The man’s eyes were closed. ‘Really?’ Eleanor wondered if he was asleep and why he’d suddenly changed his mind when he’d been so adamant about keeping his secret yesterday. ‘He’s said nothing?’ she asked, trying not to sound too inquisitive.
‘Nothing,’ the nurse replied. ‘I’ve rung the doctor, but he’s over three hundred miles away and won’t be here for a couple of days.’ She stood, moving to collect the tray, which held an empty soup bowl and partially eaten bread. ‘This is his second meal in seven hours so I think we can safely say that he’ll make a full recovery, that is, when he decides to speak.’ She stared pointedly at the patient. ‘There is no reason why he shouldn’t be speaking,’ Athena raised her voice, ‘unless he’s got reason not to.’
‘There’s no need to shout.’ The housekeeper glanced warily at the stranger. ‘Did you know? About Lesley, Eleanor? I only heard this morning. This morning.’
‘Mr Goward told me,’ Eleanor answered. She should have sought out her mother on her return but another argument was the last thing any of them needed.
The older woman’s frown line was deep, angry. ‘Five years she’s been away. Five whole years.’ Her offence showed in brusque movements as she bustled about the cramped room, which over the past days had grown to resemble an infirmary with its antiseptic scent, dull lighting and pristine surfaces. ‘Beds need to be made, rooms tidied, then there’s the menu. They’ll be seven at table tonight. Seven.’
Athena excused herself, carrying the tray back to the kitchen. Eleanor beckoned to the housekeeper that they should follow and they shut the door on the patient, locking it behind them. The three women met at the kitchen table. The nurse filled the kettle, lit the gas stove to heat the water and began setting out cups and saucers, milk and sugar.
Mrs Howell sat tiredly, mopping her face with a hanky. ‘Where have you been? You’ve been gone half the day.’ She noted Eleanor’s dusty clothes and messy hair. ‘You look like the wreck of the Hesperus.’
Eleanor adjusted the speed of the electric fan. ‘I went mustering with Hugh. We got caught in a storm out in the back paddock. A warrigal wind and –’
‘Hugh is it now?’ the housekeeper said curtly, watching as Athena added two tablespoons of tea to the pot on the sink. ‘Storms and boys with rifles and unknown men and Frederick Barnaby Rivers’ granddaughter on friendly terms with the overseer.’ She drummed knobbly fingers on the table. ‘A warrigal wind, was it?’
‘Yes, it came from nowhere. Hugh was telling me –’
Mrs Howell lifted a hand. ‘I’ve got enough to worry about, Eleanor, without such stories. My father spoke of a warrigal wind. Had us children cowering under the bed for nights on end, he did. My mother used to say, don’t go talking about it, Michael, you’ll only entice bad things.’
‘And did it?’ asked Eleanor. ‘Entice bad things?’
‘I’m sure that you and Hugh,’ Mrs Howell said the man’s name with a certain terseness, ‘have talked about it enough for one day.’
From the direction of the gas cook top where Athena stood came a restrained giggle. The housekeeper pursed her lips together. ‘I’m getting too old to be at River Run. I’ve always considered myself to be a member of this family, but this business with Robbie and now the last-minute news that Lesley is coming home …’
The kettle on the stove whistled. Athena poured the boiling water into the teapot, sat it on the table and then retreated to lean against the cupboards, as if not wanting to intrude.
‘This house will go to pieces if you leave.’ Eleanor clearly wasn’t the only one offended by hearing of her sister’s imminent arrival secondhand. ‘Say you won’t leave?’
‘But you’ll go back to Sydney eventually, Eleanor,’ the older woman replied.
Eleanor really didn’t want to think about Sydney. Her holidays had only just begun.
‘Anyway,’ continued Mrs Howell, ‘it’s all becoming a bit too much for me. I’m no spring chicken and I’ve got a widowed sister on the coast who could do with some company, and I wouldn’t mind a bit of cool, damp air.’ Swirling the tea in the pot, she poured cups for each of them. The tea was strong and black. ‘Every year when the hot winds blow I feel myself dry out a little more. If I don’t leave soon, eventually that blasted wind will take me with it.’
