Silver in the Sun Page 2
‘Would you like to read a paper while you wait?’
The young man smiled again. ‘Actually, I’d prefer to talk about Kanimbla. That is, if you have the time, Mrs … er … ’
‘Donovan. I’m Helen Donovan and me husband’s Ray,’ she reminded him.
‘Have you lived here long?’ Ian asked.
‘All me bloomin’ life. Me dad and mum had the café and shop before they retired. Ray and I took it over. I went to school here.’
‘So you must know the district very well?’
‘I reckon I do. I know just about everyone and what they’re up to. I know the ones I can trust with credit and the ones I can’t. I know the alcos and I know who’s been fooling around. Everyone comes to me for the latest,’ Helen said.
‘Perhaps you’d be kind enough to tell me what you know about Kanimbla and Mr Blake,’ Ian suggested.
Helen pulled a chair away from Ian’s table and sat down rather heavily. Ian looked at her and decided that she was not unattractive. Her hair was still dark and wavy and it was kept in place by a large gold clip. Her skin was verging towards olive and her eyes were a deep brown. Her khaki skirt and lemon blouse were half-hidden by a yellow apron with a red border.
‘Kanimbla’s the biggest property in the district. It’s not as big as it used to be in the old days because some of it was sold before Jack Richardson came on the scene. Because it was a major merino stud it wasn’t resumed for soldier settlement after the war, which was a good thing as most of the blocks they handed out were far too small to make a living off.’
Helen was delighted to have an attentive audience, and such a good-looking one at that.
‘I reckon Jack and Linda Richardson were the closest to royalty of anyone who ever lived in this district. Jack was the son of a Pommy aristocrat and Linda was from a family just as classy as him. They never had kids – Linda had some kind of health problem. Jack lived it up pretty well – though you probably know all this. When Jack took over the place he had Leo Blake there from day one. Leo’s a really good man. He’s been the manager there for years and been running the place on his own since the crash. There’s not a person in the district that would say a bad word about Leo and Judy. Judy’s a bit younger than him. Leo won’t stand for any nonsense but he’ll give a fella a go if he thinks he’s got some good in him.
‘Do they have any children?’ Ian asked.
‘Two girls. There’s Joanna. She’s married to a fella who’s got a cattle place over towards the coast. He’s a nice bloke and they’ve got a boy and a girl. Now there’s another baby – unplanned, mind you – and that’s why Judy isn’t with Leo. His crook foot happened the day after Judy went to help Jo,’ Helen Donovan explained.
‘What about his other daughter?’ Ian asked.
‘Rhona lives in the city. She isn’t married. She’s a doctor of something, not medicine,’ Helen said.
‘A PhD, perhaps?’ Ian suggested.
‘Something like that. She’s at Sydney University. Jack Richardson had a few clashes with Rhona. She didn’t have much time for Jack, said he wasn’t much of a man, just lucky to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth. She rarely came back to Kanimbla while Jack was here, usually only when she knew he’d be away. She might not have come at all if it wasn’t for Leigh Metcalfe,’ she said.
‘Who’s Leigh Metcalfe?’ Ian asked.
‘If you take notice of Rhona, Leigh is one of Australia’s best writers and he’s a poet of sorts too. Some people say they had an affair, though nobody really knows. Leigh probably didn’t want to cross Leo, though it wasn’t for lack of trying on Rhona’s part. She’s a touchy woman, and brainy,’ Helen said.
‘So where does Leigh fit into Kanimbla?’ Ian asked, intrigued that there was a celebrated writer in the region.
‘He lives on Kanimbla. He’s got a house up the river and keeps an eye on things at that end of the property. He’s not a full-time employee but he gets some kind of wage, as well as what he earns from his writing.’
‘Interesting,’ Ian said. ‘So what else can you tell me about Kanimbla, Mrs Donovan?’
‘Well now, it has the best merino sheep and the best Shorthorn cattle in the district. It was one of the original properties when this part of the country was first settled. There’s leg irons in one of the cellars. They were used when convicts worked there. I don’t know how many there were, but some died there.’
