Beyond the crushing wave.., p.24
Beyond the Crushing Waves, page 24
“I’ll get him back. I promise you.”
Max’s brow furrowed. “What? You mean Forrest?”
Harry dipped his head.
“No, don’t do that. I don’t want you to do anything.”
“What? Why not? He deserves it. I should kill him for what he did…” His hands balled into fists at his sides, his head hot.
Max let his eyes drift shut, his face growing pale. He shifted in place, grimacing as he manoeuvred into a more comfortable position. Then he spoke again in a pained voice. “Promise me you won’t get back at Forrest over this. Please.”
That made no sense. Forrest should’ve been reported to the police. Prison was too good for the man. He couldn’t get away with it. Crew had gotten away with hurting Mary. Now Forrest would walk away from injuring Max. “I don’t understand. Why don’t you want him to pay for what he did? He should’ve been arrested.”
“Like I told you before, he’s not so bad. Most of the time, he’s a decent guy. He’s getting me something to eat and some milk because he feels sorry for what he did. I don’t want…” Max swallowed, and his voice cracked. “I don’t want to lose him. He cares about me—really, he does. He told me so on the way home from the hospital. Promised it wouldn’t happen again. Said he’s working on his temper.”
“And you believe him?” Harry fumed.
“Yeah, I do. And, besides, if he goes, who else is there? Elsa’s the only other family I have in the world. It’s okay for you. You had a mother, so you know what it’s like. I’ve never had anyone but Forrest and Elsa.”
“You’ve got me,” replied Harry.
Max grinned. “Glad to hear it.”
Harry paced to the other side of the room and slapped a hand against one of the bunk beds. “It’s not right.”
“It’s what I want.”
“Fine, I’ll keep my cool for you.”
“Thanks, mate. You’re a good friend.”
The bell rang. Harry hesitated, then waved goodbye and plunged through the cottage door, headed out to do his evening chores. His thoughts in turmoil, he broke into a jog and before long found himself sprinting through the village. When he reached the stables, he slowed to a jog, then stopped at the fence to watch the horses graze. Animals gave him a sense of peace, even when his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to punch someone, to hit something until it broke apart under his bloodied fists. Instead, he slapped the fence. One of the horses, a grey animal with black mane and tail, looked up with a start, then loped over to see him. No doubt hoping for a carrot. He held up his hands as if in surrender.
“Sorry, mate. I don’t have anything for you.”
The horse stuck its muzzle through the railings. Harry shook his head in disbelief. Horses were amazing creatures. He’d mostly only seen them from afar before. Now, on the farm, he could watch them up close, even pat them occasionally. This time, he stroked the horse’s nose. It puffed out a hot breath that whispered over his face, making him laugh out loud. Then his hand worked its way up to the long hair between the horse’s ears, and he scratched the spot gently. The horse seemed to enjoy it, pushing a little further through the fence until its lips nibbled at Harry’s shirt.
He spent a few more minutes with the horses, petting them, whispering to them, and walking around the yard alongside them as they grazed. By the time he left, his thoughts had calmed and he’d forgotten his anger, at least for the moment. As he headed off to do his chores, he considered that there were some good things about living at the farm — the friendships he’d made, the horses, the sports carnival. Max’s perspective challenged him — how could he forgive and forget so easily? It wasn’t something Harry was ready to do. Something within him clamoured for justice. But he could keep his mouth shut about the things eating at him from the inside, for now. For Max and for Mary.
28
February 1954
Mary
After two months living at the farm, Mary had grown accustomed to the Fairbridge way of life. Weekends were her favourite part of the week. Although they were almost as structured as the rest of the week, there were often fun activities for the kids to participate in. She found herself pushing the memories of her own pain and trauma down deep into the darkest recesses of her mind and moving on as though nothing had ever happened. She’d managed to completely avoid seeing Crew in recent weeks and at the same time avoided thinking about him. Instead, she embraced the best parts of their new world: attending school, evenings in the cottage with Lottie and the other girls, the Weekend Notice which was pinned to one of the doors at the entrance to Nuffield Hall on Fridays and outlined the activities for the weekend ahead.
