by Anna Jacobs
The burning sun was moving inexorably down towards the horizon, yet even now, in the late afternoon, it was hot and the faces of the people in the trucks were reddened by the sun, their shoulders drooping like flowers in the heat.
Then the men erecting the tents broke the silence by shouting a greeting and striding across to the trucks.
‘Welcome to Special Group One! I’m Gil Matthews, your foreman, and this is Pete Hessel, my deputy.’
‘This can’t be our land!’ Bert exclaimed. ‘It can’t!’
Gil looked at him sympathetically, remembering from his war service how neat and tidy England and Europe had been, how firmly under man’s control nature was there. Here men were tiny and nature was dominant.
Suddenly there was a mad scramble to get off the trucks, with parents shouting instructions to children to stay close by, husbands and wives moving to stand together until all the adults were gathered round the lean foreman with his tanned face and sun-bleached light brown hair. He looked as if he was used to hard physical work.
He was of middle height, shorter than some of the other men, but he had a presence that made them pay attention to him as he pushed up the sweat-dampened bandana round his forehead. ‘Welcome to Special Group One, though it isn’t the welcome you or I expected, I’m afraid.’
‘Where are the farms?’ someone shouted.
Gil waved one hand to encompass the surroundings. ‘The blocks of land are spread along the track, marked out with boundary pegs. They’ll need more land clearing before you can farm them properly. The Board has sent some tents and equipment to start you off, and the material for temporary shacks will be coming soon, though we’ll have to erect them ourselves. The proper houses will be built later.’
‘But they said there’d be a farmhouse, pastures, outbuildings!’ an older man protested, his voice breaking with the depth of his disappointment.
‘There will. But this group has been put together in a hurry, and there’s no denying that those doing the organising have let us down. Governments promise a lot of things, but it’s people who have to carry them through. Everyone’s been working flat out round here, because there are other groups besides yours. We’ve not got your houses up yet and we won’t for a while but the shacks will at least give you shelter. And the Board will pay you to clear the blocks, so you won’t be without a means of earning a living in the meantime.’
This was greeted with another silence. Men’s fists were clenched, knuckles white, one woman put a hand across her mouth, a tear ran down another woman’s face and the children stood looking from one grown-up to another, knowing something was badly wrong, but not sure what.
Gil let the information sink in for another moment or two, then turned and gestured to the piles of boxes and equipment spread out across the dry ground. ‘We need to finish setting up the tents, so that you’ve somewhere to sleep tonight. We’ll have to dig latrines too. Ladies, there’s bread and tinned meat and potatoes, and cooking pots. Can you prepare us some sort of meal?’ He squinted up through the trees at the long slanting shadows of early evening. ‘If we work hard, we men can get enough tents up to give us all shelter, though some of you will have to share tonight. Fortunately, it doesn’t look like rain.’
There was another hubbub as people spoke to one another, shouted questions at him and at least two of the eight women started crying in earnest, which set off some of the children too.
Norah waited a moment to see if anyone else volunteered, but as they didn’t she moved forward. ‘They reckon I’m a fair cook, so if you’ll show me the food and light me a fire, Mr Matthews, I’ll see what I can organise.’
‘Gil. We use first names in Australia.’
‘Gil,’ she repeated obediently. ‘And I’m Norah.’
‘Norah.’ He smiled at her approvingly. ‘We’ve got some loaves, at least. If you’re careful, there should be enough for tonight’s meal and breakfast, but we’ll need to bake some more tomorrow. I can show you how to make damper bread, which doesn’t need yeast, but there are only three camp ovens to bake it in, so it’ll be an ongoing job till we get better organised.’
He looked round as two lads started yelling at one another and raised his voice again. ‘Someone needs to keep an eye on the kids. Until me and Pete can teach them what’s dangerous and what isn’t, they’re best staying close to camp. They can gather twigs and branches for the fire, but they’ll need to watch out for spiders and scorpions, so kick the branches before you pick them up, kids.’
