by Nunn, Judy
‘I am prepared to do so, yes.’
‘There will be much anger.’
‘Yes, there will be.’
It was Alan who then brought up the subject of Luigi’s position at Elianne. What if his father chose to become vindictive? But Luigi shrugged off any concern. Ego did not dictate his complacency, as Alan himself well knew. There was not a mill owner in the entire region who would not beg for the services of Luigi Fiorelli. And when Alan queried the position of his brothers, so reliant upon Elianne for the crushing of their cane, the answer to that also was simple. The brothers were highly successful growers. They needed the mill certainly, but the mill needed their cane.
‘The mill, she is a monster, she need constant feeding,’ Luigi said.
The more they talked the more Alan’s hopes soared. Luigi was prepared for the consequences – come what may, he was clearly not going to contest the match.
And the more they talked the more Luigi thought of all it was that Alan was prepared to sacrifice. Stanley Durham was a hard man who might well disinherit his son, Alan would surely know that. Luigi did not worry for Paola’s future should this happen, of course. Alan Durham was gifted. He did not need his father’s wealth. This young man is prepared to forego his wealth and his religion, Luigi thought. My daughter has done well to win such a love.
‘You have my blessing,’ he said. The two stood and embraced. ‘Welcome to my family.’
Hugs were shared all round and Alan presented Paola with the ring that he’d bought her. It seemed right to do so formally in the presence of her parents.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she whispered as he slipped it on her finger. The gemstone was her favourite, as he had well known, a deep violet amethyst that was set simply in a ring of white gold. She had not wanted a diamond.
They agreed they would not flaunt their engagement, that for now she would keep the ring out of sight. She would thread it beside the crucifix that she wore at all times on a chain about her neck. She didn’t mind in the least.
‘It’ll be closer to my heart there anyway,’ she said with a laugh and she kissed him. Paola finally felt safe.
In the Durham household over the remaining week or so of Alan’s holiday, no further mention was made of the suggested engagement. Stan had forbidden any discussion on the subject. While Alan openly courted Paola, taking her to the pictures and dancing at the Palais, Stan, steely-faced and determined, ignored the entire issue.
‘He’s either turning a ridiculously blind eye to the fact that I’m serious,’ Alan said to Kate and Neil, ‘or he’s assuming we’re sleeping together and that I’ll get her out of my system.’ Alan had confided in his brother and sister, but he’d said nothing to his mother of his acceptance by the Fiorellis for fear of the trouble it might cause her. ‘God, he’s a cantankerous bastard!’
The general exodus started in early January. Neil was the first to leave and over breakfast on the morning of his departure he made an announcement that took the others by surprise.
‘I’ve been transferred to 4RAR at Lieutenant Colonel Greville’s request,’ he said, which wasn’t exactly truthful. In trying to return to Vietnam as soon as possible he’d had to pull strings, in fact he’d had virtually to beg. Greville had finally accepted him into the battalion because he was a veteran of the Battle of Long Tan and his presence would prove invaluable among the new national servicemen.
‘So what’s that mean?’ Alan asked.
‘It means I leave for Vietnam in the middle of the year and I’d like to get the family farewells over and done with now while we’re all here together,’ he said. ‘I won’t come home before I’m posted, it’s tidier this way.’ They all looked at him in astonishment. ‘It’s no big deal,’ he said, aware that he’d shocked them. ‘I’ll be seeing you in Brisbane, Alan, and Dad, you’d be busy as hell here anyway with the start of the crushing, and Mum, I’ll ring regularly, I promise. And I’ll ring you too, Kate, like I always do. It’s better this way, don’t you reckon?’
‘If that’s what you want, son.’ Stan cleared his throat, a little caught out. ‘Your decision of course. If that’s what you want.’
‘That’s what I want.’
An hour or so later farewells were made on the front verandah, Hilda bravely refusing to cry or even reach for her handkerchief, but her feelings so evident she might as well have been sobbing, while Stan, gruffer than ever, fought with little success to disguise the depth of his emotion.
