“This is so good of you,” she said, walking out to meet her.
Ella handed over the parcel. “If it works I’ll make a fresh batch. The lard was a little smelly but it won’t stop the salve working. I brought these.” She pulled two cotton bags from her pocket. “They have drawstrings so when you thicken the salve on tonight, wear them tied around your wrist like a glove. It will help the mixture work.”
“Wonderful! How thoughtful you are dear, I’m not used to such consideration. Now, come, sit down. You must be hungry and thirsty. I made a lemon pie today in your honor. And of course, there’s my cold lime cordial.”
Ella laughed. “I can’t wait to try it. In the shop I’ve heard people praise it many times.”
Over the delicious pie, Ella exclaimed on the pure quality of the cool drink. “I have never tasted anything quite like it, Mrs. Kettler!”
“Please, you must call me Dorothy. I wouldn’t want you to slip into calling me ‘Ma’ like everyone else does…which they think I have no idea about, by the way. But no, getting back to the drink…” She studied the contents of her glass. “It is unique. Come, I’ll show you where I make it.”
Across the yard Dorothy led the way into a large barn. In the heat, the intensified smell of crate upon crate of limes and lemons stacked along the walls was intoxicating. In the center of the building on a raised stone slab sat two large pails, full of juice and covered with muslin.
“My goodness! You squeeze all these by hand?”
“I do,” Dorothy said wryly. “Hence my poor skin.”
Ella picked up the wooden, ridged pointed squeezer and spoke without thinking. “There must surely be a utensil heavier than this…something capable of doing the job without the juice coming in contact with your hands? Oh!” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Do forgive my rudeness.”
Dorothy laughed. “Please don’t apologize for making a perfectly sensible suggestion! In fact I like your reasoning, but no, there’s nothing else that I’m aware of. The problem I have now,” Dorothy said, gazing around at the stacked crates, “is that I’m beginning to feel I’ve created a monster with the dratted stuff. More and more is wanted and in truth, I’m really not capable of delivering the amounts I’m asked for. I suppose I shall eventually have to take on more workers, but I’m not a very social person as I’m sure you’ll soon find out, so I don’t really want that.”
“Indeed,” Ella murmured. “I can quite see your point.”
Dorothy sighed. “It is very hard work, and I have been thinking for some time now that I should perhaps retire to town, let a younger person take the business on…someone shrewd, with new ideas. I shall be sixty-two this year, how much longer I can go on producing the cordial, I don’t know. My neighbor would willingly take it off my hands, but that’s another story.”
Ella nodded. Picking up a lime she scraped it with her nail, sniffed the skin, and smiled. “Lovely,” she said, a stir of excitement bubbling through her as a thought struck. What, she wondered, would it cost to own this place?
“How many acres of orchard are there, did you say?”
“Three, and of course, I have the prize!”
Ella, looking up, saw the glint in Dorothy’s dark eyes. “The prize?”
“Come, I’ll show you.”
They walked through neat lines of laden lime and lemon trees, stopping where the land started to slope away, and Ella gasped. Before her was a large shimmering blue lake, sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine.
Dorothy nodded with satisfaction. “Beautiful, isn’t it? It comes from a natural underground spring which has never run dry. It’s why I have such abundant fruits. Without it citrus trees would suffer, they need lots of water. It’s pumped up, can you see?”
“I can.” Ella’s pulse raced with anticipation. The trickle of an idea had been buzzing in her head since picking up the piece of fruit, and it refused to go away. “Dorothy, this may sound outspoken from a person you barely know, but I have no other way of putting it.” She bit her lip, anxious, excited.
“Go on. I’m all ears…now that they’re better!”
Ella smiled. “I haven’t been in the country long but love it already. I harbor no wishes to return to England, yet my position at the chemist is not permanent so I shall have to find another means of income at some stage. I know we have only spent a short time together but what you said…about selling this place…” She stopped, catching her lip between her teeth.
I have gone too far!
Dorothy frowned. “Carry on.”
