Going Home (35 page)

‘And now you can,’ he assured her. ‘If you still want to.’

‘I need time,’ she murmured. ‘Time to consider.’

‘All the time in the world,’ he insisted. ‘There is no hurry.’

Except that time was moving on ever faster and the day was almost on them when Jack and Phoebe would be going home; and the question was, would he return with them?

They turned back as the afternoon drew on, clouds drifting across the low sun. He told her of his life at home in Australia, of the sheep station and of the sheep shearers who in their hundreds rode or walked across the country to shear the millions of sheep which supplied the wool that was sent to England to keep the hungry mills turning.

He told her of the ridge of Blue Mountains which he could see from his window, yet which was inaccessible, except to the Aborigines, and of the birds which Roger would see: the scarlet honeyeater, the red wattlebird with its yellow belly and harsh cry, the dainty fairy-wren, the golden whistlers and coloured finches, the cockatiels and parrots and thousands of budgerigars.

‘Roger will love it,’ Amelia said. ‘He is so looking forward to going.’

‘Look, Amelia.’ May caught her sister’s attention as they entered the drive to the house. ‘That’s Dr Fowler’s carriage. Why would he be here?’

Lily appeared at the door and started to run towards them, her skirts flying, waving her arms at them.

‘Oh, Amelia! Thank goodness you’re here. Come quickly. Uncle Sam has been taken ill! Roger had to ride like the wind to fetch Dr Fowler and everyone is so distraught, especially Deborah who won’t leave Uncle Sam’s side!’

‘Don’t be so dramatic, Lily!’ May admonished her sister for her emotional manner.

‘What has happened, Lily? Calm down and speak slowly.’ Amelia was more disturbed than she appeared. Uncle Sam was never ill. He had the constitution of an ox, though he had seemed quiet lately after Roger had broken the news to him that he was going away.

‘I don’t know what happened, except that it took four men to carry him into the house.’ Lily’s face started to crumple. ‘He’s not going to die is he, Amelia? I couldn’t bear it if he did.’

It would be unthinkable. Amelia suddenly felt faint; she had never faced death and Sam was such an integral part of their lives. They had ridden on his broad back when they were small, he had shown them where to gather the best mushrooms, and where there was frogspawn and
tiddlers, and he’d allowed them to watch a foal being born, but most of all he took care of Aunt Mary and his half-sister, Deborah, who couldn’t look after herself.

She felt Ralph’s hand on her elbow and he helped her down from the trap. ‘It may be nothing much,’ he murmured soothingly. ‘Perhaps a fall, he’s a big man, he’d fall heavy. Try not to worry.’

‘No,’ she breathed, clutching his arm. ‘Thank you.’

But it wasn’t a fall. The door was opened as they approached: Mrs Linton was thanking the doctor as she saw him out. Her face was pale and her eyes were large with unshed tears.

‘Sam has suffered a seizure,’ she said in a low voice. ‘The men brought him in. Roger is with him and is so upset. He says it is all his fault.’ Her tears started to fall and she brushed them away. ‘Sam has been like a brother to me since I was five years old,’ she choked, ‘and now he is lying so still and helpless.’

‘But – Mama! He isn’t – ?’ Amelia couldn’t bring herself to say the dreaded word.

Her mother shook her head. ‘He is still with us. The doctor says he might pull through as he is so strong.’

‘He will! He will!’ Amelia exclaimed. ‘He must.’

‘Why does Roger say it is his fault, Mrs Linton?’ Ralph asked quietly. ‘Was he with him when it happened?’

‘No.’ Mrs Linton took out a handkerchief and dried her eyes. ‘Sam was helping one of the men to bring down a dead tree when apparently he collapsed. They brought him home and Roger rode for the doctor.’

Amelia put her hand up to her mouth and tried to quell her own emotion. Roger had confided in her that Sam was upset about him going away, even though he had assured him that he would come back. Roger is feeling guilty, she pondered, and thinks that the worry has brought on Sam’s seizure. Poor Roger, she thought. He won’t want to go away now.

Amelia slowly pushed open the sick-room door. Roger and Deborah were by Sam’s bedside. Aunt Mary, Sam’s mother, had gone to lie down.

‘Deborah,’ Amelia whispered. ‘Mama says will you come now and take some tea? I’ll sit with Sam for a little while so that you might rest.’

Deborah shook her head but didn’t answer. She held Sam’s hand and constantly stroked his fingers.

‘She won’t leave him,’ Roger said quietly. ‘She says she’s going to look after him until he’s better.’

