Araluen (21 page)

With some regret, Franklin supposed it was only natural. Women changed when they became mothers, he decided - it was to be expected. So he poured his energies into his work. As the year rolled by, he demanded less of Penelope sexually, while he delighted in her as a mother to his son. And Penelope made sure she played the role to perfection.

‘Fellow Australians, it is my melancholy duty to inform you officially that, in consequence of the persistence of Germany in her invasion of Poland, Great Britain has declared war upon her, and that as a result, Australia is also at war ... ’

Franklin, Penelope and the guests and staff of The Colony House were gathered around the lounge-room wireless, like so many others across the nation, listening to the live broadcast by the Prime Minister, Robert Menzies.

‘May God in His mercy and compassion grant that the world will soon be free from this agony.’

There was silence after the announcement and then people broke away into families and groups and talked quietly in various corners of the lounge.

That night Franklin and Penelope made love. It seemed right, somehow. She knew it was her fertile time but she didn't care. She wanted to be loved and to feel his closeness. For Penelope, like many, many others, it was a vulnerable time.

She didn't conceive, as it turned out. In fact, she didn't fall pregnant for nearly a year. Franklin was often away at Mandinulla and, when he was in town, he worked sixteen hours a day at their offices. He'd acquired an entire inner-city office block from which to administer his burgeoning businesses. Ross Industries had become a massive concern.

Things didn't change much in the spring of 1940 when Penelope discovered she was pregnant. If she'd expected Franklin to drop everything and tend to her confinement, she was sadly mistaken. Thrilled as he was by the news of her pregnancy, the need to expand his factories to meet the army requisitions for beef and boots and leathergoods demanded his full attention.

He hired a live-in nanny for Terence and instructed Penelope to rely upon Zofia for companionship.

‘Solly is working as hard as I am,’ he said. ‘Zofia is also in need of company.’

It was an idea which didn't altogether thrill Penelope. Baby Terence was nearly two years old and, despite the capable care of the nanny, he was a demanding infant. Penelope found him exhausting. Zofia had her own eighteen-month-old son, Karol, constantly by her side and her six-week-old baby daughter constantly at her breast and yet she never seemed to tire. She was a born mother and, as such, a constant source of irritation to Penelope. Furthermore, the woman seemed to delight in pregnancy and the prospect of childbirth. Penelope felt fat and bloated and unattractive - the glorification of motherhood was the last thing she wanted. If Franklin couldn't be with her to spoil her and pamper her, then she wanted to be left alone.

Franklin had planned to be with Penelope when her time came, but things went wrong. She was rushed to hospital with a fever four weeks before the baby was due. They wired Franklin, who did all he could to get there but, by the time he arrived, it was too late. A week after her hospitalisation, on April 4, 1941, Penelope gave birth to a stillborn child, a daughter.

The months which followed were terrible. Penelope sank into a deep depression and Franklin was unable to get through to her. She would sit staring into space, refusing all food except for the chicken broth constantly and painstakingly supplied by Zofia. Strangely enough, Zofia was the only person with whom Penelope allowed herself any contact, occasionally even smiling a ‘thank you’ as she accepted the broth. When Franklin approached her she became sullen, refusing to speak or even to look at him.

The one and only time he managed to communicate with her, she hurled recriminations at him. He was totally taken aback. He'd done his best to convey his sorrow at the loss of their baby and he'd tried to convince her that she would get over it in time and that they would have another child.

‘For God's sake, don't be such a hypocrite, Franklin.’ The eyes that had been staring dully at the wall suddenly turned on him and he could see the flash of hatred in their depths. ‘You don't care a damn about the baby,’ she spat. Franklin was dumb with amazement.

‘You don't care a damn about the baby and you don't care a damn about me,’ she continued. ‘All you care about is sons. So spare me your sympathy. Please. It's sickening.’ Her anger vanished as quickly as it had erupted and Penelope turned and stared at the wall, retreating again into her torpor.

Franklin didn't dare make another approach for fear of upsetting her but he discussed her condition in depth with her doctor.

‘Such irrational behaviour is perfectly normal,’ the doctor assured him. ‘Many women suffer deeply traumatic reactions to the birth of a stillborn. You must be patient.’

