An Unsuitable Mother

by Sheelagh Kelly

Nell wiped her eyes and forced herself to stop laughing. ‘Oh, they’re lovely, thank you very much! We’re just laughing at a film we saw last night.’ Then her watery eyes turned to scold the others, as she murmured, ‘The poor lad’s done his best.’

  The sandwiches being so huge, none of the women were able to eat more than one, obliging Nell to apologise yet again as they made their exit. Also, just on the off-chance, she asked if the woman knew anyone around here with the name of Morgan. That was too much to hope for, but the woman was sympathetic to Nell’s dilemma.

  ‘Isn’t everyone lovely and friendly over here?’ she opined later, as they made for the car.

  Jumping in first, so as to turn on the air-conditioning for the older women, Romy yelped as the hot seat burned the back of her thighs, and jumped out again, to wait for the interior to cool down. Then their journey resumed.

  There was another hour of driving, a quick lavatory stop, a fruitless query over William Morgan, and then on again.

  The terrain suddenly became monotonous, the view hidden by trees. But after being flat for countless miles, the highway began to incline again, lending the passengers the opportunity to comment on more spectacular views. Already there was a hint of richness in the ochreous verge to either side, but now, beyond the fences were sanguine undulations, acre after acre of orchards and vineyards.

  ‘It’s absolutely beautiful – look, Romy!’

  ‘I can’t, I’m driving! And I’ve got one of those gigantic trucks up my arse – oh, and now the one in front is blocking the road sign! Christ, it’s like Smokey and the Bandit …’ Whilst she glared straight uphill, her passengers continued to gasp over the vista, and shortly they reached the top of the incline, the road levelling out again as they entered another small country town.

  ‘Did you see the name of this place?’ asked a flustered Romy, having to concentrate on the traffic signs ahead. ‘I couldn’t see a thing because of that lorry.’

  ‘No, but isn’t it pretty?’ Their car now approaching an avenue of trees, Nell and Nina were admiring the finest examples of Queensland architecture they had seen thus far, an elegant high-set hotel with ornate balconies adorned with iron lacework, and shady verandahs.

  But in less than two minutes they had left the town behind them and were once again passing through farmland and cane fields, with signs that advertised paw-paw, mango, avocado, lychee, macadamia.

  Romy was becoming dubious about proceeding further, should they be travelling out of their way. As soon as she was able, she turned the car around.

  Once back in the town, her grandmother begged, with a look at her watch, ‘Can we get out here and stretch our legs and ask for directions? It’s been over five hours since we set off!’

  ‘You want to be driving!’ Unusually short-tempered, Romy cruised along, looking for a place to pull in. This township had the same laid-back feel that they had come to expect of Queensland, though on a much smaller scale than Brisbane, not a high-rise building in sight, apart from a water tower. From a cable strung across the road was suspended a fruit bat. Remarking on this, they continued to glide slowly along for a while, admiring the old buildings, graceful arches, awnings and verandahs, Some constructed of timber, others of painted masonry, with parapet frontages, classical pediments and urns – all beautiful. Yet this architectural elegance did not extend to society; most of the inhabitants seemed quite countrified.

  There seemed to be few traffic restrictions here, the ranks of cars and utility vehicles parked directly outside the front of the shops, nose to kerb.

  ‘Go there under that lovely tree!’ instructed Nell.

  There were many lovely trees with smooth mottled bark, though Romy steered under the dense shade of the one her grandmother had indicated. Upon getting out and stretching limbs, she tried to make sense of the parking sign, to see how long they would have, whilst Nell and Nina stood to admire their canopy of bright green feathery leaves and scarlet blooms. Now standing still, Nell was better able to survey the faces of male passers-by, some deeply tanned and clad in work shorts and broad-brimmed hats, others with faces almost as pale as those at home, in business shirt and trousers. It was a stretch of the imagination that any of them might be her son, but one could dream …

  Having found out the name of the town, Romy made quick consultation of the map, and to everyone’s great relief, said that their turn-off was just a few hundred yards away.

  Nina advised, ‘We’d better stock up with food then, at that supermarket across the road – milk, bread, bacon – in case there’s nowhere nearer to Millie’s.’

