Zanana 1923
Kate prowled around the Indian House, fingering the carved bedposts, the tiny mirror patterns on the velvet walls, the intricate design of coloured glass pieces in the windowpanes. She was seeking answers from the shadows and the spirit of her mother, Catherine, whose presence she felt so strongly in the little palace.
It had been a year of turmoil and no final solution was in sight.
The big house had been closed up, all the veterans having been discharged to reduce operating costs. Kate was trying to plan how it could be renovated to provide care for children, and how this would be financed. But this dream was becoming remoter by the day as finances continued to deteriorate.
Kate and Ben were still living in the renovated old gatehouse set at the bottom of the drive. It was a small but well-designed cottage made of Hawkesbury sandstone. It had its own small garden and picket fence. Kate liked the cosy friendly setting and both of them found it far more romantic than the big house. They were quite happy when alone in their cottage, curled in deep comfortable chintz chairs before the open fire. On evenings like this, the problems of the estate could be momentarily pushed to one side.
But the problems returned like a recurring nightmare and then came the ultimate blow with the devastating news of Hock Lee’s death in China.
A letter had come from China in unfamiliar handwriting and Kate had a deep sense of foreboding about the news it contained. She carried it around for several hours before opening it in the stillness of the deserted rose garden.
It was from a lawyer practising in the English quarter of the international zone of Shanghai. Writing on behalf of the stricken sisters, he gave basic details — Hock Lee had died of yellow fever soon after getting his sisters comfortably settled in their luxurious Shanghai apartment. He had contracted the illness while on a visit to his ancestral home town a long way from the city and modern medical facilities. It was a trip dictated by the obligation and wish to pay homage at the graves of his father and mother who had returned and died there.
Hock Lee had been buried near his parents. The lawyer advised that if anything relevant to them was found in his papers, it would be communicated to them. The estate, he said, appeared quite complicated and would take some time to sort out.
Kate had sobbed as if her heart would break. And now, months after the event, she still found it impossible to accept that Hock Lee was dead. That he would never again drive to Zanana to bring her the warmth of a friendship that was forged with her father a lifetime ago on the goldfields. As her godfather, Hock Lee had ensured that she had every support she needed, was always there with the right advice, the right words of comfort, the right words of encouragement. Now there was silence and a great emptiness.
The emptiness was compounded by the departure of Gladys and Wally. They had gone to visit the Johnsons in Bangalow and to renew their links with the town in which they’d grown up. Gladys promised Kate she would be back to help before the baby arrived.
The pregnancy had been one of the few pieces of good news in an otherwise bleak year. Kate chose to tell Ben about it in the grotto, then the ecstatic couple broke the news to the staff and few remaining veterans. An impromptu party had been organised that evening for everyone on the estate and for a few hours Zanana sparkled again with a zest for living. But since that gay evening months ago there had been little to celebrate.
Kate sat on the edge of the canopied bed, feeling the baby move inside her womb. She laid her hands on the swell of her body, feeling the quivering roll ripple across her abdomen. How much she wanted this baby, a living symbol of the deep love she and Ben shared. A great sadness enveloped her. What would this child inherit? It was not money that concerned her, though she was painfully aware that it meant a great deal in the matter of keeping Zanana in the family. She wanted her child to inherit the love of Zanana, to appreciate its special meaning, to grow and put down roots as Catherine and Robert had intended their children and grandchildren to do — here, at Zanana in tranquillity and beauty. But this was looking more uncertain as the weeks dragged on. The income from the farm was still not showing signs of picking up, and although the Dashfords had arranged restructuring of investments, the evidence of capital gain was very slight indeed. Most of the stock was attracting little interest in the market. The Dashfords urged patience.
Kate had telephoned Hector and his wife several times asking for clarification of the complex letters she’d received from them which sought endorsement of investment proposals or authorisation for the sale of shares. Hector inevitably deferred to his wife’s opinion whenever the questions were difficult. However, Kate always found Mrs Dashford rather brittle on the telephone and conversation was difficult.
‘Be assured, Mrs Johnson, we are doing our very best. The advice we are getting is from the top people. But you must realise this all takes time,’ she said crisply.
‘I appreciate that, Mrs Dashford, but the restructuring — as you call it — is costing more than I ever thought it would . . . and the return from the sale of some of the assets has been so low that I really can’t believe it.’
‘We’re in difficult times.’
‘I know . . . but we’re running out of things to sell, aren’t we?’
