by Tony Parsons
‘I’ve started having nightmares. It’s always the same dream. I’m in a lifeboat in the trough of a wave and there’s this wall of water towering above me. Then just as it begins to crash down, I wake up in a sweat, feeling terrified.’
‘That must be awful,’ said Ian.
‘I don’t know why I’m dumping all this on you. It’s my own fault for having such poor judgement where men are concerned, but I just don’t know what to do,’ Rhona’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she wasn’t a person given to crying, and didn’t want to break down in front of Ian. He was only young, but there was a maturity about him, an empathy that made him different from anyone she’d ever met.
She remembered her first meeting with Ian, and how she had left Kanimbla in a great hurry to avoid making a fool of herself. Ian was utterly gorgeous and years younger than her, but was the only man she’d ever met who seemed to respect her for who she was. Since that first encounter, she’d only met him on one other occasion, yet her fine opinion of him had grown even more. This was a huge concession for Rhona because she didn’t have much time for graziers, despite the fact that a grazier’s money (via her father’s salary) had paid a substantial part of her university fees. Initially, Rhona had lumped Ian into the lucky class of young men and women who inherited property without lifting a finger to earn it. Ian certainly fell into this category, but what she was to learn about him soon changed her opinion. Ian wasn’t made in the mould of many young graziers. He could have sold the great property and walked away with millions, but he hadn’t done that. He’d improved conditions for his employees and set out to make Murrawee a more liveable township. As if that wasn’t enough, he was studying science externally and had even built a small laboratory to aid in this endeavour. This suggested a man of exceptional merit, and one in whom she felt she could confide.
‘Maybe I should just chuck it all in and take off travelling? God knows I need a fresh challenge. I really admire how you’ve settled down here, especially as it wasn’t what you had in mind when you left Harrow. I don’t know how you manage to do all you do, Ian. You’re such an inspiration.’
Ian leaned back in his chair and allowed his gaze to wander across the big lawn to where the giant red gums stood sentinel over the river.
‘That’s very kind, Rhona, and I’m flattered that you feel you can confide in me. I guess you’ve just got to do what makes you happy. Many people have changed careers midway through their lives, and if you’re not content with what you’re doing, perhaps you should consider that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, why not combine travel with a change in vocation? With your qualifications you shouldn’t have much trouble doing another degree in the UK or the United States,’ Ian said.
Rhona allowed his suggestion to sink in. ‘It’s a great idea, Ian, but I simply couldn’t manage financially. I gave Graeme most of my savings, and I just can’t ask my parents for any more handouts – not after all the support they’ve already given me. And they’re close to retiring; they need all the money they can get.’
‘I’ll tell you what I can do to help you, Rhona,’ Ian said at last. ‘There’s a nice little complex attached to Lyndhurst. It’s where my grandfather’s batman lived before he went into the village. Why not stay there while you take a sabbatical and decide what to do? You could look into courses and use Lyndhurst as your base. It won’t cost you anything,’ he said.
‘Oh, Ian! That’s so incredibly generous. But is there any point in looking into studying when I couldn’t possibly pay the course fees, let alone support myself for any length of time while studying?’
‘Of course there is. I can lend you the money for the course fees and you can repay me when you’re earning again.’
‘Ian, post-graduate courses are very expensive and Dad would go off his rocker. I couldn’t possibly accept your money. He might even object to you giving me rent-free accommodation.’
‘Let me talk to him. I think a very great deal of your father and mother and by helping you I would be repaying some of their kindnesses,’ said Ian.
Rhona stood up suddenly and leaned over to kiss Ian’s cheek. ‘You are just the most special man, Ian,’ Rhona said gratefully. ‘I feel awful dumping my problems on you. You must think me dreadfully inadequate.’
‘Not at all. I’m delighted to be in a position to help you,’ Ian said gently. He felt that by helping Rhona he was repaying Leo for staying at Kanimbla well past his anticipated retirement date. Without Leo, and for that matter, Judy, he’d have found the going less tolerable. Leo took so much responsibility off his shoulders that he was able to indulge his passion for science.