He’d hoped to learn more about local opinion of his late uncle but Mrs Donovan hadn’t given him much of a picture. And any further conversation was halted by the arrival of two customers. One was a tall man with broad shoulders, obviously a grazier from his attire and wide-brimmed hat. His companion was a girl who Ian judged to be about his own age. Beneath her grey Akubra, her long dark hair fell in soft curls and had been tied loosely with a simple band. She was dressed in blue jeans and a blue checked shirt. Ian guessed that she was the man’s daughter.
‘G’day day, Helen. Got our order ready?’ the tall man asked with his eyes on Ian. The girl’s grey eyes were also on him. Visitors were a rarity.
‘It’s all ready, Mr McDonald. How are you, Fiona?’ the shopkeeper asked.
Before Fiona could respond the tall man lifted his eyebrows in an unspoken question and nodded towards the young man at the table.
‘This is Ian, Mr McDonald. He’s going out to Kanimbla with Alec and Trish Claydon. Ian, this is Mr Lachie McDonald and his daughter, Fiona. They’re almost your neighbours.’
The young man rose to his feet in one smooth movement to shake their hands. The older man’s hand was rough from years of hard work but the girl’s was very soft. As he shook her hand, and met her gaze, her eyes sparkled in her tanned face and it dawned on Ian that she was quite stunning.
‘Going out there to work, Ian?’ Lachie McDonald asked. Kanimbla usually employed at least two jackaroos and sometimes three.
‘Something like that,’ Ian answered with a smile.
‘First job?’ Lachie pressed.
‘Not quite. I jackarooed on Wongarben at Warren for a year or so,’ Ian said.
‘I reckon you’ll get on well with Leo. He’s a tough taskmaster but he’s also very fair. We might see you around, Ian.’
Lachie turned and walked to the shop’s counter. Fiona smiled in Ian’s direction, nodded and followed her father. Ian resumed his seat just as a large car drew up outside.
‘Your taxi has arrived, young man. You should have an interesting drive,’ Lachie chuckled. He and Fiona left the shop with boxes of groceries in their arms. They were trailed by Helen Donovan, who also carried a box of groceries under each arm, the weight of which seemed not to concern her in the slightest. Outside, Lachie spoke briefly with the newcomers and jerked his head to indicate Ian’s whereabouts.
A sandy-haired man of medium height but thick build came barrelling through the shop doorway. He had the appearance of someone in a great hurry, or perhaps someone with great energy. He was followed more sedately by his taller wife, whose youthful figure could still turn heads. Dressed to emphasise her best features, her fawn skirt provided a fair glimpse of her long, smooth thighs. Her eyes registered mild shock when they rested on the handsome young man at the table.
Ian got to his feet again and extended his hand. ‘Hello,’ he smiled. ‘You must be Mrs Claydon.’
‘And you must be Ian,’ she returned a brilliant smile. ‘Sorry we’re late. The sheep sale dragged on a bit and Alec would stay. And stay. Oh, this is my husband, Alec.’
Alec’s handclasp was very firm and it was accompanied by a slight pat on the young man’s upper arm. ‘Welcome to Murrawee, Ian. Not that there’s a lot here to provide you with a welcome.’
‘There’s not much wrong with it so far,’ Ian said quickly. ‘I’ve had a nice lunch and Mrs Donovan has been entertaining me very well.’
Helen’s brown eyes glistened. It had been a while since anyone had come right out and paid her a compliment. Ian’s words were not lost on Trish C
laydon either. She reckoned she knew men, and here, she decided, was a very different kind of young man to any she’d met in a long while.
Ian turned and shook hands with the shopkeeper. ‘Thank you very much for the lunch and for looking after me so well, Mrs Donovan.’ He handed her a twenty dollar note and thanked her when she gave him his change.
‘It was a pleasure, Ian. I hope I see you again before long. Give my regards to Leo and tell him I hope he’s on deck again pretty soon. And don’t forget what I told you. Leo’s been known to eat jackaroos – but only smart-mouthed ones,’ Helen said, smiling.
‘I shouldn’t be in any danger then,’ Ian said as he collected his suitcase and kitbag and followed Trish out the door, leaving Helen to puzzle over his remarks.
Chapter Two
‘So you’re a relation of Jack Richardon,’ Trish said to Ian as soon as the Fairlane was cruising down the wide, dusty road.
‘That’s right.’
‘Will you be staying long?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know yet, Mrs Claydon.’
