The Secret Years

by Barbara Hannay

  ‘And Penwall Hall?’ Ro had to ask. ‘I suppose it’s as grand as ever?’

  ‘Oh, sure. Very grand. The whole estate is looking really beautiful. They’ve done it up, mainly for tourists, so it can pay its way.’

  Such cautious answers! So out of character.

  Ro waited for Lucy to add details. In the years gone by, her daughter had been very chatty. As a schoolgirl Lucy would come home overflowing with stories about everything that had happened inside and outside the classroom. Even as a teenager in high school, when other children became withdrawn and uncommunicative, her Lucy would sit at the kitchen counter as they cooked dinner together, peeling potatoes or chopping onions, while regaling her with accounts of liaisons and bust-ups among her friends, of gossip about her teachers or post-mortems of sporting events.

  Half the time, Ro hadn’t really listened. She’d just let Lucy rattle on. Even after she’d joined the army, Lucy had loved to chatter, so it was a complete turnaround to have to prise information from her.

  ‘So, you must have met people from the family?’ Ro prodded.

  There was a brief flicker in Lucy’s eyes. It might have been pain or sadness, but it came and went so quickly, Ro wondered if she’d imagined it.

  Just then, the waiter arrived with their coffees. They thanked him and Ro added sugar to her cappuccino and carefully stirred, wishing now that she’d ordered the carrot cake, as well, even though Lucy hadn’t wanted any.

  Her daughter took a tentative sip of her long black and then sat, staring out to sea with a pensive little frown. ‘Actually, I couldn’t meet your cousin or his wife,’ she said, turning back to Ro as she put her cup down. ‘They were away in London the whole time I was there.’

  ‘Oh. That’s a – a pity. And Alice?’

  ‘She died a few years ago.’

  ‘Really? I hadn’t heard.’ Ro knew she shouldn’t sound quite so relieved, but she couldn’t help it. She’d been so tense. ‘Not that I’ve kept in touch.’

  ‘But I did meet one of your mother’s good friends,’ Lucy said. ‘An old lady called Primrose.’

  Ro blinked. ‘Primrose Cavendish? Goodness, I’d almost forgotten about her. She was lovely as I remember.’

  ‘She’s still lovely, Mum. So sweet and thoughtful and she has very fond memories of you. It’s a pity you couldn’t have been there, actually. I had morning tea with her and she showed me so many photographs of Georgina when they were young. Did you know that Georgina and Primrose went to London and were presented to the King and Queen when they made their debuts?’

  ‘Oh yes. The family loved telling me about that sort of thing. They were very lah-di-dah.’

  ‘So I gathered. Primrose confirmed everything you’ve said about Georgina’s sister. That letter in Harry’s tin showed Alice’s personality to a tee. Snobby, cold and insensitive.’

  Ro shuddered as the particular memory she was trying to suppress jumped into her consciousness like a burst of shrapnel.

  To her surprise, Lucy reached across the little table and squeezed her hand. ‘Mum, I felt for you, being sent there when you were so young.’

  ‘Yes, well . . .’ Ro was lost for words. Lucy’s reaction was so different from what she’d feared. Perhaps her darkest secrets hadn’t been revealed after all.

  She could actually feel the knots in her shoulders and stomach beginning to relax.

  Lucy smiled again. ‘Primrose told me you used to escape to her place whenever you could and you stuffed yourself with her saffron cake.’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘And look.’ Picking up her shoulder bag, Lucy undid one of the zipped inner pockets. ‘She gave me this photograph, too. It’s for you, Mum. She wanted you to have it.’

  Lucy pressed a small, aged, black-and-white snapshot into her hand and Ro gasped as she saw the dearly beloved, almost-forgotten face of her mother holding a gurgling infant. Such a fine, good-looking woman, with lovely smooth wavy hair and such a clear, intelligent gleam in her eyes, a hint of inner strength.

  If only I could have known you, she thought.

  And there, too, in the photograph’s background was the long flat stretch of sun-bleached paddocks, complete with an iconic outback windmill. Kalkadoon. The childhood home that had become almost as mystical and perfect in Ro’s imagination as the legendary Camelot.

  ‘That baby must be me, I suppose,’ she said in a choked voice.

