If she’d had any doubts about Dave, they’d melted away like spring snow when he kissed her. Everything about it felt right. The kiss was gentle but firm, respectful but passionate. She knew she was in control if she ever wanted to stop. But she never wanted to stop. The first time they had sex it was a surprise to both of them. A kiss deepened into more and they both became oblivious to anything other than each other. She was tall, strong and headstrong. He was tall, strong and willing. They were equals. Always. Neither of them tricking or conniving the other into anything they didn’t want.
The first time she missed her period it didn’t even register. She was too excited about her blossoming relationship, too nervous about her parents finding out, and too in love to think anything bad could happen. But when two months went by she knew she was pregnant. She and Dave were sitting in his ute at Long Beach, looking out over the water, when she told him. To her surprise and deep relief he was thrilled and immediately asked her to marry him. Annie didn’t hesitate in answering. She didn’t want any of those snobby Sandy Bay boys with their pedigrees and their expectations. She didn’t want to be a society lady and play mahjong and arrange charity balls. She wanted to marry Dave Pearson and have his baby.
That was eleven years and six children ago, and she’d never regretted it.
20
21 July 1969
Catherine
It seemed as if half of Cygnet was crammed into the school’s assembly hall. Catherine’s Kindergarten class sat cross-legged at the front, the older students on chairs behind them, arranged by class, with the parents jostling for space along the walls. Not many families in the area owned television sets and only those children had been allowed to stay home. The Pearson clan would be in their lounge room right now, with a roaring fire and warm cups of Milo. Catherine shifted her weight. There was nowhere for her to sit and she’d already had a tiring day. The children were overexcited and her efforts to get them to paint astronauts had floundered. All they wanted was to see a man on the moon.
At least it was warm in here. The extra bodies added to the meagre heat of the wall radiators. Winter in the valley meant bitter, dark mornings, the sun barely peeking over the hills until noon and then rapidly disappearing without providing a hint of warmth. As children, bundled up in jackets, scarves and mittens, she and Peter had loved to crack the ice on the puddles. Sometimes Peter found ice so thick he’d kick it down the road, laughing with delight as it skidded along. Even on the coldest of days he always found joy – in the frost creating a white wonderland on the paddocks, the steam blowing from his mouth like dragon fire, and the freshly toasted crumpets and honey their mother would have waiting when they returned home.
A commotion by the door attracted Catherine’s attention. A couple of late arrivals. Mark squeezed into the room with Charlie close beside him. She was surprised they weren’t watching the moon landing with Dave and Annie. Catherine raised an eyebrow at Mark. He shrugged and mouthed ‘sorry’. Charlie was quickly lost in a forest of adults’ legs and the chairs of the senior students. He’d never see anything back there. ‘Charlie can come and sit up the front near me,’ she called over the hubbub.
As the small boy pushed his way to the front, an uncomfortable silence crept through the room. The hush was only disturbed by the whispers of some mothers and a few nervous coughs from their husbands. A prickle of unease spread across Catherine’s skin. Tim’s warnings had been easy to discount as mere jealousy but when Annie had told her, more than once, that there’d been gossip about her and Mark perhaps she shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss it as nonsense. She and Mark were just friends, nothing more, and only because of Charlie. Now she wondered if she should have been more concerned.
Charlie happily squeezed in with the Kindergarten class, saying hello to some of the children he knew from the packing shed. He’d been longing to start Kindy this year but his fifth birthday wasn’t until next month. Perhaps, after the moon walk was over and the children were given an early mark, she and Charlie could find some puddles and crack the ice on them together.
The headmaster stood beside the television, which sat on a high trolley to afford everyone the best view. ‘It’s wonderful to see so many of you here.’ His eyes swept the crush of adults at the back of the room. ‘In years to come, I think we’ll all remember exactly where we were on this day. And we’ll also remember, with pride, the part that Australia played in this historical broadcast, thanks to NASA’s space tracking satellite near Canberra and the mighty Parkes radio telescope.’ With a flourish he turned on the television. The air was electric with anticipation as they waited for the set to warm up and the black screen to become a vision of a new future, where all things were possible.