‘I suppose it will depend how well you get on with Leo. He can be quite – er – forceful,’ she said, and smiled.
‘It won’t, actually,’ Ian answered politely but firmly. ‘How well or otherwise I get on with Mr Blake won’t make any difference to how long I stay.’
Trish wasn’t sure how to respond to this. The boy sounded older than he looked. Before she could say anything, he changed the subject.
‘So how far is it to Kanimbla?’
‘Fifty-two ks,’ Alec got a word in.
‘Fifty-two kilometres,’ Trish corrected.
‘Christ,’ Alec said under his breath. ‘Why does she have to correct every damned thing I say?’
Ian felt the atmosphere in the car grow tense. Unabashed by her husband’s obvious irritation, Trish pressed on. ‘Is this your first job, Ian?’
‘It’s not exactly a job, Mrs Claydon,’ he said, but offered no further information. Trish thought that perhaps he had come for an extended holiday. His accent sounded English, and she knew lots of young Brits came to Australia on working holidays and stayed for months or even years.
‘Are you English?’ she asked.
‘I was born in Australia – my mother was Australian – but I lived with my grandfather in England. I went to school at Harrow.’
‘Is that like Eton?’
‘Similar,’ Ian said with a slight smile.
‘Well, you must come and see us at Bahreenah while you’re here,’ Trish said warmly. ‘We’re your closest neighbours and Alec is a very keen merino breeder. We’re using Kanimbla rams.’
She could have added that these days her husband was keener on his sheep than he was on her. Alec had become so predictable. Who wanted to talk about sheep all day? If only Alec were more like Leigh Metcalfe.
Ian attempted to diffuse the atmosphere in the front of the car. ‘There seem to be lots of kangaroos here. Are there any emus?’
‘Heaps,’ Alec answered. ‘They’re murder on fences. Pretty good dog tucker, though. Roo meat’s okay if you don’t mind the worms. Don’t know how you could eat it, but some do. Give me a good fat wether any day.’
‘We have some nice horses at Bahreenah. Both our girls ride. They’re away at Abbotsleigh. That’s in Sydney,’ Trish said.
‘I know about Abbotsleigh,’ Ian said.
‘You do?’ she said, surprised.
‘Oh, yes. There were girls at Warren who went to Abbotsleigh,’ he said.
‘Of course.’ Trish turned in her seat to face Ian, ‘So do you have a girlfriend?’
Ian had got used to the forthrightness of the bush community during his time at Wongarben, but was still unprepared for this question. ‘Ah … no. I don’t have time for girls right now.’
‘That’s the shot, Ian,’ said Alec firmly. ‘Get your life sorted out before you start worrying about girls. They’ll still be there a few years down the track.’ Alec was very impressed with this young bloke. He seemed to have his head screwed on pretty well.
‘Huh!’ Trish snorted and turned to face the front. ‘Oh, ‘I thought all boys were keen on girls.’ God, but he was nice-looking, with his fair hair and serious hazel eyes. No doubt he had a girlfriend hidden away – maybe back in England. ‘Not long to go now,’ she said.
Ian nodded. The wide plain had given way to low hills and to his right he saw the line of the river. Flocks of white cockatoos were perched on many of the gums edging the river. They were like a white frosting on the dark green of the trees.
Alec turned off the main bitumen road and drove up a narrower tarred road that presently branched into two. ‘All that country on the right for as far as you can see is Kanimbla. That’s Bahreenah on the left. The Kanimbla homestead and woolshed are at the end of this track. You’ll see them in a tick.’
Ian tried to take in the array of buildings as the Fairlane moved slowly down the track. There were so many they resembled a small village: the imposing homestead with its wide verandahs, sweeping lawns and huge shade trees, a smaller bungalow that he presumed was the manager’s residence, and more cottages further down the track. Away to one side was the huge woolshed. There was another big building that Ian subsequently discovered was the ram shed. There were other buildings too: a big hayshed, a massive machinery shed and a separate fuel shed. Behind the main homestead there were stables and horse yards.
‘That homestead’s a bloody bottler, eh? Take a few bob to build it today. Eight bedrooms and three bathrooms. You can dance in the lounge room. There used to be three servants in the old days. There was a maid with Mrs Heatley when the Richardsons lived here. Now there’s only Mrs Heatley. She’s the housekeeper. Then there’s an old fellow who looks after the gardens and lawns, feeds Jack’s horses and dog, and kills for the homestead. He’s been here a good few years. Leo will fill you in,’ Alec said.
