The Plantation - Di Morrissey [11]
Was it a white cat? No, too big.
Her imagination was playing tricks with her. Too much thinking about the past, she decided. For if she didn’t know better, the shadows beneath the poinciana seemed to hold the shape of a woman. Some instinct told Julie to just be still and absorb the scene. The sepia photo graphs in the albums that her mother had shown her sprang to her mind. The shadow looked like a woman from an era of drifting soft muslin, upswept hair, parasols and white buckled shoes. It was almost as though her great grandmother had reappeared in the garden she’d created and loved.
Suddenly a breeze sprang up, the leaves of the tree shook and the shadow was gone. The lawn beneath the tree was dark and empty.
Julie drew the curtain across the small window and lay on her bed, making a promise to herself that she would help fight to save this home, not just for herself, but for the others who came from an era when life was very different.
In the morning, as her mother buttered toast, Julie said, ‘I had a sort of dream last night that Great Grandmother was on the lawn, under the tree. I’m sure that if we try really hard, we’ll be able to save the house.’
‘Well, I’m sure you’re right, darling. David seemed to have some good advice.’ Caroline put the toast beside Julie’s boiled egg.
‘Yes, we’ll have to pick his brains.’ Julie dipped a bit of toast into the soft yolk. ‘I was thinking about all the memories this house holds for us … my great grandmother, Gran, you, me … What are your special memories?’
Caroline shrugged. ‘Oh, goodness. I remember how happy my grandparents were to have Mother and me living here. That’s after my parents separated. I’m not sure that Mother was all that happy then.’
‘But why? Gran loved this place so much,’ said Julie.
‘Yes, she did. She was very proud of the garden, too. But – it’s funny – occasionally Mother would say that her time in Malaya as a bride before the war was the happiest time of her life.’
‘So why did she live in Brisbane?’ asked Julie.
‘I’m not really sure. Sometimes I got the impression that the reason she left Malaya was as much to do with Bette as it was with Father.’
Julie had a sudden thought and her eyes widened. ‘Mum! Your father didn’t have an affair with Bette did he?’
Caroline vehemently shook her head. ‘No, of course not.’
‘So why did she come back to Australia?’ asked Julie.
‘I really can’t tell you. That was a closed topic. But I did get snippets of Mother’s story and one day, when I was about fifteen, she actually decided to tell me the story of how she met my father and her early years with him,’ said Caroline. ‘It was a long time ago, but I’ll try to remember what she said if you’d like to hear it?’
‘I would,’ said Julie, helping herself to more toast and waiting expectantly.
2
The Mediterranean Sea, 1937
THE YOUNG WOMAN CLUTCHED her large circular straw hat, the salty breeze causing the soft voile of her dress to cling to her legs and outline her trim figure. The older woman beside her, dressed in a sensible cotton skirt and cork-soled shoes with a large hat tied under her chin, pointed to several sheltered deck chairs.
‘Why don’t we sit down, out of the wind? We’ve walked around the deck at least three times.’
The young woman glanced behind her. ‘I was hoping we might see that nice Mr Elliott again. I’ve heard that his father owns a plantation in Malaya. It sounds very interesting and romantic.’
‘Margaret Oldham, you’re impossible. I’m sure you’ll see him this evening since we’ve been invited to join the captain’s table and I believe he has, too. And we have weeks more at sea before we reach Brisbane. So I’m sure you’ll meet lots of other nice young men.’
Adelaide Monkton sat on one of the vacant deck chairs, smoothed a light blanket over her skirt and opened the small book of poetry she’d been carrying. She’d had a very interesting tour of Europe and England these past several months,