Zanana 1921
Mrs Butterworth knew immediately Kate had fallen in love. And there was no mistaking that Ben was the object of her affections. The two were rarely apart. Walking demurely side by side but so close their arms brushed, they wandered about the gardens, oblivious to everyone. They sat together deep in conversation on Catherine’s rustic bench in the rose garden. They stole lingering kisses in the shadows of the grotto. Ben was always finding some excuse to come to the house, bringing fresh vegetables from the garden, newly laid eggs or a bouquet of wild flowers.
‘Do you think Sid and Nettie are aware that their son is besotted with Kate and she with him?’ Wally asked Mrs Butterworth one morning.
‘Probably not, though I’m sure they must know something is up with Ben, he has a silly smile on his face every minute of the day.’
‘How serious do you suppose it is? I mean, it can’t get too serious, can it?’
‘What do you mean, Wal?’ Mrs Butterworth stopped rolling out pastry on a long marble-topped bench and stared at him.
Wal put his cup down on the kitchen table. ‘Well, you know. She’s Kate and he’s . . . just Ben.’
‘Wal, get to the point!’
‘Kate is the heiress to Zanana. Ben is the . . . gardener. Isn’t that what you’d call him?’
Mrs Butterworth sat down at the table, pouring the remains of the teapot into her cup with floury hands. ‘I hadn’t thought it through like that. Oh dear, I suppose I should talk to Hock Lee.’
‘Maybe you should talk to Kate first.’
Mrs Butterworth looked for the right moment to have a little heart to heart chat with Kate but she just couldn’t seem to catch Kate alone or when she wasn’t flitting butterfly-like from task to task or flying off to see Ben.
Kate’s time and attention were divided between Ben and Zanana. She was more than happy that her plans for sharing Zanana with convalescing servicemen had proved to be a successful and fulfilling decision. Her love for Ben flowered daily and each day was one of joy she’d never known before.
She thought no further ahead than the next moment when she might see Ben — arranging to meet him at a particular time at the grotto, or coming around a corner of the house or garden and being surprised by him. Often Kate had an invalid soldier in tow and she and Ben would merely exchange a few words and a secret smile. But the light in their eyes, the tenderness in their voices, the conspiracy of their smile, made it patently obvious to everyone how fondly they felt towards one another.
Kate was humming as she carried a pile of freshly washed sheets smelling of sunshine to the great cedar linen cupboard. Mrs Butterworth, bustling along the hall, her head bent over a sheaf of papers, almost collided with her.
‘Oopsadaisy! Sorry, Kate, I wasn’t looking where I’m going . . . these eternal rosters and accounts.’ She smiled at her. ‘Need a hand there?’
Without waiting for an answer, Mrs Butterworth opened the set of floor-to-ceiling cupboard doors on the right of the linen room. The sweet smell of camphor laurel and lavender drifted from the wooden shelves of neatly starched and pressed bed linens. Kate put away the pile she was carrying and closed the doors.
‘I love this little room. Its smell always makes me think of the times I played hide-and-seek around the house.’
‘You and those games. You had poor Harold and me running from one end of this great place to another.’
Kate reached out and squeezed her arm. ‘They were special days. Growing up here with you and Dad were happy times. I always felt so safe and secure. You’ve been wonderful.’
‘We did our best, luv,’ Gladys said softly. ‘My goodness, you make it sound like you’re going away or something. Kate? I’ve been meaning to talk to you. About you and Ben.’
‘What about Ben?’ Kate demanded.
‘Now, Kate. I know you too well. How serious are you and Ben? It’s obvious you are both rather attached to one another. I assume he hasn’t discussed . . . marriage. I mean, it’s one thing to enjoy a little flirtation, but serious courtship is quite another. Especially for a girl in your position.’
‘What do you mean, Mum?’ Kate was genuinely surprised.
‘I mean you and Zanana. You’re the mistress of a big estate, an heiress. If your parents were alive today you’d be having grand balls and mixing with high society, meeting eligible young men.’