The doctor advised him to take her away somewhere and, although Penelope didn't seem particularly enamoured of the idea, he eventually persuaded her to go with him to Mandinulla. Six months after the stillbirth they set off, together with baby Terence and Marie the nanny.

Mandinulla was 30,000 square miles of arid scrubland in central Queensland. It was a large property, certainly, but there were larger throughout the huge northern and western sections of Australia. They needed to be vast. Size was necessary for their sheer survival. The head of cattle allotted to each square mile of territory was kept to a minimum to ensure the grazing lands remained adequate for their existence. The other necessity for their survival was the ability of the overseers and the stockmen to police such a vast territory. And Mandinulla had the best.

Kevin Never-Never Everard was an expert. And so was Jacky, the half-caste Aborigine who led the team of stockmen. Never-Never lived in his quarters at the homestead and Jacky lived with the rest of the stockmen, all of whom were full or part Aboriginal, at the stockmen's quarters half a mile away, but the two men were firm friends. When Sam Crockett bought the property and discovered that Never-Never regularly entertained Jacky in his quarters and regularly dined with Jacky and his family in theirs, he tried to forbid it.

‘Good God, man, they're niggers,’ he said. ‘You have a position to maintain here.’

Never-Never didn't deny that segregation was certainly the accepted policy on cattle stations throughout the country, but if he chose to do things differently, that was his business and his alone. He and Jacky had been running the property way before Sam Crockett had come on the scene, and Never-Never resented the American's intrusion.

‘If that's the way you want to run things, Mr Crockett, fine,’ he said. ‘But I'll take off, if you don't mind.’

Sam had done his homework and knew the value of the man. Reluctantly, he gave in, making it apparent that he deeply disapproved of the situation, which didn't bother Never-Never one bit.

When Franklin took over the reins he didn't rock the boat. It wasn't that he particularly approved of Everard's methods, but if a thing was working well, why change it?

Penelope's first impression of Mandinulla was not favourable. She liked the homestead itself with its wide verandahs, large airy rooms and high ceilings designed to take advantage of the slightest breeze to help alleviate the oppressive heat. But the countryside itself horrified her. There was nothing but scrub. Dry, arid scrub as far as the eye could see. Why on earth had she allowed Franklin to bring her to this wasteland?

And then she talked to Never-Never. It was several days after they'd arrived and Franklin had invited the overseer to dine with them. Penelope picked at her food while Franklin and Never-Never talked business. She still hadn't regained her appetite. Her face was gaunt and her body too thin and there were dark circles under her eyes.

Never-Never felt sorry for her. She was obviously unhappy and Franklin was making no effort to include her in the conversation. Rarely one to observe niceties, Never-Never surprised himself as well as Franklin and Penelope.

‘How do you like Mandinulla, Mrs Ross?’

Penelope looked up from her plate, slightly taken back. She realised that the enquiry was uncharacteristic of him and wondered whether or not she should reply with honesty. What the hell, she thought, why try to be nice? She couldn't be bothered.

‘I hate it,’ she said.

Never-Never appreciated her honesty. ‘Why?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘The homestead's pretty. I don't mind the homestead. But the country ... ’ She started toying with her food again. ‘The country's vile. It's ugly and it's dead.’

There was a moment's pause. ‘No, it isn't. It's magnificent and it's very much alive.’

She looked up and met his eyes. They were strange eyes in a strange face. Years of harsh Queensland sun had weathered his skin and reduced his eyes to slits. Never-Never could have been any age, but he was somewhere in his forties – he wasn't exactly sure where himself. He was lean and wiry and looked like the scrubland itself, she thought, sparse and brown and dry.

Her initial interest at his reaction died away and she gave another indifferent shrug. ‘Maybe I haven't been looking in the right places.’

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘And maybe you haven't been looking in the right way.’ Something in Never-Never was demanding that he get the woman's attention. He didn't for the life of him know why. But a face as beautiful as hers had no right to be devoid of animation. He wanted to kindle some interest in her, wanted to see a light in her eyes.

