Beneath the Willow

by Michael J Murphy

  Arthur lifted the envelope onto its edge and stared blankly, as he considered past decisions.

  ‘This is a letter from me to your husband while he was recuperating in England.’

  Ruth lifted her chin slightly, a reflex action, defensive in its nature, aimed to absorb any previously unimagined news that may be about to surface.

  ‘It was marked return to sender, and eventually found its way to Gilmurra amongst other mail for returned servicemen in this district. I will leave it to your discretion if and when you give it to Clarence. It may go some way,’ suggested Arthur, ‘in helping him.’

  ‘May I ask why you have held it so long?’

  Arthur blinked at the direct but fair question. ‘As I hinted before,’ replied Arthur, ‘you could have called Clarence and I mates when we were overseas. But since your arrival in Gilmurra, my attempts to socialise with your husband have not been received well.’

  ‘I have seen that,’ said Ruth apologetically, ‘and his behaviour towards you has always confused me, so I am sorry Arthur, whatever his reasons may be.’

  A knock on the heavy timber doors interrupted the conversation. The secretary entered the room seconds later.

  ‘Yes, Anne?’ said Arthur, while he stayed seated.

  ‘Your wife is here to see you, Mr Atkins.’

  ‘Thank you, Anne, tell Mrs Atkins that I will be finished with my appointment shortly.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Atkins,’ replied the secretary obediently.

  ‘I will leave, Arthur, so you can continue with your day,’ said Ruth, as she rose from her seat.

  Arthur stood to shake Ruth’s hand.

  ‘I feel humbled, Ruth,’ said Arthur, a slight quake in his voice, ‘that you have approached me today. You have shown great courage to pursue the concerns you have for Clarence. You have my word that this discussion will remain private.’

  ‘Thank you, Arthur,’ replied Ruth, ‘for your kindness and understanding. It has helped me.’

  ‘I will make a few innocuous changes to your last will and testament,’ said Arthur with a smile, as he escorted Ruth to the door— ‘for my secretary’s sake.’

  Ruth looked at Arthur Atkins, and smiled in recognition of his discretion. As she passed through the reception, Ruth smiled at Anne and said a friendly hello to Mrs Atkins. Margaret Atkins had to repress her rage when she noticed the embroidered ‘A A’ on the corner of a handkerchief Mrs Miller clasped in her hands.

  TWENTY THREE

  Denman Hill June 1924

  The sound of a vehicle took Ruth’s attention away from her inspection of ripening navel oranges; the full and rounded fruit contrasted with the greenness that surrounded her on a bright but cool winter’s afternoon.

  She recognised the vehicle and she smiled at love—young and energised—once matched, yielding to no other force on earth. Norman’s punctuality was testimony to it. Ruth bent down to lift the bucket at her feet and selected three of the heavier oranges, and moved on to the lemon tree.

  The kitchen door slammed in the distance; it told Ruth there would be no need to call for Alice to greet her visitor. A figure adorned in a long white dress—previously kept for special occasions—floated past Ruth. Alice’s gait flowed with elegance and suggested that this was such an occasion. Her controlled manner hid a desire to break into a run, reducing the time spent apart.

  Ruth made her way back to the kitchen. She enjoyed the light that Norman and Alice’s courtship had brought to Denman Hill. It was a brightness that was needed to counter the ashen clouds of Clarence’s woe. It rolled across the paddocks and touched everyone who could lay claim to being a part of his life.

  At times, Ruth had felt nauseous since she had met with Arthur Atkins. She had taken Arthur’s letter home and hid it in a drawer until the right time came to pass it on. That moment had become harder to recognise with each day that passed, and her stalling had brought on waves of anxiousness that were now more prevalent in her demeanour. Eventually and ashamedly, out of a desire to avoid conflict, Ruth decided to read the letter herself rather than give it to her husband. Her conscience rationalised the decision by suggesting he would only throw it away.

  The contents of the letter had enlightened Ruth in many ways, but also posed other questions that could only be answered by Clarence. Why was Arthur saying that Clarrie should not feel responsible for Archie’s fate? What were ‘the orders’ that Clarence was obliged to follow?

