فصل 01

I

Money in rabbits! At recent sales in Sydney best furred fullgrown bucks made 19s 11d per pound, the highest price I ever heard of in Australia. The percentage of top pelts would be small, but at about five to the pound just on 4s each is a remarkable return.

The Man on the Land, Bulletin, Australia, 10 July 1946

Australia, 1946

Four weeks to embarkation

Letty McHugh halted the pickup truck, wiped nonexistent soot from under her eyes, and noted that on a woman with handsome features, as the saleswoman had tactfully defined hers, Cherry Blossom lipstick was never going to alter much. She rubbed briskly at her lips, feeling stupid for having bought it at all. Then, less than a minute later, she reached into her bag and carefully reapplied it, grimacing at her reflection in the rearview mirror.

She straightened her blouse, picked up the letters she had collected on her weekly visit to the post office and peered out at the blurred landscape through the windscreen. The rain probably wouldnt let up no matter how long she waited. She pulled a piece of tarpaulin over her head and shoulders and, with a gasp, leapt out of the truck and ran for the house.

Margaret? Maggie?

The screen door slammed behind her, muffling the insistent timpani of the deluge outside, but only her own voice and the sound of her good shoes on the floorboards echoed back at her. Letty checked her handbag, then wiped her feet and walked into the kitchen, calling a couple more times, even though she suspected that no one was in. Maggie? You there?

The kitchen, as was usual since Noreen had gone, was empty. Letty put her handbag and the letters on the scrubbed wooden table and went to the stove, where a stew was simmering. She lifted the lid and sniffed. Then, guiltily, she reached into the cupboard and added a pinch of salt, some cumin and cornflour, stirred, then replaced the lid.

She went to the little liverspotted mirror by the medicine cupboard and tried to smooth her hair, which had already begun to frizz in the moisturefilled air. She could barely see all of her face at once the Donleavy family could never be accused of vanity, that was for sure.

She rubbed again at her lips, then turned back to the kitchen, her solitude allowing her to see it with a dispassionate eye. She surveyed the linoleum, cracked and ingrained with years of agricultural dirt that wouldnt lift, no matter how many times it was mopped and swept. Her sister had planned to replace it, had even shown Letty the design she fancied, in a book sent all the way from Perth. She took in the faded paintwork, the calendar that marked only this or that agricultural show, the arrival of vets, buyers or grain salesmen, the dogs baskets with their filthy old blankets lined up round the range, and the packet of Bluo for the mens shirts, spilling its grains on to the bleached work surface. The only sign of any female influence was a copy of Glamor magazine, its straplines advertising a new story by Daphne du Maurier, and an article entitled Would You Marry A Foreigner?. The pages, she noted, had been heavily thumbed.

Margaret?

She glanced at the clock the men would be in shortly for lunch. She walked to the coathooks by the back door and pulled off an old stockmans jacket, wincing at the smell of tar and wet dog that, she knew, would linger on her clothes.

The rain was now so heavy that in places around the yard it ran in rivers the drains gurgled a protest, and the chickens huddled in ruffled groups under the shrubs. Letty cursed herself for not having brought her gumboots but ran from the back door of the house to the yard and round to the back of the barn. There, as she had half expected, she made out what looked like a brown oilproofed lump on a horse, circling the paddock, no face visible under the widebrimmed hat that fell down to the collar, almost mirrored with slick channels of rainwater.

Margaret! Letty stood under the eaves of the barn and shouted to be heard over the rain, waving halfheartedly.

The horse was plainly fed up its tail clamped to its soaking hindquarters, it was tiptoeing sideways round the fence, occasionally cowkicking in frustration while its rider patiently turned it to begin each painstaking manoeuvre again.

Maggie!

At one point it bucked. Lettys heart lurched and her hand flew to her mouth. But the rider was neither unseated nor concerned, and merely booted the animal forwards, muttering something that might or might not have been an admonishment.

For Gods sake, Maggie, will you get over here!

The brim of the hat lifted and a hand was raised in greeting. The horse was steered round and walked towards the gate, its head low. Been there long, Letty? she called.

Are you insane, girl? What on earth do you think youre doing? She could see her nieces broad grin under the brim of the hat.

Just a bit of schooling. Dads too big to ride her and the boys are useless with her, so theres only me. Moody old girl, isnt she?

Letty shook her head, exasperated, and motioned for Margaret to dismount. For goodness sake, child. Do you want a hand getting off?

