ENJOY: THE JOURNEY OF EMMALINE CH 1

THE JOURNEY OF EMMALINE

If you sit by the river long enough, you will see the bodies of your enemies go floating by. From the writings of Sun Tzu

chapter 1

 Ellie

I cruised along Acacia Street and pulled in beneath a shady tree outside number sixty-eight. Maybe Ruthie had the right idea after all; send in the front line first. Uninvited butterflies had taken up residence in my stomach. I did an Anna and taking a few deep breaths, focused on the lush red poinsettias almost hiding the white weatherboard house. Two small coffee-coloured boys dropped their scooters on the footpath and raced each other to the front door yelling.   

‘Mum, there's a lady here.’

A smiling dark-haired woman in her early thirties greeted me. ‘Hi, you must be Ellie Jamieson; I'm Beth Fairley, Daisy's great-granddaughter. She told me you were coming but not what it's about.’ She raised an expectant eyebrow then ushered me in with a shrug. ‘No doubt she'll tell me when she's good and ready. There's no point trying to prise information out of Gran. She's like a clam when it suits her.’

Even though we were cousins, if somewhat removed, it wasn’t my place to enlighten her. Beth led me out the back to where an old woman was seated in the shade of a huge mango tree, a half completed crossword on the table in front of her.

‘Gran, here’s Ellie come to see you.’

‘There’s no need to shout girl, I’m not deaf, nor blind, for that matter.’

Dark eyes appraised me over the top of half-moon glasses. Beth shot me a ‘see what I have to put up with’ look.

The rich, fermented, fruity smell of overripe mangos hung in the humid air. Daisy and mangos; I made a memory.

My preconceived image of a wizened little old black lady was about as far from reality as it could be. She was black and by definition old, but despite her shock of steel grey hair, the woman who rose to greet me gave an impression of youthful vigour. Good humour and strength of character were stamped on her full featured face.

As if aware of my thoughts she gave a throaty laugh. ‘As the old saying goes, I’m a young man in an old man’s body.’ A warm hand clasped mine. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you Ellie. Come and sit down.’ A big white smile creased her face. ‘You remind me of myself at your age. I used to be about your size.’

Daisy carried her height and ample proportions with easy grace. I had a fleeting image of myself in sixty years. Beth hovered, no doubt hopeful of further information. 

‘Go and make yourself useful, there’s a good girl. I’m sure Ellie would love a cuppa. I know I would. I’m dry as a bone.’ She shooed Beth away and smiled at me, her fellow conspirator. 

‘What do you think of the tablelands? God’s own country isn’t it?’ Adam’s words echoed in my mind.

I was surprised at how comfortable I felt with Daisy. ‘I love it. I’d like to live up here. It feels like home.’

There was speculative amusement in those dark eyes. I had the weird feeling she knew something I didn’t. ‘Well good things come to those who wait. And you look like a girl who knows what she’s about.’

‘Well I don’t know about that. But I’m working on it.’ Maybe she’s right, perhaps I am heading towards a point where I’ll be happy being me. 

‘And what sort of work do you do Ellie?’

I told her about my articles for The Australian, and various magazines and I had quite a few short stories published. ‘But what I really want to do is write a novel.’ 

She smiled. ‘A girl after my own heart. I’ve been scribbling for fifty odd years, and had a few things published too. Poetry mostly. Getting your thoughts down on paper clarifies a lot of issues.’

On impulse I leaned over to her. ‘Would you mind if I take some notes? I’d love to do a story on your life.’

‘Me? Why would you want to write about me?’

I didn’t have a chance to answer before Beth placed a tray on the table between us. 

‘Help yourself to a scone. Beth’s a good cook and you could do with fattening up a bit.’ She inclined her head towards the house. ‘And if we don’t watch out those two young scallywags will be here to clean ’em up.’ ‘For your information Gran the boys have already had their smoko and besides you shouldn’t be saying things like that to Ellie when you hardly even know her.’

Daisy harrumphed. ‘About what? The scones or her weight?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘If you can’t speak your mind when you get to my age, it’s a pretty poor thing. What do you reckon Ellie?’

I grinned and bit into a scone still warm from the oven and oozing jam and cream. No one had ever suggested I needed fattening up before. I liked this lady.    

Daisy nodded at Beth’s retreating back. ‘She’s a good girl and she’s dying to know what’s going on. I won’t keep her in suspense too long.’

We sat sipping our tea like old friends until at last she broached the subject of my visit. ‘So you're Ruth's granddaughter eh?’

I decided this was a cue for me to explain about Ruthie's headache. Even though she nodded I had a gut feeling Daisy wasn’t fooled. 

‘What's she like this daughter of mine?’