Rhona returned to Sydney, her head in a whirl. Ian had shown her a way out of her impasse.
Chapter Twenty-three
It was actually happening. It really was. And anyone driving through Murrawee on this particular Saturday could be excused for thinking that a circus was in town, there were so many vehicles on River Road.
This was the first of the two working bees, and the rollup had surprised Ian. Only two men were left to look after Kanimbla; the remainder were all in Murrawee, including Jack Greer, who was to liaise with Helen Donovan about the catering. Leo Blake had warned Ian that putting these two ‘top dogs’ together was a sure-fire recipe for disaster. So Ian had had a word in Greer’s ear and then talked to Helen Donovan, and they both assured him that they would put aside their differences. This assurance of harmony lasted only until the two of them got together to discuss the lunch.
‘So I’ll bring meat and vegetables for a —’ Greer began, before Helen interrupted.
‘That won’t be necessary. A stew means they’ll need plates and knives – too much fuss and bother. Rolls and sandwiches are all that’s needed for a working bee. If you want to cook something you could make some damper for smokos,’ Helen said.
Greer puffed up his chest. ‘Ian told me I was to give everyone a decent lunch and he’s the boss. So I’ll be putting on stews. You can still supply rolls and sandwiches if you like, and they can take their pick.’
Helen’s face flamed with indignation, but she held her tongue – after all, she’d promised Ian there’d be no dust-ups.
The park’s venue became the scene of increasing activity as trucks began to arrive with fencing material, poly pipe and timber. Both Judy Blake and Fiona McDonald, to mention only two of the women who came to help, worked with Helen Donovan and Jack Greer to provide the smokos and lunches for everyone.
Ian put up the approved plan for the complex on a blackboard so everyone who came to help knew more or less what had to be done. As Leigh Metcalfe had pointed out, the laying of piping and other plumbing was the first essential, though there was some fencing that could be erected while the plumbing was being done. This included the low fence fronting the river, with a child-proof gate, and the concreting-in of some of the very tall steel poles that would hold the bird-proof mesh on top of the cages. Shorter posts were also concreted in for the first shelters. During the morning three loads of ready-mixed concrete arrived from Roma. These loads were poured into the boxing that had been prepared for the pathways.
By lunchtime, water was available from half a dozen taps, and at that point Jack Greer stole a march on Helen Donovan and announced that lunch was ‘on’. There were plenty of people with good appetites who didn’t say no to his stew. Ian looked at Leigh Metcalfe and grinned. ‘So what do you reckon, Mr Bird Man?’
Leigh, who had temporarily set aside his dislike of company in his enthusiasm for Ian’s project, grinned back. ‘I think that maybe this thing is going to work.’ He and Ian had spent most of the morning pegging out the overall plan for the aviaries and it was no small task. It had to be done because the post-hole diggers would be going into action after lunch. Every cage would be planted with Australian native plants that produced nectar, seeds or berries, and the holes had to be dug before the cages were wired and meshed. Initially, more than five hundred trees w
ere being planted. Most of these were trees especially favoured by birds. The trees that would grow tall, like pink flowering ironbarks, were planted outside the cages.
Just before darkness set in on that first Saturday, Leo Blake got everyone together so Ian could speak to them. As usual he came straight to the point because they’d been hard at it all day and were pretty exhausted.
‘I just want to thank all of you for your amazing efforts. We’ve made a great start. Next weekend we’ll need welders, and only one post-hole digger as most of the holes have been dug. We’d also like lots of hollow logs, and rocks, preferably big ones. If you’ve got any, please throw them on a vehicle and bring them next Saturday.
‘During the week our landscape designer will arrive and he’ll be laying out the gardens. Kanimbla will be providing some manpower to speed things up.’ Here Ian paused and looked sideways at Leigh Metcalfe. ‘And next Saturday night the lights will be switched on and we’ll be having a party … with kegs.’