Catherine had wondered about the wisdom of showing the moon landing live to young children. What if something terrible happened? No one could be certain the landing module would make it safely. It could crash. There might be a fault like the one in the launch pad test two years ago where three astronauts had died in a flash fire. What if the surface of the moon was covered in a mile-deep drift of dust and the module was swallowed up whole? There were no guarantees in this world and even less on the moon. It wasn’t until she heard the words ‘The Eagle has landed’ that her shoulders relaxed.
The younger children wriggled restlessly. There wasn’t much to see as yet and she could sense their disappointment after the enormous build-up. The first images from the moon were just slabs of fuzzy black and white, but when the camera angle changed they could see a foot coming down the ladder. A collective gasp reverberated through the room. The foot hovered tentatively as Neil Armstrong talked about the distance from the ladder to the moon’s surface. It didn’t matter that his words were mundane, he was talking to them from the moon. The camera angle changed again and, though very shadowy, they could see the astronaut still hanging on to the ladder. Finally he took the plunge and stepped onto the moon.
‘That’s one small step for man—’ Static broke up the sound. His words were indecipherable.
‘What did he say?’ one of the fathers asked.
‘That’s one small step for man,’ the headmaster replied.
‘Yeah, I got that, but what about the rest?’
‘I think it was something about one giant leap,’ one of the mothers said.
‘Right.’ The father frowned, still baffled.
The television announcer must have realised that all of Australia was wondering the same thing. ‘And those were the first words spoken when man walked on the moon, “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind”,’ he reiterated.
‘Oh.’ A murmur rumbled through the room as heads nodded in understanding.
Neil Armstrong continued talking about the surface of the moon and the nature of the dust, giving a commentary on everything he could see. Catherine was riveted, despite the indistinct images and the static. How many times had she gazed at the bright light of the full moon, mysterious and glorious? And now a man walked on the surface, so many thousands of miles away.
The children laughed as Armstrong zipped in and out of view collecting samples, his bulky space suit causing no hindrance in the low gravity. When Buzz Aldrin finally descended the ladder and bounced around like a kangaroo, the children laughed even louder. As the broadcast went on though, Catherine’s class began to fidget. She knew if she didn’t take them out of the assembly hall soon, they’d disrupt the rest of the broadcast for everybody else. She bent down and, with her fingers to her lips to indicate quiet, beckoned them to follow her. It was too cold to take them out to the playground, but Catherine hoped they might be ready for a nap.
Charlie tagged along. His eyes widened as he walked into the classroom, taking in the potato-cut paintings pinned on the back wall, a frieze of the alphabet, the piano in the corner, low tables and chairs, and the pile of mats for nap time. ‘This is your classroom?’ he asked.
Catherine nodded as she began to put out the mats.
‘This is where I’ll be when I turn five,’ he announced proudly.
‘Not until next year, mate.’ Mark stood by the door watching with a smile. He must have followed them out of the assembly hall. ‘We’ve talked about this.’
‘Now, children,’ Catherine addressed her class. ‘It’s been a big day. Tomorrow we’ll talk about everything we saw on the television. But right now, even spacemen need to have a nap, so let’s settle down for a little while.’
To her surprise the children took off their shoes and lay down without any complaint. There was some whispering and giggling, but that was normal.
Charlie tugged on her sleeve. ‘I think I need a spaceman nap too.’
Catherine laughed gently. ‘Do you now?’ What harm could it do? Today was a special day. If things weren’t done exactly by the book she didn’t think anyone would mind. She looked at Mark. He shrugged with an ‘it’s okay with me if it’s okay with you’ expression.
‘All right.’ Catherine laid out another mat. ‘Take off your shoes, lie down and close your eyes. Dream about the moon and the men on it.’
‘What about the Man in the Moon?’
‘Maybe they’ll get to meet him.’ She didn’t mind her young charges believing in the myths and fantasies. Cold reality would come soon enough. Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy were all welcome in her classroom, along with the Man in the Moon.
