Matriarch

Chapter 1-5

During his long convalescence, he had taken on an excellent station cook. Dorothy Hobbs was a widow, and she took me under her wing and we became lifelong friends. I liked to help out in the kitchen, and after a while, Dorothy began to teach me. Each day we turned out an amazing variety of breads and pastries. There was no refrigeration in those days, and one of her biggest improvements was to have them acquire a small herd of dairy cattle, and under her guidance, they planted out a vegetable garden and build a decent chook run. Even those few improvements made an enormous difference to our diet.

Fritz enjoyed talking about his former life, and would encourage my questions. I suppose I did pander to him, by opening an avenue that he could explore, such as had he ever been presented to the King and Queen. Of course he had, and more stories would flow. Or we might talk about his mother, who was an endless source of fascination. After a while, I felt as though I knew her, as Fritz would tell of grand functions, perhaps a garden party at Windsor, who was there, what was said, and what they wore, and he would recreate the whole thing for me. Looking back, I think that he might have liked to have been an actor, or perhaps a writer, for Fritz enjoyed parodying his mother’s polite society. He told me that she said that one could always tell a person’s station by the way they drank their tea. Fritz would imitate their Vicar taking his tea, and act out the ridiculous stilted conversation, which, as he described it, was the art of talking at length about nothing of any consequence. He could be extremely funny.

As ridiculous as this may now seem, I began to take an interest in all this because for some time, I had wanted to give him a tea party. I suppose it was about trying to recreate something of what I imagined his life must have been. So, one Sunday afternoon, after my riding lesson, I asked if I could lay out all his tea things and serve a tea. I must confess that Dorothy and I had planned the whole thing, and I produced a magnificent sponge filled with jam and cream, together with scones still warm from the oven. Then with great ceremony, I poured from the magnificent silver teapot I had discovered among the salvers, servers, and cake stands, all of which were still in their original packing.

Of course Fritz rose to the occasion. ‘If my dear mater could see this, she would be delighted.’ And just to please me, as he was fond of recalling, he ate nearly all the cake and scones on his own. His obvious delight thrilled me, although he would never have dreamed of being any other way. Fritz was always the perfect gentleman, and so in between servings of tea and cake, he kept up a delightful flow of stories. That was an occasion we remembered with great fondness.

After his pelvis mended, he returned to disappearing for weeks at a time, mustering or working the cattle out on the camps. It was about a year or so later that I became aware of the effect the long spell of dry weather had been having on the station, and that Fritz was worried by it. This was also a period in my life when I realized how much I longed to be with him, although, strange to say now, but I don’t know that I was even aware of why that might be.

In the following year the wet season failed to arrive, and the cattle market collapsed. There was day after day when the warm dry wind blew across the top-end, lifting clouds of dust to billow in the air, as fire, and vast mobs of starving kangaroos, took what little was left of the pastures. The gradual decline in the fortunes of Arrawatta was entirely beyond Fritz’s control. They spent months shepherding the cattle from one meagre patch of feed to another, while Albert scouted about endeavouring to find a market, and when he would find a buyer, the cattle would sell very badly. The water holes dried up, and the land became a graveyard for the cattle; their bones and parched hides remained as the only sign of their existence.

Then a further blow fell, the Pastoral House, which had previously been so keen to have his business, informed Fritzhugh they had withdrawn his credit. It was a terrible thing to do, and a complete about-face. They said it was because the guarantee provided by his father’s estate had not been honoured. Fritz was shattered; it seemed incomprehensible that his mother or the estate’s solicitors had not forewarned him. That year was the first time Arrawatta had not been able to meet its debts.

My poor Fritz was weighed down with concern. We had discussed his bouts of drinking quite openly, and when I was around, he kept it well under control. He and Albert enjoyed a port or two after dinner, and if Percy arrived with a load, they would certainly celebrate the occasion. The effect of alcohol upon Fritz came to a head when Percy unexpectedly arrived. I think he sensed that he might carry bad news, for he would have witnessed the awful effect the drought was having on homesteads along his run. On this trip, he arrived with a large bundle of mail for his friend.

The greetings were no less enthusiastic: ‘wonderful to see you Percival, we will have a lot to talk about over dinner.’

The mailman shrugged shyly. ‘Same here mate, but the dry is worsening, and many have ceased ordering from town. And let’s hope your mail has brought you some good news.’

