The Golden Land (7 page)

‘It was my dad's. My grandad's before that,' began Steve.

‘Natalie says we're going to make a fortune in the clearing sale,' said Sarah.

‘I don't think so. If you're lucky you'll have enough to have dinner at the RSL and put twenty bucks through the pokies,' said her daughter with a smile as she put the strange little hanging back into its box and placed it to one side. ‘You won't miss this in your new streamlined modern house. Minimalist living. Stylish. The new you.'

‘Doesn't sound like me,' muttered Steve as he clumped out of the room in his workboots.

‘He sounds stubborn like Mark, doesn't he?' said Sarah.

Natalie didn't answer. She wished her mother would stop criticising Mark. It wasn't as if Mark really wanted to spend so much time away from his family. He was doing it for them. As he'd once commented to her when he arrived home, straight off the red-eye flight, tired and still in his grubby work clothes, ‘I can see why people don't last long in this job. Everyone's only in it for the money and once we've saved enough for the renovations, I'm out of there, too.'

But, most of the time, they were grateful for the extra money he was earning, despite the toll it took on family life.

It was almost dark by the time Sarah and Natalie had gone through the boxes and sorted them into piles.

‘I'm proud of you, Mum. You're down to keeping just six cartons.'

‘And those papers? Do you think they're of any interest?' Sarah pointed to the bundles of letters tied with ribbon and packed in plastic bags.

‘Mum, I have no idea what's in them. Why don't you read them? Skim through them at night while watching the TV,' suggested Natalie. ‘Now I've got to get the kids' dinner.'

Later Natalie stood on the verandah watching the cows settle down. Steve had finished cleaning the milking machinery and had come indoors for the evening. It was the time that Mark called to say goodnight to Charlotte and Adam.

‘What plans do you have tonight?' asked Mark. ‘Surely you've finished going through that stuff. I reckon you should just dump it all.'

‘We're nearly finished. Mum's culling now. What did you have for dinner?'

‘Veal schnitzel, potatoes duchesse and peas, and floating islands for dessert.'

‘Those caterers spoil you! I hope you're getting some hints on how to cook nice things. I'm looking forward to a special dinner when you get home.'

‘It'll be special all right! How are the kids? Does Charlotte understand what's going on with the farm?'

‘Kind of, but she won't really understand that we won't ever come back here until she sees Mum and Steve in their new house. She'll miss the calves. She has drawings she wants to show you.'

‘Well, sounds like you're having fun.'

‘Mark, this isn't fun. It's a disaster here. You can't believe the stuff Mum has, even things from my greatgrandmother. And poor Steve is – I don't know – a bit ambivalent. Big wrench for him,' she added softly into the phone.

‘Yes. But he should be happy he has a buyer who's taking everything. Maybe they should have thrown in all your mum's stuff as an extra! You never know there could be something valuable in there,' he said with a laugh.

‘I don't think so. Most of it just has sentimental value, no-one else would be interested. You should have seen this old fox fur. Yuck! Charlotte freaked out when I showed her. It had the head with its beady eyes and little feet. Anyway, Mum's going to go through the old papers and photos later. Not that we know who half the people in them are.'

‘Nat, please, just don't bring anything back with you.'

‘No, I won't. Promise. Just a couple of eggcups that are old but cute, and some books that I loved as a child and I hope Charlotte and Adam will love as well, and an odd little thing I have no idea what it is, but it's old and maybe I'll hang it on a wall,' said Natalie.

‘Sounds good. I'd better go. Put the kids on to say g'night. Miss you. Love you.'

‘Love you, too.' Natalie went back inside and handed the phone to Charlotte. ‘Daddy wants to say goodnight.'

‘Natalie, come and see what you think,' called Sarah as Steve settled in front of the TV.

Natalie went into the front room, which Steve rarely used but was now piled with furniture. Adam, in his pyjamas, was climbing over the chairs and a sofa.

‘Be careful, mister,' warned Natalie. ‘He loves climbing, Mum. Is all this furniture going to the new house?'

‘Most of it. I've been mentally furnishing rooms in the new place but those things over there I can't see working. Do you want any of it? Otherwise it's the charity shop or the tip.'

