‘Oh, isn’t that wonderful Reg,’ exclaimed Alice, truly delighted. ‘I am so pleased for you.’ She stepped forward to embrace the new dad.
Reginald exhaled quickly, a short huff laced with a faint smile. He was overwhelmed, caught somewhere between his own emotions and the self-doubt that came with sudden and undeniable responsibility.
‘If you care to follow me, Mr Miller, said the Matron, I will take you to your wife and son.’
Alice didn’t think and took a step forward to join them. The Matron turned and raised a hand to stop her. The act was not intended to offend, but delivered in the same way a ticket collector might stop a child from stepping onto the Ferris wheel at a fairground when the ride was full. Abruptly—in a moment of joy—it reminded Alice that she was unable to bear children. A hurt, amongst many in her life, that ached in the most indescribable way.
‘Just the parents for the moment, I’m sorry.’
‘Of course,’ replied Alice.
Without a consoling touch or gentle word Reginald moved down the corridor, escorted by the matron; once again Alice was not surprised.
***
Emily busied herself about the house in anticipation of the arrival of Judith and little baby David. She cleaned the mess that her brother had allowed to accumulate in his wife’s absence. Home from Saint Catherine’s while on school holidays, she mentally ran through her list of friends at boarding school who could boast to having a nephew at the age of sixteen, and found there to be none. It brought a smile to her face.
In an attempt to avoid confrontations with her brother, she had elected to stay with Aunt Alice and Uncle Norm at Avondale while on holidays. Although Reg was now married, the clashes of personalities that had existed between brother and sister since Emily was able to speak had not lessened, despite the accommodations of her lovely sister-in-law Judith. If she were to answer directly—which she never had a problem with doing—Emily would say that the thought of Judith’s comfort was the reason she had cleaned so vigorously, not any overbearing sense of sisterly duty.
Energetic and independent when a young girl, Emily had grown into a passionate and idealistic young lady. She had often been told—particularly by her aunt—that she was a lot like her mother, with her father’s eyes, which always brought a feeling of warmth, closely followed by regret.
Her only attachments to her deceased parents were photographs, relayed stories and the unique spiritual bond that exists between mother and child. She had always, even more so of late, shown a desire to know her parents, and Alice had done her best to satisfy Emily’s curiosity. She told Emily of her own feelings towards Ruth, and the mystical spell that she had captivated her with while a young girl. Alice relived the almost fairy-tale like memories of Emily’s parents’ wedding, the times when she would secretly watch Ruth read letters from Clarence who was serving overseas. She relayed, with sadness, the misunderstood tear that she would watch roll down the cheek of the mother, that would in turn roll down the cheek of the daughter as she listened.
For his own reasons, Reginald wasn’t as welcoming when Emily had approached him one evening to talk of their parents. He brushed her off the instant she mentioned their names; one of the reasons, among many, why Emily saw her brother as weak.
Emily possessed a sharp intellect and had been sent to board at the prestigious Saint Catherine’s in Melbourne to further her education. She had repaid Alice’s and Norm’s faith in her and their investment by studying diligently. She topped her class in everything but religion, much to the displeasure of the nuns. Emily’s questions—which were dismissed and then eventually ignored—were too frequent and disruptive for their liking. A conversation with a conciliatory Aunt Alice was needed to alleviate any tensions and avert the installation of obstacles to her advancement.
She dusted the skirting boards in the lounge room, and then stood upright abruptly. Her ears picked up the sound of the Ford coupe utility as it made its way sedately along the driveway. Emily looked out the window to confirm what she heard, and glimpsed the dark blue vehicle before it disappeared into a slight depression. Excited, Emily scurried down the hall for the back door.
Emily negotiated the path around the house, and waited impatiently for the vehicle to appear. She raised her arms above her head as the vehicle pulled out of the gully and came into view. She smiled and waved happily at Reginald as he stepped out of the car. Her brother tipped his hat and then gave a warm smile in return. The deed signified the magnitude of the event—the moment not lost on Emily.