“I still don’t understand…ouch…why I can’t simply have long hair.” Mary’s face squeezed into a grimace as Faith yanked a brush through the knots in her hair. They sat on the verandah outside Evelyne Cottage. A pile of hair in various shades curled and knotted at her feet.
It was Mary’s birthday. She was ten years old. She hadn’t told anyone. Lottie hadn’t remembered—she was too young to keep track of things like dates and birthdays. Anyway, Mary didn’t want to celebrate. Celebrating birthdays seemed wrong — besides, there was no one to celebrate with her and she didn’t feel much like it anyway. And she had a feeling that the reminder of time passing would only make Lottie pine anew for home. Mary couldn’t bear listening to Lottie’s muffled sobbing or her stuttering grief.
It was wrong of her to feel that way. She was hard-hearted like Mam had told her a hundred times, she knew that, but she couldn’t help it. No more grief. No more tears. They’d both shed enough to last them a lifetime, and Mary could only stand so much of it. She wanted to laugh and have fun, to enjoy each day regardless of how many trials came because in all truth, it was still better than life had been when they’d lived with Mam. Although Lottie seemed unable to recall the worst of it. Some kind of rose-coloured lenses seemed to embellish her recollections of their lives in England.
The worst of it was getting her beautiful hair cut off on her birthday. But it couldn’t be helped, and she’d made a vow not to cry over anything that didn’t warrant it. So, she pushed her chin out and bore it.
“You’re getting a haircut because you let it get too tangled. I can barely get the brush through it. Besides, Ingrid told me you look as though a hive of bees set themselves up to make honey on your head.”
Mary crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at her own reflection in the hand mirror Lottie held before her. “I don’t much care what Ingrid thinks.” She had no love for their cottage mother, a woman who’d leave them to fend for themselves at suppertime if she had a date in town. Ingrid’s temper was legendary around the farm, and most of the children cowered in her presence. Not, Mary though. She didn’t let Ingrid bother her the way the others did — Ingrid couldn’t hold a candle to Mam when she was in a rage.
“You will care when she gives you a walloping for having messy hair.”
Mary didn’t think that she would care. Not one bit. She’d dodged Ingrid’s paddle many a time already. Besides, she hated to think of herself with the lopsided style the other girls wore. But she also knew the importance of fitting in and not making waves. She’d spent her young life slipping beneath the radar and staying out of trouble even while stealing a handful of toffee right from under a shopkeeper’s nose. And so, she sat still on the rickety chair and held her breath to ward off the pain.
Lottie’s hair was already cut, and it maddened Mary to see it. A thick, slanted fringe, along with a lopsided, blonde, boyish bob that tickled her shirt collar. Her beautiful full waves were gone, leaving only straight hair in their place. She wasn’t the baby-faced girl who’d cried herself to sleep in Mary’s arms at night after a row with Mam any longer. Her face had lost its soft curves, her legs were long and lanky, and her arms tanned brown.
A snip felled one side of Mary’s long blonde curls to the slatted floor below. She glanced down with a pang of regret. Faith lifted her head with a finger beneath her chin.
“Don’t move or you’ll lose an ear.”
Mary crossed her eyes and poked out her tongue. The mirror shook as Lottie laughed silently.
When the haircut was finished, Mary regarded her reflection again. She didn’t recognise herself anymore. A full-cheeked, tanned face with freckles over the bridge of the nose, hair darker than it had been and cut short above her collar and with a full, blunt fringe hovering over blue eyes. For some reason, it brought a lump to her throat.
“It’s not that bad, is it?” asked Faith. “I tried to get it just right.”
“No, it’s not bad. It’s fine,” replied Mary, swallowing down the lump. “I look different, that’s all.”
Faith shrugged. “I think you look nice.”