Gil watched as his words sank in. It all hung in the balance, with some people still looking absolutely furious, two or three complaining to one another and the sun sinking inexorably. Which reminded him. He needed to find the hurricane lamps.
Then an older woman stepped forward. ‘I’ll help you with the cooking, Norah. Come on, you lot. We’ve families to feed.’
She’s another good ’un, Gil thought. ‘Get the lamps out, Pete.’ He didn’t waste time seeing that done, but turned back to the group. ‘Can anyone erect tents? Good. You’re in charge of that one,’ he gestured to a pile of equipment. ‘What’s your name? Andrew. Right. And we need someone to dig latrines, one for the ladies and one for the men.’
To his surprise, the man who had been complaining most stepped forward and said sulkily, ‘I’ll see to that, if someone will help me. Name’s Bert Grenville.’
‘Spades are over there. Someone help him.’
Gil hadn’t the energy to jolly them along, so he lit another cooking fire for the capable looking woman who’d first volunteered, ignored the grumblers and concentrated on providing shelter, food and sanitation. Nights could be quite cool here, even in summer. He helped those dealing with the tents to pick out suitable level ground and left them to it. Pete had found some hurricane lanterns and oil, thank goodness, and one of the women was filling them and setting them out ready for lighting.
He nipped across to check the latrines.
‘We didn’t want to go too far away and we couldn’t put the latrines too near the creek, so this is the best place,’ Bert said even before Gil reached him, looking as if he expected an argument.
He was surprised by the competent job the sour-faced fellow was doing. ‘You’re right. It is the best place. I can see you’ve done this before.’
‘Show me a soldier who hasn’t! But how can we give people privacy? The ladies won’t want to do it in public, you know.’
‘We can’t do anything about privacy tonight,’ Gil said. ‘Just dig the trenches and tell people who’s to use which. No, it’s no use arguing, that’s how it is. There’s too much to sort out before it gets dark.’
Gil walked off before the man could protest further. Already the weight of the responsibility was sitting heavily on his shoulders. What did the complainers think he was? A miracle worker?
He was relieved to see that the women had made a cup of tea for everyone in one of the big cooking pots and the older children were fetching in branches and twigs to feed the fires. A young woman with a pretty face held out a cup for him. It had no milk and tealeaves were floating in it, but they’d sweetened it and it went down easily, soothing his dry throat and putting warmth in his belly. He realised suddenly that it had been several hours since he’d eaten.
‘Did you find something to cook for tea?’
She smiled at him. ‘Oh, yes. Corned beef hash. Norah’s overseeing that and I’m in charge of making cups of tea. There aren’t enough cups but we’re taking it in turns to drink. Is there some water I can use to wash them out and another bucket to fetch it in?’
He should have realised they’d need several buckets. He sorted those out and an enamel jug to use as a dipper for the tea, then led her to the side of the block where the creek trickled. Frogs were croaking already and cicadas creaking out their nightly choruses. ‘Careful. It’s marshy here. Come round this way.’
Without thinking he held out one hand to help her and as she set hers in it, he paused for a moment in shock,
because for the first time since Mabel’s death, the very first time, he was aware of a woman’s attractiveness. He carried on speaking, hoping she hadn’t noticed his reaction to her, but she had, he could see a hint of a smile in her eyes. Some women seemed to be born knowing the effect they had on men. Not that this one seemed a flirt, nothing like that. Just – a very attractive woman.
‘Get your water there. You’d better dip it up with the jug. Don’t disturb the bottom or the water will be cloudy. Tomorrow we’ll dig a deeper hole in the creek so you can put your bucket in more easily. I’ll put these branches as markers to show you the best path when you need more water.’ As he picked up a dead branch, something scuttled off into the undergrowth and she squeaked. ‘Nothing to harm you here, except snakes and they usually slither away unless you attack them.’
