Tiger Men (16 page)

‘How about hollyhocks along here?’ With his hand, Jefferson traced an imaginary path beside the verandah. ‘Such bold and colourful plants, do you not agree?’

The two of them were redesigning the front garden of the house in Napoleon Street, which Hamish McLagan had bought just prior to his wife’s death.

For some time now, Jefferson Powell had been ensconced in the rooms at the rear of the house. Designed by the original owner as servants’ quarters, the rooms had remained unused by Hamish, who had no wish to squander money on domestic help when the household could manage perfectly well without. Upon Jefferson’s arrival, however, Hamish had quickly realised that, in exchange for a rent-free agreement, his new waterman could also serve as gardener and handyman. The arrangement had turned out to be most satisfactory, for the young American had proved not only a hard worker, but highly capable. In fact there seemed little he couldn’t do, Hamish had noted with delight. Why, the man was even educated. And furthermore, he was honest. Jefferson could be trusted to collect the other watermen’s takings and tally up the books at the end of the work day. Hamish McLagan revelled in the bargain that had come his way. All of these talents were at his beck and call, and for a mere pittance.

It was the garden that was to be Doris’s eventual undoing, for it brought her into close contact with the American and forged a bond between them.

On wintry Sundays, after Reverend MacDougall’s service at the Presbyterian Church, which Jefferson regularly attended with the McLagans, the two of them would change into their dungarees and work side by side. They hoed and they weeded and they dug flower beds and, as they did, they talked. Or for the most part, Jefferson did. Doris was more than happy to listen. She had never heard anyone talk as freely as Jefferson Brindsley Powell.

He spoke of his family with great love and pride. He had two brothers and two sisters, he told her. ‘Free-thinkers, all five of us,’ he said. ‘We were brought up to develop our own beliefs and to follow our convictions. It’s what got me into trouble of course – running off to join the French Canadian rebels in their fight for independence. But Pa didn’t try and stop me. “You must do what you think is morally right, son: you must be ruled by your conscience”, that’s what Pa said. It is the way he believes men should lead their lives.’

He told her he’d been named after Thomas Jefferson, the third president of the United States of America. ‘A man of great conviction,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘so as you can see my parents were making a statement right from the start. Why even my middle name was intended as a statement.’ Brindsley, it turned out, was his mother’s maiden name.

‘Martha Brindsley made her own declaration of independence when she married,’ he said. ‘My mother was proud of her family heritage. She believes that women should not be forced to sacrifice their identity upon marriage, so she adopted the surname Brindsley-Powell for both herself and her children.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘She was rather annoyed when at sixteen I dropped the hyphen and kept Brindsley as a middle name only, but by then I was following her example and making my own statement. I found Brindsley-Powell just a little too grand.’

‘Your father allowed his wife such licence?’ Doris was astounded. She could just imagine Hamish McLagan’s reaction should his own wife have suggested so outrageous a notion.

‘Oh yes, I’m sure Pa would have expected no less of my mother when they married. He knew her and loved her for exactly what she was. And no doubt still is,’ Jefferson added fondly, ‘for I cannot see her ever changing. Martha Brindsley-Powell is more than a free-thinker, she’s an outright radical. She believes there will come a day when women will be given the democratic right to vote, and she intends to fight for that right. All citizens must have a voice, she says, and until such a day comes we do not have a true democracy.’

‘She sounds like a very strong woman, your mother.’

‘Oh, yes indeed.’

How I would like to meet such a woman, Doris thought. She had loved and respected her own mother, but she knew well that words such as those could never have passed Barbara McLagan’s lips. For as long as Doris could remember, everything she had heard from her parents had related to duty. Freedom of choice and personal views of any nature had rarely come up for discussion in the McLagan household. In fact the more Doris listened to Jefferson the more she realised that very little had come up for discussion in the McLagan household.

‘You must miss your family,’ she said, recognising as she did how inadequate such a comment must sound.

‘I do,’ he replied. He didn’t appear to find her comment inadequate at all. ‘I miss them very much. But I have only a year or so to serve on my ticket-of-leave, and I’m saving every penny. I’ll get home one day. I’ll see them again.’

