The Strength of Our Dreams

by Sara Henderson

  As Franz was a few weeks off his solo licence, to get Marlee home from hospital, Ron Lawford, Franz’s instructor, flew down to Bullo and Franz flew the plane into Katherine. It was still early morning when they arrived as Franz and Ron had left the station at very first light, so we took off before the cool air gave away to the heat of the day.

  To ensure a smooth flight with no violent lurches into air pockets for our patient, Franz flew high at eight-thousand feet. When you are flying above the earth amongst massive clouds that tower twenty thousand feet into the air, the feeling is one of awe and privilege at being so close to such massive towers of power, and in some cases destruction. The clouds this morning, however, were friendly, and no ‘Charlie Bravos’ (storm and thunder clouds) were in sight. Just white and silver iridescent balls of cotton wool that looked all the world like they had light bulbs inside them. I do a lot of my best creative thinking when cloud flying and as we only get such cloud formations during the wet—which is the time I write—it fits in nicely.

  Today, however, my thoughts were mainly on Marlee. I was still very worried about her as the Marlee I knew was still not in evidence. I had a smiling Marlee who wasn’t quite sure of what had happened, but the doctor said this was normal. It could take up to ten days of rest before she’d start to be her old self, and another week in bed before she was really on the mend. So I decided to watch her closely, and if I wasn’t satisfied with her progress, we would fly to Darwin for further tests.

  I stared out the window at the clouds and thought some more sober thoughts, this time about myself. I couldn’t remember when I had slept four days straight. The year had been filled with wall-to-wall appointments all around Australia. My problems stemmed from being in popular demand and as I was new to the world of celebrity, I hadn’t learned to say ‘No’. My daily mantra had simply become ‘Just get through to December’. My body had been giving me warning signals and my doctor told me to slow down but he knew that none of the Bullo women knew how to stop working.

  I had the distinct feeling I had just been saved from something dreadful. Every part of me was aching, but I was very conscious that something major was happening in my body.

  Had I just stepped back from plunging over a precipice? All my instincts answered a sober ‘Yes’. If so, why had I been saved? And more mysteriously, what had saved me? I looked over at Marlee asleep with that dreamy smile still lighting up her face, and decided I really do have a guardian angel.

  In this major turning point of my life, I was saved by my Marlee. If her horse hadn’t fallen, I would have surely had a breakdown of some kind, fallen over the edge of the cliff into that black hole of nothingness people descend into when they have nervous breakdowns. I took Marlee’s hand to thank her silently. Without opening her eyes, her lips shaped, ‘Hi Mum,’ and she smiled.

  When I looked out the window again I could see the welcoming cliffs of Bullo River looking back at me, waiting patiently.

  When we got home if I wasn’t sleeping, I would drag myself around to do the bare minimum. I asked Franz to tell all the people calling the station I was away for weeks which took care of hours of phone calls while I slowly regained my mental and physical health.

  Everyone was counting the days to our housekeeper Jacqui’s return, especially the men. But Jacqui wasn’t due back until the 12th December, Marlee was out of action for a few more weeks, so all they had was me.

  Jacqui was at Heytesbury Stud—where she worked before coming to Bullo—for two months to help with the foaling. When she was first asked to do this at the beginning of September her reply was no, as she had a job at Bullo and was too busy. But as the month progressed, Marlee and I could see she was worried about the mares and their foals.

  As the calls increased with discussions about a particular mare, or problems with another pregnancy, we could see we had to let her go and care for the horses that needed her. It was devastating for us, but we knew how much we loved our animals and without a doubt Jacqui loved the mares she had left back at Heytesbury, just outside of Perth, as if they were her own.

  Marlee was doing all the exercises the physio at the hospital had given her, but the shoulder was getting worse. So Franz took her off to Darwin to see our doctor.

  I continued to hibernate, sleeping day and night, only surfacing to cook a meal now and again for poor Gordon. The night Marlee and Franz arrived back, I really got my act together and baked a leg of lamb with all the trimmings, and Gordon who’d been eating steak and chips every meal was in seventh heaven. But as much as you never get tired of compliments about your cooking, I was counting the days until Jacqui returned, so I could get out of the kitchen.

  I only had one more week at home then it was off to Sydney again for a conference, and to finish the book recording. The phone had been running hot with requests for me to go places. And as hard as it was for me to refuse, as some of the requests were for really worthy causes, I steeled myself and learned to say ‘No’ without feeling guilty. Whenever I started to weaken, I would remember the jibbering mess I was back in October and then could say ‘No’ quite easily.

  I received a call from my booking agent asking me to do a conference on the 25th November and I said ‘No’.

  ‘But you have two free days before you go home,’ came the reply.

  ‘No I don’t,’ I replied quietly.

  ‘Yes you do, I have your schedule here in front of me and you have the 25th and the 26th free.’

  ‘What you have in front of you on the computer is my working schedule. I do not have the 25th and the 26th free.’ I waited. I was still a long way from being well and those two days were for resting. But being young she thought otherwise.