  They approached a pedestrian crossing and waited for the signals to change, all three jaws dropping as an elderly woman, wearing a flowered dress and a German war helmet, pedalled by on a three-wheeled cycle.

  ‘My God, what the hell have we struck?’ asked Nina.

  Romy started to giggle, Nell too, then the lights changed, and, still laughing, they crossed the highway to a canopied walkway. Nina spotted a butcher’s and led the way. They had only gone in for bacon, but her mother admired the lamb cutlets on display and insisted on having them.

  ‘I’m not like you two,’ reproached Nell, in reality wanting to put some nourishment into her granddaughter. ‘I can’t live on plankton, I need a decent meal – don’t worry, I don’t mind cooking.’

  ‘Good, I’ll be happy to let you.’ A weary Nina asked for four. Whilst the butcher was weighing these, she narrowed her eyes at the heavy whiff of smoke and suspected the bacon was of this variety, to which she had an aversion. ‘Is that bacon smoked?’

  ‘Yes, got my own smokehouse out the back,’ said the butcher proudly.

  ‘Hmm, have you got any that doesn’t reek of bonfire?’ requested Nina.

  The butcher looked put out, and informed her, ‘All bacon’s smoked.’

  ‘Well, no, actually, we ate some unsmoked down in Bris—’

  ‘All bacon’s smoked,’ he repeated like an automaton.

  ‘Really? Even in Outer Mongolia?’ Nina gave a caustic mutter from the side of her mouth, Romy disassociating herself to chortle in the background, and Nell feeling unable to ask if the butcher knew of anyone called Morgan.

  Paying for the cutlets, they left without the bacon.

  ‘Honestly, they make these sweeping statements,’ objected Nina. ‘All bacon’s smoked – my arse. I’ll bet he’s never been ten miles down the road, let alone outside Queensland …’

  Their visit to the supermarket was brief, the few items they purchased being packed into the cool box. Nell did enquire about William Morgan in there, but all she got was a blank stare at her accent, then they were back en route.

  And in only minutes they were to come across the signpost that they had missed earlier. Taking the turn-off, it seemed they were on their final leg at last – until Romy stopped the car, got out and ran to a fence.

  ‘Where’s she off now?’ bayed Nina.

  ‘I think she just wants to get a photo of that view.’ Nell craned her neck to see it too.

  It certainly was fantastic, stretching into the distance, the rolling red soil with its verdant ranks against the vivid blue of the sky …

  Then it was onward, past more fields of fruit trees, with signs that warned, Dingo traps – Do Not Enter’, the sun sparkling on a dam, a secluded farmstead, a distant windmill across a cane field, a herd of Brahman cattle, mile after flat mile of grazing, eucalypts with leaves that wilted in the afternoon heat, and ochre turrets, home to termites.

  Finally they arrived at the town where Millie lived. Well, Mary had called it a town, but in England it would be termed a village, and a very unprespossessing one at that. The road that had been long and straight now began to snake between a welter of tall but spindly gum trees, and an open area of what looked like a swamp. Shortly, a cluster of unattractive bungalows appeared, and some kind of mast.

  Relieved to have finally arrived, Nell could not help but shake her head at the odd places people turned up in. ‘Wha
t on earth possessed Mary’s sister to move ten thousand miles to live here? Apart from to get away from Mary that is.’

  ‘I think that might be the reason,’ observed their driver a few seconds later, as the main road suddenly terminated in a T junction, and thereupon appeared a breathtaking view of the Coral Sea.

  Both Nell and her daughter let out a gasp of incredulity, Nell craning forward to gaze over Romy’s shoulder through the windscreen. ‘It’s paradise …’

  Her granddaughter agreed, and asked, ‘Which way do I turn?’

  ‘Any way you like,’ breathed Nina, feasting her eyes on the turquoise sea and pristine sands.

  Romy steered to the right, only able to snatch the occasional glance at the stunning view as she kept her eyes on the road. To the other side of it were houses, none of them very prepossessing, a mixture of fibro-cement shacks with corrugated tin roofs, plus brick and tile bungalows. On the ocean side the foreshore was dappled in shade from the graceful tassels of casuarina trees, the ground beneath covered in succulent foliage, pink flowers, and hummocks of spiky grass. Whilst her passengers strained their eyes between the dangling branches, uttering gasps at the gem-coloured sea, Romy drove slowly along an esplanade.