Hah! No, Im fine. Is it lunchtime yet? I put some stew on earlier, but I dont know what time theyll be in. Theyre moving the calves down to Yarrawa Creek, and they can be all day down there.

Theyll not be all day in this weather, Letty responded, as Margaret clambered down inelegantly from the horse and landed heavily on her feet. Unless theyre as insane as you are.

Ah, dont fuss. She looks worse than she is.

Youre soaked. Look at you! I cant believe youd even consider riding out in this weather. Good gracious, Maggie, I dont know what you think youre doing . . . What your dear mother would say, God only knows.

There was a brief pause.

I know . . . Margaret wrinkled her nose as she reached up to undo the girth.

Letty wondered if she had said too much. She hesitated, then bit back the awkward apology that had sprung to her lips. I didnt mean—

Forget it. Youre right, Letty, said the girl, as she swung the saddle easily under her arm. She wouldnt have had this mare doing circles to balance her up. Shed have put her in a pair of side reins and be done with it.

The men returned shortly before one oclock, arriving in a thunderous cluster of wet overshoes and dripping hats, shedding their coats at the door. Margaret had set the table and was dishing up steaming bowls of beef stew.

Colm, youve still got mud all the way up the back of your heels, said Letty, and the young man obligingly kicked off his boots on the mat rather than waste time trying to clean them.

Got any bread with that?

Give us a chance, boys. Im going as fast as I can.

Maggie, your dogs asleep in Dads old hat, said Daniel, grinning. Dad says if he gets fleas off it hell shoot her.

I said no such thing, eejit child. How are you, Letty? Did you get up to town yesterday? Murray Donleavy, a towering, angular man whose freckles and pale eyes signalled his Celtic origins, sat down at the head of the table and, without comment, began to work his way through a hunk of bread that his sisterinlaw had sliced for him.

I did, Murray.

Any post for us?

Ill bring it out after youve eaten. Otherwise, the way these men sat at a table, the letters would be splashed with gravy and fingered with greasemarks. Noreen had never seemed to mind.

Margaret had had her lunch already, and was sitting on the easy chair by the larder, her socked feet on a footstool. Letty watched the men settle, with private satisfaction, as they lowered their heads to eat. Not many families, these days, could boast five men round a table with three of them having been in the services. As Murray muttered to Daniel, his youngest, to pass more bread, Letty could still detect a hint of the Irish accent with which he had arrived in the country. Her sister had occasionally mocked it goodhumouredly. That one! shed say, her accent curled round a poor approximation of his own. Hes got more fight in him than a Dundalk wedding.

No, this table lacked someone else entirely. She sighed, pushing Noreen from her thoughts, as she did countless times every day. Then she said brightly, Alf Pettits wife has bought one of those new Defender refrigerators. Its got four drawers and an icemaker, and doesnt make a sound.

Unlike Alf Pettits wife, said Murray. He had pulled over the latest copy of the Bulletin, and was deep in The Man on the Land, its farming column. Hmph. Says here that dairy yards are getting dirtier because all the women are quitting.

Theyve obviously never seen the state of Maggies room.

You make this? Murray lifted his head from his newspaper and jerked a thumb at his bowl, which was nearly empty.

Maggie did, said Letty.

Nice. Better than the last one.

I dont know why, said Margaret, her hand held out in front of her the better to examine a splinter. I didnt do anything any different.

Theres a new picture starting at the Odeon, Letty said, changing the subject. That got their attention. She knew the men pretended not to be interested in the snippets of gossip she brought to the farm twice a week, gossip being the stuff of women, but every now and then the mask of indifference slipped. She rested against the sink, arms crossed over her chest.

Well?

Its a war film. Greer Garson and Tyrone Power. I forget the name. Something with Forever in it?

I hope its got lots of fighter planes. American ones. Daniel glanced at his brothers, apparently searching for agreement, but their heads were down as they shovelled food into their mouths.

How are you going to get to Woodside, shortarse? Your bikes broke, if you remember. Liam shoved him.

Hes not cycling all that way by himself, whatever, said Murray.

One of youse can take me in the truck. Ah, go on. Ill pay for your ices.

How many rabbits you sell this week?

Daniel had been raising extra cash by skinning rabbits and selling the pelts. The price of good ones had risen inexplicably from a penny each to several shillings, which had left his brothers mildly envious of his sudden wealth.

Only four.

Well, thats my best price.

