by Di Morrissey
She stepped into the vestibule and went down the wide central hallway, Jolly padding behind her. There was a familiar smell and then a rattle and a clatter from a room towards the front. Dani turned towards the noise, pushing open a heavy, carved cedar door.
And gasped in astonishment.
It was the dining room – completely furnished down to a rose crystal epergne on the centre of the table, silver dishes and a tea service set along the ornate rosewood credenza. What was more surprising was the sight of Kerry, wearing a large apron smock, busily polishing the table.
Kerry caught her breath and stared at Dani in the doorway.
‘Furniture oil. That’s what I could smell. A lovely smell,’ said Dani, struggling to sound friendly and defuse the obvious tension her arrival had created.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ said Kerry shortly. Her hair was tied back with a scarf, she looked flushed and harried.
‘I’m sorry. I started walking, there wasn’t anyone home at your cottage . . . I assumed it was your place . . . and I saw the trees on top of the hill.’
Kerry straightened up. ‘They’re supposed to screen the house. Not invite people to come exploring.’
Dani immediately apologised and tried to sound neighbourly as she reintroduced herself and Jolly. ‘I’m Tim’s mum, from over the creek. I didn’t even know this was here. Whose house is it? Is this where you live?’ she asked, quite confused. The grand house appeared to be intact, with all its original furnishings down to bric a brac.
‘No. It’s not my place. I just look after it. I live in the old manager’s cottage in exchange for keeping this place in order.’
‘Well, you’re doing a lovely job,’ said Dani. ‘It’s extraordinary. Whose place is it? Could I look around?’
Kerry gathered up her duster and bottle of polish. ‘Don’t mention this to anyone. I’m not to let visitors inside. Not that many people remember this place anymore. Not since the old man died and the rest of the family moved out.’ She gave a flick of the duster and headed through an archway into a small sitting room.
‘I won’t say a word,’ Dani promised. She glanced around the sitting room filled with Victorian memorabilia and spied the library with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. It was amazing everything was still intact. She wondered if Barry and Maree from Isadora’s knew of this place. They’d go crazy over everything in here. ‘Does anyone come and stay? What will happen to this place? Be a magnificent B&B, wouldn’t it,’ she said lightly.
Kerry looked at Dani as if wondering whether to tell her something, then turned away. ‘It will never go out of the family. Passed down from father to son. It’ll just fall down eventually, I suppose.’
‘What about the National Trust, surely this is heritage listed?’ exclaimed Dani.
‘No way. The old man wouldn’t hear of it. Anyway, I think it should stay just as it is. Excuse me, I have a lot to do.’
‘I hope I haven’t got you into any trouble, Kerry, I’ll keep this to myself. But as I’m here, I just thought . . . it’s not often you get a chance to see how the other half lived, all that time ago,’ said Dani softly.
‘Turn right when you get to the upstairs landing,’ said Kerry shortly. ‘You’re an artist, you’ll probably enjoy the gallery. Take the dog with you, no problem.’
Dani began to explore the house, entranced by the spacious rooms, the relics of generations of a family’s existence, the extraordinary views from every window. The landing ran into a modest gallery, a mezzanine floor suspended above the lobby. It featured a few interesting portraits, some works of local scenery and prize livestock as well as a few competent works of bucolic English countryside. Dani wandered up and down imagining how her Isabella pictures would fit in. This house was probably built after Isabella’s time, but how many other historic relics were scattered about the valley, she wondered. She loved the master bedroom though she thought she’d update the old-fashioned bathroom and turn one of the four bedrooms into a study.
As she went back downstairs it occurred to Dani that, although it was fully furnished, there was nothing personal in the house. No photographs, no personal little things, just the formal portraits. Obviously no one had lived here for a long time, so it was odd Kerry was kept on as housekeeper. She was a strange woman. There was something about the way she’d been so feverishly rubbing and polishing the table. She obviously loved the place.
They parted on pleasant terms after Dani enthused about the contents, the art, and the single-handed effort being made by Kerry to maintain order and cleanliness in the huge home.
‘Do drop over to The Vale sometime for a cup of tea,’ offered Dani and Kerry smiled and nodded as she worked but made no commitment.
