Bilgarra Springs (25 page)

Cal sat up quickly, turning to face her square on.

‘Ro...’

It was Aurora’s turn to place her fingers over his lips, cutting him off.

‘Let me finish. It worries me that the same thing would happen to me out here. I am used to people and noise and the rush and bustle of Australia’s largest city. I don’t know that the essence of who I am wouldn’t slowly shrivel up as well if I left all that I am used to and love.’

Cal tugged on her hand until she fell into him, wrapping his arms around her.

‘Maybe we should finish this discussion now. We’re going round in circles and as you said, you do have to leave tomorrow no matter what. How about we take it one day at a time after that and see what happens?’

Aurora could only nod her head against his chest.

They stayed out under the trees for the rest of the afternoon, only returning when the sun started its descent towards the horizon. Aurora had left Cal, who needed to go and see to the horses, and when she entered the courtyard, the others had come back from the dam and were lounging about all over the place. She couldn’t help but be amazed at the change in her from when she first arrived. The group hadn’t so much intimidated her at the beginning, but they had certainly been off putting for someone as reserved as she was. Now, she had to admit, she enjoyed the lot of them, well being truly honest, maybe not Matt, he hadn’t grown on her, but even Keith was better since Cal had punched him at the wedding and he had stopped trying to hit on her. He had an active sense of humour that had come out to play now that she was out of his sights as a conquest.

She dropped into a chair of her own and before she knew it Trudy had come and sat beside her, placing a Vodka Cruiser into her hand. Aurora looked at Trudy and half giggled.

‘Determined aren’t you?’

Trudy’s eyes were twinkling.

‘Well, we can’t send you back to Sydney the teetotaller that you were when you left. There’s all these other new things that you can now do. Since you’ve been here you’ve learnt to ride a horse, work cattle, fence, basic plumbing...’

Trudy paused in her list, thinking of what else to add. Aurora jumped in with an item of her own.

‘Don’t forget cook.’

Trudy erupted into full belly laughs, so loud that several of the others turned their faces to see what the commotion was about.

‘I’m still not sure that we could put our hand on our heart and vouch for you being a competent cook, but yes, you have improved in that area.’

Aurora gently pushed Trudy’s upper arm and smiled.

‘I’m not that bad.’

‘You certainly weren’t good when you arrived.’

‘Okay, point taken. As for these,’ Aurora lifted the Cruiser, ‘I think that I may have to leave some in the fridge at home. You have got a convert with these. They can keep their rum, scotch, even their bourbon, but these aren’t bad. Deceptively like soft drink, but not too bad.’

The women continued chatting, others joining in along the way.

Dinner had turned out to be a somewhat lavish affair. Aurora had been forbidden to do anything as it was her last evening and she had sat out with the others. At the back of her mind was the worry that tomorrow night at home was going to be very, very quiet in comparison. Trudy and Fiona had prepared all the foods that they knew Aurora loved devils on horseback as appetisers, roast beef with roast onion gravy and super crispy roast potatoes and a triple chocolate mousse cheesecake with layers of white chocolate, milk chocolate and dark chocolate mousse.

Aurora had seconds of the cheesecake, she couldn’t help herself. She sat out with the others, enjoying the flow of conversation and the good natured ribbing until much later than she had expected. Fiona had risen and excused herself, following Arthur who had left earlier. Trudy had already left the group, needing to put the girls to bed as they were already two hours over their bed time. Aurora also made her apologies. She had to be gone straight after breakfast in the morning and she hadn’t yet packed everything. She left the group to a disjointed chorus of voices telling her that they would see her in the morning for breakfast.

She couldn’t quite comprehend that this would be her last night. She had grown accustomed to the routine and rhythm of the days out here. Sure, she was working hard, doing long hours, but it was satisfying. Then there was Cal. She had become used to having him around, working together most days, as well as spending the nights together. There was a comfortable familiarity that had developed. She was worried, however, that it could prove to be a double edged sword. She knew from experience that familiarity bred contempt and she couldn’t get past the niggling thought that if she chose to make her life here with him, that may be where they would end up.

eighteen

G
oodbyes

Aurora would have much rather stayed outside with the others. The late night was going to be a killer for them all in the morning, especially if they kept going for a while, as she suspected that they would. At least she could sleep on the plane in the afternoon if she needed to. She was finding it difficult to muster enough enthusiasm to do what had to be done. With almost mechanical movements she pulled out her suitcase from under the bed and started removing clothes and placing them inside. Each pile made going home more of a reality.

