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Authors: Vivienne Dockerty

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BOOK: A Distant Dream
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He looked forward to meeting Bertie's wife, ensconced as she was in their cottage in the grounds, having given birth to a little girl a few weeks before. It would be a surprise for him, Aubretia had said, though Clarence couldn't see why.

Yes, I could get used to this,
he thought, as he surveyed the land before him whilst standing on the back porch of the dwelling. The leafy almond groves, the produce of a fertile land; the tree shaded paddock with two fine horses grazing; the brick built outbuildings which he'd been told housed the dairy and almond storage and thankfully, there was no sign of the shelter that had been there before. The original dwelling had been given an extension and the narrow creek still ran through the property, bringing with it a natural water supply.

It could all be his if he played his cards right and married the comely Aubretia. Working for Sir Rodney might have brought him a steady income, respect from his lordship's many tenants and employees and given him a comfortable lifestyle, but he would give it all up for his love who resided in this pleasant corner of the world.

*

Hannah, oh God, it was Hannah! What was she doing here? He had thought that was the last he would see of her when he had taken her to the orphan depot all those years ago.
Clarence felt alarm as he glanced towards the nursing mother, sitting as she was on an old horsehair sofa in the front room of the workman's cottage with her baby wrapped in a white, lacy, shawl lying contentedly on her knee.

Hannah looked visibly shaken as she recognised her visitor. Her face went white and her hands began to tremble and she clutched her baby to her in case it should fall.
Mr. Filbey. She had thought he had gone back to Ireland, taking his crabby tongued wife along with him. What was he doing back here in Willunga?

“Hannah, we've brought Mr. Filbey. Of course you will remember him from when he employed you as a nursemaid.” Aubretia sounded as if she was giving her daughter-in-law a treat in bringing the man into the cottage and Bertie looked gleeful, thinking that he was reuniting a former employer and his wife.

So she had told them half a story, she had been the nursemaid and it looked as if that was all she had told them too.
Clarence let out a sigh.

“We wondered what had become of you, Hannah. I came back to the depot later to let you know that we had decided to stay in Adelaide, but they said you'd moved on. Mrs. Filbey eventually managed to come to terms with the loss of little Molly and I got a good job with Sir Rodney.”

Hannah nodded politely, wondering where the Filbey woman was and thinking that the man was lying; he had never come back to get her from the depot.

“Do sit down Mr. Filbey” Aubretia insisted, pulling out an upholstered chair from underneath a cloth covered table. “Bertie has a few chores to do and I need to go back to the house to get a jug of milk for Hannah. I'm sure you two have got a lot to talk about. I'll bring some of my baking and a pot of tea.”

“No, don't go to any trouble on my behalf, dear lady.” Clarence fumbled around in his head for an excuse to depart the homestead. Being left with Hannah was the last thing he wanted to do, unless of course he could use the time to his advantage. “I must away to Willunga; I have some unfinished business at the show.”

“But that is where we will all be going later, Mr. Filbey” Aubretia replied gaily. “Ralphie has exhibited some of our plump and delicious almonds there. Judging doesn't start until three, so you could spend a little time with Hannah before we go.”

She didn't wait to listen for a negative answer, thinking she was doing them both a favour by leaving them alone to reminisce and bustled off, whilst Bertie ambled across the yard to check on one of his sows, who was about to give birth.

“So, Hannah. I'm sure yer just as surprised to see me again as I am to see you and I see yer've fell on your feet having managed to get yerself wed to a member of the Aldridge family.”

His silken tones had gone and to Hannah's ears his words sounded menacing but as it was
he
who had committed the crime of burying Molly, why should he want to frighten her?

“I
am
surprised, Mr. Filbey” she admitted, her trembling having stopped, as the minutes passed by and she took stock of the situation. “When you took me to the orphan depot I thought that was the last I would see of you and Mrs. Filbey. I imagined that you had both returned to Ireland to cover up your wife's crime.”

“Hardly a crime, Hannah, more of an accident – one of which you were witness to and thus an accomplice in any court of law.” He sat back in his chair and watched as the colour drained from her thin features.

“But I…”

“Yes, Hannah, yer
were
an accomplice. You saw what happened and yer didn't raise the alarm, yer didn't go fer help from Mrs. Aldridge and yer kept quiet about it when we went to live in the city.”

“But I was a young girl and I relied on you for everything. I was a stranger in a foreign land and I was frightened – frightened of authority and especially of Mrs. Filbey and what she could do.” Her face took on an agitated look and she clutched her baby even closer.