‘She’s very well educated, very successful in her field. She married a doctor and has travelled all over the world. Grandad died last year and she decided to come home.’

 ‘That’s not what I asked. I want to know what she’s like. What sort of a woman is she?’

‘She’s not very much like you.’ That didn’t come out right and I was relieved when she responded with a laugh.

‘What does that mean? She’s not black like me or that she’s a hoity-toity madam.’

I grinned and shrugged. ‘All of the above. She’s nice enough, but she has about as much warmth as a refrigerator.’ Then deciding I was being a bit harsh I added. ‘I mean she’s very reserved.’

‘You can’t make people be what they aren’t. Believe me that’s a recipe for disaster. Bluey and me were married thirty-seven years before the booze finally got him. Wouldn’t give it up though, even though he knew it was killing him.’

There was no rancour in her voice, maybe a touch of regret though. She waited a while before going on. When she continued her tone was light. 

‘So how many kids did refrigerator Ruth produce in between all this gallivanting around and being successful?’

I suppressed a pang of guilt. Still Ruthie could have been here to explain herself. 

‘She had two kids; my mother Diana, and my Aunt Annabelle. I have a sister Adrienne.’ I pulled a face, then added ‘Annabelle's expecting her first baby.’

She gave me a shrewd glance. ‘I take it you’re fond of your aunt, and not your mother or your sister. Right?  Well you can’t choose your relatives lovey, more’s the pity. I’ve been threatening to put up a sign saying “Friends welcome, rellies by invitation only.”’

We both laughed. ‘My mother is like Ruthie; not very giving, and my sister is a spoilt brat, but Anna is so full of life just like you. Except she has blonde hair, masses of it.’ I grinned at her. ‘Maybe some of your big hair genes have been handed down.’ I gave my own thick hair a toss. 

‘Big hair genes indeed.’ She chuckled. ‘I suppose that's one way of putting it.’

I plunged on with my explanation. ‘Ruthie was horrified when she found out the father of Anna’s baby was indigenous. She wanted her to have an abortion.’

‘Indigenous.’ Daisy gave me a look that suggested she found the word unpalatable. I went on. ‘That’s what brought out the truth about Ruthie’s parentage. She'd never been told she was adopted, but Anna was with Poppy, her grandfather, when he died, and he told her the story.’

Daisy’s dark eyes lost some of their sparkle. ‘That must have knocked Ruthie off her perch.’

‘Yeah it was a double whammy. With no warning Annabelle just burst out and told us she was pregnant. That was enough of a shock. Then for Ruthie to find out she was adopted. Well Ruthie can be overbearing and autocratic but honestly the poor woman more than fell off her perch. She was absolutely shattered. She refused to believe it was true. I guess Anna who is usually so sweet, wanted to get back at her mother for demanding she have an abortion. Neither of them would give an inch.’

‘Poor Ruthie, life doesn’t always go the way we want. Some things are taken out of our hands. You just have to get on with it. Young as I was I felt the judge and his wife were good people. Eleanor kept having miscarriages and then she had a hysterectomy. She was desperate for a little one.’ 

She closed her eyes and I waited. ‘Funny isn’t it, here I was popping them out and the poor lady could never have one of her own. They sent me money every month you know. I never felt it was blood money or charity. I believe they really cared about what happened to me. Still they never came back to see if I was okay. Maybe they were scared I’d want her back. Over the years I’ve wondered though, if she was all right and if I did the right thing giving her up. I asked them to keep the name Ruth you know. They did that for me.’ I had no answer. 

‘I missed her for a long time, but then I had eight kids and you get over it and I thought she was better off with them. As long as a kid is loved it doesn’t matter much who does the loving.  ‘Is Annabelle’s fella nice? Is he a good man?’

I thought of Ernie’s ready smile, his absolute honesty, and nodded. ‘Trying to pick a good fella, that’s a hat trick. I didn’t do so well in that respect. Bluey was a good looking man, I’ll give him that and I was so young that’s all I could see and, when he was sober he was okay.  So what about you Ellie? Have you got someone special?’

I thought about Jack. Had he been special? Had he made me feel special? He’d never loved me. I was like some groupie who’d followed him home for the night and went to work and paid for his booze and drugs. Stupid is what I’d been. Nothing special about that. The world is full of users. I guess I hadn’t loved him either but still it hurts to be cast aside. 

‘I don’t seem to be doing too well when it comes to picking a guy either Daisy. I had a relationship that lasted three years. He was good looking too and a real charmer. Then I caught him cheating. And well I was so angry at him and at myself for being so gullible. Best thing really. I packed up and moved to Brisbane. Anyway he died of a drug overdose. So I stopped feeling angry and just felt sad.’ 

