A Distant Journey Read online

  In the vestibule, the men hung up their hats as a short woman with tightly permed hair hurried in to greet them. She was introduced as Mrs Flowers, the housekeeper, and as she shook Cindy’s hand she flicked her gaze over the new Mrs Parnell and smiled warmly.

  ‘Welcome to Kingsley Downs,’ she said. ‘You must be feeling tired after your trip.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Cindy, smiling back.

  ‘Show her where she can freshen up, Mrs F. Can you make her a cup of tea or something? We’ll be in Dad’s office. Won’t be long,’ said Murray, as he and Lawrence walked away.

  Cindy looked somewhat forlornly at Murray’s retreating back before she followed Mrs Flowers to a guest bathroom, noticing the polished wooden floorboards and Persian carpet runner in the hallway, and the framed historic photographs on the walls, as well as photos of horses, dogs and prize-beribboned sheep. When she’d finished washing her hands and splashing water on her face, she looked for Mrs Flowers. Having no idea where to find her, Cindy wandered through the sitting room, the formal dining room with its long rosewood table surrounded by twelve chairs, till eventually she stepped through some French doors onto the verandah, which was a long, spaciously shady place dotted with well-worn leather furniture.

  Vines twined around the verandah columns and in the distance, beyond the formal gardens, she could make out a clump of bare willows and a slight glint of water.

  ‘Ah, there you are,’ Mrs Flowers said, stepping out onto the verandah. ‘Tea’s ready. I’ll bring it out here. Would you like a quick tour round the big house while it’s brewing, dear?’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Flowers, if it’s no trouble.’

  Mrs Flowers showed her the kitchen and the well-stocked pantry. She pointed to some of the outbuildings and told Cindy they were for the staff, although she explained that she and her husband, Tom, who was the station manager, had their own cottage some distance away.

  ‘How long have you been here, Mrs Flowers?’ asked Cindy politely.

  ‘Years now. Since Murray was a boy. Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the house, if you like.’

  Cindy followed the housekeeper down a long corridor to another part of the large house.

  ‘This was Mr and Mrs Parnell’s room,’ said Mrs Flowers as they passed a set of inlaid double doors. ‘It isn’t much used any more, except when important guests come to stay. Mr Parnell uses the smaller third bedroom now because it’s opposite his office.’ Cindy lingered in the hall peering into the dim rooms. Though clean and neat, they felt abandoned and cold. She realised Mrs Flowers was waiting for her, so sped up to keep pace with the housekeeper. ‘This bedroom is called the ladies’ room and it’s used for guests as well. There are two more bedrooms out the back. Any more guests and they have to make do with the verandah. But people don’t mind sleeping out there, although it can be pretty cold at night, this time of year,’ said Mrs Flowers cheerily.

  Even so, Cindy wasn’t surprised people preferred the verandah. The rooms were dim and heavy with old-­fashioned furniture, and hung with sombre curtains. After the glass and light of the homes in Palm Springs, she felt she’d suffocate inside these rooms. If Murray’s home had furniture and drapes like these, they’d be the first things she’d change, she thought.

  ‘Of course, my dear, Kingsley Downs station is rather like a large family,’ continued Mrs Flowers, as they walked back round to the front of the house. ‘We’re all thrown together, station hands and the like. You’ll get used to it. Come on, let’s have our cuppa.’

  Over their tea, Mrs Flowers asked Cindy a lot of questions about her life in America, and when Cindy told her that she had once danced with Kirk Douglas, the housekeeper was enchanted.

  ‘That’s amazing,’ said Mrs Flowers, beaming at Cindy. ‘I’ve never known anyone who’s even seen a Hollywood star, let alone danced with one. The most exciting thing that’s happened here was when Mr Parnell danced with the Queen in ’54. Wait till I tell Tom you’ve met film stars!’