  ‘Ahhh, I see,’ came the knowing reply. ‘Well, have a great time! I’ll tell the people you are not available … for speaking!’ She assumed I was having a romantic weekend, well I could have rallied energy for that! Unfortunately it would just be an uninteresting rest period, but I didn’t bother explaining this.

  I arrived in Sydney late in the afternoon, spoke at the conference at lunchtime the following day and had dinner with my publisher. I could feel a change in myself, not a major one, but I was definitely more on the ball with what was happening around me, not vague and just smiling. But the big test would be the recording session the following day.

  It was just over four weeks since recording the last session with all the breaking down and walking around the building. The change in me in that short period of time was amazing. I had a few emotional parts, but on the whole the session went very well—much to my relief and, I am sure, of everyone else present. It was such a success we rerecorded some of the second taping and the very beginning where my voice sounded too formal and nervous.

  I left for home on the 28 November, having refused many Christmas parties, speeches for school break-ups and fund-raising functions. I had to take care of myself and that would take months, not weeks. Although December was going to be fairly busy, I didn’t have to travel anywhere for the whole month! But only because I had said that little word ‘No’ about twenty times in the last few weeks of November.

  CHAPTER 2

  December 1993 – January 1994

  It was December and hot. Storms with amazing cloud formations were the order of the day. December and January are also the rainbow and butterfly months on Bullo River.

  Mostly at sunrise and sunset beautiful rainbows form in the north-east corner of the valley. And butterflies float through the house, resting on a chair, on a picture frame, on the top of a tomato sauce bottle.

  However there are drawbacks to wet season. This is the time we get bugs by the thousands, mosquitoes by the millions and just about every other thing that flies or crawls. But this year despite the heat, the bugs, the mosquitoes, it was bliss because I didn’t have to travel for a month.

  I settled down to writing and sharing the cooking with Marlee who was back to her bright and cheerful self—it was now only twelve days till Jacqui would be
back! We were counting the days until we could hand the house back to her, and were very busy cleaning as the house certainly had not had the loving care Jacqui gave it. Despite all this work, when Jacqui returned she soon had it up to ‘J’ standard and regular meals became the norm again, making Franz very happy.

  Marlee’s shoulder was still giving her lots of pain, but we both knew the recovery period would be a long haul. The doctor had told Marlee this, and we both remembered when I had a similar injury years before, and many times Marlee had to lift a roast into the oven for me, because my shoulder just wouldn’t work. The tissue damage in my shoulder never really healed and this is very evident when I have a massage and that shoulder has more clicks and clacks than my whole body put together.

  We were heading into a busy Christmas, with Danielle and Martin arriving on the 23rd and an Austrian invasion—Herman, Gepherdt and Gunther, three of Franz’s friends, were coming to experience an Outback Christmas.

  Sometime during the first three weeks of December Marlee and I made the yearly road trek to Darwin to do the Christmas shopping. The station wagon and the poor old one-tonne trailer were loaded down to the springs and it was a very slow trip home. With a house full of family and friends and staff helping with the hay planting, we had quite a load of food and presents to haul back from town.

  I did many Christmas radio interviews throughout three states. I was asked about the weather, what work we did at this time of the year, did we celebrate Christmas Day the same as people down south. It was strange to be asked these questions; it felt as if we were living on the moon. But I suppose if they had read about my first Christmas on Bullo with the stuffed grey, boiled ox heart on a tin plate, people might think we are a different race.

  All the interviews got around to asking me to say words of encouragement to people on the land and to people in general. In December 1993 there wasn’t much hope or enthusiasm around, as the country didn’t seem to be going anywhere. So I did my best to ignite the Christmas spirit. I was well on the road to rest and recovery and so had good reason to feel optimistic. I had family, love, friends, a beautiful home, rain and feed for the animals—almost everything a person could wish for. But I was acutely aware that lots of people had nothing and faced a bleak Christmas knowing no cheer. So my Christmas wish was for these people.

  I did have one reason to feel sorry for myself during December. It was time to pay Trippe’s legal fees following the judgement handed down by the appeal court. In 1986, only weeks after my Charlie had died, his cousin, Gus Trippe, sued me for half a million dollars for late delivery of cattle. This was in accordance with a deal signed by him and Charlie—a settlement of all their business dealings over decades. How unfair this ruling was I won’t go into, and years later I still smoulder over this. But I am not alone, so many people have shared with me their miserable encounters with our legal system. As one lawyer had the blatant audacity to say to me when I asked him the question, ‘Do you call that fair, do you call that justice?’: ‘You do not go to court for justice you go to court for the financial settlement of a dispute.’

  I accepted the inevitable and parted with our hard-earned cash to pay legal fees. I had already paid out the amount the court handed down in the judgement—not half a million, thank heavens, but just over a quarter of a million dollars. Now it was time to pay his legal fees, along with my own, which eventually brought the amount back to half a million dollars! Then another disaster struck: Marlee’s beloved dog Hunter was diagnosed with cancer. After such a lovely Christmas, these two events made it a very sad farewell to 1993 indeed.

