Beneath the Willow

by Michael J Murphy

  He had ridden the wave when the Nationalists had lost fifteen seats and government, including the seat of Stanley Bruce, the coalition leader and Prime Minister. He had prevailed when Bruce’s men—in opposition—had been absorbed into the United Australia Party led by former Labor man, Joseph Lyons, to become the new coalition partner of the Country Party. The new political force had defeated Scullin in a landslide, and he had held the party line right through the 1930s; when not once—much to Margaret’s chagrin—was he offered a front bench position.

  All through this time, he thought, as the train’s whistle blew, he had stayed true to his beliefs. And now, as the train jolted into motion, he realised he felt tired. Arthur looked down at the paper he held—a day old—and was struck by the headline and the irony it held. For the majority of his political life, he had fought, not only for his electorate, but for the rights of returned service men, and now he saw the words: ‘Germany Invades Poland.’

  Deep in thought, Arthur didn’t hear the door to the compartment slide open. He pondered, without hope of an easy answer, how the world had come to this again.

  ‘Tickets please, sir,’ said an elderly conductor.

  Arthur lifted his head to smile at the man.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, Mr Atkins,’ said the conductor, ‘I didn’t realise you were back home.’

  ‘Hello, Bill,’ replied Arthur. The elderly man’s face showed that he was chuffed to be recognised by a sitting member of parliament, regardless of the fact that he had known Arthur since he was a little boy. ‘Just a quick visit this time, Bill.’

  ‘Horrible business that, isn’t it,’ said Bill. He pointed to the newspaper and then punched Arthur’s ticket.

  Arthur stared at the newspaper but didn’t answer. He had spent the most recent years of his life making speeches and putting his point forward, but now he was suddenly unable to speak. He was struck by the simplicity of the man’s statement and its truth. A horrible business it is, he said silently, the most horrible of any kind.

  Bill felt uncomfortable in the silence and excused himself with a tip of his hat.

  ***

  Alice removed the roast lamb from the stove, just as Reginald, Judith and little David pulled up to the front of the house. Emily walked quickly down the hall towards the front door after she had heard the vehicle. She had come back to Avondale with Alice as usual for her school holiday stay, but that morning she had told Alice that she would like to spend a few nights at her brother’s house. The desire to spend time with her little nephew outweighed any argument she might have with Reginald.

  The aroma of a traditional Sunday roast greeted the Millers as they entered the house. Emily fussed over Judith and David. She walked backwards down the hallway and stayed as close to the little baby as possible.

  ‘Emily,’ cried Alice in a motherly way, ‘give your sister-in-law some room.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Emily as she stepped to one side.

  ‘Hello Judith, Reg,’ said Norm, before he stepped through the lounge room doorway. He held a folded newspaper in his hand. Its contents had not altogether surprised him, but it was still being digested; the unacceptable aggression by Germany had brought to an almost certain reality what many had foreseen. It brought into action a decision Norm had already made.

  ‘Hello, Norman,’ replied Judith with a smile, ‘thank you for inviting us over.’

  ‘Our pleasure; would you like to put that in the spare room?’ said Norm, pointing to the bassinet that Reg held.

  ‘If it’s not too much trouble Norm, thank you,’ said Judith.

  ‘Follow me, Reg.’

  ‘The lamb’s ready,’ said Alice, ‘come and have a seat while I get Norm to carve.’

  ‘I think Hitler has finally prodded the old Lion into action,’ said Reg.

  ‘Certainly looks that way,’ replied Norman while he took the bassinet from Reg.

  ‘It will if England and France stand true to their word,’ replied Reg in an excited voice, ‘and not hang the Poles out to dry like they did the poor old Czechs!’

  ‘Reg,’ said Norm quietly but firmly, while he turned to face the younger man. Norm realised that even though one of Reg’s sermons was most likely unavoidable, he had probably reacted too early to reign him in, and adjusted his approach accordingly. ‘Whatever happens will happen in due course.’ Norm tried to make a point without the appearance of a lecture; he paused for a moment. ‘I have the radio on in the lounge-room, I...’

  His blood still up, Reginald took that as an invitation to move to the room where the radio sat but was halted by Norm’s voice.