Reg walked around the vehicle and opened the passenger side door to allow his wife to step out. Judith looked radiant as she moved into the winter sunshine with her baby held securely in her arms.
Emily approached Judith and kissed her on the cheek; cautiously, she placed an arm around her, terrified of hurting little David.
‘I’m so excited, Jude,’ said Emily, as Reg removed Judith’s bags and the baby’s bassinet from the tray of the vehicle. ‘You look wonderful.’
‘Thank you, Emily,’ replied Judith proudly, ‘let’s go inside and you can hold him.’
Emily’s eyes widened, and she turned quickly to make for the house, only to be stopped by the sound of another vehicle—a Ford exactly like Reg’s, but white.
‘Aunt Alice, Uncle Norm, Judith is home,’ exclaimed Emily as the Clarks stepped out of their vehicle. Both the blue and the white Fords had been astute purchases by Norman. The vehicle’s load-carrying capacity classed it as a work truck, so it allowed the Miller-Clark partnership to obtain a loan to buy them. Norm negotiated a good price from a depression-hit dealer.
‘Yes, M,’ said Alice with a smile, ‘what wonderful timing.’
‘Congratulations Judith… Reg,’ said Norm, as he reached out to shake Reginald’s hand firmly.
‘Thank you, Norm,’ replied Reg. ‘Should we get the little fella inside?’
‘Certainly, Reg,’ said Alice.
‘Let me help you with the bags, mate,’ offered Norm.
‘Thanks.’
Norm and Alice stood back to allow Reg the honour of leading his family into the house. Norm felt a pang of discomfort while he witnessed the pleasant scene. The ache was lessened by the knowledge that they had been able to nurture two children into or near adulthood, giving all the parental love that they possessed. Unable to raise a family as nature intended, they gave Reg and Emily all the devotion, tenderness and kindness that nature would want.
***
Norman and Reg stepped out of the house and walked towards the milking shed, while Judith fed baby David. Alice and Emily remained inside to prepare lunch in the kitchen. Both of them were full of the unbridled joy that comes with a baby’s first day at home. Pleased to be back at Denman Hill after ten days in Gilmurra Hospital, Judith sat quietly in an armchair and stared in wonder at her son.
‘What made you choose David as a name?’ asked Emily. The question came out more intrusive than she intended. ‘It’s a lovely name,’ she continued quickly, ‘I was just curious.’
Judith paused for a moment to think and then looked up from her infant son. Although shy and reserved, Judith gave Alice the impression that she had a strength that lay well covered by her outward appearance. Brought up in a family of ten, her parents were hard workers and honest members of the community. Unskilled, Mr Pratt would do his best to provide in any way he could. Judith learnt early in life that not to expect helped to avoid disappointment. Maybe that was why she was drawn to Reginald. While undoubtedly self-centred, he had a certain arrogance around women, which could be construed as charm. He had shown interest in her, where others had not, and as sad as it may sound, that was a reason in itself. Judith’s domestic situation had not provided for nice dresses and attendance at social functions.
‘I had a few in mind, Emily,’ replied Judith, ‘but David just came to me. I suppose I should have consulted Reginald, but it just felt right.’
‘Good for you,’ stated Alice, pleased to jum
p into Judith’s corner and support her.
‘It means “beloved” or “friend”, and it may sound odd, but that is what I thought when I first looked at his little face. He will be a friend to all.’
‘How lovely,’ said Alice as she wiped a tear from her eye with a handkerchief.
***
‘I was thinking, Reg,’ said Norm while he propped himself against the milking shed, ‘we should look to put on one, possibly two men in the future.’
‘Do you think we need it?’ replied Reg. ‘I thought we were on top of things, and we are still recovering from the Depression.’
‘It’s probably a bad day to bring this up,’ said Norm. He knew Reg’s resistance to change, ‘with the baby coming home and everything.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ said Reg.
‘I just think it could be a good time to look at expanding. There’s a block of about one thousand acres with frontage to the Tilcan coming up for sale.’
‘Whereabouts?’
‘Sid Mortimer’s place.’