‘Stay safe, son,’ he said, clapping Neil heavy-handedly on the back as they embraced.
‘Sure, Dad.’ Neil then hugged his mother. ‘I’ll ring you next week, Mum, I promise. See you in Brisbane, Alan,’ he said with a wave and then he was down the front steps and into the passenger seat of the Holden, where Kate was waiting behind the wheel, Cobber and Ben in the back.
‘Christ I hate goodbyes,’ he said as they drove off, his parents waving from the front verandah as they always did.
Kate kept herself in check when they arrived at the station.
‘Don’t get out,’ he said as he lifted his kitbag from the boot.
She wanted to. She wanted to get out and say ‘Where’s my hug?’ but she didn’t. ‘You will give me a ring from time to time, won’t you,’ she said instead.
‘Course I will, regular as clockwork.’ He put his hand through the open window and tousled her hair the way he used to when they were kids in order to annoy her. It didn’t annoy her now. She loved it. ‘Thanks for the lift, Sis.’ Then he walked off into the station. She waited, ready to give a wave if he looked back, but he didn’t.
Alan was the next to leave. He received a pleasant enough farewell from his father, a perfunctory hug and a slap on the shoulder.
‘Look after yourself, son,’ Stan said. Stan was prepared to forgive and forget. There’d been no further mention of that silly engagement business and while the boy was squiring the Fiorelli girl around town they were presumably sleeping together. Let him have his fun, Stan thought, so long as he’s careful. Surprising Luigi hasn’t put his foot down though.
Stan and Hilda remained on the front verandah ready to wave as the car drove off while Kate and the dogs accompanied Alan to the Holden, Cobber and Ben waiting expectantly, eager to be invited into the back.
‘Sit,’ Kate ordered, and they did, obedient but dejected, aware they were not to be included on this trip. ‘Take all the time you want, Al,’ she said quietly. ‘Go through each of them slowly: there’s a lot of material to absorb.’
The boot of Alan’s car was stacked with the ledgers and a matching folder for each containing the pages of Kate’s meticulously typed translation. She and Alan had transferred the lot from the boot of her Holden to his just the previous day. Although he would be unable to read the original ledgers, Kate had decided to include them by way of authentication.
‘I found them under the house three years ago,’ she’d explained, ‘Grandmother Ellie’s diaries, or rather her scribblings, as she called them. They’re in French, the translations have taken me over two years, and I want you to read them. I need your opinion.’
He’d registered her seriousness. ‘My opinion about what?’ he’d asked.
‘About whether or not we should show them to Dad,’ she’d said. ‘Or any other member of the family for that matter.’
‘But surely we should.’ Alan had been mystified. ‘Hell, Grandmother Ellie’s diaries! Mum’ll be over the moon!’
‘No she won’t.’ Kate had decided to give her brother no preconceptions of what to expect, apart from a warning. ‘You’re in for some shocks, Al.’
‘Call me when you’ve finished them,’ she now said as he climbed into the Holden. ‘I’ll come up to Brisbane during a term break and we’ll discuss what to do.’
‘Right you are.’
Kate joined her parents on the verandah and they all waved at the Holden as it pulled out of the main drive and set off along the dirt track towards the Bundaberg–Gin Gin Road, Alan’s h
and waving back at them through the open window.
It was in the last week of January that Kate left for Sydney. She could have stayed for at least another fortnight, but she wanted to do some preparation before the start of first term, she told her parents. This was to be the fifth and final year of her Vet Science course, although if everything went according to plan she intended to continue to a PhD.
In truth, Kate didn’t need to prepare for first term, but she was ready to return to Sydney. Elianne seemed empty without her brothers. When Neil and Alan were there she could return to her childhood. All three of them could. But without her brothers things weren’t quite the same.
So much has changed, she thought as she watched her grandfather asleep, remembering the capable man she’d known throughout her early years. Bartholomew had been the backbone of Elianne. Not loud and showy like his son, but quiet, hardworking and diligent, a man of great dignity.
