The Last Mile Home (6 page)

‘I came to help Mrs Anderson take down the dessert for the party,' said Abby soothingly. So this was Barney's mother.

Enid swung around and glared at Mrs Anderson. ‘Dessert for the party? I thought the cook was doing everything.'

Mrs Anderson thrust the bowl of cream into Abby's hands and picked up the two cakes. ‘Barney asked me to make a cake or two, nothing special. Come along, Abby, don't want to keep them waiting.' She shot Abby a look and Abby headed swiftly for the door.

‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Holten.'

‘Bring back the leftover cake, Mrs Anderson,' called Enid.

‘So she can stuff it into those spoiled little beasts,' muttered Mrs Anderson.

Abby couldn't hold back her giggles. ‘Goodness. When they ran into the kitchen I thought they were some sort of monster rats!”

‘They're the bane of my life, I tell you. She even has me cook special things for them. I told Jim I had this dream once where they were stuffed
with food till they were as fat as a Christmas goose and I roasted the pair of them and took them to the table on a silver salver, lifted the cover and said, “Dinner is served, madam”. He thought that was a dreadful thing to dream.'

Abby burst out laughing. ‘I didn't think Barney's mother would be like that. For a minute I was a bit scared of her.'

‘She isn't normally that feisty. She mostly drifts around in a dream world. Well, come on, let's serve up the cake.'

Back at the barbecue Bob McBride smiled at Abby and slipped an envelope across the table to her. ‘Here's your pay, luv.'

‘Thanks, Dad.' She slipped the envelope into the pocket of her skirt and ate a piece of cake. Some of the men were moving around, gathering up their gear ready to cut out. They came up to shake hands and said goodbye to Abby, saying she'd been a real help and a breath of fresh air around the shed.

‘It was good having a girl around the place, made us watch our p's and q's,' said the boss of the team with a grin.

While her father was saying goodbye and politely refusing invitations to meet the others in town, Abby picked up a pile of dishes and carried them in to the cook. ‘It was great. All your meals were, Tommo. I don't know how you keep up with it all.'

‘This job's an art, Abby. Specially when you're out on the track and got a limited plant so you have to cook everything in a camp oven and in the coals. I'll let you in on a secret, d'ya know what my nickname used t'be?'

Abby shook her head.

‘One Pot Tommo. Cause everything from a cake to a roast came outta one pot!'

‘Like the magic pudding!' exclaimed Abby and they both laughed. She went back to the deserted table and opened her pay packet. There was a neatly folded wad of pound notes with the hours worked and the amount tabulated in pencil on a piece of paper. Pinned to it was a new five pound note with another note.
Thanks for helping us when we needed it. Buy yourself something pretty next time you're window shopping. Cheers, Barney Holten.

Abby gasped in surprise. He must have slipped it in after talking to her about shopping in Sydney. She blushed and put her pay in her pocket; then, curling her fingers around the five pounds, hurried outside.

She waited until she saw Barney shake hands with two men who were about to drive off. He saw her standing in the twilight and came over to her. ‘You and your dad setting off now too?'

‘Yes. Thank you, it's been a nice dinner. And
thank you, but I can't take this.' She thrust the blue note at him and turned away.

Barney caught her wrist and stuffed the money back in her hand. ‘Look, I don't want to embarrass you. You did more than your share. Call it a bonus. Really, I won't take no for an answer.'

Abby didn't want to feel under any obligation to Barney Holten. ‘I don't feel right about it. I didn't do anything more than anyone else.' She was looking down, feeling uncomfortable, and was relieved when she heard her father approaching.

‘We're all set to go, Ab. Our stuff is in the ute.'

‘Hop in, Dad.' She turned away, not looking at Barney. ‘Goodbye. Thanks again.'

Barney stopped Bob McBride. ‘You have a stubborn girl there, Mr McBride. I gave her a bonus and she won't take it. Here, put this away for her.' He handed the five pound note to him.

Bob McBride glanced at the money and at Abby. ‘You got your right pay, luv?'

‘Yes, Dad. I didn't do anything extra. Really.'

‘Then if you don't feel you've earned it, don't keep it.' He handed the money back to Barney. ‘We appreciate the gesture. Thanks.'

