Freedom's Land (15 page)

The men arrived with the body.

Flo stood up and directed them where to lay it, then stood staring down at her husband. ‘He looks peaceful. I don’t think he suffered. I’m glad of that.’

‘We’ll have to take him to Pemberton tomorrow to bury him,’ Gil said. ‘There’s not a cemetery in Northcliffe yet. I’ll borrow a truck.’

She nodded, regal as any queen. ‘Thanks. I’ll go on from there after the funeral. I’ll have to sell some of this stuff before I go.’ She gestured round at their meagre possessions. ‘Think anyone would want them?’

‘I’ll arrange a quick sale.’

As he walked away he marvelled at her. They said men were stronger, but he reckoned some women were just as strong in their own way.

The death cast a blight over the whole camp, with people talking in subdued voices. Andrew took up a collection for the widow. People who had almost nothing gave what they could, even if it was only a few pennies.

Later Gil conducted an auction of the larger possessions Flo couldn’t carry up to Perth with her. There wasn’t a lot to sell and she said there was no more stuff coming out. The sale made enough to pay her and her son’s fares to Perth and her meagre savings would keep them till they found jobs, at least she hoped they would.

Gil gave her some advice and suggested she go to his cousin Nelly in Fremantle first, writing her a letter of introduction. Nelly often took in waifs and strays and if she had no room for them herself, she’d find someone who had.

He drove Flo and her son to Pemberton the next morning. The body was cursorily examined by the doctor, officially pronounced dead and a death certificate issued.

The widow looked down at the piece of paper, stony-faced. ‘I don’t need this to know he’s gone.’ Her voice wobbled on the last words, then she pressed her lips together and put it in her handbag.

Gil left her in the care of a woman he knew, a motherly soul who always had room for someone in trouble. While he was in town, he posted letters for members of the group, picked up some more letters for them, did some shopping and finally went to enquire at the station about their heavy boxes and crates, which should have been delivered by now. He found the boxes himself, clearly labelled, sitting in a big pile to one side of the station yard.

‘No one’s been authorised to take them into Northcliffe,’ the stationmaster said in answer to his query.

‘You must have realised we needed them.’

‘They usually send word and then I organise it.’

‘I’ll find someone to do it.’

‘Who’s to pay? And anyway, I can’t let you have them without authorisation.’

Gil leaned forward and said loudly and clearly, ‘Are you really going to try to stop me from taking them to their owners, folk who need them desperately?’

The man muttered something and turned away.

Gil found a couple of fellows to help him load as many of the boxes as possible on the truck, then slept beside it. He didn’t think anyone would steal them, but he wasn’t taking any chances. The weather was still warm enough that this was no hardship, but the nights would be cooling down soon. March was the first month of autumn, after all.

Ernest was buried first thing the next morning and Gil attended as a matter of courtesy, though he was itching to set off back.

The widow was dry-eyed and still had that grim, determined look to her.

She came and shook Gil’s hand when it was over. ‘Thank you for your help, Mr Matthews.’

‘Will you be all right, Flo?’

‘I shall have to be, shan’t I? I’ve had to find jobs before when Ernest was ill, and I dare say it won’t be very different here. I’m a good worker and I usually manage.’

Brave woman, he thought again as he drove the heavily laden truck home.

He couldn’t forget her courage and it occurred to him very forcibly that he hadn’t been as brave as her about losing his wife. He’d wallowed in his grief. For years. Maybe it was the aftermath of the war too. He’d hated all the killing. It’d left him with an ache inside him, somehow, stupid as that sounded.

It was a long drive back and all the time his thoughts went round and round, but they always came back to the group settlement scheme. He hadn’t expected to feel so much a part of it, so determined to make it succeed. Now, he realised in surprise, he was committed to staying in Northcliffe and making a new life for himself. But to do that properly, he needed a wife to help him run the farm he would create with the sweat of his own brow.

He pushed that thought hastily aside. It was the first time he’d seriously contemplated remarrying, though God knew there were enough spare women around after all the wartime losses, and more than one had shown him she wouldn’t be averse to his attentions.

