Beneath the Willow

by Michael J Murphy

  ‘I don’t think Reg would like that, dear, the house is full now.’

  ‘I was going to persuade him to build you a cottage. But forget I mentioned it, or maybe think about it?’ said Emily with a playful smile.

  ‘You are incorrigible,’ joked Alice, ‘you need to get back to your husband. I have kept you too long. Give me a hug before you fly off in your new car.’

  Emily walked over to Alice and gave her a warm hug. ‘I will say a prayer for your brother Frank tonight.’

  ‘Thank you, dear, and thank you for listening.’

  ‘Thank you, Aunty, I cherish our talks,’ replied Emily as she kissed Alice on the cheek.

  Emily turned and picked up her handbag, which she had left beside her chair. She had a strong urge to say something she had wanted to speak of for a long time.

  ‘Alice,’ said Emily. She looked through the kitchen window, before she gathered the strength to turn and look directly at her Aunt.

  ‘Yes M.’

  ‘You know that when I call you Aunty, it is something that I have just gotten used to, a habit. And while I love—in fact crave—hearing stories of my mother, it is you that I consider to be my mum, and always have.’

  Alice stared at Emily with a humble expression that displayed happiness that was beyond wilful exuberance. The glint in her eye and the upturned corner of her mouth revealed a joy that comes with being called by the name that Emily had said with such affection.

  ‘I have always loved you, and considered you to be my daughter,’ whispered Alice softly, as tears streamed down her face, ‘but to hear you say those words, Emily, fills my heart with happiness. I am so very proud of you, so very proud.’

  Emily rushed across the kitchen floor and hugged Alice with love and happiness. ‘I love you, Mum,’ she said.

  THIRTY FOUR

  ‘Can I have a quick word?’ yelled Emily. She stepped backwards a few paces to avoid a bale of hay that Reginald had thrown from the top of the stack. The sweet smell of lucerne filled Emily’s senses and invoked childhood memories.

  Reg stood with hands on hips to exaggerate his annoyance. ‘You can see I’m busy, Emily, can’t it wait?’

  ‘I leave for the coast tomorrow, so no, it can’t,’ shouted Emily. Her annoyance was not exaggerated. ‘It won’t take long,’ she continued as she stepped out of the way of Paul McMillan, who collected the bales and placed them on the tray of the Ford. What were once the McMIllan brothers at work on the properties was now just the one, the older brother Richard was killed fighting the Japanese at Milne Bay.

  ‘Hold on then. Bloody hell, you can be a pain,’ moaned Reg as he made his descent on the bales. The haphazard way in which they were removed from the stack formed a sort of staircase which made Reg’s task easier. ‘Paul, take a smoko, I won’t be long.’

  ‘Okay, boss,’ said Paul, before he moved politely away.

  ‘Did he just call you boss?’ asked Emily, mildly amused.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Reg indignantly, ‘why wouldn’t he? What is it you need to talk so urgently about? God knows I can’t afford to stop work. That wedding cost me a fortune.’

  Emily rolled her eyes instead of answering; she waited a moment to allow Reg to feel foolish before she broached what she came to talk about. ‘I have been thinking it would be a good idea for Alice to come and live at Denman Hill.’

  ‘Have you,’ scoffed Reg. ‘why would she want to do that? She has her own place.’

  ‘It is terribly lonely for her over there; it’s not good for her.’

  ‘She can visit whenever she wants. Why must you meddle, Emily?’ said Reg quickly. He started to sound panicked. ‘Everyone is happy where they are.’

  ‘She’s not happy, Reg, I can tell.’

  ‘Well move her in with you and Robert, if you’re so concerned.’

  ‘I wouldn’t hesitate,’ said Emily sharply, before she quietened her voice for the labourer’s sake, ‘but she loves being around your children, and she would be a help for Jude.’

  ‘We haven’t got the room.’

  ‘Well make it then… build a cottage for her; it is the least you could do!’ Barked Mrs Anderson, her blood now up.

