‘What a wonderful idea.’ When Catherine had lived at the cottage she’d always resorted to the toaster oven and camping stove in summer. She should have known Stardust would stay true to her love of the wood stove. ‘And everything looks so beautiful.’ The old wicker chairs were nowhere to be seen but in their place, crowded onto the small verandah, were the kitchen table and chairs. The table was covered with unbleached muslin and every place setting had a garland of daisies around it. In the centre sat an old jar crammed with more flowers and weeds.
‘All Stardust’s work,’ Izzy said with pride.
‘I brought beer.’ Mark handed over a couple of longnecks of Cascade, cold from the fridge at the house.
‘You beauty.’ Izzy took the bottles from him. ‘We’ll drink them later. Stardust has other plans for lunch.’
‘Do you need any help in the kitchen?’ Catherine asked.
Izzy snorted. ‘She won’t let me anywhere near the stove when she’s creating. She says they have a special bond and even the slightest variance in the energy throws it off balance. But thanks.’ She raised the bottles. ‘I’ll just put these in the fridge. That’s as far as she’ll let me go. Back in a sec.’
Charlie fiddled with the decorations, taking a dandelion from the railing. ‘I thought these were weeds.’
‘Not to everybody,’ Mark said. ‘Stardust sees all plants as beautiful in their own way. Useful too.’
Catherine would never think to use dandelions decoratively but had to admit their yellow petals added joy to the table. But useful? She couldn’t imagine how.
Stardust emerged from the cottage, her cheeks flushed, wearing an off-the-shoulder cheesecloth dress, dandelions and daisies in her braided hair, and her ever-present work boots. In each hand was a jug with condensation beading on the glass. ‘Isn’t it a glorious day?’ She smiled up to the summer sky. ‘Welcome to our summer solstice celebration.’
‘Thanks for inviting us.’ Catherine smiled at her. Stardust always looked like a fey spirit from another realm, even when she was working.
‘Our home is your home, in so many respects.’ Stardust put the jugs on the table. ‘Elderflower cordial and iced dandelion tea.’
‘Dandelion tea? Sounds great.’ Mark shot a look at Charlie.
Catherine was glad there was another option. ‘I’ll have an elderberry cordial, thanks.’
‘Please, have a seat.’ Stardust began to pour their drinks. ‘Hestia has told me our feast is ready.’
‘Hestia?’ Catherine asked as they squeezed into their chairs.
‘The stove. Goddess of the hearth and its fires.’
‘Oh, of course.’ Catherine had never thought to give the wood stove a name. Perhaps it would have been easier to tame if she had.
‘And she and Stardust have done us proud.’ Izzy carried a large tureen to the table. ‘To begin with, lentil soup.’
‘But first, we give thanks,’ Stardust said. ‘Let’s hold hands.’
Catherine was used to saying grace, she’d said it with her parents before every meal, but never while holding hands. She should’ve known Stardust would do things differently. She took hold of Mark’s hand on one side and Charlie’s on the other, giving Charlie’s a supportive squeeze.
‘Thank you to the spirits of the land, of the water and the air, who made this food available,’ Stardust chanted. ‘And our heartfelt thanks to the sun, for giving us life. We are grateful.’
Catherine bit her lip to stop her automatic response of ‘Amen’.
They released hands and Mark raised his glass of dandelion tea in a toast. ‘And thanks to you for your hospitality and this wonderful food.’
‘No worries, mate.’ Izzy was dishing out steaming bowls of thick, brown soup. ‘Dig in.’
Catherine took a tentative sip. It didn’t look appealing but was unexpectedly tasty. She recognised the flavours of onion, garlic and bay but the other ingredients escaped her. Mark ate the way he ate everything, with enthusiasm, while Charlie prodded it doubtfully with his spoon.
Izzy polished off her soup and gave a sigh of satisfaction. ‘And there’s plenty more to come.’
‘More soup?’ Charlie’s face fell. He’d hardly made a dent in his.
‘If you’d like. But you’ll want to save room for what’s coming up. Hunza pie. And rice pudding for dessert.’
‘I like pudding,’ Charlie said, hopefully. Since he and Mark had moved into the house, Catherine loved spoiling him with steamed puddings, self-saucing puddings, and apple pies and crumbles.
