Matilda's Last Waltz Part 28

'G'day, Jen. Great party, eh?'

She was standing with her back to him at the top of the steps and at first he thought she hadn't heard him. He was about to speak again when finally she turned round, and what he saw made him go cold. Her eyes were focused on a distant point beyond his shoulder and her face could have been hewn from marble for all the emotion it showed.

'I suppose it was all right if you like that kind of thing. But then I'm used to less parochial entertainment.' She sounded cold and superior, quite unlike her usual self.

He frowned. This was not the woman who'd danced so enthusiastically in his arms. Not the woman who'd smiled and laughed and who'd seemed so at ease with him two nights before. His spirits tumbled. This distant creature was a world away from the Jenny he knew and loved. 'What's happened?' he said quietly.

She stared off into the distance as remote and unreachable as the horizon. 'I realise I have nothing in common with the people out here,' she said coldly. 'Diane is going back to Sydney in a week's time. I plan to leave with her.'

He was appalled at her ruthlessness. 'But you can't,' he spluttered. 'What about us?'

She looked at him then, violet eyes as hard and bright as uncut amethyst. 'Us. Mr Wilson? There is no "us" as you put it. I own Churinga. You are my manager. It's not your place to question my decisions.'

'b.i.t.c.h,' he breathed, appalled that he'd been so easily taken in. She was no better than Marlene.

It was as if Jenny hadn't heard him. 'I'll have my lawyer inform you of my plans. Until then you may remain as manager.' She turned away, and before he could speak had slammed the front door behind her and was gone.

Brett stood there for a long moment, anguish and confusion fighting an inner battle as he waited for her to come back out. It had to be some kind of cruel joke she'd been playing. But why? Why? What had happened in the past twelve hours to bring about such a change in her? What had he done?

He took a step back, then another, and after a last, long look at the door, he turned and walked away. Logic told him he was better off without her, but his heart told him otherwise. Despite her denial, something must have happened to make her turn so nasty. As he leaned on the fence of the home pasture, he thought back over the previous night's dance. She'd been happy then, warm and compliant in his arms, her perfume making him giddy with pleasure. He'd almost told her how he'd felt but Charlie Squires had b.u.t.ted in and dragged her off to join the Kurrajong party in a reel. That had been the last time Brett had danced with her. Minutes later he too had been dragged into a hectic dance with his mates and by the time he could extricate himself she'd left the barn.

His eyes became slits as he looked into the horizon. He'd gone outside to look for her but he hadn't found her, and now, as he thought about it, he realised there had been no sign of Charlie's car either. His knuckles showed white as he gripped the railings. Charles and Jenny. Jenny and Charles. Of course. How could he have been so stupid as to think he had a chance with a woman like her when Charles Squires could offer so much more? Lorraine had been right all along. Jenny had tasted what life could be for the rich squatters, had been charmed by that womanising snake Charles Squires and had decided she liked what she saw.

Memory brought snapshot images of them dancing together. Two heads close together as they talked and sipped champagne. They were two of a kind. Rich and educated, more at home in the city than on the land. It was only to be expected that Jenny wouldn't look twice at a man who could offer her nothing but the sweat of his brow.

Feeling sick with disappointment, Brett pushed himself away from the railings and headed for the barns. He no longer cared that Churinga would be swallowed up by Kurrajong for what good would it do him if he didn't have Jenny by his side to run it?

He squinted into the sun as he saddled up the gelding and turned towards the winter pastures. There was work to be done and if he concentrated on it hard enough it might just dull the pain.

Jenny leaned against the door, the tears hot as they rolled down her face. The break was final but she would never forget the look of contempt in Brett's eyes for the way she had done it. And yet it was the only course she could have taken. If she had relented she would have been lost.

'Strewth, Jen. That was harsh.'

She smeared away the tears and sniffed. 'Had to be done, Diane.'

'Maybe. But you came over as a real b.i.t.c.h and that's just not you.' Diane's expression was concerned. 'Are you sure you've done the right thing?'

'Too late for doubts.'

'Yes,' her friend replied slowly. 'I rather think you've burned all your boats there.'

Jenny pushed herself away from the door. 'There's no point in discussing this, Diane. What's done is done. I'm not proud of the way I treated him but he needed to be taught a lesson.' She s.h.i.+fted her gaze from Diane's direct stare. 'I'm a big girl now,' she said defiantly. 'I can take the consequences.'

'So you reckon you'll be able to face him in the coming week then?'

Jenny nodded. Yet shame and heart-ache were strange bedfellows, and to be asked to a.n.a.lyse how she would feel when she saw Brett again would take too much effort.

Diane folded her arms around herself. 'Rather you than me, girl. If it was me, I'd be out of here today. That claustrophobia thing has suddenly become horribly real.'