‘Oh,’ replied Reg. A feeling of inadequacy came over him. He couldn’t help it, but he was often consumed with jealousy when he was unable to see what other people could. There was no need for it. Different people have different strengths, Norm would tell him while he was growing up. Norm had learnt to interpret his behaviour over the years, and had decided not to impart too many truths, now that Reg was a married man. ‘If you think it is a good move, Norm, but...’
‘What’s on your mind Reg?’
‘Well, Europe, the Japanese, don’t you think we are headed for conflict in one way or another?’
‘Yes, more than likely,’ replied Norm in a confident voice. ‘But strange as it may seem, Reg, it may be all the more reason. We should go into town together next week and have a chat with the accountant. What do you say?’
‘Sure, Norm,’ replied Reg, annoyed that he somehow felt less in control than when he had stepped out of his vehicle to meet Emily.
‘Good, now let’s go and see this son of yours again, and toast his health,’ said Norm while he placed his arm, as thick as an oak branch, around Reg’s shoulders. The act unintentionally belittled the newly made father. It caused the cold iron doors that restricted Reg’s personality to contract a little more.
The afternoon passed quickly and turned to evening. The small gathering of Millers and Clarks had enjoyed the food prepared by Alice and Emily, with compliments given by all. Reg, who was now on the slide—after celebratory ales—was also unusually open with praise. As he moved from tipsy cheerfulness to objectionable drunk, the issue of world peace and his view on it found its way into the conversations.
Early in their courtship, Judith had noticed Reg’s lack of resistance to the effects of alcohol. At the time she had not read much into it, but now, perhaps with the protectiveness that comes with motherhood, she found it distasteful. She stood up in the middle of her husband’s lecture and moved to the stove to boil the kettle. Alice noticed Judith’s annoyance, and casually retrieved an unfinished platter of sandwiches. She offered the food to the distracted men and removed the beer glasses, to be replaced by cups of hot tea. She nudged Norm as she did and gave the much soberer man a wink and a nod in Reginald’s direction.
TWENTY EIGHT
Gilmurra, 3 September 1939
Through the open wrought iron gates supported by sandstone pillars, Alice walked along the gravel pathway that meandered through the Gilmurra cemetery. With a bouquet of flowers in her hand, she looked up through the canopy of pine branches and nettles. The light, warm in its touch, dazzled as it brushed her face, and flooded her mind with thoughts of Ruth and Clarence. Their death, fifteen years ago on this day, was still so raw and painful.
Alice noticed a figure approach from further along the path; she recognised the man and made eye contact.
‘Good morning, Mrs Clark,’ said Arthur. He had visited the Millers grave and was on his way to the train station.
‘Good morning, Mr Atkins,’ replied Alice politely. Neither person paused for small talk; both were there for the same reason, but with emotions that would not relate.
After a few minutes, Alice found herself at the headstone. A small bunch of flowers lay against the slightly weather-worn granite. She wiped a tear from her eye with a delicately made handkerchief, and placed her bouquet down, while she stared at the gold lettering that told the world that the couple that lay here once existed. It didn’t mention: that they were once very much in love, as much in love as any two people could be.
‘Your grandson is beautiful, and growing every day,’ said Alice in a whisper while she wiped her eyes again. ‘Judith is a wonderful mother. Reggie has a lovely little family. Emily… ’ Alice released a restrained cry as she thought of the young girl who had become a young lady, never knowing her parents. ‘Emily is a very bright young lady… you would be so proud. Like you, Clarrie, but so much like you Ruthy—independent and cheeky. She told me that she will study law at Sydney University, and I believe her. She gives those teachers in Melbourne a terrible time.’ Alice let out a laugh that turned into a cry, and she tucked her chin to her chest and covered her eyes with one hand in an effort to control it.
In the distance, the grind of a steam locomotive’s wheels, which had gripped and then slipped on the cold steel tracks, made its way to Alice on a light breeze. The clearer sound of its whistle confirmed the trains arrival in Gilmurra.