The Fairlane pulled up outside the bungalow. There was a mesh fence at the front of the house and a taller fence along the sides and behind. Roses dominated the front garden, which was obviously the object of much attention as there wasn’t a weed to be seen. A grey-haired man sitting in an easy chair on the wide front verandah stood up and with the help of a crutch came down the three front steps to meet them.
‘Alec, Trish,’ the man greeted them.
‘G’day, Leo. We’ve brought your visitor,’ Alec said. ‘Ian, this is Mr Blake.’
‘G’day, Ian. Have a good trip?’ Leo Blake asked.
‘It was all right thanks, Mr Blake,’ Ian said.
‘Sorry I couldn’t be there to meet you. Mrs Donovan look after you?’
‘Very well. She’s a nice person,’ Ian said.
‘That she is. You can drop your gear off here and we’ll take it up to the homestead later,’ Leo said. He noted the look of surprise on the Claydons’ faces; they had probably expected Ian to be lodged at the old jackaroos quarters.
‘I suppose you’re ready for a drink o’ tea and a bit of something to eat?’ Leo queried.
‘I had a good lunch in town, Mr Blake. But a cup of tea would be nice, if you’re having one,’ Ian said.
‘You like to stay a while?’ Leo asked the Claydons.
‘Thanks, but we’ll be going, Leo. I’ve got a few things to do before dark,’ Alec answered.
‘Thanks again,’ Leo said.
‘Yes, thanks for the lift,’ Ian echoed.
Trish moved close to Ian and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Be sure to come and see us. The girls will be home on holidays soon. I’ll give you a call when you’ve settled in a bit.’
Ian nodded, feeling a sudden urge to move out of her reach.
Alec lifted his right arm in a gesture of farewell as he turned the car in a circle and headed back down the narrow road. Ian watched the car until it was out of sight and then looked at Leo Blake and grinned tightly.
‘An interesting drive up?’ Leo asked, smiling too.
‘You could say that.’
‘It was fine, really. I hope your ankle is much better,’ Ian said. He liked the look of Leo Blake. Close to six feet tall and solidly built, he had a very strong face with nicely shaped nose and steely blue eyes. His face was tanned and the skin below his eyes crisscrossed with fine wrinkles. His grey hair was cut short but there was still plenty of it. He was wearing grey gaberdine trousers and a creamy-brown checked shirt. His slipper flapped as he moved with the crutch.
‘It’s more a hindrance than anything else. Let’s go inside and I’ll put the kettle on.’
Ian opened the mesh door for Leo. ‘I can get the tea if you’d like to keep off that foot. I got fairly handy while I was at Wongarben,’ Ian said.
‘I’m not that useless, but thanks anyway. Judy left a big cake – it’s in that red tin in the cupboard,’ Leo pointed towards a large walnut dresser. ‘I don’t mind a beer at night, but there’s nothing like a drink o’ tea during the day. I suppose you learnt to drink at Wongarben?’
‘Not really. Mr Murray was fairly strict. The other jackaroos, Harry and Tim, used to drink a bit. They liked B & S balls and always came back looking very seedy,’ Ian said.
‘And what did you do while Harry and Tim were away chasing girls?’ Leo asked as he filled the kettle. ‘If Warren is anything like Murrawee, there isn’t much to keep young people busy in their free time.’
‘I used to go riding with Mrs Murray. She loved horses, and Mr Murray wasn’t so keen on them. He preferred his dogs – he had some good kelpies. I started to do a bit of study too, as well as a lot of reading, and a bit of writing,’ Ian said.
‘Is that a fact? I like a good yarn myself, especially the Upfield novels. But you mentioned writing. What kind of writing?’ asked Leo.
‘Stories about the bush – the landscape, the animals,’ Ian said quietly. ‘English was one of my best subjects at school.’ He could have added that he was Harrow’s finest student, but that was not his way. His grandfather had advised him never to blow his own trumpet, and especially not in Australia. Ian could also have said that he had spent what little spare time he had in his final year studying Australia’s wool industry.