She had left the drawer with the journal
until last. Aurora sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the cover. There was so much about Gran’s early life that she had never known about it seemed. She supposed there was no easy way to tell your granddaughter that not long after you were married you had a brief affair. The pages of the journal though had seemed on one level so far removed from the grandparents that she knew that it was almost like reading fiction. Almost.

Aurora opened the journal at the very back. There, resting against the inside of the cover was the sealed envelope. It had been tucked in there for the last thirty years or so since Will had died.
The writing on the front was unmistakably her grandmother’s, although better formed than the shaky script that she had towards the end of her life. It was addressed to Will Fairley here at Bilgarra Springs and postmarked 1
^st
December 1946. That would have made it around ten months from when Gran had gone home. It was also very clearly unopened.

Aurora picked it up and sat staring at it for a couple of minutes. Every year for as long as she could remember, Gran would send out Christmas cards on the 1
^st
December. She would spend all November getting them ready. This was not a card though as it was too thick for that. Whatever Gran had to say had been waiting for sixty-five years. Aurora still wasn’t sure that she wanted to know what that was.

She was tempted to open it in order to see what the last chapter of their tale was, but the thought of reading someone else’s mail made her feel very much like an interloper. The last entry in the journal didn’t cover what had happened in Townsville. There was a possibility that this would make some reference to that. Aurora kept staring at the envelope.

Fiona had told her that Will had never married, despite the attempts of several young ladies. Fiona had also told her that from the day that Will took Gran to Townsville, the loss had shown in his eyes and had been there until he died, relatively young, at only 59 years. There was still that one piece missing and it looked as though it was literally within her hands to know. All other avenues had been exhausted and it certainly appeared as though she was not going to get any answers any other way.

She turned the envelope over in her hands. Sure enough, her grandmother’s return address at Vaucluse was on the back. The envelope was much yellowed looking but aside from that appeared untouched. Aurora would have expected it to have been a much read, much treasured document if the feelings between the parties had been as strong as she had been led to believe. But then again, if a decision was made that it would go no further, then it would only have been torture to linger over what could have been. She felt disloyal to her grandfather even thinking about what could have been between Gran and Will. Objectively though, the situation was what it was.

Aurora made up her own mind to see what the end to their story was, and carefully tried to open the flap at the back of the envelope. Having been stuck down for over 65 years, it didn’t give easily and the envelope ripped. She only hoped that she hadn’t damaged the letter itself. She pulled it out intact and carefully unfolded it. The first thing she noticed was that the writing was small and crammed up to fit maximum words to each page. She smoothed the paper flat with her hand and began to read.

31 November 1946

My Dearest Will,

Hope this finds you and yours well. I have sent a general Christmas message to all via a card to Fiona but there is so much that I want to say to you. I love you Will. I always will. The month that I spent at Bilgarra Springs was undoubtedly the best time of my life. I found all of you great fun. I liked the horses and working the cattle. I even enjoyed the fencing and other stuff that was just plain hard work. It all made my very pampered existence here seem so pointless. Being seen with the right clothes in the right tea rooms, speaking to the right people, supporting the right charity events, none of it really matters. The women in that circle are for the most part empty headed, too caught up in fashion and accessorising. They really contribute nothing. Whilst society thinks that my only job is to look pretty and be the loving supportive wife, I now know that I am capable of so much more than that, but there is no outlet for any of the skills that I have acquired and am so proud of. Charles doesn’t understand. He thought that I was in need of medical attention when I insisted that I did not want a cook or housekeeper. He does not, and more to the point, does not want to, understand how I feel. I have been shunning our social scene to a degree and the gossip has started as to why. I do not care what they say. The more that I am ostracised the less I will feel obliged to take part. I know that life for you all there is not easy, what with the backbreaking work and long days and so remote from all the conveniences that we take for granted. It has not been easy for me here either, in a different sense. My time out there changed me changed who I am. Charles has sensed that I am no longer the woman that he married, but he struggles to comprehend the strong-willed opposition that I am now showing to things that used to delight me. He thought that he would give me a pleasant surprise and bought tickets to the theatre. It was a translated version of one of Molière’s works Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme. The theatre crowd were uproarious in their laughter without realising that the play is a satire of their very lifestyle. The play was naturally funny, but I found their lack of comprehension incredibly sad and wanted to jump to my feet and shout out that he is referring to them, to their lifestyle. Naturally I did not but Charles noticed my displeasure and we argued once we returned home. He is frustrated that no matter how hard he tries, he cannot seem to get it right. His mother thinks that it is my (so far) unfulfilled need for a child that has led me to be contrary. Her attitude is quite patronising and I am finding it difficult to show her the respect required. Charles and I have been at loggerheads for the past ten months since I returned home. Initially he thought it was petulance on my part over not having a full honeymoon. That gave way to me supposedly having trouble adapting to married life, especially as I refuse to have help of any kind. Now he may very well be thinking that his mother is correct. He keeps raising the subject of children as if it is something that should have happened as soon as we were married. I feel that he thinks that it reflects badly on him that we have not conceived yet. I thank God every day that it has not happened so far. I am even taking herbal preparations to try and prevent it from happening. Charles does not know and it is most dishonest of me to keep it from him but I could not bear it at the moment. Will, I know that we made a decision not to take what is between us any further but I find that I miss you more as each day passes. I wonder if the choice that we made was the right to choice to make. Neither option was going to be easy, but I find that no matter how hard I try, I cannot settle into this life that I have here. I love you Will. I miss you dearly. I realise that you did the honourable thing by not pursuing another man’s wife, but Will, cannot we break the rules just this once? I know that I should not want to leave the man that I stood before God and our friends and promised to love until death do us part, but the separation from you is too hard. I still feel like something vital is gone and I talk to you so much in my head that I said your name as Charles entered the room. Luckily I could salvage the situation and ‘Will’ became ‘Will ...you please give me a hand to set the table.’ I did not really need a hand but it was the first thing that came to mind. Charles scowled at me. I hope it was because he does not like to have to do menial work in his own home and not because he recognised my slip. It is so hard Will. Please, please write to me and tell me that we can sort this out. A divorce would be out of the question I know, so we could never be legally married, which I know is a big ask, but our love is strong enough to overcome that, and nobody would know out there except for the family, and they, I hope, would understand the circumstances. Please Will, please let me know that you will come for me.

