Araluen Read Online Free PDF Page B

trip later in the week.’
    ‘Of course. Come on, hop down and have a cup of tea while the boys unload the trunk.’ Catherine signalled to one of the farm hands who was sweeping out the stables.
    ‘No, thank you.’ Mary kept a firm hold on the reins.
    ‘For heaven's sake, Mary. We can't unload it ourselves. Well, I certainly don't intend to. What's more, your horse looks as if he could do with a drink.’
    After a moment's hesitation, Mary agreed. ‘Very well,’ she said, but she ignored the helping hand Catherine extended.
    ‘You can't go on like this, you know that, don't you?’ Catherine spoke brusquely and she didn't look at her sister as she busied herself stoking the fire in the wood-stove. ‘You've closed yourself off for a fortnight now and everyone's too unnerved to talk to you.’
    Mary sat staring into the open grate,mesmerised by the sparks produced by Catherine's vigorous stirring.
    ‘Well, I'm not letting you out of this kitchen until you talk to me.’ Catherine slammed the grid closed and Mary was startled. ‘Did you hear me?’ She knew she was being brutal but maybe bullying Mary was the only way to get a response.
    ‘Talk to me!’ she demanded. ‘Cry, for God's sake! Get angry! Why did he have to die? Tell me how much you loved him!’ As Catherine pressed on relentlessly, she saw Mary's cheeks start to flush. ‘Please, Mary. Talk to me!’
    Mary didn't move. She gazed steadfastly out the window but there was the glistening of tears in her eyes and Catherine knew she was fighting the urge to cry.
    ‘Oh, Mary. Dear little Mary.’ She gathered her sister in her arms. ‘Let go, my darling, let go.’
    Mary resisted only for a moment, then the floodgates opened. She sobbed until her eyes were swollen, her nose ran and her chest ached and Catherine held her all the while.
    When the outburst was over, Catherine cleaned her face with a fresh tea towel and Mary blew her nose as she was told like an obliging child.
    Then, as Catherine rose to fill the teapot from the now boiling kettle, Mary leaned back, exhausted, and started speaking, more to herself than to her sister.
    ‘Father never knew that Harry didn't want his children to bear the name of Ross. He didn't know that it was I who insisted upon it and that Harry agreed simply to please me.’ Catherine looked at her, surprised.
    ‘Yes,’ she continued, ‘just for me, Harry did that — and it cost his pride, I can tell you. He received a medal in the Boer War, you know, and he was proud of his record and rank and name. Captain Harold Johnston of the Australian Light Horse Contingent. And just for me he allowed his children to become Ross-Johnstons. It was no mean thing, Catherine.
    ‘But then, Harry would do anything I asked him,’ Mary continued. ‘Anything except stay home from the war. From that filthy, shocking war.’
    Her eyes filled with tears and she started to cry, softly this time. ‘My Harry, my beautiful Harry, I begged him not to go, I begged him to stay home with me. But he said, “My country needs me, this is what I'm trained for.”’ She rocked back and forth in her chair. ‘I begged him. I begged him and I begged him and it was the only time he ever denied me.’
    Catherine put the pot on the table before them and sat quietly waiting for the tea to draw. She didn't dare say a word. Gradually, the sobs once more subsided and Mary, her energy expended, started to talk quietly.
    ‘Father never really liked me, you know. I think perhaps he blamed me for Mother's ill health, my birth being such a difficult one.’ She shrugged. ‘Whatever the reasons, he considered me weak and uninteresting, I'm aware of that. You were the one he admired, Catherine, you were the strong one and he loved you for it.’ Mary smiled, without animosity. ‘It doesn't matter now. Anyway, Mother's love was enough for me.’
    ‘Yes.’ Catherine finally spoke. ‘I was always jealous of Mother's love for you.’
    ‘Were you?’ Mary looked