The Plantation - Di Morrissey [60]
They drove through an entrance marked by two large trees, across a grassy knoll and stopped under tall pine trees. Stretching into the distance was a spectacular view over the plantation, patches of jungle in the distance. At this high point, at the very edge of the knoll, sat a heavy wooden seat facing the stunning vista.
Further back stood a tiny white church, its roof of faded red tiles, a well-tended garden in front, bordering the white gravel path to its door.
‘What a sweet little church!’ exclaimed Julie. ‘Is it still used?’
‘Only very occasionally. We were both christened here,’ said Peter. ‘And Shane and Martine were married here. They were the first to do so.’
‘Were your children christened here, too?’ asked Julie.
Shane nodded. ‘Yes, it’s a family tradition. I expect your mother was christened here, too.’
Julie walked slowly down the path to the church door thinking how some places, be it a house or a church, a seat on a knoll or an entire plantation, could connect you to the past. Her grandmother’s house in Brisbane linked Julie to her very first memories.
‘I wonder why Roland didn’t marry Gran here, instead of the church in KL,’ said Julie.
‘Convenience. Too hard to have all the guests trek out here, I expect,’ said Peter.
‘Yes, I suppose so. Can I go inside?’ asked Julie.
‘Of course.’ Shane led the way and unlatched the heavy front door.
Julie found the whitewashed interior surprisingly cool. Sunlight shone through the stained glass window above the tiny altar and coloured beams bounced off the old wooden pews. The atmosphere was warm and friendly and not the lonely, remote place she thought the setting might make it feel. Then she noticed the old family photographs set in wallmounts beneath a small carved cross and she recognised her grandmother in one of them.
‘We used to keep the family Bible here, but the climate made it deteriorate, so it’s in the air-conditioned computer room in the big house,’ said Shane.
‘Does it have the births, deaths and marriages of the family listed in the front?’ asked Julie, with a smile.
‘It does indeed. Your mother is in there and so are you and your brother,’ said Peter.
Julie immediately thought of her brother. Adelaide seemed another universe from this little church and she doubted Adam would have much interest in this side of the family in such a distant place.
Shane locked the church door behind them and Ramdin got out of the car and opened the back door for Julie.
‘Julie, a moment. There’s one more spot you might like to see,’ said Shane.
She followed the two men around the side of the church to where a cluster of trees shaded a small grassed area, which she quickly realised was a small graveyard. In it centre was a grave, surrounded by a small iron fence and a large headstone at one end. The inscription on it read:
In loving memory of Eugene Orson Elliott
Husband of Charlotte, devoted father to Roland
Died 1941
Founder of Utopia, pioneer and philanthropist
RIP
Julie stared at the grave, so quiet and sheltered, so far from where he’d been born. Slowly it dawned on her that the man buried here was her great grandfather. This was a place so far from Australia, and yet she was linked to it. Nearby were two more graves, lying side by side. A single headstone marked their place. On it Julie read:
Philip Elliott and Stephanie Elliott
Loving parents of Peter and Shane
Died 1994
United forever
‘I wish we’d known more about the Elliott side of the family,’ she said softly. ‘Why is it we rarely think about our families, or ask the people connected to us, until it’s too late? I keep wishing I’d asked my grandmother more about her life here.’
‘The same for us,’ agreed Peter. ‘Our father hardly ever mentioned anything about his life when he was young, and we were never really curious enough to ask him, and then he was killed suddenly, and it was all too late. And there’s Grandfather’s grave. It’s just over here.’
Julie looked at Roland’s grave and realised that she was looking at the resting place of her grandfather, a man she had never