“Hannah, Hannah.” Clarence's voice took on a soothing tone. “Let's not peer into the past, lookin' for blame when nothing can put right from what has happened. My Bessie is dead now, taken her secret to the grave, Molly is in a better place and you and I have surely achieved everythin' we could have wished fer. You now belong to a loving family, with a child of your own to give succour to and I am the right hand man of Sir Rodney, well thought of and respected by everyone. It could all disappear like snowflakes on a sunny day if you went to the authorities, but then who would believe a
scut
of a girl like you?”

He waited for his words to sink in and watched whilst her mind seemed to be at war with herself. He smiled as he heard Aubretia calling to her son across the way.

“Yer wouldn't want to lose all this, Hannah, the love of yer husband and mother-in-law, not to mention that they'd take your baby away.”

He stopped his persuading as Hannah nodded bleakly, then Aubretia made her way across the room, depositing the jug and holding her arms out for a hold of her little grandchild. It was a pleasant scene and Clarence knew that he had won.

*

The weeks went by and Clarence was a frequent visitor. It seemed that Sir Rodney's business interests stretched far and wide. Not that Clarence discussed the reasons for his calls upon the owners of the now flourishing orchards and vineyards that had sprung up around the McLaren Vale and the surrounding areas, but he always seemed to time his visit to coincide with Aubretia serving afternoon tea. He became a kindly “uncle” to her sons, though of Hannah he saw little, as she always seemed very busy at that time of the day.

One afternoon, just as Hannah was bringing in some washing from the yard as there was a threat of a shower in the air, he came hurrying through the almond trees with his red face wearing a scowl, either though through exertion or anger, Hannah couldn't tell.

“It'll be your fault, yer little schemer,” he hissed, as he stood so close she could smell the stink of his breath. His Irish way of speaking that he had tried hard to get rid of in the past, was coming to the fore in his haste to get out his words. “She's told me she doesn't want a suitor, told me she doesn't want a marriage agin, suggests that I don't visit the homestead if that was what I was wantin' from ‘er in the long run.”

“How can that be my fault? I've never so much as mentioned to Aubretia about what happened on that awful day. You give me enough warnin' of what would ‘appen if I did.”

Hannah stood her ground. She couldn't understand why it was her fault that her mother-in-law had asked Mr. Filbey not to call at the farm again. “She has always vowed to never love another man, at least that is what Bertie has always said.” It seemed that her stance took the sting from his anger. He had guessed as much, but needed to put the blame on someone else.

“Perhaps it's as well that yer don't come visitin', Mr. Filbey, then we can put the past behind us. I were doin' fine until yer came back into our lives again.” Hannah turned to go, using the excuse that her baby wanted feeding, but not before she noted the slump in his shoulders and the sadness in his eyes.
The girl was right. He had seen the flash of desolation pass over the face of his beloved, before she had told him gently that perhaps it was time for him to go. He'd be wasting his time if he was after a courtship. Her heart had died along with William Aldridge, a fine man, the love of her life and no other man would ever take his place.

Chapter Fourteen

Under the watchful eye of Grandma Aldridge, four year old Beth was discovering the delights and pitfalls of playing in the yard behind the homestead. Warnings, her grandma's gentle threats of what would happen if she chose to ignore her, rang through her ears as she picked a bunch of yellow soursobs for her darling mother. Don't go near the fast flowing creek that had swollen because of the last few days of heavy rain; don't put her hand into the pig pen where the sow was farrowing and don't go near the ferocious dog who was tied up on a rope in the yard. Flowers grew in profusion amongst the grassy undergrowth on the banks of the creek.

Hannah, now in her eighth month of pregnancy with her third child, was spending some time with her feet up whilst Aubretia in her element now that she was the grandmother of the couple's two children, took her grandson Matthew, inside the house to change his smelly cloths.

Life at
Aldridge Farm
had changed little since Clarence had made his departure and Hannah, now able to relax once more, was at her happiest producing babies, secure in the knowledge that she would have the love of her growing family for the rest of her days. She felt needed by her offspring and was the contented wife of Bertie, who was feeling fortunate that when all around him families were falling victim to poor harvests from overworked land, crop diseases, storms and terrible droughts in the summer, he and Ralphie, now married to a Willunga girl whom he had met at a public lecture, had heeded the call for diversification by the local agricultural associations, buying more land to expand their marketing to the residents of the area and beyond.

Hectares of maize, root crops and another market garden had been added to their acres of almond groves and with the improvement of the district's roads, the busy jetty at Port Willunga, the construction of many bridges and the transport of their goods to the city, townships and surrounding country villages, distribution of their produce was a lot easier than it had been before. There was a growth in population now in and around the settlements, all who were in need of fresh supplies of vegetables, butter, eggs and cheese.

William, Aubretia's youngest, now grown up and the brains of the Aldridge brothers, spent his life now at the city's university, where he was studying to become an agricultural engineer. He was also the instigator of starting the Aldridge family Bible. It was fitting, he said, to have a record of births, marriages and deaths of each family member, for the benefit of the generations to come.

