Short and Sweet (25 page)

Maggie felt a bit shy because there were other women who hadn’t been on the ship. But she soon realized they were just as eager to make friends. Bill was soon deep in conversation with some of the men and her children had never had trouble making friends.

Jenny bounced out of bed the first morning, rushing to the window to stare out. ‘Look, Mum, it’s sunny again.’

‘Shh. Speak quietly.’

‘Dad said it was too hot yesterday, but I liked it.’

‘So did I.’

‘Can we get dressed and go downstairs?’

‘Who wants to stay in bed on a beautiful morning like this?’

After their weeks on the ship, the children looked brown and healthy as they ran about in the gardens with the other children. The Spencers weren’t the only ones wanting to give their families a better chance in life, Maggie had found.

Fair-skinned Bill suffered from the heat, getting a rash on his neck, but Maggie and the children revelled in it.

What with the sunny weather and blue skies, it seemed as if they really had come to a land of milk and honey. Perhaps Bill had been right to insist on coming here.

But oh, she missed her mother and sisters so much!

A few days later Bill came rushing into the kitchen to find Maggie. ‘We’re leaving by train tomorrow for the south-west!’

All the women working there gathered round him to listen to the details.

‘We go in our groups and stay somewhere called Pemberton the first night, then we go on to our farms by motor vehicle the next day.’

‘I wonder what Northcliffe is like,’ Maggie said. ‘I hope it’s a pretty town.’

‘It’s our
farm
I’m interested in.’

‘I hope we manage all right. We don’t really know anything about farming, even if you did read a book on it.’

He waved his fork dismissively in the air. ‘That’s why they’re sending families in groups, with a foreman to show us how to go on.’

She sighed. Bill was a clever man and had never had trouble learning anything from a book, but farming was such a different life. Still, they weren’t the only townies in the group. The West Australian government must know what it was doing.

The next day they set off early, full of excitement. But this faded a little as the journey seemed to go on for ever. The children were as good as you could expect, tumbling out of the train and running round whenever it stopped, which it did quite often. They wolfed down the pies and cakes she bought at the stations and drank the tepid water from dripping station taps because the hot weather made you thirsty.

Bill grew very quiet, frowning out of the window at the beige, sunburnt landscape.

‘You all right?’ she asked.

‘What? Oh yes, fine. Just thinking. It’s not very pretty, is it?’

It was very different from Lancashire, that was sure. ‘It doesn’t matter, not really. We still have one another.’

But he didn’t smile at her and he continued to look worried.

They didn’t arrive at Pemberton until after eleven o’clock at night, by which time Bill had one of the headaches that were a result of a head wound during the war. It wasn’t the only legacy of war. He hadn’t wanted to make love to her since he’d first fought in France. She missed the closeness dreadfully. Would he never touch her in that way again?

It was terrible what war did to people’s lives.

They were greeted by members of the Citizens’ Voluntary Committee, who offered them sandwiches and drinks. The tea had been made in a big square tin labelled ‘Laurel Kerosene’ on the outside and was dipped out by jug.

She sipped the dark liquid gratefully.

Bill yawned and eased his shoulders. ‘Where do we sleep?’ he asked the man in charge.

‘In the railway carriages, mate.’

‘What? You must be joking.’

‘There isn’t anywhere else
to
sleep.’

Bill continued to grumble and fuss as they settled down.

‘Why is Daddy so grumpy?’ Jenny asked when she and her mother went to the ladies.

‘He has one of his headaches.’

‘He’s always having them.’

Maggie pretended to fall asleep quickly, as the children did. She didn’t have the energy to jolly Bill along tonight.

And although he’d been happier since they left England, reminding her sometimes of the cheerful young man she’d married, there were still days like today. She closed her eyes. Her last thought was: they’d reach their destination tomorrow.

Surely things would get better after that?

Five hours later they were woken by a man with a hand bell, to face a cool, misty morning. Tea and bacon sandwiches were provided for breakfast, and they were given other sandwiches in brown paper bags for later in the day.

