The Islands (2 page)

‘It's looking like a B and S ball without the ball,' grinned Catherine. ‘I have a sinking feeling the two hundred people I asked are all going to turn up.'

‘What's B and S?' asked Mollie.

‘Bachelors and Spinsters . . . meaning anyone who's single and under thirty generally.'

‘Oh, I see. Sounds a bit old fashioned, who calls themself a spinster in 1971?'

‘It's a term,' said Catherine. ‘I'm glad it's not going to rain,' she added, looking at the cloudless blue sky.

‘We could do with some follow-up rain,' sighed Rob.

‘Spoken like a true farmer,' laughed Catherine.

Mollie leant forward as the house came into view. Several vehicles, muddy and dusty, were already parked close to the big shed behind the gracious white homestead.

The house was an old building, with French doors opening onto the long latticed and colonnaded verandah. A sleep-out with striped canvas blinds ran along one side and the sandstone steps from the verandah led to a length of well watered lawn and thick flowering shrubbery. The house had an air of permanence, of solid respectability, of having survived hard seasons, a place where children were born, raised and played. An extension built in the 1960s blended in. The fresh white paint and startling bright aqua pool announced that, although this was a classic building, it was also a modern home.

They got out of the station wagon and Rob reached for Mollie's bag as Rosemary, Catherine's mother, came to greet them.

‘Plane must have been on time. Thanks for doing the airport run, Rob. All our vehicles are running about the countryside either working or on party business.'

‘No trouble at all, Mrs Moreland.'

‘And welcome to you, Mollie. I suppose you're hanging out for a cup of tea?' She led the way into the house followed by Robert and Catherine.

‘I certainly wouldn't say no,' sighed Mollie. ‘Oh, it's so nice and cool in here.'

‘It's the thick walls, Dad says it's like a wine cellar, constant temperature. Even in winter,' said Catherine. ‘My grandfather built the house of mud bricks.'

‘I've put you in the little spare room at the back of the house.' Rosemary headed down the cool dark hallway of polished wood where family photographs were hung next to photos of prize-winning bulls and horses.

‘I suppose the early arrivals are getting stuck into the beer,' said Rob with some longing.

‘Probably. But I've given those fellows a few jobs to do, so I hope they get them finished before getting onto the grog,' said Rosemary. ‘Make yourself at home, Rob, there's a bed or two left in the sleep-out.'

‘I'm okay. I have my swag, thanks, Mrs Moreland. At least the weather is holding.'

‘It's going to be a lovely night. Perfect for you, Catherine.'

Rob swung Mollie's bag onto the bed and grinned at the girls. ‘There you go. I'll be off then and see if there's anything I can do out where they're setting up.'

Catherine laughed. ‘You do that. See you later. Thanks again for the ride.' As she helped Mollie hang up her dresses she whispered, ‘He'll be straight over to the boys at the keg.'

‘What time does it all start?' asked Mollie.

‘Seems like it already has,' said Rosemary. ‘I'll leave you girls to it. Shout if you need anything, Mollie, dear.'

‘Rob is nice, I see what you mean about country boys – very polite. Good looking too. Have you and Rob, ever, you know, been boyfriend girlfriend?' asked Mollie, keen to sort out which boys might be available. She intended to make the most of her long weekend in the country.

‘Heavens, no!' exclaimed Catherine. ‘He's like a brother. We had to sit in kindergarten classes together.'

‘Where was the kindergarten?' wondered Mollie. ‘It must have been a long trip.'

‘Oh Mum ran it here at
Heatherbrae
, there were quite a few of us. There was always a family or two with kids. Later we went into Peel on a bus but Rob went to boarding school in Sydney. Now, let's get some tea and I'll show you around.'

‘What room is the party in? Or is it on the verandah?' Mollie hadn't seen anywhere that could hold a large group.

Catherine burst out laughing. ‘It's down in the paddock . . . as far away from the house as possible. The oldies stay up here. We'll come up here later in the evening for the official toast and to cut the cake.'

‘A paddock! But I brought a new lace outfit and high heels!'

