by Tony Parsons
‘It won’t,’ Ian said. He knew Leigh would kid you up a gum tree and chop it down behind you.
Mrs Heatley shuddered. The thought of her lovely Mr Ian cutting into human corpses was too much for her. It was her private opinion that he would make the best possible doctor but she knew that his aspirations reached beyond a GP’s practice or even a specialist’s rooms.
Leigh hooked the camp oven out of the fire, lifted the lid and using a cloth Mrs Heatley handed him removed the beautifully risen damper.
‘Good one, Luke,’ he said and nodded to the old bush poet who’d been responsible for preparing the damper. Leigh cut it into slices, buttered one, smeared it with golden syrup and handed it to Ian. ‘That’ll stick to your ribs,’ he joked.
Ian chewed his way through two slices of damper and sipped at a large mug of billy tea sweetened with condensed milk and looked around him. It was another gorgeous day – not a cloud in the sky and a soft breeze blowing from the south-east. It was a day to marvel over: a day for fishing or for riding, not a day to get on a coach to begin a journey that would ultimately land him back in Cambridgeshire.
Presently he left the others and walked with Leigh through the park to take a last look at the large aviaries and their beautiful, endangered inhabitants. Some of them, like the orange-bellied parrot, they had been able to acquire because of the park’s status. It was very satisfying to see them flying freely in such large cages, flashing like coloured jewels as they darted in the bright sunlight. In one cage there was even a pair of the endangered Gouldian finches from northern Australia.
This was a good beginning. The swimming pools were yet to be constructed, but they would come. Helen Donovan had assured him that she’d work closely with the rest of the Murrawee and District Development Association to continue work on the pools and assist Trish Claydon with her pottery project.
Leigh’s voice cut into his thoughts. ‘What would really put this park on the map, bird-wise, is a pair of night parrots, Pezoporus occidentalis.’
‘Is that a possibility?’ Ian asked.
‘Oh, I’d say it’s roughly equivalent to finding a Tasmanian tiger or a chook with teeth,’ Leigh mused.
‘That hopeless?’
‘Well, there’re two schools of thought about the night parrot. The first is that it’s extinct and the second is that there may be some birds still out there, but their habitat ranges from western Queensland right across the Northern Territory and northern South Australia to the Kimberley region. A dead night parrot was found beside a road north of Boulia in 1990 and there have been a couple of supposed sightings since then. There could be anything from twenty-five to a hundred left, but estimates are almost impossible because their habitat is so broad. They’re very secretive green and yellow birds that fly, but live a bit like quails, staying amongst tall grass and dense vegetation. They only come out to feed and drink after dusk,’ Leigh explained.
‘So there’s not much chance of us acquiring a pair,’ Ian said with a wry smile.
‘Not unless you were prepared to offer someone a lot of money to try and locate a pair,’ said Leigh.
‘How much?’ Ian asked.
‘A lot. And in the unlikely event that we got our hands on a pair, we’d probably have to duplicate their environment to some extent to get them to breed. But a bird man can dream …’ Leigh trailed off.
‘There’s no harm in dreaming, Leigh,’ said Ian reflectively. ‘Some of humanity’s best endeavours start out as dreams.’
‘You’re deep and meaningful this morning,’ Leigh remarked.
‘Well I’ve got a bit of good news. Fiona’s going to join me in England as soon as she can.’
Leigh gave Ian a hearty pat on the back, ‘That’s the best news I’ve had all year. Good on yer mate! So will there be a wedding?’
‘I haven’t asked her to marry me yet, but if she likes living in the UK, we’ll go from there. It’s going to be a bit of a shock for a girl who’s been on the land for most of her life.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ said Leigh. ‘Fiona’s a top sheila. Now you’ll have to promise me that you’ll have the wedding at Kanimbla. I reckon I’ll be able to dig out a clean shirt for the occasion.’
Ian laughed, ‘Whoa there! You’re moving too fast. Let’s just see how things go.’
