The Plantation - Di Morrissey [154]
Winifred looked up from the flour-covered tabletop where she was rolling out pastry. ‘Glad you got back safely, dear. Dinner won’t be long. It’s lovely cooking for more than just your father and me. I’m so glad that you’ve come back for a holiday. It would be even better if you could get a nice job here, at home.’
‘Mother, we’ve been through this. Brisbane is such a backwater. I know that Sydney is not the centre of the universe, either, but there are more opportunities there than there are here.’
‘Let her be, Win,’ said her father. ‘What’s for tea?’
‘Steak and kidney pie,’ said Winifred flattening the circle of pastry with a firm bang of the rolling pin.
Bette wandered out of the kitchen. She knew her parents worried about her future. It had taken some time for her health to return after the years of deprivation in the prison camp, but she had been determined to catch up on life. She enjoyed Sydney, mixing with the bohemian artists, while she worked in several jobs. But Bette felt that she had lived for so long minute by minute, day by day, that she still couldn’t bring herself to make long-term plans. Maybe Winifred was right and that she was indulging herself by doing only what interested her and gave her pleasure. Art seemed to fulfil her. She was content losing herself in the images she could paint, which replaced the ugly scenes that haunted her sleep.
‘There’s a letter for you from Margaret. I put it on your bed,’ said Winifred. ‘I do hope she’s sent some photos of Philip and our dear little Caroline.’
Margaret and Philip had returned to Malaya three and a half years ago. Eventually Margaret had given birth to a daughter, whom they’d named Caroline, while Roland tried to rebuild Utopia after the devastation of the war. But clearly life was difficult. In her letters home, Margaret described things as being tiresome, nowhere near as glamorous as the pre-war years had been.
Bette skimmed through the opening niceties of the letter, before finding the real reason her sister had written:
And while I understand you’re absorbed in whatever you do in Sydney, it would be very nice, and very helpful, if you could come up and visit us. Roland agrees with me and, indeed, is very keen to have you here again. Unfortunately, you must realise that things won’t be as they were. Sadly many of the wonderful men like Gilbert are no longer around. As you know, the estate was a disaster at the end of the war and it’s a big job for Roland to get things turned around, especially without his father, although some of the old staff are still here to help. I’d like the opportunity to get out and about a bit, and if you were here I’m sure Roland would be more amenable to the children and me taking a few little trips. I’d also like Caroline to meet someone from my family and it would be nice to have you here to brighten our dreary social calendar! I know Mother and Father are getting on a bit and, anyway, they’re not travellers, so I don’t expect them to visit me. You don’t have a proper job to speak of, so it’s easy for you to leave. It would please us both if you could come. I’ve enclosed some current photographs of Caroline for you.
Love, your sister, Margaret
There was little mention of Philip in the letter. Bette had kept in touch with her nephew and sent him illustrations of things she thought would interest him, as well as a good supply of Australian storybooks. His thank you notes for these gifts were short and revealed little about himself. Bette wondered how he was getting on. Children were resilient, she told herself, so she hoped that he had put all the horrors of the war behind him and was now a happy, normal boy.
Several days later another letter arrived from Malaya. Bette realised at once that it wasn’t from her sister and hoped that nothing had happened to cause the invitation to be withdrawn. To her surprise, the note was from Roland.
… I’m pleased to hear you are doing well, Bette. I know Margaret has written inviting you to visit and I just wanted to add