‘You won’t rush the decision? Promise me?’ Eleanor pleaded.
Mrs Howell sipped her tea and fidgeted with the beaded doily covering the milk jug. ‘What about your sister then? It’s exciting news, even if your mother didn’t deign to share it with me in advance.’
‘Nor me,’ Eleanor reminded her.
The housekeeper’s look suggested she didn’t believe her. ‘So you said.’
‘When was the last time you saw your sister?’ Athena’s question broke the unease as she joined the women at the table.
‘Six months ago, but only briefly,’ Eleanor revealed. ‘The convent is quite strict when it comes to visitors and when Lesley does consent to see us, it’s invariably brief. The nuns say that she is happiest by herself or working.’
‘Five years for me.’ Mrs Howell added the scantest drop of milk and blew on the steaming tea. ‘Of course, staff don’t count in the scheme of things, not where family is concerned, even if you have nursed them as little ones and cared for them as if they were your own.’
‘But you never go to Sydney, Mrs Howell,’ Eleanor reminded her.
The housekeeper ignored the remark.
‘You must be excited to see her then, Eleanor,’ said Athena.
‘Yes, of course I am.’
‘But?’ the nurse asked, weighing in on the silence.
Eleanor wet her lips, tasted dirt. ‘It’s just that I don’t think Lesley should be coming home now, not with everything that’s going on. It’s not that I don’t want her back here, but –’
‘I know, I know. We all want her home,’ Mrs Howell agreed. ‘But to expect her to nurse that man down the hallway.’
Eleanor paused while adding sugar to her tea. ‘What?’
‘I was asked to stay on for a day or so,’ Athena took a sip of tea, wrinkling her nose, ‘until we’re assured your sister is comfortable and capable of nursing the patient, although as your mother advised that your sister is a trained nurse, I’m sure she will be fine.’
‘But that’s ridiculous,’ Eleanor argued.
Athena shrugged. ‘Perhaps, Eleanor, your mother feels that by keeping your sister occupied it will make her homecoming easier.’ In a cupboard she found honey, added a good dollop to the hot drink, tasted the tea and nodded her satisfaction.
‘Your tone suggests you don’t think it will?’
‘Death changes people,’ replied Athena. ‘I know very little about your sister except that she has had difficulty coping with a great loss. The young man is buried here, is he not? On your family’s land?’
The wagging tongues in the village had been busy. ‘Yes, he is. He was living here at the time of his death. He committed suicide. It was the war, his experiences there. He never fully recovered his health and I think Marcus knew that his future offered limited prospects.’
‘The war. Yes,’ Athena nodded, ‘some things are too hard to bear, even for the strongest. We come back to a life that we no longer feel that we belong to and then of course there is the guilt of surviving.’ Athena looked directly at Eleanor. ‘And your sister, she too tried to take her life, yes?’
Eleanor could only nod. ‘After she recovered, she stopped speaking. Lesley totally withdrew from us, from everyone. It was Mum’s decision to try the convent. Gradually she came out of herself. It took time, but within a year of living with the nuns, she was better, talking, eating properly. The problem is she’s never wanted to leave the place.’
‘And she has not been home since?’ Athena queried thoughtfully. ‘To the last place her fiancé lived and where he is buried?’
‘No, she hasn’t,’ Mrs Howell answered slowly, topping up her cup with more tea. ‘Is that a problem?’
Eleanor thought back to Sunday, after the shooting, when the doctor first announced that Athena would be nursing the stranger. Her mother had been against the woman coming to River Run, citing her dubious background. She recalled Georgia leaving the table to make a telephone call, mentioning that there was someone else capable of fulfilling Athena’s role. ‘My mother made the decision.’ Eleanor was sure of it.
‘Then one can only hope that it was the right one to make,’ Athena concluded. ‘It takes much strength to survive tragedy. With such a death, part of you also dies.’
‘You nursed during the war,’ Mrs Howell stated. ‘You’d know about such things.’
‘Unfortunately, yes.’ She pinched the bridge of her nose, obviously tired. ‘I will be leaving here this afternoon, Eleanor. Your mother expressed concern at my personal situation the day of my arrival.’ She gave a slight smile. ‘I have a child, you see, and the rumours that my little girl was born out of wedlock are quite true. My morals are questionable in her view.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Eleanor said simply.