  There was a brief mention of Arthur and Clarence being together when her husband was wounded; Arthur had also sustained a wound to his leg. Did this provide a clue to Clarence’s rudeness towards Mr Atkins?

  The letter had helped her. She could now understand why he wouldn’t want to talk about such horrendous things. Why he would not want to be reminded that of the 850 of his 53rd Battalion that went into battle, only 227 answered the roll call on the morning of the 21st of July?

  With the exception of his older brother, Ruth had never heard Clarence talk about anyone like he spoke of his friend Sticks. With excruciating pain, Ruth recalled the letter that informed her of his death, and with empathy clouded by despondency, she realised why he never mentioned either name.

  Tired from the emotional peaks and troughs, Ruth stared out the kitchen window. An altar of sorts, were she could cast her thoughts, and piece together images that floated back and forth. Gradually she allowed—or weakened to—slivers of doubt. The unwavering and self-motivating ideal that love would overcome any obstacle was threatened by uncertainty. It crept through her defences, while a bizarre image of Arthur Atkins holding her hand shamed her into looking towards the ground. The kitchen door opened with a creak, and joyful laughter brought a wave of cheerfulness into the room. It pulled Ruth away from annulling fantasy and reminded her of a solemn promise.

  ***

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Miller,’ said Norm. He held documents folded in half; the papers caught Ruth’s eye.

  ‘Hello, Norman,’ Replied Ruth, ‘how was work this week?’

  ‘Busy, with Mr Peade away.’

  ‘Ruth,’ said Alice eagerly, ‘is Clarence nearby? Norman would like to speak with him.’

  ‘He is over at the shearing shed with Reginald,’ replied Ruth, curious, but slightly alarmed at why Alice would interject on Norman’s behalf. Obviously not work related, she thought. ‘I think he said he needed to repair one of the holding yards.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Alice. She looked impatient. ‘You could walk over and give him a hand, Norman.’

  ‘He should be home any minute,’ said Ruth, ‘have you had lunch?’

  ‘Yes, I have, Mrs Miller, thank you.’

  ‘You might catch him on the way back,’ suggested Alice, determined to get her way. ‘I will stay here with Ruth and Emily.’

  Ruth could see that although Norman stood at well over six foot and looked as strong as an ox, he was as pliable as wet clay in the presence of Alice.

  ***

  Clarence and Norm walked with heavy feet and were deep in concentrated, but amiable conversation. They strode into the kitchen with Reggie, who carried a jawbone from a long-deceased sheep.

  ‘Reginald, what is that in your hand?’ cried his mother, revealing her city upbringing.

  ‘A dinosaur bone,’ replied the young man proudly. ‘Norm helped me finded it.’

  ‘Aren’t you lucky,’ replied Ruth, recovered from her shock. ‘I have a sandwich ready for you, so put your fossil away and wash up.’

  ‘It’s a dinosaur, Mum.’

  ‘You’re right, sorry, now go and wash.’

  ‘Ruth,’ said Clarence, ‘Could Alice sit with Reg while he has his lunch? Norman has something he would like to share with us.’

  Alice stood on the far side of the table and looked offended at being excluded. She was still the baby sister in Clarence’s eyes. Ruth wiped her hands on her apron and tried to think what Norman would want to talk about, apart from the obvious and uncomfortable discussion that sometimes arose between unmarrie
d couples and parents. Ruth nodded and smiled like you do when someone serves you an unappealing meal; she removed her apron and gestured down the hall towards the sitting room. Alice took a seat at the kitchen table and withheld any eye contact from an apologetic Norman.

  Ruth walked with a fluency that could suggest grace or caution in the anticipation of upheaval. She led the men into the large room at the front of the house and wondered if Norman had already asked for Alice’s hand in marriage. Too soon, she thought. But okay for you and Clarence, came a reply from deeper within her consciousness.

  ‘Why don’t we sit at the dining table?’ suggested Clarence.

  Norman and Ruth took a seat at the polished dining table that was another gift from Ruth’s mother. It was kept for entertaining, which was rare in their situation, and was guarded by a matching cabinet.

  ‘While we were in the shearing shed,’ said Clarence, ‘young Norm put forward a business proposition that I think is worth listening to.’