Walking home across the creek Dani glanced over her shoulder at the ring of trees on the far hill hiding the strange and beautiful old house. She thought about how homes had developed in the area from the first settlers in a one-room sapling-frame hut covered in strips of bark with leather hinges on the door and a slab of bark as a window shutter. Then would come the mud-brick chimney, extra rooms or a larger, separate dwelling made from felled timber with a tin roof or wooden shingles. Pioneer housing was simple and organic, a style dictated by abundant bush and limited cash until the wealthier and more successful landholders built mini-mansions, many in the style of what they knew back in the old country. And now Jason was evolving housing that was reverting to how it had been in the beginning – modern but modest, harmoniously existing within the landscape. She had more of a sense of what Jason was trying to do and decided Isabella would probably approve.
Cedartown, 1942
Harold was sitting in the lounge room reading the newspaper with the latest war news when he heard the brass knocker fall against the front door. He opened the door to find Clem standing there in uniform. He gave Harold a bit of a smile and whipped off his slouch hat.
‘Morning, Mr Williams.’
‘Clem, lad! How wonderful to see you. Elizabeth said you were hoping to get leave. Come in, come in.’
He ushered Clem into the lounge room where Clem sat on the edge of the lounge suite, holding his hat between his knees. ‘Sorry I couldn’t give any notice, they move us around pretty quickly and we’re never sure where we’ll be next week.’
‘I understand how it is, of course.’ Harold looked at the man he’d known since he was a youngster now back from action with the 9th Division in the Middle East. Harold saw the strain in Clem’s once bright and mischievous eyes, the tightness around his mouth, the tautness in his body. The boy had been blooded, seen how war could be. ‘I’ll get Elizabeth for you.’ Harold paused. ‘How long have you got?’
‘A week, maybe a bit more. We’re waiting for the rest of the 13th to remobilise then we’re being sent to New Guinea, we hear on the grapevine.’
‘Those wretched Japs are storming down from Singapore. After Pearl Harbor they think they can walk into Darwin. Or come through the Sydney Heads.’
‘Not if we can help it, sir.’
‘Good lad, that’s the spirit.’ Harold disappeared down the hallway calling for his elder daughter.
‘She’s down in the fowl yard getting me some eggs,’ said Emily who was busy kneading dough to bake bread. ‘Was that the door?’
‘It’s Clem. Back on leave, wants to see Elizabeth.’
‘Oh my goodness,’ exclaimed Emily, immediately wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Elizabeth will be furious, she’s got her old clothes on. Trousers, no less. Keep Clem chatting while she tidies herself up. Where’s Mollie?’
‘Don’t fuss, Mum. I don’t think Clem is going to care what she’s wearing.’
Clem appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘Hello, Mrs Williams. Did I hear you say Elizabeth is down the back?’ Emily nodded and Clem grinned. ‘I’ll just pop down there and give her a big surprise.’ Clem shot through the kitchen door and down the back steps before Emily could say anything. He wanted to see Elizabeth alone, hold her and kiss her.
Eliz
abeth was on her hands and knees in the chook yard, reaching under the laying boxes where there were several eggs in the cool dirt.
‘You damn girls, why’d you lay under here when you’ve got nice straw boxes.’
‘Just to annoy you probably.’ Clem gave her bottom a cheerful pat.
‘Clem! You wretch! Oh my! Why didn’t you tell me!’ Elizabeth scrambled to her feet, dusting off her shirt and cotton trousers.
Clem grabbed her and held her tightly burying his face in her hair, which was partly covered with a bandana. ‘Ah Jeez, Elizabeth. I’ve missed you. Real bad.’ He kissed her and would have been content just to stand there, holding her in his arms, tasting her lips, smelling the pine-freshness of her hair.
Elizabeth wiggled from his embrace. ‘Goodness, Clem. I wish I’d known you were coming today. Just look at me. How long are you home for?’
‘You look good to me. Dunno about the time. Not long.’
‘So . . . how was it? Terrible?’ When Clem didn’t answer immediately she continued, ‘Dad told me not to ask. But I was so worried. And Thommo? He back too?’
