Matilda's Last Waltz Part 33

A stealthy rustle at her feet tore her from her thoughts. The snake paused, inches from the toe of her boot, and Jenny froze. It was the deadliest of them all one bite, and it would all be over. Her pulse raced as her heart hammered against her ribs. The moment stretched into endless seconds before the snake finally moved away and she could breathe again.

Ripper came bouncing out of the undergrowth, caught sight of the snake and pounced. Jenny didn't have time to think as she grabbed him by the scruff and hauled him off.

'You stupid b.u.g.g.e.r,' she rasped as he struggled to get back to his quarry. 'You'll get yourself killed, carrying on like that.' Jenny held him close as the snake went on its sinuous way. Then, with a sigh of relief, she headed back to the house.

'What was all the barking about?' Diane was standing on the porch, resplendent in a peac.o.c.k blue caftan.

'Tiger snake. Ripper thought it was a toy,' she said grimly. 'I'd better shut him indoors for the afternoon.'

Helen arrived minutes later, the gleaming Holden lifting the dust in the yard as she drove up to the house and killed the engine. She looked cool and elegant in a cotton dress, her platinum hair softly gleaming in the dull sunlight.

'Thanks for agreeing to see me,' she said as they shook hands and settled on the verandah. 'I wasn't at all sure if you would.'

'Why ever not? After all, I've sampled your hospitality, and there are so few women out here it seems silly to ignore each other because of something that happened years ago,' replied Jenny lightly as she poured lemonade for each of them.

Helen lifted her gla.s.s. 'Cheers. Here's to common sense.'

Jenny glanced across at Diane then back to Helen. She was puzzled by the older woman's vehemence.

'Don't mind me, girls,' she laughed. 'I've lived too long in this place not to realise men really are the most incredibly stupid creatures. They strut about like c.o.c.ks of the walks, trying to prove their machis...o...b.. out-shooting, out-riding and out-drinking each other, when all the time the women are the ones who put things to rights.'

She grinned as she eyed each of their puzzled faces. 'Don't worry, I'm not the Kurrajong version of the Trojan horse. I'm here as a mate, because I think it's about time all this nonsense between Kurrajong and Churinga came to an end.'

Taking a long drink of the home-made lemonade, she set her gla.s.s down. 'But let's forget all that for the moment and have lunch. It's been ages since I've been able to relax with a couple of friends.'

They ate on the verandah where it was cool and as the meal progressed, Jenny found herself strangely drawn to this woman who had to be old enough to be her mother, but young enough in spirit to be able knowledgeably to discuss the latest pop music, the Bay of Pigs incident, and the current fashions in London's Carnaby Street.

'We do get newspapers out here, you know,' laughed Helen. 'And I make sure I get down to Sydney as often as possible. Without my little forays into civilisation, I would shrivel up like most of the other women out here.'

'You aren't from the outback originally, then?' Jenny had cleared away the dishes and they were sipping the wine Helen had brought with her.

She shook her head. 'Good heavens, no. James and I met at one of my father's business parties in Sydney. He runs a meat exporting company and we were always entertaining squatters and graziers.'

She smiled softly. 'James was so handsome and charming and when he proposed I accepted right away. I thought living out here would be an adventure, and in a way I was right. But I still need to go back now and again to recharge my batteries.'

'I know what you mean,' said Diane, grimacing at the horizon. 'It's okay to visit but I certainly wouldn't want to live out here.'

Helen smiled. 'Don't get me wrong, girls, I'm very happy. James and I have a good, rich life, but I think you have to be born to this to be able to stay permanently. Andrew's the only one who seems to prefer the city, the rest of the family never leave Kurrajong unless they absolutely have to. He's a lawyer, you know, and a very good one too.'

Jenny nodded. 'I'm sure he's very powerful in court. He certainly seems out of place here, too clean and gentrified.' She came to an abrupt halt, realising too late how rude she must have sounded.

Helen laughed and finished her gla.s.s of wine. 'I know just what you mean. I sometimes have the strongest urge to roll him in the dirt or ruffle his hair. But James says he's been like that all his life, and he's far too old to change now.'

Silence fell over them as they looked out towards Kurrajong.

'You've been very patient, Jennifer,' Helen said eventually. 'And I have rambled on, but there is a reason for my visit, as I explained on the phone.'

'Is it to do with the persistent haggling over Churinga?' Jenny asked.

Helen eyed her for a long moment then nodded. 'In a way, I suppose it is although that's only the result of one old man's refusal to see that the past is long gone and there's no profit in keeping it alive.'