He seemed supremely confident, which Doris found rather surprising. Convicts who were granted ticket-of-leave rights were not permitted to return to their homeland upon the completion of their sentence, the reasoning no doubt being they were essential to populate the colony. Besides, she thought, no matter how hard Jefferson saved, the pittance he received from her father was hardly likely to purchase his passage home.

She was determined to assist in whatever way she could, however, and she approached her father that very night regarding a raise in the American’s salary. She made no personal plea on Jefferson’s behalf – like Sid Tebbutt, Doris knew exactly how to manipulate Hamish McLagan. She merely suggested that, as Jefferson Powell was carrying the workload of two men he should receive, if not double his wages, at least a substantial increase upon his current meagre stipend, or else they might risk losing his services to an employer who recognised his full worth.

‘But the man has free board and lodgings, Doris,’ Hamish had said, bewildered by his daughter’s request, ‘why should the company reimburse him any further?’

‘I do not intend for the company to reimburse him, father. As most of his extra duties revolve around the house and the garden, he shall be paid from my housekeeping allowance. It will mean some necessary cutbacks in expenditure of course, but I’m sure we can forgo several of our little luxuries, for if we do not I genuinely believe we will lose him to a higher bidder.’

Doris had left no grounds for negotiation. She was willing to forgo the new drawing room curtains and the fine bone china tea service she’d intended to order, she said, and there were other sundry items they could well do without, like the regular deliveries of shortbread and the crate of fine Scotch whisky that arrived twice a year.

Hamish capitulated immediately. They dared not risk the loss of such a valuable employee, he agreed, and he made the magnanimous decision, much as he respected Doris’s offer, not to create further hardship for her. The cutbacks in expenditure she had suggested would not be necessary as the raise in the man’s salary would be met directly by the company.

Doris congratulated herself on her accomplishment.

Six months later, however, she found herself undone by her own cleverness. She realised, upon reflection, how extraordinarily ignorant she’d been. Of course she should have expected such an outcome. But she had been taken completely by surprise.

‘I have an announcement to make,’ Jefferson said.

It was a Sunday in November. They were in the front garden, but they were not wearing their dungarees. They were dressed in their best having just returned from church, and they were seated on the wooden garden seat (which Jefferson himself had made) admiring the fruits of their labour. The landscaping had long been completed and an abundance of late spring blossom surrounded them.

‘I’ve been longing to tell you, but I wanted to pick the right time and place, and this is certainly it.’ He gazed about with a smile that was positively joyful. ‘What a triumph your garden has proved to be, Doris. What an absolute triumph. And when the saplings are grown, they’ll complete the picture perfectly. Silver birches are such elegant trees.’

‘Longing to tell me what?’ she urged with her customary bluntness. She was intrigued by his apparent state of elation and exasperated that he wasn’t getting to the point. It was typical of Jefferson.

He turned to face her. ‘You will shortly be looking at a time-expired man,’ he proudly declared, which left her none the wiser.

‘And what exactly does that mean?’

‘It means that I visited the offices of the Superintendent of Prisons on Friday,’ he announced. ‘It means that the Superintendent’s Secretary himself has confirmed the fact that my sentence will officially expire in six months’ time and that I will once again be a free man.’

‘Oh, Jefferson, that’s wonderful. That’s truly wonderful.’ Doris’s face lit up with one of her rare smiles, which to Jefferson always seemed like a personal gift, for Doris did not know how to smile falsely. ‘I’m happy for you,’ she said. ‘I’m so very, very happy for you.’ She was. At that moment, before her mind absorbed the ramifications of his news, Doris was overjoyed that Jefferson Powell was to be granted the freedom he so rightfully deserved.

‘I’ll be able to go home, Doris,’ he said. ‘As a citizen of the United States of America, I will be free to return to my native land.’

It took a moment to sink in. Then she realised. Of course. Jefferson was not shackled by the ticket-of-leave chains that forced British ex-convicts to remain in the colony. He was an American citizen. He was free to leave the moment he had served his sentence.

It was only then that the ramifications hit, and they hit with brutal force. He’s leaving, she thought. He’s actually leaving! She was happy for him, of course she was. He was to be reunited with his family, why would she
not
be happy for him? But she could not rid herself of an unexpected and devastating sense of loss.

