The Valley

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘If it’s what you want to do, Dani, there are practical matters to be considered. I love having Tim with me. But it’s hard for him. He wants his dog, his gear, and his routine. He wants you.’

  ‘I know that, Mum. So do I. But I can’t uproot him from school, his pals, all of that. Look, let’s not jump the gun. You’ve just arrived. Let’s enjoy being together in our home territory.’ Dani turned the car for Chesterfield where they’d left Tim playing with Toby and Tabatha.

  Helen and Barney were supervising the three children. Toby and Tim were riding on the small tractor driven by Helen as Barney slashed grass down near the river. Tabatha, with Jolly and Ratso nosing around her, was busily dragging branches from under a gum tree into a heap.

  Helen hugged Lara in greeting. ‘We’ve so been looking forward to you coming up. Dani is like one of the family now.’

  ‘I hope Tim hasn’t been any trouble.’

  ‘They’re all getting on like a house on fire. We’re doing dinner while Angela and Tony finish work. Are there any vegetarians? Lots of chops, bangers, mashed spuds and salad. Kids’ tucker,’ said Helen.

  ‘Sounds wonderful,’ said Lara. ‘Can I help?’

  Lara and Helen headed towards the main house chatting easily. Dani smiled as she watched them walk across the lawn. Whether prince or pauper, Lara treated everyone equally without condescension or being sycophantic. She was just herself and people responded to her. However, Dani knew it hadn’t always been like that.

  Lara figured that now she’d ‘mellowed’ with age she didn’t present a threat to anyone. Over the years many women, unfairly, regarded Lara – who was glamorous, interesting, holding down a tough job in a high-profile industry and between husbands – as the enemy. But here she was, still beautiful, bright, and brainy, thought Dani. Wasted in a way. She had thought it was a good idea when Lara announced she was getting out of the TV rat race, but it was time her mother replaced it with something else. Not a full-time professional job, but something other than being a retired, divorced grandmother.

  Barney brought the slasher back up the hill and Tim and Toby ran to Dani. ‘Barney says I can have a drive tomorrow, in the paddock, how about that!’ Tim shouted gleefully.

  ‘Great. You listen to what Barney tells you. Now, what can I do to help?’

  ‘Everything’s under control,’ said Barney. ‘How about we go fishing tomorrow morning before breakfast, Tim? Toby and Tabby have a good spot we’ll show you. Get some blackfish for breakfast, eh?’

  Dani looked at Tim’s shining eyes and the awe Barney inspired. It hit her how her son missed having a grandfather around to teach him the things Toby and Tabatha knew. Helen and Barney’s grandkids could milk a cow, care for animals, fish, handle a boat, ride their bikes through the bush, climb trees, and they knew about the wind and stars and tides.

  Not that Tim’s father could have passed on such skills. Jeff was an advertising executive, into the corporate buzz and material money-making dreams. His idea of entertaining his son was to take him to private previews of big hit movies suitable for kids his age, theme parks, a river cruise, fancy restaurants in the city.

  As the twilight dwindled, Tabatha was showing Tim how to neatly stack more wood on the bonfire she’d assembled.

  ‘So where am I sleeping?’ asked Lara as the three of them returned to Dani’s cabin after the welcoming barbecue and a few drinks.

  ‘Tim and I’ll take the futons in the loft, you and Jolly get the big bed,’ said Dani.

  ‘I don’t mind scrambling up the ladder,’ said Lara, looking at the loft area above the sitting room.

  ‘I want to,’ pleaded Tim.

  ‘Okay. Do your teeth first,’ said Dani and, as Tim disappeared into the bathroom, she gave her mother a hug. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’

  ‘Me too. I’m happy we can share all this. Tim seemed to have a good time this afternoon,’ said Lara, shifting the focus as she suddenly felt she might cry.

  ‘I don’t think it’s registered he hasn’t seen a TV or a computer all day,’ laughed Dani. ‘Tab and Toby kept him on the run.’

  ‘Especially Tabatha, she’s going to challenge him a bit,’ smiled Lara.