Jenny tried to hide her mounting excitement by resting her chin in her hands and her elbows on the table. At last she was to learn the secrets that had been kept from the diaries secrets perhaps even Matilda didn't know.

'It all started way back in the middle of the last century when the two families came to this part of New South Wales. They were pioneers, the Squires family arriving from England, the O'Connors from Ireland. But it was the O'Connors who got here first and took over the land we now know as Churinga. It was good land, the best in these parts, with plenty of artesian water and mountain rivers.'

Helen fell silent for a moment, eyes misty as she looked out over the landscape.

'Despite the enmity between the English and Irish at that time, this place has a way of levelling people and the families got on well. The O'Connors had a daughter, Mary. She was to be their only surviving child. Life was even tougher back then and the infant mortality rate was high. Jeremiah Squires had three sons, Ethan, Jacob and Elijah.'

Helen smiled. 'In those days the Squires family was very religious, and although the names seem strange now, they were quite common then.'

Diane took a cigarette and offered one to Helen who fitted it into an ivory holder before she lit it. Jenny's mind was back in the past, trying to picture the people who'd lived and worked here all those years ago.

'Ethan was seventeen when he began to court the fifteen-year-old Mary. She had grown into a fiery beauty, by all accounts, and was considered to be far ahead of her time.'

Helen smiled. 'She was quite a handful, evidently, but then she'd have needed to be if she was to marry Ethan.'

'But she didn't,' said Jenny quietly. 'What happened?'

'Something no one expected, and it's this part of the story that's been kept a secret within the family ever since.' Helen watched the smoke curl up from her cigarette and dissipate in the hot air. 'So secret that I'm probably the only one who knows it.'

The silence was tangible and weighed heavily between them.

'How did...' Jenny began.

'I'm coming to that. But you have to understand this is a confidence that cannot be shared outside this place.'

She eyed each of them solemnly, then carried on. 'A few years back Ethan had a stroke and we all thought he was going to die. It was during one of his depressive stages that he confided in me.' She sighed and looked out over the land. 'He swore me to secrecy, not thinking he would survive for long, but of course he recovered and now he hates me because I know too much and he can't do without me.'

She gave a sad smile. 'At least it means I have some kind of authority over him for a change. He's an almost perfect patient and as he loathes everyone, I don't feel insulted by his rudeness.'

'I don't know how you put up with him,' muttered Diane. 'If I was in charge, I'd have probably put something in his tea by now.'

Helen grinned. 'Don't think I haven't considered it. But he's James' father, and I don't feel so strongly I'd b.u.mp him off.'

The gla.s.ses were refilled and the three women settled back in their cane chairs. The heat was pervasive, the sky leaden. It was as if, like Jenny, the outback was holding its breath.

'Ethan and Mary were engaged for almost two years when he decided he couldn't wait for the wedding night. He was persuasive and because Mary loved him she turned her back on convention and gave in. Two months later she rode over to Kurrajong to find her father. He'd gone there to help with the shearing and as there was a minor crisis at home, her mother needed him. It was as Mary was walking past the drawing-room window that she heard something she shouldn't have, and that's when the trouble began.'

Helen sighed and turned the glittering rings on her fingers. 'Jeremiah Squire and Patrick O'Connor were having a furious row. Jeremiah was threatening to call the wedding off if Patrick didn't sign over several thousand prime acres of Churinga as a dowry. Patrick accused him of blackmail amongst other things. His daughter had been made promises, the wedding was due to take place in a week's time, and there had been no mention of a dowry two years before when the engagement was announced. He was a man caught in a terrible dilemma. His daughter would be disgraced if she was jilted, but the loss of so much prime land would drain Churinga. He refused Jeremiah's demands.'

Helen's eyes glittered as she stared across at Jenny and Diane. 'It was then that Jeremiah sneered at Patrick and told him his son had never wanted to marry Mary, had never even loved her. He was just doing as Jeremiah ordered, and if the land was not a part of her marriage settlement, then Jeremiah would marry him off to a widow, Abigail Harmer, whose father owned the big station to the north of Kurrajong, and was willing to hand over a large parcel of land as a dowry to get his daughter off his hands a second time.'

'Patrick pleaded with Jeremiah to see reason, but the old man would not be swayed. Mary was distraught and went to find Ethan. She confronted him with what she'd overheard, and after a long, heated argument, threw back his ring and returned to Churinga with her father. Within a matter of weeks she was married to Mervyn Thomas who'd been working on Churinga station as a stockman, and they moved out of the district.'