  ‘Least I could do… what in Christ’s name is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘What is it supposed to mean?’ shouted Emily, as she took a step forward, no longer worried about Paul’s proximity. Reg involuntarily took half a step back as he saw his sister’s eyes. He instantly hated himself for it. ‘It means that you should show a little more gratitude, a little more compassion and some semblance of love for the women who raised you. Do I actually have to spell it out for you, Reg?’

  ‘Now listen here, Emily, I… ’

  ‘Oh, shut up! Do the right thing and build the damn cottage. You can even have the honour of acting chivalrously and telling her yourself.’

  Reg’s face was red with anger and embarrassment, but he chose not to speak. He didn’t have the courage to get into a protracted argument with his sister or anyone else with substance. He found it easier to domineer over the more timid people within his circle.

  ‘I am going home to pack,’ said Emily firmly, fed up with her brother’s attitude, ‘I’ll leave it with you.’

  ***

  The bottle cap bounced off the table and fell to the timber floorboards on the Denman Hill verandah. Reg poured the pilsener into his froth-marked glass, and gazed groggily over his front paddocks. Seated in a comfortable cane chair, he used his right forearm to push the four empty bottles huddled on the table next to him. It made room for the freshly opened one, already half empty.

  Reg brooded while he sat; his pride was wounded from the exchange with his sister. ‘Smart bitch,’ he mumbled under his breath as he took a long mouthful of beer from his glass. The more intoxicated he became, the more confident he was in what he should have said. Reg had relived the argument many times in his mind, until, in a bout of fantasy, Emily had eventually apologised for her disrespectful attitude.

  The screen door at the front of the house creaked. Judith stepped onto the verandah slowly. .

  ‘Dinner will be about ten minutes, Reg,’ said Judith quietly, while she glanced at the five bottles on the table.

  ‘Is it on the table?’ barked Reg.

  ‘No, dear, about ten minutes.’

  ‘Well call me in ten minutes,’ replied Reg dismissively. Judith noted the unusual contortions her husband’s facial features took on when drunk. One of his eyes seemed larger than the other, and his cheeks looked like they had lost all elasticity. She thought it made him look sad—pathetic.

  ‘Yes, Reg,’ said Judith before she withdrew down the hall.

  ‘David,’ she said, as she entered the kitchen.

  ‘Yes, Mum.’

  ‘I am so sorry to do this to you,’ said the concerned mother. Judith did her best to appear calm, although her stomach churned with anxiousness. ‘But I promised Aunt Alice that you would do a couple of chores for her this afternoon, and I totally forgot. I am so silly.’

  ‘But we are about to eat, Mum.’

  ‘I know, darling… and that is why I feel so silly, because Aunt Alice wanted you to eat with her. Apple pie, I think,’ added Judith desperately.’

  ‘I love apple pie,’ said David excitedly.

  ‘Yes, I know, said Judith quickly. She removed the boy’s place settings as she spoke. ‘Take William with you, Alice would love to see him; quick-sticks.’

  ‘Ride or walk?’

  ‘Ride I think, darling, it will be quicker… but no galloping with William, and sit him in front of you—not behind.’

  Judith ushered the boys out the kitchen door and then made her way to the telephone in the hallway. She picked up the receiver and asked the operator for Avondale. After a period of time, Judith heard Alice’s voice.

  ‘Alice, its Judith.’

  ‘Hello, Jude.’

  Judith turned to face the front door, ready to sight Reginald should he suddenly decide to enter
the house. ‘Alice,’ said Judith, in a calm voice. ‘I have sent the boys over to your house for dinner. Reg… isn’t feeling well,’ offered Judith. She was mindful of switchboard operators who listened in on private calls and then gossiped.

  ‘That’s no good, Jude, what’s wrong with him… oh,’ exclaimed Alice, as she caught on. ‘Yes of course, of course; are you all right, my dear?’ asked Alice uneasily.

  ‘Perfectly; I told David to do some chores for you.’

  ‘I can always find some of those,’ replied Alice. She did her best to be cheerful, but there was angst in her voice. ‘Now you are certain you don’t need any help?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ replied Judith. She took a sharp breath as she heard the screen door open. ‘Thank you, Alice, the boys love your cooking,’ said Judith loudly, for Reg’s sake. ‘I must go now, thanks again.’