Barney nodded, suddenly aware he had made Abby feel beholden or had somehow demeaned her, and he regretted it. ‘I just wanted to say
thanks. I appreciated her pitching in at short notice,' he said softly.

‘A handshake's all the thanks that's needed,' replied Bob McBride. He shook Barney's hand. ‘Be seeing you round no doubt.' He strode over to the ute.

Abby glanced up apologetically at Barney. She hadn't wanted to embarrass him. She held out her hand and he shook it looking again into her wide eyes.

‘Thank you,' he said.

Abby smiled at him and gently drew her hand from his. ‘Thank you. See you again.' She hurried after her father and didn't hear Barney's soft response.

‘I hope so.'

Abby's father nodded off to sleep as she drove home. She wished Barney Holten hadn't offered her that extra money — though it would have been nice to give it to her mother — because it had spoiled the ease she'd felt when talking to him. Suddenly, instead of being two young people simply chatting together, he had reinforced his position as the wealthy one, able to dispense favours. For a moment she was angry with him, thinking he was trying to buy his way into her good graces. Then she laughed at herself. Who do you think you are, Abigail McBride? As if Barney
Holten would even want to go to that much trouble. He probably felt he only had to snap his fingers and she'd come running. Well, he was wrong on that score. Sensibly she realised he had probably felt a bit sorry for her and figured with such a large family and her looking for work, extra money would be welcome. Now she was angry with herself. She should have kept the money. ‘Oh well,' she sighed aloud as she turned towards the house.

The dog leapt to his feet, rattling his chain against the little tin humpy, but he didn't bark as he recognised the ute.

‘Wake up, Dad, we're here.'

Bob McBride stretched, then peered into the darkness. ‘What's that, Abby? That light over there?'

‘Where, Dad ?'

‘By the tank. I could swear I saw a light.'

‘You're seeing min min lights, Dad.' She turned off the ignition. Lights glowed from inside the house and all was silent in the yard. Then Abby saw it too. A quick flash of light. They both got quietly out and walked towards the plump silhouette of the water tank. Rounding the corner, they stopped. Two small figures in white were on their hands and knees shining a torch into the chicken coop.

‘What are you up to?' asked Bob McBride loudly.

‘Eek!'

‘Oo-er!'

The twins jumped to their feet, stumbling over their nighties, Colleen hiding the torch behind her back. ‘You scared us,' she said.

‘You gave us a bit of a start too,' said Abby. ‘What are you doing with the chooks?'

‘We just wanted to make sure they were there,' said Shirley. ‘They got out when we were feeding them.'

‘Kev said if we left the coop open they'd go in.'

‘And are they in?' grinned their father.

The girls broke into large smiles. ‘Yep.'

‘Well, let's get you girls back inside. Does Mum know you're out here?'

‘No, we climbed out the window,' said Shirley, and Colleen punched her in the ribs for giving away their secret.

‘Okey-dbkey. Abby, you take one, I'll get the other and we'll smuggle 'em back inside.' Bob McBride bent down and Colleen leapt onto his back as Shirley hoisted herself onto Abby. Abby grasped Shirley under the knees, lifted her up higher on her back, and set off. Their father galloped ahead with Colleen clinging on as he piggybacked her to the bedroom window, trailed
by Abby with Shirley. Panting, they tipped the giggling girls through the window onto the bed beneath.

Gwen looked up from her mending as Abby and her father strolled in, arms linked, smiling broadly. ‘You two look like you've had a good time.'

‘We have.' Bob reached into his shirt and dropped his unopened pay packet into her lap. ‘There you go, luv.' He kissed the top of her head. Gwen smiled up at him. ‘Anyone for a cup of tea?'

‘I will, Mum. I'll put the kettle on,' said Abby.

‘Think I'll go get cleaned up,' said Bob. He yawned and headed for the bathroom.

‘He'll be out like a light in five minutes flat, Abby,' said Gwen, sticking the needle back in the reel of thread. ‘Come and sit down and tell me all about it.'

Abby dropped onto the settee next to her mother, picked up a loose cushion and hugged it to herself, and started to laugh. ‘I met Mrs Holten . . . and friends . . .'

As Abby and her mother talked softly, their light laughter occasionally drifting through the peaceful cottage, the twins sleepily whispered to each other, glad Tom Turkey and the bantams were in bed. Kevin and Brian breathed slowly and deeply, both fast asleep. Bob McBride kicked off
his boots, pulled off his leather belt and fell back on the bed, and promptly went to sleep.

