Freedom's Land (10 page)

Surely, there would be opportunities for themselves and the children here? It might not be quite as the pamphlet had said, but the land was there, land just for the taking. You could see that as you drove along. So much land and so few people.

She wasn’t going to let things get her down. She was going to make a success of their new life, whatever it took. But she was glad she’d made friends with Norah. They’d be able to help one another.

7

I
t was late afternoon by the time the overloaded trucks chugged slowly up a slight incline where the land was cleared at each side of the track. The driver of the first one called, ‘Here it is, folks, your new home!’ A bit further on, he yelled, ‘This is the main camp!’ and everyone craned their necks to look at the place they’d come so far to live in.

The car breasted the top of the slope and turned off the track on to some cleared land, following faint wheel marks across ground still littered with small branches, twigs and dead leaves.

Two men were working there, erecting tents. They had two up and were fitting poles together for a third one.

The first truck rolled to a halt nearby, then the second and third pulled up behind them. The drivers stayed where they were, stretching and easing their shoulders.

Without the noise of the motors, the silence was broken only by distant birdsong and the buzzing of insects. People stayed where they were, not moving, staring, twisting their heads from side to side, unable to believe this was it. The cleared space was surrounded by forest. There were no chequered fields or hedges, no cattle grazing, no green grass even, only trees that made them feel tiny and a sky whose huge blue arch was unbroken by clouds.

The burning sun was moving inexorably down towards the horizon, yet even now, in the late afternoon, it was hot and the faces of the people in the trucks were reddened by the sun, their shoulders drooping like flowers in the heat.

Then the men erecting the tents broke the silence by shouting a greeting and striding across to the trucks.

‘Welcome to Special Group One! I’m Gil Matthews, your foreman, and this is Pete Hessel, my deputy.’

‘This can’t be our land!’ Bert exclaimed. ‘It
can’t
!’

Gil looked at him sympathetically, remembering from his war service how neat and tidy England and Europe had been, how firmly under man’s control nature was there. Here men were tiny and nature was dominant.

Suddenly there was a mad scramble to get off the trucks, with parents shouting instructions to children to stay close by, husbands and wives moving to stand together until all the adults were gathered round the lean foreman with his tanned face and sun-bleached light brown hair. He looked as if he was used to hard physical work.

He was of middle height, shorter than some of the other men, but he had a presence that made them pay attention to him as he pushed up the sweat-dampened bandana round his forehead. ‘Welcome to Special Group One, though it isn’t the welcome you or I expected, I’m afraid.’

‘Where are the farms?’ someone shouted.

Gil waved one hand to encompass the surroundings. ‘The blocks of land are spread along the track, marked out with boundary pegs. They’ll need more land clearing before you can farm them properly. The Board has sent some tents and equipment to start you off, and the material for temporary shacks will be coming soon, though we’ll have to erect them ourselves. The proper houses will be built later.’

‘But they said there’d be a farmhouse, pastures, outbuildings!’ an older man protested, his voice breaking with the depth of his disappointment.

‘There will. But this group has been put together in a hurry, and there’s no denying that those doing the organising have let us down. Governments promise a lot of things, but it’s people who have to carry them through. Everyone’s been working flat out round here, because there are other groups besides yours. We’ve not got your houses up yet and we won’t for a while but the shacks will at least give you shelter. And the Board will pay you to clear the blocks, so you won’t be without a means of earning a living in the meantime.’

This was greeted with another silence. Men’s fists were clenched, knuckles white, one woman put a hand across her mouth, a tear ran down another woman’s face and the children stood looking from one grown-up to another, knowing something was badly wrong, but not sure what.

Gil let the information sink in for another moment or two, then turned and gestured to the piles of boxes and equipment spread out across the dry ground. ‘We need to finish setting up the tents, so that you’ve somewhere to sleep tonight. We’ll have to dig latrines too. Ladies, there’s bread and tinned meat and potatoes, and cooking pots. Can you prepare us some sort of meal?’ He squinted up through the trees at the long slanting shadows of early evening. ‘If we work hard, we men can get enough tents up to give us all shelter, though some of you will have to share tonight. Fortunately, it doesn’t look like rain.’

