How Do I Love Thee? Page 27

  Tomas quickly translated the words into his father’s ear.

  Silvio Roberto looked deeply into Liz’s eyes. She felt the blood pounding in her heart. Slowly, he nodded, and said, ‘You will love my empanada salteña. It is two kinds of special meats, lamb and beef, and some chickens with chives and raisins and potatoes cut into small, with hot pepper sauce and all baked in bread dough. Yes?’

  She reached across, and shook his hand. It was a strong hand. Warm and gentle yet with a manly vigour.

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  A MUCH-NEEDED WIFE

  ANNA JACOBS

  ‘I love thee to the level of every day’s

  Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light’

  AUSTRALIA, 1924

  The ship docked in Western Australia on a hot summer’s day in January, seven weeks after leaving England. The settlers crowded by the rails to see their new country. Maggie Spencer hugged her husband, Bill, then eight-year-old Jenny. Peter stepped back hastily. At ten, he considered himself too old to cuddle.

  It was hours before they were allowed to disembark because of medical and customs checks. The group was then herded into a battered old charabanc and driven to the Immigrants’ Home in South Fremantle.

  There the women and girls slept in dormitories while the men and boys slept outside on the enclosed verandah. Food was plain but plentiful, and the women were expected to help with chores like washing up.

  What with sunny weather and blue skies, it seemed as if they really had come to a land of milk and honey. Perhaps Bill had been right in persuading her to come here, Maggie thought, but she didn’t tell him that, not yet.

  A few days later they were notified that their group of settlers would be leaving for Pemberton the next morning by train.

  ‘Now it really begins,’ Bill said gleefully.

  Maggie murmured agreement, still worried by how easy he seemed to think it would be to clear the forest and set up a brand-new dairy farm. The government might be giving them the land, but it’d be hard work, she was sure. And few things ever went smoothly for Bill. His misery when schemes failed was hard to live with.

  She prayed this country would give him whatever it was he’d been searching for all his life. If so, she’d be happy, even though she’d miss her mother and sisters dreadfully.

  The journey seemed to go on forever. It was so hot they grew thirsty quickly. The train stopped several times and they bought pies, cakes and cups of dark, stewed tea.

  They didn’t arrive at Pemberton until after eleven that night. The Citizens’ Voluntary Committee greeted them with sandwiches and cups of tea made in a big square tin labelled ‘Laurel Kerosene’ and dipped out by a jug.

  ‘Where do we sleep?’ Bill asked the man in charge.

  ‘In the railway carriages, mate.’

  ‘What? You must be joking. We need a wash and a proper bed.’

  ‘Can’t wave a magic wand for you. There isn’t anywhere else to sleep.’

  Maggie tugged Bill’s arm. ‘Let’s go and make ourselves as comfortable as we can.’

  He muttered angrily as they walked back to their compartment, going on for so long that Maggie forgot her rule about never arguing in front of the children.

  ‘Just shut up, Bill Spencer! I want to get some sleep, even if you don’t. What can’t be cured must be endured—and cheerfully wouldn’t hurt.’

  ‘But they’re treating us shamefully.’

  ‘They’ve not got anywhere to house us. We’ll manage all right in the carriage. Come on, Jenny. We’ll go to the lavatory first.’ She walked off with her daughter.

  Maggie pretended to fall asleep quickly, like the children, but lay awake for a long time. Bill fidgeted beside her then gradually started to breathe more deeply, snoring lightly. She was tired of coaxing and cajoling him. It felt sometimes as if she had another child to look after instead of a husband.

  Worst of all, he hadn’t wanted to make love to her since he’d first fought in France. She sighed. She had no-one to turn to for comfort and advice here, and it was such a long way from home. It’d be nice to have someone to comfort her instead of having to be the strong, sensible one all the time.

  Five hours later a man with a handbell woke them. The morning was cool and misty. They were given tea and bacon sandwiches for breakfast, and other sandwiches in brown paper bags for later.

  Maggie went to thank the tired woman serving the tea then stayed to chat. ‘Have you had many group settlers come through?’