At Amba, Barney Holten sat in a chair on the darkened verandah. His mother was in the sitting room listening to a play on the radio, her two dogs curled in her lap. His father was in his study with the door shut. Reading, doing the books, or looking at his stamp collection, Barney assumed. On impulse, he stood up, went to the study door and tapped lightly. Hearing his father's voice say, ‘Yes?', he opened the door.

His father sat at his desk, peering through a magnifying glass at a page of stamps. ‘Yes, Barney?'

‘Er, nothing. I just thought I'd see what you were doing. The barbecue went well. You should have come down.'

‘Like I said, it was your affair. I hope everything is cleaned up and no damage was done.' He continued to stare at Barney in the doorway. ‘Well, if you'll excuse me, I want to sort through a few more of these.' He looked back down at the neat rows and carefully adjusted the alignment of one of the stamps. Picking up the glass, he studied them intently and didn't notice the door close quietly behind Barney.

T
HE TWINS CAME RUNNING IN TO BOB AND GWEN'S
bedroom and jumped on the bed.

‘Rain's gone,' Colleen announced brightly.

‘Are we going out today?' asked Shirley.

‘They said at school everyone had to go,' elaborated Colleen.

‘Go where, my little sausage?' asked Bob, ruffling Colleen's hair as she bounced on his chest. ‘Ouch! I don't like schoolteachers bossing me around.'

Gwen wrapped her arms around Shirley, who was snuggling under the bedclothes between her parents. ‘Now, Bob, don't be disrespectful about their teacher.'

‘It'll be fun, Dad. Can't we please go, Mum?' asked Shirley.

‘Go where?' demanded Bob, pretending to shake Colleen, who squealed and laughed.

Kevin appeared in his pyjama bottoms at the door, rubbing his eyes. ‘What's going on?'

‘Tell them, Kev, about the picnic'

‘Oh yeah. It's the town community day picnic'

‘A picnic! Why didn't you say so? That's different. I like teachers who recommend
picnics
,' said Bob with exaggerated enthusiasm. ‘What d'ya reckon, Mum?'

‘Gosh, I'd forgotten. There was something about it in the local rag. We'll call Mrs Pemberton, she'll know all about it. So it's today, eh? If the rain has stopped, I suppose we could go. I'd better get cracking and bake something.' She flung back the covers and jumped out of bed, pulling her chenille dressing gown over her nightie.

‘There she goes, the mad baker.' Bob let out a wolf whistle and the children laughed. ‘Go tell Abby and Brian, gang.'

Gwen had a cake in the oven, was dressed, had made the bed and was dishing up bacon and eggs and porridge by the time Bob had spent a little time in peaceful contemplation in the throne room down the back, showered, shaved and emerged in a good pair of slacks and a white shirt.

He looked around his family at the table. ‘We'll go to the picnic, but we're going to church first. We haven't been since we got here and that's over a month ago. The priest will think us a bunch of heathens.'

‘I haven't got a dress to wear to mass,' wailed Colleen.

‘Me neither,' joined in Shirley.

‘Of course you do,' said Abby. ‘I ironed those pretty blue and white dresses myself. We don't have to get too dressed up if we're going to a picnic afterwards. Where is it anyway?'

‘In the town park. They're setting up a tent and there'll be rides and things, I think,' said Kevin enthusiastically.

‘What a good thing the rain has stopped,' said Gwen.

‘We needed it, luv, don't complain,' said Bob, a typical countryman who'd welcomed the rain after the preceding long dry months.

‘Right, mass then the picnic. As soon as you've finished breakfast, make your beds, get cleaned up and into Sunday clothes,' directed Gwen. ‘Abby, as soon as you're ready, help me with the sandwiches.'

‘I'd rather do that first, then get dressed. I don't want food on my clean clothes,' said Abby, carrying the empty porridge plates to the sink.

When everyone was finally dressed and ready, Betsy was backed out of the shed she shared with stacks of feed, tools and drums of diesel fuel. The picnic food and blankets were stowed in the boot, and the family scrambled noisily for positions on the well-worn leather seats in her soft interior.

‘Don't crush my dress, Brian.'

