The Strength In Us All, page 28
The children, on the other hand, were more excited about the whole esky of ice, high on the list of treats, just behind ice cream, milkshakes and chocolates. They had a wonderful time making large glasses of Milo and milk, crammed to the top with ice cubes, followed by orange juice and more ice cubes. The next day was spent seeing how many iced liquid drinks they could make before all the precious ice was gone. They had the day off school while teacher recovered from a hangover.
Charlie was sure he wouldn’t have to ‘treat’ me for another month or so. He’d done his bit, even though I later found out that he’d simply put it on credit. It took me six months to pay the bill.
The glasses have hardly seen the light of day in all these years, except on very special occasions.
I brought them out to welcome in 1993.
Marlee, Franz and I, and the dogs and Boots, sat outside and looked at the stars. We talked about Charlie, mostly the outrageous things he did, but also the kind and brave things. Over the years I’ve mellowed towards him—I don’t get as mad with him now.
I don’t think Marlee has forgiven him completely, but she does reminisce with me.
Soon the night had gone and it was near to midnight. I had found a cassette tape with songs to see out the old year, and with that playing in the background we watched the countdown on the television. Franz had timed the cork-popping perfectly, so that on the stroke of midnight the champagne cork hit the roof and heralded in the new year. I raised my glass to Charlie over on the mountain where we had scattered his ashes.
‘This will be our year, Charlie,’ I vowed silently. ‘So get off your backside and do something! Cheers.’
We sipped champagne, ate ham and mustard sandwiches and my homemade fruit cake, and talked in 1993, sitting under the stars.
I stayed out under the stars a long time after Marlee and Franz had gone to bed, holding my ‘star’ glass and remembering so many, oh so many things.
I finally went off to bed, sad and happy. Mostly happy, and definitely optimistic. As I drifted off to sleep I could see the glass on the bedside table twinkling at me in the moonlight. I smiled; I had a very good feeling that 1993 was going to be The Year!
CHAPTER 12
January 1993
There were clouds everywhere on the first day of January 1993. I was interviewed on talkback radio in Sydney. The topic was ‘thinking positively’, and I was asked to give advice to the people struggling on the land.
What a task! How can you advise someone who already works twice the normal working hours every day, and who still doesn’t have enough money for a reasonable life? I could only say, ‘Hang in there.’ And keep repeating my plea.
The next day was Danielle’s birthday, and for most of the day on Bullo we had lovely soft rain, with the sunshine peeping through the clouds. We called her very early in the morning to wish her Happy Birthday, and told her her present was late, as usual. She could see it in early February, when she visited, and she would need the utility to take it home. By now she was well and truly intrigued. I almost couldn’t wait to see her reaction when she found out it was a stepping exercise machine!
We were still going through mechanics like they were going out of fashion. I was beginning to believe they were a breed of their own. I thought Uncle Dick was unique, but after so many replacements I was strongly suspecting he possibly was not out of the ordinary, but what was classed as a ‘normal’ mechanic. Heaven forbid!
One chap wanted half a case of beer a day. Warning bells went off in my head—no, never again. I told him it was not possible during the wet, with the road closed, to keep up such a supply. The cheeky bugger then issued his ultimatum—the beer, or he would go. I told him we were sorry to lose him. Like hell we were! One of my many New Year’s resolutions was no more alcoholics on Bullo … unless I became one, and that was highly unlikely. If I hadn’t turned to drink by now, there wasn’t much danger of it happening.
So Marlee and Franz kept the generators running, quite efficiently, while we searched for our next prima donna.
We still hadn’t heard from Dick since his disappearance back in November. We kept track of him through friends and knew he had stayed with an old Bullo employee in Kununurra and then moved on to Katherine and out onto a station to catch up with Stumpy. He apparently also visited Jo-anne at the Katherine library. She called to let me know he was coming to her house for dinner. I heard from her after that and she said he looked reasonably well and wasn’t drinking too much. She said she’d keep me posted.
The weather was now very hot and most unpleasant, making thinking and writing very trying. All doors and windows were opened to create and catch all or any breeze possible. When the storms eventually came I spent the time rushing around the house closing doors, and watching the roof, waiting for it to blow away again and cringing every time I heard a squeak. If any intelligent beings from outer space happened to be watching the Bullo homestead occupants for behavioural patterns, I am sure their regular logbook entries and analysis summaries would read: ‘Rain always causes a peculiar ritual of rushing around abode with face uplifted, pausing frequently. When rain stops, ritual ceases. Further study required to ascertain whether this habit is widespread or localised to this area.’
I could feel my stress levels rising. My diary made it clear that apart from half of January and May and June, the rest of my year would be spent away from home travelling to conferences and on the paperback tour of From Strength to Strength. So I had to spend every spare moment writing or I wouldn’t finish the second book in time. What with Marlee and Franz acting as mechanics, and doing the ploughing and seeding, I had to handle the cooking and the house and the office and the phone, which didn’t leave much peace and quiet for writing.
But then our luck changed.
I am pleased to announce that after thirty years of hiring and firing, tearing out my hair, resisting the temptation to murder, I have finally found the housekeeper of my dreams.