She shivered. ‘I’ll not do that.’
‘Stamp your feet when you’re walking in areas with debris and low plants where they might be hiding. They’ll feel the vibrations and get out of the way.’
‘I never thought of there being snakes,’ she said wonderingly. ‘We’ve a lot to learn about Australia, haven’t we, Mr Matthews?’
‘Gil.’
‘And I’m Irene.’
A voice called his name sharply and he sighed. ‘I’d better hurry. You hold the lamp and I’ll help you get a bucket of clean water first.’
While she held the lamp up, he dipped the water up carefully then carried the bucket back for her. By that time the voice was calling out for him again, sounding extremely indignant. ‘Got to go. Will you be all right now?’
‘Yes, of course.’
There were six tents up by the time it grew dark. As the eight families gathered round the two camp fires, Gil noted who sat there waiting for someone to tell them what to do next and who got on with things of their own accord.
‘We’ve got some bush rugs to keep you warm at night,’ he said once they were settled down and eating their corned beef hash, drinking tea from any kind of receptacle they could find to make up for the shortage of cups. ‘We’ve not unpacked all the boxes, but so far we’ve not found any groundsheets, so you’d be best sleeping in pairs with one bush rug under you and one over you. We call them blueys, by the way, for obvious reasons.’
Silence and a few nods greeted his words. The poor devils looked exhausted. Well, he was pretty tired himself.
‘I shall complain about this to the authorities,’ Bert said.
‘You go ahead and complain, mate. If they take any notice, I’ll get you to do my complaining too.’ Gil didn’t know what to make of that fellow. He’d worked hard and done a good job with the latrines, not the most pleasant of jobs – but had never stopped complaining. ‘In the meantime, we have to do our best with what we’ve got. Now, if you’ve all finished eating, I reckon we’d better sort out who sleeps where. Some of you will have to share tents tonight, but at least you’ll be out of the cold.’
He was going to sleep in the open near the fire. Not a hardship at this time of year and he’d had enough of being surrounded by people for one day. Pete could sleep where he wanted.
To his annoyance, Gil found himself watching Irene as she helped clear up then got ready for bed. That puzzled him. Why her? Why had being close to her roused his body after years of not desiring anyone or anything? She was happily married, from the way she looked at her husband, and at least ten years younger than Gil. Ah, he was a fool.
He fell asleep, still wondering about Irene, what had brought her here, how she’d get on as a settler.
Norah laid out the blankets in their half of the tent, arranged for Janie to sleep with a girl from the other family sharing with them, then went out for a stroll to let the other adults get ready for bed. Strange that the first time she’d be sharing a bed with her husband would be in such circumstances.
She felt shy as she went back to the tent and used the darkness to slip a nightdress on over her underwear. She’d stopped wearing corsets on board the ship and loved the freedom of not being constrained. It’d be foolish to sleep all night in her outer clothes, though, and make them even more crumpled. She didn’t know how she was going to get washed in the morning, though.
As the foreman had said, it had grown rapidly cooler as it grew dark and she shivered as she lay down beside Andrew, closing her eyes with a tired sigh.
‘You need to move closer,’ he murmured near her ear, ‘otherwise the blanket won’t cover us both.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No, it’s me who’s sorry.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘Getting you into this mess.’
‘It is a bit of a muddle, isn’t it? We’ll laugh about it one day, I suppose.’The warmth of his body was so tempting she moved closer.
His hand encountered hers and he wrapped his fingers round it. ‘You feel chilled through. Come here, let me hold you properly. I rarely feel the cold.’
She moved gratefully into his arms, letting his warmth wrap around her, feeling his breath gently disturbing her hair.
There was silence, then he said suddenly, ‘You’re taking all this without making a fuss or complaining. I really appreciate that.’
‘Well, it’s not your fault. And anyway, weeping and wailing wouldn’t change a thing, would it?’
‘It is my fault because I’m the one who got us into this. I’ll do my best to sort things out quickly and get you a proper home.’