‘Don’t be. I can’t comprehend such attitudes, especially when it comes from a woman who is fortunate to live in a country untouched by war. I only stayed because a duty was required of me, otherwise I would have left sooner.’
‘But what about him?’ Eleanor worried. ‘What if Lesley isn’t up to caring for him?’
‘She has trained and so I trust in her ability. Besides, there is little that has to be done, now that he is recovering. He is no longer on the drip now that he is eating. I will dress the patient’s wounds before I leave,’ Athena explained. ‘Tomorrow when they need changing, join your sister in the task if you are concerned. You have already assisted me so I know you are capable should she require help.’
‘Okay.’ Eleanor cupped her hands around the cooling teacup. ‘I am so sorry if my mother offended you.’
Mrs Howell cleared her throat.
‘I am new to this world. I have only been here for six months but I have learnt how quickly rumours begin in a country town and how bigoted people can be. I don’t worry for myself, but I do worry for my family, for my child.’
‘You’re embarrassed to be associated with us,’ Eleanor stated.
The younger woman was surprised. ‘Not at all. Who am I to judge another? But my continued presence will cause your mother discomfort. They have their beliefs and I must respect them. More importantly, I miss my daughter. A mother should always be near her child.’
‘And the patient?’ Eleanor recalled the man saying that Athena didn’t like him. How would he know such a thing? ‘Have you never wondered who he is or where he came from?’
‘I am wary by nature, Eleanor. An unknown man, who arrives on another’s land unannounced and then pretends to be unable to speak when there is no reason for such a disability, must be cause for concern.’ Her hands rose to the tabletop, she interlocked her fingers. ‘There is another thing too,’ she faltered. ‘He looks Italian to me. I’m sorry, but the Italians were on the Germans’ side during the war. It was a bad time for my people. It has been difficult for me to tend to him, it is not so long ago, the war. For many of us, not enough time has passed.’
‘Maybe he’s an American-Italian, maybe he was on our side?’ Eleanor knew by the expressions on both women’s faces that she should have remained silent. ‘Well, it’s possible.’ She thought of the conversation shared with the patient yesterday, of her comments regarding Italian immigrants. Eleanor hoped the stranger wasn’t Italian and if he was, she dearly hoped she’d not offended him.
‘War. There will never be enough years between then and now.’ Mrs Howell patted the nurse’s hand. ‘We understand, lass. I’ll keep him locked up until he leaves. Rex told me that the local newspapers are running a story about him in today’s paper.’ The housekeeper was on her feet, running a rag across the pristine stovetop, returning it to the pocket of her apron. ‘So it will only be a matter of time before someone claims him. Which is as it should be. The sooner we’re rid of him, the better.’
‘I think it would be for the best,’ the nurse replied. ‘I tried questioning him last night after he woke. I’ve seen that look before.’
‘What look?’ asked Eleanor.
Athena met the women’s inquisitive stares. ‘Evasion. He could nod yes or no, write his name on the paper I offered. But no, instead he stares as if dumb.’
‘Maybe he can’t speak English.’ Mrs Howell pursed her lips. ‘Maybe he is a foreigner, just as young Robbie said.’
‘I speak a little Italian and the German that I picked up during the war, among other languages.’ Athena put the lid on the pot of honey. ‘He doesn’t react to anything I’ve said.’
Eleanor knew she should share the truth. Tell the women that the man could indeed talk. But he’d placed his trust in her and, besides, he still couldn’t even remember his name. Athena rose from the table. ‘I have no other information except my instinct. I think I’ll change the patient’s dressings now. My uncle is coming to pick me up within the hour.’ She shook hands with Mrs Howell. ‘Thank you for everything. I’ve taken the linen from my bed and put it in the laundry. And Eleanor,’ she said, turning to her, ‘if you need anything, telephone me, even if it’s just to talk.’
‘Thank you,’ Eleanor replied gratefully, hugging the woman automatically before Athena left the kitchen.