‘Did you hear the news?’ Izzy said. ‘You’re looking at the new darts champion of the middle pub.’
‘For real?’ Mark seemed pleased, if surprised.
‘Yeah. And they’ve asked me to join the team. We’re going to take on the other two pubs.’
‘Congrats,’ Mark said. ‘Cygnet has a reputation for being a bit rough on outsiders, but you two don’t seem to have had any trouble.’
Catherine knew about Cygnet’s reputation. She’d barely ever set foot in any of the pubs, but she’d heard the stories of punch-ups. For people who’d grown up here, the sight of the new arrivals with their flowing hair and tie-dyed clothes was a shock. The hippies were into peace not war, so she couldn’t imagine it was them who’d started the latest fight. It had been over a small amount of money one of the new arrivals had won on a beer ticket machine. That one little thing had ignited the simmering resentment, and punches were thrown.
‘Everyone loves Stardust,’ Izzy said proudly. ‘Who wouldn’t?’
‘We share a common bond,’ Stardust said. ‘All of us connected.’
‘What she means is we’re all dirt poor,’ Izzy explained. ‘The locals, the hippies, all of us. Nobody has much of anything, that’s our common bond. Some of the locals hate us. They say we’re good-for-nothing dole bludgers. But others can see we’re trying to make a go of it, just like them. There’s no landed gentry here, just the landed poor.’ She laughed her deep rasping chortle. ‘Plus I’m a shit-hot darts player. Everybody respects that.’
Charlie giggled and turned to his dad. ‘Izzy swore.’
‘Oh, God. Sorry, mate.’ Izzy looked horrified. ‘Forgot. Young ears and all that.’
‘Yeah, we’re not on the road any more, thank goodness.’ Mark assumed a serious expression and turned his attention to Charlie. ‘Izzy made a mistake and she’s sorry. There’s no need to use words like that, ever.’
Charlie shrugged. ‘Okay.’
Catherine suspected he’d heard worse from the older kids at school. Izzy’s and Mark’s reaction was appreciated though, considering they would’ve done a fair bit of swearing on tour.
The next course arrived – a pie filled with rice and spinach, and a salad of unidentifiable greens, strewn with dandelion and nasturtium petals. It required more chewing than Catherine was used to, and she only managed to eat half before declaring she was so full she couldn’t eat another bite.
Charlie patiently awaited the pudding, having only picked at the pastry of his pie, but when the dish of brown rice, raw sugar and soy milk arrived, his face fell again. ‘Could I have a Vegemite sandwich, please?’ he asked.
‘Let me see what I can find.’ Stardust floated back into the cottage and returned with a piece of her home-baked wholemeal bread. ‘I’ve spread it with a special Middle Eastern delicacy. A paste made from chickpeas and ground sesame seeds. It’s delicious.’
Charlie looked dismayed, and as soon as the meal was over asked to be excused to meet Scott and Eric who were fishing down by the river. Catherine suspected he’d go to the house first to fill up on white bread and Vegemite, plus a few rock cakes, before he went anywhere else.
Catherine helped clear the dishes, and as always did a double-take when she went inside the cottage. When Izzy had asked if they could do some redecorating, Catherine thought they meant some new curtains or a rug. Instead the kitchen was now painted bright orange, and the lounge room walls were a vibrant azure. Macrame hangi
ngs decorated the walls, batik material covered the couch and the cushions sparkled with little mirrors embroidered onto the multicoloured covers. The curtains were a rainbow of tie-dyed cotton and in their bedroom they’d painted not only the walls but the ceiling in a deep indigo, with the moon and stars in a constellation over it all. The scent of incense was heavy, and large half-melted candles sat on many of the surfaces. At least they were prepared for any power outages.
Back at the table, she settled into her seat. ‘Thanks for a lovely lunch. There were a few ingredients I hadn’t tasted before. Where do you find them? I can’t imagine they’re in stock at the Four Square.’
‘Stardust has found her tribe here.’ Izzy cracked open one of the bottles of beer. ‘They’ve formed a sort of co-op.’
‘There are many people who’ve come to the valley as we have, looking for a haven,’ Stardust said. ‘Naturally we gravitate towards each other.’