“Well, you see I feel I’ve stumbled on what I think could be the ideal investment for me.” Smoothing a hand down her skirt, Ella felt the reassuring bulk of the bag. “Please don’t think me presumptuous, I am after all almost a stranger to you, but I have a request to put to you, Dorothy.”
“Oh? I can’t wait to hear.”
“It is this. If you haven’t yet decided on whether or not to sell your business, I would dearly love the opportunity to offer for Woomba…before you put it to the market.”
Dorothy glanced at the gold ring Ella was twisting around. “You’re married, yet you appear able to make such a momentous decision alone?”
Ella sighed. “I see no point in trying to hide anything from you. I was widowed a few weeks ago on the journey here. My husband left me financially secure, which is why I’m in the position to offer for your orchard.”
“Oh, my dear. I’m so sorry!”
“I am not…grief-stricken, Dorothy. Sad, yes, and at first scared of what the future might hold. Does that sound callous coming from someone who has so recently lost a husband?”
“I have never been married so cannot judge, nor would I.”
Ella’s gaze turned to the vista of the blue lake against a backdrop of lush greenery. “I married for reasons which had nothing to do with love,” she said quietly. “Other than the love I felt for my poor dear parents…Mother died shortly before I left England, I do not understand, nor have ever felt, love for a man at all.”
“Ah, that I think is truly lamentable. To be in a loveless marriage, and at such a young age. But you are an extremely attractive young woman, Ella. It will happen one day, of that I’m sure.”
“I doubt it very much. I find I cherish this freedom too much now. I never want to be beholden to man again, for whatever reason.” She looked at Dorothy. “Will you give consideration to my offer?”
“Woomba. I think you’re bright enough to have seen that the business is hard work, but I detect in you a will of iron, I see a fire burning in your eyes right now with the excitement of a new venture.” She nodded, satisfied. “I think you might do well here, Ella. Give me a few days to think about it, but yes, I think we will be able to arrange a deal to suit us both, and I will be content, happy that my hard labor here will be in good hands.”
»»•««
Later that week in the bank manager’s office in a fine three-story building on Grenfell Street, Ella placed nine hundred and fifty pounds in white fivers from her precious stash on Tom Walton’s desk. He didn’t speak, but clearly perturbed, coughed nervously.
“Tom?” Dorothy looked at him. “I’ve known you a long time. What’s wrong?”
“Mrs. Kettler, I have had instructions from a client of mine. Were your property ever to be brought to the market, he expressly wished me to outbid the buyer,” he said, leaning forward hands with his spread on the desk, “which I offer to do now on his behalf.”
Ella gasped, and Dorothy patted her hand. “Tosh, Tom Walton. The property is mine to do with as I please, and I am selling it to Mrs. Bickerstaff. I trust you will pass that information on to your, shall we say, persistent, client.”
Tom Walton, his face creased in a frown and clearly agitated, sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing!”
Dorothy snorted. “Of course I do. Now, can we sign the documents?”
In the ensuing, tense silence, documents were signed, and Ella received from Dorothy the title de
ed to Woomba Fruit Farm.
Ella rose, leaned across the desk, and shook the bank manager’s hand.
“Good luck, Mrs. Bickerstaff,” he said, a rueful smile on his face. “Today’s decision will cause quite some upset!”
Dorothy looked at him. “Fiddlesticks, Tom,” she said.
Unperturbed by the exchange, Ella folded the deed and followed Dorothy out of the office.
On the steps, she turned to kiss her warmly. “You must let me buy afternoon tea to celebrate. Where do you suggest?”
“Martin’s Dining Room at the corner. I can introduce you to him. He buys my…” Dorothy laughed. “I beg your pardon, Ella, your cordial!”
In the pleasantly appointed dining room waiting for their order to arrive, Dorothy explained how she transported the juice into town.
“I use the large covered pails on the back of the cart which isn’t ideal. My part of the track is so badly rutted in places I lose a lot of juice, which means I have to put less in, hence more journeys.”