‘Okay. But I expect to be the first to be notified of the wedding date,’ Leigh smiled. ‘After her father, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Ian grinned.
When they returned to the smoko site, Leigh pulled a sheet of paper from his shirt pocket and held it in front of him. He cleared his throat, ‘Ian, Luke and I have put a few lines together and we’d like you to hear them before you leave us.’
Ian smiled expectantly as Leigh began reading.
‘He came to us a new chum,
What use to us out here?
“Another swell from England”,
We swore into our beer.
How could we know,
What he would sow
This Pommy bloke
We thought a joke,
This Ian Richardson.’
Leo, Judy, Jim, Karen and Mrs Heatley clapped and smiled, though Billy Landers clapped the loudest. Leigh handed the paper to Luke and he began to read his own contribution.
‘Ian’s leaving us for England,
Leaving us behind,
To be a bloody doctor
Of a very special kind.
There’s grieving at the station
And on Nelanji too,
Cause blokes like Ian Richardson
Are mighty bloody few.
He dreamt how things could be
And in spite of all the narks
In a tiny town called Murrawee
At last we’ve got our park.’
When the clapping died down, Leigh took another sheet from his pocket. ‘If you’ll humour me, I have one more.
‘Brown ducks floating by the reeds.
Bush bees humming in silver trees.
Will you remember these?
Will you remember our golden days?
Our laid-back Aussie ways?
When bitter winds are blowing,
And snow is all you see,
Will you remember all of us in little Murrawee?’
Ian smiled. ‘Thank you, Leigh. Thanks Luke. That’s a very nice way to say farewell.’
There were a few moments of awkward silence because the small group at the table recognised there wasn’t much more anyone could say and that in not much more than an hour Ian Richardson would have left them.
It was Judy Blake who broke the silence.
‘Leo and I just want to say how glad we are that you’ve asked Fiona to join you in England.’
‘Thanks Judy. I am too,’ Ian said.
‘So what will you remember most about your stay here, Ian?’ she asked.
‘That’s a hard question, really hard,’ Ian rubbed his chin in deep thought.
‘I think it would have to be the salt of the earth people of western Queensland and the way they work together when something needs to be done.’
‘Hear hear!’ Leigh cried out.
‘Do you have any regrets?’ Judy asked.
‘Not now that Fiona’s going with him!’ joked Leigh, and everyone laughed.
‘I suppose the biggest disappointment would be what’s happened to the wool industry. I’ve watched the greatest wool clip in the world going down the gurgler, and while a huge amount of growers’ money has been hived off to support the industry, there’s not a lot to show for it. Granted there have been some technical advances in production, but no consistent promotion. We’ve got some brilliant advertising people in this country, but where is the advertising that tells consumers about wool’s softness and elasticity? It seems to me that the industry needs to “sell” wool with a simple but telling slogan like Paul Hogan’s “throw another shrimp on the barbie”, so that you’d have something like, “Now it’s getting colder, throw on a su
per-soft Aussie wool sweater.”’
Ian stopped and looked at Leigh, as if for approval of this suggestion. He knew Leigh’s razor-sharp mind could cut to the core of a subject very quickly.
‘Yeah, a simple message and well put,’ said Leigh.
Ian felt encouraged to continue. ‘The industry has had fifty years to get its act together, yet growers are bailing out because they see no future in wool. The huge downturn in Queensland’s sheep numbers is proof of that. Kanimbla has had to change tack to remain viable. But I’m rambling now. Time to get off my soapbox,’ Ian finished, and everyone laughed.
Ian shook hands with Luke first and then with Leigh. ‘Thanks for all your help, both of you. Good luck with your next book, Leigh.’
‘I owe you a hell of a lot more than you owe me, Ian. If you don’t come first in that bloody medical course I’ll have something to say,’ he said, then called Shelley from his ute to shake hands with Ian.
Ian shook paws with the big dog and felt a lump in his own throat. ‘Look after him, Shelley. And keep a lookout for those dingoes.’