Maggie went to thank the tired-looking woman serving them from the huge tin of steaming tea, then stayed to chat. ‘Have you had many group settlers through here?’

‘A few, but it’s only just starting.’ She hesitated then added, ‘I’d better warn you: they’ve not got all the temporary huts built yet, let alone the permanent houses. You might find yourselves sleeping in tents for a while. But nights aren’t cold at this time of year and it doesn’t rain much in summer, so you’ll be all right.’

‘Oh.’

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

Maggie could feel herself blushing.

‘It takes time to build huts – which the government should have realized. It’s not our fault they sent you here too soon. Everyone’s doing their best to make you welcome. We want more people in the south-west of this state.’

Maggie nodded. ‘We appreciate your help. Bill was – um – a bit tired yesterday.’

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

Maggie refused to let that comment get her down. No one was perfect. And Bill was getting better. She knew he cared about them, would work his fingers to the bone to give the children this chance.

He greeted her with a smile, then helped her up into the flat, open back of a vehicle people here called a ‘truck’. It had rails round the back but no roof. ‘We’ll have to sit on our trunks or else the floor.’

‘I don’t mind.’

The roads were the worst Maggie had ever seen in her life and they were bumped about like dried peas in a baby’s rattle. Several times a truck would get trapped in one of the deep ruts and then everyone had to get out while the men and older boys pushed the vehicle out of the hole.

Peter was always by his father’s side, helping the men. He was growing up fast, too fast for Maggie.

‘We always get these hold-ups,’ one of the drivers said. ‘One day we’ll have proper roads through these forests.’ He laughed and added, ‘But
we
might not live long enough to see it!’

It was the trees which lifted Maggie’s spirits, so tall and beautiful were they, shedding a pleasant dappled light over everything. Some had been felled and six people could easily have stood on one huge stump. She wished she’d seen that tree when it was growing. It must have been magnificent.

She got talking to the woman sitting next to her, who’d come here with her husband and six children, the oldest a lad of sixteen, the youngest only three years old.

‘It’s for them I came,’ Elsie looked down fondly at the little girl sleeping on her lap. ‘I don’t mind what
I
have to do, but Mick and me want to give them a better start in life than we had.’

They all wanted that, Maggie thought.

Peter and Jenny were leaning on the rail of the truck now, talking away excitedly to the children next to them.

‘Keep an eye on your sister, Peter,’ Maggie called.

‘I’m all right!’ Jenny protested.

Peter gave his mother a wink and she knew he’d do it. He was a responsible lad.

Bill was sitting quietly, staring into space. His skin had gone red and he kept rubbing his right temple. She left him to his thoughts and continued to chat with Elsie.

The trucks slowed down. ‘We’re here!’ called their driver.

‘This can’t be Northcliffe!’ someone exclaimed.

‘It is, mate.’

‘This isn’t a town,’ Mick protested.

‘It will be one day,’ the driver said. ‘That’s why you lot are here, to build it.’

The settlers stared round in shock at the bare patch of cleared land in the middle of a forest. There was only one building, with a sign proclaiming it a general store. It was little more than a tin shed. Next to it was a tent. To one side of the open land were some rough fences covered in hessian.

Disappointment seared through Maggie and she clutched Bill’s hand. She’d expected a church, one or two shops, people to talk to.

Jenny pressed against her. ‘Is this really it, Mum?’

She forced a smile, for the children’s sake. ‘Yes. Fancy seeing a town before it’s built. We’ll remember today, won’t we, when this is a proper street?’

The children looked at her doubtfully.

Bill scowled and opened his mouth, but when she frowned at him, he contented himself with muttering something under his breath.

‘If you folk want to go to the lavatory, that’s it over there!’ the driver called.

Peter went with his father to the side of the cloth-covered fences labelled ‘Men’.

Jenny and her mother went to the women’s side. Behind the rough fence, they found a trench with a pole across it to sit on. Beside it was a shovel and some sand.

Maggie and her daughter both did what they had to. Out of courtesy she avoided looking at the other women.

