Читать книгу From Orchards to Outback - Tracey Friday - Страница 11

“I wish I knew where he was?” Emily said worriedly. “It’s the not knowing. I cannot help but think he will creep up behind us at any moment and what he will do to me when he finally catches up with me…” she brushed away a tear.

“You will be safe on the Station love, please try not to worry too much about it. No more tears, please. Come on, we’re having an adventure here! Rest assured he’ll get what’s coming to him.”

Emily wasn’t so sure.

“Besides,” Mrs Heppler continued, “we have a few extra friends in the truck...”

There was nothing wrong with Maggie’s reflexes as she instantly let out a short sharp scream and leapt up from her seat, nearly banging her head on the roof, as she mistook Mrs Heppler’s statement to mean they had some snakes and spiders on board.

“Bloody hell, Maggie, you will age me tenfold at this rate! Settle down and that’s to the pair of you… I meant this rifle here.” She pointed towards the roof, where a rifle was supported by two material straps. Then she pointed underneath her seat, then to the glove box that Maggie opened to reveal a pistol. “Also, there is a rifle secreted on the inside wall of the truck’s trailer, drivers’ side, and one underneath near the rear left wheel.”

“That many?” asked Maggie.

“That many,” Mrs Heppler confirmed, “you can never be too prepared out here. They are all loaded and ready to go. If you need extra ammo there are three boxes in the glove box. Sorry to go on, but I have to say this to you both for my own sake.”

“Understood Mrs Heppler, thank you.”

“Yes Ma.”

They drove on in silence.

The terrain wasn’t too hospitable. The women were constantly shaken from side to side like rag dolls. Maggie respected machinery and knew the truck was a very good workhorse; not only could it carry provisions that must have weighed a tonne, but it took a lot of bashing from the uneven ground.

“Mrs Heppler, how many times have you done this journey?”

“More times than I care to remember really.”

“Always by yourself?”

“Yes. I prefer it and it works well with the Station. It gives me peace, solitude and thinking time. I’m always equipped with enough provisions and water and can more than get by in vehicle maintenance and I also have the rifles. I’m respectful of the sun, the way of the land and all its glorious nasties. I’m a tough old bird Maggie, I can take care of myself.”

“Can you tell us some stories from England?” asked Emily. “We’d love to hear them.”

“Well,” Maggie began, “as you know I lived on Primrose Farm Estate and as a small child I enjoyed playing in the apple orchards while my mother picked the apples and my father, who was the Estate’s manager, drove the tractor to collect the apples. I remember the air raids, can still hear the sirens, it was very frightening and I could feel the vibration in my chest as hundreds of planes flew overhead on their way to London during the Blitz. I was only three when the war started, so this was all normal to me, but the noise was still scary.

“There were night raids too and I remember that sometimes I would go to bed in my room but in the morning, I woke up in the Anderson shelter down at the bottom of our garden. I had been so fast asleep that I never felt being scooped out of bed and carried to the shelter while the sirens were sounding. Oh, sorry, you probably don’t know, the Anderson shelter was a bunker that was dug into the ground giving us more protection from bombs than staying in the house. It was a small place and smelled of damp earth, there were a couple of benches inside and we had a little food and water as well. We had blankets too because it was so cold over the winter months. To give the shelter extra protection and to also make it look nicer, my father covered the top of the shelter with heaps of soil and grass where buttercups and daisies grew in the springtime.”

Emily and Mrs Heppler listened in awe trying to imagine what life was like back then.

“And then every September the village more or less came to life during the hop season because for the rest of the year it was just a sleepy little village. The hop pickers and their children came down from London and I would play with the children. I also used to love going with my father to see the Squire at the Manor. I liked the Squire, but I loved going to see the housekeeper, Mrs Sutton, even more. She’d give me warm jam tarts and milky cups of tea. I remember it being extra special because she often let me use a real bone china cup and saucer. I’d pretend I was a princess who lived in a huge castle.” Maggie smiled at the memory.

“Oh, that is so sweet,” said Emily, “the castle I mean, not the war.”

Maggie smiled and nodded, knowing what Emily meant. “I remember my mother’s face when I told her about the china. She looked at me in horror as she realised the true value and knew if I had broken it we could never afford to replace it. I was only around five or six then, I think. That was when things were normal, or I thought they were normal, before things changed between us...”

“You don’t have to go on, love,” said Mrs Heppler gently, knowing that Maggie’s father had passed on.

“It’s okay, honestly. I’d rather get it all out now from the start. You see, because the village was in between London and the English Channel we, and many other towns and villages in Kent, had lots of air raids as our pilots tried to intercept the German bombers during the Blitz.

“Just before my eighth birthday my father was killed by a flying bomb, or you may know them as doodlebugs. It was shot down by anti-aircraft fire and landed in the village. I went to bed thinking of birthday party celebrations and woke up to find out that my beloved father was dead.