  ‘Business proposition?’ stated Ruth. Her tone came across as incredulous, when what she was feeling was relief. That reaction brought on guilt. Why would I feel apprehensive about Alice being married? she thought.

  ‘Yes, dear, listen to what Norman has to say. Norm, tell Mrs Miller what you told me.’

  ‘Well,’ started Norman, nervously. ‘As you know things haven’t turned out the way Bill Donaghey and his wife Mary had planned, and they have decided to pack up and leave their property Annondale, and return to Newcastle.’

  ‘I will miss them,’ said Ruth, ‘they have become good friends of ours.’

  ‘Yes, they are very nice people, Mrs Miller,’ replied Norman sincerely.

  ‘My whole life,’ continued Norm, ‘has revolved around farming. The decision to leave my family’s property stemmed from the fact that I was the second youngest. The size of our place and lack of local opportunities restricted my choices, hence my relocation to Gilmurra. The land is in my blood, and I have been looking for an opportunity to run my own place… and I believe I have found it.’

  With the anxiousness about nuptials gone, Ruth listened to Norman Clark speak. She was captivated by the easy, yet commanding way in which he discussed matters of business. He showed a maturity and level-headiness that had seen him do so well with Thomas Peade.

  Norman, while sympathetic to the Donagheys’ plight, told the Millers how it was a common occurrence within the Soldier Settlers Scheme. Many men had descended into ruin after enduring poor returns brought about by lack of knowledge, harsh conditions, and lack of capital. Ruth said a silent prayer for her parents who had seen them through tough times.

  While they asked the occasional question, Clarence and Ruth listened as Norman outlined his proposal. He stated that he felt the size of the blocks had a lot to do with the inadequacy of return. His recent studies suggested to him that new practices could also increase productivity; it convinced him that what he had in mind would be a success.

  ‘My plan, Mrs Miller, which I hope to be our plan, is that we form a partnership and combine two farms to run them together as one. The benefits will be a joint labour force with increased buying power when low prices present opportunities, and a rise in production through better farming. We could introduce crop and stock rotation, made available by the larger acreage, techniques most people on the land dismiss—to their disadvantage. In time,’ Norman paused as he drew near the end of his presentation, ‘with our position strengthened through the implementation of these practices, and others,’ he held up the papers he had brought, ‘we will be in a position to expand and secure our families’ future.’ The use of the word families stuck Ruth as more than coincidental.

  Ruth stayed silent for a moment, while she attempted to digest what was a well-considered and put-forward plan. She looked Norman directly in the eye before she spoke, while Clarence looked on eagerly.

  ‘Norman, what you have said sounds very interesting, but as you could appreciate, there would be many things for our family to consider. I would like to take some time to discuss it with Mr Miller before we give you an answer.’

  ‘Naturally, Mrs Miller,’ replied Norman, still full of enthusiasm, ‘everything related to my plan is in here,’ he continued. He held out the documents and hesitated about whom to hand them to. Common practice was that it should be Mr Miller, but the mood around the table suggested it would be Ruth. Not wanting to upset the balance, Ruth gave an imperceptible shift of her eyes that instructed Clarence to accept the bundle of papers from Norman.

  The meeting over, Ruth stood, and Norman rose quickly to stand. Clarence sat to flick through the documents, and missed the opportunity to show the etiquette expected of a gentleman on the land.

  TWENTY FOUR

  Gilmurra, September 1924

  Spring was Ruth’s favourite time of year; the temperature was warm but not hot. The grass was green, and blossoms varied in colour and brilliance; it made the main street of Gilmurra appear as a playground.

  Ruth walked slowly past the bakery. She stopped and turned to wait for Emily. She was good on her feet for a two-year old, but readily distracted by anything that passed her line of sight. She bent down to pick her daughter up and then waved enthusiastically towards the bakery window where Ally was trying to get M’s attention. Emily squealed with excitement when she saw her aunt, which caused an elderly couple to jump with fright as they walked with rounded shoulders past Ruth and her excited daughter. Not one to stay still for long, Emily squirmed in Ruth’s arms until she was placed on the ground. She let out another squeal as Reggie ran past her.