Jenny knew exactly what she meant but was d.a.m.ned if she was going to let Brett influence her decisions. 'I won't be forced out of my home until I'm ready,' she stated roundly. 'I want to finish the diaries first.'

'Why not take them with you? I don't mind leaving earlier than planned, and you can read them just as well in Sydney.'

'No, I can't. Matilda wants me to keep them here on Churinga.'

'Seems like a lot of fuss over a few mouldy old books. What does it matter?'

'It matters to me and to Matilda,' Jenny said quietly.

Diane's expression was scathing. 'You don't really believe that, do you?' Her expression changed to wonder as Jenny remained silent. 'Are you telling me you think Matilda's ghost lives on at Churinga?'

'Her spirit's here, yes,' Jenny replied defiantly. 'I feel her presence so clearly sometimes, it's as if she's with me in the room.'

Diane shook her head. 'It's definitely time you got out of this place, Jen. All this isolation has turned your brain to mush.'

Jenny eyed her for a moment, then went into the bedroom. When she returned, Diane was stacking canvases.

'These are wonderful. We could have an exhibition when we get back, and I wouldn't mind betting it'll be a sell out.'

'Leave those, Diane.' She had no heart to discuss her paintings. They were done when she was content to stay, now they were just a reminder of what she was about to lose. 'I want you to read Matilda's diaries. Then perhaps you'll understand why they have to stay here on Churinga.'

It was Sunday evening, 3 September 1938, and Matilda was visiting Tom and April. The news from Europe had steadily grown worse and since Hitler's invasion of Poland on Friday speculation was rife. There was silence in the little kitchen as they listened to the cut gla.s.s Pommy accent of the announcer introducing Prime Minister 'Pig Iron Bob' Menzies.

'Fellow Australians,' he began in his rea.s.suring accent, 'it is my melancholy duty to inform you officially that in consequence of the persistence by Germany in her invasion of Poland, Great Britain has declared war upon her, and that as a result, Australia is also at war.'

There was a gasp from April and Matilda, an excited murmur from the boys.

'Our staying power, and that of the Mother Country, will be best a.s.sisted by keeping our production going, continuing our avocations and business, maintaining employment, and with it, our strength. I know that in spite of the emotions we are feeling, Australia is ready to see it through.'

April reached for Tom's hand, hope bright in her eyes. 'You won't have to go, will you Tom? The Prime Minister said it was important to keep working the land.'

He put his arm around her shoulders. 'They won't want all of us, April. But it'll be hard work keeping the place going without the men.'

Matilda looked at him and saw the flare of excitement in his eyes. How long would it be before he succ.u.mbed to the war fever that was sweeping the outback? she wondered. The two-way radio at Churinga was a conduit for gossip and speculation, just as it was in every homestead in New South Wales. She had listened in to try and catch the mood, and had soon realised that the men were eager for war, and although their hearts were breaking, the women couldn't quite resist the opportunity to boast of their sacrifice to the cause.

'My drovers have already volunteered,' Matilda said quietly. 'They came on Friday, after the world news, and handed in their notice.'

She gave a mirthless smile. 'Said it was a chance to get out and show the rest of the world what tough men we breed out here.' Her tone was scathing. 'If you ask me, it's just an excuse for one glorious punch up. Better than anything in the pub on a Friday night far more exciting than a bunch of shearers on the rampage.'

She fell silent as she caught the expression of bewildered fear on April's face, but she knew she spoke the truth. The Australian male would go to any length to prove his manliness, and they both knew Tom was no different.

April looked at her boys, who sat wide-eyed around the table. 'Thank G.o.d they're only babies,' she murmured.

'I'm not a baby, Ma. I'm nearly seventeen,' Sean protested, sc.r.a.ping back his chair, his face alive with excitement. 'I just hope it goes on long enough for me to join in.'

April slapped him hard across the face. 'Don't you dare talk like that,' she screamed.

Sean stood tall in the ensuing, shocked silence, his bony wrists peeking from his cuffs, his s.h.i.+rt b.u.t.tons straining over his expanding chest. His face bore the impression of his mother's fingers, but the brightness in his eyes had nothing to do with the pain she'd inflicted.

'I'm almost a man,' he said proudly. 'And an Australian. I'll be proud to fight.'

'I forbid it,' shrieked April.

He ran his work-roughened hand over his bruised cheek. 'I won't stay here hiding behind your skirts while my mates are fighting,' he said firmly. 'I'll join up as soon as they'll have me.' He looked around at them all then quietly left the room.

April broke down and sobbed into her hands. 'Oh, G.o.d. Tom, what's to become of us? Am I supposed to see my man and my child go off to war with no say at all?' There was no reply and she lifted her tear-streaked face to him. 'Tom? Tom?'