“Mm,” Ella mused. “I shall relish the challenge, Dorothy. There will be other ways and means of transport I’m sure.”
Dorothy suddenly reached across the table and touched Ella’s hand.
“There is one thing I omitted to tell you. Tom made reference to it, though now I know you well, I have no fear of it being a real problem for you.”
“Oh?”
“The farm abutting yours is owned by a young man, Lucas Helm and I know it is he who instructed Tom to outbid all other offers. He has something of a nasty past I hear, though I’ve never been able to find out what, however, the reason I mention him is because he has been badgering me to sell to him for years. He plans to double his herd and so needs a constant water supply. In high summer droughts here can be hard for farmers if water runs low, so you can see how attractive Woomba must seem to him?”
“But if he’s your neighbor, why wouldn’t you sell to him?”
Dorothy sighed. “Oh, something happened a long time ago between a man from Glen Ayre called Brendon Rogers and my grandmother. The result of their actions—Grandmother ran away leaving two young children and a husband who finally drank himself to death—caused so much heartache to my family through the years I could never look kindly on anyone from that place.”
“But this Lucas Helm has no connection with that other family?”
“He said not, but I can’t believe it. You see, he tried to hoodwink us all by saying he was new to this country, when in fact he can’t have been. Tubby Rogers who previously owned Glen Ayre left it to Lucas in his will. Now, you wouldn’t do that to anyone other than family, would you?”
“I suppose not. So if it was Tubby’s ancestor who ran off with your grandmother, then Lucas Helm is related to him somehow, and is the reason you wouldn’t sell?”
“Exactly! You got it in one. Anyway, I told him he’d never get his hands on Woomba and he hasn’t. You have. Ah, here’s Martin with the cakes. They are so scrumptious.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Kettler.” Martin, a string bean of a man with bright ginger hair and moustache, set down a plate of daintily decorated sponges.
Dorothy introduced him to Ella. “The new owner of Woomba, Martin. I feel she has beneficial new ideas for production.”
Martin took her hand. “I’m delighted to meet you, Mrs. Bickerstaff. May I offer my condolences on your recent widowhood. Sad news indeed, but of course, looking to the future, wonderful that you have bought Woomba.” He smiled. “And any new ideas sound good. We run out of the cordial very quickly, there is always a great demand for it.”
When Martin returned to the kitchen Ella turned to Dorothy. Her eyes shone. “I can’t wait to get started. It’s a whole new chapter in my life waiting to begin. Ooh, which of these delightful confections shall I eat first?”
Over a leisurely tea they discussed the move.
“I have my eye on an empty cottage in Bottlebrush Street,” Dorothy said. “I intend purchasing it this very afternoon. If all goes well, I should be able to move into it a week from now. How would you like that?”
“Wonderful! So I could be in Woomba by next Friday?”
Dorothy raised her tea cup. “Indeed you could. Shall we work toward that goal?”
“Most certainly…and thank you for Marmaduke,” Ella said, eyeing the aged donkey tethered up outside, “but would you mind too much if I put him out to grass in the paddock for the remainder of his years?”
“Not at all, he will love it. But transport, dear…?”
“Ah, the amount of juice I intend producing will require an animal much stronger than old Marmaduke. I’m thinking of barrels, bottles, crates. Heavily laden carts would be too much for him.” She tapped her teeth. “Then there is the problem of a finding a supply of glass bottles, plus something more efficient for squeezing the fruit…already I have an idea.”
Dorothy picked up a pink-frosted cake. “You, dear Ella are nothing short of a whirlwind!”
Chapter Four
When Lucas arrived back at his farm in the late afternoon, Jonnie, hearing his shouts, rushed out to take the reins of the tired horses.
“Hey, Lucas!” He peered into the back of the cart. “What fine looking animals. Well done!”
“They sure are good ’uns. Let’s get them all watered and fed, Jonnie. It’s been a long journey and I think we’re all bone weary.”
“Everything’s ready for them. You go see to yourself, I can manage on my own.”