  ‘Quiet, Emily, or people will think I have raised unruly children,’ whispered the proud mother, not in the least embarrassed by her daughter’s enthusiasm. She looked back towards the bakery and glowed with pride at the woman Alice had become. The business proposition put forward to the Miller’s by Norman Clark had been accepted after careful consideration and advice from Arthur Atkins. The meetings that Clarence was required to attend were strained at times, but at no time through the fault of Mr Atkins.

  Once Ruth’s parents—as creditors of the Millers—had agreed, the deal was finalised. This was followed promptly by a proposal of marriage from Norman to Alice. Ruth smiled while she watched her children and remembered how she had remarked to Norman quietly, that she hadn’t recalled the tabling of a marriage proposal while reading his business plan. Norman blushed at Ruth’s suggestion, but took the joke in good humour.

  The new partnership, had in fact, brought a sense of security to Ruth. Her husband, while energised at times by his business partner’s implementations, slipped with regularity into moments of melancholy. Sometimes solemn in its affliction, in other instances irritable and aggressive, it was always treated—whether at the Royal or at home—with debilitating alcohol.

  Ruth’s smile, while she watched over her children, was replaced by a tightening of her jaw, induced by thoughts of her husband’s drunken actions. As was her way, Ruth was bound by loyalty and the determination to be a light for her family to follow, so she turned her considerations back to Alice and the children.

  In a casual way, Ruth took in the surrounds of the busy street and noticed Arthur and Margaret Atkins as they approached.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Miller,’ said Arthur. He tipped his hat and hid his feelings for Ruth by being as formal as expected when greeting a married woman.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Atkins.’

  ‘You remember my wife, Margaret.’

  ‘Of course, how do you do?’

  ‘I’m very well,’ replied Mrs Atkins haughtily. The clenched handkerchief—its story not pursued and so unexplained—still burned in her mind. ‘My, what playful children you have,’ she continued. The comment was deliberately meant to condescend.

  ‘Young Emily certainly has a lot of energy,’ replied Ruth.

  ‘She is very pretty, and grown so quickly,’ stated Arthur. He did his best to make up for his wife’s rudeness. ‘How is Clarence?’ The question
could be taken as polite conversation or an offer of assistance.

  ‘He is well, thank you, Arthur. Working hard with young Norman,’ replied Ruth. She wanted to ask Albert for advice or possibly intervention but was prevented from doing through politeness. Ruth was unwilling to embarrass Mr Atkins in front of his wife. The woman had an air of superiority that she found hard—or didn’t try— to conceal.

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ replied Arthur, but he took note of Ruth’s eyes as they darted away. ‘We’ve had some good rain over the winter, so we should be able to make use of a productive spring.’

  ‘We all hope so,’ replied Ruth. She knew Arthur was being polite to make up for his wife, and she suddenly wished the conversation would end. ‘It is nice to see you both, but I think I should grab young Emily before she wanders off,’ said Ruth, in an attempt to bring an easy close to the conversation.

  ‘Certainly, Ruth. Maybe Clarence will join us in the march next April.’

  ‘I hope so, Arthur,’ replied Ruth, but the subject would not be raised with her husband.

  Ruth gathered her two children and gave a cursory glance towards the bakery. She hoped to catch Ally’s eye before they moved off. The shop was now devoid of customers, and Ruth noticed Alice deep in conversation with her husband. The young couple, who had exchanged vows in St Andrew’s in early August, were oblivious to the world around them. Ruth remembered times when she was encased in the same cocoon.

  ‘Your aunty has gone and grown up on us, Emily,’ she said with fondness and recognition of change.

  She took Reggie by the hand and started to walk towards Peades’ Stock & Station Agents, where Clarence had called in earlier. The Millers had purchased everything from seed and fertiliser, to fencing-­wire and farming equipment from Thomas Peade over the years. Clarrie would often visit Tom to glean whatever he could about the latest farming innovations, as well as advice on local tried-and-trusted farming methods. Tom had been very good to the Millers. Early on, he had generously walked over their property with Clarrie and made suggestions on what could and what wouldn’t work. Tom gave Clarence encouragement when needed, and a pat on the back when he made some good decisions of his own.