Short and Sweet Part 25

Only Rose knew what she'd been doing. She was going to read the novel for Jenny and had promised to be totally honest about her reactions. Which led to a few days of nail biting.

*I love it,' Rose said when she brought the ma.n.u.script back.

*Do you really? You're not just saying that?'

*Didn't I promise to be honest? I can see your heroine as clearly as I see you. And I was half in love with the hero.' She patted Jenny's arm. *You're better at writing than I thought you'd be.'

*But what do I do with it now?' Jenny wondered aloud as she stared at the final draft. She was terrified of submitting it to a publisher. It was one thing to be rejected. Most novelists got rejected at first. But what if they said she couldn't write for toffee? That'd ruin her bright new life.

The next day she saw an advert for a compet.i.tion run by a popular women's magazine and in a fit of what-the-h.e.l.ls, she sent off her story.

Then she started writing another. She was utterly determined to get published, however long it took.

Ten weeks later the phone rang and a man's voice said, *Jenny Foster?'

*I don't want to buy anything.' she began automatically.

He chuckled. *I'm from Janson Grey publishers. I'm Matt Perney, calling to say you've won our "Write a Bestseller" compet.i.tion.'

Jenny gasped and clutched at the desk. *I don't believe it.'

Another chuckle. *It was a great story. Look, we want you to come to the presentation night next month. It'll be a big occasion, with a very elegant dinner. What about your family? Do you want to invite them?'

*I'll .a.a. let you know.'

Jenny picked up the phone to ring her family, then put it down again, smiling as a much better idea occurred to her.

She made all the arrangements then rang them next evening. *I've got a surprise for you. I'm taking you all out for a very special dinner, yes, your new guy as well, Helen. Oh, and my friend Rose is coming too. I've booked the babysitters, it's all arranged. You just have to be ready when the limo arrives to pick you up.'

*When are you going to tell them?' Rose whispered as they sat in the limo.

*I'm not. When you're writing, you're taught "Show, don't tell" and that's what I'm doing tonight. Showing them I'm a success.'

The evening was dazzling. Matt, who was in on the secret, winked at her as she led her family into the s.p.a.cious function room. She was relieved that the presentations were before the meal, because it would have been hard to keep the secret otherwise.

When the speeches began, Jenny exchanged glances with Rose and tried to calm her pounding pulse.

*.a.a. and now, I'll stop talking and announce the winner of the compet.i.tion, who is .a.a. Jenny Foster.'

There was dead silence at the table as Jenny stood up and walked to the dais. She accepted the congratulations of the speaker, a novelist whose books she read avidly, then delivered the short speech she'd prepared.

When she got back to the table, her daughters were still looking stunned. Liz said, *Why didn't you tell us you were into writing, Mum?'

*You never asked what I was doing with my computer, just expected it to be a plaything.'

Silence. Then Liz said slowly, *No, we didn't ask, did we?' Her voice sounded awed. *I can't believe it. My mother's a novelist!' She got up to hug her mother and Helen hugged her from the other side.

*We let you down, didn't we?' Helen said.

*No, you spurred me on. If things had gone smoothly between us, I might never have given writing the effort it needed.'

Helen picked up her gla.s.s. *To Mum.' Then she let out a blood-curdling yell and danced her mother round the table.

The Group Settler's Wife.

Anna's Notes.

The first version of this novella was commissioned by the tiny town of Northcliffe, Western Australia, as part of its collection for a Forest Arts Walk. This was a project to draw tourists to the area, where the timber industry was in decline, with sculptures and paintings and stories.

I loved learning about the history of Northcliffe and working with the various other artists.

After this story was finished, I just had to write a longer novel for my UK publisher, with the same background. Freedom's Land was born, which my old agent considered one of my best novels. Group Settlement is an iconic part of Australia's history and the people who settled the land in groups were for the most part brave and hard-working. I admire them very much. I couldn't have done what they did.

The following story has been published in several formats, including as a serial for an English women's magazine. There are slight variations to each version, but the story is basically the same, and is as true to the early settlers' lives as I could make it.

Part One.

Australia, January 1924.

The s.h.i.+p bringing the migrants to Australia docked in Fremantle on a hot summer's day in January, seven weeks after leaving England. The settlers crowded by the rails to see their new country and Bill gave Maggie a quick hug, then hugged eight-year-old Jenny too. Peter stepped back hastily. At ten he considered himself too old to cuddle.

*I'm glad that's over,' Bill said. *I'm never making such a long journey again.'

*I enjoyed it.' She'd made friends, played deck games and benefited from a good long rest. She would definitely be travelling on a s.h.i.+p again one day to go back and see her family, she was determined about that.

It was hours before they were allowed to disembark because they had to undergo medical and customs checks.

Bill muttered about being treated like a flock of sheep as they were herded into a battered old charabanc and driven to the Immigrants' Home in South Fremantle, but cheered up as they saw parrots flying about freely.

As on the s.h.i.+p, they had to sleep separately, with women and girls in dormitories, and men and boys outside on the enclosed veranda. Food was plain but plentiful, and the women were expected to help with ch.o.r.es like was.h.i.+ng up.

Maggie felt a bit shy because there were other women who hadn't been on the s.h.i.+p. But she soon realized they were just as eager to make friends. Bill was soon deep in conversation with some of the men and her children had never had trouble making friends.

Jenny bounced out of bed the first morning, rus.h.i.+ng to the window to stare out. *Look, Mum, it's sunny again.'

*Shh. Speak quietly.'