  After only a short way, she was to steer off the road under a group of pine trees – not the Christmas tree variety, but a more exotic type. ‘There’s the general store. You two stay here, I’ll just nip in and get directions for this apartment, and they might know Millie too.’

  A blast of heat accompanied the opening of the door. ‘I’ll leave the air-con on for you,’ said Romy.

  She left Nell and Nina to exchange amazed comments, but they had only a few moments to feast their eyes on the panorama, for Romy ran back over the road and got back into the driving seat. ‘They do know her!’ She waited for a car to pass by, then pulled out.

  This was no surprise to Nina, who supposed, ‘If she’s anything like Mary they’ll know her for miles around.’ She had noticed that Nell was flagging. ‘But we’ll go to our digs first, chuck our bags in, then have a dip and relax. Mrs Kerfupps can wait till tomorrow.’

  As they motored slowly along the esplanade, Nell tore her eyes from the sea to examine the township, able to see now that it was complemented by more decorous houses than those they had initially seen: picturesque chalets of timber and weatherboard; nautical colour combinations of blue and white, others of cream, maroon and dark green; colonial-style palaces set on stilts, with a grand frontal staircase and a balustrade all the way round, their ornamental pediments, and finials and lattice inherited from a more elegant age; ultra-modern dwellings too – the whole strung like limpets along the breathtaking length of coast.

  ‘I couldn’t give a bugger if Mary’s sister lives here or not. This is where I’ll be spending the rest of my holiday …’ Pulled up in her thoughts, Nina glanced at her mother. ‘Sorry, Mam, I was only kidding, we’ll go anywhere you want to look for William – but isn’t this just fantastic?’

  Nell happily agreed. ‘Look there’s not a soul on the beach …’

  With Romy keeping her eye out for the appropriate avenue, alas the car was soon to turn away from the sea. This was a slight disappointment to its occupants, but not for long, for the brick villa they came upon was eminently suitable. Part of a small complex, each was set amongst trees and shrubs and had its own private area of garden partitioned by trellis. The interior was quite cool with, tiled floor, and was to become even cooler by evening, though they left the patio doors open so as to let in fresh air and hear the crickets, the insects kept out by fly-wire screens. To the rear of the complex lay a sandy firebreak, then dense bush that gave the impression that one might get lost within moments of entry. Discovering a swimming pool, Nina was glad that there were no noisy children in it – in fact, there seemed no other people at all staying here, and they had the entire pool area to themselves. Once ensconced, all three went for a dip, but were initially disconcerted by the large hornet-like insects that hovered over the water – until they saw what appeared to be little ballet pumps at the end of those pendulous legs, this reducing their scariness. After a long wallow, too tired to visit the sea that afternoon, they were happy just to relax on sun loungers and imbibe cool drinks, no longer bothered by the hornets, which were in fact harmless, as were the skinks that sunbathed on the walls.

  Around five, Romy said she felt rejuvenated enough to go for a walk to the general store.

  ‘What can you possibly want?’ demanded her mother. ‘We’ve got all this stuff …’

  ‘I forgot a magazine,’ replied her daughter. ‘I’ll only be fifteen minutes.’

  But as ever, she was widely off the mark, taking twice as long as this before rejoining them to partake in a tea of lamb cutlets – which turned out to taste of smoke too, much to Nina’s disgust. Anxious to put some meat on her granddaughter’s bones, Nell tried to cosset with a great wedge of apple pie and ice-cream, and was pleasantly surprised when, for once, Romy seemed hungry enough to clear her plate. Then for a while they were to remain al fresco, watching a whole variety of birds – colourful parrots, honeyeaters with moss-green wings and bright blue eyes, others like clowns who fought and squabbled amongst themselves, musical magpies – but soon the mosquitoes were to drive them indoors. As the sun began to go down, and the parakeets grew more vociferous, kangaroos emerged from the bush, one of them hopping over to crop the lawn right outside the patio doors.

  ‘Hey, did you know male kangaroos had their tackle on upside down?’ blurted Romy.