Oh, Murray, Betty says to tell you their good mare is in foal finally, if youre still interested.

The one they put to the Magician?

I think so.

Murray exchanged a glance with his eldest son. Might swing by there later in the week, Colm. Be good to have a decent horse around the place.

Which reminds me. Letty took a deep breath. I found Margaret riding that mean young filly of yours. I dont think she should be riding. Its not . . . safe.

Murray didnt look up from his stew. Shes a grown woman, Letty. Well have little or no say over her life soon enough.

Youve no need to fuss, Letty. I know what Im doing.

Shes a meanlooking horse. Letty began to wash up, feeling vaguely undermined. Im just saying I dont think Noreen would have liked it. Not with things . . . the way they are . . .

The mention of her sisters name brought with it a brief, melancholy silence.

Murray pushed his empty bowl to the centre of the table. Its good of you to concern yourself about us, Letty. Dont think were not grateful.

If the boys noted the look that passed between the two olds, as they were known, or that their aunt Lettys was followed by the faintest pinking of her cheeks, they said nothing. Just as they had said nothing when, several months previously, she had started to wear her good skirt to visit them. Or that, in her midforties, she was suddenly setting her hair.

Margaret, meanwhile, had risen from her chair and was flicking through the letters that lay on the sideboard beside Lettys bag. Bloody hell! she exclaimed.

Margaret!

Sorry, Letty. Look! Look, Dad, its for me! From the Navy!

Her father motioned for her to bring it over. He turned the envelope in his broad hands, noting the official stamp, the return address. Want me to open it?

Hes not dead, is he? Daniel yelped as Colms hand caught him a sharp blow to the back of the head.

Dont be even more of a mongrel than you already are.

You dont think hes dead, do you? Margaret reached out to steady herself, her normally high colour draining away.

Course hes not dead, her father said. They send you a wire for that.

They might have wanted to save on postage but— Daniel shot backwards on his chair to avoid an energetic kick from his elder brother.

I was going to wait until youd all finished eating, Letty said, and was ignored.

Go on, then, Mags. What are you waiting for?

I dont know, said the girl, apparently now in an agony of indecision.

Go on, were all here. Her father reached out a comforting hand and laid it on her back.

She looked at him, then down at the letter, which she now held. Her brothers were on their feet, standing tightly around her. Letty, watching from the sink, felt superfluous, as if she were an outsider. To hide her own discomfort she busied herself scrubbing a pan, her broad fingers reddening in the scalding water.

Margaret ripped open the letter, and began to read it, murmuring the words under her breath, a habit she had held since childhood. Then she gave a little moan, and Letty whirled round to see her sit down heavily on a chair that one of her brothers had pushed out for her. She looked at her father, apparently griefstricken.

You all right, girl? His face was creased with anxiety.

Im going, Dad, she croaked.

What? To Ireland? said Daniel, snatching the letter.

No. To England. Theyve got me aboard a ship. Oh, my God, Dad.

Margaret! Letty admonished her, but no one heard.

Mags is going to England! Her older brother read the letter. Shes really going! Theyve actually managed to squeeze her on!

Less of your cheek, said Margaret, but her heart wasnt in it.

Due to the change in status of another war bride, we can offer you a passage on the— What does that spell? Will leave from Sydney blahblahblah.

Change in status? What do you suppose happened to that poor soul, then? Niall scoffed.

Its possible the husband might have been married already. It happens, you know.

Letty! Murray protested.

Well, its true, Murray. All sorts has happened. You only have to read the papers. Ive heard of girls whove gone all the way to America to be told theyre not wanted. Some with . . . She tailed off.

Joes not like that, said Murray. We all know hes not like that.

Besides, said Colm cheerfully, when he married Mags I told him if he ever let her down Id hunt him down and kill him.

You did that too? said Niall, surprised.

God, said Margaret, ignoring her aunt but crossing herself in mute apology. With you lot looking after me its a wonder he stuck around at all.

A hush descended as the import of the letter settled on the occupants of the room. Margaret took her fathers hand and held it tightly, while the others affected not to notice.

Does anyone want tea? said Letty. A lump had risen in her throat she had been picturing the kitchen without Margaret in it. There were several subdued murmurs of assent.

Theres no guarantee youre getting a cabin, mind, said Niall, still reading.

They could store her with the luggage, said Liam. Shes tough as old hide.

