Australian Odyssey

by Pauline Saull

  “Well, I have just the thing.” Walking to the desk by the window, Mrs. Rusting pulled out two chairs. She bid Ella sit next to her and opened a catalogue. “This is from France! Ooh-la-la,” she giggled. “Aren’t they just gorgeous?”

  Ella gazed at the delicate wide-legged pantaloons with drawstring waist, the smallest of small chemises, beribboned, which barely covered a woman’s breasts. How beautifully sheer they were.

  Her thoughts swung wildly to Lucas. Lucas looking at her, pulling on the ribbons…

  “They look ideal, Mrs. Rusting. Could you make three sets for me, but I’ll have them in your finest cotton instead of silk. Much more practical.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame. Still, they will be a pleasure to make and shall be in the softest lawn, my dear. As for work wear…” She frowned and bit her lip. “How would you feel about something along the lines of a man’s dungaree. You know, with the bib and all?”

  After a quick sketch of what appeared to be a wide skirt, but was in fact trousers with bib attached, Ella gave the go ahead. Beneath them she’d be able to wear a loose cotton top.

  “Can I pay for these?” a strident voice asked. Both women turned.

  “Of course, Mary,” Mrs. Rusting said.

  Mary was staring at her and Ella looked steadily back into the hostile young face. The girl tossed her head and flounced to the counter.

  Ella was glad to leave the shop. Mary’s open dislike had unnerved her. What on earth had caused that, she wondered?

  Out on the street the pavements were busy with workmen. Joseph Hains, the Mayor, had decreed that Port Adelaide would have the electric lights before the end of the year, and a line of holes were being dug for the poles. About to cross the road, Ella heard her name called, and turning, saw a young man running down the post office steps, waving two envelopes.

  “Mrs. Bickerstaff. These came addressed to you at the Railway Hotel, so I kept them back. I intended calling at Woomba with them sometime today.”

  Pleased to note one of the envelopes came from Thomas’ lawyer, Ella thanked him, dropping the mail in her bag to read later, and carried on to the chemist shop.

  It was Ella’s last day at Birk’s, and with Phillip she arranged the labelled jars and pots containing herbs and tinctures along the back of the worktop in alphabetical order.

  “Get a pen and pad,” Ella said. “You need to take notes as you haven’t used some of these before. St. John’s Wort for depression, Gingko, excellent in aiding circulation, Magnesia, a purgative, and Saltpetre for high fever. But use them in very small doses. I suggest this measure. And always keep it clean.”

  At lunchtime, after bidding young Phillip a fond farewell, she knocked on William Birk’s office door.

  “Ella.” He smiled and clasped her hand warmly. “This is not a happy day for me, but I know I have to let you go.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew an envelope. “Please accept this card as a small token of mine and Grace’s appreciation for your work over the months.” He pressed it into her hands. “We shall miss you.”

  “Thank you, it’s a very kind of you both. But you know, had it not been for your generosity, your trust in me at the beginning, I would never have met Dorothy, and may very well have been on the next boat back to England!”

  He walked out with her to the yard at the back where Star, eyes closed, one hoof lifted, waited in the shade.

  Ella called and he whinnied softly in reply.

  William kissed her cheek. “It’s been a pleasure working with you my dear. I do hope…well, let me say, that one day in the not too distant future, as my dear wife hinted, I’m pretty sure you will meet a fine young man, settle down and be very happy. Grace and I hope you’ll stay in touch.”

  “I will, of course.” Ella led Star out onto the road.

  Fine young man! Happiness, a family?

  “Pipe dreams,” she said quietly as she waved farewell to William.

  »»•««

  Back home, Ella stopped at her gate, surprised to see a note there under a stone. Climbing from the cart and unfolding the letter, she read it. It was curt and to the point:

  Ella. To save your privacy, yet still keep my stock in, I have decided to fence along my side of the copse. This will save lopping the trees, which would have been necessary had I run a fence along the middle. Please bear in mind, that this does not mean I am passing the tract of land over to you, only that I deem it an act of neighborly consideration. Lucas Helm.

  Ella laughed. “How ludicrous!” She screwed the note into a ball and threw it in the back of the cart.