‘They take it in turns to drive up to Hobart for their supplies,’ Izzy explained. ‘Works out a lot cheaper to buy stuff in bulk. And you can get things there you can’t here.’
‘Great idea,’ Mark said.
Catherine nodded. These new arrivals were certainly resourceful.
‘There’s more happening than the co-op.’ Izzy leant forward, her eyes bright. ‘The friends we’ve made here are helping each other build their houses. Milled boards are cheap since the sawmills have started closing down, and you can buy windows for a song from the clearance sales, along with anything else including the kitchen sink.’ She smiled at her small joke. ‘I’m pretty good with a hammer and nails; turns out I’m not bad at plumbing either. One day we hope to build a little place of our own. That’s our dream. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that we don’t love the cottage, it’s just that having our independence is important.’
‘We are all interdependent, my love,’ Stardust corrected Izzy gently. ‘Everything is in a state of connectedness.’
‘Talking of which,’ Izzy continued. ‘Some of our friends have stalls at the market, selling the things they make – woodwork, pottery and the like. We’re thinking we might join them.’
‘What would you sell?’ Catherine asked.
‘You tasted some of it today. Pies, relishes and jams for starters. Stardust is pretty handy with the knitting needles, knows how to spin a fleece too. And we just happen to have some sheep.’
Catherine had checked the trees to see what damage the sheep had done. To her surprise, Stardust’s efforts in ‘connecting’ with them seemed to have had some effect. The sheep had kept their bark-chewing to only a few of the trees. When Izzy and Stardust left to build their own place with their tribe somewhere else, Catherine could always grub those trees out if they were too far gone, that is if she didn’t bulldoze the lot. ‘Are you talking about the Huonville market?’ She’d heard it was doing well with the tourists.
‘No, up in Hobart at Salamanca Place, on Saturday mornings.’
‘Isn’t it only on over summer?’ Mark asked.
‘So far, but the first Winter Market kicks off next year.’ Izzy clicked her fingers. ‘Hey, you should get a stall too.’
‘Us?’ Catherine was taken aback. ‘What would we sell?’
Izzy grinned. ‘Your cakes and biscuits are pretty special. People would snap them up.’ She often dropped in at the house at morning or afternoon tea time and could easily demolish half a cake in one visit.
Stardust shook her head gently. ‘Izzy, we shouldn’t be encouraging people to eat white flour and sugar.’
‘Just saying.’ Izzy shrugged. ‘It’s worth thinking about. Our friends are making a bit of money out of it, and God knows we could all do with some of that.’
Mark turned to Catherine with a look of enthusiasm. ‘What do you think?’
It wasn’t something Catherine had ever considered. A market stall? It’d be like being a shopkeeper. And all that baking meant she’d be stuck in the kitchen, instead of working in the orchard. ‘I really don’t think it’s feasible.’
‘Apply for the Winter Market,’ Stardust suggested. ‘It starts in April. We’ll be selling our beautiful apples. You could do the same.’
‘That could work.’ Mark was clearly keen. ‘I’ll take care of it – pack the apples, load up the ute.’
‘They provide trestle tables,’ Izzy said. ‘All you need to bring are your goods, a couple of chairs and a beach umbrella. The sun can get pretty hot.’
‘It’ll be winter, darling,’ Izzy said.
‘It’ll help keep the rain off then.’
‘It all sounds doable,’ Mark said. ‘What do you think? Wanna give it a go?’
Catherine had to admit another source of income, no matter how small, would be useful. And it’d only be one morning out of their busy week. She felt as though she was being pushed though, into something she wasn’t sure about. ‘I’ll think about it.’
‘While you’re doing that, let’s go for a swim in the dam.’ Izzy stood up. ‘It’s really warmed up.’
‘Wonderful idea,’ Stardust said, rising to her feet. ‘Hestia and I created a lot of heat together.’
‘We didn’t bring our bathers,’ Catherine said. ‘But I can scoot down to the house and get them.’
‘Bathers?’ Stardust seemed perplexed.
Izzy chuckled. ‘No need for bathers. We swim as nature intended.’
‘Skinny dipping?’ Catherine knew people did it, including Tim and his friends, but for the life of her couldn’t understand why.