‘Oh, Mum. I don’t want any of that. Times are different now since the war.’
‘I don’t believe so, Kate. You have to be aware of your responsibilities, your inheritance, your future.’
‘My future will be here at Zanana. And Ben is as good a man as any so-called society bachelor. Anyway, there hasn’t been any mention of marriage. We just . . . enjoy one another’s company.’ Kate didn’t want to pursue the matter further. ‘I have to get Mr Hollingsworth, I left him in the garden. Don’t worry, Mum, there’s nothing to worry about.’
There was a slight edge to Kate’s voice and she moved away in unnecessary haste. Mrs Butterworth bit her lip. Nonetheless she decided to have a frank talk with Hock Lee.
She took him aside on his next visit and he listened attentively, his cherubic Chinese face betraying little expression.
‘You are quite right to be concerned, Mrs B. But we must take care we don’t make too much of what might be just a small infatuation. Kate can be stubborn and we could just push her along a path she has no intention of following to its conclusion. This is first love and no one can be told it isn’t the love of a lifetime. Unfortunately, Kate has had little experience of the outside world and young men.’
‘Hector Dashford was rather keen on her.’
‘I think Kate put the kibosh on that. And really, I wouldn’t like to see our Kate married to Hector, would you?’
‘Dear me, no. when I think back to that episode during the war . . . how Harold and Wally despised him for being such a coward and taking the credit away from Ben.’
‘Exactly. But who does that leave? We must get her out and about. She has to experience more of life and people — young people and not the older folk she mixes with here.’
‘The men do idolise her, Hock Lee.’
‘I know they do. And she genuinely enjoys their company and stories, but she should be having fun with people her own age. It’s not your fault, Gladys. I blame myself a bit. I tend to think of Kate as either a little girl or a very sensible and mature young woman, when really she is still a delicate rosebud. I’ve been too wrapped up in my work to pay attention to her blooming.’
‘I imagine your business is very demanding; I don’t know how you keep track of so many things.’
‘I’ve made it my life. When Robert died, I focused all my thoughts and energy into those projects — at the cost of my private life, I suppose,’ admitted Hock Lee sadly.
‘I often wondered why you never married. I didn’t like to pry.’
The now stout Hock Lee smoothed his still jet-black hair and smiled at Mrs Butterworth. ‘My parents did try to arrange a marriage for me, but I didn’t want that. Don’t get me wrong, the old ways work very well; but somehow I felt the responsibility of a family would be like dividing myself in two. Without realising it, I suppose I made the decision to carry on in the world I knew best. I haven’t regretted it — besides, Zanana and its family are part of my life too.’
Hock Lee and Mrs Butterworth discussed Kate’s future for some time, finally agreeing on a plan.
Hock Lee broached the subject with Kate, who immediately retaliated by saying, ‘You and Mum have been talking about me and you’ve hatched this together, haven’t you?’
‘Now, Kate, this is not some awful plot. We thought you’d be excited and happy at the idea of getting out into the world. You work far too hard here at Zanana; you should be buying pretty clothes, going to parties with other young ladies, travelling a little perhaps.’
‘Why?’ Kate asked stubbornly.
‘Because you cannot make any judgement about anything unless experience is part of that decision. It’s part of the process of living and growing.’
Kate told Ben of her conversation with Hock Lee. ‘He wants to arrange for me to mix in society in the city. I won’t do it,’ she declared firmly.
But she was surprised when Ben agreed with Hock Lee’s suggestion. ‘You should, too, Kate. You should have your photograph in the ladies’ magazines at swish parties and fancy dos — you know the sort of thing,’ he smiled.
‘And what about you? Maybe you should be out in the big wide world, socialising and seeing people your own age too,’ retorted Kate.
Ben didn’t reply and they changed the subject, both welcoming the sudden appearance of Sid, asking Ben to see to some yard work.