‘She wasn’t that bad, I suppose.’ Mrs Howell gave a sniff. ‘At least she picked up after herself. Although the girl likes the sound of her own voice. Sings every minute of the day she does, in that funny language of hers. I’ve known worse and better.’
‘I like her,’ said Eleanor.
‘It’s easy to admire the strong. It’s what drives people that concerns me. Athena isn’t worried about how her presence here may affect this family, she’s only concerned about herself and her child.’
Eleanor agreed in principle. ‘And isn’t that as it should be, after everything she’s been through?’
Mrs Howell cleared the tea things from the table. ‘I’d expect a woman like that to be selfish. You shouldn’t be so fast, young lady, to take people on face value, to trust them. Most people in the world have their own agenda. Not everyone, but most.’
Eleanor thought of Dante, of the stranger down the hall.
‘Now, before I start making lunch there’s something I must tell you. Rex said that the Sydney Morning Herald –’
Eleanor let out a puff of air. ‘Oh, no. What now?’
Mrs Howell stabbed at a daddy-long-legs spider, squashing the insect on the wall. ‘Well, the truth of what happened has to come out if we’re ever to discover who this man is.’ She gave the kitchen a sweeping glance and, satisfied with her handiwork, turned her attention to Eleanor. ‘I may as well be the one to tell you, lass. Pattie Hicks at the telephone exchange overheard the story on the party line and eventually Rex got hold of it.’
‘Stickybeaks,’ Eleanor decided.
The housekeeper ignored the interruption. ‘There are pictures of your mother and Robbie at one of the stud sales in the Sydney Morning Herald, as well as the photograph taken by the police of our patient. Better to have it all done and dusted, even if the tone of the write-up wasn’t at all favourable.’
‘Why? What was in it?’
‘I only heard secondhand, but something about a line drawn in the sand between the Country Party and the unions and the desire for capitalists such as this family to keep the toe of their boots on the necks of workers. And apparently your mother and stepfather are the epitome of the tall poppies on the land, too busy partying to keep their young son in check.’
‘Heavens. And now Mum is making Hugh sack Mr Lomax and one of the shearers, Billy Wright.’
Mrs Howell’s eyebrow arched upwards until it appeared like an inverted V. ‘I know. Rex told me. Eleanor, listen to me. It sounds like the reporter was quite adept at ferreting out information. There was reference made to your writing – pulp fiction, they called it – and Rex said something about you frequenting some models ball where they have a parade of homosexuals in fancy dress with Vaseline on their faces and beauty spots.’ The housekeeper’s tone was condemnatory.
‘All my friends go to those balls, Mrs Howell. They’re harmless. Just a bit of fun and –’
‘You are a River by blood, Eleanor, not some fly-by-night little Sydney piece. You should remember that when you’re out gallivanting around with River Run’s overseer. It’s not seemly, I tell you. Not seemly at all. Now, you best go and get yourself cleaned up. Your sister’s coming home.’ The brass key ring lay on a kitchen bench and she picked it up. ‘I think I’ll wait while Athena changes those bandages, then I’ll lock the patient’s door.’
Chapter Twenty-eight
The entire household were waiting on the front veranda of the homestead as Rex drove down the circular gravel drive and parked outside. Lesley, seated beside him, looked out the open window of the truck at the two-storey building as if seeing it for the first time, before meeting the fixed, smiling faces of her family. The expressions of those waiting – her mother, Colin and Mrs Howell – were at odds with Eleanor’s own emotions. While she did her best to emulate a sunny smile, her eager anticipation at Lesley’s arrival was mixed with an element of apprehension, an uneasiness compounded by Nurse Pappas’s opinion. Behind them, the Winslows waited discreetly in the hallway, for once Margaret’s chatty demeanour subdued by the occasion.
‘My dear girl.’ Georgia ran down the stairs, wrapping Lesley in her arms. Eleanor and Colin followed. ‘My dear, dear girl. Home at last.’
Lesley returned the hug. ‘Yes, Mum, I’m home.’
Georgia held her daughter at arm’s length. ‘It looks like you could do with some good home-cooked food. I’m pleased you’re home, Lesley. It’s been too long, far too long.’
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