  ‘Who was that?’ said Reg, as he trudged down the hall, his supply of pilsener exhausted. ‘Thought you said dinner was ten minutes away, I’m starved.’

  Judith didn’t reply to Reg’s question or his statement. She knew there to be no correct one. Instead she turned and walked peacefully towards the kitchen to serve the two meals.

  ‘Where are David and William,’ slurred Reg, ‘and the baby?’

  ‘Elizabeth is asleep, Reg,’ said Alice, while she placed carrots, peas, and potatoes on the plate alongside slices of corned beef, ‘and the boys are at Alice’s. David is doing a couple of jobs.’

  ‘Wish he would do a few around here,’ mumbled Reg before he belched.

  ‘Alice needs the help, dear,’ replied Judith as she placed Reg’s meal in front of him, ‘and the boys enjoy the time with her.’

  ‘Alice, bloody Alice,’ mumbled Reg, as though he was under attack.

  ‘Excuse me, dear?’

  ‘Nothin,’ grunted Reg. He sliced a portion of corned beef, pushed some peas onto his fork and then devoured it. He cut some more meat as he chewed and then looked up at Judith as she sat at the opposite end of the table. ‘That sister of mine wants me… no, demanded, that I build Alice a cottage at the back of this house, so she can move from Avondale.’

  Judith cut small morsels of food and then placed the tip of the fork in her mouth.

  ‘It wasn’t enough that I spent a fortune on her wedding, now this,’ complained Reg. He stabbed at the vegetables on his plate while he held his knife pointed to the ceiling. ‘Did you actually cook these potatoes?’ he hissed. Uncouthly he removed a piece from his mouth with his fingers, stared at it and then dropped it on his plate. Reg wiped what remained on his hand against his trousers. ‘How hard is it to get a good meal after a hard day’s work?’

  Judith looked at her plate and absorbed the insult. She gave thanks that she had sent her boys to the sanctuary of Alice’s house. Judith had been excited at first when Reg had announced Emily’s plan, but had suddenly experienced misgivings. The scheme she had quickly devised and executed that day would not be possible if Alice came to live with them.

  Only days before, David had been hit repeatedly across the back of his legs with his father’s belt for forgetting to wash his hands before dinner; Judith had felt ashamed of herself as she watched her eldest son try to hold back tears while he sat—hands cleaned—chewing slowly on his food. She had done nothing to intervene, and reasoned or made the excuse that intervention may have prolonged the ordeal.

  ‘Why should I build Alice a cottage?’

  Trapped, Judith knew she had stayed silent for as long as Reg would tolerate. Although he would never concede to her opinion, he needed affirmation from her. It reinforced his notion that he was the respected and needed man of the house; correct in his thoughts, able to make decisions that his wife could not make. Judith’s very real dilemma lay in what she chose to say.

  ‘It would probably be lonely over there, dear.’

  Reg looked up from his meal. The very thin veil which held all his insecurities was drawn back by Judith’s comment, to reveal in full his violent temper. ‘So, you’re behind this!’ roared Reg. ‘You?’ he said more quietly. ‘You deceitful woman, going behind my back…,’

  ‘Reg, what are you talking about,’ replied Judith, her voice panicky, ‘behind what?’

  ‘In cahoots with my smart-arse sister,’ snarled Reg. He stood and walked towards his wife. Judith was genuinely scared. ‘Think you can get your stupid fucking husband to do what you want!’ he yelled as he stood over Judith. Reg placed one hand on the table and one on the back of her chair, while the frightened woman, cowered under the coward.

  ‘No, Reg, I don’t know what you are talking about, please,’ she cried. Judith’s face was directed to the ground. Her eyes angled up defensively, anticipating what she once thought unthinkable.

  ‘Oh, yes you do,’ growled Reg. He lifted his hand up high. The sight of the frightened woman—subject to his whim— brought on an erection, and a strange smirk appeared on his face. A flashback of himself as a child, in the same position his wife now took, instantly deflated his bizarre arousal. It made his frame limp, and the squeal Judith made in terror, as she waited to be struck, brought bile to the back of his throat.

  In a spasm of shame-riddled anger, Reg, with his whole palm, flicked her plate off the table. Judith screamed as she caught the movement of his hand from the corner of her eye; the desperate cry muffled the sound of shattered china against the kitchen wall.