He reached for a handkerchief in his pocket and blew his nose vigorously. ‘This is my fault, Amelia. My talk of going away has preyed on his mind.’

‘Nonsense,’ she whispered tearfully. ‘You mustn’t say such things.’

‘It’s true.’ Roger turned towards the bed where Sam was lying so still and pale. ‘I was being totally selfish anyway, leaving him and Mama to cope.’

‘We have a steward and good men,’ Amelia began.

‘But they can’t make decisions can they?’ There was disappointment in his voice and a hint of bitterness. ‘And neither can Sam. We know that, even though we have always reckoned that he did.’

Amelia nodded. Sam was not aware of his shortcomings. He knew instinctively about farming, but times were changing, machines were coming in, foreign grain was flooding the market and no longer was farming localized. And Sam wanted to continue to farm in the way he had been taught as a boy.

‘I won’t go now,’ Roger said, his eyes on Sam. ‘I can’t possibly,’ and Amelia nodded again in agreement. Of course he couldn’t. She would feel exactly the same.

Deborah stayed by Sam’s side. A truckle bed was brought into the room so that she might rest, but she spent most of the time sitting or kneeling at the side of his bed. This child-woman who had been cared for by Sam, now cared for him. She mopped his brow, trickled water through his lips and only left the room for calls of nature or when the nurse required to attend to Sam’s personal needs.

And when Sam opened his eyes and made his
first murmurings, Deborah was there to hear them and ran to fetch the nurse. ‘You see,’ she said. ‘I said that I would make him better, and I did.’

His speech was slurred and his left arm hung uselessly by his side, but the doctor was convinced that he would recover well. ‘You must take things a little easier, Sam,’ he admonished him. ‘Let some of these other fine young men do the heavy work. You do the advising; but not yet. You must rest now and get your strength back.’

Ralph caught his aunt alone in her study. ‘Aunt Emily, can I speak to you?’

She was sitting at her desk in the window. A ledger was open in front of her. ‘Of course,’ she said, and smiled a little uncertainly. ‘Are you coming to tell me that you are taking my daughter away with you?’

He shook his head. ‘Amelia and I haven’t had a chance to talk since Sam was taken ill. It didn’t seem appropriate. But it was of Sam and Roger that I wanted to speak.’

‘Roger says that he won’t go back with Jack and Phoebe now. That he will go at some other time. But of course he won’t. This will be an opportunity that is passed over. Poor Roger,’ she sighed softly. ‘It was what he wanted more than anything.’

‘Then he should go,’ Ralph said. ‘And I will stay in his place.’

‘You will?’ she said in astonishment. ‘But what
will Joe—your father say? He will surely want you back!’

‘Well that’s just it, Aunt Emily. Da likes to manage on his own, he never wants me to take the reins. He likes to always be in charge, and I do understand that now, although I didn’t before. Da isn’t ready to hand over to me, not yet, but he would enjoy showing Roger how the sheep station is run.’ He grinned, ‘And telling him of how he pulled himself up from the stain of being a convict.’

‘Yes,’ his aunt agreed. ‘He’s very proud of that, and rightly so. He wouldn’t have had the same opportunities in England. But I don’t think Roger would agree,’ she added. ‘He won’t want to leave Sam.’

‘I know that I haven’t the experience of farming in England,’ Ralph persisted. ‘But the seasons are not so harsh here as in Australia and with Sam to advise me, when he’s feeling better, I’m sure I can manage.’ He hesitated. ‘Also, Aunt Emily, I do observe as an outsider, and it seems to me that in order to continue successfully you need to take advantage of more modern methods.’

‘I know,’ she answered. ‘But Sam won’t hear of it and Roger won’t go against him.’

‘But Sam might listen to me,’ he insisted. ‘If I tell him of what is happening in other countries, and that they are sending in natural food products to England much cheaper than England can produce at the present time, then
he might agree to change. He thinks of Roger still as a boy,’ he said gently. ‘He won’t think of me in the same way.’

But Sam had ideas of his own. He asked for Roger to come in at the end of one day, and asked Deborah to leave them for a little while. His voice was halting and his speech was slow, but he appeared to have more energy and was propped up on his pillows.

‘You look quite perky, Uncle Sam.’ Roger sat on the end of the bed. ‘Much better than you were yesterday.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘I am. But I wanted to ask thee about ’oats. How long have I been abed?’

Roger gave a grin. He knew what was coming. Sam knew his oats and always supervised their harvesting. ‘Two weeks, Sam.’