*

This particular day was a cool one, the start of a summer which hadn't yet got into its stride. Beth was nonplussed when a little girl with long, brown hair, wearing a shabby, white dress and old black boots, appeared at her side and began to pick some of the yellow flowers too. It was unusual, to say the least, to see another little girl at the homestead, as Beth only got to see her friends when she went to Sunday school.

“Hello, where have you come from?” The little girl smiled sadly and shrugged her shoulders at the question and Beth noticed she had a mark on her brow. “That looks bad. I fell over last week and bruised my knees. See? Grandma said I shouldn't have been running. Did you do that when
you
were running too?” The little girl nodded and handed her bunch of flowers over, then turned away and began to walk towards the farmhouse. “Don't go,” Beth called. “Stay a little longer and I'll ask Grandma if we can have a slice of her cake. It's an almond cake.” But the child seemed to have a problem with her hearing and carried on ahead.

To say that Hannah was astonished after her small daughter related the conversation she'd had with the strange girl who had appeared in the yard a little earlier, would be an understatement. At first her thoughts were ones of disbelief and she assumed that the child must have belonged to a family of itinerant workers who had been hired to help the brothers bring part of their harvest in. Then she remembered that Bertie had said he had paid them off and they were making their way to Aldinga, where a farmer needed help with his harvest of an early cereal crop.

It was when Beth mentioned the mark on the little girl's head and the fact that she hadn't spoken, that Hannah started having her suspicions and was dumbfounded to feel quite certain that it was Molly's spirit that her daughter had seen. It made sense. Beth had said that the girl had appeared from nowhere, hadn't spoken and was wearing a white dress and little, black boots which was exactly what Molly had been wearing on the day of her death. To say all this to her daughter could have been too alarming for the four year old dote, so instead she hugged her, thanked her for the flowers and hoped that Molly would rest in peace.

It was on her deathbed many years later, when still haunted by the visions of her dying friend, who would appear in her dreams from time to time, Hannah confessed to her youngest son, Bradley, a preacher by then who had changed his allegiance from Roman Catholic to the Wesleyan Church, of the part she had played in Molly's secret burial in the Aldridge yard. She asked him to write down her words so that Molly Mayo's memory could be kept alive in years to come.

It was a long time before Molly put in an appearance at the Aldridges again. Perhaps her spirit was always there watching, looking on at the successive generations as they played on the banks of the narrow creek.

*

The land around the homestead had flourished with careful husbandry. The Aldridge family, now using the modern agricultural machinery on their extensive hectares, began to reap the rewards of their endeavours, when many farmers had walked away from the uncertain climate, leaving buildings deserted and land in disuse.

It was one evening, when that particular winter had seen hail stones the size of pebbles raining down upon the poor cattle that grazed in the fields nearby, that the family of Matthew Aldridge, Hannah's eldest son who had inherited the homestead in 1893 after Bertie had passed on, was sitting in the warmth of the parlour, listening, along with Matthew's five other children, to Dorcas, his eldest, who was entertaining them with a rousing rendition of
Love Divine, All Loves Excelling,
a well known hymn by Charles Wesley and a favourite of the time.

Matthew's wife, Ellen, had just finished accompanying her daughter on the ebony piano amidst the scene of domestic contentment, when the sound of a child screaming could be heard outside. Matthew rushed to the window in alarm and from it, saw that one of the barns which contained a large haystack, had set alight, and a streak of something white was fleeing across the yard. Not thinking about his own safety, his only purpose being to save the child who had alerted the family with its yells, he dashed through the back door of the dwelling, to find that two of his workers from the farm cottages who had also heard the noise, were already armed with a couple of buckets and were filling them with water from the well.

There was no sighting of a distressed child, so Matthew rushed into the barn, hoping against hope he could save the little mite if was trapped inside. But the heat drove him back and the family watched with sorrowful eyes at its destruction, as well as a nearby pigpen which had been reduced to cinders. Luckily someone had rescued the pigs, but there was still the fear of finding the ashes of a body inside the barn after the fire had begun to die.

Heads were counted then scratched with disbelief when it appeared that all members and workers of the Aldridge Farm were present, including the yard cats that had stood around with arched backs as they listened to the barking of the ferocious dog.

An old man, a grandfather who lived with his family in one of the cottages, said he had seen this kind of thing happen many times. If the hay had been damp, then it might have sweated in the middle of the stack and that could cause a problem and set the fodder alight. It could have been that someone in the village had a grievance, perhaps they saw that the Aldridges' were doing so well in a time when many people were finding it hard to survive. That suggestion was from a worker, who didn't dare say that it could be an act of revenge, as Matthew was mean with his money and would question each bill for the goods or repairs to the machinery for the farm.