  ‘Trust you to notice that,’ said Nina, but was interested to take a look for herself.

  ‘I wonder if the men do,’ said Nell with a sly grin, causing the others to exclaim over her audacity, Romy delivering that infectious rumbling belly laugh that they had not heard in months.

  The noise from the parakeets had grown into a cacophony, when night suddenly descended like the throw of a cloak and the birds fell silent, making way for the chorus of crickets and frogs. The kangaroo was still in the garden; they couldn’t see where, but could hear his tail dragging along the concrete and the occasional grunt. Attracted by the light from the kitchen, a cicada bashed against the fly-wire screen, making the occupants jump. It bumbled about for a while, until a big green frog that had been patiently sitting on the sill jumped up and devoured it.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Halfway through a biscuit, Romy clutched her chest. ‘What’s that on the wall?’

  Her grandmother peered at it and made a soft murmur of delight. ‘I think it’s a gecko. It won’t hurt you. Oh, look at its little feet …’

  ‘I’ll never sleep with that in the room,’ declared Nina, rising to have a closer look.

  ‘What happened to paradise?’ scoffed Nell.

  ‘No! I like the rest, it’s just the wildlife that gives me the creeps. I shall have to get rid.’ Nina took a glass from a cupboard, and one of the postcards she had bought.

  ‘It’s not the same as a spider,’ warned her mother, she and Romy splitting their sides as Nina proceeded to chase the gecko up and down the walls and floor, finally managing to capture it in the glass.

  ‘Aw no, the poor little thing’s gone blue!’ She immediately freed it outside – though within minutes was to report another atrocity.

  ‘There’s a frog down the loo!’ And, sure enough, the small green inhabitant was clinging to the underside of the rim, and no amount of flushing would dislodge it.

  Deciding to grin and bear it – as must the frog – they finally settled down for the evening.

  ‘Shall we see what’s on the telly?’ Nina turned it on.

  ‘Ah yes, I’ll have to check what day Home and Away’s on,’ said Romy. ‘I’ve had instructions from the girls at home to find out what’s going to happen.’

  ‘How sad is she?’ said Nina to her mother.

  There were some dreadfully tacky adverts, with strident voice-overs, then a documentary. The title had not alerted Nell at first, but within a few moments’ view
ing, she realised its pertinence. She was to sit anaesthetised as the narrator related the fate of many child migrants who had come from the orphanages of England, to be beaten, worked like slaves, and worst of all sexually abused. All at once, this heaven on earth became hell.

  Watching her mother shrink visibly before her, Nina reached out a supportive hand. ‘It doesn’t mean William went through that, Mam, they always beat these horror stories up. it was probably only a small percentage of the hundreds who came.’

  ‘No, I realise that …’ Nell tried to shake off her mantle of horror, to convince herself he was not amongst them. ‘But those poor little devils, how they must have suffered.’

  ‘He was a teenager when he came over,’ chipped in Romy. ‘And a big strong lad, probably, from what you’ve told me about his dad. Bullies normally pick on smaller kids.’

  Nell acknowledged all of this with a movement of her head, but she was very contemplative. ‘Even so, it doesn’t stop the fear. All these years, these decades, when children went missing or were murdered, my heart would stop, thinking, What if it’s him? Then I’d realise how silly I was being, because William would be years older than those poor kids. It couldn’t possibly be him. But they were somebody’s babies all the same …’

  ‘Turn it off now, Rome.’ ordered her mother.

  ‘Watch it if you like,’ said Nell, as cheerfully as she could. ‘I think I’ll go to bed and read.’

  Nell didn’t sleep much, owing in some part to the humidity, but also the programme which preyed on her mind throughout the night. Nina had apparently slept little too, though due to an entirely different cause.

  ‘Bloody birds woke me up at the crack of dawn! Sounded just like a herd of zebras – heehaw, heehaw!’

  ‘Zebras don’t go heehaw!’ laughed Romy.

  ‘Well, that was the that was the noise they made, smart-arse.’

  ‘Grumpy!’ came the rejoinder.

  ‘And look at these bites!’ Nina displayed a collection of large swellings on her arms and legs, one so distended with lymph that it swung from her elbow like a watery bag. ‘I look like the bloody elephant man!’