Dreamscapes Page 6

  ‘Oh, Declan,’ Velda’s sigh was a sob of anguish. ‘Has it really come to this? Surely Mr Kane will buy the wagon once he realises how broke we are?’

  There was a long silence. ‘Mr Kane has been generous to a fault over the months he’s been with us,’ Declan said finally. ‘And although I’m grateful to him, we must not rely so heavily on him to bail us out of trouble. I am still head of this family – of this troupe, what’s left of it – and I will decide what is to be done.’ There was a pause. ‘The wagon and horse will have to go, along with any props and costumes we can sell off. We won’t be needing them.’

  ‘But what about Catriona?’ whispered her mother fiercely. ‘She’s the voice of an angel, you only had to listen to the applause tonight, and see the audience’s faces when she sang to know she’s a bright future ahead of her. We can’t just give up.’

  ‘Catriona’s eleven years old, and still a child,’ he replied softly. ‘Who knows what will happen to her voice when she reaches puberty? But we can’t afford to speculate, to risk surviving on the few pennies we’re bringing in. We must sell what we can and move on.’

  ‘Where to?’ sobbed Velda. ‘What’s to become of us?’

  ‘Cairns,’ he said firmly. ‘Kane has contacts there who might help us to find work. He’s already sent a letter to an old friend of his who’s got a hotel somewhere up there. We just have to hope he has something for us all.’

  Catriona buried her head beneath the blankets, the tears hot as they rolled down her face and soaked the kapok pillow. She loved singing – loved the way her voice soared in harmony with her mother’s as they rehearsed – loved the passion of the beautiful arias she’d learned from the scratched records her father had collected and which she played on the wind-up gramophone. Now it seemed that all her dreams were to be shattered.

  As the moon waned and the stars slowly lost their brilliance, Catriona struggled to come to terms with what this bleak future might hold.

  *

  Dawn came to Toowoomba and Catriona was the first to rise. She clambered down from the wagon, her eyes bleary from lack of sleep, her spirits low despite the beauty of her surroundings. Remnants of mist clung to the tops of the trees and capped the soft undulations of the surrounding hills, and the dew sparkled in the long grass. In the distance she could hear the cackle of a kookaburra, and this sound would normally have cheered her, but this morning she was too downhearted to even raise a smile. A flock of rosellas and galahs clattered from a nearby tree and rose in a cloud of bright colour into the pale sky with shrieks of alarm as she walked barefooted through the wet grass to where the horses were still dozing.

  Kane’s flashy gelding snorted and tossed his head when he discovered she hadn’t brought him a carrot, but the old shires, Jupiter and Mars, stood placidly in the early morning sunlight as she stroked their sturdy necks and told them her troubles. Both horses had been a part of her life from her earliest memory. She’d learned to ride on their broad backs, had groomed them and fed them and looked after them as special members of her extended family. Now Mars was to be sold. It was all too much to bear, and mindless of the dew soaking the hem of her nightdress and chilling her feet, Catriona buried her face in the long mane and wept bitter tears.

  ‘You’ll catch your death,’ said the quiet voice behind her.

  Catriona whirled around. She’d been so deep in thought she hadn’t heard his approach. ‘Will you buy Mars and the wagon, Mr Kane?’ she said with breathless entreaty. ‘We need the money, you see, and I couldn’t bear to leave Mars behind, and the wagon will be so much more comfortable than your old tent.’ She finally ran out of breath.

  Kane’s long riding boots swished through the grass as he strode forward and patted the shire’s broad nose. ‘Regrettably, my dear, I have no need of another horse, and my tent is sufficient.’ He sighed. ‘It’s always sad to say goodbye to old friends, but Mars has earned his rest, don’t you think?’

  Catriona looked up into the handsome face. Kane’s hair glinted gold in the rising sun, his eyes were very blue in his tanned face, and he’d recently trimmed his moustache and goatee. There seemed to be genuine sadness in his expression and she felt another onslaught of tears threatening.

  ‘Don’t cry, little one,’ he said gently as his fingers traced the tracks of her tears down her cheeks. ‘Be glad for Mars that he’ll have a fine stable to live in, and lots of grass to eat. And for Poppy too. She’s got a great adventure ahead of her – just as we have.’