  ‘These country kids seem very independent. Max’s sons Len and Julian are the same,’ said Dani.

  ‘It might be good for Tim to experience a change in lifestyle, attitudes, values,’ said Lara thoughtfully.

  ‘That’s a pretty drastic change, Mum.’

  ‘It’s up to you, Dani. If you’re serious about spending time here, stretching yourself, experimenting with your creative muse, I’ll help you any way I can. Tim can move in with me of course. But frankly I think it should be a journey you take together.’

  ‘Yes, I miss him. I’d like him to experience a bit more of the outdoor country life, but I wonder how well he’d adapt.’

  ‘Boys’ stuff, you mean? He’d be fine,’ said Lara with a smile, then added, ‘Tim needs a granddad like Barney.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking the same thing.’ Dani leaned down and rubbed Jolly’s ears. ‘I’ll talk to Helen and Barney, and Angela and Tony. See what advice they have.’

  ‘You’ll have to find a place to rent too. Ah, darling, go for it, I say. Tim is only eight, it’s not like he’s studying for Oxford. Yet.’ She paused. ‘But Dani, don’t think everything up here is sweetness and light. This might be removed from the city but I reckon they have similar problems.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ asked Dani.

  ‘Oh, on the drive here the local radio news mentioned the tragic death of a young man up on the mountain. They think it was drug related.’

  ‘There’s no escape is there? Where is safe? I suppose such a thing wouldn’t have happened in the old days. No drugs about then.’

  Lara couldn’t quite judge the tone in Dani’s voice. ‘There are dangers and temptations in any era. I’m not deluding myself,’ she said carefully.

  ‘Drugs are everywhere, Mum. But I don’t think they’re being shoved through the fence at the local primary school where Toby and Tabatha go.’

  ‘I don’t imagine that school even has a fence,’ said Lara lightly. ‘Let’s not read too much into one boy’s desperate gesture.’

  Dani sighed. ‘Mum, you always sail in and never worry about the problems. I like to look at all the pluses and minuses.’

  Lara stood up and stretched. ‘Sensible. Like your father. But you can do the equations till the cows come home and still trip over something unexpected. Or find reasons not to. Just do it! I’m off to bed, it’s been a long but lovely day. Goodnight, sweetie.’

  They gave each other a warm hug. ‘Sleep well, Mum.’

  Lara did not fall asleep immediately. She got up and stood at the window looking out at the curve of the silvery smooth river. She could hear the murmur of Dani and Tim talking in bed and the gentle snuffles of Jolly stretched across the foot of her bed. How peaceful it all is, she thought. Vivid memories of the calm quiet country nights she spent in her grandparents’ house so long ago flooded back. Being close to where she was born and spent her early years was stirring deep emotions.

  Once again she was a small girl curled on the narrow iron bed in the bedroom her mother Elizabeth had shared with her sister Mollie, where the sweetness of her grandmother’s orange tree blossoms had perfumed the room.

  Being where her mother had lived from babyhood to marriage evoked a confusion of feelings. Life never worked out the way you expected. Which is why – unlike Dani – she felt it pointless writing lists of pros and cons before making a decision. You might as well just jump in and deal with the issues, good and bad, as they came along.

  Lara’s instinct was telling her it would be a good thing for her daughter and grandson to stay here for a while. She hoped her grandparents and her mother were watching and approving.

  5

  Mount George, 1840

  Isabella

  ISABELLA PUT DOWN HER pen, blotted and
folded the letter addressed to the governor in Sydney, closed her wooden writing box and leaned back in the curved leather chair. Her lips were pursed in annoyance that this letter was necessary. Landholders were entitled to apply for assigned convict servants, but because she was a female, and a lone female, her original application to the magistrate at Port Macquarie had been referred to the governor and there matters had stalled.

  Miss Isabella Mary Kelly was not typical of women settling in the young colony. She was a free settler, wealthy, unmarried, and had a fiercely independent spirit. She was firmly letting the governor know that she wanted some action on the convict servant issue. The delay in resolving the matter was not acceptable.

