by Juliet Bell
Then I found the picture of Helen.
I was sorting through some paperwork in the staffroom, and I found a box of annual class photos that had never been collected. I’d never had a class photo. Students had to pay for their pictures and Mrs Reed would never have given me money to waste on such frivolity. The photos in the box had accumulated over the years and I held my breath as I sorted through them, not daring to hope…then I saw Helen’s face looking back at me.
It is surprising how quickly we forget even the ones we love the most. I pulled the photograph from the box and stared at her beautiful face. It was as I remembered her, but it wasn’t. I had forgotten the confidence in her eyes and the certainty with which she had faced a world that offered so little to her. Tears pricked the back of my eyes and I felt ashamed. I had let her down. I had let guilt and fear stop me from being with her. And now I was doing the same again.
I carefully put all the other photos back into the box, and slipped the photo of my class – the photo of Helen – between the pages of one of my books. That night, asleep in my tiny room, I didn’t just dream. I decided.
The next day, I found a copy of the Sydney Morning Herald. I turned to the employment section. I wasn’t yet a qualified teacher and I didn’t want to return to Sydney, so finding a new job would be difficult. But I would find one because I had to. I needed to get away from Our Lady and the memories that haunted me. I needed to experience the outside world that was still very much a mystery to me. I needed to move on and find a normal life.
Chapter 34
Betty
Edward greeted all three of the guests like long-lost friends. The man Betty hadn’t recognised was introduced as Max Hardy – an old school friend of Edward’s, who she had apparently met before at the Sydney Show. She smiled politely, but didn’t remember. Max knew Celine already, and Richard could toady his way in anywhere. They all made themselves totally at home. Being Mrs Rochester was supposed to stop this. It was supposed to mean that Betty was never the outsider again.
The friends sat up late at night, drinking and talking about places and people Betty didn’t know. Betty always sat away from the others. She didn’t want to be too close to Celine. Next to that alabaster perfection, her own skin looked as dark as that of the Aborigines, who were a major topic of conversation.
‘Bloody Gough Whitlam and his commie government,’ Edward would say. ‘Giving our land away, back to those people. They did nothing with it, until we came. Not a building, not a fence. They didn’t graze a single animal. Without us, this land would be nothing. Well, they’re not getting Thornfield.’
Betty was never game to ask him if that was what Jimmy had meant when he said the land wasn’t Edward’s. She didn’t care too much about their conversation. All she cared was that every night, Edward came to their bed and reached for her. As long as he needed her, she was safe.
Of course, there wasn’t much to do at Thornfield, and, within a couple of days, Edward was searching for ways to entertain his guests. Adele squealed in delight at Edward’s suggestion of driving out to the horse paddock to look at the new foals. Max also nodded his assent. Edward turned to Betty. ‘Will you come with us?’
Betty wanted to say yes. She wanted to be part of the group. But she was afraid to spend too long in the sun. Mr Mason had been strict about that. She was a white woman now. Betty shook her head.
‘What about you, Richard?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ll let you go. Give me a chance to catch up with my sister.’
Betty frowned at the word. She was used to the façade, but didn’t like the idea of being alone with the man who really wasn’t her brother.
‘Adele, dear, maybe you should stay behind.’ Celine absently patted her daughter on the head.
It had been like that since the plane had brought these new people among them. Both Adele’s parents doted on her in small doses, then put her aside to drink, or play cards, or go out for whatever fun they could find elsewhere. Betty pulled the little girl close to her.
‘I’m sure she’d like to spend more time with her beautiful mother.’
Celine preened a little. ‘Oh, all right, then.’
They set off, Max leading the way with Edward, Celine and Adele looking for all the world like a family.
‘You’ve got to do something about that.’ Richard appeared at her shoulder.
‘About what?’ She stepped away from him.
‘I talked to Father last night. He’s worried.’
‘What about?’
‘About her. Them.’ He waved in the general direction the group had taken. ‘Nobody ever said he had a kid. We only found out after the old man died.’
‘I know.’
‘So it makes it even more important that you get on with things.’
Betty was confused. ‘Get on with what?’
‘You know. Getting yourself knocked up. He needs an heir. A son. A legitimate son. Then he won’t be able to get rid of you, will he?’
Betty shook her head in disgust. ‘Get rid of me? I’m his wife.’
‘And that Celine woman’s the mother of his child. And she’s prettier than you. And cleverer than you.’ His face was a picture of contempt. ‘If you don’t give him a kid, he can chuck you out whenever he likes. At least if you’ve got a baby, he’ll have to give you something. Money. Somewhere to live. And we’ll have the son.’
This wasn’t right. This wasn’t her new life. She wasn’t just a body to be bought and sold anymore. She was Mrs Edward Rochester. That was supposed to be enough.
Richard sneered again. ‘And we know he can get a woman pregnant. So maybe you’re the problem?’
Betty felt something contract inside herself like she was going to throw up. She turned away from the house and started to walk. She needed to get away and be by herself. She walked quickly towards the river, not slowing until she was sure Richard hadn’t followed. How dare he talk to her like that? She wasn’t a waif who they’d taken pity on anymore. She had a position. She was Elizabeth Rochester. He couldn’t talk to her like she was silly little Betty dressed up in Eliza’s clothes.