As Charlie settled down, a broad grin on his face, Catherine moved to the doorway to stand beside Mark. They both watched his son, contentedly lying down with the rest of the class.
Mark reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘Thank you. I think being in this classroom is just as thrilling for him as watching a man land on the moon.’
His touch sent sensations fluttering through her body and she turned towards him to find his eyes gazing into hers. She’d never dared to believe, until now, that Mark felt something for her. The breath she’d been holding left her body in a sigh as he smiled, his hand still enfolding hers. ‘Catherine,’ he whispered.
The sound of voices in the corridor was like a slap. Catherine pulled her hand away and cleared her throat. ‘Yes, we’re excited about the new CA store at Cradoc,’ she said, her voice tight and louder than necessary. ‘Dave’s glad he didn’t rebuild the cool store. CA is going to change the way apples are marketed. We can store the fruit for much longer.’
Mark frowned in confusion, but she nodded in the direction of the two men walking towards them. A look of understanding spread across his face. ‘CA? What does it stand for again? You’ve got to forgive this city slicker, I’m still catching up with all the jargon.’ He chuckled. It sounded forced to Catherine’s ears, but hopefully not to someone who didn’t know him.
‘Ah, Mr Davis.’ The men were upon them now. Catherine knew them. Mr McKinley was raw-boned and red-faced, his fair skin roughened by decades of sun, wind and sleet. The McKinley boys were known to be bullies. Mr Stacey was small and dark; his children were wary and sneaky.
‘City slicker, you say.’ It was McKinley who addressed them. ‘But you’ve been in the district for what – over two years? Surely you’re up to speed by now. Or do you still need lessons from our pretty young school teacher?’ He gave them a lewd wink and his friend snickered.
Catherine stepped forward. ‘Did you enjoy the broadcast, gentlemen? An exciting day, isn’t it?’
‘Lot of money wasted, in my opinion.’ McKinley scowled. ‘Going to the moon? It’s just rock and dust. What good does it do anyone? The Yanks only wanted to beat the Commies, plant their Star-Spangled Banner and claim it for themselves. Bah!’
‘But what an achievement. It’s captivated the world.’
‘They shoulda spent the money helping the farmers who are doing it tough. We’re the ones who put food on the tables of all those eggheads and flyboys. All them millions? Should have thrown some our way.’
‘Coulda got me a new tractor at least,’ added Stacey.
Catherine’s forced smile was in danger of fading. ‘The government helps out with subsidies and concessions. And there was all the help we got after the fire and through the drought.’
‘Yeah, like your nice new house. The fire did you a favour there.’
Catherine stepped back. How could anyone say that? Mark put a steadying hand under her elbow.
‘Come on, mate,’ Mark said. ‘You know Catherine’s family did it tough. They had the worst of all possible losses.’
A flicker of shame clouded McKinley’s eyes. ‘Yeah, well. There was that.’ He rallied. ‘But I had fruit locked up in the Suez Canal that year. Hell, it’s still there. Ain’t seen no insurance for it yet either.’
Catherine couldn’t believe it. The Six-Day War and the blockading of the Suez Canal had put some orchardists out of pocket, but they were all insured and would see the money one day. How could it possibly compare to her family’s loss? She still missed her brother constantly and her mother was slipping back, not getting better. The crying at night had begun again, and the listlessness.
‘I need to check on the children.’ Catherine’s voice trembled and she hated herself for it. The last thing she wanted to do was show weakness in front of these men. No wonder the McKinley boys were bullies. Their father had taught them well.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Mark said.
Mr Stacey sniggered and nudged McKinley. ‘I bet he will, too.’
‘Pardon?’ Mark squared up to the men.
‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist, pretty boy.’ McKinley stepped closer. ‘Everyone knows about you and the lovely young teacher here. The women don’t approve, but I reckon they’re jealous. And me,’ he looked at Catherine with another suggestive leer, ‘I gotta admit I wouldn’t mind a bit myself.’
Mark’s face reddened, his hands clenched at his sides. ‘What?’ The word exploded out of him.
