Freedom's Land (32 page)

He hoped she wouldn’t take too long to give him her answer, though. It was agony waiting.

Irene woke feeling disoriented. She realised she was in Freddie’s bed and her heart stabbed with unhappiness when she remembered why.

She suddenly remembered Gil’s offer, and the way Norah had refused to give him her answer.
No
. That’s what the answer would be. She couldn’t possibly marry him or anyone while she was carrying Freddie’s child, grieving for her husband.

She got up and found that the cows had been milked and a bucket of clean water set ready in the lean-to. That made her sigh. What a kind man Gil was! She didn’t want to hurt him, must tell him very gently.

She made some porridge, smiling at the memory of Janie’s lumpy offering. Everyone was being so kind to her, so very kind.

After breakfast she felt like lying down again, but didn’t let herself. Instead she decided to sort out the money and count it carefully. She opened the leather pouch which contained their savings and looked at it aghast. There was hardly anything left. Where had all their money gone?

The answer was obvious, but she didn’t let it come to the forefront of her mind for a few minutes, just shut the leather pouch, stroking the gold initials on it, then opening it again. Freddie must have spent the money on drink. That was the only way twenty pounds could have gone down to a meagre three pounds seven shillings and twopence. How could he have done that?

She didn’t weep because she was too upset for that. Instead she searched through every item they possessed. Her mother had given her two pounds, ‘just for a rainy day’. She’d kept it in a little pouch embroidered for her by one of her sisters. That money was gone, too. She had the remains of her housekeeping money, five shillings and threepence ha’penny. In all, that made three pounds twelve shillings and fivepence ha’penny. She’d not last long on that. And she had no family to turn to for help here. Cold fear shivered through her and settled in her belly.

Unless she married Gil.

No. Fear wasn’t a reason to marry someone, no one should do that to a decent man. She didn’t love Gil, hardly knew him. She had loved Freddie, faults and all.

Hadn’t she?

But it seemed she hadn’t known him as she thought she had and as if her love had faded.

She made piles of the coins, arranging and rearranging them, doing the same to her thoughts. But it always led her to the same conclusion.

She couldn’t do it, just – couldn’t marry anyone. Not even Gil.

Later that day, Norah went across to see her friend, making Janie unhappy by refusing to let her go too. The boys had gone off with their father today. She worried that they weren’t getting any schooling, but they loved helping the men and Andrew said a few months without lessons wouldn’t hurt them.

She was a bit worried about leaving her daughter alone in the humpy. But she was only a short walk away and would be back within the hour. Before she left, she gave Janie some chores to do, hardening her heart to the hurt look on her daughter’s face at being left behind.

It looked like rain again, so Norah took her umbrella, hurrying along the faint path that made a shortcut between the two properties.

She found Irene standing by one of the beds looking down at a pile of Freddie’s clothing.

‘Do you think people would buy these from me?’ she asked.

‘Some might take a piece or two. But people haven’t got a lot of money to spare for clothes at the moment, you know.’

‘Perhaps I could sell them in Perth, then. I shall have to look for a job there, because there’s nothing here.’ Irene brushed away a tear impatiently, then told her friend about the missing money.

Norah hugged her. ‘I don’t know what to say. I think we could lend you a pound, but that’s all. We had to use some of our savings while Andrew was unable to work, and we have to think of the children.’

‘Thank you, but I’d not take it. I shall manage somehow. I think my baby will have more chance of making a good life for itself here in Australia, don’t you? Isn’t that why you and Andrew brought your children here?’

‘Yes. But who can ever be sure? I love the outdoor life we lead here. I even like milking the cows.’

Irene nodded slowly. ‘I do too. I’ll miss them.’

‘You’re going to tell Gil no, aren’t you?’

Silence.

‘Irene?’

She shrugged then nodded.

‘Only you can decide that. But I like him and so does Andrew. He’s a good man, would stand by you through thick and thin.’ She looked out as the rain grew heavier. ‘It seems to be setting in. Gil says it’ll soon be spring and then the rain will mostly stop until next winter. Remember the lovely warm weather when we first arrived?’