Thinking of marriage brought back painful memories of Mabel. It also made him smile. She’d have told him to find another wife, for heaven’s sake and stop shilly-shallying about. Nothing if not practical, his Mabel.

And he hadn’t had the urge to drink himself senseless since he’d come here, not the slightest flicker of it. That was good – wasn’t it?

They’d have to get a cemetery authorised in Northcliffe and the sooner the better. Others would die and it was a long way to go to bury your dead. There wasn’t much in the new town at the moment, though people were starting to come in. Some would fail and leave, but others would stay.

He drove through Northcliffe, idly noting the progress on one of the new buildings in the town centre.

When the rough camp came into view, it felt as if he was coming home. Some of the groupies still ate together there, others preferred to cook their own food and eat as a family.

He had to swallow hard because he got a lump in his throat at the mere sight of Irene laughing at something Norah said. Andrew went up to join them, and when Janie saw it she pushed between him and his wife. That lass did cling to her mother. She made her feelings about the marriage all too plain. You couldn’t help noticing it.

His eyes lingered on Irene. The sunlight made her red hair gleam like fire. He wondered idly if it’d be warm to the touch. Her laughter pealed out suddenly as Norah said something else. He loved to hear that laugh.

Somehow he had to help make this place feel like home to all these Poms, as well. They hardly knew one end of a cow from the other, but had bravely travelled to the other side of the world to set up dairy farms.

And he was going to make it all work
in spite of
the bungling in Perth. He was thankful that someone up there knew his job every time a consignment of supplies came through safely, but he never relied on them, didn’t dare.

After the meal was over, Gil gathered the adults together and told them the bad news that he’d been keeping to himself. ‘They’re sending the rest of the families in this group down here in two days’ time. They’ve not sent any more humpies, though, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to share your humpies.’

There were murmurs of disappointment, groans, even the odd curse, though the men didn’t usually swear in front of the women.

‘I can let you have the tents again if you want to put the children in those, or sleep in them yourselves, but there will be more than two families in each. We’re in autumn now, so we’ll have to have them all under cover. When it starts to rain, the tents won’t be very pleasant to live in. We just have to hope they’ll send us the materials for the rest of the humpies before then.’

He didn’t dare hope that they’d send men to build the proper farmhouses yet. They weren’t the only group starting up and they were the one some idiot in Perth had added as an afterthought, without making proper provision for them, so he’d guess they came last on every list.

He turned away, then swung back as something occurred to him. ‘I need a volunteer either to drive my horse and cart into Northcliffe or the truck, which I have to return.’

Andrew raised one hand. ‘I could drive the truck.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Susan said at once. ‘There are things I need to buy.’

There were angry mutters at this.

‘Any other women like to go into town?’ Gil asked.

Every single one put up her hand.

‘We’ll draw lots, then. It’s the only fair way.’

‘But I spoke first!’ Susan yelled, her voice even shriller than usual.

Gil glared at her. ‘We do things in the fairest way we know in this group.’

But when they drew lots and he pulled out the winning number, it was Susan’s, to his annoyance. For a minute he debated pretending it was someone else’s, but by then Pete had peered over his shoulder and called out the number.

Susan smirked at him, ignoring the way the other woman scowled at her.

‘You’d better get a list of what other people want buying,’ Gil said curtly. ‘Anyone going into town will have to do the shopping for the rest.’

She shrugged. ‘All right.’

The other women gave her their lists and money, some of it wrapped in bits of rag. Two women shook their heads when Gil asked them if they wanted anything buying.

‘Can’t afford it.’

‘Got to watch the pennies.’

He nodded sympathetically. These families hadn’t turned up their noses at his possum stew, as some had. They ate anything put before them and glad of it.

‘We’ll be leaving at eight o’clock in the morning,’ he warned Susan. ‘If you’re not ready on time, I shall leave without you.’

‘I’ll be ready, don’t worry.’