Kate fled to the rose garden feeling hurt and confused. Why didn’t anyone understand her feelings? Why did she feel so happy one moment and have such an ache and sense of questioning the next? Why did the years ahead seem like some misty strange path stretching into a land of shadows and worries? Sometimes she wanted her life to stay exactly as it was, other times she was filled with a longing for something more substantial that she could cling to, that would enfold her and keep her world safe, secure and sunny. At these times she thought of Ben’s strong arms about her, the sweet taste of his lips, the fresh grassy smell of his hair.
All Kate knew was that she loved Zanana and she loved Ben. They were inseparable.
She was miffed by Ben’s encouragement that she go along with Hock Lee’s plans for a social season in Sydney. The more she thought about it, the more a wilful stubborn streak of independence crept into her heart, and she finally announced to Hock Lee and Mrs Butterworth that they could go ahead and arrange whatever they wanted.
‘But that doesn’t mean I’m going to enjoy it all,’ she said with a toss of her head and a lift of her chin.
Mrs Butterworth smiled at Hock Lee as Kate sailed from the room. ‘You fix up for her to be part of the social season. She’ll have fun and enjoy herself, I feel sure.’
Hock Lee went to town in more ways than one to launch his beautiful goddaughter into the Sydney social scene. The twenties were promising to be a decade devoted to frivolity, fun and fast living. But befitting this shy young woman who was about to inherit one of the country’s great estates, he managed her unveiling with restraint and class.
Kate was given several options of places to live during her two months in Sydney, but she chose to stay in the guest rooms at Hock Lee’s Mosman mansion. His two sisters still lived at home and Kate felt far happier in familiar surroundings.
She was duly installed in a pastel celadon bedroom with its own deeper green sitting room and bathroom. Heavy Chinese antique furniture gleamed from assiduous polishing and on top of the bureau sat a Ming dynasty hand-painted bowl. Simply framed paintings of scenes of old China hung on a wall. Kate gazed at the delicate sweep of minimal strokes depicting snowy mountain peaks through frail leaves, a land far removed from the stunning harbour and blue, blue sky outside her big bay windows.
Hock Lee arranged for Kate to acquire a new wardrobe of the latest fashions — day dresses, suits, and lavish elegant evening wear. She spent days visiting the Sydney department stores of Marcus Clarke, Farmers, Mark Foys and David Jones. When they went to Melbourne for the Cup Races, she was whisked into Georges, the Myer Emporium and Buckley and Nunns. Other clothes were exquisitely tailored by two seamstresses from fabrics imported by Hock Lee’s emporium. He also insisted that she buy several Henderson hats and had a milliner copy some of the latest Paris styles.
Kate found herself immersed in a world of balls, parties, dinners and tea dances; of tennis, picnics, yachting, concerts and stage shows. It seemed to Kate she had been swept into a hive of self-satisfied bees who dipped, buzzed, swarmed and flitted from one flower to the next. For a while it was fun, great fun, but then it seemed to become terribly repetitive. The same people in more extravagant or more titillating ensembles, said the same things to the shifting circle of smiling, smirking faces; danced about each other flirting, teasing, and always laughing. Their lives seemed an endless frivolity with no serious thought for the day, let alone tomorrow or the years ahead.
Kate gazed at herself in the mirrored door of the lowboy, her vision blurred by the wisp of veil from her ribboned hat perched atop her upswept fair hair. Who was this elegant woman and where was she going today?
Pulling the hat from her head, Kate sat heavily on the edge of the bed, kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes in her pale lilac stockings. For a moment she couldn’t remember just where she was off to — ah yes, a charity picnic to watch the sculling races between the top public schools, followed by luncheon at Lady Bradstow’s residence at Point Piper. Kate was being escorted by the Governor’s handsome young aide-de-camp, lordy, what was his name? Ah yes, Bradley Fortescue-Stephens.
So many weeks of so many outings. Kate sighed. What on earth was she doing all this for? Admittedly some of it had been delightful and it had been fascinating to glimpse into the homes and lives of the wealthy and the titled. But to her mind, no house or garden was as beautiful as Zanana. She found she had no interest in being a permanent part of this dizzy world, though she couldn’t believe they lived like this all year. However, from her polite chatting with the other young women and their mothers, she realised that most of their year was devoted to the main social season and annual social highlights.