Is that it? said Daniel, who, Letty saw, looked profoundly shocked. I mean, do you go to England and thats it?

Thats it, said Margaret, quietly.

But what about us? said Daniel, his voice breaking, as if he had not yet taken seriously his sisters marriage or its possible ramifications. We cant lose Mum and Mags. I mean, what are we supposed to do?

Letty made to speak and found she had no words.

Across the table, Murray had been sitting in silence, his hand entwined with his daughters. We, son, are to be glad.

What?

Murray smiled reassuringly at his daughter – a smile that Letty could not believe he truly felt. We are going to be glad, because Margaret is going to be with a good man. A man whos fought for his country and ours. A man who deserves to be with our Margaret just as much as she deserves him.

Oh, Dad. Margaret dabbed at her eyes.

And more importantly, here his voice rose, as if to stave off interruption, we should be glad as anything because Joes grandfather was an Irishman. And that means . . . he laid a roughened hand gently on his daughters expanded belly . . . this little fellow here is going to set foot, God willing, in Gods own country.

Oh, Murray, whispered Letty, her hand pressed to her mouth.

Brace yourself, lads, muttered Colm to his brothers, and began to pull on his boots, were in for an evening of Oh Danny Boy.

They had run out of places to put wet washing. The indoor dryer was loaded to the point where it threatened to pull down the ceiling damp linen hung from every indoor hook and cable, pegged to hangers hooked over the tops of doors or laid flat on towels on work surfaces. Margaret hauled another wet undershirt from the bucket and handed it to her aunt, who fed the hem into the mangle and began to turn the handle.

Its because nothing dried yesterday, Margaret said. I didnt get the stuff off the line in time so it was soaked again, and I still had lots more to do.

Why dont you sit down, Maggie? Letty said, eyeing her legs. Take the weight off your feet for a minute or two.

Margaret sank gratefully into the chair in the laundry room, and reached down to stroke the terrier that sat by her side. I could put some in the bathroom, but Dad hates that.

You know you should rest. Most women have their feet up by now.

Ah, theres ages yet, Margaret said.

Less than twelve weeks, by my reckoning.

African women just drop them behind a bush and carry on working.

Youre not African. And I doubt anyone drops a baby like theyre . . . Letty was conscious of her inability to talk of childbirth with any authority. She continued wringing in silence, the rain drumming noisily on the tin roof of the outhouse, the sweet smell of newly drenched earth rising up through the open windows. The mangle squeaked, a geriatric creature forced unwillingly into effort.

Daniels taken it worse than I thought, Margaret said eventually.

Letty continued to work the handle, grunting as she hauled it towards her. Hes still young. Hes had a lot to deal with this past couple of years.

But hes really angry. I didnt expect him to be angry.

Letty paused. He feels let down, I suppose. What with losing his mum and you . . .

Its not like I did it on purpose. Margaret thought of her brothers outburst, of the words selfish and hateful hurled at her in temper until the flat of her fathers hand brought the diatribe to an abrupt halt.

I know, said Letty, stopping and straightening. They know it too. Even Daniel.

But when Joe and I got married, you know, I didnt think about leaving Dad and the boys. I didnt think anyone would mind too much.

Of course they mind. They love you.

I didnt mind when Niall went.

That was war. You knew he had to go.

But whos going to look after them all? Dad can just about press a shirt or wash the dishes, if he has to, but theres not one of them can put together a meal. And theyd leave the sheets on their beds until they walked themselves to the linen basket.

As she spoke, Margaret began almost to believe in this picture of herself as a domestic lynchpin, which position she had held with quiet resentment for the past two years. She had never anticipated having to cook and clean for anyone. Even Joe had understood when she told him she was hopeless at it and, more importantly, had no intention of remedying the situation. Now, forced to spend hours of every day tending the brothers she had once treated as equals, grief, guilt and mute fury fought within her. Its a huge worry, Letty. I really think they wont be able to cope without . . . well, a woman around the place.

There was a lengthy silence. The dog whined in her sleep, her legs paddling in some unseen chase.

I suppose they could get someone in, like a housekeeper, said Letty eventually, her voice deceptively light.

Dad wouldnt want to pay for that. You know how he goes on about saving money. And, besides, I dont think any of them would like a stranger in the kitchen. You know what theyre like. She sneaked a glance at her aunt. Niall hasnt liked anyone new being around since he came back from the camps. Oh, I dont know . . .