Jenny shivered despite the heat. 'She didn't have such a lucky escape,' she murmured.

Helen tilted her head in enquiry. 'I'll explain later,' Jenny said. 'Please go on with the story.'

'Ethan was distraught. He'd found that although it had begun as a ploy to get Churinga land, his courtship of Mary had turned into something more akin to love, and the thought of her married to someone else was impossible to come to terms with.'

'That's typical of a man,' snorted Diane. 'Never know what they want until someone else takes it away.'

Helen nodded. 'Exactly, but that wasn't the only reason. Months later Mary and Mervyn returned to Churinga. Patrick had died of a fever and they were needed to help her mother run the place. But they didn't come alone. Mary had given birth to a little girl whom she called Matilda. Although the child could just possibly have been Mervyn's, Ethan was convinced she was his. He decided to get both of them back, along with the land Mary had inherited from her mother.'

'So Matilda Thomas was Ethan's daughter?' gasped Jenny.

Helen nodded. 'Mary denied it vehemently and refused to discuss it until many years later when she knew she was dying. Ethan was furious. He wasn't the sort of man who took defeat lightly. Still isn't, miserable old b.a.s.t.a.r.d,' she added with a grim smile.

Jenny opened another bottle of wine. 'So what did Ethan do? Was this the start of his campaign to get his hands on Churinga?'

'In a way. You see, he felt he'd been cheated not only out of the land but also of the woman he loved and the child he'd sired. He married Abigail eventually, gave her a son, Andrew, his name, and Kurrajong gained thirty thousand acres, making it the biggest station in this part of New South Wales.'

Helen took a sip of wine and stared out over the home paddock. 'His two brothers were only too willing to hand over their share of the station once old man Jeremiah died, and with the money Ethan paid them, set up a wool shipping business in Melbourne. Now he was rich and powerful, a man with a great deal of influence. But he never forgot the one thing he'd been denied.'

Her tone was bitter as her eyes returned to Jenny. 'When the first world war began he used his influence as an officer to put Mervyn into the thick of the fighting. His plan was to get his rival killed. Then, with no man to look after her and the land, Mary would sell him Churinga.'

'But his plan backfired. Mervyn came back.'

Helen nodded. 'Not only that, Mary kept the place running and made a better job of it than Mervyn had ever done. Their paths crossed frequently over the years immediately after the war, and there was an uneasy truce between them, possibly even friendship. The real killer stroke came when Ethan got a private detective to look into the deeds and discovered Mary had full ownership rights to the land that were held in trust for Matilda. No one else could touch the land. Not him. Not Mervyn. Shortly after Mary died, Mervyn turned up at Kurrajong and asked Ethan to buy him out. It was a small victory to refuse the man who'd taken everything he'd once cherished, but the irony of the situation he found himself in wasn't lost on Ethan.'

'Knowing Mervyn, he'd have been furious,' muttered Jenny.

Helen shot her a curious look. 'How do you know so much about Mervyn Thomas?'

'I only know he was a bully and a drunk,' Jenny replied. There was no point in saying more. Some skeletons were best left in cupboards.

Helen nodded. 'That's what I heard. So did Ethan. But Mary couldn't be persuaded to leave him, even when he began to beat her and the child. Divorce was rare, and after the scandal of her broken engagement, she just wanted to remain anonymous.'

Helen gave a sigh. 'Ethan knew what was happening, but could do nothing. When Mary died he was heartbroken. I honestly believe he truly loved her. But after her death the need to reclaim what he considered his became an obsession with him. He began to hate Churinga and all it stood for. After Mervyn was killed in a flash flood he tried to make his peace with Matilda. But she was too like her mother and would have nothing to do with him.'

'So he never told her she was his daughter?'

Helen shook her head. 'He was either too proud or too stubborn to tell her the truth. Perhaps if he had things would have been different.'

The silence was heavy as they each considered their own thoughts.

'Sad, isn't it, when men are too proud to show their feelings and have to bury them in hatred and revenge?' Diane's voice was thoughtful.

'Even sadder when you think it was Jeremiah who triggered the whole thing off with his greed. How different all their lives would have been if only one of them could have faced the truth and spoken out.'

Jenny thought of the terrible life Matilda had had, and could have cried. Life was unfair especially when it was blighted by an evil, greedy man like Jeremiah Squires.

'That was when things got out of hand. Ethan began to steal her sheep and block the creeks. He used Andrew as bait, trying to marry him off in return for ownership of Churinga, and got Billy, the youngest of the brothers, to do his dirty work out in Churinga pastures.'