  Coralee and Jack were just finishing for the day and she offered them a ride into town.

  “No thanks, Ella.” Coralee smiled. “The walk will do me good. We’ve filled five crates for the morning. Jack’s coming in early to deliver them. Have a nice evening. Good day.”

  After settling Star, refreshing the straw bedding, and replenishing the water, Ella went into the house, unloaded her few provisions, and packed them in the new ‘E.D Nicolle’ ice box. Pouring a glass of cool cordial and taking the post from her bag, she sat in the rocking chair to read them.

  The first came from Aldeous Williams and Downs in London.

  Dear Mrs. Bickerstaff,

  We were greatly saddened to hear of your husband’s unfortunate and untimely death. Our sympathies go out to you. After thorough investigation by myself, I have ascertained that the farm, ‘Holly End,’ in Hampshire, does indeed now belong to you, for as you say Thomas had no heirs.

  After placing an advertisement for either its sale or rental, we have had an offer of four thousand pounds from a gentleman in London. We would advise, dear madam, that if it is your wish to remain in Australia, then it would be in your interest to accept this very generous offer.

  I await your reply by telegraph.

  Sincerely

  James Downs.

  “My!” Ella exclaimed quietly.

  The second letter was a surprise also. It came from Captain Robert Moreland, telling of his arrival in Port Adelaide the first week in December. He would be staying at the Railway Hotel as usual, and kindly requested her company for dinner on the ninth, at six thirty. Could she possibly leave a note at the hotel either declining or accepting?

  Ella folded his letter, a thoughtful smile playing around her mouth. The image of the girl, Mary, hanging on Lucas’s arm came to mind.

  “Yes, I will accept the Captain’s offer of dinner!”

  The afternoon passed quickly attending to household chores—bed linen to change and wash, floors to be swept, cupboards scrubbed, rugs that needed beating—until finally with her sheets flapping on the line and the house thoroughly cleaned, Ella drank a glass of cordial, ate a slice of cold tomato flan and salad, and after washing the dishes, went to her bedroom.

  She lit the lantern and searched through her chest, finding the old poetry book she’d bought for herself in London. Carefully wrapped in linen, she was pleased to see when opened that it had survived the journey intact. Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Poems of Passion.

  Ella ran a finger over the worn brown suede cover. She knew most of the poems by heart but would still enjoy reading them. Written by the American poet, they contained poignant words which had always struck a chord with Ella.

  Out on the porch she settled in the rocking chair to read. The poems spoke of love and passionate feelings as if they were the same emotion, something which had never intrigued her before, but now, having experienced her own body’s heated response to Lucas—well, did that mean what she’d felt was love?

  She stared across the green lushness of her land. The late afternoon was pleasant with a breeze blowing from the hills, and once on that breeze Ella thought she heard Lucas’ laugh. She held her breath but heard nothing more. Shortly afterward, wood smoke mingled with the smell of roasting meat drifted over. She strained her ears again. Was that a woman’s laughter?

  What do I care!

  Collecting her book and glass, Ella went
inside and slammed the door. The night’s sleep was restless and disturbed. As dawn broke lighting her bedroom, irritably she rose and dressed. The recent plague of sleepless nights were beginning to affect her, and grudgingly she had to admit they could only be put down to one thing—which was not the hot weather.

  She actually missed seeing Lucas. She was jealous when thinking of pretty Mary alone with him, and longed to take back her harsh decision over the fencing.

  But it was done. She’d made her bed, as her mother used to say.

  When Coralee and Jack arrived, Ella rode into town, first to send a telegraph to London accepting the offer on the farm and giving the lawyer the details of her bank in Port Adelaide. Next she dropped off a sealed envelope at the Railway Hotel accepting Robert Moreland’s invitation.

  Back at Woomba, she joined Jack and Coralee in the barn. The heat was intense and she asked Jack’s opinion on an idea that had come to her in the sleepless hours of the previous night.

  “We need air in here, Jack.” Ella smiled as he wiped the sweat trickling down his brow. Coralee had stopped work, coming to join them.