One young, newly-married lass stood there sobbing, saying she couldn’t go in a place like this. Maggie didn’t try to comfort her. She needed all her strength for herself and her family at the moment.

‘Bit rough, isn’t it?’ Elsie whispered as they walked back. ‘Why didn’t they put two poles, one to lean back against?’

‘Because it’s easier for men and I don’t suppose they think what it’s like for women and children,’ Maggie replied.

By the time they got back to the truck, a man from the store had provided a bucket of cold water to wash their hands in, an enamel bucket of hot, black tea and some thick chunks of bread spread with jam but no butter.

‘Can’t stop for long, so eat up quickly,’ their driver called. ‘Have to get you settled in by nightfall. We’ll leave again in half an hour. Food will be provided for the first few weeks, but you ladies might want to buy a few extras. Your group’s land is nearly three miles from town.’

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

‘I don’t want you wasting it on luxuries.’

She held back her anger – just. Ever since the war, he’d been very parsimonious, doling out money from his wages when she needed something. During the war she’d worked and had her own money. It had been hard to stay at home again and be dependent on someone else, so she’d done a little sewing to earn pin money, just alterations for friends and neighbours.

She bought a pound of fresh figs and a melon, both cheap at this time of year. Fruit was good for children and she loved it too. She’d never even seen fresh figs before, or tasted a melon.

Then they set off again, jolting along an even rougher track. Everyone commented excitedly when they saw three kangaroos hopping through the trees. They were bigger than Maggie had expected.

‘Don’t get too near the big males,’ the driver called. ‘They can rip you apart with those front claws.’

Jenny was tired and had come to sit by her mother.

‘I’m longing to get to our new house, aren’t you?’ Maggie said to Bill, threading her arm in his.

‘Yes. There’s nowhere like home. Look at that lad of ours.’

Peter was still standing by the rail, his face lit up by excitement. Maggie wished she could stand with him.

The trucks stopped at a clearing which was surrounded by what looked like waste land. Many huge trees had been felled, their trunks and branches still lying on the ground. Everyone stared round in puzzlement.

‘Why are we stopping here?’ Mick asked.

‘This is it,’ the driver replied. ‘The land your group has been allocated. The government’s cleared some of it, to start you off, and you’ll be paid by the acre to clear the rest. That’s how you earn your living at the beginning.’

‘They didn’t tell us how big some of the trees would be or how thickly the forest grew,’ another man said.

‘You don’t have to fell them if they’re above a certain circumference, just the smaller ones.’

A man strode towards them from behind a pile of crates to one side, waving and smiling. He was tall, about forty, looking strong and capable. ‘I’m Ted Riley, your group’s foreman. Welcome to your new home.’

Bill jumped down from the truck. ‘This can’t be it. Where are we supposed to live? They said there would be houses provided.’

‘We build temporary huts ourselves first, then later teams of carpenters come round and build proper houses. For now, there are tents.’ Ted moved over to the truck. ‘Can I help you down, ladies?’

Maggie scrambled down into Bill’s arms and he clung to her for a minute.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I didn’t think you’d have to rough it like this.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

Most of the children jumped down without anyone’s help. Peter came to stand by his father, who absent-mindedly laid a hand on his shoulder as they waited. Jenny pressed close to her mother. She’d been very clingy for the whole trip.

When they were all standing in a circle, Ted said, ‘We’ll need to work quickly to erect the tents before nightfall. We’ll start building the temporary huts after we’ve set up camp.’ He jerked his head towards a pile of corrugated iron sheets and timber. ‘They sent the materials for the huts before the tents. Stupid, but that’s the authorities in Perth for you!’

‘You men will be paid a daily rate for your labour,’ he went on, ‘and tomorrow morning we’ll draw lots for which block of land each family gets. That’s the fairest way. We’ll all eat together at first, and the ladies can do the lighter work and the cooking.’ He looked round the silent group. ‘Things will get done more quickly if the older children pitch in, too.’

‘What about school?’ one woman asked.

‘Can’t build schools till you’ve got houses. It won’t hurt the kids to miss a few months’ schooling.’