‘Yep. So what do you want to do? Are the Gordon boys home?’
‘Not that I’ve heard. Say, there’s a dance tomorrow night. Or what about the pictures? Mr Thompson has got a John Wayne showing.’
‘I was hoping we could just kind of be, you know, quiet like. Just the two of us,’ said Clem holding her hand as they walked back to the house.
‘Oh. I s’pose so.’ Elizabeth was hoping she could show off her soldier, home from the front.
She won the day and the town closed its collective eyes to the carousing, singing, drinking and partying of the group of local boys on a brief reprieve before ‘going north’. There was talk of jungle training and going to the islands to stop the Jap invasion.
‘Where’re you going for tropical training?’ Cynthia asked Thommo. ‘Maybe me and Elizabeth could get the train to Brisbane and see you up there!’
‘Fat chance,’ laughed Thommo. ‘You two girls got to keep working, keep the home fires burning. Anyway, some blokes didn’t get any leave at all. Straight off the ship from the Middle East and on the ship to New Guinea and Borneo.’
‘So you’d better make the most of this leave then,’ said Elizabeth.
‘I thought we were,’ said Clem. ‘But I gotta spend some time at home. Dad’s fuming over practically everything connected to the farm and Mum is looking very down in the mouth.’
‘That farm, I thought when you joined up you’d never have to work on it again,’ said Elizabeth in an exasperated voice.
‘They are my family.’
‘Hang about you two,’ soothed Thommo. ‘What say we go for a walk down to the river.’
‘I’d better be getting home, I promised I’d be there for tea tonight,’ said Cynthia.
‘Me too,’ said Elizabeth, even though she’d hoped to spend the evening with Clem.
‘I was going to meet a couple of pals, want to come along?’ Thommo asked Clem.
‘Nah, I’ll head out to the farm. I’d better get Keith’s truck back.’ He grinned at Elizabeth. ‘See ya tomorrow then. Just you and me, eh?’
‘After work. Hooroo then.’ She took Cynthia’s hand and the girls walked off.
‘So whaddya want to do then? You don’t really want to go home, do ya?’ Thommo stuck his hands deep in his trousers pockets as they sauntered back down the street from the Australia Hotel.
‘Maybe I should. I feel sorry for Mum. I haven’t spent much time with her this leave,’ said Clem. ‘And your folks would probably like to see more of you.’ Clem thought about the Thompsons’ packages. While his mother had written simple, heartfelt letters about life on the farm and sent the socks she knitted, Thommo’s parents had sent parcels with raisins, biscuits, cigarettes and his favourite lollies, which he’d shared with Clem.
‘All right. Maybe the Gordons will lob in and we can muck around with them. See ya.’
The following day when Elizabeth skipped out of the All-farms Stock and Station Agency, she found Clem standing outside, dressed in his civvies, twisting his hat in his hands, looking solemn. ‘Why didn’t you come inside and say hello to Donald? Whatever is the matter with you?’ she asked, linking her arm through his and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
‘There’s been news, bad news from Syria . . .’ he began.
Elizabeth stopped, her hand flying to her mouth. ‘Has someone we know been killed?’
‘Yeah.’ He swallowed and took a deep breath.
‘Clem! Who, for goodness sake?’
‘Andy. Andy Gordon. Your mum and dad are pretty upset. They’re with Mr and Mrs Gordon right now.’
Elizabeth stood still in shock. ‘But he was coming home, like you, on leave . . . They were so looking forward to it.’ Tears began to roll down her face. The three Gordon boys had always been the boys next door since she could remember.
Awkwardly Clem took her in his arms, feeling incapable of comforting her.
Elizabeth suddenly drew back and looked at him. ‘What if something happens to you?’
‘Nah, nothing’s going to happen to me. Never fear. Come on, let’s go down the road and I’ll get you a shandy.’
‘No, I hate sitting in that ladies’ lounge. I want to be with you.’ She clutched his arm as they walked down Isabella Street. Shops were closing and as they passed the jewellery store, Elizabeth stopped. ‘Let’s get married, Clem. I don’t want you to go away and leave things so . . . up in the air.’ She peered at the display of rings.