So the fate of the child was forgotten as it could have been a frightened bird fleeing across the yard to the undergrowth. The barn and its contents lay in a heap of smouldering ash and Matthew began to reckon up the cost. As to who it was who may have started the fire deliberately, his finger of blame pointed to Pieter Olk, an unsuitable young clodhopper of Dutch descent, who lived with his widowed mother on a small landholding. The ne'er-do-well had set his sights on Dorcas, his eldest and they'd been seen in an embrace at a Sunday school picnic by a villager whose duty it was to inform the farmer of what she had seen.

Of course the girl had been punished, as Matthew had high hopes of Dorcas marrying into the Woodleigh family, who were making their money by exporting their wool to a Manchester mill. A couple of straps across his daughter's backside had caused her to reflect on her sins, as Matthew was a great believer in the adage of “spare the rod and spoil the child.”

It was a source of puzzlement too when Mrs. Olk reported the loss of her only son to the troopers. It was assumed that he had joined the exodus of labour to the gold diggings and hadn't wanted to upset her with his plan.

*

In 1913, work began on the railway that would give a regular service to the city for passengers and transport freight from the area. It looked as if the wealth of the Aldridge family would know no bounds. There were two large houses now built on the land that looked across to the Aldinga Road. A warehouse, stockyards, barns and many outbuildings stood behind, along with a row of farm workers cottages, for the benefit of the men who were employed there.

The Aldridges had been lucky that in every generation since William and Aubretia had first settled at the place they had called “Meant to Be”, there had been at least one male who the homestead could be passed on to. Most of them had inherited their work ethic from their ancestors. Some had been mean, some had been open handed, but all had, had the fortunes of the “Aldridge Farm” gathered closely to their hearts.

In this second decade of the twentieth century, there were four boys and three female siblings, the offspring of John and Hilda, Matthew and Ellen's elder son. One of John's brothers had died from brucellosis and two had died at the Relief of Mafeking in 1900. They hadn't needed to get involved in the Boer War in Africa, but had felt they had wanted to serve their queen and country and find excitement in their otherwise boring lives.

John's sons were all too young to get involved in this war when it was declared in Europe in 1914. Although sympathetic to the families who were having to say goodbye to a departing loved one, the Aldridges were happy to get involved with any fundraising for the good of the valiant men. They were eagerly awaiting the official opening of Willunga station, which would see their products being marketed far and wide. Already using the transportation of their goods by road and shipping, John had agents waiting in readiness, to go out near and far and clinch more deals.

But that was until the drought of that summer, which put paid to some of the crop yields. It was very expensive to buy in fresh water and the brook and the creeks on the property had all run dry. John made the best of a bad business by investing in a new type of irrigation that involved lots of tubes being laid on top of the ground. It was thought that when the rains came again that winter, the tanks would be full to their capacity and the tubes would mean a more controlled watering of the land.

When the railway was officially opened in January of 1915, there was much ado made of the occasion. There were luncheons and speeches made by the great and the good and a sense of excitement felt by young and old alike as they considered their new found mobility. The city beckoned, further education could be gained now at the universities, there was a chance for better wages and more of a social life than just dances at the village hall or having a drink at the many inns that had sprung up in the area. Now the locals could visit their city, which many hadn't been to before. The Aldridges could send their wares to Adelaide and they would arrive in a couple of hours.

One afternoon, John was driving to the homestead in his truck, as he came back from a luncheon that had been given in honour of the governor, who had travelled to Willunga by train. He had imbibed a few glasses of a rather delicious, fullbodied red wine, courtesy of a McLaren Vale winery that had supplied the bottles and he was feeling rather full after a satisfying five course meal.

If he was swerving a little as he ambled along in his newly purchased Ford, it didn't much matter, as the road was bare except for a flock of seagulls that were circling over something in the distance. His mind was full of the praise that the committee he belonged to had been given for their unstinting supply of comforts to the troops.

As John entered the entrance to the homestead, his foot fell onto the accelerator and not the brake. Through his windscreen he glimpsed two figures; one was his daughter, Edith and the other a little girl he didn't know. The little girl, dressed in a white dress with dark, brown hair growing onto her shoulders, seemed in his view to rise above the bonnet of the truck in very slow motion, only to fall back down across it again. Pulling the handbrake on, he threw himself from behind the wheel, as the vehicle lurched to a halt, the tyres making a terrible screeching noise as it did so. His body shaking and eyes filled with tears from his distress, he went to help the injured girl, only to find his daughter shaking like a leaf and being comforted in the arms of his wife, Hilda. Of the girl that he had thought he had run over, there was no sign.

After being lectured upon the evils of drink and being told that he should be more careful when coming through the entrance into the busy yard, in case there might be livestock or children too, he declared to his very angry wife that he would sign the pledge and never take a drink again.

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