‘I must agree with you that the asset situation is not good.’
‘Isn’t there anything we can do?’ asked Kate desperately.
‘Not really. I’ve told you we are doing our best. I can get Mr Stuart-Wright, the accountant, to reassure you on this if you like. But he will only tell you what you already know.’
Kate paused for a few seconds. ‘Oh, I don’t suppose that will help. Accountants always talk in a language I don’t fully understand.’
‘Quite,’ Mrs Dashford chipped in. ‘Well then, we will get in touch with you when we have something positive.’
‘Thank you,’ said Kate and was about to hang up when Hector’s wife spoke again.
‘I hear you’re expecting a baby.’
‘Yes, it’s due fairly soon. I’m finding it quite tiring at the moment.’
‘I’m sure you must be. Well, goodbye.’
The phone clicked and the line went dead. Kate was surprised at the abrupt end to the conversation and put down the telephone feeling confused and upset.
Ben was as supportive as ever but he saw things from a different perspective. ‘Don’t worry so much, my love. We can always lease out Zanana for a while and go north to live while we raise our child. We can come back when things pick up.’
‘That sounds terribly attractive, Ben, when you put it so simply. But it’s not simple . . . Zanana is in my blood. I want the baby to inherit that attachment, to be part of Zanana right from the start of its life.’
Ben became increasingly perturbed as Kate sank into days of deep reverie, and developed a lacklustre approach to life. It was as if the pressure of the estate and the baby were draining all vitality from her. He longed for the return of his bubbly, enthusiastic, energetic Kate. In a search for a remedy, he suggested that they go to Bangalow for a holiday.
He secretly enlisted the help of Gladys Butterworth who wrote enthusiastically, inviting them to visit. Gladys was staying with Ben’s parents, Sid and Nettie, who had settled back into the country. Wally had moved back into his cottage and, with help from Gladys, had it looking neat and comfortable.
Despite Gladys’s long letters and assurances of a warm welcome and loving care, Kate was unmoved. She was determined to have the baby at Zanana.
She also insisted on seeing Doctor Hampson who had delivered her at Zanana the wild stormy night her mother died while giving birth. Now in his late sixties, Doctor Hampson was still practising in Kincaid but made the drive to Zanana at Kate’s request. However, he urged Kate to have her confinement in the small but adequate Kincaid hospital.
‘I want my baby born at home. I know it’s a long trip for you, but there are excellent midwives close to Zanana and I could make arrangements for one of them to be on hand until you arrive to take over. I really want you to be here at Zanana . . . just as you were there with my mother. It’s terribly important to me . . . please.’
Doctor Hampson sighed. It was hard to resist the determination of the young woman. She had her father’s steel, he mused. ‘Very well, Kate. I’ll do as you wish, provided there are no signs of complications. I’m sure Mrs Butterworth will be with you too. Have no worries, all will turn out fine. Everything is looking just right at this stage.’
Kate smiled brightly and escorted him to his car, feeling happier than she had for a long time. Her mood was not shared by Doctor Hampson as he drove through the estate. He felt quite melancholy. The place held too many sad memories for him, even though he had attended some grand functions at the house when it was at its social peak. He was glad Kate knew nothing of the night she’d been born . . . the sad loss of Catherine, and Robert’s fierce anger at the world vented on that poor orphan child. What had happened to her? he wondered. It was a pity Kate had grown up alone. A stepsister would have been a good companion for her. Doctor Hampson reflected that Kate’s dedication to Zanana was certainly passionate and would have made her father and mother both very proud. She had blossomed into a strong and beautiful young woman and it was sad that so early in her married life there seemed to be considerable financial problems causing her so much stress.
Kate was alone at Zanana. Ben was spending two days in the far north of Sydney at the Palm Beach resort area. It had become quite a playground for the wealthy who were building lavish weekend and holiday retreats. Ben had been commissioned to do the landscaping of several of the Palm Beach homes.
Kate had been attempting to weed the rose garden but found the bulge in her belly too cumbersome, so had contented herself with snipping off the dead heads of roses. Trudging back she was surprised to see a curl of smoke rising from the cottage chimney.
Peering cautiously in the kitchen door, she was thrilled to see Mrs Butterworth rattling cups and slicing a cake. Kate dropped the basket of rosebuds and dashed to hug her. ‘What a lovely surprise! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?’