‘It must be hard for you, dear,’ sympathised Lady Elizabeth Worthington, one of the social-scene giants, at Lady Bradstow’s home. ‘Coming out in society is such a difficult business if one is to do it properly, and without your mother to help, you really are at a disadvantage. Mr Hock Lee has no doubt been quite useful but he is not exactly part of the scene, is he?’ She gushed on, ‘I mean, it really needs a woman’s touch; but I must say you are immensely popular and so pretty, I am sure you will do well’.
A string quartet started playing another Mozart piece. Lady Bradstow was famous for her Mozart luncheons during the social season. Such class, everyone said.
Kate sat quietly with her hands clasped in her lap, but she hardly heard the music. ‘Do very well?’ she thought. ‘I am doing well. I was doing well before I came to the city for all this carry-on. And when it comes to a woman’s touch, my Mum has probably done as much for me as any mother could — in things that really matter.’
She suddenly tried to place the portly, perpetually aproned Mrs Butterworth in the Point Piper living room and instead of it seeming ludicrous, the fantasy was like a flash of enlightenment. Mrs Butterworth was way above the shallow and superficial lives of these people. She had behind her a lifetime of devotion, service, loyalty and love — not only to Kate, but to Zanana and all that it stood for.
A ripple of applause signalled the end of the recital. Kate once again became aware of the demands of the occasion. The polite thank you and goodbye barely concealed her urgent need to get out of the vacuous atmosphere.
But she couldn’t escape without having to put up with yet more idle chat from one young man who had shared the entertainment. As she waited at the porch for the taxi cab to arrive, he raved on about the afternoon. ‘So civilised, don’t you think? Absolutely splendid way to pass an afternoon.’
The taxi arrived. He politely opened the door for her. ‘I say, are you going to tennis tomorrow at the Barlow-Jones’?’
‘Yes. I have accepted an invitation. I’m rather keen on tennis. I play it a lot with . . . oh, it doesn’t matter. I’ll see you tomorrow no doubt.’
‘Too right! Cheers!’
As the car swung up the gravelled driveway Kate thought of the one-armed soldiers she played tennis with at Zanana, and wondered what the young man would have thought had she told him about her partners. On the way home she found herself thinking quite objectively about the men of the social set that now dominated her life.
The city men talked about their professions in terms of who they knew and advancement and prospects, not in terms of fulfilment, or generosity or making some gesture towards the betterment of society. They were self-serving and ambitious in fields such as banking, law and politics or held some rank in one of the armed services or public service. But there was a selfishness about their attitudes that made Kate uncomfortable.
At first the flattery of the young men pleased her. But she soon discovered that flattery was a cheap currency in this society, lavishly dispensed and lightly accepted; all part of a game which no one was taking seriously. It began to annoy Kate.
And something else irked her. There was a determination by almost everyone to deny their Australian background. The opinions and attitudes reflected in conversation had more often than not been imported with the fashions. Extraordinary effort was made to be and sound very British. Cricket against the English seemed to be the only subject that permitted one to be Australian. Kate didn’t understand or appreciate cricket — which was one of the few things she found she shared with the other young women. Not surprisingly the men generally avoided talking cricket in the presence of the women.
Zanana fascinated them — or at least its size and wealth did. There was far less interest in the rehabilitation scheme that meant so much to Kate, and had been her life for several years.
‘You actually like working in the wards with those chaps?’ asked the incredulous young man who was her partner at the lawn tennis Sunday afternoon in Vaucluse. Curtis Lonigan was a junior executive from a big department store where he was being groomed for a director’s role by his major shareholding father. ‘I mean they must be rather boring fellows now after years in hospital. Anyway, you really should employ people to do that sort of work . . . nurses.’
‘We have nurses, but I spend most of my time doing rather personal things for the men . . . like just listening to them, having a chat over a cuppa . . . things like that. They treat me just like family,’ Kate explained, trying to keep her temper in control. ‘And no, they are not boring,’ she added firmly.
