Beneath the Willow

by Michael J Murphy

  ‘And I,’ exclaimed Reg, with his confidence returned, ‘need to be able to purchase things for the farms, on account—when I need them!’

  ‘Accounts from the Royal Hotel, overdue, mind you, for five pound three and sixpence, does not,’ shouted Alice, ‘constitute needs for the farm.’ She lowered her voice, but her blood still raced. ‘It should be a personal expense taken from the wage you draw.’

  Annoyed that his authority—so important to how he viewed himself—had been undermined in successive blows, he stewed in silence, and thrust out his hand for the statement that detailed his spending; Alice obliged.

  ‘How did the total get so high, Reg?’

  ‘Mind your own business!’

  The spring-hinged door to the kitchen banged. It announced that Judith had returned from her walk with little David, and caused Alice to turn her head towards the back of the house.

  ‘Well,’ replied Alice, as she shifted from businesswoman to de-facto mother, a reaction she couldn’t help sometimes, even when her nephew was being such a pig. ‘If you need some assistance, let me know.’

  Reg grunted and then roughly forced the bill into his trouser pocket. He slumped to resume his seat on the lounge, cross-legged, and with his chin cradled in thumb and forefinger. He stared blankly through the timber-sashed windows for as long as it took for Alice to leave the room.

  ‘Hello, Jude,’ said Alice as she stepped from the hall into the kitchen. ‘Good morning, little man,’ she said to the little toddler who clung to his mother’s leg.

  ‘Alice, what a nice surprise.’

  ‘Just popped over to go through the accounts with Reg; boring but has to be done.’

  ‘Better you than me,’ replied Judith, ‘It would give me a headache. Are you staying for tea and a fresh scone?’

  ‘How could I resist, Jude, thank you. Did you enjoy your walk with Mummy, King David?’

  ‘He did,’ replied Judith for her son, ‘but Mummy got tired of battling the bumpy road with that rigid pram. Have a seat, Alice, and I’ll go and ask Reg if he would like to join us.’ Judith picked David up and then passed him to his great-aunt before she walked down the hallway.

  Alice placed the adorable little boy on her knee. She stroked his straight brown hair and gazed into his round brown eyes—full of warmth and willingness to love. Alice kissed his forehead; it felt the most natural and perfect thing to do. ‘My, you have grown David,’ said Alice, ‘can you still ride a horse?’

  David nodded yes and said a soft ‘gee-up’, and then held on for dear life. He laughed with his head thrown back and mouth wide open, as Alice began to bounce him every which way; it made Alice smile. She glanced down and noticed a bruise on David’s leg, part way up his thigh. She stopped her horse games and had a closer look.

  ‘Is that sore, Davey?’ asked Alice in a soft voice. She pointed to the discoloured patch, which was not round, as most bruises were, but long and thin. ‘Does that “ouch”?’ repeated Alice to the toddler.

  David nodded yes, and then yelled, ‘Horsey,’ not ready to finish the game.

  ‘He’s not there,’ remarked Judith, as she re-entered the kitchen, ‘must have gone out the front door.’

  ‘Probably out in the front paddock,’ said Alice offhandedly before she placed a jovial David on the floor next to her. The young boy scurried away as soon as his feet touched the timber boards. ‘Have you seen that mark on David’s leg, Jude?’

  ‘Yes, poor little thing,’ replied Judith, ‘Reg said he fell off the back of the Ford when they were carting wood.’

  ‘Oh,’ replied Alice, not sure what to think.

  ‘Have you had a letter from Norman, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  ‘Not at all, Judith, I appreciate you asking; it helps to talk, I think it does anyway,’ said Alice. She moved her eyes to stare at the teacup Judith filled. A vision of Norman dressed in uniform entered her mind. It pushed to the side—for the time being—her concerns over David. Alice pictured her husband, tall and handsome, in front of the Queen Victoria building in Sydney. He had marvelled at the impressive structure on their short but enjoyable stay in the bustling city, and the thought made her smile. ‘I received a letter two days ago, actually… and I’ve been a bit selfish, I kept it to myself. I have read it over and over; stared at the photo he included, and then read the letter again.’

  Judith smiled and placed her hand on Alice’s as she took a seat across from her.