‘You’re a married man. I’m a married man. Clearly she likes them married.’
A sour taste rose in Catherine’s throat. He was talking about her as if she were a harlot. She turned to Mark. If he did anything it would only make this worse. ‘Leave it,’ she croaked. ‘Please.’
‘Yeah, you’d better listen to your girlfriend, otherwise you might not look so pretty any more.’ McKinley postured like a rooster and Stacey strutted like a bantam, backing him up.
‘Daddy?’
All heads turned to the classroom. Charlie was propped up on his mat, frowning at them, his hair mussed from sleep. One look at his innocent face gave Catherine the strength she needed. A searing heat raced through her as she turned back to the men. ‘Mark and I have done nothing wrong.’ She kept her voice low. ‘All we have done is love and care for a young boy who desperately needed it at a difficult time. It’s people like you who’ve made it ugly with your small minds and vicious tongues. Tell that to your wives. Tell that to the whole valley.’
McKinley and Stacey leant away from her onslaught. Expecting a fight with Mark, they’d been caught off guard by her words. McKinley huffed awkwardly and Stacey’s eyes darted back and forth from his accomplice to Catherine and Mark.
‘I think you’d better leave,’ Mark said.
His words snapped McKinley out of his trance. He shook himself like a dog. ‘That’d be right, pretty boy. Getting a woman to fight your battles for you.’ He swaggered past Mark, bumping hard up against him on his way.
Mark shot a quick look at Catherine who shook her head. He let the men past.
McKinley turned back towards them and called out down the corridor, ‘Oh and pretty boy, CA stands for Controlled Atmosphere. That’s something you and your pretty teacher should learn more about – controlling your atmosphere.’ He let out a cold bray of laughter as Stacey sniggered beside him.
Mark tensed. Catherine touched his hand. He shot her an agonised look and then watched the men walk away.
Charlie ran up to him and threw his arms around his legs. ‘I don’t like those men, Daddy.’
‘That’s okay, w
e don’t like them either.’ Mark hoisted Charlie up and hugged him.
Charlie wriggled free.
‘I’m a big boy now. I’m at school.’ He grinned, his small white teeth in a perfect row.
‘Yes, you are,’ Catherine said. Her heart rate was beginning to slow, but the anger remained.
Mark touched her arm tentatively. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Truthfully, I don’t know. Those men are vile but they just said what everyone must be thinking.’
‘Not everyone.’
A child’s voice called out from the classroom. ‘Miss Turner. I need to go to the toilet.’ It was Sally Meadows. She had the smallest bladder of any child she’d ever taught.
‘I have to go.’ Catherine lowered her head, not wanting to meet his eyes.
‘We can stay if you need us to.’
‘No.’ If he stayed, everyone who left the assembly hall would see them together. She’d had more than she could stand of poisonous thoughts and tongues.
‘We’ll see you later, then.’
‘Sure.’ But she knew she was lying. She bent down to give Charlie a hug goodbye, pressing all the love in her heart into his small body. It wasn’t his fault. Nothing was, but he wouldn’t understand. Finally she stood, forcing back the tears. She was going to miss him.
21
24 August 1969
Mark
Charlie’s murmured words made no sense, garbled nonsense from a fretful mind. Mark rested the back of his hand on his son’s forehead. So hot. Outside, sleet battered the hut, searching out the cracks in the wooden boards, under the door and between the window frames. During their first winter at the orchard, Dave had helped Mark line the hut with layers of newspaper and straw, keeping it in place with thin sheets of plywood. This rough insulation helped a little, but when the southerlies hit, the frigid air penetrated the smallest of openings. But today, even the icy draught was no help in lowering Charlie’s temperature. Fever raged through his small body. Mark pressed a cold washcloth to Charlie’s face, dabbing his cheeks, his neck, his chest, anything to cool him down. Less than a week ago, when news of the Woodstock Festival had filtered through to the valley, Mark had wished he was there, either as one of the muddy thousands gathered to hear the music or, even better, up on that stage. Now all he wanted was his son to be well.
The Last of the Apple Blossom Page 14