  “We sure do, Miz Bickerstaff. I bin thinkin’. See between the posts, well I reckon it should be easy to cut openings without doin’ damage to the building. If we saved what we cut out…”

  Ella clapped him on the back. “Well done! What we cut out we hinge back on so we can push out and prop them open. Marvelous! But how do we do it, Jack?” Ella looked along the length of the barn. “We’ll need at least eight to make it effective, but it’s too big for you to do.”

  Jack pushed his chest out. “I can do it, Miz Ella.”

  “I’m sure you could, but it really is too much for one person. Mm.”

  “What are you thinking, Ella?” Coralee asked.

  “I’m thinking of Jonnie and how quickly he’d be able to do it in his spare time with Jack’s help. I’d pay handsomely for their efforts.” Ella chewed her lip.

  “Gee whizz, Miz Ella, Jonnie at Glen Ayre is good and he always appreciates a few extra shillings.”

  Ella nodded. “Do you often get to speak with him?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jonnie and Lucas started their first job of the day, sweeping and cleaning the stockyard. Lucas, fastidious when it came to animal welfare and hygiene, insisted it be done daily, sometimes twice a day. He kept glancing at Jonnie, who was unusually quiet.

  “Everything all right, Jonnie?”

  “Yeah, yeah…I suppose.”

  Lucas leaned on his broom. “Now what does that mean? ‘I suppose’ isn’t an answer.”

  “Well see it’s like this, Lucas. I met young Jack Farrow in town yesterday…”

  Lucas watched him. “Again? You two are getting mighty friendly.”

  “He’s a good kid. Thinks the world of Ella.” Jonnie sighed. “I might as well get straight to the point and tell you. He mentioned Ella needed some work doing in the barn, asked if I’d be interested. Thing is, boss, I don’t know what’s gone wrong between you and Ella, but I sense anger whenever Woomba’s mentioned.” He shrugged. “Can you blame me for not wanting to say anything?”

  “Well, Jonnie.” Lucas eyes glittered. “Go ahead. Do it if you want and good on yer!” He turned away, carried on sweeping. “You do as you please in your free time, Jonnie.”

  “Aw shucks, Lucas! I don’t want to if it means you’ll be like a prickly old goat. There’s no point.”

  “Prickly old goat, eh? Is that how I am?”

  “Well, yeah. I feel I daren’t mention Ella’s name no more!”

  “Jonnie.” Lucas leaned on the broom. “You’re right. I don’t know about goat, stubborn mule more like. Hey, mate I shouldn’t be taking out my ragbag temper on you. It’s those darn signs. They sure have made me irritable, but look, go with my blessings to Woomba. What,” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him, “does Ella want doing?”

  “She needs ventilation in the juice shed. Young Jack told me it’s like working in a furnace, so we’ll cut out eight windows, put hinges and ropes on what we take out and put them back in.”

  Lucas nodded. “You have to hand it to that woman. She’s a trier all right!”

  »»•««

  Jonnie and Jack worked all Saturday while Ella mucked out the horse shelter and cleaned the water trough, jobs Jack usually did for her. Returning to the barn, she was delighted to see they’d managed to get the first four openings cut out, and conditions had improved immediately in the shed. With the large doors also open, at last a welcome breeze came through.

  “Phew!” Jack said. “That’s better.”

  “Wonderful,” Ella enthused. “Now, you must both come and have dinner with me. Everything’s prepared, so you can’t refuse.”

  On the veranda Ella laid out a platter of bread, cheese, and anchovies, an asparagus tart, and a plate of sliced tomatoes and onions dressed with oil and vinegar. Jack ate silently, dispatching a huge portion. Jonnie took his time, savoring every bite of the light flan.

  “You will make some lucky man a fine wife one day, Ella,” he said. “Ooh, sorry, I forgot…”

  “That’s all right, no need to apologize. The fact that I am still called Mrs. Bickerstaff never ceases to surprise me for some days I can barely recall poor Thomas’ face.”

  Jack finished his food, carried his dish to the sink, and washed it. “Can I please go home now, Miz Bickerstaff. There are jobs to do for Mum.”

  “Of course. See you tomorrow, Jack.” She walked him to the door, waving as he disappeared down the driveway.