Waiting desperately for you,

All my love,

Isabella.

Xx

Aurora wiped away the tears that were silently slipping down her cheeks. Will never knew. He never knew that Gran had changed her mind. They had never had the chance to see what could have been. Aurora felt incredibly torn though. She had loved her grandfather. He had been a wonderful man, nothing like the picture that Gran’s journal and the letter had painted. He had also been much older when she had come to live with them and maybe that explained it.

On one level she could understand her grandfather’s confusion. It can’t have been easy for either of them. With the benefit of history, Aurora knew that her mother had been born at the end of 1948 and had been an only child. Gran had miscarried one in 1950 and there had been no more pregnancies. She quickly did the math and it had taken roughly fifteen months after the date of the letter before her mother had been conceived. She couldn’t help but wonder how long her grandmother had waited for Will. A year of waiting by the mailbox everyday or waiting for someone to arrive would have been torture. Aurora wondered at which point her grandmother had realised that Will wasn’t going to write or arrive.

Aurora was torn between sadness that the young dreams had been dashed and relief that the marriage between her grandparents had survived. She knew that it had ended up being a happy marriage and that they had loved each other. At some point her grandmother must have resigned herself to the fact that there was to be no life with Will and had simply moved on with things. Maybe, just maybe there was always that small spot of loss in Gran over the way things had turned out, similar to that within Will.

Aurora would never know if that was the case and maybe that was a good thing. One thing that she did know was that if Will had opened this letter then there may have been a number of different choices made. She swiped at a final tear, ran her fingers along her jeans, to dry them off, folded the pages back up and returned the letter to the envelope.

Aurora’s hand with the letter in it stopped mid-air. She didn’t want to return the letter to the back of the journal
.
Instead, she flicked through the pages until she reached the last entry. As she did so a small and somewhat yellowed dried flower popped out. Aurora gently picked it up. It was a pressed Jacaranda flower. It was very pale, yellowed and crinkly, but unmistakably a Jacaranda. She had pressed them herself as a child. The tree in the yard at Vaucluse had borne many millions of them over her lifetime. She smiled as she remembered lying in the purple carpet as a very young girl pretending that she was a princess.

She gently put the letter and the pressed flower in between the pages where the next entry of the journal would have gone and closed the book. After all this time their tale deserved an ending. She again ran her fingers over the lettering on the cover, wondering if now, in death, they had finally found one another. Again she felt that pang of disloyalty to her grandfather and sighed. She hoped that Cal stayed outside for a while longer so that she could get herself well and truly back together before he joined her. Her emotions had been churned by the letter, and as sad as it was, at the moment she had her own goodbyes to worry about.