‘Some of it does look old, but useful. I'm trying to get a fresh clean look in our place. Mark would hate anything that doesn't fit in. He's not a retro kind of guy.'

Adam let out a yell as a pile of cushions collapsed and he tumbled down to the floor.

‘I said be careful! You're all right,' Natalie assured him as she picked up the little boy and hugged him. ‘What's this under here?'

‘Some old chair of Steve's. Dreadfully old-fashioned, I don't want it.'

Natalie sat in the chair cuddling Adam. ‘Very comfy. Plumpy cushions. It's a wingback, too. Unusual.'

‘Hideous fabric. It's got a footrest, pouf thing that goes with it,' said Sarah.

‘Mum, I'll take this if you're sure Steve doesn't want it.'

‘Good grief! I wouldn't allow it in the house. What are you going to do with it?'

‘I just had an idea for the playroom. It's comfortable, you can put your feet up, and because it's in sections I'm going to upholster it in fabric that's different, but matches in tone, if you know what I mean. A kind of pretty patchwork chair. Stripes and flowers kind of thing,' said Natalie.

‘Can you fit it in the back of your station wagon? The sooner it's out of here the happier I'll be,' said Sarah. ‘At least Steve will be pleased it's gone to a loving home and not the tip.'

‘He mightn't like it being mint green and lemon stripes with pink and green flowers. Or whatever.' Natalie said smiling.

A month later Natalie was at home reading a story to the two children when her mother rang.

‘Hi, Mum, when's the big move happening?'

‘Truck's coming next week. I'm going up to the new house this weekend to work out where things are going. Do you want to come down to Lismore and help? We could have lunch.'

‘Can't, Mum. Mark is away and Charlotte has a ballet class. It's a great idea to walk through the empty house to decide where to put things. Then you just tell the removalists to put it there and Steve won't have to drag furniture around. Are you excited?'

‘Yes, I think so. I just want to get settled as soon as possible. At least I'll have extra hours in the day without that damn travelling to and from the farm.'

‘How's the shop going?'

‘Good. I've got some gorgeous new tops in. You'd love them.'

‘Sorry, Mum, we're on a budget. And I don't need anything. If I was still working, it'd be a different story.'

‘Yes, you must have been the best-dressed primary teacher in Queensland.'

‘Thanks to all your sales and generosity,' said Natalie. ‘I wish you'd stock children's clothes.'

‘Too hard. Now, listen, I've been going through the letters and I've found an intriguing one from my greatuncle Andrew. Your great-great-uncle.'

‘I've never heard of him.'

‘He was my grandmother Florence's brother.'

‘You'll have to tell me about this great-great-uncle.'

‘I never knew him; he died long before I was born. Granny Flo told me some stories about him. They started to come back when I read the letter and saw some photos.'

‘Where did he live? Did he have any family?' asked Natalie.

‘Don't think so. He travelled a lot. I've got a couple of postcards from India, and from reading the letter it seems he was also in Burma.'

‘In the Second World War?' said Natalie.

‘No, long before that. He was there between the wars, I'm pretty sure. I'll have to sit down and go through everything to see if there's anything else. I just skimmed them to sort them out.'

‘Why was he in Burma? I mean, what kind of place was that?' asked Natalie. ‘I don't even know much about it now. It's never in the news. No-one goes there. It's communist, isn't it? Like North Korea?'

‘Military dictatorship. I think it's where they locked up that lovely lady in her house to stop her being the leader or something. I'll have to look it up,' said Sarah.

‘Yes, the pretty one who wears flowers in her hair,' said Natalie. ‘But why would someone from our family have been in Burma in the 1920s or whenever it was?'

‘Might be in the letters. I'm pretty sure he was born in England.'

‘That's right, Granny Florence was English, wasn't she? How'd she end up out here?'