  For the first time since she’d set foot in tiny Deniliquin Airport, Cindy felt that someone was pleased that she was there. Though she didn’t want to admit it, the rest of her arrival had been such a disappointment. She looked down into her teacup and felt a lump rising in her throat. The house was grand, but cold and empty. Her father-in-law had shown such disinterest in her, almost to the point of rudeness, and Murray had disappeared as soon as they’d set foot in the house. She’d thought she might have been greeted with some enthusiasm and acknowledgement. Instead she felt completely out of place, like the proverbial fish out of water. She felt alone and inexperienced and totally at sea in her new surroundings. It wasn’t at all what she had expected.

  As she cleared away the teacups, Mrs Flowers peered at her. ‘Are you all right, dear?’

  ‘Just tired,’ Cindy said weakly. She excused herself and walked out into the garden and around the house.

  She took a few deep breaths and tried to steady herself as she looked around. There were several trees which she didn’t recognise, and a rusty wrought-iron seat beneath one of them. She wondered if she should venture down to the creek, but as she got to the fence she couldn’t see a path, and the ground looked too uneven for her high-heeled shoes. Besides, it was almost dark. As she turned back towards the house, Murray appeared on the verandah and called to her, ‘Cindy, dinner is ready.’

  *

  The rosewood dining table was set formally with silver salt and pepper cruets, a silver gravy boat and crystal glasses. Mrs Flowers carried in a covered platter and set it in the centre of the table. ‘You said not to do anything special for tonight, so I’ve just carved the roast, Mr Parnell, and there’s potatoes, sprouts and carrots as well.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Flowers.’

  ‘Cindy, help yourself,’ said Murray, pushing the platter of meat and vegetables towards her.

  Lawrence was seated at the head of the table, with Cindy on his left and Murray on his right. There was desultory conversation, which mainly covered sheep and the working dogs. Cindy tried to be interested, but her ignorance on the subjects was clear. Once they had finished the main course, Mrs Flowers cleared the plates away before returning with a bowl of jelly and a dish of tinned pears in their juice. When they’d finished eating, Lawrence pushed back his chair.

  ‘Do you want a port, Murray?’

  ‘No, thanks. We’d better be off, Dad. I’ll be back in the morning.’

  ‘Right. Good night, then.’ As they walked into the hallway, Lawrence shook Murray’s hand again and retreated into his office with barely a glance at Cindy.

  A station wagon was parked in front of the house and their luggage had already been loaded into it. As Murray drove away into the darkness, Cindy breathed a sigh of relief that she didn’t have to live with Murray’s father. The man just didn’t want to speak to her. In fact, he’d seemed to despise her on sight, she thought miserably. Maybe he’s furious about the marriage? she thought. Still, Lawrence doesn’t seem to be upset with Murray.

  They had been driving for the best part of twenty minutes before Cindy saw the outline of a house. It was long and low and had a bull-nosed verandah. The bulky outlines of a nearby shed and circular water tank were just visible in the moonlight.

  Murray pulled up outside the house. ‘This is home.

  I thought Tom would get one of the boys to start the generator so we’d have some lights. Never mind, I can do it.’ He turned to Cindy. ‘Do you want me to carry you over the threshold?’

  Cindy shook her head. ‘No, it’s okay.’ She picked up her handbag and got out. She frowned. ‘We need a generator?’

  ‘No mains power out here, so it’s the only source of power at night. The genny’s going to be your best friend. Sit tight and I’ll get her going. It’s in a shed at the back.’ Murray disappeared into the night.

  Cindy stood in the silent blackness, shivering when she realised the
re was not a light to be seen except for those in the sky. She could be on another planet with all that nothingness out there. She felt overwhelmed. What had she come to? She’d always loved the space, the openness of the desert and its night sky, but in Palm Springs there were always the twinkling lights from cars and houses. Here it was just … emptiness.

  Then, with a bang, a roaring animal seemed to come to life, hammering and reverberating inside its metal confines. Cindy jumped and gasped.

  ‘Right, got that generator going. I’ll turn the lights on as soon as we’re inside,’ said Murray, reappearing around the side of the house. He took her by the elbow and guided her up several steps and along the wooden verandah to the front door, which he pushed open. He reached inside and flicked a switch. A dim, sallow light brought to life a depressing tunnel of dark wood, spotted wallpaper and faded linoleum.