‘I got a ride down with a couple of friends in their car, a real spur of the moment thing it was.’ She eyed Kate carefully. ‘Well, apart from your shape, I’d say you’ve never looked better,’ pronounced Gladys with satisfaction. ‘I picked up a nice pound cake. Tea’s nearly ready. I figured you were somewhere about the place, so I just made myself at home. Where’s Ben?’
‘He’s away for a day or so, working on a garden.’
‘And you’re here alone!’ exclaimed Mrs Butterworth.
‘Well, not quite. There are still some workers about the place. They come and go as there’s not that much paid work here. They know what the situation is, so they’re trying to find other work,’ sighed Kate. ‘But I’m fine. I have weeks to go yet. Why have you come down so early? Or are you back to stay?’
Mrs Butterworth pulled out a chair and unpinned her hat. ‘That’s what I want to talk to you about, Kate. I’d like to make one more try at getting you to come back to Bangalow to have the baby where we can all help out. Ben could even work up there for a month or so. It would do you good.’ She paused, then seeing Kate’s set and stubborn face went on, ‘But if you are still determined to have the baby here, then I’ll come down and stay for as long as you need me.’
‘Thank you, Mum.’ Kate hugged her and, sitting down at the kitchen table, reached for a slice of the buttered cake. ‘Why don’t you stay down now? Do you have to go back right away? Save yourself a trip.’
Mrs Butterworth twiddled with the edge of the tablecloth. ‘Well, it was a bit of a rush coming down, I didn’t plan on staying too long. I really came down to see how you were and to tell you some news.’
Kate looked concerned but Mrs Butterworth smiled reassuringly. ‘Oh, it’s nothing serious. Well, what I mean is, Wally and me, we thought, well . . . we thought we’d get together. Get married. We’re good mates and there doesn’t seem any point in both of us being lonely in our old age. I know he was Harold’s best friend . . .’
Kate leaned over and took Mrs Butterworths’ hands in hers, tears shining in her eyes. ‘I think it’s a wonderful idea. And I’m sure Dad does too.’
Mrs Butterworth sniffed, a little from happiness and with some relief. She’d been a bit worried at how Kate might take the news. ‘I didn’t want you to think we were being silly old fools. But he’s a good man. He still needs a bit of looking after.’
‘And so do you. You’ll make each other very happy. I bet the Johnsons are pleased.’
‘Oh, they are. We plan on staying up there, luv. In Wal’s old place. We’re just going to have a simple little ceremony in Lismore. That’s why I was hoping you’d come up, then stay on for the baby. The doctors and hospital are very good.’
‘Ben and I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world. We’ll be there with bells on; but, no, Mum, I want to be here for the birth. And much as I’d love you to be with me, I’ll be all right, truly I will. Maybe when I’ve had the baby I’ll come and stay for a bit of a rest. How does that sound?’
‘It sounds good to me. But are you sure you’re up to the train trip in your condition?’
‘Of course. We’ll get sleeping berths on the night express. It will be a very comfortable way to travel. Better than the car.’
It was a relatively easy trip but a tired Kate was happy to arrive at the station, where Gladys and Wally met them. Wal teased Kate over her bulky figure but agreed with Gladys she was blooming.
The wedding was brief and simple but the gathering after the ceremony was a jolly and happy affair, held in the local community hall. Kate was delighted to discover what a large circle of friends Gladys, Wal, Sid and Nettie had developed. Some went back to school days, to courtship days between Gladys and Harold, Wal, and his late wife Enid. Others were new friends, many of them returned servicemen and their wives who had settled in the area. The war they shared gave them all a bond of comradeship and was an easy bridge to establishing new friendships.
Gladys, dressed in a smart satin suit, a rose corsage on her shoulder and a wisp of net with a rhinestone clasp on her neatly crimped hair, smiled and blushed as she held Wal’s arm. Wal, resplendent in a blue suit with a carnation and maidenhair fern buttonaire, beamed constantly. As couples danced around the festooned hall, Wally sat down beside Kate, who was sitting out the more energetic dances.
‘So, Kate. You don’t mind that I’ve kinda stolen Gladys away?’
‘Of course not, Wal. I’m truly happy for you both. Of course I’ll miss having Mum around every day, but I guess we both have our own lives to lead now.’
‘It doesn’t have to be that way. Ben is very fond of this area — he was born up here, after all. Sid and Nettie are settled right back in. Ben could get work, don’t you think it might be a sensible idea for you both to stay up here? Just for a while, till you get the future of Zanana sorted out.’