She gave the two younger women a soft, sad smile. 'Things started to go wrong for him when Charlie made it obvious he was interested in Matilda. The old man blew a fuse, and without telling the boy why, threatened to cut him out of his will if he so much as looked at her again.'

'That would explain it,' muttered Jenny. 'I wondered why, when Ethan was so keen on getting his hands on Churinga.'

Helen frowned. 'You seem to know an awful lot for someone who's only just moved here?'

Jenny looked away. 'People talk. You know that, Helen.'

The older woman was silent for a long moment then she resumed her story.

'Matilda beat him at every turn, and I think in the end Ethan had a grudging respect for her. It became a battle which I think they both almost came to enjoy. But when Abigail died and his son Billy was killed in the second world war, the bitterness grew deeper. He found it easier to blame everything on Mary, Matilda and Churinga.'

Helen lit another cigarette and stared through the smoke. 'I don't pretend to understand the way his mind was working. Maybe he thought that if he and Mary had married he wouldn't have had a loveless marriage, or lost a son. He would have had the land his father had promised him and a daughter he'd never held. The bitterness was corrosive, that's all I know, and he began to look to Churinga again to exact his revenge.'

'And that's where I came in,' said Jenny bitterly. 'But I have nothing to do with this age-old feud. The people who once lived here are dead and gone.'

Helen looked at her for a long minute, eyes steady, fingers not quite still on her cigarette. Then she picked up the gla.s.s and took a drink. 'As you say,' she murmured, 'there's no one left.'

Jenny wondered what it was Helen was holding back but decided not to probe. She had come here willingly, and told her so much more than she could have hoped for, it would have to be enough.

'I almost feel sorry for Ethan. Poor old man. He must have loved Mary very much. What a waste of life and all because of Jeremiah's greed.'

Helen's delicate fingers covered Jenny's hand on top of the table. 'I shouldn't waste your time feeling sorry for the old coot if I were you, Jennifer. If he'd loved Mary enough, he'd have defied his father and married her. He's a mean-minded, hateful man. If he ever did get his hands on Churinga, he'd probably raze it to the ground.'

'Thanks for coming over and telling me all this. It's put things into perspective, and I know now that if I do sell, it will never go to Ethan.'

'Old men have to be humoured, but the rest of the family want nothing to do with the vendetta. Andrew is sick of doing his father's bidding and only the bribe of three hundred thousand dollars sent him here to make an offer for Churinga. As for Charlie...'

She shrugged, a soft smile playing on her lips. 'He'll never change. He loves Kurrajong and women, not necessarily in that order, and despite two marriages, will never settle down. Enjoy his flirting but don't take it seriously.'

Jenny laughed. 'I never intended to! Charlie is about as transparent as gla.s.s.'

Helen pleated the linen napkin on her lap. 'Kurrajong will be run by my daughter and her husband when it's time for us to hand over the reins and if you decide to stay I can guarantee nothing more will be said. My husband is quite taken with you, you know. He's pleased to see someone young on Churinga again. What happened all those years ago was unfortunate but the past is dead and so are most of the people involved. It's up to us to make the best of what we have.'

Jenny smiled. 'Someone else said that to me only a few weeks ago.' At the memory of that conversation with Brett, her smile slipped and she stood up. 'What about a real drink before you go? I've got a bottle of gin somewhere.'

Helen followed her into the kitchen. 'This person wouldn't happen to be the delicious Brett Wilson, would it?'

Jenny's hands faltered as she poured the drinks. 'What makes you say that?'

Helen smiled. 'Just the way you looked at each other when you were dancing. You're obviously both smitten.'

The retort was never uttered. Jenny stayed busy with the drinks.

'I'm sorry, Jennifer. I hope I didn't say anything out of place. It's just that here in the outback we have so little to occupy our minds that it makes us observant. The gossip over the telephone and the two-way is fair enough, but the only real chance of sniffing out the juicy bits are when everyone's gathered for a social event. You'd be surprised how much you can find out about people just by standing back and observing.'

'Well, you got it wrong this time, Helen.' Jenny laughed, but it sounded high and false.

'Plenty of fish in the sea,' she murmured with a frown. Then she brightened. 'Let's drink to the future whatever it may be.'

The three women chatted over their drinks as the sky darkened and the bustle of Churinga went on around them. Eventually Helen stood up. 'Time I was out of here.'

Jenny and Diane leaned into the car window and watched her kick off her delicate sandals.