He made a helpless gesture with his hands. 'What can I say, April? The boy is old enough to make his own decisions, but I'll do my best to keep him home until he's called up.'

Her sobs came from deep within and Tom drew her into his arms. 'Don't fret yourself, luv. I'm not going anywheres until I have to and neither's Sean.'

Matilda caught a glimpse of sixteen-year-old Davey's expression and went cold. He too had caught the battle fever and the influence of his older brother would make it hard to convince him he would be needed on the property.

She got up from the table and shepherded the younger boys out of the room. Tom and April needed time together and it wasn't fitting for them to see their mother so distressed. After answering the boys' many questions, and calming their excitement and bewilderment, she finally blew out the kerosene lamps and went out to the verandah.

Sean's outburst had shocked her as much as it had April. Matilda had watched the boys grow and like April still considered them to be children. And yet after tonight she could see there would be trouble, for Sean and Davey were indeed almost men. The outback life had made them tough. They could ride and shoot as well as Tom, and the sun had already baked their skin and threaded fine lines around eyes and mouth. Bushmen would be welcomed in the army ranks for their tenacity and strength just as they had been in Gallopoli.

Over the following year Matilda and April clung to the hope they could keep Tom and Sean on the land, but the war news was a distant rumble that encroached on the outback world and finally demanded its men take up arms and leave the land to the women, the boys and the elderly.

Even in the good times manpower was short; now it was at crisis level. The drought was in its fifth year and rain was a distant memory, the price of feed was high, and because of the explosion in the rabbit population gra.s.s was scarce. Matilda and Gabriel patrolled the pastures, moving the mob constantly to conserve the brittle gra.s.s. They slept out, rolled up in blankets, alert for predators, knowing that any loss could spell disaster.

The battle of Dunkirk finally opened the flood-gates and Australians poured into the recruiting centres to sign up for the Second Australian Imperial Force. The outback seemed more deserted than ever and Matilda wondered how long she could hold on to Churinga. The past years of work had increased the mob ten-fold but that increase meant more work, more expensive feed, and without the men to help her, she knew it would be far harder to survive.

It was the middle of June but not a cloud marred the blue of the sky as she rode into Wallaby Flats to say goodbye to Tom and Sean. The little town was bustling. A bra.s.s band played outside the hotel, cars, trucks and horses were lined up beside wagons, and children ran wild.

Matilda tied the horse to the hitching post and studied the faces around her. She recognised drovers, stockmen, shearers and squatters and even one or two of the drifters who had occasionally worked for her. War fever had struck deep into the heart of the outback and she had a terrible feeling that it would never be the same again.

Ethan Squires stood beside his gleaming motor car. James, Billy, Andrew and Charles looked handsome in their officer's uniforms as they drank champagne, but their laughter was too high-pitched, too loud, and she could tell that for all their youthful sophistication, they were as scared as everyone else.

The publican's boy looked far too young to have been called up and she suspected he must have lied about his age as so many others had done. The store-keeper's two sons stood quietly in the shade of the pub verandah, as alike as two fleas on a sheep's back, their yellow heads bent towards each other as they read a newspaper.

Yet it was the women who caught her attention and held it. Their faces were resolutely closed on all emotion. Heads high, they watched as their menfolk gathered in front of the pub. They were too proud to let their weakness show in tears but their eyes betrayed them. Glistening, following every movement of their loved ones as they shuffled past the table to show their letters. Hoping, always hoping, that their man would be turned away. Gone was the parrakeet chatter, the patriotism that had fired gossip and speculation. This was harsh reality, and nothing could have prepared them for it.

Matilda watched it all with growing anger. A line of army trucks stood outside the store in the sweltering heat, engines running, exhausts churning out black smoke as their drivers lounged against the bonnets. They would take away the men and some faceless, nameless soldier would train them to kill others. And if the men were lucky very lucky they might bring them back. But war would have changed them, would have killed their spirit, just as it had with Mervyn.

The drivers climbed into their trucks and revved the engines. Fathers shook hands awkwardly with sons, the b.l.o.o.d.y-minded image of the tough Australian male making them afraid to show the emotions that must have been sweeping through them. And yet the women were obviously finding it even harder.

Matilda could sense their longing to touch and hold loved ones just once more before the trucks took their men away, but their harsh lives had instilled in them an inner core of steel. They were mothers and wives, stalwarts of the outback stations who were expected to remain strong in adversity. Matilda could see how it hurt to keep the tears at bay, how agonising it was for the mothers not to kiss their sons just one last time, and gave up a silent prayer of thanks that she had no menfolk to send. The little silver brooches given to the women as a symbol of their sacrifice were no compensation for this heart-break.

Matilda stepped off the porch and slowly made her way through the crowds to Tom and April. She could see Sean, tall by his father's side, so grown up in his brown uniform and slouch hat, a mirror image of Tom. April was weeping. Slow, silent tears that rolled down her face as she clung to their hands and devoured them with her eyes. The younger boys were strangely still, as though in awe of this momentous occasion, not fully understanding what it might mean to them.