‘Don't worry, everyone dresses up. Like I told you, these parties can last till sunrise! Or until the booze runs out. We can make as much noise as we want to – the nearest neighbours are miles away and they are all here anyway! I've got a few chores to do. I'm going to help Dad move our horses further away so the party doesn't upset them. Want to come?'

‘I'm not very horsey,' said Mollie. ‘I might have a bit of a rest and freshen up. Remember, I left home very early this morning!'

Catherine rode beside her father as they led a young horse behind them. The horses walked slowly side by side allowing Catherine and her father to talk.

‘Thanks for throwing the party, Dad.'

‘Got to celebrate the big occasion. Hope everyone has a good time. Not too good a time,' he added. ‘I know some of the boys can drink a dam dry.'

‘They'll be okay, Dad. At least everyone is staying the night. Glad it's not raining, though we could've moved it to the shed I guess.'

‘Yeah, like we did for my fiftieth.' Keith Moreland was quiet for a moment, then asked, ‘So, anyone special here? In the man department?'

‘You know better than that, Dad. They're all just friends. Some are engaged, a couple married, I've known most of them since I was little.'

‘Doesn't mean you can't fall in love with them. It's the best way, starting out as friends first, knowing their family background, liking the same things. Country people tend to marry country people. It's a different way of life to city people. And as for these new flower-power hippie types, well, I'm blowed if I know what they're on about. Or where they fit in.'

Catherine chuckled. ‘None of them round these parts, Dad.'

They rode in silence for a few more moments, but Keith persisted probing into his daughter's love life. ‘So no-one special, eh? I thought that Brian Grimshaw was a bit keen on you.'

‘Oh, we had a few dates. Nothing serious. Anyway he's brought up a girl from Sydney for tonight's party.'

‘And your friend Mollie, she got her eye on some of our bush boys?'

‘If she does it will only be for the short term. There's no way she'd live out here.'

‘And you? What are you going to do with your life, eh, love? Twenty-one is the time to think about these things.'

‘I don't know, Dad. I can't think of living anywhere but here. I had a couple of months in Sydney and that was enough for me.'

They busied themselves getting the horses into a small paddock, unsaddled them and threw the gear into the farm ute that Keith had earlier left by the fence. Catherine was thinking about what her father had said. Just where would she end up? Mollie had once said to her that she had to get off the property or she'd end up an old maid looking after her ageing parents. But this threat didn't worry Catherine as she felt a deep attachment to her home and the country around it. The beauty of the landscape, its familiarity, was close to her heart. It was a lifestyle she appreciated. She couldn't imagine living in a city, in suburbia. While she still worked in her father's office in Peel, she knew she had the freedom to move on or do something else any time she wanted. She was amused by her parents' interest in her love life but, unlike her girlfriends, she wasn't worried that she didn't have a regular boyfriend or any immediate prospects of settling down.

She was happy with life the way it was.

*

In the far paddock, surrounded by vehicles, long trestle tables and chairs were placed near an old bathtub filled with drinks cooling in ice under wet hessian bags. Close by was a keg of beer and a newly erected bush barbecue. A bonfire was ready to light even though the weather was warm, for by evening it would provide welcome light.

Closer to the homestead a guesthouse that had been the shearers' quarters in Catherine's grandfather's day had been taken over by a group of girls who were early arrivals. There was an understood demarcation between the adults, who would be staying in the house, and the young people in the paddock, so that the groups didn't encroach on each other.

After the party people would crash in swags on the ground or sleep in their cars. Many would be so drunk that they'd sleep anywhere and not notice any discomfort.

Perched on bales of hay, on chairs and benches and on blankets on the patchy grass, Catherine's friends talked and laughed, catching up with news and acquaintances they hadn't seen in months. Two couples had a toddler and a baby, another girl was showing off her engagement ring. No-one was older than twenty-four and most had known each other forever.

