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March the first was a great day, the first day of autumn, after a long hot summer. It was the day Hannah and Archibald packed up their belongings into two of Tom McVey’s timber harbour boats. With a willing crew of oarsman from the engineering works they set out to row across to Balmain jetty. Archibald went to grab an oar. John Buller, his best mate, pushed him aside. “No you don’t. Mostly you work twice as hard as all of us. Today you ride as a gentleman, in style, with your family.”
Their arrival had a holiday feel. They all sweated as they lugged their possessions up the path, to the crest of the hill where the house sat, nestled in a flat space amongst sandstone boulders and a few knurled trees. First up Archibald nailed the metal name plate, Roisin, which he and Tom had crafted in the forge, onto the front wall of the house, next to the door. They all cheered and the adults drank a dram of whisky to celebrate this momentous occasion of having a house of their own. Then, under Hannah’s direction, they placed their goods into the different rooms.
There was a cleared space in front of the house which looked across the water, a view part hidden by spiky trees. Here Mary and Hannah set up a picnic. They ate cold meat, bread and cakes, along with lemonade for the children and tea for the adults. John Buller’s lad, Charles, was of an age with their James. So the two egged each other into mischief and young Archibald tagged along, trying to keep up.
“Well, it’s a fine place you have here,” said Tom. “I am sure it will be good to you. Mary and I are even thinking of buying a block here ourselves. While we love our house near the yard we don’t need to live so close anymore, and your friend, John here, is married with one cheeky rascal and another on the way. So, we thought, he could take over our place and keep an eye on the yard. Perhaps we could buy land a few hundred yards over there, on the other side of the ridge, where we can look out to Goat Island. I love that view straight up the harbour. As the years roll on, I see myself with my pipe, sitting there watching the water sparkle as ships come and go.”
Hannah replied, before Archibald could say a word, “We would love that. While you are both off at work Mary and I will be ladies of leisure.”
So, while Archibald went to work each day in the yard, Hannah worked to bring order to her new house and the bushland that surrounded it. Before long she established a garden behind the house and built a brush fence to keep out the wallabies, which otherwise ate all her vegetables. It held a mixture of plants; some she knew from Scotland like potatoes, cabbage and turnips, and other plants she had not known before but that other people suggested she grow, tomatoes and cucumbers were two she loved. Already two climbing roses, one each side of the front door, one pink, one yellow, with their stems pointing skywards, emphasised the name, ‘Roisin’. Each morning she admired them while polishing the name plate.
Hannah found this new land strange and foreign, particularly its different animals; the kookaburras still made her jump as they began to call, and she could not help a flash of anxiety at the large goannas and wallabies, though her boys found them fascinating. But she loved the bright light and glimpsed views of water through the trees.
One morning, as she worked in the garden, she saw a tall bearded man slowly walking up the path that passed alongside her house. His head was down and he appeared to be making detailed observation of the plants and rocks. They both happened to look up together. As was her friendly way, she hailed him. “Good day, you look like you are seeking something hidden in the long grass.”
“Seeking to discover all of nature’s secrets in this strange land,” he replied, with a heavily accented voice, German sounding, she thought. He introduced himself; “Mr Ludwig Leichhardt, at your disposal, madam.”
She found herself smiling at his formal, slightly shy manner. He asked her what she was planting in the garden. Then he told her he was just arrived for a month and still finding his way around. “You would not happen to have seen any aboriginals nearby? I am trying to find out about their customs”
She told him Tom’s words about them having abandoned this area. She said she thought there was a camp of them at the head of the bay.
For a few minutes they talked about life in Sydney as fellow new arrivals. He told her of his study and knowledge of the sciences across Europe and his desire to explore the interior of this vast continent.
She told him of her hopes for her family, the boys she had and the child soon to be born, and of her husband’s work in the shipyard.
He said he missed his family in Germany but was unable to return.
Soon he went on his way, absorbed again in all the detail of the strange and unfamiliar life of the place. Later in the day he passed again, thanking her for her direction and showing her an exquisite timber bowl that he had acquired from the aboriginal camp, traded for a knife. It was oval shaped, hollowed out from a single piece of timber, the size of Archibald’s hand, with ochre markings and etched patterns of animals on the outer rim. He insisted that she keep it, in thanks for her helpful advice.
Years later when he was famous and had achieved his dream, now feted as a great explorer, she would tell of its story and how it had come to her. It always sat in pride of place on the mantel, filled with rose blossoms, or other flowers when in bloom.
It was late June, mid-morning, when Hannah felt her contractions begin. She knew from before that her the baby was coming. Mary and Tom had just moved into their much larger house across the way, so she walked across to Mary’s house holding her belly.
Mary hitched the horse to a sulky and they drove to the infirmary, up where the new town centre was being built.
Soon a baby girl was delivered, much easier this time than the last, thought Hannah, remembering how long it had taken with her twins in Scotland. Remembering how her mother had been with her and helped at the last birth she decided this child would be named for her. She looked at the soft down on her baby’s head and all the past was forgotten.
In the late afternoon, as the light was fading, Mary met the two men at the timber wharf as their boat rowed in. “Well, look at the two of you, a fine pair you are, covered in soot and grime and all the stink of a day’s work. You need to get cleaned up, Arch, because you’re now the proud father of a new bairn, a little girl.
“Your wife said she is to be called Alison, after her mother. Mother and baby are fine. When you have washed off that muck from your day in the yards I will bring you up to see her. Come to our place as I have hot water for a scrub and clean clothes for you.”
Archibald’s heart skipped a beat, he knew the birth was near due but he thought there would be another week or two to go yet. Still he was glad that Mary had been there, in place of his or Hannah’s mother, and all seemed to have gone well, thanks be to God.
As he walked in to the infirmary room, two small boys holding his hands, he gulped. “You look so beautiful and radiant” he said to Hannah. He turned to the babe. “And who’s this wee mite? Alison I hear is to be your name, tis a beautiful name for a beautiful bairn. Boys, say hello to your little sister.”
He lifted them up so they all sat on the bed alongside Hannah and the two boys gently touched the tiny hands and face of the baby. Alison opened her eyes and gave a vacant watery look, with just the hint of a smile, before turning her head back into her mother’s breast.
Hannah felt the goodness of the moment flow over her, the daughter she had wanted, making her family complete, a continuance passed on from her own mother and grandmother.