  ‘I am sure you and I think the same… we would like to protect the ladies from as much of this as possible… tough times lie ahead.’

  ‘Of course, Norm,’ said Reg. He knew he was being instructed, but to keep the perception of his own manhood, he went along with Norm.

  ‘Alice has cooked a roast,’ said Norm. ‘Why don’t we enjoy that, and then we can retire to the lounge,’ continued Norman. He had other things on his mind. He used the pretence of calmness as a way to divert his own misgivings as to how he would best tell Alice that he had decided to enlist, should war be declared.

  ***

  With baby David content and asleep, the Millers decided to stay for supper. The huge lunch that Alice prepared earlier made the evening meal a light one, and after Emily had cleared the table, they moved onto the verandah to enjoy a crystal-clear spring evening. The ladies wore cardigans, and they all sipped tea to keep the cool but pleasant air at bay. The near full moon stood like a sentry and guarded the property, casting a soft light over the surrounding paddocks.

  ‘Isn’t the moon lovely?’ said Emily, as she leaned over the balustrade and stared into the sky.

  ‘It’s a waning gibbous,’ commented Reginald.

  ‘Oh, really, Reggie,’ mocked Emily in an aristocratic voice.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ replied Reg matter-of-factly, ‘I thought they may have taught you that at school.’

  ‘Now, now you two,’ interjected Alice, ‘it’s been a lovely evening, let us not spoil it.’

  ‘What time did they say the Prime Minister will speak on the radio, Uncle Norm? said Emily, changing the subject. She smiled as she watched her older brother brood over their exchange.

  ‘9.15, M,’ replied Norm. He smiled at his niece’s cheek and her ability to rile her brother.

  ‘Do you think there will be war?’ continued Emily.

  ‘Of course there will be,’ blurted Reg. ‘the Nazis have gone too far this time, even for an appeaser like Chamberlain.’

  Emily looked towards her brother without a word, and then directed her gaze back to Norm, which irked Reginald even more.

  Norm, like Alice, wanted the night to pass peacefully, so he chose to answer in a way that would keep Reginald’s temper from getting the better of him.

  ‘I have to agree with your brother, M, war does look likely.’ Emily gasped as her trusted uncle spoke the words. ‘But I pray, like everyone, that Germany will back down.’

  Reg went to speak, not satisfied with Norm’s olive branch, but desisted. Norman’s stern look reminded Reg of their earlier conversation.

  ‘I pray that they find a peaceful solution,’ said Judith. ‘What good comes of war?’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Alice, seated in her favourite rocking chair. She stared blindly into the night. ‘What good?’ she said again before she sipped on her tea. Her mind was with Archie and Clarence, her mother and father, Frank—who she sometimes forgot existed. ‘War... war destroyed my family,’ she stated. She stood and entered the house. Her departure left a chill that swept like a ghost along the verandah. It touched each person and affected them in their own way.

  ‘I will go and speak to her,’ said Norm quietly. His wife’s release of her innermost thoughts, like a dagger to his guilt-ridden heart. The magnitude of the decision he had made struck him with a realism that left him with a desire for atonement, even before he enacted the
hurt.

  ***

  Sorry, not for what she had said, nor for when she said it; for she felt it needed to be said. She was just sorry—as she always was—for causing any form of upset. Alice placed a tray, with a fresh pot of tea and biscuits, on a small table in the centre of the lounge room and refilled everyone’s cup. As they gathered around the radio and waited for the address from the Prime Minister, each person gave Alice a reassuring smile and a thank you. Each let her know that they were all family, there for her when she needed them.

  Norman adjusted the volume and then stood back to receive suggestions, before he resumed his seat in a large leather armchair. Alice moved alongside him and sat on the chair arm; she took Norm’s hand in hers. Reg sat forward slightly on the two-seater with Judith, while Emily stood behind her with one hand on Judith’s shoulder; the other nervously straightened her dress.

  A moment’s silence came over the radio, followed by some background noise, and then a voice.

  ‘Here is the Prime Minister of Australia, the right honourable R.G. Menzies.’