“Okay, I won’t say no. Um.” Lucas paused. “Anything happen while I was away?”
“Nah.” Jonnie untied the harnessed horses. About to lead them to the stables, he stopped and scratched his head. “Oh, yeah. I met Mary in town. She was asking after you as usual, and while we chatted we saw the darndest thing, Boss. Ma Kettler was outside the bank laughing! And being kissed by a woman in a cloak?”
The hairs on the back of Lucas’ neck prickled. “A relative, you think?”
“I reckon. See you tomorrow, Boss.” Jonnie walked the horses into the stables and Lucas wandered to the house. He was exhausted, but—from the window he watched Jonnie come back to the cart and release the three skittish calves, herding them adroitly through the opened gate into the field— he stroked his chin. Something wasn’t right, he could feel it.
He ached like the devil. Stretching his back he yawned, too tired to think anymore. Exhaustion suddenly overtook him, and without lighting the lanterns he fumbled his way into the bedroom and flopped onto the bed without undressing.
»»•««
Ella waited until Mr. Birk had been served his morning tea before tapping on the open office door.
“Come in, come in, Mrs. Bickerstaff. Sit down, my dear. You look,” he said, “slightly pensive this morning.”
Ella smiled. “You know me well! I have news, which I hope won’t be too inconvenient for you.”
“Oh?”
“First of all, may I say how much I appreciate all you’ve done for me since I started working here? You’ve allowed me a free hand and I’ve gained an enormous amount of satisfaction from that…”
“Ah!” William stroked his chin, his gaze on her.
“The thing is I have purchased a business, Mr. Birk, the fruit farm, Woomba.”
“Mrs. Kettler’s place. I see. And so you will be wanting to leave us.”
Ella twisted her hands and nodded. “Please, may I offer my resignation?”
“My dear lady, while I am delighted with your business news, I shall be very sorry to lose your services here, but must it be such a harsh break from us? I wonder?” He leaned forward. “Would you consider staying on, say one morning each week, as a consultant until the new man arrives? As you are well aware, my customers have come to value your advice and remedies highly. I would,” he said quietly, “pay you one guinea for a morning. What do you think?”
Ella smiled, relieved that a solution had been found which pleased him. “Of course, I will. You have been so kind to me. I c
an’t possibly refuse.”
»»•««
The night before her move, Kenneth, the hotel owner, waited until she’d finished her meal before approaching her.
“We shall be sorry to see you leave Mrs. Bickerstaff, good clientele are always appreciated.”
“Well, thank you. I’ve had a most comfortable time here.”
He removed her empty plate. “The carriage and driver are available for your use as long as you need them tomorrow. Good luck with your move. It is,” he added, “a source of great interest in town.”
“Oh. Really? I can’t imagine anything I do could possibly be of interest to anyone. Thank you for the offer of the carriage, Kenneth, it’s very kind of you and I’m much obliged. Good night. Oh, I shan’t want breakfast in the morning.” She smiled. “I shall be far too excited to eat. Thank you for a delightful stay.”
“I had confirmation from the harbor master just now. Apparently your chattels are being unloaded as we speak.”
“Wonderful news. Goodnight, Kenneth.”
Ella retired to her room, read the local news sheet and then climbed into bed. The eager anticipation about her move had drained away, leaving her feeling anxious. Her thoughts swung to England, the tied cottage, her parents’ hard work in bringing her up, and her eyes filled with tears. Should this new venture be a success there would be no one to share it with, no proud mother and father to write to, and if it failed, no shoulder to cry on.
Ella placed her hands on the slimmer money bag. Please let my choice be the right one, she willed silently.
Friday morning she arose early. A note pushed under her door from Kenneth said the household goods would be delivered to Woomba before noon. After packing her few belongings, she ran downstairs out into the yard where the carriage and driver waited, and climbed up beside him. The carriage trundled slowly out of the cobbled courtyard into the quiet street, along the main road, and they were soon surrounded by rolling green hills.
Australian Odyssey Page 4