gone by now, along with the prize money and two of his three remaining horses. He was almost back to square one.’
‘Why didn’t he come home?’ Claire murmured. ‘Surely he must have known he’d be forgiven?’
Ellie’s smile was sad as she stared into the cool, clear depths of the waterhole. ‘There were times when he longed to return. For he missed Joe more than he’d ever thought possible. Missed his quiet wisdom, his gentle approach to trouble and his loyalty. It was all very well riding across the red heart of the Northern Territory in his quest for adventure, but how much better it would have been if he could have turned the clock back and had his twin beside him.’
Claire watched the expressions flit over her mother’s face and knew she was seeing things from the past, things that were already casting long shadows. She shivered despite the warmth of the sunlight filtering through the trees. Where was this all leading?
‘Charlie wasn’t brave enough to face his brother,’ said Ellie coldly. ‘Two years had passed. Satan was dead and his own reputation as a horse thief had set him apart from the men he worked with – how could he expect his brother to forgive him?’
‘So, what did he do?’ Claire prompted as Ellie fell into a protracted silence.
‘The talk at that time was about war,’ said Ellie eventually. ‘You know what Australian men are like. They enjoy a good fight and like to think of themselves as tough and almost invincible. Mateship is the greatest honour one man can bestow on another, and when it looked as if we’d be dragged into the war in Europe they couldn’t bloody wait to get their hands dirty.’
Claire was taken aback by the fierceness in her mother’s voice. She’d never heard her speak like that before, never witnessed such coldness.
‘Charlie was no exception,’ she said with bitterness. ‘He listened to the stories around the camp-fire during that branding drove and saw a way of redeeming himself. For the men who answered the call of war would be tomorrow’s heroes. Heroes who would be welcomed home to stations like Warratah. Heroes who would be forgiven past sins and enfolded once more into the embrace of their families.’
Claire had many questions, but she remained silent as her mother stared into the past and faced the things that bedevilled her.
‘He wasn’t the only one to enlist right at the start,’ began Ellie again. ‘Seamus decided he wanted to be a hero too.’
Claire noticed the glint of tears in her mother’s eyes. ‘Were you in love with Seamus?’ she asked softly.
‘I thought I was – but at sixteen everything you feel is intense. His leaving almost broke my heart.’
Claire stared at the
waterfall and tried to imagine how it must have been for her mother all those years ago. There was little she could compare it to. The Vietnam war was big news at the moment, but it was too remote to have any real impact on her life. And although it had been the subject of some violent demonstrations back on the university campus, she hadn’t known anyone who’d actually enlisted to fight alongside the Americans.
She shivered as she thought of some of the news reports – horrific images of children burning, people being executed, jet planes on bombing attacks and village huts blazing in the night skies. She realised she had been touched by war through the media, yet it hadn’t reached out to her family or threatened all she knew – had never become personal as it had for her mother.
*
Seamus had kept his enlistment secret, turning up at Warratah with his father in his smart new uniform. He’d been so handsome, so young, so excited about taking his first real trip out of the outback and into adventure. He hadn’t had to persuade Ellie very hard to take a walk with him, and they’d sneaked out of the homestead and hurried across the dry fields to the stand of trees at the far end of home pasture.
Ellie smiled as she remembered his kiss. It was her first and would never forget it. His mouth was warm and after an initial wariness had become softly demanding. He’d held her tightly, his expression unusually solemn as he told her he’d return before she knew it. The war would be over soon and he wasn’t going to chance missing out on it.
Innocent days, she thought sadly. Neither of them knew anything of the world or really understood the war that was being waged in Europe. Nor had they the experience or knowledge to express their feelings about his leaving except in a few fumbling kisses. She had been sad to think she wouldn’t be seeing him for a long time. Excited that this handsome young man had kissed her and asked her to write to him.
Yet something in her had changed that day, and the hero-worship and adoration she’d once felt for him had disappeared, and in its place had come the warmth of friendship – a closeness that would remain with them for the rest of their lives – an unbearable sorrow at his leaving. But she was not in love with him, she realised. Could never promise to wait for him.
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