There was another hubbub as people spoke to one another, shouted questions at him and at least two of the eight women started crying in earnest, which set off some of the children too.

Norah waited a moment to see if anyone else volunteered, but as they didn’t she moved forward. ‘They reckon I’m a fair cook, so if you’ll show me the food and light me a fire, Mr Matthews, I’ll see what I can organise.’

‘Gil. We use first names in Australia.’

‘Gil,’ she repeated obediently. ‘And I’m Norah.’

‘Norah.’ He smiled at her approvingly. ‘We’ve got some loaves, at least. If you’re careful, there should be enough for tonight’s meal and breakfast, but we’ll need to bake some more tomorrow. I can show you how to make damper bread, which doesn’t need yeast, but there are only three camp ovens to bake it in, so it’ll be an ongoing job till we get better organised.’

He looked round as two lads started yelling at one another and raised his voice again. ‘Someone needs to keep an eye on the kids. Until me and Pete can teach them what’s dangerous and what isn’t, they’re best staying close to camp. They can gather twigs and branches for the fire, but they’ll need to watch out for spiders and scorpions, so kick the branches before you pick them up, kids.’

Gil watched as his words sank in. It all hung in the balance, with some people still looking absolutely furious, two or three complaining to one another and the sun sinking inexorably. Which reminded him. He needed to find the hurricane lamps.

Then an older woman stepped forward. ‘I’ll help you with the cooking, Norah. Come on, you lot. We’ve families to feed.’

She’s another good ’un, Gil thought. ‘Get the lamps out, Pete.’ He didn’t waste time seeing that done, but turned back to the group. ‘Can anyone erect tents? Good. You’re in charge of that one,’ he gestured to a pile of equipment. ‘What’s your name? Andrew. Right. And we need someone to dig latrines, one for the ladies and one for the men.’

To his surprise, the man who had been complaining most stepped forward and said sulkily, ‘I’ll see to that, if someone will help me. Name’s Bert Grenville.’

‘Spades are over there. Someone help him.’

Gil hadn’t the energy to jolly them along, so he lit another cooking fire for the capable looking woman who’d first volunteered, ignored the grumblers and concentrated on providing shelter, food and sanitation. Nights could be quite cool here, even in summer. He helped those dealing with the tents to pick out suitable level ground and left them to it. Pete had found some hurricane lanterns and oil, thank goodness, and one of the women was filling them and setting them out ready for lighting.

He nipped across to check the latrines.

‘We didn’t want to go too far away and we couldn’t put the latrines too near the creek, so this is the best place,’ Bert said even before Gil reached him, looking as if he expected an argument.

He was surprised by the competent job the sour-faced fellow was doing. ‘You’re right. It is the best place. I can see you’ve done this before.’

‘Show me a soldier who hasn’t! But how can we give people privacy? The ladies won’t want to do it in public, you know.’

‘We can’t do anything about privacy tonight,’ Gil said. ‘Just dig the trenches and tell people who’s to use which. No, it’s no use arguing, that’s how it is. There’s too much to sort out before it gets dark.’

Gil walked off before the man could protest further. Already the weight of the responsibility was sitting heavily on his shoulders. What did the complainers think he was? A miracle worker?

He was relieved to see that the women had made a cup of tea for everyone in one of the big cooking pots and the older children were fetching in branches and twigs to feed the fires. A young woman with a pretty face held out a cup for him. It had no milk and tealeaves were floating in it, but they’d sweetened it and it went down easily, soothing his dry throat and putting warmth in his belly. He realised suddenly that it had been several hours since he’d eaten.

‘Did you find something to cook for tea?’

She smiled at him. ‘Oh, yes. Corned beef hash. Norah’s overseeing that and I’m in charge of making cups of tea. There aren’t enough cups but we’re taking it in turns to drink. Is there some water I can use to wash them out and another bucket to fetch it in?’