Kate had popped in to her grandfather’s quarters to say goodbye, but she was loath to wake him, he looked so peaceful sleeping in his armchair. Will he still be here on my next trip home? she wondered. Or is this possibly the last time I’ll see him?
Bartholomew’s fragility was such these days that the family had discussed whether or not they should send word to his daughter in Canada, but when they’d suggested the idea to Bartholomew himself, he’d been adamantly against it. He’d even written a note to his son, his spidery hand delivering an unequivocal command.
Julia lives on the other side of the world, he’d written. She has a family of her own. Under no circumstances is she to be given cause to worry or feel duty-bound to rush to my bedside.
Stan had found the note irritating. ‘God almighty, Dad, if you cark it Julia’ll come over for your funeral anyway,’ he’d bluntly stated, but Bartholomew’s response had been a shrug that said what will be will be, and the subject had been discussed no further.
Kate studied her grandfather now, so serene in his sleep. She wanted to kiss him, but she didn’t. Instead, she walked quietly away, turning back at the door.
‘Goodbye, Grandpa,’ she whispered, just in case it might be for the last time.
To her surprise, his eyes opened. He smiled to see her standing there, and raising a frail hand to his lips he blew her a kiss. Then he closed his eyes once again and went back to sleep. Kate left feeling inexplicably happy.
‘Hello, Kate. What an amazing coincidence.’ Venner was propped against the partition of the alcove when she returned carrying the armload of books she’d ferretted from the library’s shelves. ‘Fancy bumping into you like this,’ he said in wide-eyed innocence.
Kate couldn’t help but smile. Sydney University’s newly completed Fisher Library was a well-known assignation point. Students would leave their recognisable belongings in the one-person alcove they’d chosen for their study time in order that the intended person of interest would know where to find them. This had not been Kate’s aim at all, but Venner had clearly sought out her voluminous trademark worn-leather shoulder bag and had been lying in wait for her return.
‘What do you want, Venner?’ She kept her voice down, respectful of the several other students who were studying in similar open cubicles nearby.
‘I was wondering if you’re going to tomorrow’s SRC meeting,’ he said.
‘Of course I am. I always do. You know that.’ She dumped the armload of books onto the desk.
‘Just thought I’d check to be sure because we’re going to be bringing up the subject of union amalgamation and I know how important that is to you.’
The Students’ Representative Council consisted of male and female members, but the student unions were gender based. The women’s union held little sway, all things pertaining to union issues being virtually run by the male students, a fact which the feminists naturally considered the height of inequality. There had for some time now been attempts to amalgamate the two unions, but as yet to no avail.
‘Yes, I know we’re going to be discussing the possibility of amalgamation,’ Kate said, studying him suspiciously. Of course she would know such a thing, and of course he would know that she would know: she was one of the prime advocates. What was Venner after?
‘I intend to offer you my full support, Kate.’
‘Excellent, that’s great.’ She was pleased – quite a number of the male union members were coming on board lately. Good, she thought, it’ll be only a matter of time. ‘I’ll see you at the meeting then,’ she said and she sat, opening one of the library books.
‘You’re not going to study now, surely.’
‘Why not?’
Venner checked his Omega wristwatch, as always so out of keeping with his tattered T-shirt, which Kate suddenly noticed bore the slogan Equal Rights for Women.
‘Because it’s one o’clock and it’s lunchtime,’ he said, ‘and I think we should discuss a plan of action over fish and chips at the refectory.’
He’s making a play, Kate thought. How typical of Venner and how silly of me not to have realised. The whole thing’s a line. The SRC meeting, the union amalgamation, and above all the T-shirt. He doesn’t give a damn about women’s rights.
‘I take it Isobel’s no longer on the scene,’ she said drily, recalling that she hadn’t seen the two of them together for some time.