‘I know that sounds sensible, Wal. But I just can’t abandon Zanana. It’s our child’s heritage.’
‘What will the child be getting though, Kate? A huge white elephant, a place that’s in debt and is too much to look after nowadays. I know it means a lot — sentimentally like — but your child won’t know about that, it won’t mean as much. Don’t put your own feelings onto your kid, Kate.’
‘But I’ll make sure my baby learns to love Zanana as I do! How could you not love a place that is so beautiful, so special? And I just feel in my bones that something will be sorted out. I know money is difficult at the moment, but somehow we’ll find a way to keep the place going. It might take a while, but I’m not giving up, Wal.’
Wally shook his head. ‘Stubborn as always. I have to admire you, Kate; you’ve gone in boots and all when it’s looked impossible before, so who knows.’
He patted her hand, not wanting to upset her. But in his heart he wished she could rid herself of the spectre of her parents’ love and all that Zanana stood for. Maybe a country town was a bit of a comedown after growing up at Zanana, but she had a good husband with good prospects and they could have a comfortable and happy life up here. Perhaps Ben could talk her into it, or she’d discover soon enough that a lonely existence in a once grand estate couldn’t compare with the close-knit friendliness of a small community.
Kate was walking through the gardens at Zanana when she knew her baby was on the way. Calmly she went to the cottage and telephoned Ben, Doctor Hampson’s office and the local midwife.
It was early afternoon, sunny and still. Taking clean linens, a nightgown, and some personal toiletries, Kate lifted the backdoor key to Zanana from its hook. Breathing deeply and slowly as she felt the grab of the first contractions begin, she walked to the big house.
She went in through the kitchen, noticing a layer of dust had settled on all the surfaces. In the drawing room cream cotton dust covers were thrown over the furniture. The drapes were drawn throughout the house and it was dim and melancholy. Gripping the bannister with one hand, and clutching her belongings with the other, Kate cradled her swollen body as she slowly made her way upstairs.
Kate settled herself on the bed in what was once her bedroom. It was a room now devoid of the personal detail and decoration which had marked it as her own. It was a shell, yet still filled with memories. Kate was determined her child would be born here, into its rightful place.
In the hours that followed and blurred together, Kate called out for Mrs Butterworth and for the mother she had never known. Ben was by her side and softly stroked her moist forehead and whispered gentle words.
In the early hours of the morning, Doctor Hampson and the midwife eased a sturdy boy into the world. After a quick check that the child was healthy and normal, he handed it to the midwife and turned his attention back to Kate and the now beaming Ben.
‘He’s fine. Fit and healthy. As you will be in no time too, my dear.’ Tiredness and relief swept over Doctor Hampson. If only Catherine had been as vibrantly healthy when giving birth to Kate . . . if only, if only. But for the moment all that mattered was the joy on Kate’s face as the midwife placed the baby in her arms.
Mrs Butterworth was notified by telegram and she jumped on the train from Lismore the following evening. By the time she arrived at Zanana, Kate was settled comfortably back in the cottage with Ben, the wooden cradle with her son beside the bed in easy reach.
Three weeks later, the baby was christened Alec, and Gladys marked the occasion by putting him in the highsprung pram which had been Kate’s and wheeling him through the gardens. She chatted as she went, telling the infant about his grandparents Robert and Catherine and about Zanana, until she reached the white marble angel. Lifting the baby up, she went and stood between the graves of Robert and Catherine.
‘Here, my loves. Here’s your grandson. Such a bonny baby, with Catherine’s blue eyes and your dark hair, Robert. He’s a Maclntyre, that’s for sure.’
She stood there for a while longer, rocking the baby to and fro in her arms, wondering what his future might be. ‘You’ve come into the world when things aren’t looking the best, but one thing’s for sure, little man, you have a family that loves you — and no one more than your Granny Gladys.’
Reluctantly, Gladys tore herself away from the little family and returned to Bangalow, extracting a promise from Ben and Kate that they would bring the baby up as soon as possible. Devoted as Ben and Kate had always been to each other, the birth of their son Alec had added a depth of contentment and maturity to their love, which gave Gladys a feeling of great joy.
‘Nettie is beside herself because I’ve held her grandson before she has. They are so anxious to see him. If it wasn’t for Nettie’s arthritis and Sid’s back, they’d be down here too,’ she said.