  Catriona sniffed and ducked her chin. She knew he was making sense, but at this very moment she didn’t feel like being glad for anyone.

  ‘Come, child. Your feet must be freezing.’

  Catriona was about to argue when she was swept up into his arms and held tightly against his chest. She lay in his embrace, too surprised to protest as he looked down at her and smiled. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart against her side, could feel the strength of his arms and the roughness of the tweed jacket against her cheek as he held her close. His breath was shallow, the air of it tainted with tobacco smoke as he dropped a fleeting kiss on her brow. His eyes, she noticed were very blue and seemed to delve right to her very core as he looked down at her. She pushed against his chest, suddenly shy and awkward. ‘I can walk,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m not a baby.’

  ‘Why walk when you can be carried?’ asked Kane with a laugh. ‘I’ll wager Cleopatra never walked anywhere. Don’t you like to be treated like a queen?’ He didn’t wait for a reply, and began to carry her back to the wagons. ‘Let’s see what we can find for m’lady’s breakfast,’ he murmured.

  It was a solemn affair, for they all knew this was the last meal they would have together. Even Max seemed to have caught the desultory mood and ate his meal in silence before returning to his bed in the second wagon. It was agreed he should be allowed to rest while they said goodbye to Poppy, for he didn’t really have much of a grip on reality and there was no point in distressing him further.

  The station was a long Victorian edifice with a corrugated-iron roof and wooden lace-work running between the posts of the broad verandah. From the neatly swept platform there was a clear view of the rails which ran far into the distance in both directions. To the east, lay Brisbane and the coast. To the west was channel country, where millions of acres were home to the vast cattle herds of Queensland’s Outback. A train was waiting, smoke billowed from the stack and steam hissed between the great iron wheels. Horses were being loaded at the back, and a large consignment of cattle was being coaxed up the ramps of the cattle-trucks. A few passengers stood waiting to board, huddled into little groups on the platform, or standing alone, staring along the rails and the empty miles they would soon cross to their destination.

  Catriona sat among the baskets of costumes and watched as her father handed Poppy the ticket and the rest of her wages. Her tears blinded her as she tried to stamp the image of her friend into her mind so she would never forget her. Poppy was dressed in a smart, sprigged cotton dress that had buttons down the front and white collar and arm-cuffs. A thin white belt was around her waist, and she wore a jaunty, homemade hat on her freshly washed hair, gloves on her hands and highly polished, low-heeled shoes with a strap that buttoned across the instep. She had never seen Poppy look so smart – or so different. It was as if by making the decision to leave, Poppy had shed the frills and flounces and become ordinary and colourless – had changed into a stranger – the distance between her past and her future already widening.

  Catriona clambered down from the wagon and stood in silent anguish as her friend said goodbye to the others. She blinked away the tears and did her best to look stoic as Poppy enfolded her in a warm embrace.

  ‘Come on, luv,’ Poppy coaxed into her hair. ‘No tears, there’s my girl.’

  ‘I don’t want to say goodbye,’ sniffed Catriona as she pulled from the embrace and looked into Poppy’s eyes.

  ‘Neither do I,’ murmured Poppy, her voice unsteady, her blue eyes st
rangely bright. ‘That’s why I’m going now before you get me crying too.’

  Catriona saw Kane and the others watching, and had a brilliant flash of inspiration. She caught Poppy’s arm as she turned away. ‘If you married Mr Kane, then you wouldn’t have to leave, or find a job, or anything.’ She smiled in delight at how clever she was to find such a wonderful last-minute solution. ‘You could stay with us and have babies, and I’d help to look after them.’ She looked into her friend’s face, her delight vanquished by what she saw there.

  Poppy didn’t seem at all thrilled with the idea – in fact she looked shocked. She glanced across at Kane before turning back to Catriona. ‘He ain’t my type,’ she said firmly. ‘And I certainly ain’t ’is.’ She hesitated as if she wanted to say more, but instead gave Catriona a swift peck on the cheek. ‘Nice try, darlin’, but I gotta be goin’ or I’ll miss me train. I’ve left some of me dresses for you. They’re a bit washed-out, but they’ll fit you better than your old stuff. Take care of yourself, and one day I just know I’ll see your name up in lights.’ She blew a final kiss to all of them and hurried through the station door and out of sight.