  ‘It sounds funny,’ continued Alice, ‘but it has been exhilarating in a way when I have held his letter and photograph at night; no one in the whole world except the two of us, a moment shared.’ Alice sighed. ‘It surprised me what can be extracted through words on a page.’

  Judith took a sip of her tea to allow Alice a moment. It made her think of things herself. Judith wondered for a moment, as she looked at Alice, had her husband Reginald experienced moments of solitude where he thought about her in the way that Alice obviously thought of Norm?

  ‘Did he mention where he was?’

  ‘He did, but it was crossed out. The photograph looked to be taken in some sort of studio with a backdrop, so I’m not exactly sure Jude. I bumped into James Atkins, and he seemed to think Arthur was in the Middle East, but I’m not sure how he would know that,’ said Alice. She paused to sample a scone. ‘Maybe captain’s letters don’t get censored as much.’

  ‘I forgot Arthur Atkins had joined up,’ said Judith, ‘terrible business with his wife: he was a fine local member.’

  ‘He was… and a great friend to this family.’ replied Alice. ‘But I guess the embarrassment of his wife’s infidelity was too much, especially being a public figure. Whatever the reasons, his contribution to the community and representation in parliament will be sorely missed in this area... I can’t, unfortunately, say the same for his wife.’

  ‘Living in Sydney with an aunt, I heard,’ said Judith, ‘but enough of that. You haven’t mentioned Emily in over two weeks.’

  ‘I haven’t heard from her in over three weeks, the little devil,’ replied Alice. ‘I wrote to her after her last letter and again yesterday. I suppose she is busy with her studies… well, I hope it is her studies she is busy with.’

  Both women looked at each other and laughed. They always enjoyed each other’s company and they could both imagine—without saying—what Emily might be getting up to.

  ‘Judith, you make the most delicious scones!’ exclaimed Alice, as she eyed the plate in the centre of the kitchen table. ‘I shouldn’t, but I will have just one more.’

  ‘I’m glad you like them Alice,’ replied Judith, ‘but they are not as good as yours, the blue ribbons from the show prove it.’

  ‘I pay the judges,’ giggled Alice, ‘yours are the best.’

  THIRTY ONE

  The door of the rail car compartment grated as it opened; it caused the elderly man seated opposite Emily to stir slightly, but not wake. A neatly dressed gentleman, he had fallen asleep while the train sat motionless at the Central Station platform. The young doctor who entered paused to tilt his hat towards the two occupants before he lifted his suitcase into the racks above the dark green upholstered seats. The soles of his fine leather shoes—wet from the rain outside—squeaked as he pivoted on the linoleum floor.

  ‘Excuse me, Miss, is this seat taken?’ asked the tall, slender man. He removed his hat from his head and held it over his chest, lightly clasped by fingers that would suit a pianist. His smile was enhanced by soft blue eyes that radiated humility with enough self-confidence to make the man sure of himself, without being arrogant.

  ‘No, sir,’ replied Emily, as she picked up the hard-covered book she had put down on the seat next to her.

  ‘No need Miss, there is quite enough room for your book; study or pleasure?’ asked the man, as he glanced at the title.

  ‘A bit of both,’ replied Emily with a blush, ‘a little more study to be done though.’

  ‘Australia and Federation,’ he said out loud
, while he took a seat at a respectable distance, but close enough to engage in conversation.

  ‘My first year at Sydney University,’ said Emily with a smile.

  ‘Really?’ replied the man. He sat straighter. His enthusiastic response drew a confused and incoherent babble from the elderly man who slept. Emily hid a devilish grin with her hand; the sparkle in her eye revealed a mischievous thought she had attempted to conceal.

  Emily’s new travelling companion was entranced at once. The corner of his mouth turned upwards, and he stopped breathing for a moment. His eyes had witnessed something beyond the visual sense, something he hadn’t felt before.

  ‘Emily Miller,’ she said holding out her hand, breaking the silence.

  ‘I’m sorry, how rude of me. Robert Anderson, pleasure to meet you, Miss Miller,’ said Dr Anderson, his composure regained. Modesty prevented him from giving his proper title. ‘You mentioned your studies. I was fortunate enough to obtain a degree while I resided at St John’s.’