We have had a few good ones over the years, but mostly the record has been absolute shockers. The more qualified they stated they were, the more hopeless I found them. If they could cook, then they were extravagant with food and wasteful when preparing—throwing away half a lettuce, looking for the right shaped leaves! I caught one idiot grating the lemon rind into a cup for the recipe, and throwing away the lemon. Even the reasonable cooks, I found, were impossible to work with. In fact I was so disillusioned I wasn’t even going to bother to try again, and had resigned myself to doing the cooking. But one look at the coming year’s appointments book made me realise I wasn’t going to be home much for the first nine months of the year. Something had to be done.
It was Marlee who insisted we start looking for someone; the impossible someone as far as I was concerned. Where to start? Luckily fate stepped in, in the form of a phone call from an employment agency in Perth. They were enquiring about one of our previous employees who had gone to them for employment. They wanted my rundown on the stockman. About two weeks later they called again—another of our employees had turned up there. By now I had become quite friendly with Julie, the consultant, and just in passing I asked if she would like the challenge of the century. She politely said yes. I described my wonder woman and she said to leave it with her.
Julie came back to me with about four applicants, including Jackie. And I couldn’t be happier! I have not set foot in the kitchen since she arrived. Some people may not realise the significance of this statement, but for me it is about as amazing as flying to the moon under your own power. If I had written down all the attributes of the ideal candidate, I would have come up with Jackie. The whole house has never been neater or cleaner, and she is a pleasure to have around. Jackie and Mugsie, her Jack Russell terrier, settled in from the first minute. Although I would have to admit Jackie had an expression on her face of, ‘where have I landed’, when she first stepped down from the truck. They had just finished a four hour drive from Kununurra with Franz, in the cattle truck. Jackie stood there a little dazed, but Mugsie cased the joint immediately, including our two massive Rottweilers, who towered over him with all hair raised. He completely ignored them except for a quiet growl, to prove he wasn’t intimidated. He completed his tour of sniffing, walked right under the noses of the big dogs with all two inches of his tail stiff and quivering, sat at Jackie’s feet and looked up at her as if to say, ‘Well come on, what are you waiting for, unpack! We are home.’ And it has been that way from the first minute.
Okay, it took thirty years, but at last we’d struck gold. Jackie could not have come at a better time. She was our first good-luck charm of 1993.
*
A phone call from Danielle however brought devastating news. Bonnie’s 10-month-old baby Georgina was critically ill with meningitis and had been rushed to hospital. The fight to save her life was on.
Bonnie had to stay in the hospital 24 hours a day, her husband Arthur was travelling and Danielle couldn’t fly to Darwin to help for a week. So Danielle asked if I could look after Bonnie’s eldest daughter Amelia, and I said I would do anything to help. Marlee was in Darwin getting supplies and I suggested to Danielle if Bonnie wanted me to take Amelia, Marlee could bring her back to the station that night. Bonnie and I had not spoken since the court case. So Danielle called with my reply but was told a neighbour was caring for Amelia and Arthur was on his way home, but to thank Marlee and me for our offer of help.
What that little baby went through in the following weeks was unbelievable but against all odds Georgina pulled through. I called the hospital and spoke to Bonnie in the early days when Georgina was desperately ill, and things looked grim. She seemed to appreciate the calls but was probably too sick with worry for the conversations to have registered. There was no indication that it had been years since we had last said anything to each other. It is amazing how the sickness of a small child can sweep away anything in its path.
My heart is still broken, it has not healed … I can’t say if it ever will. So to answer the question asked of me a thousand times since my first book, yes I have spoken to Bonnie and yes I have talked to and played with my grandchildren.
*
Before I knew it, it was time to leave on the conference trail. I flew to Darwin on Friday 15th January for R&M (repair and maintenance). Facial, massage and hair. I hadn’t yet written my speech but had the Sunday free for speech-writing while flying to Sydney and then the evening to finish it. I was speaking for the AMP first, and it was while writing the speech that I remembered I had my very first job with them, during the Christmas holidays. My exciting job was to fold premium notices by hand! That didn’t capture the imagination, I can tell you.
The world of business was then very new to me. I was basically wild … well, for those days. I was athletic, always running instead of walking, and this was not considered ladylike.
I sat next to the two ‘icons’ of the AMP, and these two ladies continually told me everything I did wrong. One day, after running all the way back to the office after shopping, I was told I was breathing too heavily! My chest was heaving up and down in a manner that was ‘not in keeping with company policy’. I was told to go stand behind the filing cabinet until my chest was under control.
I told a few more of my extraordinary experiences and the audience seemed to enjoy the speech. However, I had been battling an ear infection most of 1992, which I’m sure was stress related—every time I had to make a court payment my ear problem came back, and flared up again as soon as I had another problem. As a result my ears in 1992 were constantly flaring up and calming down!
But now they really hit me in Sydney and I was feeling very dizzy, dangerously so. The dizziness mixed with nerves left me unbalanced, as if I were suffering something very close to vertigo. I finished the speech and was walking across the foyer when I felt myself falling. Luckily I was walking past seats and I flopped ungracefully into one. Eventually the dizziness cleared and I appeared back to normal. I had planned dinner with friends, but I thought it best to go straight back to the hotel to rest. Heavens knows what a few glasses of wine would have done to my steering gear!