She stopped when she heard the voices.
‘We are of this land. We know how to wait. We should go on strike like the Gurindji.’
‘How long do we wait? It took ’em ten years at Wave Hill.’
Betty moved closer. There was a group of Aboriginal workers standing together at the edge of their camp.
‘But they made a law. The land will come back to us. That Gough Whitlam, he said so. We just need to wait.’
The group gradually noticed her presence, glancing towards her and falling silent. Eventually Jimmy stepped out of the crowd, and, as he always did, touched his hat. ‘Mrs Rochester, were you looking for someone?’
Betty shook her head to clear the confusion that had settled on her. She didn’t know why she’d come down here.
Jimmy moved closer, staring into her face. ‘Are you all right?’
She didn’t reply. She didn’t know quite whether she was all right or not for a moment. She was angry with Richard. And she didn’t really know why she’d walked away from the house. Sometimes she just needed to get away from people with their expectations of how she had to be.
‘I’ll take her back up. Come on, Mrs Rochester.’
‘Betty.’ She muttered her name. She let him lead her back towards the homestead. It was easily twenty minutes’ walk. She’d come further than she’d thought.
‘Mrs Rochester.’
‘Yes?’
‘I don’t wanna be… Well, my wife, Peggy, she says…’
Peggy had looked after Adele before Betty arrived. She still sometimes brought her own fat little baby and sat in the kitchen, bouncing him on her knee while Grace made them both cups of tea.
‘What does she say?’
‘She says you’ve gone really brown since you got here, you know, in the sun.’
Betty didn’t reply. She thought she’d been careful
.
‘Peggy had a cousin. He was mixed. Real pale, he was. They had to cover him in mud when he was a kid to stop them police taking him, but, when he grew up, he could pass. You know. As white.’
Betty knew exactly what he meant.
‘Maybe you don’t wanna come out in the sun too long?’
She gathered herself. They were nearly at the house now. This was where she was in control. This was where she was Mrs Edward Rochester. ‘Thank you, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Right.’
‘I’m from England originally.’
He nodded. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it, Mrs Rochester.’
‘It’s Betty.’ She said it louder this time.
He smiled. ‘Betty, then,’ he said.
The smell of baking biscuits hit her as soon as she opened the kitchen door. She smiled. She loved the heat of the oven, and Richard would never find her if she waited there until Edward returned.
Everyone came back for lunch. Grace laid out a meal on the veranda. Betty sat opposite her husband, who was flanked by Celine and Max. Adele babbled enough to keep the conversation going, but her mother was past the point of hiding her boredom with the child.
‘I’m desperate to get back to Sydney,’ she declared, as she flicked open her second beer. ‘Seriously, Edward, I don’t know how you put up with this day in, day out.’
Edward shrugged.
‘And now Elizabeth is taking care of Adele, you don’t really need to be here all the time, do you?’
Max interrupted. ‘He’s still got a property to run.’
‘I thought he was paying you for that.’
Betty shook her head. ‘Sorry? Edward’s paying Max for what?’
Edward took a long swig of his beer. ‘As property manager. Jeffries was stuck in the past, y’know. I had to let him go.’
‘When?’
‘Last week.’
‘You didn’t say.’ She fought to keep the irritation out of her voice.
‘Ooooh!’ Celine slapped her hand down onto Edward’s thigh. ‘You’re in trouble now.’
Edward glared at Betty. She’d shown him up in front of his friends.
Richard jumped in. ‘Hardly your concern how Edward runs his business, is it?’
It was her opportunity to back down, to say she didn’t mind. She could say she was just surprised. Eliza Mason would have, but Elizabeth Rochester was someone with more about her than that. Elizabeth Rochester was supposed to be someone who mattered.
Edward shifted on his seat to let Celine lean in closer to his body. He was goading her. She could see it now. Well, she wouldn’t be goaded. Eliza would have turned a blind eye. Betty would have screamed and yelled. Elizabeth wouldn’t do either. She pushed her seat away from the table. ‘Excuse me.’
She didn’t have to sit and watch. She made her way into the house. She could hear the voices out on the veranda getting more raucous now. She could hear Grace clattering about in the kitchen as well. She headed upstairs. Instead of going into the big bedroom that she and Edward had now taken over as their own, she turned to the right. The house was arranged in a U-shape. The right-hand leg of the U had Grace’s rooms at the corner, but the other rooms were unused. There was even a door that separated that section from the rest of the house. Betty opened the door and went through. The air was still and quiet. She sat down on the floor, leaning against the door, which clicked closed under her weight. She was alone. No-one was watching, judging, or expecting anything of her. Here, for a moment, she could simply be. Betty exhaled.
Chapter 35
Jane
Dear Mrs Fairfax
I write in response to your advertisement in the Sydney Morning Herald regarding the position of live-in tutor.
I am currently working as a house mistress at Our Lady of the Rosary School in Dubbo as I complete my distance teacher training with the University of New England in Armidale. I have enclosed a resume and copies of my university records.