*Dad said it was too hot yesterday, but I liked it.'

*So did I.'

*Can we get dressed and go downstairs?'

*Who wants to stay in bed on a beautiful morning like this?'

After their weeks on the s.h.i.+p, the children looked brown and healthy as they ran about in the gardens with the other children. The Spencers weren't the only ones wanting to give their families a better chance in life, Maggie had found.

Fair-skinned Bill suffered from the heat, getting a rash on his neck, but Maggie and the children revelled in it.

What with the sunny weather and blue skies, it seemed as if they really had come to a land of milk and honey. Perhaps Bill had been right to insist on coming here.

But oh, she missed her mother and sisters so much!

A few days later Bill came rus.h.i.+ng into the kitchen to find Maggie. *We're leaving by train tomorrow for the south-west!'

All the women working there gathered round him to listen to the details.

*We go in our groups and stay somewhere called Pemberton the first night, then we go on to our farms by motor vehicle the next day.'

*I wonder what Northcliffe is like,' Maggie said. *I hope it's a pretty town.'

*It's our farm I'm interested in.'

*I hope we manage all right. We don't really know anything about farming, even if you did read a book on it.'

He waved his fork dismissively in the air. *That's why they're sending families in groups, with a foreman to show us how to go on.'

She sighed. Bill was a clever man and had never had trouble learning anything from a book, but farming was such a different life. Still, they weren't the only townies in the group. The West Australian government must know what it was doing.

The next day they set off early, full of excitement. But this faded a little as the journey seemed to go on for ever. The children were as good as you could expect, tumbling out of the train and running round whenever it stopped, which it did quite often. They wolfed down the pies and cakes she bought at the stations and drank the tepid water from dripping station taps because the hot weather made you thirsty.

Bill grew very quiet, frowning out of the window at the beige, sunburnt landscape.

*You all right?' she asked.

*What? Oh yes, fine. Just thinking. It's not very pretty, is it?'

It was very different from Lancas.h.i.+re, that was sure. *It doesn't matter, not really. We still have one another.'

But he didn't smile at her and he continued to look worried.

They didn't arrive at Pemberton until after eleven o'clock at night, by which time Bill had one of the headaches that were a result of a head wound during the war. It wasn't the only legacy of war. He hadn't wanted to make love to her since he'd first fought in France. She missed the closeness dreadfully. Would he never touch her in that way again?

It was terrible what war did to people's lives.

They were greeted by members of the Citizens' Voluntary Committee, who offered them sandwiches and drinks. The tea had been made in a big square tin labelled *Laurel Kerosene' on the outside and was dipped out by jug.

She sipped the dark liquid gratefully.

Bill yawned and eased his shoulders. *Where do we sleep?' he asked the man in charge.

*In the railway carriages, mate.'

*What? You must be joking.'

*There isn't anywhere else to sleep.'

Bill continued to grumble and fuss as they settled down.

*Why is Daddy so grumpy?' Jenny asked when she and her mother went to the ladies.

*He has one of his headaches.'

*He's always having them.'

Maggie pretended to fall asleep quickly, as the children did. She didn't have the energy to jolly Bill along tonight.

And although he'd been happier since they left England, reminding her sometimes of the cheerful young man she'd married, there were still days like today. She closed her eyes. Her last thought was: they'd reach their destination tomorrow.

Surely things would get better after that?

Five hours later they were woken by a man with a hand bell, to face a cool, misty morning. Tea and bacon sandwiches were provided for breakfast, and they were given other sandwiches in brown paper bags for later in the day.

Maggie went to thank the tired-looking woman serving them from the huge tin of steaming tea, then stayed to chat. *Have you had many group settlers through here?'

*A few, but it's only just starting.' She hesitated then added, *I'd better warn you: they've not got all the temporary huts built yet, let alone the permanent houses. You might find yourselves sleeping in tents for a while. But nights aren't cold at this time of year and it doesn't rain much in summer, so you'll be all right.'

*Oh.'

The woman gave her a wry look. *You're the one with the complaining husband.'

Maggie could feel herself blus.h.i.+ng.

*It takes time to build huts a which the government should have realized. It's not our fault they sent you here too soon. Everyone's doing their best to make you welcome. We want more people in the south-west of this state.'

Maggie nodded. *We appreciate your help. Bill was a um a a bit tired yesterday.'

As she walked away, she heard the woman say, *She seems a nice woman, pretty too. I don't envy her with that husband, though.'

Maggie refused to let that comment get her down. No one was perfect. And Bill was getting better. She knew he cared about them, would work his fingers to the bone to give the children this chance.

He greeted her with a smile, then helped her up into the flat, open back of a vehicle people here called a *truck'. It had rails round the back but no roof. *We'll have to sit on our trunks or else the floor.'

*I don't mind.'

The roads were the worst Maggie had ever seen in her life and they were b.u.mped about like dried peas in a baby's rattle. Several times a truck would get trapped in one of the deep ruts and then everyone had to get out while the men and older boys pushed the vehicle out of the hole.

Peter was always by his father's side, helping the men. He was growing up fast, too fast for Maggie.

*We always get these hold-ups,' one of the drivers said. *One day we'll have proper roads through these forests.' He laughed and added, *But we might not live long enough to see it!'

It was the trees which lifted Maggie's spirits, so tall and beautiful were they, shedding a pleasant dappled light over everything. Some had been felled and six people could easily have stood on one huge stump. She wished she'd seen that tree when it was growing. It must have been magnificent.