‘That’s right. She’s a lovely person, Izz, really lovely, but not quite the right sort of girl for me, I’m afraid.’ He’d dumped Izz way back in early October and there’d been another girl since then, but he’d dumped her also. No one matched up to Kate Durham. ‘So is it lunch and a plan of attack?’ He gave the charismatic smile that had once caused Kate’s heart to skip a beat, as it still did many a female heart.
But Jeremy Venecourt’s charisma no longer worked on Kate. You’re such a phoney, Venner, she thought, not without a touch of affection for the old days, but with no interest at all in rekindling the passion. She was about to say a simple ‘no thanks’ and return to her studies when an idea crossed her mind. Venner had always made a point of knowing everything about everyone connected with every imaginable cause. He would surely know something about the mystery surrounding Frank Madigan.
Kate continued to find Frank baffling. Twice in the latter half of the previous year she’d created ‘chance meetings’, both of which she’d sensed Frank had found as pleasurable and stimulating as she had. Upon the first meeting he’d again invited her into his shop where Alice had served coffee and they’d talked. The second time, she’d boldly suggested they save Alice the trouble and go to a nearby coffee shop, which they’d done, again very much enjoying each other’s company. But on neither occasion as they’d parted had he suggested another meeting. She’d decided to stop being pushy: it wasn’t dignified. The man was not interested and was obviously just being polite. She should leave him alone.
But then there’d been the meeting that really had happened by chance, the week before she’d left on her Christmas holidays. He’d invited her back to the shop, clearly eager to talk, and that was when they’d had their passionate discussion about Harold Holt and the Migration Policy and she’d been left intrigued all over again. Why was Frank Madigan, who obviously found her interesting, keeping his distance in such a manner? Was he married? Was that it?
Kate had never been one to choose the devious path, but the thought now occurred that perhaps two could play at Venner’s game.
‘Lunch and a plan of attack it is then,’ she said, and they left the study area together, each with a different agenda in mind.
Kate signed the library books out at the front counter, piling them into the large leather shoulder bag, which Venner gallantly insisted upon carrying.
‘Are you sure?’ she queried as they stepped outside into the courtyard, where on the opposite side of the car park huge Moreton Bay figs faced off the impressive jacaranda that stood beside the library. ‘I have to warn you, you’re bound to be noticed. That bag may not be a thing of beauty, but it’s distinctly female.’
> He tapped his chest. ‘I’d say given the T-shirt it’s rather apt,’ he said.
They crossed the broad lawn that fronted the grand sandstone edifice where lion statues guarded entrances, and once inside the portals they cut through the main Quadrangle with its grassy central square, its towers and paved walkways and surrounding stone buildings. So much of Sydney University was so very beautiful.
Taking a short cut through the Vice Chancellor’s Quad, they headed for the sprawl of buildings known simply as ‘The Union’, one of the major student venues that housed several eateries. They decided against the refectory, however. The refectory and the buttery, both popular dining places, were crowded, so they opted to eat outside in the courtyard instead, greeting and being greeted by others they knew, but refusing offers to join them. Venner quickly seized upon a table for two and they settled with their choices of fare, his being fish and chips and Kate’s a pie with tomato sauce. At home she dined for the most part on salads and fruit to make up for all the rubbish she ate at Uni.
Venner dropped the pretence of a discussion about student union amalgamation. There was no particular ‘plan of attack’ they could follow anyway, as both well knew, and he presumed her agreement to join him for lunch was a definite display of interest on her part.
‘So tell me, Kate,’ he said casually enough, but with obvious intent, ‘any particular person in your life?’
‘Nope,’ she replied, concentrating on her pie, ‘not interested.’
‘Right.’ He noted the briskness of her tone and took it as a warning. Don’t come on too strong too soon, Venner, he told himself. ‘All work as usual, I see.’ He gave her a friendly smile and tucked into his fish and chips.
They chomped away in comfortable silence for a minute or so before he made further conversation. ‘This is your final year, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘What are your plans when you leave? Join a veterinary practice?’ He grinned cheekily. ‘Open one of your own with a little help from sugar-cane-king daddy?’ The remark was not a dig, but rather a reminder of their familiarity.