‘What do you mean, up in the air?’ said Clem. ‘We’re engaged, sort of, you said.’ He was slightly taken aback at this turn of events.
‘I don’t want to wait. I want us to get married. Please, Clem, it means a lot to me.’
‘There’s no time! I leave in three days.’
‘We can do it. Just a simple thing. And later, when it’s over and you’re back we’ll have a proper wedding.’
Elizabeth’s eyes were shining and she looked so pretty, Clem’s heart lurched.
‘What will our parents say? We have to get paperwork . . . I dunno.’ Clem shook his head.
‘I’ll look after everything like that, Clem,’ said Elizabeth, suddenly businesslike. ‘You just get the ring. We’ll go to the registry office in Hungerford. You ring up and book us in. Wear your uniform and have Thommo for your best man of course.’
In the few minutes they’d walked together since breaking the news, Clem felt his life revving into high gear. Elizabeth chattered on, her tears over Andy gone. Where was he going to get a ring for her, pondered Clem. He had some money saved but he’d promised it to his mother so she had a little nest egg of her own that his father didn’t know about. What about Thommo? He had a ring he’d won in a poker game in Syria. Maybe he’d loan it to Clem. Or give it to him. Thommo owed Clem a few quid borrowed for card games.
‘Let’s ask your parents first. I’ll have to speak to your dad.’
‘It’s my mother who’ll dig her heels in,’ said Elizabeth calmly. ‘Dad’ll talk her round, you’ll see.’
Clem couldn’t begin to think what his parents would say. He’d never told them how serious he and Elizabeth were. He shuddered. ‘Elizabeth, are you sure you want to do this? I mean, it’s a big step. What difference is it going to make to us? We love each other no matter what.’
‘Clem Richards, you stop this. How do you think I’ll feel if you get killed?’ demanded Elizabeth. ‘At least if I’m your wife I’m left with something.’ Her voice choked up and she was close to tears again. A woman walking past glanced at them.
‘All right, settle down. Let me think about this. You’re right, I should look after you. You’ll get my allotment. We can save up, maybe get a house . . .’
‘Don’t forget I’m saving money from my job. We just need enough to get us to Sydney, start a new life. Oh Clem, it’s the only way we’re going to get out of here. You’re already gone, I’m still stuck here.�
� Elizabeth was rigid with impatience. ‘I wish I could join up.’
‘Your mum said you were working with the Red Cross, and maybe joining the VAD,’ said Clem but stopped as Elizabeth dismissively waved a hand.
‘Heavens, Clem, rolling bandages, learning first aid and wrapping parcels to be sent to the troops. That’s not getting me out of here.’
‘You have a good job, you save your money, yeah, that’s the best thing to do,’ said Clem. He couldn’t see Elizabeth in the forces, working like the nurses he’d seen. There was a gentleness, a calmness about them, a sense of humour that he couldn’t see Elizabeth producing when the heat was on, all hell breaking loose, wounded everywhere. She was so emotional. So driven.
Elizabeth interrupted his thoughts. ‘Then that’s settled. Come on, let’s break the news.’
As they walked towards Cricklewood Clem felt his life spinning out of control.
Clem waited till after the dishes had been done and Keith was reading the newspaper while his father took his nightly turn around the yard with his final cigarette of the day, ‘Just checkin’ on things.’
Nola folded a blanket on top of the kitchen table, spread a sheet over it and pulled the basket of damped-down clothes to hand.
‘Mum, I got some news.’
‘What’s that, Clem, love?’ She wrapped a flannel around the handle of the flat iron, lifted it from the top of the wood-burning range and spat on her finger, testing the hotness of the bottom of the iron.
‘Here, sit down, stop fussing with the ironing.’
She realised this was important so she put the iron back on the stove and drew up a chair at the kitchen table. ‘Is something the matter?’ she asked, seeing Clem’s serious face.
‘Nope. But, well, me and Elizabeth Williams, we’re real close, good mates for a long time. And . . . Well, it’s got a bit more serious . . . and with me going away and . . . we’re getting married,’ he finished in a rush.