‘We shall do our best.’ She’d admired the way he’d got on with things tonight, instead of whining and complaining like that Bert Grenville. Her first impression of the man hadn’t changed. She neither liked nor trusted him. She yawned and felt sleep creeping over her body, gave into it willingly.
The next thing she knew, grey light was filtering into the tent and she could hear the sound of someone hammering outside. But Andrew’s arms were still round her, so she waited till he woke up to move. It’d been a long time since a man held her like this and she’d forgotten how good it felt.
Then a little ant ran across his cheek. He twitched and as it continued to run round his face, opened his eyes and shook his head to dislodge it, staring at her in surprise for a moment. He pulled away suddenly and she realised why with a blush.
She didn’t comment on the change in his lower body but was glad for this proof that he did desire her. It had been worrying her more than a little that he’d showed no signs of wanting her except for that one kiss before they left England. Edging away, she reached for her clothes but quickly abandoned the attempt to dress under the blanket and after checking to make sure the others were asleep, got up to do the job properly, standing up.
The combinations she was wearing under her nightdress reached only to her knees and she saw Andrew’s eyes linger on the swell of her full breasts, which she knew showed clearly under the fine cambric. She’d never be able to achieve the slender boyish look that was fashionable now, that was sure, not with her figure. Feeling warmth in her cheeks but not trying to hide herself from him, she slipped on her petticoat and a sensible, sleeveless cotton frock. It warmed up quickly here and even at this hour of the morning she didn’t feel the need for a cardigan.
When she went outside, she saw to her immense relief that the women’s latrine was shielded from view. The hammering she’d heard had been Gil. He’d stuck poles into the ground on three sides with a plank joining them, and was just finishing nailing leafy branches to this.
He took a step backwards to check his work, then turned and saw her watching. With a grin, he flourished an invitation to her to use the convenience before starting building the same sort of fence round the men’s area.
When she’d finished her ablutions, she smiled up at the weak morning sunshine. Would she ever get enough of it after the grey, rainy weather she’d experienced so often in Lancashire? Then she thought of how much there was to do and went to wash her hands and face in the creek at a place their foreman had marked out, just below where they took their drinking wate
r. She flapped her hands to dry them as she walked back to the tent to rouse the children.
It was going to be a very busy day, she was sure. Well, she didn’t mind that.
Bert woke early, or rather, he was woken by someone hammering away, on and on. No consideration, some folks hadn’t. He’d slept badly, as usual, but at least he hadn’t had one of the yelling, shouting nightmares that were his legacy from the war. He stared at Susan, still asleep next to him. Even now, she was frowning. She’d changed so much since their marriage.
Well, so had he. The war was to blame for a lot of unhappiness in the world. Now he’d survived it, he intended to get what he could for himself and his family, if they ever had any family, that was. Susan wasn’t very fond of bed play, damn her.
She was still asleep, but he decided to get up and start work. No use lying here thinking. He hoped things would go better here today, but didn’t feel optimistic. So far, this group settlement thing had been one big mess after another.
When he left the tent, he saw what had caused the banging. Gil was screening the latrines. Bert nodded approval and went to use the men’s, then began to help him, picking up suitable branches and handing them to the foreman. ‘What are we going to do today?’
‘Start building the humpies.’
‘Humpies?’
‘The temporary shacks for you to live in. You need them as much to shield you from the sun at this time of year, because we won’t get much rain till April. That’s what that pile of corrugated iron is for, walls and roofs.’
‘They cheated us.’
‘So you said yesterday. How long are you going to harp on that? What’s done is done and we have to make the best of it.’
Bert scowled at him but continued to hand him the leafy branches. ‘What do we do when the leaves drop off these?’
‘Pick more branches and thread them through. There’s no shortage of branches round here, but our leaves are leathery, especially the gum leaves, so they’ll last longer than the soft English leaves would.’