“After he died my mother did too, in a way. She pushed me away and I didn’t understand why.

“Actually, I believe I will never know the real why. Mrs Collins, our lovely neighbour, looked out for us and helped me a lot. Then we had to move because the Squire needed the cottage and outbuildings for the new manager. The Squire helped us as we moved to another cottage on the Estate on the outskirts of the village. It was a longer walk to the shops and school, but Pete and Billy, Mr and Mrs Collins’ twins, used to walk me home from school. They were heaps of fun and they played all kinds of tricks on me.” Maggie smiled again at the memory.

“Then things got a lot worse. My mother started drinking and the cottage became a horrid place to live. After school I dreaded going home and used to walk as slowly as I could. It was when she left me for days on end without any food in the house that I blurted it all out to my grandma. And that was when I went to live with her. Then things started to get a whole lot better. We had a blast and Sally, my best friend, would come and stay. We used to have tea parties and play music… and then when grandma died a few years later, I was kindly invited to stay with Sally and her parents, who ran the village pub. They became my adopted parents of sorts and I love them dearly.

“I visited my mother just before coming here and we said some horrid things to one another. She actually accused me of killing my father…” Maggie’s voice broke as tears welled up in her eyes.

Emily and Mrs Heppler gasped together in disbelief.

“I know she was angry,” said Maggie, taking a deep breath and continuing on, “she had no one else to blame, but it hurt deeply. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get over that. But, Sally always said, that when someone dies no matter where you are in the world, they will always be with you. I took a lot of comfort in that keeping my father and grandma in mind.

“So. Here I am. Ready to start a new life on the other side of the world. It hasn’t been too bad so far, as I’ve met two lovely ladies already, although…” Maggie looked around, “I’m not sure where they are!”

They all laughed.

“What a bloody awful beginning for you,” said Mrs Heppler. “I knew from your letters about the passing of your father, but never in a million years envisaged anything like this. Stupid woman. What on earth was she thinking to be like that with you and saying those awful things to her own daughter?”

“If I knew the answer, Mrs Heppler, then I’d be the happiest person alive.”

“We’ll always be here Maggie, if you ever want to talk,” said Mrs Heppler, as Emily nodded in agreement and gently patted Maggie’s arm.

Maggie smiled, appreciating the gesture.

“Now, McKinnley Station introductions,” said Mrs Heppler changing the subject. “First, the family: there’s Mr and Mrs McKinnley, their son, Jack and daughter, Sylvia. Look, I’m not a gossip per se, just know that Sylvia can be somewhat difficult, don’t take it personally, it’s just the way she is. Mrs McKinnley, myself and Elsa work more or less in the kitchen and also tend to the washing duties as well as maintaining the gardens and fruit and veggie patches. Then there’s the chooks, cows and goats that need looking after and anything else that may crop up. It certainly keeps us busy.

“Mr Price is the Station manager, who is counting down towards his retirement, then there’s the stockmen, Dusty and Mellow with Jack being the head stockman. Next, there is Ted who is the Station hand, and Sid the jackaroo. Sylvia is a jillaroo, although she prefers to be known as a stockman for whatever reason that only she can answer. Then, at big events like shearing, lambing, the rodeo etc, we have an influx of staff who travel around the Stations. On the whole there are just the eleven of us well, thirteen now that we have acquired you two, plus horses, kelpies and a little matter of around thirty five thousand Merino sheep, give or take a thousand or two!”

“Goodness!” exclaimed Maggie, “That’s a huge jump, I thought there were five thousand?”

“Five thousand? Where did you get that from? No, it’s definitely around thirty five, or thereabouts,” Mrs Heppler said adamantly, nodding her head.

“From one of the letters I received. Mr McKinnley said five, mind you that was a time ago, but all the same…”

Mrs Heppler roared with laughter. “Silly old goose. Excuse me Maggie, but when he wrote the letter, he missed out the word ‘thirty’. That’s funny!” And they all burst out laughing. “You two will bring a breath of fresh air to the Station…”

“Ma, don’t,” said Emily, “You know how I feel about living outback, I love living in the city with…”

“With? Emily! With? He’s no good for you love, forget about him, plus he’s too old for you. He’s nothing but a bully. Can’t abide a bully. Never have, never will. It rattles my ribs it does, and it gets on my tits…”

“MA!” exclaimed Emily, as she turned slightly in her seat to look at her mother, while Maggie did her best to stifle a laugh.

“Excuse my French. But he does. Only way I can describe it.”

It was quiet for a moment as Maggie continued to fight her giggles, then she said, “I wouldn’t have thought that at all,” as she stared out the window.

“What’s that?” asked Mrs Heppler.

“Birds. Lots of birds. I didn’t expect birds to be this far out really. Not sure why, but I didn’t.”