After Ian had watched Leigh drive off, he stood beside the Mercedes and looked back at the place that Leigh had dubbed ‘The Oasis of Murrawee’. And it was a kind of oasis, with its lush vegetation and its water fountains – the kind of place that travellers would welcome after a long drive. On one side there was the long, lovely stretch of gum-shaded river and on the other the leafy aviaries where some of Australia’s rarest parrots and finches were being encouraged to breed to help ensure their survival. There was also a motel with its caretakers, Eddie and Kate Fisher, who were both retired ambulance officers. The two swimming pools, a project under the steerage of Helen Donovan, would make a difference too. There was a lot more to see and do in Murrawee now, and people were coming.
Leo, Judy and Mrs Heatley waited patiently in the Mercedes as Ian took one last look at all he’d helped achieve for Murrawee. It had come at a price because of the long postponement of his personal needs, but he knew he could leave now, confident he’d left the township in a better state than he’d found it.
Ian’s next stop was the Murrawee café. When he got out of the car, he handed the keys to Leo Blake who, with Judy and Mrs Heatley, would drive the Merc back to Kanimbla.
The gold and brown coach was parked outside the café and its exodus of people had just about finished their lunches. Ian dropped his bags beside the steps of the café and the four of them went inside.
Mrs Donovan greeted them warmly, ‘Just enough time for another cuppa,’ she said.
‘That’s very kind of you,’ Ian said. He looked at her and smiled, and she remembered how it had been when he had got off the coach nearly three years ago.
‘You fooled me properly that first time you came in here,’ she said. ‘I thought you were just another jackaroo going out to Kanimbla for experience.’
‘You were partly right, Mrs Donovan. I certainly acquired some experience,’ Ian said with a laugh.
‘You’ll never be forgotten here, Ian. Ray and I wish you well. I daresay Glenda will keep us informed about you,’ she said. She knew that a lot of the locals would be asking for news of him.
‘I’m not going away forever, Mrs Donovan. And I’ve some news for you; Fiona will be coming over with me, so with a bit of luck, I’ll be back for my own wedding.’
‘Good on you, Ian!’ said Helen. ‘I saw the look that passed between you on that first day. I said to myself, those two are destined for each other.’
Ian smiled, ‘Thanks for agreeing to keep things humming here. Maybe the swimming pools will be in action when I come back.’
‘Oh yes, they certainly will,’ said Helen.
‘Looks like it’s time to go,’ Ian said.
The Kanimbla contingent followed him out to the coach where he shook hands with Jim Landers and then with young Billy, who jumped up into his arms for a big cuddle.
A teary Karen hugged Ian and kissed him affectionately on the cheek. ‘Thank you for all you’ve done for us,’ she said, and whispered in his ear, ‘I’m pregnant again. If it’s another boy, I’m going to call him Ian.’
‘That’s wonderful, Karen,’ he whispered back.
‘Very best wishes, Mr Manager,’ he said to Jim Landers. ‘Kanimbla is in your hands now. You’ve got a big program but I know you’ll manage.’
He turned to Leo Blake and they shook hands like good friends do. ‘I can’t tell you how much I’ve appreciated having you with me, Leo, and you too, Judy. It’s made a huge difference. I’ll miss you both,’ Ian said.
He was embraced by Judy, who held him tightly. ‘Our love to Rhona if you see her. We’ll be coming to Edinburgh before long and we’ll drop in to Lyndhurst on the way. The best of everything at Cambridge. We’ll miss you,’ she said and turned away with tears running down her cheeks.
Mrs Heatley stood back from the others while Ian said his goodbyes. She watched as the driver put Ian’s luggage in the side compartment of the coach.
Ian stepped up to her and took her hand. ‘What I owe you I can’t put into words, Mrs H. If you’ll come to England in my summer break I’ll try and make some of it up to you. We’ll go and see the Lake District and anywhere else that takes your fancy.’
‘I knew you were special from the very first day, Mr Ian. I knew it from when you told me you wanted to have breakfast in the kitchen,’ she said.
‘Just as well I did or you might have formed a very different impression of me.’