I started to laugh. ‘The last time I saw him he was dripping spaghetti sauce from the saucepan I’d hurled at him. And you wouldn’t believe it, he said, “You always make a great spag bol Ell.” That’s how I want to remember him.’ 

Daisy grinned and shook her head. I went on, ‘Well there is another guy. Adam is everything Jack wasn’t. Mr Perfect really, but he’s got someone else.’ I shrugged. ‘It is what it is.’

‘Well don’t give up too soon lovey. As they say a good man is hard to find. If I’d had any sense, I could have done a lot better. I came from a good family. My mother was educated and wanted us kids to have the same privileges, and I’m not just talking about the three Rs.’

I looked blank and she smiled. ‘Reading, Riting & Rithmatic. We had all that certainly, but mum tried to educate us into the ways of the world as well. Education is the key Ellie; it opens doors a lot of people don’t even know exist.’ Her dark eyes looked fierce. ‘Ignorance is an affliction that can only be cured if its existence is recognized.’

I nodded acknowledging her wisdom. ‘It’s sort of like you don’t know what you don’t know. It sounds like your mother taught you well.’ ‘My father died when I was little so for a long time it was just mum, my brother David and me. David was nine years older than me and when he got married he and his wife lived with us too. I was thirteen when I lost mum.’ I waited for her to go on. 

‘Cooktown’s boom days were over by then. It was just another small town. No tourists in those days. There were more black fellas than whites and of course the good citizens didn’t want them hanging around looking for handouts.’ She gave a mirthless smile. ‘No welfare back then. You had to sort yourself out or starve. My mother’s name was Lilli.’ Daisy visibly softened. ‘Mum spent her whole life working for the underprivileged, didn’t matter what colour they were, if they needed her she was there, mother confessor, friend, teacher and nurse.’

Daisy reached over and poured herself another cup of tea. ‘It was her goodness that killed her in the end. There was an outbreak of diphtheria. A few white kids died but mainly it affected our mob. My mother literally worked herself into the grave.’ She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. ‘I couldn’t believe it at first. That she was gone. I suppose God decided she needed a nice long rest.’ Daisy’s shoulders drooped beneath the burden of the years. ‘After all this time I still miss her. Nothing can ever replace a mother's love.’ She closed her eyes. Was it her mother’s face she saw or did she seek her own lost child?

I felt the familiar ache, the hopeless longing for something I’d never known; my mother’s love. With an effort I broke the silence. ‘What happened to you then, where did you go?’

‘My grandma was a great lady and she wanted to take us away from Cooktown to live with her. Me and David and his wife. When Mum was alive, Grandma came to stay with us quite often. Sometimes her husband and one of Mum’s half-brothers would come too. Whenever she came to visit there were always presents for us. She always seemed to know just the right thing to give you. Looking back, I can see everything was given with genuine love. There were always books and when I was little I’d sit on her lap and she’d read to me. But there was such a bond between Mum and grandma, I felt left out. And I was jealous.’ She gave a little chuckle. 

‘I sometimes wished she wouldn’t come. Just send the presents.

‘I think she was very rich but,’ Daisy leaned over and tapped my arm smiling, ‘she was also very white and no matter how she tried she couldn't bridge the gap between us. I just couldn’t see myself fitting into her world.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve often wondered what would’ve happened if I'd gone to live with her. Instead I chose to stay with my brother. David was a good man, but in taking on the big brother role he was too strict for me and by the time I was fourteen I’d had enough.’

I interrupted her. ‘Um, if your grandma was white was she married to an Aboriginal man?’

She gave a snort of laughter. ‘Lord no, her husband was as white as you are. But my mother Lilli’s father was a full blood from the Princess Charlotte Bay area. And that’s another story. She taught us the old ways and the language. I’ve passed everything I could remember on to my own brood. Now where was I? Yes, well that's when I met Bluey. I was pregnant before my fifteenth birthday and even though David didn't approve, we were married. After that I had a kid every mango season.’ Her down to earth humour showed through.

‘Ruthie was my fourth in as many years. Just before she was born my eldest, a little boy, Keith his name was, died of dysentery. So you see Ellie

I lost two of my babies.’

I didn’t know what to say, so I waited for her to go on.

‘And by that time Bluey was giving me a touch up regularly.’ I broke in on her reverie. ‘What does that mean? A touch up.’

‘It's what the black fellas did to keep their women in line. Although Bluey was more white than black, when he was drunk he'd belt me black and blue.’ She chuckled at her little joke.

I was appalled. ‘Why did you stay with him then, if he beat you up?’

She leaned over and patted my hand. ‘The same reason women put up with domestic violence today. Because you always reckon it's gonna get better. Course it never does. Or not for a damned long time anyway. By the time Bluey kicked the bucket he’d settled down though.’