  ‘My type are not allowed within those walls, Mr Anderson,’ remarked Emily in protest. Her dark brown eyes that had previously sparkled, transformed to a smouldering cinnamon shade, sedate but ready to ignite, given the right fuel.

  ‘Wouldn’t a lady prefer the Women’s College? replied Robert. He immediately wished he hadn’t, and then desperately tried to make amends, ‘I mean… ’

  ‘I would prefer—a choice, like most other women. But I suppose, Mr Anderson, we should be grateful that we are allowed the privilege to develop our obviously under-developed brains… and therefore, display the courtesy that men require for their world to function.’ Emily opened her book and began to read, or at least, pretended to.

  ‘I apologise if I offended you, Miss Miller, it wasn’t my intention.’

  Emily had not intended to spend her train journey home to Gilmurra crusading for women’s rights, nor did she want to sit in uncomfortable silence. She closed her book and faced Mr Anderson. ‘Do you know something, Mr Anderson?’

  Robert shrugged in a way that said he was unwilling to answer, but ready to listen.

  ‘I have found,’ continued Emily, ‘that men in general, never “mean to offend”, but have the almost instinctive ability to do so when it comes to offering their advice on how women would, or perhaps—should feel.’

  ‘You are absolutely right. I have worked alongside many gifted and talented women in my field. I have seen them come up against barriers that simply,’ said Robert, interlocking his hands and then spreading them, maybe to emphasise his point or maybe in a reaction to his uneasiness, ‘are not placed in front of their male counterparts. I hope, Miss Miller, that will change with time.’

  Emily paused to look closely at the man now she had vented her frustrations. He hadn’t surprised her with his response to her previous statement. It was in line with the impression she received when he first nodded hello—the eyes had said it. His comment about her college— to which she had bristled too quickly—was merely thoughtless, idle chat. He had not reverted to labels and assigned her a name, or declared her crazy, as some men did when confronted on campus with her zeal and determination. He had listened, and then spoken from his own experience, and acknowledged the faults that society as a whole preferred not to confront. There was something about him, something that she liked very much.

  ‘Not too much time, I hope,’ said Emily.

  Robert nodded with a smile that signalled the end of the discussion. He eased back in his seat and unfolded a newspaper and began to read. It left Emily slightly lost and completely disarmed. After her rebuke of Mr Anderson, she was—in an instant—left stranded, as if she should make some further comment to prolong the conversation. Her position of ascendency had been eroded by Mr Anderson’s simple action. An intentional ploy? She could not tell, but she felt a sudden pang of annoyance that was complicated by an undoubted attraction.

  Engrossed in his paper, Robert turned the page of the broadsheet. He had not even glanced at the young lady who sat next to him since their discussion. Driven by curiosity, Emily’s eyes darted in the direction of the paper. Her attention was caught by the front-page headline: Italians Invade Egypt. Her thoughts immediately shifted to her Uncle Norman; would he be preparing to fight the Italians? Emily was abruptly overtaken with a desire to be with her family. She wished she hadn’t waited so long to reply to her Aunt Alice’s letters.

  ***

  Alice waited on the platform of the train station, dressed in her Sunday best on a warm Saturday afternoon in the middle of a Gilmurra spring. She had brought Judith and young David along for the drive to meet Emily. Judith had been pleasantly surprised at how much she had missed her sister-in-law’s energy since her last visit; it was a healthy tonic from the rigidity of their household.

  Although Judith tried not to upset Reginald, the task was becoming ever more difficult. Judith felt that her husband had grown more detached as time went on. She would ask him—bravely in light of his quick temper—if he was all right, but he would shoot her down condescendingly. He would tell her that she was stupid and she wouldn’t understand the pressures of running a farm—let alone three. Judith dropped the subject.

  Judith would acknowledge to anyone that she was a woman of limited education. Her father thought it was more important to work for pay than to attend school; but as humble as she was, she didn’t consider herself stupid. It was her suspicion that Reginald was not totally at ease with being at home while Norm was away. It was a very strange thing for a man’s wife to think, and she had questioned her own reasoning. But if her theory was correct, and Reg’s lack of contentment was over him not enlisting, then the irony to Judith was that she believed her husband would not join up if given the choice. Judith felt that Reg just wanted the townsfolk to understand he couldn’t; he had been prevented by the burden of responsibility—that would be enough to satisfy him.