If you look at this land in the right way you'll see colours you've never seen before. You'll see orange earth and silver trees ... ’

Franklin hadn't been paying much attention to the exchange. He appreciated Never-Never's attempts to engage Penelope in conversation but he didn't expect it to achieve much. He'd given up trying to get through to her himself. Then he heard ‘orange earth’ and 'silver trees', and the image of Catherine flashed through his mind. Catherine and the wheat fields. He heard her voice. Something about learning to use his peripheral vision: ‘ ... and you'll find ... that the earth is red and the mountains purple, and ... ’

‘And when you look at them through a heat haze,’ Never-Never was continuing, 'they shimmer like magic. And then, beyond the shimmer, you can see mirages. Sometimes a whole lake.’

It was surprising to see Never-Never so animated, thought Franklin, and he turned to watch Penelope. Was the man having any effect?

‘And the wildlife,’ Never-Never continued. ‘You've never seen anything like the wildlife out here.’ Aware that he'd gained a flicker of interest, Never-Never pressed on yet further and he was surprised to hear himself say, ‘I could show you, if you like.’

Penelope looked briefly in Franklin's direction and he jumped in quickly before she could answer. ‘I think that's an excellent idea, darling.’ He turned to Never-Never. ‘How about tomorrow?’

‘Fine by me.’

Late the following morning Penelope returned from her two-hour drive with Never-Never in his battered utility. Franklin hadn't seen her so alive in six months.

‘Have you seen the termite mounds, Franklin?’ she asked. He had, but she didn't wait for an answer. ‘They're ten foot high. And there's so many of them! They look like the columns of a ruined temple. And the wedge-tailed eagles! They're huge. Never-Never says they can lift a calf off the ground. And they climb up in the sky without even moving their wings. So high until you can't see them any more. Never-Never says they drift up on the thermal drafts.’

Franklin had seen the wedge-tailed eagles too. But they were just birds to him. It would never have occurred to him to show Penelope the termite mounds or to study the eagles with her. And yet it was that simple. The change in her was miraculous. He was a little put out that it had been Never-Never who had made the breakthrough but he was grateful nonetheless. He certainly refused to blame himself for not having hit upon the solution. Who could possibly have guessed that Penelope, of all people, would find interest in the outback?

The following day, shortly after dark, Never-Never took Penelope roo-spotting. ‘You shine a light on them,’ he explained, ‘and it hypnotises them.’

Sure enough, the kangaroos stood poised on their hind legs and stared back at the light Never-Never shone on them from the rear of the utility. Apart from an occasional quiver of the nose and twitch of the ears, they were frozen in time.

Never-Never told her that was the way they shot the animals. ‘Always at night,’ he said. ‘When they're under the light you can take your time setting your sights.’

When Penelope expressed her horror, he patiently explained that it was necessary to cull them from time to time. ‘If you let the ‘roos take over, there'd be no grazing for the cattle,’ he said.

‘Do you ride, Mrs Ross?’ he asked on the drive back.

‘You mean horses?’ And she felt a bit foolish when he merely nodded. ‘No,’ she said.

‘Pity. There's yabbies in the creek a couple of miles from the station but you can't get in there by car.’

Penelope didn't know what a yabbie was. He explained that it was a freshwater crustacean, fun to catch and good to eat.

‘Then you must show me how to catch them,’ she said. ‘But first you'll have to teach me how to ride.’ And she laughed.

Never-Never opened the utility door for her when they got back to the homestead. ‘Good night, Mrs Ross,’ he said.

‘Call me Penelope,’ she insisted. ‘Please.’ He nodded a little self-consciously. ‘And please may I call you Kevin? Never-Never is such a ridiculous name.

‘Sure, he shrugged. ‘Doesn't make any difference to me. But secretly he was pleased. Very pleased. Kevin Never-Never Everard was falling hopelessly in love with Penelope.

It wasn't long before Penelope's appetite returned and she lost her gaunt, haunted look. In fact, Franklin decided, he had never seen her so carefree and lacking in inhibitions. He leaned on the fence of the home paddock, with little Terence sitting on the top railing between his arms, watching as Never-Never and Jacky gave Penelope her first riding lesson. He wondered, briefly, whether he should feel jealous. Ridiculous. Never-Never was getting a crush on Penelope - so what; most men did. He was nothing but a novelty to her.