At the main house the women who were friends of the Morelands helped Rosemary in the kitchen. The men had taken over the verandah, perched on the railing under the wisteria vine that in spring dripped bunches of lavender blooms. Other men sat in the old cane verandah chairs and on the front steps, beers in hand, discussing cattle prices, the economy, Prime Minister Billy McMahon, rain and rabbits.

Everyone was dressed up – ties and jackets, highly polished good boots for the men, the young women choosing mini skirts or halter-neck patio dresses, or colourful palazzo pyjamas. Most of the mothers had opted for maxi skirts, which they topped with frilled or satin blouses. Rosemary had wanted to hire some young people who worked in the pub in town to help serve drinks at the house party, but Keith told her it wasn't necessary. ‘And those kids don't need a bartender either. They'll look after themselves.'

Down in the paddock, there was some dancing, with a lot of stumbling on the roughly cleared ground, but it was mostly drinking, talking and much laughter. Catherine was hugged, kissed and teased by her friends. Occasionally she got into intense conversations she suspected wouldn't be recalled in the morning. But mostly she found herself looking around at the gathering as if just an observer. The firelight and lanterns flickered light and shadows across familiar faces. There was an atmosphere of friendship, nearly everybody knew and liked everybody else. Sometimes Catherine thought it was like being part of a clan.

Keith came into the kitchen and found his wife supervising trays of hot sausage rolls, meatballs and meat pies. ‘I'd better do the honours and get the young people up here for the birthday toast.'

‘Well, since you're doing the speech,' she answered, ‘I'll get the camera.'

With everybody gathered and overflowing from the lounge room onto the screened verandah, Keith stepped forward and raised his voice.

‘Ladies and gentleman . . . your attention. Please charge your glasses.'

As bottles of champagne were passed and glasses topped up, Rosemary studied their only child and realised that Catherine really was grown up. She'd always been such a tomboy around the farm and she never looked her age. But now with carefully applied make-up, her hair teased and piled on top of her head and high-heeled sandals peeping below her silky green and purple Pucci print palazzo outfit, she looked elegant and sophisticated, a change from her usual outdoorsy-look of windswept burnished brown curls. Her skin was creamy, with a dusting of freckles, her hazel-green eyes clear and wide. Catherine's upturned mouth always seemed to be smiling and while not tall, she was shapely, slim and sporty fit.

‘She looks lovely. Is there a special boy around tonight?' asked Glenys, Rosemary's old school friend.

‘A couple I think,' whispered Rosemary.

‘She needs a serious boyfriend. Half her friends are engaged or married,' said Glenys. ‘But she deserves someone very special.'

Rosemary put her finger to her lips as Keith continued.

‘Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate our Catherine's coming of age. I hope you agree with me how beautiful she looks and we all know what a beautiful person she is as well.'

There was a hearty cheer at this and Catherine blushed.

‘It's difficult for a father to admit that his daughter is now a grown woman and setting out in the world to make her own life.' Keith gave Catherine a fond smile. ‘Because you'll always be our little girl. But in addition to this great party – thanks to her mother, Rosemary, her team of helpers and friends – I'd like to give Catherine a little extra gift.' He drew an envelope from his pocket and smiled at his daughter. ‘You give us more joy than you'll ever know, Catherine, and while I know you'll eventually choose some lucky boy . . .'

More comments greeted this remark with a few calls for attention from a couple of lads sporting long sideburns.

‘Before you settle down in the good old district of Russell Plains, your mother and I would like you to see a bit more of the world – just to confirm we live in the best damn country in the universe.'

Another loud cheer greeted this comment.

‘And so here is a ticket to London – return of course! But with a bit of a stopover holiday in Hawaii when you choose to come back. Enjoy it, sweetheart.' He leant down to kiss Catherine as she took the envelope from her father to big applause.

Rosemary had given Rob her camera to take pictures and Rob now eased to one side to get a better angle of Catherine.

‘Come on, love, say a few words.' Keith helped Catherine onto a chair so everyone could see and hear her.

Catherine gazed out at her friends and family, their smiling faces lit by the moonlight and reflections from the strings of coloured lights strung around the roof outside and she felt a rush of gratitude and love for the life she had.