Tom looked over April's head and smiled as Matilda approached. His face was ashen and she could see he was fighting to keep control of his emotions.

She stepped into his embrace and stood on tip-toe to kiss his cheek. He was the brother she'd never had. His leaving would create an enormous void in her life.

'Take care of yourself, Tom,' she murmured. 'And don't worry about April and the boys, I'll watch out for them.'

'Thanks, Molly.' He cleared his throat. 'April's going to need you, and I know you'll never let her down.'

One by one he rested his hand on the heads of the other boys, stopping just a little longer over Davey. 'Look after the women, son. I'm depending on you.'

The sixteen-year-old nodded as he twisted his hat in his hands, but Matilda could see the longing in his eyes as Tom and Sean finally boarded the truck, and knew it wouldn't be long before he joined them.

She put her arm around April's waist as the truck pulled away and the boys chased after it, waving their hats and shouting. All around them women surged forward to get just one more glimpse, but all too soon there was only a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes on the horizon.

'You're coming back with me, April,' Matilda said firmly. 'No point in you and the boys going back to an empty house tonight.'

'What about the stock?' April's eyes were huge in her pinched little face. 'The rabbits have eaten most of the gra.s.s and I need to hand-feed the mob.'

'You've still got two stockmen to do that, April. They might be too old for war but they're strong and know what they're doing.'

Matilda thought of the two elderly men and thanked G.o.d for them. The two properties were suffering enough from the drought and the rabbits, it would have been impossible to keep a constant watch on the two mobs without them. April was going to need a good deal of shoring up if she was to be of any use. There was no point in letting her dwell on her sorrow.

'The rabbits can eat all the gra.s.s they want tonight,' Matilda said as she steered the family towards the horses. 'Come tomorrow, Davey and the boys can go back to Wilga then I'll teach you how to muster the mob and shoot the rabbits. G.o.d knows how long this war will last, but we have to make sure Wilga and Churinga keep going until the men get back.'

April looked at her, the tears once again threatening. 'They will come back, won't they?'

Matilda mounted her horse and gathered up the reins. 'Of course they will,' she said with more a.s.surance than she felt.

'How can you be so strong, Matilda? So sure that everything will turn out right?'

'Because it's necessary,' she replied. 'To think anything else is defeatist.'

The days and weeks became months and the dividing fences between Churinga and Wilga were torn down. It was easier to keep an eye on the two mobs if they were kept together and would also ensure the gra.s.s wasn't over-grazed.

Like Gabriel and the two drovers, Matilda and April patrolled the fields with knives as well as rifles. The drought was taking its toll and dying beasts had to be quickly put out of their misery. A swift cut through the throat was the most humane way, but April found the whole business distressing and it was more often than not left to Matilda to make the final incision.

The land was hard-packed, baked into cracks. Dismal stands of trees drooped over the silver tendrils of gra.s.s the rabbits had left and dingos and hawks became more predatory. Mobs of 'roos, wombats and emus invaded the home pastures and had to be shot at or chased off. Water was down to a trickle in the rivers and streams and only the sulphurous bore water could be used to keep the stock alive. Churinga tanks were holding out but every drop of water was jealously guarded for yet another year had pa.s.sed and still no sign of a break in the drought.

The radio was their only link to the outside world, and it became a ritual that each night one of them would listen to the world news so it could be relayed to the others.

'Pig Iron' Bob stepped down and John Curtin formed a Labour government. The j.a.panese bombed Pearl Harbour and Hong Kong fell. Suddenly the war seemed very close and Matilda and April waited in dread. The great empty plains of Australia were too near to the Asian islands. If the j.a.panese invaded, there would be nothing to stop them. Australia was bereft of fighting men they were all in Europe and the yellow peril was suddenly a very real threat.

Matilda was struggling to crutch cut a squirming ram when she heard the sound of drumming hooves. s.h.i.+elding her eyes with her arm, she looked up and saw April, hair flying, skirts flapping, her heels urging on the horse as she rode headlong across the pasture. Matilda's pulse thudded dully as she waited. Only bad news would make her ride so fiercely.

She brought the animal to a shuddering halt and slid from his back. 'It's Davey, Matilda! Oh, my G.o.d, it's Davey...'

Matilda unloosed the clutching fingers, grasped her arms and gave her a shake. 'What's happened to him?'

April was incoherent and Matilda slapped her face. 'Pull yourself together, April and tell me what the h.e.l.l's happened to Davey?' she yelled.

The pinched little face froze as the mark of Matilda's hand bloomed on her cheek then she held out a sc.r.a.p of paper and collapsed in a storm of tears.