‘Yes. I really enjoyed it.’

Irene sat on after her friend had left, lost in thought. She too loved the warmth. You never got days and days of sun in Lancashire. The air was never sparkling clear there, either. Maybe that was why she’d had a bad chest, the dirty air. She remembered struggling for breath, thinking she wasn’t going to live.

That was one decision made, at least. Two, if you counted Gil. She straightened her shoulders and began packing. She had to be strong now, for the baby’s sake.

20

J
anie watched her mother go striding across to Auntie Irene’s house and kicked the leg of the table as she stared at the pile of potatoes. It was all she ever seemed to do, peel potatoes, fetch water, make porridge.

She went to feed the hens first. Her lame little hen came over to peck some grains from her hand. She picked Fluffy up and stroked her. The hen made a soft noise and nestled against her, seeming more interested in cuddling Janie than in eating. Well, the mash they boiled up every couple of days from potato peelings and other scraps smelled horrid, but the hens seemed to love it.

When she set Fluffy down, the hen stayed near her feet so instead of putting her pet back into the chook pen, she left her outside, scooping up some of the mash and putting it back into the bucket to save for Fluffy. This creature loved her and showed it. No one else did.

She went back to the house, with Fluffy trailing behind her and set down the bucket of mash next to the outside table. They did their chores here when it was fine. By the time Janie had finished peeling the potatoes her hands were stiff with cold and she had run out of clean water. They never left her enough water. It wasn’t fair!

Picking up the bucket, she took it across to the well, hanging it on the big hook and letting it down into the water at the bottom. When she wound it up, it was too full for her to carry, so she leaned over the top of the well to tip some out. Of course it splashed down her front and that made her even colder.

As she walked slowly back to the humpy, a gust of cold wind blew raindrops in her face. She glanced up at the sky, where the clouds were so low they seemed almost to touch the treetops. More rain coming.

Setting the bucket of clean water on the low shelf in the lean-to, she looked round for Fluffy. There was no sign of the little hen, so she went outside again, making the soft clucking noises that usually brought her pet to her side. Only this time they didn’t.

Janie looked further away but could see no sign of the hen, so walked all round the humpy searching. From the rear she saw a movement in the distance. Even as she watched, Fluffy disappeared into the bush, no mistaking that it was her, because she walked so lopsidedly.

‘Come back!’ she called, but the hen didn’t reappear. She ran towards the place she’d seen Fluffy vanish, forgetting to look where she was going. Suddenly her feet slid from under her and she went flat on her backside in a patch of mud.

She began to cry but got up and ran on. Her mum would be furious at her if she lost one of the hens.

When she got among the trees, Janie saw her pet walking away from her, so ran on, calling out.

But Fluffy ran here and there, refusing to come to her, and could duck under bushes, while Janie sometimes had to go the long way round.

Suddenly she couldn’t find Fluffy at all. She stopped, looking carefully round, but there was no sign of her. Shivering now, she turned to go back.

It wasn’t long before she realised she was lost and stopped in bewilderment. How was that possible? She hadn’t come very far into the woods. But though she went this way and that, she couldn’t find her way out. Everything looked alike.

It was raining hard now and her hair was plastered to her head, her clothing heavy with water and her feet squelching in her boots. She huddled against a big tree, sheltered a little from the rain, unable to think what to do.

She was going to die here, catch her death of cold like Mr Dawson had and die.

When Norah got back she found a pan of peeled potatoes standing out in the rain, but no sign of her daughter. She went to check the latrine, which now had a proper wooden seat and pan, with a little corrugated shelter over it, thanks to Andrew’s hard work. But no one was there.

She cupped her hands round her mouth and called out as loudly as she could,‘Janie! Where are you?’After waiting a minute, she shouted again, ‘Janie, come back here this minute!’

But there was still no answer.