  Reginald Miller grimaced while he paced backwards—his drunkenness still evident in his movement. He looked around the kitchen like he had scanned the scene for witnesses, while the temperature of his blood dropped steadily. He wiped his hands down the length of his shirt, unconsciously desiring to scrape the film of self loathing from his skin. Reg’s head ached with the awareness of what he had been prepared to do.

  ‘Jude,’ he said, pitifully.

  Judith’s sudden movement filled the kitchen with a sound that grated and then ended with a screech, as the chair legs scraped along the timber floor boards. The noise made Reg breath in, nervously, as if he were the victim.

  ‘It was just the drink… I worked all day… and Emily. I’d never… you know that.’ Reg stared at his wife as she backed towards the sink. Not once did she make eye-contact with him. ‘Are you going to say something?’ asked Reg. He sounded deflated but surprised that she hadn’t cheerfully accepted his mumbled justifications.

  ‘I am fine, thank you, Reg,’ replied Judith, while she stood straight-backed with her hands clasped in front. Her gaze was angled to the floor at Reg’s feet. ‘I would like to clean the floor, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Sure, luv,’ said Reg, with a note of hope and some certainty in his voice. ‘You’re a good wife,’ he continued to Judith’s unresponsive, crouched body. He turned suddenly and walked down the hallway and out the front door. When Judith heard the front screen door bang shut, she dropped the pieces of broken plate and collapsed. She moaned a sorrowful cry. She had been relieved from danger, but was resigned to captivity.

  Part Four

  THIRTY FIVE

  Denman Hill, July 1953

  ‘Now, Mrs Miller,’ said Sergeant Smyth sternly. The sergeant considered Judith’s state and eased his tone. ‘Mrs Miller, could you please, for the sake of clarity, go over what you have just said to Constable Bolton?’

  ‘I am not sure she has to say anything, Sergeant,’ interjected Alice, who stood behind the seated mother. She had tried to support Judith, but sounded panicked.

  ‘That is true, Mrs Clark,’ replied the Sergeant, ‘but then I would have to take Mrs Miller into the station, and that is not something I want to do.’

  Judith opened a conciliatory hand towards Alice while she nodded towards the sergeant to confirm she was happy to speak. ‘I will tell you everything that has happened tonight,’ said Judith, ‘but I should be… we all should be looking for my son. He is hurt.’ Judith fell silent as images of her husband beating her son flashed before her eyes. It brought a terrible feeling of sadness and then anger to
every part of her body.

  ‘I know it must be hard, Mrs Miller,’ replied Sergeant Smyth, ‘I have several men on the job right at this moment, all of them experienced. Mr Adler and his sons are also out with them; we will find your boy.’ The sergeant stopped for a moment. He was also a father, and knew how futile his words would sound to a worried mother whose only concern was for her child.

  Judith clasped Alice’s hand for comfort and then released it to give her full attention to Sergeant Smyth. ‘My husband came home drunk from the hotel,’ said Judith calmly, her hands were clasped in her lap as she sat straight-backed in an upholstered chair. ‘He had been there all day.’

  ‘Approximately at what time did he return home?’ asked Sergeant Smyth.

  ‘It was dark… about seven o’clock.’

  ‘The hotels close at six; any idea where your husband may have been in the time between the pub closing and arriving home? It’s only a ten-minute trip.’

  Judith stared blankly at the sergeant and the look ridiculed him. Every man and woman in the district knew that the publicans flaunted with the closing hours and provided grog on the sly. It was worth the risk for the few extra quid they reasoned.

  ‘Yes—well, never mind that, seven o’clock you say,’ stated Smyth, he realised the stupidity of the question. ‘What happened after he arrived home?’

  ‘I heard a loud bang,’ replied Judith. ‘He had crashed the vehicle into the shed. I was in the front room reading and I got up and moved into the kitchen. My children were with Alice in the cottage. I heard a second loud noise, minutes later; Reg had fallen over a wheelbarrow in the darkness—that’s when he became aggressive.’

  ‘I had an exchange with him prior to that, Sergeant,’ added Alice.