‘Well, what do you talk about with them?’
Kate suddenly found herself tongue-tied. ‘Well . . .’ she paused. ‘Well, maybe what it was like milking cows on a farm down south before he went to war and had a hand shot off.’
‘Good Lord!’ exclaimed Curtis. It was his turn to seem lost for words. All he came out with was, ‘How odd’.
‘You find that odd, do you? Well I don’t.’
‘Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. But it really is rather odd doing that when you could be having much more fun. Come on, Florence Nightingale, we’re on. Let’s give James and Courtney a hiding,’ and Curtis Lonigan, director in the making, bounded onto the tennis court.
Kate played appallingly.
For the entire match she found herself thinking of Zanana and Ben. She was unable to stop comparing the men in tennis whites with Ben. He understood why she cared so much about the soldiers, he shared her love for Zanana and the land, he could make her smile and laugh without resorting to superficial wordplay and malicious gossip. He was dependable and trustworthy. Kate felt that she could never trust or depend on the likes of Curtis Lonigan.
They lost six love. Curtis was furious and over tea and cucumber sandwiches decided to terminate his interest in her. Kate too made a decision and left the tennis party early.
She went through the next few days fulfilling commitments, but as each new invitation, personal note and phone call came in, she politely refused every one.
‘Aren’t you feeling well, my dear?’ asked Hock Lee when he learned that Kate had dropped out of the social scene and instead chose to wander about the gardens or take the steep path down to Mosman Bay to make pencil sketches of the boats on the water.
‘I’m fine, Hock Lee. And I have had a wonderful time. I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done, but I’ll be going home soon.’
Hock Lee put an arm around her shoulders, interrupting her little speech. ‘Stop. You make it sound like the end. You’ve done what had to be done. I can imagine it’s all been a bit of a whirl. Rest quietly for a few days. Why don’t we take the train to Katoomba in the Blue Mountains for a few days — you haven’t been there yet — and then you’ll be refreshed. There are still many people to meet, you know.’
‘Hock Lee! Enough!’ cried Kate in dismay. ‘I don’t want to meet any more people, go to any more functions or see anything else.’ She took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. ‘These past weeks have been exciting and interesting, a real eye-opener for someone like me. And if the idea was for me to experience life and the world away from Zanana, then I have done that. If the idea was that I should find this life more rewarding than the relative solitude of Zanana, then the experiment has failed. And if the idea was for me to meet some eligible bachelor and get engaged, then that too has failed.’
‘Has it achieved anything?’ asked Hock Lee softly.
‘Oh indeed yes. I realise I am meant for a simple and quiet life. At Zanana. I prefer nature to society. I do not need to be going places and doing things, and I don’t need a large circle of friends. I like my own company. But most of all I like the company of Ben Johnson. He is a special person and I want to spend the rest of my life with him.’
‘Does Ben know this?’
‘No, he doesn’t. But he will come round when he realises what I truly want.’
Hock Lee was thoughtful. ‘Hmm, I see. Kate, Ben is no longer at Zanana. Gladys and I were going to tell you later.’
Kate stared at her godfather in shocked amazement. ‘What do you mean? He’s all right, isn’t he?’
‘Oh yes. But he too felt he needed to do what you are doing — go out and see what is on the other side of the river and beyond the walls of Zanana.’
‘Why didn’t he tell me?’
‘He asked me to tell you. This is not to be the end of your friendship. He hopes you are enjoying yourself and he will write to you and let you know how he is getting on.’
Tears began to roll down Kate’s cheeks and she angrily brushed them away. ‘I thought he was . . . fond of me.’
Hock Lee gathered Kate in his arms once more, rocking her gently. ‘Kate dearest, believe he is very fond of you, which is why he had to leave.’
‘What do you mean?’ sniffed Kate. ‘And where has he gone?’
‘To Melbourne. He’s working and studying with some well-known botanist trained by Guilfoyle who did the Botanic Gardens there. Ben seems serious about landscaping and horticulture. He has a natural gift but no formal training.’