What could have happened to the child? Could she have run away? No, of course not. Janie didn’t like the bush and always stayed close to the house and her mother. And anyway, her coat was hanging on its usual hook, so she couldn’t have gone far.

Norah did another quick tour of all the outhouses and as she was walking back, she saw Fluffy coming towards her from the bush behind the house, clucking softly. ‘How did you get out?’ She scooped up the little hen and put her back into the pen, shutting the gate firmly.

Could Janie have gone across to see Irene by another route? She must have. It was the only explanation. Sighing, Norah picked up Janie’s coat and the umbrella, then walked as quickly as she could to her friend’s house.

‘Is Janie here?’

‘No. I’ve not seen her today.’

‘She’s not at home and I can’t think where she can be because her coat is still on the hook. I thought – hoped she’d be here.’

Irene reached for her own coat. ‘I’ll come and help you look.’

The two women walked back to the Boyds’ block just as the boys came into sight.

‘Dad sent us home early,’ Ned called out. ‘Can I have a cup of tea. I’m frozen cold and—’

‘Have you seen Janie?’ Norah interrupted.

‘Course not. She stayed at home with you. None of the girls work with us men.’

‘She’s missing.’

Jack shushed his brother. ‘How long has she been gone, Mum?’

‘I was only away for an hour, and I’ve been searching for her for about an hour since I got back. I can’t think where she can be. She didn’t even take her coat.’

Jack, who’d been listening to Pete’s tracking tales, walked all round the humpy studying the ground.

When he called out, Norah thought he’d found Janie and went running, disappointment flooding through her as she found him standing beside a muddy puddle. He pointed to the ground and there, half obliterated by the rain, were a child’s footprints, one very distinct handprint and some slide marks.

‘I think she fell over here,’ he said. ‘And if so, she was going in that direction.’

They all stared down at the marks and his ideas did make sense.

Norah went towards the bush, which wasn’t far away at this side of the block.

Jack came to pull her back. ‘Don’t go in there, Mum. We don’t want you getting lost as well.’

‘But why would she have gone away from the house?’ She suddenly remembered Fluffy. ‘Oh, no! She can’t have been so stupid.’ She explained about the hen wandering around loose.

Jack looked longingly into the bush, but he’d heard too many tales of people getting lost. ‘I’ll go and fetch Dad and Pete. We’d better not go after her.’

‘We could cooee,’ Ned suggested.

‘You and Mum do that. I’m going for Dad. Better go back indoors, Mum. You and Mrs Dawson are soaking wet.’

Norah was impressed by the sheer sense of what Jack was saying. Her older stepson was very like his father, practical and dependable. She watched him run off towards the track then she and Ned started to cooee. But there was no answer.

Remembering Irene’s condition, she shepherded the others inside, going into the lean-to to get the fire burning up and set the kettle on to boil. A hot drink never went amiss.

Then she found a towel and they all rubbed their hair a bit to stop it dripping down their necks.

‘It’s no use changing our clothes,’ Ned said with relish. ‘We’ll have to go out again with the search party to find her.’

‘You’re going nowhere, my lad.’ In spite of his protests, she took him into the children’s half of the humpy and got him out of his soggy garments and into dry clothes. By that time Irene had got them all cups of hot cocoa, which shut him up for a while longer.

‘Perhaps she’ll come walking in of her own accord before they get back,’ Irene said. But her voice was uncertain.

Norah shook her head. ‘If she was close by, she’d have come inside already on such a cold, rainy day. I’m worried sick to think of her out there without a coat.’

After that, they didn’t say much, just sipped their tea and waited for the men to come.

Jack was so out of breath when he found his father that it took him a minute to explain what had happened.

Andrew immediately called Gil over. ‘Janie’s missing.’

‘Pete’s the best tracker. You get back to Norah. I’ll find him and we’ll follow you as quickly as we can. We need to start our search before it gets dark.’ He put two fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle, then gesticulated vigorously to a group of figures a few hundred yards away.

He looked up at the leaden sky, shaking his head in dismay. No let-up in the rain.