  ‘Of course it’s you, Mum. Look at the eyes and the smile. That’s your smile.’

  ‘I guess.’

  Ro looked at her tiny self. Such a happy, cheeky-looking baby she’d been. Perhaps, if her mother hadn’t died when she was only five, she might have grown up feeling so much better about herself.

  ‘Primrose thinks I have the same smile,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Does she?’ Ro found herself touching her fingertips to her lips, testing their shape.

  ‘It was the first thing she said when she saw me.’

  ‘Goodness.’ And suddenly Ro was awash with unexpected emotion. She’d been so braced for Lucy to return with her head filled with criticisms and horror stories about her.

  ‘Primrose gave me a couple of letters, too,’ Lucy said. ‘Including one Georgina wrote when you were a baby that I know you’re going to love. But I’ll save them for when we’re back at the apartment so you can read them in privacy.’

  At the mention of the apartment, Ro was hit by a slam of panic. ‘Actually, there’s something I need to explain about the apartment.’

  Lucy frowned. ‘Oh?’

  ‘I – I’ve moved out, love. I’m staying with your grandfather now.’

  ‘Really?’ Lucy couldn’t have looked more shocked if Ro had announced that she’d moved in with George Clooney. She frowned. ‘How come? I thought you said Harry was fine.’

  ‘Well yes, he’s pretty good, for the moment,’ Ro hedged. ‘But we know he’s going to deteriorate.’

  ‘Crikey.’ Lucy let out her breath in a surprised huff. A beat later, her eyes narrowed shrewdly, as if she wasn’t buying this news. ‘It’s – it’s hard to imagine you living with Harry.’

  ‘I know, but we’re rubbing along okay.’ Defensively, Ro added, ‘He needs someone to cook and clean for him, and I didn’t really like to leave him to Blue Care and Meals on Wheels.’

  ‘Well, that’s great, I guess, but you —’

  Lucy gave a dazed shake of her head and Ro held her breath, hoping her daughter wasn’t going to ply her with too many questions.

  Unfortunately, Lucy’s eyes narrowed again and another shrewd light flickered. ‘How does Keith feel about this?’

  Trying hard not to squirm, Ro picked up her coffee spoon. ‘He’s a bit disappointed, but he understands.’ She concentrated on scraping foam from the sides of her cup, but she didn’t miss her daughter’s heavy sigh. ‘You can still stay at the apartment, Lucy. I’ve spoken to Keith and he’s expecting you.’

  ‘But won’t that be a bit weird? Just me and your boyfriend? Mum, you should move back with Keith. You love it there. I can move in with Harry. I’d be happy to.’

  ‘But you have to go back to work soon.’

  ‘Not for another week and, even then, I would have to cook and clean wherever I lived, so it wouldn’t make much difference. And Blue Care can still check on Harry during the day.’

  Ro’s tension spiralled, making her chest burn. Trust Lucy to be so logical and willing.

  Carefully, she slipped the precious photograph into her handbag and then felt among the jumble of pens and receipts at the bottom of the bag for a roll of antacids.

  As Lucy watched her peel away the foil, she said, ‘Mum, everything’s okay with you and Keith, isn’t it?’

  It was another question Ro had been dreading. She waited till she’d chewed and swallowed before she replied. ‘I – I’m not sure.’

  ‘Oh no, Mum. God, no.’ There was a shocking, almost despairing edge to Lucy’s cry. ‘Keith’s the loveliest man. You can’t have found someth
ing wrong with him already. I’m sure he’s steady, a salt of the earth type.’

  ‘I know.’ That's the problem.

  Ro pressed her lips together, trying to stop the tremble. It was too hard to explain this, especially to her daughter. ‘I don’t want to talk about it, Luce. Maybe later, but not now, when you’ve just got off the plane. You should at least use the apartment today. Keith’s at work. You can have the place to yourself. He’s fine with you using it. Catch up on some sleep and we’ll sort the rest out later.’

  Lucy didn’t seem happy about this, but if she was moved to speak up, she must have thought better of it. Instead, with another anxious and searching glance in Ro’s direction, she drained the last of her coffee.