  As sad as I was at losing Hunter, Marlee was devastated. He was a wonderful dog and her soulmate for so long. Franz had taken him to town to the vet because he had a bad tooth, but it turned out to be cancer of the jaw. On a very sad phone call, Marlee and I cried as she agreed it would be best to have him put to sleep at the surgery. Franz was very thoughtful and brought him home in the plane and buried him in our cemetery here on Bullo along with my Jedda and all our other animals.

  Looking at my 1994 diary had my thoughts immediately turning to my health and my continued desire to keep on the road to recovery. Already I had too many conference bookings, along with book tours for Australia and New Zealand, and all the publicity that goes with the launch of a new book. So in January I would start saying ‘No’ to any other engagements for 1994.

  I read somewhere it takes a supertanker eight miles to turn around or to come to a halt in the water, such is its weight and forward motion once it gets going. Well I equate trying to get my life under control to a supertanker trying to turn around or stop—it is a mammoth job! It ended up taking all of three years before I achieved this objective to a healthy satisfaction. The most important thing I learned was to watch the engagements booked for twelve and eighteen months ahead.

  It is sometimes hard for people to understand why I am not available eighteen months down the track. But after I patiently explain a few of my commitments, they are usually very sympathetic.

  And then they promptly ask if they can book me two and a half years ahead!

  As sad as the end of 1993 was, we were looking forward to a better year in 1994. Although the sadness of losing Hunter lingered for Marlee, we did have a lively New Year’s Eve with friends and some of the staff staying on over the wet season to help with the hay planting.

  New Year’s Day was very hot, so there was very little movement around the homestead with animals and people seeking out the coolest spot—usually the same place. So man and beast could be found scattered at regular intervals around the homestead, both snoring soundly through the heat of the day.

  The 2nd was Danielle’s birthday, and she and Martin were finally on their way to New Zealand for their honeymoon. They were married in Darwin in September on Charlie’s birthday. It was a wonderful event despite a certain amount of tension in the air. My daughter Bonnie and her husband Arthur had recently published very nasty articles in a gossip weekly and made some very heartbreaking statements. After Charlie died Bonnie sued me for what she claimed were wages due. I could handle the monetary aspect of this, but when she testified in court against me I found it hard to forgive her. These two heartbreaking events were followed by petty articles in the gossip magazines so they were not my favourite couple.

  Fraser, one of Charlie’s sons living in America, came over to give Danielle away. I had not heard from him since 1986 when, after his father’s death, he called from America to ask me if I had a new will Charlie had written which disinherited me and left everything to him and the rest of the children. When I asked him if indeed Charlie had written this new will, did he really think Charlie would give it to me, the stupidity of his question finally dawned on him. Besides, I informed him, Charlie had no assets in his name, except the sailing boat. Everything else was in the company’s name and that had belonged to me since 1964.

  He then said he would like a share of the money from the sale of the boat. I told him gladly, if he also took a share of the debts his father left. He wasn’t interested in honouring his father’s debts, but he did have a Sydney lawyer contact Charlie’s lawyer and ask about this new will. He was told the only will on hand was the one Charlie had signed in their office and they knew of no other. The lawyer requested a copy of the will and was told, as Fraser was not part of the will, he would not be able to see a copy unless the trustee gave permission. As I was the trustee of the estate, he knew he wouldn’t have much luck going down that road. So as you can imagine, our greeting at the wedding was extremely formal.

  So there we all were, together to celebrate Danielle and Martin’s wedding smiling and being polite. I don’t think I would have gone through all that stress for anyone but Danielle. I was determined not to do anything to spoil her wedding day. I think everyone tried very hard, but each day presented difficult situations to overcome. We made it through a dreadfully strained family dinner the night before the wedding and I know Danielle was worried someone might exp
lode. After we’d made it through the dinner without telling each other exactly what we thought, I am sure she worried her whole wedding day that the explosion might still come. But, I am happy to say, the wedding went smoothly and it was a very successful day.

  Franz and Marlee usually handled the hay planting, but after increasing the acreage in recent years it had become quite a job. It was too difficult to complete all the ploughing and planting in the short time available before the rains made the ground too wet to work. So we were lucky this year that some of our budding stockmen were also very good farmers, and had decided to stay on. This meant both Marlee and Franz had a rest from the midnight ‘red-eye’ tractor driving shift.

  The help was also valuable for another reason. Our fanning equipment, well-used and second-hand when we bought it in the eighties, was now showing definite signs of wear. Franz spent about as much time in the workshop patching and replacing parts as he did ploughing, so to have extra help made his job so much easier. He repaired breakdowns while the men kept the farming moving along at a regular pace. We knew that next year new machinery would have to be part of the budget.

  The days were filled with ploughing, planting and the major pastime, scaring the cockatoos away from the paddocks. They had to be stopped from digging up the seeds the first ten days or so after planting, then again after the young seedlings poked their heads through the soil. If not kept at bay, the cockatoos walk along the rows of new plants, pull them out, then drop them on the ground, not even bothering to eat them, just leaving them to die. It is destruction in its purest form. If left to their own devices, they can destroy a whole crop as they descend onto a field in the thousands at first light of daybreak, every day!