  “He’s a good kid,” Jonnie said. “You were lucky to find him. I’ll do the dishes, Ella.” He rose, but Ella insisted he sit again.

  “They can wait, Jonnie. It’s good to have someone to talk to again, I’ve missed our little chats. You know,” she said, a faraway look clouding her eyes. “Getting back to Thomas, it’s strange, but I feel as though those seven years spent married to him, happened to someone else, not me.”

  Jonnie twiddled his thumbs.

  “You see,” Ella continued, “I was only seventeen at the time. My husband was so much older than me, thirty-three years in fact…”

  Jonnie’s mouth dropped open. “But that’s more than old enough to be your…?” He stopped, clearly dismayed.

  Ella smiled. “My father? Yes, which meant we had very little in common. If I was to marry again, and that’s a big ‘if’ Jonnie, it would have to be for love.” She looked at him. “Though, I sometimes have to ask myself, what is love? And why should I need a man when I am quite capable of taking care of myself?”

  Ella caught herself up with a start. What on earth was she doing, rambling on to poor Jonnie about love? He looked embarrassed and uncomfortable, his feet twitching in a hurry to leave. She rose.

  “Sorry, Jonnie. I do go on a bit sometimes. Goodnight and thanks for all your hard work today.”

  »»•««

  At the ranch Lucas snoozed on the porch, feet resting on the rail, hat over his face, but Jonnie’s footsteps alerted him. His feet dropped, he moved his hat, and straightened in the chair.

  “Jonnie?” he called out. “Come and join me.”

  Lucas pulled out two bottles of Cooper’s from his ice-box, handing him one. “Good day?” he asked nonchalantly.

  “Thanks.” Jonnie took the bottle, deftly removing the top. “Yeah, we managed to get four openings finished, makes a hell of a difference in there. Ella was mightily pleased.”

  Lucas raised his eyebrows, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Jonnie’s enthusiasm for the woman made it impossible for him to stay mad.

  “I had dinner with her,” Jonnie added shyly. “I do like her—feel a bit sorry for her too. I don’t think she had a very happy life until she arrived here.”

  “Oh?”

  “She told me a little about her marriage, nothing personal mind, but there didn’t seem to be any love lingering for the husband. And he was thirty years older than her! When I was walking ba
ck to Glen Ayre I thought of my folk in Sydney, married when they were both seventeen, and twenty-five years later, still happy. I can’t imagine my father so many years older than my mother. The idea sickens me.”

  “She wasn’t forced into it Jonnie.”

  “But why should Ella have married that old fella? She’s beautiful. Any man would be happy to have her for his wife. I can’t fathom it.”

  Lucas felt his stomach churn with childish jealousy at thoughts of the intimate dinner and conversation at Woomba. “Be careful,” he said. “Don’t get too close.”

  Jonnie laughed. “Boss, I’m only twenty-two! The likes of Ella would never be interested in a cow hand, especially not one my age.”

  “So.” Lucas swigged his beer. “She didn’t like having an old ’un, and you think she doesn’t want a young one either. Interesting!”

  “I reckon,” Jonnie said with a sly grin, “that a handsome man such as yourself, who’s somewhere in between would be just the ticket for the pretty Widow Bickerstaff.”

  »»•««

  Jonnie retired for an early night and Lucas sat outside. It was his time of evening when he enjoyed watching the undersides of the clouds turning pink then orange as the sun went down and the stars came out. Many times he wished he knew the names of the different cloud formations, the constellations. He thought about the town library, well stocked with books. What would be more pleasant than evenings here on the porch, reading about them by lamplight? Yes, tomorrow, he’d look into it.

  But trying to keep his mind on cloud formations and the availability of books was no use. His mind kept swinging back to what Jonnie had said.

  Could he wear Ella’s resistance down? Only for the lake, of course, he assured himself. On the other hand, she’d be a fine sight on his arm around town and a passionate woman in the privacy of the bedroom. He stirred, feeling uncomfortably tight in his trousers.

  He acknowledged the fact that he sure as hell wanted her. What hot-blooded man wouldn’t, but he still felt he could never trust a female again. And she was no different than any other. Yet…the extra farmland, the lake, and a woman to warm his bed were inviting thoughts, not ones to be scorned.