  Catriona knew she was behaving like a baby, but she couldn’t help it. She pulled away from her mother’s restraining hand and raced across the dirt road, heedless of an approaching truck, to the station. The shadows were deep in the ticket hall, and her hurried footsteps echoed in the silence. The platform was cool in the shade of the sloping roof – and deserted but for the guard who was waving his flag. It was as if Poppy had been swallowed up by the great iron beast that belched smoke and steam.

  Catriona ran along the platform, looking into the carriages. She wanted one last chance to say goodbye. One last chance to see her again before she was gone from her life for ever. But it was not to be. With a snort of smoke and a hiss of steam the great wheels began to turn. Jolting and clanking, the carriages rocking, they gathered pace and drew the great iron train into the searing brightness. She stood on the deserted platform and watched as it chugged along the silvery rails until the last carriage was a mere speck in the distance. The mournful wail of its hooter echoed across the deserted grasslands – a final, sad farewell to Toowoomba and those it had left behind.

  *

  Mars stood patiently beside Jupiter, his great plumed feet spread sturdily in the dirt. He tossed his head in welcome and nuzzled her hair as Catriona leaned her cheek against him and groomed him for the last time. It was to be a day of goodbyes, and Catriona’s heart was breaking.

  ‘This is Mr Mallings,’ said Velda softly as she put her arm around Catriona. ‘He’s going to give Mars a good home.’

  ‘Too right, darlin’,’ said the ruddy-faced stranger as he tipped his hat. He reached out a calloused hand and slapped the shire’s strong neck in appreciation. ‘He’s a fine old horse, so he is, and I’ve acres of paddock for him to keep down.’ He bent from the waist so his face was on a level with Catriona’s. ‘You’ll always be welcome to visit him, should you be passing this way again, and I promise he’ll not want for anything.’

  Catriona stood aside and watched as Mars plodded away with his new owner. He didn’t look back, didn’t seem to realise he would never again pull a Music Hall Wagon. She sniffed back the tears and gave a shaky laugh as Jupiter nuzzled her shoulder. It was as if he was commiserating with her, for he too was losing a lifelong friend.

  ‘We’d better get back to camp,’ muttered Velda. ‘Max shouldn’t be left on his own for too long, and there’s a travelling salesman coming to look at the other wagon.’

  The day progressed, each minute seeming to drag like an hour. The salesman bought the second wagon and Max’s few possessions were stowed away in the almost empty storage box beneath the first. The costume baskets were bought by a woman who owned a millinery shop in the main street. She would use them to store the bales of material. The piano had long since given in to termite and worm and had fallen apart months ago, left behind as they’d had moved on. Most of the costumes were already gone, the stock depleted as each member of the troupe left for new horizons, and the few pieces that remained were sold for pennies or burned. The once grand pulpit was riddled with worm, the velvet covering and tassels moth-eaten, mildewed and worthless.

  Declan and Kane dug a pit and filled it with all the rubbish. The pulpit from which Declan had performed for so many years was the last addition. It burned merrily, and soon there was nothing left but a pile of smouldering ashes.

  Despite her own pain, Catriona realised she wasn’t the only one who was suffering. Da’s face was haggard and drawn as he stirred the cold ashes with the toe of his boot. Mam bustled back and forth, her face set, her eyes determinedly dry as she kept up a brittle chatter. Yet her anguish could be seen in the trembling of her hands and in the dark shadows that bruised the flesh beneath her eyes. Even Kane’s usually cheerful face was sombre as he moved around the remains of the camp and quietly saw to the confused Max.

  The five of them left Toowoomba in silence. None of them looked back.

  Several days later they camped among the bunya and pine and the extensive rainforests of the Bunya Mountains. It was a good place to rest – a perfect spot to explore and refresh the spirit – for there were orchids in the forest, and swathes of wildflowers to be picked from among the tangled roots and fallen branches of the trees. Rock wallabies and kangaroos grazed in the grassland and a profusion of colourful birds flitted and chattered overhead, their noise bringing life to the dark and mysterious forests.