‘Now that's a story I do know. Granny Flo met my grandfather, Wally, when he was on leave in England during World War One. He fought on the Western Front. She told me that they met on Palace Pier in Brighton. He was this jaunty, cheeky Australian soldier and he swept her off her feet. He proposed and she came out to Australia on a ship to marry him. He became a soldier settler. The government gave the returned men blocks of land as a reward for fighting in the war. It was a bit of a lottery, evidently, because some of the blocks were useless, but Wally was lucky and got a good block of land on the Richmond River, up in this area, not far from where Steve's family lived, and started dairy farming. Granny said they knew nothing about farming so they struggled for a bit. Things got worse during the Depression, but they managed to make a go of it and had a family. They sold their farm and retired just before things went bad again.'

‘Why? What happened? It's good dairy country out there,' said Natalie.

‘Mum said that when Britain moved into the Common Market and stopped giving preference to Australian dairy products, the milk and cheese market collapsed. Steve's family was one of the few who hung on as dairy farmers. A lot of farmers went into beef cattle and much of the grazing land was turned into macadamia plantations.'

‘Did Granny Flo ever go back to England?'

‘I think she went back once. She talked about it and there are photos. I have no idea what relatives we have back there. I'm pretty sure that Great Uncle Andrew never married.'

‘What was he doing in India and Burma?' said Natalie.

‘What did he do? We know nothing about our English side.'

‘There's a box of old photographs that look very Asian. Maybe that's something to do with Andrew. I'll let you know.'

Natalie wondered when her mother was going to find time to browse through the photos with her impending move and settling into a new house, so she said impetuously, ‘Why don't you send them to me? I can go through them when the children are in bed.'

Sarah laughed. ‘I thought you spent your long lonely nights slaving away painting, sanding and pulling up old carpet. What are you up to now?'

‘I've been painting the urns to go around the pool. I'd love to knock out some old cupboards but that's too noisy while the kids are asleep. So send me those things and I'll go through them. There's nothing to watch on TV. But register them, Mum. Don't want to lose them,' cautioned Natalie.

‘They have been in storage for so long I hope they're still okay. Some of the ones I looked at are pretty faded. Thanks, darling. Ring if there's anything of interest.' Sarah said, sounding relieved.

Mark put his feet up on the coffee table and watched Natalie curled in the armchair she'd brought home from the farm. He studied his wife, struck again by seeing her after several weeks' absence. She'd changed. Not physically, she was still slim, her dark brown hair a mass of tousled curls, her skin glowing without make-up, her dark lashes hiding her large brown eyes. She was chewing the curve of her bottom lip as she read. She had the natural beauty of a young girl, but now, in her thirties, she had poise and a strength that had developed only recently.

Or maybe he was noticing it because of their absences. He didn't often like to address the fact she was carrying the burden of running the house and caring for the kids while he was gone for a month. Although she was managing very well, he felt guilty for being away from his family so much.

‘That's a really ugly chair,' he commented.

She looked up. ‘It's very comfortable. I like it. And you won't recognise it when I've finished with it.'

‘I hope it's not going to cost too much,' said Mark.

‘No way. I found some fabric at a garage sale. Really gorgeous. It was a set of contrasting curtains. Upholstering the chair will give me something to do in the evenings. Can't be too hard. I can sew.'

‘I'm sure you'll do a great job, Nat.'

‘Hmmm,' replied Natalie, who was now deeply engrossed in an old letter her mother had sent her and didn't look up again.

Mark turned on the TV and began surfing the channels.

Eventually Natalie folded the letter and sat quietly.

Mark flicked the sound down on a cable sports channel, knowing she hated American football. When there was no reaction he glanced at her. Natalie was staring thoughtfully into space.

‘What's up? Found a skeleton in the closet?' Mark asked.

‘Not really.'

‘Who's it from?' Mark was trying to fathom the expression on her face.

‘It's from my great-grandmother's brother, Andrew. It's so . . . touching.'

‘What does it say?' asked Mark.

‘It's quite an extraordinary story,' replied Natalie. ‘It seems that he was in Burma, working for an English publication, when he met a Burmese princess called Tipi Si. She was very poorly treated by the British and as a result, lived in terrible poverty. In a weak moment, she sold something to an art dealer called Ferguson, but she regretted doing so immediately. The item, a thing called a kammavaca, had been given to her for safekeeping by her brother, the last king of Burma. Anyway, Uncle Andrew was so moved by her problems that he told her that he would track down the dealer, and get it back.'