  Grateful for her daughter’s silence, Ro hastily changed the subject. ‘So, you haven’t said whether you met anyone else from the Myatt family. Were either of the sons still living there?’

  A fresh furrow formed between Lucy’s eyebrows and, to Ro’s surprise, she stared hard at her empty cup, almost as if she found this simple question extremely difficult to answer.

  ‘One of the sons, Simon, died,’ she said quietly. ‘He was in the army, in Afghanistan, and he came home with PTSD. It – it was suicide. A complete tragedy for the family.’

  ‘That’s terrible. I’m so sorry to hear that.’ Ro said this sincerely. Suicide was always so very distressing and she knew Lucy would be especially upset about the circumstances of this young man’s death. But what a coincidence that he was in the army, too.

  Lucy’s face was still tight and for a long moment she continued to stare at her coffee cup, as if she was struggling with painful thoughts, but when she looked up again, she seemed quite composed. ‘Did you know that your mother was also in the army?’

  ‘Was she really?’

  Lucy nodded. ‘In the Second World War. In England. She was in the Royal Army Service Corps, so it was her job to help get supplies to the frontlines.’

  Ro gasped. ‘Just like you?’

  ‘I know. It’s a strange coincidence, isn’t it? But then Georgina came out here and she was caught up in New Guinea when the Japanese were there.’

  ‘Good heavens. Is that when she met Harry?’ Ro felt a bit shamefaced, having to ask this.

  ‘No. That happened in England beforehand. In London.’

  There was so much about her parents that she didn’t know. It was wrong, wasn’t it? Ro had always blamed her father. Harry had claimed that he didn’t like talking about the past, but Ro knew she was in part responsible. She’d been so caught up with her own problems that she hadn’t really taken enough interest.

  Lucy finished her coffee and appeared restless now. She picked up her shoulder bag, as if she was ready to leave.

  ‘So what about the other son?’ Ro asked, as she pushed back her chair. Surely, Lucy must have met someone from the family to get all this news.

  Lucy stood abruptly. ‘The eldest son, Nick, was there,’ she said as she concentrated on checking the contents of her bag. ‘He showed me around the place and organised the contact with Primrose.’

  ‘That was kind of him.’

  ‘Yes.’ Lucy’s face was tight, her lips compressed.

  Puzzled, Ro could only assume that something had gone wrong. She supposed Simon Myatt’s death had cast a pall over everything. Perhaps it had really impacted on her daughter. After all, they had both served in Afghanistan.

  The path back to the car took them beneath sea almond trees, where black cockatoos squabbled and squawked, and now it was the photo Lucy had brought that recaptured Ro’s thoughts. She couldn’t wait to take it out and look at it again.

  She wanted to study her mother’s face and her baby self and try hard to remember those precious, perfect few years at Kalkadoon, the best years of her life.

  28

  In Kalkadoon homestead’s smallest bedroom, Georgina was daydreaming, imagining the room repainted and decorated with new curtains. A soft buttercup would be nice. And lovely new furniture with perhaps a rocking chair, and a standard lamp in the corner.

  They were very fortunate to have electricity in the outback. Harry had been anxious to make her life as comfortable as possible and, quite early on, he’d installed a special generator and a bank of big batteries to power lighting and the ultimate luxury, fans.

  Now, as she pictured white dimity curtains fluttering at the window, footsteps sounded in the hall.

  ‘So, this is where you’ve got to.’

  Georgina turned, flashing a quick, happy smile as she hurried to greet her tall cattleman with a kiss. ‘I didn’t hear your horse.’ Most evenings, if she hadn’t joined Harry on horseback to help in the paddocks, she would be on the front verandah, doing a little sewing or shelling peas, while keeping an ear out for his return. ‘Has it been a long day?’

  ‘A good day’s mustering. I reckon we’ve cleared all the cleanskins out of the scrub at Redcliff.’

  ‘Oh, that’s wonderful then.’ She knew the task wasn’t finished yet. Harry and the ringers would still have to brand and dip the cattle they’d rounded up, and then separate the weaners from their mothers, as well as drafting off the animals to be sold. For now, though, the cattle were penned and that was the main thing. ‘You must be ravenous. Dinner’s ready in the oven.’