  ‘The kitchen is at the end, turn right. See what you can find. Mrs Flowers said there was food and milk for our tea. I’ll bring in the bags,’ said Murray, heading back outside.

  Cindy stepped gingerly into the house. There was a long central hallway with rooms off either side. Cindy slowly started working her way along it, walking into each room and flicking on old light switches to illuminate drab, barely furnished spaces which looked as though they hadn’t been touched in twenty years. There was a strong, musty smell in the air. The lounge room was small and cramped with mismatched chairs, each with a little drinks table beside it. A dusty traymobile with upturned glasses and decanters stood in one corner. Cindy pulled the heavy curtains at the main windows to one side and sank into a chair, staring into the darkened garden in dismay.

  ‘There’s a kerosene fridge in the kitchen and it’s going,’ said Murray, coming into the room and sitting in the chair next to her. ‘You can get the wood oven started in the morning. We won’t worry about it tonight.’ When she didn’t answer, he said quietly, ‘Look, Cindy, I know this place needs some work. There’ve only been station hands living here for the past few years, but you’ll get it sorted.’

  Cindy swallowed hard. ‘Did you say there was a wood stove?’ she asked faintly. ‘I … I don’t know how to use a wood stove. I’ve only ever used an electric one. You know, you turn a knob and the thing works.’

  ‘Of course the wood stove might be a bit of a challenge for you at first,’ said Murray, as he leaned over and took her hand. ‘But sweetheart, it’s going to be all right. Once you get used to it, you’ll love it. I’m sure Mrs Flowers will show you how to use it in no time.’

  Cindy’s eyes filled with tears and she put a hand over her mouth as she tried to stifle a sob.

  ‘Don’t get upset,’ Murray said, gently taking her hands in his. ‘What’s important is that we’re together.

  I love you, Cin.’ He reached out a hand and wiped a tear from her face, smiling at her reassuringly.

  Cindy felt a rush of love and she squeezed his hand. She brushed the tears from her eyes. ‘I guess I’m tired. It’s such a big move. I just feel so disoriented.’

  Murray nodded sympathetically. ‘Don’t fret. Everyone will love you. Besides, you have spunk, Cindy. You came here with me, didn’t you? It takes a certain type of person to live on the land, but I’m betting you’re up for it.’

  Cindy looked at Murray and all at once the spirit of adventure that had so attracted her to him in the first place reasserted itself.

  ‘I know I am.’ She gave him a watery smile. ‘I saw some sheets in the bedroom. I’m guessing Mrs Flowers left them there, so I’ll make up the bed, if you like.’

  Murray gave her a cheeky grin. ‘Good idea. I’ll turn the generator off for the night and we can hit the sack. I’ve a big day tomorrow.’

  *

  Cindy woke in the not quite daylight as she heard Murray’s boots clomp along the verandah and a car engine start. She lay there in the dim, unfamiliar room for a few moments, trying to adjust to where she was. Then it all came back to her in a rush; the flight, meeting Lawrence, the house … She felt a sense of doom wash over her and she squeezed her eyes tight. No, she thought resolutely.

  I love my husband. I’m here for an adventure. I’m going to make the best of it.

  She sat up. It was so quiet. Nothing seemed to be moving, although she could hear some birds singing. She was longing for a cup of coffee. Cindy slid from the bed and pulled the curtains apart. Murray liked to sleep in a cave. She looked out, and stretching as far as she could see was a flat tawny grass plain, monotonous and parched. Bleached wooden fences and the glint of the shed’s tin roof in the first sunrays caught her eye. Distant grey clusters of animals were dotted here and there, and she guessed they were sheep. There seemed to be no water or shelter for them save for a distant row of sturdy trees.