  ‘Fellow Australians, it is my melancholy duty to inform you officially that in consequence of a persistence by Germany in her invasion of Poland, Great Britain has declared war upon her and that, as a result, Australia is also at war.’

  Judith gasped as Alice squeezed Norm’s hand hard, while she raised her other hand to her mouth. Reg slumped back in his seat, numb, now that what he had spoken of so vigorously had arrived in a sentence. Emily slowly removed her hand from Judith’s shoulder and moved to sit by her brother’s feet.

  ‘No harder task can fall to the lot of a democratic leader than to make such an announcement...’

  Only Norman stayed seated to hear the Prime Minister’s full speech; Judith, summoned by a baby’s cry, excused herself and hurried down the hall. With the status quo disrupted, there was a gradual departure of people from the lounge room; Reginald was the first to leave, followed by Alice.

  Emily sat with her uncle for a few minutes, and then rose to her feet. She realised that Norm was engrossed in the radio, not her presence, which made it easier for her to depart. She made her way to the verandah, where she found her brother. He leaned against one of the many timber posts that supported the porch roof. His face and body were softly lit by the calm light of the moon. Emily thought it made him look younger—more composed. Reg lifted his head slightly and blew a cloud of tobacco smoke into the air. The habit of cigarettes had recently become part of his life.

  ‘Hello, Reg,’ said Emily; it sounded odd to her once it was said.

  Reg nodded towards her, but didn’t speak. He looked back towards the open space in front of the house. The dark and twisted gum trees, which had survived indiscriminate clearing many years ago, appeared to Reg as disgruntled custodians of a sacred but disturbed place. Emily allowed him his space, and moved towards the rail directly in front of her. She contemplated what she had just heard on the radio.

  ‘Some time back, a year perhaps’ said Reginald suddenly, ‘while you were home from school, you asked me about our parents.’

  Emily turned to face her brother, but remained where she was, surprised at the topic Reg had raised.

  ‘I didn’t answer you,’ continued Reg, ‘and I suppose, you would probably wonder why I would act in that way.’ Reg paused to draw back on his smoke. He still stared intently at the eucalypt guardsmen. ‘I think of our mother a lot, though it’s getting harder, more of a feeling than a recollection of events. She was beautiful and loving, I can remember that.’

  A tear rolled down Emily’s face and rested on her upper lip. She raised her hand to wipe it. In the strange light, the figure on the verandah seemed more like an apparition than her brother; his mood and countenance were at odds with what Emily had come to expect. Reg’s voice carried words and thoughts that were precious beyond belief, like hot sands that had known the caressing effect of water, but were tortured by its limited supply.

  ‘My father… our father, he was different.’ Like he was in confession, Reg paused, while he considered how much to say. His options were limited. ‘I remember him giving me a teddy bear as a present; in my mind I cannot see his face, but I know he is there handing it to me. I called it Harvey.’

  Emily lifted her hand once again to her mouth and pushed her lips together, a reaction to the image of a little boy, feet dangling off a bed, innocent and impressionable.

  ‘But I remember being scared of him. I remember running after he would hit me and hiding, and I remember my mother crying.’

  The metallic sound of a door handle being turned caused Emily to turn away from her brother. She looked towards the front door of the house and saw her Aunt Alice step past the threshold.

  ‘Emily,’ said Alice, ‘I thought I heard someone out here.’

  Emily looked back towards her brother and lamented her Aunt’s timing. She felt despondent, for, like the apparition she had seen him to be, her brother—speaking to her as he never had—was gone.

  ‘Are you alright, dear?’ asked Alice, as she noticed Emily’s tear-filled eyes. ‘It’s upsetting, the thought of war, but you have us, dear; you will always have us.’

  Emily leaned into Alice’s hug, her thoughts with Reg. Alice’s last words rung in her ears. My mother probably promised us the same thing, she thought, you will always have us.

  TWENTY NINE

  Avondale, 5 September, 1939

  ‘Why, Norman, why?’ cried Alice, as she broke away from her husband. Norman, who stood on the lawn at the rear of their house, watched Alice. He had prepared himself for a reaction. He stood motionless as Alice walked a few paces to stand beside an immature elm tree. One arm was folded to her chest, the other supported the hand that clasped her face.