He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. Then, just as he stepped up into the coach, a car screeched to a halt beside the bus, sending a cloud of dust over the surprised little group. Fiona McDonald leapt out of the driver’s seat and rushed over to a startled Ian, throwing her arms around him and kissing him passionately.
‘It could be months before I see you again. This kiss needs to last a long time,’ she said, her eyes sparkling with tears.
‘It’s time for me to go, darling,’ he said to Fiona as the coach driver nodded to him. Fiona backed down the steps and stood next to Judy, who put her arm around her shoulders.
Ian turned at the top of the steps and looked back at the silent group. ‘I’ll be seeing you,’ he said. The door slammed shut and they lost sight of him. They watched as the big coach pulled away from them and moved like a great oversized slug down the wide road towards the east. Leo Blake looked at the three tearful women around him and shook his head.
The last thing Ian saw of Murrawee was the two trees that stood out starkly against the red soil. ‘Two silver trees shimmering in the breeze,’ came immediately to his mind. And then they were past the trees and the tyres thrummed as the coach picked up speed, heading for Roma and then Sydney. Ian Richardson closed his eyes and the paddocks of western Queensland faded from his vision.
Epilogue
Five weeks had passed since Ian’s departure for England, and Fiona was struggling with the idea of leaving her father. She was torn between wanting desperately to be with Ian again, and wanting to look after her father. She knew he would be terribly lonely when she left – how could he be otherwise? This would be the second time that he’d lost the person dearest to him.
The post office had sent a card notifying Fiona that there was a registered parcel to collect, so she’d headed into Murrawee. After stopping off to talk to Luke at the bird park, she drove to the store to pick up Nelanji’s groceries.
‘Have you heard from Ian, Fiona?’ Helen Donovan asked.
‘Oh, yes. Ian’s rung, Mrs Donovan. He’s started at Cambridge and seems very excited about it,’ Fiona said.
‘Imagine that. And while he’s going into winter, we’re heading into summer,’ Helen said.
‘Yes. He said it was cool, but not yet really cold,’ Fiona remarked.
‘There isn’t a day goes by but someone asks about him. I never would have thought anyone could rate so much attention. Nobody else ever has,’ Helen said. ‘Funny thing, but I knew he was different the first
time I set eyes on him. It wasn’t only that he was so polite, and that he had class, but he seemed to have something that nobody else had. It isn’t that he cares about people, either. Ian has a lot of concern for people. But there’s more to him than those things and for the life of me I can’t decide what it is.’
‘I think I know what you mean, Mrs Donovan,’ Fiona said. How could she explain that Ian’s mission in life was to save millions of people threatened by fatal diseases, and that few had the talent and dedication to follow that path? So she didn’t try, and said that she had to go to the post office.
The parcel was from Ian. She took it out to the four-wheel drive and eagerly tore off the wrapping and padding. Inside was a letter enclosing a small red velvet-covered box. Which to open first? She slid a finger along the flap of the envelope and extracted a single sheet of paper on which was the Lyndhurst letterhead:
My darling Fiona,
I’m sending you my mother’s engagement ring by way of proxy until we have the time to select something to your liking. Will you wear it until you arrive, and then together we can select one of your choosing? The setting might be a bit old-fashioned by today’s standards, but at least it will show that you are adored!
I should explain that when Mum went off with Dad on their field trips, she only ever wore her wedding ring and a wristlet watch. All her jewellery was left behind in a safety deposit box. Some of these pieces are quite valuable and you may wish to have some of them reset.
I’m missing you, my sweet, and am trying to wait patiently for your arrival. I realise you have a lot to organise before we can be together.
My kindest regards to your father.
Fondest love, darling
Ian
Fiona opened the small box and gasped. The ring was stunning – a large diamond surrounded by smaller stones. She slipped it on her finger and felt an immediate uplift of spirit. She was actually engaged, and to the man she’d wanted from the first day she met him. ‘Oh, God,’ she breathed. She realised that her future lay with Ian, and that she’d have to go to him as soon as she could.