‘Haven’t you ever done it before?’ Mark asked.
A blush rose in Catherine’s cheeks. Hopefully the flush already on her skin from the summer heat would provide some camouflage.
‘Hey, remember that tour to Queensland?’ Izzy said to Mark. ‘When we stopped at a beach just before we hit the Gold Coast. All that white sand and blue water, and nobody else there.’
‘How could I forget? Tigger almost got caught in a rip. We pissed ourselves laughing because if a boat picked him up they’d wonder why he was in the nuddy.’ Mark ran his fingers up Catherine’s bare arm. ‘I think you’d like it. It’s like being caressed all over by the gentlest touch.’
She shivered in pleasure.
‘And don’t worry,’ Izzy chimed in. ‘The dam’s tucked away from prying eyes. Not that there are people around anyway. It’ll just be us women, and a bloke whose bits I’m sure you’ve seen before.’
Now that summer was here, Stardust sometimes wore clothes so sheer little was left to the imagination, and Izzy often stripped down to only her shorts when she was working. Catherine found it confronting, but also intriguing. How could they be so comfortable with their own bodies? She’d been taught to hide hers away. But she’d had two lovers now and had enjoyed sharing herself with them completely. Perhaps it was time to let go of another taboo. She took Mark’s hand. ‘Okay.’
47
April 1975
Mark
The cool autumn breeze blew off the Derwent River, and over Constitution Dock where the fishing boats bobbed at their moorings. It raced through the plane trees flanking Salamanca Place straight to where Mark stood, behind their market stall. He pulled the scarf Stardust had knitted him higher around his neck. It wasn’t the prettiest of garments, but it was warm in all its natural and knobby glory. The market sat between the docks and a row of old sandstone warehouses. The buildings told the story of Hobart’s history, from the whaling days through to the apple boom and its demise. These days many of the warehouses were abandoned and dilapidated, with rusting gutters and boarded up windows, but on Saturday mornings Salamanca Place was full of life – people bustled from stall to stall shopping and eating, while buskers kept the crowds amused with music and magic tricks.
‘Are these fresh?’ A woman with a basket in one hand and a young child clinging to the other pointed at the Golden Delicious.
‘Picked them myself this week,’ Mark replied with a smile. ‘Would you like to try some?’ He chose a sunny-h
ued apple from the pile in front of him and sliced off a piece with a knife, handing it to the woman, then cut another for her son. ‘Want some too?’
The youngster nodded and wolfed it down.
‘I’ll take two pounds, please.’
‘Would you like me to put in a few smaller ones? Easier for little hands and little mouths.’ Mark nodded towards her son.
‘Yes, please.’
Mark weighed two pounds of apples on the scales hanging next to the trestle table. Fortunately it measured both in pounds and kilos for anyone, Mark included, still having trouble with the metric system. He popped in a couple of small apples for free. ‘There you go.’
The woman’s smile was easily worth the price of a couple of small apples. ‘That’s very generous, thank you. I’ll be sure to tell all my friends about your stall.’
Catherine had said he was a natural at selling. Maybe it had something to do with all those years on stage. But he genuinely enjoyed meeting and talking with people. It made him realise how isolated he’d been when he lived in the pickers’ hut with only Charlie for company most of the time.
A small crowd gathered around the stall wanting to buy Cox’s Orange Pippins, Cleopatras, Jonathans and the ever popular Golden Delicious. Some asked where his orchard was and how it was faring through the Tree Pull Scheme. The state of the Tasmanian apple industry often made the news, and none of it good.
Catherine and Charlie arrived back from checking out the other stalls just in time to help. Charlie was turning eleven this year, so weighing apples and counting change was great for his maths, plus he was paid pocket money for helping. Customers always loved hearing Catherine’s story of growing up on an orchard that had been in her family for generations.
‘What about the fires in ’67? Was your place damaged at all?’ one man asked as Catherine weighed some Jonathans.
‘It was tough. We pretty much had to start again,’ she said.
Mark noticed the corners of her mouth tighten. Seven years later and the fires were still a subject of conversation for locals and visitors alike. Catherine always bore the queries well, but he knew her heart still ached. Her daily visits to the walnut tree were proof.
The Last of the Apple Blossom Page 32