I had to fly to Brisbane the next day for the second conference, but made an appointment with a doctor for early the next morning. I didn’t relish falling off the stage during a dizzy spell. The doctor said the eardrum was slightly red, but thought I had an inner ear infection, and that this was causing the dizziness. He prescribed antibiotics. I also mentioned a slight sick feeling at the base of my throat and he said the tablets should clear up both.
The sickness went almost with the first tablets, but the strange feeling in my ears remained, minus the dizziness. The doctor had said he didn’t think I would be able to fly. When I told him I had to fly almost around Australia in the next three days, he told me I could be in for a very unpleasant time.
How wrong he was. The unpleasant time was at ground level. At 35,000 feet my ears felt great!
In Brisbane I got my first curtain call. When I finished speaking the audience just kept clapping after I had left the stage and one of the organisers told me to go back on.
‘What will I do?’ I asked, dumbfounded.
She was at a loss to give me any suggestions, so I just edged around the curtain again and smiled and gave a little bob in a thank-you motion, and scurried off the stage.
But felt pretty pleased inside. A curtain call!
The third AMP conference was in Perth; it was another enjoyable day. The ears were still a problem, but as long as I took the tablets the dizziness was kept at bay.
The pills lasted until the day after I arrived back at the station. Then the dizziness immediately returned, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as when I was standing backstage waiting to speak. However, the heat now seemed to be giving me trouble, and my neck and jaw were starting to feel as bad as the ears. I was taking aspirin to get some relief.
The temperature was now in the forties and concentrating on my writing was difficult. I was not being very creative. Marlee decided I needed cooling down. She and Franz decided on an air-conditioner.
Marlee wanted to make it a surprise. Franz said there was no way they could install an air-conditioner in my room without me knowing. Marlee said she thought they could.
The first step was the doors. All the doors were louvred and much the worse for wear. Over the years they had been damaged in storms. I had ordered new ones and they had been sitting in the storeroom for many months.
Franz had them out, dusted off and installed in a few hours. Marlee told me she wanted to paint them but the smell of paint would be too strong for me, so I should move out of my room. She helped me take my writing into the office. Then they backed up the truck to the outside wall and removed an old air-conditioner that hadn’t worked for years. The new machine was bigger, so Franz cut the hole bigger with a power saw. Marlee explained to me that the noise was Franz removing the old steel brackets.
Franz and Marlee disappeared back into my room after lunch and I sat in the living room, writing. There was a lot of to-ing and fro-ing but I was too hot and sick to take any notice. The weather was building up to another storm and the day was particularly oppressive. Waiting for the storm to break was unpleasant.
Around three in the afternoon Marlee came and led me to my room, all smiles. She opened the door and wonderful cool air met me. I looked about in amazement. There in the wall was a beautiful new air-conditioner. What a difference! We put a thermometer in the room and it dropped to twenty-one degrees in one hour; outside it was forty-five.
From then on I worked in blissful comfort. Of course, I was never alone. All day there was a continual stream of traffic. The dogs were the worst—Hunter spent the entire Wet Season with me in air-conditioning. Jedda wasn’t far behind him. They would knock when they wanted to come in, and when they wanted to go out they’d just stand and look at the door. If I wasn’t looking they gave a quiet bark to get my attention. As for Marlee, she would find excuses to spend time in the room … and Franz would be close behind. Lunchtime everyone joined me.
The day after my air-conditioner was installed the storm broke. We had one and a half inches of rain, Homestead Creek flooded again, and Marlee and Franz were back to swimming to the generator shed and the workshop.
CHAPTER 13
February 1993–March 1993
The next mechanic was employed by phone again. It seemed we might be lucky with this one. Marlee and Franz would soon be leaving for Austria and I had to have someone in the workshop looking after the generators.
Marlee was going home to meet Franz’s family. Franz hadn’t been home for eighteen months, so they both were very excited. Naturally everyone in his family, indeed the whole village, was waiting to meet Marlee. In a tiny Austrian village, where land is used and measured by the metre, for a son to tell you he has to help run and care for half a million acres and thousands of head of cattle must be a little mind-boggling. Not to mention the fact that he’s suddenly got married!
Although I was excited for them to have this wonderful holiday, I dreaded them leaving. Apart from missing them, I knew all the outside station care would fall on me, and with no mechanic there was no way I would get any writing done at all.
Over the years, many times, I have found myself a lone caretaker, looking after the animals and starting and stopping the generator. I thought I had given this up long ago. But it now looked as if I would be starting generators again, if we didn’t find someone soon.
The latest mechanic was travelling up from Perth by car and it looked as if we might have him a whole week before Marlee and Franz had to leave. He called each day as he drove up the coast, then nothing. He either found another job and didn’t have the manners to call to tell us he wasn’t coming, or he just disappeared and his family and friends still think he is working in the Outback. But I doubt it. Someone would have called to contact him by now.