In your advertisement, you mentioned the isolation of the position. Let me assure you that such remoteness would not give me a moment’s concern. I have no immediate family and no ties to any one place.
My telephone details are enclosed, and I would very much appreciate a chance to discuss this further with you at your convenience.
Yours sincerely
Jane Eyre
I read the letter one more time. It was brief, but what more was there to say? I’d never applied for a job before and I had little hope of getting this one, but I had to start somewhere. It was the first job that had looked even vaguely possible for someone with my limited qualifications and experience in all the months that I’d been looking. My resolve to get away from Our Lady was fading fast. I needed a job, and I needed one soon.
I picked up the pen and signed my name, then folded the letter and my resume, and slid them into the envelope. I checked the newspaper ad one more time and then carefully wrote out the address.
Mrs G. Fairfax
Thornfield
Via Bourke
NSW 2840
Chapter 36
Betty
Jimmy carried the last of the bags from the ute and put them down on the kitchen table.
‘Thanks for this.’ Grace was supposed to do the fortnightly run into town for supplies, but had retreated to her bedroom with a migraine this morning. There was no way Betty could wait. It was Adele’s birthday and she’d promised her a cake. So a cake there would be, whether Grace was around to make it or not.
She waved Jimmy off from the back step, nodding a greeting to Max who was striding from the stables towards his own house, and then turned her attention to her task. She hadn’t baked a cake on her own since she’d been elevated to polite company from the Masons’ kitchen, but it was easy enough. She remembered Maddie’s voice telling her – four ounces of flour, four ounces of sugar, four ounces of butter, two eggs. Four, four, four, two. Butter and sugar first, then the eggs, and then the flour.
She mixed her ingredients quickly. When it was baked she would layer it with buttercream and strawberry jam, and serve it with peaches. They were canned peaches, but they’d have to do. It was the only fruit she could persuade Adele to eat.
She slid her cake pan into the oven and glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes before she needed to check on it. Probably thirty before it needed to come out. Adele was with Peggy, learning how to do laundry, which she seemed to think was fun. Betty had time for a rest.
She headed upstairs, but stopped at the doorway to the bedroom. It was ajar. She pushed it open. Edward was sitting on the end of the bed. ‘Where have you been?’
‘In the kitchen.’
‘With whom?’
Betty frowned. ‘On my own. I was making Adele a birthday cake.’
‘That’s Grace’s job.’
‘She’s not very well.’
Edward snorted. ‘Well, isn’t that convenient.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Max saw you.’
Betty was genuinely confused now. ‘Saw what?’
Edward stood up and stalked towards her, leaning past her to slam the door shut. ‘With that Abo you’re so keen on.’
‘Jimmy? He carried the shopping in for me.’ Her mind was reeling. ‘Because Grace is sick.’
‘Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.’ Edward took another step towards her, closing the non-existent space between them and forcing her back against the wall.
Betty’s whole body tensed. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I know you go down to that camp of theirs.’
This was insane. Betty screwed her eyes closed, trying to give her mind a moment to think. It didn’t help. Edward was king here. She was his queen only because she pleased him and now she didn’t know what he wanted her to say. ‘I don’t. I did once, maybe. But I was going for a walk. I wasn’t going to see anyone.’
When he spoke again his voice was quiet – the loud
anger of a moment before replaced with something colder and more definite. ‘I cannot have my wife associating with those sorts of people. Did I tell you what Max said about you?’
Betty shook her head.
‘He said that when he saw you waiting for the plane that first day – with Adele and Jimmy – he thought…’ He stepped back from her, just a fraction, and looked carefully at her face. ‘He thought you were one of them.’
Betty froze.
‘I should have married Celine. At least I’d have known what I was getting.’
She could make this all right. She still could. ‘I’m your wife.’
‘More fool me.’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t mean that. It’s been a difficult few months.’ She pressed her hand against his chest, determined now. ‘I can make you feel better.’
She wrapped a finger around his button. ‘I can, can’t I?’
The anger in his eyes turned to something else and she pressed on, flicking the button open, and then the next. Whatever fight was going on inside his head, she knew she’d won. His hand went to her thigh, pulling her dress up, and then she was against the wall again, lifting her legs around his waist and welcoming him into her.
Afterwards, they sank to the floor, breathless. Betty was calmed. She still had this. Whatever else he did, she had the marital bed, the marital bedroom. This was still where he returned to at the end of the day.
‘What’s that smell?’
The smell was burning. The cake. Betty scrambled to her feet, pulling her underwear up, and smoothing her skirt down. She ran down the stairs and to the kitchen. Max had already pulled her blackened cake from the oven and was tossing a wet cloth over the remains.
Edward followed behind her. The two men exchanged a look.
‘You know how dangerous a fire is out here? Even a small one can spread in seconds.’ Max didn’t try to hide his anger.
‘I’m sorry. I just lost track of time…’ She looked to her husband.
‘I’ll deal with this.’ He dismissed Max and closed the kitchen door. ‘He’s right. You could have burned the house down. That could have spread for miles.’