  She took a short shower, not just because Murray had told her that water needed to be conserved, but also because the water was freezing. She dressed and walked into the kitchen, where she looked helplessly at the wood-fuelled oven and the refrigerator. Cindy shuddered and checked to see if by chance Murray had thought to get in coffee for her. Australians didn’t seem to drink it, so she wasn’t terribly surprised when she couldn’t find any. Resignedly she looked for a teabag instead, but all she found was loose tea leaves in the caddy next to a large china teapot under a knitted cosy. The novelty of the knitted hat on the pot made her smile for a moment. In the kerosene refrigerator was a jug of milk, a bottle of lemonade and three large bottles of pilsener beer amongst the butter and jars and dishes of unrecognisable products. Cindy had no idea when Murray would be back, and with no way of cooking anything, or even boiling water, until she’d learned how to work the wood oven, she decided to go for a walk. She pulled her cardigan around her and stepped outside.

  The air was crisp and fresh, though she expected the day would warm up. She trudged around the house, assessing its layout and hoping to find a woodpile from which to light the wood oven. But all she saw depressed her further. She could see there had once been an effort made to grow a kitchen garden, but it was now a patch of brown weeds. She found what she thought must be the laundry room, since strands of clothesline ran alongside it. The room contained two large tubs and a tap, and what she thought at first was a washing machine, but on closer inspection realised was only a freestanding metal tub. How am I supposed to wash clothes out here? she thought to herself in dismay.

  She went back indoors, agitation rising in her chest as she walked from room to room. The large kitchen was sparsely furnished with a dining table and chairs, but there was no sign of any modern appliances. There were three bedrooms, the small lounge room she’d seen the previous evening and the very basic bathroom she had used that morning. The best part of the house seemed to be the long verandah that ran along the front, which was furnished with a few old cane chairs. She sat down on one of these and looked across the frosty brown paddocks, and wondered what on earth she was going to do next. It was so quiet and still. She was used to noise, movement, people. From somewhere in the house she heard a clock chime and then silence descended again. Oh my goodness, she thought. Is this where I’m going to spend the rest of my life?

  Then, to her relief, she noticed a cloud of dust in the distance and realised that it was a car coming towards the house.

  ‘There you are,’ said Murray, as he got out of an old ute.

  ‘Where did you think I’d be,’ Cindy replied crossly. ‘Where did you go? I had no idea when you’d be back.’

  ‘I went to see Dad. Mrs F made me breakfast while I was there, so you won’t have to worry about making me any at all.’

  ‘Murray! All I’ve had is a glass of water. I have no idea how to work anything in that kitchen,’ exclaimed Cindy in exasperation. ‘I couldn’t have made you breakfast even if you’d asked me to.’

  ‘Keep your hair on, Cin.’ He walked inside and Cindy followed him through to the kitchen. ‘I’ll get the stove started, so we can have a cuppa.
The fridge runs on kerosene, by the way, so you can’t let the kero run out.’ He opened the cupboard doors. ‘Not much in here,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to do a run into town.’

  ‘Today?’ asked Cindy.

  ‘I was thinking tomorrow,’ Murray said casually.

  Cindy stared at him. ‘What about meals? What am I going to cook?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll let Mrs F know and we can eat with Dad.’

  Having dinner with Murray’s taciturn father was the last thing Cindy wanted. ‘We’re not going to be eating with your father every night, are we?’ she asked. ‘I’d like to look after you. After all, I am your wife.’

  Murray gave her a lopsided grin. ‘You said you couldn’t cook. I thought you’d be happy going over to Dad’s and letting Mrs F look after us.’

  Cindy could think of nothing worse. She’d rather try her hand at cooking on that wood stove than sit through another dinner under Lawrence’s unwelcoming gaze.

  ‘Murray, I want us to start a life together. Just the two of us. You know, like the TV commercials. Husband comes home to a nice baked dinner and wife in a frilly apron.’

  Murray laughed. ‘Fair enough. All right, put your glad rags on and we’ll head off to town right now and stock up. Might grab a bite to eat while we’re there. Save having to worry about lunch. We’ll fire up the wood stove later.’

  Happy to be getting out of the house and heading into town, Cindy selected grey pants, a silk shirt and a beaded pink cardigan, as well as a pair of grey leather flat shoes with cute bows on top. She slung a fine woollen scarf over her shoulders in case it was windy, adjusted her make-up and grabbed the good black leather shoulder bag Alice had given her.