  Catriona and her parents climbed the great craggy hills and gasped in wonder at the magnificent views of the grasslands and the green canopy of the forest below them. Vast waterfalls tumbled down the ancient walls of the mountains and filled swiftly flowing rivers which raced headlong towards the coast. The earth was red and fertile, and in the fields surrounding Kingaroy they could see the flourishing peanut and bean crops that brought wealth to the farming community.

  They returned to camp, pleasantly weary from their long hike in the hills, and were met by an obviously agitated Kane. He glanced at Catriona before taking Declan by the arm and leading him out of earshot.

  Catriona saw her father blanch, saw his anxious glance over his shoulder and the silent message telegraphed to Mam who was standing beside her. ‘What’s happening, Mam?’ she asked fearfully.

  ‘Stay there,’ Velda ordered sharply. ‘Make yourself useful by putting the billy on to boil. We could all do with a cup of tea.’ She moved swiftly away and joined the two men, then, after a hurried conference, they walked over to the tent that had been set up beneath a towering fern.

  Catriona shivered. She knew what had happened. Leaving the billycan by the side of the smouldering fire, she slowly approached the tent.

  Velda emerged, her face grey with distress. She looked at Catriona, the rebuke dying on her lips as the first tear slowly ran down her cheek. ‘He’s gone to sleep, darling,’ she said gruffly. ‘Max has come to the end of his travelling. He’s finally at rest, poor old man.’ She covered her face with her hands and wept.

  Catriona had never seen death before, and although she was fearful of what she might find, she blinked away her tears and looked through the opening in the canvas. How peaceful he looked, she thought with surprise. It was as if he slept, the lines of care and worry erased in that dreamless, endless sleep from which he would never return.

  Her attention was caught by Patch. The little terrier was curled at Max’s side, ears drooping, eyes filled with liquid sadness as he looked up at her. She hesitantly stepped into the tent which was lit by the green glow of the surrounding forest, and approached the still figure that was being so closely guarded by his terrier.

  Patch growled, his hackles rising, ears pricked. Every fibre of his being was warning Catriona to leave him alone – to stay away and leave his master in peace.

  ‘Come away, darling,’ muttered Velda. ‘This is no place for you.’

  ‘But we can’t leave Patch here,’ she prot
ested.

  ‘He’ll come out when he’s hungry,’ muttered Velda. She led Catriona outside and dropped the canvas flap over the opening. ‘I want you to make the tea while I prepare Max. Your father has gone into Kingaroy to find a priest, and I need you to do as I say.’

  Catriona wanted to ask what ‘preparing Max’ entailed, but the look on her mother’s face was enough to silence her. The tears were blinding as she went in search of more dry wood for the camp-fire, and once she had coaxed the flames into a blaze, she perched on a fallen log and stared sadly into them.

  Kane finally managed to grab hold of Patch’s scruff and haul him out of the tent. He found a length of rope and firmly attached it to his collar at one end, and tied it around the bole of a tree at the other. Patch, defeated and confused, lay with his nose on his paws, and whimpered. Yet he still seemed to prefer to grieve alone, for when anyone approached him he barred his teeth and snarled.

  The priest arrived just as the sun was dipping behind the trees. He was a tall, thin man with a weather-beaten face and a kind smile. His horse was lathered in sweat from the swift ride out from Kingaroy, and Catriona led it to the little stream so it could have a drink whilst the priest went into the tent.

  Patch sprung to his feet and strained against his tether as Kane and Da carried the still bundle to the deep hole they’d dug earlier. Velda took pity on him, and with a tight fist around the makeshift leash, she had to fight to keep control as he pulled and strained to reach his master.

  Catriona stood beside her mother as Max was carefully lowered into the ground. He was wearing his stage costume, she noticed, and one of his old blankets had been wrapped around him as if to shield him from the cold of that dark red earth which would soon cover him. She shivered as the priest conducted the short service, and blinked away the tears as the earth slowly filled that great, deep hole and took Max away from them.