“Pesky critters.”

“Sorry?”

“I hate birds. Well, that’s not totally true. I hate magpies in particular. They are nothing but bastards, buggers and bitches, excuse my French again.”

“MOTHER!” Emily admonished for a second time.

Maggie burst out laughing as Emily said, “Sorry, Maggie. Ma excels in ‘French’, as you can hear.... she also had a very bad experience when she was a girl and has never gotten over it.”

“Yes, thank you Emily. I’ve a tongue in my head,” Mrs Heppler snapped.

“Sorry Ma, just saying.”

“I know you were. Sorry love. This also gets my tits tetchy.”

Emily didn’t bother to comment this time, just shook her head.

“That’s a great saying, Mrs Heppler,” laughed Maggie, “what gets your tits tetchy?”

“Don’t encourage her, Maggie,” smiled Emily as she tried to refrain from laughing also.

“I was quite small, we lived on a remote farm and would only have mail delivered about once a month or so from what I remember. We had this metal rusty old oil drum that my father set up on the edge of the property. It was secured on its side to a small platform away from the ground and the postie used to put the letters or such like in there. It protected the post from any rain or the sun from scorching it to bits. In spring, those bloody pesky magpies used to sit in the trees at the edge of the property and then they used to swoop. I swear they targeted me a mile off. Remembered me from year to year. Bloody buggers.

“They used to swoop so low that I could hear their beaks snapping as they flew close to my ear. One got so close that its beak or claws drew blood from the top of my head as it flew over. So, if I was ever caught outside I used to run as quickly as my little legs would carry me and dive into the metal post drum, so they couldn’t get me.

“Do you know that I never gave a thought that there may be snakes or anything inside it? I just dived in and shuffled around so my back was to the opening to prevent them from flying in. Gave me nightmares for years too. Even now, I can still hear their beaks snapping as they swooped overhead clanging and scraping their claws on top of the metal drum. I cowered in there crying until my grandfather drove by and got me.”

“Goodness, I had no idea it was that bad Ma,” apologised Emily, as she gently rubbed her mother’s arm.

“I had no idea birds could even do that,” said Maggie, feeling a little guilty for laughing.

“Like I said. Bastards, buggers and bitches. Give me a snake, spider or whatever. Just no magpies.”

Eventually they parked and set about installing a quick makeshift shaded area as there were no trees around. It was nearly noon and the sun beat down relentlessly where it seemed every surface stung to the slightest touch. From underneath the truck, Mrs Heppler brought out three long wooden poles, one of which was already attached to a tarpaulin and had rope ties at each end. Goodness what else is under there? thought Maggie.

As she watched, Mrs Heppler carefully slotted the pole attached to the tarp into three hooks along the side of the trailer that Maggie hadn’t noticed until now. There was one hook at each end of the trailer and one in the middle. Then Mrs Heppler slowly walked back holding the end of the tarp until it was fully extended. She then secured one rope tie attaching it around a pole that she had embedded in the ground then she did the same with the other side to give them a perfect temporary respite from the sun.

With the shelter now up, Mrs Heppler took Emily to show her the hidey places of snakes and to also gather some firewood. Maggie wasn’t too pleased to be staying by herself and thought that as soon as the women were out of sight, she would immediately be surrounded by hundreds of venomous creatures, but she tried to remain as calm as she could. Mrs Heppler said that she would take them out in turn so they knew what to look for. It made perfect sense for them not to leave the vehicle unattended. If there was a problem, then they could deal with it as opposed to all of them going and then finding they had gained an unpleasant hitchhiker.

Soon it was Emily’s turn to be posted by the vehicle while Mrs Heppler invited Maggie to come take a quick look. Maggie knew she was in safe hands but was reluctant nonetheless. They crouched a good distance away from some large rocks where, underneath shielded by the sun, was what Mrs Heppler said was a king brown snake. Maggie was quite unnerved. Even curled up it looked large and intimidating. Mrs Heppler said that king browns were highly venomous and should be treated with respect.

“Have you handled any of these Mrs Heppler?” whispered Maggie, not taking her eyes off it for even a moment.

“No, thank goodness I haven’t had to. I will show you some others when we get to the Station. I remember reading one of your letters a few years ago when you were describing your chook houses. Well, you protected them from foxes and we have to protect ours from snakes and wild dogs. Not such different worlds really?

“When we get back to Emily, you can help me top up the engine with water and refill the tank. It’s a dangerous task out here in the heat and the heat of the engine, but with your experience, Maggie, I dare say you know what you are doing. Then we’ll get some tucker going. I could eat a scraggy horse!

“Or,” Mrs Heppler said with a twinkle in her eye, “we could catch one of them king browns. A quick easy meal, what do you think?” as she rolled with laughter as Maggie squirmed at the very thought.