‘Speaking of M,’ said Alice quietly, ‘there she is… back from school. I will go and meet her, I’m sure she will want to come back up and visit. She loves you both.’ Alice kissed her own hand and then placed that hand gently on the headstone before she walked away.
On the platform of Gilmurra train station, Alice greeted a bubbly, slightly dishevelled Emily, who had sat up through the overnight journey from Melbourne. They embraced, exchanged pleasantries and then hugged again before they walked arm-in-arm to the cafe for tea and toast and a long talk. After they finished their pot of tea, they walked arm-in-arm again, through the wrought iron gates to Emily’s parents’ headstone. They talked some more, and then together in a moment of silence, they stared at the bleak headstone. Alice offered her embrace as comfort and held Emily while the young lady had her turn to cry.
***
The sight of Alice hugging the very grown-up Emily Miller on the train station platform gave Arthur Atkins mixed feelings of familiarity and detachment. He held an opened newspaper and looked out the window of his first-class compartment. He recalled how involved he had been with Reginald and Emily after the death of their parents. He had ensured all the legal requirements were in place for a smooth transition into guardianship for Norm and Alice, and he had re-worked the Miller and Clark partnership without interruption. Arthur’s work was meticulous and had satisfied Mr and Mrs Reynolds as to their grandchildren’s share in the pastoral enterprise. Now, with work and other commitments, and after fifteen long years, he would be surprised if Emily was able to recognise him should they cross paths in the street; would she have to ask his name when selling him a raffle ticket for the CWA? More than likely, he thought.
It had not been an easy time for Arthur after Clarence and Ruth had passed away. There were still times, not often—but often enough—when Arthur would allow questions to enter his mind in regard to the circumstances of their death. The period of examination would always be short lived; Arthur inevitably would chastise himself, he doubted if he or anyone had a right to question such things.
He had an undergone a period of separation from his wife after their heated exchange. It was declared—by both families—as an extended holiday for Margaret, its aim being to prevent gossip and damage to reputation. After an eventual reconciliation, motivated, not by love, but by considerations for their future, Arthur and Margaret lived the unhappy life of practicality—smiling in public, polite but mostly avoiding each other at home.
Arthur had engrossed himself in work and juggled his hours between the law
practice and his entry into public life. After long consideration, he had decided his conscience and his community would be best served if he were affiliated with the Country Party. He did not believe in a Socialist Australia, as hard-line Labor people did, and he didn’t feel comfortable with joining the Nationalist Party, with their ties to pro-conscription men such as Billy Hughes. The irony—as Arthur would have to confront—was in the compromises of politics that lay around every corner. The coalition between the Nationalists and Country Party would see him eventually co-exist with people he had tried to avoid. Arthur consoled himself in his devotion to winning his seat and serving his electorate.
After being introduced to the leader of the Country Party, Sir Earl Page, by a former University colleague, Arthur was put forward as the Country Party candidate for the seat of Colston in the 1925 federal election. Arthur had worked tirelessly within his electorate in the months that led up to the ballot. Supported by his wife at public engagements and his father’s office with day-to-day administration, he defeated John Higgins of Labor and the Independent candidate, James O’Donnell, in what could be described as a narrow margin.
Arthur’s hard work within his own electorate, and the perception of his constituents that he was an honest, reliable man, saw him re-elected at the next five consecutive federal elections. Each time, he increased his majority, even when in opposition to Scullin’s Labor government. This in turn increased his stature within the party, until the last election in 1937, when Gordon Higgins, a protégé of the current Labor leader John Curtin, and the son of Arthur’s former rival John Higgins, made a stunning debut. Higgins pulled thirty-eight per cent of the vote to Arthur’s forty-six, an increase to Labor from the previous election in 1934 of over eleven percent.
That last election had been a wake-up call for the member for Colston. Arthur wondered what he had done differently to cause the swing among his loyal voters. Maybe that was the problem, he thought, as a group of late-comers scurried onto the train bound for Canberra and then Sydney. A man in black uniform with a whistle held between his lips urged them over the gap that separated station from carriage.
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