  ‘A few.’ Her companion hesitated, then added, ‘They’ve not got all the temporary shacks built yet, let alone the farmhouses. You might find yourselves sleeping in tents for a while. Still, it’s not too cold at night this time of year, and it doesn’t rain much in summer, so you’ll be all right.’

  ‘Oh.’

  The woman gave her a wry look. ‘You’re the one with the complaining husband.’

  Maggie could feel herself blushing.

  ‘Your man can shout as much as he likes, but it takes time to build huts—which the government should have realised. It’s not our fault they sent you too soon. We’re doing our best to make you welcome.’

  ‘I can see that. And I’m sorry Bill made such a fuss. He’s—um—a bit tired.’

  As she walked away, she heard the woman say, ‘She seems nice, pretty too. I don’t envy her with that husband though.’

  They were helped up into the backs of three motor vehicles that people here called ‘trucks’.

  The roads were the worst Maggie had ever seen in her life, and several times a truck would get stuck, then everyone had to get out while the men pushed it out of the hole. But the trees, ah, they lifted her spirits. So tall and beautiful, shedding a pleasant dappled light over everything.

  ‘Did you ever see such wonderful trees?’ she whispered to Bill.

  ‘Damned things! They’ll be the devil to fell. Look at that monster!’

  They were passing a tree stump on which six people could easily have stood. She wished she’d seen the tree when it was alive. It must have been magnificent.

  Maggie chatted to an older woman with a worn face sitting beside her. Elsie had come here with her husband and six children—the eldest a lad of sixteen, the youngest only three years old.

  ‘It’s for them I came.’ Elsie looked down fondly at the little girl sleeping on her lap. ‘Mick and I want to give them a better start in life than we had.’

  It took three hours to get to Northcliffe, the sight of which shocked everyone into silence. It wasn’t a town at all, just an expanse of cleared land. There was a store run by the Manjimup Trading Company—little more than a tin shed with a tent next to it—and no other buildings at all.

  Disappointment seared through Maggie. She’d expected a church, shops, people to talk to, not a patch of flattened earth. Worried about her children, she forced a smile. ‘Fancy seeing a town before it’s built. We’ll remember this day, won’t we, when this is a street with buildings along it?’

  Jenny and Peter looked at her doubtfully. Bill opened his mouth, caught her eye and sniffed scornfully.

  Since people were desperate to go to the lavatory, they were directed to a site shielded discreetly from view by a fence of hessian tacked to poles. Behind it was a trench with a pole across it to sit on. A young woman started sobbing, saying she couldn’t go in a place like this.

  What choice did they have? Maggie forced herself to speak cheerfully to Jenny as they both did what they had to.

  Back at the truck they found the man from the store with an enamel bucket of hot, black tea and thick chunks of bread spread with jam but no butter.

  ‘Eat up quickly,’ their driver called. ‘We need to get a move on so you’ll be settled by nightfall. The government will be providing your basic food for the next couple of weeks, but you ladies may want to buy a few extra bits and pieces as well. You’ll be nearly three miles from the shop.’

  Maggie turned to Bill. ‘I’ll need some money.’

/>   ‘I’ll come with you. I don’t want you wasting it on luxuries.’

  She held back her anger—just. She hated the way he wouldn’t give her any money, doling it out when she needed to buy something. And he hadn’t even asked how she was feeling.

  The trucks stopped at a big clearing. Beyond it to one side was forest, to the other a waste land, where trees had been felled, leaving huge trunks and branches still lying on the ground. Everyone looked around in puzzlement.

  ‘Why are we stopping here?’ someone asked the driver.

  ‘This is the land your group’s been allocated.’

  ‘But most of it’s still covered in trees!’

  ‘There’s some cleared land and the government will pay you by the acre to clear the rest.’

  Dead silence greeted this information. They’d known this in theory, but hadn’t realised how big some trees would be.

  A man came towards them smiling, about forty, looking strong and capable. ‘I’m Ted Riley, foreman for your group.’