‘Ah!’ Sam sighed and looked thoughtful. ‘So we’ve not heard third
choch
bell?’

‘No. Not yet.’

‘’Cos tha remembers, doesn’t tha, how ’old saying goes?’

‘Aye, I do,’ Roger answered, and said in unison with Sam, ‘Tha mun hear
choch
bells ring three times on Sunday afore stooks are lifted into ’stack.’

‘I’ll make sure we lift the stooks after next Sunday, don’t worry. They’re almost ready.’

‘’Stalks not too green?’ Sam asked anxiously. ‘They’ll fire if they are.’

‘They’re coming along fine. I promise.’

Sam took a deep breath. ‘Aye. Tha’s a good
lad and I mun tell thee summat. I want that tha should go to Australia. We’ll manage here all right once I’m up and about.’

‘No,’ Roger said firmly. ‘It was a crazy idea in any case. There’s too much to do here.’

Sam shook his head. ‘It would be good for thee to go. Your ma would like that, especially for thee to see her brother Joe.’ He rubbed the side of his face as if it ached. ‘And I reckon that yon young fella, Ralph, might stop here for a bit. He seems a mite sweet on our Amelia.’

‘He is,’ Roger agreed. ‘He wants to marry her.’

‘Well, there we are then.’ Sam put his head back on the pillow. He seemed tired after all the talking. ‘He’s a clever young chap. He can help out. I’ll show him. He’ll soon get ‘hang o’ things.’

MRS BOYLE CONFIDED
to her hostess that she had decided to return to Australia after all.

‘It will be hard for you to go back, Mrs Boyle, but I feel sure that you have made the right decision.’ Emily Linton’s manner to her guest was warm and sympathetic. ‘Phoebe will need your support and love. There will be many difficulties ahead for her.’

‘I know.’ Mrs Boyle sighed. ‘And that is why I changed my mind. I realized that I could not abandon her, that my own feelings were of secondary importance.’

‘And you will see your son again,’ Emily smiled. ‘That will bring you great joy.’

‘Yes,’ she replied a little dubiously. ‘But not so often. I received a letter from him yesterday in which he said that he will not be at home when I return; he is to share a house with his friend Marius Nugent. He does not get along with his father, Mrs Linton. He is – of a sensitive nature, and does not share his father’s ideals.’

‘So you will spend some lonely hours when your husband is away from home?’

‘The hours are more lonely when he is
at
home, Mrs Linton,’ Mrs Boyle said sadly, but then added optimistically, ‘but I intend to make some changes in my life. I am going to endeavour to be as brave as my daughter is. I will not be bowed down by my husband’s rules any longer. I will visit Phoebe openly, as I will also visit my dear friend Meg.’

‘Tell them of us,’ Emily said eagerly, ‘and tell them that we think of them constantly.’ She hesitated and when she spoke again her voice was husky and full of tears. ‘And that we are lending them our dearest son Roger in exchange for theirs, who loves our eldest daughter.’

‘Goodbye then, old fellow.’ Ralph put out his hand to Jack who grasped it firmly with both of his. ‘Think of me sometimes when you are not thinking of your lovely wife.’

‘I will think of you often,’ Jack replied with feeling. ‘I will think of the freedom of our boyhood at Creek Farm when we thought ourselves brothers. And of our struggles as we grew up, when we perceived the prejudices of those who did not understand that we were equals; and I will think of your friendship which never wavered. Now I must stand alone without your support.’

Ralph felt his eyes prickle. ‘You will always
have my support, Jack. Know that even though we are miles apart.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Shall we ever meet again?’ he asked softly of his lifelong younger friend, who always seemed wiser than he was.

‘We will, brother.’ Jack’s brown eyes were moist and he put both arms around Ralph and hugged him. ‘Never fear. We will meet again.’

Two letters came with a York postmark on them. One was for Ralph. ‘It’s from Elizabeth,’ he said, looking up at Amelia who had received the other. ‘She says, “I have heard from two different sources that Edward Scott has left the country. One said that he had gone to Italy, the other said to Germany. Either way he has gone and we may all breathe a sigh of relief that we may never see him again. His house is shuttered and empty, and there is no sign of Dolly either.”’

‘That is good news!’ Amelia held the other letter in her hand. ‘No-one will be sorry if he is never heard of again. My letter is also from Elizabeth. She tells me that she has just heard that Moira’s mother has died. She has told Moira so that she can grieve, and asks, will I tell Kieran so that he can do the same and know that their mother is at rest.