  Norman took a step towards his wife, but she spun violently. She took her hand from her face and thrust it towards him.

  ‘Stop, Norman,’ yelled Alice. Her heart screamed with fear and abandonment. ‘Why would you do this to me!’ The ‘you’ was not Norman, but her life. Norman would bear the brunt though, for he had delivered life’s most recent blow.

  ‘Ally!’

  ‘Why, Norman?’ continued Alice. She cried hysterically before she ran and left Norm alone where he stood. Norm’s shoulders were hunched, his face lined with despair for the hurt he had caused, but his resolve was shamefully unmoved. That feeling caused Norm to ask questions that had never previously risen.

  ***

  Several hours passed before Alice returned to the house. She entered through the back door that led into an annex and found her husband at the kitchen table with a newspaper in hand. A tea cup—long since emptied—sat close to his right hand.

  Norm stood and moved towards Alice, who rushed forward to embrace the man she loved.

  ‘I know it’s hard to understand, Ally,’ said Norm, as he held Alice’s head to his chest, ‘but it is something I feel I must do.’

  Alice listened to Norm speak and knew that no matter what they said to each other, things wouldn’t change. She knew her husband to be a thoughtful and intelligent man, who wasn’t prone to making rash decisions. It was likely that he had thought of this for some time, well before the Prime Minister’s speech. But it didn’t stop her asking herself—why?

  ‘You are all I have, Norman,’ said Alice as she lifted her head to reveal eyes that glistened with tears. ‘If I could stop you, I would, a thousand times over. I don’t care that tyrants need to be stood up to and stopped, I honestly don’t—not when it’s thousands of miles away. I just want you by my side forever. But… ’ Alice paused to sit at the table. Norm did the same while he held his wife’s hand. ‘But—the crazy thing is—and I thought of this while I cried my eyes out and wondered who or what I was upset with. I knew, as I always have, that I love you, more than anything, I love you, Norman, and I could never ask you to be anyone other than you.’

  Humbled by Alice’s honesty and selflessness, Norm leant over and kissed his wife. He gently wiped away a
tear that slid down her cheek. He followed—with his lips—the path of his own hand, not touching but near. He caught the familiar scent of his wife’s skin, soft and pure; the pleasure from this simple act forced him to close his eyes. He allowed his hand to fall over her shoulder and down to her waist, and he felt the surge of desire that always had bewitched him. Norm opened his eyes to see the lady he had married fifteen years ago, and contemplations of what he would expose to chance entered his mind.

  ‘You know that I am sorry, don’t you Norm?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Ally,’ replied Norm as he returned to his seat. He squeezed the hand that he had held all this time. ‘I would be concerned if you didn’t get upset,’ he added, and then laughed a little. He admired his wife’s courage.

  ‘Not that,’ replied Alice, ‘I was angry in the backyard, I am still angry, just not at you.’ Alice shifted in her seat and looked at the timber floor; the seriousness of Norm’s announcement had drawn her to address something that had always remained unsaid. ‘I am sorry, Norman,’ continued Alice. She no longer looked at the floor but directly into her husband’s eyes, ‘I am sorry that I have never been able to give you a child.’

  Norman opened his mouth, but no words came. He was shocked, but also heartbroken that Alice, the woman he loved, could think that what she confessed to being a sorrowful regret, was a burden she should carry alone.

  ‘I know you love me, Norman, and I feel loved, but I wanted that so badly for you—for us.’

  He searched for words that could give any comfort at all to Ally, however small; he felt overwhelmed and reached out once more to hug his wife. ‘I love you, Alice. You have done nothing but bring happiness to my life. It has always been you, and you alone, that feeds my every want in this world.’ He held his wife’s shoulders in his powerful hands. The scene may have appeared aggressive to a person who stumbled into the room, but this was Norm’s best known way of conveying his deepest, most sincere feelings. His arms, as he held Alice tightly, relayed all the emotion he had coiled up in his masculine frame. ‘Alice, I would be just another farmer’s son if I hadn’t met you; working and resting, never knowing, let alone feeling, what it is to be someone’s love, their friend and companion.’