“Thanks.”
“The Weekend Notice is up!” shouted a small girl as she ran along the track from Nuffield Hall and bounded up the stairs in two strides.
All the girls moved at once. Faith threw down the scissors, Mary leapt from the chair, and Lottie placed the mirror, glass up, on the floor. They hurtled down the path to Nuffield Hall, where a small pink sheet of paper fluttered against one of the doors in the afternoon breeze.
Mary could read most of it, and Faith helped with the words she didn’t understand.
* * *
Weekend Notice
* * *
Friday
4pm: Muster for all children not needed for work on septic tank.
7pm: Bus to the pictures in Molong.
* * *
Saturday
8am: Breakfast.
8:30am: Cottage coke supplies from coke yard.
10am: Pony Club in Molong.
11am: Sunday School picnic, followed by handing out of the week’s pocket money.
1:15pm: Tuck Shop.
2pm: Swimming in the dam.
6:30pm: Dinner.
* * *
Sunday
8am: Breakfast.
9:30am: Report to the dining hall for church.
11am: Sunday School.
Noon: Lunch.
2pm: Cricket.
* * *
“Do you think Mrs Forrest would let us join the Pony Club?” asked Lottie after Faith read through the items in the notice.
Mary shrugged even as excitement buzzed through her veins. Ever since they’d come to the farm, the thing she’d longed most to do was ride the horses that grazed in the paddocks just beyond the village. Some of the boys used the horses to pull wagons around the farm, but the rest of the time they were ridden by the Pony Club kids. And Mary desperately wanted to be one of them.
“I don’t see why not,” said Faith. “You’ll have to ask this afternoon, though. If you want to go tomorrow.”
Mary and Lottie exchanged a look, then spun on their heels and sprinted in the direction of the principal’s house. There was a small office space on the ground floor, and Mary knocked on the door, still puffing.
“Come in,” called a feminine voice.
Inside, it took a moment for Mary’s eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Mrs Forrest sat behind a desk at one end of the room, a pen poised above a ledger book. She regarded the sisters over half-moon glasses.
“How can I help you, girls?”
Mary swallowed, hands clasped together in front. She shuffled forward with Lottie close to her side. “Good afternoon, Mrs Forrest. I’m sorry to bother you, but Lottie and I were hoping we might join the Pony Club tomorrow.”
Mrs Forrest stood to her feet, smoothed her frock, and stepped out from behind the desk.
“I suppose that would be fine. Although I have to warn you, there’s a lot of work involved in keeping horses, exercising them, currying and feeding them. Do you think you’ll be up for the challenge?”
Both girls nodded in unison. Mary could barely stand the anticipation. It didn’t seem possible they might have horses of their own to care for and ride.
“Then I’m happy to offer you both a place on the team. Two of our older girls have moved into trainee positions and their horses are available. They’re good horses, nice and quiet. They’ll be perfect for beginners. How does that sound?”
“Do you mean it?” exploded Lottie, her mouth pulled into a happy grin.
“Yes. If you want to join the club, you’re welcome to do so.” Mrs Forrest had a warm, open expression with kind, dark eyes.
“Yes, Mrs Forrest,” said Mary in the politest voice she could manage. “Thank you, Mrs Forrest.”
She offered an awkward curtsey, then took Lottie by the hand and dragged her back out through the door. They ran behind the nearest building, then threw their arms around each other as they squealed and danced in place.
“I can’t believe it,” said Lottie breathlessly.
“It doesn’t seem real—that’s the truth.” Mary caught her breath through a laugh, and kissed Lottie on the forehead. “Let’s go and meet the rest of the club. They’ll be at the stables getting the horses ready for tomorrow.”
Lottie’s horse was a grey with dappled coat whose name, Slim, bore no reflection on the horse’s rotund frame. Mary’s horse was named Glitter. She wasn’t sure why either, since the animal was a dull bay colour with black mane and tail. She didn’t glitter and seemed half asleep most of the time with hooded eyes and only the occasional swish of her tail against the flies to indicate consciousness. Which suited Mary perfectly well, since she was terrified to ride a horse that might bolt and throw her.