He should have realised they’d need several buckets. He sorted those out and an enamel jug to use as a dipper for the tea, then led her to the side of the block where the creek trickled. Frogs were croaking already and cicadas creaking out their nightly choruses. ‘Careful. It’s marshy here. Come round this way.’

Without thinking he held out one hand to help her and as she set hers in it, he paused for a moment in shock, because for the first time since Mabel’s death, the very first time, he was aware of a woman’s attractiveness. He carried on speaking, hoping she hadn’t noticed his reaction to her, but she had, he could see a hint of a smile in her eyes. Some women seemed to be born knowing the effect they had on men. Not that this one seemed a flirt, nothing like that. Just – a very attractive woman.

‘Get your water there. You’d better dip it up with the jug. Don’t disturb the bottom or the water will be cloudy. Tomorrow we’ll dig a deeper hole in the creek so you can put your bucket in more easily. I’ll put these branches as markers to show you the best path when you need more water.’ As he picked up a dead branch, something scuttled off into the undergrowth and she squeaked. ‘Nothing to harm you here, except snakes and they usually slither away unless you attack them.’

She shivered. ‘I’ll not do that.’

‘Stamp your feet when you’re walking in areas with debris and low plants where they might be hiding. They’ll feel the vibrations and get out of the way.’

‘I never thought of there being snakes,’ she said wonderingly. ‘We’ve a lot to learn about Australia, haven’t we, Mr Matthews?’

‘Gil.’

‘And I’m Irene.’

A voice called his name sharply and he sighed. ‘I’d better hurry. You hold the lamp and I’ll help you get a bucket of clean water first.’

While she held the lamp up, he dipped the water up carefully then carried the bucket back for her. By that time the voice was calling out for him again, sounding extremely indignant. ‘Got to go. Will you be all right now?’

‘Yes, of course.’

There were six tents up by the time it grew dark. As the eight families gathered round the two camp fires, Gil noted who sat there waiting for someone to tell them what to do next and who got on with things of their own accord.

‘We’ve got some bush rugs to keep you warm at night,’ he said once they were settled down and eating their corned beef hash, drinking tea from any kind of receptacle they could find to make up for the shortage of cups. ‘We’ve not unpacked all the boxes, but so far we’ve not found any groundsheets, so you’d be best sleeping in pairs with one bush rug under you and one over you. We call them blueys, by the way, for obvious reasons.’

Silence and a few nods greeted his words. The poor devils looked exhausted. Well, he was pretty tired himself.

‘I shall complain about this to the authorities,’ Bert said.

‘You go ahead and complain, mate. If they take any notice, I’ll get you to do my complaining too.’ Gil didn’t know what to make of that fellow. He’d worked hard and done a good job with the latrines, not the most pleasant of jobs – but had never stopped complaining. ‘In the meantime, we have to do our best with what we’ve got. Now, if you’ve all finished eating, I reckon we’d better sort out who sleeps where. Some of you will have to share tents tonight, but at least you’ll be out of the cold.’

He was going to sleep in the open near the fire. Not a hardship at this time of year and he’d had enough of being surrounded by people for one day. Pete could sleep where he wanted.

To his annoyance, Gil found himself watching Irene as she helped clear up then got ready for bed. That puzzled him. Why her? Why had being close to her roused his body after years of not desiring anyone or anything? She was happily married, from the way she looked at her husband, and at least ten years younger than Gil. Ah, he was a fool.

He fell asleep, still wondering about Irene, what had brought her here, how she’d get on as a settler.

Norah laid out the blankets in their half of the tent, arranged for Janie to sleep with a girl from the other family sharing with them, then went out for a stroll to let the other adults get ready for bed. Strange that the first time she’d be sharing a bed with her husband would be in such circumstances.

She felt shy as she went back to the tent and used the darkness to slip a nightdress on over her underwear. She’d stopped wearing corsets on board the ship and loved the freedom of not being constrained. It’d be foolish to sleep all night in her outer clothes, though, and make them even more crumpled. She didn’t know how she was going to get washed in the morning, though.

As the foreman had said, it had grown rapidly cooler as it grew dark and she shivered as she lay down beside Andrew, closing her eyes with a tired sigh.