This announcement was greeted with loud cheering and much clapping.
The landscape designer arrived mid-week. Lindsay Gayford and his two offsiders, Rick and Paul, were from Brisbane and had laid out some of the city’s best new gardens. Their services cost a mint, but Ian agreed with Leigh that it was crucial to employ professionals who could work with the climate to produce the best results.
Lindsay had assured Ian that he could do it and then told him what he’d need on site. There’d be loads of loam, compost, manure, pine bark, rocks and railway sleepers. They’d be bringing other gear on his truck. He said he’d fax through exact quantities after he’d seen the council-approved plans. Ian told him he could let him have three men who would work at his direction – Peter Cross, Ted Beecham and Gerald Bradshaw. The young jackaroos had experienced just about every kind of work associated with the land, and Ted said he’d regard the gardening work as a ‘bit of a break’.
The landscape designer and his team of five were hard at it when Leigh Metcalfe’s mate, Luke Weir, arrived out of the blue. Well, almost. He rang from Longreach and told Leigh that he was on his way. He arrived in a green 1966 HR Holden utility packed with gear including a swag, three large flagons of port and several tea chests full of books.
It seemed that in their most recent conversation, Leigh had happened to mention that there would be a significant ‘party’ the next Saturday evening and this had hastened both Luke’s retirement plans and his departure from the Longreach district.
Luke Weir was a slightly larger version of Leigh Metcalfe, though his beard was more profuse and he had guileless blue eyes that promised an unfailing sense of humour. His pet sulphur-crested cockatoo, ‘Kolar’, accompanied him everywhere. He could whistle a treat and quite often repeated Luke’s more colourful expressions. Luke had named the bird after the distinguished Austrian ornithologist, Kurt Kolar, when he read that the learned doctor had created something of a splash on his 1963 visit to Australia. He’d told the waiting media on arrival at Sydney airport that he had an ‘invitation to study the galahs in Canberra’ and that ‘Canberra is supposed to be the best location for this’.
Ian and Leigh drove in to meet Luke late on the Wednesday evening. They found him sitting at one of the log tables that Lindsay had placed for his team to eat at. Luke seemed quite at home talking to Lindsay and greeted Metcalfe with a kind of subdued enthusiasm before turning his attention to Ian.
‘So you’re the young Pommy that’s set this township on its ear,’ Weir remarked wryly.
Ian let the ‘Pommy’ bit slide. ‘I take it that you’re interested in being involved in what we’re doing here,’ Ian began.
‘I wouldn’t be here now if I wasn’t,’ Weir said simply.
‘As Leigh told you, we can’t afford to pay you anything yet. What we’re prepared to do is give you free rent of that on-site van over there and pay for your electricity. Later, if things progress as we hope, we may be able to pay you a small weekly wage. We may also be able to offer you better accommodation a year or two down the track,’ Ian said.
Luke waved his hand in front of his face. ‘Oh, I don’t need to be paid. I’ve got me pension. That’ll keep me going. And it’s a nice spot, here. Leigh tells me you want me to look after the park and keep the tucker and whatnot up to the birds you’re going to bring here.’
‘That’s about it in a nutshell,’ Ian agreed.
Luke looked at Leigh, who nodded. ‘That’s about it, Luke. The idea is to attract people to Murrawee so that the township doesn’t go down the gurgler in the same way that a lot of other bush towns have done and will do.’
Luke looked at the work in progress and nodded. ‘It looks to me as if you’ve made a pretty damned good start.’
‘Wait until you see what happens next Saturday,’ Ian said with a smile. ‘So the job’s yours if you want it, Luke.’
‘I reckon it will do me fine.’
‘In that case we’d better unlock your van and you can get settled in,’ Ian said.
‘Is there anything you want me to do straight off?’ Luke asked.