Kate bit her lip. ‘Yes, we talked about his ideas to create surroundings that make people feel close to nature.’ Kate turned away. ‘I hope he’s happy. It’s just a bit of a surprise. He never hinted to me that he might go away.’
‘It doesn’t mean he thinks any the less of you, Kate, but he has to find his own feet and make his way in the world. He couldn’t stay on at Zanana in your shadow.’
‘I wonder if he’ll ever come back — to stay, I mean.’
‘His parents are there; Ben is linked to Zanana almost as closely as you are.’
‘It won’t be the same though.’ Kate was sad. Why hadn’t Ben said anything to her; why had he waited till now to strike out on his own? Had he just been playing with her and now that he was out in the world, would his childhood friend be forgotten? Their kisses, his hand smoothing away a stray tendril of her hair, the secret smiles, the whispered dreams — did they mean anything to him?
Over the next few hours her sadness began to change, manifesting in a steely resolve to go her own way too. ‘I don’t need Ben Johnson to make my life complete. I can manage very well on my own.’
To the surprise of Hock Lee, Kate flung herself into a final round of balls and garden parties, enduring a series of formal farewell ‘calls’ on the grandes dames and attending yet more dinners where the marriageable young ladies were discreetly paraded like prize sheep.
Kate found some of these quite entertaining, but not for reasons anticipated by the hosts. The opulent bad taste of their homes and decor, the screeching laughter of some of the women, the raucous whisky-soaked braying of the men and twittering of their daughters, amused her. For all their wealth and trappings, most of these people were the stock of squatters and merchants who had profited because they were first into the new land.
Kate couldn’t face the idea of going back to Zanana without Ben. So she lingered in the city, writing each day to Mrs Butterworth, who was thrilled with news of all her activities, vicariously living every moment, rereading every detail of where she went, who she saw, what they wore and said. Kate obliged good-naturedly, masking her real disappointment with both the Sydney scene and the emptiness that awaited her at Zanana.
During the season she had frequently seen the Dashford family. She found Mr and Mrs Charles Dashford cold and haughty and wondered why her father had chosen Charles Dashford as his solicitor. Naturally Charles Dashford never made reference to their confrontation at the board meeting that approved turning Zanana into a war veterans’ convalescent home. The fact it had proved to be so successful and a role model for others in the country, seemed to rankle rather than please Dashford.
As for Hector, since her spurning of his proposal and later advances, he blatantly ignored her wherever possible. If their paths crossed at social functions he was civil but cool. Each time she saw him he was escorting a different bright young thing, for Hector was considered highly eligible. He was a leading young figure in the legal world, considered a clever if brash lawyer with the distinct benefit of a father with a very tidy fortune. But Kate noticed when she and Hock Lee attended formal family occasions at the Dashfords’ Vaucluse residence, Hector spent most of his time in the company of his father’s personal assistant. Kate recalled their meeting at her summer symphony when Hector had proposed. At the time she’d wished he would pursue someone more suitable, such as his father’s clever and well-groomed secretary. It was apparent that there was now a very close friendship between them.
At a poolside luncheon and croquet match at the Dashfords’ home Kate studied this woman who had captured Hector’s attention. She was very well-mannered and polite, and never put a foot wrong socially. Yet there was something calculating about her that disturbed Kate as she watched the severely but expensively dressed woman circulating among the guests.
As if aware of the scrutiny, she came over to where Kate was sitting in the shady courtyard and asked if she was enjoying herself.
‘Very much. I haven’t played croquet before. I like it.’
‘You’re very good for a beginner. Some of the more daring of us are going swimming in the pool later. We’re picking teams for some games, are you joining in?’
Kate shook her head. ‘No thanks. I’d prefer to watch.’
‘Very well, Miss Maclntyre, maybe we’ll call on your services to help referee.’
She excused herself and moved away but Kate sensed a lingering wave of disapproval and a definite hint of superiority.