I watched as, Fritz opened a letter from his mother; her salutation would have signalled that he was in trouble:

‘My Dear Fritzhugh,

I hope this letter finds my dear boy in good health. I worry about all the many things that I, as your loving mother, am unable to provide for you from such a distance. However, through a friend of Bunty’s at the Colonial Office, I am recommended to furnish you with a felt spine pad, which you should wear against the damaging effect of the sun. They are very popular in India, and I have ordered that some be sent to you direct from London. They shall arrive under separate cover. Please do not neglect to wear yours.

We are in the middle of a most exhilarating hunting season with masses of guests tripping up from London for the weekend. Your cousins Wallace and Constance are here. She is a ravishing beauty with red hair, so like her mother, and I feel sure she shall have plenty of beaus this season. Wallace cuts a very dashing figure and has taken to driving a motor. Tomorrow I ride Chancellor; he is wonderful at eleven years and gives me great confidence that I can stay the course.’

Fritz raced through the pages of her copperplate hand in a search of the nub of her letter. He was not disappointed, for her words stung him deeply. Fritz felt more put down than he could hide and shook his head in disgust. He put her letter down and opened those to which she had referred; there was one from his stepfather and another about the estate from Messrs Craddock, Farnshure, and Branskin, which he read.

‘My dear Lord Brancliff,

I write as the Executor named in your late father’s will, and it is now my duty to report to you upon the winding up of his estate.

Probate was granted, as you are aware, on the sixth of March 1904, and it was only of recent date that we were confident that we had received the last of the claims, and that every asset of the estate had been identified and recovered. This, you will recall was reported to you on the fifteenth of February 1906. I must explain that the claims amounted to almost double the amount that we had earlier assessed. I assure you that all were verified to ensure they were authorized by your father. He was a man of honour, and would have expected me to meet them. Unfortunately, after the disposal of the main assets, the estate was left with a debit balance of a little over three thousand pounds. However, I am able to report that this sum has been generously lent to the estate by your stepfather, thus saving your mother the embarrassment of having to juggle her affairs.

I now come to the Australian assets, namely the cattle-raising venture known as Arrawatta Station. This was to be a long-term investment, and was part of the assets of the British and Australian Pastoral Company, which failed in 1895. The holding was purchased from the mortgagee using favourable terms of finance, and secured by your father’s personal guarantee. The estate was not able to honour the personal guarantee, and again, your stepfather has come forward and done so. Accordingly, the mortgagee has transferred the property to his name. I am therefore instructed to advise that you may carry on at Arrawatta and that he has appointed The Commercial and Australian Pastoral Company to oversee its operation as a viable investment.

It has been an honour to serve your father over so many years, and to be his legal adviser and friend. I would be singularly honoured, if you would be good enough to communicate with me when you are next in London and be my guest at luncheon.

I remain your obedient servant.

Bartholomew Craven.’

Percy had obviously seen similar distress and was very concerned for his friend. Fritz never commented, but his mother’s unveiled comments had hurt. They were completely out of place, considering the Herculean efforts that he, Albert, and their stockman had put in. That she should attribute their financial difficulty to her son’s poor stewardship was unfair and quite ridiculous. She never stopped there, for what she had really wanted to convey was toward the end of her letter, and it seemed to Fritz that she wished to destroy him.

‘I raise a matter that concerns me greatly; I have received word that you are cohabiting with a native woman. Your dear father would be as deeply shocked and as disapproving as I am. Fritzhugh, I beg you to put an end to this relationship forthwith.’ I could feel his distress, although the contents of her letter were never revealed to me until much later. The bush telegraph had done its work, who knows how; perhaps it was the orders for clothes and other things for me, or someone’s innocent remark to a neighbour.

But at that moment the drinking began in earnest.

‘Percy, I have been done, and I still have to read a letter from my stepfather, but not without a drink, would you join me? He is the most abominable man you could ever meet.’

The letter was embossed with the seal of the Earl of Fairley. The expected derogatory comments about his dear pater followed, and with an undisguised oath, he suddenly tore it to pieces, and topped up their glasses. I had rarely seen our people drink; they were too isolated, and unless they got it from passing itinerant workers, liquor was never a problem. But never could I have imagined Fritz drinking himself into a stupor. But he did, and by mid-morning of the following day, Percy had been loaded on to the camel train, still so drunk he was in grave danger of falling off. He had left his great friend in a worse state, and Albert, who had come in late, was not much better. Fortunately, Dorothy and I thought to hide the bottles, and when I could bear it no longer, I saddled our horses, and with Fritz swaying precariously in the saddle, led him out into the bush. He slept most of that day in the sand, spluttering and mumbling incoherently to himself, until he eventually woke up.