Daisy had had it tough and yet she’d survived. I felt a surge of pride, knowing we were related. 

‘I really would like to write about you, the story of your life would make a wonderful book. I don’t have to use real names, but I can base it on fact.’

‘Lord no. But thank you anyway.’ She looked thoughtful and I wondered if she was reconsidering. She went on, ‘Now where was I? Oh yes, I was saying about Bluey and his wild ways. That's partly why I gave my Ruthie up. When the judge and his wife asked if they could adopt her, I thought about Keith dying and of all the things she would have I could never give her and I was so low at the time, I didn’t have any fight left in me. Anyway, it’s just as well the booze got to Bluey, slowed him down a bit, or I probably would've had a dozen kids. As it is I've done my bit and then some. I fostered umpteen of the little blighters as well.’

A mango landed with a plop just half a metre away startling the colourful parrots imbibing the fermented juices. I laughed at the sight of them staggering around like they’d had a hard night out. ‘Do they get hangovers?’

Daisy gave a brief shake of her head. ‘The way they squawk and carry on, you’d think so. But it doesn’t stop them coming back for more. Mangoes, damned messy things. Beth spends half her life raking them up. There’s plenty ready to pick. Take some home with you. Or better still steal some of the happy hour ones off those greedy birds.’ 

She winked. ‘Might thaw Ruthie out a bit.’

As if on cue, I watched as Beth made a beeline across the lawn towards us. 

I had to strain to hear Daisy’s words. ‘It's funny though, I thought about Ruthie a lot over the years. I suppose you never really let go of your own flesh and blood.’

Beth softened her words with a smile. ‘It’s time for lunch and then you need to rest Gran.’

She took Daisy's arm and helped her to her feet. I glanced at my watch surprised at how fast the time had flown.

‘Is it okay if I come and see you again tomorrow?’

‘I'd like that Ellie.’ She looked at me hard as if making up her mind about something. ‘Wait for me on the veranda.’

Ten minutes later the two women emerged and Beth placed a bundle wrapped in several layers of cloth on the table. I smelled camphor and something else, maybe lavender. Daisy unwrapped four thick, leather bound books. 

‘I want you to take these Ellie.’

‘What are they?’

‘This is Ruthie’s history, your history.  My mother passed them on to me and I’ve been waiting a long time for you to come along and claim them. This is the story you should write. Later, you’ll realize it’s a sacred trust. I get back from church about eleven so come for lunch, there’s always enough food for an army. Bring Ruthie, tell her I don’t bite.’

When I pulled up outside our motel room Ruthie was sitting on the little patio an untouched cup of coffee in front of her. She didn’t quite leap up when she saw me, but she looked very anxious. I don’t think she slept much last night. I plonked two pies I’d picked up from the bakery, down on the table and went to get a coke. 

‘For heaven’s sake Ellie stop prancing around and tell me what happened.’

‘She’s an exceptional lady. Well-spoken and intelligent.’ I couldn’t resist adding. ‘Of course she is black. And we’re invited for lunch tomorrow.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t go. I’m glad you’ve met her, but I simply cannot do it. Eleanor Bentley was my mother, no matter what anyone says.’

‘Well that’s too bad, because I’ve already accepted on your behalf and you’re going to look like a prize idiot if you back out again. And what about Daisy?  She’s one of the finest and bravest people I’ve ever met and you should be proud to know she’s your birth mother.’ I squirted some tomato sauce on my pie and refused to discuss it any further. 

Ruthie was lying down when I opened the first journal. Written in perfect copperplate handwriting it was dated: 11^th February 1879. 

I read for about half an hour before I shook Ruthie awake, and babbled. ‘It’s incredible, like a voice from the grave.’ I waved the diary at her. ‘This is Daisy’s grandmothers. Her name was Emmaline.’ I grabbed Ruthie’s glasses off the table and thrust the journal at her, then made coffee and hovered, waiting for her to reach the part where I’d read to. 

‘Well? What do you think?’ I grabbed the book off her and began to read out loud. Adam rang at five to see how the meeting with Daisy had gone, and to ask us for dinner. I thanked him and said no, we were fine and I’d talk to him later. Three hours later I rang for Pizza delivery and Ruthie and I shared a bottle of wine. 

 Emmaline: here was an ancestor Ruthie could be proud of, even boast of.  We took it in turns to make coffee and read out loud, at times choking on the words and wiping away tears. Perhaps it was an emotional release for Ruthie after the months of turmoil, whatever the reason I’ve had a glimpse at a side of my undemonstrative grandmother I didn’t know existed. 

Daisy has given me the most amazing gift.