‘I’ve got my three jackaroos here to help Lindsay Gayford and his two offsiders, so he should be right for men. There’s a heap of trees and shrubs arriving tomorrow so you might be able to help get some of them in the ground. When we’ve got the shrubs in place and the water connected to all the cages, we can start hanging the wire. Here’s a plan of the area so you’ll know what’s what,’ Ian said and took a sheet of paper from his coat pocket and handed it to Weir.
‘Oh, if you aren’t set up for food tonight, I can get you a meal at the café or pub,’ Ian added.
‘Thanks, that would be great,’ said Luke.
Ian put out his hand. ‘Good to have you with us, Luke.’
Chapter Twenty-four
‘I’ve had a call from Lachie.’ Leo held the door open for Ian as they walked into the homestead. ‘It seems that Joe’s generous donation has sparked the interest of a few other graziers. They want to get involved in the motel.’
‘Really? That’s great news,’ said Ian.
‘It sure is. But don’t look so surprised, there’s some good blokes in Queensland. I’ve heard there’s a fellow in Toowoomba who’s given twenty million dollars to local charities,’ said Leo.
‘So what’s next?’
‘Well, they’d like to have a preliminary meeting. I think next Saturday would suit most of them. I thought you might prefer to have it in your study where you’ve got access to everything,’ Leo said.
‘All right. Make it for ten o’clock Saturday,’ Ian said.
The meeting got off to a promising start with Mrs Heatley’s hot scones and freshly made biscuits. Helen Donovan, as spokesperson for the Murrawee and District Development Association, was there, as were Lachie, Fiona, Joe Barker, Sean Driscoll and Will Roper.
Lachie addressed the gathering in his usual, no-nonsense style. ‘The fact of the matter is that we’re very impressed with what’s been done in Murrawee,’ he said. ‘Ian, you’ve talked about fitting a motel into the park and those of us here today would like to discuss the pros and cons of actually building one. Have you done any cost calculations?’
‘I’ve done quite a bit of research. Initially, I’d only imagined a small motel – say, six units. But the moteliers I spoke with told me a six-unit motel wouldn’t be viable. We’d need at least ten units, preferably twelve,’ Ian said.
‘And costs?’ Lachie asked.
‘It depends which way we go. We can have the units prefabricated in Brisbane and put together here for twenty-five to forty thousand a unit. They’d be all electric and each unit would require a TV, fridge, toaster, kettle, crockery and maybe a hot plate and a microwave. You’d have two beds, a sofa, wardrobe and table and chairs. Oh, and linen and other bedding. Plus there’d be bathroom fittings, plumbing and a septic tank to install.’
‘Is prefabrication the only alternative we have?’ asked Lachie.
‘There’s also the pos
sibility of getting hold of some of the mining accommodation no longer required in the mining towns. I’m assured that some of this is still in very good nick and could be used for a motel,’ Ian said.
‘What about management?’ queried Fiona. ‘Wouldn’t you need someone to look after a motel and maybe cook breakfasts?’
‘I’ve thought about that. One of the keys to making the motel pay would be in keeping costs down. My informants suggest offering free board and one of the units to a caretaker-cum-housekeeper, as we’re doing with the caravan park. Also, I’m not convinced that we would need to offer breakfast. One way around that would be to provide breakfast vouchers so that guests could get their breakfasts at Mrs Donovan’s place or at the pub. That way we’d add to their revenue,’ Ian said.
Helen Donovan smiled openly at this suggestion.
‘Wouldn’t most guests prefer breakfast laid on at the motel?’ Joe queried.
‘Perhaps,’ answered Ian, ‘but let’s not make this a sticking point.’
‘We’d definitely need a caretaker-receptionist if we build the hot and cold swimming pools,’ offered Fiona. ‘They’ll require some looking after.’
‘That’s right,’ agreed Ian. ‘Ideally we’d be looking for a settled couple, one of whom is a retired nurse or ambulance officer. Free rent and fishing close by might just attract the right person,’ Ian said with a smile.
‘Okay, so what about the profit side of things,’ queried Sean Driscoll. ‘The first thing we need to know is, will it pay?’