The following morning she was waiting next to the table they all sat round and on which the women prepared food. It was made from some of the smaller trees they’d felled, rough-hewn in two, and then fixed to pieces of trunk he and Pete had dug into the ground. They’d planed the cut sides as best they could, but it wasn’t a smooth surface by any means.

He gestured to the truck. ‘There you are, Andrew. I’ll take old Daisy here and we’ll come at her speed.’

‘Can I go in the truck?’ Susan asked at once. ‘I’ve a lot of things to buy.’

Gil looked at Andrew, who shrugged. ‘If you want. You’ll be riding home in the back of the cart, though, so I don’t know why you’re dressed so fancily.’

‘I like to look my best when I go out.’

She might think she looked good with her hair frizzed like that, but Gil thought she looked like one of those women who hung around in pubs looking for a fellow and possibly even charging money for her favours. And why was she wearing a coat when it was pleasantly warm today? It wasn’t flattering, made her look fatter. And what did she have in that bag of hers? It didn’t look empty to him.

Argh, what was he doing thinking about her? He had far better things to occupy his mind with.

He watched Andrew drive off, noting how capably he drove the truck.

When Daisy clopped into Northcliffe Gil shook his head. Call this a street! It would be a mud patch in winter unless they put in some better drainage. The horse came to a halt in front of the store without needing to be told. There was a motor car parked to one side and he wondered who was visiting.

Andrew came out to greet him. ‘I’ve returned the truck to its owner and made my family’s purchases. If you don’t need any help, I’d just like to see how exactly they’re building that house. I’ve no experience of weatherboard and if our houses are going to be built of it, I’d like to see how it’s done. Give me a yell if you need me.’

Gil nodded and watched for a moment or two as Andrew started chatting to a man working on a new weatherboard house on one of the town blocks that had been sold recently. Someone had made a quick start on building. He admired the way Andrew always tried to learn new skills, wished all the groupies were like him.

Of Susan there was no sign.

Gil put a nosebag on his horse and went inside the store. As he started giving his order, he looked round again for Susan, because this was the only place she could be, surely? There was the sound of voices from the rear and he walked in that direction, stopping when he saw her standing outside chatting to a stranger, presumably the owner of the small motor car that was parked nearby.

Indignation rose hotly in him. She was flirting, had opened her coat and laid a hand on one hip, posing to show off her figure. The man was smiling down at her, openly eyeing the curve of her breasts.

‘Can’t abide married women who flirt,’ Gil muttered.

‘Did you say something?’ the shopkeeper asked as he stood a 150-pound sack of flour next to the counter, and added a 72-pound bag of sugar, then a wooden packing case of the huge tins of jam and another of tins of corned beef, followed by a sack of onions.

‘No. Just thinking aloud.’ Gil turned back to finish his order. ‘Did
she
put in her orders?’ he asked, gesturing to the couple still talking outside.

‘Yes. I’ve got everything ready over there. She hasn’t paid me yet, too busy giving
him
the glad eye. He only came to see if there was any way to make money out of us, but when he saw that the town hadn’t really got going yet, he said he’d changed his mind and would come back in a year or two. He’d be long gone if he hadn’t met her. I doubt we’ll ever see him again. He’s a townie, that one, not the sort to settle in a place that needs work to make it worthwhile.’

‘I can see that.’

‘I’ll give you a hand to load these on the cart.’ The storekeeper laughed. ‘I don’t mind
you
not paying me till afterwards. You’re hardly likely to run out on me, are you?’

‘You think not?’

‘Nah. I can tell the ones who’re going to stay by now – well usually. There are one or two who surprise you, but mostly it’s obvious.’

There were a lot of tins of food. Gil hadn’t realised how much the women would be ordering and began to worry about the weight.

‘That poor old horse of yours is going to be tired out by the time you get back.’

‘We’ll walk beside her going back.’ Gil slapped Daisy’s side affectionately then frowned as he remembered Susan’s unsuitable shoes. He hoped she’d bought or ordered some more sensible ones. As he picked up the first crate of goods, he heard the stranger’s car start up and drive off and thought good riddance to that sleazy fellow.