They’d prepared their saddles and bridles the night before, with Faith’s help. Faith was one of the older girls still riding with the club, although she’d have to finish up after her fifteenth birthday when she’d become a trainee.
“Won’t you be sad to leave the Pony Club?” asked Mary as she, Faith and Lottie rode side by side along the road to Molong.
Faith shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it. When we become trainees, we’re working for the farm. The fun is over.” Her voice had a forced cheerfulness to it that Mary didn’t believe.
The ride was hot, the landscape quiet other than the clip-clop of horse hooves on the bitumen verge. The scent of horses and dust drifted through the air. It’d rained the night before, but the only evidence was the greener grass that pushed its way in new shoots through the dry earth along the sides of the roads and through the fields that banked their way.
“I’m glad you’re riding with us today,” added Lottie.
Lottie had been giddy with delight all morning while they’d brushed and saddled their horses. They stopped at a stream outside town to let the horses drink. The animals thrust reaching muzzles into the cool, bubbling water and sucked greedily. Mary climbed down and used her hand to scoop some water into her own mouth. It was fresh and sweet, so she patted it over her face, neck and arms as well.
The Pony Club was held in a large show ground located just before they reached Molong. The town girls were already there on their posh ponies, trotting in circles, heads held high. The Fairbridge girls rode in on bedraggled horses, wearing their khaki uniforms and bare feet in the stirrups. The town girls looked them over but didn’t address them. Mary urged Glitter into line to listen to the club leader welcome them and explain how the day would progress.
They started out by riding in group circles around the various adults who’d shown up to run the club. Mary assumed they were parents. The woman in the centre of her circle wore pale jodhpurs and riding boots. The woman called out to them to straighten their backs, push their heels down, gather their reins. Mary tried to follow instructions the best that she could, but found herself bouncing from one side to the other until it seemed her teeth might chatter from her head to the earth below.
After that, they tried jumping their horses over crisscrossing white timber poles. Glitter wouldn’t jump, and Mary was glad. She wasn’t sure she’d manage to stay on the horse’s back if it sailed over those logs. Lottie was in a younger group, and they didn’t try the jumps. She seemed to be having fun with the young town girls, riding up and back in a line.
By the time they finished and headed for home, Mary was exhausted but happy. She’d never had so much fun in all her life. Horse riding was an immediate passion for her, one she hoped she’d be able to do again and again. She stroked Glitter’s neck as the animal plodded along the side of the road.
Lottie lolled a little to one side on Slim’s wide back, her head dipping every now and then as though she was falling to sleep. Mary called her sister’s name to make sure she didn’t drift off and fall.
As they rode through the village, some of the smaller children jogged alongside the horses, excited to see them. By the principal’s house, Mary saw Harry and a dozen other boys climbing into Mr Wood’s station wagon. The boys were dressed in matching striped shirts and black shorts and wore cleats on their feet with long socks pulled up to their knees. He’d mentioned rugby tryouts — he was hoping the team would get into the A-league for the winter season in Orange, although he didn’t like their chances. She waved at him, and he gave a quick wave back, along with a smile as he ducked into the vehicle. The entire team squeezed into every inch of the rust-bucket before it lurched bumping down the driveway.
Back at the stables, they unsaddled the horses and brushed them down. Then led them to the water trough and spread some hay near the trough for them to eat. Everyone was tired, but spirits were high all the same. They’d had a great time, the horses had behaved, no one had hurt themselves even though two of the girls had fallen when jumping, and Lottie had tumbled from Slim’s back when attempting a trot, but she’d climbed right back on with a smile on her vibrant face.
“You go back to the cottage. I’ll pack everything away,” said Mary.
Lottie yawned. “No, I can’t leave you with it all.”