Outside, the rain was easing off. The drumming on the roof had lightened, and small patches of blue could be seen amid the grey clouds towards the east. The two women were silent for a few minutes, each apparently absorbed in the view from the screened window.

When no answer was forthcoming, Margaret spoke again Actually, Im wondering whether I should leave at all. I mean, theres no point in going if Im going to spend my whole time worrying about the family, is there?

She waited for her aunt to speak. When nothing came, she continued, Because I—

I suppose, Letty ventured, that I could help out.

What?

Dont say what, dear. If youre that worried about them all, Lettys voice was measured, I might be able to come most days. Just to help out a bit.

Oh, Letty, would you? Margaret had ensured that her voice held just the right amount of surprise, just the right level of gratitude.

I wouldnt want to be treading on anyones toes.

No . . . no . . . of course not.

I wouldnt want you or the boys thinking . . . that I was trying to take your mothers place.

Oh, I dont think anyone would think that.

Both women digested what had finally been said aloud.

There might be people who will . . . interpret things the wrong way. People in town and suchlike. Letty smoothed her hair unconsciously.

Yes, there might, said Margaret, still looking deadly serious.

But, then, its not like Ive got a job or anything. Not now theyve shut the munitions factory. And family should come first.

It certainly should.

I mean, those boys need a feminine influence. Daniel especially. Hes at that age . . . And its not like Im doing anything wrong. Anything . . . you know . . .

If Margaret noticed the faint blush of pleasure creeping across her aunts face she said nothing. If there was something else in her aunts face, in the new lipstick, that made Margaret feel a little more complicated about the arrangement, she made a game attempt to push it away. If the price of her own guiltless freedom was for her mothers place to be usurped, she would be careful only to see the benefits.

Lettys angular face was lit now by a smile. In that case, dear, if it will help you, Ill take good care of them all, she said. And Maudie there. Ill take good care of her. You wont need to worry.

Oh, Im not worried about her. Margaret raised herself with an effort. Im going to—

Yes, Ill make sure theyre all all right, Letty continued. Anticipation had apparently made her garrulous. If it will really make you feel a little easier in yourself, Maggie dear, Ill do what I can. Yes, you wont need to worry about a thing. Suddenly galvanised, she wrung out the last shirt by hand and dumped it in the washing basket, ready for the next drying session.

She wiped her large, bony hands on her apron. Right. Now. Why dont I go and make us both a cup of tea? You write your letter to the Navy, telling them youll accept, and then well know youre all set. You dont want to miss your place, do you? Not like that other poor soul.

Margaret made her smile seem readier than it felt. The Glamor article had said she might never see any of them again. You had to be ready for that.

Tell you what, Maggie, Ill go through your drawers upstairs. See if theres anything I can darn for you. I know youre not the best with a needle, and well want you to look as nice as pie when you see Joe again.

You were not to resent them, the magazine had said. You had to make sure you never blamed your husband for separating you from your family. Her aunt was now hauling the basket across the room with the same proprietorial familiarity as her mother once had.

Margaret shut her eyes and breathed deeply as Lettys voice echoed across the laundry room I might fix up a few of your fathers shirts, while Im at it. I couldnt help noticing, dear, that theyre looking a bit tired, and I wouldnt want anyone saying I dont . . . She shot a sideways look at Margaret. Ill make sure everythings shipshape here. Oh, yes. You wont need to worry about a thing.

Margaret didnt want to think of them on their own. Better this way than with someone she didnt know.

Maggie?

Mm?

Do you think . . . do you think your father will mind about it? I mean, about me? Lettys face was suddenly anxious, her fortyfiveyearold features as open as those of a young bride.

Afterwards, on the many nights when she thought back, Margaret wasnt sure what had made her say it. She wasnt a mean person. She didnt want either Letty or her father to be lonely, after all.

I think hell be delighted, she said, reaching down to her little dog. Hes very fond of you, Letty, as are the boys. She looked down and coughed, examining the splinter on her hand. Hes often said he looks on you like . . . a kind of sister. Someone who can talk to him about Mum, who remembers what she was like . . . And, of course, if youre washing their shirts for them youll have their undying gratitude. For some reason it was impossible to look up but she was aware of the acute stillness of Lettys skirts, of her thin, strong legs, as she stood a few feet away. Her hands, habitually active, hung motionless against her apron.

Yes, Letty said at last. Of course. There was a slight choke in her voice. Well. As I said. Ill – Ill go and make us that tea.