  Isabella was a mature woman in her mid thirties who knew what she wanted and expected to be treated with the deference due to a lady of class and standing. This new home might not be the London establishment in which she had been raised but now she’d made the decision to be a landholder and breeder of cattle and horses in the colony, she was going to make it a success.

  She went outside and gazed over the heavily timbered hills and river flats yet to be thoroughly cleared for grazing. Two years ago she had bought the 895 acres with the river as its southern boundary for five shillings an acre at a rather subdued auction at the Treasury Building in Sydney. She named the property Mount George after the youngest son of her guardian, Sir William Crowder, a justice of the London High Court. George had been like a younger brother to her, the closest she’d come to having a family.

  Isabella, a poor Irish Catholic girl orphaned when she was only eight years old and taken in by Sir William, did not dwell on her humble origins, but nourished the love she had for the family who turned her life around. Even now, two years after establishing her fine dwelling in the bush, she still felt a strong surge of emotion as she scanned the vista that had so captivated her heart from the first day she rode on to the land.

  She hadn’t intended to settle in this wild country. She’d sailed from London, first class, on the barque James for health reasons, a change of scene, and a touch of adventure that fitted well with her strong spirit. One of her travelling companions, the Reverend John Dunmore Lang, an evangelical Presbyterian minister, had impressed her. A Scot, he had been living in Australia for several years and, despite their differing religious persuasions, she saw he was a man of complex but passionate beliefs. He was devoted to his wife and family, and told Isabella of his dream that this unrestrained colony mature into ‘a great Christian nation’. He told Isabella New South Wales needed hard-working, God-fearing free settlers to make this vision a reality. She glimpsed the chance to make her life a really great adventure. The reverend was the first person to speak to her of the natives, believing the Aboriginal culture to be better adapted to life in Australia than that of Europeans.

  Isabella believed breeding and background really mattered. She might be living in ‘the wilderness’ but she maintained rigidly high standards in her person, her home and her business. Mount George was about halfway between the Hunter Valley and the penal settlement of Port Macquarie to the north. The newly opened up land gave her a sense of peace, fulfilment and hope. It was her church, a place where she felt close to the Almighty who had created the beautifully blue distant mountain range, the great forests, and the tumbling streams that flowed into the big river rolling through her property. Isabella was known by other settlers as a plain, pragmatic, even stern woman. But few knew how the Australian bush stirred her spirit.

  In the early morning she breathed deeply the scent of eucalyptus and wood smoke, and loved watching the misty dawn give way to blazing blue sky and sun. The animals fascinated her and, despite knowing of many dangers, she felt secure in this pristine environment. She had come readily to accept the dramatic weather changes, from torrential rain and flood to the searing heat of summer with dried grass, cracked ground and the pall of distant bushfires. She had no nostalgia for the land of her birth, the largely treeless and mossy green hills, the tiny potato fields, the network of small villages in what now seemed a toyland. Ireland’s poverty had killed her parents and forced her out into the world an unformed, unknowing child. She had been fortunate to be led into the care of a wealthy family in London. Isabella firmly believed that providence had protected her. And now it was up to her to forge her future. She felt this strange new land was calling to her to create a home here, to grasp the opportunities and optimism it offered, and to accept the challenges. Acquaintances in London, and indeed anyone who might remember her poor family and the young orphan girl, would scarcely believe she was embarking on a such a scheme as this.

  She never doubted she could do it. For years people would wonder where she learned about horses and cattle. How did a woman, a single woman, imagine she was going to run an enterprise in the bush where there were so many obstacles? All Isabella knew, and trusted, were her own instincts, her strengths and limitations.

  Having bought land and built a good home, staffed with four female servants still being schooled in keeping house the way she expected, Isabella rode south on an ill-formed track to Maitland, in the Hunter Valley, to buy cattle. She bought one hundred cows at six pounds each, one hundred calves, and hired four men to drive them to Mount George.