‘And it’s all because of you,’ Jefferson continued, completely unaware of the impact his news had had upon her. ‘I know that you persuaded your father to increase my wages, and I’m deeply grateful. I would never have earned enough to buy my passage to America had it not been for you, Doris.’

‘Rubbish,’ she said briskly. ‘You would eventually have come to your senses and found an employer who would pay you your full worth, rather than slaving for the pittance my father gave you.’

He was shocked by her ruthlessness. ‘I could never have left your father’s employ,’ he protested, ‘not for as long as I remained in Van Diemen’s Land. Why I shall be forever in his debt. Hamish McLagan was the only man prepared to give me a chance.’

‘Of course he was: you’re quite right.’ She stood, calling a halt to the conversation. She could not bring herself to disillusion him, realising as she now did that, for all his liberal upbringing, Jefferson Brindsley Powell was a true innocent at heart. She was two years younger and far less educated than he, but she suddenly felt so much older and wiser.

Jefferson also stood. ‘I want to thank you,’ he said, taking her hand in both of his. ‘I want to thank you, Doris, for all you have done for me.’

‘There is no need for thanks,’ she replied with a squeeze of her hand. She could have left it at that. But she didn’t.

Doris would never know what drove her to act as she then did. She was not a creature of impulse and rarely displayed emotion, but for some strange reason she felt a sudden and intense desire to communicate. She reached up her hand and touched his face, her fingers resting against his cheek with infinite tenderness.

‘My dearest friend,’ she said, ‘for that is what you are, Jefferson. That is what you have become to me. It is
I
who must thank
you
. I will miss you sorely when you leave, but I will be all the richer for having known you.’ She gave him the gift of her smile. ‘I will value our friendship forever,’ she said, and she embraced him.

As she put her arms around him she felt him physically flinch and for a moment she thought he was about to pull away. Then he returned the embrace, but he did so awkwardly, clumsily, and she knew he was embarrassed by the physical contact. They parted quickly, Doris appalled that he had found her action so confronting and possibly even repellent. She felt shockingly self-conscious, and the startled look she met in his eyes made her doubly so, but she was not about to apologise.

‘I won’t bite,’ she said caustically, ‘there’s no need to be frightened.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he replied. ‘You took me by surprise, that’s all.’

‘I meant what I said, Jefferson.’ She gathered her dignity about her. ‘I value your friendship.’

‘As I do yours, Doris, as I do yours.’ He looked wretched and guilty. ‘Your friendship is so very precious to me,’ he assured her desperately, ‘please, please believe me. ’

‘Very well, I will believe you. I am going inside now.’

Over the ensuing weeks they did not speak of the incident, but Jefferson’s manner underwent a radical change as he sought fervently to make amends. He was forever doing little things to please her. He would present her with a freshly picked bouquet of flowers, or a jar of her favourite boiled sweets purchased from the confectioners. He is like a forlorn puppy, Doris thought, eager to be forgiven for chewing a favourite slipper or digging a hole in the garden.

‘I’m not angry, you know,’ she was finally driven to comment. ‘You don’t need to keep currying favour.’

‘I’m glad you’re not angry, Doris. I would do anything, anything in the world, rather than anger or offend you in any way.’

Anything in the world? she wondered. Would you stay with me, Jefferson? Would you never return to America, but stay here with me in Van Diemen’s Land forever?

‘Very well,’ she said, ‘let’s start this Sunday by digging a brand new flower bed just for roses. I have received some fine cuttings from Mrs MacDougall.’

Doris had finally recognised the truth. It had come as a complete revelation. She was in love with Jefferson Powell and had been for a long time, possibly even from the moment they’d first met. The symptoms had always been there, she realised, but she had failed, perhaps deliberately, to acknowledge them as anything other than friendship. She acknowledged them now, and in doing so she found the force of her love frightening. She had not known she was capable of such emotional depths: the sheer joy she felt simply being in his presence; the dismay that engulfed her at the prospect of his leaving. If she were never to see him again her life would be meaningless. If only I could find a way to make him stay, she thought, cursing herself for having been the very instrument of his departure. If she hadn’t interfered, he would have remained loyally slaving away for a pittance.