‘Here, Shirley, pass him over, he can sit on my lap in the front,' said Gwen.

‘Doesn't Kevy look nice.'

‘Don't call me that. My name's Kevin.'

‘Kevy, Kevy, Kevyyyy . . .' sang the twins.

‘Ignore them, mate,' said Bob, loosening his wool tie as he got behind the wheel. ‘Now, what's the priest's name again?'

Betsy behaved beautifully and as they drove, Bob warmed up the McBride choir with a spirited rendition of
Faith of Our Father.

All was going well until they came to the dip where the floodway was running a small stream. Bob McBride stopped Betsy and contemplated the flowing water.

‘Ooh, Daddy, how are we going to get across?' wailed Shirley.

‘Do you want me to get out and test it?' offered Kevin, keen for adventure.

‘It looks a bit deep, do you think she'll stall?' asked Gwen with a worried frown.

‘I don't think so,' declared Bob, letting out the clutch and giving Betsy a bit of a rev-up. She sailed valiantly onto the concrete channel and with a cough, an intake of water up the exhaust pipe, she stalled. Dead centre.

‘All right, everybody out.'

‘Daddy! We'll get wet!' squealed Colleen.

‘We've got our best clothes on,' echoed Shirley.

‘Well we can't just sit here,' said Abby.

‘Why not?' muttered Kevin.

‘You want us all out?' Gwen double-checked.

‘Absolutely. We're not pushing you lot
and
Betsy. Right, Kev?'

‘No fear,' said Kevin.

The twins started to cry.

‘That's enough, you two. Take off your shoes and socks, stick your dress in your undies and wade over. And don't trip,' dictated their father.

Abby and Gwen were already taking off their shoes. Gwen pulled off her gloves, pushed them in her handbag, looped it on her shoulder, and lifted up Brian.

‘I'll take him, luv. Kevin, you go first. Go slowly,' directed Bob.

Sniffing, Shirley and Colleen took off their white socks, stuffing them down into their patent leather shoes, wiggled around and stuffed the
skirts of their spotted muslin dresses into their white cotton undies and gingerly opened the car door. Abby was beside them and helped them down. Taking a hand each, she led them carefully through the knee-deep water as they clutched their prayer book in one hand and hat in the other. As soon as they reached dry land, they quickly fluffed out their skirts, smoothing the wrinkles.

Kevin held out a hand to his mother as she stepped up on the dry road, letting down the bunched skirt of her frock. ‘Good thing I wasn't wearing nylons, eh, girls?'

Bob McBride deposited Brian on dry ground and turned back to the stranded car. As the somewhat bedraggled family watched, he tried the starter, but to no avail.

‘Righto, Kev,' Bob called after a few tries, ‘bring your muscles over here. Abby, you get in and steer.'

Abby, who had been treading carefully, her skirt hitched up into the elastic legs of her pants, glanced back at her father and Kevin as she opened the car door. Her attention was momentarily diverted, causing her to miss her footing on the running board. She slipped and fell to her knees, soaking the bottom of her skirt. Gritting her teeth in annoyance, she got behind the wheel.

Father and son put their shoulders to it and
slowly pushed Betsy through the short strip of water.

‘Give her a minute or two,' Bob panted, ‘and we'll give her another go.'

Gwen opened her handbag and handed him the red packet of Ardath cigarettes. They both lit up while the girls peered at themselves in the tiny square mirror Gwen produced from her bag. Hats were adjusted, hair touched up, Peter Pan collars straightened, dresses smoothed and shoes put back on. The twins paid particular attention to folding over the tops of their socks so the ruffle edging sat just so.

Abby shook out her mud-stained skirt. ‘Not much I can do about this, I guess.'

‘Rinse it out in the bathroom at church,' suggested Gwen. ‘At least it might get the mud out.'

‘It'll dry in the sun,' said Colleen.

‘Right, let's give her another go,' said Bob.

Gwen looked anxiously at her small marcasite watch as Bob got behind the wheel. One, two, three turns of the ignition and then, with a burble, she caught and turned over. Everybody cheered, Brian clapped and they all piled back into the car and set off once again.

They were late but the service hadn't started. They genuflected quickly and shuffled along a
rear pew as several people turned to watch the newcomers get settled. Abby followed last and there were a few raised eyebrows at her bedraggled skirt.