  Harry’s bright glance rested on the tape measure in her hand. ‘What have you been plotting in here?’

  ‘Oh . . .’ She had promised herself she would wait till Harry was washed and fed before she shared her exciting secret, so she said, ‘I was thinking that next time we’re in the Isa I might buy a tin of paint and give this room a facelift.’

  ‘But we hardly use this room.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean we should neglect it.’

  He shrugged, gave her a fond smile and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I certainly won’t argue. Not after the bonzer paint job you did in the kitchen.’

  ‘Good.’ Georgina was very proud of the fashionable cream and green kitchen she’d created. ‘Now, wash up. There’s a steak and kidney pie tonight.’

  ‘I know. I could smell it as I was coming up the stairs.’ Harry rubbed his stomach, still lean and taut after nearly a decade of marriage, thanks to the long days of hard physical work on the station. ‘You couldn’t have chosen a better night for it. I’m starving.’

  Georgina smiled. This pie was Harry’s favourite. ‘I’ll go and mash the potatoes.’

  They would eat in the kitchen and she had already set the table, going to special trouble this evening with a freshly ironed tablecloth and a small vase of pink rosebuds from the precious plant she’d brought from England, having then nurtured it through the blazing hot summers and sometimes-frosty winters.

  It had taken her a while to adjust to the seasons of northern Australia. There were only two – the wet and the dry – but she’d soon learned that the rain brought relief from the hot steamy summer, either in a series of spectacular afternoon thunderstorms or with heavy, drenching monsoons.

  And the dry seasons, the winters, were stunning with pretty white mists rising from the river in the mornings, followed by crisp, clear, cloudless days, while the frosty evenings brought endless skies that blazed with a million bright stars.

  Georgina loved how life on the land revolved around the seasons – mustering in the autumn and winter and calving in the spring, hand-feeding when necessary, if the summer rains were late. She grew vegetables and raised chickens and did most of the cooking, but she was very grateful for Shirleen’s help with the general cleaning and laundry and with catering on the occasions that she and Harry threw a party at Kalkadoon.

  The social life in the outback had been a surprise. People thought nothing of travelling a hundred miles to attend a party or a ball, then sleeping overnight on stretchers lined along the homestead verandahs. These events were always so much fun, with plenty of dancing and laughter and a wonderfully playful sense of revelry. Graziers and their wives were hardworking, but they also really knew how to
kick up their heels and celebrate.

  The only true, and at times quite desperate, sadness for Georgina had been her inability to have children and, although Harry had never admitted it, she knew this lack weighed heavily on him as well. But there was always an upside, and for Georgina it was that, over the years, she and Harry had developed a strong sense of partnership. The Kalkadoon cattle station was a joint venture. Now that she understood the industry they made important decisions together and, when the mustering team took off to spend weeks at a time in the outer extremities of their vast property, Georgina usually joined them. Covered up, wearing a broadbrimmed hat tied on with a big cotton scarf, a man’s long-sleeved shirt and cotton gloves, she’d loved riding on horseback, cooking on an open fire and camping out under the stars.

  At first, Harry had been terribly anxious about her taking part in these musters, but it wasn’t long before he’d realised she was completely at home and enjoyed the outdoor work almost as much as he did.

  Even so, she didn’t mind in the least that her involvement with this outdoor work would change now, after she told him her news.

  The light in the kitchen was a mellow glow, while outside the bush was consumed by inky black night, and insects and moths buzzed and fluttered against the window screens. Harry ate two helpings of the steak and kidney pie, then Georgina made a pot of tea, which they drank while listening to the evening news on the wireless.

  More Australian soldiers were being brought home from Korea. The test cricketers were having a tough time against the spin bowlers in England, while other Australian athletes were training hard for the Olympic Games to be held in Melbourne later in the year.

  The news finished and Georgina turned off the wireless, but rather than taking their cups and saucers to the sink, she sat down again. The excitement she’d been holding in for days was rushing through every vein and close to bursting point now. She hadn’t wanted to say anything until she was quite sure, but each day she’d been growing more confident, and now, she couldn’t contain her news a moment longer.

  Nevertheless, she spoke as calmly as she could. ‘Harry, I was wondering when you’re planning another trip into the Isa.’