To her joy, Kate began receiving short but warm notes from Ben, telling of his studies and work with horticulture experts currently extending a section of the Botanic Gardens in Melbourne. The letters were as friendly and down to earth as Ben always was. They cheered Kate and she announced to Hock Lee that she was ready to go home to Zanana. It no longer seemed as lonely as it did when she first got news that Ben had left.
Hock Lee raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘So, you’re ready to go back to being just as you were three months ago?’
‘Not quite. I can now go back happily. I have seen the other side of the river and I prefer life at Zanana. And I want you to stop pestering me about getting married.’
He grinned at her. ‘You’re not planning on staying a spinster, I hope.’
‘Of course not! Hock Lee, I’m not yet twenty-one! I may become a career girl. Many are, you know.’
‘You have a job. Running Zanana.’
‘That’s true.’ Kate became serious. ‘I have some ideas for the future. It can’t stay a convalescent home forever. The men are moving on.’
‘Some seem to have taken up permanent residence.’
‘Yes,’ Kate sighed. ‘But they have nowhere to go. No close families, no jobs. But they pull their weight in other ways, Hock Lee.’
‘Yes, of course. So what are these plans?’
‘Oh, a little vague just yet. I feel Zanana should still be run as some community or charity cause . . .’
‘What if you marry? Don’t you want to live there as your parents did? You will have your inheritance when you turn twenty-one and can afford to live in style.’
‘I understood the money was for the upkeep of the estate, and anyway, I don’t want to live in the grand manner. I realise more than ever it’s not my style. I’m a simple country girl.’
Hock Lee smiled at the beautiful young woman before him. A country heart maybe, but the past few months had done much to mature her and give depth to her character. ‘Well then, it’s back to Zanana.’
Hock Lee slowed his Hudson Super-Six as he turned through Zanana’s gates and drove along the avenue of fat palms and boxwood trees.
Kate flung out her arms in an embracing gesture. ‘Home! Home at last!’
There was a veritable parade to meet her at the entrance to the house. Several ex-servicemen in wheelchairs trundled across the lawns where they’d been sitting under shady trees, two of the maids, a nursing aide, Sid and Nettie Johnson, a beaming Wally Simpson and a tearful Gladys Butterworth all lined up to welcome her.
Mrs Butterworth and Kate hugged each other as Wally and Hock Lee began unloading leather suitcases and the Folkestone travelling trunk from the car.
‘You do look the sophisticated lady, Kate,’ enthused Mrs Butterworth as she eyed the cream crêpe de Chine blouse and perky scarlet hat, and the lavender wool suit cut off at the calf showing trim legs and black-heeled shoes with rhinestone buckles.
‘No, it’s just the same old me. I don’t know what I’m going to do with all these smart clothes Hock Lee insisted on getting for me.’ She smiled and linked her arm through Wally’s. ‘Now, tell me all the news. How are the roses? Do we have any new animals?’
There was a lot of laughter and chatter as they took morning tea on the long verandah, overlooking the immaculately terraced lawns and gardens. Beyond the fringe of trees hiding the swimming pool and grotto, shone the silvery expanse of the river.
Mrs Butterworth gazed fondly at Kate as she munched a scone and kicked off her shoes. She hadn’t changed. Maybe she’d gained some extra poise and confidence, but certainly none of the snobbery or class consciousness had rubbed off from the smart social set she’d been mixing with. Mrs Butterworth sighed inwardly with relief.
The following day Kate, comfortably dressed in a cotton skirt and simple blouse, visited Sid and Nettie Johnson. Nettie asked lots of questions about what she’d been doing and the places she’d been, sighing over a train trip to Melbourne. ‘And is Melbourne grand? What did you see?’ she asked.
‘The Henley-on-the-Yarra Regatta was lovely. It made me think of our river. And the Melbourne Cup Races of course, though our roses are far superior to those at Flemington. I saw a Bizet opera presented by the Lyster Company from America at the Princess Theatre, and toured the Exhibition Building. I even went to the zoo and rode on an elephant. I also went to the Botanic Gardens.’