Gwen nudged Kevin and showed the girls which page to turn to in their missal. Father O'Leary settled his vestments and Kevin closed his eyes as the long Latin service began.

By the time it came to the sermon, Brian was very bored. He'd been sitting on the floor between their feet, crouched on the hassock. Gwen handed him her rosary beads, which he pulled over his head, playing with the silver cross. With Brian quiet, Gwen settled back to listen to the sermon.

‘Today,' began Father O'Leary loudly, ‘as we celebrate with God on this day of rest, we can rejoice in the hard work we have done this past week. But while there are those of us who toil honestly and obey the lessons of the Lord, there could be among us, right here, evil at work. The filthy and dangerous idea of Communism, which is a blight on our world today, is spreading. Its seeds are carried into our precious country by those who come from other places and seek to destroy what they have never known or enjoyed. We must guard against this insidious disease. Be watchful of those who espouse the overthrow and
change of our democracy and all that our parents and grandparents held dear, fought and died for. Communism will undo our way of life!' thundered the father, raising his hand and shaking it.

Kevin didn't understand this talk of the Cold War and Communism and atomic bombs. It all seemed so far away. He stifled a yawn as the priest continued.

‘Communism is the death knell of decency, safety and morality. Stand firm against this threat. Today in many parts of Europe, Catholic families like yours are no longer able to attend the holy mass or pray publicly. We can only pray that the faith of these families can survive the years to come. I beg you all to keep the holy Catholic faith strong in your families. Pray together, stay together. Mother, father, children, kneel down together every night and say the rosary, attend confession and the sacrament together.

‘Instruct the children well in the holy Faith, have them marry within the Faith and it will stay with them forever. Let us now pray for the souls of the heathens, unscrupulous leaders and evildoers that they will see the light and follow the true path of God's righteousness.'

There was a scrabbling and banging as the congregation knelt to pray. Gwen clasped her hands together and rested her forehead on them
on the back of the pew in front. She felt Colleen snuggle closer beside her and knew she was scared. While the ten-year-old hadn't fully understood what the priest was saying, she knew there was a danger out there that could sneak in and rattle the walls of her safe home. Shirley loved going to church, she loved getting dressed up and collecting the holy pictures and repeating some of the Latin mass. Colleen, however, always found the experience frightening: the threat of punishment, the curses that would come raining down from heaven if she disobeyed God, and always some dire warning from the priest. She put her fingers in her ears and tried to think about the picnic instead.

Abby, who'd been daydreaming, suddenly became aware that the service was over. While her mother untangled the rosary from Brian's neck, she helped get the twins ready, collecting an assortment of gloves, handkerchiefs, dislodged ribbons and religious cards. The large congregation filed slowly from the church to the accompaniment of an enthusiastic rendition from the organist. There were so many children in the family groups that the aisles soon became jammed with jostling, joking youngsters more committed to having fun pushing and shoving than in making a prompt and decorous exit.

On the neat lawns outside the church, Father O'Leary circulated, shaking hands, patting children on the head and taking jocular care to single out newcomers or infrequent worshippers for special attention.

Bob McBride watched him at work, waiting for the inevitable. ‘Workin' the mob like a good sheepdog,' he said to himself, and smiled.

‘Tis good to see you all,' said the priest as he shook hands with the McBrides, winning a smile from each of the children as he teased them. ‘Of course I understand you've had the settlin' in and shearin' to keep you busy of late, but I trust we'll be seeing more of each other in the future,' he said warmly, making it sound more like an invitation than a recognition of religious backsliding.

‘You know we'll do our best,' said Gwen reassuringly.

‘Indeed I do . . . indeed I do . . . Now are you coming to the picnic? I'm in one of the mixed cricket teams you know.' He winked and lowered his voice, ‘The Church of England minister is on the opposing side.'

‘And whose side is the Lord on then?' shot back Bob, and got a sharp nudge in the ribs from Gwen.

‘Oh ye of little faith,' replied the priest with a laugh, and moved on to another family group.

At the same time, several blocks away from where the Catholics had their towering red-brick church, a smaller congregation gathered outside the modest white wooden Presbyterian church. They exchanged news on the weather, stock and family, generally in that order of priority. Most were from the land or small businesses.