  ‘David, here comes your Aunt M,’ said Alice excitedly as the train from Sydney rolled at walking pace towards the platform. David showed more interest in the pendant that dangled from his mother’s neck than the train that approached.

  ‘Look Davey,’ said Judith while she tried to break her son’s grip, ‘the big train is here.’

  Two men in uniform passed in front of Alice and Judith, and blocked their view for a moment. Each woman had different thoughts enter their mind with the blur of khaki that passed between them and the first carriages of the train. The buoyant, proud men exchanged words as casually as if they might drop towels at their feet at any minute and dive into the Tilcan River. Their strong young faces, shaded by slouch hats, filled Alice with trepidation over Norman’s whereabouts, and Judith with an unavoidable pity for her Reginald.

  ‘Oh, sorry, Dr Bainbridge’ said Alice as she bumped into the local GP in an effort to catch sight of Emily.

  Dr Bainbridge smiled and tilted his hat at Alice. The elderly man raised his arm slowly in the air and attempted to catch a passenger’s attention.

  ‘There she is Jude, I can see her,’ said Alice, as she waved frantically. ‘She can see us.’ Oh my, she looks so beautiful. Alice raised her hand to her mouth. Alice felt as if she was being sucked backwards in time. The excitement of the crowded platform went eerily silent, as she suddenly found herself on the kitchen floor of number 96 Beattie Street. She gazed in wonder at a beautiful lady with a smile that beamed like ones she had only seen in films. The graceful figure with dark wavy hair and eyes that penetrated deep into your soul bent towards her to say her name and wrap her in a lifelong spell.

  ‘Aunt Ally!’

  The sound of the train whistle snapped Alice back into reality, and a cacophony of sound. The colours of the rainbow flowed by as people exited and boarded the train.

  ‘Aunty Alice, are you alright?’ asked a concerned Emily, while Judith looked on. She waited for Alice to respond before she greeted Judith.

  ‘Certainly, Ruth,’ replied Alice quietly, ‘you look lovely. How was the trip?’

&n
bsp; ‘You called me Ruth,’ said Emily with half a smile.

  Tempted to make an excuse, she decided against it. ‘For a moment, I thought you were, my dear M. I am so glad to have you home,’ she continued, and wrapped her arms around the young lady. Emily sank into the arms of the only mother she had known.

  ‘Welcome home, Emily,’ said Judith, as she moved forward to kiss her cheek. David pushed his head closer into his mother’s chest as the two women exchanged greetings.

  ‘Hello, Jude, and how are you little David, who’s not so little anymore?’

  ‘Pleasure to see you again, Doctor Bainbridge,’ said a voice from behind and to the side of Emily; its familiarity made her turn.

  ‘Welcome to Gilmurra, Dr Anderson,’ replied Doctor Bainbridge, ‘a pleasant trip, I hope.’

  ‘That must be the new doctor,’ whispered Judith. She nudged Alice with her elbow, while Emily stared at her former travelling companion.

  ‘Very enjoyable, thank you, Doctor.’

  ‘You never mentioned you were a Doctor,’ blurted Emily.

  The directness of Emily’s accusation made Doctor Bainbridge recoil slightly. His conservative and elderly mind wondered—dreaded—what the young Miller girl could possibly mean.

  ‘Emily!’ said Alice, chastising her niece. She also wondered what she could possibly mean.

  ‘Ah, Miss Miller, ladies,’ said Robert Anderson, as he turned to face Emily. He gave a warm smile and tipped his hat.

  ‘Mrs Clark, Mrs Miller,’ said Doctor Bainbridge, recovered from his initial shock. ‘May I present Dr Robert Anderson; our new general practitioner.’

  ‘Lovely to meet you, Doctor Anderson,’ said Alice. Both women nodded with a smile, and then turned their attention to Emily.

  ‘No, I don’t believe I did, Miss Miller,’ replied Doctor Anderson. He paused to smirk at his sparring partner, and continued. ‘My apologies… Miss Miller and I met on the train, Dr Bainbridge.’ The elderly Doctor smiled towards Emily politely, but mostly in relief. Any anxiety Alice felt had not quite been relieved as yet. Her glances back and forth between the young doctor and her niece quickened. ‘Would you have gone a little easier on me during our discussion Miss Miller… had you known my profession?’