Sid beamed. ‘Have you heard Ben is there now? We’re mighty proud of him. He’s turned that flair of his for plants and things into a right going concern. In his last letter he said he was setting out a corner of the Botanic Gardens. Just fancy that, it will be there forever. A real tribute to him, I reckon.’
Nettie shook her head. ‘He was always a shy quiet boy who loved nature and animals and flowers, but who’d have believed he had this in him?’
‘Is he coming home soon?’ Kate asked casually.
Nettie laughed. ‘That boy. We’ll never know. He’ll just turn up. Like he did after the war. Just walked in the door one morning and threw down his kitbag.’
Kate nodded, remembering the morning well.
After the big official welcome home to the returning soldiers at the Kincaid railway station, the Johnsons were heartbroken that Ben was not among the first returnees. The demobilisation of the troops had become erratic and the soldiers dribbled along in bunches after the first excited mass arrivals.
Kate had been in the rose garden, snipping creamy pink Grace Darling tea roses and putting them in a basket, when she felt, rather than heard, someone approach. Turning, she looked directly into the sunlight and, momentarily blinded, wondered if she was imagining the figure coming towards her. Silhouetted against the bright light was the unmistakable shape of a soldier with the turned-up slouch hat and a kitbag slung over one shoulder. The figure was shrouded in light like a religious painting of an angel, and for one wild moment Kate thought it was her dad coming home to them.
She dropped the shears and took a step forward, then stopped. The form became recognisable, her heart began to beat a little faster and a smile seemed to grow from her toes to the roots of her hair, sending a tingling glow throughout her body.
‘Ben,’ she whispered. With a joyous laugh she ran towards him.
For Ben, too, Kate looked like some ethereal vision. Her slim shapely figure was outlined by the wind blowing her muslin dress against her body, her long gold hair tumbling down her back in waves. Awkwardly he dropped his kitbag as her happy laugh floated to him.
‘Ben! Ben!’ She paused as she reached him and suddenly they were standing facing each other, motionless. To both their surprise it was Kate who jumped the invisible barrier between them, flinging her arms about him and hugging him tightly.
‘What a surprise! We didn’t know you were coming today.’
A huge grin split his wan face and he was reluctant to let go of the soft warm body in his arms. Kate stepped back and tilted her head, her eyes laughing up at him as pure and clear and blue as he remembered. He picked up his bag and walked beside her, fighting an urge to take her hand.
‘I just wanted to look at the rose garden first. I thought about it a lot while I was . . . over there. We all did.’
Kate nodded sadly, thinking of her father, Harold. They stood together in silence for a moment, both staring at the cherub fountain splashing amidst the waterlilies on the pond, the sundial and the wall of roses banked behind.
‘I’m glad you’re back safe, Ben,’ said Kate softly.
Ben nodded. ‘I’d better go down to the house then. Coming with me?’
‘No. You see your mum and dad alone. Come up to the house later for a cup of tea. Mum will be thrilled to know you’re back.’
The little barrier clicked back into place. Kate went back to picking her roses as Ben trudged down to the Johnsons’ cottage.
Had it been almost three years ago?
Kate was brought back to the present as Nettie offered her more tea. ‘No, thank you. I must be going. I’m still settling in and unpacking.’
‘Glad to be back, I bet,’ said Sid.
‘I am. I am.’ Kate put her cup on the sideboard and waved to them. ‘See you later then.’
They watched her move across the lawns. ‘She hasn’t changed,’ smiled Sid.
‘Not Kate. Though I thought she might come back engaged.’
‘I thought she and Ben were sweet on each other for a bit there.’
‘Why, Sid, they’re almost like family . . . kissing cousins, so to speak. But you can’t think our Ben would marry the mistress of Zanana. It wouldn’t be proper.’
‘Well . . . yes, I guess you’re right,’ mumbled Sid. His wife handed him the big china teapot.
‘Here, go throw the tea leaves on the tomatoes.’
Kate settled back into her room and life at Zanana while Ben continued to board in a small guesthouse in Prahran. Each thought the other content and realising their dreams. Each was wrong.