Ben patted her arm. ‘I know. I promised Mum and Dad we’ll be up to stay within a month. And we’ll have a proper christening party then. I would have had him christened up there, but Kate wanted him baptised in the church closest to Zanana,’ he confided.
So once Kate felt well enough, they packed suitcases and a large wicker basket of baby items, stowed them in the Model-T motorcar and headed north to Bangalow in easy stages.
Sid and Nettie Johnson were anxiously awaiting the arrival of their son, grandson and Kate. Together with Gladys and Wally, they planned a family party to celebrate Alec’s birth.
‘They said they’d probably arrive Thursday or Friday, so I thought a good old baked Sunday lunch would be the thing to do. Leg of lamb or pork?’ wondered Nettie.
‘Lamb, I think. With mint sauce, spuds, pumpkin, and buttered parsnips. Oh, and Wal has a good batch of peas ready in the garden, too. And I’ll decorate a cake. With blue icing, of course,’ added Gladys.
‘I’ll bake a gramma pie as well, it’s Ben’s favourite, with whipped cream and plenty of raisins in it. We’ve got a mass of grammas running wild down the back of the outhouse.’
By the time Wal had been to the butchers and Gladys and Nettie had been to the haberdashers to buy material to make a mosquito net and lining for the bassinet for the baby, the whole town knew about the impending visit. ‘You be sure and bring that baby in to show me,’ said the lady behind the counter as she wrapped up the lace, net, ribbon and soft lawn material in brown paper and handed them across the counter to Nettie.
It was Friday morning when Nettie heard a car door slam outside. Quickly she rushed into the bedroom pulling off her apron and smoothed her hair, calling, ‘Sid, they’re here!’
As the doorbell rang through the house Sid put his paper to one side. ‘Can’t be, they’d walk in the back door, not ring the front-door bell.’
Nettie followed Sid down the hall, but disappointment welled inside her as she saw the bulky shape through the frosted glass panel, knowing it wasn’t her Ben.
She turned back towards the kitchen as Sid opened the door but then froze as she heard his hesitant, ‘Morning, Sarge. What can I do for you?’
One look at the agonised face of their burly local police sergeant, holding his hat and saying quietly, ‘Can I come in, Sid?’ and Nettie knew something was badly wrong. Her knees went weak as Sid quietly took her arm and led the sergeant into the parlour.
He broke the news as gently as he could. A motor accident . . . just after dusk, the Model-T and a log truck had collided . . . Ben was killed instantly. Kate was critically injured and in hospital . . . The baby had been thrown clear and apart from a few bruises and scratches was all right.
‘I must get to Kate. Please, take me there,’ begged a distraught Gladys after the sergeant had left the sobbing Johnsons and gone over the details with Gladys and Wally.
‘Glad, it will take hours. Maybe it’s best to wait for news,’ said Wal gently. ‘Stay with Sid and Nettie and try to help them through this too.’
‘I want to be with Kate!’ Her eyes were dry and frantic and she tugged at the sergeant. ‘Can you take me? Or else I’ll get a taxi. What’s the quickest way?’
Wal put his arm around her as she dropped her face into her hands and he nodded numb thanks to the police sergeant. ‘I’ll get you there, Glad, if that’s what you want. We’ll have a cup of tea and then get ready.’
Gladys slumped in a chair and began crying uncontrollably.
The sergeant motioned to Wally, who saw him to the door. Quietly the policeman said, ‘It might be best if you do go. I don’t know whether you want to take Sid with you too, but there will be arrangements to make . . . you know, with their son. The child is being cared for now but who knows how the mother will fare. Best you get down there, Wally. I’m real sorry. I understand the girl is like Glad’s daughter . . . Terrible thing . . . Those big new timber lorries take up too much room on these old dirt roads in the bush. Going downhill loaded they’re bloody hard to stop.’
He put his hat on and trudged, head bowed, back to his police car with sagging shoulders.
Sid and Nettie were so devastated they couldn’t face the journey, so Gladys and Wally said they would make the necessary arrangements for Ben’s body to be returned to Bangalow as they wished. Gladys just wanted to be by Kate’s side, as if her presence would pull her through.
‘That girl is a fighter, she’ll be right,’ said Wally comfortingly as he drove the two hundred miles to where the accident had happened.
Gladys sat in red-eyed silence, her hands gripping the handle of her handbag, willing Kate to hang onto the sliver of life which kept her alive.
It was a relief baby Alec was safe, but how could fate be so cruel to first Catherine and now her daughter Kate?