  Bill scowled at him. ‘Where are we going to live? They said there would be houses.’

  ‘We build temporary huts ourselves, then later on teams of carpenters will build proper houses. For now, there are some tents.’

  When they were all standing in a circle around him, he said, ‘We’ll need to work quickly to erect the tents before nightfall. They’ve only just delivered them. They sent the materials for the huts before the tents.’ He pointed to a pile of corrugated-iron sheets and timber. ‘Stupid, but that’s the clerks in Perth for you! The men will be paid a daily rate for their work. The ladies can help with the lighter work and do the cooking, and the older children can pitch in, too.’

  ‘What about schooling?’ one woman asked.

  ‘You need houses before schools. It won’t hurt them to miss a few months of lessons.’

  A few children cheered, only to be shushed by their parents.

  ‘Oh, and we also need to build two sets of latrines today, one for men, one for women. We’ll put hessian fences round them for privacy. Anyone have experience of putting up tents and digging latrines?’

  There was a laugh among the men, most of whom were ex-soldiers.

  By nightfall the Spencers were in their own tent, with stretcher beds set up on the dry, dusty earth. For bedding they each had a heavy bush rug known as a ‘bluey’. Everything would be paid off gradually, including the horse and cart, six cows and necessary equipment like cream separators which would arrive later.

  Maggie tried to get comfortable on her narrow canvas bed, looking at the dark shapes of her children to check they were all right. It was surprisingly cold at night, considering how warm the day had been. She could hear animal noises outside, frogs croaking in a nearby stream that Ted called a creek, and many other rustling sounds and calls.

  ‘Good night,’ she said into the darkness, but no-one answered even though she could tell Bill wasn’t asleep.

  The following morning they drew lots for the blocks of land, after which the foreman walked them around the whole area.

  Maggie was delighted to see a couple of tall karri trees near the edge of their block and went over to stroke their straight, smooth trunks. They were so big her arms didn’t reach round them.

  ‘These two are a couple of hundred years old,’ Ted said.

  ‘They’ll look pretty near the gate. We can call our farm Two Trees.’

  Ted looked up, assessing. ‘You’d better not put the gate right under them. Widow-makers, some call them. They drop branches without warning and the bigger ones weigh over a ton, so can kill people.’

  ‘I’ll be knocking down every damned tree on the place,’ Bill said. ‘This is a farm, not a bloody park.’

  She was fed up with him telling her what to do. ‘Not these two beauties, you won’t. It’ll look horrible without some trees.’

  Ted winked at Maggie. ‘Leave them where they are, mate. Giants like those are a bugger to fell and dynamiting the stumps is expensive.’

  Bill walked off. Maggie didn’t follow him.

  Ted chose a site for the temporary hut, which had to be close to the next block. Smaller families had to share a hut, though bigger families like Elsie’s got a whole one to themselves.

  In the evening they drew lots again as to whose hut would be built first. The Spencers’ name was drawn last of all.

  The next day, two men turned up in a truck with a cow in the back, provided by the authorities to help feed the group. They led it carefully down a ramp, then dumped some food for it and left.

  ‘One of you women will have to feed and milk her,’ Ted said. ‘I’ll show you how. Who wants the job?’

  There was dead silence, then Maggie said, ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Good for you. Come and meet Dolly.’ Patiently he explained what was needed. He’d no need to tell Maggie to keep everything scrupulously clean. Anyone brought up by her mother would do that automatically. The thought of her mother brought tears to her eyes.

  When they’d finished milking, he dipped a clean cup into the foaming, creamy liquid. ‘Here you are, Maggie. You’ve earned first taste.’

  She drank a mouthful then shared the rest with her children. Bill had walked off somewhere. ‘It’s lovely.’

  Ted smiled. ‘You’ll need to milk her morning and night, then share the milk out between the families. Keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t roam too far and clean up after her as well. The cow pats make good fertiliser and they’ll be your reward for doing this job. Get your kids to pile them up on your block and cover them to keep the flies down.’