  She was eventually assigned eight convicts to work for her, and she made it clear to them that they were not running the property, they were simply employees. She oversaw every aspect of their work, which raised eyebrows in every settlement that heard the stories of her pioneering methods. One of the convicts, Thomas Higgins, was appointed head man. While all the men were only six to twelve months off being given their ticket of leave, she sensed they would not be past theft or laziness.

  With the extra workers and new cattle she soon needed more horses, so with two of the convicts on horseback she packed some supplies in the back of her dray and headed back to the Hunter Valley to buy them. It meant sleeping rough in the open for a few nights but a crude shelter of sacks stitched together and tied to a frame of saplings gave Isabella some protection and privacy. If it rained she tied tanned cow skins to the top of the saplings. She slept clothed beneath rough blankets, her saddlebag as a pillow. And, the men believed, a pistol close at hand.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Kelly. I’m Charles Langley from Rich, Burt and Langley and I’m delighted to meet you at last.’ The man raised his bushman’s hat in polite greeting. ‘Your letter to our company in Sydney indicated you’re interested in purchasing some good-quality stock horses?’ His words clearly signalled that he was aware of the eyebrow-raising stories in circulation about her.

  ‘And good morning to you, sir. Yes, I am in need of good work horses and breeding stock. Your assistance would be appreciated.’

  He gestured towards a rough log stool under a tree close to the spread of well-fenced stockyards in which horses were being assembled for the auction. ‘Shall we sit for a while and discuss the detail of how we can work together, Miss Kelly?’ He gave the log a perfunctory swipe with his hat, raising a little cloud of dust.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Langley.’

  ‘Now, do you want me to make the selection? I can assure you that I have had considerable experience both here and in England, though I must say that some interesting new breeds have been developed in New South Wales in recent years.’

  ‘I will make the selection myself,’ responded Isabella firmly, but gave a little wave of the hand and added, ‘Naturally your opinion on prices would be welcome but I have a fair eye for a good horse. Certainly I expect your firm to handle the paperwork. If all goes well I am sure we can build quite a useful working relationship in the years ahead.’

  Langley was delighted with her no-nonsense approach. He could also see how easily her unrestrained self-confidence would make most men in the bush feel rather uncomfortable. ‘Very well, Madam. Would you like to follow me and inspect the better quality horses? When you have decided, will you want me to do the bidding on your behalf?’

  ‘Of course. But keep your
eye on me as well as the other bidders. I may need to signal you from time to time.’

  ‘Naturally, Miss Kelly.’ Langley struggled to get his raised eyebrows back into place.

  She stood well apart from the men inspecting the horses but looked intently as each horse was led around the inspection yard. ‘The chestnut. That grey mare. The roan stallion. The black filly with its foal.’

  Langley made notes including her whispered suggestions of potential price, and occasionally ventured a brief remark of approval.

  By lunch time she had acquired all the horses she needed, most at prices that were within her budget. She got some extra pleasure from giving a nod of approval for Langley to bid substantially higher than agreed for a very good-looking stallion, probably the best horse on offer, which attracted strong bidding. She knew her little victory would be much talked about by the men at the pub in town that afternoon.

  The owner of the property where the auction was held sought her out. ‘Miss Kelly, it is an honour to meet you. I’m Charles Horton. My wife and I would like you to join us as our guest for dinner and perhaps stay in our modest home this evening.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Horton. I am adequately catered for at the lodgings in town and anxious to return to my property. My men and I have made arrangements to leave at daylight. I trust I can return your offer of hospitality should you be passing some time.’

  ‘It is very likely. Your land is on the main route north and I travel that way from time to time.’

  Isabella had indeed chosen her land well. The north–south trail up the coast ran through her property and crossed the rocky shallows of the creek not far from the house.

  ‘I bid you a safe journey, Miss Kelly.’ The cattleman tipped his hat and turned away. Isabella’s attitude would give his wife more to chatter about. The women at the sale felt snubbed by Isabella Kelly and were scandalised at her travelling around the countryside with two scruffy convicts.