  Maggie was left alone with her new charge. Dolly had lovely eyes and seemed placid, but was bigger than she’d expected. Everything was bigger in Australia, somehow.

  For the next few days the men worked from dawn to dusk and the children worked with them, mostly fetching and carrying or clearing the smaller shrubs and branches.

  One or two of the women did the minimum they could get away with, avoiding the dirty chores, so Maggie and her new friend, Elsie, organised a roster. Wood had to be fetched for the communal fire, water hauled up from the creek and food prepared, mostly tinned stuff from giant tins of corned beef or jam. Bread was provided every day by the shop.

  ‘We need some sort of table,’ Elsie told the foreman.

  He and two men rolled some logs across and dug the ends into the ground, then nailed some rough planks across the tops.

  ‘There’s your kitchen table. I’ll plane it then give you some sandpaper and you can smooth it down.’

  Maggie smiled at some women’s surprise. ‘What do we do about bread, Ted? Will the shop keep sending it?’

  ‘Just for these first two weeks. I’ll show you how to make damper in a camp oven, using bicarbonate of soda. It’s easy.’

  The man must have had the patience of a saint, because ‘ask the foreman’ was heard at regular intervals all day. How he kept smiling, Maggie didn’t know, but she reckoned they were lucky to have him. He always had a solution of some sort, even if it wasn’t what they were used to.

  Bill seemed happier now that he had something to do. The gangs of men worked hard building the temporary shacks because everyone was eager to have a proper roof over their heads.

  The women inspected the first finished shack in silence. It had two rooms about ten feet square and an earth floor. There were open gables at each end to let in the light and the doors were simply sheets of corrugated iron attached by wire hinges.

  Her aunty’s garden shed was better built than this! Maggie thought, trying to hide her dismay from the children. ‘It’ll be lovely to have a room to ourselves and a proper roof, won’t it, much better than a tent?’

  The families had to do their own cooking after they moved into the shacks, first on open fires, then on wood stoves delivered a couple of weeks later and placed temporarily out in the open. Later the stoves would be put into the houses. Maggie, who enjoyed cooking, set herself to learn about cooking on hers, grat
eful it didn’t seem to rain in summer.

  The main problem was bread. Damper didn’t keep well, and now they had stoves they should be able to make proper loaves. She’d always bought her bread from the corner shop, but had seen her mother make it.

  She went to consult Ted. ‘We need yeast and more flour. Should we go into town for those?’

  ‘The group next to yours makes bread with potato yeast. Why don’t a couple of you walk over and get them to show you how to make it? About time you met your neighbours. It’s only a mile or so away. I’ve got to go into town, so I’ll let them know you’re coming and bring back more supplies.’

  ‘I’d have enjoyed a visit to the shop,’ Maggie said wistfully.

  ‘You couldn’t carry the flour back. We usually buy it in 150-pound bags.’

  ‘I thought that was just for the group!’ one woman exclaimed.

  ‘No. Your sugar comes in 72-pound bags, tins of jam come by the case. You’ve got to keep a good supply of basic stores, living out here. You can’t be nipping to the shop all the time. It’s three miles and your husband will need the horse and cart for the felling. The carts will be arriving soon, by the way.’

  Maggie and Betty were chosen to go for a lesson on bread-making. As they walked, Betty complained non-stop about the primitive conditions. Maggie told herself to be patient. Betty was young and seemed to have been spoiled by doting parents.

  The other group was more settled in than theirs, and as she walked along the track Maggie saw that some people were even starting to make gardens. She turned off at the Oghams’ farm, as instructed, and an older woman called Jean came to greet them.

  ‘I’ve waited to show you how to make the yeast, but it’s put me behind in my chores, so let’s get on with it. I’ve usually got my bread in the oven by now.’

  She poured water from strained potatoes onto dried hop leaves. After this had cooled, it was strained again. She added three dessert spoons each of flour and sugar to the liquid, together with a starter saved from the previous batch. They stayed to watch the whole process and waited patiently for the beautifully risen loaves to cook.